4 November 2025 | Jennifer Parker *Originally published in the Lowy's The Interpreter 4 November 2025 Image: Grappling with how to defend a continent spanning 7.7 million square kilometres can seem overwhelming (Jake Badior/Defence.gov.au) There is growing concern about the shifting geopolitical environment, the increasing use of military force to settle disputes, and what this means for Australia’s future security and prosperity. Grappling with how to defend a continent spanning 7.7 million square kilometres, and national interests that extend far beyond our shores can seem overwhelming. Since the 2023 Defence Strategic Review , Australia’s defence strategy has rightly focused on protecting the nation through the maritime domain: defeating potential threats before they reach our coastline and safeguarding the maritime trade routes that sustain both our economy and our warfighting effort. But what does that actually require? Much more than AUKUS or Australia’s investment in nuclear-powered submarines and continuous naval shipbuilding. It demands consolidation of the nation’s maritime departments , greater coordination across defence, civil and industry elements, and investment in enabling capabilities, from mine-warfare and seabed monitoring to logistics and sustainment. As argued in A Maritime Strategy for Australia 2035 – a new report from the University of New South Wales Naval Studies Group – these flagship programs will only deliver their intended impact if Australia transitions to a genuine national maritime strategy. Without the less headline-grabbing investments in reform, coordination and enabling capabilities, warships and nuclear-powered submarines won’t be enough. Why does this matter? Because as Australia looks across the geopolitical landscape, the trend is clear: states are increasingly willing to use force to achieve their aims. Russia’s illegal invasion of Ukraine, renewed conflict in the Middle East, and this year’s fighting between India and Pakistan, and Thailand and Cambodia, all reflect a world where the post-war multilateral system, once kept in check by institutions such as the United Nations Security Council, is breaking down. As Australia looks across the geopolitical landscape, the trend is clear: states are increasingly willing to use force to achieve their aims. Closer to home, China has developed one of the most formidable militaries in the world. Central to this has been the expansion and modernisation of the People’s Liberation Army Navy, now boasting more than 370 battle-force ships, around 70% launched in just the past decade. Its actions around Taiwan and increasingly assertive behaviour towards Australian and other nations’ ships and aircraft in the South China Sea underscore the risks. The recent firing of flares near an Australian maritime patrol aircraft in international airspace could, in extreme circumstances, have caused catastrophic engine failure and loss of life. And earlier this year, China’s naval task group circumnavigated Australia, an unmistakable demonstration of its growing long-range maritime capability and a reminder of our vulnerabilities across a vast maritime domain on which our national prosperity depends. In the face of such global instability and China’s overwhelming military power, it can seem daunting to consider how Australia should protect its national interests. But the answer is not to try to match China’s military strength. It begins with understanding what those interests are, where Australia’s vulnerabilities lie, and how best to protect them in the event of a crisis or conflict. This requires a genuinely national approach to security, one that extends beyond defence and the military to include economic, industrial and societal resilience. Australia is not about to be invaded, but it remains acutely vulnerable across the maritime, cyber and space domains. While many commentators argue that Australia’s geography protects it, that same geography is a double-edged sword. Our vast maritime domain and dependence on seaborne trade make us exposed. A Maritime Strategy for Australia 2035 argues that Australia must urgently close capability gaps and strengthen naval readiness, but also that reducing vulnerability requires more than high-end military hardware. The report sets out how to make this national approach real: from rebuilding mine-warfare and hydrographic fleets and investing in uncrewed aerial vehicles that can operate from naval platforms, to creating a ministerial-level maritime governance body to coordinate Australia’s defence, industry and civil maritime efforts. It also calls for a coastguard-style body to take over policing and border-protection tasks, freeing the Navy to focus on high-end warfighting, alongside an independent costing of the nuclear-powered submarine program and a push to standardise ship designs and supply chains. Practical reforms that turn strategy into capability. As an island nation dependent on maritime trade, our defence strategy has finally recognised the centrality of the sea. We must also recognise the importance of civilian maritime capability. That means developing policy settings to encourage Australian-flagged ships capable of carrying critical supplies during crisis or conflict and rebuilding a national mariner skills base. In the history of Australia’s strategic debate, we have long grappled with what it takes to defend both our continent and our interests. As an island nation dependent on maritime trade, our defence strategy has finally recognised the centrality of the sea. But this cannot rest on warships and nuclear-powered submarines alone. It requires a truly national maritime strategy , one that integrates defence, industry and civil capability. The UNSW Naval Studies Group report sets out how we can begin that essential task. Australia’s future security and prosperity depend on it.

