On August 31, major Australian cities, including Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Canberra, Adelaide, Hobart, and Perth, simultaneously saw anti-immigration demonstrations under the banner “The March For Australia.”

The organizers rallied around the slogan “Oppose Mass Immigration”, claiming that immigrants were crowding housing and economic resources. In Melbourne, about 1,000 people participated, while Sydney saw a much larger turnout of 5,000 to 8,000 people. Marchers waved Australian flags, chanted “Australia”, and some shouted exclusionary slogans like “Go back” and “Stop the invasion.”

For newly arrived immigrants—or even residents who have already settled—such scenes were not only confusing but also alienating. Prime Minister Anthony Albanese pointed out in an interview that apart from Indigenous Australians, all Australians are either immigrants or descendants of immigrants. Australia’s history is rooted in Indigenous culture for tens of thousands of years, while large-scale European colonization has profoundly shaped modern Australian society. In other words, many of the demonstrators themselves may be descendants of immigrants—so why do they hold such strong anti-immigrant sentiments?

Anti-Immigration Marches Driven by Far-Right Ideology

The “March For Australia” was partly triggered by the “March for Humanity” pro-Palestinian demonstrations on August 3. On that day, Sydney saw 200,000–300,000 participants, with similar rallies in other cities. The marches were marked by Palestinian flags, some waving Hamas banners, and even portraits of Iran’s Supreme Leader Khamenei. These scenes stoked anxiety among some citizens about “foreign immigrants,” setting the stage for the anti-immigration march.

The organizers of “March For Australia” identified themselves as “patriots” or “ordinary Australians,” advocating against “mass immigration” and for the protection of national culture and identity. They heavily promoted the event on social media platforms like TikTok, X, and Facebook, emphasizing “only wave the Australian flag, no foreign flags” and using “Defend Australian values” as a slogan.

However, the march quickly drew criticism from the government and public opinion as “spreading hatred and dividing society.” One reason is the organizers’ links to far-right forces. According to the ABC, their website once cited the far-right white nationalist concept of “remigration”—calling for the large-scale deportation of non-European immigrants—and even featured pro-Nazi and Hitler memes. Although later removed, this suggested underlying far-right tendencies.

Controversy deepened with the public involvement of the neo-Nazi group National Socialist Network (NSN), which promotes white supremacy and anti-Semitism and openly idolizes Hitler. While organizers claimed they were only encouraging various groups to participate, NSN rhetoric and online platforms were easily co-opted by neo-Nazis and racists. On the day of the march, some NSN members shouted “Australia is for white people” and stormed Melbourne’s “Camp Sovereignty,” a symbolic Indigenous protest site, trampling flags and extinguishing sacred fires, accompanied by blatant racist slogans. This led mainstream media to label the march as far-right or even fascist.

A glaring contradiction arose: if the march’s core concern was social pressure from too many immigrants, why did some participants target Indigenous Australians and ethnic minorities? What could have been a debate on immigration policy turned into a stage for neo-Nazis exploiting social anxieties to promote white supremacy.

Moreover, the anti-immigration marches, under the guise of “patriotism,” unwittingly made some participants tools of neo-Nazi propaganda. For extremist groups, the immigration issue is just the easiest emotional lever; their true goal is to incite racial hatred and further divide society.

The Complexity of Participants’ Motives

The crowd was not monolithic. Besides hardline nationalists, there were residents genuinely concerned about the cost of living, including long-settled immigrants. In Sydney, when a speaker emphasized that “defending culture and lifestyle is not hatred,” the crowd cheered. But when a self-proclaimed “Australian white” leader called for a “new wave of nationalism,” some immediately voiced disapproval, shouting “This is hate speech!” and many left early. This demonstrates that even under the same “patriotism” slogan, legitimate grievances and extremist ideology coexist—highlighting the deep divisions within Australian society.

