Australia seeks deeper integration with Asia while continuing to send cultural and political signals that undermine trust among its closest neighbours. In a region shaped by Islam, history and proximity, this contradiction carries strategic consequences.

Australia enters the Asian Century with a structural contradiction at its core. It seeks deeper strategic integration with its region while continuing to send cultural signals that undermine trust among the very neighbours it depends on. In Southeast Asia and the broader Indo‑Pacific, where Islam, history, and public sentiment shape diplomacy as much as treaties, this contradiction is not abstract. It is strategic.

Australia’s future lies in Asia. But its cultural reflexes still point elsewhere.

Australia’s immediate strategic environment contains more than 680 million Muslims, stretching from Indonesia and Malaysia through South Asia to Bangladesh, Pakistan, and the Western Indian Ocean. This is one of the largest concentrations of Muslim populations anywhere on earth.

Indonesia alone has over 230 million Muslims – the largest Muslim population in the world and its closest islands sit just 130 kilometres from Australia’s northern coastline, across the Arafura Sea and the Torres Strait. No other western‑aligned nation sits this close to such a large Muslim‑majority neighbour.

These societies are overwhelmingly peaceful, moderate, and cooperative. Indonesia’s Nahdlatul Ulama and Muhammadiyah promote pluralism and interfaith coexistence. Malaysia and Brunei embed Islamic values within stable constitutional frameworks. Bangladesh and the Maldives maintain strong traditions of religious moderation. Across the region, governments invest heavily in deradicalisation, community cohesion, and social harmony.

In this environment, cultural respect is not symbolic. It is a strategic requirement.

Domestic incidents in Australia, such as police confronting Muslims while praying, are therefore not interpreted as isolated events. They are read through religious solidarity, historical memory of colonial policing, expectations of respect toward Islamic practice, and public sentiment that governments cannot ignore.

For neighbours only a short sea crossing away, these signals matter.

Islam has been present in Australia for centuries. Makassan fishermen from Sulawesi traded with Indigenous communities in northern Australia from at least the 1700s. Afghan cameleers were essential to the development of inland Australia in the 19th century. Muslim communities have been part of the national fabric long before Federation.

Yet despite this history, Islamophobia has been a recurring feature of Australian public life. National studies across the past two decades have documented rising anti‑Muslim prejudice, disproportionate targeting of visibly Muslim women, spikes in hate incidents during global conflicts, negative media framing of Muslims, and political rhetoric that inflames public sentiment.

These cultural patterns extend beyond religion. For decades, parts of Australian media and popular culture have portrayed Asian women through sexualised stereotypes, “massage girls”, “mail‑order brides”, or workers in the sex industry. These depictions reflect a deeper hierarchy in which Asia is feminised, exoticised, and treated as subordinate. In Southeast Asia, where women hold senior political, academic, and religious leadership roles, such stereotypes reinforce the perception that Australia still views the region through a colonial and gendered lens.

Immigration is one of Australia’s greatest potential strengths. More than 30 per cent of Australians are born overseas, one of the highest rates in the world. Asian migration – particularly from India, China, the Philippines, Vietnam, Malaysia, and Indonesia – has reshaped Australia’s workforce and cultural landscape.

In Asia, immigration is seen as a capability tool, a driver of innovation, and a mechanism for regional integration. Singapore, Malaysia, and South Korea all use immigration strategically to build national capacity.

Australia, however, often frames immigration as a political problem. This framing is noticed in the region. When Australia debates immigration in negative terms, it signals discomfort with Asian integration at the very moment it needs deeper regional ties.

A capability‑focused immigration policy would align Australia with the practices of its neighbours and strengthen its standing in the region.

AUKUS was presented domestically as a stabilising force, but across Southeast Asia it was widely interpreted as a break with the nuclear‑free Pacific tradition, a reaffirmation of Australia’s western military identity, and a move that excluded ASEAN from regional security architecture.

Indonesia and Malaysia expressed concern not only about nuclear propulsion but about the strategic message: Australia was doubling down on western alignment without regional consultation.

This created diplomatic space for Russia. Moscow has since expanded its courtship of Indonesia through civil nuclear energy cooperation, offers of reactor technology, deeper defence ties, and discussions about strategic access in eastern Indonesia (Irian Jaya / Papua).

Whether these arrangements materialise is less important than the fact they are being explored. Their emergence signals a broader regional recalibration triggered by Australia’s choices.

AUKUS did not freeze the region into a western orbit. It encouraged some states to diversify their partnerships.

Australia’s challenge is not capability. It is coherence. The country wants to be a trusted partner in the Asian Century while continuing to behave, speak, and signal as if it sits outside the region looking in. Domestic incidents, policing decisions, political rhetoric, alliance language, nuclear choices, and now the embrace of Israel’s president all carry weight in a neighbourhood shaped by Islam, history, and proximity.

They shape trust. They shape perception. They shape alignment.

A culturally literate foreign policy is not a soft add‑on to strategy. It is strategy. And without it, Australia will continue to push its neighbours toward alternative partnerships – whether with China, Russia, or any other power willing to treat them with respect.

So what could a culturally literate Australian foreign policy look like?

A culturally literate approach begins with recognising that Australia’s closest neighbours are peaceful, moderate Muslim societies whose political legitimacy is tied to public sentiment, religious respect, and historical memory. In this environment, cultural signals are strategic signals.

A culturally literate foreign policy would include:

• respectful domestic conduct toward Muslim communities;
• regional consultation as the default for major decisions;
• immigration framed as capability, not crisis;
• diplomatic alignment that accounts for regional sentiment;
• recognition of proximity and demographic reality; and
• awareness of strategic ripple effects triggered by AUKUS.

A culturally literate foreign policy does not require Australia to abandon its alliances. It requires Australia to understand how those alliances and the company it keeps, including Israel are interpreted by the region it claims to value.

Australia stands at a crossroads. It can continue to behave as a western outpost adjacent to Asia, sending cultural signals that undermine its strategic ambitions. Or it can align its identity with its geography, recognising that respect, sensitivity, and regional literacy are the foundations of influence in a neighbourhood shaped by Islam, history, and proximity.

The Asian Century will not wait for Australia to resolve its contradictions. The region is already moving. The question is whether Australia chooses to move with it – or be left behind.