Tag Archive for: India

Maritime competition and naval power in the Indo-Pacific: China’s interests and India’s security

Over the last decade, India’s progressive economic and military development has resulted in a strategic rebalancing of the geopolitical and security dynamics shaping power relations in South Asia. As China continues to expand its influence, particularly in the Indian Ocean and the larger Indo-Pacific, Beijing appears to be revealing a grand strategy that implicitly seeks to retain influence in strategic maritime zones that are also vital to Indian interests. Such a strategy threatens New Delhi’s ability to maintain credible control over regions of economic and political importance, which increases the likelihood of the two countries facing destabilised power relations.

As part of China’s new strategy to secure marine interests and increase maritime power, the Chinese government has targeted for as much as 85% of the foreign crude oil purchased by China to be carried by Chinese-controlled ships. At the end of 2014, 625 ships were on order for Chinese fleet owners (PDF), 80 of which were super-large oil tankers. Once these ships are constructed and delivered, China will become the largest tanker owner in the world. The objective of oil tanker fleet growth is two-fold: first, the degree of control China will have over oil transiting strategic lines of communication (SLOCs), like those in the Indian Ocean, will increase as a larger merchant marine and tanker fleet will provide Beijing with  legal and administrative pretext to intervene on behalf of Chinese companies and organizations operating in the region; second, this pretext will directly improve the energy

China’s reliance on Indian Ocean SLOCs has given rise to security concerns in Beijing because the surrounding region is exceedingly vulnerable to foreign disruption compared to other critical maritime zones closer to the Chinese mainland, such as the South China Sea, where sea control capabilities are relatively significant. Beijing’s understanding that commercial maritime traffic and a substantial portion of the country’s oil supply could be interrupted has reinforced its commitment to sea control capacity growth in the Indian Ocean region. That growth has centered on a major resource and human capital investment in naval modernisation, which has already begun improving the capability of the PLAN fleet to exert influence, defend strategic interests and conduct operations beyond the country’s near-seas region.

China’s evolving naval capabilities have transformed the average PLAN surface combatant into a capable multi-mission platform. The improvements to surface and sub-surface vessels, combined with the deployment of increasingly accurate and long-range offensive missile systems aboard those platforms, have transitioned the PLAN (PDF) from a strictly regional fighting force to one capable of limited, distant power projection.

In addition, over the last decade the PLAN has been using more complex and realistic training programs to ensure that its expanding arsenal of high-technology weapons is being properly employed and that combat preparedness across the fleet is sufficient. Central to the new training programs are high-end naval combat tasks that are designed to teach PLAN commanders the fundamentals of fleet action in hostile environments where a foreign navy is actively intervening against Chinese national interests.

Also adding to Chinese encroachment anxiety in New Delhi has been the expansion of Chinese port facilities throughout the Indian Ocean region, which has enhanced Beijing’s ability to resupply, forward deploy, and maintain a naval and merchant marine presence in areas far away from the Chinese mainland. The construction of a port in Gwadar, Pakistan, and the development of a permanent facility at Obock harbour in Djibouti are central components of Beijing’s strategic manoeuvring. Those facilities have introduced a deep-water basing capacity for the PLAN and Chinese commercial marine fleets—a new opportunity for Beijing to establish itself as a permanent maritime player in the Indian Ocean.

China’s naval modernisation and its aggressive strategy of utilising highly advanced warships, foreign bases and a large civil commercial shipping fleet are challenging India’s ability to secure its vital SLOCs between the Persian Gulf, Europe and East Asia. Indian policymakers have revised the country’s maritime doctrine so that it prioritises reflexive naval modernisation and capacity-building to augment a more proactive and firm foreign policy. As a result of its modernisation efforts over the past decade, India has inherited the position of one of the largest navies in the world with carrier-based air power, an expanding fleet of modern major surface combatants, and conventional and nuclear-powered submarines. The navy’s evolution has demonstrated New Delhi’s ambition to project influence and power across the Indian Ocean region and beyond—both to ensure guaranteed access to and use of SLOCs, and to develop the necessary capabilities to offset strategic gains made by China in the region.

That proactive strategy underwrites a similar trend in newly constructed Indian maritime doctrine that calls for the transition from forward presence to forward projection. An enhanced naval force structure that has the capacity and capabilities to sustain such a projection strategy and compete with an increasingly powerful PLAN will assist New Delhi in attaining security over national interests and defending against proactive threats to critical trade routes, maritime economic resources and its own merchant marine fleet.

India’s French submarines – and what we can learn

At the Mazagon Dock Shipbuilders Ltd (MDL) yard in Mumbai, ‘Venki’ Venkatesan is considered something of a tyrant. He’s the quality control manager and a key part of the team overseeing every tiny stage in the construction of six conventionally-powered Scorpene submarines, in collaboration with the French ship builder DCNS. (DCNS changed its name to ‘Naval Group’ last month.)

Venkatesan is well aware that decisions he makes now may well impact the lives of the submariners, some as yet unborn, who will operate these boats in three decades time.

There are abundant lessons at this yard in far off India for those negotiating the $50 billion contract for the Royal Australian Navy’s 12 new submarines.

Against competition from Japan, Germany and, earlier on, Sweden, the French company won the contract to design and perhaps build 12 very large Shortfin Barracuda submarines in Australia. The Shortfin is a conventionally-powered version of the nuclear-powered Barracuda submarine.

One issue is the view that lingers, mainly in South Australia, that 100% of the components of Australia’s new submarines must be made locally. The Mumbai dockyard has a very strong focus on the ‘make in India’ policy of the Modi government but, despite its best efforts, local, or ‘indigenous’ content is expected to reach just 30% in the sixth boat.

The Indians are very conscious of a weakness in their national economy that hindered early efforts to get the project moving. India made a major jump from an agrarian economic base to one heavily focussed on IT, but along the way it didn’t develop manufacturing capability on the same scale.

