The irony of independence 

Two hundred and fifty years ago, a group of colonies chose defiance over accommodation. They were weaker, dependent and vulnerable, yet they resisted the authority of the most powerful empire of their time. In doing so, they shaped a new world order. 

The Declaration of Independence signified the rejection of a system that did not align with the values of the 13 colonies. It rejected the assumption that power alone conferred authority, asserting instead that political legitimacy flowed from consent. It challenged empire not only with force, but with principle.

Seen through a modern lens, the Declaration was an early example of the rise of middle powers during a period of systemic rupture. The colonies understood the imbalance they faced, but they also recognised that the existing order no longer commanded legitimacy in an ever-evolving world. They acted not in anticipation of a smoother transition, but in recognition that the old system was already failing their interests.

The irony of history is difficult to ignore. 

The state born from that rupture of the existing world order would itself become a dominant power, capable of shaping outcomes through economic weight, strategic leverage, and institutional influence. Power is more than material strength. It also resides in ideas, in legitimacy, and in the willingness to resist what exists in order to shape what will be. 

Power, like freedom, carries responsibility. The enduring relevance of the Declaration lies not in denying the realities of power, but in reminding us that legitimacy matters, values matter, and that any order built solely on brute strength is ultimately fragile.

As Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney stated: “… we are living through a rupture, not a transition.” The comfortable assumption that a stable, rules-based system will naturally reassert itself is giving way to a harsher reality, one in which power is exercised with fewer constraints, and a world in which economic integration is increasingly being used transactionally rather than relationally. In such a world, middle powers face a choice. They can acquiesce quietly, retreat inward, or act collectively to help shape something better.

This speaks directly to Australia’s position.  Australia must face reality, protect its interests and shape a system built on its own values. We should not bend to the will of greater powers, nor accept accommodation for stability. Sovereignty means the capacity to decide where we stand, how we act, and with whom we align. That requires self-assured confidence and consistency.

It also requires genuine relationships. In a fractured world, strength increasingly comes from cooperation amongst states that respect one another and share fundamental beliefs. Australia’s mission is to ensure it’s not left dancing by itself once the music stops.  

We need to build and deepen partnerships with those willing to uphold shared values and mutual respect.

Carney’s message is one of honesty: Middle powers must stop pretending that old systems still function as they did. They must stop embodying sovereignty while quietly accepting subordination. 

To build on Carney’s words, we do have a choice. We can accept the status quo and be lulled into a false sense of security, based on nostalgia – or we can take deliberate steps to help shape a world that reflects our values.

The Declaration of Independence reminds us that world orders do not change because the established order permits them to. They change because actors insist on principles, accept the cost of asserting them, and work together to make those principles real.

The irony of the present moment is a reminder that the future does not simply arrive; it is made. The question before us is whether we are seduced by nostalgia, and sit by accepting  a world order in rupture, or whether we choose, as a nation, to help forge one worthy of the future we seek.

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