21 October 2025 | Jennifer Parker *Originally published in the Australian Financial Review on 21 October 2025 Image: Philippine Military resupply mission was hit with a water canon from a Chinese Coast Guard cutter. Philippine Military Photo The White House meeting between Prime Minister Anthony Albanese and US President Donald Trump produced a string of positives. Chief among them is Trump’s ringing endorsement of AUKUS and his first public commitment to sell nuclear-powered submarines to Australia under phase two of the deal. The message was clear: the defence relationship between the US and Australia remains strong. It was also a message Australia needed to hear after yet another unsafe and unprofessional intercept by a Chinese fighter aircraft, which endangered the crew of a Royal Australian Air Force P-8 maritime patrol aircraft operating lawfully in international airspace over the South China Sea on Sunday. During recent Senate estimates hearings, senior Defence Department officials again warned that Australia’s strategic circumstances are “deteriorating.” Defence secretary Greg Moriarty cautioned that “the risk of an incident has heightened over recent years, and the trends continue to be worrying”. He’s right. Sunday’s events are proof enough: the P-8 was harassed by the Chinese fighter that released flares dangerously close to its flight path, a reckless act that could have caused engine failure and cost Australian lives. This incident is not an isolated case or the actions of an overly aggressive People’s Liberation Army Air Force pilot who will be reprimanded on return to base. It forms part of a clear pattern of aggressive and reckless behaviour by Chinese pilots and naval commanders toward Australian – and other nations’ – ships and aircraft operating in international waters and airspace, regions through which more than two-thirds of Australia’s vital maritime trade flows. The Australian public was first made aware of such behaviour in early 2022, when an RAAF P-8 operating within Australia’s exclusive economic zone had a military-grade laser directed into its cockpit by a Chinese naval vessel transiting the Arafura Sea. Since then, several unsafe and unprofessional incidents involving China’s navy and air force have been publicly acknowledged by the Australian government, from Chinese naval units using active sonar against Australian divers from HMAS Toowoomba in the Japanese Exclusive Economic Zone in November 2023, to a Chinese fighter deploying flares in front of an Australian naval helicopter from HMAS Hobart conducting UN sanctions enforcement in the Yellow Sea in May 2023. In total, six incidents have been publicly confirmed, though there are almost certainly more. This pattern of harassment toward Australian ships and aircraft operating to our north extends back more than a decade, something I have witnessed firsthand at sea. But both the nature and intensity of these encounters have escalated in recent years, and while the public may have become accustomed to hearing of them, we cannot lose sight of what they represent: deliberate actions in international airspace and waters that endanger the lives of Australian Defence Force women and men. “In this context, Trump’s ringing endorsement of AUKUS, and his personal commitment to sell nuclear-powered submarines to Australia, is significant.” These incidents are also the canary in the coal mine for a rapidly changing security environment, driven by four prominent factors. First, the breakdown of the multilateral system that once helped dampen the use of military force by states. Second, the growing willingness of states to use force to settle disputes, from Europe and the Middle East to Asia. Third, the rapid expansion of China’s military capability. And finally, Beijing’s increasingly aggressive use of that capability, from coercive manoeuvres around Taiwan to dangerous incidents in the Philippines’ exclusive economic zone and beyond. During my recent visit to Beijing for the Australia-China High Level Dialogue, Chinese officials were explicit: China views the South China Sea as part of its “core interests” and believes that foreign military assets have no right to operate there, despite it being international airspace and waters under international law. Beijing feels justified in using increasingly reckless and dangerous behaviour to assert this claim; a stance that directly undermines the security of a maritime trade-dependent nation like