Defending democracy: The case for an integrated fight against disinformation

Australia urgently needs an integrated approach to fighting disinformation, especially that involving foreign actors. Relying on isolated regulatory measures, siloed capabilities, and disparate working groups isn’t good enough.

Australia could look to international models in balancing the need for security with the protection of fundamental freedoms. This isn’t about setting up an authority to moderate content or creating a ministry of truth. It is about upgrading our institutional architecture to ensure a coordinated, comprehensive and strategic approach that leverages collective resources and expertise, enabling Australia to effectively counter the pervasive threat of disinformation while upholding democratic values.

Disinformation erodes public trust, polarises communities and destabilises democratic processes. But it’s not new. Deploying false and manipulated information has long been recognised as a crucial tactic in modern warfare. Alongside misinformation and malinformation, these tactics are often part of broader cognitive warfare strategies that can be traced back to the 18th and 19th centuries.

Modern psychological operations sow confusion in much the same way as their forbears. But the emergence of social media and the interconnectedness of global societies have amplified reach and effect of psychological operations to unprecedented levels, presenting new challenges for governments worldwide.

In Australia, where democratic values and a free press are cornerstones of society, the stakes are high, potentially swaying the outcome of elections. Studies into voter behaviour in the United States and Italy show that online disinformation has a real-world impact and could tip electoral scales. It is only a matter of time and technology before this threat becomes so sophisticated that voters might be swayed enough to topple heads of state.

If the government wants disinformation to stop, why is it taking a fragmented approach to fighting the threat? Strategy isn’t unified, education efforts are segmented, widespread public awareness is lacking, and there’s no centralised oversight of activities spanning the information environment.

This approach is inefficient and strategically ineffective. It creates gaps—such as inconsistent messaging to the public, slow responses to critical issues, and disparities in technology adoption—that could be exploited to undermine public confidence and social cohesion.

An overlapping landscape of bodies have a disinformation mandate. The Parliamentary Joint Committee on Intelligence and Security (PJCIS) mapped 24 federal departments and agencies with responsibilities and connections for countering cyber enabled foreign interference.

The Electoral Integrity Assurance Taskforce focuses on electoral disinformation; the Strengthening Democracy Taskforce works to strengthen democracy writ large; two taskforces focus on foreign interference, in which disinformation is a factor; and the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade established a counter-disinformation taskforce during the Covid-19 pandemic.

There are regulators forums, the eSafety Commissioner and the Australian Communications and Media Authority, tasked with overseeing the online misinformation code of practice.

Throw into the mix Australia’s intelligence, defence and police agencies, which bring to the challenge some of the best capabilities in the world, and the landscape starts to get increasingly crowded.

To effectively counter disinformation, Australia will need a more streamlined and integrated approach that coordinates these efforts and leverages collective strength.

I’ve previously written about the centralised approaches in France, Canada and Lithuania. In response to aggressive Russian cognitive warfare, Sweden’s Psychological Defence Agency works to lift the country’s psychological defence across all levels of government. In 2023, the United States created a federal disinformation office responsible for integrating intelligence on foreign malign influence, advancing strategic analysis and overseeing election security efforts. Meanwhile, Italy has tabled an urgent bill in parliament to establish a national cognitive security agency, and the European Union has expanded its anti-disinformation centres to cover all member countries.

What these initiatives have in common is a centralised approach to disinformation, with a focus on intelligence integration, stakeholder coordination, strategic analysis and operational development, all through a national and subnational approach. Some agencies specifically focus on election safeguards, but this isn’t the only focus—because countering disinformation threats is constant, not momentary.

Some initiatives are not without challenge. Critics are quick to cite potential overreach and privacy concerns, and the EU’s efforts have been complicated by the diverse legal and cultural landscape across member states. Australia can learn from these experiences, working to balance the need for a strong, coordinated response with the protection of individual rights and freedoms.

The idea of a lead Australian agency responsible for countering disinformation is not new. The PJCIS recommended this just last year. But the government only noted the recommendation, satisfied that the existing disparate structure and multiple coordination mechanisms were sufficient to deal with the growing threat.

While experts agree there are several components of an effective disinformation strategy—including media literacy, regulation, prebunking and algorithmic transparency—none on its own is a silver bullet. What we need is a unified national strategy that brings all the elements together, and an agency with clear responsibility working under strong ethical guidelines to prevent abuses.

Information integrity is critical to democratic resilience. The next election, due in 2025, need not be a test of our disinformation preparedness, but if no changes are made to the current approach, it unfortunately may well become one. To ensure we are adequately protected in an election year and beyond, Australia must upgrade its institutional architecture. This will not only enhance our response to emerging threats but also fortify against future attempts to undermine the very fabric of Australian society.

Australia needs a coast guard to fight and win in the grey zone

Australia should establish a coast guard to counter China’s use of grey zone tactics in expanding its territorial claims in the South China Sea. China is using its coast guard, along with civilian vessels and fishing boats, to impose its presence, so Australia and its regional partners should respond in kind.

A dedicated, militarised coast guard would be more effective than joint naval patrols in conducting a proportionate response to Chinese aggression and less likely than direct naval approaches to escalate tensions. An Australian coast guard could build on recent collaborations with the US Coast Guard to match China’s tactics in the region.

Whether or not Australia needs a coast guard is a recurring question in national security circles. Experts point to the lack of resources within the Royal Australian Navy (RAN) to defend Australia’s coast, support allies and protect national interests abroad. A coast guard would reduce the navy’s responsibilities by taking the lead on local constabulary and border protection operations, freeing up the RAN to focus on the business of warfighting.

Furthermore, a coast guard could support the RAN in facing unique threats at sea, namely China’s use of grey zone tactics in its campaign to expand its territorial claims in the South China Sea. Grey zone tactics are designed to coerce other states without rising above the threshold for conventional retaliation.

As an island nation, Australia depends on open sea lines of communication (SLOCs) for the movement of goods and security forces, and China’s territorial claims have the potential to constrict these important passages. Canberra has repeatedly emphasised the importance of free and open SLOCs in its defence policy, and its commitment to a free and open Indo-Pacific in its national security strategy. The 2017 Foreign Policy White Paper said Australia relied on its SLOCs to connect with the world, and the 2020 Defence Strategic Update stressed the importance of access through the Indo-Pacific for security and trade.

Despite the commitment of Australia and other countries to upholding international law and freedom of navigation, China is steadily making gains in the South China Sea, using its coast guard and ostensibly civilian fishing boats to engage in grey zone tactics.

These tactics put the United States and Australia in a difficult position. If they deploy their warships, China can accuse them of escalating the situation. So, to fight and win in the grey zone, they must also use grey zone tactics and send out civilian vessels—fishing boats and the coast guard ships.

