Lowy Institute

The trickiest part of Malcolm Turnbull’s speech in Washington today was always going to be the passage about China. This was the issue on which, to judge by what he said before becoming Prime Minister, Mr Turnbull’s ideas are most at odds with Washington’s and with his predecessors.

He has argued in the past that China’s rise inevitably means big changes in Asia’s strategic order, which clearly implies a bigger role for China and a lesser role for the US than we have been used to in recent decades. This is not something any Australian leader has been brave enough to say before, and it is not something anyone in Washington wants to hear. So perhaps we should not be surprised that he chose not to venture too directly into such territory on his very first visit to DC as Prime Minister.

Instead he quoted Thucydides, citing the famous line about war between Athens and Sparta being inevitable, and laying great emphasis on Xi Jinping’s statement in Seattle last year, when Xi denied there was a ‘Thucydides Trap’ and predicted a peaceful trajectory for US-China relations. 

All this attention on Thucydides owes a lot to Graham Allison, who in an influential essay in The Atlantic last September, argued that war had been avoided in four of 16 historical cases of a rising power confronting an established power. Not all of his four exceptions to Thucydides’ rule are necessarily reassuring: he counts the US-Soviet rivalry of the Cold War, for example, among them. But the basic point is fair: the Thucydides trap can be avoided.

However the really important part of Allison’s analysis comes at the end, where he explains what will be needed to avoid it. Here are his concluding paragraphs, which are worth quoting at length:

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'At this point, the established script for discussion of policy challenges calls for a pivot to a new strategy (or at least slogan), with a short to-do list that promises peaceful and prosperous relations with China. Shoehorning this challenge into that template would demonstrate only one thing: a failure to understand the central point I’m trying to make. What strategists need most at the moment is not a new strategy, but a long pause for reflection. If the tectonic shift caused by China’s rise poses a challenge of genuinely Thucydidean proportions, declarations about “rebalancing,” or revitalizing “engage and hedge,” or presidential hopefuls’ calls for more “muscular” or “robust” variants of the same, amount to little more than aspirin treating cancer. Future historians will compare such assertions to the reveries of British, German, and Russian leaders as they sleepwalked into 1914.

The rise of a 5,000-year-old civilization with 1.3 billion people is not a problem to be fixed. It is a condition—a chronic condition that will have to be managed over a generation. Success will require not just a new slogan, more frequent summits of presidents, and additional meetings of departmental working groups. Managing this relationship without war will demand sustained attention, week by week, at the highest level in both countries. It will entail a depth of mutual understanding not seen since the Henry Kissinger-Zhou Enlai conversations in the 1970s. Most significantly, it will mean more radical changes in attitudes and actions, by leaders and publics alike, than anyone has yet imagined.'

From everything Mr Turnbull wrote and said about the issue before he became Prime Minister, one would have judged that he agrees with every word that Allison writes here. But that is very far from the impression one would get from what he said in Washington today. There he only spoke of what China has to do to avoid the Thucydides Trap:

Now, if avoiding the Thucydides Trap is a core objective of China’s strategy - as President Xi insists it is - then we would hope that China’s actions would be carefully calculated to make conflict less likely, not more, and would seek to reassure neighbours of and build their confidence in China’s intentions. 

Of course this is half right: if escalating rivalry and conflict are to be avoided, then China will have to be willing to moderate its ambitions and calibrate its actions. This is a message that needs to be delivered loud and clear in Beijing. But it is only half the story, and it is not the half that needs to be heard in Washington.

Whatever we might wish, escalating rivalry in Asia will not be avoided if we wait for China to make all the concessions. America too is going to have to rethink its role in Asia and its relationship with China – these are ‘the radical changes in attitudes and actions’ that Allison is urging.

This is a message that Washington still doesn’t get and badly needs to hear, and not just from scholars like Allison. It needs to hear it from leaders like Turnbull. He missed the opportunity this time. Maybe next time.

Photo courtesy of Flickr user CSIS | Center for Strategic & International Studies.


Lowy Institute Paper

Debating Condemned to Crisis?

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Those lucky enough to have worked with Ken Ward over his many years of government service will smile as they read his fine Lowy Paper on Australia's relations with Indonesia. It has just the same droll and occasionally mordant tone that characterised his work in DFAT and elsewhere, as well as his precise eye for detail and talent for exposition. It is no surprise, then, that Condemned to Crisis is one of the best things written for many years about the contemporary management of this relationship, and a model of plain and forthright exposition. I strongly recommend it.

Ken's central message is simple enough. He thinks that crises in the relationship are inevitable, but that governments can manage them better by understanding Indonesia's perceptions and sensitivities better and by not allowing the media or opposition to set the terms of discussion. Meanwhile, we should not be too ambitious about the relationship: it serves our interests well enough as it is, and we should not expect it to get much better or exaggerate how much it matters if it doesn't.

All of this is sound, sober and wise, based as it is on Ken's experience observing the relationship over several decades. As a guide to managing issues with Jakarta day-to-day, or even year-to year, it could hardly be bettered. Indeed if the routine management of the status quo was all that our foreign policy needed to do, there would be very little left to say. Ken has pinned it with a lepidopterist's precision.

But is that all our foreign policy needs to do?

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Running relationships day-to-day on the basis of past experience will get us a long way, but it will not help us adapt to big changes when they happen – as they sometimes do. So we also have to look to the future and ask what big changes might be looming, and what we can do to manage them.

One gets the impression that Ken is a little impatient with speculation about the future. If so, this is something he shares with many Australian foreign-policy professionals. Indeed, one might say that the professional ethos of our foreign service today emphasises a briskly practical, no-nonsense approach to the management of today's immediate problems and issues. It tends to disparage reflection about the future and how our policy might prepare for it, and shape it to our advantage.

But if we do not speculate about the future – even the relatively distant future of two or three decades ahead – then we miss opportunities to adapt to it, and risk finding ourselves stuck with old policies that do not work anymore.

This risk looms large in relation to Indonesia, because the circumstances of the relationship are changing in two important ways.

The first is the big shift in economic relativities, a shift which has already occurred and seem likely to continue over coming decades, which makes it likely that Indonesia will end up with a much bigger economy than ours. Hence, in a very important way, Indonesia will be more powerful. Ken touches on this, but does not reflect on what it might mean for the relationship.

