The other proliferation

Mention ‘proliferation’ and most people will assume that you are talking about the spread of nuclear weapons. For good reason. Nine countries—China, France, India, Israel, North Korea, Pakistan, Russia, the United States and the Britain—possess them. But many more have the ability and conceivably the motive to produce them. There is also the danger that terrorist groups could obtain one or more of these weapons, enabling them to inflict horrific damage.

This sort of proliferation is often described as ‘horizontal’. The biggest immediate focus remains Iran, which has dramatically reduced the time it would require to develop one or more nuclear devices. An Iran with nuclear weapons might use them. Even if not, it might calculate that it could safely coerce or attack Israel or one or more of its Arab neighbours directly, or thorough one of its proxies, with non-nuclear, conventional weapons.

A nuclear-armed Iran would likely trigger a regional arms race. Several of its neighbours, particularly Saudi Arabia, Egypt, the United Arab Emirates and Turkey, might well develop or acquire nuclear weapons of their own. Such a dynamic would further destabilise the world’s most troubled and volatile region.

But as important as this scenario is, another type of proliferation now merits attention: vertical proliferation, namely, increases in the quality and/or quantity of the nuclear arsenals of the nine countries that already possess these weapons. The danger is not only that nuclear weapons might be used in a war but also that the possibility of war would increase by emboldening governments—like Iran in the scenario above—to act more aggressively in pursuit of their geopolitical goals in the belief that they may act with impunity.

The fastest-growing nuclear arsenal in the world today belongs to China. China appears to believe that if it can match the US in this realm, it can deter the US from intervening on Taiwan’s behalf during any crisis over the island. China is on pace to catch up to the US and Russia in a decade and is showing no interest either in participating in arms-control talks that would slow down its buildup or placing a ceiling on its capabilities.

Then there is North Korea. Neither economic sanctions nor diplomacy has succeeded in curtailing its nuclear program. North Korea is now thought to possess more than 50 warheads. Some are on missiles with intercontinental range and improving accuracy. Both China and Russia have assisted it and further Russian assistance is likely given North Korea’s provision of weapons to Russia for use in Ukraine.

Again, the question is not only what North Korea might do with its nuclear arsenal. It is not farfetched to imagine a North Korean attack on South Korea or even Japan using conventional forces, coupled with a nuclear-backed threat to the US not to intervene. It is precisely this possibility that is fuelling public pressure in South Korea to develop nuclear weapons, demonstrating that vertical proliferation can trigger horizontal proliferation, especially if countries currently protected by the US come to doubt America’s willingness to put itself at risk to defend them.

Russia offers another reason for worry. Russia and the US have the world’s two largest nuclear arsenals. Both are constrained by arms-control agreements, such as the New START Treaty, that limits the number of nuclear warheads that each can deploy to 1,550. Additional warheads may be kept in storage, though.

The agreement also limits how many launchers—planes, missiles and submarines—carrying nuclear weapons can be fielded. And the pact also includes various arrangements to facilitate verification so that the two governments can be confident that the other is complying.

New START, which was ratified in 2011 and extended several times since, is due to expire in February 2026. Russia might well refuse to extend the treaty again, possibly because the performance of its armed forces in Ukraine has left it more dependent than ever on its nuclear arsenal. Or it may seek to barter its willingness to continue abiding by the agreement for US concessions on Ukraine.

What worries Washington is not only what Russia might do but also that the US now faces three adversaries with nuclear weapons who could coordinate their policies and pose a unified nuclear front in a crisis. All this is prompting the US to rethink its own nuclear posture.

In March, the US government reportedly completed its periodic review of its nuclear forces. At a minimum, billions of dollars will be spent on a new generation of bombers, missiles and submarines. At worst, we could be entering an era of unstructured nuclear competition.

It all adds up to a dangerous moment. The taboo associated with nuclear weapons has grown weaker with time; few were alive when the US used nuclear weapons twice against Japan to hasten World War II’s end. Indeed, Russian officials have hinted strongly at their readiness to use nuclear weapons in the context of the war in Ukraine.

Nuclear weapons played a stabilising role during the Cold War. Arguably, their existence helped keep it cold. But there were only two decision-makers, and each had an inventory that could survive a first strike by the other, enabling it to retaliate in kind, thereby strengthening deterrence. And both sides mostly acted with a degree of caution, lest their competition escalate to direct conflict and precipitate a disastrous nuclear exchange.

Three and a half decades after the Cold War’s end, a new world is emerging, one characterised by nuclear arms races, potential new entrants into an ever less exclusive nuclear-weapons club and a long list of deep disagreements over political arrangements in the Middle East, Europe and Asia. This is not a situation that lends itself to a solution, but at best to effective management. One can only hope the leaders of this era will be up to the challenge.

As tools for hybrid threats, apps like Telegram must be accountable

The arrest of Telegram founder Pavel Durov in France has underscored the urgent need for more regulation of messaging and social media platforms that can be exploited for hybrid operation by both states and non-state groups. 

Once celebrated as the ultimate tool for free communication thanks to its encryption and lax moderation practices, Telegram now stands accused by French authorities of facilitating criminal activities and possibly being exploited for hybrid threats, particularly by Russian state actors. Hybrid threats blend military force with non-military tactics including cyberattacks and disinformation. 

To counter these threats, policymakers around the world must prioritise regulation, platform accountability, and the promotion of alternative platforms that are less susceptible to misuse, while also protecting free speech. It’s a delicate balancing act. 

