As Labor anticipates a likely second term—probably minority, but possibly majority
government—the usual narratives will dominate: seat tallies, leadership battles, and the
crossbench makeup. But for those interested in the long arc of political change, the deeper story lies in where swings occur, especially in increasingly rare ‘safe’ seats. Is Anthony Albanese’s party still that of the working class? Or, as Peter Dutton has boldly claimed, are the Liberals now the battlers’ home?

Beyond the Teal vs Liberal and Labor vs Greens showdowns, the real political fight lies in
the fibro-and-mortgage belts of our outer suburbs and regions. Here, a historic class
realignment is taking shape, chiefly among the majority of Australians without university
degrees. These aren’t just tactical battlegrounds, but the epicentre of a global shift in political tectonics.

The political left across the West is grappling with its weakened covenant with working
people. They historically formed the bedrock of Labor’s membership, identity, culture,
values, and policies. Increasingly, they feel ambivalent or are casting ballots for Liberals, One Nation, or Clive Palmer’s latest vanity project. Meanwhile, Teals have stormed conservative urban heartlands, echoing Labor’s earlier knowledge-class losses to the Greens. French economist Thomas Piketty tracks this shift globally: left-wing parties increasingly draw support from urban, educated, cosmopolitan voters. The right, meanwhile, absorbs parts of the old working class through appeals to nationalism over globalism, and anti-elitism.

Labor will retain power through preferences, inner-city gains, and tactical campaigns. But at what cost? Class remains politics’ central—if ignored—fault line. The idea that it’s irrelevant in a globalised, post-industrial world is empirically wrong and electorally dangerous. 

Today’s working class is more than stereotypical blue-collar male workers. It is multi-ethnic and multi-faith, it can be highly progressive but small ‘c’ conservative, it less unionised, and is now dominated by women. It includes tradies, gig workers, casuals in logistics, retail and the care economy. Many are renters rather than homeowners. Discontent is expressed against other generations of Australians and a visceral disdain of the political establishment.

This is most visible among young men in outer suburbs and regions, expressing a potent mix of economic despair and cultural alienation. They feel excluded, unheard, and sense Labor speaks fluently to inner-city progressives but not to them. The Liberals serve up empty platitudes and zero hope. Here’s where MAGA-style politics thrives. Across the Anglosphere, the radical right taps into alienation. It speaks to the frustration and resentment felt by those who believe the system no longer sees them. It’s not just race or immigration weaponised by a ruthless social media algorithm —it’s about loss of male dignity and meaning.

Focus groups of voters aged 18-44 convened by Redbridge Group for the John Curtin
Research Centre reveal this vividly. Economic anxiety dominates. Young men and women
alike described “treading water”. One participant spoke of the frustration of being able to
save and plan while living at home, only to see it vanish upon moving out, even after a pay
rise.

Among young men in regional Queensland, material frustration fused with status anxiety,
gender grievance, and democratic disillusionment. They admire Donald Trump not just
politically but symbolically: he is masculine, patriotic, unbowed. It’s not about strongman
worship. These men feel the crushing weight of expectation and long for the Australian
dream of their fathers and grandfathers: a good job, home ownership, and self-respect.

Gender and racial equality were often framed in zero-sum terms: progress for women is seen as coming at men’s expense. “The ball always swings the other way,” one participant
lamented, asserting that equality for women has tipped into inequality for men. Another,
more bluntly: “It feels like my whole life we’ve been told it’s not okay to be a white man.”

Mental health was a dominant concern. The lack of fulfilment—financial, social,
emotional—has left a vacuum. Trump and his imitators are rushing in to fill it. Where
Australian politicians are seen as weak, beholden, and compromised, Trump for these men appears decisive, immune to social mores, and thrillingly transgressive. One participant put it starkly: “He’s actually making things happen … I’d vote for someone like that here.”

By way of comparison groups of young men surveyed in NSW and Victoria shared similar
economic concerns but rejected Trumpism. They worried about inequality, housing, and
climate change. They expressed collectivist instincts and spoke positively about unions,
gender equality, diversity, and viewed politics as a potential force for good.
Class realignment is a slow-motion shifting of tectonic political plates. But unlike the
physical world, electoral shifts are not irreversible. They can be countered—or
accelerated—by choices parties make and how deeply they listen to those who feel most left behind.

Whatever the election outcome, Labor’s future depends on reading the shifting tectonics. The best lessons are drawn from triumphs not bitter defeats. Modern Labor’s broader base is a strength, but it can’t come at the cost of outer-suburban and regional working people – or failing to connect with not just their needs, but who they believe they are and long to be.