Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Georgia van Toorn, Senior Lecturer in Public Policy and Politics, UNSW Sydney

This week the government unveiled plans to reduce the number of people in the National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS) by 160,000 over the next four years, a decision NDIS Minister Mark Butler has called “hard” but “unavoidable and urgent”.

This reduction will rely on tightening the eligibility criteria.

A new assessment tool, likely based on an algorithm, will work out how much someone’s disability affects their daily life – known as their “functional capacity”.

Under the new rules, the threshold to access NDIS support will be higher. This means the day-to-day impact of disability will need to be more severe for someone to be eligible.

So what does functional capacity actually mean, and how will it be used to work out who’s eligible? Will diagnosis still play a role? Here’s what we know – and still don’t know – about the new system.

Functional capacity is not new

The concept emerged in the mid-20th century as a way of capturing what a person with disability can do in everyday life, rather than focusing only on impairment or diagnosis.

This approach – which moves away from narrow, medicalised definitions of disability, to understand how social and environmental factors shape a person’s level of functioning – is also endorsed by the World Health Organization.

Functional capacity is already central to determining eligibility for the NDIS. To meet the threshold, a person must demonstrate their disability is both permanent and substantially reduces their capacity to carry out everyday activities. This might include taking a shower, eating and drinking, moving about, and interacting with others.

The government says the reforms move the NDIS away from the “diagnosis gateway”, meaning functional need will determine who gets support and at what level, rather than a diagnosis.

However, establishing permanence and functional capacity is still required by the legislation. In practice, this is difficult without reference to a specific diagnosis, meaning it is likely to remain a key point of assessment.

But the threshold will be higher

Tightened eligibility will make it harder for some people, particularly those with low to moderate support needs, to access funded supports.

Let’s consider an example. Currently, a child with level one autism who experiences challenges with social interaction and independent self-care skills would have a reasonable chance of accessing NDIS supports, through the early intervention pathway.

Under the new system, that child may need to demonstrate needs consistent with level three autism to be eligible. For example, they may need to demonstrate difficulties with daily routines such as dressing or eating without assistance, engaging safely in social settings, or coping with changes in routine.

Without meeting that threshold, they might instead be expected to rely on mainstream supports, such as school-based supports, or the not-yet-operational Thriving Kids program.

Read more: No diagnoses and no gap fees for physios and speechies. What else do we know about Thriving Kids?

Some disabilities, such as deafblindness, tend to be more readily recognised as meeting the functional capacity threshold.

Other disabilities are likely face greater scrutiny in assessment – in particular, those that are less visible, harder to quantify, or fluctuating or episodic, or such as many psychosocial disabilities. These are impairments caused by mental health conditions such as bipolar disorder, schizophrenia or post-traumatic stress disorder.

What’s coming next

The government has not detailed exactly how functional capacity will be assessed. Butler has indicated the new assessment tool will be developed over the coming months, ahead of its planned rollout from January 2028.

As part of this process, the government will establish a technical advisory group to advise on eligibility thresholds. It has promised to “engage with the community” – although when and what this will involve remains unclear.

While we have little detail on the design of the tool, one thing Butler has specified is that the new test will be “standardised”. Typically, this means a rules-based system in which a computer algorithm applies fixed criteria to determine outcomes.

A similar approach has been announced for NDIS planning supports, for people who have been deemed eligible. The controversial new tool for support plans, called I-CAN, will be introduced on April 1 2027. It has already stoked concerns that opaque algorithms are increasingly shaping decisions about who gets support and who is left out.

So while we don’t know exactly what kind of “standardised” tool will be used to assess a person’s functional capacity, we have a glimpse of what might come.

The challenge of standardising need

Such tools can be effective at containing costs. But when applied to something as complex and nuanced as disability, they often fail to give a full picture of individual needs.

When this happens, the consequences show up elsewhere in the system, for example, in rising, costly and time-consuming challenges at the Administrative Review Tribunal over poor-quality support plans. These challenges are happening even before I-CAN has been implemented. The current system has some elements of automation – and it look as though this is only set to increase.

The shift to a more needs-based approach to assessment is a welcome one. But its effectiveness will ultimately depend on the integrity of the assessment tools and, crucially, the professionals using them.

Where computational systems are used to support decision-making, they must be carefully designed to augment professional expertise and be flexible enough to accommodate individual circumstances.

Aged care offers a cautionary example. In a system aged care workers describe as “cruel” and “inhumane”, experienced assessors have little scope to override algorithms with a proven track record of failing to capture need, leaving people without access to essential care.

There are legitimate concerns the NDIS may be heading in a similar direction.

If algorithms are going to determine who gets support and who goes without, then the entire apparatus – including the algorithm itself, its modelling, classification rules and training data – must be open to scrutiny.

And before the new system is rolled out, people with disability must be at the table shaping its design.

– ref. NDIS eligibility will be based on ‘functional capacity’, not diagnostic labels. But what does that mean? – https://theconversation.com/ndis-eligibility-will-be-based-on-functional-capacity-not-diagnostic-labels-but-what-does-that-mean-281319

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Lina Przhedetsky, Postdoctoral Research Fellow, Melbourne Law School, University of Melbourne and ARC Centre of Excellence for Automated Decision-Making and Society, The University of Melbourne

One of Australia’s most-used tenancy application platforms has breached privacy laws, Privacy Commissioner Carly Kind has ruled.

2Apply, owned by InspectRealEstate, is a third-party platform that has processed more than 8.5 million tenancy applications.

The commissioner launched an investigation into 2Apply in March last year. In a landmark determination published this week, she found that over a five-year period, 2Apply had interfered with consumers’ privacy by collecting unnecessary personal information via unfair means.

The landmark determination puts the booming rent tech industry on notice, and will help protect renters’ rights. But it must be complemented by further legislative reform.

An expanding industry

The rental technology – or rent tech – market has been expanding.

Rent tech platforms are websites or mobile apps designed to facilitate one or more aspects of the rental process – such as submitting maintenance requests, paying rent, or conducting digital inspections.

There are many different rent tech platforms. Released in March 2020, 2Apply is one of the most commonly used.

Collectively, these platforms have drawn considerable scrutiny due to the amount of personal data they ask renters to hand over.

In 2023, the National Cabinet committed to strengthening the protection of tenants’ personal information. However, progress has been slow.

In research published in January, my colleagues and I found that application platforms enabled real estate agents to request more than 50 types of information.

There’s also evidence some applicants have been asked for marriage certificates and credit information, while others report being asked to prepare CVs for their pets.

Breaching privacy principles

The Privacy Commissioner found 2Apply had breached two of the Australian Privacy Principles.

One of these principles (3.2) says that entities to which the Privacy Act applies must not collect personal information unless it’s reasonably necessary for their functions or activities.

