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The reawakening of New Zealand’s security relationship with the United States is seen a positive here, but there’s a distinct subtext of ‘but only because it was done on our terms’. A significant cooling of Australia’s relationship with the US would be a political disaster for the incumbent government in Canberra. In Wellington it’s almost a badge of honour—at least in retrospect. Here, giving ground to the US in order to further the relationship, especially on nuclear issues, would be widely unpopular.

Similarly, New Zealand’s view of China is different to Australia’s. Like us, they see the economic opportunities of greater trade with a growing giant. Unlike us, they don’t see themselves wedged between the US and China. To an extent I think that’s due to a more cautious embrace of American power, but I think it’s mostly a more accurate assessment of China’s levers of power. (Though the local paper noted today that China stopped tonnes of New Zealand frozen meat on the waterfront for ‘lacking proper paperwork’ about the same time New Zealand is closing a free trade deal with Taiwan.)

Of most interest to me, however, were discussions of military strategy and force structure. I said some nice things about Kiwi thinking about strategy and budgets here on The Strategist recently. And I think that was a reasonably accurate assessment. The NZDF has a reasonably well-defined role and understands what it’s being asked to do. But, just like Australia, there’s a disconnect between aspiration and resourcing. While it’s an obvious point, I should have added a caveat in my series of blog pieces (parts one, two and three) on matching Australia’s aspiration, ADF capability and the defence budget: even a modest strategy needs adequate funding. Lowering the bar on capability goals won’t in itself solve the resourcing problem if the funding is lowered even further.

That seems to be a real risk the NZDF is facing. New Zealand’s defence budget (PDF) is currently about US$2.1 billion, or a bit over 1% of local GDP. Over the next few years that share is likely to drop to below 1%. At the same time, the RNZAF is going to have to replace its C-130 Hercules fleet—an absolutely essential capability for a country with at least a three hour flight to pretty much anywhere. Beyond that, it faces the task of replacing its ageing P-3 Orion maritime patrol aircraft and its Anzac frigates. There’s real concern here about the ability to do that. Part of the problem seems to be the baseline of the depreciation funding model that’s been adopted, but that was hardly incalculable, and actually shows the lack of priority being given to defence funding.

Australia’s force structure solutions aren’t helping. Our recent purchases of C-17 has given the RAAF’s airlift capability a big boost, and the decision to buy new C-27 battlefield air lifters makes a lot of sense with Australia’s regional geography. New Zealand probably can’t afford a C-17 purchase (although a share arrangement with Australia might make sense and hasn’t been ruled out) and the C-27 isn’t at all a good fit. And if Australia continues with its bigger and more capable line of thought about the future frigate program, we’ll produce a vessel that won’t fit New Zealand’s requirements and will far outstrip their purchasing power. There’s nothing unusual about this situation, and I’ve written frequently about the stresses on defence budgets caused by the rising generational cost of military equipment. But when you’re already on a small scale and a pretty lean budget, it starts to look like an existential threat.

The net result is a real question mark over the continuing ability of the NZDF to execute the tasks identified for it. The consensus here seems to be that the minimum capability required is air and sea lift in support of stabilisation and peacekeeping operations, and the ability to put a battalion on the ground if required (around 600 personnel). As well, everyone agrees that New Zealand needs a maritime constabulary capability. I think there’s a critical question to be asked if capability drops below the level required to reliably meet such requirements—at what stage does a defence force stop being worth having? If you can’t plan on being able to conduct even low level operations, do you end up with an expensive civil response capability which doesn’t add to your external national power base?

To be clear, New Zealand is far from that point at the moment, but it’s not a preposterous prospect given the resourcing environment and the current trend. The message I’ve taken away from this meeting is that our mates across the Tasman have some hard thinking to do. New Zealand is a commendably independent country which can make tough decisions and devise its own strategy. But, like us, they’re having trouble matching those strategies with the resources required to support them.

Andrew Davies is a senior analyst for defence capability at ASPI and executive editor of The Strategist. Image courtesy of Flickr user New Zealand Defence Force.

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Yes, Deng Xiaoping criticised Mao, but did not vilify him as Germans did Hitler, or denounce him as Moscow did Stalin. Deng declared Mao 70% correct and 30% mistaken, hoping to forestall further perilous debate; meanwhile, he subtly dismantled Mao’s leftism and focused on economic development. He summed up his task-orientation: “I don’t care whether the cat is black or white, as long as it catches the mouse”. Mao lived long enough to be the ‘Marx-Lenin-Stalin rolled into one’ of the Chinese Revolution. Deng needed just the Lenin part.

