The Chinese military parade that had the world talking last week was more than just pageantry. It was a declaration that Chinese leader Xi Jinping sees himself in a race against time to secure his place in history.

For Xi, who has just turned 72, unification with Taiwan is not just a policy aim; it is the crown jewel that would elevate him above Mao Zedong and cement his reputation as the greatest leader in modern Chinese history.

The timing and staging of the parade underscored this urgency, a showcase of power before an audience of foreign leaders and cameras at a high-stakes anniversary event in Beijing.

Mao, the founder of the People’s Republic of China, unified the country under Communist rule, but left it poor and isolated.

Xi’s mission is to finish the job by formally ending the Chinese civil war that pitted the Communists against the Nationalists and annexing the island of Taiwan to lock in his place in the party pantheon.

But waiting is dangerous. Inside the Chinese Communist Party, loyalty is transactional and rivals constantly watch for weaknesses.

In 2012, for example, Bo Xilai, a rising star and once-close ally of Xi’s, suffered a dramatic and very public downfall. The scandal could easily have consumed Xi, but he turned it into an opportunity, using Bo’s downfall to cement his own rise.

That episode remains a cautionary tale in Beijing’s elite politics: power must never falter; momentum must never slip.

More than a decade later, Xi has removed or sidelined nearly every rival and manoeuvred himself into a third term. However, he still governs with the urgency of someone who knows how quickly fortunes can turn.

US catching up on hypersonic missiles

Abroad, the strategic equation is also changing.

For years, Beijing enjoyed a headstart in hypersonic weapons, anti-ship missiles and industrial production. China’s air and advanced missile defence systems have been designed to threaten US carrier strike groups and complicate allied operations across East and North Asia.

But Washington may soon close the gap. The Pentagon requested nearly US$7 billion (A$10.6 billion) in hypersonic missile program funding in the fiscal year 2024–25, while private firms are accelerating innovation in reusable missile testbeds and propulsion.

The US Navy is repurposing Zumwalt-class destroyers for its Conventional Prompt Strike hypersonic system, giving the navy its first maritime platform capable of hypersonic strike. Sea-based demonstrations of the new system are planned as soon as the program matures.

Every step narrows China’s military advantage.

US shipbuilding looking for revival, too

The industrial rivalry between China and the US is a similar story.

China currently dominates global commercial shipbuilding, a dual-use foundation that also supports naval expansion.

A recent analysis found one Chinese shipbuilder alone built more ships by tonnage in 2024 than the entire US industry has produced since the second world war. Foreign ship orders are underwriting this building capacity, which can rapidly pivot to naval platforms.

This edge has continued in 2025. Xi is counting on this industrial base to give China an edge in a future conflict over Taiwan.

However, US and allied investments in shipbuilding are starting to respond.

The Trump administration has set up a White House office dedicated to fixing US shipbuilding, while the Pentagon has requested US$47 billion (A$71 billion) for Navy ship construction in its annual budget.

Japan and South Korea, both major shipbuilders, have also added significant resources to their shipbuilding capacity in an acknowledgement of the changing power structures in East and North Asia. US politicians recently visited both countries to secure greater assistance in boosting US building capacity, too.

China is also getting older

More urgent still is the demographic clock. China’s population shrank by about two million in 2023, the second straight annual decline, as births fell to nine million, half the 2017 level.

The working-age cohort is shrinking, while the number of people over 60 years old is expected to rise to roughly a third of China’s population by the mid-2030s. This will be a major drag on growth and strain on social systems.

Demography is not destiny, but it compresses timelines for leaders who want to lock in strategic gains.

America’s competitive advantage

There is a final, often overlooked problem. The most efficient political-warfare system of the modern era is capitalism – the engine of competition that rewards adaptation and punishes failure.

The US still possesses a uniquely deep capacity for “creative destruction” – it constantly churns through firms and ideas that power long-term growth and reinvention.

That dynamism is messy, decentralised and often uncomfortable. However, it remains America’s strategic ace: it can retool industries, scale breakthrough technologies and absorb shocks faster than any centrally directed system.

China can imitate many things, but it cannot easily replicate that market-driven ecosystem of risk capital, failure tolerance and rapid reallocation.

All of this explains why Xi wants the world to believe China’s rise is unstoppable and unification with Taiwan is inevitable.

But inevitability is fragile. Beijing’s “win without fighting” approach, which involves grey-zone coercion, economic leverage and an incremental, “salami-slicing” approach to territorial claims in the South China Sea, has worked because it relies on patience and subtlety. The more Xi accelerates, the more he risks miscalculation.

A forced attempt to seize Taiwan would be the most dangerous gamble of his rule. If the People’s Liberation Army falters, the consequences would be severe: strategic humiliation abroad, political turbulence at home, and a punctured narrative of inevitability that sustains party authority.

