a CH-53K King Stallion Visits Perth Amboy High School

08/04/2025

Perth Amboy High School students tour a CH-53K King Stallion from Marine Heavy Helicopter Squadron 461, Marine Aircraft Group 29, 2nd Marine Aircraft Wing during an aircraft expo at Perth Amboy High School, Perth Amboy, New Jersey, during Fleet Week New York 2025, May 21, 2025.

America’s warfighting Navy and Marine Corps celebrate 250 years of protecting American prosperity and freedom. Fleet Week New York 2025 honors the Navy, Marine Corps, and Coast Guard’s enduring role on, under, and above the seas.

(U.S. Marine Corps photo taken by Cpl. Diana Salgado)

Eyes in the Sky: Japan’s Historic Intelligence Leap

08/03/2025

When Putin decided upon a “special operation” in Ukraine, his focus was on Europe and his way ahead in his effort to emulate Catherine the Great.

Only it has not turned out that way.

The conflict has enhanced pressure on the multipolar authoritarian world which had been making significant gains with a relatively quiet game of advancement.

But his invasion has led to his reawakening Europe to its defense future and has triggered actions which affect its partners in Asia, not positively.

An example of this are actions which Japan is taking triggered both by Chinese and Russian actions, and given the uncertain relationship between Russia and China over the future of Manchuria this has to be of concern to the Kremlin as well.

And the story of the coming together of Japan in support of Ukraine by providing satellite intelligence is part of the spin off created by Putin’s misguided and unacceptable actions.

The story goes something like this.

The secure conference room at Kyushu University’s Institute for Q-shu Pioneers of Space (iQPS) buzzed with nervous energy on a cold February morning in 2025.

Dr. Shunsuke Onishi, the CEO who had transformed a struggling academic spin-off into Japan’s most promising commercial satellite operator, sat across from Ukrainian intelligence officials whose nation had been at war for nearly three years.

What transpired in those discussions would mark a watershed moment but not just for Ukraine’s intelligence needs, but for Japan’s carefully constructed post-war identity as a pacifist nation that kept its advanced military technologies at arm’s length from foreign conflicts.

The catalyst for this unprecedented meeting had arrived just weeks earlier, when the United States temporarily suspended its intelligence sharing with Ukraine

Ukrainian officials, who had grown accustomed to the steady flow of American satellite imagery and signals intelligence, suddenly found themselves partially blind on the digital battlefield.

As Ukrainian officials reached out to allies across Europe, they discovered a harsh reality: no single European operator could match the quality and quantity of intelligence traditionally supplied by American satellites.

Germany’s SAR-Lupe and SARah systems, Finland’s ICEYE constellation, and Italy’s COSMO-SkyMed satellites were all providing imagery, but the coverage remained incomplete.

That’s where Japan’s iQPS satellites, each equipped with synthetic aperture radar (SAR) technology, offered something unique in the crowded satellite intelligence market.

Unlike optical satellites that required clear skies and daylight to function, SAR satellites could see through clouds, darkness, and even dense foliage by bouncing microwave pulses off the Earth’s surface.

For Ukraine’s Main Intelligence Directorate (HUR), this capability was a game-changer. The ability to monitor Russian positions during the harsh Ukrainian winter, track supply convoys through forest cover, and assess bomb damage through smoke and debris could provide crucial advantages in a conflict where information superiority often determined success or failure,

But the technology came with a compelling economic argument as well. iQPS claimed its satellites cost just one-hundredth the price of traditional SAR platforms. This dramatic cost reduction had allowed the small Japanese company to deploy five operational satellites by April 2025, with plans for a seventh by late 2026 and a full constellation of 24 satellites by 2027.

The decision to share Japan’s most advanced surveillance technology with a foreign military represented a dramatic departure from decades of cautious policy.

Since World War II, Japan had maintained strict limitations on defense exports and intelligence sharing, preferring to keep its technological capabilities within carefully controlled boundaries.

The 2024 Noto Peninsula earthquake had provided a preview of iQPS’s capabilities when the satellites delivered high-resolution images that helped emergency responders track landslides and infrastructure damage.

But using the same technology to help Ukraine target Russian forces was an entirely different proposition.

The practical challenges of implementing the agreement were substantial. Ukrainian intelligence officers would need to adapt their systems to receive, process, and analyze SAR data from iQPS satellites This is a task that would stretch technical resources but promised significant battlefield advantages.

The integration process was expected to take two to three months, during which iQPS would install programming tools and image reception systems at Ukrainian intelligence facilities.

The goal was to create seamless data flows that would allow Ukrainian analysts to access near-real-time radar imagery alongside existing intelligence streams from European partners.

SAR technology’s unique capabilities made it particularly valuable for Ukraine’s military operations. The radar could reveal heat signatures from running engines, detect camouflaged vehicles, and map changes in terrain caused by artillery strikes.

In a 2024 report, Ukraine’s intelligence service noted that SAR satellites were being used to “directly prepare strikes on the enemy,” with nearly two-fifths of imagery from Finland’s ICEYE satellites contributing to attacks that caused billions of dollars in damage.

The agreement represented more than just technical cooperation for it signaled Japan’s willingness to take a more assertive role in international security affairs. As tensions continued to rise in the Indo-Pacific region, Japan’s participation in the Quad alliance with the United States, Australia, and India had already suggested a shift toward more active security cooperation.

