Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Jen Purdie, Senior Research Fellow, Centre for Sustainability, University of Otago

As the escalating US-Israel war on Iran drives a global fuel supply crisis, New Zealand is eyeing two major – and very different – projects aimed at bolstering its long-term energy security.

While one risks deepening the country’s reliance on the very fossil fuel systems now in turmoil, the other offers a more sustainable alternative.

In February, the government announced plans to develop a liquid natural gas (LNG) import terminal, likely in Taranaki, under its fast-track process.

This would replace New Zealand’s dwindling natural gas supplies, act as a backstop for dry-year electricity shortages and help stabilise power prices.

But it has now been reported that ministers may now be reconsidering the project, as surging global gas prices due to the Middle East conflict undermine its economic case.

Meanwhile, the government last week referred another major energy project to its fast-track consenting panel: a pumped hydro scheme at Central Otago’s Lake Onslow.

Once a government-led initiative, the project is now being steered by a private consortium chaired by former Meridian Energy chief executive and Transpower chairperson Keith Turner.

It would store excess water in a high storage lake when it is plentiful and release it to generate electricity when the hydro lakes are dry, acting as a “battery” to shore up intermittent renewable electricity.

As New Zealand seeks to establish a resilient energy system for the decades ahead, while meeting its climate change commitments, the contrast between these two schemes is hard to ignore.

The follies of fossil fuels

The latest oil shock is forcing countries to confront the fragility of global fuel supply chains – and the risks of relying on them.

Building renewable energy is increasingly being viewed as a path to energy independence. After Russia’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine disrupted gas supplies, Europe accelerated its shift away from imported gas, and the current rising global fuel costs are rapidly increasing the uptake of electric vehicles.

At the same time, the urgency of cutting fossil fuel use has become existentially important, as rising global temperatures drive more frequent storms, floods, wildfires and sea-level rise.

Only 4% of New Zealand’s emissions come from its largely renewable electricity system, while 34% come from transport and industrial heat. Electrifying these sectors would cut both emissions and reliance on imported fuels, helping align with the Paris Agreement’s goal of limiting global warming to 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels.

But electrification will increase demand for renewable electricity. And because wind and solar are variable, the system still needs backup when renewable generation is too low.

Two projects, two paths

Under the government’s terminal proposal, LNG would be imported to shore up dwindling gas supplies, with domestic production having declined over the past decade.

But the proposal cuts against both climate and cost goals. Although gas is meant to produce lower emissions than coal, transporting it around the world can result in higher total greenhouse gas emissions than coal, while leaving New Zealand exposed to volatile international markets.

That concern was echoed in a government-commissioned report by Frontier Economics, which found LNG imports for dry-year risk made “no economic sense”.

LNG is a costly way to generate electricity: around NZ$200–$250 per megawatt-hour (MWh) of power produced, without the cost of the terminal. By comparison, the fully loaded cost of domestic gas-fired power is roughly $125/MWh.

The terminal itself is expected to cost more than $1 billion, with those costs likely passed on to consumers through a levy. Subsidising the terminal risks undermining the commercial viability of cheaper renewable options.

In addition to this, opening an expensive LNG “portal” could incentivise new gas-reliant industries, locking in demand for this imported fossil fuel for decades.

By contrast, pumped hydro is a renewable alternative for shoring up intermittent electricity supply.

In a very dry winter, New Zealand can be short of around 5 terawatt-hours (TWh) of water for electricity generation – or about 12% of total annual demand.

The proposed Lake Onslow project is also not without its drawbacks. One is that it would raise the existing lake by around 20 to 50 metres.

This would have impacts on wetlands and native fish species, and environmental groups have noted the trade-off between local environmental effects and the wider climate benefits.

Bridging the gap

The Onslow scheme will take at least four years to build. But in the meantime, New Zealand has other firming options available to help bridge the gap.

Geothermal generation could be maximised, the Huntly power station can run on wood pellets, and coal and diesel generation could be retained as temporary backup during dry or high demand periods.

The main hydro lakes could also be given slightly more range, and electrified coal boilers could be retained for occasional use.

Demand response – where electricity use is reduced or shifted at peak times – is already being used in New Zealand. But this could be expanded, with large industries cutting output or households reducing demand, such as turning off hot water heating during the brief evening peaks.

Access to vehicle-to-grid battery systems could also be accelerated with government support.

If the crises facing our climate and fuel supplies point to a single message, it’s that energy resilience lies in reducing dependence on imported fossil fuels.

New Zealand has an opportunity to do so by incentivising electrification, facilitating temporary electricity firming, halting plans for the LNG terminal and pushing ahead with the Lake Onslow proposal.

– ref. LNG vs pumped hydro: will NZ choose to import risk or build cleaner resilience? – https://theconversation.com/lng-vs-pumped-hydro-will-nz-choose-to-import-risk-or-build-cleaner-resilience-279552

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Thalia Anthony, Professor of Law, University of Technology Sydney

There are unprecedented numbers of First Nations people in prisons. In Australia, 37% of adults and 60% of young people aged 10-17 behind bars are First Nations, despite making up 3.4% and 6.2% of the Australian population respectively.

But what happens to people when they return to the community? There were 19,898 people released from Australian prisons between October and December 2025. More than half of them will return to prison, most within two years.

In 2025, 60% of people in prison had been previously imprisoned. For First Nations people, the figure is 78%.

These statistics demonstrate that prisons are not living up to their ideals of rehabilitation and reintegration, especially in relation to First Nations people. In fact, prisons are highly criminogenic – that is, making prisoners very likely to be reimprisoned.

Under the Closing The Gap targets, each state and territory must have appropriate support and rehabilitation programs in place to help former detainees once they are back in the community and reduce reoffending.

