The revelation that more than 230 potential terrorists are currently living in Australia under deradicalisation programs should have triggered a national reckoning.
Instead, it has produced a familiar mix of political reassurance, bureaucratic language, and an unspoken assumption that the public need not worry.
That assumption is wrong — and increasingly dangerous.
These are not abstract numbers. They represent individuals who have already crossed a critical ideological threshold, enough to place them on the radar of Australia’s most sensitive national security mechanisms. Yet even that figure understates the challenge. The official number does not include those who refused intervention, were deemed unsuitable, or remain unidentified. In other words, 230 is not the ceiling; it is the floor.
The public is often led to believe that once someone enters a deradicalisation program, they are “managed.” The reality, as counter-terrorism experts openly concede, is far less reassuring. Continuous, 24-hour surveillance of one high-risk individual requires dozens of personnel. Multiply that by 230, and the scale of the problem becomes obvious. Australia simply does not have — and has never had — the manpower to provide blanket monitoring.
ASIO Director-General Mike Burgess acknowledged as much in 2024 when he said his agency was “stretched” as radicalisation accelerated. That warning now looks understated. Since then, the security environment has deteriorated further, culminating in the Bondi terror attack, which killed 15 people and shattered the illusion that Australia’s geographic isolation offers meaningful protection.
Even more troubling is the demographic profile emerging from the data. One in three participants in deradicalisation programs is under 18. This is not a marginal trend; it is a structural failure. It points to online ecosystems, ideological networks, and social fractures that are radicalising Australians at younger ages, faster than the state can respond.
The ideological spread should also end the myth that terrorism is a single-issue problem. While religiously motivated extremism remains prominent, a significant proportion of cases involve nationalist, racist, misogynist, anarchist, and grievance-driven ideologies. This is a fragmented threat landscape, harder to predict and harder to disrupt.
The challenge does not end with intervention programs. Convicted terrorists are approaching the end of their prison sentences, including individuals with proven operational intent. While post-sentence detention and supervision orders exist, they rely on constant legal review, intelligence assessments, and — again — resources.
Here lies the uncomfortable truth: Australia’s counter-terrorism system is managing risk, not eliminating it. That may be the only realistic option, but it demands honesty with the public. Political leaders cannot simultaneously claim the system is robust while admitting agencies are operating at their limits.
This is not an argument for panic. It is an argument for realism. Counter-terrorism requires sustained funding, legislative clarity, technological investment, and — above all — political courage to acknowledge that the threat environment has fundamentally changed.
Pretending otherwise does not preserve social cohesion. It undermines it. And in a world where radicalisation is accelerating faster than prevention, complacency is not just naïve — it is negligent.
