Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Sidney Wong, PhD Candidate in Linguistics (Canterbury) and Research Fellow, University of Otago

Anyone tuning into political debates about the recently introduced English Language Bill might be led to think New Zealand’s most widely spoken tongue is endangered.

The bill, which forms part of a coalition deal between the New Zealand First and National parties and aims to make English an official language in Aotearoa, has been widely criticised as unnecessary.

One opposition MP branded it an “answer to a problem that does not exist”.

Indeed, English is spoken by more than 4.75 million New Zealanders – 96% of the population – and dominates the nation’s television, radio, classrooms and workplaces.

One reason for designating languages “official” is to protect and support minority or marginalised languages, often those under threat. Can we really say the same of English?

NZ’s de facto language

The United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) assesses “endangered” languages using six factors beyond the number of speakers, including their use in media, education and published resources. By these measures, English in Aotearoa is clearly not in peril.

One exception is technology designed for our variety of English: New Zealand English. Most digital tools work best with American or British accents, while the New Zealand accent is often poorly recognised or represented. However, the Bill does not make reference to such tools being included.

Most countries explicitly designate official languages in their constitutions, but not all do. Australia, for example, has no official language. Nor do Japan, Mexico or Ethiopia.

Some countries recognise several official languages, such as Singapore and South Africa, while others, such as Iran and Russia, designate just one.

English is an official (de jure) language in 58 countries, including Canada, Hong Kong and Pakistan.

But it has no official status in Great Britain, the United States, Australia, New Zealand and many other countries where it is clearly a dominant language. In these places, it functions instead as a de facto national language. It is not by chance that it reached this status in Aotearoa.

New Zealand’s Immigration Restriction Act 1899 long required migrants not of British or Irish ancestry to complete an application form “in any European language” – in practice, usually English. Versions of what was effectively an English language test remained in place until 1971.

Given that English is today, as it was then, New Zealand’s default language, inscribing it in the country’s constitution would have little practical effect.

What really needs protecting

A key purpose of official language policies is to reverse language “shift” – when people abandon one language in favour of a more dominant one.

This is a major threat to heritage languages – those typically learned at home rather than at school, and which have a non-dominant status. Associated with migrant communities, heritage languages have been spoken in Aotearoa since non-Māori began arriving on its shores.

Today, the country is home to more than 160 heritage language communities. Many, however, have experienced a familiar pattern of language shift. One example is Cantonese, spoken by 54,417 people in New Zealand, according to the 2023 Census.

In a 1993 survey of Tongan, Greek and Chinese communities, Cantonese-speaking families experienced advanced rates of language shift over three generations. By the third generation, only a quarter of families maintained any fluency in Cantonese.

Motivated to assimilate with Anglophone New Zealand, Dutch migrants who arrived in New Zealand during the 1950s lost their language altogether.

The best way to support a language is to encourage people to use it. Today, efforts to revitalise and maintain heritage languages often rely on community groups that run voluntary language classes or organise language weeks.

Digital spaces offer another opportunity. While most people now use digital tools every day, these are usually designed for English – typically American or British English. In fact, significant technology development exists for fewer than 100 of the world’s more than 7000 languages.

Unsurprisingly, most of New Zealand’s heritage languages remain under-served online.

This creates a digital equity gap for younger generations, who can’t engage with their heritage languages on the digital platforms they typically use.

Language is an intrinsic part of identity and culture, and the maintenance of languages leads to better wellbeing outcomes as well as cognitive and professional benefits.

Currently, Aotearoa has no overarching national strategy for languages or language learning. Instead, policy exists in separate areas – including strategies for Pacific languages and te reo Māori – without a single framework covering the country’s full linguistic landscape.

Ultimately, language should be treated as a social investment. The new bill’s hasty introduction is a missed opportunity to fully understand Aotearoa’s linguistic needs.

– ref. English doesn’t need protecting in New Zealand – but other languages do – https://theconversation.com/english-doesnt-need-protecting-in-new-zealand-but-other-languages-do-276951

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Nicholas Ross Smith, Senior Research Fellow, National Centre for Research on Europe, University of Canterbury

When a local political commentator recently suggested (partly tongue-in-cheek) that New Zealand might respond to US President Donald Trump’s new world order by becoming the seventh state of Australia, it was dismissed by the prime minister and most political leaders.

But the fact their views were even sought shows how far the debate has moved since Trump began dismantling the old rules-based international order New Zealand has long considered the basis of its foreign policy.

At January’s World Economic Forum in Davos and more recently in his address to the Australian parliament, Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney laid down a challenge for other “middle powers” to start finding practical solutions to the new global realities.

Carney’s clarion call matters also for smaller powers uneasy about the United States under Trump and rising great-power disorder. New Zealand, with its long-held preference for multiple alliances and foreign policy independence, is likely a keen ally in such a middle-power movement.

Yet the hard part remains: how can middle and smaller powers effectively work together when still mostly reliant on great powers for security, trade and technology?

The technological dimension, in particular, makes middle power cooperation harder today. Modern states are existentially dependent on semiconductors, AI systems, 5G infrastructure and cloud computing – technologies produced overwhelmingly by the two “technopoles” of the US and China.

The world order has “ruptured”, Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney has warned – so it’s time for countries like Australia and New Zealand to forge a new, less US-reliant future. In this new series, we’ve asked top experts to explain what that future could look like – and the challenges that lie ahead.

Finding a ‘workaround’

In a forthcoming collection of essays about how middle powers might cooperate on vital technology in this turbulent world, the concept of “workarounding” describes how countries can pursue strategic objectives collectively, without routing everything through Washington or Beijing.

For New Zealand, technology is already an area of real foreign policy concern. Military interoperability with Australia – a key driver behind potentially joining AUKUS Pillar Two – is a sticking point. More broadly, New Zealand risks being left behind in the AI revolution.

The Indo-Pacific region, however, offers promising workaround partners. Beyond Australia – New Zealand’s oldest friend and only formal ally – there is a growing cluster of tech middle powers with which Wellington has positive relationships: India, South Korea and several key ASEAN states.

India produces the world’s highest number of IT graduates, runs ambitious semiconductor and quantum computing programs, and maintains multiple alliances that allow it to resist being absorbed into either great power orbit.

New Zealand’s relationship with India is burgeoning with the announcement at the end of 2025 of a free trade agreement.

New Zealand also has a trade agreement with South Korea, and both countries are part of the Indo-Pacific Four group (with Australia and Japan). Home to Samsung, Hyundai and LG, South Korea is often heralded as the most successful tech middle power and occupies an important position in critical international tech supply chains.

The ASEAN bloc – driven by key member states – also has a deep institutional instinct for hedging between great powers, and contains five major tech economies: Singapore, Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand and Vietnam. New Zealand has strong relationships with ASEAN, including a trade agreement and a Comprehensive Strategic Partnership.

The problem is that Australia, India, South Korea and ASEAN all face their own tech dependency constraints, and the group lacks a technologically capable anchor outside the US-China duopoly.

Europe as a way forward

A third party may be able to fill that anchor role – the European Union (EU). While it remains an imperfect geopolitical actor, long derided for being a hobbled giant or a geopolitical sleepwalker, the EU is still a potential ally to middle powers.

That’s because it is not a conventional state and does not have the military capabilities of great powers. This forces it to take a multilateral and multi-stakeholder approach to geopolitics.

Importantly, the EU has significant and growing technological weight, most clearly expressed in its regulatory frameworks. Its General Data Privacy Regulation has established a global data governance template that neither Washington nor Beijing can match. Such rules shape how data flows, how AI is governed and how digital markets are structured globally.

The EU is also moving decisively into hardware to complement its regulatory power. The 2023 European Chips Act mobilises over €43 billion (A$70 billion) to double Europe’s share of global semiconductor production, spurred by the building of a semiconductor plant in Dresden.

Dutch multinational ASML’s near-monopoly on crucial semiconductor manufacturing machines gives Europe genuine structural leverage over global chip supply chains.

