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Foreign policy white paper 2017: of speaking softly and carrying a big stick

The cover of the Turnbull government’s 2017 foreign policy white paper shows Australia large and at the centre of our universe—but still dwarfed by the imposing vastness of Asia stretching right over it. Europe, at the top, looks a very long way away.

And the subtitle—‘Opportunity, security, strength’—sums up succinctly the document’s key message that being poised on the edge of such a dynamic region brings economic opportunities, but also a sense of future uncertainty that the nation needs to prepare for. The ‘security’ and ‘strength’ parts of the equation could easily be replaced with the unspoken ‘threat’ and ‘need to be stronger’.

The paper acknowledges that the decade to come will bring unprecedented change, and it notes that while the United States has been the dominant power in the region through Australia’s post–World War II history, ‘today China is challenging America’s position’.

It says that navigating the decade ahead will be hard because, as China’s power grows, the region is changing in ways without precedent in Australia’s modern history.

‘Our alliance with the US is central to Australia’s approach to the Indo-Pacific’, the paper says. It warns that ‘without strong US political, economic and security engagement, power is likely to shift more quickly in the region and it will be more difficult for Australia to achieve the levels of security and stability we seek. The government will broaden and deepen our alliance cooperation, including through the US force posture initiatives.’ The paper doesn’t go into detail but it is those US force posture initiatives that are bringing up to 2,500 US marines to northern Australia for several months of training each year, as well as increased visits by long-range US bombers.

Australia and its regional and global ‘partners’ face diverse threats, ranging from North Korea’s long-range missile and nuclear programs to Islamist terrorism, the paper says.

The fragility of states, demographic shifts and environmental challenges like climate change will continue to shape our world and demand policy responses. ‘Powerful drivers of change are converging in a way that is reshaping the international order and Australia’s interests.’

While acknowledging the economic and other benefits a stronger Asia could bring to Australia, Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull noted the presence of the head of the ADF, Air Chief Marshal Mark Binskin, at the paper’s launch:

He understands, as does the Defence Minister, Marise Payne, and the Defence Industry Minister, Christopher Pyne, as do all our defence leaders; they all understand that we live in times, yes, of uncertainty and indeed times that are more dangerous than we’ve seen for a very long time. That is why we are investing in the largest revitalisation of our armed forces, in the air, on the land and on the sea, in peacetime history. Security and prosperity, they go hand in hand.

The prime minister continued, ‘Uncertainty is a fact. Rapid change is a fact. They’re realities. The challenge for us is not how to resist them, let alone deny them, but how to prosper with them, how to hedge against the risks and seize the opportunities the times offer us.’

Turnbull said the white paper was clear-eyed and hard-headed. ‘It sees our world, and our region, as it is, not how we wish they could be, or fondly imagine they once were. Prosperity and security, I repeat, go hand in hand and you can’t have the former without the latter. If the Minister for Finance were here, he would remind us you can’t afford the latter without the former.’

The simplicity of the Cold War was long gone, Turnbull said. ‘The world is a much more complex environment. It’s a world in which over the last 30 years we have seen the greatest rise out of poverty in all of human history, but in which the number of civil wars tripled between 2007 and ’14. Conflicts and lawless spaces have generated 65 million displaced people, more than at any time since the Second World War.’

The prime minister said there was no more important bilateral relationship in the world than that of China and the US. ‘I have seen firsthand that Presidents Trump and Xi respect and understand each other, both on the issues on which they agree and those on which they differ.’

The white paper says Australia will have to be agile to catch the benefits flowing from dynamic Asian economies, but that along with those benefits, the risks are building too, and the stability of the Indo-Pacific region can’t be assumed. Any significant rise in protectionism globally could create strategic friction, damage economic growth and undermine the rules that support flows of trade and investment.

The rules and institutions that have helped maintain peace and security and guide global cooperation are under strain, the document says. It notes that in some cases major powers are ignoring or undermining international law. It doesn’t mention China in that context, but it appears to be a clear reference to Beijing’s building and fortifying of islands in the South China Sea and its rejection of an international arbitration court’s ruling that such activity was illegal. Deep inside the report, it observes that the South China Sea is a major fault line in the regional order and says Australia is particularly concerned about the unprecedented pace and scale of its island-building activities.

‘In this dynamic environment, Australia must seek opportunity while protecting our interests in the face of complexity and uncertainty’, the white paper says.

‘We will require active, determined and innovative foreign policy built on strong domestic foundations—a flexible economy, strong defence and national security capabilities and resilient democratic institutions within a cohesive society.’ An outward-looking Australia fully engaged with the world is essential to our future security and prosperity, the paper says.

‘For Australia, the stakes could not be higher.’

Foreign policy white paper 2017: bright hopes, dark visions

Australia’s foreign policy white paper is a contrast study, both dark and light. Bright vistas of international opportunity are described beneath storm clouds of ‘political alienation and economic nationalism’.

Here are both dreams and nightmares: a report card on the world—subtitled ‘Opportunity, security, strength’—that’s also a crystal ball exercise, weaving prediction and prognosis through the policy prescriptions.

Standing in the central atrium of Canberra’s foreign affairs building, Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull launched the white paper as the government’s vision of the next decade of ‘uncertain and dangerous times’.

A leader who projects beaming optimism as his personal motif spent a lot of time discussing the paper’s ‘clear-eyed and hard-headed’ approach to an era of rapid change, political uncertainty, strategic ambition and foreign interference.

