17 July | Jennifer Parker *Originally published in the Australian Financial Review on 17 July 2025 Australia should not sign a blank cheque for the military pact or pre-commit to hypothetical wars, but it is normal for allies to seek clarity on roles as the strategic outlook darkens. Image: Navy ships from Australia, Malaysia, New Zealand, Singapore and the United Kingdom sail in formation during Exercise BERSAMA SHIELD 2025. Defence Images. AUKUS has dominated headlines since its 2021 launch, and new leaks about the Trump administration “wanting more” have reignited anxieties. Australia should not concede to every US request, but quitting would be reckless. A capable navy, centred on nuclear-powered submarines, underwrites our security and economy. Former diplomat Peter Varghese may hanker for the pact’s demise , yet that view ignores the blunt military facts of defending an island continent. This is precisely the moment to steady the course on AUKUS, not abandon it. Rolling “crisis” headlines persist, yet a June poll by the Lowy Institute shows 67 per cent support. Unnamed leaks now claim Washington wants extra concessions. Canberra should never promise troops for a hypothetical Taiwan war, especially when Washington itself keeps strategic ambiguity. AUKUS matters, but not at any price. Varghese’s reaction typifies our national knee-jerk. We are spooked by anonymous leaks instead of asking who planted them, how credible they are, or what they really mean. They warrant discussion, not panic. Australia should not pay any price for AUKUS, nor pre-commit to war, but it is normal for allies to seek clarity on roles as the strategic outlook darkens. Whatever we think of Washington’s tariff antics, asking Canberra where it stands on regional security is hardly out of order. Remember, Article 4 of that 74-year-old treaty we signed states: “Each Party recognises that an armed attack in the Pacific Area on any of the Parties would be dangerous to its own peace and safety and declares that it would act to meet the common danger in accordance with its constitutional processes.” “We might bristle at Washington’s blunt tone, but its push for higher defence spending is really a call for greater Australian self-reliance.” One thing Varghese is right on is that Australia must become far more self-reliant. Our dependence on the United States is not the result of deliberate strategy but of decades of under-investment and delayed decisions that have hollowed out the Australian Defence Force, especially the navy. Since the Cold War, we have leaned on Washington more than either side would have wished. We might bristle at Washington’s blunt tone , but its push for higher defence spending is really a call for greater Australian self-reliance. They, and every serious Australian military planner and analyst, see that our capabilities lag behind our strategy: the fleet is ageing, missile and drone defences are thin, and the gap between ambition and means is widening. But Varghese is wrong to claim self-reliance means ditching AUKUS. In reality, AUKUS is the pathway to it. We rely on the United States well beyond the delivery of three Virginia-class submarines under AUKUS. Our fighter jets, missiles, torpedoes, destroyer combat systems, and secure satellite links all come from America. US leverage over Australia’s defence does not start or finish with nuclear-powered submarines; pretending otherwise misunderstands how our entire force is equipped. AUKUS is about equipping a maritime nation with the tools to protect its vital interests. If we move past today’s mostly self-inflicted turbulence, we will build the SSN-AUKUS fleet here, develop a sovereign submarine industry, and emerge less, not more, dependent on the United States. Varghese insists our security is found through “taking advantage of our continental geography”, yet he misreads what that geography means. It is both our shield and Achilles’ heel. Australia’s vast maritime estate About 99 per cent of Australia’s trade travels by sea. We are the world’s fifth-largest user of shipping. We import 91 per cent of our fuel, along with fertiliser to grow our crops and almost every high-tech device we use. None of it can be trucked across a land border; it must transit long, exposed sea lanes. In that sense, the maritime domain is Australia’s external life-support system. Protecting it is not optional, it is existential. Australia’s maritime domain, about 8.2 million square kilometres, actually exceeds its landmass. If we chose to defend only the land with missiles and drones, we would leave that vast sea space, and the lifelines it carries, exposed. Australia holds barely 50 days of refined fuel; a cut-off would paralyse transport. Within weeks, civilian flights would be grounded and our F-35 fighters stranded. The exports that bankroll both our economy and any war effort would dry up. True, much of that trade currently goes to China – $219 billion in 2023, or 32.5 per cent of all exports – but iron ore, coal, barley and beef can reach new buyers only if ships can sail. A strategy that ignores the maritime domain risks throttling Australia’s economy and its defence capability in the same stroke. Australia’s vast maritime estate demands a strong navy and a submarine capability with reach and staying power, qualities only nuclear-powered submarines provide. Off-the-shelf conventional boats simply lack the endurance; even our enlarged Collins class takes nine days to crawl submerged from Perth to Sydney, surfacing en route and risking detection. A nuclear-powered boat makes the trip in half the time and stays hidden throughout. In the toughest strategic climate since 1945, the women and men of the ADF deserve nothing less than the best tool for the job. True self-reliance, as Varghese urges, requires resilience, not knee-jerk panic over every leaked rumour. Australia should not sign a blank cheque for AUKUS or pre-commit to hypothetical wars, yet there is little evidence such demands are even on the table. Allies naturally want clarity on Canberra’s stance in potential contingencies. If we are serious about standing on our own feet, we must protect the sea lanes that keep the nation alive, and AUKUS, with its sovereign nuclear-powered submarine capability, is central to that task.