Australia. Trump confidently declared that while AUKUS served as a deterrent to China, “we won’t need it”. When asked whether China would invade Taiwan, he replied that it would not, emphasising his “good relationship” with Beijing. But as Australia learnt on Sunday, the facts in the air over the South China Sea tell a different story. Warnings from Australia’s Defence Department are echoed even more strongly by senior leaders in the US Indo-Pacific Command, including Admiral Samuel Paparo, who earlier this year described China as being on a “dangerous course,” noting that the PLA’s “aggressive manoeuvres around Taiwan” in February were not “exercises” but “rehearsals”. His predecessor likewise warned that China’s strategy resembled a “boiling frog”, a gradual, deliberate escalation until it is too late to respond. In this context, Trump’s ringing endorsement of AUKUS, and his personal commitment to sell nuclear-powered submarines to Australia, is significant. Sunday’s unsafe and unprofessional incident by the People’s Liberation Army is yet another clear example of a deteriorating regional environment in which Australia’s national security interests are directly challenged. While conflict is not inevitable, I don’t share Trump’s rosy outlook on China. Australia must prepare for the possibility of crisis or conflict; not to invite it, but to deter it. And if deterrence fails, we must be ready to respond. Australia cannot afford to become the desensitised boiling frog.

15 September 2025 | Jennifer Parker *Originally published in the Sydney Morning Herald on 15 September 2025 Image: Papua New Guinea Defence Force soldiers from the 1st Battalion, Royal Pacific Islands Regiment during the Presentation of Colours at Murray Barracks in Port Moresby on Sunday, 15 September 2025. (Defence Images) Debate on Australia’s defence strategy often centres on the budget and the plan to acquire nuclear-powered submarines . Both matter, but an equally critical pillar – partnerships – receives far less attention. The anticipated signing of what Papua New Guinea’s defence minister has called a “mutual defence” treaty underscores this point, highlighting the renewed focus on a neighbour whose security is inseparable from Australia’s own. The signing of a defence treaty between Australia and Papua New Guinea is expected this week, when Prime Minister Anthony Albanese travels to PNG to coincide with the 50th anniversary of the nation’s independence. It will be more than symbolic. It reflects an increasingly close defence relationship built in recent years, including the 2023 bilateral security agreement , major Australian investment in the Lombrum Naval Base expansion in PNG, and deeper co-operation through exercises such as Talisman Sabre . Australia and Papua New Guinea have a longstanding relationship, but several factors are driving the renewed security focus. Chief among them is China’s growing influence across the Pacific, particularly in PNG over the past decade . While Australia remains PNG’s largest trading and aid partner, China is now its second-largest trading partner, with major investments in critical infrastructure. Beijing has sought to leverage this economic relationship into security ties, lobbying PNG to sign a security deal in 2023 and a policing agreement in 2024, both of which ultimately stalled. China’s push shows it views the Pacific as a strategic arena, evident in its 2022 security agreement with Solomon Islands. A Chinese security and, more specifically, military foothold in the Pacific, particularly in PNG, would directly threaten Australia’s interests. It could enable Beijing to cut Australia and the US off from Pacific sea lines of communication, and position missiles or broader military forces within striking distance of Australia. While such a scenario is not an immediate likelihood, it explains why PNG sits so high on Australia’s security agenda, and on China’s too. The signing of a defence treaty between Australia and PNG is about more than countering China’s influence. It also recognises PNG’s enduring importance to Australia, both historically and geographically. In World War I, Australia’s first naval casualty, Able Seaman Bill Williams , died on September 11, 1914 at the Battle of Bita Paka in PNG, Australia’s first military operation as a nation. For its part, PNG needs significant investment to modernise its defence capabilities. Despite releasing a defence white paper and national security