The sanitisation of war and the human cost of the Land Forces expo

Without significant changes in how the country views defence and warfare, Australia will find itself increasingly entangled in the very conflicts it claims it wants to avoid.

The recent Land Forces exposition held in Melbourne is yet another troubling mix of commerce, militarisation, and violence, and its existence provokes deep ethical questions that should concern many Australians. As an international military conference, the expo is not only a display of technological innovation but a marketplace where global arms manufacturers peddle tools of destruction to government representatives who, in turn, defend the rights of these manufacturers to display their killing field machines. It’s an event that offers no public transparency, operating in a sphere of selective admission – not open to the general public – where those with power, broker deals in the shadow of secrecy.

The protests that erupted in opposition to Land Forces were a direct response to the moral and human costs that arise from such an event, where around 2,000 people, backed by nearly 50 activist organisations, unified under the “Disrupt Land Forces” banner to challenge the ethics of such a gathering. Their concerns are valid and pointed, focusing not only on the immediate harms of militarised violence but also on the broader, systemic impact that the global arms trade has on civilian populations. These weapons, flaunted for their precision and lethal value, often find their first real-world applications in conflicts involving civilians – Gaza, Yemen, Sudan, Ukraine, and many other active conflicts around the world. Such locations have become testing grounds for weaponry that, after proving its efficiency in destruction, is marketed to governments eager to bolster their military capabilities.

The moral contradiction at the heart of the global arms trade is difficult to ignore. On one hand, there is the recognition by many sociologists and peace advocates that conflict is a perennial part of the human condition, and as such, the goal should be to minimise violence and end conflict swiftly when it does arise. On the other hand, the arms trade flourishes in direct opposition to this ideal, driven by a pursuit of profit that thrives on the continuation, and often the escalation, of war. The United States, which holds a 40 per cent share of the global arms market, is the epitome of this paradox: while there is widespread acknowledgment that the world should be moving toward peace, the economic interests tied to the production and sale of weapons continue to fuel global instability.

For the protestors, it is especially galling that such an expo takes place in Australia, a country that, while geographically distant from many of the world’s major conflicts, plays an increasing role in the global arms trade. The question arises: who is this expo really for? The Australian military knows what it needs and already has access to the global arms market through existing channels – in an age where information and trade can be conducted over the internet, the rationale for a physical gathering of this kind is tenuous.

The ethical implications become even more pronounced when we consider the nature of the protests themselves. The clashes between demonstrators and police, which have involved the use of tear gas, pepper spray, foam bullets and, in response, acid being thrown at law enforcement, highlight the extent to which these concerns have polarised communities. While such violence is regrettable, it also highlights the desperation felt by those who oppose the militarisation of society. The use of weapons designed to subdue protestors, whether tear gas or rubber bullets, is a reminder of the very industry that the expo represents – an industry that profits from control, domination, and, ultimately, the suppression of dissent.

Land Forces may seem like a niche event, but its broader implications can’t be ignored. It is a symbol of a global arms trade that prioritises profit over human life, exacerbates conflicts rather than resolves them, and tests its deadly wares on the world’s most vulnerable populations. As such, it is no surprise that the expo is met with such fierce resistance, nor is it surprising that these protests sometimes escalate into violence. In a world where weapons of war are treated as commodities, the lines between defence and aggression, between peacekeeping and warmongering, are increasingly blurred. It is a dynamic that will continue to provoke protest, and justifiably so, as long as the global arms trade remains as profitable, perverse and pervasive as it is today.

Australia’s role in the global arms trade

The sanitisation of warfare through slick, polished events is a disturbing trend that disconnects the public from the brutal realities of modern conflict. Inside the expo’s pristine conference rooms and exhibition halls, weapons of war are displayed not as instruments of death, but as technological marvels – gleaming, advanced, and indispensable, and there is a dissonance between the sterile, commercialised environment of the trade show and the devastation these weapons cause. These tools of destruction are showcased as feats of human ingenuity, but they are designed to kill, often indiscriminately, and their most common victims are civilians – women, children, and the elderly – whose lives and communities are irrevocably shattered.