The commissioner identified the processing and management of tenancy applications as 2Apply’s core operations. She considered what types of personal information would be reasonably necessary for these purposes. She found that certain personal information – including gender, rent and bond assistance status – did not meet this threshold.

This determination will be difficult for other rent tech platforms to ignore.

Significantly, the commissioner acknowledged the collection of such information could increase the risk of discrimination against applicants. Although there is growing evidence of discriminatory algorithms in the private rental sector, proving that discrimination has occurred can be challenging.

Minimising the amount of information collected is essential to minimising the risk of discrimination occurring in the first place.

The second principle (3.5) requires that personal information is collected only by fair and lawful means.

The commissioner assessed whether 2Apply had followed this principle with reference to what’s known as “online choice architecture”, taking into account the design, structure, and way information was conveyed through 2Apply’s digital application form.

She deemed 2Apply’s use of certain tactics was unfair.

One of these tactics is known as biased framing. This refers to the practice of presenting choices in a way that emphasises their supposed benefits or downsides so as to encourage consumers to act in ways that will benefit the business – not necessarily themselves.

For example, the 2Apply form says providing personal information will “help speed up your application process”. Conversely, it also says not providing the information may “affect whether you are considered as a suitable tenant for the property”. The commissioner said these statements, while not necessarily untrue or misleading, suggest the volume and type of personal information provided are indicators of an applicant’s suitability as a tenant.

Tactics like this haven’t been adequately addressed by existing consumer protections, despite ample evidence of digital platforms being designed to manipulate or place undue pressure on consumers.

A bill currently before federal parliament is intended to address unfair trading practices that manipulate or unreasonably distort consumers’ decision-making practices. But it’s noteworthy the commissioner deployed the Privacy Act to address these harms.

The commissioner also found the circumstances in which 2Apply collects personal information are characterised by significant power imbalances, limited choice and security risks relating to the real estate sector. She added:

In the absence of any legislated right to housing, the competitiveness of the current rental market means that individuals are at a disadvantage when trying to rent a home and are more vulnerable.

The commissioner directed 2Apply to stop collecting unnecessary personal information within 60 days. She also required that the platform must appoint an independent privacy expert to review its practices.

The Conversation contacted InspectRealEstate for comment.

Systemic change is needed

The commissioner emphasised the need for other rent tech providers to improve their privacy practices.

But there is a risk these providers won’t heed this advice. More needs to be done to protect renters’ rights.

The Privacy Act’s protections must be strengthened. They must also be complemented by robust laws at the state and territory level that are specifically targeted at the rental tech sector.

Some jurisdictions – including Queensland, South Australia and Victoria – have taken the first steps towards strengthening the protection of renters’ personal information under residential tenancies law. Other jurisdictions must follow.

A promising bill is currently awaiting debate and passage in NSW. If legislated, it could offer some of Australia’s strongest protections.

But after being introduced in June 2025, it appears to be in limbo, leaving NSW renters without adequate safeguards.

– ref. Landmark privacy determination puts rent tech platforms on notice. But renters remain vulnerable – https://theconversation.com/landmark-privacy-determination-puts-rent-tech-platforms-on-notice-but-renters-remain-vulnerable-281320

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Helen Wolfenden, Senior Lecturer in Radio, Macquarie University

If the news of former ABC Sydney radio presenter James Valentine’s death hit you hard, and you’re wondering why, it makes sense to me.

For many listeners, the strange part is not just the grief but having to account for it. He wasn’t your friend. Or was he? He wasn’t someone you’d meet for coffee. And yet it can feel like that kind of relationship. The sense of loss is real.

I’m in that position too. I didn’t know James personally. I knew him the way listeners do, through the radio. I did speak to him once, years ago, when I was a junior broadcaster trying to get better at the job. He agreed to talk to me about how he thought about his work in a project that became a PhD.

What struck me then, and has stayed with me since, is how clearly he understood his connection with his listeners. He understood it was a strange asymmetrical relationship, but that didn’t mean it was one-sided.

The first question I asked him was how different he was off-radio compared to on. He told me:

I don’t think [it’s] very different at all. People walk up to me in the street and start talking to me like they’re my friend and in fact they are. They are my friend. I don’t know them very well but they know me extremely well.

He didn’t see this as something mistaken. He understood how the relationship worked and it was as important to him as it was to his listener. It wasn’t something to correct. He had a way to hold the tension. He told me:

I conceive of them as a collective mass, one at a time.

A relationship over the airways

The affection James had for his listeners was genuine. “I love the audience. They’re my people.”

It might not look like other kinds of reciprocal friendship, but for James the connection wasn’t abstract or imagined – it drove the way he made radio.

What mattered to him, he told me, was what the program did for listeners in the middle of the mundane. To lighten the load. To make people laugh. To bring a bit of joy, or, as he liked to say, whimsy, to an otherwise unremarkable afternoon.

“It’s all about them,” he said. “If I make it all about them, I get my jollies.”

Listening back to the interview now, what also comes through is how deliberate that way of being on air actually is. It sounds easy, like someone simply talking. But that’s the work. As he put it,

you become experienced at drawing on yourself … finding the bits that you’re comfortable about bringing in […] well aware of the areas you don’t want to touch upon.

Knowing what to say, what to leave out, how much of yourself to bring in and how much to hold back. Done well, a voice starts to feel familiar. Part of the rhythm of the day. Something you return to without really thinking about it.

There is a word for this kind of relationship: parasocial. It’s used to describe that sense of friendship you feel with someone on the radio or TV. But we don’t often get to hear about it from the other side. What came through in the way James talked about his work was that he understood it and valued it.

As a listener it can feel weirdly one-sided. You know a lot about someone who doesn’t know you at all. But that isn’t how he understood it. He knew exactly what was going on. He knew you knew him. And he knew you were real. Not in some abstract sense, but as a person who had made space for him in their day, who had let his voice become part of their routine.

He could only ever encounter his audience as a collective, one at a time. But he didn’t reduce them to that. He worked with the relationship as it was.

It was about the listener

When I asked him what he takes from the work his answer was simple. It was about the listener. Sometimes people told him “I love it when you’re back after the holidays”. Or “I missed you the other day”. Or “I’m always happy when I’ve got to do the laundry at that time because I know I can listen to you”.

James’ response to that was:

Thanks! That’s a pretty good thing to carry away … you create a great lasting sense of having done something for somebody that’s quite a nice thing to have done.

It can feel strange to grieve someone you never met. To try to make sense of why it matters. But from what he told me, I don’t think James Valentine would have questioned it. He understood the relationship he had with you, and he took it seriously. He recognised it. So if it feels real, that’s because it is.