Telegram’s role in such hybrid operations, particularly in the context of Russian state-backed activities, have become increasingly evident. The platform has been used not only for legitimate private communication but also as a tool for spreading disinformation, propaganda, and extremist content. This is particularly concerning in conflict zones such as Ukraine, where Telegram has 7 million users, including government officials and opinion leaders. 

Despite Durov’s claim that his platform is not backed by the Kremlin, Telegram’s financial ties to Russian oligarchs and state-controlled entities suggest otherwise. Investments from figures such as Roman Abramovich and Sergey Solonin—both of whom are linked to the Russian government—raise significant concerns about the platform’s susceptibility to state influence.  

This financial entanglement is alarming given Telegram’s extensive reach across Eastern Europe, Central Asia, and the Middle East—regions that are subject to Russian hybrid operations. 

The Russian government’s 2018 attempt to block Telegram and the app’s purported relocation to Dubai may have been a strategic façade, giving cover to Telegram channels that promote pro-Russia narratives including glorifying separatists, justifying the invasion of Ukraine and spreading extremist propaganda—some of which reportedly fuelled the recent anti-immigration riots in the UK.  

This manoeuvre preserved the illusion of Telegram’s independence while keeping it accessible for Kremlin use, which aligns with Russia’s hybrid strategy. It’s an entirely understandable tactic; using disinformation to weaken adversaries either as an alternative or as a complement to military confrontation is a cost-effective approach. 

Claims that Telegram’s servers and data centres are located in Russia, and are therefore subject to Russian laws, raised doubts about the platform’s pleas of independence. This raises serious security concerns, particularly for users who challenge the Russian government or operate in conflict zones where hybrid tactics are prevalent. 

Democracies must take proactive steps to mitigate these risks. First, they should enforce stringent regulations that require transparency in how messaging platforms operate and how they manage user data. This includes clear guidelines on privacy, content moderation, data storage, and co-operation with law enforcement, ensuring that platforms cannot be easily exploited by malicious actors. 

Second, governments and civil society should promote the use of alternative messaging platforms that prioritise transparency and accountability. Platforms like Signal, which offer end-to-end encryption and operate with a commitment to user privacy without the financial entanglements seen in Telegram, can serve as safer alternatives. This is particularly relevant for government officials and in sensitive sectors, for whom using encrypted messaging tools that are based in their own country or another trusted nation can reduce the risks. 

Finally, enhancing media literacy and public awareness about the risks of disinformation is crucial. Educating users on how to identify and counteract disinformation campaigns can help build resilience against these types of hybrid threats. This approach should be coupled with efforts to develop and promote technologies that can detect and mitigate the spread of false information on digital platforms. 

As messaging platforms become increasingly central to both communication and conflict, the lessons from Telegram’s rise and its connections to Russian interests underscore the importance of transparency, regulation, and the promotion of secure, accountable platforms.  

More stringent regulations for digital platforms can be implemented to ensure their transparency in content regulation policy, ownership, legal regimes and data storage. The world can learn from, among others, Germany’s Network Enforcement Act (NetzDG), which requires social media platforms to remove illegal content promptly or face significant fines. 

The European Union’s Digital Services Act (DSA) compels large online platforms to assess and mitigate risks related to the dissemination of illegal content, disinformation, and other harmful activities. Similarly, the United States’ Communications Decency Act Section 230 was established to hold platforms accountable for the content they host while preserving free speech. In Australia, regulation includes the Online Safety Act 2021 and Digital Platform Regulators Forum.  

While the global community has been arguably too slow to hold messaging and social media platforms accountable, these steps towards greater government action reflect a positive shift towards better oversight. The Telegram episode serves as a reminder of the importance for democracies to guard against multifarious hybrid threats and implement measures tailored to their unique security concerns.

  • The Strategist is running a short series of articles in the lead up to ASPI’s Sydney Dialogue on September 2 and 3. The event will cover key topics in critical, emerging and cyber technologies, including hybrid threats, disinformation, electoral interference, artificial intelligence, clean technologies and more.

Australia’s national security community needs to become more culturally diverse

Australia’s national security community must do more to advance the culturally and linguistically diverse (CALD) make-up of its workforce, because increasing the diversity of perspectives in thinking would improve Australia’s strategic acumen.

As a nation, Australia is considered by many to be a multicultural success story, with more than 250 ancestries represented and 350 languages spoken in Australian homes, according to the last census. Our cultural diversity has enriched the political, social and economic landscape of Australia and its interactions with the rest of the world.

The national security community has benefited from the intercultural and multilingual skills possessed by many CALD Australians by allowing them to help Australia navigate an increasingly complex international environment. This is why Foreign Minister Penny Wong in a recent address at the Australian National University (ANU) called our diversity a ‘national asset’.

In order to better capture this capability, the Australian Public Service (APS) Culturally and Linguistically Diverse (CALD) Strategy announced in April provides a pathway for ensuring that government, including national security-related agencies, can better integrate the perspectives, knowledge and skills of CALD Australians to achieve better outcomes.

Despite these advantages, the available employment data suggests that CALD Australians are underrepresented in the national security community.