The Modi government is strengthening the manufacturing sector with a big push to skill the population. Naval group says that if it gets to build more Scorpenes for India after the currently contracted six, its goal will be to meet the government’s target of at least 50% local content.

The major Indian effort to modernise and significantly increase the size of its own submarine fleet is driven by concern about a steady increase in Chinese naval activity in the Indian Ocean with regular visits by the PLA Navy to the port of Karachi in neighbouring Pakistan. The strong Chinese naval presence comes amid a standoff between Chinese and India troops on the Sikkim-Bhutan border region.

The six Scorpenes may be followed by three more, and then by another six conventional submarines to be designed in India as it focusses on strengthening its own strategic industry capability. At present India’s Navy operates 13 conventional submarines and two nuclear-powered boats, one of those leased from Russia. Older Russian conventional submarines used by India are likely to be extensively refurbished to extend their lives.

Naval Group clearly wants to convince those sceptical about its Australian project that if its submarines can be built in India, they can be built in Australia.

Captain Rajiv Lath, a retired Indian Navy submariner who leads the engineering side of the project, said that, after initial problems and delays, it had come together very effectively. Each boat got easier, Captain Lath said.

The first boat, INS Kalvari, was launched in October 2015 and has test fired a torpedo and an Exocet anti-ship missile and carried out diving trials. The second, INS Khanderi, was launched in January. Simultaneous work is underway on the other four boats and the goal is to launch them at nine month intervals.

Captain Lath said he believed that while Australia had ordered 12 conventional submarines, it was likely that a decision would eventually be made to include some nuclear-powered boats.

For Australia, the details in the contract now being drafted would be crucial, he said. ‘I’m now wearing the sins and benefits of a contract they started drafting in the 1990s’.

The Indian project was a big test of the technology transfer process, Captain Lath said. ‘The first of class was very tough. We had a lot of problems in the beginning but we’ve got through the difficult part and learned from our mistakes. After initial problems with some quality assurance protocols and an unacceptably high level of defects as steel was rolled and welded for the first hull sections, by boat three the Indian yard was producing work as good as that in France, he said.
‘It was all red marks and now it’s all ticks.’

Three welders were initially sent to France to learn the high level skills needed to assemble the pressure hull. These ‘gurus’ then trained dozens of Indian welders. It would have been better to send 15 or 20 welders to France to start with, Captain Lath said.

On the issue of technology transfer, Indian engineers said they could fully understand why, after building submarines for 100 years, a nation such as France would be reluctant to hand over its technology for nothing.

The goal in future would be to design as much as possible of the technology in India. ‘We want to acquire the capability to make the platform here.’

French engineers said a major early lesson was underestimating the difficulty of building the first boat in the purchasing country.

The key was to allow enough time at the start of the project to learn the basics. ‘Don’t set out to build a submarine,’ said a Frenchman intimately involved in the transfer of key technology to India who declined to be named because he worked in high security areas. ‘You must go from bottom up. Start with the smallest design details and build upwards from there. And don’t go too fast. It takes time to build the skills your workforce needs and you can’t buy that.’

Naval Group has overseen the modernisation and expansion of the Mumbai yard that has been building fighting vessels since 1774. The managing director of the French company’s arm in India, Bernard Buisson, said he was proud that the first in the series was built from scratch in India.
Keys to that were the technology transfer process, the development of crucial quality control skills and the training of skilled local manpower.

The submarines are built in five large sections which are then welded together. Cutting and rolling the steel for the first section took several months and then that section was rejected because the work did not meet the stringent standards required. Since then the rate of defects has declined rapidly.

The government-owned shipyard, and the French company, want to build the three more Scorpenes that they hope the Indian government will order. But they are up against a Modi administration policy obliging any foreign companies building in India to operate with a local private sector partner. MDL is now considering relaunching as a majority public company.

Indian scientist are working on a new version of an air independent propulsion system to increase the time the submarines can stay deeply submerged and safe from hunting warships and aircraft.

If they succeed, a 10-metre long section to accommodate the AIP system will be added to each of the submarines still under construction at the time. That’s likely to be numbers five and six. Those already built will have the additional sections added when they undergo a two year refit after four years of operations.

A conventional diesel-electric submarine uses its electric motor for propulsion while running deep and silent. It uses its diesel engines to recharge its batteries, and to collect the oxygen necessary to run the diesels it travels on the surface or submerged at periscope depth and uses a large snorkel to suck in air. How often it has to do that compared to the time it can spend submerged is called its ‘indiscretion rate’. While snorkelling, the submarine is noisy and at its most vulnerable to searching aircraft or surface warships, and it may be spotted by satellites unseen and far above.

AIP systems are fuelled by tanks of liquefied gases such as hydrogen and oxygen which are burned in a closed unit to provide the energy to drive the boat. The latest AIP systems allow a submarine to remain submerged for three or four weeks if it ‘loiters’ at low speed to save energy.

A submarine without AIP, such as Australia’s Collins Class, can stay submerged for two or three days before it runs out of battery charge. The disadvantage of AIP is that the system takes up a lot of space and the submarine can travel no faster than about four knots while using it, compared to a top speed on batteries of over 20 knots, though only for short periods.

Because of the enormous distances its submarines range over, the RAN has so far opted for extra diesel fuel and to go without the AIP system, relying on increasingly efficient batteries to increase their submerged time.

With two of the Indian Scorpenes undergoing trials and construction of the others moving rapidly along, a French specialist compared building the first submarine to assembling a piece of flatpacked Ikea furniture. ‘You’re up ‘til midnight shouting in frustration at the first one–but once you’ve got it right the rest are much easier.’

Countering China’s high-altitude land grab

Image courtesy of Flickr user BentheCM.

Bite by kilometer-size bite, China is eating away at India’s Himalayan borderlands. For decades, Asia’s two giants have fought a bulletless war for territory along their high-altitude border. Recently, though, China has become more assertive, underscoring the need for a new Indian containment strategy.

