On October 15, a Vietnamese state-owned tanker, the PVT Azura, departed St. Petersburg with 109,000 barrels of Russian diesel. It is due at Norfolk on November 2, at a facility that the shipping journal gCaptain reports serves the American military, a detail no official has confirmed. It will be the first Russian diesel to reach an American port since 2023. On October 23, Russia's deputy prime minister said three tankers were at sea, that supply contracts were being finalized, and that volumes would rise to 1 million tons in December and could reach 3 million a month. A week earlier, the United States had waived, by executive order, the duties Congress had required to punish Russia's energy customers. Within a week, the waiver became a contract.

Azura's cargo is about 40 minutes of American diesel demand; 3 million tons a month would be a fifth of it, and roughly four times what Russia exported in the third quarter. To deliver that, Russia must repair the refineries Ukraine has spent a year destroying, which Rosneft now says it cannot afford. The contract's first effect is to give Washington an interest in Russian refineries running, even as Ukraine's president says the interceptors it has already paid for "are still not coming."

Diesel is one of four things the arsenal took this autumn from parties it does not control. The second is magnets: China exported 6,165 tons in September, its largest month this year, and they are the magnets in the motors of the drones the new Autonomous Warfare Command is to buy by the hundreds of thousands; Beijing's pause on its licensing rules lapses on November 10, with no notice published. The third is a room: the President said on October 19 that he would meet Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping in China next month, after the Wall Street Journal reported that Putin had proposed a three-way meeting in Shenzhen to settle the war in Ukraine, without Ukraine. The fourth is money: on October 21, the Treasury sold 20-year bonds at a record 5.469 percent with foreign demand well below its average, and the 10-year fell below 5 percent the next day only because investors fled artificial-intelligence debt for the government's.

The one adversary with nothing to sell was squeezed: a third carrier group was ordered toward Iran on October 21, and Brent settled Friday at $116.72, its highest since April, which raised the price of everything the arsenal buys from the adversaries that do sell.

A sanction is the instrument of the party that sells. This autumn, the United States is the party that needs, and each supplier holds a date on which it can change the terms: October 31, when Russia's own fuel-export ban lapses; November 10 for Beijing's licenses; early November for the Treasury's refunding; November 18 for the summit. In economic warfare, the buyer takes the terms.

I write this from the Cipher Brief's Threat Conference at Sea Island, where General Bryan Fenton and I addressed the question of what the Department of War has to do with economic warfare. The week answered it before we spoke: the Department is now, by available reports, a customer of one adversary's refineries, a buyer of another's magnets, the holder of an ally's interceptors, and the owner of the carriers that set the price of oil. No office weighed those instruments against one another; the suppliers did.

For nine weeks in these pages, I have written about what the United States cannot do, from the army it cannot command to the day it cannot choose, and each piece ended at the same place: a decision no one was assigned to make. The diagnosis is complete, and the series turns here from what we cannot do to what we must. The place to start is the Autonomous Warfare Command: its plan is due on October 30, and it will be the government's largest buyer of the parts this piece is about.

Three things must be in that plan, and none of them is money.

First, the authority to decide. The Secretary's memorandum settles who buys. It has not settled who decides: one command-and-control architecture across every Service and domain, including space; who allocates among theaters when two ask for the same drones on the same day; who overrides at tempo; and whether the answer binds the Services. Congress granted those authorities to Special Operations Command in 1986, with its own budget line and acquisition power. The plan should name the same for this command, and add the paragraph Congress left out in 1986: command and control.

Second, the edge. Ukraine computes on the aircraft; we compute in Virginia and wait, and the Pacific cannot fight on a round trip. The plan must put the computing on the platform and the communications on a layer the force controls, so that no one else sets its speed.

Third, supply before the ban. The command's motors turn on Chinese magnets until American plants deliver, and the Pentagon's own ban takes effect on January 1. A Defense Production Act priority rating and a drawdown from the National Defense Stockpile, issued before November 10, stock what we need before we forbid what we depend on. The same plan is the demand signal industry has asked for: an architecture and a date.

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On the morning of October 23, the cargo ship Khoryv sent a distress call 13 nautical miles off Constanța, Romania. Territorial waters end at twelve. Whoever flew the drone that sank her knew where the line was, and chose to stand one mile outside it.

That mile is the story. It is the difference between an attack on a NATO member and an incident in a NATO member's exclusive economic zone. It is the difference between Article 5 and a press release. The London insurance market understood this before most capitals did. When the Joint War Committee extended its Black Sea listed area on September 16, it covered the entire sea except the territorial waters of Bulgaria, Georgia, Romania and Turkey. The underwriters drew the same line the drone operators did. Nobody should find that comforting.

This is what gray zone conflict looks like. Freighters burning off the coasts of two NATO allies, sailors lost in cold water, and attacks clustered around the Sulina Channel, which became the main outlet for Ukrainian grain after Russia hammered Ukraine's own ports. It is war at a time and place of the attacker's choosing, priced just below the point where anyone is obliged to do anything about it.

"The problem is that we cannot prove it"

Bulgaria's prime minister, Rumen Radev, is nobody's idea of a Russia hawk. He told his parliament the logic of the attacks points to Moscow, and then said the quiet part out loud: "The problem is that we cannot prove it."

