Considering Military Involvement in Australia’s Domestic Counter-Terrorism Apparatus

Abstract

Terrorist threats are evolving globally, and nations are grappling with the traditional division between civil and military affairs in their responses to what have essentially become paramilitary actors. Although Australia has largely been spared the extremes of domestic terror, such as events in Mumbai (2008), Paris (2015) and Nairobi (2019), the 2014 Lindt Café siege in Sydney highlighted the challenges Australian forces face in dealing with this developing dichotomy. This article draws on the lessons of the Lindt Café siege to explore and evaluate a number of models by which state and Commonwealth authorities might most effectively respond to future threats of domestic violence without supplanting civil primacy. It finds that ‘outsourcing’ military-level lethal capacities to civil forces is preferable in terms of both cost-effectiveness and preventing the militarisation of civil forces, and reviews the Defence Amendment (Call Out of the Australian Defence Force) Act 2018 against this standard. It makes a number of recommendations to address what is perceived as the politicisation of the military call-out procedure such that Australia might optimally respond to threats of domestic violence without undermining the long-established distinction between civil and military actors.

Introduction

The changing pattern of domestic terrorist attacks is creating a new challenge for Western nations in managing national security. Modern democratic ideals dictate that civil authorities ought to be primarily responsible for responding to domestic threats, including terrorist threats, but the modus operandi of many terrorist actors has evolved to the point where civil authorities are often neither trained nor equipped to address them.¹ Thus, while civil security services are capable of handling relatively small-scale events, more severe attacks, such as those in Mumbai, Nairobi and Paris, often exceed the capacities of those civil services and challenge the traditional division between civil and military affairs.²

The 2014 Lindt Café siege in Sydney highlighted the legislative and procedural challenges facing Australian authorities in responding even to a lone-actor terrorist attack. In that incident, the New South Wales (NSW) Police Force (the civil security) responded to the terrorist threat without formally involving the Australian Defence Force (ADF) (the military). This decision was not directly criticised by the Coroner’s report on the Lindt Cafe Siege,³ but perceived shortcomings in the actions of the NSW Police Force led the Coroner to recommend that civil and military forces review the criteria governing applications for the military to be ‘called out’ in comparable civil incidents.⁴ These criteria were subsequently updated in the Defence Amendment (Call Out of the Australian Defence Force) Act 2018⁵ (the 2018 Act), which was passed in November 2018 to address a number of legislative barriers to effective civil–military cooperation in similar incidents.

This article first reviews the foundational legislative distinctions between national military and domestic (state) civil security services in Australia. It then explores the shortfalls in legislative arrangements regarding military involvement in Australia’s domestic counter-terrorism apparatus as highlighted by the events and outcomes of the 2014 Lindt Café siege. Drawing on the findings of the 2016 coronial inquiry into the Lindt Café siege, it then presents and assesses three possible models to address these shortcomings and compares the benefits of these conceptual models to key elements introduced in the 2018 Act. The article concludes by offering a number of recommendations to limit perceived issues of Commonwealth overreach and military politicisation while still maximising the effectiveness of domestic responses by both civil and military forces to acts of domestic violence.

Australia’s Legislative Architecture

The distinction between the roles of military and civil security agencies in Australia is entrenched in sections 51(vi), 114 and 119 of the Constitution.⁶ Military primacy—power over ‘the naval and military defence of the Commonwealth and of the several States and the control of the forces to execute and maintain the laws of the Commonwealth’—is exclusively held by the Commonwealth under section 51(vi). Section 114 supports this by prohibiting states from raising or maintaining any autonomous naval or military force without the Commonwealth’s consent, although section 119 then obliges the Commonwealth to ‘protect every State against invasion and, on the application of the Executive Government of the State, against domestic violence’.

