Tag Archive for: Royal Navy

Let’s get behind an Australian merchant navy

I congratulate Peter Court for his recent Strategist article, which was as timely as it was important. The Royal Australian Navy should wholeheartedly support his proposition to stand up a merchant marine, not because it’s Labor policy as Court points out, but because it’s vitally, critically important for the nation and its defence. As well as being very sensible, Labor’s policy intentions are clear and expressed quite emphatically, as they need to be. One wonders what they’ve done about implementing it.

As a young Australian navy lieutenant undertaking my principal warfare officer course with the Royal Navy in the UK in 1983 (as we all did in those days), my British and Australian classmates and I benefited enormously from the first-hand experience of instructors who had personally been ‘in’ the Falklands War a year earlier. It was an incredibly rich environment in which to learn the trade we were in, at a time when Australia’s most recent naval warfare experience was the Vietnam War. While still very relevant, that war was also very different from the Falklands, and for our navy people, less brutal and personally widespread.

One aspect of the Falklands War we absorbed was the importance to British success of STUFT—an acronym for ‘ships taken up from trade’. As Court points out, the British-flagged Merchant Navy fleet was vital. Without it, Britain may well have lost two wars—the Falklands War and World War II.

Soon after my UK immersion, I found myself sitting around the large chequerboard tactical-gaming amphitheatre of the RAN’s Tactical School at HMAS Watson in Sydney. It was a very energising experience for a young officer. I was flush with brash self-confidence after graduating from the pre-eminent professional naval warfare course available to us, one which we thought had also been pretty tough. On this day, the fleet commander was running a wargame to help him come to grips with one of his many responsibilities at the time. In this case it was defending Christmas Island.

It was a fascinating event. The top echelon of the Australian Defence Force’s war fighters of the day were there; the best of the best if you like. We few youngsters who were privileged to be present certainly thought so. There were ship’s commanding officers and their warfare teams of senior people, logisticians, army and air force specialists from many fields, eminent international lawyers, scientists, policy people and more.

Among this stellar gathering were a couple of people I’d never heard of. They were the NCAPS people—meaning naval control and protection of shipping. No one else seemed to know them either, nor did anyone seem to know what they did.

The admiral seemed to be taking this wargame very seriously indeed. We reached a point in the scenario where the question arose of moving what (to us) was just an unimaginably vast quantity of all manner of stuff to Christmas Island. There was just no way this sort of volume of essential materiel could ever be moved by air, in the quantities and at the speed needed. It could only be done by sea. There were solemn, if not sombre expressions around the tactical floor.

‘What about STUFT?’ some youngster piped up. He was instantly in the spotlight of everyone’s baleful stares.

The eminent international lawyer cleared his throat quietly and explained, more patiently than some may have, that we had no mechanism for doing that, because unlike the UK, we had no national-flagged merchant fleet. None. Well, not that would be of much use in solving this problem. Then the NCAPS people had a say. Older than most of the rest of the audience, it turned out that they were the vestiges of Australia’s Merchant Navy. What they told us was sobering.

The only option was chartering ships, and their crews (almost invariably not Australian). These were two different matters. Being able to do either, and necessarily both, of course depended on the shipowners and the crew ‘owners’ being willing to sign contracts to provide those shipping services to the Australian government. And if a shooting war looked possible, insurance companies may well either refuse to provide cover or make it prohibitively expensive. What then? It quickly became obvious that, potentially, we were truly stuffed.

In 2023, notwithstanding a really important Labor policy, nothing much has changed. I was reminded of this recently during a holiday cruise in a small passenger ship off northern Australia. I was an unpaid working hand, not a paying passenger. The captain was the only Australian. He was a humble man and a mariner of considerably more professional expertise and experience than me and most of my navy colleagues. He reminded me of how important a national shipping capability was for security. The ship’s officers were mostly British, European or Asian, the domestic staff were from the Philippines and the rest of the crew were mostly Indonesians. Our pilot through the Great Barrier Reef was Indian. Don’t get me wrong—they were all excellent, professional seafarers. That’s not the point.

The simple point is this: if you stop the sea traffic on which we depend, Australia stops. Not slowly; not gradually. Very quickly. Our seaborne exports are one issue, but not the most critical one. If someone stops bulk ore or liquid natural gas ships from taking our export trade away, things will grind to a halt relatively slowly. But if someone prevents just a couple of ships from carrying our refined petroleum needs into our ports, Australia will shut down very fast indeed. The pain in our economy from expensive petrol would be nothing compared with the pain of having no petrol at all.

Some strategists point out that warships are easy to find and a cinch to sink these days—so why have any at all, they ask. One reason might be that in the part of the world in which we live, our survival depends on the huge numbers of ships that carry everything we need, in, out and in support of a fight if we face one. Perhaps we should be able to protect the most important of them. Perhaps we should also own our own ships, carrying at least some of the materials most vital for our survival as a nation.

A tiny island in the 1940s withstood the aggression of the most powerful military force the world had ever seen to that time. In large part, as Prime Minister Winston Churchill pointed out, they survived because of their ability to control a merchant fleet in their own national interest. That little island learned the same lesson again in 1982.

