In December 1941, it became apparent  to most world naval authorities that battleships would not play the role naval doctrine expected them to play.  The vulnerability of battleships to the striking power of aircraft carriers meant that the latter would displace the former as the premier capital ship.  However, most navies still possessed an abundance of battleships of various ages and configurations.  Through the next three years the navies worked through more and less effective ways of using these legacy warships. The USN did very well, ascertaining that battleships could play an important support role for carriers, as well as provide devastating shore bombardment.  The Imperial Japanese Navy did less well, husbanding its battleships for a day of confrontation that never arrived.

What is the modern equivalent of the battleship-as-legacy-weapon?  Weapons designed in the 1950’s continue to operate in the preeminent militaries in the Western Pacific, serving alongside systems developed in the digital age.  The critical tasks for defense planners are to a) realize that the older weapons no longer play the roles they were intended to play, and b) determine how such weapons can nevertheless find a useful role alongside more technologically advanced systems.

We already know some of the legacy weapons that states could employ in combat in the Western Pacific. One good bet is the non-stealth air superiority and strike fighter. The extant forces of the United States, Japan, China, Russia, and the Koreas include vast numbers of such “legacy” systems.  While the F-22 has supplemented Cold War F-15s and F-16s, the latter still compose a substantial portion of the frontline fighting force of the USAF. The ROKAF and the Japanese Air Self Defense Force also continue to use such legacy aircraft in a frontline role.  On the (presumptive) other side, it will take a very long time for the PLAAF to replace its legacy systems with the J-20 or J-21, assuming that either design ever reaches production status. 

The United States already has considerable experience pressing legacy systems into new roles. The B-1B Lancer, originally intended as a low-level, supersonic strategic penetration bomber, now drops precision guided munitions on small groups of Taliban fighters in Afghanistan.  The B-52, which first entered service in the 1950’s, is simply a marvel.  More recently, the USN has repurposed several of the Ohio class nuclear ballistic missile submarines for conventional cruise missile missions.  The USS Florida, for instance, made a critical contribution to the NATO effort in Libya, supplying cruise missiles for the initial strikes on the Libyan air defense network.

The PLAN is full of legacy systems.  While its newest submarines and surface ships appear competitive with some Western designs, ships built or designed before the fall of the Soviet Union (and consequently prior to the flood of Russian technology into China) continue to constitute a substantial portion of the fleet.  For example, over a dozen Ming-class submarines (designed during the Cultural Revolution) remain in service, at least in training roles.  And as Feng (a blogger at Information Dissemination and China Air and Naval Power) points out, Sovremenny class destroyers and Kilo class submarines purchased from Russia in the early 2000’s remain poorly integrated into the fleet. Determining how such ships could contribute to naval operations poses a major challenge for the PLAN. 

When the lifespans of weapons run over half a century (as with the B-52 Stratofortress, the KC-135 tanker, MiG-21, and likely the Nimitz class aircraft carrier), legacy systems present a more imposing problem for future war planners than they did in World War I or World War II.  The strategic conditions under which every nation of East Asia operated by even 30 years ago have changed irrevocably, while the weapons remain the same. Determining how to field a force that integrates not only organizations but also generations of systems into a coherent plan of action represents a remarkably complex test for planners (not to mention politicians) on all sides.

South Korea announced on Sunday it had reached a new agreement with the U.S. that allows it to substantially extend the range of its ballistic missiles to 800 km and to greatly increase the payload of shorter-range missiles. The move, which has been described as a means to increase South Korea’s deterrence capability vis-à-vis North Korea, could make other countries within the region, particularly Taiwan, seek a similar lifting of restrictions.

A 2001 accord signed between Seoul and Washington prevented the South Korean military from developing ballistic missiles with ranges of more than 300km and payloads exceeding 500kg (prior to that agreement, the maximum range was 180km, but North Korea’s test-firing of a Taepodong-1 missile over Japan in 1998 encouraged the change). The 2001 arrangement, which reflected the guidelines stipulated in the Missile Technology Control Regime (MTCR), a voluntary mechanism principally meant to curb nuclear proliferation and the means to deliver nuclear warheads, held for years as Washington feared lifting it would spark an arms race in Asia.

Pyongyang’s continued efforts to develop long-range missiles and nuclear technology, however, appear to have convinced the U.S. of the virtues of having its local ally bolster its own deterrence capabilities. Under the revised regulations, South Korea’s ballistic missiles will be able to cover the whole of North Korea (its cruise missiles are exempt from those rules). The 800km cap nevertheless ensures that South Korea’s ballistic missiles won’t be able to threaten other countries like China and Japan. While the extended-range will be restricted to payloads of no more than 500kg, the revised agreement also permits shorter-range missiles to carry payloads weighing as much as 2 tons. The new agreement also allows South Korea to extend the range and payload (up to 2.5 tons) of its unmanned aerial vehicles, and to equip them with weapons.

According to South Korean National Security Adviser Chun Yung-woo, the new policy is intended to help curb provocations by Pyongyang, while a spokesperson for President Lee Myung-bak maintains that the change does not signify an imminent change in strategy. On Monday, however, local media reported, citing an unnamed government official, that South Korea plans to build two new ballistic missiles with ranges of 550 and 800 km by 2015.

It remains to be seen whether the agreement and new missiles will boost Seoul’s deterrence capabilities. But it nonetheless signifies a greater willingness on Washington’s part to allow regional allies to strengthen their military capabilities, a policy that could in fact dovetail with the U.S. “pivot” to Asia (the so-called pivot need not limit itself to the increased presence of U.S. forces in the region, and could include a shift in policy vis-à-vis the ability of key allied nations to boost their capabilities, possibly with U.S. assistance).

