The Royal Navy’s future Large Uncrewed Surface Vessels and the cultural obstacles to autonomy

From Navylookout 

In this guest article, Matthew Bell, an officer in the Royal Australian Navy, considers the cultural challenges may be a bigger barrier to the RN’s adoption of Large Uncrewed Surface Vessels (LUSVs) than technical issues such as satellite bandwidth or artificial intelligence.
Bringing LUSVs into service will mean changing long-standing maritime traditions, not just updating technology.

With ships like the XV Patrick Blackett and the quick rollout of the Mine Hunting Capability (MHC) programme, the Royal Navy is moving past the testing phase.
Uncrewed systems are now becoming key parts of the fleet.
The latest plan calls for a “hybrid fleet” that mixes traditional ships with autonomous platforms.
As the Navy brings in systems like the Rattler USV and MHC boats, it must also overcome cultural resistance, not just technical hurdles.

Navies are naturally conservative, relying on clear hierarchy, strict accountability, and generations of “sea sense” to handle the unpredictability of the ocean.
The RN, especially, values traditions that make it slow to adopt automation.
Hierarchical command, discipline, and respect for the chain of command are central to naval life.
Seamanship, which combines technical skill and instinct, is learned through years at sea.
Removing people from ships confronts these core beliefs and raises questions about whether such experience can be replaced by automation.
While building a machine that can run autonomously for 30 days is tough, integrating it into a fleet that values human judgment and presence is even harder.

The trust deficit

Trust is the biggest challenge in the command cycle.
The Commanding Officer of a destroyer or frigate can judge their Officer of the Watch’s fatigue, experience, and judgment with a quick conversation or a look across the room.
This shared understanding and training have shaped naval command for centuries.
The CO knows their team has the same background, follows the same rules, and shares the same sense of responsibility.

Replacing a crew member with an algorithm or a remote operator breaks this intuitive connection.
The key question is whether a CO can trust an LUSV to hold its position in a rough storm as much as they trust a human crew.
In a crisis, hesitation to rely on a robot’s threat assessment could be deadly.
Trust in automation can go wrong in two ways: operators might trust the system too much, even when it’s wrong, or commanders might not use its full abilities because they don’t trust it.
In traditional command, an officer can explain their tactical decisions.
Artificial intelligence systems often cannot explain their choices, such as why a contact was flagged as hostile.
For a service committed to accountability, this lack of transparency is problematic.
When commanders cannot understand a USV’s actions, they may choose to use it only in safe, low-risk roles, limiting its intended contribution.

 

Accountability vacuum

The Navy’s legal and ethical framework assumes that a “master” is always responsible.
The RN’s internal culture of discipline relies on a clear chain of command where the Captain is ultimately responsible for everything that happens on their ship.
If a frigate runs aground, the Captain’s career is effectively over, regardless of whether they were asleep in their cabin or on the bridge.
This absolute accountability drives the extreme diligence and caution that keep the fleet safe.
LUSVs make accountability less clear.
If an autonomous vessel makes a mistake or breaks navigation rules, it’s hard to know who is at fault.
Is it the remote operator, the software engineer, or the commander who gave the order?

The current naval justice system is ill-equipped to prosecute a software error.
Until the Navy can clearly articulate the chain of accountability for machine failure and specifically, “who goes to Court Martial” when a robot fails, commanders will remain risk-averse.
There is likely a palpable fear among senior officers of being the first to have their careers ended by a glitch in a system they cannot physically touch or override.
This hesitation will likely lead to restrictive Rules of Engagement for any USVs, effectively voiding their potential capability.

Sailor identity crisis

The Navy workforce will also be facing an identity crisis.
For centuries, joining the Navy meant going to sea, sharing close quarters, enduring tough deployments, and building strong bonds through shared experiences.
These traditions have created the teamwork needed in combat.

As more LUSVs and uncrewed minehunters are used, more crew members will work from shore.
Their skills are now closer to those of air traffic controllers or drone pilots than traditional sailors.
This shift could create a cultural divide, with remote operators being seen as less important than those at sea.
To adjust to this, the Navy could create new symbols of prestige, such as special badges or call signs, and hold ceremonies to recognise remote operators.
This would help raise the status of shore-based roles and make them part of naval tradition.

A ‘Warrior Ethos’ is central to military effectiveness.
Historically, it has been driven by shared risk, where a sailor on a warship knows that if they fail to shoot down an incoming missile, their own life is in jeopardy.
For remote operators, however, the risk they face is not physical peril but rather the potential jeopardy to mission success and fleet integrity.
This reframing from personal survival to mission-critical outcomes is necessary for maintaining the same level of urgency and commitment.
The Navy must adapt to instil the same sense of discipline and fighting spirit in personnel who operate remotely, ensuring they understand the profound impact of their role in mission success, even if they may go home after their shift has ended.