I applaud Peter Court for pointing out that it’s way past time we paid attention to that lesson too and learned from it. I commend that lesson to Australia’s navy, which should back the policy energetically. An Australian-flagged and Australian-crewed merchant navy would be a welcome partner in our national security, not a competitor or something to be feared.

Best we get on with it.

Nuclear-powered submarines for Australia: what are the options?

The political and strategic ramifications of the AUKUS pact involving the US, UK and Australia continue to reverberate, but the details of how Australia will acquire nuclear-powered submarines (SSNs) have often been overlooked. There are daunting technical, industrial and financial challenges on the long road to joining that club.

Even the acquisition of conventional submarines isn’t easy and projects completed on time and budget are rare. Nuclear propulsion adds another layer of complexity and cost, and the engineering challenge has been described as more demanding than building the space shuttle. There are good reasons why SSN ownership is limited to a small group of elite nations—the US, Russia, China, the UK, France and India. (With considerable French assistance, Brazil is on track to have its first nuclear boat in the late 2020s.)

The Royal Australian Navy’s conclusion that it needs SSNs makes complete sense. The distance from its bases to the likely areas of operation are considerable and even the best conventionally powered boat will take many more days to get into theatre. It’s around 5,500 kilometres from the RAN base near Perth to the South China Sea. The RAN will need to compete with China’s SSNs, which may not currently be of the quality of Western equivalents but progress with the surface fleet indicates that they’re likely to grow rapidly in quality and numbers over the next decade.

Some commentators suggest that Australia’s first boats at least could be bought off UK or US production lines. Alternatively, old or ‘surplus’ submarines could be leased until new vessels are available. These assumptions are at odds with the US Navy’s and Royal Navy’s struggles with bringing new boats into service and maintaining ageing vessels.

HMS Astute arrived at HMAS Stirling near Perth in October, the first of its class to berth in Australia. It was visited by the RAN chief, Vice Admiral Mike Noonan, and other dignitaries. There’s been talk of eventually operating an Astute-class sub from Australia when appropriate support facilities have been developed, but the tiny RN submarine force already has its hands full in the Euro-Atlantic.

Defence Minister Peter Dutton has said the RAN is considering leasing boats from the USN or RN but that’s far from a certainty. The RN is already severely short of active boats—nominally down to six SSNs, and able to field two or three on a good day. The USN is trying to maintain its existing force, struggling to build enough new Virginia-class SSNs while its Los Angeles-class boats are phased out. However supportive of Australia the UK may be, it has no suitable boats available to lease. The US has a far bigger fleet with 28 Los Angeles boats still active, but its force is already overcommitted and Washington is unlikely to offer anything, except perhaps a recently retired boat as a static training vessel.

Neither the US nor UK keeps submarines ‘in reserve’. The UK has already expensively extended the 1980s-vintage Trafalgar-class boats well past their 30th birthdays. None of the growing collection of decommissioned hulks could be returned to service with all the funds and will in the world. Their nuclear fuel is spent, and they would need colossally expensive refits and refuelling. More critically, submarines have finite hull lives. Every dive fatigues the pressure hull and pipework to a point where safe diving becomes severely restricted or the boat becomes unseaworthy. Older boats become increasingly hard to maintain and struggle to retain their all-important minimal acoustic signature.

The US has a more effective submarine dismantling program than the UK and its LA-class boats are gradually being scrapped. The inactive boats that remain intact are equally tired and some were withdrawn from service prematurely to avoid the cost of mid-life refuelling. There’s a slim chance that one or two of these boats could see further service with the RAN but only at enormous expense, and refitting them would put more strain on overburdened US industrial capacity.

RAN Vice Admiral Jonathan Mead has said, ‘It is our intention that when we start the build program, the design will be mature and there will be a production run already in existence.’

Some suggest the Astute’s the best solution, optimistically proposing that the first couple be built in the UK before technology transfer enables the remaining six to be made in Australia. In many ways, the Astute would appear to be ideal—it’s already in production, it would be far cheaper than the US options with smaller crews, and the vessels are highly rated. Unfortunately, there are almost insurmountable obstacles to the class ever numbering more than seven.

In the UK, completion of the remaining Astute-class boats is finely balanced with the construction of the Dreadnought-class ballistic missile submarines (SSBNs) and there’s not space in the shipyard or skilled people available to add additional boats. (If it were possible, then many would argue that the RN should buy more Astutes as priority one.)

BAE Systems and the specialist UK submarine supply chain broadly welcome the opportunity but are  still in the early stages of exploring how they can help Australia. People didn’t prepare for nuclear submarine exports and AUKUS was a bolt from the blue.

Assuming money was no object, new engineers could be recruited and the Barrow facilities could be enlarged, the project would still be in trouble because the Astute’s PWR-2 reactor no longer meets modern safety benchmarks and production has almost ceased. Reactors require very long lead times and reactor assembly begins well ahead of cutting steel for the hull. The RR nuclear manufacturing facility in Derby is being comprehensively rebuilt and production is now focused on the larger PWR-3 for Dreadnoughts and eventually the SSNR, which it’s believed will follow the Astute. (Design work on PWR-3 began as long ago as 2006.)

