Alarmism makes for powerful headlines, but it’s a poor basis for strategy. Claims that Pacific island nations are at risk of becoming ‘narco-states’ may have captured attention in the past few weeks, but they risk distorting the real nature of organised crime in the region. What’s needed is a far more nuanced understanding grounded in economics, geography and decades of law enforcement experience across Australia, New Zealand and the Pacific.
Steve Symon, chair of New Zealand’s Ministerial Advisory Group on transnational and serious organised crime, warned last week that the Pacific was becoming a hub for illicit drug production and trafficking, making comparisons with Latin America and its cartel-dominated countries. Yet this framing doesn’t account for how transnational serious and organised crime actually works. The Pacific’s criminal economies are not driven by vast consumer markets or industrial-scale drug production. Instead, they exist at the intersection of global supply chains, geography and vulnerability, serving as conduits rather than destinations.
In the context of transnational serious and organised crime, illicit drug markets can be mapped across two fundamental dimensions: volume and profit margin. Thailand’s market for the drug yaba, using low-purity methamphetamine, is a high-volume, low-profit environment. The United States represents high volume with moderate profits. Australia, by contrast, is a mid-volume but high-profit market, where traffickers can earn up to 11 times the wholesale price of methamphetamine sold in Southeast Asia. The Pacific, however, is neither a high-volume nor a high-profit region. Its smaller populations and lower per-capita incomes make it unattractive as a primary retail destination for drug syndicates.
That doesn’t mean the region is untouched. Drugs transiting through the Pacific inevitably bleed into local markets, with tragic social effects. But for organised criminals making rational business decisions, the calculus is clear: Australia and New Zealand offer the biggest returns, while Pacific nations offer pathways to move product and launder money. So the region’s greatest vulnerabilities lie not in consumption but in transhipment, corruption and financial opacity.
This reality matters because it changes the policy prescription. Labelling Pacific nations as emerging narco-states implies that the solution lies in dismantling domestic cartels or eradicating mass addiction. However, the real task is to build integrity, transparency and maritime enforcement capabilities. The Pacific’s geography, vast exclusive economic zones, limited patrol assets and sparse radar coverage create a haven for smugglers. Cocaine shipments, typically from Latin America, can easily transit through unmonitored routes.
The challenge is compounded by corruption and weak financial oversight. Even small bribes or facilitation payments can ensure a shipment’s safe passage. Money-laundering networks, often established with the assistance of foreign entities, exploit limited regulatory reach to obscure illicit profits. These aren’t uniquely Pacific problems; they mirror vulnerabilities across small, open economies globally, but resource constraints and external criminal influence amplify them.
Australia and New Zealand have long invested heavily in building regional law enforcement capacity. The Australian Federal Police, New Zealand Police and regional institutions have trained thousands of Pacific officers, equipped forensic laboratories and supported joint task forces. This partnership model, built on community policing and shared values, not coercion, is a quiet success story. To suggest that the Pacific is sliding inexorably toward narco-state status is to dismiss decades of collaborative progress.
That’s not to say either Canberra or Wellington can afford complacency. Demand for methamphetamine, cocaine and other high-value drugs in Australia and New Zealand continues to fuel the very transnational networks exploiting the Pacific. While the Pacific may bear the collateral consequences of transit and corruption, the engine of demand remains firmly rooted within developed economies.
Similarly, commentary linking deportations from Australia and New Zealand to rising Pacific organised crime often misses the mark. Deportees aren’t cartel masterminds; they’re typically violent or repeat offenders who pose risks to domestic safety. Both governments are within their rights to prioritise community protection. But more can be done to support rehabilitation and reintegration programs for returnees, ensuring they don’t become conduits for foreign criminal networks. This is an area where regional cooperation, rather than rhetoric, could make a tangible difference.
Then there is the emerging spectre of fentanyl and synthetic opioids. These drugs have devastated the US, and there are valid concerns about their potential appearance in the Pacific. But Australia’s experience offers a lesson in restraint. Despite years of dire predictions, fentanyl abuse remains rare outside medical diversion channels. The same was true of crack cocaine in the 1990s and novel psychoactive substances in the 2010s. Vigilance is essential, but panic isn’t policy.
The Pacific’s struggle with organised crime is real but misdiagnosed. It’s not about narco-states; it’s about narco-flows. The region’s economies, geography and institutions make it vulnerable as a conduit, not a consumer. Strengthening port security, financial intelligence and anti-corruption systems will yield greater dividends than chasing the illusion of local cartels. Australia and New Zealand must recognise that their domestic appetite for drugs drives these transnational markets.
The path forward lies in rejecting simplistic narratives and embracing strategic nuance. The Pacific isn’t on the verge of collapse; it’s a region navigating the same pressures that define every global trade route, licit or otherwise. Our collective responsibility is to support it through capacity building, shared intelligence and mutual accountability.