But a recent audit programs in New South Wales found they had “little to no impact” on First Nations reoffending rates. It identified that the few initiatives on offer amounted to “business as usual” and didn’t address systemic and structural issues in prisons that undermined these programs.

But the evidence shows there are programs making a meaningful difference. Here’s what we should do instead.

Driving a widening gap

Despite each jurisdiction’s commitments under Closing The Gap, the situation is getting worse.

Target 10 and Target 11 seek to reduce the rate of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander adults held in incarceration by at least 15% and children by 30% by 2031.

Yet, governments’ “tough on crime” policies, investment in law enforcement and prisons, and relative lack of funding for housing, mental health and alcohol and other drug services as well as cultural programs, have widened the gap.

Read more: ‘Tough on crime’ policies are causing Indigenous people to die in custody

According to the most recent review in 2022 Target 10 was assessed as “not on track” for adults and “on track” for young people.

Subsequent punitive laws for young people, especially in relation to bail and sentencing, will likely detract from any gains made.

Failing to reduce reoffending

The NSW auditor-general recently reviewed the effectiveness of NSW Closing The Gap justice strategies.

It found the programs run by Corrective Services NSW and Youth Justice NSW were ad hoc and lacked shared decision-making with First Nations people. They also didn’t have a healing framework or a therapeutic model of care, as required by Closing The Gap.

There was also no governance or evaluation frameworks and no transparency in relation to funding commitments.

Not only did the auditor-general find programs were failing to reduce reoffending, but prison time was driving more recidivism.

Of the First Nations people incarcerated in NSW, 62% of adults and 73% of young people reoffended within 12 months.

These findings are consistent with other state and territory Closing The Gap failures in relation to reducing First Nations mass imprisonment.

So, what works?

Evaluations of First Nations prison programs across Australia rarely measure effect on recidivism.

An exception is The Torch in Victoria. It’s a First Nations-led organisation that has delivered Indigenous arts programs in prisons and the broader community since 2011.

It supports First Nations people’s creative skills and connection to culture and earning an income through artwork, with 100% of the art sale price going to the First Nations person.

Participants in the program in 2017-18 had a reimprisonment rate of 11%. This was much lower than the state average recidivism rate of 53.4% for First Nations people.

The Torch is effective because it provides ongoing support in and out of prison, opportunities for First Nations people to connect to culture and ways to make an income. Its First Nations leadership means the program is sensitive to the needs of community and accountable for delivering outcomes for its people.

Beyond recidivism

There are risks in attributing reoffending or not reoffending to specific programs alone. If initiatives don’t field the results desired, policymakers may adopt a “nothing works” mentality. This can make funding too short-term, especially when First Nations programs are under disproportionate scrutiny.

Programs such as Dreaming Inside in Junee prison (NSW) and Listening to Country in Brisbane Women’s prison (Queensland) are run without the administration of corrections staff.

Dreaming Inside comprises creative writing and reading workshops run by respected Wadi Wadi Elder Barbara Nicholson (Aunty Barb with First Nations men). The workshops had a positive impact on the men’s self-esteem, cultural engagement and strengthening cultural identity, according to an evaluation.

Listening to Country is an art-based program that explores acoustic ecology, soundscape and deep listening to culture and Country. The evaluation found it enhanced participants’ wellbeing and enabled connection to culture, which are protective factors against reoffending.

While these evaluations did not assess reoffending because it could not exclude variables affecting re-criminalisation, including the role of policing and adverse conditions in the community, they identified the important role of First Nations-led cultural programs in strengthening and healing First Nations people in prison.

Encouraging First Nations leadership

First Nations people in prisons have distinct needs compared to non-First Nations people. Programs need to be culturally safe and tailored to experiences of trauma, racism and socioeconomic inequality.

Apparent in the NSW auditor-general’s findings is that there are very few First Nations programs. Only three operate across four of the 39 prisons in NSW, Australia’s most populous state. Of those operating, they are not run by or co-designed with First Nations people or organisations.

Imposing requirements to reduce recidivism can place an undue burden on fledgling programs, which can preclude First Nations self-determination over design and outcomes.

It also deflects attention from the contribution of prisons to First Nations reoffending rates, including due to inequitable access to programs, treatment and work.

– ref. First Nations rehabilitation programs aren’t keeping people out of prison. Here’s what would help – https://theconversation.com/first-nations-rehabilitation-programs-arent-keeping-people-out-of-prison-heres-what-would-help-278783

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Clare Corbould, Associate Professor of History and Associate Head (Research) of the School of Humanities and Social Sciences, Deakin University

American comedian Druski has gone viral with a short parody video titled “How Conservative Women in America Act”.

In it, Druski plays a character whose costumes, make-up and activities all resemble those of right-wing activist Erika Kirk, widow of former Turning Point CEO Charlie Kirk – whose role she has taken up.

Conservatives are up in arms, predictably. Many are calling it racism or reverse racism. Imagine, they declare, how fast a white man would be cancelled if he were to don blackface to send up the activities of an African American widow.

But this backlash misses the point. Blackface and whiteface are not opposite and equal.

Blackface punches down. Whiteface can’t

Whiteface draws attention to the privileges and protections that whiteness allows.

It uses exaggeration – in this case the ordering of not just coffee, but a “sweet cream foam chai ice matcha” with an “organic pup cup” for the fluffy pet – to draw attention to how gaudy and obviously performative the elite white class can be.

The joke in whiteface comedy is not “this person is white”, but “this person is protected, entitled and used to being in control”.

That privilege can even extend to white people who aren’t especially wealthy, as Druski has explored in other whiteface videos. In “Guy who is just proud to be an American”, the comedian portrays a stereotypical, ultra-patriotic NASCAR fan, whose racist and misogynistic remarks are egged on by his white peers.

Druski shows how his character’s feelings of superiority come from a very deliberate set of conditions and environments that produce his whiteness.