The US Coast Guard has been considering this strategy since 2017 and recently moved the homeport of its cutter Harriet Lane to Pearl Harbour to help South Pacific partners police their exclusive economic zones. Indeed, Australian Border Force officers travelled on Harriet Lane in March as part of Operation Blue Pacific Patrol.

This kind of constabulary cooperation could provide a model for proportionate response to China’s tactics. The deployment of Harriet Lane was not directly aimed at China, but it provided scope for the US to respond to China’s coast guard with corresponding force. China has already protested against the US Coast Guard’s law enforcement activities in the South Pacific.

If Australia wants to counter Chinese aggression without escalation, it must develop its own constabulary maritime force. A forward-deployed coast guard could go head-to-head with China in the South China Sea, working in collaboration with the US (and possibly Malaysian, Indonesian, Vietnamese or Philippine police as sea riders). A dedicated constabulary force would permit a proportionate response, while preventing high tensions from inadvertently escalating into war.

An Australian coast guard would play a balanced role in countering China in the South China Sea. Joint patrols make for good press releases but don’t deter Chinese aggression, while direct naval approaches risk escalating tensions. A constabulary force would lessen this risk and permit a proportionate response. A dedicated, militarised coast guard would allow Australia to set up the right configuration of forces to make an effective stand. It wouldn’t be a quick fix, but it’s what Australia needs to win in the grey zone.

From the bookshelf: ‘Zhou Enlai: A Life’

Zhou Enlai was a giant of twentieth century international relations. Serving as China’s premier from the establishment of the People’s Republic in 1949 until his death in 1976 and also as China’s first foreign minister, Zhou set up China’s foreign service and skilfully guided China through the international events of the entire Mao Zedong era.

Zhou was a key member of the Chinese Communist Party’s leadership already in the 1920s, outranking Mao initially. He quickly established himself as the CCP’s indispensable person for getting things done. Later, as premier and foreign minister, he laid the foundations for China’s role as a leader of the global south in the 1950s, managed the Sino-Soviet rift in the 1960s, and was key to the opening of relations with the United States in the 1970s, helping to turn a crucial page in China’s history.

Zhou was the consummate political survivor. Under the mercurial Mao, this was no mean feat, as demonstrated by the fates of Zhou’s contemporaries. Following ideological disagreements in the wake of the disastrous Great Leap Forward, Mao shunned his anointed successor, Liu Shaoqi, who was detained by Red Guards and died in captivity. Lin Biao, another designated successor, was killed in a plane crash while fleeing the country following a power struggle, while Deng Xiaoping was purged twice, before rising to power following Mao’s death.

In stark contrast, Zhou learned to swallow his pride and was ultimately subservient to Mao. At the same time his diplomatic and organizational skills made him indispensable. However, Zhou’s record is mixed. He played a key role in tempering the chairman’s worst political excesses, particularly during the Cultural Revolution, and paved the way for the subsequent opening of China’s economy. But through his unwavering support he also facilitated Mao’s tyranny.

How did Zhou manage to survive over half a century of political turmoil, while at the same time deftly ushering China onto the global stage?

In Zhou Enlai: A Life, Chen Jian answers this question and many more. Chen is a professor of history at New York University and an emeritus professor at Cornell University. He spent the better part of 20 years researching this vivid and nuanced biography of a leader described by US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger as ‘one of the two or three most impressive men I have ever met’.

Zhou’s complex relationship with chairman Mao is at the centre of Chen’s narrative. In the 1920s at the CCP headquarters in Shanghai, Zhou was reluctant to become the head of the CCP, setting a pattern that would mark his entire career as the steadfast number two. On economic policy and even ideology, the moderate and reform-minded Zhou and the chairman never quite saw eye to eye.

The manipulative Mao used and abused the relationship, never entirely trusting Zhou. To survive the chairman’s whims, Zhou accepted frequent debasement and reprimands while only rarely receiving praise. When Zhou was diagnosed with gallbladder cancer in 1972, Mao prevented him from receiving potentially lifesaving surgery. It is widely assumed that Mao did not want Zhou to outlive him.

Throughout his career Zhou skilfully managed events, with a keen eye for detail. During the turmoil of the Cultural Revolution, he ensured that the Zhongnanhai leadership compound and the cultural treasures of the Forbidden City were protected from rampaging Red Guards.

Zhou’s list of international achievements is vast. He negotiated sensitive border issues with Indian leader Jawaharlal Nehru, managed conflict-ridden relations with Soviet leaders Joseph Stalin and Nikita Khrushchev, established ties with newly independent emerging economies and opened up relations with the West. As premier, Zhou also handled domestic issues. He led the drafting of China’s first five-year plan and worked hard to counterbalance Mao’s policy swings and mitigate the damage caused by the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution.

Chen also provides a Chinese perspective on the behind-the-scenes negotiations leading up to Nixon’s visit to China, which have been extensively covered from an American perspective. The early stages were particularly sensitive, with both sides inching their way towards negotiations and neither side wanting to lose face.

In late 1970, Zhou arranged for major Chinese newspapers to publish a picture of Mao meeting the American journalist Edgar Snow, intending to send a sign to the Americans. At the time serving as national security adviser, Henry Kissinger missed the signal and later admitted that the Chinese ‘overestimated our subtlety’. To ensure that everything went to plan, in the ‘ping-pong diplomacy’ that followed, Zhou ordered the Chinese players to ‘let the American players win a few games’.

Chen provides a fascinating account of the wrangling within the CCP that deepened the rift between Mao and Lin Biao, and of the power struggle within the top leadership as Zhou and Mao both prepared to ‘meet Karl Marx’. As Xi Jinping advances in age and China’s younger leaders position themselves for an eventual succession struggle, these lessons will become increasingly relevant.

The lives of China’s top leaders, including Mao and Deng, have been extensively covered, but a comprehensive account of Zhou’s life has been a long time coming. Thoroughly researched, detailed and balanced, in Zhou Enlai: A Life, Zhou finally has the biography he deserves.

Let’s take a close look at how we protect our undersea cables

The number of subsea cables landing in Australia has more than doubled since the legislation to create protection zones for these vital pieces of infrastructure was passed in 2005.

We rely ever more heavily on the connectivity that cables provide and, with capacity-hungry 6G on the horizon, the need will only grow.

And yet, aside from some tinkering five years in—and that happened only because of a mandatory review—the legislation has not been updated in the nearly two decades that have passed since it came into effect. That needs to change, given the risks of sabotage or accident have only increased as more cables are connected, and our way of life becomes more reliant on these data pathways. We are well overdue for a proper review and update.

The changes in 2005 to the Telecommunications Act 1997 established protection zones for submarine cables of national significance. The new Schedule 3A prohibited activities in these zones that would likely result in damage to the cables, such as fishing using gear that rests on or near the seabed, and also introduced criminal penalties for damaging cables.