NATO's response has been built to solve Radev's problem. After the North Atlantic Council met on October 20, the Alliance announced it would send maritime patrol aircraft, radar, drones, intelligence personnel and forensic teams to examine the explosives. A U.S. Navy P-8 Poseidon is already flying the Black Sea. These are sensible deployments. They are also answers to the wrong question.

Play the scenario out. Grant NATO perfect attribution. The forensic teams recover a guidance board with Russian markings. The P-8 tracks a launch back to a known site. The Alliance announces, with high confidence, that the Russian Federation sank the ship. Now make it worse: the next drone hits a tanker alongside the pier at Constanța, the fire spreads, and thousands of civilians are dead.

The Kremlin denies it. Within the hour, Russian state media points at Kyiv, and it doesn't have to work hard to sell the story. Ukraine has been running its own maritime drone campaign since July, so the Black Sea is full of Ukrainian drones, and everyone knows it. A few Western commentators find the denial "plausible enough to warrant caution." Allies invoke Article 4 and consult. Statements are issued. Sanctions, already near their ceiling, are tightened at the margins. Then nothing happens, because every capital in the room is doing the same arithmetic: Russia has nuclear weapons, the Black Sea is not worth a war, and the dead are already dead.

You don't have to imagine that sequence. We ran it on July 17, 2014, when a Buk missile destroyed Malaysia Airlines Flight 17 over eastern Ukraine and killed everyone aboard. A Dutch-led investigation established in 2016 that the launcher had been delivered from Russia, and by 2018 that it came from a Russian army unit. The ICAO Council found Russia responsible in May 2025. The European Court of Human Rights did the same that July. Moscow denied all of it, spent years promoting theories that blamed Ukraine, and in 2022 invaded the country the missile had been fired over. Attribution was as good as attribution gets. The consequence, eleven years later, was an order to enter into good-faith negotiations on reparations.

That is the lesson Moscow took from MH17, and it is the one we refuse to learn. Deniability is not a shield for the attacker. It is a gift to the defender who would rather not act. Russia doesn't need us to believe its denials. It only needs us to want to.

Operational freedom is the target

The point of these strikes isn't the ships. It's the water around them. Every hull that burns off Sulina raises the premium on the next one, pushes a charterer toward a different route, and teaches a shipowner that a NATO coastline offers no protection. The attacker never has to declare a blockade. The market imposes it for him. Freedom of action shrinks by increments, each too small to justify a response, until the defender wakes up to find that the sea he was sure he controlled has a new landlord.

This is how Russia and China will impose costs on the West for the foreseeable future. Not with the decisive battle our doctrine, our budgets, and our military exercises are built around, but with a steady accumulation of incidents chosen for their deniability, timed to our distractions, and calibrated to our fear of escalation. Salami slicing is not a new idea; Beijing has practiced it in the South China Sea for more than a decade. What's new is the drone, which makes the slicing cheap, precise and anonymous.

The honest complication

The Black Sea gray zone is not one-sided, and pretending otherwise hands Moscow its talking points. Ukraine's Operation Molochka, launched in July, claims to have disabled 300 Russian-linked vessels in the Black and Azov Seas. Turkey's foreign minister says both sides are mounting heavy attacks to establish superiority before winter.

The distinction holds. Ukraine is striking the logistics of the country that invaded it, mostly sanctioned tankers serving Russian ports and occupied Crimea. Russia is striking grain ships in the economic zones of two NATO members that are not party to the war, with the apparent aim of making Ukraine's last reliable export route uninsurable. One is a belligerent waging war at sea. The other is exporting that war to the Alliance's doorstep and daring it to notice.

Taiwan won't look like Hellscape

If you want to know what a Taiwan conflict will look like, watch the Black Sea.

In 2024, Adm. Samuel Paparo said he wanted to "turn the Taiwan Strait into an unmanned hellscape" to defeat what he described as Beijing's likely plan: a massive attack with little warning. It's a sound concept, and the CNAS work that fleshed it out this year is serious. Hellscape is built to break an amphibious assault at the water's edge.

Beijing is rehearsing something else. The PLA's Justice Mission 2025 drills in December, run alongside the China Coast Guard, simulated a blockade of Taiwan's main ports and control of the waterways that carry its energy imports. This year the China Coast Guard and Maritime Safety Administration have run what the Jamestown Foundation calls a "quasi-quarantine" east of the island, creating the appearance of administrative control without declaring a blockade. Taiwan has already prosecuted a Chinese captain for severing an undersea cable. Each step is a law enforcement action, an inspection, an accident. None of them is an invasion.

A drone swarm waiting in the Strait for a landing force has nothing to shoot at when the adversary is a coast guard cutter boarding a container ship for a "safety inspection." The first Taiwanese or American drone to fire makes Taipei the aggressor. So Beijing won't cross the Strait. It will tighten the noose: a quarantine, a severed cable, an insurance listing, a shipping line that quietly decides Kaohsiung isn't worth the premium. It will bank on the world's risk aversion. It’s already working. After the May summit in Beijing, Washington paused a record $14 billion arms package for Taiwan, and the President described those sales as a "very good negotiating chip". Taiwan will not be conquered. It will be persuaded, one closed option at a time, that there is nothing left to defend.

