Catastrophic sea level rise possible within our lifetime? Yes, here’s how

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‘Runaway ice loss causing rapid and catastrophic sea level rise is possible within our lifetime,’ according to a joint emergency statement released by more than 300 scientists at the inaugural Australian Antarctic Research Conference in Hobart last month. 

‘The East Antarctic ice sheet alone,’ the scientists stated, ‘holds enough water to raise global sea levels by approximately 50 metres.’ 

This prospect of near-term runaway sea level rise is considerably more serious than sea level projections issued by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), which forecast  an average 40 centimetre rise under the best-case emissions scenario by the end of the century and 70 centimetres under the worst-case scenario—the trajectory on which we are currently tracking.  

The explanation for this discrepancy is acknowledged, though often overlooked, within the depths of IPCC reports: positive feedback loops. These processes are too complex to be fully integrated into current global climate models, which means they aren’t accounted for in sea level rise projections. 

The resulting blind spots could be pivotal.  

As such, the need for climate experts to advise the government on strategic planning and risk management is becoming urgent. This is especially true for our intelligence and national security communities. We cannot make and follow plans that rely solely on model projections. Rather, models must be contextualised by climate experts to ensure that critical feedback loops such as marine ice sheet and ice cliff instability are properly accounted for—and hence that resulting threats are managed. 

Given that about half of all Australians live within seven kilometres of the coast, the impacts of runaway ice loss on Australia’s domestic security would be immense. For context, greater Sydney’s average elevation is 53 metres above sea level; Melbourne’s is 49 metres; Brisbane’s is 45 metres; and Perth’s is 26 metres. 

These cities would become uninhabitable, mostly because of direct inundation, but also due to coastline retreat from storm surges and erosion. The latter cannot be overstated. As one centimetre of sea level rise results in an average coastline retreat of one metre, a 50 metre sea level rise would cause coastlines to retreat by several kilometres. Hence, even the areas of higher elevation within Australia’s most populous cities would be in a serious predicament.  

Without planning and preparation, the security and strategic ramifications of this would be catastrophic. This is even before we account for regional implications, considering that Asia has the largest near-coastal population in the world. 

As the IPCC has stated, rapid and irreversible ice loss due to marine ice sheet instability and marine ice cliff instability could ‘lead to a collapse of … Antarctic Ice Sheet[s]’.  

Note: figures show the two phenomena of ice sheet instability (a) and ice cliff instability (b), not a progression over time. 

Marine ice sheet instability results mostly from the retreat of grounding lines—the points where the ice sheet meets the ocean floor. Over thousands of years, the weight of the Antarctic ice sheet has pressed down on the land beneath it, effectively deforming the earth’s crust and creating a deep basin that slopes into the continent’s interior—a process known as isostatic adjustment.  

Many of the ice sheet’s grounding lines are poised on high points behind which the land drops away in downhill—or ‘retrograde’—slopes. As the ice at these grounding lines is exposed to warmer ocean waters and melts, two crucial things happen. As grounding lines retreat further down these retrograde slopes, the ice sheet’s ocean-exposed surface area becomes larger. Second, because the ice that sits above the newly retreated grounding line is thicker and heavier, more pressure is exerted – accelerating melting as higher pressure lowers the melting point of ice. 

Together, these phenomena can create a positive feedback loop as the volume of ice melting continuously accelerates. 

The second process, marine ice cliff instability, is driven by the disintegration of ice shelves—the floating extensions of the ice sheet that form when land ice flows into the ocean, creating large ice ‘tongues’ that float on the water’s surface. These ice shelves act as a buttress, slowing the flow of the ice sheet into the ocean. When this buttressing mechanism is weakened or removed due to ocean and atmospheric warming, the flow of the ice sheet into the ocean accelerates. 

Furthermore, the retreat of ice shelves continues to expose taller and taller ice cliffs, which are prone to a self-reinforcing cycle of instability. Ice cliffs are vulnerable to structural failure when stress exceeds the strength of the ice. That is, taller cliffs are more likely to collapse under their own weight. And without the protective effect of the ice shelf, the ice sheet also becomes subjected to greater wave energy, accelerating ice loss through increased calving events.  

Because of the complexity of these ice sheet dynamics, these processes are currently unable to be incorporated into global climate models, resulting in projection blind spots and, hence, the above discrepancy between IPCC sea level rise model projections and the dire warnings of climate experts. 

Last month’s warning is consistent with the unexpected collapse of parts of the Antarctic ice sheet, and the accelerated loss of their mass, observed over the last couple of decades—from the sudden collapse of the Larson B ice shelf earlier this century, to the New York City-sized ice shelf that collapsed in 2022. 

This is not to say climate models are not useful. They perform well at projecting average changes in relation to past climate. However, they function poorly at anticipating events that wouldn’t have been possible in a world without climate change. 

The temptation to leave decisions regarding climate preparedness to the ‘impartial’ realm of statistical evidence is flawed and, in fact, dangerous. 

It also demonstrates the propensity to disregard one of strategy’s oldest axioms—the crucial nature of interaction. That is, strategy is not merely the execution of a plan.  

If we want effective strategic planning, we cannot rely on model projections alone. To ensure we are adaptable and flexible in the event of runaway sea level rise, projections need to be continually put into context by climate experts. Otherwise, even our best plans won’t survive contact with reality.  

An overreliance on statistical evidence at the expense of physical knowledge and expertise risks having the world forge ahead none the wiser, while the thresholds of feedback processes such as marine ice sheet and marine ice cliff instability are crossed. The real kicker is that they might have been crossed already. 

