The back-to-barracks hope drew strength from the experience of previous coups in 1987 and 2000, when the military had acted reasonably quickly to hand control back to civilians. The second idea was that Australia and the region had to do everything possible to help any resistance to the coup culture that could be mounted from within Fiji by its people and institutions. The aim was to give as much outside assistance as possible to Fiji’s political parties, the courts, the churches, the chiefs, the media and the various elements of civil society. If Fiji could mount some resistance to the descent into coup-coup land, then the region had to do everything possible to help (hence the steady increase in Australian aid).

Both those ideas have failed. The military and its cronies have entrenched themselves, and the regime has been extraordinarily successful in cowing and controlling other significant elements of Fiji’s society. The Supremo and his useful idiots have got a lot more mileage than they deserved from the old junta jingle that the soldiers had to kill democracy to save democracy; the Fiji version is that the military is slaying the old politics in order to deliver a new, multi-racial democracy. A clearer view of what has befallen Fiji is that one institution of the state has triumphed over all others. And, inevitably, that has allowed the colonels, the cronies and the carpetbaggers to cash in.

To summarise a complex conundrum, here’s a brief description of Fiji’s New Order regime, with links to previous articles that lay out these arguments in more detail. The first concept (or conceit) is to see Bainimarama’s government as having similar elements to the New Order constructed by Suharto in Indonesia. As with Indonesia, Fiji’s New Order is built by a military that proclaims its dual function: to both guard and guide the nation.

Secondly, Bainimarama has been constructing his New Order for 13 years, since his first successful coup in 2000—the George Speight coup attempt was foiled by Bainimarama’s more powerful coup. The construction effort has been shambolic and ad hoc (reflecting the Supremo’s intellect as much as anything) but the cumulative effect is in view. Bainimarama’s one clear achievement over these 13 years has been to place the military at the centre of Fiji’s society, administration and politics. The Supremo’s goal is to entrench himself and the absolute rights and special prerogatives of Fiji’s military.

Thirdly, Fiji’s New Order is to make the logical step of expressing itself as a political as well as a military force. The military is about to show its dominance through the creation of a political party that will see Bainimarama ‘elected’ as Prime Minister. If quote marks can ever have ironic effect, then put them around ‘elected’ in this context. Next year’s election will give the New Order a useful political carapace. With Fiji’s old political parties barred, the military will be able to offer its own version of Suharto’s Golkar Party.

Suharto created Golkar as the regime’s parliamentary vehicle (Golkar from golongan karya, or ‘functional groups’) drawing together hundreds of groups in society: rural workers, labour unions and businesses. Golkar enabled the army to create a party while claiming it was a new form of movement, not tainted by old party politics. The Suva Supremo will have no trouble denouncing the taint of old party politics while introducing his gleaming replacement version.

The Supremo’s sense of entitlement mirrors that of the military he leads. The former Fiji colonel, Jone Baledrokadroka, has written of the ‘inflated corporate self image’ of the military, built especially on its constant deployment on peacekeeping operations for the UN.

One of the unintended consequences of the military’s international experience as a mediator of political tensions was the growing belief that it should perform the same role at home. The demands of peacekeeping inflated the size of the military just as it inflated its view of itself, making the military what Baledrokadroka calls ‘a state within a state.’ Under the Supremo, the boys in uniform have done away with the parallel bit and simply taken over the state.

Baledrokadroka has been keeping count of the number of officers being shifted across to do top government jobs, from heading departments to running state bodies. The recent total he gave me was that 66 military officers are now doing senior civilian jobs across the Fiji Government.

Bainimarama will merely follow the trend he’s imposed when he shifts from being Supremo to become the ‘elected’ Prime Minister. The big questions awaiting Fiji are about the size of the victory delivered to Bainimarama’s version of Golkar and whether the vote will have any impact on the habits and hopes of the New Order. Certainly, the colonels, cronies and carpetbaggers are set to dig in deeper, with their interests legitimised by a ‘popular’ and ‘democratic’ process. The rest of the world will have to take the election at face value, however unlovely the face.

Graeme Dobell is the ASPI journalism fellow. Image courtesy of Flickr user United Nations Photo.