Taiwan is another U.S. ally within the region that is sure to draw lessons from this development. Much like South Korea, for years Taiwan has sought to increase its deterrence through missile deployments. In Taiwan’s case, Washington has applied the same rules on range and warheads, though the island’s program has focused primarily on cruise missile technology — the Hsiung Feng (“Brave Wind”) family of missiles developed by the Chung Shan Institute for Science and Technology (CSIST). Although the Hsiung Feng has been designed to principally play an anti-ship role (HF-1, HF-2 and the HF-3 “carrier killer”), efforts to develop a longer-range land-attack cruise missile (LACM), the HF-2E, with a range of about 650km, were initiated and immediately ran into strong resistance from Washington. Some defense experts alleged the decision to proceed with the program may have resulted in the initial refusal to sell Taiwan the 66 F-16C/Ds it has been seeking since 2006, as well as the denial of visas for senior officials at CSIST. It is also rumored that Washington’s disapproval of the program may have led to the cancellation of an indigenous space-launch vehicle program.

The crisis over Taiwan’s plans to develop LACMs was briefly exacerbated after senior officials in the Chen Shui-bian administration, as well as a handful of American academics, warned that they could be used against Chinese urban centers, or even the Three Gorges Dam, should China attack the island. Since then, Taiwanese officials have made it clear that the missiles would be used strictly as a counterforce component — in other words, against purely military targets.

The Taiwanese military has nevertheless forged ahead with development and production of the HF-2E, and is expected to begin mass-production of the Wan Chien (“Ten Thousand Swords”) standoff long-range air-to-ground missile, to be outfitted on the upgraded F-CK-1 “Ching Kuo” Indigenous Defense Fighter, in 2014. The main function of the Wan Chien, which can reportedly contain as many as 100 secondary bomblets, will be for suppression attacks on enemy airfields, ports, missile sites, and radar positions.

With both South Korea and Taiwan, the restrictions imposed by Washington also stemmed from a reluctance to allow the development or acquisition of offensive missile technology lest this escalate tensions in the Korean Peninsula and the Taiwan Strait, respectively. If Pyongyang learns to live with its neighbor’s greater missile capabilities, and more importantly, if such capabilities do increase deterrence, Washington could in turn be more inclined to extend a similar advantage to Taiwan.

The rapid expansion of ties between Taiwan (Republic of China) and China (People’s Republic of China) over the last decade is altering the trajectory of cross-Strait peace. While conditions for peace are increasing for the near term, the challenges in the mid-to-long term continue to grow and will require a readjustment in the way Washington approaches cross-Strait relations. To be sure, all sides agree on the need to maintain the current “status quo” in the Taiwan Strait – but there is a caveat: each side has their own interpretation of what that “status quo” means.

Indeed, Washington, Taipei and Beijing define the “status quo” differently. But Washington seems to be the only one without a clear definition or a clear strategy of how to maintain this “status quo.” Its absence in Washington, however, is belied by U.S. policymakers’ pursuit of “strategic ambiguity” (a policy which has been in the U.S. playbook for the past three decades) in managing cross-Strait relations. Washington’s conflict management approach has been useful to the extent that it has militated against the probability of conflict across the Taiwan Strait by deterring China from invading Taiwan and deterring Taipei from declaring de jure independence during a volatile and highly transitional time period – but such a strategy is limited in the effect it has on securing long term peace in the region.

A statement by a former high-level U.S. official back in 2004 captures Washington’s ambiguous position on the “status quo”:

“In the House International Relations Committee on April 21 of 2004, the Assistant Secretary of State for East Asian and Pacific Affairs, James A. Kelly, was asked by Rep. Grace Napolitano (D-CA) whether America’s commitment to Taiwan’s democracy conflicted with the so-called One-China Policy. He admitted the difficulty of defining the U.S. position: ‘I didn’t really define it, and I’m not sure I very easily could define it.’ He added, ‘I can tell you what it is not. It is not [emphasis added] the One-China principle that Beijing suggests.’”

While such official statements reflect the different interpretations of the “status quo” between Washington and Beijing, such ambiguity does not necessarily serve U.S. interests in the long term since it is based on a flawed premise guiding Washington’s views of cross-Strait relations. These scales are preventing policymakers in Washington from shaping a course of action in the Taiwan Strait which could be more conducive to its values and interests in the region. To be sure, there is a bureaucratic tendency in Washington to observe events in the Taiwan Strait in binary terms: independence or unification, ergo war or peace respectively. The line of argument goes: If Taiwan asserts de jure independence, then Beijing – under its anti-secession law of 2005 – would invade Taiwan. Alternatively, if the two sides of the Taiwan Strait were to unify, then there would be peace. This is a false choice – and one that plays into Beijing’s hand.

Furthermore, this view does not hold water since Taiwan is neither moving toward so-called independence nor unification, and the belief that it is in Washington only hamstrings the latter’s ability to exploit the opportunities that exist in the current situation. In other words, U.S. policy has become shackled to the mirage of inevitability. Moreover, the strategy is inherently reactionary and prohibits Washington from taking action that could secure its interest by forfeiting its decision-making to Beijing. And based on the increasing power disparity in the Taiwan Strait, Beijing defines what it means to be independent and what unification means. In other words, Beijing defines the terms for peace and war. This kind of “status quo” is unsustainable.