But the departed tyrant, to Deng’s irritation, experienced a life after death among Chinese farmers and youth, especially taxi drivers who hung a photo of him on the steering wheel to ward off accidents. Department stores used a model of Mao to display silk pajamas. Nightclub singers crooned songs that cited Mao’s words. Farmers clutched a Mao image as they fended off flood waters.

Some of this was nostalgia for Mao that reflected disappointment with Deng. Portraits of Mao printed for public sale leapt from 370,000 copies in a couple of years to 23 million and soon to 50 million. In Karaoke clubs young people enjoyed songs in praise of him, and even Mao temples appeared in the southeast.

Only once since 1976 has Mao been needed politically. Post-Tiananmen, the government plastered walls with Mao quotations and revived the heroic Lei Feng myth (“I am a cog in the machine of Chairman Mao’s Communist Party”). However, this phase was aborted by the collapse of the Soviet Union and Deng’s ensuing decision to cancel the leftist surge and promote stock exchanges.

After Deng died in 1997, new leader Jiang Zemin sought to place himself alongside Mao and Deng as a third milestone on China’s march to 20th century greatness. He associated himself with Mao’s grandson Mao Xinyu at the time of the centennial of Mao’s birth, to unveil a ten-meter-tall bronze statue of the Chairman. But no public enthusiasm was evident.

Today Xi Jinping quotes Mao approvingly, but the CCP mentions him less. The giant of 20th century China wafts into folklore, famous there like the Yellow Emperor, the Goddess of Mercy and other near-mythical figures.

The Olympic Games of 2008 seemed a set-back for Mao’s life-after-death. Many foreigners and maybe many Chinese wondered at the mention of Confucius but not Mao in the opening and closing ceremonies. Was it because Mao was a bone-deep Chinese nationalist, while the Olympic Games was about globalisation as well as about China?

Some say leftism could one day resurge in China under a Mao banner in the name of national unity, Chinese cultural pride, and economic equality. Mao’s grandson and thousands of activist intellectuals praise the Cultural Revolution on ‘Utopia’ and other websites. Others foresee a post-communist China falling into disorder, as happened in parts of the former Soviet Union, and Mao pressed into the service of fascism in the name of order, heroic leadership, and national pride.

If the 21st century is China’s, Mao may be seen as founder of a Golden Age. If China meets major trouble in trying to reconcile a new economy with a little-changed political system, he might be blamed for the entire communist experiment. Either way he might be viewed as a populist dictator with various strands to his thoughts, including anarchism, Confucianism, Marxism, Daoism, and fascism.

A Chinese tradition exists of leaders moving back and forth between real life and legend-dom. If smokers become a despised minority in 20–30 years, they may rally around the memory of Mao as a patron saint to validate their liking for cigarettes. Already, tourists to Jinggangshan mountains, a Mao base, toss unlit cigarettes onto Mao’s old wooden bed in remembrance of one who loved to smoke. This impulse has little to do with the issue of smoking and health, of course, but expresses a nostalgic affinity, attractive to people half-anxious at their smoking, across the boundary between today’s world and an ethereal world.

Last year I observed youth dining in a ‘Cultural Revolution-style’ café of rough-hewn tables with Mao quotations on the wall while chatting about sex and the stock market. In rural China the departed giant means more: a flawed emperor who remains a benign father figure. For the Communist Party, Mao still is serious business, a Lenin who is the on-going legitimation for its grip on power.

Ross Terrill of Harvard’s Centre for Chinese Studies is a visiting international senior fellow at ASPI. His biography of Mao is well known in China. Image courtesy of Flickr user Jorge Lascar.

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With a quarter of the ADF based in Queensland this is good business in terms of bringing regular money to the local economy. And with most base services and deeper level maintenance now privatised, it provides a nice state payroll tax income as well. In this, there’s also extensive local industry involvement in on-going base development. Queensland last year attracted the largest share of the ADF Major Capital Facilities Program funding, some $440 million. (In passing, it should be noted that Queensland is rebalancing, noting that defence manufacturing is a high-value activity.)

