September marked the 25th anniversary of Australia’s military intervention in East Timor (Timor-Leste). Official commemorations tell a story of Australian sacrifice in the service of peace and humanitarianism. The grubby details of how Australia deprived one of the world’s poorest countries of billions of dollars in revenue from oil and gas royalties are missing from this narrative. 
In 2002, East Timorese Prime Minister Mari Alkatiri sat down with Australian Foreign Minister Alexander Downer to renegotiate revenue-sharing arrangements previously agreed with Indonesia when it occupied East Timor. Keeping those prior agreements in place would leave the world’s newest nation with, as Alkatiri put it, “scrapings off a plate”. Securing a decent new deal was vital to the financial future of the world’s newest nation. However, <a href="https://www.theage.com.au/opinion/how-they-fooled-us-on-east-timor-20030311-gdvctw.html">as reported in the Age</a>, decency was not on Downer’s agenda. 
“We are not going to negotiate the Timor Sea Treaty—understand that”, he told Alkatiri. “It doesn’t matter what your Western advisers say ... There will be no new joint development area for [oil and gas field] Greater Sunrise ... We are very tough. We will not care if you give information to the media. Let me give you a tutorial in politics—not a chance.” 
Downer’s arrogance and bullying are typical of how Australian imperialism has treated East Timor over many years.
When Indonesia’s General Suharto established his dictatorship in 1965, up to a million Indonesian citizens were murdered due to their actual or alleged involvement in left-wing politics. Suharto also invaded East Timor in 1975, as it was on the brink of gaining independence from Portuguese colonial rule. An estimated 200,000 East Timorese were killed as a result of the invasion, around a third of the population. 
In 1998, Suharto was forced from power by a mass democracy movement. In East Timor, the liberation struggle gathered renewed strength, with strikes and demonstrations challenging Indonesian rule. With his government near bankruptcy following the 1997 Asian economic crisis and dependent on international aid, new Indonesian president B.J. Habibie viewed East Timor as a financial and political liability. So he agreed to hold a referendum in August 1999, offering a choice between regional autonomy within Indonesia and complete independence.
The vote was overwhelmingly for independence, despite a campaign of violent intimidation waged by armed militias organised by the Indonesian military. When their defeat was confirmed, the Indonesian forces went on a rampage as they withdrew from the territory. They killed as many as 1,200 East Timorese, looted whatever they could carry away and burned anything they could not. As many as 400,000 civilians, half the population, were displaced. Up to 250,000 were transported into West Timor, most forcibly. It was both brutal retribution and a warning to those favouring independence in other Indonesian provinces, such as Aceh and West Papua.
At this point, the Australian government sent in its military to restore order. This was not due to a deeply held concern for human rights. Despite its genocidal crimes, or rather because of them, the Suharto regime had no better friend internationally than Australia. Successive governments, both Liberal and Labor, had been happy to have the threat of communism or a “South-East Asian Cuba” removed from Australia’s doorstep. But East Timorese independence was now an unavoidable reality. The transition needed to be managed so that it went as smoothly as possible, preventing the “regional instability” that Australian governments have obsessed over for decades.
Naturally, the military intervention was spearheaded by elite soldiers of the Special Air Service (SAS). These units have since gained infamy due to alleged war crimes committed in Afghanistan. But ABC investigative journalist Mark Willacy argues that the pattern of SAS brutality and lawlessness actually began in East Timor.
Reporting for Four Corners in 2022, Willacy <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2022-04-04/ghosts-of-timor:-the-dark-stain-on-australias/13826106">uncovered allegations</a> from New Zealand SAS troops that their Australian counterparts had illegally killed members of a pro-Indonesian militia or, at the very least, desecrated the bodies of combatants after they were killed. This occurred after two Australian soldiers were wounded near the town of Suai in October 1999, the SAS reportedly keen on delivering payback.
The SAS is also alleged to have <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2022-04-11/ghosts-of-timor/13836288">operated a clandestine interrogation facility</a> at Dili’s heliport. Here, detainees were tortured, including by beatings, the use of stress positions and food and water deprivation. Even the military’s own legal advisers were denied access to the facility. In one incident, Australian soldiers thought they had captured an Indonesian special forces operative—because he would not answer questions despite being tortured. In reality, he was an East Timorese civilian who suffered from hearing impairment. No Australian personnel were ever punished over these incidents, despite lengthy investigations by military police.
Beyond the actions of frontline soldiers, Australia’s whole approach was to treat East Timor as primarily a security problem, not a humanitarian crisis. Of the $3.9 billion Australia spent on the East Timor intervention between 1999 and 2004, only $225 million was spent on aid. Most of the remaining funds went towards Australia’s military and police deployment. 