The strategy highlights that no APS agency has CALD representation at the senior executive level proportional to its cultural diversity at lower levels. The primary stated reasons were discrimination, unconscious bias and racism. Similarly, a 2019 survey of members of the International Studies Association showed that scholars of colour reported greater rates of feeling unwelcome and experiencing harassment. One scholar of colour felt that the situation was so dire because ‘there’s no way for women, scholars of colour and other underrepresented minorities to have a chance at leadership.’

Greater representation across the APS matters, not only because it allows the federal government to be better reflected by its own population but because it is a key tool in formulating more effective government strategy. Diverse high-performing teams tend to be stronger, create better policies, discover critical research conclusions, show better critical thinking skills and make better decisions. In doing so, they create positive iterative cycles with others, enabling them to make better decisions themselves.

Doing the opposite, however, worsens blind spots when responding to current and emerging security threats in Australia and the Indo-Pacific. What is rational to us might be completely irrational to another, and vice versa.

Before the APS CALD strategy, this effort was executed in a varied and uneven manner, often subject to change. As outlined, many organisations undertook their own actions, but more needs to be done to increase public accountability and their overall effectiveness. As a means to increase the awareness, importance and value of this view, the wider national security community should use the APS CALD strategy as a model to increase the transparency of their own cultural diversity initiatives.

There are several ways in which the broader national security community can build on existing programs aimed at addressing the unique challenges faced by many CALD Australians.

The first is through data collection. Data is needed to comprehensively understand the issues around CALD underrepresentation in the national security community. Current proxies, such as country of birth and first language spoken, alone are inadequate in fully understanding the cultural and linguistic diversity of Australian workplaces.

Tailored programs are needed next. CALD-related initiatives created in response to the findings of data analysis need to be introduced. This includes sponsorship, mentoring and leadership programs that are specifically focused on addressing the barriers faced by CALD individuals in national security. One promising initiative is the National Security College and ASPI’s joint WiNspire mentoring program, which has paired ANU students from CALD backgrounds with emerging or established female leaders in the national security community.

Finally, the integration of an intersectional lens. All national security programs aimed at increasing CALD inclusion need to adopt an intersectional approach. Intersectionality refers to the different aspects of a person’s identity that may expose him or her to overlapping forms of discrimination. For example, the discussions at the regularly held Women of Colour Public Sector Leadership and Allyship Summit offer a space to hear the challenges faced by CALD women in Australian public sector workplaces.

To be an effective security actor in the region in the future, Australia must increase the diverse perspectives in its strategic thinking. Poor representation in the national security community, including of CALD Australians, not only harms national security performance; it can also send the wrong message to our international security partners and be perceived as hypocritical to the values of equality and fairness that we proudly advocate.

Australia’s history and culture is diverse, and it stands to gain significantly from greater CALD representation and inclusion. In doing so, it can only improve the outcomes we want from our national security and intelligence agencies.

South Korea’s impressive force of cruise and ballistic missiles

South Korea’s force of indigenously developed ballistic and cruise missiles may be the most underappreciated set of weaponry in Asia.

With little publicity, this strike-missile capability has been growing for decades, and it’s poised to surge following the end of a deal in which Washington and Seoul agreed to limits on what South Korea could develop.

South Korea has a family of Tomahawk-like cruise missile designs that can fly as far as 1500km against land targets. It also has a variety of ballistic missile types of increasing range and payload capacity, with one forthcoming weapon to be capable of submarine launch and another, for land-launch, with a range in the intermediate category, meaning 3000km to 5500km.

Official statements from Seoul consistently present the far-reaching strike-missile capability in terms of retaliation against North Korea, even though no part of that country is farther than 500km from the border with South Korea.

The specific policy that the strike missiles are said to serve is Korean Massive Punishment and Retaliation, which would target such facilities as underground command centres and nuclear missile sites. National Defence Minister Shin Won-sik embellished that policy in October with one of his own called ‘Punish Immediately, Strongly and Until the End.’

‘If the enemy carries out military provocations, first, punish them immediately; second, punish them strongly; third, punish them until the very end,’ he said. South Korea could deter North Korea’s provocations if Pyongyang felt it had more to lose than to gain from attacking, he added.

South Korea’s indigenous cruise missiles share the family name Hyunmoo 3 and have progressed through successive versions (or types) called Hyunmoo 3A, 3B and 3C. They probably offer high precision, and are well-suited for counter-force targets such as military installations, critical infrastructure and command and control systems. Hyunmoo 3D is reportedly in development. These weapons can be launched from trucks or ships.

The Haesung 2 is a supersonic cruise missile for launching from ships.

Whereas cruise missiles fly like aeroplanes—sometimes very low, to avoid defences—ballistic missiles fly high and descend at enormous speed, which makes them hard to shoot down. They’re usually not as precise as cruise missiles, but their warheads can be very heavy, and the velocity of their arrival helps them penetrate earth and concrete.

The former agreement that the United States imposed in 1979 limited South Korean ballistic missile payloads to 500kg and ranges to 180km. The payload limit was removed in 2017 and the range limit in 2021.

The US agreed in 2020 that South Korea could develop space launchers with solid propellant. Such a rocket or its technology could be adapted to create an intermediate-range ballistic missile, especially since South Korea, already having medium-range types, has no immediate need for more of them. South Korea successfully tested a solid-propellant space rocket in 2022.

Scrapping of warhead restrictions has enabled South Korea to develop ballistic missiles that can carry heavier warheads to penetrate tunnels and destroy underground missile storage chambers. Such capability strongly supports its position in the military balance on the Korean Peninsula.

