Depending on who you ask, the 2026 National Defence Strategy (NDS) and 2026 Integrated Investment Program (IIP) are either examples of “more of the same” or a “radical reset”, so which is it?
Since coming to office in mid-2022, the Albanese government has sought to frame itself as simultaneously a government of stability and the status quo, and one of disruption and a new way of doing things.
With this in mind, it is clear to see this narrative develop throughout the 2023 Defence Strategic Review, 2024 National Defence Strategy and its accompanying 2024 Integrated Investment Program, followed by the 2026 National Defence Strategy and 2026 Integrated Investment Program, which has been framed by government as a profound departure from Australia’s historic approach to defence policy, capability development and acquisition.
Collectively, these documents seek to overturn decades of strategic assumptions rooted in warning time, expeditionary contributions to coalition operations, and a relatively benign regional environment. Instead, they articulate a shift towards “National Defence”, a whole-of-government and whole-of-nation construct designed to mobilise all elements of national power in response to an increasingly contested Indo-Pacific.
The Albanese government’s approach to Australia’s defence and national security ecosystem and the policies, doctrine and force structure are no different, with it seeking to walk an increasingly precarious tightrope of trying to reform the defence organisation and its way of doing business while balancing domestic and global expectations, fiscal concerns and established norms.
At the core of this transformation is the adoption of a “strategy of denial”, which replaces earlier notions of forward defence or deterrence by punishment, with a focus on preventing adversaries from projecting power against Australia’s approaches.
This is paired with the ambition to build an “integrated, focused force”, underpinned by accelerated capability acquisition, sovereign industrial capacity, and tighter alignment between strategy and investment planning through the Integrated Investment Program.
The 2026 iteration reinforces and extends this trajectory, emphasising self-reliance, national resilience and a substantially expanded long-term investment pipeline, to the tune of $425 billion dollars over the next decade to deliver maritime, land, air, cyber and space capabilities aligned to denial-based deterrence.
This narrative of transformation is further reinforced by the strategic context in which these documents are situated. Australian policymakers now consistently describe the contemporary environment as the most challenging since the Second World War, characterised by intensifying great-power competition, reduced warning times and the erosion of longstanding assumptions about regional stability and US primacy.
In this framing, the reforms are not merely incremental adjustments but a necessary “revolution” in how Australia conceives of and prepares for conflict.
However, whether this represents a genuine break with the past remains open to question. Critics argue that despite new terminology and concepts, there is substantial continuity in strategic settings, alliance dependence and the pace of capability delivery.
Concerns persist that investment remains skewed towards long-term, capital-intensive platforms, while more immediate and scalable capabilities, such as autonomous systems, receive comparatively modest prioritisation.
However, other policymakers, strategic policy experts and analysts question whether the implementation machinery can overcome entrenched bureaucratic inertia, noting a persistent gap between strategic ambition and deliverable capability.
For Australia, this tension has profound implications. If the current reforms are indeed revolutionary, they signal a decisive shift towards strategic autonomy and a more assertive regional posture in an era of multipolar competition.
If not, they risk reinforcing a pattern of declaratory change without corresponding structural transformation, leaving Australia exposed in a security environment defined by accelerating risk, reduced warning time, and increasingly capable adversaries.
So how do both sides of the debate shape up?
Radical reset
Leading the charge for the revolutionary side of the debate is Professor Peter Dean, professor of strategic studies at the Australian National University and senior adviser to the independent leads for the 2023 Defence Strategic Review, writing in The Australian in a piece titled ’Inside the radical reset of Australia’s military for a new era of global chaos, who argued that the nation’s pivot is largely in response to a world in “polycrisis”, defined as “numerous interlinked economic, geopolitical, social and technological crises”.
In this framing, the 2023 Defence Strategic Review (DSR) and subsequent national defence strategies are not incremental updates but an attempt to recalibrate Australia’s strategic foundations amid shifting global power dynamics, particularly the rise of China and uncertainty surrounding the United States.
Dean noted that “the future regional and global role of the US … and its reliability as an ally are all uncertain”, reinforcing the need for a more self-reliant and regionally focused Australian posture.
A central pillar of Dean’s analysis is the elevation of “national defence” as the organising concept of policy. He described this as “a whole-of-government and whole-of-nation enterprise”, arguing that economic strength, social cohesion and international partnerships are “just as important as defence capability”.
This approach, he contended, has not been pursued “since World War II”, underscoring the claim that current reforms represent a significant historical departure. At its core, however, Dean reminded us that “strategy is the art of prioritising and making decisions”, highlighting the inherent tension between ambition and finite resources.
Dean credited the Albanese government with pursuing a “measured, steady approach”, arguing it has “met chaos with calm, coherent policy, starting with strategy”. The DSR is described as having “reset Australia’s approach” by centring deterrence and identifying China as the primary strategic challenge.
Importantly, Dean highlighted political continuity as a key enabler, noting that sustained ministerial leadership has allowed for reforms across funding, force structure, defence industry and international engagement, particularly within the Indo-Pacific.