Even if additional PWR-2 reactors could be acquired and the Astute boats could be constructed in Australia, they’d be semi-obsolete when they began to arrive in service by the late 2030s. The Astute is among the world’s best SSNs and will continue to be the gold standard in stealth terms for another decade at least. However, the design, from the early 1990s, is likely to be superseded by the 2040s. The next generation of SSNs will need much greater capacity than the Astute to launch, recover and communicate with the unmanned underwater vehicles that will become an ever-growing part of the undersea battle.

The original Virginia design (Block I) is older than the Astute but has benefited from an iterative development program, with 34 boats built or on order to date. Among many improvements, from the Block III boats onwards, they have been fitted with two Virginia payload tubes (VPTs), vertical launch cells which can each hold six Tomahawk and other missiles, and, potentially, uncrewed vehicles. The latest Block IV boats have been stretched by 25 metres to include another four seven-cell VPTs.

About two Virginias are produced per year, although last year the USN announced a plan for an SSN force of 72–78 by the 2040s, which would require production to increase in the 2030s to about three per year, concurrent with building the very large Columbia-class SSBNs.

Although the USN benefits from an established design and an industrial base that’s vastly more efficient than that of the RN, the yards and supply chain will need to expand significantly to fulfil the ambitious plans to grow the USN fleet. A recent report to Congress noted that ‘observers have expressed concern about the industrial base’s capacity for executing such a workload without encountering bottlenecks or other production problems in one or both of these programs’.

The USN also has issues maintaining its existing submarines. The report says: ‘SSNs have had their deployments delayed due to maintenance backlogs at the Navy’s four government-operated naval shipyards which are the primary facilities for conducting depot-level maintenance work. Delays in deploying SSNs can put added operational pressure on other SSNs that are available for deployment.’

The latest Virginias have considerably greater land attack capability than the Astute and are more modern. But despite the economies of scale, they come with a significantly bigger price tag and have a crew of 132. The RAN is already short of people for its six Collins-class boats, which have just 58 crew. If the RAN were to acquire eight Virginia Block IV or equivalent, it would need a major recruitment and training effort. It’s estimated that the RAN needs 2,300 trained submariners. Achieving that number will take years and must allow for a typical wastage rate of about 30% of recruits dropping out or failing to qualify.

For the more senior roles, the process is even more demanding. It takes at least 16 years from initial entry to qualify as a nuclear submarine’s engineering officer. The RN and USN can certainly assist with submariner development and provide hands-on opportunities at sea. Both navies have very similar reactor technology and operating procedures, and RAN personnel would gain valuable experience on exchange with either navy, whatever SSN Australia selects.

Very little can be said with certainty about the US and UK future designs which are in the early concept phases. Both will probably feature aspects of the Columbia and Dreadnought SSBNs, be bigger than the boats they replace, and have x-tail hydroplane arrangements and turbo-electric drive instead of direct drive from their steam turbines.

If the RAN waits until at least 2040 for SSNs, partnering with one of these programs would make sense. The RAN would have input into the design from the outset and development costs could be shared along with economies of scale in the supply chain. The British boat will almost certainly be more affordable and there’s already synergy between BAE and Australian industry with the Hunter-class frigate. The US SSNX would be more costly but might be more attractive since US combat systems and weapons are used on the Collins-class boats. A US solution would also benefit from the relative proximity of Guam and Japan, where they could share support facilities.

When the AUKUS announcement was made, the Australian government promised to acquire at least eight nuclear submarines to be built by ASC in South Australia. There’s limited submarine building experience left at ASC since the Collins boats were completed in the early 2000s. The deal with the French to build Attack-class boats included technology transfer to regenerate the skills base. Whatever SSN design is selected, greater assistance will be needed from the UK or US. With limited nuclear infrastructure, Australia is unlikely to be able to enrich uranium to fuel the reactors. It’s likely that the reactor compartments will have to be imported pre-fabricated from the US or UK. The entire submarine enterprise will require Australia to establish a new safety and regulatory framework.

Australia will need to recruit, train and educate some of its brightest and best to build up a significant cadre of civilian engineers for construction and shoreside support tasks. Secondment of personnel to gain experience with BAE or with General Dynamics Electric Boat and Huntington Ingalls Industries should start as soon as possible. Personnel allocation must be carefully coordinated across the three nations. Poaching scarce technical staff from the UK or US with offers of well-paid jobs in sunny Australia would quickly cause friction and undermine AUKUS.

Besides the high-profile investment in the main construction facility, Australia will have to spend substantial sums on supporting infrastructure, including dry docks, jetties, weapons handling and storage facilities, and personnel accommodation. The 10 UK submarines require three nuclear-certified dry docks, two at Devonport and a covered ship lift at Faslane. This doesn’t include the construction facilities at Barrow and two docks dedicated to the disposal of old boats. Nuclear-certified docks and jetties are expensively overengineered to withstand once-in-a-lifetime seismic, tidal or storm events and have multiple redundancies in power and water supplies.