South Australia has made the biggest defence play of the States. A decade ago it focussed mainly on money in terms of helping local companies try to win work on major equipment projects—think Collins Class submarines and the Air Warfare Destroyers. Since then though the state has also focussed on gaining jobs from ADF units moving into the Adelaide region. Relocating 7 RAR from Darwin to Adelaide has brought some $600m in facility construction but also some 1200 soldiers and about the same number of dependants, generating about $100m extra local income annually. The State’s ambitions are clearly articulated in its strategic plan: “Increase defence and defence industry annual contribution to our economy to $2.5 billion and employment to 37,000 people by 2020.” This is of course a zero-sum game with SA’s gains being at the loss of another state as the 7RAR move out of Darwin suggests, albeit the NT’s loss in this case is outweighed somewhat by the US Marines moving into the now vacant barracks.

The straightforward economic imperative means that, much more than at the Federal department level, the state defence industry strategies must also be concerned about resources: skilled manpower, money and material. Gaining benefits can require investments in the state’s education system that skills the staff companies need, providing monetary incentives, relaxing regulatory frameworks and even building facilities for industry to use. South Australia has invested some $300m of State money into shipbuilding infrastructure; this might give a good return on investment over time, but isn’t necessarily something the Defence Department would have undertaken by itself.

Economic considerations also impel the states to think seriously about their defence industries being sustainable, resulting in a higher value placed on commercial spin-offs, dual-use production and exports. (As well, it must be said, as trying to lock in as much federal defence work as possible, for as long as possible.) Civil sector work and exports are aspects that the Defence Department is spared from being overly involved in. For Defence if a local defence company fails, so be it; for the state concerned it bites close to home. The flip-side though is that commercial sales and exports can bring the state further money and jobs. Defence gains little tangible from a local company being successful in these fields.

Companies are the targets of the federal and state defence industry strategies and so have a keen interest in them. At this level, the economic imperative looms larger still, although companies have an option denied the other levels—they can opt to leave the defence business altogether.

Company decisions to stay or go hinge on the level of certainty relating to new and existing business. With many Australian defence companies—especially the larger ones—having little income from exports or the civil markets, their investment decisions (PDF) are driven by their perceptions and the realities of how the Department of Defence chooses to spend the money allocated to it. Turbulence in defence budgets, the favouring of off-shore suppliers, reform programs and sudden withdrawals of equipment from service can all have serious commercial impacts (PDF). While there is much talk (PDF) of partnerships, collaboration, innovation, incentives and skilling, these are simply means to an end. The key objective of defence industry strategies from a company perspective is certainty in terms of a predictable flow of work (PDF).

Strategies are simply ways that means are used to achieve ends. Defence industry strategies need to have specific objectives clearly articulated before meaningful progress can be made on ways and means. But these objectives differ between the federal (political and departmental), state and company levels. These levels don’t just interact, but are interdependent, with change at one level positively or negatively impacting the others. The ‘trick’ in making successful industry strategies and avoiding incoherent ones is then having objectives that are sensible and supportive across all levels. Not an easy task!

Peter Layton is undertaking a research PhD in grand strategy at UNSW, and has been an associate professor of national security strategy at the US National Defense University. Image courtesy of Department of Defence.

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These range curves show where Australia’s fixed-wing air power, if limited to bases on Australian soil, will be able to establish air cover for operations close to the mainland, although care needs to be taken in interpreting the diagram. Whether we can marshal sufficient numbers of aircraft to outgun an adversary is another question entirely. A single aircraft can remain on station for an hour at the outer edges of the range rings—maintaining two or more aircraft on station continuously would demand a rate of effort that would quickly run down the Air Force’s capability. However, provided the tanker aircraft can be protected, there will be at least some capability to extend air cover into some—but not all—of the ‘immediate neighbourhood’ as identified in the White Paper; Indonesia, Papua New Guinea, East Timor, New Zealand and the South Pacific Islands.

But this doesn’t imply either that the Air Force’s capability is sufficient or insufficient to provide for the defence of Australia and its immediate environs, or to conduct maritime strike operations—that will depend on the scale of force brought by an adversary and the dispersal of those forces. It’s much easier—although still resource intensive—to maintain an air presence close to home, because the crucial elements are distance, access to basing, and timing. The further the aircraft have to operate from their base, the harder it is to maintain an operational tempo. A corollary of this point is any would-be aggressor would have difficulty in sustaining an air presence close to our shores.