The second is the bigger shift in the regional order that is being driven by the wider shift in the distribution of wealth and power in Asia. This is important to Ken's theme because the Australia–Indonesia relationship does not exist in a vacuum. It is profoundly influenced by the wider regional environment in which both countries live.

It has been easy to overlook this, because the regional order has been so stable for so long — until recently. But if, as seems likely, Asia works rather differently over coming decades from the way it has worked over the period covered by Ken's analysis, then it seems likely that the Australia-Indonesia relationship will work differently too.

These thoughts might nudge us towards some conclusions a little different from Ken's. In particular it might lead us to ask whether the relationship with Indonesia will become more important to us in future than it has been in the past, presenting both bigger risks and bigger opportunities.

If so, then perhaps we should not be as content as Ken appears to be with a relationship which is somewhat better managed but not essentially different from the troubled one we know today. In turn, that suggests Australian policymakers should put higher priority on changing the basics of the relationship rather than just managing it.

Of course that is a rather ambitious objective, especially compared to the modest way we have conceived foreign policy in Australian recent years. But worth a try, surely?

Photo courtesy of DFAT.


It seems likely that President Obama's flagship Asian free-trade deal, the Trans Pacific Partnership (TPP), will sink in the US Congress. Those who worry about its implications in specific sectors like pharmaceuticals might think this is a good thing. But what would be the broader implications? That depends on what difference TPP would make if it floats. The answer comes in two parts.

On the economic side, the answer is probably 'not much' overall. The TPP would not work like a classic free trade agreement, boosting trade by lowering protection, because as Lawrence Summers pointed out the other day, protection is now so low that there is not much to be gained by lowering it further. 

Perhaps the trade-promotion effects would be bigger for some more protected economies like Vietnam, but even here some elements of the TPP might have the opposite consequences. To many Americans, the best parts of the TPP are those setting new environmental and labour standards that countries like Vietnam would find hard to meet.

The TPP is also intended to boost investment, yet here too the long-term impact on economic growth seems likely to be small. So, like other FTAs, the overall economic impact of the TPP will be modest at best.

But as everyone knows, the TPP is not really about economics, at least for the Obama Administration. Since 2011 the TPP has been seen, and sold, primarily as an element of the Administration's 'pivot' to Asia. The idea is that the TPP will help protect US political and strategic primacy in Asia by restoring the regional economic leadership which America had enjoyed for so long, and which China has been so successfully taking over in recent years.

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Washington is right to think this matters. The more important China becomes to its Asian neighbours economically, the harder it will be for America to persuade them to reject Beijing's claims for a 'new model of great power relations' in Asia, and the further US leadership will erode. Anyone listening to Tony Abbott's fulsome remarks about President Xi Jinping this week at the signing of the new China-Australia FTA will understand America's problem.

But it seems a fantasy to imagine that the TPP can solve this problem. That would require a fundamental restructuring of the Asian regional economy. The TPP would have to displace China from the central position which it has built over the last two decades, and create a new regional economic order re-centred on America.

That means counteracting the immense gravitational pull of China's economy. To see how hard that would be, just look at Australia's trade. These days we export more than six times as much to China as we do to America ($108 billion vs $17 billion). Of course, trade isn't everything – the investment numbers still go America's way – but the trends are clear and the TPP has no chance of offsetting them.

Even at relatively sluggish levels of growth, China's economy will remain a much richer source of new economic opportunities for the rest of Asia than America has any hope of being, with or without the TPP. It would make at most a marginal difference to America's relative economic weight in Asia. It would make no difference to the essential reality that China is far more important to Asia's economic future.

And that means that even if the TPP floats, the countries of Asia will remain cautious about risking their economic prospects with China in order to preserve American regional primacy. It would do very little to help America resist China's challenge to US primacy in Asia.

But that doesn't mean America's debate over the TPP makes no difference to its future standing in Asia. On the contrary, it might make quite a big difference, because the Obama Administration has itself made TPP a test of US resolve in Asia. So while a successful TPP campaign would do little if anything to solve Washington's strategic problems in Asia, a failed campaign would make those problems worse.

What we might call 'the balance of resolve' is central to the contest between America and China for leadership in Asia today, and it already leans China's way. As they become more evenly matched in other forms of power, China's most important asset in that contest is the perception — in China itself, in the region and in America — that it is more committed to overturning Asia's US-led status quo than America is to preserving it.

That perception will grow stronger if Congress wrecks the TPP, pushing the balance of resolve further in China's favour, and further weakening US leadership in Asia. If that happens Obama himself will be in large measure to blame, because he is the one who has turned the TPP into a test which will not help America if it is passed, but will hurt it badly if it is failed.


Deterrence is a beguiling concept. It offers the hope that we can prevail over our opponents without actually fighting them because our mere possession of military power will be sufficient to compel them to our will.

This seductive idea seems to be the basis of Michael Cole's view that deterrence will allow America and its allies to defend Taiwan from China with incurring the costs and risks of conflict, and that they should therefore commit themselves to doing so. This view is set out in Michael's most recent contribution to an exchange between us about this issue, and I'd like to thank him for his thoughtful part in our exchange on this sensitive topic.

Alas, I think this view of deterrence is mistaken. Deterrence can work, of course, but only where the deterred power believes that the deterring power is willing to incur the costs and risks of conflict. So Washington can only deter Beijing from using force against Taiwan if Beijing is reasonably sure that Washington is willing to actually fight to do so.

Moreover, because the stakes are so high and the nuclear threshold is so unclear, Washington must convince Beijing that it is willing to fight a nuclear war over Taiwan if it is to deter China from starting a conventional one. Simply possessing armed forces, including nuclear forces, is not enough to do this. You also have to convince the other side that you are willing to use them, and are willing to incur the costs and risks of the resulting conflict.

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There is, as Michael acknowledges, a parallel here with the Ukraine. Many in the West believed Russia could be deterred from any military intervention in the Ukraine. But deterrence did not work because Moscow did not believe that Washington cared enough about Ukraine to accept the costs and risks of a military conflict with Russia.

