អ្វីដែលសម្ព័ន្ធ Aukus និយាយអំពីលទ្ធិប្រជាធិបតេយ្យអូស្ត្រាលី

The wisdom of shoehorning such a significant piece of foreign policy without broad consultation is questionable and highlights the startling lack of public scrutiny being applied to matters of national security in Australia

More than a month has now passed since Australian Prime Minister Scott Morrison announced the Aukus military pact. Questions about its strategic implications aside, the long-term significance of Aukus on Australia’s relations with the world will only be matched by what it has confirmed about its own body politic.

After the announcement, Australia’s federal opposition was left scrambling to compose a careful response to an agreement which fundamentally reshapes the nation’s strategic future – appear too supportive and risk looking like lackeys, appear too critical and risk looking like obstructionists.

Indeed, shadow foreign minister Penny Wong continues to note the failure of the ruling coalition to bring Labor “into the tent” on Aukus or its submarine programme.

The wisdom of shoehorning such a significant piece of foreign policy without broad consultation is questionable, especially considering that the A$100 billion (US$74 billion) submarine programme will take at least 20 years to complete – far outlasting any one coalition or Labor government.

But, dig deeper and a more systemic problem becomes evident: the startling lack of public scrutiny being applied to matters of national security in Australia.

But, dig deeper and a more systemic problem becomes evident: the startling lack of public scrutiny being applied to matters of national security in Australia.

On the extreme end of the scale is Australia’s exit from Afghanistan. After the fall of Kabul, Morrison had to explain how the lives of 41 servicemen and women lost during the war were not in vain.

Many Australians were rightfully asking: why exactly was Australia fighting in a country with little strategic significance to us or our region?

The decision to go to war in Australia is not democratic at all. In 2001, and in 2003 with Iraq, former prime minister John Howard led Australia into war with little institutional resistance. Section 61 of Australia’s constitution, after all, gives the leadership the right to declare war without a need for democratic deliberation.

Yet the tragic consequences of Howard’s decisions 20 years on have resulted in no broader debate on how the national security establishment operates or makes decisions.

Indeed, since 2001, over 5,000 pages of legislation have empowered national security institutions with new powers and immunities from public oversight. As recently as August, the senate enacted some of the strictest security laws in any developed democracy.

The laws create powerful new warrants, allowing authorities to modify and delete digital content and even take over social media accounts. This frightening increase of government powers was passed within 24 hours, to the dismay of legal and human rights groups.

Disturbingly, police raids on media outlets, the prosecution of whistle-blowers like Witness K, and opaque security laws have resulted in Civicus Monitor downgrading Australia’s democracy from “open” to “narrow”, joining the likes of Guyana and South Africa.

That is not to say that having a robust security architecture is irrational, but that conduct in spheres of national security must be held to the same level of public scrutiny and institutional oversight as any other responsibility of government.

The conduct of former defence minister Christopher Pyne is a case in point. In December, his lobbyist firm was hired by defence contractor Elbit Systems of Australia, which received A$98 million in government contracts while Pyne was in charge of the defence portfolio.

Given that Pyne was responsible for one of the largest peacetime expansions of Australia’s military capability, his actions raise questions of who has influence in its highest echelons of power.

The security establishment comprises hawkish public servants who have made a name for themselves by appearing, as former prime minster Kevin Rudd once termed it, “hairy chested”.

For example, in April, Home Affairs Secretary Mike Pezzullo claimed to hear “the beating drums of war”, urging Australia to get ready for conflict with China.

This increasingly militarised mindset to national security in Australia may play a small but important role in explaining why addressing climate change has been put on the back burner.

Yet Australia’s slide towards securitisation under the conservative coalition government is not occurring in a vacuum. The cause of bipartisanship is also being weaponised to force conformity on issues which are inherently multifaceted.

When Labor pushed back on laws which dramatically expanded the governments’ ability to access encrypted data, Morrison said, “Labor are quite happy for terrorists and organised criminals to chat on WhatsApp.” Energy Minister Angus Taylor accused the opposition of “running a protection racket for terrorists”.

Such charged language helped push national security above the remit of democratic debate – and it worked. Labor backed down soon after.

One can’t help but speculate whether Australia-China relations would have taken a different turn if, at the outset of tensions, those in power listened to those across the aisle calling for cool heads. Instead, the opposition was vilified for not showing a united front with the government.

Now, after voicing concerns about Aukus, Labor has once more been castigated for supposedly “taking bets on Australia’s future” – compelling the opposition to immediately reiterate its bipartisan stance on security matters.

From domestic security to national defence, Australia’s political class is finding little room to disagree in an environment which is starving the life out of nuanced debate. As democratic debate subsides, policy formation suffers from a lack of finely-tuned deliberation. We should remember that bipartisanship does not mean blind acceptance, and national security does not mean opaque secrecy.

The security of the country is, after all, a matter of democracy too.

SCMP