The United States and China stand at the centre of the paper as the key bilateral relationship which will decide much of the next decade. The third paragraph puts it simply: ‘Today, China is challenging America’s position.’

Shared economic interests may not be enough to produce a sharing of power that suits Beijing or that Washington can accept:

They have a mutual interest in managing strategic tensions but this by itself is not a guarantee of stability. Compounding divergent strategic interests as China’s power grows, tensions could also flare between them over trade and other economic issues.

Last year’s defence white paper was loud and staunch in its confidence in the US alliance and that America is in Asia to stay. Coming to the end of the first year of the Trump presidency, the foreign policy white paper is needier and fretful. The subtext of the declarations of deep Oz affection for the US is the stark question Canberra now faces: What happens if America goes AWOL, heading east of Guam (or even Hawaii) just as Britain once departed east of Suez?

The white paper’s answer to that question is a pledge to do everything possible to see that the nightmare never happens, with repeated affirmations that the US alliance is good for Australia and good for the region:

The alliance is a choice we make about how best to pursue our security interests. It is central to our shared objective of shaping the regional order. It delivers a capability edge to our armed forces and intelligence agencies, giving Australia added weight and regional influence.

The chapter discussing stability in the Indo-Pacific treats the US and China as a linked topic. This is striking. The US no longer stands alone in the Oz pantheon, but now shares the central pillar with another.

Throughout the paper, the love for the US is invariably followed by a paragraph on the deep friendship with China. Malcolm Turnbull might worry, in private, about China as a ‘frenemy’, but this official statement of the Oz world view is notable for being most China-friendly.

As policy documents, white papers are always significant for their hierarchies and lists. The country hierarchy is, as you’d expect, the US, China, Japan, Indonesia and India. Canberra’s embrace of the Indo-Pacific concept gets another big run.

As promised, the Pacific islands and Timor-Leste get particular attention, with one of the eight chapters devoted to our enduring partnership with Papua New Guinea, stepping up engagement with the islands and supporting Timor. The remember-the-Pacific emphasis means the region gets a place in the five objectives of fundamental importance to Australia’s security and prosperity:

  • promote an open, inclusive and prosperous Indo–Pacific region in which the rights of all states are respected
  • deliver more opportunities for our businesses globally and stand against protectionism
  • ensure Australians remain safe, secure and free in the face of threats such as terrorism
  • promote and protect the international rules that support stability and prosperity and enable cooperation to tackle global challenges
  • step up support for a more resilient Pacific and Timor–Leste.

On the light and optimistic side of the ledger, the paper devotes a page to ‘dynamic Asia’ and the prediction that Asia’s miracle still has much more to give:

The scale of Asia’s transformation is unprecedented. In a little over three decades the region went from one in which more than a billion people lived in extreme poverty to one with more than a billion in the middle class …. Over the next 10 years, a billion more Asians will join the middle class creating a consumer market larger in number and spending power than the rest of the world combined. Their choices will reshape global markets. By 2030, the region will produce more than half of the world’s economic output and consume more than half of the world’s food and 40 per cent of its energy. By then, more than 600 million additional people will live in the region’s cities.

Power shifts don’t get any bigger than that. As the white paper comments: ‘For Australia, the stakes could not be higher.’

Strategic risk in the new era: a response to Paul Dibb and Richard Brabin-Smith

Paul Dibb and Richard Brabin-Smith have written a significant ASPI paper that may well mark a turning point in Australia’s efforts to adapt to the new strategic circumstances we confront in Asia. That policymakers of their status and experience now acknowledge that China’s rise requires big changes in Australia’s defence policy suggests that we are indeed, and at last, making progress towards a serious debate about our strategic future.

Dibb and Brabin-Smith analyse our situation using the concepts of ‘warning time’ and ‘expansion base’ which were most fully elaborated in the 1987 Defence White Paper. They argue that only recent events—even since the 2016 White Paper—have given grounds for deciding that we’re now in warning time as it was then conceived. But in fact the indicators and warnings go back much further than that. They were clear at the time of the 2009 White Paper, as that deeply flawed but perceptive document half-acknowledged, and plain enough even a decade before that.

But more importantly, I’m not sure that the 1987 conceptual framework is very relevant today. Warning time ceased to play a major role in defence policy in the 1990s, and was explicitly repudiated in the 2000 White Paper (paragraphs 6.36–6.38). We would have to venture deep into the airless crypts of defence-planning theology to explain in full detail why that happened, but the key reason was that by 2000 we had stepped quietly away from the ‘defence of Australia’ focus within which the warning time/expansion base had evolved.

As we have given higher priority to operations beyond the defence of Australia, we have slid back to depending on America for the defence of Australia itself, especially as it became less unthinkable that we might face a threat from a major Asian power more formidable than Indonesia. The concept of self-reliance faded away, until it almost disappeared completely from the 2016 White Paper. The more our defence policy has focused on China, the further we have stepped away from self-reliance.

So the defence policy we have today is much further from the policy of 1987 than Dibb and Brabin-Smith suggest. It is indeed much closer to the ‘forward defence’ policy of the pre-Vietnam era.

Plainly the credibility of this policy depends on our confidence that America will always be there for us. Dibb and Brabin-Smith barely touch on that question, but it is absolutely central to our current defence-policy predicament.

Despite China’s increasing power and ambition, our current policy would be quite workable if we could be sure that America was going to remain in Asia as the region’s leading strategic power and Australia’s protector. That’s because it would both reduce the chances of a Chinese attack on Australia and reduce the demands on the ADF in dealing with such an attack if it nonetheless occurred.