Australia’s framework has been considered a ‘gold standard’—probably in part because it criminalised damage to cables, fulfilling an obligation under the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea.

There is some redundancy and resilience in the industry thanks to the number of subsea cables, with landing stations as far flung as the Sunshine Coast, Port Headland and Darwin—with more proposed. And of course, providers don’t want their cables cut or damaged given it means unhappy customers and reputational harm to their business. Companies therefore tend to have business continuity plans in the event of a disruption.

Yet it is a telling indicator that no new protection zones have been established since the original three were declared in 2007, with two in Sydney and one in Perth. But that only covers about two thirds of Australia’s cable landing sites, counting spurs and mainland connections to nearby islands – including Tasmania. It would be an obvious worry if providers don’t feel the zones are worth the effort to register.

Under the 2005 law, the Australian Communications and Media Authority can declare zones of its own initiative or accept applications from a carrier for a new zone. An application comes with a price tag of $161,251.

Considering the cost to repair a cable and the inevitable disruption to services, this a paltry sum. When Vocus’s Australian Singapore Cable in the Perth protection zone was cut in 2021—the only known cut to a cable in an Australian protection zone—the cost to repair was $1.5 million.

It’s hard to explain why more applications have not been made. One suggestion from a cable company was the ‘free rider’ issue—whereby other companies can take advantage of a safety zone funded by competitors. But that doesn’t seem enough of a blocker.

Part of the problem is there are no metrics by which to judge the efficacy of the protection zones. There is no requirement for ACMA to report disruptions, nor for companies to report them to ACMA in the first place, though there are other organisations who track this, such as the International Cable Protection Committee.

To judge if the current regime is working, we need metrics such as the number of cables disrupted by human activity in a zone compared to the number outside zones. This way, there are numbers to crunch to determine if a zone is, say, 5 percent or 50 percent safer than unprotected areas.

These numbers would also help ACMA justify the creation of new zones. Cable owners have said that ACMA should be unilaterally declaring and funding these new zones as needed.

But ACMA also has to consider the impact of imposing new regulations in an area given it would encroach on members of the public’s activities. There needs to be a demonstrable benefit to justify legislative or regulatory change.

Additionally, Schedule 3A doesn’t cater for the monitoring of the zones. Penalties only act as a deterrent if there is a perception that criminals will be caught and punished—yet this hasn’t happened. The Australian Federal Police told the 2010 review of schedule 3A that their legislative requirements didn’t extend to monitoring the zones and that, at any rate, they were not equipped to do so.

Presumably, actual patrolling of the zones is conducted by Maritime Border Command, and threats to cables are one of the many types of threats to security within its remit. Otherwise, prevention measures in the zones include cable monitoring by industry and awareness-raising activities.

ACMA recommended in 2010 to determine if monitoring is necessary in the zones. This didn’t eventuate, but it should happen. Reviewing and updating the legislation would clarify who has responsibility for monitoring the zones and strengthen the deterrent effect of the penalties.

Finally, a review would offer a chance to clarify how the 3A regime identifies a cable as one of ‘national significance’. This is the term that determines whether or not a protection zone applies, but it is a vague definition. One way to bring clarity would be to align the definition with that in the Security of Critical Infrastructure Act 2018, and other relevant legislation.

So, there is a clear case for a review. It could consider a scheme to capture metrics, determine the value and feasibility of a monitoring and enforcement regime, and look at aligning the 3A definitions and concepts to other critical infrastructure legislation.

Above all, this would make it clear to Australian carriers, international carriers contemplating an Australian landing—and indeed other countries looking to implement their own legislative regime—that Australia remains the ‘gold standard’ for cable regimes and that we are constantly looking at how best to keep undersea cables safe.

Critical technology tracker: two decades of data show rewards of long-term research investment

China and the United States have effectively switched places as the overwhelming leader in research in just two decades, ASPI’s latest Critical Technology Tracker results reveal.

The latest tracker findings, which can be found in a new report and on the website, show the stunning shift in research leadership over the past 21 years towards large economies in the Indo-Pacific, led by China’s exceptional gains. 

China led in just three of 64 technologies in the years from 2003 to 2007, but is the leading country in 57 of 64 technologies over the past five years from 2019 to 2023. This is an increase from last year’s Tech Tracker results, in which it was leading in 52 technologies. 

The US led in 60 of 64 technologies in the five years from 2003 to 2007, but in the most recent five year period, it was leading in just seven. 

Critical technologies have been on the agenda for US National Security Adviser Jake Sullivan’s visit to Beijing this week—the first visit by a US NSA since 2016. Meanwhile, dozens of countries are coming together in Australia for the third Sydney Dialogue on Monday to discuss issues around technology, security, cyber and global strategic competition.

Our results show India is also emerging as a key centre of global research innovation and excellence, establishing its position as a science and technology power. India now ranks in the top five countries for 45 of 64 technologies (an increase from 37 last year) and has displaced the US as the second-ranked country in two new technologies (biological manufacturing and distributed ledgers) to rank second in seven of 64 technologies. 

The latest Tech Tracker has updated results for 64 critical technologies from crucial fields spanning artificial intelligence, defence, space, energy, the environment, biotechnology, robotics, cyber, computing, advanced materials and quantum technology areas. The dataset has been expanded from five years of data (previously, 2018 to 2022) to 21 years of data (from 2003 to 2023).

The Tech Tracker is a data-driven website that reveals the countries and institutions—universities, national labs, companies and government agencies—leading scientific and research innovation in critical technologies. It does that by focusing on high-impact research—the top 10 percent of most highly cited papers. We focus on the top 10 percent because those publications have a higher impact on the full technology life cycle and are more likely to lead to patents, drive future research innovation and underpin technological breakthroughs.

Looking at the average share of annual global research across the 64 technologies (see Figure 1 below), shows us the astonishing inversion between the US and China in high impact research.

Figure 1: Average annual research share across the 64 technologies between 2003 and 2023.

 

China has made its new gains in quantum sensors, high-performance computing, gravitational sensors, space launch and advanced integrated circuit design and fabrication (semiconductor chip making). The US leads in quantum computing, vaccines and medical countermeasures, nuclear medicine and radiotherapy, small satellites, atomic clocks, genetic engineering and natural language processing. 

Another notable change involves the United Kingdom, which has dropped out of the top five country rankings in eight technologies, declining from 44 last year to 36 now. The technologies in which the UK has fallen out of the top five rankings are spread across a range of areas, but are mostly technologies related to advanced materials, sensing and space.

The European Union, as a whole, is a competitive technological player that can challenge the China-US duopoly. Like the US and China, the EU, when aggregating its member countries over the past five years, is in the top FIVE countries in all 64 technologies. With members of the EU aggregated over the past five years, we found that the EU leads in two technologies (gravitational force sensors and small satellites) and is ranked second in 30 technologies. 