Furthermore, during the second Trump presidency, the EU has moved quickly to improve its strategic autonomy, as well as deepen its Indo-Pacific presence. It is building trade relationships and positioning European tech companies as alternatives to US and Chinese providers.

New Zealand’s relationship with the EU is at an all-time high since a free trade agreement came into force in 2024. And there is significant convergence on how both view the Indo-Pacific.

The NZ-EU trade agreement includes a dedicated digital trade chapter, and the inaugural trade committee meeting in October 2025 flagged cooperation on digital technologies and critical minerals as priorities.

Carney was right about the old “fiction” being over. The task now for smaller powers such as New Zealand is not to mourn it, but to help construct something more durable in its place. This is a networked middle-power order built on shared standards, supply chain resilience and strategic diversification.

– ref. In Trump’s precarious world, NZ will need all the middle-sized friends it can get – https://theconversation.com/in-trumps-precarious-world-nz-will-need-all-the-middle-sized-friends-it-can-get-276391

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Sara Meger, Senior Lecturer in International Relations, The University of Melbourne

On International Women’s Day, March 8, we often commemorate the progress women have made across the centuries. Rightly so, as there’s much to celebrate.

But what if the more urgent story is about backlash?

We are researching a troublingly common pathway: how everyday misogyny becomes violent extremism. We’re trying to better understand how gender attitudes influence radicalisation and how we can best prevent it.

Drawing from our soon-to-be-published survey of more than 2,300 adults and 1,100 young people (aged 13–17), our findings suggest misogyny is not a side issue. It may be a driver of extremism.

While public debate often frames extremism through race, religion or nationalism, our research suggests that gender politics may be just as – if not more – central.

Finding the common threads

Though vastly different, extremist movements, such as far-right ethno-nationalists, religious fundamentalists and online “incel” communities, have something in common. The ideological language may differ, but the underlying insistence on women’s “rightful place” in society binds these movements together.

Around the world, there is a growing sentiment that “feminism has gone too far” or that men are now discriminated against. In Australia and other Western countries, this sentiment has risen steadily since 2021.

Online, it’s amplified through what’s been called the “manosphere”: a network of influencers and communities that frame gender equality as a threat.

We are interested in whether this growing sentiment is generating anti-feminist and misogynistic attitudes in Australia, and whether these attitudes form a pathway into violent extremist views.

Our research

In our recent national survey of Australian adults and adolescents, we examined general misogynistic attitudes and support for violent extremism.

We asked whether it is legitimate to use violence to resist feminism. More than 17% of all Australians agree feminism should be resisted with violence. It was the second most supported form of extremist attitude.

Our study included a representative sample of 13–17-year-olds across Australia. The findings are even more confronting among these participants.

We were surprised to learn that 25–30% of boys in this age group expressed agreement with various forms of violent extremism. More than a third (36%) agreed with misogynistic attitudes.

Support for violence to resist feminism was highest among adolescent boys (28%), followed closely by adolescent girls (21%).

Perhaps most alarming: roughly 40% of boys aged 13 to 17 agreed that women lie about domestic and sexual violence.

These results raise crucial questions going forward. We don’t yet know how these views have changed over time, whether they are on the rise and what the links are between violent extremism and the negative treatment of women.

A generation under strain?

Another avenue of enquiry our team is investigating is how the perception of threat to masculine status and lack of belonging can play a role.

Social research has shown boys and men increasingly feel alienated, humiliated or uncertain about their place in the world.

Read more: How boys get sucked into the manosphere

Narratives that reassert male dominance can become psychologically attractive and are being pushed online – often for profit. They blame the plight of men on feminism, immigrants and women at large.

In our research, we differentiate between interpersonal experiences, anchored in close relationships, and intergroup conflict that has generated a sense of “us” versus “them”: men versus women. We then examine how this intergroup social conflict is driving radicalisation.

Online communities validate men and boys’ grievances and offer an “outgroup” to scapegoat and blame – women. At the same time a new “ingroup” is being crafted, coalescing around misogyny, and shaped and led by key figures online.

This new social identity that defines men and boys (and allies) as an ingroup in need of defending may be operating as a gateway to violent extremist ideologies.

The public and the private

One of our study’s most nuanced insights concerns how young people conceptualise violence against women. We found two distinct clusters of attitudes.

Some respondents justified violence in the private sphere. If a woman disobeys in the home, a man should be able to control her with violence.

Others supported abstract restrictions in the public sphere, such as limiting women’s reproductive rights. Some agreed with the sentiment that “sometimes a woman just pushes a man too far”, forcing him to commit acts of violence.

Different types of extremism appeared to align with different clusters. This suggests misogyny is not all the same. It’s expressed in many ways, from intimate coercion to political control.

The intergroup conflict comes to the fore in social and political debates about men and women’s rights and freedoms, and the perception that advances in women’s rights has come at the expense of men’s.

Understanding these distinctions is vital for understanding misogyny and violent extremism in Australia and beyond. Misogyny is not just a “social issue”, but a potential national security concern.

Interrupting the pathway to extremism

By identifying misogyny as a pathway rather than an endpoint, we can think about prevention.

Researchers at the Faculty of Education at the University of Melbourne have developed Resilience, Rights and Respectful Relationships teaching resources.

The approach is guided by research that shows curriculum that promotes social and emotional skills and positive gender norms leads to improved mental and social health, and reduces involvement in bullying and the perpetration of gender-based violence. Such approaches have already had measurable success in Australia.

One question still being investigated by the researchers is what more needs to be done in schools and to support teachers. Given the expansion of online influences, how are programs like this meant to “compete” and how can these efforts be enhanced?

So while International Women’s Day often centres visibility and empowerment, the initial findings from this research alert us to another truth alongside that celebration: progress can provoke backlash.

But the pathway from misogyny to extremism is not inevitable. It’s shaped by social norms, institutional responses and all of us taking action for inclusion, respect, equality and safety.

We can interrupt this pathway. Successfully doing so will help protect and further gender equality into the future.

– ref. 40% of teenage boys believe women lie about domestic and sexual violence: new research – https://theconversation.com/40-of-teenage-boys-believe-women-lie-about-domestic-and-sexual-violence-new-research-276978

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Sam Robinson, Senior Research Fellow, Institute for Molecular Bioscience, The University of Queensland

The next time you stub your toe, get pricked with a needle, or have your fingers jammed in the lid of a piano, you might pause to consider the marvellous way our bodies are able to heal such injuries.

As soon as the damage occurs, a range of different molecules in our bodies are activated and begin their jobs. These work to stem any bleeding, patch up breaks in the skin, signal our immune system to keep the wound clean, and initiate the longer-term repair process.

One such molecule is known as bradykinin. It is shared by all vertebrates, including mammals, reptiles, birds and fish. But it is also present in the venoms of some wasps and the toxic skin secretions of some frogs. These apparent inconsistencies in the distribution and function of bradykinin have puzzled scientists for decades.

In a new study published in Science, my colleagues and I reveal why bradykinin is in some venoms and how it got there. The answer shines a light on what has, until now, been an underappreciated feature of evolution which suggests life is not so random after all.

A multipurpose molecule

Bradykinin serves several purposes in humans and other vertebrates.

It is activated at a site of injury where it makes local blood vessels leaky, allowing passage of other helpful molecules to the wound. It also activates local sensory nerves causing pain, which teaches us not to do whatever it is that we did again, and serves as a longer-term reminder to protect that area and let it heal.

After identifying large quantities of bradykinin over and over again in different wasp venoms (paper wasps, yellowjackets, hornets and more) I decided it was time to tackle this longstanding puzzle.

We analysed the genes that encode these bradykinins to investigate why they were in certain venoms and how they got there. This revealed a surprising answer.

Evolutionary doppelgängers

When we see two people who look indistinguishable, we might assume they are identical twins or at least closely related (because our genes play an important role in our appearance, and closely related individuals share similar genes).

The same is true for molecules.

When scientists see identical molecules, this often reflects shared ancestry. But, as we discovered, this is not the case for bradykinin.