Key to the distinction between whiteface and blackface is simply the relative power of the groups being parodied.

Blackface minstrelsy emerged in the United States in the 1830s – just as slavery began to disappear – as a mass entertainment form that degraded Black people. White performers used burnt cork on their faces, and painted on enlarged red lips and white eyes, to create offensive caricatures.

Most white people embraced the new stereotypes, wanting to maintain a cheap labour force and cling to the feeling of superiority they gave them.

Blackface soon became the most popular form of entertainment all over the English-speaking world, including in Australia, New Zealand and Britain. It remained a mainstay of popular culture in movies, on television and even on radio, as late as the 1970s.

Whiteface, by contrast, is a prime example of what anthropologist James Scott called “weapons of the weak” – an idea taken up by historians of African American labour and social life, such as Robin D. G. Kelley in his work Race Rebels.

Rather than just reversing blackface, whiteface aims to expose whiteness as a social and historical performance with material consequences. In doing so, it calls into question any sense that racial inequality is natural.

Whiteface emerged before blackface

This method of undermining white people’s authority goes all the way back to slavery in colonial North America. For example, in 1772, in the city of Charleston, South Carolina, a group of about 60 enslaved Black people gathered for a party.

Thinking themselves in private, they mocked their white owners in an elongated performance including dress, speech and dance.

Annual one-day festivals or parades, which took place from the 1740s up until the Civil War provided similar opportunities for enslaved people in North America to come together for rare celebrations. Participants performed rituals – such as electing a Black person to be king or governor for a day – that demonstrated a deep understanding of white society.

Some white onlookers regarded these performances as merely poor imitations. Many, however, were unsettled when they saw that the people they had enslaved understood white society all too well.

Discomfort is the point

White onlookers of African American comedy have likewise been made uncomfortable, since at least Richard Pryor’s stand-up shows of the 1970s. Nobody who ever saw Pryor send up white people’s walking, eating, cussing, or indeed their ideas about race and safety, can ever forget them.

Pryor’s collaborator Paul Mooney, also a Black comedian, once said:

My job is to make white people mad. They have to learn how to laugh at themselves.

A more recent example comes from actor Maya Rudolph, who impersonated Donatella Versace in a series of early 2000s TV skits. Whiteface enabled her to exaggerate the signs of elite whiteness by portraying a camp, hyper-mediated version of European white femininity. In this context, whiteness becomes costume drama.

Exposing white fragility and grievance

This is the tradition Druski belongs in. His over-the-top portrayal of affluent and conservative white women compels viewers to notice the artifice of the performance.

His target is not women in general, but a rich, entitled figure who turns privilege into threatened innocence and then demands protection from racialised “dangers” she and other people like her have largely invented.

The complaint about “racism” draws a false equivalence between Druski’s satire and centuries of anti-Black racism. It also aims to distract from white women’s electoral power, including their majority allegiance to the Republican Party.

What the complaint really shows, as Paul Mooney might have said, is that too many white people are still refusing to laugh at themselves.

– ref. Druski’s viral whiteface skit isn’t racism. It’s satire that punches up at power – https://theconversation.com/druskis-viral-whiteface-skit-isnt-racism-its-satire-that-punches-up-at-power-279460

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Lisa M. Given, Professor of Information Sciences & Director, Social Change Enabling Impact Platform, RMIT University

Nearly four months into Australia’s social media ban for under-16s, the online regulator today released its first detailed compliance update report on how the world-first policy is progressing.

eSafety’s report comes at a crucial time, with many other countries eyeing the progress of the ban. Since the ban took effect on December 10 last year, I have spoken with journalists from Canada, France, Germany, Japan, New Zealand, the United Kingdom and elsewhere. Everyone asks two questions: how successful is the ban, and are children still accessing social media platforms?

The new report paints a complicated picture – and leaves other key questions about the social media ban unanswered.

A number of compliance concerns

The report acknowledges social media companies have taken “some steps” to comply with the social media legislation (which restricts account holders to those aged 16 and older). Some 4.7 million accounts were removed by mid-January and another 310,000 by early March.

However, the report also highlights “compliance concerns” in four key areas:

1. Messaging to under-16s on some platforms encouraged children to attempt age assurance even where they declared themselves to be underage

2. Some platforms enabled under-16s to repeatedly attempt the same age-assurance method to ultimately pass age checks

3. Pathways for reporting age-restricted accounts have generally not been accessible and effective, particularly for parents

4. Some platforms appear not to have done enough to prevent under-16s having accounts.

The report explains the eSafety Commissioner, Julie Inman Grant, is now investigating Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, TikTok and YouTube for “potential non-compliance”. None of these companies has yet been fined. A decision about any enforcement action will be made by the middle of the year.

The report comes a week after the Australian government registered a new legislative rule to ensure the definition of social media platforms includes those “that have addictive or otherwise harmful design features”. These include:

• infinite scroll, which shows new content with no end point
• feedback features, such as displaying “likes” or “upvotes”, which can pressure people to compare themselves to others, and
• time-limited features such as disappearing “stories” that create a sense of urgency and encourage constant checking.

This rule change was implemented in the same week Meta and Google (parent companies of Instagram and YouTube) were found liable by a jury in the United States for the addictive features of their social media platforms.

A ‘constantly evolving’ landscape

The removal of more than 5 million accounts in four months sounds impressive. But this does not equal the number of social media users.

Many people hold several social media accounts. So it remains unclear how many children under 16 still remain on one or more platforms. The report also doesn’t detail how many new accounts children created since the legislation was implemented.

The report also does not estimate the number of under-16s who now use alternative platforms. However, there have been reports of a significant spike in downloads of non-mainstream platforms (such as RedNote, Yope and Lemon8) since December.