14 July 2025 | Jennifer Parker *Originally published in Lowy's Interpreter on 14 July 2025 Image: Deputy Prime Minister and Minister for Defence, the Hon Richard Marles MP, announced the establishment of a consolidated Commonwealth-owned Defence precinct at Western Australia’s Henderson Shipyard on 16 October 2024. Defence images. At an estimated $368 billion cost, a Pentagon review underway and talk of the United States seeking a guaranteed commitment in the event of conflict, Australia’s push for nuclear-powered submarines under AUKUS is never far from the headlines. But the idea that Canberra is hostage to American whim is off the mark and lacks self-awareness. Australia must consider how our AUKUS partners view us. Are our actions instilling confidence in this critical deal? Our real test is proving we can hold up our end: expedite infrastructure, build confidence and show allies and voters alike that Submarine Rotational Force-West (SRF-West) will be ready in 2027, less than two years away. Since the AUKUS announcement in September 2021, significant progress has been made. Within 18 months, the three partners agreed on an optimal pathway and concluded a binding treaty , no small feat. Training is well underway, with Australian submariners reportedly progressing through the US system, and Australian shipbuilders working at Pearl Harbor to build the skills needed to maintain and eventually construct nuclear-powered submarines at home. And perhaps most remarkably, despite persistent headlines of doubt, the latest Lowy Institute Poll shows more Australians support the acquisition of nuclear-powered submarines than oppose it, a striking shift for a country long defined by its anti-nuclear stance. Yet for all this progress, a looming infrastructure crunch threatens to derail momentum. The Australian government must now lean in, decisively, to ensure the foundations are in place to sustain what has been achieved. Australia’s patchy performance on naval infrastructure, shipbuilding and sustainment has bred a reputation for delay and indecision. Worries are growing in Canberra, and Washington, that upgrades at HMAS Stirling and the new Henderson defence precinct are drifting off-schedule. Addressing the Lowy Institute, CSIS president John Hamre warned that many in Washington feel “the Albanese government supports AUKUS but isn’t really leaning in”, a perception he said is “more widely felt … than people realise”. Days later, former US Navy secretary and current Austal chair Richard Spencer drove the point home highlighting that policy alone won’t build submarines: “it has to move from politics to military to construction,” Spencer said. “We need to start moving dirt”. These worries are hard to verify because Canberra still hasn’t published a real schedule for HMAS Stirling or the new Henderson precinct. The December 2024 Naval Shipbuilding and Sustainment Plan and the March 2025 AUKUS Submarine Industry Strategy trumpet job numbers but stay silent on real infrastructure deliverables. Even the Parliamentary Standing Committee on Public Works , which examined the Stirling upgrade in June 2024, seems to only address the scope. Publicly available detail on Stirling timelines amounts to a single line: “major construction is expected to start in 2025”. With no dated milestones, assurances that we are “ investing in both sites ” look aspirational, and the perception gap widens. With no published timelines, even loyal supporters are left wondering whether Canberra can meet its AUKUS obligations, first hosting SRF-West, then taking delivery of an Australian-flagged Virginia-class boat in 2032. Our credibility problem is hardly new: the public and industry still recall years of slipped schedules and blown budgets in naval shipbuilding and infrastructure. The 2020 Force Structure Plan flagged the need for a second dry-dock in Western Australia, an urgency only amplified by AUKUS, yet five years and two governments later we still lack a start date. Dry-docks are neither cheap nor quick to build, but they are essential if we hope to maintain nuclear-powered submarines on home soil. Meanwhile the promised east-coast submarine base has vanished from the agenda. Although not critical to the AUKUS pathway, submarine access to both the Indian and Pacific Oceans is central to any credible Australian maritime strategy. Shipbuilding and sustainment are hardly healthier. Both Australian Navy replenishment ships have been idle since 2024 with engine and shaft failures, and an ANAO audit says the landing helicopter docks suffer “ongoing deficiencies” and “critical failures” thanks to poor contract management. The first 1,640-tonne Arafura offshore-patrol vessel took three-and-a-half years to move from launch (December 2021) to commissioning (June 2025), an extraordinary pause for such a simple platform. Steel for the Hunter-class frigates was cut in 2024, yet the lead ship is not due until 2032 because Canberra will not expedite the program. Meanwhile the Collins-class submarine life-of-type extension looks increasingly unlikely to proceed as originally scoped , if it proceeds at all. Every shortfall has its own back-story, too complex to detail in this space, but the record is clear: our patchy performance on naval infrastructure, shipbuilding and sustainment has bred a reputation for delay and indecision. Rather than continually seeking reassurance that Washington and London will meet their AUKUS commitments, Canberra should confront the tougher question: do we inspire confidence, or are we becoming the weak link in the trilateral partnership? The government’s refusal to lift defence spending , insisting we are “doing enough” despite allied doubts, erodes the very confidence we need to build. Any military planner can see the ADF’s ambitions are kneecapped by a budget that falls well short of our stated strategy. Much has been achieved since AUKUS was unveiled , but we are now on the critical path: without timely upgrades at HMAS Stirling and Henderson, the first phase stalls. From the outside it is impossible to judge progress, and partners are openly sceptical, hardly surprising given Australia’s patchy record on recent naval projects. Repeating that we are “doing enough” no longer cuts it. If Canberra wants to shore up confidence, it should publish a detailed schedule for the Stirling and Henderson works. Transparency, not talking points, will keep AUKUS on track.

4 July 2025 | Jennifer Parker *Originally published in the Sydney Morning Herald on 4 July 2025 Image: Chinese Ministry of National Defense graphic of Joint Sword 2024-B. MND Image (From USNI https://news.usni.org/2024/10/14/china-targets-taiwan-in-major-military-exercise-pentagon-condemns-irresponsible-action ) Prime  Minister  Anthony Albanese’s second visit to China – pencilled in for this month – will come weeks before the People’s Liberation Army’s 98th  anniversary on August  1, 2025, a date laden with symbolism as Beijing approaches the military modernisation milestone of its centenary in 2027. Since 2021, US military and intelligence officials have warned that 2027 marks another key milestone: the date that Xi Jinping has instructed his military to have the capability to invade Taiwan. It was a point reinforced by US Defence Secretary Pete Hegseth at the Shangri-La defence conference in Singapore in June. And it is a warning the Australian  prime  minister will have in the back of his mind: China is both a critical economic partner and an escalating security threat. If the People’s Republic of China chooses to take Taiwan by force, it will not be a straightforward island invasion but one that is likely to lead to a wide-raging Indo-Pacific conflict with significant implications for Australia. Xi’s PRC views Taiwan as a “a sacred and inseparable part of China’s territory”. China’s PLA has become one of the planet’s most capable forces – with a growing nuclear arsenal, the world’s largest standing army and navy, and a sophisticated rocket force. This rapid growth in military strength, which some could equate with China’s growing economic and security weight globally as a superpower, has been coupled with a sharp deterioration in relations between Taiwan and the PRC. China has suspended official communications and restricted tourism. China has also ramped up its military operations in and around Taiwan. Following then US speaker Nancy Pelosi’s visit to Taiwan in August 2022, China launched its largest ever military exercises in the area, including ballistic missiles flying over Taiwan. These coercive demonstrations, paired with increasingly hostile rhetoric, have now become the norm. Last year, China’s military published a simulated graphic of missiles hitting Taiwan. At the Shangri-La dialogue that same year, China’s current Defence Minister, Admiral Dong Jun, said Taiwan’s ruling Democratic Progressive Party will be “nailed to the pillar of shame in history” and that “anyone who dares separate Taiwan from China will only end up in self-destruction”. It is within this context that Hegseth, at the Shangri-La dialogue, referred to the threat from China as “imminent”. My recent trips to Taiwan indicate there is mixed sentiment in the security community as to the likelihood of a Chinese military invasion. In late 2023, then Democratic Progressive Party president Tsai Ing-wen said China’s current economic and political challenges would probably hold it back from attempting an invasion in the near term. In May this year, however, Taiwan’s current president – while generally reticent to talk on the prospects of an invasion – compared Taiwan’s present plight with 1930s Europe. A September 2024 poll of 1200 Taiwanese people conducted by the country’s Institute for National Security and Defence Research showed that, while most saw China’s “territorial ambitions as a serious threat”, they did not think this was likely to manifest in an attack on Taiwan. This view is perhaps understandable. Taiwan’s geography, shallow coastal waters, mountainous terrain and limited invasion windows due to weather make any military assault a monumental task. Such a challenge that the US abandoned plans to invade Taiwan during World War II under Operation Causeway. However, despite the challenges, China is clearly preparing its military and economy for the possibility of invading Taiwan. Over the past year, it has stockpiled key resources – grain, oil, cobalt, copper and iron ore – and focused on enhancing amphibious capabilities, including barges with bridge-like structures suited to Taiwan’s shallow beaches. Amid intensified drills and sharper rhetoric, these preparations suggest invasion remains a real possibility – and may be growing more plausible. A major flaw in Australia’s Taiwan debate is the simplistic “will we or won’t we intervene?” framing, which assumes any conflict would be confined to Taiwan. In reality, an invasion would be far more complex. The Taiwan Strait’s geography, weather and Taiwan’s defences already make it a formidable task. That challenge is amplified by expected US and Japanese intervention from bases in Japan and the Philippines, forces China would try to neutralise pre-emptively. Any invasion would almost certainly immediately trigger a broader regional conflict involving one of Australia’s key allies and at least two of its closest security partners. In a region-wide conflict, Australia’s national security interests would be jeopardised, and it would have little choice but to respond. Its key role would be defending Australia and its sea lines of communication. Even without current US military rotations or Australia’s role as a strategic location for American operations, staying on the sidelines would be inconsistent with our national interests. Australia’s security, including maritime trade, would be directly threatened. Not to mention Australia’s obligations under the 1951 ANZUS Treaty. It would also seriously damage Australia’s credibility with key security partners and regional neighbours. Moreover, if China resorts to force against Taiwan, it is unlikely to stop there. Beijing is also engaged in maritime and territorial disputes with South-East Asian states and South Korea and Japan. A successful invasion would embolden further aggression. A Chinese invasion of Taiwan would not be an isolated act – it would trigger a regional conflict with direct consequences for Australia’s security. An invasion may not be imminent or inevitable, but China’s clear preparations demand serious attention. Australia must invest in its own defence – not because war is certain, but because deterrence depends on capability. And if deterrence fails, we must be ready to defend our vital interests.

