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What are War Crimes?

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Ben Roberts-Smith was once a recipient of the Victoria Cross for Australia, lionized as a hero for his military achievements in Afghanistan. However, the tide turned completely the moment he was arrested at Sydney Airport on Tuesday morning after a flight from Brisbane. He currently stands accused of committing war crimes during his service and could potentially face life imprisonment.

At a time of high tension between the United States and Iran, this major scandal involving a renowned Australian soldier raises a critical question: what exactly are war crimes?

The Fall of Roberts-Smith

Roberts-Smith joined the Australian Army in 1996 at the age of eighteen. From then until his discharge in 2013, he participated in various military operations spanning Iraq, Fiji, and Afghanistan. These honors made him one of Australia’s most highly decorated soldiers, once regarded as a national hero with accolades including the Victoria Cross, the Medal for Gallantry, and the Commendation for Distinguished Service.

However, prior to this year’s trial, Roberts-Smith had been under scrutiny since 2017 regarding reports that he had killed a teenager suspected of spotting his patrol. In 2018, The Age, The Sydney Morning Herald, and The Canberra Times published a series of articles alleging his involvement in war crimes, including the murder of civilians and ordering subordinates to execute captives. These allegations included kicking a handcuffed man off a cliff before ordering a soldier to shoot him, as well as ordering the execution of an elderly man and a disabled man—Roberts-Smith allegedly even permitted other soldiers to use the disabled man’s prosthetic leg as a celebratory drinking vessel. Despite Roberts-Smith’s attempts to sue for defamation, the court found substantial evidence supporting the truth of these claims.

While Roberts-Smith attempted to use the defamation suit to overturn the accusations, his claims were dismissed. The subsequent prosecution and trial will now determine if he will be sentenced to life imprisonment.

The Terrors of War and Related Crimes

It is shocking to many that a national hero from a democratic, civilized country like Australia could commit such atrocities against unarmed civilians. Yet, the reality is that war crimes are not a new occurrence.

The general definition of war crimes involves willful killing, torture, taking hostages, and the intentional targeting of civilians during armed conflicts. Based on the actions described above, Roberts-Smith has regrettably violated several of these rules, such as harming elderly, captive, or disabled civilians, and is thus being judged by the court.

As uncomfortable as it is to admit, nearly every nation—whether communist or capitalist, Eastern or Western—has been linked to war crimes at some point. Some cases, such as the Nanjing Massacre conducted under Lieutenant General Hisao Tani, General Iwane Matsui, and Prince Asaka, are so overt that the perpetrators were historically condemned and punished. However, when nations use excuses like “not targeting settlements directly” or justify bombings by citing the “tyranny” of another nation, we often fail to apply the label of war crimes to similar atrocities.

The Current Political Climate

Today, similar disasters are repeating in the contemporary age. The difference is that nations now employ various tactics to avoid being caught in the direct manner Roberts-Smith was. As most definitions of war crimes were established in the 20th century, they are increasingly failing to keep pace with the evolving excuses used by modern politicians.

For instance, U.S. President Donald Trump, in an effort to force Iran to reopen the Strait of Hormuz, not only set deadlines for infrastructure strikes but also threatened to target power plants and bridges nationwide. This “maximum pressure” has resulted in humanitarian disasters, including the interruption of electricity and water. Reports indicate that thousands of civilians have died in airstrikes, including the accidental bombing of non-military targets like schools. Furthermore, long-standing economic sanctions have led to the collapse of the healthcare system, leaving innocent patients and the poor as pawns in a political game. Meanwhile, Trump has repeatedly deflected responsibility, claiming all bombings of innocents were accidental, even as the civilian death toll in Iran continues to rise.

Additionally, Russia’s ongoing military operations in Ukraine have been widely condemned for expanding attacks on population centers and critical infrastructure, separating countless Ukrainians from their families. Similarly, the long-standing conflict between Israel and Palestine—involving the destruction of neighborhoods and the recent passage of a death penalty law—has sparked international concern and anger regarding the actions of the Israeli government and Benjamin Netanyahu, with some labeling them as racist or even genocidal.

Why, then, have these actions not faced the same judicial scrutiny by the United Nations or other governments as crimes committed by individuals? Why does this double standard exist, and why has the definition of war crimes not been updated to ensure governments are held responsible for the bombing of unarmed civilians?

