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The Guardian
09-08-2025
- Politics
- The Guardian
The lethal legacy of Aukus nuclear submarines will remain for millennia – and there's no plan to deal with it
In the cold deep waters of Rosyth Harbour lie the dormant hulks of Britain's decommissioned nuclear submarines. One of the shells lashed to the dock here is HMS Dreadnought, Britain's first nuclear-powered submarine. It was commissioned in 1963, retired in 1980, and has spent decades longer tied to a harbour than it ever did in service. The spent nuclear fuel removed from its reactor remains in temporary storage. For decades the UK has sought a solution to the nuclear waste its fleet of submarines generates. After decades of fruitless search there are 'ongoing discussions' but still no place for radioactive waste to be permanently stored. Similarly, in the US – the naval superpower which controls a vast landmass and which has run nuclear submarines since the 1950s – there is still no permanent storage for its submarines' nuclear waste. More than a hundred decommissioned radioactive reactors sit in an open-air pit in Washington state, on a former plutonium production site the state's government describes as 'one of the most contaminated nuclear sites in the world'. This is what becomes of nuclear-powered submarines at the end of their comparatively short life. A nuclear-powered submarine can expect a working life of three decades: the spent fuel of a submarine powered by highly enriched uranium can remain dangerously radioactive for millennia. Finland is building an underground waste repository to be sealed for 100,000 years. For Australia's proposed nuclear-powered submarine fleet there is, at present, nowhere for that radioactive spent fuel to go. As a non-nuclear country – and a party to the non-proliferation treaty – Australia has no history of, and no capacity for, managing high-level nuclear waste. But Australia is not alone: there is no operational site anywhere on Earth for the permanent storage of high-level nuclear waste. Documents released under freedom of information laws show that, beginning in the 2050s, each of Australia's decommissioned Aukus submarines will generate both intermediate- and high-level radioactive waste: a reactor compartment and components 'roughly the size of a four-wheel drive'; and spent nuclear fuel 'roughly the size of a small hatchback'. The Australian Submarine Agency says the exact amount of high-level waste Australia will be responsible for is 'classified'. Sign up: AU Breaking News email Because Australia's submarines will run on highly enriched uranium (as opposed to low enriched uranium – which can power a submarine but cannot be used in a warhead) the waste left behind is not only toxic for millennia, it is a significant proliferation risk: highly enriched uranium can be used to make weapons. The eight nuclear-powered submarines proposed for Australia's navy will require roughly four tonnes of highly enriched uranium to fuel their sealed reactor units: enough for about 160 nuclear warheads on some estimates. The spent fuel will require military-grade security to safeguard it. The problems raised by Australia's critics of Aukus are legion: the agreement's $368bn cost; the lopsided nature of the pact in favour of the US; sclerotic rates of shipbuilding in the US and the UK, raising concerns that Australia's nuclear submarines might never arrive; the loss of Australian sovereignty over those boats if they do arrive; the potential obsolescence of submarine warfare; and whether Aukus could make Australia a target in an Indo-Pacific conflict. All are grave concerns for a middle power whose security is now more tightly bound by Aukus to an increasingly unreliable 'great and powerful friend'. But the most intractable concern is what will happen to the nuclear waste. It is a problem that will outlive the concept of Australia as a nation-state, that will extend millennia beyond the comprehension of anybody reading these words, that will still be a problem when Australia no longer exists. And it cannot be exported. The Aukus agreement expressly states that dealing with the submarines' nuclear waste is solely Australia's responsibility. 'Australia shall be responsible for the management, disposition, storage, and disposal of any spent nuclear fuel and radioactive waste … including radioactive waste generated through submarine operations, maintenance, decommissioning, and disposal,' Article IV, subclause D of the treaty states. As well, should anything go wrong, at any point, with Australia's nuclear submarines, the risk is all on Australia. 