Europe, Small Navies and Maritime Security: Balancing Traditional Roles and Emergent Threats in the 21st Century 9780367252229, 0367252228

Table of contents :
1. Introduction: Europe, Small Navies and Maritime Security Robert McCabe, Deborah Sanders and Ian SpellerPart I: Theorising small navies and maritime security2. Small navies in the current strategic context Geoffrey Till 3. Seapower and small navies: a post-modern outlook Basil Germond4. Special effects: force multipliers and small navies Andrew Mallia and Chris Xuereb5. From hand-me-down navies to niche players? Comparing the navies of (very) small European states Brendan Flynn6. Small navies and naval warfare in the Baltic Sea region Niklas GranholmPart II: Small navies within the European context7. European small(er) navies: failures and success in doing more with less Jeremy Stoehs8. The Royal Netherlands Navy after the Cold War: working with a new doctrine in a new security environment Anselm van der Peet9. Maritime security strategies for very small states: the case of the Baltic states William Combes10. Bulwark and balancing act: the strategic role of the Royal Norwegian Navy Tor Ivar Strommen11. The Royal Danish Navy: how small states use naval strategy Johannes Riber 12. Rebuilding the Ukrainian Navy: maritime security in a highly contested environment Deborah Sanders13. A comparative analysis of policy and practice within three small navies: Croatia, Ireland and Malta Ciaran LoweConclusion Robert McCabe, Deborah Sanders and Ian Speller

Citation preview

Europe, Small Navies and Maritime Security

This book seeks to identify and address gaps in our understanding of maritime security and the role of small navies in Europe. The majority of Europe’s navies are small, yet they are often called upon to address a complex array of traditional and non-­traditional threats. This book examines the role of small navies within the European security architecture, by discussing areas of commonality and difference between navies, and arguing that it is not possible to fully understand either maritime strategy or European security without taking into account the actions of small navies. It contains a number of case studies that provide an opportunity to explore how different European states view the current security environment and how naval policy has undergone significant changes within the lifetime of the existing naval assets. In addition, the book examines how maritime security and naval development in Europe might evolve, given that economic forecasts will likely limit the potential procurement of ‘larger’ naval assets in the future, which means that European states will increasingly have to do more with less in the maritime domain. This book will be of much interest to students of maritime strategy, naval power, strategic studies, European politics and international relations in general. Robert McCabe is Assistant Professor and Course Director for the MA in Maritime Security at the Centre for Trust, Peace and Social Relations at Coventry University, UK. Deborah Sanders is a Reader in Defence and Security Studies at the Defence Studies Department, King’s College London, UK. Ian Speller is Associate Professor and Director of the Centre for Military History and Strategic Studies at the National University of Ireland, Maynooth.

Corbett Centre for Maritime Policy Studies Series The Corbett Centre for Maritime Policy Studies Series is the publishing platform of the Corbett Centre. Drawing on the expertise and wider networks of the Defence Studies Department of King’s College London, and based at the Joint Services Command and Staff College in the UK Defence Academy, the Corbett Centre is already a leading centre for academic expertise and education in maritime and naval studies. It enjoys close links with several other institutions, both academic and governmental, that have an interest in maritime matters, including the Developments, Concepts and Doctrine Centre (DCDC), the Naval Staff of the Ministry of Defence and the Naval Historical Branch. The centre and its publishing output aims to promote the understanding and analysis of maritime history and policy and to provide a forum for the interaction of academics, policy-­makers and practitioners. Books published under the aegis of the Corbett Centre series reflect these aims and provide an opportunity to stimulate research and debate into a broad range of maritime related themes. The core subject matter for the series is maritime strategy and policy, conceived broadly to include theory, history and practice, military and civil, historical and contemporary, British and international aspects. As a result, this series offers a unique opportunity to examine key issues such as maritime security, the future of naval power and the commercial uses of the sea, from an exceptionally broad chronological, geographical and thematic range. Truly interdisciplinary in its approach, the series welcomes books from across the humanities, social sciences and professional worlds, providing an unrivalled opportunity for authors and readers to enhance the national and international visibility of maritime affairs, and provide a forum for policy debate and analysis. Series Editors: Greg Kennedy, Tim Benbow and Jon Robb-­ Webb, Defence Studies Department, Joint Services Command and Staff College, UK Early Naval Air Power British and German Approaches Dennis Haslop Naval Diplomacy in the 21st Century A Model for the Post-­Cold War Global Order Kevin Rowlands Europe, Small Navies and Maritime Security Balancing Traditional Roles and Emergent Threats in the 21st Century Edited by Robert McCabe, Deborah Sanders and Ian Speller For more information about this series, please visit: www.routledge.com/ Corbett-­Centre-for-­Maritime-Policy-­Studies-Series/book-­series/CCMPSS

Europe, Small Navies and Maritime Security

Balancing Traditional Roles and Emergent Threats in the 21st Century Edited by Robert McCabe, Deborah Sanders and Ian Speller

First published 2020 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2020 selection and editorial matter, Robert McCabe, Deborah Sanders & Ian Speller; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Robert McCabe, Deborah Sanders & Ian Speller to be identified as the authors of the editorial matter, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-­in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-­in-Publication Data A catalog record has been requested for this book ISBN: 978-0-367-25222-9 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-429-28663-6 (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by Wearset Ltd, Boldon, Tyne and Wear

Contents

List of illustrationsvii Notes on contributorsviii Prefacexii List of abbreviationsxiii   1 Introduction: Europe, small navies and maritime security1 R obert  M c C abe , D eborah  S anders and I an  S peller

Part I

Theorising small navies and maritime security13   2 Small navies in the current strategic context15 G eoffrey  T ill

  3 Seapower and small navies: a post-­modern outlook26 B asil G ermond

  4 Special effects: force multipliers and small navies36 A ndrew M allia and C hris X uereb

  5 From hand-­me-down navies to niche players? Comparing the navies of (very) small European states51 B rendan  F lynn

  6 Small navies and naval warfare in the Baltic Sea region71 N iklas G ranholm

vi  Contents Part II

Small navies within the European context89   7 European small(er) navies: failure and success in doing more with less91 J eremy  S t ö hs

  8 The Royal Netherlands Navy after the Cold War: working with a new doctrine in a new security environment104 A nselm van der  P eet

  9 Maritime security strategies for very small states: the case of the Baltic states117 W illiam C ombes

10 Bulwark and balancing act: the strategic role of the Royal Norwegian Navy133 T or I var S tr ø mmen

11 The Royal Danish Navy: how small states use naval strategy152 J ohannes  R iber

12 Rebuilding the Ukrainian Navy: maritime security in a highly contested environment168 D eborah S anders

13 A comparative analysis of policy and practice within three small navies: Croatia, Ireland and Malta185 C I A R Á N   L owe

14 Conclusion199 R obert  M c C abe , D eborah  S anders A N D I an  S peller

Select bibliography202 Index227

Illustrations

Figures 3.1 Triangle of naval missions 26 5.1 Military expenditure per capita for Cyprus, Iceland, Ireland, Latvia and Slovenia, contrasted with France, 1996–2016 (in 2017 US$) 53 5.2 Military expenditure, in constant (2015) US$m, for Cyprus, Iceland, Ireland, Latvia and Slovenia, 1996–2016 54 5.3 Comparing European small states’ maritime territory versus their land territory (in km2)  55 5.4 Numbers of personnel (2017) in the navies of European small states56 6.1 The Baltic Sea, the Baltic States, Kattegat, Skagerrak and part of the North Sea. 75 8.1 Compilation RNLN 1990–2015 105

Tables 9.1 Maritime capability to dimension matrix 9.2 Baltic state maritime forces, maritime security agencies

122 123

Contributors

William ‘Bill’ Combes, is a retired Captain in the US Navy and a lecturer at the Baltic Defence College in Tartu, Estonia. Before moving to Estonia, Bill completed a 27-year career in the US Navy as submariner and strategist. In addition to commanding a ballistic missile submarine, serving as Chief of Staff of a carrier strike group deployed to the Persian Gulf and his last position as the branch head for US Navy strategy in the Pentagon, he was the US Navy’s Fellow to Oxford University and the Changing Character of War Programme. The Baltic Defence College provided support for his research through their fellowship programme, offered twice a year. Brendan Flynn is a Lecturer with the School of Political Science & Sociology at the National University of Ireland, Galway. He has studied at the University of Essex for his Masters and PhD degrees, his doctoral thesis having the title: ‘Subsidiarity and the Evolution of EU environmental policy’, with Prof. Albert Weale as his supervisor. He has taught a wide variety of undergraduate courses on topics in the areas of Irish politics, introduction to politics, and European politics. He has also offered specialist third option courses in environmental policy and EU policy. His primary research interests include comparative environmental policy, with a special focus on EU and Irish developments. He also retains an interest in wider EU policy and European politics developments. He is the author of The Blame Game: Rethinking Ireland’s Sustainable Development and Environmental Performance (2007, Dublin: Irish Academic Press). Basil Germond is Director of Research Training for the Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences and Senior Lecturer at Lancaster University. He has published two monographs and in excess of 25 peer-­reviewed articles and book chapters on sea power, naval and maritime affairs, as well as ocean governance and maritime security. He has developed cross-­disciplinary research within social sciences (e.g. linguistics, human geography) and beyond (e.g. marine sciences). Basil is a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society (FRGS). Niklas Granholm is Deputy Director of studies at the Swedish Defence Research Agency, FOI, currently placed at the agency’s department for security policy.

Contributors  ix He has been seconded to the Swedish Foreign and Defence Ministries, where he worked with European defence and security related issues. Fields of analysis and studies relate to naval and maritime strategy, geostrategic change in the Arctic, Nordic, transatlantic and European security and defence policy, nuclear strategic development and peace support/crisis management operations. He is a fellow of the Royal Swedish Society for Naval Sciences (KÖMS), the Royal Swedish Academy of War Studies (KkrVA) and an Associate Fellow of the Royal United Services Institute (RUSI) in London. Ciarán Lowe has recently completed a PhD in the Department of History at Maynooth University. His thesis focused on ‘The relevance of size. A comparison of small European navies in the post-­Cold War period, 1990–2017’ and was defended successfully in early 2019. His research concentrated on the idea of small navies, with major case studies into the navies of Ireland and Malta and minor case studies of the Dutch, Norwegian and Croatian navies. In addition to completing his thesis, Ciarán also taught on a number of undergraduate and postgraduate modules for Maynooth University with the Irish Defence Forces. Andrew Mallia is a retired Lieutenant Colonel in the Armed Forces of Malta. After graduating from his initial training at the German Naval Academy in Muerwik, he also graduated from the US Naval War College in Newport with a Diploma in Command and Staff and Joint Professional Military Education Level 1 (JPME 1) and holds an Advanced Diploma in Public International Maritime Law from the IMO International Maritime Law Institute in Malta. He is a two-­time graduate of the USCG SAR School in Yorktown, Virginia and is currently reading for an MA in Maritime Security with Coventry University in the UK. He now works as a freelance maritime security consultant. Among his current activities, he has been engaged by the International Maritime Organization and UN Office on Drugs and Crime to deliver training and assessment activities related to maritime security and maritime domain awareness in various countries. Robert McCabe is Assistant Professor and Course Director for the MA in Maritime Security at the Centre for Trust, Peace and Social Relations at Coventry University. Previously he has worked as a Postdoctoral Research Associate with the School of Law and Politics at Cardiff University on the British Academy Sustainable Development Programme funded project SafeSeas. He holds a PhD in International Security and an MA in Military History and Strategic Studies from Maynooth University. He is the author of Modern Maritime Piracy: Genesis, Evolution and Responses published with Routledge in 2018 and several articles addressing maritime security, development and governance topics. Anselm van der Peet is a senior historian at the Netherlands Institute of Military History (NIMH) of the Dutch Ministry of Defence. He studied history at the University of Utrecht and has written numerous articles and other scholarly

x  Contributors works on the Royal Netherlands Navy in the twentieth century, in particular on gunboat diplomacy, Second World War naval operations, Cold War maritime strategy and worldwide group deployments as well as enforcement missions. In 2016 he completed a PhD at the University of Utrecht on Dutch participation in multinational maritime out-­of-area operations after 1945. He is a member of the editorial board of the magazines Marineblad (Dutch Naval Officers Society) and Atlantisch Perspectief (transatlantic relations and peace and security). Johannes Riber is a naval analyst and Deputy Director at the Institute for Strategy at Denmark’s Royal Defence College. Before that, he was a military analyst at the Danish Institute of International Studies (DIIS) for two years. He holds an MA in International Security Studies from the University of Leicester and has broad operational experience including one year with NATO’s standing naval forces with the Danish Defence Forces. Deborah Sanders is a Reader in Defence and Security Studies in the Defence Studies Department at King’s College London where she specialises in security in the Black Sea and small navies. She is also a member of the Corbett Centre for maritime strategy. Her publications include: Maritime Power in the Black Sea (Ashgate, 2014); Small Navies: Strategy and Policy for Small Navies in War and Peace (Routledge, 2014. editor); and she has published numerous articles on small navies including the Romania, Bulgarian and Russian Black Sea Fleet. Her most recent articles include: ‘Rebuilding the Ukrainian Navy’, US Naval War College Review; and ‘Maritime Security in the Black Sea: out with the new in with the old’, Mediterranean Quarterly. Ian Speller is Associate Professor in the Department of History and Director of the Centre for Military History and Strategic Studies at the National University of Ireland Maynooth. Prior to that he was a Senior Lecturer in the Defence Studies Department at King’s College London and the UK Joint Services Command and Staff College. He has published widely in the fields of maritime strategy and naval history. Recent publications include: Understanding Naval Warfare 2nd edn (Routledge, 2018); Understanding Modern Warfare 2nd edn (Cambridge University Press, 2016. co-­author); and Small Navies: Strategy and Policy for Small Navies in War and Peace (Routledge, 2014. editor). Jeremy Stöhs is an Austrian-­ Amer­ ican defence analyst at the Institute for Security Policy at Kiel University (ISPK) and its adjunct Center for Maritime Strategy & Security. He is also a non-­resident fellow of the Austrian Center for Intelligence, Propaganda & Security Studies (ACIPSS). His current research and teaching focuses on transatlantic relations, maritime security and European naval power. He has written various articles and chapters on the matter and is the author of the book: The Decline of European Naval Forces: Challenges to Sea Power in an Age of Fiscal Austerity and Political Uncertainty (Naval Institute Press, 2018).

Contributors  xi Tor Ivar Strømmen is a Commander in the Norwegian Navy. He currently serves as head teacher (associate professor) at the Royal Norwegian Naval Academy in Bergen, where he teaches strategy, sea power, naval history, military theory and operational planning. He contributes to and leads several research projects. He is also an active contributor to both academic and popular debates about strategy and force development, both nationally and internationally. In 2015, he was one of the main authors and member of the editorial board to the latest iteration of the Norwegian naval doctrine and has previously been part of the editorial board for the Norwegian Naval Staff Handbook. Geoffrey Till is the former Dean of Academic Studies at the United Kingdom Command and Staff College from 1997–2006, and is now Emeritus Professor of Maritime Studies at King’s College London and Chairman of the Corbett Centre for Maritime Policy Studies. Since 2009, he has also been a Visiting Professor at the Rajaratnam School of International Studies, Singapore. He now holds the Dudley W. Knox Chair in Naval History at the US Naval War College, Newport. In addition to many articles and chapters on various aspects of maritime strategy and policy defence, Geoffrey is the author of a number of books including: Seapower: A Guide for the 21st Century. Christopher Xuereb is a Lieutenant Colonel and Staff Officer 1 Land Plans and Operations of the Armed Forces of Malta. He has served in a number of key staff and command appointments at Squadron, Regiment and Brigade levels. In addition, Christopher served as Second-­ in-Command of a Company strength Armed Forces of Malta task group that deployed to Kosovo in 2000. He served as Chief Analyst and Head of Production within the Combined Joint Intelligence (CJ2) Cell at the EUNAVFOR Atalanta Operational Headquarters (OHQ) in Northwood. Subsequently he served as Head of Intelligence Plans at the EUFOR Libya OHQ in Rome. Christopher is a graduate of the Irish Defence Forces Military College Senior Command and Staff Course. He also holds a Masters in Business Administration, an MA in Leadership, Management and Defence Studies and an MA in Humanitarian Action, and is also a Fellow of the Institute of Leadership and Management.

Preface

Books such as this one would not be possible without the support of a great many individuals. The editors would like to thank all of the contributors for their cooperation in producing such high-­quality work, submitting their chapters on time and without protest. The book had its origins in a conference on ‘Europe, Maritime Security and Small Navies’ held at King’s College London in January 2018 and organised in partnership between the Centre for Military History and Strategic Studies at the National University of Ireland, Maynooth; the Corbett Centre for Maritime Policy Studies at King’s College London; and the School of Law and Politics at Cardiff University. The conference set out to explore gaps in the field of maritime security in Europe by developing better understandings of the strategic utility and operational nuances of smaller navies in addressing maritime security threats as well as more broadly examining current and future maritime insecurity and naval developments in Europe and internationally. The contributors to this book all participated in that conference and they gained much from the ability to share ideas with an interested and articulate audience. As such, we would like to thank all of those who attended the conference, as speakers or as delegates, for helping to make it such a useful and vibrant experience. Unfortunately, we could not accommodate all conference papers within this one volume. We should also thank the innumerable colleagues, naval officers, students and others with whom we have discussed ideas about maritime security, strategy and small navies, for their input and ideas, and for their forbearance; there are too many of you to name individually, but you know who you are and you have our gratitude. We must also thank Andrew Humphrys, Bethany Lund-­Yates and everyone else at Routledge for their support in producing this book. Their patience and their professionalism has been greatly appreciated. Finally, we would like to thank you, the reader, for engaging with this topic. We hope that you enjoy the book and we encourage you to think, talk and write about small navies and maritime security as much as possible.

Abbreviations

A2/AD AAW AFM AOPS ASCM ASEAN ASW BALTRON BMD CAOC CGPCS CSI CS21 CS21R C-­ZSK EEZ EMSA EU EUNAVFOR FAC GDP GIUK HA/DR ICBM IDF IMO INS JSS JTAC LCS LTTE MANPAD MCAST

Anti-­Access/Area Denial Anti-­Air Warfare Armed Forces of Malta Arctic Offshore Patrol Ship Anti-Ship Cruise Missile Association of Southeast Asian Nations  Anti-­Submarine Warfare Baltic Naval Squadron Ballistic Missile Defence Combined Air Operations Centre Contact Group on Piracy off the Coast of Somalia Container Security Initiative US Maritime Strategy (2007) US Maritime Strategy – Revised 2nd edn (2015) Commandant Zeestrijdkrachten Exclusive Economic Zone European Maritime Safety Agency European Union European Union Naval Force Fast Attack Craft Gross Domestic Product Greenland-­Iceland-United Kingdom Humanitarian Assistance/Disaster Relief Intercontinental Ballistic Missile Israeli Defence Forces International Maritime Organization Irish Naval Service Joint Support Ship Joint Terminal Attack Controller  Littoral Combat Ship Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam Man Portable Air Defence System Maltese College of Art, Science and Technology

xiv  Abbreviations MCM MDA MIOPS MPA MSO NATO NGO NM NMCI NORDEFCO OPV OSCE PESCO

Mine Countermeasures Maritime Domain Awareness Maritime Interdiction Operations Maritime Patrol Aircraft Maritime Security Operations North Atlantic Treaty Organization Non-­Governmental Organisation Nautical Mile National Maritime College Ireland Nordic Defence Cooperation Offshore Patrol Vessel Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe Permanent Structured Cooperation on Security and Defence PFP (NATO) Partnership for Peace PGM Precision Guided Munitions PLAN (Chinese) People’s Liberation Army Navy PSO Peace Support Operation RBN Royal Brunei Navy RCN Royal Canadian Navy RECLIB Joint mission to remove chemical weapons from Libya RECSYR Joint UN mission to remove chemical weapons from Syria RHIB Rigid Hull Inflatable Boats RMP Recognised Maritime Picture RNLMC Royal Netherlands Marine Corps RNLN Royal Netherlands Navy RNoN Royal Norwegian Navy RSN Royal Singapore Navy SAR Search and Rescue SDR Strategic Defence Reviews SLN Sri Lankan Navy SLOCs Sea Lines of Communication SNMG1 Standing NATO Maritime Group 1 [Atlantic] SSBN Ship Submersible Ballistic Nuclear (Ballistic Missile-­ Carrying Submarine) SSM Surface-­to-Surface Missile STANAVFORCHAN (NATO) Standing Naval Force Channel STANAVFORLANT (NATO) Standing Naval Force Atlantic [now SNMG1] SUCBAS Sea Surveillance Co-­operation Baltic Sea SUCFIS Surveillance Co-­operation Finland-­Sweden TEU Twenty Foot Equivalent Unit UAS Unmanned Aviation Systems UAV Unmanned Aerial Vehicle UN United Nations

Abbreviations  xv UNCLOS UNIFIL US USCG USN VPDs WAPA WECDIS

United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon United States of America United States Coast Guard United States Navy Vessel Protection Detachments Warsaw Pact Warship Electronic Chart Display and Information Systems

1 Introduction Europe, small navies and maritime security Robert McCabe, Deborah Sanders and Ian Speller

This book examines the role of small navies in European security. It addresses the ways in which such navies have tried to fulfil a variety of traditional and non-­traditional duties and how they have adapted to meet new and emerging challenges. The book has a dual purpose. First, it aims to explore the role of small navies within the European security architecture, and therefore to shed new light on European security matters within an environment that is often neglected. Widespread ignorance of that environment means that navies (particularly small navies) are commonly overlooked in popular considerations of national security, often being viewed as somewhat less vital than armies or air forces. This book demonstrates that such views are flawed. Second, the book aims to address wider points of interest about small navies themselves. Discourse on maritime strategy and security is dominated by the larger navies. Smaller navies are often overlooked, despite the fact that most navies within Europe, and worldwide, can be defined as ‘small’. This book seeks to redress that balance, examining ideas about small navies in general (in Part I) before exploring a number of case studies that address practical examples (Part II). The latter have been chosen to highlight the wide range of policies, actions and challenges facing Europe’s smaller navies, and also to demonstrate the various ways in which such navies make an important contribution to European defence and security. The book does not seek to provide a comprehensive guide to each small European navy; that would require a much longer volume and would replicate the analysis provided in books such as Jane’s Fighting Ships.1 Instead it provides a more thematic examination of the topic that sheds new light on European security and on our understanding of navies and naval policy. Until recently the maritime domain was rather neglected in post-­Cold War discourse on European security, particularly as traditional naval threats appeared to have diminished with the demise of the old Soviet fleet. However, there is now a growing appreciation that threats to European maritime security are multifaceted and are perpetrated by a broad collection of national and transnational actors with diverse objectives. Threats and challenges include piracy and armed robbery against merchant vessels, terrorism at and from the sea, illegal migration, smuggling of arms, narcotics and other goods, the unregulated exploitation

2  Robert McCabe et al. of marine resources, marine accidents and the problem of pollution at sea. They also include more traditional state-­based challenges, including tension in the Black and Baltic Seas as well as Northern Waters, often linked to fears about a resurgent threat from Russia. In recent years, the sea has provided the medium for a number of European navies to project power ashore, notably during the Libyan and Syrian Civil Wars. The growing accessibility of the Arctic Ocean due to climate change adds another dimension, and one that is changing maritime geography. The maritime domain is central to European security today and it is certain to remain so in the years ahead. Somewhat belatedly, policy makers now recognise this point. The European Union (EU) published its first Maritime Security Strategy and Action Plan in 2014 to ‘secure the maritime security interests of the EU and its Member States against a plethora of risks and threats in the global maritime domain’.2 This complements maritime security strategies and declarations adopted at a national level within the EU by Spain (2013), Britain (2014) and France (2015), and internationally by countries including the US (2005) and India (2015) and by international organisations such as the African Union (2012) and the G7 (2015). The publication of these strategies highlights growing recognition of the need to secure the maritime space against non-­traditional threats and also shows understanding that this relates not just to Europe but globally, given the transnational nature of threats and the interconnectedness of global seaborne trade. As will become clear, the growing emphasis on ‘maritime security’ by national and international bodies has given smaller navies a new salience in terms of security policy, providing impetus for many to develop this as a key role. This book seeks to identify and address gaps in our understanding of maritime security and the role of small navies in Europe, including governance, information sharing, capacity building and capability development alongside actions (collaborative or otherwise) aimed at achieving more efficient and effective maritime security operations. With an increasingly connected, contested and complex international maritime security climate, the book also aims to develop better understandings of the strategic utility and operational nuances of smaller navies in addressing emergent threats in both coastal and blue-­water spaces. This is crucial given that nearly 90 per cent of the EU’s external trade and more than 40 per cent of its internal trade is seaborne with nearly two billion tons of freight loaded and unloaded in EU ports each year.3 National and international security strategies recognise that the sea will remain a source of conflict, competition and instability, and a conduit for transnational challenges to impact on European prosperity and security. Unfortunately, and despite the premature claims of some, more traditional ‘hard security’ challenges are not a thing of the past. This is at least as true of maritime security as it is of security ashore, a point that has been reflected in the considerations of many national governments and of organisations such as NATO and the EU.4 The book also explores the role of small navies in meeting ‘traditional’ security threats such as those posed by state versus state confrontation and also by hybrid challenges. It includes a number of chapters focused on

Introduction: Europe, small navies, maritime security   3 the Baltic and on Northern Waters, where the local (small) navies have, in recent years, reconfigured to meet a resurgent ‘threat’ from Russia. Many of these navies had previously re-­shaped policy to meet less traditional challenges, such as those articulated in the EU Maritime Security Strategy. The case studies provide an interesting opportunity to explore how different European states view the current security environment in different ways and also how naval policy has undergone significant changes, from one role to another and then back again, all within the lifetime of the existing naval assets. In addition, this book examines how maritime security and naval development in Europe might evolve given that financial reality will continue to impact on naval procurement, which means that European states will increasingly have to do more with less in the maritime domain.

Small navies and maritime security Most existing literature on maritime security and strategy focuses on larger navies. The dominant narrative derives from an Anglo-­Amer­ican tradition associated with the writings of Alfred Thayer Mahan (1840–1914) and Sir Julian Corbett (1854–1922).5 These, and their fellow travellers, established concepts and principles that had a profound influence on the thought and practice of major navies in the twentieth century and that continue to be reflected in the published doctrine of many navies today.6 The best known alternatives to this tradition, such as the French ‘young school’ and the Soviet ‘new school’, argued that smaller navies should focus on coastal defence, local sea denial and/or commerce raiding.7 These ideas might well prove attractive to some navies, in some contexts, but such strategies were often relevant only in terms of a smaller navy’s relationship to a larger potential enemy. They did not relate to the concerns of all small navies. Moreover, traditional works of maritime strategy tended to focus on war and the preparation for war and usually had little to say about the kind of peacetime duties that might represent the most likely role for many navies. During the Cold War, discussion of small navies remained true to this general tradition and tended to focus on their role as potential allies or adversaries of larger navies; an issue of obvious interest to the latter but one that might not adequately reflect the actual role and purpose of the former. The assumption tended to be that small navies were scaled-­down versions of their larger counterparts, operating with limited means and therefore with limited aspirations, which usually resulted in a focus on defensive roles in local waters. Thus, in 1986 Joseph R. Morgan wrote that small navies are configured to operate in basically defensive modes … none can exert ocean-­wide influence, and all are designed with limited objectives and relatively small ocean areas in mind. The typical small navy, then, is one that is limited in its power-­projection capability and operational range.8 Two years later, Morgan questioned if there was ‘something that clearly distinguishes small navies (the porpoises) from their larger relations (the whales) other

4  Robert McCabe et al. than the mere size of the largest ships contained in each’. He concluded that small navies differed from large navies in their inability to ‘perform naval functions over large areas or with a great amount of force and effectiveness, and in their lack of ships capable of great force projection’.9 Morgan’s approach reflected a very traditional view of such navies and of naval roles, viewed through the lens of the Cold War, where to be small was an inferior state of being. It is not easy to provide a clear and satisfactory definition of what one might mean by the term ‘small navy’. The definitional problem is complicated by the fact that many navies might prefer not to be described in such terms. Approaches that seek to categorise navies based on a simple quantitative assessment (i.e. numbers of platforms, personnel, weapons systems etc.) are problematic given the difficulty of making meaningful assessments on that basis. Is a navy with many obsolete vessels and lots of poorly trained personnel really ‘larger’ than one with a smaller number of modern, capable ships and sufficient numbers of well-­motivated, highly trained crew? Does ‘size’ relate merely to numbers or does it also reflect capability, range and roles? Comparisons are particularly difficult as capability is usually dependent on technology that remains hidden to the casual observer and on factors such as training, education, doctrine and leadership that can be difficult to judge or compare. If one is to avoid the danger of paradigm/diffusion models, where one assumes that all navies can be judged in comparison to the role and capabilities of the largest (which would be absurd), then how does one judge the relative strengths of navies that are structured differently or that focus on entirely different roles? Thus, for example, is the contemporary Danish Navy ‘smaller’ than the Norwegian or Swedish navies? The latter both have submarines, a capacity that the Danish Navy does not possess. Conversely, Sweden does not have any frigates at all, while the Danish Navy has the largest frigates in Scandinavia, measured by tonnage (see Chapter 11). Eric Grove’s nine-­fold ‘typology’ has remained a popular way of categorising navies, focusing on a combination of numbers, range, role and overall capabilities to place navies in one or other of the following categories:10 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Major Global Force Projection Navy Major Global Force Projection Navy (Partial) Medium Global Force Projection Navy Medium Regional Force Projection Navy Adjacent Force Projection Navy Offshore Territorial Defence Navy Inshore Territorial Defence Navy Constabulary Navy Token Navy

Grove suggested that navies in ranks four down to nine tended to be ‘small navies’, but some small navies figure higher in the ranking (with Singapore

Introduction: Europe, small navies, maritime security   5 ­identified as the most powerful ‘small’ navy, in rank three).11 The roles, composition and activities of ‘small navies’ vary greatly from categories four to nine; note the local power projection and expeditionary activities of the Iranian and Saudi Arabian navies (rank 5) compared to the chiefly constabulary naval activities of Ireland and Iceland (rank 8). Given this, Geoffrey Till has questioned whether it is worth thinking about small navies as a distinct group, arguing that the differences between small navies are likely to be as great as those between small navies and their larger counterparts.12 That point is revisited by Till in Chapter 2 of this book. Similarly, in Chapter 4 Mallia and Xuereb identify that small navies have wide variations in their roles, organisational concepts, technical means and institutional performance, challenging the notion that they should be thought of as a distinct group. This book follows the lead set by Mulqueen et al. in 2014 and does not attempt to define scientifically the term ‘small navies’.13 Instead it takes a more subjective approach, accepting Till’s suggestion that a small navy is simply one that has ‘limited means and aspirations’.14 This allows us to explore the activities of a wide range of different navies, none of which are large, without having to rely on an artificial theoretical construct that limits our enquiry unnecessarily. Within the context of this book the term ‘small navies’ includes some organisations whose aspirations are constrained by very limited means (i.e. Croatia, Ireland), and others that have some large and powerful assets and the capacity to project these far from home (i.e. The Netherlands). It excludes navies that have the full range of military capabilities or those who aspire to maintain the capability to undertake independent large- or medium-­scale operations beyond the adjacent seas. Equipped with nuclear submarines, aircraft carriers, significant amphibious forces and numerous ocean-­going escorts, the British, French and Russian navies are not small. One can argue the case for the navies of Italy, Spain and perhaps also Germany, who have a significant range and scale of capability and ambition. For the purpose of this book, all other European navies are considered small. Morgan’s suggestion that small navies tend to be limited in terms of the range at which they operate, and in their ability to project power, may not be as true today as it seemed 30 years ago. In terms of maritime security operations, small navies are able to project power, influence and operational impact well beyond the littoral, particularly in the context of cooperative European security architectures. The Irish Naval Service, for example, has deployed a series of vessels to the Mediterranean to participate in EUNAVFOR MED Operation Sophia, contributing to an important multinational mission, supporting Irish diplomatic efforts and saving tens of thousands of migrants who might otherwise have drowned.15 Even the tiny Croatian navy has contributed to multinational counter-­ piracy operations in the western Indian Ocean, very far from home (see Chapter 13). Effective maritime security implies the need for closer collaboration between navies of all sizes, and various other stakeholders, such as coastguards, but also a wider range of public and private actors including port authorities, the judicial

6  Robert McCabe et al. and penal system, the shipping industry and coastal community groups.16 As Combes reinforces in Chapter 9, coastal navies need to identify and document their specific maritime security needs and build their forces and capabilities to meet their requirements that span the constabulary and military dimensions of maritime security. Solutions require a ‘maritime security’ discussion and not a ‘naval’ one. This point has been well understood by many governments and by international organisations, giving smaller navies an imperative to respond and an opportunity to exploit. Being small (in terms of numbers or capabilities) does not necessarily mean a navy cannot be ‘powerful’ relative to its national maritime strategic aspirations. According to Hu and Oliver, ‘if a navy is able to fulfil and meet the functional needs required by the environment or circumstance in which it serves, it is a powerful navy regardless of its physical size’.17 Take the tiny Slovenian Navy as an example. It is formally a branch of the Ground Force and effectively consists of just two ships, yet has been able to maximise its influence by embracing expeditionary maritime security operations. As Flynn highlights in Chapter 5, Slovenia deployed a number of naval personnel to the Djibouti-­based operational command of EUNAVFOR Operation Atalanta in 2009 and is credited with the rescue of over 400 migrants and the removal of nine people-­smuggling vessels from circulation in support of the Italian government’s Mare Nostrum operation in 2013 and 2014.18 This contribution was not merely symbolic.19 In terms of power and impact, size is not everything. Fulfilling the strategic ambitions of a navy, particularly one with ‘limited means and aspirations’ can be challenging. The Royal Norwegian Navy, for example, struggles in terms of its defence planning and strategic thinking between balancing capabilities to influence developments globally, maintaining sovereign rights and fulfilling more traditional defensive requirements (see Chapter 10). Here, context is important, given its geostrategic position in waters that have become key securitised projection spaces for Russia, the US and NATO. Indeed, the Baltic, Mediterranean and Black Seas are all similar in that they are ‘mature’ seas, with functioning navies or coastguards that ensure local and international maritime laws are policed and enforced; that enjoy productive diplomatic relations with (most of ) their neighbours and maritime disputes are typically resolved via internationally recognised processes. However, all three seas could quickly transition to ‘contested’ seas – as they have many times over the distant and recent past.20 In the decade after the Cold War, most European navies went through a process of downsizing, in terms of ship numbers if not necessarily in terms of overall tonnages (see Chapter 7). With the demise of the Soviet threat, and no peer able to rival the dominance of the US Navy, most Western navies reduced their emphasis on sea control and denial against first-­class opposition and focused instead on power projection capabilities and on the ability to contribute to maritime security operations including humanitarian missions far from home. In the absence of an obvious domestic threat, they focused on the ‘away game’, contributing to peace and security further afield. Unfortunately, the situation in European waters now looks less benign than it once did. The revitalisation of the

Introduction: Europe, small navies, maritime security   7 Russian armed forces, Vladimir Putin’s assertive foreign policy and Russian use of hybrid tactics to destabilise its neighbours (notably Georgia in 2008 and Ukraine since 2014) have caused a number of European states to refocus on an apparent threat to the east. Traditional naval concerns relating to sea control and denial are now back on the agenda. This happens at a time when the US Navy has refocused its attention on the emergence of a possible peer rival in east Asia and President Trump has cast doubt on the nature of the US commitment to Europe. European navies may have to face the challenge from Russia with rather less support than they have been used to. This has profound implications for many navies, and these are explored in detail in Part II of this book.

Structure The book is organised in two parts. Part I focuses on thinking about the idea of small navies, seeking to establish defining characteristics, common features and shared experiences and to explore the extent to which such navies should be thought of differently to the larger navies that have dominated the academic and policy debate to date. The analysis here contextualises the case studies that follow and makes an important contribution to our understanding of maritime security and also traditional maritime strategy when understood from the perspective of smaller navies. Part II includes a number of case studies that explore maritime security and strategy within the European context. These address a number of navies of differing size, outlook and capability in order to provide a broad ranging analysis that provides insight into the array of plans, policies and actions adopted by different navies. Together these provide the opportunity to explore the diversity of threat perception within the European context and the impact that this can have on maritime security and naval policy and practice. They also provide the opportunity to explore the multitude of tasks undertaken by smaller navies and the ways in which they have adapted to match scarce resources to the challenges that they face. The opening chapter is provided by Geoffrey Till, who begins by positioning small navies in the current strategic context, outlining the challenges for all navies in trying to cope with a broad range of contingencies whether they are global in their outlook (large navies), principally regional (medium navies) or preoccupied with local concerns (small navies). The balance they strike between these missions and the way in which they are interpreted reflects the characteristics of the nations they seek to defend, which bear some passing resemblance to the elements of seapower identified by Alfred Thayer Mahan. Till identifies important characteristics, such as the extent to which states see themselves as outward-­looking trading countries and the importance of geographic location. For example, states next to large assertive powers like Russia – such as the Baltic and Scandinavian countries – generally have a much greater sense of threat than countries such as Ireland, which are sheltered by their location. Others in similar strategic circumstances such as Finland accord a much higher priority to decisional sovereignty. Till concludes that, if the right combination of

8   Robert McCabe et al. technology, effective strategy and political, legal and psychological frameworks are achieved, smaller navies, in the right general context, could aspire to significant strategic effect even when confronting apparently much greater navies. In Chapter 3, Basil Germond examines traditional conceptualisations of seapower and the transferability and relevance of these notions to contemporary small navies. The concept of seapower is so firmly associated with the writings of Mahan that in collective imaginaries it still implies binary categorisations. Big navies are the depository of seapower and can exert it, whereas small navies are destined to live in the shadow of the big navies and remain footnotes in (naval) history. Germond challenges this vision and shows that small navies can also exert some form of seapower. He explores the interlinkages between seapower, maritime security and ocean governance, as well as the types of seapower that small navies can exert, at which level and with which effect. In Chapter 4, Mallia and Xuereb examine the use of force multipliers by small navies, framing this examination within case studies, in order to verify the effectiveness and efficiency of this approach. They do so with specific reference to small navies on the basis that, being already limited in size, such navies have far more to gain from force multipliers than their larger counterparts. They begin by considering what constitutes a small navy and analysing the specific challenges that they face before going on to define and introduce the concept of force multipliers, highlighting the advantages and also potential pitfalls, limitations and drawbacks. Mallia and Xuereb conclude that force multipliers offer a real option for enhancing the capability of small navies; but planners must consider potential shortcomings and unintended effects, noting that force-­multipliers can only be as effective as the existing force structure to which they are applied. Following this, in Chapter 5, Brendan Flynn examines naval procurement challenges for a contrasting set of very small European states. These include a pair of non-­NATO navies (Ireland and Cyprus) and a trio of very small navies that sit within the NATO alliance (Iceland, Slovenia and Latvia), providing for a geographic spread. Flynn makes three core arguments. First, that alliance membership, either of NATO or the EU, may be much less important than is assumed in explaining how and why small states develop their limited naval capabilities. Second, that there is a dearth of strategic thinking evident in how small navies procure vessels and other core equipment. Finally, despite their small size and meagre resources, the participation of small navies in expeditionary maritime security operations has been of value and could produce significant changes in their limited procurement plans. In Chapter 6, Niklas Granholm explores how small navies need to find ways to achieve enhanced cooperation to meet emergent security threats within an environment where traditional and non-­traditional threats are apparent. Focusing on the Baltic Sea, he argues that Western navies must be able to deal with ‘grey-­ zone warfare’ that blurs the line between criminality and hybrid warfare, and they must also cater for the possibility of more direct ‘high-­end warfare’. Failure to do so may create opportunities for an adversary that has already proven willing and able to exploit the weakness of its neighbours in the Black Sea

Introduction: Europe, small navies, maritime security  9 region. The multifaceted nature of the threat requires navies to be able to operate across a broad spectrum and to cooperate effectively with each other and with other security agencies. The challenge is made more difficult as the requirements to deal with ‘grey-­zone challenges’, emphasising numbers and presence, may conflict with those needed for high-­end warfare, where expensive war fighting capabilities are required. Part II focuses on case studies of maritime strategy and security within a European context. In Chapter 7, Jeremy Stöhs sets the scene by examining how European states have adjusted their naval policies to deal with the changing international security architecture. He addresses the aspects of decline among the smaller navies in Europe, discusses some of its causes (technical, fiscal) and its consequences (limitations, advantages, focus on soft-­ security issues). This chapter also explores the limits to niche specialisation and the trend towards more balanced fleets (Norway, Poland) and larger platforms (Sweden, Finland, Belgium). Finally, the chapter addresses the question of whether or not small navies provide policymakers more deliverables to achieve political ends than they did 20 or 30 years ago, despite narratives of decline. In Chapter 8, Anselm van der Peet focuses on the example of the Royal Netherlands Navy (RNLN) and the impact of the Cold War on the development of operations and doctrine. In the first decade after 1990, the Dutch government positioned the navy as a tool of first resolve as a reaction to international crises. This chapter explores the reasons for this shift and how the RNLN influenced Dutch foreign and security policy in the context of European and/or bilateral defence and security cooperation. The Dutch government published a new naval doctrine in autumn 2005, which was updated in February 2014, and also restructured the RNLN fleet. Van der Peet questions whether this was the result of a new (inter)national maritime security environment and different mission requirements, or of an increasingly shrinking defence budget. William Combes (Chapter 9) focuses on the Baltic region and identifies the maritime challenges and de-­facto maritime strategies of the Baltic States, contrasting these with other small navies who face significant security concerns (Georgia and Israel). He proposes recommendations on how the very small nations of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania could develop a maritime security strategy. Such strategies are crucial as securing access to the Baltic Sea, protecting international freedoms on the sea and challenges to sovereignty from the sea are vital to the future security of the Baltic States and their contribution to NATO and the EU. In Chapter 10, Tor Ivar Strømmen explores the strategic roles of the Royal Norwegian Navy as a tailor-­made organisation for Norway’s specific geostrategic environment and security requirements, balancing both existential strategic requirements and other maritime security interests. This military-­ includes the role of the navy in relation to land and air forces in defence of Norway, as well as how littorals can be effectively utilised to enhance Norway’s maritime security. By virtue of its geography, economy and culture, Norway as a coastal state is an overwhelmingly maritime nation with a distinct maritime outlook and maritime-­related threats. Norwegian maritime strategy is therefore

10  Robert McCabe et al. not subordinated to national military strategy as it, rather than merely complementing it, is a constant, central component within it. Consequently, as this chapter illustrates, Norwegian military strategy is essentially a maritime strategy. Johannes Riber (Chapter 11) argues that maritime strategy is not only a strategy for major powers and that smaller states like Denmark are able to establish political influence through a maritime strategy. Denmark might not be willing or able to project maritime power; however, it uses its navy as a bargaining chip to create political influence in international institutions such as NATO and the UN, as well as bilateral influence with the US. Danish naval strategy has changed directions multiple times since the Cold War. During the 1990s and the beginning of the 2000s, it was predominantly characterised by a strategy of influence; however, increased international focus on the Arctic, Greenlandic aspiration for independence and later Russia’s new role in European security during the 2010s, has forced Danish naval strategy toward a dual track strategic approach that includes both influence and autonomy. Focusing on a different sea, but one that also faces a Russian ‘threat’, in Chapter 12 Deborah Sanders describes how the Russian Federation’s rapid and illegal annexation of Crimea in 2014 had a profoundly negative effect on the Ukrainian Navy. The service lost access to a third of its Black Sea coastline, control of the Kerch Straits and access to the defence industries and bases located in Crimea. It lost the majority of its service personnel and access to its military and maritime infrastructure in Crimea. The Ukrainian Navy also lost the majority of its most modern platforms. The chapter examines the progress Ukraine has made in rebuilding its small navy and examines its ability to address the increased maritime security threats that now exist in its maritime domain. Finally, in Chapter 13 Ciarán Lowe examines three very small navies; those of Croatia, Ireland and Malta. Lowe establishes that all three have adopted different approaches tailored to their own needs, there is no ‘small navies template’ and the differences between these navies may be as significant as their similarities. However, it is apparent that all three have, in different ways, made an important contribution to national defence policy despite their limited size. Notably, each has exploited the opportunity to contribute to international maritime security operations and has used this to make a meaningful contribution to European (and international) security and also to demonstrate their relevance to a domestic audience. Some of the case studies focus on navies that have emphasised the importance of meeting non-­traditional security tasks within a multi-­national context for operations beyond littoral waters. Some address navies that have refocused on conventional and hybrid threats closer to home, others feature navies whose interests remain largely constabulary. The process reveals much about the ways in which naval policy is developed and the challenges that this can pose to any navy, regardless of size. It also offers the opportunity to explore the different ways in which small European navies cooperate with each other, and also with larger navies. As has been discussed, the case studies address issues that are of growing importance within the context of current European defence policy but

Introduction: Europe, small navies, maritime security  11 focus on actors that are often neglected. This book aims to challenge that neglect, to demonstrate the importance of the topic and to encourage further debate.

Notes   1 Commodore Stephen Saunders (ed.), IHS Jane’s Fighting Ships, 2017–18 (London: IHS Jane’s, 2017).   2 Council of the EU, EU Maritime Security Strategy. 2014, 3 http://register.consilium. europa.eu/doc/srv?l=EN&f=ST%2011205%202014%20INIT [2 February 2019].   3 Isabel Novo-­Corti and Fernando González-Laxe, ‘Maritime Transport and Trade: The Impact of European Transport Policy. An Overview of Maritime Freight Transport Patterns’, European Research Studies 12, no. 1 (2009): 135.   4 For example, see NATO News, ‘To combat Russian subs, NATO allies are teaming up to develop naval drones’ in NATO Source. Atlantic Council, 2 October 2018. www.atlanticcouncil.org/blogs/natosource/to-­combat-russian-­subs-nato-­allies-are-­ teaming-up-­to-develop-­naval-drones [2 February 2019].   5 For example, see Julian S. Corbett, Principles of Maritime Strategy (New York: Dover Publications Inc., 1911: 2004); Alfred Thayer Mahan, The Influence of Sea Power Upon History, 1660–1783 (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-­Hall, 1890).   6 For example, see JDP 0–10, British Maritime Doctrine, 5th edn (Swindon: DCDC, 2017) or Australian Maritime Doctrine. RAN Doctrine 1 2010, 2nd edn (Seapower Centre, 2010).   7 Speller, Understanding Naval Warfare, 2nd edn, pp. 56–71.   8 Joseph R. Morgan, ‘Small Navies’, Ocean Yearbook 6 (1986): 388.   9 Joseph R. Morgan, ‘Porpoises among the whales: small navies in Asia and the Pacific’, East West Center Special Reports, No. 2, March 1994, p. 12. 10 Eric Grove, The Future of Sea Power (Annapolis, MD. Naval Institute Press, 1990) pp. 237–40. 11 Eric Grove, ‘The ranking of small navies revisited’, in Michael Mulqueen, Deborah Sanders and Ian Speller (eds.), Small Navies. Strategy and Policy for Small Navies in War and Peace (Farnham: Ashgate, 2014) pp. 15–20. 12 Geoffrey Till, ‘Can small navies stay afloat?’, in Jane’s Navy International, May 2003. Also, Geoffrey Till, ‘Are small navies different’ in Mulqueen et al., Small Navies, pp. 21–32. 13 Mulqueen et al., Small Navies, Introduction. 14 Till, ‘Can small navies stay afloat?’, Jane’s Navy International. 15 ‘Minister Kehoe Secures Dáil Approval For Deployment Of Defence Forces To EU Naval Mission – Operation Sophia’. www.defence.ie/en/press/press-­releases/minister-­ kehoe-secures-­dail-approval-­deployment-defence-­forces-eu-­naval [2 February 2019]. 16 C. Bueger, T. Edmunds with R. Alcock and R. McCabe, ‘Mastering Maritime Security: Reflexive Capacity Building and the Western Indian Ocean Experience – A Best Practice Toolkit’ (2018): 5. https://doi.org/10.5281/zenodo.1157961 [2 February 2019]. 17 Nien-­Tsu Alfred Hu and James K. Oliver, ‘A Framework for Small Navy Theory: The 1982 U.N. Law of the Sea Convention’, Naval War College Review 41, no. 2 (Spring 1988): 40. 18 Andrej Osterman, ‘Republic Of Slovenia in NATO – Slovenian Armed Forces ten years later’, Contemporary Military Challenges 16, no. 3 (October 2014): 50. 19 Naval Today, ‘Slovenian patrol ship departs EUNAVFOR’s Op Sophia’, 14 March 2016, available at https://navaltoday.com/2016/03/14/slovenian-­patrol-ship-­departseunavfors-­op-sophia/ [19 February 2019]. 20 See William Combes, ‘Value of the Freedom of the Seas’ (July 2013), http://dx.doi. org/10.2139/ssrn.3028642 for a more detailed discussion on the four types of seas: mature, contested, transitional and ungoverned.

Part I

Theorising small navies and maritime security

2 Small navies in the current strategic context Geoffrey Till

One of the reasons for developing and maintaining navies is the nation’s aspiration to help shape the context in which it operates, and generally to have strategic effect. Unless navies can do that there would be little point in having them. However, they are shaped by that context too, since this determines what their leaders think the context requires by way of naval missions and also decides whether they are willing to provide the resources with which they can be performed. Today’s naval planners have to deal with a particularly difficult and complex strategic context, and there seem to have emerged at least two and possibly three visions of the maritime future for which nations have to prepare their navies. The first vision is post-­Westphalian and system-­centred. It focuses on mutually beneficial free trade, with the least barriers between states as possible. The more states trade, the argument goes, the less they fight. It is about multilateral cooperation between states in which common problems such as economic recession, climate change, food, energy and water shortages, pandemics, international terrorism and other such threats to international peace and stability are addressed and managed cooperatively. This creates a need to protect the international sea-­based trading system against a spectrum of threats ranging from the depredations of maritime criminals at one end of the scale to inter-­state war at the other. These strategies are often based on the need to react to distant crises lest their effects come home. The ability to do so depends on ‘the capacity to manoueuvre’, namely the ability to do what must be done to protect the system. Protecting the system might require humanitarian assistance and disaster response (HADR), ‘Maritime Security operations’ against disorder at sea, where the emphasis is on collaboration with others against common threats like piracy and people- and drugs-­smuggling – and capacity building so that the locals are better able to police their own regions. It might require maintaining ‘good order from the sea’ against developments ashore that threaten the system. These all depend on a newer version of the traditional concept of sea control which is less about one nation or group of nations commanding or dominating the sea and more about making it safe and free for legitimate use by all peoples. Because this vision is essentially global the ability to operate in a sustained way a long way from home is often critical.

16  Geoffrey Till Against this comes the second vision of the maritime future – which by contrast reverts to a competitive Westphalian world dominated by considerations of who gets what, when and how, in which traditional nineteenth- and twentieth-­ century balance of power conceptions will be expanded to draw in and to hopefully manage the rising powers of the Asia-­Pacific region, particularly China, the possible re-­emergence of a revitalised Russia and the growing impact of Brazil and other countries in the Middle East, South America and, perhaps, Africa. This is a world in which the ultimate naval duty is to protect the people, territory and interests of the state. It is essentially competitive and largely based on the maintenance and development of traditional war-­fighting capabilities against possible adversaries. The emphasis will be on deterrence. Si vis pacem, para bellum as Heraclitus once said 1500 years ago or, in the current narrative of the revitalised US 2nd Fleet, navies must be ‘Ready to fight … so we don’t have to.’1 Two quick points need to be made about this. First, and contrary to common political usage, both these visions of the maritime future can be thought of as international systems. In both cases, there is an international order and it does have rules. They are both ‘rules based orders’ – only those that apply in the traditional, competitive vision are rather harder-­headed, more about political expediency and what works, than expressions of well-­meaning liberal moral values. Second, virtually all states, no matter their size, are concerned not just about themselves, but about their place in the wider world. Accordingly, they will behave and prepare in possibly contradictory ways that suit both visions of the maritime future. China can be taken as an example. On the one hand, it seems to be carving out a sphere of interest for itself in the Western Pacific by strengthening its holdings in the South China Sea, by challenging the status quo in the East China Sea and setting up the capability to contest access to the waters within the second island chain that would make life potentially hazardous for unwelcome naval forces operating within it by means of a variety of ‘Anti-­Access and Area Denial’ (A2/AD) strategies. At the same time, in order to protect their wider interests, the PLA Navy is forging into the Indian Ocean, coming up against India and starting to construct the basis of a permanent more sustainable presence there. At the same time, the Chinese also advocate a more benign image of the ‘harmonious ocean’ in which they and others come together for such things as the counter-­piracy campaign off Somalia, disaster relief in Southeast Asia and capacity building in Africa. This is allied to the stupendous Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), which they present as a ‘win–win opportunity’ for everyone to benefit by ‘getting aboard the Chinese economic express train’. The two policies are potentially contradictory in that their hard behaviour in the South China Sea -makes it more difficult for local states with competing claims in that area to trust them. The Russians, on the other hand, present a rather clearer case. Although their navy can behave in a professionally cooperative manner when they choose to (as in fact it is generally agreed they do in the Arctic2), there is much less stress on the cooperative vision of the maritime future and much more on presenting a

Small navies in the current strategic context  17 quite combative challenge to US and Western leadership in Europe and the world and a greater willingness to use force where and when considered necessary. However, because the Russians are in a much weaker position than the Chinese economically and even militarily in some respects they have sought other ways of outflanking the West’s military advantages. In Russia, General Gerasimov has articulated the idea of ‘hybrid warfare’ where states make use of the methods used by non-­state actors which are militarily weak – the use of proxies – the so called ‘little green men’ in the Crimean and Eastern Ukraine cases, of denial of service cyber attacks and informational ‘maskirovka’ campaigns such as over the Salisbury attack.3 The Chinese do this too, with their great fleets of controlled fishing boats in the South China Seas – the so-­called ‘people’s militia’ – but their special line, developed over 20 years, is what they sometimes call the ‘three warfares’, which incorporates political persuasion with psychological pressure but puts a special emphasis on ‘weaponising’ maritime law, particularly in the Western Pacific, as a means of bolstering their claims to the area and what they think those claims entitle them to.4 Russian and Chinese behaviour is set against a background of concern about the independent rise of global crime networks in the shape, for example, of drugs- – and people-­smuggling organisations often endowed with resources greater than those of many states. The problem of international terrorism and religious extremism continues, despite the containment of ISIS in Syria. Additionally, there is growing concern about the so-­called ‘Truth Decay’ resulting from the irresponsible use of social media, which leads people to believe only what they want to believe and to the consequent decay of authority.5 Putting all this together with some worrying aspects of international behaviour, there may well emerge a third, bleaker, more terrifying vision of a maritime future, in which there is no order and no rules. It would comprise a state of anarchic lawlessness at sea and on land – a Hobbesian ‘anti-­system’ characterised by globalised insecurity and bewilderingly distributed and ever-­changing threats at every level. Because it would lessen every state’s capacity to control its own destiny, none would wish to see this third vision finally materialise, but all the same some are prepared to take greater risks of it happening,6 while others find it difficult to prevent in places like the Sulu Sea. If they wish to matter, to be able to make a difference, to deliver strategic effect, irrespective of their size, navies have to prepare, according to their circumstances, for all three visions of the maritime future, the traditional competitive vision, the cooperative alternative and the newest, bleakest anarchic possibility. Because they have responded to the full spectrum of possible contingencies at sea, today’s navies have to develop an enormously wide range of capabilities. This requirement is not of course entirely new since much of their historic value has derived from their essential flexibility and ubiquity, but is arguably more demanding now than it has been before. It requires the performance of five sets of sometimes related tasks. First, and, because of the overriding need to protect the state, usually foremost, are the

18  Geoffrey Till c­ ontinuing requirements to maintain the capacity to control the sea in order to project power ashore, or to prevent an adversary from doing so, to defend – or possibly attack – the capacity to use the sea as a form of transport. This requires an emphasis on high-­end warfare capabilities such as Anti-­Submarine Warfare (ASW), Anti-­Air Warfare (AAW) and surface warfare. These are always expensive options that set quality against quantity or mass and longer sustainability. This is particularly so with the advance of possibly transformational technology in the shape of hypersonic missiles, unmanned systems, distributed lethality around dispersed fleets of perhaps smaller vessels, artificial intelligence and so on. Second, the maintenance and development of nuclear deterrents at sea and the correspondingly enhanced need to protect oneself against them can be teased out of this set of traditional mission requirements partly because they take a very different form and partly because they apply only to a small but growing proportion of the world’s fleets. The existing nuclear powers seek to maintain and sustain their capabilities while newer ones like North Korea and possibly Iran seek to develop them whatever its consequence would be in the Gulf, the Western Pacific and the Indian Ocean. These and other advanced navies in Europe and the Indo-­Pacific also seek to extend their capacity to defend the fleet against air attack into regional Ballistic Missile Defence (BMD) systems. Third, all states wish to maintain good order in their own offshore estates, particularly when the resources they contain have become so important. Increasingly they also accept the need, if they can, to contribute to the away game as well, partly as a means of protecting domestic peace and prosperity against approaching threats and partly to have an influence on proceedings at a regional or global level. In an age when even non-­state actors like Yemen’s Houthi rebels can mount a serious challenge at sea,7 the inherent difficulty and potential hazard of such operations encourages nations and navies to develop higher-­end capabilities because that makes them more confident in their operation and less at potential risk. Fourth, quite apart from straight humanitarian considerations, there is ample evidence of the destabilising effects of disasters and catastrophic weather events that result in the fall of governments, the sudden widespread movement of affected people and the prospect of disease pandemics. Accordingly, it is no surprise that Humanitarian Assistance/Disaster Relief (HA/DR) operations figure increasingly strongly in the world’s more active navies, and that there are also clear incentives among them to develop the capacities of the largely inactive so that they too can play a bigger role. Fifth, it is all too easy for conventional sea-­going navies to forget the domestic role that many navies have in maintaining good order within the state, particularly by means of its rivers, lakes and estuaries. This is a major role for many of the navies of South America for example, where rivers remain the only way to bring relief to otherwise inaccessible areas that are often all too susceptible to penetration by terrorists, drugs smugglers and other types of criminal. Nor should we forget the possibility that such expertise can be exported, hence the

Small navies in the current strategic context  19 role of the Uruguayan Navy in maintaining riverine order in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

So, what does this mean for the world’s smaller navies? Trying to cope with such a broad range of contingency is difficult for all navies, irrespective of their size, whether they are: great, essentially global in their outlook; medium, if principally regional; or small, if preoccupied with local concerns. The balance they strike between these missions and the way in which they interpret them reflects the characteristics of the nations they seek to defend, characteristics which bear some passing resemblance to the elements of seapower identified by Mahan. One of the most important characteristics is the extent to which they see themselves as outward-­looking trading countries such as Singapore and Oman.8 The geographic location of both states, near key choke-­points but in Oman’s case with open access to the world ocean reinforces this sense of identity. But both, like Israel, also face neighbours that are much larger and which in the past have been troublesome, and so need to be guarded against. States next to large assertive powers like Russia, such as the Baltic and Scandinavian countries, generally have a much greater sense of threat than countries such as Ireland which are sheltered by their location. Some, like Belgium and the Netherlands, seek refuge in the company of others in such organisations as NATO and the EU. Others in similar strategic circumstances such as Finland accord a much higher priority to decisional sovereignty. Many of these attitudes can be attributed to accumulated experience and what some would call ‘strategic culture’.9 The extent to which the outside world is seen as a threat or an opportunity probably also reflects their economic, industrial and social strength and so to the extent to which they can invest in substantial defence. Many African states simply do not have the resources even to guard offshore riches in the way of fish, oil and gas, which if properly exploited would do much to compensate for their current economic difficulties. By contrast, Singapore is in a much stronger position than many of its neighbours, such as Indonesia and the Philippines, which though much larger are plagued with internal dissent, institutional weakness and political centrifugalism. Other states, like Colombia, Mexico, Peru and others in Central and South America, are, or have been, troubled with massive internal levels of threat from transnational criminal organisations that distract their navies from conventional roles on the open ocean, while providing them with demanding and distinctive domestic roles. Enough has been said to show that, both in the challenges they face and in the mixture of their responses, small navies are likely to be so individually unique in deciding and realising their operational priorities that only the loosest of generalisations can safely be made about their operational priorities or their strategic effect and consequence. Even so, some generic observations may aid understanding about the often inter-­related issues that many of them need to consider if indeed they want to be able to make a difference. The first is perhaps the most

20  Geoffrey Till obvious; it is that the size and nature of their fleets is more a consequence of their policy than a driver, although that size will necessarily help shape their responses to the subsequent issues they face since being small can bring its own perspectives and problems. Chief amongst these is usually the fundamental issue of how smaller navies can improve their chances of having strategic effect against their peers, but more ambitiously against stronger forces. In short, to have a reasonable prospect of success in seeking to matter, what particular issues do smaller navies have to consider? An obvious one is the familiar requirement to balance commitments against resources. Many navies, small ones included, have a severe and increasing problem here since when operating on the ‘can do’ principle, they end up with more politically directed tasks than their resources allow them to perform as they would wish. The developing shape of the navies of Europe illustrates the point that defence inflation outstrips all other forms of inflation and this is particularly evident in the procurement of high-­end ASW, AAW and anti-­surface warfare capabilities characteristic of sea control aspirations. The result is a series of fleets that are certainly capable but at the same time much smaller numerically.10 This reduction in mass also reduces the sustainability that in the past has often (though not always) proved key to success in sea control operations. Resorting to expedients such as reduced training and maintenance or more over-­use of the assets that are available is dangerous as the recent misadventures of the Aegis cruisers of the 7th Fleet or the loss of the Argentine submarine San Juan show all too clearly.11 Inadequate maintenance is a feature of many of the world’s small navies and clearly limits their strategic effectiveness, especially in Africa, in the performance, even of lower intensity taskings, such as maritime security operations. Recognition of this leads many smaller navies, not least in Europe, to conclude that coming together with others in collective security organisations like NATO and the EU may be a way of compensating for such deficiencies, but this is much less of a realistic option elsewhere, in South America or Southeast Asia for example, although in cooperative responses to piracy in the Straits of Malacca or the Sulu Sea, and more generally in the slow development of a military dimension to the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) we can possibly see glimmerings of this response.12 But, with togetherness necessarily comes constraint, because in order to survive, coalitions have to impose their own requirements, most obviously mutual trust, a willingness to allow others to perform tasks on your behalf, a readiness to perform tasks possibly more in the immediate interests of others than yourself and, finally, to lose in decisional sovereignty. Now that the concept of security has widened to take in so much more than the military defence of territory and people, the contribution of the military line of development has to be woven into all the others, political, economic, social and legal, in a properly integrated and mutually supportive way. Hybrid challenges require hybrid solutions. This requires accommodating the aspirations,

Small navies in the current strategic context  21 operating characteristics and procedures, bureaucratic needs, mentality and information-­sharing attitudes of other government agencies and non-­ governmental organisations, very possibly of other countries. This is far from easy, but the physical capabilities and campaign planning experience of navies should be useful for multi-­agency and perhaps multinational activities in addition to the basic provision of sufficient security in which other organisations can make their contributions. Indonesia is an example of a smaller navy seeking to develop just such an integrated approach in pursuit of President Widodo (Jocowi)’s aspirations to develop the country as a ‘maritime fulcrum’ but, in this, it is far from alone in having to deal with a host of bureaucratic and social ­difficulties that get in the way.13 Such expedients are unlikely to prevent smaller navies having to make choices, in setting their priorities, a problem especially acute when the gap between resources and commitments remains wide. The technologies and skill sets required of the varying missions outlined earlier can be very different and investment in one does not necessarily result in progress in another, indeed sometimes the opposite. The neglect of ASW and conventional amphibious capabilities among European navies during their involvement in the Iraq and Afghanistan wars is an obvious example of this. Another of the basic issues confronting navies of whatever size is the issue of the balance to be struck between focusing on the immediate dangers of the here and now on the one hand and tomorrow’s problems on the other. The tyranny of the immediate commitment and the pressing needs of the present, if only because it is here and real, as opposed to some distant and possibly hypothetical future, can lead to fatal underinvestment in the technologies and tasks of that future. On the other hand, focusing on the future could well mean having to accept ‘capability holidays’ now, which others could exploit. Their narrower margins in fleet size means that smaller navies are probably more susceptible to such troubles than larger ones. A particular example of this is the problem of preparing their people for a complex and unpredictable future. Everyone from Field Marshal von Moltke to Sir Michael Howard have made the point that, rather than try to train your people to get it right in the future, it is probably more important that they be able to adapt and respond efficiently when things go wrong. As Mike Tyson once graphically remarked, ‘Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.’14 Hence the need for serious investment in professional military education, something that is difficult for small navies to arrange cost-­effectively because of the relatively small number of people involved when compared to the costs of setting up the necessary infrastructure. Even the Professional Military Education (PME) programmes of larger navies can suffer when budgetary times are hard, not least because, as just discussed, the needs of the immediate present can prevail against projects that only deliver their payoff in what seems a remote future. The relative importance of the logistic tail in terms of the national defence industrial capacity to deliver the equipment they need to the military in a timely

22  Geoffrey Till manner and for the military to be able to get it to where it is needed, especially in times of unexpected contingency or conflict, emerges in countless reviews of past and recent experience. Thus, James Holland attributes the defeat of the Wehrmacht partly to defective command, but mainly to lack of the strategic wherewithal in raw materials, industrial capacity, a tendency to over-­engineer and a long failure in developing support infrastructure.15 Much the same has also been said about the Japanese in the Second World War. Navies have a role to play here, too, and not just in being a ‘smart customer,’ difficult though that is. The need independently to liaise with industry and to contribute to the formulation of the state’s policy towards the development of a sufficient industrial base is critically important. But this is especially difficult for smaller navies since they have fewer people and will usually start from further behind the standards of larger navies and have fewer opportunities for economies of scale. In the case of countries like Malaysia, the government’s desire to set up a sovereign defence industrial base can sometimes conflict with the navy’s desire to acquire the platforms it needs cheaply and quickly from established and experienced foreign suppliers. The experience of Canada, however, suggests that a conscious intent at the highest level to develop a national ship-­building strategy does pay off in the long run.16 Finally, all navies have to try to ‘future-­proof ’ their fleets as far as they can. The long lead-­times and operational lives of most naval platforms underline the need to tackle this problem. The level of this challenge will of course depend on the capacities of the putative adversary. If this is another smaller force, then the level of operational challenge would be the same as it would be for any other navy. It is more interesting though to consider the generic challenge faced by a small navy up against a larger one. On the face of it, smaller navies are at a disadvantage here as the larger ships characteristic of larger forces tend to have more built-­in space for growth and larger navies have greater resources to devote to technological innovation. However, for some small navies, technology when allied to commitment and an imaginative approach can come to the rescue. The fact that Russian Kalibr long-­range land attack cruise missiles were fired into Syria by small Buyuan-­M corvettes operating in the Eastern Mediterranean and the Caspian Sea shows that small warships these days can ‘pack a relatively greater punch’ than they used to.17 Norway’s Skjold Fast Attack Craft (FAC) and Sweden’s Visby corvettes are formidable craft in the unique topographical conditions for which they are designed and a tendency in the world’s smaller navies to invest in larger and more capable Offshore Patrol Vessels (OPV) suggests a tendency to adopt this kind of approach more widely.18 When this is added to the asymmetric tactics practised, for example, in the Sri Lankan Civil War or possibly by Ukraine,19 major strategic effect may be achieved even when the smaller forces are used in an offensive rather than defensive mode. The Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (the LTTE) developed a very effective, agile maritime wing – the so-­called Sea Tigers. Initially charged with bringing supplies and personnel over to the island from southern India, they rapidly

Small navies in the current strategic context  23 developed into a force that was capable of directly contesting sea control with Sri Lankan Naval (SLN) forces that were trying to patrol local waters in order to interdict LTTE shipments. Far from trying to avoid Sri Lankan warships, these were naval guerrillas seeking them out in a bid to control the sea through a strategy of ambush. Profiting from the financial support of the Tamil diaspora, the Sea Tigers invested in the production of small FACs that were often better equipped than their SLN targets, technologically and conceptually.20 They disguised and hid their boats among the great fleets of fishing boats that frequented the Palk Strait and Gulf of Mannar. They sought to isolate and sink individual SLN FAC on patrol in swarming attacks, often including suicide boats that were designed to ram and sink. The Sea Tigers even attacked the SLN in their own harbours. Shocked by this and its losses in patrol craft and personnel, the SLN first fell back on defensive methods that left the seas open to the Sea Tigers to bring in further fighters and weapons shipments and to a deteriorating situation in the critical land war. While, by sheer determination and an ability to improvise and adapt to an unconventional enemy displaying very innovative and effective tactics and weaponry, the SLN was able eventually to recover the situation, by investing in asymmetric tactics themselves and beating the Sea Tigers at their own game, the difficulties in dealing with such hybrid adversaries were manifest.21 In consequence, wise naval planners must seriously consider the possibility that the gap between large and small navies has narrowed and that the latter represent a much greater threat to the former than they used to. This may well be further sustained by access to the improved technologies of sea denial, when the smaller force is principally preparing for defensive rather than offensive operations. Some would argue that recent developments, technical, political and legal, have made sea denial, or A2/AD as it is now often called, much more effective against the aspirations for sea control and forward deployment entertained by larger fleets than it was before. In the Gulf, for example, the Iranian Republican Guard Navy, with its ideas about ‘distributed lethality’ and proclivity for the use of massed swarms of little boats against a few much larger targets that look suspiciously like US carriers, represent a level of threat to much larger US or Western forces that has to be taken seriously.22 In such circumstances, the nimble if weaker side can sometimes secure significant coups de theatre as in the case of the apprehension of a boarding party from HMS Cornwall in 2007 or two US Navy patrol boats in 2016 and to exercise a general deterrent effect.23 For smaller navies, however, the acquisition of small diesel-­powered coastal submarines is often said to be a particularly attractive way of reducing the operational gap they may have with stronger fleets.24 Such submarines are held to be effective force-­multipliers, able to hold the apparently stronger surface forces of a putative adversary in check and this has resulted in a noticeable trend in their acquisition, particularly in the Indo-­Pacific.25 This is not an easy option, however, for submarines are demanding vessels to operate and maintain, especially for navies that have not done so before; they

24  Geoffrey Till require an expensive supporting infrastructure and can usually only be acquired in small numbers, which reduces their operational availability. Canadian experience with the Upholder/Victoria class shows that reviving a submarine capability is demanding even for established and sophisticated navies, and the problems are much worse for those developing the capability for the first time.26 But, if properly inducted, there seems little doubt that, operating in their own near waters, they will at least complicate the calculus of stronger forces. Moreover, if all these technological possibilities are linked to effective strategies and encompassed in the political, legal and psychological framework envisioned by the ‘three warfares’ thinkers discussed earlier, smaller navies, in the right general context, could aspire to significant strategic effect even when confronting apparently much greater navies.

Notes   1 Vice-­Adm. Andrew L. Lewis, Commander 2nd Fleet cited in Susan McFarland ‘Navy relaunches Atlantic fleet to eye Russia’ UPI, 25 August 2018.   2 Troy Bouffard and Dr Andrea Charron, ‘A tale of Two Russias’ Vanguard 24, no. 4, August/September 2018.   3 Peter Pomersantsev, ‘How Putin is Reinventing Warfare’ Foreign Policy, 5 May 2014; Luke Harding, ‘The Skripal poisonings: the bungled assassination with the Kremlin’s fingerprints all over it’ Guardian, 26 December 2014.   4 Qiao Liang and Wang Xiangsui, Unrestricted Warfare (FBIS Translation (Beijing PLA Literature and Arts Publishing House, 1999).  5 Michiko Kakutani, The Death of Truth (London: William Collins, July 2018).   6 Pippa Crane et al., ‘Russia accused of cyber-­attack on chemical weapons watchdog’ Guardian, 5 October 2018.   7 Jeremy Binnie, ‘Yemeni rebels claim to have hit naval ship’ Jane’s Defence Weekly, 15 June 2018 and ‘Saudi large crude tankers diverted away from Red Sea’ Jane’s Defence Weekly, August 2018.   8 See, for example, Dr Khamis bin Salim Al-­Jabri, The Role of Sea Power in Oman’s Security and Economy (Cairo: Nabta Publishing, 2018) pp. 122–128, 132.   9 For this see: Victor Davis Hanson, Carnage and Culture (New York: Anchor Books, 2002). 10 Jeremy Stöhs, The Decline of European Naval Forces: Challenges to Sea Power in an Age of Fiscal Austerity and Political Uncertainty (Annapolis MD: Naval Institute Press, 2018). 11 Steve Grant and Charles Strathdee, ‘We are a Navy that Learns From Our Mistakes’ Warships, December 2017; Jose Higuera, ‘Constrained Capability’ Jane’s Defence Weekly, 20 June 2018. 12 About ADMM+: see https://admm.asean.org/.index.php/about.admm/about.admm_ plus.html. 13 I.G.B. Dharma Agastai, ‘3 Years later, Where is Indonesia’s “Global Maritime Fulcrum”?’ The Diplomat, 22 November 2017. 14 Quoted in Lawrence Freedman, Strategy: A History (New York: Oxford University Press, 2013), ix. 15 James Holland, The War in the West: the Allies Fight Back 1941–3. (London: Bantam Press, 2017); see also Max Hastings, All Hell Let Loose: The World at War 1939–45 (London: HarperPress, 2011) pp. 40–1, 99. 16 ‘NSS continues to revitalize B.C.’s shipbuilding industry’ and ‘Insights from Victoria Shipyards’ BS Shipping News, November 2018.