Lines on a 1916 map may not keep Syria together

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Hayat Tahrir, al-Sham (HTS) led by Abu Mohammed el-Golani, has just taken Damascus. The officials of the Assad regime, and the administrative authorities are apparently in caretaker mode pending a transition of power. However, the capture of Damascus will be just the beginning to a massive change in the balance of power in the Middle East and perhaps the world.

The question most observers are now asking is: what if any form of stable central government might emerge from this lightning fast upending of the power dynamics in Syria? A possible lesson from history is that insurgent armies of diverse allegiance, religion and ideology are capable of capturing cities, but their ability to administrate them, ensuring supply of essential services and rule of law, less certain. It remains to be seen as to whether HTS can hold together the disparate elements that make up the forces that overthrew the Assad regime.

There are clear losers in the form of Russia and Iran at this stage, but it is not clear what major powers will move to fill the vacuum. Turkey has an obvious interest, but even there lies risk with the involvement of the US backed Kurdish groups in the East. Nature and geopolitics abhor a vacuum, and the fall of the Assad regime will generate a vacuum. Although HTS have apparently managed to transition from freedom fighters to administrators in Aleppo, there is no guarantee that the multitude of groups that make up Syria will accept this group as the legitimate government of Syria in the longer term.

The boundaries of Syria were set following the collapse of the Ottoman Empire, along with Jordan, Trans-Jordan, Lebanon and the British mandate of Palestine. The lines on the map drawn Mark Sykes and Georges Picot in a secret agreement in 1916, known as the Picot-Sykes Agreement, in anticipation of victory over the Turkish Ottoman Empire. It did not remain secret for long with Russia publicly releasing the documents to the protagonists and participants alike, laying bare British and French ambitions for the region.

Like many European borders drawn before and after the First World War, lines on maps did not match the population already present. The agreement initially saw the formation of one or more Arab states, conditional on Arab forces capturing Damascus, Homas, Hama and Aleppo.

A glimpse into the possible future, may be provided by revisiting the past. On 1 October 1918, Damascus was occupied by Sharifian militias, followed by Bedouin, Druze and the city descended into anarchy. Amongst those vying for influence and future control were wealthy Christians, the Hashemites, who would later form the Kingdom of Jordan with British support, and Prince Faisal, who would go on to become Faisal I, King of Iraq until his death in 1933. To further add to the cast was the Hejazi Arab Army of the South led by T E Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia).

Today, at least initially, there appears to be a retention of the instruments of state with public statements by state media of the need for calm and indicating a transition of power. In 1918, there was no continuity in the business of government. Anarchy descended upon the city. Prisoners were released from prisons, there was a period of looting, and Turkish soldiers remaining in the city were massacred. Unlike the current situation, the fall of Damascus was part of a British campaign through Palestine. Peace came to Damascus when General Harry Chauvel and his Desert Mounted Corps entered the city.

Currently, in addition to the withdrawal of Iranian and Russian forces, China is also calling for Chinese nationals to leave immediately. The role of China in Syria is unclear beyond an interest in oil, but as late as September 2023, The New Arab was reporting on Assad in an extended visit to China hosted by Xi Jinping. The question is, which major power will be able to engage and offer support to any transition government?

What else is different from the 1918 fall of Damascus is the existence of the nuclear state of Israel with arguably the most capable military in the region—and perhaps among the most capable in the world. It is an Israel that is both increasingly assertive and likely nervous as to the nature of a future state or states on her northern border of the Golan Heights. The US, perhaps with Israeli intelligence, assassinated Qasem Soleimani of the Islamic Revolutionary Guards corps Quds Force, who had been in charge of Assad’s security. Now with Iranian forces evacuating from Syria, the ability for a national security program across the disparate groups might be unlikely. The absence of a common enemy in the form of the Assad regime, is likely to make any national, coherent program difficult, if not impossible.

The initial signs of an orderly transition of power are positive. But the likelihood is that the disparate forces that banded together to overthrow the Assad regime will struggle to maintain a coherent purpose without the intervention and support of a major power. There is no Allenby British Army on the outskirts of Damascus ready to move in and restore order.

What there is, in the absence of brutal totalitarianism (which may yet emerge), is a lack of coherent purpose. The lines that were drawn on the map a century ago by Sykes and Picot have little meaning for the northern Sunni, the eastern Shia, the Druze to the south or the Alawite on the Mediterranean coast. There simply is no great purpose in a nation called Syria within borders drawn by European diplomats at the fall of the Ottoman Empire. There may yet be a nation called Kurdistan somewhere in the Levant. It is not the fall of Damascus that we should focus on—it is what will happen next, and what Turkey and Israel will do with the troublesome lands between their borders.

Cloud and 5G convergence is a national security imperative

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The convergence of cloud computing and 5G technology is set to revolutionise Australia’s digital landscape, transforming how the nation communicates, operates and defends itself. While this technological leap promises great benefits, it will also bring security challenges that could, left untreated, undermine our national interests. To capitalise on the potential of these innovations while protecting national security, the government must act strategically and decisively.

Cloud computing has already reshaped industries by offering on-demand access to computing resources, enabling faster innovation and improved efficiency across sectors. With the rollout of 5G, this transformation will accelerate.

Next-generation 5G networks promise faster speeds, higher capacity and ultra-low latency, facilitating real-time communication and processing across various applications.

Together, the cloud and 5G will provide the foundation for breakthroughs like the internet of things (IoT), artificial intelligence, and smart infrastructure. These advancements will offer enhanced connectivity, real-time data processing and an ability to analyse massive amounts of data in previously impossible ways. They will transform everything from healthcare and manufacturing to transport and urban planning, improving decision-making and optimising resource use on a national scale.

This digital revolution is not without its risks.