That’s why our political leaders are so eager to assure us that this is the case. But the evidence is now inescapably clear that they’re wrong. America’s position in Asia is collapsing fast, and not just because of Donald Trump.

The big question is therefore whether, and if so how, Australia can prepare to defend itself and its vital strategic interests from China without America’s support. Our problem isn’t just that we have run into warning time, but that we have run out of allies.

So what should we do? If, as Dibb and Brabin-Smith imply, we should reinstate self-reliance and aim to build forces that can defend us against China independently, just as we aimed to do against Indonesia in the old days, then we have a very big task ahead. They acknowledge that much needs to be done, but they make the task look less intimidating by suggesting that we can still rely on the concept of warning time to defer major investments.

I’m not sure that’s true. Warning time made perfect sense in relation to Indonesia in the strategic circumstances of the 1980s, but in relation to China today that is less clear. There’s no reason to assume that we would get anything like the warning they assume of an emerging threat.

If we decide that Australia should be able independently to resist a direct attack from a major Asian power like China, then we need to start building the forces to do that right now, not wait for some further warning sign. That’s especially true because it’s now abundantly clear that China’s capability development cycle is a lot shorter than ours.

But before we can do that we need a much clearer idea of what forces we need for this very demanding task. We must think much more seriously about the operations that could most cost-effectively achieve this strategic objective, and about the capabilities that could most cost-effectively undertake them.

Dibb and Brabin-Smith nod in that direction when they talk of developing an anti-access and area denial posture, but that’s where a lot more real work is needed, especially because so much of the investments we’re now committing to—for example, in massive warship programs—make no sense in that kind of posture. The ADF that could defend Australia independently from China would be very different from the ADF today, and the country and economy that could sustain such a force on protracted operations would be very different too —as Dibb and Brabin-Smith acknowledge in relation to things like fuel supplies.

So we still have a long way to go to understand what’s happening to us and what we can do about it. But it makes a big difference that Dibb and Brabin-Smith have now joined the discussion in such a forthright way.

Striving for power: Chinese foreign policy in Xi Jinping’s ‘new era’

President Xi Jinping has emerged out of last month’s 19th Congress of the Chinese Communist Party as a new paramount leader of China on a par with Mao Zedong, founder of the People’s Republic of China (PRC), and Deng Xiaoping, engineer of the reform policy that has delivered China’s economic rise. It is an extraordinary measure of his dominance in Chinese politics that he is the first living leader to be named as a guide for the party since Mao died in 1976. With ‘Xi Jinping Thought on Socialism with Chinese Characteristics for a New Era’ written into the party constitution, he now—along with Marx, Lenin, Mao and Deng—defines the meaning of Chinese Communism. As The Economist puts it, ‘The congress has consolidated his authority not just for five years but, in effect, for life.’

What does Xi’s new authority mean for Chinese foreign policy during his second term and beyond? Although China doesn’t publish ‘grand strategy’ documents as such, the general secretary’s report to the party congress, especially its foreign policy section, comes closest to offering a blueprint for future policy. This year’s report is particularly significant because Xi has a once-in-a-generation message to deliver: his judgement that Chinese socialism ‘has crossed the threshold into a new era’. Declaring that ‘the Chinese nation now stands tall and firm in the East’ and alluding to the three eras the PRC has gone through, Xi announced that China ‘has stood up, grown rich, and is becoming strong’, with ‘brilliant prospects of national rejuvenation’.

In this florid statement is the essence of China’s national policy. Its goal is to achieve the ‘great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation’ from the slough of weakness and humiliation over the past two centuries. The process is spread over three stages—the standing-up stage accomplished by Mao, the growing-rich stage achieved by Deng, and the becoming-strong stage that Xi has now promised to deliver. Offering more specificity in this promise, he proposes two cumulative goals in the becoming-strong stage: realising socialist modernisation in 2020–2035 and developing China into ‘a great modern socialist country’ and ‘a global leader in terms of composite national strength and international influence’ in 2035–2050.

Make no mistake: Xi is trying to at once write and make modern Chinese history by appealing to several dominant themes of that history. Ever since the mid-19th century when China’s last imperial dynasty suffered from terminal decline, the search for wealth and power has been a fundamental national mission for Chinese elites, and national independence and sovereignty an overriding goal. For Xi, Mao achieved the goal of independence, Deng that of wealth, and now it’s his task to deliver the goal of power—or ‘composite national strength’ across the political, cultural, diplomatic, economic and military domains. Agreeing with Xi that the mission of power is as historic as those of independence and wealth, the party has no difficulty lining up ‘Xi Jinping Thought’ with ‘Mao Zedong Thought’ and ‘Deng Xiaoping Theory’ in its constitution.

Chinese foreign policy from Xi’s second term on will therefore become a policy of striving for ‘strong’ or ‘great’ power, as opposed to Mao’s independence-based or Deng’s wealth-based policy. Notice the significance: Xi is declaring a sharp break with past traditions and proposing a new era for Chinese foreign policy under his command. Ever since the 2000s, analysts have been debating whether Chinese foreign policy has moved beyond Deng’s dictum of ‘keeping a low profile’—a debate taking on new significance as a result of a more confident or assertive policy during Xi’s first term. Now Xi has resolved this debate by definitively proclaiming the arrival of a new era of foreign policy under the assumption of Chinese power. Although the goal of consummate power is set to be achieved by 2050, Xi has already sentimentally announced the arrival of China as a world power.

