When Robert Irwin lifted the Len Goodman Mirrorball Trophy on Dancing with the Stars in November 2025, something quite significant happened in Australia-US relations.
It wasn't a ministerial meeting or a defence pact signing. It was a 20-year-old from Beerwah, Queensland, wearing sequins and grinning the familiar Irwin smile, being crowned America's reality television champion.
A decade earlier earlier, his sister Bindi had done the same thing.
This isn't coincidence. It's soft diplomacy in action. And it's working precisely when formal international relations feel increasingly fragile.
Robert Irwin and dancing partner Whitney Carson (Photo by Eric McCandless/Disney via Getty Images)
The underdog who wasn't really an underdog
Robert's journey through Dancing with the Stars followed the arc Americans adore: the wounded underdog fighting his way to victory.
He was positioned as the vulnerable competitor in the final dance-off, the one who might not quite make it across the line.
Except he did make it, decisively, because audiences had fallen completely for the kid from Australia Zoo who spoke about wildlife with genuine passion and danced with self-deprecating pursuit.
The Irwin appeal transcends strategic positioning.
Robert and Bindi represent something American audiences find irresistible about Australians: genuine warmth without pretence, passion without cynicism, and that distinctly larrikin quality of approaching life with humour while remaining deeply committed to what matters.
They're regional kids made good, carrying their father's conservation legacy while conquering American entertainment. They're wholesome without being boring, ambitious without being calculating. In an era of manufactured celebrity and carefully curated personal brands, the Irwins feel refreshingly real.
Robert, Bindi and Terri at the Steve Irwin gala in Las Vegas (Ethan Miller/Getty Images)
Popular culture as diplomatic conduit
When political scientists discuss international relations, they typically focus on defence agreements, trade deals, and ministerial summits. Yet soft power , particularly through popular culture, does the quiet work of maintaining emotional connections between nations when hard diplomacy alone cannot suffice.
The Australia-US alliance faces complex contemporary pressures. Formal diplomatic channels navigate increasing pressures .
But while ministers negotiate and strategists plan, Australian performers keep winning American hearts.
The Irwins are simply the latest ambassadors in khaki and sequins, maintaining a cultural connection that predates ANZUS and will likely outlast whatever treaty comes next.
The larrikin pipeline from regional Australia
Australia's cultural exports to America share a pattern. They're often from regional areas, carrying an authenticity that translates across the Pacific precisely because it hasn't been polished away by metropolitan media training.
Simon Baker from Lennox Head became The Mentalist's charming lead.
The Hemsworth brothers grew up between Melbourne and Phillip Island before conquering Hollywood.
Russell Crowe emerged from regional New South Wales(ish).
Guy Pearce honed his craft in Geelong before LA Confidential and Memento.
Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban represent the country-meets-Hollywood crossover that Americans find compelling.
The current generation continues the tradition.
Margot Robbie transformed from Gold Coast local to the face of Barbie, the highest-grossing film of 2023.
Toni Collette's chameleon career spans from Muriel's Wedding to American prestige television.
Austin Butler channelled Elvis with an intensity that captivated American audiences.
Even the Bee Gees, decades before the Irwins, established the template: Australian performers who could dominate American popular culture while maintaining distinctly non-American sensibilities.
Liam Hemsworth with Freya Allan and Anya Chalotra at The Witcher Season 4 premiere in London (Photo by Karwai Tang-WireImage-GettyImages)
G'Day USA and the institutionalisation of culture
Since 2005, the G'Day USA program has formalised what was already happening organically. The initiative brings Australian arts, culture, and innovation to American audiences through events across the United States, particularly the annual G'Day USA gala in Los Angeles.
It's soft diplomacy with institutional backing, creating frameworks for cultural exchange that complement but don't replace the organic popularity of Australian performers.
The Irwins fit perfectly within this broader ecosystem. They don't need G'Day USA to be popular. Their father built that platform decades ago, but their success reinforces the message the initiative promotes: Australia punches dramatically above its weight in cultural influence.
For a nation of 27 million to maintain such prominent cultural space in a country of 300+ million suggests something beyond luck or talent.
It suggests systematic cultural compatibility, shared values expressed through entertainment, and the diplomatic work that popular culture accomplishes without anyone explicitly naming it as 'diplomacy'.
Why the larrikin works in America
There's a paradox at the heart of Australian success in America. The larrikin who is irreverent, anti-authoritarian, allergic to pretension, seems antithetical to image-conscious Hollywood.
Yet it's precisely this quality that American audiences find irresistible.
Perhaps it's because the larrikin embodies values Americans claim to cherish: authenticity, directness, humour in the face of adversity, levelling rather than hierarchy.
Robert Irwin, dancing his way to victory while talking about wildlife conservation and making self-deprecating jokes, perfectly embodies this.
He's accomplished without being intimidating, famous without being disconnected, passionate without being preachy.
He's the larrikin updated for a new generation - and America voted for him overwhelmingly.
Robert Irwin and Witney Carson at the Zootopia 2 premiere in LA (Photo by Axelle-Bauer-Griffin-FilmMagic-GettyImages)
When sequins become strategy
As the world fragments into competing spheres of influence and traditional alliances face unprecedented strain, the quiet work of cultural connection matters more than ever.
The Australia-US relationship will continue regardless of who wins Dancing with the Stars, but the emotional foundation that cultural exchange provides makes that relationship resilient in ways treaties alone cannot achieve.
The Irwins aren't consciously conducting diplomacy. They're doing what they've always done: sharing their passion for wildlife, being themselves, and treating massive opportunities with characteristic Australian enthusiasm.
That it also functions as soft power speaks truth to power. Maybe a stretch, but arguably it's how the most effective diplomacy often happens when people aren't trying to be diplomatic at all.
Robert Irwin's mirrorball trophy may end up somewhere in Australia Zoo now, companion to Bindi's.
They're symbols of American approval, certainly, but also markers of something larger: the ongoing cultural conversation between nations that keeps relationships intact when formal diplomacy alone might falter.
In an uncertain world, sometimes the kid from Beerwah in the sequined shirt does more for international relations than a dozen ministerial meetings.
That's not diminishing formal diplomacy. Rather, it's recognising that alliances are built on more than signatures and strategy.
They're built on connection, affection, and the accumulated good will of decades of cultural exchange.
The Irwins keep winning Dancing with the Stars. Australia keeps winning at soft diplomacy - and the larrikin, it turns out, remains one of our most effective ambassadors.
Dr Sarah Casey is a senior lecturer and discipline lead for Communication; Professor Deanna Grant-Smith is a Professor of Management.
