Today’s world, which Defence Minister Richard Marles aptly described in his National Press Club speech as defined by disorder, offers no such consolation.
There is chaos enough, but no sign of the order it is meant to produce. As the crises deepen and the prospects for order recede, prudence has a single meaning: to build the strength required to meet threats whose contours we can dimly discern but whose timing and precise nature remain inherently uncertain.
That imperative goes to the heart of Australia’s defence posture and will frame the debate about the 2026 National Defence Strategy. But a central insight, articulated by Arthur Tange, secretary of the Department of Defence from 1970 to 1979, retains all its force: Until you're talking dollars, you're not talking strategy.
Translating spendings into capability
The issue, however, is not simply how much is spent but whether that spending translates into capability. And on both counts there are grounds for concern.
Defence spending has certainly risen under Labor, though a significant share of the increase results from the AUKUS program the Coalition initiated. But the government’s decision to inflate the headline defence-to-GDP ratio by including pension and veterans' expenditures - items previously excluded - falls well short of clarity and candour.
The effect is far from trivial: the change alone lifts the ratio from just over 2% of GDP to the 2.8% Marles highlighted in his address.
No less important, once the definition is expanded in this way, the additional spending required to reach the government’s 3% target is dramatically reduced to just a further 0.2% of GDP.
No contribution to capability
The issue is not merely one of accounting. Those items were left out for good reasons: however justified they may be on other grounds, they do not directly contribute to military capability.
Including them obscures the fundamental question — whether Australia is allocating sufficient resources to build the forces our strategic circumstances demand.
As for the spending increase Marles announced - of $53bln over the next decade - it largely reflects amounts the government promised some time ago, and whose value has, since then, been significantly eroded by higher than expected inflation.
Nor is there any certainty the increases will actually eventuate.
The forward estimates, which cover the next four years, will include only a quarter of the projected uplift; that implies that the average increase in annual outlays in the subsequent six years must be roughly double that in the forthcoming budget — by which time any greater spending will be worth even less. Long experience suggests that such steeply backloaded promises are more easily made than honoured.
Not closing the freeriding gap
But even if those increases are delivered, they will still do little to narrow the gap between Australia’s defence effort and that of the US — a gap that, rightly or wrongly, fuels American concerns about free-riding.
On a standard, core-defence basis, Australian per capita spending over the forward estimates averages about $2430 a year, up only modestly from $2340. The US already spends around $4290 per person — close to twice as much.
And if the Trump administration’s 2027 defence budget is enacted, US per capita spending would exceed $5710, making the disparity starker still on even the most expansive assumptions about Australia’s own outlays.
Concerns about the efficiency of our spending are, if anything, just as pressing. Some few years ago, Mark Thomson and I surveyed the major reviews of how the Australian Defence Force acquires and maintains its weapons systems.
Regurgitating the malaise
One finding stood out: every review raised concerns remarkably similar, if not identical, to those identified by its predecessors.
As Paul Rizzo put it in his review of naval sustainment, the failures were longstanding, well known to Defence, and the subject of many prior reports
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There have, to be sure, been numerous remedial efforts. But it is difficult ∼ usually impossible ∼ to determine whether they have been effective.
Rarely have reforms been followed by systematic retrospective assessment: the kind of post-mortem that would establish whether the changes worked and, if not, why they failed.
The contrast with the US is instructive. Between 1989 and 2000, the American defence system underwent unprecedented change; in 1995 alone there were 23 major initiatives targeting defence procurement.
Shuffling the bureaucratic placemats
Recognising that the effects would take time to emerge, US policymakers commissioned a comprehensive, bottom-up appraisal in 2009. The results informed, and continue to drive, further rounds of reform.
There have, however, been no appraisals of comparable scale, rigour and transparency in Australia. Instead, having repeatedly shuffled the bureaucratic placemats without genuinely changing the menu, we stagger from acquisition mishap to capability fiasco and back again.
What makes this all the more striking is that our defence establishment has no shortage of senior personnel who might undertake analyses of that kind — indeed, it is remarkably top-heavy.
Here, too, the comparison with the US is telling. Australia has 248 star-ranked officers across a force of roughly 90,000 — one senior officer for every 363 personnel.
Four times the numbwer of officers
The US has around 848 star-ranked officers across 1.3 million active-duty troops — around one for every 1530. On that basis, Australia has roughly 4.2 times as many senior officers per service member as the US.
The contrast extends beyond structure to experience. Almost all serving US generals came up as majors and lieutenant colonels during the Iraq and Afghanistan wars, most often accumulating four to six combat tours.
A significant number also commanded brigades or divisions in those theatres, gaining hard-won understanding of operational command.
By contrast, Australian general officers have typically had one or two deployments, measured in months rather than years.
Only those from the special forces approach anything like the combat exposure of their American colleagues. Despite that, Australia’s military senior officers are, by international standards, extraordinarily well paid.
World's highest paid
The Chief of the Defence Force, to take but one example, earns about $1m a year — making the position almost certainly the highest- compensated military chief in the democratic world, with nearly three times the official salary of the US chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
The disparity is even more striking when set against force size: Australia’s CDF earns the equivalent of around $10,340 for every thousand uniformed members of the ADF, compared with $3600 for Canada’s Chief of Defence staff and a mere $320-$380 for the US Chairman — whose salary is spread across a force 15 times larger.
That combination - an outsized upper layer and generous individual remuneration - raises legitimate questions about whether the ADF’s command structure reflects strategic necessity or institutional inertia. And the same questions arise even more acutely about the civilian establishment.
No one could reasonably expect Defence to be a paragon of efficiency: the complexity of its tasks makes it inevitable that there will be a great deal of muddling through.
Just turning up the volume
Yet it is also clear that we could do better. And it is clear too that spending increases, such as those Marles touted, may end up being no more sensible than turning up the volume on a faulty amplifier.
There is a compelling case for greater outlays but they must be accompanied by reforms that go beyond changing administrative labels — something given only token attention in Marles’s address.
It could, of course, be that voters are happy with what they are being given: Pharaonic commitments, made to be forgotten; creative accounting, which dresses a drab reality in gilt and glitter; and a defence establishment, both uniformed and civilian, that marches to its own drum.
But that will do us little good should the evil day dawn. As the curtain of illusion is ripped away, and lives are lost that could have been saved, we may learn, too late, that what we called strength was just expensive stagecraft.