Australians, like their counterparts across the Western world, are seemingly constantly under assault as adversaries – both state-based and non-state actors – are seeking to ramp up their efforts to tear at national security, resilience and social cohesion. So how do we fight back?
For much of its modern history, Australia has cultivated a carefully reinforced image of itself: pragmatic, resilient, sceptical of extremism and instinctively united in moments of crisis.
It is a national mythology built on Gallipoli, Kokoda, the Anzac tradition, successive natural disaster recovery efforts and the idea that Australians ultimately “pull together” when it matters most. Geography strengthened that self-image.
Our isolation, both physically and psychologically, specifically our distance from Europe, North America and Asia’s major continental conflicts, helped create the belief that Australia existed slightly outside the turbulence of history, protected by oceans, alliances, a cohesive society and a stable democratic culture.
That mythology has long served a useful purpose. It fostered cohesion, optimism and confidence in national institutions, often underpinned by shared cultural norms and binding national projects like the Snowy Hydro, all serving to create a pseudo-Australian version of America’s Manifest Destiny.
But it has also encouraged a dangerous assumption: that Australia is somehow naturally insulated from the fractures, manipulations and internal instability that affect other nations, increasingly, that assumption looks outdated.
Today, however, the modern strategic environment is not simply contesting territory, military strength or economic influence. It is contesting perception, what populations believe, what they fear, who they trust and how quickly confusion can overwhelm clarity.
In this emerging battlespace, Australia’s greatest vulnerability may not be a lack of missiles, ships or submarines, it may be the persistence of a national self-image that underestimates how exposed modern democratic societies have become to information warfare.
Highlighting this is Daniel Baldino’s recent article for The Strategist, titled Australia is not prepared for the war over perception, in which he argued that Australia doesn’t necessarily lack military capability or strategic awareness altogether
Rather, Baldino argued that it is the pervasive nature of the “Lucky Country” myth which leaves the nation and its people in a state of arrested development and, concerningly, preparing for conflict through an increasingly outdated framework, one focused overwhelmingly on physical capability while underestimating the growing importance of cognition, narrative and information dominance.
Australia’s myth of invincibility
Australia’s strategic culture has long been shaped by the belief that the nation is comparatively resistant to the kinds of polarisation and social fragmentation seen elsewhere. Even during periods of political tension at home and abroad, Australians often describe their society as fundamentally moderate and grounded, yet the digital era has steadily eroded many of the assumptions underpinning that confidence.
The same social media ecosystems that have destabilised public discourse in the United States and Europe are deeply embedded in Australian life.
Online outrage cycles, algorithmically amplified misinformation and emotionally manipulative content now shape political and social debate at enormous speed. Public trust in institutions remains comparatively high by international standards, but it is no longer immune to erosion.
Baldino cut directly into this issue by arguing that Australia still treats the information environment as secondary to “real” national security concerns, saying, “Importantly, the government should treat the information environment as core infrastructure. Just as it considers energy and communications systems to be critical, it should extend similar strategic attention to the digital ecosystems that shape public perception and public understanding during crises.
“This responsibility cannot sit with Defence alone. It requires coordination across government, including education, communications and cyber security agencies, alongside cooperation with technology companies and media organisations responsible for information integrity and public communication.”
Failing to do so leaves Australia with a glaring strategic blind spot. While Canberra invests heavily in conventional military capabilities, adversaries are increasingly targeting societies themselves, not simply their armed forces.
Baldino stressed this, saying, “Adversaries are increasingly using digital information environments to shape how crises are interpreted and responded to ... Russia-linked influence networks, Chinese state information campaigns and extremist online ecosystems associated with conspiracy movements increasingly use viral imagery, emotionally charged content and coordinated amplification to shape public interpretation of events.
“The objective is often not simply persuasion but the erosion of trust and the generation of confusion and uncertainty around major events. Advances in artificial intelligence are accelerating this trend by enabling the rapid generation and amplification of content at unprecedented scale and speed.”
