It's less than 1%, it's a trivial number. It doesn't even rate as a blip.
In the midst of Australia's deepening housing affordability crisis, a politician's claim that visibly foreign-looking people are dominating home auctions has met the quiet resistance of data — tax office figures showing foreign buyers account for just half a percent of residential purchases. The episode reveals something enduring about how collective anxiety seeks a face, and how easily visible difference becomes a vessel for structural frustration. The numbers do not resolve the crisis, but they do redirect the question of who, or what, is truly responsible.
- Barnaby Joyce told a national breakfast audience that people 'who look like they've recently arrived' were shutting Australians out of home auctions — a vivid claim with no statistical foundation.
- ATO data shows foreign buyers purchased just 2,672 of 540,439 homes in 2024-25, a figure housing researchers describe as 'trivial' and incapable of moving the market in any meaningful direction.
- Australia's race discrimination commissioner stepped in to warn that legitimate migration debates were sliding toward the demonisation of migrants, particularly those who are visibly different.
- Labor's Tanya Plibersek redirected blame toward domestic investors and tax settings, while exposing that Joyce had publicly misrepresented his own party's housing policy — which he admitted had not yet been written down.
- One Nation's foreign ownership policy remains poorly defined and under scrutiny, leaving the party without a credible housing affordability answer even as the underlying crisis it is exploiting stays very real.
On a Monday morning television appearance, Barnaby Joyce told viewers that Australians were being outbid at home auctions by people who looked like recent arrivals. It was a claim that felt intuitive to many — housing costs are genuinely punishing, and frustration needed somewhere to land. But the numbers told a different story.
Australian Taxation Office data for 2024-25 recorded foreign buyers acquiring just 2,672 homes out of more than 540,000 residential sales — 0.5 percent of the market. Housing researcher Michael Fotheringham was direct: the figure was trivial, and even removing foreign buyers entirely would produce no meaningful change in prices or availability.
Sitting beside Joyce on the panel, Labor minister Tanya Plibersek offered a competing diagnosis: the real pressure on auctions came from domestic investors, not migrants — which is why her government was reforming the tax system. Former immigration official Abul Rizvi added a practical note: existing rules already bar non-residents from buying established homes, meaning a foreign bidder at a typical auction would be blocked by the Foreign Investment Review Board before any sale could proceed.
Federal race discrimination commissioner Giridharan Sivaraman acknowledged that migration and housing were legitimate topics for debate, but warned that singling out particular groups — especially by appearance — crossed into demonisation. The concern was that genuine housing anxiety was being redirected toward suspicion of the visibly foreign.
The episode was compounded by Joyce's own policy confusion. Days earlier, he had incorrectly described One Nation's housing plan on air and needed a do-over after consulting colleagues. When Plibersek pressed him on the inconsistency Monday, he admitted the policy had not been written down. Her reply — 'So you just made it up?' — captured the broader problem: a political narrative built on visible difference, unsupported by evidence, and attached to a crisis that remains stubbornly real.
Barnaby Joyce stood on the set of Channel Seven's Sunrise on Monday morning and made a claim that would soon collide with hard numbers. The One Nation politician said Australians were being shut out of home auctions by "people who look like they've recently arrived"—a statement that carried the weight of lived frustration, the sense that something foreign was pricing locals out of their own market. It was a clean narrative, easy to understand, and it was wrong.
Australian Taxation Office data tells a different story. In the financial year ending June 2025, foreigners purchased 2,672 homes out of 540,439 total residential acquisitions. That's 0.5 percent. The year before, it was 0.8 percent. The year before that, 0.9 percent. Michael Fotheringham, managing director of the Australian Housing and Urban Research Institute, was blunt about what these numbers meant: "It's less than 1%, it's a trivial number." He went further. Even if Australia imposed waiting periods for new residents before they could buy property, the impact would be negligible. "It doesn't even rate as a blip, it's not a meaningful impact on the market."