Besides India and the UK, the performance of second-tier science and technology research powers (those countries ranked behind China and the US) in the top five rankings is largely unchanged: Germany is in the top five in 27 technologies, South Korea in 24, Italy in 15, Iran in 8, Japan also in 8 and Australia in 7.

In terms of institutions, US technology companies have leading or strong positions in AI, quantum and computing technologies. IBM now ranks first in quantum computing, Google ranks first in natural language processing and fourth in quantum computing, and Meta and Microsoft also place seventh and eighth in natural language processing respectively. The only non-US based companies that rank in the top 20 institutions for any technology are the UK division of Toshiba, which places 13th in quantum communications, and Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company, which places 20th in advanced integrated circuit design and fabrication.

Key government agencies and national labs also perform well, including the US National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA), which excels in space and satellite technologies. The results also show that the Chinese Academy of Sciences (CAS)—thought to be the world’s largest science and technology institution—is by far the world’s highest performing institution in the Tech Tracker, with a global lead in 31 of 64 technologies—an increase from 29 last year. CAS is a ministerial-level institution that sits directly under the State Council, and has spearheaded the development of China’s indigenous science, technological and innovation capabilities, including in computing technologies, nuclear weapons and intercontinental ballistic missiles. CAS also specialises in commercialising its findings and creating new companies. According to CAS, by 2022, more than 2,000 companies had been founded from the commercialisation of its scientific research.

Our report also looks at the combined US-UK-Australia performance in AUKUS pillar two-relevant technologies. It finds that combining AUKUS efforts with those of closer partners Japan and South Korea helps to close the gap in research performance for some technologies. But for others such as autonomous underwater vehicles and hypersonic detecting and tracking, China’s high impact research lead is so pronounced that no combination of other countries can currently match it. 

The graph below shows the share of research across a range of AUKUS pillar two-relevant technologies. (Please click on the image to see it full screen.)

Figure 1: Research share across a range of AUKUS Pillar 2–relevant technologies

 

We have continued to measure the risk that any country will hold a monopoly in a technology capability in the future, based on the share of high impact research output and the number of leading institutions in the dominant country—noting that for all 64 technologies, only China or the US currently has the lead. The number of technologies classified as ‘high risk’ has jumped from 14 technologies last year to 24 now. China is the lead country in every one of the technologies newly classified as high risk—putting a total of 24 of 64 technologies at high risk of a Chinese monopoly. 

Worryingly, the technologies newly classified as high risk include many with defence applications, such as radar, advanced aircraft engines, drones, swarming and collaborative robots and satellite positioning and navigation. See the below table for a small selection of critical technologies currently classified as ‘high risk’.

The new historical dataset shows the points in time at which countries have gained, lost or are at risk of losing their global edge in scientific research and innovation. It  provides a new layer of depth and context, revealing the performance trajectory countries have taken, where the momentum lies and also where longer term dominance over the full two decades might reflect foundational expertise and capabilities that carry forward even when that leader has been edged out more recently by other countries. The results also help to shed light on the countries, and many of the institutions, from which we’re likely to see future innovations and breakthroughs emerge.

In advanced aircraft engines, for example, US government or government-affiliated institutions performed strongly from 2003 to 2007—with NASA and the US Air Force Research Laboratory ranking first and second respectively—reflecting this technology’s clear relevance to military and space capability. Today, these institutions occupy much lower positions in the new rankings and 10 out of 10 of the world’s top-performing institutions are in China. 

When looking further down the science and technology life cycle, at patent data for example, our research finds there is a closer and more recent competition between the US and China but the overall trends are similar.

China’s dominant high impact research performance across so many technologies doesn’t necessarily equate to the same dominance in actualising those technologies. At times, China is ahead in high impact research because it’s actually behind in the development and commercialisation of that technology and is making major investments to try to catch up to the advances made by other countries over previous decades.

But the fact that China has enhanced its lead since last year’s Critical Technology Tracker results, especially in defence technologies, points to its growing momentum in science and technology, which other countries would be wise to assume will continue.

For some technologies, this inversion in research leadership has occurred because the high impact research output of pioneering science and technology powers such as the US, Japan, the UK and Germany has flatlined, putting them in a position where they’re losing—or at risk of losing—some of the research and scientific strengths they have built over many decades. Some of these long-term changes can be seen, for example, in the dwindling numbers of globally recognised—and sometimes Nobel Prize winning— research and development laboratories based in electronics and telecommunications firms across Europe—Philips of the Netherlands— and the US—AT&T Bell Labs previously known as Lucent Technologies or Alcatel Lucent and now as Nokia (US).

With other technologies, however, the shift is instead being driven by an enormous surge in China’s research outputs over the past 21 years. China has executed a dramatic step-up in research performance that other countries simply haven’t been able to match.

The historical strong performance of the US and other advanced economies in high impact research, which can now be tracked closely, is reflected in their sustained vitality. For example, the US shows continued innovation and leadership in key technology areas amidst immense competition, especially in quantum computing, and vaccines and medical countermeasures. This reflects its long term strengths across the full spectrum of the technology ecosystem. Decades of research effort can lead to decades of payoff in the application and commercialisation of the knowledge and expertise that a country has built up.

Measuring high-impact research, by itself, doesn’t provide a full picture of a country’s current technological or innovation competitiveness of course. Actualising and commercialising research performance into technological gains can be a difficult, expensive and complicated process, no matter how impressive the initial breakthrough. A range of other inputs are needed, such as an efficient manufacturing base and ambitious policy implementation.

But the purpose of the Tech Tracker is not to assess the current state of play but to improve global understanding of countries’ strategic intent and potential future science and technology capability.

Some observers might argue that China’s ascendance into a research power—indeed the research power—doesn’t matter because other countries, the US in particular, remain ahead in commercialisation, design and manufacturing. That might be true for some technologies, but it represents a very short term attitude. China, too, is making enormous investments in its manufacturing capabilities, subsidising key industries and achieving technological breakthroughs that are catching the world by surprise.

Our results serve as a reminder to governments around the world that building technological capability takes a sustained investment in, and accumulation of, knowledge, innovative skill, talent and high performing institutions—none of which can be acquired through only short term investments. In a range of essential sectors, democratic nations risk losing hard-won, long term advantages in cutting edge science and research—the crucial ingredient that underpins much of the development and progress of the world’s most important technologies. There’s also a risk that retreats in some areas could mean that democratic nations aren’t well positioned to take advantage of new and emerging technologies, including those that don’t exist yet. Meanwhile, the longitudinal results in the Tech Tracker enable us to see how China’s enormous investments and decades of strategic planning are now paying off.

The sugar hit of immediate budget savings must be balanced against the cost of losing the advantage gained from decades of investment and strategic planning. Strategic investments are needed in technologies that are identified as important to a country’s national interest. Continuous investments in those technology areas must then follow. And, of course, that must take place alongside complementary efforts that help build capability across the science and technology life cycle: targeted policies on issues such as skilled migration, industry reform and incentives to boost innovation, manufacturing capability and commercialisation opportunities.

