Albanese in China: 6 days, 1 panda, 0 shouting. (Some) media outrage level: critical.

Never mind that the trip secured new trade protocols, tourism agreements, and a fresh review of the China–Australia Free Trade Agreement. Never mind the agricultural breakthroughs, the reopening of tourism channels, or the decarbonisation talks with major iron ore exporters and Chinese steelmakers. None of that seemed to matter. The real problem, we were told, was tone.

According to a recent AFR editorial, Albanese was said to be “overly diplomatic,” accused of playing into Xi Jinping’s “charm offensive,” and warned that smiling too often in Beijing might cast Australia as soft.

Cultural diplomacy — walking the Great Wall, visiting a panda centre — was written off as symbolic fluff, as though symbolism is only meaningful when it involves standing next to a flag and issuing warnings.

This would all be easier to take seriously if the same commentators hadn’t also listed the many points of disagreement Albanese raised: rejecting Beijing’s push on AI, standing firm on foreign investment restrictions, expressing concern over military activity, and refusing to back China’s framing on Taiwan.

Somehow, the Prime Minister managed to say no (he did it, repeatedly) yet was still accused of not being firm enough.

There was no concession, no reset, no backing down. There was just engagement, which, in today’s political theatre, is often mistaken for appeasement.

Then comes the scheduling scandal.

Shadow Finance Minister James Paterson now warns that Australia’s $368 billion AUKUS submarine deal may be in jeopardy — not because of U.S. defence politics, budget constraints, or technology delays, but because Prime Minister Anthony Albanese visited China before meeting with former Pentagon official Elbridge Colby.

According to Paterson, this sequence “sends the wrong message” and reflects a lack of urgency. The implication is unless Australia rearranges its calendar to flatter Mr Colby, the entire security pact may unravel.

Yes, Colby, a respected strategist with strong influence within Trump administration, and longtime advocate for strong alliances. By all accounts, a man capable of distinguishing between diplomatic logistics and betrayal. And yet, if Paterson is to be believed, a missed coffee could sink the trilateral partnership.

Let’s be clear: we trust Colby is too serious, too strategic, and too familiar with Australia’s track record — from Pine Gap to the Pacific — to be swayed by scheduling. We also trust that the United States–Australia alliance is not so fragile that one diplomatic detour could erase decades of joint sacrifice.

But if that wasn’t dramatic enough, the Newcastle Incident offers a sequel.

According to News Corp, a “private meeting” occurred on July 17 between Chinese Consul General Wang Yu and Newcastle Lord Mayor, as The Daily Telegraph initially reported. In that meeting, the Consul asked whether AUKUS submarines might be based at Newcastle Port.

That’s it. That’s the story.

The meeting was recorded, the minutes available. The question was asked. The Mayor replied that Newcastle is a nuclear-free city and does not control such decisions — which rest with state and federal governments.

Still, the headline read:

“Chinese diplomat probes mayor over AUKUS submarine base in private meeting.”

“Probes.” “Private.” “Pressed for information.”

The framing leans into Cold War suspense. But what we see from the story looks like a routine diplomatic conversation: why record a private meeting with minutes?

The Consul voiced concern about how Australian strategic decisions could affect Chinese interests. The Mayor acknowledged the limits of her office. Nobody gave away secrets. Nobody pledged loyalty. Nobody defected.

One imagines the next breathless alert:

“BREAKING: Chinese diplomat seen glancing at Google Maps. Is Beijing planning an amphibious landing on Bondi Beach?”

What links these three episodes — the China trip criticism, the Colby fuss, and the Newcastle submarine scare — is not national security. It’s the performance of panic.

It’s a narrative that casts every Chinese question as a test, every diplomatic contact as compromise, every deviation from a hawkish script as disloyalty. And it turns Australia’s foreign policy into a theatre of imagined betrayals.

Senator Paterson implies a defense pact could collapse over protocol. The Daily Telegraph presents a mayoral courtesy call as strategic coercion. In both cases, the message is clear: nothing is innocent anymore.

But when everything becomes suspicious, we lose the ability to distinguish between signal and noise — between legitimate concern and manufactured drama.

We say we want calm engagement. Then panic every time someone actually tries it.

The views expressed in this article may or may not reflect those of Pearls and Irritations.