Inside America's only giant gun barrel factory arming Ukraine
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Business Insider
12-07-2025
- Business Insider
This tech CEO quit to redesign the 155mm shell — and upend how the West buys its weapons
Tiberius Aerospace unveiled Sceptre, a 155mm artillery shell with an extended range. The startup's open-platform model licenses the design to governments for local production. It's an approach that challenges traditional defense procurement, aiming at agility and innovation. A few weeks ago, a new defense tech startup stepped out of the shadows with a bold claim: it had built a radically advanced 155mm artillery shell called Sceptre. The ammo quickly grabbed attention for its promised combination of unprecedented range and precision. But its creator, tech entrepreneur Chad Steelberg, believes the real innovation isn't necessarily what Sceptre does — it's how it's made and sold. Speaking to Business Insider, Steelberg described Sceptre as an open weapons platform: licensed to governments, built locally, and updated like software. This frees up Tiberius Aerospace — his startup — to focus on R&D rather than managing huge manufacturing contracts. It's a model born not in a defense industry boardroom, but in the logic of Silicon Valley and the battlefields of Ukraine — one built for speed, iteration, and scale. The proposal is a radical step away from the highly centralized, slow-moving defense industrial base and contracting and acquisition processes that the Pentagon and other Western countries are wedded to, and it's sparked a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. A founder with a mission In late 2024, sickened by the Russian onslaught in Ukraine, Steelberg made a decision. He stepped down as CEO of the AI firm he had cofounded, Veritone, and handed the keys to his No.2. "I gave them four months' notice" before founding Tiberius Aerospace, he told BI. He knew nothing about aerospace back then, he said. But he knew people who did, bringing in a Navy SEAL commander, a former Apple hardware lead, and a top engineer from Raytheon. "You get the best people in the world," Steelberg said. "You put 'em in a room, lock the box, and say: let's solve this problem." That led to Sceptre, a rocket-propelled 155mm artillery shell that Steelberg says can hit targets up to 95 miles away— nearly triple the range of standard rounds — with precision, even in GPS-denied environments. The munition itself has undergone test firing on a M777 in the US. Given its differences from standard rounds (those without rocket assist) — which have a range of about 15 miles and require add-ons for rocket propulsion and precision guidance — it's a category-defying munition more comparable to an extended-range GMLRS. But, like the original 155mm round, it's fired from a howitzer. In artillery battles, range is critical; after all, that's part of the reason the HIMARS, a rocket artillery system, was so effective when it initially arrived in Ukraine: it gave Kyiv's forces much-needed reach in combat. Steelberg says it will "change the balance of power" on the Ukrainian battlefield and beyond, though it would need to be widely fielded first. Supplanting old-school procurement Tiberius won't actually be manufacturing Sceptre, offering an unusual "defense-as-a-service" model. The company plans to license the design to governments, which will pay $5 million upfront to gain manufacturing rights, and then $2.5 million a year to stay on board and get continual updates. They can then produce the munition in-country, using their own supply chains and industrial base. What makes this possible is Tiberius opening up its specifications for individual components — like batteries, guidance units, and fuel systems — to outside suppliers. Steelberg said suppliers will be encouraged to propose improvements, as long as the component fits within Sceptre's volumetric space. "We will certify it, test it, fire it on the range, qualify it as a version if it passes safety and efficacy," he said. This creates competition and choice for the governments buying it, he argued. It's a model inspired by the early days of Intel, leaning on an open architecture, Steelberg said. While major companies like Boeing regularly bring in subcontractors to provide parts, Tiberius' platform is built around encouraging an ongoing ecosystem around this logic — almost like an app store for defence tech, with Sceptre at its core. He suggested this would give governments the freedom to choose small, nimble manufacturers, support their own defense ecosystems, and reduce reliance on a handful of major contractors. Governments place an order — keeping the intellectual property — for the version of Sceptre they end up making. The bulk of Sceptre's main parts can be manufactured on simple, widely available CNC machines. This, Steelberg argues, cuts out the need for much of the heavy-duty facilities typically involved in munitions production and opens it up to much smaller players. "So now they're actually allocating dollars to support not just the end weapon they're looking for, but actually the industries and the providers that manufactured it," he said. The result, in his view, is a system that's more agile, more resilient, and better suited to modern warfare, where needs change faster than traditional procurement can keep up