Worst of all, what if one nation eventually monopolizes military power, launching weapons and deploying troops without consequence? Would the laws of war crimes become extinct, leaving innocents permanently in harm’s way? Therefore, we must recognize that if the definition of war crimes fails to evolve alongside modern warfare, we risk entering an era of unchecked aggression where the protection of the innocent becomes a relic of the past.

The “Self” at the Center

Today, the entire globe sits under the shadow of war. Those who initiate conflict—whether it is Putin leading the Russian invasion of Ukraine, Netanyahu enacting the blockade of Gaza to hunt Hamas, or Trump attacking Iran over nuclear disarmament—all believe they have “rational” justifications for war. Yet, in the pursuit of these wars, they fail to consider the fundamental right to life of the people living in those nations. We find that they are much like Roberts-Smith: they commit war crimes unacceptable to the world simply because they focus on their own interests, treating the existence of the “enemy” population as non-existent.

For Putin, the idea of national rejuvenation or state honor blinds him to the large-scale death and suffering of both Russian soldiers and Ukrainians. For Netanyahu, a sense of national pride and the goal of curbing Hamas terrorism leads to discrimination against Palestinians, resulting in many deaths under unjust conditions. For the Iranian government, the focus is on proving their stance to the U.S., even as their own civilians die regularly and remain isolated from the outside world. As for Trump, the goal is to eliminate the threat of Iranian nuclear weapons and declare his distaste for “tyranny,” even if this is achieved at the expense of the Iranian people.

With great power comes great responsibility—a principle that applies to everyone from military personnel to government leaders. Can those in power exercise their authority properly without killing those they perceive as enemies? Looking at the world today, the answer remains deeply worrying.

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From the Farrer By-election to Australia’s Shifting Political Landscape

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A by-election in Australian politics has recently delivered a result that has surprised many observers. On 9 May, the electorate of Farrer in southern New South Wales went to the polls, where One Nation candidate David Farley secured victory with 57.4% of the two-candidate-preferred vote, or 14,643 votes, ahead of independent candidate Michelle Milthorpe. This result made him the first non–Coalition-affiliated member ever elected in the seat since its creation in 1949, and also marked One Nation’s first-ever seat in the House of Representatives.

Farrer has long been regarded as a safe Liberal stronghold. For the past 25 years, the seat was held by former Liberal leader Sussan Ley. Yet in this by-election, the Liberal Party not only lost the seat, but also fell to third place in first-preference votes and was excluded from the final count altogether. This is more than an isolated electoral defeat. It signals a warning: the long-standing political order built around Australia’s two major parties is beginning to fracture, while One Nation is shifting from a fringe protest movement into a political force capable of challenging established conservative power. This development may reshape Australia’s political landscape in the years ahead.

One Nation: No Longer Just a “Rural Party”?

The result in Farrer is broadly consistent with One Nation’s traditional base. The electorate is a rural seat, shaped by agriculture and mining, where issues such as agricultural development, water allocation, and regional economic survival have long been central concerns. One Nation’s core support has historically come from similar rural communities.

In many of these areas, social networks tend to be relatively homogenous, with limited direct engagement with migrant or multicultural communities. As a result, some voters may be more receptive to simplified and forceful political messaging around anti-immigration sentiment, opposition to globalisation, protection of local industries, and resistance to “big government”.

However, recent by-elections suggest that One Nation’s support base may no longer be confined to rural Australia. It is increasingly extending into outer suburban areas. The Nepean by-election on 2 May offers a clear example. Although Nepean is not a rural seat, it is also not inner-city, but rather an outer metropolitan community. In that contest, while Liberal candidate Anthony Marsh managed to retain the seat, the party’s primary vote fell by nearly 10%, and One Nation secured close to 25% of the vote.

This suggests that One Nation’s appeal is expanding beyond its traditional rural strongholds into outer suburban electorates. From this perspective, Farrer may not be an isolated case, but part of a broader pattern that could emerge in similar outer metropolitan seats.

Erosion of the Two-Party Base

Recent by-elections and polling trends indicate that Australia’s two major parties are experiencing a gradual but significant decline in political dominance.