Notably, some first-generation immigrants participated in the anti-immigration march. They often distinguished between “low-skilled” or “illegal” migrants, whom they claimed could not integrate into Australian society, versus high-skilled or wealthy immigrants, whom they welcomed. This selective standard reveals hypocrisy: criticizing vulnerable groups from a position of relative advantage is still a form of xenophobia, and essentially, hate.

Perceptions vs. Reality of Immigration in Australia

Concerns over “mass immigration” were amplified during the “March For Australia”. Organizers emphasized worries over housing and economic resources but never clearly defined what “mass immigration” means. Australia has always been a nation of immigrants, and the perception of “too many immigrants” may not align with reality.

Data shows immigration has not continuously surged. According to the 2021 census, there were about 550,000 residents born in China, a 72% increase over a decade—but growth slowed to just 8% in the past five years. The Muslim population rose 70% between 2011 and 2021, but only from 2.2% to 3.2% of the total population. These groups remain a minority nationally, though their concentration in Sydney and Melbourne amplifies social perceptions.

The pandemic also played a role. Border closures temporarily reduced the number of international students and immigrants, but once borders reopened, net overseas migration (NOM) spiked to 340,000, mostly concentrated in Melbourne and Sydney. This compounded housing shortages and rising living costs, fueling social anxiety.

The Lowy Institute’s June 2025 national survey found that 53% of Australians believed immigration levels were “too high,” up 5% from the previous year; 38% saw it as “appropriate,” and only 7% said “too low.” Anxiety about “too many immigrants” is real—but the root issue may lie in chronic shortages of housing and infrastructure.

Population Growth and Pressure on Social Resources

According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics, net migration reached 446,000 in the year to June 2024, including 207,000 international students mostly on temporary visas. This population inflow strains public healthcare, education, transport, and social services: emergency wait times rise, classrooms are overcrowded, and public transport becomes congested. These pressures fuel public concern and skepticism of government planning.

However, the problem isn’t simply “too many immigrants,” but the gap between population growth and infrastructure planning. During the pandemic, net migration fell below zero, yet housing prices continued to soar, and healthcare and education systems remained under pressure. The post-pandemic rebound pushed net migration above 500,000 in 2023, largely from returning students and temporary workers. The challenge is whether government planning and investment can keep pace with population change.

Following the anti-immigration protests, the federal government announced on September 2 that the 2025–26 permanent migration program would maintain 185,000 spots, focusing on skilled migrants and family reunification. To “manage student numbers more sustainably,” the international student cap will rise to 295,000 in 2026.

From July 1, 2024, the government ended the 485 visa extension policy: bachelor’s and master’s graduates can stay a maximum of 2 years, research masters and PhDs up to 3 years. English proficiency requirements and visa fees increased. Previously, many 485 visa holders could extend automatically, even without permanent residency prospects, swelling the temporary resident population. Many worked low-skilled, low-wage jobs, further stressing social resources and labor markets.

The Labor government is gradually addressing these issues to better align immigration levels with resources. If measures succeed, gaps between population growth and social infrastructure could ease.

The Role and Contribution of Immigrants

Three common complaints about immigrants are: they depress wages, take jobs from locals, and drive up housing prices. While simple and catchy, these claims do not hold up to scrutiny.

Immigrants support key sectors in Australia. Healthcare has long faced labor shortages; international medical staff fill gaps. Technology, engineering, and IT sectors rely on overseas graduates for skills and innovation. Immigrant entrepreneurship creates jobs, benefiting locals and other migrants, fueling economic growth. Immigrants often sustain employment markets rather than “steal jobs.”

New migrants do face challenges, including language barriers, cultural adjustment, and job competition. Attributing employment pressure solely to immigrants ignores the difficulties they endure.

Regarding housing, data shows that during the pandemic, when immigration was at a century-low, house prices still soared—indicating that low interest rates, investment demand, land shortages, and rising construction costs were the main drivers. Population growth contributes to demand but is not the primary cause of high prices.