In other words, the spill over impact from the war in Ukraine to the Indo-Pacific is significant.

For Ukraine, the Japanese satellite partnership offered crucial redundancy in intelligence sources. Even after U.S. intelligence sharing resumed in mid-March, Ukrainian officials remained determined to diversify their capabilities. The experience of being temporarily cut off from American intelligence had underscored the risks of over-dependence on any single ally.

The timing also coincided with broader European efforts to support Ukraine’s intelligence needs.

France had confirmed on March 6, 2025, that it was providing military intelligence to Kyiv, while General Patrick de Rousiers, former President of the Military Committee of the European Union, advocated for forming an intelligence coalition among Ukraine’s allies.

The Japan-Ukraine satellite agreement emerged against a backdrop of shifting geopolitical dynamics. The temporary suspension of U.S. intelligence support had highlighted the fragility of Ukraine’s information lifelines, while also demonstrating the growing importance of commercial satellite operators in modern warfare.

The proliferation of SAR technology had democratized space-based intelligence gathering, allowing smaller nations and private companies to compete with traditional intelligence superpowers.

This technological leveling had created new opportunities for partnerships like the one between Japan and Ukraine, where advanced capabilities could be shared outside traditional alliance structures.

As the war in Ukraine continues to evolve, the Japanese satellite partnership represents a new model for international security cooperation that is one where technological innovation and private sector capabilities could reshape the balance of power in conflicts around the world.

The success of this unprecedented arrangement would likely influence future decisions about intelligence sharing, technology transfer, and the role of commercial space companies in national security.

For Japan, it marked a significant step away from its post-war constraints toward a more active role in global security affairs.

For Ukraine, the partnership offered not just enhanced intelligence capabilities, but also a demonstration that the international community remained committed to supporting its defense against Russian aggression, even as traditional partnerships faced new challenges.

Additional Note:

Japan’s iQPS satellites, equipped with advanced synthetic aperture radar (SAR) technology, have swiftly carved out a unique position in the rapidly expanding domain of space-based intelligence. Unlike traditional optical satellites, SAR satellites can peer through clouds and darkness, providing high-resolution images regardless of weather or time of day which is a vital capability in Asia’s often cloudy skies.

But iQPS offers more than just imaging power; it has delivered a compelling economic and technological breakthrough. Thanks to a patented foldable 3.6-meter antenna and local Kyushu manufacturing partnerships, iQPS satellites weigh ~100kg and cost just one-hundredth as much as conventional SAR platforms. This radical cost reduction enabled iQPS to deploy five operational satellites by early summer 2025, each with enhanced in-orbit image processing, inter-satellite links, and radar resolution as fine as 0.46 meters.

The pace of deployment has only accelerated. After the successful launch of QPS-SAR-9 “SUSANOO-I” in March, QPS-SAR-10 “WADATSUMI-I” in May, and QPS-SAR-11 “YAMATSUMI-I” by Rocket Lab in June, iQPS now operates five active satellites and are on track for nine in space by year’s end and a planned 36-satellite constellation by 2027. This will enable near real-time Earth observation, with global revisit intervals as short as ten minutes which offers strategic responsiveness unmatched in the Asian region.

What sets iQPS further apart is its integration of artificial intelligence. The company’s satellites now perform onboard data analysis, enabling continuous monitoring of moving targets, prompt detection of infrastructure changes, and economic forecasting. Japanese government agencies, as well as new private-sector clients, are leveraging this next-generation intelligence for disaster response, smart city development, and, increasingly, security missions.

This commercial-military synergy reflects a major shift in Japanese policy. The government has moved to integrate private space startups into national security planning. By purchasing commercial satellite data, the government is supporting dual-use development, and treating space as a strategic growth industry. In 2025, over ¥3.5 billion was allocated to space in Japan’s record ¥8.7 trillion (approx. $55 billion) defense budget, including a new multibillion-yen satellite constellation for real-time tracking and a next-generation secure communications satellite.

iQPS is not alone. The Japanese synthetic aperture radar sector is booming. Synspective, builder of the StriX SAR satellites, recently partnered with JAXA for access to L-band ALOS-4 data, offering broader spectrum coverage. Global players like ICEYE, in collaboration with IHI, are building a separate 24-satellite SAR constellation tailored for Japanese government and defense needs. These constellations, already signing data-sharing deals with domestic and international agencies, are ushering in a new competitive space intelligence ecosystem shaped by public–private cooperation.

Perhaps the most dramatic changes have been in policy. After decades of self-imposed restrictions, Japan began reforming its defense export laws in 2025, lifting prohibitions on dual-use (commercial and defense) satellite technology. This opens the door for iQPS and its peers to expand globally and for Japan to deepen strategic intelligence-sharing with allies, from the US to Southeast Asia.

Meanwhile, the government is expected to amend the Space Activities Act and establish a “Space Operations Unit” within the Air Self-Defense Force. These steps mark a clear transition: from seeing space as a scientific frontier to treating it as a critical strategic high ground, where commercial ingenuity and national security now converge.