The Liberal Party lost a long-held seat in Farrer and also faced a clear drop in primary vote support in Nepean. In the 2024 Werribee by-election, Labor narrowly held the seat with less than a 1% margin in the two-party-preferred vote, while its primary vote dropped by around 17%. Meanwhile, the February 2026 Newspoll showed One Nation’s national support at approximately 27%, compared with Labor at 33%, and well ahead of the Liberal–National Coalition at around 18%.

These figures reflect a broader pattern of voter fragmentation and declining loyalty to the traditional two-party system. Importantly, a vote for One Nation does not necessarily indicate full agreement with its more extreme positions. In many cases, it reflects dissatisfaction with the political establishment and a lack of trust in mainstream political narratives.

At the same time, Australia’s trust in government remains at historically low levels. Rising living costs, increasing rental pressure, and limited policy responses have contributed to growing frustration among voters. In this environment, major parties often avoid contentious issues due to electoral risk. This cautiousness can leave voters feeling that political language is overly vague or disconnected from lived reality.

As a result, when politicians—such as those from One Nation—speak in more direct and forceful terms, even when controversial, they can still attract support from segments of the electorate seeking clearer and more decisive positions.

Major Parties’ Irresponsibility

Beyond electoral outcomes, a more fundamental question concerns the strategic choices of the major parties.

In both the Farrer and Nepean by-elections, Labor chose not to field candidates. While this may reflect a calculation that victory was unlikely, it raises a broader issue: democratic participation is not solely about winning. Elections are also opportunities for engagement, representation, and maintaining long-term trust with communities.

When parties consistently withdraw from contesting certain seats, they risk weakening their connection with voters who may already feel disengaged. Over time, this absence can contribute to further political alienation and indirectly strengthen alternative parties.

On the other hand, the Liberal Party’s approach to One Nation also reflects strategic uncertainty. As both occupy the right of the political spectrum, the Liberals have often avoided directly confronting One Nation, fearing it could further alienate conservative voters. However, this hesitation has left the party struggling to clearly define its own position, while failing to prevent voter drift toward One Nation.

For many conservative voters, the Liberal Party increasingly appears politically unclear. When a party appears unwilling to firmly defend or articulate its own ideological position, voter trust naturally erodes.

Meanwhile, Labor, despite its public commitment to multiculturalism, has at times adopted cautious positions on immigration-related issues in order to avoid losing support in marginal seats. This balancing act can also contribute to perceptions of inconsistency or lack of clarity.

Even with One Nation’s rise, a significant portion of Australian voters remain opposed to its more extreme positions. The key question, therefore, is whether the major parties still have the capacity—and willingness—to reconnect with disillusioned voters and offer a credible political alternative. If they continue relying on outdated political messaging while avoiding difficult debates, they may face increasing electoral consequences, particularly in upcoming state elections in November.

A Changing Political Landscape

As public trust in the major parties continues to decline, voters are increasingly open to alternative political voices. One Nation’s rise may be only the beginning of this broader shift.

The Farrer result is also notable for another reason: the Liberal Party did not make it to the final count, which instead came down to One Nation and an independent candidate. This indicates that independents are also gaining traction and may play a more significant role in future elections.

Australia’s two-party system is therefore facing structural pressure. The issue is not only that the major parties are underperforming, but also that they appear to lack fresh political imagination. Faced with housing pressures, cost-of-living challenges, migration debates, infrastructure strain, and generational uncertainty, both parties often rely on familiar language and established frameworks without offering a compelling new direction.

As a result, voters are no longer confined to choosing between Labor and the Liberals. Increasingly, attention is shifting toward new faces and alternative voices.

Some voters turn to One Nation because it directly expresses their dissatisfaction with the status quo. Others do so not out of full ideological agreement, but out of frustration with mainstream politics. The key question moving forward is not whether Australia will swing sharply to the right, but whether a new political force can emerge that bridges the gap between distrust of the major parties and rejection of political extremism.

Such a force may not come from traditional party structures. Instead, it may require leaders capable of articulating a new narrative for Australia—one that addresses economic pressure and social change, without resorting to the exclusion of migrant communities or minority groups.

The Next Phase of Australia’s Political Language

Migration has long been a politically charged issue in Australia. As parties continue to highlight the economic and social pressures associated with immigration—particularly through the framing advanced by One Nation—the concept of “multiculturalism” has, for some voters, lost part of its persuasive power.