Some might hope that China can be convinced that the US is willing to fight, even if it isn't. This is called bluffing, and it's a dangerous and unreliable tactic. And this is precisely why America cannot reliably deter China from attacking Taiwan. As Michael himself acknowledges, there are real doubts that America would be willing to go to war with China. It seems likely that those doubts are shared in Beijing, and they cannot be dispelled simply by rhetorical reaffirmations of the Taiwan Relations Act, because they arise from a quite reasonable assessment of the balance between costs to America of reunification on the one hand, and the costs of war with China on the other.

This assessment does not minimise the costs of unification, both to America and to the Taiwanese themselves. It simply sets them realistically against the costs and risks of war with China, which Michael seems to agree are exceptionally grave. And if Americans are not convinced of US resolve, why should we expect China's leaders to be? And if they are not reasonably sure that the US would be willing to actually commit its formidable forces to fight for Taiwan, how can they deter China from attacking it?

The conclusion seems clear: America cannot defend Taiwan unless it is really willing to fight China to do so, and unless it is plainly willing to do that, Washington should not mislead the Taiwanese into thinking that they can rely on American support if the worst happens.

Photo by Flickr user See-ming Lee.


After a decade of relative harmony, tensions between Beijing and Taipei are rising again. As Taiwan's leaders and voters face big choices about their future relations with China, America must think carefully about its commitments to Taiwan.

Would America be willing go to war with China to prevent Taiwan being forcibly united with the mainland? J Michael Cole, responding in The National Interest to a recent op-ed of mine in Singapore's Straits Times, expresses a widely held assumption that it would, and should.

To many people it seems self-evident that America would honour the commitments enshrined in the Taiwan Relations Act. But the TRA was passed in 1979, when China's GDP was 1/20th the size of America's, its place in the global economy was miniscule, its navy and air force were negligible, and its prospects for progress depended completely on America's goodwill.

So back then a US-China conflict carried much bigger economic and military risks for China than for America. That made the TRA's commitments both highly credible and very unlikely to be tested. Washington could safely assume that Beijing would back off to avoid a conflict in which China had so much more to lose than America.

Things are different today.

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China's economy is now so big and so central to global trade and capital flows that the consequences of any disruption would be just as serious for America as for China. Militarily, America can no longer expect a swift and certain victory in a war over Taiwan. China's anti-access/area-denial capabilities would preclude direct US intervention unless those capabilities had first been degraded by a sustained and wide-ranging strike campaign against Chinese bases and forces.

China would very likely respond to such a campaign with attacks on US and allied bases throughout Asia. The US has no evident means to cap the resulting escalation spiral, and no one could be sure it would stop below the nuclear threshold. The possibility of nuclear attacks on US cities would have to be considered.

These new realities of power mean that today a US-China conflict would impose equal risks and costs on both sides. And where costs and risks are equal, the advantage lies with those who have more at stake, and hence greater resolve. China's leaders today seem to think they hold this advantage, and they are probably right. It is therefore a big mistake to keep assuming, as many people seem to do, that China would be sure to back off before a crisis over Taiwan became a conflict.

US leaders must therefore ask what happens if Beijing does not back down as a crisis escalates. At what point would they back down instead? What would be the damage to US global leadership if Washington brought on a confrontation with China and then blinked first? What could happen if Washington didn't blink first? Is Taiwan's status quo worth a global economic collapse? It is worth a real risk of nuclear war with China?

These are the questions America's leaders would have to confront in considering military action to defend Taiwan, and their answer would very likely be that the status of Taiwan is not worth risking nuclear war or economic collapse over. And that means American leaders and policy analysts must confront these questions now, as they decide whether to maintain the old commitments to defend Taiwan. The promises that America was willing and able to keep in 1979 might not be ones it is willing or able to keep now.

What about America's allies and friends in Asia? Wouldn't they help America defend Taiwan, if only because they are so worried themselves about China? Many Americans seem to assume they would. But even Australia, America's most reliable ally in Asia, is uncertain about this. And if Australia is uncertain, it is pure wishful thinking to expect the likes of India, Singapore, Vietnam or even the Philippines to offer anything more than mild diplomatic support to America over Taiwan.

The exception is Japan, which under Shinzo Abe might be expected to join the fight, especially after last week's visit to Washington. But does Mr Abe really speak for Japan? Will future Japanese leaders take the same view? And even if they did, how exactly would that help America? How would Japan's support change the answers to the hard questions posed above, and increase the chances that America would indeed come to Taiwan's aid?

So no one should lightly assert that America or its allies would help defend Taiwan from China. But should they? This is a big subject. Suffice to say here that the question is not answered simply by using the word 'appeasement' to invoke the memory of Munich.

There are hard questions to be answered about how far we should be willing to go to accommodate (or, if you prefer, to appease) China's ambitions for a bigger regional leadership role as its power grows. Any substantial accommodation would mean a shift away from the US-led order of recent decades, which would be risky and unsettling. It seems much easier to evade these questions by refusing to contemplate any accommodation at all. But that would carry high costs.

Those who assume that those costs must be worth paying might not have thought carefully enough about just how high the price could go. And those who assume that it will be impossible to accommodate China because it proved impossible to appease Hitler perhaps assume that there are no material differences between the situations in Europe in 1938 and in Asia now, or between Nazi Germany and today's China. They perhaps also assume that there are no alternatives to the old US-led order in Asia except Chinese hegemony. The magnitude of the issues at stake – including for the people of Taiwan – suggest that these assumptions need more careful scrutiny.


For a long time American (and Australian) thinking about China has been dominated by a broad consensus that, despite many signs of growing assertiveness, Beijing does not pose a fundamental challenge to US leadership in Asia. The argument goes that, whatever they might say, China's leaders know that its economic future is too uncertain, its political system too fragile, its military too weak and its friends too few to allow it to contest American primacy. They also know that China's own stability and prosperity depend on the regional order that only America can uphold.

Therefore, the consensus has concluded, America doesn't have to do much in response except remind everyone that it intends to stick around. Hence the 'pivot', which has emphasised declaratory statements rather than substantive actions.

But that consensus may be unravelling, at least in America. Washington's AIIB debacle seems to have sounded a wake-up call and now, in just the past week, two major reports from the heart of the US foreign policy establishment have chimed in too. Both reports argue that China's challenge to US primacy in Asia is for real, and that America's policy in Asia needs to shift radically to respond.

