Tag Archive for: Asia–Pacific

Combatting climate change in the Asia–Pacific: lessons from the Marshall Plan

Despite international crises in Europe and the Middle East, the US remains a Pacific nation and is committed to a greater strategic emphasis on the Asia–Pacific region. But in order for this ‘rebalance’policy to translate into lasting influence, the US needs a comprehensive diplomatic, defense and development agenda to prepare for key emerging threats—including climate change, which has been recognised as an ever-present existential threat that multiplies the region’s existing vulnerabilities (PDF).

In 1949, the US decided that its national security depended on the maintenance of a strong alliance with its European compatriots. The Marshall Plan, a US$13 billion package of conditional assistance, was a critical step in that process designed to maintain a Europe stable and secure enough to resist Soviet aggression. By effectively connecting economic and development assistance to Europe with diplomatic and security objectives, the Marshall Plan quickly elevated Western Europe from devastated to developed. It helped to lay the groundwork for the European Union and the North Atlantic Treaty Organization.

Such a broadly-successful plan can provide lessons for a new US strategy in the Asia–Pacific—a region grappling with population pressures, climate change and the challenge of a rising China.

In concert with other initiatives, meeting the region’s climate needs through a Climate Security Plan could enhance regional stability, build goodwill, enhance US cooperation with nations on humanitarian and disaster relief and serve as a non-threatening way of competing with China for regional influence. There are existing programs, funds, strategies and structures that can form a foundation for such a plan. Scaling-up investment and enhancing coordination across the traditionally-distinct silos of defence, diplomacy and development are at the heart of such an approach.

In terms of defence, the US military can help maintain stability in climate-vulnerable nations in the Asia–Pacific region, through both military–military and civilian–military engagement on climate preparedness. Some of this engagement is already happening, including mil–mil cooperation on disaster risk reduction with partner nations such as Malaysia; large-scale joint exercises such as Pacific Angel; regional security dialogues on climate change and security at the ASEAN Defense Ministers Meeting; and military-led diplomacy through the Pacific Outreach Directorate of US Pacific Command. The US can do much to build resilience in the region by expanding programs led by US PACOM, including ensuring that the Department of Defense broadens its strategic guidance to US PACOM to allow for broader integration of climate change risks into its deliberate and contingency planning processes, strategic analyses, joint exercises and cooperative security programs. This would give US PACOM the space to coordinate with its counterparts in the diplomatic and development agencies to address climate change as a strategic security risk in its Area of Responsibility.

In terms of diplomatic action, enhancing cooperation with allied, partner, and prospective partner nations on addressing climate-related threats will be critical. Again, the US won’t be starting from scratch. In 2013, the US supported the Majuro Declaration at the Pacific Islands Forum, which called on countries to create a fund to address climate risks in Pacific islands. In 2014, the US concluded a historic deal on climate change with China. However, a much greater emphasis on bilateral and multi-lateral partnerships for addressing climate change in the region is needed. With US backing, APEC may have room to expand its mandate into climate change adaptation. In 2012, the US launched a high-level engagement process in the region that included ‘coping with climate change, and rising sea levels,’ which can be built upon. Lastly, more expansive US support for climate-sensitive DRR in the region could have benefits that go well beyond the often short-lived diplomatic benefits of successful disaster response efforts.

Development support, including increases in financing for climate change adaptation, will also be of critical importance. Until now, such financing has been minuscule relative to the threat. That could be problematic as the US seeks to broaden its partnerships in the region beyond its traditional allies, including with strategically significant and extremely climate-vulnerable countries such as Vietnam and Indonesia. While recent US commitments—like its US$3 billion pledge to the Green Climate Fund, USAID’s ADAPT Asia–Pacific program and the Lower Mekong Initiative—will help in this regard, it may not be enough, especially given China’s recent announcement of an alternative ‘South-South’ climate fund. Some low-hanging fruit includes renewal and expansion of the five-year Pacific–American Climate Fund and a broadening of the mandate and scope of the Global Security Contingency Fund to include strategic climate investments to key allied partners and nations in the region.

Conditions have changed since the Marshall Plan was implemented and there are many ways in which modern investment programs and strategic engagement strategies are different. However, the key positive lessons of the Marshall Plan are relevant today.

If the US wants to be successful in the Asia–Pacific, it’ll need to invest in combating the region’s climate change ills (PDF). Such a policy will shore up and sustain US leadership in both the Asia–Pacific and the world. Failing to play such a leadership role may ultimately result in other nations either assuming that leadership mantle, or being left unable to prevent and respond to instability and conflict. The US can nurture its capacity and role in the region if it so chooses to seize the opportunity to lead on climate security.

Seven Defence White Papers by the numbers (2): Geographic constructs

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It’s time to look past Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs—this is Oz and the Seven White Papers. (No word to hand on the Handsome Prince capability trial or cost blowout in the digital poisoned apple.)

The previous tale—make that column—surveyed Australia’s seven Defence White Papers to rank countries by the number of times they received a mentioned.

The number of mentions is a crude measure useful for calculation, comparison and hierarchy. The aim is find meanings and mental maps amid the numbers—to seek strategic topography from the typography.

Using the same approach, look at the geographic constructs in the Seven Defence White Papers: 1976, 1987, 1994 and 2000 in the 20th Century, and this century: 2009, 2013 and 2016.

In the first two White Papers, Defence ignored the word ‘Asia’ as a single construct, preferring Southeast Asia and North East Asia (or North Asia, as it has become of late).

In the ’87 Paper there was one reference to the Asian mainland. The Defence hardheads didn’t think there was an Asia system worth considering (a criticism today levelled at Defence’s concept du jour, the Indo–Pacific).

