Demonstrated destruction is deterrence

US and Israeli air strikes in the last month underlined the unrivalled ability of sophisticated air forces to reach and destroy sensitive targets.

The devastating attacks contrasted sharply with ineffectual Iranian and Houthi missile and drone attacks. Critically, the demonstrated power of the strikes strengthened deterrence.

Australia should pay attention as it develops strike capabilities for its strategy of deterrence by denial. The key capability implication for the ADF is the centrality of sophisticated air forces in degrading and penetrating air defences and delivering the firepower needed destroy hard targets. The critical policy insight is that a proven ability to destroy sensitive targets at will is a far more compelling deterrent than visions of future capability.

On 27 September Israel killed Hassan Nasrallah, Hezbollah’s secretary-general, as he met with senior Hezbollah leaders in a bunker buried nearly 20 metres under four high-rise buildings in southern Beirut. Israeli aircraft reportedly dropped 80 precision-guided penetrating weapons with 900kg-class warheads. The weapons were dropped at precise angles and the warheads were fuzed to detonate at specific heights to collapse the high-rise buildings and penetrate Nasrallah’s bunker. While there are questions about the strike’s proportionality, its sophistication and effectiveness are unquestioned.

On 16 October, US aircraft including two B-2A bombers destroyed five buried and hardened weapons storage locations in Houthi-controlled areas of Yemen. The mission reportedly used airspace and airbases in Australia, so the bombers flew at least 10,000km to the targets. The B-2A’s participation suggests GBU-57 Massive Ordnance Penetrators of around 13 tonnes destroyed at least some of the hardened and buried targets, as only B-2As can employ those weapons. In the words of the US defense secretary the strikes demonstrated America’s capacity to ‘target facilities that our adversaries seek to keep out of reach, no matter how deeply buried underground, hardened, or fortified … anytime, anywhere.’

Finally, in the early hours of 26 October more than 100 Israeli aircraft struck air defence, missile production and other military targets in Iran. The assault came in three waves in less than four hours and employed a variety of weapons, including air-launched ballistic missiles from Iraqi airspace. The first wave degraded Iranian air defences, including destroying Iran’s last remaining Russian-made S-300 surface-to-air missile batteries, which were its most advanced. This gave succeeding waves greater flexibility and leaves Iran vulnerable to further attacks. The strikes hit a limited number of sensitive military targets across Iran, including in the capital Tehran, to demonstrate Israel’s restraint while underscoring its ability to strike at will.

By contrast, the more than 500 Iranian missiles and drones targeting Israel in separate attacks in April and October overwhelmingly failed to reach their targets or do more than minor damage to the two Israeli airbases that they did hit. The same is true for Houthi attacks on more than 90 ships in the Red Sea over the last year, with just two ships sunk. This is not to diminish the seriousness of the threat posed by the missiles and drones or the cost exchange problem of using expensive air defence missiles to stop cheap drones. But it does serve to highlight the contrast in effectiveness, and that cost exchange perhaps should also consider the value of targets protected.

Sophisticated Israeli and US air forces, operating as integrated packages including drones and using stand-off missiles, have devastated hardened and defended targets over long range and at will in the past few weeks. Meanwhile, Iranian and Houthi missiles and drones have done little more than harass to the point of prompting retaliatory strikes that underlined their vulnerability.

The ADF should heed the relative effectiveness of these attacks as it develops strike capabilities. Investment in new surface-launched stand-off missiles should not obscure the enduring centrality of air striking forces for two reasons illustrated by events in the Middle East in the last month. First, missiles and drones alone struggle to penetrate capable air defences—especially over long ranges. They need to be integrated with broader strike packages, including crewed aircraft (for now), to reach their targets. Second, stand-in weapons carried by large aircraft remain the only way to effectively deliver the concentrated weight of firepower needed to destroy buried and hardened targets.

Finally, the Israeli and US strikes are a stark reminder that the most effective deterrent is a proven ability to devastate, not simply disrupt, targets at will.

Satcom future in doubt, industry left adrift as Defence cancels project

Secure satellite communication is a key requirement for ADF ability to undertake joint and integrated operations in a multi-domain operational environment. Known as satcom, it forms the informational backplane and foundation of modern warfare. Without this critical space support, military forces in the air, sea and land domains are deaf, dumb and blind. They cannot fight.

So it was crucial that Australia pay for secure and resilient satcom capability to replace commercial satellites that are at or close to the ends of their operational lives. Defence Joint Project 9102 (JP9102) was to be based initially on three to five communications satellites in geosynchronous orbit (GEO) at 36,500km above Earth’s surface. It was to offer nationally independent satcom for the ADF.

