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Tag Archive for: Pacific Islands

How China is winning the information war in the Pacific

As China seeks greater influence in the South Pacific, its manipulation of local news outlets is having a serious impact on media independence.

Most Pacific media organisations are struggling financially, many journalists have lost their jobs and China is offering a way for them to survive—at the cost of media freedom.

It’s not just the ‘no strings attached’ financial aid and ‘look and learn’ tours of China for journalists; it’s about sharing an autocratic media model.

Prominent journalists and media executives say Pacific leaders are copying Chinese media tactics and stopping them from doing their jobs.

China is one of the worst countries in the world for media freedom. It ranks 177 on the Reporters Without Borders World Press Freedom Index. Now it’s trying to influence media around the world, especially in countries which have signed up to its Belt and Road Initiative. That includes 10 Pacific island nations. Four remain with Taiwan.

China has spent an estimated US$6.6 billion over 13 years strengthening its global media presence. It took over Radio Australia’s shortwave transmitter frequencies in the Pacific when the ABC shut down its shortwave service in 2017.

China’s national television service is about to start broadcasting by satellite into Vanuatu.

In a 2020 report, the International Federation of Journalists warned that foreign journalists were wooed by exchange programs, opportunities to study in China, tours and financial aid for their media outlets. Beijing also provides free content in foreign newspapers and ambassadors write opinion pieces for local media.

The federation’s report found that journalists frequently think their media is strong enough to withstand this influence, but a global survey suggests that’s not the reality and China is reshaping the media round the world.

These attempts at ‘sharp power’ go beyond simply telling China’s story, according to Sarah Cook, research director for China, Hong Kong and Taiwan at Freedom House. Their sharper edge often undermines democratic norms, erodes national sovereignty, weakens the financial sustainability of independent media, and violates local laws.

Journalists say this is an ideological and political struggle, with China determined to combat what it sees as decades of unchallenged Western media imperialism.

There’s mounting evidence from the Pacific of the impact of Beijing’s worldwide campaign, particularly in Solomon Islands and Vanuatu.

The situation for journalists in Solomon Islands has rapidly changed since the country swapped diplomatic allegiance from Taipei to Beijing in 2019. Media freedom has deteriorated and journalists say leaders are now taking their cues from China.

Media outlets are vulnerable to offers of financial help. Many journalists have lost jobs and others haven’t been paid for months. It’s estimated there are just 16 full-time journalists left in Honiara.

There’s been little advertising since the November 2021 riots, a situation exacerbated by the Covid pandemic. The only income for one privately owned media outlet is from the small street sales of its newspapers.

Earlier this month, the Solomon Islands government held its first news conference for 2022 after months of pressure to talk to journalists. The government denied there were restrictions on media freedom.

As the media struggles to survive, China’s ambassador is offering support, such as more trips to China (after the pandemic) and donations including two vehicles to the Solomon Star and maintenance of the newspaper’s printing presses. In the experience of other media, these offers are often followed with pressure to adhere to editorial positions congruent with those of the Chinese embassy.

While some journalists are resisting the pressure and holding a strong line, others are being targeted by China with rewards for ‘friends’.

Chinese embassies throughout the South Pacific are active on social media. In Solomon Islands, the embassy’s Facebook site includes posts about its aid assistance for Covid-19, joint press releases with the Solomons government and stories from official Chinese news outlets.

There are numerous examples of the growing impact on media freedom.

A freelance journalist has relocated to Australia after her investigations into the relationship between Solomons Prime Minister Manasseh Sogavare and a Chinese businessman resulted in harassment from police. She said police told her an order for her arrest came directly from the prime minister.

She was advised by Australia’s high commissioner to move to Australia for her safety.

Veteran journalist Dorothy Wickham was among a group of Solomon Islands journalists who accepted an invitation for a ‘look and learn’ tour of China soon after the Sogavare government swapped allegiance to China in 2019.

She said the trip left her concerned about how Solomon Islands would deal with its new diplomatic partner.

‘By the time our tour concluded in Shanghai, I was personally convinced that our political leaders are not ready or able to deal effectively with China. Solomon Islands’ regulatory and accountability mechanisms are too weak. We have already shown some spirit with our attorney general rejecting a hasty deal to lease the island of Tulagi, the capital of one of our provinces, to a Chinese company, but I fear how fragile and weak my country is against any large developed nation let alone China.’ she wrote in an article for The Guardian.

One senior media executive that said if his own government, Australia, and New Zealand didn’t assist, he would look to China. ‘There is too much talk about the role of media in democracy,’ he said. He thought the Chinese ambassador understood that his organisation had its own editorial policy. Soon after that, though, he was asked to publish a press release word for word.

Another media executive said he only had to ring the Chinese embassy and help arrived. He said China was rapidly moving into his country’s media space with no expense spared.

High-profile Vanuatu journalist Dan McGarry says he has no doubt that some Pacific governments are following China’s lead and adopting its contempt for critical speech and dissent.

In 2019, McGarry left Vanuatu to attend a forum in Australia, but his visa was revoked and he was banned from re-entering Vanuatu. He told the ABC’s Media Watch program at the time that he had no doubt it was because of a story he wrote about the secret deportation of six Chinese from Vanuatu.

The six were arrested and detained without charge on the premises of a Chinese company with numerous large government contracts before being escorted out of Vanuatu by Chinese and Vanuatu police. McGarry said he was summoned by the prime minister, who told him he was disappointed with his negative reporting.

McGarry said he had no evidence that China tried to influence the Vanuatu government over his residence, but he’d seen a tendency in Pacific leaders to emulate behaviour they saw elsewhere.

Now back in Vanuatu, he said the decision to refuse his work permit was still under judicial review and he’s seeking financial compensation.

In 2018, Papua New Guinea journalist Scott Waide was suspended by EMTV under pressure from Prime Minister Peter O’Neill for a story he wrote about a diplomatic Chinese tantrum and a scandal over the purchase of Maserati cars for the APEC meeting in Port Moresby.

Waide told the ABC that Pacific governments were taking lessons from China in dealing with their critics using media clampdowns and intimidation. That didn’t necessarily involve direct instructions from Beijing, ‘but people watch, people learn’.

A dispute over media freedom has escalated with the sacking of the head of news and 24 journalists at EMTV in PNG. They were initially suspended but later terminated for supporting their editor over interference from a government minister about a story involving an Australian man charged with drug trafficking. On 9 March, the EMTV news manager was sacked for insubordination. The network has since hired a new team of recent graduates with little experience—just months before the scheduled elections in June.

