The stranger is used as a scapegoat
In a season of economic anxiety and political realignment, One Nation is reaching into Australia's pews with anti-abortion messaging, hoping to convert faith into votes. Yet the party's vision of a monocultural Australia sits in quiet contradiction with the lived reality of its target congregation — a churchgoing population that is, by significant measure, made up of the very migrants Pauline Hanson's platform would turn away. The oldest tension in political religion reasserts itself: between the faith invoked and the faith practiced.
- One Nation is making a deliberate and organised play for Christian voters, with Barnaby Joyce treating anti-abortion rallies as volunteer recruitment drives for the party.
- The arithmetic is tempting — nearly 44% of Australians identify as Christian, and this bloc has swung elections before — but the coalition One Nation is imagining may not actually exist in the pews.
- More than one in three regular churchgoers were born overseas, placing them squarely in the demographic that Hanson's immigration rhetoric targets, creating a fault line at the heart of the strategy.
- Christian leaders and theologians are pushing back, arguing that the party's 'Judeo-Christian values' framing is a political costume that bears little resemblance to biblical teachings on welcoming strangers and the dignity of all people.
- With housing costs and cost-of-living pressures driving voters toward outsider parties, One Nation's scapegoating of immigration may find traction — but whether it can hold together a genuinely Christian constituency remains deeply uncertain.
When Barnaby Joyce addressed roughly 1,500 anti-abortion campaigners at a Sydney rally in early June, he was doing more than lending his voice to a cause. He was scouting. One Nation, rising in the polls under Pauline Hanson, is making a calculated bid for Australia's Christian vote — a bloc that has historically favoured the Coalition but has shown it can be moved when the right issue cuts deep enough.
The surface logic is straightforward. Nearly 44% of Australians identify as Christian, about one in five attend church regularly, and the party's unambiguous opposition to abortion offers a clear signal to voters who prioritise that issue above all others. Kevin Rudd drew conservative Christians to Labor in 2007 by speaking their language; Scott Morrison reclaimed many of them in 2019. One Nation is betting it can do the same.
But the strategy contains a structural contradiction. Hanson's platform is built on opposition to immigration and multiculturalism — a vision of a monocultural Australia in which newcomers are framed as carriers of foreign troubles. The problem is that Australia's churches are not monocultural. According to the National Church Life Survey, more than one in three regular churchgoers were born overseas, and roughly a quarter speak a language other than English at home. Many attend services conducted in their mother tongue. The community One Nation is courting is, in significant part, the community its policies would exclude.
Simon Smart of the Centre for Public Christianity calls this a fundamental incompatibility. The Christian call to welcome the stranger and to see all people as made in the image of God, he argues, sits in direct tension with the party's rhetoric. Pastor and activist Jarrod McKenna goes further, noting the irony in One Nation's invocation of 'Judeo-Christian values' — a phrase, he observes, that politicians deploy without reference to what Jesus actually taught about neighbours, strangers, and the least among us.
Whether the gap between anti-abortion appeal and anti-immigration practice proves too wide for Australian Christians to bridge is the question that will determine whether this strategy succeeds. Academics remain divided on the electoral weight of the religious vote, and One Nation lacks a prominent Christian voice capable of speaking credibly to the full breadth of the churchgoing population. For now, the party is making a wager that shared moral concern over one issue can override the contradictions embedded in everything else it stands for.
In early June, Barnaby Joyce stood before a crowd of anti-abortion campaigners at a Sydney rally and made a calculation. The former deputy prime minister looked out at roughly 1,500 people and saw something else: campaign volunteers. Christian leaders had spoken. The Lord's Prayer had been recited. Many in the audience were regular churchgoers. As One Nation's popularity climbs under Pauline Hanson, the party is making a deliberate play for Australia's Christian vote—a bloc that has historically favored the Coalition but has proven willing to shift dramatically when the right issues align.
The arithmetic looks promising on the surface. Nearly 44% of Australians identify as Christian, making it the country's largest religion. About one in five attend church regularly. These voters have swung elections before. Kevin Rudd drew conservative Christians to Labor in 2007 by articulating his faith and connecting it to care for the marginalized. Scott Morrison reclaimed many of them for the Coalition in 2019 during heated debates over religious freedom. One Nation's unambiguous stance against abortion could appeal to believers who prioritize that issue above all others.
