Government Conceals 'Very High Risk' Warning on AUKUS Submarine Deal

 

High-risk warnings from within

As the Albanese government barrels ahead with AUKUS, even its own officials have been sounding alarm bells. In a February Senate Estimates hearing, Australian Submarine Agency head Vice Admiral Jonathan Mead bluntly told senators the program was “very high risk” – and stressed that he had “made that clear to government, and the government has made that clear to the public”. Yet in reality Defence Minister Richard Marles and other ministers have never publicly echoed that stark assessment. Neither Marles nor his department has acknowledged to the Australian people that senior officials warned AUKUS might fail. Mead’s candour was the first time an AUKUS insider publicly admitted how dire the internal appraisal had been, underscoring the gap between the whispered warnings in Canberra and what’s being said in public.

Secret briefings, public silence

The Australian Submarine Agency (ASA) has confirmed it quietly briefed ministers on those risks, but then locked the details away. A Freedom of Information ('FOI') decision revealed that the ASA prepared a ministerial briefing describing AUKUS as involving “high risk” or “very high risk” – part of a defence Cabinet submission – but refused to release it on national security and Cabinet secrecy grounds. In effect, the government has been told at the top that AUKUS carries extraordinary peril, yet the electorate is in the dark. The FOI response also found no record that Marles has ever publicly acknowledged the “high” or “very high” risk status of AUKUS. Instead, officials quietly advise that risk will be “managed” or largely borne by the UK, while the Australian public hears only upbeat progress reports.

As naval analyst Rex Patrick notes, “Admiral Mead sought to bell the cat while Defence Minister Marles has not been straight with the Australian people about the very high risks of AUKUS”. In other words, even if senior figures were warning Canberra behind closed doors, no such alarm was sounded publicly by the government. According to Michael West, the discrepancy is now clear: “the Government has been caught red-handed fudging the risks associated with the AUKUS scheme. The public has been misled”. In sum, AUKUS was known to be an extraordinary gamble, but voters have been reassured only that everything is on track.

Billions on the line

All the while, taxpayer money is already flowing offshore. In Canberra’s defence budgets, an effective “down payment” to the Americans and British has begun. In April 2025, Reuters reported that Australia faced a 2025 deadline to send the US at least $2 billion to help expand submarine shipyards. Marles had announced in March that the Trump administration was demanding more funding to boost US construction capacity (in part due to President Trump’s tariffs). In practice, this means Australians must transfer cash directly to foreign yards even before any boat has been handed over. (In related moves, Canberra has already pledged some US$3–4.6 billion more to British and American submarine industries).

This stream of funds has occurred under a veil of silence. At no point has the government linked these payments to the admitted AUKUS risks. Taxpayers are told the money is to “ease production delays” or to “strengthen alliance capacity” – but few appreciate that $2 billion is due this year essentially to guarantee the deal proceeds. The lack of transparency means Australians see a surprise cheque being cut to the US, without understanding that it follows internal warnings that the project may not succeed.

No Plan B if Allies falter

The gravity of those warnings becomes clear when our allies’ own capacity is examined. In the United States, independent studies and navy reports cast doubt on the promised ramp-up of Virginia-class submarines. The Congressional Research Service has noted that US shipyards are currently building only about 1.1–1.2 Virginia subs per year, far below the 2–2.33 per year needed to meet both US Navy and AUKUS demands. Even with massive funding, analysts say it is “uncertain” the US industrial base can meet its planned targets. In plain language: the US is already scrambling to complete its own sub orders, so adding Australia’s requests is a stretch.

Across the Atlantic, Britain’s aging nuclear programme raises similar doubts. In a terse industry tweet, Patrick notes: “The UK Infrastructure & Projects Authority says delivery of AUKUS SSN reactors is unachievable.”. In other words, the very nuclear heart of the next-generation British-designed boats might not arrive on time – or at all. Government documents have reportedly given Britain a “red” rating on its own Trident replacement project for years, so it is no surprise that UK authorities privately flag the AUKUS reactor effort as beyond current capability.