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As Ross Terrill noted in yesterday’s Strategist, ‘abstraction is a perilous approach to the reality of China’. One of the many things to like about Jenny’s study, then, is its lack of American ‘eagles’, Chinese ‘pandas’ or other creatures signifying such abstraction and the use of countries as symbols.

Jenny argues—pretty convincingly I think, and as others have suggested—that there’s little to no evidence of China currently actively seeking to project hard power into the region. As a case in point, PLA-N vessels periodically hosting cocktail parties in South Pacific harbours are generally en route to port visits, or even naval passage exercises, they’ve been invited to in Australian or NZ waters.

And as she’s pointed out elsewhere, China’s aid activities in the region are managed by the Ministry of Commerce more than the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and much of its investment is driven by individual provinces or state owned companies, intended first and foremost to make profits and deliver jobs for Chinese workers rather than systematically advance China’s strategic interests. In that sense, Beijing doesn’t appear determined or fully able to coordinate multifaceted and diffuse Chinese political, business, investment, immigration and military engagement in the South Pacific. Its overall approach appears more haphazard than monolithic or a product of a grand design. Jenny also reminds us that ‘traditional’ powers, including the US and France as well as Australia and NZ, have a large, scalable, regional military presence and reach. And even Exim Bank concessional loans might be aimed at identifying potentially profitable areas to invest trade surpluses, diversify sources of raw materials, and promote engineering businesses, as much as foster influence and prestige.

But while that may provide a useful corrective and reassurance to anyone who thinks the sky is falling, it’ll probably temper more than eliminate the anxieties of professionally pessimistic Strategist readers. The Lowy paper is pretty persuasive that Beijing’s ‘a very long way from approaching Australia’s dominance of the aid, trade and strategic domains in the Pacific Islands region or displacing the US as the dominant military power from the north’. However, those who view China’s rise chiefly through a geo-strategic lens might feel that the fact it poses little challenge to Western primacy or our leadership in the region is a bit beside the point. Put simply, China doesn’t need to try (or even want) to supersede us for its growing local presence, weight and clout to greatly complicate our interests.

Complications in the military arena have been manageable to date. For example, China’s support for Frank Bainimarama doesn’t affect our Fiji options, which are constrained for their own reasons. But in a broader strategic sense, it isn’t so much we need to worry that ‘the Chinese are coming’; they’re already here. For instance, although the scale of Tongan indebtedness to Beijing might not buy the sort of influence fretted over this week, it probably does have potential to spark a more serious re-run of the kind of violence that required a brief stabilisation mission in 2006. And, as Jenny notes, future strategic circumstances could change. Although Chinese-Taiwanese rivalry has been much reduced since the diplomatic truce of 2008, intense political competition could return in a new guise over different issues.

To return to former Secretary Clinton’s comment “the Pacific’s big enough for all of us”, at 85 million square km (nearly a quarter of the world’s ocean) the South Pacific certainly ain’t small. Earlier this week I was more offhand than the idea warranted about suggestions that regional aid projects and military exercises offer a relatively low risk opportunity to encourage cooperation with China. Jenny also notes that the South Pacific Defence Ministers envisage inviting ‘new partners’ to observe regional military exercises in innocuous areas of ‘common interest’. But I think she’s closer to the mark in recommending that future collaboration with China occur ‘in areas that support Pacific Island economic development priorities’ and avoid focusing too much on security cooperation themes and mechanisms. (Notwithstanding our evolving strategic partnership with China, chapter six of the Defence White Paper treats engagement activities in our near neighbourhood pretty gingerly too.)

We can’t, and shouldn’t try to, prevent China assuming growing regional roles. But encouraging a PLA that doesn’t seem to be busting to get comfortable operating in our immediate approaches to do so would be something else altogether. As with Fiji, our guiding principle should be ‘first do no harm’.

Karl Claxton is an analyst at ASPI. Image courtesy of Flickr user roberthuffstutter.

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As Stephen Walt noticed in the 1980s, regional powers don’t decide their alliances based upon the global balance of power but on regional conditions. So either most countries have been getting their security policies wrong, or the balancing theory, designed to explain the behaviour of great power countries, is simply not that relevant for smaller powers. And that’s exactly what we’re seeing in Asia.