The process for enabling Commonwealth military intervention in state matters at the time of the Lindt Café siege was established some 20 years earlier, in the lead-up to the 2000 Sydney Olympics. Until amended by the 2018 Act, Part IIIAAA of the Defence Act 1903⁷ specified that a state government could only request Commonwealth military intervention in the case of likely or actual domestic violence and with all other available options exhausted (section 51B). Section 51A(3), however, provided for unilateral Commonwealth involvement if a state was not able to defend Commonwealth interests, for example against a nuclear or chemical threat. Section 51A(3)(a) also specified that, if it is impractical to request a state’s permission to deploy under Section 51A(3), such a requirement does not apply.

Part IIIAAA was amended in 2006 by a new section 51CA, which enabled the Prime Minister and various Commonwealth ministers to direct ADF intervention in state matters in specific circumstances without needing state agreement, provided one or more Commonwealth officials had determined specifically that ‘the State is not, or is unlikely to be, able to protect itself against the domestic violence’, although there was some debate about the scope of the phrase ‘domestic violence’.⁸ In essence, at the time of the Lindt Café siege, the ADF could become involved in a domestic terrorism incident if a Commonwealth politician determined that a state was incapable of protecting or unwilling to protect its people. This may seem expeditious, but the political fallout from such a decision and the implicitly unwelcome intrusion on state rights meant that the expedited call-out process could be used in only the most extreme circumstances.

Lessons from the Lindt Café siege

The Coroner’s report on the Lindt Café siege judged that the requirements for responding to the threat posed by the assailant were ‘at all times within the capacity of the [NSW Police Force]’.⁹ There were indications, however, that the NSW Police Force was at the limits of its operational capabilities during the siege. For example, 11 individual ‘flashbang’ devices were used and 22 bullets were fired by the assaulting officers to eliminate a single target.¹⁰ The assailant was shot 13 times,¹¹ whereas military experts contend that only two shots should ever be necessary.¹² Furthermore, the small- calibre, high-velocity rounds used by the police fragmented on impact, causing the death of one of the hostages and wounding an additional three, as well as an officer.¹³

Although each state’s designated counter-terrorism forces spend two weeks each year at the ADF’s counter-terrorism training facility in Perth and occasionally conduct joint training exercises with ADF Special Forces Tactical Assault Group (TAG) teams,¹⁴ as civil forces they necessarily lack the level of preparation and operational experience of TAG team members. ADF Special Forces members on TAG rotation devote 52 weeks a year to counter-terrorism exercises, firing thousands of rounds per week.¹⁵ In contrast, State Protective Groups (SPGs)—civil security units with a regular mandate to police rather than neutralise—are broadly operational, being deployed in situations from suicide intervention to high-risk warrant executions.¹⁶ Between January 2008 and August 2015, for example, the NSW SPG was deployed to 1,345 separate incidents, only one of which (the Lindt Café siege) was of a terrorist nature.¹⁷

A number of authors have questioned whether collateral casualties may have been avoided in the Lindt Café siege if the more practised military professionals, rather than less-drilled civilian actors, had conducted the critical raid.¹⁸ According to the Coroner’s report, TAG East (stationed at Holsworthy Barracks) understood the Lindt Café siege’s operational environment at least as well as the NSW Tactical Operating Unit (TOU), but its expertise was not used.¹⁹ Indeed, it appears that no serious consideration was given to the ADF entering the café,²⁰ even if the possibility was canvassed, albeit non-specifically, in the Coroner’s report.²¹

The process for enabling Commonwealth military intervention in state matters at the time of the Lindt Café siege was established some 20 years earlier, in the lead-up to the 2000 Sydney Olympics. (Image courtesy Defence)

Options for Optimising Domestic Responses to ‘New’ Threats

By global standards, the Lindt Café siege was relatively small in scope, but Australia cannot always expect to be spared attacks of the dimensions seen in Mumbai, Paris or Nairobi. Public policy should, therefore, allow the best response to terrorism threats of any magnitude. Policy settings enabling the ADF’s involvement, however, must be inherently balanced with considerations for state primacy and constitutional limitations.