To be sure, over the last decade, there appears to have been a fundamental shift in the Taiwanese electorates’ attitude that all political parties vying for power would have to accept. Specially, Taiwanese voters’ have moved away from supporting either “unification” or “independence” as immediate political goals. In fact, according to a September 2011 public opinion poll conducted by Taiwan’s Mainland Affairs Council, that asked respondents their positions on cross-Strait relations, 87.2 percent stated they support maintaining the “status quo,” while only a combined 7 percent of respondents indicated they want unification or independence “as soon as possible.” According to a more recent August 2012 poll, the Taiwan Mood Barometer Survey (TMBS) by Taiwan Indicators Survey Research (TISR) -- a new polling agency-- only 18.6 percent of Taiwanese say the two sides of the Taiwan Strait should “eventually” unify, while 66.6 percent disapprove of the path toward unification. Taiwan is a status quo power, China is not.

In light of these polls, it is perhaps explicable that the People’s Republic of China – a one party authoritarian regime that has been consistent in its ultimate goal of unifying Taiwan with the “motherland” by force if necessary – would see Taiwan in only black and white terms. After all, Taiwan, under its current ROC constitutional framework, exists as an independent and sovereign state. This is an objective reality. As defined by the 1933 Montevideo Convention on Rights and Duties of States, "state as a person of international law should possess the following qualifications: a) a permanent population; b) a defined territory; c) government; and d) capacity to enter into relations with the other states." Taiwan possesses all four of these attributes. America’s lack of formal relations with Taiwan doesn’t change this fact. Indeed, the Convention stipulates that "the political existence of the state is independent of recognition by the other states." Furthermore, "the recognition of a state may be express or tacit. The latter results from any act which implies the intention of recognizing the new state."

In other words, the very existence of the ROC presents an existential threat to the People’s Republic of China (PRC) since it provides a legitimate alternative model for China’s future besides the one offered by the Chinese Communist Party. As the song during the Cultural  Revolution-era musical “The East is Red” constantly reminded its people: "Without the Communist Party, There Would Be No New China." By virtue of the fact that the PRC is a Party-State, then by extension, the existence of the ROC and democracy in Taiwan would be delegitimizing for the CCP, since Taiwan provides an alternative model for the Chinese political system.

In light of the widening sovereignty gap in the Taiwan Strait, however, these changes require a careful rethink in Washington over how it has traditionally viewed the expectations, probability and consequences of events in the Taiwan Strait. At the core of the issue is the interpretation of the “status quo” in Washington. Beijing’s strategy is clear, and there appears to be an emerging societal consensus about the “status quo” in Taiwan, therefore there needs to be a more accurate corresponding representation of it in Washington. Refusal to address the widening “sovereignty gap” in the Taiwan Strait will become a real source of instability in the mid-to-long term. Creeping abandonment of U.S. support for Taiwan's sovereignty, defined in terms of the Republic of China (Taiwan), has the potential to create growing resentment on both sides of the political spectrum in Taiwan – and thus greater uncertainty in the Taiwan Strait. It could lead to Taipei to take dramatic measures to ensure its survival.

The U.S. pivot toward Asia necessitates a rebalancing in the Taiwan Strait. Although all sides may agree on the necessity of engagement, the expectations attached to these interactions diverge. Ever since Taiwan President Ma Ying-jeou won a second term in Jan. 2012, Beijing has begun to push for a peace treaty. However, in light of the seeming “improvement” in stability in the Taiwan Strait over the past four years, Washington’s inclination could conceivably be to keep doing more of the same. Yet, Washington’s absent strategy for effecting a desirable outcome is leading to a widening “sovereignty gap” in the Taiwan Strait. While Beijing continues to reserve the right to use force, and subjugate the ROC (Taiwan) under the PRC, this could create a fait accompli leading to the absorption of Taiwan under the People’s Republic of China. If left unaddressed, the breakdown of the modus vivendi between Taiwan and China would lead to outright of hostility between Beijing and Taipei over the sovereignty of the two republics. 

In the final analysis, then, the solution for enduring peace and stability in the Taiwan Strait should be the active promotion of trust, equality, and dignity in a manner consistent with U.S. policy and values. Gradual adjustments in U.S. policy to reflect a more accurate representation of the “status quo” that recognizes the objective reality in the Taiwan Strait would address the widening “sovereignty gap,” rebalance the power disparity and secure long-term peace in the Taiwan Strait.

L.C. Russell Hsiao is a Senior Research Fellow at Project 2049 Institute in Washington, D.C. H.H. Michael Hsiao is Distinguished Research Fellow and Director of the Institute of Sociology, Academia Sinica in Taiwan.

Over the past year Australia has been paying greater attention to Indonesia, as evident from the more frequent official engagements, as well as  new diplomatic and defense initiatives. Stronger ties are already reflected in the language Australian leaders have been using to describe Indonesia, with officials like Defense Minister Stephen Smith referring to Indonesia as a “strategic partner.”

But it appears that there’s some way to go before “strategic partner” becomes more than just a term of endearment. For instance, Australia's 2009 Defense White Paper (for the time being still the government’s defense strategic policy) displays a curious ambivalence towards Indonesia. According to the White Paper, Australia has a “fundamental interest in controlling the air and sea approaches to our continent” (paragraph 5.5). But in reference to a secure immediate neighborhood, it says Australia should prevent or mitigate “nearby states [from] develop[ing] the capacity to undertake sustained military operations within our approaches” (paragraph 5.8). There’s a contradiction there, as Hugh White notes in his Security Challenges essay (PDF): it may very well be those same capabilities Indonesia requires to ensure its own security in its northern approaches that could be instrumental in helping both Indonesia and Australia secure their mutual strategic interests.

In short, the language of the 2009 Defense White Paper simply doesn’t match Australian leaders’ characterization of Indonesia as a strategic partner. And although there are asymmetries in the two sides' capabilities, a strategic partnership means encouraging Indonesia to grow in a way that complements Australia's strengths and compensates for its weaknesses so that the two sides can work together. Actively seeking to mitigate or prevent Indonesia from acquiring particularly capacities will not allow it to play an important role in Australia's strategic future.