Despite expectations, the evidence for balancing/bandwagoning behaviour in our part of the world is underwhelming. Hence the proliferation of terms such as hedging, soft balancing, underbalancing, omni-enmeshment, strategic hedging etc as scholars seek to explain away the divergence between theory and reality. As we all too often forget, great powers and smaller powers worry about very different things. If Australia was a great power country, then Mark would be right and the geopolitical balance would be the essence of our security (though we’d then also have a viable ability to defend our continent). But mid and small sized countries care far more about their immediate region. Thus we’re seeing only moderate re-balancing in Northeast Asia and little more than modernisation in Southeast Asia. Even if the pessimists are right and an Arms Race emerges in Asia, that would simply re-emphasise the primacy smaller states place on reacting to their neighbours rather than using the geopolitical balance to organise their defence choices. No wonder Australia, a country located even farther south and further removed from any potential conflict or coercion is not acting concerned.

Australia has historically been an unusual country: a mid-sized power that has appeared to act based on the global balance of power. But we haven’t done so because of strategic necessity but because of a political (if not emotional) choice, driven by our Empire-inherited worldview and our familial relationship with the largest powers. We may decide to keep acting in this manner, but we shouldn’t confuse the necessary behaviour of great powers with the voluntary behaviour of a regional power. Australia has the luxury of choosing how much the geopolitical balance affects our military spending. This is an important choice, but our ultimate security, just like most regional powers, is based upon issues and circumstances much closer to home.

Andrew Carr is an associate lecturer at the Strategic and Defence Studies Centre at the Australian National University.

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A related theme is that Australia’s strategic edge is likely to diminish. For example, paragraph 2.51 says ‘Over the next three decades, Australia’s relative strategic weight will be challenged as the major Asian states continue to grow their economies and modernise their military forces’. This thought too recurs in the White Paper.

The third principle is the strong preference for operations closer to home over more-distant operations. Paragraphs 3.30 to 3.34 spell this out most clearly, with Task 1 (deter and defeat armed attacks on Australia) and Task 2 (contribute to stability and security in the South Pacific and Timor-Leste) being the determinants of the force structure, and with the resultant defence force being deemed sufficient to meet the needs of Tasks 3 and 4 (contribute to military contingencies elsewhere, with priority given to Southeast Asia). This is classic Defence of Australia stuff, although other parts of the text seem to allow for a greater influence of operations in the nearer reaches of the Indo-Pacific (a new term introduced in this white paper) than previously.

The fourth principle brings together the issues of levels of contingency (and discretion), warning time, and force expansion. Recall the Defence of Australia approach: minor contingencies were credible in the shorter term, but major contingencies would be credible only after an extended period of warning, during which Defence would expand.

With respect to major contingencies, not a lot has changed. Paragraph 5.13 talks of the need to balance resources between current and short-term requirements while retaining a baseline as the foundation for force expansion should strategic circumstances deteriorate. Paragraphs 3.39 and 3.40 elaborate on this, including the need for strong defence intelligence. Paragraph 3.46 reassures us that, in spite of military modernisation in our region, we would still expect substantial warning of a major power attack, although, perversely, paragraph 7.12 cautions that strategic circumstances can change with little warning.

In any event, there’s little force expansion on offer, implying that we’re not in a period of strategic warning. Nevertheless, the commitment to get twelve electronic warfare Growler Super Hornets is important, as is the enhancement of cyber security. Overall, more needs to be done on the analysis behind warning and expansion, as the issue is critical.

The White Paper is less clear on contingencies to which Australia might want to respond in the shorter term. But preparedness is a recurring theme:  paragraph 5.1 recognises it as a ‘key strategic management tool’, and paragraph 5.17 mentions some welcome recent enhancements to Defence’s preparedness management system. Paragraph 5.3 is a cautionary straw in the wind:  ‘Adjustments to preparedness levels … can take effect relatively quickly compared to longer-term basing and force structure decisions’. The discussion of the Reserves (paragraphs 4.32 and 5.18 for example) and how quickly they can be readied for either longer-term or shorter-term contingencies seems incomplete. Overall, the issue of what Defence needs to be prepared for, why, and with what warning, is shaping up to be a battle in itself, and, again, more thought is needed.