Joyce's claim arrived at a moment when housing affordability had become a defining political issue in Australia. The frustration was real. The prices were real. But the culprit, according to the data, was not recent arrivals. Labor's Tanya Plibersek, sitting beside Joyce on the panel, offered a different diagnosis: "They were being knocked out by investors, Barnaby. That's why we're changing the tax system." Her government had extended a ban on foreign purchases of established dwellings through June 2029, a policy that would theoretically free up homes for Australian buyers—though the numbers suggested this was more symbolic than transformative.
Giridharan Sivaraman, the federal race discrimination commissioner, felt compelled to intervene. He acknowledged that discussions about migration and housing were legitimate. But there was a line. "The issue is when migrants are blamed, and certain types are singled out," he told Guardian Australia. "We should be able to have a nuanced, careful discussion about migration without demonising migrants." His warning reflected a concern that had animated much of the debate: that housing anxiety was being channeled into something darker, a suspicion of the foreign, the newly arrived, the visibly different.
The existing rules already constrained foreign buyers significantly. Non-residents could not purchase established homes. They could buy new or near-new dwellings, off-the-plan properties, or vacant land—categories that rarely appear at auctions. Any foreign buyer had to apply for approval from the tax office. Abul Rizvi, a former deputy secretary of the immigration department, explained the practical reality: if a temporary visa holder tried to bid on an established property at auction, the Foreign Investment Review Board would block the sale. "If you make your judgments based on being a spectator at an auction, that might not be the accurate way of assessing the market," Rizvi said.
Joyce's own party had stumbled badly on the details of its housing policy. The week before his Sunrise appearance, he had been forced to request a do-over of a Sky News interview after incorrectly claiming One Nation would force permanent residents to sell their homes. After checking with colleagues, he corrected himself: the policy would apply only to non-residents. His colleague Sean Bell later clarified that One Nation wanted to force "foreigners and temporary visa holders" to sell within two years or face fines or imprisonment. When Plibersek pressed Joyce on Monday about the confusion, he shrugged it off. "I made a mistake because we didn't have the policy written down," he said. Plibersek's response was withering: "So you just made it up?"
The gap between Joyce's claim and the data raised a question that extended beyond housing policy. It was about how political narratives form, how anxiety gets attached to visible difference, and how numbers—when they arrive—can either correct the record or be ignored. The tax office had provided clarity. The race commissioner had sounded an alarm. The housing crisis remained real. But the identity of the problem, according to the evidence, was not who Joyce had suggested it was.
Citas Notables
People in Australia get sick of going to a house auction and being knocked out of it by people who look like they've recently arrived— Barnaby Joyce, One Nation member for New England
They were being knocked out by investors, Barnaby. That's why we're changing the tax system— Tanya Plibersek, Labor minister
We should be able to have a nuanced, careful discussion about migration without demonising migrants— Giridharan Sivaraman, federal race discrimination commissioner
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does Joyce's claim matter if the numbers are so clearly against him?
Because millions of people feel the housing market is rigged against them. When a politician gives them a visible culprit—recent arrivals—it feels like an explanation. The data says that's not the real driver, but data doesn't always move people the way a story does.
So the race commissioner is worried this narrative will stick anyway?
Exactly. He's not saying the housing crisis isn't real. He's saying that blaming migrants for it, when the evidence doesn't support it, can harden into something uglier—a suspicion of foreignness itself, not just a policy disagreement.
But Joyce's party has a policy to ban foreign buyers. Isn't that based on something?
The policy exists, but it's built on a diagnosis that the data doesn't support. And the policy itself was so poorly thought through that Joyce had to correct himself on live television. That suggests the policy came first—the politics—and the reasoning came after.
What would actually address the housing crisis, then?
The data points to investors, not foreigners. Labor is trying to change the tax treatment of investment properties. That's a different conversation—less visible, less about who looks like they've recently arrived, more about how capital moves through the market.
Does Joyce's mistake get corrected, or does the narrative stick?
That's the open question. The numbers are clear. But narratives about outsiders and belonging are powerful. Whether Australians accept the correction or hold onto the story—that's still being written.