If we wanted the ADF to be able to provide air cover for the entire immediate neighbourhood, then we would need to use bases located in other countries. If we were helping a neighbour defend themselves we would be granted access. If a neighbour was attacking us or providing passage to someone else to attack us, we would not be granted access. That leaves the case of uninvolved third parties. While that’s possible in principle—Australia’s interests might well align with an otherwise uninvolved party—it can’t be guaranteed. If we wanted to support air operations from a base located in a neighbour’s country, for a conflict which that neighbour wasn’t a part of, it would be reasonable for them to say no.

It’s possible that this picture will change in the future with the emergence of long-range drones suitable for air to air as well as air to ground tasks. But that day is a probably a long way off yet, although we should remember Moore’s Law when making such predictions.

This picture should be compulsory reading for anyone contemplating ADF maritime power projection operations. Unless they are relatively close to home, they’ll be done without persistent fixed wing air cover. Of course, a DDG (air warfare destroyer) along with a task group would provide protection against air attack to a point, but we’ve just rediscovered why USN battle groups have a carrier sitting in the middle.

Andrew Davies is a senior analyst for defence capability at ASPI and executive editor of The Strategist.

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The Africa Progress Report is produced by the African Progress Panel and published in May each year. The panel’s composed of influential business and political figures and is chaired by former UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan. Its mandate is to ‘advocate at the highest levels for equitable and sustainable development in Africa’.

This year’s Africa Progress Report—released at the World Economic Forum meeting in Cape Town—focuses on the extractive industries of oil, gas and mining. The report’s findings made headlines around the world, highlighting exactly why African populations aren’t yet fully benefiting from the continent’s resource wealth. It details the horrifying extent of the corrupt practices that plague Africa’s resource sectors and gives details of secret mining deals, the undervaluation of state assets, tax evasion and transfer pricing (moving profits to jurisdictions with lower tax). It’s estimated that transfer pricing is costing Africa $34 billon each year.

The report uses the mining sector in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) as a key example. It explains that the DRC ‘incurred losses of $1.36 billion between 2010 and 2012 as a result of the alleged undervaluation of state assets in five mining deals’. It states that ‘with some of the world’s richest mineral resources the DRC appears to be losing out because state companies are systematically undervaluing assets. Concessions have been made on terms that appear to generate large profits for foreign investors.’ And this while the Congolese are one of the world’s poorest populations.

Kofi Annan has said that ‘We [Africa] are not getting the revenues we deserve, often because of either corrupt practices, transfer pricing, tax evasion and all sorts of activities that deprive us of our due.’ Annan explained that Africa can’t remedy this loss of revenue alone: ‘the tax evasion, avoidance, secret bank accounts are problems for the world … so we all need to work together, particularly the G8, as they meet next month, to work to ensure we have a multilateral solution to this crisis.’ Annan described the current situation as akin to ‘taking food off the table of the poor’.

The key to battling corrupt practices that rob African populations of their resource wealth is improvements in the level of transparency and accountability in the resources sector and in the operation of international companies. For example, in Liberia and Guinea, mining contracts can now be scrutinised online by the public, in a bid to curb corruption in the sector.

Annan says he’s encouraged by the international multilateral response to the challenge, including legislation in the US (the Dodd–Frank Act) and Europe requiring extractive companies ‘to meet higher levels of disclosure’. He’s also buoyed by the fact that the British have put international cooperation on taxation on the agenda for the G8 summit meeting to be held next month.

A more prosperous Africa for all is a real possibility, and the international community has the most important role in making it a reality. As a responsible global player and with expertise in the extractive industries, Australia can make a valuable contribution to making sure that those who rob from the poor have nowhere to hide.

In Africa, the mining, oil and gas industries produce seven times the amount that the continent receives in donor aid. There’s a real possibility that sovereign wealth funds could be created to meet the needs and aspirations of future generations, using the huge revenues flowing in from resources sales. Perhaps they could take a form similar to the Norwegian sovereign wealth fund (the Government Pension Fund—Global) or be variations on Australia’s Future Fund. Capturing today’s wealth to help meet tomorrow’s national needs in Africa is an opportunity that shouldn’t be missed.