Wasp venom and frog skin bradykinins are unrelated to vertebrate bradykinin.

Instead, they are evolutionary doppelgängers – they look the same, but have completely different genetic backgrounds. In many instances they are completely structurally identical, atom-for-atom.

And the plot gets even thicker. We discovered that bradykinin evolved independently at least four times in wasps and ants – and probably even more times in frogs.

A way to deter predators

For there to be another individual who looks exactly like you (but is otherwise genetically not closely related) somewhere out there in the world is not inconceivable – there are a lot of other people out there.

But if there were six or seven, you might start to wonder if some other force was at play. We investigated what was behind the repeated evolution of bradykinin doppelgängers in wasps and frogs.

We showed that bradykinin in each wasp venom exquisitely mimics the bradykinin of that species’ vertebrate predators. This suggests it evolved in response to predation.

When delivered in large amounts via a sting, the bradykinin in venom deceives the predator’s body into thinking it has sustained an injury, triggering sensory nerves and causing pain and sensitivity.

This is very useful for the wasp – and it’s one of the reasons why some stings feel like getting stabbed by a needle.

In a similar way, frog skin bradykinins also evolved to deter vertebrate predators.

Life is not random

The independent evolution of the same trait in unrelated organisms is known as convergent evolution. Bradykinin is one of an increasing number of examples where scientists are uncovering convergent evolution at the level of genes.

Together these examples have revealed the crucial – and previously underappreciated – role of convergence in the evolution of life.

Convergent evolution tells us that genes are more flexible and that the environment plays a greater role in shaping them than has been widely accepted.

It also tells us that the evolution of life is not a random, unpredictable muddle of improbable outcomes. In fact it is progressing in an ordered, constrained, predictable – perhaps even inevitable – way.

– ref. Wasps and frogs keep evolving a crucial pain molecule in their venom. Now we know why – https://theconversation.com/wasps-and-frogs-keep-evolving-a-crucial-pain-molecule-in-their-venom-now-we-know-why-277485

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Mireille Rebeiz, Chair of Middle East Studies, Dickinson College

The fragile peace in Lebanon was already showing serious strains in the first months of 2026 – and then came the U.S.-Israeli strikes in Iran.

After the killing of Iran’s supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, Hezbollah – a Shiite paramilitary group and Iranian proxy operating from Lebanon – retaliated by launching rockets into the north of Israel. Israel responded with fresh strikes on Hezbollah targets in south Lebanon, Beirut and the Bekaa Valley in the east.

Hezbollah is not the force in Lebanon it once was. Yet as an expert in Hezbollah affairs, I believe the group still maintains the potential to drag Lebanon into conflict and chaos.

Hezbollah is in no position to play an effective role as an ally to Iran in its war with the U.S. and Israel. But the threat of its actions destabilizing Lebanon is real – as is the fear of Israel and Syria using the pretext of Hezbollah’s response now to launch ground invasions and occupy parts of Lebanon.

A failed ceasefire

Hezbollah’s decision to support Iran is in line with the core tenets of the group.

Inspired by the 1979 Iranian Revolution, Hezbollah came into existence in 1985 with the publication of a manifesto that detailed its aims for the region. It pledged allegiance to the supreme leader of the Iranian Revolution, Ruhollah Musavi Khomeini, and vowed to fight the Israeli occupation of Lebanon and the Palestinian territories.

Having dominated internal politics and dictated foreign policy for the best part of 40 years, it has been seriously degraded since October 2023, with Israeli strikes taking out much of its leadership. Many in Lebanon hoped that the grip Hezbollah held would soon be a thing of the past.

On Nov. 27, 2024, Israel and Hezbollah agreed to a ceasefire following almost a year of Hezbollah attacks, in solidarity with Hamas, and heavy Israeli shelling in response.

As part of the plan, Hezbollah would withdraw north of the Litani River and Israeli troops would withdraw from southern Lebanon within a 60-day period.

Brokered by the U.S., the agreement was never fully implemented. In fact, Israel kept bombing Lebanon almost on a daily basis while claiming that the Lebanese army is not working fast enough to disarm Hezbollah.

The laying down of Hezbollah’s arms was another term in the ceasefire plan but has been difficult to implement. The Lebanese army recently announced entering an “advanced stage” of the disarmament plan and is currently focused on expanding its presence in the south of Lebanon. But Israel expressed dissatisfaction with the pace of disarmament and claimed that Hezbollah is rearming faster than it was being disarmed.

Meanwhile, Hezbollah’s secretary general, Naim Qassem, has repeatedly said that the group will not agree to a full disarmament and withdrawal north of the Litani River while Israel continues striking Lebanon.

In fact, since November 2024, Israel Defense Forces targeted Lebanon with 855 strikes. February 2026 alone was marked by 44 strikes – and this was before the current war began.

Earlier this year, speaking in a televised address, Qassem declared that the group would not remain neutral if Israel goes to war against Iran. True to his word, Hezbollah started shelling Israel right after the killing of Khamenei.

But that move has been heavily criticized by other voices in Lebanon who accuse the group of putting Iran’s interests ahead of Lebanon’s and, in effect, killing off a peace process that was already under massive strain.

Dragging a nation into conflict

This is not the first time that Hezbollah has dragged Lebanon into an armed conflict, nor the first time it has rejected the state’s call to disarm.

In July 2006, demanding the release of Lebanese prisoners in Israel, Hezbollah fighters entered Israeli territory, kidnapping two Israeli soldiers and killing three. This led to a 34-day war, the loss of 1,000 civilian lives, the weakening of Lebanon’s economy and significant damages to its infrastructure.

Then, after the Oct. 7, 2023, attacks by Hamas – and despite the Lebanese state’s numerous calls to remain neutral – Hezbollah vowed solidarity with the Palestinian militants and joined its fight against Israel. What followed was months of tit-for-tat attacks with Israel that escalated into a full-blown war in September 2024.

The Lebanese government has been keen to distance itself from Hezbollah’s actions in the current conflict.

In response to Hezbollah’s shelling of northern Israel, the Lebanese cabinet on March 2 outlawed Hezbollah’s military activities.

This is a first for Lebanon. Almost half a century ago, Lebanon implicitly legalized Hezbollah and agreed to share security responsibilities – which is almost always exclusively within the hands of the state – with Hezbollah, a nominally nonstate entity.

What impact the ban will have, if any, remains to be seen. It certainly did not seem to make an immediate difference, as Hezbollah continued with its military activities in support of Iran.

Sectarian violence

While intended as a step toward isolating Hezbollah and building a stronger state of Lebanon, the recent ban on Hezbollah’s military activities risks exacerbating Lebanon’s sectarian divide.

It comes at a time when Lebanon and the wider region is going through serious challenges that have left Shiite communities outside Iran feeling vulnerable.

The rise of sectarian violence against Alawites – an offshoot of Shiite Islam – in neighboring Syria is a source of concern to many.

And in Lebanon, the Shiites, who make up a third of Lebanon’s population, suffered the most from both Israel’s 40-year occupation of the south and the 2024 war.

As ayatollah, Khamenei was seen as one of the leading spiritual leaders of all Shiites, not just in Iran. His killing and the fact that most Shiites in Lebanon live in the areas that have been heavily targeted by Israel in recent days – south Lebanon, southern Beirut and the Bekaa Valley – will further lead into the narrative that they are a community under threat.

My concern is that tasked with disarming the group, the Lebanese army could be drawn into confrontation with Hezbollah fighters.

Lebanon has a history of such clashes. A serious sectarian confrontation occurred in May 2008 when the Lebanese government attempted to dismantle Hezbollah’s private telecommunications network and remove key security officials from Beirut airport.

Hezbollah responded with a swift and violent takeover of West Beirut, which is predominantly Sunni Muslim. Fighters clashed and killed about 110 civilians.

Lebanon was then on the brink, but the Lebanese army’s decision not to get involved in street battles prevented a turn toward civil war.

