Tag Archive for: Australian Army

Australia’s defences must be ready in two years. Here’s what to do

Beijing deployed a naval task group to the waters around Australia for three related reasons. First, to demonstrate the reach and potency of Chinese sea power and to put Australia on notice that it is vulnerable to the application of that power. Second, to test our political and military responses. Third, to rehearse for wartime operations against Australia.

Regarding the last, the deployment was most likely a rehearsal run for the conduct of a seaborne missile strike on Australia, with China testing how it might most effectively launch missile strikes on Australian military facilities and critical national infrastructure.

The task group was led by a powerful cruiser that was equipped with 112 missile cells from which long-range land attack cruise missiles could be launched at targets across Australia.

In wartime, such an operation would be conducted by an even larger and better protected surface action task group, most probably consisting of the same type of cruiser, one or two escorting destroyers, one or two submarines and a replenishment tanker. The mission of the task group would be to fight through any opposing, mainly Australian, forces to get into optimal firing positions in the waters around Australia.

China would assume that in any plausible scenario where it might need to launch such an attack against Australia—as part of a broader US-China war—scarce US naval and air units almost certainly would be heavily engaged elsewhere in the broader Indo-Pacific region and therefore its attacking force would be able to fight through light, mainly Australian, defending forces.

This is not to say that our treaty ally, the United States, would not willingly come to our aid in such a scenario. The reality, however, is that in any such war the US would have very little spare capacity to do so.

It is not that we would be abandoned. Rather, the defence of Australia would be prioritised by the US according to the imperatives of the broader fight and we would be expected to do more for ourselves.

China also most likely would undertake air-launched long-range missile strikes against Australia. These would involve long-range missiles being launched by H-6 bombers, which most likely would fire them from the north of Indonesia, beyond the perceived range of Australia’s air defences. Submarines also probably would be sent to attack shipping around Australia, mine our ports and sea lanes and destroy undersea cables.

China’s relatively small number of aircraft carriers means it is unlikely that Australia would be subjected to carrier-borne air raids, but the possibility should not be discounted, especially as the Chinese aircraft carrier fleet grows in strength.

We should not delude ourselves that the deployment was a benign exercise, conducted ‘lawfully’ in international waters—with the underlying imputation being that is simply what great powers do.

Regrettably, this was the theme of the Australian government’s initial response, which could not have been better scripted in Beijing itself.

The deployment was a rehearsal and, at the same time, a menacing attempt at strategic intimidation, designed to increase anxiety in the Australian population about China’s growing military power and fuel domestic doubts about the wisdom of potentially risking conflict with China—for instance, over Taiwan.

This day of reckoning was long coming. Once China decided in the early 2000s to develop a blue-water navy, it was always going to focus some of its attention on our sea-air approaches and our nearby waters. This is because Beijing understands that, as a matter of geostrategic logic, Australia’s size and geographical location would be a valuable wartime asset for the US.

Neutralising that advantage is a key consideration for People’s Liberation Army war planners.

The PLA could not afford to yield to the US uncontested access to such a significant and secure bastion and staging area, where US forces could be concentrated in protected locations out of the reach of most of China’s conventional arsenal and from where devastating US strikes could be mounted on Chinese forces and bases in the littoral areas of East Asia, the Western Pacific and the Indian Ocean.

While it has not taken a definitive decision to go to war, China has moved into a rehearsal phase for such a conflict. It is determined to give itself the option of fighting and winning a war against the US and its allies. It therefore has to test all of its operational plans, including the neutralisation of Australia’s wartime utility.

We are not special in this regard. China is rehearsing its war plans across the entire Pacific—including in relation to establishing sea control in the littoral rim of East Asia, from Japan to Indonesia, denying US sea and air access to that littoral rim, holding at risk US carrier strike groups and bases, such as Guam, and striking at more distant US staging areas, such as Alaska, Hawaii and Australia.

PLA war planning calculations have nothing to do with the tone or the content of the bilateral Australia-China relationship. They are a function of the hard-headed judgments that PLA war planners need to make. We could have a perfectly ‘stabilised’ relationship, with copious quantities of Australian wine and lobster flowing into Chinese ports, and still be on the PLA’s strike list.

Unfortunately, our response to the deployment was shaped principally by those whose focus is obsessively fixed on the state of the bilateral relationship rather than by those who are paid to think and advise in geostrategic terms.

We should expect more such demonstrations of power projection by China, using not only surface vessels but also submarines, carrier strike groups and H-6 bombers. Such power projection is commonplace around the rimlands and littoral regions of Eurasia, where Chinese, Russian and, increasingly, combined Chinese-Russian operations are mounted frequently against the US (including around Alaska and off Hawaii), Canada, Britain, Japan, Taiwan, The Philippines and others. We have much to learn from these allies and partners in terms of how they deal with such frequent and persistent Chinese and Russian visitors.

Until now Australia has been located safely away from this contact zone of Eurasia, with only Imperial Germany before WWI and Imperial Japan in the early years of the Pacific war of 1941-45 darkening our frontiers.

Today we are no longer protected by distance. Thankfully, there is a ready-made solution to this geostrategic problem. Ever since Kim Beazley commissioned Paul Dibb in February 1985 to conduct a review of Australia’s defence capabilities, the cardinal importance of defending Australia’s sea-air approaches has been at the core of defence planning, even if the requisite capabilities and level of funding required to carry out the resultant military strategy have never fully materialised.

For 40 years, Australian defence planning has been founded on the idea of defending our area of direct military interest, which extends well beyond the continent and the immediate waters around Australia. This means seeking to deny to an adversary the ability to successfully move into and through the sea-air approaches to Australia.

It also means achieving and maintaining sea control in key areas in the waters around Australia. Our strategy is to turn the vast archipelagic arc that extends from the waters to the west of Sumatra to those around Fiji into a great strategic barrier through which any adversary would have to move to attack Australia.

Once this geostrategic logic is understood, much else falls into place—for instance, why it is that Australia could not allow itself to be outflanked to the northeast by the establishment of Chinese bases in the South Pacific, which would represent a catastrophic penetration of the barrier.

In the same way that US president John Kennedy could not tolerate Soviet missiles in Cuba in 1962, we could not tolerate Chinese missile units or bombers having access to bases in the South Pacific.

The geography of this barrier is such that the sea-air approaches to Australia naturally funnel ships and submarines into a small number of chokepoints. When exploited well, chokepoints favour the defender. They create killing zones where attacking forces can be destroyed before they can do harm.

Australian defence planning also has to contemplate more distant operations, forward of the barrier, including in the South China Sea and in the southern portions of the Central Pacific (for instance, in the Guam-Bismarck Sea corridor) to attrite advancing adversary forces even before they reach the chokepoints.

While we have the strategy, which was given its clearest expression in the 1987 and 2009 defence white papers and has been honed across 40 years since Dibb’s landmark report, we do not have the full suite of capabilities or the mindset to execute the strategy in the face of the gathering storm.

We need to be ready by early 2027—which appears to be the earliest time that China will be ready to launch a military operation against Taiwan, which in turn may trigger a wider war.

Of course, assumptions about whether and when China would do such a thing need to be kept under constant review. In strategy, everything is contingent and nothing is inevitable. If it is to come, war will break out whether we are ready or not. Having missed our chance more than 15 years ago to properly start to prepare—when dark prophesies of a possible war first emerged—we now have to do what we can in the time we have. We should urgently do the following things, which are over and above what has been decided by successive Australian governments, most recently in response to the 2023 Defence Strategic Review.

