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British public opinion on foreign policy: President Trump, Ukraine, China, Defence spending and AUKUS

Results snapshot

President Trump

  • Britons support an open and engaged foreign policy role for the United Kingdom. In light of the re-election of President Donald Trump, 40% believe Britain should continue to maintain its current active level of engagement in world affairs, and 23% believe it should play a larger role.
  • Just 16% of Britons support a less active United Kingdom on the world stage.
  • When asked what Britain’s response should be if the United States withdraws its financial and military support from Ukraine, 57% of Britons would endorse the UK either maintaining (35%) or increasing (22%) its contributions to Ukraine. One-fifth would prefer that the UK reduces its contributions to Ukraine.

UK–China relations

  • Just a quarter (26%) of Britons support the UK Government’s efforts to increase engagement with China in the pursuit of economic growth and stabilised diplomatic relations.
  • In comparison, 45% of Britons would either prefer to return to the more restricted level of engagement under the previous government (25%) or for the government to reduce its relations with Beijing even further (20%).
  • A large majority of Britons (69%) are concerned about the increasing degree of cooperation between Russia and China. Conservative and Labour voters share similarly high levels of concern, and Britons over 50 years of age are especially troubled about the trend of adversary alignment.

Defence and security

  • When asked whether the UK will need to spend more on defence to keep up with current and future global security challenges, a clear two-thirds (64%) of the British people agree. Twenty-nine per cent of Britons strongly agree that defence spending should increase. Just 12% disagree that the UK will need to spend more.
  • The majority of Britons believe that collaboration with allies on defence and security projects like AUKUS will help to make the UK safer (55%) and that partnerships like AUKUS focusing on developing cutting-edge technologies with Britain’s allies will help to make the UK more competitive towards countries like China (59%).
  • Britons are somewhat less persuaded that AUKUS will succeed as a deterrent against Chinese aggression in the Indo-Pacific, although the largest group of respondents (44%) agree that it will.

Brief survey methodology and notes

Survey design and analysis: Sophia Gaston

Field work: Opinium

Field work dates: 8–10 January 2025

Weighting: Weighted to be nationally and politically representative

Sample: 2,050 UK adults

The field work for this report was conducted by Opinium through an online survey platform, with a sample size of 2,050 UK adults aged 18 and over. This sample size is considered robust for public opinion research and aligns with industry standards. With 2,000 participants, the margin of error for reported figures is approximately ±2.3 percentage points at a 95% confidence level. Beyond this sample size, the reduction in the margin of error becomes minimal, making this size both statistically sufficient and practical for drawing meaningful conclusions with reliable representation of the UK adult population. For the full methodological statement, see Appendix 1 of this report.

Notes

  1. Given the subject matter of this survey, objective and impartial contextual information was provided at the beginning of questions. There are some questions for which fairly substantial proportions of respondents were unsure of their answers. All ‘Don’t knows’ are reported.
  2. The survey captured voters for all political parties, and non-voters; however, only the findings for the five largest parties are discussed in detail in this report, with the exception of one question (6C), in which it was necessary to examine the smaller parties as the source of a drag on the national picture. The five major parties discussed in this report are the Conservative Party, the Labour Party, the Liberal Democrats, Reform (formerly the Brexit Party and UKIP), and the Green Party.
  3. This report also presents the survey results differentiated according to how respondents’ voted in the 2016 referendum on the UK’s membership of the European Union, their residency within the UK, their age, their socio-economic status, and whether they come from White British or non-White British backgrounds. The full methodological notes are found at the end of the report.
  4. Some of the graphs present ‘NET’ results, which combine the two most positive and two most negative responses together – for example, ‘Significantly increase’ and ‘Somewhat increase’ – to provide a more accessible representation of the balance of public opinion. These are presented alongside the full breakdown of results for each question for full transparency.

Introduction

There’s no doubt that 2025 will be a consequential year in geopolitical terms, with the inauguration of President Donald Trump marking a step-change in the global role of the world’s largest economy and its primary military power. The full suite of implications for America’s allies is still emerging, and there will be opportunities for its partners to express their agency or demonstrate alignment. For a nation like the United Kingdom, whose security and strategic relationship with the United States is institutionally embedded, any pivotal shifts in American foreign policy bear profound ramifications for the UK’s international posture. The fact that such an evaluation of America’s international interests and relationships is taking place during a time in which several major conflicts – including one in Europe – continue to rage, only serves to heighten anxieties among policy-makers and citizens alike.

Public opinion on foreign policy remains an understudied and poorly understood research area in Britain, due to a long-held view that the public simply conferred responsibility for such complicated and sensitive matters to government. Certainly, many Britons don’t possess a sophisticated understanding of the intricacies of diplomatic and security policy. However, they do carry strong instincts, and, in an internationalised media age, are constantly consuming information from a range of sources and forming opinions that may diverge from government positions.

The compound effect of a turbulent decade on the international stage has made Britons more perceptive to feelings of insecurity about the state of the world, which can be transposed into their domestic outlook. At the same time, their belief in the efficacy of government to address international crises, or their support for the missions being pursued by government, isn’t guaranteed. This creates a challenging backdrop from which public consent can be sought for the kind of bold and decisive actions that may need to be considered as policy options in the coming months and years.

This study provides a snapshot of the views of British citizens at the moment at which President Donald Trump was inaugurated for a second time. It shows a nation which, overall, continues to subscribe to clear definitions of its friends and adversaries, carries a sense of responsibility to Ukraine, and greets the rise of a more assertive China with concern and scepticism. Underneath the national picture, however, the data reveals some concerning seeds of discord and divergence among certain demographic groups and political parties. The UK Government must build on the good foundations by speaking more frequently and directly to the British people about the rapidly evolving global landscape, and making the case for the values, interests, and relationships it pursues.

Sophia Gaston

March 2025

London

The future of US Indo-Pacific policy

How might US policy in the Indo-Pacific change over the next four years? In anticipation of a new US administration and Congress in 2025, ASPI USA held an “alternative futures analysis” exercise in mid-October 2024 to explore the drivers of US policy and how they might evolve through to November 2028. The workshop involved seven Indo-Pacific experts, who discussed a range of factors that could determine US policy and assessed how key factors could drive different outcomes.

The participants determined that the two key drivers affecting the US role in the Indo-Pacific over the next four years that are simultaneously most uncertain and most determinative for US policy are:

  1. Washington’s perception of China’s strength in the Indo-Pacific
  2. the level of US attention to the region.

The former is a key determinant of Washington’s threat perception, and the latter is a key determinant of Washington’s capacity to sustainably engage in the region. The nexus of those drivers produced a skeleton of four potential scenarios:

  • Failing to walk and chew gum: Perceived high China power and a low level of US attention. In this scenario, Beijing continues to advance its interests across the region while Washington fails to prioritise imperatives in the Indo-Pacific amid ongoing conflicts in Europe, the Middle East, and elsewhere.
  • Follow US: Perceived high China power and a high level of US attention. In this scenario, the possibility of Chinese regional hegemony is growing, but the US adopts a focused, harder-edged security strategy and leads like-minded states to confront the challenge.
  • The Peaceful Pivot: Perceived low China power and a high level of US attention. In this “stars align” scenario, the perception of diminishing competition and conflict with China couples with the US implementing the decade-old promise of a pivot to Asia.
  • Leading from behind: Perceived low China power and a low level of US attention. China’s capacity to project power falters in this scenario, but the US—pulled into global events elsewhere and distracted by its own domestic politics—does not provide forceful leadership in the region and leans on allies and partners to carry the load.

Australia and South Korea: Leveraging the strategic potential of cooperation in critical technologies

Executive summary

Cooperation between Australia and the Republic of Korea (hereafter South Korea or the ROK) in a range of critical technology areas has grown rapidly in recent years. Underpinned by the Australia – South Korea Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) on Cyber and Critical Technology Cooperation signed in 2021, collaboration is currently centred around emerging technologies, including next-generation telecommunications, artificial intelligence (AI) and quantum computing. Such technologies are deemed to be critical due to their potential to enhance or threaten societies, economies and national security. Most are dual- or multi-use and have applications in a wide range of sectors.1

Intensifying geostrategic competition is threatening stability and prosperity in the Indo-Pacific region. Particularly alarming is competition in the technological domain. ASPI’s Critical Technology Tracker, a large data-driven project that now covers 64 critical technologies and focuses on high-impact research, reveals a stunning shift in research ‘technology leadership’ over the past two decades. Where the United States (US) led in 60 of the 64 technologies in the five years between 2003 and 2007, the US’s lead has decreased to seven technologies in the most recent five years (2019–2023). Instead, China now leads in 57 of those technologies.

Within the Indo-Pacific region, some countries have responded to those shifts in technology leadership through the introduction of policies aimed at building ‘technological sovereignty’. The restriction of high-risk vendors from critical infrastructure, the creation of sovereign industrial bases and supply-chain diversification are examples of this approach. But a sovereign approach doesn’t mean protectionism. Rather, many countries, including Australia and South Korea, are collaborating with like-minded regional partners to further their respective national interests and support regional resilience through a series of minilateral frameworks.

The Australia – South Korea technological relationship already benefits from strong foundations, but it’s increasingly important that both partners turn promise into reality. It would be beneficial for Australia and South Korea to leverage their respective strengths and ensure that collaboration evolves in a strategic manner. Both countries are leaders in research and development (R&D) related to science and technology (S&T) and are actively involved in international partnerships for standards-setting relating to AI and other technologies. Furthermore, both countries possess complementary industry sectors, as demonstrated through Australia’s critical-minerals development and existing space-launch capabilities on one hand, and South Korea’s domestic capacity for advanced manufacturing on the other.

This report examines four stages common to technological life cycles — (1) R&D and innovation; (2) building blocks for manufacturing; (3) testing and application; and (4) standards and norms. For each, we examine a specific critical technology of interest. Those four life-cycle areas and respective technologies—spanning biotechnologies-related R&D, manufacturing electric-battery materials, satellite launches and AI standards-setting—were chosen as each is a technology of focus for both countries. Furthermore, collaboration through these specific technological stages enables Australia and South Korea to leverage their existing strengths in a complementary manner (see Figure 1). Supporting the analysis of these four stages of the technological life cycle and selected critical technologies is data from ASPI’s Critical Technology Tracker and the Composite Science and Technology Innovation Index (COSTII) jointly released by South Korea’s Ministry of Science and ICT (MSIT) and the Korea Institute of Science & Technology Evaluation and Planning (KISTEP).

Informed by that examination, this report identifies a set of recommendations for strengthening cooperation that is relevant for different stakeholders, including government and industry.

Policy recommendations

Biotechnologies

Australia and South Korea can enhance knowledge-sharing in biotechnologies-related R&D through people-to-people exchanges. Links should be formalised through an MoU between relevant institutions—such as Australia’s Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation (CSIRO) and the Korea Research Institute of Bioscience and Biotechnology. An MoU could be used to implement initiatives such as a virtual mentoring program and long-term in-person exchanges (preferably at least 12 months in duration). Such exchanges would support immersive in-country interaction, enabling the transfer of specialised R&D expertise. Australian researchers could share knowledge about advances in early-stage clinical trials processes, while South Korean researchers could contribute insights into synthetic biology and AI tools in drug-discovery clinical-trial methodologies. Financial support from Australia’s National Health and Medical Research Council could facilitate the exchanges.2 There remains a need to address visa constraints impeding the free flow of researchers between both countries. While this report focuses on R&D, we suggest that there’s equal value in considering cooperation in the manufacturing stages of the biotechnologies value chain.

Recommendation 1: Formalise links between Australia’s and South Korea’s key biotechnologies R&D institutions by facilitating long-term people-to-people exchanges aimed at transferring specialised expertise. This includes in areas such as clinical trials, synthetic biology and AI integration in biotechnologies.

Electric batteries

Australian companies should consider the production of battery materials, including lithium hydroxide and precursor cathode active materials (pCAM), through joint ventures with South Korean battery manufacturers. Such ventures would benefit from jointly funded and owned facilities geographically close to requisite critical minerals. Since spodumene is needed for lithium hydroxide and nickel, cobalt and manganese are required for pCAM, Western Australia provides the ideal location for those facilities. Furthermore, BHP’s recent suspension of its Western Australian nickel operations provides an ideal opportunity for a South Korean battery company to purchase those operations— securing nickel sulphate supplies necessary for pCAM manufacturing.3 There’s also the potential for South Korea to invest in cathode active manufacturing (CAM) manufacturing in Australia by taking advantage of the co-location of mining and pCAM operations.

The provision of loans with relatively low interest rates from South Korean Government–owned banks,4 as well as tax credits and energy incentives provided by the Australian Government, would assist in offsetting the relatively high operational costs (including for labour and materials) associated with establishing joint battery-material plants in Australia instead of South Korea.5 Environmental regulations will need careful consideration in assessing such proposals, such as those covering the disposal of by-products. In the case of sodium sulphate, that by-product can be used in fertilisers and even recycled for future use in battery-material manufacturing.6

Recommendation 2: Consider the establishment of facilities in Australia under joint venture arrangements between Australian and South Korean companies to enable expanded production of battery materials (including lithium hydroxide and pCAM).