As the immediate neighbourhood, Southeast Asia always gets more mentions than North Asia.

The big actors in North Asia are so distinctive they often demand individual treatment.

The centripetal effects of ASEAN consolidate the idea of Southeast Asia, while North Asia tends to the centrifugal.

In 1994, Defence got a big dose of the Paul Keatings—Asia was everywhere in the document.

Defence got the Asia–Pacific memo, but never wanting to be slavish about following fashions on the other side of the lake (Burley Griffin) rendered it 27 times as ‘Asia and the Pacific’ and three times as Asia–Pacific.

By 2000, Asia Pacific didn’t even need a hyphen and it got more mentions than Southeast and North East Asia combined.

In Kevin Rudd’s White Paper, ‘Asia Pacific’ was in the document title (‘Defending Australia in the Asia Pacific Century: Force 2030’) but not in the text.

‘Asia Pacific’ was at the foot of every page in 2009 as part of the title, but the usage appeared only three times in the text (twice for Rudd’s vain bid for an Asia Pacific Community).

The 2013 paper also had three Asia Pacific mentions; by 2016 it got a donut.

In the 2013 White Paper, Defence managed to give ten mentions to Julia Gillard’s ‘Australia in the Asian Century’ White Paper; that was necessary obeisance, not obedience.

Rather than ‘Asian Century’, Defence preferred a new construct that was explicit about the continuing US presence in the system. The new star in 2013 was the Indo–Pacific.

The ‘76 White Paper used the term Indo–Pacific once, but then it fled the scene for three decades.

After zero appearances in four White Papers, the Indo–Pacific was everywhere in 2013 and has just done a repeat.

Defence embraces the Indo–Pacific as the defining geographic expression of strategy and seeks a new India dimension.

South East Asia

1976 1987 1994 2000 2009 2013 2016
11 20 25 31 29 39 53

North East Asia/North Asia

1976 1987 1994 2000 2009 2013 2016
5 0 4 6 7 6 17

Asia Pacific

1976 1987 1994 2000 2009 2013 2016
0 0 30 44 3 3 0

South China Sea

1976 1987 1994 2000 2009 2013 2016
0 3 1 1 0 6 9

South Pacific/South-West Pacific

1976 1987 1994 2000 2009 2013 2016
5 30 13 10 18 33 21

Indo–Pacific

1976 1987 1994 2000 2009 2013 2016
1 0 0 0 0 58 68

The next column will explore themes and memes in the seven Defence White Papers.

DWP 2016 and self-reliance

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There’s little that’s new in our new White Paper, but there’s one bold innovation which has so far received less attention that it deserves. The Turnbull Government has substantially downgraded, if not quite completely abandoned, the core idea which has been the foundation of Australia’s defence policy for 40 years: the self-reliant defence of Australia. Are we witnessing the end of an era?

Since the canonical Australian Defence of 1976, every White Paper until now has unambiguously affirmed that the principal task of the ADF is the defence of Australia from direct attack, and that it must have the capabilities to do so against any credible threat without relying on the combat forces of our allies. This has been has been the definitive answer to the question ‘What does the ADF need to be able to do?’ and hence the essential starting point for deciding what capabilities it needs and how much we have to spend on it.

There’s always been debate about whether the self-reliant defence of Australia should have been our primary strategic objective for all these years. But there’s no question that this has been the policy, right up to and including the last White Paper in 2013. Paragraph 3.35 of that document said: ‘The highest priority ADF task is to deter and defeat armed attacks on Australia without having to rely on the combat or combat support forces of another country’.

Each of its five predecessors in ’76, ’87, ’94, ’00 and ’09 had a sentence very like that. So, to be fair, does the 2016 White Paper. Chapter One, paragraph 1.15, which summarises the Defence Strategy that is to be set out in Chapter Three, says:

‘The self-reliant defence of Australia’s territory remains the highest priority for this Government, and protecting Australia from the threat of armed attack or coercion is the primary mission for Defence.’

But that isn’t what it says in Chapter Three, where the issue is most extensively addressed. The formulation offered in the table in Paragraph 3.3, and again in the subheading above 3.12 seems intended to be the most authoritative: it goes ‘Deter, deny and defeat attacks on or threats to Australia and its national interests, and northern approaches’.

There are several points to make about this formulation. First, the phrase ‘and its national interests’ robs the whole concept of any content, because ‘national interests’ covers just about anything. Indeed the very next paragraph [3.4] defines the whole set of strategic defence interests up to the global level as merely a subset of national interests. So the direct defence of Australia itself isn’t seen as a distinct objective. (And anyone who thinks this is mere pedantry of no relevance to real decision-making has never sat around the DC table.)

Second, the apparently authoritative words in paragraph 3.3 don’t say that the ADF should be able to defend Australia without relying on our allies’ forces. As we have seen, self-reliance is mentioned in para 1.15, and it’s mentioned again in Para 3.13, so perhaps their omission elsewhere was on oversight. But if so, that is itself suggestive. It’s more likely, as well as more charitable to those who drafted and approved the White Paper, that we’re seeing here a conscious, or semi-conscious, decision to step back from self-reliance, and return to a defence policy that assumes Australia will always be fighting alongside allies, and that the ADF’s key role is to support such allies. This interpretation is supported by the great emphasis placed throughout the White Paper on working with allies and partners to defend the seemingly-ubiquitous ‘Rules Based Global Order’.

Third, as Kim Beazley has delicately pointed out, the new White Paper is a little uncertain about whether this first ‘Strategic Defence Objective’ of defending Australia is or isn’t our highest priority and should therefore carry the most weight in determining our capability choices. In fact Kim is too charitable—on this key point the White Paper seems plainly self-contradictory.