Even aid spending was geared towards strengthening the East Timorese state, training for the local army and police force being prioritised above providing health services, clean water or education. East Timorese NGOs that questioned these priorities risked Australia cutting their funding. At least one organisation suffered this fate in 2004 after signing a statement criticising Australia’s stance on border negotiations.
It is, above all, the oil and gas revenues that have fuelled East Timorese anger towards Australia since its independence. In 2016, thousands of East Timorese <a href="https://redflag.org.au/article/big-protest-confronts-australian-embassy-dili">protested outside the Australian embassy in Dili</a>, chanting: “Long Live East Timor! Down with Australia!” Two years earlier, activists graffitied the embassy walls with an image of a kangaroo and an emu greedily sucking up a pot full of East Timor’s oil. It is a far cry from Australia’s self-image as liberators.
The border issue originated in a 1972 treaty in which Australia secured highly advantageous terms from Indonesia. Rather than drawing the border midway between the two countries’ land masses, it was placed at the edge of Australia’s sea-floor continental shelf, which extends far closer to the Indonesian side of the Timor Sea. This agreement left what was known as the “Timor Gap” along the stretch of coastline then controlled by Portugal.
After Indonesia’s invasion, the substantial oil and gas deposits in the Timor Sea were up for grabs. Australia and Indonesia agreed to divide these spoils without finalising a formal international border. Labor’s Gareth Evans and Indonesian Foreign Minister Ali Alitas famously signed the Timor Gap Treaty in 1989 while sipping champagne on a jet flying over the Timor Sea. Far below, out of sight and out of mind, the East Timorese continued to suffer under occupation.
This was the treaty Alkatiri wanted to renegotiate in 2002, based on the basic principle that the border, and hence division of revenues, should follow the median line between the two countries. This would put most, if not all, of the oil and gas on East Timor’s side of the border. It was a position backed up by international maritime law. So Australia simply withdrew from the international court that arbitrates maritime border disputes.
That left East Timor in a weak negotiating position, given its desperate need for finances to rebuild the country. Its government accepted treaties in 2002 and 2006 that, although granting some concessions, allowed Australia to continue extracting billions of dollars in revenue that rightfully belonged to East Timor. In particular, Australia kept hold of the bulk of future royalties expected from the unexploited Greater Sunrise gas field. 
But there was a further twist to come. In 2012, a former Australian spy, known only as “Witness K”, publicly revealed that he had been part of an operation to plant listening devices in offices of the East Timorese government during the negotiations, using the cover of an aid project. He was prompted to speak out when Alexander Downer was appointed to a lucrative position as adviser to Woodside Petroleum, which has a major stake in oil and gas developments in the Timor Sea. 
For revealing Australia’s crime, Witness K faced years of legal persecution and eventually pleaded guilty to national security offences. Even his lawyer, former ACT Attorney-General Bernard Collaery, was pursued through the courts for years before charges against him were eventually dropped. 
The spy operation gave Australia detailed information about East Timor’s negotiating position on the border dispute. It was clearly illegal and violated East Timor’s sovereignty. Yet Labor’s Julia Gillard, who was prime minister when the spying was revealed, refused to renegotiate the revenue-sharing agreement. When East Timor referred the matter to the Permanent Court of Arbitration, Australia prevented Witness K or Collaery from travelling overseas to give evidence.
The ongoing court cases and international attention were deeply embarrassing for Australia, which likes to lecture other countries about the importance of the “rule of law”, not least in relation to China’s territorial claims in the South China Sea. The legal uncertainties were also delaying the development of the Greater Sunrise field. So eventually, in 2018, a new border was agreed upon, which mostly follows the line of median distance between Australia and East Timor.
The catch? The oil and gas fields were already mostly exhausted. Only Greater Sunrise still contains major unexploited deposits, and Australia will continue to take a sizeable chunk of those royalties. Australia will not repay the billions of dollars in extra revenue that would have gone to East Timor had a fair border been established in 2002. And so the grotesque situation continues of one of the richest countries on earth draining resources from one of the poorest.
The East Timor intervention was Australia’s largest deployment of troops since the Vietnam War, heralding a new era of “regional interventionism”. Over the next decade, Australia sent military, police and government administrators to the Solomon Islands, Papua New Guinea, Vanuatu, Tonga, Nauru and once again East Timor. These neo-colonial adventures were used to justify major increases in Australia’s military budget. But they have done nothing to solve the underlying poverty and underdevelopment in Pacific island nations.
Today, Australia competes intensely with China for influence within the south-west Pacific region. Australian diplomacy makes much of China’s supposed threat to the sovereignty of smaller countries and its desire to exploit the region’s natural resources. Australia, in contrast, boasts of belonging to the “Pacific family” and is motivated only by a desire to help its neighbours. It’s hard to reconcile this rosy self-image with Australia’s history of bullying, espionage and greed in East Timor.