Euphoria and triumphalism are a notable feature of Xi’s report to the 19th Party Congress, perhaps unsurprising for a confident leader consolidating unprecedented power and feeling China ‘moving ever closer to the world’s center stage’. The reality of Chinese foreign policy, especially in the immediate Asian region, however, is more challenging than acknowledged. Xi has laid out a mesmerising vision—even a grand strategy—for China’s rise to power in this century, but numerous challenges remain. Despite his claim to diplomatic progress on all fronts, China’s position in Asia—a key measure of success—is in fact less than fully secure. Notably, relationships with leading regional powers including Japan and India, and important middle powers including South Korea and Australia, have suffered setbacks or volatility in recent years. And North Korea, a festering problem of the first order, has been costing China a terrible strategic price since the 1990s.

Chinese foreign policy has entered Xi Jinping’s ‘new era’ of striving for power. Its success will depend on Beijing’s ability to meet various challenges ahead. The first task is to identify the principal contradiction of such a policy and develop appropriate remedies. Will China’s aspiration for greater power come into clash with other countries’ need for their own security and power? In the area of domestic policy, Xi’s report sensibly notes that the new contradiction facing Chinese society has evolved into one ‘between unbalanced and inadequate development and the people’s ever-growing needs for a better life’. What is the new contradiction of Chinese foreign policy in Xi’s ‘new era’?

APEC, Trump and contested Asia

In the first week of his marathon Asia tour, Donald Trump has made state visits to Japan, South Korea and China. Knowing that he can be easily swayed by over-the-top hospitality, China has even billed it as a ‘state visit-plus’. Given the importance of these bilaterals, the white-hot tensions on the Korean peninsula and the crucial question of the tone and tenor of US–China relations, it can be easily overlooked that the initial reason for the president’s Asia trip was to take part in the regional summit season and, in particular, to attend the annual APEC leaders’ meeting.

Formally referred to as the Economic Leaders’ Summit (APEC has member economies not states to overcome the difficulties of Taipei and Hong Kong joining as separate entities in the early 1990s), the annual gathering has become a fixture of the diplomatic calendar. Indeed, even though it hasn’t really delivered much in the way of economic collaboration, its members still see attending an APEC summit as a useful expenditure of political leaders’ time. It regularly attracts a high level of participation that the other regional bodies can’t match. Crucially, it’s the only multilateral mechanism which the Chinese president attends.

What can we expect from the jamboree that was able to lure The Donald across the Pacific to the attractive coastal city of Da Nang?

For nine months or so, US policy on Asia seemed to be at best on autopilot and at worst suffering from neglect. Prior to the tour, the White House finally set out a vision for the region in which the US seeks to protect and promote a ‘free and open Indo-Pacific’. While not officially a continuation of Obama’s ‘pivot to Asia’, maintaining the prevailing regional strategic and economic order in the face of China’s rise is plainly Washington’s goal. The challenge at APEC is how to square the lofty rhetoric of an economically open region with Trump’s mercantilism.

Don’t expect any meaningful policy movement on that at APEC. Signalling is all that’s likely to be achieved. But even there, Trump’s limited understanding of the economics of international trade means that, despite Washington’s intent to use APEC to signal the constancy of its regional commitment, there are good prospects that the opposite will occur.

At the only other large diplomatic gathering, the G20 in Hamburg, Trump showed his inexperience and poor feel for multilateral meetings. The US appeared both literally and metaphorically isolated from the rest of the group, leading some to describe it as G19 + 1. APEC supporters fear a repeat performance from the US leader, who clearly doesn’t like having to be one among many leaders. That’s probably unlikely. Trump will be more experienced and will have come almost immediately from bilateral meetings with a number of other leaders. But it is a distinct risk that would damage both APEC and US leadership in the region.

Trump won’t be the only leader making his APEC debut; Korea’s president Moon Jae-in, New Zealand’s Jacinda Ardern, Taiwan’s Tsai Ing-wen and Hong Kong’s Carrie Lamb are all first-timers. Trump is also scheduled to have a range of bilateral meetings ‘on the sidelines’, including with Rodrigo Duterte and Malcolm Turnbull. This kind of diplomatic speed dating is one of APEC’s enduring points of appeal.

Yet Trump travels as a president under siege. Beset by historically low approval ratings and a special prosecutor who has just indicted his former campaign chairman, the contrast to Xi Jinping’s domestic political fortunes couldn’t be more stark. The general secretary of the Communist Party of China has buttressed his position atop Chinese politics and has laid out an ambitious vision for China’s global role at the 19th national party congress.

Xi Jinping will give a keynote address at the meeting and is expected to use it to reiterate China’s commitment to economic openness and a broader leadership position in the regional economy. While Xi won’t couch it in explicitly competitive terms, he’ll use APEC as another platform from which to project China’s alternative regional order. Asia’s multilateral mechanisms will be a forum for great-power competition. Even if it isn’t overt or heated, the contest will be in plain sight.

APEC was Trump’s main excuse for going to the region, yet the impression is that it, and the other multilaterals, aren’t a high priority for him. The forum may have been established to promote trade liberalisation, but its value is now as a diplomatic platform. On stage will be competing visions for Asia’s future. Trump’s belligerent rhetoric, poor strategy and prickly demeanour will stand in contrast to Xi’s carefully modulated tone, avuncular attitude and highly strategic outlook. APEC won’t be the place where Asia’s future will be definitively determined, but it will show us how the competition is going.

