Tag Archive for: Donald Trump

The EU’s year of fundamental choices

This year was always going to be important for the European Union, given the start of a new EU Commission mandate, a relatively new European Parliament and a change at the helm of the European Council. But recent developments—including the collapse of the German government, the beginning of coalition negotiations led by the far right in Austria, the end of Russian gas flows to the EU via Ukraine and Donald Trump’s victory in the US presidential election—have raised the stakes significantly.

Moreover, Europe confronts a volatile geopolitical environment. Beyond the grinding war in Ukraine, a violent reconfiguration is underway in the Middle East, exemplified by the collapse of dictator Bashar al-Assad’s regime in Syria and Israel’s military campaigns in Gaza, Lebanon and beyond. The Sahel, too, is gripped by upheaval, with countries such as Mali and Niger enduring military rule and intra-communal brutality. Nearby Sudan is in freefall, with widespread violence having led to economic collapse, mass displacement and an escalating humanitarian crisis.

All these developments demand responses from the EU. Among other things, it must recalibrate its approach to Africa, coordinating with allies to deliver support that addresses development, security and humanitarian imperatives. And it must provide increasing support to Ukraine, both to sustain the country’s resistance against Russia and to advance the Herculean reconstruction effort that is already underway.

Such efforts will be all the more important—and more complicated—with Trump in the White House. While it is impossible to say precisely what he will do once in office—his latest panic-inducing fixation seems to be taking control of Greenland—no one should count on the United States’ commitment to support its allies. On the contrary, Trump’s promise to end the war in Ukraine immediately upon taking office augurs capitulation to Russia, underscoring the need for increased EU aid for Ukraine and rapid strengthening of Europe’s defence capacity.

The EU knows well that it must take greater responsibility for its own security: the theme of Poland’s six-month EU Council presidency, which began on January 1, is ‘Security, Europe!’ But if this is to be more than a slogan, the EU will have to boost investment in research and development, pursue strategies to foster innovation and enhance collaboration among member states.

Such initiatives can also bolster EU efforts to tackle declining economic competitiveness at a time when aging populations are straining public budgets and impeding productivity growth in many countries. Stimulating investment in advanced sectors such as artificial intelligence, defence and green energy is essential, particularly given the additional economic strain on the EU implied by the import tariffs that Trump is threatening to introduce.

What the EU must not do is resort to indiscriminate protectionism—including against China. In fact, the EU needs a China strategy that prevents it from being swept into an all-encompassing confrontation and strikes a balance between maintaining mutually beneficial relations, preserving foundational alliances and defending the international order from attempts to destabilise it.

But external developments are just part of the challenge. Internally, Europe is grappling with widespread democratic erosion. While Hungary stands at the vanguard of this trend, it is hardly alone: even France and Germany—the traditional engines of EU integration—appear to be at risk of democratic backsliding. Trump crony Elon Musk is not helping matters, as he backs far-right parties like Alternative fur Deutschland.

There is also considerable disagreement among member states on a range of issues, from the trade deal with Mercosur, which was agreed in principle last month, to threat assessments regarding the Ukraine war. Whereas Poland remains adamant that the war must end with a return to the recognised borders, France is now urging Ukraine to engage in ‘realistic discussions on territorial issues.’ Meanwhile, Slovakia’s Kremlin-friendly prime minister is threatening to cut financial support for Ukrainian refugees in his country.

EU enlargement is another source of tension. Since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, the EU has opened accession talks with Bosnia and Herzegovina, Moldova and Ukraine, and granted Georgia candidate-country status. But the hasty addition of new members would only undermine cohesion and compound decision-making inefficiencies. A clear, realistic methodology for accession based on objective criteria is badly needed, as is a sober assessment of whether each candidate can be integrated effectively into the EU’s structural framework.

In the meantime, practical measures and de facto agreements can deepen the EU’s ties with prospective member states and bolster their progress toward accession. Ukraine’s integration into the EU’s mobile-roaming network and trade agreements, and the synchronisation of its electricity grid with the Continental European Network, offer a useful model.

A final imperative for the EU in 2025 is to reform its institutional structures and decision-making processes. This must include a review of the ideologically-driven regulations contained in current legislation—the European Green Deal at the centre of Ursula von der Leyen’s first mandate is a prime example—and efforts to improve transparency, accountability and efficiency within European institutions, thereby enhancing their responsiveness and reliability. Fostering greater engagement with citizens through clear, open communication from Brussels, along with citizen-driven initiatives, would also help to strengthen the EU’s legitimacy and resilience. Progress on any of these fronts will require considerable political resolve from lawmakers in Brussels.

How the EU navigates this complex array of internal and external challenges over the next year will determine its future as a global actor. One hopes that pragmatism, unity and long-term thinking prevail in 2025.

Trump’s inaugural speech: the clues in what he said—and didn’t say

The global security implications of Donald Trump’s inauguration speech can be best summed up by two quotes that bookended his 30-minute remarks.

The first was an emphasis on his familiar ‘America First’ philosophy. Literally three sentences beyond the requisite acknowledgements, Trump said: ‘We will not allow ourselves to be taken advantage of any longer. During every single day of the Trump administration, I will very simply put America first.’

Then in the final minute of the speech, Trump said: ‘We will be a nation like no other, full of compassion, courage and exceptionalism. Our power will stop all wars, bring a new spirit of unity to a world that has been angry, violent and totally unpredictable.’

If the first could imply a retreat from US global engagement to concentrate on meeting its own priorities, the second indicates a continuation of an outsized role as guarantor of international security and stability. This apparent contrast could be written off as Trump saying anything and everything under the sun, but it should also be taken as a reminder that there is room in which the rest of the world can work, notably allies such as Australia.

