2025-12-17 01:32:07
Vasily Piskarev, head of the State Duma Commission for Foreign Interference, announced a list of new restrictions on Russians living abroad that are likely to be approved and signed into law in January.
The Piskarev commission was formed in March 2022, immediately after the launch of the full-scale invasion of Ukraine, and has since served as a key instrument in helping the Kremlin legalize its crackdown on the Russian anti-war movement, both within the country and beyond.
Piskarev himself is one of Putin’s top attack dogs: he began his career in the prosecutor’s office in the St. Petersburg region — Putin’s power base — before moving to Moscow in the mid-2000s to work under Alexander Bastrykin, Putin’s close ally and the founder of the Investigative Committee — an ever-expanding repressive body tasked with enforcing legal persecution of the Kremlin’s opponents and critics. Two years after the annexation of Crimea, Piskarev was elected to the Duma as a member of the Supreme Council of Putin’s United Russia party.
The measures he has proposed amount to a sweeping suspension of basic civil rights and are explicitly aimed at the large numbers of political émigrés who have fled to escape the regime’s grasp.
It is a comprehensive strategy designed to destroy the lives of opponents. Piskarev’s list includes measures designed to destroy an émigré’s economic base. These include a ban of the sale of apartments or cars left behind in Russia; bans on access to state and municipal services online, and to Russian banking services.
The draft also targets émigrés at a more fundamental level. It strips them of access to basic state functions, banning them from all kinds of registration services, including marriage (and apparently even death) and the issuance of any documents. Applications to renounce Russian citizenship would no longer be accepted, while expired Russian passports would not be renewed.
Émigrés would also be deprived of powers of attorney, which would cut them off from any legal or practical control over their affairs inside Russia.
The Kremlin also appears determined to use every tool at its disposal to make life harder for its opponents abroad — even resorting to measures as petty as the cancellation of driver’s licenses.
The group of potential victims of the new legislation includes more than 1,100 people officially designated as “foreign agents” (among them the authors of this article), as well as the many thousands who have been detained or arrested for “spreading fake news about the Russian army,” who protested against the war since February 2022 and then found a way to leave, plus thousands more Russians who continue to attend anti-war protest rallies abroad, but who have until now been spared the Kremlin’s spite.
The measures are clearly designed to intimidate and harass, and their targets will be made deliberately visible. One provision calls for the creation of a blacklist of individuals subjected to the new restrictions. The list would be maintained on a government website and made openly accessible.
Russia has a long history of blacklisting entire categories of its own citizens. In this sense, the proposed measures echo the fate of the so-called “former people,” or lishentsy (“the deprived”), in the 1920s and 1930s. Officially, members of the former ruling classes were merely stripped of their voting rights. In reality, they — along with their families — were shut out of employment, education, and public life altogether.
The difference is that Soviet legislation targeted those who remained inside the country, while Piskarev’s draft is aimed explicitly at those who left.
The language used leaves little room for compromise: there is no invitation to return, under any circumstances, only the promise of relentless, merciless pressure.
Since the start of the full-scale invasion, the Kremlin has been deliberately framing political émigrés as enemy agents — and this enemy is the “collective West” or NATO, rather than Ukraine.
Piskarev justified the proposed measures by claiming that “over the past five years, there has been a clear increase in politically motivated denials of extradition, particularly by NATO countries,” adding that the West “actively uses those fugitives who depend on it [Western support], in its anti-Russian activities.”
And with such enemies, there can be only complete destruction — this appears to be the Kremlin’s message.
Irina Borogan and Andrei Soldatov are Non-resident Senior Fellows with the Center for European Policy Analysis (CEPA). They are Russian investigative journalists and co-founders of Agentura.ru, a watchdog of Russian secret service activities. Their book ’Our Dear Friends in Moscow, The Inside Story of a Broken Generation’ was published in June.
Europe’s Edge is CEPA’s online journal covering critical topics on the foreign policy docket across Europe and North America. All opinions expressed on Europe’s Edge are those of the author alone and may not represent those of the institutions they represent or the Center for European Policy Analysis. CEPA maintains a strict intellectual independence policy across all its projects and publications.
Russia’s Shadow Warfare
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2025-12-17 01:22:54
Chairman Self, Ranking Member Keating, Members of the Committee:
Thank you for the opportunity to testify on a threat landscape that strikes at the foundations of US national security and undermines American strategic influence: Russia’s broad-spectrum warfare across Europe, and China’s pivotal enabling role in sustaining and amplifying these efforts.
It is an honor to address you, and I should note that the views expressed in this testimony do not reflect those of the Center for European Policy Analysis (CEPA) or its staff and fellows.
Today, I will focus on several critical points that relate to the ways Russia’s multidimensional form of warfare—reinforced by China’s economic, technological, informational, and diplomatic support—is designed to constrain America’s ability to lead, deter, and compete globally.
This is not an abstract challenge. It is a systemic assault on free societies that is being waged by ambitious dictatorships which themselves deny their own people basic freedoms. The principles by which the authoritarians operate should be understood as stemming from an ideological posture that “privileges state power over individual liberty and is fundamentally hostile to free expression, open debate, and independent thought.” This posture is at direct odds with the values and interests of the United States and other free societies.
For its part, domestically the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) uses extensive state power to suppress dissent. Abroad, where the possibility for such direct coercion is more limited, Beijing relies on educational, cultural, media, and other overseas platforms to extend its influence within open societies. Such initiatives are not benign. Instead, more often than not they are “accompanied by an authoritarian determination to monopolize ideas, suppress alternative narratives, and exploit partner institutions”. This is an exertion of sharp power that frequently involves inducements to censorship and manipulation to degrade the integrity of independent institutions.1 China and Russia together represent among the world’s most repressive censorship regimes; they seek by their nature to eliminate free speech domestically and export the tools to do so abroad.
Today’s leading authoritarian powers are internationalists. The authorities in Russia and China—increasingly working in concert with a networked grouping of like-minded autocratic regimes—have strong ideas about the way the world should be organized, and they are operationalizing their ambitions with purpose. We should not underestimate the velocity of change or the depth of purpose with which these authoritarian powers are proceeding. A report CEPA released in November 2025 titled “War Without End: Russia’s Shadow Warfare” puts the threat into context and dissects the logic that underpins Moscow’s progressively brazen approach.
“War Without End” observes that “the Kremlin’s overriding concern is not Russian national security, but the survival and continuation of the current regime—or, rather, the Kremlin’s worldview is incapable of distinguishing between the two”. It adds that “Russia’s shadow warfare is not simply a covert strategy, developed to take advantage of Western soft spots or fecklessness. Rather, it is the reflection of a deeper ideological and institutional logic, a neo-Stalinist threat framework that sees warfare as continuous and ubiquitous, that fuses domestic and foreign threats, and that understands everything and everyone as a potential target”.
Critically, the report argues that Russia’s leadership already believes that it is at war with the West, even if many Western democracies still do not see it this way. The Kremlin, moreover, does not compartmentalize the various wars it is prosecuting; it views its full-scale war on Ukraine and its shadow warfare in Europe as two, linked fronts in the same, wider conflict against the West.2
Another CEPA report, released this month—“The Hybrid Threat Imperative: Deterring Russia Before it is Too Late”—observes that “the turning point in global awareness of Russia’s hybrid strategy came with its 2014 annexation of Crimea and intervention in eastern Ukraine”.3 This point is an important reminder that Moscow has been waging a far longer-term effort to subvert the western alliance that is best understood as one of imperial ambition. As with the leadership in Beijing, top decision makers in Moscow see no clear line between war and peace. Under Vladimir Putin, Moscow’s wide-ranging sub-threshold aggression across Europe is bound to continue, even if a cessation to hostilities may be achieved in Ukraine.
For the purposes of this testimony, I will focus in the first instance on Russia’s shadow warfare, a crucial dimension of Moscow’s playbook that represents a concerted campaign of kinetic attacks designed to degrade an adversary without provoking a military reprisal. Then, I will turn to China’s role as muscular enabler and crucial champion of Russia’s activities. Finally, I will touch on the larger implications of what might be understood as a deepening “shared consciousness” between the leaderships in Moscow and Beijing.
Russia’s shadow warfare aims to weaken US power and has the effect of undermining US military preparedness. Russia’s leadership understands that, at least for the time being, it cannot fight Europe directly, so it pursues shadow war, which tests “the vulnerability of critical infrastructure, to destabilize societies and governments” and provokes reactions designed to undermine national, European, and transatlantic unity and institutions.4
Our research makes clear that Russia does not view conflict through a binary war–peace lens. Instead, Moscow operates in a constant state of confrontation, using shadow warfare to manipulate, coerce, and destabilize targeted states without triggering a conventional military response. Moscow’s covert, deniable, and often difficult to attribute operations are executed by Russian intelligence services, proxies, criminal networks, and state-controlled enterprises to shape strategic outcomes while obscuring direct state involvement.
Russia’s shadow warfare campaign in Europe has intensified in recent weeks. In November, Polish authorities described an explosion on the Warsaw–Lublin rail corridor—a vital artery for transporting military aid to Ukraine—as a deliberate act of suspected Russian sabotage.5 Days later, a Russian drone penetrated Romanian airspace during a large-scale Russian strike on western Ukraine, triggering a scramble of German and Romanian fighter jets.6 Belgium has also faced a surge of drone incursions in recent weeks, including three UAVs detected over a nuclear power plant near the Port of Antwerp7 and separate sightings that forced the temporary closure of Brussels and Liège airports.8 Just days after the railway explosion in Poland, a Russian intelligence vessel reappeared off the UK coast for the second time this year, directing lasers at RAF pilots monitoring its movement.9 And earlier this month, a group of military-style drones breached Ireland’s no-fly zone, flying toward the flight path of President Zelenskyy’s aircraft as it approached Dublin International Airport.10
Russia uses its toolkit to achieve four core objectives, which have the effect of undermining US interests.
First, Undermining NATO Cohesion Through Covert and Deniable Operations. CEPA’s assessments show that Russia employs shadow tactics specifically to target cohesion—the essential ingredient of NATO deterrence. These tactics include:
These activities weaken public trust, sow doubt about NATO’s ability to defend frontline states, and create the perception that escalation risks are too high for allies to maintain unity. It is worth noting that despite these persistent efforts to undermine NATO, 68% of Americans hold a favorable view of NATO, according to recent surveys.11
For the United States, erosion of allied confidence represents a dangerous threat. NATO’s effectiveness—and US credibility—rests on the belief that the alliance can act collectively. Shadow warfare is designed to corrode that belief from within. On this count, the 2025 US National Security Strategy rightly observes that the US “will need a strong Europe to help [the US] successfully compete, and to work in concert with [the US] to prevent any adversary from dominating Europe.
Second, Targeting Critical Infrastructure Vital to US Force Projection. CEPA’s work highlights how Russia increasingly uses shadow tactics to probe, target, and degrade European infrastructure essential to US military operations, including:
These activities are conducted covertly—often via Russian intelligence cutouts or actors operating from third countries. The strategic effect is clear: make Europe brittle enough that US reinforcements cannot move quickly or reliably in a crisis. This is one of the most direct ways Russian shadow warfare undermines US national security.
Third, Weakening Democratic Governance Through Influence Networks. Russia’s sub-threshold campaigns target democratic institutions openly, but its shadow networks aim at deeper, longer-term penetration. Our research describes a multilayered ecosystem that includes:
These networks distort policy debates and make democratic systems more vulnerable to both Russian and Chinese influence. The US relies on a Europe made up of capable, trustworthy democracies. Russian shadow operations—especially those involving covert finance and influence—erode that reliability.
Fourth, Creating Sustained Instability in Europe. CEPA has warned that Russia’s objective is to create a perpetual low-grade crisis environment that forces the United States to devote disproportionate time, resources, and political energy to Europe. Every cyber intrusion, sabotage incident, or disinformation surge forces the US into reactive posture. At the same time, “Europe still faces significant material, logistical, and readiness challenges that could impede its ability to independently deter or defend against a fully mobilized Russian threat without substantial and sustained US support”.12
This is not coincidence. It is a strategy. And this is where China’s role becomes especially important.