In conclusion, a final quote from the Africa Progress Panel:

Imagine an African continent where leaders use mineral wealth wisely to fund better health, education, energy, and infrastructure. Africa has oil, gas, platinum, diamonds, cobalt, copper, and more. If we use these resources wisely, they will improve the lives of millions of Africans.

Sabrina Joy Smith is a PhD candidate with the Centre for the Study of the Great Lakes region of Africa at the Institute for Development Studies and Management, Belgium. She is currently based in New South Wales. Infographic courtesy of Africa Progress Report 2013.

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And while all members had participated in the preceding discussions and the associated consensus decisions leading to the presentation of the specific MPAs, when push came to shove, a number of members couldn’t support any of the proposals on the table. The Ice Shelves proposal was withdrawn following strong opposition from some.

Both of the remaining proposals have been through multiple rounds of scientific analysis and provide significant dispensation to existing and future fishing activities, and the EA proposal encourages multiple use for activities consistent with the protection of the values for which the MPAs are being designated. Yet, Russia felt their scientific contribution was not fully reflected in the proposals; China was unsure if there was sufficient science to support the proposals. In addition, there’s a strong push for any MPA to have clear designated expiry date, to ensure that future fishing interests are not constrained.

Article II of CCAMLR establishes conservation and the precautionary and ecosystem approach at the core of CCAMLR’s decisions. This means that conservation objectives can’t be limited by the state of scientific knowledge and that management decisions must take account of uncertainty associated with imperfect knowledge and should be ‘precautionary’ (ie conservative) in the absence of complete knowledge. But increasingly members are choosing to ignore these convention fundamentals and prefer to view CCAMLR as a fisheries management regime.

CCAMLR members did agree to come together for a special session this year in Bremerhaven, Germany prior to their annual meeting in October to attempt to find agreement on the designation of the two MPA proposals before them.

All CCAMLR member governments have an opportunity at a meeting this June to reaffirm their commitment and belief in the basic tenets of the Convention they have signed and to the commitments they’ve made by consensus over the last years to the establishment of a representative system of MPAs.

They’ve shown they’re willing to talk the big talk – now they need to show they can take action – and designate large scale marine reserves and other marine protected areas covering substantial areas in the Convention Area.

As one of the last great wildernesses, the Southern Ocean is an exceptional place and deserves special recognition, not to mention respect and commitment from those governments who have chosen to manage it.

Lyn Goldsworthy is a senior advisor to the Antarctic and Southern Ocean Coalition.

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One issue that spurred particularly heated discussion was Papua which, as Peter and Gary Hogan have previously noted on The Strategist, is an area of potential tension between our countries. While the Indonesian participants acknowledged Australia’s official line of recognising Indonesian sovereignty over Papua, some were wary about our commitment to this position. One speaker noted that although Indonesian officials were aware of the Lombok Treaty’s wording on Papua, regular high-level policy coordination between our sides might assist in making our position even clearer. Others talked about bringing Papua New Guinea into a dialogue with Indonesia to discuss the province and other common strategic issues. What was clear from the sometimes heated exchanges around the table was that such frank discussion reflected the trust and confidence in the room, but this isn’t always apparent in the wider relationship.

As with many dialogues on defence and security in the Asia-Pacific, discussion about the strategic position of China and the United States was prominent. There were diverse views but an opinion common to many was that the US remained central to regional confidence and stability. A number of participants thought that Washington needed to do a better job of explaining its broader strategic purpose. Some also said there needed to be a clearer statement of purpose made for the enhanced cooperation between the US and Australia in our north. Showing that all politics is ultimately local, a number of delegates pointed to perceptions (reportedly held by some in Indonesia) that the US Marine Corps deployment was targeted towards protecting US mining interests in Papua. That proposition would likely bemuse US policy makers in both the Pentagon and State Department, but it points to the deep investment needed to build closer relations and trust.

On China’s rise, many participants are watching developments in the South China Sea very closely, especially with an eye to any potential impacts on the security of sea-borne trade. Many in Indonesia are acutely aware of their country’s growing strategic importance and the way in which geography is creating a greater global interest in the region and its vital sea-lanes. There was deep discussion at the dialogue on how Indonesia should respond to this emerging strategic role. Should Jakarta move away from its traditionally non-aligned approach, or does its current foreign policy settings adequately protect its interests? There was broad endorsement for closer ties with Australia and interest in the possibility that such cooperation might include more joint effort on maritime security. But it would be premature to suggest that there’s widespread agreement as to how the bilateral relationship should be deepened.