– ref. ‘They’re my people’: radio presenter James Valentine truly understood and valued his audience – https://theconversation.com/theyre-my-people-radio-presenter-james-valentine-truly-understood-and-valued-his-audience-281339

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Susan Carland, Lecturer, School of Social Sciences, Monash University

Three days ago, People magazine posted a clip from an interview with actor Anne Hathaway, who is currently on a global press tour. One of the questions concerned Hathaway’s feelings about ageing. In her response she – a non-Muslim – casually threw the word “inshallah” in mid-sentence.

The reaction was big. The clip quickly went viral, with the incident reported on Al Jazeera, Grazia, and HuffPost, among others. Why has this moment struck such a chord with Muslims and Arabs worldwide?

So what does it mean?

Inshallah (also transliterated as “insha’Allah” and “inshaallah”) is an Arabic term that means “if God wills” or “God willing”.

The term is most commonly associated with Muslims, as the explicit exhortation to use “inshaallah” appears in the Quran, a revelation Muslims believe was first received by Muhammad in 610 CE.

Chapter 18, verses 23-24 instructs people not to say “I will do that in the future” without adding “inshaallah” – if God wills. Muslims regularly use the phrase in daily life as an affirmation that, ultimately, everything is under divine – not human – control.

The term is not exclusive to Muslims, however. Christian Arabs (particularly those that live among Muslims) will also regularly use it, as will other people from different communities (including non-religious people) living in Muslim countries.

‘Inshallah’ and pop culture

While the expression has a long history, and is meant to symbolise humanity’s submission to the divine will, its less lofty colloquial use is covered online.

Some Westerners who move to Muslim-majority countries have expressed their frustration at inshallah being used as a euphemism for “no”, when a person wants to avoid giving firm negative answer. Similarly, Muslim teens have made plenty of social media posts complaining about the relatable experience of their parents hiding behind “inshallah” when they really mean “no”. In this context, it’s more of a gentle letdown wrapped in divine decree.

In recent years, we’ve seen several notable uses of the term by non-Muslims living in the West. Drake, for instance, used it in his 2018 song Diplomatic Immunity.

In 2020, Joe Biden invoked inshallah during his presidential debate with Donald Trump, when Trump was asked about his tax returns. Biden’s sarcastic tone implied he didn’t mean it in its literal sense.

The Muslim community’s response to Hathaway’s use of inshallah has been overwhelmingly positive, even if a small number are cynically viewing it as a publicity stunt targeting Arab and Muslim markets.

But most users are loving it, calling her “Anne Halal-away”, “Sister Anne-shallah Hathaway”, and “inshaAllah my princess of Genovia!!!”

It can be confusing to unfamiliar onlookers why some off-hand comments by celebrities can receive praise, and others vitriol.

Meme culture as a mode of belonging

So why has Hathway’s use of inshallah landed so well? To answer this, it helps to understand meme culture, as well as the shared experiences of modern, Western Muslims.

Take, for example, this highly memeified photo of a flyer stuck to a noticeboard advertising a “halal family movie night” for “Finding Nemo 2”.

At first glance, this photo (thought to originate in 2021) is unremarkable.

But it has the key ingredients to break from the confinement of its target audience (Muslim families wanting a movie night) and captivate broad sections of the internet, including non-Muslims. Namely, the endearingly amateur clip art design, the wholesome idea of a “halal movie night”, and the earnest and now iconic tagline, “inshallah they find him”.

“Inshallah they find him” has launched into many new memes, solidifying and ingratiating the phrase to countless online users over years.

Hathaway’s “inshallah” also came in highly primed online environment.

Last week, the official Sesame Street social media accounts posted Elmo enthusiastically learning Arabic phrases from actor Ramy Youssef. Elmo learned “habibi” (“darling” or, as Elmo calls it, “special friend”) and “asalaamu ‘alaykum” (the Islamic greeting, “peace be upon you”), to the delight of many Muslims and Arabs.

These terms are important and beloved to many Arabs and Muslims. While only a minority of global Muslims are Arabs, Arabic as the language of the Quran is a lingua franca that binds Muslims through ritual practice.

When can non-Muslims use such terms?

Earlier this month, Trump posted an expletive-laden threat to the Iranian government concluding with the phrase, “Praise be to Allah”. The response to Trump’s post was intensely negative.

The responses to these different uses of Arab and Muslim expressions provides clarification for anyone wondering if, or when, it is ok for non-Muslims and non-Arabs to use these terms. Put simply, they are fine when used correctly, warmly, and without disrespect.

Trump’s use, conversely, was clearly designed to be belligerent and mocking. He took a phrase that is regularly used by Muslims, and which has profound religious significance, and turned it into a sarcastic insult pegged to a violent threat.

For Muslims and Arabs, who have felt their religion and cultures denigrated, pathologised, and held in contempt for hundreds of years by the West, Trump’s use was indefensible. And it is this same history that makes these communities particularly pleased when their expressions are acknowledged politely and affectionately.

No human likes their important expressions or practices being abused or mocked – but most do like to be affirmed. Hathaway got it right. Here’s to more of that, inshallah.

– ref. Anne Hathaway’s inshallah moment has gone viral. Here’s what it means, and when it can be used – https://theconversation.com/anne-hathaways-inshallah-moment-has-gone-viral-heres-what-it-means-and-when-it-can-be-used-281329

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Peter Whiteford, Professor, Crawford School of Public Policy, Australian National University

The Australian government just released the 2026 report of the Economic Inclusion Advisory Committee.

The committee was asked to explore ways to reduce barriers to economic inclusion for people who experience severe disadvantage. A crucial part of this task is to identify who are the most disadvantaged groups in Australia.

Disadvantage is a concept that goes beyond income poverty to encompass people’s outcomes, including deprivation and social exclusion.

So what does disadvantage look like in Australia today?

What we did

The most comprehensive study of Australian disadvantage is the Productivity Commission’s 2013 report.

That report detailed approaches to measuring social and economic disadvantage between 2001 and 2010.

The Economic Inclusion Advisory Committee’s report draws on this framework, but updates its findings using 24 years of data from the Household Income and Labour Dynamics in Australia (HILDA) Survey.

The report looks at disadvantage using a range of metrics.

Income poverty

Income poverty is a measure based on the resources available to households – how much money households have coming in compared to a “poverty line”. People are said to be in poverty when their resources are below this line.

Using a poverty line set at half Australian median income before housing costs, poverty increased from 11.4% of the households in 2010 to 14.2% in 2022, then fell to 12.6% in 2024.

Half of all public housing tenants and 38% of people receiving income support payments were in income poverty in 2022.

