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.

Darwin is well-placed for an uncrewed systems hub

Australia often relies on overseas facilities for uncrewed systems’ maintenance, repair and overhaul (MRO), exposing the country to operational delays, escalating costs and potential security risks. To address this vulnerability, it should establish an MRO facility for uncrewed systems in Darwin.

Uncrewed systems, including drones, uncrewed aerial vehicles and uncrewed underwater vehicles, are transforming Australia’s defence, security and commercial sectors. They have a range of applications in defence operations, border security, environmental monitoring and industrial applications such as extraction of natural resources, including natural gas.

Darwin’s strategic location, existing infrastructure and proximity to major defence and commercial partners mean it is the ideal hub for maintaining these vital assets.

The city’s strategic significance, long recognised by Australia’s defence planners, makes it the natural location for a dedicated MRO facility. As the gateway to the Indo-Pacific, Darwin’s proximity to regional and global markets, particularly Asia, provides an unparalleled advantage for servicing domestic and international clients.

This places Darwin at the crossroads of Australia’s defence and commercial interests in the region, with clear benefits for its role as a logistics and maintenance hub for uncrewed systems. Furthermore, the city’s established infrastructure, including air and sea ports, rail connections and utilities, already supports large-scale defence operations and the growing defence footprint in the region, making it primed for expansion into a world-class MRO hub for uncrewed systems.

Australian uncrewed systems are largely serviced overseas, leaving them vulnerable to extended downtimes, longer repair times and increased risk in transportation. This reliance on foreign facilities compromises Australia’s operational readiness. It hampers the efficiency of industries, such as resource extraction, that rely heavily on uncrewed technology for monitoring, inspections and surveillance.

As the Australian Defence Force and commercial sectors increasingly deploy uncrewed systems, it is essential to ensure they can be maintained and repaired promptly to avoid delays in operations, whether they involve national security, disaster response or remote infrastructure management.

As uncrewed systems are central to the future of defence operations, creating an MRO facility in Darwin would strengthen Australia’s position as a key partner in the region, with the ability to service not only its own uncrewed systems but also those of allied nations. This strategic advantage would provide a competitive edge in defence readiness and international collaborations.

Moreover, Darwin’s potential MRO facility could support other government agencies, such as the Australian Federal Police, Home Affairs and the Australian Border Force. They all use uncrewed systems for surveillance, border protection and law enforcement.

The ability to rapidly repair and maintain these systems would improve agencies’ responsiveness and availability of capabilities, ensuring that they are always equipped to respond to emerging threats. Darwin could thus play a greater role in Australia’s broader security architecture, providing reliable, homegrown support to key domestic and international partners.

From a commercial perspective, establishing an MRO facility in Darwin would be commercially viable and a boon for local businesses.

With the growing demand for uncrewed systems in industries such as liquefied natural gas (LNG), telecommunications and mining, establishing a local MRO facility would significantly reduce the reliance on overseas service providers. This would cut transport costs and ensure faster turnaround of repairs, improving the operational efficiency of these industries.

It would also create a thriving commercial ecosystem around uncrewed systems in the Northern Territory. Local businesses would be able to engage with the growing global market for uncrewed systems, contributing to job creation and the region’s economic growth.

For this MRO facility to be commercially successful, it should be designed as a multi-use facility, capable of supporting not only defence and government sectors but also commercial enterprises. This approach would ensure financial sustainability through a diversified revenue stream.

Partnerships with commercial operators in the LNG, mining, and telecommunications sectors could provide steady demand for services.

Moreover, collaborations with international partners—such as the United States, Japan and other Indo-Pacific nations—could provide further opportunities for industry growth, turning Darwin into a regional centre for uncrewed system innovation and service.

Such collaborations could include joint research and development projects, knowledge sharing and training programs, further enhancing the facility’s global relevance.

Establishing an MRO facility in Darwin would have significant strategic, economic and operational benefits. It would enhance Australia’s defence readiness, reduce its reliance on overseas maintenance services and foster closer collaboration with key regional partners. A local MRO facility would strengthen Australia’s ability to respond to threats, contribute to the security of the Indo-Pacific region and support industries that rely on uncrewed systems.

By capitalising on Darwin’s strategic location, existing infrastructure and growing importance in regional security, Australia can establish a world-class facility that meets its future needs and reinforces its role as a key player in the Indo-Pacific.