Mr Trump goes to China

US President Donald Trump is spending nearly two weeks in Asia, visiting Japan, South Korea, China, Vietnam and the Philippines. Putting China at the center of the trip makes sense, because it constitutes the most important stop in both strategic and economic terms.

North Korea will dominate much of the conversation when Trump is in China, in large part because he is counting on Chinese leaders to solve the North Korea problem for the United States. This approach is understandable, because the bulk of North Korea’s trade transits Chinese territory, and China could exert enormous pressure on the North if it so chose.

But Trump will likely come away disappointed. China will resist deploying its full leverage, lest it undermine North Korea’s stability and end up worse off as a result. The irony and potential tragedy of China’s position is that allowing North Korea to increase and improve its nuclear and missile arsenals could fuel momentum towards war, or lead South Korea, Japan, or both to reconsider their non-nuclear postures. Any of these outcomes would be inconsistent with Chinese strategic interests; but, like many governments, China’s leaders will seek to avoid difficult decisions in the short run, even if this results in damaging outcomes over time.

The North Korea problem is but one of many on the Sino-US agenda, which includes other geopolitical matters (most notably, the situation in the South China Sea and the status of Taiwan). There are also economic issues that need to be addressed, such as China’s failure to respect intellectual property, its large government subsidies to export-oriented firms, its restriction of access to its market, and its efforts to require foreign firms doing business in China to transfer advanced technology to Chinese firms.

The list of issues dividing these two important and powerful countries is thus long and difficult, reinforcing the pessimism of those who predict that the bilateral relationship will continue to sour. One of the arguments that the pessimists marshal is the historical pattern whereby rising and established powers tend to end up competing with one another, or even fighting.

One recent book, by the Harvard political scientist Graham Allison, focuses on the so-called ‘Thucydides Trap’, named for the ancient Greek historian who chronicled the competitive relationship that ultimately produced the Peloponnesian War between a rising Athens and Sparta, the superpower of its day. Allison portrays China and the US in these roles, and calls his book Destined for War.

Such predictions are unwarranted. They discount the dampening effect of nuclear weapons, which for more than four decades helped keep the Cold War between the US and the Soviet Union from turning hot. They also overlook the ability of the US and China to finesse their disagreement over Taiwan. Diplomacy can and will matter; little is inevitable in international relations.

Indeed, the US and China have managed to keep their ties on a relatively even keel, despite the disappearance of the original rationale for their relationship—shared antipathy towards the Soviet Union—when the Cold War ended a quarter-century ago. The extensive economic relationship that has evolved since then has given both countries a stake in maintaining good relations. And, given China’s need for external stability to pursue economic development, its leaders have acted with considerable restraint.

Still, the pessimists’ concerns cannot be dismissed. After all, countries often fail to act in their own self-interest, or events simply spin out of control. For example, Chinese leaders may be tempted to act more assertively to placate public opinion amid a slowing economy, and to take advantage of opportunities created by a US that has retreated from regional trade accords.

The stakes are high, as the history of the 21st century will be affected in no small part by the character of the Sino-American relationship. Trump, who vacillates between tough criticism of China over trade and encomiums to President Xi Jinping, will have to balance pressing his legitimate concerns over trade with the need to avoid starting a trade war. And Xi will have to judge what he can give to satisfy his American visitor without jeopardising his or the party’s standing in the eyes of the Chinese people.

North Korea, though, will be the biggest test. Trump and Xi must find a way to defuse the looming crisis on the Korean peninsula—or manage the consequences should diplomacy fail and war erupt. In the latter scenario, it would be essential that a second Korean War not lead to direct US–Chinese combat, as the first one did. And cooperation would be essential to maintain control over North Korea’s nuclear materials. All of this will require deft diplomacy. Trump and Xi, one sincerely hopes, will soon be laying the groundwork for it.

Trump’s opportunity in Asia

A year after his election, US President Donald Trump is making his first official visit to Asia. The 12-day tour of five countries—Trump’s longest foreign trip so far—will, according to official briefings, focus on easing doubts about the reliability of the United States and its leader. Given the challenges and possibilities for the US in Asia, that is an unambitious goal.

Trump is starting his trip by reinforcing America’s alliances with Japan and South Korea—alliances that he previously discounted and belittled, particularly during his campaign. The aim is to buttress his demand, which he will reiterate when he reaches Beijing, that China follow through on its pledges in the United Nations Security Council to tighten sanctions on North Korea.

Next, Trump will head to Vietnam and the Philippines. Close relations with both are necessary to underpin ongoing US efforts to challenge China’s growing influence in Southeast Asia. President Barack Obama’s administration had mixed results in competing for influence with China. Trump administration officials have lately hinted that the US may, at some point, devise a new strategy for the entire Indo-Pacific region.

Beyond foreign policy, Trump’s Asian tour should also advance some economic objectives. A large group of US corporate leaders will accompany Secretary of Commerce Wilbur Ross to China, where they will seek to strike deals, promote open markets, and address abuses in bilateral trade. Chinese officials, for their part, have indicated that they will announce new agreements and consider opening parts of the Chinese market that are now closed to outsiders.

So far, so good. But so far is not far enough.

Talks with officials around the region reveal that America’s friends and allies have not received the sort of advance briefings that are normally used to prepare the ground for important new policies and undertakings. More fundamentally, briefings and statements in the run-up to the trip have shown no regard for major political and strategic trends that are now converging—trends that must inform any comprehensive US policy towards Asia.

