Contradictions in Australia's Pacific Islands discourse

ABSTRACT

The Australian government demonstrates strategic anxiety about the ‘crowded and complex’ geopolitics of the Pacific Islands region. This reflects its broader concerns about geostrategic competition in the ‘Indo-Pacific’, and its perception that Pacific states are ‘small’ and ‘weak’ and therefore vulnerable to influence from potentially hostile powers. Simultaneously, the government has vowed to ‘step-up’ its engagement with its ‘Pacific family’, emphasising that its relationships with Pacific states will be characterised by respect for, and listening to them, as equals. But while the government has articulated its intention to improve its relationships with Pacific states, puzzlingly, it adopts policies that undermine this goal. This article analyses how and why this occurs. It outlines what this analysis demonstrates about how leaders and officials perceive the Pacific, what assumptions and habits inform those beliefs, and as the ‘step-up’ moves from announcement to implementation, how they are translated into behaviour via government policy. It concludes by arguing that Australian leaders and officials should seek consistency in their discourse about, and policies toward, the Pacific, guided by the discourse of the ‘Blue Pacific’.

KEYWORDS:

• Australia
• Pacific Islands
• foreign policy
• security
• discourse analysis

Introduction

‘Why does Australia constantly shoot itself in the foot?’ is a question that scholars of Australia's policy towards the Pacific Islands—including myself—regularly ask ourselves. This article is my attempt to begin to answer this question. The Australian government has long identified that a secure Pacific Islands region sits only behind a secure Australia in the hierarchy of its strategic interests. Defence White Papers consistently recognise that Australia has two primary strategic interests in the Pacific: first, to ensure ‘security, stability and cohesion’ (DoD 2013, 25); and second, to ensure that ‘our neighbourhood does not become a source of threat to Australia’, primarily through preventing a hostile power establishing a strategic foothold (DoD 2013, 25, 2016). As other powers increase their presence in the Pacific, the government has begun to demonstrate strategic anxiety about the ‘crowded and complex’ geopolitics of the region (PIF 2018). This reflects its broader concerns about geostrategic competition in the ‘Indo-Pacific’, and its perception that Pacific state are ‘small’ and ‘weak’, and therefore vulnerable to influence from potentially hostile powers. Simultaneously, the government has vowed to ‘step-up’ its engagement with its ‘Pacific family’, emphasising that its relationships with Pacific states will be characterised by respect for, and listening to them, as equals.

But, although the Australian government has articulated its intention to strengthen its relationships with Pacific states in the pursuit of its strategic interests—and is actively working to do so—puzzlingly, leaders and officials continue exhibit beliefs and behaviour that undermine this goal. In this article I analyse how and why this occurs. To do this, I begin by outlining how I use discourse analysis techniques to examine the constitutive effects of discourse on the sometimes-contradictory beliefs about, and behaviour towards, the Pacific by the government, embodied by its leaders and officials. I then focus on the contradictions evident between, and within, two prominent contemporary Australian official discourses: the ‘Indo-Pacific’ and the ‘Pacific family’. I outline what this analysis demonstrates about how Australian leaders and officials perceive the Pacific, what assumptions and habits inform those beliefs, and as the ‘step-up’ moves from announcement to implementation, how they are translated into behaviour via government policy. I conclude by arguing that Australian leaders and officials should seek consistency in their discourse about, and policies toward, the Pacific, guided by the discourse of the ‘Blue Pacific’.

This article continues my contributions to existing academic analysis of Australia's Pacific policy. While such analysis would typically be characterised as a ‘debate’, that terminology does not capture the high (although not total) level of consensus amongst scholars about the tensions between the ‘Indo-Pacific’ and ‘Blue Pacific’ framings (there has been less discussion of the ‘Pacific family’). Tarcisius Kabutaulaka (2021), Wesley Morgan (2018, 2020), Sandra Tarte (2021), and Joanne Wallis and James Batley (2020) have all identified that the Australian government's preferred framing, the ‘Indo-Pacific’, with its implied focus on strategic competition, does not ‘map’ (Kabutaulaka 2021) well onto the Pacific's ‘Blue Pacific’ framing, which instead emphasises human and environmental security priorities. However, Batley (2021) has expressed scepticism regarding the consequences for ‘productive bilateral relationships in the region’. Morgan (2020) and Tarte (2021) have identified ways to ensure that these framings ‘don't talk past each other’ (Wallis 2019), by emphasising the potential of converging interests, particularly in the maritime domain. This article builds on this work by conducting the first systematic analysis of the contradictions in Australian official discourse and considering the implications for its regional policy.

Analytical framework

To explain the seeming contradictions between, and within, the Australian government's ‘Indo-Pacific’ and ‘Pacific family’ discourses, I use discourse analysis techniques to examine the constitutive effects of discourse on Australian leaders and officials’ beliefs and behaviour. Discourse analysis is interested in how knowledge is produced and reproduced through discourse, ‘the representational practices through which meanings are generated’ (Dunn and Neumann 2016, 2). Discourse is a site of politics because it structures knowledge; there are ‘manifest political consequences of adopting one mode of representation over another’ (Campbell 1992, 7–8). Indeed, situations are often consciously framed; ‘some aspects of a perceived reality’ are selected to ‘make them more salient … in such a way as to promote a particular problem definition, causal interpretation, moral evaluation, and/or treatment recommendation for the item described’ (Entman 1993, 52). Analogies are a common framing device (Khong 1992). Over time, particular representations become ‘institutionalised and “normalized”’, which has practical consequences, making certain courses of action possible, while others appear impossible (Dunn and Neumann 2016). This is important when analysing the influence of discourse on Australian policy, because it highlights how, once particular meanings have become attached to concepts relating to the Pacific, leaders and officials come to perceive certain policy options as possible, while others are excluded.

