How we dodged a bullet by sinking the French submarines deal

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This was published 2 years ago

Opinion

How we dodged a bullet by sinking the French submarines deal

While the public discussion about Australia’s AUKUS pivot has been dominated by the geostrategic and technological angles, it’s mostly overlooked what I see as its biggest coup: good economics. Taking a French nuclear submarine and replacing the nuclear reactor with a diesel engine to avoid a domestic political dust-up over nuclear energy – while holding out the possibility of converting back to nuclear later – was a uniquely Australian solution to a simple problem.

Just like its Collins-class predecessor, the French-designed Shortfin Barracuda was compromised by the need to reconcile our geographic isolation with our rejection of a domestic nuclear capability.

President Joe Biden meets  Australian Prime Minister Scott Morrison this week.

President Joe Biden meets Australian Prime Minister Scott Morrison this week. Credit: Ilya Savenok

That an Australian government has finally refused to throw likely hundreds of billions in good money after bad should be a great relief to us all. The opposition’s instinct was to call out the $2 billion or so “wasted” under the pivot. To the contrary, the decision is a triumph over what might otherwise have been the most expensive instance of “sunk-cost fallacy” in Australian history. This basic economic error – the tendency to follow through on something we’ve already invested in regardless of the costs and benefits of doing so – explains too many of our big public policy blunders.

That doesn’t mean the succession of governments that got us into this mess should escape blame. Both sides of politics had a hand in it: the Rudd-Gillard governments in dragging their feet, perhaps spooked by Labor’s Collins-class legacy; and the Abbott-Turnbull governments in overseeing the farcical “competitive evaluation process” that has now left two of our major allies in Japan and France bruised.

But we now have a fresh start. While it required initiative, the stars were aligned. Five years earlier or later, it wouldn’t have been possible. Nor under a Labor government whose left flank would never have countenanced a fleet of “floating Chernobyls”.

It needed a US president desperate to look as tough on China as his predecessor, and a British prime minister desperate to prove that his was still a relevant global power.

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But capitalise on the situation we did. Prime Minister Scott Morrison is often framed as a stubborn person. But his determination not to be bound by past decisions, his willingness to pivot in changing circumstances, is probably his abiding strength. While his predecessors Tony Abbott and Malcolm Turnbull tied themselves in knots to buy subs powered by anything but nuclear, Morrison cut through it all to do what nobody else could.

What the government demonstrated with this decision is an uncommon willingness to take a short-term political risk for a long-term policy benefit. We can argue about the relative merits of diesel v nuclear propulsion and the virtues or otherwise of a greater alignment with the old Western powers. But for those who’ve lamented the timidity of our political leaders in the face of an ever more brittle political environment, this is a glass of ice water in hell.

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And our obsession with the geostrategic and technological has distracted from what really happened here. The government tore up its $90 billion contract with France’s Naval Group. It secured access to prized American and British nuclear-propulsion technology, which would allow us to build nuclear subs without the need for a nuclear industry. And we’ll now undergo an 18-month consultation process to determine which submarines we will choose. Lots of options, no firm commitments, and a rapidly unravelling procurement catastrophe averted.

The challenge now is not to make the same mistakes all over again. Our choice of submarine, whether it be the existing American Virginia-class or British Astute-class, or participation in the development of their successors, must be driven by suitability and capability per dollar, period.

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The economics will be critical. Our planned eight submarines would more than double the Brits’ scale (currently planning just seven subs), spreading a fixed development budget much more thinly. This seems more advantageous than our being a bit player to the Americans (currently planning 66 subs), which might explain the otherwise puzzling “UK” in AUKUS.

While quenching our thirst for South Australian manufacturing jobs might be irresistible, we should be open to the middle road we closed off under the French deal. We don’t expect any submarines built in Australia to be completed for at least 15 years. If our looming capability gap can be filled initially with a couple of off-the-shelf American or British-built subs, then so be it. And we should be willing to entertain a mixed fleet, including off-the-shelf, foreign-made diesels, if overall it will better suit our needs.

And we must also apply our newfound comprehension of the sunk-cost fallacy to the other defence procurement catastrophes on our radar. The $45 billion Hunter-class Future Frigates are now 50 per cent more expensive and 18 months later than originally planned. The $17 billion Joint Strike Fighter, committed to in haste in 2002 without a tender process, formal evaluation, or any idea of cost or delivery schedule, is another example. And these are atop a very long list.

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Many of the problems with the French submarines are common to our other defence procurement failures: our arrogance in demanding locally tailored solutions rather than cheaper, simpler, off-the-shelf options; our indulgence in marrying defence and industry policy; and our folly in not ensuring contracts impose the consequences of cost blowouts and delays on the party responsible for them.

We really dodged a bullet with AUKUS. So let’s keep our heads down, and not jump right back up out of the trenches into no man’s land.

Steven Hamilton is an assistant professor of economics at George Washington University and visiting fellow at the Tax and Transfer Policy Institute at the ANU.

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