Space and satellite technologies

Australia and South Korea should establish a government-to-government agreement that would facilitate the launch of South Korean satellites from northern and southern locations in Australia. This would be similar to the Australia–US Technologies Safeguard Agreement. The agreement would increase the ease with which companies from both countries can pursue joint launches by streamlining launch permit application processes, export controls, taxation requirements and environmental regulations. The agreement can establish a robust framework for joint operations and continued R&D in space and satellite technologies while ensuring that both countries protect associated sensitive technologies. Any such agreement should prioritise consultations with community stakeholders to further inclusive decision-making focused on addressing the social and environmental impacts of space launches.7 Engaging with Indigenous landowners to ensure the protection of cultural heritage, sacred sites and traditional land stewardship is particularly key.8

Recommendation 3: Establish a government-to-government agreement similar to the Australia–US Technologies Safeguard Agreement to bolster the ease with which Australian and South Korean companies can conduct joint satellite launches on Australian soil.

Artificial intelligence technologies

Closer collaboration between Standards Australia and the Korea Standards Association in establishing international AI standards will be beneficial. The established positive record of Australian and South Korean stakeholders in relation to international norms and standards relating to critical technologies, and comparative regional strengths, provide a means to ensure that international AI standards continue to evolve in a way that fosters interoperability, innovation, transparency, diversity and security-by-design. One recommended body through which Australian and South Korean stakeholders could coordinate their respective approaches is the international, industry-led multistakeholder joint subcommittee (SC) created by the International Organization for Standardization (ISO) and the International Electrotechnical Commission (IEC) known as the ISO/IEC Joint Technical Committee 1 Subcommittee 42 on AI (ISO/IEC JTC 1/SC 42).

Recommendation 4: Coordinate the approach of Standards Australia and the Korea Standards Association in establishing international AI standards in international technology standards bodies, for example, through ISO/IEC JTC 1/SC 42.

Full Report

For the full report, please download here.

  1. J Wong Leung, S Robin, D Cave, ASPI’s two-decade Critical Technology Tracker, ASPI, Canberra, 28 August 2024, online. ↩︎
  2. Austrade, ‘Australia: A go-to destination for clinical trials’. ↩︎
  3. ‘Western Australian Nickel to temporarily suspend operations’, BHP, 11 July 2024, online. ↩︎
  4. Government-owned banks in South Korea are currently funding a similar joint venture in the form of the POSCO – Pilbara Minerals lithium hydroxide facility in South Korea. For more information, see A Orlando, ‘POSCO Pilbara Lithium Solution executes US$460 million loan agreement to help fund chemical facility in South Korea’, Mining.com.au, 27 February 2023, online. ↩︎
  5. In particular, the high cost of a joint lithium hydroxide plant in Australia rather than South Korea was the primary reason for the joint POSCO – Pilbara Minerals plant to be built in Gwangyang, South Korea. For more information, see P Kerr, ‘Lithium processing is 40pc cheaper in South Korea, says POSCO’, Australian Financial Review, 22 May 2023, online. ↩︎
  6. M Stevens, ‘Cathode manufacturing: solutions for sodium sulphate’, Worley, 29 May 2024, online. ↩︎
  7. ‘Koonibba Test Range launches large commercial rocket’, Asia–Pacific Defence Reporter (APDR), 6 May 2024, online; J Hamilton, A Costigan, ‘Koonibba looks to the future as a rocket launch site, but one elder is concerned about the impact on sacred sites’, ABC News, 11 May 2024, online. ↩︎
  8. M Garrick, ‘Equatorial Launch Australia lodges plans for expansion to 300 hectares for Arnhem Space Centre’, ABC News, 8 November 2023, online. ↩︎

Persuasive technologies in China: Implications for the future of national security

Key Findings

The rapid adoption of persuasive technologies—any digital system that shapes users’ attitudes and behaviours by exploiting physiological and cognitive reactions or vulnerabilities—will challenge national security in ways that are difficult to predict. Emerging persuasive technologies such as generative artificial intelligence (AI), ambient technologies and neurotechnology interact with the human mind and body in far more intimate and subconscious ways, and at far greater speed and efficiency, than previous technologies. This presents malign actors with the ability to sway opinions and actions without the conscious autonomy of users.

Regulation is struggling to keep pace. Over the past decade, the swift development and adoption of these technologies have outpaced responses by liberal democracies, highlighting the urgent need for more proactive approaches that prioritise privacy and user autonomy. That means protecting and enhancing the ability of users to make conscious and informed decisions about how they’re interacting with technology and for what purpose.

China’s commercial sector is already a global leader in developing and using persuasive technologies. The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) tightly controls China’s private sector and mandates that Chinese companies—especially technology companies—work towards China’s national-security interests. This presents a risk that the CCP could use persuasive technologies commercially developed in China to pursue illiberal and authoritarian ends, both domestically and abroad, through such means as online influence campaigns, targeted psychological operations, transnational repression, cyber operations and enhanced military capabilities.

ASPI has identified several prominent Chinese companies that already have their persuasive technologies at work for China’s propaganda, military and public-security agencies. They include:

  • Midu—a language intelligence technology company that provides generative AI tools used by Chinese Government and CCP bureaus to enhance the party-state’s control of public opinion. Those capabilities could also be used for foreign interference (see page 4).
  • Suishi—a pioneer in neurotechnology that’s developing an online emotion detection and evaluation system to interpret and respond to human emotions in real time. The company is an important partner of Tianjin University’s Haihe Lab (see page 16), which has been highly acclaimed for its research with national-security applications (see page 17).
  • Goertek—an electronics manufacturer that has achieved global prominence for smart wearables and virtual-reality (VR) devices. This company collaborates on military–civil integration projects with the CCP’s military and security organs and has developed a range of products with dual-use applications, such as drone-piloting training devices (see page 20).

ASPI has further identified case studies of Chinese technology companies, including Silicon Intelligence, OneSight and Mobvoi, that are leading in the development of persuasive technologies spanning generative AI, neurotechnologies and emerging ambient systems. We find that those companies have used such solutions in support of the CCP in diverse ways—including overt and attributable propaganda campaigns, disinformation campaigns targeting foreign audiences, and military–civil fusion projects.

Introduction

Persuasive technologies—or technologies with persuasive characteristics—are tools and systems designed to shape users’ decision-making, attitudes or behaviours by exploiting people’s physiological and cognitive reactions or vulnerabilities.1 Compared to technologies we presently use, persuasive technologies collect more data, analyse more deeply and generate more insights that are more intimately tailored to us as individuals.

With current consumer technologies, influence is achieved through content recommendations that reflect algorithms learning from the choices we consciously make (at least initially). At a certain point, a person’s capacity to choose then becomes constrained because of a restricted information environment that reflects and reinforces their opinions—the so-called echo-chamber effect. With persuasive technologies, influence is achieved through a more direct connection with intimate physiological and emotional reactions. That risks removing human choice from the process entirely and steering choices without an individual’s full awareness. Such technologies won’t just shape what we do: they have the potential to influence who we are.

Many countries and companies are working to harness the power of emerging technologies with persuasive characteristics, such as generative artificial intelligence (AI), wearable devices and brain–computer interfaces, but the People’s Republic of China (PRC) and its technology companies pose a unique challenge. The Chinese party-state combines a rapidly advancing tech industry with a political system and ideology that mandate companies to align with CCP objectives, driving the creation and use of persuasive technologies for political purposes (see ‘How the CCP is using persuasive technologies’, page 21). That synergy enables China to develop cutting-edge innovations while directing their application towards maintaining regime stability domestically, reshaping the international order, challenging democratic values and undermining global human-rights norms.

There’s already extensive research on how the CCP and its military are adopting technology in cognitive warfare to ‘win without fighting’—a strategy to acquire the means to shape adversaries’ psychological states and behaviours (see Appendix 2: Persuasive technologies in China’s ‘cognitive warfare’, page 29).2 Separately, academics have considered the manipulative methods of surveillance capitalism, especially on issues of addiction, child safety and privacy .3 However, there’s limited research on the intersection of those two topics; that is, attempts by the Chinese party-state to exploit commercially available emerging technologies to advance its political objectives. This report is one of the first to explore that intersection.

Chinese technology, advertising and public-relations companies have made substantial advances in harnessing such tools, from mobile push notifications and social-media algorithms to AI-generated content. Many of those companies have achieved global success. Access to the personal data of foreign users is at an all-time high, and Chinese companies are now a fixed staple on the world’s most downloaded mobile apps lists, unlike just five years ago.44 While many persuasive technologies have clear commercial purposes, their potential for political and national-security exploitation—both inside and outside China—is also profound.

This report seeks to break through the ‘Collingridge dilemma’, in which control and understanding of emerging technologies come too late to mitigate the consequences of those technologies.55 The report analyses generative AI, neurotechnologies and immersive technologies and focuses on key advances being made by PRC companies in particular. It examines the national-security implications of persuasive technologies designed and developed in China, and what that means for policymakers and regulators outside China as those technologies continue to roll out globally.

Persuasive-technology capabilities are evolving rapidly, and concepts of and approaches to regulation are struggling to keep pace. The national-security implications of technologies that are designed to drive users towards certain behaviours are becoming apparent. Democratic governments have acted slowly and reactively to those challenges over the past decade. There’s an urgent need for more fit-for-purpose, proactive and adaptive approaches to regulating persuasive technologies. Protecting user autonomy and privacy must sit at the core of those efforts. Looking forward, persuasive technologies are set to become even more sophisticated and pervasive, and the consequences of their use are increasingly difficult to detect. Accordingly, the policy recommendations set out here focus on preparing for and countering the potential malicious use of the next generation of those technologies.

Full Report

For the full report, please download here.

References

  1. First defined by Brian J Fogg in Persuasive technology: using computers to change what we think and do, Morgan Kaufmann, 2003. ↩︎
  2. See, for example, Nathan Beauchamp-Mustafaga, Chinese next-generation psychological warfare, RAND Corporation, Santa Monica, 1 June 2023, online; Elsa B Kania, ‘Minds at war: China’s pursuit of military advantage through cognitive science and biotechnology’, PRISM, 2019, 8(3):82–101, online; Department of Defense, Annual report to Congress; Military and security developments involving the People’s Republic of China, US Government, 19 October 2023, online. ↩︎
  3. Shoshana Zuboff, The Age of Surveillance Capitalism: the fight for a human future at the new frontier of power, Ingram Publisher Services, 2017. ↩︎
  4. Examples of Chinese-owned apps that are among the most downloaded globally include Tiktok, CapCut (a ByteDance-owned video editor) and the e-commerce platforms Temu and Shein. See David Curry, ‘Most popular apps (2024)’, Business of Apps, 30 January 2024, online. ↩︎
  5. Richard Worthington, ‘The social control of technology by David Collingridge’, American Political Science Review, 1982, 76(1):134–135; David Collingridge,
    The social control of technology, St Martin’s Press, New York, 1980. ↩︎

ASPI’s two-decade Critical Technology Tracker: The rewards of long-term research investment

The Critical Technology Tracker is a large data-driven project that now covers 64 critical technologies spanning defence, space, energy, the environment, artificial intelligence, biotechnology, robotics, cyber, computing, advanced materials and key quantum technology areas. It provides a leading indicator of a country’s research performance, strategic intent and potential future science and technology capability.

It first launched 1 March 2023 and underwent a major expansion on 28 August 2024 which took the dataset from five years (previously, 2018–2022) to 21 years (2003–2023). Explore the website and the broader project here.

Governments and organisations interested in supporting this ongoing program of work, including further expansions and the addition of new technologies, can contact: criticaltech@aspi.org.au.

Executive Summary

This report accompanies a major update of ASPI’s Critical Technology Tracker website,1 which reveals the countries and institutions—universities, national labs, companies and government agencies—leading scientific and research innovation in critical technologies. It does that by focusing on high-impact research—the top 10% of the most highly cited papers—as a leading indicator of a country’s research performance, strategic intent and potential future science and technology (S&T) capability.

Now covering 64 critical technologies and crucial fields spanning defence, space, energy, the environment, artificial intelligence (AI), biotechnology, robotics, cyber, computing, advanced materials and key quantum technology areas, the Tech Tracker’s dataset has been expanded and updated from five years of data (previously, 2018–2022)2 to 21 years of data (2003–2023).3

These new results reveal the stunning shift in research leadership over the past two decades towards large economies in the Indo-Pacific, led by China’s exceptional gains. The US led in 60 of 64 technologies in the five years from 2003 to 2007, but in the most recent five years (2019–2023) is leading in seven. China led in just three of 64 technologies in 2003–20074 but is now the lead country in 57 of 64 technologies in 2019–2023, increasing its lead from our rankings last year (2018–2022), where it was leading in 52 technologies.

India is also emerging as a key centre of global research innovation and excellence, establishing its position as an S&T power. That said, the US, the UK and a range of countries from Europe, Northeast Asia and the Middle East have maintained hard-won strengths in high-impact research in some key technology areas, despite the accelerated efforts of emerging S&T powers.

This report examines short- and long-term trends, to generate unique insights. We have updated the recent five-year results (2019–2023) to show current research performance rankings (top 5 country results are in Appendix 1). We have also analysed our new historical dataset to understand the country and institutional trends in research performance over the full 21-year period. In select technologies we have also made projections, based on current trends, for China and the US to 2030.

The results show the points in time at which countries have gained, lost or are at risk of losing their global edge in scientific research and innovation. The historical data provides a new layer of depth and context, revealing the performance trajectory different countries have taken, where the momentum lies and also where longer term dominance over the full two decades might reflect foundational expertise and capabilities that carry forward even when that leader has been edged out more recently by other countries. The results also help to shed light on the countries, and many of the institutions, from which we’re likely to see future innovations and breakthroughs emerge.