Driven by the tectonic events of recent years, Japan has moved decisively to close its space intelligence gap. The iQPS satellite constellation is on course to reshape not only Japan’s surveillance power but also its role in a rapidly transforming global security landscape. What was once a cautious, insular approach to space is now a leap forward—built on innovation, collaboration, and a new resolve to play a leading role in the world’s emerging space domain.

Among the sources consulted in writing this story were the following: 

Japan’s secret satellite weapon now in Ukraine’s ‘war hands’

Japan’s iQPS to provide Ukraine with satellite intel amid US support uncertainty

Japan to Share SAR Satellite-Based Data With Ukraine for the First Time

Satellite Warfare: Japan’s iQPS SAR Satellites Set to Strengthen Ukraine’s Intelligence Arsenal

Ukrainian intelligence will receive satellite imagery from Japan

 

Beyond Moral Judgment: How Modern Historians Navigate the Past

08/02/2025

By Robbin Laird

The challenge facing every historian is deceptively simple yet profoundly difficult: How do we understand people from the past without either excusing their actions or condemning them by today’s standards?

This methodological dilemma sits at the heart of historical scholarship, determining whether we produce genuine insight or mere moral posturing disguised as academic analysis.

Mary Beard, in her acclaimed study of Roman emperors, articulated this challenge with characteristic clarity. Historians, she argued, must resist the twin temptations of giving historical figures a “free pass” simply because they lived long ago, while simultaneously avoiding the trap of judging them purely by contemporary moral standards. The solution lies not in psychological speculation about historical actors’ inner lives — an impossible task — but in understanding the institutional frameworks, daily realities, and structural constraints that shaped their world.

This approach represents more than academic methodology; it’s a fundamentally different way of thinking about human behavior across time. Rather than asking whether historical actors were “good” or “bad” people, we should ask how their contexts made certain choices rational, necessary, or inevitable.

Ernst Pijning’s groundbreaking study of 18th-century Brazilian contraband trade demonstrates exactly how this methodological approach transforms our understanding of the past. Where previous historians had treated smuggling through moral lenses — either condemning it as corruption or romanticizing it as heroic resistance to colonial oppression — Pijning places these activities squarely within their institutional and political context.

His key insight revolutionizes how we think about “illegal” activity in colonial Brazil. Pijning reveals that contraband wasn’t simply lawbreaking; it existed in two distinct categories that colonial authorities themselves recognized. “Condoned illegal trade” was tolerated or even encouraged when it served Portuguese interests, while “proscribed illegal trade” was genuinely prosecuted when it threatened royal authority or was conducted by people lacking proper social connections.

This distinction wasn’t arbitrary. Indeed, it reflected the practical realities of governing a vast colonial empire with limited resources while navigating complex European power politics. Portugal, militarily and economically dependent on stronger powers like Britain and France, used trading privileges as diplomatic bargaining chips. What appeared as governmental weakness or corruption was often strategic flexibility designed to maintain control under difficult circumstances.

Rather than speculating about the moral character of individual smugglers, officials, or Portuguese administrators, Pijning analyzes the structural forces that made contraband an integral part of colonial governance. Social status determined who could engage in “illegal” trade with impunity. Wealthy merchants and well-connected officials rarely faced serious consequences, while lower-status individuals were prosecuted for similar activities.

This wasn’t simply unfairness; it reflected a deliberate system of control. Colonial authorities used their discretion in enforcing laws as a tool for managing local networks, generating revenue, and maintaining social hierarchies. The judicial system’s “tiresome procedures” and uncertain outcomes created leverage over individuals while allowing officials to regulate trade through selective enforcement rather than blanket prohibition.

Even international diplomacy shaped these seemingly local decisions. Foreign diplomats actively encouraged gold smuggling for their nations’ benefit, and Portugal’s ability to stop them depended entirely on its military and economic position in European politics. When that position weakened during the Napoleonic Wars, Portugal had little choice but to tolerate increased contraband which culminated in the 1808 opening of Brazilian ports that effectively legalized much previously “illegal” trade.

Pijning’s approach offers a model for how historians can navigate Beard’s challenge across different periods and topics. By focusing on institutional mechanics rather than moral evaluation, we can understand how historical actors operated within their constraints rather than imposing our values on their choices.

This methodology reveals patterns that moral judgment obscures. The flexibility between “condoned” and “proscribed” contraband wasn’t unique to colonial Brazil. Similar dynamics appear wherever formal rules clash with practical necessities. Understanding these patterns helps us recognize how power actually functioned in historical societies, beyond the official proclamations and legal codes that often mislead modern observers.

More broadly, this approach suggests that much behavior we might instinctively condemn or celebrate actually reflected rational responses to structural pressures. Colonial officials who participated in “illegal” trade weren’t necessarily corrupt in any meaningful sense. They were working within systems that made such participation logical or even necessary for effective governance.

This methodological shift has implications beyond academic history. In our current moment of intense moral and political polarization, the historical approach modeled by Beard and exemplified by Pijning offers tools for understanding human behavior across cultural and temporal divides.

Rather than rushing to moral judgment about past actors, we might ask what institutional pressures, resource constraints, or structural incentives made their choices comprehensible within their context. This doesn’t excuse harmful actions or eliminate the possibility of moral evaluation but it grounds such evaluation in understanding rather than presentist assumption.

