If you’re looking to the United States for hints on how young Australian men will vote in the upcoming federal election, you might find yourself puzzled by their apparent shift towards conservatism. Young people drifting right isn’t a US-only trend – it’s happening across Europe, Canada, and even in Tunisia, Taiwan, and South Korea.
But in Australia, the picture is mixed. Long-term trends show both men and women shifting left, though young women at a faster pace. Yet recent polls find 37 per cent of men aged 18–34 back the opposition leader of the conservative Liberal-National Coalition Peter Dutton, compared to 27 per cent of women.
Is this cause for alarm? What does this support actually mean? Does Australia even have a hardline populist leader to rally these men? And does backing the Coalition equate to embracing Trump-style hard-right values?
With Millennials (aged 29–44) and Gen Z (aged 13–28) growing as voter blocs, many feel disillusioned, seeing institutions fail to address their biggest concerns – cost of living, climate change, housing, and mental health. Unlike past generations, today’s young people are younger for longer. They are delaying traditional milestones – home ownership, marriage, and parenthood – while experiencing greater economic precarity.
Today, both men and women are more politically disillusioned compared to previous generations, but the global trend is that the sexes are moving in opposite directions.
Yet more are university educated, in the workforce, LGBTQI+, culturally diverse, and secular. Many distrust political parties and institutions, wanting government action but doubting its ability to address critical challenges that fall heavily on their generations. This frustration is fuelling an anti-system backlash, especially among young men who are increasingly sceptical of progressive politics.
However, the idea that young men are simply struggling to adapt to modern times is outdated. They grew up in households where women worked and in societies where gender roles were already shifting. Their frustrations stem not from cultural change itself but from economic realities – stagnant wages, rising costs, and dwindling opportunities – breeding political apathy that the far-right is eagerly turning into anti-system rage.
Today, both men and women are more politically disillusioned compared to previous generations, but the global trend is that the sexes are moving in opposite directions. This divergence isn’t just about ideology – it’s about whose struggles are being recognised. With women’s concerns gaining political traction, some young men are feeling scrutinised and sidelined, seeing few champions for their anxieties about status, purpose, and financial security. Their issues seldom enter mainstream discourse, and some feel they are paying the price for the offences of older men, accumulating “demerit points” simply for being male.
Enter the supply side: figures such as Joe Rogan and Andrew Tate offer these young men validation, community, and a sense of belonging. Podcasts, with their unfiltered, intimate appeal, create a space where the men feel heard – especially as mainstream institutions fail to address their disorientation.
This “drift” is characterised by a loss of motivation driven by weakening social ties, educational disengagement, and economic stagnation. The far-right is capitalising on this malaise, offering a mix of nostalgia and rebellion that resonates with young men looking for purpose. While some of this shift is fuelled by reactionary culture wars, the root causes – economic precarity, loneliness, and fear of obsolescence – run much deeper.
An analysis of Gallup surveys shows that young American men are more conservative (31%) than liberal (24%), though most (43%) sit in the middle. In Australia, it’s a different story. Analysis of 35 years of data in the Australian Election Study (AES) highlights that Gen Z men have trended further left than older men. Voting data backs this up: in recent elections, young men have voted for left-wing parties at much higher rates (see figure).
One might argue that Australia’s compulsory voting system obscures signs of gendered polarisation. Or that, unlike the United States or Europe, there’s no strongman populist leader channelling this frustration yet. And I’d argue that support for Peter Dutton isn’t equivalent to backing Pauline Hanson or Clive Palmer – Australia’s closest Trump-like figures.
With young men dominating Australia’s booming podcast scene, these platforms offer grounds to turn quiet discontent into reactionary politics.
Admittedly, Dutton is using podcasts to connect with young men, tapping into culture war themes and anti-woke sentiment. This strategy might be working – recent statistical modelling shows 53% of male voters back the Coalition over Labor (47%). With young men dominating Australia’s booming podcast scene, these platforms offer grounds to turn quiet discontent into reactionary politics. Australia’s stricter media regulations help curb these risks, but they can’t eliminate them entirely.
Fortunately, Australia isn’t as polarised as the United States (yet). Here, issue-based politics dominates: voter support for the Coalition, for example, could stem from discontent on how the current Labor government has handled one’s issue of most concern – it could be economic management, migration, or housing. There’s little evidence of a mass rightward shift in Australia – and youth politics has always been cyclical, reacting to the failures of the status quo rather than rigid ideology.
So, how we talk about this matters. Now is the time to discuss the growing and unhelpful narrative of young men as a looming reactionary force – a discourse that is harmful, divisive, and fails to address real concerns.