This reflects a broader evolution in how states and non-state actors pursue influence and coercion. Modern information operations are not merely about convincing populations to adopt a particular viewpoint.
Rather, the objective is confusion and subversion itself.
If trust collapses, if governments appear, or worse, become indecisive, or if citizens become uncertain about what is true, then an adversary can achieve significant strategic effects without firing a shot.
Baldino highlighted this, saying, “Modern conflict increasingly blurs the boundary between external and internal security. During a regional conflict, foreign information operations could exploit social divisions, intensify public confusion or panic and undermine confidence in institutions and official communication.
“This could complicate crisis decision making and weaken public confidence in Australia’s response even before any direct military confrontation occurs. In a crisis, delayed or confused public responses can themselves become a strategic vulnerability."
That challenge strikes directly at Australia’s longstanding assumptions about itself. National cohesion is no longer guaranteed simply because Australians believe themselves to be cohesive. Resilience is no longer automatic simply because resilience forms part of the national story.
The battle for the mind
As previously identified, Baldino argued that modern conflict increasingly unfolds within the cognitive domain, the realm of attention, interpretation and belief.
In practice, this means strategic competition is now heavily shaped by online ecosystems capable of spreading manipulated narratives at extraordinary speed. Artificial intelligence is only serving to accelerate that transformation by lowering the cost and increasing the sophistication of synthetic content, including deepfakes, fabricated audio and automated influence campaigns.
This is not theoretical. Around the world, states are already experimenting with coordinated disinformation campaigns designed to shape political narratives, undermine trust and inflame social tensions.
Russia’s information operations during the war in Ukraine, China’s increasingly sophisticated online influence campaigns and the broader weaponisation of social media demonstrate how rapidly the strategic environment has evolved.
Baldino detailed these practical examples, saying, “Russian information operations surrounding the war in Ukraine and Chinese efforts to shape narratives around Taiwan and COVID-19 demonstrate how states increasingly seek to influence how crises are understood and responded to in real time.”
Australia has not been exempt from these pressures. During the COVID-19 pandemic, misinformation – although now, with the benefit of hindsight, it could be argued it would have been more effectively described by authorities as malinformation – spread rapidly across Australian online communities, often overwhelming official messaging.
Conspiracy ecosystems flourished, trust in expertise became politicised in ways that would once have seemed improbable in Australia’s relatively consensus-driven political culture.
What Baldino recognised correctly is that these dynamics become even more dangerous during periods of geopolitical crisis. A regional conflict involving Australia or its allies would not occur solely in the physical domain. It would unfold simultaneously across social media feeds, online commentary, viral video clips and digitally amplified rumours.
Public confidence, political unity and institutional credibility would all become targets. In that sense, the “war over perception” is not a metaphorical extension of conflict, it is increasingly part of conflict itself.
Defence is modernising too slowly
One of the most compelling aspects of Baldino’s analysis is his focus on tempo. Australia’s defence establishment is structured around long acquisition cycles, deliberate planning processes and hierarchical decision making. That model works reasonably well for procuring submarines, ships or combat aircraft. It is far less effective in an information environment that moves at digital speed.
A manipulated video can reach millions of people in hours. False narratives can trend globally before governments even formulate a response. Deepfake technology continues to improve faster than most public institutions can adapt.
Baldino argued that Australia’s defence and national security structures remain insufficiently configured for this reality. Information resilience, strategic communication and influence awareness are still too often treated as supporting functions rather than central components of national defence planning.
Baldino said: “Current Australian policy has begun to recognise elements of this shift. The 2026 National Defence Strategy and related planning documents reference the information domain, influence operations and broader questions of national resilience and preparedness against emerging forms of disruption. The Australian Defence Force already operates across cyber, information and strategic communication domains, and these capabilities will remain essential.”
