They called it a culture war. But for many in diaspora communities, it felt more like friendly fire.
Over the past decade, the political backlash against “woke” politics has travelled across borders, speeches, referenda and dinner tables. Once dismissed as a fringe preoccupation of internet forums and shock-jocks, anti-woke rhetoric now steers party platforms and shapes election messaging in the United States, the United Kingdom and Australia. But while the loudest voices promise to fight cancel culture and restore common sense, a quieter realisation is setting in: backlash politics may have consequences that reach far beyond university campuses and corporate HR manuals.
In the United States, the charge was led during Donald Trump’s first term, when his plainspoken disdain for “wokeness” became a kind of political brand. That presidency did more than mock critical race theory or diversity training; it ushered in policies that hit immigrant communities hardest. Muslim bans, visa freezes, cuts to refugee intakes and restrictions on family reunification weren’t just slogans. For many in the Indian-American community who initially saw Trump as a strong ally—perhaps even a friend of India—those policies quickly soured the honeymoon. Visa delays and family separations made clear that admiration for Modi didn’t guarantee protection from anti-immigration zeal.
Polls from that era confirmed the shift. By 2020, only 22% of Indian Americans backed Trump. The rest, it seemed, were waking up.
Now into his second term, Trump has not let up on his anti-woke campaign. Conservative media remain fixated on cultural grievances, and state-level policies echo that agenda. But the earlier experiences of diaspora voters still colour how his politics are received.
Across the Atlantic, Britain brewed its own blend of culture clash. Brexit redrew trade routes, passports and the cultural narrative. The right rallied against the “wokerati,” the tofu-eating, Guardian-reading class accused of infecting everything from schoolbooks to policing. Prime ministers and Home Secretaries took turns ridiculing DEI policies, revisiting statues, and warning of an erasure of British history.
But even as ministers mocked inclusivity efforts, they pursued immigration policies that rattled the very communities once courted by the Conservative Party. The Rwanda deportation plan and growing hostility toward asylum seekers became the new front line. Indian diaspora voters, who had once helped push the Tories to new highs—partly driven by antipathy toward Labour’s Kashmir stance—began asking uncomfortable questions. Why were visa overstayers from India being singled out? Why did the previous Home Secretary, herself of Indian descent, cast doubt on an India-UK trade deal for fear of more Indian migration?
In Australia, the pivot was more polite but no less pointed. The Voice referendum in 2023 became a national test of conscience, pitting a modest constitutional change against a tsunami of cultural resistance. Opponents framed it as elite-driven “wokeism”. And when it failed, the anti-woke lobby claimed a mandate.
That victory reinvigorated conservative campaigns warning against diversity consultants, rebranded colonial education and identity politics. But it also sparked a countercurrent. Many Indian-Australians—once comfortable with Morrison’s curries and festive greetings—felt betrayed. The COVID-era India travel ban, which criminalised citizens returning from India during the Delta surge, was a breaking point. Suddenly, visibility wasn’t protection. Neither were selfies.
As Australia now heads to the polls on 3 May 2025, the battle lines are already drawn. Prime Minister Anthony Albanese, having kicked off his campaign, is positioning Labor on healthcare affordability and multicultural inclusion. Meanwhile, opposition leader Peter Dutton is anchoring his pitch in anti-woke rhetoric—promising to restrict migration, and reassert what he calls ‘mainstream Australian values’.
These episodes have opened a new chapter: diasporas in reassessment. The pattern is striking across three democracies. Minority communities once drawn to anti-woke rhetoric for reasons ranging from homeland pride to distaste for “lefty” politics are now reconsidering. The backlash, it turns out, didn’t just target statues or pronouns. It shaped migration policy, cut family pathways, shuttered DEI programmes and cast suspicion on diversity itself.
The shift is backed by data. In Britain, the Labour Party is regaining ground among British Indians. In the U.S., Indian-Americans remain firmly Democratic. In Australia, the 2022 federal election saw a clear swing to Labor in Indian-heavy seats, with many in the diaspora reacting strongly to the Morrison government’s handling of the India travel ban. Since then, Peter Dutton has taken the reins of the opposition and walked a fine line: engaging actively with Hindu community groups while also promising tighter migration controls and cuts to multicultural programmes. His recent remarks praising Trump’s leadership and saying a Trump administration would “work better” with him hint at a deeper flirtation with Trumpism. Meanwhile, Pauline Hanson has gone further, openly embracing Trump’s rhetoric and style—from immigration to identity politics—wearing the ‘America First’ message like a badge. For diaspora voters watching from below, the question now isn’t just who courts them, but what kind of country they’re being courted into.
Crucially, the discontent is existential. As diaspora voters grow in numbers and influence, they are asking what representation really means. Having ministers and MPs with Indian heritage, they are learning, doesn’t automatically secure inclusive policy. Rishi Sunak and Priti Patel didn’t stop the tightening of migration pathways. Nor did they temper the anti-woke fervour of their colleagues.
Backlash politics, in other words, may have overreached.
Polling supports the thesis. Most people—including those in ethnic communities—still say they value fairness, justice and awareness of discrimination. Few actually define “woke” the way the media caricatures it. A majority in the UK say it’s good to be alert to racism. In the U.S., young voters, especially from minority backgrounds, see “wokeness” as common decency, not indoctrination. In Australia, multicultural suburbs are pushing back against a politics that tries to pit inclusion against tradition.
This shift isn’t universal, nor is it final. Diaspora voters are not a monolith. Some remain drawn to tough-on-crime rhetoric or conservative economic policies. And within Indian diasporas, the influence of Hindutva continues to complicate alignments. But the pendulum, once swung decisively toward the anti-woke right, is now wobbling.
Even among those who once cheered for strongmen and plain talkers, there’s growing disquiet. That the policies they supported in theory ended up affecting their families in practice. That slogans about “taking back control” ended up taking away opportunity. That being toasted as a model minority didn’t prevent being treated as expendable.
In forums, newsletters, and WhatsApp groups, a new kind of conversation is taking place. Less about left vs right, more about fairness vs performance. Less about who looks like us, more about who works for us. For some, this is a slow political awakening. For others, it’s a reckoning with their own complicity in agendas that excluded others—until those agendas came for them.
As the next elections loom, the question is not whether anti-woke rhetoric will feature. It will. The real question is whether diaspora communities, having seen both the promise and peril of such politics, will take the bait again.
Maybe not. Maybe they’ve learned that respect isn’t served best with a side of curry and that real inclusion demands more than visibility. Maybe the era of voting for photo-ops is fading. And maybe, just maybe, tofu-eating isn’t the insult some politicians think it is.
What matters now is not the label, but the lived reality—and who ends up paying for the slogans and spin. For many, the awakening has been hard-earned.
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Anti-woke backlash politics in the US, UK & Australia has alienated diaspora communities with harsh immigration policies & cultural hostility. 🇮🇳 Indian-origin voters rethink conservative ties as rhetoric clashes with reality. 🤔 #TheIndianSunhttps://t.co/Nv0IrBWU3T
— The Indian Sun (@The_Indian_Sun) March 30, 2025
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