One Nation uses housing to talk about what it really wants to talk about: immigration.
Across three decades of Australian political life, Pauline Hanson has never stood where she stands now — polling above both the prime minister and opposition leader combined, carried there not by ideology alone but by the accumulated weight of households ground down by two successive waves of economic hardship. When wages stagnate, savings vanish, and the dream of home ownership recedes beyond the horizon for an entire generation, voters begin searching for voices that offer clarity, however simplified. One Nation has found that clarity in a single, potent narrative: that immigration is the cause, and restriction is the cure. Whether the cure fits the disease is a question that economic complexity rarely gets to answer before the ballot is cast.
- A second inflationary wave, compounded by the Iran war and falling real wages, has pushed Australian households past the point of resilience — savings already depleted from the first crisis are now gone, and the financial and emotional strain is visibly fracturing communities.
- One Nation has seized the moment with surgical precision, fusing housing unaffordability, inflation, and job insecurity into a single immigration narrative that floods social media with the promise of painless solutions.
- The Coalition's own decision to link migration rates to housing supply has handed One Nation mainstream legitimacy, leaving Labor isolated as the party defending a complexity that desperate voters have little patience to hear.
- Economists warn that sharp immigration cuts could trigger labour shortages, stall home construction, and accelerate the costs of an aging population — but nuance is losing badly to clarity in the current political climate.
- With a federal election due by 2028, Labor faces a narrow window to deliver tangible housing and cost-of-living improvements before economic conditions either deepen One Nation's appeal or, if the party's promises prove hollow under scrutiny, begin to erode it.
Pauline Hanson has spent thirty years in Australian politics, but only now has One Nation reached polling heights that place her approval above both the prime minister and opposition leader combined. The shift is recent, sharp, and rooted in something more durable than ordinary voter frustration. Australian households are living through conditions that echo the stagflation of the 1970s — prices climbing while wages stagnate, savings depleted, job security uncertain. The housing market has become the most visible wound: a quarter-century of price growth that wages have never matched, and a younger generation that has largely abandoned the idea of ownership.
What distinguishes this moment from earlier cost-of-living crises is the narrative One Nation has constructed around it. The party has tied housing affordability, inflation, and economic anxiety directly to immigration — a move that researchers like Jordan McSwiney of the University of Canberra describe as a deliberate bait and switch, using economic grievance as a vehicle to reach voters on the terrain where One Nation is strongest. The Coalition, fractured and struggling, has already granted this framing mainstream credibility by linking migration rates to housing supply. One Nation simply prosecutes the argument more forcefully, promising easy solutions at no cost to voters.
The housing crisis is genuinely structural: decades of undersupply, tax settings favouring investors, and deep economic shifts. Migration does pressure rents and availability in the short term, but it also supplies the workers needed to build homes and sustain an aging economy. AMP chief economist Shane Oliver warns that drastic immigration cuts could produce labour shortages and compound long-term fiscal strain. These nuances, however, do not travel well on social media, and they offer little comfort to households stocking up on canned goods after cutting back on every discretionary expense.
The timing of One Nation's surge is itself instructive. The first inflationary wave, beginning in late 2021, did not produce Hanson's current numbers. It was the second wave — arriving late last year, worsened by the Iran war — that drove her polling sharply upward, hitting households whose reserves were already exhausted. UNSW professor Gabrele Gratton frames this as a sequence of shocks: voters rarely abandon political allegiances after a single blow, but after repeated ones, trust in institutions erodes and alternatives begin to look credible. The pattern is familiar from the United States and Europe.
One Nation will face its first serious test at the next federal election, due by 2028. Hanson must now withstand the scrutiny that comes with being a central political player, and voters will eventually weigh whether her solutions hold up. For Labor, there is no quick path to housing affordability — only the slow, unglamorous work of announcing and delivering policies that improve daily life, hoping it happens before the polls open. The window is narrowing, and the economic conditions that have fuelled One Nation's rise show little sign of resolving themselves on their own.
Pauline Hanson has spent thirty years in Australian politics, but only now has her party reached the kind of polling heights that make her approval ratings exceed those of the prime minister and opposition leader combined. The shift is recent and sharp, and it points to something deeper than the usual cycle of voter discontent with the major parties. Australians are living through an economic squeeze that feels, to many households, like the stagflation of the 1970s—prices rising while wages stagnate, savings depleted, job security uncertain. The housing market has become the visible wound: prices have climbed for a quarter-century at a pace that wages have never matched, and younger Australians have largely given up on owning a home.