Small navies in the current strategic context  25 17 Eugene Gerden, ‘Corvettes & Frigates to form major strike force’ Warships, May 2018; Dr Lee Willett, ‘Punching up: Russia’s smaller surface fleet delivers a bigger impact’ Jane’s International Defence Review, January 2018. 18 Guy Torremans, ‘Mexico Pulls Many missions from a small package’ Warships, July 2017. 19 Guy Torremans, ‘Ukraine naval Boss Calls for “mosquito fleet” to counter Russia’ Warships, December 2017. 20 LTTE fast and light attack craft were armed with 12.7 mm machine guns and rocket launchers with reduced radar cross sections. 21 For this see: Jayanath Colombage, Asymmetric Warfare at Sea: The Case of Sri Lanka (Saarbrucken, Germany: Lambert Academic Publishing, 2015). Also, Molly Dunigan et al., Maritime Irregular Warfare (Santa Monica: RAND Corporation, 2012). 22 Dave Majumdar, ‘Navy Nightmare: Could Iran Sink a US Aircraft Carrier?’ The National Interest, 26 December 2018. 23 ‘The errors that let Iran seize 15 crew members’ Guardian, 20 June 2007; ‘Iran holds two US Navy boats’ Telegraph, 12 January 2016. 24 Kate Tringham and Richard Scott, ‘Underwater aspirations’ Jane’s Defence Weekly, 22 October 2018. 25 Geoffrey Till and Collin Koh Swee Lean, Naval Modernisation in Southeast Asia, Pt 2 Submarine Issues for Small and Medium Navies (London: Palgrave, Macmillan, 2018). 26 John Grevatt, ‘Manila considers Russian loan to support submarine buy’ Jane’s Defence Weekly, 22 August 2018.

3 Seapower and small navies A post-­modern outlook Basil Germond

Introduction In collective imaginaries, navies are constructed as ‘powerful’, ‘prestigious’ and ‘grand’. From the works of Dutch painters in the seventeenth century glorifying naval battles to the romantic literature of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries glorifying British seapower, artistic and literary representations of the navy have centred on big warships or armadas of ships in action.1 Whereas such representations highlight the historical heroism of navies and sailors, they also contribute to emphasising the primacy of ‘big navies’ when it comes to balance of power and fulfilling national interest and foreign and defence policy objectives.2 Assessed against the triangle of naval missions developed by Ken Booth and revisited by Eric Grove, ‘small navies’ appear to be lacking in scope and capacity (see Figure 3.1).3 Indeed, when it comes to military/combat missions (e.g. sea control, power projection) as well as diplomatic missions (e.g. forward presence), ‘small navies’ appear to be reduced to a limited and/or coastal role; and their main function seems to be limited to the constabulary one (e.g. policing territorial waters). This can be attributed to their lack of ocean-­going capabilities and firepower, the limited number and size of platforms, as well as the resulting lack of operational experience and even maritime culture. The constabulary function has traditionally been considered in a rather negative or contemptuous way by navies themselves.4 Although this perception has recently started to change, this has

Diplomatic functions

Constabulary functions

Military functions

Figure 3.1  Triangle of naval missions. Source: c.f. footnote 3.

Seapower and small navies  27 nevertheless contributed to representing ‘small navies’ in a derogatory way relative to the prestigious ‘big navies’ engaged in naval battles or power projection. Against this background, the aim of this chapter is to revisit this ‘misfortune of small navies’ by framing the analysis within the concept of seapower rather than naval missions, with the aim to show that ‘small navies’ can actually be depositories of seapower, albeit not exactly in the same form as ‘big navies’. First, this chapter will show that the traditional conception of seapower has contributed to a naval pecking order placing ‘small navies’ at the bottom of the hierarchy. Second, it will demonstrate that post-­ modern seapower must be understood as a collective form of power and governance that extends far beyond naval/military considerations. Within this context, a naval hierarchy along a ‘big’/’small’ binary loses relevance both as an indicator of seapower and as a way to represent navies in the twenty-­first century.

Seapower, hierarchies and small navies The Mahanian conception still dominates narratives on seapower. Mahan advocated seapower as a way to positively ‘exercise effects […] upon the welfare of the people’.5 Accordingly, states shall aim at developing a ‘powerful navy’, which is instrumental in gaining command of the sea and protecting maritime trade. In other words, seapower rests on ‘the connection between a flourishing maritime trade that generates the nation’s wealth and a powerful navy to protect it’.6 Such a conception has informed generations of decision-­ makers who engaged their country in navalist policies, from Theodore Roosevelt’s US to Sergei Gorshkov’s Soviet Navy to China in the twenty-­first century.7 Beyond Mahanian navalist policies, navies must indeed be understood as the main vector of seapower, at least in its naval acceptation. During the Cold War, the East–West arms race had an important naval component, which has led to the adoption of ‘big to be powerful’ narratives, e.g. balanced fleet; 600-ship navy.8 With the end of the Cold War, the traditional mission consisting in gaining command of the sea (potentially following a decisive naval battle) has lost prominence in favour of an emphasis put on exercising command in the form of power projection, which de facto became the ‘grand’ mission of navies.9 Since the 1991 Gulf War, the media representation of war has contributed to certain images gaining an ‘iconic’ status, such as green nightscape or missiles fired from ships.10 This glorification of power projection missions via visual representations has in turn strengthened the primacy of ‘big navies’ in collective imaginaries. All of the above has contributed to the establishment and consolidation of a naval pecking order; a process of ‘othering’ (i.e. big versus small), or in other words a hierarchisation of navies.11 Such a categorisation proceeds from a classical syllogism: (1) ‘Big navies’ are powerful whereas ‘small navies’ are less powerful, (2) It is better to be powerful, so (3) ‘Big navies’ are better than ‘small navies’. In this process, what counts seems to be the position of each navy relative to others, rather than each navy’s individual capacities judged against their

28  Basil Germond state’s needs and defence objectives. Quantitative indicators, such as order of battle, naval budget and manpower, and qualitative indicators, such as global reach, endurance and ‘order of effects’12 contribute to such a hierarchisation. It is always possible to move up (or down) the hierarchical ladder, but the naval pecking order has actually not evolved a lot since the end of the Second World War, with the US topping the league tables, followed by Russia/USSR, the UK and France.13 At the top of the hierarchy, China’s growing naval capability is probably the most striking evolution of the past decades. The outcome of such a representation and categorisation is that ‘big navies’ are the depository of seapower (understood as naval power) and can exert it, whereas ‘small navies’ are seemingly destined to live in the shadow of ‘big navies’ and to remain footnotes in (naval) history. ‘Small navies’ can overcome their ‘misfortune’ by participating in multinational coalition operations or exercises. This has become one of the main if not the primary objective of many ‘small navies’. In the Irish 2011–2014 Strategy Statement, the ability to operate with ‘like-­minded states’ had even been labelled as a key performance indicator of the armed forces.14 The participation of Canada’s HMCS Charlottetown in NATO operations against Gadhafi’s Libya in 2011 has been praised in both media and official documents for it was the first time since the Korean War that the Canadian Navy had been under enemy fire.15 Often, small navies’ material contribution to such coalition operations remains very limited, but the symbolic effort is nonetheless valuable: to ‘express solidarity with our friends’.16 Small navies can thus exercise a form of extrinsic power by being ‘part of the great game’, not in terms of intrinsic contribution but by the mere fact that they ‘are there’, in operation, which sends two different but related political messages: to allies ‘you can count on us’ and to domestic and third-­ party audiences ‘we can do it’. From a capacity-­building perspective, participating in multinational naval operations constitutes a real opportunity to ‘learn by doing’, to test interoperability standards and to drill joint/combined procedures in operational conditions. Also, being part of standing coalitions or forces, in particular within NATO, allows small countries to be part of the process of setting up the rules of the game at sea, to ‘have a voice’,17 albeit without a strong power of influence within the coalition itself. However, this strategy is not without potential downsides. There is a risk of ‘entrapment’, meaning that small navies can be dragged into participating in operations that have been decided by, and that are primarily in the interest of, other big powers.18 There is also a risk of role specialisation (e.g. Baltic navies with mine countermeasures), which may be achieved at the expense of other useful capabilities; this is all the more important given the volatile post-­Cold War security context that requires naval forces to operate in various environments and at various scales and to engage in several crises at a time, which makes naval planning more difficult for states with limited resources.19 Small navies may also become dependent on senior partners in terms of critical information sharing, especially in the context of network-­centric warfare;20 in other words, interoperability is not only a technical challenge, it is also about

Seapower and small navies  29 ‘political will’. Even if those risks and issues are eventually minimal, ‘small navies’ cannot be said to exercise substantial naval power and authority when participating in multilateral naval operations as junior partners and thus this does not modify the perception discussed above that they are not depository of seapower understood as naval power. 21

Post-­modern seapower and small navies The dominant Mahanian conception of seapower is framed within a political realist, modern understanding of security, where the referent objects are states and their agents, in particular military forces including navies. With the expansion of the security agenda following the end of the Cold War, seapower has stopped being primarily, or at least exclusively, associated with naval power. Indeed, the growing importance placed on non-­state actors and transnational threats has led seapower to adopt a post-­Mahanian, post-­modern outlook.22 This conception is less state-­centric and less biased towards the military dimension of seapower. There is indeed an overlooked form of non-­military seapower, which is about maintaining good order at sea and stabilising the liberal world order in the maritime domain. Ocean governance aims to steward marine resources and organise maritime spaces in a way that enables various state and non-­state stakeholders to operate under optimal conditions, which also include maritime security operations. This necessitates regulating, organising and monitoring human activities and flows of goods and people at or from the sea, and responding to forms of criminality that include illegal fishing, piracy, drug and arms smuggling and human trafficking. Given the nature of the maritime domain, which is a space that, unlike the land, cannot be occupied or even owned,23 is hard to monitor and transnational by nature with fuzzy borders, ocean governance and maritime security require international, transnational and multilevel cooperation, leading to a form of collective seapower. Post-­modern seapower implies a territorialisation of the sea via marine spatial planning, maritime surveillance, zonation etc. Such a stabilisation of the liberal world order at sea requires multinational cooperation at various levels much beyond naval considerations. Geoffrey Till claimed that seapower is relative ‘since some countries have more than others’.24 Whereas this reflects the modern understanding of seapower, the argument here is that seapower can now be absolute when it comes to ocean governance and stabilisation/maritime security. It can indeed be enacted in a joint way and the benefits of its enactment can be shared and are not mutually exclusive. In other words, the enactment and consequences (or outputs in Till’s words25) of post-­ modern seapower is not framed within a zero-­sum game. Various state and non-­ state stakeholders contribute to this form of post-­modern seapower and benefit from it in very different ways and not in equal shares. For example, efforts to limit piracy at the Horn of Africa have cost and benefited Western states, international shipping companies, regional states and local communities in a very different way.26

30   Basil Germond Within this post-­modern framework, the position and role of ‘small navies’ are very different: their constabulary function, which consists in policing the sea to monitor and repress illegal activities within and beyond territorial waters, is valued, not only at a national level but at the global level too. When in the mid-­ noughties the US launched the concept of 1000-ship navy, it was based on the realisation that it was not possible to stabilise and control the maritime domain without the positive participation of every possible state and relevant private stakeholder sharing similar objectives.27 This clearly includes ‘small navies’. Whereas the concept, which was rebranded Global Maritime Partnership, encountered some negative feedback,28 this is nonetheless a demonstration of the need to account for the existence of a non-­Mahanian form of seapower along with the more traditional, naval one. Post-­modern seapower does not require every participating state and stakeholder to think and be the same, nor to share similar international politics objectives. It is best understood within the concept and practice of a pluralistic international society, developed by scholars of the English School of International Relations to describe the existence of a society of states, which share the common desire to maintain a certain degree of order, stability and certainty within the international system without systematically sharing similar values and identities.29 At sea, this translates into a common belief in the freedom of the seas and in the need to maintain a reasonable level of order and security in the maritime domain so as to benefit from the advantages that freedom of the seas grants states and economic agents. Post-­modern seapower is thus inherently liberal, but a form of liberalism that is limited in scope and ambition and constrained by domestic considerations. For example, the ongoing migrant crisis in the Mediterranean illustrates the importance for states to devote enough resources to constabulary missions, for which ‘small navies’ or coastguards are well prepared. Interestingly, the current issues with the management of the crisis show that when not enough resources are devoted to ocean governance, then the non-­governmental sector steps in, as illustrated by the involvement of private/NGO rescue vessels.30 An interesting example beyond Europe and NATO members is the case of Singapore; a small country that depends on the freedom of the seas for its economic performance and thus understands that it needs to be integrated within the global effort to secure the seas,31 since it will eventually benefit from it as well: [The Republic of Singapore Navy forms] a vanguard against sea robberies, piracy, terrorism and unwanted incursions […]. We are not just a fighting force […]. We sail across the seas, exercising with other navies and visit foreign ports. We take part in international operations for peace support, humanitarian assistance and disaster relief. By co-­ operating with like-­ minded nations and being a responsible member of the international community, the RSN is able to not just defend our nation’s every day, but also the world’s every day.32 This quotation epitomises the collective form of seapower discussed above, where every stakeholder, whatever their size and capabilities, are in a position to

Seapower and small navies  31 contribute to the global effort to secure the seas, knowing that the stabilisation of the global liberal order at sea is in their best interest in absolute if not in relative terms. In another example, the Royal New Zealand Navy’s participation in multinational operations aiming at securing sea lanes of communications, such as NATO counter-­piracy operation Ocean Shield at the Horn of Africa, has been described as a contribution to the country’s ‘role as a good global citizen’.33 Since New Zealand is itself strongly dependent on the sea and ‘has one of the largest exclusive economic zones in the world’34 (prone to forms of illegal, unreported and unregulated fishing), this also illustrates the non-­zero sum nature of post-­modern seapower. This does not mean that in the context of global ocean governance states always act in a purely benevolent way; participation (or indeed non-­participation) in global maritime security efforts may well proceed from domestic political considerations or be linked to specific power maximisation interests.35 In other words, the existence of a collective form of seapower does not imply that enacting it is the default policy option. If an issue is deemed sensitive in terms of national interest, including commercial interests, then global ocean governance may not be chosen as the preferred option, whereas the management of low-­ politics and benign issues is less likely to generate negative reactions. Similarly, bureaucracies, such as navies, may be reluctant to share information especially in the case of sensitive data and of civilian-­military cooperation, with explanatory factors ranging from mistrust over motives and policy interests, to bureaucratic competition/self-­interest, to divergent organisational culture, to fear that new cooperative arrangements may jeopardise previous investments, to fear of dependency, exploitation and even survival.36 Mitchell stresses that ‘policy barriers hinder allies, even close ones, from sharing information with each other transparently’.37 It is also important to understand that the current main global maritime security cooperation initiatives are often de facto led by the US Navy. Consequently, the willingness or reluctance to engage in such forms of cooperation depends on an individual state’s and navy’s perception of the US power and goals in relation to their own interests, objectives and strategic realities.38

Conclusion Post-­modern seapower is conceived as a collective effort with shared benefits, rather than a zero-­sum game. Ocean governance and maritime security are key elements of post-­ modern seapower, since they necessitate collective action aiming at controlling the maritime domain. ‘Small navies’ are depository of post-­modern seapower understood in its non-­state centric, collective and absolute acceptation. They constitute a useful and integral part of the effort to project security, stability, order and norms beyond one’s external boundary/territorial waters, in a bid to control the flows of goods and people across the maritime domain. Even though collective seapower is by no means the default policy option and is but one form of maritime power along with more traditional,

32  Basil Germond modern, naval power, a hierarchy along binary oppositions has lost relevance as an indicator of seapower and as a way to accurately represent navies in the twenty-­first century context. The implications for seapower studies are twofold: a) scholars interested in seapower are encouraged to think beyond naval missions and material capabilities; seapower is not restricted to naval power or to the protection of maritime trade and navies are not limited to being vectors of naval power; b) more attention shall be placed on civilian aspects of seapower, and there is a collective dimension of seapower that shall not be neglected. In sum, post-­modern seapower is collective, mostly liberal and not state-­centric; it is focused on the governance of the maritime domain. There are also implications for the study of ‘small navies’. This chapter has shown that ‘small navies’ are undeniably relevant naval agents to study, beyond naval multilateralism and naval coalition operations. Wartime operations or military interventions do not operationally require the participation of ‘small navies’ beyond the political or symbolic element of it. However, contributing to maritime security in particular and ocean governance in general, which is a peacetime task, constitutes an important contribution to stability and order at sea, one that requires every state and concerned stakeholder to participate at various scales. In other words, the agency of ‘small navies’ in global ocean governance shall not be neglected. Small navies remain ‘small’, but they are ‘powerful’ in that they exert and benefit from seapower in its collective, post-­modern acceptation.

Notes  1 Samuel Baker, Written on the Water: British Romanticism and the Maritime Empire of Culture (Charlottesville and London: University of Virginia Press, 2010); Tricia Cusack, ‘Introduction: Framing the ocean, 1700 to the present: envisaging the sea as social space’ in Framing the Ocean, 1700 to the Present, Envisaging the Sea as Social Space, ed. Tricia Cusack (Farnham: Ashgate, 2014); John C. Mack, The Sea: A Cultural History (London: Reaktion, 2011), 1–22.   2 For a critical discussion of the definition of ‘big’ and ‘small’ navies, see Geoffrey Till ‘Are Small Navies Different?’ in Small Navies, eds. Michael Mulqueen, Deborah Sanders and Ian Speller (Farnham: Ashgate – Corbett Centre for Maritime Policy Studies Series, 2014), 21–31.  3 Ken Booth, Navies and Foreign Policy (New York: Holmes & Meier Publishers, 1979), 15–25; Eric Grove, The Future of Sea Power (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1990), 234.   4 Michel d’Oléon, ‘Policing the Seas: The Way Ahead’ in The Role of European Naval Forces after the Cold War, ed. Gert de Nooy (The Hague, London, Boston: Kluwer Law International, 1996), 143.   5 Alfred Thayer Mahan, The Influence of Sea Power Upon History, 1660–1783 (New York: Cosimo Classics, 2007), 89, original edition (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-­Hall, 1890).  6 Basil Germond, The Maritime Dimension of European Security: Seapower and the European Union (London and New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015), 5.   7 Sergueï Georgi Gorshkov, The Sea Power of the State, 1st edn (Oxford: Pergamon Press, 1979, original edition Moscow: Voenizdat, 1976); James R. Holmes and Toshi

Seapower and small navies  33 Yoshihara, Chinese Naval Strategy: The Turn to Mahan (Abingdon: Routledge, 2008); Peter Karsten, ‘The Nature of “Influence”: Roosevelt, Mahan and the Concept of Sea Power’ Amer­ican Quarterly 23, no. 4 (1971): 585–600; Kevin Rowlands, ed. 21st Century Gorshkov: The Challenge of Sea Power in the Modern Era (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2017).   8 On the 600-ship Navy, see John B. Hattendorf, ed. The Evolution of the U.S. Navy’s Maritime Strategy, 1977–1986 (Newport RI: Naval War College Newport Papers no. 19, 2004).  9 Germond, The Maritime Dimension of European Security, 51–72. 10 Andrew Hoskins, Televising War: From Vietnam to Iraq (London and New York: Continuum, 2004), 23–27, 30. 11 Basil Germond, ‘Small Navies in Perspective: Deconstructing the Hierarchy of Naval Forces’ in Small Navies eds. Mulqueen et al. (Farnham: Ashgate – Corbett Centre for Maritime Policy Studies Series, 2014), 33–50; see also Captain (N) L.M. Hickey, ‘Enhancing the Naval Mandate for Law Enforcement: Hot Pursuit or Hot Potato?’ Canadian Military Journal 7, no. 1 (2006): 46; Aaron P. Jackson, ‘Keystone Doctrine Development in Five Commonwealth Navies: A Comparative Perspective’ Papers in Australian Maritime Affairs 33 (2010): 12; Harold J. Kearsley, Maritime Power and the Twenty-­First Century, (Aldershot: Dartmouth Publishing Co. Ltd., 1992), 175 quoted in Michael S. Lindberg, Geographical Impact on Coastal Defence Navies (Basingstoke Macmillan, 1998), 32. 12 See Julian Lindley-­French and Wouter van Straten, ‘Exploiting the Value of Small Navies: The Experience of the Royal Netherlands Navy’ The RUSI Journal 153, no. 6 (2008): 67. 13 For a quantitative comparison of naval forces since 1961, see The Military Balance (London: International Institute for Strategic Studies (published yearly); for a league table comparison demonstrating a certain inertia of the hierarchy, compare Eric Grove, The Future of Sea Power (Annapolis MD: Naval Institute Press, 1990), 236–240 with Eric Grove, ‘The Ranking of Smaller Navies Revisited’ in Small Navies, eds. Mulqueen et al. (Farnham: Ashgate – Corbett Centre for Maritime Policy Studies Series, 2014), 15–20. 14 Department of Defence Ireland, Strategy Statement 2011–2014 (Co. Kildare: DoD, 2011), 33. 15 For example, see ‘Canada’s military contribution in Libya’ CBC News, 20 October 2011, www.cbc.ca/news/world/canada-­s-military-­contribution-in-­libya-1.996755 (accessed 25 June 2018); Peter Pigott, ‘Taking a stand: inside Operation Mobile’ Wings, 21 January 2012, www.wingsmagazine.com/operations/taking-­a-stand-­insideoperation-­mobile-6498 (accessed 25 June 2018); National Defence and the Canadian Armed Forces, ‘ARCHIVED – Operation MOBILE’ last modified 22 January 2014, www.forces.gc.ca/en/operations-­abroad-past/op-­mobile.page (accessed 25 June 2018); interestingly, the Wikipedia page for Operation Mobile even states that this operation constitutes Canada’s first ‘naval battle’ since the Korean War, accessed 25 June 2018, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Mobile. 16 Royal Canadian Navy, ‘Leadmark 2050: Canada in a New Maritime World’ (2017, accessed 25 June 2018), 13, http://navy-­marine.forces.gc.ca/assets/NAVY_Internet/ docs/en/analysis/rcn-­leadmark-2050_march-­2017.pdf. 17 Philippe Lagassé, ‘Specialization and the Canadian forces’ Defence and Peace Economics 16, no. 3, (2005): 210. 18 On entrapment, see Glenn H. Snyder, ‘The Security Dilemma in Alliance Politics’ World Politics 36, no. 4 (1984): 461–495; for a critical discussion, see Tongfi Kim, ‘Why Alliances Entangle But Seldom Entrap States’ Security Studies 20, no. 3 (2011): 350–77. 19 Norman Friedman, ‘Transformation and Technology for Medium Navies’ Canadian Naval Review 2, no. 2, (2006): 5–11.

34  Basil Germond 20 Paul T. Mitchell, ‘Small navies and network-­centric warfare: Is there a role’ Naval War College Review 56, no. 2 (2003): 83–99. 21 Kenneth Gause, Catherine Lea, Daniel Whiteneck and Eric Thompson, ‘U.S. Navy Interoperability with its High-­End Allies’ Center for Strategic Studies, Center for Naval Analyses, 2000, www.dtic.mil/dtic/tr/fulltext/u2/a468332.pdf (accessed 10 September 2018); see also Paul T. Mitchell, ‘International Anarchy and Military Cooperation’ The Adelphi Papers 46, no. 385 (2006): 45–52. 22 For pioneering discussions of such a move, see Michael Pugh, ‘Is Mahan Still Alive? State Naval Power in the International System’ The Journal of Conflict Studies 16, no.  2 (1996): 109–23; Geoffrey Till, ‘Maritime Strategy in a Globalizing World’ Orbis 51, no. 4 (2007): 569–575. 23 On the debate about the ownership of the seas, see Monica Brito Vieira, ‘Mare Liberum vs. Mare Clausum: Grotius, Freitas, and Selden’s Debate on Dominion over the Seas’ Journal of the History of Ideas 64, no. 3 (2003): 361–77. 24 Geoffrey Till, Seapower: A guide for the 21st century (4th edn Abingdon, UK: Routledge 2018), 4. 25 Till, Seapower, 4–6. 26 On the economics of piracy and counter-­piracy, see Giacomo Morabito, ‘Maritime Piracy: Beyond Economic Concerns and Private Business Interests’ Georgetown Journal of International Affairs 18, no. 1 (2017): 43–46; Anja Shortland, ‘Dangers of Success: The Economics of Somali Piracy’ in Militarised Responses to Transnational Organised Crime, eds. Tuesday Reitano, Sasha Jesperson and Lucia Bird Ruiz-­ Benitez de Lugo (Cham: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018), 169–185. 27 See, for example, Admiral Michael Mullen, ‘What I Believe: Eight Tenets That Guide My Vision for the 21st Century Navy’ US Naval Institute Proceedings 132, no. 1 (2006, online version). 28 Geoffrey Till, ‘ “A Cooperative Strategy for 21st Century Seapower”: A View from Outside’ Naval War College Review 61, no. 2 (2008), 25–38. 29 Hedley Bull, The Anarchical Society: A study of order in world politics (London: Macmillan, 1977, reprinted 1995). 30 On the growing importance of non-­governmental providers of SAR services, see Eugenio Cusumano, ‘Emptying the sea with a spoon? Non-­governmental providers of migrants search and rescue in the Mediterranean’ Marine Policy 75 (2017): 91–98. 31 Joshua Ho, ‘Singapore and sea power’ in Sea Power and the Asia-­Pacific: The Triumph of Neptune?, eds. Geoffrey Till and Patrick Bratton (London: Routledge, 2012), 130–143. 32 Republic of Singapore Navy, ‘Our Mission’ www.mindef.gov.sg/oms/navy/Our_ Mission.HTM (accessed 6 July 2018). 33 Steven Paget, ‘The “best small nation navy in the world”? The twenty-­first century Royal New Zealand Navy’ Australian Journal of Maritime & Ocean Affairs 8, no. 3 (2016): 240. 34 Paget, ‘The “best small nation navy in the world”?’ 230. 35 Basil Germond and Michael E. Smith, ‘Re-­thinking European security interests and the ESDP: Explaining the EU’s anti-­piracy operation’ Contemporary Security Policy 30, no. 3 (2009): 573–93. 36 Graham T. Allison, Essence of Decision: Explaining the Cuban Missile Crisis (Boston: Little Brown, 1971); Kevin Buterbaugh, ‘Making Trust or Breaking Trust: Cooperation and Conflict Between Organizations – The Case of the Active Services and National Guard’ Southeastern Political Review 27, no. 1 (1999): 129–150; Björn Fägersten, ‘Bureaucratic Resistance to International Intelligence Cooperation – The Case of Europol’ Intelligence and National Security 25, no. 4 (2010): 500–520; Hugo Slim, ‘Special Issue: Beyond the Emergency: Development within UN Peace Missions’ International Peacekeeping 3, no.  2 (1996): 123–140; James I. Walsh, ‘Intelligence-­Sharing in the European Union: Institutions Are Not Enough’ Journal of

Seapower and small navies  35 Common Market Studies 44, no.  3 (2006): 625–643; Naomi Weinberger, ‘Civil-­ military coordination in peacebuilding: The Challenge in Afghanistan’ Journal of International Affairs 55, no. 2 (2002): 245–274. 37 Mitchell, ‘International Anarchy and Military Cooperation’ 46. 38 Geoffrey Till, ‘The New U.S. Maritime Strategy: Another View from Outside’ Naval War College Review 68, no. 4 (2015): 34–45.

4 Special effects Force multipliers and small navies Andrew Mallia and Chris Xuereb

Introduction Navies are at the forefront of the maritime aspirations of any coastal state. Those aspirations vary in scope: some states view the full extent of the global maritime commons as their area of interest, others have a more limited view, concentrating their efforts on those waters immediately adjacent to their coasts. These varying levels of ambition in turn tend to shape the navies that coastal states establish to protect their interests and exercise their influence. More limited ambition tends to result in more limited, or small, navies. Yet all navies, regardless of their size or the scope of responsibilities with which they are charged, face some common challenges. Perhaps the most notable of these is an insufficiency of resources. Whether it is the US Secretary of the Navy emphasising the need to build capacity or, at the other end of the spectrum, the Armed Forces of Malta hard-­pressed to meet their maritime commitments, it appears that no navy has a surfeit of capability.1 This chapter examines one possible mechanism to enhance available capabilities, namely the concept of force multipliers. It does so with specific reference to small navies on the basis that, being already limited in size, such navies have far more to gain than their larger counterparts. It begins by defining small navies and analysing the specific challenges that they face before going on to define and introduce the concept of force multipliers. By examining academic studies, real-­ world cases and documented findings, the authors will attempt to evaluate the applicability and potential impacts of the force multiplier concept.

What is a small navy? What defines the size of a navy? Is it defined in terms of the number of ships and personnel available? The capabilities that it is able to generate and bring to bear? Or is it a question of the geographical space in which a navy is able to operate and bring its capabilities to bear? What appears to be a relatively straightforward question is, in reality, rather challenging to answer. It could be contended that the definition of a ‘small navy’ is rather elusive. Given the wide variations in the roles, organisational concept, the technical means and institutional performance,

Special effects: force multipliers and small navies  37 it seems more likely that a range of navies can be classified as small whilst still being significantly different. Therefore, smallness, for navies, rests along continuum; there exists no single defined state of what a small navy is but, in this case, there are varying degrees of smallness. Morgan argues that a small navy is one which does not possess in its inventory ships that are able to project force in open seas. He continues by classifying them as navies that do not possess ‘… operational nuclear submarines, aircraft carriers, cruisers or large amphibious vessels  …’ that are capable of operating globally.2 This definition elicits the notion that the US Navy may be the only large navy in existence as it does possess force projection vessels and it can truly operate on a global scale.3 Other navies, such as the Royal Navy, French Navy, Russian and Chinese navies, do possess similar assets, but in limited numbers.4 However, as per Morgan’s logic, they cannot be defined as large navies as they are ‘unable’ to deploy permanently on the global stage due to their limited global-­reach power projection capabilities.5 This suggests that Morgan’s definition of a small navy is very narrow in scope. Others, such as Grove, Till, as well as Todd and Lindberg, provide a broader definition of what a navy is. 6 In their works they present a global hierarchy of navies that is essentially a continuum with the most capable navies on one side of the spectrum and the least capable on the other. Todd and Lindberg, as cited by Kirchberger, categorise navies under ten distinct classifications ranging from the ‘Global-­Reach power projection’ to the ‘Token navies riverine’.7 Likewise, Grove came up with a very similar hierarchy of navies in which he frames nine different ranks of navies of which four are reserved for those fleets with a generic ‘small’ descriptor. These range from ‘adjacent force protection navies’ through to ‘offshore and inshore territorial defence’ to ‘constabulary navies’. Below this range of small navies sit the ‘token navies’, an unenviable moniker best avoided.8 Contrary to Todd and Lindberg, whose classification focuses solely on the power projection capabilities, Grove proposes a more nuanced taxonomy based on their range of capabilities both in scope and geographical footprint. Starting from this premise, it would be useful, at this point, to identify those capability gaps or shortfalls commonly encountered by small navies.

Challenges for small navies Geoffrey Till argues that the fundamental differences between a small and a large navy are nominal; in fact he states that the difference is ‘more of a matter of degree than of kind’.9 Therefore, there are certain shortfalls faced by large navies that are also encountered by small navies, the difference being the magnitude of the problem and the effect that such challenges exert on the operational capability of the navy. Consequently, one may argue that the smaller the navy the bigger the problem may seem.10 Although this is true, there are issues that are symptomatic and specific to small navies; this chapter will continue by highlighting and examining some of these small-­navy-centric issues.

38  Andrew Mallia and Chris Xuereb Persistence and redundancy The most obvious shortfall is persistence and redundancy. Small navies not only encounter limitations on the quality of the capabilities that they can bring to the game, but they also struggle to project these in a persistent and consistent manner. These difficulties are the result of a limited number of assets and aging fleets as well as generally smaller assets that are less able to deal with environmental influences. Also stemming from these restrictions is a difficulty in generating adequate maritime domain awareness due to limited sensor platforms. A case in point is the Seychelles, an archipelagic state encompassing more than 100 small islands that claims an Economic Exclusive Zone (EEZ) of around 1.3 million square kilometres. As with the case of all small islands or groups of islands, it is highly dependent on imported goods. Thus, the securing of the Sea Lines of Communications (SLOCs) that crisscross the western Indian Ocean is of vital importance.11 To police and surveil its EEZ whilst at the same time securing its maritime trade routes, it relies on the Seychelles Coast Guard’s six large patrol boats that vary from 30 to 46 metres in length.12 All of its assets have been donated by friendly nations such as India, the United Arab Emirates and China, with the exception of the PS Andromach which was ordered by the Seychelles government and commissioned in 1983.13 With this limited number of patrol boats, the Seychelles Coast Guard, supported by a small number of maritime surveillance aircraft, has to secure and monitor an area which is equivalent to almost two-­thirds of the Mediterranean Sea. With their restricted number of assets and capabilities it is quite understandable that they are unable to be constantly present in every corner of their EEZ and therefore unable to have full Maritime Domain Awareness (MDA) of their area of operations. Nonetheless, it must be stated that even though the Seychelles Coast Guard lacks capacities to police and surveil its EEZ it has had a number of successes in the recent past with the release of pirated vessels and counter narcotics operations.14 Although the specific example of the Seychelles Coast Guard has been highlighted, it must be noted that there is a plethora of other small navies (or coastguards) which have very similar issues. Procurement and logistics From a procurement and logistics perspective, small navies suffer from their inability to deliver economies of scale. Capital procurement of platforms and systems attract higher unit prices due to the small volumes being procured. In extreme cases, such small volumes can even result in situations where procurement activities fail to evince the interest of large prime contractors as it would not be cost effective to them to allocate resources to small projects which would only generate a limited yield. In fact, Davis and Layton and Rudd argue that buying naval platforms on an off-­the-shelf basis delivers a number of benefits which may include:

Special effects: force multipliers and small navies  39 a b c d e

timely delivery reduced development costs economies of scale large use of platform will identify design flaws and upgrades would be available existing design provides for better budgeting vis-­à-vis initial costs.15

A similar situation can be encountered in the course of sustainment activities, with the small scope of supply and sustainment contracts resulting in elevated costs and uncertain support. The most obvious effect of such limitations is lower operational readiness. The Royal Canadian Navy Arctic Offshore Patrol Ship (AOPS) can be cited as an example here. This OPV, although based on the Norwegian Coast Guard KV Svalbard, was specifically and significantly modified for the Royal Canadian Navy (RCN), thereby attracting the associated risks involved when embarking on ‘first of class design and construction’ projects.16 Although the AOPS project was affected by a number of problems that are out of the scope of this paper, Huebert argues that due to escalating costs related to this project the RCN had to reduce the number of ships from eight to six; thereby sacrificing persistence and redundancy. Notwithstanding, the RCN may end up procuring only five if it is not guaranteed that the sixth ship’s costs are not programmed within the project budget originally approved.17 Legal regime The challenges facing small navies have been exacerbated by a legal regime that, over the past 30 years, has permitted states to extend their maritime claims even further offshore. Simultaneously, the importance of the resources within these maritime areas to the economic wellbeing of states has also increased in relative terms. While such claims have expanded significantly, the size of the states making these claims has not and nor have naval resources been expanded in lockstep. A case in point is Malta, a small archipelago of islands with a population of around 470,000 and a landmass of 122 square miles. It claims a continental shelf of over 30,000 square miles, just over 245 times the land mass of Malta. According to UNCLOS Article 77, Malta can exercise sovereign rights over its continental shelf ‘for the purpose of exploring and exploiting its natural resources’.18 The rights afforded by UNCLOS over the continental shelf necessitate presence by a naval element of the state so as to safeguard its sovereign rights over the maritime territory claimed. In order to protect its maritime claims, the Armed Forces of Malta’s Maritime Squadron, out of its fleet of 15 patrol boats, has only two OPVs capable of performing such a task over an extended period of time. The Republic of Ireland presents a similar case as, since 1994, it claims an EEZ that is ten times its land mass and which the Irish Naval Service is tasked to patrol to protect the resources claimed from unregulated or illegal exploitation.19

40  Andrew Mallia and Chris Xuereb These maritime spaces are exposing small navies to more challenging operating conditions than was hitherto the case. Thus, while all navies are now faced with the reality of doing more with less, this is probably felt most keenly by small navies. Global interdependence Overstretching also results from the ever-­increasing trend of global interdependence. Where historically small states had corresponding limited external interests, now the smallest of states can be a maritime superpower on the basis of trade, shipping activities, strategic geographic positioning or dependence of SLOCs. Malta can be considered as such a case, geographically it lies in the centre of the Mediterranean along one of the major SLOCs. It has one of the most important container terminals in the southern Mediterranean, which handles over three million Twenty Foot Equivalent Units (TEU) every year.20 Another important maritime economic driver for Malta is the cruise liner tourism sector. In 2017, a total of 342 cruise liners, carrying over 600,000 passengers, conducted scheduled stops on the island. In addition, Malta has the largest shipping register in the European Union.21 Therefore, despite its size, Malta can be considered as a maritime superpower from a trade and commercial perspective. Although naval leaders continuously lament the degree of sea-­blindness of governments and populations, the reality is that many states owe their continued stability to the wellbeing of the oceans. When faced with all these challenges, one might ask whether there is a theoretical ‘glass ceiling’ beyond which small navies cannot aspire to operate. There are obviously some practical limits. The number of assets available dictates how much presence at sea can be generated and how many operations can be conducted simultaneously. In turn, the age of the fleet may also have an effect on the number of sea days that a navy can generate, obviously due to challenges related to readiness of the assets and their sustainment.22 The size of assets constrains where a navy can operate and for how long. The ability to generate and sustain forces restricts persistence and redundancy. Available capabilities limit the type and scope of missions in which navies can engage. However, it is impossible to draw a definitive line in the sand beyond which small navies cannot venture. One-­off emergency operations have been undertaken by navies in response to government direction that are well outside the geographic or functional footprint that they usually occupy. The Kenyan Navy’s attack on the port city of Kismayo in Somalia in September 2012 as part of the Operation Linda Nchi comes to mind.23 As part of the attack on the port, the Kenyan Navy supported an amphibious landing aimed at taking control of this strategic location from Al Shabaab.24 Another example is the deployment by the Swedish Royal Navy of a number of assets, including HSwMS Stockholm, HSwMS Malmö and the support vessel Trossö in 2009; the HSwMS Carlskrona in 2010 and 2013; and a number of Combat Boat 90s, to the EU-­led anti-­piracy mission EUNAVFOR ATALANTA off the coast of Somalia.25

Special effects: force multipliers and small navies  41 This deployment occurred in an Area of Operations which is around 3500 nm from the Swedish Navy’s habitual operating area in the Baltic Sea. Similarly, one has to note that the Swedish Navy has also deployed twice as part of the UNIFIL’s Maritime Task Force in the Mediterranean.26 Nevertheless, it is reasonable to conclude that small navies do have significant limitations on their scope of action.

Limitations of force restructuring If the limitations inherent to small navies are restricting operational options, there are clear grounds for navies and governments to be asking themselves what can be done to mitigate them. Based on the concept of strategy as an instrument that matches ends, ways and, most importantly, means, then the most straightforward solution would appear to be to transform a small navy into a medium one.27 By expanding the available means, this would provide a state with a wider range of operational options and greater mass (ways) to achieve strategic and operational objectives (ends). However, although this might seem to be the obvious solution, the financial, human resources, time and political will to do so may not be a necessary given. Small navies cannot simply throw resources at the problems they face, they have to think and invest wisely. Such a transformation, however, is far from straightforward. The 1949 Mainguy Report on the Canadian Navy discussed the issue of what the authors labelled ‘growing pains’ at some length, noting that the Canadian Navy was ‘engaged in making too many bricks with too little straw’.28 This report, although penned almost 70 years ago, still illustrates that the demands of upgrading a small navy to a medium one are onerous to say the least. First, there is the financial burden, both the capital cost of more, larger and more complex vessels and infrastructure as well as the recurrent cost of sustaining operations. This increased expenditure also demands that the political and indeed popular will exists to assign sometimes-­ scarce resources to an initiative that may be of peripheral interest to electoral constituencies. Second, generating the trained, motivated and sustainable human element required to manage, operate and support a medium navy is a challenge all of its own. The well-­documented difficulties currently faced by the Irish Naval Service in sustaining existing force structures, while far from unique in Western navies, do not bode well for potential aspirations held by small navies to move up an order of magnitude.29 In addition, small navies tend to belong to small states, a fact that brings with it natural limitations on the potential recruitment pool. The third challenge faced in transforming the scale of a small navy is that of time. No amount of financial resources, willing recruits or political will can speed the process of building ships, shorten procurement lead times or reduce the length of a training pipeline below a minimum threshold. Transformation takes time, while challenges may be unwilling to wait. Exactly such a situation was in evidence during the prolonged process surrounding the procurement of three corvettes by the Royal Brunei Navy (RBN) at the beginning of the millennium. These three vessels, significantly larger at 85

42  Andrew Mallia and Chris Xuereb metres and almost 2000 tonnes displacement than anything operated hitherto, were contracted to BAE Systems at a total cost of close to US$1 billion and were intended to provide the RBN with a blue-­water capability. While the financial burden was well within the financial capabilities of this oil-­rich state, manning these vessels demanded that the RBN increase its complement by some 50 per cent up to a total of 1200 personnel.30 The small population presented a limited pool of potential manpower on which to draw on for such growth and the complexity of the vessels, in systems terms closer to frigates than corvettes, demanded skillsets that were unavailable. These challenges led the government of Brunei to refuse delivery of the vessels, purportedly due to a failure to meet specifications, an allegation that BAE refuted. The overall complexity of the vessels themselves, together with the elevated manpower requirements that they generated, have been widely identified as a more probable reason for rejecting these ships.31 The result was that the whole procurement process was referred to arbitration before being settled in a negotiated manner some years later, with Brunei acquiring the vessels before immediately putting them up for disposal. They were substituted shortly afterwards by four equally-­large but technologically more modest OPVs produced by the same contractor who had managed the disposal of the corvettes.32

Force multipliers and their applicability It is in this space between aspirations and hard reality that the concept of the force multiplier appears to offer solutions. From a linguistic perspective, the definition of a force multiplier offered by the Cambridge Dictionary is simply ‘something that increases the effect of a force’.33 Framed in more scientific terms and specific to military effects, Hurley states that ‘The term “force multiplier” typically connotes the synergistic effects of defence inputs’.34 These inputs can be tangible or intangible factors that, when used in conjunction with a given capability, enhance the force that can be brought to bear and the effects thus generated. From a purely theoretical perspective, the amplification of effects that force multipliers offer appear to represent a ‘silver bullet’ solution to the challenges facing small navies. The implication is that a small navy can legitimately aspire to delivering the effects of its medium counterpart without having to undergo the fundamental transformation described above but instead undertaking targeted measures that synergistically amplify the impact that is already available. The effect being described is, in essence, similar to the evolution of naval thinking following the sinking of INS Eilat by Styx SSMs in 1967. For a time, naval theorists seriously considered the possibility that missile technology had somewhat levelled the playing field between small, medium and even large navies.35 History has shown that this assumption was, at a minimum, subject to such conditionality as to make it a tactical exception rather than rule. In fact, the Israeli Navy, leaders in the concept of equipping small platforms with a technological ability to punch above their weight, fell victim to similar revolutionary thinking.

Special effects: force multipliers and small navies  43 In 2006, while patrolling off Beirut, the INS Hanit was attacked by a C-­802 SSM fired by Hezbollah from land, a capability that Israeli intelligence had failed to identify.36 Similar constraints apply to force multipliers, limiting their utility to particular circumstances and making them vulnerable to intended or unintended countermeasures. It has already been noted that force multipliers may be considered as falling into one of two basic categories: tangible and intangible. Tangible, as their designation implies, have a material element: thus, in the maritime domain, tangible force multipliers focus on a more efficient and effective use of physical resources. Many, if not all of them, are driven by advances in technology. Tangible force multipliers Unmanned systems are perhaps the most contemporary manifestation of a tangible force multiplier. By contributing to more persistent and efficient MDA, these systems allow the more targeted use of expensive, manned assets that are available in limited numbers. They are also transformative in nature. As far back as 2001, the Australian Navy had already identified the potential of Unmanned Aviation Systems (UAS) to enhance the capabilities of units that ‘do not have direct access to organic air assets, or to augment aircraft operations from aviation capable ships’.37 More recently, the experiences of the Irish Naval Service during deployments on EUNAVFOR Sophia in the Mediterranean have demonstrated the significant operational advantages that can be delivered by even a relatively basic, commercial-­ off-the-­ shelf UAS.38 This is not to say that such systems are without their limitations. Most obvious among these is the fact that, for the majority of non-­kinetic missions conducted by small navies, such as maritime law enforcement, search and rescue (SAR) and counter-­trafficking, many smaller unmanned systems are limited to observation and cannot provide direct intervention. They also place significant demands on electromagnetic bandwidth, a resource that may already be limited on smaller vessels or in navies with limited access to proprietary communications systems. A second significant force multiplier comes in the form of platform automation. By automating various control and monitoring functions and displaying a wide variety of system information in a single location, so-­called Integrated Platform Management Systems allow leaner manning. In theory, this permits the manning of a larger number of platforms while keeping personnel levels relatively unchanged. This concept was fully embraced by the US Navy as part of the Littoral Combat Ship (LCS) Project. Originally designed with a significant level of automation in order to operate with a core crew of just 40 (despite rivalling many European frigates in size), the two variants of the LCS were also intended to embark mission modules as required with up to 40 additional personnel being embarked to support the specific mission. As early as 2012, reports to Congress noted that manning levels had a detrimental effect on the ship’s overall survivability.39 Similar reports in 2016 noted that the core crew had grown to 5040 while, by 2018, it was being reported that the LCS was the subject of severe concerns

44  Andrew Mallia and Chris Xuereb in regard to survivability and capability. Operational experience has demonstrated the difficulties in operating, maintaining and sustaining these vessels effectively with such small crews and there have been a significant number of documented technical failures.41 Although also incorporating a significant degree of automation, and despite being some 30 per cent smaller in size and with a far more restricted mission set, the LÉ Samuel Beckett class OPVs of the Irish Naval Service have a core complement of 44. It appears, therefore, that platform automation has its limits and that there is a threshold in manning levels below which mission performance and platform maintenance begins to suffer. Perhaps more significant in the case of the LCS is a consideration of the options available to a navy when such systematic shortcomings have been identified in a particular platform or, for that matter, any technology-­based solution. Having decided that, in its current form, the LCS programme was not delivering the type of vessels needed, the US Navy has transitioned to the Future Frigate, or FFG(X) Programme. Designed to deliver a vessel that is larger, more heavily armed and more expensive than the LCS, this programme is intended to procure a vessel based on an existing design and with less technological risk than its predecessor.42 Small navies, however, rarely have the luxury of such mid-­course corrections. When programming a new class of vessels (or perhaps sometimes even a single vessel), small navies are putting all of their financial and political goodwill eggs in a single basket. Should the selected system fail to deliver as promised or have inherent flaws, small navies are rarely, if ever, given the option of starting afresh. The example of Brunei cited above is a notable exception, which can be explained by the significant financial resources available in that particular case. In less ideal circumstances, such as those of HMNZS Canterbury, procured under Project Protector,43 such missteps can elicit some scathing language, as in the case of the independent review conducted in regard of the vessel’s safety and functionality: ‘HMNZS CANTERBURY’s acquisition has been … characterised by shortcomings in project management and governance and collective wishful thinking. It is unlikely to meet all of the requirements of the contract.’44 Automation also promises performance gains that, rather than being based on the reduction of manning levels, allow existing human resources to perform at higher levels. The increased automation of bridge functions, for instance, theoretically permits crews to expend less effort in undertaking basic navigation and safety functions and devote more attention to mission-­critical activities. Systems such as Warship Electronic Chart Display and Information Systems (WECDIS) fuse information from various sensors to provide watchstanders with enhanced situational awareness. At least that is the theory. There have been enough documented failures of bridge teams, including the incidents involving the USS McCain and USS Fitzgerald in 2017, to demonstrate that over-­reliance on automation can also lead to a loss of critical skills. However, academic studies have equally clearly shown that WECDIS, properly implemented and operated, can deliver faster tactical decision-­making, better weapons targeting and an enhanced ability to conduct operations such as Maritime Interdiction Operations in complex operating environments.45

Special effects: force multipliers and small navies  45 Intangible force multipliers Intangible force multipliers generally consist of organisational and administrative measures. A prime example would be training: a better-­ trained human resource can be expected to deliver better effects. When applied to a small navy, this type of investment in training has significant effects. The example of the Maritime Squadron of the Armed Forces of Malta (AFM) demonstrates this to good effect. What was a coastal patrolling unit with less than 100 personnel transformed itself into an effective constabulary navy with a range of vessels and a complement of over 350 over a period of 25 years. It is no coincidence that the beginning of this period coincided with the commissioning of the first naval officers to be trained at a naval academy, in this case the German Naval Academy in Muerwik. Similar efforts were also made to professionalise the training of Non-­ Commissioned Officers and enlisted personnel. As a result, by 2013, the AFM was operating in support of the EU counter-­piracy mission, EUNAVFOR ATALANTA, and was supporting training activities for the post-­Gaddafi navy in Libya.46 The Maritime Squadron was also taking a leading role in FRONTEX Joint Operations in the Central Mediterranean and participating in similar operations off Spain and Greece.47 An unexpected side-­effect of this improved training regime, however, was increased difficulty in retention of personnel, both prior to them completing their 25-year pensionable commitment and also subsequent to completion of that period. Whereas previously the major source of personnel attrition was personnel having reached their mandatory retirement age, the past ten years have seen a definite shift, with personnel leaving prior to or exactly on completion of their 25-year commitment. This is partly attributable to a buoyant employment market but also due to the fact that the skills acquired while serving have made such personnel far more attractive to private industry than was previously the case. Similar issues have also been documented in other small naval forces, notably the Irish Naval Service.48 Morale can also play a significant role in making a small naval force far more potent than its physical size would suggest. The performance of the Israeli Navy in the 1973 Yom Kippur War provides significant evidence of this. Despite being significantly outnumbered by its adversaries, the determination demonstrated by operational commanders over a series of engagements delivered remarkable results. So significant was the success thus achieved that it was acknowledged by no-­one less that the former Egyptian Minister of War, General Mohammed Fawzi.49 While extremely powerful in its potential effects, morale is also extremely fragile. Facing an existential threat, as was the case in Israel in 1973, personnel tend to be naturally motivated and engaged, knowing that the very survival of their state may depend on their performance. During extended periods of peace during which navies engage in routine and relatively low-­risk tasks, maintaining morale depends on a broad range of more prosaic variables including pay, working conditions, the public perception of the navy or broader military establishment and the type and quality of tasks being undertaken. Recent research

46  Andrew Mallia and Chris Xuereb commissioned by the Irish Defence Force has illustrated just how severe such a crisis of morale can potentially be.50 With most of these variables being subject to political, budgetary and policy decisions taken outside the navy or wider armed forces, addressing these issues can be something outside the competence of the organisation suffering their effects. Achieving a balance All of these examples demonstrate the dual-­edged nature of force multipliers. When correctly administered, matched with reasonable expectations and applied to a force structure that is fundamentally sound, the results that can be achieved are striking. In the case of small navies, where force is a limited commodity, the effect is even more marked. Equally, however, force multipliers can fail to produce the expected improvements or indeed have unintended negative effects. No organisation trains and educates their human resources to make them more attractive to other potential employers, yet, as has clearly been shown, increased departures to other employers is an inevitable result of a more educated workforce, especially where the pay differences between public and private sectors are significant. Nor is automation intended to detract from basic skills and the appropriate execution of duties, indeed it is touted as making a positive contribution to overall levels of safety. However, implemented and managed in a manner that fails to properly take into account the interaction between humans and technology, it can lead to inattention, carelessness and an overall degradation of the knowledge base.

Conclusion This consideration of the applicability of force multipliers to small navies has allowed us to draw four broad conclusions. These are intended to guide the considerations of planners when considering potential measures to enhance the effects that a small navy can deliver. First, force multipliers offer a real option for enhancing the capability of small navies. In fact, their potential effect on smaller organisations with limited force options is perhaps greater than that which could be realised by a larger organisation with significant force options already at its disposal. It is enough to consider the significant change that a professional training regime has had on the AFM’s Maritime Squadron to understand that, correctly applied, the effect of force multipliers can be truly transformative. Second, planners must consider not only the expected benefits of force multipliers but their potential shortcomings and detrimental effects, which may be totally unintended in nature. If an intended measure turns into a zero-­sum-game, then it is unlikely to create the beneficial synergies originally intended. The unexpected challenge faced by many small navies in retaining personnel who have been trained to a standard that makes them overly attractive to private industry is a clear example of such unintended consequences.

Special effects: force multipliers and small navies  47 Third, the transformation from a small to a medium navy is a fundamental one that requires deep changes in all aspects of a navy’s policy, equipment, training and human resources to name but a few. Force multipliers are not the magical ‘silver bullet’ that can deliver such change on the cheap or quickly. Brunei’s abortive attempt to transform capabilities without transforming structures provides a stark lesson in this regard. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, force-­ multipliers can only be as effective as the existing force structure to which they are applied. If the fundamentals are weak, no amount of special measures can deliver results that exceed their potential. Equally so, the success of force multipliers should not be used to contemplate or justify reductions in force levels or resources as they cannot offset reductions in the basic resources available to an organisation. Despite having been drafted almost 70 years ago, the findings of the Mainguy Report are still relevant today. The potential of force multipliers in enhancing the capabilities of small navies appears clear. Equally clear, however, are their limitations and potential to have unintended detrimental effects if poorly managed. As all navies face a future with ever more challenges and limited resources, there can be little doubt that the role of force multipliers will become more prominent.

Notes   1 Defense News (2017), ‘US Navy Secretary: The path to restoring naval readiness’ [online], available from www.defensenews.com/outlook/2017/12/11/us-­ navysecretary-­ the-path-­ to-restoring-­ naval-readiness/ [accessed 12 September 2018] and DeBattista, A.P. (2016), A small-­island state within a changing security climate: the case of Malta, Symposia Melitensia Number 12, 69–86, pp. 73–74.   2 Morgan, J.R. (1994), ‘Porpoises among the Whales: Small Navies in Asia and the Pacific’, East-­West Center, Special Report, 3.   3 Woody, C. (2018), ‘These are the 10 Largest Navies in the World’ [online], available from: www.businessinsider.com/biggest-­navies-in-­the-world-­2018-4 [accessed 19 August 2018].   4 When compared with the US Navy.   5 O’Rourke, R. (2018), ‘China Naval Modernisation: Implications for U.S. Navy Capabilities – Background and Issues for Congress’, CRS Report for Congress 1 August 2018 and Scimia, E. (2018), ‘French and British navies draw closer in the Pacific. Should China worry?’, South China Morning Post, 4 June 2018 and Todd, D. and Linberg, M. (1996), Navies and Shipbuilding Industries – The Strained Symbiosis, USA: Praeger Publishers.   6 See Eric Grove, The Future of Sea Power (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1990); Till, Seapower 4th edn (2018); Daniel Todd and Michael Lindberg, Navies and Shipbuilding Industries (London: Praeger, 1996).   7 Kirchberger, S. (2015), Assessing China’s Naval Power: Technological Innovation, Economic Constraints, and Strategic Implications, Germany: Springer. p. 60.   8 Grove, E. (2014), ‘The Ranking of Smaller Navies Revisited’ in Mulqueen, M., Sanders, D. and Speller, I. eds., Small Navies: Strategy and Policy for Small Navies in War and Peace, Farnham: Ashgate, 2016 p. 16.   9 Till, G. (2003), ‘Can Small navies Stay afloat?’ Jane’s Navy International and Mulqueen et al. (2014) ‘Introduction’ in Mulqueen et al. eds., Small Navies p. 8.

48  Andrew Mallia and Chris Xuereb 10 Krajewski, P. (2013), ‘Tough Choices for Small Navies’ [online], available from: http://cimsec.org/tough-­choices-for-­small-navies/3782 [accessed 13 September 2018]. 11 de Lestang, J.N. and Carolus, I. (2014), ‘Agulhas and Somali Current Large Marine Ecosystems Project’ [online], available from: https://iwlearn.net/resolveuid/0dbfeff63 3d97f0795260058b74154a8+&cd=14&hl=it&ct=clnk&gl=mt [accessed 27 August 2018]. 12 Seychelles Department of Foreign Affairs (2014), ‘A milestone in our relations – Indian Navy hands over patrol ship to Seychelles Coast Guard’ [online], available from: www.mfa.gov.sc/static.php?content_id=18&news_id=912 [accessed 27 August 2018]. 13 Ibid., The National (2011), ‘Navy gives Seychelles 5 patrol boats to fight pirates’ [online], available from: www.thenational.ae/uae/navy-­gives-seychelles-­five-patrol-­ boats-to-­fight-pirates-­1.441304 [accessed 28 August 2018] and Defence Web (2014), ‘Seychelles Coast Guard commissions new patrol boat’ [online], available from: www.defenceweb.co.za/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=35359: seychelles-­coast-guard-­commissions-new-­patrol-boat&catid=51:Sea&Itemid=106 [accessed 28 August 2018]. 14 Naval Today (2014), ‘Seychelles Coast Guard: Future Plans for new Surveillance Assets’ [online], available from: https://navaltoday.com/2014/11/27/seychelles-­coastguard-­future-plans-­for-new-­surveillance-assets/ [accessed 27 August 2018] and Seychelles Weekly (2016), ‘Six Arrests following Drug Sea Operations’ [online], available from: www.seychellesweekly.com/2016/March%2021,%202016/soc2a_six_ arrests_drugs.html [accessed 27 August 2018]. 15 Davies, A. and Layton, P. (2009), ‘Special Report Issue 25 – We’ll have six of them and four of those: Off-­the-shelf procurement and its strategic implications’ [online], available from: www.journal.forces.gc.ca/vol.16/no1/page5-eng.asp [accessed 1 September 2018] and Rudd, R. (2014), ‘Military off-­the-shelf: A discussion on combat ship acquisition’, Defence Research and Development Canada (August 2014). www. dtic.mil/dtic/tr/fulltext/u2/1017630.pdf [accessed 1 September 2018]; also Rudd, R. (2015), ‘Off-­the-shelf or new design? Considerations for the Canadian Surface Combat Program’, Canadian Military Journal (November 2015). www.journal.forces. gc.ca/vol.16/no1/page5-eng.asp [accessed 1 September 2018]. 16 CBC (2013), ‘Arctic Patrol Ship plan headed for ‘disaster’, says report’ [online], available from: www.cbc.ca/news/canada/north/arctic-­patrol-ship-­plan-headed-­for-disaster-­ says-report-­ 1.1312191 [accessed 6 September 2018] and Canadian Naval Review (2013), ‘Analysis of “Shipbuilding contract holds $250M mystery” by Terry Milewski’ [online], available from: www.navalreview.ca/2013/05/analysis-­ of-shipbuilding-­ contract-holds-­250m-mystery-­by-terry-­milewski/ [accessed 6 September 2018]. 17 Huebert, R. (2016), ‘The Royal Canadian Navy: Facing Rough Seas’, Canadian Global Affairs Institute, January 2016. www.cgai.ca/facing_rough_seas [accessed 6 September 2018] and Navaltoday.com (2016), Canada Announces bid to unify AOPS, JSS Ship Support Contract [online], available from: https://navaltoday.com/ 2016/07/22/canada-­announces-bid-­to-unify-­aops-jss-­ship-support-­contract/ [accessed 6 September 2018] and The High River Times (2018), Will a sixth Arctic Offshore Patrol Ship be built for the Royal Canadian Navy? [online], available from: https:// navaltoday.com/2016/07/22/canada-­announces-bid-­to-unify-­aops-jss-­ship-support-­ contract/ [accessed 6 September 2018]. 18 Klein, N. (2012), Maritime Security and the Law of the Sea, UK: Oxford University Press, p. 98. 19 Marine Institute (2018), The Real Map of Ireland [online], available from: www. marine.ie/Home/site-­area/irelands-­marine-resource/real-­map-ireland [accessed 21 August 2018] and Defence Forces Ireland (2018), ‘Fisheries Monitoring Centre’ [online], available from: www.military.ie/naval-­service/organisation/specialist-­units/ fisheries-­monitoring-centre/ [accessed 23 August 2018].

Special effects: force multipliers and small navies  49 20 Malta Freeport (2018), ‘About Us’ [online], available from: www.maltafreeport.com. mt/content.aspx?id=107934 [accessed 21 August 2018]. 21 Times of Malta (2017), ‘Malta’s Shipping Register remains EU largest’ [online], available from www.timesofmalta.com/articles/view/20170926/local/maltas-­shippingregister-­is-still-­eus-largest.658956 [accessed 23 August 2018]. 22 Government of Canada (2013), ‘Evaluation of Naval Forces’ [online], available from: www.forces.gc.ca/en/about-­reports-pubs-­audit-eval/218p0989.page [accessed 21 August 2018]. 23 The Guardian (2012), Kenyan troops launch beach assault on Somali city of Kismayo [online], available from: www.theguardian.com/world/2012/sep/28/kenyan-­soldierscapture-­kismayo-somalia [accessed 21 August 2018] and Olsen, G.R. (2018), ‘The October 2011 Kenyan invasion of Somalia: fighting al-­Shabaab or defending institutional interests?’ Journal of Contemporary African Studies, 36 (1). 24 DefenceWeb (2012), ‘Kenya Navy’s newest warship takes the fight to Somalia’ [online], available from: www.defenceweb.co.za/index.php?option=com_content&view =article&id=28318:kenyan-­navys-newest-­warship-takes-­the-fight-­to-somalia&catid= 108:maritime-­security [accessed 23 August 2018]. 25 The Local (2009), ‘Swedish navy arrests pirates off Somali coast’ [online], available from: www.thelocal.se/20090526/19672 [accessed 21 August 2018] and EUNAVFOR ATALANTA (2013), ‘Swedish Ocean Patrol Vessel HSwMS Carlskrona Joins EU Naval Force’ [online], available from: http://eunavfor.eu/swedish-­ocean-patrol-­ vessel-hswms-­ carlskrona-joins-­ eu-naval-­ force/ [accessed 21 August 2018] and EUNAVFOR ATALANTA (2013), ‘Swedish Fast Assault Craft Conduct First Mission with EU Naval Force’ [online], available from: http://eunavfor.eu/swedish-­ fast-assault-­craft-conduct-­first-mission-­with-eu-­naval-force/ [accessed 21 August 2018]. 26 UNIFIL (2018), ‘UNIFIL Maritime Task Force’ [online], available from: https:// unifil.unmissions.org/unifil-­maritime-task-­force [accessed 23 August 2018]. 27 US Joint Chiefs of Staff (2018), ‘Joint Doctrine Note 1–18’ [online], available from: www.jcs.mil/Portals/36/Documents/Doctrine/jdn_jg/jdn1_18.pdf?ver=2018–04–25– 150439–540 [accessed 23 August 2018]. 28 Mainguy, E.R. (1949), ‘Report on certain “Incidents” which occurred on board H.M.C. Ships ATHABASKAN, CRESCENT and MAGNIFICENT and on other matters concerning The Royal Canadian Navy’ [online], available from: https://naval andmilitarymuseum.org/sites/default/files/pdf/mainguy.pdf [accessed 23 August 2018]. 29 The Irish Examiner (2018), ‘Navy ‘going backwards’ as it faces personnel crisis’ [online], available from: www.irishexaminer.com/ireland/navy-­going-backwards-­asit-­faces-personnel-­crisis-469220.html [accessed 22 August 2018]. 30 Goldrick, J. and McCaffrie, J. (2013), Navies of South-­East Asia: A Comparative Study, London: Routledge. 31 Asia Sentinel (2011), ‘Brunei Finally Gets its Gunships’ [online], available from: www.asiasentinel.com/politics/brunei-­finally-gets-­its-gunboats/ [accessed 22 August 2018]. 32 Goldrick and McCaffrie (2013), Navies of South-­East Asia. 33 Cambridge Dictionary (2019), ‘Meaning of force multiplier in English’, https:// dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/force-­multiplier. 34 Hurley, W.J. (2005), ‘A Clarification of the Concepts of Force Multiplier and Returns to Force Scale’ Defence and Peace Economics, 16(6), p. 463. 35 Speller, I. (2014), Understanding Naval Warfare, London: Routledge. 36 Ibid. 37 Royal Australian Navy Sea Power Centre (2001), ‘Working Paper No. 6 – Unmanned Aerial Vehicles & the Future Navy’ [online], available from: www.navy.gov.au/spc/ sites/default/files/publication-­documents/Working_Paper_6.pdf [accessed 22 August 2018], p. 4.

50  Andrew Mallia and Chris Xuereb 38 Irish Central (2018), ‘Drones to aid Ireland’s war on illegal fishing and pollution’ [online], available from: www.irishcentral.com/news/irishvoice/drones-­ireland-drugs-­ sea [accessed 22 August 2018] and DJI (2018), ‘Phantom 4 Pro Specs’ [online], available from: www.dji.com/phantom-­4-pro/info [accessed 22 August 2018]. 39 O’Rourke, R. (2012), ‘Navy Littoral Combat Ship (LCS) Program: Background, Issues, and Options for Congress’ [online], available from: www.everycrsreport. com/files/20120320_RL33741_a661f8765083f619614c3db8a8fdc46ede985193.pdf [accessed 22 August 2018]. 40 O’Rourke (2012), ‘Navy Littoral Combat Ship (LCS)/Frigate Program’. 41 Military.com (nd.), ‘Third Freedom Class LCS Breaks Down in 12 Months’ [online], available from: www.military.com/daily-­news/2016/08/29/third-­freedom-class-­lcsbreaks-­down-in-­12-months.html [accessed 18 August 2018]. 42 O’Rourke, R. (2018), ‘Navy Frigate (FFG[X]) Program: Background and Issues for Congress’ [online], available from: https://fas.org/sgp/crs/weapons/R44972.pdf [accessed 22 August 2018]. 43 Initiated in 2002 in response to the Maritime Forces Review of 2001, Project Protector included the procurement of a single Multi-­Role Sealift Ship, two Offshore Patrol Vessels and four Inshore Patrol Vessels. 44 New Zealand MoD (2008), ‘Report of the Review of the Safety and Functionality of HMNZS Canterbury’ [online], available from https://defence.govt.nz/assets/Uploads/ independent-­review-safety-­hmnzs-canterbury.pdf [accessed 12 September 2018]. 45 Kasum, J., Pavić, I. and Mišković, J. (2013), ‘Increase of combat effectiveness of warships with the introduction into operation of WECDIS’ International Journal of Maritime Science & Technology 60. 55–60, [online] available from https://hrcak.srce. hr/file/162157 [accessed 12 September 2018]. 46 Mulqueen et al. (2014), ‘Introduction’ in Mulqueen et al. eds., Small Navies p. 4. 47 Ibid. 48 MacMahon, J., MacCurtain, S. and Harnett, C. (2017), Workplace Climate in the Defence Forces Phase 2: Results of the Focus Group Research [online], available from: www.defence.ie/system/files/media/file-­uploads/2017–12/workplace-­climatedefence-­forces.pdf [accessed 12 September 2018]. 49 Almog, Z. (1997), Israel’s Navy beat the odds [online], available from: www.usni. org/magazines/proceedings/1997–03/israels-­navy-beat-­odds [accessed 14 September 2018]. 50 MacMahon et al. (2017), Workplace Climate in the Defence Forces Phase 2 [online].

5 From hand-­me-down navies to niche players? Comparing the navies of (very) small European states Brendan Flynn Making distinctions: small navies and the navies of (very) small states The Pope! How many divisions has he got?

(Joseph Stalin)1

When Stalin posed this question, he wasn’t thinking about navies and his quip reflects the realpolitik dismissal of very small states. Our question is not Stalin’s, but we can legitimately ask do small state navies count for much? The answer as usual is that it depends on what small navy one looks at and what is meant by ‘small’. The evolving literature sometimes uses the descriptor ‘small’ in a far too imprecise manner.2 The approach advocated here is to study the navies of (very) small European states rather than small navies per se. That connection with state capacity reflects a much deeper puzzle on the persistence of small states in a global order dominated by hegemonic powers. One reason why this approach is employed is because there is a fundamental difference between the navies of small but rich states and those of small, poor nations. The Netherlands, Denmark, New Zealand, South Korea or Singapore are often identified as small states with small navies, but of course they are all wealthy economies and democracies. Moreover, their navies often enjoy a prestigious heritage related to an imperial past. There are also naval forces of what can be termed the ‘new rich’. Singapore, for example, has leveraged its rising wealth to fund a very advanced navy in just a few decades. Small Gulf state naval forces now fit into this category. By way of contrast, very small states of modest wealth don’t have much naval power because they can’t afford it. Admittedly, economic wealth does not simply translate into naval power, because naval capabilities involve independent variables of organisational and strategic culture. Geography can also enhance or reduce a state’s maritime strategic importance, regardless of whether it is small, big, rich or poor.

52  Brendan Flynn

Why study Europe’s Lilliputian navies? Notwithstanding economic, geographic or historical distinctions, there are significant demographic differences between small states and properly mini-­states or micro-­states. The population threshold for the latter has been cited as 300,0003 and they are usually best defined by examples: Andorra, etc. Such small, miniand micro-­states are ubiquitous in the world system. A 2017 UN study on global population identifies, out of 49 UN-­recognised European states or territories, 13 with a population under one million, 11 with a population under five million and a further 17 states with a population over five million but below 20 million.4 The point here is twofold. First, ignoring the majority of small states in the European state system risks missing out a significant part of the overall sample. Second, we need to distinguish between small states, mini-­states and micro-­ states or territories. Of course, one problem with studying the navies of small states is that it risks missing the obvious category of large states, like the Ukraine, that have nonetheless small navies. That case is examined by Sanders in Chapter 12 of this book. Notwithstanding such qualifications, the focus here is upon the naval capabilities of what are among the smallest and weaker European states, asking the question how such relatively modest countries afford naval forces and to what extent are they relevant? What is examined here is a sub-­set of (very) small European navies, deliberately skewed towards the lower end of population. This includes two geographically contrasting small states which, although EU members, are not NATO navies: Ireland and Cyprus. Also examined are Iceland, Latvia and Slovenia, which although NATO members, inhabit different geographic conditions. These states also differ as to whether they have a large or small EEZ (Ireland and Iceland versus Slovenia respectively). Most importantly, their economies are small, or they exhibit low defence spending. They cannot leverage their small size with a large wallet, unlike say Norway. They are the classic exemplars of very small states, typically footnoted in international relations studies dominated by the great powers. Figures 5.1 to 5.4 highlight the territorial, financial and retention precarities of small European states. These Lilliputian polities and their navies are nonetheless interesting from a political science perspective.5 One reason why we study small states goes back to Thucydides, who described how Sparta and Athens were drawn into conflict precisely over whether some small states were allied, defecting or neutral.6 They were not the cause of that much wider war, but they were central to when and where it was initiated. In this respect at least, Stalin’s dismissiveness is unsound. Very small European states are often in the geopolitical frontline of conflict. Georgia’s Navy was practically destroyed by Russian attacks in 2008, losing their larger ships and since then being restyled merely as a coastguard with smaller patrol boats.7 Estonian, Latvian and Lithuanian naval forces are in the frontline of further possible Russian aggression. Malta’s ‘maritime squadron’ has been dealing with the irregular migration crisis since 2007, while the Cypriot Navy countenances a clash with Turkey over disputed EEZ claims. Even

From hand-me-down navies to niche players?   53 1200

Currcet 2017 US $

900

600

300

0

1996 1997 1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016

Cyprus Latvia

Year Iceland Slovenia

Ireland France

Figure 5.1 Military expenditure per capita for Cyprus, Iceland, Ireland, Latvia and Slovenia, contrasted with France, 1996–2016 (in 2017 US$). Source: SIPRI, 2017, www.sipri.org/databases/milex (accessed March 8, 2019). Note: in some cases data here is estimated by SIPRI.

I­ celand’s Coastguard faces Russian presence in their waters, deployments to the Mediterranean for humanitarian rescue and melting polar ice that may provoke a ‘scramble for the North Pole’. The Irish Naval Service, which traditionally stayed in its EEZ for fishery protection, now finds itself off the waters of Libya while also pondering how to manage fishery protection with a post-­Brexit UK. However, very small states may simply lack the fiscal base to sustain certain types of naval technology, and they can be more vulnerable to economic shocks and some of the states examined here were at the forefront of the great recession

54   Brendan Flynn 1400

Constant 2015 US $ millions

1050

700

350

0

1996 1997 1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016

Cyprus Latvia

Year Iceland Slovenia

Ireland

Figure 5.2 Military expenditure, in constant (2015) US$m, for Cyprus, Iceland*, Ireland, Latvia and Slovenia, 1996–2016. Source: SIPRI, 2017, www.sipri.org/databases/milex (accessed March 8, 2019). Note * Iceland did not report a defence budget for most years.

From hand-me-down navies to niche players?  55 3,000,000 2,500,000 2,000,000 1,500,000 1,000,000 500,000 0

Land territory in km2

Maritime EEZ in km2

Figure 5.3 Comparing European small states’ maritime territory versus their land territory (in km2). Source: For land territory: https://unstats.un.org/unsd/demographic/products/dyb/dyb2012/Table03. pdf (accessed March 8, 2019); For EEZ’s: www.seaaroundus.org/data/#/eez (accessed March 8, 2019).

of 2008. To what extent has it eroded their already limited capacity to fund naval capabilities? Therefore, a second set of questions explored relates to the structural constraints facing small state navies. Should we expect them to merely invest in the most basic of coastal constabulary assets to the neglect of any sea-­ denial role? Or could we expect them to innovate with radically asymmetric naval doctrines, because they can’t afford anything else? Relatedly, very small states have often been recipients of second-­hand ships from larger powers.8 While some of this activity is hard-­headed business, ships are also ‘gifted’ as part of wider diplomatic calculations. How has this activity shaped small state naval forces? In order to provide sufficient context, each country’s naval forces are described in successive sections, followed by a discussion that draws out similarities, differences and the larger analytical lessons.

56  Brendan Flynn Greece

15,600

Netherlands

8550

Portugal

8050

Romania

6600

Norway

4350

Finland

3500

Bulgaria

3450

Denmark

2100

Belgium

1550

Croatia

1300

Sweden

1250

Ireland

1100

Lithuania

680

Albania

650

Latvia

550

Cyprus

462

Estonia

400

Montenegro

350

Malta

316

Iceland

250

Slovenia

120 0

4000

8000

12,000

16,000

20,000

Figure 5.4  Numbers of personnel (2017) in the navies* of European small states. Source: IISS/The International Institute for Strategic Studies, The Military Balance, 117, 1 (London: Routledge and IISS, 2017). Notes * Includes coastguards in cases of Iceland (which has no navy) and Latvia which combines both. Slovenia’s Navy is termed an Army Maritime Element. Numbers for Malta are based on EDA estimates.