Answering below the threshold

You cannot deter gray zone coercion with a capability designed for the war the adversary is careful never to start. The answer has to live in the same band the attacker does: below the threshold of general war, above the threshold of pain. Three steps would help in the Black Sea, and each has a Pacific twin.

Presence that denies, not presence that watches. Turkey, Romania and Bulgaria already run a Mine Countermeasures Task Group whose mandate was widened in July to cover undersea infrastructure. Montreux restricts warships of non-Black Sea states, not the littoral navies. Widen the mandate once more, to counter-drone escort of merchant traffic through allied economic zones, and buy the equipment from the Ukrainians who have kept their own grain corridor open under fire. In the Pacific, the equivalent is a convoy and escort plan for a quarantine, not only a kill chain for an invasion.

Decide the response before the incident. The moment of decision is where risk aversion wins, because it is always easier to wait for one more forensic report. Allies should agree in advance, and say publicly, what a verified strike on shipping in their waters will cost Moscow: a pre-approved tranche of capability released to Ukraine, a pre-agreed number of shadow fleet hulls detained. Attribution should trigger an equivalent consequence, not another discussion. Taipei and Washington need the same menu for a quarantine, written now, while no one is under pressure.

Take the market off the adversary's side. When insurers and charterers do the attacker's work, governments need a sovereign war-risk backstop for vessels trading to allied ports, so the next listed-area extension doesn't function as a blockade by spreadsheet. Taiwan will need that backstop on the first day of a quarantine, not the ninetieth.

None of this is escalation. It is the minimum required to make the gray zone cost something.

The Thirteenth Mile

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The Cipher Brief is committed to publishing a range of perspectives on national security issues submitted by deeply experienced national security professionals. Opinions expressed are those of the author and do not represent the views or opinions of The Cipher Brief.

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Economic statecraft has become a primary instrument of US national security, deployed with a frequency and ambition that outpaces the intelligence architecture built to support it. For sanctions, tariffs, investment screening, export controls, and development finance to succeed, the United States must fully leverage the data and intelligence available to it. Now is the time for the IC to organize itself around the discipline of economic and financial intelligence.

The IC has long struggled to prove its value to economic customers: the Secretaries of Treasury, Commerce, Defense, and State, as well as the US Trade Representative and financial regulators. One frequent explanation is the IC’s historic orientation toward military and diplomatic support. Another is the perception that classified economic analysis lacks distinctive value. I spent most of a twenty-three-year intelligence career inside the economic discipline, ultimately leading Treasury’s Office of Intelligence and Analysis (OIA). While this may once have been true, the IC is doing better than ever to meet growing demand.

The problem is no longer the quality of the analysis—which has matured immensely—but the IC’s decentralized approach to serving its economic customers. No IC agency is specifically responsible for the discipline of economic and financial intelligence. The closest is OIA.

Congress created OIA in statute in 2004 with an eye toward sanctions support and countering terrorism finance. Its role has since expanded across economic, financial, and cyber issues for customers across government and industry. However, OIA is not the designated IC lead for US economic statecraft—no IC agency is. One consequence is that the Office of the Director of National Intelligence (ODNI) remains the statutory lead for analytic support to the Treasury-led Committee on Foreign Investment in the United States (CFIUS). That made sense in 2007, when the Foreign Investment and National Security Act codified CFIUS and assigned the Director of National Intelligence that role. At the time, OIA was in its infancy and consumed by counterterrorism. That is no longer the case.

The instinct in Washington is to solve a challenge like this by first creating a new organization, then fixing the functions. Congress should start with the functions instead, then address where the discipline sits. To improve IC support to economic statecraft, Congress must first act on six fronts.

Designate a functional manager. One IC element must own economic and financial intelligence as a discipline: collection priorities, analytic standards, a hiring and training pipeline, and a framework for systematic engagement with allies and industry. Nothing about that role requires a new agency.

Clarify authorities. Explicitly authorize collaboration between the designated lead and both its government customers and the private sector, including exchange of expertise and data.

Supercharge private sector engagement. Many of the best national security solutions in economics and finance will come from industry. Create a permanent path for its ideas, expertise, and capabilities.

Work with what exists. Use OIA as the foundation and keep the number of IC agencies flat, but cap its size so it stays nimble as economic statecraft evolves.

Revisit ODNI’s CFIUS role. IC support to CFIUS sits with ODNI because in 2007 no one else could carry it. Whether it should move depends on where the discipline lands, but Congress should not view the 2007 answer as permanent.

Fund it as a national mission. Economic intelligence should not have to compete for a share of a domestic department’s topline. Give the discipline a dedicated budget line, with the investment in people and AI that exploiting economic data at scale requires.

That leaves where the discipline sits—and there are three answers, not one.

The easiest first step is a designation: name OIA the functional manager, leave it in Treasury, and make clear in statute and to policy customers that OIA is the center of gravity for economic and financial intelligence. That is available now and beats the status quo. Nevertheless, an IC office answering to the Secretary of the Treasury will always be seen—correctly—as Treasury’s first. This is why Commerce and others periodically press for shops of their own, an outcome that grows the IC rather than optimizing it.

