Policing, public trust and the perils of performative oversight

The Canberra Times‘ recent series on ACT Policing raises serious questions – not just about police conduct, but about the integrity of public discourse on policing.

At a time when public trust in law enforcement is fragile, the greatest danger may not be misconduct itself but how it is portrayed.

Trust is the lifeblood of policing. Without it, officers cannot do their jobs effectively, and communities become less safe.

There is no excuse for police abuse of power. Every allegation must be investigated with rigour and transparency. But these investigations must be fair, thorough, and grounded in the reality of frontline policing.

The overwhelming majority of ACT Policing’s 100,000-plus public engagements each year are conducted with professionalism and restraint. Officers deal with violence, mental health crises and social collapse. They are often not just first responders, but the last safety net when all others fail.

Critiquing a use-of-force decision from the comfort of a courtroom or newsroom is easy. It is much harder to make that decision in a dim hallway, amid chaos, with limited information and a split second to act. That reality must inform our commentary. Oversight must acknowledge operational complexity, not ignore it.

Yes, we must scrutinise. But we must also resist the rise of gotcha journalism that privileges outrage over truth.

Reporting isolated cases of misconduct as indicative of systemic rot distorts reality. It erodes public confidence. It undermines the trust that allows police and the community to work together. And, most dangerously, it suggests to the public that accountability does not exist when it does.

ACT Policing is already subject to multiple layers of independent scrutiny.

Professional standards, the Commonwealth Ombudsman, the National Anti-Corruption Commission, coronial inquests and judicial oversight all play a role.

These mechanisms are working. Those incidents that have come to light and are under investigation are not evidence of failure but of function. Cameras and complaints do not signal the absence of accountability. They reflect a system actively engaged in it.

More bureaucracy is not the answer. Adding another oversight body may provide a veneer of action, but it risks duplication, confusion and reduced effectiveness.

We need better resourcing of existing mechanisms, stronger public communication, and procedural consistency. The current system can be improved. However, reform should be based on evidence, not performance politics or social media pressure.

Civil settlements are not admissions of guilt. Not every complaint will end in prosecution. And yes, some complainants will remain dissatisfied. But dissatisfaction is not the same as injustice. The rule of law means fairness for all parties, not just the loudest voice.

Police must be accountable to build and maintain trust, but they must also be treated fairly. Justice requires both scrutiny and context. The community deserves transparency, but it also deserves truth unshackled from sensationalism.

If we care about the safety of our communities and the integrity of our institutions, we must stop reducing policing to headlines and start engaging in serious, balanced reform. We need less theatre and more substance.

Once public trust is lost, it is not easily regained, and no society can afford to police without it.

Can Canberra and Jakarta be more than ‘friends’?

As Anthony Albanese prepares to travel to Jakarta for his first state visit in his second term, the symbolism is clear: Indonesia remains a cornerstone of Australia’s foreign policy.

Since taking office, the Albanese government has prioritised Southeast Asia, laying important groundwork through initiatives such as the 2024 Defence Co-operation Agreement with Indonesia and the Southeast Asia Economic Strategy. But the tangible reality of the relationship with Indonesia remains limited by diverging strategic visions, misaligned expectations and a reluctance to address hard topics.

This means the Prime Minister’s visit must go beyond symbolism. If this partnership is to mature, both sides must start talking honestly about where they differ, where they want to go and how best to get there in lock-step. That’s because beneath the surface of two democracies, the two countries have taken different paths when it comes to issues such as dealing with Russia post the 2022 Ukraine invasion and the region’s most pressing strategic question: how to deal with China.

Since entering office, the Albanese government has approached its China policy through the prism of stabilisation – along with the formula of co-operating where we can, disagreeing where we must, and engaging in the national interest. At the same time, through AUKUS and its support for the Quad, Canberra has doubled down on its alliance with the US and its commitment to a balance-of-power strategy in the Indo-Pacific. It believes US military presence is essential to maintaining regional stability, and it is prepared to take risks to preserve that status quo. Indonesia does not see conflict as inevitable. Instead, it wants to keep both the US and China engaged in multilateral diplomacy, with ASEAN as the central platform. It sees minilateral groupings such as AUKUS and the Quad as challenges to ASEAN’s relevance and Indonesia’s role as a regional power.

Even as Indonesian officials cautiously welcome some aspects of these arrangements, such as the potential for technology sharing or regional deterrence, they remain uneasy about their long-term impact. This divergence is not academic. It affects how each country responds to crises, how they define regional order and how they prioritise partnerships.

Australia is comfortable with hard-edge strategic competition. Indonesia is not. This difference in world views can’t be papered over with warm language or economic initiatives. It needs to be acknowledged, discussed and managed. The recent controversy over claims (subsequently retracted) by outgoing opposition leader Peter Dutton that President Prabowo Subianto had publicly announced a request by Russia to host a naval base in Biak is a case in point. The episode revealed a deeper problem: a lack of trust in how each country interprets and communicates security concerns. In Indonesia, the hosting of any foreign military base – whether Australian, American, Chinese or Russian – is politically toxic and constitutionally restricted.

Suggesting otherwise touches a raw nerve. But not talking at all about the extent of Indonesia’s diplomatic and military relationships with China and Russia is not in Australia’s interests either. If both sides don’t learn to talk more candidly about these issues, they risk fuelling misunderstanding, strategic surprise and backlash.

Beyond differing approaches to strategic competition, the Australia-Indonesia relationship remains hampered by persistent misperceptions. In Indonesia, Australia is still often viewed as a “deputy sheriff” of the US, with lingering suspicions about its intentions toward Indonesian sovereignty. Conversely, many in Australia continue to see Indonesia as vulnerable – both in terms of susceptibility to elite capture and manipulation by malign powers, as well as being too sensitive to any uncomfortable diplomatic discussions. This is why Albanese’s visit must be more than ceremonial. It should mark the start of a more honest phase in the relationship – one where the differences are not hidden but worked through. Albanese and Prabowo must reflect on how their “comprehensive strategic partnership” can become more strategic rather than just comprehensive; characterised by enduring, persistent and tangible gains.

There is plenty to celebrate. The DCA institutionalised what has been a growing defence partnership, including joint training, maritime co-operation and disaster response. It also allows for a larger number of joint exercises. Economically, Australia’s Southeast Asia strategy acknowledges Indonesia as a top-tier priority, backed by new investment and commercial ties. In this context, Albanese’s decision to return to Jakarta sends the right signal. It shows Indonesia matters.

Prabowo’s positive view of Australia also creates a window of opportunity. He has spoken warmly of Australia in the past, often referencing Canberra’s support for Indonesian independence. His new role as President gives him a chance to reset the tone in Jakarta, after a decade in which relations were cordial but limited in strategic depth. Albanese and Prabowo both want to work together – but goodwill alone is not a strategy.

That means augmenting the standard regular, senior-level dialogues and engagements on strategic affairs, not just trade and investment, to deliver tangible solutions to common threats and challenges. These should address hybrid threats, climate security, and the misuse of emerging technologies such as artificial intelligence. In the past, Australia and Indonesia have successfully co-operated on issues such as counter-terrorism and people smuggling – there’s no reason we can’t do the same on today’s emerging risks, risks that will determine future sovereignty and prosperity for both countries.