27 June 25 | Jennifer Parker *Originally published in the Conversation on 27 June 2025. Image: Deputy Prime Minister and Minister for Defence, the Hon Richard Marles MP, meets with Minister of National Defence of Canada David McGuinty at the 2025 NATO Leaders’ Summit. (Defence Images) After lobbying by US President Donald Trump, NATO leaders have promised to boost annual defence spending to 5% of their countries’ gross domestic product (GDP) by 2035. A NATO statement released this week said: United in the face of profound security threats and challenges, in particular the long-term threat posed by Russia to Euro-Atlantic security and the persistent threat of terrorism, allies commit to invest 5% of GDP annually on core defence requirements as well as defence-and security-related spending by 2035. This development comes at a tricky time for the Albanese government. It has so far batted away suggestions Australia should increase its defence spending from current levels of around 2% of gross domestic product (GDP), or almost A$59 billion per year (and projected to reach 2.33% of GDP by 2033–34). Trump has called on Australia to increase this to about 3.5%. With this NATO agreement, global security deteriorating and defence capability gaps obvious, pressure is mounting on the Australian government to increase defence spending further. Pressure from Trump A long‑time critic of NATO, Trump and his key officials have castigated NATO’s readiness and spending. Meanwhile, Russia’s war on Ukraine, now in its fourth year, and a spate of suspected Russian sabotage across Europe have sharpened concerns about allied preparedness. Against this backdrop, the NATO summit saw Trump publicly reaffirms US commitment to the alliance, and European members pledged to lift defence spending. What exactly did NATO promise and why? The headlines say NATO members agreed to increase annual defence spending to 5% of GDP by 2035. In fact, the actual agreement is more nuanced. The summit communique , notably shorter than in previous years, broke the pledge down into two parts. The first is 3.5% of GDP on what is considered traditional defence spending: ships, tanks, bullets, people and so on. The second part – the remaining 1.5% of GDP – is to protect our critical infrastructure, defend our networks, ensure our civil preparedness and resilience, unleash innovation, and strengthen our defence industrial base. Exactly what strategic resilience initiatives this money will be spent on is up to the individual member nation. It might be tempting to paint NATO’s commitment to increased defence spending as evidence of European NATO partners bowing to US political pressure. But it’s more than that. It is a direct response to the increased threat posed by Russia to Europe, and perhaps an insurance policy against any doubts European NATO partners may have about the US reliability and enduring commitment to the 76-year-old alliance between the US and Europe. However, not all countries are keen on the defence spending commitment, with notable reservations from Spain and Belgium . These two countries are yet to meet NATO’s 2014 commitment to spend 2% of GDP on defence. What’s all this mean for Australia? The commitment to hike NATO defence spending will have an indirect impact on Australia’s own beleaguered defence spending debate. As mentioned, Australia’s main strategic ally – the US – has pressured Australia to hike defence spending to 3.5% of GDP, up from around 2.02% of GDP this financial year (which the government projects will reach 2.33% by 2033–34). Australia is not the only Indo-Pacific partner being pushed to spend more on defence. Japan is too. This is consistent with US Defence Secretary Pete Hegseth’s Shangri-La speech in May, when he urged Asian allies to step up on defence spending , pointing to Europe as the model. The NATO announcement will likely embolden the US to apply greater pressure on the Australia to increase defence spending. Trump’s strategy towards NATO has clearly been to sow ambiguity in the minds of European countries as to the US’ commitment to NATO, to get them to come to the table on defence spending. This may well be a future Australia faces, too. It could mean a bumpy road ahead for Australia and its most crucial alliance partner. Where to from here? Prime Minister Anthony Albanese has said Australia will determine its own level of defence spending, and that arbitrary GDP limits are unhelpful. Defence spending, he argues , should be based on capability needs, not demands from allies. And he is right, to a point. That said, allies have a right to have an expectation all parties in the alliance are holding up their end of the bargain. Australian defence spending should be based on the capabilities it needs to resource its stated defence strategy and defend its core interests. Currently, in my view, Australia’s defence capability does not match its current strategy. There are clear gaps in Australia’s defence capabilities, including: its aged naval capability a lack of mine warfare, replenishment and survey capabilities a limited ability to protect critical infrastructure against missile attack space capabilities. These are key risks, at the moment of possibly most significant strategic circumstances since the second world war. In the event of a major crisis or conflict in the region, Australia would not presently be able to defend itself for a prolonged period. To address this requires structural reform and defence investment. In response to this week’s NATO announcement, Defence Minister Richard Marles said : We have gone about the business of not chasing a number, but thinking about what is our capability need, and then resourcing it. During the election campaign both the prime minister and defence minister left the door open to increasing defence spending. The real unknown is how long it will take to make it happen, and how much damage it may do in the meantime to Australia’s relationship with the US and overall defence-preparedness.