To be sure, this might have been justifiable in white papers released after Konfrontasi (during which Australia and Indonesia found themselves on opposing sides of the conflict), or shortly after the 1999 East Timor intervention, during which time Australia's relations with Indonesia were more fractious and the latter's military (TNI) was only just exiting Indonesian politics. But times have changed.

On the domestic front, Indonesia is a much more stable, democratic state. In economic terms Indonesia is now starting to flex its muscles, with an annualized GDP growth rate of 6.4% in the second quarter of 2012, an economy that is larger than Australia’s in purchasing power parity terms, and a middle class that is larger than Australia’s entire population. Furthermore, the Indonesian armed forces no longer exert the same level of direct influence on politics and there’s a greater commitment to crack down on corruption.

In regional terms, Indonesia enjoys greater clout and has attracted the attention of international partners such as the United States, the United Kingdom and China. Recent participation in the RAAF-hosted Exercise Pitch Black 2012 shows Indonesia’s willingness to engage with partners such as Australia by sending their newest aircraft to build person-to-person ties and to dispel any doubts about their military intentions.

Barring a significant change in the trajectory of Indonesia's growth and domestic transformation, this is likely to become an enduring externality for Australian policy. Nonetheless, it’s worth thinking through the factors that could cause problems for Indonesia down the road. These include: reduced economic growth, a more internally-oriented leadership, and a deteriorating domestic stability. The pertinent question, however, is whether these eventualities would adversely affect the Indonesia–Australia relationship over the long term, or merely slow the engagement temporarily? It seems clear that the relationship between Indonesia and Australia is irreversibly charting upward over the long term. A nationalist President of Indonesia would be a concern for Australia, but wouldn’t necessarily require a radical rewrite of Indonesia’s place in Australia’s strategic interests. In any case, as one RSIS commentator notes (PDF), currently nationalism is not a cause for concern.

Likewise, Australia can cause ructions over livestock, people smuggling or the incarcerations of Australians, but the two countries’ share some fundamental interests that should ultimately prevail over these obstacles. In terms of shifting regional geopolitics, Australia and Indonesia have much in common as both countries try to navigate China’s rise and the U.S. rebalance. A Defense Cooperation Agreement signed recently between Australia and Indonesia provides a framework for practical cooperation on common security matters like these, but it’s time to explore the bigger, more long-term strategic questions about the region.

Indonesia demands different handling in the next Defense White Paper, which is as much an opportunity as the Asian Century White Paper to correctly recognize Indonesia’s place. Language matters, because it sends a strong signal to both the Australian and Indonesian people about how leaders see each country’s place in the region. And while the majority of everyday people in each country may not delve into the pages of the White Paper, setting the tone for political interaction as well as doing away with ambiguous language remains important. Hopefully the 2013 White Paper will articulate Indonesia’s importance and elevate it to partner status rather than treat it as a subordinate. That sort of constructive language would remove the disparity between the language of the 2009 White Paper and the increasing importance of close defense relations and alignment of strategic interests between the two nations.

The White Paper might start by recognizing how Indonesia complements Australia's capabilities, strengths and weaknesses. Or it could, as Hugh White suggests, address Indonesia separately from the rest of the “our neighborhood” section to recognize the important role it plays in Australia’s strategic environment. While there’s no prospect of a formal alliance between the two sides for the foreseeable future, it would provide a more robust basis in Australia's national policy to give a broader context to new initiatives such as the recently signed Defense Cooperation Agreement.

Defense Minister Smith assures us that he is “committed to regular, open and transparent discussions with Indonesia on the development of Australia’s 2013 Defense White Paper.” Let’s hope the final cut pays them the same due respect.

Natalie Sambhi is an analyst at ASPI and editor of The Strategist, where this piece first appeared.

Recent forays by North Korean fishing vessels across the disputed Northern Limit Line and DPRK Vice Minister Park Kil-yon’s statement that a “spark” could set off nuclear war on the Korean peninsula are again raising questions about what North Korea will do next, and when.

North Korea’s 2009 multi-stage rocket launch and nuclear test, the 2010 sinking of the Cheonan and shelling of Yeonpyeong Island, and the April 2012 failed rocket launch have stimulated speculation among North Korea watchers about the nature and timing of North Korea’s next provocation.  Many analysts who based their expectations on North Korea’s 2009 pattern anticipated that a third nuclear test might immediately follow the failed rocket launch last April. A quiet summer proved them wrong.

However, North Korea’s recent words and actions have renewed speculation over an impending provocation. There are four main schools of thought regarding North Korea’s next move:

1)      The October/November Surprise School:  According to this school of thought, we are entering the prime moment of opportunity for North Korea to take advantage of Chinese, American, and South Korean distraction and preoccupation with their own elections and domestic leadership transitions.  The North Korean leadership may believe that saber rattling will remind neighboring publics that North Korea is a threat.  Provocations may be perceived as an opportunity to influence electoral results in North Korea’s favor.

This logic suggests that an inter-Korean incursion is more likely than a nuclear or missile test given the history of North Korean efforts to influence South Korean elections (known as the North Wind, or bukpung), but the new North Korean leadership under Kim Jong-un could also use a missile and/or nuclear test to raise the level of crisis and dramatize the perceived failures of the current South Korean administration, while anticipating that a charm offensive with South Korea’s next government could complicate international coordination strategies for containing North Korea’s nuclear program.