Ground invasions

But sectarian violence has long dogged Lebanon – and anything that risks the country’s fracturing is to the detriment of all Lebanese people, not just the Shiites. The country is already suffering from a severe economic crisis and only recently came out of a prolonged period of political paralysis, during which Hezbollah blocked successive attempts to install a president.

Having made steps toward putting in place a functioning government after the 2024 ceasefire, the other fear, alongside civil strife, is invasion from the north and the south.

The Syrian military has significantly reinforced its presence along the northern border with Lebanon. Thousands of Syrian troops were deployed to supposedly secure the border and prevent the infiltration of Hezbollah militants in Syria. However, many Lebanese fear that Syria may want to invade and occupy parts of Lebanon, like it did during the Lebanese civil war.

As for Israel, it is already bombing Lebanon. And Israeli military spokesman Brig. Gen. Effie Defrin said in a public address that it is keeping “all options on the table,” including a potential ground invasion of Lebanon.

It follows growing interest in Israel of an expansionist policy toward lands around the current state. In February, Israeli extremists illegally entered south Lebanon and called for its occupation. This also occurred back in December 2024. And in a recent interview, Mike Huckabee, the U.S. ambassador to Israel, seemed to express support for Israel’s expansionist agenda, suggesting that “it would be fine” for Israel to take chunks of Middle East “land.”

Hezbollah’s violent death throes?

The U.S.-Israeli strikes on Iran have again shone a light on how much of Lebanon’s future is premised on regional shifts and developments that exacerbate internal divides.

Hezbollah has for the past 40 years been a focus of this dynamic. For months, observers have – for good reason – suggested the Iran-backed group was on its last leg. Instead, it looks like the group might again bring Lebanon to its knees.

– ref. Hezbollah − degraded, weakened but not yet disarmed − destabilizes Lebanon once again – https://theconversation.com/hezbollah-degraded-weakened-but-not-yet-disarmed-destabilizes-lebanon-once-again-277327

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By José-Miguel Bello y Villarino, Senior Research Fellow, Sydney Law School, University of Sydney

Last week, one of Australia’s leading artificial intelligence (AI) researchers, Toby Walsh, warned Australia’s lack of guardrails for AI is putting young people at risk of being “sacrificed for the profits of big tech”.

Walsh’s remarks came after the government scrapped its own proposal to establish an advisory body of AI experts. Instead, the government offered its National AI Plan, which, among others, stresses investment in data centres, telecommunications infrastructure, and workforce training.

The plan also envisages an “AI Safety Institute” (currently recruiting staff), and also some internal AI transparency measures for the public sector. Transparency results so far have not been great.

What does it all add up to for AI regulation in Australia?

What are other countries doing?

The European Union has attracted attention for its AI Act, which already prohibits such things as using AI systems to exploit vulnerable groups or individuals. However, Europe is struggling to implement rules on high-risk AI uses that are not prohibited.

Several governments in Australia’s region are also passing AI laws, mainly to give themselves the powers to respond when they deem it necessary.

South Korea, Japan and Taiwan – none of them minor AI players – all have newly minted laws, which are meeting the expected pushback from industry.

Not everyone has comprehensive rules

There are countries without any kind of comprehensive AI regulation, including the United States and the United Kingdom.

In the US, president Donald Trump has even prohibited most state-based regulation in relation to private AI uses. Despite the anti-safeguards language, the government has quietly retained strong safeguards for federal use of AI.

The UK has followed an even more erratic path, to end up in a similar place to Australia. Incapable of deciding what to do, it has tried to provide technical (non-legal) safeguards. This has been done through the creation of the first AI Safety (now Security) Agency, hailed by some, derided by others.

The dilemma of control

The differences in approach between countries are not surprising. Governments face the dilemma of control described by English technology scholar David Collingridge almost 50 years ago:

when [regulatory] change is easy, the need for it cannot be foreseen; when the need for change is apparent, change has become expensive, difficult and time consuming.

What’s more, Australia has limited regulatory clout regarding AI. It is not a significant global AI player in the way it is, for example, in mining, so its influence is limited.

Facing these uncertainties, what should Australia be doing?

Australia’s plan for AI safety

One certainty is that erratic behaviour is not a great option. We have good evidence that regulatory predictability matters for innovation.

In a recent speech, Australia’s Assistant Minister for Science, Technology and the Digital Economy, Andrew Charlton acknowledged this:

one of the important insurance policies we have is regulatory certainty, underpinned by clear principles with broad buy-in.

So, what is the government’s plan?

The official plan to keep Australians safe is a section (action 7) in the National AI Plan. It argues existing Australian frameworks “can apply to AI and other emerging technologies”.

In other words, AI systems and tools can be covered by the rules we already have, such as consumer protections against all misleading and deceptive practices. The government suggested this option back in 2024. (We have previously argued this view, favoured by the Productivity Commission, is not well supported and was not our preferred option.)

Problems with the plan

However, the challenges for applying existing laws, which the government identified years ago, have not gone away.

As we identified in 2023, the existing regulatory frameworks have limitations when it comes to AI.

AI systems are complex, they can act semi-autonomously, and it can be difficult to understand why they do what they do. This makes it very hard to effectively attribute liability or responsibility for AI risks or harms using existing laws and processes.

Regrettably, those limitations have not been addressed systematically – if at all.

Fragmented rules and limited resources

As things stand, the regulatory landscape is highly fragmented and uncertain.

For instance, there are at least 21 mandatory (or quasi-mandatory) state and federal policies about the use of AI in government. Courts have so far had little opportunity to clear things up, with almost no test cases in crucial areas of existing law, including negligence, administrative law, discrimination law, and consumer law.

The new plan is accompanied by a clear commitment to monitor the development and deployment of AI “and respond to challenges as they arise, and as our understanding of the strengths and limitations of AI evolves”.

The issue is: how will that monitoring happen? Will the government really “empower every existing agency across government to take responsibility for AI”?

Dealing with issues such as privacy, consumer protection, anti-discrimination will take money and commitment and a degree of coordination between agencies we have not witnessed to date.

An uncertain future

For predictability, signals matter. A lot.

If there is a change in government in the US in 2028, will that change how Australia regulates AI – in the same way the beginning of the Trump presidency coincided with the abandonment of Australia’s mandatory AI guardrails proposals?

Is a laissez-faire regulatory approach creating predictability, when we have so many stalled and part-completed regulatory processes?

The government seems to expect courts, government agencies, businesses and individuals to work out on their own how to retrofit old laws and institutions to a new technological landscape.

There is some hope for regulation of automated decision-making in the public sector (promised after the Robodebt Royal Commission). For the rest, it’s a “wait and see” approach to AI regulation. We’ll have to wait and see if it works.

– ref. Australia’s official plan for AI safety isn’t much more than a single dot point. Will it be enough? – https://theconversation.com/australias-official-plan-for-ai-safety-isnt-much-more-than-a-single-dot-point-will-it-be-enough-276962

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Dan van den Hoek, Senior Lecturer, Clinical Exercise Physiology, University of the Sunshine Coast

The Australian Grand Prix launches the 2026 Formula 1 (F1) season at Melbourne’s Albert Park on Sunday.

While the US strikes on Iran forced many teams to change their travel plans, organisers are confident the event will go ahead without a hitch.

There is plenty to look out for as the F1 world turns its attention towards Melbourne: the season-opening race is the first of a new era, with changes to technical regulations, while Australian Oscar Piastri is ready to challenge for the drivers’ championship as the crowd watches to see if he can break a lengthy drought on home soil.

Key changes to technical regulations

While the cars will look similar to last season’s, they will be vastly different.

The core aim of the new regulations is to make racing more competitive and increase passing.

Compared with 2025, this year’s cars are smaller, more agile and use more electric power.

The Drag Reduction System (DRS) – an adjustable rear wing device to promote overtaking – has been phased out after being introduced in 2011.

Active aero is now part of the regulations – not just a grey area that teams have tried to exploit.