Anti-Immigration Sentiment and Australia’s Challenge

Immigration policy in Australia is both an economic necessity and a sensitive social issue. The anti-immigration marches exposed this tension: peace and violence, legitimate concerns and extremist ideology coexist.

As Federal Minister for Multicultural Affairs Anne Aly noted, far-right and neo-Nazi groups exploit real anxieties about housing and cost of living to spread hatred and xenophobia. Historically, blaming immigrants for housing and infrastructure issues has precedents—without clarification, such tendencies risk repeating.

The government also bears responsibility. Immigrants from diverse backgrounds have long been part of society, and associated issues are not new. Overreliance on specific source countries, inadequate regulation of international students staying on temporary visas, and lack of systemic planning for third-country immigrants are policy gaps. These delays turn structural problems into simplified “immigration issues,” which extremists exploit. Without improving resource allocation and planning, anti-immigration sentiment will deepen societal division.

In the long term, Australia’s true challenge is not simply “too many immigrants,” but balancing population pressure with multicultural integration. The historical White Australia Policy left a deep xenophobic imprint. Today, the government must strengthen housing and infrastructure planning and promote education and multicultural understanding to genuinely achieve the ideal of a diverse, inclusive Australian society.

Medisafe, developed by Pan Xichun, daughter of international liver cancer expert and honorary professor of surgery at the University of Hong Kong Pan Dongping, has participated in multiple major Hong Kong and international innovation competitions and won awards. However, it was challenged by Hailey Cheng, a second-year student in Computational Mathematics at City University of Hong Kong, who questioned the originality of the project, suggesting that Pan commissioned an AI company to develop Medisafe and entered it into competitions. This sparked months of controversy over “ethics and authorship.” Recently, Pan Dongping and his wife Peng Yongzhi issued a statement expressing willingness to relinquish Medisafe’s awards, though it remains unclear if this will temporarily end the months-long storm.

A Talented Young Student

Last year, Pan Xichun, a first-year student at the prestigious Saint Paul’s Co-educational College (SPCC) in Hong Kong, won numerous local and international awards for her AI project Medisafe. She received the Hong Kong ICT Award: Student Innovation Award, the Jury’s Special Commendation, and returned with honors from the Geneva International Invention Exhibition, earning media recognition as a “prodigy” and “future star of AI in healthcare.”

Medisafe is an AI-driven web application designed to assist hospitals and clinics in processing large volumes of prescriptions and connecting different medical departments, providing cross-hospital AI-assisted services for patients. The system cross-checks medications and patient databases to automatically verify allergies, long-term medications, and clinical conditions. It alerts medical staff if potential prescription or dosage issues are detected. In interviews after winning awards in April, Pan Xichun stated that the idea for Medisafe arose from news about medication errors. She emphasized that no similar system exists on the market that automatically compares prescriptions with patient medical records, claiming Medisafe as a first-of-its-kind concept.

Pan Xichun’s broader talents also highlight her capabilities: at 13, she founded a volunteer organization serving the community and earned recognition for musical talents. Previously, she created a system linking smart insoles to a mobile app to monitor hikers’ conditions and issue alerts, demonstrating creativity. Her outstanding performance from a young age is likely influenced by her family background, as her parents are established social elites.

Traditional Chinese educational philosophy stresses the role of parents and teachers as cultivators: “If a child is raised without proper teaching, it is the parent’s fault; if the teaching is not strict, it is the teacher’s laziness.” Pan Xichun’s early talents suggest her parents invested considerable effort in nurturing her abilities. From this perspective, it is hard to see why Pan Xichun’s parents should face criticism.

From Winning Awards to “Ethics Controversy”

The situation shifted quickly. On June 13, Hailey Cheng, a second-year student in computational mathematics at City University of Hong Kong and an undergraduate researcher in computational biology, posted on Threads questioning whether the project was solely Pan’s work. She also raised concerns about potential patient data leakage to third parties, citing privacy risks. This drew public attention: logging into Medisafe directed users to the AI Health Studio (AIHS) website, indicating clients included Pan Dongping and his brother Pan Dongsong’s Hong Kong Hepatopancreatobiliary and Colorectal Minimally Invasive Surgery Center. Subsequently, Medisafe became inaccessible.