Tangible co-operation breaks down misperceptions and builds strategic trust – so capability, distinct from intent (on both sides), is consistently understood. This gives Indonesia space to confidently articulate its concerns about regional order. And it allows Australia to assure Indonesia it does not seek to fuel bloc-based confrontation. The Prime Minister has an opportunity to shape how the Australian system conceives of Indonesia – not as a reluctant participant or passive neighbour, but as a strategic partner in its own right.

Creating an alternative to China’s dominance is hard. But this step will help

Australia’s future prosperity will not be built on nostalgia for past booms.

It’ll be forged in the critical supply chains of tomorrow. That’s why Prime Minister Anthony Albanese’s announcement of a $1.2 billion Critical Minerals Strategic Reserve, should Labor be re-elected, is an essential move.

The reserve is smart, pragmatic policy targeting both supply and demand aspects of Australia critical minerals sector. Executed properly, it will shore up Australia’s economic and geopolitical interests in the face of the global energy transition, geopolitical fragmentation, and economic coercion.

Although it’s an important step, if policymakers and industry leaders are serious about delivering sovereign capability, they must build durable partnerships and plan for market instability.

Building a resilient and competitive alternative to China’s critical minerals dominance is a global strategic challenge. It’s a task far bigger than Australia alone can solve.

It demands deep, sustained co-operation with like-minded partners, particularly Japan, the United States, South Korea, India and the European Union.

While calling the announcement visionary may be a stretch, it’s a crucial addition to Australia’s long-term strategy. It signals a serious move beyond simply mining and exporting raw materials, toward making Australia a reliable supplier of refined, high-value minerals.

The reserve’s structure mirrors recommendations made at ASPI’s Darwin Dialogue meetings in 2023 and 2024. It’ll operate through two key mechanisms: government-backed offtake agreements and selective stockpiling.

Offtake agreements are already a familiar tool in the mining sector.

The innovation here is that the Australian government will become the buyer, anchoring investment, setting stable price limits, and smoothing market volatility for producers and customers alike.

Stockpiling will complement this by building reserves of priority minerals to sell strategically into trusted domestic and international markets rather than simply holding resources in reserve.

Together, these mechanisms will stabilise supply, support market confidence and direct value chains away from politically coercive actors.

China’s dominance in the global critical minerals sector results from decades of deliberate policy.

Early action, subsidies, export controls and aggressive price manipulation have created structural dependencies that cannot be overcome through goodwill alone.

There have been few viable options but selling into Chinese-controlled markets.

Supply chains that depend overwhelmingly on a single actor, particularly one willing to weaponise economic relationships, are inherently insecure.

Labor’s proposed reserve accepts this reality and offers a practical response.

Australia cannot assume that action alone will be sufficient. The uncertain trajectory of US industrial policy only reinforces the need for Canberra to work harder with Japan, South Korea, India and the EU.

Building joint stockpiles, pursuing shared downstream investments and integrating offtake arrangements will be essential if Australia and its partners are to create a genuinely diversified and resilient supply chain.

Genuine engagement with Australian industry leaders who have fought to stay viable in a hostile global market will be equally important.

Companies such as Lynas Rare Earths, Iluka Resources and Arafura Rare Earths have hard-earned experience navigating the commercial, technological and political challenges of critical minerals supply.

Their operational knowledge, market intelligence and risk management lessons will be crucial in shaping a strategic reserve that is commercially realistic and strategically effective.

These companies know firsthand the difficulties of competing against state-backed Chinese giants that benefit from subsidies, price manipulation and market coercion.

Despite these distortions, they’ve built capabilities that are globally competitive.

Ignoring their experience would be a strategic mistake.

The proposed reserve fits neatly into the broader Future Made in Australia agenda. It complements the $7.1 billion in production tax credits designed to reduce production costs and strategic investments in Australia’s advanced battery and solar industries.

This layered approach to supply, demand and value-add is exactly what Australia needs.

In time, Australia must pursue co-investment strategies with trusted international partners, moving beyond simple export models to building integrated supply chains.

Strong partnerships with industry will also be essential to scaling up capability and de-risking future investments. As will investment into educating and training the necessary workforce.

The next government should continue to implement critical mineral policy not just as a national security imperative but one that would be seen by the US and other allies as in their interests too.

The critical minerals sector offers Australia a once-in-a-generation opportunity.

It is a chance to move beyond the traditional resource economy and lead in enabling the global energy transition and building high-value technology ecosystems.

The Critical Minerals Strategic Reserve is a smart foundation and a necessary one.

But Australia must act decisively, build strategically, work with trusted partners and listen to its battle-hardened industry leaders if it’s to fully realise this moment’s economic and strategic promise.

Rudd and Shearer aren’t enough. Washington needs to see more Australian heavy hitters

We need more than two Australians who are well-known in Washington.

We do have two who are remarkably well-known, but they alone aren’t enough in a political scene that’s increasingly influenced by personal connections and therefore reputations.

The two are ambassador Kevin Rudd and the director-general of the Office of National Intelligence, Andrew Shearer. In dozens of meetings with officials, politicians, industry and think tanks in Washington on a recent trip, I repeatedly heard people mention Rudd and Shearer – but rarely other Australians.

What happens when one or both of those people are no longer in office? This country should systematically promote other people with strong reputations and work on developing more heavy hitters for the future.

Australia’s overriding national security issue is the risk that China dominates our region, establishes its authoritarian political system as the norm and uses coercion to extract what it wants from other countries at the expense of their liberty and prosperity.

While Australia must do what it can to look after its own security, we are much better placed with a strong US commitment to our region and to the alliance. It is therefore essential that our voice is heard in Washington.

Traditionally, a person’s access to US officials was determined mainly by his or her position, though reputation and contacts have always been important. But, even before the re-election of Donald Trump, reputation and contacts were pulling ahead of office as influential factors.

I saw in Washington in March and April that they were now dominant. My discussions took place in the usual departments and sensitive compartmented information facilities (known as SCIFs) but also in cafes, restaurants and bars. If you are a government official and work only 9 to 5 on Monday to Friday, on Monday morning you will be behind and scrambling to catch up.

Business these days is done everywhere all the time, and when it’s done away from the office, it’s more likely to be arranged at a personal level.

We are lucky to have Rudd and Shearer, who are well known by Republicans, Democrats and senior bureaucrats. They have both done excellent jobs in building their international networks over many decades, especially in Washington, the hub for international, security and defence debates. It shouldn’t be missed that both have spent time in think tanks and have diverse work experience across government and non-government.

Rudd is seen as a globally recognised, Mandarin-speaking expert on China. He also has great prestige as a past prime minister, which is a stronger factor in the United States, with its presidential system of government and respect for former leaders, than is generally appreciated in Australia.

Shearer is further elevated by being seen in Washington as the Australian official who is most nearly a national security adviser, a position that grabs attention in Washington.

It’s not his job that gives him this status, but his reputation for understanding global security issues. It isn’t hard to understand that we need to offer more than two people whom influential Americans are keen to meet, especially with Shearer based in Canberra.

Behind Rudd and Shearer, the bench is not deep. There are former and current intelligence chiefs, for example, who are listened to globally and have built strong relationships in the US intelligence community, including ASIO boss Mike Burgess.