This year South Korea said it had developed and successfully tested the Hyunmoo V ballistic missile, which will reportedly carry independently targetable re-entry vehicles and manoeuvrable re-entry vehicles. The Hyunmoo 5 may have a range of 3000km and is termed a ‘monster missile’. South Korea is also focused on developing hypersonic glide vehicles, which present different challenges to defenders and could be launched by a missile such as Hyunmoo 5.

Hyunmoo 5 may be carried by an arsenal ship, whose purpose would be to serve as a mobile magazine and launcher, not as a combat vessel. Hyunmoo 5 also reportedly uses the cold launch method, improving its survivability.

The Hyunmoo 4-4 submarine-launched ballistic missile is under development. Weapons of that category are even harder to hit before launch than those carried in surface ships. Seoul is also working on a ship-to-surface ballistic missile with features similar to those of Hyunmoo 4-4.

Back on land, South Korea’s short-range ballistic missiles of the Hyunmoo 2 family can be viewed as strategic as well as tactical, because they could reach any target in North Korea.

Against all this, North Korea has only weak defences, though it is trying to modernise them. Its other countermeasure is attempting to destroy South Korean missiles before they are launched, though that task becomes much harder if they move on ships or submarines.

Australia’s international counter-terrorism efforts need reinvigorating

Australia’s international engagement on terrorism has diminished markedly since counter-terrorism successes in neighbouring Indonesia and the Philippines, Australia’s withdrawal from Afghanistan in 2021, the winding down of the global war on terrorism and the reduction in our domestic terror threat level in 2022. 

At one level this makes sense, with priority given to the re-emergence of state-on-state conflict and strategic competition. But Australia must not revert to a past era in which governments only manage one security threat at a time and mistake the temporary decline of terrorist groups such as al Qaeda and ISIS as ‘mission accomplished’ rather than threats that are permanently evolving. 

Let’s not fall for the trap of thinking that terrorism is dead. The end of the Cold War was not the end of history; trade with Russia and China didn’t stop them from interfering with or invading other nations; and success against ISIS and al Qaeda hasn’t heralded an era without terrorist groups seeking to do us harm. 

Ironically, it was the emergence of terrorism after September 11 that kept democracies like Australia’s from tackling the threats posed by Moscow and Beijing, including foreign interference and cyber attacks. Now the need to counter authoritarian regimes as the top security priority is impacting policymaking associated with other threats, including terrorism.  

The mistakes we have made since the end of the Cold War must finally be learned: the use of force and violence in breach of international rules and norms—whether by authoritarian states or by terrorist groups—is encouraged by inaction and is only constrained by strengthening national resilience and international collaboration. 

It is concerning, therefore, that recent ‘machinery of government’ changes to Australia’s CT arrangements failed to address the critical mechanisms for co-ordinating our international efforts.  

ASIO’s recent raising of the terror level increased Australians’ awareness of the threat. But terrorism is not just domestic. Australians abroad have always been more likely to be victims of terrorism. And instability in other countries enables terrorist groups to use ungoverned spaces to plot attacks, including against Australia. 

The global nature of terrorism, along with Australia’s international commitments, mean we must reassess and reinvigorate our international CT efforts. A CT strategy, promised by former Home Affairs Minister Clare O’Neil, would be an ideal mechanism. But two years on, we are yet to see it, which is perplexing given the troubling trend of global instability since it was promised, including Hamas’s attack on Israel and the ensuing Middle East conflict, a rise in terrorist activity across Africa, ongoing division in Europe and the recent thwarting of a terror plot targeting a Taylor Swift concert in Vienna, as well as increasing online radicalisation. 

This month also marks the third anniversary of the Taliban’s takeover of Afghanistan. Fears of that country again deteriorating into a sanctuary for terrorist organisations are firming, with reports of al Qaeda’s growth and Islamic State-Khorasan Province’s increasing ability and intent to project terror beyond Afghanistan’s borders. One of the key lessons from ISIS’s rise in Syria and Iraq is that terrorists thrive in ungoverned spaces. We cannot allow these groups to lay claim once again in a Taliban-led Afghanistan. We have seen that script before. 

Nor can we afford to become victims of our own CT success. While we have passed high water marks such as the Islamic State caliphate, terrorism is an enduring problem that has metastasised and fragmented. At present, we are not at a historical terrorism peak, but the conditions that drove those periods remain. 

The experience of the past two decades in international CT efforts underscores the fact that relationships and capacity-building cannot be stop-start affairs and require nurturing and processes that are built up over time.  

Following the 2002 Bali Bombing, Australia became adept in its international CT efforts both regionally and globally. Through intelligence-sharing, police co-operation and dialogues, and diplomacy, Australia advanced its capacity and capability, and those of its partners, to respond to terrorism proactively. 

But after years of taking a leadership role in international CT, Australia has dropped back, putting us at a disadvantage—and potentially leading to reduced influence in global CT efforts, reputational damage, decreased access to critical intelligence and resources, and a weakened ability to respond to international terrorism threats.  

A healthy intelligence and law enforcement community is vital, but it should not be expected to run security policy or co-ordination. Yet a brief examination of Australia’s current international CT arrangements reveals a dangerous uncertainty about who is in charge, as well as resource constraints. 

The CT Ambassador’s office, within the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade, has seen a reduction in both size and budget, affecting its influence offshore at a time when international terrorism is on the rise and, critically, when Australia’s CT diplomacy is needed.  

