Why America should welcome China’s attempt to spy on RIMPAC

RIMPAC 2014

 

It has recently been reported that China has sent a surveillance vessel to observe the RIMPAC exercise in which Beijing is participating for the first time.

Little open source information is available about the Dongdiao-class (Type 815) intelligence collection/missile range instrumentation ship, but Jane’s has viewed material that suggests the class possesses “high-technology radio signal gathering and processing equipment”.  As part of its formal presence, the PLA-N has sent a missile destroyer, a missile frigate, a supply ship and the Peace Ark hospital ship.

While some have called on China to be banned from participating in future RIMPAC exercises, Washington should welcome Beijing’s clumsy move.  By acknowledging China’s right to conduct electronic surveillance from within Hawaii’s exclusive economic zone and by not attempting to impede it, Washington is supporting a global norm that China has sought to dispute, most notably illustrated by the 2009 incident in which Chinese vessels harassed the USNS Impeccable in international waters.

By not impeding the PLA-N’s surveillance ship, America is making it more difficult for Beijing to obstruct vessels in waters off the Chinese coast.  This will not only strengthen the U.S. position,  but will benefit regional states in Asia which have experienced harassment by Chinese vessels.

Japan and Collective Self-Defence

Japan’s cabinet has approved a reinterpretation of its constitutional restrictions on its use of armed force.  The new interpretation has cleared the way – pending parliamentary ratification – for collective self-defence, the use of force to defend not only Japan but its allies.

It’s important to note, however, that some significant caveats will remain attached to Japan’s interpretation of collective defence.  Firstly, any attack on an allied country must clearly endanger Japan’s survival or severely impinge upon Japanese citizens’ lives, liberty and pursuit of happiness.  Secondly, the use of force must be the only way to repel the attack on Japan’s ally and protect Japanese citizens.  Thirdly, any use of force must be limited to the minimum required level.

While such caveats certainly offer room for manoeuvre, this reform is not evidence of the Japanese remilitarisation that Beijing and Seoul often identify in the most routine of Japanese military decisions.

Nevertheless, the move has not been without controversy.  One man set himself alight in Tokyo in protest while others have protested more soberly.  Abroad, China has, predictably, expressed outrage while South Korea has also expressed concern.

This reform, however, is a fillip for the U.S. which has long encouraged Japan to play a greater security role in its region.  Countries such as Australia also stand to benefit from a more normal Japanese defence posture.  Canberra is interested in acquiring Japanese submarine technology, or even completed submarines.

It’s difficult to emphasise how symbolically important Tokyo’s decision is.  In the wake of the Second World War, Japan adopted the Yoshida Doctrine, named after its formidable postwar Premier, Yoshida Shigeru.  This approach, which has remained hugely influential, demands that Japan focus on economic development while maintaining the relatively lightweight Japan Self-Defence Forces (JSDF).  To ensure its security, Japan has accommodated a substantial U.S. military presence.

While some in Washington accused Tokyo of free-riding throughout the Cold War, Japan’s grand strategy was undoubtedly successful.  In the early postwar years it was feared by it neighbours, despite its impoverished circumstances.  The doctrine guided Japan through a difficult period, enriching it and nurturing its status as a solid global citizen.  Why, then, has Tokyo decided to modify its stance?

The primary reason is China.  Beijing’s impressive military modernisation, combined with its increasing willingness to assert its expansive maritime claims, has focused minds in Tokyo.  By permitting the JSDF to come to the aid of its allies, even in the absence of a direct attack on Japan, Tokyo has changed Beijing’s strategic calculus and signalled its intent to balance against China.

Tokyo’s decision also hints at its doubts about Washington’s ability to maintain its primacy in Asia.  Though the U.S. will remain the strongest power in Asia for some time, Beijing is closing the gap at an impressive rate.  China will probably never be able to establish Chinese primacy in Asia, but its ability to contest American primacy is growing.  By freeing the JSDF to come to the aid of its allies, Tokyo is supporting the U.S. primacy that has guaranteed Japanese security for decades.