The UK demonstrated that such infrastructure can be created from scratch quickly during the 1960s Polaris project, but such works are major undertakings, costly and require highly competent management.

Former prime minister Malcolm Turnbull said of the AUKUS deal: ‘There is no design, no costing, no contract. The only certainty is that we won’t have new submarines for 20 years, and their cost will be a lot more than the French subs.’ This is broadly correct. The eventual acquisition of SSNs is possible, but there are many potential showstoppers. The single biggest factor will probably be just how much the US government is willing to prioritise industrial assistance to the RAN at the expense of growing and supporting its own submarine fleet. The US has only ever exported nuclear technologies to Britain and must amend its laws to do the same for Australia.

A couple of elderly SSNs might be available for lease in the 2030s, but realistically it will be the 2040s before the RAN has sufficient SSNs to exert a strategic effect. The geopolitical situation could be vastly different then, and growing Chinese power and influence won’t wait for others to attain parity. The Australian public will also have to buy in to a project needing political commitment for decades and the RAN will have to lean heavily on allies and provide an enormous budget to cover the true financial costs of nuclear ownership.

Astute versus Virginia: which nuclear-powered sub is the best fit for Australia?

Picking the right design for the Royal Australian Navy’s nuclear-powered submarines is extraordinarily complex and difficult choices will need to be made. There are two contenders, the Royal Navy’s Astute-class submarine and the US Navy’s Virginia-class submarine, which refers to the ‘Block V’ variant of the boat.

Both designs are very good, and in some respects they’re equal. Both are fitted with reactors that never need refuelling, both feature advanced pump-jet propulsors, both support Tomahawk cruise missiles and both will require Australia to field a rigorous no-fail regulatory and safety regime.

There are also numerous issues that will need to be considered by government, including fleet size, submarine service life, Australian defence self-reliance and Australian industry content.

This article highlights eight salient differences that will need consideration: design risk, size, crewing, payload, delivery, sustainment and operations, training regimes, and export controls.

First, the design risk. The Virginia natively supports the RAN’s presumably preferred AN/BYG-1 combat system and Mk-48 torpedoes, whereas the Astute doesn’t. Modifying the Astute to accommodate the RAN’s preferences could upset the fine-tuned space, weight, buoyancy, balance, power and cooling attributes, potentially triggering a cascade of unintended issues. Modifying existing designs can cost hundreds of millions and take years: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Alternatively, the RAN could accept the British combat system and Spearfish torpedoes.

Sizewise, both the Astute- and Virginia-class boats are larger than the conventionally powered Collins class. Accommodating either of them may require significant upgrades to Australian assembly halls, slipways, dry docks and berths, and that won’t be cheap. Astute-class vessels are 97 metres long and displace 7,800 tonnes, while Block V Virginias are 140.5 metres long and displace 10,364 tonnes. By contrast, Collins-class boats are 77.8 metres long and displace 3,407 tonnes.

A lower crew requirement is also desirable because finding crews of around 60 for Collins has been difficult. Astutes require a crew of around 90, whereas Virginias require a crew of around 130.

Block V Virginias have a significantly larger payload than the Astutes with the bonus ability to ripple-fire dozens of Tomahawks and support likely future payloads. The British sub only supports torpedo-tube-launched weapons, with a magazine of 38 Spearfish torpedoes and Tomahawks. The Virginia Block V carries around 65 weapons: 25 torpedo-tube-launched weapons, plus 12 Tomahawks in two payload tubes forward of the sail and 28 Tomahawks in four wide-diameter payload tubes aft of the sail. The Virginia’s wide-diameter payload tubes can also support future payloads such as autonomous vehicles, AIM-9X surface-to-air missiles and hypersonic boost-glide missiles.

If the US agreed, an initial batch of Virginia Block Vs could be acquired off the shelf and brought into Australian service relatively quickly, to facilitate RAN nuclear-safety and crew training, command courses and nuclear qualifications. Concurrently, a full production run of eight boats could take place in South Australia. A 2018 ASPI report determined that a ‘critical mass’ of 10 Australian SSNs would be required to sustain sufficient certified personnel, at sea and ashore.

This plan would require USN support in terms of reactor supervision, at least in the early years, and the allocation of USN production slots to the RAN—but only if the US amended its priorities. The USN operates 19 Virginia-class boats with plans for 66. This concept could work with the Astute, but it would require the UK to keep building them beyond the planned seven boats and to delay production of its new Dreadnought-class submarines.

The Virginia class might be easier to sustain and operate, given the USN’s rapidly expanding fleet and its resupply interoperability. Research and development of leading-technology upgrades is always costly and justifying high R&D costs might be more difficult if there are fewer boats of a certain type. If we assume that Australia eventually acquires eight to 10 SSNs, that would mean a total fleet of 17 Astutes versus 76 Virginias. In fact, the USN is already planning for a stealthier Virginia Block VI.

