In the span of two weeks, Prime Minister Anthony Albanese was called “a weak politician” by Iran’s foreign minister and a “weak leader” by Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. Rarely do adversaries as implacably opposed as Tehran and Jerusalem find themselves in agreement, but on this point they converged.
For Iran, the trigger was the expulsion of its ambassador and the move to designate the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) a terrorist organisation. For Israel, it was Australia recognising the state of Palestine at the United Nations. These twin rebukes capture the diplomatic vice in which Australia now finds itself, and the challenge of maintaining consistent principles with allies and adversaries.
The confrontation with Iran was sudden and swift. On 26 August, ASIO reported a link between the IRGC and two antisemitic arson attacks in Sydney and Melbourne, reportedly designed to intimidate Jewish Australians and undermine social cohesion. Canberra’s response was blunt: the expulsion of Iran’s ambassador (the first such expulsion since World War II), suspension of embassy operations, and the start of a process to designate the IRGC as a terrorist organisation.
Tehran dismissed the allegations as politically motivated and claimed Australia was merely doing Israel’s bidding, with Iranian Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi accusing Albanese of political opportunism. The Albanese government justified its decision in terms of national interests and protecting Australian citizens from foreign intimidation.
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This position will not be without cost. Retaliation by Iran is a real possibility, whether through cyber operations, harassment of dual Australian-Iranian citizens, or disinformation campaigns. This episode has not ended anxieties either, with Jewish community leaders remaining on edge and seeking more transparency about threats, while Iranian dissidents in diaspora brace for further backlash from Iran.
Running alongside this crisis is a very different test of principle: Australia’s long-standing commitment to a two-state solution and, after decades of hesitation, the decision to recognise Palestinian statehood. That commitment traces back to 1947, when External Affairs H.V. Evatt led Australia’s support for UN Resolution 181, which envisaged the birth of the Israeli and Palestinian states. It took almost 80 years for Canberra to complete its promise of formal recognition.
Prime Minister Anthony Albanese broke that pattern in August 2025, announcing that Australia would recognise Palestine at the UN General Assembly. “A two-state solution is humanity’s best hope,” he declared. Foreign Affairs Minister Penny Wong reinforced the rationale: “We can’t keep waiting for the end of a peace process that has ground to a halt.”
The Israeli government accused Albanese of betrayal and warned that recognition would embolden Hamas. Meanwhile, tens of thousands of Australians poured onto the streets, with the “March for Humanity” across the Sydney Harbour Bridge drawing unprecedented numbers — estimated at 90,000 by police and over 200,000 by organisers — demanding recognition, sanctions and stronger humanitarian action. Conflicts in the Middle East are never abstract; they touch personal identities and family ties.
These two episodes illustrate Australia’s underlying challenges. In one case, Canberra acted against an adversary who violated its sovereignty; in the other, it acted against the wishes of an ally whose policies contravene international law and violate the Palestinian right to self-determination. Both decisions triggered charges of weakness and created a diplomatic headache for Canberra.
On one side, Israel expects solidarity against Iran and opposes Palestinian recognition. On the other, Iran seeks to exploit diaspora politics while claiming to speak for the Palestinians. Canberra cannot afford to be trapped by either; Albanese’s credibility depends on demonstrating that Australia’s actions stem not from expedience or external pressure but from a consistent adherence to the principles of self-determination abroad and sovereignty at home.
That is easier said than done. Upholding consistency requires absorbing diplomatic costs with Israel, retaliatory risks from Iran, and the domestic tensions that come from deeply anxious communities. Yet it is precisely in such moments of difficulty that principles matter most. If Australia is to claim a voice in the defence of international law, it must show that those principles are applied even when the choices are uncomfortable. Consistency is not the easy path, but in the long run, it is the only one that sustains credibility.
