Cyber-enabled election interference has already changed the course of history. Whether or not the Russian interference campaign during the US 2016 federal election was enough to swing the result, the discovery and investigation of the campaign and its negative effects on public trust in the democratic process have irrevocably shaped the path of Donald Trump’s presidency.

Covert foreign interference presents a clear threat to fundamental democratic values. As nations around the world begin to wake up to this threat, new research by ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre has identified the key challenges democracies face from cyber-enabled election interference, and makes five core recommendations about how to guard against it.

ICPC researchers studied 97 national elections which took place between 8 November 2016 and 30 April 2019. The 97 were chosen out of the 194 national-level elections that occurred during the time period because they were held in countries ranked as ‘free’ or ‘partly free’ in Freedom House’s Freedom in the world report.

The study focused on cases of cyber-enabled interference (for example, social media influence campaigns or hacking operations). It didn’t include offline methods of foreign influence, such as large donations. Foreign interference was measured according to the yardstick provided by former prime minister Malcolm Turnbull when he described ‘unacceptable interference’ as ‘foreign influence activities that are in any way covert, coercive or corrupt’.

Of the 97 elections and 31 referendums reviewed, foreign interference was identified in 20 countries: Australia, Brazil, Colombia, the Czech Republic, Finland, France, Germany, Indonesia, Israel, Italy, Malta, Montenegro, the Netherlands, North Macedonia, Norway, Singapore, Spain, Taiwan, Ukraine and the US.

Interference was overwhelmingly attributed to Russia or China. The research found a strong geographical link between attributed sources of foreign interference and target countries. Interference in 15 of the 20 countries was attributed to Russia, primarily in Europe and South America, while Chinese interference campaigns showed a strong focus on the Asia–Pacific.

The research identified three categories of interference:

• interference targeting voting infrastructure and voter turnout
• interference in the information environment around elections
• long-term erosion of public trust in governments, political leadership and public institutions.

Of the three, direct tampering with voter results is the most disturbing because it overturns the will of the people. Perhaps the most egregious case took place in Ukraine back in 2014 (a date outside the scope of the ICPC dataset). Just 40 minutes before the election results were due to go live on national television, a virus was discovered on the computer system of the Central Election Commission. The malware was intended to alter the results of the vote to hand victory to ultra-nationalist Right Sector party leader Dmytro Yarosh.

A more subtle method of interference is altering the information environment in which elections take place—thereby illegitimately persuading voters to change their votes themselves, rather than tampering with the vote after the fact.

This kind of interference is by its nature difficult to detect, even for those whose job it is to sniff out fakes and liars. During the interference campaign in the US in 2016, for example, Russian operatives created a fake Black Lives Matter activist. The ‘Luisa Haynes’ persona was so convincing that it accrued over 50,000 Twitter followers, and its tweets were quoted in news stories by the BBC, USA Today, Time, Wired and the Huffington Post.

The third category is both the most slippery and the most pernicious: the deliberate erosion of trust in public institutions. These kinds of campaigns target key public bodies such as electoral commissions—for example, implying that government officials may themselves be tampering with the vote results. The impact of this type of interference is difficult to quantify, but recent polls by Pew and Gallup have found widespread declines in public trust in democracy as a whole.

Defending the democratic process from cyber-enabled interference will be a complex, long-term challenge. The ICPC’s researchers have identified seven steps which policymakers should take to help safeguard against such interference efforts.

1. Targets are limited: respond accordingly

The vast majority of campaigns have so far been attributed to only two primary actors, and their targets are aligned with those nations’ strategic goals. Democracies should calibrate their policy responses to the likely risk, methods and adversary. The US and European states are clear targets of the Russian government; Indo-Pacific nations are targets of the Chinese Communist Party.

2. Build up detection capabilities

More effort is needed to detect foreign interference, including offline and non-state efforts. Because democracies have a natural aversion to government surveillance, a better answer than simply stepped-up government monitoring may be supporting non-profit, non-government initiatives and independent media. These groups can more credibly monitor for interference and more easily engage at the community level.

3. Fund research to measure impact and measure the effectiveness of education campaigns to address public concerns

Governments should fund research to develop better ways to measure the impact of foreign interference to allow for a more informed decision on resourcing efforts to counter it. There’s a lack of empirical data on the impacts of foreign interference and the effectiveness of various attempts to combat it, such as fact-checking services.