I am also interested in what discourse analysis reveals about the appeal of the ‘logic’ of dominant discourses, which is that they are premised on learned assumptions or ‘habits’ (Hopf 2010). Habits have practical consequences because they motivate actions by ‘giving us ready-made responses to the world that we execute without thinking. They prevent other behaviour by short-circuiting any need to think about what we are doing’ (Hopf 2010, 541). Discourse analysis is therefore a valuable lens to highlight how perceptions can emerge, and habits persist, translating into contradictory—and potentially counterproductive—policy framings, decisions and outcomes.

I have analysed representations of the Pacific in contemporary Australian official discourse, that is, public statements and policies adopted by the government of the day, to identify how they have become meaningful and how they have influenced Australia leaders and officials’ beliefs about, and behaviour towards, the region. Given the subject matter, my documentary sources are official communications such as government documents, ministerial or leadership speeches and statements, media reports, policy reports and opinion/blog pieces. I include the latter three sources on the basis that they help to shape (or at least facilitate the reception and influence of) official discourses.

Stepping-up with Australia's ‘Pacific family’

At the 2017 Pacific Islands Forum (PIF) leaders’ meeting then Australian Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull (2017) made a ‘ … commitment to “step-up” Australia's engagement in the Pacific’. The 2017 Foreign Policy White Paper (DFAT 2017, 99) said that the step-up would include ‘promoting economic cooperation and greater integration within the Pacific and also with the Australian and New Zealand economies’, ‘tackling security challenges’, and ‘strengthening people-to-people links, skills and leadership’. But it was not until a speech at Lavarack Barracks in November 2018 that Prime Minister Scott Morrison (2018a) fleshed out a range of initiatives focused on: development (including infrastructure financing and enhanced labour mobility opportunities); security (including the creation of the Australia Pacific Security College and greater Australian Defence Force (ADF) presence in the region); and diplomatic and people-to-people links (including sports, education, media and church partnerships). Implementation of the step-up is overseen by a dedicated cross-agency Office of the Pacific (DFAT 2020a).

Importantly, in his Lavarak Barracks speech Morrison (2018a) began to describe Australia and Pacific states being ‘connected as members of a Pacific family’. He later used Pacific languages to describe ‘our Vuvale, our wantok, our Whanau’ (2019a, 2019b, 2019c). To reflect the rise of the family analogy as a framing device, leaders have shifted to referring to the Pacific as Australia's ‘home’ (Bishop 2018a; Morrison 2018a, 2019b; Payne 2019b), rather than its ‘neighbourhood’ (DoD 2013; Howard 2003).

Although the family analogy is not new, it has recently been used to frame Australia's policy with three apparent intentions. The first seems to be a desire to frame Australia's relations with Pacific states as being of equals; Morrison has claimed that the familial relationship is based on ‘respect, equality and openness’ (2018a; Fiji-Australia Vuvale Partnership 2019). Reflecting this, there is a rhetorical emphasis on Australia listening to Pacific priorities; ‘ … we have listened and are working closely with our Pacific partners’ (Hawke 2019b, 2019c; Morrison, Payne, and Reynolds 2018). Head of the Office of the Pacific, Ewen McDonald (2019), has emphasised that: ‘our Step-Up is taking place in consultation with our Pacific partners, in response to Pacific priorities’. In response to the 2020 COVID-19 pandemic, the government has emphasised that its assistance to the Pacific is ‘responsive to the evolving priorities of partner countries’ (DFAT 2020d, 14). Therefore, the Pacific family discourse could be interpreted as a welcome continuation of the change heralded by former Prime Minister Kevin Rudd’s (2008) ‘Port Moresby Declaration’. That saw a new emphasis on ‘partnership’ in the language of Australia's engagement, including the negotiation of bilateral Pacific Partnerships for Development (DFAT 2008). However, Pacific states could be forgiven for being sceptical about Australia's commitment to treating them as equal partners—they have heard this language before. For example, former Foreign Minister Gareth Evans (1988) articulated a policy of ‘constructive commitment’, whereby Australia would deal with Pacific states ‘on a basis of sovereign equality and mutual respect’. This approach soon lapsed and was followed by a period of interventionism in the region.

The second intention of the Pacific family discourse is an attempt to characterise Australia's step-up in moral terms, ‘because it's right’ (Hawke 2019c; Morrison 2018a). Australian politicians and officials have a history of framing Australia's engagement in terms of ‘a special responsibility’, rather than self-interest (Howard quoted in The Age 2004). Morrison has repeated this language (2018a; Hawke 2019b). What is new is the more explicitly affective dimension of the Pacific family discourse; Morrison (2018a) has spoken about ‘respect, love, commitment’ and then Minister for International Development and the Pacific Alex Hawke (2019b) about ‘the love of the Pacific’ in Australia. This appears intended to encourage Australians to feel an emotional affinity with the Pacific to help the government justify its increased activism (and spending); to encourage Pacific Islanders to identify Australia as their preferred partner; and by implication to exclude states that are not perceived to share the same apparently warm relationship.