Domestic politics has also played a role in this decision.  Prime Minister Shinzo Abe has driven this reinterpretation which reflects his own nationalist views.  It is easily reconciled with his desire for Japan to be a normal nation, proud of its history and able to unashamedly wield all instruments of statecraft commensurate with its economic power.

While this reinterpretation won’t change Asia’s strategic environment in the short-term, it is a significant event illustrating the danger of security dilemmas in Asia.  As Beijing has increased its military strength, inculcated anti-Japanese nationalism as a way to legitimise the Communist Party’s continued rule, and sought to expand its maritime borders in an attempt to increase its internal and external security, it has made Japan feel less secure.

This has led to Tokyo’s decision to reinterpret its constitutional restrictions on the use of force, a decision which is likely to make Beijing feel less secure and seek to increase its efforts to maximise its security.  Such a course of action will only make Japan feel even less secure, causing it to seek to increase its security, and so on.  It’s a dangerous dynamic and is likely to lead to a less stable Asia.

It’s important to note that war is not inevitable, or even particularly likely, at least in the immediate future.  The problem is that when nations begin to view their relationship in zero-sum terms, it’s difficult to step back and seek mutually beneficial compromises.  Nobody wants to have their restraint misinterpreted as weakness.

Ideally, all parties would acknowledge the concerns of others and seek to ameliorate them.  Beijing (and Seoul) should acknowledge that since 1945 Japan has been a model international citizen, instrumental in their development.  They should admit that Japan is not about to go on a rampage across Asia and has a right to provide both for its own security and the security of its allies.  Beijing should also recognise that its rapid military modernisation, opaque intentions and increasing assertiveness lead its neighbours to fear the worst about its long-term trajectory.

Tokyo, meanwhile, ought to acknowledge the impact that visits by its senior leaders to the Yasukuni Shrine have on public opinion in China and South Korea and refrain from attending.  It should also cease to equivocate on its wartime atrocities, particularly its use of Korean ‘comfort women’.

Unfortunately, as Asia tranforms from a region characterised by U.S. primacy to one in which balancing behaviour is increasingly open, recognising the legitimate grievances and rights of other parties seems to be becoming ever more difficult.

Japanese Submarines for Australia?

JS_Souryu_Class_SS_in_KOBE

A recent report has suggested that Japan may sell submarine technology or even, in what would represent a sea change in Tokyo’s defence policy, an entire fleet of vessels to Australia.  Canberra is currently considering how to replace its existing Collins class submarine and has expressed an interest in acquiring Japanese submarine technology in recent years.  If such a transfer takes places, both countries would reap some benefits.  However, it may place Canberra in an awkward position in the future should, as has been reported, Tokyo insist on some kind of formal alliance in order to seal the deal.

Firstly, from a financial perspective, a Japanese decision to sell Soryu class boats to Australia would provide a boost to its manufacturers, Mitsubishi Heavy Industries and the Kawasaki Shipbuilding Corporation.  Additional orders would also drive down the manufacturing cost, meaning that Tokyo and Canberra would have to shell out less cash to purchase future boats.

Australia would also benefit by acquiring a boat in all likelihood superior to anything that it could independently design and construct. The problems surrounding the Collins class submarine offers plentiful evidence of the challenges associated with designing and building such a complex piece of equipment.

Canberra’s attraction to the Soryu is therefore understandable.  It would obtain a proven, capable platform for substantially less than it would cost to construct an indigenously designed replacement for the Collins.  Better and cheaper?  It should be a no brainer.

From a strategic perspective, however, the decision is not so clear cut.  Reports suggest Tokyo would insist on some kind of formal alliance arrangement.  This is not unreasonable.  Both Japan and Australia are liberal democracies, share a strong economic relationship and enjoy extensive people-to-people ties.  However, though shared values may make an alliance easier to sustain, alliances are rarely founded on them.

What really matters are interests.  Australia, for example, is not straining to ally with Sweden; despite the many values both countries share, they have few common pressing interests.  In contrast, after Nixon went to China, Washington and Beijing developed a quasi-alliance, not because they shared common values, but because they had a common interest in containing the Soviet Union.