25 June 25 | Jennifer Parker *Originally published in the Sydney Morning Herald on 24 June 2025 Image: Strait of Hormuz. Google Maps In the wake of the US strikes on Iran, focus has shifted to how Tehran will respond. Its options range from direct attacks on US bases to exerting pressure on maritime trade through the Strait of Hormuz. The Iranian parliament’s reported vote to blockade the strait offers a possible clue. Can Iran realistically close this chokepoint, and what would that mean for Australia? Wedged between Iran and Oman, the Strait of Hormuz is the only maritime gateway to the oil-rich Persian Gulf, carrying about a quarter of the world’s crude exports . Iran’s control of the northern shore has long fuelled fears it could shut the strait in retaliation to an attack. The threat is hardly notional: Tehran has used shipping harassment for leverage before, including during the 1980s “Tanker Wars” with Iraq. After Trump quit the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action nuclear deal in 2018 and launched its “maximum-pressure” campaign, Tehran again turned to commercial shipping. In May 2019, four tankers were attacked with limpet mines in the Gulf of Oman, almost certainly by Iran. Two months later, Iran’s Revolutionary Guards (IRGC) seized the UK-flagged tanker Stena Impero in the Strait of Hormuz and briefly detained the Liberian-flagged Mesdar . Those incidents opened a two-year stretch of Iranian harassment of civilian and naval traffic in the world’s busiest oil chokepoint. After Iran’s 2019 attacks on commercial shipping, Washington set up the International Maritime Security Construct to protect shipping, with Australia among its founding members. The strait’s security is critical to Australia’s economy, which is why Canberra sent a warship and personnel, including me, to help keep it open. Long before Iran’s April 2024 missile barrage on Israel, the two rivals were already skirmishing at sea. In March 2021, an Israeli-owned freighter was hit by what was almost certainly an Iranian missile in the Arabian Sea. A month later, limpet mines widely blamed on Israel crippled the Iranian-flagged MV Saviz in the Red Sea, a vessel believed to serve as an IRGC forward base. These incidents show how the proxy war spills into maritime space and how Tehran uses strikes on merchant shipping for strategic signalling. Iran views its grip on the Strait of Hormuz as its trump card and has repeatedly harassed and attacked commercial and military vessels transiting the strait to make a political point. It is therefore no surprise that the Iranian parliament has reportedly approved a motion to blockade the waterway. Whether Tehran can, or will, carry it out is another question. Naval blockades are back in vogue: Russia’s bid to choke Ukraine’s grain exports in the Black Sea, Houthi claims of blockading the Red Sea to Israel-linked ships, and fears that Beijing might apply a naval blockade to ring-fence Taiwan all show how coercion at sea is reshaping security debates. Naval blockades are lawful under the law of armed conflict, but only if they meet strict tests: they must be formally declared and notified, enforced impartially and effectively, and limited to stopping enemy commerce or contraband. Crucially, a blockade cannot starve civilian populations or seal off neutral ports. An Iranian blockade of the Strait of Hormuz would choke access to neutral gulf ports without targeting contraband or enemy vessels – neither the United States nor Israel is based inside the gulf, Bahrain’s US naval facility notwithstanding. Because it would indiscriminately impede neutral trade, such a move would fall outside the legal limits of naval blockade, despite the Iranian Parliament’s reported approval. Even if an outright blockade breached international law, Tehran could still attempt to close the strait. Its conventional navy is ageing and limited, but the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps Navy fields swarms of fast-attack craft, anti-ship missiles, drones and mines – an asymmetric mix designed for narrow-water choke-points. Iran would not even have to act decisively: a simple claim that it had laid mines could divert commercial traffic until US-led forces proved the channel clear, a process that could take weeks. Despite years of rhetoric, Tehran is unlikely to close the strait. Its strategic partnership with Beijing is a brake: China is the world’s largest crude importer, and roughly half of its oil arrives via gulf producers transiting the strait. Crippling that flow would undercut a key supporter and damage Iran’s own diplomatic gains with Beijing. China is hardly alone in its dependence on Strait of Hormuz oil. A closure would jolt the global economy and bite Australia in particular. Despite the 8000-kilometre distance, most of Australia’s crude arrives via this chokepoint, and the nation imports about 91 per cent of its fuel. Most of Australia’s petrol, diesel and jet fuel arrives as finished product from refineries in Singapore, South Korea and Japan, but those refineries source much of their crude from the Middle East via the Strait of Hormuz. Any prolonged disruption there would therefore ripple straight down Australia’s supply chain. The risk is magnified by Canberra’s chronic shortfall against the International Energy Agency’s 90-day stockpile obligation: as of March 2025, Australia held barely 56 days of fuel in reserve. Australia’s 1990-2020 naval deployment to the Middle East was never mere alliance diplomacy; it safeguarded the long sea lines that bring fuel to Australia. That dependence remains, yet decades of under-investment leave the Royal Australian Navy with only 10 surface combatants until the 2030s – several in refit – hardly able to assist in breaking an Iranian blockade today if Washington came calling. Despite the Iranian parliament’s vote to “blockade” the Strait of Hormuz, Tehran is unlikely to follow through. Shutting the waterway would penalise neutral gulf ports and anger China – its most important economic partner and a veto-wielding UN Security Council member. Even so, experience shows any escalation will spill into the maritime domain. For Australia, the message is clear: rebuild strategic fuel stocks to meet International Energy Agency obligations and strengthen supply-chain resilience; and, as an island nation reliant on vulnerable sea-lines of communication, invest now in a navy capable of keeping them open.