China’s new gains have occurred in quantum sensors, high-performance computing, gravitational sensors, space launch and advanced integrated circuit design and fabrication (semiconductor chip making). The US leads in quantum computing, vaccines and medical countermeasures, nuclear medicine and radiotherapy, small satellites, atomic clocks, genetic engineering and natural language processing.

India now ranks in the top 5 countries for 45 of 64 technologies (an increase from 37 last year) and has displaced the US as the second-ranked country in two new technologies (biological manufacturing and distributed ledgers) to rank second in seven of 64 technologies. Another notable change involves the UK, which has dropped out of the top 5 country rankings in eight technologies, declining from 44 last year to 36 now.

Besides India and the UK, the performance of most secondary S&T research powers (those countries ranked behind China and the US) in the top 5 rankings is largely unchanged: Germany (27), South Korea (24), Italy (15), Iran (8), Japan (8) and Australia (7).

We have continued to measure the risk of countries holding a monopoly in research for some critical technologies, based on the share of high-impact research output and the number of leading institutions the dominant country has. The number of technologies classified as ‘high risk’ has jumped from 14 technologies last year to 24 now. China is the lead country in every one of the technologies newly classified as high risk—putting a total of 24 of 64 technologies at high risk of a Chinese monopoly. Worryingly, the technologies newly classified as high risk includes many with defence applications, such as radar, advanced aircraft engines, drones, swarming and collaborative robots and satellite positioning and navigation.

In terms of institutions, US technology companies, including Google, IBM, Microsoft and Meta, have leading or strong positions in artificial intelligence (AI), quantum and computing technologies. Key government agencies and national labs also perform well, including the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA), which excels in space and satellite technologies. The results also show that the Chinese Academy of Sciences (CAS)—thought to be the world’s largest S&T institution5—is by far the world’s highest performing institution in the Critical Tech Tracker, with a global lead in 31 of 64 technologies (an increase from 29 last year, see more on CAS in the breakout box on page 19).

The results in this report should serve as a reminder to governments around the world that gaining and maintaining scientific and research excellence isn’t a tap that can be turned on and off. Too often, countries have slowed or stopped investing in, for example, research and development (R&D) and manufacturing capability, in areas in which they had a long-term competitive advantage (5G technologies are an example6). In a range of essential sectors, democratic nations risk losing hard-won, long-term advantages in cutting-edge science and research—the crucial ingredient that underpins much of the development and advancement of the world’s most important technologies. There’s also a risk that retreats in some areas could mean that democratic nations aren’t well positioned to take advantage of new and emerging technologies, including those that don’t exist yet.

Meanwhile, the longitudinal results in the Critical Tech Tracker enable us to see how China’s enormous investments and decades of strategic planning are now paying off.7

Building technological capability requires a sustained investment in, and an accumulation of, scientific knowledge, talent and high-performing institutions that can’t be acquired through only short-term or ad hoc investments.8 Reactive policies by new governments and the sugar hit of immediate budget savings must be balanced against the cost of losing the advantage gained from decades of investment and strategic planning. While China continues to extend its lead, it’s important for other states to take stock of their historical, combined and complementary strengths in all key critical technology areas.

This report is made up of several sections. Below you’ll find a summary of the key country and institutional findings followed by an explanation of why tracking historical research performance matters. We then further analyse the nuances of China’s lead and briefly explain our methodology (see Appendix 2 for a detailed methodology). We also look more closely at 10 critical technology areas, including those relevant to AI, semiconductors, defence, energy, biotechnology and communications. Appendix 1 contains visual snapshots of top 5 country rankings in the 64 critical technologies.

We encourage you to visit ASPI’s Critical Technology Tracker website (https://techtracker.aspi.org.au) and explore the new data.

What is ASPI’s Critical Technology Tracker?

ASPI’s Critical Technology Tracker is a unique dataset that allows users to track 64 technologies that are foundational for our economies, societies, national security, defence, energy production, health and climate security. It focuses on the top 10% of the most highly cited research publications from the past 21 years (2003–2023).9 The new dataset is analysed to generate insights into which countries and institutions—universities, national labs, companies and government agencies—are publishing the greatest share of innovative and high-impact research. We use the top 10% because those publications have a higher impact on the full technology life cycle and are more likely to lead to patents, drive future research innovation and underpin technological breakthroughs.10

Critical technologies are current or emerging technologies that have the potential to enhance or threaten our societies, economies and national security. Most are dual- or multi-use and have applications in a wide range of sectors. By focusing early in the science and technology (S&T) life cycle, rather than examining technologies already in existence and fielded, the Critical Technology Tracker doesn’t just provide insights into a country’s research performance, but also its strategic intent and potential future S&T capability. It’s only one piece of the puzzle, of course: it must be acknowledged that actualising and commercialising research performance into major technological gains, no matter how impressive a breakthrough is, can be a difficult, expensive and complicated process. A range of other inputs are needed, such as an efficient manufacturing base and ambitious policy implementation.

The Tech Tracker’s dataset has now been expanded and updated from five years of data (previously, 2018–2022)11 to 21 years of data (2003–2023). This follows previous attempts to benchmark research output across nations by focusing on quality over quantity, key technology areas and individual institutions, as well as short-term, long-term and potential future trends. This update continues ASPI’s investment in creating the highest quality dataset of its kind.12

Both the website and two associated reports (this one included) provide decision-makers with an empirical methodology to inform policy and investment decisions, including decisions on which countries and institutions they partner with and in what technology areas. A list of the 64 technologies, including definitions, is on our website.13 Other parts of this project include:

  • the Tech Tracker website: ASPI’s Critical Technology Tracker14 contains an enormous amount of original data analysis. We encourage you to explore these datasets online as you engage with this report. Users can compare countries, regions or groupings (the EU, the Quad, China–Russia etc.) and explore the global flow of research talent for each technology.
  • the 2023 report: We encourage readers to explore the original report, ASPI’s Critical Technology Tracker: the global race for future power.15 In addition to analysing last year’s key findings, it outlined why research is vital for S&T advances and it examined China’s S&T vision. The report also made 23 policy recommendations, which remain relevant today.16
  • visual snapshots: Readers looking for a summary of the top 5 countries ranked by their past five years of performance in all 64 technologies (see example below) can jump to Appendix 1.
Example of the visual snapshots depicted further in the report.

Data source: ASPI Critical Technology Tracker.

Full Report

For the full report, please download here.

  1. Critical Technology Tracker, ASPI, Canberra. ↩︎
  2. Jamie Gaida, Jennifer Wong Leung, Stephan Robin, Danielle Cave, ASPI’s Critical Technology Tracker: the global race for future power, ASPI, Canberra, 1 March 2023. ↩︎
  3. 21-year dataset with improved search terms and institution cleaning, see Methodology for more details. ↩︎
  4. In the early years, such as 2003–2007, some of the 64 technologies have not yet emerged and the credits assigned to top countries or institutions are too low to be statistically significant. Where this is the case we have avoided pulling key insights from the rankings of countries and institutions in these technologies. ↩︎
  5. Bec Crew, ‘Nature Index 2024 Research Leaders: Chinese institutions dominate the top spots’, Nature, 18 June 2024. ↩︎
  6. Elsa B Kania, ‘Opinion: Why doesn’t the US have its own Huawei?’, Politico, 25 February 2020. ↩︎
  7. See, for example, Zachary Arnold, ‘China has become a scientific superpower’, The Economist, 12 June 2024.
    ‘China’, Nature, 9 August 2023, https://www.nature.com/collections/efchdhgeci ;
    ‘China’s science and technology vision’ and ‘China’s breakout research capabilities in defence, security and intelligence technologies’ in Gaida et al.
    ASPI’s Critical Technology Tracker: The global race for future power, 14–20; Tarun Chhabra et al., ‘Global China: Technology’, Brookings Institution, April 2020, https://www.brookings.edu/articles/global-china-technology/ ;
    Jason Douglas and Clarence Leong. “The U.S. Has Been Spending Billions to Revive Manufacturing. But China Is in Another League”, The Wall Street Journal, August 3, 2024, https://www.wsj.com/world/china/the-u-s-has-been-spending-billions-to-revive-manufacturing-but-china-is-in-another-league-75ed6309 . ↩︎
  8. Eva Harris, ‘Building scientific capacity in developing countries’, EMBO Reports, 1 January 2004, 5, 7–11. ↩︎
  9. These technologies were selected through a review process in 2022–23 that combined our own research with elements from the Australian Government’s 2022 list of critical technologies, and lists compiled by other governments. An archived version of the Australian Government’s list is available: Department of Industry, Science and Resources, ‘List of critical technologies in the national interest’, Australian Government, 28 November 2022.
    In May 2023, the Australian Government revised their list: Department of Industry, Science and Resources, ‘List of critical technologies in the national interest’, Australian Government, 19 May 2023, https://www.industry.gov.au/publications/list-critical-technologies-national-interest .
    A US list is available from National Science and Technology Council, ‘Critical and emerging technologies list update’, US Government, February 2022, https://www.whitehouse.gov/wp-content/uploads/2022/02/02-2022-Critical-and-Emerging-Technologies-List-Update.pdf .
    On our selection of AUKUS Pillar 2 technologies, see Alexandra Caples et al., ‘AUKUS: three partners, two pillars, one problem’, TheStrategist, 6 June 2023, https://www.aspistrategist.org.au/aukus-three-partners-two-pillars-one-problem/ . ↩︎
  10. Felix Poege et al., ‘Science quality and the value of inventions’, Science Advances, 11 December 2019, 5(12):eaay7323;
    Cherng Ding, et al., ‘Exploring paper characteristics that facilitate the knowledge flow from science to technology’, Journal of Informetrics, February 2017, 11(1):244–256, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.joi.2016.12.004 ;
    Gaida et al., ASPI’s Critical Technology Tracker: The global race for future power, 9. ↩︎
  11. Jamie Gaida, Jennifer Wong Leung, Stephan Robin, Danielle Cave, ASPI’s Critical Technology Tracker: The global race for future power. ↩︎
  12. See more details in the full methodology in Appendix 2. ↩︎
  13. ‘List of technologies’, Critical Technology Tracker. ↩︎
  14. Critical Technology Tracker ↩︎
  15. See Jamie Gaida, Jennifer Wong-Leung, Stephan Robin, Danielle Cave, ASPI’s Critical Technology Tracker: the global race for future power. ↩︎
  16. Jamie Gaida, Jennifer Wong-Leung, Stephan Robin, Danielle Cave, ASPI’s Critical Technology Tracker: the global race for future power, 44. ↩︎

When China knocks at the door of New Caledonia

China’s covert foreign interference activities in the Pacific are a very important, and yet under-researched, topic. This report uses New Caledonia as the case study to examine China’s hidden front, 隐蔽战线, throughout the wider Pacific.

Successive months of violence and unrest in New Caledonia in 2024, have heightened regional and international awareness of the uncertain future of the territory, and the role of China in that future. The unrest erupted after France pushed through legislation extending voting rights in the territory.

The CCP has engaged in a range of foreign interference activities in New Caledonia over many decades, targeting political and economic elites, and attempting to utilise the ethnic Chinese diaspora and PRC companies as tools of CCP interests. Local elites have at times actively courted China’s assistance, willingly working with CCP front organisations.

Assessing the extent of China’s foreign interference in New Caledonia is a legitimate and necessary inquiry. The debate about China’s interests, intentions and activities in the territory has lacked concrete, publicly available evidence until now. This study aims to help fill that lacuna. The report draws on open-source data collection and analysis in Chinese, French and English. It was also informed by interviews and discussions that took place during my visits to New Caledonia and France in 2018, 2019, 2022 and 2023, as well as conversations in New Zealand.

My research shows that the French Government and New Caledonian authorities are working to manage risks in the China – New Caledonia relationship. Moreover, civil society, the New Caledonian media, many politicians, and Kanak traditional leadership have also had a role in restraining the extent of the CCP’s foreign interference activities in New Caledonia. Few Pacific Island peoples would welcome a relationship of dependency with China or having the Pacific become part of a China-centred order.

The report concludes by recommending that New Caledonia be included in all regional security discussions as an equal partner. New Caledonia needs to rebalance its economy and it needs help with the rebuild from the riots. Supportive partner states should work with France and New Caledonia to facilitate this.

Ice panda: navigating China’s hybrid Antarctic agenda

Antarctica is often overlooked in strategic discussions, but its role in geopolitical competition deserves attention.

This report assesses the continents importance to Australian security, China’s hybrid Antarctic activity, and the need for Australia to develop a balancing strategy capable of bolstering the Antarctic Treaty and ‘pushing back’ against growing Chinese power in Antarctica.

Antarctica offers significant strategic advantages for the People’s Republic of China (PRC). Although Beijing’s actions in Antarctica may not overtly violate the Antarctic Treaty (AT), they effectively undermine its principles and, by extension, Australia’s strategic interests. Currently, the PRC is adeptly navigating the AT System to challenge the status quo without explicitly breaching the treaty.

China’s domestic policies, which merge civil and military sectors, appear to contravene the spirit of the AT’s military prohibitions, even if they have not yet resulted in direct military activity on the continent. This evolving dynamic underscores the pressing need for Australia to safeguard the existing Antarctic status quo.

With robust Australian foreign and security prioritization, the AT can counter Beijing’s growing ambitions, which may directly impact Australian interests. We must protect and uphold the principles of the AT.