policy in 2013, resourcing shortfalls have limited progress, prompting Port Moresby to seek partners, signing security agreements in 2023 with Australia, the US and the UK . While it is not yet clear how this week’s expected treaty will build on the 2023 Framework for Closer Security Relations , it will undoubtedly elevate the relationship further. PNG Defence Minister Billy Joseph has described it as a “mutual defence treaty”, enabling a “totally integrated force” with the Australian Defence Force, with a consultation requirement similar to NATO’s: obliging the two countries to consult when their territorial integrity, security or political independence are threatened. Other reports suggest it may also pave the way for PNG citizens to serve in the ADF. While the 2023 security agreement between Australia and PNG already contained a clause on security consultation, the new treaty may strengthen this commitment, which serves both countries’ interests. A mutual defence treaty would typically imply an obligation to respond to an attack on either party, akin to NATO’s famed Article 5 : an attack on one is an attack on all. Whether this treaty will go that far remains unclear, but the possibility is significant. Equally notable is the discussion of force integration. Integration is better understood as a spectrum rather than a binary choice. Full integration would imply a common command-and-control framework to direct units from either military, common training, interoperable equipment, and the sharing of highly classified information. That is an ambitious goal that remains unlikely in the near term. Still, steps towards deeper co-operation include Colonel Boniface Aruma’s appointment as deputy commander of Australia’s 3rd Brigade in January 2024. While “full integration” may be out of reach, greater interoperability and shared structures mark positive progress for both countries. There has also been considerable discussion about allowing PNG citizens to join the ADF, and vice versa, an initiative that could strengthen integration through cultural affinity and mutual understanding. While this is widely expected to feature in the treaty, it carries challenges. A flow of PNG personnel leaving their own defence force for higher paid roles in the ADF would risk undermining Port Moresby’s military capacity. A better path is unit-level integration, such as PNG patrol boats under Australia’s joint headquarters, a model scalable across the Pacific. It is encouraging to see two partners, which have at times taken each other for granted, taking meaningful steps towards closer defence ties. The signing of this treaty represents the most significant upgrade in the relationship since PNG’s independence. While it is unlikely to amount to a full mutual defence pact or a fully integrated force, it is a clear sign that Australia’s regional defence strategy is beginning to bear fruit.

29 August 2025 | Jennifer Parker *Originally published in the Sydney Morning Herald on 29 August 2025 Image: HMAS Sydney transits as part of the double carrier formation, UK Carrier Strike Group, led by HMS Prince of Wales and US Navy’s George Washington Carrier Strike Group, during Exercise Talisman Sabre 2025. (Defence Images) With Defence Minister Richard Marles back from a mysterious trip to the US, the alliance is back in the spotlight, as it has been since the second Trump administration took office. This week we debated whether Marles’ photo with US Secretary of Defence Pete Hegseth represented a “happenstance” or a “meeting”, an issue that represents the chaos in the Pentagon rather than a reflection on the alliance. Yet beneath the headlines lies a more pressing question: in a crisis, how would we fight together in an Indo-Pacific conflict, are our expectations of roles clear and are they truly in Australia’s interest? I would argue they are not. Australia should focus on complementing US power while retaining the ability to execute key roles independently, from defending Australia and its maritime trade to supporting partners in the Pacific without relying on Washington. After all, as a sovereign nation, Australia alone is responsible for its defence. This debate has sharpened with reports that the Pentagon’s undersecretary of defence for policy, Elbridge Colby, is pressuring Australia to clarify its role in a potential conflict over Taiwan. While suggestions of demands for a formal pre-commitment seem unlikely, especially given Washington’s