On average, China launches one stealth incursion into India every 24 hours. Kiren Rijiju, India’s Minister of State for Home Affairs, says the People’s Liberation Army is actively intruding into vacant border space with the objective of occupying it. And according to a former top official with India’s Intelligence Bureau, India has lost nearly 2,000 square kilometers to PLA encroachments over the last decade.

The strategy underlying China’s actions is more remarkable than their scope. On land, like at sea, China uses civilian resources—herders, farmers, and grazers—as the tip of the spear. Once civilians settle on contested land, army troops gain control of the disputed area, paving the way for the establishment of more permanent encampments or observation posts. Similarly, in the South China Sea, China’s naval forces follow fishermen to carve out space for the reclamation of rocks or reefs. In both theaters, China has deployed no missiles, drones, or bullets to advance its objectives.

China’s non-violent terrestrial aggression has garnered less opposition than its blue-water ambition, which has been challenged by the United States and under international law (albeit with little effect). Indian leaders have at times even seemed to condone China’s actions. During a recent panel discussion in Russia, for example, Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi said that although China and India are at odds over borders, it was remarkable that ‘in the last 40 years, not a single bullet has been fired because of [it].’ The Chinese foreign ministry responded by praising Modi’s ‘positive remarks.’

Moreover, Modi’s predecessor, Manmohan Singh, used to claim that, in their 5,000-year history, India and China fought only one war, in 1962. What this rose-tinted history failed to acknowledge was that China and India became neighbors only after China annexed the buffer Tibet in 1951.

Given India’s accommodating rhetoric, it is easy to view the country as a paper tiger. While Modi has used the phrase ‘inch toward miles‘ as the motto of India-China cooperation, the PLA has continued its cynical territorial aggrandizement by translating that slogan into incremental advance. After spending so many years on the defensive, India must retake the narrative.

The first order of business is to abandon the platitudes. Modi’s calls for border peace and tranquility might be sincere, but his tone has made India look like a meek enabler.

China’s fast-growing trade surplus with India, which has doubled to almost $60 billion on Modi’s watch, has increased Chinese President Xi Jinping’s territorial assertiveness. The absence of clarity about the frontier—China reneged on a 2001 promise to exchange maps with India—serves as cover for the PLA’s aggression, with China denying all incursions and claiming that its troops are operating on ‘Chinese land.’ But, by acquiescing on bilateral trade—the dumping of Chinese-made steel on the Indian market is just one of many examples—India has inadvertently helped foot the bill for the PLA’s encirclement strategy.

China’s financial regional leverage has grown dramatically in the past decade, as it has become almost all Asian economies’ largest trade and investment partner. In turn, many of the region’s developing countries have moved toward China on matters of regional security and transport connectivity. But, as Modi himself has stressed, there remains plenty of room for India to engage in Asia’s economic development. A more regionally integrated Indian economy would, by default, serve as a counterweight to China’s territorial expansion.

India should also beef up its border security forces to become a more formidable barrier to the PLA. India’s under-resourced Indo-Tibetan Border Police, under the command of the home ministry, is little more than a doorman. Training and equipping these units properly, and placing them under the command of the army, would signal to China that the days of an open door are over.

If the tables were turned, and Indian forces were attempting to chip away at Chinese territory, the PLA would surely respond with more than words. But in many cases, Indian border police patrolling the area don’t even carry weapons. With such a docile response, China has been able to do as it pleases along India’s northern frontier. China’s support of the Pakistani military, whose forces often fire at Indian troops along the disputed Kashmir frontier, should be viewed in this light.

The PLA began honing its ‘salami tactics’ in the Himalayas in the 1950s, when it sliced off the Switzerland-size Aksai Chin plateau. Later, China inflicted a humiliating defeat on India in the 1962 border war, securing peace, as a state mouthpiece crowed in 2012, on its own terms. Today, China pursues a ‘cabbage’ approach to borders, cutting off access to an adversary’s previously controlled territory and gradually surrounding it with multiple civilian and security layers.

Against this backdrop, the true sign of Himalayan peace will not be the holstering of guns, but rather the end of border incursions. India’s accommodating approach has failed to deter China. To halt further encroachments, India will need to bare its own teeth.

Big Oz bets on Asia (part two)

Image courtesy of Pixabay user GregMontani.

The descriptor ‘Asia’ attempts to identify so much that it delivers sparse meaning. So making a series of big bets on Asia will help define the many tasks and pressures confronting the Foreign Policy White Paper. The Asia bets flow from the need to Trump-proof the alliance. The previous column outlined Australian bets on Japan stepping up as an independent strategic leader in Asia and on Australia seeking membership of ASEAN. Now for further bets on Indonesia and India (with China on the table next week).

These big punts are an Oz version of Pascal’s Wager, living to secure infinite gains (heaven) and avoid infinite losses (hell). Australia must wager that the emerging Asian order can achieve some levels of rationality, cohesion and peace—and not send us to hell. Indonesia is a prime example of the uncertainties that bedevil Australia’s Asia bets. Name two neighbouring states with less in common. Maybe Australia and Papua New Guinea come close. Indonesia can direct Australia’s regional dreams or dominate its nightmares. Just as Papua New Guinea shapes the way Australia thinks about the South Pacific, Indonesia frames Australia’s view of Southeast Asia.

Australia and Indonesia make a disparate pair, destined to discomfort, elevating a bit of common pragmatism to a guiding principle: we must live together though we are ever apart. The Secretary of the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade, Frances Adamson, frames the Indonesia bet in the White Paper: ‘A key question for Australian diplomacy is what influence we will have in Indonesia as it grows in stature?’

Her answer:

‘As Indonesia reaches its potential as a top-ten or even top-five economy, with strategic weight to match, we want Indonesia to look to Australia as a reliable source of acute judgements and sensitive advice.’

In this bilateral relationship, the power meter keeps shifting Jakarta’s way. The problem for Oz is a 1960s Jakarta jest that still resonates: ‘Australia is like your appendix, you only think about it when it hurts.’ In the 20th century, the relationship was defined by differences. This century, Australia must seek equality and partnership with an ever-more powerful Indonesia. Our mindset must change.