with. A global procurement quagmire As NATO countries scramble to rebuild their arsenals, the limits of the traditional procurement system are becoming harder to ignore. "In terms of ammunition, Russia produces in three months what the whole of NATO produces in a year," NATO secretary-general, Mark Rutte, warned recently. Autocratic regimes like Russia's can command industry at will. Democracies can't — and procurement systems built for peacetime tend to move at a glacial pace. In broad-brush terms: a government commissions a giant contractor, a timeline and price are agreed, and five, ten, twenty years later, a product rolls off the line. That model shuts out smaller players almost entirely. "The big, big problem honestly is that there's been a co-evolution of ministries of defense and big prime manufacturers," Steelberg said, describing it as "an intellectual and contractual moat that prevents anyone else from getting in." It's known as the "valley of death," where few new players can easily navigate Pentagon bureaucracy, or can bank on being around long enough to secure a contract. DOD is experimenting with newer and nimbler models — such as open platforms and schemes to partner with smaller companies — but nothing quite to the scale that Tiberius envisions. Paul Hough, a UK-based expert in defense procurement, shares Steelberg's calls for a shake-up of the system. "Before we start pushing tsunamis of money through the old procurement model and the old industrial base structure, we should stop, take a breath," he told BI. The yawning gap between promising prototypes from small companies and actual military adoption is further complicated by the fact that innovation increasingly comes from the private sector. In the 1960s, governments funded around 60% of global R&D, according to Casey Purley, director of the Pentagon's Army Applications Laboratory. Today, she says it's about 20%, with commercial firms — often tech companies — picking up the slack. "From AI to robotics, we need to work with companies we historically haven't," she told a recent conference in London. Quality control Cynthia Cook, director of the Defense-Industrial Initiatives Group at the Center for Strategic and International Studies, said that Steelberg's model "does have the potential for production where some parts are made by primarily commercial suppliers. "This could be a way of engaging the full industrial base beyond the more narrow slice of companies that are understood to be defense contractors," she told BI. Capt. Bradley Martin, a RAND researcher who specializes in supply chain security, added that "much of the barrier-to-entry problem is solved because a company is only providing a small part of a larger system." But other issues deserve scrutiny, they said. Although Tiberius plans to take charge of certifying components, quality assurance could prove cumbersome, Martin said. Another major issue will be tracking the provenance of materials used by the companies supplying components, he added. "If a company's normal supply chain is heavily China-based, we would be creating a vulnerability," he told BI. Surge production vs just-in-time The US's standard-issue 155mm shells are manufactured by government-owned facilities, so production can lay dormant but be surged relatively easily. That's not really the case for non-standard shells. If companies in the US are not dedicated to producing parts for Sceptre and move out of the business due to a lack of contracts, they'll "need to be attracted back — and they may have other business," Cook said. Hough said that Sceptre may be cheaper and faster to produce in small batches, but he argued that it misses the broader context. Artillery is still primarily an area-effect weapon, he said. The heavy weapons are indirect fire capabilities used for wide destruction and suppression, so while there is a place for the exquisite, precision-guided munitions, unless doctrine changes, precision rounds "are unlikely to supplant area (dumb) rounds," he said. Hough said that, after Ukraine, militaries are prioritizing large stockpiles over just-in-time flexibility — a trend that doesn't appear to align with Tiberius' more agile model. He added that some stages of shell production, including when explosives are inserted into the casing, are also "not a trivial exercise" and favor longer, centralized production runs. For Hough, Tiberius' licensing model may be best used by the military in the same field from which Steelberg took his inspiration — software. "I hope that the Tiberius model works," he said. "But at this point it appears to be a novel potential addition rather than a fundamental change to the established supply chain." Whatever happens, though, he added, "we do need people that challenge this." For Steelberg, his mission is one inspired by Winston Churchill's famous "blood, toil, tears and sweat" speech. But for him, enough blood and tears have been spilled already. "I absolutely am willing to give you my toil and my sweat," he said. But if the West doesn't resolve its procurement issues, "we will be spilling our blood and our tears."
Business Insider
16-06-2025
- Business Insider
Inside America's only giant gun barrel factory arming Ukraine
The US has shipped hundreds of howitzers to Ukraine, like the M777. But just one factory makes barrels for them, and it's more than 200 years old.