On 4 November, the government scrapped JP9102. The move has generated uncertainty about the future of a critical ADF capability. There is also anger in the Australian commercial space community over the negative signals the decision sends about government support for the space sector.

The government justified cancelling JP9102 thus:

…with the acceleration in space technologies and evolving threats in space since the project’s commencement, Defence has assessed that a single orbit GEO-based satellite communications systems would not meet strategic priorities …. As such, Defence has decided to cease its current procurement activity with Lockheed Martin Australia for a single orbit GEO-based satellite communications system …. Instead of a single orbit solution, Defence must instead prioritise a multi-orbit capability increasing resilience for the Australian Defence Force.

Certainly, relying on satellites in a single, geostationary orbit is no longer enough for the ADF. Yet the decision to cancel JP9102 can be challenged. For example, why did the government simply did not rescope the project to bring forward acquisition of low earth orbit (LEO) and medium earth orbit (MEO) satellites, thus opening greater opportunities for Australia’s commercial space sector to participate? This could have occurred in a timely manner would complement Lockheed Martin’s delivery of the three to five GEO satellites under the original contract.

As it now stands, Defence has indicated that its strategy going forward is to continue to rely on existing architecture. The Defence Department statement says ‘… Defence’s current satellite communications capabilities support the immediate needs of the organisation.’

But there is risk in this, because the existing satellites are expiring. Defence notes that the ADF uses a hosted ‘…payload on an Optus C-1 satellite, ultra-high frequency channels on Intelsat IS-22, a commercial satellite; and proportional access to the US Space Force’s Wideband Global SATCOM system (WGS) network, which Australia gained by paying for WGS-6’, one of the satellites in the system.

Defence indicates that Optus C-1 will reach the end of its life in 2027—that is, in three years. The satellite has already had its life extended and has had its GEO orbit altered to extend it further. But it wanders in its position, so it isn’t very useful for anything other than naval forces. The authoritative source Gunter’s Space Page also notes that IS-22, launched in 2012, is designed to serve for 18 years, so it will expire in 2030. WGS-6, launched in 2013, is designed for 14 years, so it will reach the end of its service life in 2027.

The WGS constellation is being replaced by more sophisticated versions of these satellites in a program called Protected Tactical Satcom (PTS). If Australia wants access to PTS services, it will again need to pay the United States somehow. As with WGS, it would run the risk that the US would take bandwidth priority in a crisis.

PTS satellites are due to be launched between 2028 and 2029, just as Australia will lose its current GEO satcom services. So, any delay by government in deciding on what will replace JP9102—be it in LEO or indeed using several orbits—will present the risk of a capability gap emerging. Sticking with JP9102 as it was, and introducing LEO and MEO components together would have avoided the risk and preserved Australian control over a critical capability.

With the cancellation of JP9102, the government must quickly declare its new plan. Simply stating that Australia will ‘continue to rely on existing satellite communications’ isn’t good enough when that capability won’t last long and when getting results from a new project will take years.

The government cannot kick this can down the road to the 2026 National Defence Strategy and its associated spending plan, the Integrated Investment Program. There simply isn’t time. The project will need to be declared and go out for tenders, then any bids must then be reviewed, a prime contractor chosen and adequate funding provided before the satellites can be made and, finally, launched.

Ideally, Australian companies should be allowed to compete. But the way that JP9102 has been handled by government—following last year’s cancellation of the civilian project National Space Mission for Earth Observation—hardly inspires confidence in government commitment to the Australian commercial space sector.

That’s the biggest disappointment in the cancellation of JP9102.

Boeing’s woes and the state of the US defence industry

Boeing is one of the Pentagon’s biggest contractors and therefore a heavyweight supplier for US allies. So its alarming financial condition is much more than investment news.

The company has got itself into loss-making defence programs by overestimating the potential for production profits to cover research-and-development losses. Expect it to be wary in future.

Meanwhile, the other two big US military aircraft builders, Lockheed Martin and Northrop Grumman, look more interested in defending current business, such as the F-35 (Joint Strike Fighter) and B-21 programs, than moving on new and riskier ones.

Boeing’s Defense & Space division on 23 October posted a US$5.5 billion loss for the third quarter of 2024. Most of the drag came from write-offs of future losses on current programs, mainly the T-7A Redhawk trainer and the KC-46 Pegasus tanker. And the company’s civil division, which makes airliners, has its own enormous problems.

Boeing’s profit estimate at completion (EAC) for the KC-47 and T-7 programs is negative. Quite likely, the MQ-25 carrier-based tanker drone and VC-25B presidential transport programs are no longer expected to make money, either.

‘Our EAC process needs to get better,’ CEO Kelly Ortberg said. Advisedly so: after bidding low to get the tanker job, Boeing tried to save money by building the basic airframe at its civil plant at Everett, Washington, rather than setting up a military line in Wichita, which was needed.