Given the extent to which strategic influence will be determined by technological primacy, even the US has demonstrated that it needs trusted partners in research, innovation and industry to maintain an edge over major competitors such as China.

The Tech Tracker results show that countries can benefit from co-operation on technology by pooling their efforts and finding complementary and tangible areas in which to collaborate in an era when science and technology expertise is becoming increasingly concentrated in one country. Without bigger changes to the status quo, the trajectory laid out in this research will continue to be consolidated. 

Partners and allies must plan, act and collaborate more strategically and more ambitiously—indeed, this might be the only way to stay collectively ahead.

No, Malaysia is not moving away from the West

Australia should understand that, from Malaysia’s perspective, being closer to China does not mean moving away from Australia or the West. Premier Anwar Ibrahim’s pro-China statements should be no cause for alarm.

Misinterpreting Anwar’s actions as pro-China could provoke unnecessary tension between Australia and Malaysia and thereby weaken regional security and prosperity, not least because the two countries are partners in the Five Power Defence Arrangements (FPDA).

Writing in The Strategist, Euan Graham judges that Anwar is leaning towards China and away from the West, implying that Malaysia will be less reliable as Australia’s security partner, at least while the prime minister remains in office. Evidence includes frequent statements by Anwar and his ministers that would be agreeable to China and an absence of criticism of it.

In fact, the Anwar government’s engagement style with Beijing does not differ much from that of previous Malaysian administrations.

In 2021, when AUKUS was announced, then-Malaysian defence minister Hishammuddin Hussein stated his intention to consult Beijing about the matter. Incidentally, Anwar led the opposition party that criticised Hishammuddin for doing so. In 2016, Malaysia bought China-built warships under the premiership of Najib Razak, taking itself close to China in defence relations.

Further back, in 1974, Malaysia was the first among the five founding members of the Association of South East Asian Nations to establish diplomatic relations with China.

Given this history of close engagement, how should Australia view Malaysia’s more recent approaches towards China?

The answer lies in Malaysia’s strategic culture. Like other Southeast Asian states, Malaysia does not view its strategic environment through a binary lens. It chooses to work closely with China on specific issues and cooperate with the United States on others. Malaysia considers it possible to move closer to China without distancing itself from Australia or the West.

In its dealings with China, Malaysia prefers to adopt quiet diplomacy—a careful approach that acknowledges its limited resources in the face of China’s military might and seeks to avoid an escalation of tensions. Senior Malaysian politicians and diplomats have privately said they have resisted China behind closed doors when they thought it was threatening their nation’s interests.

Australia should know that Malaysia’s security concerns do not conflict with Australia’s. The two are aligned. Malaysian defence officials have privately said that they consider China’s military build-up and excessive maritime claims in the South China Sea to be significant security threats. Thus, Malaysia is bolstering its defence capabilities in East Malaysia, the part of the country that is closest to China’s claims in the South China Sea. Furthermore, senior officials have privately welcomed the United States’ role in countering China, indicating a shared understanding of security challenges.

In any reappraisal of Malaysia–Australia relations, it must be remembered that not only Malaysia benefits from strong bilateral ties; Australia does too. It is through the Malaysian air base at Butterworth that Australia has a military foothold in the region, conducting surveillance operations that cover parts of the Indian Ocean and Southeast Asia. Australia gained access to the base through Malaysia’s goodwill, which was in turn nurtured by Australian diplomacy.

Australia should also consider that its economic prosperity benefits indirectly from its military assistance to Malaysia. A safe and secure maritime environment is critical for Australia, as 99 percent of commodities that enter or leave the country do so by sea. The Royal Malaysian Navy, which trains with Australia in FPDA exercises, patrols the Straits of Malacca and the Sulu Sea, two critical waterways in the region.

Australia would be unwise to turn its focus away from Malaysia. Beijing would likely exploit any vacuum to assert its influence, as it did with Cambodia when the US reduced its engagement.

In its approach to the region as a whole, Australia must be uniform in its actions and words and project a coherent foreign policy. It has assessed that Southeast Asia is critical for its security, as outlined most recently in the 2023 Defence Strategic Review and the 2020 Defence Strategic Update. So its foreign policy must give the region a corresponding level of priority. Australia must invest in diplomacy and defence relations with the region.

‘Northern frontier culture’: How China is erasing ‘Mongolia’ from Mongolian culture

Chinese authorities have launched a campaign to change the term that people use to refer to Mongolian culture and to the cultural and historical heritage of the Inner Mongolia Autonomous Region (IMAR) in a move aimed at eroding Mongolian identity and sense of homeland.

The Chinese Communist Party’s new official term, bei jiang wenhua, meaning ‘northern frontier culture’, eliminates reference to Mongolians, one of China’s 56 officially recognised ethnic groups. Since July 2023, Inner Mongolia state media articles, official websites, party statements, party-organised children’s activities, and official social media posts have widely promoted the phrase. The party’s regional propaganda office has also founded an academic journal dedicated to ‘northern frontier culture’, and Inner Mongolia’s premier state-run academic institute has opened a ‘northern frontier’ research centre.

The adoption of the term appears to be part of the CCP’s growing campaign to weaken Mongolian ethnic identity and instead push a Han-centric national identity through the elimination of Mongolian language education and other measures.

Under Chinese leader Xi Jinping, the party has increasingly equated the culture and language of the dominant Han ethnic group, which comprises more than 90 percent of the country’s population, with being a loyal member of the ‘Chinese nation’ (Zhonghua minzu). It has aggressively pursued assimilationist policies throughout the country, especially in nominally autonomous regions including Xinjiang and Tibet, where the party views strong ethnic identity as a threat to its rule.

The CCP once praised Mongolians as China’s ‘model minority’ due to their early support for communist rule in exchange for recognition of the country’s first ethnic autonomous region with the right to a degree of self-governance enshrined in law—though never fully upheld. Even so, Inner Mongolia—home to more than 4 million ethnic Mongolians—has at times been the theatre of ethnic clashes between indigenous populations and the Han during decades of colonial rule, just as in other frontier regions like Tibet and Xinjiang. Clashes have broken out over land dispossession, polluting practices and discriminatory economic policies.

But in the past decade, under Xi’s leadership, the party’s tolerance for cultural, ethnic, and linguistic diversity within China has shrunk dramatically. The party shifted its focus to forcibly assimilating local populations and erasing their sense of belonging to a different ‘nationality’ (minzu).

The CCP Inner Mongolia Autonomous Region Committee, the region’s top political body, launched the ‘northern frontier culture’ campaign in July 2023. The party committee called for ‘forging a strong sense of community for the Chinese nation’ by ‘establishing the “northern frontier culture” brand, according to a meeting communique released on July 6.