To paraphrase Thucydides, White Papers are an armistice in the never-ending war for funding:  they set the rules of engagement for the next few rounds of combat between spending departments and the gatekeepers:  they don’t set out the answers, but they do tell you how to ask consistent questions, and in a way agreed by the other players in national security.  They help progress the inevitable unfinished business.

The White Paper contains a lot of the latter. Further examples include the evolution of the ‘Indo-Pacific Strategic Arc’, Defence diplomacy in the region, and Defence policy for industry and innovation. In the immediate term, however, there’s a pressing need to choose the balance of investment between the current force, its preparedness, and modernisation. For choose read adjust and rebalance. It seems unlikely that Defence can afford to modernise what it has already got, so something has to give. Even if the Government continues to maintain the permanent ADF at about 59,000, there’s still the issue of the size of the post-Afghanistan Army and the allocation of the 59,000 between the three Services. Hard decisions usually don’t make themselves:  let’s hope that Defence has the mechanisms in place to identify what needs to be done and then to get on with it.

Richard Brabin-Smith is a visiting fellow at the Strategic and Defence Studies Centre at the Australian National University. Image courtesy of Defence.

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Away from the bells and whistles of military equipment the White Paper offers a very important discussion on self-reliance. This introduces a reality not evident in previous documents. Past Defence White Papers trumpeted self-reliance as the foundation of our defence. Australia claimed the ability to; act independently, lead military coalitions and make tailored contributions to other activities. Acting independently has always been a fantasy and this White Paper confirms the inevitable; Australia alone can’t defend itself. As a result, we’re a less sovereign nation and severely restrained in making and taking independent decisions and actions. We’ll have to learn how to live with this reality.

The White Paper speaks bravely of our efforts to defend ourselves to the greatest extent possible but acknowledges in the ‘extreme’ we’d depend on direct support from allied combat forces (read America). This presumes they’re willing and able to provide the support.

The important word on the discussion of self-reliance is ‘extreme’. Given the size and nature of our defence force and the deep penetration of US military equipment into the ADF there’s actually very little that Australia could do without US support. It might not be boots on the ground but intelligence, logistic, materiel and technical support will be required for almost any level of conflict. East Timor in 1999 is a classic example. Yes we own the ships and planes, but in reality they can’t operate without the source codes and constant updates of software, navigation and targeting information only available from the US They also need ammunition and maintenance, mostly US sourced. What if the Americans need it themselves for higher priority conflicts or decide not to make it available to us?

The relationship between Australia and America is strong and has worked to the mutual benefit of both countries. It’s hard to imagine a situation where America wouldn’t support Australia (and vice versa) but in the realm of sovereign nations there’s always the potential for divergent national interests. The US and Australia pursued different interests over Irian Jaya in the 1960s and the American view prevailed over ours.

The 2013 White Paper has correctly, if somewhat disingenuously, identified the scale of the problem of Australia achieving military self-reliance. But it is not just ‘extreme’ events where we’d need support. There are very few military situations where Australia could operate independently. The White Paper has done us a favour by highlighting the problem.

Another angle on self-reliance is ensuring that US support will always be available has become an important element of our decision making processes. This involves our interpretation of ANZUS and what some people call making ‘down payments on our defence insurance policy’—US support and involvement when we need it. Are we to make decisions based on our values and sovereign national interests or because we’re concerned that if we don’t help the US in every situation they won’t turn up when we need them?

Another more recent example of restricting our independence is outsourcing decision making. The embedding of HMAS Sydney in the US Seventh Fleet brings Australia closer to conflict in Asia. If conflict broke out in North Korea, Taiwan or in the China Seas it would be difficult for Sydney to avoid being involved. Decisions made by the US to become involved in hostilities will be measured, but do we really want to be involved in the front row of Asian conflict when some of the decisions will be taken by politicians in other nations primed on nationalism and an inability to negotiate in a sensible and constructive manner?

The Defence White Paper of 2013 has given us reason to talk about self-reliance. It’s important that we begin the discussion. For those who don’t like the White Paper, there’s every chance there’ll soon be a new one under a Liberal Government. Sadly, with no firm commitment to a funding increase from them we can’t really expect anything much different from this one.