When we consider Tokyo and Canberra’s interests, the picture is a little murkier.  As Chinese power grows, Japan is casting around for all the friends it can find.  This is at the root of Shinzo Abe’s desire to strengthen Tokyo’s alliance with the U.S., loosen Japan’s constitutional restriction on the use of force, and cultivate ties with countries such as India, Vietnam, the Philippines and Australia.

This is clearly in Japan’s interests, but less clearly in Australia’s interests.  Before formally allying with Japan, Canberra should consider the possible consequences.  China and Japan are currently engaged in escalating competition in the East China Sea as they jockey for position around the Senkaku (Diaoyu to the Chinese) Islands.  While war is not imminent, it would be foolish to assume that it is impossible.  It is all too easy to envisage a scenario in which a rash decision made by a commander on the scene could lead to a clash that neither side wants but from which both may find it difficult to step back.

Should the worst happen, Japan would look to its allies for support and would expect them to honour their commitments.  If Australia was in a formal alliance with Japan, this would place Canberra in an extremely difficult decision.  Would it decide to contribute to military efforts directed against China, or would it disown its alliance with Japan?

This situation is not particularly likely, at least in the short term, but it illustrates the calculations that must be made before entering into such an arrangement with Tokyo.  Of course, Australian policymakers may decide that a decision to move closer to Japan may contribute toward deterring Beijing from upping the ante in the East China Sea.  Canberra certainly has an interest in maintaining the status quo in Asia and has no desire to see Beijing redraw maritime borders by the use, or threatened use, of force.

It is likely, however, that by moving closer to Japan, Canberra would exacerbate Beijing’s fear of containment, perhaps encouraging greater Chinese assertiveness in the future.  The Soryu would certainly boost Australia’s military capability, but any decision to acquire it must take into account the risk of getting dragged into conflicts Canberra may prefer to avoid and whether closer ties with Japan would serve Australia’s greater interest in helping to peacefully integrate China into the existing regional order.

Is Australia thinking about operating an aircraft carrier?

The eagle-eyed Greg Sheridan and Sam Roggeveen recently noted that the Australian Prime Minister, Tony Abbot, when announcing a decision to purchase 58 F-35s, hinted that future purchases may be of a different variant to the F-35As Australia has already ordered.

Abbot’s remark implies that Canberra may be considering the possibility of acquiring the F-35B variant (the short takeoff/vertical landing incarnation of the aircraft) suggesting that Australia is pondering the possibility of using at least one of its new LHDs as an aircraft carrier.

While no official announcement has been made to this effect, Abbot’s comment is too intriguing to ignore.  Should Australia acquire an aircraft carrier capability?  If Canberra decides to do so, what would be the strategic implications?

First, the price tag.  Establishing the unit price of the F-35B is a thankless task.  Lockheed Martin, for example, claims that a F-35B (excluding the engine!) will cost around US$104m (approx. AUD$111m) while other estimates suggest the cost may be as high as US$252m (approx. AUD$269m).  Whatever the ultimate cost, these figures serve to emphasise that acquiring an aircraft carrier capability would be extremely expensive.  Given Canberra’s relatively small defence budget, developing this capability would absorb a significant proportion of its finances.

Recently trends also advise caution.  Due to the proliferation of C4ISR capabilities, submarines and anti-ship missiles in Australia’s region, large surface ships have never been easier to locate and attack.  Developing a carrier capability would see Canberra placing a lot of its defence eggs in one slow-moving, highly sinkable basket.

In such an environment, a fleet composed of submarines and smaller, more numerous surface ships seems a better option for the defence of Australia.  Such a fleet would severely complicate any attempt to project force against the continent’s northern approaches.

However, the utility of an aircraft carrier lies less in its ability to defend its homeland than to project force against someone else’s.  By announcing its intention to operate a carrier, Canberra would be sending a strategic message to the region.  Regional states would conclude that Australia envisions the possibility of fighting a high-intensity war in Asia.