The CT Coordinator, sitting within the Department of Home Affairs, is at once isolated from the key operational agencies of ASIO and AFP, separated from the international agenda undertaken by the CT Ambassador, and is also the Co-ordinator for Counter Foreign Interference. How does the one officer co-ordinate Australia’s two principal security threats? And just what are the connections between the two policy areas? 

Global engagement on security policy with counterparts is crucial to Australia’s safety. Without a National Security Adviser we are not at that international table – and if there are simultaneous meetings of terrorism and foreign interference, which one is prioritised by Australia? 

Furthermore, our dedicated global CT presence—encompassing law enforcement, intelligence and diplomatic efforts—has significantly diminished, with its reach retreating in key countries from Pakistan to Indonesia. Previous successes in regional and global CT capacity development, exemplified by mechanisms such as the Jakarta Centre for Law Enforcement Co-operation, were once highly esteemed by our international partners. However, these achievements are now at risk due to staffing and funding constraints. 

As the threat of terrorism and politically motivated violence continues to evolve, so too must Australia’s CT efforts—both domestic and international. A cohesive and well-coordinated approach to CT is essential to Australia’s and Australians’ security and safety.  

Let’s not wait for the next wave of terrorism before we restore the resources and influence of the CT Ambassador and Coordinator. The era of tackling one problem at a time is gone—we must and can counter all security threats to our country, our citizens and our national interests.

The conflict goes on, but no party desires an all-out Middle East war

Another round of Israel-Hezbollah tit-for-tat attacks is over for now, but the danger of an all-out war continues to haunt the Middle East. Both sides have said that despite their reluctance to escalate, they are prepared for it.

It is nearly 11 months since Hamas’s declaration of war on Israel on 7 October 2023. With no end in sight to that war, the Middle East has been teetering on the edge of a regional conflict whose scope and intensity could be more devastating than any since the 1967 and 1973 Israeli-Arab wars.

In a new war, Israel is set to be confronted not by Arab state armies, but by the Islamic Republic of Iran and its regional network of affiliates, the Lebanese Hezbollah, the Syrian regime and the Yemeni Houthis in particular. With the United States acting as Israel’s security guarantor, and its global adversaries in China and Russia as well as North Korea supporting Iran, there is little chance of confining the impact of the war to the regional antagonists alone.

All parties in the current conflict are aware of the magnitude of such a scenario, and this has so far deterred them from allowing the conflict to expand into a regional confrontation. Yet, the situation is unsustainable in the medium to long run.

Israel cannot continue to ensure its security and durability based on the indefinite repressive occupation of the Palestinian territories, even with the power of the United States behind it. Israel has already experienced windows of vulnerability in the face of Hamas’s resistance, Hezbollah’s attacks and Iran’s retaliatory actions. Israel’s pre-emptive and assertive military actions have done little or nothing to maximise its security and well-being over the long-term. The country’s people have increasingly been living in fear and uncertainty; its national cohesion, economy, social services and technological edge have suffered significantly.

Without America’s all-round help, Israel is no longer in a position to defend itself against Iran and its allies on its own. As the only nuclear-armed state in the region, Israel possesses the ultimate weapons of deterrence and destruction. But Iran is now a threshold nuclear power.

The United States’ unwavering commitment has been critical in empowering Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and his extremist ministers to maintain their catastrophic Gaza operations, tighten Israel’s hold on the Palestinian lands and engage in frequent applications of disproportionate force in the name of improving Israel’s security at the cost of widespread global condemnation and isolation.

Israel’s current circumstances do not inspire much confidence about its future. This will remain so, unless there is a change of leadership and policy direction. Instead of focusing on occupation, territorial expansion and warfare, there should be an understanding that Israel’s security and well-being are intertwined with those of the Palestinians within a two-state solution.

Similarly, Iran is not in a strong position to ignite a regional conflict. Under Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, Iran’s severe political, economic and social challenges do not leave it in a state to engage in such a conflict. Iran’s own foreign policy complications, resulting partly from mismanagement and partly from US and Israeli actions, including crippling American sanctions, minimise its choices. Meanwhile, hostility with Israel and the US, involving former president Donald Trump’s revocation of the July 2015 Iran nuclear agreement, has driven Tehran to accelerate its very costly support of regional affiliates and its nuclear program.

Despite all its difficulties, Tehran cannot be expected to remain passive in the face of Israeli actions such as the assassination of Hamas’s political leader, Ismail Haniyeh, in Tehran on 31 July. Iran has reserved the right to retaliate, but in a manner and timing of its own choosing. It has linked its action to a Gaza ceasefire and Israel exhausting itself in the Strip and on the border with Hezbollah. In the event of a ceasefire not materialising, the Gaza killing fields persisting and the Israel-Hezbollah border confrontation expanding, Tehran will retaliate, most likely in a limited and targeted way, although somewhat bigger than its retaliation in April. Its act would simply be for deterrence and national pride purposes.

Given the precarious state of Israel, and Iran and Washington’s reluctance to see an all-out Middle East war, especially while the US is in the run-up to a presidential election, there is a strong case against, rather than for, a regional war. Yet, the Middle East has always proved to be a very unpredictable region where conflicts, limited or expanded, can­ —and do—break out at any time.