In some places, such as the lines from para 1.15 quoted above, the first objective is given clear precedence. In others, such as on page 18, para 1.20 and para 3.33, the document clearly implies that all three strategic objectives are to be given equal weight. Perhaps the intended meaning is that all three objectives should weigh in setting force priorities, but that the first objective should weigh more than the others. This was after all the approach adopted in different ways in the 2000 White Paper and its two successors.

But if that’s what the 2016 White Paper meant, why not say it? Again, maybe this simply reflects muddled thinking and loose drafting, but we shouldn’t rule out the possibility that the government is deliberately stepping back from a principle that has underpinned our defence policy for a generation.

So what’s happening here? One part of the explanation for all those muddles may be found in the circumstances in which the White Paper was produced, being started under Tony Abbott and finished under Malcolm Turnbull. No one would be surprised to discover that Tony Abbott and his closest advisers approached the drafting a new White Paper with an instinctive dislike of the whole ‘self-reliant defence of Australia’ tradition, and that their preference was to radically refocus Australia’s defence priorities towards meeting global threats in partnership with Anglosphere allies.

It therefore seems likely that Mr Abbott left his successor a draft that downplayed the defence of Australia and didn’t mention self-reliance at all. Under Mr Turnbull an attempt was made to bring the draft back closer towards the policy mainstream, but too little was done to erase the residue of Mr Abbott’s proclivities.

But a fumbled transition is at most only half the story, because there’s a second, much deeper, reason why policymakers might find themselves easing away from self-reliance. The posture adopted in 1976 made sense in an era when US primacy in Asia was uncontested, so the only threats Australia had to defend itself against were those that could be posed by a poorly-armed Indonesia.

Recent White Papers–especially 2009’s–have grappled with the implications for self-reliance of waning US primacy, and failed to come up with an answer. Today the issue is more acute than ever, and perhaps the ever-starker implications for self-reliance have just become too hard to think about. If so, that’s a big mistake. As the US-led order in Asia passes, self-reliance becomes more important than ever, and defining what it might mean, and how it could be achieved, is the key challenge we face. Our new White Paper tries to evade that challenge by stepping back from self-reliance. It won’t work.

The Defence White Paper: politics, policy and posture

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Modern Defence White Papers are notoriously difficult to craft. As public documents, they’re fragile vehicles that are expected to carry a number of heavy loads.

They must be accurate enough in their scan of the strategic environment to provide a sense of what might occur without offending regional sensibilities. They must be comprehensive enough in their force structure prescriptions to keep the various defence tribes happy, yet provide an indication of where priorities lie. They must press enough national security buttons to keep external stakeholders happy, without so attenuating the focus on national defence responsibilities that the document turns into a kind of security policy blancmange. And they must accommodate the politics of the day without appearing to be partisan.

Yesterday’s White Paper accommodates these competing expectations competently, and certainly with greater assuredness than its two predecessors (2009 and 2013). Defence Minister Marise Payne claims that ‘the 2016 Defence White Paper is the most rigorous and comprehensive in Australia’s history’. In truth, it isn’t so different from its forerunners. It’s just as conventional and, perhaps in consequence, just as fragile, with a bit too much hyperbole covering for perplexity in the face of largely irresolvable problems.

Notwithstanding the Minister’s assertion during her Radio National interview with the ABC’s Michael Brissenden that the force structure parameters were determined as recently as 2014 (yet another instance of politics standing on the throat of policy), the current document displays considerable continuity with its predecessors. That is as it should be, since defence capabilities remain in the inventory for decades. But it also rectifies a couple of fundamental failures of the two previous White Papers.

Most importantly, it provides much needed guidance on the rebuilding of the Navy as a central strategic asset in a world where maritime power matters more than ever. The White Paper should end the dithering and indecision that has attended consideration of Australia’s submarine capability for the past decade and a half—a dithering that has both degraded our current capability and set back the restoration of our most significant strategic weapons system. Of course, it continues to beg the question ‘where will they be built’. That’s a question that demands an answer.

The White Paper should also cement naval shipbuilding into the fabric of our national industrial and technological capacity. Defence is a national enterprise. The idea that major defence systems (and that’s what the Navy is) are somehow dissociated from the drivers of the national economy, and that major platforms can be assembled from a rag bag of international offerings at the lowest cost (and often the least effectiveness) is anathema. Yet the mantra of cost efficiency has actually generated cost overruns and delivery delays that have hollowed out the effectiveness of the ADF. That has to stop.

The White Paper’s proposals regarding a rolling submarine build program to ensure that the risk of a capability gap in the middle of this century is reduced, together with a continuous shipbuilding approach to the construction of surface combatants should, in combination, provide greater operability and sustainability to the Navy. This is long overdue.

The White Paper is, overall, a sound basis for Australia’s future strategic policy design, force structure development and operational planning. Its treatment of China as the dominant strategic concern in the Asia–Pacific region is much more nuanced and confident than were either the 2009 or 2013 White Papers.

It is, however, less assured in dealing with four significant issues.

First, its threat analysis lacks precision and definition. To be truly useful, Defence White Papers must deal decisively with what it means to use armed force in defence of the nation and its interests. That goes to the heart of national strategy. National strategy isn’t coterminous with national security—that’s a much larger canvas on which an integrated policy needs to be drawn. Yet this White Paper conflates security issues with strategic ones, and the result is a measure of confusion that could dissipate the national defence effort.

The threat of cyber-attacks and the threat deriving from terrorist groups around the globe are real. But are they grist to the defence strategic mill?

A concerted cyber-attack could conceivably bring down not just the banking and commercial systems but also critical aspects of the national infrastructure such as electricity and water. Clearly, governments must take such threats seriously and address them thoroughly. But while the Australian Signals Directorate plays an important role in both the diagnosis and treatment of the cyber security problem, cyber security isn’t at its core a defence issue. Armed force is irrelevant to its resolution.

