Myanmar’s scam centres demand ASEAN-Australia collaboration

China’s crackdown on cyber-scam centres on the Thailand-Myanmar border may cause a shift away from Mandarin, towards English-speaking victims. Scammers also used the 28 March earthquake to scam international victims.

Australia, with its proven capabilities to disrupt cybercrime networks, should support the Association of Southeast Asian Nations’ efforts to tackle this kind of transnational organised crime. Doing so would also help ease pressure on Australian policing and cyber capabilities, which deal with thousands of cybercrime reports each year.

Myanmar’s border regions, particularly around Myawaddy, are infamous for scam compounds. Victims—often lured by fake job ads on social media—are trafficked to these sites. Upon arrival, they’re forced to hand over their IDs and mobile phones, and are then forced to engage in love scams, crypto fraud, money laundering and illegal online gambling. The United Nations estimates around 120,000 people are trapped in Myanmar alone, with another 100,000 in Cambodia and unknown numbers in Laos, the Philippines and Thailand.

For years, Chinese authorities ignored this criminal enterprise. But when Chinese actor Wang Xing disappeared, a viral plea from his girlfriend on microblogging site Weibo triggered action. Within hours, Xing was released, sparking outcry on the social media from families of 1800 missing Chinese nationals believed to have been trafficked.

Xing’s rescue highlights the power of grassroots mobilisation but also exposes the systemic law enforcement failures on the border. While Nay Pyi Daw tolerates these scam centres, the operations persist due to selective enforcement from authorities in neighbouring China and Thailand, leaving the power networks behind them unscathed.

After public pressure, Chinese President Xi Jinping took action and met with Thai Prime Minister Paetongtarn Shinawatra in February. Following the high-level meeting, Thailand immediately cut electricity, internet and gas supplies to five towns known for harbouring cyber-scam centres. However, these efforts remain largely performative as Myanmar junta-allied actors also position themselves as part of the crackdown, such as Saw Chit Thu‘s  Border Guard Force, despite its complicity in scam compounds. While more than 7000 people have been released, far more remain trapped. Syndicates continue to evolve, securing alternative electricity sources, switching to Starlink satellite connections, and potentially relocating their operations elsewhere.

China’s shifting approach towards Myanmar complicates matters. Its increased support for Myanmar’s military regime pushed the cyber-scam syndicates into areas controlled by the junta and its allied ethnic militias. Criminal activities accelerated and diverted their recruitment to English-speaking targets.

China’s response is also inherently reactionary and limited, doing little for victims in other countries such as Cambodia and Laos. While China’s diplomatic influence has led to some progress, victims from other countries, such as the Philippines and Indonesia, lack similar leverage to pressure host governments.

This calls for a more holistic and coordinated regional approach. It should focus on preventing modern slavery and combatting cyber and cyber-enabled crimes, and should include ASEAN as well as partners such as Australia.

ASEAN has a rudimentary structure to facilitate intra-regional intelligence sharing, joint investigations and coordinated rescue operations. ASEANAPOL and INTERPOL’s Singapore-based operations support coordination among regional police forces. While this has led to many arrests and seizures of assets, the overall effort falls short of dismantling criminal enterprises.

Last year’s launch of the ASEAN Computer Emergency Response Team was a positive move, strengthening the region’s ability to address cybersecurity incidents. But efforts to dismantle cyber-scam networks in Myanmar remain limited due to protection from junta-backed militias.

This situation should prompt greater Australian involvement. Australia’s offensive cyber capabilities helped disrupt cyber-crime networks, such as Lockbit and ZServers. In November, the Australian Federal Police, working with Philippine authorities, took down a major scam syndicate in Manila under Operation Firestorm, seizing digital evidence to trace Australian victims and disrupt global fraud operations.

With thousands of Australians falling victim to scam operations, Australia’s cybercrime-fighting efforts should prioritise taking down overseas scam networks. This could be done by strengthening skills and capabilities of cyber detectives and offensive cyber operators in the region, for instance through capacity-building workshops and mission-specific training. However, the government should also be prepared to use its political and economic heft to pressure host nations that allow such criminal activities, using tools such as ministerial interventions, attributions and cyber sanctions.

The Fifth ASEAN Digital Ministers’ meeting earlier this year stressed the need for international collaboration on implementing additional measures to prevent cross-border scams. While the roles of China, Japan, the United States and Russia were mentioned, Australia is not yet engaged. This is an opportunity for Australia to increase its collaboration with ASEAN, especially in the wake of the recent Myanmar earthquake, which scammers exploited through fake clickbait donations and malicious links.

Australia has committed to provide $2 million for Myanmar’s disaster response. Yet, targeted initiatives to address cyber scams would bolster defences against transnational cybercrime and create a safer global environment.

In trade, nothing can replace the US consumer. Still, Asian countries look to each other

How will the US assault on trade affect geopolitical relations within Asia? Will nations turn to China and seek protection by trading with each other?

The happy snaps a week ago of the trade ministers of China, Japan and South Korea shaking each other’s hands over progress on a trilateral trade pact suggested that possibility.

The three, from nations with deep historic antipathy towards each other, said an agreement would create ‘a predicable trade and investment environment’, and they promised to speed negotiations.

There had been no discernible progress on the proposed trilateral deal since negotiations were launched in 2012. That this was the first ministerial meeting since 2019 points to the challenge ahead.

Asian nations have been active—some would say hyper-active—in pursuit of trade deals. The Asian Development Bank counts 77 preferential trade agreements among the nations of the Asia-Pacific region (including Australia) and a further 109 agreements signed with nations outside the region. Its research shows the agreements provide little help to export volumes.

About 56 percent of Asia-Pacific trade is within the region, which is only slightly less than the internal trade of the European Union. However, the intra-regional trade share has shown no growth since 2005 and has in fact slipped since 2020, despite the spread of trade deals.

Asian nations hit by US tariffs will certainly seek sales elsewhere. However, the first link in the supply chains that bind together enterprises across the region remains China’s subsidised manufacturers while the prize market remains the ravenous appetite of the US consumer.

There have been big changes in Asian trade patterns over the past decade. China has become more self-sufficient, particularly since 2018, when Donald Trump launched his first round of tariffs.

China’s President Xi Jinping responded in 2020 with his Dual Circulation Strategy, under which China would remain open to world markets but would seek economic self-reliance and import substitution in strategic sectors.

An analysis by Hinrich Foundation shows the success of this import-substitution drive. For every $100 of GDP growth over the past decade, China has had to import only $12.50 of goods and services, whereas in the decade to 2013, it needed $21.50 of imports for every $100 of GDP growth.

