The Strategist

Pacific soldiers of the Great War

That men from remote South Pacific islands were caught up in World War One's maelstrom says a lot about the war's sheer destructive power.

These men, Sergeant Pulu and Private Pineki, served in the New Zealand forces. They came from Niue, a small island which at the time was a colonial territory of New Zealand. Their photographs are part of a display commemorating Pacific soldiers in the Tangata o le Moana exhibition at Te Papa Tongarewa (Museum of New Zealand).

Sgt Pulu and Pte Pineki fought at Gallipoli in 1915. Both men died at sea while returning to New Zealand in the following year.

Car-free communities and climate criminals

Here's some things that caught my eye this week...

• A car-free community in Germany...

• Brand new suburban homes being demolished in the US...

• Global warming forces Carteret Islanders to abandon their homes...

It's ironic, and tragic, that the car-free Carteret Islanders have to flee their ancestral islands because of the greed of these climate criminals.

Canberra's defence white paper a problem for Wellington

Australian army signaller, Dili, East Timor (photo: David Axe).

On Saturday the Australian government released a defence white paper. Here's initial comment by Canberra defence analyst Professor Hugh White.

White criticizes the white paper's emphasis on the Australian navy and airforce...

"Meanwhile the army has been overlooked. This white paper sensibly rejects the idea that military priorities should swing sharply towards the land forces needed for stabilisation and peacekeeping operations. But it goes too far the other way and risks leaving the army too small to fill the tasks expected of it in places such as East Timor and Papua New Guinea."

If this is the case - and I'll have to take White's word for it, as I haven't read the white paper yet - this should be of concern to the New Zealand government. Why? Because if the Australian army is stretched in dealing with unrest in the South Pacific, Australia will look to New Zealand to shoulder an increasing share of the burden.

This is a problem for New Zealand, given the rundown state of our small defence force, its scatter-shot deployment from East Timor to Afghanistan, and limited mobility. Let's hope that our recently announced defence review carefully considers this matter.

Playing a long game in the South Pacific

In this opinion piece, former New Zealand diplomat Neil Plimmer argues that New Zealand needs to take a long-term view of its Pacific island neighbourhood:

"The standard view of the Pacific is that each country is different and the various crises we deal with are deeply different too. At one level that is patently true....But a long view might tell us about underlying commonalities....there will be setbacks to progress as we see it, and riots, coups and the like should not surprise."

Over the last 40 years, Wellington's attitude towards the South Pacific has veered between neglect and intense short-term concentration on crises. What's missing is not simply a long-term view, but also a sustained and substantial focus on the region and its political, economic, strategic, social, demographic and environmental trends.

Why is this important? Because the South Pacific is a key strategic region for New Zealand. Any military threats (barring esoteric ones like cyberwar) have to transit the South Pacific to reach New Zealand. Instability in Pacific nations has a flow-on impact for New Zealand - such as deployment of troops to restore order, an increase in immigrants, more aid money, and the growth of transit points and safe havens for transnational criminals. And Asian great powers and corporations are keen to exploit the region's mineral, timber and maritime resources, and are unscrupulous in how they do so. These are vital interests for New Zealand, and we should be on top of them.

Part of the problem is that Wellington has limited capacity to think long and deeply about the region. Our ability to gather intelligence in the region, particularly humint, is inadequate. The handful of intelligence analysts and foreign policy staff who work on Pacific "desks" focus on immediate crises or events: the latest unrest in Fiji, the next summit of the Pacific Islands Forum, the upcoming visit by a Pacific head of state. For diplomats, the South Pacific is a career backwater. High-fliers get posted to places like London, Washington DC, Canberra, Tokyo and Beijing. The B-graders, and those in the twilight of lacklustre careers, go to Suva, Apia, Honiara and Port Moresby.

If we're to get serious about the South Pacific, one of the things Wellington must do is develop a core of high calibre people - intelligence officers, diplomats, aid workers, analysts - who are passionately interested in Pacific affairs, who can speak one or more of its languages, who spend plenty of time living and travelling in the region, who are good at cultivating contacts, and who see the study of the region as a true vocation. We could also better tap the wealth of knowledge about the region that exists in our Pacific communities in New Zealand.

Raiders of the Lost Archives: "Dark Side of Paradise"

Every weekend I ransack the lost archives of The Strategist, to recall what I posted a year ago to the day (or thereabouts).

It was 18 June 2007. I posted "Dark Side of Paradise: Conflict in Melanesia", in which I sketched why instability is an enduring feature of post-colonial societies like Papua New Guinea: 

"So, why the 'trouble in Paradise'? The causes of instability are complex. They include ill-disciplined armies and paramilitary police, volatile ethnic politics, and attempts by states, often weak post-colonial constructs, to impose authority over clans."

Last week I had lunch with a friend who was an election monitor at Papua New Guinea's 2007 general election. He was based at a polling station in Western Highlands. As voting started, warriors from feuding clans clashed in a running fight around the polling station.

"Did you get some good photos?" I asked. He shook his head: "I was too busy watching out for flying arrows." 