Similarly, terrorism isn’t ultimately a defence matter. It’s evidently a law enforcement and intelligence issue, and some elements of the ADF capability (particularly the precision assault skills of the SAS) are applicable in certain situations. But the capacity available to government in dealing with some terrorism incidents is a consequence of sound force structure planning, not its cause.

Second, determining 2% of GDP as the defence-spending envelope within the coming half decade puts the financial cart before the capability horse. The issue here isn’t the quantum of the spend, but rather the allocation of appropriate levels of funding to achieve mandated capability outcomes. The important thing for governments is less to meet election commitments (which are pretty flexible anyway) than it is to spend the right amount of money wisely—especially given Australia’s practice of providing supplementary funding to the ADF when it’s deployed on operations.

Third, apart from a couple of passing references to the humanitarian and natural disaster effects of climate change, the White Paper maintains the government’s coyness on global warming issues, especially the possible strategic consequences in the Asia–Pacific region. Internal migrations, domestic disorder and mass border crossings are, perhaps, the least of the strategic issues. But contests over ocean resources and, more importantly, water are real consequences that require analysis, planning and force posture consideration.

And finally, the White Paper is silent on the critical relationship between defence and the national economy. A strong and growing economy is fundamental if a confident and effective defence posture is to be maintained and the resilience necessary to sustain that posture over the long term is to be generated.

Basically, White Papers are a work in progress. This one is a good start, but there is more to be done if the next version is to chart an even more rigorous and comprehensive basis for strategic decision making as the fault lines in the strategic geography of the Asia–Pacific region become ever more apparent.

The ‘come-as-you-are’ war

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There’s a dominant motif that runs through the strategic assessment underpinning the latest Defence White Paper and, despite what China might think, it’s not containment. It’s uncertainty. Australia is beefing up for an uncertain world. Beneath some reassuring words about growing regional prosperity and the US rebalance lies a set of deep uncertainties—about the resilience of the current regional order; about the magnitude, scope and timing of possible challenges to that order; and about the ease with which strategic competition might spiral more easily into conflict in coming decades.

That’s why the government hasn’t reneged on its earlier commitment to spend 2% of GDP on defence. Indeed, it’s brought forward that commitment by three full years, from 2023–24 to 2020–21. Attracted as it must have been by the prospect of reaching a budget surplus earlier than now, the government’s opted instead for a measured expansion of Australia’s defence capability.

In the 2013 Defence White Paper, the Gillard government depicted a regional security environment that bore hallmarks of both cooperation and competition. Today’s White Paper signals a judgment—see para 1.6—that the Asian security environment has become more competitive and less cooperative in the intervening years. Moreover, the risk of further slippage in that direction can’t be ignored—and muscling up takes time.

Unarticulated in the White Paper is any judgment about the shifting nature of conflict—and whether thresholds and firebreaks that we’ve become used to over previous decades are weakening. Surely actors with a greater appetite for strategic risk are pushing at the lower rungs of the escalation ladder? It’s not only the risk of conflict that’s going up. The possibility of unexpected breaches of the thresholds is going up too—making more likely the prospect of sudden conflict with unexpected escalation ladders.

That doesn’t mean we stand on the brink of World War 3. Nor is there much prospect of a military attack upon Australian territory by another country. But we do stand on the brink of an age of argy-bargy—though the White Paper doesn’t use that technical term—of a rather less civilised global and regional order. The sort of ADF the White Paper intends to field—an ADF that’s more capable, agile and responsive—is one more suited to that age of argy-bargy.

The White Paper doesn’t bury the message; indeed, it rehearses both judgments—about rising uncertainty and the need for a more muscular and responsive ADF—right up front in para 1.1. But there’s relatively little unfolding of either judgment in Chapter 2, which canvasses Australia’s strategic environment. There, the US–China relationship—and Australia’s relationships with both countries—is handled exceedingly diplomatically; as is the section on the rules-based global order. Terrorism is depicted as a threat, and state fragility as an enabler of a range of malign actors. There’s a professional, if dry, section on regional military modernisation, and a set of observations about the cyber and space domains.

Coverage of Australia itself and of its immediate neighbourhood follows those earlier topics, before the chapter turns to a closer analysis of North Asia, the Indian Ocean, the Middle East, and proliferation of WMD. There are some critical judgments here too: I think para 2.83 reflects a new benchmark in Australian positive thinking about Indonesian military modernisation, for example (a position reinforced later at para 5.37). But, again, there’s little sense of alarm. The section on Weapons of Mass Destruction—paras 2.102-2.106—is actually boring. Readers of Chapter 2 will be left wondering quite why we’re embarking on the course we are.

In contrast to previous White Papers, which were constrained by geographical notions of capability priority, Chapter 3 promises an ADF better structured for the full range of its far-regional and global missions. Para 3.10 notes the government’s agreement to three equally-weighted Strategic Defence Objectives to guide the development of the future force—a pleasant and overdue change to earlier doctrine that only the defence of Australia or its near environs could determine force structure.

Notwithstanding Chapter 2, the broad setting of the White Paper suggests a sense of urgency. Not only is money being made available more rapidly than before, there’s a broader theme running through the document about our need for an ADF geared to a higher level of preparedness. I think the White Paper gives us the force structure we will want over the next couple of decades. But I’d have been happier with a Chapter 2 that was less diplomatically phrased.

The 2016 Defence White Paper: good posture

Australia's Federation Guard performing a Tri Service Royal Guard for visiting Governor General of Solomon Islands at 4 pm on Tuesday 16th August 2005.