Latvia’s Navy: over-­niched by NATO? Latvia’s Navy (Latvijas Jūras Spēki) is young, as are all the Baltic States’ navies that emerged after the dissolution of the USSR in 1991. Yet, Latvia’s Navy is dominated by old, second-­hand vessels, notably Mine Countermeasures (MCM) Warfare ships. These are five ex-­Dutch Alkmaar (Tripartite) class, 600 t, mine-­ hunters, acquired between 2007 and 2011. Latvia also received, in 2003, a large (1700 t) but already 25 years old Norwegian minelayer/command ship, the Virsaitis. Along with the navies of Estonia and Lithuania (who operate ex Royal Navy Sandown and Hunt class mine-­hunters respectively), these vessels form a Baltic naval MCM squadron (BALTRON) and this is an important element of

From hand-me-down navies to niche players?   57 NATO’s Standing Naval MCM Group One. The Latvians also maintain a patrol boat squadron with five innovative, but small and basically unarmed, German ‘Skrunda’ class boats, delivered from 2011. There is an ex-­Dutch Navy logistics and command ship (Varonis) together with six small patrol boats for the Coastguard element, which is fully integrated into the Latvian Navy.9 Procuring old mine-­hunters seemed like a sensible idea in the decade after 9/11, given the geographic nature of the Baltic as a ‘closed sea’, together with the prevalence of unexploded mines and the importance of keeping their ports open. In fact, the idea of having the small Baltic navies specialise in mine warfare goes back to the mid-­1990s under German political advice.10 However, MCM vessels would be vulnerable to Russian flanking amphibious attacks, A2/ AD weapons11 or ‘hybrid war’ at sea scenarios.12 Moreover, while Latvian defence spending has dramatically increased in the aftermath of the Crimean annexation, most of this is being absorbed by their land forces, with the creation of mechanised infantry units. Ex-­British Army tracked vehicles and ex-­Austrian self-­propelled howitzers have been purchased and a significant recent cost has been Sentinel air defence radars.13 An additional and fundamental problem for Latvia is that their large ethnic Russian-­speaking minority does not necessarily share in the perception of Russia as a renewed threat. While Latvian defence spending over the last decades had been increasing with the aim of reaching 2 per cent of GDP by 2013, it dropped during the recession years (2008–2014), as Latvia struggled with her public finances.14 Their armed force’s headcount was cut by 10 per cent and defence spending fell by 50 per cent.15 In relative terms, Latvia’s defence spending will reach the 2 per cent of GDP NATO goal by 2018. By 2017, their defence budget doubled to €448 m, up from €212 m in 2013.16 Because Latvia ended conscription in 2007, personnel costs are significant. Given that, in future, mine countermeasures may not require specialist vessels (it can be undertaken by regular multi-­role vessels using modular drones, sensors and software), the focus on MCM boats to the exclusion of other platforms seems ripe for re-­evaluation. Yet, the decision to specialise in the niche of mine warfare leaves comparatively little space to evolve other naval capabilities. Ironically, Latvia procured four ex-­Royal Norwegian Navy FAC (Storm class) in the late 1990s, but these aged vessels were retired in 2012, leaving the Latvian Naval Forces with no credible littoral combat capabilities. While in theory other NATO forces provide cover, existing NATO force posture is best characterised as a small land-­based ‘tripwire’ element augmented by reinforcement capabilities.17 This stark reality makes Latvia even more dependent on the NATO alliance. If, for whatever reason, NATO assistance is either slow or hesitant, this may expose Latvia. It is interesting to contrast how the independent Latvian Navy of the inter-­war period (1919–1939), although a shoestring affair, nonetheless featured the classic sea denial asset of coastal submarines.18 Latvia’s experience of second-­hand NATO largesse has arguably narrowed their small navy into an excellent, but ‘ghettoised’, MCM and coastguard type force.

58   Brendan Flynn

Iceland’s Coastguard: a constabulary ‘navy’ by any other name? In contrast to Latvia, Iceland is a tiny island in the middle of the ferocious western Atlantic, with nonetheless an enormous and valuable EEZ that is 7.5 times greater than its land area (Figure 5.3). Iceland is also distinctive for employing a coastguard (Landhelgisgæsla Íslands) as its national armed force, although there are also armed elements of the national police (Víkingasveitin). Dating back to the independence era of 1926, Iceland’s Coastguard is therefore regarded as a popular manifestation of national sovereignty. While the 250strong Icelandic Coastguard is sometimes described as a civilian law enforcement agency, it provides a diverse range of military capabilities from bomb disposal to co-­ordination of the NATO radar air defence network on Iceland, together with fishery protection and SAR duties. Iceland’s three Puma SAR helicopters are heavily engaged in rescue taskings19 and these helicopters have been augmented since 2009 by a single Dash 8 Maritime Patrol Aircraft (MPA). These are complemented by a fleet of four vessels, of which Thor is a very modern and capable Rolls Royce designed OPV, built in Chile. It was ordered in 2007 and delivered in 2011. This vessel was a modification of a Norwegian coastguard design (UT512) and, while superb for constabulary tasks, has no significant military capabilities. The priority was sea-­keeping, economy and the ability to manage maritime rescue scenarios. Two smaller OPVs (Tyr and Ægir) are very old, built in 1975 and 1968 respectively, and now need replacing. Helicopters can be landed or refuelled with all these vessels but are not embarked. A fourth, much smaller vessel (70 t Baldur) is used mostly for hydrographic survey work.20 Iceland’s NATO membership has been longstanding since 1949 but has not been without challenges. Historically, NATO membership has been controversial within domestic politics and was in jeopardy during Iceland’s confrontations with Britain, the so called ‘Cod Wars’.21 While Icelandic Coastguard bomb disposal experts have served on land in Iraq, cementing relations with the US, Icelandic NATO/US diplomacy was thrown into disarray in 2006 when the US unilaterally withdrew their longstanding (since 1951) military presence at Keflavík and later declined to provide economic support as the Icelandic economy collapsed during the great recession of 2008.22 The Icelandic Coastguard was suddenly obliged to absorb the running costs of the legacy NATO radar system, which involves no less than five long-­range Amer­ican-­made radars at diverse sites across the island and a control centre at Kevflavík that is fully integrated into NATO’s Combined Air Operations Centre (CAOC) at Uedem, Germany.23 However, with the return of Russian naval activity in the North Atlantic, Iceland has once again become an important focal point for NATO. Iceland has featured in many recent NATO exercises: ‘Northern Challenge’ in 2014,24 which tested diving and bomb disposal expertise; ‘Dynamic Mongoose’ in 2017,25 where Iceland hosted a large NATO anti-­submarine warfare (ASW) exercise;

From hand-me-down navies to niche players?   59 and in Autumn 2018, ‘Trident Juncture’, one of the largest NATO exercises since the Cold War, was held adjacent to Icelandic waters and involved US marines practicing on Icelandic soil.26 Fighter aircraft from various NATO and Nordic units have been rotated since 2008 as part of a formal NATO air policing mission. While domestic politics does not support entry into the EU, even though a formal application for membership was made in 2009 and is currently on hold,27 Iceland has nonetheless become involved in collective European maritime security initiatives. Notably, in 2015, Icelandic Coastguard vessels and their sole MPA deployed to help in the humanitarian migration crisis off Libya. Despite not being a member of the EU, Iceland’s Coastguard has a very good working relationship with the EU’s FRONTEX, now being rebranded as the EU Border and Coastguard Agency.28 Indeed, by one estimate, Iceland ‘came to the rescue’ of FRONTEX in 2015, given how resource poor that agency was as regards ships and aircraft.29 Iceland’s Coastguard unquestionably projected diplomatic influence way beyond what a tiny non-­EU state could normally expect. Reflecting this close partnership, which in some ways (over) compensates for the fact that official EU-­Icelandic relationships are somewhat moribund, Iceland’s Coastguard also borrowed a mid-­sized drone from the European Maritime Safety Agency (EMSA) in 2018, which suggests future trajectories for collaboration. Yet bilateral links remain also very strong and are longstanding. These range from training to technical and logistics support, notably with the Danish Navy or the Norwegian Armed Forces. Iceland is also anticipating scope for much closer trade and security relationships with a post-­Brexit UK outside the EU.30 Overall, Iceland’s coastguard continues to evolve with new helicopters likely to be ordered in 2019, although these may well be leased, as were two of the existing Pumas, because the full capital cost of larger expensive helicopters is simply prohibitive for a micro-­state. It is interesting to note, however, that although subject to a severe economic crisis, Iceland continued to invest in its Coastguard. Moreover, there are uncanny historical continuities as Iceland’s strategic importance grows in the face of a Russian naval resurgence in the Atlantic, which will see increased spending on the Keflavík airbase.31

Ireland’s Navy: recessions don’t always stop evolution! Founded in 1946, the Irish Naval Service (An tSeirbhís Chabhlaigh) was traditionally regarded as a marginal force in a country with an ‘ambiguous neutrality’ and small defence forces, dominated by a land army that emphasised overseas peacekeeping and internal security tasks. In its formative years, ex-­British corvettes or minesweepers of limited capability were the norm.32 With entry into the EEC in 1973, the Irish Navy expanded using domestically built OPVs at the Cork Verolme yard. Before it closed in 1984, a large (1900 t) vessel (P31 LE Eithne) with a helicopter hangar was delivered, although a failure to secure cooperation with Ireland’s small Air Corps meant helicopter operations were

60   Brendan Flynn later abandoned. Today, air support is provided by a mix of two Air Corps CASA 235 MPA aircraft together with commercially operated SAR helicopters, for the Irish Coastguard, a much smaller civilian force.33 Two ex-­Royal Navy Peacock class coastal OPVs joined the service in 1987, in response to IRA arms smuggling from Libya.34 The bilateral relationship with the UK remains strong therefore, with Irish naval officers receiving a part of their training with the Royal Navy. Current plans suggest these vessels will be replaced with similar ships but with some MCM capability.35 In fact, the Irish Naval Service stands out for its determination in replacing the older domestically produced OPVs. In the late 1990s, two new OPVs were ordered (P51 Róisín class) and in 2010 a class of larger OPVs (P61 Samuel Beckett class) followed. Given that Ireland was in the worst economic recession since the 1930s, this is politically remarkable. Indeed, between 2014–2018, Ireland received four of these relatively large (2300 t) OPVs from the same British yard.36 This was largely due to political and military leadership, which forged an intra-­government consensus on such investment. The first ever appointment in 2015 of the Flag Officer Commanding the Naval Service to the post of Chief of Staff likely reinforced this. However, the political exigencies of a chronic recession did dictate that the price tag for any new vessels would be limited. They are rather traditional OPV designs, lacking any helicopter deck and with few additional capabilities beyond new generation sensors and propulsion. They have almost no residual coastal defence capabilities and little by way of defensive aids. Instead, the Irish have opted for relatively straightforward seaworthy designs, which has kept the costs relatively modest at about €66 m per ship for the four Samuel Beckett class OPVs.37 That does not mean the Irish Navy had been without ambition. Since the 1990s, they have plans for a much larger expeditionary Multi-­Role Vessel, which would both replace the larger Eithne class OPV while also offering some advanced logistics and even basic amphibious capabilities. However, this procurement was summarily ditched during the recessionary years of 2008–2014. It was only resurrected with a new Defence White Paper in 2015 and remains in planning as of 2019. Such larger multi-­role vessels would seem desirable given that the Irish Naval Service has embraced expeditionary deployments: for example, in 2003 to support a large Irish Army deployment to Liberia as part of a UN peacekeeping operation38 and then, since 2015, Irish naval vessels have been seasonally deployed to the Mediterranean as part of the multi-­national humanitarian effort to cope with mass irregular migration. Originally, it appears there was some Irish intention to deploy an Irish naval ship as part of Operation Atalanta off the coast of Somalia.39 When the Irish deployed off Libyan waters instead, they did so on an ad hoc legal basis based on a bilateral understanding with Italy, only joining the EU’s Operation Sophia Command structure in late 2017.40 Ireland, as part of its neutrality sensitivities, has domestic legal requirements that require significant

From hand-me-down navies to niche players?  61 deployments of her armed forces to be under a UN mandate, and this was only secured for Operation Sophia in October 2015.41 Unlike Finland or Sweden, Ireland has not moved significantly closer to NATO, and remains formally committed to ‘non-­alignment’. One significant downside of that posture is that Irish naval forces do not participate in the numerous NATO-­sponsored exercises that are vital for improving professionalism and ensuring inter-­operability, a stated objective of the Irish Defence White Paper of 2015.42 However, there is notably greater interest in EU-­led missions and it is noteworthy that Ireland has joined the EU’s Permanent Structured Cooperation on Security and Defence (PESCO) initiative, which includes some projects on maritime security.43 The Irish Defence White Paper of 2015 highlighted the importance of the EU’s Maritime Security Strategy and Action Plan, while Irish participation in the EU’s MARSUR project has also been prioritised.44 Therefore, the Irish find in EU maritime co-­operation some of the features that are missing outside of NATO. Indeed, participation in the EU’s Operation Sophia for the Irish Naval Service has been a ‘game changer’. It has raised the public profile of the force and challenged the public and elite perception that their sole mission is merely fishery protection, which while remaining important, is clearly no longer the only focus of what has become a very ambitious small navy.

Slovenia’s Navy: how overseas deployment turns a tiny navy into a ‘player’ The Slovenian Navy, which is formally a branch of their Land Army (the ‘Naval Division’ – Mornariški Divizion), emerged out of the dissolution of Yugoslavia in 1991. Slovenia’s sea access is limited, with a coastline of under 47 km and a narrow closed sea in the form of the Gulf of Trieste. Nonetheless, sea access is strategic, with the port of Kopor vital for exports and imports.45 The need for a maritime force was therefore recognised as early as 1993.46 The Slovenians could draw on cadres from the relatively well-­equipped ex-­ Yugoslav Navy at least for personnel and expertise. However, the stress was on coastguard type functions, although the establishment of a coastguard was rejected in preference for relying on co-­ordination with port authorities, the Maritime Police and the Naval Division of the Slovenian Army. However, what this produced was a plethora of very small vessels that lacked sufficient sea-­keeping or flexibility to be effective platforms for constabulary activities at sea.47 In 1996, the UN arms embargo against former Yugoslav countries was lifted and this allowed Slovenia to buy a more capable Israeli vessel: Ankaran, a circa 50 t Super Dvora Mk2 patrol boat.48 In 2003, a volunteer professional force replaced conscription. Around this time, when EU accession was being negotiated, a maritime boundary dispute emerged between Croatia and Slovenia, which lingered on and was not resolved until 2017 via arbitration that awarded the territory to Slovenia.49 However, Croatia refuses to respect the arbitration as ‘tainted’.50 While to outsiders such rows are obscure, these disputes

62  Brendan Flynn once again reinforce the importance for small states in investing in even limited maritime capabilities to assert their rights. Double membership of both the EU and NATO followed by 2004. The overall security posture of Slovenia since then does not prioritise the maritime domain given that the primary concern is the stability of nearby Balkan countries together with a desire to make its NATO membership as substantive as is possible.51 One limitation for the Slovenian maritime force is the domination of their land army in the fight over limited fiscal resources. This was reflected as early as the 2011 official plan for the long-­term development of the Slovenian armed forces, which simply stated: ‘in the future the Slovenia Armed Forces will develop as a land force with elements of air and maritime components’.52 The more recent Strategic Defence Review (2016) also devotes attention to the need to build up the land army’s NATO standard battlegroups and does not even mention the maritime component.53 Nonetheless, in 2010, the new build Trig Lev patrol corvette (just under 400 t, a Project 10412 Svetlyak class54) was delivered from Russia in settlement of a legacy debt. This is not fitted with all the typical Russian armament but is a fast (up to 30 knots) and capable vessel. Slovenia is a good example of how a very small European state with a tiny, effectively two-­ship, ‘navy’ has been able to maximise their influence by embracing expeditionary maritime operations. First, in 2009, Slovenia deployed a number of naval personnel to the Djibouti-­based operational command of the EU Operation Atalanta anti-­piracy missions and later, in 2011, a Slovenian naval officer served on the German frigate Niedesrsachsen and at least one naval officer was rotated to Northwood (EUNAVFOR headquarters) until 2013.55 In 2013 and 2014, the Trig Lev ship participated in support of the Italian government’s Mare Nostrum operation,56 and although small (with a capacity for circa 80 on board) it played a useful role. Moreover, for Slovenia the costs of such deployments were not trivial at close to half a million Euro.57 In 2015 and again in 2016, Trig Lev was deployed off the coast of Libya as part of the EU’s Operation Sophia. While the ship was cramped, suffered engine problems and lacked a helicopter, it nonetheless played its part in its first deployment on this mission, and is credited with the rescue of over 400 migrants and removing people-­smuggling vessels from circulation.58 This contribution was neither tokenistic nor merely symbolic. It is interesting that the Slovenians deployed their limited naval capabilities as part of an EU rather than a NATO mission, but this simply reflects the operational reality that their patrol vessels, while well suited to humanitarian missions, are less relevant for the more ‘kinetic’ higher-­end spectrum of NATO coalition naval war-­fighting and contingency operations. However, none of this means that the Slovenian Navy is not interested in NATO naval exchanges and co-­operation. In fact, their diver corps has evolved its training in line with NATO doctrine and the sharing of naval intelligence has been identified as an area where Slovenia can make a contribution.59 Like many of the small states discussed here, bilateral links and training are very important.

From hand-me-down navies to niche players?   63 For example, the 2013 exercise Adrion Livex featured cooperation with the Greek Navy and in 2016 joint drills were undertaken with the very small navy of Montenegro, which has of course become NATO’s newest navy, albeit with an inherited fleet of several old ex-­Yugoslav navy vessels.

Cyprus’s Navy: from poor relation to defending a contested maritime EEZ The Cypriot Naval Command (Ναυτική Διοίκηση Κύπρου) has been shaped by the ethnic conflict that broke out in the 1960s and is now a ‘frozen’ conflict between Turkey, Cyprus and, indirectly, Greece. Turkish forces invaded Northern Cyprus in 1974 and substantial deployments remain in what has become a de facto Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus. The Greek Army also maintains a garrison in the south: the official Republic of Cyprus. While a formal defence pact between Greece and Cyprus, sometimes termed the ‘Single Defence Area Doctrine’, appears to have fallen into abeyance, defence co-­operation remains close. As recently as 2015, a Greek foreign minister revealed that a senior Cypriot National Guard officer would be integrated into the Greek General Staff.60 Cyprus also retains strong cultural, economic and political links with Russia, reflected in some arms purchases. For example, in 2006 a dozen Russian Hind combat helicopters were purchased and remain in the inventory, along with Russian tanks, delivered in the late 1990s, together with significant quantities of Russian small arms. With the increased presence of the Russia Navy as part of the Syrian Civil War, there has been speculation that Cyprus might move beyond providing routine docking facilities for Russian warships.61 Moreover, with the prospects of Turkish membership of the EU dramatically receding under the current phase of Turkish politics, the situation remains fundamentally insecure.62 From an EU perspective, it is surprising there is remarkably little commentary on any obligations to come to the aid of Cyprus in the event of hostilities with Turkish forces. Interestingly, Cyprus signed up in late 2017 for membership of the EU’s PESCO initiative, which facilitates structured defence co-­operation, including possible common funding.63 Because of these complex geopolitical tensions, Cypriot naval forces must anticipate that a real shooting war could break out with an aggressor who already occupies one-­third of their territory and is a NATO member! In fact, NATO diplomacy has been used to restrain Turkish or Greek escalations, notably in the late 1990s, over the planned procurement of Russian air defence missiles.64 In the late 1970s, Cyprus embarked on a significant military expansion. Conscription was introduced, although the length of service had been reduced.65 The Cypriot Navy underwent a modest expansion from what had been a rather weak littoral combat force centred around a medley of ex-­Second World War, Yugoslav- and Russian-­origin Motor Torpedo Boats, plus a few wooden-­hulled minesweepers. These proved largely ineffectual during the 1974 invasion.66 There was Cypriot interest in FAC, but, instead, very small vessels (circa 80 t) were ordered from France (Esterel class) in the late 1970s, and these were

64   Brendan Flynn i­nitially embargoed and sold to Greece, who later transferred them to Cyprus. The arms embargo remained a serious issue and it was only after the mid-­1980s that France was willing to supply Cyprus with modern weaponry. By the 1990s, Exocet missiles were procured but apparently only for coastal batteries and in small numbers.67 In reality, the priorities for Cypriot defence procurement have been very much ‘fixed’ by Turkish military occupation of over one-­third of the island, along a 180 km-­long ‘green’ line. This has reinforced the importance of heavy land weapon systems (tanks, mechanised transports and artillery) or air defence systems. As a result, one source has argued: ‘The Cyprus Navy remains the poor relation which has, until now, been limited to coastal patrols, but the recent acquisition of its first ocean-­going vessel has signaled the start of a new chapter.’68 In 2017, Oman gifted a circa 40-year-­old, 785 t patrol vessel, Al Mubrukah, which after refurbishment, was renamed the Alasia.69 As if to underscore the diverse geopolitical influences within Cypriot defence procurement, Israel has become a major player if not a de facto ‘ally’, although such links are perhaps more opportunistic.70 In 2015, one new Israel OPV was ordered, a modified 500 t Saar class, the Commodore Andreas Ioannides (P61). This was delivered in late 2017 with an option for a second vessel and it is wired for future integration of various missiles.71 There have also been joint military exercises between the two countries, with the most substantive common interest being the exploitation of offshore gas and oil. In summary, the Cypriot naval command has been shaped by an existential threat from a proximate aggressor state. Yet, rather than lead to investment in naval war-­fighting platforms, the naval share of national defence has been under­resourced in preference for stabilising the balance of forces on land and mitigating Turkish air superiority. What has become a ‘game-­changer’ for Cypriot naval forces is the realisation that their large EEZ requires an assertive naval presence. For that, there is no substitute for OPV vessels. While NATO membership for Cyprus is not plausible, the proxy effects of Greek and Turkish NATO membership has indirect influence. Yet, from the Cypriot perspective, NATO is not the only ‘alliance in town’: the EU, Russia, Israel and Greece are all viable associations that, although falling short of full alliance status, nonetheless provide security reassurance. Cyprus then demonstrates a mixture of the rather typical opportunism, desperation and genius of small states in seeking out de facto alliances.

Conclusion: the importance of alliances, recessions and expeditionary operations for very small navies Rather than cramped geography, stunted demography, combined with typically limited finances, this chapter has highlighted the importance of other ‘variables’ for the navies of very small European states. What first stands out is the importance of alliances such as NATO or de facto surrogates, such as the EU, although the EU does not (yet) offer a guarantee of

From hand-me-down navies to niche players?  65 mutual defence like NATO’s Article 5. It is also the case that the EU’s capabilities are more focused on the lighter maritime security role, whereas arguably it is only NATO (or some ad hoc coalition of the larger navies) that has credible naval coalition war-­fighting capabilities. Yet, what small state navies want is institutional scaffolding for co-­operation, technical assistance and, in extremis, military aid. For all of these small state navies, participation in alliance type structures is arguably central to their operations, procurement and organisational culture. They are no longer simply the navies of small states, but part of a wider pool of maritime security allies. They no longer think small, limited to ‘their coastal’ waters, but are eager for participation in EU or NATO operations to enhance their status, relevance and profile. Relatedly, a second observation is how expeditionary operations have been an enabler for these small states’ navies, notably Ireland, Slovenia and Iceland. Latvia and Cyprus have not participated, mainly because they lack suitable ships, the multi-­purpose OPV proving to confer advantages in being a flexible vessel. Such missions provide vital international operational experience. They raise the profile and status of the navy in question both domestically and internationally. They may also justify new roles, vessels and investments. For very small European navies, anti-­piracy or humanitarian rescue missions are arguably more important than for the navies of the great powers, who may come to view such roles as distracting from core sea-­combat capabilities, which they at least can afford. This partly explains why very small navies will, in relative terms, deploy a significant percentage of their available vessels and personnel. A third observation is that a few small state navies face tangible security threats to their territory (Latvia/Russia and Cyprus/Turkey). For them, alliances are critical. In the case of Cyprus, a strategy of informal alliance has evolved, first with Greece and now even with Israel. Latvia has followed the rationale of niche specialism within NATO to its logical conclusion and offers a very capable MCM pool of ships and expertise, but conversely has no organic littoral sea denial capability of its own. Arguably, the result is that Latvia’s navy is ‘over niched’. In this case, we see perhaps the negative side of alliances, which can constrain very small state navies into particular operational niches. Within NATO there has emerged a significant ‘trade’ in second-­hand ships, with Poland, Bulgaria and Romania receiving vessels. The psychological lure of an impressive frigate/destroyer from one of the larger navies is powerful, but might not smaller coastal combat platforms or multi-­role new OPVs prove more relevant or economic? Also intriguing from a strategic perspective is how land and air forces have dominated the limited budgets available for both Cyprus and Latvia. Investment in more ‘kinetic’ naval platforms is not really a feature. Psychologically, this is understandable given the proximity of land threats, however, it seems at variance with the orthodoxy of a balanced joint force structure. Instead of buying fancy and expensive FAC (de rigueur 40 years ago), these very small navies tend to be remarkably conservative. They spend what limited

66  Brendan Flynn funds they have on that stalwart of the small state navy, the OPV, or at smaller tonnage, the patrol boat. There is much less evidence of embracing new technologies such as drones (which are generally not cheap). Rather than a picture of ‘small and smart’ navies, one sees here ‘small, technologically conservative but operationally ambitious’ navies. Neither is there evidence of these small navies exploring radical asymmetric naval doctrines or forces, apart from small cadres of special forces, typically divers. They emphatically favour conventional maritime forces and there is no attempt to emulate Iran’s Revolutionary Guard Naval Corps,72 or China’s maritime militia.73 The small state navies studied here are then unquestionably constabulary navies, with no great pretense of having sea denial capabilities, although it is important to note that some European small state navies are focused on littoral war-­fighting, for example Croatia or Finland are investing in new corvettes or missiles. Yet, while the Irish Naval Service is ambitious to expand, this is not as regards developing kinetic capabilities. Cyprus is keen to have credible OPVs, but these are not (yet) heavily armed. It is notable that in some cases these services are actually styled as a Coastguard (Iceland), integrate the same (Latvia) or de facto carry out such functions among a complex weave of other maritime actors (Slovenia, Cyprus). Also relevant here is the type of waters and the size of EEZ. It is notable that both Ireland and Iceland have favoured brand new and larger OPV vessels, whereas Latvia, Slovenia and Cyprus operate in either closed or calmer seas and can employ smaller vessels. One contrast between these very small state navies was how austerity impacted. Unexpectedly, in the case of Ireland and Iceland, new ships were ordered in the midst of severe budget cuts. Cyprus, which is just recovering from an economic crisis, also found significant funds to purchase their first OPV. However, in the case of Latvia and Slovenia, there were significant cut-­backs which has limited new procurements. How fiscal crises impact on a given small state is highly contingent on domestic political priorities and variables. If local elites consider navies essential, they will find the minimum required for some sort of constabulary capability at sea. It is unclear if the ‘expeditionary turn’ described here will be sustained or lead to new procurements and capabilities. While NATO and the EU have both benefited from their disproportionate albeit small contributions, there is little evidence of a structured attempt to help such small navies evolve further. While some EEC monies were directed in the 1970s to fund fishery protection vessels for the Irish Naval Service,74 or more recently for Malta, under the EU’s External Borders Fund, to help procure new patrol boats and aircraft,75 more robust EU fiscal support could be used to explore ambitious projects such as providing a shared pool of maritime drones. Nor is NATO exploring potential to transfer surplus FAC to Latvia or other small state navies in the frontline of renewed Russian activity. In the end, then, all these small states face a core dilemma: their ambitions and operational demands are growing but their economic means, manpower and

From hand-me-down navies to niche players?   67 scale are limited. Logically, this should prod them towards more collaborative and joint maritime security initiatives, but such projects are for now relatively few. Of course, the bigger lesson here is unquestionably positive: very small European navies can be effective providers of maritime security, depending on how well they employ their small number of resources. This follows the adage of ‘playing well the cards you’re dealt’, providing by the way also a neat riposte to Stalin’s dismissal of small states.

Notes   1 As quoted in W. S. Churchill, The Gathering Storm (New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1948), 121.   2 Basil Germond, ‘Small navies in perspective: deconstructing the hierarchy of naval forces’ in Small Navies Strategy and Policy for Small Navies in War and Peace (Farnham: Ashgate, 2014).   3 Jorri Duursma, Fragmentation and the International Relations of Micro-­states: Self-­ determination and Statehood (Cambridge: CUP, 1996), 2.   4 See UN/DESA (2017), ‘World Population Prospects 2017’, available at: https://esa. un.org/unpd/wpp/ (accessed on 8 March 2019).   5 Wouter P. Veenendaal and Jack Corbett, ‘Why small states offer important answers to large questions’ Comparative Political Studies 48, no.  4 (2015): 527–549; Iver B. Neumann and Sieglinde Gstöhl, ‘Lilliputians in Gulliver’s World: Small States in International Relations’ University of Iceland Centre for Small State Studies Working Paper (2004): 1–25.   6 Hans Kopp, ‘The “Rule of the Sea”: Thucydidean Concept or Periclean Utopia?’ in Thucydides and Political Order: Concepts of Order and the History of the Peloponnesian War, eds. by Christiaonn R. Thauer and Christian Wendt (London: Palgrave MacMillan, 2016), 129–149.   7 Carolina Vendil Pallin et al., ‘Russia’s war in Georgia: lessons and consequences’ Small Wars & Insurgencies 20, no. 2 (2009): 406.   8 Ian Anthony, The Naval Arms Trade (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 28–29.   9 IISS/The International Institute for Strategic Studies, The Military Balance 117, 1 (London: Routledge and IISS, 2017), 132. 10 Juozas Alsauskas, ‘The Baltic Naval Squadron, BALTRON’ Baltic Defence Review 2000, no. 3 (2000): 33–37. 11 Alexander Lanoszka and Michael A. Hunzeker, ‘Confronting the Anti-­Access/Area Denial and Precision Strike Challenge in the Baltic Region’ The RUSI Journal 161, no. 5 (2016): 12–18. 12 Martin Murphy and Gary Schaub Jr., ‘Sea of Peace or Sea of War – Russian Maritime Hybrid Warfare in the Baltic Sea’ Naval War College Review 71, no. 2 (2018): 1–26. 13 Nicholas Fiorenza, ‘Beefing up the Baltics’ Janes Defence Weekly 331 (2017). (Accessed 12 March 2019). 14 Figure 5.2 above; Raimonds Rublovskis, ‘Latvian Security and Defense Policy within the Twenty-­First Century Security Environment’ Lithuanian Annual Strategic Review 12, no. 1 (2014): 173–188. 15 Piotr Szymański, ‘The Multi-­Speed Baltic States: reinforcing the Defence Capabilities of Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia’ OSW Studies no.  68, August, (Warsaw: OSW, 2017), 14. 16 Ibid. 17 Szymański, ‘The Multi-­Speed Baltic States: reinforcing the Defence Capabilities of Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia’ 10.

68   Brendan Flynn 18 Donald J. Stoker, ‘Undermining the Cordon Sanitaire: Naval Arms Sales and Anglo-­ French competition in Latvia, 1924–1925’ Journal of Baltic Studies 28, no. 2 (1997): 171–180. 19 Flugblogger, ‘Help from Above: What Icelandic Coastguard Struggles for’ Flugblogg Blog, 15 March 2018. Available at: http://flugblogg.is/2018/03/15/help-­from-above-­ what-icelandic-­сoast-guard-­struggles-for/?lang=en (accessed 8 March 2019). 20 Lorenzo di Striuli, ‘Islanda: si allontana I’ipotesi d’istituzione di Forze Armate nazionali’ RID/Rivista Italiana Difesa, no 5, Maggio, 2010, 68. 21 GuÐmundur J. GuÐmundsson, ‘The Cod and the Cold War’ Scandinavian Journal of History 31, no. 2 (2006), 108. 22 Baldur Thorhallsson, ‘A small state in world politics: Iceland’s search for shelter’ Icelandic Review of Politics and Administration 14, no. 1 (2018): 61–82. 23 See: www.lhg.is/english/varnarmal/ (accessed 8 March 2019). 24 Naval Today, ‘UK Navy Divers Challenge Each Other in Iceland’ Naval Today Blog, 31 October 2014. Available at: https://navaltoday.com/2014/10/31/uk-­navy-divers-­ challenge-each-­other-in-­iceland/ (accessed 8 March 2019). 25 Naval Today, ‘Anti-­submarine warfare exercise Dynamic Mongoose concludes in North Atlantic’ Naval Today Blog 9 July 2017. Available at: https://navaltoday. com/2017/07/09/anti-­submarine-warfare-­exercise-dynamic-­mongoose-concludes-­innorth-­atlantic/ (accessed 8 March 2019). 26 IMoFA/Iceland Ministry of Foreign Affairs, ‘NATO Exercise Trident Juncture 2018 in Iceland’ 24 October 2018. Available at: www.government.is/news/ article/2018/10/24/NATO-­Exercise-Trident-­Juncture-2018-in-­Iceland-/ (accessed 8 March 2019). 27 Thorhallsson, ‘A small state in world politics: Iceland’s search for shelter’ 63. 28 Arne Niemann and Johanna Speyer, ‘A Neofunctionalist Perspective on the “European Refugee Crisis”: The Case of the European Border and Coast Guard’ Journal of Common Market Studies 56, no. 1 (2018): 23–43. 29 Nick Mathiason et al., ‘Frontex resource limitations put agency in straitjacket’ EU Observer, 15 September 2015. 30 Thorhallsson, ‘A small state in world politics: Iceland’s search for shelter’ 76. 31 Megan Eckstein, ‘Iceland embracing its strategic location by supporting NATO air defense’ United States Naval Institute (USNI) News, 24 October 2018. Available at: https://news.usni.org/2018/10/24/iceland-­embracing-its-­strategic-location-­thoughsupporting-­nato-air-­defense-hosting-­us-planes (accessed 8 March 2019). 32 Padhraic Ó Confhaola, ‘The Naval Forces of the Irish State, 1922–1977’ (PhD diss., National University Ireland, Maynooth, 2009), 81–141. 33 See www.dttas.ie/maritime/english/about-­irish-coast-­guard-0 (accessed 8 March 2019). 34 Brendan Flynn, ‘The Dog That’s Not Barked? Understanding the Maritime Logistics of Insurgencies and Terrorists Campaigns’ Irish Defence Forces Review 17 (2017): 33–39. 35 IDoD/(Irish) Department of Defence, White Paper on Defence (Dublin: Department of Defence, August 2015), 67–68. 36 Appledore/Babcock Marine in Devon. 37 See: https://merrionstreet.ie/en/News-­Room/Releases/Minister_Kehoe_announces_ George_Bernard_Shaw_as_chosen_name_for_new_Offshore_Patrol_Vessel_OPV_ for_the_Naval_Service.html (accessed 8 March 2019). 38 Cathal Power, ‘Naval Support of Recce Mission’ An Cosantóir, 64, no. 3, (2004): 14–15. 39 Don Lavery, ‘Ireland may join EU mission to help fight Somali pirates’ Irish Independent, 18 March 2012. Available at: www.independent.ie/irish-­news/ireland-­mayjoin-­eu-mission-­to-help-­fight-somali-­pirates-26833335.html (accessed 8 March 2019).

From hand-me-down navies to niche players?   69 40 Peter Murtagh and Fiach Kelly, ‘Irish Navy to join EU migrant search-­and-rescue operation: Our Mediterranean missions currently based on an arrangement with the Italian government’ The Irish Times, Monday, 10 July 2017. Available at: www.irishtimes.com/news/ireland/irish-­news/irish-­navy-to-­join-eu-­migrant-search-­and-rescue-­ operation-1.3148771 (accessed 8 March 2019). 41 Thierry Tardy, ‘Operation Sophia’s World-­Changes and Challenges’ EUISS (European Union Institute for Security Studies) Issue Brief, no.  32, 27 November 2017. Available at: www.iss.europa.eu/sites/default/files/EUISSFiles/Brief%2032%20 Operation%20Sophia_0.pdf. 42 IDoD/(Irish) Department of Defence, White Paper on Defence, 64–65. 43 Brendan Flynn, ‘PESCO and the challenges of multilateral defence co-­operation for Ireland: more of the same or sea-­change?’ Irish Studies in International Affairs, 29 (2018): 73–95. 44 IDoD/(Irish) Department of Defence, White Paper on Defence, 28; 62. For details of the MARSUR project, see: www.eda.europa.eu/what-­we-do/activities/activities-­ search/maritime-­surveillance-(marsur) (accessed 8 March 2019) and http://marsur. info/start.php (accessed 8 March 2019). 45 Ivan Žnidar, ‘Transformation challenges to safety and security at Slovenian sea’ Contemporary Military Challenges 17, no. 4 (2015): 74; 68. 46 Žnidar, ‘Transformation challenges to safety and security at Slovenian sea’ 67. 47 Žnidar, ‘Transformation challenges to safety and security at Slovenian sea’ 68. 48 See: www.slovenskavojska.si/en/armament-­and-equipment/naval-­equipment-and-­ vessels/rapid-­patrol-boat-­super-dvora-­mk-2/?print=1&no_cache=1 (accessed 8 March 2019). 49 Damir Arnaut, ‘Stormy waters on the way to the high seas: the case of the territorial sea delimitation between Croatia and Slovenia’ Ocean and Coastal Law Journal 8, no.  1 (2002): 21–70; Matko Ilic. ‘Croatia V. Slovenia: The Defiled Proceedings’ Arbitration Law Review 9, no. 1 (2017); 347–382. 50 See: www.euractiv.com/section/enlargement/news/croatia-­and-slovenia-­continuemaritime-­dispute-after-­arbitration-ruling/ (accessed 8 March 2019). 51 Branko Podbrežnik, ‘Participation of the Slovenian Armed Forces in International Operations and Missions in the light of the foreign policy of the Republic of Slovenia’ Contemporary Military Challenges 17, no. 4 (2015): 81. 52 SMoD/Slovenian Ministry of Defence, Resolution of General Long-­Term Development and Equipping Programme of the Slovenian Armed Forces up to 2025 (Ljubljana: SMoD, 2011), 32. 53 SMoD/Slovenian Ministry of Defence, Conclusions of the Strategic Defence Review 2016 (Ljubljana: SMoD, 2016), 6. 54 See for more details: http://roe.ru/eng/catalog/naval-­systems/surface-­ships-ships-­andboats/svetlyak (accessed 8 March 2019). 55 SMoD/Slovenian Ministry of Defence, Annual Report of The Ministry of Defence for 2013 (Ljubljana: SMoD, 2014), 17. 56 Andrej Osterman, ‘Republic of Slovenia in NATO –Slovenian Armed Forces ten years later’ Contemporary Military Challenges 16, no. 3 (2014): 50. 57 T.M. Sta, ‘Slovenian Navy in Action on Sicily Today’ The Slovenian Times, 15 December 2013. Available at: www.sloveniatimes.com/uropaan-­navy-in-­action-on-­ sicily-today (accessed 8 March 2019). 58 Naval Today, ‘Slovenian patrol ship departs EUNAVFOR’s Op Sophia’ Naval Today Blog, 14 March 2016. Available at https://navaltoday.com/2016/03/14/uropaan-­patrolship-­departs-eunavfors-­op-sophia/ (accessed 8 March 2019). 59 Žnidar, ‘Transformation challenges to safety and security at Slovenian sea’ 65. 60 A. Makris, ‘Defense Minister Underlines Greece’s Support for Cyprus’ Greek Report, 11 February 2015. Available at: http://greece.greekreporter.com/2015/02/11/defense-­ minister-underlines-­greeces-support-­for-cyprus/ (accessed 8 March 2019).

70   Brendan Flynn 61 See for an example of such speculation: www.bbc.com/news/world-­europe-31632259 (accessed 8 March 2019). 62 Tozun Bahcheli, ‘Cyprus 1974: Turkey’s Military Success Followed by Political Stalemate’ Mediterranean Quarterly 25, no. 1 (2014): 6–21. 63 See: http://cyprus-­mail.com/2017/11/13/greater-­protection-cyprus-­joins-eu-­defencepact/ (accessed 8 March 2019). 64 Stratis Andreas Efthymiou, ‘Militarism in post-­war Cyprus: the development of the ideology of Defence’ Defence Studies 16, no. 4 (2016): 419. 65 Since 2016, National Guard service is 14 months duration. 66 John Hughes-­Wilson, ‘The Forgotten War’ The RUSI Journal 156, no.  5 (2011): 87; 42. 67 One source suggests three launching units with 24 missiles. See: www.armedforces. co.uk/Europeandefence/edcountries/countrycyprus.htm (accessed 8 March 2019). 68 Andreas Izamis, ‘National Guard uneasy under fire’ In Cyprus, 4 June 2017. Available at: www.newsincyprus.com/news/77274/national-­guard-uneasy-­under-fire (accessed 16 April 2019). 69 See: http://seawaves.com/2017/02/15/cyprus-­commissioned-ex-­omani-patrol-­ship/ (accessed 8 March 2019) and also see https://cyprus-­mail.com/2017/02/14/gifted-­ omani-vessel-­christened-larnaca-­ceremony/ (accessed 8 March 2019). 70 Zenonas Tziarras, ‘Israel–Cyprus–Greece: a “comfortable” quasi-­alliance,’ Mediterranean Politics 21, no. 3 (2016): 407–27. 71 Igor Bozinovski, ‘Cyprus boosts maritime capabilities with first offshore patrol vessel’ Janes Navy International, 16 January 2018. Available at: www.janes.com/ article/77080/uropa-­boosts-maritime-­capabilities-with-­first-offshore-­patrol-vessel (accessed 8 March 2019). 72 Gawdat Bahgat and Anoushiravan Ehteshami, ‘Iran’s Defense Strategy: The Navy, Ballistic Missiles and Cyberspace’ Middle East Policy 24, no. 3 (2017): 93–94. 73 Andrew S. Erickson and Conor M. Kennedy, China’s Maritime Militia (Washington, DC: Center for Naval Analysis, 2016). Available at www.cna.org/cna_files/pdf/ Chinas-­Maritime-Militia.pdf (accessed 16 April 2019). 74 Ó Confhaola, ‘The Naval Forces of the Irish State, 1922–1977’ 148, fn.362. 75 See: https://ec.europa.eu/home-­affairs/content/external-­borders-fund-­ebf-malta_en (accessed 12 March 2019).

6 Small navies and naval warfare in the Baltic Sea region Niklas Granholm

Introduction: towards a more challenging naval and maritime strategic environment An increasingly frosty international defence and security climate now follows on from a long period where major inter-­state war was seen as a thing of the past.1 This has led to a need for refocusing of the tasks and orientation of naval, military and security forces. The direction is clear and present in most Western European nations where the resources for naval and military security are seen as inadequate. The post-­Cold War optimism led to an interregnum with substantial drawdown of naval and military spending, readiness and numbers. A near-­ exclusive focus on crisis management, peace-­ support and counter-­ terrorism operations followed. Today, long-­term global trends point to an ongoing large-­scale redistribution of power and influence in the international system, while the multilateral organisational framework set up to manage various common issues is struggling, making the post-­1945 and post-­1990 orders look shaky. Internal crises in the West manifested in populist protest and revolt add to this picture. The Western world seems to be out of step with the fast-­moving global strategic change. The debate on how to address the many gaps and shortfalls is extensive.2 Russia’s invasion and annexation of Crimea in 2014 and the ongoing Russian­supported war against Ukraine has increased geopolitical tension between Russia and the ‘West’ even further. As a consequence of this rude awakening, the states in the Nordic and Baltic Sea region again see that armed conflict in the region cannot be ruled out. A recent example of this is the new guidelines for the Nordic Defence Cooperation (NORDEFCO), adopted by the Ministers of Defence from the five Nordic states. Building on the Memorandum of Understanding from 2009, NORDEFCO now aims to substantially improve the existing defence cooperation of the Nordics in peacetime, crisis and conflict.3 One of the main concerns for much of the defence and security debate in the Nordic–Baltic region centres around variants of an open conflict with Russian operations towards one or more of the three Baltic States. The aim would be for a negation of Western security guarantees by expanding a Russian zone of influence and control in the Baltic Sea region. The methods used in such a conflict

72  Niklas Granholm would be broad-­ranging and are often termed ‘Hybrid warfare’, ‘new warfare’ or ‘full spectrum conflict’.4 These methods are linked to a development where the line between crisis and open conflict has been deliberately blurred. What is new is that many of these methods are employed so as not to trigger a reaction that might lead to armed conflict, while still furthering Russia’s overarching goal of increasing its influence over the region. Efforts to strengthen defences and enhance security are underway in the face of an increasing threat. In the naval and maritime field, lead-­times are long and capital-­intensive and little has so far happened. The economies of the nations in the Nordic–Baltic region have developed rapidly in the past decades and all are extremely dependent on seaborne trade. The efficient just-­in-time systems of production and distribution are vulnerable. An aggressor that aims for disruption of these complex and fragile supply lines, while keeping the confrontation just below the boiling point, would constitute a serious threat to the economies and societies in the region.5 Given the multilateral nature of the naval and maritime defence problems outlined above, there is a clear need for enhanced cooperative efforts – within and between states in the region and with states beyond – to address emerging defence and security problems. Elsewhere, other challenges to the wider maritime situation still persist. Protection of seaborne trade, refugee flows and state-­on-state confrontation extending into the maritime arena, generate demand for operations beyond the Nordic and Baltic Sea region. Navies of the Nordic–Baltic region are in this respect what Geoffrey Till terms post-­modern, in that they depend on a ‘good order at sea’ that enables their societies and economies to prosper.6 The implication is that the ‘home-­game’, as well as the ‘away-­game’, matter for naval operations, not least in support of a globalised system of trade. The uses of the sea are also changing.7 Ever more use of the seabed for telecommunication cables, wind power installations and significantly increased shipping, adds on the pressure. Energy and mineral extraction, harvesting of biological organisms and climate change leading to higher sea levels, are factors affecting the role of the sea.

Aim of this chapter Given the trends in global and regional security with a focus on the naval and maritime domain outlined above, the main aim of this chapter presents itself as an attempt to answer three main questions: • • •

How could navies and maritime security forces in the wider Baltic Sea region be better organised, structured and equipped in order to counter and manage disruptions in a grey-­zone conflict scenario? How could the naval defence problems of the Nordic–Baltic Sea region be addressed given that the risk of an open high-­end conflict has returned? How could various cooperative efforts in the maritime arena address current vulnerabilities?

Small navies and naval warfare in the Baltic Sea region  73 To answer these questions, a conceptual framework is used, supported by two scenarios to illustrate the challenges. A description of the Baltic Sea region and technological developments complements the scenarios. This leads to a discussion and conclusions.

Background and conceptual framework In many nations today, particularly in Western Europe, the role and function of navies is seen as vague. In some policy-­making circles, navies are often seen as the odd-­man-out in defence and security, and as something less than essential for national survival, security and prosperity over the longer term. The term sea-­ blindness is often used to capture policy-­makers’ lack of interest in and understanding of the role of sea, where access to it and its uses is often taken for granted. This trend has been accentuated in the past two decades, when war between major powers was thought to be a thing of the past. The role of navies changed with the end of the Cold War, mainly in two ways. First, the size of navies shrunk substantially since there was no perceived need for their size and structure.8 In Europe, the perceived peace-­dividend was cashed in and funds reallocated. Second, navies redirected much of their operational focus from preparation for high-­end naval warfare in a Cold-­War setting towards constabulary operations, counter-­piracy operations and naval diplomacy. The result is that many navies in Western Europe today are out of step with the trends in strategic affairs, in capabilities, numbers and readiness. Recently, the focus has again shifted towards challenging grey-­zone operations and naval high-­end warfare. The use of the sea is also changing. One result is that the nature and scale of the threat to global seaborne trade security, coupled with intensifying exploitation of resources of the sea, threatens a ‘good order at sea’. The current combination of dynamics presents states with a unique set of circumstances in formulating naval and maritime policy.9 At one end of the scale, a blend of threats to seaborne trade emanate from weak or failed coastal states leading to threats of piracy and robbery while, at the other end, a danger of high-­end conflict looms from rising states with great-­power ambitions, wishing to expand their control and writ over and beyond their exclusive economic zones.10 A conceptual model for analysing the role of navies is suggested by Ken Booth in his book Navies and Foreign Policy.11 A diplomatic, military and policing role of navies is broadly related to the use of the sea for three main purposes: • • •

the passage of goods and people the passage of military force for diplomatic purposes, or for use against targets on land or at sea the exploitation of resources in or under the sea.

Booth underlines that navies exist ‘…as a means to further such ends’. In other words, they are a tool for a broader and more general maritime policy of a state.

74  Niklas Granholm The structure, size and tasks of navies should thus not be taken for granted – navies always have to motivate their existence and the associated state expenditure. The use of force – the military role of navies – is conducted both in peace and in war.12 The balance of power-­role in peacetime includes nuclear strategic deterrence, conventional deterrence and defence, extended deterrence, which includes protection of national activities on the high seas and wartime tasks in distant waters. Included in this is also the support for a recognised international law of the sea. The policing role is where the traditional coastguard tasks and also internal and international nation-­building, i.e. stabilisation of civil society and contribution to internal development, belongs. The diplomatic role concerns negotiation from strength by reassurance of friends and allies, changing the behaviour of friendly governments when these are facing attack, crisis management, the threat of use of force to support national policy and improving bargaining positions in a negotiation. Prestige also forms part of the diplomatic role; by providing psychological reassurance for the home country and projecting a favourable general image of one’s own country that can have positive effects in the long term. Booth’s model has several advantages when analysing a naval policy and the roles that navies play in national policy. The first is that its comprehensiveness allows for describing almost any navy’s role in a comparative perspective. Second, the organisation, focus and description of roles also makes it possible to follow a specific navy over time. How is it organised and where does its place its main effort? How does it change over time? What has been forgotten or is not prioritised? Booth’s model has limits through its chosen perspective due to its somewhat narrow empirical input. From the case studies of the Royal Navy in the First and Second World Wars, can we thereby assume that the British naval experience is valid for all navies? Great Britain’s imperial experience as a former global naval power has undoubtedly coloured its traditions and thinking on navies. Other nations have different but sometimes overlapping experiences that influence their thinking and process on the role of navies. National perspectives on naval affairs differ, which in this context is a weakness in Booth’s conceptual model. Despite this critique, the set of roles that Booth sets out provides a sufficiently precise tool for the purposes of this analysis. As a part of a conceptual support for a discussion on solutions to naval and maritime problems facing several states in the Nordic–Baltic Sea region, it serves its purpose.

The Baltic Sea region The economically vibrant Baltic Sea region, with a steadily increasing seaborne trade but with a historical legacy of competition and of war, is now facing a worsening security climate. The region with its surrounding seas is increasingly seen as one strategic space. The implications are clear: it is no longer possible – if it ever was – to have confrontation or open conflict in one part of the region

Small navies and naval warfare in the Baltic Sea region  75 while peace reigns in another. Figure 6.1 shows the complex geography of the Baltic Sea region. Around the Baltic Sea region, about 110 million people live and are dependent on the sea for transport, supply, trade and recreation. The shipping operations in and out of the Baltic Sea make it one of the most densely operated seas in the world today. Around 1500 IMO ships are present in the Baltic Sea region at any given time.13 Analysis of future growth of shipping project an increase of general cargo, container and volume of oil to increase by around two­thirds in the next ten years.14 A geographic and oceanographic description of the Baltic Sea region shows a confined, congested and shallow sea. The oceanography varies from open coastlines to complex and shallow archipelagos, from sandy seabeds and beaches to rugged rocks and narrow channels. While the Baltic is not tidal and lacks strong currents, the hydrographic conditions of this brackish and confined sea varies seasonally as does the ice-­cover during winter. The sea state is often characterised by short and choppy wave patterns, while the length of day and night also varies considerably with the seasons, from near constant daylight in summer to very short days in winter. These varying conditions present any mariner venturing into the region – be they civilian or military – with a set of serious challenges. International treaties partly regulate sea traffic and military conditions in the Baltic Sea region. The Öresund treaty of 1857 and UNCLOS of 1982 mean that

Figure 6.1 The Baltic Sea, the Baltic States, Kattegat, Skagerrak and part of the North Sea.

76  Niklas Granholm the Danish straits and Öresund strait are regarded as international straits allowing innocent passage. The Åland Islands are demilitarised since the end of the Crimean War in 1856 and subsequently under a League of Nations-­brokered agreement of 1921. History is also present in other ways. Two world wars led to extensive laying of sea-­mines in the Baltic Sea, Skagerrak and Kattegat.15 Many of these mines remain in place or have drifted and still constitute a threat. After the Second World War, chemical munitions were dumped at sea, sometimes in the same areas. These remnants of war occasionally turn up in or near SLoC or are caught in fishermen’s nets. This will remain one focus of continuous operations for many decades to come.

Technological developments affecting the regional setup The long-­range weapon systems deployed in the region have led to an extensive debate on whether an ‘A2/AD-­ bubble’ substantially changes the offensive-­ defensive relationships in an open conflict.16 Initially, one side of the debate argued that a near-­impregnable bubble is created that makes operations within their range too risky. If these systems are deployed further to the west in the region, the aggressor would be successful.17 Other analysts have reached different conclusions. They argue that the lethality and effective range of these systems are much less than advertised, due to design, technical capabilities, connectedness, numbers and physical conditions, which limit their real capability. Moreover, these A2/AD-­systems can be countered by a wide set of countermeasures, which could further degrade their effectiveness, e.g. by saturating the systems with decoys or by cutting the link between sensor and shooter.18 There are thus questions surrounding the efficiency of the A2/AD-­systems in an open conflict. The A2/AD debate has shifted from a near consensus of an almost impregnable system, often based on Russian claims, to something that can be managed with countermeasures, offensive capabilities and tactics. Underwater technologies have also taken great leaps forward since the end of the Cold War.19 The development of more advanced sonars and underwater sensors have run in parallel with development of increasingly silent underwater vehicles and smaller conventional submarines with significantly longer endurance. Sensor technology has also increasingly come to be ‘networked’. Unmanned, increasingly independent and intelligent underwater systems also form part of the picture. Development of nodes of communication between underwater vehicles and submarines and communication networks on the seabed will also affect the operational pattern. A system of systems is developing, from which both NATO-­nations and Russia can take advantage. These technological trends have an impact on classic underwater confrontation and combat. For the aggressor with underwater combat systems with all components fully operational (technology, platforms, tactical concepts, training, personnel, etc.), the advantage of stealth in combination with improved communications could open up an ‘underwater autostrada’. This could lead to a functional extension of its sub-­ surface territory being created already before the outbreak of open hostilities.

Small navies and naval warfare in the Baltic Sea region  77 For the defender, the same technologies can be used to detect and attack an opposing force. What might result is an operational-­level decoupling between classic notions of ASW and Anti-­Surface Warfare. While all is seemingly calm on the surface, underneath a largely hidden and intense confrontation is ongoing.

Using scenarios To illustrate the nature of perceived threats outlined above and discuss current and projected force structures in a constructed environment, two scenarios are used: • •

just below the boiling point high-­end warfare.

In the naval and maritime realm, scenarios can be used as tools as a basis for a discussion of future naval and maritime force structures and indicate future ship and unit design. Scenarios can then be used as a basis for dynamic games to test current and future force structures and help broaden the scope of possibilities. Employed this way, they can provide new insights and serve as a basis for further analysis. Scenarios are, however, neither prognoses nor predictions. All too often scenario-­based games are used predictively, above and beyond the specific conditions that they were designed to examine. Awareness of this is crucial in a highly competitive planning environment for future force structures, with ambitious individuals, strong vested interests and near-­chronic shortage of funds. The outcome of scenario-­based games thus run the risk of being used as argumentative brick-­bats in a wider defence and security debate or in a zero-­sum budget game. This is another reason why games should be used with some caution. The two scenarios used in this chapter are written with a limited ambition. The intention behind the scenarios is to contribute to a discussion on naval and maritime security problems in the Nordic–Baltic region. Taken together with Booth’s model of what navies are for and the overview of strategic dynamics, the scenarios provide a basis for answers to the research questions in this chapter.

Scenario 1: Just below the boiling point In this scenario, Russia uses a low-­key approach where a broad set of measures are applied.20 This is done with a mid- to long-­term perspective and the level of aggression varies in intensity, by sector and geographical focus. The actor behind the measures is deliberately hidden or opaque.21 The operational aim of the aggressor is to do damage to economic life by disturbing seaborne trade, stressing and preferably exhausting naval and maritime security forces and signalling that resistance is futile. The long-­term goal is to create conditions favourable for a later high-­end conflict or a weakening of the

78  Niklas Granholm targeted societies by sowing doubt and division. Creating a feeling of vulnerability that cannot be addressed aims to lower morale. This in turn will create conditions more favourable for political pressure in order to ‘soften up’ an adversary for later physical attack, if deemed feasible or necessary. The economies of the Nordic–Baltic region are vulnerable to this type of pressure, due to their high-­level of modernity, efficiency, integration and with their very high degree of import and export dependence. About eight- to nine-­ tenths of all goods are imported and exported over the sea. The just-­in-time model of production where intermediate goods are timed to arrive as precisely as possible in order to minimise the need for storage space is highly efficient from a corporate-­economic perspective. It is further organised in complex production chains so that a partial assembly of a product takes place in one country, then being shipped to another for final assembly. The just-­in-time model of production is as efficient as it is vulnerable to several forms of disruption. Adding to that, stores of foodstuffs, fuel, energy, fertilisers, medicines etc., have been similarly slimmed. The dependence on IT-­ systems for planning and distribution, as well as financial transactions, are similarly vulnerable.22 On the seabed, telecommunication cables where vital information is passed could become targets for disruption. Already, short interruptions – physical and/or virtual – would quickly hurt economies and societies in the Nordic–Baltic region. The dependence on the sea for this production-­ model and by extension the entire functionality of societies to continue to operate is crucial. In a grey-­zone attack, ports could be subjected to physical sabotage, slowing or stopping entry and exit through narrow channels. The threat of sea-­mines – a historical legacy from the Second World War – leading to recurring mine-­ clearing operations could be used by an aggressor in a grey-­zone attack by augmenting the threat of mines in various ways. This would be disruptive to shipping and lead to closing of ports while mine-­clearance operations are undertaken. The mere threat of mines also forces naval and maritime security forces to investigate, consuming scarce resources and causing costly delays to shipping. There could also be attempts to instigate industrial action, using real or imagined work-­place grievances. Work stoppages would be disruptive and costly, due to the just-­in-time-­production model. Cyberattacks could be used to target distribution systems for trucks, containers, ship supplies and bunker oil to cause delays that the current system can ill afford.23 Physical interference and recurring sabotage of lane-­markers, lighthouses, port facilities, pilotage and other infrastructure would be another method. Further out to sea, measures to cause hazards to mariners can be employed. Sabotage that causes on-­board fires or engine failure, deliberate collisions or incidents between ships and acts of piracy or armed robbery at sea could form part of methods used. The resulting effects would be to cause hazards to mariners and disrupt shipping operations at sea with considerably higher insurance and freight rates as a follow-­on effect.

Small navies and naval warfare in the Baltic Sea region  79 Psychological methods might also form part of the below-the-boiling-pointscenario. By attempting to depict the relevant naval and maritime authorities as inadequate, incompetent or amateurish, unable to protect and secure shipping in the region, credibility would be undermined over the longer time. The methods outlined above are just a few examples of a wide range that can be employed, in parallel, in sequence and with gradual levels of intensity over a long time-­period.24 Of central importance is that all actions undertaken are ‘just below the boiling point’ and ambiguous in order to complicate analysis and assessment for the defending naval and maritime security forces, in order to avoid triggering actions that might lead to escalation into open conflict. To summarise, the methods employed as part of conflicts in the past decade, often described as hybrid-­warfare, grey-­zone warfare or ‘new warfare’, present an attractive set of methods for an aggressor that can be employed with good effect to the seas and archipelagos of the Nordic–Baltic region.

Scenario 2: High-­end warfare in the Nordic–Baltic region In this scenario, a high-­end armed conflict breaks out in the Nordic–Baltic region. The main strategic-­level reasons are associated with a Russia that sees a need for an extended zone of influence. Its smaller neighbours to the west are to be deprived of their freedom of action and Russia is to control their security policy and thereby create what could be called a ‘zone of subjugation’. Russia’s objectives with open hostilities in the Nordic–Baltic region consist of a combination of factors. First, an attempt to split EU–Europe, where differing security perspectives between Northern, Eastern and Southern Europe might give rise to delays or make a coherent response to aggression difficult or impossible, helping to bring about a fait accompli. Second, to break the transatlantic link, by exploiting divisions within the transatlantic alliance, rendering the alliance pledge of solidarity moot. Here, of course, the role of the US is crucial. Third, an attack could come about as a result of the Kremlin’s needs to deflect domestic discontent, or its suspicious fears of a Western attack on Russia. A Russian leadership with a faltering economy and with a restive public opinion might judge an attempt to create a wider buffer-­zone as an attractive option to divert attention from domestic problems. An extension of a defensive zone would with this logic be seen as a reasonable risk to a perceived existential threat. On the operational level, the discussion of a high-­end warfare scenario for the Nordic–Baltic region is often based on one or more versions of a Russian attempt at coup de main-­type of operations against one or more of the three Baltic states. In order to prevent allied reinforcements, the main area of operations needs to be cordoned off for an adequate time, to present the Western alliance with a fait accompli.25 The aim of creating a forward buffer zone as a shield for the land operation puts the major Baltic islands in focus.26 The Åland/Ahvenanmaa Islands, Gotland and Bornholm form a Baltic three-­dashed line which, as well as the islands of Hiiumaa/Ösel and Saaremaa/Dagö, might be central to a successful operation.

80  Niklas Granholm Here, classical military methods would be employed. Airborne and/or amphibious forces in combination with Special Forces would be landed quickly to seize control of the islands or parts of them, in order to prepare the ground for the forward-­deployment of an A2/AD-­bubble with a sufficient capability to deny the use of surrounding sea- and airspace. Mid- and/or long-­range surface-­to-air and anti-­ship systems should be made operational for a sufficiently long time in order to prevent or at least delay the arrival of Western reinforcements to the Baltic States. Similarly, the outermost skerries and small islets at the edge of the archipelagos can play an important role as nodes in an integrated network of sensors and/or shooters. The effective range of the forward-­deployed Russian A2/AD systems would probably suffice to significantly limit the freedom of manoeuvre for Western forces in the relatively confined Baltic sea- and airspace unless they can be quickly neutralised. The objective of this part of the operation would be for the aggressor to gain time and ‘working space’ in order to create favourable conditions for achieving an operational fait accompli on the mainland. The conflict would erupt with no or at best short tactical warning and perhaps with a short operational-­ level warning, while the strategic-­ level warning is already given. The operational tempo would probably be very high and intense. The conduct of the Russian forces in such a surprise attack are facilitated by the setup and modus operandi, as it has developed over the past decade. Russia’s exercises have since 2009 increasingly focused on regional wars. Strategic-­level exercises and comprehensive surprise combat-­readiness exercises at military district or service level, as well as annual strategic-­level exercises, reflect a determined and persistent Russian effort at improving the capability of the Russian armed forces. Russia’s new normal with unannounced surprise readiness-­tests with increasingly large units and inter-­service formations facilitates a surprise attack. The aggressor could also take advantage of the civilian shipping constantly operating in the region by using equipment and personnel hidden or disguised on board. This could be put in place well before outbreak of hostilities. At a given moment this Trojan-­horse-style-­ruse is put in motion and could prove difficult to discover in advance for the defenders to apply countermeasures. At sea in the Baltic region, the conflict would be characterised by high intensity, fast pace and an exchange of fires that is likely to cause a fast attrition of scarce forces. Surprises regarding actual effectiveness, accuracy and range of weapon systems seem likely – some systems will disappoint while others will prove to be surprisingly effective. Tactical innovation would be swift and might prove decisive. The available arsenals of ASCMs, Surface-­to-Air and ASMs would be quickly depleted. The character of the Baltic Sea region means that the conflict at sea will blur with that in the coastal regions. The short distances relative to the range of modern weapon systems makes naval warfare in the Baltic Sea a difficult undertaking with high risks and where the outcome is far from certain.

Small navies and naval warfare in the Baltic Sea region  81 Tactical nuclear weapons, their actual use or the threat of their use, might also be part of the Russian instrumentarium.27 These weapons form part of the arsenals in the Russian armed forces and have been modernised in recent years. Ballistic missiles and cruise missiles are systems that get the most attention, but in the naval and maritime sector, nuclear mines and long-­range nuclear torpedoes could also form part of the threat picture.28 The aggressive and forceful Russian nuclear rhetoric, modernisation of systems and exercise patterns, also indicate that a limited nuclear war is seen as a central option in Russian operational concepts.29 The Western tactical nuclear component is less modern, but still remains part of the arsenal in Europe, though it is unclear whether NATO currently has a credible option of using the arsenal, since the military and political procedures are not up to date.30 Depending on the situation, these weapons could, if the situation is deemed desperate enough, be employed in a surprise attack to achieve the operational targets. Alternatively, they could be used to coerce an opponent into submission. Nuclear weapons could also be employed as a threat to defend operational gains and freeze a situation advantageous to the aggressor in a post-­ conflict situation. Finally, in a situation where a conventional operation is suffering setbacks, tactical nuclear weapons could be used to avert looming defeat.

Discussing the scenarios – how to counter the grey-­zone and high-­end threats? The two scenarios outlined above point to a need for different structures and balance to address the threat perception – what is needed to respond in each scenario?

Scenario 1: Just below the boiling point For the grey-­zone scenario, endurance and staying power are crucial and dominating factors. The aim is to avoid defeat by keeping the goods flowing through the maritime system with as little disruption as possible, for as long as possible and at an affordable cost. Since the aggressor can choose method, place, time, intensity and function, the defender is presented with a daunting task. The solutions border on the obvious: first, make sure that adequate resources are available and with the right level of readiness over time. Most maritime security forces in and around the Baltic Sea region are currently designed and funded for a situation where accidents at sea, transgressors and rule-­breakers are few relative to the volume of sea-­traffic in the region. For the strategic reasons outlined here and the operational concept exemplified in the scenario, this can in all likelihood no longer be the sole valid base for structuring and designing maritime security forces in the region. Recent exercises indicate that the current resources would not be able to uphold security in a grey-­zone scenario for long. An example are the results of a naval exercise in 2015, SWENEX, where the limits of the current size of the Royal Swedish Navy became clear. One operational area on the Swedish west coast could be managed in a grey-­zone scenario under

82  Niklas Granholm a limited time period at the expense of nearly all other geographical areas.31 As Jeremy Stöhs has shown, naval and maritime forces in Europe have been in overall decline in the past two decades, and it is by no means certain that they are adequately prepared for this type of challenge.32 Second, the current methods of keeping an updated Recognised Maritime Picture (RMP) are probably in need of modernisation. To keep an RMP relevant is a continuously ongoing activity. It is arguably no longer sufficient to keep track of each ship and vessel, who owns and operates it, but also what kind of cargo and the contents of each container and cargo hold on board each ship. The size of some ships is such that several thousands of TEU-­sized containers, in some cases over 10,000, their content, ownership and destinations needs to be known.33 Who is who and who is shipping what to whom? Some of this information is already known, but needs to be shared more widely. The use of upgraded IT-­systems with improved Big Data algorithms able to indicate and distribute alerts on suspected irregularities can also contribute to provide early warning.34 Analysis of ships’ patterns of movement can further support deployment of the limited resource of maritime security forces over time. For commercial reasons, lead times are shorter and the demands placed on supervisory and naval and maritime agencies for faster and near seamless cooperation are therefore higher than previously. Third, the integration between different agencies (navies, coast guards, police forces, shipping agencies, customs, maritime agencies, cybersecurity agencies and security services etc.) needs to improve. Since the grey-­zone operation is multi-­ dimensional, enhanced cross-­ sectorial cooperation is needed, enhancing fast exchange of relevant data. Moreover, this exchange needs to be intra-­national as well as multinational, in the region and outside of it. Some of this is already in existence through the SUCBAS and SUCFIS cooperation in the Baltic Sea.35 To explore enhanced multinational and cross-­sectorial cooperation would be a next step. For example, a navy from one nation could cooperate with a coastguard from another to solve a specific task or vice versa. Ideally, this would over time be developed until a near seamless bi-, tri- or multinational operation can become part of routine standard operating procedures to meet this part of the threat. For the naval and maritime security forces and their land-­based colleagues tasked with countering the aggressor in such a scenario, the key challenge will be to correctly assess the situation – essentially an intelligence task – and then deploy their limited resources in a manner that can be upheld over time.36 Cooperation in order to meet these challenges will be crucial and has at least two different aspects.37 Given the often stove-­piped nature of the bureaucratic structures with varying administrative cultures, traditions and ingrained habits, this will be complicated enough within one state.38 To achieve effective inter-­state and multilateral cooperation across the naval and maritime sectors is an even greater challenge. While cooperation and exchanges between navies, between coastguards, police and customs between states can work reasonably well, the cross-­sectorial cooperation is considerably harder to achieve and is often seen as secondary to the inter-­ state cooperation. An example of the complexities

Small navies and naval warfare in the Baltic Sea region  83 different national structures present is the cooperation between the Royal Danish Navy, where the coastguard tasks are undertaken by the navy, and the Swedish Coast Guard, a civilian government agency, separate from the Royal Swedish Navy, which in turn has agreements on how to cooperate with the Royal Danish Navy. In Germany, the organisation is again different regarding what is civilian, military, state and federal level. Each state has its own unique solutions. Given the integrated nature of economic life dependent on the sea in the Nordic–Baltic region and with the scarce resources overall, reaching an adequate level of inter-­state and multilateral cooperation becomes a central part of the countermeasures to blunt the effect of the methods used by the aggressor. Fourth, the psychological factor of a successful ongoing maritime security operation needs to be communicated to the public and to a wider international audience. A long-­term operation aimed at keeping the sea-­lanes safe and secure will also have an effect over time. To present and effectively communicate what is being done to uphold security, safety and good order at sea that supports the nations’ long-­term well-­being will also act as a countermeasure to the information operations that will form part of the aggressor’s methods.

Scenario 2: High-­end conflict For the high-­end conflict scenario several structural and operational challenges present themselves. The development of Russian force structures and posture means that the advance warning of a surprise attack is short or non-­existent. This leads to a need for three adaptive measures: first, readiness has to be considerably higher than today. A long period where presence and constabulary operations far away – the away-­game – was a main priority, led to a lower readiness and reduced capabilities in home waters. Second, the operational stance has to be adapted to take into account the increased risk of a surprise attack or coup-­type of operation. Naval- and airbases and regiments were closed due to the post-­Cold War optimism, stores were centralised and logistics cut to a minimum.39 All the remaining units were often home-­based in one single base. In a situation with a higher risk environment, this has to change. Dispersion, deception, protection and movement – including taking advantage of the oceanography and archipelagos – will again be central operational tenets. A quicker turnaround time of ships and units, where time moored in ports is shortened, is another requirement. As a follow-­on, the design requirements of the next generation of ships should factor this in with subsequent demands on the logistics organisation to follow. Third, for the amphibious units in the region, operational mobility and speed needs to improve. With the ‘three-­dashed-line’ of Baltic islands as well as the outer skerries and smaller islands in focus, the current design of amphibious and coastal defence forces needs an upgrade in mobility and firepower. This applies to the states in and around the Baltic Sea that currently operate variants of amphibious and coastal defence units – mainly Finland, Sweden and Norway, and to an extent Denmark. Other nations in and around the Baltic Sea region

84  Niklas Granholm who are currently without these capabilities could also consider how such units could operate in a high-­end scenario. Today’s fleet of fast boats would need to be complemented with air-­cushion type-­transports and/or helicopters to attain higher speed and capability in operations. Contested terrain needs to be brought under control quickly in order to counter enemy raids and landings. The contested terrain could then be used as nodes in command and control systems or for weapon systems. Firepower based on land-­based anti-­ship missiles and self-­ propelled long-­range high precision coastal artillery would seriously complicate or prevent landings and intrusions. The anti-­aircraft defences are also clearly in need of an upgrade, where some type of MANPAD-­systems is a necessary add-­on to light and mostly unprotected amphibious units. In addition, air-­support through JTAC-­components should be added. These components, similarly to what has been said in the previous scenario, need to cooperate and integrate with others on a national basis and with forces in other nations. Here, some developments have taken place, but clearly more could be done.40 The defensive efforts outlined above will, taken together, contribute to the creation of an operational threshold that hopefully will convince the aggressor to refrain from an attack. The risk of executing an attack must be seen as too high for the aggressor and the outcome too uncertain. However, decisions on what systems to acquire and what level of readiness and posture that is needed, will still need to take the strategic level into account. The aim of the nations in the region is that their own defence efforts should influence top-­level assessments and planning in other countries and thus contribute to regional stability. Should an open conflict come, the aim is to hold the line for long enough to make time for outside forces to arrive in theatre. Early warning, sufficient readiness of standing sea and air power assets will prove crucial in providing a sufficient in-­ theatre capability that leads the potential aggressor to refrain from an attack.

Conclusions and implications for further studies Three questions were asked at the outset of this chapter: • • •

How could navies and maritime security forces in the wider Baltic Sea region be better organised, structured and equipped in order to counter and manage disruptions in a grey-­zone conflict scenario? How could the naval defence problems of the Baltic Sea region be addressed given that the risk of an open high-­end conflict has returned? How could various cooperative efforts in the maritime arena address current vulnerabilities?

Ken Booth’s model with a military, policing and diplomatic role for navies and maritime security forces provides a partial answer to the questions posed here. In this limited study, it provides just the conceptual framework needed. The three purposes of navies and maritime security forces are all covered: a military role in the high-­end scenario and a policing role in the grey-­zone. The diplomatic

Small navies and naval warfare in the Baltic Sea region  85 role is also relevant in order to signal resolve to potential aggressors and reassurance to friends and allies. A main conclusion is that efforts in the grey-­zone scenario support the high-­ end scenario, in that the latter could well follow the first if the aggressor decides to increase the pressure by crossing the line into open conflict. At a certain point, the situation would change – and the aggressor has the initiative here – from the grey-­zone to the high-­end scenario. If naval and maritime security forces can detect this operational shift and have the capability to undertake tasks in both scenarios, much would be gained. An increased ability for fast and agile adaption in a fluid situation would serve to strengthen the ability to withstand pressure. Being able to send such a credible signal falls into the third core role of navies in Booth’s model: diplomatic signalling. If the potential aggressor perceives that an operation runs the risk of failure, stability will at best ensue. That said, a grey-­zone scenario and a high-­end scenario have very different implications for the force mix, structure and capability of naval forces. While a grey-­zone scenario calls for maintaining a broad and enduring presence, which implies a greater number of patrol vessels with sensors, but perhaps with fewer advanced weapons, a high-­end scenario may make less demands on numbers but would place capability, firepower and survivability higher. However, the two scenarios clearly indicate that naval and maritime forces designed exclusively for either a grey-­zone situation or a high-­end open conflict would leave serious vulnerabilities. The aggressor could exploit gaps and vulnerabilities using a wide spectrum of methods. Given the scarcity of available funding, the next version of naval and maritime security forces may end up being configured for a little of both scenarios, which entails a risk of coming up short in both contingencies. One implication for further studies is to ascertain where the balance point regarding structure, volume, cooperative efforts and readiness lies. How should a balanced structure and size of Nordic and Baltic navies and maritime security forces look? How much could enhanced cooperation help alleviate current naval and maritime shortfalls? The attempt at answers in this analysis still remain tentative. They can hopefully be used as a starting point for further work. In order to achieve a sufficient threshold capability over the spectrum of challenges outlined here, much work remains on a conceptual as well as on a practical level. The worsening security climate, not least in the Nordic–Baltic region, points to a clear need for more thinking and not least prudent decisions on future investments in naval and maritime security. Few causes for optimism on the strategic situation are on the horizon when the foundations of international security after a long period of relative stability are undergoing fundamental change.