At first glance they offer diametrically opposed views of what that response should be, in ways that might appear to frame the debate Washington is now having about how to respond to Beijing's challenge.

In fact, as we shall see, they share a reluctance to address the real issue, and to acknowledge the real risks.

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One of these reports is by our own Kevin Rudd (US-China 21: The Future of US-China Relations Under Xi Jinping). It is the product of his stint at Harvard's Belfer Centre, and is now being showcased by his new home at the Asia Society. The other, from the Council on Foreign Relations, is by two well-known policy heavyweights, Robert Blackwill and Ashley Tellis (Revising US Grand Strategy Toward China).

Both reports argue that China's economic rise marks a fundamental shift in the distribution of power in Asia, and that China's leaders, especially under Xi Jinping, are determined to use their newfound strength to transform the Asian order in their favour. Rudd's argument on this is particularly strong, in part because he draws on a deeper understanding of China. It reminds us that, at his best, Rudd can be a very good analyst indeed.

So what should America do? Rudd says America and China can resolve the tensions caused by China's ambitions through diplomacy. The two powers can and should negotiate in a spirit of 'constructive realism', deepening cooperation where their interests coincide while quarantining and managing the issues on which they disagree.

It's a nice idea, but Rudd's account of it evades the hard question: is America willing to deal with China in the way he proposes? His model implies a complete transformation in the nature of US-China relations so that they become true partners in regional leadership. But his prescription will only work if America is willing to deal with China as an equal, which is of course incompatible with the old model of US regional leadership in Asia.

Yet Rudd does not acknowledge this in his report. No doubt he understands that it is something his American audience will not want to hear, but until this issue is squarely addressed, America's debate about China will keep on missing the mark.

Blackwill and Tellis do not make this mistake. They say upfront that perpetuating US primacy is America's primary strategic objective, and they urge America to build up its economic, military and diplomatic position in Asia to preserve it from China's challenge. This is, in effect, a policy of containment.  Any accommodation of China's ambitions is ruled out.

They are rather glibly optimistic about what this policy would require. They call for the strengthening of America's economy, military power and diplomacy to counter China's rise, and a 'geo-economic' counter-offensive against China's growing economic sphere of influence, without saying how all this might be done. This suggests they do not really understand how radically China's rise has shifted the distribution of power.

But more importantly, Blackwill and Tellis are optimistic about how China would respond. They say America could continue cooperating with China where that suits US interests, while relentlessly resisting China's ambitions to build a new regional order. Their policy prescription assumes that China will be happy to continue working with the US on these terms. In other words, their prescriptions assume what their analysis disproves: that China is not really serious about challenging US primacy after all. If that was true, America could follow Blackwill and Tellis' prescription to resist China's challenge and preserve its primacy without running the risk of disrupting its relationship with China, which is what Americans want to hear.

This brings us to point where Blackwill and Tellis converge with Rudd. Both reports evade the fact that strategic rivalry between America and China is ultimately caused by their fundamentally incompatible aims in Asia. America's primary aim is to retain leadership in Asia, and China's is to displace it.

Rudd assumes America will abandon its aim, while Blackwill and Tellis assume it will be China that steps back. Rudd at least assumes that China will also be willing to compromise, whereas Blackwill and Tellis seem to think that America need make no substantial concessions to enjoy a peaceful relationship with China.

The big risk, of course, is that neither side will be willing to make concessions, because each expects the other to blink first. That leads straight to escalating rivalry and an ever-higher risk of war. Both these reports downplay that risk, because they seem to assume China does not want to change the regional order enough to risk a military confrontation with the US.

Photo courtesy of Flickr user U.S. Department of Defense.


Jim Molan is dismayed by my suggestion that strategic-level policy is not the ADF's strong suit. The offending line — in an article by Sophie Morris in last week's Saturday Paper — accurately reflects my remarks to her. Jim's robust response peppers a rather larger target, however.

Among other things, he attributes to me the view that Defence civilians are much better at strategy than their uniformed colleagues. So to be clear, I do not believe that civilians are any better at providing strategic policy advice than military officers. On the contrary, had I been asked, I would have said that the depth and breadth of strategic policy expertise among civilians in the Defence Department is just as inadequate as it is among their military colleagues. This is a major problem for our defence policy which, to be fair, I believe the senior leadership of the organisation understands.

My primary point to Sophie was simply that serving in the ADF, perhaps at quite a junior level, does not in itself guarantee that a parliamentarian will have special expertise in the defence and strategic policy decisions discussed and made at the political level.

But the broader point remains true too: the ADF as an institution does not generally (with some notable exceptions) excel at the strategic-level tasks of advising governments about when and how they should use force to achieve policy objectives, and about what capabilities Australia needs.

I would offer as evidence the flawed advice that led to Australia's costly strategic failure in Afghanistan (and yes, I have no doubt that it was a failure), and the advice to acquire the amphibious assault ships (pictured), which I believe are now becoming widely recognised as the white elephants they are. I think the ADF's strategic-level advisers, along with their civilian counterparts, must take some share of the responsibility for these decisions, if indeed they spoke in favour of them or failed to speak to robustly against them.

Photo by Flickr user Crouchy69.


Alan Dupont concludes his thoughtful response to my comments on his Lowy Analysis paper, Full-Spectrum Defence: Re-thinking the Fundamentals of Australian Defence Strategy, by posing some good questions.

First, he asks, should we see irregular warfare as the dominant form of future conflict, both between and within states? The answer depends on what we mean by 'dominant'. Do we mean 'most common' or 'most serious'? Irregular warfare is likely to be the most common form of conflict in future, as it always has been in the past. What I suppose we must call 'regular warfare' – large-scale conflict between the armed forces of states – has always been much rarer, and I expect this will remain true too.

But regular warfare is more serious than irregular warfare, at least for a country like Australia. If we were Yemen or the Congo or (for much of its history) Indonesia, then irregular warfare would pose a more serious threat than regular warfare, and it would make perfect sense to design our armed forces primarily for that kind of conflict.

But we face no credible or even conceivable risk of internal insurrection, and no risk of insurrections spilling onto our territory from elsewhere on anything but the smallest scale, a scale for which police are more relevant than armed forces. And the risk of state-sponsored irregular warfare against Australia by a neighbouring state was tested at length by the 'low-level contingency' concept which was so central to our defence policy in the 1980s. I think Alan would agree with me that the closer one looked at that concept, the more improbable it seemed.