'Australia shall indemnify … the United States and the United Kingdom against any liability, loss, costs, damage or injury … resulting from Nuclear Risks connected with the design, manufacture, assembly, transfer, or utilization of any Material or Equipment, including Naval Nuclear Propulsion Plants,' subclause E states. ''Nuclear Risks',' the treaty states, 'means those risks attributable to the radioactive, toxic, explosive, or other hazardous properties of material.' An emeritus professor at Griffith University's school of environment and science, Ian Lowe, tells Guardian Australia that the government's regime for storing low-level nuclear waste is a 'shambles'. He says the government's 'decide and defend' model for choosing a permanent waste storage site has consistently failed. 'You currently have radioactive waste from Lucas Heights, from Fishermans Bend, and from nuclear medicine and research all around Australia, just stored in cupboards and filing cabinets and temporary sheds,' Lowe says. 'The commonwealth government has made three attempts to establish a national facility – it's a repository if you're in favour of it, it's a waste dump if you're opposed – and on every occasion there's been local opposition, particularly opposition from Indigenous landowners, and on each of those three occasions … the proposal has collapsed.' Most of Australia's low-level and intermediate nuclear waste – much of it short-lived medical waste – is stored at the Australian Nuclear Science and Technology Organisation facility in Lucas Heights in outer Sydney. Lowe says the nuclear safety regulator, ARPANSA, does a commendable job in protecting the public but the facility was never intended to be permanent. Australia has been searching for a permanent site for nuclear waste for nearly three decades. Its approach – derided by Lowe as 'decide and defend': where government chooses a place to put radioactive waste and then defends the decision against community opposition – has failed in Woomera, in central South Australia, in the late 1990s, then Muckaty station in the Northern Territory, then on farmland near Kimba, again in SA. The federal court ruled against the Kimba plan in 2023, after a challenge from the traditional owners, the Barngarla people, who had been excluded from consultation. Lowe, the author of Long Half-Life: The Nuclear Industry in Australia, says the complexities and risks of storing high-level nuclear waste from a submarine are factors greater than the low- and intermediate-level waste Australia now manages. Sign up to Breaking News Australia Get the most important news as it breaks after newsletter promotion 'The waste from nuclear submarines is much nastier and much more intractable,' he says. 'And because they use weapons-grade highly enriched uranium there is the greater security issue of needing to make sure that not only do you need to protect against that waste irradiating people and the environment, you must also ensure that malevolent actors, who have in mind a malicious use of highly enriched uranium, can't get their hands on it.' Australia's decision to use highly enriched uranium to power its submarines, as opposed to low enriched uranium (reactors would need refuelling each decade), is a 'classic case of kicking the can down the road and creating a problem for future generations', Lowe argues. 'In the short term, it's better to have highly enriched uranium and a sealed reactor that you never need to maintain during the life of the submarine. But at the end of the life of the submarine, you have a much more serious problem.' The high-level nuclear waste from Australia's submarines will be hazardous for 'hundreds of thousands of years,' Lowe says. 'There are arguments about whether it's 300,000 or 500,000 or 700,000 years, but we're talking a period at least as long as humans have existed as an identifiably separate species. The time horizon for political decision makers is typically four or five years: the time horizon of what we're talking about is four or five hundred thousand years, so there's an obvious disconnect.' The US and the UK have run nuclear-powered (and nuclear-armed) submarines for decades. In the UK, 23 nuclear submarines have been decommissioned, none have been dismantled, 10 remained nuclear-fuelled. Most are sitting in water in docks in Scotland and on England's south-west coast. The first submarine to be disposed of – the cold war-era HMS Swiftsure was retired from service in 1992 – will be finally dismantled in 2026. Keeping