Notes   1 I would like to extend my gratitude to several friends and colleagues in and outside of the FOI who in various ways have contributed with insightful, constructive and

86  Niklas Granholm c­ ritical comments during the process of writing. Any remaining weaknesses are of course entirely my own responsibility.  2 Graham Allison, Destined for War. Can America and China escape Thucydides’s Trap? (London: Scribe Publications, 2017). Zbigniew Brzezinski, Strategic Vision. America and the Crisis of Global Power (New York: Basic Books, 2012). Robert Kagan, The Jungle Grows Back. America and Our Imperiled World (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2018). Henry A. Kissinger, World Order. Reflections on the Character of Nations and the Course of History (United Kingdom: Penguin Random House, 2015). Ivan Krastev, After Europe (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2017). Joseph S. Nye JR, Is the Amer­ican Century Over? (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2015).   3 Government of Sweden, Nordic Defence Cooperation Vision 2025 (Oslo: 13 November 2018). Johan Engvall et al., Nordiskt operativt försvarssamarbete – Nuläge och framtida utvecklingsmöjligheter (Stockholm: Swedish Defence Research Agency, 2018), FOI-­R–4628–SE.   4 Elbridge Colby and Jonathan Solomon, ‘Facing Russia: Conventional Defence and Deterrence in Europe’. Survival, no. 6 (2015) 21–50. David A. Shlapak and Michael Jonson, Reinforcing Deterrence on NATO’s Eastern Flank: Wargaming the Defense of the Baltics (Santa Monica: RAND Corporation, 2016). Stephan Frühling and Guillamue Lasconjarias, ‘NATO, A2/AD and the Kaliningrad Challenge’. Survival vol. 58 no. 2 (2016) 95–116.  5 Chris Parry, Super Highway. Sea Power in the 21st Century (London: Elliot & Thompson Limited, 2014).  6 Geoffrey Till, Seapower. A Guide for the Twenty-­First Century. 4th edition (Abingdon: Routledge, 2018) 47–48.   7 Lars Wedin, ’Det 21:a århundradet är blått’, (The 21st Century is Blue). Kungl. Krigsvetenskapsakademiens Handlingar och Tidskrift, no. 1 (January 2018) 23–34.  8 Jeremy Stöhs, The Decline of European Naval Forces. Challenges to Sea Power in an Age of Fiscal Austerity and Political Uncertainty (Annapolis: US Naval Institute Press, 2018).  9 Geoffrey Till, Seapower. 10 The naval build-­up in Asia is a clear example of this. Geoffrey Till, Asia’s Naval Expansion. An Arms Race in the Making? (London: International Institute of Strategic Studies, 2012). 11 Ken Booth, Navies and Foreign Policy (Abingdon: Routledge Revivals, 1977) 15–25. The sections follows Booth’s reasoning and summarises its central features. 12 Booth uses ‘military’, though the terms ‘naval’ and ‘military’ are usually used to denote separate activities at sea and on land. 13 Helsinki Commission, HELCOM 2018. HELCOM Assessment on Maritime activities in the Baltic Sea 2018 (Helsinki: HELCOM, 20 March 2018) 24. HELCOM uses data collected from the AIS-­System, which accounts for all IMO ships. Since the AIS-­ technology has become increasingly affordable, more ships tend to use them for increased safety, which points to an increasingly reliable data set as well as an increase in ships’ traffic in the Baltic Sea region. 14 Kungl. Örlogsmannasällskapet. En marin för Sverige (A Navy for Sweden) (Stockholm: 2018) 5–6. 15 According to Lt Cdr Gunnar Möller, RSwNavy, Head of the Mine Warfare Data Center (MWDC), about 165,000 mines were dropped in the Baltic Sea, Skagerrak, Kattegat and the adjoining parts of the North Sea during the First and Second World Wars. Of these it is estimated that one-­third remains in the sea. According to the HELCOM Final Report from 1994, about 40,000 tonnes of munitions were dumped after the Second World War. Of these about 13,000 tonnes were chemical munitions. 16 Anti-­Access refers to the ability to deny access to a region (with ships and aircraft), while Area-­Denial refers to the ability to make it dangerous to remain in the same

Small navies and naval warfare in the Baltic Sea region  87 region. Robert Dalsjö, Christofer Berglund and Michael Jonsson, Bursting the Bubble. Russian A2/AD-­Capabilities in the Baltic Sea Region: Capabilities, Countermeasures and Implications FOI-­R–4651–SE (Stockholm: Swedish Defence Research Agency, March 2019). 17 Bret Perry, ‘Entering the Bear’s Lair: Russia’s A2/AD Bubble in the Baltic Sea’. The Buzz/The National Interest (September 2016). Tobias Oder, ‘The Dimensions of Russian Sea Denial in the Baltic Sea’. Center for International and Maritime Security­website (cimsec.org) (4 January 2018). Loc Burton, ‘Bubble Trouble: Russia’s A2/ AD Capabilities’. Foreign Policy Association-­website (25 October 2016). Robbie Gramer, ‘This interactive map Shows the High Stakes Missile Stand-­Off Between NATO and Russia’. Foreign Policy (12 January 2017). Sydney J. Freenberg Jr., ‘What The US, NATO Must Do To Counter Russia: Breedlove, Gorenc, & Odierno. The National Interest (22 September 2014). 18 Robert Dalsjö et al. Bursting the Bubble. 19 CDR (E) Dr Mats Nordin, Director of Engineering, Interview. Swedish Defence Research Agency, 25 October 2018. 20 The debate on grey-­zone problems and the maritime domain have until lately not attracted much attention. A recent example is James Goldrick’s study on grey-­zone operations in the maritime domain. James Goldrick, Grey Zone Operations and the Maritime Domain (Canberra: Australian Strategic Policy Institute, 30 October 2018). 21 This scenario is in part based on studies undertaken on civil defence by the Swedish Defence Research Agency, FOI. Daniel K Jonsson, Typfall 5: Utdragen och eskalerande gråzonsproblematik, (Case 5: A Protracted and Escalating Grey-­ Zone Problem). (Stockholm: Swedish Defence Research Agency Memo 6338, 31 January 2018). 22 A hypothetical case study where the island of Gotland in the Baltic Sea is cut off from the Swedish mainland, as part of a wider naval and maritime study, was recently undertaken by the Royal Swedish Naval Society. Its conclusions clearly illustrate these vulnerabilities, which are by no means limited to Gotland. Kungl. Örlogsmannasällskapet. En marin för Sverige, (A Navy for Sweden). (Stockholm: 2018) 10–11. 23 Elisabeth Braw, ‘There’s No Plan B for Port Security’. Foreign Policy 5 (November 2018). 24 A recent example of what could be a preparation for a grey-­zone operation was the raid undertaken by Finnish civilian and military authorities in the Åboland Archipelago in southwestern Finland against the Russian-­owned company Airiston Helmi. The company had acquired a number of properties in the archipelago, close to central SLoCs. The raid was conducted by about 400 civil servants and agents from a combination of Finnish authorities, ranging from the tax authority, national police, coastguard and the armed forces. While the official reason given for the raid was tax evasion, the broad approach with cooperating Finnish agencies and the fact that the Prime Minster and President were informed, points to the seriousness with which the Finnish authorities treated this matter. Hufvudstadsbladet, ’Tre miljoner i kontanter, två häktade – det här behöver du veta om tillslaget i Pargas och ekobrottsmisstankarna’. (17 October 2018). www.hbl.fi/artikel/tva-­personer-har-­ haktats-det-­har-behover-­du-veta-­om-tillslaget-­i-aboland/ Andrew Higgins, ‘On a Tiny Finnish Island, a Helipad, 9 Piers – and the Russian Military?’ New York Times, 1 November 2018. www.nytimes.com/2018/10/31/world/europe/sakkiluoto-­ finland-russian-­military.html 25 Martin N. Murphy and Gary Schaub Jr, The Baltic: Grey-­Zone Threats on NATO’s Northern Flank (Centre for International Maritime Security, 29 March 2017. 26 In 2016, Sweden unexpectedly redeployed its strategic reserve to Gotland. Since then, a mechanised battle group has been deployed to the island and a new regimental establishment is being built. It seems likely that the military presence on Gotland will be developed further. Niklas Granholm, ‘Did a Top Secret Threat Assessment Prompt

88  Niklas Granholm Sweden to Deploy Troops to the Baltic Island of Gotland?’ RUSI Commentary (28 September 2016). https://rusi.org/commentary/did-­top-secret-­threat-assessment-­ prompt-sweden-­deploy-troops-­baltic-island-­gotland 27 This paragraph is mainly based on two recent FOI-­studies. Niklas Granholm and John Rydqvist (eds.), Nuclear Weapons for Battlefield Use and European Security (Stockholm: Swedish Defence Research Agency, 2017) FOI-­R—4430—SE. Niklas Granholm and John Rydqvist, Nuclear Weapons in Europe: British and French Deterrence Forces (Stockholm: Swedish Defence Research Agency, 2018) FOI­R—4587—SE. 28 Nils-­Ove Jansson, Omöjlig ubåt. Stridsberättelser från ubåtsjakten och det säkerhetspolitiska läget under 1980-talet, (Impossible Submarine. Accounts from the submarine hunts and the security situation in the 1980s). (Forum Navale nr. 52, 2014). 29 Gudrun Persson and Fredrik Westerlund, Ryska Kärnvapen: Doktrin och förmåga, (Russian Nuclear Weapons: Doctrine and Capability). (Stockholm: Swedish Defence Research Agency, Memo 6329, 17 January 2018). 30 Andy Corbett, ‘Deterring a Nuclear Russia in the 21st Century. Theory and Practice’. Nato Defence College Research Report (May 2016). www.ndc.nato.int/news/news. php?icode=950# 31 Kungl. Örlogsmannasällskapet. En Marin för Sverige (A Navy for Sweden), (Stockholm, May 2018) 16. 32 Jeremy Stöhs, The Decline of European Naval Forces. 33 A TEU is a standard Twenty Foot Equivalent Container with a length of 20 feet, width of 8 feet and height of 8.6 feet. The number of TEUs a ship can carry is a measurement of its capacity. 34 The US Customs and Border Security has operated the Container Security Initiative (CSI) since 2002, which is similar to the suggestions here. The aim of the CSI is to identify containers of interest using just such IT-­based screening technologies. In addition, CSI has technological systems screening containers of relevance that also operate in ports outside of the US. www.cbp.gov/border-­security/ports-­entry/cargo-­ security/csi/csi-­brief 35 Sea Surveillance Co-­operation Baltic Sea (SUCBAS) is a cooperative effort where Sweden, Finland, Denmark, Norway, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland, Germany and the UK have shared information on the RMP in the Baltic Sea region regarding security, environment, safety and law enforcement since 2009. At the outset, reports were shared manually, but today automated exchange is implemented. The origins come from the Swedish-­Finnish cooperation, SUCFIS, begun in the first years of this century. http://sucbas.org/ 36 RADM Johan Norrman, Head of Operations Department, Swedish Coast Guard. Interview. Stockholm, 1 November 2018. 37 RADM (LH) Anders Olovsson, Commander Maritime Component Command (COM MCC), Royal Swedish Navy. Interview, Stockholm, 23 October 2018. 38 This was the focus of a Swedish Government Committee that analysed how to better coordinate all state naval and maritime resources. Jan Hyllander, Maritim samverkan. Betänkande av maritimutredningen (Maritime Cooperation. Report by the Maritime Committee) (Stockholm: Statens offentliga utredningar, no. 48, 2012). 39 For an overview of the process of military retrenchment in Sweden after the end of the Cold War, see Wilhelm Agrell, Fredens Illusioner. Det svenska nationella försvarets nedgång och fall 1988–2009, (Illusions of Peace. The Decline and Fall of the Swedish National Defence 1988–2009). (Stockholm: Atlantis 2010). 40 An example of naval cooperation in the Baltic Sea is the Swedish-­Finnish Naval Task Group (SFNTG), to have reached initial operational capacity in 2019 and full operational capacity by 2023.

Part II

Small navies within the European context

7 European small(er) navies Failure and success in doing more with less Jeremy Stöhs

Introduction Defence planners, naval practitioners and maritime security experts frequently bemoan the fact that European naval power has been in constant decline since the end of the Cold War.1 With no small degree of nostalgia, pundits look back upon the naval heydays of yore. Comparisons are drawn between the former order of battle and the current size of naval fleets. The common verdict: European navies are smaller and, hence, less capable of addressing the broad range of maritime security challenges than any time in recent memory.2 At first glance, there appears to be some substance to this claim. The two largest navies in Europe, the British Royal Navy and the French Marine Nationale, have suffered significant reductions since the conclusion of the balanced superpower conflict.3 Other regional powers with relatively well-­ fleets, Italy and Spain, have also found it challenging to maintain their full-­ spectrum naval forces. Meanwhile, the German and Dutch ‘mid-­sized regional fleets’ maintain insufficient numbers and lack the readiness to conduct assigned duties in times of relative peace.4 At the end of the Cold War, the Royal Netherlands Navy figured prominently in the discussion of global naval power.5 Today, its truncated fleet qualifies to be discussed in this book on small navies. But what about the many naval services of small states across the European continent; which are all too often overlooked in the discussion of great power politics? ‘In many respects small navies are simply big navies in miniature’, Geoffrey Till explained.6 They face much of the same problems in ‘balancing resources against commitment’ as do their larger counterparts.7 Because the majority of European states significantly cut their defence spending in the decades following the demise of the Warsaw Pact, one might assume that ‘truncation’ and ‘decline’ must be the logical labels that describe the evolution of all European navies, large and small. This article will outline the challenges small(er) European naval forces have faced in the post-­Cold War environment. It will describe how small navies have navigated through a period of financial austerity on the one hand and a growing range of duties on the other. Finally, it will discuss the consequences

92  Jeremy Stöhs this development has had within the context of maritime security and provide an outlook on Europe’s small navies as we move forward.

A widening security agenda The end of the Cold War (1989–1991) constituted a watershed moment in history and ushered in a fundamental change in the global security environment.8 The indivisible threat to survival of the states on both sides of the Iron Curtain faded in lockstep with the thawing of East-­West relations.9 In the absence of an imminent and existential threat, states identified new risks and threats to Europe’s security.10 Consequently, naval policies were revisited to address these perceived challenges. On the one hand, navies had to continue showcasing ‘traditional’ warfighting capabilities to ensure a measurable degree of conventional deterrence.11 Furthermore, as part of the ‘military aid to civil authority’ as Ken Booth called it, the protection of territorial waters and the policing of EEZs remained a basic mission of naval forces.12 One the other hand, against the backdrop of a broadening and widening security agenda, an increasing number of governments sought to project security beyond Europe’s borders. In order to shape crisis abroad and prevent them from having an adverse effect at home, European naval forces also had to fulfil new and often unfamiliar roles.13 Power projection, in the form of military interventions, peace support operations and humanitarian assistance and disaster relief efforts, grew in importance.14 Many of these expeditionary operations took place at great distance from home and outside NATO’s traditional area of operation (i.e. ‘out-­of-area’). Due to their inherent flexibility, scalability and the relative low risk attributed to this sort of deployment, naval forces provided a useful political tool to project power abroad. Increasingly often, European navies were called upon to conduct naval operations over great distances and for prolonged stretches of time. In this period of relative peace, and in the absence of a peer competitor, the idea of ‘maritime security’ gained salience among Western defense planners.15 Under the impression of the attacks on 11 September 2001, the initial focus lay on countering the threat of terrorism.16 Soon other threats and risks were subsumed under the concept of ‘maritime security operations’ (MSO). This includes piracy and armed robbery; illegal trafficking of humans, narcotics and arms; the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction; illegal fishing and the illegal exploitation of maritime resources; as well as the damage to the marine environment.17 European naval forces often shared the burden of managing these risks with other agencies, such as coastguards, custom agencies and non governmental organisations. To this day, the division of labour, avoiding a duplication of efforts and integrating various maritime actors prove to be some of the knottiest problems to overcome. While the scope of naval missions clearly expanded, defence spending dramatically decreased. With few exceptions, European governments readily re-­ appropriated funding to non-­defence related areas as part of the so-­called ‘peace dividend’.18 Consequently, military procurement was curtailed and force

European small(er) navies: failure and success  93 s­ tructures truncated. Unable to replace ageing platforms (ships, submarines, helicopters etc.) on a one-­for-one basis, naval forces shrunk in size – or, more precisely, in numbers.19 The widespread shift from conscription to professional militaries resulted in a significant portion of the military budget being consumed by pay and pension; money that would otherwise be allocated to maintenance, modernisation and operations.20 Moreover, shortages in personnel caused further maintenance problems and readiness gaps. Consequently, naval forces, large and small, across Europe had to do more with less. Confronted with these opposing trends, ‘European navies – as part of their national defence establishment – [were] tossed between the horns of several dilemmas’:21 (1) How to identify and translate security interests into meaningful strategic guidelines. And how to align them with the ‘core business’ of naval forces, namely war-­fighting. (2) How to square the circle of a growing range of naval duties but decreasing levels of defence spending. (3) How to use and deploy naval forces in the so-­called ‘post-­heroic’ era, in which European societies are less willing to put their soldiers and sailors in harm’s way.22

Hand me the ‘small navy cookie-­cutter’ During the Cold War, geopolitical constraints informed European naval policies.23 Although these constraints were removed after 1991, some states enjoyed greater local and regional ‘geopolitical freedom of action’ than others.24 Denmark, for example – her territory no longer threatened by invasion from the East – almost instantaneously shifted toward an expeditionary-­minded defence policy. Norway, meanwhile, remained ‘wary of engaging in post-­ Cold War euphoria’.25 The country’s proximity to Russia and its different strategic culture meant that the political and military leadership remained less willing to abandon its traditional focus on territorial defense.26 The degree to which navies shifted their priorities was dependent on a host of factors: geographic and topographical considerations, economic and industrial capacity, interest and influence abroad, the political system, military culture and leadership, and not least history.27 Frankly, there are countless trajectories along which naval forces can develop. As Jan Breemer argued, ‘the number of ways in which European states could organize for [individual and] collective naval action is almost infinite’.28 Despite this fact, naval forces are commonly juxtaposed to each other to assess their capability and rank. ‘Ranking has important consequences in terms of categorising navies and more importantly their states: simply put, there is a general correlation between ranking of a nation’s navy and a nation’s status in the international system.’29 From this follows, the wish to identify paths to success; in other words, the ‘paradigm navy’, which to model other navies after.30 Where small navies are concerned, the Singapore navy, the Israeli navy, or New Zealand’s navy are often considered exemplary and worth emulating.31 However, it is important to note that there is ‘no one ideal navy, no single model, that can suit the needs and expectation of the great, major, medium, and

94  Jeremy Stöhs minor powers […]’.32 Ian Speller stressed the fact that ‘[one] must avoid the assumption that there is one particular route to success, or that there is an ideal-­ type “paradigm navy” and that others can be judged according to how closely they adhere to this model’.33 This, however, does not mean that developing comprehensive naval policy and building naval fleets tailored to the needs of small states does not underlie certain commonalities.

Common denominators among small European navies Historically, small states have been able to draw larger powers into war. And small navies have had significant impact on the outcome of conflict.34 However, states that operate small navies are rarely powerful actors in international affairs. In fact, during much of the modern era they disposed of limited capacity to shape events both at home as well as abroad. Despite the previous assertion that all navies face similar challenges, many smaller European navies under discussion have specific, inherent limitations. First, Till identified a ‘limited independence of strategic decision’ among small navies, particularly, ‘when up against, or operating in the presence of, much larger ones with incongruent national interests’.35 Second, small navies lack, what he called ‘critical mass’.36 Maintaining and operating small number of forces is less economic while strategically more risky. Third, small states with a small defence industrial base are also more dependent on help from abroad. Therefore, small navies often rely on foreign naval designs and systems as well as training and support. This also implies that in dealing with new and unknown technology, […] they can afford to back fewer horses in the race than can richer countries. For them, playing with unproven technology is particularly hazardous; it is safer to wait for someone else to take the risks.37 Last but not least, national defence is a matter of money. The lack of resources has a particularly detrimental effect on naval posture.38 Warships are are among the most expensive weapon systems a state can procure and particularly manpower intensive to maintain and operate. While rich states, such as Israel or Singapore, can acquire the most sophisticated technology and most advanced military systems with relative ease, financially challenged states, such as Latvia or Ireland, cannot hope to buy large and powerful warships bristling with advanced sensors and weapons. As a consequence, states with small navies seek solutions that will hedge against these limitations as well as offset and mitigate strategic risks.

How to deal with fiscal austerity? Over the past decades, sweeping budget cuts have been the norm rather than the  exception for European navies of all sizes. In a comprehensive article on

European small(er) navies: failure and success  95 European naval power from 1996, Donald Daniel and Bradd Hayes provided four possibilities for navies to deal with financial pressures.39 1

2

3

4

Settle for less: The easiest and most obvious solution is for states to cut back on what they expect of their navies.40 This can mean that a navy’s warfighting capabilities are consciously reduced or that expensive power projection and sea control missions are replaced by a less complex territorial defence and sea denial posture. Assigning navies ‘only modest missions, such as peacetime patrolling of European exclusive economic zones’ is another option.41 Jointness: The second solution is to create synergies through inter-­service cooperation and integration.42 Daniel and Hayes explained that the ‘basic theory behind jointness is to reduce, if not eliminate, redundancies in service capabilities in order to reduce costs while maintaining capabilities’.43 They noted that interoperability has the potential to be a ‘force multiplier’ where, as Norman Polmar argued, ‘the whole is greater than the sum of the parts’.44 International cooperation: Integration also lies at the heart of the third solution. Technical interoperability, common operational language and procedures, unified command and control, shared rules of engagement, free exchange of intelligence, and concerted naval procurement and planning, are but some of the prerequisites for successful multinational (combined) maritime operations.45 Once political and military cooperation is well-­ established, small navies can pursue niche-­specialisation. They can develop skills in specific areas while relegating more complex missions, ‘in which they struggle to maintain a competency because of a scarcity of resources’, to more powerful allies and partners.46 The ability to pool and share is a further consequence of bi-­lateral and multinational naval cooperation.47 While it helps to ‘rationalize defense efforts and reduce costs’, it cannot compensate for ‘sustained drops in defense spending’, a RAND study pointed out.48 Asymmetric strategies and leapfrogging: This solution goes hand-­in-hand with the idea of niche-­specialisation. Unable to compete with larger powers for naval parity, small states can ‘rely on “short-­cuts”, that is, to outflank the quality-­quantity dilemma by adopting weapons or doctrine which can [deter] stronger potential enemies’.49 Leapfrogging – jumping several stages of technological evolution – allows states to cut defence expenditure while remaining invested in high-­end defence technology.

What have small navies done? Broadly speaking, all European naval forces have sought and implemented the above-­mentioned solutions throughout the past three decades. However, against the backdrop of declining budgets and increasing costs to procure and operate naval platforms, downscaling measures were largely inevitable. Defence planners tried to compensate for the reduction in numbers by emphasising quality over quantity and by investing in state-­of-the-­art technology (leapfrogging).50

96  Jeremy Stöhs Furthermore, as a consequence of the widening concept of (maritime) security and the concomitant shift toward constabulary and other low-­intensity operations, comprehensive warfighting skills were left to atrophy. States settled for less. European naval policies also placed increased emphasis on naval cooperation and integration. They did so to compensate for shrinking numbers and to close capability gaps; but, also as a result of changing perceptions regarding the role of naval forces. Unlike during the Cold War, navies no longer had to ‘limit themselves to the classic roles of naval forces (i.e., protection of sea lanes, delivery of combat power ashore, etc.)’, Sebastian Bruns emphasized, ‘but [could rather] guard the global system and its underlying values’.51 ‘Traditional’ naval missions and functions, such as sea control or naval diplomacy, took on new shapes and guises. Interestingly, a case can be made that this development benefited Europe’s small navies while it was of greater detriment to the larger maritime forces on the continent. A smaller navy can be more efficient and effective than a larger navy, Germond pointed out.52 While quantity, in material terms, has a quality of its own, it does not necessarily represent the most important criteria. ‘The critical thing is not the simple number of assets a navy has, but how that balances against commitments that it has to meet and the roles that this requires it to perform.’53 A large and powerful navy that is assigned a broad range of missions can be less effective in providing the desired deliverables relative to a small navy that has to merely conduct a limited number of missions.54 This is then often perceived as a small navy ‘punching above its weight’. From the start, many of the small and smallest navies under discussion had limited national ambitions and foreign policy aspirations to satisfy. On the contrary, for most of the larger European powers, the demise of the Soviet Union provided a welcome opportunity to free themselves from their parochial Cold War duties and to capitalise on the gains of projecting political influence abroad.55 They readily embraced a vast range of military missions far afield; occupying a significant portion of their shrinking fleets. To no small degree, this also justified their existence in the new unipolar era. In effect, they shifted from a largely defensive-­minded posture to so-­called ‘projection activities’, which included, ‘expeditionary warfare, counter-­terrorism, counter-­piracy, and counter immigration’.56 For Britain, France, Germany, Italy, the Netherlands and Spain, the effort necessary to satisfy global and ‘supra-­regional’ ambitions accentuated the loss of capabilities as a result of rash defense cuts.57 In contrast, the widening maritime security agenda provided opportunity for small navies to become more visible actors within the European and global context. By contributing to multinational naval operations, they could profit from collaborating and integrating with more powerful navies. Furthermore, small states were able to expand their maritime portfolio with relatively little risk involved – solving the dilemma of how to deploy naval force in a post-­heroic era. As Germond and others have pointed out, ‘[today] a growing number of so-­ called […] “small” navies possess the capabilities to operate within coalitions

European small(er) navies: failure and success  97 (interoperability), often under the auspices of international organizations such as the UN, NATO, or the EU’.58 What is more, ‘Small navies can […] reasonably compensate for their smallness, if they feel they need to, by banding together and learning best practice from each other.’59 The three Baltic States, Sweden and Finland, or Belgium and the Netherlands are good examples.60

Money cannot buy happiness – but it can buy capable navies? In order to trace the broad development of Europe’s small naval forces over the period of time under discussion, it is important to distinguish between the different ‘categories’ of small navies in Europe. Brendan Flynn proposed a three tiered model: (1) navies of states with an annual defense budget in excess of €1 bn (e.g. Norway, Sweden, Belgium, etc.), (2) those with less than €1 bn (Ireland, Baltic States, Cyprus, Bulgaria, Slovenia and Croatia) and (3) those with less than €100 m (Malta, Albania).61 All small navies are either: adjacent force projection, offshore territorial defence, inshore territorial defence, or purely constabulary navies; to use Eric Grove’s vernacular.62 Endowed with relative wealth, the largest among Europe’s small naval forces have been able to retain small, but still discernible, advantages over most counterparts around the globe.63 For comparatively rich states such as Norway, Denmark, Belgium, Greece and Portugal, membership in NATO, close ties to the US and access to leading defence technologies has offered some respite in austere financial times. Similarly, both the Swedish and the Finish navies are highly professional services, which operate cutting-­edge forces, despite justified calls for greater defence allocation. As maritime security operations have grown in importance throughout the first decades of the twenty-­first century, even the most territorial defence-­ oriented navies have begun to deploy ‘out-­of-area’. The Swedish navy, for example, has contributed to both the UN peacekeeping operation off the coast of Lebanon since 2007 and the EU’s anti-­piracy operation Atalanta in the Western Indian Ocean.64 Meanwhile, the Irish Naval Service recently took part in its first multi-­national naval operation (EU-­led operation Sophia). Aimed at combatting illegal human trafficking, Finland has also deployed a boarding team to operation Sophia in the Mediterranean. Admission to the EU and NATO has offered Latvia, Croatia, Romania and others the opportunity to partake in cooperative naval development (contributing to NATO’s standing naval forces or EU’s naval operations). However, for many former communist countries – some of which only gained independence in the 1990s – building and operating naval forces proved to be a much greater challenge. Fiscal limitations stand in the way of these small navies effectively addressing a greater range of maritime security challenges.65 More importantly, some states (particularly Bulgaria and Romania) suffer from systemic problems, i.e. flawed structural reform, lack of oversight and wide-­spread corruption.66

98   Jeremy Stöhs

Introducing the high-­low mix conundrum Since Russia’s illegal annexation of Crimea and the consequent return of great power competition, naval forces across Europe must again entertain the possibility of waging high-­intensity warfare at sea. This applies especially for the small navies in close proximity to Russia (North Atlantic, Baltic Sea and Black Sea). To address the perceived challenges that Russia’s military forces pose, NATO is seeking to re-­vitalise collective defence.67 Meanwhile, Sweden and Finland are pursuing closer cooperation and integration with the alliance.68 Rather than focusing on peace support operations and the soft-­end of maritime security spectrum, many European states are re-­emphasising territorial defense, maintaining sea control or denying it to others. The greater the proximity to the sharp end of the conflict between Russia and the West, the less ‘geopolitical freedom of action’ states enjoy and the more compelling the need for credible warfighting capabilities. Consequently, the Scandinavian states are in the process of shifting back to more traditional interpretations of naval power. Reintroducing conscription, standing-­up coastal defences, investing in high-­end platforms and strengthening military interoperability are attempts at offsetting perceived disadvantages. It is important to note that these rich countries can take technological risks and modernise their fleets more easily than can the other small navies under discussion. Moreover, the respective militaries already deploy a range of multi-­purpose assets which can effectively operate in contested environments.69 For some of the financially challenged littoral states of the Baltic Sea and Black Sea, attaining credible warfighting capabilities is a far more troubling proposition. While naval capabilities of the past might have been sufficient for peace-­time operations, they need to be reshaped to address future challenges. It will be a tall order to acquire the offensive and defensive weapon systems that can provide a credible deterrent vis-­à-vis Russia in the respective theatres. Procuring modern anti-­ship missiles, much less capable surface combatants, submarines, helicopters and maritime patrol aircraft appears to be beyond the reach for some of these countries.70 Further afield, the small navies of other NATO members are also refocusing on fulfilling their treaty obligations. However, being located at some distance from Russia’s borders – and under the impression of a host of different security concerns – their respective shift towards the high-­end is less pronounced. The Portuguese navy, for example, has successfully recapitalised its fleet.71 Today, relative to other navies, it showcases a greater proficiency in conducting both low-­end as well as high-­end missions than its predecessor three decades ago.72 The Slovenian naval service, meanwhile, has displayed impressive resourcefulness by deploying one of its two small patrol boats as part of a multinational operation in the Mediterranean. Following on its heels, Croatian navy missile boats have joined NATO exercises and operation Sea Guardian.

European small(er) navies: failure and success  99

Conclusion This brief overview suggests that declining defence budgets did not necessarily translate into small(er) navies surrendering their ability to address Europe’s security challenges. In fact, it is no stretch to say that small naval forces have enjoyed a measurable degree of success in addressing maritime security challenges over the past three decades. Despite an austere financial environment, some states have been able to comprehensively modernise their small fleets. Others have expanded the breadth and reach of naval operations, by assuming considerable responsibility in NATO-, EU- and UN-­led maritime operations. In fact, it can be argued that small naval services today are capable of conducting a wider range of maritime missions together with other military services and civilian agencies of allies and partners than their Cold War equivalents. Thus, they have added a net value to Europe’s security. However, by emphasising missions on the lower end of the intensity spectrum for more than two decades, all navies under discussion relinquished critical capabilities, necessary to prevail in high-­intensity warfare. Even for the richest among Europe’s small states, regaining some of these proficiencies promises to be an arduous and protracted process. In the case of the former communist states, the lack of resources and systemic problems linked to structural deficiencies already limit their ability to maintain modern and relatively well-­ balanced navies. The need to reinvest in the high end throws their material and structural weaknesses into stark relief. A detailed analysis of each navy would take us outside the confines of this chapter. However, the case studies provided elsewhere in this book provide valuable insight in understanding the role and capabilities of smaller European naval forces. As we look toward the future, the range of duties will hardly decrease. Despite the current shift back toward warfighting, ‘contributing to the preservation of a dynamic global maritime system in cooperation with others’, as Niklas Granholm put it, is unlikely to lose any of its relevance.73 Security challenges related to migration, illegal trafficking of arms and terrorism will warrant close attention. Basic constabulary duties and protecting sovereign rights at sea will remain a ‘core function of smaller naval powers’, and must be understood and conceptualised as such by scholars and practitioners alike.74 In the long run, states will no longer be able to settle for less, as they have done in the past. In order to address the shared maritime security challenges of the twenty-­first century, Europe’s small navies must maintain the willingness and capacity to conduct low-­end missions. At the same time, they need to expand their capabilities to hold their own in high-­threat environments. Their success will continue to depend on the levels of defence spending, adroit appropriation and allocation of available funds, prudent procurement decisions and oversight, as well as increased collaboration and integration with allies and partners.

100  Jeremy Stöhs

Notes   1 Stephan F. Larrabee et al., NATO and the Challenges of Austerity (Santa Monica, CA: RAND Corp., 2012). Bryan McGrath, ‘NATO at Sea: Trends in Allied Naval Firepower’, www.aei.org/publication/nato-­at-sea-­trends-in-­allied-naval-­power/; Terjesen, Bjørn and Øystein Tunsjø, ed., The rise of naval powers in Asia and Europe’s decline (Oslo, 2012), https://brage.bibsys.no/xmlui/bitstream/handle/11250/99815/OF_6_ 2012_nett.pdf?sequence=1.   2 Overview of development and assessment can be found in Jeremy Stöhs, ‘Into the Abyss? European Naval Power in the Post-­Cold War Era’, Naval War College Review Volume 71, no. 3 (2018), pp. 13–39.   3 The Royal Navy operated an escort fleet of 48 large surface combatants. By 2018, it has shrunk to 19. The Marine Nationale counted 38 cruisers, destroyers and frigates. Meanwhile, this number has been scaled back to 15.   4 ‘Operationally, the strain on the [navies’] depleted front-­line forces has been demonstrated by the “gapping” of certain standing commitments to allow warships to be released for increasingly important NATO taskings. Offshore patrol vessels and auxiliaries have also been allocated to duties previously assigned to frigates and destroyers.’ Conrad Waters, ed., Seaforth World Naval Review 2017 (Barnsley, S. Yorkshire: Seaforth Publishing, 2016), p. 73. Naval Today, ‘Dutch naval ships will not take part in Atalanta in 2018’, navaltoday.com, 9 March 2018, https://navaltoday. com/2018/03/09/dutch-­naval-ships-­will-not-­take-part-­in-atalanta-­in-2018/.   5 Bernard Prezelin, A.D. Baker and Jean Labayle Couhat, The Naval Institute Guide to Combat Fleets of the World 1990/91: Their Ships, Aircraft, and Armament, 8th English-­language ed. (Annapolis, Md.: Naval Institute Press, 1990), p. xvi.   6 Geoffrey Till, ‘Are Small Navies Different?’, in Michael Mulqueen, Deborah Sanders and Ian Speller (eds.), Small Navies. Strategy and Policy for Small Navies in War and Peace (London: Ashgate, 2014), p. 31.   7 Ibid.   8 Joachim Krause, ‘The Times They are a Changin’ – Fundamental Structural Change in International Relations as a Challenge for Germany and Europe’, SIRIUS, no. 1 (2017), www.degruyter.com/view/j/sirius.   9 ‘As the risks were essentially of a regional character, there was no longer certainty of identical responses to them in the various [capitals in Europe].’ Willem van Eekelen, ‘Which Security Strategy for Europe?’, in Gert de Nooy, The Role of European Naval Forces after the Cold War (The Hague: Kluwer Law International, 1996), p. 12. Jan Breemer, ‘European Naval Power after the Cold War: Some not so Common Interests and Risks’, in de Nooy, The Role of European Naval Forces after the Cold War, p. 55. 10 Willem van Eekelen, ‘Which Security Strategy for Europe?’, in de Nooy, The Role of European Naval Forces after the Cold War, 11f. 11 Anti-­air warfare, anti-­submarine warfare, anti-­surface warfare, mine warfare, amphibious assault, naval gunfire support. 12 Ken Booth, Navies and Foreign Policy (Abingdon, UK: Routledge, [1977] 2015), p. 17. 13 HM Ministry of Defence, ‘Strategic Defence Review’ (London, 1998), chapt. 5. 14 Basil Germond expands on the projection of normative power beyond Europe’s border in Germond, The Maritime Dimension of European Security (London and New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015), p. 51f. 15 Ian Speller, Understanding Naval Warfare (London: Routledge, 2014), pp.  150f. Christian Bueger, ‘What is Maritime Security?’, Marine Policy, Volume 53 (2018), pp. 159–64. 16 Ibid., p. 159. 17 Ibid., p. 162.

European small(er) navies: failure and success  101 18 Both Greece and Turkey increased defense spending both in per cent of GDP as well as in overall terms throughout the late 1990s and up until the financial crisis in 2008–2009. Based on SIPRI data see Jeremy Stöhs, The Decline of European Naval Forces: Challenges to Sea Power in an Age of Fiscal Austerity and Political Uncertainty (Annapolis MD: Naval Institute Press, 2018), pp. 107–24. 19 It is important to note that while the number of vessels might have decreased, the total tonnage of some navies has actually increased over time. In 1990, all vessels (excluding tugs etc.) of the Bundesmarine figured for a combined displacement of roughly 156,000 tons. Much criticised for its ‘small’ size, today’s Deutsche Marine weighs in at an accreted 185,000 tons – an increase of nearly 20 per cent. 20 Cost for personnel commonly amounts to more than half of a navy’s budget. For example, the Irish naval service spends more than 50 per cent on pay and pension whereas overhead costs for personnel has at times consumed more than two-­thirds of the Italian navy’s budget. 21 Gert de Nooy, ‘Introduction: The Role of European Naval Forces after the Cold War’, in de Nooy, The Role of European Naval Forces after the Cold War, p. 6. 22 Ibid., p. 6. 23 James D. Watkins, ‘The Maritime Strategy in 1984’, in U.S. Naval Strategy in the 1980s: Selected Documents, ed. John B. Hattendorf and Peter M. Swartz, Naval War College Newport Papers 33 (Newport, Rhode Island: Naval War College Press, 2008), p. 84f. 24 Håkon Lunde Saxi, Norwegian and Danish Defence Policy: A Comparative Study of the Post-­Cold War Era, Defence and security studies 2010/1 (Oslo: Norwegian Institute for Defence Studies, 2010), p. 13f. 25 Ibid., p. 10. 26 Ibid. 27 Certain states have, for various reasons, eschewed traditional naval expansion. The two classic cases are Japan and the Federal German Republic. Both have been considerable sea powers in their time and both could be greater sea powers than they are today if they chose. Eric Grove, The Future of Sea Power (Annapolis, Md.: Naval Institute Press, 1990), p. 227 28 Jan Breemer, ‘European Naval Power after the Cold War: Some not so Common Interests and Risks’, in de Nooy, The Role of European Naval Forces after the Cold War, 76 29 Germond, The Maritime Dimension of European Security, p. 46. 30 The US Navy, its fleet structure and operational procedures are widely emulated by other large and medium-­sized naval forces, the Chinese Navy (PLAN) being a noteworthy example. In Europe, the Royal Navy has built a fleet ‘that looks strikingly like the US Navy, except a fraction of its size’. McGrath, ‘NATO at Sea: Trends in Allied Naval Firepower’, np. 31 Swee Lean and Collin Koh, ‘ “Best Little Navy in Southeast Asia”: The Case of the Republic of Singapore Navy’, in Mulqueen et al., Small Navies, pp.  117–132. Ross Gillet, ‘The Royal New Zealand Navy: The Best Small Nation Navy’, in Seaforth World Naval Review 2014, ed. Conrad Waters (Barnsley, England: Seaforth Publishing, 2013), pp. 42–51. 32 Donald Daniel quoted in Jan Breemer, ‘European Naval Power after the Cold War: Some not so Common Interests and Risks’, in de Nooy, The Role of European Naval Forces after the Cold War, p. 57. 33 Speller, Understanding Naval Warfare, p. 197. 34 The role of the Continental Navy during the Amer­ican War of Independence is a case in point.

102  Jeremy Stöhs 35 Geoffrey Till, ‘Are Small Navies Different?’, in Mulqueen et al., Small Navies, 23. 36 Ibid., p. 23. 37 Geoffrey Till, Seapower: A Guide for the Twenty-­First Century (London: Routledge, 2013), pp. 99–100. 38 The difficulty of some of the Black Sea littoral states to find a replacement for their ageing surface combatants is indicative of this problem. 39 Donald Daniel and Bradd Hayes, ‘Towards a West European Navy: Organizational and Operational Issues’, in de Nooy, The Role of European Naval Forces after the Cold War, pp. 90–91. 40 Ibid., p. 90. 41 Ibid. 42 Ibid. 43 Ibid. 44 Norman Polmar, ‘The Measurement of Naval Strength in the Twenty-­First Century’, in The Changing Face of Maritime Power, ed. Andrew M. Dorman, M.L.R. Smith and Matthew Uttley (Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire: Palgrave, 1999), p. 141. 45 DoD Dictionary defines the term ‘combined’ as ‘two or more forces or agencies of two or more allies operating together’. Department of Defense, ‘DOD Dictionary of Military and Associated Terms’, p. 43. 46 Chris Pagenkopf, ‘Cooperation Is the Key to NATO’s Future’, Naval Institute Proceedings, September (2014), np. 47 ‘Pooling & Sharing’ is a […] concept which refers to Member States-­led initiatives and projects to increase collaboration on military capabilities. The pooling of capabilities occurs when several Member States decide to use capabilities – either nationally owned or multi-­nationally procured – on a collective basis. Sharing or more precisely role-­sharing is when some Member States relinquish some capabilities with the assumption or the guarantee that other countries will make them available when necessary. European Defence Agency, ‘EDA’s Pooling & Sharing: Fact sheet’ (Brussels, 2013), p. 1 48 Larrabee et al., NATO and the Challenges of Austerity, p. xvii. 49 Daniel and Hayes, ‘Towards a West European Navy: Organizational and Operational Issues’, in de Nooy, The Role of European Naval Forces after the Cold War, p. 91. 50 The numerous sophisticated air-­defense frigates and destroyers that were introduced throughout Europe during the late 1990s and early 2000s are examples of this process. The extensive measures of signature reduction applied to Norway’s Skjold-­class FAC and Sweden’s Visby-­class corvette are aimed at offsetting capability gaps. 51 Sebastian Bruns, US Naval Strategy and National Security: The Evolution of Amer­ ican Maritime Power, First edition, Naval policy and history (London: Routledge, 2018), 185. 52 Basil Germond, ‘Small Navies in Perspective: Deconstructing the Hierarchy of Naval Forces’, in Mulqueen et al., Small Navies, p. 37. 53 Till, ‘Are Small Navies Different?’, in Mulqueen et al., Small Navies, p. 24. 54 Till, Seapower, p. 119. 55 Geoffrey Till and Martin Robson, ‘UK Air-­Sea Integration in Libya, 2011: A Successful Blueprint for the Future?’, Corbett Paper, No 12 (2013). 56 Germond, The Maritime Dimension of European Security, p. 57. 57 Bundesministerium der Verteidigung, Weißbuch zur Sicherheit der Bundesrepublik Deutschland und zur Lage und Zukunft der Bundeswehr (Berlin, 1994). Ministerio de Defensa, Secretaría General Técnica, ‘Defense White Paper 2000’ (Centro de Publicaciones, Madrid, 2000).

European small(er) navies: failure and success  103 58 Germond, ‘Small Navies in Perspective: Deconstructing the Hierarchy of Naval Forces’, in Mulqueen et al., Small Navies, pp. 40–41. 59 Till, ‘Are Small Navies Different?’ in Mulqueen et al., Small Navies, p. 29. 60 All three Baltic States have focused on mine warfare capabilities. While they contribute to NATO’s standing mine countermeasure group, all three navies lack the funds to develop significant capabilities in other areas. Meanwhile, Finland and Sweden have been deepening their defence cooperation in the maritime realm in recent years. While both are members of Northern Defense Cooperation, the two states have agreed to create a bilateral standing Naval Task Group. Finally, Belgium and the Netherlands have probably the most comprehensive naval cooperation to date. They have placed their naval forces under a single command as part of BeNeSam (Belgisch-­Nederlandse marinesamenwerking). Anselm J. van der Peet, Out-­Of-Area: De Koninklijke Marine en multinationale vlootoperaties 1945–2001, Werken uitgegeven door de Commissie voor Zeegeschiedenis XXIII (Franeker: Uitgeverij Van Wijnen, 2017). 61 Brendan Flynn at Small Navies Conference, 17 January 2018, Kings College London. 62 Ranking proposed in Grove, The Future of Sea Power, 236–41. Qualifying remarks by Grove in Eric Grove, ‘The Ranking of Smaller Navies Revisited’, in Mulqueen et al., Small Navies, 15–20. 63 Compare Terjesen, Bjørn and Øystein Tunsjø, The rise of naval powers in Asia and Europe’s decline. 64 On increased demand for international missions see Niklas Granholm, ‘A Small Navy in a Changing World: The Case of the Royal Swedish Navy’, in Mulqueen et al., Small Navies, pp. 175f. 65 See Deborah Sanders, ‘Small Navies in the Black Sea: A Case Study of Romania’s Maritime Power’, in Mulqueen et al., Small Navies, pp. 151–66. 66 See Deborah Sanders, Maritime Power in the Black Sea (Ashgate Publishing Group, 2014). On systemic problems in post-­communist states see: Thomas-­Durell Young, Anatomy of Post-­Communist European Defense Institutions: The Mirage of Military Modernity (New York: Bloomsbury Academic, an imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 2017). On Greece see Jeremy Stöhs, The Decline of European Naval Forces, p. 121. 67 John A. Olsen, ed., NATO and the North Atlantic: Revitalising Collective Defence, Whitehall paper 87 (2017). 68 Stefan Lundqvist, Continuity and Change in post-­Cold War Maritime Security: A Study of the Strategies Pursued by the US, Sweden and Finland 1991–2016 (Åbo: Åbo Adademi University Press, 2017). 69 Beth Stevenson, ‘Saab readies new anti-­ship missile for Swedish Air Force’s Gripen fighters’, DefenseNews.com, 19 July 2018, www.defensenews.com/digital-­showdailies/farnborough/2018/07/19/saab-­readies-new-­anti-ship-­missile-for-­swedish-air-­ forces-gripen-­fighters/. 70 Jeremiah Cushman, ‘Resources, Limited Capabilities Challenge Baltic Navies as Russia Threat Grows’, cimsec.org, 1 April 2017. http://cimsec.org/resources-­limitedcapabilities-­challenge-baltic-­navies-russia-­threat-grows/31550. 71 Kate Tringham, ‘Fleet regeneration: Portugal shapes up a modern, balanced fleet’, Jane’s IHS Markit, 2017. 72 António de Sousa Leitão, ‘The Portuguese Navy and the Portuguese Strategic Triangle’, NATO’s Fifteen Nations, Special Issue 2: NATO’s Navies in the 1980s, Vol. 27 (1982), pp. 72–74. 73 Granholm, ‘A Small Navy in a Changing World: The Case of the Royal Swedish Navy’, in Mulqueen et al., Small Navies, p. 179. 74 Michael Pugh, ‘Policing the Seas: The Challenge of Good Governance’, in de Nooy, The Role of European Naval Forces after the Cold War, p. 130.

8 The Royal Netherlands Navy after the Cold War Working with a new doctrine in a new security environment Anselm van der Peet Introduction After the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, the dissolution of the Warsaw Pact and then of the Soviet Union in 1991, the direct military threat to Western Europe disappeared. For the Dutch authorities a new and unique security situation emerged. For the first time in its existence, the sovereignty or territory of The Netherlands was not threatened in any way. Shortly hereafter the government decided that the funds of the Dutch armed forces would steadfastly shrink and analyses were undertaken to decide what their future role would be. Gradually it became clear that the navy, army and air force had to change their focus from a general defence task to three main other missions. To wit: (1) defence of the Kingdom of The Netherlands, including the overseas territories in the Caribbean, as well as allied countries within NATO and the (West) EU; (2) protection and enforcement of the international rule of law; (3) assistance of civil authorities in and outside The Netherlands, including anti-­terrorism, peacekeeping, disaster relief, etc.1 According to the new doctrine, published in the Royal Netherlands Navy (RNLN) white papers Leidraad maritiem optreden. De Bijdrage van het Commando Zeestrijdkrachten aan de Nederlandse Krijgsmacht (2005) and the updated Grondslagen van het maritieme optreden. Nederlandse maritime-­ militaire doctrine (2014), the navy adapted itself to these new tasks. In the mentioned RNLN white papers it was explicitly stated that: Naval vessels operated worldwide and focus more on the transport of military personnel and material then on waging battle at sea. […] The Dutch men-­of-war also serve as floating bases for helicopters and landing craft. Furthermore, they are most suitable to fulfill a role as a center of logistic and/or a center of communication. The RNLN states that it can see action in both joint and combined operations.2 The RNLN, whose main role until 1989 was ASW in a blue water (coastal) environment, officially shifted its attention to brown water (in-­shore) operations. Security from the sea was, especially after 2005, the new catch-­phrase.3 This

Compilation of the RNLN

1990

2015

Frigate

15

6

Auxiliary

2

0

LPD/JSS

0

3

MCMV

26

6

OPV

0

4

Submarine

6

4

MPA

13

0

Helicopter

22

20

Marine battalion

3

2

Figure 8.1  Compilation RNLN 1990–2015.4

106  Anselm van der Peet apparent change in focus, and growing financial restraint, undermined the capacity to fulfil this new role and simultaneously to undertake classic tasks in the field of sea control and sea denial.5 Also, the fleet changed both in size as well as in composition. The number of frigates decreased dramatically (from 15 to 6), both fleet tankers were sold, the squadron of long-­range Maritime Patrol Aircraft (Lockheed P-­3C Orion) was abolished and vessels like landing platform docks for operations of the Royal Netherlands Marine Corps (RNLMC), the army and air force, as well as lightly armed OPVs for constabulary tasks or serving as a station ship in the Dutch Caribbean territories, came into service. This chapter examines the evolution of the RNLN in the 25 years following the end of the Cold War by addressing five questions. First, it is analysed whether the kind of naval operations and doctrine after 1990 really differed from those in the period before the fall of the Berlin Wall. Second, what made the RNLN – which was relatively large if compared with smaller European navies like that of Ireland, Belgium or Denmark – have rather large ambitions? Third, why did the Dutch government on several occasions in the 1990s–early 2000s employ their navy as a tool of first solve as a response to international crises? Fourth, what influence did the RNLN have on Dutch foreign and security policy regarding these missions? And, finally, was the new naval doctrine from 2005, which was updated in February 2014, as well as the new composition of the fleet, the result of a new (inter)national security environment or budget cuts?

Change of focus? It is often suggested that after the Cold War many European navies had to change focus from operations in a blue water environment to that of a brown water environment. Of course, where necessary, in the 1990s, systems had to be adapted and the focus of some of the services had to be transferred. It is, however, a fact that even before the fall of the Berlin wall the RNLN had brown water NATO tasks. MCM operations in the North Sea, among others within the NATO framework of the maritime Standing Naval Force Channel (STANAVFORCHAN), mostly near to the coast, are an example of this, as was the engagement with British forces in the UK/Netherlands Landing Force, designed to support Norway and NATO’s northern flank from 1973 onward. Furthermore, during out-­of-area operations in the 1950s (Korea), and the 1980s (Middle East), the RNLN frequently saw action near the coast and in shallow waters. In addition, during the civil wars in former Yugoslavia, Dutch Maritime Patrol Aircraft and submarines (also) carried out classic ASW tasks. It is clear that the RNLN had undertaken a ‘mixture’ of tasks in the classic higher level of enforcement as well as more constabulary tasks in a brown and a blue water environment, both before and after the end of the Cold War.6

The Royal Netherlands Navy after the Cold War   107

Dutch naval ambitions It was the Dutch admiralty that, after the loss of the last overseas territories East of Suez (West New Guinea) in late 1962, refused to confine the RNLN to a single ASW or (even worse in their eyes) MCM task in the grey and cold northern waters of NATO/eastern Atlantic area. They in no way wanted to see their navy transformed into ‘a small and confined continental navy’, as the Secretary of the Navy stated in 1963. Or, as a RNLN rear admiral publicly stated in 1985: ‘The Dutch navy has no area; all the free world oceans are our area operations.’7 Therefore, in the quarter century where NATO dominated Dutch defence planning (mid-­1960s to 1990), the Dutch stuck to a doctrine of out-­of-area reach as well as a sizable, for this broad purpose adjustable balanced fleet, consisting of cruisers, multipurpose/guided missile frigates/destroyers, submarines, Maritime Patrol Aircraft, MCM vessels and marines.8 Before the Second World War, the larger part of the Dutch navy was stationed in the Netherlands East Indies. This auxiliary squadron included 3–4 light cruisers, 25 destroyers and submarines, 24 minesweepers/layers, some motor torpedo boats and over 60 amphibious Maritime Patrol Aircraft. In 1939, the Dutch government, due to the threat of a Japanese invasion, also decided to construct two further light cruisers as well as three battle cruisers. Because of the Second World War and the German invasion in The Netherlands in May 1940 these (battle)cruisers never materialised.9 The Dutch admiralty was therefore no stranger to ambitious fleet plans. Influenced by negative experiences during the war, to wit: no or little influence on Allied maritime operations despite having a relatively large merchant fleet (fifth largest in the world) and participating in fighting operations until the war’s end with over a dozen men-­of-war and numerous minesweepers, the RNLN in 1945 envisioned that, given the concept of sea power (and national influence), it had to strive for a flexible and balanced fleet that could fulfil a mixture of tasks. The admiralty exploited the political room for manoeuvre provided by huge national maritime prestige, especially in parliament. Also, given that the RNLN had its own and influential Minister of the Navy until 1971, the fact that the charming but cunning former naval captain and war hero Piet de Jong became Secretary of Defence (1963–1967) and later Prime Minister (1967–1971), and long-­serving Minister of Foreign Affairs Joseph Luns (1952–1971) was zealously navy-­minded, played into the hands of the Dutch admiralty. Further on, the RNLN in the 1950s made use of the weak position of the disorganised army, which had to reinvent itself after an inglorious retreat out of the lost colony Indonesia.10 In the early 1960s, at its height, the RNLN comprised of one aircraft carrier, two light cruisers, 22 destroyers and frigates, eight submarines, 72 minesweepers, 130 aircraft/helicopters and 4500 marines. After the French president Charles de Gaulle in 1963 pulled his naval forces out of the Allied Command Atlantic area, the Dutch were until the mid-­1970s the third biggest NATO navy in the North Atlantic. Furthermore, the RNLN was one of the most proficient of the NATO navies in terms of ASW. National maritime pride of a major part of the population, as well as a r­elatively

108  Anselm van der Peet large shipbuilding and weapon systems industry until the mid-­1980s, contributed therefore to a long-­standing favourable stand of parliament towards the RNLN and its ambitions.11 For all these reasons; earlier global colonial responsibilities, the Second World War frustrations in having no say over the national (merchant) fleet, capable Ministers of the Navy, international standing and maritime jingoism of many politicians and voters, the Dutch navy could for decades live up to its huge ambitions. In this sense, the RNLN could, for a time, remain a medium-­sized navy within NATO, with capabilities between those of larger navies such as the British and small allies like Belgium, Denmark, Norway and Portugal.12

Tool of first resolve One of the strategic multipliers in Dutch government foreign policy decisions was to observe good relations with the USA; the protector of its territory during the Cold War as well as the guardian of many of the Dutch overseas interests. Without entangling itself too much in the foreign policy ‘adventures’ of Washington, and becoming deeply involved in new ‘Vietnams’, different cabinets opted in the first phase of an international conflict for a maritime participation in a multinational enforcement mission, as with the response to Iranian minelaying in the Persian Gulf 1987–1988, the Gulf War of 1990–1991, the conflict in the former Yugoslavia 1992, Haiti 1993–1994 and after the 9/11 attack. For Dutch politicians, the fleet was an attractive political instrument, because the vessels were relatively quick to employ, but were also a tool of first resolve because the (long) period that they sailed to their area of operations left time for a political adjustment on the mission. With these maritime deployments, The Netherlands internationally gave a political signal, but simultaneously no major military, and therefore political, risks were taken. Furthermore, the ships could remain under national control because of the fact that they, in contrast to army units, were able to operate independently.13

Navy influence on politics The ability to demonstrate, both nationally and internationally, that the RNLN was a flexible organisation that could be employed worldwide at short notice upheld the prestige of the navy and proved useful at times when the budget was under threat. The RNLN used its out-­of-area missions in the 1990s to illustrate that it was far more capable than the army and air force to fulfil these kinds of operations. Demonstrating enthusiasm to participate in enforcement/embargo missions in the Middle East, the Adriatic or the Caribbean showed that the RNLN was able to operate worldwide together with larger Western navies like the US Navy and Royal Navy and to promote Dutch interests. With these kinds of operations, the RNLN was able to promote its prestige nationally and internationally, and could diminish the negative impact on the navy budget in the first decade after 1990.

The Royal Netherlands Navy after the Cold War  109 Remarkably, in these years, public remarks in the national media by flag officers and task force commanders succeeded in getting the government to change course in a direction favourable to the admiralty.14 Examples of this influence on Dutch politics include: extending the naval task force in the Persian Gulf in 1990 or operating under Amer­ican and British command instead of being part of a European task force.15 Another is the broad and diverse presence of the RNLN in the Adriatic in the years 1992–1996 and 1999, by which the navy showed its own government that it could deliver a meaningful contribution in bringing the conflict in the former Yugoslavia to an end. This show of force helped to save the Submarine Service from liquidation and, for the short term, the squadron of Maritime Patrol Aircraft and some frigates. The same accounts for the operations after 9/11: from December 2001 onward, several frigates, submarines, as well as Maritime Patrol Aircraft, began their out-­of-area anti-­terrorism patrols in the Persian Gulf area in Operation Enduring Freedom.16

Context of the new fleet composure The earlier mentioned navy studies of 2005 and 2014, Leidraad Maritiem Optreden and Grondslagen van het maritiem optreden, continue to provide direction for the RNLN. Based on the study of 2005, three mayor strategic choices were made regarding thoughts on the navy. First, the choice was made for task specialisation by operating in the Caribbean and in constabulary tasks.17 Six out of a class of eight multipurpose frigates were sold to create funds for OPVs.18 Unsuitable for service in enforcement or war situations, these lightly-­armed vessels are more suitable for counter-­drug and antipiracy operations.19 Second, cooperation with the Belgian navy was intensified. On the operational level, both navies were already working closely together, mostly regarding MCM-­operations and with concern to additional education and logistics. Already in 1962, a binational MCM-­school was set up in Oostend (éugermin, école de Guerres des Mines), of which in succession Dutch and Belgian officers were in command. Next to that, the Dutch cooperated with Belgian (and French) counterparts in the design of a new MCM vessel for the early 1980s (Tripartite project, current Alkmaar/Aster class). Also, under Belgian command, a binational MCM Task Group was sent to the Persian Gulf in 1987–1988. On the level of fleet command, there had also been a steady process of integration. In March 1975, a provisional Admiralty Benelux (Belgium, Netherlands, Luxembourg) was created for times of war.20 Partly because of shrinking naval assets, the two countries had decided in January 1996 that in peace time both operational naval staffs would be integrated into a single staff. Therefore, a new joint headquarters was set up in the Dutch naval base of Den Helder. From 2005 onwards, the Dutch Commandant Zeestrijdkrachten (C-­ZSK) was also Admiral Benelux, with a Belgian flag officer as his deputy. Also, a joint School of Operations was created.21 Given these facts, it was no surprise that the navy white paper of 2014 was prepared in close cooperation with the Belgian navy.22

110  Anselm van der Peet ­ urthermore, Belgium has since 2005 assumed responsibility for the instruction F and training of Dutch and Belgian crews of MCM vessels as well as the logistics and maintenance of these ships. After the sale of two Dutch multipurpose frigates to Belgium (2005), The Netherlands has the same sort of obligations regarding Belgian M-­frigates, their crews and helicopters. The four M-­frigates are therefore mostly to be found in Den Helder and the MCM vessels vice versa in ports in Belgium. The integration of both navies is evolving even further with an integrated stand-­by force.23 Moreover, both navies work closely together in future ship-­building programs regarding new MCM vessels and the successor of the M-­frigate.24 Apart from the strategic choice of intensifying the integration with the Belgian navy, over the last two years more cooperation has been sought with the German Bundesmarine, for example in funding and training with regard to the Joint Support Ship (JSS) Zr.Ms. Karel Doorman together with the German Seebatallion and Dutch marines. In 2016, it was announced that this new (2014) German unit (a naval protection force, mine-­ clearance divers and boarding teams) would be integrated into the RNLN during some exercises. They could learn, under Dutch command, from the experienced RNLMC.25 It was a rather innovative response of both countries to handle budget constraints. The RNLN, who earlier was only able to use the vessel with a reduced crew in merely a tanker and transport role, now saw possibilities to operate the JSS in exercises in a sea-­basing role because of extra German sailors and equipment. The Bundesmarine could forgo the acquisition of costly JSS and build up much needed specialised expertise for their sailors and soldiers. The Netherlands for their part arranged that, whenever the Germans used the Karel Doorman, it in return could use tankers and supply ships of the Bundesmarine.26 In practice, however, the Dutch-­German cooperation did not materialise, apart from one large-­scale exercise in September 2018. Major problems with the main engines of the JSS during much of 2016–2017, as well as an unforeseen aid mission of the Karel Doorman in September–October 2017 to the Caribbean territories of the Kingdom, prevented earlier binational sea-­basing exercises. Also, the sorry state of much of the German forces, including their tanker and supply vessels, in combination with rising Dutch naval budgets, raise some doubt over further close cooperation of the RNLN with the Bundesmarine.27 Last, but not least, the RNLN made the strategic choice to seek further integration of the fleet and RNLMC, to strengthen the maritime force and enhance the expeditionary capability and operational availability of the marines.28 In short, the naval operations and the vision on these missions shifted between 1990 and 2015 from control of large sea areas to maritime choke points (interdiction operations), and from SLoC to coastal/brown waters. More emphasis was therefore placed on MSOs, mostly outside (West) European waters. The question remains, how far these developments were just a consequence of a changing security environment? In March 1991, the Dutch government presented the white paper Herstructurering en verkleining, followed in January 1993 by the Prioriteitennota: Een andere wereld, een andere Defensie. These

The Royal Netherlands Navy after the Cold War  111 two white papers were the basis for Dutch defence policy after the Cold War. All of the Dutch armed forces shifted their focus from a general, mainly collective European/North Atlantic defence task, to contributing actively in enhancing worldwide the international rule of law, and more tasks within the Kingdom of the Netherlands (including Caribbean territories) like anti-­ terrorism, with a meanwhile steadily decreasing defence budget. The latter development was ominously named: ‘to take in the Peace Dividend after the end of the Cold War’.29 In 2000 a new white paper followed, which focused even more on expeditionary and amphibious capabilities, but also on threats from North Africa and the Middle East with ballistic missiles. A second amphibious transport ship (Zr.Ms. Johan de Wit) after the Rotterdam in 1998, and four air defence frigates of the De Zeven Provinciën class, were therefore built. Also, a third marine battalion was foreseen.30 Meanwhile the Dutch armed forces shrank considerably. In 1990, the total number of military personnel was 111,000. In 2015, this was reduced to 42,000, of which less than 9000 were naval personnel. The defence budget went down from 2.4 per cent GNP to just above 1 per cent.31 For the navy, in the end, there was no escape. As earlier mentioned, the number of (mostly modern) frigates shrank from 15 to 6, from the 26 MCM vessels six were left, the Lockheed Orion P-­3C Maritime Patrol Aircraft were sold in 2005 and the remaining navy helicopters came under the command of the Air Force. Also, after 350 years, a large part of the naval base of Amsterdam was closed.32 The third marine battalion never materialised and the Rotterdam marine barracks (the last military asset in the largest port of Europe) were only saved by co-­funding of the municipality of Rotterdam, who stationed and trained hereafter specialised police units on these grounds.33 The last five years, operating costs of the shrinking fleet rose because of the fact that ships were ageing and repairs and docking time and maintenance took longer. Lack of spare parts, reduced participation in exercises, but also cuts in personnel (as well as a shortage of technical specialists), added to the fact that more and more vessels had to stay over a longer period in port.34 Amphibious operations took over from ASW. In 2015, the earlier-­mentioned large amphibious JSS, the Karel Doorman (28,000 GRT), came into service.35 New budget cuts after 2010 meant that the fleet no longer had a specialised supply ship/tanker after Zr.Ms. Amsterdam was hastily sold to Peru in 2014. The JSS Karel Doorman, which would sail in the spring of 2015, could act as a supply vessel in addition to its primary role as an amphibious command ship, and had to take over all the tasks of the Amsterdam as well. A new supply ship/ tanker to come into service in 2020 was cancelled due to a shortage of funds. It was a dear negative development for the RNLN but also for maritime European and NATO task forces, where there was and is a shortage of these kind of vessels.36 As mentioned earlier, for the RNLN in the 1990s, nothing seemed to change really that dramatically because of the earlier, traditional broad range of tasks and the balanced composure of the fleet. It still operated worldwide with an expeditionary focus, only with more emphasis on brown water operations.

112  Anselm van der Peet Nevertheless, after several rounds of reorganisation the other military branches became accustomed to structural involvement in expeditionary missions. The growing political will to participate in multinational peace keeping and peace enforcement operations, combined with a shrinking defence budget, meant that the navy, army and air force were working more and more together.37 These developments made the navy and the fleet vulnerable to further budget cuts. Especially so, because the main focus of these missions was on land operations (Ethiopia, Iraq, Afghanistan, Chad, Mali). Of the RNLN, the Marine Corps got most of the political attention. In 2005, the admiralty changed course in this regard, and as a result the marines got the same position as the operational services of the fleet. Previously the RNLMC, with a major general as Commandant, had a subordinate position to the Commandant der Zeemacht (Commander-­inChief Fleet), a vice admiral, which also had a separate headquarters. Hereafter, fleet and marines were integrated, but on an equal footing. The RNLMC regained further influence by supplying the Commander of the whole RNLN (C-­ ZSK) by turn with the fleet. To wit: lieutenant-­general Rob Zuiderwijk in 2007–2010 and lieutenant-­general Rob Verkerk in 2013–2017. Furthermore the Commandant of the RNLMC occupied high command positions in the unified headquarters of the fleet and the marines; the Commandant was Director of Operations for the entire naval domain.38 Although the marines after 2009 drew most of the attention with their vessel protection detachments in antipiracy actions near Somalia, the fleet also profited from these (multinational) missions by escorting merchant ships and regaining with these operations good will amongst public and politicians. However, apart from proving that national men-­of-war (submarines included) were indeed necessary for the protection of Dutch and befriended cargo vessels, the RNLN did not receive extra funding.39

Conclusion Security from the sea, mostly expeditionary, was, as we concluded earlier, not a totally new phenomena for the RNLN, given the broad, worldwide and diverse tasks, doctrine and weapon platforms it had in the post-­1945 decades. As a small European country with a large maritime heritage, prestige and industry, and a relatively large amount of seapower, factors that influenced over a long period Dutch government policy, the RNLN was until 1990 able to fulfil most of its ambitions and capable of participating in operations with the greater Anglo-­Saxon navies. In that regard, at first there was nothing new to report for the Dutch admiralty after 1990. Structural out-­of-area constabulary missions in peacekeeping, disaster relief and enforcement operations by all the services, in years of ongoing budget cuts, brought in the end bad news for the navy. Even more, because from the year 2000 on, the political focus shifted to land operations. This development made the RNLN change focus with a new doctrine, new choices and new weapon platforms. These choices were both the result of a new security environment as well as of structural diminishing funds.

The Royal Netherlands Navy after the Cold War  113 Nevertheless, after 2014, the tide changed. The international balance of power is unstable and Europe is confronted with a range of threats at the borders of the continent: migration flux and terrorism from Africa and near Asia towards an assertive and aggressive resurgent Russian Federation. Especially the new Russian threat towards Europe and in the North Atlantic, and the assurance of the Dutch government in recent ministerial NATO meetings to spend more money on defence, make the future of the RNLN look less somber.40 In this perspective The Netherlands and Belgium in late 2016 signed an agreement to build together four new Multipurpose frigates (ASW, AAW and BMD tasks) and 12 MCM-­vessels, which have to be commissioned from 2023 onwards. In 2017, it became clear that a new large Dutch Combat Support Ship will sail in 2023 and signs are good that on short notice a decision will be made to replace within ten years the ageing Walrus class of four submarines.41 Given these developments, it can hardly surprise that a confident vice admiral Rob Kramer, the current C-­ZSK, stated in December 2017 in an intern naval column: The focus has to shift. After years of small single constabulary missions, like antipiracy or counter drug operations, we have to train again for the task where we are really here for on this world. […] That’s why we will participate in 2018 in three large NATO war exercises in the Atlantic.42 In this perspective for the RNLN the pendulum seems to swing back. Both in the security environment as well as in doctrine/weapon platforms.

Notes   1 Leidraad Maritiem Optreden. De Bijdrage van het Commando Zeestrijdkrachten aan de Nederlandse Krijgsmacht (Den Helder: Koninklijke Marine, 2005), 13, 22–23. See also: Maritieme Visie. De Koninklijke marine in 2030. Voor veiligheid op en vanuit zee semi white paper (Den Helder: Koninklijke Marine, 2009), 8–10.   2 Leidraad Maritiem Optreden, 15, 47, 193; Ministry of Defence, Netherlands, Grondslagen van het maritieme optreden Nederlandse maritieme-­militaire doctrine (Den Helder: Koninklijke Marine, 2014), 67.   3 Anselm J. van der Peet, Out-­of-area. De Koninklijke Marine en multinationale vlootoperaties 1945–2001 (Franeker: Van Wijnen, 2016), 17–18, 189–192.  4 Jaarboek van de Koninklijke Marine 1990 (’s-Gravenhage/Bergen: Koninklijke Marine/Afdeling Maritieme Historie, 1991), 286–302; D.C.L. Schoonoord, Pugno Pro Patria. De Koninklijke Marine tijdens de Koude Oorlog (Franeker: Van Wijnen, 2012), 318–320.   5 Kees Turnhout, ‘Klopt de som nog wel?’, in Woelige baren. Uitgave ter gelegenheid van 125 jaargangen Marineblad, eds. Onno Borgeld, Marion Lijmbach, Anselm van der Peet (Den Haag: KVMO, 2015), 26–27.  6 H. van Foreest, ‘Uitgeleide’, Marineblad 101, no. 11 (November 1991): 435–436; Van der Peet, Out-­of-area, 445–446.   7 Homan, C. and R.T.B. Visser, ‘ “Nederland heeft geen ‘area’, de hele vrije zee is ons gebied.” Een interview met eskadercommandant schout-­ bij-nacht J.D.W. van Renesse,’ Marineblad 95, no. 9 (1985): 384–393; Van der Peet, Out-­of-area, 124, 131, 129, 186; Schoonoord, Pugno Pro Patria, 133.   8 Van der Peet, Out-­of-area, 125, 163–166, 172–180.