China’s imports are increasingly concentrated among a handful of countries, led by Russia, Vietnam, Brazil and Australia. Hinrich estimates that countries representing less than 10 percent of the global economy have supplied two thirds of China’s import growth over the last decade.

China sought, in particular, to become less dependent on the United States as both a market and as a supplier. The US share of China’s exports fell from 20 percent in 2018 to 12 percent last year, while the US share of China’s imports dropped from 8 percent to 6 percent.

While China’s direct trade with the US has fallen, its trade with Southeast Asia has increased. China’s share of Southeast Asian exports rose from 12 percent to 16 percent over the past decade, while its share of the region’s imports went from 16 percent to 24 percent.

Rather than exporting finished goods to the US, China is selling components to such countries as Vietnam, Cambodia and Malaysia, which then sell finished goods to the US.

The US has provided most of the growth for Southeast Asian exporters, with its share of their sales rising from 9 percent to 15 percent over the past decade.

There has been no growth in the US share of Southeast Asian imports, which has held steady at around 6 percent for most of the past 20 years.

The US has also become much more self-sufficient over the past decade as a result of the surge in its oil and gas production following the development of fracking technology.

However, US imports of manufactured goods have continued to rise. Estimates by Council on Foreign Relations fellow Brad Setser show the US trade deficit in manufactured goods has almost doubled since the 2008 global financial crisis to about 1.3 percent of global GDP.

In the same time, China’s manufacturing surplus has almost tripled to 1.7 percent of global GDP. Other Asian countries have become intermediaries in the flow of manufactured goods from China to the US but have not replaced it.

There is no other market like the US consumer. US household spending in 2023 reached $19 trillion, double the level of the European Union and almost three times that of China.

The huge imposts on US imports from China, Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand and Indonesia will increase the cost and slow the flow of goods to US consumers, but there are no obvious markets to replace them.

Whether the tariffs act as the catalyst for the reindustrialisation of the US—an objective of both Republicans and Democrats—remains to be seen.

Reviewing the intelligence reviews (so far)

With the report of the recent intelligence review by Heather Smith and Richard Maude finally released, critics could look on and wonder: why all the fuss? After all, while the list of recommendations is substantial, the review overall recommends only incremental change. To understand what’s happened here, it helps to reflect on the historical context. This article provides a review of previous intelligence reviews that predated this one and what they mean for today.

Two things to note upfront. First is the incremental and spasmodic shift for intelligence organisations from operating under often secretive prime ministerial executive edicts last century to operating today under formalised and publicly available legislation that can be scrutinised by practitioners, pundits and critics alike.

Second is the expansion in the number of intelligence organisations and the number and consequence of the various oversight mechanisms that have accrued over the years. These mechanisms include a range of parliamentary, executive and independent accountability oversight mechanisms as captured in the below diagram of the NIC Structure and Accountability Arrangements (compiled by the author). The end result is a range of government instrumentalities intended to provide accurate reliable and timely intelligence support to government decision makers coupled with parliamentary, executive and independent accountability mechanisms that are unmatched internationally. But first, let’s review how we got there.

World War II Legacy

The intelligence organisations that emerged following World War II were different from their wartime antecedents. Back then, the combined arrangements working with the United States under General Douglas MacArthur had spawned collaborative agencies in 1942 in which Americans and Australians worked hand in hand. The Central Bureau (for signals intelligence) and the Allied Intelligence Bureau (for espionage, or human intelligence, sabotage and special operations), as well as the Allied Translator and Interpreter Services and Allied Geographical Section are the better known entities. When the Americans left at the end of the war, though, they took with them much of the organisational apparatus, people and equipment behind these organisations.

Source: author.

Early Cold War Arrangements

The Australian remnants of these once combined US-Australian entities were gathered at Victoria Barracks in Melbourne until a post-war plan was formulated. By 1947 a national signals-intelligence agency, the Defence Signals Bureau had emerged; this was the precursor to the Australian Signals Directorate (ASD). Also by 1947 there was an analytical arm, the Joint Intelligence Bureau, precursor to today’s Defence Intelligence Organisation (DIO). By 1949 the wartime domestic security service was seen as unreliable and compromised. It was replaced by prime ministerial edict with the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation (ASIO). By 1952 Alfred Brookes was commissioned to establish a foreign human intelligence collection agency, the Australian Secret Intelligence Service (ASIS). None of these agencies had any media profile to note.

The Petrov Royal Commission

The defection in 1954 of KGB officer Vladimir Petrov, and his wife, Evdokia, who was the embassy cipher clerk, was a major coup for ASIO and led to national and global headlines that put ASIO in the spotlight. A Royal Commission on Espionage followed which looked at espionage, but not at ASIO or other intelligence organisations. The commission was engulfed in controversy as the Labor Party saw it as a ploy launched by prime minister Robert Menzies on the eve of a federal election. As David Horner writes in his official ASIO history, The Spy Catchers, the truth was less dramatic. Yes, Menzies capitalised on the opportunity, but the defection was genuine. In the end, ASIO was placed under legislation. No one was prosecuted, because much of the corroborating evidence of the so-called nest of spies came from what was then a still highly sensitive source, decrypted Soviet diplomatic messages pointing to Australians supplying secrets to the Soviets. The ASIO Act 1956 followed. This was the first time an Australian intelligence agency was placed under legislation, although it would be some time before ASIO was made accountable to parliament.

The first Hope Royal Commission

Two decades would pass before another royal commission probed into the workings of Australia’s intelligence apparatus. In 1974 prime minister Gough Whitlam commissioned Robert Marsden Hope, a New South Wales judge and civil libertarian, to undertake the Royal Commission on Intelligence and Security (RCIS). Hope reviewed the post war intelligence arrangements and recommended a series of reforms, most implemented by Whitlam’s successor, Malcolm Fraser. This included establishing the Office of National Assessments (ONA) in 1977 as well as pushing through parliament a revised and expanded ASIO Act 1979. A Security Appeals Tribunal was established and later absorbed into the Administrative Appeals Tribunal (AAT), recently rebadged as the Administrative Review Tribunal.

Protective Security Review

Shortly after completing the RCIS, Hope was tasked to undertake a Protective Security Review (PSR) in February 1978. This followed the explosion of a bomb at the Hilton Hotel in downtown Sydney, which coincided with the Commonwealth Heads of Government Regional meeting chaired by Fraser. Hope was not tasked to identify the culprit (the bombing was linked to the Ananda Marga sect), but his review led to closer coordination of intelligence and policing, both at state and federal levels, and the prioritisation of organising to counter acts of terrorism.