1. Enhance surveillance

First, we must enhance the continuous wide-area surveillance of our area of direct military interest. We must be able to pinpoint the precise locations and track the movement of Chinese (and Russian) ships, submarines and aircraft of interest as far from Australia as possible. This will require the more intensive use and meshing together of the sensor feeds from national intelligence systems, space-based sensors, the Jindalee radar network, P-8 Poseidon maritime surveillance aircraft, MQ-4C Triton surveillance drones, E-7 Wedgetail airborne early warning and control aircraft, undersea sensors and other assets.
A fused situational picture of key Chinese and Russian movements in our area of direct military interest should be developed and shared in real time with US Indo-Pacific Command in Hawaii in exchange for its fused picture of the same. This will require more resources to support 24/7 operations in the Australian Defence Force and the relevant intelligence agencies. Wide-area surveillance of our area of direct military interest cannot be a business-hours activity.

2. Lift operational readiness

Second, we must enhance ADF operational readiness, which means having more forces standing ready to undertake quick alert missions, such as air interceptions and maritime surveillance flights.

This will cost money and drain crews as they will fatigue more rapidly when kept at higher states of readiness. More assertive rules of engagement should be authorised by the defence minister to allow for the close shadowing of Chinese and Russian units in our area of direct military interest. This would be done in a safe and professional manner, as it is being done nearly every other day by our allies and partners who are being probed regularly at sea and in the air.

The ADF’s Joint Operations Command should be reconfigured along the lines of the original vision of defence force chief General John Baker, who in 1996 established the Australian Theatre Command, or COMAUST. Baker’s logic was that the ADF should be postured, and commanded, principally to conduct operations in Australia’s area of direct military interest. While operations farther afield would be undertaken from time to time, they should not be the main focus of the ADF. After 9/11, the ADF adopted a globalist orientation. Mastery of the area of direct military interest started to fall away.

It is time for the ADF to focus zealously once again on the defence of Australia’s area of direct military interest, and our national military command arrangements and systems should reflect this.

3. Acquire longer-range anti-surface warfare capabilities

Third, we must urgently acquire longer-range anti-surface warfare capabilities. A radical suggestion would be to acquire rapidly six to 10 B-1B Lancer bombers from the US Air Force’s inventory. B-1Bs have been configured in recent years for anti-ship strike missions. Each is now able to carry 36 Long Range Anti-Ship Missiles (24 internally in bomb bays and 12 externally), which is a fearsome anti-surface capability. While the RAAF already is acquiring the LRASM weapon for use by its F/A-18F Super Hornets, having a platform in the order of battle with the range and payload capacity of the B-1B Lancer would severely impair PLA options for mounting surface action missions against Australia.

4. Acquire longer-range air superiority capability

Fourth, we must urgently acquire a longer-range air superiority capability to deal with the threat of stand-off attacks by PLA Air Force H-6 bombers operating north of Indonesia. Again, a radical suggestion would be to acquire rapidly the air-to-air version of the SM-6 missile to equip the RAAF’s F/A-18F Super Hornet fighters. Facing such fighters, especially if they were operating forward of the barrier, would make PLA planners think twice about mounting long-range bomber missions against Australia.

5. Remediate naval warfare capability

Fifth, we urgently need to remediate our naval warfare capability, to ensure that our battle fleet of six Collins-class submarines and 10 major surface combatants (the Hobart and Anzac classes) are fully crewed and ready for action.

This will require crewing, training, inventory and maintenance issues to be addressed. The RAN’s replenishment tankers need to be fixed and returned to the fleet as soon as possible. Across time, the RAN battle fleet will need to grow in size, given the rapid growth in the PLA Navy’s battle fleet.

Ideally, we should be aiming across the longer term for a battle fleet of 12 submarines, 20 major surface combatants and 20 smaller offshore combatants, the last of which could be used as missile corvettes and naval mine warfare vessels. To further enhance the RAN’s battle fleet, our large landing helicopter dock vessels should be re-purposed as sea control carriers, with embarked anti-submarine and airborne early warning helicopters and long-range naval drones.

6. Ensure RAAF is battle ready

Sixth, we need to ensure that the RAAF is battle ready, with its squadrons fully crewed and its air bases well protected and fully functional. It is relatively easier to expand an air force, as compared with a navy, given the vagaries of naval shipbuilding. The RAAF is therefore the better bet in terms of a rapid expansion that could be achieved soonest.

More F-35 Lightning II fighters should be acquired, along with the B-1B Lancers mentioned already. The latter could serve as an interim bomber, pending reconsideration of the acquisition of the B-21 Raider strategic bomber. Crewing ratios should be increased quickly, such that the RAAF has more crews than aircraft, which could then be flown more intensively. The extraordinarily rapid expansion of the RAAF’s aircrew training pipeline in World War II should be its guiding vision.

7. Push forward army’s maritime capability

Seventh, the army should continue to develop its increasingly impressive maritime warfare capabilities and readiness. Consideration should be given to the rapid acquisition of the ground-based Typhon missile system, which would give the army a long-range anti-ship and land strike capability. As we barricade the sea-air approaches to Australia, we will have to be vigilant in relation to stealthy commando raids and sabotage operations. The army will need to be postured to deal with such attacks.

8. Address capability gaps

Eighth, we need to remediate a number of other capability gaps where we have no or virtually no capability. Of particular concern is integrated air and missile defence. We will need to acquire some combination of Terminal High Altitude Area Defence (THAAD) and Patriot interceptors on land and SM-3 interceptors at sea. Naval mine warfare capability also needs to be addressed.

There are likely to be other gaps that would impair our ability to execute the strategy. Given the urgency of the situation, rapidly acquired interim solutions will have to suffice to fill many of these gaps. Such interim solutions can be refined and built on. That is the lesson of the Russo-Ukrainian war.

9. Negotiate PNG alliance

Ninth, a military alliance should be negotiated with Papua New Guinea to provide for the establishment of ADF bases in locations such as Manus, Rabaul and Lae to support the conduct of maritime surveillance, anti-surface, anti-submarine, and air superiority missions. For instance, a forward-deployed composite RAAF wing, consisting of F-35A Lightning fighters, B-1B Lancers armed with LRASM, F/A-18F Super Hornets armed with SM-6 missiles, and P-8 Poseidon maritime aircraft could operate from the Bismarck to the Celebes seas and beyond with the aim of denying access into our northern sea-air approaches. A similar alliance should be negotiated with The Philippines. This would extend our coverage north of the barrier into the South China Sea.

We need to better appreciate the significance of PNG and the Philippines as Pacific watchtowers of the sea-air approaches to Australia. Our Indian Ocean territories are our western watchtowers.

10. Develop a war book

Tenth, we should urgently reinstate the practice of developing a war book that would deal with civil defence, national cyber defence, the protection of critical infrastructure and the general protection, and sustainment of the population during times of war.

 

While the likelihood of war in the foreseeable future is low, perhaps 10 to 20 per cent, it is enough to warrant action. This will cost money and divert resources from more agreeable activities. That is the nature of war, which drains societies even when it does not occur. Against this must be weighed the costs of being unprepared.

While this worsening strategic environment is very confronting, there is an even darker scenario. Imagine if we had to face a coercive, belligerent, and unchecked China on our own. That would require a very different military strategy and a significantly larger ADF.

That is a grim story for another day—and one that may require us to pursue our own Manhattan Project. In that world, we would look fondly on this relatively benign age.

On the value of military service

In January, I crossed the milestone of 24 years of service in two militaries—the British and Australian armies. It is fair to say that I am a professional soldier. Soldiering has consumed the whole of my adult life. Indeed, it has been a focus since I first put on an army cadet uniform at the age of twelve.

It is also fair to say that the reputation of my profession is under pressure, particularly since the campaigns in Iraq and Afghanistan. Those wars have challenged the moral foundation of modern soldiering, combining with a sense that the military suffers from a toxic culture, a moral vacuum and poor leadership.