Boeing’s rock-bottom bid on the T-7 was influenced by its partnership with Sweden’s Saab, which offered new and cheaper process. But as far back as 2019, Saab people were quietly saying that Boeing didn’t seem to understand those processes.

In 2018, Boeing agreed with then president Donald Trump to cut costs of the two new presidential aircraft by adapting surplus 747-8 airliners it had already built. An independent VIP conversion specialist, GDC Technics, was supposed to convert them, but it went bust and Boeing had to take the work in-house.

As well as being stuck with loss-making aircraft projects, Boeing Defence and Space is under pressure from SpaceX and other newcomers in the space industry.

The result is that the division is losing money, hard to sell, and hard to grow. One analyst asked Ortberg about ‘the potential of just exiting some programs or some contracts where you’ve got absolutely no path to profitability’. Not viable, Ortberg said. ‘These are our core customers that need this capability. We’ve got long-term commitments.’

Well, that, at least, was reassurance the Pentagon wanted to hear.

But are things better in the rest of the US industry? Its structure was established by the Last Supper, the 1993 meeting where deputy defence secretary Bill Perry advised bosses of aerospace prime contractors who still considered their businesses viable to look to their left and their right, ‘because one of you will be out of business in five years.’

It triggered a wave of mergers and acquisitions.

But from the end of 1996, when JSF program kicked off, there was a long drought of major combat aircraft programs (imagine no new projects between the P-80 of 1944 and the F-111 of 1967), because of the Pentagon’s focus on counter-insurgent war in the Middle East.

Next, the Pentagon focused on squeezing the industry on initial acquisition cost, through projects such as Better Buying Power.

Finally, we saw the shift of business emphasis towards maximising shareholder value. What is good for that is cash profit. What is less good is low- or negative-margin research and development, and what is even worse is spending money competing for programs that you don’t win or might win only to see them cancelled or delayed.

For US defence prime contractors today, the path to prosperity is to defend your existing programs and the future support business that goes with them. With few new starts for suppliers to bid on, the primes can demand lower prices from them by threatening to look elsewhere. They can squeeze suppliers until the pips squeak, raiding them for their best-performing people, and then complaining about late deliveries and quality problems.

New programs? Well there is one for fighter-like drones, the Collaborative Combat Aircraft (CCA), but it doesn’t look anything like the sort of big-money effort that the air force’s stalled Next Generation Air Dominance (NGAD) was supposed to be, fielding a so-called sixth-generation fighter.

 

Lockheed Martin CEO Jim Taiclet could have been more enthusiastic about prospects. At Lockheed Martin’s earnings call, he said, ‘We have to be able to meet the J-20 with enough numbers in the Pacific. F-35 and F-22 now are the only really competitive jets against the J-20, one to one. We have to field enough of those aircraft in a short enough timeframe to maintain an effective deterrent in the Pacific. We need to be able to bring autonomy in the Collaborative Combat Aircraft concept into fifth gen—and sixth gen, if there is one.’

If there is one?

Northrop Grumman CEO Kathy Warden had a similar message when an analyst asked, ‘With the Air Force reevaluating at least the manned part of NGAD, could that free up to get your funding for the Air Force to get to that desired B-21 inventory of 150 units?’

Warden responded, ‘I think that’s exactly what the air force is looking at. They are undertaking a force structure design review, and we know that B-21 is in the mix.’

There’s common sense to this approach. The walls are going up around the major programs, and the case is being made that the CCA or other capabilities can augment them but cannot be allowed to replace them.

And if any money is freed up by postponing a new generation of fighters, Taiclet and Warden will happily take it. (And don’t forget that Northrop Grumman has a very large stake in F-35.) They’re betting, not unreasonably, that CCA money going to other, smaller aircraft suppliers will not come out of their pockets.

To get the Global South on board with sanctions, understand its priorities

As Western policymakers seek to implement financial and trade sanctions on Russia, one thing is clear: engaging with the Global South is essential.

Without fostering dialogue and building trust through consistent engagement, sanctions become less effective. As things stand, many Global South countries are just not complying.

The reasons for non-compliance are complex. They include longstanding historic relationships, maintaining strategic autonomy, domestic challenges from the Covid-19 pandemic and climate change, and economic disruption from the Russia-Ukraine war. These priorities can outweigh concerns about secondary sanctions applied on non-compliers. Yet, they remain poorly understood by Western policymakers, and consequently unaddressed.

As a result, growing ties between Russia and the Global South and their effect on Western sanctions remain overlooked.