decommissioned nuclear subs afloat and secure costs the UK upwards of £30m a year. There is still no site for permanent storage of their radioactive waste: there has been 'progress and ongoing discussions', the defence minister, Lord Coaker, told the House of Lords last year, but still no site. The UK has about 700,000 cubic metres of toxic waste, roughly the volume of 6,000 doubledecker buses. Much of it is stored at Sellafield in Cumbria, a site described by the Office for Nuclear Regulation says as 'one of the most complex and hazardous nuclear sites in the world'. In the US, contaminated reactors from more than 100 retired submarines are stored in 'Trench 94' – a massive open pit at the Hanford nuclear site in Washington state. Spent nuclear fuel is also sent to the Idaho National Laboratory and sites in South Carolina and Colorado. Hanford is designed to last 300 years but the site has a chequered history of pollution and radiation leaks. Washington state describes it as 'one of the most contaminated nuclear sites in the world'. Finland is the first country to devise a permanent solution. It is building an underground facility 450 metres below ground, buried in the bedrock of the island of Olkiluoto. The Onkalo – Finnish for cave or cavity – facility has taken more than 40 years to build (the site was chosen by government in 1983) and has cost €1bn. It is now undergoing trials. In March 2023 Australia's defence minister, Richard Marles, said high-level nuclear waste would be stored on 'defence land, current or future', raising the prospect that a site could be identified and then declared 'defence land'. A process for establishing a site would be publicly revealed 'within 12 months', he said. That process has not been announced nor a site identified. Australia will require a site for high-level nuclear waste from the 'early 2050s', according to the Australian Submarine Agency. Senate estimates heard last year that there have been no costings committed for the storage of spent fuel. And preparing a site for storing high-level radioactive waste for millennia will take decades. Guardian Australia sent a series of questions to Marles' office about the delayed process for selecting a site. A spokesperson for the Australian Submarine Agency responded, saying: 'The government is committed to the highest levels of nuclear stewardship, including the safe and secure disposal of waste. 'As the Government has said, the disposal of high-level radioactive waste won't be required until the 2050s, when Australia's first nuclear-powered submarine is expected to be decommissioned.' The spokesperson confirmed that Australia would be responsible for all of the spent nuclear fuel and radioactive waste generated from the Aukus submarines: it would not have responsibility for intermediate- or high-level radioactive waste – including spent fuel – from the US, UK or any other country. No permanent storage site had been identified for low-level radioactive waste, which would include waste from foreign submarines. The government has consistently said it will engage extensively with industry, nuclear experts and affected communities to build a social licence for a permanent storage site. But Dave Sweeney of the Australian Conservation Foundation says he has seen little evidence of genuine effort to build social licence. The leaders who signed the Aukus deal – and those who continue to support it – have failed to comprehend the consequences beyond their political careers, he says. 'None of the leaders who announced Aukus are in power any more,' he tells the Guardian. 'One hundred thousand years from now, who knows what the world looks like, but Australia, whatever is here then, will still be dealing with the consequences of that high-level waste.' Sweeney says the 'opacity' of the decision-making around the Aukus agreement itself is compounded by fears that the deal could be only the beginning of a nuclear industry expansion in Australia. 'We see this as a Trojan horse to expanding, facilitating, empowering the nuclear industry, emboldening the nuclear industry everywhere,' he says. 'It is creepy, controversial, costly, contaminating, and leading to vastly decreased security and options for regional and global peace.' Beyond the astronomical cost of the submarine deal, its the true burden would be borne by innumerable future generations. 'We are talking thousands and thousands of years: it is an invisible pervasive pollutant and contaminant and the only thing that gets rid of it is time. And with the whole Aukus deal, that's what we're running out of.'
