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Britain's Decision to Refuse the use of its Air Bases for Operation Epic Fury

Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer; Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike.

Alexander Pope, Epistle to Dr Arbuthnot

When explaining his reaction to American requests to use RAF airbases in the early phases of Operation Epic Fury, Britain's Prime Minister, Sir Kier Starmer presented himself as an honest and trustworthy, but independently minded, ally of America. This approach was entirely consistent with his excruciatingly transparent faux attempts at bonhomie with President Donald Trump, epitomised by his inauthentic fawning to the American leader whenever the two meet on the world stage. Starmer, it seems, wanted to maintain the illusion of Britain's commitment to 'the special relationship' with America, while separately forging a pathway to closer political, economic and military relations with the European Union. Unfortunately for Starmer, the subterfuge began to unravel when Israel and America decided to attack Iran. The war has exposed the obvious antipathy with which Trump is held by many ministers in Starmer's Labour government Cabinet.

Consequently, the requests for permission to use RAF Fairford and the jointly operated Diego Garcia airbase, as launch pads for American missions against the cruel, murderous and belligerent Iranian theocracy, were refused. Since then, the British have attempted to explain away the rationale for the initial rejection as a consequence of government's desire to adhere to an ethical and coherent foreign policy, designed to satisfy Britain's national interests. The Attorney General, Lord Richard Hermer, the architect of the initiative to give the strategically important Indian Ocean island base, Diego Garcia, to China-friendly Mauritius, adjudged that permitting the launch of attacks from British territory, without a sufficiently robust reason for doing so, would break international law.1Understandably, the American administration was not impressed. Pete Hegseth, the United States Secretary of War expressed his frustration at the decision thus:

Capable partners are good partners. Unlike so many of our traditional allies who wring their hands and clutch their pearls, hemming and hawing about the use of force. 2

Nevertheless, many, if not most, of Britain's mainstream media outlets expressed broad sympathy with Hermer's understanding of the legitimacy of the attacks on Iran, with a routinely positive spin on appraisals of Starmer's desire to adopt an ethical approach to the country's foreign policy dilemmas.3 The population were similarly influenced. At Prime Ministers Questions in the House of Commons on 4 March, Starmer appeared enthused by polling undertaken three days earlier, which appeared to vindicate the popularity of the stance the government had taken. He confidently argued that the emphasis on defence, rather than attack, would help keep us safe, and thereby safeguard our 'national interests'. This approach certainly resonated with the nation's pacifists, who are inclined to believe that war has no justifiable basis, as well as with those who are instinctively anti-American, and/or anti-Trump.

Starmer wasn't prepared 'for the UK to join a war unless' he was 'satisfied there was a lawful basis and a viable thought-through plan' to enact it.'4 This assessment, of course, implied that the evidence presented to senior ministers in the National Security Council (NSC) meetings did not indicate that Iran was close to procuring a nuclear weapon and that other nefarious concurrent activity Iran routinely undertook against western interests, which might have met the threshold necessary to satisfy a more robust response, was not imminent. Nonetheless, Starmer's statement to the House of Commons suggested that if other evidence had been forthcoming, or that other coordinated activities across the globe might soo...

"All façade and no filler." That characteristically blunt assessment captures the tone and thrust of Multidomain Operations: The Pursuit of Battlefield Dominance in the 21st Century, an edited volume by Amos Fox and Frantz-Stefan Gady. At a time when "multidomain operations" (MDO) has become the dominant, if ill-defined, concept in Western military thinking, Multidomain Operations sets out to interrogate its intellectual foundations, practical utility, and coherence. The result is a sustained and often damning critique of what many contributors see as a concept full of ambition but short on substance.

The volume is structured into four parts. The first explores the origins and lineage of multidomain doctrine, tracing how and where it emerged from. Part two examines the practical considerations, including force design and implementation challenges. Part three looks at tensions with contemporary conflict and tests MDO against the realities of warfare. The final section offers international perspectives that both reinforce and complicate the core critique.

