The 2016 Defence White Paper describes a rules-based global order as a “fundamental strategic interest”.
This project, supported by the Department of Defence’s Strategic Policy Grants Program, aims to lead a national debate on the rules-based order and its implications for Australian security and defence. It will connect the legal, political, and historical debates about the nature of the global order with the practical realities of Australia’s strategic environment. It will address how the order can evolve to meet new technological challenges and modes of warfare, including grey zone operations.
The public aura around the decades-old “Five Eyes” intelligence sharing partnership between Australia, the US, UK, Canada, New Zealand has expanded rapidly since the name was first publicly acknowledged. In 2014, an Australian prime minister publicly referred to the “Five Eyes” for the first time. In 2016, the name first appeared in an Australian Defence White Paper. And in 2020, meetings between ministers from the five countries for, respectively, Defence, Foreign Affairs and Treasury, were first identified as “Five Eyes”.
That looks like a natural evolution. Intelligence sharing fosters trust and provides the participants with a common operating picture. That creates a solid foundation for collective action.
But labelling these meetings as “Five Eyes” is mistaken and possibly counterproductive. It unnecessarily limits their membership and risks blurring the critical distinction between intelligence and policy.
Intelligence sharing works when both sides can trust that information shared is raw and uninfluenced by policy preferences.
To be clear, members of the Five Eyes should keep coordinating policy. Ministers for Homeland Security and Immigration have been doing this through the “Five Country Ministerial” for several years. This cooperation can be especially beneficial when action depends on intelligence insights, for example when it comes to the attribution of malicious cyber behaviour.
But new international coalitions – aiming to balance China, defend the rules-based order and coordinate post Covid-19 economic and public health policies – should be as broad as possible. Describing groupings that have these goals as Five Eyes unnecessarily restricts their membership.
The Joint Australia-Canada-UK-US statement on Hong Kong was hailed by many commentators as auguring a new era for Five Eyes (despite New Zealand’s absence). The collective approach added weight. But it would have had much more weight with the addition of a non-Anglo ex-colony.
Periodic proposals to expand the Five Eyes – by adding countries such France, Japan, Germany or South Korea – are missing the point and engendering disappointment. Five Eyes countries need to share more intelligence with trusted partners. And according to some reports, larger groups have been formed for particular purposes. But seeking to graft new members onto the existing Five Eyes agreement is simply unrealistic.
Characterising policy summits as Five Eyes gatherings also risks blurring the policy-intelligence distinction. The objectivity that is essential to good intelligence can be compromised when intelligence agencies get involved in policy debate. That’s why the directors of the CIA and US National Intelligence don’t vote in US cabinet meetings. Australia’s 2017 Independent Intelligence Review reaffirmed that “the need for intelligence assessments to be independent of policy-making … remains an indispensable requirement”.
That separation of intelligence and policy is as important internationally as it is domestically. Intelligence sharing works when both sides can trust that information shared is raw and uninfluenced by policy preferences. It works best when the agencies sharing are seen to be policy-neutral and able to engage frankly.
While diplomatic meetings typically aim to find areas of agreement, intelligence meetings are just as often seeking disagreements. Disagreement produces better judgments. And separating analytic differences from policy disputes can better focus policy engagements.
Forging a common approach to a problem as complex as 5G technology has been extremely difficult. It would be even harder if the governments involved suspected that the technical and intelligence assessments they shared were being shaped by policy goals.
As a new consensus on China takes shape in capitals, the ability of Five Eyes intelligence agencies to speak truth to power – and if necessary, to challenge that consensus – will become ever more important. To compete effectively with China, countries such Australia need an objective and nuanced view of the threat, as well as frank assessments of the impact of Western policy choices – especially when those assessments don’t gel with policy of the day.
Putting 'negative globalism' talk aside, strategic shocks are forcing Canberra to think about an international system that can protect sovereignty and prevent great power conflict. Originally published in the Australian Financial Review.
Australia has entered the renewed diplomatic fray about China’s maritime claims in the South China Sea, clarifying, if not entirely resolving, Canberra’s previously vague legal position on the strategically important and contested waters.
The timing is significant, following the declaration last week by the United States, which branded China’s resource and jurisdictional claims across most of the South China Sea as “completely unlawful”. Washington also accused Beijing of bullying smaller Southeast Asian maritime nations and threw its support behind the 2016 South China Sea Arbitral Tribunal ruling that favoured the Philippines’ position. China was quick to accuse the US of exacerbating an already tense situation.