Furthermore, recruitment becomes a battleground of culture.
The technical aptitude required to manage complex autonomous systems often correlates with a personality type that can conflict with traditional military rigidity. 

The Navy may struggle to retain the tech-savvy talent needed for these roles if the institution insists on forcing them into conventional sailors’ moulds that do not fit their operational reality.
The Maritime Autonomous Surface Ships (MASS) UK Code of Practice highlights the need for specific training certifications.
Still, the cultural prestige attached to these new roles has yet to be established.
If the Navy cannot make the role of a USV controller culturally aspirational, it will fail to man the unmanned fleet.

 

The erosion of ‘sea sense’

Senior officers say ‘sea sense’ is the instinct and experience that sailors gain from being at sea, not from simulators.
There are real worries that remote operators may lose this connection and miss the subtle cues needed to understand the maritime environment.

A remote operator may have perfect data feeds, but they cannot feel the ship’s motion or experience the subtle changes in the wind.
This sensory deprivation could lead to decisions that appear logical on a display but are dangerous in reality.
For instance, forcing a hull through a head sea may seem efficient on a chart plotter, but a sailor onboard would recognise the hull is under critical stress from the sound of the waves slamming against it.
With the absence of this feedback loop, remote operators may unintentionally damage vessels or place them in situations from which they cannot be retrieved.

A proposed mitigation for this lack of ‘sea sense’ could be periodic embarked days for remote operators, allowing them to experience firsthand the conditions and stresses encountered at sea.
This hands-on experience could restore some intuition, bridging the gap between diagnosis and remedy, although it is likely that autonomy and remote operations will lead to an erosion of ‘sea sense’.
The death of damage control culture

One of the Royal Navy’s biggest strengths is its damage control culture.
Every sailor, no matter their job, is trained to fight fires and stop floods.
The motto is ‘Float, Move, Fight.’ 

This builds a strong bond with the ship, making it feel like a living thing that he crew works to protect.

USVs change this completely.
A LUSV has no damage control team.
If it catches fire, it burns; if it’s damaged, it sinks.
The focus shifts from saving the ship to using it as an expendable asset.
While it makes sense to lose equipment rather than lives, this is a significant shift in thinking.
It turns a warship, once a symbol of national pride, into something more like a glorified tin can.

This change could lead to a careless attitude about maintenance.
If no one lives on the ship, why keep it polished or maintain it thoroughly? 

The ‘pride of the fleet’ mindset leads to high standards.
Without a crew to take ownership, LUSVs could be neglected and become unreliable.
The Navy needs to help shore-based teams feel the same pride in these vessels as if they were living on them, or readiness will drop.

Integrating the hybrid fleet

The interaction between the crewed and uncrewed fleets creates deeply cultural operational friction.
For example, how does a human-crewed frigate work with a robotic partner? A USV communicates via datalink.
Integrating a silent participant into a vocal bridge team requires a change in bridge resource management.
The Officer of the Watch cannot shout at the USV to “come right” in an emergency; they must interface with a console or relay a request to a remote operator.
This introduces latency and removes the human nuance of tone and urgency.
In the high-pressure environment of combat, this silence could be disconcerting and lead to coordination breakdown.

The First Sea Lord, General Sir Gwyn Jenkins, has been vocal about the necessity of this transition, framing it not as an option but as an existential requirement.
This has been compared to the “Dreadnought moment”,a paradigm shift in which the old rules of naval warfare are rewritten overnight.
Speaking at DSEI 2025, General Jenkins emphasised that the RN must embrace a future that is “uncrewed wherever possible; crewed only where necessary.” This statement is a radical departure from centuries of doctrine, where the crew was the defining feature of the ship.

Jenkins has also acknowledged the cultural weight of this transition and the role that leaders will play.
His comments highlight a recognition at the highest levels that the barrier is not just technological.
However, as history shows, the ‘Old Navy’ often resists the ‘New Navy’ with fierce institutional inertia.
The challenge for the First Sea Lord is to ensure that his vision of a hybrid fleet does not crash against the rocks of traditionalism in the wardrooms and messes of the fleet.
Conclusion

The RN is right to invest in uncrewed systems.
The benefits in numbers, endurance, and risk reduction are clear and essential for a mid-sized navy with global responsibilities.
But technical problems like datalinks and sensors will probably be solved faster than the cultural challenges.

Integrating these vessels requires a new doctrine that is honest about the limitations of autonomy and clear about human responsibilities.
It requires a personnel strategy that values the remote operator as much as the seagoing officer and sailor.
Most importantly, it requires a cultural shift that views the USV not as a threat to naval tradition but as the only way to preserve the Navy’s relevance in the 21st century.

If a navy doesn’t update its culture along with its technology, it could end up with advanced ships that commanders are too hesitant or conflicted to use them.
The RN has made significant changes before, such as moving from sail to steam and from coal to nuclear power.
Shifting from manned to hybrid ships will require a similar mindset shift.