While this does not reflect a broader rejection of immigration within Australian society, it does suggest that prolonged reliance on established political language may reduce public engagement and interest in these debates.

The next stage of Australia’s political language may therefore not lie in repeating existing value statements, but in constructing a more responsive public narrative. Rather than focusing solely on “multiculturalism” as a slogan, there may be a need for a framework that emphasises mutual understanding, real-world interaction, and shared participation. Rebuilding trust between communities and institutions will likely matter more than reinforcing ideological divides.

From this perspective, current political turbulence may not be entirely negative. It may instead represent a turning point. Australia’s political future may already be entering a new phase. For voters, the key challenge is not blind loyalty to any one party, but a renewed commitment to critical thinking, scrutiny, and participation. As citizens move beyond passive acceptance of established political structures and begin actively seeking alternatives, Australian politics may be entering a new era.

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One Year Into Europe’s Rearmament, Where Does Australia Stand?

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As global attention shifts toward the conflict between Israel and Iran, the Russia-Ukraine war appears to be gradually moving away from the centre of international headlines. Europe, Russia and China have all appeared relatively subdued on the surface, with none of the dramatic diplomatic clashes or military mobilisation seen in the early stages of the war. But silence does not mean stagnation. On the contrary, away from the spotlight, a deeper strategic restructuring is quietly unfolding.

Among the most significant developments is the European Union’s “ReArm Europe” initiative proposed last year.

Reshaping the order

In March last year, the United States announced a suspension of part of its military aid to Ukraine, sending shockwaves through Europe’s security architecture. Around the same time, the European Union formally launched its “Readiness 2030” defence plan, proposing up to €800 billion in military and defence investment.

The plan focuses on joint weapons procurement, expanding defence industrial capacity, strengthening air defence systems, drone and artillery production, while continuing support for Ukraine.

This is not simply an increase in defence spending, but a signal of a broader historical shift.

For decades, Europe was built on one central assumption: security would be guaranteed by the US-led transatlantic system, allowing Europe to focus on economic growth, welfare and market integration. However, as Washington’s strategic focus shifted toward the Indo-Pacific and President Donald Trump returned to the White House with a different stance on NATO and aid to Ukraine, Europe has begun to realise that the security framework underpinning the post-war order may no longer be stable.

The question is no longer whether Europe needs defence, but whether the system that once provided Europe with security still truly exists. The implications of this shift also extend far beyond Europe itself.

For Australia, which has long relied on US security guarantees and remains deeply tied to the Anglo-American strategic system, Europe’s rearmament raises a similarly sensitive and practical question: as the world moves back toward militarisation and American security commitments become increasingly conditional, can Australia still assume the old order will remain intact?

The end of the peace dividend

Since the end of the Cold War, Europe has existed in what was often described as the era of the “peace dividend”.

Following the collapse of the Soviet Union and the end of East-West confrontation, many European countries reduced defence spending, downsized their militaries and allowed defence industries to decline. Security was treated as an established condition, while economic growth, free markets and regional integration became the core priorities of European politics.

For nearly three decades, this arrangement was considered almost self-evident, with many believing that large-scale war had disappeared from the European continent. That assumption is now rapidly reversing.

From Germany’s announcement of a €100 billion special defence fund, to large-scale military expansion across Northern and Eastern Europe, and the EU’s push for joint defence investment and industrial cooperation, European military spending is rising at a pace unseen since the Cold War.

Countries are reopening arms production lines, increasing ammunition stockpiles and discussing joint defence and rapid deployment mechanisms. Europe’s strategic thinking is undergoing a fundamental transformation.

European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen reflected this atmosphere during a joint press conference in 2023, stating that Europe must adopt “a bolder security policy” and build defence capabilities capable of sustaining long-term wars and crises.

This is not merely a numerical increase in spending, but a shift in policy logic itself.

When America becomes uncertain

If the Russia-Ukraine war was the trigger for Europe’s rearmament, the deeper driving force may actually be uncertainty surrounding the United States.

For decades, Europe’s security structure rested on a core assumption: regardless of global developments, the United States would ultimately intervene and guarantee Europe’s security. From NATO to US troop deployments across Europe, the transatlantic order was treated as a permanent reality and enabled Europe to reduce military spending while prioritising economic development.