All sectors of society should ‘integrate’ the brand into ‘public cultural facilities, urban landmark buildings, tourist landscape displays, public landscape construction, and into the creation of cultural and artistic works’, Li Jiong, the party secretary of the local Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference in the regional capital Hohhot, said in September 2023.

Picture: The Northern Frontier Intangible Cultural Heritage Exhibition, 20 June 2024, Hohhot, Inner Mongolia, online

 

The purpose of the ‘northern frontier culture brand’ is to ‘educate and guide the people of all ethnic groups to firmly establish a correct view of the country, history, nation, culture, and religion’, Kang Jianguo, a researcher at the state-run Inner Mongolia Academy of Social Sciences, wrote in a 17 July 2023 article published in the region’s flagship party mouthpiece Inner Mongolia Daily.

‘Northern frontier culture’ was created through the ‘intermingling’ of different ethnic groups in Inner Mongolia, a process that ‘developed and consolidated the unity of the great motherland’, Kang wrote. Kang, who is Han Chinese, was appointed the director of the academy’s new Northern Frontier Research Center a few months later.

But what the party means by ethnic blending is the triumph of Han culture and the territorial claims of the Chinese state, experts say. The campaign is a clear message that the place where ethnic Mongolians live ‘is not the Mongolian homeland but rather an integral part of the People’s Republic of China, that this region has always been a multiethnic region fused together by the Han and the Mongols and other ethnic groups’, James Leibold, professor at La Trobe University and expert in China’s politics of ethnicity, race and national identity, told the Strategist. It’s ‘essentially erasing Mongol culture and history’.

By adopting bei jiang to refer to Mongolian culture, the party is repurposing an existing term. In the past, bei jiang has most frequently referred to northern Xinjiang, part of a formulation dating back at least as early as the Qing Dynasty to distinguish between the northern and southern portions of China’s westernmost region of Xinjiang. Prior to 2022, the year leading up to the official campaign launch, the use of bei jiang to refer to Inner Mongolia was relatively rare and bei jiang wenhua to refer to Mongolian culture virtually unknown. It’s ‘new terminology’ that is ‘completely made up’, Enghebatu Togochog, director of the New York-based Southern Mongolian Human Rights Information Center, told the Strategist.

‘This is part of the bigger overarching policy of inculcating a Chinese nationality common identity,’ Togochog, who is ethnic Mongolian, said. ‘To us, this is cultural genocide.’

The term has also recently appeared in Heilongjiang, a far northern province that borders Inner Mongolia and has a very small population of ethnic Mongolians and ethnic Manchu.

The campaign has swept through the region’s museums, universities, institutes, schools, and even art shops.

Picture: Tumuji Middle School in Zalantun, Inner Mongolia, launched the ‘Northern Frontier Children’s Hearts to the Party’ June 1 celebration event, in June 2022, online

 

In October 2023, Zheng Chengyan, vice director of the Inner Mongolia Museum, wrote in an essay posted to the Inner Mongolia culture and tourism department website that ‘northern frontier culture as a regional culture has been jointly created by all ethnic groups in the northern frontier region since ancient times and is an important part of Chinese culture’.

In addition to its new studies centre, the Inner Mongolia Academy of Social Sciences hosted an academic seminar on northern frontier studies in April 2024, requiring that all research papers submitted for the conference ‘adhere to the principle of forging the sense of shared community of the Chinese nation’. The same month, the party’s regional propaganda department sponsored the establishment of a new academic journal called ‘Northern Frontier Culture Research’.

Official websites and organizations have also changed their branding to align with the campaign. The banner atop the Inner Mongolia party committee organisation department’s website now reads ‘Northern Frontier Pioneer Net’. The name on the official media accounts of the state-run Inner Mongolia Women’s Federation is now ‘The Voice of Northern Frontier Women’.

In April 2024, a junior high school in Baotou, a city in central Inner Mongolia, held a northern frontier-themed reading activity, hosted by the local party committee and education department.

Shops selling traditional Mongolian art and handicrafts seem to be a target for the campaign as well. In July 2024, the owner of a shop in Baotou selling Mongolian silver jewelry told the People’s Daily: ‘I want to do the utmost to showcase these exquisite works to more people, allowing them to appreciate the allure of northern frontier culture.’

The Chinese government has recently adopted similar terminology shifts in Xinjiang and Tibet. Chinese state media and other official communications in both English and Chinese now often refer to people in Xinjiang as ‘Xinjiang people’ (Xinjiang ren), rather than referring to their specific ethnicity such as Uyghur, Kazakh, or Han. For example, this social media post by official newspaper the Global Times refers to Uyghur children as ‘Xinjiang kids’ and ‘children in China’s Xinjiang’ rather than calling them Uyghur.

Chinese authorities have also begun using the term ‘Xizang’ instead of ‘Tibet’ — Tibetans’ preferred name for their homeland — in English-language state media and other official communications, after an official white paper issued in November 2023 used the new formulation. ‘Xizang’ is the Chinese term for the region known in English and internationally as Tibet, which is not used in Chinese. Tibetan activists say the push is part of Beijing’s attempts to weaken international recognition of a separate Tibetan identity and further assert China’s sovereignty over the region.

So far, ‘northern frontier culture’ appears almost exclusively in Chinese, with only a handful of English-language references. That suggests it is, for now, aimed at shaping the attitudes of a domestic audience, rather than a foreign audience.

Ethnic Mongolians comprise about 18 percent of Inner Mongolia’s population, with Han Chinese making up about 79 percent. While 18 percent might seem comparatively small, it amounts to more than 4 million people, which is more than the entire population of the bordering independent country of Mongolia, which has 3.5 million people. Inner Mongolia is also the last region in which traditional Mongolian script is widely used and understood. The country of Mongolia adopted Cyrillic script in 1946.

Language is a core part of the campaign—and not just when it comes to terminology. The CCP began rolling back minority language education in Xinjiang and Tibet in the 2010s. Inner Mongolia did not change its education policies during that decade, and Mongolian remained the primary language of education in many schools for Mongolian students in the region. But in 2020, the CCP expanded the plan for ‘national unified Chinese textbooks’—meaning the mandatory adoption of Chinese-language textbooks—to all regions with large minority groups, including Inner Mongolia. The change was met with the largest protests Inner Mongolia had seen in decades, which the government swiftly subdued.

‘At the start, they [the government] said they would be switching from Mongolian to Chinese for only a few select subjects, but that turned out not to be true,’ says Togochog. ‘Mongolian language is now taught as a foreign language once a week, Mongolian students and children are barred from learning any subject in Mongolian anymore.’

The plan’s roll-out was completed in October 2023, just a few months after the launch of the ‘northern frontier culture’ campaign.

‘What’s happening in Inner Mongolia,’ James Leibold said, ‘is crucial to understanding the intention of the party in continuing to carry out its settler-colonial project in the borderlands.’