The expanded reliance on cloud infrastructure and 5G networks creates a significantly larger attack surface for cyber adversaries. These technologies are integral to energy, transport and communications services. A successful cyberattack could have devastating consequences, compromising national security, economic stability and public safety.

The complex and interconnected nature of cloud and 5G ecosystems, which involve multiple vendors and international supply chains, makes them vulnerable to exploitation. Weaknesses in these systems could be abused to disrupt services or access sensitive data.

Additionally, as Australian organisations increasingly move their data to the cloud, concerns about data sovereignty and privacy arise. Securing sensitive information from foreign surveillance and ensuring that Australia’s data remains under its control is crucial in an era of geopolitical competition in cyberspace.

China’s growing dominance in cloud and 5G technologies presents a particular threat. As China expands its influence in global technology markets, it can embed vulnerabilities or backdoors into critical infrastructure. Given the Chinese government’s track record of exploiting technology for strategic advantage, Australia must carefully scrutinise any technology from Chinese companies. This digital influence could give China leverage over global supply chains, leading to espionage, intellectual property theft and the disruption of critical services.

To counter this growing digital influence, Australia must diversify its technological partnerships, reduce its reliance on Chinese-made technologies and work closely with like-minded nations, particularly its Five Eyes allies.

The Australian government must adopt a proactive, whole-of-government approach to address these national security challenges.

First, it must develop and implement a comprehensive cybersecurity strategy addressing the challenges that cloud and 5G technologies pose. This strategy should focus on securing critical infrastructure, protecting supply chains and ensuring data sovereignty. The government should also develop and enhance its cybersecurity capabilities, ensuring that the country can respond to emerging cyber threats quickly and effectively. This includes strengthening threat intelligence, vulnerability assessments and incident response capabilities.

Collaboration will be crucial in managing these risks. The Australian government should foster closer collaboration between industry, academia and international partners. As part of its ongoing work within the Five Eyes intelligence-sharing alliance, Australia should continue to engage in joint initiatives to strengthen cybersecurity frameworks, share threat intelligence and develop common standards for securing cloud infrastructure and 5G networks. These partnerships will ensure that Australia is not alone in confronting cyber threats.

The private sector also plays a central role in securing critical infrastructure. Public-private partnerships should be encouraged in order to enhance cybersecurity resilience across industries, ensuring that businesses can handle the evolving cyber threat landscape.

In addition to promoting international and industry collaboration, the Australian government must strengthen its domestic technological capabilities. This includes investing in Australian-owned cloud services and 5G solutions not subject to foreign influence or control. By diversifying its technological partnerships and building homegrown capabilities, Australia can reduce its exposure to foreign vulnerabilities, particularly from China, and ensure a more secure and independent digital infrastructure.

Finally, public awareness and education on cybersecurity should be a priority. The government must ensure that all sectors of society, from government agencies to private businesses and individuals, understand the risks associated with cloud and 5G technologies and are equipped to protect themselves. National cybersecurity awareness campaigns and training programmes should be expanded to ensure that the Australian public, both as consumers and as part of the workforce, are equipped with the knowledge to recognise and mitigate cyber risks.

The convergence of cloud and 5G technologies offers Australia an unprecedented opportunity to enhance its national security and technological capabilities. However, it also introduces risks that require immediate and sustained attention. By adopting a proactive and comprehensive approach to cybersecurity, strengthening international partnerships and investing in domestic capabilities, Australia can secure the benefits of this digital revolution while safeguarding its sovereignty and national security.

The time for action is now—Australia cannot afford to wait as these technologies reshape the future of global competition and security

Australian Army chief diagnoses three key challenges to the army profession

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In the 19 months since the Defence Strategic Review, the Australian Army has prioritised the development of littoral warfighting concepts, positioned the division as the main unit of action in its command and control arrangements, and adopted a capability-first approach to training and tactics. Yet, it still faces important historical, cultural and institutional challenges that constrain its ability to adapt.

In a speech at the Australian National University National Security College on 25 November, Chief of Army Lieutenant General Simon Stuart provided an update on how the army was confronting these challenges and transforming for an era of uncertainty.

Stuart framed issues of jurisdiction, expertise and self-regulation as core challenges to the modern army profession. This problem set indicates a welcome return of discussions around traditional notions of war and peace.

Professional jurisdiction defines the space within which the military’s unique expert knowledge is applied. The diffusion of the role and responsibilities of armed forces as the military element of national power influences the social contract between a state, its military and the public.

While service members will continue to assume ‘unlimited liability’ to willingly sacrifice themselves in defence of the nation, the degree of ‘limited liability’ extended to soldiers taking life in the nation’s interest is in constant flux. This is because of the growth of irregular state forces, the proliferation of off-the-shelf lethal technologies, the employment of military contractors and the recognition of the cyber and space domains of warfare have diminished the monopoly on the ethical application of violence that armed forces have traditionally held.

Given that an army cannot self-select its jurisdiction, Stuart advocates for increased good-faith collaboration between the Australian government, the wider public and the military to promote healthy civil-military relations. This directs the army to evolve its image beyond that of a First World War paradigm and to embrace civic virtues and service in ways that generate solutions for military recruitment and retention. For example, it may undertake community outreach to increase awareness about what the army does and how service contributes to nation-building and belonging.

The army’s capacity to apply expertise in land warfare to deter potential adversaries and protect Australia’s interests depends on its training and education systems. These systems, according to Stuart, must be enough to ‘win the battle of adaptation in the face of a major war in our region’. If not, the army may struggle to bring in new equipment, tactics and doctrine in a timely manner or be intellectually ready to adapt in war.