Russia has recognised this divergence between the West and the Global South and is attempting to exploit it. It is expanding economic and diplomatic relations with the Global South and working to mitigate effects of Western sanctions. Russia has adopted this strategy before, following the annexation in Crimea.

In Africa, for example, it is exploiting rising economic opportunities and anti-Western sentiment to expand its influence, in part with arms exports. In 2019 to 2023, Russia was the largest arms exporter to sub-Saharan Africa. Its partnerships in the region also extend to energy exports, help with regime security in return for natural resources, and cooperation in information security and fighting terrorism.

Russia encourages Global South countries to use currencies other than the US dollar in oil transactions, so they can to some extent insulate themselves from secondary sanctions. Recent examples include the use of the UAE dirham and the Russian rouble for sales of Russian oil to India and China, respectively. Furthermore, discussions in the 16th BRICS summit in Kazan, Russia, also reignited debates on alternatives to dollar-dominated oil payments. Among them was creating cross-border payment systems to promote local-currency financial transactions between BRICS.

Moreover, Russia is deepening ties with other sanctioned states, such as North Korea and Iran. Imposition of sweeping restrictions on Russia has led it to seek alternatives for supporting its military-industry complex. It has acquired military equipment from North Korea and one-way attack drones from Iran, and supplied oil to North Korea in direct violation of UN Security Council resolutions.

Russia’s growing relationship with North Korea is a particular worry for the world, but not a prominent one for the Global South. Yet some Global South countries risk hosting activities from financial transactions or even supplying dual-use materials that Russia could trade with North Korea.

This is where Western policymakers can intervene. Developing countries would not want to violate UN Security Council sanctions and facilitate the development of weapons of mass destruction. The West can help with capacity-building programmes to strengthen public and private capacity in adhering to international obligations and disrupting evasion.

The West still has strong diplomatic ties with the Global South, providing an opportunity to initiate dialogue and establish a shared understanding of issues. Multilateral platforms such as the G20 serve as forums for promoting collaboration, where the Global South actively participates.

The West should also consider Russia’s limitations in boosting its relations with the Global South. Its ability to maintain long-term support in Africa is debatable. Low attendance at the Russia-Africa summit held in St Petersburg in 2023 suggests its influence has no deep roots. The West cannot take this for granted, however. It must work to displace Russian influence, and in doing so needs to understand and respond to African countries’ priorities.

Finally, the West must focus on bolstering the confidence of Russia’s trading partners to resist de-dollarisation. This could include providing assessment reports and briefing policymakers and business stakeholders of the Global South on the political compromises and economic risks associated with decoupling from the US dollar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How and why Russia is conducting sabotage and hybrid-war offensive

Across Europe, we’re seeing more confirmed or suspected instances of Russian sabotage. It is part of a broader hybrid war campaign against NATO countries, aimed at eroding support for Ukraine and damaging Western cohesion.

In the US, Russia is refraining from sabotage, but it’s working hard on disinformation.

The head of MI5 warned in October that agents of Russia’s military intelligence agency, the GRU, had conducted arson attacks, sabotage and other dangerous actions ‘with increasing recklessness’. His MI6 counterpart said Russian intelligence services had gone ‘a bit feral’.

The chiefs of Germany’s three intelligence branches echoed these concerns, reporting a ‘quantitative and qualitative’ increase in acts of Russian-sponsored espionage and sabotage in their country. On 22 October, Poland announced it would close the Russian consulate in Poznan due to alleged sabotage attempts.

Russia has conducted arson attacks in Poland, Germany, Lithuania, Latvia and Czechia. Other reported sabotage attempts include flying drones over Stockholm airport, jamming of Baltic countries’ civil aviation GPS systems and disruption of French railways on the first day of the Paris Olympics. Facilities linked to supplying Ukraine have also been targeted: a BAE Systems munitions facility in Wales, an air-defence company’s factory in Berlin and a Ukrainian-owned logistics firm in London.

Authorities have arrested suspects for plots to bomb or sabotage a military base in Bavaria and a French facility supporting Ukraine’s war efforts. Agencies disrupted a plot to assassinate the CEO of German arms maker Rheinmetall, a supplier of artillery shells to Ukraine. Latvian authorities tracked down saboteurs dispatched to several countries on paid missions. Norway’s domestic intelligence service warns of the threat of sabotage to train lines and to gas facilities supplying much of Europe.

This upsurge in sabotage activity is a rebound from initial setbacks that Russian intelligence suffered in the 2022 invasion of Ukraine. Its assessment of likely Ukrainian resistance and Western unity was lacking, affecting its ability to analyse and influence those factors. Some 750 Russians with diplomatic cover were expelled from Russian embassies and consulates across Europe, mostly spies.