4. Publicly fund the defence of political parties

Political parties and individual politicians are clear targets of foreign adversaries. With their shoestring budgets and the requirement to scale up dramatically during election campaigns, they’re no match for the resources of sophisticated state actors. There’s a strong public interest in preventing foreign states from being able to exploit breaches of political parties and individual politicians to undermine domestic political processes. Democratic governments should consider public funding to better protect all major political parties and to step up cybersecurity support to politicians.

5. Impose costs

Democracies need to look at better ways of changing the risk calculus and imposing costs on adversaries. Democracies should consider concerted joint global or regional action, as well as more traditional approaches such as retaliatory sanctions. Legislation may also be needed to make it more difficult for adversaries to operate.

6. Look beyond the digital

Russian interference is detectable, if not immediately, then often after the event. This has generated a natural focus on Moscow’s methods and activities. However, there are many more subtle ways to interfere in democracies. Research like this study, which focuses on digital attack mechanisms, also misses more traditional and potentially more corrosive tactics, such as the provision of funding to political parties by foreign states and their proxies and the long-term cultivation of political influence by foreign actors. States, particularly those in the Indo-Pacific, should be attuned to these types of interference and make preparations to prevent, counter and expose them.

7. Look beyond states

Troubling public perceptions of democracy are unlikely to be explained by foreign interference alone. Foreign interference may, however, magnify or exploit underlying sources of tension and grievance. A thorough response by government and civil society needs to consider a wider set of issues and threat actors, including trolls working for profit, and the health of the political and media environment.

The late historian Eric Hobsbawm described the 20th century as the ‘age of extremes’, in which state socialism led to the gulag; liberal capitalism led to cyclical depressions; and nationalism led to two world wars. He then predicted that the future would amount to a prolongation of the past and present, characterised by ‘violent politics and violent political changes’ and by ‘social distribution, not growth’.

History may not repeat itself, but it does frequently rhyme. Former British prime minister Margaret Thatcher’s famous claim that ‘there is no such thing as society’, but only ‘individual men and women’ certainly rhymes with the divisive worldview and self-serving behaviour of today’s populist demagogues.

Today, like in the 20th century, nationalism is tearing societies apart and dividing erstwhile allies, by fuelling antagonism towards the ‘other’ and justifying physical and legal protectionist barriers. The world’s major powers have largely resumed their Cold War postures, preparing themselves psychologically, if not militarily, for open conflict.

As Hobsbawm predicted, skyrocketing income inequality has emerged as a major cause of rising nationalism, anti-globalisation sentiment and even the shift towards authoritarianism. Reconfirming the connection between bad economics and political extremism—highlighted by John Maynard Keynes in the aftermath of World War I—a decade of austerity in Europe has weakened the foundations of the welfare state and driven millions of voters into the arms of populists.

Ironically, a major reason why today’s politics increasingly rhyme with 20th-century developments is the fear of repeating the Great Depression—a fear that emerged after the 2008 financial crisis seemed to rhyme with the 1929 stock-market crash. Germany, for example, became obsessed with austerity, in order to ensure that runaway inflation did not contribute to dictatorship, as it had in the 1920s.

But austerity went too far, enabling anti-establishment politicians to capitalise on economic hardship (along with xenophobia and misogyny) to win support. Struggling to compete electorally, many mainstream parties moved away from the centre, causing the entire political field to become increasingly polarised.

This trend can be seen in the United States, where, under President Donald Trump’s leadership, the Republican Party has become practically devoid of moderate voices. It can also be seen in the United Kingdom, where a more radical Labour Party under Jeremy Corbyn’s leadership faces a Conservative Party held hostage by pro-Brexit extremists.

In Italy, the populist Five Star Movement and the nationalist League party have united in a flaky governing coalition following the electoral collapse of the country’s mainstream political forces. When Italian prime minister Giuseppe Conte proclaimed to Vladimir Putin that Russia is Italy’s ‘strategic partner’, it became clear that Italy, a core member of the EU and NATO, had become a potentially destabilising power.

In Spain, the People’s Party (PP) has become openly nationalist under the leadership of the hardline Pablo Casado. Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez’s Spanish Socialist Workers’ Party is the PP’s mirror image, having abandoned the centrist legacy of Felipe González in order to compete with the far-left populists of Podemos.