Army leadership is looking to address its professional development opportunities. At present, personnel progressing through the army’s command and leadership pathways are awarded merit based on ‘attendance and participation rather than grading’. Not only is this insufficient to meet the future testing requirements of modern large-scale operations; it’s also unlikely to instil in every soldier the belief that they’re an exemplar of the army profession. To bridge this gap, Stuart flagged the possibility of the army adopting an education and training system that incorporates annual assessment.

For Stuart, the final and most pressing challenge is the army’s ability to self-regulate in order to uphold professional standards on battlefields. This ability is essential to maintaining public trust and ensuring that army personnel act in accordance with ethical principles. Accordingly, Stuart sees a more robust system of oversight and command accountability as part of the solution to prevent misconduct and maintain public confidence once deployed.

The recorded instances of unlawful conduct in Afghanistan involving Australian special forces—which were systematic, deliberate and occurred through multiple generations of forces—show how the army must improve its capacity to self-regulate. Stuart’s own reflections on how to prepare for land warfare focused on command accountability and culture.

Command is a component of unlimited liability: it requires the army to explicitly articulate a commander’s responsibilities and then provide commanders with the resources needed to achieve success. This is the only way that future commanders can fully accept the burden of command and accountability for the outcomes of their decisions. Culture is fundamental to command accountability as it helps ensure that soldiers are physically, mentally and morally resilient in combat. Together, these concepts work to save the lives and humanity of Australian soldiers.

Solving the challenges associated with jurisdiction, expertise and self-regulation will take a concerted effort. The scale of the task can’t be overstated, particularly at a time when the army is progressing a major equipment recapitalisation program and falling short of set workforce targets.

Success in this will support the army’s broader initiatives to build authenticity, credibility and transparency in the ADF and with partner forces in the region. While much remains to be done, the Chief of Army’s speech has enhanced discussions around the cultivation of the army profession—this is a good start.

Trump-proofing the Quad

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The Quad was revived in Donald Trump’s first term as president, but that does not guarantee he will pay much attention to it during his second. Non-US Quad members will need to demonstrate its ongoing value, make its purpose clear and find a strong advocate to make this case.

Back in 2017 the resurrection of the Quad was one of the strongest signals that, after almost a year of uncertainty in Asia policy, the first Trump administration had committed to strategic competition with China. Its revival was met with almost audible sighs of relief in Canberra, New Delhi and Tokyo, where fear of abandonment had gripped policy elites since the election. Australia, Japan and India had all been rattled by the new president’s open hostility to alliances and by talk that he might cut a grand bargain with Xi Jinping over their heads. The Quad’s revival showed that the Trump administration was more committed to regional security and prosperity and more convinced of the value of working with long-standing partners than the president’s rhetoric had sometimes suggested.

Since then the Quad has evolved beyond a vehicle for reassuring friends, signalling resolve, sharing assessments of China’s capabilities and intentions and discussing ways to work together more closely and effectively. It now has a broad agenda, ranging from artificial intelligence to space situational awareness, and year-round interaction, from leaders’ summits to ambassadorial meetings.

Yet none of this—neither the history nor the activity nor the level of trust and comfort felt by officials involved in these processes—ensures the Quad will survive or prosper during the second Trump administration. The president-elect is not known for sentimentality, so the revival of the Quad that he saw on his watch is unlikely to sway his view of its value. Trump is likely to ask how much the minilateral costs the United States and what it delivers, not in terms of public goods provided to others but tangible gains for American interests.

Canberra, New Delhi and Tokyo may be able to work with Trump’s national security team to find at least some answers to these questions, as they did during his first term. As secretary of state during much of that time, Mike Pompeo emerged as a strong champion of the Quad, facilitating the upgrades to regular foreign ministers’ meetings and then leaders’ summits. In theory at least, any one of the China hawks whom Trump has nominated for high positions—Marco Rubio for secretary of state, Peter Hegseth as secretary of defense and Mike Waltz as national security advisor—could play a similar role, if the Senate approves their appointments.

The problem, however, is that the Quad lacks a robust advocate outside the US. In 2017 prime minister Shinzo Abe quickly established himself as an adept Trump whisperer, proposed the reconvening of the grouping and rallied regional allies and partners to the cause. Today, it is not clear whether Anthony Albanese, Narendra Modi or Shigeru Ishiba are willing and able to do the job.

Of the three, Albanese is the least likely, given the looming election. The Indian prime minister is better positioned, given an established relationship with Trump and a relatively successful track record of playing to his whims. Modi is also due to host the next Quad summit in India, sometime in 2025. But Japan’s newly elected leader might be the best candidate for the role.

Ishiba has long spoken with clarity on regional security—and clarity is one thing the Quad needs. Politicians and bureaucrats from all four members will tell anyone who asks, entirely sincerely, that the grouping has achieved much in the last seven years. But even they still struggle to express what it aims to do and why it operates as it does. The sprawling and ever-expanding agenda does not help. Nor does a certain evasiveness in talking about China, due partly to deference to sensitivities of Southeast Asian elites, and reluctance to even talk about quadrilateral defence cooperation.

This timid approach is unlikely to find much sympathy in the Trump White House. If the Quad is to survive and continue the good work it is doing on maritime security, critical technologies, cyber and connectivity, it will need a harder edge and a clearer purpose. The region does not need the Asian NATO that Ishiba has mooted, but there is good work the Quad could and should do to deter Chinese and indeed Russian adventurism in the Indo-Pacific. Front and centre should be defence industrial and technological cooperation; enhanced interoperability; capacity-building for regional navies and air forces, not just coastguards; improved logistics and rights of access; and greater intelligence- and data-sharing.

This agenda will not succeed, however, if it makes greater demands on US leadership and resources. Others need to step up, and fast.

