The West’s undermining of democracy

With great-power rivalries again at the centre of international relations, democratic governments have been relying on secret statecraft to shape or sway regimes in weaker states, including by supporting or aiding regime change. Far from advancing democracy globally, these efforts are exacerbating its vulnerabilities at a time when authoritarianism is on the rise.

To be sure, local militaries—with or without external backing—remain the leading drivers of regime change. In Pakistan, for example, the military reasserted its traditional dominance over government in 2022, when it engineered the ouster of Prime Minister Imran Khan. In Bangladesh, the military recently took advantage of a violent student-led uprising to compel Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina to flee the country, before installing an interim civilian-led administration headed by Nobel laureate Muhammad Yunus.

But external powers also often play a key role in driving regime change. Yes, the mechanisms remain murky. Since strategic skullduggery rarely leaves any political fingerprints, intervening powers can plausibly deny involvement, leaving independent analysts struggling to distinguish fact from fiction.

Nonetheless, it is usually fairly easy to see where an external power gets its leverage. China, for example, is the world’s largest trading economy and official creditor for developing countries. While the details of China’s loan agreements are far from transparent, there is no doubt that it attaches many strings to its funding, which increase its leverage over borrowers, possibly even driving them into sovereignty-eroding debt traps.

The United States, for its part, dominates the international financial architecture, enjoys considerable leverage over traditional lenders like the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund, and issues the world’s main reserve currency. With these levers, it has significant power to reward or punish countries, including by imposing painful economic sanctions.

The US has long been accused of—and sometimes admitted to—helping to topple or prop up foreign regimes, including by meddling in elections or aiding uprisings, such as the ‘colour revolutions’ in some post-Soviet states. Some have even alleged that the US played a role in the recent overthrow of Khan in Pakistan and Hasina in Bangladesh, though US officials have denied any involvement.

The question is what a democracy like the US hopes to achieve by contributing to regime change. The answer cannot be lasting democratic breakthroughs, which rarely arrive in the wake of popular uprisings. Instead, countries are likely to face political instability, social disorder, and economic disruption. That is certainly the case in Bangladesh, which is now facing chaos and violence, with mobs burning down factories, hospitals, hotels, and homes.

A more likely explanation—for which there is ample evidence—is that Western powers are seeking to advance their own geopolitical and economic interests by supporting ‘friendly’ regimes and driving out ‘unfriendly’ ones. The regimes’ democratic credentials (or lack thereof) seem to matter little here, though Western powers do prefer that there is a pretence of democracy.

This helps to explain why military takeovers are often followed by elections or the installation, as in Bangladesh, of a government with a civilian face: military leaders hope to bolster the new government’s international legitimacy and, in many cases, retain access to Western financial assistance. After all, the US is legally required to cut off aid to a country after a coup. After the military junta returned to power in Myanmar in 2021, US President Joe Biden’s administration imposed stringent sanctions on the country and, later, began providing non-lethal aid to anti-junta forces.

But US leaders take great care in deciding which military takeovers to label as ‘coups.’ Of the more than two dozen military coups or indirect takeovers that have taken place in the last 15 years, the US refrained from condemning about half, because it considered the regime change favourable to its regional interests. In this sense, the US has often sacrificed democracy at the altar of geopolitics.

Elections alone—even if competitive—do not guarantee popular empowerment or adherence to constitutional rules, especially when the military holds decisive power. While the international community might view a civilian-led government positively—even if it is merely a facade for continued military control—domestic legitimacy may well be lacking, even when the coup-makers shed their uniforms and rebrand themselves ‘civilian’ leaders, as the Thai army chief did after seizing power in 2014. He remained in office as the country’s ‘civilian’ prime minister for nine years.

Democracy is in retreat globally. Many populations are facing the erosion of their political rights and civil liberties. Even the world’s leading democracies are suffering from low public trust in governments and bitterly polarized politics. And closed autocracies now outnumber liberal democracies. By accepting or tolerating military rule—even behind a civilian facade—Western powers will only accelerate this trend.

Sports diplomacy: a potent weapon in the Pacific against China’s coercive grasp

Hindering China’s influence in the Pacific islands should become a key goal in the forthcoming update to Australia’s sports diplomacy strategy.

As China’s coercive influence tightens around the Pacific islands, Australia finds itself in a high-stakes contest for regional influence. Beijing’s aggressive tactics, including debt-trap diplomacy, opaque security agreements and the erosion of democratic values, threaten to destabilise the region and undermine Australia’s strategic interests.

While traditional diplomatic tools have their place, sports diplomacy can be a potent weapon in Australia’s arsenal to counter China’s coercive influence and strengthen ties with Pacific Island nations.

The strategic significance of Pacific island nations to Australia cannot be overstated. They are not merely neighbours; they could be Australia’s front line. China’s growing presence in the region, exemplified by the April 2022 security pact with the Solomon Islands, poses a direct challenge to Australia’s security interests.

Australia’s response to China’s growing assertiveness has been largely reactive and focused on traditional diplomatic tools and aid programs. However, these measures are proving increasingly inadequate.