The first such trend is the decline of the US-led unipolar world order that has prevailed since the end of the Cold War, and the reemergence of great-power rivalries. China, Russia, Europe and the Middle East are all headed in new directions, and America no longer has the capacity it once did to influence them. The Trump administration needs to abandon its complacency and pursue competitive coalition-building.

Doing so will require Trump’s confident assertion of the benefits of the US-led liberal international order, which China and Russia are now challenging. It will also demand that Trump display leadership in forging international cooperation, particularly on trade.

Just as Trump has walked back his denigration of America’s European and Asian allies, he should stifle his inclination for protectionism and unilateral action. Politically, Trump stands to gain much more by leading the way toward a new multilateral free-trade agreement than he would by pursuing isolationism and allowing China to assume trade leadership in Asia.

And Trump has a golden opportunity to do so. Though he pulled the US out of the Trans-Pacific Partnership early in his term, the remaining 11 partners are moving to sustain most of the agreement. Why not get back in front of the parade and demonstrate a capacity for leadership in changing times?

Meanwhile, the Trump administration needs to be more ambitious in pressing China for greater reciprocity in market access and competition. Earlier this year, Trump praised China for making promises on this front, even though it had already made—and broken—the same promises to the Obama administration.

The US wants access to financial-services markets in China, but appears willing to settle, at least for now, for openings in credit research services and, possibly, credit-card marketing. Meanwhile, China leads the world in disruptive financial technologies (fintech), with payments by mobile phone replacing credit cards.

The second major trend that should be informing the Trump administration’s Asia policy is Chinese President Xi Jinping’s consolidation of power. By not designating a successor to Xi, the Communist Party of China’s recent 19th National Congress has opened the way for him to serve a third term.

With so much political capital, Xi now has the scope to adjust his stance on domestically sensitive issues, according to China’s longer-term interests and his own. China’s recent agreement to normalise relations with South Korea, after more than a year of acrimony, may reflect the effect of Xi’s liberation from succession politics.

Prior to the 19th National Congress, China insisted on punishing South Korea for allowing the US to deploy its Terminal High Altitude Area Defense antimissile system on its territory. But this approach brought China no benefits; on the contrary, it damaged China’s reputation in South Korea. Now, China is backing off.

Trump should seize this moment to secure greater cooperation from China in tackling, along with South Korea, the North Korean threat. China is not in a position to shut down North Korea’s nuclear-weapon and ballistic-missile programs. But it can cooperate with the US to narrow the North’s choices and reduce the potential for a conflagration on the Korean peninsula, such as through covert cooperation and official contingency planning for the future of North Korea. When Trump meets Xi in Beijing, he should offer a path towards just such a strategic compromise.

As it stands, it seems that Trump is hoping to impress critics with headlines about what are actually small-bore accomplishments. But there are historic opportunities ahead. Trump’s Asia trip is the ideal moment to begin to seize them.

Leadership in Asia: don’t count the US out

America, the pundits keep telling us, is failing to exercise leadership in Asia. Crippled by a crisis of confidence and distracted by an erratic and bizarre president, Washington seems adrift and anxious. Add to that ‘a hollowed-out bureaucracy that has been slow to develop and implement strategy’, as the eminent columnist David Ignatius has warned, and it’s no wonder doubts are growing about US commitments in the region and elsewhere.

Meanwhile, a rising Beijing is probing US vulnerabilities and testing American resolve in the region. China has emerged from two centuries of weakness and humiliation. It has mastered Western technologies and economic ideas. As a result, many Chinese feel they are finally in a position to command the confidence and credibility that are being showcased at the Communist Party’s national congress this week.

But, to paraphrase Mark Twain, reports of America’s retreat are greatly exaggerated. That’s not to deny that after years of needless and costly wars, US influence in the Persian Gulf is more limited. And in the absence of an overriding strategic threat—Russia is a declining great power—US hegemony in Europe is less necessary than it was during the Cold War. But across most of Asia, there remains a well-founded conviction that the US—even with Donald Trump in the White House—will remain the predominant power in defence, education, innovation and energy self-sufficiency.

Start with defence. Trump has reaffirmed alliances with Japan, South Korea and Australia. So much for being free riders on US security commitments.

What about Trump’s bellicose taunting of North Korean dictator Kim Jong-un? It is fraught with the danger of unintended consequences. But at least the deployment of the advanced missile-defence system known as THAAD reaffirms the decades-old US policy of containment and deterrence in Northeast Asia.

Remember, too, that America has the largest and the world’s most technologically superior military. It spends more on defence than the next 10 or so nations combined. Still not convinced? Then consider this: the most potent form of force projection is the aircraft carrier; the US has 11, while China has only one (a second-hand Ukrainian ship).

True, Trump’s decision to withdraw America from the 12-nation Trans-Pacific Partnership repudiates the US-led world of freer markets and liberal trade. But it’s worth remembering he has not imposed the advertised 45% tariffs on China or the 30% tariffs on Mexico that would have pushed the global economy into recession. Beijing is pitching an alternative to the TPP, the Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership, but the Chinese regime all too often imposes various regulatory barriers to imports.

Bear also in mind that the US has the world’s most diverse and technologically advanced economy. It remains the issuer of its reserve currency. In the Trump era, too, bullish sentiments prevail; stocks are hitting record highs, and deregulation and company tax cuts are on the legislative agenda.

Much has been made of the displaced white working-class folks from America’s de-industrialised Midwest, who helped make Trump the 45th president. But there are two sides to the kind of creative destruction millions of Americans have experienced. As Joshua Cooper Ramo, author of The seventh sense, has observed, there are nine global tech platforms that are used by more than a billion people. (Think Google, Facebook, Microsoft, Apple et al.) All are US companies that dominate their markets.