As on most things Oz–Indonesia, the late Jamie Mackie is a reliable source. Here’s a ten-point guide drawing on many years listening to Jamie, as well as the study he wrote (a decade old, yet as fresh as tomorrow): ‘Australia and Indonesia: Current problems, future prospects’.

A central Mackie thought:

‘We should endeavour to ensure at all costs that our broader regional and global policies diverge from Indonesia’s as little as possible—and ideally should follow essentially convergent trajectories.’

Continually measuring Australia’s choices against Indonesian regional policy is a distinctly new way to steer Canberra’s mindset, and will constitute one of our big bets. Such an alignment will feed into the slow shift that would see Australia and New Zealand eventually join ASEAN.

Echoes of what Australia needs with Indonesia are to be found in the completely different relationship with India. There’s certainly some overlap, for instance with organisations like the Indian Ocean Rim Association –  Malcolm Turnbull attended it’s first summit in Jakarta earlier this month.

Yet while Indonesia only thinks about Oz when it hurts, India for decades didn’t think about Australia at all. The bet on seeking strategic convergence with India is the long-term wager—see how close it is to the lead 20 years from now. In my ASPI Strategy Paper, ‘Improving on zero: Australia and India attempt strategic convergence’, the proposition is that Australia’s strategic relationship with India was so frigid it was in negative territory for decades. In the 21st century, Australia and India have begun to attempt slow convergence. The rapid shift from negative to positive means the big change in Australia’s strategic perceptions so far this century have been about India.

By contrast, the same thought about China’s rise throbs consistently from the 2000 Defence White Paper (‘the most critical issue for the security of the Asia Pacific’) through the 2009, 2013, and 2016 White Papers. The China worry just keeps intensifying.

India no longer sees Australia as merely a US strategic stooge, because New Delhi expects to get much more from Washington. The stooges get politer treatment, courtesy of the rapid creation of a US–India strategic partnership over the past 15 years. Frances Adamson points to that reality: India has taken ‘a new interest in the quality and consequence’ of the Oz–US alliance. When Adamson looks beyond that at the shape of the White Paper bet she’s candid about how much still needs to be done to shift beyond the 20th century negatives:

‘As India steps out from the Non-Aligned Movement, and emerges as a maritime power, it finds more points of interest in Australian diplomacy. India still values multilateral diplomacy highly, and India’s diplomats appreciate the energy and effectiveness we bring to it—even when they are inclined to apply the handbrake.’

Oh dear, non-alignment and the New Delhi handbrake. Much to do. Many years to go. India must be a long-term bet. Next week, the big wager on China.

The Australia­­–India–Japan trilateral: converging interests… and converging perceptions?

Image courtesy of Pixabay user Unsplash.

Back in 1967, the Australian National University held a conference on the theme, India, Japan, Australia: Partners in Asia? It was an interesting time to host such a gathering. That year witnessed a series of events with long-lasting consequences. In the throes of the Cultural Revolution, China was stoking tension with the Soviets, upping aid to North Vietnam, and flexing muscle with a hydrogen bomb test. The United States was ratcheting up military action in Indochina. The United Kingdom began closing bases East of Suez and the Soviets were preparing for their first naval foray into the Indian Ocean. Japan replaced Britain as Australia’s biggest trading partner, Suharto came to power in Jakarta, and ASEAN was founded in Bangkok.

Back in Canberra, the conference delegates agreed on the challenges their countries faced. ‘Most participants’, their host J. D. B. Miller observed, thought ‘the future in would be determined by how China behaved, and how others behaved towards China’. They were also concerned about Washington’s actions in the region and about how to secure lasting economic growth.

The delegates differed, however, in their worldviews, which shaped their perceptions of how to tackle those challenges. Among the nonaligned Indians, suspicion of the West and sympathy for socialism was clear, distancing them from the Australians and Japanese. Among the Japanese, pacifism loomed large, as did the promise of using its growing economic power to pacify the region. And among the Australians, wrestling with the legacy of Menzies, shifting views were evident, as the groundwork was laid for the major changes to foreign and defence policy in the early 1970s.

Those differences made it hard for the participants to come to any firm conclusions about how to deepen trilateral ties. Miller noted that the most likely foundation for greater cooperation between the three was a ‘sense of common danger’ emanating from the People’s Republic. But he also observed that they had different views of China—Australians saw a distant, if subversive, threat; Indians a ‘sinister force bent on humiliating India’, as Miller put it; and Japanese a misguided power, but one that patient engagement might change. Those varying perceptions, Miller thought, would make it hard to establish any kind of lasting cooperative approach to Beijing and the wider problems of Asia, absent a major shift in Chinese behaviour or an American withdrawal from the region. And so it proved.

Fifty years on, however, the notion of enhanced cooperation between Australia, India and Japan is back, driven once more by the challenges posed by China. It surfaced in the ill-fated Quadrilateral Security Dialogue in 2007–08, which elicited fury from Beijing. It returned again in June 2015 when foreign affairs and security officials from the three countries—including DFAT Secretary Peter Varghese, Indian Foreign Secretary S. Jaishankar, and Japanese Vice-Minister Akitaka Saiki—held a trilateral meeting in New Delhi.

The agenda for that meeting was apparently dominated by maritime security, specifically freedom of navigation in the Indian Ocean and South China Sea, China’s island building activities, and the possibility of joint exercises. What was discussed at the next one, held in February 2016 in Tokyo, is less clear—in contrast to the earlier one, it passed almost unreported.

In 2017, it’s Australia’s turn to set the agenda and host the trilateral. Despite the times, this represents a significant opportunity. Key interests of Australia, India and Japan have converged, but—importantly—so too have perceptions of what’s at stake and what might be done. All three are concerned with three inter-linked challenges: managing China’s assertiveness across the region, dealing with the consequences of Donald Trump’s election and deepening regional economic integration. All have signed up—formally at least—to the idea that Beijing mustn’t be allowed to undermine the so-called “rules-based order”. And all are deeply concerned about Trump’s erratic pronouncements about the region and US allies, and committed—albeit in different ways—to pushing ahead with economic integration.