Anticipating Trump’s foreign policy

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Prediction is always difficult, but doubly so in the case of the US president-elect. Donald Trump not only speaks loosely and changes his positions often; he also considers unpredictability to be a useful bargaining tool. Still, one can try to get a sense of what his foreign policy will look like from his campaign statements, his high-level appointments and his first term.

In Washington, it is often said that ‘personnel is policy’. But while we already know whom Trump wants for key positions, the problem is that their stated views sometimes conflict with each other. With Trump making every effort to avoid the traditional Republicans who hemmed him in during his first term, the common denominator among his choices this time is personal loyalty. But even this quality does not help us predict policy.

Consider the question of China. Trump’s choices for secretary of state and national security adviser—Senator Marco Rubio and Representative Michael Waltz, respectively—are well-known hawks who see China as a dominant threat that demands a strong response. We also know from his campaign that Trump is eager to introduce new tariffs on imports from allies, with even higher tariffs on goods from China.

With Trump already announcing plans to slap tariffs on imports from Mexico, Canada and China, we should certainly expect some new levies to be imposed. But the tariffs’ rates, duration and exemptions remain uncertain and subject both to domestic political pressures and Trump’s personal whims. As his designee for treasury secretary, Scott Bessent, recently said, ‘I think a lot of what he’s doing is to escalate to de-escalate, and my goal for his administration would be to save international trade.’

Equally uncertain is how Trump might respond to retaliation by US trade partners. If tit-for-tat trade wars drive tariffs and prices higher, the return of inflation may trigger a domestic political backlash. Since Trump prides himself on his dealmaking prowess, he may seek compromises. Would he offer his Chinese counterpart, Xi Jinping, weaker US support for Taiwan in exchange for a trade deal that he could hold up as a victory? Some of the US’s Asian allies worry about precisely this scenario.

Judging by Trump’s campaign statements and previous term in the White House, we should also expect him to devalue multilateralism and alliances. He has promised to withdraw again from the Paris climate agreement, and to increase domestic production and exports of oil and gas. While the price of renewable energy has been declining in the US, it remains to be seen whether his policies will cancel out that beneficial market effect by reducing these industries’ relative cost competitiveness.

In the Middle East, Trump’s campaign statements were unconditionally supportive of Israel, and he still takes pride in having negotiated the Abraham Accords, which normalised relations between Israel and four Arab countries. When the Biden administration tried to build on this breakthrough by enticing Saudi Arabia to recognise Israel, the Saudis set a precondition: Israel must take steps toward creating a Palestinian state. But Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s right-wing coalition staunchly opposes a two-state solution, and since Hamas’s attack on 7 October 2023, Israeli public support for such an outcome, already low, has fallen further. Trump undoubtedly wants to extend his prior success in the region, but it is anyone’s guess how he will go about it.

Turning to Europe and NATO, Trump said during the campaign that he would end the war in Ukraine ‘in one day.’ We know that will not happen, but there is deep uncertainty about how he will try to negotiate an armistice. One possibility is to reduce assistance to Ukraine and weaken its bargaining position so that it must accept Russian terms. Or Trump could temporarily extend support for Ukraine while moving toward a Korean solution.

In the latter scenario, the current front line would become a demilitarised zone staffed by United Nations or European peacekeepers whom Russia would have to force out if it wants to restart the war. Ukraine could continue to assert sovereignty over areas like the Donbas, but it most likely would be unable to join NATO. Instead, perhaps some subset of countries could offer to come to its aid if Russia violated the demilitarised zone. It is unclear whether Trump will use his bargaining power vis-a-vis Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky and Russian President Vladimir Putin to produce such a compromise. But securing a deal will certainly be attractive if he is thinking about his legacy.

Even if predictions based on campaign statements and personnel leave us uncertain, we can at least locate Trump in the historical traditions of US foreign policy. Recall his first inaugural address, when he proclaimed that ‘from this moment on, it’s going to be America first … we do not seek to impose our way of life on anyone, but rather to let it shine as an example.’ This view accords with the city-on-the-hill approach to US foreign policy, which has a long pedigree. It is not isolationism, but it eschews activism.

By contrast, in the 20th century, Woodrow Wilson sought a foreign policy that would make democracy safe in the world, and John F Kennedy urged Americans to consider what they could do for the rest of the world, establishing the Peace Corps in 1961. Jimmy Carter made human rights a core concern of US foreign policy, and George W. Bush’s international strategy rested on the twin pillars of leading a growing global community of democracies and promoting freedom, justice and human dignity.

The one prediction that seems safe is that Trump’s approach to the world will be more in keeping with the first of these traditions than the second.

The problems with Australia’s social media youth law

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Australia’s landmark attempt to restrict youth access to social media will bring unwelcome consequences. The government’s legislation, passed by parliament on 28 November, risks shifting online problems to social media platforms that it doesn’t cover. It also undermines parents’ rights and offers little clarity on enforcement or effectiveness.

Its limitations on social media access fail to acknowledge the nuanced nature of digital harms. What Australia needs is not a blunt instrument such as an age restriction, but a comprehensive, forward-thinking strategy that addresses the full range of digital harms that young people face.

The legislation is the Online Safety Amendment (Social Media Minimum Age) Bill 2024. The world-first law will require social media platforms to withhold access from Australians under 16.

The Bill’s intent is clear—to safeguard young Australians from the perceived harms of social media, mainly related to mental health—but its approach is vague and misguided.