Sports diplomacy, the use of sports to influence diplomatic relations, offers a compelling solution.

The power of sports diplomacy to transcend political tensions was exemplified by the cricket diplomacy between India and Pakistan in the early 2000s. Following the 1999 Kargil War, cricket matches between the two nations acted as a catalyst for dialogue and de-escalation. The series of matches, held in both countries, generated immense goodwill and created a platform for political leaders to engage in discussions on a range of issues. This diplomatic breakthrough, initiated by a shared passion for cricket, ultimately led to a ceasefire and a renewed commitment to peace talks.

China’s sports diplomacy is characterised by stadium construction and events sponsorship. These grand gestures and monetary incentives often lack the authenticity and personal connection that underpin successful sports diplomacy. So, it struggles to replicate Australia’s successes in supporting Pacific sport.

Furthermore, China’s human rights record and perceived lack of respect for democratic values undermine its efforts to win hearts and minds through sports in these countries, which suffer from their own democratic deficits.

Canberra needs to effectively counter Beijing’s narrative and developmental approach by offering a genuine alternative to Pacific Island nations.

In the Pacific islands, where sports hold immense cultural and social significance, this approach has the potential to be particularly effective. Rugby league and rugby union are deeply ingrained in the cultural fabric of the Pacific islands. These sports provide a sense of identity, community and pride.

Australia, moreover, already has a solid foundation in sports diplomacy in the Pacific. The PacificAus Sports program, launched in 2018, supports Pacific athletes through coaching and development, and promotes gender equality and social inclusion through sports. The NRL’s Pacific Outreach program has produced numerous stars who serve as role models, and foster a sense of connection with Australia.

By investing in sports development and fostering genuine relationships with Pacific Island nations, Australia will gain four advantages. First, it will counter China’s narrative. Sports diplomacy provides a positive and engaging counter-narrative to China’s economic coercion and political interference.

Second, it will strengthen people-to-people links. Sporting exchanges foster cultural understanding and goodwill, builds trust and strengthening bilateral relationships.

Third, it will promote economic development. Sports tourism and related industries create jobs and generate revenue, offering an alternative to Chinese investment.

And, finally, it will enhance Australia’s soft power. A robust sports diplomacy program will bolster Australia’s image as a supportive partner in the region, as opposed to China’s, which inevitably ends up being viewed as the sole benefactor.

With the forthcoming update to the 2019 sports diplomacy strategy, it should build on its successes and include:

—Increased investment in PacificAus Sports. By significantly expanding the program’s reach, it will provide more opportunities for Pacific athletes and coaches to compete at the elite level.

—Expansion of sporting partnerships. By partnering with other sporting organizations, such as the AFL and Cricket Australia, to promote their sports in the Pacific islands, they will gain new fans, players, and teams to compete against.

—Focus on grassroots development. Investment in grassroots sports programs will promote physical activity, healthy lifestyles and community development, strengthening the stability of the islands over the long-term.

—Diplomatic engagements. Sports diplomacy will offer more chances to engage with local governments, allowing for greater alignment with their priorities and needs.

—Promotion of gender equality and social inclusion. Ensuring that sports diplomacy programs are inclusive and accessible to all, regardless of gender, ethnicity or socioeconomic status, will help to promote social stability into the future.

China’s aggressive pursuit of influence poses a direct threat to Australia’s national interests and regional stability. While traditional diplomacy remains essential, it is no longer sufficient alone. Australia must embrace sports diplomacy as a strategic tool to counter China’s coercive tactics and strengthen its relationship with the Pacific Island nations. By leveraging the power of sports, Australia can build genuine partnerships based on shared values, mutual respect and a love for the game.

Australia needs a centre of excellence to counter small drones

The Australian Army must ensure all its soldiers understand the danger posed by small, cheap drones and train them to counter that threat. To best support our forces, a centre of excellence that gathers existing knowledge and provides timely intelligence to Defence is needed.

Such drones, typically based on consumer products or their parts, are called small uncrewed aerial systems (sUASs). They’re widely available, easily operated and well suited to performing surveillance and kinetic attacks on modern battlefields. So they are difficult to sense and defeat, and military forces unprepared for adversarial uses of then have suffered devastating effects in combat.

In October 2023, operators in Ukraine’s Army of Drones project damaged 220 Russian military vehicles and depots in a single week. Referring to the battle for Mosul in 2016, the commander of US Special Operations Command, General Raymond Thomas called small drones operated by Islamic State the ‘most daunting problem’ his forces faced. By the spring of 2017, the Islamic State was conducting 60 to 100 drone strikes a month in Syria and Iraq against US and allied forces.

Traditional air defence capabilities designed to target helicopters and fighter aircraft cannot effectively detect and engage many small drones, and shooting one down costs far more than the drone itself.

At a 2017 military symposium, US General David Perkins relayed the story of an unnamed ally’s use of a US$3 million air defence missile. ‘That quadcopter that cost 200 bucks from Amazon.com did not stand a chance against a Patriot,’ he said.

