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My work as a promoter of Australian international education across South Asia means that I tend to hear the way policy announcements made months or years before in Canberra echo through the questions that students, parents and education agents subsequently ask me.

They don’t ask what Australia’s ideal net overseas migration (NOM) figure should be. They ask whether Australia is still a safe and affordable place to send their son or daughter, whether an Australian degree will still be respected by Nepali employers, and whether there will still be an opportunity to gain professional experience after graduation.

They are aware that the mood music around international students in Australia is changing. The Labor government is net overseas migration of 245,000 in 2026–27 and 225,000 in 2027–28. The Coalition 100,000 in 2028–29 and 2029–30, before moving to 130,000 and 160,000. has proposed three years of net-negative migration and a reduction of more than 750,000 temporary visas. And international students have become a prominent part of the argument about how reductions, of whatever size, can be achieved.

Consider how that argument sounds from the other side of the world. Parents may have spent years saving or have liquidated family assets to send their child thousands of kilometres away, into a different academic system, labour market, rental market and culture. There is ambition in that decision, but also vulnerability. They are not simply purchasing a course. They are placing considerable trust in a country and its institutions. For that reason, predictability matters almost as much as rankings or marketing.

Parents still ask me, “Is Australia good?” But, increasingly, they also ask, “Will the rules change again after my child arrives?” That is a very different question, and it should concern everyone who wants Australia to remain a first-choice destination.

International education was worth almost to the Australian economy in 2025, according to the Department of Education. But if the argument begins and ends with export income, defenders of international education will make the same mistake as those who see students only as migration numbers: reducing young people to a balance-sheet item.

The deeper value is accumulated over decades. A graduate who returns to Nepal, India, Bangladesh, Indonesia or Vietnam may later lead a company, work in government, build a professional practice, invest, trade with Australia or send the next generation to study there. Those relationships are difficult to price, but they are part of Australia’s economic diplomacy and soft power.

Yes, international students use housing and infrastructure. A larger population creates additional demand, and governments are entitled to align migration with the country’s capacity to accommodate people. But international students did not design Australia’s planning system, determine land release, set construction capacity, decide infrastructure investment or create the long-term shortage of housing supply. Nor are they the central reason for a structural housing problem, so cutting down on them, or on their post-study work opportunities, is a poor solution.��

Wanting a period of professional experience after an Australian qualification is not the same as demanding permanent residency. Australia can set boundaries around that opportunity. As well as time limits, it can impose English, age and qualification requirements, target areas of need, prevent indefinite movement between temporary visas and require people to depart if they do not qualify for another visa.

Yet the Coalition proposes abolishing the temporary graduate visa for most graduates, retaining transitional visas only for narrowly specified groups (including PhD graduates, health and education students and students at regional universities). The parties’ aim is to reduce temporary graduate visa overall awards from 271,200 to 10,000 by 2031–32. That scale of change would inevitably affect how prospective students evaluate Australia.

No responsible provider or education agent should promise an international student permanent residency, and Australia is entitled to change its migration rules when national circumstances change. But, in doing so, it has a moral obligation to think about people who made major life decisions under an earlier framework. A line in a policy document can alter the future of a 22-year-old who has already spent years and substantial family resources building an Australian education. Clear communication, reasonable notice and transition arrangements are all vital to retaining confidence.

A humane approach is also needed in response to Australia’s genuine integrity problems in international education. The answer should be stronger and more intelligent enforcement: remove bad providers, act against dishonest agents, refuse fraudulent applications, enforce academic and attendance requirements, stop artificial course hopping and investigate organised abuse. But genuine students should not become collateral damage in the effort to fix behaviour they did not engage in.

Last month, Australia announced a ban on most students except research postgraduates bringing their dependants. That, of course, is a copy of the UK’s existing policy, and it is true that other anglophone nations are cracking down on graduate visas, too. Even , which aims to double the value of international education from NZ$3.6 billion in 2024 to NZ$7.2 billion by 2034 (and allows students to work a week during study), has recently seen a spike in study visa refusals. But anglophone nations are not Nepalese students’ only options.

I keep coming back to the same image: a family sitting around a table in Kathmandu, Delhi, Dhaka, Colombo, Manila, Hanoi or Jakarta, deciding where a young person should spend the next four years of their life. Countries rarely lose an education market in a single announcement. They lose it slowly: one family changes its mind, one successful student advises a younger cousin to go elsewhere, one agent becomes less confident recommending Australia, and one cohort of high-quality students starts looking at another destination first.

This is why Australia should look beyond the next NOM target. It should ask what kind of international education system it wants in 10 or 20 years. And in protecting the integrity of its borders and education system, it should also protect something that took decades to build: the belief, across our region, that Australia is a serious, welcoming and dependable place to be educated.

Once that trust is lost, lowering migration numbers may prove much easier than raising them up again.��

Mukesh Dhamala is a promoter of international education, based in Nepal. For the past 10 years, he has been actively advocating for Australian education across South Asia and working closely with students, families, education agents and education providers.