I live on the edge of Parramatta, Australia’s fastest-growing city, on the kind of old-fashioned suburban street that has 1950s fibros constructed in the post-war housing boom, double-storey brick homes with Greek columns that aspirational migrants built in the 1970s and half-crumbling, Federation-era mansions once occupied by people whose names still appear in history textbooks.
Parramatta’s population is predicted to almost double in the next 20 years. My street, like so many others, has recently been rezoned for high-density living. Many of these houses are being sold to developers.
It’s a local story but it’s also a national one: suburbs near our cities are disappearing everywhere along with the crucial histories of Australian life they represent.
Australia is still a suburban nation: 70% of us live in the suburbs and this figure is increasing with the rapid growth of “McMansion” areas in the far outskirts of our cities.
Suburbia looms large in our imagining of ourselves, so what happens when we lose those suburban streets whose houses are too young to be heritage-listed but still old enough to tell an important story of our social and economic history? As urban researcher Larry Bourne argued, we have yet to really write the history of suburban life because we haven’t paid enough attention to recording the private everyday experiences of people and their homes there.
So that’s what I’ve been doing for the past several months, walking the street with suburban photographer Garry Trinh and talking to my neighbours about their relationships with their homes before they are lost.
A few houses down from me, Craig lives in a cottage that he believes “shows a different attitude towards life”. He spends his weekends restoring parts of his home.
It takes a lot of time to maintain. People took longer to do things. They had a different sense of time – they did things one time so they didn’t have to do it again.
He enjoys the idea that living in a house like this “you grow old together”. He shows me the places where the tiles on the floor don’t fit perfectly. The “walls and roofs are never even”, but that’s part of the place’s charm – you can see where others have added a living room or tried to fix a leak.
These homes have layers of history that don’t exist anywhere else.
To Craig, these houses represent why other generations felt more of the kind of safety and security that allowed them to build a greater sense of community.
You used to buy one house and you never changed it, one car […] people stayed in the same place […] people feel so restless now because we are no longer safe. Everything changes. Our houses are rezoned. There’s no certainty.
Jenny’s parents bought the largest block on the end of the street because the previous owners refused to sell to developers. She recently moved back home to care for her mother.
It’s a sprawling Federation-era home called “Coo-Wong” and it feels like big history must have happened there, despite its absence from any local history archives. There are clues, though, about the kind of people who might have lived here before: Chinese coins found on the property, a shed full of bric-a-brac.
Mostly, the whole family lives in the kitchen or the light-filled corner at the back of the house where Jenny’s mother grows flowers. Her father’s family lost everything during the Cultural Revolution and he moved here to find a better life. He’s in the building industry and their home is filled with the spare parts from other houses, doors, drawers and other supplies that might go into extending or renovating their home one day.
Jenny remembers when they moved into the neighbourhood there was an older generation of people who embraced them. There were fruit trees and “all of these edible things in people’s yards”. In their backyard, a giant satellite dish, which her parents bought to watch their shows from China, still looms big even if it isn’t needed anymore.
It’s these small details in Jenny’s home that tell the larger story of how various generations of migrants sewed themselves into the fabric of our suburbs.
George, his wife, Jennifer, and their two adult children live in the house George’s father built in 1973 when the street was filled with vacant blocks. His family was the first to move here from their village in Lebanon, so their house became a kind of community hub – there were always people there.
George’s family passed the plans he used to build the house onto other Lebanese families that moved in. It means there are slightly different versions of this house in many other places on the street.
George’s dad and his uncles built many houses in this area together. Sometimes they didn’t quite get it right though: only one door in their house is hung straight – all the rest are hung backwards. The family has been trying to restore parts of the house for a long time, including the Art Deco railings and Victorian lights.
As an expert in post-war housing, Mirjana Lozanovska says this layering of architectural details found in these post-war suburban homes “expanded the image and aesthetic spectrum of what it is to be Australian”.
Carol lives in a long row of houses at the end of the street that are all for sale. She has, to put it lightly, a lot of stuff. Her odd collection of tents and furniture and well-loved succulents spill from her house to its immense lawns.
The quest for affordable housing has pushed Carol further and further west over time. When the landlord sells the house she’ll head further away, looking for some other suburban street where the houses are still intact and maybe there’ll still be lemon trees.
Felicity Castagna and Garry Trinh were able to undertake the research and photography for this article with support and funding provided by Parramatta Artists’ Studios’ Next Project.
There is an ongoing global debate over whether the high inflation seen in the aftermath of the COVID-19 pandemic can be lowered without a recession.
New Zealand is not immune to this issue. Reserve Bank governor Adrian Orr has said a recession is needed to tame inflation – described as a “hard landing”. Others have disagreed, arguing New Zealand could and should aim for a soft landing (a reduction of inflation with no recession).
But are reductions in inflation inextricably linked to recessions?
New Zealand’s own economic history, it turns out, can give some guidance on this, and point to the risk factors within the country’s economic outlook.
Are we in recession yet?
There is no hard and fast definition of a recession. The term “technical recession” is widely used to refer to a period with two consecutive quarters of negative real growth in gross domestic product. By this measure, New Zealand entered a recession at the end of last year.
But many economists prefer the alternative definition from the National Bureau of Economic Research (NBER) in the United States: a recession is “the period between a peak of economic activity and its subsequent trough, or lowest point”.
Technical recessions and recessions meeting the NBER criteria do not always coincide.
In 2014, two researchers used the Bry-Boschan algorithm, which is based on the NBER definition, to identify New Zealand’s recessions between 1947 and 2012.
The question is whether we can identify these recessions in real time rather than in hindsight. The so-called Sahm rule stipulates a recession is likely when the unemployment rate starts to increase after recent lows, which can help with timely analysis of the economic conditions.
The dashed line in the graph below shows a recession indicator based on unemployment, dating back to 1986 when quarterly unemployment data was first published. The indicator usually coincides (within one quarter) with the start of a recession based on the Bry-Boschan algorithm.
Since 1961, New Zealand has experienced eight falls in inflation (disinflations) of four percentage points or more. (Disinflation refers to when inflation drops but remains positive, while “deflation” occurs when the inflation rate falls below zero).
This four percentage point drop is required for New Zealand’s inflation to reach the Reserve Bank’s target of 1-3%, down from the 7.3% recorded in the third quarter of 2022.
Each letter in the graph above identifies the inflation peak before historical disinflation episodes. The shaded area identifies recessions up to 2012.
The graph shows four drops in inflation – B, E, F and C – seem to be associated with recessions, while drops A, D and G were not. Disinflation G does have a recession quite late in the piece, the Asian Financial Crisis, but approximately half the inflation fall had already occurred before the crisis took hold.
The message is a positive one: a fall in inflation does not necessarily have to be associated with a recession.
But are any of the historical disinflation episodes more instructive than others about what might happen in the current situation?
Disinflations D and G, which were associated with soft landings, followed increases in short-term interest rates (such as New Zealand has recently experienced). Disinflation D was also helped by a halving in oil prices between November 1985 and March 1986.
Disinflation H is a bit of an anomaly. The inflation peak in 2011 was an artificial high as it came on the back of an increase in the goods and services tax in 2010.
A common theme with hard landings
Turning to the hard landings in the sample, early 1974 saw a large increase in oil prices after the 1973 Arab-Israeli war. The resulting global recession, coupled with restrictive domestic fiscal policy to quell oil price-induced inflation, contributed to disinflation between the second quarter of 1976 and the fourth quarter of 1978 (marked B on the graph).
Disinflation F, between the second quarter of 1990 and the first quarter of 1992, again occurred against the backdrop of a slowdown in the world economy. This reflected, in part, the increase in oil prices in 1990 due the first Gulf War, and tight domestic monetary and fiscal policies.
Disinflations B and F share similarities with New Zealand’s current situation, including restrictive (monetary) policy and unrest in the Middle East. Oil prices are up more than 15% this year, although they are yet to reach their mid-2022 highs.
Disinflations C and E were also associated with recessions reflecting global events. During deflation C, events in Iran led to an oil price increase, which both directly and through policy actions sent the US into recession in the early 1980s.
Disinflation E coincided with the October 1987 sharemarket crash which set off instability in New Zealand’s newly-liberalised financial system.
So if New Zealand is not currently in a recession, what are the country’s chances of avoiding one while trying to reduce inflation?
History suggests it is possible. But favourable global conditions are needed and, in particular, favourable geopolitics. Recent events in the Middle East, coupled with the ongoing war in Ukraine, are not positive signs.
Michael Ryan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
In the early hours of ANZAC Day, aerial photographs captured an impressive gathering of Australians and Papua New Guineans at Isurava in the Northern (Oro) Province.
The solemn dawn service yesterday was held at a site steeped in history, where some of the fiercest battles of World War II unfolded along the Kokoda Trail in 1942.
The ceremony, marked by deep reflection and remembrance, was attended by notable dignitaries including Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese and Papua New Guinea Prime Minister James Marape.
Wreath laying at the Battle of Isurava memorial site, Papua New Guinea’s Northern Province. Image: PNG Post-Courier
The presence of both leaders underscored the enduring camaraderie and shared history between the two nations, as participants paid homage to the valour and sacrifices of those who fought on these grounds.
This year’s ANZAC Day observances at Isurava not only commemorated the past but also reinforced the bonds of friendship and mutual respect that continue to flourish between Australia and Papua New Guinea.
Paying homage at the Battle of Isurava memorial site. Image: PNG Post-Courier
Marape commends Biage people over WWII
Prime Minister James Marape commended the Biage people of Northern Province for the significant role they played in World War II until today.
He said this at an emotional ANZAC Day dawn service at Isurava along the Kokoda Trail attended by the Biage people, Australian Prime Minister Albanese, Northern Governor Garry Juffa, Australian High Commissioner John Feakes, members of the Australian and Papua New Guinea defence forces, Australian and PNG officials, alongside 200 Australian trekkers making a pilgrimage and their porters.
PNG Prime Minister James Marape and Australian Prime Minister Albanese walking the Kokoda Trail. Image: PNG Post-Courier
The dawn service was the highlight of a two-day trek by the two prime ministers from Kokoda to Isurava and was the first time ever for the Biage people to see two prime ministers together at the same time.
Prime Minister Marape said the Biage people were a peaceful people forced into a war that was not their doing and greatly assisted Australia forces during the dark days of WWII.
Governor Juffa also spoke about the remarkable role of the Biage people, who he said formed the bulk of the “Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels”, during WWII.
PNG Prime Minister James Marape and Australian Prime Minister Albanese shake hands on the Kokoda Trail. Image: PNG Post-Courier
The Biage people continue to show their peacefulness and hospitality by being guides and porters in the lucrative Kokoda trekking industry, PNG’s biggest tourism product.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Ian Kemish, Adjunct Professor, School of Historical and Philosophical Inquiry, The University of Queensland
There can be no more powerful symbol of the relationship between Australia and Papua New Guinea than the prime ministers of these neighbouring countries walking together on the gruelling Kokoda Track towards Isurava, high in PNG’s rugged Owen Stanley mountains.
The place where Anthony Albanese and James Marape chose to commemorate ANZAC Day was the scene of one of the toughest battles in the Pacific war, the Battle of Isurava. This is where raw Australian conscripts and militiamen fought back against an invading Japanese force in August 1942 until veteran reinforcements arrived. Their combined efforts inflicted heavy losses on the Japanese and, crucially, slowed their advance.
The Australians were supported throughout this and many other battles on the track by Papua New Guineans – the stretcher bearers who carried the wounded back to safety and the soldiers of the Papuan Infantry Battalion.
This moving collaboration has become the reference point for generations of leaders from both sides of the Torres Strait when speaking of the special relationship between the two countries. It has also inspired many Australian individuals and organisations to “give back” to PNG through financial donations and other support.
Papuan New Guinean stretcher bearers carry a wounded Australian on the Kokoda Track in 1942. Australian War Memorial
How history informs Australia’s view of PNG
The events of 1942 had a lasting impact on Australian strategic thinking about its neighbourhood.
During the war, Australia’s lifeline to the United States across the Pacific was under direct threat from Japan’s sweep across the region. The military objective of the Japanese forces on the Kokoda Track was the capital, Port Moresby, because of its utility as a base for ongoing attacks against Australian ships and cities. For a while, an invasion of Australia itself seemed to be imminent.
The protection of Australian lines of supply and communication across the Pacific remains a central consideration in contemporary strategic thinking.
Australia’s deep sensitivity to any suggestion a potentially hostile power may be seeking to establish a naval base in the region actually predates the second world war. However, the very real threat that materialised on the Kokoda Track entrenched this view.
PNG still looms large in Australian deliberations about regional security – given its size, this wartime history and its proximity to Australia and pivotal location where Asia meets the Pacific.
Sergeant C. Ryan of Goulburn, NSW, conducts weapon training with two members of the Papuan Infantry Battalion in 1943. Australian War Memorial
Of course, it is no longer Japan that Western strategists see as the principal strategic adversary and potential threat to stability in the Pacific. That mantle has been assumed by China, which in recent years has displayed an active interest in expanding its military links and presence in the region.
Japan has now become an important strategic ally for Australia and the United States in working to counter China’s growing influence in the Pacific, including PNG. It has made important contributions to the region’s development through aid and other economic support.
Papua New Guineans naturally have their own understanding of history, as well as today’s security environment. As Marape said last week in response to a gaffe by US President Joe Biden about his uncle having possibly been eaten by cannibals after being shot down during the second world war,
World War II was not the doing of my people. However, they were needlessly dragged into a conflict that was not their doing.
As in other parts of the Pacific, there is no enthusiasm at all in PNG about the re-emergence of geo-strategic competition in the region. PNG leaders have joined their Pacific counterparts in emphasising climate change as the key regional security challenge and criticising their international partners for stoking tensions with China.
At the same time, there is an underlying lack of enthusiasm in PNG about expanding the country’s ties with China to include defence or policing ties.
The Marape government came under real pressure from Beijing to sign agreements covering police training and other security co-operation in the lead-up to Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi’s visit to Port Moresby last week. Ultimately, it did not do so.
Marape and his ministers have made it clear they look to Australia – not China – as their country’s key security partner.
China may have ambitions to establish a security partnership with PNG similar to the one it has signed with Solomon Islands, but it clearly has no interest in matching Australia as a development partner for the country.
Its aid spending in PNG – as in the rest of the Pacific – is very minor in comparison to Australia and may be in decline. Beijing has shown in Solomon Islands, at least, that it prefers to focus its money on nurturing relationships with members of the ruling elite.
However, China has made significant inroads as a commercial partner for PNG. Its construction firms now dominate the work taking place across the country to develop roads, bridges, public buildings and other infrastructure.
But China cannot match the breadth of the PNG relationship with Australia. This relationship encompasses social, cultural and sporting ties, as well as longstanding investment, aid and defence co-operation links.
Kokoda may have become a kind of public talisman for the Australia-PNG relationship, but there is much more to the two countries’ shared history than the wartime experience, as Marape made clear in his speech to the Australian parliament in February.
To make this point, he highlighted the presence in the parliamentary gallery of elderly former Australian patrol officers and their families who had dedicated their lives to the early development and administration of his country. He spoke with gratitude about the period during which Australia administered PNG – and with pride about the years since independence.
History holds all the details, for the greatest and most profound impact of the Australian administration is the democracy you left with us.
It was clear from this speech he believes Australians underestimate the depth of their own historical ties with PNG. Australians should take some comfort, in these uncertain strategic times, from the ballast these shared experiences provide for the relationship today.
Ian Kemish is a former Australian High Commissioner to PNG and is the voluntary chair of the Kokoda Track Foundation, which receives some funding from the Australian Government. In addition to his UQ role, he is affiliated with the Griffith Asia Institute and the ANU National Security College.
Sexual consent has been a major focus in Australia for the past few years.
In early 2022 the federal government mandated consent education in schools. This includes information about what consent is, and how to ensure consensual relationships.
Across Australia, four states (Victoria, New South Wales, Queensland and Tasmania) and the Australian Capital Territory have now passed affirmative consent laws. While the precise wording of the laws differs between jurisdictions, affirmative consent can be defined as the need for “each individual person participating in a sexual act to take steps to say or do something to check that the other person(s) involved are consenting to a sexual activity”.
There have also been important campaigns, such as the Make No Doubt campaign in NSW, to educate about safe, pleasurable and consensual sex.
One challenge with sexual consent education is determining how it translates to real-life situations. As part of broader research seeking to answer this question, we wanted to understand how young heterosexual men and women understand and practice consent.
Our new study found that while participants mostly understood the concept of affirmative consent, they didn’t always put it into practice in the heat of the moment.
Our research included a mixed group of 44 men and women aged 18 to 35, who were in relationships, dating or single. We spoke to them in focus groups and presented a variety of heterosexual sexual consent vignettes (scenarios) to discuss.
We wanted to understand how participants thought the characters should handle these situations, and how they would deal with these scenarios themselves. Scenarios were designed to be somewhat ambiguous, with no clear right answer.
An example of a vignette we used was Julia and Mark. They meet for drinks on their first date, and the chemistry is strong. They end up at Julia’s place, where she tells him she wants to take things slow and won’t be having sex that night. They start making out, and both begin to shed layers of clothing. Mark hesitates, unsure whether to continue, and Julia is uncertain how to signal her interest in other types of intimacy after setting a boundary.
Alongside the vignettes, we asked participants to share their understandings of consent, and their reflections on gender expectations around dating and sex, among other issues.
Participants demonstrated a clear understanding of consent practices in line with the affirmative consent framework. This included understanding that consent was the responsibility of all parties involved. Danny, a 23-year-old man, said:
It’s like equal responsibility in my eyes.
Participants also noted that straightforward, open communication alongside consistent verbal check-ins was important. As Abigail, a 26-year-old woman, said:
Both parties need to be actively engaging and checking boundaries as you go.
In theory versus reality
Despite appearing to understand the principles of affirmative consent, participants reacted differently when presented with varying scenarios. Instead of noting equal responsibility, most participants believed men in the scenarios were responsible for getting consent, and women providing it.
In discussing the scenarios participants highlighted the need to avoid assumptions and to encourage open communication. But this perspective shifted when discussing personal experiences and sexual consent. Here, participants expected partners to understand typical boundaries during sexual encounters, suggesting a shared sense of what’s “normal”.
In fact, participants felt following good sexual communication practices could dampen the enjoyment of sexual encounters. Some admitted that even though they knew the ideal approach, they didn’t always stick to it. As Alice, a 25-year-old woman, said:
Everything’s going well and we’re hitting it off, and then it moves into the bedroom and things just seem to flow, and I feel comfortable not having to necessarily overtly have that conversation then and there.
Lenore, a 28-year-old woman, said:
Sometimes, like, a conversation can almost kill the vibe, like if that moment is […] really hot and passionate and you’re giving them all the signals and they’re giving you all the signals, and then he was like, ‘So I want to just check in with you for a second’, I would be like, ‘Dude, come on, like, let’s just do the thing.’
Jeremy, a 34-year-old man, said:
I’ve regularly asked someone are they having a good time, you know, ‘is this okay’, ‘is this okay’, and be told, ‘No, you’ve ruined the moment’, which I found quite perplexing as someone who believes strongly in making sure there’s always consent.
There’s been an increased focus on consent education in recent years. Mayur Gala/Unsplash
Participants also indicated affirmative consent was more important in some sexual situations over others. In discussing one of the vignettes, Lenore said:
It would really depend on what he [scenario character] tried, to be honest, like if he’s flipped me around and chucked me into a new position, like, yeah, go for it. If he’s slapped me across the face in the middle of sex without clearing that first, no. It would completely depend on what it was and the way that he goes about doing it.
Implications
Our study is relatively small and cannot be generalised to the broader Australian population. We also focused only on consent in heterosexual relationships.
Nonetheless, our research provides some insight into how young men and women may be navigating consent during sex. The results don’t imply education on sexual consent is ineffective. Rather, they highlight a significant gap between knowing and applying that knowledge.