The goal isn’t moral relativism but analytical precision. By understanding how historical actors navigated their world’s actual constraints and opportunities, we develop more sophisticated frameworks for thinking about human behavior, institutional design, and the relationship between individual choices and structural forces.

When historians successfully meet Beard’s challenge, they don’t just illuminate the past. They provide tools for understanding the present. Pijning’s analysis of how colonial authorities balanced formal rules with practical necessities offers insights relevant to anyone trying to understand how institutions actually function versus how they’re supposed to work.

The best historical scholarship thus serves a double purpose: recovering the authentic texture of past experience while developing analytical frameworks that help us navigate our own complex institutional and moral landscape. In avoiding both condemnation and celebration of historical actors, we paradoxically achieve a deeper and more useful understanding of both their world and our own.

The Unintended Architects: How Putin and Trump Shaped Xi’s Global Strategy

08/01/2025

In the complex chess game of global geopolitics, few developments have been as paradoxical as the way two of Xi Jinping’s most challenging counterparts may have inadvertently strengthened China’s strategic position. While facing significant domestic economic headwinds, President Xi has found unexpected opportunities in the disruptions caused by Vladimir Putin’s war in Ukraine and Donald Trump’s aggressive trade policies.

By 2022, Xi Jinping confronted a daunting economic landscape. China’s growth model, built on manufacturing exports and massive infrastructure investment, was showing signs of strain. The property sector was in crisis, demographic trends pointed toward a shrinking workforce, and the COVID-19 pandemic had disrupted global supply chains that Chinese manufacturers depended upon. Perhaps most challenging of all, Western companies were increasingly “friend-shoring” or “near-shoring” their production, moving operations from China to India, Mexico, or back to domestic facilities.

Xi’s response focused on building domestic demand to reduce dependence on exports, but this transition came with its own contradictions. The Chinese government’s emphasis on maintaining political control over the economy from tech crackdowns to regulatory interventions often worked against the market dynamism needed to drive consumption and innovation. This tension between political imperatives and economic efficiency represented a fundamental challenge to China’s development model.

The Russian Opportunity

Putin’s invasion of Ukraine in February 2022 unexpectedly provided Xi with a pathway through some of these challenges. While Western sanctions isolated Russia economically, China positioned itself as Moscow’s most important economic lifeline. Chinese imports of Russian energy soared, often at heavily discounted prices, providing Beijing with crucial raw materials at favorable terms during a period of global inflation.

More strategically significant, however, was how the war accelerated Russia’s economic decline and weakened Moscow’s influence over its traditional sphere of influence. In Central Asia, countries that had long balanced between Russian and Chinese influence found themselves dealing with an increasingly weakened northern neighbor. Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, and other Central Asian states began tilting more decisively toward Chinese investment and trade partnerships.

This shift allowed China to expand its Belt and Road Initiative influence in a region rich with energy resources and strategically positioned between China and European markets. What emerged was not just economic opportunity, but a fundamental reshaping of Eurasian geopolitics in China’s favor. This was an outcome that might have taken decades to achieve through purely economic competition with a stronger Russia.

Trump’s Trade War Paradox

Donald Trump’s return to aggressive trade policies, particularly his expansion of tariffs on Chinese goods, presented Xi with another unexpected strategic opening. While these tariffs certainly imposed costs on Chinese exporters, they also created an opportunity for China to position itself as the champion of free trade and multilateralism which is a remarkable role reversal from the traditional post-war order.

As the United States pursued increasingly unilateral trade policies, China strengthened its relationships with traditional American partners. Brazilian soybean exports to China increased dramatically as Trump’s trade policies made American agricultural products less competitive. Australian mining companies, despite political tensions with Beijing, continued to benefit from Chinese demand for iron ore and other commodities.

Perhaps more importantly, Trump’s approach pushed many countries to diversify their economic relationships away from over-dependence on the United States. This “de-risking” from American economic dominance created openings for China to expand trade relationships across Southeast Asia, Latin America, and even parts of Europe.

The Limits of Opportunism

However, this narrative of Chinese strategic gains should be tempered with recognition of its limitations. China’s closer relationship with Russia, while economically beneficial in the short term, carries significant risks. Secondary sanctions remain a constant threat, and the association with an increasingly isolated regime complicates China’s relationships with European and other Western partners.

Similarly, while Trump’s trade policies may have pushed some countries toward China, they also accelerated a broader trend of technological decoupling. American restrictions on semiconductor technology, artificial intelligence, and other advanced technologies have created genuine challenges for Chinese technological development. The cost of reduced access to Western technology and investment may outweigh the benefits of expanded trade relationships elsewhere.

Moreover, many of China’s strategic moves from the Belt and Road Initiative to efforts at domestic consumption growth preceded both the Ukraine war and Trump’s return to protectionist policies. This suggests that Chinese strategy has been more proactive than simply reactive to external opportunities.

The Chinese experience since 2022 illustrates a broader principle in international relations: how skilled powers can transform external disruptions into strategic advantages. Xi Jinping’s government has demonstrated considerable agility in adapting to changing global circumstances, turning potential isolation into opportunities for expanded influence.

