The untold story of the 2009 defence white paper

Prime minister Kevin Rudd released the 2009 defence white paper in May of that year. It is today remembered mostly for what it said about the strategic implications of China’s rise; its plan to double the size of the Royal Australian Navy’s submarine force from six to 12 boats; and its goal more generally to build a larger Australian Defence Force, known as ‘Force 2030’.

Most commentaries assumed that Force 2030 was overly ambitious. This missed the point of the deep logic of the 2009 white paper that was hidden in plain, unclassified sight. Force 2030 provided only for an initial baseline force. It was designed to be expanded progressively through a series of five-yearly defence planning cycles, which would have involved regular appraisals of strategic risk, net assessments of military developments and ADF capability gaps, and re-evaluations of defence resourcing (see paragraphs 3.24–25).

The Rudd Government hedged against strategic risk by creating a pathway for a 25-year programme of force expansion. The prescience of this plan becomes clearer with every passing year. Had later Australian governments adhered to the plan, a significantly larger ADF would have been built over a series of five-yearly cycles, in 2009–14, 2014–19, 2019–24, 2024–29 and 2029–34. That version of the ADF would have been more powerful than Force 2030, in terms of its weight, reach and striking power. It also would have been much larger and more powerful than today’s force, and there would have been more options available to rapidly augment the ADF before, say, 2027.

The plan was premised on the critical importance of getting started. Force expansion could occur progressively, once a start had been made. The plan was predicated on a decade (2010–20) of aggressive force development, tendering and capability acquisition. By 2020, production lines, supply chains and procurement agreements would have been in place, especially in the crucial area of naval shipbuilding. Continuous construction, avoiding the start-stop syndrome that often afflicts naval shipbuilding, would have supported rapid construction. It would also have reduced ships’ unit prices over time, as a result of continuity and scale.

This approach was especially crucial in relation to the Future Submarine. The plan was to acquire 12 such boats (paragraphs 8.40, 9.3–10). The best option for timely delivery would have been to order conventional submarines of a Super Collins class, derived from the Collins class that we already had, from 2010 to 2020. They would have been built in Australia, and the first would have been commissioned in 2020. By the late 2020s, a mixed fleet of six refurbished Collins class and six Super Collins class submarines would have been available, at which point a decision could have been taken about whether to decommission the oldest Collins boats, thereby keeping the size of the fleet at 12 units, or, if viable, to retain them, increasing the fleet beyond 12.

Defence White Paper 2009 explicitly contemplated Australia having to acquire a larger force ‘in relation to the heightened risk of inter-state war’. Force expansion would have entailed acquisition of ‘more advanced submarines’ and other capabilities that were not included in the initial baseline force (paragraph 3.21). This meant that, during the 2014–19 planning cycle, consideration would have been given to acquiring nuclear-powered submarines of the Virginia class, the design that Australia would (and indeed does now) need in the 2030s and beyond. We could have negotiated an agreement with the United States under which Australia could have committed to helping with Virginia-class maintenance for itself and the US Navy, thereby increasing the availability of Virginia-class boats for both the USN and the RAN. Perhaps that deal could still be struck today, but that is a story for another day.

The white paper’s approach to capability hedging and force expansion should also be read as providing for acquisition of heavy bombers, missile-defence interceptors and other capabilities that were not included in Force 2030. To this end, the Department of Defence was directed to develop ‘additional force structure options’ for future consideration (paragraphs 9.108–109). It was also directed to undertake mobilisation planning, in contemplation of Australia having to mobilise significant resources if circumstances of ‘national peril’ arose (paragraphs 10.22–24).

There were other clues regarding force expansion. In a section on fundamental changes in our strategic outlook, there was a discussion of the possibility of a dramatic deterioration of our strategic circumstances. Of particular concern would be any diminution in the willingness or capacity of the US to act as the stabilising force of world order (paragraphs 3.17–19). Indeed, the 2009 white paper explicitly asked whether the US would continue to undertake the strategic role that it had played since the end of World War II (paragraphs 4.17 and 6.27). This raised eyebrows in Washington. It was not presumed that the US would withdraw. Rather, it was judged that, as the US’s strategic primacy and military dominance came under increasing challenge, its allies and partners, Australia included, would have to do more for themselves. The possibilities were that they might do so through their own decisions, or because of pressure from a future US administration, or due to a combination of these factors.

If the future role of the United States was of concern, the plausible contingency of having to militarily confront a major power adversary was positively alarming. This might include hostile operations by such an adversary in our sea-air approaches, most likely as a result of a wider conflict in the region (paragraphs 5.6–7). Such an adversary might gain access to bases and operating opportunities in our sea-air approaches (paragraphs 3.8, 5.12 and 6.25). The higher the likelihood of such contingencies, the heavier the force that we would need (paragraph 8.44).

It was assumed that, except in the case of nuclear attack, Australia would be expected in such contingencies to provide for its own direct defence without relying on the combat forces of other countries. So, in a wider Pacific war, Australia would need to be able to independently contest hostile military operations by a major power in our area of direct military interest (paragraphs 8.45–46). In such a war, Australia would almost certainly be attacked if it was supporting the US, including by providing it with basing and other support (paragraph 7.18).

