Is it time to take Pauline Hanson seriously?

Is it time to take Pauline Hanson seriously?

Last week in Melbourne, Pauline Hanson received a standing ovation at the Melbourne premiere of her "anti-woke" film, A Super Progressive Movie, something unparalleled in a state where Labour has been in leadership for 20 of the last 25 years, so what is going on?

Thirty years ago, on Anzac Day, west of Brisbane, I found myself accidentally attending a ceremony I had not planned to join.

A handful of people stood around a war memorial, engaged in what appeared to be a modest, respectful commemoration. I pulled over, joined quietly, and assumed the kind of anonymous civic participation that comes with such occasions. Then a large black limousine arrived. Several television cameras followed. And out stepped Pauline Hanson.

At the time, she was best known as a former fish shop owner who had unexpectedly won a safe Labour seat and immediately detonated polite political conversation. She was framed as an aberration: populist, polarising, unsophisticated, and deeply inconvenient. Standing beside her, nodding respectfully, suddenly felt like an act that might require explanation to future employers.

I scrambled away.

At the time, this reaction felt entirely sensible. Pauline Hanson was not someone one was seen with. She was something to be endured, explained away, or dismissed as a temporary political rash.

Fast forward three decades, and the rash has not only persisted, it has also developed a voting base, a brand, and a polling trajectory.

So the question must be asked, preferably through gritted teeth at a boardroom table: is it time to take Pauline Hanson seriously?

This week, a Canadian Prime Minister stood at Davos and solemnly declared that the “natural world order” has been shattered. Two decades of financial crises, energy shocks, pandemics, and geopolitical instability have undone the comfortable assumptions of post-Cold War politics. The centre no longer holds, and everyone is shocked except the people who have been saying it wouldn’t.

Who would have thought that Donald Trump would move from oddity to world power, threatening Greenland with acquisition like a mid-career executive collecting distressed assets? Who would have thought Nigel Farage routinely described as far-right, racist, and disruptive, would see his Reform Party surge ahead of both Labour and the Conservatives in late-2025 polling?

And who would have thought Pauline Hanson would still be here?

Yet here she is. Morgan polling shows One Nation surging at the Coalition’s expense. The reported addition of Barnaby Joyce adds further momentum, if not clarity. The political class, once again, appears surprised by voters doing exactly what they have repeatedly said they will do.

Leaving policy aside and many prefer to, it is worth examining Pauline Hanson from a less comfortable angle: leadership presence.

From a gravitas perspective, she possesses three qualities many polished leaders quietly lack: commitment, consistency, and congruence.

Her commitment is unswerving. Time in jail did not soften her stance or redirect her cause. Public ridicule did not dilute her message. Thirty years of sustained criticism would break most people. Hanson absorbed it and continued, unchanged. One may disagree profoundly with her views, but stamina of that order is not common currency in public life.

Her consistency is equally confronting. There has been no pivot, no reinvention, no rebrand. Her message today is indistinguishable from her message 3 decades ago. While mainstream politicians pirouette between talking points, Hanson has never left her lane. Confusion is not her problem. Everyone knows exactly what she believes.

And then there is her communication style, often mocked, rarely understood.

As a body language and voice specialist, I am frequently asked why I have never tried to “fix” Pauline Hanson’s delivery: the tight throat, the shallow breathing, the quaver under pressure. The answer is simple. It is perfectly congruent with her message.

The body is a physical mirror of psychological state. The voice is its printout. Defensive beliefs produce defensive physiology. Under perceived threat, the back of the neck tightens, breath shortens, and the voice develops a hard twang. Pauline Hanson does not sound strained by accident. She sounds exactly like someone defending territory.

Her famous phrases, “Please explain”, “I don’t like it” - are not rhetorical flourishes. They are physiological outputs. Under extreme stress, the voice shakes because the system is under load. And yet, strangely, this makes her, under her circumstances, with her political stance, trustworthy.

Trust is often misunderstood as warmth or polish. It is neither. Trust can be built from commitment, consistency, and congruence. Hanson has all three in abundance.

Imagine, instead, if she spoke with the smooth, relaxed tone of a professionally media-trained politician. Something would feel off. The mismatch would erode belief. Her power lies precisely in the fact that what you see, hear, and believe align.

This does not make her right. It makes her real.

And in an era where voters increasingly distrust refinement, perhaps reality is enough.

So yes, watch this space.

It may be time, inconvenient as it is, to take Pauline Hanson seriously.

Note: My observations say nothing about my voting preference. I am merely throwing a light on a situation to help understand.

Let me know your thoughts. 

Love,
Dr Louise Mahler