The third Australia–India–Japan trilateral meeting will present an opportunity to reinforce a coordinated message on maritime security, but also to widen the scope of cooperation to secure shared interests. The rules-based order should be upheld, but so should processes through which all get a say about how those rules are set. For that reason, the three need to collaborate to discourage a US–China “grand bargain” in the Indo–Pacific, which many in Beijing desire. They need to ensure the US remains engaged and to obviate the risk of missteps by an inexperienced administration. Moreover, they must work together to build the political, economic and military capacity of regional states to retain and exercise their autonomy, as well as defend their interests.

A water war in Asia?

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Tensions over water are rising in Asia—and not only because of conflicting maritime claims. While territorial disputes, such as in the South China Sea, attract the most attention—after all, they threaten the safety of sea lanes and freedom of navigation, which affects outside powers as well—the strategic ramifications of competition over transnationally shared freshwater resources are just as ominous.

Asia has less fresh water per capita than any other continent, and it is already facing a water crisis that, according to an MIT study, will continue to intensify, with severe water shortages expected by 2050. At a time of widespread geopolitical discord, competition over freshwater resources could emerge as a serious threat to long-term peace and stability in Asia.

Already, the battle is underway, with China as the main aggressor. Indeed, China’s territorial grab in the South China Sea has been accompanied by a quieter grab of resources in transnational river basins. Reengineering cross-border riparian flows is integral to China’s strategy to assert greater control and influence over Asia.

China is certainly in a strong position to carry out this strategy. The country enjoys unmatched riparian dominance, with 110 transnational rivers and lakes flowing into 18 downstream countries. China also has the world’s most dams, which it has never hesitated to use to curb cross-border flows. In fact, China’s dam builders are targeting most of the international rivers that flow out of Chinese territory.

Most of China’s internationally shared water resources are located on the Tibetan Plateau, which it annexed in the early 1950s. Unsurprisingly, the plateau is the new hub of Chinese dam building. Indeed, China’s 13th five-year plan, released this year, calls for a new wave of dam projects on the Plateau.

Moreover, China recently cut off the flow of a tributary of the Brahmaputra River, the lifeline of Bangladesh and northern India, to build a dam as part of a major hydroelectric project in Tibet. And the country is working to dam another Brahmaputra tributary, in order to create a series of artificial lakes.

China has also built six mega-dams on the Mekong River, which flows into Southeast Asia, where the downstream impact is already visible. Yet, instead of curbing its dam-building, China is hard at work building several more Mekong dams.

Likewise, water supplies in largely arid Central Asia are coming under further pressure as China appropriates a growing volume of water from the Illy River. Kazakhstan’s Lake Balkhash is now at risk of shrinking substantially, much like the Aral Sea—located on the border with Uzbekistan—which has virtually dried up in less than 40 years. China is also diverting water from the Irtysh, which supplies drinking water to Kazakhstan’s capital Astana and feeds Russia’s Ob River.

For Central Asia, the diminished transboundary flows are just one part of the problem. China’s energy, manufacturing, and agricultural activities in sprawling Xinjiang are having an even greater impact, as they contaminate the waters of the region’s transnational rivers with hazardous chemicals and fertilizers, just as China has done to the rivers in its Han heartland.

Of course, China is not the only country stoking conflict over water. As if to underscore that the festering territorial dispute in Kashmir is as much about water as it is about land, Pakistan has, for the second time this decade, initiated international arbitral tribunal proceedings against India under the terms of the 1960 Indus Waters Treaty. The paradox here is that downstream Pakistan has used that treaty—the world’s most generous water-sharing deal, reserving for Pakistan more than 80% of the waters of the six-river Indus system—to sustain its conflict with India.

Meanwhile, landlocked Laos—aiming to export hydropower, especially to China, the mainstay of its economy—has just notified its neighbors of its decision to move ahead with a third controversial project, the 912-megawatt Pak Beng dam. It previously brushed aside regional concerns about the alteration of natural-flow patterns to push ahead with the Xayaburi and Don Sahong dam projects. There is no reason to expect a different outcome this time.

The consequences of growing water competition in Asia will reverberate beyond the region. Already, some Asian states, concerned about their capacity to grow enough food, have leased large tracts of farmland in Sub-Saharan Africa, triggering a backlash in some areas. In 2009, when South Korea’s Daewoo Logistics Corporation negotiated a deal to lease as much as half of Madagascar’s arable land to produce cereals and palm oil for the South Korean market, the ensuing protests and military intervention toppled a democratically elected president.

The race to appropriate water resources in Asia is straining agriculture and fisheries, damaging ecosystems, and fostering dangerous distrust and discord across the region. It must be brought to an end. Asian countries need to clarify the region’s increasingly murky hydropolitics. The key will be effective dispute-resolution mechanisms and agreement on more transparent water-sharing arrangements.

Asia can build a harmonious, rules-based water management system. But it needs China to get on board. At least for now, that does not seem likely.

Jokowi and the Indo–Pacific: two years on

Image courtesy of Flickr user Nicolas Raymond.

At the two year mark of Indonesian President Joko ‘Jokowi’ Widodo’s time in office, commentators have been quick to criticise the inward turn Indonesia’s foreign policy has taken under his administration. This for a President elected on a platform of ‘expanding Indonesia’s regional engagement in the Indo–Pacific’ (PDF). As President, Jokowi has shown himself to be overwhelmingly focused on a domestic archipelagic development agenda, part of his stated vision of developing Indonesia into a global maritime fulcrum (GMF). However, the gulf between rhetoric and action isn’t just a quirk of Jokowi’s leadership but rather a symptom of Jakarta’s long-standing ‘minimalist’ conception of the Indo-Pacific.