These examples give a sharper edge to concerns about China’s growing influence in the South Pacific and  the lack of an Australian media voice there. The ABC’s presence has been described as a whisper. There’s only one Australian journalist based in the region, the ABC’s Natalie Whiting in PNG. Meanwhile, Xinhua has a correspondent based in Fiji and China has recently been recruiting Pacific journalists for its global TV network.

The situation worries Australia’s national broadcaster. ABC managing director David Anderson told a Senate hearing in February 2022 of growing Chinese influence in the Pacific. ‘The single biggest piece of information that comes back to us from the public broadcasters is concern over the pressure the Chinese government put on them to carry content,’ he said.

In November 2019, the Melanesian Media Freedom Forum at Griffith University expressed concern about growing threats to media freedom. It called on Pacific governments to fund public broadcasters properly to ensure they have sufficient equipment and staff to enable their services to reach all citizens and to adequately play their watchdog role.

Australian journalist, media development consultant and trainer Jemima Garrett says media executives are at risk of being captured by China.

She has no doubt that China’s growing influence is a major story, but with so few Australian journalists based in the region, even significant developments in the China story are going unreported.

Author’s note: Some of the Pacific journalists in this story have asked not to be named or identified because of the sensitivity of the issue.

Australia at the South Pacific kava bowl

Over 200 years, Australia went out into the South Pacific as bible-bashers and blackbirders, as carpetbaggers, captains and colonisers.

We sailed and traded and built and searched for both gold and souls. Always, we sought security. And these days we seek family as well.

The islands have been so important to Australia for so long, it’s amazing how much Australia forgets about its South Pacific roles and ambitions.

When musing two decades ago about missionaries, miners and mariners, I lamented that Australia’s work in the South Pacific is beset by policy taboos, popular amnesia and political failure.

Perhaps forgetting is what settler societies must do, marching forward and discarding much.

The amnesia means the South Pacific remembers our history in the islands better than we do. We’re usually welcome round the ceremonial kava bowl (or even the informal kava bucket) when we follow the kava customs—show up, sit down, and be ready to shut up and listen.

The perils of kava got me when I flew back to Fiji in 1987 to join the ABC team reporting on the second military coup of the year.

I got a car at Nadi and drove along the Coral Coast to Suva, stopping at several villages along the way to chat about the coup-coup times.

Reaching Suva that afternoon, I rang Sydney to see if I could get a slot on the ABC’s PM program.

‘It’s Gwayam Bobell here. I’be just got to Suba. I dwibben acwoss and stobbed a cubble of tibes to talk to the peeble.’

‘Ah, Graeme, good to hear from you. You haven’t, by any chance, had a few drinks of kava at those villages?’

‘Oh, a bubble of bowls!’  I didn’t get on air that night and for a while I answered to ‘Bubbles’.

My kava lesson was how a stray Australian had been welcomed with typical hospitality; it was accepted that an Australia would wander in, as many had before. That Oz role in the islands is the sweeping story of historian Ian Hoskins’s new book, Australia and the Pacific: a history.

Hoskins titles the book’s introduction ‘Our repressed Oceanic memories’ and tells a big story: ‘The Pacific Ocean has washed, scoured and thumped Australia’s east coast for more than five million years … Australia’s deep past and its modern history are intrinsically connected to the Pacific.’

We still struggle with the meaning of that connection and the strange but accurate line in the national anthem: ‘Our land is girt by sea.’

Hoskins, too, ponders the ‘national amnesia’ and answers it with nearly 500 pages of a ‘thematic survey’ that starts with the ‘shifting of continents and ends with contemporary climate controversies’.

This is sprawling history that gallops, seeing Australia and the islands through many shared frames. While the great interior of our continent dominates Oz imagination, Hoskins notes, we are drawn equally to our beaches and the sea.

The convicts arrived in what Hoskins calls a ‘Pacific colony’. And when the Sydney colony nearly starved in its early years, the second settlement at Norfolk Island offered luxurious soil. A later use of Norfolk was as the prison for offenders deemed too bad for New South Wales.

Within two decades of its founding, Hoskins writes, Sydney had a ‘remarkable oceanic reach’—the term ‘Pacific-minded barely conveys the complexity of the relationships’.

One of the 19th century chapters—‘Saving souls and taking slaves’—has the missionaries going out to make the islands Christian while the traders ship back Kanaks to create Queensland’s sugar fields.

The politics of the creation of ‘White Australia’ mingles with the stories of the merchants and patrol officers. The anthropologists and the artists mattered, as the European vision of ‘the other’ grappled with ideas of nobility and ignobility, admiration and fear.

A major story is how Australia got and governed Papua and New Guinea. One of my jests is that only two unusual countries in the world have rugby league as their national sport: Queensland and Papua New Guinea.

Hoskins offers a wonderful account of how Hubert Murray, governor of Papua from 1908 to 1940, saw rugby as an alternative to tribal warfare, headhunting and ‘the Papuan’s craving for bloodshed’.

With ‘a characteristic drollness which barely hid the magnitude of his challenge,’ Hoskins writes, Murray championed the view that football must substitute for ‘the old traditions of blazing villages and bleeding heads’.

Elite Oz rugby league these days is often, ‘My Polynesians play your Polynesians.’ Not much recruiting gets done in PNG, although Hoskins judges that Murray’s vision arrived and ‘football did become something of a replacement for tribal fighting’.

Hoskins’s account of where we are now is not dry history, but passionate and personal, as people keep moving across the Pacific. The ethnic and political tensions of Fiji, for instance, meant that by 2000 about 10% of Fiji’s Indians had migrated to Australia.

The ‘Pacific solution’, now 20 years old, outsourced boat people to the Pacific. The slogan ‘stop the boats’ shifts votes. As Hoskins observes:

The Pacific Solution has confronted contemporary Australia with difficult questions about its sense of self, its regional responsibilities and interests. The politicisation of the dilemma keeps alive the spectre of long-held racial anxieties about the vulnerability of an island continent and the exceptionalism of its inhabitants. Border security wins elections.

‘For Pacific island countries, climate change is an existential threat,’ ASPI’s Climate and Security Policy Centre observes. Hoskins makes that existential threat his final chapter, noting that the islands ‘regard Australia’s politicised arguments about climate change and coal mining with anxiety and bewilderment’.