2)       The Testing Leadership School:  According to this school of thought, the most likely window for a new North Korean provocation is early next year, and would be designed to test new governments in Washington and Seoul (as well as Beijing).  North Korea’s unilateral actions would dramatize the severity of the threat, affirm North Korea’s nuclear status and capabilities, and place North Korea’s challenge to the international community front and center as an important new reality that the international community must accept.

Such a test would magnify North Korea’s threat in the minds of counterparts and would reinforce the impression that the task of reversing North Korean existing nuclear capabilities is remote.  The last time South Korea and the United States managed near-simultaneous transitions in administrations was 1993, at which time North Korea announced its withdrawal of from the Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty in a move that catalyzed direct talks with Washington over the head of Seoul.  North Korea’s leadership may feel that an early crisis, especially in the event that there are two new leaders in Washington and Seoul, would be an enticing environment in which Pyongyang can irreversibly establish itself as a nuclear weapons state.

3)      The Capabilities and Needs School:  According to this school of thought, the main driver for North Korean provocations is a combination of North Korea’s own technical capabilities and internal political needs.  North Korea launches rockets and conducts nuclear tests when it is technically ready to do so, and those decisions are made with little regard for external political circumstances.  Likewise, if North Korea’s leadership identifies an exploitable South Korean vulnerability, there is little that external actors will be able to do to deter the North from taking advantage.  Since North Korea’s motivations are internally driven with little regard for the views of external actors, there are few early warning signs available to foreign observers that might be used to signal a provocation, and there is little that external actors will be able to do to prevent one.

4)      The North Korea-is-Reforming (aka Disney) School:  According to this school of thought, North Korea’s new leadership under the young Kim Jong-un has thrown away North Korea’s old playbook and understands that North Korea’s new game is not to provoke, but to move toward economic reform.  Now that North Korea’s nuclear capabilities are enshrined as part of Kim Jong-il’s legacy and are reportedly written into the constitution, North Korea has nothing more to prove in any event, and the international community will just have to get over it.

The face of North Korean reform will allow North Korea to draw needed capital into the country and will “normalize” perceptions of North Korea.  A reforming North Korea would make their possession of a nuclear capability appear to be less menacing and would allow North Korea to push its agenda with the United States and its neighbors toward economic reform and peace, potentially at the expense of denuclearization.  International pressure against North Korea would be blunted, while North Korea would retain an unchecked and slowly growing nuclear weapons capability as a “deterrent” against perceived “U.S. hostility.”  The downside of this school lies with the strong conventional wisdom that North Korean reform will result in unmanageable risks and destabilization of the current system.  In which case, the specter of reform plus system collapse that is so deeply entrenched as an article of faith among most North Korea watchers might constitute North Korea’s last and biggest provocation of all.

The South Korean military has been ordered to prepare for future provocations. While North Korea watchers may speculate on DPRK’s next move, the Kim Jong-un regime can be certain of a strong ROK response. Who is ready for what? – only time will tell.

Scott A. Snyder is senior fellow for Korea studies and director of the program on U.S.-Korea policy at the Council on Foreign Relations. He was previously a senior associate in the international relations program of The Asia Foundation and Pacific Forum CSIS. He blogs at Asia Unbound, where this piece originally appeared.

With the world’s attention focused on a potential confrontation between China and Japan in the East China Sea, a third player has built what may be the most powerful ship-for-ship fleet in Northeast Asia.  Over the past fifteen years, the Republic of Korea Navy (ROKN) has expanded dramatically, acquiring a substantial fleet of modern, powerful warships. While the ROKN continues to prepare for the contingency of conflict with North Korea, it has become a force capable of significant foreign deployment.  If Seoul maintains its commitment to the Navy, the ROKN could become one of the world’s premier middle power navies. 

Since 1953, North Korea has posed the central strategic problem for the ROKN.  The sinking of the Cheonan and the DPRK’s bombardment of offshore islands in 2010 served as harsh reminders of the maritime aspects of the North Korea dilemma.  New designs (especially frigates) suggest a renewed emphasis on anti-submarine warfare. However, many of the capabilities of South Korea’s new warships seem geared towards global contingencies, rather than being designed to meet specific North Korean threats.

The Aegis equipped Sejong the Great (KD-III) class destroyers, for example, compare favorably with American, Japanese, and Chinese designs, carrying more missiles in VLS cells than their foreign counterparts.  Although quite capable of engaging North Korea in a strike, air defense, or missile defense capacity, the three ships of the class represent a much more substantial commitment to surface warfare than the threat of the DPRK demands. 

Similary, the Dokdo class amphibious warships suggest a maritime focus extending well beyond the Korean Peninsula.  Like many amphibious warships, the 18,000 ton Dokdo strongly resembles a small aircraft carrier. As British and French operations in Libya last year demonstrated, amphibious warships can become strike vessels through the addition of attack helicopters.  Although South Korea does not currently participate in the F-35B project, the prospect of flying the STOVL fifth generation fighter from Dokdo (or potentially from Dokdo’s successors) undoubtedly appeals to some South Korean defense planners.  However, even if the tremendous expense of acquiring and operating such fighters proves daunting, the light carriers could someday employ Unmanned Aerial Vehicles (UAVs) optimized for strike and reconnaissance roles.  In any case, the Dokdos give South Korea a plausible expeditionary capability.

South Korea’s robust shipbuilding industry (the world’s largest) helps support and underwrite the ROKN’s expansion and modernization. Four Dokdos and six KD-IIIs are planned, although actual construction may not match these numbers.  If it does, however, this would represent one of the most potent naval warfare squadrons in the world, potentially capable of conducting many different missions in the region.  The KD-IIIs and Dokdos are supported by a force of nine modern large frigates (designated destroyers), all displacing from 3500-6000 tons and specialized for surface and sub-surface warfare.  Another fifteen 3000 ton frigates are in the ROKN’s plans.