Japan Times
04-08-2025
- Business
- Japan Times
U.K. military rhetoric is not matching fiscal reality
Not long before World War I, HMS Dreadnought, a battleship that made all existing vessels obsolete, was launched at Portsmouth in the presence of the King-Emperor Edward VII. Fire-breathing patriots soon took up the cry, "We want eight and we won't wait.' Winston Churchill, then a young home secretary in a government committed to spending more on welfare, wryly noted of the popular clamor for a naval race with Germany: "The Admiralty had demanded six ships; the economists offered four; and we finally compromised on eight.' British debates about defense spending follow a familiar trajectory, although this time it's politicians, rather than civilians, insisting that more should be spent on firepower. A military revolution in warfare is under way, too. Drones, off-the-shelf technology far cheaper than dreadnoughts, are being deployed to lethal effect on the battlefields of Ukraine and further afield — the daring "Spider Web" raid recently destroyed as much as a third of Russia's strategic bombing force based thousands of miles away from Europe. But the U.K. needs to replace expensive military hardware too and make good shortages of munitions. Economists fear the government can't afford the outlay without large tax increases. Who will prevail? In a speech prior to the publication of his government's Strategic Defence Review (SDR) recently, Prime Minister Keir Starmer sounded eerily reminiscent of an old-fashioned jingoist, circa 1914. Britain, he said, faces a threat "more serious, more immediate and more unpredictable than at any time since the Cold War.' The U.K. needs to move to "war-fighting readiness.' Alas, reality and rhetoric don't match. U.K. defense spending is planned to rise to only 2.5% of gross domestic product by 2027, with a notional ambition to reach 3% by the mid-2030s. In the 1980s, at the end of the Cold War, it stood at almost 4%. When the dogged Defense Secretary John Healey attempted to impose a fixed timeline for a bigger military budget, he was immediately slapped down by the Treasury. Within days, however, the NATO trumped Starmer. The Western Alliance has reached near consensus on a 5% commitment, with 3.5% going directly on the armed services and a further 1.5% on related spending. On June 5, U.S. Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth, ordered Starmer to saddle up, saying "it is important that the U.K. gets there.' On June 3, German Defense Secretary Boris Pistorius talked of raising expenditure by annual increments to reach 5% of GDP, aimed at creating the strongest conventional army in Europe. At home, the popular hue and cry is not for an arms race with Russia, which remains a niche preoccupation at Westminster and in security circles, but for reversing cuts to pensioners' winter-fuel allowances. Labour's backbenchers oppose projected welfare reductions. Meanwhile, the economists warn that the bond market won't countenance more borrowing to pay for guns or butter — gilt yields remain elevated amid jitters over the Trump administration's ballooning deficit. Chancellor of the Exchequer Rachel Reeves rules out raising taxes in the autumn — though few believe her. Something's got to give. U.K. prime ministers have a habit of over-promising and under-delivering on military commitments. Starmer's Conservative predecessors squandered the Cold War peace dividend for over a decade even as Russia rearmed and attacked its neighbors. Wishful thinking can also lead to embarrassment. Starmer recently proclaimed "a coalition of the willing' ready to take the place of the U.S. in policing a ceasefire in Ukraine by dispatching a "reassurance force.' Washington, however, refused to offer air cover — and in any case the British Army has shrunk to 70,000, levels last seen before the war with Napoleon — so the U.K. can no longer assemble an expeditionary force. The best it can offer Ukraine is a support mission. As for crippling the Russian war effort, the U.K., like other European nations, sanctioned Russian oil and gas after its invasion of Ukraine. But according to a new study by the Centre for Research on Energy and Clean Air, the value of Russian crude oil and liquid natural gas shipped under British ownership or insurance since the war began tops £200 billion ($270 billion). A dark fleet of ships working for the Russians supplements the trade. The government is wary of severing these links for fear of triggering another energy price rise spiral and a round of the ruinous inflation and cost of living crisis that sank its Tory predecessor. To be fair, the SDR has met a mostly warm reception from military specialists. At least it puts the focus back on the European theater — previous reviews suggested fanciful scenarios in which British aircraft carriers, without a full complement of aircraft and naval escorts, might be deployed to Asia. With commendable honesty, the authors of the recent report also own up to "the hollowing out of the armed forces warfighting capability' and cite inadequate stockpiles of munitions after years of "underinvestment.' Without a rapid improvement in military housing and in the absence of conscription, army numbers are unlikely to rise. With its suggestion that the U.K. should build up its maritime forces — namely the Trident nuclear deterrent and the commissioning of 12 new attack submarines — the SDR implies the U.K. is set on going back to a strategic stance familiar to Churchill and his contemporaries in 1914, known to historians as the "British Way of Warfare," avoiding a continental military commitment at scale. Today, however, the Royal Navy no longer rules the waves as it did in 1914. That means cutting back on the rhetoric and working closely with allies to deploy the few troops available for land-based conflict. "This is a once-in-a-generation inflection point for collective security in Europe,' concludes the SDR. Unless British public opinion changes, however, the U.K.'s neglect of its military needs and obligations looks set to continue. Martin Ivens is the editor of the Times Literary Supplement.
