Australia's Balancing Act: Managing US Alliance While Relying on China Trade

It's getting harder and harder to maintain, but Australia has to do it.
A scholar on Australia's impossible position between two superpowers it cannot afford to lose.
Mark

So Australia is basically caught between two powers it can't afford to lose. How did it get here?

Mimi

It started with economics. China became hungry for commodities in the early 2010s, and Australia opened its doors. Trade boomed. But security concerns about China's military growth have pushed Australia to deepen ties with the US at the same time.

Luke

But here's the thing — the public doesn't trust either of them much. Only 31 percent trust the US, 28 percent trust China. So the government is making these massive commitments while Australians themselves are increasingly doubtful.

Mark

What changed the relationship with China?

Mimi

The COVID investigation request in 2020 was the turning point. China saw it as an accusation and retaliated with tariffs. Then Australia cancelled Victoria's Belt and Road agreement. The relationship has been tense ever since, though it's improved somewhat under the current government.

Luke

But improved how? China just slapped 55 percent tariffs on beef this year despite the free trade agreement. That's not really improvement — that's just less hostile than it was.

Mark

So why doesn't Australia just pick a side?

Mimi

Because it can't. Economically, China is irreplaceable. Militarily, the US is irreplaceable. For the first time, a majority of Australians think the China relationship matters more than the US one. But the government is still betting on America.

Luke

That's the real tension, isn't it? The government's strategy and public opinion are diverging. And nobody's even saying out loud who they're preparing to fight against.

Mark

Is this sustainable?

Mimi

Experts say Australia has to maintain the balance because the alternative — choosing sides — would be catastrophic. But they also say it's getting harder every year.

Luke

The question nobody's answered is what happens if China or the US forces that choice. Right now it's a balancing act. But balancing acts don't last forever.

  • Australian forces are training for 'total war' in the Queensland bush alongside American and Japanese troops, with the unnamed adversary understood by all but spoken by none.
  • US military presence on Australian soil has grown twelvefold since 2012, nuclear submarines are on order, and American bombers now operate from upgraded Northern Territory bases — a security commitment with no easy exit.
  • China has responded to Australian independence — over COVID inquiries, Belt and Road withdrawal, and detained journalists — with punishing tariffs, even as it remains the engine of Australian export prosperity.
  • A majority of Australians now believe the China relationship matters more than the American one, yet fewer than a third trust either superpower to act responsibly in the world.
  • Canberra is doubling down on Washington at the precise moment public faith in American reliability is eroding, a divergence between government strategy and popular sentiment that grows harder to sustain.
  • Australia cannot choose a side without catastrophic cost — and so it must hold both, in a balancing act that becomes more precarious with every escalation between the powers it depends on.

Between the scrubland of northern Australia and the boardrooms of Beijing, a nation rehearses for a war it cannot name while remaining economically bound to the power it quietly prepares against. Australia's deepening military integration with the United States — expanding bases, nuclear submarines, joint exercises — unfolds alongside an irreducible dependence on China as its largest trading partner. This is not indecision but the condition of a middle power caught between the gravitational pull of two civilizational rivals, each offering something the other cannot replace. The balancing act is not a strategy so much as a necessity, growing more precarious as the distance between Washington and Beijing widens.

In the scrubland north of Townsville, Australian, American, and Japanese forces are rehearsing for a conflict no one will name. The exercise is called Southern Jackaroo. When Brigadier Ben McLennan describes it as preparation for 'total war,' and is asked who the enemy is, he falls silent. The silence says enough.

Australia's strategic posture has shifted decisively in recent years, driven by the undeniable pace of China's military expansion. The 2026 National Defence Strategy names the tension plainly — intense competition between Washington and Beijing — and Australia has responded by drawing closer to the United States. Marine deployments have grown from 200 to 2,500 since 2012. American B-52 bombers now operate from upgraded Northern Territory bases. Through AUKUS, nuclear submarines are on order. The direction of travel is unmistakable.

Yet this security embrace sits uneasily alongside economic reality. China remains Australia's largest trading partner, a relationship built on seemingly boundless Chinese appetite for Australian commodities. That partnership has since been tested by diplomatic ruptures — Australia's call for a COVID origins investigation, its withdrawal from the Belt and Road Initiative, the detention of journalist Cheng Lei for over three years, and 55 percent tariffs on Australian beef imposed even under a standing free trade agreement. The fractures are real, but so is the dependence.

Ordinary Australians feel the paradox acutely. A Lowy Institute poll found 61 percent now view China primarily as an economic partner rather than a security threat, and for the first time, a majority believe the China relationship matters more than the one with the US. Yet trust in both superpowers is thin — just 31 percent trust America to act responsibly, and only 28 percent extend that trust to China.