22 June 2025 | Jennifer Parker *Originally published in the Australian 22 June 2025 Image: US State Department. US press conference following Operation Midnight Hammer. The US strike on three Iranian nuclear facilities has ended 10 days of uncertainty and signalled a shift in the Middle East’s strategic dynamic. While Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has tempered his rhetoric on regime change , Iran is likely to respond, and what follows remains unclear. How Iran responds will depend heavily on the capability it has left. In recent weeks, Israel hasn’t just targeted nuclear and energy infrastructure, but struck weapons facilities, missile launchers and air defence systems. Meanwhile, Iran has spent two years exporting drones to Russia, further straining its own stockpiles. Analysts doubt the effectiveness of Iran’s missile arsenal, with many suggesting a large number either failed to launch or fell short of their targets. Iran has several avenues for retaliation, each carrying different risks. Striking US bases in the Middle East, such as the Fifth Fleet headquarters in Bahrain, or targeting Gulf States seen as softer options would be at the extreme end of the spectrum and almost certainly draw in more regional and global actors. Such a move would likely undermine what must now be Iran’s top priority: regime survival. More limited responses, such as attacks on US facilities in Iraq or Syria, would follow familiar patterns of Iranian behaviour. An escalation into the maritime domain is plausible. In 2019, for example, Iran targeted commercial shipping in the Gulf in response to the US withdrawal from the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action under President Trump and increased sanctions, a tactic it has used repeatedly since the 1979 revolution. Any disruption to traffic through the Strait of Hormuz – through which nearly 30 per cent of the world’s oil flows – or a long-threatened closure by Iran would have direct consequences for Australia. As a country that imports 91 per cent of its fuel, much of it refined from Middle Eastern crude, Australia remains highly exposed to trade interruptions. Despite this, Australia holds less than the IEA’s mandated 90-day fuel reserve, just 56 days as of March 2025. It’s why the Royal Australian Navy spent nearly 30 years contributing to coalition maritime security operations in the region. Beyond the implications for Australia’s fuel security, the US strikes on Iran carry another significant consequence for the Indo-Pacific: the message they send to China about American resolve. While some analysts have expressed concern that renewed US engagement in the Middle East could distract from its primary theatre, the Indo-Pacific, particularly as ships, missile batteries, and aircraft are redeployed, the strikes may also help re-establish US deterrence. As Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth reaffirmed, the Indo-Pacific remains the United States’ strategic priority. As many have noted throughout Russia’s war in Ukraine, what happens in one region directly shapes the strategic environment in another, particularly in the Indo-Pacific. How China assesses its prospects for taking Taiwan, or advancing other territorial claims, is influenced by the global response to aggression elsewhere. While international statements of support for Ukraine were strong, the actual flow of weapons was often slow and constrained. Until late 2024, the US and others placed significant restrictions on Ukraine’s ability to strike targets inside Russia and ruled out escalatory steps like a no-fly zone. That limited resolve, despite Ukraine’s determination, emboldened Putin and likely China. Since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022, supported economically and technologically by China, Beijing has grown increasingly emboldened in the Indo-Pacific. This has been evident in more aggressive joint military exercises simulating the encirclement of Taiwan, accompanied by propaganda depicting missile strikes on the island. In the South China Sea, China’s coercive behaviour has escalated, including the ramming and water-cannoning of Philippine vessels operating within the Philippines’ Exclusive Economic Zone. Chinese forces have also increasingly conducted unsafe and unprofessional intercepts of military aircraft and ships, including those from Australia. However they are ultimately judged, the US strikes on Iran go some way toward re-establishing deterrence in the Indo-Pacific. Just as the muted international response to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine likely emboldened China, this action sends a clearer message: there are limits. Despite concerns about the current administration’s policies on NATO, Ukraine, and tariffs, the United States is not retreating into isolationism. Where its national interests are threatened, as in the case of Iran’s pursuit of nuclear weapons, the US is still willing to act, particularly in support of its allies. The re-establishment of deterrence in the Indo-Pacific, a key priority reaffirmed by Secretary Hegseth at the recent Shangri-La Dialogue, is likely reinforced by the US strikes on Iran. But Australia must also play its part. One clear warning from the current Middle East conflict is that the world is changing: states are increasingly turning to military force to advance national objectives. If Australia is to contribute to regional deterrence and, if necessary, respond to protect its national interests, it must go beyond rhetoric. That means addressing our strategic resilience, starting with fuel stockpiles, and rapidly lifting defence spending and capability to meet the demands of this more dangerous era.

13 June 2025 | Jennifer Parker *Originally published in the Sydney Morning Herald on 12 June 2025 Image: Deputy Prime Minister and Minister for Defence, the Hon Richard Marles MP, meets with United States Secretary of Defense, Pete Hegseth, at the 22nd Shangri-La Dialogue in Singapore from 30 May to 1 June 2025. Defence Images News that the US Department of Defence has launched an AUKUS review has Canberra’s defence circles in overdrive, with familiar critics already proclaiming the pact is “sinking” . Yet this outbreak of anxiety poses a bigger danger than the review itself. Washington’s routine stocktake changes nothing fundamental: the risks are unchanged and the safeguards Australia has put in place remain fit for purpose. Although the Pentagon has yet to confirm the review, reputable reporting – and Canberra’s evident lack of surprise – makes its existence clear. Commentators have blamed everything from tariff spats to Australia’s sanctions on Israeli ministers and Washington’s call for higher defence spending. Far likelier, the new Trump administration has folded AUKUS into its accelerated National Defence Strategy rewrite , scheduled for release in August – the first since the partnership’s AUKUS “optimal pathway” was outlined in 2023. Notably, the US Under Secretary of Defence for Policy, Elbridge Colby, is steering both the AUKUS review and the National Defence Strategy rewrite. Australia’s Defence Minister, Richard Marles, has indicated publicly that he has known of it for weeks – US Defence Secretary Pete Hegseth likely told him during the Shangri-La dialogue. The leak itself appears timed to squeeze Canberra ahead of a likely G7 meeting between Donald Trump and Anthony Albanese, following Australia’s public refusal to lift defence spending simply because Washington asked. Despite domination of the AUKUS discussion, the review heralds no fundamental shift for AUKUS. Defence projects are never “run-of-the-mill”, and this, Australia’s most ambitious and expensive, carries a significant degree of risk. Risk that requires vigilance rather than complacency. Even so, the partnership’s underlying risk profile remains unchanged. The challenges of workforce, timeframes and the low US submarine production rate remain the same as they were when the deal was announced in 2021 and Australia’s nuclear-powered submarine “optimal pathway” was agreed in 2023. So, what will the review likely conclude? Congress already locked the key AUKUS provisions into law via the 2023 National Defence Authorisation Act , and bipartisan backing remains solid. Senior officials keep reinforcing that support: Secretary of State Marco Rubio calls AUKUS a “blueprint” for allied co-operation; Hegseth says the president is “fully behind it”. Even Elbridge Colby – now leading the review – told Congress in March: “We should do everything possible to make this work.”  Despite the glaring absence of AUKUS in Hegseth’s Shangri-La speech , the political framing, in short, is favourable. Why wouldn’t the review be favourable? AUKUS delivers plenty for Washington. Australia is injecting $5 billion into America’s submarine yards and will host US boats for maintenance, cutting transit and refit times. Beyond the deal itself, Canberra has deepened force-posture support : rotating marines through Darwin, rotating US bombers and expanding logistics hubs. All this sits atop Australia’s indispensable intelligence and communications infrastructure – Pine Gap and the Harold E. Holt station – that lets the US talk to its nuclear-powered submarines across the Indo-Pacific. The benefits, for America, only multiply from there. Australia sits at the core of America’s ability to respond to any China-related crisis in the Indo-Pacific – and preparing for that contingency is reportedly a pillar of the US interim National Defence Strategy. It was front and centre in Hegseth’s Shangri-La speech, in which he warned of an “imminent” regional threat from Beijing. Across South-East and North-East Asia, Australia is viewed as Washington’s closest ally. If the US back-pedalled on – or seriously weakened – AUKUS, regional capitals would notice immediately, eroding US credibility and its strategy aimed at deterring China. None of this suggests AUKUS is risk-free, or that the review couldn’t tweak key details – but a wholesale rewrite remains improbable. Australia’s response will depend on what, if anything, changes. The real danger is any delay – or cancellation – of the promised Virginia-class boats. The Collins fleet, commissioned between 1993 and 2003, is already living on extensions ; even on today’s timeline, we face a submarine gap, and slippage on the Virginias would stretch it wider. Those boats are the “walk” step before the joint SSN-AUKUS build of the nuclear-powered attack submarines with Britain: losing them would be painful, but still manageable with the right mitigations. Calls for a “plan B” overlook a blunt reality: AUKUS is already Plan C. Decades of delays and changes on ship and submarine replacements put us in this bind, and no credible Plan D can now prevent a capability gap. Bottom line: a Pentagon review of AUKUS is routine, not a harbinger of collapse. AUKUS has already survived changes of government in Canberra and London; it will survive this too. The pact is complex and risky, but Washington stands to gain too much to abandon it, and early signals from the new administration remain positive. Australia will have to lift defence spending – always inevitable, now simply said aloud. AUKUS isn’t “sinking”; the real danger is Australia losing its nerve. Stay the course, absorb the bumps, and the capability will follow.