Our findings also point to a broader and more complex issue: the need for a whole-of-society approach to rethink sexual communication and consent. One in five women have experienced sexual violence, suggesting deeper problems of masculine entitlement and societal attitudes toward women. Focusing on consent between sexual partners is one way of shifting attitudes.
Sexual encounters often involve intricate layers of emotion and experience, influenced by culture, religion, and other factors, with elements like shame, pleasure, joy, uncertainty, fear and anxiety.
Understanding the complex variables that inform decision-making in these contexts is crucial for creating educational resources that help people navigate sexual consent in different situations.
Andrea Waling receives funding from the Australian Research Council, the Commonwealth Department of Health, and the Medical Research Future Fund.
Alexandra James receives funding from the Commonwealth Department of Health and Lifestyles Australia.
Lily Moor does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Sharon Robinson, Distinguished Professor and Deputy Director of ARC Securing Antarctica’s Environmental Future (SAEF), University of Wollongong, University of Wollongong
Andrew Netherwood
Over the last 25 years, the ozone hole which forming over Antarctica each spring has started to shrink.
But over the last four years, even as the hole has shrunk it has persisted for an unusually long time. Our new research found that instead of closing up during November it has stayed open well into December. This is early summer – the crucial period of new plant growth in coastal Antarctica and the peak breeding season for penguins and seals.
That’s a worry. When the ozone hole forms, more ultraviolet rays get through the atmosphere. And while penguins and seals have protective covering, their young may be more vulnerable.
Why does ozone matter?
Over the past half century, we damaged the earth’s protective ozone layer by using chlorofluorocarbons (CFCs) and related chemicals. Thanks to coordinated global action these chemicals are now banned.
Because CFCs have long lifetimes, it will be decades before they are completely removed from the atmosphere. As a result, we still see the ozone hole forming each year.
The lion’s share of ozone damage happens over Antarctica. When the hole forms, the UV index doubles, reaching extreme levels. We might expect to see UV days over 14 in summers in Australia or California, but not in polar regions.
Luckily, on land most species are dormant and protected under snow when the ozone hole opens in early spring (September to November). Marine life is protected by sea ice cover and Antarctica’s moss forests are under snow. These protective icy covers have helped to protect most life in Antarctica from ozone depletion – until now.
A series of unusual events between 2020 and 2023 saw the ozone hole persist into December. The record-breaking 2019–2020 Australian bushfires, the huge underwater volcanic eruption off Tonga, and three consecutive years of La Niña. Volcanoes and bushfires can inject ash and smoke into the stratosphere. Chemical reactions occurring on the surface of these tiny particulates can destroy ozone.
These longer-lasting ozone holes coincided with significant loss of sea ice, which meant many animals and plants would have had fewer places to hide.
You can see how the size of the ozone hole in 2019 (top left) and 2020 (top right) differs from the mean ozone hole area between 1979 and 2018. Maps of ozone area for September to December show how the ozone hole disappeared early in 2019 (November, middle panel) but extended into December in 2020 (lower panel) NASA Ozone Watch, CC BY-NC-ND
What does stronger UV radiation do to ecosystems?
If ozone holes last longer, summer-breeding animals around Antarctica’s vast coastline will be exposed to high levels of reflected UV radiation. More UV can get through, and ice and snow is highly reflective, bouncing these rays around.
In humans, high UV exposure increases our risk of skin cancer and cataracts. But we don’t have fur or feathers. While penguins and seals have skin protection, their eyes aren’t protected.
Is it doing damage? We don’t know for sure. Very few studies report on what UV radiation does to animals in Antarctica. Most are done in zoos, where researchers study what happens when animals are kept under artificial light.
Even so, it is a concern. More UV radiation in early summer could be particularly damaging to young animals, such as penguin chicks and seal pups who hatch or are born in late spring.
As plants such as Antarctic hairgrass, Deschampsia antarctica, the cushion plant, Colobanthus quitensis and lots of mosses emerge from under snow in late spring, they will be exposed to maximum UV levels.
Antarctic mosses actually produce their own sunscreen to protect themselves from UV radiation, but this comes at the cost of reduced growth.
Trillions of tiny phytoplankton live under the sea ice. These microscopic floating algae also make sunscreen compounds, called microsporine amino acids.
What about marine creatures? Krill will dive deeper into the water column if the UV radiation is too high, while fish eggs usually have melanin, the same protective compound as humans, though not all fish life stages are as well protected.
Four of the past five years have seen sea ice extent reduce, a direct consequence of climate change.
Less sea ice means more UV light can penetrate the ocean, where it makes it harder for Antarctic phytoplankton and krill to survive. Much relies on these tiny creatures, who form the base of the food web. If they find it harder to survive, hunger will ripple up the food chain. Antarctica’s waters are also getting warmer and more acidic due to climate change.
An uncertain outlook for Antarctica
We should, by rights, be celebrating the success of banning CFCS – a rare example of fixing an environmental problem. But that might be premature. Climate change may be delaying the recovery of our ozone layer by, for example, making bushfires more common and more severe.
Ozone could also suffer from geoengineering proposals such as spraying sulphates into the atmosphere to reflect sunlight, as well as more frequent rocket launches.
If the recent trend continues, and the ozone hole lingers into the summer, we can expect to see more damage done to plants and animals – compounded by other threats.
We don’t know if the longer-lasting ozone hole will continue. But we do know climate change is causing the atmosphere to behave in unprecedented ways. To keep ozone recovery on track, we need to take immediate action to reduce the carbon we emit into the atmosphere.
Sharon Robinson receives funding from the Australian Research Council and is a Deputy Director within the Securing Antarctica’s Environmental Future program. She is Dean Researcher Development at the University of Wollongong and is a member of the UN Environment Programme (UNEP) Environmental Effects Assessment Panel (EEAP) which assesses how ozone depletion impacts life on Earth.
Laura Revell receives New Zealand government funding from the Royal Society Te Apārangi (Marsden fund and Rutherford Discovery Fellowships), Deep South National Science Challenge and Ministry for Business, Innovation and Employment. She is a member of the UN Environment Programme (UNEP) Environmental Effects Assessment Panel (EEAP) which assesses how ozone depletion impacts life on Earth.
Rachele Ossola receives funding from the Swiss National Science Foundation. She is a member of the UN Environmental Program (UNEP) Environmental Effects Assessment Panel (EEAP), which assesses how ozone depletion affects life on Earth.
Biodiversity is declining at rates unprecedented in human history. This suggests the ways we currently use to manage our natural environment are failing.
One emerging concept focuses on giving legal rights to nature.
Many Indigenous peoples have long emphasised the intrinsic value of nature. In 1972, the late University of Southern California law professor Christopher Stone proposed what then seemed like a whimsical idea: to vest legal rights in natural objects to allow a shift from an anthropocentric to an intrinsic worldview.
Ecuador was the first country to enshrine rights of nature in its 2008 constitution. Since then, a growing number of countries have followed in awarding rights of nature.
This includes Aotearoa New Zealand, where legal personhood was granted to the Whanganui River, the former national park Te Urewera and soon the Taranaki maunga.
At its core, the rights-of-nature movement allows persons to take legal action on behalf of natural ecosystems, as opposed to on behalf of people affected by environmental degradation.
Ecosystems can become separate entities with their own agency, in the same way other non-human entities such as charitable trusts and organisations can exist as separate entities in law.
But can the movement help stem the loss of biodiversity? There is no easy answer. Our new research shows that many rights-of-nature examples have emerged because current systems were not enough to protect nature from continued economic pressure from development.
We find one of the key features of well designed rights-of-nature frameworks lies in defining who is ultimately liable, and what for.
The design of rights-of-nature frameworks varies widely in geography, legal status, guardianship and who holds liability.
We investigated 14 global rights-of-nature examples and categorised them by types of guardianship. For example, in 2008, Ecuador enshrined rights of nature in its constitution because of decades of pressure from large mining companies.
This represents a type of public guardianship where every citizen has the right to take legal action on behalf of nature.
In New Zealand on the other hand, the former national park Te Urewera was granted legal personhood with Tūhoe trustees as appointed guardians.
A legal person is defined as an entity which has the capacity to enter into contracts, incur debts, sue and be sued in its own right, and to be accountable for illegal activities. We define rights-of-nature cases with appointed guardians as “environmental legal personhoods”.
We then compared these cases to explore why they emerged and how they are designed. Who advocated on behalf of the environment? What was the exploiting activity putting pressure on the ecosystem? What is the liability status of the guardians?
We found that, overwhelmingly, Indigenous people and local communities acted as advocates. For example, the Whanganui River in New Zealand was granted legal personhood in 2017 as a result of hundreds of years of resistance by Indigenous Māori to aggressive colonisation.
Since 1848, the Crown has introduced a steamer service, cleared forest from river banks, extracted sand and gravel, and diverted water into a power scheme. This led to ongoing conflict with Whanganui iwi who raised concerns about the river’s health and the desire to preserve the resource for future generations.
Response to sustained economic pressure
On the other side of the world, the Mar Menor lagoon in Spain was declared a legal person in 2022 due to strong local community advocacy against pollution from agriculture, mining and sewage.
The evidence from our research points to a fundamental divide between local communities and external economic interests. The rights-of-nature movement has come as a response to sustained pressure from economic (urban, agricultural and industrial) activity. The features of design, however, vary significantly.
For example, the Victorian state government in Australia established the Victorian Environmental Water Holder, an independent statutory body under the state’s Water Act 1989, as a legal person. It manages water entitlements to improve the health of rivers and wetlands. The entity acts indirectly on behalf of the ecosystems, which is not precisely the same as creating legal rights for rivers themselves.
The Whanganui River, on the other hand, was itself declared a legal person. Its appointed guardians have the legal status of a charitable entity. This group includes representatives of Whanganui iwi and the government, supported by members of councils, locals, and recreational and commercial users.
Liability matters
The recent overturning of two rights-of-nature decisions in particular puts the spot light on the importance of liability.
In the US, farming operations challenged the Lake Erie Bill of Rights in 2020, which granted Lake Erie the right to “exist, flourish and naturally evolve”. Farmers argued the bill was too vague and would expose them to liability from fertiliser runoff.
In India, the Ganges and Yamuna rivers were granted living-person status, where injury to rivers was to be treated equally to injury to human beings. The decision was challenged on the grounds of uncertainty about who the custodians are and who would be liable to pay damage to the families of those who drowned in the rivers.
Both these were legally overturned, meaning these natural entities no longer have rights of nature. This suggests attention to legally defining who is liability for what may be an important building block for the movement to protect biodiversity in the future.
Our recommendation is that future rights-of-nature frameworks need to have well-defined legal rights and include appointed guardians, established as separate legal entities with limited liability, as well as the support of representatives from interest groups.
Viktoria Kahui does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Finding the best person to fill a position can be tough, from drafting a job ad to producing a shortlist of top interview candidates.
Employers typically consider information from several sources, including the applicant’s work history, social media presence, responses to interview questions and sometimes, psychometric testing results.
It’s also common for hiring managers to check an applicant’s references by chatting to the candidate’s nominated referees or reading over their letters of recommendations.
Reference checks tend to be the final hurdle; a sort of background check for the candidate’s job history and credentials.
Nearly every employer does reference checks, but research suggests there are important limitations worth keeping in mind.
Inconsistency can be a problem
A reliable selection method produces a consistent measure of candidate suitability. In other words, reliability enables an apples-to-apples comparison of each candidate.
But early research into reference checks found referees tend to give substantially different ratings to the same candidates.
This inconsistency is problematic because it is unclear if a favourable report reflects genuine suitability or the candidate was fortunate enough to nominate a lenient referee.
Part of the problem is employers often do not take a structured approach to obtaining information from referees.
For instance, if asked overly general or vague questions about the candidate, each referee may focus on different aspects of past job performance or omit negative information.
Research suggests using a standardised set of questions can produce more reliable outcomes. This provides a stronger basis for making a meaningful comparison between candidates.
Unfortunately, even using a standardised assessment, referees still tend to disagree on their ratings.
This disagreement may still be worthwhile, as it can reveal important contextual differences in the candidate’s performance. For instance, one referee may have observed a candidate leading a team, while another may have only seen their project work.
However, employers still need to make sense of these different perspectives.
A reference is a poor indicator of future performance
A valid selection method is job-specific and provides useful information about how a candidate will actually perform in the role.
Reference checks are a relatively easy hurdle for candidates to overcome because referees are typically self-selected, and most job seekers can find at least one colleague who is willing to speak positively about them.
Pre-hiring assessments can reveal information about a person’s job knowledge, cognitive ability, integrity, personality, and emotional intelligence where appropriate. They are especially useful for screening numerous applicants, such as for graduate recruitment programs.
Ultimately, the job selection process should be tailored to the role requirements. For instance, if a role requires strong writing skills, this could be assessed through work samples or pre-hiring assessments.
Some candidates could be disadvantaged
A fair selection method is one that is unbiased and avoids giving weight to irrelevant information. It does not disadvantage people because of characteristics such as gender identity, age, or cultural background.
From this perspective, reference checks have several potential problems.
One is that candidates may not have access to referees of similar credibility.
For instance, a person from a high socioeconomic background is more likely to have access to senior leaders or experienced professionals in relevant fields who are willing to provide positive reports.
Reference checks may perpetuate existing inequalities.
In most cases, referees will want to provide positive reports. If the referee is a close colleague of the job applicant, they may be concerned that negative reports will be traced back to them and affect their ongoing relationship.
And employers may be motivated to offer under-performers a glowing review to get rid of them.
Most references are difficult to verify, so referees are unlikely to suffer damage to their reputation if they talk up an average candidate, especially if the referee is outside the employer’s professional network.
Research suggests letters of recommendation can actually disadvantage female candidates by planting doubts about their suitability.
For instance, letters about female candidates more frequently contain negativity (such as, “does not have much teaching experience”), faint praise (“needs minimal supervision”) and hedging (“has the potential to become a strong performer”).
These types of statements can lead employers to evaluate female candidates more harshly.
While reference checks remain common, their limitations are clear. They can be unreliable, offer only moderate validity in predicting performance at best and raise fairness concerns.
However, reference checks shouldn’t be discarded. By implementing structured questioning and adopting other well-established employee selection methods, references can still be included as a final step in a robust hiring process.
Timothy Colin Bednall does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
The hyper-arid desert of Eastern Sudan, the Atbai Desert, seems like an unlikely place to find evidence of ancient cattle herders. But in this dry environment, my new research has found rock art over 4,000 years old that depicts cattle.
In 2018 and 2019, I led a team of archaeologists on the Atbai Survey Project. We discovered 16 new rock art sites east of the Sudanese city of Wadi Halfa, in one of the most desolate parts of the Sahara. This area receives almost no yearly rainfall.
Almost all of these rock art sites had one feature in common: the depiction of cattle, either as a lone cow or part of a larger herd.
On face value, this is a puzzling creature to find carved on desert rock walls. Cattle need plenty of water and acres of pasture, and would quickly perish today in such a sand-choked environment.
In modern Sudan, cattle only occur about 600 kilometres to the south, where the northernmost latitudes of the African monsoon create ephemeral summer grasslands suitable for cattle herding.
The theme of cattle in ancient rock art is one of most important pieces of evidence establishing a bygone age of the “green Sahara”.
Archaeological and climatic fieldwork across the entire Sahara, from Morocco to Sudan and everywhere in between, has illustrated a comprehensive picture of a region that used to be much wetter.
Climate scientists, archaeologists and geologists call this the “African humid period”. It was a time of increased summer monsoon rainfall across the continent, which began about 15,000 years ago and ended roughly 5,000 years ago.
The wastes of the Atbai Desert, north-east Sudan – a very different landscape to the ‘green Sahara’. Julien Cooper
This “green Sahara” is a vital period in human history. In North Africa, this was when agriculture began and livestock were domesticated.
In this small “wet gap”, around 8,000–7,000 years ago, local nomads adopted cattle and other livestock such as sheep and goats from their neighbours to the north in Egypt and the Middle East.
When the prehistoric artists painted cattle on their rock canvasses in what is now Sudan, the desert was a grassy savannah. It was brimming with pools, rivers, swamps and waterholes and typical African game such as elephants, rhinos and cheetah – very different to the deserts of today.
Cattle were not just a source of meat and milk. Close inspection of the rock art and in the archaeological record reveals these animals were modified by their owners. Horns were deformed, skin decorated and artificial folds fashioned on their neck, so-called “pendants”.
A strong relationship between human and animal: a cow with a modified ‘neck’ pendant and horns. Julien Cooper
Cattle were even buried alongside humans in massive cemeteries, signalling an intimate link between person, animal and group identity.
The perils of climate change
At the end of the “humid period”, around 3000 BCE, things began to worsen rapidly. Lakes and rivers dried up and sands swallowed dead pastures. Scientists debate how rapidly conditions worsened, and this seems to have differed greatly across specific subregions.
Local human populations had a choice – leave the desert or adapt to their new dry norms. For those that left the Sahara for wetter parts, the best refuge was the Nile. It is no accident that this rough period also eventuated in the rise of urban agricultural civilisations in Egypt and Sudan.
The most common image in the local rock art was of cattle. Julien Cooper
Some of the deserts, such as the Atbai Desert around Wadi Halfa where the rock art was discovered, became almost depopulated. Not even the hardiest of livestock could survive in such regions. For those who remained, cattle were abandoned for hardier sheep and goats (the camel would not be domesticated in North Africa for another 2,000–3,000 years).
This abandonment would have major ramifications on all aspects of human life: diet and lack of milk, migratory patterns of herding families and, for nomads so connected to their cattle, their very identity and ideology.
New phases of history
Archaeologists, who spend so much time on the ancient artefacts of the past, often forget our ancestors had emotions. They lived, loved and suffered just like we do. Abandoning an animal that was very much a core part of their identity, and with whom they shared an emotional connection, cannot have been easy for their emotions and sense of place in the world.
For those communities that migrated and lived on the Nile, cattle continued to be a symbol of identity and importance. At the ancient capital of Sudan, Kerma, community leaders were buried in elaborate graves girded by cattle skulls. One burial even had 4,899 skulls.
Today in South Sudan and much of the Horn of Africa, similar practices regarding cattle and their cultural prominence endure to the present. Here, just as in ancient Sahara, cattle are decorated, branded and have an important place in funeral traditions, with cattle skulls marking graves and cattle consumed in feasts.
As we move into a new phase of human history subject to rapid climate oscillations and environmental degradation, we need to ponder just how we will adapt beyond questions of economy and subsistence.
One of the most basic common denominators of culture is our relationship to our shared landscape. Environmental change, whether we like it or not, will force us to create new identities, symbols and meanings.
In the free-for-all between the Australian government and Big Tech boss Elon Musk this week, the government had to be on a winner.
Most people would have little sympathy with Musk’s vociferous opposition to being told to take down from X (previously Twitter) the video of the stabbing of bishop Mar Mari Emmanuel at a Sydney Assyrian church.
Admittedly the matter isn’t clear cut, and the bishop himself has now said he wasn’t opposed to the video being on the platform, citing freedom of speech and freedom of religion.
But in this case public interest in removing (partially – it can still be found) the depiction of a violent alleged crime trumps arguments about censorship.
The alleged attack, over which a 16-year-old boy has been charged, fell within the definition of a terrorist act. The video’s suppression is justified to try to reduce the risk of further violence – the stabbing had been followed by a riot – including copycat attacks.
This point was reinforced when this week counter terrorism police raided Sydney houses and arrested minors with alleged connections to the boy. Five were later charged with terrorism-related offences. Police had been keeping watch on the youths but decided they “posed an unacceptable risk to the people of NSW, and our current purely investigative strategies could not adequately ensure public safety”.
The fight between Musk and the government is in court. But in the court of public opinion, Anthony Albanese’s rejection of the up-yours attitude of the man he labels an arrogant egotistical billionaire is likely to resonate with many Australians.
This isn’t just, or even mainly, because of the video incident. It’s that so many people are increasingly alarmed about the harm social media is doing. For all its pluses, its destructive aspects are becoming more and more threatening, and frustration at the (often ugly) muscle of the tech companies is growing.