Mixed messages sent by Australian politicians about youth responsibility are stark. While the federal government is moving ahead with this legislation, in Queensland and the Northern Territory there’s a push to reduce the age of criminal responsibility; some suggest that children as young as 10 should be held accountable for serious crimes. At the same time, the Australian Greens are advocating for a reduction in the voting age, proposing that young people should have a say in the nation’s future despite being considered too immature to manage their own online presence. Those inconsistencies undermine the clarity and effectiveness of national policy on youth issues.

At its core, the Bill seeks to address a poorly understood issue with a solution that appears more reactionary than strategic. It fails to acknowledge the nuanced nature of digital harms—mental health issues, online radicalisation and misinformation—many of which are not confined to traditional social media.

Restricting access to platforms like Snapchat, TikTok and Instagram may seem like an obvious measure to protect youth, but it overlooks the dynamic, shifting nature of the online world. Rather than curbing digital harms, it could push young people towards less regulated spaces such as gaming platforms, forums or encrypted messaging apps. That could open up new, unforeseen risks.

Young people’s relationships and social interactions are increasingly digital. For them, online friendships are just as real, meaningful and complex as the ones forged in person by previous generations. By failing to understand that shift, the Bill risks misjudging young people’s digital lives and undermining their autonomy. Moreover, it risks socially isolating many young Australians from friends geographically dispersed across the world.

Enforcing the legislation will be challenging. It does not clearly define what constitutes a ‘social media platform’ or outline a concrete plan for implementing restrictions, even if that’s technically possible. For instance, Snapchat could easily circumvent restrictions by reducing its social media features, leaving its core messaging capabilities intact. The legislation also excludes messaging and gaming platforms. Youth radicalisation has often occurred in spaces outside conventional social media on platforms like Discord or through direct messaging. As we’ve seen in recent cases of violent extremism, those platforms can play just as pivotal a role in radicalisation as social media networks.

The Bill assumes that digital harm can be mitigated through restrictions alone, without considering the broader context of online engagement. While reducing young people’s exposure to certain platforms might protect them from some forms of harm, it does not address the root causes or provide lasting solutions.

The reality is that young Australians will continue to be exposed to harmful content online, regardless of which platform they use. The real issue lies not just in the platforms themselves but in a lack of digital literacy, inadequate online safety education and the broader societal factors that contribute to mental health struggles. With its focus on age-based restrictions, the Bill fails to provide a holistic, effective solution to the challenges young people face in today’s digital environment. Also, if social media organisations implement these measures, they’ll arguably be required to hold more of our data, bringing new risks.

Australia needs a comprehensive, forward-thinking strategy that addresses the full range of digital harms young people face. That includes improving digital literacy in schools, equipping parents with the tools to protect and guide their children and strengthening collaboration with tech companies to develop more effective content moderation.

Rather than simply banning access to certain platforms, the government must focus on promoting resilience, fostering safer online spaces and giving young people the skills they need to navigate the digital world responsibly. Importantly, any policy response must respect the rights of parents to make decisions about their children’s digital lives and avoid imposing top-down solutions that limit parental involvement.

The government’s approach to this Bill fails to recognise the complexity of digital harm and, by focusing solely on age-based restrictions, risks creating a false sense of security. The solution lies not in attempting to shut Pandora’s box but in ensuring that the next generation is equipped to handle its contents. Perhaps the starting point should be better engaging with Australia’s youth.

Nuclear deterrence needs to be discussed at ANZMIN

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Foreign Minister Penny Wong, Defence Minister Richard Marles and their Kiwi counterparts need to discuss nuclear deterrence, not just non-proliferation, when they meet in Auckland for the second 2+2 Australia-New Zealand ministerial consultations (ANZMIN) today.

The growing salience of nuclear weapons in the Indo-Pacific will force difficult choices in the coming years. Australia and New Zealand will handle these challenges differently because they have different perspectives on US extended deterrence, but the deteriorating strategic environment in the Indo-Pacific means different views shouldn’t stop the cross-Tasman neighbours discussing the issue.

Talking about nuclear deterrence is harder for Wellington because antinuclear sentiment is stronger in New Zealand than Australia. While New Zealand-United States military cooperation has picked up in recent years, Wellington is unlikely to formally recover US protection under the ANZUS treaty while it sticks to its policy—in place since the 1980s—of refusing entry to nuclear-armed or nuclear-powered vessels. That policy will also apply to the conventionally armed, nuclear-powered submarines that Australia will acquire through AUKUS.

Wellington has also narrowed its legal room for manoeuvre by ratifying the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons (TPNW), which prevents New Zealand claiming US nuclear protection. New Zealand also advocates for countries to join the TPNW, tapping a rich vein of antinuclear sentiment among Pacific island countries.

Canberra has greater leeway to support the US nuclear umbrella because it has not signed the TPNW, although the current Labor government favours signing in the unlikely event that Australia’s strategic circumstances become conducive to doing so.

For decades, Australian governments have minimised public debate over nuclear deterrence by keeping declarations of support for the US nuclear umbrella muted, while championing multilateral initiatives on non-proliferation and disarmament short of a nuclear ban treaty.

Successive Australian defence ministers have justified the role that facilities like Pine Gap and North West Cape play in the US nuclear umbrella as a contribution to stability and non-proliferation. And defence officials have told parliament that Australia respects the US policy of not disclosing the location of its nuclear weapons, exploiting caveats that allow US nuclear forces to pass through Australia without breaching Canberra’s legal obligations within the South Pacific Nuclear Free Zone.

But the rapidly changing strategic landscape of the Indo-Pacific is making it harder for Wellington and Canberra to maintain nuclear policies that were fixed at the tail end of the Cold War.

