South Korea, Canada, and a middle-power submarine: Can Australia Join?

Sometimes, middle power enthusiasts get overly excited about the potential for said states to work together. It’s almost as if you want to see those “little guys” grab the ball and run it all the way to the try line — or the end zone, for you Americans. Like there’s a third way that allows smaller states, just by cooperation, to escape the great powers and their over-sized buffoonery.

The latest one I heard was the hope for submarine cooperation between South Korea, Canada… and Australia.

Canada’s next-generation submarine program is quietly taking shape — and South Korea’s Hanwha Ocean is in on the shortlist. Ottawa’s Canadian Patrol Submarine Project (CPSP) aims to acquire up to a dozen long-range, under-ice capable conventional submarines by the mid-2030s. It’s a major, middle-power purchase designed to replace Canada’s aging Victoria-class fleet and preserve sovereign control over undersea deterrence.

Hanwha’s proposal — based on its advanced KSS-III design — is no speculative gesture. The KSS-III is a good boat and some say, well suited to Australia’s needs as much as Canada’s. It reflects Korea’s growing ambition to become a global defence exporter and a partner of choice for other middle powers that need capability without surrendering autonomy.

Hanwha’s offer is tailored for Canada’s geography: long endurance, advanced sensors, heavy payloads, and the ability to operate beneath Arctic ice. It’s a pragmatic design, delivered on an ambitious but credible timeline.

South Korea’s bid for Canada’s submarine project raises a provocative question for Australia: if Canada and Korea can build a modern, sovereign, conventional submarine fleet together, why can’t we get in on it too?

While Canada and Korea quietly get on with business, Australia’s AUKUS submarine plan looks more like a submissive slow-motion sovereignty swap without the submarines. So, not really a swap. Just a submission.

Under AUKUS, Australia is meant to acquire U.S. or U.K. nuclear-powered submarines (SSNs) sometime in the 2040s. But that timeline depends on two fragile assumptions: that the United States and the United Kingdom will produce enough submarines for themselves first, and that Australia will be able to absorb the technology, infrastructure, and governance burden of nuclear propulsion. So far, neither looks remotely certain.

American yards are already overstretched producing their own Virginia-class boats, and the British Astute line is at capacity. Even optimistic forecasts put Australia’s first nuclear submarine a generation away.

Meanwhile, Canberra is being asked to legislate nuclear stewardship, manage radioactive waste, and adapt its defence strategy to a fleet that doesn’t yet exist. The price tag is staggering — well over $300 billion — and the payoff uncertain. More troubling is the strategic dependency baked into the deal: Australia’s future fleet will be reliant on foreign reactors, foreign supply chains, and foreign training pipelines.

This is not a partnership. It’s procurement dependency masquerading as strategic modernization. AUKUS may deepen alliance interoperability, but it also locks Australia into U.S. and U.K. production schedules, export controls, and operational expectations. It’s a sovereignty overhang that no number of patriotic speeches can disguise. The fundamental question is not whether the alliance should deepen — it’s whether Australia can retain control of its defence decisions while doing so.

Which is why the Korean-Canadian initiative should make Canberra pause. Here are two middle powers — democratic, maritime, and allied — building serious undersea capability without sacrificing control.

South Korea brings cutting-edge shipbuilding and propulsion systems; Canada brings cold-water operational requirements and an established industrial base. Both share the same dilemma as Australia: a need for credible deterrence in an era when alliance guarantees look conditional. Yet they are solving it in their own way, not waiting for Washington or London to deliver salvation.

Imagine a trilateral path instead — Australia, Canada, and South Korea pooling demand, aligning design requirements, and building a shared family of advanced conventional submarines. It’s not a fantasy. All three nations need endurance, stealth, and strike options suited to their geographies. All three have compatible defence industries and a commitment to transparent governance. Such collaboration could yield a design tailored to middle-power realities: affordable, exportable, and sovereign.

The benefits are obvious. Shared production keeps shipyards active and costs down through volume. Joint research sustains innovation in sensors, propulsion, and energy systems. Common training and maintenance create interoperability without dependency. And each country retains final say over its own deployment, doctrine, and upgrades. Unlike AUKUS, which hands over design authority to the great powers, a middle-power submarine consortium would represent genuine strategic agency.

Some will argue that only nuclear propulsion can guarantee range and deterrence. But modern conventional submarines with air-independent propulsion (AIP) and advanced lithium-ion batteries are already closing the gap. They can remain submerged for weeks, carry cruise missiles, and operate quietly in littoral and open-ocean environments alike. They also avoid the massive political and environmental overhead of nuclear technology. For most regional missions — including those Australia faces — a highly capable conventional submarine fleet would do the job with far less strategic risk.

More importantly, it would signal a new direction for the Indo-Pacific’s middle powers. Australia, Canada, and South Korea all face the same strategic squeeze — caught between alliance obligations and national autonomy, between the need for capability and the need for control.

By working together, they could chart a third way: self-reliant, collaborative, and regionally focused. This would not weaken alliances; it would make them more balanced and resilient. It would also demonstrate that small and mid-tier democracies can take initiative rather than waiting for Washington to decide what “security” means for them.

For Australia, joining such a venture would not mean abandoning AUKUS entirely. Pillar II — which focuses on advanced technologies such as quantum, cyber, and AI — remains valuable. But the submarine component should be reconsidered. Canberra could diversify its approach: stay plugged into allied innovation networks while pursuing a tangible, near-term submarine solution with Korea and Canada. That would deliver boats sooner, sustain domestic industry, and restore an element of choice to Australia’s defence posture.

The Canadian submarine project and Korea’s bid are not just about steel and sensors. They’re about strategic maturity — about nations that have outgrown the idea that security must be subcontracted to great powers. For Australia, this is a chance to rediscover what middle-power leadership actually looks like: practical, sovereign, and cooperative.

So, can Australia get in on this? Probably not. Because it’s credible and achievable, if the idea were raised by any serious commentator, they’d have more manure piled on their front lawn by Australia’s US-backed think tanks than a French politician proposing an end to dairy subsidies.

Instead of waiting decades for someone else’s nuclear dream to materialize and then probably just sending our trained submariners to work on someone else’s subs, Australia could join Canada and Korea in building something tangible, sovereign, and smart — but that’d probably be too logical.

Sometimes middle-power enthusiasts do get carried away, dreaming of the “little guys” charging downfield and scoring one for sovereignty. Maybe it sounds naïve — but every so often the play is open, the ball is loose, and the try line is clear. Canada and Korea are already running it. Australia could too — if it just decided to run on the field.