Gurkhas of the South Pacific

It's well known that the British army has its own foreign legion in the form of the Gurkhas - Nepalese soldiers who have fought for the British since the early 19th century. At present, around 3500 Nepalese serve in the Brigade of Gurkhas.

What's less known is that over 2000 Fijians are also serving in the British army (h/t Glamdring). The British like the Fijians because they are good soldiers and provide manpower for understrength infantry battalions. The Fijians are lured by good wages and steady jobs. In the Royal Regiment of Scotland, almost one soldier in ten is Fijian, and several Fijians have been killed in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Recently, the Sydney Morning Herald suggested that the Australian army could also recruit Pacific Islanders for service in the 'Arc of Instability'. The Interpreter took issue with this, partly on the basis that hiring large numbers of Fijian soldiers could compromise Australian army operations if it had to "deploy to Fiji".

This is a good point, but there's a more important issue at stake. Since 1987, Fiji has experienced three military coups and a great deal of unrest (including another coup, and a mutiny). The country is presently ruled by a military strongman, Commodore Frank Bainimarama. Having large numbers of ex-mercenaries hanging about, whether British or Australian-trained, plus serving and former members of the Fiji Military Forces, does not augur well for future stability.

Vengeance is Mine

Jared Diamond has written a superb article on how vengeance drives tribal fighting in the New Guinea highlands. The clans of the Nipa tribe, who live in Southern Highlands province of Papua New Guinea, exist in a perpetual and shifting state of warfare and alliances with other clans and tribes.

"Fighting among the Nipas differs in several respects from fighting among other New Guinea Highland groups, such as the Baliem Valley Dani....Dani public battles emerged as somewhat ritualized, announced in advance by the issuance of challenges, confined to daylight hours, and abandoned in case of rain. By contrast, Nipa fighting is unannounced and takes place day or night, rain or shine, so clans must be always on the alert. Warriors post guards constantly, up to ten kilometres away from their village, in order to protect their houses, families, gardens, and domestic animals."

Diamond compares the non-state societies of the Highlands, where individuals and clans themselves seek vengeance for wrongs (either through violence or compensation) to modern western societies, where the state takes this role, often at considerable psychological cost to the victims.

>> "The Dawn of Warfare"

>> "In Praise of Peltasts"

Trouble on the Kokoda Trail

Recent protest on the Kokoda Trail (photo: Glen Campbell).

Mines in Melanesia often spell trouble. In Papua New Guinea, where the minerals sector is dominated by Australian corporates, disputes between local landowners and miners are commonplace.

The worst conflict occurred on Bougainville. In 1989, mining at Panguna fused with land rights protests and secessionist politics to spark an ugly civil war that lasted for a decade. Trouble also occurred at Ok Tedi and Porgera, large mines in PNG's interior.

Fresh controversy

An Australian company's plan to mine gold and copper on the Kokoda Trail is causing fresh controversy. Local landowners recently blockaded the trail, stopping trekkers from walking the route, but not for the usual reasons.

Cocaine Colony

The Observer explains how Colombian drug cartels have colonized the West African country of Guinea-Bissau, turning it into a transit hub for cocaine shipments from Latin America to Europe:

"the target of the South American traffickers have been the 'failed states' along the Gold Coast, where poverty is extreme, where society has been ravaged by war and the institutions of state can be easily bought off - so that instead of enforcement, there is collusion. And no more so than Guinea-Bissau, whose weakness makes it a drug trafficker's dream."

Asian and African traffickers are also using Guinea-Bissau, to ship heroin in the opposite direction, from Southeast Asia to the United States.

This suggests that the tyranny of distance does not apply to the narcotics trade, because vast profits outweigh increased shipment costs. For New Zealand and Australia, it highlights the vulnerability of unstable Pacific countries, like Solomon Islands, Papua New Guinea and East Timor, to the big money of international traffickers.

But the main lesson I drew from this article is that drug cartels don't necessarily need failed states as transit hubs. An isolated province within a relatively stable and prosperous country could serve equally well.

Hey, Don't Forget About Us!

Following on from my earlier post on the Global Peace Index, I'm puzzled about why a number of countries, notably Afghanistan, Congo, Somalia and Iceland, didn't make the list. Somalia and Afghanistan might have "fought" with Iraq for the wooden spoon, while Iceland could have ousted Norway from the most peaceful country perch.

Also omitted was a swathe of West Africa and most Pacific island countries. This is rude. Here in the South Pacific we've had our fair share of conflicts and coups, but only Papua New Guinea (ranked 88 out of 121) and New Zealand (2) made the list.

I'd guess that Samoa, one of the post-colonial success stories of the South Pacific, would feature high on the peace list. On the other hand, Fiji, which has suffered four military coups, and Solomon Islands, which experienced a coup, ethnic conflict and economic collapse, would fall in the bottom third.

Kevin Rudd and the 'Arc of Instability'

Australian troops and police in Honiara, Solomon Islands, April 2006.