America has also transformed itself into an energy superpower. How so? Because the shale gas ‘fracking’ revolution means energy self-sufficiency and independence. US states are also investing heavily in green technologies. Yes, Trump pulled the US out of the Paris climate accords, but its carbon emissions are declining dramatically whereas China’s net emissions are still steadily escalating.

Crucially, demographic trends work to America’s advantage: it has moderately high immigration and fertility rates, while China, as the saying goes, will grow old before it grows rich. Even if Beijing can sort out its long-term demographic problems, other big challenges loom: political, ethnic and environmental.

As Professor David Shambaugh, one of the world’s leading China watchers, has argued, China’s political system is badly broken and, although Xi Jinping has unprecedented power, his ‘despotism’ is stressing China’s system and society and pushing it towards breaking point.

What does all this mean for Australia?

In recent years, Canberra has taken several positions that tilt in Beijing’s favour: from joining the China-run Asian Infrastructure and Investment Bank, to leasing the Darwin Port to a Chinese company, to failing to follow up America’s seven freedom-of-navigation patrols in two years through the South China Sea. The cumulative impact is that the US might think it can’t rely on Australia for unqualified support in any Sino-American crisis.

On the other hand, the Australian government is increasingly more skeptical about China. Last year it rejected a Chinese bid to buy Australia’s largest electricity network. Earlier this year, it thwarted Beijing’s plans to establish a link between investment in the Northern Territory and the Belt and Road Initiative. And doubts are intensifying over Chinese involvement in our domestic affairs. Meanwhile, polls show that although Australians shy away from Trump, support for the US alliance remains strong.

None of this is surprising. Like much of Asia, Canberra knows that the US is far from acting like a ‘pitiful, helpless giant’, as Richard Nixon famously warned. It remains heavily engaged in the region, and, notwithstanding the doubts and uncertainties about President Trump, the 21st century is likely to remain America’s Pacific century.

Cambodia’s latest crackdown

Crackdowns, like protests, gain momentum fast. But the things that set them in motion often have a slow, heavy build-up. In Cambodia, Prime Minister Hun Sen’s new move to hang onto power gained force quickly, shocking people after Kem Sokha, the head of the opposition, was arrested on treason charges. And then, at the beginning of this month, the famed Cambodia Daily newspaper shuttered its doors.

Its last headline was: ‘Descent into outright dictatorship’.

The latest news is that another opponent of Hun Sen, Mu Sochua, quickly left Cambodia after threats of arrest. Sochua, a deputy president of the Cambodia National Rescue Party (CNRP), says that half the party’s parliamentarians have fled the country. She’s now calling for sanctions against her country, including visa restrictions on top officials (but not constraints on the exports of garments to markets in the US and EU, on which the livelihoods of hundreds of thousands of Cambodian workers depend).

There have also been many arrests, ongoing worries by Hun Sen over ‘colour revolutions’, and some truly weird stuff, like accusations levelled at one former Cambodia-based reporter that he is a CIA spy responsible for the fall of Korean president Park Joon-hye.

None of this is exactly new for Cambodia, not least the spook accusations (though Park’s destruction was a creative touch by the pro-government Fresh News Asia). But it suddenly seems like the one-party democracy is taking a further authoritarian turn, brought on by fears about next year’s election.

The 2013 vote delivered the first serious slap to the Cambodian People’s Party (CPP) in a long time, with the CNRP losing by just 300,000 votes. The by-election in June this year failed to fully deliver on those gains—the CNRP won 44% of the vote rather than the expected 60%, and the CPP won 51%—but it hasn’t assuaged an apparently panicked Hun Sun.

The shooting of critic and political analyst Kem Ley last year and the dozens of arrests of critics were initial signs that things were getting worse. Other activists were tied up in legal or tax cases.

Kem Sokha was arrested in September and faces decades in jail on treason charges for apparently conspiring with Americans to overthrow the government. However, one observer, historian and writer Alphonsus Pettit, has noted that:

[Sokha’s] speech was not dissimilar to the types of things opposition politicians would say anywhere else in the democratic world. The fact that it was said before the elections in 2013, and had gone unnoticed since then, made Hun Sen’s reaction all the more unfathomable.

But revolution in general, and colour revolutions in particular, have been much on Hun Sen’s mind. He has Chinese money for a proposed think tank to study them. Analysts concur that the latest crackdown rather misses the point: if the aim is to keep the party in power, more repression probably won’t do that. The days are gone when an illiterate populace was happy to see the cyclops strongman in a village handing out rice; they’re younger and understand social media now.

Like in neighbouring Vietnam, social media has significantly changed the playing field in China and Laos. The Cambodian government’s and citizenry’s grasp of the power of social media is neither as sophisticated as Vietnam’s and China’s, nor as basic as Laos’. However, all three communist neighbours are on hand to give tips and, with China’s growing influence (remember ASEAN in 2012?), repression is more likely to be welcomed than condemned.

China certainly doesn’t care about a crackdown unless it threatens to create protests that could target Chinese business or citizens. In fact, it has suggested support for Hun Sen, who’s more used to being attacked by opponents like former CNRP leader Sam Rainsy as Hanoi’s lackey than as Beijing’s latest strongman stooge.

Geng Shuang, a foreign ministry spokesperson, said that China ‘supports the Cambodian government’s efforts to protect national security and stability’.