Peter Leahy is the Director of the National Security Institute at the University of Canberra. He was Chief of Army from 2002 to 2008. Image courtesy of The White House.

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When Defence announced the Commonwealth’s court win in April 2001, it made a couple of observations which must be in the running for a ‘most understated comment in a press release’ award:

Notwithstanding the decision of the Court, Kockums, as the designer of the Collins Class, has a very important role to play in the future support of the submarines.

And:

Although we have been successful in this instance, we sincerely hope that we can move forward and quickly restore the prior mutual respect and strong working relationship that existed between Kockums and the Submarine Project Office.

In fact, court action between the parties dragged on for another three years, finally being settled in June 2004 with payments being made in both directions, in the process greatly complicating Commonwealth plans to sell ASC.

Any evolution of the Collins class, which now has a combination of design and hardware elements originating from Sweden, France, the United States, Australia and other sources, will require a solid basis for handling the complex web of IP rights involved. Without an agreement of the type reached today, that would be a fraught process indeed.

A working relationship needs to be far more than a formal agreement, and time will tell whether the high degree of cooperation required can be maintained. But the parties involved in today’s announcement today should be congratulated for giving us a good chance to avoid a repetition of past problems in what’s bound to be a complex and challenging project.

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

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Africa is a resource-rich continent and Australian companies possess the technical skills and knowledge to successfully participate in business and investment within African states. The White Paper recognises the active role of Australian businesses in Africa and the fact that Australian economic interests in Africa will grow, with accompanying greater levels of Australian investment.

As the White Paper identified, many parts of the African continent remain unstable and insecure, despite the advances made by many African countries in recent years. It’s in Australia’s long-term economic interests to be involved in peacekeeping and stabilisation missions in African states. An important mechanism is Australian cooperation and assistance to African ‘peacekeeping capabilities’ through the African Union and other African sub-regional organisations.

There are a number of transnational security issues to be managed as well. This includes the propensity of fragile and failing states to become havens for Islamic terrorism, as seen in the horn of Africa. The RAN has been an active contributor to international counter-piracy efforts of the horn of Africa, so it’s no surprise that the issue of piracy on both the east and western coasts of Africa and the need to mobilise international efforts to combat it were specifically mentioned. As the white paper acknowledges, Australia is contributing $5 million to the UN Trust Fund for the African-led International Support Mission to Mali (AFISMA) and is developing defence relations that will support efforts like the The African Union Mission to Somalia.

The Defense White Paper confirms the importance of Africa–Australia relations and illustrates the recognition of this amongst Australia’s policy makers. It’s in Australia’s interest to continue engaging in strengthening the capacity of the African Union and other sub-regional African bodies to improve preventative diplomacy on the continent, and address the root causes of instability and insecurity before crises develop. Political stability and security in African states is of paramount importance for Australian business and investment in the region. Australian companies can further the development of a stable environment by acting in the best interests of African populations, with transparency and accountability as top priorities. In turn this will better enable democratic consolidation, which will promote stability and security. A more secure Africa is one in which Australian engagement can flourish and it’s in Australia’s long term economic and political interest to include Africa on Australia’s defence agenda. The 2013 Defence White Paper establishes an important precedent.

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. Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

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Today some Australians erect China as a symbol of a dawning Asian Century. I was asked in a radio interview this morning if China is the key to the Asian Century envisaged by PM Gillard. Such a question overlooks the challenges Beijing faces with many tensions, territorial disputes and contradictions with other countries in Asia (more than it has with Europe or the US). Beijing would have a tough time presiding over Asia and its history in Asia should give pause to folk who welcome China as replacement for the US in the Asia–Pacific. China was intermittently an imperial power in East Asia, not least in the climactic Qing Dynasty.

During the Marshall Mission to China in the 1940s which sought to reconcile Mao Zedong and Chiang Kai-shek, General Marshall’s chief aide wrote home to his wife from Nanjing: “It seems that for time beyond man’s recollection, China has been the desire and design of people outside China. What that has to do with China, as China is today, is another question, but the fact remains that many nations have their eye on this place out here”. In truth, China isn’t a symbol of anything; it’s just multifaceted China. It’s hazardous to essentialise China into a symbol of guilt, hope or fear.