Read more: We can’t fix what we don’t track. That’s why Australia needs an official poverty measure

Deprivation

The deprivation approach seeks to measure the outcomes of inadequate resources. These are measured as the extent to which people are missing out on purchasable items, activities or services regarded as essential by a majority of the population because the items were not affordable.

Examples include medical or dental treatment when needed, home contents insurance, and at least $500 in savings for an emergency.

The most widely experienced deprivation in 2022 was lacking home contents insurance (7.7%), followed by lacking $500 in savings for an emergency (7.4%), not having comprehensive motor vehicle insurance (4.3%), and not being able to afford dental treatment when needed (4.1%).

For most of these indicators, deprivation was stable or declining over this period. In 2014, 80% of the population experienced no deprivation at all. By 2022 this had increased to 84%.

While the experience of multiple deprivations has become less common, 4% of the overall population experienced three or more deprivations in 2022.

For people receiving income support, multiple deprivations are much more common. Around 30% of people receiving income support experienced deprivation in 2022, and more than 10% experienced three or more deprivations.

Social exclusion

Social exclusion is also a multidimensional concept that relates to someone’s inability to participate or engage in key economic, social and political activities.

Like deprivation, it is mostly an outcomes-focused measure of disadvantage – although some indicators of social exclusion also reflect peoples’ capability to effectively participate in society.

The report looks at trends in 28 indicators measured over seven key life domains: material resources, employment, education and skills, health and disability, social connection, community characteristics and personal safety.

Low wellbeing in the material resources domain has been broadly stable since 2001, while the employment domain shows mixed trends.

Unemployment fell from 2001, rose significantly during COVID, and then fell to lower levels.

Long-term unemployment has fallen more. The share of jobless households fell significantly from 14% to 9% at the end of the period.

The education domain shows more significant changes likely to reduce disadvantage. Low education has nearly halved from around 40% to closer to 20%. Poor English has also fallen, but is much lower.

Low work experience has generally fluctuated between 11% and 13%.

The trend is less encouraging in health. Poor general health ranges between 17% and 20%, but started to exceed 20% in 2018 and 2019 and has been 21–22% since 2021.

Poor mental health has increased from 9.3% in 2011 to above 14% since 2020.

The share of the population with a long-term health condition has increased from 23.9% in 2001 to 29% or higher since 2020.

Personal safety shows improvements, with the share experiencing personal violence falling from 2.1% to 1.4%. Those being a victim of property crime fell from near 7% to under 3%, and those feeling generally unsafe fell from 6.5% to under 2% since 2021.

Deep social exclusion

To be deeply excluded, a person has to experience exclusion from at least seven of the 28 indicators for the different life domains. The extent of deep social exclusion has increased from 5.6% of people aged 15 and over in 2010 to 6.6% in 2022.

The Productivity Commission ranked the groups identified as more likely to experience multiple forms or deeper disadvantage in 2010. This ranking has not changed over the subsequent 12 years.

By far the highest rates of deep social exclusion in 2022 were experienced by people who are unemployed (38.8%), public housing tenants (36.5%), people receiving income support (20.5%), people with long-term health conditions or a disability (16.3%), people with low educational attainment (16.3%), lone parents (15.7%), and Indigenous Australians (15.5%).

For public housing tenants, people who are unemployed, people receiving income support and those with low educational attainment, rates of deep disadvantage have increased significantly.

For Indigenous Australians, rates of deep disadvantage nearly doubled between 2010 and 2014, but then fell back, although still higher than in 2010.

Persistent disadvantage

While some people move in and out of disadvantage relatively quickly, others can remain disadvantaged for many years. The longer a person is disadvantaged, the harder it is for them to escape.

The extent of deep and persistent social exclusion – those experiencing deep social exclusion for four or more years between 2015 and 2024 – is highest for public housing tenants (27.8%) and those receiving income support (23.4%). These rates have risen since 2001–10.

Over this period there have been major changes in who is in public housing and who is on income support, with both groups reducing as share of the population.

Population ageing has had an impact. The share of the population experiencing deep and persistent exclusion who are over 60 increased from 11.7% to 19.5%.

Between 2001–10, 63% of those experiencing deep and persistent exclusion were women, but in the 2015–24 period this had fallen to just under half.

By family type, the largest increase was for single-person households who went from 8.8% to 16.3% of those deeply and persistently excluded.

Deep and persistent social exclusion for Indigenous people (19.2%) is much higher than for non-Indigenous (3.9%), but has fallen slightly since 2001.

So while more in-depth analysis is required to identify what’s causing these trends, it’s clear there are key cohorts that need dedicated attention to boost quality of life.

– ref. What does disadvantage look like in Australia? New research shows who’s struggling most – https://theconversation.com/what-does-disadvantage-look-like-in-australia-new-research-shows-whos-struggling-most-281013

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Dilnoza Ubaydullaeva, Lecturer – National Security College, Australian National University

Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney was one of the first world leaders to speak out about the “ruptured” world order caused by the Trump administration in the United States. He called for middle powers to band together to safeguard what’s left of the liberal world order.

But what role will the global south play in all of this?

Some believe it will be decisive. Earlier this year, Finland’s president, Alexander Stubb, said at a conference in India, “the global south will decide what the next world order will look like”.

The global balance of power has shifted. The global south has both demography and economy on its side. The era of a Western-dominated world order is over. This is obvious, but it will take some time to sink in across the West.

So, how can the global south influence which direction the world takes?

Read more: Finland’s president Alexander Stubb has some ideas to save the international order – and ourselves

What is the global south?

It may be too early to declare the end of the Western-dominated world order. While the war in Iran may be leading some countries to question the current system – in which might appears to make right – the global south is far from a unified bloc.

First, there is no agreed definition or scope of the “global south”. The name infers countries located in the southern hemisphere, but many global south countries are north of the equator, while Australia and New Zealand are considered part of the “global north”.

Some lump Africa, Latin America and Asia together in the global south grouping, but this is too simplistic. And what to make of a major economy like China? Some include it in the global south, while others do not.

An important feature of the global south is there is no single state widely accepted as its leader, nor is there strong support for such leadership.

While China is influential in parts of the developing world through its “non-interference” foreign policy approach, India, with its strong ties to the West, is unlikely to accept Chinese global leadership.

The global south and the Iran war

Whatever definition one uses, the behaviour of some states in the global south shows they are trying to conduct foreign policy with multiple players, joining different clubs to pursue their national interests above all else.

These groups, however, haven’t proven to be very effective or united in responding to recent conflicts, raising questions about their level of influence.

Take the BRICS, for example. The coalition has expanded in recent years to ten countries, including Iran and the United Arab Emirates (which has been attacked by Iran in the current war).

Yet the group has failed to take a unified position on the war. China and Russia have condemned the US–Israeli attacks on Iran, while other members such as India have taken a cautious approach, calling for de-escalation.