David Peterson

Guns, espionage and oil: the Australian intervention in East Timor 25 years on

The B-52 strategic bomber is truly a weapon of mass destruction. Designed by the United States during the Cold War to drop nuclear bombs on Russia, modern variants can carry 32 tons of bombs and cruise missiles, with a range of more than 14,000 kilometres. These death machines will soon be regularly operating from Australia’s Tindal air force base in the Northern Territory, allowing the US to strike southern China with either nuclear or conventional weapons.
Australia is an integral part of US war-fighting capabilities in Asia, hosting not only the B-52 bombers, but also detachments of US Marines and strategically vital US spy and communications bases, including at Pine Gap near Alice Springs and at Exmouth in Western Australia. Military integration with the US will only deepen when Australia takes delivery of nuclear attack submarines purchased as part of the AUKUS security pact, at a cost of hundreds of billions of dollars.
In the contest between the US and China to be Asia’s hegemonic power, Australia has bet all its chips on a US victory. Kurt Campbell, US President Joe Biden’s top diplomat responsible for the Asia-Pacific region, has praised AUKUS because it “gets Australia off the fence and locks it in for the next 40 years”. 
Both the Liberal and Labor parties celebrate the alliance with the US as crucial for protecting Australian security. In reality, the alliance makes us less safe, not more. It ensures Australia would be a target for Chinese attacks if war breaks out with the US. That includes a very real risk of nuclear attack, since US assets in Australia are a core part of its ability to target and deliver its own nuclear weapons.
Siding with the US also jeopardises nearly $200 billion annually of Australian exports to China. Those exports have underpinned decades of extraordinary profits for Australian capitalists, particularly in the mining industry.
It raises the question of why Australian policy makers have bound themselves so tightly to the US. There is now nearly total identification of Australian and US interests in Asia, more so than for any other country. A range of academics and policy commentators have criticised this position, including former senior government officials. Most notably, former Prime Minister Paul Keating has described AUKUS as “the worst deal in all history”.
According to these critics, Australia must accommodate to China’s inevitable rise in economic and military strength, even accepting a future in which Beijing replaces Washington as the region’s hegemonic power. They argue that the US cannot be relied upon for security, and so Australia should strengthen its own military capacity and refocus diplomatic efforts on building ties with China and other Asian countries.
Such criticisms have had zero impact on Australia’s political and military elites. They accept that China’s power cannot be contained in any simple way, and that the future will bring a contested multipolar international order. But they are not prepared to accept a future in which China dominates the region.
Australia therefore is looking to strengthen relations with countries such as Japan, Indonesia and India, which have their own reasons for opposing Chinese hegemony. But without the US maintaining a presence in Asia as a counterbalance, the sheer weight of China could quickly overwhelm any alternative regional alliances both economically and militarily. So in Australian eyes, the United States remains, in the words of former US Secretary of State Madeline Albright, “the indispensable nation”.
The United States certainly remains the world’s pre-eminent military power. It has an unrivalled ability to project force around the globe, including in Asia from a string of bases in South Korea, Japan, Guam and the Philippines. China’s economy may now rival the US in total size of output. But the US is still much wealthier and can afford to spend more than double China’s spending on its armed forces. Its navy currently boasts eleven aircraft carriers, compared with China’s two. The US nuclear arsenal totals more than 5,000 warheads, dwarfing the 400 or so China can muster. Only the US is capable of providing the kind of support that has allowed Ukraine to resist Russia’s invasion, or security guarantees for Israel that permit it to wage genocidal war in Gaza without fear of retaliation from Iran.
Australia is a country with grand ambitions but limited economic and military means. The US alliance acts as a force multiplier, boosting Australia’s ability to compete with rival powers on the world stage. That includes US diplomatic backing and access to intelligence resources. More tangibly, Australia is permitted to buy the latest US military technology: not just nuclear submarines, but advanced jet aircraft, missiles, naval combat systems and more. Australia simply doesn’t have the industrial base to field a modern military without the support of a larger ally.
