It’s 10.35am and I’m on the third floor of Perth Convention Centre waiting for coffee after a couple of laps of the place and a short talk by Toll about Supply Chain Optimisation as a Weapon. I’m standing next to a small coffee stand, sponsored by Australian National University. It’s taking a while, but the stand offers some refuge from the constant flow of human traffic. Around me, there are lots of people wearing disruptive patterns and service dress of different nationalities, units and branches.

I’m hoping to get the coffee and hustle to the Danish Delegation’s event on the ground floor. It’s about 700 metres across the convention centre, according to the Land Forces 2026 app. The event starts at 12pm. This is the first day of Land Forces, the international defence exposition. Held every two years, rotating between Australian cities.

Getting in involved passing through two checkpoints. The first at the top of the steps outside, to enter the courtyard. Entering the building, there was another checkpoint and a bag check. I walked up to the bag check and dropped my bag open onto the table.

The security guard glanced in. “Anything good?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

“What’cha’ chasin’?” involuntarily slipped out. She chuckled and, thanks to my media pass, waved me in.

Outside, police vans filled a side street. WA Police were given $11.5 million and temporary powers to ban people from the venue and its surrounds. The State Government won’t say what the event costs taxpayers, citing commercial-in-confidence agreements.

A US flag hangs at one entrance. The surveillance atmosphere at the Expo is strong. I felt watched. Around the Lockheed Martin and Elbit stands, men with earpieces stood in a grid formation around the booths. Badges in US colours hung from their belts, next to holstered handguns.

The coffee queue won. I missed the Danish event and ended up listening to Cellebrite instead. A talk about The AI Revolution. The events are like TED Talks, except the slides are made by Claude, and you have to wear light-up headphones like you would for a silent disco.

Before leaving, I passed Plasan, an Israeli armour maker owned by Kibbutz Sasa, under a sign reading “Australian made survivability”. Activists, human rights organisations and the Australian Greens characterise Plasan as complicit in the war crimes in Gaza. Plasan has said it supplied dozens of Sandcat Tigris armoured vehicles to the Israeli military after October 2023.

Beside a model armoured vehicle sat a Plasan-branded freezer with a flavour menu.

Vanilla Bean. Salted Caramel. Raspberry Ripple. Strawberry Sorbet.

Should I eat the ice cream? What would Plasan’s Raspberry Ripple ice cream taste like?

Three emails reached attendees during the day, telling us about protests and extra security measures to protect us.

On the way out, as I left the final checkpoint and started down the steps, a guard barked: “Oi, take off your lanyard.” A hand came up across my path before I got to the stairs.

I took it off but waited there for an explanation.

“What, are you advertising Land Forces? That you came here?”

I wasn’t. But it is, after all, an industry networking event about cutting-edge warfare technology. According to Land Force’s site, it costs $28,000 to secure a booth for this event, yet attendees have to tuck their badges in as they leave the event.

Even those in military uniform appeared to follow the instruction. Is this a precaution against protesters? Or is everyone just that keen to not have their name tied to Land Forces 2026?

“Off and in your pocket please.”