As the controversy grew, AIHS co-founders issued a statement clarifying that in March of the previous year, they had been commissioned by Pan Dongping’s wife, Peng Yongzhi, to produce a Minimum Viable Product (MVP) for Medisafe. They emphasized the product was developed from scratch, with Pan Xichun providing only the initial idea, and that they were never informed it would be submitted to competitions.

Concerns arose over why an American AI company was hired. Peng Yongzhi explained that to prevent the concept from being copied or commercialized by others, she independently contacted the company in March of last year to explore developing a commercially viable product. In the same month, they were commissioned to develop the MVP for business feasibility verification. Competition organizers stress that entries must be original concepts created in Hong Kong, with participants holding intellectual property rights or legal ownership, and requested a full investigation by the Hong Kong Education City and the Standard Assurance Committee. Hong Kong Gifted Education Academy and Education City later confirmed that the platform was an original concept and that all awards would be retained. Nonetheless, controversies continued.

The Elite Mindset: Winning is Everything

In Hong Kong, a highly market-driven education system combined with entrenched social stratification makes competition extraordinarily fierce from the start. Children must not only learn early but also rely on substantial resources. Parental social status determines access to elite education, financial strength secures top-tier teachers, and extensive networks help package résumés. Education has become a precision investment: money, time, and strategy are invested, with expected returns in connections, résumés, platforms, and academic advancement. The Medisafe controversy offers a glimpse into this reality.

On a broader social scale, the Medisafe incident exposes a deep fissure in Hong Kong’s educational system: in a “competition-first” and “résumé-driven” environment, education becomes a theater for packaging success. The controversy is less about a “fallen prodigy” and more about public disillusionment with the “elite replication mechanism”—where awards reflect parents’ resources, connections, and wealth. Whether Pan Xichun is truly a genius or whether her family’s resources propelled her beyond societal expectations is now a topic of public debate.

Parents Step In

Recently, Pan Dongping and his wife announced they would relinquish all awards associated with Medisafe, citing their daughter’s mental and physical well-being as the priority. They acknowledged shortcomings in handling the situation, apologized for the disruption, and reaffirmed that Medisafe was Pan Xichun’s original concept. They also reserved the right to pursue legal action against false claims and malicious attacks online. Their statement reflects a protective parental stance, though it also reveals an elite mindset perceiving the world as being against their daughter.

In recent years, more than 4,000 Hong Kong students have participated in STEM competitions. Some schools even coach students “to win awards,” outsourcing development or fabricating research. This highlights the disparities in resources among families and raises questions of educational fairness. Education has become a contest of family background, capital, and packaging skills. The question arises: should children’s early growth aim to cultivate independent thinkers, empathetic and responsible individuals, or to produce elite performers following their parents’ scripts?

The Long Road Ahead

The most unfortunate aspect is the impact on Pan Xichun herself. Legally still a minor, she was thrust into a public controversy amplified by online discourse—a situation far beyond what a student should endure.

Online, critics labeled her actions as “academic fraud” or “winning awards through financial resources,” largely based on subjective assumptions without factual basis. STEM competitions are designed to encourage creativity and effort, not to judge minors by strict academic standards. Many online critics likely have no personal involvement in such competitions, but sensationalism elevated their importance beyond reason.

Pan Xichun’s parents hope relinquishing the awards will calm the storm, citing her extreme distress from online bullying. Rumors suggest she may take a year off school. Her recovery from this mental strain will vary and may leave long-term impacts. It is regrettable if public emotional venting hinders the development of an exceptionally talented young person.