At a global level, China is using a web of relationships with other autocratic regimes in order to achieve multiplier effects and more fundamentally to shift the political center of gravity globally in a direction that is more friendly to CCP interests. China functions as a crucial strategic enabler of Russia and Moscow’s shadow warfare. CEPA’S analysis emphasizes that China and Russia increasingly operate in a form of authoritarian alignment.13
They do not necessarily share identical worldviews, although their top leadership appears to have shrunk much daylight between them. But they share a common interest: weakening US leadership, fracturing Western unity, and creating strategic paralysis across the democratic world.
On these counts, China strengthens Russia’s shadow warfare in several critical ways.
First, through amplifying Russian narratives through a global authoritarian information ecosystem. China frequently mirrors, amplifies, and normalizes Russian propaganda and strategic narratives.
It is worth noting that this engagement in the informational domain plays out in different ways in different settings. In Latin America, for example, collaboration between the Russian and Chinese governments and their regional authoritarian counterparts, such as those in Venezuela and Cuba, enables a multiplier effect on narratives that, among other things, systematically assail the US, while asserting the ostensible benefits of one-party rule and focusing on the US as being decadent and unreliable.15
Russian and Chinese channels cross-promote disinformation about sanctions, NATO, and Western support for Ukraine. This alignment strengthens Russia’s capacity to manipulate public opinion and exploit democratic vulnerabilities.
China has invested tens of billions of dollars to influence global public opinion, using tools such as large-scale people-to-people exchanges, extensive cultural programs, and worldwide media operations. Some estimates place its international media spending alone at about $10 billion. Chinese companies are also working with state institutions on new technologies like generative AI and virtual reality, which could make these influence efforts even more powerful both by bringing them to scale and enabling more targeted and convincing ways to shape how people understand events.16 Russia is estimated to spend more than $300 million each year on RT alone, with its total international information efforts reaching about $1.5 billion.17
The cooperation in the information sphere is illustrative of a larger point. As with Russia, China functions as a “keystone” for a grouping of repressive powers that makes the authoritarian whole stronger than any one of its parts. This development represents a top-order threat to the United States and other free systems. As Beijing strengthens “its strategic cooperation with countries such as Russia, Iran, and North Korea across the military, technological, and political spheres, the global operating environment is bound to become even less hospitable to US interests”.18
Beijing also provides technology and components used in Russian shadow operations. Russia’s sabotage, cyber activity, and intelligence operations rely heavily on electronics and dual-use tools – many of which now come from China. These include:
China’s technological support increases Russia’s capacity to operate in the shadows—and reduces the effectiveness of Western export controls.
These various forms of support for Russia’s operations makes it harder for the US and its allies to impose meaningful costs. Beijing also affords diplomatic cover that shields Russian activity. Among other efforts, Beijing uses its political and diplomatic leverage to blunt Western efforts to expose or punish Russian shadow operations. This includes:
The result is that Russia gains political space to conduct its activities with fewer risks and fewer consequences.
Russian shadow warfare operations are not isolated incidents. They represent a persistent ecosystem of covert coercion—now strengthened by China’s dedicated and diverse forms of support. Russia and China are reinforcing each other’s efforts. The combined effect of now more mature cooperation between Beijing and Moscow presents daunting challenges for an ever more vulnerable Free World, including weakened Allied cohesion; compromised European stability; an environment in which US force projection becomes harder and riskier, and democratic partners grow more vulnerable to manipulation. This is the strategic environment Russia and China seek to shape. It is one where American options are narrower, and the cost of leadership is higher. Given the stakes, the growing authoritarian coordination requires unity among the democracies.
In line with CEPA’s focus on resilience, allied unity, and confronting authoritarian coercion, I offer the following recommendations.
Strengthen Transatlantic Resilience Against Shadow Warfare
Impose Costs on Chinese Entities Supporting Russia’s Hybrid and Covert Capabilities
Counter Covert Influence and Malign Finance in Democratic Systems
Reduce Economic Vulnerabilities Exploited by Russia and China
Reinforce NATO Cohesion and Deterrence
Russia and China are revisionist powers that are working hard to reshape the international landscape in ways that suit their values and interests. When Xi Jinping became China’s top leader in 2012 many observers viewed China mainly as an opportunity rather than a threat. Since then, much more has been revealed and is now understood about the regime’s predatory character. For more than a dozen years, the personal relationship forged by Xi Jinping and Vladimir Putin has led to a shared consciousness between them that has set their respective systems on a course with more purpose.19
A year after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, in March 2023, Xi told Putin that “right now there are changes—the likes of which we haven’t seen for 100 years—and we are the ones driving these changes together”. Putin agreed. The leaders of these two authoritarian behemoths did not make clear the exact meaning of this ominous prediction. It means no doubt that the United States and other free societies have far less margin for error in the fiercer global competition that has emerged.
Russia’s shadow warfare, which is bolstered and amplified by China, constitutes a long-term challenge to American power. It weakens US alliances, disrupts democratic institutions, and degrades the infrastructure and political cohesion on which US strategy depends. Moscow and Beijing, for their part, offer no constructive vision for the future. Instead, they use a variety of aggressive tactics to discredit the values and political systems of the United States and its allies. Their goal is to weaken global confidence in democracy, while growing the ranks of unfree countries. In the end, they aim to fracture and isolate democratic societies so thoroughly that an authoritarian model encounters no unified opposition.
Thank you for your attention.
CEPA is a nonpartisan, nonprofit, public policy institution. All opinions expressed are those of the author(s) alone and may not represent those of the institutions they represent or the Center for European Policy Analysis. CEPA maintains a strict intellectual independence policy across all its projects and publications.
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2025-12-16 21:59:33
In an astonishing era, it would be easy to miss something that historians may one day see as very significant. Germany is quietly becoming the leader of European security.
It’s true that this is not the result of traditional European shoulder barging or raised voices. It has happened very quietly, and there have been few ripples, but it’s unmistakable.
The most obvious signal has been the growing involvement of Chancellor Friedrich Merz in the Ukraine peace talks. The latest discussions took place in Berlin on December 14-15 at Merz’s request. His aim? To ensure that Ukraine was protected from US-Russian pressure and that the negotiations did not take place “above Europe’s head.”
Merz not only appeared at the opening of the talks but also ensured his diplomatic advisor, Guenter Sautter, was present throughout. No other European leader was there, although Emmanuel Macron, Keir Starmer, and others attended a post-talks dinner.
This isn’t the only example of a more activist Germany. On December 5, Merz flew at short notice to Brussels to discuss the Belgian premier’s objections about plans to pass frozen Russian assets to Ukraine. Also, there was the German President of the European Commission, Ursula von der Leyen.
A more energetic German foreign policy does not necessarily lead to success. German plans to send as much as $200bn in Russian assets to Kyiv have not been agreed, and Belgium, now joined by a few other EU countries, continues to oppose them. A crunch EU meeting on the issue is scheduled for December 18-19. And the US, with Russia, is continuing to push for the Ukrainian evacuation of the Donbas in the east of the country and its key belt of fortified cities.
Germany is also in the EU’s driver’s seat, mobilizing to meet the danger from Russia. Under Merz’s leadership, my long-frugal country has abandoned its debt restrictions and unleashed a dramatic increase of up to €378bn ($444bn) in defense spending by 2029. Merz is also moving forward with military conscription — and, as his Belgian jawboning illustrates, is willing to use Germany’s diplomatic clout.
The spark motivating this German resurgence is not only danger from Moscow, but also hostility from Washington. A center-right stalwart, Merz is the most pro-American chancellor Germany has had in years. Yet the American pullback from Europe has forced him into declaring German “independence from the USA”.
As strong as Merz appears in foreign policy, he struggles domestically. His Christian Democrat Union is neck and neck with the far-right, anti-immigrant AfD in the polls. A strong foreign policy has only limited domestic cut-through when issues like the rising cost of living, immigration, and a crippling deadlock on efforts to reform the country are fueling discontent. Proposed reforms to pensions and other welfare programs divide his party. His personal rating remains low.
But the German chancellor looks far stronger than his European counterparts. Britain and France have traditionally been Europe’s defense heavyweights, but both are plagued by financial and political difficulties. A paralyzed parliament and rising debt have hamstrung France’s Emmanuel Macron. A lack of charisma, difficulty tackling key issues like migrant crossings, and tight budgets weaken the UK’s Keir Starmer. Both countries are making slow and murky promises on defense spending. Their debt-to-GDP ratios are 100% or more. Germany’s is just 63%.
So, Germany has money to spend, and Merz has opened the spigot. Just before taking office, he won bipartisan support to overcome Germany’s debt-averse culture and loosen the country’s constitutional restrictions on borrowing, enabling €1 trillion or more in spending on defense and infrastructure.
Upon taking office, the new Chancellor announced plans to more than double the current military spending to hit NATO’s spending target of 3.5 % of GDP on core defense and transform the Bundeswehr into Europe’s strongest military.
The extra money now is being bolstered with additional manpower. In December, Germany passed legislation to increase its forces by nearly 50%, approving a new system starting in 2026 that requires all 18-year-old men to register and undergo medical checks for potential service, alongside increased incentives for voluntary enlistment. The new law also left the door open for parliament to reintroduce compulsory service if needed to build up its armed forces, aiming for a stronger, “war-ready” military by 2035.
Merz understands that Germany faces an existential threat: it must confront both a revisionist and imperial Russia waging war against its neighbor — and against Europe’s security order — and an increasingly disinterested United States, on which Germany has based its security for the past seven decades.
This means bolstering Ukraine at all costs — the country announced another €11bn in aid for Ukraine on December 15 for a total of €86bn since 2022 — and by using the €210bn in frozen Russian assets in Europe. Most are held in a Belgian company, and American officials have encouraged Belgium to resist because Washington sees the return of Russia’s assets as part of its proposed Ukrainian settlement. Right-wing leaders in Hungary and Italy are also showing doubts.
The test of newfound German resolve looms. When Europe’s leaders meet this week, will Chancellor Merz be able to convince them?
Arndt Freytag von Loringhoven is a German diplomat. He was deputy director of Germany’s Federal Intelligence Service between 2007 and 2010. He served as NATO’s first Assistant Secretary-General for Intelligence and Security and Germany’s ambassador to Poland. He is the author of ‘Putins Angriff auf Deutschland: Disinformation, Propaganda, Cyberattacken [Putin’s attack on Germany: disinformation, propaganda, cyberattacks’], published September 2024.
CEPA Editor Bill Echikson also contributed to this article.
Europe’s Edge is CEPA’s online journal covering critical topics on the foreign policy docket across Europe and North America. All opinions expressed on Europe’s Edge are those of the author alone and may not represent those of the institutions they represent or the Center for European Policy Analysis. CEPA maintains a strict intellectual independence policy across all its projects and publications.
Russia’s Shadow Warfare
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2025-12-16 21:46:52
As climate change, militarization, and new technologies reshape the Arctic, the region is becoming a central arena of great power competition. Russia’s expanding military presence and China’s dual-use investments heighten strategic pressure on NATO’s northern flank. Uncrewed and autonomous vehicles (UxVs or UxS; referred to throughout this paper as “drones”) offer cost-effective ways to enhance domain awareness, deterrence, and resilience across intelligence, targeting, logistics, and crisis-response missions. Yet, harsh operational conditions, infrastructure gaps, inadequate investment, and procurement obstacles hinder their integration and exploitation. Procurement of Arctic-capable drones across NATO remains fragmented, slow, and risk-averse, as most allies prioritize systems designed for temperate climates and only later adapt them for Arctic use, thus resulting in few NATO-certified Arctic-ready platforms.
To preserve a competitive edge and reinforce deterrence, NATO and its Arctic allies must integrate winterized uncrewed capabilities across the three physical domains. For such an effort to succeed, however, they must also reform procurement processes, accelerate joint acquisition, update doctrine and training models, improve intelligence and information sharing, expand support infrastructure, and ensure interoperability, among other priorities. Overall, uncrewed vehicles should complement rather than replace traditional assets, expanding situational awareness, enabling “deterrence by detection,” and providing more targeting options across the High North. Ultimately, NATO’s ability to embed these systems into planning, training, and innovation frameworks will determine whether the alliance can turn technological potential into credible deterrence and defense in one of the world’s most demanding environments.