Most importantly, the alliance provides an implicit security guarantee that no hostile power can afford to ignore. Because it is a convenient location for its military and spy bases, the US has an interest in defending Australia from any overt military threat. This includes a presumption that any country using nuclear weapons against Australia would face retaliation from the United States.
And Australia gets all this on the cheap. Australian contributions to US wars have in recent decades been rather token affairs, providing niche capabilities rather than masses of troops. The real estate for US bases costs nothing. Although increasing, Australian military spending totals less than 2 percent of total economic output, compared with 3.5 percent for the US. Without the alliance, Australia would have to spend hundreds of billions of dollars to develop “independent” capabilities, including likely building nuclear weapons of its own.
But if the US alliance boosts Australian military power, we should be clear that it has nothing to do with protecting people living here. Australia’s own strategic planning documents admit that actual invasion of this continent, by China or anyone else, remains a remote possibility. Australia is one of the most physically secure countries in the world, due to the geographic fortune of occupying a vast landmass surrounded by ocean and distant from other major powers.
Critics of the US alliance commonly explain it as the result of ingrained racism and paranoid invasion fears, with white colonialists simply assuming that other powers must covet territory they themselves had invaded by force. Hence a reliance first on Britain and then the United States as so-called great and powerful friends, bound together by racial solidarity against a hostile Asia. 
Certainly, any national ruling elite forms strategic judgements based not only on objective material interests, but also on political factors including ideological persuasion, historical developments and institutional inertia. For the nascent Australian ruling class, as offspring of the British Empire, it was a self-evident truth that its own strategic interests in the Asia-Pacific were best served by the preservation of Britain’s naval supremacy.
When Japan shattered Britain’s power in World War Two, the United States was a natural fit as a replacement great power ally. In the subsequent 80 years, cultural and ideological affinities with the US have only strengthened. Diplomatic and especially military personnel from the two countries have worked closely together for decades. The US is the largest source of foreign capital invested in Australia, outweighing Chinese investment by nearly five to one. There are considerable corporate ties between Australia and the US, and a shared commitment to free market economic doctrines. 
China, in stark contrast, appears alien and threatening, with very different political, legal and cultural traditions to Australia’s. In domestic politics, playing up fears of China resonates with racist sentiment among conservative sections of the population.
Nonetheless, the Australia-US alliance is based on more than racism or paranoia. Anti-Asian racism does not prevent Australian politicians seeking alliances for instance with Japan, formerly a direct rival for colonial possessions in the Pacific. China is perceived as a threat to Australian interests not simply because it is Asian, but because it seeks to overturn the status quo regional order that has prevailed under US hegemony over the past eight decades.
This is simply the latest manifestation of what Marxists call imperialism, in which each state strives to defend the interests of its own ruling class in the international arena. The result is systematic and unavoidable contestation over economic and strategic interests.
As China’s wealth and power grow, its ruling elites are increasingly impatient not only with US military dominance in the region, but also with the existing economic order. Under China’s state-capitalist model of development, central political authorities exercise substantial economic power, directing investment priorities and supervising business decisions. This sits uneasily with the liberal, free market model favoured by the United States and Australian capitalists. In terms of international relations, this model is codified in the so-called rules-based order.
This order is based on sovereign states, rather than colonies, empires or hierarchical trade blocs. Trade and investment decisions are largely left to the whims of the market, rather than governments directly negotiating specific trade deals or setting prices for goods. Underpinning this order is US military power, which keeps oceanic trade routes open, and a financial system based around the US dollar.
These arrangements have served the Australian ruling class well, for whom the last few decades have been a veritable golden age. As an advanced capitalist country, Australia has specialised in the efficient production of commodities like iron ore, coal and gas. Australian mining companies have reaped massive profits by producing these commodities at a quality and price that out-competes any other country. The corollary of this export strength is an equal reliance on the import of both simple and advanced manufactured goods. This reliance extends to key military inputs, including weapons and petroleum products.