At its core, and oversimplifying enormously, the book advances several interlocking arguments about why multidomain operations are not fit for purpose. First, the doctrine's development process was deeply flawed. Contributors argue that MDO is the product of bureaucratic compromise rather than intellectual clarity, resulting in a concept shaped by institutional consensus over operational necessity. The language of MDO, replete with buzzwords such as "convergence," "integration," and "cross-domain synergy, is criticised as vague and imprecise. This lack of definitional clarity, particularly within U.S. military thinking, is not, according to the writers, only an academic concern. It has real implications for how doctrine is interpreted and applied undermining its potential value.

Second, the book contends that multidomain operations lack a coherent theory of victory. While MDO promises to deliver battlefield dominance through the integration of capabilities across land, sea, air, cyber, and space, it remains unclear how this integration translates into strategic success. Without a clear theory linking tactical actions to strategic outcomes, MDO risks becoming an exercise in operational abstraction.

Third, and perhaps most damagingly, Multidomain Operations argues that MDO lacks credible tactical application. Robert Rose's chapter is particularly effective in this regard, highlighting how combat teams struggled to understand, and therefore implement, the doctrine. Rose's argument that MDO's "twisted roots" lie in bureaucratic compromise resonates strongly: in attempting to satisfy multiple stakeholders, the concept has become diluted to the point of impracticality. This critique aligns closely with Amos Fox's broader argument that MDO lacks both the resources and the operational clarity required to work as intended. While much of this analysis is grounded in the U.S. Army experience, other contributors extend the critique to joint and tri-service contexts, suggesting that the problem is systemic rather than service-specific.

A recurring theme throughout the book and one echoed in other critical commentary on MDO is the issue of technological overreach. Davis Ellison and Tim Sweijs pose the provocative question: "Does the emperor have any clothes?" Their answer is, at best, uncertain. MDO is predicated on the assumption that advanced technologies, particularly in areas such as networking, artificial intelligence, and long-range precision fires, will enable seamless integration across domains. Yet many of these capabilities remain immature or unevenly distributed. As a result, the concept risks being built on a foundation of technological optimism rather than operational reality. This critique is consistent with wider debates in defence circles, where concerns about over-reliance on unproven technologies have become increasingly prominent.

The question of the adversary further ...

This article is about the so-called 'scramble for the Arctic'. This would be a story of high farce rather than the high North but for threats made by the current US administration to forcibly annex Greenland – the territory of a NATO ally – on the spurious grounds that the island is 'covered with Russian and Chinese ships all over the place', and America must 'own' Greenland as a matter of security to prevent imagined Russian or Chinese ownership. Republican Senator Randy Fine has introduced a Greenland Annexation and Statehood Act that would authorise the White House to annex Greenland 'by any means necessary'. Control of Rare Earth Elements (REEs) is cited as a key reason why America must annex Greenland, ignoring the wishes of Greenlanders and setting aside what would be a gross assault on Denmark and more widely Europe and NATO.

People's Liberation Army Navy (PLAN) in Greenland

No Chinese warship has ever visited Greenland. There is no evidence a PLAN nuclear submarine has ever deployed to Greenland waters either. How would it get there and why would it anyway. At the time of writing of this article there are no commercial Chinese ships near Greenland either. The simple matter of logging on MarineTraffic and checking the AIS identities of vessels in these waters would tell you this.

Chinese mines in Greenland

There are no Chinese mines in Greenland. There never have been. It is unlikely there ever would be except in partnership with other Western companies. There was a period (2011-2018) when China expressed interest in mining and infrastructure projects but it came to nothing. Shenghe Resources currently has a 10.5% stake in the Kvanefjeld rare earths project. However, this project, led by the Australian Energy Transition Minerals, was halted in 2021 over uranium contamination fears and is subject to an $11.4 billion damages suit. It is unlikely it will proceed.