Mint
07-06-2025
- Business
- Mint
UK Military Rhetoric Doesn't Match Fiscal Reality
(Bloomberg Opinion) -- Not long before World War I, HMS Dreadnought, a battleship that made all existing vessels obsolete, was launched at Portsmouth in the presence of the King-Emperor Edward VII. Fire-breathing patriots soon took up the cry, 'We want eight and we won't wait.' Winston Churchill, then a young home secretary in a government committed to spending more on welfare, wryly noted of the popular clamor for a naval race with Germany: 'The Admiralty had demanded six ships; the economists offered four; and we finally compromised on eight.' British debates about defense spending follow a familiar trajectory, although this time it's politicians, rather than civilians, insisting that more should be spent on firepower. A military revolution in warfare is underway, too. Drones, off-the-shelf technology far cheaper than Dreadnoughts, are being deployed to lethal effect on the battlefields of Ukraine and further afield - the daring 'Spider Web' raid last weekend destroyed as much as a third of Russia's strategic bombing force based thousands of miles away from Europe. But the UK needs to replace expensive military hardware too, and make good shortages of munitions. Economists fear the government can't afford the outlay without large tax increases. Who will prevail? In a speech prior to the publication of his government's Strategic Defence Review (SDR) this week, Prime Minister Keir Starmer sounded eerily reminiscent of an old-fashioned jingoist, circa 1914. Britain, he said, faces a threat 'more serious, more immediate and more unpredictable than at any time since the Cold War.' The UK needs to move to 'war-fighting readiness.' Alas, reality and rhetoric don't match. UK defense spending is planned to rise to only 2.5% of gross domestic product by 2027, with a notional ambition to reach 3% by the mid-2030s. In the 1980s, at the end of the Cold War, it stood at almost 4%. When the dogged Defence Secretary John Healey attempted to impose a fixed timeline for a bigger military budget, he was immediately slapped down by the Treasury. Within days, however, the North Atlantic Treaty Organization trumped Starmer. The Western Alliance has reached near consensus on a 5% commitment, with 3.5% going directly on the armed services and a further 1.5% on related spending. On Thursday, US Secretary of Defense Peter Hegseth, ordered Starmer to saddle up, saying 'it is important that the UK gets there.' On Tuesday, German Defense Secretary Boris Pistorius talked of raising expenditure by annual increments to reach 5% of GDP, aimed at creating the strongest conventional army in Europe. At home, the popular hue and cry is not for an arms race with Russia, which remains a niche preoccupation at Westminster and in security circles, but for reversing cuts to pensioners' winter-fuel allowances. Labour's backbenchers oppose projected welfare reductions. Meanwhile, the economists warn that the bond market won't countenance more borrowing to pay for guns or butter - gilt yields remain elevated amid jitters over the Trump administration's ballooning deficit. Chancellor of the Exchequer Rachel Reeves rules out raising taxes in the autumn — though few believe her. Something's got to give. UK prime ministers have a habit of over-promising and under-delivering on military commitments. Starmer's Conservative predecessors squandered the Cold War peace dividend for over a decade even as Russia rearmed and attacked its neighbors. Wishful thinking can also lead to embarrassment. Starmer recently proclaimed 'a coalition of the willing' ready to take the place of the US in policing a ceasefire in Ukraine by dispatching a 'reassurance force.' Washington, however, refused to offer air cover — and in any case the