The first Indonesian policymaker to consider the strategic benefits of an Indo-Pacific outlook was Marty Natalegwa, Foreign Minister under the ‘internationalist’ President SBY. Natalegwa penned a response to the new regional construct in 2013, then being promoted by some Indo–Pacific Rim democracies (the United States, Japan, India and Australia). His proposal was for an ‘Indo–Pacific-wide treaty of friendship and cooperation,’ based on the East Asia Summit’s Bali Principles. Rather than undertaking a considerable revamp of Indonesian foreign policy, the Foreign Minister simply sought to apply his existing doctrine, that of a regional ‘dynamic equilibrium’—‘where not one country is preponderant’—to the expanded region. Marty called for an Indo–Pacific (PDF):

‘…marked by an absence of preponderant power not through the rigidity, rivalry and tensions common to the pursuit of a balance of power model. Instead, through the promotion of a sense of common responsibility in the endeavor to maintain the region’s peace and stability.’

For Natalegawa, Indonesia’s interest in the Indo–Pacific was limited to the extent that an expanded region supports its preferred model of an Asia–Pacific order. In that vein, adding a rising India—long seen by Jakarta as a benign power—supports both goals of forging a dynamic equilibrium of inclusive regionalism and a diversity of powers.

On the face of it, the Jokowi administration with its core GMF vision appears to be embracing a holistic conception of the Indo–Pacific. Rizal Sukma, one of the GMF’s key architects, argued that the vision:

‘…emphasises Indonesia’s geographic, geostrategic and geoeconomic realities upon which its future will depend, and simultaneously influences the dynamics in the Indian and Pacific Oceans.’

The GMF envisions Indonesia as a fulcrum: the ‘point of support where the burden of the two oceans actually rest’. It’s objective is for Indonesia to access the full benefits of its geostrategic position.

Two years in, however, there’s little evidence that Indonesia is acting beyond its traditional Asia–Pacific scope. The Indian Ocean Rim Association (IORA), which Indonesia took chairmanship of in October 2015, appears to be the mechanism for a new grand strategy centred on the Indo–Pacific. Indeed, at the time of Indonesia becoming chair there was hope that its proposed IORA Concord might be the first step toward enhanced regionalism in the Indian Ocean.

However after a year of Indonesia’s chairmanship, concrete developments are hard to find. The IORA Concord being drafted for next year’s inaugural IORA Leaders’ Summit is likely to offer little more than ‘bland diplomatic statements that have little restraining force over signatories’ behaviours,’ according to Ristian Atriandi Supriyanto. Jakarta’s interests appear limited to a diplomatic victory for leading on the Concord. There’s no serious suggestion that Indonesia under Jokowi will try to take effective and active leadership over the diverse grouping, as it hasn’t with the more geopolitically pertinent ASEAN.

None of this is surprising, given that the Indian Ocean holds little strategic interest for Indonesia. A stronger position in the Indian Ocean would do nothing to support Jakarta in addressing the strategic challenges it faces. China has contested by force Indonesia’s sovereignty over the Exclusive Economic Zone, and even territorial waters, surrounding its northernmost territory, the Natuna Islands on three separate occasions this year. Beijing has also successfully fractured ASEAN unity—long the cornerstone of Indonesia’s foreign policy—under the leadership of Cambodia in 2012 and more recently Laos. Economically, Indonesia has limited interests to its west; its major trading partners remain overwhelmingly Asia–Pacific.

The relationship between Indian Ocean security and stability and Chinese assertiveness remains tenuous. For Indonesia, India is the only state outside the Asia–Pacific that has the potential to change the strategic balance in East Asia. As such, Indonesia has long welcomed greater Indian engagement in the Asia–Pacific; Jakarta was a key supporter of expanding the East Asia Summit to include India, Australia and New Zealand in 2005.

There’s little reason to think that under Jokowi, Indonesia’s Indian Ocean interests have developed beyond that perceived by Natalegawa and that the Indo–Pacific is perceived to be anything more than the Asia–Pacific + India.

Jokowi’s foreign policy interests are primarily about infrastructure development across the archipelago—key to his re-election bid in 2019—of which Beijing and Tokyo remain Indonesia’s main partners. Indeed Indonesia appears to be playing China and Japan off against each other as a way to maximize their investment potential. Continuing concerns about Chinese assertiveness keep the minimalist logic of the Indo–Pacific alive.

Re-hyphenating the Indo-Pacific

Image courtesy of Flickr user Sheri De Vries.

In the wonderfully-titled ‘From Hollywood to Bollywood’, Andrew Phillips questions the utility of the ‘Indo-Pacific’ concept. He thinks it’s less than the sum of its parts. Australian strategists, he argues, need to acknowledge the existence of two very different regional security orders, one Asia-Pacific and one South Asian. The first has ‘architecture’, provided by the US-centred ‘hub-and-spokes’ alliance system; the second doesn’t, as its main player, India, favours ‘non-alignment’ over alliances and multilateral institutions. Australians need to recognise those differences, Phillips asserts, if they’re to craft the right approach to what he calls the ‘Indo/Pacific’.

Phillips recognises that there’s now far more economic, diplomatic and security-focused interaction between East and South Asia than there was 25 years ago. These extend far beyond the oft-mentioned Sea Lines of Communication that run from the Arabian Gulf to Pacific. Trade and investment flows between the two regions are growing fast. China’s westward push promises even deeper economic integration, as its ‘One Belt, One Road’ initiative builds road and rail networks into Central Asia, and its maritime ‘Silk Road’ runs the South China Sea and Indian Ocean. East and South Asian states are also forging wide-ranging strategic partnerships that involve more than just promises to boost trade and investment, but also commitments to more frequent political discussions, upgraded defence ties, intelligence-sharing, technology transfer and co-development, regular strategic dialogues, and so on.