The report acknowledges the social media landscape is “constantly evolving” and that it’s impossible to maintain a complete list of platforms that fall under the age restrictions. However, eSafety does maintain a list of the initial platforms included under the ban legislation, and those that have self-identified and agreed to comply. These include Bluesky, dating platforms (such as Tinder) and Lemon8, but other platforms remain accessible to under-16s.

Since December, there have also been questions about whether Australia’s ban should extend to other platforms.

Reports point to the legislation’s “loophole” for gaming apps and exclusions for messaging apps such as WhatsApp and Messenger, as well as other platforms that include social networking features.

Roblox, which was initially considered under the ban and then exempted, has also made headlines related to child safety.

It is currently being reviewed by the government over concerns about child grooming.

Unanswered questions

As eSafety continues to investigate issues related to compliance with the legislation, several key questions remain unanswered.

One is to do with the “reasonable steps” social media companies must take to comply with social media age restrictions. The report says this is “ultimately a question for the courts to determine”. It also explains that defining what steps are reasonable must be considered “in the context of the platform’s service, technological feasibility, and the regulatory landscape”.

But if a company uses age-assurance technologies, whose inbuilt error rates allow some children to slip through the checks, will that company be considered to have taken reasonable steps to control account access?

A second question is whether eSafety will extend its compliance checks beyond the five mainstream platforms currently being investigated.

As new platforms are launched, and as children continue to seek new ways to connect with peers online, the potential spaces where they can encounter harm continues to grow. Is self-assessment by technology companies sufficient to enforce legislation intended to apply to all platforms that meet the definition of an age-restricted platform?

Finally, will the government continue to add new rules to keep kids safe?

One key limitation experts like me have highlighted since 2024 is that restricting access to accounts does not address the actual harms posed by content, algorithms and other platform features.

The government has completed consultation on its digital duty of care legislation. But it is still unclear when this legislation will be introduced.

The new report on social media restrictions shows there is a long road ahead for compliance. And if we want to fully address the harms posed by these platforms, new legislation that actually targets the root problems is needed.

– ref. Social media giants are not complying with under-16s social media ban, new report finds – https://theconversation.com/social-media-giants-are-not-complying-with-under-16s-social-media-ban-new-report-finds-279555

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Shannon Bosch, Associate Professor (Law), Edith Cowan University

Israel’s parliament, the Knesset, this week passed legislation that would vastly expand capital punishment in Israel and in the occupied Palestinian territories.

The changes, made via an amendment to Israel’s penal law, allow for executions without proper appeal, pardons or meaningful judicial discretion.

According to media reports, 62 of 120 Knesset members voted in favour of the bill on Monday, including Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, and 48 voted against. The remainder absented themselves from the vote or abstained.

UN experts and Amnesty International have warned these new death sentencing rules would apply almost exclusively to Palestinians.

It would, they argue, entrench discrimination already identified by the International Court of Justice as amounting to apartheid. UN experts said of the bill:

Since Israeli military trials of civilians typically do not meet fair trial standards under international human rights law and humanitarian law, any resulting death sentence would further violate the right to life […] Denial of a fair trial is also a war crime.

This development is a significant change for Israel, which has not executed anyone for more than 60 years. It reverses decades of global movement towards abolition, while normalising executions in an occupied territory.

Death penalty as the default

These changes were made via legislation brought by National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir and his far-right Otzma Yehudit party.

The Penal Bill (Amendment ― Death Penalty for Terrorists) amends both Israeli civil law (applicable to Israeli settlers) and Israeli military law (applicable to Palestinians) in the occupied West Bank.

The law states, according to a Deutsche Welle media report:

Palestinians in the occupied West Bank convicted of terrorism in military courts will face a mandatory death sentence or, in the wording of the bill “his sentence shall be death, and this penalty only.” Only if the court determines that there are “special reasons” can it then commute the death sentence to life in prison.

Under this change:

• prosecutors do not need to request the death penalty
• the defence minister may submit an opinion to the judicial panel of three military officials who only need a simple majority to impose the death penalty
• judges need to record exceptional reasons for imposing a life sentence over the death penalty
• avenues for appeal would be tightly restricted
• there would be no possibility of a pardon
• people sentenced to death would be detained in isolated facilities that would have restricted visitor access, with legal counsel only by video link
• executions (by hanging) would take place within 90 days of the final judgement.

Another yet-to-be-passed bill that may still be brought before the Knesset – the Prosecution of Participants in the October 7 Massacre Events Bill – would also see more death sentences handed down.

It establishes ad hoc military tribunals with retrospective jurisdiction to prosecute those accused of participating in the October 7 2023 Hamas-led attacks on southern Israel.

These tribunals would:

• consist of a retired district court judge and two officers qualified to serve as judges
• be authorised to depart from ordinary rules around evidence and procedure
• be able to impose the death penalty via a simple majority, without prosecutors requesting it.

Appeals and clemency mechanisms would again be extremely limited.

Taken together, the two amendments significantly expand the scope of capital punishment in Israel. They also remove many procedural safeguards.

Supporters argue capital punishment could deter future attacks and preclude hostage-taking for prisoner exchanges.

Yet, historically, Israel’s intelligence services have opposed death sentences. They have argued it may encourage armed groups to kidnap Israelis as bargaining chips to prevent executions.

International humanitarian law

Critics have argued the new changes place Israel in breach of international humanitarian law and international human rights law.

As critics point out, Israel’s new death penalty rules limit access to legal counsel. They also:

• restrict appeals
• allows trials before ad hoc military tribunals for new capital offences
• mandate executions be carried out within 90 days.

This all runs counter to international humanitarian law.

Significant legal concerns are raised by Israel enforcing new capital offences in the occupied territory after the International Court of Justice concluded Israel’s occupation violates international law and must cease.

These concerns are compounded by longstanding criticisms of Israeli military courts in the occupied West Bank, where conviction rates for Palestinian defendants reportedly exceed 99%.