British army has shrunk to 70,000, levels last seen before the war with Napoleon — so the UK can no longer assemble an expeditionary force. The best it can offer Ukraine is a support mission. As for crippling the Russian war effort, the UK, like other European nations, sanctioned Russian oil and gas after its invasion of Ukraine. But according to a new study by the Centre for Research on Energy and Clean Air (CREA), the value of Russian crude oil and liquid natural gas shipped under British ownership or insurance since the war began tops £200 billion ($270 billion). A dark fleet of ships working for the Russians supplements the trade. The government is wary of severing these links for fear of triggering another energy price rise spiral and a round of the ruinous inflation and cost of living crisis that sank its Tory predecessor. To be fair, the SDR has met a mostly warm reception from military specialists. At least it puts the focus back on the European theater — previous reviews suggested fanciful scenarios in which British aircraft carriers, without a full complement of aircraft and naval escorts, might be deployed to Asia. With commendable honesty, the authors of this week's report also own up to 'the hollowing out of the Armed Forces warfighting capability' and cite inadequate stockpiles of munitions after years of 'underinvestment.' Without a rapid improvement in military housing and in the absence of conscription, army numbers are unlikely to rise. With its suggestion that the UK should build up its maritime forces — namely the Trident nuclear deterrent and the commissioning of 12 new attack submarines — the SDR implies the UK is set on going back to a strategic stance familiar to Churchill and his contemporaries in 1914, known to historians as the British Way of Warfare, avoiding a continental military commitment at scale. Today, however, the Royal Navy no longer rules the waves as it did in 1914. That means cutting back on the rhetoric and working closely with allies to deploy the few troops available for land-based conflict. 'This is a once-in-a-generation inflection point for collective security in Europe,' concludes the SDR. Unless British public opinion changes, however, the UK's neglect of its military needs and obligations looks set to continue. More from Bloomberg Opinion: This column reflects the personal views of the author and does not necessarily reflect the opinion of the editorial board or Bloomberg LP and its owners. Martin Ivens is the editor of the Times Literary Supplement. Previously, he was editor of the Sunday Times of London and its chief political commentator. More stories like this are available on
Bloomberg
07-06-2025
- Politics
- Bloomberg
UK Military Rhetoric Doesn't Match Fiscal Reality
Not long before World War I, HMS Dreadnought, a battleship that made all existing vessels obsolete, was launched at Portsmouth in the presence of the King-Emperor Edward VII. Fire-breathing patriots soon took up the cry, 'We want eight and we won't wait.' Winston Churchill, then a young home secretary in a government committed to spending more on welfare, wryly noted of the popular clamor for a naval race with Germany: 'The Admiralty had demanded six ships; the economists offered four; and we finally compromised on eight.' British debates about defense spending follow a familiar trajectory, although this time it's politicians, rather than civilians, insisting that more should be spent on firepower. A military revolution in warfare is underway, too. Drones, off-the-shelf technology far cheaper than Dreadnoughts, are being deployed to lethal effect on the battlefields of Ukraine and further afield - the daring 'Spider Web' raid last weekend destroyed as much as a third of Russia's strategic bombing force based thousands of miles away from Europe.