It was clear then that much cheaper methods were needed, and it’s even clearer after two-and-a-half years of fighting in Ukraine.

The centre of excellence that Australia needs would prepare the Australian Defence Force and other national security agencies for the threat of small drones on home soil and during overseas operations. It should either be part of the defence establishment or be an interdepartmental agency with representatives from CASA, intelligence organisations, the Department of Home Affairs and the Australian Federal Police. And it should focus on four specific areas to improve Australia’s capability to counter sUASs:

—Forecasting developments in technology of sUASs and ways to counter them;

—Gathering global lessons learned from nefarious employment of them;

—Maintaining databases of known sUAS capabilities and vulnerabilities; and

—Assessing suspicious or captured sUASs and exploiting their weaknesses.

The centre would be attuned to the quickly evolving threat of such drones, providing Defence and other government agencies with timely intelligence on the latest sUAS capabilities, tactics and vulnerabilities.

In developing methods to counter small drones, Australia should build on existing technology and knowledge. While a variety of counter-sUAS technologies and commercial systems have emerged, each with its own strengths and limitations, none is ideal in all environments against all threats.

For detecting and tracking small drones, a combination of imaging, radar and passive radiofrequency systems is preferable as it can use the strengths of each technology to detect and identify drones. For the engagement of sUASs, the preferred technology depends on the environment, expected target and likely collateral effects. For example, high-powered microwave weapons might be suitable for defending ground forces in a remote environment against sUAS swarms, but a deployment to a civilian airfield might risk collateral damage to aircraft or air traffic control systems.

Building countermeasures against small drones is challenging, because their technology and the ways of using them are evolving rapidly due to their low cost and ease of development. Operating countries or organisations can easily modify their drones to improve survivability and mission success.

So Australia must develop a layered defence system, combined with continuous research and development on emerging sUAS and counter-sUAS technologies. Passive defences must also be used, including concealment, deception, hardening and dispersion. Passive measures are particularly important in the near term while the Department of Defence works to deliver active means.

The challenge of countering the small-drone threat on Australian territory is even more complex than doing so in overseas deployments, due to Australian regulatory obstacles. Australia was once a global pioneer in establishing rules that govern flights of uncrewed aircraft, but now it must review them in light of the wide proliferation of small drones, rapid advances in their technology and the evolving threats they pose.

Globally, small drones continue to cause significant national security concerns. Some were recently detected flying over a US Air Force plant that makes B-21 bombers, and the gunman who tried to kill Donald Trump used one in advance to study the scene.

By establishing a counter-sUAS centre of excellence and providing training to ADF members, Defence can improve its capabilities based on the latest knowledge and technology and prepare the ADF to counter sUAS threats at home and abroad.

GWEO rockets up the US alliance agenda, but Australia isn’t close to self-sufficiency

A fully independent Australian capability to make missiles remains a long way off, even with the US now showing greater support.

Australian–US cooperation on missile production was one of the few noteworthy areas of progress at last month’s annual AUSMIN meeting of the top Australian and US defence and foreign policy officials. Announcements there underscored that building up Australian industry to produce guided weapons and explosive ordnance, an effort known as the GWEO Enterprise, is no longer simply a national project; it has become an alliance initiative.

It’s clearer than ever that each stage of Australia’s crawl-walk-run approach to developing the GWEO Enterprise will hinge on US assistance, including technical knowledge, initial manufacturing support and, critically, access to global supply chains. Consequently, US defence industrial capacity shortfalls and lingering nervousness about information-sharing will likely shadow Australia’s efforts.

US policymakers have made plain the rationale for partnering with allies on munitions production. Conflicts in Ukraine and the Middle East continue to deplete US stocks and strain production capacity for strike weapons and air-defence interceptors at a disquieting pace. Concerningly, war games run by leading US think tanks suggest that the US would exhaust stocks of key long-range missiles less than one week into a war to defend Taiwan.

In that context, progress on federated munitions production with Australia is welcome. At AUSMIN 2023, Washington agreed to transfer technical data to Australia to enable the co-assembly and eventual co-production of GMLRS truck-mounted missiles beginning in 2025. This year, the allies committed to additional cooperation on training rounds for PrSM short-range ballistic missiles and support for Australian manufacturing of solid-fuel rocket motors for these and other weapons. Along with the 22 August announcement of an $850 million partnership with Kongsberg Defence to build cruise missiles in Australia, the government is clearly moving GWEO from concept to a defence-industry reality.

Both Australia and the United States need this partnership to deliver. US officials have described efforts with Australia to build collective defence production capacity as a blueprint for similar initiatives with other partners. Yet Canberra must heed several lessons as it builds out its GWEO Enterprise with US co-production efforts at the centre.

First, greater sovereign production in Australia won’t eliminate dependence on the US. Self-reliance is not self-sufficiency. Acquisition of US-origin strike weapons will remain central to Australia’s missile mix even once local manufacturing for select missile components is underway. Though recent AUKUS-inspired export control reforms in the US may simplify defence technology trade between Australia and the US, lingering restrictions mean that many US missile-related datasets and components remain closely protected. As a result, even as Australia grows its production capacity, it’s likely that sovereignty over key parts, such as seeker heads and guidance systems, will remain elusive.