As long as trade networks remain open, Australia’s economic specialisation is a strength. But if China displaces the United States as Asia’s hegemonic power, it could rewrite the “rule book” in its favour. In particular, Australia is one of the few countries that exports more to China than it imports. Market-determined pricing results in Chinese companies paying a premium for high quality Australian commodities. In the future, China could seek to impose a centrally negotiated trade regime with prices more in its favour. This might extend to future trade in lithium and rare earths.
Other concessions might also be forced on Australian capitalism. For example, China could seek to overturn the current ban on its companies operating 5G telephone networks in Australia. This ban was imposed over fears companies such as Huawei would serve as a Trojan horse for Chinese state espionage against both Australian security and commercial targets.
In short, the Australian ruling class has no desire to see an economic order based on direct political control and relative military strength, rather than free market principles. It fears being reduced to a satellite of the Chinese economy, incorporated into a trade bloc with the terms of engagement dictated by Beijing.
To date, Australia has been confident enough in resisting China’s so-called coercive statecraft. But the situation would be far less favourable without the firepower of the US navy. The experience of World War Two is deeply ingrained in Australian strategic thinking. Once British naval power was broken by Japan, Australia was cut off from its economic and military partners. It was exposed to Japanese raids, and its sphere of influence in the Pacific islands was invaded.
In the same way, Chinese military power in the future could be brought to bear on Australia well short of attempting outright invasion. Australia is particularly susceptible in both economic and military terms to any disruption to its long sea-borne trade routes. The Australian navy does not have sufficient scale to protect these routes alone, leaving Australia vulnerable to naval blockades. Small-scale raids on Australian territory or long-range missile strikes on infrastructure are further vulnerabilities. Australian fears are enhanced by Chinese success in defying the norms of international law to extend its power in the disputed South China Sea, and its threats of military action against Taiwan.
But rather than retreat into a defensive shell and seek to avoid confrontation with China, Australia’s strategy is to strengthen its own military power. In particular, that means acquiring weapons such as long-range missiles and nuclear-powered submarines, which can effectively fight Chinese forces thousands of kilometres from Australia’s shores.
Strengthening the alliance via the AUKUS deal not only gives Australia access to these weapons. It is also an attempt to influence the US itself. Since World War Two, there has been a remarkable convergence of strategic interests between Australia and the US. Writing in Australian Foreign Affairs, security studies academic Michael Wesley argues:
“The priorities for both countries are maintaining commercial access and political influence in Asia; keeping the great Pacific archipelago in friendly, or at least neutral, hands; and preventing regional domination by a hostile power that could use Asia’s resources to menace North America and Australia.”
But in the face of China’s rising power, there is the possibility that the US will simply abandon its position in Asia as not worth the cost of defending. At the very least, the US will expect its allies to make a more substantial contribution than previous token efforts to defending their joint interests. Australia hopes that by proving its worth as an ally, AUKUS will encourage the US to remain committed to their shared imperialist interests.
This is not unprecedented within the alliance relationship. During the Cold War, Australia promised to send troops to fight in Vietnam in the hope of encouraging the US to fully commit itself to containing the spread of Communism in South-East Asia.
Such manoeuvres demonstrate that the US alliance is not only an expression of Australian strategic fears, but also of its own imperial arrogance and born-to-rule mentality. Australia can and should play a role among Asia’s great powers, according to this logic, but that is possible only through a partnership with the US. Australia’s capitalists will not abandon their position in the international hierarchy lightly.
Australian confidence that a US-led regional order can be sustained against China’s challenge might ultimately be misplaced. If so, a fundamental rethinking of Australian economic and political alignments will be required. But for now, they are doubling down on the alliance with the US that has served their interests well for decades. In doing so, they risk dragging us all into a deadly confrontation between nuclear-armed rivals.