Wartime resupply is another issue for consideration: picking the Virginia would allow RAN and USN submarines to be resupplied with ordnance in Australia, Japan, Guam, Hawaii and San Diego. However, the UK is also part of AUKUS, so holding a cache of Spearfish torpedoes at select RAN/USN facilities would be advantageous at any rate.

Choosing the Astute class could potentially shorten the time required to grow the pool of Australian commanding officers and executive officers. RN COs and XOs are seaman officers who have completed the requisite nuclear systems course and are supported by specialist RN nuclear reactor engineers who don’t go on to command submarines. By contrast, USN COs and XOs are all nuclear reactor engineers who have stood watch over a submarine reactor at some point in their careers. This difference is significant because it could take 15 years for an Australian nuclear engineer to gain sufficient at-sea experience to become an Australian SSN CO.

The export-control factor is where choosing the Virginia might run into serious problems. The US State Department’s International Traffic in Arms Regulations (ITAR) rigorously govern the transfer of all American military technology. Under ITAR, naturalised Australian citizens could be deemed dual nationals and might have difficulty in obtaining US government approval. A person who is a dual national from a proscribed country would likely be rejected outright.

Ignoring ITAR isn’t an option because penalties are severe and extraterritorial—for example, a US$1 million fine per breach and/or 10 years in jail and/or placement on US government denial lists. Ultimately, the ITAR dual-national restriction is problematic because Australia is a country of immigrants. By contrast, the UK government’s export controls might be more flexible concerning dual nationals and particularly naturalised Australian citizens.

Regardless of the viewing angle, picking the optimal nuclear-powered submarine for Australia is incredibly technical, complex and difficult. Even the most optimistic delivery timeline will take years, and it’s likely to be 15 years before qualified Australians are able to run the boats in a self-reliant manner. Getting this decision right will determine how difficult it is for Australia to operate, sustain and maintain its SSNs well beyond the 2060s.

Few government decisions have so many long-term implications with so little margin for error. This is one of them.

Can Australia get second-hand nuclear submarines? The UK option

In case you’ve just arrived from Mars, the Australian government has announced it will acquire, with the assistance of the United States and United Kingdom, a fleet of nuclear-powered attack submarines (SSNs) that will be built in Australia. It has also said that the first submarine won’t be operational until the late 2030s. Since the government pre-emptively cancelled the Attack-class submarine program, the Collins class will need to serve as the core of the Royal Australian Navy’s submarine fleet into the 2040s.

The risk associated with operating a small fleet of very old boats, particularly as we are trying to increase to a much larger number of submariners, has already led to calls for a Plan B. One idea that has been raised many times involves the purchase or lease of used American or British SSNs to jump-start the transition to a nuclear fleet. Let’s look at the information that could inform a decision on that kind of option.

It’s reasonable to assume neither the US nor the UK will provide us with any existing boats from their new classes, the Virginia and Astute, respectively. The Royal Navy is now in the middle of a transition from the seven-boat Trafalgar fleet to the seven-boat Astute fleet. Four Astutes are in service, and the final three are in various stages of construction. The last is (rather optimistically) scheduled to enter service by 2026. Handing over even one Astute would put a huge dent in the RN’s capability.

The US Navy is building two Virginias each year and, so far, has around 20 in service. While the USN’s shipbuilding plans have been in flux, one constant element is that it wants to increase the size of its SSN fleet significantly as it’s one area where it retains a technological advantage over China. However, it’s facing a capability squeeze in the short to medium term as its older fleet of Los Angeles–class boats potentially retire faster than Virginias are built. It certainly isn’t looking to off-load Virginias.

We can’t say for certain that it won’t happen—presidents and prime ministers can make unpredictable decisions, as we’ve seen—but the point of AUKUS is to increase the three partners’ capability. Handing over an extremely scarce resource like an SSN to a country that doesn’t know how to operate it and doesn’t have the human or industrial resources to support it would be a net loss of capability to the partnership.

So that leaves our AUKUS partners’ older classes, the RN’s Trafalgar class and the USN’s Los Angeles class. The first thing we should emphasise is that safety is absolutely paramount in any submarine program, and even more so in a nuclear one. If a boat is no longer certified by the relevant authorities for safe operation, you can’t simply wish that away, cross your fingers and hope for the best. And since we don’t have the ability to certify it, the original owner will be assuming the liability. So, while an old nuclear boat might look like a good deal to us, it may not be a good deal for the original owner that would need to keep putting resources into an old class of boats it had hoped to move on from.

Let’s start with the UK option. The RN still has the last two of the original seven Trafalgar-class boats in service. Another has recently been laid up pending decommissioning. The average age of the three is 31, but the final two will have to keep going to meet up with the commissioning of the last Astutes, which has stretched out longer than planned. A detailed investigation would be needed to determine how serviceable they will be at that point. The reactor cores may have some life left in them, but it won’t be enough to bridge the gap to new Australian submarines being delivered in the late 2030s, at which point the last Trafalgars will be approaching 50. So they’d probably need to be refuelled and refurbished for Australian service.