Crucially, Canberra has no obvious fallback. As former prime minister Malcolm Turnbull acknowledged after talking to US insiders, if things go badly there “is no Plan B”. The only backup plan evident in US defence circles is for Australia to have no submarines of its own. An official US Congressional Research Service “Military Division of Labor” plan envisages Australia hosting American boats (for example US subs based in Perth) while diverting Australian funds to other forces. Turnbull even lays it out: if no AUKUS subs arrive, “the US navy would base some of their own [in Perth]… and Australia would invest the money it has saved into other capabilities”. In short, our “Plan B” could be that we become a client of the US and UK fleets instead of fielding our own, nuke-powered submarines.

Ex-PM Turnbull has been blunt: “It seems to me the most likely outcome will be that the Virginias will not be available to Australia… and the AUKUS SSNs will almost certainly be late”. In his view, Australia risks an extended submarine capability gap from the 2030s into the 2040s, when Collins-class boats begin to retire. Indeed, as Turnbull warns, Australia might chart a course where it finds itself without any modern subs in that critical period, effectively surrendering undersea warfare to others.

Warnings from defence veterans

These fears are echoed by campaigners and defence experts. Former senator and submariner Rex Patrick has repeatedly described AUKUS as courting disaster. In a March 2024 commentary he wrote that a litany of “serious risks have materialised in the AUKUS submarine program, yet the Government is just sleepwalking towards disasters”. His blunt assessment: a “submarines disaster” is looming. Patrick and others note that Australia’s own historical project – the cancelled Attack-class with France – had none of these external uncertainties: all the work and IP would have been domestic, making it far less risky. Now, Australians are instead betting $368 billion on foreign yards and governments, with the lure of “technology transfer” yet to be proven.

Rex Patrick’s compatriot in scrutiny, Turnbull, similarly fears catastrophic outcomes. As he put it: “A national fiscal disaster that may bankrupt our Navy is pending, a national security disaster is pending… And the average Joe and Jill Australian are the ones paying for it.”. In other words, pouring money into others’ defence industries could leave Australia both financially crippled and vulnerable. These aren’t fringe opinions – they come from experienced naval officers, politicians and officials who have seen past submarine programmes run wildly over budget and behind schedule. Yet the government has pressed ahead regardless.

Politics of AUKUS: whose baby is it?

Part of the posturing around AUKUS has been political spin. Many ordinary Labor supporters assume the deal was a Coalition initiative, an ugly legacy they inherited, but that narrative is misleading. In fact, former prime minister Scott Morrison’s 2021 announcement was explicitly about studying nuclear submarines, not committing to a build. It was Prime Minister Anthony Albanese who, in March 2023 at a ceremony in San Diego, signed the formal project documents and endorsed the full $368 billion submarines programme. As one account observes, Albanese “turned it into a formal Defence project behemoth with a projected cost of $368 billion”. In short, under Labor leadership the deal became real.

Despite that, dissenting voices within the party have been quietly frustrated. Last year’s Labor national conference saw dozens of rank-and-file delegates and branches protest the submarines plan. One report notes that 50 branches formally objected to “greater enmeshment” with the US military and to handling naval nuclear waste. At the conference, Labor backbenchers were relegated to observers’ seats while party leaders tightly controlled debate, even moving a 32-paragraph statement endorsing the $368 billion plan in order to head off a floor revolt. Some delegates publicly shouted that claims of necessary nuclear subs were “rubbish” and pleaded “don’t lead us into war”. In other words, significant parts of the Labor base have been sidelined or have had their concerns brushed aside.