“A secure Europe, a secure Atlantic, and a secure Arctic are priorities for NATO and essential for America’s long-term security.” 1
Mark Rutte, NATO Secretary General
The Arctic is emerging as a decisive arena in the evolving global security landscape. Long perceived as a remote and stable region, this vast territory is now marked by accelerating geopolitical competition, climate-driven transformations, and technological disruption.2 Melting ice and shifting sea routes are opening new corridors for trade, energy exploration, and military access. For NATO and its allies, this transformation raises pressing strategic and operational questions: How can the alliance secure its northern flank, protect critical infrastructure, and ensure freedom of navigation in an environment where adversaries are increasingly active, and the climate imposes unique constraints?
Against this backdrop, uncrewed systems or drones stand out as both a challenge and an opportunity. They have proven their value in recent conflicts, offering cost-effective ways to extend reach, enhance situational awareness, and conduct multiple mission sets. Yet their deployment in the Arctic and High North raises unique challenges: extreme cold temperatures and weather conditions that test endurance and maneuverability, vast distances that strain communications and sustainment, and growing geopolitical competition that complicates deployment.
Both Russia and China are investing in their own uncrewed capabilities and defensive countermeasures and are strengthening and expanding their presence in the Arctic, exploiting surveillance and security gaps. As such, those allies face mounting pressure to adapt — making it urgent to translate the rapidly advancing integration of uncrewed systems from experimentation into operational practice. Drones offer both a vital tool for deterrence and defense, and a test case for how innovation can be translated into practical capability at scale.
This report seeks to contribute to the policy and expert debate on Arctic security and operations by analyzing the role that uncrewed systems can play in enhancing allied defense and deterrence in the region. Its purpose is threefold:
By combining strategic assessment with operational analysis and concrete recommendations, the report aims to bridge the literature gap on the future of military operations in the High North and provide actionable insights for allied planners and policymakers tasked with shaping defense and deterrence posture in the region. For the purposes of this analysis, the terms “High North” and “Northern Flank” are used interchangeably to denote the portion of the strategic Arctic area encompassing the North Atlantic and regions within and close to but south of the Arctic Circle, including the territories of Canada, the United States, Iceland, Denmark (via Greenland), Norway, Sweden, and Finland, consistent with NATO’s use of the term High North. The “Arctic” and “Arctic region” are used to reflect all land and ocean in the polar region, including territories of Russia.
The central research question guiding this report is: How can NATO and its Arctic allies leverage uncrewed systems to strengthen deterrence and defense in the High North, while addressing the region’s unique environmental, operational, and strategic challenges? The report’s hypothesis is that while drones are neither a panacea nor a full-fledged replacement for traditional capabilities, they represent indispensable assets and force multipliers for both NATO collectively and allies individually in the High North, provided that integration and sustainment challenges, capability gaps, and innovation bottlenecks are addressed with urgency.
The report draws on a qualitative methodological approach combining open-source research, open-source satellite imagery, expert and practitioner consultations, applied exercises, and data analysis. Sources include academic literature, policy papers, military doctrine, and defense industry insights. Crucially, the analysis also benefits from three complementary streams of fieldwork and stakeholder engagements:
Finally, by applying Braun and Clarke’s six-phase analytical framework, we conducted thematic analysis to distill recurring patterns, overarching themes, and key insights from the survey dataset.3 This method included data screening, initial coding, pattern identification, theme review and refinement, and the final synthesis of the thematic findings.
The Arctic is undergoing a profound transformation. Regarded as a remote but stable frontier governed by respected international agreements after the Cold War, the region risks transforming into a central arena of global strategic competition driven by three major converging trends: climate change, the return of great-power rivalry, and rapid technological innovation. As a result, the Arctic is no longer an area of “low tension,” or a region “somewhat removed from international affairs.”5 On the contrary, it is increasingly characterized by militarization, contested governance, and delicate security dynamics.
The second Russian invasion of Ukraine has accelerated this trend, deepening the confrontation between Russia and NATO to Cold War levels, as well as adding tensions between NATO and China. Beijing has expanded its presence under the banner of “near-Arctic” status, tying the region to its broader global ambitions. Russia’s full-scale assault has also demonstrated the importance of technological innovation and rapid adaptation, along with the need to leverage them effectively while avoiding duplication and barriers to mass production. Together, these shifts underscore the Arctic’s emergence as a strategic arena, where NATO’s ability to deter adversaries, safeguard infrastructure, project power, and adapt technologically is increasingly tested.
At the same time, harsh environmental and logistical realities continue to test allied forces and capabilities. Extreme cold, remoteness, and minimal infrastructure hinder readiness and power projection. While technology can offset some challenges, effective adaptation requires faster procurement, tailored infrastructure, doctrinal reform, and specialized training and personnel. Arctic troops can burn up to 3,000 calories daily and suffer cold injuries despite advanced gear — underscoring how the High North remains a test of human endurance as much as one of strategy and innovation.6
This section examines the new Arctic security reality through four dimensions: (1) the region’s strategic value and environmental transformations; (2) Russia’s expanding militarization; (3) China’s growing ambitions; and (4) NATO’s evolving defense posture and challenges.
The Arctic’s geography carries enduring strategic weight, offering the shortest air and maritime corridors between North America, Europe, and Asia. Melting ice is rapidly altering Arctic geography: The region is warming nearly four times faster than the global average, and summer sea ice has declined by about 40% since 1980, with ice-free summers possible within decades.7 Thawing permafrost destabilizes runways and infrastructure, while erratic freeze-thaw cycles disrupt logistics, making the region simultaneously more accessible and less safe for sustained operations. Thinning ice opens areas previously inaccessible to uncrewed underwater vehicles (UUVs) and submarines, while melt-driven shifts in salinity and temperature alter sound propagation, increasing acoustic clutter and complicating passive sonar, requiring updated sonar modeling and tailored anti-submarine warfare approaches.8 These challenges are compounded by the effects of the Arctic environment, including higher risks of equipment failure and degraded communications, among others.
Overall, while year-round viability through the Northern Sea Route (NSR) may not emerge until late in the century, Russia and China are already positioning themselves for long-term access and control.9 For NATO and Arctic allies, this increases exposure of Arctic Ocean sea lanes, critical underwater infrastructure (CUI), and strategic chokepoints to surveillance, interference, and hybrid threats, thus giving Moscow and Beijing new threat vectors vis-à-vis the alliance.
Russia, which holds more than 50% of the Arctic coastline, is the only Arctic Council country with nuclear weapons regularly operating in the polar region. The Northern Fleet stationed on the Kola Peninsula hosts much of Russia’s nuclear second-strike capability.
Russia is fielding advanced long-range surface-to-surface and air-to-surface missiles (e.g., Kh-101, 3M-14 Kalibr, Kh-47M2 Kinzhal) capable of striking European and Arctic targets from its own territory, airspace, and territorial waters. These capabilities are meant to complement the Bastion Defense concept by increasing deep strike options and introducing more threat vectors against NATO.10 As a result, it is time for Western analysts and planners to reassess the geographic and operational functions of the Bastion concept.11
Since its full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Russia has intensified modernization of the Northern Fleet — the cornerstone of its Arctic defense and strategic deterrent — by adding assets such as the Borei-A K-555 Knyaz Pozharsky submarine, reactivating Soviet-era bases, expanding radar and air defense sites along the NSR, and conducting large-scale exercises, including under-ice operations.12 Melting ice could strengthen Russia’s maritime dominance and nuclear second-strike survivability by providing Russian SSBNs (e.g., Borei-class) more maneuver space and concealment options in the Barents and Kara Sea bastions.13 Increasing under-ice operations will be supported by intensified anti-submarine warfare investment in submarine and surface vessels (frigates, corvettes) and the large-scale deployment of uncrewed systems, including various uncrewed underwater vehicles (UUVs).14 Indeed, Moscow is heavily investing in uncrewed and robotic systems across all domains to offset capability gaps and reinforce conventional forces. Annual drone production now exceeds 1.5 million units, supported by China, Iran, and others, and Norwegian intelligence sources expect the number of Russian uncrewed systems to grow by an order of magnitude in the coming years.15
Drawing on extensive combat experience from Ukraine, Russia is now institutionalizing these technologies — allocating significant resources for drone technology and research and development (R&D), training thousands of drone operators for both near-term and future mobilization, and creating a dedicated branch for uncrewed systems and specialized units across its services, including new UAV naval regiments.16 To this effect, the Russian Navy recently established a new drone control center in Kamchatka to oversee the deployment of Forpost and Orion UAVs, which will also conduct anti-submarine and maritime patrols along the NSR.17
Collectively, these trends suggest that Russia will likely possess more expertise, skilled personnel, and mature doctrine in robotic warfare than most NATO forces in a future confrontation. Moscow is also refining electronic warfare (EW) techniques, including wide-band GNSS disruption in the Baltic and Nordic regions as part of its hybrid strategy.18 As a result, Russia’s Arctic territory will remain both a strategic deterrence stronghold and a launchpad for asymmetric competition even as Moscow seeks to close its conventional gap with NATO.
China is slowly but steadily increasing its presence in the Arctic region, guided by a multifaceted Arctic strategy that combines scientific investment, infrastructural reach, and strategic diplomacy. Beijing has established research stations in the Svalbard archipelago and satellite ground stations in Sweden and Iceland, and it operates the Xuelong “scientific research” icebreaker and its successor.19 These civilian assets carry significant dual-use potential and add operational redundancy as well as a deniable, hybrid option to the country’s agenda in the region.
Under the 14th Five-Year Plan, China has prioritized remote sensing, polar shipping technology, uncrewed systems, and communication networks to strengthen its situational awareness and support its penetration in the Arctic.20 Economic ties further link Beijing to Arctic infrastructure. For example, Chinese state firms hold major stakes in Yamal LNG and Arctic LNG-2 projects in Russia and provide significant financing through Silk Road and energy funds, while Polar Silk Road initiatives link Chinese ports to Saint Petersburg via ice-capable vessels, combining commercial access with strategic presence.21
This dual-use footprint has established China as a self-styled “near-Arctic state,” leveraging investment and scientific cooperation to legitimize its role.22 Growing military cooperation with Russia, including joint bomber patrols, air defense drills, and anti-submarine warfare (ASW) exercises, extends this influence. Nonetheless, tensions persist over resource access and military supremacy in the Western Arctic — areas that Moscow very jealously safeguards.23
The accession of Finland and Sweden into NATO has dramatically reshaped the Arctic security landscape. Their inclusion integrates the region fully into NATO’s defense architecture, broadening the alliance’s northern frontier. While these Nordic states bring unique operational knowledge, capabilities, and infrastructure for cold-weather operations, they also increase NATO’s proximity to Russian territory and introduce new vectors of exposure. This has inevitable implications for alliance defense planning and posture in the wider High North, especially as regional defense plans, new command and force structure, and new capability targets move toward implementation.
NATO has responded by scaling Arctic-focused exercises such as Cold Response and Steadfast Defender 2024, establishing a new Multi-Corps Land Component Command and a Forward Land Force contingent in Finland; a Nordic Air Force Division and a NATO Combined Air Operations Center in Bodø, Norway; and a Joint Logistics Support Group HQ in Enköping, Sweden.24 All of these add to pre-existent multinational defense cooperation initiatives such as the UK-led Joint Expeditionary Force and Nordic Defence Cooperation (NORDEFCO).25 The deployment of an RQ-4D Phoenix high altitude long endurance (HALE) UAV to Finland’s Pirkkala airbase for the first time in June 2025 underscores NATO’s ability to project strategic ISR capability flexibly across alliance territory.26
But structural and conceptual gaps remain. To begin with, NATO doesn’t have a formal Arctic strategy. While this is a sensitive policy matter, the lack of a dedicated strategic framework for the region risks diluting resourcing and cooperation between regional allies on various levels (doctrine, capabilities, training, etc.), leaving it to national or “minilateral” initiatives to compensate.27 Second, despite the recent upgrades and expansion of Allied Command, Control, Communications, Computers, Intelligence, Surveillance, and Reconnaissance (C4ISR) systems in the region, overall infrastructure across the High North remains thin. Likewise, North American Aerospace Defense Command’s (NORAD) radar networks are aging, and their modernization program will take two decades to complete, leaving the Arctic approach to North America vulnerable to new threats at a time of unprecedented competition.28
Third, these shortfalls occur amid natural differences in threat perception, especially between North American and Nordic allies. Nordic officials often view China’s Arctic role with less concern than Washington or Ottawa. For example, while Danish and Norwegian government officials did not categorize China’s growing Arctic presence as a concerning threat in discussions with these authors, observers in Washington and Ottawa remain suspicious of Beijing, even amidst the recent diplomatic engagements.29 At the same time, Nordic allies’ approaches vis-à-vis Russia vary between Norway’s cautious pragmatism that acknowledges the historical people-to-people connections across the border and Finland and Denmark’s harder stance.30 These divergences reflect NATO’s broader struggle to harmonize national policies into an integrated Arctic policy.