An inaugural address is not a catalogue of policies, so we couldn’t expect it to tell us everything. But as a carefully prepared, teleprompter-read speech, it’s worth dissecting what Trump said and didn’t say.

Based on what we know of Trump’s wider views, the difference between a less engaged and a more engaged US will involve greater burden-sharing for allies. Those that take their security as seriously as the US does, and don’t assume the Americans will ride to the rescue, will get a better hearing. Persuading Trump that you are not taking advantage of US idealism is the number one reference point for other governments. That might happen through defence investment, as with wealthy countries such as Australia or NATO members, or showing mettle in the face of bullying, as with middle income friends such as the Philippines.

As expected, the most immediate challenge Australia and others face is trade and tariffs. The most detailed example of America First that Trump outlined was on revenue-raising through tariffs, including the creation of an ‘External Revenue Service’, mirroring the Internal Revenue Service or US tax office. Tariffs will therefore be used not just to level the playing field against China’s unfair trade practices but also as a tool to raise US government revenue.

The key security focus was the southern border—the only specific security challenge he covered in any significant detail. He declared a ‘national emergency on our southern border’ and designated drug cartels as foreign terrorist organisations.

There was no mention of allies or alliances. There was no mention of Ukraine and Russia. The only mention of the Middle East was an observation that, just before his inauguration, Hamas released some Israeli hostages.

It was notable that Trump did not say much about China, given he has sent other signals that he plans to get tough on the economic and security risks that Beijing poses, whether through high tariffs or his appointment of Marco Rubio as Secretary of State.

The single reference to China was in relation to the thorny issue of the Panama Canal, which the US built but then handed over to Panamanian ownership under a 1977 treaty signed by Jimmy Carter. This fell very much into the category of the US’s being taken advantage of and representing an economic security threat, involving the unfair charging of US ships and, above all, China’s having operational control of the canal—a reference to Chinese-funded infrastructure and contracts held by a Hong Kong-based company to run the ports at either ends of the canal. These raise security concerns just as Beijing’s interest in the Pacific, or the lease of the Port of Darwin to a Chinese firm, have raised concerns in Australia.

Trump’s vow to take the canal back, along with his interest in Greenland because of its strategic value, may explain his eyebrow-raising reference to a US that ‘expands our territory’—though so could the reference to planting the flag on Mars.

Beyond the sometimes provocative rhetoric, Trump’s interest in the Panama Canal and elsewhere can be explained more as a desire to avoid the likes of China and Russia gaining control over US strategic interests, whether geographic or technological. During other inauguration events, Trump described his preferred approach to the future of TikTok as one of joint ownership that would enable the US to exert control to protect itself.

And his answer during a press conference in the Oval Office that Gaza must ‘be rebuilt in a different way’ and that the US may be willing to help suggests he recognises that while ‘not our war’, the US has an interest in ongoing involvement in the stability of the Middle East—which will also likely include countering terrorism and resuming normalisation between Israel and Saudi Arabia.

It’s his discussion of defence from which we can glean a bit more about how Trump might use American power in the world. He outlined a broad vision of a ‘peace through strength’ doctrine but with his own signature characteristics.

He vowed to build the ‘strongest military the world has ever seen’ (which the US has actually had now for at least 80 years but perhaps for the first time is being tested by a near-peer in China). Then, most tellingly, he said his administration would measure success ‘not just through the battles we win but also by the wars that we end and perhaps most importantly the wars we never get into’.

That could indicate Trump will refuse to be drawn into foreign conflicts that his predecessors might have seen as a US duty in which to intervene for the good of the world. But it could also promise a form of deterrence so effective that no one will dare risk starting a war in the first place if it might invite any kind of US involvement. That would be consistent with his—admittedly unprovable—claim that Russia would never have dared invade Ukraine on his watch.

How will China read that with respect to its ambitions towards Taiwan? Beijing’s own unprecedented peacetime military build-up is for expansionist purposes so a US choosing military superiority for deterrence is in all our interests. That said, Trump’s failure to mention Ukraine wouldn’t have gone unnoticed in Beijing.

From what we’ve known about Trump for some years now, including from his first administration, the US will look more fondly on countries that help themselves and pitch in to a shared effort. Again, not taking advantage of the US is the key reference point.

And this needs to be the number one takeaway for countries such as Australia.

Trump the revolutionary isolationist

Donald Trump has often been dismissed as a hip-shooter devoid of strategic sense or policy vision. While this assessment is not entirely off base—he is certainly an agent of anarchy—it is incomplete. For better or for worse, Trump was one of the United States’ most revolutionary presidents during his first term, and that appears likely to be true of his second.

In the Middle East, Trump initiated the normalisation of Arab-Israeli relations. The so-called Abraham Accords between Israel and the United Arab Emirates, Bahrain, Morocco and Sudan in 2020–21 laid the groundwork for an unprecedented regional security architecture. He says he will continue this process during his second term, bringing about the normalisation of diplomatic relations between Israel and Saudi Arabia.

In East Asia, Trump decisively broke from the US’s longstanding policy of engagement with China. That policy was always based on the flawed assumption that the country’s integration into the global economy would ensure that it remained a benign international actor and, eventually, lead to democratisation. Notably, outgoing President Joe Biden did not attempt to revive it. Instead, he continued on the path laid by Trump and even increased US pressure on China.

Of course, not all revolutions have merit—and some are altogether disastrous. Consider Trump’s 2018 withdrawal from the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action that was constraining Iran’s nuclear program. It is because of that feckless decision that Iran is now closer than ever to becoming a nuclear power. Yet, Trump, the de-constructor, is also war-averse, and he would probably work for a new nuclear deal with the Islamic Republic.

