Wanting to preserve the Australian identity isn’t xenophobic – it’s essential

On 31 August, anti-immigration sentiment spilled onto Australian streets. Protesters waved placards and called for an end to immigration, framing newcomers as a threat to the Aussie way of life.

As a third-year law student at Monash University, born and raised in Melbourne to parents who immigrated to this country more than 40 years ago, I find this rhetoric troubling, not just on a personal level, but also on a national one.

At its core, the idea of being "anti-immigration" in Australia is contradictory. Modern Australia is a settler society ­– European settlement was, in essence, a massive wave of immigration, albeit one at the devastating cost of dispossession and violence against Indigenous peoples.

To position yourself as anti-immigration, while benefitting from the same events that took place in the past, is an irony too great to ignore.

But there is another truth worth confronting: wanting to talk about an Australian identity is not something that should be dismissed as xenophobic or politicised. Every nation is known for something, and Australia is no different. Democracy, giving everyone a "fair go", mateship, and a reckoning with Indigenous history are all central to how we define ourselves as a nation.

The question is not whether we should be apologetic of the Australian identity – but how to ensure that identity is preserved, shared, respected, and most of all – respected and enriched by migrants rather than ignored.

This is where my frustration lies.

Although I'm a child to immigrant parents, being born in this country means that I have grown up deeply connected to Australia. I was educated here, I will work here, and I will contribute here. I know what it means to value fairness, to appreciate Indigenous history and the significance of land, and to call myself proudly both Indian and Australian.

Yet, too often, when people like me say we are "Indian-Australian", it is met with ridicule – as though dual identities somehow make us less Australian. Where is the political narrative that educates this settler society and provides for second-generation immigrants, young people like me to stand firmly in both identities at once?

Nevertheless, in my own circles, I do see the challenges clearly.

Many young people I know that have recently come to Australia do not feel connected to an "Australian identity" in any real sense. They may embrace the opportunities Australia offers, but are unfamiliar with our values of mateship, the spirit of a "fair go", and the complexity of Indigenous Australian history that was introduced to me as early as primary school.

It isn't their fault – it's because we lack strong frameworks that help new migrants genuinely connect with Australia beyond the economic and social opportunities it provides.

I also do not see any initiative calling for migrants to assimilate to an Australian identity, YET, Australians are expected to understand other cultures and somehow pivot to their needs, "lest we offend".

How then, can we sit in silence when the Australian flag is burnt and trivialised to "just a piece of silk"?

Desecrating the flag, burning the flag, dismissing the flag is dismissing the very foundation of what it means to belong here – it is far more than just a piece of silk.

Respect for national symbols is part of fostering a shared sense of belonging – the Australian flag represents the values and history we collectively uphold.

As a law student, I call for the desecration of the national flag to be made a criminal offence. Perhaps, it is time to reaffirm our commitment to patriotism – not as a subject for ridicule, but as a shared responsibility to respect the symbols that unite us as a nation.

But here lies the paradox: those protesting in the streets decry migrants for not "fitting in", while Australia itself provides few pathways for migrants to form a genuine connection to this country. Rather, we call for migrants to live as separate communities with their own identities.

Integration should not mean cultural erasure; it should mean civic belonging – understanding our history, respecting democratic values, and committing to a shared future.

Economically, immigration remains one of the great engines of national growth. Newcomers fill skill shortages in healthcare, technology and construction, while also creating new businesses and jobs. From 2000 to 2021, more than half of new arrivals came through skilled migration streams. Needless to say, in a country with an ageing population like ours, the contribution of migrant communities is not optional – it is essential.

But of course, beyond economics, immigration will only succeed if it is tethered to a strong and inclusive sense of Australian identity.

So where do we go from here? The answer is not to shut borders, nor is it to deny that an Australian culture exists, which must be acceptable to all migrants.

Rather, we need deliberate frameworks that help migrants connect with Australia – through education about Indigenous history, our values of fairness and mateship, and our unique place in the world. Doing so would mean that being "Australian" is not reduced to a slogan, but lived as a civic identity shared by all.

Australia's story is, and always will be, one of diversity woven into a common identity. But affirming this does not mean abandoning the idea of an Australian identity. On the contrary, it means insisting on one – an identity strong enough to hold our history and clear enough that every newcomer has the chance to embrace it.

Anti-immigration protests miss the point entirely: what we need is migrants to first integrate and then assimilate, which has unfortunately been lost with the numerous waves of mass immigration within a very short period of time.

The focus should be on staggered immigration to ensure that those who arrive have the time to truly belong to our country.