China is building more submarines, of more classes, than any other country. It has several brand-new ambitious design readying for series production and is forging ahead in the uncrewed space. But this unique trimaran design appears the strangest of them all.

Somewhere in the Eastern Pacific, a snorkel mast skims the ocean’s surface, the only visible sign of a vessel lurking below. An encrypted signal arrives, carrying target data. The vessel rises, revealing a distinctive trimaran hull unlike that of any other navy’s submarine. This unique configuration provides greater stability on the surface. Moments later, two large hangars built into the central hull slide open, and 16 missile tubes rise into firing position. Nearly 1,500 km (930 miles) away, an enemy carrier battle group lies within range. This is no ordinary submarine; it is a vessel unlike any other in the world.

The above scene illustrates how new submersible warship is expected to operate. Previously described as a Semi-Submersible Arsenal Ship, it has yet to receive an official designation or Western reporting name. The vessel is currently being tested in Huludao on the Bohai Sea. Originally built in the southern city of Guangzhou, it was ferried to the north of China via the port of Dalian earlier this year.

[Satellite image of the submersible trimaran at Dalian in Northern China, 12th May 2026]

It is, for sure, a completely new category of warship. Fresh analysis suggests that it is best thought of as a submersible warship, which is uncrewed, and yet needs to come to the surface to launch its weapons.

16+ Missile Tubes

The new submersible warship built by China likely has 16 strike-length missile tubes occupying much of its central hull. Currently we can be confident that there are at least 8 tubes, but more probably 16-18 in total assuming both hangars are identical. The tubes are arranged in two circular clusters which are stored horizontally in hangars. To launch the missiles the vessel will logically have to surface, the hangar doors opened and the missile tubes elevated into a vertical position.

As is the case with secretive naval projects, vessel has not been reported or named in Chinese media. We do not have a clear official narrative on its role or status. The following observations come from what can be gleaned by open-source intelligence (OSINT), principally commercial satellite imagery.

It is likely that the missile tubes carry anti-ship or land-attack missiles. We can infer that the exact type of missile chosen, and China has many suitable types, is one which is intended for surface rather than submerged launch. This leads to the hypersonic YJ-20 missiles normally associated with the Type-055 cruiser, being a contender.

Unique Hull Form, and likely Uncrewed

The vessel is clearly submersible but, as indicated by its prominent snorkel, is intended to run on diesels even when submerged. Its trimaran hull form, with outrigger hulls towards the stern, appears optimised for surface transit and stability on the surface. This latter factor may be a driver since the missile tubes, when erected, must make the vessel somewhat top heavy.

The outriggers also sport ducted propellers (‘screws’), possibly of a pumpjet type. Logically the vessel will have a set of screws or water jets on the main body for the diesels, and electric screws on the outriggers.

Dr. Rachel Pawling, Principal Consultant at K39 Consulting and lecturer in ship design, has calculated the vessel’s likely internal make-up. She estimates that the ship displaces around 900 tonnes fully submerged.

Dr. Pawling notes that the weapons hangars take up so much volume, that the rest of the internal space must be extremely cramped. So much so, that it appears unlikely that there is space for a crew. Yet the vessel has an open navigation bridge on top of its fin (sail). The obvious explanation is that this is only for a human pilot during entering and exiting ports. Most large uncrewed vessels have some form of bridge like this to simplify port operations.

Concept of Operations

There has always been a blurred line between submersible warships and true submarines. There have been numerous designs designed to fight on the surface which can partly or fully submerge. Indeed until World War Two submarines were mostly surface vessels which could submerge.

Dr. Pawling suggests that the new type is similar to Cold War Soviet cruise missile submarines like the Juliett Class. That was a diesel submarine which had to surface to launch its powerful anti-ship missiles. It could pop-up to attack high-value warships from unexpected directions.

The main differences will be that modern missiles, such as the YJ-20 hypersonic missile, will have much longer ranges and be able to target both land and sea targets. This means that they will be dependent on external targeting. This makes this vessel a transporter and launcher, a small part in a larger distributed network. What is more, the Chinese vessel will carry far more weapons than the 4 SS-N-3 Shaddock carried by the Juliett Class.

This vessel will remain subject to analysis and speculation. China appears in no hurry to explain it to the outside world, and there is much which remains unclear. The ports it has been observed in do not match those associated with either China’s large uncrewed surface vessel (USV) or uncrewed submarine (XLUUV) programs, suggesting that it is distinct from either program.

There are times when history seems to move backward. And there are others when it finds, in the courage of those who still have a whole life ahead of them and in the wisdom of those who have already traveled almost the entire road, the necessary strength to continue moving forward. This is how Brazil arrived at the polls in the second round of the 2026 presidential elections, in this scenario where youth and the elderly came together to write, together, another chapter of Brazilian democracy.