For policymakers in Washington and Moscow, this dynamic offers important lessons. Unilateral actions, whether military interventions or trade wars, can create unintended consequences that benefit strategic competitors. Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has not only failed to achieve its stated objectives but has also accelerated the decline of Russian influence in favor of Chinese expansion. Similarly, American trade policies aimed at constraining China may be pushing other countries toward exactly the kind of China-centric economic relationships that Washington seeks to prevent.

The irony of contemporary geopolitics is that Xi Jinping may owe some of his strategic successes to the very leaders who pose the greatest challenges to Chinese interests. Putin’s military adventurism has weakened Russia’s position in ways that benefit Chinese expansion, while Trump’s trade nationalism has created openings for China to position itself as a more reliable economic partner.

This dynamic suggests that in an interconnected world, the consequences of major power actions extend far beyond their intended targets. As global competition intensifies, the ability to transform challenges into opportunities as China has done since 2022 may prove as important as raw economic or military power in determining which nations emerge stronger from periods of global upheaval.

The question moving forward is whether this pattern will continue, and whether other powers will learn to anticipate and counter such strategic adaptation. In the great game of 21st-century geopolitics, the most successful players may be those who can best turn their opponents’ moves to their own advantage.

The AI-generated image of how President Xi looks at the global chessboard.

 

Beyond the Science Project: A CONOPS for Hypersonic Weapons in Today’s Fight

By Robbin Laird

The United States faces a critical strategic moment in the Pacific. While adversaries deploy operational capabilities — however imperfect — America continues to treat essential weapons systems as science projects rather than deployable assets. This is particularly true for hypersonic weapons, where the absence of a clear concept of operations (CONOPS) has relegated transformational capabilities to endless development cycles rather than battlefield readiness.

The fundamental problem isn’t technological — it’s conceptual. Without a driving CONOPS, any capability becomes a platform in search of a mission rather than a solution to an operational problem. The ecosystem for hypersonic weapons integration already exists through the F-35 Lightning II and MQ-4C Triton platforms, which provide the sensor and targeting foundation necessary for distributed strike operations. We don’t need to wait for space-based systems or revolutionary new platforms. We need to weaponize what we have.

Consider the Israeli operations that would have been impossible without F-35 capabilities. The aircraft didn’t just deliver ordnance — it provided battle damage assessment, real-time targeting updates, and strategic effects that traditional fighters simply cannot achieve. This demonstrates the operational reality of fifth-generation warfare: platforms that function as battle managers rather than simple delivery systems. Hypersonic weapons represent the logical extension of this distributed, effects-based approach to warfare.

The strategic priority must be enhancing the “fight tonight force” or providing the capabilities available in the next 2-5 years rather than the hypothetical force of 2035. This requires abandoning the traditional acquisition mentality that treats every system as a 20-year development program. The Chinese understand this dynamic, gaining strategic advantage through deploying systems that may be imperfect but are operationally available. Perception shapes reality in strategic competition, and deployed capabilities—however limited—trump perfect systems that exist only on drawing boards.

The current approach to hypersonic weapons exemplifies this problem. Industry partners have identified technologies that could be deployed as early as 2027-2028 with appropriate funding and a shift to concurrent development methodologies. This isn’t about rushing immature technology to the field—it’s about recognizing that form factors are stable, engineering challenges are understood, and the primary barriers are bureaucratic rather than technical.

The solution lies in parallel production or simultaneously developing prototypes while manufacturing long-lead components for early operational deployment. This approach mirrors the successful 2001-2002 Ground-Based Midcourse Defense program, where the Bush administration prioritized getting five interceptors in silos by 2005 rather than waiting for the perfect system a decade later.

The methodology is straightforward: identify stable design elements, procure long-lead hardware, and complete integration as demonstration missions validate performance. This capabilities-based deployment approach recognizes that the best capability deployed by 2028 is infinitely more valuable than the perfect capability available in 2035—particularly when facing adversaries who don’t wait for perfection.

Current funding profiles support steady development but not rapid deployment. The difference between a 2032 initial operating capability and a 2027 early operational prototype often comes down to resource allocation rather than technological barriers. This represents a strategic choice about whether America will field capabilities or continue studying them.

Hypersonic weapons aren’t a monolithic capability but represent a mosaic of complementary systems, each with distinct operational advantages. Air-breathing systems operating at Mach 4-6 provide atmospheric flight profiles with unique targeting opportunities. Hypersonic glide bodies achieve Mach 10+ speeds while “skipping” along the atmosphere, creating complex defensive challenges. Maneuverable reentry vehicles combine ballistic efficiency with terminal maneuvering, offering rapid time-on-target effects.

This diversity isn’t an acquisition burden: rather it’s a strategic advantage. Different flight regimes provide warfighters with expanded decision space, allowing effects-based targeting that can overwhelm defensive systems through varied approach vectors and timing. The goal isn’t to choose one system but to field a complementary suite that provides flexible response options across the spectrum of potential conflicts.

More importantly, this mosaic approach supports distributed operations across multiple platforms. Hypersonic weapons that can launch from air, sea, and land platforms create a grid of potential strike points that cannot be easily targeted or predicted. This aligns with the fundamental Pacific strategy of distributing forces and embedding them with allies rather than concentrating them in vulnerable fixed installations.