Climate change is a great unfolding threat for the Pacific family. And Hoskins’s conclusion sees that challenge as part of our shared history:

Australia has changed its region but the Pacific has changed Australia. It provided the fertiliser needed to boost crop production on ancient soils. Pacific Islanders helped establish the continent’s sugar industry. The Pacific and its people helped to define White Australia. Conversely, when white Australians finally accepted that excluding their ‘coloured’ neighbours was racist and counterproductive, it changed Australia … The struggle of a Torres Strait man called Eddie Mabo reset our understanding of the nation’s foundation. The exiled detention of asylum seekers on Pacific islands has led to an agonised and unresolved discussion about Australia’s collective morality.

What’s behind Kiribati’s move to open marine reserve to fishing?

The Pacific Islands Forum states have made a bold claim to be the authentic custodians of the Pacific Ocean’s marine resources and health through the forum’s ‘Blue Pacific’ strategy.

In essence, the PIF members have attempted to parlay their vast collective exclusive economic zones into diplomatic and political assets to advance their climate-change and marine-resources agendas more robustly on the global stage.

The 30-year strategy sets out an extensive range of objectives that the Pacific states want to achieve and challenges they need to meet to succeed.

The strategy is essentially aspirational. The forum’s members don’t have the capacity alone to defend the breadth of the strategy’s reach, and much depends on international sympathy for the legitimacy of their ‘Blue Pacific’ claims.

This support has been forthcoming from important regional supporters. Australia and New Zealand support the strategy as members of the PIF, and the US has offered symbolic acknowledgement through its BLUE Pacific Act.

In order to maintain the international support on which the strategy depends, PIF states must meet at least two essential conditions.

One is that they individually act in conformity with the strategy’s spirit and aims, and the other is that they sustain their collective support for the strategy.

The first condition now appears to be at risk, according to a report by New Zealand–based 1News which claimed that the Kiribati government will deregister the Phoenix Islands Protected Area (PIPA).

In 2007, President Anote Tong moved to legislatively protect the special environmental values of the Phoenix Islands and requested that PIPA be listed as a World Heritage site. This archipelago comprises more than 400,000 square kilometres of pristine coral atolls and ocean.

World Heritage registration has been supported financially by the Phoenix Islands Protected Area Trust Fund, whose contributing partners include Conservation International and the New England Aquarium.

The Kiribati government has confirmed its intention to revoke the national legislation and deregister the PIPA. However, it argues that PIPA wasn’t contributing to the national income to the extent predicted.

The leaked cabinet papers cited by 1News estimated that $200 million in annual licensing fees would be available if the enormous marine reserve were opened to commercial fishing.

Regional fisheries sources have pointed out that this figure is seriously inflated since the regional regulatory mechanism, the Vessel Day Scheme, is fixed for Kiribati and so revenues wouldn’t necessarily be increased by opening PIPA to fishing.

The instigator for the government’s decision is reportedly China, which is thought to have two goals in mind—one overt and the second less transparent.

China’s primary aim is to win preferred access to the extensive tuna resources that have been cosseted for years by PIPA’s protective boundaries.

Second, PIPA is close to American waters. China is said to want to develop an airstrip on Kanton Island that was built by the US during World War II up to an international standard.

The airfield is 1,600 nautical miles (2,963 kilometres) southwest of Hawaii and therefore seen as uncomfortably close to US military interests in the Pacific.

If this is a genuine objective, it could be an issue for both Kiribati and China. Washington retains some continuing rights to the airfield.

Article 3 of the 1979 Treaty of Friendship and Territorial Sovereignty between the Republic of Kiribati and the United States asserts that US-built facilities such as the Kanton airfield ‘shall not be made available to third parties for military purposes except with the agreement of the Government of the United States’.

The Kiribati government has labelled the role of China in this matter as ‘neo-colonialist’ in a Facebook press release and attacked the media for making the matter public.

Whether the national legislation will be changed and the World Heritage status of PIPA revoked is still being contested within Kiribati. The minister for the environment, Ruateki Tekaiara, is reportedly opposed to the change.

The opposition and former president Tong are concerned that the move would seriously erode the international community’s trust in Kiribati’s environmental commitments.

And that could influence international perceptions as to the moral claim to custodianship more generally for protecting the health and resources of the Pacific Ocean under the ‘Blue Pacific’ agenda.

The government’s move certainly has been ill-timed, coming as it did into the international spotlight in the final days of the COP26 climate conference. Not a good look by one of the poster states threatened by sea-level rise.

As one of the five Micronesian states that are in the process of withdrawing from the PIF, Kiribati is heavily involved in the second critical factor in the prospects for the strategy.

Even if the dissolution of the PIF doesn’t eventuate, there will be some residual damage to the ‘Blue Pacific’ brand.

Extra-regional willingness to respect the PIF states’ genuine commitment to long-term fundamental objectives is likely to look a little less compelling in the wake of the move against PIPA.

On the other hand, if the PIF fragments into two regional organisations with diminished memberships, will there be any appetite for funding two separate bodies with distinct and separate ‘regional’ agendas such as the ‘Blue Pacific’?

ANZUS and agency in regional security

A new ASPI special report, Sliding-door moments: ANZUS and the Blue Pacific, released today, canvasses important lessons from the 70-year history of ANZUS in the Pacific Island region* and how those lessons bear on Australia’s Pacific step-up, New Zealand’s Pacific reset and the United States’ Pacific pledge.

While most of the moments examined in the report centred on decisions that seemed inconsequential at the time, the same can’t be said of the current pivotal juncture in regional security. The risks of the current period of strategic flux are recognised as both high and escalating.

Our Pacific neighbours appreciate keenly that their security is tied up with the region’s evolving and complex geopolitical environment. Equally, they have made it clear that they have no wish to be a catspaw in any of the developing strategic responses.

They fear a loss of agency over their own security priorities as broader and less accessible forums such as the Quadrilateral Security Dialogue and AUKUS are coming to dominate a more intense strategic agenda.

The calculus of what counts as ‘agency’ can be very convoluted, especially when the asymmetries of power are so marked for these Pacific nations in the fast-moving strategic recalibrations occurring now. Even the well resourced can struggle.

For example, ASPI’s Peter Jennings, in his assessment of the lessons to be taken from the tortured origins of AUKUS, argued that Australia had lost some of its security agency through a chronic underinvestment in defence.