Much like the PLAN, the ROKN has taken advantage of every opportunity to develop experience with distant, long-term deployments.  South Korea is a regular participant at RIMPAC, as well as other significant multilateral exercises.  Also like the PLAN and the Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force (JMSDF), the ROKN has maintained a continuous presence in support of CTF 151’s anti-piracy operations off the coast of Somalia. 

All of this suggests that the ROKN is built for exigencies well beyond war on the Peninsula.  Naval vessels of the sort operated by South Korea (small carriers and the modern-day equivalent of battleships) carry a high prestige value.  This signals to both domestic and international audiences that Seoul is to be taken seriously on the international stage.  However, the fleet also represents a hedge against the possibility that South Korean relations with its larger neighbors may deteriorate.  The capabilities the ROKN is currently pursuing could operate abroad in expeditionary and humanitarian relief operations, or could help protect South Korea’s maritime lifelines.  In any case, the tendency to focus exclusively on the navies of China and Japan misses out on one of the most important new players in the Northeast Asian maritime scene. 

It’s almost impossible nowadays to attend a law-enforcement or defense show that does not feature unmanned vehicles, from aerial surveillance drones to bomb disposal robots, as the main attraction. This is part of a trend that has developed over the years where tasks that were traditionally handled in situ are now operated remotely, thus minimizing the risks of casualties while extending the length of operations.

While military forces, police/intelligence agencies and interior ministries have set their sights on drones for missions spanning the full spectrum from terrain mapping to targeted killings, today’s unmanned vehicles remain reliant on human controllers who are often based hundreds, and sometimes thousands of kilometers away from the theater of operations. Consequently, although the use of drones substantially increases operational effectiveness — and, in the case of targeted killings, adds to the emotional distance between perpetrator and target — they remain primarily an extension of, and are regulated by, human decisionmaking.

All that could be about to change, with reports that the U.S. military (and presumably others) have been making steady progress developing drones that operate with little, if any, human oversight. For the time being, developers in the U.S. military insist that when it comes to lethal operations, the new generation of drones will remain under human supervision. Nevertheless, unmanned vehicles will no longer be the “dumb” drones in use today; instead, they will have the ability to “reason” and will be far more autonomous, with humans acting more as supervisors than controllers.

Scientists and military officers are already envisaging scenarios in which a manned combat platform is accompanied by a number of “sentient” drones conducting tasks ranging from radar jamming to target acquisition and damage assessment, with humans retaining the prerogative of launching bombs and missiles.

It’s only a matter of time, however, before the defense industry starts arguing that autonomous drones should be given the “right” to use deadly force without human intervention. In fact, Ronald Arkin of Georgia Tech contends that such an evolution is inevitable. In his view, sentient drones could act more ethically and humanely, without their judgment being clouded by human emotion (though he concedes that unmanned systems will never be perfectly ethical). Arkin is not alone in thinking that “automated killing” has a future, if the guidelines established in the U.S. Air Force’s Unmanned Aircraft Systems Flight Plan 2009-2047 are any indication.

In an age where printers and copy machines continue to jam, the idea that drones could start making life-and-death decisions should be cause for concern. Once that door is opened, the risk that we are on a slippery ethical slope with potentially devastating results seems all too real. One need not envision the nightmares scenario of an out-of-control Skynet from Terminator movie fame to see where things could go wrong.

In this day and age, battlefield scenarios are less and less the meeting of two conventional forces in open terrain, and instead increasingly takes the form of combatants engaging in close quarter firefights in dense urban areas. This is especially true of conflicts pitting modern military forces — the very same forces that are most likely to deploy sentient drones — against a weaker opponent, such as NATO in Afghanistan, the U.S. in Iraq, or Israel in Lebanon, Gaza, and the West Bank.

Israeli counterterrorism probably provides the best examples of the ethical problems that would arise from the use of sentient drones with a license to kill. While it is true that domestic politics and the thirst for vengeance are both factors in the decision to attack a “terrorist” target, in general the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) must continually use proportionality and weigh the operational benefits of launching an attack in an urban area against the costs of attendant civilian collateral. The IDF has faced severe criticism over the years for what human rights organizations and others have called “disproportionate” attacks against Palestinians and Lebanese. In many instances, such criticism was justified.

That said, what often goes unreported are the occasions when the Israeli government didn’t launch an attack because of the high risks of collateral damage, or because a target’s family was present in the building when the attack was to take place. As Daniel Byman writes in a recent book on Israeli counterterrorism, “Israel spends an average of ten hours planning the operation and twenty seconds on the question of whether to kill or not.”

Those twenty seconds make all the difference, and it’s difficult to imagine how a robot could make such a call. Unarguably, there will be times when hatred will exacerbate pressures to use deadly violence (e.g., the 1982 Sabra and Shatila massacre that was carried out while the IDF looked on). But equally there are times when human compassion, or the ability to think strategically, imposes restraints on the desirability of using force. Unless artificial intelligence reaches a point where it can replicate, if not transcend, human cognition and emotion, machines will not be able to act under ethical considerations or to imagine the consequences of action in strategic terms.

