Australia likes to tell itself a comforting story: that it is welcomed with open arms in Southeast Asia, admired as a trustworthy partner and respected as a responsible regional player. Canberra’s talking points are familiar – “shared prosperity”, “deepening engagement”, “being part of Asia”. But anyone with boots on the ground in Hanoi, Jakarta, or Manila knows this is largely wishful thinking.
The truth is far messier, and often much less flattering. At street level, Australia is not viewed as the benign, multicultural partner it imagines itself to be. It is, more often, seen as aloof, self-important, and sometimes even hypocritical – qualities Asians can perceive when they sense moralising or selective criticism from Canberra. The political posturing that plays well in Canberra is frequently misunderstood – or resented – across Southeast Asia. Worse, it sometimes makes Australia look like the neighbour nobody asked for.
Too often, Australia ends up looking like the timid cousin: risk-averse, rigid, and ultimately irrelevant.
Take migration, for example. Canberra touts its immigration system as firm, fair, and generous. Yet in Southeast Asia, the perception is rather different. Australia talks endlessly about “regional integration” while maintaining visa systems that are labyrinthine, expensive, and stacked against ordinary Southeast Asians. The spectacle of turning back asylum seekers at sea or locking them up offshore remains vivid in regional memory – Australia’s controversial offshore processing policies, including the “Pacific Solution” and Operation Sovereign Borders, have drawn sharp criticism. In countries where migration is part of family survival and aspiration, Australia’s hardline stance doesn’t look like border security – it looks like cruelty – such as in highly publicised cases of Vietnamese “boat people” being returned and imprisoned.
When politicians in Canberra score domestic points by railing against “Asian gangs” or “foreign workers”, those words echo far louder in neighbouring capitals than many Australians realise.
The business story isn’t much better. On paper, Australia is a “strategic economic partner” to the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), celebrating trade pacts and ministerial visits. But on the ground, Southeast Asian business leaders often roll their eyes at working with Australian firms. The complaint is consistent: Australians are too slow, too legalistic, too suspicious. The endless compliance checklists and due-diligence rituals that Australians prize as “good governance” are interpreted in Hanoi or Kuala Lumpur as condescension, as if Asian partners can’t be trusted. Meanwhile, Chinese, Japanese, and Korean competitors close deals swiftly – yes, with their own bureaucracy, but lubricated by cultural fluency and flexibility. Too often, Australia ends up looking like the timid cousin: risk-averse, rigid, and ultimately irrelevant.
On paper, Australia is a “strategic economic partner” to ASEAN, but on the ground, Southeast Asian business leaders often roll their eyes at working with Australian firms (Mohd Rasfan/AFP via Getty Images)
Politically, the problem is even sharper. Southeast Asia listens carefully to Australia’s foreign policy rhetoric – and often recoils. The “deputy sheriff” image, born in the Howard years and still lingering, is poison in this part of the world. Canberra’s habit of broadcasting its loyalty to Washington may reassure domestic audiences, but in Southeast Asia it comes across as tone-deaf and colonial. The subtext is obvious: Australia is not really speaking with Asia, it is speaking for America. Australia’s identity crisis – torn between being an Asian neighbour and a Western outpost – remains unresolved, and the region can see it more clearly than Australians themselves.
Canberra’s tin ear on migration, its bureaucratic rigidity in business, and its habit of parroting American security priorities are draining the reservoir of trust.
And then there’s the cultural dimension. Australia likes to boast about its multiculturalism, but Southeast Asians don’t just hear the official story – they also hear the dog whistles. They see the endless Australian election debates about “population pressures”, “protecting Australian jobs”, and “stopping the boats”. They notice when migrants are scapegoated in tabloid headlines. These mixed messages matter. When Southeast Asians send their children to study in Australia, they do so with both admiration and unease. Many students return with world-class degrees – and stories of racism, alienation, and being treated as outsiders. These experiences circulate back home. They stick.
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: Australia’s soft power remains strong in some places – Australian universities continue to attract ambitious students – but its hard edges are increasingly visible. Yes, aid and development projects have made an imprint in local communities. But goodwill is not infinite. Canberra’s tin ear on migration, its bureaucratic rigidity in business, and its habit of parroting American security priorities are draining the reservoir of trust.
Can Australia lift its image? Absolutely – but only if it is willing to shed some illusions:
Stop congratulating itself on being “part of Asia” and start asking whether Asia feels the same way.Treat migration not as a domestic wedge issue but as a regional lifeline: streamline visas and welcome Southeast Asians as genuine partners. This aligns with expert proposals for responsibility-sharing and regional cooperation on asylum, rather than deterrence.Business leaders must ditch the assumption that caution equals credibility. In this region, agility and trust matter more than reams of paperwork.Canberra’s foreign policy must finally grow up: no more deputy-sheriff posturing, no more parroting of American talking points, no more Cold War nostalgia.
Australia is fond of saying it “punches above its weight” internationally. In Southeast Asia, the reality is harsher: it often punches itself in the face. If Canberra really wants to be taken seriously in the neighbourhood, it needs less swagger, less self-congratulation, and far more humility. The region is watching closely – not what Australia says, but what it actually does. And right now, the verdict is clear: Australia has a long way to go before it is seen as the partner it wants to be.