Some commentators have noted a central problem: the BRICS members remain divided on many core strategic issues, without a central platform to resolve disputes.

When it comes to the Iran conflict and the future of the Middle East, individual nations in the global south have their own agendas, as well.

China, for instance, would lose a key partner if the Iranian regime were to collapse. Iran is a member of the China-led Shanghai Cooperation Organisation and an important partner in China’s efforts to create alternatives to Western-dominated governance. Moreover, China relies on a stable, secure access to oil and gas shipments through the Strait of Hormuz.

Pakistan has emerged as a key mediator between the US and Iran. This is a chance for it to take a much bigger role on the global stage. But it is also keen to ensure its defence partner, Saudi Arabia, is not drawn into a wider war. Under their defence arrangement, Pakistan would have to assist Saudi Arabia if the kingdom were attacked.

And India maintains an independent foreign policy based on “strategic autonomy”, allowing it to manage relations across competing blocs. As Foreign Minister S. Jaishankar has noted, India is not a Western country, nor is it “anti-Western”. This allows it to remain a key strategic partner to the United States, while also renewing purchases of Iranian oil and gas.

Other ways to exert influence

In his recent book, The Triangle of Power, Stubb argues the world is dividing into three parts – the global west (still led by the US), the global east (led by China and Russia) and the global south (comprised of middle and small powers in Africa, Latin America, the Middle East and Asia).

According to Stubb, the global order is at a crossroads between west and east, with the south being the pendulum that will decide which way the world swings. To maintain the old liberal world order, the west needs to get the south on its side.

But again, this is too simplistic a view. I believe nations in the global south have a preference for multipolarity, this is, a world order not dominated by one power, such as the United States or China.

They are also interested in having their voices heard in the global arena. Because many global south countries are former colonies of Western powers, they want to address the harm or injustices of colonialism they perceive as continuing in the current international system. South Africa’s move to hold Israel accountable at the International Court of Justice for its war in Gaza is an example of this.

At the same time, the current rupture in the international system has reinforced the importance of alternative diplomatic spaces and flexible alignments, allowing states to shift partnerships where it best serves their interests.

That means cooperating with the West when it suits them, while simultaneously cooperating with China, Russia or other blocs and powers.

Indonesia is a case in point. In the past month, it has signed a major defence agreement with Washington, while its president, Prabowo Subianto, also visited Moscow to meet with President Vladimir Putin.

The global south is clearly becoming more relevant in today’s power politics. Just how these nations choose to exert their influence remains to be seen.

– ref. In a fractured world order, where does the global south fit in? – https://theconversation.com/in-a-fractured-world-order-where-does-the-global-south-fit-in-278410

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Susan Carland, Lecturer, School of Social Sciences, Monash University

Three days ago, People magazine posted a clip from an interview with actor Anne Hathaway, who is currently on a global press tour. One of the questions concerned Hathaway’s feelings about ageing. In her response she – a non-Muslim – casually threw the word “inshallah” in mid-sentence.

The reaction was big. The clip quickly went viral, with the incident reported on Al Jazeera, Grazia, and HuffPost, among others. Why has this moment struck such a chord with Muslims and Arabs worldwide?

So what does it mean?

Inshallah (also transliterated as “insha’Allah” and “inshaallah”) is an Arabic term that means “if God wills” or “God willing”.

The term is most commonly associated with Muslims, as the explicit exhortation to use “inshaallah” appears in the Quran, a revelation Muslims believe was first received by Muhammad in 610 CE.

Chapter 18, verses 23-24 instructs people not to say “I will do that in the future” without adding “inshaallah” – if God wills. Muslims regularly use the phrase in daily life as an affirmation that, ultimately, everything is under divine – not human – control.

The term is not exclusive to Muslims, however. Christian Arabs (particularly those that live among Muslims) will also regularly use it, as will other people from different communities (including non-religious people) living in Muslim countries.

‘Inshallah’ and pop culture

While the expression has a long history, and is meant to symbolise humanity’s submission to the divine will, its less lofty colloquial use is covered online.

Some Westerners who move to Muslim-majority countries have expressed their frustration at inshallah being used as a euphemism for “no”, when a person wants to avoid giving firm negative answer. Similarly, Muslim teens have made plenty of social media posts complaining about the relatable experience of their parents hiding behind “inshallah” when they really mean “no”. In this context, it’s more of a gentle letdown wrapped in divine decree.

In recent years, we’ve seen several notable uses of the term by non-Muslims living in the West. Drake, for instance, used it in his 2018 song Diplomatic Immunity.

In 2020, Joe Biden invoked inshallah during his presidential debate with Donald Trump, when Trump was asked about his tax returns. Biden’s sarcastic tone implied he didn’t mean it in its literal sense.

The Muslim community’s response to Hathaway’s use of inshallah has been overwhelmingly positive, even if a small number are cynically viewing it as a publicity stunt targeting Arab and Muslim markets.

But most users are loving it, calling her “Anne Halal-away”, “Sister Anne-shallah Hathaway”, and “inshaAllah my princess of Genovia!!!”

It can be confusing to unfamiliar onlookers why some off-hand comments by celebrities can receive praise, and others vitriol.

Meme culture as a mode of belonging

So why has Hathway’s use of inshallah landed so well? To answer this, it helps to understand meme culture, as well as the shared experiences of modern, Western Muslims.

Take, for example, this highly memeified photo of a flyer stuck to a noticeboard advertising a “halal family movie night” for “Finding Nemo 2”.

At first glance, this photo (thought to originate in 2021) is unremarkable.

But it has the key ingredients to break from the confinement of its target audience (Muslim families wanting a movie night) and captivate broad sections of the internet, including non-Muslims. Namely, the endearingly amateur clip art design, the wholesome idea of a “halal movie night”, and the earnest and now iconic tagline, “inshallah they find him”.

“Inshallah they find him” has launched into many new memes, solidifying and ingratiating the phrase to countless online users over years.

Hathaway’s “inshallah” also came in highly primed online environment.

Last week, the official Sesame Street social media accounts posted Elmo enthusiastically learning Arabic phrases from actor Ramy Youssef. Elmo learned “habibi” (“darling” or, as Elmo calls it, “special friend”) and “asalaamu ‘alaykum” (the Islamic greeting, “peace be upon you”), to the delight of many Muslims and Arabs.

These terms are important and beloved to many Arabs and Muslims. While only a minority of global Muslims are Arabs, Arabic as the language of the Quran is a lingua franca that binds Muslims through ritual practice.

When can non-Muslims use such terms?

Earlier this month, Trump posted an expletive-laden threat to the Iranian government concluding with the phrase, “Praise be to Allah”. The response to Trump’s post was intensely negative.