In a recent speech on Australia's national security policy, Australian Labor Party leader Kevin Rudd made several interesting observations about Australia's strategic situation in the 'Arc of Instability'. This is the island chain to Australia's north - its 'immediate neighbourhood' - stretching from Indonesia through New Guinea to the islands of Melanesia.

Rudd painted a bleak future for the Arc - a zone of failed or failing states, corrupt governments, political and ethnic violence, poverty and pandemics. He identified the situations in East Timor, Solomon Islands and Fiji as precarious:

Fiji is of major concern given unresolved political tensions, the disposition of the police and the armed forces, and the relative density of the urban population.

In Rudd's view, Australia's strategic interests in the Arc have "deteriorated sharply over the last decade", with the prospect of more failed states and a strategic vacuum filled by outside powers. Unless something is done urgently, the cost to Australia will be high - in dollars (the cost of military interventions and humanitarian assistance), public health risks, and waves of refugees. 

This is an attempt by Rudd to paint the Coalition government as crisis-driven - responding to Pacific instability with a 'send in the troops' knee-jerk reaction. But it also reflects a view that unrest is a symptom of a deep-seated malaise in Pacific societies. States 'fail' because they are poorly governed by corrupt politicians. Disorder occurs because there is no 'economic growth' that provides people with jobs and prospects.

Seen from this perspective, sending in troops is like sticking a band-aid on a weeping wound. In a crisis, soldiers temporarily restore order but cannot address the underlying problems. As Professor High White, head of Strategic Studies at the Australian National University, recently commented:

Australia hasn't yet found what else you send apart from the army to try and address those deeper political, social, economic problems that are the real root of the issue.

Rudd's answer, announced in the speech, is a 'Pacific Partnership for Development and Security'. This is a genuinely big idea, which would involve a large and long-term Australian commitment to rebuild the "economic and social infrastructure" of Pacific countries and address the root causes of instability.

It's also an interesting idea, because it echoes the findings of a recent British study of the Northern Ireland conflict. As I noted in 'Counterinsurgency lessons from Northern Ireland', the study suggests that there

is a need to identify situations which could lead to insurgency or civil war, and take "early, substantive, visible" action to address root political, social, economic and religious problems.

Would the 'Pacific Partnership for Development and Security' work? I'll analyse this question in a subsequent post.

The Fighter's Guard: Australia and the 'Arc of Instability'

Back so soon? Australian troops patrolling in Honiara, Solomon Islands, April 2006.

It's easy to understand why Canberra worries about the island arc to Australia's north - Indonesia, New Guinea, and Melanesia. In 1942 the Japanese thrust deep into the Southwest Pacific, threatening to invade Australia from island bases. Allied victories at the Kokoda Trail, Guadalcanal and Midway averted the threat. But Australians remember the close call, and this is reflected in their approach to defence.

Australia's defence policy is based on several key principles:

• alliance with the United States, but stand alone if necessary;

• defence of the mainland, and domination of Australia's air/sea approaches;

• attacking hostile forces as far away as practicable.

To do this, Australia needs high-tech air and naval forces with a qualitative edge over regional forces. It must also exert strategic influence over the island arc, to prevent hostile powers establishing a presence. For Australia, the island arc is like a fighter's guard - get inside the guard and the fighter becomes unbalanced and exposed.

The problem for Canberra is that in recent times the arc has become unstable, with failed states, corrupt governments, violence, poverty and environmental degradation. Indonesia is struggling with Islamic extremism, and Melanesia is plagued by political and ethnic conflict. In the 1990s the phrase 'Arc of Instability' was coined. As Australian Labor leader Kevin Rudd recently commented, it has "gone from being a strategic concept a decade ago to an unsettling reality today".

Instability raises the prospect of rising regional powers, such as China, gaining footholds close to Australia. It is not difficult to imagine a failing state seeking financial assistance from Beijing, and providing basing rights in return. For Canberra, China's rise, and the perceived erosion of Australian influence in the Arc as Pacific states 'look north', are of growing concern.

There are more immediate worries. Canberra perceives that the Arc is becoming a haven for terrorists, drug traffickers, people smugglers and criminal financiers. These elements are attracted by growing lawlessness, corruption, and proximity to Australia. Conflict and economic collapse could trigger refugee waves, and require Australian intervention to evacuate nationals and provide humanitarian aid.

Nightmare scenarios include a fragmenting Indonesia, and the collapse of Papua New Guinea (PNG), a former Australian colony. With substantial security, economic and consular interests in PNG, Canberra would feel obliged to take control of the country. This would be an enormous drain on finances and manpower, and would expose Australian personnel to great risk.

Recognizing the high stakes involved, Canberra provides PNG with substantial financial support, and assists other governments with reforms. Since 1997 Australia has led a number of regional interventions in response to crises - notably East Timor and Solomon Islands.

There is currently a debate in Canberra about whether Australia should be more proactive in addressing the economic and social roots of instability - more 'fences at the top of the cliff'. Invariably, this would involve greater cost and intrusion into Pacific sovereignty. One thing is certain - Canberra sees a bleak future for the Arc of Instability, and is resigned to further intervention.

(This post is part of the Oceania series collaboration between Coming Anarchy, The Strategist, and Pacific Empire.)   

