“Strong leaders don’t measure themselves by how little criticism they receive. They measure themselves by how well they withstand it. Politics isn’t for those seeking comfort or protection from scrutiny. It’s for those prepared to defend their ideas, answer difficult questions and let the public judge.”
It’s against that standard that I increasingly find myself questioning Pauline Hanson.
Based on her reactions, comments and approach to media scrutiny, I’m starting to think Pauline Hanson has something of a glass jaw. She demands accountability from governments, political opponents and the media, yet appears far less comfortable when the scrutiny is directed at her.
That’s politics.
Applying these democratic principles directly to Pauline Hanson and One Nation illustrates why restricting interrogative media poses a risk to effective self-government. Across her political career, Hanson has maintained a tense relationship with news outlets that challenge her policies, frequently barring specific reporters—including journalists from the ABC, The Guardian Australia and Nine newspapers—from party briefings, while also advocating the abolition of SBS and significant cuts to the ABC.
This is not an isolated incident or an emotional response to a single unfavourable story. It reflects a pattern extending over many years. In 2017, ABC journalists were excluded from One Nation’s Western Australian election headquarters while other media organisations were admitted. During the 2026 Farrer by-election campaign, ABC journalists were again denied access to a One Nation media event. Most recently, journalists from the ABC, The Guardian Australia and The Age were barred from a Melbourne press conference announcing One Nation’s Victorian candidates because the party considered their reporting biased.
Many Australians support reducing or even abolishing taxpayer funding for the ABC and SBS. Their concerns are not without foundation. Critics argue that political reporting and current affairs programming can, at times, reflect institutional bias or blur the distinction between objective journalism and opinion. Others point to governance, editorial decisions and questions of value for money.
I have some sympathy for those arguments. However, I also recognise that both organisations produce a great deal of high-quality content beyond political commentary. Their emergency broadcasting, regional reporting, educational programming, arts, science, documentaries and cultural coverage provide services that commercial media often cannot or will not deliver. Like every media organisation, they produce some outstanding journalism and some reporting that deserves robust criticism.
The broader issue is not whether public broadcasters should exist or how they should be funded. That is a legitimate policy debate. Nor is it whether journalists should be immune from criticism—they should not be. The real question is whether any government or political leader should decide which journalists are permitted to ask questions simply because they dislike the outlet they represent.
That principle cuts both ways. Many conservative voters believe the ABC and SBS exhibit political bias. Many progressive voters believe commercial outlets such as Sky News Australia, News Corp or Nine display bias in the opposite direction. Bias, whether real or perceived, is not resolved by excluding journalists from the democratic process. It is resolved through greater transparency, editorial accountability, competition between ideas and allowing the public to weigh competing narratives for themselves.
Taxpayers fund public broadcasters regardless of how they vote. No section of the community has a greater claim over those institutions than another. Likewise, no political leader should expect only sympathetic questioning or favourable coverage. In a healthy democracy, governments are accountable to all Australians, and journalists—whether from the ABC, SBS, The Guardian, Nine, News Corp or any other legitimate outlet—should be free to ask difficult questions. Those questions can be challenged, corrected or rebutted, but they should never be silenced.
If a political leader with this mindset were to form government, the democratic consequences could emerge in three important ways.
First, excluding or blacklisting critical outlets creates a chilling effect throughout the media landscape. When journalists see colleagues denied access for asking difficult questions, newsrooms may begin to self-censor to protect their access to government briefings. The inevitable result is softer reporting and fewer decisions subjected to rigorous public scrutiny.
Second, allowing governments to choose which media organisations may question them undermines public confidence in democratic transparency. When access depends on favourable coverage rather than equal treatment, citizens have greater reason to question whether they are receiving objective information or carefully managed political messaging.
Third, shutting out investigative journalists fragments the electorate. As Australians retreat into separate information silos, voters are deprived of the broad range of facts and competing perspectives needed to make informed democratic choices and hold governments accountable at the ballot box.
This isn’t about agreeing with journalists or defending every story they publish. Newspapers, broadcasters and commentators get things wrong. They have biases. They make mistakes. They often blur the line between reporting and opinion. They should be challenged when they do. But challenging journalism is fundamentally different from deciding which journalists are allowed to ask questions in the first place.
Every political leader faces criticism, hostile questioning and unfavourable reporting. Tony Abbott endured years of relentless attacks over everything from policy to personality. Scott Morrison was subjected to sustained criticism throughout the pandemic and beyond, with his handling of events such as the Black Summer bushfires and the COVID-19 pandemic attracting intense and often highly personal commentary. Peter Dutton has likewise been the subject of consistently hostile coverage from parts of the media, with criticism frequently extending beyond policy into character and personality.
Reasonable people can disagree about whether every headline, editorial or television segment was fair. That isn’t the point. The point is that none of those leaders attempted to solve the problem by deciding which journalists were entitled to ask questions. They answered them, disputed them, criticised them and, at times, simply endured them.
Whether media coverage is fair is almost beside the point. Political leadership has never come with a guarantee of favourable headlines. Sometimes reporting is accurate. Sometimes it is opinion dressed up as analysis. Sometimes it is simply wrong. Every leader has to live with that reality.
I would make exactly the same argument if Anthony Albanese, Peter Dutton or Adam Bandt began excluding journalists because they disliked the questions being asked. Democracy isn’t protected by friendly interviews. It is protected by allowing difficult questions to be asked—especially of those who hold power.
The answer to journalism you disagree with is better journalism, corrections where necessary, and robust public debate—not deciding which journalists are entitled to ask questions.
If you’re prepared to scrutinise everyone else, you should be equally prepared to accept scrutiny yourself. That’s not persecution; it’s accountability.
A politician’s true character isn’t revealed by how loudly they criticise others. It’s revealed by how they respond when the criticism comes back at them.