The responses to these different uses of Arab and Muslim expressions provides clarification for anyone wondering if, or when, it is ok for non-Muslims and non-Arabs to use these terms. Put simply, they are fine when used correctly, warmly, and without disrespect.

Trump’s use, conversely, was clearly designed to be belligerent and mocking. He took a phrase that is regularly used by Muslims, and which has profound religious significance, and turned it into a sarcastic insult pegged to a violent threat.

For Muslims and Arabs, who have felt their religion and cultures denigrated, pathologised, and held in contempt for hundreds of years by the West, Trump’s use was indefensible. And it is this same history that makes these communities particularly pleased when their expressions are acknowledged politely and affectionately.

No human likes their important expressions or practices being abused or mocked – but most do like to be affirmed. Hathaway got it right. Here’s to more of that, inshallah.

– ref. Anne Hathaway’s inshallah moment has gone viral. Here’s what it means, and when it should be used – https://theconversation.com/anne-hathaways-inshallah-moment-has-gone-viral-heres-what-it-means-and-when-it-should-be-used-281329

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Ashlynne McGhee, Head of Editorial Innovation, The Conversation

One Nation has never held government, nor has it ever been in opposition. Yet it’s managed to influence public policy in Australia for three decades.

From borders to immigration, Indigenous affairs to multiculturalism, it’s moved the needle on each of these issues. How does a fringe party come to wield so much influence?

In episode 4 of our podcast, The Making of One Nation, public policy expert Josh Sunman says it’s because they’re able to shift the national conversation.

Once the major parties get a sense that One Nation’s really simplistic messaging is biting through they then feel a need to bring back those voters who they’re worried about losing to One Nation.

So they offer a kind of sanitised version of what One Nation’s policy position is, even though the substance is largely the same.

He says immigration is one of the best examples of One Nation’s influence.

John Howard in the 1980s spoke of Asian migration and cutting it down and was lambasted by both his party, the Labor Party and the press for it.

But by the end of the 1990s we have Howard’s famous line: ‘We will decide who comes to this country and the circumstances in which they come.’

We can really see him making a play for the One Nation vote there and One Nation’s influence has been seen throughout asylum seeker policy in particular ever since.

Political scientist Tim Bale from Queen Mary University of London says it’s a phenomenon replicated with far-right parties globally.

The UK is a very good example of a populist radical right political entrepreneur, Nigel Farage, being able to scare the Conservative Party but also the Labour Party into far more restrictive policies than would otherwise have been the case on both asylum and migration.

Without Nigel Farage, you’d have to say that although you might have seen some movement in that direction, you wouldn’t have seen quite the kind of hysterical rhetoric around the issue. And nor would you have seen policy move so fast.

Listen to Sunman and Bale talk about the mechanics of far-right parties influencing policy at The Making of One Nation podcast, available at Spotify, Apple or wherever you get your podcasts.

This episode was written by Ashlynne McGhee and produced and edited by Isabella Podwinski. Sound design by Michelle Macklem.

– ref. No power, all influence: How One Nation gets what it wants – https://theconversation.com/no-power-all-influence-how-one-nation-gets-what-it-wants-280357

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Sione Fanga Taufa, Associate Dean Pacific and Professional Teaching Fellow, University of Auckland, Waipapa Taumata Rau

When Tuvalu recently moved to declare a state of emergency, it laid bare a major vulnerability long faced by New Zealand’s small and far-flung Pacific neighbours.

That is their heavy reliance on imported fuel – delivered through long and often fragile supply chains – to power electricity, transport and other essential services.

With a population of just over 10,600, Tuvalu spends roughly one quarter of its GDP on imported petroleum. With limited storage capacity and few alternatives, it requires regular diesel shipments to keep the lights on and services running.

In a country where fuel is already an expensive commodity, the crisis in the Middle East has sent local prices surging even higher, with diesel up 40% and petrol about 30%.

The situation may yet grow worse, with the possibility of no consistent shipments beyond June. By declaring a two-week state of emergency, Tuvalu’s government has granted itself special powers to ration supplies and manage services.

While this may ease immediate pressures, it won’t resolve those deeper, structural problems with the wider region’s fuel security.

For New Zealand, which recently took these worries to the White House, this moment presents an important opportunity to help its old Pacific allies finally overcome their energy hurdles and become more resilient.

A region under strain

Tuvalu’s case may be extreme, but is by no means isolated. Many other small Pacific nations have similar economies that rely on limited shipping connections. Some receive as few as 40 to 50 container ship calls a year.

This pushes up costs, as fuel and other imports must pass through multiple ports and intermediaries before reaching their destination.

Tuvalu also isn’t the only state to have taken drastic measures in response to the oil shock.

The Marshall Islands earlier declared a 90-day economic state of emergency. Its non-essential public offices have been closing at mid-afternoon, while strict requirements have been imposed to reduce electricity use.

Other Pacific governments are meanwhile taking stock of their fuel situations.

The Solomon Islands has reported holding between 40 and 50 days of fuel in-country, while Vanuatu has warned of rising electricity prices for residents. Palau, Nauru and Kiribati are also mulling their own responses.

If the global energy crisis worsens, some Pacific governments may be forced to subsidise fuel and power, squeezing vital spending on health, education and climate adaptation. A drop in tourist revenue, due to fuel prices making airfares more expensive, will be adding further pressure.

Such is the strain on the region that its Pacific Islands Forum has reportedly agreed to invoke the Biketawa Declaration – its highest crisis response measure.

This places countries on a high-alert footing as they prepare for potential fuel shortages. Proposals such as pooled fuel procurement and shared contingency planning are also being explored.

Navigating the road to resilience

Importantly, these developments are unfolding against a shifting geopolitical backdrop, as the Pacific attracts growing attention from traditonal partners such as New Zealand and Australia, but also increasingly influential actors such as China.

Investment by these larger regional players in aid such as infrastructure, energy and connectivity has been recently accelerating, driven by a mix of strategic competition, economic interests and diplomatic efforts to strengthen ties.

In this context, the Pacific’s fuel and energy security becomes much more than a logistical issue, but one that places its nations at the centre of geopolitical tensions.

But with this complexity comes opportunity.

Partnerships with these greater countries can help fund renewable energy, storage and infrastructure, gradually reducing their dependence on imported fuel. Even so, it is important that Pacific governments keep control over decisions to ensure that supported projects reflect local needs and priorities.

For New Zealand, which has invested billions of dollars in aid and trade across the Pacific, there is an obvious role to play.

Its foreign affairs minister, Winston Peters, notably used a recent trip to Washington DC to raise concerns about the Pacific’s fuel vulnerability and explore potential support from the United States.

