For years, Australia's political and university elite have repeated the same line: that international education is our "third-largest export" and an untouchable pillar of the economy. But scratch the surface, and the reality is far murkier. The oft-quoted $51 billion figure is more sleight-of-hand than sound economics—and is doing more harm than good to our society, institutions, and sovereignty.

Here's why it's time to retire the fantasy and confront the truth.

The $51 billion figure cooked up by the ABS includes everything international students spend in Australia, including rent, food, transport, and tuition—even if that money was earned here.

Yes, you read that correctly: if a Bangladeshi student flips burgers in Melbourne and spends that income on rent, we're calling it an export. It's nothing of the sort. It's local economic activity—recycled Australian income—not foreign earnings flowing into the country.

Even the ABS admits about 25% of this spending comes from work done inside Australia, but the real number is likely much higher, thanks to widespread cash-in-hand jobs and gig economy exploitation.

It gets worse. While we're busy counting every dollar students spend, we're ignoring what they send out of the country—often to repay loans taken to fund their studies.

In 2023, Australia saw $8.6 billion in net remittance outflows, much of it from temporary visa holders, including students. These repayments are imports, pure and simple. Failing to offset exports with these outflows is like running a business and ignoring half your expenses.

This isn't just a bookkeeping problem. The education-migration pipeline is now Australia's de facto low-skilled work visa scheme. Students come not primarily for education, but for work rights, with many angling for permanent residency.

The results?

  • Wage suppression in entry-level and service jobs.
  • Overcrowding in housing and public infrastructure.
  • A downward spiral in academic standards to keep the revenue tap open.

This is not a thriving export industry—it's a population-loading program with side effects.

Our top universities have become financially addicted to foreign student revenue. Entry requirements are routinely gamed. Academic misconduct is rife. Degrees are handed out as transactional credentials rather than earned qualifications. I know; I see this corruption and fraud every day.

The universities know exactly what's going on, but they've chosen revenue over reputation. That's not just short-sighted—it's institutional decay.

When migration policy is shaped by the cash needs of universities, we lose control over the system. Try tightening visa rules, and the sector howls about "economic damage." But the true damage comes from letting a broken system run unchecked.

Worse still, by inflating the numbers and misleading the public, we risk collapsing trust in both higher education and immigration—two pillars of a cohesive society.

International education does bring some foreign income. But the true net benefit is nowhere near $51 billion, and the hidden costs—economic, social, and institutional—are mounting.

This isn't about xenophobia or shutting borders. It's about honesty in public accounting, integrity in higher education, and sovereignty in immigration. If international education wants to be treated as a serious export, it needs to behave like one.

Until then, let's call the $51 billion headline what it is: a politically convenient illusion.