Australian universities remain popular with Chinese students, but online chat reveals growing scepticism about academic rigour, employability and value for money. These perceptions raise hard questions about the long-term sustainability of Australia’s education export model.

For more than two decades, Australia’s higher education sector has relied heavily on China as its largest and most stable source of international students. This dependence has often been framed as a success story of educational exports and people-to-people engagement. Yet beneath strong enrolment figures lies a less visible but increasingly consequential issue: reputation.

Across Chinese social media platforms, Australian universities are now frequently discussed in sceptical, and sometimes openly dismissive, terms. These perceptions matter. In China’s digital public sphere, online discourse does not merely reflect individual opinion; it shapes middle-class decision-making, family investment strategies, and long-term trust in overseas education systems. Understanding how Australia is perceived in this space is therefore essential to assessing the sustainability of its international education model.

This article draws on an online sentiment analysis of 78 highly engaged responses from five widely read Chinese-language discussion threads on Zhihu, one of China’s most influential knowledge-sharing platforms. While not a statistically representative survey, they offer valuable insight into how educated Chinese users collectively interpret the value of Australian higher education.

The dominant tone across the discussions analysed is not hostility towards Australia itself, but disappointment. Many contributors describe a growing gap between expectations promoted by institutions or education agents and the realities encountered during or after study.

One of the most persistent labels applied to Australian master’s degrees is the Chinese term shuǐ shuò, often translated as “water degree”. While frequently dismissed by institutions as an unfair stereotype, the term encapsulates a broader concern about academic depth, entry standards, and learning outcomes.

Participants commonly associate one-year, coursework-based master’s programs — particularly in business-related fields — with low entry thresholds, limited academic challenge, and high completion rates. Importantly, contributors acknowledge that motivated students can gain substantial value through internships, research projects, or additional coursework. However, they argue that the system itself does not consistently incentivise rigour, allowing disengaged students to graduate with relative ease.

This perception has less to do with rankings — Australia’s leading universities continue to perform strongly in global league tables — and more to do with credibility in the eyes of Chinese employers and peers.

Concerns about employability dominate much of the discussion. Many contributors describe Australian degrees as functioning primarily as “CV filters” rather than as sources of distinctive skills. In competitive Chinese job markets, particularly for roles in finance, consulting, or the public sector, Australian qualifications are often viewed as inferior to those from elite UK or US institutions, and sometimes even to top domestic universities.

For families facing high tuition fees and rising living costs, this perceived imbalance between investment and post-graduation outcomes fuels frustration. Business and commerce programmes receive the most criticism, with commenters arguing that course content is poorly aligned with Chinese industry practices and offers limited localised relevance upon return.

Australia’s tightening migration policies also feature prominently in negative sentiment. For many years, study in Australia was marketed — explicitly or implicitly — as a potential pathway to skilled migration. Recent increases in language requirements, heightened competition for skilled visas, and reduced certainty around post-study outcomes have disrupted this narrative.

Several contributors note that while migration through regional study or “priority” professions such as nursing or social work remains possible, the pathway has narrowed significantly. For students who entered the system with expectations shaped by outdated or exaggerated information, this shift has generated a strong sense of betrayal — often directed not only at agents, but at the system as a whole.

Despite widespread criticism, contributors do not argue that Australian education lacks value altogether. Instead, many suggest that Australia remains a rational choice for specific student profiles: those from non-elite undergraduate backgrounds seeking credential uplift; families prioritising safety and lifestyle; or students with realistic expectations about migration pathways and employment outcomes.

The problem, in their view, lies in over-generalised marketing and a failure to differentiate target cohorts. When Australia is promoted as equally suitable for academic high-flyers, migration-focused students, and those seeking rapid career advancement in China, disappointment becomes almost inevitable.

The reputational challenges facing Australian higher education in China cannot be solved through branding campaigns alone. They reflect deeper structural tensions within an export-oriented education model that prioritises scale, standardisation, and short-degree formats, while underestimating how quickly Chinese public opinion evolves.

As China’s middle class becomes more informed, comparative, and outcome-focused, trust must be earned through alignment between promise and reality.

For Australia, this means confronting uncomfortable questions about course design, labour market relevance, migration signalling, and the role of education agents in shaping expectations.

Reputation, once damaged, is difficult to restore. Yet acknowledging the legitimacy of Chinese public sentiment is a necessary first step. In a rapidly changing geopolitical and economic environment, Australia’s engagement with China through education will depend not only on how many students enrol, but on whether the system continues to be perceived as credible, fair, and worth the investment.