As Trump begins his second term, his propensity for ruthless deal-making and wanton foreign policy disruption remains as strong as ever. For example, he seems to think that Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022 vindicated his threats not to defend NATO’s European members unless they start paying more for their defence. Now, he seems bent on keeping up the pressure on the US’s European partners and negotiating a quick deal to end the Ukraine war—an outcome that will almost certainly benefit Russia above all.

In Gaza, Trump was fully prepared to unleash an even greater hell than the enclave has been enduring unless Hamas released the last of the Israeli hostages. Fortunately, the just-approved ceasefire deal between Hamas and Israel—which Trump helped to seal—means that the besieged people of Gaza might not have to find out that there are Trumpian circles of hell worse than what they are experiencing.

Add to that Trump’s recent suggestions that he would rename the Gulf of Mexico the Gulf of America, reclaim the Panama Canal, somehow takeover Greenland (perhaps even by military force) and annex Canada, and a clear message emerges. Trump believes that violating longstanding norms, abandoning or renegotiating international agreements and reconsidering alliances is the most effective way to build a global system that better serves the US’s interests—not least its interest in reducing its external obligations.

Trump subscribes to a brand of isolationism that has waxed and waned throughout US history, but has its roots in the Monroe Doctrine. In 1823, America’s fifth president, James Monroe, declared that the United States would not intervene in the affairs of European countries (or their colonies and dependencies), and warned those countries not to interfere in the western hemisphere, such as through colonisation. Any breach of this line by a European power would be viewed as a hostile act against the US.

Trump confirmed his adherence to the Monroe Doctrine in a 2018 speech at the United Nations. This position is undoubtedly linked to the US-China competition: Trump wants to deter the US’s global rival from interfering in the US’s near-abroad.

But this is precisely what China is doing. China’s ambitious strategy in Latin America and the Caribbean, as defined in a 2016 policy paper, spells out its drive to expand security cooperation throughout the region, thus representing an encroachment on the US’s immediate neighbourhood. China has also financed significant infrastructure projects, some of which are of critical strategic importance. Alarm bells also were raised in Washington about Chinese spy bases in Cuba.

Trump’s message implicitly accepts a world order based on spheres of influence, as envisioned by China and Russia. His warning last year that he would let Russia do ‘whatever the hell’ it wanted to any NATO member that failed to meet its defence-spending commitments is further evidence of his stance. So is his threat to seize control of Greenland. Not only is the resource-rich island closer to North America than it is to Europe; it is also located in the Arctic, a new frontier of strategic competition with Russia and China.

Though Denmark has controlled Greenland for centuries, the arrangement has evolved over time. The island became a Danish colony in 1721, though it was America’s 1916 declaration that Denmark could extend its control to all of Greenland that opened the way for international recognition of Danish sovereignty. Greenland became a district of Denmark in 1953 before adopting home rule in 1979 and gaining near-complete autonomy in 2009 (Denmark still controls domains like defence).

The US has long sought influence in Greenland, having established military bases there during World War II. With Trump threatening to take this effort to a new level, Greenland’s prime minister, Mute Egede, has begun calling for total independence—or, as he put it, removing the shackles of colonialism. But in an age of power politics—as seen in Ukraine, the Middle East and East Asia, and reflected in Trump’s relentlessly belligerent rhetoric—can a territory like Greenland get to decide its fate?

So far, US allies have only symbolically challenged Trump’s dangerous pronouncements. For example, in December, Danish King Frederik X updated the royal coat of arms, removing the three crowns symbolising the Kalmar Union—which comprised Denmark, Norway and Sweden, and lasted from 1397 to 1523—and making the polar bear, to represent Greenland, and the ram, for the Faroe Islands, more prominent.

Such actions will do nothing to protect Greenland should Trump press the issue. One wonders if it has become passe to expect the leader of the free world to conduct policies toward allies without recourse to intimidation and war.

Space and Australia: opportunities in the second Trump administration

Enhancing space cooperation between Australia and the United States should be a priority for Canberra in the second Trump administration. In defence terms, that could include strengthening collaboration between the US and Australia in space domain awareness and through collaboration on space control. Leveraging locally developed space capability through assured government support of Australia’s commercial space sector is also important, as is sovereign space launch to ensure space access, resilience and ultimately deterrence by denial in space.

Space is likely to be a greater priority for the incoming Trump administration than the previous Biden administration, particularly given guidance in Project 2025. First, the Trump administration will seek to get NASA’s Artemis program back on trajectory after continued delays have seen the initial goal of a lunar landing in 2024 pushed back to 2027, while promoting rapid growth of the commercial space sector. Second, expansion of the US Space Force—established by Trump in 2019—to respond to growing counterspace threats by China and Russia is highly likely, again in line with Project 2025.

Trump’s inauguration speech talked of ‘planting the US flag on Mars’, suggesting he has also endorsed Elon Musk’s SpaceX-led prioritisation of getting humans on the Martian surface as early as 2029. However, if this focus on Mars becomes the centrepiece of US space policy, it will draw the US’s attention away from the Moon, potentially handing the lead in any effort to return to the lunar surface  over to China. Trump therefore needs to delicately manage this approach, as well as Musk’s role and ambitions.

Australia supports the United States’ Artemis project and is set to send a lunar rover to the Moon by 2026. With Trump likely to fast-track Artemis, Australian commercial space companies should be supported by the government to play a larger and more visible role in Artemis. For example, Australian-built small satellites could be delivered to lunar orbit to support surface activities, taking advantage of sovereign space launch to maximise Australia’s direct role in Artemis.