A belief has developed from those campaigns that military service is inherently damaging. This is not unique in history. A similar perspective grew during and after the Vietnam War, one that took a generation to work through.

There is some truth to this negative image of service. I fought in both Iraq and Afghanistan and have written of my own concerns about the morality of the two campaigns. I have seen toxicity in culture and have experienced poor leadership. I have also, at times, likely been guilty of being a poor leader myself.

But this hard truth can exist at the same time as another truth: that I am undoubtedly a better person for my military service. Soldiering has not somehow suppressed my compassion and humanity; it has sharpened them. It has not diluted my values; it has constructed them. It has not fractured my family; it has strengthened us.

Put simply, I wouldn’t be the human I am today without the British and Australian armies.

So, I believe there is deep value in military service. Sometimes this gets lost. My aim in this article is to reflect on and remind of this value. This is not an article about certainty of employment, subsidised housing, or money (although all those certainly helped my family and me to weather wars, the global financial crisis and a pandemic). Instead, I want to talk about the intangibles. The things that really matter. The things that have made me who I am today.

A life of service and purpose

The name ‘military service’ is the right one. ‘Service’ has a dictionary definition of ‘the action of helping or doing work for someone’, and, in military terms, that ‘someone’ is the nation.

The idea of service as being at the core of the military profession is well embedded in history and culture. The rank of sergeant, for example, dates to the 13th century and is traced back to the Latin word serviens, meaning the ‘one who serves’. The motto of the Australian Army is ‘Serving the nation’. The idea of service is at the core of the oath of allegiance of the Australian Army. The mantra of Britain’s Royal Military Academy is famously ‘Serve to lead’.

This is no minor commitment. In 1962, the Australian-born General Sir John Hackett introduced the idea that military service involves a ‘contract of unlimited liability’. Soldiers agree to commit everything to the nation, up to and including sacrificing their own lives and deliberately taking the lives of others. Arguably, there is no profession that matches such a level of commitment. Few soldiers realise the scale of this when they join: it takes a few years, and often a few operations, for it to sink in.

That contract, however, is not a one-way street. You get something remarkable in return: a sense of purpose. There is something special in waking up each morning knowing that my work that day—however hard—will support the defence of the nation and the future security of my children. I have always been paid well as a soldier, but that has never been the point. And I have certainly never worked to make someone else money. I may only nudge the defence of the nation forward an inch on a given day, adding only one more brick to the ramparts, but I will have served, and that has purpose.

Is this worth my death? That is a good question. I have had to ask it several times. So far, the answer has always been ‘yes’. But I am clear that the day it is not, the day I am not willing to accept unlimited liability, is the day I should hang up the uniform. But such a day seems a very long way off, given how much the military has given me so far in terms of service and purpose.

Australian soldiers establish a position after disembarking from a US Army Chinook with Afghan National Security Force partners in Afghanistan, 2012: Department of Defence.

A life guided by values

The second gift of my service has been a life guided by values. Armies have now shaped my values and behaviour for more than 30 years, without doubt the biggest influence on my sense of morality other than my parents. The language used has been pretty consistent. Service. Courage. Excellence. Compassion. Loyalty. Integrity.

None of this has been performative. Far from these ideas being some sort of corporate banner, I have understood from day one that both armies have expected me to live and display the values, tangibly, every day. Nor has this ever been a matter of being in or out of uniform; it is with me 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. Perhaps not everyone sees it that way, but I always have.

Aristotle once said, ‘we are what we repeatedly do’—that we are our habits. So, it’s not surprising that those values are now deeply set. In fact, they reflect from top to bottom, most noticeably in the small things. I find myself being unfailingly polite. I open doors and always let others go first. I find it exceptionally difficult to lie or deceive, at least outside of very necessary deception in combat. I tend to look after others. Leaders eat last, always. Some might consider this all to be just old-fashioned. It certainly makes me a terrible businessman. But I am far happier this way, guided as I am by a clear set of values.

How does this work with violence, which sits at the centre of my profession? It helps square the circle. I have always been scared of becoming inured or desensitised to the violence, comfortable with killing. The values reinforced into me by the army have made sure that never happens.

Yes, it is my job to take life if required, in defence of the nation. But every life has value, and the cost of taking it must always be recognised. As Nietzsche wrote, ‘he who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster.’ The British and Australian armies taught me this. It is not something I can forget.

The camaraderie of leading and following

Armies are hierarchical creatures, so for the past 24 years I have led, and I have followed, in many teams. Being part of this relationship is the best day-to-day aspect of the profession. I have followed some remarkable people. Tank officers and cavalrymen who took me to war with style. Special forces officers who dared, and won. Fiery frigate captains bringing force from the sea. And, most recently, remarkable senior leaders who have given as much as four decades of their lives to service: almost a third of the history of the Commonwealth of Australia.

I have also led soldiers, sailors and aviators, in both war and peace: teams from as small as 11 to as large as 400. Leading has been the greatest privilege of my life. In his excellent book War in Human Civilisation, Azar Gat describes military groups as primary or fraternal groups. They are as close to family as you can get, without being biological family. Gat is entirely right; my service has allowed me to be part of many families, all of them rich and full of characters.

It is true that military command can be a lonely task. One of the joys, however, is that you never do it alone. As an officer you always do it as a team, paired with a senior soldier of suitable experience and character. The accountabilities of command are rightly all yours, but the burdens of command are shared. This is a wonderful model, born of hundreds of years of tradition and experience: one that also leads to lifelong relationships.

Those connections of leading and following go deep. In September last year, I travelled more than 26,000 kilometres from Australia back to Britain for a 10-year reunion of a particularly lively tour of Afghanistan, where I had been the officer in charge of a 130-strong unit for a nine-month stint. I was in Britain for less than 50 hours. I landed, borrowed my father’s car and by lunchtime was hugging and swapping stories in Warwickshire with the best of men and women.

Sitting in the late autumn sunshine, in a 16th-century English pub in Shakespeare’s county, I couldn’t help but think of how well the Bard captured the feeling of military camaraderie in Henry V; a bond born of shared hardship. Life somehow shone brighter in those nine months in Helmand Province, surrounded by violence and death. As King Henry put it in the play, those days would ‘na’er go by from this day to the ending of the world’ without us remembering them, or each other. We truly were a ‘band of brothers’—and sisters. And, as Shakespeare’s Henry said, ‘He who fought with me that day shall be my brother.’ This was my brotherhood—my family—of Afghanistan veterans.

Three of the family are no longer with us. One was lost on the tour, two in the decade since. But they were there at the reunion, in spirit if not in body. Their photos were carefully laid out on a pub table, resting on our squadron flag. Drinks were bought for them, and glasses raised throughout. Ours is a family for which the phrase ‘we will remember them’ is a promise, not a slogan. Such camaraderie is hard-earned. To be part of it is a privilege.

Tom McDermott in Afghanistan: British Ministry of Defence via author.

Visceral emotions and a true sense of perspective

Over the years, I have thought a lot about visceral emotions, the deep-set, intuitive and powerful ones that strike to your very core. Everyone experiences them at some time: the dual feeling of joy and terror at the birth of your first child, or the feeling of uncertainty and grief when you find that a loved one has died. But true visceral emotions are much rarer than people think.

My service has led to me experiencing many visceral emotions. You might think those were bad, and some were. The terror of hearing a burst of enemy machine-gun fire, followed by a ‘Man down!’ call on the radio. The eviscerating grief of hearing that a comrade is dead. Over the years, I have come to accept those moments as a reality of the profession, just as a doctor must learn to manage death. General William Sherman once said that ‘War is cruelty, and you cannot refine it.’ He is right. One thing I have learned is that two emotions are more dangerous than others: hatred, and disgust. Those are the gateways to revenge, an urge that must be guarded against at all costs.