A wide brown land needs a big, big defence policy and Australia has received that very thing with this morning’s delivery of the 2016 Defence White Paper.

Conceived in 2013, gestating like a humongous pearl in 2014 and 2015, the 2016 White Paper largely lives up to its self-made claim to be ‘deliberate, rigorous and methodical’. Although a close read occasionally points to the White Paper’s mixed parentage—the words ‘agile’ and ‘innovative’ are salted through the text—this is a document that sets out a clear strategy, a logically-articulated force structure and—can you believe it—a plausible funding plan.

The strategy all hinges on the money. To the extent that any government can commit their heirs and successors, this White Paper locks in a promise to reach a defence budget ‘just ahead’ of 2% of gross domestic product in 2020–21. That’s three years in advance of Tony Abbott’s pledge to reach 2% of GDP in 2023–24. Some decry the value of the 2% target, but it kept both Government and Opposition focused on security at a time when others would have happily ditched the spending promise.

On strategic outlook, the White Paper makes a compelling case for being concerned about a generally deteriorating situation. It does so after a throat-clearing reference to the ‘greater opportunities for prosperity and development’ afforded by generally exciting times. But opportunities for positive excitement can only be realised if prosperity stays underpinned by peace and stability.

The risks are elaborated: cyber attacks are ‘a real and present threat’; there will be ‘greater uncertainty’ for at least the next two decades; serious ‘points of friction’ are emerging between China and the US; Russia emerges increasingly ‘coercive and aggressive’; terrorism is growing and regional countries aren’t well placed to handle it; the South China Sea ‘will continue to provide a source of tension that could undermine stability’; and so on.

The list of risks isn’t exaggerated and they cumulatively point to the need for a stronger set of military capabilities and an Australian Defence Force more engaged in Indo–Pacific regional security cooperation. (Upcoming posts on The Strategist will look in detail at capability choices.)

Here it’s worth noting that the 2016 White Paper makes more of Defence ‘posture’ than any of its predecessors. ‘Posture’ in this sense means what you do with the Defence Force you already have. That’s the real start of planning for the defence force we would like to have and might get if funding assumptions hold.

Three ‘Strategic Defence Interests’ are said to shape policy decisions. These are: one, having the capacity to deter or defeat any attack on, or attempt to coerce, Australia. Two, securing our nearer region of ‘maritime Southeast Asia’ and the Pacific; and three, contributing to a stable Indo–Pacific region and a rules-based global order.

Fundamentally it’s the second of those priorities that drives key posture and future force structure decision-making. The White Paper can be seen as the concluding verse to the generation-long saga of the Defence of Australia (DOA) strategy. ‘DOA’ is now fully effected in a maritime strategy focused on Southeast Asia and the Pacific.

Defence’s international engagement effort is projected to grow renewed priority for bilateral and multilateral cooperation. ADF readiness levels are to be raised to allow for a more sustained ADF presence in the region—a potentially expensive decision. The numbers of ADF and Defence civilian personnel posted overseas will increase, but there are few details about how that will be done.

Almost every major relationship in the Indo–Pacific is projected to grow. The document is bullish on prospects for cooperation with Indonesia. Areas identified for more cooperation include counterterrorism, maritime engagement, HADR, peacekeeping and intelligence. Interestingly, the White Paper refers to the modernisation of the Indonesian Armed Forces as a ‘positive development’ in regional security and anticipates that Australia could support that process.

The paragraphs on Japan show how far the bilateral relationship has come even before any final decision is made on the preferred submarine design. Identified areas for cooperation include intelligence, developing common capabilities like the Joint Strike Fighter, air and missile defence and maritime warfare technologies. It’s perhaps not unconnected with a statement in the section on missile defence which says that Australia will participate in a bilateral working group with the US to examine ‘options for potential Australian contributions to integrated air and missile defence in the region’.

On China, the White Paper is measured and restrained. It talks rather soberly of the ‘productive working relationship’ on Defence matters and stresses in several places that China has an opportunity to step forward to play its own role in regional peace and stability in ‘North Asia and the Indo–Pacific.’

The Paper is concerned about the South China Sea becoming a source of tension that could undermine stability. It pointedly says that ‘Australia is particularly concerned by the unprecedented pace and scale of China’s land reclamation activities’. It pronounces that countries should be ‘open and transparent about end-state purposes of land reclamation activities’. Well, a White Paper would have to say something like that, wouldn’t it? The ‘end state purposes’ of China’s activities in the South China Sea are pretty obvious, even to the half-blind dugongs that might once have swum around Mischief Reef.

Although Tony Abbott’s rhetorical flourish of the ‘long, strong arm’ of the ADF is behind us, the White Paper preserves a welcome commitment to thinking about Australian strategic interests on a global canvas. Apart from the US, New Zealand and the Pacific, the section on engagement also highlights Australia’s productive defence links with the UK, NATO, the UN, France, Canada, the Netherlands, Spain and Germany. This is a welcome change and points to a growing maturity around the thought that Australia can do the strategic equivalent of walking and chewing gum. When it comes to defence thinking we can be both global and local—a skill demanded of us by our increasingly risky strategic environment.

China’s comfortable position in the Spratlys: chipping away at the US-led order

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Beijing has come under increasing international pressure over its building and militarisation of the maritime features it occupies in the Spratly Islands.

On 30 January, the US Navy sent a guided-missile destroyer within 12 nautical miles of Triton Island in the Paracels. Three months earlier, they conducted a similar exercise near a Chinese-occupied reef in the Spratlys. According to a report in The Australian, Canberra might also carry out a similar Freedom of Navigation Operation (FONOP) in the coming months.

