When China’s state media proudly unveiled a new undersea cable cutter in March this year — a saw designed to attach to the Fendouzhe deep-sea submersible — it set off a predictable chain reaction: alarm bells in Washington, cautious statements in Taipei, and a flurry of headlines warning of a potential “reset” in the global order.
Capable of slicing through reinforced undersea telecommunications cables at depths reaching 4,000 metres, the cable cutter was framed as a disruptive breakthrough in China’s arsenal of grey-zone warfare tools. In a world where 95 per cent of global internet traffic travels via subsea cables, even the possibility of deliberate sabotage stirs unease.
But as experts are quick to point out — the technology is not as revolutionary as it seems.
“Honestly, it’s not super high-tech,” says Erin Murphy, deputy director at the Centre for Strategic and International Studies.
“Dragging an anchor could damage cables. Ships already have the equipment. If a country really wanted to sabotage cables, it wouldn’t take much.”
Indeed, below 1,500 metres, most submarine cables are not even armoured — rendering the need for an ultra-powerful cutter somewhat moot. Damage evidence in Taiwan — including suspicious zigzagging patterns across the seabed — already suggests that cable sabotage is achievable with relatively basic methods.
Yet Beijing’s move isn’t just about practicality — it’s about theatre.
“This is hybrid psychological warfare,” says Cynthia Mehboob, an analyst at the Australian Strategic Policy Institute.
“By publicising the cable cutter, China signals both capability and intent — while reinforcing a broader narrative: that Western infrastructure is crumbling, and China stands ready with superior alternatives.”
It’s a carrot-and-stick approach, and the stick is made of steel and operates at 4,000 metres below the surface.
Undersea cables are the often-forgotten arteries of the global economy. They connect markets, governments, and militaries. Severing them — even temporarily — could isolate entire nations during conflict or crisis.
This reality has already played out in microcosm in Taiwan, where cable cuts since 2019 have raised suspicions of deliberate Chinese interference. Now, with the new cutter on display, the message is clear: in a crisis, China’s reach could extend far beyond airspace and into the ocean’s depths.
But beneath this messaging war, a subtler threat is rising — and it may prove even more dangerous in the long term.
While cable cutting captures headlines, seabed mining quietly creeps forward.
In February, the Cook Islands signed a deal granting Chinese firms the right to explore — and potentially extract — critical minerals from the ocean floor.
“If you start having trade wars, suddenly the seabed floor becomes another arena for competition,” Murphy warns.
Mining operations can damage cables — sometimes accidentally, sometimes not. And because no strong international regulatory framework exists, attributing blame remains murky.
Was it sabotage? An accident? A ‘routine mining operation’ gone wrong?
The legal ambiguity suits a geopolitical chessboard where plausible deniability is a valuable currency.
Australia — alongside Singapore and the United States — maintains one of the most robust cable-monitoring regimes in the world.
Permitting systems allow for relatively rapid cable repairs, keeping critical communications flowing even in the face of disruption.
But the game is evolving.
Experts warn that Australia must not only focus on monitoring and repairing cables — it must also push for stronger regional frameworks to handle seabed disputes.
“When a cable is cut today, everyone points fingers but no one takes responsibility,” Mehboob notes.
“Increasingly, we need region-specific agreements to prevent the seabed from becoming a geopolitical Wild West.”
China’s cable cutter is real — but its greatest strength may not lie in its blades.
It lies in the story it tells:
In the next decade, the real wars may not be fought only in cyberspace, or over islands and airstrips.
They will be fought beneath the surface, along the quiet tangle of cables that hold the modern world together.
The question is whether the world is ready to defend them.