own policy of strategic ambiguity , it is clear the US wants greater certainty. Australia should want that clarity too. Long a cornerstone of Australia’s military strategy, the alliance has allowed a nation of 27 million to wield disproportionate influence in an era of great-power competition. Despite tensions over the US review of AUKUS and calls for higher defence spending , co-operation between Canberra and Washington has reached levels not seen since World War II, from a surge in force posture initiatives to the growth in military exercises and exchanges. Australia’s 2024 National Defence Strategy notes that “Australia’s alliance with the US is fundamental to our national security and the ADF’s capacity to generate, sustain and project credible military capability”. While true, it prompts a critical question: in a crisis or conflict in the Indo-Pacific, would that power be projected as part of a US-led force, with Australian units integrated into American command, or in a complementary role with clearly defined missions, responsibilities and geographic areas? Who is responsible for defending Australia? This is more than semantics; it goes to the heart of who controls the employment of Australian ships, aircraft and other capabilities, and how we design and operate the ADF. The question of integration of forces versus delineation of forces becomes even more pressing given that, in any Indo-Pacific conflict, Australia would be fighting from its own territory for the first time since WWII. This represents a profound cultural shift, highlighted by Chief of Defence Force Admiral David Johnston, who noted earlier this year that “perhaps finally we are having to reconsider Australia as a homeland from which we will conduct combat operations”. Australia often underscores its reliability by noting that Australian and American forces have fought side by side in every major conflict since the Battle of Hamel in WWI, from Europe to Iraq and Afghanistan. This history can create the impression that operating together is a well-trodden path. At the tactical level, that’s true. But strategically, the conflicts of the past differ markedly from those we may face in the future. Australia built its force contributions to fight and, when required, to sacrifice on distant shores, where the defence of the continent was never in question and Australian civilians were never directly at risk. The only time Australia fought alongside the US with its own defence and civilian population at risk was during the Pacific campaign of WWII. After the fall of Singapore, a vulnerable Australia turned to Washington for protection, placing its forces under US General Douglas MacArthur’s command. While that arrangement proved successful, Australia today is a different nation. It has long since shed the constraints of empire, formalised by the 1986 Australia Act , and now boasts a far more diverse population, with 31.5 per cent of Australians born overseas. Australia in 2025 is far less willing to hand control of its naval, air and land forces and its defence to a US commander, and rightly so. But does Washington see it that way? It’s a critical question, especially with the growing presence of US marines, bombers and submarines on Australian shores, all of which will need protection. The harder truth, however, is that Australia has neither funded nor designed its ADF to independently defend the continent or execute key missions without US support. From a lack of sovereign space capability to limited missile defence and a stretched navy, the gaps are stark. Investment in nuclear-powered submarines and a larger surface fleet is a start, but real sovereignty requires more, a clear strategy and a force design built around Australia’s own defence and regional roles. It should be designed to be supported by the US in our defence, not in support of the US defending us. The Australia–US alliance is, rightly, a cornerstone of Australia’s defence strategy and efforts to deepen co-operation with Washington have been vital. But as states increasingly turn to force to settle disputes, a stronger alliance depends on both partners having a clear understanding of each other’s expectations. Roles and responsibilities must be clearly defined. To preserve its autonomy, Australia must articulate and fund a strategy that clearly delineates responsibilities, rather than continuing to field a force built to be employed under US command, as it has in past conflicts.