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.

The hidden risks we scroll past: the problem with TikTok—and RedNote

What if the most popular apps on our phones were quietly undermining national security? Australians often focus on visible threats, but the digital realm poses less obvious yet equally significant dangers. Yet, when it comes to the digital landscape, a blind spot remains: the hidden risks posed by platforms such as TikTok and RedNote (Xiaohongshu). These apps are more than just harmless entertainment; they’re tools in a global battle for data and influence. And we, as a society, remain largely unaware.

TikTok, RedNote and similar platforms have embedded themselves deeply into daily life. Their algorithms delight us with engaging content, fostering a sense of connection and entertainment. But this convenience comes at a cost. Few stop to question what’s behind these apps: who owns them, where our data goes, what it might say about us, and how it might be used. In fact, these platforms, owned by companies who must obey authoritarian governments, present profound risks to our privacy and national security.

Digital risks are invisible and complex and, for most, our understanding is limited. While most Australians grasp the tangible dangers of terrorism or cyberattacks, the concept of apps and data collection being weaponised for disinformation and influence campaigns feels abstract. This gap in understanding is compounded by the prioritisation of convenience over caution. Governments and experts have sounded alarms, conducted enquiries and in extreme cases implemented total bans—as seen with TikTok in the US—but their warnings often fail to resonate amid the noise of daily life. As a result, we remain unprepared for the evolving tactics of malign actors who exploit these vulnerabilities.

Platforms such as TikTok and RedNote collect vast amounts of user data—from location and device details to browsing habits. In the wrong hands, this data can be used to map social networks, identify vulnerabilities or inform targeted disinformation campaigns. Algorithms don’t just show users what they like; they also shape what users believe. Through curated content, adversaries can subtly influence societal narratives, amplify divisions or undermine trust in democratic institutions. Beyond individual users, these platforms could act as backdoors into sensitive areas, through officials’ use of them (despite rules against it) or business executives sharing trade secrets on them.

Australia must address the vulnerabilities on these apps, particularly as the nation strengthens partnerships under such initiatives as AUKUS. Demonstrating robust digital hygiene and security practices will be essential to maintaining credibility and trust among allies.

The enactment of the Protecting Americans from Foreign Adversary Controlled Applications Act has prompted an exodus of users from TikTok, driving them to seek alternative platforms—though Donald Trump has given the app’s owner some indication of a reprieve.

Many TikTok users have turned to RedNote, which has rapidly gained traction as a replacement. Unlike TikTok, which operates a US subsidiary and is banned within China, RedNote is fully Chinese-owned and operates freely within China, creating a level of commingling and data exposure that was not present with TikTok. This raises even greater concerns about privacy and national security. While banning RedNote might seem like a straightforward solution, it does not address the core issue: the lack of public awareness and education about the risks inherent in these platforms. Without understanding how their data is collected, stored, and potentially exploited, users will continue to migrate to similar platforms, perpetuating the cycle of vulnerability. This underscores the urgent need for widespread digital literacy and education.

Recent legislation aimed at protecting children from social media platforms, such as the minimum-age requirements introduced by the Australian government, is a step in the right direction. However, this approach could be endlessly repetitive: new platforms and workarounds could quickly emerge to bypass regulations. The question remains: can the government effectively manage implementation of such policies in a fast-evolving digital landscape? And if we are applying policies to protect children, what about defence force personnel using these free applications? They could inadvertently expose national-security information. A consistent, security-first approach to app usage should be considered across all demographics, especially those with access to critical data.

Governments must take the lead by implementing stricter regulations and launching public awareness campaigns. Comprehensive digital literacy programs should be as common as public-awareness campaigns on physical health or road safety, equipping Australians to recognise and mitigate digital threats. They should know where their data is stored, understand they should resist letting apps know their location, and consider potential consequences. Digital security is no longer a niche concern; it is a core component of modern citizenship.

The hidden risks we scroll past each day are not just a matter of personal privacy but of national security. As Australians, we must shift our mindset and take these threats seriously. By recognising the vulnerabilities embedded in our digital habits, we can build a more secure and resilient society. Because when it comes to national security, ignorance is no longer bliss.

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.

La La Land under siege

The devastating wildfires in California have turned the City of Stars into a scene from an apocalyptic Hollywood movie.