Burden-sharing within ANZUS has been contentious and difficult to calculate, as Joanne Wallis and Anna Powles note. They argue that Australia and New Zealand, through the non-military contributions they make in the region, including the influence of their soft-power assets, tip the scales towards more a more equitable security balance than the US recognises.

The degree to which the Pacific nations can demand control of their own security environment depends on how well they can decouple the physical defence priorities of extra-regional states from their human-security-centric priorities as given in the Boe Declaration.

As the report notes, shared security interests of the colonial powers, a relatively benign transition to independence and the absence of perceived external threats left these states with very limited capacity to assert independent defence interests.

Only two of the region’s 13 states with populations under 3 million—Fiji and Tonga—have a formal defence force. None of the states have any mutual security agreements or defence alliances.

These nations’ capacity for independent defence agency contrasts markedly with the 10 Caribbean small island states with populations under 3 million. Six currently have military establishments, and two of those—Antigua and Barbuda and Saint Kitts and Nevis—have smaller populations than Tonga.

Significantly, Dominica, the second smallest of the regional states, had its own defence force until 1981 but was able to disband it with the creation of the Eastern Caribbean’s Regional Security System. The three members with defence forces work cooperatively with the four without a military force to provide mutual assistance in meeting threats to their national security.

Having this defence establishment is an important factor for all these small island states in promoting their security agenda with the larger powers, especially through the Committee on Hemispheric Security of the Organization of American States.

The comparison is scarcely fair given the higher levels of physical threat and close proximity of the small Caribbean states that drive their need for defence capacity and physical security cooperation. Nor is it an argument that the Pacific states should militarise in order have some agency with regard to their physical security needs in the current period of heightened international rivalry.

Nevertheless, there are burden-sharing obligations that fall on the Pacific states to contribute to the region’s physical security. During the period of the ‘war on terror’, the principal obligation was not to permit their sovereignty to be misused to facilitate or promote terrorist bodies through passport sales, flags of convenience or money laundering.

From an ANZUS perceptive, the key contribution has been to maintain a commitment to an effective security community. This means that members of the community share and protect a common defence perspective so that no member allows its territory to become a threat to other members—and this includes Australia and New Zealand in their regional roles.

Former Pacific Islands Forum secretary general Meg Taylor stressed the potential consequences of disunity, observing that ‘if we divide into our sub-regions and then get played off by geo-strategic interests, our own interests as a collective will be undermined’.

As the report notes, there’s an opportunity of relevance here for ANZUS.

The alliance is the only formal security arrangement that could serve to protect and project the concerns of these Pacific states in the evolving defence super-arena that is framing Indo-Pacific security. While they would resist any suggestion that outside agencies should protect their national and regional interests, they have appreciated, and called for, the support of international champions to meet core security challenges such as climate change.

ANZUS has been perceived as such a supporter in the past; indeed, during the Cold War, some of these nations even tentatively inquired as to some form of association with ANZUS. In present circumstances, any overt or formal connection would overheat the already somewhat febrile concerns regarding the designs extra-regional powers might have on them as defence assets.

However, as the report argues, a shared consensus on regional defence will have to overcome two critical challenges. ANZUS will have to recover, as an alliance, an internal functionality that it has lacked for several decades. AUKUS poses a serious question mark.

On their side, the states have to demonstrate that defending their commitment to a collective stewardship of the ‘Blue Pacific’ and securing the aims of the Boe Declaration are more compelling than a dispute over internal regional administrative arrangements.

* Defined in the report to comprise the independent states of Fiji, Kiribati, Marshall Islands, Micronesia, Nauru, Palau, Papua New Guinea, Samoa, Solomon Islands, Tonga, Tuvalu and Vanuatu and the dependent territories of American Samoa, the Cook Islands, French Polynesia, Guam, New Caledonia, Niue, the Northern Mariana Islands, the Pitcairn Islands, Tokelau, and Wallis and Futuna.

ASPI’s decades: Saving Solomon Islands from crocodiles

ASPI celebrates its 20th anniversary this year. This series looks at ASPI’s work since its creation in August 2001.

ASPI’s first big policy impact was arguing that Australia must intervene to save Solomon Islands. The institute’s 2003 description of Solomon Islands as ‘a failing state’ was one element in the Howard government’s policy somersault.

The key factor in the U-turn was a cry for help from Solomon Islands—the institute’s role was a timely report on the new direction needed.

The plea from Honiara came as Elsina Wainwright’s Our failing neighbour set out how Australia should step in to stabilise Solomon Islands after five years of turmoil. The conflict, she wrote, had ‘paralysed the country’s capital, stifled its economy, disrupted government, discouraged aid donors, and inflicted suffering and hardship on its people. It has virtually ceased to function as an effective national entity.’

Former prime minister John Howard paid tribute to the impact of Wainwright’s report:

I especially recall in its early years that ASPI took a different position on the possibility of intervening in the Solomon Islands. In time the government decided on a course of action which chimed with that put forward by ASPI. It was a significant change in policy direction. Events demonstrated the wisdom of that change.

Much Canberra policy orthodoxy was swept aside as Australia galvanised to create what became the Regional Assistance Mission to Solomon Islands (RAMSI).

Previous Australian policy had been judiciously proper in respecting the sovereignty of South Pacific states. This hands-off stance was explained to me in 2002 by the secretary of the Foreign Affairs Department, Ashton Calvert: Canberra’s aim in the South Pacific was to ‘cleverly manage trouble’.

A gap had opened between defence guidance about Australia’s determination to fight for the island arc and what Canberra would do for the stability of the troubled nations of the arc. Well into the 1990s, Australia promised to do its bit so island states could ‘look after their own strategic interests’; in a crisis, the focus of the Australian military would be ‘evacuation of Australian citizens’.

At the start of 2003, Australia’s policy in the South Pacific was to manage problems without getting too close to what was going wrong. The foreign policy white paper, released in February, noted that Australia had major interests in the stability and development of the South Pacific. But under the heading ‘What Australia can and cannot do to help’, the statement expressed the non-colonial mantra:

When problems are so tightly bound to complex cultural traditions and ethnic loyalties, only local communities can find workable solutions. Australia stands ready to help those South Pacific countries willing to help themselves by tackling the problems of poor governance and economic underperformance.

Two months after the white paper, on 22 April, the prime minister of Solomon Islands, Allan Kemakeza, faxed a desperate letter to Australia’s prime minister pleading for help. The chaos in Honiara had become so bad that cabinet couldn’t convene for fear of being held ransom by armed gangs. The new (British) police commissioner in Solomon Islands couldn’t arrest one of his own senior officers who had walked into the Treasury and demanded money.