Indeed, Australian leaders have used the Pacific family discourse to implicitly critique Chinese engagement. For example, Morrison (2019b) made a veiled reference to China when he said that: ‘When you see yourselves as family, a relationship moves beyond a shallow transactional lens’. Similarly, Hawke (2019a) has commented that Australia provides assistance to the region ‘willingly; we do it for our family; we do it for our neighbourhood; we do it because we actually care’. To further differentiate Australia from China, Morrison (2019b) has tried to underpin the Pacific family discourse as being based on ‘our geography and our history … [W]hen you share the beginnings of colonisation and these issues there is an understanding there is an appreciation … that many others will struggle to understand’. Yet this seems disingenuous; only indigenous Australians experienced European colonisation and the Australian government is yet to properly reconcile with them, and Australia was the colonial power in Papua New Guinea (PNG) and Nauru and has failed to fully account for, or reconcile, the wrongs committed during its administration.

Morrison has also explicitly foregrounded the importance of religion, reflecting that he is the most overtly religious Prime Minister in recent Australian history. Morrison frequently refers to the ‘connections that are being forged between us’, in, among other arenas, ‘our churches’ (2019b; Hawke 2019b). The Pacific family discourse reflects Morrison's religious beliefs and the time he has spent undertaking church visits in Fiji (O’Callaghan 2019). In December 2019 Morrison met 15 Pacific church leaders and welcomed more than 200 Australian Christians to Parliament for the launch of the ‘Friends of the Pacific’ parliamentary group and to discuss what it means to be part of the ‘Pacific family’ (Beach 2019). This emphasis on religious linkages has played out in practical policy terms with the creation of the Pacific Church Partnerships Program under the step-up (DFAT 2020b).

For these reasons, the Pacific family discourse has been described as ‘goddamn genius’ (Dobell 2019). However, even Australian officials have expressed caution. High Commissioner to Samoa Sara Moriarty reported that she asked her Samoan colleagues: ‘Are we overplaying this “family”’, given that, ‘in the Samoan context family is really important and everyone in the family as a place. It's a hierarchical structure?’ (speaking on AIW 2019). While her colleagues replied that ‘we do think of Australia as family’, particularly because of the large Samoan diaspora in Australia, Moriarty commented that ‘I think we still need to work out what our role is in the family’ (AIW 2019). This exchange highlighted the unclear nature of Australia's assumed role in the Pacific family: is it a ‘big brother’ (de Brum quoted in O’Malley 2014), ‘uncle’ (Moriarty speaking on AIW 2019), ‘cousin’ (Peters 2018) or ‘parent’? Each potential role portrays different power and gender perceptions and dynamics. This exchange also highlighted a resource the government has seldom drawn on in its diplomacy—the Pacific diaspora in Australia.

The emotional resonance of Morrison’s (2018a) initial Pacific family framing was somewhat undermined by the fact that it was made at a military barracks, and he spent considerable time describing an increased role for the ADF. In August 2020 Hawke reported that ‘in celebration of the 40th Anniversary of Vanuatu's independence’ Australia had docked HMAS Choules and Huon in Port Vila and staged flypasts by Royal Australian Airforce Super Hornets (Twitter, 7 August). While it is unclear how this display was perceived by ni-Vanuatu onlookers as contributing to celebrations of their independence, it constituted an unambiguous gesture of Australian military presence. The emphasis on defence and security in the step-up has been noted by Pacific leaders, particularly the joint Australia-PNG redevelopment of the Lombrum naval base on Manus Island. Vanuatu's then Foreign Minister Ralph Regenvanu stated that ‘we are not interested in militarisation’ (quoted in Pacific Beat 2018), a sentiment repeated by then Secretary General of the Pacific Islands Forum Dame Meg Taylor (2019d). Samoan Prime Minister Tuilaepa Sailele Malielegaoi (2018) similarly observed that: ‘As Pacific leaders we strongly believe in being … free from military competition’.

This third intention of the Pacific family discourse seems to be to minimise the impact of policy differences on Australia's relationships in the region. Morrison (2018a, 2019b) has emphasised that it is ‘not to say we will always agree. But that's not the true test of friendship or family. Tell me a family that always agrees’. As discussed below with respect to the example of climate change, this obscures the origins and importance of policy differences.

The ‘Indo-Pacific’

The concept of the Indo-Pacific was first explicitly articulated in the 2013 Defence White Paper to frame Australia's zone of strategic interest as ‘connecting the Indian and Pacific Oceans through Southeast Asia’ (DoD 2013, 7). Morrison (2019e, 2019c) frequently claims that Australia is ‘an Indo-Pacific nation’. No White Paper explicitly discusses the Pacific Islands in the context of the Indo-Pacific, despite the defined region including the Pacific Ocean. But when addressing Pacific audiences, Australian leaders have begun to say that the Pacific region is ‘a fundamental building block of our engagement with the Indo-Pacific’ (Hawke 2019a, 2019b; Morrison 2019c; Payne 2019a).