The achievable reform is bureau status. Treasury did this with FinCEN in 2002, and FinCEN is now treated as a government-wide and international resource rather than Treasury’s alone. Done properly it means a separate appropriation, a director accountable to both the Secretary and the DNI, and a statutory mission naming service to the whole government, the private sector, and our allies.

The stretch option is to elevate OIA to become an independent National Geo-Economic Intelligence Agency—still my own preference, because only independence settles the question of whose intelligence office it is. But where the discipline sits is the last decision, not the first. Under any of the three, the proximity OIA has built with Treasury policymakers is a design problem with a known solution: dedicated, co-located teams at each major customer department.

Economic intelligence is a core national security capability and should be organized and resourced like one: purpose-built to track, anticipate, and disrupt adversary financial and commercial threats in real time. The playbook has changed. Our competitors are more agile, emboldened, and shaping markets and supply chains to their advantage while we debate whether the threat qualifies as strategic.

All statements of fact, opinion, or analysis expressed are those of the author and do not reflect the official positions or views of the U.S. Government. Nothing in the contents should be construed as asserting or implying U.S. Government authentication of information or endorsement of the author's views.

The Cipher Brief is committed to publishing a range of perspectives on national security issues submitted by deeply experienced national security professionals. Opinions expressed are those of the author and do not represent the views or opinions of The Cipher Brief.

Have a perspective to share based on your experience in the national security field? Send it to Editor@thecipherbrief.com for publication consideration.

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Over the last century, modern medicine achieved a historic feat. We increased the human lifespan by 33%. But at the same time, we completely failed to defend our brain healthspan. Today, a silent gap of 15 to 30 years exists between the time our bodies survive and the time our brains remain vibrant, innovative, and fully functional. It is a terrifying paradox. Medical science has advanced so much that a newborn today can realistically expect to live to 100, if not 120 years old. Yet, we passively accept that their cognitive engine will begin an irreversible, downhill slide in their thirties with the likelihood of dementia reaching almost 100% by the age of 110. What good is an extra three decades of biological existence if our brains lack the strength and resilience to enjoy it? This is no longer just a localized healthcare crisis; it is an imminent national security threat to our competitive edge.

Look at where our national focus and funding are directed. America is focused on investing billions of dollars into artificial intelligence and hypersonic defense systems. However, we are systematically ignoring the ultimate computing engine that builds the technology, commands our military, drives our economy, and stabilizes our communities: the human brain.

Our global competitors are not making this mistake. Most notably, China understands that future geopolitical dominance will not be won simply by hoarding raw technology. It will be won by the cognitive longevity, relentless innovation, and emotional resilience of their population. They are playing the long game and investing in their brain economy; We are falling behind.

In the military, we use a concept called staying "left of boom." It means executing proactive, aggressive conditioning and preventative strategies to stop a catastrophe before it happens, rather than digging through the wreckage after an explosion.

Right now, America’s approach to brain health is reactive. Our public policy treats brain aging as an inevitable, downhill slide into deficit. We pour billions of dollars into solving brain health collapse, like dementia and visible cognitive breakdown, before we actively intervene. But that approach is a losing strategy. We must shift from a reactive, disease-focused model to a proactive era of precision brain health in order to finally maximize American brainpower. If we do not actively optimize our collective intelligence and mental endurance, we will fall behind not only in defense readiness but also in scientific advancement and workforce productivity.

Fortunately, building a sharper, more resilient nation has never been easier or more measurable.

A landmark, three-year longitudinal study of 4,000 adults recently published in Nature Portfolio’s Scientific Reports completely dismantles the myth of inevitable cognitive decline. The data proves that the human brain possesses a no-ceiling capability. From ages 19 to 94, the brain retains a profound capacity to continually rewire, adapt, and improve its performance over time.

The key to unlocking this potential is a newly validated, multidimensional metric called the BrainHealth Index. For the first time, we can treat the brain exactly like physical fitness. We don't guess if our hearts are healthy; we measure blood pressure. The BrainHealth Index finally gives us a credible benchmark to track and measure holistic brain improvement across three critical pillars:

• Clarity: Our raw capacity to solve complex, novel problems and drive deep technological innovation.
• Connectedness: Our capacity for social purpose and communication, which serves as the bedrock for stable families and strong communities.
• Emotional Balance: The mental resilience required to perform under extreme pressure, from corporate boardrooms to tactical defense environments.

When we actively invest in and train our cognitive micro-skills, the positive implications ripple across society. Every day, citizens become better in their personal relationships, more productive at their jobs, and significantly more resilient against modern burnout and life stressors. Scaled nationally, this collective mental fitness becomes the invisible armor required for our national defense and technological endurance.

As a neurologist, a retired U.S. Army Colonel, and the former founding director of DARPA’s Biological Technologies Office, I have spent my entire career protecting and restoring the brains of our service members. I know what the human mind is capable of achieving when it is pushed to optimize, rather than just manage decline.