The response to that appeal from Honiara was the start of the policy revolution.

The Pacific chapter in the white paper was to have set the policy course for the rest of decade. By July, those prescriptions had been shredded as Australian police and troops led the regional intervention into Solomon Islands—a remarkable example of how declared policy and set strategy can be remade by events and changed political judgements.

Solomon Islands was in dire need and the Pacific Islands Forum supported action. Australia would lead with the essential money and muscle. Yet, in launching the intervention—and in its eventual resilience and endurance—a key to success was in the name: it was a regional assistance mission.

The forum offered legitimacy as well as support. The Solomons turned for help not just to the region’s big power but to all its neighbours. In all the twists of Solomon Islands’ politics in coming years, that regional dimension was RAMSI’s anchor as well as badge.

ASPI offered fresh thoughts to a government in need of better answers, as Howard’s cabinet discarded the advice of officials in deciding to intervene. Wainwright reflected that her report provided a ready-made blueprint:

We proposed the operation should be police, rather than military led: the security challenges facing Solomon Islands were of a kind best tackled by police, and the optics of a police-led operation would be more benign. Such an intervention would require Solomon Islands’ consent and should be multinational, with regional endorsement and participation. It should have two phases: the first would address the law and order crisis, and the second would be a comprehensive, long-term capacity building program to tackle governance and economic challenges which were fuelling the crisis.

Australia stopped worrying about an exit strategy from its own region and made a commitment to the Solomons.

A year later, in June 2004, Howard used a speech to ASPI to describe the terms of his government’s somersault, and a confident ‘new phase’ in Australia’s strategic role:

There was a time not so long ago when sensitivities about alleged ‘neo-colonialism’ perhaps caused Australia to err on the side of passivity in our approach. Those days are behind us as we work constructively with others to address the challenges faced by our immediate neighbourhood … Australia has a particular responsibility to help those countries struggling to secure the basic requirements of law and order. In this context, the RAMSI mission in the Solomons serves an important demonstration—both to those who value peace and order and to those who might seek to undermine our efforts.

On 30 June 2017, RAMSI completed its work in Solomon Islands after 14 years.

Australia had filled the post of special coordinator throughout and paid most of its $3 billion cost. The final RAMSI coordinator, Quinton Devlin, told ASPI the mission was a ‘genuine success’ because of the size of the political and community disaster Solomon Islands had avoided.

RAMSI, he said, ‘put an end to a dire humanitarian situation on Australia’s doorstep and reversed the decline of a disintegrating nation that threatened security and stability in the broader Pacific region. RAMSI halted Solomon Islands’ descent into lawlessness and towards economic collapse and state failure.’

The criticisms of RAMSI were often as big as its claimed achievements. The intervention was attacked as an ‘emerging parallel state’, for encroaching on Solomon Islands’ sovereignty, for heavy-handedness and ‘mission creep’.

Devlin’s response was that frequently ‘criticisms came from the political class in Solomon Islands, which in some quarters resisted RAMSI’s suggested good governance and financial reforms, and in others, weren’t happy that RAMSI was involved in the investigation and arrests of MPs’.

The foreign intervention had enjoyed remarkable support: surveys conducted from 2006 to 2013 showed that popular backing for RAMSI never dropped below 85%.

The cost and the long stay reflected the scope of the original mandate agreed by Solomon Islands and the forum, Devlin said, calling for state building, not just stabilisation.

Devlin said RAMSI’s 14-year trek proved that ‘even with all the resources and good will in the world, there are limitations on what states can do to help other states address the causes of their insecurity, even while restoring that security’. He said RAMSI showed that state-building interventions must be:

  • welcomed by the host government and public
  • viewed as providing the nation the time and breathing space to recover the lost ground and address the underlying causes of the conflict, rather than as a panacea for all ills
  • drawn from and endorsed by the region
  • deployed and operated under a clear legal framework
  • commenced with large numbers and superior firepower if restoring law and order
  • not persuaded to draw down quickly or look for an early exit strategy
  • conscious that it could be an extended commitment of up to 15 years.

RAMSI saved the Solomons from crocodiles. That’s more than a figurative boast. The destruction of all guns and the disarmament of local police meant that only RAMSI was legally allowed to possess or use guns.

A crocodile cull was part of what RAMSI did to make Solomon Islands safer.

Drawn from the book on the institute’s first 20 years: An informed and independent voice: ASPI, 2001–2021.

Building resilience to economic coercion in Indo-Pacific island states

The dramatic creation of AUKUS has focused attention on the military response to China’s increasing capacity to project force across the Indo-Pacific. The furore it sparked, highlighted by the predictably strong Chinese claims of retaliation, has fixated global attention on hard power and the prospects of a new cold war.

Yet, economic rather than military might poses the gravest threat to the Indo-Pacific island states. President Xi Jinping is aggressively using China’s growing economic power to achieve political aims, and that is proving much easier than physical intervention.

The rapid expansion of China’s navy and its increasingly global reach have raised concerns for the island countries of the Indian and Pacific Oceans as targets for geopolitical influence. While not intrinsically militarily significant, islands in these oceans have for centuries enabled other states to project power over the seas around them.

Given their potential strategic significance, these islands have been portrayed as soft targets for Chinese economic coercion with serious security and economic consequences for the democratic states of the Indo-Pacific such as the Quad nations.

A new ASPI special report, Economic coercion in Indo-Pacific island states: building resilience, co-written by me and David Brewster, finds that levels of such economic coercion may be more or less than is supposed, depending on the perspective of the observer.

There are significant differences between island countries of the Indian Ocean and the much smaller ones of the Pacific Ocean, but they do share some common vulnerabilities that heighten their sensitivity to economic coercion.

Insularity exposes their supply chains to ready disruption, both natural and political. All are developing states highly dependent on external capital and aid to advance their economies. Their small size coupled with state-dependent, rather than private-sector-driven, domestic economies vests significant control in narrow elites.

Many of these same conditions tend to make it more difficult to identify instances of economic coercion.

The matrix of economic coercion embodies two distinct elements. One axis in the matrix concerns the state’s volition and its interest. Basically, does the state act unwillingly contrary to its own interests?

The second axis concerns the level of pressure or duress used to compel compliance. Duress involves using any combination of overt intimidation, threats and naked physical power to achieve compliance. However, there are forms of ‘undue pressure’ that don’t quite rise to the level of duress.