Reflecting that it has been used to frame the region of Australia's strategic interest, the Indo-Pacific discourse is often focused on an ‘era of great power competition’ (Hawke 2019a; Morrison 2019e, 2019c; Payne 2019a, 2018a; Reynolds 2019a). The 2017 Foreign Policy White Paper cautiously observed that: ‘China is challenging America's position’ and that ‘the stability of the Indo-Pacific region … cannot be assumed’ (DFAT 2017, 1). The 2020 Defence Strategic Update was less conservative, observing that: ‘major power competition has intensified and the project of high-intensity conflict in the Indo-Pacific, while still unlikely, is less remote than in the past’ (DoD 2020, 5).

Australian leaders have been reticent to express concern about geopolitical competition in the Pacific. Foreign Minister Marise Payne (2018b) has observed that: ‘We live with the reality of a more strategically crowded Southwest Pacific’, but stopped short of singling out China; instead saying that: ‘We recognise that many countries … are more active’. Hawke (2019c) has identified ‘increased competition for influence’. However, cooperation with the US in the Pacific is now more prominent in Australian official discourse, with the implication that this is intended to counter growing Chinese influence; it was a topic at the 2019 and 2020 AUSMINs (DFAT 2020c; Payne 2019c) and the 2019 US-Japan-Australia trilateral talks (Payne 2019d). The 2020 Defence Strategic Update stated that: ‘strategic competition, primarily between the United States and China … is playing out across the Indo-Pacific and increasingly in our immediate region’ (DoD 2020, 11). The Update was also more explicit about ‘China's active pursuit of greater influence in the Indo-Pacific’ and the ‘potential for actions, such as the establishment of military bases, which could undermine stability’ (DoD 2020, 11).

Australian official discourse has focused on the perceived need to help Pacific states resist external influence in the context of this competition, because Australian leaders have long demonstrated a habit of believing that Pacific states are small, weak and at risk of instability, making them vulnerable to influence. This reflects the continuing legacy of the early 1990s predictions of a ‘doomsday scenario’ for the Pacific unless Australian-prescribed neoliberal economic and structural reforms were implemented (Callick 1993). This was followed by early 2000s depictions of the Pacific as an ‘arc of instability’ (Dibb, Hale, and Prince 1999) made up of ‘our failing neighbour[s]’ (Wainwright 2003), vulnerable to ‘Africanisation’ (Reilly 2000), with the instability or ‘failure’ of Pacific states rendering them threats to Australia. As then Prime Minister John Howard (2003) warned, ‘We know that a failed state in our region, on our doorstep, will jeopardise our own security’. While these characterisations were critiqued (Chappell 2005; Fraenkel 2004; Teaiwa 2006), they influenced Australian official discourse (Ayson 2007). This had practical consequences, justifying an era of ‘new interventionism’, during which Australia intervened in Solomon Islands, PNG and Nauru, and embarked on increasingly coercive developmental policies elsewhere in the region, with the purported aim of institutionalising ‘good governance’ (Dinnen 2004).

The Australian government continues to exhibit the habit of perceiving the Pacific in terms of instability. The 2016 Defence White Paper identifies ‘state fragility’ as a risk, due to ‘slow economic growth, social and governance challenges, population growth and climate change’, ‘ethnic tensions, political instability … environmental degradation and natural disasters’ (DoD 2016, 48 and 55). It reiterates earlier concerns that instability ‘lead to increasing influence by actors from outside the region with interests inimical to ours’ (DoD 2016, 48).

With this in mind, the 2016 Defence White Paper argues that Australia should continue working with Pacific states ‘to limit the influence of any actor from outside the region with interests inimical to our own’ (DoD 2016, 74). This has been most evident in claims that China can use its lending to coerce Pacific states if they are unable to service their loans. This discourse reached fever-pitch in April 2018, when reports emerged claiming that China was in talks to build a military base in Vanuatu (Pacific Beat 2018). While both the Vanuatu and Chinese governments denied the reports, Turnbull said that: ‘We would view with great concern the establishment of any foreign military bases in those Pacific Island countries and neighbours of ours’ (quoted in Pacific Beat 2018). Then Foreign Minister Julie Bishop said that Australia wants to ‘ensure that they [Pacific Island states] retain their sovereignty, that they have sustainable economies and that they are not trapped into unsustainable debt outcomes’, which she identified as being threatened by Chinese lending (quoted in Wroe 2018).

Australian official discourse therefore repeatedly emphasises the importance of a Pacific that is ‘secure strategically, stable economically and sovereign politically’ (Bishop 2018b; Hawke 2019b, 2019c; McDonald 2019; Morrison 2018a, 2019c, 2019g; Payne 2018b, 2019b). The concept of sovereignty has become prominent; Morrison (2019e) has said that Australia is ‘championing the common interest of sovereignty and independence as the natural antidote to any possible threat of regional hegemony’. This exemplifies Australia's interest in preventing potentially hostile powers acquiring influence. But there is no evidence of critical reflection about how Australia itself may infringe the sovereignty of Pacific states or the historical and structural factors which have challenged it, such as the legacy of colonialism, interventionism and the impact of globalisation. This is despite the fact that Australian strategic policy towards the region has been ‘quite instrumental in its focus—the islands have been seen as objects that can be shaped and used in various ways to enhance Australia's strategic position’ (Sargeant 2020, 28). This reflects a longstanding habit of Australian leaders and officials of believing that the Pacific Islands are ‘our sphere of influence’ (Bishop quoted in Wroe 2018; Wallis 2017). The Boe Declaration on Regional Security adopted by PIF leaders in 2018, states that: members ‘respect and assert the sovereign right of every Member to conduct its national affairs free of external interference and coercion’. While Australia—a signatory to the Declaration—likely understood that this clause was directed at China, island member states may equally have had Australia in mind.