Against this backdrop, hybrid threats in the Arctic are poised to increase. Undersea cables, energy pipelines, and satellite infrastructure are vulnerable to sabotage, cyber intrusion, and electronic warfare, as shown by recent cable damage in the Baltic Sea and GPS jamming across Scandinavia. Another vulnerability comes from the bilateral agreement between the Faroe Islands and Russia, which allows Russian fishing boats, with an obvious dual-use nature, access to the Islands’ territorial waters and the ability to conduct discreet intelligence collection or even sabotage.31 False flag operations used as a prelude to quick land grabs are another possibility NATO Arctic allies are preparing for.
This grey-zone contingency, which is widely perceived as one of the likeliest and most complex for the alliance to cope with, was tested during this project’s scenario exercise and revealed that NATO’s primary vulnerabilities lie in information fusion, decision speed, and alliance cohesion. In the expert survey, respondents stressed that Russia can exploit legal ambiguity and slow consensus-building to gain temporal and narrative advantage to produce a fait accompli. Persistent ISR and uncrewed systems were seen as essential for domain awareness, signaling, and transparency, yet they are insufficient without rapid intelligence sharing, unified political playbooks, and resilient Arctic logistics to uphold deterrence and allied sovereignty while avoiding escalation.
At the same time, climate-driven and other human security hazards call for a crisis-response role among Arctic allies, which also requires NATO’s civil–military coordination and resources.
From a traditional defense and deterrence perspective, a more capable military footprint enables NATO to improve cross-domain situational awareness and strengthen allied deterrence in the High North. Nevertheless, any expansion in deployed capabilities and infrastructure in the region must be carefully weighed against the backdrop of mutual deterrence and escalation management mechanisms with Russia. Uncrewed and autonomous systems are no exception and exemplify this duality.
They enhance surveillance and targeting but — according to some scholars — may also lower the threshold for force use by reducing risks to friendly personnel, creating information overload, introducing autonomous unpredictability, or generating “use-them-or-lose-them” pressures on decision makers.32 This has led analysts to warn of an emerging “Arctic drone race,” echoing trends from Ukraine and raising concerns about a new security dilemma.33 A contrasting view suggests uncrewed systems may reduce escalation by easing political pressure to retaliate after platform losses and by strengthening deterrence through improved visibility of adversarial activities.34 While this study offers insights relevant to this debate, a deeper examination falls outside its current scope.
In the High North’s extreme environment, uncrewed systems allow NATO and Arctic allies to enhance domain awareness at lower operational costs, reduce risks to personnel, expand their operational reach, and free manpower and crewed platforms for other tasks. Drones’ affordability and scalability compared with crewed systems make them particularly attractive to smaller allies who cannot afford fleets of patrol aircraft or major capital ships. Yet drones are not without challenges. Reliability in extreme cold and weather conditions diminishes, communications are constrained, and logistics and sustainment entail unique vulnerabilities and needs.
Deterrence in the Arctic greatly depends on situational awareness and signaling. Drones can contribute to this key objective through what scholars have defined as “deterrence by detection,” the notion that persistent monitoring of adversary activity complicates their freedom of maneuver and raises the costs of covert or coercive actions. In practice, for NATO and allies, this means being able to track Russian submarine patrols leaving the Kola Peninsula, monitor aircraft flights across the Barents and Bering Seas, identify changes in Russia’s Arctic force posture and infrastructure, and detect potential surface and subsurface threats to critical infrastructure. Overall, multi-domain situational awareness is by far the top priority for Arctic allies given the ISR gap and increased Russian and Chinese activity in the region.35
Uncrewed vehicles are uniquely suited for this as well as other missions. They can maintain a near-persistent presence at lower cost and higher risk tolerance than crewed patrol aircraft or surface ships, complementing existing ISR assets. Furthermore, their cost-effective long-endurance ISR capabilities expose concealment and deception, supporting deterrence-by-denial while opening more avenues for burden-sharing: smaller NATO allies can contribute affordable capabilities — including through multinational acquisition schemes — that feed into the alliance’s joint ISR architecture.
For this mission, aerial and maritime drones are the most mature categories of uncrewed systems. However, as we illustrate in this chapter, Arctic allies should leverage a broad array of drones, including uncrewed ground vehicles (UGVs).
High- and medium-altitude long-endurance (HALE/MALE) uncrewed aerial vehicles (UAVs) such as the MQ-4C Triton, and MQ-9B Sky/Sea Guardian can deliver near-persistent ISR over the Arctic, covering vast areas in a single sortie. Non-US systems like the Akinci, Aarok, and forthcoming Euromale offer similar roles, though with less operational maturity. The MQ-4C and MQ-9B are cold-weather capable, and exceed 24 hours of endurance, making them well-suited for monitoring choke points and sea lanes and for conducting deep-look intelligence. Their modular payloads, including maritime patrol radars, electro-optical/infrared (EO/IR), and signal intelligence (SIGINT), enable all-weather, day-night, multi-sensor operations.
These systems deliver higher cost-effectiveness compared with crewed aircraft for long-dwell ISR-targeting (ISR-T), airborne early warning (AEW), and communication relay missions. For instance, the MQ-9B SeaGuardian delivers roughly 80% of a crewed maritime patrol aircraft’s (MPA) capability at only ~14% of the hourly cost ($5,000/hour versus ~$35,000/hour) while offering longer endurance (25 vs. 10 hours), 90% less fuel consumption, and reduced crew demands.36 As a result, they also reduce the burden of crewed platforms for long-dwell ISR missions, helping preserve the latter’s operational readiness and service life.
According to a 2020 study from the Center for Strategic and Budgetary Assessment, a mixed fleet of HALE and MALE UAVs could provide an extensive, nearly persistent ISR coverage and implement deterrence by detection in Europe at much lower financial and operational costs compared with traditional crewed aircraft for the same mission.37
Table 1 – Comparison between the P-8A, MQ-9B, and MQ-4C platforms38
Arctic allies such as Norway, Sweden, and Finland may be considering the adoption of HALE or MALE-class UAVs, which could significantly augment available standoff sensing capabilities and bridge major domain awareness gaps. Given the growing customer base across Europe, with Denmark being the latest purchaser, the MQ-9B stands out as one of the most palatable solutions, providing significant mission flexibility at more affordable acquisition and sustainment costs. The latter will partially be amortized by the contractual framework recently launched by the NATO Support and Procurement Agency (NSPA), which aims to enhance interoperability, joint training, and economies of scale among MQ-9B users.39
However, the delivery of MQ-9B aircraft ordered by European countries is expected only in 2028, highlighting the timeline challenges associated with the procurement of this UAV class. Similar long delivery schedule issues affect other options like the MQ-4CTriton and the forthcoming Euromale. The latter will be certified for Arctic operations but will not be operational until 2030.40 Importantly, both the MQ-9B and MQ-4C seamlessly integrate with NATO’s fleet of five RQ-4Ds and could unlock national contributions in support of the NATO ISR Force (NISRF). The Triton is also being considered as a potential option to expand NISRF-owned assets in the future.41
Nevertheless, it is worth noting that all medium and large, non-stealth UAVs come with downsides. First, they have near-zero survivability in contested airspace, which is compounded by their low expendability due to a high unit cost.42 This means that concepts of operation need to include risk mitigation tactics, techniques, and procedures (TTPs) to increase platform survivability, though any loss would obviously be more acceptable than that of a traditional aircraft and its crew. Second, HALE and MALE UAVs would still require a robust ground infrastructure and support element (paved runways, de-icing and snow clearing operations, etc.), which limits their basing options and increases their exposure to threats.43 This constraint is less acute for the MQ-9B thanks to the short takeoff and landing version currently under development, which will pave the way for both dispersed and carrier-based deployment in the near future.44
Small and medium-sized (NATO Class I) UAVs are paramount contributors to domain awareness at tactical and operational levels. In the land domain, these systems need to be deployed in large numbers and organically available across combat forces, providing constant ISR-T (and other support) to enable rapid targeting cycles via indirect fire assets.
Specifically, Class I UAVs in the “Mini” subgroup (<15kg) are responsible for supporting units in the close fight. They should be treated as expendable assets and have the following characteristics to effectively operate in the Arctic:45
Norway recently inked a $9 million deal for Skydio X10D quadcopters to equip its small infantry units with tactical ISR drones.47 This system is cold-weather certified and carries a powerful sensor package, meeting most of the above-mentioned requirements. However, at ~$28k per unit (likely lower if mass-procured), it remains too expensive for a class of UAVs expected to suffer high attrition in conflicts against peer adversaries.48 That said, a higher cost per unit is not necessarily a disadvantage if it means greater reliability and effectiveness, thus resulting in more sorties/missions completed per dollar. It follows that the cost per mission, rather than the cost per drone, provides a more accurate metric to assess the operational value of UAS. Currently, Western manufacturers struggle to lower small drone prices due to a combination of factors, including patchy and insufficient demand signals from governments, limited economies of scale, labor costs, supply chain bottlenecks, and low competitiveness vis-à-vis Chinese producers, particularly DJI.
Class I UAVs in the “Small” subcategory (>15 kg and <150 kg) have become major ISR providers for battalion/brigade-level formations thanks to their growing range, endurance, and cost-effectiveness, partially replacing larger Class II UAVs (>150 kg).49 Given the growing dilatation of battlefield zones prompted by the proliferation of various precision weapons and the movement of key enablers (EW, self-propelled guns, etc.) farther from the contact line, these UAVs must be able to reconnoiter the enemy’s depth up to 100 km and identify high-priority targets for long-range fire support and should be operated by dedicated, self-sufficient UAV formations — preferably at battalion or company level to achieve higher effectiveness.50 In the High North, this requires a winterized, fixed-wing Class I UAV with a modular design and optional vertical take-off and landing (VTOL) capabilities that offers a balanced trade-off between cost, range, payload, speed, and endurance. Said system should cost in the range of $100k to $150k and be able to:
Nordic allies can also extend the range and coverage of small UAVs by leveraging a distributed mesh of remote charging stations where UAVs can automatically land, recharge, and wait for a follow-on mission.51
Uncrewed ground vehicles have received less attention but can also conduct tactical ISR using multispectral sensors on collapsible masts and off-road capabilities to overcome terrain obstacles. When networked into a battle management system (BMS), UGVs enhance situational awareness for the tactical commander and nearby units, cue UAVs and fire elements, and support coordinated targeting across the force.
For example, in static or defensive operations, UGVs can be tasked to form a land-based sensing array or patrol pre-plotted routes to scan terrain that UAVs struggle to observe due to trees, vegetation, or man-made cover. When combined with UAVs, a UGV–UAV network provides a resilient sensing layer across the air-ground littoral, strengthening detection, tracking, and early warning for ground formations. Nevertheless, sensor latency or failure and limited mobility (especially in tracked configurations) still constrain their use in high-tempo situations and across complex terrain, although faster wheeled UGVs offer interesting options for Nordic allies to reinforce reconnaissance units with extended range and sensing capacity.52
At the same time, as with all robotic platforms and complex technologies, effective UGV employment requires strong human-machine teaming (HMT), sustainment capacity, and tailored doctrine to avoid adding cognitive or logistical burdens.53
Uncrewed surface vehicles (USVs) and uncrewed underwater vehicles can create a resilient, scalable, and layered ISR posture uniquely suited to the Arctic. They can loiter for weeks or months as surface gateways for sensors (radars, EO/IR cameras, passive acoustic receivers, and sonobuoys), bathymetry, and communications relay.