There are three possible models by which the Australian Government might achieve this, based on the lessons from the Lindt Café siege and the Coroner’s recommendations:

• Broadly militarising the police SPGs (particularly the various TOUs) so that they are as well trained as the ADF Special Forces TAG teams
   
• Streamlining current call-out procedures to remove theoretical and practical hurdles to appropriate military involvement whenever necessary
   
• Establishing a pre-emptive agreement under which states must request (or be deemed to have requested) military involvement based on the recommendation of a legislated non-state actor, such as an independent and expert group, subject to such consultation as is practicable.

Model 1: Militarising Police Units

A major hurdle for militarising police forces (the first model) is that section 114 of the Constitution prevents state forces from exercising paramilitary capabilities. The present capabilities of the SPGs, including state and territory forces’ standing access to ADF training facilities,²² arguably already breach this provision.²³ Concerns of this nature would undoubtedly escalate if SPGs were required to develop further military capabilities. In addition, it would require considerable expenditure by each state to ensure its dedicated counter-terrorism units were trained to par with ADF Special Forces and to maintain what are largely duplicate capabilities. The magnitude of this expenditure is suggested in the Department of Defence Annual Report 2001–02, which noted that establishing TAG East alone cost almost $220 million over its first four years of operation, even when drawing from extant personnel and equipment pools.²⁴ Thus, even beyond concerns of legality or practicability, cost alone is likely to deny public support for each state to militarise parts of its forces to meet this standard.

That states are not capable of deploying potentially necessary military-level lethal capabilities means that ADF involvement must be, in some situations, unavoidable. Deploying ADF elements parallel to their state counterparts will inevitably draw criticism based on understandings that the role of the armed forces is to provide for the external defence of the nation rather than internal law enforcement, and that a soldier trained to use maximum force is not well equipped to handle the individual minimum force demands of policing.²⁵ However, these contentions must be approached from the perspective that the ADF’s involvement in this regard is, rather, a temporary ‘outsourcing’ of these lethal capabilities and that this outsourcing prevents their development and standing deployment in regular police units.

Model 2: Streamlining State-Based Call-Out Procedures

The second model—streamlining state-based call-out procedures—would increase the efficiency with which states could access and use ADF personnel and expertise. Streamlining is clearly possible: Jacinta Carroll notes that a major failing of the NSW Police Force TOU team assigned to respond to the Lindt Café siege was that its leadership was unaware of how to call upon TAG East’s support in the raid.²⁶ ‘Decision-making exercises’ have been proposed to optimise this process so that the ADF can be better involved in comparable future situations,²⁷ although the frequency, consistency and rigour of the training exercises undertaken by any single state are highly unlikely to guarantee it can always meet the standard of decision-making required in the immediacy of a ‘live’ terrorist act.

While likely to be an important component of any holistic policy response to the Lindt Café siege, this model is, by itself, thus not sufficient to ensure that the ADF is called upon in all situations where its expertise might assist state police forces. It accordingly cannot be seen as a practicable standalone option.

Model 3: Pre-emptive Call-Out Agreement with States

The third model—a pre-emptive executive agreement with states—could resolve the legislative and executive hurdles that prevent the ADF from providing immediate assistance to state forces, as in the case of the Lindt Café siege. In essence, each state would sacrifice a degree of autonomy in decision-making and agree to be bound immediately by the decisions of an external decision-maker it does not control that is not beholden to any state’s broader interests. This model could operate with already available resources and would fall within the current law, but would not affect parallel civil call-out procedures, allowing SPG teams to still execute action plans as required. It would, however, mark a structural change in a state’s direct control over the involvement of national forces in civil matters.

