The Essential National Security Economics of the U.S. Navy - Part 1
South Korea’s Shipbuilding Might
If you want to understand modern naval power, you cannot skip over South Korea. What that country has built on its southeastern coast is staggering. The city of Ulsan is home to Hyundai Heavy Industries, the largest shipyard on Earth, and right next to it sits Hyundai Mipo Dockyard. Together, they form an industrial footprint so large that you could lose an entire American city inside it.
Let’s put some American measurements on the table. Ulsan’s main yard sprawls across nearly 1,600 acres of waterfront. That is about 2.5 square miles of dry docks, assembly halls, cranes, piers, and fitting-out basins. Compare that to a typical American football stadium, which takes up about 13 acres. Hyundai’s yard alone is the equivalent of more than 120 football stadiums laid side by side. And this is not counting the additional footprint of Hyundai Mipo just down the shoreline.
What comes out of those yards is just as impressive as the size. In commercial terms, they can produce up to 10 million gross tons of shipping a year. That is not a typo. Ten million. In plain English, that means dozens of supertankers, container ships, LNG carriers, and yes, naval combatants if the order book calls for them. They have the flexibility to switch production lines from a commercial ship one year to a naval frigate the next. That kind of dual-use capacity gives South Korea enormous strategic flexibility.
Now, South Korea does not focus exclusively on warships the way America’s Newport News does, but it does produce highly capable naval vessels. Frigates, destroyers, submarines — even amphibious assault ships — roll off the same lines that once produced the biggest commercial ships on Earth. The reason they can do this is that the government has backed the industry with research and development investment, and the shipyards themselves have consolidated. Hyundai Heavy Industries and Hyundai Mipo are in the process of merging, which will further concentrate expertise and capacity under one roof.
There is also geography to consider. Ulsan has room to grow. The yards are spread along a wide stretch of coastline with industrial access to rail, road, and raw materials. Unlike America’s Newport News, which is boxed in by a river and a city grid, Ulsan can add new dry docks, extend its piers, and build new fabrication halls as demand requires. That means their growth curve can keep bending upward.
The scale, the throughput, and the flexibility all point to the same conclusion: South Korea, though not a superpower in the way China aspires to be, has built an industrial base that dwarfs anything in the United States outside of one or two specialized yards. They may not build nuclear-powered carriers or submarines, but in terms of acreage, tonnage, and speed, Ulsan makes most U.S. facilities look small.
This is important because South Korea’s industry feeds not only its own navy but also the global market. They can export frigates to Southeast Asia, submarines to Europe, and commercial shipping worldwide. Their shipyards never sit idle, and that constant churn keeps their workforce trained, their supply chains warm, and their balance sheets healthy. By contrast, many American yards sit underused between Navy contracts, waiting for the next program to be funded.
So, when we talk about naval shipbuilding capacity, South Korea represents a different model: enormous industrial acreage, dual-use flexibility, government support, and room to expand. It is not the crown jewel of nuclear carriers like Newport News, but it is the steel-on-steel production powerhouse that proves what can be done when a nation treats shipbuilding as a strategic industry.
If you want to understand modern naval power, you cannot skip over South Korea. What that country has built on its southeastern coast is staggering. The city of Ulsan is home to Hyundai Heavy Industries, the largest shipyard on Earth, and right next to it sits Hyundai Mipo Dockyard. Together, they form an industrial footprint so large that you could lose an entire American city inside it.
Let’s put some American measurements on the table. Ulsan’s main yard sprawls across nearly 1,600 acres of waterfront. That is about 2.5 square miles of dry docks, assembly halls, cranes, piers, and fitting-out basins. Compare that to a typical American football stadium, which takes up about 13 acres. Hyundai’s yard alone is the equivalent of more than 120 football stadiums laid side by side. And this is not counting the additional footprint of Hyundai Mipo just down the shoreline.
What comes out of those yards is just as impressive as the size. In commercial terms, they can produce up to 10 million gross tons of shipping a year. That is not a typo. Ten million. In plain English, that means dozens of supertankers, container ships, LNG carriers, and yes, naval combatants if the order book calls for them. They have the flexibility to switch production lines from a commercial ship one year to a naval frigate the next. That kind of dual-use capacity gives South Korea enormous strategic flexibility.
Now, South Korea does not focus exclusively on warships the way America’s Newport News does, but it does produce highly capable naval vessels. Frigates, destroyers, submarines — even amphibious assault ships — roll off the same lines that once produced the biggest commercial ships on Earth. The reason they can do this is that the government has backed the industry with research and development investment, and the shipyards themselves have consolidated. Hyundai Heavy Industries and Hyundai Mipo are in the process of merging, which will further concentrate expertise and capacity under one roof.
There is also geography to consider. Ulsan has room to grow. The yards are spread along a wide stretch of coastline with industrial access to rail, road, and raw materials. Unlike America’s Newport News, which is boxed in by a river and a city grid, Ulsan can add new dry docks, extend its piers, and build new fabrication halls as demand requires. That means their growth curve can keep bending upward.
The scale, the throughput, and the flexibility all point to the same conclusion: South Korea, though not a superpower in the way China aspires to be, has built an industrial base that dwarfs anything in the United States outside of one or two specialized yards. They may not build nuclear-powered carriers or submarines, but in terms of acreage, tonnage, and speed, Ulsan makes most U.S. facilities look small.
This is important because South Korea’s industry feeds not only its own navy but also the global market. They can export frigates to Southeast Asia, submarines to Europe, and commercial shipping worldwide. Their shipyards never sit idle, and that constant churn keeps their workforce trained, their supply chains warm, and their balance sheets healthy. By contrast, many American yards sit underused between Navy contracts, waiting for the next program to be funded.
So, when we talk about naval shipbuilding capacity, South Korea represents a different model: enormous industrial acreage, dual-use flexibility, government support, and room to expand. It is not the crown jewel of nuclear carriers like Newport News, but it is the steel-on-steel production powerhouse that proves what can be done when a nation treats shipbuilding as a strategic industry.