But those difficult visceral emotions are genuinely offset by the positive ones. The first hug from my wife and then four-year-old daughter after nine months fighting in Afghanistan reached a scale of joy that is difficult to express. The feeling of collective achievement walking out of the back of a Chinook helicopter after a successful operation, the heat of the engines singeing the hairs on the back of my neck. The surge of pride watching one of my brother officers receive a medal from the Queen. Perhaps oddly, those positive emotions include the affirmation of actual combat. Winston Churchill once wrote, ‘nothing in life is so exhilarating as to be shot at without result.’ That is true. The battlefield is the most challenging of human arenas. My experience is that one values life more having endured it.

Those emotions—the good, the bad and the ugly—have had an overall net positive effect. Above all, they have given me perspective. I tend to view life differently now. I have less interest in material things, in the trappings of wealth or success. I am not bothered by the small problems: the traffic, not being able to find a parking space, a lack of phone signal. I am very slow to anger. I am not religious, but I am more spiritual … as the saying goes, ‘There are no atheists in foxholes.’ My use of language has changed. I very rarely use the word ‘hate’; I have felt the glimmers of true hatred, and I know what it really means.

Overall, the idea of a bad day has different context, when you’ve experienced days that are really bad. War has taught me that the Stoics were right, there really are only two things in your control: your thoughts and your actions. War asks you to have the serenity to accept the things you cannot change, the courage to change the things you can, and the wisdom to know the difference. These are lessons you carry for life.

Service, identity and citizenship

The passages above outline (however inadequately) what I have gained from service. The obvious final question though is, ‘Why do you still do it?’ Surely after 24 years, you’ve paid your dues and could do something a little more relaxing? Something a little less burdensome? A little easier on the family?

The simplest answer is that military service is my identity, and has been for more than half my life. I’m not sure how I would go without it. Writing in a different age, Samuel Johnson said, ‘Every man thinks meanly of himself for not having been a soldier.’ I don’t think that is the case today, but I know I certainly feel better for being one. I think identity is the reason why many soldiers find life hard after they leave the military: the niggling loss of the service motive that has underpinned each day in uniform.

But that simple answer isn’t enough. The second and better answer is because I am needed. The world is clearly a more dangerous place than at any time since I started serving in 2001—indeed, perhaps since my grandfather was in uniform in the Second World War. The return of great-power competition heralds a period of tension that could well lead to armed confrontation or war in the Indo-Pacific.

History tells us that we must prepare for the worst, and that a strong and capable military is a vital part of that preparation. I migrated to Australia to secure a better future for my children, and I believe that future is now under threat. My service in 2025 has more meaning than it did when I arrived in 2015. It is my contribution to securing my children’s future.

This brings me to my final answer: ‘I serve because I am Australian.’ This is a fine place to finish. Migrating to another nation in mid-life has been hard—a core change in identity that led me from being British to becoming Australian. I often reflect that, while I originally served to gain Australian citizenship, I have now become truly Australian due to my service.

My time in the Australian Army has fundamentally connected me to the nation. It has shown me all the different Australias: from Whyalla in the south to the red desert in the Northern Territory, from the beauty of Perth to the Atherton Tableland. I have been privileged to lead the oldest cavalry regiment in the Australian Army, with a history dating back to 1860. I have worn the Australian national flag on my sleeve every day for nearly a decade, a constant reminder of what the country has given my family and me. I would not be the Australian I am today without the Australian Army.

For me, this is one of the most under-recognised benefits of service: an appreciation of and connection to nation. The idea of patriotism is struggling in the modern age, but the definition remains clear: ‘the quality of being devoted to one’s country.’ I am far more devoted to Australia than I expected to be, just 10 years ago. Because I am an Australian soldier. Always.

Editors’ picks for 2024: ‘The beauty of an 80 percent solution: lessons from the RQ-7B program’

Originally published on 26 July 2024.

As so often, the Australian Defence Force wanted the exquisite solution. It wanted uncrewed battlefield reconnaissance aircraft of a design that wasn’t operational anywhere and would achieve performance that other countries didn’t have.

And the acquisition led nowhere—except to prompt a successful replacement effort that gave the ADF a powerful lesson in the merits of toning down requirements to get something that is good enough and can go into service fast enough.

The lesson has been formalised. Defence now defines the two key concepts in its Capability Lifecycle Manual. They boil down to this: identify a ‘minimum viable capability’ (MVC), which is a lowest acceptable military effect that meets the requirement, then get a ‘minimum viable product’ (MVP), something that will deliver that capability on time.

The 2023 Defence Strategic Review told the ADF to go for MVC and MVP.

MVP is widely known in business, but not in Defence. At a 2023 ASPI conference, several senior speakers couldn’t clearly describe it or give an example when asked.

Well, that uncrewed aircraft project offers a fine example.

It was Joint Project 129 Phase 2 (JP129-2), a long and unnecessarily complex process of providing aircraft for intelligence-gathering, reconnaissance and target identification for the Australian Army.

The story of acquiring an uncrewed aerial reconnaissance capability for the army ultimately involved three aircraft types and their associated ground systems: first the overly ambitious original design that Defence had to abandon; then the Boeing Institu MQ-27A ScanEagle that was leased as a gap-filler; and finally RQ-7B Shadow 200 from AAI Corporation of the United States.

The original design was still at the prototype stage in 2005 when Defence chose it and was authorised to proceed to acquisition. So that design had not in fact been finalised and could still have had plenty of problems.

And the ADF wanted the design certified to an airworthiness standard that no uncrewed aircraft anywhere had achieved. Furthermore, the aircraft were to operate at such long ranges that their radio communications would work at the extremes of physics. The communications would also have encryption cyber security not yet in use in any other Australian tactical systems. And all this was to be fully integrated into Australian Army vehicles supplying power, the other end of the radio link and command and control.

Over three years of contract negotiation the aircraft grew 50 percent in weight, the project needed release of contingency funds as costs rose, and there were signs of insurmountable technical difficulties.

Meanwhile, the ADF could not wait. It was on operations in Afghanistan and Iraq and in 2006 leased ScanEagles as an interim solution; they remained in use until 2013.

In 2008 the capability management team for JP129-2 recommended a reset to the Chief of the Army. It proposed:

—Terminating the contract for the original design;

—Defining an MVC as an approximately 80 percent solution to the specification;

—Choosing a US design that the US Army was already using and was available through the US Foreign Military Sales process—specifically, the Shadow 200; and

—Doing it all fast.

Toning down the requirement meant dropping nice-to-haves, as distinct from must-haves: the aircraft wouldn’t have to operate from amphibious ships, and the army would do without the unique airworthiness requirements. Ironically, the RQ-7B was an updated version of a design that had been rejected in 2005 for the project because of supposed capability shortfalls.

Over the next two years the equipment was acquired, the US Army trained Australian soldiers to use it at Fort Huachuca, Arizona, it was rapidly proven in tests at Woomera, and the first of the two systems was sent straight from Woomera to Afghanistan. Each system comprised the ground station and five aircraft; eight more aircraft were bought as spares.

Shadow 200s sent to Afghanistan were in a bare-MVP configuration and adapted to operate from shelters instead of US Army HMMWV trucks. What the Australian Army got at first was in fact only a 70 percent solution. But it worked, and it worked well.

Over the next few years it was progressively improved. It was adapted for mounting on the army’s own battlefield trucks, Unimogs, given ADF combat-net radios, tested and certified to Australian weapons targeting and engagement requirements, and made compliant with Australian work-safety standards.

It was also given systems as bolt-ons, meaning they weren’t tightly (and expensively) integrated into it. One was for interpreting and sharing pictures from the aircraft; the others were a flight data recorder and a cockpit voice recorder on the ground operating station, both needed to meet aviation safety requirements.