Leave aside the way these platforms have debased political debate, with many users losing all inhibitions as they lash out, not to mention trolling and the like.
Go to the issue of domestic violence, which Attorney-General Mark Dreyfus described the other day as an “epidemic”. It has multiple roots, but there’s little doubt appalling material on parts of the internet is a contributor.
Some parents despair about how addiction to social media can capture their children as strongly as addiction to hard drugs. Young kids access degrading porn. Susceptible teens have their mental health destabilised. Parents are told to monitor their children’s use of social media, but that often proves impossible.
Tech companies see themselves as free markets for communications. But dysfunctional markets require regulation, or effective self-regulation.
Ways to do this may not be easy or obvious. But you get the impression Big Tech is on notice and the pressure will only become greater. Big Tech needs to win a social licence, something it often fails to comprehend.
Another battle the Albanese government has been waging is over the decision of Meta (which owns Facebook and Instagram) to stop paying for news content harvested from other sites.
The former government, under Treasurer Josh Frydenberg, struck a deal for platforms to pay for content they obtained from other media, the proceeds of which went back into journalism. With the deal expiring, Meta has walked away from the arrangement, and Facebook has just closed its news tab in Australia although it still has news in its feed. It says this is part of its general step back from news. The implied threat is to stop carrying news in Australia – a course Meta has followed in Canada.
The money involved is peanuts, while the implications for an Australian community where so many young people access their news through these platforms, rather than in the legacy media (TV, newspapers, radio), are significant.
On yet another front, this week the chief of ASIO Mike Burgess and the Australian Federal Police Commissioner Reece Kershaw appeared jointly at the National Press Club with a plea for more cooperation from the tech companies, especially in dealing with the challenges the expansions of end-to-end encryption poses for intelligence gathering and law enforcement.
Burgess said he wasn’t asking the government for more powers. “I am asking the tech companies to do more. I’m asking them to give effect to our existing powers and to uphold existing laws.
“Without their help in very limited and strictly controlled circumstances, encryption is unaccountable. In effect, unaccountable encryption is like building a safe room for terrorists and spies, a secure place where they can plot and plan.”
Kershaw said: “Some of our children and other vulnerable people are being bewitched online by a cauldron of extremist poison on the open and dark web.
“That’s one serious problem. The other is that the very nature of social media allows that extremist poison to spray across the globe almost instantaneously.
“We can look at it another way. Social media companies are refusing to snuff out the social combustion on their platforms. Instead of putting out the embers that start on their platforms, their indifference and defiance is pouring accelerant on the flames.”
Opposition communications spokesman David Coleman is urging a minimum age (say 16), with age verification, for access to social media. While this would see pushback from young people and difficulties in enforcement, Coleman points to legal obligations related to age in both the United Kingdom and Florida. He concedes no online regulation is perfect but argues it would be far better than the current situation.
Coleman says the eSafety Commissioner recommended a trial of “age assurance” technology, which could include social media in its scope. “The fact that kids are seeing this horrendous, violent material on social media is just completely unacceptable. We wouldn’t accept it if it was TV. We wouldn’t accept it if it was movies, we wouldn’t let ten-year-olds access this sort of material. And yet on social media, it happens every single day,” he said on radio this week.
The debate over social media has brought back into the frame the government’s proposed legislation to crack down on “misinformation” and “disinformation”. An exposure draft it earlier released has been on the backburner, with more consultations after a broad backlash on freedome-of-speech grounds.
The government hopes the fuelling of concern about social media by recent events will help muster support for whatever new version of this legislation it produces. But while there is overlap, the misinformation/disinformation debate should be treated separately. It involves core free speech issues, and the balance of risks is different from the harms caused by the worst aspects of social media. It is dangerous territory and should be approached very warily.
Michelle Grattan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Chief Mandla Mandela, a member of the National Assembly of South Africa and Nelson Mandela’s grandson, has joined the Freedom Flotilla in istanbul as the ships prepare to sail for Gaza, reports Kia Ora Gaza.
Mandela is also the ambassador for the Global Campaign to Return to Palestine.
When he met with flotilla participants yesterday, including the Kia Ora Gaza team from Aotearoa New Zealand, he said: “It was not only our efforts in South Africa that defeated the apartheid regime, but it was also efforts in every corner of the world through international solidarity of the anti-apartheid campaign.”
Chief Mandla Mandela talks to the Freedom Flotilla. Video: Freedom Flotilla/Palestine Human Rights
Mandela said that while his grandfather was incarcerated for life imprisonment on Robben Island, he drew “immense inspiration” from the Palestinian struggle.
He added that Palestine “was the greatest moral issue of our time, yet many governments choose to remain silent and look away”.
“Many have been complicit in the genocide, the ethnic cleansing, the war crimes, and crimes against humanity that have been meted out on a daily basis against our Palestinian brothers and sisters — not just the 7th of October, but for the past 76 years.”
— Chief Mandla Mandela
Incredible to see Mandla Mandela address Gaza Freedom Flotilla participants in Istanbul today.
He spoke of his grandfather Nelson Mandela’s deep love for the Palestinian struggle and how Palestine inspired generations of South Africans in their fight for freedom. pic.twitter.com/6aVwwB4fIu
Journalists who report on environmental issues are encountering growing difficulties in many parts of the world, reports Reporters Without Borders.
According to the tally kept by RSF, 200 journalists have been subjected to threats and physical violence, including murder, in the past 10 years because they were working on stories linked to the environment.
Twenty four were murdered in Latin America and Asia — including the Pacific, which makes these two regions the most dangerous ones for environmental reporters.
From restrictions on access to information and gag suits to physical attacks, the work of environmental journalists and their safety are increasingly threatened.
RSF has denounced the obstacles to the right to information about ecological and climate issues and calls on all countries to recognise the vital nature of the work of environmental journalists, and to guarantee their safety.
Nearly half of the journalists killed in India in the past 10 years — 13 of 28 — were working on environmental stories that often also involved corruption and organised crime, especially the so-called “sand mafia,” which illegally excavates millions of tons of this precious resource for the construction industry.
Amazon deforestation Journalists covering the challenges of deforestation in the Amazon are also constantly subjected to threats and harassment that prevent them from working freely.
The scale of the problem was highlighted in 2022 by the murder of Dom Phillips, a British reporter specialised in environmental issues.
“Regarding the environmental and climate challenges we face, the freedom to cover these issues is essential,” said RSF’s editorial director Anne Bocandé.
Analysis by Dr Bryce Edwards, Democracy Project (https://democracyproject.nz)
Political scientist, Dr Bryce Edwards.
Prime Minister Christopher Luxon has surprised everyone with his ruthlessness in sacking two of his ministers from their crucial portfolios. Removing ministers for poor performance after only five months in the job just doesn’t normally happen in politics.
That’s refreshing and will be extremely well received. The public will perceive this unprecedented move as a sign that Luxon has very high standards for his government and is determined that his ministers actually deliver results.
Brutal sackings will be popular
Appearing on 1News’ 6pm news last night, I described the demotions as “brutal sackings”, adding that although I thought the moves would be popular, few should believe Luxon’s explanation that the need to replace Melissa Lee was because they needed someone more senior: “Melissa Lee is one of the most senior, experienced politicians in National. She’s the third-longest serving National MP, so it doesn’t quite add up that she wasn’t experienced. She’s been in that portfolio since 2017” – see 1News’ ‘Collective sigh of relief’ likely over Lee’s sacking – Jennings
The demotions have been strongly applauded by Newstalk broadcaster Heather du Plessis-Allan who argues that Luxon’s strong style of “performance management” is just what the public wants at the moment – especially after many years in which much worse poor performance has been accepted by prime ministers with a lower threshold of expectations – see: NZ deserves Luxon’s style of performance management
She says that Luxon’s show of strength is a massive contrast with the last government: “What’s happened today will shock a lot of people, because over the last few years we’ve got used to Prime Minsters just putting up with their ministers doing a bad job or behaving badly in public. Kiri Allan, Phil Twyford, Michael Wood, Clare Curran, even Nanaia Mahuta – the Foreign Minister who didn’t like international travel. It took forever for Hipkins or Ardern to demote the under-performers, and they suffered for it – public opinion of them was tainted.”
The “kindness” attribute displayed towards their colleagues by recent prime ministers is now very out of step with an electorate that desperately wants politicians to get things done.
Of course, there’s always been a sense in which prime ministers are expected to be ruthless towards their colleagues – something that former Cabinet Minister Peter Dunne emphasises today in his column, Luxon gets out his butcher’s knife – briefly
In this, he points to the phrase used by William Gladstone, the former PM of Britain: “the first essential for a Prime Minister is to be a good butcher.”
Luxon is sending a strong message
Dunne says that Luxon’s brutal ministerial reshuffle “has sent two clear messages – one to both Ministers that they are on their last warning, and that they will be unceremoniously shown the door if anything else goes wrong. The second warning is to all other Ministers about the Prime Minister’s limited tolerance for poor performance and the fate that might await them in such circumstances.”
He also argues that it would have been detrimental for both the Government and Luxon’s own reputation if the two ministers had been kept in place, and so it was smart to get them out of the way before the Budget.
She also says that Luxon has read the room well, unlike previous PMs: “Too often, prime ministers let flailing ministers stay in their jobs too long, either to save face or to risk looking as if they are conceding they made the wrong choice.” But she warns that such demotions are a balancing act, because if you do it too much it becomes a negative: “There is a bit of risk to Luxon in this approach: if you end up moving too many ministers around for shonky performances, it starts to look a bit chaotic.”
National Party insider Ben Thomas has also described the demotions as rather brutal, comparing them to some of former PM John Key’s: If Luxon’s mentor, former prime minister John Key, was the so-called ‘smiling assassin’, the current National party leader might be more like a corporate drone strike: affectless, unperturbed, and delivering the bad news in clinical HR speak” – see his column in The Post: Luxon unleashes the corporate drone strike (paywalled)
But Thomas admits that there’s a chance that the sackings, occurring so soon after Luxon appointed these ministers, might reflect poorly on his original decision to appoint them: “To paraphrase The Thick of It’s Malcolm Tucker, it has usually been thought that if the PM sacks you after a year, you’ve effed up; if he sacks you after a week, he’s effed up by appointing you.”
Newsroom’s political editor Laura Walters also points out how soon the demotions have come: “fewer than 150 days into the term was not a good look for the Government – something Newsroom understands Luxon’s staff raised with him” – see: Melissa Lee’s media Hail Mary comes up short
RNZ’s political editor Jo Moir suggests it’s a bad look in terms of diversity in Cabinet for Luxon to be sacking two women and bringing in a man (Climate Change Minister Simon Watts). But she says for Luxon “competence in the job, or lack thereof, had to trump anything else” – see: Aces in their places: Luxon plays coy over ministers’ competence. But Moir points out the positive of having Watts come into Cabinet: “It will also bring to an end the frustration from climate and environment quarters over the climate change portfolio being outside Cabinet in the first place.”
The other possible message that the demotions send, according to Kelly Dennett of The Post, “is that Luxon is taking delivery seriously; that it’s productivity or bust in this corporate-styled National-led Government” – see: What Luxon really means when he says ‘this is how I roll’ (paywalled)
But she wonders if Luxon is using too much “corporate-speak” in these types of announcements. His phrase that “This is how I roll, this is how I lead” has been derided by a number of commentators. And Dennett argues it’s “not particularly prime ministerial, more what the sneaker-wearing CEOs volley around the boardroom.”
Melissa Lee’s poor performance
Although yesterday’s demotions were surprising due to their timing, no one seems to have been surprised, as Melissa Lee was already in serious trouble. Over the last month or two of major downsizing and threats in various media businesses, Lee has been widely viewed as ineffective and missing in action. Common reactions to her performance have involved the word “clueless” and phrases like “possum in the headlights”.
According to the Herald’s Claire Trevett, Lee was unfortunate to possess the portfolio during a crisis, but also failed to produce credible responses: “Lee’s downfall was that they came to a head on her watch – and she did not have an answer to them by the time they took their toll. Nor had she come up with anything since.”
Ben Thomas is more sympathetic to Lee’s plight, saying there was an element of unfairness in her sacking: “she had been, to differing extents, gagged by her own side. Even before the election, National refused to release her broadcasting policy”. Then during the media crisis, he says that she was stuck in limbo because of coalition politics involving NZ First: “Her office was reportedly barred from clarifying the timeline of policy development with journalists by Luxon’s office, to ease tensions with deputy PM Winston Peters.”
Newsroom’s Laura Walters appears to have more inside information on what has been going on in the Beehive, saying that Lee’s final downfall came when her third attempt to develop a Cabinet paper of solutions to the crisis disappointed the Prime Minister. Walters reports on Lee’s third Cabinet paper failing: “Sources told Newsroom that Luxon… believed the proposals in Lee’s [third] paper did not adequately deal with the complexities of the issues facing the media industry.”
Lee has now been replaced as Media Minister by Paul Goldsmith, and Claire Trevett ponders whether the new minister is simply being “handed a poisoned chalice.” The portfolio has certainly been a difficult one that appears to have defeated previous ministers like Claire Curran, Kris Faafao, and Willie Jackson – all of whom struggled to make much headway in helping the sector to modernise. For more on this, see Colin Peacock’sMedia minister rolled as industry awaits plan
Penny Simmonds’ poor performance
Penny Simmonds has lost her cherished Disabilities ministerial portfolio in similar circumstances – as she too has caused the Government embarrassment, but not in a way that would normally lead to a sacking. However her mismanagement of the Disability portfolio led to savage cuts to disability support allowances, which shocked her colleagues and the sector. It was made worse by some intemperate remarks about those in the sector.
Finance Minister Nicola Willis had to intervene in the debacle, returning funding to the disability sector, and making it clear that any such changes in the future would need to be cleared by Cabinet rather than just Simmonds. And according to Newsroom’s Laura Walters, this “was seen by many as a vote of no confidence in Simmonds’ ability to oversee her own ministry.”
Despite this poor performance and bad publicity for the Government, few were tipping her to be fired so quickly. According to Walters, reporting on Beehive information, Luxon needed to demote Lee, and was less inclined to demote Simmonds this early, but “he decided to make both changes in one go to avoid another potential reshuffle down the road should Simmonds not bounce back.”
Also reporting Beehive sources, Ben Thomas says today that “insiders say Simmonds has struggled with the workload across her portfolios, and that the disabilities carer payment changes were not the only significant official-led announcements that passed under her risk radar.”
Luxon is appealing to our anti-political grumpiness
Luxon will win new plaudits from commentators for being decisive and bold, especially after years in which prime ministers have seemed highly reluctant to punish poor behaviour or performance. Luxon and his Government look like they won’t settle for “business as usual” or workmanlike politics.
If that is Luxon’s objective, then he’s smartly tapping into the Zeitgeist, reacting to a public mood that is increasingly grumpy and intolerant towards political complacency and mediocrity. We live in an age of political anger and discontent, which means that this National-led Government will quickly suffer if it protects poor performance.
Two recent IPSOS polling surveys indicate just how volatile and hard to please the public are. Last month, the market research company released its polling, showing that the public wasn’t evaluating the new government’s performance any more positively than it did for the last Labour Government when it was at its most unpopular – the average rating that people gave the National Government was only 4.6/10 – see my coverage of this: Scoring 4.6 out of 10, the new Government is struggling in the polls
Then last week, IPSOS released its survey of New Zealand’s attitudes to politics, which showed that two-thirds of the country believes that “New Zealand needs a strong leader to take the country back from the rich and powerful”, amongst many other rising anti-Establishment beliefs – see my column: Serious populist discontent is bubbling up in New Zealand
Of particular relevance was the survey question in which respondents were asked whether they agreed with the following statement: “To fix New Zealand, we need a strong leader willing to break the rules”. 54 per cent answered “yes”. The same question asked in the rest of the world had an average agreement of 49 per cent. In New Zealand, the demographics who much more likely to agree with the need for a strong rule-breaking leader were rightwing voters (60%), those on low incomes (66%), and Māori (73%).
Notably, political scientist Jack Vowles has also detected this growing grumpiness and desire for strong leadership. His NZ Election Study found that in 2020 43 per cent of the public agreed with the following statement: “A few strong leaders could make this country better than all the laws and talk”. But last year, the survey question found this had increased to 51 per cent.
Luxon and his government are also carrying out their own polling regularly, and will be well aware of how this increasingly anti-political mood means that voters will reward political leaders making strong decisions and being intolerant of mistakes and poor performance. In this sense, when he launched his surprise and ruthless demotions yesterday, Luxon was finally showing that he could be a “strong leader” or perhaps even a “populist” type of politician for our times.
Dr Bryce Edwards
Political Analyst in Residence, Director of the Democracy Project, School of Government, Victoria University of Wellington.
Australia’s inflation rate has fallen for the fifth successive quarter, and it’s now less than half of what it was back in late 2022.
The annual rate peaked at 7.8% in the December quarter of 2022 and is now just 3.6%, in the March quarter figures released on Wednesday, leaving it within spitting distance of the Reserve Bank’s 2–3% target.
But it’s too early for mortgage holders to celebrate.
On Wednesday Westpac noted the pace of improvement was slowing and pushed out its forecast of when the Reserve Bank would begin cutting rates from September this year to November.
The monthly measure of annual inflation also released on Wednesday rose marginally from 3.4% in February to 3.5% in March.
While some may see this as suggesting that the “last mile” of bringing inflation to heel might be difficult, not too much should be read into it.
The monthly series is experimental and volatile. As the chart shows, it has twice given a false impression that inflation was rising again over the past year.
Australia is in good company. While inflation has fallen throughout the developed world since late 2022, in recent months the improvements have slowed.
In the US, inflation is edging up.
US Federal Reserve chair Jerome Powell says it might take “longer than expected” for them to be sure inflation has fallen low enough to begin cutting rates.
Other banks might cut rates first. The head of the European Central Bank Christine Lagarde said she was “data-dependent, not Fed-dependent”.
In Australia, as in much of the rest of the world, inflation in the price of goods has come down faster than inflation in the price of services.
But the figures released on Wednesday show inflation in the price of services continuing to fall, although more slowly over the March quarter.
Rents climbed a further 2.1% in the quarter, to be up 7.8% over the year.
The measure reported is out-of-pocket rents, net of rental assistance. The Bureau of Statistics said had it not been for the increases in rent assistance announced in last year’s May budget, it would have recorded an increase in rents of 9.5%
In a report released with the consumer price index, the Bureau noted that renters’ experiences were not uniform and that many received rent reductions during COVID.
One in five city renters continued to pay less rent than before the pandemic.
Price falls for electricity (due to government rebates) and clothing in the March quarter helped lower annual inflation.
But sharp rises in the prices of insurance (a response to natural disasters) as well as education and pharmaceuticals made the task harder.
There might have also been a Taylor Swift effect. Prices for restaurant meals, urban transport, domestic accommodation and “other recreational and cultural services” rose more strongly in Sydney and Melbourne, where she played concerts in February, than in Brisbane and Perth where she did not.
What will it mean for student debt?
While interest is not charged on the debt accumulated by students as part of their student loans, the amount owed increases every June in line with the March quarter consumer price index.
Today’s figures produce an increase of 4.7499517% – a figure slightly closer to 4.7% than 4.8%, meaning it rounds down to 4.7%.
However, one interpretation of the rules suggests it might be rounded up, to 4.8%.
Regardless, the increase due in June will be substantial, on top of an already outsized increase of 7.1% in June last year.
There’s a chance the increase won’t be either of these figures. The government promised an announcement about the scheme before the May budget.
The Reserve Bank will update its inflation and other economic forecasts on May 7, one week before the May budget. Treasurer Jim Chalmers will hand down the budget on Tuesday May 14.
John Hawkins was formerly a senior economic analyst and forecaster in the Reserve Bank and Australian Treasury.
American and Australian stretcher bearers working together near the front line during the Battle of Hamel in 1918.Australian War Memorial
While the AUKUS alliance is new, the Australian-American partnership is not. As Australians reflect on the sacrifices of their soldiers on ANZAC Day, it’s worth remembering the first time Australian and American troops joined forces in battle – in northern France, in the final year of the first world war.
