(DIR) Home
The sad state of Australia's security discourse
(HTM) Source
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Australia has all but institutionalised self-censorship in
intellectual strategic thought. An absence of secure academic
positions, widening of the policy-scholarly divide, and a corrosive
culture of in-fighting over a piece of the same (dwindling) funding
pie continues to diminish our national security studies sector.
We have curated an intellectual space in which the same voices exist
in harmonious agreement. Most strategic analysis or intellectual work
tends to be churned out by design, not debate. Who needs robustness,
let alone nuance?
Where there is difference, it tends to be personalised and emotional.
Ad hominem jabs, attacks, and improper (often lasting) accusations of
political allegiance are no longer manageable hazards of public
intellectual life. Instead, they have become entrenched realities of
our security discourse. Such forces use social media platforms, spill
ink in national newspapers, and tend to dictate the membership of
security centres and institutes - as well as the invitation lists for
seminars and conferences.
To understand the depth of tribal thinking and dysfunction, just look
at two specific issues in our international affairs sector: China and
Russia. We know that China is a critical variable in Australia's
future security. Yet a cursory assessment of Australia's commitment to
understanding China and growing our capacity to do so well into the
future, is bordering on negligent. A recent study of the Australian
Academy of the Humanities found only 17 people have graduated with
Honours in Chinese studies between 2017 and 2021—including just one in
2021.
It is doubtful that these dismal numbers are due to a lack of interest
in the field, particularly given the broad range of career pathways
such training offers—from private sector to government. More likely,
this reflects the toxicity our national China debate portrays. If you
aren't critical (enough) of Beijing's foreign policy, you are tarred
'pro-China'. If you venture deeper to understand the drivers of
Chinese strategy or consider the merits of it, you risk being branded
an agent of the Chinese Communist Party.
Australia's Russia sector is no better. Well known is the consistent
public dismay directed at the state of the sector for its inability to
invest in and grow the next generation of expertise since the original
exodus in the 1990s, after the Soviet Union collapsed. But recent
calls for more investment merely attempt to mask the deeper problem:
apparently only one variant of Russian expertise in Australia is
worthy. Attempts to dissect Russian foreign policy, consideration for
Moscow's Asia-Pacific territorial interests, its Antarctic Treaty
role, or its potential to blunt our China or Iran challenges, are
simply reflective of a 'Pro-Russia' agenda.
In today's context of the enduring Ukraine-Russia war—or 'conflict'
for those seeking to be labelled a Russian sympathiser—any commentary
or research output that questions the utility of Russia sanctions or
the Australian national interest in providing military equipment to
Kyiv, attracts accusations ranging from being a useful idiot to a
Russian spy. Why would any young scholar want to wade into such a
minefield?
There will one day be a post-Putin Russia with which Canberra will
have to co-exist in the international system. Foundational
understanding of the state, the language, its history, and its web of
bilateral—and growing—global ties, is critical for Australia to
navigate for the future adequately, let alone competitively.
Dismissing research and analysis on opportunities for dialogue with
Russia as demonstrating someone's lack of morality and values is
perplexing, given Russia has well-established military interests
throughout our neighbourhood. But that didn't stop a piece being
published in an international journal in 2020 that canvassed the
emergence of 'Russia's Australian well-wishers', hyperlinking my
publications in three of the four instances. Of course, being compared
to Professor John Mearsheimer was not itself cause for offence, nor
was being tarred a 'realist'.
Over the past few years, our sector has lost significant voices.
Brendan Sargeant, Allan Gyngell and James Goldrick are three figures
who supported the next generation of security scholars. They each
pushed us to be better analysts, to take the time to reflect on
strategic trajectories, and urged us to keep at the centre of our mind
curiosity as to what role Australia could—or should—play in the
international arena.
All three also implored us to lead by example and cultivate robust
debate on Australian security affairs. It was not the notion of
'right' or 'wrong' that shaped discourse with these giants, it was a
question of how best Australia could, or should, navigate strategic
competition. Debate over the 'why' necessarily required deep
reflection of all aspects, known unknowns, and consideration of
duelling positions.
A former senior Australian Government public servant continues to
follow my work closely, often sharing their opinions of my analysis
with—unknowingly— mutual networks. For some time, I stopped covering
Russian strategic developments, despite holding a PhD in Russian
strategy, fearing 'scholarly' retribution, or blacklisting in the
Australian intellectual community. What resulted was a vacuum, filled
quickly by non-experts bent on feeding the 24-7 news media cycle with
Russia analysis.
We can learn plenty from watching the anti-Mearsheimer camp expand in
Australia's security sector. Mearsheimer will no doubt weather the
storm, and his privilege no doubt promotes his sense of safety in
continuing to contribute to the international security discourse. For
emerging analysts and early career researchers, things are not so
easy. One must decide on either side of a binary construct in which
expertise does not get to exist in the nuance, the middle-ground.
Facts no longer exist; emotion shapes Australia's security discourse.
What does this mean for the future of our intellectual culture?
Australia is growing a next generation of scholars and experts who are
going to self-censor to navigate increasing political pressures. The
damage will be generational.
If you have concerns of the foreign influence or espionage variety,
use the well-known systems in place to act on it. Robust debate and
dialogue are a foundational aspect of our liberal democracy, something
we should all work to protect and promote. As a sector, we need to
raise the bar and instil a culture of durable contestation. Demand
more of your colleagues on this front. And to you, the former senior
public servant, please do reach out directly for a coffee. My shout.
______________________________________________________________________
Served by Flask-Gopher/2.2.1