Australian official discourse also emphasises the perceived need to strengthen the rules-based order (RBO) in the Indo-Pacific (DoD 2013). The government's definition of the RBO includes the ‘United Nations, international laws and conventions and regional security architectures’ (DoD 2016, 45). The 2016 Defence White Paper argues that the RBO is important to Australia, which ‘does not have the capacity to unilaterally protect and further our global security interests’ (DoD 2016, 45). But it expressed mounting concern that the RBO is ‘under increasing pressure’ as ‘newly powerful countries want greater influence and to challenge some of the rules’ (DFAT 2017, 83; DoD 2016, 45). To that end, it committed Australia to work with the US and ‘like-minded partners to maintain the rules-based order’ (DoD 2016, 46). Since 2019 this concern has become more explicitly directed at China's perceived non-compliance with the ‘rules’. Then Defence Minister Linda Reynolds (2019c) observed that: ‘Australia is focused on ensuring that China's engagement—like any other country's—augments, not hinders, those [international] institutions’ ability to operate as fora for equitable decision-making with tangible, positive impacts’. Morrison (2019e) has begun to argue that ‘China has in many ways changed the world, so we would expect the terms of its engagement to change too’.

Unhelpful contradictions?

Contradictions are evident both between, and within, the Pacific family and Indo-Pacific discourses articulated by Australian leaders and officials. While the Pacific family discourse is apparently intended to frame Australia's relations with Pacific states as being of respectful and affectionate equals, the Indo-Pacific discourse relies on an Australian habit of perceiving Pacific states as small, weak and vulnerable to external influence in the context of mounting geostrategic competition. This contradiction generates frustration in the Pacific; Taylor (2018b) has lamented that the Pacific is primarily represented from ‘a perspective of vulnerability to China's influence and therefore as a part of the Indo-Pacific that needs to be “secured” by and for external partners’. Malielegaoi (2018) has identified a ‘patronising’ nuance in believing that Pacific nations did not know what they were doing’.

Therefore, the Indo-Pacific discourse risks undermining Australia's relationships with Pacific states. Indeed, Pacific leaders have expressed concerns about the ‘recasting of geostrategic competition and cooperation under the rubric of the “Indo-Pacific”’ (Taylor 2018b), describing it as a ‘form of strategic manipulation’ because ‘[t]he big powers are doggedly pursuing strategies to widen and extend their reach and inculcating a far-reaching sense of insecurity’ (Malielegaoi 2018). Some have expressed concern that the Indo-Pacific framing implies that Pacific states will inevitably have to make a strategic choice; but Taylor (2019a) ‘reject[s] the terms of the dilemma in which the Pacific is given a choice between a “China alternative” and our traditional partners’. Implicitly admonishing Australia and other states seeking bilateral security partnerships, Taylor (2018b) said that Pacific states need ‘to maintain our solidarity in the face of those who seek to divide us, particularly through the aggressive pursuit of bilateral relations’.

Therefore, while Australian leaders and officials express concern about geostrategic competition, many in the Pacific do not share their perception and it actually makes them feel insecure. This is because Pacific states do not always share Australia's geostrategic perspective, particularly as they have complex diplomatic relationships (Naupa 2017). Pacific leaders do not necessarily see China's increased presence in negative terms; according to Taylor (2019a), ‘if there is one word that might resonate amongst all Forum members when it comes to China, that word is access. Access to markets, technology, financing, infrastructure. Access to a viable future’. And in a—not so—veiled reference to Australia's step-up, Taylor (2019a) noted that ‘China's presence has meant that other actors, new and old, are resettling their priorities and stepping up engagement in the Pacific’.

Contradictions are evident within the Australian official discourse advocating the RBO in the Indo-Pacific. Beyond rhetoric, leaders and officials seem to engage in little explicit reflection about whether such an order actually exists (or still exists). There also seems to be little critical reflection about which states made the rules on which this claimed order is based, when they were made and whose interests they serve. The fact that many rules were made when Pacific states were still colonies (noting that some still are) and therefore played no active role in making them, is overlooked, as is the fact that many rules were made at times when the distribution of power in the international system was different. The question of whose interests these rules serve is even more fraught. Several aspects of the RBO have been important for Pacific states, particularly the principle of the sovereign equality of states, which has largely protected them from foreign incursion and operated as a valuable diplomatic bargaining chip. The UN Convention on the Law of the Sea has recognised and protected (at least in law) their massive—and resource rich—maritime exclusive economic zones.

The value of other aspects of the RBO for the Pacific is more questionable, calling into question whether emphasising its importance is useful to Australia's attempts to improve its relationships in the region. For example, trade liberalisation can have mixed—and often perverse—outcomes, particularly as the rules applied to Pacific states are often deeply inequitable. When Tonga acceded to the World Trade Organisation, it did so on almost the worst terms of any member state. PNG and Fiji have declined to join the Pacific Agreement on Closer Economic Relations (PACER) Plus trade agreement between Pacific states, Australia and New Zealand, out of concern that it might be economically disadvantageous. There is also little evident critical reflection about whether Australia obeys the rules. For example, Australia reiterates that it is a ‘determined advocate of liberal institutions, universal values and human rights’ (DFAT 2017, 11), yet for years operated immigration detention centres in PNG and Nauru where those rights were abused and which undermined security, democracy and the rule of law in those states.