That states are not capable of deploying potentially necessary military-level lethal capabilities means that ADF involvement must be, in some situations, unavoidable. (Image courtesy Defence)

Rather than delegating these powers to political officers, this model would benefit most from the input of a non-partisan committee of experts which would be tasked with objectively determining whether military call out was appropriate and proper in response to a particular terrorism threat. Such a committee might resemble, for example, the Australia-New Zealand Counter-Terrorism Committee (ANZCTC), which includes civil state and federal representatives and senior officials from a number of Home Affairs and intelligence agencies, and is currently tasked with ‘providing expert strategic and police advice to heads of government’.²⁸

Importantly, it may be possible for the second and third options to coexist and even be mutually reinforcing. Not only would police SPG teams be better positioned to directly call on ADF expertise and personnel when they deem it operationally necessary (Model 2) but also a parallel call-out procedure determined by an external authority would ensure that the ADF is present in circumstances deemed appropriate by experts (Model 3). In this way, Model 3 acts as a form of safeguard in case state authorities fail to call on the ADF even in situations where the military may be of use.

Defence Amendment (Call Out of the Australian Defence Force) Act 2018

The 2018 Act was introduced to enable more ‘flexible’²⁹ calling out of the ADF—not as a ‘last resort’ option but rather, per section 33(2)(a)(ii), in any situation in which the ADF might ‘enhance the ability of each of those States and Territories to protect Commonwealth interests against domestic violence’.³⁰ It implements a number of practical measures to address concerns raised in the Lindt Café siege Coroner’s report as well as the Commonwealth’s 2016 Review of Defence Support to National Counter- Terrorism Arrangements.³¹

Above all else, the 2018 Act lowers the threshold for military call out at the request of states and territories and expands the potential for pre-authorised or contingent call outs involving states and territories. The 2018 Act also clarifies and expands ADF powers in the case of call out, including powers to search and seize and control movement during an incident,³² and eliminates some causes of operational complexity (as categorised broadly in the Minister’s second reading speech³³). In practice, this ought to allow for the earlier deployment of ADF elements so that civil security units can more readily call upon their expertise to achieve specific tasks beyond civil security units’ level of competency.

Although the legislative arrangements in the 2018 Act broadly align with Model 3 above, the key difference (and likely cause of the Act’s longer term public policy weakness) is that, per section 51V(6), the dominant power to determine if and when the ADF should be involved in matters specifically affecting states’ security ultimately lies in the hands of Commonwealth politicians filling nominated party-political offices, rather than a non-partisan expert entity. These actors are empowered by section 38(3) to make decisions without the need to involve their state-based counterparts only when matters are urgent or expedited, but this is likely to include a large percentage of terrorism threats and incidents of domestic violence, which by their very nature cause fear and disruption because they are immediate and unanticipated.

Two particular issues arise from the 2018 Act.

Issue 1: Politicising the Military

Although the 2018 Act emphasises that ADF elements are under the command of the relevant state police force ‘as far as reasonably practicable’,³⁴ section 36(1)(b) states that the Commonwealth may, when necessary, unilaterally call out the military without consulting state authorities. Even if a call out by one or more ministers is a practical necessity when a threat is imminent, it is conceivable that a series of call outs by officials holding office by virtue of a political process (rather than through security or counter-terrorism expertise) may lead to the military’s involvement being seen as a function of party-political agitation, particularly if the domestic violence in question is political in nature. Furthermore, the ministers authorising ADF involvement will, as Commonwealth ministers, have ultimate responsibility for the operation. This creates an inherent conflict of interest because of the high likelihood of extensive media coverage, especially when it is acknowledged that officials who are seen to handle emergencies well can often gain considerable elector recognition,³⁵ which can translate to party-political and personal gain.

The greatest concern is the wide range of circumstances in which the ADF might be called out, and the risk that legislated process normalises the deployment of the ADF against domestic political actors.³⁶ This potential is hinted at implicitly by section 39(3)(b), for example, which prevents the military being called out in relation to industrial disputes. While the Lindt Café siege is—quite reasonably—the prime model against which to measure the efficacy of such legislation, reasonable concerns have been raised that such an approach might, in time, be politicised and abused.³⁷ One might consider, for example, the concerns of party-political agitation arising from the involvement of France’s military in that country’s response to its civil protests in March 2019.³⁸ The likelihood of those circumstances occurring in Australia may be low, but their impact would be extreme, and one weakness of the 2018 Act appears to be that it has created a pathway for the potential establishment of a form of ‘Praetorian Guard’³⁹ model of military involvement in civil affairs.