What makes this moment different from earlier cost-of-living crises is how One Nation has managed to thread a single narrative through the chaos. The party has tied housing affordability, inflation, and economic anxiety directly to immigration policy. It is a bait and switch, according to Jordan McSwiney, a researcher at the University of Canberra who studies far-right movements. One Nation is uncomfortable on economic and housing policy, he explains, so the party uses those issues as a vehicle to reach voters on the terrain where it is strongest: immigration. Hanson has declared at the National Press Club that immigration policy has placed the country in crisis. The Coalition, fractured and struggling, has already given this framing mainstream credibility by explicitly linking migration rates to housing supply. One Nation simply prosecutes the argument more effectively, flooding social media with promises of easy solutions at no cost to voters.
The housing problem itself is genuinely complex. Decades of undersupply, tax settings that favor investors, and structural economic shifts have created the crisis. Migration does place immediate pressure on rents and housing availability, but it also supplies the workers needed to build homes, expand the tax base, and fill critical skill gaps. Shane Oliver, chief economist at AMP, warns that drastic cuts to immigration could trigger labour shortages and leave the economy struggling with the costs of an aging population. Yet these nuances do not travel well on social media, and they do not offer the clarity that voters desperate for relief are seeking.
The timing of One Nation's surge is itself revealing. The initial wave of inflation and cost-of-living pressure, which began in late 2021, did not produce the party's current support. It was only when a second inflationary wave hit, beginning late last year and worsened by the Iran war, that Hanson's numbers climbed sharply. By then, Australian households were not simply facing new price increases—they were facing them on top of savings already depleted by the first crisis. The OECD has documented that real hourly wages in Australia are falling, meaning living costs are rising faster than paychecks. Households have cut back on takeaway coffees and restaurant meals, stocking up instead on cheap canned goods. Financial and emotional resilience, after months of strain, is wavering.
Gabrele Gratton, a professor of politics and economics at the University of New South Wales business school, describes this as a sequence of shocks. Voters do not typically shift their political allegiances after a single economic blow, but after a series of them, trust in political and bureaucratic elites erodes and people begin searching for alternatives. The lesson from the United States and Europe is that sustained economic pressure can push voters toward populist movements, regardless of ideology.
One Nation will face its first real test at the next federal election, due by 2028. The global economic outlook remains uncertain, with the Iran war and potential oil supply disruptions creating additional inflationary risk. Hanson must now contend with the scrutiny that comes with being a central political player, and voters will begin to evaluate whether her party's solutions are credible. Talk of ending multiculturalism and creating a monoculture may alienate significant groups of voters. The party will need to hold together to remain competitive.
For the Labor government, there is no quick fix to housing affordability, which means it will remain a major electoral issue for the next two years. McSwiney says Labor faces a long, slow process of announcing and delivering policies that improve everyday life—the kind of work that might eventually undermine One Nation's appeal, but only if it happens before voters go to the polls. The Coalition, meanwhile, must rebuild itself as a serious opposition. The window for all of this is closing. In less than two years, Australians will vote, and by then the economic conditions that have fueled One Nation's rise will have either shifted or deepened.
Citas Notables
One Nation is doing a bit of a bait and switch, using housing and the economy to talk about what they really want to talk about, which is immigration.— Jordan McSwiney, researcher at University of Canberra
Voters lose trust in political and bureaucratic elites and seek alternatives when they experience a sequence of economic shocks.— Gabriele Gratton, professor of politics and economics at UNSW
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why did One Nation's support spike now, when Australians have been struggling with cost-of-living pressures for years?
It's not just one crisis—it's the second one landing on top of the first. By the time inflation returned late last year, households had already burned through their savings from the pandemic. They're not just facing new price hikes; they're facing them with nothing left in the tank.
But housing has been unaffordable for decades. Why is immigration suddenly the explanation?
Because One Nation needed a narrative that felt simple and actionable. Housing is a structural problem—undersupply, tax settings, decades of price growth. Immigration is a policy lever they can point to. It lets them talk about the economy without actually having to solve it.
Does immigration actually drive housing costs?
It's part of the picture, but not the main one. Migration does create immediate pressure on rents, but migrants also build homes and fill labour gaps. The real problem is we've underbuilt for twenty-five years. But that's a harder story to tell on social media.
What happens if One Nation actually gets power and cuts immigration sharply?
That's the credibility test. Labour shortages could follow, and the economy would struggle with an aging population. But that's a problem for after the election. Right now, the party is offering relief, not consequences.
Can Labor stop this?
Only by delivering real improvements to people's lives before 2028. That's slow work—announcing policies, building homes, raising wages. One Nation is offering answers now. Labor is asking for patience.
Is this unique to Australia?
No. The US and Europe have seen the same pattern. When voters experience a sequence of economic shocks, they lose faith in the system and start looking for alternatives. It's not about left or right—it's about feeling abandoned.