Active aero allows drivers to change the position of the front and rear wing to produce high drag for cornering (increasing downforce, grip and braking performance), or low drag to deliver more speed on straights.

The biggest regulation changes apply to the power units. The cars will keep their 1.6 litre, turbocharged V6 engines, but the hybrid system will be rebalanced, resulting in a roughly equal split between combustion and electric power.

With almost three times greater electrical power (an increase from 120 kilowatts to 350kW) available, drivers will need to manage the battery charge and deployment.

The cars are smaller and lighter than last season, with the wheelbase reduced by 200 millimetres (to a maximum of 3,400mm), total width reduced by 100mm (1,900mm max), and minimum vehicle weight by 30 kilograms, down to 768kg.

These changes are designed to increase agility and encourage more overtaking opportunities.

Why F1 made these changes

Technical resets are part of the competitive lifecycle in F1.

F1 teams build and unveil a new car every season because technical regulations are updated, and because the pace of development means last year’s design is unlikely to be fast enough to be competitive.

Major technical regulation resets happen every few years and 2026 is one of those bigger shifts.

Changes to technical regulations can improve racing, increase opportunities for previously struggling teams, and ensure innovation stays at the forefront.

Each revision challenges engineers to interpret the regulations with limited data, enabling early innovators to gain a competitive advantage.

This unpredictability can reinvigorate fans’ appeal as new contenders emerge.

The 2026 changes are also aimed at supporting sustainability ambitions.

F1 has committed to net zero carbon emissions by 2030, and the use of sustainable fuels reflects this. These commitments could help inform the development of new technologies that find their way into road cars, too.

What will the racing look like?

The lighter, smaller cars may produce more dynamic racing, particularly on narrower street circuits where the smaller cars are more manoeuvrable.

The introduction of active aero should also add a tactical layer, as drivers adjust their wing settings to balance cornering grip and straight line speed.

The increased electrical output of the power units though have raised concerns from some, including four-time world champion Max Verstappen, that F1 racing might resemble Formula E.

Formula E cars run exclusively on battery electrical systems, making energy management central to race strategy: drivers must balance speed with battery conservation, often lifting off the throttle early to regenerate energy through braking.

With battery management, electrical regeneration and deployment all becoming more strategic than before, we will have to wait and see.

Piastri’s weight of expectation

After coming agonisingly close to winning the World Drivers’ Championship last season, the hopes of a nation hang with Piastri.

Australia has produced F1 world champions (Jack Brabham and Alan Jones) but has never produced a winner of the Australian Grand Prix.

Since its move from Adelaide (1985–95) to Albert Park in 1996, the Australian race has opened the F1 season on 23 occasions, meaning it has been the debut race for many drivers.

While many drivers have been successful in their home races – including German Michael Schumacher (four victories at Hockenheim), UK driver Lewis Hamilton (eight wins at Silverstone) and Verstappen from the Netherlands (three victories at Zandvoort) – none of these have coincided with the first race of a season and the implementation of new technical regulations.

Piastri will have to manage the weight of expectation combined with the demands of driving a new car under new regulations, adding a substantial psychological load in his pursuit of a home race win.

His calm and analytical approach to racing should position him well to find early performance in the new car.

Read more: What happens to F1 drivers’ bodies, and what sort of training do they do?

But it’s not just about the driver – team performance and competitors’ adaptation will all play a role in whether Piastri is crowned champion at the end of the season.

The stage is set

So, the stage is set in Melbourne for the next chapter of F1, with Piastri Australia’s best title chance in recent times.

Changes to technical regulations rarely produce a predictable outcome. Drivers and teams go through periods of learning and experimenting to find performance.

The Australian Grand Prix is more than the start of a new season. It is the beginning of a new competitive landscape, where local fans will wait with bated breath to see whether Piastri can finally break the Australian GP hoodoo.

– ref. New rules and high expectations: can Oscar Piastri break Australia’s F1 drought? – https://theconversation.com/new-rules-and-high-expectations-can-oscar-piastri-break-australias-f1-drought-276624

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Henrietta Byrne, Postdoctoral Research Fellow, Sydney Centre for Healthy Societies, University of Sydney

You would hope for your dying days to be full of calm and care. But our research with people who are dying shows this is far from the reality for many people.

Instead, financial stress plays a huge and increasing role in who can afford a “good death”.

What we did

In our recent study, we interviewed 18 people nearing the end of life in a palliative care unit, as well as six family members and carers, and 20 palliative care professionals.

We asked what it was like to be dying, to care for someone at the end of life, and to work in palliative care.

Palliative care is for people of any age who have a life-limiting illness. This means they have little or no prospect of a cure. So the goal is to prioritise comfort and living well as they approach the end of their life.

In Australia, palliative care is meant to be mainly free, with most costs covered by state and federal governments, as well as private health insurance.

But our research shows the patchwork of public and private funding means many people are confused and overwhelmed about how to pay for this essential care.

But first, how does palliative care work?

Palliative care can be provided at home or in hospital, a hospice or residential aged care.

Who pays for palliative care depends on where it’s being provided (for example, in the private or public hospital system) and whether the patient has private health insurance.

Australia’s health system is a complex hybrid of public funding, private insurance, charity and out-of-pocket payments.

For dying people and their families, navigating this system can be bewildering.

Previous research has explored how palliative care is funded in Australia. But until now we haven’t heard much directly from patients, carers and workers about how this affects them.

‘It’s expensive being ill’

Our research took place at a specialist palliative care unit in a major city hospital.

People working in the unit told us the activity-based funding model – where hospitals are paid for the number and mix of patients they treat – puts the focus on efficiency, rather than quality of care.

Patients spoke about not wanting to leave behind debt, while carers described confusing and stressful costs.

Patients and families told us they often enter palliative care confused by the patchwork of short-term subsidies, waiting lists for government support packages and gaps they must fill themselves.

For example, some people we interviewed said they had been paying out-of-pocket for medications and essential equipment such as oxygen, which they expected government supports to cover.

But securing government funding, such as the Support At Home program, End-of-Life Pathway or Carer Payment, can sometimes take months to organise.

And once secured, this funding is only available for fixed periods of time. This means patients who live longer than expected can be left without financial security.

Diane*, a community team nurse, told us:

We’ve had people who’ve been referred to us [for end-of-life care] and they were told six weeks [until death], and two years down the track they’ve done their superannuation, they’ve spent it all, […] they’ve got no money left and they’ve still got to pay electricity and things like that. […] And they go, ‘Well, what do I do now?’

Emily* told us her first worry when she got to the palliative care unit was not about dying, but whether the cost would impact her kids:

I didn’t want the children to be loaded with any more debt [because of] me. I would rather [die] on the bench in the park […] the last thing you want to leave them is debt.

Another participant, Kevin*, put it bluntly:

It’s expensive being ill.

Participants who were dying also described feeling pressure not to “outstay their welcome” in a palliative care unit because “the beds are needed” or “the insurance won’t keep paying”.

Alana*, who described herself as a “long-hauler” in the unit, said:

Let’s face it, it’s a business. And I know that. They’re not getting as much money from me as they would for patients coming in and out.

Patients were acutely aware that in the current health system, time is money.

The cost of visiting

For family and friends, their concerns were less about medical bills and more about the price of simply being present.

Jane*, whose elderly mother was dying in the unit, noted the prohibitive cost of parking on site:

They make you pay $20 a day. Your loved one’s dying. Really? […] I’m petrified when I stay overnight […] ‘when does [the parking] run out? I’d better go down and repay’.

Financial stress also impacted whether families could make funeral arrangements. A senior nurse, Patricia*, recounted:

They would say, ‘I don’t have a funeral director. I don’t think we are able to pay for the cost for the funeral. Can you arrange something?’

Death is an economic – not just medical – issue

Our research reveals how money, and worrying about it, can affect people’s experiences when nearing the end of life.

To ensure everyone can access a death free from financial stress, we first need to talk more openly about how money factors into dying.

More accessible government funding for palliative care patients and carers could help ensure everyone has an equal chance of a good end of life. This should be available for as long as people need, rather than on fixed terms.