In Germany, voters in Bavaria and Hesse abandoned German chancellor Angela Merkel’s center-right Christian Democratic Union and its sister party, the Christian Social Union, in droves. The Greens drew votes from the more moderate Social Democratic Party, and the far-right Alternative für Deutschland gained significant ground. With the centre gutted, Germany’s capacity to remain the bulwark of a united Europe is in jeopardy. Even the notion that a radical—even neo-fascist—leader could one day rule Germany again no longer looks farfetched.

As democracies abandon moderation, abuses of power are proliferating, and social and political tensions are rising. In the US, Trump routinely demonises opponents and dehumanises marginalised groups; during his first year in office, politically motivated murders, perpetrated primarily by fanatical white supremacists, doubled. Several prominent Democrats or party supporters were recently sent pipe bombs.

The risks posed by these developments are hardly confined to the countries in question. Maintaining relative global peace—or at least avoiding major interstate wars—depends on strong alliances and leaders’ awareness of the devastation their weapons can cause. But, at a time when shortsighted, radical and inexperienced figures are gaining power, both of these bulwarks against war have been weakened.

In fact, the framework of global peace is already coming under mounting pressure. Because of Russian President Vladimir Putin’s relentless revanchism, Russia’s borders with NATO are now the sites of the most extensive military build-up since the Cold War.

Making matters worse, Trump has pulled the US out of the Intermediate-range Nuclear Forces Treaty, unravelling decades of progress on nuclear arms control. He seems to hope to force Russia (and China) into a new deal by threatening to ‘develop the weapons’. But he is unlikely to succeed. Whereas Ronald Reagan was negotiating with the reform-minded Mikhail Gorbachev, Trump would be facing the power-hungry Putin.

The risks the world faces are compounded by new—and inadequately regulated—technologies. Cyber warfare is already a daily reality; indeed, at any moment, a cyberattack could be launched against a NATO country, potentially triggering the alliance’s mutual-defence guarantee. Likewise, the United Nations has so far failed to overcome opposition to regulation of the use of lethal autonomous weapons based on artificial intelligence.

The risk of violent conflict will continue to rise as the effects of climate change intensify. Among other things, massive desertification in the Middle East and Africa would bring famines that dwarf those of the 20th century in scale. Human migration would surge, and struggles over resources would intensify. Despite efforts to secure multilateral cooperation, in today’s Hobbesian world, the slide towards climate chaos seems unstoppable.

The challenges facing the world today would have been unimaginable in the 20th century. But the underlying political dynamics are all too familiar. It is time for us to take stock of what those dynamics portend, and take seriously the lessons historical memory holds.

Conventional narratives on Canada see the country as a boring, or inconsequential, state, a middle power, but one whose influence is hamstrung by its economic reliance on the United States and whose power is diminished by the sheer size, scope and power of its neighbour. While the latter part of that assessment is generally true, the idea that Canada’s boring—or, indeed, inconsequential—is far from accurate. Canada is a fascinating mess of a country, one that has been able to deliver great peace, wealth and opportunity to its residents despite incessant internal disputes. Its tensions are so ingrained that the notion that Canada is even a country at all has been questioned.

A more compelling argument would be that Canada is a ‘post-national’ state, one that is able to function in the international sphere like any other, but has such internal diversity, and such deep regional interests, that the significant bonds of history, culture, ethnicity and language struggle to provide sufficient glue. As a highly decentralised federation, its provinces wield incredible power and often see their role as defending their own interests against those of other provinces, and especially against Canada itself.

Despite being governed by the same party, Alberta and British Columbia have been engaged in a bitter stand-off over the construction of an oil pipeline to the Pacific coast. The federal government has subsequently bought the project in an attempt to circumvent actors in BC, but courts have continually ruled in favour of BC interests. The situation is fuelling intense frustration in Alberta (which is rich in oil), with serious figures questioning how the province can function within the federation. As a landlocked province, Alberta doesn’t see separatism as a serious solution to its market-access problems, but the suspicion of the federation as an impediment to regional interests has been a persistent sentiment throughout Canada.