Sun Tzu’s greatest victory is the one won without fighting, but only when time favours patience. For Xi Jinping, time is not on his side.

Ian Langford, Executive Director, Security & Defence PLuS and Professor, UNSW Sydney

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Erin Patterson, having been convicted in the Supreme Court of Victoria two months ago on three counts of murder and one count of attempted murder, has today received a life sentence from the trial judge, Justice Christopher Beale.

He ordered a non-parole period of 33 years. Given her age (50) and the 676 days she’s already spent in detention, this means Patterson will not be eligible to apply for parole until 2056, when she is in her 80s.

Erin Patterson’s story is now one of the most well-known true crime cases in Australia. Nine weeks ago, a jury found her guilty of poisoning her lunch guests in July 2023 at her home in Leongatha with foraged death-cap mushrooms she had baked into individual servings of Beef Wellington.

In sentencing, Justice Beale said he had no hesitation in finding Patterson’s offending falls into the “worst category” of murder and attempted murder.

So after months of media frenzy and myriad headlines, the sentencing now bookends the case, pending any appeal. Here’s how the judge reached his decision and what happens now.

A lengthy prison term

The life sentence was as expected, given Patterson’s lawyer, Colin Mandy, did not oppose the prosecution’s bid for the maximum sentence for murder in Victoria.

The matter that exercised the judge’s mind, principally, in considering the sentence was the length of the non-parole period. The standard such period for murder in Victoria is 20 years.

If there’s more than one victim, however, the minimum non-parole period increases to 25 years.

While it’s possible to sentence a murderer to life without parole, it is very unusual.

In 2019, the judge who gave a life sentence to James Gargasoulas, the man who drove down Bourke Street Mall in Melbourne, killing six people, set a non-parole period of 46 years.

What did the judge consider?

The factors taken into account in sentencing relate to the nature of the crime and the personal circumstances of the person convicted.

The final outcome is informed by principles that vary only slightly across Australia’s states and territories.

The main one here, arguably, was denunciation: the sentence needs to reinforce in the public mind the abhorrence of her conduct.

Indeed, there was no plea of guilty, and no remorse from Patterson at any time.

Moreover, when considering a non-parole period, a judge takes into account what is referred to as “proportionality”. This can be a limiting feature where there is lesser culpability, but an exacerbating feature where there are multiple deaths.

One might refer to it colloquially as a person receiving their “just deserts”.

In this instance, the judge was mindful of the fact there were four victims.

He was also mindful of Patterson’s “harsh” prison conditions, telling the court:

you have effectively been held in continuous solitary confinement for the last 15 months and at the very least there is a substantial chance that for your protection you will continue to be held in solitary confinement for years to come.

Deterrence, as a regular feature of the sentencing exercise, in this case becomes a companion to denunciation.

Rehabilitation was always unlikely to have any impact on the sentence, given the life term. There was no submission by defence counsel that his client had a diagnosed mental disorder or would benefit from any form of an ongoing remediation or restorative program.

Huge personal tolls

What dominated the submissions at the pre-sentence hearing in August were the victim impact statements.

In Victoria, such statements have been in place since 1994, but it has only been since 2005 that the court has been required to take account of the impact of the crime on any victim when sentencing.

Only since 2011 have victims been granted the right to read a statement aloud in court or have a nominated representative do so on their behalf.

In the Patterson pre-sentence hearing, the sole survivor of the meal, Ian Wilkinson, read his own statement and described the loss of his wife Heather. He said he felt “only half alive without her”.

Patterson’s estranged husband Simon did not attend the pre-sentence hearing, so his statement was read to the judge by a family member. His children, he wrote:

have […] been robbed of hope for the kind of relationship with their mother that every child naturally yearns for.

The Wilkinsons’ daughter, Ruth Dubois, also addressed the judge with her own statement. She highlighted the wider victims of the crimes, namely medical staff, investigators, shop owners (who had had their names scrutinised), mushroom growers, the health department and taxpayers.

“I am horrified,” she said, “that our family is even associated, through no choice of our own, with such destructive behaviour towards the community”.

Will there be an appeal?

Patterson’s counsel has 28 days in which to appeal. An appeal would either be against conviction or the sentence or both.

In relation to an appeal against conviction, defence counsel would need to establish that the trial judge made a mistake in admitting (or ruling out) certain evidence or failing to properly explain the defence case.

The former, a mistake about evidence, is the more common appeal ground.

Less likely is the latter appeal ground because it would be difficult for defence counsel to assert that his client’s case was given too little regard by the judge, given the amount of time (almost two days) Justice Beale devoted to explaining the defence case to the jury.