*Names have been changed for privacy.

– ref. A ‘good death’ has a price – and a new study shows not everyone in palliative care can afford it – https://theconversation.com/a-good-death-has-a-price-and-a-new-study-shows-not-everyone-in-palliative-care-can-afford-it-274202

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Alan Brent, Professor and Chair in Sustainable Energy Systems, Te Herenga Waka — Victoria University of Wellington

The government’s plan to import liquefied natural gas (LNG) has raised questions about whether this is the best approach to strengthening New Zealand’s energy security, not least because the conflict in Iran highlights price volatility.

Our analysis suggests it is not. And it casts doubt on the logic of imposing a levy on electricity to fund an LNG terminal, which the government expects to be operational in 2028.

That’s because New Zealand also has a goal to achieve 100% renewable electricity generation by 2030, which means it would be unlikely to need gas in the long term.

We examined whether a fully renewable grid could meet growing electricity demand as the economy decarbonises, and whether the system would be sufficiently resilient during dry years – the conditions that led to an energy security crisis in 2024.

We found existing commitments to invest in renewable electricity generation and storage systems to buffer fluctuations in supply could meet, and even exceed, future demand.

As a first step, we modelled the expected annual electricity generation and investment information provided by the Electricity Authority about renewable projects expected to be ready in 2030.

We assumed new solar, wind and geothermal projects would provide generation profiles similar to the assets already on the grid in 2024. We then asked what would be expected from hydropower to stabilise the intermittent generation of the other renewable sources.

We found that without offshore wind, the added renewable capacities would not be enough to meet a high-end scenario of a 34% increase in electricity demand projected by the Ministry of Business, Innovation and Employment.

Demand would exceed the maximum hydropower available (around 5.3 gigawatts) for 474 hours (5%) of the year in 2030. On 28 days (8% of the year), hydro lake reservoirs would reach their minimum levels.

Our model also shows hydro lake reservoirs would deplete at a faster rate during winter in 2030 than they did in 2024, when they reached low levels towards the end of winter. They would also recover faster, however.

But if offshore wind projects are added to the model, it shows New Zealand would need significantly less hydro electricity generation in 2030 compared to 2024.

There would still be instances during winter when demand would exceed maximum hydro power capacity. However, for up to 65% of the year, hydro electricity generation would not be required because other renewables would meet or exceed total demand.

Hydro levels would be kept full for almost the entire year, unlike in 2024.

Storage is crucial

We also modelled the required storage capacity and associated power output for both short-term and long-term needs to stabilise a 100% renewable grid.

Short-term refers to minutes and hours during any energy deficit and is usually covered by battery storage systems.

However, a renewable grid would also require long-term buffers to secure electricity generation for days or weeks, for example during dry years when lake reservoirs are depleted.

This could be achieved through pumped hydro systems, which use excess grid power to pump water to an upper reservoir so it can be released through turbines to generate electricity during high demand.

Since current investment plans for electricity generation don’t include any new hydro projects, our model assumes capacity from hydro generation in 2030 to be similar to 2024.

We found that even without offshore wind, there would be excess energy generated that could be stored and discharged when continuous supply is insufficient.

For the high-end scenario of a 34% increase in electricity demand, we found the maximum short-term power requirements would be 1.45 gigawatts over an hour. That is equivalent to about 15 of the newest commissioned utility-scale battery system at the Ruakākā Energy Park, which have a maximum power output of 100 megawatts.

However, the required long-term storage for normal years (2.58 gigawatts over around 600 hours, or 1.58 terawatt hours) is about a third of the potential requirement during a dry year of 4.5 terawatt hours. This suggests New Zealand would need significant additional long-term storage.

How to keep the power on

New Zealand could avoid power shortages during dry years by combining battery systems with pumped hydro schemes.

For batteries, New Zealand already has a regulatory roadmap in place. For long-term storage, a private consortium has applied for a fast-track consent to revive the scrapped pumped-hydro project at Lake Onslow. This project alone could cover the entire long-term storage needs, or several smaller projects could provide the necessary capacity.

As of February this year, the grid operator Transpower had more than 24 gigawatts of renewable generation and battery energy storage systems in various stages of development. At the end of 2025, nearly 500 megawatts of utility-scale battery projects were underway or scheduled in the next two years.

Our findings echo comments by industry leaders that New Zealand may well be overbuilding capacity. Enough battery capacity will be added to stabilise intermittent generation, and the existing hydro power capacity will cater for long-term storage in a normal year.

For growth in electricity demand beyond 2030, a variety of long-term energy storage technologies such as compressed air energy and advanced flow batteries are expected to become competitive and enter the market.

The government plans to fund the construction of a new LNG terminal through a levy on electricity. Our findings raise the question of why the country would put a levy on power to pay for infrastructure that in all likelihood the electricity sector won’t actually need.

– ref. New modelling shows renewable electricity can meet NZ’s future demand – without importing gas – https://theconversation.com/new-modelling-shows-renewable-electricity-can-meet-nzs-future-demand-without-importing-gas-277215

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Andrew Weeks, Associate Senior Research Scientist, The University of Melbourne

If you follow media coverage of koalas, you could be forgiven for feeling confused.

Recent stories describe a “koala paradox”: endangered in the north of Australia, abundant in the south; genetically diverse in some regions, genetically depleted in others.

Koalas populations are often described simultaneously as being in crisis, or overabundant. These accounts attempt to capture the complexity of this species across different histories and geographic locations. But they also reveal a deeper problem with how we assess genetic risk in wildlife (the likelihood a population will go extinct because it has lost too much genetic diversity).

Our new [research] shows relying too heavily on genetic indicators – how genetic diversity and inbreeding are measured – can be misleading. And we found the koala to be a powerful case study for a much broader lesson in conservation.

The assumption we rarely question

Conservation often rests on a simple logic: a population crash – a rapid and steep decline in population size – reduces genetic diversity and increases inbreeding. Genetically diverse populations, meanwhile, are believed to be more resilient and less susceptible to decline.

This logic is not wrong, but it is incomplete.

It treats genetic health as static, rather than a dynamic outcome shaped by how populations grow or shrink over time. Koalas provide a useful test. Different populations have experienced very different histories; from extreme collapse followed by rapid recovery, to slower but ongoing decline.

What we found and what their DNA reveals

We analysed DNA from 418 koalas sampled across 27 populations in Queensland, New South Wales and Victoria. This allowed us to reconstruct their population history and size over time. We also examined how different genetic variants respond to population decline and recovery. What emerged was surprising.

Koala populations with higher genetic diversity, particularly those in northern Australia, tended to carry more harmful variants. They also showed declining population sizes. In contrast, populations that had passed through severe historical crashes but were now expanding, showed signs of genetic recovery.

This does not mean population crashes are harmless. They are dangerous and can be irreversible. But it does mean they are not always evolutionary dead ends.

Why recovery can start before diversity rebounds

The key lies in how DNA responds when populations grow rapidly. Generally speaking, when populations expand, recombination (the reshuffling of genetic material each generation) spreads new genetic combinations through the population. This breaks up inherited blocks of DNA and generates new genetic variation. In turn, this can increase a population’s ability to adapt, allowing numbers to grow faster than traditional genetic indicators might suggest.

In koalas, this process is clearly visible. As populations expand, genes are mixed and matched in new ways, creating new genetic variation. Many traditional genetic indicators fail to detect these changes. However, our analyses can reveal them.

This suggests genetic indicators of diversity can lag behind the true health of a population, and sometimes mislead conservation assessments. A population may appear genetically depleted if we rely only on these indicators, even while its diversity is quietly being rebuilt. Conversely, a population can look genetically healthy while its population size is actually becoming unstable, putting that diversity at risk over time.

Correcting a common misconception

Victorian koala populations are often portrayed as genetically compromised because they experienced an extreme population crash in the past. Our results show a more nuanced picture.