That assumption is now beginning to weaken.

From Trump-era demands for NATO allies to dramatically raise defence spending, to fluctuating US support for Ukraine and increasingly ambiguous American security commitments, Washington’s role has become less predictable.

For Europe, this uncertainty may be even more destabilising than Russia itself. What worries Europe is not only external threats, but whether the United States is still willing to bear the cost of intervention when crises emerge.

If the Cold War question was “will the enemy attack?”, today’s question has become “will the ally still show up?”

As security can no longer be fully outsourced, Europe has little choice but to rebuild its own defence capabilities.

The concept of “strategic autonomy”, once championed mainly by France and viewed by some European states as overly idealistic, is increasingly shifting from political slogan to practical policy.

Europe has realised that while it may still need the United States, it can no longer fully depend on it. But autonomy comes at a cost.

The ability to disagree

Germany and Spain have emerged as two of the most active participants in Europe’s rearmament efforts.

Germany’s defence spending is expected to rise from €95 billion in 2025 to €162 billion by 2029, while Berlin is also reviving military conscription with plans to expand troop numbers to around 460,000 personnel. For a country that suppressed its military role for decades after World War II, the shift is highly symbolic.

At the same time, these countries have begun displaying greater diplomatic independence than in previous years.

On issues ranging from the Gaza war and tariffs on China, to Iran and NATO military deployments, Germany has not always fully aligned itself with the United States.

In early 2026, Germany also led efforts to establish the “E6” alliance alongside France, Poland, Spain, Italy and the Netherlands. The grouping is seen as an attempt to form a new European core bloc focused on rare earth resources, defence industries, energy and strategic supply chains, while reducing internal EU decision-making constraints.

To some observers, the move represents an extension of the idea of a “multi-speed Europe”, in which major powers integrate first to create a more agile strategic centre.

Spain has also increasingly diverged from Washington’s positions.

During the recent US and Israeli military actions against Iran, Spain openly opposed the operations and refused to allow certain American military bases on Spanish territory to be used for support activities. Reports later emerged that Washington was considering trade pressure against Spain, highlighting how tensions between Europe and the United States are now moving beyond diplomatic disagreements into deeper strategic conflicts.

Taken together, these developments suggest Europe is increasingly preparing for a world in which American leadership may no longer be guaranteed.

This does not mean Europe seeks a break with the United States. NATO remains the core framework of European security, and the US is still Europe’s most important military power. However, Europe has begun recognising that the old order — in which the US led and Europe followed — is gradually weakening.

A new geopolitical centre of gravity may already be forming.

Australia’s place in a changing world

For Australia, these changes are particularly significant.

Australia’s security outlook has long been shaped by geography. As a continent surrounded by oceans, Australia has faced few direct land-based threats, while neighbouring countries have historically lacked the military capacity to mount a full-scale challenge.

This is why Australian defence thinking traditionally focused on “forward defence” and reliance on allies.

That environment is now changing.

As China’s influence in Pacific island nations expands — through ports, security agreements and infrastructure projects — Beijing is increasingly entering what Australia once regarded as its strategic backyard.

This does not necessarily mean China intends to launch military action against Australia, but it does suggest Australia’s surrounding strategic environment is being reshaped.

The real issue may not be whether China would attack Australia, but whether Australia can still assume control over its surrounding region as it once did.

From a purely military perspective, directly invading Australia would be extremely costly. Australia’s vast territory, dispersed population and lack of concentrated strategic targets reduce its attractiveness as a military objective.

For China, economic influence through trade, investment and diplomacy is likely far more effective than war in achieving access to resources or strategic leverage.

But this also reflects a broader reality: future great power competition may not necessarily take the form of conventional war.

Instead, competition may increasingly involve supply chains, technological penetration, ports, infrastructure, energy dependence, cyber systems and information influence.

In other words, the definition of security itself is changing.

Rethinking Australia’s position

If Europe’s rearmament exposes fractures in the post-war order, Australia faces a deeper question: how should it reposition itself amid this global restructuring?

For decades, Australia’s security policy has rested on two pillars — military reliance on the United States and historical and intelligence ties with Britain.

From ANZUS to AUKUS, these relationships have continued to deepen. Australian strategic thinking has largely been built around the Anglo-American security framework.