13 August | Jennifer Parker *Originally published in Lowy's The Interpreter on 12 August 2025 Image: HMAS Sydney during Exercise BERSAMA SHIELD 2025 (Defence Images) Maritime trade is Australia’s lifeline – in times of peace, crisis or conflict. Without ships bringing in the fuel, fertiliser, ammunition, and other critical supplies that keep our economy running and our defence viable, Australia would quickly run out. Yet Sam Roggeveen, arguing in The Interpreter , “ Why Japan’s Mogami frigates can’t protect Australia’s trade ”, joins a long line of advocates for a continental defence approach, underplaying the importance of protecting maritime trade. This view seeks to wish away Australia’s vulnerabilities rather than confront them. To adopt such a view would be a costly strategic error. Roggeveen makes three key claims: first, that the newly announced plan to acquire Mogami frigates from Japan would leave Australia with ships unacceptably vulnerable against a highly capable adversary; second, that trade routes themselves are too long to protect; and third, that the effort is not worth it. Theorists have often argued that surface combatants such as frigates and destroyers are increasingly vulnerable to the proliferation of missiles and now uncrewed capabilities, including aerial vehicles and surface vessels. Most have never operated a warship combat system or fired a missile. While vessels operating closer to the coast are indeed exposed to a greater range of threats , lessons from recent naval warfare quickly debunk notions that frigates are now unacceptably vulnerable against a capable adversary. In both the Russia-Ukraine war in the Black Sea and the challenge of Houthi attacks on commercial shipping in the Red Sea, ships with well-prepared, well-trained crews , effective radars, modern combat systems and layered defences remain highly effective . Notably, despite firing hundreds of missiles and UAVs at US and European warships, the Houthis have yet to achieve a hit on a warship . This is why a wide range of nations, including China , continue to invest heavily in them. In seeking to dismiss the challenge of protecting Australia’s maritime lifelines, Roggeveen overlooks the fundamentals of maritime trade protection. While he doubts the upgraded Mogami’s ability to safeguard Australia’s trade, he ignores that protection comes from a system of capabilities: ships, submarines, satellites, and processes such as naval control of shipping, evasive routing, and alliances. Australia’s new frigates are a key part of that system, capable of providing close protection when required, but this is often unnecessary when broader sea control , that freedom of maritime manoeuvre, is maintained. The term sea lines of communication often creates the false impression that maritime trade routes are like fixed highways on land. No such permanence exists – routes are fluid, not fixed . In peacetime, merchant shipping follows the most direct routes to save time and fuel. But as the Houthi attacks on merchant vessels have shown, ships will take longer, less direct routes to avoid threats and costly war-risk insurance. Protecting Australia’s maritime supply is less about defending a single route than safeguarding the ships themselves. Protection need not be absolute along the entire route; it must be applied where and when the ship is at risk. Roggeveen argues that Australia’s enormous landmass and dispersed major ports make blockading trade “a massively costly enterprise for an adversary”. Yet an adversary would not need to stop access to every port. Targeting key shipments across the Pacific and Indian oceans would quickly deter ships from trading with Australia. That task becomes far easier if Australia abandons maritime protection altogether, as Roggeveen’s continental strategy proposes. It is not all 29,000 ships that visit Australia each year or every port that needs protecting, but a much smaller, vital subset. It is the critical seaborne supply , the essential goods without which the nation could not sustain a war. It is the portion of maritime trade that finances the war effort and enables the nation to fight, and potentially win, the conflict. And it is the critical seaborne supply for partners and allies, such as Japan, the Philippines, and South Korea, of energy, food, and other essentials. Roggeveen’s answer is to stockpile goods and accelerate the renewable energy transition. Both are worthwhile objectives, but neither removes the need for seaborne supply. As I have noted elsewhere, the first step in any effective maritime strategy is strategic resilience , reducing the volume of goods that must be protected. But Australia is not, and will not become, self-sufficient to the point where it can eliminate reliance on sea supply. Stockpiling critical goods is valuable in reducing what needs to cross the ocean, but it only buys time. Without the ability to replenish stockpiles in a contested environment, Australia’s capacity to resist in a major crisis or conflict would be strictly limited. So, protecting maritime trade is about identifying which elements will be essential in a conflict or crisis, then reducing dependencies and implementing robust port protection measures. This should be complemented by maritime trade routing plans to avoid threats, diversification of trading partners to minimise exposure to high threat areas, and a theatre-wide approach combining sensors and capabilities to achieve sea control at the time and place required. If necessary, and only as a last resort, a convoy system with escorts, similar to that employed for coastal and some Indian Ocean shipping in the Second World War , could be reintroduced. Protecting critical elements of maritime trade is not optional for Australia, it is a matter of national survival.