Australia fought as part of the British Empire in the early 20th century. This meant that when Britain declared war in 1914 against the Central Powers (Germany, Austria-Hungary and the Ottoman empire), Australia immediately went to war on the side of the Allies (the British, French, Russian and Japanese empires, with Italy and the United States joining later).
The US didn’t fully commit to the Allied cause until April 1917. Once it did, it focused on building up its industrial war machine and recruiting troops to be sent to Europe. By July 1918, there were around a million American soldiers in France, with more arriving every day.
The Allies had some battle successes beginning in June 1918 that slowly built their confidence. One of the important engagements would become known as the Battle of Hamel in northern France. This was when the Australian overall commander, Lieutenant General John Monash, spearheaded the first Australian-American attack in history. Monash organised the offensive for July 4, American Independence Day.
American and Australian troops dug in together during the Battle of Hamel. Australian War Memorial
A quick victory, with limited casualties
Ahead of the battle, American forces moved into Australian lines. As Australian Lieutenant Edgar Rule described:
Twelve were put in each platoon, and believe me they were some men. This was the first time that they had been in the line, and they were dead keen; and apart from that it bucked our lads up wonderfully. All the novelty of the war had long since vanished for our boys … everyone was smiling or laughing.
The Yanks were out for information and our boys were very willing teachers, and it speaks well for the future to see one set so eager to learn and the other so willing to teach.
Despite Monash’s best intentions, however, the American supreme commander, General John “Black Jack” Pershing, was not pleased. Americans supporting Australia in a defensive role was one thing. Attacking, however, would involve higher casualty rates and reduce the strength of the US forces at a time when Pershing wanted to have his own sector of the battlefield, rather than have his troops fed into other armies.
Lieutenant General Sir John Monash. Australian War Memorial
As a result, Pershing went so far as to withdraw six of his companies from the attack and then threatened to withdraw the remaining four. This treatment was not reserved for Monash. Many of the Allied commanders found Pershing difficult to work with – and Monash was no exception.
At 3:10am on July 4, 1918, Australian infantry, including four companies of the American 33rd Division, attacked the Germans in the town of Hamel. They moved forward under the protection of a “creeping barrage” (a slow-moving curtain of artillery fire that protects advancing troops and pins down enemy forces) and with the support of both aircraft and tanks.
Both the Australian Flying Corps and British Royal Air Force were used to prepare for and conduct the attack. This was the first major war in which armies used aircraft in large numbers. And the Battle of Hamel was the first time aircraft were used to parachute supplies to troops on the ground.
Sergeant Henry Dalziel of the 15th batallion. Australian War Memorial
Within 93 minutes, the battle was over – and it was a success. The Australian-American forces had achieved their objective of gaining important ground – in this case, guarding the vital rail centre of Amiens – while limiting the loss of life. Casualties were comparatively low for the war, with around 800 killed.
An excerpt from the citation of an Australian Victoria Cross recipient, Private Henry Dalziel, illustrates how tough the battle was:
He twice went over open ground under heavy enemy artillery and machine-gun fire to secure ammunition, and though suffering from considerable loss of blood, he filled magazines and served his gun until severely wounded through the head.
His magnificent bravery and devotion to duty was an inspiring example to all his comrades, and his dash and unselfish courage at a most critical time undoubtedly saved many lives.
Dalziel survived the war and went on to be a songwriter.
Apart from demonstrating extraordinary courage, the Battle of Hamel is a case study of meticulous planning, excellent staff work and coordination of infantry, artillery, tanks and aircraft.
A soldier from the 15th battalion, worn out and asleep under camouflage which was found covering a German trench mortar. Australian War Memorial
Indeed, the battle helped vindicate ideas about short, sharp attacks from mutually supporting Allied armies (which the Allied generalissimo, Ferdinand Foch referred to as “punching and kicking” the German lines), as well as the combined use of infantry, creeping barrage, tanks and aircraft. It had taken several years of battle experience to reach this point.
These ideas culminated five weeks later with the unprecedented Allied success of the nearby Battle of Amiens, which saw all available Australian spearhead the attack. It was Australia’s biggest victory of the war to that point.
The Australians also fought in the Battle of Mont Saint-Quentin in late August before again joining forces with the Americans and other Allied forces to smash through the Hindenburg Line in September.
By this point, it finally looked as though the tide had turned. The Allies began to envision an end to the conflict in late 1918 rather than in 1919, as they were planning for, Indeed, in less than two months, the fighting was over and the Allies were victorious.
Australian soldiers searching their German prisoners for souvenirs near Hargicourt, France, on October 1, 1918, after an attack on the Hindenburg Line outpost. Australian War Memorial
For Australia, the end of the war could not come soon enough. The Hindenburg Line was the last offensive for them, as hard fighting over the previous two years had savagely reduced their troop numbers.
However, this was just the beginning of a long military partnership between the US and Australia, forged in shared battle experience and a growing trust, which has now lasted for more than a hundred years.
Meighen McCrae does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Burial with a horse at the Rákóczifalva site, Hungary (8th century AD).Sándor Hegedűs, Hungarian National Museum, CC BY
How do we understand past societies? For centuries, our main sources of information have been pottery sherds, burial sites and ancient texts.
But the study of ancient DNA is changing what we know about the human past, and what we can know. In a new study, we analysed the genetics of hundreds of people who lived in the Carpathian Basin in southeastern central Europe more than 1,000 years ago, revealing detailed family trees, pictures of a complex society, and stories of change over centuries.
Who were the Avars?
The Avars were a nomadic people originating from eastern central Asia. From the 6th to the 9th century CE, they wielded power over much of eastern central Europe.
A gold earring from a 7th-century female grave at the Rákóczifalva site, Hungary. Hungarian National Museum, CC BY
The Avars are renowned among archaeologists for their distinctive belt garnitures, but their broader legacy has been overshadowed by predecessors such as the Huns. Nevertheless, Avar burial sites provide invaluable insights into their customs and way of life. To date, archaeologists have excavated more than 100,000 Avar graves.
Now, through the lens of “archaeogenetics”, we can delve even deeper into the intricate web of relationships among individuals who lived more than a millennium ago.
Kinship patterns, social practices and population dynamics
Much of what we know about Avar society comes from descriptions written by their enemies, such as the Byzantines and the Franks, so this work represents a significant leap forward in our understanding.
We combined ancient DNA data with archaeological, anthropological and historical context. As a result, we have been able to reconstruct extensive pedigrees, shedding light on kinship patterns, social practices and population dynamics of this enigmatic period.
Excavations at the cemetery of Rákóczifalva, Hungary in 2006. Hungarian National Museum, CC BY
We sampled all available human remains from four fully excavated Avar-era cemeteries, including those at Rákóczifalva and Hajdúnánás in what is now Hungary. This resulted in a meticulous analysis of 424 individuals.
Around 300 of these individuals had close relatives buried in the same cemetery. This allowed us to reconstruct multiple extensive pedigrees spanning up to nine generations and 250 years.
Communities were organised around main fathers’ lines
Our research uncovered a sophisticated social framework. Our results suggest Avar society ran on a strict system of descent through the father’s line (patrilineal descent).
Following marriage, men typically remained within their paternal community, preserving the lineage continuity. In contrast, women played a crucial role in fostering social ties by marrying outside their family’s community. This practice, called female exogamy, underscores the pivotal contribution of women in maintaining social cohesion.
Additionally, our study identified instances where closely related male individuals, such as siblings or a father and son, had offspring with the same female partner. Such couplings are called “levirate unions”.
Despite these practices, we found no evidence of pairings between genetically related people. This suggests Avar societies meticulously preserved an ancestral memory.
These findings align with historical and anthropological evidence from societies of the Eurasian steppe.
Our study also revealed a transition in the main line of descent within Rákóczifalva, when one pedigree took over from another. This occurred together with archaeological and dietary shifts likely linked to political changes in the region.
The transition, though significant, cannot be detected from higher-level genetic studies. Our results show an apparent genetic continuity can mask the replacement of entire communities. This insight may have far-reaching implications for future archaeological and genetic research.
Future direction of research
Our study, carried out with researchers from the Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology in Leipzig, Germany and at Eötvös Loránd University in Budapest, Hungary, is part of a larger project called HistoGenes funded by the European Research Council.
This project shows we can use ancient DNA to examine entire communities, rather than just individuals. We think there is a lot more we can learn.
An expert at work harvesting ancient DNA from a human bone. Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology
Now we aim to deepen our understanding of ancestral Avar society by expanding our research over a wider geographical area within the Avar realm. This broader scope will allow us to investigate the origins of the women who married into the communities we have studied. We hope it will also illuminate the connections between communities in greater detail.
Additionally, we plan to study evidence of pathogens and disease among the individuals in this research, to understand more about their health and lives.
Another avenue of research is improving the dating of Avar sites. We are currently analysing multiple radiocarbon dates from individual burials to reveal a more precise timeline of Avar society. This detailed chronology will help us pinpoint significant cultural changes and interactions with neighbouring societies.
The authors would like to acknowledge the contributions to this work of Zsófia Rácz, Tivadar Vida, Johannes Krause and Zuzana Hofmanová.
Magdalena M.E. Bunbury receives funding from the Australian Research Council (ARC) (project number CE170100015). She currently carries out a cadetship at the Reef and Rainforest Research Centre, a non-profit organisation in Cairns. Previously, she received funding from the German Academic Exchange Service (DAAD) (project number D0850554) and the Erasmus scheme of the European Union.
Guido Alberto Gnecchi-Ruscone receives funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme under grant agreement No 856453.
In the two decades to 2019, global plastic production doubled. By 2040, plastic manufacturing and processing could consume as much as 20% of global oil production and use up 15% of the annual carbon emissions budget.
Most of the plastic we make ends up as waste. As plastic manufacturers increase production, more and more of it will end up in our landfills, rivers and oceans. Plastic waste is set to triple by 2060.
Producers often put the onus back on consumers by pointing to recycling schemes as a solution to plastic pollution. If we recycle our plastics, it shouldn’t matter how much we produce – right?
Not quite. The key question here is how close the is relationship between plastic production and pollution. Our new research found the relationship is direct – a 1% increase in plastic production leads to a 1% increase in plastic pollution, meaning unmanaged waste such as bottles in rivers and floating plastic in the oceans.
Not only that, but over half of branded plastic pollution is linked to just 56 companies worldwide. The Coca-Cola Company accounts for 11% of branded waste and PepsiCo 5%. If these companies introduce effective plastic reduction plans, we could see a measurable reduction in plastic in the environment.
The problem is only going to get more urgent. By the end of the current decade, experts estimate another 53 million tons will end up in the oceans every single year. That’s bad for us, and for other species. Plastics can cause real damage to our health. Our first exposure to them starts in the womb. In the seas, plastics can choke turtles and seabirds. On land, they can poison groundwater. Socially and economically, plastic pollution now costs us about A$3.8 trillion a year.
In the 1960s and 70s, plastics were seen as a modern wonder. Soon, they became common – and then ubiquitous. Single-use plastics appeared everywhere. After being tossed onto roadsides or in rivers, these plastics can make their way to the ocean.
Today, about 36% of all the world’s plastic pollution comes from the packaging sector in the form of single-use plastics.
To find out how plastic production influences waste, we turned to global data from litter audits, surveys of waste in the environment. Data from these audits is useful to understand changes in types and volumes of plastic waste. We used five years of audit data from more than 1,500 audits across 84 countries. The audits showed 48% of the litter had a brand name, and 52% was unbranded.
To assess production levels, we used data reported to a circular economy organisation by major plastics companies and compared it against levels of branded plastic pollution.
We expected more production would mean more waste, but not such a direct correlation. The fact it’s a 1:1 ratio is eye-opening. What this means is as plastic-packaging producing companies scale up their operations, they directly contribute more waste to the environment.
We found just 13 companies individually contributed 1% or more of the total branded plastic observed. All of these companies produce food, beverage, or tobacco products, usually packaged in single-use plastic.
The Coca-Cola Company products were the top source of branded plastic pollution, representing 11% of all branded litter.
Right now, companies get to sell their products in single-use plastics and the onus is on consumers to recycle or bin the plastic. This in turn creates high costs for local governments, who run the waste services. There’s also the cost of a degraded environment we all bear.
Many major companies have made voluntary commitments to reduce plastic. However, many of these companies are missing their targets, suggesting these voluntary measures are proving ineffective.
There’s a better alternative. Producer responsibility schemes could help to shift the costs and responsibility away from consumers and back to the producers. This is in line with the “polluter pays” principle – companies making products that become waste have the responsibility to ensure it’s appropriately managed.
Where these schemes are up and running, such as in the European Union, companies often respond by changing how they package products. If it costs them money, they will act.
The problem of single-use plastics
Even when collected, single-use plastics are a difficult waste stream to manage as they have little or no recycling value. Sometimes these plastics are burned as fuel for cement kilns or used in waste-to-energy facilities.
Recycling can be a surprisingly large source of microplastics, as mechanical recycling methods chew up bottles into tiny bits.
Then there’s the fact recycling is not a circle, as the famous logo might suggest. The more we recycle plastic, the more degraded it becomes. Eventually, this plastic becomes waste.
If recycling and landfilling can only go so far, the missing piece of the puzzle has to be capping plastic production.
What would that look like?
It would involve requiring manufacturers to steadily reduce the amount of plastic used in their products over time and adopt safe, sustainable plastic alternatives as they become available.
Countries could:
set measurable targets to phase out non-essential, hazardous and unsustainable single-use products, such as take-away containers, plastic cutlery and single-use plastic bags
work to design safe and sustainable products to cut global demand for new plastic while increasing reuse, refilling, repairing, and recycling
invest in non-plastic alternatives and substitutes with better social, economic and environmental profiles, such as old-fashioned reusables.
What about the 52% of unbranded plastic waste? To tackle this requires better data and accountability, such as through an international open-access database of plastic producers or through international standards for package branding. Australia is moving towards this with its planned reforms for packaging.
One thing is certain – current trends mean ever more plastic, and more plastic means more plastic pollution.
Britta Denise Hardesty receives funding from the Australian Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade and from The United Nations Environment Programme and in the past has received philanthropic funding. None of the funding received in any way relates to the work discussed or highlighted in this article.
Win Cowger receives funding from Possibility Lab, Break Free From Plastic, National Renewable Energy Laboratory, and McPike Zima Charitable Foundation. He is affiliated with the Moore Institute for Plastic Pollution Research.
Kathryn Willis and Katie Conlon, Ph.D. do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Students and activist staff at Australia’s University of Sydney (USyd) have set up a Gaza solidarity encampment in support of Palestinians and similar student-led protests in the United States.
The camp was pitched as mass graves, crippled hospitals, thousands of civilian deaths and the near-total destruction of infrastructure haunted Gaza with Israel’s war on the besieged Palestinian coastal enclave passing the 200 days milestone.
Nearly 85 percent of Gaza’s 2.3 million people have been displaced and more than 14,500 children killed in the attack, which critics have dubbed a war of vengeance.
In Sydney, according to the university’s student newspaper, Honi Soit, the camp was established on the campus when tents were pitched “emblazoned with graffiti reading ‘Free Palestine’ and ‘from the river to the sea’”.
Students form several Australian universities were in attendance for the launch of the encampment, which was inaugurated with a student activist “speak out” on the subject of the war on Gaza and the demand for USyd management to drop any ties to the state of Israel.
According to the student newspaper: “Many chants that were used on US campuses in the past week were repeated at the encampment tonight like “disclose, divest, we will not stop, we will not rest” followed by “Albanese/Sydney Uni you will see, Palestine will be free”.
— USyd SFP | Join the Gaza Solidarity Camp! (@SFP_USyd) April 24, 2024
Pro-Palestinian protests are gaining momentum at colleges and universities across the United States with street protests outside campuses as police have cracked down on the demonstrators.
Students at New York University, Columbia, Harvard and Yale are among those standing in solidarity with Palestinians and demanding an end to the war on Gaza.
Tensions flare at US universities over Gaza protests.
Tensions between pro-Palestinian student protesters and school administrators flared at several US universities Monday, as in-person classes were cancelled and demonstrators arrestedhttps://t.co/ByWzL8ZWhNpic.twitter.com/W5I08JqoBg
Al Jazeera’s Kristen Saloomey, reporting from New York, said student demonstrators from New York University (NYU) gathered for hours in a park just off the campus to protest against the genocide.
The protest moved to the park following the mass arrest of 133 students and academic staff who had participated in a protest on the NYU campus the night before.
“As news spread of their arrests, so have demonstrations around the country — at other colleges and universities,” Saloomey said.
Columbia announced that it was introducing online classes for the the rest of the year to cope with the protests.
Watch Saloomey’s AJ report:
Columbia protests: Chants of ‘Azaadi’. Video: Al Jazeera
The Al Jazeera Explainers team have put together a comprehensive report detailing the numbers that highlight the unprecedented level of violence unleashed by Israel on Gaza in the 200 days of war.
The massive infrastructure damage caused by the Israeli war on Gaza . . . . making the strip “unlivable”.
Australian teddy bear bees are cute and fluffy, but get a look at that massive (unbarbed) stinger! James Dorey Photography
Most of us have been stung by a bee and we know it’s not much fun. But maybe we also felt a tinge of regret, or vindication, knowing the offending bee will die. Right? Well, for 99.96% of bee species, that’s not actually the case.
Only eight out of almost 21,000 bee species in the world die when they sting. Another subset can’t sting at all, and the majority of bees can sting as often as they want. But there’s even more to it than that.
To understand the intricacies of bees and their stinging potential, we’re going to need to talk about the shape of stingers, bee genitals, and attitude.
Our beloved, and deadly, honey bees
What you most likely remember getting stung by is the European honey bee (Apis mellifera). Native to Europe and Africa, these bees are today found almost everywhere in the world.
They are one of eight honey bee species worldwide, with Apis bees representing just 0.04% of total bee species. And yes, these bees die after they sting you.
But why?
We could say they die for queen and colony, but the actual reason these bees die after stinging is because of their barbed stingers. These brutal barbs will, most of the time, prevent the bee from pulling the stinger out.
Instead, the bee leaves her appendage embedded in your skin and flies off without it. After the bee is gone, to later die from her wound, the stinger remains lodged there pumping more venom.
Beyond that, bees and wasps (probably mostly European honey bees) are Australia’s deadliest venomous animals. In 2017–18, 12 out of 19 deaths due to venomous animals were because of these little insects. (Only a small proportion of people are deathly allergic.)
Talk about good PR.
So what is a stinger?
A stinger, at least in most bees, wasps and ants, is actually a tube for laying eggs (ovipositor) that has also been adapted for violent defence. This group of stinging insects, the aculeate wasps (yes, bees and ants are technically a kind of wasp), have been stabbing away in self-defence for 190 million years.
You could say it’s their defining feature.
A Sycoscapter parasitoid wasp laying eggs into a fig through her ovipositor (bottom middle). Her ovipositor sheath, which usually surrounds the ovipositor, is curved behind her and to the right. Sycoscapter wasps are sister to the aculeate wasps (they don’t sting). James Dorey Photography
With so much evolution literally under their belts they’ve also developed a diversity of stinging strategies. But let’s just get back to the bees.
The sting of the European honey bee is about as painful as a bee sting gets, scoring a 2 out of 4 on the Schmidt insect sting pain index.
But most other bees don’t pack the same punch — though I have heard some painful reviews from less-than-careful colleagues. On the flipside, most bee species can sting you as many times as they like because their stingers lack the barbs found in honey bees. Although, if they keep at it, they might eventually run out of venom.
Even more surprising is that hundreds of bee species have lost their ability to sting entirely.
Can you tell who’s packing?
Globally, there are 537 species (about 2.6% of all bee species) of “stingless bees” in the tribe Meliponini. We have only 11 of these species (in the genera Austroplebeia and Tetragonula) in Australia. These peaceful little bees can also be kept in hives and make honey.
Stingless bees can still defend their nests, when offended, by biting. But you might think of them more as a nuisance than a deadly stinging swarm.