Russia’s intelligence and security services rapidly regrouped. They have since managed to build new illegal networks and recruit criminals and other proxies through the dark web or social media platforms such as Telegram.

Sabotage operations are part of its larger hybrid war campaign. This is designed to cause fear and division in order to undermine support for Ukraine without going so far as provoking war. Russian hybrid warfare encompasses several tactics, most notably cyberattacks and disinformation campaigns.

Another grey-zone tactic is weaponising immigration. Russian authorities direct migrants into neighbouring European countries without proper documentation, instructing them to claim asylum there. The aim is to destabilise those neighbours. European officials reported Russian plans to set up a 15,000-strong force comprising former militias in Libya to control the flow of migrants. Migration routes through Libya link to other places with Russian military or paramilitary presence, notably through Central African Republic and Sudan, as well as Mali, Burkina Faso and Niger.

Fostering irregular migration further supports right-wing European parties which oppose immigration and European integration and which Russia funds. These include AfD in Germany, National Rally in France and Reform UK, which all gained in recent elections and are mostly Russia-friendly and critical of support for Ukraine.

So far, Russia has refrained from sabotage in the US, although European officials have warned that uncovered plots to plant incendiary devices on planes in Europe could be test runs for similar plans in the US. Russian disinformation efforts in the US have stepped up since 2022 and expanded during the presidential election campaign. Donald Trump’s and MAGA Republicans’ reluctance to support Ukraine makes Trump the clearly preferred candidate of Russia.

In the aftermath of hurricanes Milton and Helene in the US, Russia-affiliated social media accounts pushed fake narratives claiming the Biden administration’s response had been incompetent, reflecting wider government failures and prioritisation of resources to Ukraine over domestic needs. The Justice Department has indicted two employees of Kremlin media propaganda arm RT for paying US$10 million to a media company in Tennessee to spread disinformation.

Anti-US campaigns are also active in developing countries. Some aim to discredit US-funded anti-malaria programs in Africa.

Western leaders have been reluctant to call for a more vigorous response to Russian sabotage, probably out of fear of escalation. Some media reports even suggest that fears of retaliatory sabotage actions, such as attacks on US bases, have fed into US reluctance to lift restrictions on Ukraine’s use of long-range missiles.

The West is running out of non-military options for response, since it is already imposing extensive economic and diplomatic sanctions against Moscow and has limited capacity or opportunity to retaliate in kind inside Russia. Still, a more strenuous response by Western governments is needed.

Former Finnish president Sauli Niinisto has suggested that the EU needs its own pan-European intelligence agency to help countries fend off threats, saboteurs and espionage. At the very least, the US and Europe should respond to Russian hybrid warfare by removing the shackles from Ukraine, allowing it to repel the Russian invaders from its territory.

From the bookshelf: ‘Engaging North Korea’

North Korea is again in the global spotlight. By providing first munitions and now troops to support Russia, the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea has expanded the scope of the Ukraine conflict while driving its relations with the West to a new low. And, by aligning with Russia, sidelining long-time patron China and abandoning its goal of unification with South Korea, North Korea has escalated tensions in Northeast Asia.

The last time the hermit kingdom was this visible was in June 2018, when its leader, Kim Jong Un, met US president Donald Trump at a summit held in Singapore amid cautious optimism that North Korea might gradually open up to the West. But in a follow-up summit in Hanoi in 2019, the gaping differences between the two parties became clear and negotiations collapsed.

The Biden administration adopted a wait-and-see policy, paying little attention to North Korea. Most foreign missions in Pyongyang closed during the Covid-19 pandemic and have not reopened.

In 2022, however, Russia’s war of aggression on Ukraine dealt the North Korea a fresh hand. With rapidly depleting military resources, Moscow turned to Pyongyang, which in 2023 began exporting artillery shells and weapons to Russia, in return receiving much-needed food, raw materials and weapons parts.

In January this year, Pyongyang relinquished its constitutional commitment to Korean unification and said it would consider the South to be its principal enemy. To underline the shift, in October North Korea blew up parts of two roads connecting it to the South. Munitions exports to Russia have accelerated, and now Pyongyang has sent troops to fight for Russia in Ukraine.

In Engaging North Korea, 12 international experts put their heads together to review experience in relations with North Korea and provide pointers on how to deal with it in the future. The contributors include leading Korea experts from Japan, Singapore, South Korea, the US and Vietnam, a director of humanitarian aid and a Swedish diplomatic envoy. The two last-mentioned have hands-on experience working inside North Korea.

The authors start from the widely divergent interests behind the six-party talks, which sought to address North Korea’s nuclear program and broke down in 2009. The United States, Japan and South Korea want denuclearization, North Korea wants to keep its nuclear capabilities and have economic sanctions lifted, while China and North Korea have a special relationship based on inter-party cooperation. Japan must also deal with the domestically sensitive issue of citizens abducted by North Korean agents. The sixth party in the talks was Russia.