However, the parents also criticized Hailey Cheng, asserting she was not a “well-intentioned whistleblower.” In reality, whistleblowers aim to raise public awareness, and their motives need not be “good-willed.” Critiquing social mechanisms often prompts backlash, but this does not invalidate whistleblowing. Cheng consistently updated the situation online since June, reportedly facing online and real-world harassment, including anonymous threats, which is also unacceptable.

After Pan’s parents announced relinquishing the awards, Cheng noted that their decision was not due to competition rules or originality disputes but primarily to protect their daughter’s health, highlighting how formal mechanisms often fail while online discourse pressures change. This reflection raises questions: can evidence, rules, and facts truly drive investigations, or only public pressure and online debate? Elite families may perceive rules and evidence as tools to climb social ladders—until public scrutiny, particularly online, challenges their arrogance.

When competitions intended to promote innovation and discover young talent become contests of academic resources and connections, one must ask: how much space remains for ordinary children to advance? Family legacy requires generational continuity, but when social mechanisms reinforce inequality and disregard basic fairness, whistleblowing deserves attention.

On September 3, China’s military parade drew global media attention. However, an even more intriguing moment occurred when Russian President Vladimir Putin and Chinese President Xi Jinping walked side by side toward the viewing platform for the parade. A live microphone unexpectedly captured a conversation through a translator, in which the two leaders discussed organ transplants as a means for humans to achieve “eternal life” and speculated that humans could potentially live to 150 years old in this century. Once the media reported it, it sparked widespread commentary. During a press conference later that evening, following a four-day visit to Huawei, Putin confirmed that the conversation had indeed taken place when asked about it by a TASS reporter.

The Unexpectedly Leaked Conversation

During the celebrations of the 80th anniversary of the end of World War II in Beijing, Xi Jinping and Putin were overheard discussing organ transplants as a method for prolonging life. According to audio captured from an open microphone and translated, Putin even suggested that “immortality” could become a reality through innovations in biotechnology. At the press conference, he cited United Nations data, noting that by 2050, the global population aged 65 and over would outnumber children aged 5 to 6, warning that this would have social, political, and economic consequences. “When we talk about life expectancy, we should also consider this,” he added.

This conversation was caught on China Central Television’s live broadcast as the leaders—alongside North Korean leader Kim Jong-un—walked across Beijing’s historic Tiananmen Square. The three long-tenured leaders of China, Russia, and North Korea casually discussed the topic of longevity, a discussion that naturally raises eyebrows, especially regarding organ transplants amid international controversy. In 2005, China officially acknowledged that its organ transplants came from executed prisoners. In 2012, the China Organ Donation Administrative Center was officially established. By 2014, China announced it would stop using organs from executed prisoners, making civilian donation the only legal source. Over the years, China has claimed to have created a system for organ donation and distribution. Yet, in reality, very few citizens voluntarily donate, and the true sources of organs remain largely unmonitored.

Beyond ethical concerns about organ sources, medical experts question claims that humans could live to 150, citing no scientific evidence. Reports indicate that Putin personally has a keen interest in longevity, tasking his health ministry with making life expectancy extension a “top priority.” One of Russia’s largest state enterprises, Rosatom, revealed last year that it is developing technology to “print” human organs. Currently, there is no evidence that sequentially replacing organs can extend human lifespan. The human brain ages as well and cannot be replaced. Yet the conversation before the parade shows that both leaders appear to view organ transplantation as a key to longevity. In mainstream medicine, organ transplants are intended to save patients with failing organs—not to extend life.

Western Tech Giants’ Perspective

Many Western tech giants also invest in life-extension research, though their focus is not on organ donation but on slowing or reversing aging. Jeff Bezos (Amazon), Peter Thiel (PayPal, Palantir), Larry Ellison (Oracle), Sergey Brin and Larry Page (Google), Sam Altman (OpenAI), and Mark Zuckerberg with Priscilla Chan (Meta) are investing in cellular reprogramming, anti-aging research, stem cell cultivation, and cancer treatment, hoping to find ways to combat lethal diseases or reverse aging.