Of course the risk of Australia being involved in a regular conflict is pretty low too. But I would argue that changes in the regional strategic order mean it is not as low over coming decades as it has been since the early 1970s, and that this risk is much more serious for Australia than risks of irregular warfare. And that is why I think it should predominate in our force planning.

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Second, Alan asks whether the 'force structure determinants' used in previous White Papers 'have any redeeming value'. By 'force structure determinants' Alan means the core strategic objectives which the Government decides the ADF should be built to achieve, and which therefore determine what kinds of forces we need and how much money we should spend.

I think setting these strategic objectives for the ADF does have value. Indeed I think deciding what we want our armed forces to be able to do is absolutely essential to making sensible decisions about what capabilities we need. In his paper, Alan says they are no use because governments sometimes ignore them in choosing capabilities, and often use the ADF for tasks different from the ones they identify as force structure determinants.

He is quite right about both of these, but that does not mean the idea of setting core objectives has no value. Governments do sometimes violate their own policy principles (the Howard Government did when it ordered the C-17s that Alan mentions), but the fault here might lie with government decisions rather than the principles they sometimes ignore.

More importantly, the fact that governments use the ADF for purposes other than that for which it was designed does not mean it has been designed for the wrong purposes. It often makes sense to use something for a purpose for which one would not buy it.

There is a separate question, of course, about whether the strategic objectives that have been laid down as force structure determinants in recent white papers are the right ones for Australia over coming decades. I do not think they are, because they assume that Australia's strategic risks will remain much the same in the next few decades as they have been in the last few. What objectives we should adopt instead is a question for another time.

Third, Alan asks whether I still think we should have a primarily maritime military strategy, and if so how space and cyber fit into it? The short answer to the first part is 'yes'. Most of the core strategic objectives I would set for the ADF can be achieved most cost-effectively by maritime operations, and I would focus most of our capability there.

What about cyber and space? Let's clear up a muddle here: when we talk about cyber and space as new domains of warfare, are we talking about the impact of cyber- and space-based actions on the systems that support and enable the conduct of conventional military operations in the other three domains, or are we talking about the impact of such operations on society more broadly, to achieve a direct strategic effect?

If it is the former, then clearly we need to develop our maritime forces to operate in a contested cyber and space environment, based on a sober assessment of the risks involved. This might be hard technically, but it poses no conceptual challenges to policy.

If it is the latter, the issue is much less clear. Cyber attack on national information systems is a serious potential threat, but armed force is little or no use in responding to it, so it need not shape our defence planning. Space-based attack directly on civilian populations or systems? Unless we mean such familiar problems as ballistic missiles, I'm not sure what we are talking about here. Denial of satellite services, perhaps? Whatever it is, I doubt that armed forces are going to be the answer.

Photo by Flickr user DVIDSHUB.


The first thing to say about Alan Dupont's recent paper is that he is absolutely correct about the dire condition of Australian strategic policy.

As he suggests, we lack a coherent answer to the most basic question of all: 'What do we want our armed forces to be able to do?' Until that question is answered, there is no way we can make sensible choices about the kinds of armed forces we need, nor about how much we should spend on them.

Moreover, Alan is right about many of the reasons why our strategic policy is so bad. However, I'm not completely sold on all of his suggestions about how to do things better. Here are a few points that I think deserve fuller debate.

What is armed force good for?

Clearly we cannot decide what we want our armed forces to be able to do until we have decided what kinds of things armed forces can usefully do. Alan casts the net pretty wide. He identifies a broad range of security threats which he thinks our forces should be designed to deal with, and criticises the idea that we should focus narrowly on building them to respond to threats from other countries' armed forces.

I'm not so sure.

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For example, Alan clearly believes that stabilisation operations in the Middle East are an important role for our forces and should influence our force development decisions. This presupposes that not just our interests in the Middle East are important enough to us to warrant giving them such a central place in our national security policy, but that military operations are a cost-effective way of promoting those interests. The experience of the past decade does not support that view.

To take the most obvious case, it seems likely that a serious analysis of our experience in Afghanistan would conclude that sustained military operations there failed to achieve our strategic objectives, not because of any faults in the conduct of the operation itself, but because the aims we set ourselves could not be achieved with military means. Those are lessons we need to learn.

What kinds of threats will we face in the future?

Alan's ideas about the kind of threats that Australia's forces should be designed to address, reflect a judgement that our future threat environment will look much like the one we see have seen in recent decades. That means he emphasises lower-level contingencies and coalition operations over higher-level conventional conflicts and independent operations.

But the future does not always resemble the past, so it is important to test this judgement.

Alan rightly observes that the strategic order in Asia is changing as power shifts to China, and that America's role in Asia will change too, and he criticises our defence policymakers for not thinking carefully enough about what this will mean. But he himself, perhaps, underestimates just how big the implications of these changes might be – especially if we look out a few decades.

Alan deprecates any attempt to think this far ahead, but one wonders how decisions about capabilities that will not even enter service for 20 years can be made without doing so. This is not the place to explore what kinds of risks we might face in the very different Asia of the Asian Century: suffice to say here that it would be unwise to base our strategic policy on the assumption that they will look much like those of the past 30 years.

That is the context in which issues like the geographic focus on our defence posture and the place of maritime operations in our defence planning come into focus. The more the future resembles the recent past, the more sense there is in Alan's arguments for a wider geographic and operational focus. The more we contemplate our security needs in a very different and more contested Asia, the more questionable Alan's arguments become.

How much to spend?

Alan's paper doesn't focus much on money. That is a pity, because money is of course central to any serious discussion about strategic policy. One gets the impression that Alan thinks we should be spending a good deal more on defence than we are, but even with a much bigger budget there would be hard choices to be made between competing priorities.

Alan mentions lots of things he thinks the ADF should be able to do, but doesn't give any basis for setting priorities between them. That leaves the hard work of building a coherent strategic policy still to be done.

Photo courtesy of Australian Defence Image Library.


In his latest contribution to our debate, Shashank Joshi raised some excellent points against my sceptical view of the emerging India-US strategic partnership. But I'm still unpersuaded.