Resource Wars in Melanesia

Phil Howison writes here at Coming Anarchy about resource wars in Melanesia (part of the Oceania series collaboration between Coming Anarchy, The Strategist, and Pacific Empire):

"In an increasingly interconnected world with high commodity prices, and as high-powered weapons continue to proliferate in Oceania, we will undoubtedly see more wars over resources in the region."

The White Man's Anger

In the mid-19th century, fighting raged across much of New Zealand's North Island as Maori tribes resisted the advance of British troops and land-hungry settlers.These conflicts are called the New Zealand Wars, or Te Rire Pakeha - a Maori phrase meaning 'the white man's anger'.

Sparks

Maori are a Polynesian people who migrated from the eastern Pacific around 1350 AD. By 1840, when Britain assumed sovereignty over New Zealand, Maori lived in subsistence-based tribal communities. After 1840 British settlers began arriving in earnest. Many Maori grew concerned about land loss, and formed the 'King Movement', a landholding alliance centred on the Waikato confederation. Concurrently, the British became exasperated that Maori tribes retained their independence and seemed disinclined to obey British law.

Land and sovereignty sparked conflict. But not all tribes took up arms against the British - some were neutral, some fought with the Crown, and some did all three at different times.

'Encampment of Chute's forces near Putahi pa, on the Whenuakura River': Major Gustavus von Tempsky.

Conflagration

Although there were limited conflicts in the 1840s, the heaviest fighting occurred between 1860-72. In Taranaki and Waikato (1860-64), imperial and colonial troops were deployed against the King Movement. The Taranaki fighting ended in stalemate, after the British failed to break a line of fortifications. But the British invaded and occupied Waikato, the King Movement's heartland, fighting pitched battles and using steamships on rivers to outflank Maori defences.

Then came bush fighting campaigns (1864-72), in which units of frontiersmen and their native allies (kupapa) fought the war parties of Maori prophets. Using charismatic leadership and skillful tactics, Maori leaders Titokowaru and Te Kooti inflicted severe defeats. But the colonial forces also had inspired leaders - including Major Te Keepa Te Rangihiwinui and the Prussian Major Gustavus von Tempsky. Through irregular tactics and dogged pursuit, such commanders were able to wear down Maori resistance.

The wars featured several innovations, most significantly the 'modern pa'. These were Maori fortifications, engineered to nullify the British advantage in superior weaponry and numbers, which consisted of anti-artillery bunkers and fighting trenches. Defenders could sit out bombardments, then decimate storming parties from concealed firing positions. Pa were formidable defences, and British forces suffered heavy losses when attacking pa.

Irregular units also featured prominently, partly because imperial troops could not adapt to an unorthodox bush-fighting style. The Forest Rangers, Colonial Defence Force cavalry, and Kupapa bands were used for scouting, pursuit and forest fighting. The Kupapa were independent contingents, armed by the British but led by tribal chiefs, similar in style to Goth contingents who fought for the Western Roman empire.

Embers

Maori resisted the British advance with some success, inflicting reverses on British forces. But ultimate defeat broke Maori independence, and cleared the way for a flood of settlers, land confiscation and laws which by 1900 stripped Maori of most of their land.

Today, New Zealand is grappling with the consequences of the 'white man's anger', as tribes seek Government redress, and many Maori continue to suffer poverty, landlessness and crime.

[This post is the latest in a series on Oceania's security challenges. Coming Anarchy is hosting the series, and Phil Howison at Pacific Empire is also contributing. See here or here for the posts so far.]

Fanning the Embers: China and Instability in Oceania

Razed buildings in Honiara, Solomon Islands, April 2006 (photo: Nick Reese/AP).

Much of the debate about China's rise in Oceania focuses on strategic considerations. Will Oceania become an arena of strategic competition between the US and China? How will China's rise affect the interests of longstanding Pacific players, such as the US, Australia, New Zealand and Japan?

But what about the impact on Pacific islands themselves? Beijing's engagement, and the activities of migrant Chinese, is exacerbating poor governance and corruption, fanning the embers of instability, and depleting natural resources.

Exacerbating poor governance and corruption

Most Pacific islanders live in villages, close to the land and the sea, or retain ties to village life. They are resilient and able to cope with hard times. But their governments are often fragile and characterized by poor governance and corruption.

Lavish aid, provided by China and Taiwan as part of their diplomatic rivalry, exacerbates these problems. Aid money is siphoned by corrupt politicians and officials. It perpetuates reliance on outsiders. The 'no strings attached' nature of the aid undermines domestic and international efforts to promote effective administration.

Fanning instability

The China-Taiwan rivalry is also playing out in domestic politics, with Beijing and Taipei bribing and bankrolling politicians. Consequently, politics in some countries are becoming more corrupt. After the April 2006 elections in Solomon Islands, politicians were bribed to support pro-Taiwan or pro-China camps. Rioting in Honiara was partly sparked by popular anger about politicians being bought by Asian money.