Issue 2: Deploying ADF Expertise in Non-Call-Out Situations

Even though the Lindt Café siege response fell within the capacities and jurisdiction of state services⁴⁰ and therefore would probably not have justified national-level ADF call out, the simple integration of military experts in NSW TOU planning (including issues such as appropriate bullet calibre) could well have led to a better outcome. This issue is not entirely addressed in the 2018 Act, which continues to rely on the ADF having been formally called out for it to be positioned to offer its expertise. Although the Act’s parallel call-out procedures ought to increase the likelihood that expert input and risk assessment is available to advise state decision-making or execution, the issue remains that non-experts are often not aware of the potential for, and value of, expert advice. This issue is reinforced by section 40(1)(b), which ensures that ADF personnel and expertise cannot be used by the police unless a member of the civil (police) force specifically requests so. The 2018 Act may therefore not yet have overcome a critical issue observed in the events of the Lindt Café siege: while ADF advisors were present and available, NSW Police TOU commanders were unaware of how to call upon their expertise or support.⁴¹ 

A major hurdle for militarising police forces (the first model) is that section 114 of the Constitution prevents state forces from exercising paramilitary capabilities. (Image courtesy Defence) 

Conclusion and Recommendations

Domestic terrorism threats are evolving worldwide such that civil security forces are regularly facing what have essentially become paramilitary actors. The 2014 Lindt Café siege was Australia’s first encounter with this phenomenon and it is unlikely to be the last. In the wake of the Lindt Café siege, the Coroner’s report affirmed that legislation had to be revised in order to address this new threat, and public debate has increasingly broached the possibility of increasing the role of the ADF in domestic counter-terrorism arrangements, despite the clear challenges this poses to the traditional division of civil and military responsibilities.

The 2018 Act has made important legislative provisions towards expediting the ADF’s involvement in situations where its expertise would be invaluable. However, despite seeking to support the ‘outsourcing’ of military-level lethal capacities of military forces by their civil counterparts, the 2018 Act does not provide optimal policy settings to ensure both that the best respondents are called upon to respond to a nascent terrorist threat and that the foundational legal divide between state and Commonwealth is maintained. It is unlikely that the 2018 Act will be amended in the short term. Its shortcomings could, however, be largely addressed by practical rather than legislative arrangements.

Recommendation 1: Delegating to Experts

The Commonwealth should consider involving all states and territories in a scheme by which the states and territories delegate relevant powers to a standing independent and expert committee, such as the ANZCTC as proposed in Model 3 above, which would be tasked with determining whether military call out was appropriate and proper in response to a particular threat. This delegation would merely be an advisory role, as ministers are not required to consider any external advice when agreement with a state or territory is impracticable. However, the role of such a committee could eventually be codified, particularly if there were adverse public responses to decisions made by ministers without broader consultation.

The practical benefits of this separate group are not only the ready availability of expert advice but also the potential to overcome the perception of any conflict of interest for the ministers involved and the clear statement that the involvement of the military in a state’s or territory’s affairs was guided by expert rather than political considerations. There is no reason to suspect that any minister acting under section 51V(6) would ever do so for an improper motive, but the perception of conflict ought to be avoided. It is arguable that this would be better achieved if there were mechanisms to require independent and expert views to be involved if at all practicable.