Second Hope

In March 1983, newly appointed prime minister Bob Hawke commissioned Hope once again, this time to review progress of the intelligence community (AIC) had made since Whitlam had commissioned him a decade earlier. The Royal Commission on Australia’s Security and Intelligence Agencies (RCASIA) coincided with revelations of KGB shenanigans with former ALP National Secretary David Combe, which led to the expulsion of KGB officer Valery Ivanov. The review was then expanded to also consider a bungled ASIS exercise conducted at the Sheraton Hotel in Melbourne. In the public hearings that followed, Hawke took the stand and defended the efficacy and significance of Australia’s intelligence community. Hope subsequently recommended, and Hawke approved, the creation of an Inspector General of Intelligence and Security (IGIS), with enduring powers of a royal commissioner. The IGIS office holder still has these powers.

First Richardson, Holloway and Cook

Hawke’s successor as prime minister, Paul Keating, commissioned Dennis Richardson in 1992 to review ASIO and consider where a peace dividend following the Cold War could be harvested. Mindful of the searing cross-examination Hawke had experienced with the RCASIA a decade earlier, this review was managed behind closed doors and went largely uncontested. But it dealt with weighty issues, including reports of penetration by Soviet spies. It did so by downsizing and clearing out personnel. Also, Sandy Holloway was commissioned to review shortfalls in Australia’s foreign intelligence collection. A former director-general of ONA, Michael Cook, is widely seen as associated with internal security reviews as well. He would have been pleased with Richardson’s work.

Samuels and Codd

By the mid-1990s reports were emerging of further inappropriate behaviour in ASIS. Justice Gordon Samuels and Michael Codd were commissioned to review the matter and make recommendations. Their mid-1995 report proposed that ASIS come under legislation (as ASIO had in 1956 and again in 1979). This led to a drawn-out process as parliamentarians debated over how to respond. Reports in 1999 of a surveillance network run by the Five Eyes partners, Echelon, accelerated the momentum for reform not just for ASIS. Eventually ASIO, ASIS and the Defence Signals Directorate (DSD, later ASD) came under what would become the Parliamentary Joint Committee on Intelligence and Security (PJCIS).

By the end of September, parliament passed the Intelligence Services Act of 2001. This saw ASIS and DSD come under legislation for the first time. In addition, the powers of the IGIS would come to cover all six agencies of the intelligence community. These were ASIO, ASIS, DSD, DIO, ONA and the nascent Defence Intelligence and Geospatial Organisation (DIGO), which later became the Australian Geospatial-Intelligence Organisation (AGO).

Flood

Following the East Timor crisis of 1999, the first Bali bombing in 2002, and a scandal revolving around the unfounded claims of Iraqi weapons of mass destruction in 2003, the former ONA director Philip Flood was appointed to conduct a fresh review in 2004. His Report on the Inquiry into Australia’s Intelligence Agencies identified weaknesses in the analytical reporting process and reinforced the need for separation of intelligence analysis from policy formulation. He also called for a bolstering of resources and a reinforcing of ONA’s central role of AIC coordination.

Cornall and Black

In line with a recommendation by Flood for periodic intelligence reviews, Robert Cornall and Rufus Black were appointed to conduct an Independent Review of the Intelligence Community (IRIC) in 2011. In addition to commissioning the IRIC that year, prime minister Kevin Rudd established the National Security College (NSC) at the Australian National University (ANU) and appointed an Independent National Security Legislation Monitor (INSLM).

AustraliaUnited StatesCanadaBritainFranceIndonesia
Overarching Inspector-General/Commissioner✓✓✓
Agency-specific Inspector-Generals✓
Ministerial oversight✓✓✓✓
Parliamentary oversight✓✓✓✓✓
Executive oversight✓✓✓✓✓✓
Independent reviews or bodies✓✓

Oversight and accountability mechanisms of Australia, compared with allies and partners. Source: author.

L’Estrange & Merchant

In 2017, a former secretary of the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade and first NSC director, Michael L’Estrange, along with a former Defence deputy secretary of intelligence and security, Stephen Merchant, were commissioned to undertake the next periodic review, the 2017 Independent Intelligence Review (IIR), aided by Sir Iain Lobban from Britain. Their review identified the expansion of the Australian intelligence community with the emergence of intelligence functions within the Australian Transactions Reports and Analysis Centre (AUSTRAC), the Australian Criminal Intelligence Commission, the intelligence arm of the Australia Federal Police (AFP) and the intelligence function within the then Department of Immigration and Border Protection (now Home Affairs). This called for the renaming of ONA as the Office of National Intelligence (ONI), headed by a director-general of national intelligence (DGNI) with more resources and a remit to more closely coordinate and manage this expanded National Intelligence Community (NIC).

The L’Estrange Merchant report was written separately from the plan to establish a more expansive Home Affairs portfolio that would, in addition to ASIO, encompass the four latecomers to the NIC: AUSTRAC, ACIC, AFP Intel and Home Affairs Intel. This construct would in part be reversed under Prime Minister Antony Albanese, who returned ASIO, AUSTRAC, ACIC and AFP to the Attorney-General’s portfolio.

Second Richardson

After having overseen the culling and later rebuilding of ASIO, Dennis Richardson was called back to review the growing body of intelligence legislation, mindful that the Home Affairs arrangements had been announced at the same time as the 2017 IIR report was released. With a wealth of historical insights into the functions performed, in a lengthy report Richardson and his team outlined where significant streamlining of legislation would be useful.

And now Maude and Smith

With all of this before them, Smith and Maude, no doubt, would have realised that in conducting their Independent Intelligence Review, they were following a well-worn path of review and reform that’s been summarised here. The incremental and periodic reforms undertaken over more than half a century have seen Australia bequeathed an intelligence apparatus of state with high levels of accountability.

In the espionage business the secret of success is often enough in keeping one’s successes secret, there are always limits in how transparent these agencies can be. Mindful of this, successive reviewers and governments have recognised the need to bolster accountability mechanisms, including parliamentary, executive and independent ones as well as periodic reports to parliament and the Australian people. In an age of heightened foreign interference, misinformation and disinformation, the importance of these oversight mechanisms is more important than ever.

A letter to America from an appreciative ally

Donald Trump’s philosophy about the United States’ place in the world is historically selfish and will impoverish his country’s spirit.

While he claimed last week to be ‘liberating’ Americans from the exploiters and freeloaders who’ve been screwing them, his assault on global trade was really just another step towards the US’s relieving itself of the responsibility it admirably took on as a new kind of superpower—one that embraced global leadership and used its power and wealth to shape the world for the better.

Americans should ask themselves, ‘Do you want to be remembered as the nation that changed the human story by overseeing a global system of rules and ethics that restrained people with power from doing whatever they liked to people without it? Or do you want history to describe the US as the country that, after a few generations of working to make the world a better place for all, chose the less exceptional path?’