To explain why, it helps to step back and clarify the question we are debating here. It is not whether strategic relations between Delhi and Washington have grown closer in recent years, because clearly they have. It is what these closer relations mean for the geo-political contest between America and China.

India's position is clearly important to this contest. Many Americans, and many of America's friends in Asia, have long believed that India's growing wealth and power will be vital in helping America counterbalance China's growing strategic weight, and resist China's challenge to US regional leadership.

Indeed, the belief many people have that India will play this role is central to their confidence that America can and will preserve the status quo against China's challenge. It is therefore important to decide whether the progress we have seen in US-India relations justifies that confidence.

I have argued that in a geopolitical contest of the kind we see unfolding between America and China today, India's relations with America will only make a difference to the extent that India is seen to be willing to support America in a US-China conflict.

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That is because who wins the contest between the American and Chinese visions of Asia's future order ultimately depends on which is seen to be more willing to fight for their vision. Each power wants the other to believe that it will go to war to impose its vision, and hopes that, if all else fails, this will persuade the other to back off.

This way of describing what is happening will surprise those who think that this kind of old-fashioned power politics disappeared after 1989, but it seems to me the only way to understand events in Asia today. In fact power politics never went away; people simply started to think that America was the only power that was indulging in it. It has been taken for granted that America will fight to support its vision of regional order, but that no one would be willing to oppose them. Now China is proving that false. We can no longer assume that China is any more determined to change the current order than America is to preserve it. 

That is why India's role in this contest depends on how far it appears willing and able to materially support the US in a conflict with China. In a game played for these stakes, nothing less counts for much. 

As I read him, Shashank makes two key points about this question.

One is that, while India might not be willing to send combat forces to fight alongside America's in a coalition against China, it would provide other, non-combat support such as basing and refuelling facilities. That sounds like what the diplomats call 'all support short of actual help'. It would do very little either practically or symbolically to bolster America's position against China, and certainly much less than American boosters of the relationship expect. 

His second key point is that perhaps India would be willing to provide America with more substantial support if it saw really fundamental issues of regional order at stake in a US-China conflict. He cites the example of the wide support given to America in opposing Iraq's invasion of Kuwait in 1990 by countries who saw basic questions of international order being tested there.

I agree with Shashank that very important issues for India would be at stake in a US-China clash. But deciding to support America against China would be much harder than joining the coalition against Iraq. In every way China is both a much more valuable partner and a much more dangerous adversary. The key question for India, and for America's other friends in Asia, is what would have to be at stake for them to make that decision? 

So it boils down to this: would India go to war with China to help America preserve the current order based on US primacy? If the answer is no, then I don't think the new warmth between America and India matters much to the future of Asia, and America's position in Asia is rather weaker than most people assume.

Photo courtesy of White House/Lawrence Jackson.


Shashank Joshi makes a good case for the importance of Obama's visit to India last month, and against my view that there is much less to the US-India alignment than meets the eye.

My argument is that their underlying strategic objectives remain too different for real strategic alignment. Shashank says that sets the bar too high. Without fully sharing America's aim of preserving its primacy in Asia, he says, India 'can take a range of other steps, from aligning itself to US allies to strengthening a diplomatic consensus against China, that together contribute to (US) primacy in a more diffuse, politically acceptable manner.'

It's a reasonable point, but I don't buy it.

We differ on this because we seem to see what is happening in Asia today differently. I think Asia's international order faces a fundamental challenge, whereas Shashank's argument suggests that he believes it remains essentially intact.

If Shashank is right, we can safely expect that issues in dispute between the region's major powers will be resolved by diplomacy operating within the status quo; business as usual, in other words. If so, the kind of low-stakes diplomatic alignment that Shashank describes might indeed make a real difference. The kind of low key, low cost diplomatic support India might offer the US will be enough to help the US preserve primacy, because its primacy would not face any serious challenge.

But what is happening in Asia today is not business as usual.

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The regional order based on US primacy is under direct and fundamental challenge from China. It wants to change the framework of norms and expectations within which regional diplomacy takes place. That is why we cannot assume that the issues raised by China's challenge will be resolved by routine diplomacy. China is aiming to change the way diplomacy in Asia works by changing the regional order.

That has big implications. The prevailing order in any international system is defined ultimately by what the major powers in the system are prepared to go to war with one another over. As that changes, the order changes. Rising countries challenge a prevailing order by showing they are willing to go to war over issues that they previously would not have. 

In 1972 China transformed the Asian order when it decided that it was not willing to risk war with America over anything except Taiwan. Now China is showing that it wants to change the order again. By undermining the credibility of Washington's alliances, Beijing shows its willingness to risk war to degrade America's position in Asia.

India's new alignment with the US will only make a real difference if it is credibly willing to support America militarily against China if and when US primacy is at stake. Diffuse and politically acceptable diplomatic support won't cut it at a time like this. So the test of the US-India alignment is simple: does anyone think India would send forces to help America defend Japan's claim to the Senkakus, or the Philippines' claims in the South China Sea, or Taiwan? If not, how does India's support help America deter China from challenging US primacy in these flashpoints? And if it doesn't do that, what use is it to Obama?  

That's why Obama's bid for India's support shows the weakness in America's position, without doing anything to strengthen it. The deeper problem is that lining up countries like India against China, even if it worked, would not help America find a stable, sustainable relationship with the country which is both its most important partner and its most serious rival. The only way to do that is to start talking to China in a new way.

Photo courtesy of the White House/Pete Souza


One of the many ways in which Malcolm Turnbull is not your average Australian politician is that he has thought quite deeply about foreign policy and strategic issues. Among aspirants to the Lodge in recent years, only Kevin Rudd has comparably developed views about Australia's place in the world. But of course that was Rudd's day job for much of his career. For Turnbull it has been, one suspects, more a sign of his wide-ranging natural curiosity, and perhaps also prudent preparation for the post which seems now for the first time to be within his reach.

He has set out his views in a series of speeches and essays over the past few years. This post draws on just three of those, including the one he gave in the US late last month as the Liberal Party's leadership crisis flared. They present a consistent and coherent set of ideas which suggest that, if he becomes prime minister, he would pursue a rather different policy from his predecessors, including and perhaps especially from Tony Abbott, on the central question of positioning Australia between America and China.