Recommendation 2: Improving State Actor Decision-Making

The Commonwealth should consider allocating funding and providing expert training to ensure state forces and decision-makers are aware of the situations in which they may benefit from ADF expertise when threats of terrorism or domestic violence arise. The objective would be to ensure that call-out decisions involving agreement with the states or territories are made by fully informed state (and Commonwealth) officials based on a real-time current awareness of ADF and state capabilities. Empowering state officials in particular would limit the possibility that the Commonwealth would override state primacy by unilaterally determining that its interests are beyond the capacity of state protection.

In this regard, consideration might even be given to embedding ADF advisors within state and territory police command units, so that those units are more aware of the tactical advantages ADF involvement may offer in particular situations. In practice, however, the financial and organisational costs (as well as the potential for perceived military domination of civil security) are likely to make this model less favourable than an approach more simply requiring frequent liaison and exchange of situational expertise.

Endnotes

1. A Smith and A Bergin, 2006, ‘Australian Domestic Security: The Role of Defence’, Strategic Insights 31, Australian Strategic Policy Institute, at: www.aspi.org.au/report/strategic- insights-31-australian-domestic-security-role-defence
    
2. M Batt, ‘Reviewing the ADF’s Role in Domestic Counterterrorism Responses’, The Strategist, Australian Strategic Policy Institute, 2 August 2017, at: www.aspistrategist. org.au/reviewing-adfs-role-domestic-counterterrorism-responses/
    
3. State Coroner of New South Wales, 2017, Inquest into the Deaths Arising from the Lindt Café Siege: Findings and Recommendations, 35, at: www.lindtinquest.justice.nsw.gov.au/ Documents/findings-and-recommendations.pdf
    
4. State Coroner of New South Wales, 2017, 35.
    
5. Parliament of Australia, Defence Amendment (Call Out of the Australian Defence Force) Bill 2018, at: https://parlinfo.aph.gov.au/parlInfo/download/legislation/bills/r6149_a… toc_pdf/18135b01.pdf;fileType=application/pdf
    
6. Australian Government Solicitor, 2010, Australia’s Constitution, 7th edition (Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia), at: www.aph.gov.au/About_Parliament/Senate/Powers_ practice_n_procedures/Constitution.aspx
    
7. Defence Act 1903 (Cth), at: www8.austlii.edu.au/cgibin/viewdb/au/legis/cth/consol_act/ da190356/
    
8. M Bradley, ‘Military Call-Out Power Is Too Important to Get the Wording of an Amendment Wrong’, ABC News, 14 August 2018, at: http://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-08-14/ australian-army-call-out-powers-peter-dutton/10064716
    
9. State Coroner of New South Wales, 2017, 384.
    
10. State Coroner of New South Wales, 2017, 195.
     
11. M Safi, ‘Sydney Siege Inquest: Katrina Dawson Killed by Fragments of Police Bullets— As It Happened’, The Guardian, 29 January 2015, at: www.theguardian.com/australia- news/live/2015/jan/29/sydney-siege-coroners-inquest-rolling-report
     
12. Correspondence between author and senior Special Forces officer, 4 November 2017.
     
13. State Coroner of New South Wales, 2017, 367–368.
     
14. State Coroner of New South Wales, 2017, 118; and correspondence between author and senior Special Forces officer.
     
15. Correspondence between author and senior Special Forces officer.
     
16. ‘State Protection Group’, Australian Police, at: https://www.australianpolice.com.au/state- protection-group-2/
     
17. State Coroner of New South Wales, 2017, 117.
     
18. A Orr, ‘Counter-terrorism “Lawfare” and the ASF’s Covert Security War’, Independent Australia, 30 November 2016, at: independentaustralia.net/politics/politics-display/counter- terrorism-lawfare-and-the-adfs-covert-security-war; and Batt, 2017.
     
