Meeting the Chinese president is apparently now treason. At least, that’s what you’d think if you followed some of our media’s coverage of Anthony Albanese’s latest diplomatic sin: talking to Beijing.

According to them, Albanese isn’t conducting foreign policy. He’s waltzing into the dragon’s lair, bouquet in hand, sovereignty flapping behind him.

All he’s doing is talking. But the way it’s framed, a conversation with Beijing feels less like diplomacy and more like crossing a red line.

According to News Corp, this is his fourth meeting with Xi — and zero with Trump — which somehow makes him both a communist sympathiser and an ungrateful guest who hasn’t paid his respects at Mar-a-Lago. Never mind that Trump only just returned to office. Or that diplomacy tends to work better when you show up in person, not shout from a distance.

Then comes the calendar panic – this time from the Sydney Morning Herald’s “As China prepares to invade Taiwan, a reality check: sitting on the sidelines won’t help us.”

According to this masterpiece, the visit lands close to the PLA’s 98th anniversary, and that’s meant to mean something. You’d think Albanese was showing up for a military parade instead of a bilateral meeting.

The subtext is clear: shake Xi’s hand, and you’re practically endorsing a war.

Even if he flew in waving a peace proposal, the headline would still read: PM Fans Flames of War.

And that’s the real issue. Some of our media seem more interested in rehearsing Cold War narratives than thinking through strategy. No attempt to ask what diplomacy actually requires in a region where your largest trading partner is also your sheriff’s most complicated rival. No space for uncomfortable questions about how to balance alliance obligations with regional stability. Just gut reactions and recycled scripts:

China building up.

China bad.

Taiwan next.

Sheriff wants us.

We have to choose.

And “choosing” now seems to mean buying subs, saluting harder and sticking close enough to the sheriff that we stop noticing who else is in the town.

Meanwhile, the detail gets brushed aside. Like the $325 billion in annual two-way trade. Or the fact that it’s always easier to prepare for war than to step away from one.

What’s missing isn’t toughness. It’s perspective. The volume goes up, but the conversation keeps narrowing – as if mouthing the right slogans matters more than the outcomes.

Subtlety doesn’t land anymore. Caution reads as weakness. And if you’re not visibly anxious, people start questioning whose side you’re really on.

So we fall back on the mantras. “China’s a dictatorship.” “We can’t trust them.” “We need the Americans.” Repeat them often enough and they start to sound like strategy.

But a reflex isn’t a plan.

You see it in the language that gets wheeled out every few weeks. Taiwanese beaches. Amphibious landings. 1930s Europe. Operation this or that. The stage is set. All that’s missing is a spark.

And yet, the most basic question gets skipped. If war over Taiwan is really looming, and if Australia would be pulled in, shouldn’t we be having hard conversations with the one country that might actually help prevent it?

Apparently not. That kind of thinking sounds too uncertain. Too hopeful. And in today’s climate, even suggesting dialogue risks being seen as disloyal.

Look, Albanese isn’t perfect. No prime minister is. But making space to speak to both Washington and Beijing isn’t betrayal. It’s common sense for a country that doesn’t get to choose its partners – both in defence and trade.

And if July is somehow off-limits because of the PLA anniversary, when exactly is a prime minister allowed to visit?

Not June – that’s too close to when the Chinese Communist Party was founded.

Not September – Mid-Autumn Festival, might look like he’s seeking “reunion” with Beijing.

October? How dare he celebrate China’s National Day!

November? Singles Day – China’s shopping extravaganza. Betraying ANZAC values, clearly.

December? Suspiciously close to Mao’s birthday.

January? Why would he go there during Chinese New Year? He should be in Box Hill or Hurstville.

February? Lantern Festival. Those lanterns are too red, just like Labor.

March? International Women’s Day. Too left.

April? Qingming – ancestor remembrance day. Politically murky.

May? Labour Day. Heaven forbid a Labor PM travel then.

Oh, and next year? That’ll be the 99th anniversary of the PLA. Year after that? The 100th. So that’s blocked too.

At this rate, we might need to run foreign policy past an astrologer.

Or better yet, we could try something revolutionary: thinking for ourselves.

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