The influx of Chinese migrants to Oceania is feeding instability. Chinese increasingly dominate the business sector, and this is resented by locals. During unrest in Solomon Islands and Tonga in 2006, Chinese businesses were targeted by looters. The situation was particularly serious in Honiara, where the Chinatown was razed and Chinese residents fled the country. And Triads have infiltrated Pacific capitals, trading in drugs, weapons and people, and using the islands as transhipment points to Auckland, Sydney, Los Angeles and Vancouver.

Depleting natural resources

Pacific governments have an abysmal record of protecting their natural resources - principally timber, fisheries, and minerals. Typically, weak governments allow foreign companies to pillage resources, in the process destroying forests and polluting waterways and seas.

China is engaged in a global search for natural resources, and this encompasses Oceania. A Chinese corporation is building a large nickel mine in Papua New Guinea (possibly the first of a number), and Chinese fishing fleets are hammering the Pacific's fisheries. Unless checked, China's activities will further deplete Oceania's resources, degrade the environment, and deprive Pacific islanders of their livelihood.

Unintended consequences?

China's military involvement in Oceania has so far been low key. This could change quickly. One scenario could be that Beijing dispatches troops to protect Chinese nationals caught up in civil unrest. And, as I noted in Dark Side of Paradise, large mines are a major source of conflict in Melanesia. Threats to Chinese mining operations from landowners could see Beijing deploy soldiers as 'security guards', or provide Pacific armies with 'military advisers'. The instability that Beijing is fanning could inadvertently trigger Chinese military intervention.

[This post is the latest in a series on Oceania's security challenges. Coming Anarchy is hosting the series, and Phil Howison at Pacific Empire is also contributing. See here or here for the posts so far.]

When the Last Tree Falls

The future for Solomon Islands? Easter Island's deforested landscape. (Photo: Tomas Munita.)

Between 900 and 1600 AD Easter Islanders chopped down the forest on which they relied for food, fuel and raw materials. In doing so, they caused the collapse of their isolated Polynesian society; starvation, warfare and population crash ensued. When Captain James Cook visited Easter Island in 1774, he described the islanders as "small, lean, timid, and miserable", living in abject circumstances on a windswept island.

In Collapse, Jared Diamond poses this question - what did the Easter Islander who cut down the last tree say as he was swinging his adze? Diamond described Easter Island as "the most extreme example of forest destruction in the Pacific, and among the most extreme in the world."

Now, another Pacific society - Solomon Islands - is close to cutting down its last tree. A British protectorate until 1978, as an independent state Solomon Islands has been a disaster. Politics and government are rife with corruption, nepotism and maladministration. Since 1998 the archipelago has been wracked with violence, quelled only after New Zealand and Australian troops restored order.

Solomon Islands gets most of its revenue by licensing Asian timber companies to clear-fell its rainforests. Much of the money has been squandered or pocketed by corrupt politicians. Many landowning communities, lured by easy money, sold their forests to the loggers. Consequently, much of the lowland forest has been chopped down, and within five or so years most forest will be gone.

Most Solomon Islanders live in small villages. They make a living from gardening, hunting and fishing. The consequences of deforestation will be disastrous: loss of timber, raw materials, food, soil, and water quality. This is to say nothing of the ecological cost - the destruction of habitats for myriad species of animal and plants.

The upshot will be more violence, as people fight for scarce resources or migrate to the capital city, Honiara. Here, high unemployment, overcrowding and the mixing of rival ethnic groups has produced a volatile mix. Further deployments for Anzac troops are likely.       

Solomon Islands is often termed a 'failed state'. New Zealand and Australia have attempted to restore order and encourage good governance, the rule of law, and democratic decision-making. But Solomon Islands was never a state to begin with, and never will be. Rather, it is an artificial construct of many islands, communities and ethnicities, presided over by a kleptocracy of national politicians. Australian and New Zealand efforts, while well-meaning, prop up a government of thieves.

There is a case for Australia and New Zealand to govern the archipelago. This is not an argument for empire, for "red-coated soldiers with pith helmets forming up", as Jeff commented on How not to win a war. Some form of guardianship, in partnership with tribal leaders, is in order. Communities should be left to rule themselves, with Australia and New Zealand protecting them against rapacious outsiders - criminals, terrorists, and loggers - by force of arms if necessary.      

Transnational Crime and Street Gangs in Oceania

Phil Howison writes about organized crime in Oceania here at Coming Anarchy.

"Home-grown street gangs are a growing threat to Oceania’s island states. In addition, criminal organizations from around the world have taken advantage of the economic vulnerability and weakness of the Pacific islands, using them as bases for money laundering, drug smuggling, illegal immigration and other nefarious activities." 

The Long Game: China's Rise in Oceania

Rolling out the red carpet: China's President Hu Jintao greets PNG Prime Minister Michael Somare, 2004.

Oceania is often seen as a strategic backwater, isolated from the whirlpool of great power politics. This is far from true. In the 19th century, Western powers carved up Oceania's islands. In World War Two and the Cold War, American preponderance in the Pacific was challenged, unsuccessfully, by Japan and the Soviet Union. For well over a century, Oceania has generally been a Western lake.