Yahoo
20-04-2025
- Science
- Yahoo
See the world's first drone aircraft carriers
A race is on to build a revolutionary new class of ship: Drone aircraft carriers. Tech advances suggest drones may pack some punch at a fraction of an aircraft carrier's cost. BI assessed the naval race through three of the world's first drone carriers. China recently launched the world's largest amphibious assault ship. Its features drove widespread speculation that it was the world's first purpose-built drone carrier. China would be the third country to operate a drone carrier. Two others — Turkey and Iran — have adapted existing ships to launch aerial drones. Drone carriers are a relatively new concept previously reserved for science fiction and defense industry trade shows. These ships mark what could be a new era of warship construction akin to the launching of HMS Dreadnought in 1906, which revolutionized battleship design. They capitalize on the growing reach of drones and the ability of a large ship to rapidly launch them near an enemy's shores. The specifics of what constitutes a drone carrier and its military value are hotly debated, much as other ship classes have been in history. In the most literal sense, virtually any ship can be a drone carrier, as almost all ships are capable of launching handheld drones. Even larger drones that require the use of a small catapult and recovery net, like the AAI RQ-2 Pioneer and the Boeing Insitu RQ-21 Blackjack, have been used on all kinds of US Navy vessels since the mid-1980s. Larger fixed-wing drones have also operated on the decks of aircraft carriers and amphibious assault ships before. In 2013, Northrup Grumman's X-47B demonstrator was launched from and landed on the deck of the USS George H. W. Bush, and, more recently, General Atomics' Gray Eagle STOL UAV took off from a South Korean amphibious assault ship. Long before those two, the US Navy's TDN-1 drones demonstrated the ability to take off from carriers in 1944. But those efforts were largely tests or one-offs. The concept of a drone carrier goes well beyond: a ship with a large flight deck designed to launch waves of drones, much like an aircraft carrier sorties piloted aircraft. In essence, it is a dedicated, purpose-built drone carrier. There's disagreement over which country has technically built the first drone carrier — much like the debate over who built the first aircraft carrier in the early 20th century. And the contestants in this race are countries that haven't traditionally been the world's leading global navies. Turkey is the first country to claim the commissioning of a drone carrier. Ordered in 2015, launched in 2018, and commissioned in 2023, TCG Anadolu is 757 feet long and displaces 27,436 tons. It is the Turkish Navy's most advanced vessel and current flagship. Though the Turkish government claims 70% of Anadolu was built with domestic components, the ship's design is that of Spain's Juan Carlos I amphibious assault ship. Like its Spanish forebear, Anadolu was originally intended to carry an air wing of helicopters and manned short take-off and vertical landing (STOVL) jets — specifically American F-35B stealth strike fighters. However, in 2019, Turkey was kicked out of the F-35 program due to its purchase of Russian-made S-400 surface-to-air missile systems, which US and NATO officials worried could be used to gather intelligence on the F-35. Rather than limit Anadolu's air wing to just helicopters, the Turks opted to repurpose the ship into the world's first drone carrier, relying on its world-class drone industry to provide the aircraft. Two drone models will operate from the Anadolu: the Bayraktar TB3 and the Bayraktar Kızılelma. Both were developed by the well-known maker Baykar. The TB3 is a navalized variant of the company's combat-proven propeller-driven TB2 drone that features folding wings, a strengthened suspension, and a more powerful engine. Baykar says it has an endurance of over 21 hours and can carry up to 617 pounds of ordnance. It can be used for both surveillance and strike missions, especially against enemies with no or low-tier air defenses. Baykar describes the Kızılelma as a "fighter UAV" that features a turbofan jet engine enabling it to reach a max speed of Mach 0.9 and fly as high as 45,000 feet. It can also carry 3,300 pounds of weapons on external hardpoints and in internal weapons bays. Turkish officials have said that the Anadolu's air wing will be composed of 12 unmanned combat aircraft. The ship can also carry AH-1W Cobra and T129 attack helicopters and SH-60B Seahawks. In November, the TB3 made history by successfully taking off from and landing on the TCG Anadolu, becoming the first fixed-wing drone to take off and land on a short-deck ship. In January, a TB3 successfully conducted its first strike against a mock target. On February 6, Iran became the second country to claim the commissioning of a drone