An Australian stingless bee, Tetragonula carbonaria, foraging on a Macadamia flower. James Dorey Photography
Australia also has the only bee family (there are a total of seven families globally) that’s found on a single continent. This is the Stenotritidae family, which comprises 21 species. These gentle and gorgeous giants (14–19mm in length, up to twice as long as European honey bees) also get around without a functional stinger.
The long ovipositor of this parasitoid, and non-stinging, wasp is essentially a hypodermic needle for injecting an egg. James Dorey Photography
The astute reader might have realised something by this point in the article. If stingers are modified egg-laying tubes … what about the boys? Male bees, of all bee species, lack stingers and have, ahem, other anatomy instead. However, some male bees will still make a show of “stinging” if you try to grab them.
Some male wasps can even do a bit of damage, though they have no venom to produce a sting.
Why is it always the honey bees?
So, if the majority of bees can sting, why is it always the European honey bee having a go? There are a couple of likely answers to that question.
First, the European honey bee is very abundant across much of the world. Their colonies typically have around 50,000 individuals and they can fly 10km to forage.
In comparison, most wild bees only forage very short distances (less than 200m) and must stay close to their nest. So those hardworking European honey bees are really putting in the miles.
Second, European honey bees are social. They will literally die to protect their mother, sisters and brothers. In contrast, the vast majority of bees (and wasps) are actually solitary (single mums doing it for themselves) and lack the altruistic aggression of their social relatives.
A complicated relationship
We have an interesting relationship with our European honey bees. They can be deadly, are non-native (across much of the world), and will aggressively defend their nests. But they are crucial for crop pollination and, well, their honey is to die for.
But it’s worth remembering these are the tiny minority in terms of species. We have thousands of native bee species (more than 1,600 found so far in Australia) that are more likely to simply buzz off than go in for a sting.
James B. Dorey has received funding from organisations like the University of Wollongong, Flinders University, the Playford Trust, and the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade (New Colombo Plan); but none in relation to this article.
Amy-Marie Gilpin receives funding from Western Sydney University and Horticulture Innovation Australia. She is also a member of the IUCN Wild Bee Specialist Group Oceania.
Rosalyn Gloag receives funding from The Australian Research Council, but not in relation to this article. She is affiliated with The University of Sydney. She is also a member of the IUCN Wild Bee Specialist Group Oceania.
In the chaos, Farr went missing. When the first roll call was conducted on April 29, he was nowhere to be found. His record was amended to read “missing”, something guaranteed to send any parent into a blind panic.
It was not until January 1916 that it was determined Farr had been killed in action in Turkey sometime between April 25 and 29. He was 20 years old when he died.
His mother, Mary Drummond, had spent months in agony waiting for any news of her only child. Her initial deference to authorities gave way to an increasingly desperate and angry correspondence. She wrote:
Now Sir, I think it is your duty […] when a mother gives her son […] when that son is wounded, she ought to have some news.
By October, she tried to enlist the help of her local member of parliament, imploring him to find out if her son was alive.
But it was not until 1921, six years after Farr was last seen alive, that the army conceded exhaustive enquiries had failed to locate his body. She replied:
I only wish you could tell me if you knew he was buried, my sorrow would not be so great.
Farr’s name is etched on a panel at the Lone Pine Memorial to the Missing at Gallipoli, along with more than 4,900 of his Australian comrades who likewise have no known grave.
Almost half of the eligible white, male population of Australia volunteered and enlisted in the First Australian Imperial Force between 1914 and 1918.
Of the 416,000 who joined up, more than 330,000 men served overseas. Of these, more than 60,000 would never return. These are among the highest casualty figures for any combatant nation in the entire war.
Over 80% of Australia’s soldiers were unmarried, like Farr; in some rural communities, that rate was about 95%. So the burden of bereavement fell on the shoulders of ageing parents.
The impact of wartime bereavement on ageing parents was enormous. For some, grief became the primary motif for the rest of their days. For most, the memory haunted them into the post-war years, and for all, the war became the pivotal event of their lives, after which nothing would ever be the same.
The physical health of many parents declined rapidly when they heard their son had died. One example was Katherine Blair. She died unexpectedly at the age of 54 from heart failure on the first anniversary of her son’s death in France.
There was evidence of mothers and fathers becoming violent, thinking about suicide, causing public disturbances, and turning to alcohol in their distress.
As I outlined in my PhD thesis, many working class mothers and fathers joined the wards of public mental hospitals, such as Callan Park in Sydney. Some stayed there for the rest of their lives.
The psychiatric files I examined from several major mental hospitals showed evidence of delusions, fantasies and complete denial about their son’s death. Some had lost more than one son.
Upper class families avoided the stigma of public mental hospitals, as they could afford to see private doctors, and have nursing assistance at home.
Upper class fathers, in particular, appointed themselves as guardians of their son’s memory. They spent an inordinate amount of time, effort and funds on lobbying the Australian government for recognition of their son’s service, and producing elaborate memory books and commemorative artefacts. Perhaps this was a sign of obsessive grief, but one not available to working class families.
Death and injury during the war touched every part of the country, from cities to hamlets, from towns to stations.
The scale of loss was as shocking as it was unprecedented, and permanently changed the culture of mourning practices in Australia.
Funeral services and overt displays of mourning differed according to class. Overall, however, the Australian experience of death in the 19th century was based on traditions embraced in Victorian England – deathbed attendance, the graveside funeral service, the headstone and its inscription, and the physical act of visiting the grave to place flowers or other mementos on special occasions.
There was also the practice of wearing mourning black and for wealthier families, ornate funeral processions through the streets with plumed horses to demonstrate the social standing and piety of the deceased.
In the early 1900s, funeral processions like this were elaborate affairs. But funerals soon changed. Aussie~mobs/Flickr
However, two realities were required to mourn within the comfort of these familiar rituals – the knowledge of how and where their loved one had died, and the presence of the body.
Neither was available to the bereaved in Australia during the Great War. These established, reliable patterns had been stripped away.
Instead, and with so many who were bereaved, the notion of claiming loss in public was seen as tasteless and vulgar.
Rather than funerals being ostentatious public displays, they became private affairs for family and close friends.
Grief was endured and expressed within the privacy of the home, with a performance of dignified stoicism in public. The practice of wearing mourning black fell out of style.
An estimated 4,000-5,000 war memorials were built across the country. These became the focal point for communities to honour their dead and remember their sacrifice, a practice we still see on Anzac Day today.
Jen Roberts does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Gregory Moore, Senior Research Associate, School of Ecosystem and Forest Sciences, The University of Melbourne
Gregory Moore
I had the good fortune to care for the sugar gum at The University of Melbourne’s Burnley Gardens in Victoria where I worked for many decades. It was a fine tree – tall and dominating. Less than a year after my retirement, it shed a couple of major limbs and was removed. I had been its custodian for over 20 years and took my responsibility seriously, extending its useful life.
I loved that tree. But not everyone feels the same way about sugar gums (Eucalyptus cladocalyx), thanks to the fact many have multiple spindly trunks or branches that sometimes drop when they haven’t been managed well.
The truth is, Eucalyptus cladocalyx is a hardy and versatile native tree of South Australia which grows very nicely in other parts of the country. They were once widely planted across south-eastern Australia and they have grown in Western Australia too. In many places they defined the roadside vegetation of the region.
Many are gone now; lost to storms, old age, road works and safety concerns as agricultural land becomes treeless outer suburbs. It’s a shame, because there is much to appreciate and admire about the sugar gum.
They do drop branches when they haven’t been managed well. Gregory Moore
In its natural habitat in the Flinders Ranges, sugar gum can be an impressive single-trunked tree. It can grow up to 35 metres or more in height, with a girth of up to four and a half metres (although those on the Eyre Peninsula and Kangaroo Island tend to be smaller).
The name “sugar gum” arises from its apparently sweet leaves, but benefit from my experience and don’t put it to the test.
I have found the bark can be sweet – but I can’t say I recommend trying that for yourself, either. The sap of cider gum, Eucalyptus gunnii, on the other hand, is sweet and can be fermented.
Like many eucalypts, sugar gum is a hardy tree with plenty of dormant buds (epicormic buds) under its smooth yellow, grey bark.
When the tree is damaged by fire or stressed, these buds may become active and produce lots of new shoots. This is how some trees renew themselves after damage from fire, grazing, flooding, storms or poor pruning.
Sugar gums can become weeds not only in Western Australia, Africa and California, but in their native South Australia. They can outcompete and displace native species.
Sugar gums can become weeds. Gregory Moore
A tree that leaves a lasting impression
I have been familiar with sugar gums since boyhood. Coming from the western suburbs of Melbourne, I remember lots of them in rows at the intriguing Albion Explosive Factory.
These trees left a lasting impression. I jumped at the chance to visit the site a couple of decades ago to inspect some of the trees before the factory closed. I still pass these trees as I travel along the Ring Road or Ballarat Road.
The site of the old Albion Explosive Factory is now largely the Melbourne suburb of Cairnlea. The last small parcels of land are about to be developed by the responsible state government agency.
Locals have fought a plan to remove sugar gum trees there. More broadly, though, many in the wider Australian community still see sugar gums only as risky trees that drop dangerous branches.
Lopping and topping
European farmers planted Eucalyptus cladocalyx in the early days of colonial farming, often in rows. It grew fast and formed good windbreaks.
These trees are capable of growth in heavy clay soils, drought tolerant and efficient water users. They were a tree that more or less looked after themselves in tough conditions.
The timber was also very useful for firewood, fence posts, and even furniture or building. It is a hard timber, though, and not easily worked even by skilled craftsmen.
Because it was used as a windbreak tree, sugar gum was often lopped or topped (removing the top of the tree) somewhere between two and four metres above the ground so the tree would branch out or bush up.
Some were regularly pruned at a lower height to encourage growth for the rapid production of firewood or fence posts. Even in city streets and suburban gardens, the practice was to top these trees so they would be bushy and shady.
But when you stopped lopping and topping, the shoots grew quickly. You ended up with the familiar long and spindly, multi-trunked trees so many of us know.
Quite often these long shoots just peel off from the tree or are blown off in a storm. This gives rise to the impression all sugar gums are structurally unsound and pose a risk from falling branches.
But this risk comes mostly from trees that are heavily branched, and multi-stemmed, which arises from being planted in poor soils and from intervention by humans. Left alone, they usually develop well.
Many sugar gums feature hollows and cavities, which become a haven for native fauna. These provide a home for a possum or two, but it is perhaps parrots that benefit most.
At certain times of year, there is a deafening din around sugar gums as sulphur-crested cockatoos, corellas and lorikeets jostle for nesting sites. It is an important breeding habitat for the endangered yellow tailed black cockatoo.
At other times, it is the quiet hum of bees collecting pollen from their small white flowers that draws attention .
This is what I think of when I see rows of old sugar gums in outer suburbs in small isolated parks. They remain as habitat refuges, when so many older trees have been removed for unimaginative land development.
Gregory Moore does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Australia’s inflation rate has fallen for the fifth successive quarter, and it’s now less than half of what it was back in late 2022.
The annual rate peaked at 7.8% in the December quarter of 2022 and is now just 3.6%, in the March quarter figures released on Wednesday, leaving it within spitting distance of the Reserve Bank’s 2–3% target.
But it’s too early for mortgage holders to celebrate.
On Wednesday Westpac noted the pace of improvement was slowing and pushed out its forecast of when the Reserve Bank would begin cutting rates from September this year to November.
The monthly measure of annual inflation also released on Wednesday rose marginally from 3.4% in February to 3.5% in March.
While some may see this as suggesting that the “last mile” of bringing inflation to heel might be difficult, not too much should be read into it.
The monthly series is experimental and volatile. As the chart shows, it has twice given a false impression that inflation was rising again over the past year.
Australia is in good company. While inflation has fallen throughout the developed world since late 2022, in recent months the improvements have slowed.
In the US, inflation is edging up.
US Federal Reserve chair Jerome Powell says it might take “longer than expected” for them to be sure inflation has fallen low enough to begin cutting rates.
Other banks might cut rates first. The head of the European Central Bank Christine Lagarde said she was “data-dependent, not Fed-dependent”.
In Australia, as in much of the rest of the world, inflation in the price of goods has come down faster than inflation in the price of services.
But the figures released on Wednesday show inflation in the price of services continuing to fall, although more slowly over the March quarter.
Rents climbed a further 2.1% in the quarter, to be up 7.8% over the year.
The measure reported is out-of-pocket rents, net of rental assistance. The Bureau of Statistics said had it not been for the increases in rent assistance announced in last year’s May budget, it would have recorded an increase in rents of 9.5%
In a report released with the consumer price index, the Bureau noted that renters’ experiences were not uniform and that many received rent reductions during COVID.
One in five city renters continued to pay less rent than before the pandemic.
Price falls for electricity (due to government rebates) and clothing in the March quarter helped lower annual inflation.
But sharp rises in the prices of insurance (a response to natural disasters) as well as education and pharmaceuticals made the task harder.
There might have also been a Taylor Swift effect. Prices for restaurant meals, urban transport, domestic accommodation and “other recreational and cultural services” rose more strongly in Sydney and Melbourne, where she played concerts in February, than in Brisbane and Perth where she did not.
What will it mean for student debt?
While interest is not charged on the debt accumulated by students as part of their student loans, the amount owed increases every June in line with the March quarter consumer price index.
Today’s figures produce an increase of 4.7499517% – a figure slightly closer to 4.7% than 4.8%, meaning it rounds down to 4.7%.
However, one interpretation of rules suggests it might be rounded up, to 4.8%.
Regardless, the increase due in June will be substantial, on top of an already outsized increase of 7.1% in June last year.
There’s a chance the increase won’t be either of these figures. The government promised an announcement about the scheme before the May budget.
The Reserve Bank will update its inflation and other economic forecasts one week before the May budget on May 7. Treasurer Jim Chalmers will hand down the budget on May 14.
John Hawkins was formerly a senior economic analyst and forecaster in the Reserve Bank and Australian Treasury.
Just when we think the price of rentals could not get any worse, this week’s Rental Affordability Snapshot by Anglicare has revealed low-income Australians are facing a housing crisis like never before.
In fact, if you rely on the Youth Allowance, there is not a single rental property across Australia you can afford this week.
However, the rental affordability crisis pre-dates COVID.
Affordability has been steadily declining for decades, as successive governments have failed to make shelter more affordable for low-to-moderate income Australians.
The market is getting squeezed at both ends
At the lower end of the rental sector, the growth in the supply of social housing persistently lags behind demand, trending at under one-third the rate of population growth.
This has forced growing numbers of low-income Australians to seek shelter in the private rental sector, where they face intense competition from higher-income renters.
At the upper end, more and more aspiring home buyers are getting locked out of home ownership.
A recent study found more households with higher incomes are now renting.
Households earning $140,000 a year or more (in 2021 dollars) accounted for just 8% of private renters in 1996. By 2021, this tripled to 24%. No doubt, this crowds out lower-income households who are now facing a shortage of affordable homes to rent.
Why current policies are not working
Worsening affordability in the private rental sector highlights a housing system that is broken. Current policies just aren’t working.
While current policies focus on supply, more work is needed including fixing labour shortages and providing greater stock diversity.
The planning system plays a critical role and zoning rules can be reformed to support the supply of more affordable options.
However, the housing affordability challenge is not solely a supply problem. There is also a need to respond to the super-charged demand in the property market.
An overheated market will undoubtedly place intense pressure on the rental sector because aspiring first home buyers are forced to rent for longer, as house prices soar at a rate unmatched by their wages.
Yet, governments continue to resist calls for winding back the generous tax concessions enjoyed by multi-property owners.
The main help available to low-income private renters – the Commonwealth Rent Assistance scheme – is poorly targeted with nearly one in five low-income renters deemed ineligible, while another one in four receive it despite not being in rental stress.
Can affordable housing occur naturally?
Some commentators support the theory of filtering – a market-based process by which the supply of new dwellings in more expensive segments creates additional supply of dwellings for low-income households as high-income earners vacate their former dwellings.
Proponents of filtering argue building more housing anywhere – even in wealthier ends of the property market – will eventually improve affordability across the board because lower priced housing will trickle down to the poorest households.
However, the persistent affordability crisis low-income households face and the rise in homelessness are crucial signs filtering does not work well and cannot be relied upon to produce lower cost housing.
Location, location, location
Location does matter, if we expect building new housing to work for low-income individuals.
What is needed is a steady increase of affordable, quality housing in areas offering low-income renters the same access to jobs and amenities as higher-income households.
The National Housing Accord aims to deliver 1.2 million new dwellings over five years from mid-2024. But it must ensure these are “well-located” for people who need affordable housing, as suggested in the accord.
Recent modelling shows unaffordable housing and poor neighbourhoods both negatively affect mental health, reinforcing the need to provide both affordable and well-located housing.
The upcoming budget
While the 15% increase in the maximum rent assistance rate was welcomed in the last budget, the program is long overdue for a major restructure to target those in rental stress.
Also, tax concessions on second properties should be wound back to reduce competition for those struggling to buy their first home. This would eventually help ease affordability pressures on low-income renters as more higher-income renters shift into homeownership.
The potential negative impacts on rental supply can be mitigated by careful design of tax and other changes that guard against market destabilisation concerns.
Overall, housing affordability solutions have to be multi-faceted. The housing system is badly broken and meaningful repair cannot be achieved unless policymakers are willing to confront both supply and demand challenges.
Rachel Ong ViforJ receives funding from the Australian Research Council (ARC) and Australian Housing and Urban Research Institute (AHURI).
American and Australian stretcher bearers working together near the front line during the Battle of Hamel in 1918.Australian War Memorial
While the AUKUS alliance is new, the Australian-American partnership is not. As Australians reflect on the sacrifices of their soldiers on ANZAC Day, it’s worth remembering the first time Australian and American troops joined forces in battle – in northern France, in the final year of the first world war.
Australia fought as part of the British Empire in the early 20th century. This meant that when Britain declared war in 1914 against the Central Powers (Germany, Austria-Hungary and the Ottoman empire), Australia immediately went to war on the side of the Allies (the British, French, Russian and Japanese empires, with Italy and the United States joining later).
The US didn’t fully commit to the Allied cause until April 1917. Once it did, it focused on building up its industrial war machine and recruiting troops to be sent to Europe. By July 1918, there were around a million American soldiers in France, with more arriving every day.
The Allies had some battle successes beginning in June 1918 that slowly built their confidence. One of the important engagements would become known as the Battle of Hamel in northern France. This was when the Australian overall commander, Lieutenant General John Monash, spearheaded the first Australian-American attack in history. Monash organised the offensive for July 4, American Independence Day.
American and Australian troops dug in together during the Battle of Hamel. Australian War Memorial
A quick victory, with limited casualties
Ahead of the battle, American forces moved into Australian lines. As Australian Lieutenant Edgar Rule described:
Twelve were put in each platoon, and believe me they were some men. This was the first time that they had been in the line, and they were dead keen; and apart from that it bucked our lads up wonderfully. All the novelty of the war had long since vanished for our boys … everyone was smiling or laughing.
The Yanks were out for information and our boys were very willing teachers, and it speaks well for the future to see one set so eager to learn and the other so willing to teach.
Despite Monash’s best intentions, however, the American supreme commander, General John “Black Jack” Pershing, was not pleased. Americans supporting Australia in a defensive role was one thing. Attacking, however, would involve higher casualty rates and reduce the strength of the US forces at a time when Pershing wanted to have his own sector of the battlefield, rather than have his troops fed into other armies.
Lieutenant General Sir John Monash. Australian War Memorial
As a result, Pershing went so far as to withdraw six of his companies from the attack and then threatened to withdraw the remaining four. This treatment was not reserved for Monash. Many of the Allied commanders found Pershing difficult to work with – and Monash was no exception.
At 3:10am on July 4, 1918, Australian infantry, including four companies of the American 33rd Division, attacked the Germans in the town of Hamel. They moved forward under the protection of a “creeping barrage” (a slow-moving curtain of artillery fire that protects advancing troops and pins down enemy forces) and with the support of both aircraft and tanks.
