Trump liable for sexual abuse

For nearly thirty years, Pauline Hanson has occupied the fringes of Australian politics. The outspoken founder and leader of the far-right, populist One Nation party has built a career railing against immigration and multiculturalism. Despite years of headlines for her political stunts and controversial quotes, her movement never broke into the mainstream. That may be changing.

In May, One Nation scored a surprise victory in the rural seat of Farrer in a special by-election. It was the party’s first-ever victory in Australia’s lower house of Parliament and ended more than seven decades of control by the center-right National-Liberal Coalition in the district. Later that month, the party overtook the ruling center-left Labor Party in a national opinion poll for the first time ever.

“We cannot be a multicultural society. We are a multiracial society. But we must be monocultural,” Hanson told a room full of supporters at a rally last month.

Australia is hardly unique in producing politicians like Hanson and parties like One Nation. Far-right populists have crystallized in recent years in Europe and North America, such as National Rally in France, AfD in Germany, Reform UK in the United Kingdom, and the MAGA movement in the United States, fueled by angst over immigration, the cost of living, and inequality. But Australia has, until now, largely resisted that trend – thanks to a political system that has long rewarded the center.

Finding the center. For decades, Australia has been dominated by two political blocs: the center-left Labor Party and the center-right coalition of the Liberal and National parties. The two sides have alternated power since 1949, leaving little room for other parties to gain traction.

Part of the reason is institutional. Australia has compulsory voting, and turnout has only dipped below 90% once since the practice was introduced in 1925. Because nearly every eligible Australian casts a ballot, elections are decided by the political center rather than whichever party can most effectively energize its base. The country’s ranked choice voting system reinforces that, rewarding candidates who can win second- and third-choice votes instead of relying on a narrow but passionate slice of the electorate. Together, those rules have made it much harder for an anti-establishment movement to break into the political mainstream.

Centrism is also embedded in Australia’s political culture. Amy Remeikis, chief political analyst at The Australia Institute, a non-partisan think tank based in Canberra, says Australian politicians have a tradition of competing for the center. “No major party in Australia, including the conservatives, would dream of directly attacking universal healthcare or education [like a right-wing party might],” she told GZERO. “So our ideological arguments do not tend to be as heated. There is much common ground.”

Enter Pauline Hanson. She kicked off her political career in 1996 when she won a long-held Labor Party seat in her home state of Queensland. Her campaign quickly drew attention after she called for an end to what she described as preferential treatment for Aboriginal Australians, and in her debut speech to Parliament she argued for sharply reducing immigration and declared that multiculturalism was undermining Australia’s national identity – fringe political at the time. The following year, she founded One Nation.

For years, however, Hanson struggled to turn headlines into lasting political success. Then, seemingly almost overnight, One Nation’s support surged above 30% following its victory in Farrer.

What changed? Australia is experiencing some of the same economic pressures that have fueled populist movements elsewhere. After decades of steady economic growth, the country is grappling with a housing affordability crisis, real wage decline, and slowing economic growth.

“We know that support for right-wing extremists surges after periods of economic challenge,” Labor MP Andrew Leigh told GZERO. But he argues One Nation has also succeeded by “weaponizing anger and grievance for their own political ends.”

That economic frustration has also given new life to Hanson's oldest political issue: immigration. Australia has one of the highest foreign-born populations in the G20, at 32%, and multiculturalism has long been a central part of the country’s identity. “Most Australians that I speak with recognize … that diversity has long been a source of economic strength and resilience for Australia,” Leigh said.

But as economic woes grow, and on the back of the Bondi shooting carried out by Islamic State sympathizers late last year, Hanson has increasingly tied those problems to migration.

One Nation’s rise has also coincided with an identity crisis in Australia’s conservative movement. After a bruising election defeat to the Labor Party in the 2025 federal election, infighting over the direction of the Coalition has led to a massive drop in support, leaving space on the right that Hanson has eagerly filled.

Others see a broader rejection of Australia's political establishment. David Pocock, a center-left and Independent Senator for the Australian Capital Territory, says “One Nation and community independents are very different political movements, but their rise reflects a similar underlying frustration with so many Australians feeling the political status quo is not delivering for them.”

Will One Nation’s surge last this? Remeikis is skeptical. She argues that many of the party’s new voters appear motivated less by Hanson's most hardline views than by frustration with the major parties. Polling has shown that when Hanson receives sustained national attention, and voters are reminded of some of her more controversial positions, support for One Nation tends to soften: just this week, Hanson faced widespread backlash from all sides of the political spectrum after she said that domestic violence “was a two-way street.”

Establishment parties like Labor don’t seem to be caving under the pressure. Asked what his party is overlooking about One Nation's rise, Andrew Leigh’s answer was strikingly simple: “Nothing.”