5 August 2025 | Jennifer Parker *Originally published in The Conversation on 5 August 2025 Image: The Maritime Self-Defense Force's Mogami-class frigate Niyodo sails at an undisclosed location in this image released Tuesday. | ADF Defence Minister Richard Marles has announced that Japanese shipbuilder Mitsubishi Heavy Industries has been awarded a massive contract to build three new frigates for Australia’s navy. The deal is worth a reported A$10 billion . There are two reasons this deal is so significant. The first is it enhances our naval capabilities. This is the first government in at least the past 50 years to push through such a significant expansion of Australia’s surface combatant fleet (meaning frigates and destroyers). Under the government’s plans, we will be operating at least 20 surface combatants by the 2040s. The second reason it’s so significant is because of what it says about our relationship with Japan. Our strategic relationship has clearly evolved over the past ten years. In 2022, our two nations signed a joint declaration on security cooperation , which can be read as a quasi-alliance. Now, this decision to purchase the new Mogami-class frigates really shows how much we trust Japan in terms of its industrial capability and its ability to support our shipbuilding needs. Our troubled surface combatant fleet The current state of our surface combatant fleet is parlous. We only have ten surface combatants, which is half as many as analysts have said we need . That is meant to decrease to nine next year, when HMAS Arunta is decommissioned. The Australian National Audit Office did an audit of the sustainment of our ANZAC-class frigates in 2019, which found the ships were not in a good state. The hulls had been degraded because they had been run so hard. And the reason they’d been run so hard is because we didn’t have enough ships. So, this deal with Mitsubishi Heavy Industries means we have a concrete plan to replace some of them. There’s still an issue with the time frame, though. We’re expecting to receive the first ship from the Japanese in 2029, with two more by 2034. That’s asking a lot of the current ANZAC-class ships. There’s a real question about whether they can actually make it that long, or if we will need to decommission even more in the latter part of this decade. The reason we have this time frame gap is because you can’t build ships overnight. In 2009, we identified a need to replace the ANZACs, and we didn’t make a decision on a new ship until 2018 when we selected the Hunter-class frigates. These new ships are being designed and built by BAE , a UK company. The first Hunter frigate is expected to be operational in 2034. That’s a huge time gap between the decision to go with BAE in 2018 and actually having our first ship. We were initially meant to get nine Hunter-class ships, but that number was reduced to six last year when an independent analysis team recommended acquiring a number of new multipurpose frigates instead (the Mogami frigates now coming from Japan). We don’t know exactly when the Hunter frigates will all be delivered. But even once we have them, it will also be difficult to integrate two different types of frigates (the Hunters and Mogamis) into service at the same time. There won’t be a lot of commonality between the two types of ship. The government should be pushing Japan to see if we can possibly get the Mogami frigates any earlier. And we should be talking to BAE about doing the same. The one major flaw in this whole process is the failure of successive governments to take a broader look at Australia’s naval capability needs. The independent analysis led by retired US Navy Vice Admiral William Hilarides last year should have been directed to do this. We’ve solved one problem now with the surface combatants, but other issues remain. We’re playing a game of whack-a-mole. Risks with the Japan deal There are also a range of risks with the new deal. One is that the new Mogami ship doesn’t actually exist yet. We’ve ordered an upgraded Mogami, based on a new design. Japan has even said Australia could get one of the upgraded ships ahead of its own navy . This risk is mitigated, however, by Japan’s fantastic track record in building ships. The second risk, which is significant and should not be underestimated, is that Japan does not have experience in exporting complex military equipment overseas. Japan has never exported a new warship to another country. And what complicates this further is that Australia has historically been quite a demanding shipbuilding customer. Some believe a reason for the challenges we’ve experienced with the Hunter-class frigates is partially because we’ve made a lot of changes . Lastly, the strategic relationship between Australia and Japan is bigger than shipbuilding. It has rapidly evolved because our national security interests are aligned. The danger with this frigate deal is that it could damage our relationship if something doesn’t go right. So, we need to proceed carefully to make sure this doesn’t happen.

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.