Indeed, Pacific states would be entitled to query the strength of Australia's commitment to the RBO and the consequences when their interests do not accord with those of Australia, after Morrison (2019e) argued in September 2019 that: ‘We should avoid any reflex towards a negative globalism that coercively seeks to impose a mandate from an often-ill-defined borderless global community’. On that basis, Morrison (2019e) undertook that: ‘under my leadership Australia's international engagement will be squarely driven by Australia's national interests’. While Payne (2020) later attempted to add nuance, arguing that ‘Effective multilateralism conducted through strong and transparent institutions serves Australia's interests’, she went on say that: ‘Multilateralism for the sake of it is rather pointless. Where meetings and forums fail to reflect our values or deliver outcomes that align with our interests at home’. Indeed, in August 2020 Morrison (2020) reiterated that his ‘view hasn't changed’. This suggests that Australia will continue to prioritise its perceived national interest when engaging with multilateral institutions.

This dynamic plays out most starkly in respect of climate change. As Collin Beck (2020, 15), Permanent Secretary of the Solomon Islands Ministry of Foreign Affairs and External Trade, has said: climate change is a ‘death sentence for the Pacific’. Recognising this, the Boe Declaration (2018, clause 1(i)) specified that: ‘climate change remains the single greatest threat’ and reiterated member states’ ‘commitment to progress the implementation of the Paris Agreement’. Both as a signatory to that Declaration and in public statements, Australian leaders have recognised that:

here in the Pacific … the impact of climate change, the impact of rising sea levels, it's not a theory. It's real … And so the actions and directions that are set out in [the PIF communique] … speak about our collective commitment to continue to address those issues. (Morrison 2019g)

Yet despite rhetorically recognising the importance of climate change to its claimed Pacific family members, Australia has failed to take serious domestic policy action to address its contribution to the climate crisis, signalled by its continued commitment to coal-based power generation and to maintaining its position as the world's largest coal exporter. Australia has also been accused of being disingenuous about its claims to be meeting its Paris Agreement targets by relying on carryover credits (Morton 2019), raising further questions about its claimed commitment to the RBO. Australia has also reduced its participation in international initiatives. For example, it has stopped payments to the UN's Green Climate Fund. On hearing this news, Regenvanu responded that:

Australia keeps pushing the Pacific to follow the ‘international rules-based order’ when it comes to international relations, but Australia also needs to put its money where its mouth is and commit to the Green Climate Fund, especially if you are talking about countries committing to these international rules. (quoted in SPREP 2018)

Indeed, Australia is perceived to have stymied stronger collective commitments to address climate change within the PIF (Fry 2019). At the 2019 PIF leaders’ meeting, Australia reportedly refused to support the Tuvalu Declaration made by small island Pacific states calling for an end to the use of coal in electricity generation (Clarke 2019a). Tuvaluan Prime Minister Enele Sopoaga described the negotiations as a ‘very tough, difficult struggle’ (quoted in Lyons 2019), and reported that ‘[t]he leader of Tonga actually shed tears’ (quoted in Morrison 2019h). Referencing the discourse of family, Sopoaga commented that ‘[i]n a family atmosphere you don't openly challenge and argue’ (quoted in Fox 2019). Indeed, Fijian Prime Minister Frank Bainimarama described Morrison's behaviour as ‘very insulting and condescending’, saying that: ‘I gathered [Morrison] was here only to make sure that the Australian policies were upheld’ (quoted in Cox 2019). Former Kiribati President Anote Tong questioned: ‘How can you justify being part of a family and part of a group which you’re trying to destroy?’ (quoted in Cox 2019). However, to preserve the consensus approach that typifies PIF leaders’ meetings, Sopoaga used the discourse of family to observe that: ‘Families come together, of course they argue,’ (quoted in Morrison 2019h). Similarly, the next month, when signing the Fiji-Australia Vuvale Agreement, Bainimarama said that: ‘members of any family are entitled to their disagreements’ (quoted in Japan Times 2019). This suggests that Pacific leaders may also find the Pacific family discourse a useful way to—at least—rhetorically gloss over policy differences with Australia.

Hawke (2019a) acknowledged that ‘Sometimes Australia comes under criticism for not doing enough … on climate change’. But he followed by arguing that ‘Australia is doing more than any other partner country’. Indeed, Morrison announced a $500 million ‘Stepping up Climate Resilience in the Pacific’ package at the 2019 PIF leaders’ meeting (Morrison, Payne, and Hawke 2019). Rather than representing new funding, this package drew $500 million from existing aid funds. And the Australian government's emphasis on spending, rather than domestic action, to address climate change disappointed Pacific leaders. Sopoaga commented that: ‘No matter how much money you put on the table, it doesn't give you the excuse … not to do the right thing’ (quoted in Clarke 2019b). The Australian government's climate change assistance emphasises ‘supporting our Pacific family's own efforts to respond to climate change and to build disaster resilience’ (Morrison 2019b, 2019g; Payne 2019b). This focus on adaptation and resilience—implicitly accepting the inevitably of climate change and preparing communities to adapt to it—has disappointed the Pacific, which understandably favours mitigation.