That criticism is difficult to dismiss. Canberra has become increasingly fluent in the language of “grey-zone competition”, “hybrid warfare” and “whole-of-nation resilience”, yet much of the institutional machinery underpinning national security still reflects an earlier era.
Traditional military capability remains essential, but the strategic environment is no longer defined solely by industrial capacity and kinetic force.
Baldino went further, adding: “Australia risks moving too slowly. Cognitive operations unfold in real time, exploiting speed, ambiguity and rapid adaptation, whereas Australian policy remains heavily focused on conventional capability decisions planned decades ahead. This approach is ill-suited to rapidly shifting informational and perceptual dynamics.”
Australia’s challenge is not simply technological. It is conceptual. The country is still adapting to the idea that the integrity of public perception can itself become a strategic target.
A democracy under pressure
Baldino’s thesis is particularly effective because it avoids reducing the issue to simplistic “fake news” debates. The problem is much broader than isolated false claims. Modern information warfare works by saturating the public sphere with uncertainty, outrage and emotional overload.
In practice, this can mean flooding online platforms with contradictory narratives during a crisis, amplifying social divisions or undermining confidence in official information. The objective is not necessarily to persuade everyone of a single lie. Often, it is to make consensus impossible.
That dynamic poses unique challenges for democratic societies. Democracies rely heavily on trust: trust in institutions, trust in electoral systems, trust in media and trust in the legitimacy of public authority. Once that trust begins to fragment, crisis response becomes significantly harder.
Australia’s political culture has historically benefited from comparatively high institutional trust and relatively strong civic cohesion. But those foundations are not indestructible. The rise of increasingly fragmented media ecosystems, declining confidence in traditional institutions and the emotional incentives built into digital platforms are all placing pressure on the social fabric.
Baldino’s argument is ultimately a warning that Australia cannot assume it will remain exempt from the destabilising pressures already affecting other democracies.
One of the article’s strongest propositions is that the information environment should be treated as a form of national infrastructure. That represents an important shift in thinking.
Australia already recognises the strategic importance of energy systems, telecommunications networks, ports and supply chains. Baldino is effectively arguing that public information integrity deserves similar status because it shapes national resilience during crises.
This does not mean censorship or heavy-handed state control over public debate. Rather, it means recognising that societal resilience depends partly on the ability to maintain credible communication, public trust and institutional legitimacy under pressure.
Baldino points to countries such as Finland as examples of how civic resilience can be strengthened through education, media literacy and coordinated national preparedness. Importantly, these models do not rely solely on intelligence agencies or military structures. They involve schools, universities, journalists, civil society and technology platforms.
That broader societal approach is essential because information warfare targets society itself. The solution cannot rest exclusively within Defence.
Final thoughts
The significance of Baldino’s argument extends beyond information policy. It forces Australia to confront a deeper strategic question about national preparedness in the 21st century.
For decades, Australian defence debates have centred primarily on geography and military capability: how to defend the continent, protect sea lanes and contribute to alliance structures. Those issues remain vital. But the emerging strategic environment increasingly tests social cohesion, institutional trust and cognitive resilience as well.
Australia’s longstanding national mythology – resilient, pragmatic, unified and insulated – may itself become a vulnerability if it encourages complacency. The country cannot assume that democratic stability and social cohesion are permanent features of the national landscape.
The uncomfortable reality is that modern conflict increasingly targets societies before armies. It attacks trust before infrastructure. It seeks paralysis before destruction.
That is why Baldino’s analysis matters. His warning is not alarmist. It is timely. Australia is investing heavily in military modernisation, but strategic preparedness now requires more than advanced platforms and long-range strike systems. It requires the ability to maintain clarity, cohesion and public confidence in an environment designed to fracture all three.
The “war over perception” is no longer a future possibility waiting on the horizon. It is already shaping the strategic environment around Australia. The real question is whether the country can move beyond its comforting myths quickly enough to recognise it.
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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