Why do we have so few others of the status of Rudd and Shearer? The best explanation is the increasingly domestic focus of Canberra. Serving ministers and responding to a 24-hour media cycle is busy, urgent work. Talking points, possible parliamentary questions, Senate estimates, meeting records and minutes, reams of briefs absorb enormous resources.

I don’t exaggerate too much in saying that we’re incentivising the development of bureaucratic clones.

Yet we do have people in the public service with potential to become heavy hitters internationally. For the medium term, say, the 2030s and beyond, we should identify and begin cultivating them now, putting them in positions in which they can build reputations.

Foreign and security policy requires big picture strategic thinking, an understanding of defence, diplomacy, economics, politics and culture. People with this stature globally have worked through the major crises and twists of recent history.

They’ve built the confidence to be risk managers, not risk-averse. They’ve been mentored by the previous generation of giants. They’ve stood at the shoulders of influential leaders, ready to provide whispered sober advice at moments when an ability to see the forest rather than just the trees was most crucial.

They painstakingly earn their reputations, which then precede them through the doors into the most powerful rooms on earth.

We must identify those Australians who are already on their way to developing strong reputations – perhaps people in government but particularly in academia, business and think tanks.

ASPI is only one of several suitable hosts for the task, but we are also the only one with an office in Washington. Unfortunately, support for our DC office was cut in a government review of national security think tanks.

It’s poor timing to have fewer Australian voices and less convening power in Washington, which is why we aim to keep the office open.

One move that is guaranteed to deliver short-term results is for the next government to create a position of national security adviser. American officials notice that we don’t have one. So do friends in Europe and Asia.

All of our Quad partners, for example, have the role and they meet regularly, with no Australian at the table. In general, a job title may have lost its lustre in gaining traction in Washington, but the job title of national security adviser hasn’t.

Moreover, its lustre will stay with its office holder after he or she has moved on to other things.

So it’s a national priority: create people who, in an increasingly personalised Washington, are attractions not because of their jobs, but because of the wisdom for which they’re recognised. That’s what, and who, we need more of.

Australia should talk to Washington about buying B-2 stealth bombers

China’s recent naval circumnavigation of Australia has highlighted a pressing need to defend Australia’s air and sea approaches more effectively. Potent as nuclear submarines are, the first Australian boats under AUKUS are at least seven years away. Air power is well-positioned to fill the gap in Australia’s long-range strike capability: It has clear advantages over submarines and ships in terms of its responsiveness in the maritime strike role.

But the F-35A and F/A-18F lack the necessary range, and Australia has not fielded a bomber since the F-111 was retired in 2010. No new candidate aircraft has been identified as available for purchase, on a timeline that is relevant, or on a budget within Australia’s means.

Solving this problem requires imagination from Australia as well as its key ally, the US. Fortunately, there is a solution at hand but, like the aircraft itself, it is not easy to detect. As unlikely as it sounds, Australia should pursue America’s B-2A Spirit bomber, and has a narrow opportunity to do so.

Australia, to be clear, would be acquiring the B-2A as a fully sovereign capability, to boost its deterrent and war-fighting capabilities, with China’s strategic challenge primarily in mind. America would also gain by further enabling a close ally to make a stabilizing contribution to the regional balance of power, through a significant augmentation to its air power, alongside the development of undersea and other capabilities via AUKUS.

The B-2A is well suited to meet Australia’s capability requirements in terms of range, payload and stand-alone platform survivability. There are indications that the B-2A is already transitioning to a long-range precision strike role — delivering such weapons as the Joint Air-to-Surface Standoff Missile (Extended Range) with which it was integrated in 2022. Maritime strike was a particular focus of the B-2A’s participation in last year’s RIMPAC exercises, when it demonstrated the use of modified JDAM gravity bombs as low-cost ship-sinkers. These are capabilities the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) already fields.

Obviously, Australia would need to clear some major obstacles to acquire the B-2A.

First, the US has never before entertained exporting the Spirit, given its limited numbers (only 18 remain) and proprietary technology. Second, Australia would be concentrating a multibillion-dollar investment into very few platforms, just when the Australian Defence Force arguably needs to pivot away from ”exquisite” capabilities and inject greater mass, depth and risk-worthiness into its order of battle. Third, the B-2A serves the USAF in a nuclear as well as conventional delivery role, which would have to be reconciled with Australia’s prohibition on possessing nuclear weapons. Finally, Australian critics of the Trump administration would pillory such an acquisition as foolhardy, at a time when doubts about Washington’s political reliability as an ally are peaking.

Without dismissing these drawbacks, there is a pathway for Australia to acquire a viable B-2A bomber capability, on a timeline that is relevant to its strategic needs. And the window of opportunity is relatively slim— requiring decisive action by Canberra within the next couple of years.

Why Not Other Aircraft?

What about other options? There are really only three other avenues, all with significant downsides: buying into the US’s future B-21 Raider program, acquiring B-1B Lancer bombers as they are retired from the USAF, or trying to tie into the British-Italian-Japanese GCAP effort.

While it would provide a capability for the long term, the problem with the B-21 option for Australia is that it conflicts with the USAF’s overriding need to recapitalize its own bomber force. It would therefore not be available until well into the 2030s — if at all. Cost is another factor, at an estimated $16-18 billion USD for a squadron of twelve. And while the B-21 remains laudably on track, indeed under-budget in the FY25 appropriations request, the potential for cost overruns and delays remains.

The main advantage of pressing used USAF B-1Bs into Australian service is that the Lancers are flying now and are already configured for anti-ship missions. The major downside is that the RAAF would have to assume the full burden for the B-1B’s sustainment while the USAF pivots resources to the B-21. Designed for an operational lifespan of 8,000-10,000 flying hours, the B-1Bs now average above 12,000 hours because of the aircraft’s extensive use as a loitering close air-support platform in Iraq and Afghanistan, and the USAF has retired them from all but short-duration missions. While statistics on flying hours aren’t publicly available for the B-2A, the USAF has been much more sparing with them than the B-1B. Australia would be investing at the point of sharply diminishing returns.

The GCAP joint venture aircraft, while not a bomber per se, is likely to be large enough to be considered in the long-range strike role. Australian interest in the program is rising and GCAP is likely to be more affordable than the B-21. But it may not be available on a significantly more favorable timeline, and there is a constant concern that the multi-national nature of the program could lead to delays or spiraling costs.

Meanwhile, the Spirit is already on borrowed time in USAF service, as it will be retired (along with the B-1B) in the early 2030s in order to accommodate the transition to the B-21, without expanding the overall size of Global Strike Command. Although a precise date is difficult to identify, provided the B-21 rollout proceeds smoothly, the USAF could potentially start retiring B-2As at the end of this decade without reducing its overall bomber fleet. (While the USAF has previously stated it could keep the B-2As flying into the 2040s, Northrop Grumman’s $7 billion contract for B-2A maintenance and support concludes at the end of 2029.)

Retiring the B-1B and B-2A in parallel (the venerable B-52 will be retained in service) creates an expensive and burdensome disposal problem for the USAF. Framed in this context, an Australian pitch to buy eight or more B-2As could be well received by both the USAF and the Trump administration, which has emphasized the need for stepped-up burden sharing from allies.