All countries self-mythologise, sometimes in ways that elevate them. The uplifting story that the US has told about itself is that it is a special nation—a type of nation to which others can aspire, an indispensable nation. The US is great not in the sense of simply powerful. Many countries and empires have been powerful throughout history. Rather it is great in the sense that, as the world was becoming more connected in every way from sea trade to social media, it has recognised that global leadership based on a set of universal values was its responsibility.

Globalism is not, as Trump would have it, an ideology. It is a fact. Advances in technology, many driven by US innovation, as well as political, social and cultural progress, have brought the world together in the realms of both bits and atoms. US hegemony during this transformative period has helped deliver 80 years of remarkable stability, enabling the greatest ever period of global prosperity. The share of the global population living in extreme poverty, for instance, fell from 42 percent in 1981 to 9 percent in 2017, according to World Bank figures.

Most of the commentary about Trump’s revolution—the evisceration of foreign-aid agency USAID, the moral equivalence shown to Russia and Ukraine, the vengeful tariffs, the contempt towards likeminded democracies in Europe—has focussed on the self-defeating absence of strategic pragmatism. Commentators have shown a reticence in questioning the idea that the US has every right to act like an ordinary country and recalibrate its foreign policy to prioritise its national interest unyieldingly over the global interest.

Perhaps it’s presumptuous to say the US has an enduring duty. Granted, we can’t demand it continue to pursue global interests alongside its national interest. But as the biggest, richest, most powerful democracy at a time of rapid and confusing change, it has a unique opportunity—perhaps one that won’t come again any time soon—to keep leading the world through a period of progress, openness and stability, however bumpy that road might be.

Trump argues that global mindedness has come at an unacceptable cost to the US. But data shows otherwise. US GDP per capita, according to the latest World Bank data, is about US$83,000. Australia’s is about $65,000, with Britain $50,000, France $45,000, Germany $55,000 and Japan $34,000. China’s is about $13,000. The US has performed by far the best of any advanced economy in recent years. If the US’s friends are screwing it, they’re doing a lousy job.

The US-led global system has benefitted Americans as it benefitted others, some of those others perhaps more than Americans in relative terms, enabling those countries partially to catch up. That seems to clash with Trump’s win-or-lose guiding philosophy; if someone else has done well, that must be at our expense.

True, China has taken advantage of the liberal rules-based trading system and of globalisation. And yes, many friends of the US have neglected their defence spending obligations. But that message has now been heard loud and clear. However laggardly some allies have behaved, that doesn’t mean that the US is taken for granted. Indeed, it is deeply admired. Americans should not let Trump convince them that allies and partners are unappreciative spongers.

Perhaps the US wealth advantage would be wider still if it had pursued America First for many decades. But to what end? To become a bastion of material privilege in perpetuity? A nation of Mar-a-Lago inhabitants?

Think about those quintessential American stories, the type that Hollywood, more than any cultural centre, has mastered. When the bad guys ride into town or when the world starts to fall apart, the hero is the one who fights back, rallies everyone else, takes charge and puts things right. It’s not the person who shrinks away, tries to save his own skin or, worse, to profit from the chaos.

So this is a plea from an appreciative ally. The US that has taken responsibility for the world’s problems has billions of real friends and admirers. History will be very kind to it. You don’t need to make America great again. You already are great. But now you’re in serious danger of being just ordinary.

Australia’s food security needs national-security frameworks

Australia’s agriculture sector and food system have prospered under a global rules-based system influenced by Western liberal values. But the assumptions, policy approaches and economic frameworks that have traditionally supported Australia’s food security are no longer fit for purpose.

Australia and the Indo-Pacific now face chronic challenges: rising geopolitical tensions, geo-economic transitions, climate change, deteriorating water security and rapid technological advances. While the government is acting to improve the Australian Defence Force’s readiness for conflict in our region, we are not trying to replicate this preparedness elsewhere in a coordinated manner, including in our agriculture sector and food system.

The importance of food security to national security, as well as policy options to resolve our national vulnerabilities, are core issues within ASPI’s newly released National Food Security Preparedness Green Paper.

The green paper argues that food is a fundamental pillar of Australia’s national security and the stability and security of the Indo-Pacific. The role of food in maintaining national security, as well as Australian and regional prosperity, has been taken for granted by civil and defence circles for long enough. Australia’s deteriorating strategic environment and critical dependencies on vulnerable supply chains mean we must now reassess our food security and consider its effects on Australian security and regional stability.

Australia is a heavily trade-dependent nation that exports 70 percent of its food production while facing an insidious domestic food insecurity challenge. Access to export markets is vital for all agriculture and food system stakeholders to maintain profitability. But, for decades, Australia has offshored the manufacturing of critical industry inputs in the name of globalisation and on the assumption that the world will remain in the rules-based order. Australia depends on many imported critical inputs, including fuel, AdBlue (to reduce diesel emissions), fertiliser and, increasingly, labour.

Heightening regional trade and military tensions threaten Australia’s access to critical food system inputs and global markets. The Australian government is clear on the threats that we face. Australia can no longer rely on the traditional 10-year strategic warning time for conflict. Lifting Australia’s ability to feed itself and its neighbours is as important as strengthening defence and expanding national resilience.

For food security, our problem is two-fold: Australia relies on vulnerable agricultural and food system supply chains, and, compounding the issue, doesn’t understand this vulnerability. It therefore has no clear plans for mitigation.

As shown in the figure below, since the 2008 global financial crisis, at least 20 academic papers, reports and inquiries have highlighted the importance of Australia’s food system and its exposure to external shocks.

Timeline of Australian food system reports.

Despite these reports, food security has not been a national priority, resulting in limited policy responses.

The Covid-19 pandemic revealed the scale of Australia’s exposure to long and fragile supply chains and the extent to which shocks to the international system could disrupt them.

Many disruptions have happened since then, with varying domestic effect. At the time of writing, yet another flood disaster is unfolding in regional Queensland, killing 150,000 head of livestock and counting. This disaster will have immense long-term effects on rural and remote communities and the region’s food production capacity. This follows the emptying of supermarket shelves in areas affected by Cyclone Alfred a month ago. There are also recurring Avian Influenza outbreaks in southern Australia.

On 4 March, the government committed to developing a National Food Security Strategy if re-elected. This is a starting point that has at least flagged food security as a specific policy priority. It appears likely that the opposition will support this initiative in some form. Regardless of what the next government looks like after the 3 May election, it must back this National Food Security Strategy with immediate action.