Turnbull's starting point is the magnitude of the shift in the distribution of wealth and power occurring with the rise of Asia, led by China, which he sees as 'the great geopolitical transformation of our time'. He believes this will inevitably drive major changes in the way the world works. Last month he posed the question: 'How ready are Western nations and Western-dominated multilateral institutions to adapt to a very different distribution of global power than that which they've been used to?' So unlike Tony Abbott, he does not believe that, thanks to the Anglosphere, the world will continue to be run in English.

Second, Turnbull does not assume that America has necessarily worked out how best to respond to this challenge. Though he has praised the Pivot as 'a vitally important stabilising reassuring factor in the peaceful development of our region', Turnbull has at times observed that the US is struggling to find an effective response to China's rise. Back in 2011 he said they seemed 'utterly flummoxed'.

On the other hand, he has also criticised Beijing's approach, saying in 2011 that 'China needs to be more transparent about its goals in the region', and more recently that 'there seems little doubt that the tough line taken (by China) on the disputed islands and reefs has been quite counter-productive'.

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Third, Turnbull thinks that responding to China's rise and its implications for our place in Asia requires rather more sophisticated diplomacy from Australia than we have seen so far. A few days after Obama's big Pivot speech to the Australian parliament in 2011, he delivered this thinly veiled rebuke to Julia Gillard's gushing response:

An Australian Government needs to be careful not to allow a doe-eyed fascination with the leader of the free world to distract from the reality that our national interest requires us to truly (and not just rhetorically) to maintain both an ally in Washington and a good friend in Beijing.

He suggested that this requires a careful balance in our positioning with both powers, warning against 'extravagant professions of loyalty and devotion to the United States' and also against 'equally extravagant compliments paid to Beijing.' 

And he certainly doesn't buy Kevin Rudd's idea of muscling up to China militarily:

I disagree with the underlying premise of the 2009 Australian White Paper that we should base our defence planning and procurement on the contingency of a naval war with China in the South China Sea.

Above all, Turnbull has warned about complacently, assuming that:

...the strategic and diplomatic posture that served us in the past can and will serve us unchanged in the future: or that it doesn't matter if our strategic and economic messages to our region are somewhat contradictory.

Of course it is anyone's guess how these ideas would translate into policy if Turnbull should become prime minster. We can assume he would tread carefully and pay due respect to the patterns and precedents of Australian diplomacy, at least up to a point. But it is worth reflecting that Turnbull, if he wins the Lodge, might have more scope to really explore Australia's place in the world of the Asian Century than any of his predecessors, or any of the current alternatives.

Politically he has less to fear from an open discussion of the future role of America in Asia than anyone on the Labor side of politics, because he will not suffer from Labor's deeply ingrained terror of being attacked by the Liberals as disloyal and irresponsible.

And intellectually he has more to offer than anyone on his own side of politics, simply because he has thought about it more, and more openly than his colleagues. One reason for that is his obviously deep curiosity about China, especially, simply because he seems to see it as the most interesting, as well as perhaps the most important, place in the world today. That's not a bad starting point for Australian foreign policy.


Ian Hall is right to doubt that President Obama's recent trip to India did much to build a really substantial US-India strategic partnership. But there is bit to learn from it anyway about how Obama and Prime Minister Modi are approaching the big strategic questions in Asia today – and that makes the visit worth a second look.

The first thing to see is Modi's attempt to revive a proposal for strategic consultations between America, India, Japan and Australia. This 'Quad' idea first emerged almost decade ago from the trilateral US-Japan-Australia strategic consultations but it was scuppered by Kevin Rudd soon after he won office. He worried that it would look like the beginnings of a coalition to contain China, which of course it was.

One would expect Mr Abbott to be much more enthusiastic about it. The Quad seems to fit perfectly his ideas for Australia to build closer strategic links with each of the other parties to defend the existing regional order against China's challenge. Indeed it is noteworthy that Canberra has not yet (as far as I have seen) come out with a statement welcoming Mr Modi's proposal. Perhaps following President Xi's visit last November, Mr Abbott is starting to think more carefully about whether this kind of coalition-building is the best way respond to China's growing power and ambition. Or perhaps he just has other things on his mind.

Second, Mr Modi's willingness to refloat the Quad idea reinforces a lot of other evidence that he is keenly looking for partners to help balance China's rise. He is keen for closer links with Japan (he's even considering buying Japanese submarines), and seems willing to take the strategic relationship with America into new territory. The joint statement issued with Obama during last week's visit was low on specifics, but it did explicitly align US and Indian strategic aims in the Western Pacific, which is an important symbol of India's willingness to identify itself with US efforts to counter China's rise. That was certainly how it was read, and welcomed, in both the US and Indian press.

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However, it is probably a bit soon to declare that Mr Modi is now a fully committed supporter of America's efforts to resist China's challenge in Asia. Like Abbott, Modi tends to send mixed messages. Just this week, as Brendan Thomas-Noone has mentioned, India's foreign minister joined his Chinese and Russian counterparts in what seemed a very pally meeting in which they declared their shared commitment on a new international order based on multipolarity. Not quite what Washington has in mind.

Like other new and relatively inexperienced leaders, Mr Modi might think that walking both sides of the street with America and China is smart diplomacy. Alas, it is not that easy. India has wide range of interests at stake in its relationship with China, and India cannot afford to subordinate those interests to the concerns of America or Japan, or Australia.

Third, and perhaps most interestingly, Mr Obama's visit to India tells us something about the evolution of his policies towards Asia. Whether or not he gets India's unflinching support against China, this is clearly what he wanted, and what the visit was designed to deliver. The scale of the visit itself shows how serious he is about this.

It was planned as a visit to India alone, not just a stop on a regional tour. The program – including long hours watching India's Republic Day parade – sent strong messages about Obama's commitment to building a substantive strategic relationship with India, directed against China. The US press was clearly briefed to read the whole visit this way, as they did.

We can draw three conclusions from this. The first is that, despite dramas in the Middle East and Europe, Obama still sees China as America's major strategic challenge, and he sees that challenge growing sharply. This reinforces the message on China in his Brisbane speech last November, which received much less attention than it deserved. He described the dangers posed by China, and the choices faced by Asia in response to it, in far starker terms than he had ever done before.