China, as highlighted by its response to Canberra’s 2009 Defence White Paper, would likely react badly to such an announcement, further complicating attempts to engage Beijing on issues such as confidence-building and transparency.  Indonesia, Australia’s closest neighbour of consequence, would also be concerned by a capability that would extend Australia’s ability to use strike aircraft over Indonesian territory.  This would further complicate attempts to build a stronger relationship with Jakarta.

Regardless of these arguments against operating an aircraft carrier, an obvious question presents itself: could Australia operate one?  Beyond the technical and logistical difficulties of operating such a vessel, the ship itself must be protected and sustained.  This would require the Navy to devote submarines, destroyers and supply vessels to escorting the carrier.  Given Australia’s limited defence budget, this would risk turning the bulk of the Navy into a carrier escort service, limiting its ability to tackle numerous simultaneous missions.

It’s now useful to consider how and where such a capability would be used.  An aircraft carrier could contribute to humanitarian or evacuation missions in the Asia Pacific region, but acquiring such a capability for these purposes is a disproportionate investment.  An aircraft carrier’s purpose lies in its ability to project, or threaten the use of, force.  It seems likelier that Canberra’s interest in operating a carrier would be prompted by the military options it would endow.

Canberra is already seeking to support the U.S. pivot by hosting marines in Darwin and has a great interest in helping to shape the regional strategic environment in a manner conducive to its interests.  Given that Australia views those interests best served by a strong U.S. presence, I assume that in a conflict Canberra would expect to operate in concert with the U.S. Navy, perhaps even to the extent of embedding its carrier with, say, the U.S. Seventh Fleet.  However, due to the amount of firepower that Washington can bring to bear in Asia, an Australian carrier would make a negligible strategic contribution, though it would be a welcome political fillip.

Should Canberra desire to support Washington in an Asian conflict, operating a diminutive carrier is probably not the most useful contribution it could make.  Far more telling would be a capability to deploy numerous conventional submarines that can haunt littoral waters and ambush enemy shipping or naval forces.  A potent submarine force would be more difficult to detect, harder to sink and would severely complicate enemy deployments by holding large surface vessels at risk.  It would also be welcomed by a U.S. Navy that only operates larger, nuclear-powered submarines which have a limited ability to hug enemy shorelines.

In conclusion, an Australian aircraft carrier would afford decision-makers a wider range of military options.  Indeed, given that developing such a capability would be a long-term project, if, as I have previously mused, the F-35 turns out to be the last manned fighter aircraft Australia operates, the LHD may ultimately prove its worth as a drone-carrier.

However, given the message it would send to the region, the resources required to create and sustain it, the difficulty of protecting it, and the limited strategic contribution it could make in a high-intensity conflict, an aircraft carrier is not the best use of Canberra’s defence dollars.  If Australia wishes to make a strong strategic contribution at sea and support Washington in high-intensity conflicts, it should spend its money on submarines, not slow, vulnerable surface vessels.

Preferences and Vital Interests

Shen Dingli’s recent Foreign Policy article makes a common criticism against recent U.S. policy toward Syria and Crimea.

He writes that,

 “…the record of Obama’s administration, and that of his predecessor’s, is of security assurances backed up lately only by inaction.  The United States has failed to stop Bashar al-Assad in Syria. It failed to stand up to Russia’s adventurism in the formerly Georgian territories of South Ossetia and Abkhazia in 2008, or in Crimea in March of this year.  Granted, none of these places are treaty allies of the United States.  But if the United States won’t face Russia in Europe, will it really challenge China in the East and South China seas?”

This echoes arguments made by other critics of the Obama Administration.  If the U.S. doesn’t stand up to Syria and Russia, they ask, how can it hope to deter China?

Such critics fear that if Washington’s Asian allies believe it doesn’t possess the will to enforce its preferences in the Middle East and Eastern Europe, they will question America’s willingness to defend them and seek to either bandwagon with Beijing or make greater provisions for their own defence, further destabilising the Asia-Pacific region.

Such criticism, however, stems from a failure to appreciate that judicious strategy distinguishes between preferences and vital interests.