Being so closely connected to the Pacific through geography, history and people, New Zealand’s interest in the region’s energy security goes beyond foreign policy, to shared wellbeing and stability.

Building resilience will inevitably take time and much coordination. Among the most important steps will be expanding local renewable energy infrastructure, and other joint fuel security measures like those in the Biketawa framework.

Ultimately, the question that Tuvalu and other Pacific economies must reckon with is not whether more oil shocks lie beyond the horizon, but how much longer should stay so exposed to them.

– ref. No diesel, no power: why the global oil shock is hitting NZ’s small Pacific neighbours hard – https://theconversation.com/no-diesel-no-power-why-the-global-oil-shock-is-hitting-nzs-small-pacific-neighbours-hard-281222

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Jennifer Lavers (Métis Nation ᓲᐊᐧᐦᑫᔨᐤ), Lecturer in Ornithology, Charles Sturt University

You might know the short-tailed shearwater and sable shearwater by the common name “muttonbirds”. These two species of seabird breed on islands off southeastern Australia. Both undertake a breathtaking two-week, non-stop flight across the Pacific to the Bering Sea, more than 10,000 km away near Alaska and Russia. Here, they spend the northern summer.

Shearwaters have to survive often-ferocious conditions. Researchers using tracking technology found a shearwater flying inside the eye of a hurricane for 11 hours at an altitude of 4,700 m and winds exceeding 200 km/hr. The bird lived.

These remarkable birds have evolved special features such as tendons in their shoulder joints allowing them to take advantage of intense winds. Rather than being harmed, they use powerful winds to catapult them vast distances while expending minimal energy.

This is why it’s puzzling when many people – and wildlife agencies – blame strong winds or “migration” for the increasing numbers of dead shearwaters seen on Australian beaches.

In our new research, we point to the real cause of deaths in Australian waters: starvation linked to climate change. Researchers overseas have also pinpointed ocean warming as a key factor in mass deaths of seabirds.

Why blame the wind?

Pelagic (ocean-going) seabirds such as shearwaters rarely approach land other than to breed on their chosen islands – or if they are sick, starving or dying and don’t have enough energy to use the wind as they want.

In these cases, the wind can often push them onshore where beachgoers might see them and assume the strong winds are to blame.

Dead or dying beach-washed shearwaters are typically found over a vast area, from Queensland to Tasmania. This means the causes of these deaths must cover a large area – it can’t just be localised storms.

Shearwaters can survive long periods without food, but they have their limits. The waters of Australia’s east coast are a hotspot for marine biodiversity. But these same waters are warming significantly faster than the global average. As more and more heat is funnelled into the oceans, the prey species the shearwaters rely on are moving elsewhere, or going deeper. With their food out of reach, the birds grow weaker and many will die.

Many beachgoers spotting a dead shearwater may think this is normal, as they have seen this before. But it’s not normal. Of the world’s roughly 10,000 bird species, about 1,800 migrate, travelling long distances every year. These include shorebirds, land birds and seabirds. Almost none are regularly found dead on beaches or anywhere else. When they are found dead, they are very often emaciated.

Mass deaths are multiplying

The death of large numbers of birds in a short time is called a “wreck”. In birds, these sad events are typically linked to less prey and warmer waters.

From 2014 to 2015, around 400,000 Cassin’s auklets died off the Pacific northwest of the United States. The mass death of these small seabirds was linked to falling prey numbers brought on by a powerful marine heatwave which spread like a wildfire across the ocean.

Of all the extra heat trapped by climate change, more than 90% pours into the ocean. While the ocean gets gradually hotter, sudden marine heatwaves can bring abrupt, unwelcome change. Marine heatwaves are now striking more often and with increasing intensity.

While some species can adapt to some levels of change, others will not. Indeed, researchers predict “more losers than winners” as the rates of ocean warming rise.

Sadly, shearwaters look to be one such species. During a strong marine heatwave over the 2023-24 southern summer, an estimated 629,000 adult shearwaters died on Australian beaches. For the short-tailed shearwater, that’s around 3% of the global population, gone in a matter of weeks.

Shearwaters are globally recognised as sentinels of ocean health. When their populations are expanding and birds are able to successfully rear their young, this indicates the surrounding ocean is healthy and robust.

The deaths of hundreds of thousands of shearwaters in a single summer is an early warning of what is to come as ocean temperatures keep rising.

– ref. More shearwaters are washing up dead on Australian beaches. It’s not due to ‘natural’ causes – https://theconversation.com/more-shearwaters-are-washing-up-dead-on-australian-beaches-its-not-due-to-natural-causes-242768

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Mathew Turner, Associate Teaching Fellow, Deakin University

On Anzac Day, Collingwood and Essendon will meet at the MCG for their annual blockbuster in front of more than 90,000 people.

The clash, first staged in 1995, honours those who served in the Australian forces.

It is the biggest home-and-away game of the season, and arguably second only to the grand final on the AFL calendar.

Essendon and Collingwood have become synonymous with the occasion. Our research shows this was not always the case.

The origins of a ‘tradition’

From 1960 to 1994, Anzac Day football was shared among clubs – a history largely displaced.

That displacement began in 1995, when a crowd of 94,825 watched Collingwood and Essendon play out a thrilling draw.

Almost immediately, the two clubs asserted an ongoing claim over Anzac Day football.

The media assisted with that claim. By April 1996 – before a second match had even been played – Age journalists were referring to it as “entrenched” in the annual fixture, and as the “traditional” Anzac Day clash.

In the years since, the origins of the match have been reinvented.

Then-Essendon coach Kevin Sheedy has been recognised as the architect of the Anzac Day game. Although the exact details have changed over the years, Sheedy worked with the Returned & Services League of Australia (RSL) and Collingwood to stage the 1995 clash.

Retrospectively it has been claimed the match was conceptualised as an annual event from the beginning. In fact, there is no evidence from 1995 – in RSL documents, the AFL Football Record, media reports, or Sheedy’s own words – that the match was conceived as anything other than a one-off.

Post-1995 Anzac Day football, then, is not the story of a carefully conceived tradition, but of one assembled in the aftermath of a hugely successful, single match.

Anzac Day footy in the 1960s

Anzac Day football did not begin in 1995 but in 1960, when the RSL pushed for matches with Victorian government support.

From the outset, the day carried commemorative elements, including a minute’s silence before the match.

Over the next 35 years, 79 games were played on Anzac days.

The league adopted a shared model, with matches rotated across clubs and venues, typically staging two or more games on the day.

All clubs participated and none was given privileged access.

This history, and the prevailing sentiment of a shared occasion, has been mostly forgotten.

An uneven playing field

By the early 1990s, Anzac Day football had become inconsistent, with fluctuating crowds and uneven scheduling.