Rising Asian powers, in particular China, are now quietly contesting the West's stranglehold. Over the past decade Beijing has boosted its regional profile and presence. This is visible in new embassies, lavish aid and loan packages, high profile political visits, red carpet treatment for Pacific leaders, and substantial commercial investment. This comes at a juncture when US interest in Oceania has waned, and Britain, a former colonial power, has left the region.

There are a number of reasons for Beijing's interest in Oceania:

• Political machinations: China seeks to counter Taiwanese influence. Six Pacific states recognize Taiwan; the rest recognize China. Beijing wants to keep its allies onside and persuade the others to leave Taiwan's camp. As inducements, Beijing spends lavishly on aid programmes, and provides soft loans and debt write-offs for struggling Pacific states.

• Raw materials: China needs oil, minerals and timber to fuel its burgeoning economy. East Timor and Papua New Guinea (PNG) have significant oil and gas deposits, while Melanesia is rich in minerals and timber. China has invested heavily in PNG's mining, timber and fishing sectors. It has carried out extensive oceanographic research in Oceania - this includes surveying seabed minerals and fish stocks. Large Chinese fishing fleets exploit deep sea fisheries.

• Migrants: Beijing has consular responsibility for Chinese people who have recently migrated to Oceania. Migrant Chinese dominate the small business sector in island capitals. In PNG, Chinese businessmen have become influential in the mining and timber industries. Migrants provide Beijing with useful intelligence and links to local politicians and officials.

• Military threats: China keeps a watchful eye on US military movements in Micronesia. If China attacked Taiwan, Guam would be a key staging post for US forces moving to assist Taipei. Until recently the Chinese military maintained a base on Tarawa (Beijing closed the base when Kiribati recognized Taiwan). This base was part of China's space warfare programme, and spied on the US missile testing range at Kwajalein Atoll (Marshall Islands).

China's engagement has troubling implications for Pacific island states, and for New Zealand and Australia, which I will explore in a later post. It may also presage a wider Chinese ambition, one in which Oceania forms the outer zone of a Chinese sphere of influence.

One trend is evident. The increasing presence of China, and Japan, Korea and Taiwan, reflects a gradual shift from a Western dominated Pacific order to a more complex situation in which rising North Asian powers challenge the dominance and comfortable assumptions of the traditional players. 

[This post is the latest in a series on Oceania's security challenges. Coming Anarchy is hosting the series, and Phil Howison at Pacific Empire is also contributing. See here or here for the posts so far. Photo: Xinhua.]

The Arc of Instability

The Oceania series continues at Coming Anarchy, with Phil Howison posting here about the 'Arc of Instability' and 'Africanization of the South Pacific':

'"Arc of Instability" and "Africanisation" are both important in understanding security concerns in the Pacific.  They have inspired several interventions by Australia and New Zealand, and are reflected in aid and assistance packages.  While this has resulted in accusations of "neo-colonialism" and "imperialism," most Pacific states admit that there is a need for international involvement to prevent conflict...'

[Photo: BBC: a burning hotel in Honiara, Solomon Islands, during the April 2006 riots.]

The Regions of Oceania

Phil Howison of Pacific Empire has written the second guest post in the series on Oceania's security challenges here at Coming Anarchy.

In his post Phil defines the three sub-regions of Oceania - Melanesia, Micronesia and Polynesia - and highlights some of the big issues, including great power rivalry:

The geo-strategic environment has heated up...as Western dominance is challenged by aggressive Chinese diplomacy. Meanwhile, Australia and New Zealand are increasingly concerned with maintaining security in their Pacific backyard, fearing an influx of refugees, transnational crime and even terrorism from the “arc of instability”.

Dark Side of Paradise: Conflict in Melanesia

Ask New Zealanders what springs to mind about Oceania, and the answer will involve palm-fringed islands and blue lagoons - paradise. Pacific islands are holiday destinations, places to escape winter. It's easy to forget that there's a dark side to Pacific life; people are surprised when an insurrection or coup occurs.

This is odd, as anyone who lived through World War Two, or was born in its shadow, will know. Names of Pacific battles - Coral Sea, Guadalcanal, Kokoda Trail, Tarawa - signified great violence. And since the 1960s Oceania has been plagued by political conflict, particularly in Melanesia - the chain of islands stretching from New Guinea to New Caledonia:

• wars of independence in West Papua (1963 onwards), East Timor (1975-99), Vanuatu (1980), New Caledonia (1980s), Bougainville (1988-1997);

• ethnic warfare in Solomon Islands (1998-2003) and Papua New Guinea's highlands (ongoing);

• military coups in Fiji (four since 1987) and Solomon Islands (2000), and mutinies in PNG, Fiji and Vanuatu.

So, why the 'trouble in paradise'? The causes of instability are complex. They include ill-disciplined armies and paramilitary police, volatile ethnic politics, and attempts by states, often weak post-colonial constructs, to impose authority over clans.