Washington, of course, would prefer a secular liberal democracy to emerge in Syria.  It would also prefer a liberal democratic Ukraine free from Moscow’s malign influence.  Neither of these outcomes, however, can be easily achieved, if at all.  More to the point, the U.S. does not have a vital interest – defined as those interests which affect one’s security and that a state will use force to defend – in the outcome of either conflict.

First, Syria.  Chastened by its misadventures in Afghanistan and Iraq, Washington is not keen to get drawn into another Middle Eastern conflict.  Getting bogged down in another sectarian conflict in the Arab world would do little to promote U.S. security and would devour resources better devoted to supporting the Washington’s pivot to Asia.

As for Crimea, Washington has offered it no security assurances and is not treaty-bound to defend it.  Using force to do so would run the risk of a clash between U.S. and Russian forces.  The defence of Crimea or Ukraine, a weak, impoverished state on the periphery of Europe, is not worth risking a clash with a nuclear-armed Russia that has a greater stake in the outcome than Washington.

For those who argue that allowing Moscow to dissect Ukraine will encourage Russian revanchism, emboldening it to seek to regain territory it lost when the Soviet Union collapsed, a little perspective is required.

Its latest actions have weakened, not strengthened Russia.  It has estranged itself from Europe and its neighbours will now be more alert to any actions that suggest Moscow is looking to redraw its borders.  Should it seek to embark on such a course, it will likely result in a balancing coalition forming against it.

Should a European balancing coalition form against it, Russia would find itself in a weak strategic position.  Europe possesses a population five times greater than Russia and enjoys a GDP eight times larger than its eastern neighbour.  The U.S. could certainly act as an offshore balancer, but it need not man the front lines.  Contemporary Russia is not the Soviet Union; Washington should expect its European allies to do the heavy-lifting.

What, then, does this mean for Asia?  I believe that Asian leaders recognise these realities and privately applaud Washington’s decision to remain relatively aloof from the conflicts in Syria and Ukraine.  After all, it isn’t in their interests for Washington to dilute its strength by taking on new security commitments in the Middle East and Europe and it certainly isn’t in their interests for the U.S. to get bogged down in conflicts in these regions.

In conclusion, it is telling that only one Asian power would identify a benefit in U.S. involvement in Syria and Ukraine.  It’s the same power that benefited from Washington’s strategic distraction in the War on Terror and the ill-judged wars it fostered.  Beijing would be only too happy to see Washington’s strategic attention focused on Syria and Russia.  By declining to get involved in conflicts of marginal importance to its security, America is better able to marshal its resources for the purpose that will shape its security in the 21st century, balancing China’s rise.

 

Australia and the F-35

Australia has ordered 58 F-35 fighters.

Australia has ordered 58 F-35 fighters.

 

The Abbot government’s decision to order an additional 58 Joint Strike Fighters at a cost of $12.4 billion, raising the number on order to 72, has brought Australia close to its original target of a fleet of around 100 F-35s.  This order is Canberra’s largest defence purchase to date (the price-tag attached to Australia’s future submarine will eclipse it by a considerable margin) and will ensure that the RAAF continues to enjoy a capability edge in its region.

It’s not all clear skies, though.  The JSF program has been bedevilled by cost overruns, technical difficulties and allegations that China has acquired some of its technical specifications, allowing Beijing to rapidly develop its J-20 stealth fighter, China’s own attempt at building a 5th generation tactical aircraft.  Nevertheless, the F-35 is the only feasible 5th generation fighter available to Australia.  While Canberra could have decided to purchase additional F-18 Super Hornets, doing so would have risked falling behind the regional standard in coming decades.

What is striking about this procurement, however, is the number of airframes Canberra intends to purchase.  When the Howard government announced that Australia would participate in the F-35 program, it suggested that Australia would purchase around 100 aircraft.  While the country retains the option to buy additional jets, doing so may prove difficult given the competing demands facing Australia’s uncertain fiscal outlook.