The Trafalgar class was designed to be refuelled; the last refuel and refit was completed in 2011 and took six years at a cost of nearly £300 million. However, in light of the detailed reports into the risks the UK Ministry of Defence is facing in sustaining its current nuclear capabilities while delivering new ones, it’s not immediately obvious that 10 years down the track it will still have the ability to produce a new reactor core for the Trafalgar’s PWR1 reactor, which isn’t used on its other classes of nuclear submarines, or that its shipyards will have the capacity to do the work. But let’s assume it can be done and the UK refuels and refits the last two or three Trafalgar-class boats as they are replaced by the last Astutes. We’re still looking at the late 2020s for delivery of boats that would be close to 40 years old.

Another challenge is that the RN’s industrial base will have transitioned to support the Astute class, so we would be operating a tiny orphan fleet with no industrial base anywhere in the world to support it. We’re talking about not just the nuclear propulsion system but the thousands of other components on any submarine. It took Australia a couple of decades to really get the sustainment system for the Collins class working well, and we were in that for the long haul.

The Canadians went down the path of a small, orphan fleet when they acquired four second-hand conventional submarines from Britain when the RN decided it was only going to operate nuclear boats. Despite years of repairs and upgrades, the fleet didn’t achieve a single sea day in 2019. I know I tend to be a glass-half-empty person, but acquiring a small number of orphan boats sounds like a recipe for disaster.

In my next post, I’ll look at the US option.

Britain tilts towards the Indo-Pacific

Last month, British Prime Minister Boris Johnson announced a £16.5 billion (A$29 billion) increase in funding for the British Armed Forces, on top of an increase of 0.5% above inflation per year announced in the Conservative Party’s 2019 election manifesto. Combined, this means that the UK is due to spend £24.1 billion (A$42.4 billion) more than it was otherwise planning to before last year’s budget, representing the largest increase for defence since the Cold War. It also means that British defence spending will amount to £190 billion (A$334.5 billion) over the next four years, potentially taking the country from the world’s sixth largest to fourth largest military spender.

Undoubtedly, some of this money will be used to plug a £6 billion (A$10.6 billion) ‘black hole’ in the Ministry of Defence’s finances, a consequence of previous governments’ erroneous belief that ‘efficiency savings’ would provide sufficient resources to fulfil their strategic ambitions.

But most of the money will be used to upgrade the armed forces. Johnson announced some of the big-ticket items his government is planning to buy. Much of the funding will be used to push forward with the replacement of the Royal Navy’s nuclear submarines, critical in deterring hostile states like Russia—a mission that has new-found importance given the recent deployments of British conventional forces in Eastern Europe. Some of the money will be used to fund a new national cyber force, a new space command, and research into new systems and technologies, such as the future combat air system and directed-energy weapons, to improve the lethality and durability of the armed forces.

Investment in these areas chimes with the nature of the geopolitical challenge outlined in the UK’s Integrated operating concept 2025, published in late September. The document sets out a new model for UK forces to respond to a strategic context that is ‘increasingly complex, dynamic and competitive’ where ‘adversaries and rivals engage in a continuous struggle involving all of the instruments of statecraft, ranging from what we call peace to nuclear war’.

To meet this challenge, the concept asserts that the UK needs to move out of the shadows and into the limelight as a more active and determined global power. Chancellor Rishi Sunak’s decision last month to cut back on Britain’s bloated and unfocused aid budget and Foreign Secretary Dominic Raab’s move to channel the remainder into a more strategic international development program are further evidence of the change in thinking.

Together, the spending uplift and integrated operating concept provide the clearest evidence yet as to the geostrategic posture that the government’s ‘integrated review’ of foreign, defence and development policy, set to be published early in 2021, is going to recommend. This became clearer with Johnson’s assertion that some of the new defence funding would be used to uphold the Royal Navy’s position as ‘the foremost naval power in Europe’, mandating the construction of a new generation of frigate (the Type 32), in addition to the Type 26 and Type 31 classes already on order.

In short, the UK appears set to tilt further ‘east of Suez’—British strategic parlance for the Indo-Pacific—a move that has been underway for some time. Since the early 2010s, the UK has deepened its strategic relations with the Gulf states and the countries of Southeast Asia as well as Japan and Australia, while also moving to bolster its ‘strategic array’ of military facilities throughout the region, including in Bahrain and Oman.

The British naval presence in the Indo-Pacific has also become more persistent, most notably in August 2018 when the amphibious assault ship HMS Albion steamed through the Paracel archipelago en route from Tokyo to Hanoi. With this manoeuvre the Royal Navy became the only navy, other than the US Navy, to negate China’s illegitimate imposition of ‘straight baselines’ around the Paracel Islands in the South China Sea.

Britain’s Indo-Pacific tilt appears to have Johnson’s direct approval. As foreign secretary in 2016, he told an audience in Bahrain that the UK’s ‘policy of disengagement’ in the region during the 1960s and 1970s ‘was a mistake’ and that ‘in so far as we are now capable, and we are capable of a lot, we want to reverse that policy’. Indeed, last month he confirmed to the House of Commons, after much speculation, that the first of the Royal Navy’s new aircraft carriers, the 65,000-tonne HMS Queen Elizabeth—escorted by a full strike group—would visit the Indian and Pacific oceans during its maiden operational tour next year.