International human rights law

Under international human rights law people should be guaranteed equality before the law and protected from discrimination.

But the changes passed by the Knesset this week subject Palestinians to death sentences as the default, while Israeli citizens accused of killing Palestinians would appear before civil courts. Here, capital punishment would be discretionary and far more limited. This entrenches a discriminatory system.

Critics argue this amounts to collective punishment against Palestinians, which is prohibited under the Geneva Convention.

The European Union has warned that executions through hanging would also violate the absolute prohibition on cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment.

Taken together, the two new amendments normalise state-sanctioned executions and violate Israel’s obligations under international law.

– ref. New Israeli law could mean death penalty by default for Palestinians convicted of deadly attacks – https://theconversation.com/new-israeli-law-could-mean-death-penalty-by-default-for-palestinians-convicted-of-deadly-attacks-279458

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Austin Haynes, PhD Candidate, School of Arts and Media, Te Herenga Waka — Victoria University of Wellington

Hollywood science fiction blockbuster Project Hail Mary, starring Ryan Gosling, opened to generally positive reviews and strong box office receipts, but in Aotearoa New Zealand it made news for another reason.

Local audiences were surprised, and seemingly delighted, by the movie’s soundtrack featuring a song in te reo Māori, alongside tracks by the Beatles and Harry Styles.

The waiata (song) in question is a version of Pō Atarau, sung by the Turakina Māori Girls Choir, a bittersweet song of farewell. In a film about a human and an alien learning each other’s language and coming to care for each other, it is also remarkably fitting.

Known and loved by many, Pō Atarau first appeared in the mid-1910s when Māori words were added to the tune of a popular piano piece known as the Swiss Cradle Song composed by Australian Clement Scott.

The waiata circulated within Aotearoa as Pō Atarau or Haere Rā and was often included in cultural performances for tourists. Visiting Rotorua in the 1940s, British actress and singer Gracie Fields heard the song sung at the home of tourist guide Rangitīaria Dennan.

It soon shot to worldwide fame, performed in English as The Māori Farewell or Now is the Hour, recorded by various artists including Fields, Bing Crosby and Vera Lynn. But despite the song’s extraordinary popularity, most people know little about the woman credited with its lyrics and adapted tune, Erima Maewa Kaihau (1879–1941).

In her day, Kaihau was a well-known composer and singer. She was one of the first Māori composers to have her songs published and to gain wide recognition in the Pākehā (European) world.

But she was also a woman with considerable political mana (authority). A kind of cultural “broker”, she used her music and voice to foster understanding between Māori and Pākehā.

My research involves reconstructing Kaihau’s story and music. As an opera singer, I have sung her songs many times. And as a poet and translator working in te reo Māori, I return often to her hauntingly evocative words.

Being a Pākehā New Zealander, Kaihau also offers me an example of how song and literature can be used to foster connections between the Māori and Pākehā worlds in general.

But she has been strangely overlooked despite her talent and significance. I have discovered forgotten manuscripts and unpublished songs by Kaihau that have lain unnoticed or miscatalogued in archives across the country.

By piecing her story back together, I want to show what her music and life can tell us about how wāhine Māori used waiata as tools of diplomacy – to express their own mana, and to build relationships between peoples.

Between worlds

For those who take the time to listen to her, Kaihau offers a vision of what it means to live with and to love one another on these islands we call home.

Born in 1879 with the name Louisa Flavell, she grew up in Whangaroa in Northland. Part of a prominent Pākehā-Māori family, she belonged to the Ngāpuhi iwi (tribe) in the north and to the Ngāti Te Ata iwi around Waiuku near Auckland.

She traced her descent from prominent ancestors from both tribes, including her great-grandfather Ururoa, a rangatira who signed the 1835 Māori Declaration of Independence.

As a teenager, Maewa (the name she most often chose to be known by) and her family moved from Northland to live with relatives in Waiuku, where they discovered most of their ancestral land had been confiscated. Like neighbouring Waikato, this was a Māori community still reeling from the Crown’s invasion and land confiscations in the 1860s.

She later married Hēnare Kaihau, a politician and rangatira of Ngāti Te Ata who was chief advisor to the Māori King Mahuta. She attended political hui (meetings) alongside her husband and occasionally on her own – always impeccably dressed, and often one of the only wāhine (women) present.

We don’t know when Kaihau started composing, but her earliest published songs were printed in 1918. Many of her songs focused on unhappy lovers, but she also composed and published a number of songs of welcome and farewell used when foreign dignitaries visited Aotearoa.

In 1926, she even performed her songs for famed Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova, who was performing in New Zealand at the time. In 1927 she welcomed the Duke and Duchess of York with her song The Huia. In 1930, she farewelled and welcomed the wives of successive governors-general with her own compositions.

Kaihau’s work as a cultural guide flowed in both directions. In 1900, for example, she took King Mahuta (who spoke almost no English) to watch a performance of Gilbert and Sullivan’s operetta The Gondoliers – one can only imagine what he made of it.

Waiata diplomacy

Kaihau’s songs work as a kind of musical diplomacy. As a wahine Māori, to perform them allowed her to assert her right as tangata whenua to undertake the work of welcoming and farewelling.

Several of her published songs feature cover illustrations of Māori women waving off European-style ships.

Kaihau’s waiata also offer a vision of bicultural cooperation. Her lyrics draw freely from the poetic conventions of both Māori and European literatures. Her songs about unhappy lovers evoke the pre-European genre of waiata aroha as much as they echo English parlour songs of the day.

It is this quality of Kaihau’s music that Ngāi Tahu author Becky Manawatu noted when she referenced Akoako o te Rangi in her 2019 novel Auē. Manawatu has described the song as “strange and beautiful” and admitted she originally assumed it was composed by a Pākehā due to its peculiar style.