Australia must think of its agriculture and food system as an interconnected food security ecosystem, as opposed to a fragmented supply chain. Similarly, the importance of food security at a departmental and ministerial level must be elevated as a national security priority. To achieve this, the Department of Agriculture, Fisheries and Forestry should be established as the lead agency responsible for the food system and food security preparedness, its minister should become a full permanent member of the National Security Committee, and its secretary should be included in the Secretaries Committee on National Security.

This green paper’s 14 policy recommendations are a call to action: Australia must implement a National Food Security Strategy with preparedness as its immediate starting point, and with the urgency that our deteriorating strategic circumstances demand.

Unlike China’s flotilla, the Great White Fleet came in friendship

When the US Navy’s Great White Fleet sailed into Sydney Harbour in 1908, it was an unmistakeable signal of imperial might, a flexing of America’s newfound naval muscle. More than a century later, the Chinese navy has been executing its own form of gunboat diplomacy by circumnavigating Australia—but without a welcome. The similarities and differences between these episodes tell us a lot about the new age of empires in which Australia now finds itself.

Both were shows of force. The former expressed President Teddy Roosevelt’s foreign policy of speaking softly while carrying a big stick—the original version of peace through strength—while the latter aimed at disturbing the peace.

The Great White Fleet’s visit was a spectacle. Australians cheered as 16 gleaming battleships, painted white and with shiny trim, paraded into Sydney Harbour. A flight of steps, the Fleet Steps, was specially built in the Royal Botanic gardens to receive the American visitors.

The visit was a calculated diplomatic manoeuvre by Prime Minister Alfred Deakin in making the invitation and by US President Teddy Roosevelt in accepting it. Both Australia, a young federation deeply tied to the British Empire, and the United States, a rising but not yet super power, saw value in signalling US Pacific presence to Japan.

For Roosevelt, the fleet also presented his big-stick foreign policy to European nations: the US had arrived as a global power. Just as important, he saw the fleet’s world tour as helpful in explaining to the American people why they needed to spend money on defence, including ships, as their country opened up to global opportunities but also threats. Deterrence, preparation, social licence all strengthened national resilience.

Deakin saw the chance and didn’t just invite the fleet to Australia but engineered the visit. He wanted the visit to kindle the notion in Australia that it should have its own fleet. Irregular Royal Navy deployments to the Far East could not guarantee Australian security.

Also like Roosevelt, Deakin knew that a passive approach to defence policy would not keep the nation safe in an era of rising military powers, with a strategic shift to proactive engagement needed urgently, not only once a crisis had begun. He was especially concerned about Japan’s growing sea power but, again like Roosevelt, he also had an eye on Russian and (later) German sea power.

While Deakin wanted a national navy and was an empire man, he thought it prudent to start building a partnership with the US. Not yet replacing Britain as global leader, it had burst on to the strategic scene only a decade earlier. It had annexed the Philippines in 1898 in the Spanish-American War and, in the same year, the Hawaiian Islands. These made the US a Pacific power.

Both men in the early 1900s understood the connection between European and Pacific security and both set out to protect their national interests by working together against European and Asian powers seeking to create instability and spheres of influence.

As Russell Parkins well describes in Great White Fleet to Coral Sea, Deakin noted in one of his written invitations to the US that ‘No other Federation in the world possesses so many features of likeness to that of the United States as does the Commonwealth of Australia’. Roosevelt later acknowledged he had not originally planned for the fleet to visit Australia but that Deakin’s invitation had confirmed his ‘hearty admiration for, and fellow feeling with, Australia, and I believe that America should be ready to stand back of Australia in any serious emergency’.

This was naval might wielded with soft edges: immense firepower floating on the harbour, and friendly chats over tea ashore.

Today the strategic environment again involves European and Asian powers—Russia and China—seeking spheres of influence, only the dynamics of the naval visit couldn’t be more different. No time for afternoon tea, just the reality that Australia faces a security threat from Beijing that demands national preparedness and international friendships and alliances.

When Australia and China encounter each other at sea, the interactions are adversarial, accompanied by dangerous Chinese manoeuvres, high-powered lasers shining into cockpits, chaff dropped into Australian aircraft engines and sonar injuring Australian navy divers. These are not friendly port calls but dangerous military activities and displays of coercive statecraft.

The Great White Fleet sought goodwill and alliances. China’s naval behaviour is an assertion of dominance. If the Australian public were in any doubt about how Beijing intended to interact with the region, China’s behaviour in this most recent episode should be instructive. The lack of warning given to Australia was a warning itself of what is to come. Beijing wants us to heed it and submit.

We must not submit. We must learn from the incident and change Beijing’s behaviour.

When a Chinese naval flotilla last made a port call to Sydney, in 2019, it was met with some public unease, if not alarm. Australia had, after all, approved the visit. But through a combination of Canberra’s ignorance of history and Beijing’s aim of rewriting it, the visit was approved without recognising that it coincided with the 30th anniversary of the Tiananmen Square massacre.

Not long after the negotiated port visit, China suspended ministerial-level engagement as part of coercion to bring Australia into line. Despite some warming in relations in recent years, Beijing chose not to give Australia advance notice of live-fire exercises. The same Beijing that only a few years ago gave notice of a visit now has the confidence to fire at will.

Australia must stop being surprised by every new Chinese military or hybrid warfare development. Beijing’s confidence is growing in all domains, including cyberspace. With intrusions known as Volt Typhoon, China’s intelligence agencies were outed in 2023 as having pre-positioned malware for disrupting and destroying our critical infrastructure. This should also be seen as a rehearsal for later cyber moves.

And now, for the first time in the modern era, we have seen a potential adversary rehearse its wartime kinetic strategy against Australia. Yes, the Japanese did surveillance and intelligence gathering before World War II, but this circumnavigation with live-fire exercises takes us well beyond intelligence collection. Beijing has been undertaking ‘intelligence preparation of the battlespace’ for some time with ships it frequently sends to Australian waters to observe our exercises or to conduct oceanographic studies (which improve submarine operations).

Just as the Great White Fleet helped to inspire the development of an Australian navy, the Chinese flotilla should warn us that our own fleet needs to be larger and ready to assure our security. The rhyme of history is that distant fleets operating in Australian waters matter and should spur our own thinking (and act as catalysts for action) regarding Australian sovereign capabilities.

After all, these episodes underscore an enduring truth about Australia’s geopolitical reality: we are a regional power situated between global hegemons and their very large navies. One could even say that we are girt by sea power. But this is not new territory; it is the blessing and burden of geography and history.

Whether it was navigating the transitions from British to American primacy in the Pacific or more recently adjusting to China’s challenge to the US-led order, Australia has always had to manage its strategic relationships with agility and nuance.