These efforts may contribute to extending human lifespan but are not about achieving “immortality.” Western societies, influenced by Christian thought, generally leave the question of eternal life to God. Humans’ attempts to prolong life are thus framed as occurring within divine limits. Conversely, leaders like Putin and Xi, rooted in communist ideology, embrace the belief that humans can conquer nature, making it easier for them to imagine achieving “immortality” themselves.

Interestingly, Elon Musk and Bill Gates seem less interested in immortality. Musk has publicly expressed skepticism about anti-aging research, even opposing it, arguing that longer lifespans could stagnate society. His investments instead focus on space exploration, AI, and neurotechnology (e.g., Neuralink). Gates, while funding global health and aging-related research via the Gates Foundation, emphasizes public health and prevention over personal immortality.

In short, these tech leaders focus more on societal progress than on personal life extension.

The Obsession with “Immortality”

In Chinese history, the earliest myths of humans seeking eternal life appear in the story of Hou Yi and Chang’e in the Moon Palace. Hou Yi, after shooting down nine suns and becoming an emperor, sought immortality from the Queen Mother of the West. He obtained a potion, but Chang’e consumed it to prevent the tyrant from gaining eternal life, ultimately ascending to the moon alone. The second famous pursuit of immortality was by Qin Shi Huang, the first emperor of China, who allegedly sent Xu Fu with children to seek the elixir of life in Japan, leaving behind only the massive Terracotta Army. Subsequent emperors across the Han, Tang, Song, and Ming dynasties frequently died from consuming “immortality” elixirs containing heavy metals.

These stories suggest that humans in absolute power often equate eternal life with the desire to maintain their authority.

Why Do Dictators Crave “Immortality” More Than Others?

A dictator’s greatest fear is not economic collapse or public dissatisfaction—but death. Death prevents them from signing decrees, attending meetings, or continuing as the “great leader of the people.” This fuels their obsession with immortality. Behind this fantasy lies systemic corruption and imbalance: power is concentrated, justice is compromised, and resources are controlled by a few. The leaked Xi-Putin conversation, while casual, signals a shared ambition for prolonged rule. Both leaders have been in power for over a decade (Xi 13 years, Putin 25) and are 72 years old this year. Putin’s 2020 constitutional amendments allow him to remain in office until 2036, when he will be 83. Xi has not publicly discussed longevity as openly but appears to want to remain in power, with no apparent heir designated.

The “Relaxed” State Reserved for the Powerful

In recent years, the Chinese term “songchi” (loosely “relaxation” or “serenity”) has gained popularity online. It describes calmness and composure, a mental state of letting go when one cannot change circumstances, and reconciling with reality. But in the real world, after recovering from the multi-year COVID-19 pandemic, people face a stagnating global economy and ongoing regional conflicts. Where are they supposed to find “serenity”?

This accidentally leaked conversation reveals a corner of the “relaxed” state unique to absolute rulers. While citizens deal with economic instability, delayed wages, and tight social controls, leaders like Xi and Putin casually discuss immortality, viewing a parade as just another morning event. This is the “relaxation” exclusive to dictators, achieved at the cost of the entire populace.

Currently, there is no evidence that sequential organ replacement extends lifespan, and the brain inevitably ages. But does that matter? What matters is the message it conveys: monopolistic world leaders enjoy round-the-clock medical access and priority organ transplants. By contrast, the World Health Organization notes that globally, over 130,000 organ transplants are performed annually, yet many patients die waiting, potentially hundreds of thousands. Notably, Reuters recently removed the video of Xi and Putin discussing organ transplants, explaining that China Central Television revoked permission for its use, though they maintain that their reporting was accurate.

While the controversy over the video is fading, the event reflects the shared worldview of the China-Russia-North Korea alliance and their leaders, serving as a long warning bell for Western democracies.