As China’s nuclear arsenal and superiority in regional missile forces grows, Beijing could mimic Moscow’s use of nuclear threats in pursuit of its revisionist aims, which include territorial gains, breaking up the US alliances and expelling US forces from the Western Pacific. The growing collaboration between Beijing, Moscow and Pyongyang could also facilitate nuclear coercion.

The second Trump administration is likely to expand the US nuclear arsenal to counter threats from Russia, China and North Korea. Trump may accelerate the development of a sea-launched nuclear cruise missile (SLCM-N), which could be deployed on US Navy attack submarines and perhaps some surface warships that have not carried nuclear weapons since the end of the Cold War. Trump may also consider stationing US nuclear weapons in South Korea, although this week’s brief declaration of martial law in Seoul might dampen the prospects of sharing US nuclear weapons with the South Korean military.

Trump will be clear that allies must accept risk and pay more for their defence in exchange for US protection. This will affect Canberra and Wellington differently because the US presently only recognises its obligations to Australia under the ANZUS Treaty. Even so, Trump and his team may still float ideas that are untethered to legal frameworks, such as storing nuclear weapons on Australian soil or expecting US Navy ships that might be carrying nuclear weapons to have access through New Zealand’s ports and waters.

Canberra and Wellington share a strong interest in discussing nuclear matters privately, but antinuclear sentiment and laws, especially in New Zealand, circumscribe how much can be said publicly. The inaugural ANZMIN joint statement in February this year focused on non-proliferation and arms control, overlooking nuclear deterrence, and the joint statement issued after Prime Minister Anthony Albanese met with his Kiwi counterpart Christopher Luxon in August ignored nuclear issues.

Even so, Australian and New Zealand ministers could say more together about nuclear deterrence without straying into legal grey area. For instance, they could call out Russia’s nuclear threats, China’s non-transparent nuclear build-up and the way both countries are undermining UN sanctions on North Korea. Ministers could also question how Beijing can credibly advocate internationally for no first use of nuclear weapons when China is refusing to establish hotlines for crisis management and ‘entangles’ its nuclear and conventional forces in dangerous ways. Ministers could also highlight the humanitarian consequences of nuclear testing in predominantly Muslim regions of China and the former Soviet Union, rather than focusing solely on historic testing in the Pacific region by the US, Britain and France.

Australia and New Zealand must adjust to living in a region in which nuclear weapons will play a greater role than they have in the past. To face reality, one must find the courage to talk about it.

It’ll take effort, not hype, to finally achieve the hydrogen future

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The Australian government envisions Australia as a renewable energy superpower, with the Future Made in Australia policy committing billions to building a domestic hydrogen industry. For decades, optimists have called hydrogen the fuel of the future, while cynics have said it’s 20 years away—and always will be. Hydrogen offers Australia, particularly northern Australia, great economic opportunity. But more policy work is needed to achieve this opportunity.

The history of hydrogen fuel and industry reveals ambitious promises and disappointing results. Is Australia poised to lead in this energy revolution, or are we caught in a hype cycle?

Hydrogen could help decarbonise sectors including long-haul transportation, ammonia manufacturing, steel making and other industrial processes, commonly by replacing metallurgical coal and natural gas. But transitioning to hydrogen is not easy.

In 2003, then-US president George W Bush pledged US$1.7 billion to hydrogen fuel initiatives and programs to develop more environmentally friendly transportation technologies. Bush dreamed that when children born in 2003 bought their first cars, those cars would be hydrogen powered. 21 years later, their first cars likely still had regular combustion engines.

Despite various initiatives, estimated global hydrogen fuel cell passenger car stock is only 93,000 cars. Instead, electric vehicles are leading in decarbonising road transport: more than 10 million electric vehicles were sold in 2022, about 14 percent of all new car sales. S&P Global projected 13.3 million electric-vehicle sales in 2024 (an estimated 16 percent of total new car sales).

Some analysis attributes the long-running ups and downs of hydrogen hype cycles to both internal factors (such as technological innovation) and external factors (such as domestic politics and national security). The risk is that Australia may now be investing in hydrogen due to these external factors, rather than technological progress and at the cost of investing in other, more successful clean technologies.

The Future Made in Australia initiative commits $8.0 billion to hydrogen over the next 10 years. This includes $6.7 billion through the hydrogen production tax incentive and a further $1.3 billion to the Hydrogen Headstart program, which funds large-scale hydrogen projects.

Northern Australia can especially benefit from the clean energy transition generally, potentially including hydrogen. Its energy expertise, abundant opportunities for building solar farms, and port infrastructure make it uniquely suited to hydrogen production. Government support is also needed—and each jurisdiction in northern Australia has developed a hydrogen strategy and has committed resources to supporting projects.

For example, the Northern Territory government has fast-tracked tracking a proposed H2 green-hydrogen hub at Darwin’s Middle Arm Sustainable Development Precinct. Major hydrogen projects in Tenant Creek, the Tiwi islands are also being explored. Federal and state funding is also backing development of hydrogen hubs in Townsville and the Pilbarra.

However, industry remains wary of over-extending into hydrogen. In October, utility Origin Energy announced its withdrawal from a major hydrogen project in NSW’s Hunter Valley that had been shortlisted for Hydrogen Headstart funding.

Widespread use of hydrogen is possible, but there is no guarantee that the potential will be realised soon. Electrolysis technology faces significant scaling difficulties, and just 4 percent of proposed hydrogen projects globally reach the stage of a final investment decision. Australia has the largest pipeline of hydrogen projects in the world, with an estimated value of more than $225 billion. But as of July 2024, only three of the 76 projects were under construction.