Both the Australian Flying Corps and British Royal Air Force were used to prepare for and conduct the attack. This was the first major war in which armies used aircraft in large numbers. And the Battle of Hamel was the first time aircraft were used to parachute supplies to troops on the ground.
Sergeant Henry Dalziel of the 15th batallion. Australian War Memorial
Within 93 minutes, the battle was over – and it was a success. The Australian-American forces had achieved their objective of gaining important ground – in this case, guarding the vital rail centre of Amiens – while limiting the loss of life. Casualties were comparatively low for the war, with around 800 killed.
An excerpt from the citation of an Australian Victoria Cross recipient, Private Henry Dalziel, illustrates how tough the battle was:
He twice went over open ground under heavy enemy artillery and machine-gun fire to secure ammunition, and though suffering from considerable loss of blood, he filled magazines and served his gun until severely wounded through the head.
His magnificent bravery and devotion to duty was an inspiring example to all his comrades, and his dash and unselfish courage at a most critical time undoubtedly saved many lives.
Dalziel survived the war and went on to be a songwriter.
Apart from demonstrating extraordinary courage, the Battle of Hamel is a case study of meticulous planning, excellent staff work and coordination of infantry, artillery, tanks and aircraft.
A soldier from the 15th battalion, worn out and asleep under camouflage which was found covering a German trench mortar. Australian War Memorial
Indeed, the battle helped vindicate ideas about short, sharp attacks from mutually supporting Allied armies (which the Allied generalissimo, Ferdinand Foch referred to as “punching and kicking” the German lines), as well as the combined use of infantry, creeping barrage, tanks and aircraft. It had taken several years of battle experience to reach this point.
These ideas culminated five weeks later with the unprecedented Allied success of the nearby Battle of Amiens, which saw all available Australian spearhead the attack. It was Australia’s biggest victory of the war to that point.
The Australians also fought in the Battle of Mont Saint-Quentin in late August before again joining forces with the Americans and other Allied forces to smash through the Hindenburg Line in September.
By this point, it finally looked as though the tide had turned. The Allies began to envision an end to the conflict in late 1918 rather than in 1919, as they were planning for, Indeed, in less than two months, the fighting was over and the Allies were victorious.
Australian soldiers searching their German prisoners for souvenirs near Hargicourt, France, on October 1, 1918, after an attack on the Hindenburg Line outpost. Australian War Memorial
For Australia, the end of the war could not come soon enough. The Hindenburg Line was the last offensive for them, as hard fighting over the previous two years had savagely reduced their troop numbers.
However, this was just the beginning of a long military partnership between the US and Australia, forged in shared battle experience and a growing trust, which has now lasted for more than a hundred years.
Meighen McCrae does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
When the news broke last weekend that 23 Chinese swimmers had tested positive to a banned drug in early 2021 and were allowed to compete at the Tokyo Olympic Games six months later without sanction, many people – particularly in the Western world – immediately suspected a cover-up.
The US anti-doping boss, Travis Tygart, has been one of the most vocal critics of the World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA), claiming the Chinese positive tests had been “swept under the carpet” by the body.
A few days later, the US Anti-Doping Agency stepped up its attacks, calling on governments and sports leaders to overhaul WADA and appoint an independent prosecutor to investigate the 23 positive cases in China.
WADA has been put on the defensive. It has threatened legal proceedings against Tygart for his “outrageous, completely false and defamatory remarks”. And it hosted a virtual media conference about the case, with a panel of the agency’s anti-doping heavyweights taking legal, scientific and sports governance questions for almost two hours.
WADA press conference on Chinese swimming doping allegations.
Reputational damage to WADA
Transparency is key to any organisation’s reputation. It is never a good look when a body like WADA is forced to respond to a story exposed by the media, in this case a German documentary and a New York Times report.
WADA has surely suffered reputational damage by not being open about the case when it unfolded three years ago. But it maintains it couldn’t have handled the situation differently because of the complexity of the global anti-doping framework between WADA and national anti-doping agencies.
It wasn’t up to WADA to make the details of the failed tests public – this responsibility rested with the China Anti-Doping Agency (CHINADA) because it had carried out the tests and investigated the positive results. To protect innocent athletes if no violation is found, no public announcement is required.
Given an investigation by the Chinese Ministry of Public Security found traces of the banned substance trimetazidine (TMZ) in a kitchen at the swimmers’ hotel, CHINADA ruled the positive tests were the result of accidental contamination. The Chinese swimmers were cleared without any public announcement.
WADA says China’s national anti-doping agency kept them abreast of events throughout their extensive investigation, which took place during strict COVID lockdowns and was impacted by a local outbreak of the virus.
Far from accepting CHINADA’s findings on the face of it, WADA requested the entire case file so it could conduct its own scientific and legal investigations – including speaking with the drug manufacturer to get the latest unpublished science on TMZ, and comparing the Chinese positive tests with TMZ cases in other countries, including the US. WADA ultimately determined there was no concrete evidence to “disprove” the possibility of environmental contamination.
Here are a few reasons WADA gave as to why in its press conference this week:
More than 200 swimmers competing in the Chinese National Championships were staying in at least two different hotels at the time. The swimmers who tested positive to non-performance-enhancing amounts of TMZ were all at one hotel.
There were fluctuating negative and positive results for the swimmers that were tested on multiple occasions, which were not consistent with deliberate doping techniques, including microdosing.
WADA found no evidence of misconduct or manipulation in the case file handed over by CHINADA.
WADA says it reviews between 2,000 and 3,000 cases of suspected doping every year. It is not unusual for the body to file an appeal challenging anti-doping findings.
For example, WADA challenged an Australian Football League decision to clear 34 members of the Essendon Football Club. It also appealed a decision by the world swimming body, FINA, to clear high-profile Chinese swimmer Sun Yang of wrongdoing for his conduct during a 2018 drug test.
According to WADA’s general counsel, Ross Wenzel, the difference between these cases and the more recent allegations against the Chinese swimmers was that the body accepted the “no fault” finding in the latter case. In the earlier cases, it did not.
He also said WADA received external legal advice that it would have had less than a 1% chance of winning an appeal in the TMZ case. According to WADA, everything was handled by the book, and if the body was faced with the same situation again, it would do nothing differently.
Has China been unfairly singled out?
So, has WADA succeeded in changing the narrative? Probably not.
Why? Because putting the words “China” and “doping” together is a lightning rod in the current political climate given the intense rivalry between China and the US.
Every time the US team marches into an Olympic Games, or steps up onto a World Championships medal podium, do we point at them while recalling memories of the US Postal Service cycling team and the banned-for-life cyclist Lance Armstrong?
But when it comes to China, many observers are quick to name and shame athletes, viewing every news story as some kind of proof the country must have a systemic, state-sanctioned doping program.
Stories in the media about a possible medal redistribution in the Tokyo Olympic swimming events have falsely raised the hopes of those who finished behind the Chinese athletes – and likely been an unwanted distraction for the Chinese team preparing for the Paris Olympics.
Olympic purists might want to believe the Games are above politics. But with the US facing a pivotal election, wars being fought around the world and both Russia and China being cast as threats to democracy, the geopolitical stakes at these games are far greater than the politics of doping.
WADA – like the United Nations and other organisations – finds itself in the cross hairs of the great power struggle of our time: a rising China and its challenge to US dominance.
Catherine Ordway previously worked as the Group Director Enforcement and Group Director Detection for the Australian Sports Anti-Doping Authority (now Sport Integrity Australia). The University of Canberra and Sport Integrity Australia have a memorandum of understanding in place to support a number of research projects, including a PhD project that Catherine supervises titled: “Optimising the Anti-Doping Framework: Unveiling Athlete Perspectives and Proposing Enhancements for a More Effective System.” Catherine is also a member of the World Anti-Doping Agency Social Science Research Expert Advisory Group, a voluntary position that provides advice and guidance to WADA’s Social Science grant program for funding for academics working on anti-doping projects.
Tracey Holmes does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Cally Jetta, Senior Lecturer and Academic Lead; College for First Nations, University of Southern Queensland
Australian War Memorial
Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are advised this article contains names and images of deceased people, as well as sensitive historical information related to Indigenous war service.
Since the 1860s, thousands of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples have served in the Australian Defence Force. They have fought in every major war from the Boer War to Afghanistan. More than 1,000 Aboriginal and Torres Islanders served in the first world war, with at least 70 stationed on the front lines and in the trenches at Gallipoli.
At the outbreak of WWI, the 1910 amendment to the Australian Defence Act of 1903 prevented persons “not substantially of European origin or descent” from enlisting. In addition, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders weren’t yet considered Australian citizens and were therefore automatically excluded from enlisting.
Despite this, many Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders answered the call to defend their country by hiding their racial identity to enlist.
This Anzac Day, we can point to many examples of mainstream media projects, both fiction and non-fiction, dedicated to the Australian experience of WWI. But within these stories is a striking lack of Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander people or characters that represent the wartime sacrifices made by First Nations peoples.
Why have their contributions been erased? And when will they be remembered?
Fighting for Country
Serving on the ground, in the air and on the sea, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people entered the war effort for several reasons.
The propaganda that encouraged white Australians to enlist in search of travel and adventure also reached Aboriginal reserves and communities, having a similar impact. The chance to earn a wage and gain an education were also attractive causes as these rights were heavilyrestricted for Indigenous Australians at the time.
For the most part, however, the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people who joined the war effort did so out of a deep love for their country. As the Australian War Memorial’s first Indigenous liaison officer, Gary Oakley, explains:
They had that warrior spirit and they wanted to prove themselves.
These men were willing to fight for their country’s freedom alongside countrymen who were not willing to fight for their freedom. Their loyalty to the land, and responsibility to protect it, were too powerful to ignore.
Yet, once the war ended, they returned to as much discrimination (if not more) than before it began. Any hopes of equal treatment by the Australian government and white society on account of their service were quickly dashed.
Returned Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander soldiers were denied the recognition and support schemes provided to their non-Indigenous comrades. Even today, many families and communities continue to seek due recognition for Indigenous peoples’ contributions to the war effort.
This 1917 photo in Beersheba, Palestine, is said to show men and horses from the 11th Australian Light Horse Brigade, the day after the Allied forces charged Beersheba and captured the town from the Turks. Australian War Memorial/Donor N. MacDonald
Indigenous people’s contributions during WWI continue to be left out of major mainstream media productions. Before Dawn (2024), the most recent Australian film based on the war, fails to include a single Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander person in its cast.
This trend continues in Beneath Hill 60 (2010), Ghosts of War (2010), Forbidden Ground (2013), An Accidental Hero (2013), William Kelly’s War (2014) and Water Diviner (2014). Earlier films such as The Lighthorsemen (1987) and Gallipoli (1981) – perhaps the most iconic Australian WWI film – also fails to include or even mention an Indigenous presence.
And there was indeed a presence. Consider James Lingwoodock, a Kabi Kabi from Queensland.
A renowned horseman, Lingwoodock joined the 11th Light Horse Regiment and fought in (and survived) the 1917 Battle of Beersheba – a significant victory for Australia. He returned to Australia in 1919.
The double wedding party of 11th Light Horse Regiment members James Lingwoodock (left) and John Geary (fourth from left), along with Daisy Lingwoodock (nee Roberts) (second from left), an unidentified woman, the Reverend W.P.B. Miles (second from right) and Alice Geary (nee Bond) (right). State Library of Queensland
Consider also the four Noongar brothers from the township of Katanning, Western Australia, who entered the battlefields of WWI. Lewis and Larry Farmer both fought and survived at Gallipoli, but Larry was later killed on the Western Front. A third brother, Augustus Pegg Farmer – the first Aboriginal soldier awarded the Military Medal for bravery – was killed in action several months later.
Lewis eventually made it home to Katanning, along with the fourth brother, Kenneth.
Kenneth Farmer (top left), Pegg Farmer (bottom left), Larry Farmer (top right) and Lewis Farmer (bottom right) pictured in a 1916 edition of the Sunday Times. Trove
Untold stories
There have been some film and television projects dedicated to the Australian Frontier Wars, which were fought between First Nations peoples and the first waves of British invaders. Two examples are the documentary The Australian Wars (2022) and the film Higher Ground (2020).
Similarly, the Australian War Memorial collection includes Indigenous-produced documentaries and short films that capture the varied experiences of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander servicemen and women. But it’s fair to say such projects sit outside the popular media most Australians are exposed to.
We need more collaborations that will bring Indigenous wartime stories to mainstream audiences, while retaining their cultural integrity. We also need to ensure Indigenous ownership and control over these stories.
Where is the onscreen tale of the Indigenous Anzac soldier who obscured his racial identity to enlist? The solider who risked life and limb for Country? Who survived through horrors, only to be excluded from all forms of post-war recognition and compensation? Whose traditional land was portioned up and gifted to returned white soldiers? Who struggled with post-war trauma in silence and isolation and who died without being acknowledged?
These stories, along with a great many others, are waiting to be told. The Indigenous persons who served in WWI, and their descendants, deserve to have them heard – just as all Australians deserve the opportunity to hear them.
I would like to sincerely acknowledge the diverse traditional custodians of this great land – their respective communities, Elders and Countries. I particularly acknowledge the Binjarub, Noongar nation, peoples and Country where I reside. I acknowledge the collective contributions, past and present, and pay my deepest respects to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander service peoples for their courage and sacrifices: an ongoing source of strength and pride for us all.
Cally Jetta does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Melissa Lee has been ousted from New Zealand’s coalition cabinet and stripped of the Media portfolio, and Penny Simmonds has lost the Disability Issues portfolio in a reshuffle.
Climate Change and Revenue Minister Simon Watts will take Lee’s spot in cabinet.
Simmonds was a minister outside of cabinet.
The changes came today five months to the day after Luxon first announced the ministerial roles and responsibilities.
Prime Minister Christopher Luxon announced the changes in a statement this afternoon.
He said Justice Minister Paul Goldsmith — currently overseas — would take over the Media and Broadcasting role, while Social Development Minister Louise Upston would pick up Disability Issues.
Repeated questions She faced repeated questions about what the government would do about the closure of Newshub, with Labour saying she had “more than enough time” to find solutions.
She admitted the handling of the disability funding changes — which included restricting the way equipment and support services were funded — was bungled, and later apologised for it.
‘Changing circumstances’ Speaking to reporters, Luxon said the changes were about making sure the government had “the right people on the right assignment at the right time”.
“In both these cases of both these portfolios there have been significant changes and complexities added to them over the course since the ministers were allocated these responsibilities . . . there’s a lot more complexity added to these portfolios.”
He avoided saying whether either of the ministers had done anything wrong, despite multiple questions about why they deserved the demotions — particularly Lee, who had been an MP for 16 years and held the media portfolio for the National Party since 2017.
Lee’s removal from cabinet was a “recognition that there is a lower workload” and did not mean she would not return to cabinet at a later date, he said, but changes in the media industry had “moved quicker, faster, sooner and as a result I want to make sure that there is a good senior cabinet minister responsibility around the issues”.
On disability issues, he said there had been “a habit now” of cost overruns and poor financial management, but there was “innately more complexity” in both portfolios.
He was questioned over whether the ministers had requested the portfolios’ removal, and said “ultimately this was my decision”.
When asked if it was a warning shot to his caucus, he said he was just a person who “will adapt very quickly and dynamically to changing circumstances and situations”.
‘How I roll, lead’ “This is how I roll, this is how I lead . . . I appreciate this may not be the way things have been done in the past here, but expect this to happen going forward as well.”
He had spoken to the relevant ministers about the decision earlier in the morning, and it had been a “tough day” for them, he said.
“It’s understandable . . . it is disappointing if you’re the individual, but the reality is they know that they are really valued by our team, we have full confidence in them, they’re doing a good job on their other portfolios and they have important contributions to make.”
Penny Simmonds . . . “major financial issues with programmes run by the Ministry of Disabled People.” Image: RNZ/Angus Dreaver
Luxon said he had informed both his coalition partners. Asked if he would have the authority to use the same approach with them, he said “I’m the prime minister and I determine ultimately the performance of my cabinet ministers”.
He said they had a “very strong cadre” of women at the heart of the government doing good jobs.
In his earlier statement, Luxon said it had “become clear in recent months that there are significant challenges in the media sector. Similarly, we have discovered major financial issues with programmes run by the Ministry of Disabled People”.
“I have come to the view it is important to have senior cabinet ministers considering these issues.”
‘Significant synergies’ He said there were “significant synergies” between Goldsmith’s Arts, Culture and Heritage portfolio and the Media role he would be taking up.
He said he had asked Upston to pick up the disability role because Whaikaha, the Ministry of Disabled People, was a departmental agency within the Ministry of Social Development.
“This will free Penny Simmonds up to focus on the Environment portfolio and the major changes she is progressing to improve tertiary education,” he said.
Lee retains her Economic Development, Ethnic Communities and Associate ACC roles as a minister outside cabinet.
Simmonds, who remains outside cabinet, retains Environment, Tertiary Education and Skills, and Associate Social Development and Employment.
This article is republished under a community partnership agreement with RNZ.
Some reports and popular books, such as Bill Gammage’s Biggest Estate on Earth, have argued that extensive areas of Australia’s forests were kept open through frequent burning by First Nations people. Advocates for widespread thinning and burning of these forests have relied on this belief. They argue fire is needed to return these forests to their “pre-invasion” state.
A key question then is: what does the evidence say about what tall, wet forests actually looked like 250 years ago? The answer matters because it influences how these forests are managed. It’s also needed to guide efforts to restore them to their natural state.
In a new scientific paper, we looked carefully at the body of evidence on the natural pre-invasion state of Australian forests, such as those dominated by majestic mountain ash (Eucalyptus regnans), the world’s tallest flowering plant. We analysed historical documents, First Nations Peoples’ recorded testimonies and the scientific evidence.
Our analysis shows most areas of mainland mountain ash forests were likely to have been dense and wet at the time of British invasion. The large overstorey eucalypt trees were relatively widely spaced, but there was a dense understorey of broad-leaved shrubs, tree ferns and mid-storey trees, including elements of cool temperate rainforest.
Old-growth mountain ash forest in Tarra Bulga National Park on Brataualung Country. Chris Taylor
We looked at many sources of historical evidence. We read colonial expeditioners’ diaries. We reviewed colonial paintings and photographs. We sought out recorded and published testimonies from First Nations People. We compiled evidence from studies such as those that used carbon dating, tree rings and pollen cores.
We also examined the basic ecology of how the forests grow and develop, the plants’ level of fire sensitivity and different animals’ habitat needs.
As an example of the many accounts we found, 19th-century civil servant and mining engineer Robert Brough Smyth wrote about:
[…] heavily timbered ranges lying between Hoddle’s Creek and Wilson’s Promontory. The higher parts and the flanks of these ranges are covered with dense scrubs, and in the rich alluviums bordering the creeks and rivers the trees are lofty, and the undergrowth luxuriant; indeed in some parts so dense as to be impenetrable without an axe and bill-hook.
Similarly, in 1824, colonial explorers Hamilton Hume and William Hovell described their encounter with mountain ash forests at Mount Disappointment in Victoria:
Here […] they find themselves completely at a stand, without clue or guide as to the direction in which they are to proceed; the brush wood so thick that it was impossible to see before them in any direction ten yards.
The ecological and other scientific evidence suggests mountain ash forests evolved under conditions where high-severity bushfires were rare. As a result, mature forests of eucalypt trees of multiple ages dominated these landscapes. There was no evidence of active and widespread use of recurrent low-severity fire or thinning.
Our key conclusion is that these forests were not open or park-like – as was the case in some other vegetation types in Australia.
First Nations People knew not all Country needs fire
Importantly, tall wet forests were not wilderness. Rather, they were places of significance for First Nations People. They used these forests seasonally to access important sites and resources and as pathways to visit others in neighbouring Countries.
There is no doubt parts of Australia were subject to recurrent cultural burning for many diverse and important reasons before the British invasion. However, our discussions with Traditional Custodians in the Central Highlands of Victoria, including Elders, indicate cultural burning was not widely practised in most of the mountain ash forests there. Nor were these forests actively thinned.