Recently, there has also been more pushback against China’s activities in the South China Sea by regional states. The US, which already operates P8 maritime patrol aircraft out of Malaysia and the Philippines, said in December that Singapore would be hosting P8s. In August last year, ASEAN dedicated seven paragraphs to the South China Sea, noting that China’s land reclamation work in the South China Sea may ‘undermine peace and security of SCS.’

The arbitration case that the Philippines has taken to the Permanent Court of Arbitration (PCA) at the Hague is likely to be ruled on before June. In October, the PCA awarded its first decision to the Philippines, stating that the case was ‘properly constituted’ under the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea.

The US has stressed that countries should prioritise the freedom of navigation and overflight so that global commerce remains unimpeded. The fact, however, is that China doesn’t threaten commercial shipping through the South China Sea. A recent Reuters report showed that the shipping industry is not as concerned about US warnings that Beijing is seeking to exert control in the South China Sea. Even if China does eventually take over the South China Sea, shipping firms don’t think that this would affect the passage of merchant ships. Rather, the Sino–US struggle in the South China Sea is more about China’s dim view of US military vessels conducting activities in its Exclusive Economic Zones and territorial waters.

What’s worrying is China’s attempts to change the region’s status quo, given the ambiguous legal basis of its nine-dashed line claim on the South China Sea, the scale and speed of its land reclamation work, and the militarisation of the Spratlys features it occupies.

While China’s actions are audacious, there’s little left that will dislodge its now favourable position in the Spratlys.     

Washington’s recent FONOPs are commendable. But the true test of FONOPs is when other regional players join in, which is unlikely. ASEAN members have to tread carefully, given that their participation would trigger Chinese protests and jeopardise the long-drawn talks for a binding Code of Conduct. In November, Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe suggested that Japan would consider sending patrols to the South China Sea, but his Cabinet Secretary later said that Japan had no ‘concrete plans’ to do so. This leaves only Australia, which is yet to take a decision.

Ironically, the US conduct of FONOPs may give Beijing the chance to accelerate the military phase of its island-building project—what has been described as the ‘Chinese trap’. In a January conference call, PLA Navy chief Admiral Wu Sheng Li told his US counterpart John Richardson that China doesn’t seek to militarise the reefs, but that the amount of eventual militarisation depends on the ‘level of threat’ that China faces.

The much-discussed Code of Conduct remains a holy grail. All ASEAN members have to agree on such a code, and this would be difficult. Moreover, China wouldn’t want any form of dispute settlement mechanism in the code.

But this doesn’t mean that regional countries are without arrows in their quivers. The Supreme Court of the Philippines has upheld the Enhanced Defence Cooperation Agreement between Manila and Washington, which could pave the way for augmented rotational basing of US troops on Philippine soil. Vietnam, too, is intensifying defence relations with the United States. And a PCA decision that comes down in favour of Manila would impact China.

What China has, however, is the luxury of time and space. A recent study by RAND shows that what were dominant US advantages over China in a Spratlys conflict in 1996 will turn into approximate parities or disadvantages come 2017. In 1996, the US held ‘major advantages’ in 8 out of 9 areas, including air superiority, counterspace and anti-surface warfare. Come 2017, the major advantages will be whittled down to two: the US’ ability to carry out attacks on air bases and US anti-surface warfare.

There is no doubt that China is isolated on the South China Sea issue. But that judgement misses the nuance of the situation. In recent years, China has worked hard to win friends and influence people. China’s now the top trading partner for most Asian countries; the rise of the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank and its One Belt, One Road strategy have been well received.

Even the US, one of the most vocal countries when it comes to China’s activities in the South China Sea, has sought to put the relations on an even keel. Speaking to his Chinese counterpart in Beijing recently, John Kerry said that both sides would need to work on a new UN resolution targeting North Korea after its nuclear test on 6 January. He added that both the US and China agreed they needed to find ways to ease tensions in the South China Sea.

As Thomas Christensen writes in The China Challenge, the best way to avoid the ‘tragic spirals of tension’ that has accompanied power transitions of the past is to build trust through cooperation—for example, the US distancing itself from Taiwanese independence, fostering cooperation with China in initiatives like the Six Party Talks and through anti-piracy efforts off the Gulf of Aden.

In the South China Sea, China sits entrenched at the top of the hill. Unless the US and its allies take more forceful action, China’s island building represents a gradual chipping away at the edifice of regional order that the US has built over the decades.

Trumped-up: a non-aligned Australia?

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Mark Beeson’s latest post, speculating about the future of the ANZUS alliance under a Trump presidency, quietly champions the idea of an ‘independent, non-aligned Australia’. Such an Australia, Mark argues, wouldn’t have to make difficult choices between the US and China—rather, it could avoid those choices altogether. And such an Australia wouldn’t have to bear the costs in blood and treasure that its current alliance obligation imposes upon it. Wow, no difficult choices and low costs!

What’s wrong with that logic? Well, non-alignment would be attractive only if it allowed us to pursue our national interests rather better than we do now. But Australians have never believed it would. We’ve never been non-aligned, never gone to war alone. Our strategic history is a story of relationships with two great and powerful friends—the United Kingdom and the United States—because we’ve seen those relationships as mechanisms to advance national and regional security. And they’ve given us access to defence technologies, logistical support, training opportunities and intelligence that we couldn’t begin to duplicate locally.

Why would we want to throw away those advantages? Mark worries that Donald Trump—an ‘extremist’—might win the US presidency and promote a strategic policy so dreadful that George W. Bush’s would seem like the teddy-bears’ picnic. Personally, I see Trump as someone shrewdly exploiting the current wave of anti-establishment sentiment in US politics. Surely he’s doing no favours for the right wing of US politics. Maybe we’ll end up with a Trump taking out the Republican nomination and even the presidency—the future is mercifully veiled. But there’s many a slip twixt cup and lip.