The distributed force concept represents more than tactical flexibility. It’s the foundation of credible deterrence in the Pacific. Traditional approaches that rely on a few heavily armed platforms create predictable targets and concentrated vulnerabilities. Distributed hypersonic capabilities embedded with allied forces create multiple dilemmas for potential adversaries while strengthening partnership relationships.

The fundamental shift required is moving from platform-centric to effects-based thinking. Hypersonic weapons aren’t simply faster missiles. They’re enablers of distributed operations that change the strategic calculus in the Pacific. They provide “prompt strike” capability, allowing rapid response to time-sensitive targets without requiring forward-deployed forces in vulnerable positions.

This capability becomes crucial when considering crisis management and escalation control. Political decision-makers need military options that provide measured responses rather than binary choices between inaction and major escalation. A mosaic of hypersonic capabilities provides graduated response options that can achieve strategic effects while maintaining escalation control.

These weapons function as “spears in a deployed force” rather than traditional missiles. They’re designed for an era of distributed operations where speed, survivability, and network integration matter more than simple kinetic effect. This represents a fundamental shift from the Tomahawk generation of cruise missiles to weapons designed for contested environments and distributed operations.

America is losing the public messaging battle over hypersonic weapons, allowing adversaries to claim capability advantages that may not reflect operational reality. Chinese systems that perform well in controlled tests against static targets in the Gobi Desert receive the same strategic credit as battle-tested systems with proven operational effectiveness. This perception gap creates real strategic consequences, influencing both ally confidence and adversary calculations.

The solution isn’t better public relations but deployed capabilities that speak for themselves. Recent videos from Middle Eastern conflicts show hypersonic weapons in actual combat, demonstrating their shock effect and operational impact in ways that no briefing or technical specification can match. These real-world examples provide compelling evidence for why such capabilities are essential rather than optional.

The path forward requires three parallel efforts. First, immediate implementation of concurrent development approaches for systems currently in demonstration phases, focusing on 2027-2028 deployment timelines rather than traditional acquisition schedules. Second, development of operational concepts that integrate hypersonic weapons into existing force structures and allied partnerships. Third, creation of strategic messaging that emphasizes capability deployment rather than development programs.

This approach demands recognition that technological maturation is often a bureaucratic judgment rather than an engineering reality. Industry partners frequently develop capabilities years before acquisition authorities declare them “mature” enough for deployment. The Chinese don’t wait for such bureaucratic approval—they deploy systems and improve them through operational experience.

The United States needs to rediscover the acquisition approaches that characterized successful programs like the original missile defense deployments. This means accepting that Block 0 capabilities deployed by 2028 provide more strategic value than Block 3 capabilities available in 2035. It means recognizing that engineering problems require engineering solutions, not endless study programs.

The hypersonic weapons challenge isn’t about creating new technology. It’s about deploying existing capabilities within a coherent operational framework. The CONOPS already exists in the distributed, sensor-rich environment created by fifth-generation aircraft and persistent surveillance platforms. The technological building blocks are understood and demonstrable. The strategic requirement is clear and urgent.

What’s missing is the institutional will to move from development to deployment, from science project to operational capability. The window for establishing credible deterrence in the Pacific is measured in years, not decades. Adversaries who deploy imperfect systems today will maintain strategic advantage over those who perfect systems for tomorrow.

The choice is clear: deploy capabilities that can evolve through operational experience or continue perfecting systems that will see operational use years in the future. The first approach built the military that won the Cold War. The second approach risks losing the strategic competition that will define the next generation of global security.

The ecosystem exists. The technology is ready. The strategic requirement is urgent. What remains is the decision to move beyond the science project mentality and start building the force that can win tonight’s fight while deterring tomorrow’s war.

The featured image was generated by an AI program.

 

 

VMGR 252 Highlighted

U.S. Marines with Marine Aerial Refueler Transport Squadron (VMGR) 252 fly KC-130J Super Hercules in formation near Marine Corps Air Station Cherry Point, North Carolina, June 18, 2025.

VMGR-252 conducted surge operations to exercise their ability to launch and recover multiple divisions of aircraft concurrently.

MARINE CORPS AIR STATION CHERRY POINT, NORTH CAROLINA

06.17.2025

Photo by Lance Cpl. Bryan Giraldo 

2nd Marine Aircraft Wing    

How to Manage the New Fighter Project: The Dassault Perspective

07/31/2025

By Pierre Tran

Paris – The key point on a planned European fighter jet lay in opting for clear program leadership with a prime contractor rather than assigning subcontractor work based on national funding, Dassault Aviation executive chairman Eric Trappier said July 22.

French officers had conducted “an audit on the efficiency of cooperation” on a new generation fighter (NGF), he told a news conference on first half 2025 financial results. Trappier was replying to a question on whether Dassault had claimed 80 pct work on the fighter project.

“We are not asking for 80 pct of work,” he said. “That is not a claim from Dassault.”

A corporate row between Dassault and its project partner Airbus Defence and Space appeared to have risen to the political summit. The issue of how to run a fighter program was due to be discussed by French President Emmanuel Macron and German Chancellor Friedrich Merz, when the leaders met July 23 for a working dinner in the leafy Berlin suburbs.

A French audit was conducted by the Direction Générale de l’Armement (DGA) procurement office, Trappier said, and presumably its Spanish and German counterparts.