How This Could Work

Make no mistake, this would be a costly effort, one that would have to come as part of a significant uplift in defense spending, closer to 3 percent of GDP, up from roughly 2 percent GDP today. But if the government is willing to do that, then there are mutual benefits for both Canberra and Washington.

Australia has upgraded several air bases to support regular deployments of USAF bombers and other combat aircraft, and B-2As have already operated from Australia, albeit on short-term detachments. An Australian base in the Northern Territory was used to support a B-2A strike mission against Houthi targets in Yemen last October, most likely for refueling.

Future B-2A deployments to Australia could be scaled up, to further explore the practical challenges of maintaining and sustaining these aircraft here. Deep maintenance might still have to be done in the US, and Australia would need to support that part of any agreement. But as the USAF transitions towards B-21, Australia could incrementally take on more of the funding for B-2A maintenance, easing the cost on American taxpayers. Assuming some overlap in the sustainment footprint between the B-2A and B-21, the RAAF and USAF could also develop shared support facilities, in Australia, for Spirits transferring into Australian service as sovereign assets, as well as B-21s which the USAF could begin to forward deploy to Australia around the same time. This promises economies of scale, within an alliance framework.

While the B-2A would be a stopgap capability for Australia, a further advantage of operating it is that it would provide the RAAF with a pathway to transitioning to the B-21, if it eventually becomes available in sufficient numbers for the US to consider exporting it to Canberra.

To assuage anti-nuclear concerns in Australia, the systems that allow the B-2A to carry nuclear weapons could be disabled through software changes that conform to RAAF standards. Similarly, adapting the B-2A for anti-ship weapons, like LRASM, could be done without insurmountable delays.

All this would require a major Australian diplomatic effort to persuade Washington that it can be trusted to safeguard such highly prized stealth and other technologies via a foreign military sale. But the precedent created by AUKUS, Australia’s subsequent ITAR carve-outs and the existing, close relationship between the RAAF and USAF would do much to make this transfer practicable.

Yes, it’s wildly ambitious. Yes, the hurdles to making this happen may simply be too many to overcome. But now is the time for Canberra to be contemplating bold moves, and convincing the US to sell the B-2A would transform Australia’s defense posture on a significantly faster timeline — an effort worth pursuing to meet the gathering threats.

A tale of two fleets: gunboat diplomacy in an era of rising military power

When the US Navy’s Great White Fleet sailed into Sydney Harbour in 1908, it was an unmistakeable signal of imperial might, a flexing of America’s newfound naval muscle. More than a century later, the Chinese navy has been executing its own form of gunboat diplomacy by circumnavigating Australia – but without a welcome. The similarities and differences between these episodes tell us a lot about the new age of empires in which Australia now finds itself.

Both were shows of force. The former expressed President Teddy Roosevelt’s foreign policy of speaking softly while carrying a big stick – the original version of peace through strength – while the latter aimed at disturbing the peace.

The Great White Fleet’s visit was a spectacle. Australians cheered as 16 gleaming battleships, painted white and with shiny trim, paraded into Sydney Harbour. A flight of steps, the Fleet Steps, was specially built in the Royal Botanic gardens to receive the American visitors.

The visit was a calculated diplomatic manoeuvre by Prime Minister Alfred Deakin in making the invitation and by US President Teddy Roosevelt in accepting it. Both Australia, a young federation deeply tied to the British Empire, and the United States, a rising but not yet super power, saw value in signalling US Pacific presence to Japan.

For Roosevelt, the fleet also presented his big-stick foreign policy to European nations: the US had arrived as a global power. Just as important, he saw the fleet’s world tour as helpful in explaining to the American people why they needed to spend money on defence, including ships, as their country opened up to global opportunities but also threats. Deterrence, preparation, social licence all strengthened national resilience.

Deakin saw the chance and didn’t just invite the fleet to Australia but engineered the visit. He wanted the visit to kindle the notion in Australia that it should have its own fleet. Irregular Royal Navy deployments to the Far East could not guarantee Australian security.

Also like Roosevelt, Deakin knew that a passive approach to defence policy would not keep the nation safe in an era of rising military powers, with a strategic shift to proactive engagement needed urgently, not only once a crisis had begun. He was especially concerned about Japan’s growing sea power but, again like Roosevelt, he also had an eye on Russian and (later) German sea power.

While Deakin wanted a national navy and was an empire man, he thought it prudent to start building a partnership with the US. Not yet replacing Britain as global leader, it had burst on to the strategic scene only a decade earlier. It had annexed the Philippines in 1898 in the Spanish-American War and, in the same year, the Hawaiian Islands. These made the US a Pacific power.

Both men in the early 1900s understood the connection between European and Pacific security and both set out to protect their national interests by working together against European and Asian powers seeking to create instability and spheres of influence.

As Russell Parkins well describes in Great White Fleet to Coral Sea, Deakin noted in one of his written invitations to the US that “No other Federation in the world possesses so many features of likeness to that of the United States as does the Commonwealth of Australia”. Roosevelt later acknowledged he had not originally planned for the fleet to visit Australia but that Deakin’s invitation had confirmed his “hearty admiration for, and fellow feeling with, Australia, and I believe that America should be ready to stand back of Australia in any serious emergency”.

This was naval might wielded with soft edges: immense firepower floating on the harbour, and friendly chats over tea ashore.

Today the strategic environment again involves European and Asian powers – Russia and China – seeking spheres of influence, only the dynamics of the naval visit couldn’t be more different. No time for afternoon tea, just the reality that Australia faces a security threat from Beijing that demands national preparedness and international friendships and alliances.

When Australia and China encounter each other at sea, the interactions are adversarial, accompanied by dangerous Chinese manoeuvres, high-powered lasers shining into cockpits, chaff dropped into Australian aircraft engines and sonar injuring Australian navy divers. These are not friendly port calls but dangerous military activities and displays of coercive statecraft.

The Great White Fleet sought goodwill and alliances. China’s naval behaviour is an assertion of dominance. If the Australian public were in any doubt about how Beijing intended to interact with the region, China’s behaviour in this most recent episode should be instructive. The lack of warning given to Australia was a warning itself of what is to come. Beijing wants us to heed it and submit.

We must not submit. We must learn from the incident and change Beijing’s behaviour.

When a Chinese naval flotilla last made a port call to Sydney, in 2019, it was met with some public unease, if not alarm. Australia had, after all, approved the visit. But through a combination of Canberra’s ignorance of history and Beijing’s aim of rewriting it, the visit was approved without recognising that it coincided with the 30th anniversary of the Tiananmen Square massacre.

Not long after the negotiated port visit, China suspended ministerial-level engagement as part of coercion to bring Australia into line. Despite some warming in relations in recent years, Beijing chose not to give Australia advance notice of live-fire exercises. The same Beijing that only a few years ago gave notice of a visit now has the confidence to fire at will.

Australia must stop being surprised by every new Chinese military or hybrid warfare development. Beijing’s confidence is growing in all domains, including cyberspace. With intrusions known as Volt Typhoon, China’s intelligence agencies were outed in 2023 as having pre-positioned malware for disrupting and destroying our critical infrastructure. This should also be seen as a rehearsal for later cyber moves.