The Russian Navy (Northern Fleet) in Greenland

No Russian warship has ever visited Greenland. Or will. A Russian warship would not be welcomed in a NATO territory.

Russian Naval Aviation is moribund and reliant on the small number of Soviet-era aircraft that remain airworthy. The Northern Fleet surface fleet rests on three modern frigates, only one of which ever sails at a time. The nuclear submarine fleet is finally leaving behind the troubled 90s and noughties with the commissioning of the Yasen-M and Borei-A class boats. It needs to – the old Soviet nuclear boats had become a menace to everyone (and indeed Western countries provided extensive financial and technical assistance in their decommissioning). The Fleet's best conventional capabilities are the Kinzhal and Tsirkon hypersonic missiles – which Putin is inordinately proud of – but Ukrainian air defenders have proved Russian hypersonic missiles can, in fact, be downed.

Northern Fleet naval towns and bases on the Kola Peninsula are a picture of dilapidation and decline (which US intelligence perfectly knows). Just this New Year, districts of Severomorsk – almost all naval families or contractors – woke up without heat of electricity, in minus 30 degrees. If you could engage in a conversation with a sailor of the Northern Fleet, they would be much less inclined to talk about competition in the Arctic and more likely to vent views on the post-Soviet squalor and humiliation of their daily lives.

Soviet Military Power 1988 (DoD)

When a threat truly existed in the Arctic. NATO monitored between 130-140 Northern Fleet Russian submarines. Today, as many as two Russian nuclear submarines may be on patrol.

There are no Russian commercial ships in Greenland waters either at this moment. Check MarineTraffic. The absolute and urgent priority for Russian commercial shipping currently is the 'shadow fleet' and associated oil and gas exports, not Greenland.

Russian mines in Greenland

There are no Russian mines in Greenland. There never have been. There won't be. Russian mining is in crisis: high interest rates, under-...

Peter Apps's The Next World War: The New Age of Global Conflict and the Fight to Stop It is a timely and unsettling exploration of the shifting dynamics of global power, the resurgence of large-scale warfare, and the general state of international security in the 21st Century. Drawing on both his background as a journalist and extensive firsthand reporting, The Next World War is Peter Apps's at his best. Compelling, engaging, and excellent. In many ways The Next World War is a history of the future.

At its core, The Next World War argues that the post Cold War illusion of peace has collapsed. Apps describes a world where great power competition has returned with renewed intensity driven primarily by tensions between the United States, China, and Russia. Rather than presenting war as a distant or hypothetical possibility, Apps frames it as a credible risk within the coming decade. A risk that is already shaping policy, military planning, and everyday life.

One of The Next World War's greatest strengths is its ability to ground geopolitical tensions in real world settings. The focus on China and Taiwan, for example, are effective and his narrative makes it relevant to an average reader. Apps explores the normalcy of daily life with the looming threat of invasion highlighting how interconnected events are to normal human beings in reality. This contrast underscores one of his central arguments, and paraphrasing, that modern societies often exist in a state of cognitive dissonance, simultaneously aware of but detached from the possibility of catastrophic conflict.

Apps's analysis of potential flashpoints is comprehensive. He examines the Taiwan Strait, Eastern Europe, the Middle East, and locks in analysis from domains like space and cyber. Each region is presented not in isolation, but as part of an interconnected global system where crises overlap. Particularly compelling is his discussion of how simultaneous conflicts, such as a Chinese attack on Taiwan coinciding with Russian aggression in Europe, could overwhelm existing military and political structures. This multi theatre and global perspective raises The Next World War from other texts which generally focus on a single-conflict analyses.

Another notable aspect is Apps's emphasis on the changing character of warfare. He argues, and oversimplifying, that while nuclear weapons still loom in the background, most conflicts are likely to begin, and remain, in the conventional domain, at least initially. However, these conventional wars would be far from traditional. The integration of drones, cyber, artificial intelligence, and space based systems add how they add new unpredictability. Apps's descriptions of drone warfare in Ukraine, for example, highlights both the technological sophistication and the realities of modern combat.