Many First Nations People advocate the need to consider ecological responses to fire. The right fire (or not) for the right Country is a guiding principle of traditional fire management. In the words of Elder and cultural fire practitioner Victor Steffensen:
Aboriginal fire knowledge is based on Country that needs fire, and also Country that doesn’t need fire. Even Country we don’t burn is an important part of fire management knowledge and must be within the expertise of a fire practitioner.
Repeated burning, and even low-severity fire, is unsuited to the ecology of tall, wet forests. It can lead to their collapse and replacement by entirely different vegetation such as wattle scrub.
Thinning and burning will also destroy habitat for a wide range of species. They include critically endangered ones such as Leadbeater’s possum. Indeed, mountain ash forests are themselves recognised as a critically endangered ecosystem.
Thinned alpine ash forest that was subsequently burned in the 2009 fires near Lake Mountain. Chris Taylor
The compelling evidence we compiled all indicates mountain ash forests were dense, wet environments, not open and park-like, at the time of British invasion.
The use of scientific evidence is essential for managing Australia’s natural environments. Based on this evidence, we should not be deliberately burning or thinning these forests, which will have adverse impacts.
Rather, restoration should involve letting these forests mature. We should aim to expand the size of the old-growth forest estate to precolonial levels. Where regeneration has failed, practices such as planting and reseeding will be important to restore ecological values.
David Lindenmayer receives funding from the Victorian and Australian governments. He is a member of the Biodiversity Council and Birds Australia.
Elle Bowd receives funding from the NSW government.
Chris Taylor and Philip Zylstra do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
With Jim Chalmers’s third budget on May 14, Australians will be looking for some more cost-of-living relief – beyond the tax cuts – although they have been warned extra measures will be modest.
As this week’s consumer price index showed, the battle with inflation has not yet been won. The government can’t afford to have an over-generous budget add to inflation and further delay a pre-election reduction in interest rates.
In this podcast, we’re joined by independent economist Chris Richardson to discuss the budget and Australia’s economic outlook.
Richardson say while the growth figure will be downgraded in the budget, not all is bad,
It will be downgraded, for the year just finishing, for the financial year just soon to start. It is tough times. To be fair, the Australian economy is growing. There hasn’t been a recession. There hasn’t been some of the problems that people expected.
On inflation, however, he says the new figures paint a much bleaker picture,
They are ugly. So, in the last three months, prices grew by 1%. Over the last year, they grew by a bit more than 3.5%. And yes, it’s falling. It’s not falling as fast as the Reserve Bank had predicted. There’d been hopes from some people that there might be an interest rate cut sooner rather than later.
But those numbers today, I tell you: absolutely, you are not getting a rate cut in Australia until the end of this calendar year at best.
Like many other economists, Richardson is critical of Anthony Albanese’s Future Made in Australia interventionist industry policy. He says while there’s some potential benefit, the government doesn’t seem to be focused on the right areas,
You look at something like solar panels, and throwing money at that is just spectacularly dumb. That is just a waste of money. It’s the equivalent of asking taxpayers to smoke $100 notes. And I do worry that bits of the new industry policy are a little bit more around having announcements in some key marginal seats in Queensland, for example, then they are around good policy.
Michelle Grattan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Among the many Australian who served during the second world war, there is a small group of people whose stories remain largely untold. These are the Muslim men and women who, while small in number, made significant contributions and sacrifices during the war effort.
Living in the time of the White Australia Policy, they were simultaneously wanted and rejected. Despite their sacrifices, many faced discrimination, and even deportation upon their return.
Our ongoing research is looking into the lives of Australian-Muslim servicemen and women during WWII. In doing so, we have come across incredible stories of sacrifice and hardship that reveal not all war veterans were treated equally, nor are they all remembered the same.
Australia’s Muslim Anzacs were a mix of Australian-born people and migrants. The Australian-born were the children and grandchildren of Afghan cameleers, Malay traders and Javanese labourers.
Several descendants of Afghan cameleers had Indigenous heritage, such as William “Billy” Bonsop of Mackay, who died in battle in New Guinea in 1943, and Akbar Namith Khan of Oodnadatta, who had active service in the Northern Territory.
Others were temporary immigrants who, with the outbreak of war, were unable to return home. When WWII began, many Albanian men were in Australia as part of the cultural practice of “kurbet”, where men would work abroad to earn money for their family.
One of these Albanians was Kurtali Raman of Mareeba, North Queensland – a place where many Albanians went to work on tobacco farms. Raman joined the 2/31 Battalion, and was among the first Australian soldiers to re-enter the village of Kokoda when it was taken back from the Japanese. He was killed in action at Papua on December 1 1942, at age 35.
Kurtali Raman was born in Albania in 1907. Australian Government Archives
Bravery, loss and betrayal
Another group of stranded workers were Indonesian and Malay indenturedpearl divers. One man whose service exemplifies both the sacrifice and injustice of war was Malaysian-born Abu Kassim bin Marah.
Abu Kassim bin Marah’s enlistment photo. Australian Government Archives
Abu Kassim arrived in Broome as a teenager in 1933 to work in the pearling industry. At the outbreak of war, he was living with his long-term partner, Patricia Djiween, and their two daughters, Faye and Georgina. Patricia was Indigenous and, despite the family they had made, Western Australia’s “Protector of Aborigines” at the time (the government official appointed to oversee the welfare of Aboriginal people) denied them permission to marry.
Following the Japanese bombing of Broome in February 1942, Broome’s pearl divers were evacuated to Fremantle. The Malays and Indonesians were classified as “allied aliens” which meant they could enlist, which Abu Kassim did.
He was first assigned to a labour battalion where his seafaring skills were put to use in water transport. However, while serving the country, the government removed his two daughters from their mother’s care and placed them in an orphanage.
In 1944, the Z Special Unit, based in Australia recruited Abu Kassim and several other divers after failing to successfully insert white Australian soldiers behind enemy lines. The divers were promised naturalisation and an end to their indenture as incentives to join.
Their fitness, language skills and local knowledge of Southeast Asia proved invaluable. Abu Kassim trained at the Fraser Island Commando School and his unit chose him as one of the first to be deployed overseas as part of Operation Semut. In April 1945, Abu Kassim parachuted into Japanese-held Sarawak in Borneo.
Having first contacted friendly Kelabit villagers, Abu Kassim and his companions moved up the Rejang River, convincing local Iban and Kayan people – who had a history of enmity with one another – to put aside their differences and support the Australians. He recruited many local people to join their guerrilla force against the Japanese.
Abu Kassim was part of the Semut II team at Long Akar, Borneo, which undertook missions behind Japanese lines. He is pictured here (second left) with other members of his team. Australian War Memorial
Abu Kassim then went ahead through the Japanese-held jungle to reach the coast, scouting enemy positions and gathering intelligence. He participated in guerrilla warfare against the Japanese, during which he was wounded in hand-to-hand combat.
He repatriated to Australia in December 1945. He was sick from his wounds and jungle illnesses, and soon discovered he had leukaemia. Upon his return, he applied for naturalisation but was rejected. As he was too sick to return to pearl diving, the government announced its intentions to deport him.
Abu Kassim was also unable to reunite with Patricia, since she was now married to a man named Snowy Dodson. But Abu Kassim gave his blessing for their union and for Dodson to look after his children. The two sisters would later be joined by two brothers, Patrick and MichaelPat and Mick Dodson went on to become prominent Aboriginal leaders, and a senator and barrister, respectively.
Abu Kassim‘s deportation orders were being processed when he died of leukaemia on March 3 1949. The veteran was buried in an unmarked grave in the Muslim section of Karrakatta Cemetery in Perth.
Only in 2021 was his grandson able to right some of the wrongs of his treatment and identify his grave so it could have a headstone.
Our documentary, Crescent Under the Southern Cross.
Lest we forget
Despite the promise of rewards for their service, many of the other divers were held to the indentured labour agreements they had with pearling bosses.
The Albanians fared better. For them, war service became a pathway to naturalisation. Many of these men, such as Laver Xhemali and Mustafa “James” Sheriff, successfully had families and became important members of their communities. Laver Xhemali died in 1991 at age 70. His grave plaque is the first Australian War Memorial grave to feature the Islamic crescent.
At the same time, many Australian-born Muslim servicemen returned to face the same discrimination they endured before the war, and their service faded into obscurity.
Dr Simon Wilmot received funding from Department of Veteran’s Affairs.
James Barry received funding from the Department of Veterans’ Affairs to complete part of this project.
There has been much analysis and praise of Justice Michael Lee’s recent judgement in Bruce Lehrmann’s defamation case against Channel Ten. Many people were openly relieved to read Lee’s “forensic” and “nuanced” application of law and good sense. Journalist Annabel Crabb wrote the judgement was a “lesson in shades of grey”.
What is not said, however, is that a significant factor in this case is that Lehrmann gave evidence. This is a major difference from the aborted criminal prosecution in 2022, in which Lehrmann relied on his right to silence at trial.
Lee’s decision in this defamation case is a clarion call. It compels us to think more creatively about approaches to prosecuting sex crimes, acknowledging a stark reality: in an “adversarial” legal system, a fair trial in these cases is rarely achieved by providing one of usually only two parties with a right to silence.
In essence, the right to silence is the right for an accused person not to incriminate themself through their own testimony. In Australia, it is mostly seen as a central part of the presumption of innocence for serious crimes. It is widely used.
At first glance, this seems fair enough. The prosecution should have to prove its case beyond reasonable doubt to avoid wrongful conviction. The right to silence can protect against abuses of process by the state against the individual.
Yet, like many sexual assault and child sexual abuse cases, this trial boiled down to an accusation and a denial: one person’s word against another. It was key to Channel Ten’s legal case, seeking to defend the claims it reported as true.
Given the nature of sex crimes, which mostly happen in private, there is often no hard evidence. There is no CCTV footage or “third party” witness. There is often no paper trail or easy basis for DNA testing where the accused is known or the case is about consent.
There are also reasons why victims of a sex crime might not have the perpetrator’s skin under their fingernails, for example, and why they don’t rush to a police station for immediate forensic testing. There can be a significant power imbalance between the people involved.
So, cases like Lehrmann’s come down to the credibility of the people involved and whatever can be gleaned from the broader circumstances.
Time for a rethink
What ultimately brought Lehrmann undone in this civil trial was that he chose to give evidence in defence of his reputation. He likely chose to testify because under New South Wales defamation law, the person alleging they’ve been defamed has the onus of proving the statements were, in fact, defamatory. For five days, the open court heard and felt the quality of his evidence and character.
This case was a rare chance to see what happens when everyone tells their story about an alleged rape. The decision is a basis from which legal reformers and academics should be seriously questioning the role of the right to silence in sex crime cases.
Despite ongoing reforms to improve things, victim-survivors of sex crimes still regularly face abuses of process in the current system.
This includes a culture of defence barristers using rape myths to destroy a victim’s credit as a witness. It also includes women being silenced by the law from talking about their experience and trauma.
Lee’s masterclass in sorting the evidentiary wheat from the chaff shows how judges with solid understandings of trauma and sexual assault are perhaps better suited than juries to navigate complex legal concepts such as “probative” and “prejudicial” evidence and witness “credit”, as they apply to sex cases.
An inquisitorial process may also work better, whereby judges can make reasonable inquiries of all parties throughout an investigation and trial, bound by rules of evidence, but active in getting to the truth of the matter. Such judges could balance the rights of both the accused and the alleged victim.
This kind of change is obviously big and structural but not unprecedented in Australia. Coronial hearings routinely exercise inquisitorial powers.
While we ultimately don’t know what the jury would have found in Lehrmann’s criminal case, the deeply flawed approach to sex crimes in Australia today means it’s time for a rethink.
Hopefully, Lee’s competent treatment of this complex case is not an aberration but the cultural moment when we start to think about what’s possible.
Kelly Saunders receives funding from the federal government for her PhD research via a stipend scholarship.
Around one in 20 people has attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). It’s one of the most common neurodevelopmental disorders in childhood and often continues into adulthood.
ADHD is diagnosed when people experience problems with inattention and/or hyperactivity and impulsivity that negatively impacts them at school or work, in social settings and at home.
Some people call the condition attention-deficit disorder, or ADD. So what’s the difference?
In short, what was previously called ADD is now known as ADHD. So how did we get here?
The first clinical description of children with inattention, hyperactivity and impulsivity was in 1902. British paediatrician Professor George Still presented a series of lectures about his observations of 43 children who were defiant, aggressive, undisciplined and extremely emotional or passionate.
Since then, our understanding of the condition evolved and made its way into the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, known as the DSM. Clinicians use the DSM to diagnose mental health and neurodevelopmental conditions.
The first DSM, published in 1952, did not include a specific related child or adolescent category. But the second edition, published in 1968, included a section on behaviour disorders in young people. It referred to ADHD-type characteristics as “hyperkinetic reaction of childhood or adolescence”. This described the excessive, involuntary movement of children with the disorder.
In the early 1980s, the third DSM added a condition it called “attention deficit disorder”, listing two types: attention deficit disorder with hyperactivity (ADDH) and attention deficit disorder as the subtype without the hyperactivity.
However, seven years later, a revised DSM (DSM-III-R) replaced ADD (and its two sub-types) with ADHD and three sub-types we have today:
ADHD replaced ADD in the DSM-III-R in 1987 for a number of reasons.
First was the controversy and debate over the presence or absence of hyperactivity: the “H” in ADHD. When ADD was initially named, little research had been done to determine the similarities and differences between the two sub-types.
The next issue was around the term “attention-deficit” and whether these deficits were similar or different across both sub-types. Questions also arose about the extent of these differences: if these sub-types were so different, were they actually different conditions?
Meanwhile, a new focus on inattention (an “attention deficit”) recognised that children with inattentive behaviours may not necessarily be disruptive and challenging but are more likely to be forgetful and daydreamers.
People with inattentive behaviours may be more forgetful or daydreamers. fizkes/Shutterstock
Why do some people use the term ADD?
There was a surge of diagnoses in the 1980s. So it’s understandable that some people still hold onto the term ADD.
Some may identify as having ADD because out of habit, because this is what they were originally diagnosed with or because they don’t have hyperactivity/impulsivity traits.
Others who don’t have ADHD may use the term they came across in the 80s or 90s, not knowing the terminology has changed.
How is ADHD currently diagnosed?
The three sub-types of ADHD, outlined in the DSM-5 are:
predominantly inattentive. People with the inattentive sub-type have difficulty sustaining concentration, are easily distracted and forgetful, lose things frequently, and are unable to follow detailed instructions
predominantly hyperactive-impulsive. Those with this sub-type find it hard to be still, need to move constantly in structured situations, frequently interrupt others, talk non-stop and struggle with self control
combined. Those with the combined sub-type experience the characteristics of those who are inattentive and hyperactive-impulsive.
ADHD diagnoses continue to rise among children and adults. And while ADHD was commonly diagnosed in boys, more recently we have seen growing numbers of girls and women seeking diagnoses.
However, some international experts contest the expanded definition of ADHD, driven by clinical practice in the United States. They argue the challenges of unwanted behaviours and educational outcomes for young people with the condition are uniquely shaped by each country’s cultural, political and local factors.
Regardless of the name change to reflect what we know about the condition, ADHD continues to impact educational, social and life situations of many children, adolescents and adults.
Kathy Gibbs does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
The West Papuan resistance OPM leader has condemned Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese and US President Joe Biden, accusing their countries of “six decades of treachery” over Papuan independence.
The open letter was released today by OPM chairman Jeffrey P Bomanak on the eve of ANZAC Day 2024.
Praising the courage and determination of Papuans against the Japanese Imperial Forces in World War Two, Bomanak said: “There were no colonial borders in this war — we served Allied Pacific Theatre campaigns across the entire island of New Guinea.
“Our island! From Sorong to Samurai!”
Bomanak’s open letter, addressed to Prime Minister Albanese and President Biden, declared:
“If you cannot stand by those who stood by you, then your idea of ‘loyalty’ and ‘remembrance’ being something special is a myth, a fairy tale.
“There is nothing special in treachery. Six decades of treachery following the Republic of Indonesia’s invasion and fraudulent annexation, always knowing that we were being massacred, tortured, and raped. Our resources, your intention all along.
“When the Japanese Imperial Forces came to our island, you chose our homes to be your defensive line. We fed and nursed you. We formed the Papuan Infantry Brigade. We became your Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels.
“We even fought alongside you and shared the pain and suffering of hardship and loss.
“There were no colonial borders in this war — we served Allied Pacific Theatre campaigns across the entire island of New Guinea. Our island! From Sorong to Samurai!
OPM leader Jeffrey Bomanak . . . his open letter condemns Australia and the US leadership for preventing decolonisation of West Papua. Image: OPM
“Your war became our war. Your graves, our graves. The photos [in the open letter] are from the Australian War Memorial. The part of the legend always ringing true — my people — Papuans! – with your WWII defence forces.
“My message is to you, not ANZAC veterans. We salute the ANZACs. Your unprincipled greed divided our island. Exploitation, no matter what the cost.
“West Papua is filled with Indonesia’s barbarity and the blood and guts of 500,000 Papuans — men, women, and children. Torture, slaughter, and rape of my people in our ancestral homes led by your betrayal.
“In 1969, to help prevent our decolonisation, you placed two of our leaders on Manus Island instead of allowing them to reach the United Nations in New York — an act of shameless appeasement as a criminal accomplice to a mass-murderer (Suharto) that would have made Hideki Tojo proud.
“RAAF Hercules transported 600 TNI [Indonesian military] to slaughter us on Biak Island in 1998. Australian and US subsidies, weapons and munitions to RI, provide logistics for slaughter and bombing of our highland villages. Still happening!
“You were silent about the 1998 roll of film depicting victims of the Biak Island massacre, and you destroyed this roll of film in March 2014 after the revelations from the Biak Massacre Citizens Tribunal were aired on the ABC’s 7:30 Report. (Grateful for the integrity of Edmund McWilliams, Political Counselor at the US Embassy in Jakarta, for his testimony.)
“Every single act and action of your betrayal contravenes Commonwealth and US Criminal Codes and violates the UN Charter, the Genocide Act, and the Torture Convention. The price of this cowardly servitude to assassins, rapists, torturers, and war criminals — from war criminal Suharto to war criminal Prabowo [current President of Indonesia] — complicity and collusion in genocide, ethnocide, infanticide, and wave after wave of ethnic cleansing.
“Friends, we will not forget you? You threw us into the gutter! As Australian and American leaders, your remembrance day is a commemoration of a tradition of loyalty and sacrifice that you have failed to honour.”
The OPM chairman and commander Bomanak concluded his open letter with the independence slogan “Papua Merdeka!” — Papua freedom.
Imagine having dinner at a restaurant. The menu offers plant-based meat alternatives made mostly from vegetables, mushrooms, legumes and wheat that mimic meat in taste, texture and smell. Despite being given that choice, you decide to order a traditional meat or vegetable dish. That’s a common decision.
The Australian plant-based meat industry has grown significantly in recent years and has been projected to become a A$3 billion industry by 2030. Yet most consumers still hesitate to order a plant-based meat dish in restaurants.
In our new study, we asked 647 Australians why they don’t order plant-based meat dishes when dining out.
It turns out not everyone shares the same reasons. We found six types of diner who avoided these dishes.
The 6 types of diner
Type 1: environmentally conscious, plant-based meat eater
The environmentally conscious plant-based meat eater doesn’t have any issues with meat alternatives. In fact, they enjoy experimenting with plant-based meat products at home. They have their favourite brands but also dislike certain products.
To avoid eating a product they don’t like, they prefer ordering traditional vegetable dishes when dining out. They are more concerned about protecting the planet than their own health.
Type 2: health-conscious, plant-based meat supporter
Type 2 is similar to type 1, except type 2 diners care about being fit and healthy. They prefer to “just eat the vegetables they use to make the fake meat”, as one study participant told us, because they think meat alternatives contain too much sodium, soy, fat, sugar and genetically modified ingredients.