With diverse domestic and international priorities, Australia must not neglect Antarctica, as Beijing continues to exploit the strategic gap left by our limited focus. Australia, with its rich history and commitment to Antarctica, must assert its role as an Antarctic claimant and clarify that China’s presence is contingent on Australian and other claimants’ cooperation. It’s time for Australia to lead in Antarctica and protect our strategic interests.

The geopolitics of water: How the Brahmaputra River could shape India–China security competition

This report assesses the geopolitical impact of a possible dam at the Great Bend of the Brahmaputra. In particular, it exams the dam as a potential source of coercive leverage China may gain over India. A dam there would create four likely strategic effects: it would very likely consolidate Beijing’s political control over its distant borderlands; it would create the potential for massive flooding as a tool of violence; it may affect human settlement and economic patterns on the Indian side of the border, downstream; and it would give Beijing water and data that it could withhold from India as bargaining leverage in unrelated negotiations.

To mitigate those challenges and risks, the report provides three policy recommendations for the Indian Government and its partners in Australia and the US. First, it recommends the establishment of an open-source, publicly available data repository, based on satellite sensing, to disseminate information about the physical impacts of the Great Bend Dam. Second, it recommends that like-minded governments use international legal arguments to pressure Beijing to abide by global norms and conventions. Third, it recommends that the Quad—the informal group comprising Australia, India, Japan and the US—use its humanitarian assistance and disaster relief (HADR) guidelines to begin to share information and build capacity for dam-related contingencies.

Truth and reality with Chinese characteristics

ChineseFrench and Spanish translations are now available.

Executive Summary

The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) is leveraging its propaganda system to build a toolkit to enable information campaigns. Its objective is to control communication and shape narratives and perceptions about China in order to present a specific version of truth and reality, both domestically and internationally. Ultimately, the CCP aims to strengthen its grip on power, legitimise its activities and bolster China’s cultural, technological, economic and military influence.

The CCP seeks to maintain total control over the information environment within China, while simultaneously working to extend its influence abroad to reshape the global information ecosystem. That includes not only controlling media and communications platforms outside China, but also ensuring that Chinese technologies and companies become the foundational layer for the future of information and data exchange worldwide.

This research report finds that the CCP seeks to harvest data from various sources, including commercial entities, to gain insights into target audiences for its information campaigns. We define an information campaign as a targeted, organised plan of related and integrated information operations, employing information-related capabilities (tools, techniques or activities) with other lines of operation to influence, disrupt, corrupt or manipulate information — including the individual or collective decision making based on that information — and deliberately disseminated on a large scale. The party also invests in emerging technologies such as artificial intelligence (AI) and immersive technologies that shape how people perceive reality and engage with information. The aim is to gain greater control, if not dominance, over the global information ecosystem.

To understand the drivers, tools and outcomes of that process, this report and its accompanying website (ChinaInfoBlocks.aspi.org.au) examine the activities of the People’s Republic of China (PRC) in the information domain, particularly its investments in technology and research and development (R&D) companies that might serve as ‘building blocks’ for the party’s information campaigns.

Specifically, this research comprehensively maps the CCP’s propaganda system, highlighting the linkages between the Central Propaganda Department, state-owned or -controlled propaganda entities and data-collection activities, and technology investments in Chinese companies, many of which now operate globally.

This research illustrates the various ways in which the party-state is leveraging the propaganda system and commercial entities to gain access to data that it deems strategically valuable for the propaganda system and its ongoing information operations. It also shows how the propaganda system uses new and emerging technologies, including generative AI, mobile gaming and immersive technologies, to establish and maintain control of the narrative and continuously refine its toolbox and techniques.

It’s imperative that policymakers develop robust defences and countermeasures against future disruptive information campaigns from Beijing and to ensure an open and secure global information environment. In mapping those companies linked to China’s propaganda system that are seeking market dominance in key technologies, and how their activities may support CCP efforts to shape the global information environment, this project aims to inform government and industry decisions on digital supply-chain security, supporting policies for safer and more secure digital technologies.

The first section of this report lays out the fundamentals of CCP theory that have, over decades, defined the party-state’s strategy in the information domain. A theoretical understanding of how the CCP conceptualises its goals is important in unpacking the different tools used to achieve them. The second section outlines the CCP’s complex and vast propaganda system and how it works. Later sections expand on the ways in which CCP theory underpins the propaganda system and its activities, including through practical examples and case studies.

This report is accompanied by a website that offers detailed network diagrams of the relationships between China’s propaganda system and the companies associated with it: directly, through a state-ownership structure linking back to the propaganda system, or indirectly, through significant state support. The website also hosts case studies relevant to the report findings. The map can be explored on the website, Identifying The Building Blocks of China’s Information Campaigns (ChinaInfoBlocks.aspi.org.au).

figure 1
Source: Screenshot of ChinaInfoBlocks.aspi.org.au dataset, ASPI.

Research methodology

The CCP’s propaganda efforts on social media have been widely studied, enabling a baseline understanding of common narratives and tactics. Previous ASPI research, for example, has tracked a persistent, large-scale influence campaign linked to Chinese state actors on Twitter and Facebook.1 Several other research institutes have published important research on how the Chinese party-state attempts to control the information environment globally.2

China’s propaganda system is a vast structure. Under its direct control or with its direct support are a web of additional entities whose portfolio contributes to the party’s ability to meet its strategic aims in the information environment. Countries that understand the ‘invisible architecture’ of the CCP’s propaganda system and technologies will be better able to address and respond to its global efforts to skew the information environment.

Important research questions remain understudied. In particular, research on the building blocks that need to be in place to support and inform successful efforts to shape the information environment is limited. What’s the Chinese party-state doing to build its capacity to control ‘truth’ and influence how external audiences perceive, engage with and question reality?

To bridge that knowledge gap, this project examines how the party-state is leveraging the propaganda system:

  1. through commercial entities, by collecting data or gaining access to datasets that it deems strategically valuable that could be used for propaganda purposes, including potentially for current or future information operations (for example, undertaking data-collection activities that build the party-state’s capacity to generate insights on current or potential targets of information operations)
  2. through state support, by investing in R&D and access to new and emerging technology to shape or distort the information environment both domestically and globally.

Our project is based on ASPI’s 2019 report, Engineering global consent. That report first identified Global Tone Communications Technology (GTCOM), a machine-translation company that’s controlled by the CCP Central Propaganda Department. GTCOM claims that it accesses data from social media and has downstream access to datasets of the internet of things (IoT) and software products that it supplies, mainly to other PRC technology companies, to generate insights to support China’s state security and propaganda work.3

Building on Engineering global consent, we’ve sought to identify and explain how the Chinese party-state’s expansive propaganda system exploits new and emerging technologies and seeks to shape or distort the information environment both domestically and globally. To answer these questions, we generated network graphs describing the relationships between companies in our dataset, which are mostly Chinese state-owned or backed by state funds, with direct links to the propaganda system and other entities. We used that research to better understand areas of business activity associated with the PRC’s propaganda system, especially when such activity is related to data collection, aggregation and processing.

Our research effort involved identifying entities linked to the Propaganda Department of the Chinese Communist Party’s Central Committee (‘the Central Propaganda Department’), provincial-level propaganda departments, or other party-state bodies linked to the propaganda system, such as the Ministry of Culture and Tourism. This project began with a months-long effort to build a network graph of companies that were directly and indirectly linked to the Central Propaganda Department. Our research included looking for subsidiaries, shareholders and strategic cooperation and MoU partners of the companies we identified. Our information sources focused on PRC-based company databases and shareholders, and included company websites, company press releases and corporate disclosure documents. We then narrowed the scope of our research to focus on the specific case studies covered in this report.

Party-state news and publishing outlets were included in our research because the Central Propaganda Department is responsible for the supervision of news and publishing work, and those outlets are key platforms for disseminating information. However, rather than simply mapping out the names of media and publishing outlets, and their publication outputs domestically in China and overseas, our research emphasis was on identifying where those outlets are establishing branches or partnerships that expand their business activity into areas of business related to new and emerging technology.

While this research has revealed large amounts of previously inaccessible information on Chinese companies with links to the CCP’s propaganda institutions, it relies on publicly available information sources that are accessible outside mainland China. Continued research on these connections, as well as on connections between these types of companies and other parts of the party-state bureaucracy, is required.

Key findings

The report places the PRC’s propaganda system in the context of the CCP’s overall strategic frameworks, which are filtered down to specific policy outputs. Key findings are as follows:

  • The Chinese party-state sees data as central to its ability to modernise its propaganda efforts in the global information environment. Unlike the legislation of other state actors, China’s 2021 Data Security Law clearly articulates a vision for how data and data exchanges contribute to an overall national strategy (see ‘The propaganda system and its feedback loop’ at page 13). It prioritises data access and the regulation of data flows as part of its efforts to ensure control.
     That data is global. For example, China’s People’s Public Opinion Cloud combines about half a million information sources across 182 countries and 42 languages to support the Chinese Government’s and PRC enterprises’ international communication needs.4 The platform has both government and corporate applications and provides tools for public-security agencies to monitor the information environment and public sentiment on sensitive events and topics.5
  • The CCP sees emerging technology, such as e-commerce, virtual reality and gaming, as a means to promote a CCP-favoured perspective on truth and reality that supports the official narrative that the CCP seeks to project (even if those technologies may also be potentially hazardous to the party’s interests). This is especially true in relation to the CCP’s ability to conduct information campaigns and shape global information standards and foundational technologies.
     The CCP’s national key cultural export enterprises and projects lists (both the 2021–22 and 2022–2023 versions), name dozens of mobile gaming companies and mobile games that receive state support (see ‘The perception of reality’ at page 19), including subsidies, so that they can continue to enjoy global success and help advance the mission to boost China’s cultural soft power.
     In e-commerce, for example, companies such as Temu (which became the most-downloaded free iPhone app in the US in 20236) also collect large amounts of data that’s likely to be shared with the PRC’s propaganda system.7 In gaming, popular video games such as Genshin Impact, the developers of which receive Chinese state support linked to the propaganda system, create similar security risks due to the strategic value of the user data that they generate and collect.
  • Under Xi Jinping’s leadership, the CCP has renewed its emphasis on a national strategy of media convergence that brings together traditional and ‘emerging’ media across various dimensions—content, channels, platforms, operations and management—to enhance the agility of propaganda initiatives in responding to real-time shifts in public sentiment.8 Media convergence is directly linked to the perception that an absence of guidance on public opinion risks China’s security and stability. The party uses digital media, particularly the data resources that digital media help to generate, to improve its ability to use media effectively in its communications strategy and to create feedback loops in China and internationally.9

Policy recommendations

Policymakers face two key challenges: first, to apply the CCP’s way of thinking to efforts to counter information campaigns, before they’re conducted; and, second, to resist China’s efforts to shape global information standards and core foundational technologies for Web 2.0 and beyond.10

Informed by the findings contained in this report, we make the following recommendations for governments, civil society, social-media platforms and hardware and software developers and vendors:

  1. Governments should exert pressure on technology companies to conduct more thorough reviews of their digital supply chains to ensure that their Web 2.0 and future Web 3.0 foundations, and the companies and technologies that they rely on, are transparent and secure. Improving due diligence, transparency, trust and security by design in the digital supply chain, at both the technology and systems/applications layers, must be considered, especially for companies engaged in government procurements. That can be achieved by imposing more stringent reporting requirements, developing high-risk vendor frameworks, imposing and enforcing privacy and data requirements, and developing consistent data-minimisation approaches. Already the US and partner nations have sought to enhance software security by requiring companies working with governments to provide software ‘bills of materials’. The Quad Cybersecurity Partnership’s ‘joint principles for secure software’11 is an excellent template for considering enhanced transparency regulation.
     Technology companies, including vendors, platforms and developers should commit and adhere to the Cybersecurity Tech Accord, develop security by design standards, and impose greater moderation and fact-checking standards across online platforms, social media, etc. to reduce the potential for attacks on the availability, confidentiality, and integrity of data, products, services, and networks and highlight mis- and dis-information and propaganda. As China’s information campaigns seek to weaponise truth and reality, increasing vigilance, verification and veracity must be asserted to ensure information consumers are offered the best chance of identifying mis- and dis-information influences.
  2. Governments must exert significantly more policy attention to the regulation of technologies used for surveillance and related immersive technologies. Few governments have developed broad definitions of those technologies or studied their privacy and data-security impacts. As a consequence, their regulation hasn’t been effective or focused on their future societal and national-security implications. More specifically:
     Governments should define machine learning and cloud data as surveillance or dual-use goods. For example, the European Union has identified dual-use applications of AI systems as an area of concern in their assessment process as part of the Ethics Guidelines for Trustworthy AI.12 The Council of Europe has also raised concerns with the Pegasus surveillance software.13 The US has identified cloud data as an export under the Export Administration Regulations that may attract dual-use controls. While these efforts are significant, regulation still lags the use of machine learning and cloud data by companies and governments, resulting in inconsistent application, a situation rife for exploitation by authoritarian regimes. Governments should standardise and tighten regulation on the technologies and services not traditionally understood as surveillance or dual-use (data) products, including data-generating products and services in e-commerce gaming industries. Doing so would enable them to apply traditional tool sets for preventing access to goods of that nature, such as export controls, technologies and services not traditionally understood as surveillance or dual-use (data) products, including data-generating products and services in e-commerce gaming industries.
     Additionally, increased transparency in regard to which technology actors and entities, whether they’re involved in R&D activities or product sales, are acting on behalf of state interests could clarify what data is used for surveillance purposes and what data can be used to undermine another state’s sovereignty.
  3. To further increase transparency, governments should also more clearly define which individual actors and entities are required to register under foreign-agent registration schemes. That includes Australia’s Foreign Influence Transparency Scheme, the US Foreign Agents Registration Act (FARA) and emerging equivalents elsewhere, such as the UK’s upcoming foreign influence registration scheme. The US, for example, used FARA to force PRC state-owned media companies such as Xinhua and CGTN to register as state agents.14Based on the same logic, any technology company linked directly to China’s propaganda system or receiving state support to facilitate the party-state’s propaganda efforts could be required to register.
  4. Internationally, governments should work to standardise the ways in which data is shared, and proactively regulate how it can be produced and stored. Efforts thus far have failed to reach accord, and many have been siloed within specific functional domains (such as meteorological data, social services, food and agriculture, finance and so on). Such efforts can reduce opportunities for authoritarian regimes to collect, use and misuse data in ways that harm ethnic communities, disparage and denigrate alternative perspectives and silence dissent in the global information environment. The International Organization for Standardization, together with the UN Centre for Trade Facilitation and Electronic Business, among others, should establish joint government–industry standardisation mechanisms.
  5. Multilaterally, democratic governments should work together to develop a stronger institutional understanding of the future vulnerabilities and risks of new technologies, particularly in the digital technology ecosystem. That understanding should guide the development of new standards for emergent technologies and assist industry to commercialise those technologies with the goal of safety and security by design. The Quad Principles on Critical and Emerging Technology Standards are a good example of work that needs to occur on the future vulnerabilities and risks of new technologies.
  6. Locally, governments and civil society should establish guardrails against the negative impacts of CCP efforts to shape the information environment, including through information campaigns such as media literacy and critical thinking campaigns targeting individuals and communities. Efforts should not only help users understand what’s ‘real’ and what’s ‘fake’, but also ensure that they have broader awareness of how entities supporting foreign information campaigns may be present in their supply chains, so that risks associated with them are identified and more reliably controlled.