The Next World War also engages with the concept of deterrence. Apps revisits Cold War theories while acknowledging their limitations in a more complex and multipolar world. He suggests that deterrence today requires not just military strength, but also political cohesion, economic resilience, and societal preparedness. Finland is presented as a model of this approach, with its culture of national service and readiness serving as a counterpoint to what Apps sees as complacency in many Western nations. Linking these points The Next World War is a stark challenge to NATO policy makers.

Stylistically, Apps strikes a balance between journalistic clarity and analytical rigor. His prose is accessible without being simplistic, and he avoids excessive jargon. The inclusion of interviews with military personnel, policymakers, and civilians adds texture and authenticity, making the book engaging as well as informative.

Perhaps the most powerful aspect of The Next World War is its underlying message that the risk of global conflict is not inevitable, but it is real. And increasing. Apps does not succumb to fatalism in this. Instead, he emphasizes the role of h...

Amongst those countries that have engaged energetically with the concept of human security (HS), the UK has arguably led the way on integrating it into defence. Beyond smatterings of HS-related ideas across various UK defence doctrine publications and concept notes, the UK was the first country to formalise HS within military policy in 2019 (through JSP 1325, which was replaced by JSP 985 in 2021). There are HS-focused groups within various parts of the MoD; HS often features as part of pre-deployment training; the UK Defence Academy runs a Defence Human Security Advisory (DHSA) course, catering to both UK and foreign students; and the UK government announced plans back in 2019 to establish a Centre of Excellence for Human Security (although this has yet to see the light of day).

The real-world effectiveness of HS integration and operationalisation is difficult to assess, let alone measure. Nevertheless, it seems that much of the effort around operationalising HS within defence seems to omit an appreciation that the underlying logic of human security appears more inherently relevant to defence — and indeed more operationalisable in principle — than might otherwise be thought. Perhaps much of this is because a robust logic of human security is rarely, if ever, articulated.

That is what this article seeks to do. It puts forward a claim about the underlying logic of HS, by reasoning through what the concept is about, why it emerged, and how it proposes to solve the problem(s) it responds to. With its logic unpacked and articulated in this manner, the military salience of HS should be all the more apparent.

The What

As a security studies concept, HS focuses on the security of individuals and their communities. It is founded on the twin pillars of 'freedom from fear' and 'freedom from want' (a third pillar is often cited as 'freedom from indignity'). Given that the unit of analysis for HS is individual people, in analytical terms it can be contrasted with national security whose unit of analysis is the (nation-)state, and with international security whose unit of analysis is the international system of states. From this, we can write out the first part of the logic of human security — the what — as follows:

The HS concept:

(a) identifies people as the unit of security analysis.

So far, this is mostly common knowledge to those with a basic awareness of HS. But why is it necessary to focus on the security of the individual?

The Why

All concepts serve a purpose: they help us understand and navigate the world. So when new concepts arise, it is typically in response to the perceived inadequacies of pre-existing ones. This is no less true when it comes to security studies concepts. To shed light on the why of the HS concept we need to understand the driving force(s) behind its emergence. Much has been written about the confluence of factors that eventually formalised the concept in the UN's 1994 Human Development Report, and fully conveying that story is beyond the scope of this piece. However, there are a few points to highlight.

The concept of HS was conceived in the late 20th century in response to the perceived inadequacies of the traditional security studies concepts — primarily that of national security. National security had its foundations in realist theories of international politics, which positioned states as the primary unit of analysis (i.e., the thing to be secured) and emphasised hard military power (i.e., bullets and bombs) as the means for each state to achieve security against the others.

The challenge was that in the second half of the 20th century, an increasing number of violent conflicts appeared to be happening within states rather than between them. The traditional lens of national security didn't have much to say about civil wars, ethnic violence, and genocides. What's more, the national security lens appeared to gloss over the reality that in much of the world, issues like economic deprivation, disease, malnu...