“That aim was to improve governance,” he said. “A pilot” was needed to run the program.

That governance referred to how to manage the new fighter project, the critical pillar 1 in the future combat air system (FCAS) backed by France, Germany, and Spain. A combat cloud of command and communications network, and remote carriers – or combat drones – made up other parts of the complex airborne weapon system.

Timing was a factor, as a contract needed to be drafted for phase 2 in the fighter project. That phase 2 was due to begin in 2026, to fly a technology demonstrator in 2029/2030.

The row over program management was tied to work assigned to subcontractors, as Trappier insisted that Dassault should be free as architect and prime contractor to award work based on expertise of the subcontractors rather than on a contractual “juste retour” call on work share.

An active management approach conflicted with the present contractual arrangement, which designated Airbus DS as the lead subcontractor in Germany and Spain.

The contractual obligation for each of the three partner nations to receive one third of the work left Dassault constantly negotiating with the German and Spanish Airbus units which subcontractor should do the work, the French executive said.

Trappier appeared to cast doubt on the future combat air system, when asked whether Dassault would pull out of the project, in view of the corporate dispute.

“It is not a question of leaving FCAS but of deciding if it continues or not,” he said.

Merz has acknowledged there was contention on the fighter project, and has said he wanted to hold on to the existing juste retour approach, the Euractiv website reported July 9.

“I absolutely want us to stick to the agreement we made with Spain and France with regard to FCAS,” the German chancellor said, the website reported.

Merz has accepted there were “differences of opinion on the composition of the consortium,” and he hoped these would be resolved, the report said.

Neuron As Business Model

The European Neuron project was the business model best suited for the new fighter project, Trappier said. Dassault led a six-nation industrial partnership to build a technology demonstrator for an unmanned combat air vehicle, dubbed Neuron.

Sweden built the wings, he said, pointing up that a high value deal had been assigned to a partner nation.

Saab delivered the wings for the Neuron. Dassault placed that combat drone next to a Rafale fighter on prominent display at the Paris air show, which ran last month.

Airbus DS and the DGA procurement office were not available for comment.

Airbus DS has previously publicly accepted Dassault’s leadership on the fighter project, but insisted on receiving what it sees as its fair share of the work.

“What we don’t challenge is that there is an appointed leader for the fighter program,” Jean-Brice Dumont, head of air power at the Airbus unit, told June 17 reporters at the air show. “That leader is named Dassault Aviation.”

“Dassault has the lead of the so-called pillar one – NGWS (new generation weapon system).

There has to be an even share corresponding to the share of our governments. That doesn’t have to become toxic in the programme,” he said.

“We have to aim for something that is simple enough. Cooperation meant there would be interdependency, which had to be ‘healthy,’” he said.

Meanwhile, Dassault was working on development of an F4.3 version of the Rafale, Trappier said, and there was risk reduction on the F5 upgrade, expected to be delivered in 2035.

A combat drone based on Neuron was expected to fly with the Rafale F5, and it remained to be seen whether the upcoming military budget would set aside funds for development.

Dassault reported first half adjusted net profit fell to €386 million from €442 million a year ago, giving respectively net profit margins of 13.6 pct and 17.4 pct of net sales.

Operating profit rose to €180 million from €170 million, with operating profit margins of respectively 6.3 pct and 6.7 pct of net sales.

Net sales rose to €2.85 billion from €2.54 billion, with the delivery of seven Rafale, of which four were for export and three for France. That compared to six Rafale a year ago.

Orders rose to €8.1 billion, based on 26 Rafale export deals and eight Falcon, from €5.1 billion, comprising 18 Rafale exports and 11 Falcon.

The total order book rose to €48.3 billion, comprising 239 Rafale and 75 Falcon, from €43.2 billion on 220 fighters and 79 business jets.

Cash holdings rose to €9.5 billion from €8.4 billion.

Looking Back at 2019: Presaging the Future

07/30/2025

By Robbin Laird

The 2019 International Fighter Conference in Berlin brought together military leaders and industry representatives from nations living in the shadow of authoritarian powers. Their presentations, focused on airpower strategies for self-defense against existential threats from Russia and China, now read like a prophetic warning of conflicts to come. What seemed like contingency planning in 2019 became brutal reality just three years later.

Ukraine: From Deterrence to Actual War

Lieutenant General Vasyl Chernenko’s 2019 presentation on “Peculiarities of Employment Fighter Aviation” described Ukraine’s experience with Russian hybrid warfare following the 2014 seizure of Crimea. He spoke of the “sabotage-terrorist nature of the enemy’s actions” and the need for Ukrainian fighter aircraft to confront Russian air defense systems moved forward into contested areas.

His analysis proved devastatingly prescient. When Russia launched its full-scale invasion in February 2022, Ukraine faced exactly the scenarios Chernenko had outlined but magnified exponentially. The limited pilot training and “very limited” readiness of Ukraine’s legacy MiG-29s and Su-27s that he described became critical vulnerabilities when facing the full weight of Russian airpower.

The general’s emphasis on the need for Western counter-insurgency capabilities and airpower support foreshadowed the massive international military aid effort that would emerge. His warning that any Western assistance would trigger Russian “fake news” campaigns proved accurate, as Moscow’s disinformation apparatus worked overtime to frame NATO support as escalatory aggression.