In terms of space and defence, there will be new opportunities for the ADF to increase its role in space. Australia should consider how the ADF can practically support the US Space Force if it takes a more proactive approach to the mission of space control in response to Chinese and Russian anti-satellite threats. Once again, sovereign space launch can play a key role in this new mission for the ADF in space.

While Australia has embraced a more sophisticated approach to the space domain in defence policy, the Albanese government has made significant cuts to investment into space, and lacks a national space strategy to guide Australian space activities. With a federal election looming, the winning party will need to reverse that drift in space policy and clearly commit to supporting civil and defence space activities, including in collaboration with the US and other partners. That will be particularly important as the Trump administration adopts a more ambitious approach in space. Australia must step up and increase its burden-share in orbit.

On the civil side, a good place to start would be the preparation and release of a national space strategy that guides future space activities and investment as a whole-of-nation enterprise. That could also see the Australian Space Agency become a statutory agency, supported by a dedicated minister for space policy (as has been done in New Zealand).

Australia’s space policy agenda must include building greater opportunities for small and medium enterprises, including to support international space activities such as Artemis. Sovereign space launch should play a key role, but small-satellite manufacturing and ground-based elements must also be fully supported. The goal should be an end-to-end space ecosystem that offers growth and stability to space enterprises, ending years of drift and uncertainty. That would also enable the civil and commercial space sectors to support defence requirements with locally developed capabilities.

Australia also needs continuing and closer cooperation with the US on both space domain awareness and collaboration towards developing common space control capabilities to protect Australian and US satellites in orbit. Space control will demand practical capability both on the Earth’s surface and, where necessary, in orbit to actively defend against counterspace threats. Space domain awareness is an essential starting point for space control, but practical effectors are needed to counter actual threats. Australia should support the development of such a capability, perhaps under Pillar 2 of AUKUS.

Finally, a major part of space control is assured access to space. It is important for government to support the development of sovereign space launch capabilities—both Australian launch sites and locally developed launch vehicles—to allow Australia and its allies to maintain resilient and survivable space support to terrestrial forces. The ability to rapidly deploy small satellites to augment existing capability, or reconstitute lost capability after an adversary attack, reinforces space resilience and strengthens space deterrence by denial. In the next National Defence Strategy, to be released in 2026, sovereign space launch provided by commercial companies needs to be explicitly declared as an important capability for ADF space policy.

As Trump returns, Sino-Indian relations are changing

Weeks before his return to the White House, US President-elect Donald Trump issued a pointed warning to the BRICS countries. ‘Go find another sucker’, he wrote on his social media platform, Truth Social, threatening the group’s nine members with 100 percent tariffs should they attempt to challenge the dollar’s global dominance.

Trump’s warning came on the heels of his campaign promise to impose a 25 percent tariff on imported goods from Canada and Mexico on his first day in office. China, the primary target of Trump’s protectionism, is expected to face an additional 10 percent tariff. While this is hardly surprising, given the escalating trade war between China and the United States, Trump has also directed his ire at India, a founding member of the BRICS and one of the US’s key allies.

So far, India has managed to avoid immediate conflict by reaffirming its commitment to the dollar. But such policy uncertainties are among the many reasons why the Indian government has been quietly hedging its bets by pursuing rapprochement with China—a move that could herald a seismic geopolitical shift.

The China-India thaw has become increasingly evident in recent months. In October, the two countries reached an agreement to end the years-long military standoff along their shared Himalayan border, setting the stage for a surprise meeting between Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi and Chinese President Xi Jinping on the sidelines of the BRICS summit in Kazan, Russia. Another sign of this shift is Indian officials’ newfound interest in attracting Chinese investment.

Meanwhile, US-India relations appear to be cooling. Since a popular uprising ousted Bangladeshi Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina in August, Modi’s favoured news outlets, social-media operatives and Hindu supremacist allies have portrayed the insurrection as a CIA-orchestrated regime change. Some have even warned of similar attempts by the US deep state to destabilise India.

Modi’s ruling Bharatiya Janata Party has since embraced anti-US sentiment, accusing the US of targeting Indian tycoon Gautam Adani—a close ally of Modi charged with securities fraud and bribery in the US—in an effort to undermine the Indian government. Such rhetoric, a stark departure from decades of strategic cooperation, evokes memories of the Cold War, when a nominally nonaligned India, wary of US interference, gravitated toward the Soviet Union.

This shift is driven by several factors, primarily the US’s diminishing ability and willingness to act as a global leader, along with China and India’s attempts to strengthen their bargaining position. With deglobalisation reshaping the world economy, the US has less to offer countries like India, which do not entirely rely on it for defence.

By contrast, China’s dominance in global supply chains has become impossible to ignore. As the world’s manufacturing superpower—producing more than the next nine largest manufacturers combined—China could support India’s efforts to expand its own industrial base. The government’s annual economic survey highlighted this imperative, stating that ‘to boost Indian manufacturing and plug India into the global supply chain’, the country must ‘plug itself into China’s supply chain.’ To this end, the report advocated a pragmatic approach focused on attracting Chinese foreign direct investment (FDI).

Such unequivocal government support for cooperation with China was once unthinkable in India, which has maintained adversarial relations with its neighbour since the 1962 Sino-Indian War. After 20 Indian soldiers were killed in border clashes in India’s Ladakh region in 2020, India responded by imposing sweeping restrictions on investments and imports from China, limiting executive visas, and banning Chinese apps. But these measures resulted in massive losses for Indian businesses reliant on Chinese imports. Worse, they deprived India of critical Chinese investments at a time when FDI inflows were already declining.