carrier. The vessel, known as the Shahid Bahman Bagheri, is a converted container ship. Conversion began in 2022, when an angled flight deck was added to its hull. In 2023, a similarly angled ski-jump ramp pointing starboard was added at the bow. The design means that wheeled drones will take off and land at an angle, a system likely pursued for practical reasons to avoid obstruction by the ship's tower. According to Iranian officials, Shahid Bahman Bagheri has a 590-foot flight deck, a displacement of 41,978 tons, a range of 22,000 nautical miles, and the ability to carry and deploy armed fast-attack craft. The ship could be a showcase for Iran's potent drone technology, which has helped Russia repeatedly strike Ukraine. Tehran has publicized footage of multiple drone models on the ship. These include two Mohajer-6 reconnaissance/strike drones, an apparently modified Ababil-3 reconnaissance/strike drone which was seen launching from the Bagheri's deck, and two small Homa drones. The most intriguing model, however, is a new UAV apparently based on a planned indigenous stealth fighter project that was known as the Qaher-313. Little is known of this new drone. Seven were recorded on Bagheri's deck in two variants, both of which were smaller than the previously seen Qaher-313 prototype. Some have speculated that the four larger models may be able to carry weapons internally to reduce their radar return. Only the smaller variant has been seen taking off and landing on Bagheri, propelled by a small jet engine. Bagheri's air wing may eventually include navalized variants of other models, as well as loitering munitions like the Shahed-136 that has been routinely used to attack Ukraine. Bagheri is also claimed to be able to launch unmanned submersible vessels as well. The Bagheri is part of the naval branch of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, a paramilitary organization that has acquired a number of sophisticated sea-going vessels in recent years. China's entry into the drone carrier race was launched on December 27. Named Sichuan, the ship is based on China's Type 075-class amphibious assault ship, and has been modified for better flight ops, including changes like the positioning of its elevators and two command islands. The lead ship of the Type 076-class, Sichuan measures 853 feet long and reportedly displaces over 40,000 tons, making it the largest amphibious assault ship in the world. It is slightly longer than the 844-foot America-class LHA. Sichuan's defining features are the large catapult embedded on its port side and arresting gear on its deck — firsts for any amphibious assault ship. The catapult can launch fixed-wing aircraft while its arresting gear enables fixed-wing landings. With no crewed short-landing and take-off aircraft in Chinese service, there is little doubt that Sichuan's air wing is meant to be mostly unmanned. The most likely model would be the GJ-11 Sharp Sword, a jet-powered stealthy flying wing design believed to be intended for strike missions. Images of GJ-11 mockups from airshows show two internal weapon bays that some speculate may be able to carry over 4,400 pounds of ordnance. A concept video from the Aviation Industry Corporation of China, the drone's state-owned manufacturer, shows a ship-launched GJ-11 deploying six decoy aircraft to confuse an enemy ship's air defenses and possibly launch electronic warfare attacks. The GJ-11 may also serve as a "loyal wingman" to manned fighter jets, possibly supplementing Chinese carrier-borne J-15 fighters and J-35 stealth fighters. Given its size, Sichuan may be able to carry as many as a dozen GJ-11s. Its future air wing may also consist of navalized variants of other drones in China's inventory or under development. Of the three ships, only Anadolu and Bagheri have been commissioned into official service. Anadolu has participated in naval exercises while Bagheri conducted sea trials in the Persian Gulf late last year and has since sailed with other IRGCN vessels. Sichuan, meanwhile, is finishing up final fitting out in preparation for its first sea trials. Drone carriers are valuable not only for their ability to deploy uncrewed reconnaissance/strike aircraft. They can also help save on costs: training drone pilots is easier and faster than training jet pilots, and it's likely faster and cheaper to replace lost UAVs. With navies looking to unmanned assets to increase their numbers while limiting serious losses, drone carriers are likely to play an increasingly important role in the future. Benjamin Brimelow is a freelance journalist covering international military and defense issues. He holds a master's degree in Global Affairs with a concentration in international security from the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy. His work has appeared in Business Insider and the Modern War Institute at West Point. Read the original article on Business Insider