Most remarkably, Chernenko’s focus on Ukraine’s need to “buy time for partners and allies to plug into one’s defensive system” became the fundamental strategy that allowed Ukraine to survive the initial assault and mount an effective resistance.

Lithuania: The Information Warfare Frontline

Colonel Dainius Guzas’s presentation on “Developing Capability Against a Peer Opponent” highlighted Lithuania’s dual challenge: direct Russian threats and sophisticated political warfare designed to undermine NATO cohesion. His documentation of Russian airspace violations and “fake news” campaigns targeting Lithuanian confidence in NATO allies provided an early warning of hybrid warfare tactics that would intensify dramatically.

The Baltic Air Policing mission that Guzas described as Lithuania’s window into NATO interoperability became a crucial proving ground. When tensions escalated following Russia’s 2022 invasion, the experience gained through hosting diverse NATO air forces proved invaluable for rapid coalition operations.

Guzas’s emphasis on the political dimension of airpower or how Russian disinformation sought to weaponize every NATO flight over Baltic airspace presaged the information warfare that would accompany kinetic operations in Ukraine. His insights into how authoritarian powers use political warfare to complement military pressure became a template for understanding broader Russian strategy.

Taiwan: The Growing Shadow

The presentations from Colonel Li-Chiang Yuan and Dr. Yu-Jiu Wang on Taiwan’s defense challenges have only grown more relevant. Yuan’s description of the People’s Republic of China’s “encirclement challenge” through South China Sea militarization has accelerated dramatically since 2019.

His concept of “multiple deterrence” which is the need for integrating active defense, air defense, and resilient ground forces anticipated the “porcupine strategy” that has become central to Taiwan’s defense planning. The emphasis on operating aircraft from highways and dispersed locations, inspired by Finnish models, reflected an understanding that traditional airfields would be primary targets in any conflict.

Dr. Wang’s focus on AESA radar technologies and C2/ISR integration proved remarkably forward-looking. The technological capabilities he projected have become essential elements of the “deterrence in depth” strategy that Taiwan and its allies continue to develop as Chinese military pressure intensifies.

Malaysia: The Connectivity Imperative

Major General Dato’ Muhamad Norazilan Bin Aris’s emphasis on “Striking the Balance Between Affordability and Capability” highlighted challenges that have only grown more acute. His focus on Link 16 capabilities for better integration with partner air forces, particularly Australia, anticipated the growing importance of coalition interoperability in contested regions.

Malaysia’s two-theater defense requirements and emphasis on maritime domain awareness presaged the multi-domain challenges that have become central to Indo-Pacific strategy. The Royal Malaysian Air Force’s focus on light attack aircraft for multiple roles reflected budget constraints that many nations now face as defense spending struggles to keep pace with growing threats.

Lessons Validated by History

Several key insights from the 2019 conference have proven remarkably prescient:

  • Self-Reliance as Foundation: Every presenter emphasized that nations in authoritarian neighborhoods must first be capable of self-defense to “buy time” for allied support. Ukraine’s initial resistance validated this principle entirely.
  • Dispersal and Resilience: The emphasis on operating from multiple locations, dispersed basing, and highway operations proved essential when traditional infrastructure became primary targets.
  • Political Warfare Integration: The recognition that military threats come wrapped in sophisticated information campaigns anticipated the hybrid nature of modern conflict.
  • Coalition Connectivity: The focus on interoperability and Link 16 capabilities reflected an understanding that no nation could stand alone against peer adversaries.
  • Technology as Equalizer: The emphasis on advanced radar systems, C2 integration, and networked operations presaged how smaller nations could leverage technology to offset numerical disadvantages.

The Prescient Warning

Perhaps most striking was the shared recognition among 2019 presenters that their nations faced “existential threats” requiring immediate attention, not distant contingency planning. While many in Western capitals still viewed major power competition as a manageable challenge, military leaders from frontline states understood the urgency of their situation.

Their focus on defensive capabilities that could deter aggression without threatening authoritarian homelands proved particularly insightful. This distinction between defensive deterrence and offensive threat has become central to alliance strategies aimed at avoiding escalation while maintaining credible defense.

Looking Forward

The 2019 International Fighter Conference presentations now read as a strategic warning that was largely unheeded until events forced recognition of their accuracy. The military leaders who spoke in Berlin understood their operational environment with a clarity that broader policy communities would only achieve through bitter experience.

As we face continued challenges from authoritarian powers, the insights shared in 2019 remain relevant. The emphasis on self-reliance, coalition interoperability, dispersed operations, and integrated deterrence strategies continues to guide defense planning for nations on freedom’s frontlines.

The tragedy is not that these military professionals lacked foresight — their analysis was remarkably accurate. The tragedy is that it took actual war to validate warnings that were clearly articulated years before the shooting started.

The featured photo shows President Tsai Ing-wen and senior Taiwanese military staff during an exercise in southern county Changhua, not far from one of the island’s main airbases at Taichung. Photo: Facebook

Airpower When Directly Faced with the Authoritarian Powers: The International Fighter Conference 2019

The Emergence of the Multi-Polar Authoritarian World: Looking Back from 2024