The rugged Melanesian terrain has influenced the development of many clan-based ethnic groups, confined to small territories, each with distinct languages. Fiercely independent, these groups resist state control. Large mines are a particular source of trouble. The state appropriates land, resources and mining income, and mining destroy forests, rivers and gardens. Local people protest, and sometimes protest turns violent.

A good example of this is Bougainville's Panguna mine. From 1972-1989 CRA mined copper and gold on the island of Bougainville, which is notionally part of PNG. Expats who worked at Panguna talk about how the coastal town of Arawa resembled a resort, of scuba diving in crystal water, of playing on the golf course.

Paradise lost. In 1989 Bougainville rebels - angered by land loss and environmental destruction - attacked the mine. Fighting between the rebels and army forced the mine to close and expats to flee. A brutish state of anarchy and civil war ensued in which 10,000 Bougainvilleans died. The conflict also destabilized PNG's economy and government - the army mutinied in 1997 after the government hired foreign mercenaries to take down the rebels.

In 1987/88 New Zealand brokered a peace deal. By then Arawa was a ruin. The port was smashed. Roads were trails in the undergrowth. The golf links were smothered in tall grass. Mine plant machinery lay rusting. The peace has held, but Bougainvilleans are determined that Panguna, a symbol of violence, must not re-open.

Bougainville is a salutary lesson of how order can quickly turn to chaos. It also suggests that a stable Melanesian government is one that leaves communities alone without trying to 'develop' or control them. Such governments, with help from New Zealand and Australia, could be guardians, protecting local communities against rapacious outsiders, such as Asian timber loggers who plunder Melanesia's rainforests, and guarding maritime frontiers against dangerous intruders - terrorists, drug smugglers and gun runners.

This post is the first in a series on Oceania's security challenges. Coming Anarchy is hosting the series, and Phil at Pacific Empire is also contributing. Thanks to Coming Anarchy for suggesting this excellent initiative. If you are not already a reader of Coming Anarchy, I encourage you to check out this great site. (Photo: Wayne Levin/Getty images.)

Is Oceania Only Good For a Laugh?

As a citizen of the South Pacific, it really bugs me when foreign journalists file stories about the region that fall within the 'quaint and bizarre' category of reporting. This recent BBC article, about the people of a remote Vanuatu village who worship the Duke of Edinburgh as a god, is case in point. The article is light-hearted, mildly condescending, and somewhat ironic, given that the British deify people like David and Victoria Beckham.

It's good to have a laugh. The problem is that such 'infotainment' often substitutes for serious coverage of the challenges that South Pacific people grapple with. In the security realm these include conflict and political instability, particularly in Melanesia, heightened Chinese interest in the South Pacific and its resources, and the impact that overcrowding, infectious diseases, poor infrastructure, and sea level rise have on island communities.

Over the coming weeks I'll be exploring some of these challenges, as part of a series on Oceania hosted by Coming Anarchy. My pieces will be posted on Coming Anarchy and cross-posted here. Phil at Pacific Empire is also contributing to the series. The first post, on Monday, will look at conflict in Melanesia.

(Photo: BBC.)

'The lonely sea and the sky'

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship, and a star to steer her by...

So wrote the poet John Masefield in 'Sea Fever'. These words - 'the lonely sea and sky' - capture the enduring aspects of New Zealand's strategic situation. Our greatest defence is sheer distance from anywhere, the ocean vastness, the screen of tropical islands and the Australian continent, and turbulent maritime weather. These features provide great defence-in-depth, and generations of defence planners have relied on them to safeguard New Zealand.

To attack New Zealand, an enemy must travel over the ocean. To successfully invade, a large fleet with many troops is needed. An enemy must have a strong blue water navy, amphibious landing capacity, the ability to defend against hostile naval and air forces, and excellent meteorological information.

For the defenders, the ocean provides skilled mariners and airmen with a vast field of manoeuvre. The ocean and the tropical islands provide a screen from which surprise attacks could be launched against an invasion fleet, just as in 1917/18, T E Lawrence and Arab raiders used the desert to strike swiftly and suddenly against Ottoman troops.

Chinks in the armour

The ocean, the sky and the weather are also weaknesses. Enemy aircraft and vessels can emerge from the ocean without warning to attack coastal shipping and infrastructure. Satellites can look down on us. Surface ships can move under the cover of weather depressions, as Japanese carrier battle groups did in World War 2.

Our rugged coastline affords drug smugglers, gun runners and illegal refugees many safe routes onshore. Our seas are rich in resources, such as fish. As northern hemisphere food resources diminish, relatively well-managed fish stocks, such as New Zealand's, could fall prey to predatory poaching fleets, perhaps protected by blue water naval vessels or pirate ships.

As a trading nation we ship our exports to distant markets, and import vital supplies by sea, particularly oil. Future conflict in the Persian Gulf, the Bay of Bengal and the South China Sea could close sea lanes, shutting us off from our export markets and our oil supplies. As a country, how resilient would we be in the face of significant deprivation?

Achilles heel

The 'lonely sea and sky' is a psychological Achilles heel. Over the past 62 years we have enjoyed peace and prosperity. Direct attack has become inconceivable - cocooned by the ocean swells, we think that no-one could be bothered attacking us.