114  Anselm van der Peet  9 Jan Hoffenaar, ‘De krijgsmacht in historisch perspectief ’, in Krijgsmacht. Studies over de organisatie en het optreden, ed. E.R. Muller (Alphen aan den Rijn: Kluwer, 2004), 37. 10 Jan Willem L. Brouwer, ‘Dutch naval policy in the Cold War period’, in Strategy and Response in the Twentieth Century Maritime World. Papers presented to the Fourth British-­Dutch Maritime History Conference ed. Jaap Bruijn (Amsterdam: Bataafsche Leeuw, 2001), 43–48. 11 Robert Gardiner, ed., Navies in the nuclear age. Warships since 1945 (London: Conway Maritime Press, 1993), 152; Van der Peet, Out-­of-area, 94, 157, 328, 476. 12 Ko Colijn and Paul Rusman, Het Nederlandse Wapenexportbeleid 1963–1988 (’s-Gravenhage: Nijgh & Van Ditmar Universitair, 1989), 519. 13 Van der Peet, Out-­of-area, 101–105, 120–121, 437–438, 444–445. 14 Ibid., 370–371, 438–439. 15 Ibid., 347–354. 16 Christ Klep and Richard van Gils, Van Korea tot Kaboel. De Nederlandse militaire deelname aan vredesoperaties sinds 1945 (Amsterdam: Boom, 2005), 445–449; Van der Peet, Out-­of-area, 364, 438–439. 17 P. van den Berg, ‘De Koninklijke Marine: koersvast in een onzekere wereld’, Militaire Spectator 182, no. 11 (November 2013): 473–474. 18 Gijs Rommelse, ‘Follow me’ De M-­ fregatten van de Karel Doorman-­ klasse (Franeker: Van Wijnen, 2008), 81–83. 19 Ch. van den Berg, Hollandse Nieuwe. Introductie van de Patrouilleschepen Marine Warfare Centre (Den Helder: Koninklijke Marine, 2013), 11–12. 20 Schoonoord, Pugno Pro Patria, 164, 203. 21 M.C.F. van Drunen, Jaarboek van de Koninklijke Marine 1996 (’s-Gravenhage: Koninklijke Marine/Instituut voor Maritieme Historie, 1997) 170; ‘Belgisch-­ Nederlandse marinesamenwerking’, Marineschepen.nl, accessed 30 March 2017, https://marineschepen.nl/dossiers/belgisch-­nederlandse-samenwerking.html. 22 Grondslagen van het maritieme optreden, 5. 23 ‘Belgisch-­Nederlandse marinesamenwerking’, Marineschepen.nl, accessed 30 March 30 2019, https://marineschepen.nl/dossiers/belgisch-­nederlandse-samenwerking.html. 24 ‘Nederland vervangt marineschepen samen met België’, Ministerie van Defensie, accessed 30 March 2019, www.defensie.nl/actueel/nieuws/2016/11/30/nederland-­ vervangt-marineschepen-­samen-met-­belgie. 25 Handelingen Tweede Kamer (HTK) 2015–2016, 33 763, no.  93, January 25, 2016; Thorsten Jungholt, ‚Wie von der Leyen die europäische Armee vorantreibt, Welt, 4 February 2016. 26 ‘Wat houdt de Duitse en Nederlandse marinesamenwerking nu echt in?’, Marineschepen.nl, accessed 30 March 2019, https://marineschepen.nl/nieuws/Wat-­houdtNederlands-­ Duitse-marinesamenwerking-­ in-050216.html; Lars Hoffmann, ‘German Armed Forces To Integrate Sea Battalion Into Dutch Navy’, Defense News, accessed 30 March 2019, www.defensenews.com/naval/2016/02/05/german-­armed-forces-­tointegrate-­sea-battalion-­into-dutch-­navy/. 27 Sim Schot, ‘Inzet Zr.Ms. Karel Doorman. Size does matter’, Marineblad 125, no. 7 (2017): 16–18; ‘Karel Doorman klasse JSS’, Marineschepen.nl, accessed 30 March 2019, https://marineschepen.nl/schepen/jss.html; ‘Karel Doorman oefent met Duits Seebatallion’, Marineschepen.nl, accessed 30 March 2019, https://marineschepen.nl/ nieuws/Karel-­Doorman-oefent-­met-Duits-­Seebataillon-040918.html; Tobias Buck, ‘German armed forces in “dramatically bad” shape, report finds. Capacity stretched by shortage of equipment and thousands of unfilled posts’, Financial Times, 20 February 2018. 28 Leidraad Maritiem Optreden, 15, 27, 35; Van den Berg, ‘De Koninklijke Marine’, 473–474; M. de Natris, ‘Belgisch-­Nederlandse samenwerking: kansen of gedoe?’, Marineblad 127, no.  2 (2017): 11–13; ‘Duits Seebatallion wordt onderdeel van

The Royal Netherlands Navy after the Cold War  115 ­ ederlandse marine’, Duitsland Instituut, accessed 30 March 2019, https://duitslandN instituut.nl/artikel/15022/duits-­seebataillon-wordt-­onderdeel-van-­nederlandse-marine; ‘Waarom Duitsland de Karel Doorman wil gebruiken’, Marineschepen.nl, accessed 30 March 2019, https://marineschepen.nl/Waarom Duitsland de Karel Doorman wil gebruiken. 29 Klaas Visser, ‘Bezuiniging op Defensie, de sociaaleconomische gevolgen – 25 jaar later’, in Woelige baren. Uitgave ter gelegenheid van 125 jaargangen Marineblad, eds. Onno Borgeld, Marion Lijmbach, Anselm van der Peet (Den Haag: KVMO, 2015), 20. 30 R. de Wijk, ‘Defensiebeleid in relatie tot veiligheidsbeleid’, in Krijgsmacht. Studies over de organisatie en het optreden, ed. E.R. Muller e.a. (Alphen aan den Rijn: Kluwer, 2004), 147–177, 67. 31 Ministerie van Defensie, ‘Kerngegevens Defensie. Feiten en cijfers’, accessed 30 March 2019, www.defensie.nl/overdefensie/inhoud/feiten-­en-cijfers; Roy de Ruiter, ‘De worsteling van de krijgsmacht na de Koude Oorlog’, in Woelige baren, eds. Onno Borgeld et al. (Den Haag: KVMO, 2015), 18. 32 ‘Marinekazerne Amsterdam dicht in 2018’, Marineschepen.nl, accessed 30 March 2019, https://marineschepen.nl/dossiers/marine-­kazerne-amsterdam-­dicht.html; ‘Rijk en Amsterdam ontwikkelen samen marineterrein verder’, Ministerie van Defensie, accessed 30 March 2019, www.defensie.nl/actueel/nieuws/2018/07/10/rijk-­enamsterdam-­ontwikkelen-samen-­marineterrein-verder. 33 Eric Vrijsen, ‘Van Ghent blijft open: goed werk Aboutaleb en Hennis!’, Elsevier Weekblad, 27 February, 2014, 18. 34 E.J. de Bakker en R.J.M. Beeres, ‘Hoeveel investeren is duurzaam?’, Militaire Spectator 182, no. 12 (December 2013): 548–561. 35 In 2013, Minister of Defence J. Hennis-­Plasschaert at first decided to sell the unfinished Karel Doorman because of further cuts in the Defence budget. The vessel was saved after rightwing opposition parties demanded minor extra funding of some specific military assets in return for their support on other political issues. Also, it had to sail with a reduced crew. Source: Annemarie Kas e.a., ‘Begrotingsakkoord: overzicht van de maatregelen (en wie wat binnenhaalde)’, NRC Handelsblad, 12 October 2013; www.defensiebond.nl/defensie/karel-­doorman-in-­vlissingen-gedoopt/; HTK 2014–2015, 33 763, 33 694, no. 81, 19 June 2015. 36 ‘Amsterdam bevoorradingsschip’, Marineschepen.nl, accessed 30 March 2019, https://marineschepen.nl/schepen/amsterdam.html; ‘Antwoorden op schriftelijke vragen over Zr.Ms. Karel Doorman’, Ministerie van Defensie, accessed 30 March 2019, www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=10&cad=rja& uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwj6uf6Cs5LeAhVI3aQKHZPPCQcQFjAJegQIAhAC&url=htt ps%3A%2F%2Fwww.rijksoverheid.nl%2Fbinaries%2Frijksoverheid%2Fdocumenten %2Fkamerstukken%2F2016%2F05%2F13%2Fbeantwoording-kamervragen-­over-zr-­ ms-karel-­doorman%2Fbeantwoording-kamervragen-­over-zr-­ms-karel-­doorman.pdf& usg=AOvVaw1TibJ4edjH4GfbbjXLkmR_. The JSS Karel Doorman was among others built to replace the ageing auxiliary Zuiderkruis (1976), which was sold for scrap in 2012. 37 P.W.C.M. Cobelens, K.A. Gijsbers, ‘Gezamenlijk en gecombineerd optreden van de krijgsmacht’, in Krijgsmacht, ed. E.R. Muller e.a., 663, 671–674; D.J. Kuijper, ‘Grondslagen van het Maritieme Optreden. Een vernieuwende, binationale maritieme doctrine’, Militaire Spectator 182, no. 6 (June 2013): 287, 281–282. 38 Arthur ten Cate e.a., Over grenzen. Het Korps Mariniers na de val van de Muur, 1989–2015 (Amsterdam: Boom, 2015), 58, 60; Jaarboek van de Koninklijke Marine 2003 (’s-Gravenhage: Koninklijke Marine/Instituut voor Maritieme Historie, 2004), 19, 21; De Ruiter, ‘Worsteling van de krijgsmacht’, 18; ‘Bevelhebbers der en Commandanten Zeestrijdkrachten’, Marineschepen.nl, accessed 30 March 2019, https:// marineschepen.nl/dossiers/commandant-­z eestrijdkrachten-en-­b evelhebber-der-­ zeestrijdkrachten.html.

116  Anselm van der Peet 39 Ten Cate, Over grenzen, 306–329; www.defensie.nl/onderwerpen/missie-­in-somalie/ antipiraterij. 40 Centraal Bureau voor de Statistiek, Frank Notten, ‘De opkomst van nieuwe militaire supermachten, De gedaalde uitgaven aan defensie door Nederland en de NAVO in internationaal perspectief ’, De Nederlandse economie, September (2015), no. 04; Centraal Planbureau, Macro Economische Verkenning 2016, September (2015); Emilie van Outeren, ‘Er is meer geld voor Defensie, maar veel gaat dat niet helpen’, NRC Handelsblad, 26 March 2018; ‘Amerikanen “happy” met Nederlandse minister van Defensie Bijleveld’, NOS, accessed 30 March 2019, https://nos.nl/ artikel/2201863-amerikanen-­happy-met-­nederlandse-minister-­van-defensie-­bijleveld. html. 41 Dutch Minister of Defense, Bijleveld-­Schouten, Vaststelling van de begrotingsstaten van het Ministerie van Defensie (X) voor het jaar 2019, HTK 2018–2019, 35000X, no. 2 (18 September 2018), pp.  40–41; Joris Janssen Lok, ‘ “Make Navies Great Again”. NAVO-­landen investeren in nieuwe oppervlakteschepen’, Atlantisch perspectief 41, no.  1 (2017): 35; ‘Combat support ship/ bevoorradingsschip Den Helder’, Marineschepen.nl, accessed 30 March 2019, https://marineschepen.nl/schepen/combat-­supportship.html; https://marineschepen.nl/schepen/nieuwe-­fregatten-2023.html; “Nieuwe mijnenbestrijdingsvaartuigen (België en Nederland),” Marineschepen.nl, accessed 30  March 2019, https://marineschepen.nl/schepen/nieuwe-­mijnenjagers-2025.html; ‘Vervanger Walrusklasse onderzeeboten’, Marineschepen.nl, accessed 30 March 2019, https://marineschepen.nl/schepen/nieuwe-­onderzeeboten-2025.html. 42 Vice-­admiraal Rob Kramer, ‘Spagaat’, C-­ZSK Column, Intranet Ministerie van Defensie, 19 December 2017.

9 Maritime security strategies for very small states The Baltic states William Combes

Protecting and securing their maritime security and access to the Baltic Sea is vital to the security of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, and their contribution to NATO and the EU and maritime security should be an important element of their national strategies. Unfortunately, it is not. This chapter will provide insight into the importance of the maritime domain to the Baltic states, what importance they place on maritime security as reflected in their current capabilities, policies, strategic documents and cooperative agreements, and how they could build on and preserve this unique element of national power into the future. In addition to analysing each of the Baltic states’ contribution to their own maritime security, and that of the broader security of the Baltic Sea region, NATO and the EU, this chapter will make maritime environment, security strategy and naval capability comparisons to the relatively comparable maritime nations of Georgia and Israel. Although they differ in maritime and naval capability, location and membership in international organisations, Georgia and Israel are useful comparisons to the Baltic states for this purpose for a number of reasons: the size of their populations and economies, their long-­time historic maritime cultures with relatively short independent ‘state’ histories, they all border the eastern end of their seas at a strategic geographical location with respect to international shipping, the maritime sector is important to each and, last, they share borders with nations that have competitive (as opposed to cooperative) political agendas and significant military, naval and maritime capabilities. The Baltic, Mediterranean and Black Seas are all similar in that they are ‘mature’ seas – with functioning navies or coastguards that ensure local and international maritime laws are policed and enforced; that enjoy productive diplomatic relations with (most of ) their neighbours and maritime disputes are resolved via internationally recognised processes. They can also all be considered boundary seas: for example, the maritime security and trade border between the EU and Russia in the Baltic Sea. All three seas could quickly transition to ‘contested’ seas – as they have many times over the distant and recent past.1 The most recent examples of such transitions in the Black Sea are Russia’s 2014 seizure of the majority of Ukraine’s naval facilities during the illegal annexation of Crimea and their 2008 destruction of the Georgian Navy. Preventing or minimising the

118  William Combes d­ uration of such a transition is the responsibility of the state through policies, forces and cooperative agreements and treaties that encompass the broad range of capabilities and activities that are necessary to secure the maritime domain. In other words, their maritime security strategies. These maritime security strategies do not exist for Estonia, Latvia or Lithuania. To be fair, very few states do have maritime security strategies; no matter their size. Since these maritime strategies do not exist, henceforth the word ‘strategy’ will be used to refer to any official written or published government position (‘de-­facto’ strategies) on a plan to advance maritime security. These de facto maritime strategies may include maritime security or naval policies stated in national military strategies, laws or other government public documents, and maritime security capabilities and force structures. This is not the typical ends-­ ways-means understanding of what a strategy document must contain to be truly effective as a guide to the military or other government agencies. The main reason is that the ‘ways’ and ‘means’ may not yet exist in the proper form, as will be shown. National discussions on what the ‘ends’ should be is a key precursor and the formal statement of these ‘ends’ in a concept or policy document is a necessary first step. These de-­facto strategies will be analysed, along with actual force structure and capabilities against a proposed hypothetical standard for a very small coastal navy to protect its maritime frontiers from threats emanating from that direction. Last, recommendations will be made based on both general observations and the comparisons in order to champion the formal promulgation of maritime security strategies in order to improve the Baltic states’ maritime security and ultimately their sovereignty and overall security.

Maritime character Estonia is a sea-­faring nation with a maritime character. The nation’s significant coastline (over 3000 km) and more than 1500 islands, with 74 per cent of the population living in coastal areas, account for 82 per cent of gross value added to the economy.2 Efforts at ensuring maritime security are important to the control of illegal activities along this border – the trafficking of drugs, humans or other contraband, illegal fishing and the protection from other threats including unexploded mines remaining from the nearly 80,000 that were placed into the Baltic Sea during the course of the Second World War.3 But its border with the sea is more than something that needs to be guarded for self-­defence or patrolled to prevent illegal activity – it is an extension of the state and vital to its cultural identity. It is also of significant economic importance. Estonia’s maritime economic activities include shipbuilding and ship repair, water projects, short-­sea shipping and deep-­sea shipping, fish for human consumption, ferry and cruise ships, and yachting and marinas.4 Approximately half of Estonia’s US$15.3 billion of imports and US$13.4 billion of exports, including foreign goods processed for transhipment, are transported to or from Estonia via sea vessels – 35 million metric tons of cargo.5

Maritime security strategies for small states  119 The economies of Latvia and Lithuania, like Estonia and all of the nations bordering the Baltic Sea, are also dependent on the maritime. While Latvia has less than a quarter of the amount of coastline of Estonia, it has a larger population in these areas that add around 77 per cent of value to its economy. Like Estonia, Latvia maritime-­related economic activities include short-­and deep-­sea shipping, fishing for human consumption, ferry and passenger services, and coastal tourism.6 Of the Baltic states, Lithuania has the shortest coast (in fact, one of the shortest of all coastal nations) at 90 km and only a tenth of its population (although the most populous of the three Baltic states) living in coastal areas.7 This does not mean that maritime economic activities are any less important to Lithuania, which shares a border with the Russian exclave of Kaliningrad. In addition to shipping, fishing, shipbuilding and coastal tourism, the liquid natural gas terminal in Klaipeda is key to the security and diversity of the Baltic states’ energy supply. As are undersea electrical cables that supply Lithuania from Sweden (and Estonia from Finland). Additionally, vessels transiting the Baltic in the vicinity of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania to and from Finland, Sweden and Russia include those of the types mentioned above plus natural gas, oil and other natural resource carriers.8 All of these activities rely on access to the Baltic Sea or high seas freedoms codified in international law. Maritime security and the international law concept of the freedom of the seas is often taken for granted as a ‘given’ for conducting a state’s business both within and outside of its territorial waters. Some refer to this as sea blindness.9 This appears true in relation to all seafaring nations regardless of size. The importance of the freedom of the seas and maritime security is only fully realised when they are taken away, curtailed or otherwise proven inadequate – due to war, criminal activity or another state’s illegal actions short of war or the unsanctioned use of force. Loss of high seas freedoms does not even need to be local in order to affect a nation – piracy off the Horn of Africa is just one recent example.10 It is important that national power, whether military, economic, diplomatic or soft, is utilised to ensure the continuation of these freedoms and the enforcement of internally and externally accepted rules, norms and laws. How various nations interpret and implement maritime security involves many factors; such as sovereignty, the quest for resources, bilateral defence treaties, competing ideologies, access for future operations, protecting trade (mariners, cargo, vessels and routes), maritime industry activities and other complex political dynamics. The Baltic states are three very small, independent and sovereign nations that share membership in the same international organisations (NATO and the EU particularly) and a common threat. Similarly, they all have naval and constabulary capabilities with a similar focus, economically important growing maritime industries and economic dependence on goods, energy and services that rely on transport over or transmission under the Baltic Sea.

120  William Combes

Maritime security and coastal powers In contrast to most of the literature on the topic, the hierarchy of navies can be simplified to focus on only three types: naval power, coastal power and non-­ existent. Very small maritime nations do not have the option to be either naval powers, due to the resources they have available, or to be non-­existent, due to their reliance on the sea for their economic prosperity. Coastal navies or coastal powers have been subject to different definitions,11 but the key here is that all coastal nations, even very small ones, need to have some constabulary and deterrent naval capability to protect their national borders from maritime threats. Why not aspire to be a naval power? First, a coastal power and a naval power have different priorities. The coastal power’s main and perhaps only concern is their own maritime security as defined later in this chapter. It may project some of its capabilities beyond its territory because it is required to do so as part of a treaty or other organisational membership, but these are capabilities it needs for itself and its own maritime security that it chooses to share with others in exchange for the assurance of future assistance in capabilities it lacks. In addition to a robust maritime security capability, a naval power, on the other hand, can project power beyond its EEZ and has the capability to establish sea control beyond its EEZ.12 Next, by concentrating primarily on effectively implementing local maritime security, a coastal power can coordinate its naval and constabulary capabilities to ensure the protection and security of its maritime borders while developing the capabilities, capacity and cooperation with international partners necessary to ensure they are up to the state-­on-state sea denial challenge that would be the ultimate test of the effectiveness of their ability to protect their own nation. Last, the financial, equipment, logistic and manpower requirements to maintain a naval power’s power projection and sea control naval capabilities are so high that most coastal powers could not afford to enter this club. Thinking about or trying to can deflect discourse and resources from the key maritime security capabilities it does need unless national interests and careful planning prevent it from doing so. Let us assume then that the maritime security capabilities of a very small coastal power should be able to accomplish a number of specific missions. One well-­reasoned view, applied to Norway, is that there are three basic missions: to protect and control the nation’s maritime natural resources, to defend against and repel violations of its territorial waters and to defend against an invasion from the sea with both intra- and inter-­state cooperation.13 These are a combination of constabulary and sea-­denial deterrence activities. These three missions can be broadened into seven dimensions of maritime security, once again containing a mix of activities that could be considered constabulary and naval, with the addition of a third, perhaps scientific administrative dimension. These seven dimensions are state-­on-state, trade protection, resource management, smuggling prevention, terrorism prevention, disaster response and oceanography.14 Technically, these dimensions are threat independent – the

Maritime security strategies for small states  121 c­ apabilities are required to accomplish the activities that the current legal regime imposes on a maritime nation by the very nature of its sovereignty. That a contemporary credible threat exists, be it a threatening nation, a criminal organisation, a terrorist organisation etc., will only increase the necessity to invest beyond the bare minimum in any dimension. The ‘state-­on-state’ dimension of maritime security is the dimension in which the traditional ‘military’ combat effects of naval power are applicable. NATO doctrine mirrors most contemporary naval theorists in attempting to classify naval combat effects into three activities: sea control, sea denial, power projection.15 The key defensive role of coastal navies is sea denial. Sea denial, like the other combat activities, can be accomplished by using various naval warfare capabilities, anti-­ surface, anti-­ submarine, anti-­ air, naval mine etc. Similarly, a number of platforms (ships, submarines, aircraft, shore batteries, missile systems etc.) can execute these capabilities with a variety of ordnance types. What is important is that the threat can be identified, a national platform can by directed and a weapon of some kind can be deployed that will eradicate the threat or cause it to abandon the battle space. The important first step in this process is the identification and location of the threat. This is why Sloggett and others stress the importance of robust maritime domain awareness.16 Seaward from the shore, this situational awareness occupies a four-­dimensional space – air, surface, subsurface and cyber (monitoring and protecting your electronic signals and systems). The equally important second step is the required command and control decision-­making activities accomplished by a manned operations centre to process that information on an active threat, determine the appropriate response and obtain the required permissions to act on the threat. Of course, this requires that capable operational assets with applicable ordnance must be directed to the threat with procedures and legal authorities on the use of force in order to eliminate or destroy it. A summary of these maritime security dimensions, identified by some of the maritime constabulary and naval capabilities required to effectively implement security in these dimensions, is shown in Table 9.1. It also includes the aforementioned enabling activities. Countries that can string these enablers together – the MDA to see the problem, the command and control to direct action and the operational military platforms to destroy the threat – in the maritime domain will have sea denial capability. If they have it in all three physical domains (air, surface, subsurface) at critical approaches to their coast, throughout the breadth of their territorial waters or even over their whole EEZ, then they can deter and deny foreign state-­ on-state aggression. This is a tall order for very small states, who may be satisfied with the capability to defend critical maritime infrastructure and key portions of internal waters, while being able to detect and challenge encroachments into their EEZs and territorial waters and have capable allies ready to respond on their behalf. These enablers apply across the breadth of the maritime security dimensions. This implies that significant interagency cooperation is required in the maritime

Table 9.1  Maritime capability to dimension matrix (after Sloggett) Dimension

Maritime Capability

Dimension

Maritime Capability

State-on-State

Project Naval Power beyond EEZ Defend Seaward Maritime Airspace Defend Seaward Maritime Surface Defend Seaward Maritime Subsurface Defend Coastline Defend Critical Infrastructure Defend Maritime Facilities Defend Internal Waters Challenge EEZ/TTW Encroachment

Trade Protection

Maritime Interdiction Operations (VBSS) Maritime Search and Rescue Anti-Piracy Operations Maritime and Coastal Law Enforcement Vessel Management Port/Container Security Navigation Aid Management

Resource Management

Fishing Management/Law Enforcement Resource Management/Enforcement Pollution Prevention/Mitigation Coastal Facility Management

Smuggling

Anti-Smuggling Interdiction Operations Anti-Smuggling Law Enforcement

Disasters

Maritime Search and Rescue Civilian Evacuation Humanitarian Assistance

Terrorism

Anti-Terrorism Interdiction Operations Anti-Terrorism Law Enforcement Critical Infrastructure Protection

Oceanography

Ocean Bottom Mapping Bathymetry Meteorology/Tides/Currents Pollution Monitoring

Enabling Activities

Maritime Domain Awareness Maritime Information Centre

Disaster/Threat Response Plan Legal Authorities

Maritime security strategies for small states  123 domain; where needed maritime security capabilities are spread between constabulary, military and other governmental organisations. This is particularly true in the case of hybrid threats and their non-­military character. Another area that requires similar cross-­agency cooperation and activity to ensure security is that of the cyber domain.

Maritime security in the Baltic states What are Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania’s approach to maritime security? This turns out to be very complex. As mentioned, the three Baltic states do not have formal or informal maritime security strategies, doctrines or concepts, but their broader national defence or security concepts and the national laws that pertain to them are also particularly light on specifics with respect to their sea services’ roles in maritime security. While all three nations’ navies publish similar statements with respect to their roles and functions – protecting their nations’ seaward approaches, with a focus on mine warfare – they appear to be relatively similar from a numerical analysis of personnel, equipment and ships (see Table 9.2); their maritime organisations are organised differently. These differences not only effect their navies’ practical approaches to maritime security, but can provide barriers to broader cooperation in the maritime domain. Consider for example Estonia’s most recent Concept for National Security.18 While economic, energy and cybersecurity are mentioned explicitly, maritime security is not. The concept states that, with regards to its military defence: ‘Estonia defends its mainland territory, territorial sea, peripheral bodies of water, air space and cyberspace in all circumstances, however overwhelming the opponent, using the capabilities of both conventional and asymmetric warfare.’ It also stresses the importance of international cooperation and participation; the Table 9.2  Baltic state maritime forces, maritime security agencies17

Patrol and Coastal Mine Warfare Submarines Amphibious Logistics/ Support Agencies

Estonia

Latvia

Lithuania

Georgia

Israel

13 [13]

14 [3]

7 [3]

21 [21]

45

 4  0   3 [3]   1 [1]

 6  0  0  1

4 0 2 [2] 1

 0  0   1 [1]  0

 *  5  2  3

Navy Police and Border Guard

Navy and Navy Coastguard Coast Guard State Border State Border Guard Guard

IDF Navy

Notes Numbers in brackets indicate number that belong to non-naval paramilitary agencies. Total numbers reflect these quantities. * Israel’s patrol and coastal vessels have mine warfare capabilities.

124  William Combes collective defence afforded by its membership in NATO, the EU, regional and bilateral interstate relationships to actively participate in regional cooperation and strategies to resolve security issues. When it comes to filling the gaps in their maritime security enablers and capabilities, the Baltic states need both collective defence and working regional maritime security cooperative frameworks. Unfortunately, since fully functional maritime security frameworks do not yet exist, this cooperation is achieved in an ad hoc manner. And when it comes to executing the enablers and capabilities required across the dimensions of maritime security, these gaps are significant. For example, the Baltic states do not have full, integrated or shared maritime domain awareness coverage of their territorial seas, EEZs or approaches. Each has some, to varying degrees, shared by a multitude of national agencies, with mixed success, for use across the spectrum of peacetime and wartime operations and contingencies.19 The record of intrastate and interstate agency sharing of this picture at the military level over the Baltic Sea is mixed. The fact that it was recently stated that NATO had a complete air and maritime picture of the Baltic Sea for the first time during BALTOPS 2017 is telling in this regard.20 Once a maritime threat is detected, there is not an operations centre currently in place with the required legal authority to direct the appropriate level of response across the dimensions of maritime security in a timely matter. All three nations do have naval and other operations centres responsible for responding to assigned naval and constabulary emergencies, threats and activities. This approach is not sufficient or efficient. To be so, an operations centre with the authorities to direct action across the breadth of the maritime security dimensions would be. One that also has responsibility and authority to cooperate and act across the Baltic states’ collective maritime space or that spans the entire Baltic Sea would be even better. A Baltic Sea-­wide operations centre would require cross coordination and participation between NATO, Sweden and Finland. Broader military and maritime NATO and bilateral cooperation with Sweden and Finland is on the rise following Russia’s illegal annexation of Crimea, adventurism in the Donbas and general maritime military aggressiveness in the Baltic and Black Seas. The recently stood-­up Baltic Maritime Component Command in Rostock, Germany, is a good place for such a regional operations centre (as has already been recommended by others for a Baltic Sea region MDA fusion centre21). The Baltic states lack the sea denial capability necessary to deny access to their maritime approaches.22 The reasons for this are two-­fold. The portion of the Baltic states’ budgets available for total defence spending, while at or over the NATO recommended 2 per cent, is relatively small and the amount dedicated to the maritime insufficient. What naval investments they have made are focused on mine warfare. While their naval forces have the capability to harass and perhaps slow a potential state-­on-state attack from the maritime direction, they lack sufficient indigenous anti-­air, anti-­surface and anti-­submarine sea-, air- or land-­based national platforms and capabilities to deny this threat. For this they rely on NATO’s collective defence.

Maritime security strategies for small states  125 There is a budding initiative for the Baltic states to cooperate in the future towards a combined shared navy. A model for such a scheme exists already in Europe, the BeNeLux naval cooperation between Belgium and the Netherlands. The development of shared purchasing, operations and maintenance of a future fleet would reduce costs and benefit all three Baltic states. The Baltic states have a long history of successful cooperation on security issues. This cooperation is not, however, as extensive as others outside the region may assume or expect. Not only are they each very small, but as you would suspect as separate sovereign nations they have different social, cultural and political backgrounds and institutions. Their security goals, however, share the same security threats and aims. That is why broader naval cooperation should follow in the footsteps of BALTNET, and the Baltic Defence College, two extremely successful examples of cooperation in the combined air defence and officer professional military education of the three nations.23 Until regional maritime security frameworks are realised and Baltic state and Baltic Sea Region cooperation is enhanced, the Baltic states are each susceptible to the type of maritime tactics Russia used against Georgia in the 2008 Russo-­ Georgian War as described in the next section. For responding to this they rely on the collective defence guaranteed by their membership in NATO. Deterrence in the maritime domain will be enhanced by the decision at the 2018 Brussels Summit to launch the NATO Readiness Initiative (the so-­called 30–30–30–30 initiative with its 30 major naval combatants available for NATO’s use within 30 days).24 How to structure for those first 30 days of a state-­on-state crisis? National resilience is key, but so is a more frequent NATO or Baltic Sea Nation presence in the Baltic during times of peace in order to provide deterrence and a framework for that presence: maritime forces that are not only present, but legally authorised to respond to maritime security challenges identified by the operations centre during peacetime.

Georgia’s coastguard – a naval force? Georgia serves as a useful comparison for the Baltic states maritime security for a number of reasons. While Georgia’s population (approximately 4.7 million) is larger than any individual Baltic state, its overall GDP is on par with Estonia’s. They share an uncooperative large neighbour that is not just a threat, but used military force against it during the 2008 Russo-­Georgian War, and continues to use military forces on its internationally recognised sovereign territory in Abkhazia and South-­Ossetia. Russia’s Black Sea Fleet is also comparatively similar to their Baltic Sea Fleet, with the exception of more Kilo class submarines.25 The Black Sea is a mature sea, but the fragility of such a designation is on full display here. In addition to Russia’s use of naval force against Georgia, its illegal annexation of Crimea has upended the internationally recognised legal regime of the Black Sea to Ukraine’s detriment.26 Georgia is a key example of the failure to deter or delay a state-­on-state maritime security threat. Due to its own focus on land and air military threats leading

126  William Combes up to the 2008 Russo-­Georgian War, Georgia did not have the capability to deny current Russian naval forces from projecting power into their EEZs, territorial waters, port facilities and other littoral areas and establishing temporary sea control in those regions. Russia’s maritime tactics involved the deployment of a battle fleet of nearly all of the capable and sea-­worthy Black Sea Fleet, which in 2008 numbered approximately a dozen vessels. The significantly outnumbered Georgian Navy, instead of opting to inflict what damage it could in order to delay, hinder or reduce the combat capability of the opposing Russian forces, decided to abandon the scene of battle at sea following the destruction of at least one patrol boat. The ultimate result was a sinking of the small number of Georgian naval assets, patrol boats and gunboats, in their homeport of Poti, temporary control of those port facilities in Poti, an amphibious landing of Russian forces in Abkhazia to aid land forces there and a short economic maritime blockade of Georgia. Russian naval forces returned to their Sevastopol bases on Crimea (shortly after the initial announcement of the ceasefire and well before any international naval forces arrived).27 Following the 2008 Russia–Georgia War, with significant Western assistance and financing, Georgia now has a capable coastguard. Ignoring Georgia’s crucial nascent maritime security capabilities by declaring simply that ‘Georgia does not possess military naval capabilities’28 fails to recognise the military, para-­military and non-­military maritime capabilities required across the dimensions of maritime security to secure very small states’ maritime borders and the key role that the enablers and international cooperation and assistance play in this security. We should not discount a small nation’s naval forces because they are not called a navy or do not directly report during peacetime to a military commander. Georgia’s coastguard acts as its navy when interacting and cooperating with other navies on the Black Sea. It is now more capable than the force that was destroyed by the Russian Black Sea Fleet. With new patrol boats, training centre and command centre, it is perhaps more prepared for integration with NATO naval forces in the event they need assistance in the future. The drawback, shared with Estonia’s Police and Border Guard, is that since this is not a ‘military’ force, cooperation during peacetime and preparation for wartime contingencies with military forces need to be war-­gamed, developed and rehearsed in order to be effective.

Israel – a small nation with a very capable navy The Mediterranean Sea is also a ‘mature’ sea with many of the same characteristics as the Baltic Sea. For this reason, a useful comparison for research purposes is Israel. Its population (approximately 8.7 million) is on par with the combined Baltic states (approximately 6.1 million), as are the per-­capita gross domestic products (at 24.9, 29, 28.8, 29 and 36.6 thousand US$ per year for Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania and Israel, respectively).29 Other characteristics also contribute to making this comparative analysis apropos: the Baltic states and Israel all have long-­time historic maritime cultures with a relatively short independent ‘state’

Maritime security strategies for small states  127 history, they both border the eastern end of their seas at a strategic geographical location with respect to international shipping and, last, they share borders with nations that have competitive (as opposed to cooperative) political agendas. The differences being that national existential threats and not hypothetical risks, but rather clear maritime security dangers exist that must be countered by continually present, trained and ready operational forces. These state-­ on-state threats and Israel’s reliance on the maritime for the majority (99 per cent) of their imports and exports has resulted in its navy’s successful development of a significant and very capable power projection coastal navy despite political and institutional sea blindness.30 In Israel’s case, this sea apathy is also due to a focus on the not insignificant land and air security threats. The harder these other borders became, the more threats and attacks, particularly with respect to state-­sponsored terrorism, increased from the sea.31 So, while Israel has no published naval or maritime security strategy, its proportionally larger (when compared to the Baltic states) navy organisations and naval and maritime strategists lobbied for increased capabilities and investments. They leveraged investments with will and innovation so that they were able to continually adapt, develop and improve. The IDF navy is also their coastguard, something that may also be important for small states. This change was implemented as a result of the aforementioned increased terrorist activity emanating from the Mediterranean. Funding multiple sea services with limited personnel, equipment and resources makes it hard for each to succeed unless interagency cooperation is working perfectly. The presence of a threat that transcends the constabulary and military dimensions of maritime security may also lead to a more holistic approach.32

Sea apathy – a barrier to a maritime security strategy Estonian, Latvia and Lithuania do not have a maritime strategy or even military strategies, concepts or plans with a dedicated naval or maritime section or focus. Sea blindness can be defined as a failure to appreciate the essential maritime component in most human activities.33 And we all, even land-­locked nations, rely on the use of the sea for many facets of our lives whether we realise it or not.34 Once appreciated, a failure to act would be apathy – in this case sea apathy. The main causes of sea blindness or apathy, particularly in very small nations, appear to be mature seas, threats are not visible or appreciated and the high cost of investing in effective maritime security capabilities. This blindness or apathy results in a failure of imagination and action that reduces the effectiveness of national maritime security efforts. In a mature sea, the maritime economy appears to be self-­regulating. Naval powers systematically benefit from maintaining the maturity, or allusion of maturity, of the sea. This is particularly true in the Baltic, which all Baltic Sea states, including Russia, rely on for successful economic prosperity. It is further assumed that the primary naval power in the region, the US and NATO, will take care of those items that are not self-­regulated by the maritime economic

128  William Combes system. This can be problematic in the Baltic Sea because, when NATO naval forces are not present, Russia is the regional naval power. Threats are not normally present or seen as significantly less of a risk compared to threats that could emanate from the land, air or even cyberspace. Once the maritime threats are present, unless they are detected and direct positive action is taken immediately with available capabilities, it will be too late to take action – the case of Georgia’s navy in 2008. This is particularly more pronounced if prior action was not taken to ensure the capability exists to immediately counter the threat that materialises. The cost of protection appears too great when compared to both the threat and, where very small states are concerned, the expensive nature of the required platforms and systems to have a capable sea denial force to the standard proposed by most naval theorists. Particularly true also for very small coastal navies, but not untrue for larger navies, political realities may intrude in the form of inter-­agency financial budgetary manoeuvring. Perhaps the best way to counter sea blindness or apathy is to go through the exercise of developing and publishing a maritime strategy. The inter-­agency dialogue necessary to produce it will increase the broader knowledge of all participants to the complex nature of maritime security. The resultant public and political discourse can clear the fog that leads to sea-­apathy. Regional and international cooperation can cover unaffordable capabilities and enablers; this assistance would be more effective and likely more forthcoming if a very small nation’s strategy clearly defined the threat, stated their maritime security enablers and capabilities, and those that needed to be filled by partners.

A maritime security strategy for very small states In one article in the Estonian press following the 2017 Warsaw Security Forum, one maritime analyst’s solution to deter Russian aggression in the Baltic Sea was to spend more money.35 For very small states, it is necessary to wisely spend the amount of money that is necessary to meet your national security needs. For this you need goals – a maritime security strategy. Another important global common and security domain is that of cyber. Like the sea and maritime security, the importance, management and implementation of cybersecurity cuts across many national and international agencies. Amazingly, all NATO and partnership countries have a ‘Cyber Strategy’ posted at the NATO Cooperative Cyber Defence Center of Excellence website.36 Cyber capabilities are an important element of Estonia’s actual and soft power and national pride. Estonia’s cyber physical connections to the world run through cables under the Baltic Sea, not in some celestial domain. How to protect the security of these conduits should also be worthy of national thought, discussion and documentation in the form of a maritime security strategy. This maritime security strategy, whether called a strategy, policy, concept or other term, does not need to meet the classic requirements of strategy – ends, ways and means. Initially, specifying the ‘ends’ should be a sufficient starting

Maritime security strategies for small states  129 point (as the Estonian Ministry of Economic Affairs and Communications 2014 Cyber Security Strategy does). And, like the aforementioned document, it can be written by one of the organisations responsible with the goal of raising public and government awareness, fostering cooperation and synergy, and ultimately stimulating coordination of the ‘ways’ and funding of the ‘means’. Others37 have stated that the Baltic states would each be well served by developing and publishing a maritime security strategy. The exercise of a nation thinking about its maritime situation, the threats thereto and the importance of the maritime domain to the national economy and security, and verbalising how it wants to preserve this key national attribute into the future will focus government and public discourse. The threats to maritime security and the importance of MDA and the response to those threats transcend the state-­on-state dimension. Proposed solutions could not only assist the Baltic states and the other Baltic Sea nations in protecting their sovereignty from the other softer and equally important threats to maritime security, but may also benefit them more than they currently realise in the high-­end fight of state-­on-state aggression. Such a strategy would discuss the maritime situation, the threats and the importance of the maritime domain to the national economy and security, and verbalising how it wants to efficiently and effectively tackle the maritime missions it needs to ensure its security. This strategy would identify the important investments required in order to ensure a robust MDA, capable and responsive operational centres and coordinated or shared maritime security purchasing between the Baltic states to ensure compatibility and to reduce acquisition costs. It would also explicitly state where cooperation was required, and with whom. Last, it would identify the necessary legal authorities to make this cooperation possible across the dimensions of maritime security during peacetime, escalation and armed conflict. Consider Poland, not a very small nation, but a nation with a new and well thought out maritime doctrine.38 This ‘strategy’ is laid out similar to this chapter – what is maritime security, why Poland is a maritime nation, who performs maritime security duties and what they need to do now and in the future to ensure their maritime security. They also recognise that, even with their size and realistic capabilities, that international cooperation and support, with both the EU and NATO, are necessary to ensure its maritime security. Perhaps this document, modified for their individual or collective use, could serve as a starting point for Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. In the case of Estonia, a lot of the hard work has been done.39 All maritime security stakeholders in Estonia participated in an investigation led by the Estonian National Defence College into future options for the organisation of their maritime security apparatus. It noted the deficiencies in capabilities across the dimensions of maritime security listed previously in Table 9.1. While the proposed options are sound, they do not account for either the unique nature of very small nations, how these options will solve their capability shortfalls, nor the key role that cooperation amongst the Baltic states and their Baltic Sea nation partners and NATO allies must figure into any proposed solution.

130  William Combes A strategy is just the first step. The most important investments and activities for a very small nation are those required in order to ensure a robust MDA, a capable and responsive operational centre and coordinated or shared maritime security purchasing between the Baltic states of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania to ensure compatibility and to reduce acquisition costs. A combined and cooperative Naval Operational Centre, or the maritime capability of a Joint Operational Centre, authorised to respond across the dimensions of maritime security would best focus the MDA and maritime security capabilities of the nations of the Baltic Sea region to mutual benefit. A standing operations centre would also facilitate the planning, rehearsal and implementation of the needed high-­end NATO naval forces and capabilities that the Baltic states are relying on in the case of Russian state-­on-state aggression. To complete the MDA picture and to execute the high-­end warfare military missions requires NATO or other nations’ assistance and forces at sea on modern and capable vessels that are outside of the budgetary constraints of very small nations. Other sea denial capabilities, and the majority of the other constabulary maritime security enforcement capabilities, can only be executed by their sailors (whatever uniform they wear) ashore and at sea manning lower cost but still expensive modern vessels and weapons systems. Sharing the development, production and maintenance costs of these required equipment, whether they are patrol boats or mine warfare ships, and other high-­end warfighting armaments, is perhaps the only way for very small nations to afford the capabilities they need.

Conclusion Protecting and securing their maritime security and access to the sea is vital to the future security of every maritime nation. This chapter quantified the importance and value of this access to the Baltic Sea for the Baltic states, alluded to challenges posed to future access for these three very small nations and recommended policies to promote the continued security and prosperity of their maritime element – starting with the development of national maritime security strategies that incorporate shared responsibility between the three and their neighbours and allies. Lastly, we need to change the way we think about very small coastal navies. Coastal navies need to identify and document their specific maritime security needs and build their forces and capabilities to meet their requirements – requirements that span the constabulary and military dimensions of maritime security. In order to be effective at maritime security, very small nations need to cooperate at the local, regional and international level across the dimensions of maritime security to ensure the necessary enablers and military and constabulary capabilities are available, working and effective. That is why this discussion needs to be a ‘maritime security’ discussion and not a ‘naval’ one – so they can successfully secure their maritime spaces.

Maritime security strategies for small states  131

Notes   1 See William Combes, ‘Value of the Freedom of the Seas’ (SSRN, 2013), for a more detailed discussion on the four types of seas: mature, contested, transitional and ungoverned.   2 European Networking Group for Integrated Maritime Policy, ‘Study on Blue Growth, Maritime Policy and the EU Strategy for the Baltic Sea Region Final Report’ (European Commission, 2013), www.eurofish.dk/.  3 Eesti Kaitsevägi, ‘Navy – Kaitsevägi’, Estonian Navy, accessed 10 October 2017, www.mil.ee/en/navy.   4 European Networking Group for Integrated Maritime Policy, ‘Study on Blue Growth, Maritime Policy and the EU Strategy’, 6–8.   5 Kairit Põder, ed., Eesti Statistika Aastaraamat=Statistical Yearbook of Estonia 2016 (Tallinn: Statistics Estonia, 2016).   6 European Networking Group for Integrated Maritime Policy, ‘Study on Blue Growth, Maritime Policy and the EU Strategy’, 13–14.  7 Ibid., 15–16.   8 Marek Blus and Przemyslaw Myszka, eds., Baltic Yearbook 2015/16 (Gdynia, Poland: Baltic Press, 2016).   9 For example, Seth Cropsey, Seablindness: How Political Neglect Is Choking Amer­ican Seapower and What to Do about It (New York/London: Encounter Books, 2017). 10 Jonathan Bellish, ‘The Economic Cost of Somali Piracy 2012’ (Oceans Beyond Piracy, 2013), http://oceansbeyondpiracy.org/sites/default/files/attachments/View%20 Full%20Report_3.pdf; Martin N. Murphy, Contemporary Piracy and Maritime Terrorism: The Threat to International Security, Adelphi Paper, no. 388 (Abingdon: Routledge for the International Institute for Strategic Studies, 2007). 11 Rolf Hobson and Tom Kristiansen, Navies in Northern Waters 1721–2000 (London: Taylor Francis Group, 2006); Michael Lindberg, Geographical Impact on Coastal Defense Navies: The Entwining of Force Structure, Technology and Operational Environment (London: Macdonald & Co., 1998). 12 Geoffrey Till, Seapower: A Guide for the Twenty-­First Century (London: Routledge, 2013). 13 Jacob Børresen, ‘Coastal Power: The Sea Power of the Coastal State and the Management of Maritime Resources’, in Navies in Northern Waters 1721–2000, ed. R. Hobson and T. Kristiansen (London: Taylor Francis Group, 2006). 14 David Sloggett, The Anarchic Sea: Maritime Security in the Twenty-­First Century (London: Hurst & Company, 2013). 15 NATO, ‘Allied Joint Doctrine for Maritime Operations’ (NATO Standardization Office, 2016). 16 See David Slogget, The Anarchic Sea: Maritime Security in the 21st Century (New Delhi: Pentagon Press, 2014). 17 International Institute for Strategic Studies, The Military Balance 2019. (London: Routledge, 2019). 18 Estonian Republic, ‘National Security Concept 2017’ (Tallinn: Eesti Riigikogu, 2017). 19 Andrew Metrick and Kathleen H Hicks, Contested Seas: Maritime Domain Awareness in Northern Europe (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2018). 20 Dr Lee Willett, ‘NATO Generates Baltic Integrated Air-­Maritime Picture for First Time’, Janes 360, 15 June 2017, www.janes.com/article/71439/nato-­generates-baltic-­ integrated-air-­maritime-picture-­for-first-­time. 21 Metrick and Hicks, Contested Seas. 22 Jaan Murumets, Andres Saumets, and Kaitseväe Ühendatud Õppeasutused, eds., Eesti Merejulgeolek: Uuringu Raport (Estonian Maritime Security: Investigative Report) (Tartu: Eesti Ülikoolide Kirjastus, 2016).

132  William Combes 23 Uģis Romanovs and Māris Andžāns, ‘The Trilateral Military Cooperation of the Baltic states in the ‘New Normal’ Security Landscape’, in The Riga Conference Papers 2017, eds. Sprūds and Andžāns (Riga, 2017). 24 NATO, ‘Brussels Summit Declaration’ (NATO, 2018). 25 IISS, The Military Balance, 2019. 26 Jason Y. Osuga, ‘Building an Asymmetric Ukrainian Naval Force to Defend the Sea’, Center for International Maritime Security (blog), 5 September 2017, http://cimsec. org/building-­asymmetric-ukrainian-­naval-force-­defend-sea-­azov-pt-­1/33756. 27 Dmitry Gorenburg, ‘The Russian Black Sea Fleet After the Georgian War’, PonarsEuarasia – Policy Memos, 23 July 2012, www.ponarseurasia.org/memo/russian-­ black-sea-­fleet-after-­georgian-war. 28 IHS Janes, World Navies, 20 (UK: Couldson, 2017). 29 Ricardo Hausmann et al., The Atlas of Economic Complexity: Mapping Paths to Prosperity (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2014). 30 Ze’ev Almog, ‘Israeli Naval Power: An Essential Factor in the Operational Battlefield’, Military and Strategic Affairs 3, no. 1 (2011): 29–51. 31 Ze’ev Almog, ‘Fighting Terrorist Acts from the Sea – Updated Article.Pdf ’, n.d. 32 For more on Israel maritime security see Shaul Chorev and Ehud Gonen, eds., Maritime Strategic Evaluation for Israel 2016 (Haifa: Haifa Research Center for Maritime Policy and Strategy, University of Haifa, 2016), http://poli.haifa.ac.il/~hms/images/ publications/EN_Report_/EN_Report.pdf. 33 Joachim Krause and Sebastian Bruns, Routledge Handbook of Naval Strategy and Security (London; New York, NY: Routledge, 2016). 34 James Kraska and Raul Pedrozo, International Maritime Security Law (Brill, 2013). 35 Evelyn Kaldoja, ‘Läänemerel näeb pingelist Vene-­NATO vastasseisu’, Postimees, 10 November 2017, https://pluss.postimees.ee/4306409/laanemerel-­naeb-pingelist-­venenato-­vastasseisu. 36 Cyber Defence Centre of Excellence, NATO, ‘Cyber Security Strategy Documents’, accessed 5 September 2018, https://ccdcoe.org/cyber-­ security-strategy-­ documents. html. 37 Chris Barrows, ‘Estonian MDA TTX Report – April 2017.Pdf ’ (NAVEUR, 2017). 38 Poland, National Security Bureau, ‘Poland’s Strategic Concept of Maritime Security’ (Poland: National Security Bureau, 2017). 39 Murumets et al. (eds.), Eesti Merejulgeolek: Uuringu Raport (Tartu: Estonian National Defence College, 2016).

10 Bulwark and balancing act The strategic role of the Royal Norwegian Navy Tor Ivar Strømmen

Introduction This chapter will explore, explain and attempt to rationalise the strategic roles of the Royal Norwegian Navy (RNoN) as a tailor-­made navy for Norway’s specific strategic environment and strategic requirements, hereunder the balancing act between existential military-­ strategic requirements and other maritime and security interests that Norwegian naval forces must protect. According to Corbett, the strategic role or roles of a navy is determined by what part the fleet must play in relation to the action of the land forces, as, according to him, it scarcely needs saying that it is almost impossible that a war can be decided by naval action alone.1 However, rather than a universal truth, Corbett’s revelations are merely rough guidelines applicable under specific conditions as, in the case of Norway, Corbett’s views on the relationship between land and sea power may arguably be inversely applied. First, as great power rivalry in northern waters is mostly maritime, the strategic interests of others do in fact determine the operations Norwegian armed forces must conduct and thus the kind of war Norway might have to fight. Second, by virtue of its geography, economy and culture, Norway as a coastal state is an overwhelmingly maritime nation with a distinct maritime outlook. Therefore, any conflict in the Norwegian region will be dominated by maritime strategic thinking and have a significant maritime component. Norwegian maritime strategy is thus not subordinated to national military strategy as it, rather than merely complementing it, is a constant, central component within it. Consequently, Norwegian military strategy is maritime strategy. Ergo, any explanation of the Norwegian Navy’s strategic roles must necessarily discuss Norway’s strategic environment and geography, its grand strategy and how Russian strategy specifically and directly shapes Norwegian strategy. The chapter will approach the subject through evaluating empirical data on the basis of existing concepts and theory, using a strategic thinking model.2

134  Tor Ivar Strømmen

Can sea power theory explain the Norwegian Navy’s strategic roles? The most common approach to explain a navy’s role in strategy is by using sea power theory grounded in definitions from the late nineteenth century when naval thinkers such as Corbett and Mahan developed similarly-­minded, historical approaches to describe the broad roles and functions of navies by explaining sea power and its strategic role, use and purpose.3 Taken together, the reflections of classical naval theorists offer a wealth of information and knowledge on various aspects of naval warfare and have, for better or worse, influenced generations of practitioners and theoreticians. Thus, naval warfare and maritime strategy cannot be fully understood without a thorough understanding of the ideas of both great and lesser naval thinkers.4 Unfortunately, these sea power theories all have their origins in syntheses of historical events as naval history constitutes the experience and practice used to verify them. In effect, therefore, sea power theory has an empirical basis but no scientific verification given that their scope, that is, under what conditions and when they apply, remains scientifically unverified.5 One must therefore question whether these theories may be considered normative. Moreover, while Mahan and Corbett’s theories do appear and are generally accepted as general theories, they remain so only from a great power and open sea perspective.6 Consequently, sea power theory is indeed strategic thinking, yet they are developed for a specific context and a specific public. Thus, in validly inferring from contemporary naval strategy and application of maritime power, Mahan and Corbett’s theories – and other sea power theories – do not properly cover the role of small navies in general and the Norwegian Navy in particular. Similarly, a common assumption in naval thinking is that a lesser sea power must necessarily compete symmetrically with its stronger opponent in order to accomplish their goals.7 That is a dangerous and erroneous idea – small navies have distinctive purposes, functions and characteristics in and of their own. As a small nation, Norway’s military-­strategic aims are limited and distinct, allowing tailor-­made naval forces for definite strategic circumstances and objectives – thus they do not have to engage symmetrically to have a strategic effect. Yet, even if sea power theories do not explain or clarify the strategic role of a small navy, they do provide us with a conceptual framework usable for explaining and clarifying this role, but only if we combine these concepts with other theories and a broader strategic outlook.

Defining strategy According to Lawrence Freedman, ‘Strategy is about getting more out of a situation than what the balance of power would suggest. It is the art of creating power.’8 If strategy is the art and science of using military force to achieve political goals by use of or threat of violence, maritime strategy is those principles governing a war where the maritime is a substantial factor.9 Determined by sea

Bulwark and balancing act  135 power’s role in overall strategy, maritime strategy thus prescribes the application of sea power to influence events ashore through what happens at sea or are delivered from the sea.10 A common claim is therefore that an ideal maritime strategy is fully complementary to national military strategy in describing how naval forces can make a strategic difference.11 To understand what this role is one must look at strategy as what connects strategic purposes, i.e. what one wants to achieve, and strategic conditions, i.e. those endogenous and exogenous conditions framing a state’s strategic options. Strategic conditions are nothing but the sum of strategic dimensions such as national policies, foreign politics, command and control, geography, financing, logistics, preparations (administrative, recruiting, training and structure), operations, technology, information and intelligence, the enemy, friction, uncertainty and time.12 Amongst these, geography takes precedence in defining, influencing and delimiting most other dimensions. However, employing such an approach alone could result in the perception of strategy as a rather linear affair, and thus forgetting about what Edward Luttwak calls strategy’s ‘inherent paradox’ where the irrationality of logical contradictions is rational only when achieving strategic ends. Resulting in the main from the interaction between different actors and parties causing strategy to be highly dynamic where actors both adopt and improve while circumstances change, an established fact or way of handling the situation cannot therefore in strategy remain static.13 To that end, strategy is never linear, there is always a thinking, reacting and acting opponent and thus the logical solution is not always, and often not at all, the most effective solution. Consequently, this paradoxical logic in strategy exists regardless of actors or the conflict itself. As per the longstanding Norwegian security policy doctrine, Norway attempts to maintain regional peace and avoid war in the north through what is often-­ times referred to as ‘the dual balancing act’, balancing relations with Russia between deterrence and reassurance achieved in the main through its NATO membership in balancing between integrating and screening alliance commitments.14 While simultaneously striving to develop and maintain armed forces that can successfully fight – alone and with allies – if war is unavoidable, the paradoxical logic of strategy is thus of the outmost importance in Norwegian strategy and strategic thinking.

Norwegian grand-­strategy and its military component As a small state, Norway’s strategy as an overall defensive or status-­ quo approach in its relationship with other states is to a very large degree determined by others’ interest in its territory, airspace and waters rather than Norway’s own ambitions beyond its interrelated grand-­strategic aims of securing its sovereignty, territorial integrity and political freedom of action.15 It is therefore Norway’s absolute and relative geographic position vis-­ à-vis major powers in combination with its strategic resources that determine whether, with what and to what degree other states might use military power against it.

136  Tor Ivar Strømmen All of Norway’s grand-­strategic objectives – which the Norwegian armed forces should contribute towards in interaction with Norway’s financial, diplomatic and psychological means – are by nature defensive. As per the latest Defence White Paper, the Norwegian armed forces’ main raison d’être is to deter potential aggressors and to defend Norway and its allies against external threats and attacks. The White Paper claims that a modern force will – as part of a strong and credible alliance – deter potential adversaries and thus reduce the likelihood of a situation where Norwegian or allied security is challenged to a degree where it must be defended militarily.16 Furthermore, Norway must be able to handle security crises and attacks below a certain threshold by themselves, and maintain preparedness enabling its armed forces to engage an opponent in all domains. According to the Norwegian government, such an ability will, together with a clearly communicated allied commitment, deter potential adversaries.17 Such deterrence is achieved and operationalised through the concept of threshold defence, depending in full on allied support to withstand a military attack.18 From it, four levels may be deduced, all mutually-­dependent and with necessary components of the systematic defence scheme the concept prescribes. At its foundation, allied support functions as the concept’s necessary foundation securing credible deterrence through the collective military capacity of NATO, which can be triggered through NATO article five. The subsequent level prescribes necessary reinforcement, demanding plans for their transportation, reception, staging and utilisation. As such, strategic warning time is of the essence and a significant, determining aspect in affecting both the composition and capabilities of Norway’s own defence and what resources and timeframes are realistic regarding reinforcements. Alignment of Norway’s ability to receive reinforcements with its allies’ timeline concerning both force availability and ability to project them is therefore key. The following level concerns maintenance of the national first line defence: as allied forces are not present in Norway on a permanent basis, and as reinforcements will not appear overnight, Norway’s first line of defence is in the end its own armed forces – the credibility of which rests on its ability to engage immediately and efficiently in all domains. As such a defence for obvious reasons cannot include marked weaknesses for an opponent to exploit, it must therefore be complimentary and balanced between both domains and possible threats while including a wide spectrum of capabilities and means developed in peacetime. Meanwhile, the top level of the Norwegian threshold defence concept figures the continuous and ongoing activities relating to intelligence and surveillance. Aiming at recognising and identifying any preparations for the use of force against Norway as early as possible, it is on this information the timely manner of any effective and efficient utilisation of Norway’s military capabilities and simultaneous commencement of its reinforcement plans ultimately depend.19 Norway’s military strategy is thus in sum primarily about visualising and communicating that the cost related to violating its sovereignty or infringing on

Bulwark and balancing act  137 its territorial integrity is larger than the benefits an aggressor may achieve.20 Norwegian strategy has revolved around such a paradigm for 50 years with the sole purpose of preventing war in or against Norway. Approximating Norwegian deterrence theoretically Unfortunately, the reality markedly differs from the idealised and utopian perceptions upon which the Norwegian threshold defence concept is based. An aggressor’s cost-­benefit calculation of the Norwegian deterrence scheme is not limited to the sum of Norwegian destructive power versus their expected losses in obtaining their strategic objectives. In addition, different force structures and capabilities offer varying abilities to inflict damage while simultaneously influencing the opponent’s threat evaluation – in other words to what extent it considers Norway an interesting, prioritised or even necessary military target in a great power conflict. What deters bilateral use of military power against Norway is thus not the same as what deters aggression against Norway in a great power conflict. Furthermore, a force structure effectively contributing towards preventing war is not necessarily the most effective structure to attain Norwegian strategic objectives in war. In the main, deterrence may be regarded in its simplest form as threats – the essence of which is balance between losses one would risk and benefits one could attain – in order to prevent your opponent’s willingness to act. As risk in this instance is cost multiplied with probability, the purpose of deterrence is to prevent the use of power through presenting the aggressor with an unfavourable ratio of cost versus benefit.21 While considered the traditional view of deterrence, it is also an approach fraught with danger: Given the impossibility of measuring the effect of deterrence, the only viable measurement parameters are retrospective and non-­conclusive. Deterrence thus rest on beliefs and assumptions rather than validated theories and established facts.22 Another approach to understand deterrence is to view it as part of a strategy to manage conflicts. Deterrence then no longer concerns solely a cost-­benefit calculus, but also efforts in controlling military, political and economic relationships and dimensions in a conflict so that one may prevent escalation into war until an opportunity to resolve the conflict arises. In such a perspective, deterrence becomes a means towards controlling a conflict, not preventing it. As there is always some degree of conflict between nations, preventing conflict altogether in all domains and dimensions is accordingly impossible. Instead, a state may only influence what means and methods opponents use to achieve their goals. Furthermore, as the world is a closed system with complex relationships between different conflicts affecting, reinforcing and changing each other in turn, focusing singlehandedly on one actor, threat or scenario alone will likely ignore other relevant, external factors. Moreover, conflicts between countries are not static: even small and unimportant conflicts may escalate into full-­scale warfare as even abstract but important factors such as national honour come into  play. Thus, conflicts have an inherent tendency to escalate, particularly

138  Tor Ivar Strømmen c­ onsidering the actions of the opponent as out-­of-hand or if their actions influence events well beyond the scope of the conflict itself.23 Deterrence through cost-­benefit balancing and calculation is obviously a main component in any conflict management strategy, however, is not the only component. Other viable deterring tools include canalising the conflict, reassurance and appeasement, coercion, persuasion and even preventive warfare. Only when considering these other means in combination may any given state design a war-­preventing policy and strategy that is both credible and lasting.24 Regardless of whether viewing deterrence in isolation or as part of a comprehensive strategy for conflict management, deterrence in essence is about punishment and denial. Whereas deterring through punishment entails maximising the cost an opponent would suffer if resorting to arms, the alternative of deterring through denial aims at minimising the advantages the opponent could achieve.25 Even if deterrence strategies may vary in means – including operational and tactical choices – their effectiveness ultimately depends upon the perception of credibility, namely the mutually-­dependent relationship between the capacity to use force and the will to use it if necessary. For this reason, if a state’s capacity or will is lacking, a credible threat of potential costs and suffering for an aggressor does not exist and hence deterrence measures as part of any overall deterrence strategy is in vain. Simultaneously, both credibility factors depend on communication. Deterrence usually fails because of deficient ability to communicate capacity, will or expectation. Theoretically, one can differentiate between deterrence resulting from observable facts and deterrence resulting from a clearly communicated strategy. While a state’s perception of another’s communication may not be as intended by the communicator, a communicated deterrence strategy at any rate remains more predictable, thus both cheaper and more credible. In consequence, evaluation of how communications are internalised is important to avoid miscommunication, misunderstandings and failing deterrence. Thus, a state must strive to ensure that the recipient rationalises their behaviour according to the intended objective. To achieve successful communication, therefore, strategists must balance between both identification of red lines and their communication and balance escalation and de-­escalation. If the deterring state does not get these balances right, then deterrence is likely to gravely fail and in fact promote rather than prevent conflict.26 If Norway is to prevent war through deterrence, it must work to deter two very different threats. First, it must deter a bilateral conflict – which ostensibly the threshold defence concept is well suited for if the assumptions it rests upon are valid. Unfortunately, however, several assumptions in the Norwegian approach do lack credibility. Whereas the collective capability of NATO requires that NATO is both capable and willing to assist, prerequisites for receiving reinforcements include that allied forces are both available, that they are allocated to Norway’s support and that Norway itself can receive and use them in a timely and secure manner. Meanwhile, the current preparedness levels and lack of resilience in Norway’s armed forces as the first line of defence necessitate rapid

Bulwark and balancing act  139 escalation on Norway’s part – even if the conflict is small-­scale and non-­ existential. If not, Norway may easily end up in a fait accompli situation. Finally, regardless of how solid Norwegian intelligence and surveillance is as the top level of the threshold defence concept, warning time is arguably an outdated concept. From the New Look reforms underway since 2008 emphasising increased readiness and combat ability, Russian forces have become highly able, capable, mobile and proficient in a wide range of offensive operations commenced without warning.27 Combined with Norway’s lacking preparedness levels, a strategic surprise attack is rendered both worthwhile and potentially a coup de grace. Moreover, in international power politics there are no friends, there are only partners gaining from supporting other states through common interests. Thus, if the costs of supporting Norway outweigh the potential benefits or relevant interests, possibly no allies would come to its aid in the event of conflict in the north. Obviously, such an assertion is somewhat bombastic and there are of course many moderating circumstances and factors to consider when predicting future conditions, of which perhaps the foremost are reputation and national honour. A major power that does not stand by its allies or its obligations would lose credibility and thus also power on an unprecedented scale. While most senior political leaders understand this and do adhere to such Realpolitik realities, one should nonetheless refrain from excluding the possibility of state leaders yet again falling for the allure of appeasement – especially if viewing their nation’s power as unimpeachable or if the cost-­benefit analysis is too superficially calculated. Second, another kind of conflict Norwegian deterrence strategy must be prepared to deal with is wars and conflicts originating elsewhere – commonly and infamously referred to in Norwegian defence debates as the scenario of horizontal escalation. As escalation dominance depends on the ability to deploy dominant capacities successively so that one may maintain initiative in a conflict, Russia would, in a conflict with NATO, rapidly depend on her strategic nuclear arsenal to maintain any prospect of escalation dominance. To that end, Russia is likely to take preventive action to secure their Ballistic Missile-­Carrying Submarines (SSBNs) and associated infrastructure in the North before a conflict renders offensive action against these key Russian assets likely, thus implementing their so-­called Bastion Defence whenever they view an armed conflict with NATO as likely or if it has already erupted. From such a strategic dynamic, NATO does in fact not deter Russia from establishing and extending their Bastion in the north, NATO causes it. Given that the balance of interests would be in Norway’s disfavour, Norway similarly fails to deter Russia from implementing and expanding the Bastion and its corresponding A2/AD zones in Norway’s adjacent waters and territory. In sum then, the above considerations demonstrate that deterrence by Norway alone is neither a relevant nor credible tool to avoid war in and by itself. Norway fully depends on its allies to deter and may employ deterrence only as one of many tools in its conflict management strategy.

140  Tor Ivar Strømmen

Norwegian military geography – inside out The meaning of the very name ‘Norway’ as ‘the fairway to the north’ partly explains the RNoN’s strategic role. Norway is not a continuous piece of territory, but numerous small and scattered settlements along a coastline stretching across 100,915 km and 239,057 islands. Land communications are few and concentrated near the coast, and in many instances dependent on ferries to cross fjords. In fact, much of Norway’s long land frontier and territory is mostly impassable for large military units given that the territory is mostly mountain and forest. However, if one sees the seaboard as a ‘frontier’, it becomes glaringly obvious that Norway has an extremely unfavourable ratio of circumference to area. Peoples such as the French and Russians can abandon their peripheries and fall back into the heart of their countries. This Norwegians cannot do, the bulk of their population lies along the coastline. Almost all the towns and practically the entire economic base is located here. Thus, geostrategically, Norway is inside out: the seaboard is not the country’s outer shell but its living heart and a sea power can assault this long, exposed heart wherever it wishes. Within Norwegian territory, moreover, the sea does not divide, but links together so that a maritime invader may outflank any landbound defender. A strong maritime power is therefore Norway’s most dangerous opponent as it would master the approaches to its longest frontier and strategic centre of gravity.28 Norwegian military geography and what it entails has, since the Napoleonic Wars, where Norway suffered famine and economic collapse because of blockade by the dominant sea power, caused Norway to consistently aim at neutrality or being allied to the greatest sea power in the region. If Norway and its allies lose control of the maritime domain, Norway could be defeated regardless of developments ashore in Norway. Without access to maritime communications, the Norwegian economy would collapse, its people starve and its political freedom would become severely restricted or quickly coerced into submission. However, as 1940 demonstrated, if the Norwegian Navy and its de facto or formal allies are incapable of denying an enemy access to the strategic Heartland, then being on the right side does not help.

Geostrategic position Today Russia is the only state constituting a major military threat to Norway’s existential political aims, although others like the US and many European states also have substantial interests in who controls Norway as controlling Norwegian territory and its adjacent waters provides the ability to threaten both Western and Russian strategic centres of gravity. The Russian strategic deterrence concept is not only a matter of preventing use of force but also aims at limiting the potential for use of force against Russia through combining deterrence and coercion in one package, not only to prevent

Bulwark and balancing act  141 war but end the conflict on terms favourable to Russia in war.29 Strategic and sub-­strategic nuclear weapons remain vital for Russia’s deterrence strategy in allowing Moscow to achieve escalation dominance and thus key in their ability to use military power to promote political objectives all over the conflict scale.30 As the possibility of a total war with a full-­scale nuclear exchange would bring Ragnarok to both sides and mutual assured destruction (MAD), a war between nuclear powers will, hopefully, eventually force the opposing parties to seek negotiations. Consequently, short wars – preferably fait accompli engagements – for definite and limited strategic objectives will likely be the norm in the future according to many Russian analysts and Russian doctrine.31 To that end, nuclear weapons are useful to deescalate when objectives are reached or operations have reached a culmination point. Thus, with a nuclear threat, one can abruptly force the opponent to negotiate on basis of the de facto situation on the ground.32 In such instances, the overall balance of power is arguably not as relevant as the parties will likely fight with high-­readiness forces already in theatre with most outside reinforcements likely arriving too late, i.e. after warfighting has ended and negotiations commenced. In such a perspective, then, war is not a continuation of policy with other means, but a means to improve the state’s negotiation leverage in diplomatic exchanges. By such a logic, Russia considers conventional armed force as a feasible means to attain strategic objectives also against countries and alliances that do possess nuclear weapons.33 However, the key prerequisite for using escalation to deescalate is sustainment of retaliation capability and, to that end, Russian strategic submarines (SSBN) constitute the most resilient and important aspect of their nuclear triad. Thus, functioning in effect as the Russian centre of gravity, it is vital for Russia to ensure the SSBNs’ operational freedom and to secure their supporting infrastructure – both of which are in Norway’s backyard at or off the Kola Peninsula. In the case of an actual or possibly imminent great power conflict, Norwegian waters as such become strategically vital areas for Russia, the US and NATO, regardless of whether the conflict originated in the region or not. To that end, sea power remains NATO’s most potent military means relative to Russia. As a continental power, maritime power projection against Russia mostly influences events ashore directly through attacking shore targets from carriers and submarines and indirectly through targeting their nuclear deterrence. Other forms of maritime power are not very useful against a state that does not rely on maritime communications unless the war is protracted in time. It is, however, commonly claimed that sea powers hold a critical advantage over land powers that eventually will make them prevail as it enables a maritime combatant to protract a war in time, extend it in geography and assemble a coalition able to field a superior landward fighting instrument in the end.34 With the advent of nuclear weapons this advantage was to a certain degree nullified as protracted wars would likely end in nuclear exchange, i.e. the more long-­term effects of sea power have lost much of its relevance as a war-­winning tool. Though Russia possess significant long-­range precision strike capabilities offering limited offensive power in the maritime domain, Russia does not have

142  Tor Ivar Strømmen the capacity to utilise the oceans for projection of substantial power against other great powers beyond their nuclear weapons. Hence, Russian strategists still, as they have traditionally done, consider the ocean foremost as a moat and not a bridge.35 There are, however, some deviations from this generalisation. Use of the oceans for logistic support and for flanking manoeuvres supporting their land forces remains key, but such activity would, due to very limited capacities, be limited to coastal and local waters in immediate vicinity of own forces and under a defensive shore-­based air defence umbrella. The Russian concept for securing operational freedom for their SSBNs is commonly referred to as ‘the Bastion Defence’, originating from the dynamics of the Cold War in the 1970s.36 In the literature, the concept includes a Russian ambition to conduct denial operations forward to the Greenland-­Iceland-United Kingdom (GIUK) line and to establish sea control east of the North Cape. Such a view is not only axiomatically held by researchers and experts, but remain the benchmark understanding of the concept in official Norwegian and NATO strategic documents and white papers – and thus also remain a dimensioning influence of national and allied defence plans.37 At an overall level, however, such an understanding, though not wrong, is arguably oversimplified and does not properly reflect the operational consequences of the Bastion Defence concept. The claimed Russian ambition for control east of North Cape is imprecise at best, first and foremost given how sea control does not serve any purpose by itself but rather functions as a mean to allow operations at or from the sea. In the Russian case, sea control aims to allow both for operational freedom for its strategic submarines and the ability to conduct operations deepening and strengthening A2/AD capabilities – in other words pushing forward A2/AD systems and neutralising NATO capabilities already in theatre while denying operational freedom for Western submarines in the region. While such objectives require sea control, the operations required to achieve them only require sea control when and where operations are to take place as opposed to permanent and all-­encompassing sea control. The main challenge is thus not to control a definite water and air space, but rather to maintain a level of denial for a protracted period. Should Russia endeavour to establish general and lasting sea control throughout the Barents Sea as the commanding understanding of the concept suggests, they would gain no or insignificant strategic advantages, but increase the likelihood for loss of sparse capabilities. Thus, as an all-­domain sea control is not required to achieve Russian objectives, it suffices for Russian armed forces to ensure that any strike or theatre ASW capacities may only operate against the Bastion at high risk. If the cost-­ benefit balance gets sufficiently negative, NATO will either abstain from challenging the Bastion or be forced to accept losses to such a degree that their forces will quickly crumble away. The purpose of Russian denial operations southwards towards the GIUK gap is likewise aimed at denying operational freedom in the region to NATO capabilities capable of threatening or striking their SSBNs and associated infrastructure. Other NATO maritime operations in the Atlantic are of less importance.

Bulwark and balancing act  143 Thus, NATO’s renewed efforts to strengthen the transatlantic link in securing transatlantic SLOCs are arguably erroneous unless one expects or assumes that war will be a protracted affair. In a short conflict, transoceanic SLOCs will not provide any substantial operational advantage and will as such unlikely be a prioritised target for Russia. Russian sea denial ambitions are therefore far from an all-­inclusive ambition: sea denial is, as always, about raising risk to a level where probable losses surmounts likely benefits – but in this instance mainly aimed at NATO maritime strike and ASW capacities. Some commentators, and rightfully so, claim that the Soviet navy also was tasked to target NATO maritime communications, but not to an extent that would sever them. The operational idea was as a diversion and a method to reduce the concentration of NATO combat forces.38 Although this option remains viable on a theoretical basis, it is hardly so when considering the number of available submarines. However, should a conflict between NATO and Russia develop into a prolonged, violent affair, the strategic basis for Russian naval operations will necessarily change as, in such an instance, interdicting transatlantic SLOCs becomes important and not only as a diversion. Still, regardless of the expected duration of actual warfighting, targeting harbours and railroads etc. facilitating movement of reinforcements would likely be more credible and efficient rather than going after ships at sea.39 Nevertheless, deterring or denying naval forces would neither suffice to protect the Bastion nor the military infrastructure on the Kola peninsula. Russia must also prevent projection of long-­range air power and establish a favourable air situation throughout the theatre. Considering the military balance, they would likely aim at suppressing or destroying air bases and command and control infrastructure preferably through employing long-­range precision guided munitions (PGMs).40 Never before in history has a surprise attack been so likely to succeed as now and with such serious consequences for the receiving party. Given the – almost – complete lack of protective precautions throughout NATO territory, massive use of PGMs in combination with strategic surprise may as such have significant and destructive consequences for the European continent as a whole. In the maritime domain, a temporary or permanent elimination of NATO long-­range airpower would contribute to Russian establishment of sea denial while simultaneously allowing Russian submarines and long-­ range bombers unhindered at worst or low-­risk access at best to the Atlantic. Thus, not only enhancing their sea denial capabilities, in such a scenario Russia may possess the ability to project power – although limited and only destructive – towards the US homeland and NATO’s potential reinforcement forces. As it would allow a gradual influx of less capable Russian denial capabilities, i.e. units that otherwise would operate at high risk in an initial phase, a sustained Russian sea denial in the North Atlantic would consequently strengthen itself and gradually consolidate. In conclusion, Russia will initially not attempt to establish permanent and all-­ encompassing sea control east of North Cape, nor will they pursue efforts in denying all kinds of NATO naval operations in the North Atlantic. What they

144  Tor Ivar Strømmen will aim at is to deter NATO from projecting power against and into the Bastion while eliminating or neutralising those NATO capabilities that already hold access. To that end, the following operational concept for Russian forces may be deduced from the foregoing analysis of Russian room of manoeuvre: • •

•

•

Massive, preferably without warning, use of armed force in simultaneous and multiple rather than sequential attacks against NATO air stations capable of projecting air power in the European Arctic. Presence of the Russian Navy’s most capable attack-­submarines in the Atlantic – not necessarily to hunt down targets, but to raise the opponent’s operational risk and thus predominantly deny access through influencing NATO’s cost-­benefit calculations. In due time, if the initial endeavour succeeds, strengthen sea denial capability through deploying less capable units as follow-­on forces in a force dispositioning, not only providing resilience in their defences, but also potential destructive power projection well into the Atlantic and even towards key US infrastructure. Prioritise their most capable surface units and amphibious capabilities, which are both sparse and critical capabilities, in order to establish, strengthen and sustain layered A2/AD close to their own vital strategic objectives.