Full Report

For the full report, please download here.

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Chinese translation is available here.

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French translation is available here.

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Spanish translation is available here.

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  1. Tom Uren, Elise Thomas, Jacob Wallis, Tweeting through the Great Firewall, ASPI, Canberra, 3 September 2019, online; Jacob Wallis, Tom Uren, Elise Thomas, Albert Zhang, Samantha Hoffman, Lin Li, Alexandra Pascoe, Danielle Cave, Retweeting through the Great Firewall, ASPI, Canberra, 12 June 2020, online; Albert Zhang, Tilla Hoja, Jasmine Latimore, Gaming public opinion, ASPI, Canberra, 26 April 2023, online. ↩︎
  2. Freedom House, for example, found in its survey of CCP media influence in 30 countries that ‘the Chinese government and its proxies are using more sophisticated, covert, and coercive tactics—including intensified censorship and intimidation, deployment of fake social media accounts, and increased mass distribution of Beijing-backed content via mainstream media—to spread pro-CCP narratives, promote falsehoods, and suppress unfavourable news coverage.’ See ‘Beijing’s global media influence 2022: Authoritarian expansion and the power of democratic resilience’, Freedom House, 8 September 2022, online; ‘New report: Beijing is intensifying its global push for media influence, turning to more covert and aggressive tactics’, Freedom House, 8 September 2022, online. The National Endowment for Democracy’s work on sharp power has similarly examined how the PRC and authoritarian states engage in activities that undermine media integrity; see Christopher Walker, Jessica Ludwig, A full-spectrum response to sharp power the vulnerabilities and strengths of open societies, Sharp Power and Democratic Resilience series, National Endowment for Democracy, June 2021, online; Sharp power: rising authoritarian influence, National Endowment for Democracy, December 2017, online. ↩︎
  3. Samantha Hoffman, Engineering global consent: the Chinese Communist Party’s data-driven power expansion, ASPI, 14 October 2019, online. ↩︎
  4. ‘People’s Public Opinion Cloud’ [人民舆情云], People’s Cloud, no date, online. ↩︎
  5. ‘People’s Public Opinion Cloud’ [人民舆情云], People’s Cloud, no date, online. ↩︎
  6. Sarah Perez, ‘Temu was the most-downloaded iPhone app in the US in 2023’, TechCrunch, 13 December 2023, online. ↩︎
  7. Temu has also reportedly engaged in controversial business practices, such as forced and exploitative labour practices, and copyright infringement. See Nicholas Kaufman, Shein, Temu, and Chinese e-commerce: data risks, sourcing violations, and trade loopholes, US–China Economic and Security Review Commission, 14 April 2023, online. ↩︎
  8. Patrick Boehler, ‘Two million “internet opinion analysts” employed to monitor China’s vast online population’, South China Morning Post, 3 October 2013, online. ↩︎
  9. ‘CMP dictionary: media convergence’, China Media Project, 16 April 2021, online. ↩︎
  10. Web 2.0 refers to a shift in the way websites and web applications are designed and used, characterised by user-generated content, interactivity and collaboration, marking a departure from static web pages to dynamic platforms facilitating social interaction and user participation. See Ashraf Darwish, Kamaljit Lakhtaria, ‘The impact of the new Web 2.0 technologies in communication, development, and revolutions of societies’, Journal of Advances in Information Technology, November 2011, online. ↩︎
  11. Quad Senior Cyber Group, ‘Quad Cybersecurity Partnership: joint principles for secure software’, Department of the Prime Minister and Cabinet, Australian Government, 20 May 2023, online. ↩︎
  12. High Level Expert Group on Artificial Intelligence, ‘Ethics guidelines for trustworthy AI’, European Union, 8 April 2019, online. ↩︎
  13. ‘Pegasus spyware and its impacts on human rights’, Council of Europe, 20 June 2022, online. ↩︎
  14. National Security Division, ‘Obligation of CGTN America to register under the Foreign Agents Registration Act’, Department of Justice, US Government, 20 December 2018, online; National Security Division, ‘Obligation of Xinhua News Agency North America to register under the Foreign Agents Registration Act’, Department of Justice, US Government, 18 May 2020, online. ↩︎

The trade routes vital to Australia’s economic security

A recurrent theme in Australia’s defence strategy has been our reliance on and need to defend Australia’s trade routes in a globalised world. The vulnerability of Australia’s limited stockpiles of critical goods and its concentrated sources of supply have driven military capability and planning for decades and remain a justification for strategic investments.

The 2023 Defence Strategic Review argued that the danger of any power threatening to invade the Australian continent was remote, but that an adversary could implement military coercion at a distance with threats against our trade and supply routes. With limited resources and finite defence capability, yet vast interests at sea, it’s important that Australian security and economic planning is trained on the most critical pain points in our sea lines of communication. Strategy and planning must derive from up-to-date and accurate data about what we trade, via which routes, and to and from which specific locations.

We also need to understand the factors that contribute to our resilience. They include the depth of supply options, the availability of alternative routes and the sheer strength in numbers which our shipping enjoys when it enters the mighty flow of commerce through the waters of our Asian trading partners. This report explores our trading routes in peace-time. Any conflict would bring sharper focus on what shipping and what trade is truly necessary and on what can be done to secure it. However, the strengths and vulnerabilities of our linkages to the world are evident now and are the focus of this report.

Concerns have been sharpened by the assaults by Houthi militias on commercial shipping through the Bab al-Mandab Strait at the entrance to the Red Sea and the Suez Canal, disrupting the 12% of global trade that passes through those waters.2 In addition, drought has slashed the capacity of the Panama Canal, which in normal seasons handles a further 5% of world trade.

Surprisingly, the course and operation (who is moving what) of Australia’s trade routes has received extraordinarily little analysis. The last significant public paper on the topic was conducted by the Bureau of Transport and Regional Economics (now the Bureau of Infrastructure and Transport Research Economics, BITRE) in 2007 and was based on data from 2001 to 2004. The profile of Australia’s trade has changed radically since then. This report makes five key policy recommendations and the first of these is that the government fund BITRE to update its 2007 study of trade routes so that Defence can make assessments of how best to secure Australia’s trade routes.

A dangerous combination of complacency and tolerance could be born of a view that conflicts are in faraway locations. The reality is that few saw either of the current wars as imminent when they started, and we mustn’t make the same mistake in our region. A central finding in this report is that the greatest risk to the security of our trade routes lies relatively close to home, in the narrow channels through the Indonesian archipelago through which more than half Australia’s maritime trade must pass. Another strong conclusion is that trade has a surprising resilience in the face of conflict: it is important to understand the sources of that strength and develop plans to maximise it.

Tag Archive for: China

Sharing security interests, ASEAN’s big three step up cooperation

Southeast Asia’s three most populous countries are tightening their security relationships, evidently in response to China’s aggression in the South China Sea. This is most obvious in increased cooperation between the coast guards of the three countries – Indonesia, the Philippines and Vietnam.

But the three are moving closer together in bilateral arrangements, not as anything like a united trio. Going that far would be too damaging for their relations with China.

The obvious, though unstated, reason for collaboration is that all three have shared interests in a rules-based maritime order in the South China Sea. China’s widely disputed nine-dash line overlaps some territorial claims of Vietnam, the Philippines, Malaysia and Brunei. China also claims that areas of Indonesia’s exclusive economic zone in the North Natuna Sea slightly overlap its claims.

Principally due to Beijing’s increasingly assertive behaviour in the region, there has been an escalation of military standoffs between China and each of Indonesia, the Philippines and Vietnam.

The three are members of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations, but the grouping  has been unable to collectively act on territorial disputes in the South China Sea. Indonesia, Vietnam and the Philippines have instead found security cooperation on a bilateral level much more effective in advancing their domestic security interests. This is understandable as ASEAN is not a security alliance like NATO. Its principal focus and greatest success has been in economic development and trade.

For instance, amid the growing instability in the region, Jakarta has strengthened bilateral defence ties with both Manila and Hanoi. In 2022, Indonesia and Vietnam agreed to the boundaries of their exclusive economic zones in accordance with the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS). Before the deal, they had overlapping claims in the North Natuna Sea.

In October, the Indonesian and Vietnamese coast guards jointly exercised off Ba Ria-Vung Tau, a southern Vietnamese province. The occasion also marked the first visit by an Indonesian coast guard ship to a Vietnamese port since a 2021 memorandum of understanding on maritime security and safety cooperation.

Last  month the two countries elevated their ties to a Comprehensive Strategic Partnership and committed to strengthening defence cooperation, particularly in maritime security.

Furthermore, Indonesia and the Philippines have deepened their security ties through the 2022 Indonesia-Philippines Defence Agreement. The Philippines and Indonesia run regular maritime border patrols in their respective maritime boundaries. In 2014, the two neighbours resolved their existing overlapping maritime claims under UNCLOS.

Working with Malaysia under a trilateral cooperative arrangement, Indonesia and the Philippines have run regular joint maritime patrols since 2017. This arrangement shows both Manila and Jakarta are willing and able to conduct a trilateral maritime cooperation with a third ASEAN country.

Also last month, the Philippines and Vietnam participated in the Indonesian navy’s annual multilateral naval exercise, Komodo, in Bali. In January, coast guard personnel from the US, Vietnam, Indonesia, and the Philippines took part in a two-week maritime training course in Mindanao in the Philippines.

The Philippines and Vietnam have reinforced their maritime security awareness capabilities. Early last year, they signed a landmark maritime security deal. In it, Hanoi and Manila agreed to enhance maritime cooperation between their coastguards in the South China Sea, with a particular focus on working together to prevent and manage incidents in disputed waters.

However, the three countries may be reluctant to go as far as establishing a trilateral arrangement, because doing so could further provoke China, which now has the world’s largest navy. For instance, in 2023 China’s Nansha, the largest coast guard ship in the world, was sent to the North Natuna Sea. The incident occurred shortly after the Indonesia-Vietnam agreement on the boundaries of their exclusive economic zones. Some maritime security experts interpreted the deployment of the vessel as evidence that the new deal discomforted Beijing, which counts on intra-ASEAN divisions to prevent the emergence of a united front of claimant states against China over territorial disputes in the South China Sea.

Another major obstacle to such a trilateral arrangement could be the three countries’ significant economic relationships with China. China remains the largest trading partner for both Indonesia and Vietnam. It is also one of the Philippines top trading partners.

Nonetheless, the three strategic partners have accepted that they cannot leave it to ASEAN multilateralism to advance their shared security interests in the South China Sea. Deepening bilateral defence ties between the trio could be an incentive to build toward a united and effective trilateral maritime partnership.

It’s time to imagine how China would act as regional hegemon

Regional hegemons come in different shapes and sizes. Australia needs to think about what kind of hegemon China would be, and become, should it succeed in displacing the United States in Asia.

It’s time to think about this awful prospect because under President Donald Trump the US’s commitment to alliances is suddenly looking shaky. And there’s also the risk that even a fully committed US could try and fail to restrain China militarily—for example, in the crucial scenario of defending Taiwan.

Regardless of whether overt military force had been needed to supplant the US in Asia, leaders of a newly hegemonic China would likely initially try to portray the country as a much less aggressive and far more tolerable alternative keeper of the regional peace than the sceptics had thought.