If we’re to choose a context for China’s rise, the best might be ‘modernising China is a major ingredient in globalisation’. The coincidence of enlightened post-Mao Chinese development policies and growing international economic interdependence is of great historical importance to the Asia Pacific. This actual China is distant from the ‘China’s past’ that Jacques calls the world’s future. Refreshingly, China’s current renaissance draws on ideas and resources from around the globe and across the political spectrum. China’s new civilisation will be one ingredient in globalised evolution, but not its heart. China‘s urban youth by no means focus on China’s past; why should Australian youth do so? The 21^st century will not be China’s; it will not be any one country’s. That is, unless globalisation stalls, technology goes to sleep, and young people cease to trend cosmopolitan.

This post is excerpted from the author’s ASPI Strategy report ‘Facing the Dragon: China policy in a new era‘.

Ross Terrill of Harvard’s Centre for Chinese Studies is a visiting international senior fellow at ASPI. Image courtesy of DFAT.

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The budget papers also tell a story about the management of the Defence workforce. When the 2012-13 budget was brought down in May of last year, the aim was to have 58,636 full-time ADF personnel. Clearly recruitment has failed to make up for separations, and the additional estimates figure in February this year was 56,751—a shortfall of 1,885 people. The ‘increase’ in full-time ADF personnel being reported this morning as a 2013-14 budget measure is in fact nothing more than a re-stating of last year’s failed aspiration.

Table 3. The Defence workforce

One final observation is the winding down of operations is showing up in the budget figures. Last year’s budget (as amended at additional estimates in February) included $1.530 billion for operations, including $1.190 billion for Operation Slipper in Afghanistan. This year’s estimate is $918.5 million, with Afghanistan accounting for $874.9 million.

But if there’s a lesson we can draw from the last three Defence budgets (or for that matter the overall federal budget), it’s that no government can tie the hands of the Treasurer who next steps up to the dispatch box on budget night. We can go through the entrails of this year’s budget if we want, but next year might see a completely different set of externalities, government priorities, or both. In many ways, this makes the business of planning for multi-year procurements of capabilities that will span decades extremely difficult. But it’s the form of executive government that we have, and all departments have to live with it.

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

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The reality is that the long term budget outlook is still well short of the level of funding needed to deliver on the ambitious defence equipment plans articulated in the 2009 white paper as modified and added to by the 2013 effort. Beyond the forward estimates the government has provided what it describes as six years of ‘additional funding guidance’—in essence back of envelope advice saying there will be approximately $220 billion available between 2017–18 to 2022–23. Reading Stephen Smith’s budget overview statement it’s clear that the really big costs associated with the new submarine program and the Joint Strike Fighter acquisition only begin to bite within that time frame. But that little tail you see is actually attached to one really big dog, just panting outside of the six year guidance. If you buy the tail the rest of the dog won’t come for free.

Mark Thomson’s initial estimate is that defence spending will hover between 1.6 and 1.7% of GDP for the six years after 2016–17 in effect that means the ‘aspiration’ to lift defence spending to two per cent of GDP remains a very distant goal—as many as four federal elections away. The two percent figure is about as believable as the aspiration to acquire twelve submarines. The budget has the effect of delaying somewhat the inevitable day when hard decisions will have to be made between capability ambitions and financial realities, but that moment can’t be put off forever.

A small reduction of Defence public service numbers was expected, with 327 civilian staff cut, but there is also a massive increase of 1524 for the ADF. It will take closer analysis to understand why the ADF growth is necessary at a time when the three largest overseas operations are winding up. Long gone is that day when the quest for efficiencies means that ADF positions were civilianised to harvest cost savings in the order of 20 to 30%. Of course no government ever lost a vote cutting numbers of public servants, but the balance between APS and ADF is an important variable in any approach to making internal savings.