It’s hard to fathom that a disaster of this magnitude could strike a major coastal city today, and difficult to understand how we’re still seeing widespread destruction of homes and businesses. About 12,000 structures have been lost since the fires began on 7 January, with many more likely to follow.

Like Los Angeles, Australia’s capital cities are close to national parks and are vulnerable to bushfires. In 2003 a massive fire hit Canberra. Almost 500 houses burned down, but the city lost no critical infrastructure.

Whether that was thanks to good luck or good preparations, we need to look again at protection of major cities’ critical infrastructure against increasingly frequent and severe natural disasters.

Amid the devastation in LA, some buildings remain unscathed. These structures show the importance of preparedness and attention to disaster-resistant design and resilient building materials.

Two particular examples of resilient building design and materials that have been making headlines worldwide are in Malibu and the Pacific Palisades. Buildings there incorporate a range of wildfire-proofing measures, including fire-resistant roof materials and absence of eaves and roof vents.

Internal features include tempered glass and class-A wood, which is as ignition resistant as concrete or steel. The structures also have walls that resist flame and heat for up to one hour. Externally, sparse desert-style landscaping and concrete retaining walls provide effective setbacks.

Meanwhile, the Paul Getty Museum is an example of resilient infrastructure. It sits on a ridgeline in the Santa Monica Mountains and has withstood several wildfires, with this month’s Palisades fire coming within 1.8 metres of the eastern walls. Completed in 1997, the museum features fire-resistant landscapes, materials and systems, including a network of underground pipes connects to a one-million-gallon water tank for emergency sprinkler activation.

Built to the highest fire-resistive standards, it has exterior features including 300,000 travertine stone blocks, and roofs covered in crushed stone. Interior walls are concrete, and the building’s self-contained design includes air pressure systems to separate different areas and prevent smoke infiltration.

So far, the LA wildfires have destroyed an area of about 60 square miles (approximately 16,000 hectares), an area larger than the city of Darwin. In comparison, the Australian 2019-20 Black Summer bushfires burnt more than 16 million hectares of land, resulting in a loss of about 5900 buildings and an estimated insurance loss of $1.34 billion. The economic, social and environmental impacts are still felt.

Reinsurers in Los Angeles have indicated that they will face significant losses and will seek to recover their costs. This will have affect insurance premiums globally, and any may result in rising insurance costs and difficulties in securing coverage. According to climate-change risk analysis modelling, one in 10 properties in Australia will be uninsurable within the next decade. Meanwhile, Australia is experiencing a cost-of-living crisis, where insurance is increasingly seen as a luxury expense and is often deprioritised in favour of essential needs such as housing and groceries.

As insurance becomes unaffordable, the government should shoulder the burden of protecting infrastructure. This raises an important question: how well-prepared are our major cities’ critical and social infrastructure to withstand and respond to the increasingly frequent and severe natural disasters that climate change is driving?

50 years ago, Cyclone Tracy was, at the time, the worst natural disaster in Australian history. As reflected in ASPI’s special report Cyclone Tracy: 50 years on, the disaster played a pivotal role in the development of the National Construction Code, which established a standard to enhance resilience against natural hazards such as bushfires, floods and earthquakes. It wasn’t until 1991 that an Australian standard was set for improving the fire resistance of homes in bushfire-prone regions.

The LA wildfires have shown that natural disasters do not respect boundaries set by urban planning. Many of our major cities, including major Canberra, Sydney and Melbourne, are bordered by big national parks, making the urban edges highly vulnerable to bushfires, especially as climate change makes conditions hotter and drier.

A reform of the National Construction Code and Australian fire resistance standards are needed to ensure new infrastructure can withstand major weather events. This could be similar to the implementation of sustainability and energy-efficiency standards for new buildings. Governments at all levels can lead by example by improving the disaster resilience of their own assets.

Implementation of a government-led rebate system, similar to the Australia’s solar rebate system, is an example of how government can help offset the costs of adapting existing structures to make them more resilient.

In the short term such a reform would not only reduce the loss of structures during natural disasters; it would also cut building-lifetime energy costs. Over the long term, it would help lower the cost of insurance premiums and, importantly, reduce post-disaster recovery time.

The LA wildfires have underscored the urgent need for governments to rethink their assumptions about bushfire risk and infrastructure resilience. LA is facing a long road ahead to rebuild its infrastructure and restore essential services. Australia must take steps to avoid experiencing a similar crisis.