One particularly amusing and insightful presentation compared the Australia–Indonesia relationship to a marriage. And if the analogy is right, for reasons of proximity, history, interest and mutual benefit, the case for keeping the marriage of a rather unlikely couple together is very strong: even the best relationships have ups and downs. There remains some cause to wish that the two countries understood each other better but a lack of Indonesian language training in Australia and similarly a lack of a strong Indonesian interest in studying Australia don’t help. But participants agreed that individuals and groups in both countries would continue to highlight differences of interest, if not of values, between the two countries. The challenge for Australia and Indonesia is to learn to love each other with all our faults and differences, rather than to make those blemishes grounds for splitting up.

Peter Jennings is executive director at ASPI, and Natalie Sambhi is an analyst at ASPI and editor of The Strategist. Image credit: Luke Wilson, ASPI.

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There are alternatives. Mercantilists would argue rather than helping individuals, the aim should be building national ‘hard’ power. The national defence industry should primarily seek to create national wealth, as money is fungible and can be used to increase national power in the most efficacious manner. A defence industry strategy would then be focussed on import substitution to the extent that it’s efficient, while exporting as much as possible.

In a different approach, some countries might consider the number of jobs—not their type or value—to be the most important criteria. Having more people gainfully employed can be important for political stability and can help lower income disparities.

Taking a less insular view, countries can use their defence industries as diplomatic tools to build stronger links with other countries. In joining with others there are secondary benefits of economies of scale and sharing R&D costs, but the primary aim which informs the requisite compromises and tradeoffs is to build interdependencies and entrench good relationships. ASEAN member states are tentatively (PDF) going down this path.

Of the departments of state, Treasury is charged to take a whole-of-economy view. An obvious market-centric strategy is to eschew interventionist industry strategies altogether, although current global troubles may commend a risk management alternative. With the global economy inherently prone to financial instability, having a balanced economy can provide greater resilience during the inevitable periodic economic crises. As one sector strikes trouble, another might improve, compensating for any downturn. Australia has strong primary and service industries and strengthening our relatively weak manufacturing sector, of which the defence industry is a significant part (PDF, pages 26-28), might be advantageous in the next economic crisis.

Such a re-balancing logic underpins the UK government’s ‘Plan for Growth‘ to return the country to economic health. In developing manufacturing in today’s globalised world, being part of global supply chains is seen as essential. For several years, Australian defence industry has been able to access Government support for joining such supply chains. This program has been relatively successful in terms of developing Australian manufacturing although it’s of marginal value to Defence. Building F-18 rudder pedals for example is undoubtedly good business, but of little importance for ADF operations.

The Defence Department has the luxury of being able to take a much more focussed approach in considering possible objectives for a defence industry strategy. Defence could potentially adopt an industry development strategy that sought to give ADF warfighters some unique capabilities that provide a distinct combat edge. US ‘black’ programs try to do this for American warfighters and, while some of these are very expensive, other niche areas like electronic or cyber warfare might be affordable. Such a defence industrial strategy almost by definition calls for supporting smart thinking rather than having deep pockets.

Defence has instead embraced strategies aimed at developing industry to maintain and sustain equipment purchased off-shore. There are two broad variations in this: build a national capability to be able to modify equipment on-shore to meet changing operational demands or, more simply, to just replace and sometimes fix broken equipment. The former was in vogue from the 1970s (PDF, para 270–272) until about the first decade of the 21st century (PDF, pages 5–6) when the capability development focus switched to new acquisitions and away from mid-life upgrades.

Over this time the argument has developed that the objective of an Australian defence industry strategy should be maximising ADF combat power and acquisition efficiency—getting the most bang for the defence buck. This idea was neatly encapsulated in the title of Andrew Davies recent blog post ‘Four ships for the price of six?’ which examined the difference between buying from the most efficient overseas source versus building warships on-shore.

There’s a range of objectives that governmental defence industry strategies could be based on and choices have to be made between them. All objectives aren’t equal, and any strategy seeking to embrace several would most likely be incoherent, ineffective and inefficient. At the state and company levels though the objectives are subtly different again, as we’ll discuss next time.

Peter Layton is undertaking a research PhD in grand strategy at UNSW, and has been an associate professor of national security strategy at the US National Defense University. Image courtesy of Flickr user Kookaburra2011.

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