As global supply chains shift away from China, Chinese manufacturers are also relocating, establishing bases in countries that stand to benefit from the West’s friendshoring and nearshoring strategies. Chinese investments in greenfield projects tripled year on year in 2023, to US$160 billion, with much of these flows going to countries like Vietnam, Indonesia, Hungary and Serbia. India, grappling with jobless growth and high youth unemployment, is eager to capitalise on this trend.

The US, once a major source of FDI, is now competing with India for investment as it seeks to boost domestic manufacturing. This competition, which is expected to intensify under Trump, has prompted India to approve several investment proposals and offer concessions—including expedited visas—to Chinese businesses and executives.

India’s course correction aligns closely with China’s interests, as the country’s economic slowdown has piqued Chinese firms’ interest in India’s rapidly growing market. India is projected to become the world’s third-largest economy by the end of this decade and deeper engagement with it would provide China with a major buffer against US efforts to contain its geopolitical rise.

Moreover, while global attention remains focused on the escalating tariff war between the US and China, India faces significant risks of its own. Trump, who has repeatedly labelled India a very big abuser of tariffs, had revoked its preferential trade status during his first term, raising the likelihood of further punitive measures.

To be sure, India—designated by the US as a major defense partner—is unlikely to abandon its strategic relationship with the US for closer ties with China. But like other emerging powers in the Global South, India is increasingly frustrated with the inherent asymmetry of the US-led liberal international order, particularly the dollar’s hegemony.

These frictions are also fuelled by the US’s occasional rebukes of India’s treatment of minorities. Having systematically weakened democratic institutions and tightened control over the media, Modi’s government bristles at any international criticism. Fortunately for Modi, such differences may resolve themselves. After all, it’s hard to imagine Trump being overly concerned by India’s ties to Russia, anti-Muslim policies or democratic backsliding.

Still, as Modi steps up his efforts to transform India into a Hindu state, he may want to secure America’s support by signalling that he has alternatives. In that sense, India’s overtures to China could be viewed as a geopolitical manoeuvre aimed at enabling India to tell Trump to ‘go find another sucker’ should he decide to play hardball.

Donald Trump, Jon Voight and the paths to transformation or upheaval

At a breakfast meeting in a well-known restaurant a stone’s throw from the White House on Saturday, I noticed the veteran actor and Oscar-winner Jon Voight across the room. Two days out from Donald Trump’s inauguration, the incoming President’s newly minted ‘Ambassador’ to Hollywood was no doubt in town for the big occasion of Trump’s return to the Oval Office.

As I made eye contact with Voight and got a smile in return, the moment encapsulated for me the remarkable situation we’re living through: the transformation of US politics and the study in contrasts that Trump’s return to the presidency represents, with a mix of familiar faces and new allies in tow.

The pre-inauguration weekend in Washington exemplifies great American traditions: NFL playoffs, biting winter weather, and gatherings of friends and family either celebrating or commiserating over the incoming president. But this year, the atmosphere in DC carries a unique tension after a week of confirmation hearings ranging from the mundane to the bizarre.

Voight is a case in point: a rare movie star who is comfortable among the Republican elite, the MAGA hats and the Trump paraphernalia dotting the wintery landscape outside, but who has also attracted controversy for comparing ‘leftists’ to Satan. The mere fact of appointing special envoys to Hollywood—the others being Sylvester Stallone and Mel Gibson—shows Trump’s extraordinary approach to transforming even sections of the nation that have generally viewed him with scepticism or antipathy.

On the one hand, the administration’s statements promise disruption to bureaucratic inertia—the very reason a majority of Americans voted for Trump and a recognition that widespread global tensions and conflict mean a business-as-usual approach is totally inadequate. On the other, some pronouncements have caused sharp intakes of breath among Washington’s politically attuned population, who watch with a mix of fascination and dread, unable to look away from what they fear might become a slow-motion train wreck or a fast-paced wrecking ball. This duality—the potential for both transformative change and concerning upheaval—defines Trump’s leadership style.

My morning meeting with an Australian venture capitalist focused on the future of AUKUS under Trump’s second term. Despite the uncertainties that come with any administration change, the mood was surprisingly optimistic. The sense is that AUKUS—the trilateral security pact between Australia, Britain and the US—still holds the promise we’ve hoped for. There’s a prevailing belief that under Trump, capital markets will surge, potentially accelerating the defense technology collaboration that underpins the agreement.

Walking around after my meeting and close encounter with a Hollywood star, I could see the extent to which the capital has transformed in preparation for the inauguration. Downtown Washington, locked down for security, has taken on the air of a Republican stronghold. The traditional pre-inauguration ‘People’s March’ forming in Farragut Square, usually a robust demonstration, appeared subdued and diminished—a visible sign of the shifting political winds.

Mother Nature, however, has her own plans for the inauguration. An Arctic front will bring the coldest temperatures in decades, forcing the ceremony indoors to the Capitol rotunda. This weather-induced change may be a blessing in disguise, rendering moot any potential debates about crowd size—a contentious point from Trump’s first inauguration. The limited capacity of the indoor venue will naturally constrain attendance, despite the million-plus supporters and observers who flocked to DC to attend.

I’m acutely aware of the unique responsibility that a think tank such as ASPI has in Washington. We serve as a bridge, injecting Australian and regional perspectives into American national security and defense discussions. Our mission isn’t to influence but to inform and diversify the debate while providing crucial insights back to the Australian people about policies that will affect our region.

This mission has become more complex with the recent defunding of our Washington office by the Australian government. Yet the importance of our work hasn’t diminished. If anything, in these uncertain times, the need for clear-eyed analysis and regional perspective has only grown.