This means Australia will continue to rely in part on US production capacity, which will ultimately remain the pacesetter for a federated missile supply chain.

Recent setbacks in Japan’s efforts to boost production of Patriot air defence interceptors demonstrate the challenges to federated defence production. Despite Washington’s encouragement, Japanese efforts to manufacture and export greater numbers of Patriot rounds are capped by shortages of critical components produced exclusively by the US. This demonstrates that transitioning from walking to running will not simply be a matter of Australia doing more and doing it faster. Rather, progressing the GWEO Enterprise will equally depend upon the US getting its industrial house in order—and the degree to which it is willing and able to further empower Australia to help.

Beyond industrial capacity, Washington’s willingness to share sensitive information and technology with one of its most trusted partners will greatly influence the scope of the GWEO Enterprise. Sharing details about national supply-chain vulnerabilities is the greatest constraint on configuring allied inputs for maximum output. Yet, even within the trusted community of AUKUS, the US government is reticent about sharing information and technical data, despite Australia’s insistence that it seeks to complement, rather than compete with, US industry. This reluctance is a Cold War muscle memory that must be overcome for GWEO cooperation to achieve its potential.

The upcoming announcement of the Australian government’s strategic enterprise plan for sovereign missile manufacturing this year will provide overdue and welcome direction for the GWEO Enterprise. That GWEO has rocketed up the list of priorities at AUSMIN is also a strong show of intent. But even as Australia expands its missile production footprint, the policy community must be realistic about just how far sovereignty or self-reliance can go in the GWEO project.

Countering deepfakes: We need to forecast AI threats

Australia needs to get ahead of the AI criminality curve.

Last month, parliament criminalised the use of deepfake technology to create or share non-consensual pornographic material. The legislation is commendable and important, but the government should consider more action to address new forms of criminality based on AI and other technology.

As far as possible, we shouldn’t let these new forms surprise us. The government should organise a group of representatives from law-enforcement and national security agencies to identify potential or emerging criminal applications of new tech and begin working on responses before people are affected. Functionally, the group would look for the early warning signs and adjust our course well before potential challenges become crises.

The legislation followed recent cases in which Australians, especially young women and girls, were targeted via deepfakes and legislation was found wanting. In the past few years, there have been many incidents of non-consensual pornographic deepfakes affecting students and teachers. Most often, that content is created by young men. Similar cases have occurred internationally.

Deepfake risks were identified years ago. High-profile cases of non-consensual deepfake pornography date back to 2017, when it was used to generate sexually explicit content depicting various celebrities; and, in 2019, AI monitoring group Sensity found that 96 percent of deepfake videos were non-consensual pornography. A 2020 ASPI report also highlighted the issue’s national-security implications.

Unfortunately, non-consensual deepfakes are not the only issue. Rapidly developing AI and other emerging technologies have intricate and multiplying effects and are useful for both legitimate and criminal actors. AI chatbots can be used to generate misleading resources for financial investment scams, and image generators and voice clones can be used to create divisive misinformation or disinformation or promote conspiracy theories.

The issue is not that we can’t foresee these challenges. We can and do. The problem is in the lag between identifying the emergent threat and creating policy to address it before it becomes more widespread. Legislative systems are cumbersome and complex—and policymakers and legislators alike are often focused on current challenges and crises, not those still emerging. Bringing together the right people to identify and effectively prepare for challenges is essential to good law enforcement and protecting victims.

Beyond legislation, the government should establish a group of experts—from the Department of Home Affairs and the Attorney-General’s Department, the Department of Education, the National Intelligence Community, the Australian Cyber Security Centre, the eSafety Commission and law enforcement agencies. The group’s key role would be to consider how emerging technology can be manipulated by criminal and other actors, and how to best prepare against it and protect Australians.

It would need to meet regularly, ideally quarterly, and distribute its assessments at a high level to affect strategic and operational decision-making. Meeting this challenge will also require a whole-of-society approach, including experts from academia, think tanks, industry, social workers and representatives from community and vulnerable groups. Each of those groups offers valuable and necessary insights—especially at the coalface—and will be vital in creating change on the ground.

The need for their inclusion is evident from the current non-consensual deepfake pornography challenge. Reports on the bill highlighted a handful of problematic areas with it, including effects on young offenders. A significant proportion of this content is being created by young people—and, while it is now rightly a crime, the ideal long-term solution is in preventing, not prosecuting, non-consensual deepfake pornography. The National Children’s Commissioner particularly raised concerns that the law could result in higher rates of child incarceration as a result of sharing the material.

The effects of generative AI and other technology in the community are also extensive and harmful below the criminal threshold. The technology is increasingly being used to create fake social media influencers and streamers, or fake online love interests. Users can interact in real time with often highly sexualised or explicit AI-dependent content. Harms include the fostering of unhealthy parasocial attachments among vulnerable or socially isolated people—especially young men and boys.