Our federal agencies, including the Department of Health and Human Services, the NIH, and the Department of Veterans Affairs, must immediately work to adopt scalable, digital health initiatives that democratize these brain optimization tools nationwide. But executive action is only half the battle. Congress must step up and introduce a unified, bipartisan National Brain Capital Act. Just as lawmakers realized we could not secure our future without a CHIPS and Science Act to defend our artificial intelligence hardware, they must recognize that we cannot protect our nation without a legislative framework to maximize our human brainpower. We must empower every single citizen with the self-agency to improve their own cognitive capacity. It is time for Congress to stop treating brain performance as a passive medical luxury for the few. It is a national imperative to keep America leading the world.

The Cipher Brief is committed to publishing a range of perspectives on national security issues submitted by deeply experienced national security professionals. Opinions expressed are those of the author and do not represent the views or opinions of The Cipher Brief.

Have a perspective to share based on your experience in the national security field? Send it to Editor@thecipherbrief.com for publication consideration.

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A7’s OpenAI prompt was six words long: "Translate [name] to [language]. Answer only translated text."

Developer code leaked in 2025 from A7—the Kremlin-linked payment network designated by Treasury on October 1 as “a significant transnational criminal organization”—shows A7 used this prompt with OpenAI's API to create fake invoices, fake stamps, and a complex ledger that made Russian procurement look like ordinary trade.

Our investigative work, as featured originally in the “Big Shor” investigation and in subsequently featured in the New York Times and Financial Times, reveals that between January 2025 and June 2026, A7 laundered over $80 billion through the international financial system and continues to do so today. Zach was the principal researcher and Dawson peer reviewed the report and mentored the research team.

The common story is that sanctions cut Russia off from SWIFT and dollar clearing. In reality, Russia never left the Western financial system; A7 is how it re-entered at state scale. It still needs dollars and euros to buy components, sell oil, and pay intermediaries; China’s CIPS, yuan, crypto, and barter cannot replace them.

How the scheme works

A7 acts for Promsvyazbank, the state bank serving Russia's defense sector. A7 has laundered over $80 billion through roughly 435 financial institutions in at least 83 countries, funding Russia’s war in Ukraine, intelligence operations, election interference, and trade. Its clients have included Iranian oil sellers, which is why Treasury rolled the designation into Operation Economic Outcast.

A7’s shell companies, often run from Russia over VPNs, open accounts at local banks in Bishkek or Dubai’s free trade zones. Those banks rely on larger regional banks, which clear dollars through correspondents in New York or Hong Kong. Each sees only the customer in front of it. Card programs issued under sponsor banks give front companies and Russians access to payment rails without a direct banking relationship.

Fundamental to the scheme were fake invoices, produced at scale using OpenAI’s ChatGPT. A7 also used ChatGPT to forge stamps and automate intake of SWIFT payment confirmations from scanned receipts. Because A7 broke the operation into steps that each looked legitimate, OpenAI’s screening was unlikely to flag it—a gap AI companies must close.

This is where the burden falls on banks, and where the anti-money laundering (AML) framework fails. It was built to catch criminals hiding proceeds, not a state-backed service with intelligence-grade tradecraft. A7’s disposable shell companies are replaced faster than any sanctions list can be updated. To Western correspondent banks, its flows look like normal bilateral trade.

Banks can catch A7 only by tracking behavior over time: new free-zone trading companies moving outsized volumes, product descriptions that do not match the counterparty, and payment routes with no commercial logic. However, banks can only go so far on their own.

The deeper problem is permissive jurisdictions—UAE free zones, Hong Kong, Kyrgyzstan, and Türkiye—that offer fast incorporation, light ownership checks, and access to dollars and euros. Intermediating Russian trade is profitable, and many of these governments frame it as “neutrality” rather than evasion. In Kyrgyzstan, A7 relied on relationships reaching the highest levels of government and the banking sector.

The Macro Threat: Sanctions, SWIFT, and China

As former U.S. Treasury and intelligence officials, we see A7 as a sobering reminder that the first wave of financial sanctions on Russia fell short. The international banking system remains the indispensable engine of Russia’s war effort.

This exposes a broader geopolitical failure: adversary coordination. Russia, Iran, the DPRK, and China increasingly share intermediaries and methods to exploit Western finance rather than build their own. Yet the allied response remains fragmented, targeting networks like A7 one at a time.

This forces hard choices about dollar access. Washington could strip correspondent access from the Chinese and regional banks moving billions for U.S. adversaries. That might disrupt A7, but it raises the question of whether weaponizing dollar access compels compliance or accelerates Beijing and Moscow's push for a closed-loop financial system.

Changing the Equation: Government Actions

Allied governments must close systemic loopholes. Diplomacy with third countries has largely run its course; the leverage now lies in their banks’ access to Western finance. Tools like FinCEN’s Section 311 can force regional banks to choose between servicing networks like A7 and keeping their Western correspondent accounts. Regulators must treat nested correspondent relationships (banks clearing payments for other banks’ customers) and sponsored credit card programs (cards issued by smaller banks and fintechs under a bank’s license) as direct compliance liabilities.

Exams that test only static list-screening teach banks to build to that baseline. Exams should require network analysis, and governments should help scale these costly tools for vulnerable institutions in developing countries. This must be paired with mandatory information sharing: secure channels for client exit data and real-time international exchange of typologies.