But if American commitments to Europe are no longer guaranteed, can Australia still assume it will always remain a priority?

This is not an argument against the importance of the US-Australia alliance, but a recognition of its potential vulnerabilities.

In an increasingly multipolar and fragmented world, overreliance on a single security provider may itself become a strategic weakness.

Should US domestic politics shift further inward, middle-power allies such as Australia may face growing pressure to develop greater strategic autonomy.

This raises another question that Australia has rarely confronted seriously: beyond the United States, are there alternative forms of security cooperation?

Europe as a partner?

Historically, Australia’s defence cooperation with Europe has remained relatively limited, partly because Europe itself long depended on American protection.

But this may now be changing.

As Europe expands its defence industries and pursues more independent strategic frameworks, countries such as France and Germany may increasingly emerge not only as economic partners, but also as important security actors.

France in particular already maintains overseas territories and military presence throughout the Pacific, from New Caledonia to French Polynesia.

Europe has always existed within Australia’s broader strategic environment — it simply was not previously viewed as a major security player.

As the United States becomes less predictable, Australia may need to consider deeper military and technological cooperation with Europe.

Australia is, in many ways, a geographically isolated country. Compared with Europe or Asia, Australians have historically faced fewer direct military threats, resulting in less public focus on defence and security issues.

Geographical distance long provided a sense of safety.

But in the era of drones, cyber warfare, satellite surveillance and supply-chain competition, distance is becoming less meaningful.

Australia can no longer rely solely on geography for protection.

This means Australia may need to place greater emphasis on international cooperation, technological capability and regional diplomacy, rather than relying exclusively on traditional military alliances.

Defence industry and strategic resilience

Europe’s rearmament also highlights another lesson for Australia: defence is not only a military issue, but an industrial one.

Australia’s defence model has long relied heavily on foreign suppliers, with most major military platforms sourced from the United States or allied nations.

During periods of stable globalisation, this model appeared efficient. But in periods of geopolitical tension, supply chain disruption or regional conflict, dependence can quickly become vulnerability.

In wartime, countries prioritise their own needs. Shortages of missiles, semiconductors, rare earths, energy and critical components could leave Australia exposed.

The war in Ukraine has already demonstrated how even European countries struggled with ammunition shortages.

Australia’s most symbolic defence initiative in recent years has been the AUKUS nuclear submarine partnership.

The project reflects Australia’s strategic anxiety — a desire to establish stronger long-range deterrence capabilities in the Indo-Pacific.

But nuclear submarines remain primarily strategic tools with limited broader impact.

By contrast, Europe is increasingly focused on rebuilding domestic defence manufacturing and linking military spending with industrial development.

From drones and air defence systems to AI-based military technologies, Europe is shifting toward a more flexible, technologically advanced and decentralised defence model.

Such an approach not only strengthens strategic autonomy, but also drives research, supply-chain integration and advanced manufacturing.

This remains an area where Australia still lags behind.

Multiculturalism and internal pressure

Australia’s multicultural structure also complicates the implications of global fragmentation.

As a highly immigrant-based society, Australia maintains deep cultural, economic and demographic links with many parts of the world.

Chinese, Middle Eastern, Indian and European communities all contribute to Australia’s diversity, which has long been considered one of the country’s strengths.

In the era of globalisation, multiculturalism enhanced Australia’s international connections and provided advantages in talent, language and diplomacy.

But as the world moves toward greater geopolitical confrontation, diversity may also create new pressures.

Political conflicts overseas increasingly spill into Australian society through protests, ethnic tensions, hate speech, disinformation and foreign influence campaigns.

This does not mean multiculturalism itself is a problem, but rather that Australia can no longer remain insulated from global conflicts as easily as it once could.

International crises are no longer distant diplomatic issues — they increasingly affect domestic politics, public sentiment and national security.

Future security challenges may therefore involve not only military threats, but also the ability to maintain social cohesion, openness and democratic values in a fragmented world.

The more unstable the international environment becomes, the harder it is for Australia to remain detached from it.

A fragmenting world

The world is shifting from unipolarity toward multipolar competition, from outsourced security toward strategic autonomy, and from traditional military power toward technologically driven warfare.

The era defined by American dominance, globalisation, low conflict and low militarisation is gradually fading.