The 2009 white paper made clear that we would have to be prepared and able to mount such a defence by denying access to the sea-air approaches to Australia and by disrupting an adversary’s freedom of action in our immediate neighbourhood through the independent application of combat power (paragraphs 6.17–19). This would mean being prepared to achieve and maintain air superiority and sea control in places of our choosing in our area of direct military interest (paragraphs 7.3, and 6.38–42). It would also mean being prepared to strike as far from Australia as possible at an adversary’s bases, staging areas and forces in transit. In doing so, we would exploit the funnelling effect of our strategic geography (paragraphs 6.39 and 7.4–6). This might involve operations as far afield as maritime Southeast Asia and elsewhere (paragraphs 6.46 and 8.47).

Such an approach, which echoed the policy of defence self-reliance that was first articulated by the Hawke government in 1987, would not mean we would cease to look to the US for support in such matters as space-based intelligence systems, advanced technologies, long-range missiles and so on, and for protection against nuclear attack (paragraphs 6.20–21 and 6.32–34).

We would, however, have to be prepared to fight independently and aggressively. Assuming that the ADF was heavy enough and had long enough reach, Australian military strategy would be: (1) to deter an attack, because an adversary would have to devote an unacceptably large proportion of its military capability to ensure success against us; or (2), failing that, to blunt an attack by inflicting heavy losses on an attacker while we rallied support.

By 2008, it was clear that by the early 2030s, China would have the capability to be able to operate in our sea-air approaches and to strike at Australian forces, facilities, and infrastructure from long range. It was also judged that the US would be stretched and challenged by China, and that others, such as US allies and partners, would have to be prepared to do more to defend themselves.

Critics were scathing of Defence White Paper 2009’s hawkish view of the risks posed by China’s military modernisation. Almost universally, supposed experts in Australia and elsewhere judged that China would take its place as a responsible stakeholder in the global system and that its military modernisation was no more than what all emerging great powers pursued as they rose.

The white paper took the view that China was no ordinary emerging great power and that it was likely to take a different path. This proved to be prescient. China disliked the language of the document (especially paragraphs 4.26–27 and 5.14) and protested stridently when briefed ahead of the launch of the document. The Rudd government did not buckle, and the offending text was not amended, as Beijing demanded.

Rudd himself would have preferred to see evolution of Asia-Pacific regionalism, in which the US, China, Japan and other nations could integrate their economies and resolve their differences peacefully. However, he was also deeply realistic about prospects of confrontation in the region and the resulting requirement to hedge against a darker future. He knew this would require significant investment in military power, with a particular emphasis on building a strong navy. No Australian prime minister since Alfred Deakin had so keenly appreciated the critical importance of sea power.

The plan got off to a promising start in 2009 and 2010 but was effectively dismantled after Rudd’s removal from office in June 2010. Funding was cut. This stalled the momentum that should have be built over the decade 2010 to 2020, which was when the platform for force expansion was supposed to have been laid. As a result, the ADF is smaller and less powerful today than it would have been under the plan; Force 2030 is unachievable; and the further force expansion that should have occurred cannot be realised by the mid-2030s.

Had force expansion occurred, a plausible alternative history might now read as follows. Defence funding could have been progressively increased over the series of five-yearly planning cycles, with real growth (assuming annual price rises of 2.5 percent) increasing from 3 percent in the 2009–14 cycle to 5 percent in 2014–19, 7 percent in 2019-24, 9 percent in 2024–29 and 9 percent in 2029–34. Factoring in supplemental funding to cover for inflation of the Covid-19 era and extra funding for the Virginia-class submarine program, and allowing for Defence to reinvest internal efficiencies, this funding strategy would have provided us with a defence budget in 2025–26 of around $85 billion to $90 billion growing by 9 percent in real terms. (The actual defence budget for 2025–26 is $59 billion.)

A larger ADF would have been available today, with the following force being realised fully during the 2029–34 cycle. The RAN would have had a battle fleet of at least 12 submarines (a mix of Collins and Super Collins boats), with a pathway to acquiring Virginia-class nuclear-powered submarines; six destroyers; 14 frigates; 20 corvettes; six missile arsenal ships, each with 100 vertical launch cells; and two light aircraft carriers (repurposed LHD assault ships) able to carry F-35B fighters, helicopters and autonomous aircraft and other uncrewed vehicles.

The Australian Army would have been a three-division force, with the 1st Division optimised for littoral, amphibious and missile warfare, the 2nd Division for continental defence, and the 3rd Division for training and reinforcement. This would have required 18 battalion groups, as compared with the 10 battalion groups in Force 2030 (paragraph 9.30).

The Royal Australian Air Force would have been building to 100 F-35A Lightning fighters 24 F/A-18F Super Hornet fighters, 12 EA-18G Growler electromagnetic attack aircraft, 10 B-1B Lancer bombers (with B-21 Raiders in prospect), 20 P-8A Poseidon maritime patrollers, 10 MQ-4C Triton uncrewed surveillance aircraft, 10 E-7A Wedgetail air-surveillance aircraft and 10 A330 MRTT tankers (called KC-30As locally).

The ADF would have been equipped with more Tomahawk cruise missiles, launchable from land as well as sea. A land-based, intermediate range ballistic missile force would have also been in prospect. Missile-defence batteries would have been available, including SM-3 and THAAD systems. Autonomous technologies and asymmetric capabilities would have been widely deployed across the force. Crucial enablers, such as command centres, communications systems, hardened bases, and fuel and logistics networks, would have been remediated and expanded. All of this would have required a complete enterprise-level reform of Defence—to make it lean, focused and driven.

With such a force, Australia could have defended itself against a major power adversary by being able to extract a high cost from the attacker while we rallied support from the United States and others. A plan to hold out, as Britain did in 1940, would require Force 2030 and then some. The 2009 White Paper was that plan.