Singaporean and Vietnamese viewpoints are also discussed in the book, as either country may be called on to facilitate future negotiations. Should the North Korea ever consider opening its economy, Vietnam might serve as a model. With the world focusing on geopolitics, the authors remind us of North Korea’s deep humanitarian crisis. Given the range of interlinked issues, the book highlights the need to deal with North Kora comprehensively rather than piecemeal.

A fascinating chapter reviews the special role played by Sweden in keeping the door to North Korea ajar, though sometimes only minimally. It was the first Western country to recognise North Korea, in 1973. In 1975 it set up an embassy that it has kept open, although since the Covid-19 outbreak staffed entirely with North Korean nationals.

In the early 1990s, after a change of government, Stockholm was about to shut its embassy when the US asked it to represent it as a diplomatic protecting power—a representative. Washington lacked official relations with Pyongyang and wanted Sweden to serve as a neutral go-between. Sweden kept the embassy open and now serves as the protecting power for Australia, Canada, Germany and the US. It also  represents several other countries in consular matters.

Engaging with North Korea is a daunting task but one that is essential for world peace. The authors liken it to the Sisyphean challenge of repeatedly pushing a boulder up a hill only to have it roll down again, but they consider the chances of success greater if countries work ‘collectively, patiently and purposefully’. They propose doing this through informal working groups rather than showy summits. However, North Korea’s recent policy shifts make even this unlikely, at least in the short term.

Its playbook consists of bluster, threats and unpredictability, which its leaders have used ruthlessly to gain strategic advantage. However, behind the enigmatic facade there is a method, usually opportunistic, to North Korea’s unpredictability.

Frustrated at being ignored by the Biden administration, North Korea predictably undertook missile launches in September and October in the run-up to the US presidential elections. We should remember that its warming relations with Russia are transactional and do not change the reality that China is North Korea’s closest neighbour and only major trading partner.

With North Korea sending soldiers to support Russia and with tensions on the Korean Peninsula at a new high, the search is on for fresh ways to deal with the hermit kingdom. Engaging North Korea is essential reading for diplomats and security specialists, especially those handling Northeast Asia and Russia’s war on Ukraine.

Celebrating 10 years of ASPI’s Women in Defence and Security Network

When Hayley Channer and Nicole Seils attended a defence-related event in Canberra in 2014, they realised they were two of only a handful of women in the room. Stranger still, they had not known each other before that evening.

That meeting between an ASPI analyst and the then head of government relations at Lockheed Martin Australia sparked the idea for ASPI’s Women in Defence and Security Network. Later supported by another ASPI analyst, Natalie Sambhi, their aim was to create a forum for women across defence, national security, government, industry and civil society to connect, build their networks, and mentor and support each other on the difficult path towards changing the status quo.

A decade on, ASPI last month hosted a gala dinner for 150 guests to celebrate the 10-year anniversary of the WDSN. Much of the discussion and sage advice shared during the evening reflected on key points from Elizabeth Cosson’s inaugural speech when WDSN was launched: the value of good leadership; authenticity; the willingness to listen; the importance of giving yourself the time and space to think and reflect; and the courage to take a chance.

The women leaders who spoke at the dinner—Catherine Burn from ASIS, Michelle Chan from the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade, Hayley Channer from the United States Studies Centre, Stephanie Copus Campbell Australia’s Ambassador for Gender Equality, and Jessica Hunter from the Australian Signals Directorate—shared hard-earned insights with the audience. Each has paved a way for women in their fields.

WDSN has been fulfilling the mission that the three founders set for it—spotlighting women’s impact in national security, creating opportunities for women and men to gather and talk about their journeys and achievements, and the challenges of navigating this traditionally male-dominated field.

The network has hosted networking and speed mentoring events, panel discussions, roundtables, podcasts and professional development workshops. These have traversed themes of gender, peace and security, women in the Australian Defence Force and defence industry, counterterrorism and intelligence, human rights and international law. They have engaged women and girls from students and early-to-mid-career professionals to senior leaders, as well as male champions and allies.

Both the 2016 Defence White Paper and DFAT’s Gender Equality and Women’s Empowerment Strategy recognised that gender equality and increasing female participation in defence and leadership roles were vital to Australia’s defence capability, national security, foreign policy, diplomacy and development programs. Studies have proven that the private sector also benefits enormously from women’s participation.

Since its creation, the WDSN has grown to more than 3500 subscribers—and it is still growing. The gala was a chance to reflect on the progress, while acknowledging the work to be done to ensure that inequalities and challenges arising from the intersection of gender with other aspects of people’s identities continue to be addressed so that all women and people of diverse backgrounds can advance their careers.