Beneath the ice, different types of UUVs can map under-ice bathymetry, deploy towed and mounted passive and active sonar, and perform persistent acoustic classification at far lower costs than crewed ships. Fused with USV surface relays, UUV-collected contacts and sensing data can rapidly reach C4ISR nodes in near–real time, enabling cueing of aircraft, satellites, and surface assets.
Given the heavy-icebreaker capability gap across NATO, integrating drones aboard icebreaking or dual-use vessels is a cost-effective way to help mitigate this shortfall by turning a scarce surface asset into a force multiplier for sustained, contested operations across seasonally icebound sea lanes.54 USVs and UAVs can extend sensor reach beyond the ship’s horizon for persistent ISR, MCM, and Counter-UAV screening, while small UUVs can perform under-ice mapping and anti-submarine warfare tasks. This “mothership” approach also reduces risk to crewed assets, compresses logistic tails, and increases operational tempo in ice and marginal-ice zones.
A USV/UUV operational concept aligns with NATO’s distributed “digital ocean” architecture, whereby mixed maritime drone fleets act as sensor webs and forward motherships.55 Such a concept also mirrors the US 5th Fleet’s Task Force 59 operational experimentation in the Middle East and is similar to NATO’s Task Force X initiative in the Baltic Sea.56 Maritime designs, robust autonomous navigation capability, adaptive power management, and resilient SATCOM/relay chains are essential to mitigate line-of-sight limitations.57
A maritime sensing mesh would widen Arctic allies’ detection windows, shorten response times, and allow near-persistent monitoring of choke points, transit routes, and under-ice approaches — raising the cost and uncertainty of adversary operations in the High North.
As widely acknowledged, uncrewed systems have revolutionized how militaries locate, identify, and engage targets through unprecedented levels of speed and integration in the sensor-to-shooter loop, commonly referred to as the kill chain. In contested Arctic settings, drones can close critical targeting gaps by 1) increasing sensor density and reach, 2) enhancing target detection and acquisition, 3) rapidly cueing long-range fires, and 4) engaging targets when directed from command nodes ashore or afloat.
Operationalizing targeting effects with drones requires three linked conditions: first, the integration of drones into a broader set of capabilities (cyber, space, EMS management, C2, etc.) to achieve a multidomain impact; second, digitized, secure, high-bandwidth, and low-latency processing, exploitation, and dissemination (PED) pipelines for rapid data ingestion, sharing, and exploitation by maneuver and fires units; and third, smooth fire integration so that naval, air, and ground fires can accept and execute sensor cueing with minimal friction.58
However, the Arctic’s unique environmental challenges make local edge-processing and autonomous target classification essential to improving sensor-to-shooter networks. This is far from easy, as clouds, fog, and low visibility degrade the fidelity and performance of airborne sensors and cold-weather hardening imposes unique design tradeoffs, affecting endurance, range, and weapon options. Similarly, UUV and USV employment for undersea target acquisition and engagement demands under-ice navigation and secure communication — areas where mature solutions remain limited and constrained by low bandwidth, high latency, and range.59
MALE UAVs like the MQ-9B represent large drones’ evolution from ISR-only platforms into multi-mission assets that can shape the battlespace via airborne targeting and direct fire support. By leveraging long endurance, advanced sensors, and modular payloads, they act as persistent ISR-T nodes detecting, classifying, tracking, and quickly cueing strike elements across air, land, and maritime domains.
Recent MQ-9B developments emphasize AEW and integrated sensing, offering scalable, affordable, persistent 360° detection of aircraft, missiles, and surface contacts that can complement or substitute more expensive crewed AEW platforms.60 In the High North, this capability can fill airborne surveillance gaps over vast, sensor-poor approaches and remote littorals. MALEs can also support counter-air missions by 1) serving as long-dwell missile-warning nodes to cue fighters and surface-based air defense (SBAD) networks, and 2) carrying or guiding air-to-air effects for defensive counter-air tasks.61 The platform’s endurance makes these concepts scalable for improved regional integrated air and missile defense (IAMD).
Two decades of weapon integration have also expanded the MQ-9’s strike role. Hellfire missiles, guided bombs, loitering munitions, and potentially small cruise missiles enable standoff interdiction of a wide array of shore and maritime targets.62 This flexibility would allow Arctic states to pursue sea control and denial without relying solely on fleet-scale manned sorties.
However, implementing bespoke applications in the Arctic faces major hurdles, including extreme weather, contested communications, adversary EW and countermeasures, and basing/logistics constraints, all of which degrade sortie generation and platform survivability. As such, planners must adopt mitigation strategies centered on flexible ISR-T procedures, distributed sustainment, hardened datalinks and communications, and agile doctrinal adaptation leveraging standoff capabilities.
Similarly, integrating highly autonomous Collaborative Combat Aircraft (CCA) into Arctic operations presents even greater challenges than in other environments, despite their significant potential. Because CCA requires a dedicated and more detailed analysis, it falls outside the scope of this study and is not examined further here.
This section focuses on UAVs for close and deep strikes, with reference to UGVs as complementary enablers. Close combat and deep strike missions require distinct UAV requirements. The former necessitates portable, user-friendly, and modular solutions that can provide a scalable, cost-effective, and organic beyond line of sight (BLOS) precision strike capability to maneuver units down to the platoon level. The latter require larger, energy-efficient airframes for longer-range and heavier payloads with favorable costs compared to missiles.
At the tactical level, the purpose of small strike UAVs and loitering munitions is to slow, fix, and attrit hostile elements before they can engage friendly forces, inhibiting the adversary’s ability to concentrate, maneuver, and react, while supporting and facilitating maneuver for Allied formations in cooperation with other effects. Priority targets for these systems include high-value maneuver-enabling assets such as protected mobility, engineering capabilities, UAV teams, short-range air defense (SHORAD), EW, and indirect fire systems, among others. They can also be used to establish near-persistent fire control over areas of interest, conduct counter-battery fir,e and perform hunter-killer missions against hostile UAV teams and other high-value targets. As their employment in Ukraine and the current experimentation by European countries show, these systems should be available to specialized formations (platoons, companies) for maximum effectiveness and fly fast to quickly prosecute mobile targets.63 An often-underappreciated virtue lies in their suppressive role, which can open windows of opportunities for maneuver or increase the reaction time for friendly forces to organize adequate defense.
Cruciform wing (e.g., Russian Lancet-3, Auterion’s MLM-20, Ukrainian RAM 2X) and fixed or folded spring-loaded wing (e.g., Switchblade-600, Warmate, RAM-II) setups provide the best tradeoff between speed, maneuverability, endurance, payload, and range.64 Ideally, these should be fielded via vehicle-mounted (both wheeled and tracked) modular palletized canisters to ensure high mobility and flexibility in dispersed Arctic and sub-Arctic operations.
Based on the above discussion, we identify a set of key characteristics for tactical strike UAVs, as illustrated in the table below:65
Table 2 — Recommended Tactical Strike UAV design characteristics and roles ((Authors’ interview with AV representatives, May 2025, and authors’ elaboration based on operational considerations, lessons from Ukraine, exercise observations, and available technology and market solutions.))
Despite markedly lower price tags and extensive use in the war in Ukraine, small rotary-wing designs such as FPV systems currently offer shorter range and comparably smaller destructive power than fixed-wing one-way attack munitions. Given their limited warhead size (typically 1-3 kg), they often require multiple systems to ensure mission success against armored targets.66 Ukrainian estimates place FPV drones’ success rate (intended as the ability to reach, hit, and deliver effects on the target) at roughly 20–50% with significant variation between units.67 Commercially derived FPVs and rotary wing UAVs lack robust EW resilience, have limited battery capacity, and are susceptible to cold, moisture, and icing due to their exposed engines, propellers, and sensors.68 In a recent German winter exercise, for instance, the batteries of US military small quadcopters delivered only 25–50% of advertised flight time.69 Short battery life also affects drone operators’ controllers.70 The use of silicone-based sprays on the propellers partially mitigates ice buildup problems but is not a foolproof solution.71
In addition, most FPV drone operations in Ukraine remain personnel-intensive, requiring various crews of pilots and paired operators — in a one pilot–one-pilot-one-drone arrangement — to deploy multiple systems simultaneously, along with complex frequency allocation and deconfliction to avoid congestion.72 Such a model is hardly scalable for Nordic allies. AI-enabled swarming can reduce manpower but adds extra cost, forcing quantity-versus-quality tradeoffs or budget adjustments.73
Therefore, rotary-wing designs appear suboptimal as the primary platform of a lethal short-range UAV suite for Arctic allies. However, emerging military-grade FPVs, including fiber-optic ones, can provide a complementary, on-demand precision strike option for platoon and company-level formations.74 Norway just moved in this direction by allocating almost $150 million for the purchase of small lethal FPV drones such as the domestically built “Wasp,” which is now undergoing testing.75
Larger Class I multi-rotor platforms, employed with notable success as “bombers” by Ukraine, face similar cold-weather limits unless combustion-powered. They can carry ~20 kg for 40–50 minutes and deliver heavier vertically-dropped munitions out to ~50 km, but have limitations: 1) they are relatively costly, 2) they increase logistical complexity (spares, payloads, maintenance), 3) they require specific training, 4) they typically use unguided munitions and struggle against moving targets, and 5) they are easier to counter than faster fixed-wing strike UAVs.76 Consequently, for Arctic operations, they may be better suited to less demanding roles like logistics, signal relay, distance-mining, or mothership missions — inserting smaller lethal drones deep into enemy areas. Winterized designs and the integration of specific guided munitions will likely pave the way for kinetic roles of larger Class I rotary-wing platforms in Arctic warfare.77
The successful integration of the lethal UAVs illustrated above requires significant magazine depth, greater power generation, and organic intelligence, maintenance, and software support to exploit enemy vulnerabilities, ensure readiness, and stay ahead of adversary countermeasures.78
For operational and strategic-level strikes (up to 1,000 km or more in depth), the primary capability requirements are cost-effectiveness, range, and scalability to complement or replace scarcer and more expensive cruise missiles (or short-range ballistic missiles). We will refer to this type of UAV/platform as an “affordable deep strike munition.” In the High North, the target set of this munition would ideally include Russian fixed or stationary objectives such as airfields, troops staging areas, radar complexes, ammo/fuel depots, and — potentially — Bastion-P coastal batteries. Importantly, both Ukrainian and Russian experiences show that the added value of affordable deep strike munition capabilities lies not only in a more economic cost for deep strike campaigns relative to traditional effectors, but also in enhancing the latter’s effectiveness through complementary and decoy roles in complex strike packages.79 Hence, for Arctic allies (and NATO as a whole) there are valid reasons to take inspiration from Russian and Ukrainian one-way attack UAV capabilities for the development of allied variants.
A cost-effective, mass-deployable deep-strike alternative for (primarily) stationary targets should aim for a unit price roughly an order of magnitude lower than that of cruise/ballistic missiles (~$100,000–$170,000 versus ~$1–1.5M).80 To meet that price point, high-end jet engines, expensive terminal seekers, and complex C2 datalinks should be excluded in favor of slower designs with fuel-propeller (e.g., Auterion’s LR) or affordable mini-jets or fan-drive engines.81 Propeller airframes will need anti-ice coatings/lubricants, while electric propulsion is generally unsuitable in extreme cold as battery performance degrades sharply.
Effectiveness in denied environments requires a hardened navigation suite with multi-element GNSS and INS for baseline resilience, supplemented by a multi-mode AI-enabled visual navigation (optical, radar, celestial) to tackle Arctic conditions (uniform snow/ice, polar night, fog).82 Such a navigation suite increases complexity and power demand. An open-architecture design would enable incremental upgrades and mission-specific payloads without wholesale redesign.