This internal dynamic underscores a broader irony: AUKUS was once sold to many Australians (and within Labor) as an opposition project to disown. Now Labor has fully owned it and pushed it through. Critics point out that ordinary members were largely shut out of meaningful debate. As one Labor volunteer quipped to a Michael West reporter: many in the party think “AUKUS is Morrison’s baby”, but in fact “that’s just a convenient mistruth” – Albanese’s government cemented the deal. With dissenting MPs and unions raised against AUKUS (echoing arguments from left-wing critics and peace advocates), party leaders have so far opted for party discipline over public examination of the project’s assumptions.

The stakes: security and spending

What happens if AUKUS fails to deliver? The consequences would be stark. Australian defence planning is banking on eight nuclear-powered submarines transforming our strategic posture. Without them, Australia risks a capability gap that even greater conventional spending might not fill. Turnbull’s ghost of future subs reminds us that if there are “no submarines” in our fleet for a decade, key deterrence and intelligence tools will vanish. In practical terms, our Collins fleet will age out, and there will be no replacement in sight. NATO-style guarantees of US deployment in our waters may prove unreliable in a crisis.

Economically, the strain will be immense. The $368 billion AUKUS price tag – already more than double the cost of the cancelled French Attack-class deal – will consume a huge share of Australia’s defence budget for decades. If schedules slip (as they invariably do) or costs rise (almost certain with such a complex project), future governments will face hard choices: cut other forces, raise taxes, or borrow more heavily. Defence Minister Marles has said the price is manageable, but few outside the inner Budget circle have line-of-sight to those figures.

Moreover, the transparency failures erode public trust. When citizens hear that $2 billion has been transferred to foreign shipyards, they may reasonably wonder what recourse they have if the program falters. The government’s refusal to release the risk assessment briefing leaves taxpayers in the dark about what exactly they’re financing. As defence analyst Rex Patrick warns, Australia appears to be “sleepwalking” toward a self-inflicted strategic trap. Whether or not submarines arrive on time, the bill and the national security vulnerabilities will remain.

In sum, the AUKUS submarine deal is being executed under a cloud of secrecy and spin. Key warnings about industrial capacity and scheduling have been muted in public, even as veterans and officials urge caution. The extraordinary financial commitments and geopolitical bets made by the Albanese government rest on allies’ unproven assurances. With no clear Plan B, any failure to deliver will be catastrophic for Australia’s defence posture and budgets. Unless Canberra comes clean about the known risks and contingency plans, Australians will only learn the truth the hard way: by funding a costly venture that might never yield a single local submarine.

AUKUS and the Illusion of Security: Australia at the Crossroads of Power and Prudence

As the first quarter of the 21st century draws to a close, the AUKUS pact—once hailed in Canberra and Washington as a strategic masterstroke—now feels less like a blueprint for security and more like a relic of a fading Anglosphere. It’s a pact birthed in secrecy, sealed without meaningful consultation with our Southeast Asian and Pacific neighbours, and executed with quiet disdain toward France, whose previous submarine contract was unceremoniously torpedoed. For many Australians, the question is no longer whether AUKUS will keep us safe—but whether it will make us a target.

There is no denying the central objective behind AUKUS: to embed Australia more deeply in the American order of battle, under the guise of countering China. Yet this alignment—political, military, and ideological—is not only being challenged by a growing chorus of strategic thinkers, former leaders, and defence insiders, but it is also increasingly out of sync with the multipolar world taking shape around us.

The AUKUS deal may have been cloaked in the language of deterrence, but for many it smells of provocation. For all its scale and ambition, the agreement rests on a questionable premise: that China's rise must be militarily contained. This idea, largely incubated in Washington think tanks, has found fertile ground in Canberra’s defence establishment—despite scant evidence that China harbours territorial ambitions towards Australia.

Indeed, no country, including China, has articulated an intention to attack or threaten us militarily. Geography, prosperity, and isolation remain our greatest defence assets. But instead of capitalising on this strategic good fortune with deft diplomacy and regional partnerships, AUKUS tethers Australia to a confrontational posture in lockstep with a volatile ally.

