I'd be very carful about falling to the allure of the short victorious war - that's been a common promise for centuries. The fact of the matter is if it's peers, it's almost certain to go on, and if there is strong ethos on one side it'll continue. Even outgunned, unprepared and overmatched the Taliban and AQ dragged Afghanistan out 20 years - and won.
Wars of attrition are the most likely outcome between peers. Simply because one cannot easily break the other.
I think you are missing the core message here; there is no falling to the allure of the short victorious war. Merely discussion. While it's true that wars between near-peer states risk turning into drawn-out battles of attrition (as we have seen in Ukraine), recent history shows that not all conflicts between peers inevitably become long wars, and that short successful campaigns are still common, especially when combined with superior technology, surprise or intelligence-led tactical advantage, and/or decisive strategic strikes or operational momentum.
• The Six-Day War (1967)
• The Indo-Pakistani War (1971)
• The Yom Kippur War (1973)
• The Sino-Vietnamese War (1979)
• The Falklands War (1982)
• The Invasion of Kuwait (1990)
• The First Gulf War (1990–1991)
• The Russia–Georgia War (2008)
I’m sure you have a sound knowledge of military history, and don’t need to hear it from me.
However, you reference the 20-year GWOT in Afghanistan, against the Taliban and AQ etc. This was not really a single, unified conflict, but rather a series of evolving counterterrorism and counterinsurgency operations, with Afghanistan at the centre. It was characterised by asymmetry, insurgency, and efforts at nation-building, a conflict that lacked consistent strategic objectives. Over time, the mission shifted from targeting al-Qaeda and removing the Taliban, to stabilising the country and building a functioning Afghan state. All of this resulted in a prolonged, complex engagement with no clear endpoint. Like Vietnam before it, the Afghanistan conflict was not fought against a true nation-state peer adversary, as much of the fighting was against insurgents and irregulars and the lines between combatant and non-combatant were blurred. It was a war shaped by asymmetric warfare, where a technologically superior force confronted a decentralised and ideologically driven, motivated enemy using guerrilla tactics and local networks.
In fact, many of the long, drawn-out conflicts in recent times have involved significant participation from irregulars or non-professional citizen armies rather than direct peer-on-peer military confrontations. This is also true in Ukraine, where citizen-soldiers, armed with drones, and asymmetric tactics have proved highly effective.
Vietnam, Afghanistan, and Ukraine share a common thread. They are not clean, conventional peer-on-peer wars but rather asymmetric conflicts driven by peoples defending their homeland. These wars are shaped by irregular tactics, ideology, and geopolitics, with both sides utilising new or unconventional strategies. In each case, the stronger, more technologically advanced power faces a determined, resourceful opponent using guerrilla tactics, terrain, and local support networks to level the playing field. All of these conflicts also involve extensive use of information warfare and proxy intervention, further complicating traditional military strategies. Ultimately, they highlight the evolving nature of warfare, where political motives, new technologies, and unconventional tactics redefine the boundaries of traditional conflict.
But back on track, it’s the threat of decisive strategic strikes that should concern Australia most. The challenge isn’t just deterring such strikes, but surviving them: ensuring we possess the strategic depth, resilience, and,
importantly, the national will to remain in the fight. Only then can we mobilise the full weight of our national resources, professional and civilian alike, to hold out, adapt, and ultimately frustrate a larger, more powerful adversary. Said strikes may come in the form of missiles, from within, or they may be non-kinetic. In the case of the latter, shots have already been fired.
If the bulk of the Air Force, fleet, and key infrastructure is wiped out in the first hundred hours, it is a very long road back. This, I suspect, is why we’re now seeing greater focus on national resilience: on hardening infrastructure, securing supply chains, industrial capacity, and civil defence, and rightly so. But without sufficient force volume and depth to absorb those initial losses, we are left dangerously exposed. After that, it becomes like shooting ducks in a barrel until we can regenerate our forces. This is one of the reasons why the DSR decision to concentrate our modest mechanised forces and bulk of the helicopter fleet in Townsville, within missile range, was a bit perplexing to me.
The solution isn’t merely more tanks, ships, air defence systems, or fighters, nor just a mobilisation plan, though these are necessary. What’s required is a reimagining of defence as a layered, redundant, deeply embedded, and dispersed national defence enterprise, one that brings together society, defence, the economy, infrastructure, industry, and technology into a balanced and resilient cohesive whole.
While wars can become long and attritional, particularly those involving insurgencies like Afghanistan or Vietnam, history shows that peer or near-peer conventional conflicts, when driven by clear objectives, superior technology, sound planning, and precise execution, can end quickly and decisively. All that said, the risk of ignoring all the warning signs and underinvesting in defence before tensions boil over is clear. We could find ourselves on the losing side of a short, sharp war where the outcome is decided in days, not years. Incapacitated, isolated, and unable to fully mobilise or to hold out long enough for reinforcements or allied support to arrive. With the way the world is going, there is no solid guarantee that support would ever arrive, especially if things kick off elsewhere at the same time.
With our small population, limited industrial capacity, and modest defence force, if we are caught in a long war of attrition against a more powerful adversary and our high-end assets have already been destroyed, our prospects aren’t great. Australia is a wealthy nation with abundant natural resources, but without the industrial depth to turn those resources into military power quickly. A small, highly professional force backed by a determined population can be effective, but only if it survives the opening blow. And in a high-intensity Pacific conflict, we may not get the luxury of time to rally, rebuild, and then mobilise. History has repeatedly warned of the cost of underinvestment, strategic complacency, and being too slow to act.
So, the question is, can Australia survive the first strikes, stay in the fight, and respond decisively and with enough force, speed, and combat power to turn the tide before it’s over?
If the answer is no, then we must ask the only question that matters. What can we do
now to make sure the answer becomes yes?