Community and socially focused organisations and individuals will see these challenges far more immediately and clearly than government. Accessing their experience and expertise should be a priority for policymakers.

New technologies will continue to be developed, and they will continue to have an even greater effect on our lives. We might not always be able to predict such changes, but the potential challenges are not unpredictable. While legislation is important, a proactive approach is crucial.

Technology can serve humanity if we don’t let it outpace our societies

‘Progress is happening so quickly that governments and societies struggle to understand revolutionary and disruptive technology, much less mobilise effective responses.’

  • This is an edited version of Justin Bassi’s opening speech at ASPI’s Sydney Dialogue taking place on September 2 and 3.

Most of you probably flew to Sydney to join us. And most of you probably didn’t think much about the shape of the windows in the plane—but let me tell you something interesting about plane windows. They used to be square.

The world’s first commercial airliner, the de Havilland Comet built in Hertfordshire England carried more than 30,000 passengers in its first full year of operation in 1953, including Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother and Princess Margaret. 

But in 1954, two Comets came apart in the air, killing everyone on board in both instances. Investigations found that the fuselage around the corners of the square windows suffered metal fatigue from the stress caused by the sharp angles. And this was the cause of the crashes.

Plane makers around the world switched to rounded windows … and commercial aviation has gone on to contribute arguably as much as any technology to boost our civilisation—enabling most people to experience other parts of the world, conduct business face-to-face, share their thoughts and ideas, and learn from one another—as we’ll do over the next two days.

The point of the story is that technology improves our lives while introducing new risks. As with aviation, there’s a period of adjustment: we discover problems, we find sensible fixes, the cost comes down, the take-up rises and the technology becomes baked into our lives, contributing to our social, economic and cultural growth.

What is changing, however, is the speed at which new technologies are being developed and the impact they are having. We have galloping progress in fields such as artificial intelligence, synthetic biology and quantum computing—to name a few. Technological progress is cumulative and cross-pollinating, so that advances in one field tend to drive advances in others. And as that progress builds, the stakes both in terms of rewards and risks grow.

As our first speaker Eric Schmidt has written of artificial intelligence: ‘Faster aeroplanes did not help build faster aeroplanes, but faster computers will help build faster computers.’

And that’s the challenge. Progress is happening so quickly that governments and societies struggle to understand revolutionary and disruptive technology, much less mobilise effective responses.

And if we don’t roll up our sleeves and wrestle with difficult policy challenges around emerging technologies, we yield the space to others who might be motivated purely by financial gain or political power. Then, technology isn’t serving the needs and interests of the majority of people.

Things don’t automatically break our way. People actually have to ask the right questions and start the right conversations.

In September 1984, 40 years ago almost to the day, the US introduced the first Presidential Directive on cyber, titled NSDD-145, establishing a comprehensive and co-ordinated approach to information systems security.

It came about because then President Ronald Reagan, after watching the movie War Games, asked whether the cyber attacks portrayed in the film could really happen. His question was initially met with derision but, after a review, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Vessey, returned with the answer: “Mr President, the problem is much worse than you think.”

The lag period between the development of technology and our ability to manage it is where the risk is most intense and the benefits most uncertain.

And the reason the Sydney Dialogue was established was to help shorten this period—to prompt those questions and conversations by bringing together political leaders, tech CEOs and the world’s top civil society voices to talk about how we can roll out the next waves of technology in secure and stable ways.

In just three years since we held the first Sydney Dialogue:

  • The lingering lessons of COVID and the deteriorating strategic environment have combined to accelerate the trend of economic derisking—especially by the United States and China.
  • Generative AI has demonstrated the immense power and mystery of deep learning and massive amounts of computing—leaving governments grappling with how to regulate a technology for which there isn’t really any regulatory precedent.
  • Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has demonstrated the chameleonic dimensions of hybrid warfare—underscoring the importance of cybersecurity and of mounting defences against threats ranging from disinformation and propaganda to attacks on power grids and other critical infrastructure.
  • And disinformation—including deepfake-generated disinformation—has thrown our entire infoscape into question, raising fears of personalised content created at effectively zero cost yet targeting millions of people for malign purposes. This has profound implications for democracies that depend on public trust in the integrity of institutions and elections.

The Sydney Dialogue is proudly focused on the Indo-Pacific region—the most populous, dynamic and diverse region in the world.

These are conversations for all of us—and I’m very pleased to say that we have more than 30 countries represented here.

And by the end of the Dialogue, I hope that we’re a little bit closer to finding the right rules and norms that translate across borders to foster safe and secure access to transformative technologies; help distribute the benefits equitably; earn the trust of our citizens; and protect individual rights and democratic freedoms.

As the power of technology grows—and everyone in this room knows that’s the course we’re on—the stakes are getting higher and the conversations more vital. That’s why we’re all here.

How Australia can limit the downsides of critical-minerals mining

As Australia expands its critical-minerals industry, it must limit the environmental and social effects of mining and maintain high governance standards. The government should work with the private sector, non-government organisations and human rights advocates to broker standards that balance the benefits and harms of critical-minerals mining.