Warhead sizing should balance lethality and platform constraints. A 50–70 kg weight is a practical baseline for damaging large, fixed targets at range and compensating for moderate propeller speeds (150–180 km/h). However, slower speeds raise vulnerability to air defenses. Hence, the most cost-effective solution could be a more complex but still affordable mini-jet or fan-drive configuration that improves speed and survivability while retaining affordability. An emerging class of small cruise missiles, such as Anduril’s Barracuda-500 (ground-launched, ~$200k estimated) or Rotron’s Defendor, represents an affordable deep strike option that could be palatable for Arctic allies (and others).83
Mobility and dispersal should be at the core of mass deep strike CONOPS and rely on launch from improvised strips, truck containers, or palletized canisters to enable rapid, dispersed salvos and reduce signature exposure to hostile sensors.84 As Ukrainian and Russian employment shows, effectiveness will also depend on careful mission planning to:
Table 3 — Affordable deep strike munition suggested specifications
Uncrewed ground vehicles can deliver persistent, precise fires and fire support in Arctic operations, reducing personnel exposure to harsh conditions and enemy fire. Scout UGVs can augment reconnaissance units, while rugged tracked or hybrid-electric UGVs can carry remote weapon stations or mortars as distributed firing nodes — raising tempo, lethality, and survivability of friendly fires while complicating enemy maneuver and response.85 They can also perform terrain-denial tasks (e.g., distance mining, extensively used in Ukraine), provide suppressive or support fires for maneuver units in a combined-arms team, and undertake engineering, distributed air-defense, or even long-range fire missions against land and maritime targets.86
However, systematic UGV employment for high-tempo maneuver scenarios in the High North requires more robust technical development, human-machine teaming constructs, and cold-weather operational testing.87 Furthermore, effective integration of UGVs entails doctrinal innovation and a profound rethinking of force design to ensure that robotic platforms do not create additional burdens (physical and cognitive) but rather act as a combat multiplier.88
Maritime drones are especially promising for the High North, given the region’s geography and Russia’s growing focus on modernizing its northern fleet. Beyond ISR, three key maritime missions stand out as particularly salient for drone use in the Arctic: anti-submarine warfare, anti-surface warfare, and mine-countermine warfare (MCM).
Anti-submarine warfare remains essential for sea control, protecting sea lines, and securing chokepoints like the Greenland–Iceland–UK, Bering Strait, and Bear Island–Svalbard gaps. Yet it is among the most complex missions. Modern submarines are quieter, and changing salinity and ice conditions complicate acoustics sensing; thus, anti-submarine warfare operations typically require an operationally and logistically intensive multidomain package of assets to succeed.89 UAVs, USVs, and UUVs can mitigate some of the challenges associated with this mission set in the High North by:
In the air, large UAVs offer unmatched persistence for wide-area search and rapid cueing of other assets (e.g., MPA, destroyers, frigates).90 Platforms like the MQ-9B can deploy sonobuoys and employ AI-augmented SIGINT to upscale and improve the detection of submarine communications (such as targeting information shared from Russian modernized Kilo and Yasen-M class boats), enhancing situational awareness over time.91 Class II maritime UAVs extend sensor reach, deploy expendable sonobuoys and magnetic detectors, and provide scalable coverage of chokepoints or littorals through affordable, low-risk operations.92
On the surface, USVs can deploy dipping sonar, sonobuoys, mines, or torpedoes, forming a forward sensing and strike layer around and ahead of capital ships.93 At the same time, UUVs enhance anti-submarine warfare, anti-surface warfare, and mine-countermine warfare through three functions: distributed sensing, persistent surveillance, and effects delivery, which are briefly illustrated below:94
Similarly, drones expand anti-surface warfare options by distributing sensing, targeting, and strike capabilities across the maritime battlespace while lowering risk to traditional ships and crews, increasing operational reach and lethality, and supporting a faster targeting loop. Overall, drones’ contribution to the destruction or damage of hostile surface combatants (as well as assets in other domains) is but one metric of their operational impact. Another is disruption, which forces the adversary to reallocate assets and resources away from its main effort. UAVs enable wide-area reconnaissance and cueing for naval and coastal fires. During the Rim of the Pacific Exercise 2024, for example, the MQ-9B employed its maritime radar to cue long-range anti-ship missiles.98 As the MQ-9B and other MALE UAVs receive a growing array of standoff PGMs, they can also deliver fire effects against ships and littoral targets.99
USVs can act as loitering platforms, expendable shooters, and network relays. As adjunct magazines and sensor nodes, large (60-90 meters in length) and medium (<60 meters in length) USVs extend a naval task group’s missile capacity and persistence — enabling the concept of “Every Ship a Surface Action Group.”100 In such a concept, crewed ships are sheltered from first-order risk while forward USVs provide fires and reconnaissance, including in melting-ice or partially ice-covered waters.101 Specialized USVs can perform one-way attacks against vessels, ports, and infrastructure, forcing adversaries to disperse or increase resources for defense.102
As successfully demonstrated by Ukraine, USVs’ modularity and scalability would also allow planners to employ them as “motherships” and distribute area-denial capabilities such as surface-to-air missiles across a maritime component’s area of responsibility, amplifying the reach of major surface combatants while reducing their exposure and presenting the adversary with multiple tactical dilemmas.103
UUV contributions include covert data collection, surveillance, targeting, tracking, and submerged strike options. Tactical UUVs excel at stealthy seabed mapping, approach-channel reconnaissance, and clandestine placement of sensors or mines, all of which shape where and when surface forces can maneuver. Extra-large UUVs also present soft- or hard-kill options from the sea.104
Uncrewed systems offer a decisive advantage for mine-countermine operations in the Arctic, where extreme conditions and limited infrastructure complicate traditional approaches. Both USVs and UUVs can carry mine-hunting payloads and tow side-scan sonars to detect and classify mine threats, including beneath the ice, while keeping crewed vessels outside high-risk areas.105 In the Arctic, by combining networked drones, Allied navies can build scalable mine-hunting networks that reduce single-point vulnerabilities and accelerate clearance timelines in chokepoints, straits, and harbor approaches to safeguard both commercial and military traffic.
In a future contingency, drone-based mine-countermine capabilities would allow NATO to survey and clear minefields more rapidly — even in contested or frozen conditions — mitigating Russian sea denial while preserving scarce manned assets. Meanwhile, USVs and UUVs can also perform mine-laying, providing cost-effective, covert tools for sea denial or protection of reinforcement routes, adding flexibility and deterrent depth. As several allied navies already operate mine-laying vessels for sea denial and defense of territorial waters, clear incentives exist for the creation of regional or multinational task groups with drones to expand MCM and other capabilities and facilitate burden sharing.106
NATO and Arctic allies should expect Russia to use uncrewed systems at scale as a force multiplier and to create operational dilemmas for the alliance. This obviously elevates C-UxS among the urgent priorities for both collective and individual capability development. Thanks to their scalability and operational flexibility, drones are uniquely placed to support and conduct this mission set, including by actively countering hostile intelligence, surveillance, reconnaissance, and targeting assets across multiple domains. Friendly drones can be used to create layered, low-cost sensor-to-shooter networks and scan the battlespace in search of enemy drones and other collection means such as antennas, cameras, and so on.
As seen in Ukraine, dedicated interceptor drones such as the Sting from the Wild Hornets company offer cost-effective kinetic defense options against UAVs for both fixed infrastructure and maneuver units. They can neutralize various enemy attack drones, including jet-powered one-way attack UAVs like the Geran-3, and engage fixed-wing ISR drones, offering a low-cost, mobile alternative to more expensive countermeasures.107 For operations in the High North, similar systems could be bundled into palletized, platform-agnostic launchers to complement laser-guided rockets (e.g., APKWS) or traditional anti-aircraft artillery at the company level. Ukrainian first-person-view (FPV) drones and loitering munitions directed by long-dwell ISR drones have also proven effective in hunting Russian UAV operators and small unmanned ground vehicles (UGVs), targeting launch positions and mobile systems with precision at tactical depth. Russia is now using the same tactic with increasing success.
In maritime applications, shipborne UAVs and USVs can conduct choke point patrolling, with the latter carrying palletized interceptor cells, EW nodes, and remote weapon systems to counter enemy drones, including USVs. Russian forces, for example, have adapted FPV drone tactics to attack Ukrainian uncrewed surface vessels and disrupt their operations before they reach critical targets in the Black Sea.108 These operational developments highlight how UAVs can serve not only as reconnaissance or strike assets but also as flexible countermeasures capable of disrupting the enemy’s use of uncrewed systems.
A new generation of uncrewed mobile directed systems, such as the Epirus–General Dynamics Land Systems’ Leonidas, also promises cost-effective swarm defeat capabilities for base defense or maneuver applications, although specific operational testing is required to validate these systems for the Arctic.109 In addition, drones can play a complementary role in IAMD by serving as passive sensor nodes to enhance target detection, tracking, and engagement.
To rapidly operationalize these capabilities in the Arctic, NATO and Arctic allies need to address three main challenges:
Overall, success also hinges on EW-resilient datalinks and on doctrinal updates to formalize cueing, airspace, and electromagnetic spectrum deconfliction, and engagement authority.
Drones provide significant tools for both logistics and search and rescue operations in the challenging environment of the Arctic. Their integration can reduce risks to military and rescue personnel, lower operational costs, and extend the operational reach of allied forces and civilian entities as well.
On land, hybrid crewed–uncrewed units could employ tracked UGVs to move supplies across snow and ice, limiting troop exposure and freeing personnel for other tasks. Robotic snowmobiles and medium VTOL drones can deliver blood, medical gear, and resupply to dispersed units or remote bases, avoiding costly helicopter sorties in dangerous conditions.111 For example, a logistics platoon of UGVs and heavy-lift UAVs could sustain frontline, isolated, or dispersed elements while also supporting casualty evacuation (CASEVAC).112 Ukraine offers a clear proof of concept, where ground and aerial drones routinely resupply remote positions or conduct CASEVAC missions due to persistent kamikaze drone threats.113 UGVs can also conduct engineering and clearing tasks, emergency repairs, and demining, providing a scalable, low-risk option in a region where area denial and mobility challenges will increase.
At sea, USVs, UUVs, and UASVs are ideal for replenishing NATO naval forces, supplying forces in contested environments while freeing manned platforms. In combat situations, specialized USVs can help locate survivors and ferry casualties to ships or areas ashore.114
For search and rescue, uncrewed systems offer unparalleled advantages, including scalable, rapidly deployable, and persistent monitoring of disaster zones along with emergency resupply. Long-endurance UAVs can cue responders, deliver medical aid, or locate survivors, while maritime USVs and UAVs monitor chokepoints and deploy life rafts. UUVs are already in extensive use for underwater critical infrastructure monitoring and repair.
Taken together, these developments illustrate how uncrewed systems are reshaping the intelligence, maneuver, fires, mobility/counter-mobility, and logistics support dimensions of modern operations — transforming traditionally high-risk, manpower-intensive tasks into distributed, resilient, and adaptive processes. As these technologies mature, they will enhance NATO’s ability to enable, protect, and sustain forces across remote and contested environments like the Arctic and Northern Europe.
The Arctic’s growing geopolitical relevance requires NATO to adapt its defense posture in the region. Uncrewed systems offer scalable and cost-effective means of enhancing domain awareness, resilience, deterrence, and defense. However, the region’s extreme conditions, logistical constraints, and complex political dynamics complicate integration. This chapter outlines the principal challenges and priority actions for NATO with concern to drone capability, policy, and doctrine development, procurement, and innovation.
Uncrewed systems offer NATO allies a unique opportunity to overcome human and operational constraints. By reducing the need for personnel, drones can expand the reach, duration, and persistence of operations in Arctic regions, including joint ISR, infrastructure monitoring, early warning, and communication relay missions in areas too dangerous or costly for crewed systems. They can also support resupply, evacuation, and layered defense missions — independently or in human-machine teaming constructs.