Looking ahead to Trump’s second term, I find myself holding mixed emotions: hope tempered by trepidation, optimism checked by concern. But above all, I’m grateful to be here at this pivotal moment, positioned to contribute unique insights that few others can provide. As the world watches America’s political transition, the view from Down Under in Washington offers a valuable perspective on this historic moment and its implications for the Indo-Pacific region.

In these early days of Trump’s return to power, one thing is certain: the dynamic and unpredictable nature of his approach will continue to challenge conventional wisdom and traditional diplomatic frameworks. For those of us working in Washington to strengthen international partnerships, the task ahead is clear—to navigate this new landscape while maintaining the robust alliance relationships that have long served both American and Australian interests.

China’s secretive build-up presents Trump with a difficult nuclear challenge

After disappearing from debate over the last couple of decades, nuclear politics are set to return with a vengeance. China has begun an unexpected and secretive nuclear force buildup. This presents a major challenge for Donald Trump’s new administration, which will want to maintain US nuclear advantage over China.

China’s shifting nuclear posture, the secrecy surrounding it, and the low likelihood of Chinese cooperation on arms control threaten stability in the Indo-Pacific region and beyond.

We have heard little from China’s official sources about its plans for nuclear expansion. The likelihood is that China is seeking parity with the US, driven by political drive for status or possibly by Chinese President Xi Jinping’s ego. If so, it would be just one of many instances of China pushing for parity in foreign and security policy. It may also be part of a general preparation for any future conflict, which should alarm not just Trump but also other leaders in the Indo-Pacific.

No other reasons make much sense. There is little deterrence logic to China’s nuclear expansion. While some scholars have suggested that China is responding to the US’s offensive and defensive capabilities, this is not particularly convincing, given that the US has not expanded its nuclear arsenal in decades. China’s expansion is more likely the result of China’s ambitions.

Other reasons for the expansion, such as empire-building pressure from within the military establishment, are also unconvincing. Strategic forces are under tight political control in China: decisions definitely flow from the top down. Anyway, such an explanation also fails to explain why a change is happening now. There is little indication that military is more influential (the evidence suggests the opposite) or that its views on nuclear force sizing have changed.

Whatever the reason, China’s nuclear expansion itself is considerable and its end state is unclear.

If this expansion is driven by the pursuit of parity, the Trump administration will face an uphill battle on nuclear arms control with China. Beijing has faced repeated calls for it to join nuclear arms control agreements, all of which it rejected on the basis that its nuclear forces are much more modest than those of other nuclear states. If China is pursuing parity, it is unlikely to be interested in nuclear arms control for a while.

Territorial tensions in the Indo-Pacific and the question of Taiwan are already raising temperatures. Adding nuclear competition to the mix only raises them further.

Until now, China’s no-first-use policy and the nuclear imbalance between the US and China have been some source of comfort. But there have been indications that China may adopt a launch-on-warning posture, meaning it might fire before suffering confirmed nuclear hits. This departure, combined with the pursuit of parity, will make crises much more dangerous.

China’s secrecy should be viewed as a threat to all nations. US-Russia nuclear arms control agreements have meant that the US could justifiably concentrate on the threat posed by Iranian and North Korean proliferation. Meanwhile, China—already the second biggest military in the world—has covertly gone down the path of nuclear proliferation.

While some refer to Trump’s powers of distraction, Beijing has become a master magician: it has sold a lie to the Indo-Pacific that Australia and its AUKUS partners are nuclear proliferators. As a result, Australia has had to defend nuclear propulsion while China rapidly and secretly expands its nuclear weaponry.

China claims to want only equality but is actually seeking superiority across the military and technology sectors, including in the nuclear sector. Reaching arms control is likely to be more difficult in the context of a dissatisfied and difficult-to-satisfy power.

Even if Beijing engages in arms control arrangements, its nuclear history should make us question its commitment. While the US and Russia cooperated on non-proliferation, China has supported nuclear proliferation in Pakistan, North Korea and possibly even Iran. This is at least partly responsible for the growing interest in nuclear weapons in South Korea and Japan.

Beijing’s wider strategic behaviour is also indirectly encouraging nuclear proliferation among its neighbours, by trying to expel the US from the region and raising their fears that they will be left alone in facing China. In those frightening circumstances, going nuclear may seem more desirable to them, if not urgently necessary.

The growing Chinese nuclear threat should be an important consideration for the Trump administration, as well as for Australia and the Indo-Pacific. Regional allies, such as Australia and Japan, should make China’s nuclear threat a key agenda item with the US, starting with the Quad meeting reportedly happening next week.

Will Trump crack the mystery of Covid-19’s origin?

The Covid-19 pandemic killed an estimated 7.1 million people worldwide, causing global life expectancy to decline by 1.6 years between 2019 and 2021. It disrupted economies, destroyed livelihoods, and strained social cohesion in many countries. Yet no one has been held accountable for it. Will US President-elect Donald Trump change that?

Five years after the emergence of SARS-CoV-2 (the virus that causes Covid-19), we still do not know where the pathogen first arose. Did it emerge naturally in the wet markets of Wuhan, China, or did it escape from the nearby Wuhan Institute of Virology (WIV), where studies into bat coronaviruses were underway?

We do know that China’s government allowed what might have been a local outbreak to morph into a global health crisis. After the first Covid-19 cases were reported in Wuhan, Chinese President Xi Jinping’s regime censored reports about the disease and hid evidence of human-to-human transmission for weeks. Meanwhile, travel to and from Wuhan was allowed to continue unhindered.