Victorian populations still carry the genetic signature of this extreme crash, when fewer than 1,000 koalas remained in the wild. However, many are now on a path to genetic recovery. At the DNA level, their genes are being reshuffled and new genetic variation is appearing. This represents the early stages of genetic recovery, not genetic collapse.

The greater long-term concern is for populations that are rapidly declining but still appear genetically healthy. If population size collapses, genetic diversity can be lost very quickly.

Why this matters beyond koalas

Our results suggest the picture for koalas is more nuanced than previously thought. Southern “inbred” populations are growing again and gaining genetic diversity, whereas northern populations are shrinking, regardless of how genetically diverse they appear today.

This matters far beyond koalas. Many threatened species have experienced population crashes, translocations or reintroductions (such as on French Island and Kangaroo Island) and rapid environmental change. If we judge their future using static genetic indicators, we risk getting the picture wrong, both about their risk of genetic decline and their chance of recovery.

What matters just as much is the direction a population is heading. Is population size rising or falling? Are new genetic variants appearing or disappearing? Is recombination boosting their evolutionary potential, or being choked by small population size?

Rethinking genetic risk

One of the most important messages from our study is this: low genetic diversity does not automatically imply high extinction risk. And high genetic diversity does not guarantee safety. Genetic indicators only make sense when we consider the population’s history, and whether its numbers are rising or falling. Without that context, even well-intentioned conservation decisions can miss the mark.

Koalas, so often used as symbols of the conservation crisis, offer something rare: direct evidence that genetic recovery is possible, and insight into how to detect it early.

If conservation genomics is to guide policy effectively, it must move beyond static genetic indicators. We need to start tracking where populations came from and where they are headed, not just where they are now.

– ref. We thought inbred koalas were at risk of extinction. But what we discovered upends genetic conventions – https://theconversation.com/we-thought-inbred-koalas-were-at-risk-of-extinction-but-what-we-discovered-upends-genetic-conventions-276981

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Erik Meijaard, Honorary Professor of Conservation, University of Kent

Mammals are not especially diverse. Roughly 6,800 mammal species are known to exist, compared with about 8,800 species of amphibian, 11,000 species of bird and 12,500 of reptile. Yet when most people picture biodiversity, they often think of charismatic mammals first: pandas, orangutans, elephants or tigers.

That visibility comes with scrutiny. Mammals are among the best-studied organisms on Earth – and among the most threatened. On the international inventory of the conservation status of species, more than one in four mammal species is classified as vulnerable, endangered or critically endangered.

Because they are so intensively researched, it’s genuinely rare for scientists to find and formally describe a new mammal species. The discovery of the olinguito (Bassaricyon neblina) made global headlines as the first new carnivorous mammal identified in the Americas in 35 years.

In 2017, DNA evidence revealed the world had not six species of great ape, but seven, when the Tapanuli Orangutan (Pongo tapanuliensis) was found to be distinct. It was the first new great ape species described in nearly a century.

Describing a new species is exciting enough. But identifying an entirely new genus is something else altogether. A genus is a taxonomic group covering more than one species, sitting one level above a species in the Linnaean taxonomic classification system, established by Carl Linnaeus. For example, in the scientific name Homo sapiens, Homo is the genus (or genera in plural).

There are only about 1,300 genera of living mammals worldwide. Discovering a totally new genus of mammal happens only a few times a year, if that; some stunning examples include Nagasorex, a distinctive shrew from Nagaland, India in 2025; Paucidentomys, a Sulawesi rodent in 2012; and Laonastes, a rock rat from Laos in 2005.

So, creating a new genus is a rare event and a real privilege. But that is exactly what we just have done – describing a new genus of a small gliding possum in Indonesian Papua.

Finding a Lazarus species

Our story begins with a single photograph.

In 2015, a plantation worker in Indonesian Papua (the western half of the island of New Guinea) caught an unfamiliar tree-dwelling marsupial and took several pictures. We cannot name him, as the location has to be kept secret.

He was part of a citizen science-based biodiversity monitoring project which asked plantation workers to photograph or record the sounds of wildlife they encountered during their work.

The large-eyed, brownish, furry creature, with unfurred ears, superficially resembled an Australian greater glider. But there were clear differences. The photos showed an obvious patagium, or gliding membrane, and a prehensile tail, furred to the top, except for a naked area on the lower side.

The animal did not match any known species from the island of New Guinea. When we examined the images, we realised it closely resembled a possum known only from a handful of fossil bones. These fossils, initially named Petauroides ayamaruensis, had been discovered decades earlier in archaeological sites in West Papua and more recently in Papua New Guinea.

The bones were from a small member of a group of Australian gliding possums called hemibelidines, or ringtail possums. Until recently, this lineage was thought to exist only in eastern Australia. But on the huge, biologically diverse island of New Guinea, there was no sign of its existence. Scientists presumed it had gone extinct around 6,000 years ago.

The photo was evidence this was not the case. What we were looking at appeared to be a “Lazarus species”: one that had vanished from the fossil record, only to reappear alive.

Other famous “Lazarus” examples include the Coelacanth, a large species of fish thought to be extinct for 66 million years until it was rediscovered off the South African coast in 1938.

Meet the new genus, Tous

To confirm our suspicions, we analysed the photographs and made careful comparison with the fossil teeth from Papua and new partially fossilised material from a different location in PNG. The size and shape of mammal teeth and their cusps are very important in distinguishing species. Our analysis of fossil and photographs strongly suggested these all referred to the same animal.

To confirm it, we drew on knowledge shared by local Indigenous landowners who have always known about this animal – it is sacred to some tribal groups in the region.

This confirmed the animal was not only a surviving individual of the fossilised possum, but distinct enough to require an entirely new genus, which we have named Tous.

“Tous” is a local vernacular term applied to this forest species, which is locally recognised as distinct from smaller gliders. During interviews with traditional landowners, elders identified the animal in photographs as “Tous wansai”, distinguishing it from other similar arboreal marsupials.

That makes this discovery exceptionally rare. Establishing a new genus means identifying a lineage that has been evolutionarily separate for millions of years.

In this case, the evidence suggests Tous is from an ancient branch of the possum family tree, one that once extended from Australia to New Guinea, and today survives in a small, vulnerable corner of the Papuan forests. Traditional knowledge indicates Tous roots in tree hollows in the tallest rainforest trees. Like Australia’s greater glider, it is vulnerable to logging.

Protecting the new species

It is this vulnerability that concerns us most. When we formally described Tous, we did not disclose the precise location the original photograph came from. We are unfortunately not able to identify the local Indigenous landowners for similar reasons. With its large forward-facing eyes, soft fur and prehensile tail, Tous is undeniably appealing to wildlife traffickers.

In an era of social media–driven wildlife trade, that appeal can be dangerous. Newly discovered species have sometimes been pushed toward exploitation almost as soon as they are announced. There were, for example, only 22 years between the rediscovery of the Javan rhinoceros in Vietnam in 1988 and its confirmed extinction because of poaching in 2010.

Protecting Tous will not be straightforward. We still don’t know its full range, but all evidence suggests it is restricted to a small region of New Guinea where lowland forests are under pressure from logging and agricultural expansion. Even in the photos, you can see logging debris and planted oil palm in the background. Local people told us it forms a pair and is monogamous, producing a single baby in a year. This likely low reproduction rate means it is especially vulnerable to hunting and habitat loss.

The knowledge that led us to this discovery came not only from fossils and photographs, but from local communities who have known this animal for generations.

If conservation builds on that knowledge, and if communities benefit from keeping wildlife alive rather than harvesting it, then Tous may have both a past and a future.

– ref. Meet ‘Tous’ — an entirely new genus of mammal we identified. Here’s why it’s so exciting – https://theconversation.com/meet-tous-an-entirely-new-genus-of-mammal-we-identified-heres-why-its-so-exciting-277235

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By David Ubilava, Associate Professor of Economics, University of Sydney

Conflict between the United States, Israel and Iran has now led to the effective closure of the Strait of Hormuz, a key shipping route through which a fifth of the world’s oil passes.