On military strategy, Dean emphasised a shift towards denial-based deterrence. Australia’s objective is to “hold at risk any adversary in Australia’s northern approaches” through “asymmetric cost imposition”, defined as the ability to inflict “disproportionate costs in time, space or material on an adversary”.
This concept of “punitive resistance” is intended to ensure that any potential aggressor’s gains are outweighed by the costs, thereby strengthening deterrence credibility. He linked this directly to capability investment priorities, including major funding increases for missile defence, drones and guided weapons production.
However, Dean tempered this strategic clarity with realism about implementation. He stressed that “there is no Bunnings of defence capabilities”, highlighting the complexity of acquiring and delivering advanced military systems in a contested global supply environment.
Ultimately, he concluded that “delivering defence capability is one of the most complex tasks of government” and that “this strategy will live or die” on execution. The underlying message is clear: while the policy direction may be coherent and even transformative, its success depends on whether Australia can translate intent into timely, credible capability in an increasingly volatile and uncertain strategic environment.
Time for an ’after America’ strategy?
Bringing me to the first of the experts who stand opposed to the narrative put forward by the Albanese government and thinkers like Dean – historian Alex McDermott of the Robert Menzies Institute. In a piece for The Australian Financial Review, titled Never was, never will be, an ‘After America’ strategy for Australia, McDermott articulated that while an “unalloyed good”, the capability and independence of the Australian Defence Force is secondary to our responsibilities across the globe and broader region.
At the core of McDermott’s thesis is the sharply contrasting interpretation of Australia’s contemporary defence debate, rejecting the premise that Canberra can or should develop an “After America” strategy.
His central argument is that while “a capable, independent Australian Defence Force is an unalloyed good”, it cannot substitute for the broader strategic reality that Australia’s security and prosperity are inseparable from the maintenance of open global sea lanes, something historically underwritten by great naval powers, most recently the United States.
McDermott challenged the widespread narrative of American decline with a deliberately provocative metaphor, describing US power as “the Dracula of the global commentariat: repeatedly declared dead … yet stubbornly returning to life”.
He argued that contemporary conflicts demonstrate not decline, but enduring asymmetry in US military capability, highlighting “sustained, extraordinarily accurate, long-range strikes” and the ability to “impose costs at distances that Iran, or any peer competitor, is incapable of replicating”.
Even where weaknesses exist, such as in drone warfare or political resolve, he contended that claims of American “humiliation” rely on “a frankly bizarre definition of defeat”.
This critique extended to the conceptual foundations of an “After America” strategy, which McDermott sees as based on a false binary: that if the US is not an unchallenged hegemon, it must be in terminal decline. Instead, he argued that American power is cyclical and adaptive, marked by “abrupt, almost arrhythmic surges and recoveries that redefine the technological and strategic landscape”.
As such, any Australian strategy premised on US withdrawal is strategically unsound.
For Australia, the argument becomes more structural and historically grounded. McDermott emphasised that “Australia depends on the maritime connections of a free sea-lane world for its national existence”, framing this as an enduring geostrategic constant rather than a contemporary policy choice.
Drawing on figures such as Alfred Deakin and Joseph Lyons, he reinforced that “shut off access by sea … and the whole nation stops” and that without protected trade routes “our whole national life will be brought to a standstill”. This historical continuity underpins his scepticism towards current policy, which he criticised for “having a bob each way” – simultaneously emphasising self-reliance while maintaining reliance on the US alliance.
McDermott is particularly dismissive of proposals for alternative security arrangements, questioning whether partners such as India or Singapore could realistically “do the heavy lifting of global maritime security”.
He argued that such thinking ignores both history and capability realities. Invoking Robert Menzies, he highlighted a model of pragmatic statecraft that combined strengthening national capability with deepening alliance ties, rather than seeking to replace them. Menzies’ approach modernising the ADF while anchoring US regional engagement illustrated, in McDermott’s view, how to manage “the ambiguities of geostrategic reality”.
Ultimately, McDermott’s conclusion is unequivocal. While Australia must strengthen its own defence capacity, “self-defence alone … is no answer”. A strategy that marginalises the United States risks strategic incoherence and, in his words: “If that strategy doesn’t significantly feature an American relationship, it is Australia that will be lost.”
More of the same
Finally, this brings me to analysis from Strategic Analysis Australia’s Michael Shoebridge and Marcus Hellyer, both of whom offer a pointed critique of the 2026 National Defence Strategy and Integrated Investment Program, directly challenging the prevailing narrative of transformational change.
Instead, both pieces argued that Australia’s defence policy remains characterised by continuity, conceptual ambiguity and a failure to adapt meaningfully to a deteriorating strategic environment.
Shoebridge’s central contention is encapsulated in the claim that “the world has changed – but Australia’s defence plans haven’t”. He argued that the 2026 NDS is “hard to distinguish from its 2024 predecessor”, despite significant geopolitical shifts, particularly in the behaviour of the United States.