The Guardian
16-06-2025
- The Guardian
Violence is coming to define American political life
America reached its apex of self-parody shortly after 7pm on 14 June 2025. In that moment, the background band at Donald Trump's military parade segued from Jump by Van Halen to Fortunate Son by Creedence Clearwater Revival, just after the announcer explained that M777 howitzers are made out of titanium. Nobody, apparently, had considered the lyrics: 'Some folks are born, made to wave the flag, they're red, white and blue, and when the band plays Hail to the Chief, they point the cannon at you.' If this was some kind of surreptitious protest by the musicians, I salute them, but given the time and the place, sheer obliviousness is a better explanation. The crowd, pretty thin, did their best imitation of a cheer. The US clearly does not know how to do an authoritarian military parade. To be fair, they are just getting started. Authoritarian military parades are supposed to project invincible strength. They are supposed to make your own people impressed with the inhuman discipline of your troops, and to strike fear into your enemies at the capacity of your organization. In Trump's parade, the soldiers resembled children forced to participate in a half-assed school play, trying to figure out how to avoid embarrassment as far as possible, and the military itself looked better suited to running a Kid Rock tour than a country's defence. But do not confuse Trump's debased parade with a joke or an innocent piece of entertainment. The Trump parade took place in the immediate aftermath of the assassination of Melissa Hortman, a Minnesota state representative. While it was under way, security forces were firing teargas on protesters in Los Angeles. Violence is coming to define American political life – spectacular violence including the parade and real violence like the assassination of Hortman. Political destabilization is arriving far too quickly to be perceived in its entirety. So much is happening so fast that it's impossible to keep track of the decline. Increasingly, the question is becoming: when are we going to start calling this what it is? When I published my book The Next Civil War in 2022, the US was very far from the threshold of what the experts at the Peace Research Institute Oslo defined as civil war, which is 1,000 combatant deaths a year. They defined civil conflict as a 1,000 combatant deaths a year, so the US already fit comfortably in that category. But the definitions of war and conflict never applied perfectly to the American reality, because it is so much bigger and so much more geographically diverse than other countries. As we start to see violence overtaking American political life, the transition is more like a sunset than a light switch. Every day violence becomes more and more settled as the means of US politics. The parade, and the 'No Kings' counter-protests, were both distractions from the fact that American political life is moving away from discourse altogether. Don't like what the senators of the other party are saying? Handcuff them. Don't like protestors? Send in the marines. Don't like the makeup of the House of Representatives in Minnesota? Kill the top Democrat. The political purpose of the parade, from Trump's point of view, was to demonstrate his mastery of the means of violence. He needed to show, to the military and to the American people both, that he can make the army do what he tells it, and established traditions and the rule of law will not alter his will. But the primary effect of the parade was to demonstrate an immense weakness, in Trump and in the American people. It was a parade reminiscent of the most vacuous regimes in history. In 1977, Jean-Bédel Bokassa, the leader of the Central African Republic, declared himself emperor and indulged in a coronation that imitated the coronation of Napoleon I in immaculate detail. He even went so far as to use eight white Norman horses to pull the carriage, but the French horses were not used to the climate and several died. Trump's parade felt like a lazier version of that. The spectre of defeat hovered over the entire celebration of supposed strength. The last time the US military threw a parade was 1991, which was the last time they triumphed over an opponent, the last time their war machine produced the results they had been attempting. The US has not won a war since then. But hey, if you can't win a war, at least you can throw a parade. Except they couldn't even throw a parade! The end of the show was almost too perfect. A frail Lee Greenwood, a country singer long past his 'best before' date, sang God Bless America raggedly, lousily. 'Our flag still stands for freedom,' he sang. 'They can't take that away.' O can't they? Trump at the center fidgeted like a rich kid bored with his servants and toys. The whole business was like watching some sordid fairy tale: the unloved boy who everybody hated grew up to force the American people to throw him a birthday party and give him a flag. And then almost nobody came. What's true of men is also true of countries: the more they need to show off how strong they are, the weaker they are. The weakness, rather than the strength, is terrifying. Whoever is so scared and so needy as to need that parade is capable of anything. That goes for Trump, and that goes for his country. Stephen Marche is the author of The Next Civil War