Type 3: curious plant-based meat avoider
The curious plant-based meat avoider typically orders a meat dish and occasionally a vegetable option. They sit on the fence when it comes to plant-based meat.
While they are curious to try it, they aren’t familiar with it and don’t want to risk disappointment. As a type 3 diner told us:
If I were offered a sample, I would be more inclined to try it but […] the risk of it being disappointing doesn’t justify the cost.
Type 4: sceptical plant-based meat avoider
Like the curious plant-based meat avoider, type 4 diners order more meat than vegetable dishes. They believe meat alternatives are unhealthy because “reading the back of plant-based meat packages will typically reveal a plethora of chemicals”. They don’t trust the technology used to create plant-based meat.
They also do not support the idea of mimicking meat with plants and giving these products names similar to animal meat such as burger or steak.
Type 5: indifferent meat lover
The indifferent meat lover doesn’t have any issues with plant-based meat. Yet they wouldn’t consider ordering a plant-based meat dish. Eating meat is an integral part of their restaurant experience and they “wouldn’t know how you’d mimic meat sliding off a bone”.
Although most of their family and friends also order meat dishes, they have no problem with restaurants offering meat alternatives if they are clearly labelled and don’t limit meat options. They believe eating meat is natural, summed up by one who said:
There is a nutritional requirement for animal meat inherent in humans.
Type 6: critical meat lover
The critical meat lover dislikes everything about plant-based meat. They don’t understand why anyone would replace meat with a plant-based alternative, nor why it is important.
Several times I have eaten this garbage […] and thoroughly regretted it.
Why does this matter?
As David Attenborough says: “We must change our diet. The planet can’t support billions of meat-eaters.”
Occasionally ordering a plant-based meal instead of a meat dish can greatly reduce the environmental footprint of the global food system. Animal agriculture accounts for 56% of food-related greenhouse gas emissions but produces only 18% of calories and 37% of protein.
Plant-based alternatives to chicken, pork and beef emit, on average, 43%, 63% and 93% less greenhouse gas emissions.
This means a family of four ordering plant-based meat burgers instead of beef patties saves carbon emissions equal to driving from Brisbane to the Gold Coast.
5 ways restaurants can promote plant-based meat dishes
Restaurants are the perfect tasting ground to introduce diners (especially curious and sceptical plant-based meat avoiders) to meat alternatives. Here are five simple things restaurants can do to promote plant-based meat dishes:
hand out free samples to reduce the fear of disappointment
serve plant-based meat by default to break meat-ordering habits, as a Brisbane pub has done
describe plant-based meat with indulgent words and avoid using unappealing language, such as the word vegan
provide health information to overcome the belief that meat alternatives are unhealthier than meat, which is often not true
integrate plant-based meat dishes into the full menu rather than listing them in a separate vegetarian section.
David Fechner received funding from ProVeg International to conduct this study (Project number July2022-0000001199).
Bettina Grün received funding from the Austrian Science Fund (FWF) to conduct this study (Project DOI:10.55776/I4367).
Sara Dolnicar receives funding from the Australian Research Council.
An Australian-born judge in Kiribati could well face deportation later this week after a tribunal ruling that he should be removed from his post.
The tribunal’s report has just been tabled in the Kiribati Parliament and is due to be debated by MPs this week — the last week of the current parliamentary session ahead of the general election.
The Kiribati judiciary has been in turmoil for nearly four years now, with key judges removed and huge backlogs in the system.
Historically Kiribati had relied on expatriate judges for its senior courts but the man drawing the government’s ire here is David Lambourne, who, while Australian, has lived in Kiribati for many years, and is married to the current opposition leader, Tessie Lambourne.
What does the case centre on? There were a number of issues the government raised but the tribunal focused on one in particular and dismissed three others.
It said Lambourne had been remiss in failing to deliver a written decision on a civil court case in 2020.
This delay was at least partly due to covid-19 with Lambourne, in Australia for a judicial conference, unable to get back into Kiribati, which had shut its borders.
When he did get back, he faced myriad accusations, was stood down, and attempts were made to deport him, but a ruling heard by the then chief justice, New Zealand judge Bill Hastings, exonerated him.
An appeal by the government to the Court of Appeal also found in Lambourne’s favour, but the Kiribati government then removed all of those judges.
It should be noted that all of those judges were current or former members of the New Zealand judiciary and are held in high regard.
Where did this tribunal come from? It was set up by the government in May 2022, but it suspended its work two months later after Lambourne had challenged its existence.
It was staffed by a lay magistrate, a legal practitioner, a former public servant and a retired teacher.
It started work again in 2023 but this was again suspended when the High Court issued an interim injunction.
Then last month the government reconfigured the tribunal and it very quickly produced the report which politicians are shortly to discuss.
What conclusions did the tribunal reach? Its recommendation is that Parliament should consider removing Lambourne from his role as a Puisne Judge of the Kiribati High Court.
It said he had persistently disregarded the prompt delivery of written judgements, neglected to take thorough measures to prevent any misunderstanding about the fundamental role of a judicial officer, and, by behaving in a manner that created the perception of bias.
Another allegation claimed Lambourne bullied a 57-year-old staffer in the judiciary, by yelling at him. The tribunal said this was unacceptable.
What can Lambourne expect? Kiribati President Taneti Maamau’s party dominates the Parliament and it will be wanting to eliminate this issue completely ahead of the elections, due in a few months.
So the Parliament could well vote later this week to deport him and for that to happen immediately.
Lambourne would have recourse to appeal the findings of the tribunal but doing that from outside of the country would be an issue.
This article is republished under a community partnership agreement with RNZ.
Swiss Elders for Climate Protection – KlimaSeniorinnen Schweiz – had challenged the Swiss government’s emissions reductions strategy as “wholly inadequate”. The court largely agreed. The decision has made waves in Europe. Might its ripples reach New Zealand’s shores?
Youth perspectives have resonance in climate cases, given the long-term implications of climate change and impacts of future emissions reductions policies. Cases such as the one taken by KlimaSeniorinnen take a different tack, pointing to the vulnerability of older people.
One applicant had been hospitalised after collapsing during a heatwave. She died during the court proceedings. Others had respiratory or cardiovascular problems exacerbated by rising temperatures. Their evidence aligns with New Zealand research on higher risks from climate change for older people.
President of the European Court of Human Rights Siofra O’Leary leads the hearing involving the Swiss case against government climate action. Getty Images
Emissions policy on trial
The Swiss women argued, first in the Swiss domestic courts and then in the European Court of Human Rights, that their government’s failure to implement adequate emissions reductions meant it had breached various human rights obligations, including the rights to life, and private and family life, under the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR).
In a 260-page ruling, the court agreed that the right to private life had been breached. But it said it didn’t need to reach a conclusion on the right to life claim. Having declared Switzerland in breach of its ECHR obligations, the court left it to the government to comply with the convention.
Like New Zealand, Switzerland has made international commitments to emissions reductions under the Paris Climate Agreement. However, the Swiss government struggled to pass legislation reflecting the accepted target reductions.
A national referendum in 2021 rejected a proposed CO₂ Act intended to translate the country’s Paris commitments into domestic law. It was not until June 2023 that a second referendum affirmed a replacement Climate Act. But by the time the European Court of Human Rights issued its decision, the Swiss Climate Act had not yet come into force.
The independent Climate Action Tracker has called Switzerland’s strategy “insufficient”. So it was unsurprising the court declared it in breach of its human rights obligations. The decision has obvious ramifications for the Swiss Confederation and other Council of Europe members. But could it also have implications closer to home?
The Swiss parliament in Bern struggled to implement agreed emissions targets. Getty Images
Implications for NZ courts
New Zealand is not bound by decisions of the European Court of Human Rights. But New Zealand courts regularly consider cases from overseas when determining claims.
Local activists, lawyers and judges will be poring over the judgement, which addresses a number of contested issues in existing and potential future cases in this jurisdiction.
First, New Zealand has ratified other international human rights instruments, including the United Nations International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR). New Zealand is also a party to the ICCPR’s Optional Protocol. This opens it up to compliance rulings by the UN Human Rights Committee, as occurred in the 2020 Teitoita v New Zealand climate-related case.
The New Zealand Bill of Rights Act imposes human rights obligations on public authorities. In a related claim to his climate case against Fonterra and others, Māori elder Mike Smith has sued the New Zealand government, claiming (among other things) that its inadequate emissions reductions framework breaches the rights to life and to practise culture under the Bill of Rights.
The case is currently at the Court of Appeal. If it goes to the Supreme Court or UN Human Rights Committee, the European Court of Human Rights decision in the KlimaSeniorinnen case could well feature prominently.
But KlimaSeniorinnen‘s relevance is not limited to human rights claims. An important aspect of the European judgement was a meticulous analysis of the factual and scientific context for the women’s claim.
The court comprehensively assessed the latest climate science, endorsing the need for “deep, rapid and sustained reductions in greenhouse gas emissions”. That part of the decision offers something of a model for New Zealand courts in all sorts of climate cases.
The case also addresses a perennial question in climate cases in New Zealand and elsewhere: what is the proper role and function of the courts in assessing government responses to climate change?
Arguments about judicial competence to review policy-laden regulatory responses were (and will be) central to these ongoing cases, including Lawyers for Climate Action v Climate Change Commission, now awaiting a decision by the New Zealand Court of Appeal.
In the KlimaSeniorinnen case, the European Court of Human Rights readily acknowledged limits to judicial involvement in climate policy. But it ruled “the Court’s competence in the context of climate change litigation cannot, as a matter of principle, be excluded”.
We can expect its thoughtful approach on this issue to be carefully considered in New Zealand cases.
The Swiss case was decided under a particular legal, constitutional and institutional setting, in many respects different to New Zealand’s. But there is much in the decision that could inform New Zealand judicial responses to common issues which – like greenhouse emissions themselves – know no national borders.
Vernon Rive does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Have you ever felt sick at work? Perhaps you had food poisoning or the flu. Your belly hurt, or you felt tired, making it hard to concentrate and be productive.
How likely would you be to tell your boss you were unwell and had to go home?
While employees would probably tell their boss about a stomach upset, many who menstruate and feel unwell as a consequence every month, are unlikely to talk about their difficult periods.
Especially at work. This was confirmed in our recent study of 247 students and workers who have periods. We found only 6.7% would be honest with their employer about why they had to leave work or stay at home.
Additionally, 87% of those surveyed – 96% identified as women – felt their period often interfered with their work or study.
One respondent told us, “I would sometimes just say I wasn’t well and needed to work from home to be near a bathroom. I would let people assume it was gastro.” Another said, “I do not feel comfortable giving this as a reason to miss work as it feels like an excuse despite living in chronic pain.”
The topic of menstruation is unquestionably still on the taboo list. And it is also clearly affecting the workplace.
The good news is we are starting to see initiatives aimed at making workplaces more inclusive for people who menstruate.
Earlier this month, Victorian government employees dealing with menstrual pain, menopausal symptoms and IVF treatments were given an extra five days sick leave as part of their Enterprise Bargaining Agreement negotiations.
But the Victorian Women’s Trust led the way in Australia being the first company to introduce a Menstrual and Menopause Wellbeing Policy”.
Other organisations including the Aintree Group, Fisher and Paykel Healthcare, the Cura Day Hospitals Group and sports business Core Climbing are also getting on board.
The list of employers may grow if campaigns such as the Electrical Trades Union’s ‘Nowhere to Go’ and The Retail and Fast Food Workers Union’s ‘We’re Bloody Essential’ are effective, as they are lobbying for more companies to consider the menstrual needs of their employees.
Having access to free period products seems to be paying off as our research found 84.6% of employees said it makes them feel their workplace cares about them and reduces the likelihood they will leave work due to their period.
One respondent explained, “Periods can be hard. I once bled through my clothes at work and had to leave. It was so stressful and humiliating. Free period products could just change someone’s day.”
This is encouraging, but also suggests accessible products alone won’t lift the taboo and support a menstrual-inclusive workplace. More needs to be done.
How to create a menstrual-inclusive workplace
1) Recognise the impact of periods
Our study identified people who menstruate regularly experience physical symptoms such as abdominal pain (94%), backache (82%), and headaches (82%) before or during their period. They also describe emotional symptoms such as anxiety, fatigue, depression and irritability.
One respondent said: “My cramps are so painful they make me feel physically sick – as though I will throw up. So I don’t like being out of the house because I can’t stand up straight.”
And another: “My period increases my general level of anxiety in class, at work, and in all other situations. It can cause me to be acutely anxious during my classes and work, and I struggle to concentrate.”
To avoid feelings of humiliation, shame and discrimination, people with their period often mask and hide symptoms. When this happens, employees report being less engaged and productive.
By empathising with menstruators who are impacted in a wide variety of ways, organisations can support and empower them to look after their general and menstrual well-being.
2) Become an inclusive leader
Inclusive leaders treat menstrual health as a justice and human rights issue that is collectively important for individuals and the organisation. These leaders recognise people with their period should be supported, so they talk to them about cultural and practical ways the workplace can make them feel safe and allow them to manage their period with dignity.
This might mean providing free period products or offering menstruators flexible breaks and work hours when having their periods. Inclusive leaders recognise some people may need paid menstrual leave.
3) Normalise discussions about menstruation
Inclusive leaders go further than practical strategies, they create a period-positive environment by challenging stigma and discrimination. They normalise conversations about menstruation, and ensure people who menstruate feel heard, supported and respected. They offer education and training to dismantle the menstrual taboo in workplaces, and replace it with a culture that embraces menstrual wellbeing.
Ultimately, to make our workplaces equitable and inclusive, we must be willing to talk about menstruation openly and honestly and learn about the impact it has on employees. Only then will workers feel able to talk about what supports their health needs.
Ruth Knight does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Everyone has a favourite band, or a favourite composer, or a favourite song. There is some music which speaks to you, deeply; and other music which might be the current big hit, but you can only hear nails on a chalkboard.
Every time a major artist releases their new album, the critics are there to tell you exactly how the artist got it right – or how they got it wrong. And the fans are there to tell the critic how they got it right or wrong, in turn.
So if we all have our own opinions on music, is it ever possible to judge it objectively? Or are we all subject to our subjective disagreements forever?
We asked five music experts to let us know what they thought. Here’s what they had to say.
Sam Whiting receives funding from Creative Australia and the Australasian Performing Right Association.
Catherine Strong receives funding from the ARC and the VMDO.
Charlotte Markowitsch, Laura Glitsos, and Timothy McKenry do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
When New Zealanders commemorate Anzac Day on April 25, it’s not only to honour the soldiers who lost their lives in World War I and subsequent conflicts, but also to mark a defining event for national identity.
The battle of Gallipoli against the Ottoman Empire, the story goes, was where the young nation passed its first test of courage and determination.
The question of why New Zealand soldiers ended up on Turkish beaches in April 1915 is typically not part of these commemorations. Rather, our collective memories begin with the moment of the early morning landing.
Consider, for example, the timing of the Anzac Day dawn service, or the Museum of New Zealand-Te Papa Tongarewa’s exhibition, Gallipoli: The Scale of Our War, which plunges visitors straight into the action.
This selective retelling of history is necessary for the “coming of age” narrative to work. It helps conceal that Britain was pursuing its own colonial ambitions against the Ottomans, and that New Zealand took part in World War I as “a member of the British club”, as historian Ian McGibbon puts it, loyally devoted to the imperial cause.
Against the background of the recent horrors and escalating tensions in the Middle East, however, it seems more important than ever to make these silences speak in our commemorations of Gallipoli.
Where collective memory begins: dawn service at the Auckland War Memorial Museum cenotaph. Getty Images
Britain’s colonial interests
While the causes of World War I are complex and multifaceted, historians have extensively documented that Britain had long seen parts of the decaying Ottoman Empire as prey for colonial expansion. Already, in the late 1800s, Britain had taken control of Cyprus and Egypt.
Turkey’s Middle Eastern possessions were of interest to the government in London because they provided not only a land route to the colony in India, but also rich oil reserves.
Hence, when the Ottoman Empire signed an alliance with Germany – mainly to guard against Russian territorial aspirations – and somewhat reluctantly entered World War I, the British did not lament this as a diplomatic defeat.
“The decrepit Ottoman Empire was more useful to them as a victim than as a dependent ally,” as the late historian Michael Howard explained.
The day after Britain declared war on the Ottomans on November 5 1914, British troops attacked Basra (in today’s southern Iraq) to secure nearby oil facilities.
In the following months, the Triple Entente of Britain, France and Russia won a number of easy victories, which fuelled the belief the Turkish military was weak. This in turn led Britain to devise a plan to launch a direct strike on Constantinople, the Ottoman capital.
First, however, they had to clear the Gallipoli peninsula of enemy defences. And who better suited to this task than the first convoy of Anzac troops, just a short distance away in Egypt after passing through the Suez Canal?
Australian, British, New Zealand and Indian cameliers in Palestine during World War I.
Palestine: a complex tangle of pledges
As is well known, war planners in London had underestimated the enemy’s military strength. The battle of Gallipoli ended in a Turkish victory over Britain and its allies. Nevertheless, fortunes eventually turned against the Ottoman Empire.
Although a whole century has gone by, British diplomatic efforts and secret agreements that were meant to accelerate the collapse of the Ottoman Empire still shape the Middle East today.
Most significantly, it is the violent conflict over Palestine that can be traced back to colonial power dealings during World War I. The crux of the problem is that Britain affirmed three irreconcilable wartime commitments in relation to Palestine.
First, in the hope of initiating an Arab revolt against Ottoman rule, the British made promises to Sharif Husayn, the emir of Mecca, about the creation of an independent Arab kingdom.
Second, in the Sykes-Picot Agreement, which divided the Ottomans’ Arab lands into British and French spheres of interest, Palestine was designated for international administration.
Third, in the Balfour Declaration
of November 1917, the British government pledged support for a “Jewish national home” in Palestine – a move motivated by a mixture of realpolitik and Biblical romanticism.
In the end, it was the third commitment that turned out to be the most enduring.
Lord Balfour inspecting troops at York Cathedral during World War I. Getty Images
How should we remember Gallipoli?
Amid this complex history, we must not forget the thousands of New Zealand soldiers who died in World War I – men who had either volunteered, expecting a quick and heroic war, or served as draftees.
However, we need to have a public discussion about whether it is still appropriate for our commemorations to skip over the question of why these men fought in Europe and the Mediterranean.
Facing up to this question not only makes us aware of our responsibilities towards the Middle East problem, but it can also serve as a lesson for the future – not to blindly follow great powers into their military adventures.
Olli Hellmann does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
No, it arrested, prosecuted, convicted, imprisoned and deported the Israeli agents, plus made them pay a big sum of damages. And it refused to restore normal diplomatic relations with Israel until Israel apologised to NZ. Which Israel did.
Today’s government needs to treat Israel the same way it treats other aggressors, like Russia, with the likes of sanctions.
And the government needs to designate Zionism as an inherently racist, terrorist ideology.
Everyone knows that the Gaza War would stop in five minutes if the US stopped arming Israel to the teeth and allowing it to commit genocide with impunity.
Israel is the mass murderer; the US is the enabler of mass murder.
New Zealand is part of the US Empire. The most useful thing we could do is to sever our ties to that empire, something we bravely started in the 1980s with the nuclear-free policy. Also, do these things:
Develop a genuinely independent foreign policy;
Get out of US wars, like the one in the Red Sea and Yemen;
Get out of the Five Eyes spy alliance;
Close the Waihopai spy base and the GCSB, the NZ agency which runs it;
Kick out Rocket Lab, NZ’s newest American military base;
Stop the process of getting entangled with NATO; and
Stay out of AUKUS, which is simply building an alliance to fight a war with China.
I never thought I’d find myself on the same side of an issue as Don Brash and Richard Prebble but even they have strongly opposed AUKUS.
Zionism is the enemy of the Palestinian people.
US imperialism is the enemy of the Palestinian people and the New Zealand people.
Murray Horton is secretary/organiser of the Anti-Bases Campaign (ABC) and gave this speech last Saturday to a Palestinian solidarity rally at the Bridge of Remembrance, Christchurch.