29 May 25 | Jennifer Parker *Originally published in Lowy's The Interpreter on 29 May 25 The naval relationship between the two nations has plateaued, but there’s a way to regain momentum. Image : Republic of Korea Navy destroyer ROKS Wang Geon prepares to come alongside Fleet Base East in Sydney for a port visit ahead of Exercise PACIFIC VANGUARD 2021. (Defence Imagery) When HMAS  Toowoomba manoeuvred alongside ROKS Gang Gam-chan during Exercise Haidoli Wallaby in November 2023, the image crystallised a decade of quiet progress in Australia-Republic of Korea (ROK) naval relations. Ship visits are now routine and the biennial foreign and defence minister’s 2 + 2 dialogue nominates maritime security as a top priority. Yet despite being well-placed to achieve greater interoperability , especially technical interoperability (that is, the ability of hardware and software systems to communicate and work together), the naval relationship has in some ways plateaued.  The establishment of a working group on naval interoperability could help address this, and reap the benefits of parallel naval modernisation efforts and increasing strategic alignment. A decade ago, the RAN’s relationships with both the ROKN and Japan’s Maritime Self-Defence Force (JMSDF) stood at roughly the same embryonic stage; each featured only a handful of bilateral exercises and broad aspirations for closer ties. Since then, a commitment to interoperability has propelled the RAN–JMSDF partnership far ahead, generating frequent joint exercises and increasing operational and technical familiarity. But progress with the ROKN has largely plateaued. Three factors make deeper Australia–ROK naval integration pressing. First, both governments now frame maritime security as existential. ROK’s 2023 National Security Strategy elevates the safeguarding of sea-lines of communication (Korea's primary maritime routes used for trade, logistics, and naval operations) to equal footing with deterring North Korea. Meanwhile, Australia’s 2024 National Defence Strategy re-oriented the Australian Defence Force towards a maritime posture.  The Australia–South Korea naval partnership is important to each country’s broader Indo-Pacific objectives. To offer a genuine capability edge, it needs a naval interoperability framework. Second, each navy is modernising at pace. The ROKN’s Navy Vision 2045 promises Aegis destroyers , uncrewed vehicle command ships and an artificial-intelligence-enabled “ Smart Fleet ”. The RAN is preparing to operate Virginia-class nuclear-powered submarines under AUKUS , expand its surface combatant force and restore continuous shipbuilding .  Third, almost every tonne of Korean and Australian trade transits the increasingly contested maritime domain. Any severe interruption to maritime trade would jolt both economies within days. Rising ROKN–RAN activity over the last decade has lifted procedural, human and informational interoperability from its embryonic stages. This has occurred through the anti-submarine exercise Exercise Haidoli Wallaby, joint participation in the Pacific Vanguard integrated air-and-missile-defence exercise, and the Talisman Sabre series. These activities are supported by Memoranda of Understanding (MoUs) on both science and technology , and logistics . All of this is complemented by the 2023 signing of an MoU between the RAN and ROKN .  The bilateral naval relationship should be generating much greater strategic value. However, a targeted approach could deliver quicker, more concrete gains in interoperability. Procedural, human and informational links have advanced, but technical interoperability still lags, an area ripe for both navies to exploit. With both South Korea and Australia now prioritising continuous shipbuilding and the defence of sea lanes, the bilateral naval relationship should be generating much greater strategic value. The two fleets already share baseline capabilities. Each fields US-derived combat-systems – that is, the ship’s “brain” that integrates sensor data with its weapons systems. Aegis combat systems operate on both Korean destroyers and Australia’s Hobart class. Upcoming fleet expansions present a rare opportunity to “design in” further technical interoperability. Bridging the gap means treating interoperability as a strategic objective of the two navies, not just a by-product of goodwill. The establishment of a RAN-ROKN working group resourced to develop and maintain an interoperability roadmap and reporting biennially to ministers would generate a more structured pathway to interoperability between the two navies.  Capability development should be another priority. South Korea's robotics prowess and Australia's emphasis on undersea capabilities under Pillar II of AUKUS create an obvious pathway to co-fund uncrewed surface and uncrewed underwater vehicles. New industrial developments can reinforce the effort. Hanwha’s recent 9.9% stake in Austal highlights South Korea’s appetite for deeper collaboration. Co-producing mine-warfare or fleet-auxiliary vessels in Korean shipyards would swiftly plug key RAN capability gaps. Australia and South Korea have already elevated bilateral ties through a Comprehensive Strategic Partnership . The next defence ministers’ meeting should unveil a phased naval interoperability blueprint with measurable milestones. The opportunity exists and the strategic rationale is compelling. The Australia–South Korea naval partnership is important to each country’s broader Indo-Pacific objectives. To offer a genuine capability edge, it needs a naval interoperability framework to institutionalise the ability to operate together. Australia and Japan have shown what is possible. Australia will need to continue to broaden its naval relationships and interoperability to counter the increasingly contested maritime domain. The ROKN–RAN relationship offers significant potential. Now is the time to develop a naval interoperability working group that can translate strategic aims into operational outcomes.

