Australia’s Defence Decline: Ethnic Unity in 1914 vs. a "Nation of Tribes" Today, By Tom North

In a sobering analysis, historian Geoffrey Blainey argues in The Australian that Australia is woefully unprepared for modern warfare, a stark contrast to its robust readiness at the outbreak of World War I in 1914. His critique, rooted in the nation's historical and current defence capabilities, underscores a troubling decline in military strength at a time when global tensions, particularly with China, are escalating. Blainey's earlier work, All for Australia (1984), frames this decline against a shift from the ethnic unity of 1914 to today's fragmented "nation of tribes." This essay contends that Australia's cohesive, predominantly Anglo-Celtic society in 1914 enabled a unified and effective defence posture, while the present multicultural landscape, marked by competing identities and divisive policies, undermines national security and hampers rapid, decisive action in the face of potential conflict.

In 1914, Australia, with a population of just under five million, was a nation forged in ethnic and cultural cohesion. Predominantly Anglo-Celtic, its people shared a strong loyalty to the British Empire, fostering a collective identity that propelled robust defence efforts. This unity was evident in the nation's military preparedness. Compulsory military training for boys and young men ensured that a significant portion of the male population was ready for combat, with over 416,000 volunteers enlisting during the war—a remarkable feat for a small population. Political consensus across major parties prioritised defence, reflected in the substantial investment in HMAS Australia, a dreadnought battleship that was the most powerful warship in the southern hemisphere. Built in Scotland and arriving in Sydney Harbour in 1913, this ship symbolised Australia's ambition and capability, outstripping the naval investments of powers like France and Russia relative to population.

Industrial capacity further bolstered readiness. The steelworks at Lithgow and a nearby small-arms factory produced rifles, pistols, bayonets, and ammunition, employing thousands by World War II. This self-sufficiency in arms manufacturing was a hallmark of a nation prepared for conflict. The ethnic homogeneity of 1914 minimised internal divisions, enabling rapid mobilisation and a shared commitment to defending the nation. Patriotism was not just rhetoric; it was a unifying force that drove Australia to capture German assets in Rabaul in 1914, showcasing its strategic reach.

Fast forward to 2025, and Australia, with a population exceeding 27 million, is a shadow of its former defensive self. Blainey highlights a litany of failures: a volunteer-based military struggling to recruit, negligible military training among the population, and a lack of industrial capacity to supply a modern war machine. The lease of Darwin's port to a Chinese company for 99 years, a decision made by the Northern Territory government in 2015 for financial gain, epitomises strategic shortsightedness. This critical northern harbour, vital for Australian and potentially American forces, is now compromised, a move Blainey notes would be unthinkable for China to allow on its own coast. The Albanese government's reluctance to cancel this lease, as advised by the Defence Department, reflects a fear of confronting Beijing, prioritising diplomatic appeasement over national security.

Blainey's reference to No Higher Priority, a report by strategic experts Peter Jennings, Michael Shoebridge, and Marcus Hellyer, underscores the gravity of the situation. It warns that Australia faces its most challenging security environment since World War II, with China as the primary threat. Yet, the government's response is inadequate, marked by bureaucratic bloat—doubling the number of generals in 20 years while neglecting frontline needs—and insufficient fuel reserves, with remote air bases like Learmonth holding only 10 days' worth of aviation fuel for combat missions. The failure to invest in modern weapons like drones, which have proven decisive in conflicts like Ukraine, further highlights a nation unprepared for contemporary warfare.

Blainey's critique gains potency when viewed through the lens of his "nation of tribes" concept. In 1914, Australia's ethnic unity fostered a singular national purpose, enabling swift and cohesive action. Today's multicultural society, while celebrated for its diversity, has fractured this unity, creating competing identities that dilute collective resolve. Over 50% of Australians are now either born overseas or have a foreign-born parent, a demographic shift that, Blainey argues, complicates consensus on defence priorities. The Albanese government's push for the Voice referendum in 2023 exemplifies this fragmentation. By proposing special political powers for Indigenous Australians, it prioritised a minority's interests over national cohesion, potentially paralysing decision-making in a crisis. Blainey warns that such policies could invite foreign interference, as some Indigenous leaders' claims of governmental illegitimacy signal weakness to adversaries like China.

This tribalism extends beyond Indigenous issues. Multicultural policies have fostered communities with varying degrees of attachment to Australia's national interests, some more aligned with their countries of origin than with Canberra's defence needs. Unlike 1914, when a shared Anglo-Celtic identity rallied the nation, today's diverse populace lacks the same instinctive unity, making it harder to galvanise public support for defence spending or military mobilisation. The Albanese government's focus on social equity and identity politics, such as the Uluru Statement, has deepened divisions, with Blainey noting that the Prime Minister's claim of uniting the nation was undermined by the referendum's divisive outcome.

The government's defence lapses are compounded by its inability to navigate the complexities of a tribalised nation. The AUKUS agreement, signed in 2021, promises nuclear-powered submarines, but these are years away, and immediate needs—specialist ships, aircraft, and drones—are being pruned. Blainey criticises Albanese's reluctance to allocate sufficient defence funding, especially as China's provocations, like sending warships into Australian waters in 2025, grow bolder. The reliance on U.S. support is misguided, as Blainey argues that America may not always be able to assist promptly, leaving Australia vulnerable.

The "Canberra bubble" of bureaucrats and overpaid generals thrives while practical measures, like building fuel reserves or fostering regional alliances with India and Indonesia, are neglected. Blainey's call for 16,000 U.S. marines in Darwin is a nod to strengthening ties, but the Chinese presence in the port undermines this potential. The government's failure to address these issues reflects a broader inability to unify a fragmented society around a common defence goal, a stark contrast to the decisive leadership of 1914.

Australia's defence readiness in 1914 was a product of its ethnic unity, industrial strength, and political will, enabling it to punch above its weight on the global stage. Today, as a "nation of tribes," it struggles to muster the same resolve. Multiculturalism has fostered divisions that hinder rapid, unified action in the face of threats like China's rising aggression. The Albanese government's missteps, from the Darwin lease to the Voice referendum, have exacerbated this fragmentation, prioritising identity politics over national security. To restore its defensive posture, Australia must reclaim the cohesive spirit of 1914, streamline its bureaucracy, and invest urgently in modern capabilities. As Blainey warns, the nation's survival depends on recognising that defence, not division, is the first duty of its leaders.