All this was done in Australia by local businesses. By 2016, when the system was declared to have reached final operating capability, the Shadow 200s had achieved the intended 80 percent MVC configuration—and had been acquired for only half of the budget that Defence had expected to spend before changing horses in 2008.

The lesson is that Defence can greatly improve acquisition efficiency if a capability manager first agrees with operators what the 100 percent solution looks like, then approves going ahead with an MVC of 70 to 90 percent.

As with the Shadow 200s, a program can first deliver an initial operational capability at the 70 percent level then progressively advance to 90 percent. Declaring a final operational capability isn’t necessary, because it’s recognised that 100 percent will never be achieved. This model is particularly suitable for areas in which technology is advancing faster than the pace of Defence acquisition.

It involves a preference for mature, off-the-shelf, in-production equipment and teaming with a supplier that has an industry presence in Australia.

The need for speed must loom over the whole process, and it’s essential to try to come in under budget. With current constraints in the capability acquisition program, every dollar saved on one project is needed for another.

Australia’s army is suffering from a crisis of identity and confidence

The Australian Army does not have a social licence problem, it has self-confidence issue.

On balance, the community from which the Australian Army is drawn, and that it serves, values and implicitly permits the army’s existence. While we can argue the toss in terms of whether the army should be the first port of call for national disaster relief, it remains the fact Australian society looks to our army in times of peril.

But the army has not pushed back, and the list of society’s requirements continues to grow. We ask more and more of our army and, rightly or not, lash it when it stumbles. Truth is, the army has ceded too much territory in our national debate to woke politics. Our army has overcorrected on its course correction following the Brereton inquiry.

The army’s fundamental role is the application of lethal force in our name—to kill. The army does not go out of its way to remind Australians that this task is one we consciously place on its shoulders. So, we tend to forget about it.

Perhaps the army has an identity problem. Australian Bureau of Statistics data indicates the proportion of Australian citizens who were born overseas (first-generation Australians) or have a parent born overseas (second generation) has surpassed 50 per cent of our population. This has direct implications for the story our army tells. Anzac Day commemorations strike a chord with an ever-narrowing group. Society is shifting and our shared stories are no longer simply grandfather stories of World War II.

The new histories and composition of our community make it slightly more difficult to pinpoint an Australian brand of duty. The army must think differently about the society it serves and from which it draws.

The recruitment focus on school-leavers is too late. Given our cultural diversity, it is important to capture the interest of much younger children. The army might consider a primary school focus akin to the Constable Kenny Koala program, whereby Annie Army visits schools to spark early interest in a life of service.

Recent census data shows that in five years from 2016 the largest source of community growth was Nepal. Australia’s Nepalese community grew by 124 per cent. There is an opportunity for a real marriage of service, identity and cultural affinity here: a targeted recruitment effort to establish an Australian Army Gurkha Brigade.

The army continues to operate with a sense of restriction. Its recruitment efforts are tailored at fiscal benefits, social opportunities and travel. While these are commendable draw cards, the army is about so much more.

Our army needs to rediscover confidence before society to follow suit. It has owned mistakes made and committed to do better. Instead of cracking on, our army seems to find itself in a constant state of flight or fight, anxious to not make headlines. This reinforces challenges in recruitment and retention, too.

It is time for the army to reintroduce itself to Australia. We can easily capture army composition from headcounts or gender statistics, and from doctrine understand its mission, purpose and ethos. This tells us what the army is but not who. I think this is a significant distinction to overlook.

The Australian Army is a living, breathing entity. This is something Winston Churchill captured: ‘The army is not like a limited liability company, to be reconstructed, remodelled, liquidated, refloated from week to week as the money market fluctuates. It is not an inanimate thing, like a house, to be pulled down or enlarged or structurally altered at the caprice of the tenant or the owner; it is a living thing.’

It must act like one.

Of course, our army is both a profession and a bureaucracy. But in recent times the bureaucracy has outweighed profession. While both must feature, ideally in equilibrium, for a righteous and efficient Australian Army to exist we must rebalance the scales. The army should cultivate a sense of calling, of pride, of duty, among those who serve as well as the community served.

Instead, our army appears unconfident in its purpose—seeking too much direction from the society it serves, allowing its bureaucratic nature to take hold and frame service as a job. How odd it is to have such a stellar international reputation as a reliable and skilled boutique force respected by allies and enemies, only to be consumed by a crisis of confidence at home.

To return to Churchill, it is true that if an army ‘is bullied, it sulks; if it is unhappy, it pines; if it is harried, it gets feverish; if it is sufficiently disturbed, it will wither and dwindle and almost die; and when it comes to this last serious condition, it is only revived by lots of time and lots of money’.

Our army is sufficiently disturbed—disconnected—and lacks adequate self-confidence. Australia lacks time and money to throw at the problem but this does not excuse us from an honest discussion about our army. The army must be ready to respond with unashamed confidence in its vital purpose. A life of service and duty is to be celebrated, aspired to and revered for its contribution to the prosperity and security of our country.

Adapting all-domain forces to changes in land warfare

Many elements of 21st-century warfare echo those of the 20th century. The nature of war as a brutal and fundamentally human endeavour has endured despite the introduction of stealth aircraft, precision missiles, drones, satellites and cyber capabilities to contemporary battlefields. Making sense of this context is just one of many challenges confronting the Australian Army and how it best contributes to the joint force.

Transitioning to an Australian Defence Force that can generate decisive battlefield effects in all domains in Australia’s immediate region is no trivial task. The role of land forces in deterrence and war is being reshaped by emerging technologies and social circumstances for warfare, the growing connection between forces on the land and at sea, the tendency for wars to be prolonged and the relative merits of heavy ground units in the Indo-Pacific.

These are among the developments I explore in a new ASPI report, The implications of emerging changes in land warfare for the focused all-domain defence force.

The report is presented in good faith for the sake of further discussion and the contest of ideas. It derives from a strong personal sense of obligation for senior leaders of the profession of arms to lead and encourage professional discourse on the ever-changing features of warfare.

Current strategic guidance makes clear that strike capability is viewed as an essential and dominant feature of future warfare and a core part of a diverse joint or all-domain mix. That mix includes carefully designed and prepared conventional ground forces that are capable of long-range strike and of defence from enemy missiles and drones. But it also includes capabilities and forces designed and postured for conventional attack and defence from and through fortified positions on land at close quarters. Australia’s National Defence Strategy provides for this with an amphibious-capable combined-arms land system.

This is important, as the increasing range of emerging land-based strike systems will make the sea a very dangerous place for warships, including ships carrying units of the combined-arms land system. As an Australian force crossed the water to make a landing, it and friendly forces could try to suppress some of the enemy’s ability to attack it. Entirely suppressing that ability may be impossible, however.

One underexplored and perhaps less palatable option to overcoming enemy anti-access and area-denial capabilities is to use large numbers of small, inexpensive, fast and somewhat protected land vehicles and watercraft that overwhelm defensive systems. They would be mixed with autonomous decoys and using technologies to spoof sensors and remain undetected. This idea of small, cheap and many may be an answer to cover no-man’s-lands.

Indeed, the US Marine Corps is already testing low-profile vessels to resupply distant outposts in contested spaces. While seemingly inefficient, the large numbers of small and relatively inexpensive craft could absorb enough of the enemy’s fire to enable a decisive number of troops and materiel to get into the fray to carry the day.

To keep costs down and to ensure the defence industrial base can produce large enough quantities to rapidly reconstitute combat losses, the vessels would need to have minimal defensive capabilities. A premium could be placed on the ability to carry or instantly access command and control, computing, communications, cyber, intelligence, surveillance, reconnaissance and targeting capabilities. The intention would be to degrade an adversary’s ability to sense and target small watercraft or personnel carriers to enable a landing.