I think Kaihau’s rich and unique songs, which paint with both Pākehā and Māori palettes, are a key to her role as a diplomat for Māoridom.

They speak of the ties that bind, and the affection expressed at parting, in ways that weave together Pākehā and Māori emotional vocabularies, creating something new.

What might Erima Maewa Kaihau have made of her famous waiata featuring in a sci-fi epic about alien contact? Given her efforts to create a musical language that speaks across worlds and languages, I imagine she would be pleased.

– ref. Her song features in Ryan Gosling’s hit movie, but Erima Maewa Kaihau was once a star too – https://theconversation.com/her-song-features-in-ryan-goslings-hit-movie-but-erima-maewa-kaihau-was-once-a-star-too-279326

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Richard Fuller, Professor in Biodiversity and Conservation, The University of Queensland

The two of us can often be found in a patch of scrubby bushland, phone in hand, slowly scanning for plants. Or crouched behind a tree trunk with binoculars, pausing mid-breath to find the source of a bird call. It often feels like a treasure hunt. What will turn up today? And how can we share those observations with the world?

Activities such as these are part of citizen science, where volunteers record observations of the natural world and share them with others.

Science lives far beyond the lab, and it’s not just done by scientists.

In this series, we spotlight the world of citizen science – its benefits, discoveries and how you can participate.

We are both professional ecologists, but our most joyful moments with nature often begin with a simple act: stepping outside and paying attention to it. And our research suggests these experiences may do more than support science. They may also benefit our mental health.

Some days it’s a common species we’ve seen a hundred times before. Other days it’s something unexpected that brings a surge of excitement.

Being outside like this can feel freeing. You focus on the present, move your body and think about where to place your feet, without worrying about your email inbox or endless other demands on your attention. You begin noticing small details you might usually rush past.

That sense of curiosity, connection and shared purpose is something many people recognise when they take part in citizen science.

Supporting mental wellbeing

Citizen science projects invite people to collect data about the natural world.

Platforms such as eBird, iNaturalist, FrogID and Redmap allow anyone armed with curiosity and a smartphone to record wildlife observations and contribute to scientific research. Millions of people around the world now take part in these kinds of projects.

In a recent study of citizen science participants, we examined how taking part in wildlife monitoring projects affects people’s mental wellbeing.

Participants consistently described feeling better after taking part. One volunteer told us:

I come home tired, but it’s a good tired. My head feels clearer, like I’ve pressed reset.

Another explained that learning to identify species changed how they experienced everyday walks:

I don’t just see “green” anymore. Now I notice the differences between plants, their ecological value and the pressures they face.

Part of the explanation is simple: spending time in nature is already known to reduce stress, improve mood and support mental wellbeing.

But citizen science goes a step further.

Rather than simply visiting a park, people actively engage with the environment. They observe closely, record what they see and contribute to something larger than themselves. This sense of purpose can deepen the benefits of being outside.

Citizen science is also inherently social. Many projects bring people together to collect data, share observations or learn from others. These interactions can help reduce social isolation, which is a major risk factor for poor mental health.

For some participants, particularly older adults, citizen science can also be empowering. It provides opportunities to use existing skills, learn new ones and feel that their contributions matter.

Taken together, elements of nature exposure, physical activity, learning and social connection create a powerful mix that supports wellbeing.

How you participate matters

Not all citizen science experiences are the same, and this may influence their health benefits.

In a 2025 study we explored this using a concept borrowed from public health called dose-response – how much participation is needed to produce benefits?

Three ingredients appear particularly important: frequency (how often someone takes part), duration (how long activities last) and intensity, which can include the richness of the environment, the diversity of species encountered or the depth of interaction between participants.

Short, one-off activities can still boost mood and encourage movement. But regular participation is more likely to produce longer-lasting benefits. Like exercise, small amounts done often may be better than one big effort followed by long gaps.

Citizen science can also bring physical health benefits. Many projects involve walking, bending, standing or light hiking. These activities support mobility and cardiovascular health.

For communities at risk of social isolation or physical inactivity, these benefits may be profoundly valuable.

How can citizen science do even more?

Despite this potential, most citizen science projects are not designed with health outcomes in mind. That means opportunities are being missed.

A 2025 study suggests even short nature-based citizen science activities can quickly improve mood and reduce stress.

Longer-term mental health conditions are influenced by many factors and usually require sustained support. Citizen science will not replace medical care. But it can help strengthen the foundations of wellbeing: positive emotions, physical activity, social connection and a sense of purpose.

At a population level, these building blocks matter. They build our ability to cope with challenges and recover from stress.

To maximise these benefits, citizen science projects must be inclusive. People who already feel connected to nature are more likely to take part.

But this is also the group that tends to report better mental and physical health, meaning participation can unintentionally reinforce existing health inequalities.

Field-based projects may unintentionally exclude people with mobility challenges, limited time or poor access to green space. Yet many of these individuals could contribute meaningfully if projects were designed with accessibility in mind.

Recognising citizen science not only as a research tool, but also as a way to support public health opens new opportunities.

When designed thoughtfully, citizen science can benefit both biodiversity and people. And for participants, it offers something simple but powerful: a reason to step outside, pay attention, and reconnect with the living world around them.

– ref. ‘My head feels clearer’: how citizen science can improve people’s health – https://theconversation.com/my-head-feels-clearer-how-citizen-science-can-improve-peoples-health-275426

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Adam Smith, Adjunct Associate Professor in Marine Science, James Cook University

Until recently, the number of citizen scientists in Australia was estimated at between 100,000 and 130,000 people.

But this is a major underestimate. My survey of about 20 key organisations suggests there are likely more than a million in Australia.

There are only a limited number of professional (paid) scientists. But anyone with a smartphone can log observations, and professional scientists increasingly work alongside citizen scientists to collect and analyse valuable conservation data.

Science lives far beyond the lab, and it’s not just done by scientists.