Finally, authorities must treat AI and cloud infrastructure with the same scrutiny as traditional finance. Finalizing know-your-customer rules for cloud providers and requiring AI companies to flag behavioral anomalies would deny illicit actors the cheap infrastructure they need to scale.

A7 still moves billions every month. A week after Treasury acted, A7 announced a stablecoin USDT-SWIFT product; the timing was not a coincidence. Even if A7 is degraded, its model is highly portable, and Iran and North Korea are watching. The question for Washington, London, and Brussels is whether they can help industry disrupt these networks through a compliance culture that prioritizes real impact over list-based box-checking.

The Cipher Brief is committed to publishing a range of perspectives on national security issues submitted by deeply experienced national security professionals. Opinions expressed are those of the author and do not represent the views or opinions of The Cipher Brief.

Have a perspective to share based on your experience in the national security field? Send it to Editor@thecipherbrief.com for publication consideration.

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The United States is racing to field AI and autonomous systems. It is not racing to figure out how to fight with them. This imbalance between technology and concepts is widening a gap the U.S. is ill prepared to close. Ukraine has shown us why this gap is a threat: every new capability breeds a countermeasure, and technological advantage now spoils in months. The answer is not just faster innovation. It is making concept development a continuous military function, one that ties new technology to experimentation, validation, and adoption at the speed the fight demands. Not just a function of schoolhouses and Headquarters.

Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine began in 2022 as a war of armored columns and maneuver. Today, trenches and minefields stretch for hundreds of miles, reminiscent of World War I; while drones, unmanned ground vehicles, precision munitions, and persistent surveillance hunt anything that moves.

The United States has poured considerable energy into buying and fielding new technologies faster, and has shown how we are endeavoring to learn from Ukraine. But the U.S. has put far less energy into the institutional processes we need to determine how we fight as technology and adversary behavior changes. This creates a consequential gap between what we build and how we fight.

This growing gap has two parts. The first is substance: technology and concepts need each other. A concept that ignores new technology will overlook new operational possibilities, while a new technology without a concept is a demonstration… not a warfighting capability.

The second is tempo: technology moves in weeks and months, while the processes that decide how formations should use it operate in years. Our fastest-ever concept cycle, from counterinsurgency doctrine to the Iraq Surge, took eighteen months. Most move slower still: gradual, methodical, and caked in decades of calcified bureaucracy.

The problem isn’t just that doctrine changes more slowly than technology. Units in combat adapt fast. The greater challenge is translating those adaptations into concepts that can be tested, refined, integrated into combined-arms operations, and adopted across the force.

That doesn’t mean rewriting concepts every time a new drone appears. It means recognizing when a change in technology (or in the enemy) breaks assumptions behind how we fight, then testing and spreading the fix before it goes stale.

Concept development must become a continuous military function, not a periodic publication. The winner won’t be the side that buys technology fastest, but the side that turns it into battlefield advantage before the enemy adapts. Today, the U.S. is not built to do that quickly.

Ukraine: Adaptation as Necessity

Ukraine illustrates the increasingly reciprocal nature of battlefield adaptation. To date, every advantage has invited an answer. Both sides have changed their technology and tactics again and again in response to each other, and neither has held an edge for long.

Consider the first-person-view (FPV) drone. Cheap, attritable, and easy to build, FPVs turned every squad into a precision strike force. Electronic jamming became its counterpoint. Fiber-optic drones, immune to jamming, then entered the field. Each move created new openings and new limits, and forced changes in both the technology and how it was used.

The operational consequences extend well beyond FPV drones. Persistent surveillance paired with cheap precision strike has changed where and how formations can move, mass, resupply, and survive. Concealment, dispersion, and deception matter more than ever. A unit that concentrates in a location, moves in the open, or runs a predictable supply route becomes a target.

This is the more consequential lesson from Ukraine: a technological innovation may initially improve the effectiveness of a particular weapon or unit, but its broader significance emerges when it changes the conditions under which formations operate. Then the enemy adapts, and the cycle starts again. And again.

In Ukraine, technological advantage is perishable. The hard part isn’t fielding new capabilities. It’s recognizing when they, or the enemy’s countermeasures, demand a different way of fighting.

The American Challenge: From Innovation to Institutional Learning

For the United States, Ukraine demonstrates why concept development cannot remain an episodic activity conducted in schoolhouses and periodically revisited. The lesson is not that Ukrainian solutions are universally applicable. It’s that new technology and countermeasures can break operational assumptions faster than our institutions are built to respond.

The United States cannot just replicate Ukraine’s approach. U.S. forces fight expeditionary campaigns, integrate across joint and coalition formations, and answer to policy, legal, and safety requirements that a nation like Ukraine, fighting for its survival and territorial integrity, does not. The goal is Ukraine’s capacity to adapt, built to American requirements.

Our gap isn’t a shortage of experiments or innovation offices; efforts like the Army’s “Transformation in Contact” are putting new capabilities into units and learning from them. Our gap is having a pathway from what one unit learns, to what the whole force learns. A concept that works in one brigade may fail against a different enemy, in different terrain, or at a higher echelon. And a successful experiment rarely changes training, force design, or acquisition on its own.