The urgent need to decarbonise is driving a global shift to renewable energy, the one bright spot in an otherwise dire response to our changing climate. Globally, prices of solar power, wind power and lithium-ion batteries have tumbled, and their deployment has dramatically increased. The energy transition is an opportunity for Australia to capitalise on its abundant reserves of critical-minerals needed for the production of wind turbines, solar PV panels and lithium-ion batteries.

Australia is the world’s largest producer of lithium, the third largest for cobalt and the fourth largest for rare earth elements. It has the scope to increase production at existing mines while exploring new deposits. At the same time, mining companies face various difficulties, such as riding the boom and bust cycle of the highly volatile critical-mineral markets and navigating geopolitical tensions between the United States and China. New industrial policies in the US, EU and Australia (through the Future Made in Australia Act) contribute to further increases in investment by the private sector and governments, fuelling competition in minerals processing and manufacturing.

In prioritising the mining of critical-minerals, Australia must tackle serious environmental challenges, which the UN calls a triple planetary crisis of climate change, biodiversity loss and pollution. Our drive to dig and ship critical-minerals—or even dig, process and ship them—must be tempered by the need to minimise effects on our precious water supply and biodiversity.

We must mine in a way that minimises pollution, which is a significant driver of biodiversity loss in Australia. As a result of our failure to protect fragile ecosystems and species, 19 ecosystems are already in various stages of collapse with the potential to affect food systems and drinking water in major cities. Facilitating the clean energy transition is important, but minimising its harmful side effects is an imperative.

We must also remember that Australia’s high environmental and social standards are among its competitive advantages; it must update them. Scholars have identified that Australia has not advanced its environmental, social and governance (ESG) standards as it has upgraded the nickel industry, at least.

If Australia wants to protect the planet and habitat, states may have to pay higher costs for mining that is ethical and more environmental. It is a confounding problem: if higher costs cuts profits, they may undermine the shift to renewables, which will in turn contribute to climatic instability and threaten our way of life.

Australia should also be aware of no-go zones where mining should not occur, an issue that we examine at the Sydney Environment Institute. An example is deep-sea mining, a new frontier for mining operations that could have quite harmful environmental impacts. It’s also questionable whether mining should occur in areas of prime agricultural land in Australia, given that farming is already under threat from climate change. This highlights the trade-offs between the importance of critical-minerals mining for national energy supply and the need to protect environmental and food security.

Social effects of critical-minerals mining can be limited by developing better relations with First Nations people, as more than half of critical-minerals projects are on lands where the traditional owners have a right to negotiate. The operational social licence of critical-mineral miners could be substantially improved through collaboration with regional communities and mutually beneficial economic opportunities, contributing to renewable energy production that could drastically reduce energy poverty in remote areas.

Australia should also develop new mining methods that limit environmental effects. The Future Made in Australia Act focuses not just on encouraging private investment in critical-minerals mining, but also on research and development in new technologies, including AI. These will reduce costs, increase efficiency and limit environmental harms, particularly those related to water use and hazardous waste.

Tensions and trade-offs in the critical-minerals mining industry mean that decisions about where, what and how to mine cannot be made only in Perth and Canberra, let alone in Washington DC or in the capitals of any of our other partners. The glaring absence of multilateral mining regulations demonstrates the problem of import markets such as the US and the EU wanting critical-minerals for renewables cheaply and urgently, while also wanting improved ESG outcomes.

So while national governments focus on improving access, governance standards can be improved by engaging all three points of the governance triangle: the state, the private sector (investors, mining companies, up-stream and down-stream companies) and civil society, including environmental non-government organisations and human rights advocates. Increasingly, all three are needed in brokering acceptable standards that balance the trade-offs between the benefits of mining minerals for renewables and the harms it causes.

China is likely to step up influence operations in Palau

As Palau approaches its November presidential election, expect China to intensify its influence operations in the strategically crucial Pacific island state. Much is at stake: the election may determine Palau’s future relationship with Taiwan and its stance towards the People’s Republic of China.

The prospect of intensified Chinese influence operations increases the risk of a candidate preferred by Beijing becoming president in a country that’s just 2,400 kilometres from the South China Sea, is a key ally of the United States and supports it by hosting a major air base, a naval base and a newly installed radar with extremely long range.

Palau has already been the target of Chinese information operations, and there are several indicators that those efforts are now being directed at the election. China is likely to implement refined tactics that it previously used in the recent Philippine and Taiwan presidential elections. Urgent action to guard against interference is crucial to protect Palau’s democratic process and sovereignty as a whole.

The two major candidates confirmed to be in the race are current president Surangel Whipps Jr, who is pro-US but less popular with the public overall, and former president Thomas Remengesau Jr, who has several ties to China and is favoured to win.

A recent report by the US State Department’s Global Engagement Center outlines Beijing’s five main tactics to manipulate the information space. One tactic—propaganda and censorship—is of primary relevance in Palau.

Propaganda and censorship have been used by China to directly manipulate its messaging worldwide. For example, China has made several attempts to gain a foothold in Palau’s domestic media ecosystem.

