Patriot Realm

It began, as such stories often do, in silence and snow.

Kananaskis, Alberta -  a remote and breathtaking stretch of mountain wilderness -  first entered global consciousness in 2002. Then, in the wake of 9/11, the world’s most powerful leaders gathered not in a grand capital or gleaming conference hall, but in a secluded Canadian resort, miles from anywhere and accessible only by a handful of roads.

It was a strange choice, at least on the surface. The G8 -  the United States, United Kingdom, France, Germany, Italy, Canada, and Japan and Russia -  had never before met in such isolation. But in a world freshly rattled by terrorism, where the ground still shook from the collapse of towers in New York and the bombs of Afghanistan, Kananaskis offered what the moment demanded: control.

Control over the space, the narrative, the risks. The G8 met beneath the mountains not only to keep people out .... but, in some subtle and unspoken way, to keep people in. In a world slipping toward something more dangerous, it was a fortress disguised as a retreat.

Fast-forward twenty-three years, and the G7 has returned to Kananaskis, minus Russia. ( membership was suspended in 2014 following the annexation of Crimea, which is when the group reverted to being called the G7. )

Only this time, the stakes are even higher. The atmosphere is not one of aftermath but anticipation -  of something coming. Something imminent.

The guest list has changed too.

 A Wartime Guest List

In 2025, the world looks unnervingly familiar -  yet more volatile. The UN is fracturing, NATO is under strain, Russia remains entrenched in Ukraine, and China looms large over the Indo-Pacific. Diplomacy is brittle. Sanctions bite but do not break. And war, long talked around,  is now increasingly spoken of aloud.

This year, the G7 meeting in Kananaskis includes a guest not formally part of the club: Australia.

It’s a striking development. The G7 is, in name, an economic forum:  a council of the wealthiest liberal democracies. Australia is wealthy, yes, and democratic,  but it has never been at the table before.

Why now?

Because the G7 is evolving. Its purpose, once rooted in finance and development, has shifted toward strategic alignment in an era of ideological and military confrontation. This is no longer just about trade. It’s about defense infrastructure, cyber warfare, intelligence sharing, and coordinated military readiness.

The 2025 guest list reflects this transformation. It is, for all intents and purposes, a wartime council. And Australia .... once a middle power on the edge of the world ... has become central.

Herein lies the tension. Australia’s inclusion is not ceremonial. It is functional. Tactical. Essential.

And yet… can Australia be trusted?

This is the unspoken question hanging over the snow-laced ridges of Kananaskis.

To the Americans, British, and Canadians, Australia is a cornerstone of their Pacific strategy. Through the AUKUS pact, Australia is developing nuclear submarines, hosting rotating allied forces, and serving as a bulwark against Chinese expansion.

But beneath the surface, contradictions churn.

Australia is:

• Economically entwined with China,  its largest trading partner.

• Home to rising anti-Israel sentiment.

• Culturally fractured, with growing divides between its strategic obligations and its domestic ideological drift. Old Australia is not happy with the influx of people who do not value Aussie ways. 

 And yet, it hosts some of the most sensitive Western military and intelligence infrastructure in the world:

• Pine Gap: The joint U.S.-Australian signals intelligence base near Alice Springs, critical for missile detection and satellite surveillance.

• Woomera: One of the world’s largest weapons testing ranges.

• Kabarlah: A node of cyber and electronic warfare capacity.

If trust falters -  if political winds in Canberra shift too far -  these assets could become vulnerabilities. A keystone that cracks brings down the entire arch.

The Kananaskis summit, then, is not just a meeting .... it is a litmus test. Of alliances. Of commitments. Of truths.

And at the heart of it all are a series of questions:

• Why Kananaskis? Why return to this remote, isolated fortress? Is it to protect against outside threats.... or to shield decisions from public view?

• Why invite Australia now? Is it for its loyalty,  or to test it?

• Is the West preparing for a war already begun in fragments? And if so, how solid is the ground beneath its feet?

• What happens if Australia wavers -  or chooses economic appeasement over strategic alignment?

• Can a nation serve two masters: China by trade, and the U.S. by treaty?

And most importantly:

Is Australia truly at the table… or already halfway out the door?

As history converges with the present at an alarming rate of knots, Australia stands at the front. Its next decisions will not be made in isolation,  and they will not go unnoticed.

One path leads to resolve: Australia reaffirms its alliances, hardens its stance, and becomes not just a guest, but a pillar in the defense of the liberal order.

Another path leads to drift: Drawn by trade, swayed by sentiment, Australia begins to slip from the strategic spine ... forcing its allies to question access, trust, and continuity.

And the third path -  the one history warns of.... is ambiguity:

Where Australia tries to play both sides, only to be trusted by neither and used by both.

The great irony is this: Australia, once thought too small or distant to matter, now holds disproportionate weight. It is the keystone -  geographically, strategically, and morally.

What it chooses next will not just shape its own future, but may very well influence the direction OF the future. 

So I ask again:

Whose table is this really? Whose war? And when the summit ends, who walks back down the mountain -  and who disappears into the snow?