But oil is not the only important commodity that has been disrupted. The Middle East is a key supplier of fertiliser, exporting some 45% of global supply.

Since the beginning of the conflict, the price of urea, a key source of nitrogen used in agriculture, has surged by about 25%, similarly dramatic to the spike in crude oil prices.

This is unwelcome news for Australia, which is a large importer of urea. With effectively no domestic urea production, Australia is fully exposed to global supply shocks.

For farmers, the crisis is not just of affordability, but potentially availability as well. And the timing is far from perfect, with winter crop planting starting soon.

Consumers almost always feel a major oil shock shortly afterwards at the fuel pump.

But if there’s a major shock for fertiliser to grow wheat, do consumers soon see rising prices of bread, flour and beer?

Usually not – and here’s why.

A key ingredient for crops

Urea is a key fertiliser used for agricultural production globally. It’s a concentrated source of nitrogen, widely used by farmers to boost crop and pasture growth.

Australia used to produce some of its own urea. But after fertiliser giant Incitec Pivot shut down its Gibson Island manufacturing facility (near Brisbane) in 2022, the country was left with virtually no domestic production.

A major new fertiliser plant, Perdaman’s Project Ceres (in Western Australia), isn’t expected to come online until 2027.

Right now, more than half of Australia’s urea imports come from United Arab Emirates, Qatar and Saudi Arabia. These countries are all impacted by the conflict and shipping disruption.

How will farmers respond?

Economic theory makes a straightforward prediction: when the price of an input (such as fertiliser) rises, holding everything else constant, it becomes optimal to produce less.

In the present scenario, without close substitutes, one might expect a sustained fertiliser shock would reduce agricultural production and lead to higher prices for consumers.

This is unlikely to happen, however, and there are several reasons for it.

We have been here before

To begin, we have been here before. In this century alone, urea prices have surged substantially on two occasions: first in the late 2000s, then again in the early 2020s.

Focusing on wheat – one of Australia’s key exports, which relies on fertiliser for its production – in both instances, the price spikes were followed by an increase in production.

This may sound perplexing. But this price relationship isn’t like that of crude oil and petrol, where the former input is the main ingredient of the latter final output. While crucial, urea and other fertilisers are just some of many inputs used to grow food.

Indeed, the key input in agricultural production is weather. Much of the variability we see in agricultural yields is driven by climatic shocks rather than costs of fertilisers or other inputs.

Other cogs in the machinery

A recent study found in high-income countries such as Australia, commercial agricultural producers are both able and willing to absorb increased input costs.

It also found, perhaps surprisingly, neither fertiliser demand nor farm profitability were substantially affected by the 2021–2022 fertiliser price surge. An important part of the reason why was high agricultural commodity prices, especially cereal crops (such as wheat).

This neatly aligns with the theory we referred to earlier. Even though fertiliser prices spiked, other factors (such as grain prices) did not remain constant. This somewhat balanced out the effect rising fertiliser costs may have had on production.

Your grocery bills

So, what does all of this mean for the price of bread, meat, rice and other staples in your shopping trolley?

The Reserve Bank of Australia says it’s “too early to say” what the conflict could mean for inflation.

Certainly, if the disruption persists for a long time, the burden of the fertiliser shortage will fall on many Australian farmers.

But even if that happens, in high-income countries such as Australia the price of food is largely determined by the cost of processing, packaging and marketing – not the prices paid to farmers.

A surge in urea prices, in and of itself, may not drive food prices higher. But it won’t help ease other inflationary pressures, either.

– ref. Fertiliser costs are soaring amid war in the Middle East. Will your grocery bill follow? – https://theconversation.com/fertiliser-costs-are-soaring-amid-war-in-the-middle-east-will-your-grocery-bill-follow-277511

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Emily Brayshaw, Honorary Research Fellow, School of Design, University of Technology Sydney

Amanda Seyfried wears a “prosthetic butthole” in her new movie, The Testament of Ann Lee.

She told BBC Radio 2:

This movie needed to be graphic, so I wore a prosthetic butthole. […] It was cool. It was exciting. I was pregnant and naked, but I wasn’t naked at all. And at the end of the movie I was standing in front of a burning building with just a merkin. I felt so free.

On the surface, Seyfried’s comments might seem like a case of TMI. Audiences generally only see costume as a tool that helps to create and support a narrative. But costume also performs the important, invisible technical function of a quasi-body the actor inhabits to transform into their character.

Actors have intimate interactions with their costume that audiences don’t notice, including personal physical experiences of warmth, cold, comfort, coverage, restriction or movement.

But some roles can require the actor to portray intense emotional vulnerability, or distressing events, which can leave them feeling anything from mildly embarrassed to deeply traumatised.

By creating a costume that can be taken off, even when the character appears to be naked, costume designers help create an important separation between the role and the actor.

Taking care of the actor

Historically, actors have often been expected to do whatever appalling things the director demanded of them, regardless of the consequences to their physical or mental health.

Actors have also been expected to manage their own emotions in these roles. While many have different processes to help them exit the role, they still rely on theatre and film professionals like stage managers, dressers and directors to help manage their sources of emotion and distraction.

An important part of leaving the character behind involves taking off the costume at the end of a play or scene. But if your own naked body is the character’s costume in a scene, then how can you take it off?

Every actor has a different approach. Some don’t mind appearing nude for laughs, while others might use body doubles for sex and nude scenes, which provides them with a surrogate body.

The newer job of intimacy coordinators has developed in the past 15 years to help protect actors on stage and set. These are professional advocates who establish the ground rules, look out for the actors’ physical and emotional wellbeing, and assist with the choreography during scenes that require intimate touching, nudity or sex.

Actors and intimacy coordinators collaborate closely with the costume department to ensure the actor will be protected during nude and sex scenes with the right type of coverage.

Costume designing for ‘nudity’

Costume departments have a host of garments, accessories, prosthetics and hacks to protect an actor’s dignity in nude and sex scenes. These include modesty patches, fake nipples, stick on bras, strapless thongs and pouches that cover the genitals. These can be attached to the body with fashion tape or kinesiology tape.

The devices are made to match the actor’s skin tone and can be padded with a thick material (think yoga mat fabric) or made from a hard plastic to mitigate the impact of being touched or grabbed. Other costume hacks, such as merkins, have been around for hundreds of years.

The use of these devices means you won’t see the actor’s actual private parts or pubic hair; you’ll see the character’s.

This crucial distinction gives the actor a body they can take off.

Read more: Skims has put merkins back on the fashion map. A brief (and hairy) history of the pubic wig

Creating Ann Lee’s naked body

The Testament of Ann Lee covers the life of the founder of the Shaker faith over three decades and shows how she used her religious faith to process the pain and grief of physical tribulations, sexual abuse and the loss of her children, and to inspire others.

Seyfried has described the role of Ann Lee as “fucking daunting” and “really scary”, and has said the part needed to be graphic to show the strength of Lee’s faith in the face of extreme adversity.

Towards the end of the film, local thugs who do not want the Shakers to establish a church near their village attack Lee and her fellow worshippers at night and burn down their church. The thugs strip Lee and beat and humiliate her, accusing her of being a man and of being a witch. Ann Lee’s naked body is on display in front of the burning church during the brutal scene.

This is the scene where Seyfried wore a merkin and the “prosthetic butthole” – likely a modesty sticker, or a strapless, skin-toned thong with the merkin on the front that covered the vulva, perineum and anus.

The pubic wig is seen but the fake anus is not. But wearing them meant Seyfried could focus on the intensity of her acting and fully embody Lee in the scene, without worrying about her own dignity.

The modesty garments also gave Seyfried a body she could take off, leaving any potential for personal trauma, embarrassment or pain from playing Ann Lee behind her.

– ref. Amanda Seyfried’s ‘prosthetic butthole’ isn’t a joke – costuming nudity is important for actors – https://theconversation.com/amanda-seyfrieds-prosthetic-butthole-isnt-a-joke-costuming-nudity-is-important-for-actors-277233