Unlike the Muslim gulag in Xinjiang province or naval-base construction in the South China Sea, however, Chinese authorities could not conceal the novel coronavirus for long, nor could the rest of the world ignore it once the secret was out. So many people contracted Covid-19 so quickly that many hospitals were soon overwhelmed, leaving many victims to be treated in tents.

China’s government then shifted from concealment to damage control. State media reframed the crisis in Wuhan as a story of successful recovery, while touting unrealistically low mortality rates. Meanwhile, Xi thwarted international efforts to initiate an independent forensic inquiry into Covid-19’s genesis, which he claimed would amount to ‘origin-tracing terrorism’. The only investigation he allowed was a 2021 joint study with the World Health Organization that China controlled and steered.

While Trump, who was president for the first few months of the pandemic, often highlighted the link between China and Covid-19, his successor, Joe Biden, effectively let China off the hook. Less than a week after his inauguration, Biden produced a presidential memorandum urging federal agencies to avoid mentioning the virus’s geographic origins.

Biden’s goal was to stem a rise in bullying, harassment and hate crimes against Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders. The toxicity of America’s partisan politics meant that pushing back against racism—which Trump and his cohort often stoked—also meant shutting down any discussion of China’s role in causing the crisis. Social-media platforms, mainstream media, and some prominent US scientists (who hid their conflicts of interest) also aided the suppression of debate about Covid-19.

The partisan divide over whether to investigate China’s responsibility for Covid-19 persists to this day. Just last month, Democrats challenged a 520-page report—produced by the Republican-controlled US House Select Subcommittee on the Coronavirus Pandemic—which concluded, after a two-year investigation, that the virus likely escaped from the WIV, faulting the report’s methodology. So, while some US government agencies—including the Department of Energy and the FBI—have given credence to the lab-leak theory, there remains no consensus in Washington.

Failure to get to the bottom of where Covid-19 originated may not only allow China to evade responsibility; it will also weaken the world’s ability to prevent another global pandemic. But there is reason to hope that the incoming Trump administration will revive the search for an answer. Beyond Trump’s own willingness to point the finger at China, some of his cabinet picks—notably, Robert Kennedy Jr, as Secretary of Health and Human Services and Jay Bhattacharya as director of the National Institutes of Health (NIH)—challenged prevailing narratives about Covid-19 (albeit sometimes in dangerous ways).

An effective investigation will require considerable transparency from the US. The NIH, the US government’s medical-research agency, was funding studies on bat coronaviruses at the WIV as far back as 2014. The NIH knew that the work was risky; it was being done in China precisely because the US has stricter rules governing ‘gain-of-function’ research, which involves modifying a biological agent’s genetic structure to confer on it new or enhanced activity, such as increasing a pathogen’s transmissibility or virulence. The NIH continued to fund research at the WIV even after multiple State Department cables flagged the lab’s lax safety standards, stopping only after the pandemic began (when it also removed the description of gain-of-function research from its website).

Making matters worse, we now know that the WIV has been carrying out classified research on behalf of the Chinese military since at least 2017. A 2021 State Department fact sheet acknowledged that some US funding for civilian research could have been diverted to secret Chinese military projects at the institute.

One rule of thumb in forensic investigations is to follow the money, so the Trump administration should start by disclosing the full extent of US funding of coronavirus research in China. But investigators will also have to follow the data, meaning that the US will have to disclose the results of the research it funded in Wuhan, which was part of a collaborative US-China scientific program.

Holding China accountable for its role in the pandemic is only the first step. To safeguard humanity’s future, the Trump administration will also have to address a more fundamental issue: dangerous gain-of-function research is still taking place in some labs in China, Russia and the West. The genetic enhancement of pathogens represents the greatest existential threat to humankind ever produced by science, even greater than nuclear weapons. By tightening rules on such activities—or, ideally, prohibiting lab research that could unleash a pandemic—Trump would leave an important positive legacy.

The US, South Korea and Japan should work together on regional challenges

 

With Donald Trump’s return to the presidency now a reality, the Indo-Pacific faces an era of heightened uncertainty driven by North Korea’s growing military capabilities and China’s expanding regional influence. In this environment, trilateral security cooperation between the United States, South Korea and Japan is paramount.

However, Trump’s typical approach to alliances—characterised by unpredictability and transactional diplomacy—poses a challenge to this partnership. A recalibration of policies and priorities will be necessary to ensure that trilateral cooperation is effective and sustainable.

The Indo-Pacific security environment has evolved since Trump’s first term. North Korea has accelerated its nuclear and missile programs, with increasingly sophisticated weapons systems capable of threatening regional and global stability. China’s assertiveness has intensified, manifesting as aggressive actions in the South and East China Seas, economic coercion and expanded military presence.

North Korea presents the most immediate and existential challenge. Trump’s initial approach to Pyongyang, centred on high-profile summits with Kim Jong-un, produced no lasting denuclearisation outcomes. In Trump’s second term, shifts between direct engagement and heightened pressure could create an unpredictable policy environment.

Trilateral security cooperation could be a stabilising mechanism, enabling the three countries to align their deterrence strategies. Integrated missile defence systems, intelligence-sharing networks and joint military exercises are essential tools to counter North Korea’s provocations. Policymakers must also focus on closing operational gaps, such as improving interoperability between the US’s THAAD missile defence system and South Korea and Japan’s Aegis-based defences, to enhance collective security.

China’s regional ambitions require similarly urgent attention. Trump’s return is likely to intensify US-China competition, with a focus on economic decoupling, technological dominance and countering Beijing’s maritime expansion. Cooperation between South Korea, Japan and the US could reinforce freedom of navigation operations in contested waters, secure critical supply chains and strengthen cybersecurity defence. However, Trump’s past insistence on burden-sharing—such as his calls for increased financial repayment for US troop presence—could complicate this dynamic, particularly if allies perceive these demands as undermining mutual trust or commitment to shared objectives.