The key difference, of course, is that Australia welcomed the Great White Fleet in 1908 with open arms. Today, Australia finds itself on the receiving end of an unwelcome presence by ships that appear uninterested in friendly port visits. This demands a response that is not reckless but is firm enough to avoid being feckless.

Although the position is difficult, the Australian government should not think it must walk a tightrope in dealing with China. The strength of response to Beijing’s aggression should depend on the minimum needed to deter more aggression, not by a perceived maximum that will leave trade and diplomatic relations unharmed. European countries have made such mistakes in handling Russia—declining to hold it to account in the hope that Putin would keep selling gas to them and delay military action.

There’s no use in pretending or hoping there is nothing to see here except one-off instances of unpleasant behaviour. China’s aggression follows its concept of dealing with the rest of the world, and it won’t stop. Quiet diplomacy won’t deter Beijing from more dangerous behaviour but will embolden it to repeat its actions. Each instance will show Australia is incapable of doing anything about it until Beijing—mistakenly or intentionally—goes so far as to make conflict inevitable. Australia’s time to stand up cannot wait until a live fire drill becomes just live fire.

As Teddy Roosevelt put it, big-stick foreign policy involves ‘the exercise of intelligent forethought and of decisive action sufficiently far in advance of any likely crisis’. Navigating the best response to aggression therefore requires clarity about what is at stake.

What Australia does in the South China Sea—where it operates in accordance with international law alongside allies—is not equivalent to China’s recent foray into the Tasman Sea. Beijing’s actions represent yet another demonstration of reckless behaviour, following its dangerous harassment of Australian forces. By making various attacks—with lasers, chaff or sonar—China shows an undeniable pattern of attempted intimidation. When Australia sails into international waters, we do so to maintain the rules-based order and promote regional stability, yet when China does the same it is often to undermine the rules and destabilise the region.

The intimidation is in fact regional; it’s not just about Australia. Just as the Great White Fleet demonstrated America’s arrival as a Pacific power, China’s naval activities signal Beijing’s intent to reshape the region’s strategic balance. Australia, as it has done before, must adapt. It must spend more on its own defence capabilities, deepen relationships with like-minded democracies and maintain the diplomatic dexterity that has long supported its survival in a world of rising and falling empires.

Most importantly, the government must bring the Australian public along for the voyage. The threat from China should surprise Australians no more than the threat from Putin should surprise Europeans.

Knowledge is power and the Australian public can be empowered, and therefore prepared, not to be shell-shocked by China’s aggression. It should instead be reassured that the Australian government has the situation in hand and that defence investment is a downpayment on our future security. It should be reassured that the spending makes conflict less likely.

Australia is not a major power, but we have the world’s 13th largest economy and are not without influence. We should stop seeing ourselves as a middling middle power. We definitely shouldn’t act as a small power. We should be confident as a regional power. Our voice, actions and choices matter at home and abroad. It’s why Washington wants us as an active partner and Beijing wants us to be a silent one. Australia’s global advocacy for a rules-based system, and its public calling out of Beijing’s wrongdoing have been highly valued in Europe, Asia and North America.

Smaller regional countries rely on us to stand up to Beijing where they feel unable, while Europe increasingly knows the fight against Russia is also a fight against Russia’s ‘no-limits’ partner, China. And an Australia that stands up for itself and our friends will again demonstrate the value of partnerships to our ally the US.

Roosevelt’s Great White Fleet epitomised show of force as a means to deter conflict as well as preparation should deterrence fail. (Its cruise was also an exercise in long-range deployment.) The time for deterrence and preparation is with us once again. A Chinese foreign ministry spokesperson said this month that China was ready for war, ‘be it a tariff war, a trade war or any other type of war, we’re ready to fight till the end.’

We need to show, along with our ally the US and other partners, that war is not what we want but is something we are prepared for. If we cannot show that we have a capable stick, and the intention to use it if required, we will be defeated with or without a fight.

As Teddy Roosevelt said: ‘Peace is a great good; and doubly harmful, therefore, is the attitude of those who advocate it in terms that would make it synonymous with selfish and cowardly shrinking from warring against the existence of evil.’

The past tells us that navigating strategic competition requires a blend of strategic foresight and political agility. The echoes of 1908 should serve as both warning and guidepost for the uncertain waters ahead.

Bookshelf: the evolution and future of amphibious warfare

2027 may still not be the year of war it’s been prophesised as, but we only have two years left to prepare. Regardless, any war this decade in the Indo-Pacific will be fought with the equipment already in hand. The most impactful thing we can do now is educate the minds of those who will be called upon to fight in it.

The second volume of On Contested Shores, on the history and future of amphibious operations, arrived last year early enough to make such an impact. Edited by Timothy Heck, Brett Friedman and Walker Mills, this work builds off the goals of the previous volume: broadening the knowledge of amphibious operations beyond just such famous landings as Gallipoli or Normandy. The editors and chapter authors cover a breadth of both time and geography and also cover the various forms of amphibious operations and dive deeper into critical, but often overlooked, aspects to each.

The structure is an improvement on the previous volume, organised this time by themes instead of chronologically. It is also more readable than the first collection, which on occasion drifted into the familiar problem of historians writing for historians. This volume is aimed squarely at operational units, with professional military students also in mind. The thematic focus helps the reader and enables the strongest chapters to hit harder. Some chapters offer long-winded prose, but most of the work is focused on educating marines, sailors, soldiers and airmen.

Perhaps one of the most important themes in the book is the repeated insistence that logistics matters. As Walker Mills argues in his chapter, ‘logistics in the Pacific define what is possible’. Both his and Christopher Menking’s chapters remind us that while the movie reels focus on the rifles and raising the flag, wars are fights of logistics. The fact we now hear the phrase ‘contested logistics’ bandied about so frequently suggests just how lazy and comfortable we have become. Perhaps this is why the United States Marine Corps (USMC), accustomed to scraps and doing more with less, seems further ahead than the other services in recognising the problem.

Anyone who has struggled against the military acquisitions process will recognise echoes in Jerry Strahan’s chapter on the ordeal of developing the Higgins landing boat and Douglas Nash’s chapter discussing how the alligator tracked vehicles were first married up with the landing ship tank. Both chapters illustrate the challenges in turning good ideas into a real platform, but also the innovation and doggedness with which designers and commanders have always met these obstacles.

The First Island Chain, an archipelago of reefs and jungles which runs through Japan to Indonesia, can be notoriously brutal. But Lance Blyth’s chapter on polar operations comes with the stark reminder that the chain extends well into the high north, where specialised training and equipment are critical to success. In a similar vein, Evan Ota’s chapter reminds us that the residents of the Indo-Pacific are unmatched sources of intelligence and support. As China continues to expand its influence in areas once thought of almost as Western protectorates, it is an overdue reminder that ‘… the cooperation of local security forces on key terrain yielded a decisive advantage for the Allies in the early and uncertain days of the [Pacific] war.’