Given the asymmetries involved, economic and political, China has rarely had to resort to the overt duress to impose coercive economic pressure on the island states of the Indo-Pacific that it has exerted against much larger nations such as Norway, Japan and Australia.

These might be regarded as proxy economic wars in a larger campaign to rewrite international trade rules. Nevertheless, they may also serve to intimidate smaller states.

Supporters of Australia’s resistance to economic coercion argue that the failure of such overt coercion can send the opposite message.

Our report identifies some examples of duress against Indo-Pacific island states such as the choking of Palau’s tourism. However, duress is rarely openly or nakedly applied.

Economic coercion of those states is rare for several reasons.

One key explanation derives from the agency these countries have in entering into economic arrangements that outside observers regard as contrary to the target country’s better interest. Criticisms of ‘roads to nowhere’, overpriced buildings ill-suited to tropical conditions and agreements for unaffordable loans are rejected not so much because they lack substance but because they impugn local decision-making.

In the words of former Samoan Prime Minister Tuilaepa Sailele Malielegaoi, the criticisms question the ‘wisdom and intelligence of the leaders of the Pacific Islands’ who know the interests of their countries better than those who make the complaints.

Similar defences are made of island leaders’ willingness to enter into agreements with China that outsiders deem unwise. Where is the coercion if contracts for the projects requested and the loans to finance them are signed willingly?

Of course, the critics respond, coercive pressure isn’t needed when the decision-making elites are in the pockets of the Chinese. Elite capture can account for corrupt decisions against the target nation’s own interests.

In the end, the grey area of undue pressure—whispered threats, secret promises, manufactured local lobby groups—involves so many different tactics that it’s impossible to prove that economic levers have been pulled to force a favourable outcome for Beijing.

The report also finds that national processes to prevent economic coercion are often neutralised to keep concerns from becoming public. Well-resourced counter-messaging campaigns, favourable agreements with local media, a vocal diaspora and the like can silence local criticism or prevent the exposure of corruption.

Given all the challenges to identifying and exposing economic coercion, the report concludes that building resilience may be difficult but is necessary.

Suggested measures include:

  • developing codes of economic conduct to better identify and limit unacceptable economic duress
  • strengthening government and economic integrity institutions
  • equipping and mobilising island businesses to better protect themselves against the pernicious effects of external economic coercion
  • promoting strong independent media and civil society organisations to enhance transparency and promote the values of an open society.

Cooperating with the Indo-Pacific island states to build this resilience doesn’t depend on validating the extent of economic coercion. To do that would delay any action. And our report shows that finding such proof would be very difficult.

But the suggested measures can strengthen these states against coercion, serve as a prophylactic against the future use of economic duress and, in general, contribute to achieving a free and open Indo-Pacific.

Time for an independent think tank on Pacific security and foreign policy

Good foreign policy and diplomacy and sound national security in the Pacific islands doesn’t just require solid ideas and good plans. It needs robust evidence of what works and a level of informed public debate on what options to pursue. These are often not available in the Pacific islands.

Advancing policy thinking in these areas sometimes requires questioning policy orthodoxies on regional diplomacy and security, and understanding the complexities around which public policies are developed in the islands.

Given all that has happened in the past two years, and the heightened geopolitical interest in the region, it’s time to establish an independent think tank in the Pacific on security and diplomacy to produce better quality foreign policy and security options for Pacific island governments. A Pacific think tank would assist in shaping creative new policy thinking in foreign policy and security to the benefit all island states.

In many parts of the world, think tanks play important roles in developing evidence and ideas for foreign and security policy and in offering a public space for the debate of crucial challenges in diplomacy and national security. They assist diplomats and policymakers with solid and original research as a foundation for making policy judgements.

For example, ASPI has been providing independent, high-level advice to the Australian government as a leading defence and strategic policy think tank since its establishment in 2001. It’s become a trusted source of counsel for Australian leaders and the general public. It leads national debates on defence spending, China, countering covert influence, foreign investment and the machinery of national security decision-making, among other issues.

It’s time that the Pacific island countries progress their foreign policy and national security decision-making with input from a regional think tank to promote informed debate on the crucial security and foreign policy challenges the region faces, including climate change, natural resource management, oceans governance and organised crime.

A regional think tank would offer ‘thinking space’ for island governments to interpret the geopolitical situation in the Pacific. Over time, a Pacific think tank would become the intellectual hub for the region, as well as an informal tool of regional diplomacy, by convening dialogues and workshops on foreign and security policy.

It would inform and lead the regional debate in these areas and ensure that international actors leverage key expertise in the islands. It would make an enormous contribution to the quality of debate among island leaders.

At the moment, the range of alternative views on which island governments can draw for foreign policy and security policy isn’t well developed.

The Australian-funded Pacific Security College is an educational body set up in the Australian National University and is trying to develop as a network. But some in the region view it as very Australian and ANU-centric. The new Pacific Fusion Centre to be opened in Vanuatu later this year should help in providing some longer-range assessments on regional security, and of course the Pacific Islands Forum can be commissioned to produce papers.

Regional and national universities in the Pacific are now mired in governance problems. More broadly, universities aren’t well placed to engage on the practicalities of public policy: they don’t have a sharp focus on better public policy, especially in areas that relate to foreign policy and security.

To be credible, a new Pacific think tank would need to be independent, with a governing board that shouldn’t be able to influence its policy recommendations. Short-term funding would undercut any new think tank’s independence. It would need to be resourced for at least 10 years to build an accepted place in the regional landscape.

Funding of around A$3 million (US$2.3 million ) a year over 10 years would set up a sustainable think tank with a critical mass. But it should also be required to grow its funding base through its own efforts. Possible funders might include Japan and the EU as well as private philanthropists. A new think tank might have a small physical presence but would have virtual links in many of the islands.

The think tank must be something that belongs to the Pacific. It couldn’t be seen as being led by external powers, although they might have a role in it. But a staff of non-islanders telling island states what their foreign policy and security problems are, as well as the solutions, wouldn’t be effective. It would risk being seen as a sort of ‘security colonialism’.

In sum, a new Pacific think tank would inform better quality national security policy options for island governments and offer alternative views to the islands’ own government departments.

A new think tank would help support debate and understanding in the islands on foreign policy and security matters. It would be long-term investment in Pacific islands security.