Yet Phillips contends that these intensifying diplomatic, economic and military ties across the Indo-Pacific haven’t changed the essential structures of its two regional security orders, arguing that new alliances and new or significantly strengthened security-focused multilateral institutions, especially in South Asia, haven’t emerged.

This argument doesn’t quite convince, I think, for three reasons.

First, the absence of new alliances in the Indo-Pacific isn’t just an Indo-Pacific phenomenon. No new formal pacts, committing the parties to mutual assistance in wartime, have been concluded anywhere in the world by major powers since the 1950s. What change we have seen in alliances has come within pre-existing arrangements. Quite why military alliances have become unfashionable is hard to explain, but it’s clear that it’s a global phenomenon: it can’t be attributed to a South Asian predilection for non-alignment.

Second, we’ve seen the proliferation across the Indo-Pacific of other instruments for managing regional security challenges, and it’s at least plausible that these are having some effect on the security order or orders. These include new multilateral initiatives that provide opportunities for government-to-government dialogue, like the ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF) or the East Asia Summit (EAS), as well as 1.5 track conversations like the Shangri-La Dialogue. They also include the bilateral ‘strategic partnership’ arrangements noted above, involving wide-ranging cooperation on defence and security. Together, these multilateral and bilateral instruments are binding East and South Asian states together, through the exchange of information, confidence-building, and policy coordination among the like-minded, and close observation of behaviour among the more suspicious.

Third, and most importantly, security orders depend on tacit understandings as well as the formal treaty commitments. In East Asia, for example, the US-centred order has had two elements since the early 1970s, not just one. Washington’s formal pledges to defend its allies are balanced by something else: the unspoken commitment not to intervene militarily in internal affairs of East Asian states. It’s that tacit understanding which permitted American disengagement from Vietnam and—because it gave sufficient reassurance to China—allowed Washington to come to terms with Beijing in 1972.

Contra Phillips, I think the Indo-Pacific concept is potentially useful as it highlights the novel and the emerging: on one hand, the growing and overlapping use of dialogue forums and strategic partnerships to manage security challenges in East and South Asia; on the other, a changing understanding of the roles of the major players in both regions.

It also allows us to appreciate the changing positions of key actors like India. True, India isn’t a US treaty ally, and it won’t become one any time soon, because it prizes ‘strategic autonomy’. But India is also now a player in East Asia in a way it simply wasn’t 25 years ago. It’s a member of ARF and EAS, is engaged in multiple track 1.5 and track 2 processes, and boasts strategic partnerships of various kinds with significant East Asian players, including Australia, China, Indonesia, Japan, Singapore, the US and Vietnam. It has declared interests in South East Asia—not least in freedom of navigation in the South China Sea—and has signalled the intent to try to uphold them.

Moreover, the 2005 US–India Nuclear Deal and Defence Cooperation Agreement have established far higher levels of strategic trust than have ever existed between those two powers. Alongside burgeoning economic and people-to-people ties, the two states have built a robust (though far from perfect) strategic partnership from the ground up, making India a major consumer of US defence technology and committing India to the ‘ruled-based’ order in a Joint Strategic Vision document (2015).

What’s evolving in the Indo-Pacific, in other words, isn’t a neatly structured, ‘architectural’ security order, but a messy, changeable order that combines formal alliances, mostly ASEAN-centric multilateral institutions, minilateral initiatives and bilateral strategic partnerships, and a mix of declared commitments and tacit agreements around major power behaviour. The concept is useful, even if the policy challenges it throws up are going to be hard to manage.

French–Indian relations take off again

France and India have further deepened their military and economic relationship through India’s purchase of 36 French “Rafale” fighter jets at a cost of almost €8 billion. This order is France’s largest aeronautic contract ever signed overseas, and constitutes a victory for France’s diplomacy in India and for French company Dassault Aviation. The contract should also reinforce the strategic partnership between the two countries.

French Defence Minister Jean-Yves Le Drian went to New Delhi on 23 September to sign the contract. Clearly, tensions pertaining to DCNS’ leaks about India’s submarines haven’t weakened Indian stakeholders’ trust of French armament.

Rafales are usually 100% made in France. They are representative of France’s pride in its innovative industrial savoir-faire because they gather technology from its industrial leaders, such as Thales, Safran and obviously Dassault. The Indian government has accepted that its Rafales will be fully assembled in France because Dassault wants to protect its technology. However, the French aeronautic company has agreed to transfer the production of some parts of the motors and cabins to India, probably a political necessity as New Delhi is currently promoting ‘Make in India’ policies.

The 36 Rafales should enable the development of some technological partnerships between France and India. Dassault Aviation, which agreed to invest €4 billion in India, has constituted a local joint-company with Indian Reliance ADA. This cooperation will include technological transfers, with Dassault investing in the research and development programs of the Indian Ministry of Defence, and industrial partnerships which could lead to the creation of 1,500 jobs in India. Moreover, the Rafale package will see the aviation company also provide armament and training programs for pilots and maintenance workers.

Strategically, the French–Indian fighter jets contract goes along with the deepening of New Delhi’s and Paris’ dialogue for the security of the Indian Ocean.

As expressed in its last Defence White Paper in 2013, France intends to reinforce its presence in the Indian Ocean, which hosts several French overseas territories, especially Reunion Island and Mayotte. The economic stakes are high for France because most of its trade with Asia follows maritime routes in the Indian Ocean.

India is currently modernising its Navy and Air Forces in order to strengthen its regional presence. Prime Minister Modi has also asserted this strategic ambition by deepening its dialogue with his neighbours. For instance, India has reinforced its military and civilian assistance to Sri Lanka, the Seychelles and Mauritius, three states where China tries to invest heavily. Having watched China’s aggressiveness in the South China Sea dispute, New Delhi is determined to assert its influence and power over the Indian Ocean.

China seems to consider the Rafales as a threatening symbol of India’s ambitions. In fact, the Rafales, which have the ability to carry nuclear weapons, will be positioned close to India’s borders with China and Pakistan. India’s Defence Minister even explained that the first Rafales could be delivered sooner than planned in case of renewed tensions with Pakistan.