Of course, a good dose of realism is still needed. For obvious geographic reasons, Britain is never going to see the two parts of the Indo-Pacific as equally important, just as it is unlikely to come to see the wider region as its primary operating theatre in the way that Australia and Japan do—or even the US does. As an Atlantic power and a nuclear custodian of NATO, the UK is compelled to take a leading role in upholding the defence of Europe. So while new British military facilities might be opened in Southeast Asia and the presence of the Royal Navy and Royal Marines may become more permanent in the region, competing interests will compel the UK to balance carefully between its Euro-Atlantic and Indo-Pacific vocations.

Empowered by strengthened armed forces and a new geostrategic posture, ‘Global Britain’ is finally being fleshed out. Make no mistake, this is not about imperial nostalgia. It is about the future. Insofar as China’s interests, manifested through its energy needs and the Belt and Road Initiative, pull it westwards to the Middle East, Africa and even the Mediterranean and Eastern Europe, the UK’s two geostrategic priorities—the Euro-Atlantic and the Indo-Pacific—are almost certain to intersect.

And as Britain looks more towards the Indo-Pacific, its regional allies and partners will be compelled to realise that they are increasingly connected to the Euro-Atlantic. Indeed, if the Indo-Pacific is to be kept ‘free and open’, semi-external powers like the UK will need to be involved. It is therefore in the interests of Britain’s regional allies and partners to help draw it towards the Indo-Pacific. As regional strategic competition intensifies and the geopolitical environment sours, they will need all the help they can get.

The fall of Singapore—a maritime perspective

The fall of Singapore reflects failure at many levels, but not in the way most observers think. The British had to fight the war they got in 1939, rather than a war that was yet to happen in 1941. Had the Japanese attacked in the Far East before the Germans attacked Poland, the British would have sent their forces east, however reluctantly. But that wasn’t the order of events.

The greatest naval defeat the British suffered in World War Two wasn’t the destruction of the Prince of Wales and Repulse in the South China Sea in December 1941, but the fall of France in June 1940. By removing the French fleet from the Allied order of battle, bringing Italy into the conflict with its substantial naval strength, thus making the Mediterranean a theatre of war, and opening the French Atlantic ports to German U-Boats and surface raiders, France’s defeat made the load on British global naval strength more than could be borne. Britain’s strategic over-extension finally hit home.

The ‘Main Fleet to Singapore’ policy was a much more credible strategy than hindsight has allowed. Admittedly, there were deficiencies. The British build-up of forces and facilities was too slow, hindered by a combination of financial constraints and well-meant efforts at disarmament. Not enough was done to develop the land and air forces necessary for what would have always been a conflict fought both at sea and on land, notably in Malaya. The Dominions’ support, particularly in fighting forces, never matched the promises made at the 1923 Imperial Defence Conference.

But the British did many things to make the fleet deployment work. The logistic challenges were huge, but Middle East oil had not much further to move than it did for forces in British waters. The Singapore naval base build-up was fitful, but by 1928 a floating dock capable of taking a battleship was on station and a ‘Mobile Naval Base Defence Organisation’ was set up which could create an advanced base in the most isolated anchorages.

The British Navy regarded the Imperial Japanese Navy as its principal threat. Many assessments of Japanese capability were racist, but some were accurate, displaying understanding of the cultural elements involved. The British feared that the Japanese had superiority in several areas, particularly long range gunnery, and knew they had to evolve their own tactics with the assumption that the Royal Navy would be the weaker force.

Thus, at the same time as the Japanese were evolving night fighting techniques, the British were improving theirs. The long range Japanese torpedoes would have come as a surprise, but the British might have done rather well had they met the Japanese at the peak of their own training. The Royal Navy also didn’t underestimate Japanese naval aviation, at least its seaborne side. By 1934 Far East naval commanders were trying to convince their Air Force opposite numbers that they expected Japanese carriers to launch mass air strikes against Singapore from over 100 miles away. What the British didn’t understand, was that the IJN was also developing highly capable land based naval aircraft—such units would destroy Force Z in 1941.

The British knew they had to buy time for the Mediterranean Fleet and troops from India to get into theatre—the ‘period before relief’ (estimated in 1932 as 38 days). They had progressive ideas about this. Until well into 1940, the Royal Navy maintained a strong submarine force in the Far East. In 1939, this included 15 operational units, more than the combined total in the Home and Mediterranean Fleets. These boats practised wolf pack tactics in combination with RAF flying boats for the expected Japanese invasion convoys. In a precursor to the Cold War, they also conducted covert submerged intelligence gathering on the Japanese fleet in its own anchorages. One of Australia’s key failures was in going no further to develop the submarine flotilla it promised than the pair of boats commissioned in1927. So low did Australian defence spending fall that the RAN gave both submarines to the Royal Navy in 1931. There should have been six Australian boats blocking the deep water passages of the Indonesian archipelago, while British submarines operated in the South China Sea and around Japan.