Nowhere is this sentiment more prominent than in Quebec. For the past 50 years, a campaign to achieve sovereign status has dominated Quebec politics, and as a result has weighed heavily on Ottawa’s national strategy. During this period, the Parti Québécois, the main democratic vehicle to achieve this goal, has won five provincial elections, held two referendums on sovereignty and generally been a nuisance to Ottawa’s attempts to foster greater national unity. At an election in Quebec last week, however, the party was reduced to a small rump in the legislature. From governing the province in 2014, the party is now Quebec’s fourth party, and seems unlikely to regain its influence.

Quebec separatism has been Canada’s primary internal strategic threat in the last several decades. While the Parti Québécois has always been staunch in its commitment to using democratic means to achieve its aims, other groups have not. Through the 1960s, the Front de libération du Québec (FLQ) unleashed a wave of bombings in the province, killing eight people and injuring many more. The group’s acts of violence culminated in the kidnapping and murder of a Quebec cabinet minister, and the kidnapping of a British diplomat (who was found by police after 60 days). These events led to the federal government invoking the War Measures Act in 1970, placing the military on the streets of Montreal and arresting hundreds of people suspected of collusion with the FLQ.

Public distaste for the FLQ’s activities didn’t translate to a suspicion of separatism itself, and at the third election it contested in 1976, the Parti Québécois won a decisive victory, allowing it to hold the first referendum on Quebec sovereignty in 1980. Voters overwhelmingly rejected the proposition, however, with close to 60% of the province voting against it. Yet if Ottawa had hoped that this result would lead to the decline of the separatist movement and a more unified political environment, it was to be disappointed.

While lacking the violence of the 1960s, the 1990s proved to be Canada’s most politically turbulent decade. Quebec separatists formed a party to run at federal elections, the Bloc Québécois. This came not long after the rise of the Reform Party, which was formed as a result of significant alienation felt in the country’s western provinces and primarily concerned with advancing western interests in Ottawa. By 1993, with the conservative vote split, the Bloc Québécois had become Canada’s official opposition, leaving the governing Liberal Party (the primary champion of Canada as an idea) with an opposition hostile to the Canadian state and making the Reform Party, with its deep suspicions towards the federation, a third party of significant weight.

Having regained power in Quebec, the Parti Québécois held another referendum on separation from Canada in 1995. This referendum was a far more intense affair, with a highly spirited and emotional campaign and a result that brought Canada to the edge of dissolution (50.58% voted to remain). The close result led the federal government to create the Clarity Act, legislation that outlined the conditions under which the Canadian government would enter into negotiations with a province attempting to secede from the federation.

While the Parti Québécois’s poor electoral performance at last week’s Quebec election—and the apparent death of the sovereignty movement—will be a great relief for Ottawa, its replacement is not exactly comforting. Alongside the rejection of the PQ, the staunch federalist Quebec Liberal Party had its worst performance since its founding in 1867, securing only a quarter of the vote. Instead, a new nationalist—but not sovereigntist—party was swept to power. While the PQ is hostile to the Canadian state, it’s doubtful that the Coalition Avenir Quebec even thinks about Canada at all. A thoroughly insular party, its leader couldn’t even answer basic questions about Canada during the election campaign.

Quebec’s election result could foreshadow a future for Canada in which the state still functions as a whole, but its primary identities and interests remain local, if not secessionist. It would be a country that continues to be conceptualised and romanticised by the idealists in the Liberal Party and begrudgingly accepted by everyone else.

Democratic elections, through history, have never been perfect in function or outcome. The August polls in Kenya, Rwanda and Angola are sure to be imperfect, in their own ways.

Much ink will be spilled on the state of democracy in Africa based on what takes place, but the important stuff that will affect democratic outcomes, or not, has already happened in the months, even years, leading up to these elections.

Popular demands that elections reflect the people’s will are growing louder in Africa. But significant political will at multiple levels is needed to overcome abuses, blatant and subtle, that have impaired electoral progress. Longer-term failings in civil education and engagement require even deeper commitment.