And perhaps most critically, the volume corrects the oversight of its predecessor with chapters on China. Xiaobing Li provides a focused account on how the Chinese armed forces retook some of Taiwan’s islands in the mid-20th century. Edward Salo, meanwhile, details how the Chinese navy’s marines are equipped and structured, highlighting similarities with and differences from the USMC. We should remember, however, that the Chinese army would carry most of the load in an invasion of Taiwan.

Premature claims of the end of large-scale amphibious operations are cited in both volumes of On Contested Shores. Flag officers and statesmen alike have repeatedly dismissed them as too costly, and yet marines, armies and naval infantry continue to be called upon to fight ashore from the sea. This is because regardless of how bloody amphibious operations have and will always be, they are a military necessity.

One of the more enjoyable moments in my career came years ago when, as a major, I got to correct a deputy commander at then Pacific Command. He was expounding on the nature of operations in the region when he misspoke, ‘You have to remember, 70 percent of Asia is water’.

‘Actually, sir, 100 percent of Asia is land,’ I said.

He didn’t enjoy being corrected, but the fact remains: planes have to land and ships have to port somewhere. People live on the land, and politicians will continue to call upon their militaries to fight to protect or to dominate them there. And so, the latest work edited by Heck, Friedman and Mills is a welcome addition to the study of anyone who needs to prepare to execute amphibious operations.

Centring people of colour to close the climate justice gap

Australia must do more to empower communities of colour in its response to climate change.

In late February, the Multicultural Leadership Initiative hosted its Our Common Future summits in Sydney and Melbourne. These summits focused on the importance of multicultural climate advocacy, the disproportionate impact of climate change on people of colour and the need to build climate resilience at a grassroots level.

These summits brought together a range of First Nations, Pasifika, people of colour, and culturally and linguistically diverse advocates and stakeholders. The need for a conference of this nature is clear: although climate change threatens us all, people of colour are often marginalised within mainstream climate-change discourse. As highlighted by Minister for Climate Change Chris Bowen in his keynote speech at the Sydney summit, we need to dispel the myth that climate change is only ‘a concern for inner-city Anglo-Celtic elites’.

The inclusion of people of colour in this conversation is an ethical imperative, as climate change often disproportionately affects people of colour. In Western Sydney, for example, more than half of the population speaks a language other than English at home and the proportion of low-income earners is higher than the rest of Sydney. This area is typically six to 10 degrees hotter than the rest of the city during extreme heat events. These events therefore pose a significant challenge to low-income migrants with English as a second language, who often lack access to quality healthcare and housing.

This is also evident in developing countries. Although the Global South contributes a relatively small amount to global greenhouse gas emissions, these countries are on the frontline of climate change. One only has to look at international headlines to see the severity of climate disasters, including floods in South Asia and rising sea levels in Pacific island countries such as Tuvalu.

These are not one-off events. They are emblematic of a broader trend of climate injustice: rich, developed countries are doing relatively little to respond to climate events, despite contributing more to climate change. In her report to the General Assembly, UN special rapporteur E Tendayi Achiume highlighted that ‘discrimination at the core of environmental and climate justice’ means that ‘race, ethnicity and national origin continue to result in the unjust enrichment of some, and the utter exploitation … and even death of others’.

International climate negotiation forums have also faced criticism for marginalising specific racial groups. At COP26 in 2021, many African voices were underrepresented due to limited funding and difficulty securing Covid-19 vaccines, both of which were necessary for in-person participation. This undermined the ability of African advocates to highlight the severity of domestic climate effects, such as prolonged drought in Zambia, which left about one million people in need of food assistance in 2021.

If Australia and Pacific island countries are successful in their joint bid to host COP31 in 2026, Australia will have the opportunity to address these inequities in climate negotiations. Discussions must focus on improving climate financing for the Global South, especially countries that are industrialising and therefore need access to energy sources. As green energy solutions are often costly, uptake in developing countries will require financial support from wealthier, developed countries.

Centring communities of colour within the climate movement will also help build grassroots resilience to climate impacts. As seen during the Covid-19 pandemic, governments often struggle to reach multicultural Australians, especially community members with limited English language proficiency or those who are recent arrivals. As climate effects become more frequent and severe, empowering multicultural community leaders to act as climate spokespeople at a grassroots level will improve Australia’s broader climate resilience.

While governments have traditionally relied on directly translating messages into community languages, multicultural leaders can more effectively influence their respective communities. Religious leaders, business owners, youth leaders and other prominent figures in multicultural communities are best placed to distil climate messaging.

Community leaders can tangibly illustrate the impacts of climate change on the wellbeing of multicultural communities. For example, they could point to increasingly common pollution-related health effects and highlight the effect of climate change on grocery and fuel prices.

During climate disasters, such as floods, bushfires and cyclones, these same community leaders are already well-placed to conduct tailored outreach to community members in line with government messaging, building community resilience.

Centralising the voices of communities of colour in the climate movement is integral to building national resilience and addressing the disproportionate effects of climate change on people of colour. The Multicultural Leadership Initiative’s summits in Sydney and Melbourne were the first of their kind, shedding light on issues faced by many in the multicultural climate advocacy space. The conference paved an optimistic path forward by finally centring people of colour as autonomous and empowered actors within the climate movement.

To fight disinformation, treat it as an insurgency

We need to treat disinformation as we deal with insurgencies, preventing the spreaders of lies from entrenching themselves in the host population through capture of infrastructure—in this case, the social media outlets.

Combining targeted action with efforts to build resilience in the population, counterinsurgencies offer valuable lessons for the construction of a longer-term, society-wide plan to combat online disinformation. If we don’t win this campaign, we could suffer severe setbacks in strategic competition and risk the radicalisation of future generations.

Efforts to combat disinformation must focus on the issue’s centre of gravity: social media companies and their ability to hide behind free speech protections to evade responsibility for content on their platforms.

In their book on the future of terrorism, Christopher Wall and the late Walter Laqueur write that ‘terrorism is not an exogenous feature of the modern nation-state but rather a symptom of bad governance.’ This points to the importance of active government roles in preventing emergence of safe havens where digital insurgencies exploit enforcement vacuums.

Our response should focus on shoring up digital governance systems. In many Western countries, such action is underway. The 2022 EU Digital Services Act, for instance, threatens significant fines against social media companies that fail to adhere to European data laws. Australia’s eSafety commissioner, meanwhile, has publicly feuded with X over content moderation decisions.