In 1994, Anzac Day fell on a Monday, but Collingwood and Essendon met at the MCG on the Saturday two days prior. On the Monday, the AFL fixtured a low-profile St Kilda-Richmond match at Waverley, which drew little interest.

Commentators argued at the time the Collingwood–Essendon fixture should have been played on Anzac Day instead.

So the idea was already in public circulation a year before the groundbreaking Essendon-Collingwood draw.

Between 1960 and 1994, Essendon played 15 times on Anzac Day (including on ten Saturdays when all football was played) and Collingwood just ten times (including five Saturdays). Neither team had a longstanding association with Anzac Day football.

By contrast, Carlton, Geelong, Melbourne and Richmond collectively played on Anzac Day 70 times from 1960 to 1994. Yet these four teams have played on the day just six times between them since 1995.

The benefits to Collingwood and Essendon are considerable: a lucrative source of revenue, a way to entice new recruits and an opportunity for their players to experience a finals-like atmosphere at the MCG.

While the AFL often schedules multiple games across the country when Anzac Day falls on a Saturday, by far the grandest fixture is the Collingwood-Essendon clash at the MCG.

Critics (including former longtime Collingwood coach Mick Malthouse) have argued the marquee fixture should be shared.

Is it time to share the love?

Other clubs have also lost players to war, yet are almost always excluded from playing in front of their fans on the day and remembering their sacrifices.

Recognising the longer, 66-year history of Anzac Day football – during more than half of which the shared model prevailed – does not diminish the occasion. Rather, it exposes what has been lost and misconstrued.

The Collingwood-Essendon stranglehold is presented as an established tradition, yet it rests on a narrower history. It also sits uneasily with the AFL’s stated commitment to a fair and equitable competition, and with the egalitarian values Anzac Day is supposed to represent.

What was once a shared occasion across the competition is now jealously guarded by two clubs who have the honour of playing every year on Anzac Day.

This matters given Anzac Day’s deep cultural significance, and restricts how AFL fans are able to commemorate Australia’s most sacred secular day.

– ref. The AFL’s Anzac Day game: how a shared tradition became a two-club monopoly – https://theconversation.com/the-afls-anzac-day-game-how-a-shared-tradition-became-a-two-club-monopoly-280703

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Jonathan Graffam-O’Meara, Tutor in English & Theatre, The University of Melbourne

There’s a line in the opening moments of Anne Edmonds’ Bad Company that announces the show’s premise: “Money is the death of creativity”.

Delivered by Margie Argyle (Edmonds), the wildly self-assured artistic director of the Argyle Theatre, it’s meant to be funny – a declaration so absurd, so blinkered, we recognise the comedy in it immediately.

The trouble is the line reveals the show’s inherent outdatedness. Margie is raging against a battle Australian theatre fought – and largely lost – decades ago.

Tension between creative ambition and institutional sustainability is not imaginary. Smaller, more innovative companies – most likely to produce new work – were disproportionately gutted by Brandis-era funding cuts.

The cultural stakes of the argument Margie is making were once genuinely urgent. But Bad Company doesn’t seem aware of this history. The show presents the creative-versus-corporate conflict as if it were fresh provocation rather than the settled vocabulary of a debate Australian performing arts administrators have been having, wearily, for at least 30 years.

I found myself wondering: for whom is this new?

Are we just recycling old jokes?

The show is positioned as a Fisk-adjacent workplace comedy, riding the critical and commercial success of Kitty Flanagan’s much-loved ABC legal series. The comparison is inescapable, not least because Fisk’s director, Tom Peterson, is at the helm here, and because Flanagan herself appears as Julia McNamara, the corporate fixer brought in to rescue the Argyle from financial collapse.

Fisk succeeds on the strength of a central character so precisely realised that Flanagan generates comedy from almost any situation the character is placed in.

But Bad Company populates the Argyle Theatre with a collection of types assembled from familiar stereotypes rather than fully imagined ones. The overtly queer wig designer. The quirky seamstress. The earnest marketing person. The interfering board member. Each is recognisable. None has been written beyond an initial sketch.

This is where the show encounters its central problem. Edmonds is well known to Australian audience as a comedian whose natural habitat is herself. Her humour is confessional, self-lacerating and bracingly direct. It suits panel shows and stand-up. It is less suited to playing someone else.

Margie Argyle demands such a transformation, and Edmonds doesn’t quite achieve it. The character is an attitude in search of a person. Her certainty about her own genius is the joke, but the joke can only sustain so many repetitions before the audience begins asking not “what will she do next?” but “why should I care?”

There is an irony hovering over the whole enterprise the show does not appear to notice: Edmonds is the writer and creator of a series in which she plays the visionary lead creative, programming work to further her own performing career, certain of her own brilliance, resistant to outside interference, putting herself emphatically at the centre.

Whether that irony is intentional or not, it’s hard to ignore.

Julia McNamara, the corporate fixer, is a more contained role and Flanagan brings precision to it. But even she cannot manufacture warmth or contradiction from a character who is, in these first episodes at least, essentially a function, the rational force to Margie’s chaotic one.

The two performers have chemistry in the abstract, the way any two confident comics in the same room might. What they don’t yet have is a relationship with texture, stakes or surprise. The show mistakes opposition for conflict, and conflict for drama.

In one early scene, Margie summons the company for a collective movement and breathing ritual, a managerial gesture presented as collegial necessity. In the second episode, the theatre stages a production about humans as eggs – performers costumed accordingly – the entire company treating the endeavour with solemn conviction.

It is the kind of joke aimed at theatre that landed in the 1990s and has been recycled with diminishing returns ever since. It is hard to find a second laugh in material asking us to find arts people funny simply for being arts people.

Mocking from the outside

The best workplace comedies, from The Office to Fisk, earn their laughs by finding genuine humanity inside the absurdity, by letting us see the ridiculous world on screen has a unique appeal and a logic that is relatable.

Bad Company, at least in its opening episodes, simply mocks from the outside.

There are bright spots. Several supporting actors, given little room but making the most of what they have, suggest a richer world the show has not yet decided to explore. Whether subsequent episodes will find the courage to bring them forward is an open question, but could be genuinely promising.

Bad Company is clearer about the arguments it stages than the perspective it takes on them. Margie’s hostility to financial pragmatism is offset by Julia’s corporate rationalism, but the show has yet to find a compelling position between the two, or fresh humour in the tension between them.

Bad Company is on ABC and ABC iView from Sunday.

– ref. The ABC’s new workplace comedy about a theatre, Bad Company, simply mocks from the outside – https://theconversation.com/the-abcs-new-workplace-comedy-about-a-theatre-bad-company-simply-mocks-from-the-outside-279452