We forget our past - German raiders operated in our waters during World War 1; the Japanese advanced into the South Pacific in 1942. In September 1914 the threat of German warships delayed for over a month the embarkation of the New Zealand Expeditionary Force, until the Royal Navy could provide convoy escorts.

We also discount our future. In a warmer world of hungry hordes, advancing deserts, and acute shortages of arable land and clean water, our temperate islands may entice refugees fleeing drowned river deltas, and great powers on the prowl for resources.

Previous posts in the series: 'A Hedgehog Strategy Favours Small Countries', parts 1, 2 and 3.

A Hedgehog Strategy Favours Small Countries: Part 3

This is the third post in a continuing series on a strategy for New Zealand's future defence. In 'A Hedgehog Strategy Favours Small Countries' part 1, I suggested that the Iraq insurgency offers ideas for how a small country might effectively defend itself against a powerful enemy in an 'asymmetric' approach. In part 2 I set out a scenario which illustrated where my thinking is heading.

A strategic nation

Some time ago I was talking with several senior New Zealand intelligence officials. I suggested that we should take a strategic approach to intelligence analysis - looking at potential security threats 20, 50, 100 years out. They looked at me as if I was mad. Then one of them said politely, as if talking to a dimwitted child, "We don't look quite that far. Five years, ten at most".

Contemplating a nation's future is not easy. It requires deep, hard, and speculative thinking about uncertainties. There are no immediate pay-offs. Mistakes will be made, hunches will turn out to be wrong. But such thinking is essential. Otherwise we are blind in the face of future opportunities and threats at a time when, paraphrasing Theodore Roosevelt, the century "looms before us, big with the fate of many nations". Drawing a seafaring analogy, it is like sailing a ship into treacherous waters without charts, navigational equipment and depth finders.    

What I will do in subsequent posts (see link below) is set out key features of the strategic terrain that may have a significant impact on New Zealand's 'fate' in the 21st century. This discussion will set the scene for analysis about alternative approaches to defending our nation.

Just as consideration of a military operation must start with terrain, consideration of a defence strategy must start with geography. The next post - 'The lonely sea and the sky' - considers New Zealand's enduring strategic features: ocean and maritime climate.

He Fought for an Idea: the East Timor Nation

Jose Ramos-Horta is East Timor's new president. What are the prospects for stability under his rule?

I arrived in Dili by boat on 22 November 1992. It was 8am and the air was sultry. From the deck I saw a tree-lined promenade and rusting landing craft on the beach. Indonesian flags flew from the Governor's residence, armed soldiers stood on the wharf, and military helicopters buzzed overhead. 

In the streets, boys were selling newspapers. The headlines announced the capture of Xanana Gusmao, leader of the East Timorese Resistance to Indonesian rule. I wondered if there would be violence, but the situation remained eerily quiet during my stay.

The striking thing about East Timor then was not the heavy Indonesian military presence, but the relaxed attitude of troops and police. In Dili, soldiers roared about in jeeps. In the countryside, checkpoints were frequent but cursory. Near Baucau, we passed a poorly defended army base: thick scrub grew close to the perimeter and smothered the rusty barbed wire.

I'd read about East Timor's struggle for independence from Portugal, the Indonesian invasion which followed independence in 1975, and the prolonged and violent resistance to Jakarta's rule. In 1992 it seemed that the resistance had run its course. Gusmao was behind bars, the guerillas were a spent force, and Indonesian troops were numerous and well-armed. The East Timorese appeared cowered - polite but unwilling to talk to the few foreigners that ventured there.

In these circumstances, it would have been understandable if Jose Ramos-Horta had decided that independence was a lost cause. In exile since 1975, Ramos-Horta had become East Timor's international voice. He cut a lonely figure in the international corridors of power - most western governments backed Indonesia. Highly educated and urbane, Ramos-Horta could have settled down to a comfortable emigre lifestyle. It says a great deal about his character that, even at this dark time, he and others kept fighting for self-determination, an ambition that ultimately came to fruition.

Since independence, East Timor has been troubled by sporadic civil unrest. Some commentators consider that East Timor is becoming a 'failed state', part of the Pacific 'arc of instability' - a curve of trouble-spots that includes Papua New Guinea and Solomon Islands.

East Timor certainly has its problems. It would be surprising if it did not. The country was long accustomed to the rule of the gun and despotic authority imposed from distant capitals. A stable government will take time to bed down. Periodic unrest must be expected.

But there are good reasons to be optimistic about East Timor's prospects under Ramos-Horta:

• Ramos-Horta is an able and experienced leader. He commands significant support within East Timor, and the assistance of Australia, New Zealand, and Portugal.

• Most Timorese live on or close to the land, have strong family and kin ties, and are resilient and self-sufficient.

• The country is small and relatively easy to get around. The people share a Christian heritage, a common language (Tetum), and a strong sense of East Timorese identity.

Crucially, the East Timorese, and their leaders, in particular Ramos-Horta, fought long and hard for an idea: to win freedom and nationhood. My bet is that they won't let this slip through their fingers.