Australian leaders have also made damaging statements relating to climate change that have cast doubt on Australia's affection for its claimed Pacific family. In September 2015 then Immigration Minister Peter Dutton was caught on microphone implying that meetings at the 2015 PIF leaders’ meeting in PNG had begun late because ‘Time doesn't mean anything when you’re about to be, you know, have water lapping at your door’ (quoted in Mathiesen 2015). Then Prime Minister Tony Abbott laughed in response. Tong described the comments as ‘morally irresponsible’, while former Marshall Islands Foreign Minister Tony de Brum noted that it ‘seems insensitivity knows no bounds in the big polluting island down [south]’ (quoted in Loop Vanuatu 2015). In October 2018 former Environment Minister Melissa Price is reported to have commented to Tong: ‘For the Pacific, it is always about the cash. I have my chequebook here. How much do you want?’ (Conifer 2018). In August 2019 Deputy Prime Minister Michael McCormack commented that: ‘I also get a little bit annoyed when we have people in those sorts of [Pacific] countries pointing the finger at Australia and say we should be shutting down all our resources sector’. He went on to say that ‘ … they’ll continue to survive on large aid assistance from Australia’ and ‘because many of their workers come here and pick our fruit’ (Smee 2019). Sopoaga labelled these comments ‘abusive and offensive’ (quoted in Japan Times). Palau's national climate change coordinator, Xavier Matsutaro, used the discourse of the Pacific family to crystallise the perspectives of many Pacific Islanders:

Australia is a bit of an anomaly, because … they’re basically sometimes as far right as [then US President Donald] Trump in some of their views on climate change … But then on a regional basis they’ve actually given a lot of support to our region.

He continued ‘it's like you are in a relationship and you get abused by your spouse but at the same time they feed you and clothe you and things like that … You could say it's a bit of a dysfunctional relationship’ (quoted in Lyons and Doherty 2018).

Ironically, while the discourse of the Pacific family is intended to enhance Australia's relationships in the Pacific to counter other powers, the government's hypocritical approach to climate change risks creating a self-fulfilling prophecy of encouraging Pacific states to seek closer relations with China. As Tong commented, ‘If someone [Australia] is determined to take you down, you don't stick with them you go and look for someone else’ (quoted in Hannaford 2019). Similarly, after the fraught negotiations at the 2019 PIF leaders’ meeting, Bainimarama commented that:

After what we went through with Morrison, nothing can be worse than him. China never insults the Pacific. You say it as if there's a competition between Australia and China. There's no competition, except to say the Chinese don't insult us. (quoted in Cox 2019)

The concept of ‘family’ is also ambiguous, because there are different understandings of the obligations it imposes. For example, in 2014 when de Brum described Australia as the Pacific's ‘big brother’, he did so in the context of arguing that Australia needs to ‘recognise that it has a responsibility’ to address the climate crisis (quoted in O’Malley 2014). As Pasifika academics Tarcisius Kabutaulaka and Katerina Teaiwa (2019) point out, ‘kinship comes with important expectations, values and responsibilities. In the Pacific, relatives can make serious requests of each other, and it's a major cultural faux pas to say no’. This raises the question of what constitutes Pacific family values, as well as how Australia will negotiate the obligations that family membership is generally understood to involve in the Pacific. For example, would Australia accept economic or environmental refugees from the Pacific; ‘Will they be treated as “family” entitled to come “home”?’ (Herr 2019). While the government's Seasonal Worker Scheme and Pacific Labour Schemes have facilitated limited Pacific labour mobility to Australia, the difficulties that many Pacific people face obtaining an Australian visa are a source of disappointment (and sometimes, resentment) in the Pacific (Newton Cain, Cox, and Presterudstuen 2020), as they suggest that Australia does not necessarily want its claimed family members to visit, let alone to stay.

Conclusion: towards consistency?

Australian leaders and officials contradict themselves with respect to the Pacific—they recognise the strategic importance of the region, and articulate a desire to enhance Australia's relationships through stepping-up its engagement with its Pacific family as equal partners and sovereign states. Yet they simultaneously demonstrate beliefs that undermine this, such as their habit of perceiving Pacific states as small, weak and vulnerable to external influence. The government also engages in behaviour that undermines this, by securitising the region through emphasising geostrategic competition and by adopting policies that directly undermine Pacific priorities, most notably with respect to climate change. Examining these contradictions is important, because for the step-up to succeed, and for Australia's strategic anxiety about the Pacific to be allayed, Australian leaders and officials must recognise how their beliefs and behaviour contribute to tensions in Australia's relationships with the region, to challenges facing Pacific states, and to insecurity within the region. The ‘Blue Pacific’ discourse offers a way for Australian leaders to achieve consistency in their approach to the Pacific, recognising that this will always be challenged by the competing interests and compromises that characterise a complex entity such as the Australian government.