Notably, he highlighted “the almost complete absence of engagement with the changed America”, criticising the strategy for ignoring a more unilateral and less reliable US. The document’s assertion that Australia and the US “share strategic interests” is described as detached from reality, given Washington’s increasingly transactional approach to alliances.
This critique extends to force structure and capability development. Shoebridge argued that despite claims of an additional $53 billion in funding, “the basic force structure remains as it was in 2024”, raising fundamental questions about what additional military capability is actually being delivered.
He is particularly critical of continued dependence on US supply chains, noting that Australia remains reliant on American “missiles and interceptors” at a time when US production is already strained by ongoing conflicts.
A major theme in the analysis is scepticism towards the credibility of defence funding claims. Shoebridge characterised elements of the investment plan as “funny money”, pointing to “$20 billion in ‘alternative financing’” and accounting practices that inflate headline figures without delivering immediate capability.
He argued that the apparent increase in spending is partly an artefact of extending the forward estimates and incorporating broader cost categories, suggesting that, in real terms, defence spending remains “bumping along at 2.1 per cent” of gross domestic product in the near term.
On capability priorities, the critique is equally sharp. While the government emphasised emerging technologies, Shoebridge contended that investment in drones and counter-drone systems remains limited, describing it as “very thin gruel”.
Instead, the ADF is seen to be “continuing to pursue … small numbers of very expensive” systems rather than embracing mass, attritable capabilities seen in contemporary conflicts. This reflects a broader argument that “no shift in thinking or planning has occurred” within Defence, despite the changing character of warfare.
Complementing this, Hellyer’s “Carney moment” critique argued that Australia has yet to undertake the kind of fundamental economic and industrial mobilisation seen in countries like Canada. The implication is that while the rhetoric of “national defence” suggests whole-of-nation transformation, the reality falls short of such ambition.
The strategy is portrayed as familiar and incremental, continuing trajectories “set out in the previous” frameworks rather than representing a decisive break.
Taken together, these analyses fundamentally challenge the notion that Australia is undergoing a revolutionary shift in defence policy. Instead, they suggest a pattern of declaratory change masking structural continuity: limited adaptation to a transformed strategic environment, insufficient acknowledgement of alliance uncertainty, and a persistent gap between funding claims and tangible capability outcomes.
In this reading, the critical issue is not the absence of strategy, but the absence of meaningful departure from legacy assumptions, raising doubts about whether Australia’s current approach is adequate for an increasingly volatile and multipolar world.
Final thoughts
Taken together, these competing perspectives point to a more complex and unsettled reality than the prevailing narrative of “strategic revolution” suggests. On one hand, the shift towards “national defence”, denial-based deterrence and a more self-reliant posture reflects a genuine attempt to grapple with a harsher, more contested Indo-Pacific.
On the other, questions persist as to whether Australia’s policy settings, capability choices and political appetite for reform are keeping pace with the scale and speed of change.
What is clear is that the strategic environment is no longer forgiving. As Professor Peter Dean observed, Australia is operating in a period of “polycrisis”, where risk is compounding across economic, geopolitical and technological domains.
Yet, as Alex McDermott argued, enduring structural realities, particularly Australia’s dependence on secure maritime trade and the stabilising role of American power, continue to shape the bounds of what is strategically feasible.
Meanwhile, critiques from Strategic Analysis Australia suggest that, despite the rhetoric, there remains “no shift in thinking or planning” commensurate with this environment.
This tension goes to the heart of Australia’s strategic problem. The issue is not simply whether the country needs to “wake up”, but whether it is prepared to make the difficult, often uncomfortable choices that strategy demands – prioritisation, trade-offs and sustained commitment over decades – not electoral cycles.
The Indo-Pacific is no longer a peripheral theatre – it is the centre of gravity of global economic and military power, where great-power competition and multipolarity are already shaping outcomes.
Against this backdrop, incrementalism carries increasing risk. A strategy that seeks to balance ambition with caution, self-reliance with alliance dependence, and regional focus with global interests may be politically palatable, but risks becoming internally contradictory if not matched by clear priorities and credible capability.
Equally, calls for complete strategic autonomy must contend with the practical limits identified by both history and geography.
Australia therefore faces a narrower set of choices than is often presented. It must decide not whether to act, but how decisively and coherently it is willing to align its strategy, resources and institutions with its stated objectives.
The coming decade will not simply test policy settings, it will test execution, resilience and national will. In a more volatile and competitive world, the consequences of getting that balance wrong are unlikely to be theoretical.
Get involved with the discussion and let us know your thoughts on Australia’s future role and position in the Indo-Pacific region and what you would like to see from Australia’s political leaders in terms of partisan and bipartisan agenda setting in the comments section below, or get in touch at
Stephen Kuper
Steve has an extensive career across government, defence industry and advocacy, having previously worked for cabinet ministers at both Federal and State levels.
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