Researchers note the disconnect between public sentiment and government strategy. While Canada and other middle powers have begun distancing themselves from an unpredictable Washington, Australia has chosen deeper integration. Former Prime Minister Kevin Rudd has spoken of 'radical changes' reshaping the national security landscape, as America debates its own global role and China continues its ascent. When Xi Jinping recently invoked the Thucydides Trap in conversation with Donald Trump, Australia was the nation sitting in the space between them.

The conclusion drawn by those who study it most closely is not comforting but it is clear: Australia will not choose one side and abandon the other. It cannot afford to. The military exercises, the expanding bases, the submarines — none of these signal an intention to treat China as an outright enemy. But neither can Beijing be antagonized beyond a certain threshold when Chinese demand underpins the Australian economy. The balancing act is not a policy preference. It is a structural condition, and it grows more precarious with every passing year.

In the scrubland north of Townsville, the Australian military is rehearsing for a war nobody wants to name. Snipers crack through the bush. Missiles streak across the sky. Drones hum overhead, followed by the thud of helicopter rotors. The exercise, called Southern Jackaroo, involves Australian, American, and Japanese forces training together in what Brigadier Ben McLennan describes as preparation for "a total war" — the kind not seen since the world wars. When asked directly who the enemy is, McLennan stays silent. The answer, though unspoken, hangs over everything Australia is doing right now.

Australia's military posture has shifted dramatically in recent years, driven by one undeniable fact: China's military is growing faster than any other nation's on earth. The 2026 National Defence Strategy names this plainly — "intense competition between major powers, principally the United States and China" — and Australia has responded by lashing itself tighter to Washington. The numbers tell the story. In 2012, the US deployed 200 Marines to Australia for six-month rotations. Today that figure stands at roughly 2,500. American B-52 bombers now have upgraded bases to operate from in the Northern Territory. And through the AUKUS alliance with the US and UK, Australia is acquiring nuclear submarines, a commitment that signals where its security bets are placed.

Yet this deepening embrace of American military power sits uneasily alongside a stubborn economic reality: China is Australia's largest trading partner. The relationship began in the early 2010s when Beijing's appetite for Australian commodities seemed bottomless. Chinese President Xi Jinping was invited to address parliament. A free trade agreement was signed in 2015. For a moment, it looked like a partnership that could sustain itself indefinitely. Then the fractures appeared. When Australia called for an investigation into COVID's origins in 2020, China retaliated with tariffs. In 2021, Australia became the first nation to withdraw from China's Belt and Road Initiative, cancelling Victoria's participation. Australian journalist Cheng Lei was detained in China for more than three years before her release in 2023. This year alone, China imposed 55 percent tariffs on Australian beef, even as the free trade agreement theoretically protected such trade.

The paradox has not escaped ordinary Australians. A Lowy Institute poll found that 61 percent now view China primarily as an economic partner rather than a security threat — up 11 points from the previous year. More strikingly, for the first time, a majority of Australians (51 percent) believe the relationship with China matters more than the one with the United States. Yet trust in both superpowers remains fragile. Only 31 percent of Australians trust the US to act responsibly in the world. Just 28 percent extend that trust to China. The government, meanwhile, is betting heavily on America even as Australians themselves grow skeptical of whether Washington can be relied upon.

Charles Lyons-Jones, a research fellow at the Lowy Institute, notes the disconnect: the Australian government is tying itself ever closer to the US at precisely the moment when public confidence in American reliability is eroding. Other middle powers, like Canada, have begun repositioning themselves in response to what they see as an increasingly unpredictable United States. Australia has chosen the opposite path — deeper integration, not distance.

The challenge is that Australia cannot afford to choose. Former Prime Minister Kevin Rudd, a fluent Mandarin speaker, recently spoke of "radical changes" reshaping Australia's national security, including "the rise and rise of China at a time when America continues to debate what sort of global power it wants to be." Marina Yue Zhang, an associate professor at the University of Technology Sydney, frames the larger question: "Is this the big brother we can all trust and put all our faith in?" When Xi Jinping met with Donald Trump in Beijing earlier this year, the Chinese president invoked the Thucydides Trap — the theory that conflict becomes nearly inevitable when a rising power challenges an established one. Australia sits in the space between them.

Zhang is clear about what this means: "There's no way Australia will choose one side and dump the other — it's not in their interests. It's getting harder and harder to maintain, but Australia has to do it." The military exercises in Townsville, the expanding American bases, the nuclear submarines on order — these are not signs of a nation preparing to abandon its security alliance. But neither can Australia afford to treat China as an enemy when Chinese demand for Australian iron ore, coal, and agricultural products remains essential to the national economy. The balancing act is not a choice. It is a necessity that grows more precarious with each passing year.

We're rehearsing for a war — the worst type of war — a World War Two-like war, a World War One-type war, a total war.
— Australian Army Brigadier Ben McLennan
There's no way Australia will choose one side and dump the other — it's not in their interests. It's getting harder and harder to maintain, but Australia has to do it.
— Marina Yue Zhang, Associate Professor at the University of Technology Sydney
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