And now, for the first time in the modern era, we have seen a potential adversary rehearse its wartime kinetic strategy against Australia. Yes, the Japanese did surveillance and intelligence gathering before World War II, but this circumnavigation with live-fire exercises takes us well beyond intelligence collection. Beijing has been undertaking “intelligence preparation of the battlespace” for some time with ships it frequently sends to Australian waters to observe our exercises or to conduct oceanographic studies (which improve submarine operations).

Just as the Great White Fleet helped to inspire the development of an Australian navy, the Chinese flotilla should warn us that our own fleet needs to be larger and ready to assure our security. The rhyme of history is that distant fleets operating in Australian waters matter and should spur our own thinking (and act as catalysts for action) regarding Australian sovereign capabilities.

After all, these episodes underscore an enduring truth about Australia’s geopolitical reality: we are a regional power situated between global hegemons and their very large navies. One could even say that we are girt by sea power. But this is not new territory; it is the blessing and burden of geography and history.

Whether it was navigating the transitions from British to American primacy in the Pacific or more recently adjusting to China’s challenge to the US-led order, Australia has always had to manage its strategic relationships with agility and nuance.

The key difference, of course, is that Australia welcomed the Great White Fleet in 1908 with open arms. Today, Australia finds itself on the receiving end of an unwelcome presence by ships that appear uninterested in friendly port visits. This demands a response that is not reckless but is firm enough to avoid being feckless.

Although the position is difficult, the Australian government should not think it must walk a tightrope in dealing with China. The strength of response to Beijing’s aggression should depend on the minimum needed to deter more aggression, not by a perceived maximum that will leave trade and diplomatic relations unharmed. European countries have made such mistakes in handling Russia – declining to hold it to account in the hope that Putin would keep selling gas to them and delay military action.

There’s no use in pretending or hoping there is nothing to see here except one-off instances of unpleasant behaviour. China’s aggression follows its concept of dealing with the rest of the world, and it won’t stop. Quiet diplomacy won’t deter Beijing from more dangerous behaviour but will embolden it to repeat its actions. Each instance will show Australia is incapable of doing anything about it until Beijing – mistakenly or intentionally – goes so far as to make conflict inevitable. Australia’s time to stand up cannot wait until a live fire drill becomes just live fire.

As Teddy Roosevelt put it, big-stick foreign policy involves “the exercise of intelligent forethought and of decisive action sufficiently far in advance of any likely crisis”. Navigating the best response to aggression therefore requires clarity about what is at stake.

What Australia does in the South China Sea – where it operates in accordance with international law alongside allies – is not equivalent to China’s recent foray into the Tasman Sea. Beijing’s actions represent yet another demonstration of reckless behaviour, following its dangerous harassment of Australian forces. By making various attacks – with lasers, chaff or sonar – China shows an undeniable pattern of attempted intimidation. When Australia sails into international waters, we do so to maintain the rules-based order and promote regional stability, yet when China does the same it is often to undermine the rules and destabilise the region.

The intimidation is in fact regional; it’s not just about Australia. Just as the Great White Fleet demonstrated America’s arrival as a Pacific power, China’s naval activities signal Beijing’s intent to reshape the region’s strategic balance. Australia, as it has done before, must adapt. It must spend more on its own defence capabilities, deepen relationships with like-minded democracies and maintain the diplomatic dexterity that has long supported its survival in a world of rising and falling empires.

Most importantly, the government must bring the Australian public along for the voyage. The threat from China should surprise Australians no more than the threat from Putin should surprise Europeans.

Knowledge is power and the Australian public can be empowered, and therefore prepared, not to be shell-shocked by China’s aggression. It should instead be reassured that the Australian government has the situation in hand and that defence investment is a downpayment on our future security. It should be reassured that the spending makes conflict less likely.

Australia is not a major power, but we have the world’s 13th largest economy and are not without influence. We should stop seeing ourselves as a middling middle power. We definitely shouldn’t act as a small power. We should be confident as a regional power. Our voice, actions and choices matter at home and abroad. It’s why Washington wants us as an active partner and Beijing wants us to be a silent one. Australia’s global advocacy for a rules-based system, and its public calling out of Beijing’s wrongdoing have been highly valued in Europe, Asia and North America.

Smaller regional countries rely on us to stand up to Beijing where they feel unable, while Europe increasingly knows the fight against Russia is also a fight against Russia’s ‘no-limits’ partner, China. And an Australia that stands up for itself and our friends will again demonstrate the value of partnerships to our ally the US.

Roosevelt’s Great White Fleet epitomised show of force as a means to deter conflict as well as preparation should deterrence fail. (Its cruise was also an exercise in long-range deployment.) The time for deterrence and preparation is with us once again. A Chinese foreign ministry spokesperson said this month that China was ready for war, ‘be it a tariff war, a trade war or any other type of war, we’re ready to fight till the end.’

We need to show, along with our ally the US and other partners, that war is not what we want but is something we are prepared for. If we cannot show that we have a capable stick, and the intention to use it if required, we will be defeated with or without a fight.

As Teddy Roosevelt said: “Peace is a great good; and doubly harmful, therefore, is the attitude of those who advocate it in terms that would make it synonymous with selfish and cowardly shrinking from warring against the existence of evil.”

The past tells us that navigating strategic competition requires a blend of strategic foresight and political agility. The echoes of 1908 should serve as both warning and guidepost for the uncertain waters ahead.

As Trump sacks scientists, let’s hire them. His drain is our brain gain

President Donald Trump, his powerful offsider Elon Musk and his Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) are slashing public spending in an effort to save US taxpayers anywhere between $US500 billion ($793 billion) and $US2 trillion.

Caught up in these enormous cuts are scientists, researchers, medical experts, technologists and PhD scholars who are losing jobs, grants and scholarships at an unprecedented rate as funding streams are cancelled or put on hold.

To date, DOGE has allegedly made only $US105 billion of cuts. This means they have, at minimum, hundreds of billions to go. In the science and technology sector, these early cuts may be just the beginning.

Believe it or not, there is enormous opportunity for Australia in this unusual situation. If the government acts quickly, this is a once-in-a-century brain gain opportunity.

Australia should take a two-pronged approach. We should attract some of our best and brightest back home from places such as Silicon Valley while also offering fast-track visas to top US-based scientists and researchers who are newly out of a job or low on the funding they need to keep their start-up or scientific lab running.

Australia’s ability to keep up with rapid advances in scientific developments and critical technologies will determine the shape and size of our economy for decades to come. Most of our strategic partners – the US, Japan, the UK, the European Union and South Korea – are larger and have globally competitive tech sectors they’ve spent decades building. In recent years, these have included artificial intelligence, semiconductors, quantum and biotechnology.

As a mid-sized mining and tourism-dependent economy, Australia has long known we need to diversify our economy and increase our low national spend on research and development, which sits well below the OECD average. We also know we need greater self-sufficiency so we don’t continue to become overreliant on any one single market for access to technologies we have deemed “critical” to our future. Building greater sovereign capability in our science and technology sector is a more important goal than ever.