Should the West ‘do something’? President Trump likely doesn’t care much, and international intervention has varied effect. The West has been ‘doing things’ in Cambodia for decades, and yet the mess remains. International official protests over crackdowns haven’t worked in Vietnam, China or the Philippines.

Sochua’s suggested targeted sanctions offer a better solution than rhetoric or an embargo on a very poor nation. Such a move has been backed by US senators John McCain and Dick Durbin, who recently introduced a Senate resolution that asked the Treasury and State Departments to place senior Cambodian officials on the ‘Specially Designated Nationals’ list, which would prevent them from entering the US.

Will it work? No—at least not in the sense of fixing the situation in one fell swoop. Will it help? Maybe. But then again, Sokha is charged with conspiring with the US to overthrow the Cambodian government, so who is listening to Washington?

A new front in Asia’s water war

China has long regarded fresh water as a strategic weapon—one that the country’s leaders have no compunction about wielding to advance their foreign-policy goals. After years of using its chokehold on almost every major transnational river system in Asia to manipulate water flows themselves, China is now withholding data on upstream flows to put pressure on downstream countries, particularly India.

For decades, China has been dragging its neighbours into high-stakes games of geopolitical poker over water-related issues. Thanks to its forcible annexation of Tibet and other non-Han Chinese ethnic homelands—territories that comprise some 60% of its landmass—China is the world’s unrivaled hydro-hegemon. It is the source of cross-border riparian flows to more countries than any other state.

In recent years, China has worked hard to exploit that status to increase its leverage over its neighbours, relentlessly building upstream dams on international rivers. China is now home to more dams than the rest of the world combined, and the construction continues, leaving downstream neighbours—especially the vulnerable lower Mekong basin states, Nepal, and Kazakhstan—essentially at China’s mercy.

So far, China has refused to enter into a water-sharing treaty with a single country. It does, however, share some hydrological and meteorological data—essential to enable downstream countries to foresee and plan for floods, thereby protecting lives and reducing material losses.

Yet, this year, China decided to withhold such data from India, undermining the efficacy of India’s flood early-warning systems—during Asia’s summer monsoon season, no less. As a result, despite below-normal monsoon rains this year in India’s northeast, through which the Brahmaputra River flows after leaving Tibet and before entering Bangladesh, the region faced unprecedented flooding, with devastating consequences, especially in Assam state.

China’s decision to withhold crucial data is not only cruel; it also breaches the country’s international obligations. China is one of just three countries that voted against the 1997 United Nations Watercourse Convention, which called for the regular exchange of hydrological and other data between co-basin states. But China did enter into a five-year bilateral accord, which expires next year, requiring it to transfer to India hydrological and meteorological data daily from three Brahmaputra-monitoring stations in Tibet during the risky flood season, from 15 May to 15 October. A similar agreement, reached in 2015, covers the Sutlej, another flood-prone river. Both accords arose after flash floods linked to suspected discharges from Chinese projects in Tibet repeatedly ravaged India’s Arunachal and Himachal states.

Unlike some other countries, which offer hydrological data to their downstream counterparts for free, China does so only for a price. (The Watercourse Convention would have required that no charges be levied, unless the data or information was ‘not readily available’—a rule that may also have contributed to China’s ‘no’ vote.)

But it was a price India was willing to pay. And this year, as always, India sent the agreed amount. Yet it received no data, with the Chinese foreign ministry claiming after almost four months that upstream stations were being ‘upgraded’ or ‘renovated’. That claim was spurious: China did supply data on the Brahmaputra to Bangladesh.

Three weeks earlier, the state-controlled newspaper Global Times offered a more plausible explanation for China’s failure to deliver the promised data to India: the data transfer had been intentionally halted, owing to India’s supposed infringement on Chinese territorial sovereignty in a dispute over the remote Himalayan region of Doklam. For much of the summer, that dispute took the form of a border standoff where Bhutan, Tibet, and the Indian state of Sikkim meet.

But even before the dispute flared in mid-June, China was seething over India’s boycott of its 14–15 May summit promoting the much-vaunted ‘Belt and Road’ initiative. The denial of data apparently began as an attempt to punish India for condemning China’s massive cross-border infrastructure agenda as an opaque, neocolonial enterprise. China’s desire to punish India was then reinforced by the Doklam standoff.

For China, it seems, international agreements stop being binding when they are no longer politically convenient. This reading is reinforced by China’s violations of its 1984 pact with the United Kingdom, under which China gained sovereignty over Hong Kong in 1997. China claims that the agreement, based on the formula ‘one country, two systems’, had lost ‘practical significance’ over the last 20 years.

Were the roles reversed, a downstream China would have stridently accused an upstream India of exacerbating flood-related death and destruction by breaching its international obligations. But just as China has unilaterally and aggressively asserted its territorial and maritime claims in Asia, it is using the reengineering of cross-border riparian flows and denial of hydrological data to deepen its regional power.

In fact, China’s cutoff of water data, despite the likely impact on vulnerable civilian communities, sets a dangerous precedent of indifference to humanitarian considerations. It also highlights how China is fashioning unconventional tools of coercive diplomacy, whose instruments already range from informally boycotting goods from a targeted country to halting strategic exports (such as of rare-earth minerals) and suspending Chinese tourist travel.

Now, by seizing control over water—a resource vital to millions of lives and livelihoods—China can hold another country hostage without firing a single shot. In a water-stressed Asia, taming China’s hegemonic ambition is now the biggest strategic challenge.