Biosecurity for food security

This week is Australia’s inaugural National Biosecurity Week (NBW). The event serves as a vital reminder of the importance of safeguarding our nation’s unique ecosystems and agricultural industries from harmful pests and diseases, underscoring our collective responsibility to preserve Australia’s natural heritage for future generations. Biosecurity is a fundamental enabler for Australia’s food security, a critical but often overlooked element of our national security, and it is time for it to be treated accordingly.

Australia’s biosecurity system is one of the most formidable yet largely unseen and unappreciated elements of our national defence, one that even has the power to compel great powers into compliance when conducting exercises in Australian territory. Most of us interact consciously with the system only when we re-enter the country and fill out our incoming passenger declarations. This interaction represents the tip of a system that cuts across every level of government and society.

It is this tip that is safeguarded by biosecurity arrangements designed to halt exotic pests and pathogens from breaching Australia’s borders. Producers and governments face costs in a breach, and prices rise. We see this now with recent egg purchase restrictions due to the H7 high pathogenicity avian influenza outbreak, which is likely to cost industries and governments more than $100 million. When the primary driver of domestic food insecurity has been the cost of living, that financial impact ultimately increases food prices that only expand the cohort of food-insecure Australians, leading to suffering and discontent.

Varroa mite, fall armyworm, foot-and-mouth disease (FMD) virus, Xylella fastidiosa, and citrus canker are only the best known among many pests and pathogens that threaten Australian primary production. Australia suffers about 40 new pest incursions every year, and some intruders, like fall armyworm and varroa mite, are now here to stay. Others, such as FMD and Xylella, have been kept out, but should they breach our borders, their impact would be devastating to livestock and plant production industries and the broader economy. The range of exotic pathogens beyond our borders is significant, and many are unheard of by most Australians. They remain unfamiliar because of a combination of luck and a biosecurity system under increasing pressure; the recent incursions of fall armyworm and varroa mite demonstrate that vulnerability.

It is this system that protects and enhances much of Australia’s national power through the protection of our way of life and hundreds of billions worth of economic benefits to the Australian economy. By underpinning our food security, it underpins fundamental pillars of social order, sustainability and national security. To safeguard it, Australia’s biosecurity arrangements must be fiercely protected and enhanced.

But taking biosecurity for granted surrenders to the strategic naivety that has left the world ill-prepared for crises previously considered preventable. A global pandemic, war in Europe, the spectre of nuclear war, kinetic war between Middle Eastern powers and increasing climate threats are all features of our contemporary reality. These threats demand that we avoid strategic missteps by not ignoring the factors that enable them and avoid the agonising between government and industry over what constitutes sustainable resourcing that is leaving the biosecurity system’s future in the balance. That uncertainty is stifling progress on implementing the 2022 National Biosecurity Strategy, a document released with the endorsement of the Australian government and all states and territories.

A strategic and coordinated approach matters because the system protects our heavily trade-oriented agricultural industry’s contribution to global food security via a production surplus far above domestic demand. However, this surplus is also the source of a misguided assumption that Australian food security is guaranteed.

Food security is defined by the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization as: ‘when all people, at all times, have physical, social and economic access to sufficient, safe and nutritious food that meets their dietary needs and food preferences for an active and healthy life.’ Under these terms, the Foodbank Hunger Report 2023 found that 36 percent of Australians faced food insecurity in 2023, underscoring the socioeconomic factors at play. Similarly, the number of food-insecure people worldwide has increased since 2020, driven by conflict, climate shocks, economic downturn, growing inequality and Covid-19. Complacency in addressing food security will only drive strategic challenges that contribute to instability and armed conflict.

In this way, the system is equally affected by the same pressures as Australia’s defence organisation. It bears a similar responsibility to protect Australia’s national interest. It therefore must be valued as such and should become subject to the same conventions: that is, to fund the system as a percentage of GDP that reflects its true value to our economy, our environment, our food security and our way of life.

There will always be many competing priorities, but if we are serious about returning to fundamentals to enhance Australia’s national power, our biosecurity system must be accepted as a pillar of our national security.

Like the US, Australia remains badly unprepared for drone threats

Prominent security failures have demonstrated that even nations regarded as the most well-equipped to handle domestic threats are wildly unprepared to deal with drones as tools of surveillance and direct attack.

In countries such as Australia and the United States, drones are not being detected, and, even if they are, authorities and defence forces are not equipped for economically and safely destroying them.

There’s no greater example of failure to handle drones than the 13 July assassination attempt on former US president Donald Trump. Intending killer Thomas Matthew Crooks used a drone to survey the area before pulling the trigger. Poor cellular connectivity has been blamed for the Secret Service’s inability to detect that drone and prevent its reconnaissance mission.

Similarly, Chinese national Fengyun Shi plead guilty in July to espionage charges for flying drones around US shipyards and submarines in the past months.

Drones—both small consumer-grade devices and larger units—continue to target sensitive locations globally despite efforts to regulate their use. While Australia is far from geopolitical conflicts and hostile environments, these examples reflect just how easily a nefarious actor can carry out surveillance.

And, as the war in Ukraine has shown, it’s not a long stretch for someone to escalate surveillance into a direct attack by attaching a plastic charge or similar substance to a cheap drone, particularly where highly valuable and confidential assets are concerned.