None of the above will have as much impact in Russell Hill as the result of two announcements that will presumably be cheered in the rest of the country. Finance Minister Penny Wong announced that in the quest for efficiency the amount of space allocated to public servants in new office space will be reduced from 16 to 14 square meters. Is that a cry of ‘if only’ I hear from across Lake Burley Griffin? The decision to tax car parking space within the Parliamentary Triangle will impact on some 9000 public servants and others including those at Russell Offices—to the tune of $11 dollars each a day. Will ADF personnel seek an exemption or a car parking allowance? Submarines may come and go, but car parking problems in Defence is the benchmark of worker satisfaction for much of Canberra—not that anyone outside the ACT will see that as a problem. See you on the buses!

Peter Jennings is Executive Director of the Australian Strategic Policy Institute. Image courtesy of Flickr user Michael Loke.

Note: a previous version of this post relied on news reporting, and has been amended to reflect the actual budget figures.

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First, consider the money. The projected cost of an all-new 4,000 tonne conventional boat is estimated by ASPI to be over A$3 billion, which includes all project costs. This is approximately the same as the sail-away cost of a much larger Virginia class nuclear submarine off an established production line, and could even be more than a French or British nuclear submarine which would almost certainly sail away for less than $2 billion. Defence would still have to purchase the support systems to get the boats into Australian service, but the industrial and program costs sunk into getting a first-in-class to work would be borne by someone else.

Besides being less risky to procure, these nuclear-powered vessels would be far more powerful than conventionally-powered boats. They could arrive on station faster, stay there longer, carry more weapons, and fight more aggressively. As a deterrent, they’d be many times more formidable.

The Royal Australian Navy might play a simple war game once the new design matures. They could invite a retired American submarine captain over and say : “Sir, to achieve a specific objective in the middle of the Pacific or Indian oceans you have a straight choice between having, under your command, one single nuclear-powered boat, or ‘X’ number of our Collins Mk.II?” Even at this distance, his ‘X’ is likely to be two or three. Expressed as an opportunity cost in dollars, the answer is horrendous.

The objections to going nuclear are clear; but as the challenges of Collins Mk.II become less opaque, the question will be: did the Government diligently and unemotionally address them?

If the over-riding justification for an Australia-built fleet is operational independence, then Government should look squarely at what the current fleet delivers. Only one third of the Collins fleet is generally seaworthy. Refitting them takes four to five times the work required on similar comparable European vessels. And upgrading them requires US help for the most complex elements—the sensors, combat system and weapons.

Australia could almost certainly sustain a fleet of nuclear boats to a higher level of operational availability than currently possible. Neither the US nor UK boats ever need refuelling. The core is closed for the lifetime of the submarine, so the additional nuclear engineering required for through-life support is modest. Establishing a first-class nuclear-boat maintenance facility in Australia would be expensive, but pales beside the gargantuan cost of re-launching the Australian Submarine Corporate (ASC) as a construction yard.

Alternatively, Australia could avoid the cost and political risk of building maintenance facilities here, and instead operate the boats on a similar cycle to the United States Navy’s Guam-based submarines. This would mean the submarines having only a small maintenance footprint here and returning to US West Coast for periodic refits, which is pretty much how the RAAF maintains its fleet of C-17 strategic transports.

In either case, you don’t need a construction yard to maintain a submarine. The activities are quite different. British nuclear boats never re-visit the Barrow yard where they are built.

Nor would the fact Australia’s boats were foreign-built boats necessarily diminish the country’s strategic independence. There’s a fundamental difference between depending on an ally to come to your aid (which, in extremis, Australia does now) and depending on your ally not to obstruct you from paying to defend yourself. That’s why the UK ultimately trusts US not to abuse its position as the supplier–owner of its Trident ballistic missiles, on which the UK’s independent deterrent relies.

Does the case against nuclear boats ultimately rest, then, on Australian jobs foregone? That flank, too, is exposed. Re-booting ASC will merely kick-start thousands of careers that will go nowhere once each design and construction phase is complete. Better, surely, to play the international defence procurement game, and trade jobs on submarines for offsets in industries where Australia can build competitive advantage—and careers with a future.

The stakes couldn’t be higher. Asia is rising and submarines will become Australia’s primary defence asset for many decades. For now, the government has passed on the one weapon that could deliver genuine independent strategic security. But like a pair of lethal mines, cost and capability are floating right in the path Australia’s home-grown subs. This won’t be the last we hear of Australia’s nuclear option.