Australia’s language has been more circumspect, sticking closely to legal rather than behavioural issues. But it won’t be lost on China that Australia has chosen to make its own statement just ahead of next week’s AUSMIN meeting. In a note verbale dated 23 July, Australia’s mission to the United Nations clarified Canberra’s legal position, explicitly rejecting maritime claims by the People’s Republic of China (PRC) that Australia views as inconsistent with the 1982 United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS).
Australia has long advocated that maritime disputes should be resolved in accordance with international law. Following the 2016 ruling, Canberra had called for Beijing to respect the ruling and simultaneously amplified its rhetoric on the “rules-based global order”. Despite this, Australia had been somewhat vague in its legal stance on the South China Sea, avoiding a clear articulation of its position on the PRC’s specific South China Sea claims.
This note verbale goes some way in providing clarity. A key element is Australia has made explicit that it rejects the PRC’s claim to “historic rights” in the South China Sea in accordance with the 2016 Arbitral Tribunal ruling.
Australia’s alignment with the US puts it in the potentially awkward position of being more stridently opposed to the PRC’s claims than the maritime Southeast Asian states that have a direct stake in the disputes.
Yet Australia has also rejected PRC claims that were not tested in this arbitration. Since the ruling, PRC experts have relied upon other spurious legal justifications for its South China Sea claims beyond the use of its well-known “historic rights” within the nine-dash line argument. This includes the “Four Shas” (four sands) strategy, which attempts to make a legal case by constructing straight archipelagic baselines around the land features in the Pratas, Paracel, Spratly and Macclesfield Bank groups, claiming this amounts to part of China’s economic exclusion zone and continental shelf. Yet, China's position does not accord with the land/sea ratios set out in UNCLOS, hence Australia’s rejection of the Four Sha outlying archipelago claim, including “any claims to internal waters, territorial sea, exclusive economic zone and continental shelf based on such straight baselines”.
Australia also clarified that it does not view artificial islands as “islands” for the purposes of claiming maritime jurisdiction, a distinction made very clear in UNCLOS. Both the US and Australia have remained neutral on the issue of who owns the land features, preferring instead to focus on the maritime claims. Yet, Australia has pushed back against the PRC’s often bombastic and unequivocal claims that its sovereignty of land features is “widely recognised by the international community”.
Notably, like the US statement, Australia does not comment on the Arbitral Tribunal’s reasoning on how natural land features should be classified as islands, rocks, low-lying, or submerged elevations. This might be explained because both Australia and the US make economic exclusion zone claims on the back of land features that may not meet the Arbitral Tribunal’s threshold for classification as an island. Australia, for example, claims a 200 nautical mile economic exclusion zone around the isolated Heard and McDonald Islands in the southern Indian Ocean – over 4,000 kilometres south-west of Perth – described in one report as “rocky and desolate”.
Yet Australia’s advocacy in the South China Sea reflects another small win for international law and represents an evolution of its normative approach to the South China Sea. This approach has sought to defend maritime rules without further destabilising the region, putting naval vessels or personnel at risk or damaging trade relations with Beijing.
How the PRC will respond to this intervention will be fascinating to watch. The statement runs the risk that the PRC will punish Australia through economic coercion tactics, but this already appears to be a feature of Sino-Australian economic relations in 2020.
It was reported last week that an Australian Defence Force joint task group consisting of five warships had “unplanned interactions with foreign warships throughout the deployment [which] were conducted in a safe and professional manner”. This was rather sensationally reported in the media as a confrontation between Chinese navy and Australian warships in the South China Sea. Perhaps the more significant but less captivating story here was that the Australian fleet were joining American and Japanese counterparts in the Philippines Sea for joint training exercises in another sign of maritime cooperation among so-called “like-minded” states.
Australia’s warships were not in contested areas. Canberra has so far resisted calls from the US to participate in Freedom of Navigation Operations, or FONOPS, although it recognises the right to conduct them exists and has left open the possibility of conducting them in future. In Australian debates, however, FONOPs are very narrowly interpreted as transiting within 12 nautical miles of China’s artificial islands, in contrast to the variety of activities the US undertakes across the globe as part of its freedom of navigation program.
Part of the challenge for Australia has always been matching its rules-based rhetoric with its operational policy. Speaking loudly without a stick has seen Australia described as a “paper cat”. Australia’s alignment with the US puts it in the potentially awkward position of being more stridently opposed to the PRC’s claims than the maritime Southeast Asian states that have a direct stake in the disputes. A key question now is what Australia will be willing to do in its operations to defend the legal position it has articulated in this statement.