Since April, the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation and Australian police have investigated eight such cases for connections to terrorism, with intelligence officials worrying that social media is amplifying political volatility, particularly among youth. Intelligence officials describe the current sentiment as ‘lawful, awful and unhelpful’ and believe there is a heightened risk of lone-wolf attacks in crowded places. Intelligence agencies have reportedly said such attacks will be ‘low cost, locally financed and use readily acquired weapons with relatively simple tactics’. Should an attack happen, the devastation will far outweigh the price of the weapons used.

In the north of Australia, while the federal government is pushing ahead with upgrades to bases and airfields as part of its 2024 National Defence Strategy, these installation are generally even more exposed to the threats posed by drones by the simple arithmetic that they are protected by fewer individuals because of their remoteness. With fewer personnel, there is less capacity for traditional methods of drone spotting, let alone the most effective ones, to the point that personnel are reliant on visual tools alone. The problem will only become more widespread for Australia as we build and host more sensitive installations. Should the new facilities for submarines obtained through the AUKUS agreement fail to detect and thwart drones going near them, the outcome could be catastrophic.

It wasn’t much more than 12 months ago that sources inside the Australian Defence Force advised that they couldn’t confidently determine whether, when or how many drones were flying too close to assets or within restricted areas. Since my conversations at that time, little has changed.

Unfortunately, in most cases, old-hat methods of sensing and preventing drone intrusions come down to manual spotting and hard-kill capabilities. And they’re entirely impractical.

The first issue is that most drones go unseen. The inability to automate detection, particularly for more expensive drones that operate out of eyesight and earshot, welcomes surveillance and espionage. Detection, particularly once laced with artificial intelligence built to see and hear drones at long distances, is far more capable than a human alone. It allows alerts to be issued well before a threat becomes visible or audible to a lone human, triggering a rapid response long before a threat can cause damage.

The second problem is the mindset that we can simply shoot down anything that may pose a threat, whether that’s with live rounds or lasers. Economics and logistical constraints suggest relying on bullets or kinetic counter-drone weapons to stop drones is neither affordable nor effective, as it will take tens of thousands of dollars to take down a drone worth a few hundred dollars. The costs skyrocket when considering the risk of collateral damage from those weapons as well. Firing rotary cannons near our future nuclear submarine bases is not an option.

But even in the case a drone is stopped through traditional means, taking it down often results in a dead end. Drones are popular among nefarious actors because they are disposable. That doesn’t do much for Australia’s ability to determine who’s behind an incursion, where they are located, the information they have collected, and whether there is a broader risk at play on which to act. It’s this type of intelligence that could have alerted the US Secret Service to Crooks preparing his position, or to ensuring that an infantry unit knows a drone is nearby on the battlefield.

As legislation pushes forward, from the Defence Strategic Review to the infrastructure requirements, there is no time to sit idle while drones become a weapon of choice for surveillance and direct attacks. We can’t put all our focus on traditional means for protecting the nation and its interests; remit must expand to avoid a deer-in-the-headlights moment in the face of an inevitable drone attack.

Floating piers and sinking hopes: China’s logistics challenge in invading Taiwan

No doubt the Chinese military was paying attention.

Last month the United States disassembled and removed the floating pier it had assembled at a Gaza beach to take aid deliveries.

Heavy seas beat it. Such a pier supposedly can be assembled in hours, but this one took almost a month. When it was operational, waves damaged it, and it repeatedly had to be pulled away from the beach to prevent its destruction. Once it had to be towed to a port for repairs. Waves drove ashore boats that serviced it.

And all that was nothing compared with the challenges that China’s armed forces would face in trying to deliver a mountain of personnel, equipment and supplies in an invasion of Taiwan. The pier’s lesson for China is that invading the island would be a doomed endeavour.

The weather of the Taiwan Strait makes the eastern Mediterranean look like a bathtub. Defenders would attack China’s piers. Almost every beach where China might want to build floating piers is overlooked by terrain that would turn the unloading zones into kill zones.

Even before those problems arise, building and installing a floating pier is a huge exercise. The US Department of Defense budgeted $230 million for the one at Gaza, called the Trident Pier. It was operational for 20 days—less than half of the time after it was positioned—and handled only about 9000 tonnes of supplies.

Logistics is almost always harder than planned, but joint logistics over the shore (JLOTS)— moving people and things from ships to land without a port—is subject to innumerable kinds of friction.

Any Chinese invasion of Taiwan would require improvised piers in many locations simultaneously. They’d be part of a logistical effort that would be enormously larger than anything the Chinese navy has attempted. Even optimistic estimates of just 300,000 personnel for an invasion force would be double the international forces fighting in Afghanistan at the height of the global war on terror.

Higher estimates suggest an invasion of Taiwan could need as many as 2 million soldiers. Few of them, and very little of their equipment and supplies, could go by air. Almost everything would have to cross the strait in ships.

Taiwan’s seven major ports would almost certainly be contested, guarded by sea drones and subject to sabotage.

The island has 14 beaches usable for military landings. All but one are surrounded by cliffs and urban jungles, perfect places for the Taiwanese army to hide forces that would attack anything coming ashore and anything used in bringing it ashore, including the piers themselves.

Mother Nature would be doing her bit, too. Indeed, her efforts may be enough to prevent using the beaches in the first place.

Also called the Black Ditch, the strait is known for ‘… strong winds, wave swells, and fog…’ half the year. The storms, heavy rain and squally winds of monsoon seasons sweep it and the coasts on either side. An average of six typhoons hit the strait each year. As Ian Easton details in his book The Chinese Invasion Threat, the weather of the strait shrinks the windows available for an invasion to just two months of ‘good suitability’: April and October. That is a narrow time constraint that worsens a vast logistics challenge.