Ironically, the United States, where many major social media platforms originated, lags behind. The US regulatory conversation increasingly swirls around Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act, a 1990s law that protects social media companies from liability over content on their sites. Bipartisan teams of politicians now routinely collaborate in seeking to end the protections. In my own work, I have called for precisely such a move, which would at least force social media companies to rethink their absolute protection of free speech.

In tandem with efforts to build more sustainable governance structures, counterinsurgencies also kinetically target leaders of insurgent movements and ideologies. In the disinformation counterinsurgency, content moderation replaces military action. This involves takedowns of particularly egregious violators, for example through removal of specific content or even outright access bans for repeat offenders. Such measures are essential in keeping notorious peddlers on the defensive and limit their reach. Many companies, including the behemoths Meta and X, are instead moving in the opposite direction and loosening moderation standards, opening the door for foreign disinformation campaigns.

More heavy-handed efforts to alter the digital battlefield by better policing social media companies and removing individual purveyors of disinformation would, however, fall short without measures to build resilience within the target population—perhaps the defining tenet of counterinsurgency. Such measures, often mockingly described as winning hearts and minds, are essential.

Successful insurgencies—the Viet Cong in Vietnam, for instance, or the more recent Hayat Tahrir al-Sham blitzkrieg in Syria—have survived and eventually triumphed by ingratiating into local communities. They serve as de facto governments in their regions and earn the local population’s trust. Eventually, that population protects the insurgents from prying eyes.

In her commendable Strategist article, my colleague at the Irregular Warfare Initiative, Meg Tapia, blamed ‘the malicious actors and networks creating harmful content’ as the root cause of disinformation, advocating for an organised-crime approach.  Tapia’s contention, however, seems to overlook the important role of digital consumers.

Countering disinformation online requires addressing both supply and demand. Not only must counterinsurgents address the prevalence of lies online; they must also consider why untrue or plainly misleading content remains so attractive.

Describing future wars, US army Lieutenant General William B Caldwell reflected that ‘the allegiance, trust and confidence of populations will be the final arbiters of success,’ indicating that governance and content moderation standards might be unsuccessful without deeper efforts to build resilience to disinformation within targeted communities.

Democracies must highlight the virtues of their systems and rally against autocratic and authoritarian movements around the world and give digital denizens the tools to better protect themselves from disinformation. The most sustainable inroads will be made by online users themselves, employing counterinsurgency’s local-forces approach to defend against harmful content. For example, certain states on the frontlines of the disinformation battlefield, such as Lithuania, have created both state-sponsored and civilian-run fact-checking networks to counter disinformation in real time.

Today, state purveyors of disinformation operate in an environment more susceptible to their tactics than at any moment since the end of World War II. In the US, for example, polling has suggested Republicans trust Russian President Vladimir Putin over former US president Joe Biden, and that nearly half of Republicans support a drawdown in NATO support. These results would have been unthinkable at any point in the Cold War. Iran, meanwhile, has freely dispatched pro-Hamas and pro-Hezbollah narratives onto US college campuses.

Such infiltrations by our adversaries pose significant risks to both strategic competition and the digital health of future generations. Only a whole-of-society counterinsurgency approach will mount an adequate response.

The surprise of the Independent Intelligence Review: economic security

After copping criticism for not releasing the report for nearly eight months, Prime Minister Anthony Albanese released the Independent Intelligence Review on 28 March. It makes for a heck of a read. The review makes 67 sweeping recommendations to overhaul Australia’s National Intelligence Community (NIC) on everything from legislation to oversight, open-source intelligence and investment.

But hidden in plain sight in the review is a surprising recommendation that Treasury lead a review relating to ‘economic security’.

That’s a surprise because Australia hasn’t really talked about economic security before. There isn’t a federal policy on achieving economic security, our ministers don’t address economic security in press releases, and it remains a bit of a foreign concept in Parliament.

The review doesn’t stop there. Authors Heather Smith and Richard Maude—both well-known figures in Canberra—say their ‘consultations suggest that more holistic and structural changes across the public service are required’. Two more key recommendations were to establish a dedicated economic security unit inside Treasury and embed members of the NIC in economic security policymaking.

One wonders why the government hasn’t done this already.

It’s because Australia’s security has historically been about its military. As an island nation in the Indo-Pacific, we’ve been forced to use our privileged location to achieve political and diplomatic advantage. We’ve had defence white papers for decades calling for more spending, more alliances, more things. Look no further than the 2023 Defence Strategic Review. Australia’s security was said to be linked to our alliance with the United States and achieving force projection, meaning spending billions of dollars on long-range missiles and nuclear-powered submarines.

Now, it seems the government has finally stopped thinking military power alone will cut it in this degrading geopolitical environment.

In his budget speech, Treasurer Jim Chalmers seemed to glibly admit that ‘in these uncertain times, economic security and national security are increasingly intertwined’. His Future Made in Australia Act, passed in December last year, is the first specific mention of economic security by the Commonwealth ever. The National Reconstruction Fund has finally started handing out some of its $15 billion of investment funding.

But we have a lot more work to do.

A 2024 report by the United States Studies Centre shows that Australia is well behind our closest allies. We don’t conduct outbound investment screening, as the US does, or ban investments with entities that could compromise our research and development, as Canada does. Our investment review bodies don’t seem to have actual teeth like the ones in Britain do, and unlike Japan we don’t have an economic security law.

Don’t forget, a former treasurer (advised by our Foreign Investment Review Board) took no action against a 99-year lease given to Chinese company Landbridge to operate the Port of Darwin. That decision is still haunting the corridors in Canberra today.

Australia needs leadership on economic security and it needs it now, or certainly after the election.

We need to beef up our existing legislation to protect Australian investment from both internal and external threats to our economic security. We don’t even need new levers; we just need to use the ones we have. In the past, we have arguably prioritised investment over security, instead of attracting investments that offer both. For those that we deem contrary to foreign policy, our foreign minister already has the power to cancel any foreign agreements—they just haven’t wanted to.

The Foreign Investment Review Board needs to be given the teeth—and, more importantly, the political capital—to make hard decisions about investment in Australia. The current review of the board is a fantastic opportunity change our inbound and outbound investment framework. Making the board independent from Treasury would go a long way to achieving that, as would a broader ability for it to call in and review investments that could pose security risks, rather than await applications.

More broadly, the NIC needs to be integrated not just with Treasury, but with industry and academia, where technological breakthroughs fuelling our economic growth are being made every day. Having a dedicated economic security policy would probably help too. And we can do all of that without resorting to protectionist or xenophobic responses such as banning whole countries from doing business.

Economic security is not a new concept, but we are definitely late to the party. Hopefully, no matter which government is elected in May, economic security doesn’t prove to be just another election buzzword.