When appealing the length of the non-parole period, either counsel can argue the duration was either manifestly inadequate (a prosecution submission) or manifestly excessive (a defence submission). It remains to be seen if either side will pursue this option.

Whatever the case, there would not be too many observers surprised by the judge’s final determination.

Rick Sarre, Emeritus Professor in Law and Criminal Justice, University of South Australia and Ben Livings, Associate Professor in Criminal Law and Evidence, University of South Australia

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Julian Koplin, Monash University

What do world leaders talk about when they think we’re not listening? This week it was the idea of living forever.

Russian president Vladimir Putin and his Chinese counterpart Xi Jinping were caught off-guard at a military parade in Beijing discussing the possibility of using biotechnology to pursue immortality. In particular, Putin suggested repeated organ transplants could keep a person young forever.

There’s a lot to unpack here. The idea of lifespan extension is less outlandish, and less objectionable, than it might seem. But as a bioethicist, I do have some concerns.

Could transplants allow us to live forever?

Putin’s suggestion that we can achieve immortality via repeated organ transplants is almost certainly false.

One obvious question is where these organs would come from. Transplantable organs are a scarce medical resource. Using them to sustain the life of an ageing autocrat would deprive others of life-saving transplants.

However, Putin may have been envisaging lab-grown organs created using stem cells. This approach would not deprive others of transplants.

Unfortunately for Putin, while scientists can grow miniature “organoids” that model some aspects of human tissues, creating full-size transplantable organs remains far beyond current capabilities.

Even if, hypothetically, we had access to limitless replacement organs, ageing erodes our body’s general resilience. This would make recovering from repeated transplant surgeries – which are significant operations – increasingly unlikely.

Our ageing brains present an even deeper obstacle. We can replace a kidney or a liver without any threat to our identity. But we cannot replace our brains; whoever inhabits our bodies after a brain transplant would not be us.

Other approaches

There may be better routes to increasing longevity.

Scientists have prolonged the lives of laboratory animals such as monkeys, mice and fruit flies through drugs, genetic alterations, dietary changes and cellular reprogramming (which involves reverting some of the body’s cells to a “younger”, more primitive state).

It’s always challenging to translate animal studies to humans. But nothing suggests human ageing is uniquely beyond modification.

In 2024, Putin launched a national project to combat ageing. Could Russia deliver the necessary scientific breakthrough?

Perhaps, though many experts are doubtful, given Russia’s fragile research infrastructure.

But Putin is not alone in funding longevity research. Breakthroughs might come from elsewhere – including, potentially, from major investments in anti-ageing biotechnologies from billionaires in the West.

Anti-ageing research could bring benefits

Whether they are authoritarian presidents or Silicon Valley billionaires, it’s easy to sneer at wealthy elites’ preoccupation with lifespan extension.

Death is the great leveller; it comes for us all. We understandably distrust those who want to rise above it.

But we need to disentangle motives and ethics. It is possible to pursue worthwhile projects for bad reasons.

For example, if I donate to an anti-malaria charity merely to impress my Tinder date, you might roll your eyes at my motivations. But the donation itself still achieves good.

The same applies to lifespan extension.

Anti-ageing research could have many benefits. Because ageing raises the risk of almost every major disease, slowing it could make people healthier at every age.

If we value preventing diseases such as heart disease, cancer and dementia, we should welcome research into slowing ageing (which could in turn help to reduce these problems).

Is seeking longer lives ethical?

Putin and Xi might seem less concerned with improving population health than with postponing their own deaths. But is it wrong to want longevity?

Many of us dread death – this is normal and understandable. Death deprives us of all the goods of life, while the prospect of dying can be frightening.

Nor is it suspect to want more than a “natural” lifespan. Since 1900, life expectancy in wealthy countries has risen by more than 30 years. We should welcome further improvements.

The most serious ethical concern about lifespan extension is that it will result in social stagnation.

Our views become increasingly rigid as we age. Young minds often bring new ideas.

If Taylor Swift is still topping the charts in 2089, many other musicians will miss out. And we will miss out on enjoying the evolution of pop music.

Music is one thing; morals are another. The 21st century is raising many new challenges – such as climate change and AI developments – that may benefit from fresh moral perspectives, and from the turnover of political power.

A Russia still ruled by Putin in 2150 will strike many as the starkest version of this worry. Fortunately, we need not be too concerned about a 200-year-old Putin. He is no longer young, and significant lifespan extension is probably decades away.

Still, the prospect of ageless autocrats should give us pause. We should welcome technologies that slow ageing and help us stay healthier for longer, while remembering that even good technologies can have bad effects.

If we succeed in dramatically extending lifespans, we will need to work out how to prevent our societies from becoming as static as some of the elites who lead them.

Julian Koplin, Lecturer in Bioethics, Monash University & Honorary fellow, Melbourne Law School, Monash University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.