However, the environment still magnifies the technical vulnerabilities of uncrewed vehicles. Below –50°C, batteries lose endurance, ice buildup impairs propulsion and sensors, and UAVs face flight-envelope restrictions from icing, high winds, and scattered support infrastructure. UGVs must traverse deep snow and permafrost, while maritime drones contend with sea ice, GNSS and communication challenges, and saltwater corrosion. Most commercial USVs tolerate only sea states 4–5 (i.e., moderate to rough sea conditions, with waves about 1.25 to 4 meters high), which constrain their usage in the High North. UUVs rely on inertial and acoustic navigation under ice, which lose fidelity and reliability over distance.115
Priorities: Arctic conditions demand extensive cold-weather and maritime hardening (anti-icing and anti-corrosion systems, winterized electronics, advanced power systems, structural reinforcement) and multi-modal navigation for GNSS-degraded environments (e.g., inertial, visual, magnetic, and celestial solutions).
Multiple gaps exist between current NATO drone inventories and the specific demands of Arctic operations. Few vehicles are winterized or hardened for persistent use in the region’s extreme conditions. The alliance lacks persistent under-ice UUVs for critical undersea infrastructure (CUI) protection, mine-countermine, or anti-submarine warfare, and possesses too few long-range HALE/MALE drones and an even more limited supply of low-cost attritable UAVs for Arctic tactical Joint ISR or sustained denial missions. The same shortfall applies to interoperable meshes of drones for monitoring high-latitude Sea Lines of Communications (SLOCs), the Greenland-Iceland-United Kingdom (GIUK) Gap and NSR chokepoints, and conducting the abovementioned priority missions.
Exercises and operational experimentation, such as REPMUS, Dynamic Messenger, and Task Force X in the Baltic, amply demonstrate drones’ potential for maritime operations, but Arctic-specific capability development remains underfunded.116
Priorities: Develop an Arctic drone capability strategy to synchronize requirements, cooperation, and joint procurement, following the example of NATO JISR and maritime capability development strategies.
Sparse infrastructure, port facilities, and airfields, and limited communications coverage restrict drone launch, recovery, maintenance, and sustainment. UUV retrieval under ice and UAV launch from austere bases or small decks, for example, are constrained by extreme cold or the need for specialized equipment.
Priorities: NATO allies should invest in containerized launch and recovery systems, mobile maintenance kits, and testing and support infrastructure in key Arctic or Arctic-bordering allies. For infrastructure, allies should explore forward basing agreements and/or NATO Security Investment Programme (NSIP) funding, along with leveraging dual-use Arctic facilities and cooperation with commercial actors (e.g., oil, gas, and shipping companies).117
The Arctic’s remoteness and limited SATCOM availability — especially above 75°N — cause persistent communication gaps that hinder C2 and data sharing. Drones must therefore rely on edge computing and local autonomy to sustain operations and react to threats without constant operator input.
The JANUS underwater communications protocol (NATO STANAG 4748), developed in 2017 by NATO’s Centre for Maritime Research and Experimentation (CMRE), provides NATO and civilian entities a common acoustic standard that enables interoperable military-civilian underwater communication for missions such as rescue, anti-submarine warfare, and mine-countermine operations.118
As for space, two NATO High Visibility Projects can reinforce drone connectivity. First, the Alliance Persistent Surveillance from Space (APSS) enhances persistent surveillance by integrating government and commercial space assets. Second, NORTHLINK seeks to expand High North communications via commercial SATCOM constellations.119 Both can improve Joint ISR data flow and link drones for C2, targeting, and logistics.
NATO Should:
Ukraine demonstrates the scale and operational relevance of modern EW — jamming, spoofing, cyber-electronic attack — with its impact amplified in the Arctic’s degraded environment. The alliance and individual allies must plan and exercise for extensive and aggressive Russian EW, which can disrupt Joint ISR, human-machine teaming, swarm coordination, and kill-chain connectivity essential for drone employment.
Priorities: Resilience, testing. NATO uncrewed systems must be designed with resilience in mind, i.e., visual navigation systems, edge autonomy, hardened communications and data links (including fiber optic cabling), EW detection and avoidance, and fallback operation modes when links are jammed or lost. NATO should also integrate EW survivability testing into Arctic drone trials and field modular countermeasures such as passive RF detectors, decoys, and onboard jammers. NATO’s Joint EW Core Staff and Communications and Information Agency (NCIA) should lead Arctic EW threat simulation and embed resilience across drone development. The Testnor EW range in Andøya, Norway, offers a unique site to scale cold-weather EW experimentation for NATO and allied forces.120
Drones must operate within NATO’s broader force structure, supporting human-machine teaming, Joint ISR, and shared targeting data. Yet many systems lack modularity and standardization, while divergent national procurement rules, software interfaces, and data protocols — combined with non-compliance with allied standards and NATO’s slow standardization process — hinder interoperability.121
Priorities: NATO should continue digital transformation efforts and should advance interoperability, JISR, and maritime capability development objectives. For example, the alliance should establish an Arctic drone integration initiative under Allied Command Transformation (ACT) in conjunction with the NATO Centre of Excellence for Cold Weather Operations (COE CWO) and interested allies, which could develop common payload interfaces, data formats, and tactical procedures for Arctic drones. NATO’s Accelerating Interoperability and Standardization Fund (AISF) could support the development of Arctic-specific material or digital standards, while exercises like Cold Response, Steadfast Defender, and anti-submarine warfare/IAMD drills should integrate drones into scenario planning and force simulation.122
The effective integration of UxS and C-UxS capabilities into NATO’s Arctic posture requires substantial adaptation across force structure, planning, training, and rules of engagement to meet the demands of high-latitude uncrewed operations.
Force Structure Adaptation: NATO should establish modular, scalable, multidomain Arctic drone detachments or composite drone elements operating aerial, maritime, and land platforms with embedded EW and counter-drone capabilities. These formations should support NATO Rapid Deployable Corps and standing maritime groups for a flexible response. Arctic allies can draw valuable lessons from Ukraine and adapt those relevant to their environment and mission sets.
Training and Human Capital: Operationalizing Arctic drone integration requires tailored training pipelines for operators, mission commanders, and support staff, addressing cold-weather operations, autonomous systems management, and electromagnetic spectrum operations. NATO Centres of Excellence and Allied commands should incorporate drone operations into their curricula, with Arctic allies leading in doctrine development and winter warfare instruction.
Personnel must be trained in the complexities of human-machine teaming, multi-domain Joint ISR fusion, and deconfliction with civil aviation and operations while being able to manage autonomous systems under degraded C2 and strict rules of engagement (ROE).
Command and Control and Rules of Engagement: Arctic drone integration implies a shift in C2 models. NATO must establish C2 constructs that enable decentralized execution and high degrees of edge autonomy. Drone missions must be synchronized with force objectives, using operating frameworks that manage autonomy, data fusion, and operator-in-the-loop or on-the-loop authorities. For missions in areas with no civilian presence, the alliance should also envision ad hoc “operational boxes” permitting human-off-the-loop authority. ROE and legal protocols must clearly govern kinetic or electromagnetic effects near dual-use infrastructure and align with NATO peacetime and contingency planning.
Integration into NATO Plans and Planning Processes: A critical organizational consideration is the integration of Arctic drone capabilities into NATO plans. Regional Defense Plans must account for uncrewed systems as both enabling and supported capabilities, whether in Joint ISR, logistics, IAMD, or maritime operations. Uncrewed systems should also be prioritized in NATO’s four-year Defence Planning Process (NDPP), including in the establishment of minimum capability requirements and capability targets.
Both NATO commands such as Joint Force Command Norfolk and Allied Command Transformation (ACT) and NATO Centres of Excellence (e.g., Cold Weather Operations, Combined Joint Operations from the Sea, Naval Mine Warfare, Security of CUI, and Integrated Air and Missile Defence) must embed Arctic drones into planning scenarios, capability development tracks, and operational experimentation campaigns to develop Arctic-relevant drone CONOPS.
Priorities: Organizational adaptation — not just technological development — is paramount. NATO must embrace institutional agility and align planning, C2, ROE, training, and structures to successfully operationalize drones and counter drone systems across the Alliance.
NATO’s Arctic doctrine and drone concepts remain underdeveloped. The COE CWO recently issued its first cold-weather doctrinal publication (ATP-3.2.1.5) and is developing additional guidance on land tactics and a broader Alliance Concept for Cold Weather Operations, but these documents will not address Arctic drone employment or human-machine teaming in depth.123 Exercises and experimentation can accelerate doctrinal progress, but recent events like Cold Response only partially incorporate drones and lack Arctic-optimized human-machine teaming concepts. Advancing doctrine will require clear direction from NATO authorities and sustained resourcing.
Priorities: NATO should develop a doctrine for drone employment in Joint ISR and multi-domain awareness, area security, targeting, C2 support, search and rescue, and logistics and medical support, while also addressing human-machine teaming, collaborative or swarming operations in Arctic conditions. These doctrinal efforts should be validated in recurring Arctic exercises involving multiple drone types.
Procurement of Arctic-capable drones across NATO remains fragmented, slow, and risk-averse. Most allies buy vehicles optimized for global operations in temperate climates, treating Arctic-specific requirements as secondary modifications rather than purpose-built characteristics. This results in limited NATO-certified Arctic-ready drones. Furthermore, acquisition timelines for drone capabilities are misaligned with the pace of operational need and technological development. National procurement channels are often too slow to respond to emerging Arctic capability gaps, while multinational initiatives are slowed by divergent requirements and sovereignty concerns, thus limiting economies of scale.
Priorities: Alongside national procurement reforms, the alliance should encourage multinational approaches leveraging NATO’s Rapid Adoption Action Plan (RAAP), vendor consortia, framework or contractor-owned/operated contracts, and multinational projects to accelerate Arctic drone fielding and achieve economies of scale.124
Despite growing interest in uncrewed vehicles, few European or North American defense firms prioritize Arctic-specific drone research and development due to small-scale procurement, fragmented funding, and high technical risk. Dual-use startups and small and medium enterprises are further deterred by low demand, complex certification requirements, and long procurement cycles related to defense contracts in general.125 Innovation is also slowed by the lack of Arctic test ranges capable of validating systems in sub-zero, high-latitude conditions, thus creating barriers to entry for novel vehicles and reducing opportunities to adapt commercial technologies. A notable exception is NATO’s CWO COE in Elverum, Norway, which launched HEIMDALL (Harnessing Emerging Technologies and Innovations for Multi-Domain Capability Development in the Arctic Littoral Landscape) — a REPMUS-inspired Arctic experimentation initiative. Starting in February 2026, NATO will test drone sensors and effectors in fjords and mountainous terrain to accelerate adaptation for High North operations.126
NATO has multiple innovation levers relevant to Arctic drones. For example, nine of the Defence Innovation Accelerator for the North Atlantic’s (DIANA) ten 2025 challenges are applicable to NATO Arctic drone capabilities and employment.127 Three stand out: Autonomy and Unmanned Systems, Operations in Extreme Environments, and Maritime Operations. Six additional cross-cutting areas are applicable (e.g., Energy and Power, Resilient Space Operations). NATO and interested allies should leverage these avenues to spearhead the development of Arctic-capable drones. Another tool is the NATO Innovation Fund (launched in 2023), which invests in deep-tech. Its current portfolio includes autonomous maritime vehicles, AI edge computing, and energy storage. Arctic allies in the fund (Denmark, Finland, Iceland, Norway, Sweden) could steer priorities toward Arctic drones.128
Finally, the Rapid Adoption Action Plan adopted at the 2025 NATO summit in The Hague aims to field new capabilities within 24 months by accelerating testing, procurement, and industry collaboration, and could be used to fast-track Arctic-ready drones.129
NATO allies who are EU member states may be able to leverage EU defense innovation instruments to support Arctic drone development. The EU Defence Innovation Scheme (EUDIS), launched in 2022, supports startups, SMEs, and dual-use technologies through accelerators and EDF funding of up to €2 billion by 2027, including co-financing.130 The EDA’s Hub for EU Defence Innovation (HEDI) — with ~€25 million (2023–2027) — promotes cooperation, experimentation, and information sharing among member states for developing innovative defense capabilities aligned with EU strategic priorities.131
Although Arctic drones are not an explicit EU priority, they align with capability needs in the EU Capability Development Plan (CDP) and collaborative opportunities highlighted in the Coordinated Annual Review on Defence (CARD) report.132 As a result, most NATO allies (25 of 32, including Norway and the UK in certain programs) can tap EU funding instruments for Arctic-relevant projects, such as:133
Finally, the forthcoming Defence Security and Resilience Bank (DSRB), with a projected $1 trillion in capital, may soon provide low-cost, long-term loans for defense capabilities, including Arctic drones.134
Priorities: NATO and allies should respond with a targeted Arctic drone innovation strategy or address innovation in an Arctic drone capability development strategy. This should leverage DIANA, the NATO Innovation Fund, NATO’s Rapid Adoption Action Plan, the CWO COE HEIMDALL initiative, ACT, and EU innovation opportunities, and — where possible — EU defense funding instruments.