Phil Radford is a freelance writer, based in Sydney. He specialises in naval strategy and defence procurement. Image courtesy of Flickr user Defence Images.

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Australian’s new plan has similar intentions and rationale to Canada’s National Shipbuilding Procurement Strategy (NSPS) announced in 2010, which aims to bolster economic growth, support industry, and maximize Canadian jobs.  There have already been some cost increases, delays and capability reductions, but an informed NSPS supporter notes that all defence projects deliver less than promised, are late and over budget so the NSPS shouldn’t be judged too harshly on these matters.

Both countries seek to manipulate the market place to build a viable national naval shipbuilding industry.  In deliberately taking such an interventionist approach and picking winners, several questions arise.  If the driving factor is jobs, is the shipbuilding sector the best place to invest?  The DMO paper observes there are a diminishing number of warship suppliers worldwide, suggesting a sunset industry.  This is particularly evident in the submarine market with ‘the future of current players in the market uncertain’ (p36).  Eschewing purchases from existing firms in this competitive market, Australia will instead apparently invest in creating another submarine maker with an uncertain future.

There are some hopes for export sales scattered throughout the DMO proposal.  Exports can help gain improved economies of scale and continuity of work but might be problematic.  DMO notes several pitfalls; there are significant export restrictions on submarines, the few countries purchasing them want small boats, there are several established manufacturers and the market is distorted by national subsidies (p35-37).  Export sales of any Australian manufactured large submarine appear very doubtful.  The warship market also appears to be languishing. While the designer of Australia’s new Air Warfare Destroyers and Landing Ships is held up as a model, Navantia is government owned (by the Spanish Department of Finance), financially supported and heavily subsidised.

The next fallback is usually opportunities in the civil sector. While civilian shipbuilding is a tough market, Navantia has had some success here.  Spanish shipbuilding at the moment however is having difficulties with disputes with other EU partners over subsidies required to keep the industry commercially viable.

To allow an Australian shipbuilding industry to compete for exports and civil projects, ongoing financial support seems likely to be necessary—a shipbuilding industry isn’t just for Christmas!  A fundamental pre-condition though might be significant export restriction relaxation, but that has the potential downside of worrying countries transferring technology to us, like the US, who could fear leakage of sensitive information or even helping a new competitor.

Stepping down to portfolio level from from the national aim of investing in sustainable job creation, is naval shipbuilding the best industry for Defence to be investing in?  Especially when  the shipbuilding concerned is structures manufacture, rather than the development of the systems that make for effective warfighting vessels.  Is building structures leading edge technology that gives the ADF a war-winning advantage?

Certainly a ship’s combat systems will, but this plan does not focus on that. Australian ships instead use mostly imported combat systems, especially from the US.  The Air Warfare Destroyer project was driven by the acquisition of the Lockheed Martin Aegis combat system, not ship manufacture concerns.  An alternative Australian investment path is suggested by the development by CEA Technologies of leading edge radar technologies that also have export and civil sector opportunities.  Is this a better defence industry sector to support from a war fighting perspective, and is it more viable long-term?

There’s a further alternative.  Rather than picking winners and investing in a particular sector, government support could be more broadly based.  SMEs are often touted as the innovators of the industry, working in leading-edge technologies and often in both the defence and civil field.    As the Defence market progressively evolves and new technologies and demands arise, the inherently nimble SMEs may be a surer bet.  Some—like CEA—might succeed brilliantly. It might amount to deciding whether a broadly based SME support strategy or a narrow all-the-eggs-in-one industry sector basket is the better approach.

The final alternative would be to leave the future of naval shipbuilding to the market. The result might be no naval shipbuilding industry at all, but there’s a school of thought that says that the consequences of that wouldn’t be as dire as the industry’s supporters suggest.  Arguably the Air Force is as technology intensive as the Navy and it seems to maintain advanced capabilities without an indigenous industry comparable to naval shipbuilding.

Economists will doubtless be concerned over the impact on effective competition of the new naval shipbuilding approach.  Before this though there are strategic issues at the national and Defence level.  Is this the best approach or would some more thought yield a bigger return on our investment?

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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