But we are struggling to keep pace with others. We haven’t spent decades investing in building up our tech sector or making big technological bets when we’ve had the opportunity. Things are now moving so quickly that we’re increasingly in danger of being completely left behind.

Coming from behind doesn’t mean we can’t catch up. It does mean, however, that we need to prioritise innovative and out-of-the-box thinking, and we must take more risks.

In early 2025, we find ourselves in an unusual situation where our closest ally has, rather unexpectedly, flooded the global market with science and technology talent. The cuts are ongoing and broad, impacting everything from medical schools advancing cancer prevention to high-performance computing and the use of AI in national security work.

Other countries will respond to this opportunity quickly. As public funding into universities declines and US universities reduce PhD admissions, top Chinese universities are already proactively recruiting overseas students, allowing undergraduates to skip traditional pathways to fill up PhD programs in areas such as mathematics, engineering, computer science and environmental science.

Canada, seen as a global leader for attracting technology talent, is likely to be a key beneficiary of this talent flood. Its variety of visas, low processing times and proactive talent recruitment campaigns is one reason it recently saw 10,000 foreign tech workers in the US apply for permanent residence in Canada in one 48-hour period.

For decades, the US has provided funding and a home for many of our scientists, entrepreneurs and technologists. Now there’s a unique opportunity for us to reverse that brain drain while also increasing our investment in US talent and technologies. In doing so, we’d be contributing to greater burden-sharing in the US-Australia alliance (specifically AUKUS Pillar 2), noting that Australia has long benefited from – even piggybacked – on US scientific advancements and breakthroughs made in everything from health to renewable energies to defence technologies.

In order to identify the types of scientists, researchers and technologists that would be of greatest benefit to Australia and the potential visa options open to them, the Department of Home Affairs should work with our diplomats, defence, CSIRO, intelligence community and others to form a small, agile taskforce.

Minister for Home Affairs Tony Burke should work with parliamentary colleagues and his department to quickly explore options to expand and fast-track visas. Visa options must be fast and flexible, or we’ll lose out to other countries vying for their expertise.

US ambassador Kevin Rudd and his team are well-placed to provide a picture of which top scientists have lost funding. They could work with others in government to promote Australia as a top destination for technology talent while also working collaboratively with the US government to explain how these investments would also benefit them.

The government can play a key knowledge broker role by helping to link up scientific labs and start-ups with grant opportunities, universities and venture capital firms open to investing in them. In exceptional cases, wealthy individuals should make an extraordinary contribution to Australia’s national interests by partnering with the government to attract outstanding scientists and their teams. This public-private investment may end up helping Australia through the next pandemic, provide us with a leading edge in AUKUS Pillar 2 technologies, or devise a cure for Alzheimer’s. It could unearth new methods for environmentally sustainable and cost-competitive extraction of critical minerals. All would provide shared benefit to our alliance with the US and close partnerships.

Knowing Musk’s cuts will continue, the winner of the Australian election should assess and expand this talent drive, particularly given the inevitable benefits to our job market and national prosperity.

In 2025, in the concerning global environment we find ourselves in, a “business as usual” approach won’t cut it. Australia must be ready to jump on rare opportunities as they arise, take more risks and make big bets. An enormous opportunity is here now. Soon it will be staring us in the face. It’s time for our parliamentarians to jump.

‘Amusing ourselves to death’ in age of TikTok

Forty years ago, in a seminal masterpiece titled Amusing Ourselves to Death, American author Neil Postman warned that we had entered a brave new world in which people were enslaved by television and other technology-driven entertainment. The threat of subjugation comes not from the oppressive arm of authoritarian regimes and concentration camps but from our own willing submission and surrender.

“Big brother does not watch us, by his choice. We watch him, by ours,” Postman wrote in 1985.

“There is no need for wardens or gates or Ministries of Truth. When a population becomes distract­ed by trivia, when cultural life is redefined as a perpetual round of entertainments, when serious public conversation becomes a form of baby-talk, when, in short, people become an audience and their public business a vaudeville act, then a nation finds itself at risk; culture-death is a clear possibility.”

Postman’s insight would have been spot-on had he written this today about TikTok. Postman was mostly thinking about mass media with a commercial imperative. People would be enslaved to superficial consumerism. But add a technologically advanced authoritarian power with platforms that – unlike terrestrial TV – are essentially borderless and can reach around the globe, and you have George Orwell’s Big Brother put together with Aldous Huxley’s cultural and spiritual entropy.

Addictive digital entertainment can be corrosive even without a malign puppeteer. But with an entity such as the Chinese Communist Party fiddling the algorithms, it could be catastrophic.

Just in 2025, we have seen much of the Western world so spellbound by TikTok that the thought of living without it brought on the anguish normally reserved for the impact of conflict. “TikTok refugees” became a description, as though they had been displaced like Jews fleeing Europe or Yazidis escaping Islamic State.

Postman noted that we were innately prepared to “resist a prison when the gates begin to close around us … But what if there are no cries of anguish to be heard? Who is prepared to take arms against a sea of amusements?”

The cries of anguish were depressingly muted as TikTok built up a following in Western countries that now means four in 10 Americans aged under 30 get their “news” from TikTok, according to a recent survey by the Pew Research Centre.

When a ban was flagged, the cries came from those who couldn’t bear to give up the platform and from free speech absolutists who believed any rules amounted to government overreach. If our most popular radio stations had been based in Germany in the late 1930s, the Soviet Union during the Cold War or Syria during the ISIS caliphate, our leaders would have protected the public, regardless of popularity and notwithstanding that it would constitute government intervention in the so-called free market of ideas.

In fact, the market isn’t free because powerful actors can man­ipulate the information landscape.

Billionaire Elon Musk gives free-speech advocates a bad name by posting not just different opinions but promoting false content on issues such as Ukraine on his platform X. But more sinister is a platform such as TikTok, which is headquartered in authoritarian China and ultim­ately at the control of the CCP, with algorithms that have been demonstrated to manipulate audiences by privileging posts that serve Beijing’s strategic interests and downgrading content that does not.

Despite such threats, we have no clear framework to protect ourselves from powerful information platforms, including the newest generative artificial intelligence models such as DeepSeek, which will be increasingly available – and, thanks to their affordability, attractive – despite operating under Chinese government control. As a US court declared in upholding the congressional ban on TikTok, giving a foreign power a vector to shape and influence people’s thinking was a constraint on free speech, not an enabler of it.

Freedoms of speech and expression are core democratic principles but they need active protection. This means the involvement of governments.

US Vice-President JD Vance told the Munich Security Conference that Donald Trump represented a “new sheriff in town” who would defend free speech and “will fight to defend your right to offer it in the public square, agree or disagree”. It was an admirable derivative of the quote attributed to Evelyn Beatrice Hall describing Voltaire’s principle of “I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it”. But just as we have regulators for financial and other markets, we need regulation of our information markets.

By all means, speech should be as free as possible. Awful mustn’t equal unlawful, to borrow ASIO boss Mike Burgess’s phrase. Speech that hurts the feelings of others or advocates unpopular views cannot be the threshold for censorship. Such lazy and faint-hearted policymaking creates only a more brittle society. But that doesn’t mean we should make ourselves fish in a barrel for malign foreign powers.