The Abyssinian crisis was the first nail in the coffin for the ‘Main Fleet’ strategy. By 1938, capability developments were hammering in more. Until then, the potentially hostile navies had not the number of modern ships to threaten Britain. German and Italian warship completions rapidly changed the balance. Until then, the Japanese Navy could only field on average three carriers and six battleships. This had been manageable. During 1938, these deployable numbers increased by 50%. They would increase by another 50%—with more powerful ships—by the end of 1941.

The 1938 crises changed the British focus to Europe. After France’s collapse, holding on in the Mediterranean was a gamble based on the Japanese staying out of the war. But, in the circumstances of 1940, were there any options?

That the ‘play’ should have been properly explained to Australia, that Australia should have worked out the consequences for itself—and that Britain and Australia should have done more over two decades for their own defence and for the support of the ‘Main Fleet’ strategy with sea, land and air units must be the real ‘lessons’ of the affair for us.

Continuous naval shipbuilding in the UK

The first batch of three River-class OPVs (HMS Tyne, Severn and Mersey) were ordered for the Royal Navy in April of 2001, built in Southampton, and commissioned in the second half of 2003. A fourth, slightly larger vessel (HMS Clyde) was built in Portsmouth and commissioned in 2007 for patrol duties around the Falkland Islands. In October of 2014, barely eleven years after the HMS Tyne was delivered, steel was cut in Glasgow for the first of three new River-class vessels. Surprisingly, they’re expected to replace the first three by 2017–18.

Fifteen years is a short service life for large patrol vessel. It was indeed a brief history of (HMS) Tyne. The Royal Navy’s preceding patrol boats, the Island-class and Castle-class were in commission for 28 and 26 years respectively. Additionally, the UK government announced in the 2015 Strategic Defence and Security Review (PDF) that it would purchase a further two River-class OPVs, bringing the total fleet to six.

The rational Strategist reader might at this point be wondering why the UK is paying for five boats to replace three boats that arguably aren’t old enough to require replacement anyway. The answer is that block-building of the HMS Prince of Wales aircraft carrier ended in 2014 and construction of the Type-26 Frigates was due to begin in 2016. A Terms of Business agreement signed between the UK government, the MoD and BAE Systems in July 2009 guaranteed 15 years of work with a minimum expenditure of £230 million per year, on the grounds that ‘[t]his level of work was independently verified as the minimum level of work possible to sustain a credible warship building industry in the UK’.

In the absence of new ships to build during this time, the MoD decided to build three new River-class OPVs to retain shipbuilding skills and to justify the inescapable annual expense. The date for approval of the Type 26 to proceed to production (though not necessarily for the cutting of steel) has since been delayed to 2017 or later. Lo and behold, the Royal Navy will be getting two more River-class vessels. Even that doesn’t seem to be enough to avoid some serious pain for all involved, with promises to Scottish shipyards and uncertainty about the number of shipyard jobs causing the same sorts of political ructions we’ve experienced here in Australia.

An argument put forward is that the OPVs are ‘cheap’. Here’s what the UK Secretary of State for Defence had to say in 2013:

‘The marginal cost of these ships, over and above the payments the MOD would anyway have had to make to keep the yards idle, is less than £100 million…’

Well, OK, but the RN now has to crew and support them throughout their lives, with all of the future opportunity costs that will accrue. If you don’t actually need them, ‘cheap’ vessels can be expensive.

Since Australia is about to embark on continuous build strategy ourselves, it’s worth understanding how this all came to pass, to see what we might learn from the UK’s unhappy situation. The trouble is that it’s hard to see how we can avoid the same pitfalls. Once a continuous build is signed off, there’s a big political capital outlay and any future government will find it difficult to step away from the arrangement. Even if there are good reasons to do so, angry unions and state politicians will make sure that there’s little chance of economic or strategic rationalism carrying the day.

The construction of the River-class OPVs is only the latest example of shipyard continuity distorting decision making in the UK. An earlier example was when serious thought was being given to cancelling the second of the Queen Elizabeth-class aircraft carriers. The 2010 Strategic Defence and Security Review (PDF) left the fate of the second vessel to be decided in 2015. But the deliberations didn’t take long, and completion of the second carrier was confirmed only a few months later, based on a curious mix of sunk cost reasoning (over £3 billion had been spent by then), short term financial impact (while there would be a net saving, the immediate cancellation costs would hit in the current financial year) and a perceived need to provide continuous work for the naval shipbuilding sector. The MOD explained that it had

‘…to take into consideration the wider impact on the UK warship industry. Put simply, if one or both of the carriers were cancelled, and if the Government wished to retain a UK capability for the design and manufacture of complex warships, then alternative replacement work would need to be found.’

The rational approach in this situation, or the ‘valley of death’ caused by slippage of Type 26 design work, is to work out the costs of stopping and restarting and compare it to the cost of confecting work. But once you lock in a guaranteed line of work, especially if you reinforce it with guaranteed payments, it’s hard to even have that conversation.