But there is a tension at the heart of the party's courtship. Hanson's political platform rests fundamentally on opposition to immigration and multiculturalism. She has spoken of a "growing language problem" tied to immigration and advocated for a "monocultural" Australia. She has warned that people "coming into this country" bring "troubles they have left behind." She has even questioned whether "good Muslims" exist. This vision sits uneasily with the actual composition of Australia's churches. According to the National Church Life Survey, more than one in three churchgoers were born overseas. About a quarter speak a language other than English at home. Many attend services conducted in their mother tongue.
Simon Smart, executive director of the Centre for Public Christianity, sees a fundamental incompatibility. "The anti-immigration, anti-refugee stance of One Nation will be a stumbling block to people whose faith calls them to welcome the stranger and to view all people as precious because they're made in the image of God," he says. The language of monoculture, he argues, clashes with the Christian vision of communion across "every tribe, nation and tongue." There is, he suggests, "good reason to pause and reconsider."
One Nation frames its platform around what it calls "Judeo-Christian" values—a formulation that explicitly excludes other faiths from its vision of Australia. Jarrod McKenna, a pastor and mobilization strategist at the Christian humanitarian agency Act for Peace, notes the irony. Politicians rarely invoke that phrase to mean what Jesus actually taught. "They are never using it to refer to love of neighbour and very rarely refer to welcoming the stranger," McKenna says. "If anything, the stranger is used as a scapegoat."
The party's appeal to Christians comes at a moment of acute economic pressure. Housing costs and the rising cost of living have left many Australians searching for answers outside the mainstream. Hanson has attributed the housing crisis primarily to immigration-driven demand, without acknowledging decades of chronic undersupply or the role of investor-friendly tax settings. The scapegoating is seductive when people are struggling.
Whether One Nation can actually mobilize Christian voters as a bloc remains uncertain. Academics debate whether the religious vote carries enough weight to swing elections, given the diversity of opinion within churches themselves. John Black, a former Labor senator, notes that if Australia has a "Bible belt," it lies in the suburban peripheries of major cities—densely populated marginal seats where religious voters could influence a tight race. John Warhurst, an emeritus professor of political science at the Australian National University, points out that One Nation lacks an obvious Christian voice capable of appealing to the broader churchgoing population. Donald Trump has succeeded with certain Christian groups despite his persona, Warhurst notes, suggesting that policy and messaging might be enough. But for many Australian Christians, the gap between anti-abortion rhetoric and anti-immigration practice may prove too wide to bridge.
Citações Notáveis
The anti-immigration, anti-refugee stance of One Nation will be a stumbling block to people whose faith calls them to welcome the stranger and to view all people as precious because they're made in the image of God.— Simon Smart, executive director of the Centre for Public Christianity
They are never using it to refer to love of neighbour and very rarely refer to welcoming the stranger. If anything, the stranger is used as a scapegoat.— Jarrod McKenna, pastor and mobilization strategist at Act for Peace, on how politicians invoke 'Judeo-Christian values'
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
So One Nation is essentially saying to Christians: we agree with you on abortion, come help us campaign. Why would that not work?
Because most Christians don't vote on a single issue. They hold multiple values at once. And when you look at who actually sits in Australian pews, a third of them were born in another country. They speak different languages at home. Hanson's vision of a monocultural Australia is directly hostile to their lived experience.
But couldn't a Christian prioritize abortion over immigration? Isn't that a legitimate choice?
It is. But the people making that choice have to reconcile it with what their faith actually teaches about welcoming strangers and seeing the image of God in all people. That's not a political calculation—it's a theological one. And for many, it creates real tension.
Is One Nation's "Judeo-Christian values" language just a way of saying Christian values?
No. It's a way of excluding other faiths while claiming a Christian heritage. But when you listen to what they actually mean by it—warnings about outsiders, scapegoating immigrants—it doesn't match what Jesus taught. That gap is what Christian leaders are pointing out.
Could this strategy still work if One Nation just focuses on the abortion message and downplays the immigration stuff?
Possibly, but Hanson's anti-immigration stance isn't a side issue. It's the core of her political identity. You can't separate the two. And migrant Christians will hear both messages loud and clear.
So what would actually persuade Christian voters to support One Nation?
A credible Christian voice within the party who can articulate faith in a way that resonates beyond the base. Someone like Kevin Rudd did for Labor. Right now, One Nation doesn't have that. They have policy and messaging, but not the person who can make it feel authentic to people in the pews.