Why the US-Australia alliance against China?

The Radical Jewish Tradition: Revolutionaries, Resistance Fighters and Firebrands By Donny Gluckstein and Janey Stone Interventions, 2024. 385 pages 



As Israel lays waste to Gaza, an ideological battle rages over who can lay legitimate claim to Jewish identity and historical experience. So this excellent new work by Donny Gluckstein and Janey Stone—unapologetic Marxists, Jews and anti-Zionists—could hardly be timelier.
Zionism extols what Gluckstein and Stone refer to as the “lachrymose” (tearful) interpretation of Jewish history, according to which Jews meekly submitted to centuries of repression, only to find redemption through the establishment of Israel as a Jewish ethno-state. In contrast, Gluckstein and Stone uncover the radical Jewish tradition, which combated anti-Semitism with socialist politics and international working-class solidarity, encompassing Jews and non-Jews alike.
The spread of capitalism across Europe revolutionised social structures and political agencies. Confronted by an increasingly self-conscious working class, the capitalist class and its hangers-on came to rely on nationalism and racism to forge alternative political identities that did not threaten their rule.
This included using anti-Semitism to turn sections of the working class against each other, especially in eastern and central Europe. Gluckstein and Stone demonstrate how anti-Semitism was not innate among non-Jewish workers but was consciously promulgated by the ruling classes in a strategy of divide and rule. The result was pogroms, systematic discrimination and ultimately the Holocaust.
Anti-Semitism drew three main responses from the European Jewish community. First, liberal assimilationism emphasised political respectability and adaptation to locally dominant national cultures. Second, Zionism—Jewish nationalism—argued that anti-Semitism could not be defeated within Europe, and that Jews needed their own nation-state to protect their interests. These responses were popular among the minority of middle- and upper-class Jews.
But the majority of European Jews were workers. They confronted both the economic exploitation common to their class and the racism specifically directed at Jews. Only the socialist movement promised to eradicate the single underlying cause of this dual oppression: capitalism. Consequently, Jews played a disproportionately important role in the development of the socialist movement, both as leaders and among the rank and file.
Jewish socialists frequently clashed with conservative religious leaders, middle-class Jews who craved respectability, and Jewish factory owners who were happy to exploit their co-religionists—or occasionally refused to employ Jewish workers because they were too rebellious! These conflicts shattered the illusion of a unitary Jewish community. 
Defying their impoverishment and political repression, working-class Jews again and again showed their fighting spirit. Stone and Gluckstein trace these stories of resistance from the ghettos of eastern Europe to the slums and sweatshops of New York and London’s East End. The class struggle encompassed consumer boycotts, rent strikes and above all unionisation and strikes. Jewish workers were in particular pioneers of the class struggle in the Russian empire, where they frequently made up a high proportion of the urban working class.
Socialists also organised resistance against anti-Semitism. Armed militias defended communities against pogroms in eastern Europe, while mass mobilisations drove back the British Union of Fascists in 1930s London. Even when unsuccessful, such actions developed political consciousness and self-respect among participants. A particularly moving chapter describes the heroic defiance of armed ghetto uprisings against the Nazis.
Gluckstein and Stone do not shy away from the political debates thrown up in the course of struggle. Some currents combined aspects of socialism with Jewish nationalism, resulting in so-called labour Zionism. This contradictory approach inevitably resulted in Zionist chauvinism winning out over socialist internationalism. Labour Zionists eventually played a key role in the establishment of Israel and the dispossession of Palestinian workers and peasants.
There were also socialists who argued that Jews needed to form separate political parties and unions, exclusive of non-Jews, to counter their specific racial oppression. This foreshadowed what we would today call “identity politics” and “autonomous organising”. But the most successful approach was that of the Bolshevik party, in which many Jews played a leading role. They insisted that all workers should unite in revolutionary organisations, so they could more effectively struggle together against both racism and capitalism. Under Bolshevik leadership, the Russian Revolution was a highpoint in the fight against anti-Semitism, with legal equality secured and pogroms at last suppressed in the land of the tsars.
Ultimately, the Jewish radical tradition shared the fate of the wider European revolutionary socialist movement, suffering crushing defeats under Nazism and Stalinism. Zionism emerged as the dominant political force among Jews following World War Two.
But, as Gluckstein and Stone argue, those earlier generations of rebels have bequeathed a vital political legacy to socialists today:
“This is not a sectional history; it belongs not just to Jews or Jewish socialists but to all people who fight back against the horrors of capitalism, who engage in the struggle to transform the world. It is ... a guide to uniting to resist the threat of annihilation that has returned today.”

Guns, espionage and oil: the Australian intervention in East Timor 25 years on

Why the US-Australia alliance against China?

Documenting Jewish radicalism

What is the Australian state?

Australia and the drive to war with China

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