With the region cowered and everyone else anxiously looking on, it would make great sense for a triumphant and unchallenged China to project a strong but benign image of itself to the world. Such a phase could last years and even decades, but it would not last forever.

Ideally, China’s leaders want China to be a regional hegemon that has tremendous military capabilities that it rarely, if ever, needs to use to get what it wants, principally because it is unmatched.

The prospect of the use of overwhelming military force combined with the usual economic carrots and means of political and social control across the region would, they’d hope, ensure that a hegemonic China’s interests automatically featured in the decision making of all regional countries.

That would be plan A.

China’s problem and ours is that most regional countries and the people that live in them would eventually tire of that dynamic and start pushing back.

That is problematic mainly because deference lies at the heart of Beijing’s conceptions of the virtues of a historically China-led regional order, making anything short of absolute submission difficult to tolerate.

China’s leaders are not looking to break new ground by seeking regional hegemony. Rather, they are trying to return China to a position of dominance that enables it to control what those in its orbit think, say and do.

Many of China’s coercive and technological means and methods to secure that high degree of external influence and control are new. Its desire to have them is not.

Working from the assumption that China won’t compromise on the deference front, Canberra and other regional capitals need to think about how much direction from Beijing they could stomach and how push-back might manifest itself.

This is where it starts to get messy.

The less China is challenged by a regional peer competitor, the more unacceptable even the smallest external acts of defiance will seem to a domestic Chinese audience. This means that for reasons of domestic political legitimacy alone, leaders of a hegemonic China will want to deal with any afront in a way that is seen to effectively deter others.

With internal pressure to act like a proper hegemon and no credible external checks and balances on its behaviour, it is not hard to imagine China’s leaders pursuing increasingly overt and punitive methods to compel obedience and engineer thought beyond its borders.

It is also not difficult to imagine that effort backfiring on Beijing sooner than it expected, leaving it with no apparent choice other than to use military force to achieve outcomes.

A hegemonic China would eventually overstep, eliciting a collective regional reaction that from Beijing’s perspective will need to be quashed. This would provide a pretext for China to become the expansionist and authoritarian power that it would say it never intended to become but now must to preserve regional stability.

Thinking about how far the leaders of a hegemonic China would want to go to avoid reaching that conclusion, and exactly what they would do when they reach it is anxiety inducing and unpleasant.  But it’s a task policy planners need to take on instead of wilfully avoid.

China is clearly committed to its objective of kicking the US out of Asia and assuming what it feels is China’s rightful place in the region. But it is important to remember that China’s leaders too would be unsure and anxious about how an outcome in China’s favour would play out.

For us, facing the challenges posed by the potential emergence of a hegemonic China means thinking ahead and imagining ways to move forward in different circumstances without getting stuck.

Luck will play a role.

How world order changes

After the Berlin Wall came down in 1989, and almost a year before the Soviet Union collapsed in late 1991, US President George H W Bush proclaimed a ‘new world order’. Now, just two months into Donald Trump’s second presidency, Kaja Kallas, the European Union’s top diplomat, has declared that ‘the international order is undergoing changes of a magnitude not seen since 1945.’ But what is ‘world order’, and how is it maintained or disrupted?

In everyday language, order refers to a stable arrangement of items, functions, or relations. Thus, in domestic affairs, we speak of an ‘orderly society’ and its government. But in international affairs, there is no overarching government. With arrangements among states always subject to change, the world is, in a sense, ‘anarchic’.

Anarchy is not the same as chaos, though. Order is a matter of degree: it varies over time. In domestic affairs, a stable polity can persist despite a degree of ungoverned violence. After all, organised and unorganised violent crime remain a fact of life in most countries. But when violence reaches too high a level, it is seen as an indication of a failed state. Somalia may have a common language and ethnicity, but it has long been a site of battling clans; the ‘national’ government in Mogadishu has little authority outside the capital.

The German sociologist Max Weber famously defined the modern state as a political institution with a monopoly on the legitimate use of force. But our understanding of legitimate authority rests on ideas and norms that can change. Thus, a legitimate order stems from judgments about the strength of norms, as well as simple descriptions about the amount and nature of violence within a state.

When it comes to world order, we can measure changes in the distribution of power and resources, as well as in adherence to the norms that establish legitimacy. We can also measure the frequency and intensity of violent conflict.

A stable distribution of power among states often involves wars that clarify a perceived balance of power. But views about the legitimacy of war have evolved over time. For example, in 18th-century Europe, when Prussia’s King Frederick the Great wanted to take the province of Silesia from neighboring Austria, he simply took it. But after World War II, states created the United Nations, which defined only wars of self-defense as legitimate (unless otherwise authorised by the Security Council).

To be sure, when Russian President Vladimir Putin invaded Ukraine and occupied its territory, he claimed that he was acting in self-defense against the eastward expansion of NATO. But most UN members voted to condemn his behavior, and those that did not—such as China, North Korea, and Iran—share his interest in counterbalancing American power.

While states can lodge complaints against others in international courts, these tribunals have no capacity to enforce their decisions. Similarly, while the UN Security Council can authorise states to enforce collective security, it has rarely done so. The five permanent members (Britain, China, France, Russia, and the United States) each wield a veto, and they have not wanted to risk a major war. The veto functions like a fuse or circuit-breaker in an electrical system: it is better to have the lights go out than to have the house burn down.

Moreover, a world order may become stronger or weaker because of technological changes that alter the distribution of military and economic power; domestic social and political changes that alter a major state’s foreign policy; or transnational forces like ideas or revolutionary movements, which can spread beyond governments’ control and alter public perceptions of the prevailing order’s legitimacy.

For example, after the 1648 Peace of Westphalia, which ended the European wars of religion, the principle of state sovereignty became enshrined in the normative world order. But in addition to changes in the principles of legitimacy are changes in the distribution of power resources. By the time of World War I, the US had become the world’s largest economy, allowing it to determine the outcome of the war by intervening militarily. Although US President Woodrow Wilson tried to change the normative order with his League of Nations, US domestic politics pushed the country toward isolationism, which allowed the Axis powers to attempt to impose their own order in the 1930s.

After World War II, the US accounted for half of the world economy, but its military power was balanced by the Soviet Union’s, and the UN’s normative power was weak. With the Soviet Union’s collapse in 1991, the US enjoyed a brief unipolar moment, only to overextend itself in the Middle East while permitting the financial mismanagement that culminated in the 2008 financial crisis. Believing the US was in decline, Russia and China changed their own policies. Putin ordered an invasion of neighboring Georgia, and China replaced Deng Xiaoping’s cautious foreign policy with a more assertive approach. Meanwhile, China’s robust economic growth allowed it to close the power gap with America.

Relative to China, American power did decline; but its share of the world economy has remained at around 25 percent. As long as the US maintained strong alliances with Japan and Europe, they would represent more than half the world economy, compared to a mere 20 percent for China and Russia.

Will the Trump administration maintain this unique source of America’s continued power, or is Kallas right that we are at a turning point? The years 1945, 1991, and 2008 were also turning points. If future historians add 2025 to the list, it will be a result of US policy—a self-inflicted wound—rather than any inevitable secular development.

To counter China’s coercion of Taiwan, we must track it better

The threat of a Chinese military invasion of Taiwan dominates global discussion about the Taiwan Strait. Far less attention is paid to what is already happening—Beijing is slowly squeezing Taiwan into submission without firing a shot.

Instead of launching a full-blown attack, China is ramping up a full spectrum of coercion: political meddling, economic pressure, information operations, legal manoeuvres, cyberattacks and diplomatic isolation, all conducted within the pressure cooker of constant military threats. The goal? Wear Taiwan down bit by bit until it has no choice but to give in to Beijing’s demand for unification.

ASPI has launched State of the Straita weekly Substack that keeps track of all the ways China is putting the squeeze on Taiwan. The international community can’t afford to ignore China’s evolving tactics. These coercive strategies don’t just increase tensions; they create a serious risk of miscalculation that could spiral into a larger conflict. That’s why it’s important to keep a close watch on these developments. By tracking China’s actions, policymakers can better understand where the red lines are, strengthen deterrence efforts and help Taiwan remain a resilient democracy.

Chinese President Xi Jinping’s approach is clear: he’d rather pressure Taiwan into submission over time than launch an all-out invasion. In late 2024, US intelligence reported that while Beijing is still committed to taking control of Taiwan, it’s hesitant to start a direct war. China’s coercion tactics are carefully calibrated to stay just below the threshold of outright war, creating a new normal that benefits the Chinese Communist Party while avoiding an immediate international crisis, reflecting Sun Tzu’s principle of ‘subduing the enemy without fighting’.

Taiwan’s fall would have devastating consequences. A war over Taiwan could cost the global economy up to $10 trillion—far more than the economic damage caused by the war in Ukraine or the Covid-19 pandemic. Even without an actual war, ongoing tensions could cause financial chaos, with global markets taking a hit and a potential $358 billion trade disruption if China were to block imports from G7 nations. If China manages to annex Taiwan without starting a war, this would also send a dangerous message to authoritarian regimes everywhere that democracies aren’t willing to stand up against territorial expansion.

While other think tanks and intelligence analysts do a great job covering China’s military and paramilitary moves, there’s no widely trusted platform that tracks the full range of coercion tactics in one place. That’s where State of the Strait comes in. By compiling and analysing data on all aspects of China’s coercive strategy—not just military actions—it fills a crucial gap and gives a more complete picture of what’s happening.

One example of coercion is when countries engage with Taiwan in ways deemed unacceptable, Beijing typically responds with strong rhetoric in official statements designed to deter further interaction. As the graph below shows, in 2024, Beijing’s most common grievance (representing 48 percent of observations) was foreign governments ‘violating China’s One-China principle’—a broad category that encompassed any action perceived as recognising Taiwan as distinct or autonomous, even if it fell short of full diplomatic recognition. Another 22 percent of criticisms stemmed from foreign officials meeting with Taiwanese counterparts, reflecting former president Tsai Ing-wen’s increased participation in international security forums.

What are China’s reasons for criticising countries engaging with Taiwan in 2024? (Source: ASPI’s State of the Strait Database.)

In another form of coercion, Beijing consistently and deliberately revokes the tariff-free status of Taiwanese exports as a means of leverage and punishment, as indicated in the graph below. Taiwan’s Mainland Affairs Council, which is responsible for cross-strait relations policy, has characterised this form of coercion as ‘economic oppression’. In 2024 alone, China imposed trade restrictions on 169 Taiwanese exports, primarily through the removal of tariff-free status; the only exception was polycarbonate, which faced anti-dumping tariffs. Machinery and parts constituted the largest category of Taiwanese exports, followed by plastics.

China lifted its ban on the import of wendan pomelos, a type of citrus fruit from Taiwan, in 2024. That occurred two weeks before the Mid-Autumn Festival (2 September), but the ban was reinstated a week after the holiday (25 September), along with bans on 33 other Taiwanese imports. The pomelo symbolises prosperity and good fortune in Chinese culture and is often given as a gift during festival times.

On which Taiwanese exports did China put new trade restrictions in 2024? (Source: ASPI’s State of the Strait Database)

This is only data on two coercion tactics from one year. In future, ASPI intends to expand State of the Strait by developing a searchable public database and assessment platform. That interactive tool will visualise coercion data across domains and years, distil key insights and help policymakers track long-term trends with greater clarity.

The goal is simple: to help decision-makers and the public understand how China is ramping up the pressure, how close we are to a tipping point, and how these tactics are affecting Taiwan’s government, society, and decision-making. Over time, State of the Strait will become an essential resource for tracking China’s tactics and shaping the strategies to counter them.

China’s warships reveal more than a need to strengthen the ADF

Last month’s circumnavigation by a potent Chinese naval flotilla sent a powerful signal to Canberra about Beijing’s intent. It also demonstrated China’s increasing ability to threaten Australia’s maritime communications, as well as the entirety of its eastern and southern seaboards, where the major population centres and critical infrastructure are concentrated. In a major war, our civilian infrastructure is likely to be targeted, not just military bases.

The deployment further highlighted national resilience vulnerabilities that go well beyond the need to strengthen the Australian Defence Force’s capabilities, overdue and critical though this task undoubtedly is.

While the presence of a Chinese navy task group this far south was unprecedented, and a noteworthy demonstration of China’s reach and sustainment capability, it is important to stress that peacetime signalling through military presence and wartime operations are poles apart. As we are in peacetime, China’s naval flotilla was free to manoeuvre in close formation within Australia’s exclusive economic zone (EEZ) and conduct live-fire exercises in the Tasman Sea.

In a crisis or conflict, it is highly unlikely that China’s warships would venture so close to Australia’s continental coastline. Even with Australia’s current, inadequate military capability, the ADF would be able to hold a similar Chinese flotilla at clear risk of annihilation. Surface vessels approaching Australia are easily detected long before they appear in our vicinity, by surveillance systems such as the Jindalee Operational Radar Network. If the navy had not already intercepted a hostile surface action group in Australia’s maritime approaches, the air force would be tasked with responding.

However, such an effort would absorb much of the ADF’s combat capacity. It also assumes a free hand to operate from air bases, when those same, currently unhardened bases could be subjected to preparatory missile strikes launched by China’s long-range aircraft and submarines. China’s most capable warships have stand-off and air-defence weapons of their own, and could still pose a significant threat to ships and coastal targets.