In this series, we spotlight the world of citizen science – its benefits, discoveries and how you can participate.

Citizen science isn’t new. Perhaps the best-known citizen scientist was Charles Darwin, who neglected to finish his medical degree in favour of studying corals. Later, the prolific letter writer built a network of passionate naturalists and collected their observations to gather evidence for his theory of evolution.

But what is new is how easy it is to get involved – and how many people are now lending their time and skills to the cause. It opens up the possibility of science by the people, for the people.

How are citizen scientists contributing?

Melburnians may know the name Ferdinand von Mueller as the first director of the city’s Botanic Gardens. But Mueller started as a passionate botanist who migrated from Germany in 1847, determined to catalogue every plant species in Australia.

After years collecting samples, Mueller realised the task was too big. So he, like Darwin, set about building a network of passionate collectors. Over the next 40 years, more than 1,500 amateur botanists sent him samples. This helped Mueller catalogue hundreds of species new to Western science and produce the first comprehensive surveys of the continent’s vascular plants. Former Chief Scientist Alan Finkel believes Mueller effectively planted citizen science in this country.

Since then, citizen scientists have contributed significantly to science. In 1870, Victorian farmers identified the giant Gippsland earthworm and sent it to professional scientists for confirmation. In 1973, a central Queensland fencing contractor rediscovered the bridled nailtail wallaby (presumed extinct), while a Daintree grazier rediscovered the unique idiot fruit tree – which had not been formally recognised – after its fruit poisoned his cows.

In 1994, bushwalker and amateur botanist David Noble was exploring a remote canyon in the Wollemi National Park west of Sydney when he found the last remaining stand of a tree long thought extinct. The Wollemi pine (Wollemia nobilis) dates back to when dinosaurs roamed Earth.

Even now, passionate citizen scientists are still making new discoveries. In his free time, Jürgen Otto hunts for peacock spiders around Australia. He and his collaborators have named 64 species of the tiny, colourful spiders famed for their courtship displays. This year, Jan Pope and her daughter Sophie Kalkowski-Pope found a huge and unusual coral meadow in the Great Barrier Reef.

So what, exactly, is citizen science?

A good definition is “public participation and collaboration in scientific research with the aim to increase scientific knowledge”.

Key to this are core principles, such as active involvement of citizens in scientific endeavours that generate new knowledge and genuine scientific outcomes.

Earlier generations might have called citizen scientists “amateur naturalists”. The term citizen science became popular for its less binary framing. Some people prefer “community science”.

Another phrase is also gaining momentum. “Indigenous science” has clear overlap with Traditional Ecological Knowledge.

As Jingili man and zoologist Joe Sambono has observed, Indigenous science shouldn’t be set in opposition to Western science, given science is Latin for “to know”:

all groups of humans […] have recognised patterns, verified through repetition, made inferences and predictions and developed branches of knowledge that helped them to make sense of the world around them and their place within it.

Indigenous science is grounded in continuous, trans-generational, place-based observation built over tens of thousands of years. Cultural burning uses weather, fuel and ecological indicators to gently burn Country while supporting biodiversity, while seasonal calendars tied to flowering plants and wildlife movements shaped practical decisions about when to collect bush tucker, travel and care for Country.

In our experience, enduring insights emerge from the overlapping space between Indigenous, citizen and mainstream science.

Getting involved

Citizen science can be as simple as a keen birder posting sightings of a rare orange bellied parrot to eBird or a fisher posting a sighting of a bull shark to iNaturalist where citizen and professional scientists can see it.

But it can also be volunteering to help in large-scale practical projects organised by professional scientists. These include tracking bushfire recovery, reporting weed infestations, monitoring koalas or fishes, assessing microplastic hotspots and tracking water quality.

It took six years (2008–14) for Australian citizen scientists to collectively contribute 10,000 species observations on iNaturalist. Now, more than 10,000 are posted every day.

From a movement of volunteers to a trusted resource

When this flood of data began, some scientists were sceptical. Could it be trusted?

As time has passed, standardised data collection and guidance from professional scientists have built trust in the data.

Citizen science is now recognised for its contributions to health, astronomy, agriculture and – especially – nature conservation. Australia’s Strategy for Nature, Threatened Species Strategy and State of the Environment reports recognise the worth of citizen scientist data.

In an era of misinformation and declining trust in institutions, citizen science offers people a chance to engage directly with evidence and the natural world.

To date, little funding goes towards making the most of what citizen scientists can offer. Nationally, the government will spend A$15 billion on science this fiscal year. Of this, we estimate less than $10 million will go to citizen science.

What could citizen scientists do next?

Much more is possible. The million Australians involved in these projects are active in the world and interested in helping protect nature. These attributes mean they could take a large role in tackling climate change – especially at local and regional scales – by observing changes, working on projects to reduce emissions, and helping communities adapt to climate change.

To paraphrase the famous anthropologist and citizen scientist Margaret Mead: “Never doubt that a small group of citizen (scientists) can change the world – in fact it is the only thing that ever has.”

Stephanie von Gavel and Dr Annie Lane contributed to this article. They are the chair and immediate past chair of the Australian Citizen Science Association.

– ref. There may be 10 times as many citizen scientists in Australia as we thought – and that’s great news for science – https://theconversation.com/there-may-be-10-times-as-many-citizen-scientists-in-australia-as-we-thought-and-thats-great-news-for-science-267870

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Nick Dalton, Associate Professor in the School of Computer Science, Northumbria University, Newcastle

In the early 1970s, the idea of an ordinary person owning a computer sounded absurd. Computers back then were more like aircraft carriers or nuclear power plants than household appliances – vast machines housed in data centres operated by teams of specialists, serving governments, universities and large corporations.

Then came Apple.

Founded on April 1 1976 by “college dropouts” Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak, the Silicon Valley startup did not invent computing. What it did was arguably more important: it helped turn computing into a personal technology.