In its place is emerging a more unstable world shaped by supply chains, strategic competition and geopolitical rivalry.

For Australia, this is not simply a trend to observe, but a reality that must be confronted.

As old security structures become less stable, the central question for Australia is no longer simply “which side to stand on”, but how to build resilience and capability amid uncertainty.

That includes reconsidering relations with the United States, Britain and Europe, while also rethinking the connections between defence, technology, energy and industry.

Future security competition may ultimately depend less on military strength alone and more on overall national capability.

The world is changing — and the pace of change may be faster than governments can adapt.

The question has never been whether change will come, but how many countries will be prepared once the old order truly ends.

 

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Victoria’s Budget: The Illusion of Surplus and the Reality of Debt

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On May 5, the Victorian Labor government announced in its 2026/27 budget that it had achieved its first fiscal surplus in seven years, describing it as the result of “disciplined financial management.” Official figures indicate that the state expects a surplus of approximately AUD 1.048 billion, while emphasising that no new taxes have been introduced this year in an effort to ease cost-of-living pressures.

From a political messaging perspective, this narrative is clearly appealing: a post-pandemic fiscal recovery, maintained public services, and no additional tax burden. For voters, this combination is naturally attractive. However, when this “surplus” is examined within the broader fiscal structure, it reveals a far more complex reality—one shaped by underlying debt pressures and long-term fiscal risks.

Where does the surplus come from?

From a structural fiscal perspective, the so-called “surplus” is not the result of a sustained improvement in the government’s financial position. Instead, it relies largely on two types of one-off or non-recurring revenue.

The first is additional funding from the federal government. Budget figures show that Victoria received around AUD 4 billion more in federal transfers than originally expected this financial year. Under Australia’s federal system, state governments are already highly dependent on such transfers, particularly in areas like healthcare, education and infrastructure. While legitimate, this funding essentially represents external support rather than a reflection of Victoria’s own economic strength.

The second source is one-off revenue from assets and licensing arrangements, particularly in the gambling sector. For example, the operator of Keno and The Lott paid approximately AUD 1.15 billion to the state government in exchange for extending its licence for another 40 years. In simple terms, this approach brings forward revenue that would otherwise have been collected gradually over decades.

From a fiscal standpoint, such income does not improve the government’s long-term financial capacity. It merely shifts future revenue into the present, making the current balance sheet appear stronger than it actually is.

As such, this “surplus” is less a sign of improved fiscal health than a timing adjustment—an accounting outcome created by bringing future income forward.

The real issue: debt and future fiscal pressure

The budget does not fully reflect Victoria’s overall fiscal position. Major infrastructure spending is not directly accounted for in the operating balance, as it is largely funded through borrowing. This allows headline figures to appear relatively stable, even as total debt continues to grow.

According to budget projections, the government expects to borrow an additional AUD 40 billion over the next four years, indicating that debt has not yet peaked and will continue to expand. By 2029–30, net debt is projected to reach approximately AUD 199.3 billion, with annual interest payments rising to around AUD 11.8 billion—equivalent to roughly AUD 32 million per day. In other words, even without any new spending, the government will still face a substantial daily cost simply to service past borrowing.

Historical comparisons make the trend even clearer. In 2014, Victoria’s net debt stood at around AUD 21.8 billion. By 2029–30, it is expected to approach AUD 200 billion—an almost tenfold increase. Over the same period, annual interest payments are projected to rise from approximately AUD 2.1 billion to AUD 11.8 billion, more than five times higher.

To manage these pressures, the government is relying heavily on continued growth in future tax revenue. Payroll tax—currently the largest revenue source—is projected to increase by around 15% by 2029–30, while land tax revenues are also expected to rise.

However, this reveals a deeper structural issue. Much of the economic activity driving higher tax revenues is itself supported by debt-funded infrastructure spending. In other words, employment growth and revenue increases are, to a significant extent, built on borrowing rather than purely organic economic expansion. As a result, even rising revenues struggle to keep pace with the compounding growth of debt and interest obligations.

In effect, fiscal pressure has not disappeared—it has simply been deferred into the future. As for how this debt will ultimately be repaid, the government has yet to provide a clear plan. Treasurer Jaclyn Symes has not outlined any concrete timeline for repaying principal, instead stating that the current priority is to “stabilise” debt rather than reduce it.

