I am Korean, and part of the reason I ask this comes from my own experience with Korea's shipbuilding industry.

In the earlier development of Korea's naval shipbuilding capability, practical knowledge did not come only from private industry. Navy officers involved in ship construction and people with hands-on repair experience at naval facilities were among those who carried skills and experience into the developing industrial base.

I knew and worked with some of these people.

That experience left me with a question about the U.S. Navy today.

Should a navy simply buy ships, or should it also take responsibility for preserving the industrial capability that makes those ships possible?

A shipyard is more than docks, cranes and capital. Shipbuilding depends on welders, engineers, naval architects, production managers, suppliers, repair workers and accumulated experience. Those capabilities can take decades to develop and can disappear surprisingly quickly.

This is why I have been following the discussion about Korean investment in U.S. shipbuilding.

Korean investment may help. Korean companies can bring capital, technology, production methods and experience. MRO cooperation may also expand.

But I don't think foreign investment by itself answers the deeper question.

If the U.S. Navy expects to need a strong domestic shipbuilding and repair capability twenty or thirty years from now, shouldn't maintaining that capability be considered part of naval readiness today?

I understand that Congress controls appropriations, private companies own the yards, and many industrial policies lie outside the Navy's legal authority. I am not suggesting that the Navy simply take over private shipyards.

I am asking about responsibility.

When skilled workers disappear, suppliers leave the business, construction schedules stretch out and costs keep rising, how far should the Navy's responsibility extend?

Should it remain primarily the customer that specifies, orders and operates ships?

Or should it become a much more active steward of the industrial ecosystem that makes naval power possible?

My experience in Korea left me with one lasting impression: shipbuilding capability ultimately lives in people. Money can buy facilities and equipment, but it cannot instantly recreate decades of accumulated skill and experience.

So I would particularly like to hear from people who know the U.S. Navy or shipbuilding system:

Does the Navy currently have enough responsibility and authority for the health of its shipbuilding industrial base? If not, what should change?

For me, it wasn't a book.

It was the sea.

When I was a middle school student, I watched an old American film called Chubasco.

Today I barely remember the story.

What I remember is the endless horizon, a young fisherman, and the feeling of someone waiting for him on shore.

Years later, I became a naval officer.

One night near Dokdo, I watched lightning explode across the open sea.

Another day I saw a waterspout rise from the ocean.

Standing there, I learned something no book had ever taught me.

The sea makes you feel incredibly small.

But strangely...

It also makes you remember the people you love.

Only then did I finally understand that old movie.

I never expected an old movie to stay with me for sixty years.

Looking back, I finally realized it wasn't the movie that changed my life.

It was the sea waiting for me all along.

For me, it wasn't a book.

It was the sea.

When I was a middle school student, I watched an old American film called Chubasco.

Today I barely remember the story.

What I remember is the endless horizon, a young fisherman, and the feeling of someone waiting for him on shore.

Years later, I became a naval officer.

One night near Dokdo, I watched lightning explode across the open sea.

Another day I saw a waterspout rise from the ocean.

Standing there, I learned something no book had ever taught me.

The sea makes you feel incredibly small.

But strangely...

It also makes you remember the people you love.

Only then did I finally understand that old movie.

I never expected an old movie to stay with me for sixty years.

Looking back, I think it never really left me.

I wrote a longer reflection on that journey in my essay.

Why do some missions inspire people, while others don't?

I've been thinking about something that seems a little odd.

Many talented young people are excited about AI, space exploration, or companies like SpaceX. They're willing to spend years of their lives working toward those goals.

But rebuilding manufacturing or shipbuilding rarely generates the same enthusiasm, even though those industries are essential to a country's long-term strength.

One obvious explanation is that AI and space promise an exciting future, while shipbuilding is usually presented as a response to threats—"we need more ships because of China," for example.

But I wonder if there's something deeper.

Do people commit themselves to industries?

Or do they commit themselves to a larger mission that those industries happen to serve?

Historically, great engineering efforts often seemed connected to a compelling destination rather than simply producing more of something.

What do you think?

What makes a society see one mission as meaningful enough to dedicate a career to, while another is viewed as just another job?

A recent Korean opinion piece argues that South Korea cannot afford to remain outside efforts to stabilize the Strait of Hormuz.

That raises a broader question.

The Strait is often treated as an American security problem. But countries such as South Korea depend on the energy, shipping, and economic order that it supports. If a country depends on that system for its industrial survival, can it reasonably expect someone else to bear all the cost and risk of defending it?

I believe countries that benefit from freedom of navigation also share responsibility for sustaining it. That does not necessarily mean joining a wider war. It could begin with limited missions such as escorting nationally critical energy shipments.

Is this a legitimate responsibility for middle powers such as South Korea, Japan, and European states—or should Hormuz remain primarily a U.S. security burden?

Congress has repeatedly warned that the United States needs to rebuild its shipbuilding workforce and industrial base. At the same time, lawmakers are proposing restrictions on foreign-built warships.

This raises an interesting question.

What if the United States established a U.S.-owned shipyard on long-term leased land in a close allied country with a world-class shipbuilding ecosystem? The facilities, management, security standards, and final products would remain American, while U.S. personnel could gain experience inside a highly productive shipbuilding cluster.

The goal would not be permanent offshore construction, but accelerating workforce development and industrial know-how that could later be expanded inside the United States.

Would such a model strengthen America's long-term shipbuilding capacity, or would the political and security concerns outweigh the benefits?

Related:

• Senate Commerce Hearing on Reviving Commercial and Navy Shipbuilding
• USNI coverage of proposed restrictions on foreign-built warships