“Not the country I grew up in”

Pauline Hanson, one of Australia’s most polarising politicians, recently declared that Australia is “not the country I grew up in.” On that point, I agree – Australia has changed profoundly over the past 25 years. But where Hanson points the finger at non-white immigrants, accusing them of failing to embrace “Australian values,” I see a different tragedy: the mistreatment of those very immigrants and the steady erosion of the inclusive, compassionate society I once knew.

Our perspectives on what has changed could not be further apart, yet they reveal a shared truth – Australia stands at a crossroads, its soul shaped by the rhetoric and decisions of those in power. Leaders such as John Howard and Tony Abbott, joined by a chorus of right-wing independents and minor party agitators, have turned fear of the “other” into a political weapon. Refugees, Muslims, Palestinians, and Indigenous Australians have all been targeted in this campaign.

This is not simply a matter of opinion but a recurring pattern in our recent history – one that has dragged Australia from its image as a beacon of multiculturalism towards a nation increasingly scarred by resurgent hate and division.

Let’s start with Hanson herself, the founder of One Nation, whose career has been a masterclass in divisive rhetoric. In her 1996 maiden speech to Parliament, she warned that Australia was “in danger of being swamped by Asians,” a statement that ignited widespread debate and, for many, validated underlying prejudices.

Over the years, her targets shifted – to Muslims, Indigenous Australians, and anyone perceived as not fitting her narrow vision of “true” Aussie identity. Just last year a Federal Court ruled that Hanson’s tweet telling Greens Senator Mehreen Faruqi to “piss off back to Pakistan” constituted racial discrimination under the Racial Discrimination Act. Hanson tearfully denied being racist during a public appearance following the verdict, but the court’s finding was clear: her words weren’t just offensive; they unlawfully humiliated and intimidated based on race, colour, and national origin. Far from being a fringe voice, Hanson’s influence has normalised such sentiments, contributing to a spike in reported racial abuse. As Faruqi noted after the ruling, it’s time Hanson “faced consequences for the racism” she has peddled.

This isn’t isolated. Hanson’s playbook has been amplified by major party leaders who saw electoral gold in anti-refugee stances. John Howard’s government in the early 2000s marked a turning point. Facing a tight 2001 election, Howard seized on the Tampa affair, where his administration refused to allow a Norwegian ship carrying rescued asylum seekers to dock, declaring, “We will decide who comes to this country and the circumstances in which they come.” This was followed by the infamous “children overboard” scandal, where false claims that refugees had thrown their children into the sea were used to portray them as unfit parents – claims later exposed as baseless but politically potent.

Howard’s policies, including mandatory detention and Pacific Solution offshore processing, were criticised as racially motivated, tapping into post-9/11 fears of Muslims and “boat people.” These moves didn’t just “save lives,” as Howard later claimed; they dehumanised refugees and stoked xenophobia, culminating in events like the 2005 Cronulla riots, where mobs attacked people of Middle Eastern appearance amid a backdrop of unchecked racism. Howard’s denial of systemic racism during those riots only deepened the divide. 

Tony Abbott, Howard’s ideological successor, doubled down on this legacy. As prime minister from 2013 to 2015, Abbott launched Operation Sovereign Borders, a militarised “stop the boats” campaign that turned back asylum seeker vessels and expanded offshore detention. His rhetoric often veered into inflammatory territory: in 2019, he praised Hungary’s far-right leader Viktor Orbán for his race-based immigration policies while decrying migrants “swarming” into Europe. Abbott’s comments on Indigenous communities as “lifestyle choices” drew accusations of racism in 2015, highlighting a pattern of dismissing structural inequalities faced by non-white Australians.

Even in recent years, Abbott has warned of immigration as the “elephant still crowding the room,” framing high migration levels as a threat without addressing the economic benefits or humanitarian imperatives. Critics argue this is “strategic racism” – using coded language to appeal to fear without overt slurs. 

Peter Dutton echoed the divisive tactics of Howard and Abbott. He became notorious for racial profiling, frequently stoking fear about communities from African and Middle Eastern backgrounds. His rhetoric deepened social fault lines and risked inflaming prejudice. A clear example was his claim about so-called African gangs in Victoria – a statement still remembered today as fear-mongering that only served to heighten racial tensions.

Beyond these heavyweights, a swarm of right-wing independents and minor party figures have poured fuel on the fire. Parties like One Nation, and independents such as Fraser Anning – who infamously blamed Muslim immigration for the Christchurch mosque attacks in his 2019 maiden speech – have pushed far-right narratives into the mainstream. These groups often focus on anti-Islam tropes, with roots in post-9/11 anxieties, and have contributed to a rise in right-wing extremism. Reports indicate that since the early 2000s, such ideologies have grown, blending racism, xenophobia, and anti-democratic sentiments. The 2023 Voice to Parliament referendum, which failed amid misinformation and fearmongering about “special rights” for Indigenous people, exposed how these voices exploit division for political gain.

Has racism truly increased? Data paints a mixed but concerning picture. While Australia dismantled the White Australia policy in the 1970s and enacted the Racial Discrimination Act in 1975, surveys show persistent discrimination: a 2023 study found racism often manifests through cultural differentiation rather than overt race-based hatred, affecting immigrants and Indigenous communities. Hate crimes rose post-2001, with anti-Muslim incidents spiking after global events, and Indigenous Australians report ongoing systemic bias. Yet, some argue racism hasn’t worsened overall, pointing to increased diversity and anti-racism efforts. The truth lies in the middle: while overt policies like White Australia are gone, the subtle racism amplified by politicians has embedded itself in public life, making Australia feel less welcoming.

Australia’s changes aren’t inevitable; they’re the product of choices. Hanson, Howard, Abbott, and their ilk didn’t just reflect societal fears – they inflamed them for votes. To reclaim the egalitarian spirit of the country many grew up in, we must reject this toxic politics. That means robust anti-racism education, accountability for discriminatory speech, and policies that celebrate diversity rather than demonise it. Only then can we build an Australia that’s truly fair go for all – not just for those who look and sound like the politicians stoking the flames.

I echo Hanson’s words: Australia in 2025 is “Not the country I grew up in” either. I know why.

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