Rather than dismiss or ignore the problem of transportation, critics and advocates should turn their attention to resolving how to manoeuvre naval and land forces and all their supplies and other logistical needs across no-man’s-lands encompassing both sea and land. It’s an all-domain problem and solving it would go a long way towards building confidence that the ADF and potential partners can manoeuvre in the Indo-Pacific at all.

While this report sketches some rough ideas for how land forces might contribute to Australia’s all-domain defence in various scenarios, there’s still a lot of imagination and creativity required. A lack of circumspection about the problems of contemporary warfare will only serve to inhibit that imagination and creativity.

The challenge now is to work out how best to use those ground forces in concert with forces in other domains to create a truly maritime ADF.

Recruitment now focuses on the ADF, not each service. That’s a mistake

The Australian Defence Force is missing an opportunity in shifting the focus of its recruitment drive away from the three armed services and onto the ADF as a whole. By doing so, it’s failing to make use of services’ separate traditions as attractions to potential recruits.

The former chief of the defence force General Angus Campbell told Senate estimates in February that the ADF was 4,308 personnel below its approved strength. In that context, ADF Careers in July launched its new recruitment campaign—Unlike any other job. Spruiking the benefits of joining the ADF, the flashy campaign splashed across social media.

But there’s a problem: people don’t join the ADF; they join one of the services. They join either the Royal Australian Navy, Australian Army or Royal Australian Air Force, each of which has unique traditions, service life and a proud history of defending Australia.

The recent career advertisements, while slick and well produced, fail to tap into the core motivations that have driven Australians to serve for generations. Joining the navy, army or air force isn’t just a career move; it’s a commitment to a legacy of service and sacrifice.

The July 2024 ADF careers campaign came 12 months after the decision to rebrand recruiting from service specific—navy, army, air force recruiting—to ADF Careers. The amalgamation of the service recruiting functions, while an efficient use of resources, represents a wider trend within the Department of Defence of reducing the influence of the individual services.

The erosion of the authority of the service chiefs has added to a more bureaucratic structure and slower decision-making. But it’s the loss of service identity in the recruiting process that will be most problematic for an ADF attempting to grow to its greatest numbers since World War II.

This issue is not without precedent. The Canadian Armed Forces, in a well-meaning effort to streamline and modernise, unified the navy, army and air force into a single entity in 1968. The result was a loss of identity and tradition, which contributed to a decline in morale and recruitment. It took Canada more than four decades to reverse that decision; it officially reinstated separate branches in 2011. The lesson is clear: when military institutions distance themselves from their traditions and core values, they risk losing the very qualities that attract people to service in the first place.

Australia’s military has, until now, been largely immune to such missteps. The navy has its proud maritime legacy linked to battles such as the Leyte Gulf or Savo Island, the army its deep ties to land campaigns such as Gallipoli and Kokoda, and the air force its history of contributing to air superiority in theatres ranging from Europe to the Pacific. Those traditions are not just history; they’re living parts of what it means to serve. While it’s important for the ADF to adapt to modern challenges, it must do so without losing the traditions that make each service unique.

The recruitment shortfall in the ADF today isn’t due to a lack of attractive offers. Defence salaries are competitive, benefits are strong and the opportunities for career advancement are significant. But none of that will resonate with young Australians if the message of service is diluted. What the current advertisements fail to communicate is the sense of purpose that comes with wearing the uniform. That message, embedded in the traditions of the navy, army and air force, is what will inspire a new generation to enlist.

Canada’s decision to reverse unification of its services in 2011 was more than a symbolic gesture. It was an acknowledgement that the essence of military service lies in the identity that comes with being part of a distinct organisation. Reintroducing the separate services helped to restore the pride and tradition that had been lost. For Canada, the price of unification and efficiency had been the erosion of the very things that gave the military its soul. By reinstating the navy, army and air force as separate entities, Canada not only boosted morale but also reconnected its armed forces to the traditions that had historically been their source of strength and purpose.

The ADF should heed that example. The ADF’s strength lies not only in its modern capabilities but in the traditions that have shaped its identity. Young Australians aren’t just looking for jobs—they’re searching for meaning and purpose. They want to be part of something that matters.

If the ADF is to reverse its recruitment decline, it needs to shift the narrative. The focus must return to the traditions and values that make the navy, army and air force unique.

As Australia faces an increasingly complex strategic environment, the importance of a strong, capable and motivated defence force can’t be overstated. The lessons from Canada’s failed unification experiment are clear. When military institutions lose sight of their traditions, they risk losing their identity—and, with it, the ability to attract and retain the people they need. For the ADF, the path forward is not to abandon tradition in favour of efficiencies under the motto ‘One Defence’ but to find a way to honour the past while preparing for the future.

Australian Army chief prioritises trust, the study of war and military professionalism

On 12 September, Land Forces 2024, Australia’s largest defence conference and industry exposition, opened to the Chief of Army Symposium for the first time. The symposium brought together almost 2000 attendees from across the Service, allied and partner forces, defence industry and academia for thematic talks on the human face of battle and the state of the army profession.

In his keynote address, the Chief of Army Lieutenant General Simon Stuart, delivered a rousing organisational and public message: the Australian Army will ‘weave together the [intellectual and the moral] elements of fighting power with the physical elements’ to meet Australia’s strategic challenges. This means building public trust and social license, elevating the study of classical military history and theory in army education and training, and strengthening the standard of professionalism expected of soldiers in action.

While not deliberate or planned, the timing of this message coincided with the government’s removal of medals from some senior officers over alleged war crimes committed in Afghanistan under their command. This backdrop worked to highlight the responsibility of Army service personnel to show restraint and good judgement in morally demanding environments. In every sense the address proved a natural successor to Stuart’s 2023 response to the defence strategic review, which put people at the center of the army’s ongoing technological and doctrinal transformation.

The Army’s new capstone document is the best reference point for Australians to understand how the Service will contribute to the national defence strategy. As a vital component of Australia’s national power, the Army is being optimised to secure and control strategic land positions in the littoral and areas inland from the coast. This will involve using long-range strike weapons, battlefield aviation platforms, the combined arms land system and landing craft. With the largest equipment recapitalisation now well in-hand, trust has become the ‘central strategic priority’.

For Stuart, trust can’t be decoupled from social license. Maintaining social license will require building trust between the Army’s teams and with Australian communities—noting that the army serves, and recruits from, the citizenry. The Army is well-placed to leverage this connection. Around 43,500 soldiers operate from 157 bases nationwide, many of which are in the north, and all live and work in their community. And every soldier accepts a responsibility to ethically apply lethal force and may give their lives to defend Australia and its interests—the two sides of the ‘unlimited liability contract’, as first outlined by General Sir John Hackett in 1962. Both the army and society writ large are obliged to honour that commitment.

Responding to the release of final royal commission report into veteran suicide, Stuart reasoned that new learning systems were needed to hard-wire adaptation into the soldiering profession. Leading by example, Stuart quoted or cited at least 10 scholarly works in his remarks; a tactic reinforcing the idea that soldiers should be avid readers and students of military history, theory and philosophy. That less than 10 percent of graduates at the Australian Defence Force Academy elect to study Australian military history each year drove the point home. In his experience, a deep understanding of the art and science of war is vital to ensure soldiers are equipped to reconcile their instinct for self-preservation and sense of honour on the battlefield.

Alongside more thorough learning, the Army will engage in period of reflection to move beyond what Stuart called the ‘Long Shadow of Afghanistan’ in preparation for the future fight. To this end, Stuart committed to undertake a ‘first principles’ review of the key elements of the profession—the first since 1947.