The second is that he has understood that his response to it so far — the pivot/rebalance – has not worked. His trip to India was his big effort to re-boot the pivot and re-energise America's efforts to resist China's assault on US primacy in Asia.

Third, despite the hugs, it didn't work, because India is not willing to make the preservation of US primacy its principal strategic aim in Asia.

Photo courtesy of White House.


Malcolm Cook and I have been debating why China has been willing to bless Tony Abbott with an FTA when Mr Abbott has so strongly opposed Beijing's political and strategic interests and aspirations in Asia.

Why has President Xi met Mr Abbott's stick with such a juicy carrot, especially when Beijing has been so quick to use the stick itself on other neighbours? (Sam raised the related and important question of why China uses the stick at all when it has so many carrots to offer, to which I have offered an answer separately.)

Malcolm's explanation is that the economic benefits to China of the FTA simply outweigh the costs to China of Australia's position on strategic questions. He does not dispute that those strategic costs are significant, because he concedes both that China is serious about creating a new order in Asia, and that Australia's attitude to this is important to Beijing. He just thinks the economic advantages to China of a FTA with Australia are big enough to counterbalance them.

I'm not so sure. I think it is more likely that Xi and his colleagues believe that wider economic opportunities and kind words will seduce Australia away from its alignment with China's strategic rivals, and encourage us to be more willing to accommodate China's ambitions for regional leadership.

Of course it may be that we are both right to some degree. But it remains important to judge the relative weight of each factor in China's approach to Australia, because the implications for our position in Asia and our future policy depend a lot on which of them predominates.

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Malcolm's argument that economic factors predominate in Beijing's decision rests on judgments about the scale of the perceived economic benefits of the new FTA to China. That is hard to judge at this stage, of course, but we need to be careful not to take last week's euphoria at face value.

The evidence suggests that FTAs actually make very little difference to trade flows or GDP growth. Our Government's only word on this is a 2005 DFAT-sponsored study, which was the source of the much-cited figure of US$18 billion boost to Australia's GDP from an FTA with China. Here is what that study said about the impact, had there been an FTA between Australia and China over the past decade:  

In terms of average annual growth rates between 2005 and 2015, the FTA is estimated to increase Australia's real-GDP growth by 0.039 percentage points; and increase China's real-GDP growth by 0.042 percentage points.

Yes, that's right – four hundredths of a percentage point. In other words, the impact on GDP for China, as for Australia, was estimated to be utterly negligible, and there is no reason to believe that the deal that has now been done will have a significantly greater effect. Indeed the Productivity Commission's 2010 report on FTAs strongly suggests that it won't. It concludes that FTAs in general do nothing at all to boost trade or growth.  

But are there other economic benefits? One view is that China values an FTA with Australia to drive reform within China, which might indirectly boost growth. One cannot dismiss this out of hand, but it does seem on the face of it very improbable. The CCP seems to have no trouble driving reform on its own, and if it needs help from outside, why Australia? China has already signed FTAs with many advanced and prosperous countries which pose it no strategic problems. How does adding Australia to the list help?

So from the available evidence there doesn't seem much reason to think that economic motives have been uppermost in Beijing's decision to cuddle up to Tony Abbott. The fact is that this FTA, like others, is much more about politics than economics, in Beijing as well as in Canberra.

And one cannot help but notice that Beijing seems to have secured precisely the political outcome I think they were aiming at. Tony Abbott did, at least while Xi was here, show himself much more open to China's vision of Asia's future than he has ever been before, and he did so in direct defiance of Barack Obama's very plain and stern warnings just two days before Xi spoke in Canberra.

Time will tell whether this proves to be anything more than a passing blip. Tony Abbott may well revert to his previous strategic alignment against China at the next opportunity. If so, it will be instructive to see how China responds. That would perhaps tell us more about its motives and purposes.

In the meantime, it is easy to understand the attractions of Malcolm's interpretation of events. It would be nice to think that Australia's economic weight and sophistication is such an irresistible magnet for China that we can dictate the terms of the relationship and compel it to accept without demur whatever strategic positions we choose to adopt.

Be we would be unwise to assume that this is what is happening. It is at least as likely that the boot is on the other foot, and that China's economy is so important to Australia's future that Beijing can set the terms of the relationship — either by carrot or stick or both — and persuade us to look more kindly on China's aspirations for regional leadership.

Photo courtesy of the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade.


Sam Roggeveen raises an important question when, apropos my debate with Malcolm Cook about China's use of diplomatic carrots and sticks towards Australia, he asks why China bothers to use sticks at all when it has so many carrots. Like many others, Sam thinks China is making a mistake by acting so threateningly to so many of its nearer neighbours when it could so easily seduce them with economic opportunities.

We explored some aspects of this issue on The Interpreter back in May, specifically in relation to China's conduct in its maritime disputes with Japan and its Southeast Asian neighbours. I argued then that China uses these disputes specifically to weaken US regional leadership and strengthen its own by showing that America cannot or will not any longer support its friends and allies in Asia militarily as it used to do.

Sam's post however raises the deeper question of why China should think that this will help build its new model of great power relations in Asia. One simple answer is that everyone else does it. Most models of leadership at all levels of human interaction – even America's — involve a mix of both carrot and stick, and there is no reason to expect China's be to any different.

But I think there may be a more specific answer: the main target of China's sticks in the East and South China Seas is not its neighbours themselves, but Washington. It wants to convince America to step back from leadership in Asia by convincing Washington that it will have to confront China militarily to preserve its regional primacy, and that the costs and risk of doing so would be immense. It is trying to intimidate America, in other words. There is a good chance that it is working.

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Most people are surprised that China would think in these terms. It does not fit our model of how the world works these days. But my whole point is that the world is working differently now from what we have known, because for the first time in decades we are seeing real strategic rivalry between great powers. China is deadly serious about its 'new model', and will run real, if carefully calculated, risks to create it.

Moreover, viewed from Beijing, such measures might seem justified, and indeed required, by America's stubborn refusal so far even to contemplate any accommodation of China's aspirations. That refusal was restated more bluntly than ever by President Obama in Brisbane just last Saturday week. For Beijing, if carrots won't work on America, sticks must be applied, even if indirectly.

Photo courtesy of the White House.