Concerningly, hydrogen has unaddressed demand issues, according to the International Energy Agency. The government is optimistic about massive growth in hydrogen demand by 2050. But projections to 2050 often rely on growth in new applications for hydrogen—such as in heavy industry, long distance transport and energy storage—accounting for up to one third of consumption. Yet these new applications currently account for just 1 percent of total demand. Governments and investors must be wary of the discrepancy.

Valuations of the global clean hydrogen sectors are in decline. In early 2021, S&P’s Hydrogen Economy Index, which measures the value of clean hydrogen companies across the supply chain, peaked at US$293. After steady decline it is now at US$116.

Still, Australia should not necessarily give up its hydrogen bet. But we must remain aware that plenty of work is needed for it to pay off.

Further policy measures are needed. Foreign investment will be needed to grow and sustain the industry. International partners such as the United Arab Emirates—with its capital, investments in hydrogen, national hydrogen strategy, long experience in energy, and free trade agreement with Australia—will be important to realising Australia’s hydrogen potential.

The government and industry will have to communicate more to reduce costs, increase hydrogen competitiveness and understand why major companies are withdrawing from projects.

Governments must prioritise research and development into clean hydrogen production and new hydrogen applications. Australia needs innovation to get a competitive advantage.

Finally, the federal government must deliver on the National Hydrogen Strategy and be ready to adjust it to reflect market situations. The strategy is promising, but it must coordinate the federal government, state and territory governments, and industry to deliver an Australian hydrogen economy.

Designing a force structure for New Zealand’s strategic circumstances

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The ANZMIN meeting of foreign and defence ministers in Auckland this week should focus on how Australia and New Zealand can modernise their alliance to deal with worsening strategic circumstances.

The Luxon government has adopted sharper language about the threat posed by China, but New Zealand lacks a comprehensive defence plan fit for its strategic circumstances, equivalent to Australia’s Defence Strategic Review and subsequent National Defence Strategy.

Wellington’s Defence Capability Plan due for publication in early 2025 is an opportunity to rectify that by laying out the force structure that the New Zealand Defence Force needs to develop over the next decade and beyond. That plan should be shaped by the Australia-NZ alliance and be based on firm methodological foundations, as laid out below.

The first priority is a clear assessment of warning time. Strategic warning time requires not only high-level intelligence analysis about future military threats; it also means bringing together assessment of threats to foreign policy, economic and trade interests, and new threats, including cyber war, artificial intelligence and new weapon systems, such as hypersonics.

The New Zealand government needs to develop a high-level national intelligence warning staff headed by an experienced senior official with both policy and intelligence experience. This person should have direct access to both the minister of defence and the minister of foreign affairs and the National Security Committee.

This brings me to what should be the chief force structure priorities for a country of New Zealand’s size and location. They are twofold: first, New Zealand’s geography and key geopolitical interests; second, what sort of military contingencies and other key national security threats could occur?

From the outset, it needs to be made clear that these two key determinants must not waste time or money on such worst-case contingencies as an invasion or direct military attack on New Zealand. This means that rigorous intellectual pressure must be brought to bear on selecting the relevant threats and contingencies.

It is fashionable to assert that geography no longer matters, because of the speed and accuracy of modern missiles. This must be a consideration. Still, New Zealand is a long way from any potential adversary, such as China, and any forces that such an adversary might send to the South Pacific would be very vulnerable to interdiction. But geography would come back into play with a vengeance if China acquired a military base in the South Pacific. This would threaten New Zealand’s and Australia’s vital sea lines of communication with the United States.

New Zealand’s broader geopolitical circumstances require close attention. In the Cold War, Australia and New Zealand were distant from the USSR’s key strategic interests. And for much of the post-Cold War period, the US has been the unchallenged unipolar power. All this is changing because of the rapid increase in China’s military power, China’s alignment with Russia, North Korea and Iran, and its leveraging of trade and aid across the broader Asia-Pacific region.

This means New Zealand needs to give higher priority to the basic security of its region. These geopolitical issues also need to be considered in determining force-structure priorities.

We must ensure that the South Pacific remains a region of peace and prosperity where all countries are able to pursue their national objectives free from external coercion. An unfavourable balance of power in the South Pacific would increase the risk of regional countries, including New Zealand, being coerced and losing their ability to pursue key interests peacefully. New Zealand and Australia must remain the partner of choice for the Pacific family, including in security cooperation. New Zealand’s Pacific Maori culture is central to its relationships in the South Pacific and provides an advantage.

New Zealand needs to maintain high-level situational awareness in the South Pacific, its primary area of strategic concern, to gain warning time and space for decision making.

As noted earlier, the assessment of credible military threats does not include worst-case military planning contingencies. There still needs to be a tough-minded professional group in the Ministry of Defence testing credible contingencies and applying them to judgements on force-structure priorities.

Maritime contingencies clearly need priority. However, there is a challenging role for New Zealand’s army in the South Pacific, perhaps in a joint New Zealand and Australia amphibious force capable of conducting demanding littoral operations in the South Pacific.

New Zealand defence experts’ determination of credible military threats needs to be rigorously consistent with tough-minded analysis of net military assessments. This is a well-known and trusted methodology of measuring a potential adversary’s military capabilities.

Such net assessments need to focus on what foreign military capabilities could realistically be used against New Zealand, and how New Zealand’s future force structure must be developed in response. The chief of the Australian Defence Force, Admiral David Johnston, tells me that Australia is already intensively using a combination of credible contingencies and net military assessments.

Incorporating the defence planning methodology recommended here would provide strategic warning to political decision-makers and ensure a robust New Zealand force structure evolved for its unique strategic circumstances.

The Luxon government must also communicate its new approach properly if it is to build the social licence required for increased defence spending, which is also essential. Australia can help with that process, including through the ministerial statements and press comments that will emerge from ANZMIN this week.