Anarchy is not freedom. Governments need to brave the minefield that is modern information technology. If a platform poses risks that cannot be avoided, as with TikTok, it should be banned.

Other platforms that sit within democratic nations’ jurisdictions should be subjected to risk mitigations such as content moderation to deter and punish criminal activity. X, Facebook, Instagram and YouTube can be used as avenues for information operations, as shown by Russia buying advertisements on Facebook or CCP-backed trolls posting on X and YouTube, or be used as vectors for organised crime. Even the most ardent free-speech advocates would agree that drug trafficking, child abuse or joining a terrorist group are illegal offline and therefore should be illegal online.

No marketplace remains free and fair when governments overregulate or abdicate responsibility.

The once-free markets of trade and investment have been eroded by China to such an extent that just this week Trump issued a foreign investment policy to protect American “critical technology, critical infrastructure, personal data, and other sensitive areas” from “foreign adversaries such as the PRC”, including by making “foreign investment subject to appropriate security provisions”.

A key principle of the new presidential policy is that “investment at all costs is not always in the national interest”.

In other words, security measures and rules keep American critical infrastructure free.

While it has not yet gained much media attention, it is among the most important economic security policies ever taken to counter Beijing’s objective to “systematically direct and facilitate investment in United States companies and assets to obtain cutting-edge technologies, intellectual property and leverage in strategic industries”, and all of America’s allies and democratic partners should publicly support it and implement it domestically.

We like to think that technologies are neutral mediums that are only vehicles for improvement. As Postman wrote, this belief often rises to the status of an ideology or faith.

“All that is required to make it stick is a population that devoutly believes in the inevitability of progress,” he wrote. “And in this sense … history is moving us toward some preordained paradise and that technology is the force behind that movement.”

Science and technology have of course delivered extraordinary improvements to our health, our economic productivity, our access to information and our ability to connect with other people regardless of geography – provided we engage with it wisely. We must not become cynical about technology entirely, which is why we must maintain control over it and ensure it serves our interests.

The ultimate solution is knowledge and participation. As Postman concluded, the answer must be found in “how we watch”. With no discussion on how to use technology, there has been no “public understanding of what information is and how it gives direction to a culture”.

Postman wrote that “no medium is excessively dangerous if its users understand what its dangers are”. He insisted we were “in a race between education and disaster”.

What Donald Trump Can Learn From Allies on Foreign Aid

There are smarter and more effective ways to streamline and re-strategize U.S. foreign aid.

The Trump administration is not the first Western government to envision a stronger, safer, and more prosperous country by integrating foreign aid with strategic objectives. The experiences of America’s Five Eyes partners, particularly Australia and the United Kingdom, offer encouraging evidence for reform, having achieved tightly targeted development programs supporting diplomatic and strategic priorities. They also offer sobering lessons about implementation pitfalls, including the abrupt disruption of established programs, especially those already aligned with strategic policy, loss of critical skills among government personnel, and heightened unease among international partners. 

The logic driving aid integration is compelling. In an era of great power competition, maintaining separate tracks for diplomacy and development is an unaffordable luxury. China has harnessed development, along with trade and financial investment, as an instrument of strategic influence through both soft and hard means. Both Australia and the UK recognized this reality, merging their aid agencies (AusAID and DFID, respectively) into their foreign ministries to create more strategically coherent development policies. Having made clear its intent to fundamentally reshape USAID, the Trump administration has the opportunity to learn from its allies in the pursuit of the American national interest. 

A Unified Strategy: Australia 

The Australian government integrated the Australian Aid Agency (AusAID) with the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade in 2013 with the stated goal of better aligning Australia’s development, foreign policy, trade priorities, strategies, and objectives while bringing an enhanced focus on the Indo-Pacific. The integration accompanied a reduction of Australia’s development funding. After reaching a peak of more than AUD $5 billion in 2013–14, or .33 percent of gross national income (GNI), Australia’s development budget has progressively declined, and in 2023–2024 was AUD$4.8 billion, or .29 percent of GNI. This change is also stark in terms of the slice of the Australian budget spent on foreign aid compared to defense expenditures. 

An independent review of the integration in 2019 found that 90 percent of the Australian government’s strategic targets for the integration had been met, driving development allocations towards infrastructure and the Pacific. The review also found “examples of development goals being more strongly advanced through joined-up, whole-of-department efforts.” 

These initial efforts—such as the Pacific Seasonal Worker Scheme and the Australian Infrastructure Financing Facility for the Pacific—have since grown to enable more ambitious and innovative integrated development and strategic initiatives. Key among these are the Falepili Union with Tuvalu (which provides Australia with strategic denial rights and Tuvalu with climate resilience monies and opportunities for migration), the agreement between Australia and Papua New Guinea that encompasses development and security elements, and Telstra’s acquisition of Digicel Pacific, the largest mobile provider in the Pacific, with the Australian government’s support amid rumors of interest from China Mobile. While the review stepped carefully around the issue, it found integration had increased Australia’s ability to counter efforts to overshadow Australia’s influence, like China’s Belt and Road and Digital Silk Road initiatives.

However, the review also found several areas of concern. Early morale problems among staff arising from the abrupt way the integration was implemented had largely dissipated by 2019. However, a “pronounced deterioration in skills and systems” remained. The review found that “almost 1000 years of experience left [government service] shortly after integration.” Additionally, “estimates suggest another 1000 years of experience” left the department in the five years before 2019 due to the department underestimating the capability needed to design and deliver development programming. 

This loss of know-how continues to hamper effectiveness over a decade later. While development is now firmly accepted as a tool of statecraft, best wielded as part of a whole-of-government strategy, an article by the review’s author fifteen months ago suggests DFAT still has room to improve in terms of harnessing its development delivery to its full potential.

Strategic Prioritization: The UK

The merger between the UK’s Foreign and Commonwealth Office and the Department for International Development occurred in 2021. The principal intention behind the merger was to better align the UK’s development activities with its wider diplomatic, trade, and geopolitical interests, both in strategic terms and in terms of in-country representation. The merger coincided with a decision to reduce the UK’s development funding commitment from the .7 percent of GDP enshrined in law to .5 percent of GDP. Notably, the integration occurred while the UK was experiencing the economic slowdown of the COVID-19 Pandemic, which resulted in a double blow to funding in absolute terms, constituting a 30 percent reduction overall.

Alongside the budget reductions, a strategic prioritization of development initiatives was pursued, in which the UK focused on bilateral funding to a smaller group of countries where measurement of effect is often easier to determine, but at the expense of some wider bilateral and multilateral commitments which were deemed to deliver less tangible value to the UK. 

In addition, the UK identified a select set of issues for its development focus, namely, climate investments, girls’ education, and global health—where the UK had demonstrated expertise and where funding would have constructive spillover effects. For example, improving girls’ education is found to reap positive dividends for local security, prosperity, and governance. These initiatives, concentrated in Africa, the Indo-Pacific, and South Asia, are all areas in which the UK’s adversaries were harnessing development as an instrument of influence, dependence, and coercion. 

The UK’s National Audit Office (NAO) review of the progress of the merger in 2024 found positive evidence “of where a more integrated approach has improved the organisation’s ability to respond to international crises and events, which has led to a better result.” 