Apart from soldiers and their equipment, the Chinese navy would need to ferry food, fuel and ammunition to them. The landing alone could require 30 million tonnes going ashore, which far outstrips the capacity of the Chinese navy’s amphibious transport fleet.

Recognising this, the navy is incorporating civilian roll-on, roll-off ferries (roros) as reinforcements. While China has fewer than 50 roros today, it could have two or three times as many by 2032.

That still leaves the problem of getting over the beach. China should view the story of the Trident Pier as a cautionary tale. JLOTS operations are technically complex, costly and risky. The security threat to the improvised pier at Gaza was hardly comparable to the one that Taiwan and its friends would present to a Chinese cross-strait amphibious operation. Nor were the weather challenges comparable, though the sea state off Gaza was still bad enough to ensure the US pier was usually not functional.

The money that the US spent on the pier also paid to show China just how hard JLOTS can be. If that lesson deters war, it was a cheap price to pay.

From thought bubble to AUKUS

The AUKUS quest for nuclear-powered submarines is a thought bubble that turned into a huge project, driven by ambition and beset by anxiety.

Canberra’s instant political consensus is a striking element of how quickly the bubble became policy. The Labor-Liberal unity ticket was set at the moment the AUKUS vision was announced by Australia, the United Kingdom and United States. The three-year anniversary will come next month, September 15.

The distance covered was emphasised by Deputy Prime Minister and Defence Minister Richard Marles when he told Parliament on 12 August: ‘When we came to power, AUKUS was really not much more than a thought bubble, but since then we have been turning it into a reality.’ Marles says the thought is sailing along an ‘actual pathway’, steered by the Australian Submarine Agency, established on 1 July last year.

Some thought! Some bubble! Yet a lot more reality must be traversed. Even the believers see an extraordinary journey—the Optimal Pathway, an outline plan for project execution, stretches out to 2053, with the first Australian-built AUKUS submarine due in ‘the early 2040s’.

As the AUKUS voyage reached or approached two official milestones, in Canberra the Academy of Social Sciences in Australia held a symposium on the assumptions and implications of the strategic partnership on 15 and 16 August. The academy’s two-day effort did a fine job of examining how far the thought bubble had floated.

The milestones were the signing of a naval nuclear propulsion treaty providing the legal basis for AUKUS and the creation of an AUKUS trade zone for exchange of defence goods and technology.

Marles signed the nuclear propulsion treaty in Washington on 5 August, describing it as ‘a foundational part of the legal underpinning’ of building the nuclear-powered submarine. The trilateral agreement will operate until 2075. The pact allows the transfer of nuclear propulsion plants to Australia, makes Australia responsible for ‘management, disposition, storage, and disposal of any spent nuclear fuel and radioactive waste’ and gives an Australian indemnity to the US and Britain for any ‘liability, loss, costs, damage or injury’ from nuclear risks.

The treaty gives Britain and the US the right to terminate AUKUS and demand the return of nuclear material and equipment. The termination clause can be used if Australia seeks to reprocess nuclear material, builds a nuclear weapon or breaches its obligations to the Non-Proliferation Treaty and the International Atomic Energy Agency. As part of its non-proliferation pledge, Australia is negotiating a treaty with the IAEA to meet its Article 14 comprehensive safeguards obligations.

The other milestone is that from 1 September, AUKUS will have a new framework allowing freer trade of equipment and expertise. The exemptions remove licencing requirements for most controlled goods, technologies and services.

The AUKUS zone will have licence-free trade for 70 percent of defence exports from the US to Australia that are subject to arms traffic regulations, and 80 percent of defence trade under US export regulations. The deal eliminates the need for 900 export permits covering Australian exports to the US and Britain, valued at $5 billion annually. Taking lessons from the AUKUS effort to cut red tape, the US has also set out principles to build the Indo-Pacific defence industry base.

The Academy of Social Sciences symposium looked at the political, legal, strategic and economic aspects of the nuclear-powered submarine.

While Canberra has made a treaty commitment to store AUKUS nuclear waste, Maria Rost Rublee said Australia was yet to build a nuclear culture and create a social licence for storage. The Melbourne University international relations professor said that if Australia couldn’t build that culture, the US and Britain would not transfer the technology. ‘This weighs heavily on Australian minds,’ she said.

What constituted appropriate safety and risk for long-term storage of military-grade nuclear waste from nuclear-powered submarines, she said, was not just a technical issue but a social and political decision. ‘This is not going to be easy. The technical and geological problems can be solved,’ Rublee said. ‘There have been many proposals around the world for nuclear waste storage. All of them fail for lack of social licence.’

The government declaration that Australia’s storage would be on defence land couldn’t avoid issues of community consent and understanding, Rublee said, pointing to the many failed attempts around the world to establish long-term nuclear storage sites. Rublee noted those unsuccessful efforts had created an acronym for the storage failure: DADA. The DADA cycle is to Decide on a site, Announce it, then Defend it against community resistance that eventually leads the government to Abandon it.

Canberra’s treaties and optimal pathways will have to undergo many versions of that DADA test. The next column by this author will report on how the Academy discussed the submarine Australia needs and the Asia-Anglosphere dimensions of AUKUS.