How, for example, would a drone decide whether to attack a Hezbollah rocket launch site or depot in Southern Lebanon located near a hospital or with schools in the vicinity? How, without human intelligence, will it be able to determine whether civilians remain in the building, or recognize that schoolchildren are about to leave the classroom and play in the yard? Although humans were ultimately responsible, the downing of Iran Air Flight 655 in 1988 by the U.S. Navy is nevertheless proof that only humans still have the ability to avoid certain types of disaster. The A300 civilian aircraft, with 290 people on board, was shot down by the U.S. Navy’s USS Vincennes after operators mistook it for an Iranian F-14 aircraft and warnings to change course were unheeded. Without doubt, today’s more advanced technology would have ensured the Vincennes made visual contact with the airliner, which wasn’t the case back in 1988. Had such contact been made, U.S. naval officers would very likely have called off the attack. Absent human agency, whether a fully independent drone would make a similar call would be contingent on the quality of its software — a not so comforting thought.

And the problems don’t just end there. It’s already become clear that states regard the use of unmanned vehicle as somewhat more acceptable than human intrusions. From Chinese UAVs conducting surveillance near the border with India to U.S. drones launching Hellfire missiles at suspected terrorists in places like Pakistan, Afghanistan or Yemen, states regard such activity as less intrusive than, say, U.S. special forces taking offensive action on their soil. Once drones start acting on their own and become commonplace, the level of acceptability will likely increase, further deresponsibilizing their users.

Finally, by removing human agency altogether from the act of killing, the restraints on the use of force risk being further weakened. Technological advances over the centuries have consistently increased the physical and emotional distance between an attacker and his target, resulting in ever-higher levels of destructiveness. Already back during the Gulf War of 1991, critics were arguing that the “videogame” and “electronic narrative” aspect of fixing a target in the crosshairs of an aircraft flying at 30,000 feet before dropping a precision-guided bomb had made killing easier, at least for the perpetrator and the public. Things were taken to a greater extreme with the introduction of attack drones, with U.S. Air Force pilots not even having to be in Afghanistan to launch attacks against extremist groups there, drawing accusations that the U.S. conducts an “antiseptic” war.

Still, at some point, a human has to make a decision whether to kill or not. It’s hard to imagine that we could ever be confident enough to allow technology to cross that thin red line.

On Tuesday, the People’s Republic of China (PRC) joined 9 other nations—the United States, the United Kingdom, France, Russia, India, Thailand, Spain, Italy, and Brazil—that have aircraft carriers in their naval arsenal. But what does that mean for nations in the region and how should we assess the long-term implications?

For many regional observers, the announcement hardly ruffles feathers. In fact, some see it as a liability. For example, “The fact is the aircraft carrier is useless for the Chinese Navy,” You Ji, a visiting senior research fellow at the National University of Singapore, said in an interview. He continued, “If it is used against America, it has no survivability. If it is used against China’s neighbors, it’s a sign of bullying.” Chinese leaders are the first to admit the Liaoning is for training purposes only and in fact, China’s air force doesn’t even have aircraft capable of landing on the carrier. Furthermore, carriers are more vulnerable without their protective and supporting battle groups. These battle groups require technology, investment, and training over the course of a decade or more to bring them together as an effective fighting force. Meanwhile, as pointed out above, as a concentration of capabilities, resources, and manpower, a carrier quickly becomes both a high-value asset and a high-value target for adversaries.

What benefit does the carrier bring to the PRC? First, it is a symbol of national pride for a nation that is rallying more and more frequently to nationalism in the waters of the East and South China Sea. Second, it serves as a testbed and developmental vessel for the next generation of up to five more Chinese carriers which have been reported to be in design and development. Third, even if the People’s Liberation Army Navy (PLAN) has no desire to go into battle with other world superpowers, it would certainly give the nation an option for displaying military might in regions where the PRC has strategic interests around the globe. This hearkens back to the concept of nineteenth century gunboat diplomacy. For example, if you are a coastal African nation with significant resource trade with the PRC and there is a dispute over future rights or how Chinese citizens are treated, and a PRC aircraft carrier shows up off your coastline, it may influence your decision calculus. It also gives the PLAN a lot of staying power closer to home in the disputed areas of the East and South China Seas. If the ship is equipped with a wing of J-15 aircraft (currently under development in China), and then deployed near the Senkaku/Diaoyu, Paracel, or Spratly Islands, the PRC will have arguably established sustainable air dominance over the area.

So, the question remains, is the Liaoning a significant new capability or is it a waste of money on a capability that China will never realize? The reality probably lies between the two possibilities. PRC leaders understand that with exponentially increasing demands for raw goods caused by their growing economy, they must be prepared to field a blue-water navy to protect their strategic interests. The Liaoning is a measured step in the long trek toward a globally-capable navy that an emerging superpower needs. For a nation that takes a long and measured view of history, it is a logical investment. It is also a solid indicator of intent, but not a threat … yet.

Colonel Brian Killough is U.S. Air Force Military Fellow at the Council on Foreign Relations. This piece originally appeared in the Council on Foreign Relations Asia Unbound blog.

Chinese lookalikes are big news these days. Last month, at the murder trial of Gu Kailai, the wife of purged Politburo member Bo Xilai, the Chinese web was abuzz with speculation that the person on the stand was not Gu at all, but a body double masquerading as the defendant. The woman in court, there’s no denying, looked at best like a plump half-cousin of the Gu we knew.

This week, China produced another lookalike – only this time the resemblance was far more convincing. The name of China’s new stealth fighter may have sounded unfamiliar (it’s called the J-21 or the J-31, depending on your sources), but this was a plane we’d all seen many times before. It looks like an F-22 from some angles, and an F-35 from others; but there seemed to be no mistaking that this was essentially an American stealth fighter with Chinese paintwork.

China has, of course, been in trouble for intellectual property infringements before. We await Washington and Lockheed Martin’s submission to the World Trade Organization with interest.