Two such examples were the UK’s coherent humanitarian, diplomatic, and military response as the leading European power supporting Ukraine after Russia’s invasion and the joint humanitarian and political response to the Ebola crisis in Uganda. The findings supported the rationale for the merger and the modernization of the department as fit-for-purpose in sharpening the UK’s geopolitical interests. However, the NAO also noted that “the indirect costs” of the merger, “in terms of disruption, diverted effort and the impact on staff morale should not be underestimated.” 

The NAO also reviewed the effect of the overseas development aid reduction and found that while the prioritization compelled in the government’s activities had some positive dividends, “the speed and scale of the budget reduction, and the lack of long-term planning certainty, increased some risks to value for money.” 

What Can The U.S. Learn?

These cautionary tales suggest some considerations for the Trump administration:

First, pace matters more than might be immediately apparent. While decisive action has its advantages, too rapid a transformation risks institutional damage that could take years to repair. Recipient partners need to be assured about the value of the relationship, as reputation matters when development partners have the luxury of choice. A phased integration that maintains critical expertise while gradually aligning strategic direction would likely prove more effective in the long term.

Second, capability preservation requires active management. Both Australia and the UK learned the hard way that development expertise isn’t quickly or easily replaced. The technical knowledge required for effective commissioning, procuring, financing, and managing of development programs, while not unique to the aid world, is distinct from traditional diplomatic and geostrategic policy skills. Any American reforms must include concrete plans for retaining and developing each of these specialized capabilities and empowering them to work together to deliver coherent whole-of-government priorities.

Third, funding stability enables strategic coherence and builds influence with partners. The UK’s experience shows that simultaneous organizational and budgetary upheaval can undermine even well-conceived reforms. While efficiency gains are desirable, treating integration primarily as a cost-cutting exercise risks strategic self-harm. With strategic competitors snapping at our heels, such interruptions cannot always be remedied.

Fourth, clear metrics for success must encompass traditional development indicators and strategic effects. Australia’s focus on its immediate neighborhood and Indo-Pacific infrastructure and the UK’s emphasis on areas of demonstrated expertise and reputational value offer useful models for linking foreign aid and development assistance to broader national interests.

The stakes for getting this change right are immense. China has outflanked the West in harnessing foreign aid as a strategic tool of statecraft, having learned from the experiences of Western development agencies. America cannot afford to unilaterally disarm in this arena and sacrifice its many areas of retained advantage through poorly executed reforms.

Secretary of State Marco Rubio’s framework of strength, safety, and prosperity provides useful guideposts. Development programs should demonstrably enhance American security partnerships, expand trade relationships that benefit American workers, or strengthen allies facing authoritarian pressure. Programs that cannot should be reconsidered.

Achieving these goals requires maintaining America’s development capabilities even as they are more tightly aligned with strategic objectives. The experiences of Australia and the UK suggest this balance is achievable but demands careful attention to ensure areas of national strength and influence are strengthened, not squandered.

‘Evil’ silence from Canberra on threat to national security

They say silence breeds contempt but the reticence of the Australian government about national security threats is more akin to the quote attributed to Dietrich Bonhoeffer when resisting Nazi Germany: that “silence in the face of evil is itself evil”.

The government is not responsible for individual violent incidents across our cities, but it is responsible for informing, reassuring and protecting the public. Yet the current malaise of leadership is feeding anxiety and infecting the social cohesion that has stood Australia apart from much of the world despite decades of global terrorism and conflict.

Australia remained united in the face of terrorist plots from al-Qa’ida, attacks by ISIS, wars in the Middle East and Afghanistan, the malicious rise of China, and Russia’s war in Europe. But we are cracking; rising anti-Semitism and national fear shows domestic division is even more insidious than international incidents.

The government’s systemic abdication of responsibility, cloaked in silence and evasive justifications, is not a one-off relating to the caravan plot against Australia’s Jewish community but a troubling trend, exemplified by the tactic of Prime Minister Anthony Albanese and ministers only commenting if asked by media and, even then, answering with non-statements.

Australians are not naive. We understand the need for operational secrecy in matters of national security and that classified intelligence should not be divulged lightly. But “operational details” cannot be a catch-all excuse to deflect legitimate scrutiny or hide truth.

Uncertainty breeds fear so governments must be on the front foot. Almost within the hour of Japan bombing Pearl Harbor, US president Franklin Roosevelt was instructing his press secretary to immediately inform the media. While not comparable events, the principle is key: keep the public informed and confident that its government is in control even in the most challenging times – even more important in the digital age.

Albanese’s refusal to address questions about the explosives-laden caravan, due to “ongoing investigations”, added to confusion, anxiety and speculation. A stonewalled public is not a secure one. Similarly, his reluctance to clarify whether he discussed China’s sonar pulse attack on Australian navy personnel in a meeting with Xi Jinping just days after the incident in November 2023, citing the confidentiality of diplomatic talks, simply resulted in doubt and more questions.

While discretion in diplomacy is essential, selective silence is inconsistent given the broad topics of leaders’ meetings, if not the exact words, are usually published, and suggested he just didn’t want to admit he had inexcusably failed to raise the matter.

Foreign Minister Penny Wong’s handling of the case of Yang Hengjun, the Australian arbitrarily detained in China, is equally disconcerting – failing to even acknowledge on January 19 Yang’s sixth year of detention, and previously insisting on being “constrained for privacy reasons”, despite Yang’s own desire for public advocacy. Hiding behind the veil of privacy appears less about protecting Yang’s interests and more about protecting the government’s.

This week marks one year since Beijing sentenced Yang to death so a comprehensive condemnation and demand for release is required. Similarly, Wong omitted to mention China in her readout of January’s discussions with US Secretary of State Marco Rubio, in contrast to Japanese Foreign Minister Takeshi Iwaya’s honesty that China was a central part of his meeting with Rubio.

Meanwhile, when asked about the US and European countries reviewing the security risk of Chinese-made smart cars, Energy Minister Chris Bowen said no such review would happen here as the priority was consumer choice. On that basis, we’d welcome Russian gas or perhaps Iranian nuclear know-how, not to mention that prioritising price now will mean consumers in the future will have few choices but Chinese-made smart cars.

The pattern of evading, ignoring or downplaying security threats is itself a security threat. It erodes public trust – and cynicism can quickly turn to conspiracy. It creates an information vacuum to be filled by conspiracy theories and speculation, leading not just to an uninformed but a misinformed public. And it has the potential to weaken Australia’s strategic position by reducing the confidence of our allies and increasing that of our rivals.

We’ve seen it before. The flood of illegal boats from 2008 and refusal to acknowledge pull factors created not only a backlash against illegal immigration but reduced confidence in legal immigration and emboldened criminal organisations. It was only by being upfront about the illegal immigration problem that confidence was restored in Australia’s strength as a migration nation.

Importantly, division is distinct from difference. Different opinions, including on world leaders or policies, are to be promoted as the basis of freedom of speech. But support for terrorist groups and acts of intimidation and violence are not free speech.

Our longstanding national resilience means the cracks can’t be papered over but can be resealed quickly by a government willing to lead, including with some good old-fashioned naked truth.

Image: © Thennicke 2016, Wikimedia Commons