This means that the RAAF will operate a relatively small fleet of tactical aircraft.  Exacerbating this issue is the fact that due to standard maintenance cycles and other unexpected issues, only some of these aircraft will be available for duty at any given time.  While aircraft availability would rise significantly in wartime because finding the required resources would be considered a key priority, the number of available aircraft would remain below 72 and could fall sharply when combat losses are factored in.

This reduction in the number of aircraft operated by the RAAF is an ongoing trend and is mirrored in air forces around the world.  As aircraft become more capable and expensive, states have chosen to operate fewer jets.  Nevertheless, while current aircraft are more capable than their predecessors and can therefore offer superior capability despite their fewer numbers, the fact remains that superior numbers have a virtue of their own.  After all, an aircraft can only be in one place at a time, an air force is likely to suffer losses in combat and the more airframes available, the more ordnance can be fired at an opponent.  In addition, the greater the number of aircraft a country operates, the greater the number of aircraft – all things being equal – an opponent will require to achieve air superiority.

Due to the phenomenal complexity of contemporary fighter aircraft, however, not to mention the concomitant expense, the number of countries able to design, build and deploy tactical jets is much reduced and will likely continue to fall.  The United States’ F-22 program was discontinued due to the expense of the aircraft while the F-35 and European Typhoon have been funded by an international consortium of countries.

This leads to three conclusions.  First, states will be increasingly reluctant to risk their fighter jets in combat.  They will represent such a spectacular investment of national resources that in the future states will only employ them against opponents with relatively poor air defence capabilities.  They will be used against peer competitors only as a last resort.

Secondly, if the current trends of increasing complexity and expense continue, the operation of cutting-edge fighter jets may be beyond the budgets of all but the wealthiest of states.  Middle and minor powers may conclude that their military budgets can be better spent on other platforms.

Thirdly, foremost among such platforms will be armed drones.  As UAV technology matures, it is likely that drones will become increasingly combat-capable.  If so, the F-35 may be the last manned tactical aircraft flown by an Australian pilot.

 

 

 

 

The Beginning of the End for Surface Combatants?

The Zumwalt Class

The Zumwalt Class

 

Foreign Policy has recently posted a story about the U.S. Navy’s new Zumwalt class guided missile destroyer.  The USN currently plans to construct three vessels of this class, at a cost of $7 billion per unit.  This is a huge sum of money, particularly as some naval architects have questioned its ability to remain afloat if struck from behind by a powerful wave.

While it seems difficult to believe that the USN would build a ship with such an obvious and potentially disastrous design flaw, one other comment in the article caught my eye.

The article highlights the phenomenal power generation capabilities of the Zumwalt class, noting that it may serve as a test platform for Boeing’s Free Electron Laser Weapon system.  That’s a laser gun to a layman.  In addition, it may one day sport a rail gun.

While no one is suggesting that these weapons will be mass produced and fitted on USN ships in the short to medium term – the example of ballistic missile defence illustrates the difficulties of bringing complex military technologies to fruition – should these weapons become part of the USN’s standard inventory, it would raise questions about the long-term future of major surface combatants.

Surface ships are already extremely vulnerable military platforms.  They are hugely expensive, increasingly easy to locate, move at relatively slow speeds and can be sunk by comparatively cheap weaponry such as anti ship missiles or mines.  In response, as illustrated by the Zumwalt, naval architects are turning to stealthy designs as a way to increase the survivability of surface vessels.  Should lasers or rail guns become de rigeur, however, it is difficult to imagine how surface vessels could effectively defend against them upon being located.

Perhaps the Zumwalt represents the final generation of major surface combatants.  Should Washington field such weapons, it seems reasonable to expect that they will soon be adopted by other advanced navies.  At this point, continuing to design and deploy surface combatants would appear to be an ineffective use of resources.  Submarine forces would be the obvious beneficiary as their ability to avoid detection would be even more attractive to naval planners.
 

 

Theory vs Practice

I just read Jim Molan’s response to Australia’s 2013 Defence White Paper presented to the United Services Institute of the ACT.  It’s a typically forthright contribution from the former Major General, with some particularly strong criticism of Paul Dibb’s geographic determinism and support for an Australian maritime strategy that emphasises the importance of aerial and maritime forces at the expense of a heavy army.