But of all the setbacks to have beset Lockheed’s F-35 program, this has to be one of the most galling. Overpriced, overdue, and underperforming, the F-35 was already a plane under extreme political pressure. Earlier this month one of the U.S. Air Force generals in charge of the program made it sound as if the government and Lockheed’s relationship had practically broken down over the stealth jet’s persistent failings. Deputy Secretary of Defense Ashton Carter has echoed these concerns. Other influential voices have called simply for the thing to be scrapped before its ruins American defense.

Yet all these perfectly good reasons to sell the F-35 prototypes on eBay to plane enthusiasts have so far been trumped by the aircraft’s one great quality: that it was the strongest competitor in a field of one. Because of this ace characteristic, a number of countries – besides the program partners – have already begun ordering the pricey and totally unproven jet. The South Koreans are currently thinking about buying it even though Lockheed has denied them the opportunity to fly one before making their decision. Chances are they’ll sign up anyway.

Only now a knock-off F-35 appears to be coming to market. Strangely enough, the possibility now exists that the F-35 will have to compete for export sales with a Chinese copy of itself. It’s hard to pin down the unit price of an F-35, but it’s at least in the $200 million range (and possibly a lot more). Ten years from now, you’ll be able to find one for much less than that at the Chinese fake market, especially if you know how to haggle.

In all seriousness there are real economic implications, given that the F-35 needs to secure export orders well into the 2030s and beyond in order to recoup some of its crazy costs. The security implications are also serious. What if the J-21/31 undercuts the F-35 in cost terms while matching it in capability terms? What if, as The Australian newspaper reckons, China has extracted the full F-35 blueprints from BAE Systems’ computers? What if, armed with that knowledge, the Shenyang Aircraft Corporation succeeds where Lockheed has so far failed and builds a Fake-35 that actually works?

Speculation aside, the reality is that the F-35 program is presently slated to cost $395.7 billion. China has probably spent less than 0.1% of that developing the Fake-35. Ladies and gentlemen, you’re looking at the biggest free ride in the history of national security. 

In support of James’ excellent discussion of the likely contours of a U.S.-China conflict, it’s worth spending a bit of time to discuss how the PRC’s anti-access capabilities have come together.  Much recent work has concerned the DF-21A “carrier killer” ballistic missile, but that capability represents only a small part of the system of anti-access systems that China operates. 

Before the ASBM became the threat of the day, attention concentrated on the PLAN’s submarine fleet. Although likely to suffer heavy attrition from the U.S. Navy’s (USN) Anti-Submarine Warfare assets, PLAN diesel electric subs could cause serious damage to USN assets, and perhaps more importantly could force USN carrier groups to operate in a more cautious manner.  PLAN nuclear subs could interdict USN efforts deep in the Pacific, or at least draw the USN’s own subs away from the critical theater of operations

The PLAN surface fleet carries a variety of weapons  (including, most notably, anti-ship cruise missiles) that could threaten USN warships, although some of the platforms (destroyers) might be too expensive to sacrifice against formidable U.S. surface and air units.  The PLAN also operates a large number of missile boats, expendable vessels that could nevertheless threaten major U.S. ships with serious damage.

The PLAN and the PLAAF both control strike and air superiority aircraft crucial to any effort to deny the USN and USAAF access to China’s littoral.  These aircraft carry cruise missiles similar to those launched from surface ships and land bases, but can attack from unpredictable vectors, making the job of air defense exceptionally difficult. 

The Second Artillery has responsibility not only for the PLA’s array of ballistic missiles, but also for its cruise missiles.  Land launched cruise missiles can strike both U.S. vessels at sea and U.S. bases on land, causing disruption and destruction.  Ballistic missiles can similarly target fielded U.S. and allied forces.  Defending against both cruise and ballistic missiles presents the USN and USAF with an extremely complex set of problems. 

Each of the elements of this system-of-systems carries different political implications. Cruise missile attacks against U.S. bases in Japan would risk forcing Japan into the conflict. Attacks against U.S. carriers from submarines or surface ships would require large scale retaliation against the PLAN.  Missiles, whether ballistic or cruise, launched from the mainland would invite direct attacks against the Chinese homeland.  Finally, any ballistic missile launch against U.S. forces runs the risk of nuclear escalation; the Americans don’t know what kind of warhead a missile carries before the missile hits. In order to manage escalatory concerns, the Chinese civilian leadership will have to maintain tight control over the services that share the maritime responsibilities of the anti-access mission.

I’ve belabored the organizational aspects of China’s system of anti-access systems because bureaucratic boundaries matter. AirSea Battle seeks, above all, to iron out the wrinkles that could prevent tight cooperation between the United States Navy and the United States Air Force.  Years of hard won experience have demonstrated that military organizations don’t necessarily play well together; they have different priorities, different practices, and often different system of communication that generate friction and detract from overall capability.  The history of USN and USAF collaboration in Korea, Vietnam, Grenada, and the Gulf is littered with stories of hostility, rivalry, and miscommunication. The Pentagon understands this, and over the years has enacted a plethora of reforms (not least the Goldwater-Nichols Act) to ensure that the Air Force and the Navy can operate effectively together.

As of yet there is little indication that the PLAN, PLAAF, and 2^nd Artillery have developed the practices necessary to ensure an efficient, effective partnership in battle.  To be sure, we have little evidence that the three organizations cannot collaborate effectively, but what we know of the history of inter-service conflict suggests a high potential for friction.  The Chinese military has not had the opportunity to work through that friction in realistic, wartime conditions.  USPACOM undoubtedly understands this, and in any militarized conflict will likely seek to discern, attack, and exploit the boundaries that separate the different organs of the PLA.  Consequently, there is good reason to believe that the system-of-systems may add up to less, rather than more, than the sum of its parts.