Energy warfare Russia’s concept for strategic deterrence is universal and includes coercive means to minimise threats against Russian interests in peace, crisis and war. In shaping their security environment, Russia will employ every available tool to promote strategic aims through utilising means such as economic operations.41 However, the only part of the Russian economy offering itself for power politics is energy warfare: through incentives and extortion, they can pressure other states into compliance in using energy supply as a weapon – a tactic often-­times employed by Russia to obtain strategic objectives. In 2013, the EU imported some 30 per cent of its natural gas from Russia.42 Replacing Russian gas fully is only possible if one both increases production in Norway and Algeria and supplements by liquid natural gas delivered by shipping. That would increase cost, but simultaneously render energy warfare a rather inefficient tool – and one which in addition could backfire.43 It is therefore likely that Russia will show restraint and only use such a tool if it is overwhelmingly likely to be effective. It would be wholly another matter if Russia could control Norwegian gas export as well, as closing off both Norwegian and Russian gas would leave Europe dark and cold. Thus, Norwegian gas production is of vital interest for not only the EU and Norway, but also for Russia, rendering in sum Russian use of military power against Norway plausible regardless of the absence of both a bilateral or regional conflict.

Bulwark and balancing act  145

Consequences for Norwegian strategy In any conflict between Russia and NATO/US, Russian strategic submarines constitute the key arbitrator for Russia. Nuclear deterrence capabilities – and especially their strategic submarines – ensure continuous maintenance of Russia’s ability to prevent unwanted escalation while securing its ability to deescalate and enforce an abrupt end to warfighting when and if needed. Consequently, Russia is likely to take preventive action to secure their strategic submarines and associated infrastructure before a conflict renders offensive action against these key Russian assets likely. They will implement their so-­called Bastion defence whenever they view an armed conflict with NATO as likely or if it has already erupted. Furthermore, both the Bastion defence scenario and the energy scenario could happen in circumstances when NATO’s most capable rapid response forces are preoccupied or when NATO, or some NATO members, are unwilling to risk escalation and full-­scale conflict given the high intensity warfighting reinforcing northern waters would demand. Thus, a rapid and ample response and support from NATO is not a given, Norway must to a large degree therefore be able to handle such situations by itself – unsupported and against potentially overwhelming odds.44 Operational consequences Beyond the above listed geographic and geostrategic factors, one must also consider the operational and technological approaches Russia employs in its strategic concepts. While this chapter does not leave room for an extensive exploration of such operational concepts, one ought nevertheless to consider that Russia would likely hold initial escalation dominance in every conflict involving Norway, determining what means they employ, when and where. In any war with limited strategic aims, which a war between nuclear powers mostly likely would be, the establishment of a fait accompli takes precedence. To attack efficiently first has always been important in naval warfare, but as Norwegian resources and units today are very limited and impossible to replace in the short-­term, a coup de grace has become even more achievable. Furthermore, it is utterly inconceivable that Norway could attack first effectively and efficiently unless warfighting has already erupted. Therefore, Norway suffers a double strategic challenge in the possibility of being subjected to a grey-­zone warfare approach gradually reducing its will and ability to implement defensive measures while simultaneously needing to counter a full-­ scale and comprehensive strategic surprise attack in all domains. Russian A2/AD capabilities and concepts, key to their defensive approach for securing their Bastion, cause three further major challenges for Norway. First, Norwegian forces must be able to survive and fight within a Russian denial area, which in open waters is only possible for submarines and other hidden measures such as naval mines. While such means are effective in the long-­term, in lacking

146  Tor Ivar Strømmen tactical mobility and thus being relatively easy to outmanoeuvre for an opponent determining time and space, they solely depend, against a single operation, on being in the right place at the right time. Norway must therefore necessarily utilise her geography, namely the littorals, as a force multiplier. Only by supplementing RNoN’s submarines with highly mobile units capable of hiding amongst islets and in fjords while simultaneously possessing the ability to deliver long-­ range precision attacks into open waters, may Norway in a cost-­efficient manner sustain sea denial and contest opposing efforts of establishing sea control for a substantial amount of time. Second, a Russian push to extend its A2/AD zone would require access to Norwegian territory, which is only possible through maritime power projection into its littorals. If Russian A2/AD capabilities are already in place in theatre having already achieved a fait accompli, they will turn Norway’s geographic advantages against any opposing force: it is therefore key to eliminate them before they get a foothold. Third, due to the combination of long-­range precision strikes, few and vulnerable LLOCs, a likely unfavourable air situation and Russian open-­water sea denial capabilities, Norway must maintain sea control in its inshore fairways if it is to have mobility, including army mobility, and logistic support. If they cannot protect these waters, they cannot receive landbound reinforcements, move them or their own forces, nor secure or resupply them or the civilian populace at an acceptable risk. To defend Norway at sea and from the sea therefore requires very specific and specialised forces, but also forces that complement each other. In sum, then, Norway cannot fulfil its strategic role in the north without the capacity to conduct open water and inshore sea denial. Similarly, the Norwegian armed forces can neither respond to attacks nor sustain its own forces while protecting the population without the capacity to ensure sea control in Norway’s inshore waters. Finally, Norway cannot receive, stage and utilise allied reinforcements without securing their access to Norwegian waters while assuring their sustainment and mobility after they have arrived.

Norwegian maritime interest beyond national defence As Norway’s economy is one of the most open and internationally orientated economies in the world, Norwegian maritime interests are far from limited to the territorial defence of Norway. Maritime industries – namely oil and gas, shipping and financing, classing and insurance, yards and equipment, fisheries and aqua farming – collectively contribute to 31 per cent of Norway’s national outcome.45 Furthermore, ships or subsea pipelines carry 80–90 per cent of Norwegian export and import. Such numbers by themselves illustrate that the Norwegian economy is not only predominantly maritime-­oriented, but also heavily dependent on a stable world order with set regulations for the conduct of business. Any major changes in the conduct of international trade and business could cause catastrophic economic and societal consequences for Norway.

Bulwark and balancing act  147 Hence, international law and order, and the maintenance of a world order akin to the existing, is crucial for Norway, which is why Norway’s efforts in promoting, improving and securing international law and the existing world order by all available means are considerable and long-­standing. Although the Norwegian armed forces are insignificant compared to major powers, Norway is involved in conflicts all around the world in order to promote its interests, mostly as part of coalitions or by other, non-­military, means. Such involvement comes in many forms, yet sea power is and remains one of the most tangible and cost-­efficient tools Norway has in its toolbox. Simultaneously, Norway as a small although wealthy state with far-­flung interest cannot afford in any foreseeable situation to build and maintain naval forces capable of effectively shielding, protecting or sustaining its maritime interests by itself beyond Norwegian waters. Norway is therefore dependent on allied support or of being part of a broad international coalition with the same objectives in support of the existing world order. To that end, the Norwegian government is acutely aware that its alliance membership demands contribution, and that it cannot base allied support on goodwill and common interest alone – certainly not if Norway’s opinions and interests are to influence allied proceedings. Therefore, as previously outlined, the Norwegian Navy is prescribed with many tasks and missions in a national context to perform purely national assignments to which tailor-­made forces are the most effective and efficient. On the one hand, such forces have characteristics and capacities that do not necessarily match the requirements of international or overseas operations. On the other hand, if Norway develops its defence structure towards international requirements it will end up with a navy that is poorly suited at worst and ineffective at best for its own existential defence.

Conclusion The Norwegian Navy’s strategic roles, and hence force composition and operational capabilities, are a precarious multifaceted balancing act and an enduring dilemma in Norwegian defence planning and strategic thinking. This dilemma and balancing act between Norwegian capabilities to influence developments globally, maintain its sovereign rights and fulfil its defensive requirements, is not new. It has been a consistent dilemma since the Napoleonic Wars, although with significant variances in threats and others’ geostrategic interest in Norwegian territory, water and air space. As Norwegian territory, air space and waters are vital to project power towards Russia’s SSBNs as their military centre of gravity – and likewise for Russia to project military power against NATO – Norway’s grand-­strategic ambitions might very well be undermined or impossible to realise. If Norway’s allies cannot operate in northern waters, it could cause strategic defeat for Norway even if it maintains physical control over its territory. The defence of Norway is therefore neither an isolated affair nor is Norway only an importer of security: the Norwegian ability to influence the maritime theatre in support of

148  Tor Ivar Strømmen allied requirements could be vital to ensure strategic objectives even if Norway itself is not the target for strategic offensives itself. Given that Norway is a maritime nation through and through both geographically and economically, Norway’s strategy must consider the sea as a substantial factor in any armed conflict. Simultaneously, the strategic interests of others do in fact determine the kind of war Norway would have to fight and thus also the operations its armed forces would have to conduct. As demonstrated, Norway’s geostrategic position and interests indeed renders Corbett’s view on the relationship between land and sea power either irrelevant or even turns it inside-­ out in some instances. As a small nation, Norway’s military-­strategic aims are limited and distinct, allowing tailor-­made naval forces. Such forces cannot be good at everything nor can they effectively and efficiently challenge a superior sea power symmetrically: they can, however, hinder a greater power from accomplishing its goals through focusing on specific tasks and objectives. Such tailor-­made forces could provide Norway with significant ability to secure its own national survival and support its allies’ overall strategic aims while increasing the relevance of her partnership to the Atlantic powers of the US and the EU. Therefore, the Norwegian Navy has been structured and thus evolved quite differently from most other navies in Europe in still maintaining a large fleet comparable with most other states, yet also a navy specialised for national requirements. Nevertheless, Norway’s main political-­strategic objective of preventing war remains the single most important factor determining RNoN’s strategic role, achieved through a careful balance between deterrence and reassurance. As per the required balancing act, the armed forces of Norway must be prepared and able to fight alone for days and weeks. Thus, Norway must not only maintain a military force capable of countering offensives in all domains alone, a complimentary force, but also a force carefully tailored to counter and survive attacks from Russian capabilities while utilising Norway’s geography to its benefit and robbing the opponent of the same opportunity. Simultaneously, such a Norwegian armed force cannot freely choose effectors and capabilities: if Norway establishes capabilities allowing it to deter through conventional punishment, Norway would more likely allure Russia into a preventive attack rather than prevent it. Hence, Norway depends on the development and maintenance of armed forces not necessarily logical prima facie considering purely military-­strategic calculations and threats, yet which offer stout defensive power and resilience while reassuring Russia that Norway has neither offensive intensions in general nor aims to facilitate a NATO strategic surprise attack on Russia in the future.

Notes   1 Julian S. Corbett, Principles of Maritime Strategy (New York: Dover Publications Inc., 1911: 2004): 13.  2 The model is based on Tommy Jeppsson and Inge Tjøstheim, Militärstrategiskt tänkande i ett småstatsperspektiv: En nordisk syn på militärstrategins roll (Krigsvetenskapliga institutionen, Försvarshögskolan, 2005).

Bulwark and balancing act  149   3 John B. Hattendorf, ‘What is a Maritime Strategy?’, Soundings October 2013, no. 1 (2013): 5.   4 Paraphrase of Milan Vego, ‘Naval Classical Thinkers and the Operational Art’, NWC 1005 (2009): 16.   5 Berndt Brehmer in: Tom Kristiansen and John Andreas Olsen, eds., War Studies: Perspectives from the Baltic and Nordic War Colleges, Oslo Files on Security and Defence (Oslo: Institut for forsvarsstudier, 2007): 35.   6 Geoffrey Till, Seapower: A Guide for the Twenty-­First Century (London: Frank Cass Publishers, 2nd edn 2004): 28–29.   7 John B. Hattendorf in: Rolf Hobson and Tom Kristiansen, eds., Navies in Northern Waters, 1721–2000 (London: Frank Cass, 2004), 151–152 and James R. Holmes, ‘Small Navy, Strong Navy’, The Diplomat (2012).  8 Lawrence Freedman, Strategy: A History (New York: Oxford University Press, 2013): xii.   9 Arthur F. Lykke Jr, ‘Defining military strategy’, Military Review 77, no. 1 (1997): 183. 10 Paraphrase of: Corbett, Principles of Maritime Strategy: 13. 11 Roger W. Barnett, ‘Strategic Culture and Its Relationship to Naval Strategy’, Naval War College Review Winter 2007 (2007): 32. 12 Michael Howard, ‘The forgotten dimensions of strategy’, Foreign Affairs 57 (1979): 975–986; Colin S. Gray, Modern strategy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999): 23–44. The list is not exhaustive. 13 Pharaphrase of: Edward N. Luttwak, Strategy: The Logic of War and Peace (London: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2001): 1–19. 14 See Johan Jørgen Holst, Kenneth Hunt and Anders C. Sjaastad, Deterrence and defense in the North, Norwegian foreign policy studies (printed version) (Oslo: Norwegian University Press, 1985); 8 for a thorough explanation of this balancing act. Also see: Hanne H Bragstad, ‘Avskrekking og beroligelse i norsk sikkerhetspolitikk overfor Russland’ (Master thesis, Norwegian Defence College, 2016). 15 Forsvarsdepartementet, ‘Prop. 151 S (2015–2016): Kampkraft og bærekraft: Langtidsplan for forsvarssektoren’, ed. Det kongelige Forsvarsdepartement (Oslo: Regjeringen, 2016). 16 Ibid. 17 Ibid. 18 Forsvarssjefen, ‘Et forsvar i endring: Forsvarssjefens fagmilitære råd’, ed. Forsvarsstaben (Oslo: Forsvarsstaben, 2016). 19 Ibid., 22–23. 20 Rolf Tamnes, ‘Et lite land i stormaktspolitikken’, International Politics 72, no. 3 (2015). 21 There are also many other reasons, often very different reasons, for why a potential opponent chose to abstain from use of force. Therefore, objectification of deterrence effect is impossible. See for an example: Roald Gjelsten, ‘Rammer for avskrekking’, Norsk tidsskrift for sjøvesen 117, no. 4 (2002). 22 Robert C. Rubel, ‘Getting a Grip on Tailored Deterrence: The World of Conflict Management’, Orbis 56, no. 4 (2012): 678. 23 Based on: ibid., see also: Carl von Clausewitz et al., On War (Princeton University Press, 1989), book 1, ch. 1. 24 Rubel, ‘Getting a Grip on Tailored Deterrence’: 684. 25 John Stone, ‘Conventional Deterrence and the Challenge of Credibility’, Contemporary Security Policy 33, no. 1 (2012): 109. 26 Partly a paraphrase of: Dmitry Adamsky, ‘From Moscow with coercion: Russian deterrence theory and strategic culture’, Journal of Strategic Studies 41, no. 1–2 (2018): 53–54. 27 For a brief but excellent explanation of the New Look reforms, see: Ina Holst-­ Pedersen Kvam, ‘ “Strategic Deterrence” in the North. Implications of Russian

150  Tor Ivar Strømmen ­ aritime Defence Planning and Seapower to Norwegian Maritime Strategy’ (Master M thesis, Universitetet i Bergen, 2018): 45–47. 28 David C. Pugh, ‘Guns in the Cupboard’, in Årbok for Forsvarshistorisk forskningssenter, Forsvarets høgskole, 1983–84, ed. Rolf Tamnes (Oslo: Tanum-­Norli, 1984): 99–100. 29 Kristin Ven Bruusgaard, ‘Russian Strategic Deterrence’, Survival 58, no.  4 (2016): 17–19. 30 Märta Carlsson, Johan Norberg and Fredrik Westerlund, ‘Military Capability of Russia’s Armed Forces in 2013’, Russian Military Capability in a Ten-­Year Perspective – 2013 (2013): 65. 31 See Franklin D. Kramer and Hans Binnendijk, ‘Meeting the Russian conventional challenge: Effective deterrence by promt reinforcement’, (Atlantic Council: Scowcroft center for strategy and security, 2018): 4 and Timothy L. Thomas, Thinking Like A Russian Officer: Basic Factors And Contemporary Thinking On The Nature of War (Foreign Military Studies Office, Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, 2016): 2. 32 Mark Schneider and Congressman Curt Weldon, The nuclear forces and doctrine of the Russian federation (Fairfax, Virginia: National Institut Press, 2006); Bruusgaard, ‘Russian Strategic Deterrence’: 12 and Katarzyna Zysk, ‘Escalation and Nuclear Weapons in Russia’s Military Strategy’, The RUSI Journal (2018). 33 Paraphrase of: Adamsky, ‘From Moscow with coercion’: 37–38 and Robert Peters, Justin Anderson, and Harrison Menke, ‘Deterrence in the 21st Century: Integrating Nuclear and Conventional Force’, Strategic Studies Quarterly 12, no. 4 (2018). 34 Colin S. Gray, War, Peace and Victory: Strategy and Statecraft for the next century (New York: Touchstone, 1991), 67–77. 35 See for an example: Corbin Williamson, ‘Factors Affecting the Feasibility of a Warsaw Pact Invasion of Western Europe’ (Undergraduate Research Fellows Thesis, Texas A&M University, 2008): 62–63 and Christopher A Ford and David A Rosenberg, ‘The Naval Intelligence Underpinnings of Reagan’s Maritime Strategy’, Journal of Strategic Studies 28, no. 2 (2005): 385. 36 This concept did not emerge until about 1975, i.e. when Russian ICBMs got sufficient range to target the US mainland from Soviet local waters. (Jan S Breemer, ‘The Soviet navy’s SSBN bastions: Evidence, inference, and alternative scenarios’, The RUSI Journal 130, no. 1 (1985): 19.) 37 See for an example the security expert commitiee report: Forsvarsdepartementet, ‘Et felles løft: Ekspertgruppen for forsvaret av Norge’, (Oslo: Forsvarsdepartementet, 2015), Richard Cantrill and Eystein Lockwood Meyer, ‘The JEF as a Force Multiplier: The Example of Joint Amphibious Response in the Nordic–Baltic Theatre’, in Rob Johnson and Janne Matlary (eds.), The United Kingdom’s Defence After Brexit (London: Springer, 2019): 253–254 and John Andreas Olsen, ed. NATO and the North Atlantic: Revitalising Collective Defence (London: Routledge, 2017): 4, and 23–24. 38 Vladimir Kuzin and Sergei Chernyavskii, ‘Russian Reactions to Reagan’s “Maritime Strategy” ’, Journal of Strategic Studies 28, no. 2 (2005). 39 See Bryan Ranft and Geoffrey Till, The Sea in Soviet Strategy, 2nd edn (Hampshire: MacMillan Press, 1989): 211. Although this conclusion is 30 years old, there is no change in circumstances that ought to lead to a different conclusion. 40 See Roger N. McDermott and Tor Bukkvoll, ‘Russia in the Precision-­Strike Regime: Military Theory, Procurement and Operational Impact,’ in FFI Rapport (Kjeller: ­Forsvarets Forskningsinstitutt, 2017) for a thorough and up-­to-date summarisation of their capabilities and intended use. 41 Douglas Mastriano (ed.), Project 1721: A U.S. Army War College Assessment on Russian Strategy in Eastern Europe and Recommendations on How to Leverage Landpower to Maintain the Peace (Pennsylvania: US Army War College Press, 2017): 14–15.

Bulwark and balancing act  151 42 CIEP, ‘Russian gas imports to Europe and security of supply – factsheet’, Clingendael International Energy Programme, www.clingendaelenergy.com/files.cfm?event=files. download&ui=9C1DEEC1–5254–00CF-FD03186604989704. 43 Mastriano, Project 1721: 15. 44 Already in 1983 Sir Michael Howard questioned whether NATO was able to deter and respond to a rapid conventional offensive. (Michael Howard, ‘Reassurance and deterrence: western defense in the 1980s’, Foreign Affairs 61, no.  2 (1982): 128.) Today the situation is far worse as the strategic objectives we would fight over is far less existential for most of Europe and as NATO’s rim is less capable of withstanding or delaying a Russian attack. 45 ‘Annual national accounts, 2016’ (Statistics Norway, 2016).

11 The Royal Danish Navy How small states use naval strategy Johannes Riber

Introduction There can be little doubt that the Danish Navy is indeed small. Measured in tonnage, ship types and its ability to power project, the Danish Navy does not come within reach of Denmark’s closest European allies like Germany, the UK or France.1 That said, when labeling a navy ‘small’ the next question is naturally ‘how small’? Is it smaller than the Norwegian or Swedish navies or bigger? Both states have submarines, a capacity not found within the Danish Navy. On the other side, Sweden does not have any frigates at all, while the Danish Navy has the largest frigates in Scandinavia measured by tonnage.2 Another question could be, has the Danish Navy reduced or increased after the Cold War? The number of ships has reduced significant since 1989 but, on the other side, Danish warships have never been bigger, measured by size and armament.3 Today, the Danish Navy has the ability to project power more globally while, on the other side, it is almost unable to defend the Danish shores in the Baltic. This outlines the difficulty in comparing one navy with another. Basil Germond has reviewed a number of proposals on how to categorise the size of a navy.4 The overall common nominator is power projection. The more a navy can maintain power projection abroad the higher the ranking. This can indeed be a solid way to measure the size of greater powers’ navies. However, smaller states tend to focus less on power but more on international institutions, cooperation, international law and diplomacy because power by itself cannot guarantee their security. This means there is a fundamental difference in the way smaller states use their defence forces compared to larger states. As Laurent Goetschel points out, smaller states’ security policy aims to minimise or compensate for their power deficits.5 Smaller states can decide to either follow a strategy of autonomy or influence, but because of their lack of power they cannot do both. If a state decides to maximise its influence, it can do so by following a cooperative strategy for example joining an alliance. This also means the risk for being dragged into conflicts the state does not want to participate in. As an alternative, a state can follow a strategy of autonomy or neutrality. This, however, might result in being abandoned by the greater powers in the system and therefore a higher risk for the small state to lose its present position.6 Translated into a Danish security strategy,

The Royal Danish Navy  153 Denmark might have followed a strategy of influence during the Cold War, because of its NATO membership, however in a balanced way. Denmark was a frontline state and therefore followed a strategy of influence with the aim of state survival and maintaining its position in the international system. At the same time, Denmark tried to balance its security policy by being a NATO ally on one side and recognising Soviet security interests on the other. Denmark therefore only participated in UN-­sanctioned operations, mainly Gaza 1956–1967 and Cyprus 1964–1994.7 Denmark was a NATO ally with reservations and followed a balancing strategy to maintain a level of international political autonomy on one side and keep its position in the international system on the other.8 The change in European security after the Cold War gave Denmark the opportunity to rethink a new strategy of influence. A strategy aiming to improve its position in the international system without the need to address Soviet interests. A strategy focusing on the political ties with the US by participating in a number of US-­led interventions and conflicts.9 This change of strategy had significant implications on the Danish Armed Forces, including the navy. It exemplifies how small states with limited resources try to increase their influence or position with a greater power. Such a change in Danish strategy did not come overnight, but slowly and incrementally over the decades after the Cold War; partly because building and commissioning completely new ship classes takes time, partly because a complete change in strategic thinking takes time to mature on the political level. That said it is important to understand that Danish naval strategy after the Cold War has not only aimed at creating influence internationally. As Denmark does not have a coastguard, the Danish Navy also has a constabulary role in both the Baltic Sea and North Atlantic. Therefore, the Danish change towards a strategy of influence, and the implications for the Danish Navy, had to be balanced with the other tasks within the Danish Kingdom. While the threat and challenges decreased in the Baltic Sea, new and more complex security challenges arose in the Arctic. This chapter will therefore argue that Danish naval strategy has changed directions multiple times since the Cold War. The 1990s and the beginning of the 2000s was characterised by a change towards a strategy of influence, peaking with Danish involvement in the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. However, in the beginning of the 2010s the increased international focus on the Arctic combined with Greenlandic aspirations for independence and later Russia’s new role in European security forced Danish politicians to implement a dual track naval strategy. A strategy with the aim on one side to maintain close ties to the US and on the other to be able to act more independently in the Arctic and corporate with other strategic partners in Europe. To understand the changes in Danish naval strategy, this chapter will therefore look into five periods as follows: • • •

the 1980s: a naval strategy of balancing 1990–2001: the institutional decade 2001–2007: the strategy of influence

154  Johannes Riber • •

2007–2017: the beginning of a dual track strategy 2018: a dual strategy implemented.

The 1980s: a naval strategy of balancing The end of the Cold War was a strategic shock for the Danish Armed Forces. The navy consisted mainly of FAC, minelayers, coastal batteries and submarines, with the main purpose to withstand or delay any amphibious assault on the Danish eastern Baltic coastline and furthermore prevent the Soviet Baltic Fleet’s access to the North Sea.10 As late as 1988, a secret Defence Forces analysis pointed out that, regardless of the improved relations between the Soviet Union and the US, the biggest threat against Danish security came from the Soviet Union and the Warsaw Pact (WAPA).11 On a political level, the 1988–1989 white paper on the future of the Danish Defence expressed a concern that while the security climate in Europe had improved significantly this would also allow East European states to reform more independently, which then again could contribute to crises within WAPA countries with a spill over into NATO countries. Furthermore, the Warsaw Pact was still seen as a credible adversary and the white paper therefore still focused on the sizes of the military forces between the two alliances.12 No one in the Defence Force nor the Danish political level foresaw the fundamental changes that were to begin by the end of 1989, ending a few years later with the dissolution of both WAPA and the Soviet Union. The Defence agreement covering the period 1989–1991, negotiated in 1989, therefore reflected a traditional Cold War threat perception. Procurement was made, to buy new bottom sea mines, develop costal mobile missile batteries with Harpoon missiles, upgrade submarines and new close-­in weapon systems for different surface ships.13 The 1989–1991 defence agreement specifically outlined the main purposes of the new patrol vessel of Flyvefisken-­class; surveillance, mine laying, combat and mine sweeping.14 By the end of 1989, the navy’s main role was still to defend the Danish Straits and coastline in case of an attack from the east as a part of Article 5 in the NATO treaty. Denmark followed a balanced strategy of influence, avoiding any military involvement abroad. For the navy, this was best exemplified in 1986. Consideration was given to deployment of a corvette of the Niels Juel Class to the Arabian Gulf to protect Danish shipping during the Tanker War; however, the idea was abandoned by the Danish prime minister with the argument that the ships were not designed for such a mission.15 Despite this, in 1990 the same ship class was deployed to the Arabian Gulf as a part of Operation Desert Shield/Storm.16

1990–2001, the change of naval strategy: the institutional decade As the Cold War ended, the Danish security focus changed rapidly. With German unification in 1990, and the dissolution of the Warsaw Pact in 1991, Denmark’s role as one of NATO’s frontline states ended.17

The Royal Danish Navy  155 The 1993–1994 Defence Agreement pointed out that any direct military threat against Denmark had disappeared and emphasised the importance of international institutions such as the UN, NATO and the Organisation for Security Cooperation in Europe (OCSCE) for crises support and management;18 points echoed again in the 1997–1998 Defence white paper.19 Danish strategy was changing from state survival to regional and global involvement in two directions. The first direction followed the strategy of regional influence in the Baltic Sea and the second direction as a strategy of influence mainly through international institutions such as the UN and OSCE. A regional strategy of regional influence in the Baltic The regional strategy of influence had new implications for the Danish Navy. The 1995–1999 Defence Agreement argued for the importance of the Baltic Sea Initiative. The Baltic Sea Initiative is a multilateral initiative to support the Baltic States and Poland in building and transform different national institutions, including their military forces.20 The navy became heavily involved in education of naval personnel in the three Baltic States; either by conducting training within each of the respective national navies or by educating future officers at the Danish Naval Academy. Furthermore, Denmark donated three ships to the Estonian Navy in 1994, 2000 and 2006.21 The Danish Navy’s involvement was a part of a Danish strategy to incorporate the Baltic States into the European security architecture. By doing so, Denmark could improve its own security by abandoning its role as a frontline state and hereby give Denmark the opportunity to continue its change towards a strategy of influence. As such, Danish involvement in Baltic security became a precondition for implementing the strategy of influence on a more global scale. The navy was used as an important part of this strategic ambition and was the military tool of the Danish political ambition to include the Baltic States into the European security architecture. This was fulfilled in 2004 when the three Baltic States became members of both NATO and the EU. The strategy of influence and international institutions From a naval perspective, the first changes towards a strategy of global influence already came with the deployment of a corvette to the Arabian Gulf in 1990–1991 as a part of Operation Desert Shield/Storm.22 It was the first time in more than 150 years that the Danish Navy deployed a warship to participate in a conflict outside the territories of Denmark and its dependencies.23 While Denmark did participate in the Korean War, it was with a merchant ship redesigned as a hospital ship manned with a naval crew.24 Operation Desert Shield and the deployment of the corvette Olfert Fischer would later mark the strategic change for Denmark and the beginning of a new foreign policy; a policy aiming at global involvement in military conflicts, the strategy of influence.

156  Johannes Riber Later in the 1990s, the civil wars in the Balkans broke out and the Danish Armed Forces got heavily involved, most notably in Tuzla, where Denmark deployed and used main battle tanks.25 In 1992, Operation Maritime Monitor, later Operation Sharp Guard, was mandated by the UN Security Council as a part of the weapon embargo of Yugoslavia. The Danish Navy participated in 1992 as a part of the initial deployment of Standing Naval Forces Atlantic (later SNMG 1), followed by seven three-­ month deployments in the period 1993–1996.26 Furthermore, in 1999 the Kosovo conflict broke out, which later led to the NATO bombing campaign against Serbia;27 a campaign the Danish Air Force participated in.28 At sea, NATO conducted Operation Allied Harvest to remove unused air ordinance dropped on the sea bottom.29 Denmark contributed with a MCM vessel and later with a flagship to MCM Group Northwest, NATO mine countermeasure task group, tasked to remove the dropped ordinance.30 Unlike the previous interventions in the Balkans, it was questionable if the Kosovo intervention was mandated by the UN Security Council.31 The Danish government argued the intervention was internationally legal and did not break any international laws.32 However, a report ordered a year later by the government clearly pointed out the intervention was outside international law. Just as important, the report did not change the political support for the intervention, in the Danish parliament.33 Influence and international partnership had become more important than international law. The defence agreement covering the period 2000–2004 reflected clearly Denmark’s continued focus on expeditionary forces that could deploy with international institutions such as the UN, NATO and OSCE and, on a lesser degree, on territorial defence. The first large ships, the Absalon Class, had been ordered and new frigates were considered. A sea mine depot was closed together with the coastal forts. Two out of five submarines, two out of four large mine layers, together with the FAC of Willemoes-­Class, were decommissioned. The remaining two mine layers were kept mainly as training ships for cadets.34 In the beginning of the 2000s, the navy started developing in two directions; one direction as a coastguard able to operate in the Baltic Sea or the North Atlantic and a second direction as an expeditionary navy able to deploy globally. Any territorial threat above coastguard ‘level’ was now considered irrelevant. As mentioned in the defence white paper from 1998, indirect threats towards Denmark had replaced direct threats.35 The 1990s set the ground for the future of Danish foreign policy. Danish policy makers discovered, especially with the involvement in the Balkan Wars, what a strategy of influence was able to achieve, namely to create Danish political influence abroad. Before 1990, Denmark could use its geostrategic importance as a bargaining chip because of Greenland and the Danish Straits. That bargaining chip more or less disappeared after the Cold War, so a strategic change was needed and, in the 1990s, Denmark discovered that military involvement in NATO/US conflicts could be a way forward. This set the stage for the following two decades of Danish military involvements.

The Royal Danish Navy   157

2001–2007: the strategy of influence, implemented The 9/11 2001 attack marked yet another significant change for the Danish Armed Forces. The following decade would by some scholars be characterised as, ‘The Middle Eastern Decade’ mainly because of the Danish participation in the interventions in both Afghanistan and Iraq.36 The Danish Navy had not yet received its new units and depended heavily on ships either built or at least planned during the last years of the Cold War. Therefore, while Danish foreign policy had changed towards a global involvement with an army heavily deployed around the world, the navy did not yet have the full potential to do the same. The Danish Navy therefore depended heavily on its ageing corvettes of the Niels Juel Class, to some extent its patrol boats of Flyvefisken Class and submarines. As a reaction of the 9/11 attack, Operation Active Endeavour was initiated and Denmark decided to deploy a corvette to the Mediterranean, as a part of STANAVFORLANT.37 The following year Denmark deployed a submarine and in 2003 two-­patrol boats, and participated in Operation Active Endeavour STROG escorting merchant ships through the Strait of Gibraltar.38 These deployments showed some limitations with the present Danish naval order of battle. The patrol boats and submarine were demanding logistically when it came to maintenance. However, from a political perspective the participation sent the right message, namely Danish support to the US, and fitted perfectly into the Danish strategy of influence. Another consequence of the 9/11 attack was Operation Iraqi Freedom. In 2003, a political debate broke out in the Danish parliament whether Denmark should support this Operation. Previous interventions had seen an overall political consensus in the parliament with the two major parties supporting them.39 With Operation Iraqi Freedom, this changed. The biggest opposition party did not want to support Danish participation and, even though the government had the simple majority in the parliament, they abandoned the initial idea of sending Special Forces. Instead, the government decided to deploy, still without the support of the opposition, a submarine and a corvette to the Arabian Gulf.40 It signaled Danish support for Operation Iraqi Freedom without the risk of losing Danish soldiers in the initial land campaign. The government did not want to send Danish troops into a conflict with the risk of casualties without the support from the opposition. Later, in 2003, the opposition agreed to support the deployment of land troops to Iraq as a part of a stabilisation operation in the country.41 At the same time, the Danish naval presence in the Arabian Gulf was withdrawn. In 2004, a new defence agreement, for the period 2005–2009, was negotiated. The last pieces of the territorial defence disappeared, including the ability to mobilise the male population, which was abandoned. For the navy, the agreement emphasised the importance of participating in NATO standing naval forces and furthermore in continuing its coastguard duties in both the Baltic and North Atlantic.42 Also, Denmark decommissioned its last submarines and minelayers without replacement. Denmark decided instead to order three new frigates of the Ivar

158   Johannes Riber Huitfeldt Class and to investigate a possible replacement for the ageing Lynx maritime helicopter. It was decided to charter two merchant ships for strategic logistic support. The 2004 agreement underlined the change towards a smaller but more global Danish Navy. The costs for the participation in the two conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq put a heavy burden on Danish Defence, as it used the majority of the agreed budget for international operations.43 Therefore, naval operations abroad were limited in the early 2000s. However, in 2006 the Lebanon War broke out between Israel and Hezbollah. After 34 days of fighting, the UN negotiated a ceasefire agreement between the fighting parties.44 The agreement resulted in a significant increase of the UN peacekeeping mission in Lebanon (UNIFIL) and the first naval operation in UN peacekeeping history.45 Denmark decided to deploy on a rotational basis three patrol boats of Flyvefisken Class and a corvette to the Lebanese coast in the period October 2006 to July 2008. With the army heavily involved in Iraq and Afghanistan, the navy was the only alternative for Denmark to contribute to UNIFIL. Danish land forces were first sent to UNIFIL in 2009, two years after the Danish withdrawal from Iraq, further indicating that the navy was used as the only option in the previous years.46 This was the last time Denmark deployed its patrol boats and corvettes into international operations. Overall, the period 2001–2007 had a significant influence on the Danish Armed Forces. When it came to deployment, Danish defence had its focus on the army and the navy therefore only played a minor role. This slowly started to change in the following years, with the withdrawal from Iraq, the rise of piracy in the Indian Ocean and the increased international attention in the Arctic due to climate change.

2007–2017: the beginning of a dual track strategy By 2007, Denmark had been involved in two simultaneous conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan. The navy had received its first large units of the Absalon Class and three new frigates were under construction. Furthermore, two large Arctic patrol crafts were underway or commissioned while a third came in 2016.47 In a sense, these new ships symbolised the two major areas the navy would focus on up to the present. First, global deployment with counter-­piracy, then removal of chemical weapons from Syria and Libya and, later, deployment with a US Carrier Strike Group to the Arabian Gulf. Second, a regional deployment, with an increased maritime presence around Greenland and the Arctic Region. The heavy involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan had given an element of political fatigue for any further military involvement abroad. Political considerations were given, if the costs of the strategy of influence had been too high. Decisions were made to withdraw first from Iraq and then later partly from Afghanistan, which stimulated a debate on the size and priorities of the defence budget. The political fatigue together with the budget cuts would have big implications on the navy in the following years.

The Royal Danish Navy   159 Arctic and Greenlandic independence During the beginning of the new millennium, Greenlandic politicians put increased pressure on the Danish government to give the island a higher level of autonomy. The pressure resulted in a new governance agreement between Greenland and Denmark in 2009,48 which allowed a far higher level of Greenlandic autonomy. It recognised Greenland’s right to readmit, with a few essential exceptions, all political areas from Copenhagen and furthermore underlined that the decision for independence alone rests in Greenland. One of the few areas that Greenland cannot readmit without full independence is foreign and security policy. Denmark continues to represent, in consultation with Greenland and the Faroe Islands, the Kingdom in matters of foreign and security policy. This is not done without criticism from both Faroe Islanders and Greenlandic politicians, often suggesting that Denmark lacks interests in international Arctic matters.49 In the beginning of the 2010s, there was a Greenlandic hope to become independent economically from Denmark, which could lay the base for full Greenlandic independence as the Arctic began to receive more international attention due to climate change combined with the increased international demands for natural resources.50 Suddenly, Denmark stood in a situation where it might lose its access and political influence in the Arctic region within the foreseeable future. The Danish government’s reaction was to initiate a working group, under the Ministry of Defence, followed by a white paper with recommendations on how the defence forces could increase its presence in and around Greenland.51 By increasing especially the navy’s and air force’s presence in the Arctic, Danish politicians hoped to signal the strategic importance of Greenland for Denmark and furthermore a willingness to enforce Greenlandic sovereignty. If Denmark had the responsibility for security and safety at sea, any incident ill-­handled by the navy could add to further criticism of the Danish–Greenlandic relations. Denmark needed to focus more on those areas that could not be readmitted to Greenland unless they became independent. The white paper therefore listed a number of recommendations. These recommendations included an intensified presence in the Arctic by occasionally deploying a frigate to the Faroe Islands, to release an additional Arctic patrol vessel into Greenlandic waters and finally increase air and satellite surveillance of Greenlandic territory and waters.52 Strategically, Greenlandic dreams of independence and overall increased international attention in the Arctic forced Denmark to revisit its strategy in the High North – not in the sense that the Danish Kingdom was threatened from an outside actor, but because it was threatened from the inside by Greenlandic aspirations for independence. Therefore, the navy’s increased focus on the Arctic was not only a result of climate change and an overall international attention, but also an initiative to keep the Kingdom together.

160   Johannes Riber Global involvement: from counter-­piracy to chemical weapons. In June 2007, a Danish merchant vessel Danica White was hijacked by Somali pirates, drawing both public and political attention to maritime insecurity in the Indian Ocean. Until then piracy had not been on the Danish security agenda, but the hijacking completely changed this, because Danica White was owned by a Danish company with a Danish crew.53 Being the world’s sixth-­largest shipping operator measured by tonnage, pressure from the domestic shipping industry increased on the Danish government to get involved in the counter-­piracy operations in the Indian Ocean.54 In 2007, for the first time ever, the newly formed Danish government put anti­piracy in its strategic white paper.55 Two months later, the Arctic patrol vessel HDMS Thetis deployed to the Indian Ocean to become a part of the escort mission protecting World Food programme ships transiting to and from Mogadishu with humanitarian aid.56 By August the same year, the newly built HDMS Absalon deployed to the Indian Ocean to join Task Force 150. This marked the Danish Navy’s involvement in maritime security in the Indian Ocean and, for the period from 2007 to 2017, the navy and air force conducted multiple deployments to the Indian Ocean, either with ships or maritime patrol aircraft.57 It was not only the Danish armed forces that contributed to maritime security in the Indian Ocean. On an institutional level, Denmark supported a number of initiatives. One such initiative was the Contact Group on Piracy off the Coast of Somalia (CGPCS), formed as a reaction to UN Security Council resolution 1851.58 CGPCS consisted of five working groups and Denmark for a period chaired working group two on legal matters.59 Furthermore, Denmark initiated a number of regional maritime initiatives in East Africa, including a bilateral capacity-­ building project with the Kenyan Navy.60 With the deployment of Danish ships to the Indian Ocean, the Danish Navy supported these long-­term initiatives. There might not be a direct influence, however, they were important for Denmark to show its concerns and involvement. If Denmark demanded a greater international involvement though institutions such as CGPCS, such demands would have less international weight if Denmark did not have ships operating in the Indian Ocean. As such, it is more difficult to ask other states to become involved if you are not doing it yourself. The Danish Navy’s deployment to the Indian Ocean was therefore not only about maritime security but also, on the strategic level, a way to demand more international attention. So, while the Danish military involvement in Afghanistan and Iraq was a result of a strategy of influence towards the US, the Danish Navy’s involvement in maritime security in the Indian Ocean aimed at a strategy of influence, towards any state with maritime interests. By 2012, the international effort against piracy had paid off and, for the first time in years, there were a significant drop in piracy attacks.61 The operations had been so effective that NATO terminated its Operation Ocean Shield in 2016.62 The last Danish warship deployed in counter-­piracy was withdrawn in 2015 and replaced with regular deployments of maritime patrol craft instead.63

The Royal Danish Navy  161 Maritime security in the Indian Ocean was not the only international involvement the Danish Navy was tasked to do. In 2013, a new task came after a chemical gas attack in Syria. The attack had initiated an international crisis and the US considered how to respond. The US president was not able to mobilise the political support in congress for an intervention. Instead, an agreement was negotiated between the US and Russia to remove chemical weapons from Syria (RECSYR).64 A task group from Denmark, Norway and the UK was created under Danish Task Group. It is uncertain why Denmark got the leading role in RECSYR. A more obvious choice would have been a greater power or a coastal state in the Mediterranean. However, being given the opportunity, Denmark offered both a warship, HDMS Esbern Snare, and one of its leased merchant vessels to transport the chemicals. Both ships were already deployed and were re-­ directed towards the Syrian coast. A month later, the first chemical weapons were removed and, after half a year, RECSYR was completed.65 Three years later, Denmark was asked to conduct a similar, but far smaller, operation by removing chemical weapons from Libya (RECLIB).66 Participation in RECSYR and RECLIB were unique opportunities for Denmark to continue its strategy of influence. It is even possible that Denmark was asked to contribute to RECSYR because of its close ties with the US. The operation was fully supported by the international community and there was, at Danish political level, a high appetite to contribute, as even the far-­left parties in parliament supported it.67 So, years of international military involvement had possibly positioned Denmark closer to the US and given Denmark a good position to contribute and lead RECSYR.68 A new dual track strategy and budget cuts As mentioned before, Danish politicians had slowly begun to reconsider the strategy of influence and its costs. The defence agreement 2010–2014 was cut short in 2013, with a new agreement for the period 2013–2017, implementing significant cuts of 15 per cent from 2014 onwards.69 The new 2013 defence agreement did not offer much to the Danish Navy, which at the time had received all its three new frigates. However, a single important decision came during the 2014 NATO summit in Wales, where Denmark offered a frigate to NATO’s ballistic missile defence (BMD).70 In 2016, as counter piracy operations stopped, a decision was made to integrate a Danish frigate into a US carrier battle group deployed to the Arabian Sea the following year. From a tactical level, it was important to get this opportunity as it gave the navy a possibility to improve their classical war fighting skills at sea; an area the navy had been neglecting while operating in the Indian Ocean during counter-­piracy operations. On a strategic level, participation in a US carrier battle group was important to maintain close relations to the Amer­icans. Previously the bargaining chip had been heavy involvement with land forces and, even though Denmark continued to have troops both in Iraq and Afghanistan, it was not

162  Johannes Riber a­ nywhere near the scale and intensity that was seen during the mid- and late 2000s. Deploying a frigate with a US carrier battle group was a fairly cheap alternative compared with the billions of krones the two wars in Afghanistan and Iraq had cost.71 Overall, the 2007–2017 period was important to the navy. While Danish land operations were reduced abroad, the navy was increasingly used as a political tool, as it was receiving its new units. The new ships gave Denmark possibilities not seen before. The Danish Navy was now able to deploy and operate from the North Atlantic to the Indian Ocean and contribute to different kinds of naval operations with its closest allies. This transition came with a cost, namely abandoning naval operations in the Baltic above the level of coastguard duties.

2018: A dual strategy, implemented In January 2018, a new defence budget was agreed in the Danish parliament, covering a six-­year period from 2018 to 2023.72 It marked two new important security issues. First, Russia’s new role in European security architecture and second, the criticism Denmark had received for not spending 2 per cent of the GDP on defence.73 This type of criticism was not new, but Denmark had previously balanced it with its high involvement in US-­led conflicts through the strategy of influence. With a new president in the White House, this strategy seems not to be as effective as before. Russia’s annexation of Crimea and war in east Ukraine had furthermore put Denmark in a strategic dilemma. As its land forces the last decades had changed into an expeditionary force able to deploy into asymmetric scenarios around the world, the need for symmetric war fighting capabilities was now present. NATO and the US recalled the need for European states to focus on a European military strategy and dedicate military forces to NATO’s eastern flank as a part of the alliance’s deterrence profile. On that background, Denmark decided to deploy land forces to the Baltic States.74 On the other side, the Danish Navy continues its global operations in the North Atlantic, the Mediterranean and Indian Ocean. While a strategy of deterrence is required from NATO, Denmark still sees the political benefit of being involved globally. With the army mainly engaged in the Enhanced Force Presence in Estonia and partly in the Middle East, the navy has become the tool to maintain a strategy of influence through global involvement. This is seen with a Danish frigate deployed with a French carrier group in 2019.75 It exemplifies what can happen in the coming years. Denmark will probably divide its military strategy into two areas: a strategy of regional involvement with the main task for the army in the Baltic and part of the navy in the North Atlantic; and a strategy of influence mainly conducted by the navy deployed globally; using the air force as a multiplier in both strategies depending on the political priorities.

The Royal Danish Navy  163

Conclusion The historical tradition of naval strategy has focused on power projection. Classical thinkers such as Mahan and Corbett are perfect examples of this. Even the Jeune Ecole, advocating a strategy of the weak, focused on offensive operations through Guerre de Commence. Finally, Admiral Gorshkov argued that the strategic purpose of the navy is strike warfare and nuclear deterrence. Therefore, the historical cornerstone of naval strategy is about power projection of greater powers towards an adversary. It can therefore be difficult to translate these strategic ideas into smaller states’ naval strategy. However, this does not make naval strategy obsolete to smaller states, it just makes it different. In the Danish case, Denmark follows a strategy of balanced influence when it must and a strategy of influence when it can, because strategy of balanced influence is about independence and state survival. So, as the existential threat disappeared in the 1990s, Denmark decided to follow a strategy of influence, which had a significant impact on Danish naval planning. Denmark replaced within 15 years its submarines, FAC and minelayer with fewer but far larger units. The strategy of influence was conducted by deploying land forces, to either the Balkans or the Middle East, with the navy playing a secondary role. Still, the same strategy showed the up- and downsides of small state navies. On the downside, small states cannot afford to have a navy that covers the whole spectrum of naval warfare. It has to prioritise. In the Danish case, it took more than ten years from the change of strategy to the first large units being commissioned. So, while naval ships can be quickly deployed to an area for a long period, compared to land forces, small states’ navies find it difficult to adapt quickly to strategic changes, because they are costly. That said, the Danish Navy has still been important for the Danish strategy of influence. Especially where the army did not have the resources or the political support to deploy. Also, Task Force 150 and RECSYR showed that small states navies can play important and unique roles in international politics. In the Arctic, the Danish Navy continues to be the main player of the three services. For Danish politicians, it is important to show interests and concern for security in the Arctic and a naval presence, mainly in a role of a coastguard, contributes to a Danish strategy of keeping Greenland within the Kingdom. Russia’s new role in Europe forces Denmark to consider which strategy to follow. Denmark is no longer a frontline state and is therefore not as concerned about its own survival as during the Cold War. Also, the expansion of NATO and the EU to the east has completely changed what would be a naval strategy in the Baltic in case of a conflict. While, during the Cold War, Denmark’s role was to prevent Russian access to the North Sea and the Danish coasts, today it would be to assure free access of NATO into the Baltic Sea in cooperation with other NATO Baltic Sea States. Today, Denmark partly follows a regional strategy of deterrence. On the other side, in the last three decades, Denmark has benefited from the strategy of influence. With part of the army in the Baltic States, the main mission for the Danish

164  Johannes Riber Navy in the future will be to contribute to a strategy of influence. Denmark will try to follow what it should not be able to do. To follow a regional and global strategy at the same time by dividing the strategy between the army and navy. The Danish Navy will therefore continue to play an important role in Denmark’s attempt to create influence abroad by deploying globally with partners such as the US, the UK and France.

Notes   1 Jane’s World Navies, World Navies equipment in Service Inventory, 2018, https:// janes-­ihs-com.ezproxy.fak.dk/Janes/Display/jwna0201-jwna (accessed 10 December 2018).   2 Military Today, Ivar Huitfeldt Class and Fridtjof Nansen Class, www.military-­today. com/navy/iver_huitfeldt_class.htm and www.military-­ today.com/navy/fridtjof_ nansen_class.htm (accessed 10 December 2018).  3 Søren Nørby, ‘The Royal Danish Navy’. In Seaforth World Naval Review 2017, Conrad Waters (ed.), p. 82, Barnsley, Seaforth Publishing, 2016.   4 Basil Germond, Small Navies in Perspective: Deconstructing the Hierarchy of Naval Forces in Small Navies. Strategy and Policy for Small Navies in War and Peace, Michael Mulqueen et al. (eds), pp. 33–50, Farnham: Ashgate, 2016.   5 Laurent Goetschel, The foreign and security policy interests of small states in today’s Europe, in Small states in and outside the European Union, Laurent Goetschel (ed.), p. 19, Boston, Springer-­Verlag US, 1998.   6 Jean-­Marc Rickii, ‘European small states’ military policies after the Cold War: From territorial to niche strategies, Cambridge Review of International Affairs 21:3(2008): pp. 309–310.   7 Danish Ministry of Defence, Veteranrapport app. 2, 2010, www.fmn.dk/temaer/veteraner/ veteranpolitik/documents/bilag2veteranrapport.pdf, (accessed 15 October 2018).   8 Poul Villaume, Allieret med forbehold. Danmark, NATO og Den kolde Krig. En studie i dansk sikkerhedspolitik 1949–1961. Copenhagen: Eirene 1995.   9 Magnus Petersson and Håkon Lunde Saxi, Shifting Roles Explaining Danish and Norwegian Alliance Strategy 1949–2009, Journal of Strategic Studies 36:6 (2012): pp. 772–774. 10 Ministry of Defence, Søværnets Historie, 2016, www2.forsvaret.dk/viden-­om/historie/ sovarnets/Pages/Soevaernetshistorie2.aspx (accessed 11 December 2018). 11 Forsvarschefen, Truslen mod Danmark, 1988, https://fe-­ddis.dk/SiteCollection Documents/FE/DenKoldeKrig/Truslen_Mod_Danmark_1988.pdf (accessed 12 October 2018). 12 Forsvarskommissionen af 1988, Forsvaret i 90’erne, 1989, https://fe-­ddis.dk/Site CollectionDocuments/FE/DenKoldeKrig/Dele_af_Beretning_fra_Forsvarskommissionen_ af_1988.pdf (accessed 12 October 2018). 13 Forsvarsministeriet, Aftale om Forsvarets Ordning 1989–1991, p.  3, 1989, www. marinehist.dk/orlogsbib/Forsvarsforlig/19890314-FForlig.pdf (accessed 15 November 2018). 14 Ibid, pp. 16–18. 15 NATO, What was the Warsaw Pact, no date, www.nato.int/cps/us/natohq/ declassified_138294.htm. 16 Ibid. 17 Ibid. 18 Forsvarskommandoen, Aftale om Forsvarets Ordning 1993–94, pp. 1–3, 1992, www. marinehist.dk/orlogsbib/Forsvarsforlig/19921113-FForlig.pdf (accessed 15 November 2018).

The Royal Danish Navy  165 19 Forsvarskommissionen, Beretning fra Forsvarskommissionen af 1997, pp.  21–22, 1998, www.fmn.dk/videnom/Documents/Forsvarskommissionen-­af-1997-Hovedbind-­ beretning.pdf (accessed 15 November 2018). 20 Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Østersøsamarbejd et, no date, http://um.dk/da/udenrigspolitik/lande-­og-regioner/europa/danmark-­i-europa/oestersoesamarbejdet/ (accessed 15 November 2018). 21 Danish Naval History, Tidligere minelægger bliver nyt hjælpeskib I den estiske flåde, 2006, www.navalhistory.dk/Danish/SoevaernsNyt/2006/0424_Lindormen.htm (accessed 15 November 2018). 22 Bent Hansen, Operation Faraway. I den Persiske Golf 1990–91, p.  176, in Søren Nørby(ed.) Fra Kold Krig til internationalt engagement, Helsinge, Steel & Stone, 2015. 23 Søren Nørby and Jakob Seerup, Den Danske Flåde 1850–1943- som fotograferne så den, Copenhagen, Lindhardt og Ringhof, 2007. 24 Søren Flott. Jutlandia, skibet var ladet med håb, Copenhagen, Gyldendal, 2013. 25 John Pomfret, U.N. Tanks kill 9 Serbs in Bosnia, Washington Post, 1994, www. washingtonpost.com/archive/politics/1994/05/02/un-­tanks-kill-­9-serbs-­in-bosnia/e02dd 809-c7d8–4541–929c-eb26da93410a/?noredirect=on&utm_term=.775f6b328846 (accessed 1 October 2018). 26 Nørby, Fra Kold Krig til International Engagement, pp. 238–253. 27 Mark Bromley, United Nations Arms Embargoes Their Impact on Arms Flows and Target Behaviour Case study: Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, 1998–2001, Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (2017) p. 6, www.sipri.org/sites/default/ files/files/misc/UNAE/SIPRI07UNAEFRY.pdf (accessed 12 December 2018). 28 John Andreas Olsen, European Air Power: Challenges and Opportunities, 2014, p. 157, Lincoln, Potomac Books, 2014. 29 GlobalSecurity, www.globalsecurity.org/military/ops/allied-­har0vest.htm (accessed 12 December 2018). 30 Gustav Lang and Erik Dreyer-­Andersen, Maritime Operationer til støtte for operationerne i Kosovo, https://krigsvidenskab.dk/maritime-­operationer-til-­stoette-for-­operationerne-i-­ kosovo (accessed 12 December 2018). 31 Frederik Harhoff et al., Folkeret, pp. 379–380, Hans Reitzels Forlag, Copenhagen, 2017. 32 Retsinformation, Folketingsbeslutning om dansk militært bidrag til en NATO-­indsats på det vestlige Balkan, 1998, www.retsinformation.dk/Forms/R0710.aspx?id=91790. 33 Jens Ravn-­Olesen, Kosovo et år og fem dage efter, Kristeligt Dagblad, 2000, www. kristeligt-­dagblad.dk/kirke-­tro/kosovo-­et-%C3%A5r-og-­fem-dage-­efter (accessed 17 December 2018). 34 Danish Ministry of Defence, Tidligere Forsvarsforlig, 2018, www.fmn.dk/videnom/ Pages/Tidligereforsvarsforlig.aspx, (accessed 17 December 2018). 35 Forsvarskommissionen, Beretning fra Forsvarskommissionen af 1997, p. 20, 1998, www. fmn.dk/videnom/Documents/Forsvarskommissionen-­af-1997-Hovedbind-­beretning.pdf (accessed 15 November 2018). 36 Olesen Mikkel Runge and Johannes Nordby, The Middle Eastern Decade. Denmarks and Military intervention, in Edström et al., Different or Alike, Scandinavian Approaches to Military interventions, pp. 62–64, Santétus Acedemic Press, Stockholm, 2014. 37 Niels-­Peter Mangor, Danske internationale flådeoperationer i det 21. århundrede, 2004, https://krigsvidenskab.dk/danske-­internationale-flaadeoperationer-­i-det-­21-aarhundrede (accessed 17 December 2018). 38 Ibid. 39 Olesen and Nordby, ‘The Middle Eastern Decade’, in Edström and Gyllensporre, pp. 62–63. 40 Martin Kaae and Jesper Nissen, Vejen til Irak-­Hvorfor Danmark går i krig?, p. 209, Gads Forlag, Copenhagen, 2008.

166  Johannes Riber 41 Olesen and Nordby, ‘The Middle Eastern Decade’, in Edström and Gyllensporre, p. 92. 42 Danish Ministry of Defence, Forsvarsforlig 2005–2009, 2004, www.fmn.dk/videnom/ Documents/forlig04_forligstekst.pdf (accessed 17 December 2018). 43 Danish Ministry of Defence, Udviklingen i forsvarsbudgettet I Danmark, www.fmn. dk/nyheder/Documents/Faktaark_2020_Forsvarsministeriet.pdf (accessed 17 December 2018). 44 Jim Clancy et al., U.N.: Cease-­fire begins Monday, CNN, 2006, https://web.archive. org/web/20060819041624/www.cnn.com/2006/WORLD/meast/08/12/mideast.main/ index.html (accessed 17 December 2018). 45 UNIFIL, UNIFIL Mission Profile, 2017, https://unifil.unmissions.org/unifil-­missionprofile (accessed 18 December 2018). 46 Danish Ministry of Defence, Tidligere danske indsatser: Libanon (UNIFIL), 2018, www.fmn.dk/videnom/Pages/IndsatseniLibanon.aspx (accessed 18 December 2018). 47 Jane’s, Jane’s World Navies Denmark – Navy, 2018, https://janes-­ihs-com.ezproxy. fak.dk/Janes/Display/jwna0043-jwna (accessed 18 December 2018). 48 Retsinformation, Lov om Grønlands Selvstyre, 2009, www.retsinformation.dk/forms/ r0710.aspx?id=125052 (accessed 10 November 2018). 49 Mikkel Runge Olesen, Lightning Rod. US, Greenlandic and Danish relations in the shadow of postcolonial reputations, in Greenland and the International Politics of a Changing Arctic, Kristian Søby Kristensen and Jon Rahbek-­ Clemmensen (eds.), pp. 73–74, London, Routledge, 2017. 50 Martin Breum, Cold Rush, pp.  179–180, McGill-­Queen’s University Press, Montreal, 2018. 51 Danish Ministry of Defence, Forsvarsministeriets fremtidige opgaveløsning i Arktis, 2016, www.fmn.dk/nyheder/documents/arktis-­analyse/forsvarsministeriets-­fremtidigeopgaveloesning-­i-arktis.pdf (accessed 15 December 2018). 52 Ibid., pp. 188ff. 53 H. Folmer et al., Fakta om kapringen af Danica White, 2016, www.folmer.dk/news/ news-­in-danish/fakta-­om-danica-­white (accessed 12 December 2018). 54 Danske rederier, Årsberetning 2018, 2018 www.danishshipping.dk/analyse/download/ Publications_Model_Publication/29/danske-­rederier_aarsberetning_dk_2018.pdf (accessed 12 November 2018). 55 VK Regeringen III, Mulighedernes Samfund, 2007, pp. 64–65, www.stm.dk/multimedia/ Mulighedernes_samfund__Regeringsgrundlag.pdf (accessed 19 December 2018). 56 Danish Defence, Piratbekæmpelse I Adenbugten, 2017, www2.forsvaret.dk/viden-­om/ udland/adenbugten/Pages/Adenbugten3.aspx, (accessed 15 November 2018). 57 Ibid. 58 US Department of State, Contact Group on Piracy off the Coast of Somalia, 2017, www.state.gov/t/pm/rls/fs/2017/266864.htm (Accessed 17 December 2018). 59 Ulrik Trolle Smed, Small States in the CGPCS: Denmark, Working Group 2, and the end of the debate on an international piracy court, Working Paper of the Lessons Learned Project of the Contact Group on Piracy off the Coast of Somalia (CGPCS), 2015, www.lessonsfrompiracy.net/files/2015/03/Smed-­Small-states-­in-the-­CGPCSDenmark.pdf (accessed 10 December 2018). 60 Danish Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Strategy for the Danish measures against piracy and armed robbery at sea 2015–2018, 2015, www.fmn.dk/nyheder/Documents/Strategy-­forthe-­Danish-measures-­against-piracy-­and-armed-­robbery-at-­sea-2015–2018.pdf, pp. 18–19, (accessed 15 December 2018). 61 Michele Vespe et al., The declining impact of piracy on maritime transport in the Indian Ocean: Statistical analysis of 5-year vessel tracking data, Marine Policy 59, p. 11, 2015. 62 NATO, Counter-­Piracy Operations (Achieved), 2016, www.nato.int/cps/ie/natohq/ topics_48815.htm (accessed 2 December 2018).

The Royal Danish Navy   167 63 Danish Defence, Piratbekæmpelse I Adenbugten, 2017, www2.forsvaret.dk/viden-­om/ udland/adenbugten/Pages/Adenbugten3.aspx, (accessed 15 November 2018). 64 Michael R. Gordon, U.S. and Russia Reach Deal to Destroy Syria’s Chemical Arms, New York Times, 2013, www.nytimes.com/2013/09/15/world/middleeast/syria-­talks. html (accessed 2 December 2018). 65 Danish Defence, Tidslinje RECSYR, www2.forsvaret.dk/viden-­ om/udland/fn/dkfnmissioner/recsyr/Pages/tidslinje-­recsyr.aspx#2, (accessed 2 December 2018). 66 Danish Defence, Kemiske stoffer fjernet fra Libyen, 2016, www2.forsvaret.dk/ nyheder/intops/Pages/KemiskestofferfjernetfraLibyen.aspx (accessed 2 December 2018). 67 Folketinget, B 29 Forslag til folketingsbeslutning om dansk bidrag til FN’s og OPCW’s mission i Syrien, 2013, www.ft.dk/samling/20131/beslutningsforslag/ B29/36/afstemninger.htm (accessed 2 December 2018). 68 UN Security Council, Resolution 2118(2013), 2013, www.securitycouncilreport.org/ wp-­content/uploads/s_res_2118.pdf (accessed 12 December 2018). 69 Ministry of Defence, Aftale på Forsvarsområdet 2013–2017, 2012, www.fmn.dk/ videnom/Documents/Aftale_paa_forsvarsomraadet_2013-2017a.pdf (accessed 5 December 2018). 70 Atlantic Council, NATO Summit Special Series: Denmark and Norway, 2016 www. atlanticcouncil.org/blogs/natosource/nato-­summit-special-­series-denmark-­and-norway (accessed 2 December 2018). 71 Berlingske, FAKTA: Danmark har postet milliarder I Afghanistan, 2016, www. berlingske.dk/politik/fakta-­danmark-har-­postet-milliarder-­i-afghanistan (accessed 20 December 2018). 72 Ministry of Defence, Ny aftale for Forsvaret 2018–2023, 2018, www.fmn.dk/nyheder/ Pages/ny-­aftale-for-­forsvaret-2018–2023.aspx, (accessed 19 December 2018). 73 Jacky Naegelen, ‘Denmark to up military spending, PM says after Trump call’, Reuters, 16 November 2016, https://uk.reuters.com/article/uk-­usa-trump-­denmarksecurity-­idUKKBN13B2MI (accessed 15 December 2018). 74 Danish Defence, Enhanced Forward Presence, 2018, www2.forsvaret.dk/viden-­om/ udland/nato1/Pages/EnhancedForwardPresence.aspx (accessed 15 December 2018). 75 Soefart, Regeringen vil sende dansk fregat til fransk hangarskib, www.soefart.dk/ article/view/617367/regeringen_vil_sende_dansk_fregat_til_fransk_hangarskib (accessed 15 December 2018).

12 Rebuilding the Ukrainian Navy Maritime security in a highly contested environment Deborah Sanders

Ukraine has been, is and will be a maritime state.1

President Petro Poroshenko

Using the Ukrainian navy as a case study, this chapter explores two related challenges facing many small European navies and one unique Ukrainian challenge. First, this chapter examines the difficulty for small navies of trying to address, simultaneously, very traditional security challenges and those that might be termed ‘new’ maritime security threats. In this regard, the Ukrainian navy offers a fascinating example of the challenges of rebuilding a small navy in what is an increasingly contested maritime environment. On the one hand, the Black Sea, like the Baltic Sea, has become a securitised power projection space for the Russian Federation. On the other, Ukraine also faces ‘new’ maritime security threats such as pollution, drug and nuclear trafficking and illegal good smuggling. In common with other small navies, the Ukrainian navy must consider the assets, capabilities, training and educational requirements necessary to allow its maritime personnel to engage simultaneously in such roles as sea denial operations and national and international maritime security operations. Second, this chapter also explores an enduring challenge facing many small European navies: how to balance commitments against resources in an age of austerity when there is considerable pressure on national budgets. One response to this problem is greater innovation and adaption: essentially changing the naval paradigm that is used to conceptualise solutions. In the Ukrainian context this has meant developing a new maritime strategy and adopting a ‘mosquito fleet’ concept to address the complex range of security challenges Kyiv faces in the maritime domain. These examples of Ukrainian innovation have also demonstrated some of the wider obstacles facing small navies in adapting their approaches to address maritime security challenges; not least in terms of the practical deliverability of the naval concept Ukraine has adopted. Ukraine, unlike the other small European navies discussed in this book, also faces a unique challenge; it is, in effect, rebuilding rather than simply modernising or transforming its navy to meet the diverse maritime challenges of the twenty-­first century.