19. State Coroner of New South Wales, 2017, 387.
     
20. ‘Should the Australian Defence Force be Deployed in Domestic Terrorism situations?’, Constitution Education Fund Australia, 21 July 2017, at: www.cefa.org.au/ccf/should- australian-defence-force-be-deployed-domestic-terrorism-situations
     
21. State Coroner of New South Wales, 2017, 384.
     
22. A Greene, ‘Latest London Attack Puts Australia’s Military Call Out Powers Back in the Spotlight’, ABC News, 5 June 2017, at: http://www.abc.net.au/news/2017-06-05/defence- figures-say-australia-military-call-out-laws-adequate/8588424
     
23. J Sutton, 2017, ‘The Increasing Convergence of the Role and Function of the ADF and Civil Police’, Australian Defence Force Journal 202: 37–44.
     
24. Joint Standing Committee on Foreign Affairs, Defence and Trade, 2003, Review of the Defence Annual Report 2001–02 (Canberra: Parliament of the Commonwealth of Australia), at: www.aph.gov.au/Parliamentary_Business/Committees/Joint/Completed_Inquir… defence_report2001-2002/report
     
25. H Smith, 1998, ‘The Use of Armed Forces in Law Enforcement: Legal, Constitutional and Political Issues in Australia’, Australian Journal of Political Science 33, no. 2: 219–233; and A Bergin, 1990, ‘Legal Aspects of the Employment of the Australian Defence Force’, in D Ball and C Downes (eds), Security and Defence: Pacific and Global Perspectives (Sydney: Allen & Unwin), 268–290.
     
26. J Carroll, ‘The Lindt Café Siege: Lessons from the Coronial Inquest (Part Two)’, The Strategist, Australian Strategic Policy Institute, 14 June 2017, at: https://www.aspistrategist. org.au/lindt-cafe-siege-lessons-coronial-inquest-part-two/. For an ADF advisor’s perspective on this shortcoming, see State Coroner of New South Wales, 2017, 35.
     
27. Greene, 2017.
     
28. State Coroner of New South Wales, 2017, 106.
     
29. Attorney-General for Australia, transcript of interview, News Breakfast, ABC TV, 28 June 2018, at: https://www.attorneygeneral.gov.au/Media/Pages/abc-news-breakfast-28- june-2018.aspx
     
30. Defence Amendment (Call Out of the Australian Defence Force) Act 2018 (Cth).
     
31. Department of Defence, 2016, Review of Defence Support to National Counter-Terrorism Arrangements (Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia), at: https://defence.com.au/ defence-support-domestic-counter-terrorism-arrangements/
     
32. State Coroner of New South Wales, 2017, 26.
     
33. Parliament of Australia, Defence Amendment (Call Out of the Australian Defence Force) Bill 2018—Second Reading, 28 June 2018, at: https://parlinfo.aph.gov.au/parlInfo/search/ display/display.w3p;query=Id%3A%22chamber%2Fhansardr%2F429b4c41-4a6c-465d- a259-05e8252b994d%2F0025%22
     
34. State Coroner of New South Wales, 2017, 9.
     
35. One might note, for example, Premier Anna Bligh in the 2010–2011 Queensland floods and Rural Fire Service Commissioner Phil Koperberg in the 2001 New South Wales bushfires.
     
36. Greene, 2017.
     
37. See, for example, P Gregoire, ‘Turnbull Green Lights Use of Military to Crush Protests’, The Big Smoke, 21 July 2018, at: https://www.thebigsmoke.com.au/2018/07/21/turnbull- green-lights-use-of-military-to-crush-protests/
     
38. See, for example, A Mazoue, ‘Yellow Vest Protests: Macron’s “Risky” Plan to Put Army on Streets’, France24, 29 March 2019, at: https://www.france24.com/en/20190322-france- macron-risky-plan-army-streets-yellow-vests-protests-sentinelle; and A Lantier, ‘French Army Receives Authorization to Shoot “Yellow Vest” Protesters’, WSWS.org, 23 March 2019, at: https://www.wsws.org/en/articles/2019/03/23/fren-m23.html
     
39. Historically the only military force allowed within the city of Rome.
     
40. State Coroner of New South Wales, 2017, 384.
     
41. Carroll, 2017.