Key steps to improve African elections and restore the ‘power of the vote’ to citizens might include the following:

• The playing field between incumbents and the opposition should be levelled. Incumbency is hard to overcome even in strong democracies. Abuses by democratically elected governments in Africa—of the public purse, security services, media, courts, electoral commissions—require specific remedies.
• Electoral commissions must be strictly independent and professional, not politically appointed.
• Campaign funding needs to be brought under control. Western models and formulas for placing all parties on a more equal footing and exposing financial flows to scrutiny could be adapted.
• In the face of likely electoral malfeasance, strong collaboration between opposition parties is essential. Zambia’s disputed election is instructive. Had the main opposition party (whose leader is imprisoned on trumped-up treason charges, at the time of writing) formed coalitions with other parties, might the government have been more constrained in its abuse of judicial and security processes? In 2015, Nigeria’s main opposition party would not have overcome a determined incumbent had it not joined with like-minded groups.
• The role of the security services in safeguarding constitutions (not regimes) needs to be reinforced. This is impossible when the state and party have become one. Legitimate political opposition is then portrayed by governments in the grammar of security (‘enemies of the state’). That usually transforms into a grammar of violence around election time, as Zimbabweans and others know well.

All elections are local and there are limits to what regional or global actors can do. Except in cases of widespread bloodshed and violence, the international community rarely sanctions governments or opposition parties (when they’re at fault). A crude ethos has developed on African elections that if there was no violence, then basically it was a ’good’ election.

No one wants bad leaders. But we need to care more about how elections are won, not just who wins. Many, if not most, African elections still lie in an ambiguous grey area, neither totally ‘free and fair’ nor explicitly rigged, and observation missions have not found an effective vocabulary or the means of responding. ‘Free and fair election’ tells us little about its quality or how things have changed over time. A grading system (1–10) could give assessments more weight, and more teeth, should elections be declared invalid. This could entail real political consequences for abusers.

Africa’s been a global pioneer in the use of election technology. It was first used in the Democratic Republic of Congo in 2006 and about half of national elections now involve digital equipment. Deployed effectively, technology such as biometric voter registration can ensure there are accurate lists of voters and reduce the scope for rigging.

Many governments and segments of the international development community have deified new technology as a panacea for all that ails African elections. But technology can’t fix broken institutions or replace political will. Nor is it a substitute for doing the basics—such as developing reliable government records of national populations (deaths, births, marriages). Until the conditions giving rise to politicisation and manipulation are addressed, Africa shouldn’t waste resources on expensive gadgets.

More money should be spent on civil education, which is vital to formulating ideas about elections, not as events but as embedded parts of democracy. Knowing your rights and responsibilities as citizens doesn’t happen naturally. Africa’s colonial history is an unhelpful guide to understanding what a good election and well-functioning democracy look like. Many elections still do more to entrench the winner-takes-all mentality than loosen it. The rewards of victory are too great, the costs of failure too severe.

Public indifference expedites authoritarian behaviour. Education and dialogue on democracy are the best antidotes to voter apathy. In states affected by war, young people who succumb to election ennui require urgent attention, lest they see violence as a route to better lives.

South Africa’s Independent Electoral Commission is Africa’s current standard-bearer. Doubtless it will face its sternest test of the post-apartheid era in 2019 if the African National Congress, which has run the country since 1994, adopts undemocratic means to shore up its waning popularity. Many fear a dramatic amplification of previously used tactics in an effort to win an election of unprecedented competitiveness. In the past, the ANC has been accused of distributing food parcels to buy votes, using government resources to boost electioneering, and issuing tenders to raise campaign funds. And no one reading about the alleged activities of the State Security Agency could be assured of its neutrality. Maintenance of the IEC’s professionalism and independence is sacrosanct.

If past elections in democratic South Africa are a reliable guide, the incumbent in the Union Buildings deserves the benefit of the doubt. It’s a proud history. What has happened in Zambia, Zimbabwe and elsewhere at election time is not fated to happen here. But South Africans must nevertheless be prepared. The better angels of the ANC have not been seen for a while.

National election campaigns remain vulnerable to cyber threats in two main areas, as ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre noted in its recent publication, Securing democracy in the digital age.

Political elections consist of the procedural and technical processes to collect and tally votes and the arena of ideas where policies, platforms and promises are debated and discussed. In the 2016 US presidential election, for example, attempts were made to manipulate both the voting apparatus and the public discourse.