The remainder of the symposium featured presentations from Dr Jack Watling, Senior Research Fellow for Land Warfare, Royal United Services Institute, and General David H. Berger, the former 38th Commandant of the United States Marine Corps, and architect of the USMC’s ‘Future Force 2030’ transformation.

Two moderated panels with civilians and senior ranking military officials from allied and partner nations then considered the need to do things differently amidst increasing great power competition and risks of conflict. The discussions explored novel ways to promote readiness, resource stewardship and the importance of land forces to regional stability and security.

The public can expect an update from Stuart on progress in the coming months and further detail outlining next steps to achieve the Army’s strategic priorities sometime in 2025.

It’s clear the Army is embracing its role as an essential enabler of force protection and projection for the ADF with maturity and humility. Stuart’s remarks should give the public and the international community confidence that the Australian Army will realise the full potential of the profession. In this, as in war, according to Stuart, there can be no substitute for victory.

To exploit northern Australia’s strategic value, Defence has some talking to do

It’s a pity that strategic geography isn’t on the agenda of a leading defence exhibition next week, because Defence and the Australian Army could well use a chance to talk with others about how better to exploit the great strategic potential of northern Australia.

Making the most of northern Australia would mean enhancing operational effectiveness of the Australian Defence Force and shortening its internal lines of communication. It can’t be done properly unless and until Defence and the army engage with the industry and local, state and territory governments of the north.

The event will be the Land Forces 2024 International Land Defence Exposition, bringing together Defence, industry and government leaders. It will follow this year’s National Defence Strategy and last year’s Defence Strategic Review, both of which repeatedly mentioned northern Australia.

As a pivotal gateway to the Indo-Pacific region, northern Australia holds a unique and significant position. It is an essential hub for projecting Australian military power and engaging in joint operations with regional allies. Its geographic location provides a crucial strategic advantage for monitoring and responding to regional threats.

By leveraging the advantages of both Darwin and Townsville, the Australian Army can refine its amphibious and coastal strategies, ensure swift and efficient maritime deployments and bolster its readiness to respond to emerging threats in littoral zones. However, to do so effectively, it must partner with the communities and governments it is working with. This collaboration is not just necessary but a strategic imperative for strengthening operational effectiveness in these critical environments, emphasising the importance of unity and shared goals.

So far, the army, and Defence more widely, haven’t been clear in their engagement in the north.

For example, in 2012 the Queensland government finished building its Southern Port Access Road across the Ross River. But the resulting low-level bridge is sometimes flooded, rendering the army’s amphibious base at Ross Island unusable.

For more than a year, Defence left the Northern Territory government and local industry with the distinct impression that the army’s helicopters would remain based in Darwin—only to find out later that this wasn’t the case.

In another case of poor communication, a northern government had to spend more than a year to get technical specifications from the army and Defence as it planned to build railway unloading ramps at a port rail terminal. That government wanted to ensure the ramps were strong enough to unload armoured vehicles, should the army need to do so.

In September 2023, the army designated Townsville as the hub for armoured vehicles and its attack and medium-lift aviation. As a result, 500 army personnel and their families will move from Adelaide to Townsville. Despite the decision’s great financial, economic and social implications, the Townsville local government was consulted only after the public announcement.

Darwin and Townsville, with their strategic locations and infrastructure, play pivotal roles in enhancing the Australian Army’s littoral capabilities. They provide crucial bases for deploying and sustaining littoral forces, facilitating rapid access to maritime and amphibious training areas. The cities’ port facilities and proximity to vital sea lanes enable effective staging and resupply of littoral operations. At the same time, their geographic positioning supports exercises and real-world operations across the Indo-Pacific region.

Northern Australia is a region of growth. Its private sector capacity is focused on commercial growth across various sectors, including agriculture, mining, and oil and gas. If the Australian Army is to operate in the region, it must actively discuss its current and future intent and work with the region and its stakeholders rather than through them.

The Korean War vividly displayed the value of leveraging geography to optimise internal lines of communication in logistics and resupply. At first, extended and vulnerable supply lines impeded prompt delivery of vital resources and reinforcements. As the US and allied forces engaged with North Korean troops, it became evident that speeding up resupply was essential to achieving operational success.

By refining their communication and logistics networks, the US and its allies markedly enhanced the speed and dependability of resupply operations. This overhaul mitigated logistical delays and bolstered the effectiveness of military sustainment. Consequently, frontline units received timely support, which proved instrumental in countering North Korean advances.

The US Department of Defense and the commander of the US Indo-Pacific Command understand this lesson and the value of Australia’s strategic geography. Their investment in fuel storage in Darwin and the US Force Posture Initiative are clear signals. There can also be no mistake that these efforts are focused on shortening their internal lines of communication in case of any future conflict in the region.

There are apparent efficiencies in centralising Defence manufacturing in Australia’s southern states to achieve economies of scale. But Defence and the army must now take the National Defence Strategy and consider the strategic importance of geography in shortening their internal lines of communication for military logistics. They can do so by using Townsville and Darwin. Local, state and territory governments and industry would welcome such a development, but this would require significant collaboration.

Defence and the army will realise the strategic value of northern Australia only if the region’s infrastructure is sufficiently robust and scalable to support rapid deployment and resupply capabilities.

The necessary regional development isn’t just a matter for Defence; it will only occur with broader government intervention and private-public cooperation. This development issue is about more than just Defence meeting the costs. It is about how Defence and the army can work with industry and the governments in the north to nurture the necessary development.

It is time for Defence and the army to deepen their engagement in northern Australia—starting next week.

Australian Army chief’s direction on tech adoption puts people at the centre

On 29 and 30 August, Perth played host to the annual Chief of Army Symposium. This year’s edition focused on the innovation and partnerships—with industry, entrepreneurs, end users and investors—necessary to continue to enable an adaptive Australian Army.

The media, commentariat and academia eagerly anticipate the service chiefs’ keynotes at these events. Meanwhile, the army’s rank and file want to hear directly from their leader on service priorities.

In a joint and integrated force, service priorities can’t be separated from the broader efforts of the Australian Defence Force, the civilian and contracted defence workforce, or the entrepreneurs and established industry players that must come together to deliver the defence leadership’s direction. And so the sea of green was appropriately punctuated with blue, grey, white and civvies.

In a speech that didn’t disappoint, Lieutenant General Simon Stuart offered a clear message to a large in-person and online crowd: Technology alone can’t win wars; it is a fundamentally human endeavour. And while the character of war may be ever changing, its nature is enduring. This message balances the narrative of technological primacy in modern conflict environments.

In the competition for strategic advantage, it’s enticing to think that the unprecedented speed of technological development can turn longstanding realities of war on their head.

Sure, the ability to understand the opportunities and risks of new and emerging technologies, and to put the best tech in the hands of warfighters quickly and responsibly, will provide an edge that modern militaries have long sought to exploit to create advantage.

But Stuart unquestionably focused on people as the differentiator in the Australian Army.

That’s a simple but powerful idea, and most consequentially it provides the necessary organising principle for strategy and planning across the army’s functions. It is a strong core for conceptual coherence.

The Australian Army focuses on adapting new technology to warfighting requirements and tactics in four main areas: robotics and automated systems, artificial intelligence and machine learning, quantum computing, and human performance optimisation. As Stuart sees it, the combined application of these technologies is most likely to provide human advantage and enhance the utility of land power on future battlefields.

Land forces are uniquely positioned to leverage presence, persistence, distributed international networks and asymmetry in a potential contingency. Australia’s land forces are the largest and typically the least capitalised of the services and are therefore capable of delivering exceptional versatility and value for money. It’s the fighting force that presents the human face of war most tangibly across the spectrum of peacetime to wartime activities.