Still, as Prime Minister Turnbull recently observed in Washington, Australia stands ready to work with whoever the US electorate, in its wisdom, chooses as president. That’s certainly been the pattern in the past. When Ronald Reagan was first elected, some noted that a B-grade actor who had once starred opposite a chimpanzee scarcely constituted promising material for the Oval Office. Yet Reagan went on to be one of the great US presidents.

Were even Bush’s policies that bad? True, post 9/11 Bush embarked upon a transformational set of national security goals. Those weren’t the goals upon which he’d been elected in 2000. Then his global agenda had been—to use Derek Chollet and James Goldgeier’s description—‘utterly conventional’. In the wake of the 9/11 attacks, Bush appealed to what Walter Russell Mead once called the ‘Jacksonian’ school in US politics—a school which ‘represents a deeply embedded, widely spread populist and popular culture of honor, independence, courage and military pride among the American people’. The Global War on Terror might have arisen under Bush, but—notwithstanding a name change—it’s with us today, and not about to end anytime soon, regardless of who wins the presidency later this year.

Let’s pivot back to Australia. I’m keen to know what it is that a non-aligned Australia could do that we can’t do now. Some have argued we’d be better placed to be ‘part of Asia’. But a close defence relationship with Washington isn’t un-Asian—many Asian countries have one. Japan, South Korea, the Philippines and Thailand are formal allies. Taiwan has a close relationship. So does Singapore. India and Vietnam are drawing closer to the US, not becoming more distant.

Strategically, would we be in a better place for distancing ourselves from the Americans? I’m with those who believe that non-alignment would cost us more and deliver us less. There are some parts of the alliance commitment—US extended nuclear assurance, for example—that we’d find hard to replicate at any price. And if we were to take our strategic responsibilities seriously, playing a part in both our region and the wider world, our defence spending would go up, not down.

Moreover, I suspect we’d be confronted by a set of strategic choices just as pressing as the one we currently face. Australia, because of its size and weight, would remain a player in Asia, even if a weaker one for having cut its ties to the US. Washington and Beijing, plus a host of other regional capitals, might well be more interested than ever in Canberra’s ‘independent’ policy stance. Supporters of a non-aligned Australia would probably argue than we would be free to make those choices on the basis of national interest. But that’s exactly what we do now.

Besides, being an ally is scarcely an anomaly in the modern world. Indeed, among the countries of the developed world, being an ally is an entirely normal condition. NATO ties 26 European countries and Canada to the US and each other. And that’s before we count the US allies in Asia, or its security partners there and elsewhere. Alliances don’t endure merely because policy-makers are too feckless to terminate them. They endure because they continue to be practical instruments of strategic policy. ANZUS is already into its 65th year. The smart money should be on it getting to its 75th, regardless of who’s president in the US.

ASPI suggests

Justin Trudeau

It’s all happening over in Davos, Switzerland, as the World Economic Forum hosts its 2016 Annual Meeting. As The Economist mused earlier in the week, ‘The scope for Davos satire is boundless: billionaires fretting about inequality; legions of personal assistants scheduling meetings about automation; and Bono’. Highlights so far include remarks from the US Vice President Joe Biden; a conversation between Fareed Zakaria and Israeli PM Benjamin Netanyahu; and an incredibly optimistic presentation from Canadian PM, Justin Trudeau. The theme of this year’s confab is ‘the fourth industrial revolution’, with FT nominating the four big issues to be automation, China, emerging markets and the Brexit. But at the end of the day, the uninvited and unwelcome guest intruding on this year’s meet is the significant degree of uncertainty borne of a gloomy economic outlook. Here are some snaps from the event so far.

To mark 25 years since the start of Operation Desert Storm, The Atlantic have pulled together a photo essay capturing the mood on the streets of the US and on the ground in Iraq and Kuwait. 2016 also marks 100 years since Sykes Picot; head over to The Strategy Bridge for a consideration of the agreement’s implications.

The Taliban, or its offshoots, have claimed responsibility for two horrific attacks that took place on Wednesday. The first, a suicide bombing in Kabul, essentially fulfils a threat made by the terrorist group last October to treat the country’s ‘satanic [television] networks’ as ‘military objectives’. The Diplomat looks at how the Taliban are attempting to justify the attack by branding the victims as a foreign intelligence network rather than journalists.

The second attack took place at Bacha Khan University in northern Pakistan, just over a year since the horrifying Peshawar school attack which led to the deaths of 148 people, predominantly children. The Guardian asks why terrorist groups are increasingly targeting schools, colleges and universities. And Foreign Policy carries a piece which argues that Pakistan should build more schools to counter the negative effects of Taliban attacks on education in the country’s Federally Administered Tribal Areas.

CSIS this week released a major study on the Obama administration’s rebalance to the Asia–Pacific, which considers US strategy, force posture, capabilities and partnerships across the region. Catch up with the report launch event here.

During his time in power, Xi Jinping has broken the record for being China’s most jet-setting president. However, until Tuesday of this week, he hadn’t set foot in the Middle East. There’s been no shortage of analysis on what to expect from his high profile visit; The Wall Street Journal has deemed ‘jockeying between Iran and Saudi Arabia’ for Chinese favour as likely, while CNBC has indicated that Xi’s meetings will focus on foreign policy as well as One Belt One Road. For some background reading, check out this report from Chatham House (PDF), which asks whether China might seek to fill a ‘geopolitical vacuum’ left by the US’ gradual withdrawal from the Middle East. Alternatively, the English language version of the Chinese government’s ‘Arab Policy Paper’, which is the first of its kind and offers some context to Xi’s visit, was released earlier this month.