Policy, Guns and Money: Strategic competition, PRC deterrence and Australia’s climate policy

ASPI’s Lisa Sharland is joined by Joanne Wallis, professor of international security at the University of Adelaide, to discuss her chapter on ‘Strategic competition and the Pacific islands’ in the Institute for International and Strategic Studies Asia–Pacific Regional Security Assessment 2021. They discuss the challenges posed by strategic competition in the region, opportunities for Australian engagement and why Australia should work more closely with partners in the region.

Malcolm Davis speaks to Lieutenant Colonel Kyle Marcrum and Brendan Mulvaney from the US China Aerospace Studies Institute about the concept of deterrence, something they explored in their recent ASPI report, To deter the PRC… They discuss how the People’s Republic of China’s views on and approaches to deterrence differ from those of liberal democracies, and how Australia and its partners should respond.

Climate policy remains a hot topic in Australia. With Barnaby Joyce re-elected as Nationals leader and the federal government still not committing to net-zero emissions by 2050, Anastasia Kapetas and Robert Glasser discuss the Australian government’s current position and the climate risks for Australia and our near region.

US Congress moves to prioritise the Pacific

The US Congress has before it three pieces of legislation that have the potential to significantly alter the depth of US engagement with the Pacific island countries: the Boosting Long-term US Engagement in the Pacific Act, or BLUE Pacific Act; the Honoring Our Commitment to Elevate America’s Neighbor Islands and Allies Act, or Honoring OCEANIA Act; and the Strategic Competition Act. None have yet become law but taken together mark a significant shift in how Congress views Pacific island countries.

The BLUE Pacific Act was first introduced into the House of Representatives by Ed Case (a Democrat) and Ted Yoho (a Republican), both members of the newly established Pacific Islands Caucus. A new version was introduced in May. The proposed act focuses on expanding the US’s diplomatic and development presence in the Pacific islands. It increases US cooperation and assistance to address regional maritime security, transnational crime and law-enforcement issues, including illegal, unreported and unregulated fishing. It also promotes trade and investment, and expands support for public health, education, infrastructure, and climate change resilience and adaptation. Finally, the bill strengthens people-to-people relationships and civil society organisations.

The Honoring Oceania Act similarly has bipartisan support. Like the BLUE Pacific Act, it is intended to elevate Oceania in US national security and economic policy decisions. This includes working with allies in addressing regional issues, like maritime security; illegal, unreported, and unregulated fishing; environmental protection; and disaster preparedness. The bill also requires the inclusion of all developing countries of Oceania in existing strategic planning and program evaluation undertaken by the State Department. The CEO of the US International Development Finance Corporation will be required to produce a strategy for increasing development finance assistance to Oceania countries.

The bill’s other requirements include strengthening disaster risk reduction and resilience, developing a plan to protect critical infrastructure against climate threats and other hazards to the islands, promoting public health capacity, and establishing a restoration and hazard-removal program that supports the surveying, isolation and clearing of buried, abandoned and unexploded World War II ordnance and submerged vessels that pose a risk to the marine environment. To combat corruption, the bill proposes providing assistance to civil society and governments in Oceania, as well as using the Global Magnitsky Act to identify and sanction foreign individuals engaged in corrupt practices in Oceania that threaten economic and democratic progress.

Unlike the other two pieces of legislation, the Strategic Competition Act is focused on China. It originated in the Senate and has bipartisan support. The focus on the bill is on strengthening the US’s diplomatic and economic strategy in countering China. Additional features of the proposed legislation include a Quad intra-parliamentary working group, bringing together legislators from Australia, India, Japan and the US. It also promotes a deeper defence relationship between Japan and Australia that includes supporting reciprocal access agreements and trilateral United States–Japan–Australia intelligence sharing.

With regard to the Pacific islands, the bill specifically calls for drawing on Australian, New Zealand and Japanese expertise in the Pacific to assist in development of the region. The State Department is to create a strategic roadmap for Oceania that includes an analysis of opportunities to cooperate with Australia, New Zealand and Japan in addressing shared concerns and promoting shared goals in pursuit of security and resilience in Oceania.

While bipartisanship alone doesn’t guarantee passage, the fact that Democrats and Republicans can work together on the Pacific islands is noteworthy. The glue that binds the two sides together is competition with China, but the net result can be better and deeper US engagement in the region. In terms of development outcomes, this must surely be a plus.

A second notable thing about these bills concerns congressional efficiency. Unlike its parliamentary cousins, the US Congress, guided by American pluralism, is inefficient at converting proposed legislation into law. Only 2% of the legislation introduced in the 116th Congress became law. There’s no reason to believe the 117th will be any better. Where interests align, like over strategic competition with China, the probability of successful passage increases significantly. The very inefficiency of Congress means that when something does become law, it typically stays that way for a long time. Putting strategic competition into law underscores the view that the US sees this competition as long-term.

The proposed bills’ recognition, as a matter of law, of US allies and partners is also significant. Australia, Japan and New Zealand are named in the legislation. The Honoring Oceania Act and the Strategic Competition Act explicitly instruct the US secretary of state to work with these three countries in developing plans for engaging the Pacific islands.

Australia has played a helpful role in the writing these bills. Congressional staffers see Australia as a go-to resource when it comes to the Pacific island countries. The Australian embassy in Washington has played an important role in supporting the education of congressional members and their staff on Pacific island matters. For example, Australia helped develop the itinerary for congressional staff visiting Fiji, Papua New Guinea and Solomon Islands in 2019. Australia has acted as a channel or mediator for congressional staff and the island states. A senior Capitol Hill staffer commented that Australia had been ‘extremely helpful in connecting us [Congress] with all the right players at the various organizations and embassies’. At some point, a congressional delegation may again make its way to the islands, and when that happens look for Australia and New Zealand to offer a helping hand.

Of course, some in the Pacific may view Australia’s interventions as unwanted. A not unreasonable view is that a regional organisation like the Pacific Islands Forum could easily take on this role instead. Experience has shown, however, that the forum has not delivered on this front. According to one congressional staff member, when offered the opportunity to meet Pacific Island Caucus members in 2019, the islands at first agreed to do so, but then inexplicably pulled out at the last minute. This was a missed opportunity. From the congressional point of view, the Australians and New Zealanders are both accessible and keen to help.

Over the next few months, some language from all three bills will likely end up in one final piece of legislation. That legislation will, in all probability, be some version of the Strategic Competition Act. In practical terms, the US will have committed itself, by an act of Congress, to a deeper and more robust engagement in the Pacific. This will be significant for Washington. For Canberra, the added significance will be the fact that Australia will have used the legislative process to further its own interests of maintaining influence and a voice in US policy and legislative circles.