The concept of the Blue Pacific was first officially articulated at the 2017 PIF leaders’ meeting, as ‘a long-term Forum foreign policy commitment to act as one “Blue Continent”’ (PIF 2017). The 2019 PIF communique set out ‘Blue Pacific Principles’, that emphasise—among other things—‘regional priorities’, a ‘partnership approach’ and ‘collective outcomes and impact’ (PIF 2019). A key element of the Blue Pacific discourse is an identity based around ‘our collective potential and our shared stewardship of the Pacific Ocean’ (Malielegaoi 2018; Puna 2019; Taylor 2019d). This reflects ideas crystallised in the work of Pacific scholars such as Albert Wendt (1976) and Hau’ofa (1994, 1998) and which had appeared in the PIF’s 2014 Framework for Pacific Regionalism (PIF 2014, 1). The Blue Pacific has become prominent in the discourse of Pacific leaders (Heine 2018; Malielegaoi 2017, 2018; Puna 2019; Taylor 2019a, 2019b, 2019d).

Another key element of the Blue Pacific narrative is that Pacific states should move to ‘exercising stronger strategic autonomy’, ‘understanding … the strategic value of our region’ and ‘maintain[ing] our solidarity in the face of those who seek to divide us’ (Taylor 2018b). This idea was reinforced by the theme of the 2018 PIF leaders’ meeting: ‘Building a Strong Pacific: Our People, Our Islands, Our Will’. Taylor has emphasised that the Blue Pacific identity is intended to highlight the unique character of Pacific diplomacy and regionalism. In a veiled dig at Australia and other partners, Taylor (2018a) has said that: ‘“leadership” is often used to indicate dominance or overt influence’, but that ‘dominance is arguably inimical to the very concept of Pacific regionalism’. Even before the Blue Pacific narrative emerged, there was evidence of a ‘new Pacific diplomacy’, with Pacific states acting in increasingly assertive and creative ways to pursue their interests (Fry and Tarte 2015).

Scepticism has been expressed about the Blue Pacific identity. Given its focus on islandness and the ocean, questions have been asked regarding its relevance to PNG, where many people have little contact with the sea (Namorong 2019). Taylor (2018a) addressed these and similar objections, arguing that:

We are all connected by the Pacific Ocean, whether we live just metres from its shores or faraway in the interior mountains and highlands of our diverse islands. I see the Blue Pacific as conveying to each other and to the wider world our common experiences and our shared commitment to working together to tackle common challenges and harness our strengths.

Related to this, academic Greg Fry (2019, 300–301) has argued that the Blue Pacific discourse implies ‘an identity mainly among the island-state membership of the PIF’. This is because Australia (and New Zealand) are ‘not emotionally part of this regional identity’, primarily due to their stance on climate change and their emphasis on geostrategic competition (Fry 2019, 325). Indeed, Hau’ofa’s (1998, 399) vision of a ‘sea of islands’, which provided the intellectual roots for the Blue Pacific identity, did not include Australia (or New Zealand), which he described as ‘domineering, exploitative, and in possession of the gentleness and sensitivity of the proverbial bull in a china shop’.

Australia has recognised the Blue Pacific identity and Australian leaders and officials use it regularly (Bishop 2018a; Hawke 2019b, 2019c; Morrison 2019b, 2019g). If Australian leaders and officials were to substantively—rather than rhetorically—incorporate the key elements of Blue Pacific into their discourse and strategic and foreign policy, this could contribute to a genuine recognition that Pacific states are sovereign, their people are resilient, and that they have agency to shape their own futures, including in their relations with other powers. This could in turn encourage the Australian leaders and officials to break their habit of seeing Pacific states as small and weak and to instead genuinely treat them as equal partners, including facilitating their active participation in geostrategic debates and in discussions about Australia's policy options. For example, Australia could adopt more policies that support Pacific-identified priorities and Pacific-led initiatives. One potentially encouraging example is the Pacific Fusion Centre, which Australia announced it would create to ‘fuse information from multiple sources’ to ‘strengthen the ability of Pacific governments to enforce their laws and protect their sovereignty’ (Payne 2018c). While there were initially fears that the Centre represented Australia pursuing its traditional geostrategic interests, it instead focused on the non-traditional security threats identified in the Boe Declaration and transitioned into the existing regional architecture. Taylor praised this move, describing it as

demonstrating the [Australian] Government's recognition that the initiative be region-led and owned – An example of the successful alignment of a regional priority with an initiative that furthers the aim of Australia's national foreign policy for stronger security integration across the region. (Taylor 2019a)

This suggests that Australian leaders and officials need to recognise that, to build positive relationships and advance Australia's strategic interests, they should seek approaches that advance both Australia's priorities and those of the Pacific.

Acknowledgements

This article is based on my professorial lecture at the University of Adelaide in August 2020 and I thank attendees for their helpful questions. It was first presented at a workshop at Deakin University hosted by Chengxin Pan, and I thank him for that invitation and thank him and other participants for their feedback. This research was funded by Australian Research Council Discovery Project DP160104692.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Additional information

Funding

This work was supported by Australian Research Council [grant number DP160104692].

Notes on contributors

Joanne Wallis

Joanne Wallis is Professor of International Security in the Department of Politics and International Relations at the University of Adelaide. Her research focuses on peacebuilding, security, and Australia’s strategy in the Pacific Islands. She is the author of editor of seven books, including Constitution making during State building (Cambridge University Press, 2014) and Pacific Power? Australia’s Strategy in the Pacific Islands (Melbourne University Press, 2017).