Stuart said he expects the army to leverage its capacity for innovation and intellectual wherewithal to identify the most appropriate innovations in emerging concepts so that it can fully exploit the technological developments that are occurring now.

But he reminded members to undertake that task anchored in the history. The ADF’s experiences during Operation Postern in 1943 should guide the integration of technology for operations in our littoral to preserve the human in the loop and minimise trading blood in the first contact. Stuart later echoed those sentiments at the Chief of Army History Conference held in Canberra this week, saying that the army has in its DNA the ability to develop sound doctrine and robust land tactics while in conflict, as the 1943 Lae landing in New Guinea aptly demonstrated.

Adapting the army for the future fight means seeking avenues to offload risk to technology where it is both possible and advantageous to do so, Stuart said. Merging the art and science of warfare by freeing up human capacity to apply lethal force and leveraging human–machine learning to generate mass, enhance force protection capabilities and improve manoeuvrability will unlock the full potential of technology as a significant force multiplier.

Stuart reiterated that while the transformation the army is undertaking isn’t new, changing the way it operates to meet the challenges in Australia’s strategic environment requires new thinking and difficult decisions.

Plan Beersheba, the modernisation strategy that came into effect in 2011 prioritised a balanced force that wasn’t optimised for any specific mission. Key changes to the army’s structure and posture today are focused on generating combat capabilities that are optimised for deterrence, extended strike and joint littoral operations. Under the latest restructure, the army is delivering on an ‘intellectual pivot’ that’s informed by an appreciation of history and seeks to build advantage through a people-first approach.

Beginning in 2025, a staged relocation process will see around 800 troops moved from Adelaide to Brisbane, Townsville and Darwin as armoured vehicles and full-time infantry are withdrawn from the South Australian capital. There are significant challenges to this move, and it will require strong planning and development of these northern locations to support the army’s critical hardware and capability along with its people.

The government has made it clear that the northern movement of forces will occur within the normal posting cycles to limit its human impact and that support will be extended to army personnel and family members as the changes are implemented. Nonetheless, the move is complex and relocating core army capabilities that have resided in the south for decades is a huge task.

It’s tempting to lament the fact that Australia’s defence strategy has resulted in such a dramatic restructuring of our land forces and posture. But even amid current recruiting issues, we should commend the army’s efforts to pair the best minds with the best technology. The 2023 defence strategic review’s focus on innovation and technology allows the army to continue its efforts to deliver outsized benefits and outcomes from its investments.

Importantly, Stuart clearly stated that his people remain at the centre of his conception of future army capability. This is the right approach to deliver on the obligation to ensure our warfighters have what they need to fight and win and come home. And it will help get the army through some challenging times ahead.

‘Impactful projection’—from land and sea

The 2023 defence strategic review has as its centrepiece the concept Defence Minister Richard Marles has defined as ‘impactful projection’. The goal is to defend Australia and its immediate region, and to ‘deter through denial’ any attacker’s attempt to approach through the archipelago to the nation’s north. This requires Australia to be able to precisely strike targets at long range and to manufacture munitions in Australia. That will complement the acquisition of nuclear-powered, conventionally armed submarines under the AUKUS agreement, and the development of infrastructure to enable Australia and its allies to operate more easily from bases in northern Australia.

The capabilities identified in the 2023 review and the 2020 force structure plan provide this increased range and ability to deter. The review recommends local manufacture of missiles, though the new guided weapons and explosive ordnance enterprise won’t start producing for some time.

But is this sufficient for Australia’s security in a much more contested strategic environment, when weapons of potential adversaries significantly out-range planned Australian capabilities?

The reality is that the recommendations won’t give the Australian Defence Force the ability to reach far enough beyond Australia’s shores to strike an enemy, at least not within the critical decade to come. The ADF needs longer-range capabilities faster or, failing that, a clear forward deployment strategy.

The review certainly elevates the army’s role in long-range strike, with the HIMARS missile launcher, which had been planned for acquisition in 2022, as well the development of the precision strike missile, first announced in 2021. HIMARS can fire ATACMS battlefield rockets, with a range of 300 kilometres, and precision-strike missiles, with a current range of about 500 kilometres. That’s a significant leap beyond the army’s towed artillery or the self-propelled artillery based on the Korean AS9 Huntsman, which can fire out to 30 kilometres.

But compared to the long-range capabilities of China’s military, the weapons coming to Australia are effectively short-range. Missile systems such as China’s DF-26 and DF-27 and sea- and air-based land-attack cruise missiles have the range to hit critical facilities in northern Australia from as far away as the South China Sea. But even with the planned new capabilities, Australian forces wouldn’t be able to place an attacking force at risk until it was well within the ADF’s anti-access and area-denial envelope set to emerge in coming years.

ASPI’s Alex Bristow and Marcus Schultz note that acquiring longer-range weapons, such as land-based anti-ship missiles, and the craft to manoeuvre in littoral areas equips the army for operations along Australia’s vast northern coastline and, potentially, in forward locations in the archipelago.

Unless the army receives missiles with much greater range, it will need to operate to the north of Australia, which will require the agreement of host nations. While there’s been concern in the army about the reduced number of infantry fighting vehicles it will receive, its enhanced role in littoral manoeuvre and its long-range weapons make it a key to delivering the sought-after impactful projection. But more needs to be done to extend the range of proposed land-based missiles.

The air force faces a similar range challenge. The review suggests fitting the AGM-158C long-range anti-ship missile to the F-35A joint strike fighter and acquiring the Kongsberg joint strike missile. The air force earlier announced plans to upgrade its AGM-158 JASSM to the much longer range JASSM-ER for its F/A-18F Super Hornets and potentially the F-35A. The air force is certainly enhancing its lethal reach, but without assured forward host-nation support, its range is still well short of where an attacking force might concentrate.

The navy’s planned acquisition of Tomahawk Block IV and Block V missiles, which can attack both maritime and land targets, will give its air warfare destroyers greater capability, but that will be severely constrained by the limited number of vertical launch cells able to accommodate them. This will also reduce the navy’s ability to sustain a fleet-integrated air and missile defence capability.

The review suggests that the AUKUS submarines can provide an adequate strike capability, but the first won’t turn up until 2033 at the earliest. As ASPI’s Jennifer Parker has noted, any suggestion that submarines diminish the requirement for a potent surface naval capability, including for strike operations, is open to challenge. With only three to four boats available at any time, the ability to generate significant firepower even with advanced missiles such as Tomahawks is constrained.

The lead-up to the 2024 national defence strategy will be a crucial period that includes the release of the review of the navy’s surface fleet requirements. This represents an opportunity for the ADF to embrace a new approach to power projection that fully exploits the unconstrained environment of the oceans, the air and space domains, and the undersea domain.

The ADF should seek to forward deploy well into these maritime regions. As Euan Graham noted last year, one possible option for closer defence cooperation would be the Philippines.

Once naval forces have control of the sea to our north, amphibious land forces can strike and limit an enemy’s ability to manoeuvre.

Littoral forces deployed ashore can be supported where possible by Australian-based US long-range bombers that can undertake land strike and anti-surface warfare, and by well-dispersed and well-armed naval surface combatants including stealthy high-speed missile-armed craft; armed autonomous systems in the air, on the sea and under the waves; and advanced loitering munitions.

The surface fleet review represents an opportunity to reconceptualise how the navy might function in war, shifting to a fleet emphasising stealth, speed, surprise and firepower across a larger number of platforms operating as a networked whole linked by a mix of space- and air-based systems.

If the review merely reaffirms the existing fleet structure and fails to take advantage of new technologies and new operational concepts, it will be a wasted effort and a waste of time—and time in this adverse strategic context is not a friend.