Canada’s Communications Security Establishment (CSE), the counterpart of the US National Security Agency and the Australian Signals Directorate, has just released a report titled Cyber threats to Canada’s democratic process. The report takes a threat modelling approach to identifying election risks. That process helps people to understand and prioritise threats by identifying potential attackers and how they could carry out an attack. The report identifies possible threats (or ‘threat actors’ in security jargon)—such as hacktivists, cybercriminals, terrorists and nation-states—that might interfere with the democratic process, and assesses their motivations and capabilities.

Some can be classed as incidental threats. Cybercriminals might accidentally affect an election because they’re casting a wide net in their criminal enterprise, but are not likely to intentionally try to affect the election outcome. Hacktivists or nation-states might deliberately try to influence the outcome of an election, and CSE classifies those as strategic threats.

The report examines how threat actors might influence an election, such as through distributed denial-of-service attacks that overwhelm a site with bogus internet traffic, defacing a website, cyber-espionage and spreading fake news.

The modelling quickly identifies threats to entities involved in the election process, such as political parties, electoral commissions, voters and the media, and helps them prioritise those threats according to their consequences and likelihoods.

Understanding the environment and having an accurate assessment of the threats are key. CSE used both open-source and classified intelligence to assess threats and provides case studies that illustrate how democratic processes have been affected by cyber intrusions.

CSE assesses that hacktivist activity is all but certain at the next Canadian election in 2019. It is unsure about whether nation-states (i.e. Russia) will make an appearance, saying that will depend on how adversaries perceive Canada’s foreign and domestic policies, and on the spectrum of policies candidates espouse.

The CSE report doesn’t suggest solutions or mitigation strategies. But what can it tell us about protecting Australian democracy?

An all-source report, using both open and classified information on the threats facing Australian democracy, would be a useful start.

The Australian and Canadian situations are similar. Based on open-source reading, it’s highly likely that hacktivists will attempt to interfere with Australia’s next election. A foreign power may attempt to interfere depending on the state of politics and issues.

The Australian Electoral Commission should identify and protect high-value targets such as the electoral roll. Electoral databases are a potential point of leverage that could be manipulated or altered to swing elections or sow distrust in the system. There were widespread attempts to access voting systems in the 2016 US election.

Reports by the Australian Parliament and the Electoral Council of Australia and New Zealand (PDF) into electronic voting options are sensibly sober, giving highest priority to security and verifiability, while also recognising that increasing the use of technology in elections is desirable for efficiency and speed. The Joint Standing Committee on Electoral Matters recommended that current paper voting systems be augmented with electronic counting, so that paper audit trails are maintained while counting speed and accuracy are increased.

A key element would be to publicise the verification and audit procedures so that Australians maintain trust in the election outcome and see any attempted hack as causing a delay within a robust process rather than throwing the whole process into doubt.

Cyber-influence operations that are designed to swing public opinion—by spreading fake news or by releasing information to tarnish reputations—are much more troubling. Those operations require relatively few resources, take advantage of freedom of speech and expression, and use the media to amplify their message. By contrast, authoritarian governments, with their control of the media and willingness to quash dissent, are practically immune. Such attacks are also highly leveraged, taking few resources to achieve large effects.

Given the relatively cheap and asymmetric nature of the threat, adversary nation-states are likely to employ it whenever it’s in their interests. And it’s easier to carry out such attacks than to prevent them. It’s hard to even decide who has responsibility for tackling cyber-influence attacks in a democracy, and we don’t yet have a ministry of truth.

A well-informed and engaged populace is a good start, so critical thinking, especially as it relates to the internet, should be in the school curriculum. Publicly exposing influence operations is crucial and should occur within a bipartisan framework developed well away from the heat of an election. In the 2016 US election, partisan politics played a key role in preventing a timely response by the Obama administration to Russian attempts to influence the outcome of the poll.

Publicly exposing influence operations also raises the thorny issue of classifying information to protect sources and methods. US government information released in various cyber cases (e.g. Sony Pictures hack; 2016 US election (PDF)) has tended to be so vague as to be unconvincing and, given the public’s declining trust in government, it’s not effective—for some large minority of the population—for intelligence agencies to say, ‘Trust us, we know things’. But transparently revealing all your corroborating information is a terrible idea, too. Rather, it’s a case of appropriate calibration and balancing the possible future value of intelligence sources against the need to protect Western democracies from foreign interference.

Finally, we should look to the Europeans for advice and inspiration. They’ve been dealing with influence operations of various sorts since World War II and have considerable expertise in countering them.