In the name of keeping the nation safe, Australia is joining the Asia-Pacific’s accelerating missile race. However, not only will it not keep the nation safe, it will stoke an uncontrolled fire that is engulfing the region’s strategic landscape. The wise response would be to throw everything at firefighting – at garnering international support for a formal arms-control dialogue, a missile moratorium and the creation of a new arms-control architecture to replace the now-defunct INF treaty, the lapsing of which has allowed this fire to spread.
To the contrary, the Morrison government is choosing to feed the flames. It’s the worst of all options – arguably even worse than doing nothing.
The government’s plans to acquire long-range missiles and other advanced weapons systems for use in high-intensity military conflicts were publicly revealed in the release of the 2020 Defence Strategic Update (DSU) on 1 July. The plan, which has received loud support from former Australian defence officials, is likely to involve the purchase of 200 long-range missiles from the United States and the longer-term development of Australia’s own advanced strike systems, potentially including hypersonic weapons. (Although it is not widely known, Australia is capable of developing the latter, following more than a decade of close hypersonics collaboration with the US.)
Three main justifications are given for spending billions of taxpayer dollars on implementing this new plan, at a time when the nation’s resources are stretched thin by the global pandemic.
Although the idea of using the Defence Strategic Update to create arms-control leverage is probably the most positive spin that can be put on an otherwise disturbing document, it is still problematic.
The first is that the pandemic itself has increased strategic uncertainty and made it necessary for Australia to become more self-reliant. While there may well be some truth in this, it smacks of a post-hoc rationalisation, given that discussion surrounding the DSU preceded the pandemic.
The second is that the weakening of the international rules-based order (which, until recently, Australia has energetically championed), makes it necessary for Australia to rely more heavily on military might. Again, this argument can’t be dismissed, because multilateralism is clearly under strain, but it is part of a distorted view, one that is becoming entrenched in defence policy circles in Canberra, that cooperative security is a peacenik fantasy and multilateral institutions are too broken to fix.
The third justification for throwing Australia into the region’s accelerating arms race is the most convincing: it’s being driven by fear over China’s rapidly expanding military capabilities – specifically its asymmetric development of INF-range missiles, and its successful hypersonic weapons, space and cyber warfare programmes. These capabilities, some of which have been acquired with Russia’s help, are understandably worrying to Australia’s defence decisionmakers, who feel increasingly exposed at a time when China’s strategic (over-) confidence is growing, and faith in US global leadership and alliance resolve is declining.
The Morrison government hopes by amassing long-range missiles and complex munitions of its own, Australia will be able to develop a strong, self-reliant deterrent capability, which will discourage military and non-military coercion by China, and provide a credible warfighting capability if deterrence fails.
Although responding to the China challenge in such a way might be reassuring to some, it is expensive and risky and could too easily backfire. As the DSU itself warns, although hypersonic weapons will make it possible to strike targets rapidly, accurately and lethally from afar, they also reduce decision times, make military miscalculation more likely and increase the consequences of strategic error. These characteristics, combined with the ambiguities inherent in dual-use missile deployments in the region’s nuclear possessor states (China, North Korea, Russia and the US), erode rather than reinforce the predictability on which stable deterrence is based, dramatically increasing strategic risks.
It is possible Canberra’s defence elite are hoping it won’t be necessary to implement some of the riskier elements of the DSU. Indeed, a fourth (unspoken) reason for announcing the plan could be to signal to Beijing that it is time to stop the current missile arms race and engage in serious arms-control dialogue. This would echo the debate that has been underway in the US for the past year, on whether deployment of US long-range missiles to the Asia-Pacificcould help bring China to the negotiating table to begin hammering out a missile arms control regime. Some US analysts and officials believe this tactic could succeed where efforts to engage China in trilateral negotiations over the extension of the 2010 New Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty (New START) have failed.
Although the idea of using the DSU to create arms-control leverage is probably the most positive spin that can be put on an otherwise disturbing document, it is still problematic. As a tactic, it could unintentionally reinforce the security dilemma and feed arms racing pressures, especially if no clear pathway to the negotiating table is elaborated.
Australia would do better to focus its attention on trying to help extinguish the fire that has already been lit, rather than adding to it. It could do so both by offering to host an Asia-Pacific arms-control dialogue and also by marshalling its diplomatic forces to encourage others to participate. Several proposals for discussions already exist, including some practical suggestions on how to engage China.