A theme that stood out was the tendency for women not to pursue opportunities because they felt they were not ready, reflecting a lack of confidence that statistics show is less common in men. Panellists spoke about the need to raise awareness of unconscious biases in hiring managers, employers and colleagues. With retention of women and people of diverse backgrounds an ongoing challenge, it is vital to cultivate work environments that are attractive and inclusive to ensure everyone’s continued and meaningful participation.

The panellists discussed the ways that girls were socialised from a young age to be more risk-averse than boys. Unlearning these lessons can be a challenging experience that also highlights the importance of taking the time to explore your passions.

They advocated a ‘curious not furious’ mindset—one panellist citing the hit show Ted Lasso—to understand the viewpoint and behaviour of others, and to understand our own passions, ambitions and frustrations. That said, rage and frustration at obstacles can be a ‘fuel that never runs out’, provided it is channelled into positive action. ‘Watering your garden with humour’ was one way to offset frustrations and serve as a pressure valve.

We find inspiration in all sorts of places, including TV shows and movies about law enforcement and intelligence. As the audience heard, the only difference between a dream and a goal is having a plan.

The panellists and audience members shared their faith in the importance of tending to yourself. While empathy for others is indispensable, you still need to ‘put the oxygen mask on yourself first’.

The dinner was a celebration of a decade’s effort to create a space to share, connect and support one another. The difference this time, compared to 10 years ago, was that nobody was alone. From three came 150.

China’s fishy behaviour demands a rethink on Southern Ocean

A new element of strategic competition is emerging in the Southern Ocean—in Australia’s backyard—in the form of Beijing’s push to control and exploit fisheries. The situation demands that we bolster capability while also cultivating consensus on the need to revise agreements to match the strategic realities of today.

Last week, the 43rd meeting of the Commission for the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources (CCAMLR) failed to establish either new fisheries agreements, or new protected marine zones in the Southern Ocean. CCAMLR hasn’t established a new marine conservation area since 2016. Worse, the meeting failed even to renew management agreements already in place.

CCAMLR was established in 1982 with an objective to conserve Antarctic and Southern Ocean marine life. It isa central component of the Antarctic Treaty system. Australia proudly publicises its role, beyond hosting the CCAMLR secretariat, as chasing the ‘important related goal [of enhancing] Australia’s influence in the Antarctic Treaty system [and maintaining] Australia’s reputation as a responsible manager of marine resources’.

But with food security a rising strategic priority for Beijing, it is looking to more fully exploit the waters of the Southern Ocean. Recent court rulings in China underscore the central role so-called ‘distant water fisheries’ (DWF) have in Beijing’s long-term security strategy. Earlier this year, China’s highest court awarded subsidies to one DWF enterprise ‘on the grounds that fishing in international waters is a strategic national priority’.

Krill is at the heart of a resource race in the Southern Ocean. The tiny, shrimp-like crustaceans are foundational to Antarctic and Southern Ocean marine life, and indeed are a key component of the global food chain. In recent years, the economic value of krill has been (re)discovered thanks to the boom in the global health supplement sector.

China has the largest distant water fishing fleet on earth. According to its own 2022 white paper on the Development of Distant Water Fisheries, China has 177 approved enterprises and 2551 vessels in the DWF sector operating on the high seas around the world. And that’s just what Beijing tells us about.

China is also working to popularise the notion of ‘sustainable use’ of fishery resources. Deployment of research vessels to map resource deposits is normalised daily business, often branded as an activity to help understand any protective requirements of the Southern Ocean. Untangling the strategies of resource use from efforts of resource protection is onerous.

Significantly, last week’s CCAMLR meeting was the first since Beijing inked new laws for China’s Coast Guard (CCG). Revisions to CCG law came into effect in June 2024, including new powers to arrest and detain foreigners undertaking ‘illegal violation in waters under China’s jurisdiction’ for up to 60 days without trial. But strikingly it does not define waters under China’s jurisdiction. Would the Southern Ocean fall under the expanded notion of CCG jurisdiction as part of China’s ‘national security interests’?

Furthermore, CCG law supports the creation of ‘temporary maritime security zones’ for its military’s use of the sea. Relevant to recent CCAMLR developments, it codifies Beijing’s intent to protect ‘important fishery waters’ and ‘fishery production operations’.

For decades, China has worked to lay foundations—indeed its own definitions of precedents—for its claims in the South China Sea. The potential for China to apply its CCG law to the Southern Ocean is obvious.