28 May 25 | Jennifer Parker *Originally published in The Conversation on 28 May Image: China China Coast Guard vessel water canons Philippines Bureau of Fisheries and Aquatic Resources vessels in the area of the Pag-Asa Cays on 21 May. From Philippine's Coast Guard Spokesperson Commodore Jay Tarriela ( https://x.com/jaytaryela/status/1925464381116363119 ) Last week, Chinese coast guard vessels rammed and shot water cannon at Philippine ships in the South China Sea. The incident was well within the Philippines’ exclusive economic zone and was completely unprovoked. It is the latest example of a sustained pattern of Chinese maritime coercion that has intensified over the past three years. Despite the growing frequency and sheer aggression of these tactics, international attention and official rebukes have noticeably waned in the past 12 months. For Australia, a nation whose prosperity and security relies on maritime trade, there can be no room for complacency or desensitisation. China’s maritime aggression puts Australia at risk. Why freedom of navigation matters Australia’s lifeblood flows through the oceans. Roughly 99% of our trade by volume moves by sea. And two-thirds of Australia’s maritime trade travels through the South China Sea. In a crisis or conflict, Australia would rely on these maritime supply chains to continue delivering fuel, food, fertiliser, ammunition and other critical supplies to sustain our economy and defence forces. Any disruption to Australia’s seaborne supplies – whether by state-sanctioned harassment or outright force – threatens our national resilience at a fundamental level. Given this, Australia’s economy benefits significantly from the rules set forth in the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea , or UNCLOS. Australia should be deeply concerned by images of Chinese coast guard vessels ramming and firing water cannon at Philippine fisheries vessels. China’s coast guard and maritime militia have weaponised “ grey zone ” tactics such as these. Such actions are aimed at intimidation and coercion. They purposely fall short of actual conflict, which would trigger the collective defence guarantee between the Philippines and United States, or other strong international action. Each collision, each burst of water cannon, reinforces a new normal: that Beijing can coerce its neighbours in peacetime without bearing a strategic cost. Muted responses are hurting us The lack of response from the international community plays into this. International reporting of these incidents has declined compared to early last year. The once-robust chorus of diplomatic protests also appears more muted. The Australian ambassador to the Philippines expressed deep concerns about last week’s incident on social media, but there was no ministerial statement or response from Australia’s maritime agencies or Department of Defence. When a Chinese fighter pilot released flares near an Australian maritime patrol aircraft over the South China Sea in February, the defence department called the action “unsafe and unprofessional”. Formal complaints were lodged, but this was the end of it. While we must carefully manage our relationship with China as an important trading partner, the continuation of these incidents requires a stronger rebuke. Australia cannot allow a drift towards quiet acquiescence of these actions by our political leaders or the public. If coercive actions go unanswered, China will grow ever more confident that it can rewrite the norms of conduct at sea. Over time, a contested maritime environment would inflict real costs on Australian exporters, our digital connectivity and the ability of our Navy to operate freely and safely in regional waters. So, what must Australia do? First, we should step up our diplomatic efforts to spotlight every act of aggression in the South China Sea and the broader Indo-Pacific region. This could mean supporting the Philippines in a joint ministerial statement or other collective diplomatic condemnations. Second, Australia must continue to deepen practical cooperation with regional partners. This includes joint naval training exercises, information-sharing arrangements and coordinated patrols with partners such as the Philippines. This will send a clear signal: we stand shoulder to shoulder with those who champion freedom of navigation and respect for exclusive economic zones. Third, our strategic communications must be unambiguous. At home, Australians should understand that maritime security underpins our everyday prosperity, from the iPhones in our hands to the fuel in our cars and our internet banking. Lastly, Australia must back rhetoric with resources. We must accelerate the strengthening of our maritime and naval capabilities. Australia’s plans for new submarines and surface combatants will see delivery in the 2030s and 2040s. Timeframes of this nature do not meet our present strategic reality. Even with these new ships and submarines, glaring gaps remain and must be urgently closed. This includes acquiring mine-warfare vessels and establishing a coast guard, to name but a few. These efforts require more resourcing through increased defence spending and a genuine commitment to structural reform. History teaches that once coercion goes unchecked, it tends to escalate. The incident last week is not an isolated provocation, but part of a continued deterioration of security in the waters around us. Australia has both the right and the responsibility to challenge the normalisation of this kind of maritime aggression. We can push back by calling out each incident, continuing to deepen our regional partnerships, accelerating the development of our naval capabilities, and reinforcing international maritime law. Our future prosperity, and the security of generations to come, depends on it.

8 May 2025 | Jennifer Parker *Originally published in Leading Britain's Conversation on 8 May 2025 Image: Defence Minister Richard Marles will meet again with his British counterpart Grant Shapps Mar 24. Defence Images The September 2021 launch of the AUKUS partnership between Australia, the United Kingdom and the United States did more than pave the way for Australia to obtain nuclear-powered submarines. It signalled a turning point: the three longstanding partners see deeper collaboration on cutting-edge military capabilities as essential preparation for an increasingly contested global order. The reasons are obvious. Long before the current US administration’s position on Ukraine, rhetoric in support of Russia, and the opening salvos of what could become a global trade war, two broader trends had already put both the United Kingdom and Australia on the back foot. First, an increasing number of states are willing to use armed force to settle disputes. Russia’s illegal invasion of Ukraine is the clearest example, but conflict is also flaring across the Middle East, tensions have spiked recently in South Asia, and China is exerting growing military pressure on Taiwan while harassing Philippine government and fishing vessels inside the Philippines’ Exclusive Economic Zone in the South China Sea. Secondly, while war’s brutality endures, its conduct is changing fast: drones now roam land, sea and sky, artificial intelligence speeds decision-making, and ballistic and hypersonic missiles dominate the battlespace. Together, these trends require Australia, the United Kingdom and other like-minded partners to be ready to defend their vital interests with force—and to accelerate technological upgrades to stay battlefield-relevant. These dynamics gave rise to AUKUS. Pillar I will deliver nuclear-powered submarines for Australia while expanding United Kingdom and United States shipbuilding capacity; Pillar II binds the three nations to develop the next wave of capability—hypersonics, quantum technologies, artificial intelligence and other battlefield enablers. Yet AUKUS alone is no panacea. Elements of Washington’s change in approach to Ukraine, Russia and NATO show why Canberra and London should also strengthen complementary partnerships and widen the circle of technical defence cooperation. Their shared history, industrial synergies and broadly aligned strategic outlook make Australia and the United Kingdom natural partners for deeper collaboration beyond the formal alliance with the United States. With both the United Kingdom and Australia boosting defence spending, the scope for deeper technical collaboration is expanding. April’s deal between their defence science and technology agencies on future weapons systems is a promising start, but the partnership can—and should—go much further to strengthen each nation’s capabilities and defence industries. It must be ambitious, to meet the deteriorating strategic circumstances at pace. How do we achieve this between Australia and the United Kingdom? Make it a priority. Strip away red tape, share risk and start building together beyond submarines. Joint production lines for uncrewed underwater vehicles, uncrewed aerial vehicles, shared test ranges for hypersonics, and a security framework that protects intellectual property without throttling collaboration would give both nations sharper teeth at lower cost and create jobs at home. Bilateral collaboration of this degree will only help to underwrite AUKUS collaboration and mitigate some of its risks. If Canberra and London can turn good will and intent into actual capability before the decade ends, they will prove that determined middle powers need not wait for Washington’s lead to safeguard their interests—and Europe and the Indo-Pacific will be safer for it.