20 years after the first Australian meth epidemic, another is upon us

Australian communities are teetering on the edge of a second methylamphetamine crisis that, if not addressed urgently, will lead to widespread health and safety issues.

To deal with this emerging epidemic, the Albanese government must formally recognise the findings of the latest Australian Criminal Intelligence Commission (ACIC) report on wastewater monitoring, released in July 2024, and demonstrate a commitment to decisive action.

Methylamphetamine, a potent synthetic stimulant, has a profound impact on the central nervous system of the human body. It induces heightened wakefulness, intense euphoria and increased physical activity. It poses serious health risks, including cardiovascular problems, neurotoxicity and addiction. The widespread use of methylamphetamine significantly affects Australian communities through elevated rates of crime, social disruption and an increased burden on healthcare systems.

Australia’s first methylamphetamine epidemic began in the early 2000s, with a marked increase in both the availability and use of crystal methamphetamine, commonly known as ‘ice’. The crisis peaked around 2014 to 2015, when the drug’s purity and consumption rates soared, leading to widespread public health and safety concerns.

During the first epidemic, police drug seizure data, arrest records, health reports and drug user surveys underpinned our knowledge of the scope and scale of the problem. Today, Australia has a much more effective early warning system for illicit drug epidemics: the ACIC National Wastewater Drug Monitoring Program. And this canary in the coal mine is warning us.

The wastewater monitoring program is a comprehensive surveillance initiative that systematically analyses samples to detect and quantify a range of contaminants, including pharmaceuticals and illicit substances. These samples are examined to determine the concentration of drug metabolites, from which estimates of population-scale consumption are derived based on wastewater volume, population size and substance metabolism. The program monitors trends in the use of 12 licit and illicit substances. Wastewater analysis provides essential insights for law enforcement, health agencies and policymakers, enabling them to tailor drug demand reduction and harm mitigation strategies. Continuous wastewater analysis provides the necessary quantitative data to ensure policy responses can adapt to evolving drug market trends and effectively address the impact of drug abuse on communities.

The report indicates a significant rise in methylamphetamine consumption over the past two years, with peak levels observed in regional areas across all states and territories. Western Australia, South Australia and Queensland report notably high levels. Furthermore, the December 2023 results showed the highest average consumption in capital cities since the program’s inception in 2016. Australia now ranks among the highest globally for illicit stimulant use. Its per capita consumption of methylamphetamine is second highest among 30 countries. This highlights the drug’s prominence in the Australian drug market.

This latest report emphasises the pressing need for more effective strategies to deal with the escalating challenge of methylamphetamine use in Australia.

On the supply side, the volume of methylamphetamine entering the country is staggering, with the Australian Federal Police and international partners seizing up to 49 tonnes of illicit drugs in the 2022–23 financial year. Yet, despite these seizures, consumption continues to grow. From August 2023 to April 2024, Australians consumed 17 percent more methamphetamine than in the year before and more than double the amount of cocaine.

The potential profound social and economic impacts of a second methylamphetamine epidemic, including heightened crime rates, health issues and the strain on marginalised communities, highlight the need for a significant policy shift and increased international collaboration.

The Australian approach to addressing illicit drugs is guided by its National Drug Strategy 2017–2026. It’s built on three main pillars. The first is demand reduction, which focuses on decreasing the desire for drug use through prevention and education. The second is supply reduction, which aims to limit availability of drugs by disrupting trafficking and production. The third is harm minimisation, which seeks to reduce the adverse health and social impacts of drug use on individuals and communities.

The Commonwealth Law Enforcement International Engagement Methylamphetamine Disruption Strategy complements this by focusing on four key areas:

—Understanding the global drug landscape;

—Enhancing law enforcement and border security cooperation;

—Developing targeted capacity-building initiatives; and

—Boosting advocacy and political engagement.

Despite all this good work, based on best practices, there is now clear data that we are on the verge of a second methylamphetamine epidemic and that our current approaches have not been effective at preventing this.

While health and law enforcement agencies are dedicated to implementing the National Drug Strategy, they often lack the capacity and capability to respond to emerging trends effectively. It’s time for these agencies to come together and think outside the box. We need a new, potentially more innovative strategy to tackle the growing challenge of methylamphetamine.

Before taking any policy action, it’s crucial for the government to acknowledge the existence of a problem, as this provides the foundational understanding required to develop a targeted and effective response. The Albanese government must formally recognise the implications of the latest Wastewater Monitoring Report and commit to taking action.

China’s failed first attempt to stymie the Pacific Policing Initiative

It wasn’t the perfect start for the endorsement of the Pacific Policing Initiative (PPI) on Wednesday at the Pacific Islands Forum (PIF) Leaders Meeting.

The Pacific-owned and led initiative aims to increase coordination and cooperation across the region as well as provide new training centres of excellence and deployable forces to regional crises. But concerns raised about the motives of the PPI, and Chinese attempts to influence perceptions of the initiative, failed to stymie the program or reduce its potential to deliver truly valuable assistance to the region.

Prior to the endorsement by PIF leaders, the PPI had received strong backing from several prime ministers, including Fiji’s Sitiveni Rabuka and Tonga’s Hu’akavemeiliku Siaosi Sovaleni. But then, in the midst of the forum, two other key leaders voiced concerns around the initiative’s potential to lock China out of the security space in the region. For a moment, there was uncertainty around how the PPI would progress.

Ni-Vanuatu prime minister Charlot Salwai said the Pacific needs ‘to make sure that this PPI is framed to fit our purposes and not developed to suit the geo-strategic interests and geo-strategic denial security postures of our big partners’. Director General of the Melanesian Spearhead Group, Leonard Louma, made similar comments.

The PPI is first and foremost an initiative for the Pacific by the Pacific that addresses key security needs. It responds to several statements from the region, including the Boe Declaration, PIF 2022 Communique and the 2050 Strategy for the Blue Pacific, which call for a family first approach to peace and security and regional solutions to regional security problems. The Pacific has a real need for policing cooperation, both to combat transnational crime and to address the capacity challenge the small island states face in training and maintaining their own security forces.

Greater interoperability and coordination between police across the region reduce the space and need for other external partners like China. Done right, the PPI would reflect the more principled approach desired and increased capacity for PIF members to collectively take care of their own security, something that every Pacific nation is striving for.

China, however, which is still attempting to increase its security presence across the region, would like the initiative to be perceived negatively.

Reporting on the PPI had been building prior to the PIF. The Sydney Morning Herald reported just before the meeting that the intent of the pact was to exclude China from the Pacific’s security architecture. This was promptly picked up by the Chinese Communist Party state media outlet, the Global Times, who accused Australia of pushing the initiative to exclude China.