Autonomy has raised the stakes and made our pathway to institutional learning an even greater necessity. A software update, a retrained model, or a new way of employing a system can change how technology behaves, and can quietly invalidate the conditions under which it was tested and fielded.

That is the problem assured autonomy is meant to solve. Assured autonomy is justified confidence that an autonomous system will do what it is supposed to do. It must therefore account for the whole relationship: the technology, how it is employed, and the environment it operates in. Continuous, evidence-based assessments can tell commanders when a change requires fresh evaluation and where the boundaries of responsible use lie. Built into the adaptation process, assurance can support speed without abandoning safety, reliability, accountability, or established approval authorities.

Building an Adaptive Concept-Development Enterprise

The United States needs a repeatable process that links new technology, operational concepts, experimentation against a thinking enemy, validation, and adoption across the force.

We are suggesting neither a prototype nor a concept paper. It’s a validated, revisable concept of employment, backed by operational evidence: how a formation can fight differently, under what conditions that works, and what it takes to make it happen. Four functions are needed to get us there:

First, connect concept and technology development directly to operational formations.

Operators, technologists, testers, and concept developers should work alongside commanders. Their job goes beyond improving systems or inventing tactics: they should identify which operational assumptions a new capability breaks, and draft concepts to test.

Not every improvement demands a new concept. A better jammer may only need a new tactic; a capability that changes how a brigade moves, masses, or resupplies demands a new way of fighting. The force needs people close enough to the fight to tell the difference.

In Ukraine, operational units have designated innovation officers liaising directly with industry; industry partners provide prototypes, receive feedback on battlefield experimentation and adaptation. Through this relationship, operators, technologists, and testers converge on a specific requirement, and battalion-level Commanders have the authority to acquire the necessary prototypes to integrate into their formations.

Second, establish a persistent cycle of adversarial operational experimentation.

The question isn’t whether the technology works as designed. It’s whether the formation using it accomplishes the mission better against an opponent who adapts. Experiments should also find where a concept fails: what works against one threat may fail against another, and a promising system may impose unacceptable costs elsewhere in the formation.

Combat training centers, experimentation units, and operational formations already provide the foundation. The task is to link them into a persistent learning loop, fed by operational evidence and intelligence.

Ukraine offers a cautionary tale. For nearly three years, intelligence indicated Russia was developing jet-powered Shahed variants, by most accounts ample time to prepare countermeasures. But when Russia began launching these faster one-way attack systems, Ukraine had too few interceptors capable of that speed, and their previous interception tactics were insufficient to stop them. The warning did not sufficiently feed a cycle of experimentation before the threat was fielded. That gap cost lives.

Third, connect operational validation to adaptive fielding.

Today, a system is typically tested, approved, and fielded as a finished product. But in a fight like Ukraine’s, nothing stays finished: software is updated, models are retrained, and units find new ways to employ what they have. Each change can quietly invalidate the evidence behind the original fielding decision. Adaptive fielding treats validation as continuous, asking what has changed and whether the earlier evidence still holds.

For autonomous systems, this is where assured autonomy matters most, and where scrutiny should match the modification. A minor software patch for a drone flying the same mission in the same conditions may need only a quick check. Retraining its targeting model, sending it into a new environment, or reducing human supervision demands full re-evaluation. This doesn’t bypass approval authorities or testing requirements. It gives them a faster, evidence-based way to decide when more evaluation is needed.

Fourth, institutionalize validated concepts across the force.

This is the decisive step. Experimentation produces evidence; learning happens only when that evidence changes how the force trains, organizes, equips, and fights.

A counter-drone tactic proven in one division should appear in the next combat training center rotation, the next force design update, and the next acquisition…not in an after-action report on a shelf.

This change requires a defined pathway and clear authorities. Commanders, testers, capability developers, and acquisition officials each own different decisions, but those decisions must draw on a common body of operational evidence, with clear decision points for when the evidence is strong enough to act. The result is a continuous cycle: develop, experiment, validate, field, learn, institutionalize, adapt. Then repeat, as the technology and the enemy change.

In Ukraine, Aerorozvidka, a non-governmental organization, plays this role: not a think tank but an empowered change agent -- capturing evidence from the field and shepherding it through commanders, technologists, and acquisition officials until new tech is deployed or new concepts (like deep strike) are fielded.

Operational Advantage Depends on the Capacity to Learn

The United States possesses substantial technological, industrial, and innovative capacity to compete in AI and autonomous warfare. But technological leadership alone will not produce operational advantage. Adapting a system isn’t the same as adapting a force, and a better-performing unit doesn’t change the course of a campaign.

Four questions will dictate our capacity to learn: The technical question is what a system can do. The tactical question is how formations should employ it. The operational question is how it changes the way maneuver, fires, intelligence, protection, sustainment, and command combine to win. The strategic question is whether the institution can answer all three, again and again, faster than the enemy.

The race isn’t to build the best autonomous systems or to field them first. It’s to turn technological change into operational advantage, faster than the enemy can take it away. In the age of AI and autonomy, the force that learns fastest wins.

