In the kaleidoscope of Australia's system, who gets to define a migrant?

In the long-standing political debate on immigration in Australia, one overlooked question has remained unanswered: who exactly are we talking about?

The ambiguity also raises another question: do we truly have a system that looks after migration and migrants?

The two basic questions have gone largely unaddressed in the Canberra bubble for decades.

These questions matter because immigration itself is a defining feature of Australia's identity, with migration playing a major role in the country's population and economic growth.

Yet lived experiences are subjective, creating a debate that people often talk past each other.

The word "migrant" is like a kaleidoscope. You turn the lens, and a different group comes into view.

In the cost-of-living crisis, they have been portrayed as both welfare-dependent refugees and foreign investors blamed for driving up housing prices and rents.

In everyday life, the criteria are much broader. They can be judged by their accent, appearance, and ethnicity, even when they are citizens who once held a visa.

The disconnect, from Parliament House to dining tables, often conflates legal status, demographics, and social identity.

It's a clear sign that Australia lacks a single concept that defines migrants across all contexts.

A migrant community doesn't exist

Migrants can be perceived as visa holders, refugees, asylum seekers, permanent residents, short term visitors and sometimes even citizens who speak or look differently.

Major political parties have long benefited from the ambiguity, using migration to advance their political narratives, until the question was brought back by Pauline Hanson's One Nation this year.

For new citizens who lack an Australian accent and do not fit the traditional image of a white Australian, being asked "where are you from?" is a daily occurrence.

People often see this as a stereotype, but it highlights the public's assumption of who migrants are.

The term "migrant" is, as a result, a fluid concept. It describes neither someone's nationality nor their race. It is sometimes used to emphasise a person's status as an outsider and their cultural differences from Australians.

The disparity in rights between citizens and non-citizens is not unique to Australia. Fellow modern nations categorise non-citizens' residency rights, social rights, and political rights into different tiers.

In Australia, the core issue is how these legal distinctions in status are translated into public life and unspoken social norms about who belongs here and who does not.

A system of status

The same person can be classified differently in different governing systems.

In census data, people can be characterised by country of birth or foreign citizenship.

In the tax system, they are classified as either Australian tax residents or foreign residents, which does not fully capture their citizenship status.

In the immigration system, they are referred to as visa holders.

These differing classifications demonstrate why non-citizens and the overseas-born population cannot be labelled by a single term.

Our current system is, in essence, a system of status. It defines a person's rights, security and accessibility to our public services.

Non-citizens bear many of the same obligations as citizens but do not have the same political rights.

The lack of voting rights in federal elections means that non-citizens cannot directly exercise oversight over policymakers.

This includes many permanent residents, who are part of a long-term, stable residency status separate from citizenship.

The transition from a temporary visa to permanent residency, and then citizenship, takes years and includes requirements from English test to multinational criminal records check.

Permanent residents may face separate eligibility requirements and waiting periods for some Centrelink and NDIS services.

Temporary residents such as international students and working holiday makers have different work rights and generally face greater restrictions to access welfare benefit and Medicare.

Our visa system is clearly tiered based on length of stay, work rights, and the potential path to permanent residency.

For non-citizens, a visa represents the stability of their life in Australia and how far they are from citizenship.

The difference in status also helps explain why some citizens — who were once migrants — oppose immigration once they have gained more rights.

This contradiction highlights the fact that permanent residents have long been an integral part of the nation's prosperity, while politicians can hardly distinguish their interests from those who are visa holders.

LoadingWho gets to become an Australian?

Under this imagined "migrant community" there are no shared interests or political demands among non-citizen residents.

Spouses, parents, and children yearn for family reunification.

International students and work visa holders need better protection when it comes to work exploitation and underpayment.

Refugees and asylum seekers need humanitarian care.

When political parties point the finger at the migrant community over housing, employment, public safety, and social cohesion, they turn a highly diverse population into a single political narrative. Migrants without the right to vote become an extremely convenient political excuse.

The idea that non-citizens as a group erodes the privileges of citizens is putting the cart before the horse.

It makes the ambiguity politically useful, allowing politicians to cherry-pick which migrant groups to highlight in line with their narrative.

Just over 50 years ago, the Whitlam government removed racial discrimination from immigration laws and finalised dismantling of the White Australia policy.

Yet the subjective judgements about who qualifies as a "real Australian" didn't disappear with the law.

The lesson is that immigration policy extends far beyond visa processing, with civic education, social services, and support for integration also shaping lives in Australia.

The government's Migration Strategy recognises this, but the lived experience of non-citizens and some first-generation Australians still exposes gaps in the system.

There is another issue that Australia must confront: are the values that unite us rooted in the "fair go" or in the privileges tied with our citizenship?

For new arrivals, how much have our public institutions put in place to support their integration, when knowledge of employment rights, gender equality, ethnic cultures, and even Australian laws still largely depends on individual effort and interest?

Some non-citizens face strict restrictions on receiving welfare benefits due to visa conditions and waiting periods.

Even highly skilled and educated permanent residents can face cultural and unwritten-rule differences that can be major obstacles to integration.

If your visa is longer-term, you feel more valued by the Australian government. If it is approved more quickly, you feel a greater sense of security.

If integration is a shared responsibility, the question is what this nation can offer beyond a visa.

For non-citizens, these subtle differences can be a matter of life and death — determining whether they can remain in Australia tomorrow. For citizens, however, they are often trivial matters that most people pay little attention to.

The deeper question for Australia is who gets to be seen as an Australian, beyond the traditional stereotype of a white Australian.

We have a large population that has worked hard to obtain permanent residency and citizenship — people who work, pay taxes, and raise families, yet may still be seen as outsiders because of their skin, culture, or religion.

The term "migrant" no longer fully reflects their legal status or social standing, much less their sense of belonging to Australia.

If politicians cannot answer who migrants are, then who gets to define what a true Australian is?