24 April 2025 | Jennifer Parker *Originally published in The Conversation Image: United States Navy Virginia-class submarine USS Minnesota alongside Fleet Base West in Western Australia. Defence Images Australian strategic thinking has long struggled to move beyond a narrow view of defence that focuses solely on protecting our shores . However, in today’s world, our economy could be crippled without an enemy boot stepping foot on Australian soil. Australia’s acquisition of nuclear-powered submarines through AUKUS marks a shift in this mindset. It is not a strategy in itself, but a structural pivot: a recognition that our vital interests lie far beyond the coastline, and that defending them requires Australia to project its maritime power. Protecting our vital sea lanes Over a century ago, US naval officer Alfred Thayer Mahan observed that “wars are won by the economic strangulation of the enemy from the sea”. While not universally true, this maxim is directly relevant to an island nation like Australia – 99% of our international trade moves by sea. But not just any trade – our critical supplies of fuel, fertiliser and ammunition all come by sea. Australia’s economy and defences would be crippled if these things were stopped at sea. These vulnerabilities are compounded by our growing dependence on undersea cables for communications. Strategic concepts that rely on making Australia’s territory a hard target, such as the “ strategic defensive ”, fail to grapple with this reality, perpetuating a flawed understanding of how to defend Australia. Viewing Australia’s interests solely through the lens of avoiding or defeating a territorial attack overlooks the reality that an adversary could cripple the nation far more easily through the maritime, space or cyber domains. The ability to project power in the seas and oceans far from Australia’s shores is critical to protecting these seaborne supply lines and sustaining the national economy. This is where AUKUS comes in – the endurance and range of nuclear-powered submarines are a key element. Developing a future maritime strategy Australia’s future nuclear-powered submarines would make adversary naval task groups vulnerable if they threatened our maritime trade routes. Much more is needed, however, to deliver a coherent maritime strategy. This includes: expanding our surface combatant fleet addressing the vulnerability of Australia’s limited number of resupply, mine warfare and hydrographic vessels and resolving longstanding issues around our strategic fleet (commercial ships that could be requisitioned in a time of crisis). We must also expand our flagged merchant shipping fleet by reforming the Australian International Shipping Register . And we must strengthen our domestic maritime security through the establishment of a national coastguard . But AUKUS, as the centrepiece of our future undersea capability, is a good start. AUKUS’ critics AUKUS has attracted plenty of criticism — particularly following the new Trump administration’s moves away from the US’ traditional allies in Europe. Yet, despite claims the three-phase AUKUS submarine plan is failing, it remains remarkably on track . Like any complex defence acquisition, it carries risks. These risks include the continued political will to keep the deal on track, as well as the workforce, delivery schedule and cost pressures that come with building the submarines. But the relevant question is not whether risks exist — if that were the test, most defence programs wouldn’t proceed. The question is whether the risks around AUKUS are being effectively mitigated. And as the three phases of the AUKUS deal progress, these risks will continue to evolve. Australia must remain focussed on addressing them. Political will is firm The political risk has been most salient recently, given the Trump administration’s actions on Europe, Ukraine, foreign aid and tariffs. But while these disruptions are significant, they were largely foreshadowed. By contrast, the political signals coming out of Washington around AUKUS have been overwhelmingly positive . This is because AUKUS is in the US’ strategic interests as much as it is in Australia’s interests. Importantly, the political commitment to AUKUS in Canberra, Washington and London has already been demonstrated. The “ optimal pathway ” to guide the agreement into the 2030s was signed within 18 months of AUKUS’ launch in September 2021. And the AUKUS treaty that enables the US and UK to transfer nuclear submarine technology and equipment to Australia has since been signed and entered into force among all three partners. In Australia, bipartisan support has held for over three years, with no sign of weakening. Australia’s importance to the US Many critics have also focused on the risks posed by the US submarine industrial base and its ability to build nuclear-powered submarines quickly enough. The US would need to increase its production rate to two Virginia-class submarines per year by 2028 – and subsequently to 2.33 submarines per year – in order to reach the target US fleet of 66 submarines by 2054 . But this does not preclude the sale of three Virginia-class submarines to Australia in the early 2030s. Australia is not just a recipient of submarines from the US — it will help enable the US’ undersea operations in the region. Our role as a rotational hub for US submarines and the longstanding support we can offer the US fleet through facilities such as the Harold E. Holt submarine communications station makes our contribution far more valuable than the notional loss of three submarines on paper. Could this change in the future? Like all international arrangements, of course it could. But there is no indication at present that it will. The defence of Australia is not simply about protecting our continent from attack — it is about safeguarding vital national interests. For an island nation, that means securing maritime trade routes and undersea infrastructure. Even for those concerned about the extremely unlikely prospect of invasion, a robust maritime strategy also enables threats to be defeated well before they reach our shores. Through its emphasis on maritime power projection, AUKUS reflects a fundamental shift in how we think about defending Australia in the decades ahead.

22 April 2025 | Jennifer Parker *Originally published in the Australian Financial Review on 22 April 2025 as part of their election 'Policy Pitch' series 'The Australian Financial Review asked prominent people to propose one policy initiative they believe political parties should pledge to do, should they win the election ' . Here's my pitch. Image: Originally published in the Australian Financial Review What’s the pitch? Talk on Defence in the last term and into the election has focused on capability, workforce and spending . While an important issue, absent from the discussion, has been the structure of Defence. Whoever forms the next government will face the formidable task of reshaping the structure of the Australian Defence Force and the Department of Defence to ensure readiness for any potential crisis or conflict in our region. The ADF – the army, navy and airforce – and the Department of Defence were formed in 1976 following the influential Tange reviews. The structure of the ADF has developed over time, with the forming of the Joint Operations Command in 2004 to manage ADF operations across the three services, and the Joint Capabilities Group in 2017. The Department of Defence has undergone several structural changes since its inception Subsequent reviews have expanded the Defence bureaucracy to meet peacetime requirements, most notably through the 2015 First Principles Review. While that review aimed to streamline Defence and ensure it was fit for purpose, it instead entrenched a cumbersome committee system and reduced accountability among key decision-makers. A decade on, the department’s structure has further morphed, now comprising 14 groups, and the roles of the army, navy, and air force chiefs have been diminished. Although these measures may reduce peacetime risk, they risk paralysing decision-making in a crisis or conflict. Why is it needed? Military strategists have long warned that prolonged peace can breed excessive bureaucracy, as illustrated by the Royal Navy’s challenges at the Battle of Jutland during World War I – sparking the famous rat-catchers or regulators debate [leaders who are willing to break conventions to achieve a goal, versus those who are cautious and rule-bound]. Although Australia has participated in conflicts over the past 80 years, they were distant engagements of choice. A conflict in the Indo-Pacific, however, would demand a far more agile Defence structure, with whole-of-nation and whole-of-government co-ordination. To prepare, we must streamline the Defence portfolio: reduce unnecessary hierarchy, empower the service chiefs, limit committee influence, increase spending ceilings of key leaders and delegate authority down. A concise, focused review should ensure clear accountability, a solid chain of command, greater agility in decision-making at lower levels, with decision-making geared toward the needs of any future crisis or conflict. This will develop a more resilient and self-reliant Defence structure. How much would it cost? Optimising our Defence structure to match current strategic circumstances is far less expensive than acquiring major new military hardware. In 2018, for example, the Department of Defence informed a parliamentary inquiry that it had spent approximately $245 million on consultancies to implement reforms from the First Principles Review. While that figure doesn’t necessarily indicate the cost of a new structural review today – and outsourcing is not ideal – it gives an order of magnitude cost. What would you scrap to pay for it? In this instance, Defence itself is best placed to determine how it should be organised for future crises or conflicts rather than another external review. Ultimately, the benefits of streamlining our Defence structure would likely far outweigh the costs. Importantly, business as usual activities – particularly acquisitions – must continue throughout the review, so we don’t lose critical preparation time for potential crises. Naturally, such a review will consume valuable decision-making capacity, potentially posing a greater cost than mere dollars. Still, to realise its benefits, it must be prioritised over other initiatives – possibly including some workforce measures. If done correctly, however, it should ultimately generate greater workforce capacity, but it will also ensure the organisation is better prepared for potential crises or conflicts – a lesson we don’t want to learn the hard way once a crisis hits.