NATO’s long-term posture in the Arctic will increasingly rely on uncrewed systems as force multipliers that extend reach, enhance resilience, and reduce risk in a uniquely harsh and contested environment. As Arctic Sea routes open and competition accelerates, drones will become indispensable not only for Joint ISR and domain awareness but also for security, deterrence, and defense across the High North.
Yet the path to effective integration of Arctic-ready drones will demand deliberate planning, sustained investment, and organizational adaptation. The alliance must treat the Arctic as a present security frontier, where rivals are already shaping conditions through military expansion, infrastructure development, and hybrid activities. Uncrewed systems cannot and will not fully replace traditional forces, but they will complement them and enable persistent presence, early warning, and rapid response across multiple domains.
The next decade is a decisive window of opportunity. NATO should build Arctic-specific capabilities and infrastructure; refine concepts for drone and counter-drone operations, and human-machine teaming; and close persistent gaps in communication, C2, and interoperability. By leveraging defense innovation ecosystems and new NATO/EU instruments, the alliance can field scalable and interoperable uncrewed systems suited to the High North. Those who act now — and align doctrine, infrastructure, sustainment, and force development — will shape a future Arctic security architecture capable of deterring and defeating emerging threats.
To secure and defend Arctic-related interests, NATO and allies should align Arctic drone integration with broader efforts across capability, policy, and doctrine development, defense planning, and efforts related to resilience, innovation, defense investment, and procurement.
The authors wish to thank General Atomics Aeronautical Systems Inc. (GA-ASI) for supporting this study, along with the experts, practitioners, and colleagues who contributed their insights, feedback, and support throughout this project.
They also would like to thank Minna Alander, Vice Adm. (Ret.) Andrew “Woody” Lewis, and Nicholas Nelson for their time as peer reviewers on this project. The authors would also like to thank all the participants of CEPA’s delegation trip to Denmark and Norway, as well as the staff at CEPA who helped bring this project to fruition, namely Catherine Sendak, Noah Greene, Sarah Krajewski, Michael Newton, Peter Roberto, and Jason Israel. Finally, they are especially grateful to the many experts who were interviewed, participated in working groups, and the participants in our strategic scenario exercise.
CEPA maintains strict intellectual independence over all publications and projects.
Federico Borsari is a Non-Resident Fellow at the Center for European Policy Analysis (CEPA) and a cohort of the NATO 2030 Global Fellowship. At CEPA, he focuses on issues at the intersection between technology and international security, in particular, unmanned systems and autonomy, and his portfolio also includes NATO and transatlantic defense and security.
Maj. Gen. (Ret) Skip Davis is a Non-resident Senior Fellow at the Center for European Policy Analysis (CEPA). He was NATO’s Deputy Assistant Secretary General for Defense Investment after retiring from the US Army after more than 37 years of service. Commissioned in the infantry he served the first half of his career in rapid deployment airborne and infantry units and spent over 20 years abroad including command in Iraq and Afghanistan, and multiple operations in Africa and the Balkans.
CEPA is a nonpartisan, nonprofit, public policy institution. All opinions expressed are those of the author(s) alone and may not represent those of the institutions they represent or the Center for European Policy Analysis. CEPA maintains a strict intellectual independence policy across all its projects and publications.
The post High Stakes in the High North: Harnessing Uncrewed Capabilities for Arctic Defense and Security appeared first on CEPA.
2025-12-16 06:07:36
A few decades ago, Japan Inc. supplied almost 90% of the world’s memory chips, and just over 50% of the entire semiconductor market. Trade tensions flared between the US and Europe. The industry shifted, moving to processors and chip designers who outsourced to manufacturing foundries, most in Taiwan and South Korea.
Today, Japan is back, reinventing itself as a vital semiconductor global player. From critical minerals and chemicals to lithography and semiconductor equipment, the country has charted a path to reduce supply risks. The success shows how smart policy can neuter China’s potential stranglehold. As a reliable ally, Japan will play a key role in the just announced US Pax Silica project designed to reinforce the “silicon supply chain — from critical minerals and energy inputs to advanced manufacturing, semiconductors, AI infrastructure, and logistics.”
The initial spark came in 2010, when China imposed a rare earth export embargo on Japan amid a diplomatic spat, revealing the risks of overreliance on a single supplier for essential materials. At that time, Japan depended on China for up to 90% of its rare earth elements — critical not only for semiconductors, but also electronics and automobiles.
Japanese policymakers, manufacturers (such as Toyota and Sony), and government agencies launched a nationwide effort to “de-risk.” It partnered with Australia’s Lynas Rare Earths, the largest non-China producer, and expanded a processing plant in Malaysia. By 2025, Japan had cut its dependence on Chinese rare earths to around 60%.
This 15-year sustained effort shows how Tokyo mobilizes for the long term. In parallel with reinforcing foreign supplies, Japanese companies JSR, Shin-Etsu, and Tokuyama dominate the chemicals needed in EUV (extreme ultraviolet) lithography machines needed to etch silicon chips. Japan is also strong in silicon wafer manufacturing, with Shin-Etsu Chemical and SUMCO among the world’s largest suppliers.
This chemical chokepoint is powerful. In 2019, Japan imposed export restrictions on these chemicals to South Korea during a bilateral dispute.
But Japan most often prefers working with, not against, allies. It has imposed export controls to limit China’s access to advanced chipmaking supplies, and has signed semiconductor partnership agreements with countries around the globe, including the US, Vietnam, and India.
Partners are key to boosting domestic chip production. The government has spent billions to convince Taiwan’s TSMC to build a giant new fab on farmland in Kikuyo in southwestern Japan. It opened last February, and a second plant is now planned.
Japan’s biggest chip bet is Rapidus, a startup founded in 2022. Backed by the government and corporate heavyweights like Toyota, Sony, and SoftBank, Rapidus is constructing a fab on the northern island of Hokkaido. It is successfully prototyping a 2nm gate-all-around transistor in partnership with IBM — a tangible step toward reclaiming advanced manufacturing leadership. If this high-stakes gamble pays off, Japan’s “Island of Flowers” could become the Pacific’s next Silicon Valley.
Japan is already a world leader in lithography and semiconductor equipment, controlling around 30% of the global manufacturing equipment market with key Japanese companies like Tokyo Electron, Nikon, and Canon.
Behind the chipmakers stand Japan’s electronics giants — including Sony, Panasonic, and Toshiba. Sony is a global leader in image sensors, while Panasonic has advanced expertise in automotive and industrial chips, often partnering with other national and global players for R&D and production.
While Japan’s industry is strong in key “front-end” (wafer production) and “back-end” (assembly, testing, packaging) steps, it also continues to excel in core materials and chemicals, further anchoring its role in the global supply web.
Despite current advances, challenges remain: Japan must secure more than $32 billion in capital for scaling up production and faces a critical shortage of highly trained semiconductor engineers. Historic issues — such as fragmented industry structure and slow adaptation to industry consolidation — limit Japanese leadership in cutting-edge AI chips.
Both the US and Europe should see Japan as an essential and trusted ally for securing the future of global semiconductor supply chains. Japan’s unmatched capabilities across the value chain, deep-rooted collaborations with American and European technology leaders, and proven reliability stand in direct opposition to the competitive and geopolitical risks posed by China.
Christopher Cytera CEng MIET is a Senior Fellow with the Tech Policy Program at the Center for European Policy Analysis and a technology business executive with over 30 years’ experience in semiconductors, electronics, communications, video, and imaging.
Bandwidth is CEPA’s online journal dedicated to advancing transatlantic cooperation on tech policy. All opinions expressed on Bandwidth are those of the author alone and may not represent those of the institutions they represent or the Center for European Policy Analysis. CEPA maintains a strict intellectual independence policy across all its projects and publications.
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2025-12-16 06:03:59
High energy prices are hurting Europe’s tech hopes. Average electricity prices for heavy industries in the European Union remain roughly twice those in the US and 50% above those in China. Germany now has the developed world’s highest domestic electricity prices.
The energy crisis drags down energy-intensive investments in data centers. It hurts European firms trying to train and run large energy-intensive AI models.
Fusion could help close the gap. It is a clean form of nuclear energy. By fusing light hydrogen atoms, fusion releases heat without the long-lived radioactive waste produced by traditional nuclear power. Fusion fits well with the EU’s ambitious climate goals; it is a zero-carbon source of power that can complement renewables, reduce dependence on imported fuels, and provide high-temperature heat. Former Italian Prime Minister Mario Draghi’s influential competitiveness report prioritizes fusion in Europe’s growth strategy.
Yet fusion remains at the margins of Europe’s industrial policy, rather than at its center. There’s no time to waste. American and Chinese companies now talk about connecting pilot plants to the grid in the early 2030s.
In contrast, Europe’s current roadmap looks cautious. It plans to launch its first demonstration plant in the 2040s, and large-scale commercial deployment will only come afterwards. That logic made sense when fusion was regarded as a long-term research project. It fits poorly with an industry revving up large-scale projects in the next decade.
The irony is that Europe is a leader in fusion research. Its International Thermonuclear Experimental Reactor (ITER) in southern France has demonstrated a self-heating “burning plasma” — a critical milestone in which the fusion creates enough heat to sustain itself rather than relying on external energy input. The EU also runs some of the world’s most advanced fusion laboratories, with its Barcelona-based Fusion for Energy (F4E) managing more than 1,300 procurement contracts worth over €7 billion.
But European governance remains divided. EUROfusion, the consortium coordinating EU-funded fusion research, manages research programs but cannot sign partnership contracts with industry. F4E manages international partnerships and industrial procurement, but it has no say over research projects. The overlapping structures limit direct support for private developers who aim to build fusion plants.
Regulation adds an additional layer of uncertainty. For investors and utilities, the key question is simple: will fusion plants be licensed like nuclear fission reactors, or under a lighter framework closer to particle accelerators and industrial sources? The US and the UK have already separated fusion regulations from those regarding traditional, much more dangerous nuclear power. Japan is following suit.
The EU has not. National governments, not Brussels, will license facilities. The EU’s nuclear Euratom agency — the treaty-based framework that sets rules for nuclear safety, radiation protection, and nuclear research across member states — should follow US leadership and separate fusion from fission.
Financing represents another problem. Even though Europe hosts credible fusion companies, most of the roughly $8-10 billion in global private fusion funding has flowed to US firms. European capital markets are cautious. Where the US uses public money to anchor private investment, Europe’s fusion startups are left to navigate generic innovation schemes and national programs.
The EU should refocus its research around commercializing, not just studying, fusion, according to the independent think tank the Clean Air Task Force. It should open its R&D programs to the private sector. It should coordinate major test facilities to pursue commercial projects. And it should treat fusion as a strategic green technology across EU law, making it eligible for the same industrial support deployed for batteries, hydrogen, and other clean-tech sectors.
Unless Europe changes, many of its fusion leaders will likely build their first plants abroad, where capital, regulation, and industrial policy are supportive. Europe’s role risks narrowing to that of a high-end supplier: providing components, codes, and talent to a fusion industry headquartered elsewhere.
The coming EU Fusion Strategy, due at the end of this year or early next year, must decide whether fusion will become another sector in which Europe provides the science while others build the industry, or whether the bloc is ready to bet big on a technology that could power its competitiveness.
Dr. Anda Bologa is a senior researcher in the Tech Policy Program at the Center for European Policy Analysis (CEPA).
Bandwidth is CEPA’s online journal dedicated to advancing transatlantic cooperation on tech policy. All opinions expressed on Bandwidth are those of the author alone and may not represent those of the institutions they represent or the Center for European Policy Analysis. CEPA maintains a strict intellectual independence policy across all its projects and publications.
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