As detailed in an OCCRP article, ‘Failed Palau media deal reveals inner workings of China’s Pacific influence effort’, a local news outlet has been linked to CCP-associated individuals and narratives several times in the past. The outlet, Tia Belau, is one of two widely circulated domestic newspapers in Palau. Its owner, founder and recently declared presidential candidate, Moses Uludong, is a prominent figure in Palauan media and has been documented on multiple occasions advocating for closer relations with China.

In 2018, Uludong joined the Palau Media Group—a venture led by Tian ‘Hunter’ Hang, a key player in China’s strategy to exert soft-power influence in Palau. While the Palau Media Group did not succeed upon launch, Tia Belau has since been used to publish pro-China content and is known as a China-sympathetic media source. Beijing’s blatant investment in local media outlets, such as Tia Belau, minimises the potential exposure of unfavourable stories and pushes very specific dialogues that support Chinese interests.

China uses a variety of censorship tactics that could disproportionately affect a small, relatively isolated population such as Palau. They include information disturbance (flooding the information space with false narratives to create doubt and uncertainty), discourse competition (shaping cognition by manipulating emotions and implanting biases), public opinion blackout (using bots to flood social-media spaces with a specific narrative to suppress opposing views), and blocking of information (technical blockades and physical destruction of narratives unfavourable to China) to censor the information space, several of which have been increasingly seen in Palau leading up to the election.

Tracking and identifying specific instances of China-influenced messaging is challenging, as it is with all forms of misinformation. Nonetheless, it’s clear that China has significantly increased its focus on Palau in the months before the election, leveraging economic pressures to promote China-favoured narratives. Combined with the evidence collected from Chinese involvement in other recent elections, there’s little doubt that China is using social media and news outlets to reshape ‘China’s story’ within Palau, aiming to influence the political outcome of the election.

Given Palau’s small population, geographic location and susceptibility to corruption, combating Chinese election interference will be challenging. Tactics similar to those implemented in Taiwan, such as amplifying local conflicts, using local proxies, media outlets and social-media accounts, exploiting domestic actors with ideologically aligned views, and relying on artificial intelligence to promote desired CCP messages and outcomes, should be expected. Direct media interference and disinformation campaigns, as seen in the Philippines, are also highly probable.

Countermeasures inspired by those implemented in Taiwan could help Palau build resistance to China’s propaganda. Targeted training for Palauan journalists and media professionals on countering disinformation could help bolster resilience and incentivise responsible journalism. Palau’s government could prioritise debunking disinformation with counternarratives, prosecuting individuals involved in large-scale disinformation campaigns, or implementing legislation similar to Australia’s News Media Bargaining Code or Taiwan’s Anti-Infiltration Act. Finally, Palau could encourage civil-society initiatives that track and counter disinformation, as well as media literacy programs in schools that teach students how to resist false narratives.

China’s information operations in Palau highlight the need for the nation to adopt effective countermeasures as it approaches its presidential election this autumn. By learning from the experience of Taiwan and the Philippines, Palau can enhance its resilience and protect its information environment.

It’s too soon to be sure, but watch out for Prabowo tilting a little to China

Indonesia’s president-elect Prabowo Subianto may be inclined to re-balance his country’s non-alignment strategy more towards China and away from the United States. It is too early to be sure, because he will not take office until 20 October, but recent events and Prabowo’s background hint at a possible change.

While preparing to assume office in October after the election in February, Prabowo made his first overseas visit as president-elect to China, where he positioned himself as an ‘old friend’. He then stopped by a ‘great friend’, Russian President Vladimir Putin, from whom he requested closer relations through nuclear power technology imports. It was his fourth visit to Putin in four years.

Meanwhile, Prabowo, formerly a nativist of a type that targets Chinese Indonesians, has converted over the past years to become one of their great supporters. And he has done so amid China’s large and growing economic influence in Indonesia.

If Prabowo is inclined to tilt away from Washington, he’d be extending distance that has appeared lately during the presidency of Joko Widodo (Jokowi). For example, Indonesia’s stand on the war in Ukraine has been muddled.

And Jakarta has been hostile towards Washington for its close relationship with Israel in relation to the war in Gaza. That has contrasted with the containment of Islamic outrage within Indonesia against China’s treatment of Uighurs.

Because Prabowo was subject to a visa ban by the United States until 2019, due to accusations of human rights abuses by a military unit he was linked to, he is unlikely to be as accepting of influence by Washington as past presidents.

Indonesia was the leading recipient of China’s Southeast Asian investments in 2023, attracting $7 billion. The same year also saw Chinese Premier Li Qiang confirm $22 billion in new investments in Indonesia. Meanwhile, the non-Chinese investment footprint in Indonesia is shrinking.

Chinese domination of certain Indonesian industries is notable. Indonesia has 22 percent of global reserves of nickel and accounts for 36 percent of the world’s supply of the metal. China-based companies built more than 90 percent of the nickel smelters in Indonesia.