The Gulliver dilemma: Australia and South Pacific security

‘As one of many Pacific Island nations, Australia is historically and indelibly linked to its neighbours in the region. Our shared history of endurance and mutual assistance during times of major international conflict, natural disaster, climate change and pandemic has forged strong links between Pacific Island neighbours which go beyond statehood and diplomacy.’

Joint Standing Committee on Foreign Affairs, Defence and Trade, Inquiry into Australia’s defence relationships with Pacific island nations, March 2021

‘With limited government reach and resources, but strong subsistence and traditional communities, cultural integrity and traditional ways remain key to the Pacific security agenda.’

Meg Keen, ‘Security through a Pacific lens’, Development Bulletin, no. 82: ‘Perspectives on Pacific security: future currents’, February 2021

Australia tiptoes around the South Pacific, just as Gulliver stepped carefully around the fictional South Seas land of Lilliput.

When Jonathan Swift’s giant washed ashore, the six-inch-tall islanders couldn’t bind Gulliver, and their hundred arrows merely pricked his hand.

Here was a security predicament defined by differences in size, perspective and power.

The tiny Lilliputians couldn’t think of a way to kill Gulliver, so they made him useful. Likewise, Australia is too big for the South Pacific to ignore—and sometimes the giant gets it right, despite those big feet.

The government’s four-year-old Pacific ‘step-up’ means the Gulliver effect is getting lots of fresh thought.

Two meditations on Australia’s role in island security have just arrived, from federal parliament and the Australian National University.

Parliament’s Joint Standing Committee on Foreign Affairs, Defence and Trade, has released its report on defence relations with Pacific island nations. Three other committee reports will soon follow on strengthening relationships with the region, trade and investment with the islands, and the human rights of women and girls in the Pacific. These efforts build on a December 2020 report on the impact of the pandemic on foreign policy and April 2019 report on aid to the Indo-Pacific.

Across the lake from parliament, at the ANU, a special issue of the Development Bulletin, titled ‘Perspectives on Pacific security: future currents’, produced by the Development Studies Network in collaboration the Australian Pacific Security College, marks the first year of the college’s existence (another product of the step-up).

Both embrace a broad definition of security, working from the Pacific Islands Forum’s Boe declaration on regional security.

The joint committee’s traditional statement about Australia’s role—in and of region—is followed by an equally traditional list of ‘existential challenges, including domestic security instability, climate change and geopolitical rivalries’.

The parliamentary report is grounded in Canberra’s conception of the responsibilities it wants to shoulder and the regional leadership it seeks. As ever, Australia’s offer to lead bumps into how much buy-in or followership the islands will give (the need for ‘partnership’ gets 90 mentions in the report’s 75 pages).

The independence of the island states and the Gulliver factor cause some hesitancy. The report’s second paragraph modestly describes Australia as a ‘regional middle power’ while offering to perform lots of roles:

From fisheries management, protection and surveillance, to humanitarian assistance and disaster relief, intelligence collection and sharing, climate change and the global pandemic, Australia’s defence organisation stands ready to play its part in the Pacific Step-up.

The bureaucratic semantics of the step-up mean Canberra concedes no past failure or need for change; instead, we’re going to do much more of what we’re already doing. Embracing this more-of-the-same-but-better approach, the parliamentary committee’s language is about the need to ‘improve’, ‘increase’, ‘respond’ and ‘integrate’. Recommendations include ‘an increase in frequency and intensity of existing surveillance operations’ and increased intelligence sharing.

The one new thought offered as a ‘could’ recommendation is a Pacific islands regiment for the ‘increased and enhanced integration of Australian, Pacific Island and other military forces’.

The Pacific regiment, using equipment, training and facilities supplied by Australia and New Zealand, could do UN work as well as ‘security and stabilisation operations within the island states at the behest of the Pacific Islands Forum’. An earlier version of the regiment idea was offered by ASPI’s Anthony Bergin in 2019 and backed by Fiji’s defence minister. Bergin argued that recruiting islanders into the Australian Defence Force would require only a change of policy, not law.

The ANU’s varied and vigorous perspectives on the Pacific islands’ ‘unique and urgent security needs’ cover geopolitics, governance, food and livelihood, human health and gender, cities, cyber and media (the word ‘security’ occurs 1,532 times in 173 pages).

Meg Keen explains the evolution and expansion of island thinking on security. There’s vintage Steven Ratuva on what Covid-19 means for social solidarity in island communities. New Zealand’s ‘Pacific reset’ gets a fine Anna Powles treatment, a sharper version than the New Zealand government’s submission to the parliamentary inquiry.

Denghua Zhang writes that China’s security focus in the South Pacific is ‘limited in scope and depth’ (none of the People’s Liberation Army’s 130 military attaché offices overseas are in the Pacific). But China’s great-power ambition and ‘the rapid escalation of the US–China rivalry’ are ‘likely to stimulate [the] PLA to develop more substantial security cooperation with Pacific islands’.

One of Oz diplomacy’s finest Pacific hands, James Batley, does nuanced duty on the Gulliver effect and the changed ‘tone’ of the step-up. Canberra isn’t just responding to China, Batley writes, but acting on ‘long-standing’ Oz anxieties about the South Pacific. We were fussing and fretting long before China arrived.

Many island countries, though, ‘do not share Australia’s geostrategic outlook or anxieties’. Noisy headlines about disagreements and tensions are a staple, Batley says, and aren’t definitive indicators of Australia’s declining influence. The Boe declaration provides a ‘common language and vocabulary’ that Australia now routinely uses in its extensive dealings in the region. Canberra has convening power and brings cash and people.

Batley’s conclusion gives a fine summary of the view from both sides of Canberra’s lake:

In the contemporary cliché, the Pacific region is clearly more crowded and contested. It can’t be denied that significant gaps exist between Australian and Pacific Islands’ understandings of and approaches to security in the region. Differences on climate change in particular remain serious … Australia has shown repeatedly that it is able to draw on its assets in the region to protect and to prosecute its security interests, and that those assets are being enhanced through new initiatives.

Scott Morrison’s vision of Australia belonging to the ‘Pacific family’ worries wonks (is it true?) and bureaucrats (what more must we do for the family?).

‘Family’, I submit, is goddam Gulliver genius: Australia may be big and clumsy, but it belongs.