When it comes to international cooperation, we can blame certain states for frustrating consensus, but this does not mean we should walk away from such bodies as CCAMLR. There is merit in engaging even for performative reasons—that is, showing up and looking interested—as many other states do, so long as we are building our capacity to defend and deter with credible naval presence in the background. Or perhaps more aptly for maritime capability stretched Australia—pooling our kit with like-minded states.

Beijing is deliberately blurring the lines between using and protecting living resources in the Southern Ocean. It is consistently vetoing or blocking new marine protection efforts in CCAMLR by stating it needs to undertake more research. Want to protect a stretch of the Southern Ocean? Beijing needs to see or undertake scientific research supporting the call for protection.

Then there are questions as to the identity of personnel on China’s super-trawlers already active in the Southern Ocean. While we know China’s Coast Guard is mandated to protect these assets and their operations, could these fishermen also don military uniforms to execute the Chinese Communist Party’s strategic endeavours? This is surely not implausible.

Consensus bodies like CCAMLR are failing because international dynamics have evolved beyond the 1980s when they were established. Therefore our thinking must also evolve. Considering our AUKUS partners share a litany of strategic interests in the Southern Ocean, perhaps it is time to plan a ‘polar pillar’ for AUKUS. This could deliver technological enhancements from next-gen extreme-weather remote sensors to unmanned aerial vehicles and, of course, enhanced geospatial intelligence cooperation. Hopefully we can get creative and have some viable solutions to act on before the China’s first ‘temporary maritime security zone’ pops up in the Southern Ocean.

A new risk on the horizon: organised criminals as mercenaries of disinformation

At a time when controlling the narrative is power, are organised crime groups acting as mercenaries of disinformation, using their skills to manipulate minds for profit? A recent Australian Federal Police (AFP) operation suggests an intersection is forming between crime, disinformation and technological exploitation.

Last month, the AFP arrested six members of a Sydney-based criminal syndicate implicated in drug importation as part of Operation Kraken. The operation targeted Ghost, an encrypted messaging app designed for illicit communications. It played a crucial role in the syndicate’s activities, used to send more than 125,000 criminal messages.

What makes this case particularly interesting is that one senior member of the syndicate allegedly orchestrated a disinformation campaign. This involved fabrication of a terror attack, a false narrative aimed at perverting the course of justice and diverting law enforcement resources.

Criminal groups are known to exploit social and technological developments for profit. Cybercriminals in Europe are already engaging in disinformation as a service for customers. AFP and criminal intelligence organisations should be wary of that happening in Australia.

Further, criminal organisations are now selling services to both state and non-state actors.

In Myanmar, for instance, ethnic armed groups have increasingly relied on drug production to finance their operations. By partnering with organised crime syndicates, they monetise their control over territory, granting protection and resource access in exchange for a share of the profits. This not only perpetuates the cycle of violence and instability but also entrenches the drug trade within these communities, as they become reliant on revenue generated from opium and methamphetamine production.

So we see a complex interplay of local power dynamics and organised crime.

For many years, criminal groups have offered money laundering as a service, creating a new dimension in financial crime. They provide tailored solutions for individuals, businesses and even governments aiming to obscure origins of illicit funds. The criminals charge for their expertise in navigating complex financial systems. A notable example is the case of the Panama Papers, which exposed how many high-profile individuals and corporations used offshore shell companies in jurisdictions such as Panama to launder money and evade taxes.

Criminal groups also offer hacking services on a subscription basis, enabling clients—ranging from individuals and groups to state entities—to breach security systems, steal sensitive data or deploy ransomware. This trend allows customers with limited technical skills to engage in sophisticated attacks, effectively broadening the reach of both state and non-state actors.

For instance, Eastern European cybercriminals have been linked to the proliferation of bot farms, which are used to automate attacks and disseminate disinformation at scale, amplifying the impact. By providing these illicit services, hackers create immunity for their customers, who become difficult to trace and prosecute or, in the case of rogue states, hold accountable.

There is a reasonable assessment that the demand for disinformation services is growing among state and non-state actors, reflecting a shift in how information is weaponised for strategic advantage. As geopolitical tensions rise and digital platforms proliferate, various groups—from rogue states to organised crime syndicates—are increasingly turning to disinformation as a tool for manipulation and control. This can range from spreading false narratives to create confusion and distract law enforcement, to launching smear campaigns to discredit adversaries.

If this demand evolves disinformation from a tool of deception into a service available for hire, Australian law enforcement will face complex new challenges. The intertwining of disinformation with organised crime complicates the national security landscape.

Australia must evaluate whether existing legislation is sufficient to address the commodification of disinformation. The Operation Kraken case should prompt further investigation into intelligence surrounding criminal fee-for-service disinformation schemes. A coordinated approach involving law enforcement and intelligence agencies is essential to counter the threat.