Before Apple, computers were largely sold in kit form. Jobs saw that people wanted them pre-assembled and ready to run. The earliest Apple I units, featuring handmade koa wooden cases, now sell for hundreds of thousands of dollars.

As an early Apple adopter and app developer, here’s my selection of the company’s (and Jobs’s) most significant technological achievements over the last 50 years.

Apple II – beige yet distinctive

Early personal computers were more curiosities than practical tools. The Apple II, launched in June 1977, introduced something new: style. Even its colour – beige! – was distinctive, contrasting with the black metal boxes common at that time.

The use of colour graphics was both new and exciting, and the keyboard felt satisfying to use. A simple speaker, with only a single-bit output, was ingeniously coaxed into producing tones and even speech-like sounds. The design revolution stretched as far as the packaging: Jerry Manock, Apple’s first in-house designer, placed the machine in a moulded plastic case which looked sleek and professional.

The mouse – a whole new way of interacting

By 1979, the 24-year-old Jobs – sensing that tech giant IBM was catching up with Apple – went looking for the next big thing. The photocopier company Xerox, wanting pre-IPO shares in Apple, offered a visit to its nearby research labs as an inducement. Jobs realised that researchers such as Alan Kay at Xerox’s Palo Alto research centre were creating the next generation of computing interfaces.

Central to this was a device invented by Kay’s mentor, Douglas Engelbart, at Stanford University in the mid-1960s and nicknamed “the mouse”. Engelbart’s vision of computers as machines to augment the human mind inspired Kay and colleagues to create graphical displays in which users interacted with scrollbars, buttons, menus and windows.

Macintosh – dawn of the modern product launch

Jobs thought anyone should be able to use a computer. In January 1984, the first Apple Mac pushed this idea to new extremes. The traditional need for obscure computer commands (and manuals) vanished. Early adopters such as myself felt we just knew how to do everything.

But the Mac’s launch was not just another technological leap for Apple. It also inspired the now-familiar cultural moment of the modern product launch. Following a teasing Super Bowl advert directed by Ridley Scott, Jobs used a 1,500-seat theatre on January 24 to create a stage performance centred on a single charismatic presenter. Jobs let a small, square and still-beige computer (then known as Macintosh) out of its bag – and it began speaking for itself, to rapturous applause.

Pixar – Jobs’s side hustle

In its first decade, Apple grew at an exceptional rate – but it also came close to financial collapse on several occasions. This led to one of the most dramatic moments in Apple’s history when, in May 1985, the company forced Jobs out.

A year later and now in charge of the startup NeXT Inc, Jobs bought a division of George Lucas’s film company which was soon rebranded as Pixar. Its RenderMan software generated images by distributing processing across multiple machines simultaneously.

Pixar, jokingly referred to as Jobs’s “side hustle”, would become one of the world’s most influential (and valuable) animation production companies, having released the first fully computer-animated feature film in Toy Story (1995).

iMac – a meeting of minds

After a failed attempt to develop a new operating system with IBM, Apple eventually bought Jobs’s company NeXT. In September 1997, he returned to Apple as interim CEO with the company “two months from bankruptcy”. The move, though welcomed by many Apple users, terrified some of its employees. Jobs quickly began firing staff and shutting down failed products.

During this restructuring, he visited Apple’s design studio and immediately hit it off with young British designer Jony Ive. Their meeting of minds led to the 1998 candy-coloured translucent iMac. Essentially smaller, cheaper NeXT machines, iMac (the i stood for internet) also kicked off another Apple habit: abandoning ageing technology. The floppy disk drive was ditched in favour of a CD drive – a move heavily criticised at the time, but later widely copied.

iPod – 1,000 songs in your pocket

For Apple, computing was always about more than, well, computing. In 2001, the company began focusing on processing sound and video, not just text and pictures. By November that year, it had released the iPod – a personal music player capable of storing “1,000 songs in your pocket”, compared with a maximum of 20-30 on each cassette tape in a Sony Walkman.

The iPod used an elegant “click wheel” to operate the screen. Music was synced through a new application called iTunes. By 2005, people were using iTunes to manage audio downloaded automatically from the internet using a process called RSS. This in turn put the pod in podcasting.

iPhone – a computer in everyone’s hands

By 2007, many mobile phone companies had approached Apple about merging the iPod with their phones. Instead, on January 9, Jobs unveiled Apple’s most ambitious product yet: a combined phone, music player and Mac computer – all at the size of a handset with no physical keyboard and huge screen.

Most media “experts”, from TechCrunch to the Guardian, predicted the iPhone would bomb. Steve Ballmer, then CEO of Microsoft, mocked the US$500 price tag, saying nobody would buy it. In fact, 1.4 million iPhones were sold by the end of the year – and over 3 billion more since then. This truly put a computer into everyone’s hands – and opened the door to social media as we know it today.

App Store’s software revolution

By mid-2008, the iPhone enabled third-party developers the chance to to create a dizzying range of new applications. At the same time, the App Store – launched on July 10 2008 – addressed one of the most complex problems: how to distribute and commercialise these “apps”. Historically, they were often copied and distributed freely. The App Store changed this, using strong encryption to ensure the copy sold could only be used by that specific user, thus eliminating software piracy.

By establishing the first (eponymous) App Store, Apple changed the way people discover and purchase software. This led to an explosion of apps and a simple but powerful idea: whatever you wanted to do, someone, somewhere, had already built it. Apple captured this shift in a slogan that became part of everyday language: “There’s an app for that”.

Time and again, this extraordinary company has anticipated the value of opening up computing to everyone. Happy birthday, Apple.

– ref. Apple at 50: eight technology leaps that changed our world – https://theconversation.com/apple-at-50-eight-technology-leaps-that-changed-our-world-279541