There is a specific brand of nausea reserved for witnessing the global sycophancy tour, and currently, it’s Australia’s turn to step onto the scale and be weighed by the unwashed thumb of Steve Bannon. The man who looks like he’s perpetually emerging from a week-long bender in a damp basement has seen fit to bestow his blessing upon the land down under, announcing that Australia is back in the ‘good books’ of the Trumpian orbit. It is a terrifyingly banal revelation. To be in the ‘good books’ of a movement that views governance as a reality TV elimination round is akin to being the favorite goldfish in a house owned by a toddler with a magnifying glass. The sheer, unadulterated desperation of the Australian political class to be noticed by the American populist machine is matched only by the condescension of men like Bannon who treat sovereign nations like franchise opportunities for their particular brand of aesthetic chaos.

Bannon’s thesis is that Australia has ‘restored its image’ post-COVID-19. One must wonder what image he thinks was restored. During the pandemic, the American Right viewed Australia as a dystopian hellscape, a cautionary tale of what happens when you let the government tell you that you can’t have a barbecue during a plague. Now, apparently, all is forgiven because Australia has once again proven its utility as a strategic landing strip for American ambitions in the Pacific. It’s a classic case of selective amnesia. The MAGA-sphere’s memory is shorter than a goldfish on Xanax; yesterday’s authoritarian nightmare is today’s ‘absolutely central’ ally, provided they continue to buy our submarines and nod politely when we scream at clouds. The reality is that Australia hasn’t changed; the narrative requirements of the American populist grift simply shifted. They needed a new protagonist in their tired melodrama about global freedom, and the Aussies were the only ones still picking up the phone.

But the real sting, the true acid in Bannon’s praise, is the caveat: ties would be ‘even stronger’ if Australia had its own MAGA-style government. Here we see the true goal—the homogenization of global idiocy. Bannon isn’t interested in Australian sovereignty; he’s interested in a mirror. He wants to see the same performative outrage, the same manufactured culture wars, and the same rejection of nuance that has turned American discourse into a dumpster fire fueled by lead paint. He looks at Australia and sees a missed opportunity for a charismatic demagogue to convince a nation of rugged individualists that their biggest threat isn’t the rising sea levels or the collapsing housing market, but perhaps some obscure academic theory or a rainbow flag in a library. It is the ultimate intellectual colonisation—exporting the American brain rot to a continent that already has enough venomous creatures to deal with.

Australia’s current leadership, of course, plays the middle manager's game, trying to remain 'central' without getting too close to the blast radius of Bannon’s rhetoric. They are the quintessential 'sensibles,' a group of people so allergic to vision that they treat any movement with a heartbeat as a PR crisis to be managed. On the other side, the Australian Right looks at Bannon with the hungry eyes of a younger sibling begging for a turn on the Xbox. They want the magic; they want the ability to turn grievance into a lifestyle brand. They don't realize that in Bannon’s world, they aren't partners; they are assets. They are the 'useful idiots' in a geopolitical chess game played by people who don't actually know how the knights move but are very good at throwing the board across the room when they're losing.

In the end, this isn't about Australia’s image or post-COVID recovery. It’s about the terrifying realization that the world’s most powerful nation is no longer led by policy, but by vibes. And currently, Australia’s vibes are deemed acceptable by the high priest of the disheveled. It is a miserable state of affairs. We are watching the slow-motion car crash of international relations, where the only metric for success is how well you can flatter the ego of a movement that doesn't even know your capital city. Australia should be wary. Being in the ‘good books’ is a precarious position; the pages are thin, the ink is toxic, and Bannon is the type of author who likes to burn the manuscript before he’s even finished the first chapter. But who cares? As long as the submarines are ordered and the press releases are glowing, the rot can continue unabated. The world isn't ending with a bang or a whimper; it’s ending with a podcast guest appearance and a thumbs-up from a man who hasn't seen a salad since the Reagan administration.