However, what caught my eye was his dismissal of civilian academic strategists and assertion that “you should never be permitted to speak on strategy unless you have at least a passing familiarity with operations in the real world”.

While he was perhaps playing to his audience, as a student of strategy, I disagree with Molan’s position.  Indeed, lacking first hand military experience may even be a bonus if it means civilian strategists are devoid of bias toward a particular service arm and are able to see the bigger picture,  conceiving of military strategy as only one branch of grand strategy.

I am, however, keen to learn what readers think.  If you have an academic interest in strategy, do you believe you would have a deeper understanding of the field if you acquired first-hand experience?

If you do have military experience, has it afforded you greater insight into the art of strategy or do you believe you could have acquired comparable knowledge through academic study?

 

 

Submarines are essential for Australia

The Strategist, a blog run by the Australia Strategic Policy Institute, posted an article concerning Australia’s future submarine today that arrived at some interesting conclusions.

In the post, the author, Nic Stuart, questions the necessity of a submarine capability, particularly in light of Canberra’s present budgetary difficulties.  He suggests that new robotic technologies could perform a similar function to the proposed submarines, that the money lavished on the submarines could be better spent on other ways to achieve Australia’s strategic objectives, and that there are better alternatives that ought to be explored.

While I think it’s valuable to question received wisdom, I find Stuart’s article unconvincing.  To begin with, the notion that robotic technology could replace a submarine within a relatively short timeline seems fanciful to me.  If the cost of acquiring a new submarine is expensive, developing a robotic alternative that could approach or match the capabilities of a traditional submarine would, I wager, be prohibitive and most likely beyond Australia’s ability if the travails experienced with the Collins class is any indication.

As for the matter of money, the sinew of strategy, there is no doubt that a new submarine will represent a large investment.  This, however, does not mean that it will not be a wise investment.  The first priority of the ADF is to defend the Australian continent.  While any conventional threat to Australia currently seems unlikely, it must be prepared for.  In addition, given the rapid shifts in relative power taking place in the Asia Pacific, only a fool would be willing to bet that Australia would not have cause to rue the absence of a submarine capability over the next thirty years or so.

Given Australia’s vast maritime approaches, I consider a submarine capability to be essential.  Even the presence of a limited number of submarines would severely complicate the planning of any opponent.  If any naval procurement program should be revisited it should be the construction of the Navy’s news air warfare destroyers.  They may make for fine photo opportunities for politicians, but that does not change the fact that they are large floating targets, easily overwhelmed by swarming tactics.

Stuart concludes that there are better ways to achieve Australia’s strategic objectives.  Unfortunately, however, he does not outline what they are.  While I concur that Australia’s limited defence budget could be spent more effectively, allowing its submarine capability to wither is not the answer.

Should the U.S. embrace the CCP approach to journalists?

Ink_Bottle_and_Pen.jpg

U.S. Congressman Dana Rohrabacher has written a brief article in Foreign Policy arguing that Washington should begin to restrict the number of visas issued to Chinese journalists in response to Beijing’s recent crackdown on foreign journalists (Chinese journalists are not have having an easy time of it either).

Rohrabacher compares the the struggles of American journalists in China unfavourably to the environment enjoyed by Chinese reporters in America.  In light of the intimidation and obstruction faced by Western reporters covering China, Rohrabacher proposes that the U.S. should be guided by the concept of reciprocity when deciding whether to issue a visa to a Chinese journalist.  Visas would be issued on a one-to-one basis.

It strikes me that retaliating in a tit for tat fashion is an ill-conceived notion.  Allowing Chinese journalists free access to America, Washington is able to emphasise that it is an open society, welcomes new ideas, even criticism, and remain a beacon for those Chinese who would like to see China develop a free press.

By allowing, for example, Xinhua journalists to cover a Presidential election, or anti-war protests, Washington highlights the chasm between how America and China choose their leaders or react to free assembly.  The comparison does not flatter Beijing.  In the battle for soft power, this is an easy victory for the U.S.