Between the first and second rounds, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva gained 10.3 million new votes. His opponent, Flávio Bolsonaro, added 3.7 million. The difference between these gains, of 6.6 million votes, helps to illustrate an electoral shift that, in this narrative, did not arise solely from campaign strategies, television programs, or social media algorithms. It also stemmed from something deeper: a silent pact between the future and memory.

First came the universities. Then, the streets. Finally, social media, transformed into public squares for a generation that decided to make indignation a form of political participation. The youth were reacting to the possibility of changes to the 1988 Constitution, the same one that, after two decades of military dictatorship, restored to the country the right to dream democratically.

It wasn’t just a contest between candidates. For those students, the opportunities to study, work, research, exist, and build their own destiny were at stake. They defended ProUni (a Brazilian government program focused on scholarships and social programs), the “Pé-de-Meia” (a Brazilian social welfare program), public universities, science, respect for diversity, and the right to live in a society where freedom doesn’t need to be reclaimed every generation.

But the youth realized that, to defend tomorrow, they needed to talk to those who knew yesterday. And they went to their grandparents. In the simple houses of the outskirts, in the apartments of the big cities, in the communities of the interior and on the banks of the Amazonian rivers, children and grandchildren began to make an invitation that seemed small, but carried an immense historical dimension: “Grandma, shall we vote? Grandpa, I’ll take you.” And they went.

There were the elderly with their canes, their wheelchairs, their slow steps, and their hands marked by time. There were those who needed an arm to cross the street, help to climb a sidewalk, someone to read the numbers on the ballot box screen to them. Some arrived on stretchers, others accompanied by respiratory equipment. There were those who needed to be carried in someone’s arms. And there were those who, even walking with difficulty, insisted on walking the last few meters to the polling station on their own two feet. Each journey seemed to contain a small family epic.

The grandson held his grandmother’s hand. The grandmother carried memories that the grandson knew only from books. One offered the strength of their arms; the other, the strength of their memory. And, in that encounter, the past and the future seemed to recognize that they had something precious to protect.

For many of those Brazilians over 70, the word authoritarianism wasn’t an abstraction from history books. It was a memory. They had known a country where censorship silenced newspapers, repression persecuted opponents, and fear permeated family conversations. Some lived through the dictatorship in their youth; others grew up in its shadow. They also carried very concrete concerns. The readjustment of pensions, the preservation of the minimum wage appreciation policy, and the continuation of the Continuous Benefit Payment (BPC) were not simply expressions of an economic debate. They were issues that affected the lunch table, the purchase of medicines, and the possibility of aging with dignity. For those who depend on a minimum wage to survive, a decision made in Brasília can determine what will be in the refrigerator at the end of the month.

The youth, in turn, also had their own urgent needs. They wanted a university with open doors, a scholarship that would allow them to continue studying, a respected science, a country where differences were not a reason for persecution. They wanted to work without giving up their rights, to love without fear, and to grow old without losing hope. And so, for different reasons, but intertwined with common concerns, two generations came together. The younger ones looked to the horizon. The older ones looked in the rearview mirror. Some wanted to reach the future; others did not wish to relive painful experiences of the past. Between these two perspectives, they found democracy.

The memory of the pandemic also loomed large in that election. Brazil had surpassed the mark of 700,000 deaths from Covid-19. For many families, the absence of a chair at the table remained the most painful memory of that period. Criticism of the Jair Bolsonaro government’s handling of the health crisis and events related to the attempted institutional rupture continued to be present in political discussions and in the memories of a society marked by loss. Perhaps that’s why the most powerful image of that imagined election wasn’t on the campaign platforms, nor in the candidates’ speeches, nor even in the crowds that filled the avenues. It was in a seemingly banal scene: a young woman pushing her grandmother’s wheelchair to the entrance of a school transformed into a polling place.

The young woman was in a hurry to live. The older woman, not at all. But both knew why they were there. That Sunday, Brazil seemed to discover that democracy doesn’t belong exclusively to those who are arriving, nor to those who helped build it. It belongs to both. And its continued existence depends on both. In electoral mathematics, votes are counted one by one. In the mathematics of life, however, there are gestures that don’t fit into spreadsheets. An offered arm, a pushed chair, a conversation between generations, an invitation made at the coffee table. Small expressions of affection that, added together, can produce great political events.

In that second-round scenario, Lula’s victory therefore took on a meaning that went beyond the election results. For the characters in this chronicle, it represented the meeting of two generations united in the defense of rights, social protection, and democratic continuity. The young people wanted the opportunity to build a country that did not yet exist. The elderly wanted to preserve the achievements of a country they had helped to transform. And perhaps therein lies the most beautiful image of that journey: while the grandchildren led their grandparents to the urns, the grandparents, with the accumulated experience of so many decades, helped their grandchildren understand the value of the path they still needed to travel. Some offered their arms. Others, their memories.