The Cipher Brief is committed to publishing a range of perspectives on national security issues submitted by deeply experienced national security professionals. Opinions expressed are those of the author and do not represent the views or opinions of The Cipher Brief.

Have a perspective to share based on your experience in the national security field? Send it to Editor@thecipherbrief.com for publication consideration.

Read more expert-driven national security insights, perspective and analysis in The Cipher Brief

Every October, Cybersecurity Awareness Month puts practical security measures in the spotlight. Can an employee recognize a phishing email? Will someone pause before clicking a suspicious link? Are passwords and access credentials being protected? These are important questions; individual behaviors are crucial to maintaining cybersecurity.

But awareness is so laser focused on preventing and mitigating the malicious cyberattack, it’s easy to lose sight of the bigger picture: the cyberattack in front of you may be only one piece of the threat.

In the era of hybrid threats, a cyberattack could be part of a broader campaign in which digital activity intersects with cognitive warfare, sabotage, unusual drone activity, disruptions to communications and navigation systems, and much more. State and state-linked networks might use online fraud or scams to generate revenue for operations, launder funds and undermine confidence in financial and/or government institutions.

The challenge for security and law enforcement agencies transcends detecting and responding to one cyber incident at a time. They must also determine whether events that appear separate may be connected.

That distinction changes what it means to be aware, and the urgency is intensifying. Recent research and reporting shows Russian cyber activity directed at European targets is likely intended to enable intelligence collection, operational reach and long-term access rather than immediate disruption. In parallel, the Iranian government is believed to be relying on a longstanding hybrid warfare model combining cyber operations, asymmetric military operations, information warfare, proxy attacks and coercive state activity, with AI increasingly acting as a force multiplier.

Expect to see more of this going forward, not less.

CONNECTING THE DOTS

Consider the signals individually: a government agency experiences a cyberattack. Unusual drone activity is reported over critical infrastructure. GPS service is disrupted. False or misleading information is deliberately spread. Viewed on their own, these events may have different causes, and each can appear to be a separate incident.

Yet hybrid campaigns often depend on individual activities initially looking ambiguous or unrelated. If each signal is treated only as a self-contained incident, relevant connections may be missed – and when the connections are missed, so is the broader pattern they could form.

This does not make traditional cybersecurity awareness less important. It makes awareness more demanding. The familiar focus on individual judgment must be matched by institutional awareness: the ability of government agencies, armed forces, critical infrastructure operators, and other relevant organizations to recognize which signals may matter beyond the immediate event.

That begins before advanced analysis enters the picture. An organization cannot share information it did not capture, and it cannot capture information it did not recognize as potentially relevant. The first requirement is therefore a common understanding of what may be security-relevant and what information is needed to contribute to a broader situational picture.

This shift is central to the awareness challenge. A suspicious link has a clear place in the traditional conversation. A weak signal in a hybrid environment may not have the same clarity. Its significance may emerge only when it is considered alongside other information. Awareness, in this context, means looking beyond the apparent boundaries of a single incident without assuming that any one event tells the entire story.

The sequence matters: recognize, capture, share, assess. If a potentially relevant signal drops out at any stage, it cannot inform the larger picture. If it moves through that sequence, it becomes one piece of information that can be examined in relation to others.

The next task is to bring those fragmented pieces together. Threat intelligence, decision intelligence and artificial intelligence can help teams work across large volumes of data, correlate information, reveal connections, and alert analysts to anomalies. Their value is especially clear when no single signal is decisive. Several weak and seemingly unrelated signals may form a pattern that supports a more informed assessment of the security situation.

The point is not simply to accumulate more data. It is to make relevant information usable as part of a coherent view. A list of isolated incidents still leaves decision-makers looking at fragments. A situational picture asks a different set of questions: What may connect these events? What does the combined pattern suggest? Which developments deserve closer attention? And what might happen next?

That last question is essential. The goal is not limited to identifying a cyberattack or another security-relevant event after it occurs. It is to understand the relationships among relevant signals well enough to identify potential future developments at an early stage. Detection remains necessary, but detection without connection can leave the larger threat out of view.

For Cybersecurity Awareness Month, this broader perspective offers a useful way to expand the conversation. At the individual level, awareness still means recognizing the suspicious email, protecting credentials, avoiding scams and frauds and thinking before clicking. At the national level, it also means making sure the right organizations know what to notice, what to record, what to share, and how to place that information in context.

The difference is one of scale. An individual may be watching for a malicious link. Government agencies, armed forces, critical infrastructure operators, and other relevant organizations must also be watching for relationships among cyber activity, disinformation, sabotage, drone activity and communications interference.

That is the blind spot Cybersecurity Awareness Month should help bring into focus. There’s more to awareness than paying attention before clicking a link. Awareness means we know which signals deserve attention, whether we can bring them together, and whether we can see the threat they may form before the pattern becomes unmistakable.

The Cipher Brief is committed to publishing a range of perspectives on national security issues submitted by deeply experienced national security professionals. Opinions expressed are those of the author and do not represent the views or opinions of The Cipher Brief.

Have a perspective to share based on your experience in the national security field? Send it to Editor@thecipherbrief.com for publication consideration.

Read more expert-driven national security insights, perspective and analysis in The Cipher Brief