China’s growing fleet of nuclear-propelled attack submarines would be much harder to detect than surface vessels. They would likely operate independently, further stretching the ADF’s resources. Even when threats are detected, gaps will remain in the ADF’s ability to respond to intrusions in our vicinity. After all, while Australia’s extensive continental and island territories create the world’s third-largest EEZ, our navy is and will remain significantly smaller than Japan’s or South Korea’s.

Monitoring and responding to incidents within such vast tracts of sea and air space is challenging even in peacetime. But gaps in capability can be narrowed if Australia invests with greater urgency and purpose to realise the focused, integrated force outlined in the 2023 Defence Strategic Review.

To defend the Australian homeland against China’s power projection, which is only going to grow in scale and frequency, the ADF needs to grow bigger, faster and more lethal. At the same time, Australia’s political and military leaders must avoid being lured into a defensive mindset. Beijing’s ‘I can play in your backyard, if you play in mine’ message is intended to do just that.

An Australia preoccupied with localised defence, less intent on shaping its surrounding region or developing the capabilities and forward posture needed for deterrence, serves Beijing’s interests more than Canberra’s. We need military flexibility, political will and strategic vision to help secure the region and defend ourselves.  We must remember that while China’s navy was sailing around Australia, it had other ships exercising in the South China Sea and near Taiwan. These remain China’s primary areas of military focus and should therefore be an ongoing focus for Australia’s deterrence efforts.

Even as Australia grapples with this unfamiliar challenge—a potential adversary that can project power from all directions and has every motivation to tie down the ADF during a conflict in East Asia—Canberra must continue to align its military efforts with those of our key allies and partners.

Also, the nuclear submarines we’re acquiring under AUKUS are flexible platforms that can be used for sea control. But their primary purpose is not, as sometimes portrayed, to protect and defend Australia’s vital trade routes and sea lines of communication. The massive investment to acquire them will be squandered if they are tied up in the defence of homeland waters or escorting high-value assets. Fundamentally, they are for projecting denial by taking the fight as close to the adversary as physically feasible.

But within the next decade Australia will only have one SSN in service, at best, while the fate of the life extension program for our six old diesel submarines of the Collins class hangs in the balance. China’s uninvited naval presence underscores that even if Australia had an operational AUKUS submarine fleet tomorrow, there would still be a need for a concomitant uplift in the ADF’s conventional capabilities across the board.  Unfortunately, the government has not approached this uplift with the requisite urgency. The opportunity costs of prioritising defence spending increases to fulfil our AUKUS Pillar 1 commitments have come home to roost.

Granted, improvements to the Royal Australian Air Force’s maritime strike capabilities are underway, as evidenced by the recent test-firing of an LRASM anti-ship missile by an F/A-18F Super Hornet, and an associated missile order from the US. The navy is also boosting its inventory of Mark 48 heavyweight torpedos. But the dollar value of such orders tends to obscure their relatively modest scale. For example, A$200 million buys 30 torpedos of the Mark 48 latest variant, based on a unit cost of A$6.7 million.

War stocks are chronically low across the ADF, despite the need to ‘sustain protracted operations during a conflict’ being designated as one of six priority capability effects in the 2024 National Defence Strategy. In addition to boosting its combat power, the navy needs to enhance its undersea surveillance capabilities in Australia’s approaches, to aid submarine detection efforts.

Mike Pezzullo has suggested that Australia acquire B-1B bombers as they are progressively retired from the US air force, and put them into service with Australia’s air force in an anti-ship role. This is a radical idea that deserves serious consideration. While expensive, it could be done on a timeline more relevant to our deteriorating security situation than AUKUS—though AUKUS should still go ahead.

Even then, Australia’s investments in maritime strike from the air will be worth nothing in a war if missile strikes render the air force’s bases inoperable. Base hardening needs to be done in parallel, just as China is doing on a massive scale. Equally, the government’s ambitions to invest in integrated air and missile defence, highlighted as a priority in the Defence Strategic Review, remain just that: ambitions.

In this context, the Australian Army can contribute to securing our surrounding waters and approaches by fielding anti-ship missiles on mobile launchers. This will make our coastal defence thicker, less predictable to enemies and more survivable. But it remains unclear how far down the track the project to implement this, Land 8113 Phase 2, has progressed.

China’s demonstration that it can project and sustain naval power into Australia’s surrounding waters has highlighted our lack of maritime resilience. As the late James Goldrick put it, defending a fortress is pointless without attending to its water supply.

As an island nation, Australia would face profound national sustainment challenges in a wartime environment where prevailing regional trade patterns would be massively disrupted. Shipping would be a key pillar of our national economic security, if not survival. In any prolonged maritime conflict, Australia would have to requisition merchant vessels to sustain the nation’s wartime needs beyond the short term. Australia’s nationally flagged fleet, comprising around 12 vessels and not a single tanker, is risibly inadequate.

The idea that Australia could depend solely on market forces for imports needed for national survival is dangerously complacent, especially given China’s growing dominance in international shipping and port ownership. The fact that the global maritime trading system has absorbed the impact of limited conflict in the Black and Red seas without breaking down owes much to good luck and some wrenching supply-side adjustments.

This is not simply a question of ensuring that Australia maintains maritime imports of essential commodities from across the oceans. Coastal shipping, although out of sight to most of the population, is vital to Australia’s economic functioning. Road haulage is no substitute for bulk transportation by sea. Much of Australia’s critical infrastructure, including our two remaining oil refineries, is vulnerably situated near the coast. We lack the redundancy and stockpiles to absorb damage or cope with sustained supply disruptions. Australia is energy rich. We are a major exporter. But what counts more when it comes to the crunch is our continuing dependence on imported fuels, including 100 percent of our aviation fuel.

The government-commissioned report on a Maritime Strategic Fleet, submitted almost two years ago, needs to be revisited urgently. There is little evidence that its modest suite of recommendations has been adopted. The report assessed that 12 privately owned and commercially operated vessels under the Australian flag and crewed by Australians would be enough to meet emergency needs. This is highly questionable if there were a protracted maritime conflict in the Western Pacific. The strategic fleet needs to include dedicated tankers, as well as more cargo vessels capable of transporting refined fuel products (the navy has two replenishment ships of its own).

By comparison, the US has a fleet of 10 US-registered tankers in its Tanker Security Program. These vessels operate commercially in peacetime, but are essentially reserved for military use to support forward operations in wartime. They are not intended to keep the US’s lights on, or those of its allies. Australia’s need to secure oil and oil products will be far more acute, given our paltry fuel reserves and absence of domestic alternatives.  Deep pockets may not be enough to secure supplies on the spot market at the outset of a conflict, given the attendant competition and dislocation.

There is a case for Australia to consider acquiring its own cable-laying ship, to repair or replace fibre-optic seabed cables cut by an adversary at the onset of a conflict. Such ships are in short supply and their availability would be highly uncertain during wartime. An Australian-flagged specialised seabed cable support vessel would be a strategic asset that Canberra could make available to its closest allies and partners in the Pacific.

If the South China Sea and the major straits connecting it to the Indian Ocean are deemed too hazardous for international shipping, the long diversionary route around Australia will become crucial for Japan, the Philippines, South Korea, Taiwan (unless it’s blockaded) and the US from a military standpoint. From a supply and sustainment perspective, Australia should benefit from such a major realignment of shipping flows. Calling into Australian ports would no longer require a long and tell-tale diversion from major shipping lanes. And, to some extent, there is still safety in numbers, provided shipping is directly or indirectly protected.

The importance of the coastal sea lanes immediately south of Australia provides a strong case for us entering into cooperative arrangements with countries such as Japan and South Korea. India would become Australia’s most obvious substitute source for refined products, assuming that Japan, South Korea and Singapore would be unable or unwilling to meet our needs. And trans-Pacific routes would be vital to maintain communications and reinforcement from the US.

But there are downsides. China’s naval strategists and planners have likely also realised that the southern diversionary route would become a strategic artery for the US and its regional allies and partners, not simply of local importance to Australia. This paints China’s uninvited naval circumnavigation in a more strategic hue.

Australia’s southern and eastern seaboards could become a target for the interdiction of allied supplies, as they were for Germany and Japan in World War II, on and under the surface (Germany mined the Bass Strait during both world wars). Western Australia would be of heightened interest as a military target, given the likely concentration of US, British and Australian submarines at HMAS Stirling. Australia would necessarily have to assume primary responsibility for the protection of shipping passing close to its shores, partly as a quid pro quo to ensure its own supply. This would mean fewer warships and other assets would be available to perform other tasks, such as repelling an invasion of Taiwan or relieving a blockade of the island.

Fortunately, the closer the shipping lanes pass to the coast, the easier they are to defend. A layered defence incorporating assets based on land, air and sea could extend area protection in sufficient depth so that direct escort would be necessary only for the highest-value strategic cargoes or military assets. All three services would need to play an active role in defending Australian coastal waters and approaches for the duration of the conflict. The creative use of uncrewed platforms could alleviate the burden on the navy and air force.

Sustainment during wartime is a whole-of-nation endeavour. China’s recent naval visit, while in no sense a cause for panic, should sound an alarm that echoes beyond Australia’s naval community and the ADF. The defence of the nation during a major conflict will require more than just capable armed forces to succeed, while civilian infrastructure could be exposed as our Achilles’ heel. Australia’s national resilience and readiness will be the main theme of ASPI’s annual defence conference, on 4 June.

Pressure Points: The importance of Australia’s military presence in East and Southeast Asia

This week ASPI launched Pressure Points, an interactive website that analyses the Chinese military’s use of air and maritime coercion to enforce Beijing’s excessive territorial claims and advance its security interests in the Indo-Pacific.

The project highlights and analyses open-source data, military imagery, satellite footage, official government responses and other resources to provide the public with a reliable and accurate account of Chinese regional activity, from its intercept tactics to its excessive claims. It analyses China’s unsafe military interactions with a range of countries, and looks at the way countries use (or don’t use) their military forces to challenge China’s excessive claims in the South China Sea.

A powerful Chinese task group recently circumnavigated Australia, energising debate among Australian commentators and politicians. Canberra was provided a close-up view of Beijing’s rapidly expanding military capability and intent to deploy forces that could—under different circumstances—threaten our cities, population and vital supply routes.

Coupled with growing anxiety around the US alliance and the state of our own aging fleet, the circumnavigation led some to question the activities of Australia’s military, including our commitments within the Indo-Pacific region. Why is Australia deploying military forces to China’s backyard? Aren’t our forces better used closer to home? Why are we provoking our largest trading partner?

These anxieties discount three important facts:

First, Australia’s economic and security interests are intertwined with the Indo-Pacific region. The Indo-Pacific has prospered for decades on the back of international law and rules and norms that have helped to shape the behaviour of states, both large and small. As outlined on Pressure Points, China is increasingly using its military and tactics below the threshold of war to challenge these rules and norms, coerce and deter other countries, and advance its strategic interests.

Regional deployment of Australia’s military helps push back on China’s unwanted advances and protect existing rules and norms, especially when our military conducts activities that challenge China’s excessive territorial claims (such as transits through the Spratly or Paracel Islands). International law is only likely to hold if countries such as Australia are willing to physically enforce it. But, as we have seen on five separate occasions since early 2022, these activities are not without risk. We should expect China to continue to use aggressive and unsafe behaviour to deter our military presence.

But the risk is worth it. Australia cannot afford the continued expansion of China’s excessive claims and the development of a Sinocentric order, which prioritises laws that favour Beijing’s interests, rather than an agreed set of international rules and norms. A continued military presence that supports international law and Australia’s partnerships is firmly in our interest.

Second, we should take stock that it is Beijing’s behaviour that is changing, not our own. Australia’s military has a long history in the Indo-Pacific region. Our warships have been sailing through the South China Sea since World War II. Our defence force has worked with partners across East and Southeast Asia (including China) for decades to increase common understanding and build military interoperability. Our military presence has been longstanding and consistent, and it is founded on longstanding regional partnerships with countries that want Australia to remain militarily engaged in the region.

In comparison, since late 2021 China has used unsafe military manoeuvres to coerce and deter the armed forces of the United States, Australia, Canada, the Philippines and the Netherlands. The actions of China’s Coast Guard and maritime militia have mirrored this increase in aggressive military behaviour, but they rarely project beyond the first island chain.

We are not provoking China—China is provoking us. Beijing seeks to disrupt and deter our longstanding military presence, as well as the presence of other militaries. Thankfully, the tide isn’t necessarily flowing in China’s favour. We have seen more countries deploy military forces to East and Southeast Asia in 2024 than in the previous decade. This presence acts as a bulwark against China’s aggressive behaviour.

Third, China has shown its ability to project military force into our region. We can expect this to continue. The circumnavigation was not a quid pro quo—Beijing was not trying to say ‘if you stay out of our backyard, we’ll stay out of yours’. China’s development of a blue-water navy capable of undertaking extended deployments in our region is part of a broader strategy of national rejuvenation, in which China becomes the pre-eminent global military and economic power.

The pursuit of this strategy will increasingly challenge Australia’s interests. But if we are going to challenge military actions from China, this is best done transparently with partners in the South China Sea, rather than on our own doorstep. China has demonstrated its ability to employ multifaced and flexible tactics to achieve incremental advances over time.

It is necessary to challenge China’s excessive claims in the region, while also responding to its increased military presence in our immediate vicinity. But to do both, Australia must dramatically boost the currently depleted capacity of the Australian Defence Force.