And finally, in another resounding triumph for both North Korea and communism, The Pyongyang Times revealed this week that the DPRK has invented a hangover-free alcohol that’s a hit with both ‘experts’ (in what field remains unclear) and ‘lovers’ alike. Foreign Policy, who were unfortunately unable to reach the hermit kingdom’s experts and lovers for comment, reported that the liquor, which ‘exudes national flavour’, gets its unique tang from ginseng and scorched rice.

Video

Chatham House has released a chat between (27 mins) of Mark Malloch-Brown and Jonathan Prentice, both of the International Crisis Group, where they discuss the ten most prominent crises to watch in 2016.

Podcasts

In case you missed it, The ABC’s Richard Fidler last year invited former war correspondent for Time and CNN, Michael Ware, to discuss Daesh creator Abu Musab al-Zarqawi and his stunning documentary ‘Only The Dead’. The Brisbane-born Ware pulled the doco together using footage he’d shot with a hand-held camera at the time of the invasion of Iraq in 2003. Highly recommended for Ware’s enlightening thoughts of the Middle East, war and journalism.

Artificial intelligence has been high on the agenda across the last few days in Davos. FT’s Murad Ahmet sat down with Erik Brynjolfsson of the MIT for a short discussion on the sidelines of the Forum. Take a listen here.

Events

Canberra: Whip out your diaries quickly, because this event is unmissable. David Kilcullen—former senior advisor to General Petraeus and author of the Quarterly Essay ‘Blood Year’—will speak at ANU’s Bell School on 22 February, focusing on the errors of governments and militaries in this new chapter of the War on Terror.

US–China relations in an evolving regional strategic landscape

Great Wall of China

The recent freedom of navigation operation undertaken by the USS Lassen in the South China Sea advertises a new sharper edge to US–China relations. Some analysts have begun to write about a ‘tipping point’ in the relationship (see here and here); media reports sometimes talk of a relationship in crisis. It’s not that bad—yet—but things are getting more serious. To see why, we need to look at the broader regional landscape and then fit US–China relations into that. The US–China bilateral relationship is undoubtedly the region’s most important, but Asia’s no G2—it’s a large theatre with no common front line and a high level of economic interdependence.

Indeed, we’re moving into a world of uneven multipolarity in Asia. It’s easiest to see the shift by using a long baseline: compare the relative weightings of the major players in 1995 with what they are now. In 1995 US preponderance was so marked that all other players looked like minions. But 20 years later we see an Asia characterised by a number of strong players: China, Japan and India in the top tier; South Korea, Australia, Indonesia in the second tier; and a range of regional states—like Vietnam—in fast-growing Southeast Asia.

Still, power relativities are shifting more than regional order. Japan’s determined to add some cross-bracing to the current order, seeing that as offering the legitimacy it needs for a larger role. India doesn’t have the influence or the wish to redesign the East Asian order: its growing gravitational weight is still felt most in the Indian Ocean and on the subcontinent. And China’s strategic vision still emphasises a Great Wall, a set of deferential neighbours, and a smaller US presence in proximity to the Wall. But China doesn’t like the current order, which was built at a time when it was weak. It doesn’t believe that, in the long run, the Asian regional order should be shaped in Washington.

The second-tier players are generally too weak to promote their own visions of an Asian order. South Korea and Australia are, in any event, both US allies. Indonesia isn’t, but—like most ASEAN states—it’s disposed to prefer either US primacy to Chinese hegemony or (at worst) a stable great-power equipoise in a peaceful multipolar Asia.

The US is attempting a ‘rebalance’ to Asia. But Washington’s conscious of its global obligations (including to Europe and the Middle East), weary after 14 years of effort post-9/11, and keen to address a range of domestic issues. It knows too that even a successful rebalance won’t restore the US to the degree of primacy it enjoyed in the 1990s.

So in the long run, the US seeks a modus vivendi with a rising, peaceful China. The two countries’ annual Strategic and Economic Dialogue and growing trade figures underline that objective (bilateral trade has grown by 7,550% 1985-2014). But read Lawrence Summers’ latest piece for The Washington Post: ‘the world—including China—is unprepared for China’s rise’. Summers believes the US still has serious questions to answer in relation to the relationship. Does it want a more prosperous China or a less prosperous one? Does it have a coherent picture of its preferences in terms of China’s policy choices? Does it have a sensible picture of future architectural arrangements?

Similar questions exist in the strategic field: does the US want a stronger China whose weight is felt more around the region or a weaker China whose weight is felt less? For the US—and Australia—the answer, of course, varies depending on what sort of great power China turns out to be. In the South China Sea we see a coercive power, not a consultative one—a power unwilling to accept international arbitration. Nationalism’s a potent driver in Chinese foreign policy at the moment. Moreover, China’s growing weight is felt most starkly along the Eurasian rimlands, in ways that are corrosive of the current strategic order. The contests in the East China Sea and South China Sea aren’t really about rocks—they’re about hierarchy in a future regional security environment.

And there’s a second level of complication: the US and China have to work out their relationship in full view of the region—a region which includes a number of US allies who don’t want the US to treat China as a peer. They worry that its doing so would imply a marginalisation of the hub-and-spokes structure.

The good news is that the Thucydides ‘trap’ isn’t inevitable: rising powers aren’t doomed to clash with established ones. Economic interdependence and nuclear weapons lessen the prospects of war. And military manoeuvring in the South China Sea is still about ‘signalling’, not conflict. But the bad news is that some form of clash seems increasingly likely. The US can’t move to offshore balancing without spooking its own allies; but China’s idea of the US as an ‘outsider’ implies just such a shrinking role for the US in Asia. Troubled waters lie ahead.