How did Victoria reach such high debt levels?

To understand Victoria’s current debt position, it is necessary to look back to the period under former Premier Daniel Andrews. At the time, interest rates were historically low, making borrowing relatively inexpensive. The government adopted an approach that treated debt as an “investment tool”: as long as borrowed funds were directed toward infrastructure capable of generating long-term economic returns, short-term borrowing was seen as justified.

Under this logic, the government accelerated a range of major infrastructure projects, including the Metro Tunnel, the Level Crossing Removal Project, the North East Link, and later the Suburban Rail Loop. These projects aimed to address long-standing infrastructure gaps, improve transport efficiency, and stimulate employment and economic activity in the short term.

However, most of these investments were not funded through current revenue, but through long-term borrowing—effectively shifting the cost burden into the future.

The problem is that economic conditions do not remain static. As interest rates rise, previously manageable borrowing costs can escalate quickly. This model came under further strain during the COVID-19 pandemic. Faced with prolonged lockdowns and economic disruption, the government significantly increased spending to support businesses and employment, relying heavily on debt as a short-term stabilisation tool. While this helped cushion the immediate impact, it also accelerated the growth of public debt to one of the highest levels in the country.

Victoria’s fiscal structure further compounds the issue. Unlike resource-rich states such as Western Australia, which benefit from substantial mining royalties, Victoria relies heavily on property-related taxes and payroll tax. This makes government revenue more sensitive to fluctuations in the housing market and economic growth, weakening its capacity to manage high debt levels during downturns.

In modern public finance, high debt is not inherently problematic. What matters is whether borrowed funds generate sustainable long-term returns and whether there is a credible plan for repayment. The issue is not simply how much is owed, but why the debt was incurred and how it will be repaid. On this front, Victoria has yet to provide a clear and convincing answer.

Relief measures: shifting the focus

Rather than directly addressing structural fiscal challenges, the government has shifted its policy focus toward cost-of-living measures aimed at improving public perception. These include free or discounted public transport, vehicle registration rebates, and the continuation of vision care services for school students. These policies are highly visible and easily felt by the public, offering immediate relief in daily life.

At the same time, the budget sets aside approximately AUD 5 billion in reserves, part of which is expected to be used to reach wage agreements with teachers—likely to minimise the risk of industrial action ahead of the November state election.

These measures can be seen not only as social support, but also as a strategic allocation of resources—prioritising short-term, tangible benefits to maintain public support in the lead-up to an election, even as longer-term fiscal pressures remain unresolved.

The government has also emphasised that “no new taxes” have been introduced this year. While this is politically appealing, the broader context tells a more complex story. Since Labor came to power in 2014, Victoria’s overall tax burden has risen significantly. Data shows that combined state and local government tax revenue per capita increased from around AUD 4,066 to approximately AUD 6,605—an increase of more than 60%, making Victoria one of the highest-taxed jurisdictions in Australia.

In recent years, the government has expanded its tax base through various measures, including higher payroll taxes for large businesses to fund mental health services, the introduction of a windfall gains tax, additional levies on businesses to repay COVID-19 debt, as well as increases in land tax and the expansion of emergency services levies.

Against this backdrop, the claim of “no new taxes” is less a sign of tax relief than an indication that the government may have reached the limits of its capacity to impose further tax increases.

What should a responsible government do?

As Opposition Leader Jess Wilson has argued, the budget reveals a cash deficit of approximately AUD 7.7 billion, alongside rising debt, increasing tax burdens and growing interest repayments. This stands in clear contrast to the government’s emphasis on a “surplus,” and highlights the absence of a coherent plan to address underlying fiscal challenges.

In the face of expanding debt, a responsible government should not focus on presenting favourable headline figures or shifting attention elsewhere. Instead, it should openly acknowledge the scale of the problem and clearly communicate the associated risks and trade-offs to the public. Without transparency about where debt comes from, how it is being used, and how it will be repaid, the issue becomes not just economic, but one of public trust and governance.

A credible fiscal strategy should include clear timelines and pathways—outlining how debt growth will be managed, when and how principal repayments will begin, and how the revenue base can be strengthened without placing excessive burden on taxpayers. At the same time, greater transparency is needed in explaining the relationship between borrowing and spending, so the public can distinguish between long-term investments and short-term fiscal support.

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