Deterrence has become the centrepiece of Australian strategic thinking, but its value has become more political than strategic. The focus on deterrence has advantages in terms of messaging, but this has tended to muddy Australia’s strategic thinking, obscuring the need to establish causal relationships between force design, posture and outcomes.

British academic Lawrence Freedman has written ‘Deterrence is a “goldilocks” concept, not too hot and not too cold.’ Although written from a European perspective in the context of the war in Ukraine, these words are equally applicable to the Australian context.

Freedman contends that the word ‘deterrence’ sends out just the right kind of message for a Western liberal democracy. ‘It implies a defensive intent without weakness, a determination to prevent aggression without being reckless …. There is no dishonour in deterrence.’

The word is also wonderfully vague. Nobody can object to having more deterrence. What’s more, it can be bandied around without being specific about whom you are deterring from doing what and without talking about scary concepts such as actual fighting. This fuzziness is especially useful for a country whose most likely adversary is also its primary trading partner.

The vagueness of deterrence has led to its rise as an all-purpose strategy. It has become a central concept in recent policy documents in spite, or perhaps because, of its lack of specificity.

On one level, deterrence makes a lot of sense for Australia. After all, we are what would have traditionally been called a status quo power—broadly happy with our lot and keen to avoid any conflict.

However, this obsession with deterrence is also problematic. This is especially the case for a nation without nuclear weapons and therefore unable to rely on classic Cold War deterrence, which is deterrence by punishment.

Instead, Australia is going for what is usually described as deterrence by denial. This is where a nation seeks to achieve deterrence through ‘having military forces which can block the enemy’s military forces from making territorial gains’, or at least imposing such costs as to dissuade them from trying.

In its National Defence Strategy (NDS), Australia adopted a strategy of denial to achieve deterrence. This approach is, in fact, not particularly novel; previous Defence white papers have consistently discussed the need to be able to ‘deter, deny or defeat’ attacks. However, recent framing has prioritised deterrence above all else.

The NDS adopts the language of ‘shape, deter and respond’ originally used in the 2020 Defence Strategic Update, but adds that ‘whilst previously these objectives had been given equal weight in Australia’s strategic settings, deterrence is now Australia’s primary strategic defence objective’.

On first reading this sounds great, but a closer examination reveals problems. Australia has agency in its ability to respond, and to a slightly lesser extent in its ability to shape. But Australia has very little agency in its ability to deter. Whether Australia’s deterrence posture works will be decided in Beijing, not in Canberra.

Deterrence, therefore, is an outcome. Deterring China from aggressive acts will be a product of Australia’s ability to shape the region in such a way as to make aggressive actions unappealing, and to respond in a credible way if Beijing decides to act anyway.

What the NDS is therefore saying is that Australia should be prioritising the outcome of its strategic approach over the inputs necessary to achieve that outcome—it is nonsensical.

The focus on deterrence has value to politicians because of its innate slipperiness. This is dangerous when it comes to strategic thinking. It also distracts attention away from some of the more challenging realities of defence debates.

Deterrence, especially conventional deterrence or deterrence by denial, regularly fails. History is littered with examples where states have either misread deterrence signals or simply ignored them. Furthermore, deterrence only ever works if the adversary believes that you are willing to fight.

Both aspects highlight that no matter how much politicians and officials use the vague language of deterrence, Australia’s security ultimately depends on the willingness of its men and women to fight for its national interests and their way of life. If our leaders are sincere in their statements about the seriousness of the strategic circumstances, it is time that they have an honest discussion of what that actually means.

There has been very little public discussion of the contingencies which underpin Australian strategic planning. The government and the military have notably avoided any discussion of the realities of a potential conflict, whether that be in terms of the factors driving Australian involvement, the deployment of Australian forces, or the impact on the military and the country more widely. This stands in marked contrast to relatively open discussion elsewhere, including in the United States.

Deterrence has a place in the Australian strategic lexicon, but its recent fetishisation does no one any favours. It has confused public communication and muddied Australian strategic thinking.

With work underway on the next iteration of the NDS it is time to refocus on the issues that Australia can control. The priority should be on engaging with partners to shape the region and enhancing the ability of the Australian Defence Force to respond to the most likely contingencies. If this is done well, Australia will maximise its chance of deterring its adversaries, and ensure it is best placed to respond if that deterrence fails. We cannot, and should not, ask for more.