Rebuilding the Ukrainian Navy  169 The illegal annexation of Crimea by the Russian Federation in 2014 had a devastating effect on the Ukrainian navy. Ukraine lost the majority of its capital ships, its maritime bases and infrastructure and its most experienced maritime personnel.2 It lost access to a third of its Black Sea coastline, control of the Kerch Straits and access to the defence industries located in Crimea.3 After the seizure, the Ukrainian navy was described by many commentators as having been ‘decimated’ or ‘destroyed’.4 Andri Ryzenko, the former Deputy Head of the Ukrainian Navy, described the fleet as an ‘operational shadow of its former self ’ in urgent need of rebuilding.5 To further compound these losses, the Ukrainian government, fighting a prolonged and, at times, highly attritional conflict in the east has focused on increasing the combat effectiveness of its land and air rather than its naval forces. As a result, the Ukrainian navy has been neglected and underfunded. Highlighting the growing imbalance between maritime security threats and naval capabilities, the Ukrainian President Petro Poroshenko recently stated that the maritime domain had become ‘the most vulnerable in Ukraine’s defensive arrangements.’6 In an attempt to address this imbalance, the Ukrainian government has published a new ‘Ukrainian Naval Strategy-­2035’, which creates a vision for the regeneration of the Ukrainian navy with a view to increasing both the quantitative and qualitative aspects of maritime power while also bringing it up to NATO standards. This chapter begins by examining the many maritime security threats facing Kyiv before then evaluating the extent to which the new naval strategy will allow Ukraine to develop an effective and efficient small navy able to address these challenges in its maritime domain. It will argue that, while Ukraine faces an increasingly contested maritime security domain awash with complex traditional challenges, newer maritime security challenges also remain important. It will also argue that, while Ukraine has made progress in developing the conceptual framework necessary to create a modern small navy, many challenges lie ahead in successfully implementing this plan. Some of these challenges include the need for sustained government investment in and prioritisation of the navy and ongoing problems with Ukraine’s shipbuilding industry. Ukraine faces a complex mix of traditional and new maritime security challenges where, though the latter have become no less important, they have become much harder to address because of the former. Since the end of the Cold War, maritime security has generally been conceptualised in progressively broader terms.7 The more traditional maritime security agenda, focusing on issues such as conventional military threats, has been augmented and in some cases supplanted by a focus on an agenda comprising so called ‘new’ challenges.8 These include counter-­ terrorism, anti-­ piracy operations, counter-­ narcotics and a range of activities that contribute to security in a wider sense.9 This broader conception of maritime security has come under challenge in the Black Sea. The significant build-­up of Russian military forces in Crimea as well as Moscow’s support for proxy forces in the ongoing conflict in the east of Ukraine, Russia’s introduction of a maritime blockade in the Sea of Azov and its attacks on the Ukrainian navy and seizure of its maritime assets and personnel

170  Deborah Sanders and its use of hybrid warfare to undermine neighbours has led to an increasingly contested and miltiarised maritime environment dominated by traditional security concerns more reminiscent of the Cold War. As a result, traditional maritime security threats such as changes in the balance of power, naval confrontation and military conflict on the shores of the Black Sea have come to define the core elements of the maritime security agenda facing Ukraine. As will be discussed below, while new maritime security challenges threaten Ukraine’s blue economy and its security, its ability to address these challenges is, ultimately, hostage to the dynamics of more conventional maritime conflict. So, what are the more traditional maritime security challenges Ukraine faces in the Black Sea? The first and perhaps most challenging maritime security issue facing Ukraine has been the significant increase in Russia’s strategic footprint given its heavy fortification of Crimea and its subsequent ability to project maritime power in the Black Sea and beyond. In the early months after annexation, Russia implemented a Crimean Defence Plan and moved quickly to enhance its military power on the peninsular. It developed a fully capable air defence system and deployed S-­400, Bastion and Bal missiles, giving it the ability to establish an A2/AD covering almost all of the Black Sea.10 Russia also doubled the number of service personnel and increased its tanks, armored vehicles, artillery and helicopters.11 Under the last state armament programme 2011–2020, the Black Sea Fleet has improved multirole capabilities. It took delivery of two new missile ships, frigates and six conventional submarines which carry Kalibr cruise missiles.12 Estimates suggest that Russia spent US$750 million and has effectively ‘turned Crimea into a strong force projection beachhead in the region’.13 Russia has ambitious plans to further increase its maritime power in the Black Sea with the construction of new light tonnage vessels such as missile ships, which are heavily armed.14 Due to shipbuilding and financial constraints, Russia will look to refurbish and upgrade its legacy fleet and supplement these platforms with shorter-­range more modern multipurpose ships equipped with long-­range missiles able to augment coastal defense systems and naval aviation able to protect its interests in the Black Sea.15 Russia has also recently deployed new sophisticated and highly mobile long-­range detection radars in Crimea.16 It has also significantly enhanced the training and effectiveness of its Black Sea Fleet personnel as a result of their deployment to the Mediterranean.17 As well as facing a threatening militarised maritime domain in the Black Sea, Ukraine has also seen an increase in conflict at sea and from the sea. In December 2015, Russia hijacked three offshore oil drilling rigs belonging to Ukraine located in its territorial waters and towed them back to Crimea. Russia has also seized eight maritime gas fields belonging to Ukraine in the Black Sea, extracting the largest quantity of gas from the Odeske gas field located near Ukraine’s port of Odessa.18 Direct conflict between Russia and Ukraine in the maritime domain has also increased.19 In early 2018, a Ukrainian coastguard ship involved in intelligence gathering near the coast of Crimea was directly confronted by two Russian combat patrol ships and a Russian SU24 bomber. The development by

Rebuilding the Ukrainian Navy  171 the pro-­Russian separatists in the east of Ukraine of an alleged mosquito fleet in 2015 has also increased the possibility of attacks from the sea, in particular on Ukraine’s key ports in the sea of Azov, Mariupol and Berdyansk. A report by a Russian newspaper in 2015 claimed that an Azov flotilla with a maritime Spetsnaz element has been set up by the Donetsk People’s Republic.20 The development of a small, highly mobile fleet equipped with anti-­tank guided missiles, automatic grenade launchers and machine guns able to carry out attacks on ports and conduct raids or sabotage missions is clearly a potential threat to Ukraine’s maritime security.21 While the Ukrainian navy has dismissed this as a threat, there is still justifiable concern that this flotilla was set up as a means of providing cover for a potential Russian amphibious assault on key Ukrainian ports and beaches in the Sea of Azov at some point in the future.22 Russia has used its forces and assets to protect the interests and fighting power of the separatists in the east. During the first year of the conflict in the Donbas, Russian forces surged across the border to provide military support for the Russian-­backed separatists who were facing defeat in high intensity land battles in Iloviask and Debaltseve. Highlighting legitimate concerns that Russian forces could also be used in the maritime domain to influence events on land, the Ukrainian military has recently placed mines along the beaches and coastline off Mariupol. In July 2018, the Ukrainian President warned that a ‘military operation, an attack on Maripuol’ was possible.23 In an interview, Major-­General Yuriy Sodol, Ukraine’s Naval Infantry Commander, highlighted the threat from Russia when he stated that, in providing Ukrainian marines with new and modernised models of arms and military equipment and training, Ukraine is ‘giving special attention to defending our coast from invasion from the sea’.24 Conflict at sea between Russia and Ukraine has also increased with the introduction of an economic blockade by Russia in the Sea of Azov. From mid-­May 2018, the coastguard service of the Russian FSB (Federal Security Service) has been stopping merchant ships heading to and from the Ukrainian ports of Mariupol and Berdyansk. In light of growing tensions between Russia and Ukraine, Russia has also strengthened their contingent of warships and boats to the Sea of Azov, deploying vessels from the Caspian flotilla and large amphibious assault units.25 Ukraine’s maritime interests have been severely compromised by this blockade and the building of the Russian bridge across the Kerch Straits linking the Russian mainland to Crimea. As a result of the height restrictions under the bridge, the commercial port of Mariupol will be unable to use 40 per cent of its larger commercial vessels and the Berdyansk seaport also predicts that freight turnover will drop by 50 per cent.26 While the Russians have justified their maritime ‘inspections’ in light of concern about potential Ukrainian terrorist attacks on the new Kerch Straits bridge,27 the cost of the economic blockade on the Ukrainian economy has been enormous.28 In the first three months, Russian border guards stopped 148 ships for inspection, costing the shipping companies between 10,000 and 50,000 US dollars a day in lost revenue.29 Ukraine’s infrastructure minister, Volodymyr Omelyan, has estimated that Ukraine will lose billions in lost revenue if the blockade continues and the effect on the regional

172  Deborah Sanders economy will be devastating.30 In November 2018, the attack on and seizure by the Russian coastguard of three Ukrainian naval ships and 24 sailors heading from Odessa to the port of Mariupol in the Sea of Azov has led to direct conflict at sea between Ukraine and its larger and more powerful neighbour.31 After months of growing tension in the Sea of Azov between Russia and Ukraine, on 23 November two Ukrainian naval patrol boats and a tug boat heading though the Kerch Straits to reinforce the Ukrainian navy were accused of violating Russia’s territorial waters and fired upon before being seized and taken to the Crimean port of Kerch.32 However, according to international law, as Crimea is under military occupation by Russia, the peninsula and its surrounding waters remain Ukrainian territory. In addition, the Sea of Azov is designated as ‘internal waters’ of both states under an agreement signed in 2003 signifying that this is clearly an illegal seizure. While Russia has temporarily re-­opened the Kerch Straits, the potential threat of a future closure by Russia and the ongoing threat to Ukraine’s maritime economic interests remain high. Estimates suggest that Ukraine could lose up to 2 per cent of its gross domestic product as a result of a full blockade of the region.33 In light of the Russian threat to its maritime interests, Ukraine has stepped up security at critical infrastructure sites, including at nuclear and hydroelectric power plants, chemical factories and at ports on the Black Sea and the Sea of Azov.34 Ukraine also faces several important ‘new’ maritime security challenges, including drug trafficking and illicit good smuggling as well as chemical pollution and nuclear trafficking. The emergence of traditional maritime security threats already discussed has, however, made these newer maritime security issues much harder to address. The ability to resolve these challenges through cooperative measures is ultimately hostage to good or at least cordial relations among littoral states.35 Drug trafficking and illicit good smuggling remain a serious problem. Heroin is trafficked along a sub-­branch of the Balkan route that goes from the Islamic Republic of Iran to the countries of the southern Caucasus (mainly Azerbaijan and Georgia) for shipment across the Black Sea to Ukraine and then by land, partly through the Republic of Moldova, to Romania for onward trafficking along the eastern branch of the Balkan route to Western Europe.36 Cocaine is shipped from South America in large quantities through the ports of the Black Sea including Ukraine.37 For Ukraine, the port of Odessa is recognised as an important transit hub for drugs through container shipping in seaports.38 The movement of illicit goods has also re-­emerged as a serious concern after a barge full of millions of packs of cigarettes washed ashore in Odessa in November 2018.39 In addition, the area surrounding the Dniester River and the Danube Delta along Ukraine’s western border with Romania is a hub for small craft that are involved in illegal activity.40 In light of the these challenges Ukraine has recently established two port control units, one in the Odessa Sea port and the other at Borispol International airport, to undertake specialised profiling, targeting and examining of high-­risk containers used to transport illicit goods.41 Chemical pollution at sea is also a considerable ‘newer’ maritime security challenge for Ukraine.42 Operational or illegal discharges of oil by maritime

Rebuilding the Ukrainian Navy  173 vessels are a very real concern, particularly along major shipping routes and Ukrainian ports. As a result of these discharges the worst surface oil pollution is concentrated along the main shipping routes in the Black Sea between Istanbul and Novorossiysk, Istanbul and Odessa, and Istanbul and Tuapse as ships discharge oil-­containing waste several times along their routes.43 Illegal discharges of oil have also increased in the Black Sea and cause considerable harm to the sea ecosystem.44 Oil patches often covering tens of square kilometers can be regularly detected. Tensions in the region and strained relations among states are hampering Ukraine’s ability to address these maritime security challenges. While the Black Sea Convention, signed by all six littoral states in 1994, set up a regional cooperation framework to protect against pollution, this issue has effectively fallen off the political agenda and pollution monitoring has been seriously compromised. Ukrainian environmental authorities in Odessa are currently unable to monitor pollution around Crimea and talks among Black Sea littoral states have been suspended.45 In addition to environmental issues, the Black Sea is widely recognised as being at the centre of the world’s nuclear black market, and nuclear trafficking is a serious and growing maritime security threat. There have been over 630 nuclear-­trafficking incidents recorded in the Black Sea between 1991 and 2012, and five of the seven more recent incidents have involved the unauthorised possession of highly enriched uranium.46 Highlighting the scale of the problem, in the first six months of 2016, there were three incidents involving the trafficking of radioactive materials in Georgia. In an April 2016 incident, Georgian officials arrested five men who had transported uranium isotopes for sale to the Black Sea coastal resort of Kobuleti, not far from the Turkish border.47 Several seizures of uranium and other radioactive material in other Black Sea ports also suggest that maritime routes have been used for nuclear smuggling. Small amounts of concealed nuclear or radioactive material are harder to detect aboard large cargo ships, particularly as these are less likely to be monitored for radioactivity and can be easily unloaded onto small boats. Indicating the scale of the maritime security problem, local authorities in the Georgian port of Batumi have intercepted eight nuclear-­smuggling attempts since 1999 and there have been ten nuclear-­trafficking incidents in and around the Ukrainian port of Odessa.48 Exacerbating this problem of nuclear trafficking is the presence of ungoverned spaces in the Black Sea region, which have increasingly become a source of and haven for nuclear smuggling. With the declaration of independence by Luhansk and Donetsk in the east of Ukraine in 2014, there are now five unresolved or ‘frozen’ conflicts in the wider Black Sea that provide ungoverned spaces. These include Nagorno Karabakh, the disputed enclave between Armenia and Azerbaijan; Transnistria in Moldova; Abkhazia and South Ossetia in Georgia; and the Donbas in the east of Ukraine. Unresolved separatist conflicts have created a belt of internationally unrecognised, but de facto, states that operate in an environment of lawlessness and provide fertile ground and safe havens for organised crime and smuggling networks. Ungoverned spaces in the wider Black Sea are particularly attractive for nuclear smuggling as they often host industrial facilities and military

174  Deborah Sanders bases containing nuclear material and have lenient penal codes and lax or corrupt law enforcement systems.49 Suggesting the scale of the problem posed by ungoverned spaces in 2014, the Ukrainian Security Services arrested nine people trying to smuggle nuclear material from Transnistria to eastern Ukraine. Raising further concern about nuclear smuggling from ungoverned spaces, Kyiv has now lost regulatory control over its nuclear sources and facilities in eastern Ukraine due to the ongoing conflict, including 65 entities that use ionizing radiation, including eight with very high-­level radiation sources and one repository of radioactive waste near Donetsk chemical plant.50 In light of this mix of traditional and newer maritime security challenges and the urgent need to rebuild its very small navy, Ukraine published its first ever naval strategy in November 2018. The purpose of this strategy is to create a vison for the Ukrainian navy and to lay out its missions and values. While the mission of the Ukrainian navy is certainly ambitious, the strategy is inherently pragmatic, clearly stating that Ukraine will build up maritime roles and capabilities gradually. In the introduction, President Poroshenko makes it clear that regenerating Ukraine’s small navy is a long-­term project. He states that, while the main task of the navy is to rebuild naval capabilities, this will ‘require new thinking, a certain amount of time and considerable resources’.51 In addition, while the mission of the Ukrainian navy is ambitious, there is a recognition that this rebuilding will need to take place over the next two decades in stages – the first from 2018–2025 the second 2025–2030 and the last stage from 2030–2035. The aim of the Ukrainian navy is ‘to deter aggression, protect the sovereignty and territorial integrity of Ukraine to ensure maritime safety, economic growth and international stability, in conjunction with the national forces of defense and strategy security patterns, at sea and from the sea’.52 To meet these objectives the Ukrainians have adopted a mosquito fleet concept.53 A mosquito force aims to deny command of the sea to adversaries with larger and more powerful navies.54 The idea behind a mosquito fleet is that small, fast and relatively cheap platforms, backed up by gunboats, mines and coastal defence ships, engage in a strategy of coastal defence with the aim of making it impossible for an enemy to approach one’s coastline.55 This concept is made clear in the new naval strategy in which the Ukrainians lay out what could best be described as a coastal defense theory using a mosquito fleet. Coastal defence theory adopted by the Ukrainians has much in common with the Soviet New School approach to maritime power that emerged in the Soviet Union in the 1920s and 1930s.56 This school advocated localised defence of the Soviet coastline, using mines, coastal artillery, torpedo boats and submarines, enhanced by close inter-­service cooperation and good communication.57 Coastal defence theory was also used by the Norwegians during the Cold War to counter the Russian Fleet in the North Sea and its aim was to deter ‘large scale naval action through inflicting punishment rather than crudely attempting to defeat it’.58 Coastal defence theory tends to be of greater interest to smaller, weaker states and the effectiveness of this strategy has been demonstrated by Iran’s long-­term naval strategy since the 1980s, which assumes warfare against larger more established navies, such as the US, and has been

Rebuilding the Ukrainian Navy  175 focused on asymmetrical tactics. Rather than develop a conventional navy, the Iranians have focused on coastal missile batteries, anti-­ship missiles, FAC, naval mines, Unmanned Aerial Vehicles (UAVs) and small submarines.60 While Ukraine has no plans to build submarines in the near future, its naval procurement plans contain platforms and capabilities very similar to the Iranians. During stage one of rebuilding, Ukraine aims to develop sea, land and airborne anti-­ship missiles, develop cruise missiles and in the next stage up to 2030 to also recreate its surface fleet. Over the next few years Ukraine will acquire Lan class fast attack missile boats that will deter intrusions in Ukraine’s EEZ and be used to protect its surface and under-­sea maritime domain. The second stage of rebuilding the navy will necessitate procuring multi-­purpose patrol and mine countermeasure platforms to engage in escort and protection and detect and neutralise mine threats. The first of these second stage tasks, escort and protection, will be performed by the two US Island-­Class offshore patrol boats that Ukraine has just taken into service from the US. The last stage of rebuilding the navy will include the procurement of fast amphibious boat platforms capable of delivering marines and Special Forces into theatre.61 Ukraine’s new naval strategy also recognises the importance of developing the conceptual and moral elements of fighting power. In particular, this will involve developing appropriate doctrine and the adoption of NATO principles, standards and values, as well as looking at qualitative issues such as training and education and morale of maritime personnel. Despite the adoption of a pragmatic, logical and comprehensive new naval strategy, Ukraine will face many challenges in implementing this plan and building an effective and efficient small navy. The first and most important challenge is resources. In the light of the ongoing conflict in the east, the government has made the difficult decision to prioritise defence spending on increasing the combat effectiveness of its land and air rather than naval forces.62 As a result of this prioritisation, while Ukraine’s defense budget has significantly increased year on year since the annexation of Crimea, the navy’s share of the overall budget has remained small.63 In 2018, Ukraine’s defence budget increased again by more than 24 per cent to UAH16.8 billion ($3.9 bn) with just over 20 per cent reserved for armaments and military equipment.64 Given the high capital costs of meeting the phase one requirements of the new naval strategy, a rearmament budget for all three services of $603 million is unlikely to be enough to meet these objectives.65 Further compounding these financial challenges is the issue of whether or not the government has in the limited armaments budget prioritised the purchase of the right sort of small attack craft during stage one of its regeneration. During the first stage of building its mosquito fleet, Ukraine is continuing to purchase a significant number of Gurza-­M artillery cutters. While these boats have formed the backbone of the current Ukrainian navy, making up a third of its ships before the Russian seizure of two in the Kerch Straits, these cutters are slow and weather-­limited and divert Ukraine’s limited resources away from the purchase of fast attack craft. The Gurza-­M was designed in 2003 for the then Uzbek President Islam Karimov for guarding and controlling the 59

176  Deborah Sanders Amudarya river and is ideal for riverine operations. However, despite the plan to procure 18 more of these boats, the Gurza-­M cannot operate in high winds, has a maximum speed of only 25 knots and can be used only when the sea is not too rough.66 If Ukraine is to build an effective mosquito fleet it needs to prioritise the rapid addition of its Centaur FAC. The Ukrainian navy is currently waiting for the addition of two of these boats based on a concept design previously tested by the Swedish navy and later adopted by Russia for its project 03160 Raptor Class, eight of which are deployed with Russia’s Black Sea Fleet.67 The Centaur are fast and the warship of choice for navies seeking effective defence against more powerful adversaries at sea. However, due to a long logistic tail in procurement, the Ukrainians are likely to continue to procure ineffective Gurza-­M cutters that cannot be used effectively to counter the growing Russian threat in the Sea of Azov. While the second stage of regenerating the Ukrainian navy looks more promising, in practise financial challenges are also likely to emerge with the construction and funding of these capital ships required to perform task two discussed earlier. In November 2017, the Ukrainian Cabinet of Ministers adopted a decision to resume the funding of Ukraine’s multi-­role corvettes-­type warships of the 58250, ‘Vladimir the Great’ series.68 However, six months later, the head of the Ukrainian navy, Ihor Voronchenko, stated that this project had been postponed due to a lack of funds. According to Voronchenko, the government lacked the $51 million necessary to carry out construction of these warships. Highlighting his concerns that Ukraine’s shipbuilding industry had reached what he referred to as a ‘state of no return’, Voronchenko called for the immediate funding of this project to protect the shipbuilding industry.69 At the root of the problem of regenerating Ukraine’s small navy is the parlous state of the Ukrainian economy, which has necessitated hard choices and will continue to do so in the near future. The Ukrainian government is still fighting a financially costly war in the east and the Ukrainian economy has been slow to recover from the crisis. In a speech to the UN summit in New York in September 2015, the Ukrainian President, Petro Poroshenko, spelled out the high economic costs of the conflict. Poroshenko claimed that the conflict in the east was costing Ukraine $5 million a day. He also went on to point out that, due to the loss of its eastern territories, Ukraine had also lost about a fifth of its economic potential.70 The recovery of Ukraine’s industry has also been interrupted by the severance of trade ties with the temporarily occupied territories of Donetsk and Luhansk regions, with estimates suggesting that this cost Ukraine up to 1.5 per cent of GDP growth in 2017.71 Although there have been some positive signs that Ukraine’s economy has begun to recover, with robust growth in manufacturing, services and construction, weaknesses remain in the agriculture and mining sectors and the difficultly of attracting foreign capital suggest that this recovery will be at best modest over the next year.72 The delay in the adoption of the law on privatisation and the establishment of an anti-­corruption court, as well as the government’s reluctance to raise the price of gas, has led to the suspension of Ukraine’s cooperation with the International Monetary Fund and external financing from both the EU and the World Bank.73 Compounding these structural economic problems is the fact that

Rebuilding the Ukrainian Navy  177 Ukraine’s small rearmament budget is also likely to be negatively affected by the ongoing high rate of inflation in Ukraine, which in annual terms (November 2018 from November 2017) grew to 10 per cent from 9.5 per cent in October and 8.9 per cent in September 2018.74 Defence inflation is likely to remain a major problem in Ukraine over the next few years, forcing the government to make tough decisions about future force priorities. As a result of weak domestic demand historically, a lack of government investment and corruption in the shipbuilding industry, Ukraine will also face a number of practical challenges in regenerating its fleet.75 In a sign of the extent of the problem, the National Anti-­Corruption Agency of Ukraine has begun to investigate Ukraine’s state-­run defence production enterprise, UkrOboronProm, a consortium of around 130 companies with 80,000 employees.76 Ukr­ OboronProm’s main industries include aircraft construction and repair, the production of armoured vehicles, radio electronics and shipbuilding.77 The Ukrainian State Company UkrOboronProm was created by a Resolution of the Cabinet of Ministers of Ukraine in December 2010 by former President Yanukovych in an attempt to concentrate Presidential control over the financial flows of Ukraine’s defence industry. When President Poroshenko came to power, he largely retained the old structure, placing some of his own business associates into key positions, which triggered accusations that he was prolonging corruption and hampering the development of Ukraine’s defence sector.78 Recent serious allegations against UkrOboronProm have included large-­ scale fraud involving transfers to bank accounts of a family member of one of the Ukrainian state arms maker and exporter’s top managers, as well as re-­selling Soviet-­era armoured vehicles imported from Poland at artificially high prices.79 In addition to allegations of corruption, Ukraine’s shipbuilding industry has become increasingly politicised, which could also damage the regeneration of the Ukrainian navy. In April 2018, the Ukrainian President was accused of deliberately stalling the acceptance of the two US Island class patrol boats from the US as it would take business from his privately owned Kuznya Na Rubalskomy shipyard.80 According to an investigation by Radio Liberty/Radio Free Europe, taking the US boats could cause cuts in the state defence procurement contract awarded to Poroshenko’s Kyiv based shipyard to produce Gurza-­M class patrol boats for the Ukrainian navy.81 In a sign of ongoing problems in Ukraine’s shipbuilding industry, in October 2017 UkrOboronProm announced the suspension of all works at the Mykolaiv shipyard due to its accruing debts.82 The Mykolaiv facility produced and repaired both military and civilian platforms and had designed the Gurza M class patrol boat. Due to the recent closure of the Mykolaiv shipyard in 2018, Kuznya is the only enterprise in the country that now produces small military naval vessels and has also been awarded the contract for producing the Centaur fast attack boats. The loss of this significant shipyard severely limits the scope for competition within Ukraine’s domestic shipbuilding industry. Ukraine’s shipbuilding industries also suffer from a lack of transparency. Highlighting the extent of the problem, allegations have surfaced of a secret

178  Deborah Sanders c­ ontract between the state and Kuznya to sweeten the sale of this shipyard to another powerful Ukrainian oligarch.83 In an attempt to divest himself of almost 100 businesses before the next presidential election, President Poroshenko announced his plans to sell the Kuznya shipyard. A contract for engine repairs on Ukraine’s frigate was signed right before the sale of the shipyard was agreed between Prime Assets Capital, Poroshenko’s holding company, and Sergiy Tigipko, the owner of the TAS Group business empire and close ally of ex-­ Ukrainian president Viktor Yanukovych.84 As a result of this non-­tendered contract, Tigipko gains a multimillion Hryvnia contract for the next two years. While some commentators have claimed that this contract was legitimate as Kuznya is the only company able to perform engine repairs on the Hetman Sahaydachniy frigate, the ongoing lack of transparency in tendering, as well as the loss of key shipbuilding facilities and their ownerships by Ukrainian oligarchs, could hamper Ukraine’s ability to competitively and effectively build the most appropriate new naval platforms domestically. Ukraine has, however, made some notable progress in developing new weapons systems, which will go some way to increasing its maritime power in the short term. In December 2018, President Poroshenko announced the mass production of the new Neptune cruise missile, which in tests had destroyed a target at a distance of 280 km. The Neptune is a domestically produced subsonic weapon developed for the maritime environment, which can also be deployed against land targets. The secretary of the National Security and Defence Council, Oleksandr Turchinov, noted that the creation of this new cruise missile would significantly increase the effectiveness of Ukraine’s coastal defence.85 Further augmenting Ukraine’s limited maritime power, these new weapons will also be installed on Ukraine’s new fast attack cutters and its project 5820 corvettes, when they come into service.86 In addition to procuring new weapons systems, Ukraine has also sought to increase security cooperation with key neighbours in the Black Sea in order to address some of their common maritime security concerns. In a meeting in September 2018, the heads of the Ukrainian and Turkish navies discussed increasing military cooperation and also how to foster cooperation in the Black Sea region and increase naval diplomacy.87 In addition to increasing its maritime cooperation with Turkey, Ukraine’s small navy has also benefited enormously from increasing US engagement. Over the past decade, the US has provided over two billion US dollars to the Ukraine military in the form of non-­lethal equipment and training via waived payments under the Foreign Military Financing Program.88 In 2015, they provided five Rigid Hull Inflatable Boats (RHIBs) for operations in shallow littorals.89 More recently, US President Donald Trump approved the supply of lethal weapons to Ukraine and this has led to further assistance on platform and combat systems, boat and ship acquisition, and industrial capacity assistance projects.90 In May 2018, Congress approved $250 m in military assistance to Ukraine for 2019 and Kurt Volker, US special envoy for Ukraine, stated that Washington was ready to further expand arms supplies to Ukraine in order to build up the country’s naval and air defence forces in the face of continuing Russian support for eastern separatists.91 In a

Rebuilding the Ukrainian Navy  179 clear sign of its ongoing commitment, Congress has recently authorised the US government to provide Ukraine with air defence and coastal defence radars, naval mine and countermine capabilities, and littoral-­zone and coastal defence vessels.92 In conclusion, it is clear that despite developing a new naval strategy, an innovative fleet concept and having made progress in developing new weapons systems, the Ukrainian navy, in common with the other small navies discussed in this book, faces two challenges. Ukraine faces a complex mix of traditional and ‘new’ maritime security challenges similar to those faced by many small European navies, particularly those in the Baltic Sea. Russia’s militarisation of the Black Sea as well as Moscow’s ongoing harassment of the Ukrainian navy and its commercial ships has created an increasingly threatening and dangerous maritime domain where Ukraine is struggling to protect and advance its maritime interests. Ukraine, in common with other European navies, is also confronted by ‘new’ security challenges which, in many ways, have become much harder to address due to the absence of regional maritime security cooperation between littoral states. Strained and difficult relations between states in the Black Sea has ultimately hampered their ability to collectively cooperate and deal with important ‘new’ maritime security challenges such as pollution, drug and nuclear trafficking. In essence, a contested maritime environment in the Black Sea has pushed the newer maritime security threats off the Ukrainian agenda. A second common challenge that both Ukraine and the other small European navies also face is how to engage in naval regeneration in an age of austerity where there are competing demands on an overstretched budget. Although the Ukrainian economy has shown some positive signs of recovery, it remains in a precarious state and this means that future governments will be forced to make hard choices about defence priorities. The Kerch Strait incident in November 2018 has created the necessary political impetus and public support to rebuild the Ukrainian navy. However, despite this political momentum, regenerating the Ukrainian navy is likely to be adversely affected by the high costs of capital ships and the politicisation of and corruption prevalent in Ukraine’s shipbuilding industry. Unlike the other European small navies discussed in this book, Ukraine also faces a unique challenge in addressing maritime security challenges. Kyiv is building rather than transforming its small navy and must generate maritime capabilities in a weak state context in which major economic challenges and an ongoing and brutal conflict in the east of the country ultimately interfere with the ability to establish and implement effective maritime policy and strategy.

Notes   1 Petro Poroshenko, President of Ukraine, Ministry of Defence of Ukraine official website, 10 April 2015, www.mil.gov.ua/en/news/2015/04/10/president-­ukraine-was-­ is-and-­will-be-­a-maritime-­state/4 August  2014.   2 Deborah Sanders, ‘Rebuilding the Ukrainian Navy’, US Naval War College Review, 70/4, 2017, 1–17; Tatiana Urbanskaya, ‘Deputy Chief of Ukraine’s Navy: terms of

180  Deborah Sanders operation of all Ukrainian military vessels will have run out by 2018’, UNIAN News, 6 July 2015.   3 ‘Crimean losses and their consequences’, Defence Express website, Kiev, in Russian, 24 April 2016, as reported on BBC Monitoring, monitoring.bbc.co.uk/.   4 Dmitry Tymchuk, ‘Ukrainian military resistance ends in Crimea; Navy destroyed’, as published in Kyiv Post, 26 March 2014; also see Tim Ripley, ‘Ukrainian navy decimated by Russian move into Crimea’, IHS Jane’s Defence Weekly, 25 March 2014.   5 Andri Ryzenko, ‘Conceptual Paper: “Model and Reformation of the Ukrainian Navy 2015–2020” ’, Odessa, 25 May 2015 (copy given to author by Captain Ryzenko at US Navy Conference on Maritime Security in Naples in June 2016).  6 Ukrainian Navy: Naval Strategy 2035 Kyiv: Ministry of Defence of Ukraine, Odessa, Kyiv, November 2018.   7 Christian Bueger, ‘What Is Maritime Security?’ Marine Policy, no. 53 (2015): 159–64; Ian Speller, Understanding Naval Warfare (Abingdon, UK: Routledge, 2014), 151.  8 C. Bueger and T. Edmunds, ‘Beyond Seablindness: A New Agenda for maritime Security Studies’, International Affairs, 93 (6). 1293–1311; Council of the EU, ‘EU Maritime Security Strategy’, 2014.  9 United Nations General Assembly, ‘Oceans and Laws of the Sea: Report of the Secretary-­General’, UN Doc A/63/63 (New York: United Nations, 2008), paragraphs 54–108. 10 ‘On Alert, Crimea to get BUK missile systems’, Sputnik International, 27 February 2017; ‘Russia deploys more surface-­to-air missiles in Crimean build-­up’, Reuters, 13 January 2018. 11 Sergey Ishchenko, ‘Fortress Crimea. How Russia’s defensive arrangements on the peninsula look’, Svpressa.ru website, Moscow, in Russian, 18 March 2015 as reported on BBC Monitoring. 12 Dmitry Boltenkov, ‘It protects shores: Why Black Sea Fleet did not take part in halting Ukrainian act of provocation’, Izvestia, 27 November 2018 as reported on BBC Monitoring online. 13 Yuri Barash, ‘Armed and dangerous: Prospects for the development of groups of the Russian Armed Forces in Crimea’, Defense-­Express website, Kiev, in Russian, 29 Mary 2014 as reported on BBC Monitoring online. 14 Dmitry Gorenburg, ‘Is the Russian Black Sea Fleet coming? Or is it here?’, War on the Rocks, 31 July 2018, https://warontherocks.com/2018/07/is-­a-new-­russian-black-­ sea-fleet-­coming-or-­is-it-­here/. 15 Richard Connolly and Mathieu Boulègue, ‘Russia’s New State Armament Programme, Implications for the Russian Armed Forces and Military Capabilities to 2027’, Russia and Eurasia Programme, Chatham House, May 2018. 16 ‘Timeline of Russian military build-­ up in Crimea’, BBC Monitoring Insight, 30 November 2018, as reported on BBC Monitoring. 17 ‘Black Sea Fleet missile frigates to join Russia’s Mediterranean task force’, TASS, Moscow, 25 August 2018, http://tass.com/defense/1018623. 18 Maksym Bugriy, ‘Russia’s Moves to Gain Dominance in the Black Sea’, Eurasia Daily Monitor, 13/32, 17 February 2016; ‘Ukraine says Russia looted two Crimean oil rigs’, Reuters, 16 December 2015. 19 ‘Russia’s Moves to Gain Dominance in the Black Sea’. 20 ‘Russian tabloid says Ukraine rebels set up “top secret” flotilla, Komsomolskaya Pravda website, Moscow, in Russian, 7 May 2015, as reported on BBC Monitoring. 21 ‘Givi leads DPR forces in practice assault on Mariupol’, Fort Russ News, 27 August 2016, www.fort-­russ.com/2016/08/photosvideo-­givi-dpr-­forces-practice.html; Alex Kokcharov, ‘Ukrainian separatists demonstrate amphibious assault capability’, Jane’s Defence Weekly, 24 August 2016; ‘Donetsk separatists marine capability more likely to be use for raids on Mariupol ports than seizing territory’, Jane’s Country Risk Daily Report, 24 August 2016.

Rebuilding the Ukrainian Navy  181 22 Tetyana Katrychenko’s, ‘The Stolen Sea, what game Russia has conjured up in the Sea of Azov’, Fokus, 3 August 2018 as reported on BBC Monitoring, monitoring.bbc.co.uk/. 23 Marisha Shultz and Bruce Golding, ‘Ukrainian Presdient calls for marshal law as tentions with Russia rise’, New York Post, 29 November 2018. 24 ‘Ukraine’s marines rearmed, trained to repel attacks from the sea’, Narodna Armiya, 21 July 2018, as reported on BBC Monitoring, monitoring.bbc.co.uk/. 25 ‘Ukraine weekly views reason for Russia’s Azov Sea blockade’, Fokus, Kiev, 3 August 2018 as reported on BBC Monitoring, monitoring.bbc.co.uk/. 26 Veronika Melkozerova, ‘Ukraine loses control of Azov Sea to Russia’, Kyiv Post, 15 June 2018. 27 ‘Shantazh Kremlya: Priazovskie Porty v Obmen Na Dneprovskuju Vodu?’, (Blackmail of the Kremlin: Azov ports in exchange for Dnieper water?) Information Resistance, May 31, 2018, http://sprotyv.info/ru/news/kiev/shantazh-­kremlya-priazovskie-­porty-v-­ obmen-na-­dneprovskuyu-vodu. 28 ‘Daily calls Azov Sea “new arena” for Russia-­Ukraine confrontation’, Izvestia website Moscow, 19 July 2018 as reported on BBC Monitoring, monitoring.bbc.co.uk/. 29 ‘Ukraine weekly views reason for Russia’s Azov Sea blockade’. 30 ‘Explainer: Will Ukraine lose Sea of Azov to Russia?’, 20 July 2018, as reported on BBC Monitoring, monitoring.bbc.co.uk/. 31 Olga Rudenko, ‘Russia’s attack in Black Sea, as it happened (EXPLAINER)’, Kyiv Post, 26 November 2018. 32 ‘Captured Ukrainian sailors to face Russian court’, Kyiv Post, 26 November 2018. 33 ‘How much will economy suffer if Azov Sea is lost’, Kyiv Post, 30 November 2018. 34 ‘Citing Russia threat, Ukraine boosts security at ports, power plants’, Reuters, 1 December 2018. 35 Deborah Sanders, ‘Maritime security in the Black Sea: Out with the new, in with the old’, Mediterranean Quarterly, 28/2, 2017, 4–29. 36 UN Office on Drugs and Crime, World Drug Report 2018: ANALYSIS OF DRUG MARKETS Opiates, cocaine, cannabis, synthetic drugs, www.unodc.org/wdr2018/ prelaunch/WDR18_Booklet_3_DRUG_MARKETS.pdf. 37 European Monitoring Centre for Drugs and Drug addiction, ‘Romania Country Drug Report 2018’, www.emcdda.europa.eu/countries/drug-­reports/2018/romania/drug-­markets_en. 38 Andriy Karakuts, Valeriy Kravchenko, Mykola Zamikula, Oleksandra Davymuka, ‘Security Passport of Odesa Oblast: Regional Dimension’, Black Sea Security, 2/32 2018, 56–59. 39 ‘Smuggling probe launched as loose barge with millions of cigarette packs washes ashore near Odesa’, 21 November 2018, https://economics.unian.info/10347030smuggling-­probe-launched-­as-loose-­barge-with-­millions-of-­cigarette-packs-­washesashore-­near-odesa.html. 40 IHS Markit, ‘Ukraine – Navy,’ Jane’s Sentinel Security Assessment – Russia and the CIS, 23 November 2017. 41 ‘UNODC and Ukraine sign Memorandum of Understanding to strengthen port control, facilitate trade’ UN Office on Drugs and Crime, www.unodc.org/unodc/en/ frontpage/2018/January/unodc-­and-ukraine-­sign-memorandum-­of-understanding-­tostrengthen-­port-control–facilitate-­trade.html. 42 For an overview, see Fisheries Cooperation in the Mediterranean and the Black Sea (Strasbourg: European Parliament, 2012), www.europarl.europa.eu/RegData/etudes/ note/join/2012/495833/IPOL-­PECH_NT(2012)495833_EN.pdf. 43 A. Yu. Ivanov and A.A. Kucheiko, ‘Distribution of Oil Spills in Inland Seas Based on SAR Image Analysis: A Comparison between the Black Sea and the Caspian Sea’, International Journal of Remote Sensing, no. 37 (2014): 2101–14. 44 Marina Mityagina and Olga Lavrova, ‘Satellite Surveys of Inner Seas: Oil Pollution in the Black and Caspian Seas,’ Remote Sensing 8, no. 10 (2016), www.mdpi. com/2072–4292/8/10/875.

182  Deborah Sanders 45 Peter Schwartzstein, ‘The Black Sea Is Dying and War Might Push It Over the Edge’, Smithsonian.com, 11 May 2016, www.smithsonianmag.com/science-­nature/black-­seadying-­and-war-­might-push-­it-over-­edge-180959053/. 46 Lyudmila Zaitseva and Frederick Steinhausler, ‘Nuclear Trafficking Issues in the Black Sea Region’, EU Non-­Proliferation Papers, 29, Brussels, 2014. 47 Maia Edilashvili, ‘Georgia: Nuclear Smuggling Cases Raises Concerns’, EUR­ ASIANET.org, 8 July 2016, www.eurasianet.org/node/79576. 48 Eliza Gheorghe, ‘After Crimea: Disarmament, Frozen Conflicts and Illicit Trafficking through Eastern Europe’ (Paper presented at the workshop A Stable Transition to a New Nuclear Order, Berlin, 15–16 December 2014). 49 Ibid. 50 ‘National Progress Report: Ukraine’ (Washington, DC: Nuclear Security Summit, 2016), www.nss2016.org/document-­center-docs/2016/3/31/national-­progress-report-­ukraine. 51 ‘Ukrainian Navy: Naval Strategy 2035’. 52 Ibid. 53 Ihor Vetrov, ‘Ukraine creating mosquito fleet’ Segodnya, Kiev, in Russian, 31 May 2016, as reported in BBC Monitoring online. 54 Speller, Understanding Naval Warfare. 55 Ibid. p. 59. 56 Speller, Understanding Naval Warfare. 57 Ibid. p. 66. 58 Geoffrey Till, Seapower: A guide for the Twenty-­first Century, Abingdon, UK: Routledge, 2004, 66. 59 Ibid. p.63. 60 Parisa Hafezi, Jonathan Saul, Bozorgmehr Sharafedin, ‘How could Iran disrupt Gulf Oil flows?’, Reuters World News, 11 July 2018, www.reuters.com/article/us-­oil-iran-­ explainer/how-­could-iran-­disrupt-gulf-­oil-flows-­idUSKBN1K12MH?il=0; Robert Beckhusen, ‘America’s Mighty A-­10 Warthog vs. Iran’s ‘Swarm’ Boats: Who Wins?’ National Interest, 1 August 2018; Chase Winter, ‘Iran’s military power: What you need to know,’ DW, 6 August 2018, www.dw.com/en/irans-­military-power-­what-you-­ need-to-­know/a-­43756843. 61 ‘Ukrainian Navy looking to acquire 30 new warships by 2010’, Ukrainian Defence Review, 2 April-­ June 2018, 8–9, https://issuu.com/ukrainian_defense_review/docs/ udr_02. 62 For details see The White Book 2015: The Armed Forces of Ukraine, Ministry of Defence of Ukraine, Kyiv. 63 ‘Military Budget for year 2016 is four times greater than in 2014’, Ministry of Defence of Ukraine, Kyiv, 27 February 2016; The Military Balance 2016, International Institute for Strategic Studies, Routledge, 2016, 204: Illia Ponomarenko, ‘Ukraine’s defense budget up by 28% in 2018’, Kyiv Post, 10 December 2017; ‘White Book 2014 The Armed Forces of Ukraine’, Ministry of Defence of Ukraine, Kyiv, 2015; ‘Defense Ministry budget for 2016 to amount for $2.22 billion’, 12 January 2016, Ministry of Defence of Ukraine. www.mil.gov.ua/content/files/whitebook/WB_2014_eng.pdf. Andri Ryzenko, ‘Conceptual Paper: ‘Model and Reformation of the Ukrainian Navy 2015–2020’, Odessa, 25 May 2015 (copy given to author by Captain Ryzenko at the US Navy Conference on Maritime Security in Naples in June 2016). 64 ‘Ukraine’s ministry of defence 2018 budget approved at $3.1bn’, Defence Express, 26 March 2018, https://defence-­ua.com/index.php/en/news/4345-ukraine-­s-ministry-­ofdefense-­2018-budget-­approved-at-­3–1b. 65 ‘Ukraine’s defense budget up by 28% in 2018’. 66 Serhiy Hrabovskyy and Ior Losyev, ‘The Ukrainian Navy: What do we have?’, Den, 28 August 2018, as reported on BBC Monitoring. 67 ‘Centaur class fast assault craft promises new capabilities for the Ukrainian Navy’, Defense Express, Kyiv, 10 December 2018.

Rebuilding the Ukrainian Navy  183 68 ‘Ukraine doubles funding for warship building’, Defence Express Website, Kyiv, 24 November 2017, as reported on BBC Monitoring. 69 ‘Ukrainian Navy Vice Admiral: Kyiv could not find funds for the planned construction of warships’, UAWire, 5 June 2018, https://uawire.org/ukraine-­has-not-­foundmoney-­for-the-­construction-of-­warships. 70 ‘Poroshenko says conflict costing Ukraine $5 million a day’, RFE/RL, 28 September 2015. 71 Ksenia Obukhovska, ‘Ukraine economy 2018’, UNIAN News Agency, 2 January 2018. 72 ‘Economic growth of Ukraine depends on completing pending reforms quickly’, Press Release, The World Bank, 10 April 2018. 73 Neil Buckley, ‘Ukraine’s painful reforms start to bear fruit’, Financial Times, 12 September 2018. 74 ‘Inflation in Ukraine up to 10 per cent in annual terms’, Interfax-­Ukraine, as cited in Kyiv Post, 10 December 2018. 75 Tomas Malmlof, ‘A case study of Russo-­Ukrainian defense industrial cooperation: Russian Dilemmas’, The Journal of Slavic Military Studies, 29:1, 1–22; also see Michael Carpenter, ‘Why no major western defence company with invest in Ukraine’, Atlantic Council, 4 January 2018. 76 Oleg Varfolomeyev, ‘Ukraine’s Defense Industry Slowly Moves Towards Adopting NATO Standards.’ Eurasia Daily Monitor, 15/114, 31 July 2018. 77 ‘Poroshenko sweeps out the traces of money theft of Ukraine’s defense budget’, Luxembourg Herald, 15 February 2018. 78 Askold Krushelnychy, ‘UkrOboronProm chief tout reform plans to tempt US investors’, Kyiv Post, 18 October 2018. 79 Askold Krushelnychy, ‘Ukraine’s Anti-­ Corruption Agency alleges fraud in arms industry’, Foreign Affairs, 21 December 2017. 80 Illia Ponomarenko, ‘Following Outcry in media, Ukraine’s leadership vows to accept US naval aid’, Kyiv Post, 5 April 2018. 81 Valery Yoshishin, ‘Amer­ican “Island” for the Ukrainian fleet: why boats still are not in Ukraine (investigation)’, in Ukrainian, RFE/RL Radio, 30 March 2018, www.radiosvoboda.org/a/schemes/29134047.html. 82 Nikolai Holmov, ‘Ukrainian government and UkrOboronProm deadlocked over debt and production problems at Mykolaiv shipyard’, Eurasia Daily Monitor, 15/2, 9 January 2018. 83 Natalia Datskevych, ‘Poroshenko’s shipyard signs secret contract with navy ahead of its sale to Tigipko’, Kyiv Post, 26 October 2018. 84 Linda Kinstler, ‘The Corrupt Shall Inherit Ukraine, In a country where even the anti-­ corruption prosecutors abuse their power, it’s hard to say who the good guys are’, Foreign Policy, 17 September 2018, https://foreignpolicy.com/2018/09/17/the-­ corrupt-shall-­inherit-ukraine/. 85 Peter Dunai, ‘Ukraine’s Neptun missile conducts successful first launch’, AIN online, 28 August 2018, www.ainonline.com/aviation-­ news/defense/2018–08–28/ukraines-­ neptun-missile-­conducts-successful-­first-launch. 86 ‘Ukrainian cruise missile Neptun profiled’, Narodna Armiya, 12 April 2018 as reported on BBC Monitoring. 87 ‘Ukrainian, Turkish navy commanders discuss cooperation’, UNIAN News Agency, Kiev, 3 September 2018 as reported on BBC Monitoring. 88 https://explorer.usaid.gov/cd/UKR?fiscal_year=2016&measure=Disbursements&impl ementing_agency_id=7 89 ‘CCD Contracts and Technical Briefs’, NAVSEA Combatant Craft Division, 18 August 2015, 30. 90 Reuters, ‘U.S. Military Chief Says Recommends Providing Ukraine With Lethal Defensive Aid’, 27 September 2017; also see Josh Rogin, ‘Trump administration approves lethal arms sales to Ukraine’, Washington Post, 20 December 2017

184  Deborah Sanders [Accessed at www.washingtonpost.com/news/josh-­ rogin/wp/2017/12/20/trump-­ administration-approves-­lethal-arms-­sales-to-­ukraine/?utm_term=.bbebf4190e62.] 91 Julian Borger, ‘US ready to boost arms supplies to Ukraine naval and air forces, envoy says’, Guardian, 1 September 2018. 92 Joe Gould, ‘US lawmakers urge Trump to arm Ukraine, break silence on Russian blockade’, Defense News, 26 November 2018, www.defensenews.com/congress/ 2018/11/26/us-­l awmakers-urge-­t rump-to-­a rm-ukraine-­b reak-silence-­o n-russian-­ blockade/.

13 A comparative analysis of policy and practice within three small navies Croatia, Ireland and Malta Ciarán Lowe Differences in kind or focus? In recent years there has been a growth of interest in revaluating the metrics and heuristics used to classify navies. Discourse has centred on re-­examining and updating established methods of comparison that date from the Cold War, notably including Eric Grove’s nine-­fold typology.1 Writers have questioned the methods employed to rank navies and to establish hierarchies of efficacy and competence. To simplify a complex debate, traditional appraisals suggest that there are large and small navies, and navies in between, but most importantly that navies can be grouped by metrics relating to size and role, and that such groupings provide utility in their construction. Indeed, that logic is suggested by the title of this book, choosing to focus on a group described as ‘small navies’. Much has changed since the two superpower navies and their allies dominated the naval scene. Some navies have advanced, others have declined, and entirely new navies have emerged. The debate has also moved on, with greater recognition now that there may be different ways in which to judge the efficacy and capability of a navy. Paradigm diffusion models are not appropriate. The utility of existing forms of categorisation has been questioned, not least by some of the contributors to this book. Some have argued that it has in fact always been the case that the differences between navies have been principally those of scale not kind.2 Others have engaged with the notion that the creation of hierarchies of this type inherently influences the perception of navies by creating implicit assumptions about the nature of naval capabilities.3 This paper explores the development of three distinct small European navies since the end of the last century. In doing so it will shed light on the range and variety of their activities and highlight areas of comparison and contrast. This is a useful activity in itself, demonstrating that smaller navies can make an important contribution to national and international security and that maritime power is not the sole preserve of larger navies. The chapter also seeks to contribute to the debate by considering the extent to which it is useful to think about small navies as being members of a common group. How much utility does the term ‘small navy’ have, particularly when the conception of naval affairs has expanded beyond appraisals of power projection and kinetic capabilities, where

186  Ciarán Lowe small is seen as an inferior state of being? When a ‘small’ navy is compared to a larger one, differences of scale emerge most prominently. However, it may be the case that such comparisons are possible because large navies possess such a breadth of capabilities that there is always a direct comparison that can be drawn between some element of their tasking and that of a given ‘small’ navy. On the other hand, it may not always be as easy to compare one small navy to another as they may not fulfil similar roles. Counter-­intuitively, small navies may actually share more in common with larger navies than with each other. What does this say about the categorisation of scale if the kinds of differences thought previously to exist primarily between groups, or more recently to be of scale, are in fact manifested within the established groupings? This chapter will examine three self-­described ‘small’ navies, the Irish Naval Service (INS), the Maltese Maritime Squadron and the Croatian Navy. The first two serve as examples of constabulary navies on the fringes of Europe while the third is an example of a defensive flotilla situated inside Europe’s boundaries. Two are based in the Mediterranean while the INS has been engaged in two consecutive humanitarian and maritime security operations in the region since 2015. Two of the examples are states that emerged from the British Commonwealth in the last century while Croatia emerged from the break-­up of the former Yugoslavia and the wider collapse of the Soviet Union. The chapter will examine what their recent developments in areas such as policy, assets and operations illustrate about the utility of categorising these navies as comparable based on relative size.

Malta: operating on the margins The Maltese Maritime Squadron is an example of a Mediterranean small navy that operates right on the forefront of migration issues. Since 2004 it has operated as a distinct unit within the Armed Forces of Malta, with sole responsibility for maritime affairs. Prior to this it had operated as a specialist unit under the overall command of the land-­based forces, operating a small flotilla of mixed inshore vessels made up of donated German, Italian and US vessels. Traditionally, its tasking has been in relation to general patrol duties typical of constabulary navies with a growing interest in the migration issue given its location on the border of mainland Europe. In terms of recent policy development, there have been few examples of traditional ‘top down’ policy directives. Two exceptions to this trend are the 1996 White Paper on the Armed Forces and the Armed Forces Strategy Paper 2016–2026. The first of these, while a textbook example of a Defence White Paper in terms of process and publication, was primarily focused towards increasing professionalisation across the armed forces in areas such as oversight of promotions and ensuring independent technical oversight. The only notable maritime component was a commitment to modernising the elements of the headquarters that dealt with Search and Rescue operations. While envisioned as a ten-­year development plan, it was succeeded after 20 years by the subsequent

A comparative analysis of three small navies  187 strategy plan. While this placed a large emphasis on development in physical terms, it also represented the most definitive outline of the Maltese conception of defence policy. While it contained standard reference to traditional defence responsibilities, it also emphasised the role of the Armed Forces in intelligence gathering. Furthermore, it recognised the importance of participation in international actions for Malta. However, the drafting process of this strategy paper was far less public than its predecessor, it was not promulgated beyond a briefing compiled by the Maritime Squadron’s command.4 However, despite the lack of major policy announcements, in the intervening period it is possible to observe the development of an organic ‘bottom up’ approach to policy building within the Maritime Squadron. This can be evidenced by sources from in-­house operational policy to a series of annual reports to the Prime Minister’s office (and the ministry of home affairs and security post-­2013). These highlight a drive towards the involvement of the Maritime Squadron in engaging internationally with regional and international partners such as the US, the UK, and particularly supra-­national bodies such as NATO (through its partnership for peace initiative) and the EU (through the various FRONTEX-­led operations and especially through EUNAVFOR MED ATALANTA and later SOPHIA) to provide both capacity-­building opportunities for itself, and to also strengthen the region’s security. This was largely in response to Malta’s key strategic position with regards to sea-­based migration, particularly after its accession to the EU in 2004. Another notable policy trend was a commitment to Maltese involvement in regional security operations. The hope was that, by maintaining involvement in these matters, Maltese interests would be considered in their planning and execution.5 This policy was particularly pursued in relation to EU-­led operations in the region where Maltese officers were sent to the headquarters of operations such as ATALANTA and were notably involved in the early planning stages of EUNAVFORMED SOPHIA. Another notable policy direction that emerges from these papers is a commitment to building regional partnerships, particularly between the EU members and their North African neighbours. Much of this work was carried out under the 5 + 5 initiative that grew out of Operation CANALE, a longstanding capacity-­building exercise between Malta and Italy, but which grew to include partners such as Libya, Spain, Tunisia and Morocco.6 Malta also engaged frequently in capacity building with Libya over the period both before and after the civil war and the collapse of the Gaddafi regime.7 These efforts were again designed to promote regional cooperation to help stem the tide of illegal migration. In summary, Malta’s policy development in this period was characterised by being driven by emergent daily operational taskings and has been translated upwards from there. In terms of fixed assets at the turn of the century, the Maritime Squadron base at Hay Wharf had seen no investment projects since the 1980s.8 However, since then it has received a relatively unprecedented number of upgrades. The most prominent of these include the construction of a new headquarters bloc in 2013, alongside increased hangar facilities, and the establishment of a subsidiary base

188  Ciarán Lowe on the Island of Gozo in 2015.9 These upgrades began mainly in response to the need for the expansion of the Squadron due to EU accession, with early examples including the extension of the jetty at Hay Wharf base in 2004. Funding allocation for these projects followed a similar ‘bottom up’ approach to policy, as the Maritime Squadron pursued a strategy of establishing development goals and matching those to (mainly EU) funding opportunities as they became available.10 In terms of the fleet during the same period it too was initially updated in a ‘renewal project’ in 2002, to meet EU expectations.11 The project saw a series of new vessels purchased to replace ageing West German and USCG-­ donated vessels. This began with the purchase of two USCG-­designed Protector class vessels between 2002–2004, followed by the commissioning of the current flagship the Italian Diociotti class P-­61 in 2005. Once again this was partly internationally financed in recognition of Malta’s increasing border control duties.12 Likewise, with the creation of the EU’s external borders fund, Malta was able to purchase four Austral class vessels in 2010 and additional RHIBS in 2010.13 In addition, Malta has received recent donations from their US allies in the form of two Defender class vessels in 2013 and night vision sensors.14 Throughout all of this procurement, the Squadron has prioritised assets relating directly to rapid response and increasingly long-­range patrol capabilities in relation to border security. In terms of future development, the recent acquisition of the former INS vessel, the LÉ Aoife in 2015, has been considered as a trial run of operating a larger OPV while Malta considers the purchase of a similar-­sized vessel in the future.15 Once again, it is clear that the driving force behind procurement is Malta’s specific regional security concerns. Personnel development in recent years was similarly driven by the requirements of Malta’s growing international commitments.16 With the development of the Squadron as a full unit came the rapid expansion of the service from an establishment of 130 to 400 persons. This growth took place largely between 2002 and 2010. With regards to managing the increased training burden, enlisted personnel were trained in conjunction with the Maltese College of Art, Science and Technology (MCAST). Though not as integrated an effort as other navies have constructed, this provided a supplemental pathway to training skilled trades people. Officer training has been traditionally carried out in conjunction with traditional international allies such as the US, the UK, Italy and Germany, with cadets being sent to various naval colleges as the establishment of a national training programme would be too costly. It would seem that, given the tradition of vessel donations to the Squadron, it would be efficient to train relevant personnel within donor states frameworks. In this period there was an expansion of this trend, with cadets attending a wider variety of naval colleges such as those run by the Irish Defence Forces.17 Additionally, international assets such as the US-­led International Military Education and Training programme have been leveraged to provide greater access to such institutions, and to assist with the potential challenges faced with integrating such diverse educational backgrounds within the Maritime Squadron.18 Other notable departures in the period include

A comparative analysis of three small navies  189 the formation of Rapid Deployment Teams to conduct high-­risk interdiction operations. Such operations were considered increasingly likely in the period both at home and abroad. While there has been significant relative growth within the Squadron, the typical issues of retention remain. The pull of the private sector for highly-­ trained technical personnel remains high and the surge of recruitment has set up a ‘timebomb’ of retirement for the Squadron in the coming decade. These concerns are somewhat exacerbated by the lack of ‘depth’ of personnel that is common among small navies, where there is often a worryingly small pool of specialists to draw from. Operationally, the Maritime Squadron has seen little change in terms of its tasks at home. Migration has been a daily concern for the Squadron for over two decades; however, the scale and frequency has increased drastically.19 One notable change to the type of operations engaged in was that a lucrative smuggling route has emerged, in the wake of the Libyan Civil War. With the collapse of the state, oil purchased at drastically lower prices in North Africa has been increasingly smuggled into Europe via the sea routes.20 Meanwhile, international operations have become more prominent as they represent a means of achieving disproportional effect in relation to the security goals of Malta. This has taken the form of capacity-building exercises as well as more direct engagement in security operations with various regional partners. Two of the most prominent engagements have been with the EU’s counter-­ piracy operation ATALANTA in the Gulf of Aden and the EUNAVFORMED operation SOPHIA. The former was in part motivated by Malta’s status as the sixth largest flag state in the world as this necessitated an effort to demonstrate it was taking seriously its duties to safeguard its registered vessels.21 The operation highlights typical solutions to issues of scale sought by smaller navies as it consisted of a series of Vessel Protection Detachments (VPDs). These were deployed on Dutch vessels in the region tasked with protecting shipping.22 Additionally, they were also utilised as security details aboard World Food Program vessels.23 These deployments demonstrate the issues of depth face by small navies. In this case, the VPDs had to be composed of Maritime Squadron elements supplemented by ‘marinised’ personnel from the land-­based C ‘special duties’ Company of the 1st Regiment of the Malta Land Forces.24 This was in part due to the necessity of maintaining a required minimum standing at home in order to ensure daily tasking needs were met by the Squadron. With EUNAVFORMED Operation SOPHIA, the maritime squadron saw engagement from its planning stages, with senior officers deployed to HQ.25 Building on smaller-­scale joint operations with partners such as Italy and Spain in the previous decade, Sophia sought to go beyond dealing with the effects of migration towards actively engaging in mapping and disrupting the models of people smuggling that had emerged in the region. However, even as the operation moved beyond the initial phase and increasing efforts were placed into active SAR operations, there were no defined parameters for disrupting the smuggling operations infrastructures, as these were situated in Libyan territory. For Malta, the operation was envisioned as another in a series of opportunities to

190  Ciarán Lowe not only contribute meaningfully to their common European security goals but also to leverage the capacities of their allies to alleviate the drastically increased burden on the Maritime Squadron.26 Given the trends of increased migration in terms of frequency (post-­2011 the yearly ‘regeneration period’ the Squadron enjoyed in winter months for refit and training had evaporated) and density (increased numbers of ships with increasing numbers of migrants), the necessity for engagement with international partners was only exacerbated.27 In summary, the Maltese Maritime Squadron’s development has been significantly driven by regional factors, chiefly the security concerns arising from its position on the fringes of Europe. This is particularly clear given its tendency to derive policy from emergent practice.

Ireland: advancing beyond stability Unlike the Maltese example, Irish defence policy has seen relatively consistent growth in the significance of the naval element over the last two decades. Traditionally, the Naval Service had been an afterthought in Irish defence development. The fleet was most often comprised of a handful of patrol vessels long past their operational lifespan, in an ill-­defined operational environment beyond ‘fisheries duties’ and ‘state defence’. Investment was sporadic and generally only in the direst of circumstance, most notably in the 1970s when the requirements of entry to the European Economic Community were placed on a service lacking sea-­going patrol vessels, prompting the first major investment since the end of the Second World War.28 However, from the middle of the 1990s, there has been a clear trend towards increased interest in the maritime affairs of the state, particularly the Naval Service’s roles. This growth began somewhat slowly with the state’s first ever White Paper on defence in 2000, making reference to the role of the Naval Service purely in terms of fisheries duties.29 However, 15 years later, the second White Paper on defence presented a broader scope for the Naval Service. This, while primarily a development plan, highlighted the role of the Naval Service in a variety of roles: from smuggling interdiction to public-­private development. It is also notable that the second White Paper was the product of a more transparent development process. This included the drafting of a traditional green paper and a wider engagement with submissions from interested parties. While this is a more ‘top down’ approach than the Maltese example, there was during this period a series of organic developments within the Naval Service itself. These predominantly related to increasing professionalisation and the formalisation of established practices.30 In addition, there were examples of innovation particularly in terms of personnel development. However, the primary focus was to establish a formal recognition of the taskings and relationships between the service as the ‘principal maritime agency of the state’ and its various partners. Examples included the establishment of formal Service Level Agreements and Memoranda of Understanding between the Naval Service and its partners and clients, such as the Coast Guard and the Department of Communications, Marine and Natural

A comparative analysis of three small navies  191 Resources. These agreements related to taskings such as search and rescue, the provision of medical services and safeguarding offshore resources.31 There was also a trend towards an increasingly international outlook in Irish maritime policy. For the Naval Service there was an increased interest in leveraging international allies to develop suitable frameworks to meet its goals. At a defence policy level this is present in the increased emphasis placed on topics such as the EU’s Maritime Security Strategy and NATOs ‘Partnership for Peace’ within the second White Paper. In practical terms, this translated into increased integration of Irish maritime assets in international cooperative endeavours such as joining the Maritime Analysis and Coordination Centre-­Narcotics in 2007 and operationally in the deployment of Irish vessels in the Mediterranean. The Naval Service has also looked abroad for examples of how to conceptualise policy. Given the small scale of the fleet and the myriad tasks it could face on any given patrol assignment, the adoption of concepts such as Operational Swing, a term previously employed by the Royal Navy, referring to the need to hone adaptability across assets fixed or human, is unsurprising. This is additionally relevant given the difficult maritime environment the service operates within.32 While the Naval Service has been stable in terms of topics such as state defence, it is interesting to note that an increased engagement with partners and an expansion of state interest in the maritime domain seems to be creating an expanded concept of mission for the Naval Service. Given the recent instability with its closest neighbour and the uncertain consequences of their impending exit from the EU, it is likely this increased attention will continue.33 The trends of formalisation and professionalisation were also present in recent asset development. With regards to the fleet, with the first White Paper the government committed to an established disposition of no less than an eight-­ship flotilla. This was the first commitment to any particular standing.34 To this end, the Naval Service recently completed the expanded purchase of the Samuel Beckett class of offshore patrol vessels. Initially envisioned a decade earlier as a two-­vessel replacement for the ageing Emer class, the programme was so successful that it subsequently expanded into four vessels as of 2018.35 It is particularly notable that this was not only the first expanded procurement project in the Naval Services history, but was also able to achieve this during a period of significant financial strain in the aftermath of the global financial crisis of 2008 and subsequent years of austerity. The vessels were designed with operational flexibility and the harsh conditions of the Atlantic in mind. Influences from previous vessels such as the Eithne were present, such as the large, open and modular aft deck. There was also a plan in the second White Paper to replace the ageing flag ship (Eithne) with a new ‘Multi Role Vessel’ with potential for functions such as company-­sized transport, increased medical facilities and landing craft functionality.36 Additionally, it seems that international partners have been engaged, with delegations sent to services such as the New Zealand Navy to inspect similar vessels for suitability.37 However, the tender has yet to be formally announced by government, leaving the future of the project uncertain.38 In terms of onshore

192  Ciarán Lowe assets and soft assets, the largest departure for the Naval Service has been the development of the National Maritime College Ireland (NMCI). This came in 2006 and saw the completion of the NMCI building, located adjacent to the naval base at Haulbowline, as part of the first Public Private Partnership involving a third level institution in the state.39 This project, developed alongside the Cork Institute of Technology, was part of attempts to formalise the accreditation of qualifications achieved by Naval Service personnel under the national framework.40 It is notable that the Naval Service has placed a significant value on the provision of in-­house or at least nationalised training as opposed to more significantly leveraging their international partners. When it comes to operational developments, the Naval Service’s trend towards formalisation in recent years can be witnessed again. The implementation of the various agreements created a form of operational legitimacy for traditional operations such as fisheries patrols, smuggling interdiction etc. Alongside these developments, the service embraced its now formal identity as a ‘Constabulary Navy’ set out by the White Paper. The Naval Service chose to highlight this as an indication that its national defence focus should be upon the surveillance and patrol of territorial waters and economic zones. This allowed the framing of daily patrol activities, regardless of mission tasking, as contributory to national defence readiness.41 These activities were dovetailed with parallel efforts to create a unified ‘recognised maritime picture’ and folded into general intelligence and monitoring.42 This increased international outlook within the service can be most prominently demonstrated with the recent landmark international deployments. The first deployment, operation PONTUS, began in 2015. In response to the growing humanitarian crisis in the Mediterranean, a commitment was made that Irish naval assets would become involved in the SAR efforts. To this end, the Irish government agreed a bilateral ‘note verbale’ with the Italian government.43 This would allow Irish naval assets to operate from Italian waters, thereby satisfying the conditions of both UNCLOS and the national legal restrictions on Defence Forces personnel engaging in border enforcement operations.44 Operation PONTUS was conducted as a series of three-­month deployments of single vessels. It was run alongside the ongoing EUNAVFORMED Operation SOPHIA. This would create challenges with regards to information sharing between the Naval Service and SOPHIA elements in the operational space.45 From a Naval Service perspective, Operation PONTUS was an opportunity to engage internationally in a meaningful way towards national interests, in conjunction with its partners. It was also envisioned that it would be a suitable tasking for a service that operated flexible craft with crews suited towards operational swing and high-­tempo daily operations.46 Following a series of deployments, the proof of Operation PONTUS’s success came with the subsequent political decision to join EUNAVFORMED in July 2017.47 Throughout recent operational development for the Naval Service, it appears that they have successfully managed a transition from a period of formalisation into one of growth. Specifically, it must be noted that a significant factor of their

A comparative analysis of three small navies  193 ability to do so has been the flexibility they have developed in response to their expanded operational framework.

Croatia: redefinition in the Adriatic The current Croatian Navy was established in 1991 during the break-­up of Yugoslavia. The first dedicated attempts at formalising policy came after the cessation of hostilities and the creation of the state in 1995. After this came the question of how the new Navy would adapt the remnants of the Soviet Era Yugoslav fleet to the emergent peacetime needs of the Croatian state. The fleet itself was comprised of 36 vessels seized during the break-­up of the former Yugoslavia. These vessels represented a quarter of the former fleet and were focused on coastal defence, with a handful of missile boats supported by a larger number of small patrol vessels.48 During the fighting in the early 1990s, the Navy mostly engaged in inshore activities including transport duties and repelling their former sister vessels that had been seized by other forces in the conflict.49 For the remainder of the decade, they were practically engaged in developing the relevant operational and administrative practices that could not be addressed in wartime.50 From a policy perspective, development came in the form of a series of ‘Strategic Defence Reviews’ (SDR) and an ongoing development plan. With Croatia’s entry into NATO’s PFP and membership access program between 2000 and 2002, the influence of international partners would quickly become apparent. A decade after beginning formalisation attempts, the 2005 SDR was published to address the strategic context of Croatia with a structured development plan.51 Following this came the Croatian Armed Forces Long Term Development Plan 2006–2015. The plan was mainly focused on land assets with the navy scheduled to receive a small number of new patrol vessels, and an operational reduction of personnel.52 It also contained a direction to establish a coastguard, leaving the peacetime tasking of the Navy to include protection of the state interests at sea beyond national defence, developing capabilities for combined operations at home or abroad with established PSOs and general maintenance of good order in territorial waters.53 With NATO accession in 2009, the 2013 SDR and Long Term Development Plan 2015–2024 reasserted the priority for greater integration among Croatian forces. Interoperability with NATO counterparts was particularly emphasised.54 The navy was to ensure capability for engaging surface targets, mine and counter-­mine operations, command and control in complex environments and networking.55 However, it is notable prioritisation of new vessels was given to the coastguard.56 While the need for clear defence policy was recognised early in the Croatian Navy’s existence, it was nearly a decade before the first significant policies emerged. Notably, these were heavily influenced by a desire for integration, and indeed active participation in international security alliances. Finally, it must not be overlooked that these modernisation plans were set against the backdrop of declining defence budgets, with spending falling to 1.3 per cent of GDP by 2015.57

194  Ciarán Lowe With regards to the development of assets in this period, two decades of budgetary restrictions have had a significant impact on the Croatian Navy. These restrictions have resulted in little change in the flotilla since the formation of the state. Many of the vessels still date from the period when the Yugoslavian navy operated them. The core of the flotilla are the missile boats, with the two Kralj class vessels being the largest. The Kralj Petar Krešimir IV was captured while still in production in 1991, while the Kralj Dmitar Zvonimir was commissioned in 2002. They are operating alongside the last of the vessels they were meant to replace. The Končar class Šibenik is another seized vessel that has been modernised several times to try to extend its lifespan. Additionally, there are the two Helsinki class vessels, the Vukovar and the Dubrovnik. These were purchased for a token price, as part of an offset deal relating to a purchase of vehicles from the Finnish in 2008.58 These vessels were similar in capability to their existing counterparts. In addition to missile boats, the Croatian Navy also operated a small detachment of four Mirna-­class patrol boats. Nearing four decades old, they were slated to finally be retired and replaced with new inshore patrol vessels under the control of the coastguard.59 There is also a limited mine-­hunting component to the Croatian Navy. The Korčula class minesweeper is the sole vessel currently in operation, however Croatia was expected to take delivery of two Kulmbach class minesweepers from Germany in 2017.60 These vessels were set to be decommissioned but were instead donated. Finally, the flotilla is supported by a small fleet of landing craft and support vessels, including diving support launches and a cargo vessel. Overall, there seems to have been reluctance through much of the period to expand the flotilla outside of life-­extending upgrades. However, since 2015, the navy has embarked upon a new plan for the modernisation of the fleet. It envisioned that by 2020 there would be complete overhauls of the radar and information systems, particularly to allow integration with NATO systems, a refurbishment of existing missile systems, the launch of the new patrol boats and the acquisition of the new mine-­hunting vessels.61 Furthermore, there were plans to purchase an OPV second hand by 2024, to bolster the reach of the navy. As of December 2018, the first new patrol vessel has been received with a potential option for up to four more.62 From a fleet perspective, Croatia appears to have taken the first step on a major renewal. In terms of international maritime operations, since 2009 Croatia has contributed actively towards Operation ATALANTA. Like Malta, Croatia has contributed VPDs assigned to protect World Food Organisation shipments.63 Over the last decade it has successfully deployed several of these teams to ATALANTA and has received numerous commendations for their efforts.64 It seems that, similar to the other examples of small navies in this period, Croatia has managed to achieve a notable contribution to a large international maritime partnership despite its relative lack of fixed assets. Outside of ATALANTA there has been some recent involvement of the Croatian Navy in other international operations. Following participation in a series of NATO-­ led drills such as

A comparative analysis of three small navies  195 Trident Juncture in 2015, the Croatian Navy announced its participation in the NATO-­led Operation Sea Guardian in June 2018. The Croatian contribution consisted of a 30-day deployment of a patrol vessel in the Adriatic region, as part of the larger operation designed to increase the scope of the recognised maritime picture across the central Mediterranean. The operation also provides shared situational information to other security operations in the area such as Operation SOPHIA.65 Once again this suggests that common national security concerns are prompting increased international involvement for these navies.

Conclusion Upon review, it is clear that there are significant differences in the character of the three examples across their contemporary policy and composition. The greatest area of similarity is that all of the examples have demonstrated a recent commitment to increased engagement in European security issues. It is clear that all three face a set of constraints common to ‘small navies,’ such as shortages in personnel, limited fleets and a lack of access to the kinds of economies of scale that larger navies enjoy when it comes to asset procurement. Adaptability has therefore become a vital common virtue. However, while this can offset these issues, it is important to be wary that qualities such as the INS’s ‘can do’ attitude does not become ‘make do’, as adaptability has its practical limitations. Furthermore, it seems that the largest factor driving the development of these navies is their ‘daily’ tasking, rather than any long-­term plan or vision. All three examples illustrate that development is driven by these varied tasks; whether it be the economic patrol duties of the INS or the border security duties of the Maltese Maritime Squadron. This has also remained true for Croatia, a navy that is undergoing a shift from one traditional primary tasking of national defence, inherited from the former Yugoslav navy, towards a more flexible set of responsibilities, in conjunction with a recently prioritised coastguard. Additionally, given Croatia’s recent international efforts towards a common goal of contributing to increased maritime security, it is likely they will exhibit more similarities in their handling of maritime security operations going forward. It must also be noted that, while for Malta the issue of good order at sea in the southern Mediterranean is inherently of national interest, the conditions and context of the operations undertaken by the other examples currently represent a departure to their ‘daily tasking’ in the Atlantic and the Adriatic. It is interesting to note that small navies are somewhat by definition the most limited in their resources, therefore the natural prioritisations of each state may lead to a more substantial set of differences between small navies, who must choose which roles to fill and which to leave to others. This is in contrast to their larger counterparts who attempt to cover more roles, often with constrained resources, and in that respect may share many problems common to their smaller counterparts. Thus, the INS may find that in some respects it has less in common with the Croatian Navy than it does with elements of the US, British or French navies. Finally, it is worth noting that, among two of the examples, the Irish and

196  Ciarán Lowe the Maltese, there has been a distinct trend towards a more postmodern conception of maritime strategy. In both cases, an emphasis has been placed on broadening the engagement of the organisation to highlight areas of utility beyond traditional duties. This is clearly evident for the INS in its formalisation of its services to the state and other bodies and its partnership with educational bodies. Meanwhile, Malta has engaged in some similar behaviours such as its relationship with MCAST. Indeed, both organisations have demonstrated an increased interest, and this is true of Croatia as well, in engaging in international operations, even if simply in an advisory role to ensure that they can represent the states’ broader political interests in the domain of maritime security.

Notes  1 Eric Grove, The Future of Sea Power (Annapolis, MD. Naval Institute Press, 1990) pp. 26–21.   2 Geoffrey Till, ‘Are Small Navies Different’ in Small Navies Strategy and Policy for Small Navies in War and Peace, ed. Mulqueen et al. (London: Ashgate, 2014), 31.   3 Basil Germond, ‘Small Navies in Perspective: Deconstructing the Hierarchy of Naval Forces’ in Small Navies, ed. Mulqueen et al., 49.   4 Lieutenant Colonel (Ret.) Andrew Mellia. Interview by Ciarán Lowe. Formal interview. Valleta, 22 June 2018.  5 Ibid.   6 Lieutenant Colonel (Ret.) Martin Cauchi Inglott. Interview by Ciarán Lowe. Formal interview. Valleta, 30 August 2018.  7 Ibid.  8 Ibid.   9 Lieutenant Colonel (Ret.) Andrew Mellia. Interview by Ciarán Lowe. Formal interview. Valleta, 22 June 2018. 10 Ibid. 11 Times of Malta (Valetta, Malta), 11 April 2004. 12 Malta Independant (Valetta, Malta), 5 November 2005. 13 Captain Etienne Scicluna, ‘Border Control, the Way Ahead’ On Parade, October 2012. 14 Armed Forces Malta. Press Release PR2797. Valetta, Malta: Armed Forces of Malta, 2012. www.gov.mt/en/Government/Press%20Releases/Pages/2012/December/21/pr2797. aspx. 15 RTÉ, ‘Active Discussions’ over LÉ Aoife Transfer to Malta’ 21 February 2015. www. rte.ie/news/2015/0221/681854-le-­aoife/. 16 Lieutenant Colonel (Ret.) Andrew Mellia. Interview by Ciarán Lowe. Formal interview. Valleta, 22 June 2018. 17 Ibid. 18 Lieutenant Colonel (Ret.) Martin Cauchi Inglott. Interview by Ciarán Lowe. Formal interview. Valleta, 30 August 2018. 19 Government of Malta, Annual Report of Government Departments 2008. Valetta: Gov. of Malta, 2008. 20 Lieutenant Colonel (Ret.) Martin Cauchi Inglott. Interview by Ciarán Lowe. Formal interview. Valleta, 30 August 2018. 21 Ibid. 22 EUNAVFOR, ‘Maltese Boarding Team Maintain their Skills Aboard E.U. Naval Force Warship HNLMS De Zeven Provinciën’, accessed 20 January 2019. http:// eunavfor.eu/maltese-­boarding-team-­maintain-their-­skills-aboard-­eu-naval-­forcewarship-­hnlms-de-­zeven-provincien/.

A comparative analysis of three small navies  197 23 EUNAVFOR, ‘Malta’s First EU NAVFOR Operational Mission Protects World Food Programme (WFP) Ship Mustafa-­H’, accessed 20 January 2019. http://eunavfor.eu/ maltas-­first-eu-­navfor-operational-­mission-protects-­world-food-­programme-wfp-­shipmustafa-­h/. 24 Lieutenant Colonel (Ret.) Wallace Camilleri. Interview by Ciarán Lowe. Formal interview. Valleta, 6 October 2018. 25 Lieutenant Colonel (Ret.) Andrew Mellia. Interview by Ciarán Lowe. Formal interview. Valleta, 22 June 2018. 26 Ibid. 27 Lieutenant Colonel (Ret.) Martin Cauchi Inglott. Interview by Ciarán Lowe. Formal interview. Valleta, 30 August 2018. 28 Pádrhraic Ó Confhaola. ‘The Naval Forces of the Irish State, 1922–1977’ (PhD thesis, Maynooth University, 2009), 144. 29 Department of Defence Ireland, White Paper on Defence. Dublin, Ireland: Dept. of Def., 2000, 45. 30 Commodore (Ret.) Frank Lynch. Interview by Ciarán Lowe. Formal interview. Dublin, 22 October 2017. 31 Defence Forces Ireland, Department Of Defence and Defence Forces Annual Report 2015. Dublin, Ireland: D.F.I., 2015, 28. 32 Department of Defence Ireland, White Paper on Defence. Dublin, Ireland: Dept. of Def., 2015, 39. 33 Dara Doyle, ‘Irish “Warship” Seizes Northern Irish Trawlers, DUP Says’, Bloomberg, 28 February 2019. www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2019–02–28/irish-­ warshipseizes-­northern-irish-­trawlers-dup-­says. 34 Department of Defence Ireland, White Paper on Defence. Dublin, Ireland: Dept. of Def., 2000, 46. 35 Department of Defence, The White Paper on Defence: Review of Implementation. Dublin: Dept. of Def., 2005, 30. 36 Irish Examiner (Dublin, Ireland), 12 October 2017. 37 Ibid. 38 Minister for Defence (Kehoe, P.), ‘Written Answers, Naval Services Vessels’, Dáil Éireann Debate Vol. 972 No. 8, 3 October 2018. 39 National Maritime College of Ireland, ‘Minister Mary Hanafin opens National Maritime College of Ireland in Ringaskiddy, Co. Cork’, accessed 6 January 2019. www. nmci.ie/index.cfm/page/newsarchive/id/6. 40 Irish Examiner (Dublin, Ireland), 18 June 2010. 41 Irish Naval Service, Strategy Statement (Dublin: D.F.I., 2003), 7. 42 Commodore Hugh Tully. Interview by Ciarán Lowe. Formal interview. Cork, 10 April 2017, 6. 43 Commodore Hugh Tully. Interview by Ciarán Lowe. Formal interview. Cork, 10 April 2017, 2. 44 Cdr. Pat Burke, ‘Troubled waters’. In Defence Forces Review 2016, edited by Col. D Dignam Prof. E. O’Halpin, Dr. I. Speller (Kildare, DFI, 2016). 45 Irish Times (Dublin, Ireland), 10 July 2017. 46 Commodore Hugh Tully. Interview by Ciarán Lowe. Formal interview. Cork, 10 April 2017, 2. 47 Irish Times (Dublin, Ireland), 13 July 2017. 48 Mary Reljanović, ‘Croatian Navy in Defence of the Adriatic’, Hrvatski-­Vojnik, December 2013. 49 Ibid. 50 GlobalSecurity.org, ‘Croatia-­Navy-Modernization’, accessed 8 January 2019. www. globalsecurity.org/military/world/europe/hr-­navy-modernization.htm.