During his visit to New Delhi on 23 September, French Defence Minister Jean-Yves Le Drian explained that Paris understood this contract as a tool in order to strengthen its significant strategic partnership with India. France was the first country to elaborate such a partnership with New Delhi in 1998. French policy-makers share India’s fear regarding China military’s assertiveness. Le Drian explained that France perceives India as one of its main partners in maintaining the stability of the region. Selling Rafales to New Delhi enables France to empower its partner’s defence capabilities, as was previously the case with French exports to India of Scorpene submarines and Mirage 2000 fighter jets.

Paris doesn’t only rely on its partnership with India. It also wishes to increase its collaboration with Australia on these regional issues. French diplomats and policy-makers have regular dialogues with their Australian counterparts to help align their strategies in order to secure their interests in the Indian Ocean.

Economically, the French media also insist that the Rafale contract will enable France to reverse its trade deficit with India. In 2015, France imported €5.4 billion of Indian goods and services but its exports to New Delhi only reached €3.2 billion. This defence contract will reverse the trend and constitutes a positive outcome for the French economy, which relies on exports to support its fragile growth. Moreover, France and India keep increasing their economic links. India was France’s 15th trade partner in 2015, up significantly from 26th in 2014. The Rafale contract reinforces this dynamic.

The recent DCNS data leaks and the potential damage they could have impacted on the French–Indian relationship seem to belong to the past. After years of negotiations, India and France have, at last, agreed on a Rafale contract, corresponding to both countries’ strategy to secure their interests in the Indian Ocean.

The Indo-Pacific and the nature of conjoinment

Image courtesy of the Department of Defence.

Let’s cut to the chase. Few strategic assessments have ever recommended the deleting of a hyphen in favour of a dash as a principal policy recommendation. So Andrew Phillips’ recent ASPI Strategy paper, From Hollywood to Bollywood?, is distinctive on those grounds alone. But much more importantly, it’s a nicely-weighted exploration of the concept of the Indo-Pacific in Australian strategic thinking. Underlying Andrew’s claim—that we’d be better off emphasising Indo/Pacific differentiation rather than Indo-Pacific aggregation—is an argument about the important strategic differences between the Indian and Pacific oceans, and the practical difficulties of conjoinment in an increasingly interconnected world.

So his paper merits a close reading. The rise of the Indo-Pacific concept parallels the rise of the Asian great powers, their increasing interconnectedness, and their growing capabilities to play in each other’s frontyards. But does it tell us more than that? What does it mean when we merrily pin together different strategic orders—transforming Europe and Asia into Eurasia, and the Indian and Pacific Oceans into the Indo-Pacific? The terminology typically takes for granted something that otherwise needs to be proven, like the rise of an Indo-Pacific ‘community’ or the growing importance of an Indo-Pacific strategic order.

Andrew’s correct that evidence of such strategic linkages remains comparatively thin. That’s partly seen in the different arguments advanced for closer regional aggregation. Advocates typically focus upon different perceived benefits, and Andrew sketches out at least three distinct groups:

  • ‘minimalists’, who see India as a useful balancer of rising Chinese power and influence
  • ‘maximalists’, who see the need to draw both India and Indonesia into a regional concert of powers, and
  • ‘functionalists’, who focus on the critical maritime trade and energy flows linking the two regions.

Australia’s interest in the Indian Ocean has risen sharply in recent years, essentially because of four drivers: India’s rise, the increasing importance of Southeast Asia, a greater interest in energy flows, and the growing maritime presence of new external players—like China—in that ocean. But the Indo-Pacific concept still joins at the hip two separate and distinct regions. To the west lies an ocean dominated by a single great power (India), with a diverse range of littoral states that have little in common save seawater. To the east is an ocean connecting several great powers (US, China, Russia and Japan), with high levels of strategic and economic interconnectedness, and a regional institution (APEC) that reaches out even to the Pacific littoral states of South America.

The Pacific’s the site of several critical bilateral relationships: US–China, US–Japan, China–Japan. But what are the key bilaterals of the Indian Ocean? The obvious ones are the India–US and India–China relationships, but those involve the largest Indian Ocean power reaching out beyond the ocean. Those differences are important: for one thing, they imply that the Pacific is a strategic ‘shaper’ of events in a way that the Indian Ocean isn’t. And that implication plays out in history: during both World War 2 and the Cold War, the Pacific loomed as a more important theatre than the Indian Ocean. Today, there are 5 US alliances in East Asia, and none in the Indian Ocean—the ‘cradle of the non-aligned movement’, to use Andrew’s term.

It’s hard to imagine that historical cradle nurturing a state which will prove a decisive balancer in the 21st century. But it’s almost as hard to imagine a concert of great powers emerging from the two regions to become the principal security mechanism for the Asian strategic environment over the same timeframe. Asian great powers have traditionally been more introverted than extroverted, and their history of security cooperation is weak. Frankly, there’s less to multilateral security cooperation in Asia than meets the eye.

Australia, seeing itself as a two-ocean country, feels a degree of affinity for the Indo-Pacific concept. But it’d be difficult to argue that even we see both oceans as strategic equivalents. And the emphasis accorded the concept in both the 2013 and 2016 Defence White Papers owes at least something to the fact that the state of Western Australia has been unusually well represented in ministerial security portfolios in Australia in recent years (Stephen Smith, David Johnston and Julie Bishop). Indeed, from 3 December 2007 until today, MPs or Senators from Western Australia have been either Australia’s defence minister or its foreign minister—or both.

So what does that mean for Australian policy? Andrew’s strategy of regional differentiation—treating the Asia-Pacific and the Indian Ocean as distinct entities—makes good sense. But I have my doubts about his proposal for an Indo-Pacific Security Dialogue. That sounds suspiciously like an attempt to talk an Indo-Pacific strategic order into existence—and that’d be a wearying mission to assign to even the most dedicated diplomat.