Historical tensions between South Korea and Japan could also obstruct effective trilateral collaboration. Despite recent steps toward reconciliation, unresolved issues related to historical grievances and territorial disputes continue to strain bilateral relations. The new Trump administration must act as a mediator to prevent these tensions from undermining collective efforts. This will require consistent diplomatic leadership, which was often lacking in Trump’s first term. By institutionalising mechanisms for dialogue and cooperation, such as trilateral defence ministerial meetings and joint crisis planning, the US can help ensure that Seoul and Tokyo remain focused on shared strategic priorities.

Policy implications for a second Trump presidency extend beyond traditional security measures. The evolving nature of threats, including economic security, cyber warfare and technological competition, demands a more comprehensive approach to trilateral cooperation.

Policymakers should prioritise joint investments in critical technologies, such as semiconductor manufacturing and artificial intelligence, to reduce dependency on China and bolster resilience. Expanding cooperation in space-based surveillance and defence systems would further enhance the alliance’s ability to respond to emerging threats. Additionally, public diplomacy is needed to foster greater mutual understanding and support for trilateral cooperation among the populations of all three nations, countering domestic scepticism fuelled by nationalism.

To ensure the long-term viability of trilateral security cooperation, the Trump administration must adopt a more strategic and less transactional approach to alliances. This includes reaffirming commitments to collective defence and providing clear and consistent communication.

Ultimately, Trump’s return to office presents both challenges and opportunities for trilateral security cooperation. While his leadership style and unpredictability may strain alliances, the strategic necessity of collaboration between the US, South Korea and Japan remains undeniable. By addressing operational gaps and expanding the scope of cooperation to include emerging security domains, the trilateral alliance can serve as a cornerstone of Indo-Pacific stability.

In a region defined by rapid change and intensifying competition, the success of this partnership will be a determinant of future peace and security.

Trump’s Greenland grab

In 2019, when Donald Trump first proclaimed that the United States should buy Greenland, Danish Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen rightly dismissed the idea as absurd. Greenland is not for sale, she noted. While Denmark manages the territory’s foreign and security policies, Greenland sees to its own domestic affairs.

But now that Trump is returning to the White House, he believes that it is an absolute necessity for the US to get ownership and control of the huge Arctic territory. And even more shockingly, he says that he will not rule out the use of military force to achieve this objective—though threatening ‘huge tariffs’ remains his preferred option.

Flabbergasting as such pronouncements may seem, they are no laughing matter. Greenland is an important and sensitive diplomatic issue. Its status should be treated with care and compassion, lest a much larger crisis ensue. That would not serve anyone’s interests.

History matters here. Greenland was a Danish colony until 1953, when it became an actual province of Denmark. The vast island (the world’s largest, in fact) then adopted home rule in 1979. Since 2009, Greenland and the Kingdom of Denmark have maintained a wide-ranging autonomy arrangement in which a few policy domains—primarily security and defence—remain under the control of the government in Copenhagen.

Most of Greenland’s political parties aspire to independence for the island, and under the 2009 arrangement, they have the right to organise a referendum for that purpose. But most Greenlanders recognise that it is too early to take such a step. They first must build up the necessary capacities to function as an independent nation-state.

Given Trump’s latest interventions, it is safe to assume that the independence question will dominate Greenland’s next elections, which will be held no later than 6 April. But it is highly doubtful that there will be much support for trading the light hand of Danish rule for the grasping hands of Trump and his MAGA coalition. For better or worse, Greenlanders are committed to the Nordic welfare model and will not want to abandon it in favour of the US’s model.

Although Greenland is not part of the European Union, its people are, by dint of being citizens of Denmark. More than half of the island’s public budget is covered by the Danish government, and 90 percent of its exports (mainly shrimp) go to the EU, where they have privileged access.

While Russia and China also have territorial and economic ambitions in the Arctic, military threats to Greenland are minimal. The closest Russian outpost is 2,000 frozen kilometres away, and China’s two Arctic-capable research vessels seem to be active primarily in the waters around Antarctica.

Moreover, under a 1951 agreement (and subsequent ones), the US already has the right to base military facilities on Greenland. The Thule Air Base in the far north of the island was a huge facility in the early days of the Cold War, and despite public denials, it even housed nuclear weapons. Renamed the Pituffik Space Base, it now serves early-warning and space-surveillance functions. But as long as the US military consults Danish and Greenland authorities, it can do more or less what it wants on the island.

Denmark, for its part, operates patrol ships around Greenland, and it will soon acquire surveillance drones; but the primary purpose for its small military presence has been search and rescue.

Of course, the legacy of colonialism is never easy to deal with. Some 88 percent of Greenlanders are Inuit, and the Greenland-Denmark relationship today is not free of complicated issues from the past. But the US, hardly covered in glory by its treatment of its own indigenous population, is in no position to preach to others about similar issues.

True, Greenland has large reserves of the rare earth minerals that are used in many high-tech products. But the investment climate for extracting these resources is far from ideal, given the new political uncertainty around the island, the lack of manpower, and the fragile natural environment. Indeed, Greenland and the rest of the Arctic is warming at least twice as fast as the rest of the planet, and this translates into economic, social, and political fragility. That is all the more reason to manage Greenland’s slow journey toward more autonomy—and perhaps eventually independence—carefully, not with bombast and bullying.

Trump’s indecent proposal, delivered at the barrel of a gun, is not only absurd but dangerous. Greenland’s evolving light-touch relationship with Denmark is clearly the best option for the island.