Prabowo began his career as a paragon of nativism, reminiscent of his father-in-law, former president Suharto, who backed or tolerated pogroms and language-eradication programs. Prabowo’s conversion into a supporter of Chinese Indonesians has therefore been remarkable.

He explained that he had always loved Chinese philosophy and songs.

He’s made another switch, too, from a tough ex-special forces commander to a dove of the South China Sea, where Chinese territorial claims infringe on Indonesia’s exclusive economic zone. His change began during Jokowi’s administration, when he sided with officials who wanted to take a soft line in standing up to China’s claims.

None of this evidence should be taken too far. Prabowo is likely to be similar to Jokowi in pursuing neither permanent friends or enemies, only interests. Yet he seems more enthusiastic about considering China as a prop, rather than threat, to Indonesia’s rise.

If he does choose to shift closer to China, his strong nationalist reputation will protect him against accusations of deference. The reputation will also help satisfy a large nativist bloc that has grown frustrated by large influxes of Chinese labour and capital.

Altogether, we see hints of a shift towards China by an incoming president whose background suggests he may be inclined to make such a move and would be better positioned than other Indonesian leaders to do so.

Now we await further evidence.

The danger of AI in war: it doesn’t care about self-preservation

Recent wargames using artificial-intelligence models from OpenAI, Meta and Anthropic revealed a troubling trend: AI models are more likely than humans to escalate conflicts to kinetic, even nuclear, war.

This outcome highlights a fundamental difference in the nature of war between humans and AI. For humans, war is a means to impose will for survival; for AI the calculus of risk and reward is entirely different, because, as the pioneering scientist Geoffrey Hinton noted, ‘we’re biological systems, and these are digital systems.’

Regardless of how much control humans exercise over AI systems, we cannot stop the widening divergence between their behaviour and ours, because AI neural networks are moving towards autonomy and are increasingly hard to explain.

To put it bluntly, whereas human wargames and war itself entail the deliberate use of force to compel an enemy to our will, AI is not bound to the core of human instincts, self-preservation. The human desire for survival opens the door for diplomacy and conflict resolution, but whether and to what extent AI models can be trusted to handle the nuances of negotiation that align with human values is unknown.

The potential for catastrophic harm from advanced AI is real, as underscored by the Bletchley Declaration on AI, signed by nearly 30 countries, including Australia, China, the US and Britain. The declaration emphasises the need for responsible AI development and control over the tools of war we create.

Similarly, ongoing UN discussions on lethal autonomous weapons stress that algorithms should not have full control over decisions involving life and death. This concern mirrors past efforts to regulate or ban certain weapons. However, what sets AI-enabled autonomous weapons apart is the extent to which they remove human oversight from the use of force.

A major issue with AI is what’s called the explainability paradox: even its developers often cannot explain why AI systems make certain decisions. This lack of transparency is a significant problem in high-stakes areas, including military and diplomatic decision-making, where it could exacerbate existing geopolitical tensions. As Mustafa Suleyman, co-founder of DeepMind, pointed out, AI’s opaque nature means we are unable to decode the decisions of AI to explain precisely why an algorithm produced a particular result.

Rather than seeing AI as a mere tool, it’s more accurate to view it as an agent capable of making independent judgments and decisions. This capability is unprecedented, as AI can generate new ideas and interact with other AI agents autonomously, beyond direct human control. The potential for AI agents to make decisions without human input raises significant concerns about the control of these powerful technologies—a problem that even the developers of the first nuclear weapons grappled with.

While some want to impose regulation on AI somewhat like the nuclear non-proliferation regime, which has so far limited nuclear weapons to nine states, AI poses unique challenges. Unlike nuclear technology, its development and deployment are decentralized and driven by private entities and individuals, so its inherently hard to regulate. The technology is spreading universally and rapidly with little government oversight. It’s open to malicious use by state and nonstate actors.

As AI systems grow more advanced, they introduce new risks, including elevating misinformation and disinformation to unprecedented levels.

AI’s application to biotech opens new avenues for terrorist groups and individuals to develop advanced biological weapons. That could encourage malign actors, lowering the threshold for conflict and making attacks more likely.

Keeping a human in the loop is vital as AI systems increasingly influence critical decisions. Even when humans are involved, their role in oversight may diminish as trust in AI output grows, despite AI’s known issues with hallucinations and errors. The reliance on AI could lead to a dangerous overconfidence in its decisions, especially in military contexts where speed and efficiency often trump caution.

As AI becomes ubiquitous, human involvement in decision-making processes may dwindle due to the costs and inefficiencies associated with human oversight. In military scenarios, speed is a critical factor, and AI’s ability to perform complex tasks rapidly can provide a decisive edge. However, this speed advantage may come at the cost of surrendering human control, raising ethical and strategic dilemmas about the extent to which we allow machines to dictate the course of human conflict.

The accelerating pace at which AI operates could ultimately pressure the role of humans in decision-making loops, as the demand for faster responses might lead to sidelining human judgment. This dynamic could create a precarious situation where the quest for speed and efficiency undermines the very human oversight needed to ensure that the use of AI aligns with our values and safety standards.