198  Ciarán Lowe 51 Ministry of Defence of the Republic of Croatia, Strategic Defence Review 2005. Zagreb: M.O.D., 2005. www.defesa.gov.br/projetosweb/livrobranco/arquivos/pdf/ Croacia%202005.pdf. 52 Nathan M. Polak, Ryan C. Henderson, Nathan Garret. ‘NATO membership for Albania and Croatia: military modernization, geo-­strategic opportunities and force projection’, The Journal of Slavic Military Studies, 22, no. 4 (2009): 502–14, 504. 53 Ministry of Defence of the Republic of Croatia, Strategic Defence Review 2005. Zagreb: M.O.D. 2005. www.defesa.gov.br/projetosweb/livrobranco/arquivos/pdf/ Croacia%202005.pdf. 54 Ministry of Defence of the Republic of Croatia. The Croatian Armed Forces Long Term Development Plan 2015–2024. Zagreb: M.O.D., 2015. www.morh.hr/images/ stories/morh_2015/pdf/dpr/ltdp_en_2015.pdf, 32. 55 Ibid., 71. 56 Ministry of Defence of the Republic of Croatia, Strategic Defence Review 2013. Zagreb: M.O.D., 2013. www.morh.hr/images/stories/morh_2014/pdf/strategic_defence_ review_2013.pdf, 25. 57 International Institute for Strategic Studies, ‘(2015) Chapter Two: Comparative defence statistics’, The Military Balance 115 (2015):21–28. Accessed 28 January 2019. www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/04597222.2015.996348, 24. 58 Igor Tabek, ‘2 Finnish Helsinki Class FACs to Croatia’ Defense Industry Daily, 17 May 2008). www.defenseindustrydaily.com/2-Finnish-­Helsinki-Class-­FACs-to-­ Croatia-05017/. 59 Ministry of Defence of the Republic of Croatia, ‘“Brodosplit” lays the keel for in-­ shore patrol vessels’ Zagreb: M.O.D., 2015. www.morh.hr/en/news/press-­ releases/12102-%E2%80%9Cbrodosplit%E2%80%9C-lays-­the-keel-­for-in-­shorepatrol-­vessels.html. 60 Denis Krnic, ‘Split shipyard offers best deal for five ships for the navy’. Slobod na Dalmacija (Split, 2014), 8 May 2014. www.slobodnadalmacija.hr/dalmacija/split/ clanak/id/234155/splitski-­skver-dao-­najbolju-ponudu-­za-pet-­brodova-hrm-­a. 61 Ministry of Defence of the Republic of Croatia. the Croatian Armed Forces long term development plan 2015–2024. Zagreb: M.O.D., 2015. www.morh.hr/images/stories/ morh_2015/pdf/dpr/ltdp_en_2015.pdf, 72–73. 62 Naval Today, ‘Croatia takes delivery of first locally-­built inshore patrol vessel “Omiš” ’. Naval Today, 7 December 2018. https://navaltoday.com/2018/12/07/croatia­takes-delivery-­of-first-­locally-built-­inshore-patrol-­vessel-omis/. 63 EUNAVFOR Somalia, ‘Croatia takes Over E.U. Naval Force World Food Programme Vessel Protection Duties from Serbia’, accessed 21 January 2019. http://eunavfor.eu/ croatia-­takes-over-­eu-naval-­force-world-­food-programme-­vessel-protection-­dutiesfrom-­serbia/. 64 EUNAVFOR Somalia, ‘Croatian maritime protection team awarded E.U. Operation Atalanta Medal for keeping W.F.P. vessel MSM Douro safe from pirates off coast of Somalia’, accessed 23 January 2019. http://eunavfor.eu/croatian-­maritime-protection-­ team-awarded-­eu-operation-­atalanta-medal-­for-keeping-­wfp-vessel-­msm-douro-­safefrom-­pirates-off-­coast-of-­somalia/. 65 Naval Today, ‘Croatian Navy to Deploy Ship to NATO Mission for First Time Ever’. Naval Today, 28 June 2018. https://navaltoday.com/2018/06/28/croatian-­ navy-to-­ deploy-ship-­to-nato-­mission-for-­first-time-­ever/.

14 Conclusion Robert McCabe, Deborah Sanders and Ian Speller

This book set out to examine the role of small navies within European security and was motivated by a desire to respond to the relative lack of discourse and debate on this topic. It sought to explore the idea of small navies within this context and also to look at examples of what small navies do in practice. Different contributors have defined small navies in slightly different ways, but all adhere broadly to the notion that these are navies with limited means and limited ambitions. It is apparent, however, that this does not mean that they are of limited importance. These are not navies of no account.1 As this book makes clear, small navies, which represent the majority of European navies, have important roles to play in support of national and international policy. These include deterrence and self-­defence, protection of resources and maintenance of good order within the EEZ, interdiction of drugs, arms or illegal migrants and support for national foreign policy and diplomacy. They also include contributions to EU or NATO collective defence, where sometimes the symbolic element can be as important as the physical contribution, although the latter should not be overlooked when even limited contributions can be the difference between success and failure. Moreover, small navies can play a key part in support of multi-­national efforts to protect the maritime commons, and to participate in capacity and capability building exercises designed to help other small navies and maritime security sectors. Large navies need the support of their smaller counterparts to police and protect an environment that covers two-­ thirds of the planet, and also to meet more traditional challenges, a point that has been emphasised strongly in recent US pronouncements.2 It is apparent that small navies do not all follow the same path, in terms of roles, missions or force structure, as their larger counterparts. It would be surprising if they did. Intelligent planning for navies, big or small, must reject the notion that there is a particular model that must be adopted. Rational defence policy does not adopt a ‘one-­size-fits-­all’ approach but adapts to circumstances and reflects available resources, local conditions and likely tasks. The foregoing chapters identify areas of commonality between some of the navies studied, and also areas of difference. Some focus on alliance roles, others place a greater emphasis on national responsibilities, most try to balance the two. Many of these navies are now deeply concerned about the re-­emergence of an apparent threat

200  Robert McCabe et al. from Russia and are concerned about the exploitation of hybrid approaches that may challenge them below the response threshold of their friends and allies. Others remain geographically remote from the immediate threat and have focused more on constabulary duties within the EEZ and on contributions towards multinational maritime security missions. Indeed, almost all of the navies discussed in this book have placed some degree of emphasis on the latter. The ability to contribute to such missions offers them a way to act as good global citizens, to contribute to NATO or EU goals and also, importantly, to demonstrate their relevance to a public that does not generally understand the need for a navy. They also allow those navies to make a meaningful contribution to security at and from the sea, promoting and protecting national security, the security of Europe and the stability of a globalised world that depends upon the safe and free use of the seas. The Russian Navy, not a small navy by the broad metrics adopted here, figures prominently in a number of chapters as the most dangerous potential adversary. That navy may still be a shadow of its Soviet ancestor, but Russian joint forces have the potential to pose a range of serious challenges to sea control in both the Baltic and the Black Sea and have conducted successful conventional, hybrid and ‘grey-­zone’ operations against their neighbours in the latter. Naval assets have also provided a key tool of Russian power projection and diplomacy in the Mediterranean, where the dubious military value of the aircraft carrier Admiral Kuznetzov should not disguise the diplomatic significance of its deployments to Syria. Sea-­launched cruise missile strikes may provide a more practical example of the growing reach inland of the Russian Navy. When considered in terms of traditional maritime strategy and its largest potential enemy, the Russian Navy is rather ‘small’. The strategies that it might adopt in any confrontation with the West will surely reflect this. The focus on anti-­access/area-­ denial in the Baltic could be represented as a strategy of the weak, the natural successor to the defensive approach of the old Soviet New School.3 The lessons from Georgia and Ukraine, and the opinions expressed by many authors here, suggest something more dangerous, where hybrid approaches seek to exploit conventional and unconventional means to generate leverage. Geography and politics dictate that small navies will be in the forefront of any response. Given the nature of the threat, one suspects that policy makers should read Kautilya’s ‘Arthashastra’, for its insight into the ruthless exploitation of all tools of statecraft, in addition to consulting the classics of naval strategy.4 This book is based on the idea that it is not necessary to believe that ‘small navies’ represent a distinct sub-­group within maritime strategy, with shared characteristics (other than mere size) that differentiate them from larger navies, to recognise that they are still worthy of study. The reason for this enquiry is the simple reality than most navies are small, that despite this (or maybe even because of it) they fulfil a variety of interesting and important roles and that it is not possible to understand naval strategy, maritime security or indeed European security as a whole, unless you also understand the roles played by small navies. In many respects this book has only touched the surface of the topic. If it encourages others

Conclusion  201 to dig a little deeper, and to address these topics in more detail, it will have served a useful purpose.

Notes 1 Michael Mulqueen, Deborah Sanders, Ian Speller (eds.), Small Navies. Strategy and Policy for Small Navies in War and Peace, (Farnham: Ashgate, 2014) p. 1. 2 For example, see Dept of the Navy, CS21. A Cooperative Strategy for 21st Century Seapower, (March 2015). 3 Geoffrey Till, Seapower: A Guide for the 21st Century, 4th edn (Abingdon, UK: Routledge, 2018) pp. 94–5. Also see Ian Speller, Understanding Naval Warfare, 2nd edn (London: Routledge, 2018) p. 66. 4 See Roger Boesche, The First Political Realist. Kautilya and His Arthashastra, (Lanham, Ma: Lexingtom Books, 2002).

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212  Select bibliography IHS Market. ‘Ukraine – Navy’. Jane’s Sentinel Security Assessment – Russia and the CIS, 23 November 2017. International Institute for Strategic Studies (IISS). The Military Balance 2015. London: Routledge, 2015. IISS. The Military Balance 2016. London: Routledge, 2016. IISS. The Military Balance 2017. London: Routledge, 2017. IISS. The Military Balance 2019. London: Routledge, 2019. Ilic, Matko. ‘Croatia V. Slovenia: The Defiled Proceedings’. Arbitration Law Review 9, no. 1 (2017): 347–382. Information Resistance. ‘Shantazh Kremlya: Priazovskie Porty v Obmen Na Dneprovskuju Vodu?’ (Blackmail of the Kremlin: Azov ports in exchange for Dnieper water?) Information Resistance, 31 May 2018. Irish Central. ‘Drones to aid Ireland’s war on illegal fishing and pollution’. www.irishcentral.com/news/irishvoice/drones-­ireland-drugs-­sea. Irish Naval Service. Strategy Statement. Dublin: DFI, 2003. The Irish Examiner. ‘Navy ‘going backwards’ as it faces personnel crisis’. www.irish examiner.com/ireland/navy-­going-backwards-­as-it-­faces-personnel-­crisis-469220.html. Ishchenko, Sergey. ‘Fortress Crimea. How Russia’s defensive arrangements on the peninsula look’. Svpressa.ru, 18 March 2015. Ivanov, A. Yu. and A.A. Kucheiko, ‘Distribution of Oil Spills in Inland Seas Based on SAR Image Analysis: A Comparison between the Black Sea and the Caspian Sea’. International Journal of Remote Sensing, no. 37 (2014): 2101–2114. Izamis, Andreas. ‘National Guard uneasy under fire’. In Cyprus, 4 June 2017. Izvestia. ‘Daily calls Azov Sea ‘new arena’ for Russia-­Ukraine confrontation’. Izvestia, 19 July 2018.

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214  Select bibliography Krajewski, P. ‘Tough Choices for Small Navies’. CIMSEC, 31 January 2013. Kramer, Rob. ‘Spagaat.’ C-­ZSK Column, Intranet Ministerie van Defensie, 19 December 2017. Kramer, Franklin D. and Hans Binnendijk. ‘Meeting the Russian conventional challenge: Effective deterrence by prompt reinforcement’. Atlantic Council: Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security, 2018. Kraska, James, and Raul Pedrozo. International Maritime Security Law. Leiden: Brill, 2013. Krastev, Ivan, After Europe. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2017. Krause, Joachim and Sebastian Bruns. Routledge Handbook of Naval Strategy and Security. London; New York: Routledge, 2016. Krause, Joachim. ‘The Times They are a Changin’ – Fundamental Structural Change in International Relations as a Challenge for Germany and Europe’. SIRIUS, no. 1 (2017): 3–23. Kristiansen, Tom, and John Andreas Olsen (eds.). War Studies: Perspectives from the Baltic and Nordic War Colleges. Oslo: Institut for forsvarsstudier, 2007. Kristensen, Kristian Søby and Jon Rahbek-­Clemmensen (eds.). Greenland and the International Politics of a Changing Arctic. London: Routledge, 2017. Krnic, Denis. ‘Split shipyard offers best deal for five ships for the navy’. Slobod na Dalmacija, 8 May 2014. Krushelnychy, Askold. ‘UkrOboronProm chief tout reform plans to tempt US investors’. Kyiv Post, 18 October 2018. Krushelnychy, Askold. ‘Ukraine’s Anti-­Corruption Agency alleges fraud in arms industry’. Foreign Affairs, 21 December 2017. Kuijper, D.J. ‘Grondslagen van het Maritieme Optreden. Een vernieuwende, binationale maritieme doctrine’. Militaire Spectator 182, no. 6 (June 2013): 281–87. Kungl. Örlogsmannasällskapet. En marin för Sverige (A Navy for Sweden). Stockholm: 2018: 5–6. Kuzin, Vladimir and Sergei Chernyavskii. ‘Russian Reactions to Reagan’s “Maritime Strategy” ’. Journal of Strategic Studies 28, no. 2 (2005): 429–439. Kvam, Ina Holst-­Pedersen. ‘“Strategic Deterrence” in the North: Implications of Russian Maritime Defence Planning and Seapower to Norwegian Maritime Strategy’. (MA Thesis, Universitetet i Bergen, 2018). Kyiv Post. ‘Captured Ukrainian sailors to face Russian court’. Kyiv Post, 26 November 2018. Kyiv Post. ‘How much will economy suffer if Azov Sea is lost’. Kyiv Post, 30 November 2018. Kyiv Post. ‘Inflation in Ukraine up to 10 per cent in annual terms’. Interfax-­Ukraine, as cited in Kyiv Post, 10 December 2018.

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216  Select bibliography Mastriano, Douglas (ed.). Project 1721: A U.S. Army War College Assessment on Russian Strategy in Eastern Europe and Recommendations on How to Leverage Landpower to Maintain the Peace. Pennsylvania: US Army War College Press, 2017. Mathiason, Nick, Victoria Parsons and Ted Jeory. ‘Frontex resource limitations put agency in straitjacket’. EU Observer, 15 September 2015. McCabe, Robert. Modern Maritime Piracy: Genesis, Evolution and Responses. London: Routledge, 2018. McDermott, Roger N. and Tor Bukkvoll. ‘Russia in the Precision-­Strike Regime: Military Theory, Procurement and Operational Impact’. FFI Rapport. Kjeller: Forsvarets Forskningsinstitutt, 2017. McGrath, Bryan. ‘NATO at Sea: Trends in Allied Naval Firepower’. Amer­ican Enterprise Institute for Public Policy Research, no. 3 (September 2013). MacMahon, J., S. MacCurtain and C. Harnett. ‘Workplace Climate in the Defence Forces Phase 2: Results of the Focus Group Research’. www.defence.ie/system/files/media/ file-­uploads/2017–12/workplace-­climate-defence-­forces.pdf. Melkozerova, Veronika. ‘Ukraine loses control of Azov Sea to Russia’. Kyiv Post, 15 June 2018. Metrick, Andrew and Kathleen H Hicks. Contested Seas: Maritime Domain Awareness in Northern Europe. Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2018. Ministerio de Defensa, Secretaría General Técnica. Defense White Paper 2000. Madrid: Centro de Publicaciones, 2000. Minister for Defence (Kehoe, P.). ‘Written answers, naval services vessels’. Dáil Éireann Debate 972 no. 8 (3 October 2018). Ministry of Defence, Denmark. ‘Aftale på Forsvarsområdet 2013–2017’, 2012. www. fmn.dk/videnom/Documents/Aftale_paa_forsvarsomraadet_2013–2017a.pdf. Ministry of Defence, Denmark. ‘Danish Defence, Enhanced Forward Presence, 2018.’ www2.forsvaret.dk/viden-­om/udland/nato1/Pages/EnhancedForwardPresence.aspx. Ministry of Defence, Netherlands. ‘Kerngegevens Defensie. Feiten en cijfers’. Ministerie van Defensie. www.defensie.nl/overdefensie/inhoud/feiten-­en-cijfers. Ministry of Defence, Søværnets Historie, 2016, www2.forsvaret.dk/viden-­om/historie/ sovarnets/Pages/Soevaernetshistorie2.aspx. Ministry of Defence, Netherlands. ‘Antwoorden op schriftelijke vragen over Zr.Ms. Karel Doorman’. Ministerie van Defensie, 2016. Ministry of Defence of the Republic of Croatia. ‘ “Brodosplit” lays the keel for in-­shore patrol vessels’. Zagreb: MOD. 2015. Ministry of Defence of the Republic of Croatia. Strategic defence review 2005. Zagreb: MOD. 2005. Ministry of Defence of the Republic of Croatia. Strategic defence review 2013. Zagreb: MOD. 2013. Ministry of Defence of the Republic of Croatia. The Croatian Armed Forces long term Development plan 2015–2024. Zagreb: MOD. 2015. Ministry of Defence of Ukraine. The White Book 2015: The Armed Forces of Ukraine. Kyiv: Ministry of Defence of Ukraine, 2016. Ministry of Defence of Ukraine. Ukrainian Navy: Naval Strategy 2035. Kyiv: Ministry of Defence of Ukraine, November 2018. Mitchell, Paul T. ‘Small navies and network-­centric warfare: Is there a role’. Naval War College Review no. 2 (2003): 83–99. Mitchell, Paul T. ‘International Anarchy and Military Cooperation’. The Adelphi Papers 46, no. 385 (2006): 45–52.

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218  Select bibliography Naval Today. ‘Dutch naval ships will not take part in Atalanta in 2018’. Naval Today, 9 March 2018. Naval Today. ‘Croatian Navy to Deploy Ship to NATO Mission for First Time Ever’. Naval Today, 28 June 2018. Naval Today. ‘Croatia takes delivery of first locally-­built inshore patrol vessel “Omiš” ’. Naval Today, 7 December 2018. Narodna Armiya. ‘Ukraine’s marines rearmed, trained to repel attacks from the sea’. Narodna Armiya, 21 July 2018. Narodna Armiya. ‘Ukrainian cruise missile Neptun profiled’. Narodna Armiya, 12 April 2018. National Defence and the Canadian Armed Forces. ‘ARCHIVED – Operation MOBILE’. www.forces.gc.ca/en/operations-­abroad-past/op-­mobile.page. National Security Bureau Poland. ‘Poland’s Strategic Concept of Maritime Security’. Warsaw: National Security Bureau, 2017. NAVSEA. ‘CCD Contracts and Technical Briefs’. NAVSEA Combatant Craft Division, 18 August 2015. Neumann, Iver B. and Sieglinde Gstöhl. ‘Lilliputians in Gulliver’s World: Small States in International Relations’. University of Iceland Centre for Small State Studies Working Paper 1, (2004): 1–25. New Zealand Ministry of Defence. Report of the Review of the Safety and Functionality of HMNZS Canterbury. https://defence.govt.nz/assets/Uploads/independent-­reviewsafety-­hmnzs-canterbury.pdf. Niemann, Arne, and Johanna Speyer. ‘A Neofunctionalist Perspective on the “European Refugee Crisis”: The Case of the European Border and Coast Guard’. Journal of Common Market Studies 56, no. 1 (2018): 23–43. Nooy, Gert de (ed.). The Role of European Naval Forces after the Cold War. The Hague: Kluwer Law International, 1996. Norberg, Johan. Training for War. Russia’s Strategic-­level Military Exercises 2009–2017. Stockholm: Swedish Defence Research Agency, 2018. Nørby, Søren (ed.). Fra Kold Krig til internationalt engagement. Helsinge: Steel & Stone, 2015. Nørby, Søren and Jakob Seerup. Den Danske Flåde 1850–1943- som fotograferne så den. Copenhagen: Lindhardt og Ringhof, 2007 NOS. ‘Amerikanen “happy” met Nederlandse minister van Defensie Bijleveld’. NOS, 8 October 2017. Notten, Frank. ‘De opkomst van nieuwe militaire supermachten, De gedaalde uitgaven aan defensie door Nederland en de NAVO in internationaal perspectief ’. De Nederlandse Economie, no. 4 (September 2015). Novo-­Corti, Isabel and Fernando González-Laxe. ‘Maritime Transport and Trade: The Impact of European Transport Policy. An Overview of Maritime Freight Transport Patterns’. European Research Studies 12, no. 1 (2009): 132–147. Nuclear Security Summit 2016. ‘National Progress Report: Ukraine’. Washington, DC: Nuclear Security Summit, 2016. www.nss2016.org/document-­center-docs/2016/3/31/ national-­progress-report-­ukraine. Nye, Joseph S. Jr. Is the Amer­ican Century Over? Cambridge: Polity Press, 2015.

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O Obukhovska, Ksenia. ‘Ukraine economy 2018’. UNIAN News Agency, 2 January 2018. Ó Confhaola, Pádhraic. ‘The Naval Forces of the Irish State’, 1922–1977. (PhD Thesis, National University Ireland Maynooth, 2009). Oder, Tobias. ‘The Dimensions of Russian Sea Denial in the Baltic Sea’. CIMSEC, 4 January 2018. Olsen, G.R. ‘The October 2011 Kenyan invasion of Somalia: fighting al-­Shabaab or defending institutional interests?’ Journal of Contemporary African Studies 36, no. 1 (2018): 39–53. Olsen, John Andreas. European Air Power: Challenges and Opportunities. Lincoln: Potomac Books, 2014. Olsen, John Andreas (ed.). NATO and the North Atlantic: Revitalising Collective Defence. Whitehall paper 87 (2017). O’Rourke, R. ‘Navy Littoral Combat Ship (LCS) Program: Background, Issues, and Options for Congress’. CRS Report for Congress, 20 March 2012. O’Rourke, R. ‘China Naval Modernisation: Implications for U.S. Navy Capabilities – Background and Issues for Congress’. CRS Report for Congress, 1 August 2018. O’Rourke, R. ‘Navy Frigate (FFG[X]) Program: Background and Issues for Congress’. CRS Report for Congress, 4 February 2019. Osterman, Andrej. ‘Republic of Slovenia in NATO –Slovenian Armed Forces ten years later’. Contemporary Military Challenges 16 no. 3 (2014): 45–63. Osuga, Jason Y. ‘Building an Asymmetric Ukrainian Naval Force to Defend the Sea’. CIMSEC 5 September 2017.

P Pagenkopf, Chris. ‘Cooperation Is the Key to NATO’s Future’. Naval Institute Proceedings, September 2014. Paget, Steven. ‘The “best small nation navy in the world”? The twenty-­first century Royal New Zealand Navy.’ Australian Journal of Maritime & Ocean Affairs 8, no. 3 (2016): 230–256. Parry, Chris, Super Highway. Sea Power in the 21st Century. London: Elliot & Thomson, 2014. Perry, Bret. ‘Entering the Bear’s Lair: Russia’s A2/AD Bubble in the Baltic Sea’. The Buzz/The National Interest, September 2016. Persson, Gudrun, and Fredrik Westerlund. Ryska Kärnvapen: Doktrin och förmåga. (Russian Nuclear Weapons: Doctrine and Capability). Stockholm: Swedish Defence Research Agency, 2018. Peters, Robert, Justin Anderson and Harrison Menke. ‘Deterrence in the 21st Century: Integrating Nuclear and Conventional Force’. Strategic Studies Quarterly 12, no. 4 (2018): 15–43. Petersson, Magnus and Håkon Lunde Saxi. ‘Shifting Roles Explaining Danish and Norwegian Alliance Strategy 1949–2009’. Journal of Strategic Studies 36, no. 6 (2012): 761–788. Podbrežnik, Branko. ‘Participation of the Slovenian Armed Forces in International Operations and Missions in the light of the foreign policy of the Republic of Slovenia’. Contemporary Military Challenges 17 no. 4 (2015): 77–99. Põder, Kairit, ed. Eesti Statistika Aastaraamat=statistical Yearbook of Estonia 2016. Tallinn: Statistics Estonia, 2016.

220  Select bibliography Polak, Nathan M., Ryan C. Henderson and Nathan Garret. ‘NATO membership for Albania and Croatia: military modernization, geo-­strategic opportunities and force projection’. The Journal of Slavic Military Studies 22, no. 4 (2009): 502–514. Pomfret, John. ‘U.N. Tanks kill 9 Serbs in Bosnia’. Washington Post, 2 May 1994. Pomersantsev, Peter. ‘How Putin is Reinventing Warfare’. Foreign Policy, 5 May 2014. Ponomarenko, Illia. ‘Ukraine’s defense budget up by 28% in 2018’. Kyiv Post, 10 December 2017. Ponomarenko, Illia. ‘Following Outcry in media, Ukraine’s leadership vows to accept US naval aid’. Kyiv Post, 5 April 2018. Poroshenko, Petro, President of Ukraine. Ministry of Defence of Ukraine official website, 10 April 2015, www.mil.gov.ua/en/news/2015/04/10/president-­ ukraine-was-­ is-and-­ will-be-­a-maritime-­state/4 August  2014. Power, Cathal. ‘Naval Support of Recce Mission’. An Cosantóir 64 no. 3 (2004): 14–15. Prezelin, Bernard, A.D. Baker and Jean Labayle Couhat. The Naval Institute Guide to Combat Fleets of the World 1990/91: Their Ships, Aircraft, and Armament. Annapolis, Md.: Naval Institute Press, 1990. Pugh, Michael. ‘Is Mahan Still Alive? State Naval Power in the International System’. The Journal of Conflict Studies16, no. 2 (1996): 109–123.

R Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty (RFE/RL). ‘Poroshenko says conflict costing Ukraine $5 million a day’. RFE/RL, 28 September 2015. Ranft, Bryan and Geoffrey Till. The Sea in Soviet Strategy. 2nd edn. Hampshire: Macmillan Press, 1989. Ravn-­Olesen, Jens. ‘Kosovo et år og fem dage efter, Kristeligt Dagblad’. www.kristeligt-­ dagblad.dk/kirke-­tro/kosovo-­et-%C3%A5r-og-­fem-dage-­efter. Regeringen III, V.K. Mulighedernes Samfund, 2007. www.stm.dk/multimedia/ Mulighedernes_samfund__Regeringsgrundlag.pdf. Reitano, Tuesday, Sasha Jesperson and Lucia Bird Ruiz-­Benitez de Lugo (eds.). Militarised Responses to Transnational Organised Crime. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018. Reljanović, Mary. ‘Croatian Navy in Defence of the Adriatic’. Hrvatski-­Vojnik, December 2013. Republic of Singapore Navy. ‘Our Mission’. www.mindef.gov.sg/oms/navy/Our_ Mission.HTM. Reuters. ‘U.S. Military Chief Recommends Providing Ukraine with Lethal Defensive Aid’. Reuters, 27 September 2017. Reuters. ‘Ukraine says Russia looted two Crimean oil rigs’. Reuters, 16 December 2015. Reuters. ‘Russia deploys more surface-­to-air missiles in Crimean build-­up’. Reuters, 13 January 2018. Reuters. ‘Citing Russia threat, Ukraine boosts security at ports, power plants’. Reuters, 1 December 2018. Rickii, Jean-­Marc. ‘European small states’ military policies after the Cold War: From territorial to niche strategies’. Cambridge Review of International Affairs 21, no. 3 (2008): 307–325. Ripley, Tim. ‘Ukrainian navy decimated by Russian move into Crimea’. IHS Jane’s Defence Weekly, 25 March 2014. Rogin, Josh. ‘Trump administration approves lethal arms sales to Ukraine’. Washington Post, 20 December 2017.

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222  Select bibliography Schot, Sim. ‘Inzet Zr.Ms. Karel Doorman. Size does matter’. Marineblad 125, no. 7 (2017): 16–18. Schwartzstein, Peter. ‘The Black Sea Is Dying and War Might Push It Over the Edge’. Smithsonian.com, 11 May 2016. Scimia, E. ‘French and British navies draw closer in the Pacific. Should China worry?’ South China Morning Post, 4 June 2018. Seychelles Department of Foreign Affairs. ‘A milestone in our relations – Indian Navy hands over patrol ship to Seychelles Coast Guard’. www.mfa.gov.sc/static. php?content_id=18&news_id=912. Shlapak David A. and Jonson Michael. Reinforcing Deterrence on NATO’s Eastern Flank: Wargaming the Defense of the Baltics. Santa Monica: RAND Corporation, 2016. Slim, Hugo. ‘Special Issue: Beyond the Emergency: Development within UN Peace Missions’. International Peacekeeping 3, no. 2 (1996): 123–140. Sloggett, David. The Anarchic Sea: Maritime Security in the Twenty-­ First Century. London: Hurst & Company, 2013. Slovenian Ministry of Defence. Annual Report of the Ministry of Defence for 2013. Ljubljana: SMoD, 2014. Slovenian Ministry of Defence. Conclusions of the Strategic Defence Review 2016. Ljubljana: SMoD, 2016. Slovenian Ministry of Defence. Resolution of General Long-­ Term Development and Equipping Programme of the Slovenian Armed Forces up to 2025. Ljubljana: SMoD, 2011. Snyder, Glenn H. ‘The Security Dilemma in Alliance Politics’. World Politics 36, no. 4 1984. Speller, Ian. Understanding Naval Warfare, 2nd edn. London: Routledge, 2014: 461–495. Sprūds, Andris and Māris Andžāns (eds.). The Riga Conference Papers 2017. Riga: Latvian Institute of International Affairs, 2017. Sputnik International. ‘On Alert, Crimea to get BUK missile systems.’ Sputnik International, 27 February 2017. Sta, T.M. ‘Slovenian Navy in Action on Sicily Today’. The Slovenian Times, 15 December 2013. Stevenson, Beth. ‘Saab readies new anti-­ship missile for Swedish Air Force’s Gripen fighters’. DefenseNews, 19 July 2018. Stockholm International Peace Research Institute. ‘SIPRI Military Expenditure Database, 1949–2017.’ www.sipri.org/databases/milex. Stöhs, Jeremy. The Decline of European Naval Forces. Challenges to Sea Power in an Age of Fiscal Austerity and Political Uncertainty. Annapolis: US Naval Institute Press, 2018. Stöhs, Jeremy. ‘Into the Abyss? European Naval Power in the Post-­Cold War Era.’ Naval War College Review 71, no. 3 (2018): 13–41. Stoker, Donald J. ‘Undermining the Cordon Sanitaire: Naval Arms Sales and Anglo-­ French competition in Latvia, 1924–1925’. Journal of Baltic Studies 28, no. 2 (1997): 171–180. Stone, John. ‘Conventional Deterrence and the Challenge of Credibility’. Contemporary Security Policy 33, no. 1 (2012): 108–123. Szymański, Piotr. ‘The Multi-­Speed Baltic States: reinforcing the Defence Capabilities of Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia’. OSW Studies, no. 68 (August 2017).

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T Tabek, Igor. ‘2 Finnish Helsinki Class FACs to Croatia’. Defense Industry Daily, 17 May 2008. Tamnes, Rolf (ed.). Årbok for Forsvarshistorisk forskningssenter, Forsvarets høgskole. Oslo: Tanum-­Norli, 1984. Tamnes, Rolf. ‘Et lite land i stormaktspolitikken’. International Politics 72, no. 3 (2015). Tardy, Thierry. ‘Operation Sophia’s World-­Changes and Challenges’. EUISS (European Union Institute for Security Studies) Issue Brief, no. 32, 27 November 2017. TASS News Agency. ‘Black Sea Fleet missile frigates to join Russia’s Mediterranean task force’. TASS, 25 August 2018. Ten Cate, Arthur. Over grenzen. Het Korps Mariniers na de val van de Muur, 1989–2015. Amsterdam: Boom, 2015. Terjesen, Bjørn and Øystein Tunsjø (eds.). The rise of naval powers in Asia and Europe’s decline. Oslo: Norwegian Institute for Defence Studies, 2012. Thauer, Christian R. and Christian Wendt (eds.). Thucydides and Political Order: Concepts of Order and the History of the Peloponnesian War. London: Palgrave MacMillan, 2016. Thomas, Timothy L. ‘Thinking like a Russian Officer: Basic Factors and Contemporary Thinking on the Nature of War’. Foreign Military Studies Office, 2016. Thorhallsson, Baldur. ‘A small state in world politics: Iceland’s search for shelter’. Icelandic Review of Politics and Administration 14, no. 1 (2018): 61–82. Till, Geoffrey. Seapower. A Guide for the Twenty-­First Century. 4th edn. Abingdon, UK: Routledge 2018. Till, Geoffrey. ‘The New U.S. Maritime Strategy: Another View from Outside’. Naval War College Review 68, no. 4 (2015): 34–45. Till, Geoffrey. Asia’s Naval Expansion. An Arms Race in the Making? London: International Institute for Strategic Studies. Routledge, 2012. Till, Geoffrey. ‘ “A Cooperative Strategy for 21st Century Seapower”: A View from Outside’. Naval War College Review 61, no. 2 (2008): 25–38. Till, Geoffrey. ‘Maritime Strategy in a Globalizing World’. Orbis 51, no. 4 (2007): 569–575. Till, Geoffrey. ‘Can small navies stay afloat?’ Jane’s Navy International, May 2003. Till, Geoffrey and Patrick Bratton. Sea Power and the Asia-­Pacific: The Triumph of Neptune? London: Routledge, 2012. Till, Geoffrey and Martin Robson. ‘UK Air-­Sea Integration in Libya, 2011: A Successful Blueprint for the Future?’ Corbett Paper, no. 12 (2013). Till, Geoffrey and Collin Koh Swee Lean. Naval Modernisation in Southeast Asia, Pt 2 Submarine Issues for Small and Medium Navies. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018. Times of Malta. ‘Malta’s Shipping Register remains EU largest’. www.timesofmalta. com/articles/view/20170926/local/maltas-­shipping-register-­is-still-­euslargest.658956. Todd, D. and M. Linberg. Navies and Shipbuilding Industries – The Strained Symbiosis. USA: Praeger, 1996. Torremans, Guy. ‘Mexico Pulls Many missions from a small package’. Warships, July 2017. Torremans, Guy. ‘Ukraine naval Boss Calls for “mosquito fleet” to counter Russia’. Warships, December 2017. Tringham, Kate. ‘Fleet regeneration: Portugal shapes up a modern, balanced fleet’. Jane’s IHS Markit, 2017.

224  Select bibliography Tringham, Kate and Richard Scott. ‘Underwater aspirations’. Jane’s Defence Weekly, 22 October 2018. Trolle Smed, Ulrik. ‘Small States in the CGPCS: Denmark, Working Group 2, and the end of the debate on an international piracy court’. Working Paper of the Lessons Learned Project of the Contact Group on Piracy off the Coast of Somalia (CGPCS), 2015. Tymchuk, Dmitry. ‘Ukrainian military resistance ends in Crimea; Navy destroyed’. Kyiv Post, 26 March 2014. Tziarras, Zenonas. ‘Israel–Cyprus–Greece: a “comfortable” quasi-­alliance’. Mediterranean Politics 21, no. 3 (2016): 407–427.

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Index

Abkhazia 125–6 Absalon class ships 156, 158 Adriatic region 108–9, 193, 195 Afghanistan 21, 112, 153, 157–8, 160–2 AFM see Armed Forces of Malta Africa 16, 19–20, 29, 31, 113, 119 African Union 2 agencies 32, 59, 82, 92; civilian 99; government 83; international 128; interstate 124; law enforcement 58; nonnaval paramilitary 123 aggressors 63, 72, 76–85, 137–8 agreements 83, 113, 157–8, 161, 172, 191–2; ceasefire 158; cooperative 117–18; new governance 159 Ahvenanmaa Islands 79 air defence 125, 178–9 air forces 1, 9, 65, 104, 106, 108, 111–12, 159–60, 162 air power 84, 143–4 air security threats 127 aircraft 59, 66, 121; construction 177; maritime surveillance 38; operations 43 aircraft carriers 5, 37, 107 Albania 56, 97 alliances 64–5, 98, 141, 152, 154; credible 136; de facto 64; informal 65; international security 193; transatlantic 79 amphibious 40, 83, 123, 126; assaults 154, 171; capabilities 60, 111, 144; forces 5, 80; operations 111; units 83–4; vessels 37 anti-air warfare 18, 20, 113 anti-piracy operations 40, 65, 97, 109, 122, 160, 169 anti-ship missiles 84, 98, 175 anti-submarine warfare 18, 58, 77, 104, 107, 111, 113

anti-surface warfare capabilities 20 anti-terrorism 104, 111 AOPS see Arctic offshore patrol ship Arabian Gulf 154–5, 157–8 Arabian Sea 161 Arctic Ocean 2, 10, 153, 158–9, 163 Arctic offshore patrol ship 39 Arctic region 158–9 armed forces 61, 80–1, 136, 148, 186; conventional 141; of Denmark 153–4, 156–8, 160; of Holland 104, 111; of Malta 36, 39, 45, 186–7; of Norway 59, 133, 135–6, 138, 146–8; of Russia 7, 80–1, 142, 144; of Slovenia 61–2 Armed Forces Strategy Paper 2016–2026 (Malta) 186 armed robbery 1, 78, 92 arms 1, 92, 99, 138, 171; embargos 61, 64; purchases 63; smuggling 29; supplies 178 ASEAN see Association of Southeast Asian Nations Asia 7, 16, 113 assets 20, 37–8, 40, 96, 168, 171, 186, 191–2, 194; coastal constabulary 55; international 188; manned 43; multipurpose 98; operational 121; organic air 43; prioritised 188; soft 192 Association of Southeast Asian Nations 20 ASW see anti-submarine warfare attacks 18, 40, 77, 79, 84, 92, 127, 136, 145–6, 148, 154, 157, 161, 169, 171–2; air 18; chemical gas 161; grey-zone 78; long-range precision 146; potential state-on-state 124; preventive 148; service cyber 17 austerity 66, 168, 179, 191; financial 91; fiscal 94–5, 97 Austral class vessels 188

228  Index Automation (levels of) 43–4, 46 Balkan Wars 156 Balkans 62, 156, 163, 172 ballistic missile-carrying submarines 139, 141–2, 147 ballistic missile defence 18, 161 Baltic Defence College 125 Baltic region 9, 71–2, 74–80, 83, 85, 125 Baltic Sea 2, 8–9, 41, 71–6, 80–4, 117–19, 124, 126, 128–30, 153, 155–6, 168, 179; and the Baltic States 9, 56, 71, 75, 79–80, 97, 117–19, 123–7, 129–30, 155, 162–3; and the Black Sea 2, 98, 124; and the cooperation of Denmark to ensure free access of NATO into the 163; and the North Atlantic 153 Baltic Sea Initiative (multilateral initiative) 155 Baltic States 9, 56, 71, 75, 79–80, 97, 117–19, 123–7, 129–30, 155, 162–3; approach to maritime security 123–5; and Baltic Sea 9, 56, 71, 75, 79–80, 97, 117–19, 123–7, 129–30, 155, 162–3; combined 126; and Estonia 9, 56, 118–19, 123, 125–30, 162; and Latvia 8, 52–4, 56–8, 65–6, 94, 97, 118–19, 126; and Lithuania 9, 56, 117–19, 126–7, 129–30; maritime character of 118–19; maritime security and coastal powers 120–3, 155; maritime security strategy for very small states 128–30; and Poland 9, 65, 129, 155, 177; sea apathy and lacking a maritime strategy 127–8 Barents Sea 142 Belgian Navy 109–10 Belgium 9, 19, 56, 97, 106, 108–10, 113, 125 Belt and Road Initiative 16 BeNeLux Naval Cooperation (between Belgium and the Netherlands) 125 Berdyansk (Ukrainian port) 171 Berlin Wall 104, 106 Black Sea 6, 8, 10, 98, 117, 124–6, 168–70, 172–3, 178–9; and Baltic Sea 2, 98, 124; and the five unresolved or ‘frozen’ conflicts in the 173; and the illegal discharging of oil 173 Black Sea Convention 173 blockades 140, 171–2 BMD see ballistic missile defence Booth, Ken 26, 73–4, 77, 84–5, 92 borders 59, 113, 117–19, 127, 171, 186; fuzzy 29; national 120; western 172

BRI see Belt and Road Initiative budgets 66, 93–4, 106, 108, 112, 158, 161, 175; annual defense 97; constraints on 110, 130; declining 95, 99, 193; limited armaments 175; overstretched 179; rearmament 175 capabilities 4–7, 16–18, 36–8, 43–4, 65–6, 84–5, 96, 99, 118, 120–1, 123–4, 128–30, 136–7, 141–2, 148; amphibious 60, 111, 144; blue-water 42; combat 126; constabulary 66, 119–20, 130; expeditionary 110; financial 42; maritime security 118, 120, 123, 126–7, 130; military 5, 58; NATO 142, 144; naval 8, 51–2, 57, 62, 98, 117, 121, 169, 185; operational 37, 147 case studies 1, 7–9, 168 CGPCS see Contact Group on Piracy off the Coast of Somalia China 16–17, 27, 38; and global crime networks 17; growing naval capability 28; Maritime Militia 66; Navy 37; rising power of the Asia-Pacific region 16 coastal defences 3, 60, 83, 98, 174, 178–9, 193; capabilities 60; forces 83; radars 179 Cod Wars 58 Cold War 3–4, 6, 9–10, 27–9, 73, 76, 91–3, 104, 106–9, 111, 113, 152–4, 156–7, 163, 169–70 Combes, William 6, 9 Compilation RNLN 1990–2015 105 Contact Group on Piracy off the Coast of Somalia 160 cooperation 31, 59, 82–3, 98–9, 109–10, 120, 123–6, 129, 152, 163, 178; Baltic Sea Region 125; BeNeLux naval 125; bilateral 124; civilian-military 31; crossagency 123; cross-sectorial 82; DutchGerman 110; enhanced cross-sectorial 82; inter-state 82, 120; international 95, 123, 126, 128–9; multilateral 15, 82–3; multinational 29; naval 96, 125, 178; security 9, 178–9; SUCBAS 82; SUCFIS 82 Corbett, Sir Julian 3, 133–4, 148, 163 corvettes 22, 41–2, 62, 154–5, 157–8, 178 counter narcotics operations 38, 109, 113, 169 counter piracy operations 5, 16, 31, 45, 73, 96, 158, 160–1, 189 counter terrorism 71, 96, 169 Crimea 10, 71, 76, 126, 162, 169–73, 175;

Index  229 illegal annexation of 10, 57, 98, 117, 124–5, 169; port of Kerch 172; and Russian military forces in 169; and Sevastopol bases on 126; and the war in east Ukraine 7, 22, 52, 71, 162, 168–79 Croatia 5, 10, 56, 61, 66, 97–8, 185–6, 193–6; contributes to increased maritime security in the region 195; and the Croatian Navy 5, 10, 61, 97–8, 185–6, 193–6; deploys a patrol vessel in the Adriatic region 195; entry into NATO’s PFP and membership access program 193; and greater integration among Croatian forces 193; and plans for the modernisation of the fleet 194 Croatian Armed Forces Long Term Development Plan 2006–2015 193 Croatian Navy 5, 10, 61, 97–8, 185–6, 193–6 cruise liners 40 cruise missiles 22, 81, 175, 178 Cyber Security Strategy 2014 (Estonian Ministry of Economic Affairs and Communications) 129 cyberattacks 78, 121, 128 cybersecurity 82, 123, 128 cyberspace 123, 128 Cypriot Naval Command (Ναυτική Διοίκηση Κύπρου) 52, 63–4 Cyprus 8, 52–4, 63–6, 97, 153; and the invasion of Northern Cyprus 63; military expenditure per capita for 53; Navy 63–4; and the non-plausibility of NATO membership 64; strategy of informal alliances with Greece and Israel 65; supply of modern weaponry from France 64 defence 9, 19, 71, 73–4, 104, 107, 113, 136, 138, 144, 147, 155–6, 159, 162, 190; agreements 154–6, 161; antiaircraft 84; bilateral 9; co-operation 63, 71; coastal 3, 98, 174, 193; collective 98, 124–5; forces 152, 154, 159, 192; industries 10, 169; inflation 20, 177; national 21, 64, 94, 123, 146, 193, 195; planners 91, 95; spending 57, 91–3, 99; territorial 37, 97, 146, 156–7 defence budgets see budgets Denmark 10, 51, 56, 93, 97, 106, 108, 152–64; amphibious and coastal defence units 83; contributes and leads RECSYR 161; contributes to and leads RECSYR (removing chemical weapons from

Syria) 161; criticised for not spending two per cent of the GDP on defence 162; navy and naval strategy 4, 59, 152–3, 155–7, 160–4; revisits its strategy in the High North 159; role as one of NATO’s frontline states ended with German unification in 1990 154, 163; and the Royal Danish Navy 83, 152–3, 155, 157, 159, 161, 163; and Russia’s new role in Europe 163; security strategy 152 deployments 40–1, 43, 53, 61–3, 92, 126, 154–8, 160, 170, 189, 191–2, 195; conducting multiple 160; expeditionary 60; forward 23; global 158; international 192; maritime 108 deterrence 16, 125, 135–40, 148, 162–3; concept of 140; conventional 74, 92; extended 74; measures 138; nuclear 18, 141, 145, 163; securing credible 136; strategies 138–9, 162 Disaster/Threat Response Plan 122 Doorman, Karel 110–11 drugs 17, 29, 118, 168, 179 drugs smuggling 15, 18, 172 dual track strategy 154, 158, 161 East China Sea 16 East–West arms race 27 economic blockades see also blockades 171 EEZ see Exclusive Economic Zone EMSA see European Maritime Safety Agency Estonia 9, 56, 118–19, 123, 125–30, 162; cyber connections cables run under the Black Sea 128; economic importance of the border with the sea 118; at the frontline of possible Russian aggression 52; maritime security strategy 128; Navy 155; protecting and securing maritime security and access to the Baltic Sea 117 Estonian National Defence College 129 EU see European Union European Maritime Safety Agency 59 European navies 2, 21, 91–5, 106, 179; capabilities of 5; and challenges in the post-Cold War environment 91; Croatian Navy 5, 10, 61, 97, 185–6, 193–6; defined by Till as having ‘limited means and aspirations’ 5; and downsizing after the Cold War 6; and implications of the challenge from

230  Index European navies continued Russia 7; less capable of addressing the broad range of maritime security challenges than any time in recent memory 91; small 1, 10, 52, 65, 67, 94, 106, 168, 179, 185 European security 1–2, 5, 10, 153, 155, 162, 195 European small states’ maritime territory comparing their land territory Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ) (in km2) 55 European states 3, 7, 9, 52, 91, 93, 98, 140, 162 European Union 2, 40, 61, 97, 187 Exclusive Economic Zone 38–9, 52–3, 55, 58–9, 63–4, 66, 73, 92, 120–2, 124, 126 exercises 23, 28–9, 36, 58, 110–11, 128–9; annual strategic-level 80; capacitybuilding 187; joint military 64; NATO sponsored 58–9, 61, 98, 113; Russian 80 expeditionary operations 65 FAC see fast attack craft Faroe Islands 159 fast attack craft 22, 57, 63, 65–6, 154, 156, 163, 175 Fawzi, Gen. Mohammed 45 Finland 7, 9, 19, 61, 66, 83, 97–8, 119, 124 fiscal austerity 94–5, 97 fishery protection 53, 58, 61 fishing 29, 31, 92, 119 fishing boats 17, 23 fleets 16, 18, 20, 22, 37, 39–40, 98, 106, 108, 110–12, 125, 133, 188, 190–1, 193–4; ‘mosquito’ 168, 171, 174–6; Russia and the Black Sea Fleet 125–6, 170, 176; shrinking 96, 111 Flynn, Brendan 8, 97 force multipliers 8, 36, 42–3, 46–7, 95, 146; concept of 36; and the effectiveness of submarines 23; intangible 45; and platform automation 43; and small navies 36, 36–47; tangible 43 force structures 46, 77, 118, 137; balanced joint 65; and capabilities 118, 137; existing 8, 47; maritime 77; projected 77; Russian 83; sustaining 41 foreign policy 7, 73, 96, 108, 155–7 French Marine Nationale 37, 91, 195 frigates 4, 42–4, 105–7, 109, 152, 159, 161–2, 170; air defence 111; guided missile 107; largest 4; largest measured by tonnage 4; multipurpose 109, 113; new 156–8, 161

G7, 2 Georgia 7, 9, 117, 125, 172–3; and amphibious Russian landings in Abkhazia 126; and the Navy 52, 117, 126, 128; navy largely destroyed by Russia 52, 126; and the presence of ungoverned spaces in the Black Sea region 173; and the problem of nuclear trafficking in the region 173; and the Russo-Georgian War 125–6 Gerasimov, Gen. Valery 17 Germond, Basil 8, 96, 152 global and ‘supra-regional’ ambitions 96–7 Global Maritime Partnership 30 Granholm, Niklas 8, 99 Greenland 156, 158–9, 163; aspirations for independence 10, 153, 159; politicians increase pressure on the Danish government 159; relations with Denmark 159; sovereignty 159 grey-zone confrontation and conflict 71–85 Grove, Eric 4, 26, 37 helicopters 58, 62, 84, 98, 104–5, 107, 110, 170 high-end conflict 71–3, 77, 79, 83–4, 130 ‘high-low mix conundrum’ 98 HMNZS Canterbury 44 HMS Cornwall 23 Holland see Netherlands Holland, James 22 Howard, Sir Michael 21 humanitarian assistance 15, 30, 92, 122, 160 humanitarian missions 6, 62, 65 hybrid solutions 20 hybrid tactics 7 hybrid-warfare 79 hydrographic survey work 58 Iceland 5, 8, 52–4, 56, 58–9, 65–6; Coastguard 53, 58–9; confrontations with Britain (Cod Wars) 58; economy of 58; and NATO membership of 58; and NATO radar air defence network on 58; NATO/US diplomacy 58 IISS see International Institute for Strategic Studies illegal migration 1, 187 Indian Ocean 16, 18, 158, 160–2 infrastructure 21, 24, 41, 78, 141, 169; failure in developing support 22; in the north of Norway 139, 142, 145; of Russia 139, 142, 145; sites in the Ukraine 172; United States 144

Index  231 INS see Irish Naval Service intangible force multipliers 45–6 intelligence 18, 95, 135–6, 139, 192 inter-state cooperation 82, 120 International Institute for Strategic Studies 56 international organisations 2, 97 IRA arms smuggling 60 Iranian Republican Guard Navy 23 Iraq 21, 58, 112, 153, 157–8, 160–2 Ireland 5, 7–8, 10, 19, 39, 52–4, 59–61, 65–6, 94, 97, 106, 185, 190–3; armed forces of 28; and the Defence White Paper 61; and the Irish Coastguard 60; and Irish Defence Forces 46, 188, 190; and Irish defence policy 190; and the Irish Naval Service 5, 39, 41, 43–5, 53, 59–61, 66, 97, 186, 195–6; maritime policy 191; naval vessels 60; and participation in the EU’s MARSUR project 61 Irish Naval Service 5, 39, 41, 43–5, 53, 59–61, 66, 97, 186, 195–6 ISIS 17 Islamic Republic 172 Israel 9, 19, 45, 64–5, 94, 117, 126, 158; intelligence 43; and the Mediterranean Sea 126–7; Navy 42, 45, 61, 93, 123, 126–7 Italy 5, 60, 91, 96, 187–9 Jane’s Fighting Ships 1, 4 joint support ship 110–11 JSS see joint support ship JSS Karel Doorman 111 Kerch Straits 10, 169, 171–2, 175, 179 Kola Peninsula 141, 143 Korean War 28, 155 Kosovo conflict 156 Kuznya shipyard 177–8 lakes 18 land forces 57, 62, 126, 133, 142, 161–3 landing craft 104, 191, 194 larger navies 1, 3, 7, 10, 21–2, 65, 96, 108, 128, 185–6, 195 Latvia 8, 52–4, 56–8, 65–6, 94, 97, 118–19, 126; approach to maritime security 123; defence spending 57; the frontline of possible Russian aggression 52; and the Latvia Navy (Latvijas Jūras Spēki) 56–7, 65; and Lithuania 9, 117, 119, 127, 129–30; maintain an unarmed

patrol boat squadron 57; and the Russian security threat 65; and second-hand NATO equipment 57 Layton, P. 38 LCS see Littoral Combat Ship Project League of Nations 76 Libya 45, 53, 59–60, 62, 158, 161, 187 Libyan Civil War 60, 189 lighthouses 78 Lindberg, Michael 37 Lithuania 9, 56, 117–19, 126–7, 129–30; approach to maritime security 123; the frontline of further possible Russian aggression 52; and Latvia 9, 117, 119, 127, 129–30; Navy 52 Littoral Combat Ship Project 43–4 logistic support 59, 142, 146, 158 M-frigates 110 Mahan, Alfred Thayer 3, 8, 19, 134, 163 Mahanian conception 27, 29 Mallia, Andrew 5, 8 Malta 10, 39–40, 52, 56, 66, 97, 185–9, 194–6; and the 1st Regiment of the Malta Land Forces 189; increasing border control duties 188; involvement in regional security operations 187; and the Malta Maritime Squadron 186; policy developments 187; and Rapid Deployment Teams conducting highrisk interdiction operations 189; status as the sixth largest flag state in the world 189; strategic position with regards to sea-based migration 187 Malta Maritime Squadron 186 Maltese College of Art, Science and Technology 188, 196 Mare Nostrum Operation (Italian government) 6, 62 marines 59, 107, 110, 112, 175, 190 Maritime Analysis and Coordination Centre-Narcotics 191 Maritime and Coastal Law Enforcement 122 maritime blockades 126, 169 maritime borders 120, 126 maritime capabilities 62, 117, 122, 126, 130, 179 maritime capability to dimension matrix 122 maritime deployments 108 maritime domain awareness 1–3, 10, 29–32, 38, 43, 62, 72, 117–18, 121–5, 129–30, 140–1, 143, 168–71, 191;

232  Index maritime domain awareness continued dangers 179; global threats 2; militarised in the Black Sea 170; sharing of 124; surface and under-sea 175 maritime insecurity 160 maritime missions 99, 129 maritime nations 9, 117, 121, 129–30, 133, 148 maritime patrol aircraft 58–9, 98, 105–7, 109, 111, 160 maritime security 1–3, 5–9, 11, 29, 31–2, 61, 67, 85, 92, 117–20, 123, 128–30, 160–1, 168–9, 196; agencies 123; agenda 170; allies 65; apparatus 129; capabilities 118, 120, 123, 126–7, 130; challenges 91, 97, 125, 172–3, 179; and coastal powers 120; and collective European initiatives 1, 59; constabulary enforcement capabilities 130; contribution by the Baltic States 117; dimensions of 120–1, 124, 126, 129–30; discussions 6, 130; enablers 124, 128; experts 91; forces 72, 77–9, 81–2, 84–5; interests of the EU and its member states 2, 9; military dimensions of 6, 127, 130; operations 5–6, 15, 20, 29, 83, 92, 97, 186, 195; problems 77, 173; sharing of 129–30; stakeholders 129; strategies, for small Baltic states 2–3, 9, 117, 117–31, 191; threats 120, 124, 128, 168–9, 173 Maritime Security Strategy and Action Plan 61 Maritime Squadron of the armed forces of Malta 45, 52, 187, 189–90 maritime strategies 1, 3, 7, 9–10, 118, 127–8, 133–5, 168, 196 Mariupol (Ukranian port) 171–2 MCAST see Maltese College of Art, Science and Technology MCM see mine countermeasures MDA see maritime domain awareness micro-states 52, 59 Middle East 16, 106, 108, 111, 162–3 military expenditure, in constant (2015) US, for Cyprus, Iceland*, Ireland, Latvia and Slovenia 1996–2016 54 military expenditure per capita for Cyprus, Iceland, Ireland, Latvia and Slovenia, contrasted with France 1996–2016 (in 2017 US$) 53 military forces 29, 73, 125–6, 134, 148, 154–5 military strategies 10, 118, 127, 133, 135, 162

mine-hunters 56–7, 194 mine warfare 57, 123–4, 130 minelayers 154, 157, 163 minesweepers 59, 107, 194 missile ships 170 missile systems 121, 194 missiles 27, 64, 66; anti-ship 84, 98, 175; ballistic 81, 111; guided 171; hypersonic 18; long-range 170 missions 19, 21, 40, 43, 61–2, 65, 95–6, 99, 104, 106, 108, 110, 112, 120, 174; constabulary 30, 113; diplomatic 26; humanitarian 6, 62, 65; maritime 99, 129; naval 15, 26–7, 32, 92 Morgan, Joseph R. 3–5, 37 ‘mosquito fleet’ 168, 171, 174–6 MPA see maritime patrol aircraft multilateral cooperation 15, 82–3 multipurpose frigates 109, 113 Napoleonic Wars 140, 147 national security 1, 123, 128, 195 National Security and Defence Council (Ukraine) 178 NATO 8–10, 19–20, 58–9, 61–2, 64–6, 97–9, 107–8, 117, 124–5, 127–30, 138–9, 141–5, 147–8, 155–6, 162–3; alliance 8, 57; allies 129, 153; ballistic missile defence 161; Baltic Sea States 163; capabilities 142, 144; coalition naval war-fighting and contingency operations 62; combat forces 143; membership 30, 52, 58, 62–3, 98, 135, 145, 153; and Operation Sea Guardian 195; sponsored exercises 58–9, 61, 98, 113 naval capabilities 28, 51–2, 55, 57, 98, 117, 120–1, 169, 174, 185 naval cooperation 96, 125, 178 naval forces 28, 51–2, 85, 92–3, 96, 98, 107, 124–5, 134–5, 147–8, 169, 175; Croatia 5, 10, 61, 97, 185–6, 193–6; Cypriot 63–4; deploying 93, 96; Finland 97; Irish 61; Latvian 52; Lithuanian 52; and NATO 52, 97, 107, 126, 128, 130, 143, 157; Norwegian 133; Russian 5, 37, 126, 144; shrinking in size 93; small 45, 97, 99; small Gulf states 51; smaller European 55, 99; Sweden 4, 97, 152, 176; Ukraine 10, 168–9, 171–7, 179; unwelcome 16 naval missions 15, 26–7, 32, 92 naval operations 72, 97, 99, 106, 110, 158, 162

Index  233 naval power 28–9, 32, 51, 98, 120–1, 127; European 91, 95; global 91; primary 127; regional 128 Naval Service 91, 190–2 naval strategies 153–4, 163, 174; historical tradition of 163; new 169, 174–5, 179 navies see also small navies 3–10, 15–24, 26–7, 36–7, 40–1, 43–7, 51–2, 64–6, 72–4, 82–5, 91–9, 106–12, 152–64, 185–6, 193–5; Baltic 28, 85; capable 37, 97, 126; categorising 4, 37, 93; coastal 6, 120–1, 130; constabulary 37, 66, 97, 186; European 2, 5–7, 21, 91–5, 106, 179; hand-me-down 51, 53, 55, 57, 59, 61, 63, 65, 67; large 4, 7–8, 26–8, 37, 42, 91, 186; NATO 52, 107; new 185, 193; non-NATO 8; ‘paradigm’ 93–4; powerful 6, 27, 96, 174; Royal Australian Navy 43; Royal Brunei Navy 41–2; Royal Canadian Navy 39; Royal Danish Navy 83, 152–64; Royal Netherlands Navy 9, 91, 104–11, 113; Royal New Zealand Navy 31, 51, 93, 191; and the Royal Norwegian Navy 133–48; Royal Swedish Navy 81, 83; Russian 5, 37, 144; Turkish 178; Ukrainian Navy 10, 168–79 Navies and Foreign Policy 73 Netherlands 5, 19, 51, 96–7, 104, 107–11, 113, 125; and cooperation with the Belgian navy 109; and the Dutch admiralty 107; and the Dutch admiralty refuses to confine the RNLN to a single ASW 107; and the Dutch armed forces shrinks considerably 111; and the Dutch Maritime Patrol Aircraft and submarines 106; and the Dutch naval base of Den Helder 109; government of 9, 106–8, 110; multipurpose frigates 110; and public remarks in the national media by flag officers and task force commanders 109 NMCI see National Maritime College Ireland non military sea power 29 NORDEFCO see Nordic Defence Cooperation Nordic 71–2, 74, 77–9, 83, 85; and Baltic Sea region 71–2, 74, 78–9, 83, 85; states 71; units 59 Nordic Defence Cooperation 71 North Atlantic 58, 98, 107, 113, 143, 153, 156–7, 162 Norway 4, 9, 52, 56, 83, 93, 97, 108, 120,

133–40, 144–8, 152, 161, 174; ability to handle security crises and attacks below a certain threshold 136; and the concept of threshold defence 136; and defence planning 147; and deterrence schemes 137; efforts in promoting, improving and securing international law and the existing world order 147; and gas production 144; geostrategic position and interests 148; inshore waters of 146; involvement in conflicts around the world 147; and its allies 147; maritime security 9; military capabilities 136; and the military threat of Russia 140; and the Norwegian Navy 133–4, 140, 147–8; open and internationally orientated economy 146; and the partnership to the Atlantic powers of the US and the EU 148; promotes international law and the existing world order by all available means 147; and the Royal Norwegian Navy 133–48; and the strategic relevance of the Kola Peninsula 141; strategies of 133, 135, 137, 145; strategy as an overall defensive or status-quo approach in its relationship with other states 135, 148; territories 140, 146–7 Norwegian Navy 133–4, 140, 147–8 nuclear deterrence 18, 141, 145, 163 nuclear powers 18, 141, 145 nuclear submarines 5, 37 nuclear torpedoes 81 nuclear weapons 81, 141–2 numbers of personnel (2017) in the navies of European small states 56 ocean governance 8, 29–30, 32; aims 29; global 31–2 OCSCE see Organisation for Security Cooperation in Europe Odessa 170, 172–3 offshore patrol vessels 58, 60, 64, 66, 106, 188 Offshore Patrol Vessels 22, 39, 42, 59–60, 66, 105, 109, 191, 194 open conflict 71–2, 74, 76, 79–80, 84–5 Operation Active Endeavour 157 Operation Atalanta 60, 62, 194 Operation CANALE 187 Operation Desert Shield 154–5 Operation Enduring Freedom 109 Operation Iraqi Freedom 157

234  Index Operation Linda Nchi 40 Operation Maritime Monitor (later Operation Sharp Guard) 156 Operation Ocean Shield 160 Operation PONTUS 192 Operation Sea Guardian 98 Operation Sharp Guard 156 operational concepts 81, 144–5 operations 9–10, 18, 28, 40–1, 79–80, 83–5, 92–3, 106, 108–9, 112, 141–2, 160–1, 186–7, 189, 193–5; anti-piracy 40, 65, 97, 109, 122, 160, 169; constabulary 73, 83; counter drug 109, 113; counter narcotics 38, 169; counter piracy 5, 16, 31, 45, 73, 96, 158, 160–1, 189; expeditionary 64–5, 92; global 162; grey-zone 73, 82; helicopter 59; land 79, 112; mine-clearance 78; peace-time 98; wartime 32, 124 OPVs see offshore patrol vessels Organisation for Security Cooperation in Europe 155 patrol vessels 38–9, 62, 64, 66, 85, 126, 130, 157–8, 190, 195 peace support operations 92, 98 peacetime 71, 74, 124–6, 129, 136; duties 3; emergent needs of 193; patrolling 95; tasking 32, 193 people-smuggling vessels 6, 62, 189 Permanent Structured Cooperation on Security and Defence 61 PESCO see Permanent Structured Cooperation on Security and Defence piracy 1, 15, 20, 29–30, 73, 78, 92, 119, 158, 160 PME see professional military education programmes Poland 9, 65, 129, 155, 177 ports 2, 40, 57, 61, 78, 83, 110–11, 171–2; commercial 171; facilities 78, 126; foreign 30 post-Cold War 1, 71, 83, 91, 93, 96 power projection 26–7, 92, 121, 152, 163, 185 procurement 20, 38, 41, 60, 65, 154, 175–6, 188; asset 195; planned 63 professional military education programmes 21, 125 RBN see Royal Brunei Navy RCN see Royal Canadian Navy RECSYR 161, 163 regional 4, 7, 18–19, 91, 93, 124–5, 128,

130, 155, 158, 160, 162–4, 171, 173, 187–90; cooperation 124, 187; cooperation framework 173; deployments 158; influence 155; naval powers 128; security 72, 187–8; strategies 155, 163; wars 80 reinforcements 79–80, 136, 138, 141, 143, 146 religious extremism 17 Republic of Ireland see Ireland Republic of Singapore Navy 4, 19, 30, 51, 94; forms a vanguard against sea robberies, piracy, terrorism and unwanted incursions 30, 93 risks 2, 17, 28–9, 72, 77, 79, 84–5, 92, 94, 96, 128, 137, 146, 152, 157; European state system 52; high 80, 142–3, 152; hypothetical 127; new 92; operational 144; potential 18; strategic 94; technological 44, 98 rivers 18–20, 37, 40, 172, 176 RMP see recognised maritime picture RNLMC see Royal Netherlands Marine Corps Romania 65, 97, 172 Roosevelt, Pres. Theodore 27 Royal Australian Navy 43 Royal Brunei Navy 41–2 Royal Canadian Navy 39 Royal Danish Navy 83, 152–64; Arctic and Greenlandic independence 159; changes after the Cold War 153; continues to be the main player of the three services 163; counter-piracy to chemical weapons 160–1; dual track strategy and budget cuts 161–2; implementing the strategy of influence 2001–2007 157–8; institutional decade 1990–2001 154–6; naval strategy of balancing in the 1980s 154; participating in a number of US-led interventions and conflicts 153; and Russia’s new role in Europe 163 Royal Navy 37, 60, 74, 91, 108, 191 Royal Netherlands Marine Corps 106, 110, 112 Royal Netherlands Navy 9, 91, 104–13; after the Cold War 104–13; ambitions 107–8; following public remarks by flag officers, policy changes were made by the government 109; and the impact of the Cold War on the development of operations and doctrine 9; a mediumsized navy within NATO 108–9; and the

Index  235 new fleet 109–12; operates worldwide with focus more on the transport of military personnel and material then on waging battle at sea. 104; and the position of the Dutch government 9; stationed in the Netherlands East Indies before the Second World War 107–8 Royal New Zealand Navy 31, 51, 93, 191 Royal Norwegian Navy 6, 9, 133, 140, 148 Royal Swedish Navy 81, 83 Russia 2–3, 6–7, 10, 16–17, 19, 62–4, 76–7, 79–81, 98, 117, 119, 126–8, 139–48, 161–3, 168–72; A2/AD capabilities 145–6; aims to deter NATO from projecting power against and into the Bastion 143; air defence missiles 63; backed separatists 171; and the Black Sea Fleet 125–6, 170, 176; border guards 171; and Chinese behaviour 17; and Chinese navies 37; combat patrol ships 170; concept for securing operational freedom for their SSBNs called ‘the Bastion Defence’ 142; denies operations towards the GIUK gap 142; deterrence strategy 141, 144; economy of 144; exclave of Kaliningrad 119; Fleet in the North Sea 174; Hind combat helicopters 63; Kalibr long-range land attack cruise missiles 22; maritime tactics 126; military forces 80, 98, 126, 139, 144, 171, 179; naval forces 5, 37, 58–9, 126, 143–4; sea denial ambitions 143; securing strategic submarines and associated infrastructure 145; shapes the strategy of Norway 133; state-on-state aggression 130; SU24 bombers 170; zone of influence and control in the Baltic Sea region 71 Russian Federation see Russia Russo-Georgian War 125–6 sabotage of lane-markers 78 Samuel Beckett (offshore patrol vessels) 60, 191 Sanders, Deborah 52 scenarios 73, 77, 79, 81–5, 137, 139; asymmetric 162; energy 145; grey-zone 72, 79, 81, 84–5; high-end 84–5; highend warfare 79; maritime rescue 58; Scenario 1 (operational aim of the aggressor is to do damage to economic life by disturbing seaborne trade) 77–83; Scenario 2 (high-end warfare in the Nordic–Baltic region) 79–84

sea control 6–7, 15, 23, 26, 96, 106, 120–1, 142, 146 sea denial 23, 106, 121, 143 Sea of Azov 169, 171–2, 176 sea power 8, 27, 29–30, 32, 107, 112, 133–5, 140–1, 147–8; post-modern 27, 29–31; theories 134 Second World War 22, 28, 74, 76, 78, 107–8, 118, 190 security: maritime security 1–2, 6, 9–10, 29–30, 72–3, 81, 83, 96, 98, 117–21, 123, 125–6, 128–30, 169–70, 172; Baltic 155; cooperation 9, 178–9; European 1–2, 5, 10, 153, 155, 162, 195; global seaborne trade 73; international 85, 185; ocean governance and maritime 29, 31; operations 2, 6, 8, 10, 168, 189, 195; regional 72, 187–8; small navies and maritime 1–11 Seychelles Coast Guard 38 SLN see Sri Lankan Naval forces Slovenia 6, 8, 52–4, 56, 61–2, 65–6, 97 small Baltic states, maritime security strategies for 117–30 small European states 8, 51–2, 62, 64 small nations 9, 120, 126–7, 129–30, 134, 148 small navies 1, 3–5, 7–11, 19–23, 26–32, 36–47, 51–2, 63–6, 91–9, 168, 174, 178–9, 185–7, 189, 193–5; and Canada’s HMCS Charlottetown in NATO operations against Gadhafi’s Libya in 2011 28; capability of 8, 46; and the collective form of sea power 30; and the concept of non-military sea power 29; efficiency of 169, 175; facing tangible security threats to their territory 65–7; and fiscal austerity 94–5, 97; and force multipliers 36–47; and foreign policy 7, 73, 96, 108, 155–7; and global interdependence 40–1; and the high-low mix conundrum 98; and the importance of alliances, recessions and expeditionary operations 64–7; and intangible force multipliers 45–6; and legal challenges 39–41; and limitations of force restructuring 41–2; and nonmilitary sea power 29; operational nuances of 2; participating in multinational coalition operations or exercises 28; and participation in expeditionary operations 65; and postmodern sea power 29, 31; procurement

236  Index small navies continued and logistics 38–9, 42; and the risk of ‘entrapment’ (used by the big powers) 28; and the risk of role specialisation achieved at the expense of other capabilities 28; role of 1–2, 20, 38, 45, 47, 91, 93–5, 97, 99, 134; satisfying global and ‘supra-regional’ ambitions 96–7; and sea power 26, 26–32; and tangible force multipliers 43–4 small navies of small European states 51–67; Cypriot Naval Command (Ναυτική Διοίκηση Κύπρου) 52, 63–4; Estonia Navy 155; Iceland’s Coastguard 58–9; Irish Naval Service 5, 39, 41, 43–5, 53, 59, 59–61, 66, 97, 186, 195–6; Latvia’s Navy (Latvijas Jūras Spēki) 56–7, 65; Lithuania Navy 52; Slovenian Navy 6, 56, 61, 61–3, 98 small states 40–1, 51–3, 55, 62, 64–7, 91, 94–6, 117, 119, 121, 123, 125–9, 131, 152–3, 163; European 56; maritime security strategies for 117–30; navies of 1, 3, 6–9, 19–24, 52, 65–6, 96, 163, 185, 189; Stalin’s dismissal of 67 smuggling 1, 168, 172; interdiction 190, 192; networks 173; nuclear 173–4; operations infrastructures 189; prevention 120 South China Sea 16–17 Sri Lankan Navy 23 SSBNs see ballistic missile submarines Stalin, Joseph 51 strategic context 7, 15, 17, 19, 21, 23, 193; complex 15; current 7, 15, 17, 19, 21, 23 strategic effects 15, 17, 19–20, 22, 134 strategic roles 9, 133–4, 140, 146–8 strategy 3, 7, 9–10, 15–16, 23, 118, 124, 128–30, 134–5, 137–8, 153, 155, 159, 162–4, 174; of autonomy 152; changes of 153, 163; conflict management 138–9; cyber 128; documents 118; dual 154, 162; effective 8, 24; security patterns 174; small nation’s 128 submarines 23, 93, 98, 105–7, 109, 112–13, 121, 123, 141, 145, 152, 154, 156–7, 163, 174–5; attack 144; conventional 76, 170; and long-range bombers 143, 145; strategic 141–2, 145; Western 142 SUCFIS cooperation 82 support 6–7, 39, 41, 43, 45, 60, 62, 72, 74, 123, 129, 145, 147–8, 155, 157; air 60, 84; allied 136, 147; logistic 59, 142, 146, 158; political 156, 161, 163

surprise attacks 80–1, 83, 143 surveillance 136, 139, 154, 159, 192 survey work, hydrographic 58 Sweden, navy 4, 97, 152, 176 Swedish Royal Navy 40 Syrian Civil War 2, 63, 161 tangible force multipliers 43–4 technological developments affecting the regional setup 76 technology 4, 8, 21–2, 43, 46, 76–7, 94, 135, 192; based solutions 44; high-end defence 95; improving 23; missile 42; sensor 76; state-of-the-art 95; transformational 18 telecommunication cables 72, 78 territorial waters 30, 92, 119–21, 126, 170, 172, 192–3; and EEZs 121; policing 26 terrorism 1, 30, 92, 99, 113; international 15, 17; prevention 120; state-sponsored 127 threats 1–3, 9–10, 18–19, 23, 72–4, 81–2, 92, 107–8, 118, 120–1, 124–5, 127–9, 137–8, 147–8, 171; air military 125; air security 127; maritime security 120, 124, 128, 168–9, 173; military 169; potential 171–2; state-on-state 127 Till, Geoffrey 5, 7, 29, 37, 91 Todd, D. 37 training 4, 45, 47, 59–60, 62, 76, 94, 110, 135, 168, 170–1, 175, 178, 188, 190; activities 45; centres 126; nationalised 192; officers 188; programmes 188; regimes 45–6 triangle of naval missions 26 Turkish navies 178 Turkish Navy 52, 63, 178 Ukraine 7, 22, 52, 71, 168–79; ability to build new naval platforms domestically 173, 178; coastal defence 178; defence budget 175, 177; economy 171, 176, 179; EEZ 175; establishes two port control units (Odessa Sea port and at Borispol International Airport) 172; faces a complex mix of traditional and new maritime security challenges 169–70, 179; faces an increasingly contested maritime security domain 169; government of 169, 176; maritime security 171; ports 171, 173; and the rate of inflation in 177; regenerating the small navy 174, 176; Russian and Chinese behaviour set against a

Index  237 background of concern about the independent rise of global crime networks 17; Russian annexation of Crimea 71, 162; Security Services 174; shipbuilding industry 169, 176–7, 179; traditional maritime security challenges 170; and the Ukrainian Navy 10, 168–79 Ukrainian Navy 10, 168–79 UN peacekeeping mission in Lebanon 158 UN Security Council 156 UN Security Council Resolution 1851, 160 UNIFIL see UN peacekeeping mission in Lebanon unregulated fishing 31 US Navy 6–7, 31, 37, 43–4, 108

Defender class 188; lightly-armed 109; MCM 57, 107, 109–11, 156; new 60, 188, 193; patrol 38–9, 62, 64, 66, 85, 126, 130, 157–8, 190, 195; pirated 38; registered 189; second-hand 56; specialist 57; supply 110–11; USCGdonated 188 Volker, Kurt 178 von Moltke, Field Marshal 21

van der Peet, Anselm 9 vessels 5, 41–2, 44–5, 57–60, 64–5, 82, 106, 108, 110–11, 119, 126, 173, 191, 193–4; amphibious 37; Austral class 188; cargo 194; coastal defence 179;

Xuereb, Chris 5, 8

WAPA see Warsaw Pact Warsaw Pact 91, 104, 154 Warsaw Security Forum 2017 128 Willemoes Class ships 156 wind power installations 72 World Food Program vessels 189

Yom Kippur War 45 Yugoslavia 61, 156, 193; former 106, 108–9, 186, 193; Navy 194–5