This sanitisation is not unique to Land Forces – similar events take place globally, making the militarisation of society appear normal. Certainly, warfare today no longer looks like the historic battles of Gallipoli or World War II, where soldiers fought face-to-face on defined battlefields: it has evolved into a state where unmanned drones, autonomous weapons systems, and long-range missiles can obliterate targets thousands of miles away with the push of a button, often hitting civilian populations and critical infrastructure.

A common refrain, echoed by proponents of the military industry, is that it’s not weapons that kill people, but the humans who deploy them, an argument which mirrors the rhetoric of the destructive U.S. gun lobby, where firearms are presented as neutral tools, with the responsibility for violence placed solely on the individuals wielding them. However, this reasoning is simplistic and fails to account for the immense social, political, and economic structures that make warfare profitable and perpetual. Arms manufacturers are not passive actors in global conflict; they actively lobby governments, exploit geopolitical tensions, and provide the tools that fuel wars. It is naïve to suggest that these actors simply exist to respond to a dangerous world when they, in fact, are deeply involved in creating and sustaining that danger.

Australia, though often perceived as playing a minor role in global conflicts, is more deeply entrenched in the arms trade than it publicly acknowledges. The country has aligned itself with major global powers through agreements like AUKUS and controversial military installations like Pine Gap, which plays a crucial role in U.S. military operations. The presence of Israeli defence companies at Land Forces is a reminder of how closely Australia’s arms trade is linked to global human rights abuses. These companies tout their weapons as “battle-tested” but fail to mention that this “experience” comes from decades of military operations in Palestine, where civilians have borne the brunt of Israeli military aggression, especially over the past year in Gaza. For Australia to buy into this narrative without questioning the ethical implications of supporting such industries – and actually using special Victoria riot police forces to enforce this narrative – is deeply troubling.

This move toward a more prominent role in the global arms market can be traced back to former Defence Minister Christopher Pyne, who in 2017 expressed his desire for Australia to become a top-ten international arms producer. This ambition signals a shift in Australia’s identity – moving from a nation that has historically focused on regional peacekeeping and defence to one that seeks profit in the global arms race. Australians would likely be shocked if they fully understood the extent of their country’s involvement in the arms trade, the nations receiving these weapons, and the atrocities that are committed by using these arms. Much of this information flies under the radar, hidden from public scrutiny, leaving citizens in the dark about how deeply their country is enmeshed in an industry that profits from global instability.

While it is true that a defence force is necessary for most countries, and that military personnel often play critical roles in disaster relief and humanitarian efforts, this does not justify the normalisation of the arms trade or the glamorisation of military technology. The defence of a nation should not be conflated with the uncritical acceptance of an industry that profits from war. The display of military hardware at events like the Land Forces Expo serves no real defence purpose but rather feeds into a culture of militarisation that seeks to make war palatable, even desirable, under the guise of security and technological advancement.

What Australia truly needs is a more mature and thoughtful approach to defence – one that prioritises diplomacy, peace-building, and conflict resolution over the pursuit of profit through the arms trade. As the world evolves and new security challenges emerge, it is important that Australia rethinks its approach to military engagement. War in the 21st century does not resemble the conflicts of the past, and our understanding of what it means to defend a nation must adapt accordingly. Rather than showcasing military might and buying into the arms race, Australia should be leading efforts to promote peace and stability, using its influence to reduce global conflict rather than exacerbate it.

Failing to reassess these priorities risks leaving Australia trapped in a cycle of militarisation, where economic interests in the arms trade take precedence over the moral imperative to pursue peace. Without significant changes in how the country views defence and warfare, Australia may find itself increasingly entangled in the very conflicts it claims it wants to avoid.