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.

The TikTok boomerang

Few predicted that TikTok users in the United States would flock to the Chinese app RedNote (Xiaohongshu) in defiance of a US government ban. And yet in the space of just two days this week, RedNote became the most downloaded app in the US, gaining 700,000 users—most of them American TikTok refugees.

Since US data security was the rationale for the TikTok ban, American users’ migration to other Chinese apps only amplifies those concerns. Unlike TikTok—a platform that does not operate in China and is not subject to Chinese law—RedNote is a domestic Chinese app bound by strict Chinese regulations. Moreover, while TikTok says that it stores US user data exclusively within the US, with oversight by a US-led security team, RedNote stores its data entirely in China.

In recent years, China has introduced a series of data protection laws ostensibly aimed at safeguarding user information. But these regulations primarily target businesses, imposing far fewer constraints on government access to personal data. Chinese public authorities thus have wide discretion in requesting and accessing user data.

Beyond the issue of data privacy, US authorities also worry that TikTok might be used to influence public opinion in the US. But TikTok’s algorithms are closely monitored by Oracle, as part of a deal to address security concerns. In contrast, RedNote’s algorithms operate under the close scrutiny of the Chinese government, and the app is subject to China’s stringent content-moderation requirements, which could further shape the opinions of the TikTok refugees now flocking to the platform.

Given the rationale for the law banning TikTok, it is hard to imagine RedNote escaping similar scrutiny. Now that the US Supreme Court has upheld the TikTok law, the president will have the authority to designate RedNote as a national security threat, too. But this process may quickly descend into a game of Whac-a-Mole. As US users migrate from one Chinese platform to another, regulators will find themselves locked in an endless cycle of banning Chinese apps.

As the list of banned apps grows, the US risks constructing its own Great Firewall—a mirror to the censorship strategy long employed by China. Even if Chinese apps are removed from US app stores, tech-savvy users can easily bypass such restrictions with VPNs, just as Chinese users do to access foreign platforms. That means the US government will soon confront the limits of its ability to ban Chinese apps.

Moreover, each new restriction risks fueling defiance, driving even more users toward Chinese-controlled platforms. Instead of mitigating national security concerns, this strategy may inadvertently exacerbate them, introducing the kinds of vulnerabilities that the original ban was supposed to address.

The TikTok ban thus puts the US government in a near-untenable position, which may explain why Donald Trump is reportedly weighing options to spare TikTok (despite having initiated the ban during his first term).

Yet reversing the ban carries its own risks. As legislation passed by congress, it cannot be repealed by executive order. In theory, Trump could direct law enforcement agencies not to enforce the ban; but that would have far-reaching consequences, not least by calling into question America’s commitment to the rule of law (again mirroring a charge the US has long leveled against China).

An alternative to banning TikTok is a forced divestiture of the app’s US operations, but that solution hinges on one critical factor: China’s approval. In 2020, China implemented restrictions on the export of technologies such as recommendation algorithms—the core of TikTok’s operations—effectively giving the Chinese government veto power over any potential deal.

The TikTok dilemma thus now serves as a powerful bargaining chip for China’s leaders, granting them significant leverage in their dealings with Trump, who campaigned on a promise to impose higher import tariffs on Chinese goods. Not surprisingly, he turned to Chinese President Xi Jinping for help just hours before the Supreme Court was set to weigh in on the ban.

At the same time, the TikTok saga has handed China yet another strategic gift. Friendly interaction between TikTok refugees and Chinese netizens on RedNote has created an unprecedented opportunity for cultural exchange, something China’s rulers have long aspired to but struggled to achieve.

For more than two decades, the Chinese government has aggressively tried to promote its culture and expand its influence in the US. But while it has purchased ads in Times Square and established Confucius Institutes on US university campuses, these efforts have largely failed to gain traction. Remarkably, what RedNote has achieved in just a few days seems to have eclipsed the cumulative impact of all these prior initiatives.

As I explored in my recent book, High Wire, centralised decision-making frequently results in fragile, rather than resilient, regulatory outcomes. The TikTok saga offers a stark reminder that an over-concentration of presidential power in shaping US foreign policy—particularly toward China—can lead to similar outcomes. With Trump expected to consolidate executive power, surround himself with loyalists and operate with fewer institutional constraints during his second term, this trend seems likely to intensify, generating vast unintended consequences.