With Donald Trump’s return to the White House, the frailty of American global leadership is once again on full display. As trust in Washington wavers even among close allies like Canada, Mexico, and parts of NATO, it would be naïve—if not reckless—for Australia to assume the US will act in anyone’s interest but its own in a crisis. AUKUS offers us a front-row seat in America’s great power rivalry, but also a front-line role in its future wars.

The irony is glaring. By declaring our loyalty to the United States so openly and so irreversibly, we may have invited the very threat we seek to deter. China already views US military infrastructure in Australia—Pine Gap, Tindal, and other “joint” facilities—as potential launch pads for American action in the Indo-Pacific. With AUKUS, those facilities become even more central to US warfighting, thereby elevating Australia’s profile as a target in any future confrontation.

This is not a hypothetical risk. It is a strategic inevitability.

Beyond the strategic misalignment, AUKUS also raises practical concerns that have been left conspicuously unaddressed. Australia will need to manage the long-term storage of highly radioactive waste—an issue still without consensus or solution. It also jeopardises our commitment to nuclear non-proliferation and complicates relations with neighbours like Indonesia and Malaysia, who have voiced disquiet about nuclear-powered submarines operating near their waters.

There is also the uncomfortable reality that AUKUS is unlikely to deliver what it promises. The plan to acquire a new class of submarines—beginning with US Virginia-class vessels, transitioning to British designs, and eventually building Australian variants—stretches across decades. Yet defence experts warn that the submarines may arrive late, over budget, and technologically obsolete in an era increasingly defined by autonomous, unmanned naval systems. In the meantime, the price tag will gut other parts of the ADF, weakening the very balance we need for self-reliant defence.

And at what cost? Interchangeability with the US military may appear as a badge of honour in some circles, but in practice it risks surrendering operational control and strategic autonomy. AUKUS will not simply make our submarines American-designed—it will make them American-commanded, just as our special forces were in Afghanistan. The lessons of that war, and of Iraq and Vietnam before it, should give us pause. Time and again, Australia has followed the US into conflicts of questionable legality, negligible success, and enduring moral injury. Time and again, we have been left to count the costs alone.

Now we are being asked to do it again—this time against our largest trading partner.

The idea that war with China is inevitable has been cultivated with alarming ease. But it is a dangerous narrative, and one not grounded in reality. China’s assertiveness—particularly on Taiwan and maritime claims—warrants attention, but it does not equate to expansionist ambition. On Taiwan, Beijing has long signalled a preference for peaceful reunification, warning only that independence or foreign interference would force its hand. Even then, Australia does not recognise Taiwan as a sovereign state, nor should it involve itself militarily in a civil conflict with Cold War origins.

The greater danger is that we become entangled in a war that is not ours to fight—dragged in not by treaty, but by habit and expectation. The deeper our forces integrate with those of the United States, the less room we leave for independent judgment. In war, decisions made in Washington will become Australian obligations. And in peace, our regional standing will continue to erode, viewed not as a neighbour, but as a proxy.

If there is a strategic imperative for Australia in this era of shifting power, it is not to cling to a fading US hegemony—but to adapt. The centre of gravity is moving. The annual State of Southeast Asia report makes this clear: regional sentiment now tilts toward China as the dominant economic and strategic actor. Half the region would side with Beijing over Washington if forced to choose—a reversal of last year’s figures. That should concern every Australian policymaker.

It is time to ask: who is AUKUS for? Certainly not the people of Southeast Asia or the Pacific, who were neither informed nor invited. Not France, our spurned partner. Not the Australian public, who were presented the pact as a fait accompli. And perhaps not even ourselves—if the goal is real security, genuine independence, and enduring peace.

There is still time to change course. A public review of AUKUS would offer a critical opportunity to reassess its assumptions, its feasibility, and its alternatives. We owe it to ourselves—and to future generations—to ask whether this is the best we can do.

Because if AUKUS is to define Australia’s strategic posture for decades to come, it must do more than echo old alliances. It must make us safer, more sovereign, and more respected in our region. Right now, it risks doing the opposite.