China’s shadow fleet threatens Indo-Pacific communications

China is using increasingly sophisticated grey-zone tactics against subsea cables in the waters around Taiwan, using a shadow-fleet playbook that could be expanded across the Indo-Pacific.

On 25 February, Taiwan’s coast guard detained the Hong Tai 58 after a subsea cable was cut in the Taiwan Strait. The vessel was registered to Togo but crewed entirely by Chinese nationals. It had Chinese characters on its hull and operated under multiple identities with conflicting markings, documentation and tracking data. In another incident in early January, the Shunxing 39—a Chinese-owned vessel flagged under both Cameroon and Tanzania—was implicated in damaging a section of the Trans-Pacific Express subsea cable, an important telecommunications link between Taiwan and the United States.

While China has targeted Taiwan’s undersea cables for years as part of its grey-zone operations, it has subtly shifted tactics. Previously, vessels involved in suspected acts of sabotage were registered to China. Now, they are increasingly operating under foreign flags, forming a shadow fleet. This strategy resembles Russia’s subsea cable tactics in the Baltic Sea.

States such as North Korea and Iran often use shadow fleets—ageing vessels registered under flags of convenience—to get around sanctions, to trade or transport illegal or prohibited goods, or to undertake illegal fishing. The vessels are operated through intricate corporate structures, with shell companies established in one country, management based in another and vessels registered elsewhere again, providing states with deniability. They use deceptive tactics including manipulating identification systems, turning off tracking systems and changing names and flags. If caught, vessels can be easily abandoned and their legal entities dissolved, rendering traditional countermeasures such as sanctions largely ineffective.

Since its invasion of Ukraine, Russia has relied on a large shadow fleet, not only to evade oil sanctions but also to conduct a campaign of hybrid warfare against NATO—including allegedly damaging European subsea cables and critical infrastructure. For example, in December, Finnish authorities seized the Eagle S after it allegedly damaged five subsea cables. The tanker was flagged under the Cook Islands but operated by a Dubai-based company with Indian management. Moscow denied any involvement, pointing to the vessel’s non-Russian links.

China has also surfaced in Russia’s operations. In November, the Chinese-flagged Yi Peng 3—which had departed from a Russian port—was suspected of severing two undersea cables, one linking Lithuania to Sweden and another connecting Germany to Finland. In 2023, the NewNew Polar Bear, a Chinese-flagged but Russian-crewed vessel, was responsible for damaging Baltic subsea cables and a gas pipeline. China admitted the vessel was responsible for the damage, but claimed it was accidental.

These cases highlight the value of shadow fleets as tools of hybrid warfare. Subsea cables are notoriously susceptible to accidental and environmental damage. Proving intent to sabotage and holding parties accountable is very difficult.

Despite this, NATO has been working to expose and deter Russia’s hybrid warfare tactics.

Taiwan has taken note. In January, it blacklisted 52 Chinese-owned vessels suspected of operating as its shadow fleet registered in countries such as Cameroon, Tanzania, Mongolia, Togo and Sierra Leone. Following the recent cable-cutting incidents, Taiwanese authorities publicised detailed evidence—including vessel ownership, flag state and tracking system manipulation details—to pre-empt China’s denial. They have also been tracking and boarding suspicious vessels. Taiwan recently raised the alarm about a Russian-flagged vessel lurking for weeks over a subsea cable, recognising the growing coordination between China and Russia in hybrid warfare operations.

While Taiwan has borne the brunt of these efforts so far, China is unlikely to be overly concerned about deniability over future subsea cable sabotage affecting Taiwan. After all, Beijing’s primary goal is to exert pressure on the island, not conceal its intentions.

However, what happens in the Taiwan Strait will not stay in the Taiwan Strait. China’s shadow-fleet tactics are likely to expand across the Indo-Pacific, where maintaining a level of deniability would be beneficial. China already deploys grey-zone tactics in the region, from intimidation of vessels in the South China Sea and targeted incursions in disputed territorial waters, to strategic infrastructure investments that create leverage over its neighbours. Targeting subsea cable infrastructure is another tactic in Beijing’s coercion toolkit—one that targets connectivity while maintaining plausible deniability and operating in the grey-zones of international law and accountability.

The Indo-Pacific—with its vast maritime distances, congested shipping lanes and uneven surveillance capabilities—is fertile ground for such operations. Frequent accidental cable damage and existing territorial disputes may further complicate attribution and response. The region’s economic ties with China would make coordinating any responses even harder.

From filing patents on subsea cutting technology to unveiling a powerful new deep-sea cable cutting device, China’s clearly gearing up to expand its subsea cable operations. As Taiwan works to protect its critical infrastructure, the rest of the Indo-Pacific should enhance regional cooperation and reassess existing deterrence strategies.

If recent incidents in the Baltic Sea and around Taiwan are any indication, disruptions in the Indo-Pacific are not a question of if, but when. The most effective counter to Beijing’s shadow-fleet operations is exposure through public attribution and communication. After all, a vessel cutting cables near a state’s shores may well be flying a neighbour’s flag but taking its orders from Beijing.

The permanent Australia-China contest in the South Pacific

Foreign Minister Penny Wong in 2024 said that ‘we’re in a state of permanent contest in the Pacific—that’s the reality.’

China’s arrogance hurts it in the South Pacific. Mark that as a strong Australian card in this permanent contest.

The Chinese navy’s no-notice live-fire exercises in the Tasman Sea have become another talking point in Australia’s effort to deny Beijing a Pacific island naval base.

Canberra can offer the South Pacific this argument: ‘Do you want to host Chinese warships so they can play deadly cowboy games in your waters?’

As Australia prepares for a national election in May, China’s Pacific ambitions are again making headlines. During the 2022 election campaign, Wong lashed the Coalition government after Solomon Islands signed a security agreement with China, calling it ‘the worst Australian foreign policy blunder in the Pacific since the end of World War II’. Around that time, China sent a surveillance ship down Australia’s west coast.

Australia must become used to China’s blue water navy noodling around our shores, and not just during elections.

As with its navy, China’s Pacific ambitions have expanded. In the past 10 to 15 years, Beijing has shifted from pursuing one core aim in the islands—the diplomatic contest with Taiwan. Now it seeks, even demands, great power entitlements. My rough timeline for the shift says the great power assertiveness has been to the fore for the past 10 to 15 years.

In 1975, Fiji became the first Pacific islands state to give diplomatic recognition to the People’s Republic of China. For the next 40 years, China’s overriding purpose was to beat Taiwan in the cheque-book battle for diplomatic recognition. By 2005, China was ahead: seven island states recognised the PRC while six recognised Taiwan. Today, only three island states have diplomatic ties with Taiwan.

With the flag battle mostly won, China has settled into the permanent contest. That’s why Wong has made more visits to the islands than any previous Australian foreign minister. Taking up the diplomatic duel, Wong headed to Fiji in her first week as minister, saying:  ‘Strategic contest will challenge us in new ways. We understand that the security of any one Pacific family member rests on security for all.’

As China probes, Australia steadily responds, building on what we already have.  As Sean Dorney, one of Australia’s great Pacific correspondents, said: ‘Thank God for China! Now Australia has to pay attention.’

Dorney’s point is simply that China reminds Australia of what we should be doing anyway. When Australia speaks of being the region’s partner of choice–economically, politically and strategically—it defines a lesser role for China.

Australia’s response draws on the calm approach used to stare down coercion and sanctions during the five-year icy age from 2017 to 2022, and three years of slow rebalance.

In this grand competition, Australia has the huge multilateral advantage of being in the region. Canberra strives to win the bilateral contests. More than Beijing, Canberra is explicit in stating its defence aims, signing agreements with Nauru and Tuvalu giving Australia veto rights over security partnerships with other countries. The response to claims of paternalism or colonialism is that Australia holds up island states by holding them close.

The next step is negotiation of a defence treaty with Papua New Guinea, building on the 2023 Australia-PNG security agreement.  China has changed the level of the security pledge Australia offers PNG.

Because of PNG’s shared border with Indonesia, Canberra had always been cautious about a full defence treaty with Port Moresby. The moral hazard fear was that PNG might take risks Australia would have to cover, and Australia was wary of going to war with Indonesia because of PNG’s actions.

Paul Dibb tells the story of accompanying Australia’s then defence minister, Kim Beazley, to a Jakarta meeting with Benny Moerdani in the 1980s. Indonesia’s defence chief asked if Australia would fight for PNG, to which Beazley replied: ‘We’d fight to the last man, but we wouldn’t tell them that.’ Such are the contortions when moral hazard meets strategic imperative. China has wiped away that old caution.

When PNG Prime Minister James Marape addressed the Australian parliament last year, he spoke of Australia’s history as a ‘big brother’. This year marks the 50th anniversary of PNG’s independence from Australia, and Marape joined Wong in Canberra on 24 February to welcome Somare-Whitlam scholars, named after the prime ministers of Australia and PNG in 1975.

In her speech, Wong went first to the people dimension: ‘Neighbours, friends, equal partners. One of the nicest things in my job is that the prime minister of Papua New Guinea calls me “sister”.’

In this permanent contest, Australia has unique assets. China makes ambitious offers to South Pacific states. Australia’s great counter-offer is to South Pacific people, as Labor and Coalition governments embrace Australia’s role in the Pacific family.

China’s military spending rises should prompt regional budget responses

China’s defence budget is rising heftily yet again. The 2025 rise will be 7.2 percent, the same as in 2024, the government said on 5 March. But the allocation, officially US$245 billion, is just the public disclosure of what is likely far greater spending within China’s opaque system.

What we do know is that China has the second-biggest military expenditure in the world, behind the United States’. This year’s budget is another demonstration of the high goals that Beijing has set out for itself in military and geopolitical terms.

This should push others in the region to spend more on their militaries. Too many nations fear an arms race in the Indo-Pacific and beyond, whereas in fact it is just what’s needed. Beijing will keep building up its offensive power regardless of what the rest of us do. By holding down defence spending, we only put ourselves at risk.

The 7.2 percent rises in China’s defence budget for 2024 and 2025 imply a rising share of the economy going to the military. In 2024 GDP officially grew 5.0 percent (after adjustment for inflation) and is supposed to do so again this year.  Since China’s inflation rate was just 0.2 percent last year and is forecast by the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development at 0.6 percent this year, the real rises in Beijing’s defence spending are not much below the nominal (unadjusted) budget increases. And they’re faster than GDP growth.

With conflict and tension across Europe, Middle East and the Indo-Pacific, the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI) estimates global military spending rose a spectacular 6.8 percent in real (inflation-adjusted) terms from 2022 to 2023, reaching US$2.44 trillion in 2023. It was the largest annual rise since 2009—though measuring defence spending is notoriously difficult, partly because the budgets of some countries, particularly China, are opaque.

In its latest China Military Power report, the US Department of Defense said China was spending somewhere between 40 and 90 percent more on defence than the public budget figure. That implies 2024 spending of US$330 billion to US$450 billion. According to the International Institute for Strategic Studies, China’s 2024 defence budget rose 7.4 percent, far outstripping the regional average of 3.9 percent.

Despite Asia’s relatively strong economic growth, the region’s share of global military spending fell from 25.9 percent in 2021 to 21.7 percent in 2024, because of wars and associated spending increases in Europe and Middle East. Additions to China’s spending as well as North Korean developments will likely drive up Asia’s share of defence spending, however. According to SIPRI, China in 2023 allocated US$296 billion to defence, 6.0 percent more than in 2022.

China’s relentless build-up has prompted its neighbours to increase their own military spending. An assessment by a few well-known China specialists last year suggested that China’s 2024 was actually US$471 billion (though their accounting methods also assessed US 2024 defence spending at US$1.3 trillion instead of the official US$825 billion).

Even if China’s neighbours accept its implausible claim to be spending less than 1.5 percent of GDP on defence, they can hardly be reassured as the capability of the Chinese armed forces grows and as that military and supposedly civilian agencies act with aggression in the region. Anyway, 1.5 percent of so large an economy would still be alarming.

As China’s economic growth slows, we should expect the defence share of GDP to continue to rise.

China likes to mention that the 2025 defence budget is the 10th in a row to show single-digit percentage growth. Yet these growth rates are still large by international standards and build on the much larger expansions of earlier years. In 2014, China had a 12.2 percent increase in defence spending, declining to 10.1 percent in 2015 and to 7.6 percent in 2016.

The opaqueness of China’s military spending is a particular cause for concern.

China usually attributes the increase in spending to the various military exercises it is engaged in as well as maintenance and upkeep of its military forces. The implication is that the increments are mostly going to salaries and pensions. It is true Chinese military personnel numbers are very large, but its equipment is improving dramatically. Just this last year, China demonstrated two new stealth fighters; a stealth bomber is in the works. And China is building a nuclear-powered aircraft carrier that will rival the latest US carriers in size.

The government’s Xinhua News Agency justifies China’s defence budget as paying for a ‘national defense policy that is defensive in nature, with its military spending mainly focusing on protecting its sovereignty, security and development interests … and the country will never seek hegemony or engage in expansionism no matter what stage of development it reaches.’

But China’s actions do not suggest a purely defensive motivation. Such claims should be no more truthful than Vladimir Putin’s claims that Russia’s military build-ups on the Russian border with Ukraine in 2021 and 2022 were only exercises.

When China sends its naval forces to intimidate neighbours and engages in military exercises that suddenly force rerouting of commercial flights, more regional countries should speak up. And the type of language that Beijing understands is an increase in our own defence spending.

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.