But the Global Times has a history of trying to undermine Australia’s partnerships in the Pacific. Moreover, the statements in the article are patently overblown. The article includes the claim that the PPI ‘will grant Australia effective veto power over any possible security pact between China and the [Pacific island countries], according to the Australian report’. There was no such claim in the Sydney Morning Herald article, or anywhere else that we can find. There is no provision in the PPI agreement that undermines the sovereignty of Pacific nations or prevents engagement with China.

Multiple Pacific leaders, including PM Salwai, have visited Beijing in the months leading up to the PIF. China would likely be seeking to influence Pacific leaders on the PPI during these visits. Furthermore, Solomon Islands, who is set to host the PIF next year, reportedly attempted to remove Taiwan as an observer and development partner of the PIF. This move, in isolation, doesn’t reflect the values shared by many Pacific countries, particularly when three countries in the region maintain diplomatic ties with Taiwan. But that does not mean it is a move taken purely in isolation to other considerations.

In publicly airing a debate over geopolitics, the focus was temporarily lost on the Pacific’s real and pressing needs, and the positive architecture Australia can foster in the region. If China has its way and the PPI fails, it would ultimately hurt the development of the region.

The PPI will likely face further criticism from China, as will other initiatives that are emerging. The South Pacific Defence Ministers’ Meeting have a directive to develop a Pacific Response Group, which is a Pacific-led initiative to improve military coordination for humanitarian crises. Much like the PPI, better responses from within the region will mean less need for external partners.

Security cooperation in the Pacific cannot escape the spectre of increasing competition. Australia should lead the way in ensuring that Chinese machinations won’t impact important regional initiatives. Acknowledging competition and concerns over China doesn’t undermine Australia’s other, legitimate motives. Ignoring it, however, could lead to more awkward situations that damage Australia’s image. And when there are concerns raised by Pacific leaders, they should be addressed through open and honest dialogue.

Australia can, and should, do better than China. Both in terms of the support it provides, and in being honest and sincere in its engagement with the region to ensure that competition and influence from outside isn’t hurting its own development.

Australia-Indonesia defence relations ascend the house of stairs

When Australian Defence Minister Richard Marles signs a new bilateral Defence Cooperation Agreement today with Indonesia’s Defence Minister and president-elect Prabowo Subianto, observers would be wise to treat Australian claims of its ‘historic’ significance with caution.

Australian officials who deal with Indonesia surely tire of commentators telling them to curb their optimism. Jakarta’s limitations as a security partner, shaped by its non-aligned foreign policy and threat perceptions that diverge from Australia’s, are well known and factored in.

And yet Australia sometimes struggles with positivity bias in its inter-governmental relations with Indonesia, especially at the political level. Canberra’s desire to project optimism across such a consequential, previously fraught relationship is understandable. But this can also lend itself to amnesia and hyperbole.

Over the past decade, Australia’s efforts to elevate defence relations with Indonesia have at least managed to stay aloft. But if Canberra has escaped the vicissitudes that previously marred Australia’s interactions with Indonesia, its defence cooperation initiatives have also failed to live up to their ‘historic’ billing.

The previous 2012 defence cooperation agreement (DCA) was upgraded as recently as 2021 under Australia’s previous, Liberal-National government. This upgrade was also heralded as a historic breakthrough. Yet it is now largely forgotten.

As far back as February 2024, the current Labor government was already predicting that its plans to conclude a new, treaty-level DCA ‘would be the most significant form of defence partnership in the history of relations between Indonesia and Australia’. Notably, Indonesia’s government has been much more circumspect throughout the negotiations.

Like the work of artist M C Escher, the ‘historic steps’ of Australia’s defence relations with Indonesia seem to wind back on themselves without fundamental purpose beyond perpetual ascent. Any perceived uplift in strategic cooperation from the latest agreement is likely to prove similarly illusory.

Admittedly, it is difficult to offer a conclusive judgement when so little detail about the new agreement is publicly available. We have repeatedly been told it will have treaty status, deepen reciprocal access between the two countries armed forces and improve inter-operability through enhanced exchanges and expanded exercises.

Given Indonesia’s geographical spread across Australia’s northern approaches, Canberra has obvious reasons to pursue greater access for the Australian Defence Force. If impactful projection is to be realised, it will depend greatly on the ADF’s ability to move through the Indonesian archipelago. Peacetime rights of maritime passage and overflight, mainly on a north-south axis, are already enshrined in international law and Indonesia’s own legal declarations.

The advent of AUKUS highlighted residual sensitivity in Jakarta, in regard to Australia’s future operation of nuclear-powered submarines near Indonesia. On the other hand, the nuclear submarines of AUKUS, with their greater endurance and payloads, could bypass Indonesia in any future major conflict by moving the viable zone of operations further north. Australia’s existing diesel submarines are more suited to interdiction operations within the archipelago.

But bilateral discussions on such sensitive subjects are likely to stay well out of the public domain.

Beyond transiting through Indonesia, Australia no doubt harbours grander ambitions to use enhanced defence cooperation with Indonesia in a diplomatic shaping context, presenting this as part of a common effort to uphold the rules-based order on an Indo-Pacific level. This is where Canberra and Jakarta are most prone to seeing past each other. Prabowo’s recent statements suggest he sees a mainly neighbour-to-neighbour relationship with Australia, including stability across the long, shared maritime boundary.

The big test here, one senses, is Prabowo’s willingness to accept Australian offers of capacity building that would improve Jakarta’s maritime domain awareness and ability to control its vast archipelagic sea and exclusive economic zone, including monitoring the increasing and sometimes undetected presence of China’s navy on and an under the water.

Australia is likely to view Prabowo’s elevation from defence minister to president as a helpful point of continuity, centring defence ties within the bilateral relationship. He is well known to Australia. But Prabowo also remembers Australia’s potential to be a thorn in Indonesia’s underbelly from his own military experiences in East Timor. Papua remains a latent but potent source of Indonesian suspicion towards Australia, which Canberra can only do so much to mitigate.

Inter-operability has some practical meaning in the military relationship. At the lower end of capability, Indonesia’s armed forces already use Bushmaster vehicles, while at the higher end, Australia’s operation of F-35As in exercises in Indonesia demonstrates increased trust and confidence, especially between the two air forces. But one significant constraint on inter-operability is likely to be Prabowo’s ambition to boost defence cooperation with Russia, affirmed on his recent trip to Moscow. In this context, Australia’s intelligence community will also be following Prabowo’s expressed intention to cooperate with Russia on civil nuclear energy.

Indonesia’s sometime prickly protectiveness of its sovereignty may constrain its defence cooperation with China, particularly if Beijing overplays its hand in the South China Sea. But Prabowo is also pursuing deeper defence links with China, in parallel to those with Australia. The more porous Indonesia becomes to Chinese and Russian strategic influences, the greater Australia’s difficulty in developing meaningful depth to the defence relationship with it.