Some carried dreams. Others, scars. And together, they crossed the school threshold to exercise the simplest and most extraordinary of democratic rights: to choose. Because sometimes, the future needs to hold hands with the past so that both can continue moving forward. And democracy, when it finds this embrace between generations, discovers a way to remain young.

The digital strategy that Federal Deputy André Janones (Green Party) created for President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva’s (Workers’ Party) reelection campaign has inspired various left-wing parties and movements around the world over the past week. Channels similar to “Exército do Lula” have proliferated in countries such as Spain, France, and Argentina. In Brazil, the legacy of the mobilization—which has more than 10 million members on WhatsApp—remains uncertain, as does the possibility that Janones will take on a ministerial role.

In addition to the emergence of these channels, the “General” of the Lula campaign against Flávio Bolsonaro (Liberal Party) was invited by two influential leaders—Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum and Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez—to visit their countries and collaborate with them. The election in Spain will be held on the 29th of this month, and the next election in Mexico is scheduled for June of next year.

In Argentina, the “Ejército del Peronismo” was created, which had 65,000 followers as of Friday. In its first few days of operation, the group has already spearheaded several online protests against the government of Javier Milei, an ally of Flávio.

La France Insoumise, a left-wing party led by Jean-Luc Mélenchon in France, has followed suit and already has more than 100,000 supporters. On the Spanish left, there is more than one group adopting this model.

Eduardo Rubiño, coordinator of the Frente Ampla—which brings together various left-wing movements in Spain—says that Lula’s turnaround drew attention because of his bold use of WhatsApp and the way he “challenged the manipulated algorithms.” One of the ideas Janones conveyed to the “Army,” in fact, was that the president’s supporters needed to understand how to feed—or not feed—the social media algorithms. He advised, for example, against engaging with opponents’ posts, even if it was to offer criticism.

“I believe the most innovative aspect was turning citizens into agents who drive the campaign.” Using WhatsApp not only to convey information, but to mobilize people and propose concrete ways to bring about change,” says Rubiño. “Using humor, internet slang, missions, and calls to action. Coordinating all of this using WhatsApp is something no one had done in a similar way before, and we learned a great deal from it.”

The Broad Front is part of Pedro Sánchez’s administration; Sánchez belongs to the traditional left-wing PSOE party, but the party’s lead candidate in this year’s election is former Barcelona mayor Ada Colau, another figure who has publicly praised Lula by name in recent days. Since the country operates under a parliamentary system, the fact that the left has more than one candidate does not mean that the government will not be composed of both blocs if they manage, together, to form a majority in Parliament.

Sánchez was one of the world leaders who invited Janones to collaborate, and his political group created the channel “La fuerza de la gente” (“The Power of the People”), which had about 50,000 followers as of Friday.

Like Rubiño, Brazilian strategist Nani Blanco, a founding partner of the Nuvem agency, believes that placing the voter at the center was the “Army’s” masterstroke.

— Not only did it spark a mobilization, but it also organized the digital landscape by turning voters into campaign assets who helped spread the information. “An election is a 100-meter dash, so this agility works very well,” she says. “The model is applicable elsewhere, but it’s important to understand the level of WhatsApp usage—which is very widespread in Brazil—in each country.”

Moving forward, Blanco says, Lula needs to capitalize on this mobilization, which doesn’t mean turning the government into a “permanent campaign.”

— It’s no use if Lula 4 doesn’t deliver the change that people want. Despite the reelection, it was a campaign that called for change. The greatest possible legacy of this experience isn’t a government that runs a permanent campaign, but one that communicates with the public in a way that’s more in tune with society,” he points out. “Incumbents have struggled to communicate their achievements.

Lula and Janones met in Brasília on Thursday. The name of the campaign’s “general” began to be floated as a potential minister in the new administration, but upon leaving the meeting with the president, the congressman remained evasive.

—“We’ll figure out where I can contribute most to Lula 4. Personally, I don’t think a ministerial position is where I can help the most, but I’m part of his leadership team,” he said.

After the victory, the Army began to be used for specific causes, in addition to publicizing news about the channel’s own success. One of the missions assigned in recent days involved sharing a post by Lula on Instagram in which the president said that “the money from the bets is returning to the tables of Brazilian families.”

The information was based on a survey by the Brazilian Supermarket Association (Abras), which identified a 6.5% increase in the sector during October of this year compared to the same dates in 2025.

“Look at this—the money that used to go toward funding gambling addiction and enriching influencers is now going back to the people,” Janones wrote to the channel’s more than 10 million subscribers. “EXPLODE IT!!!”

Later, in an audio message similar to those he sent during the campaign—criticizing those who helped the opposing side gain traction—he stated that it feels like he’s “dealing with children”:

— You’ve been giving a platform to the far right all this time, giving a platform to the opposition. That guy (Flávio) is finished; let’s focus on this—on doing good, on highlighting President Lula’s actions. I can’t possibly stay here every day saying the same thing.”