Perhaps at no point in Australia’s history has the demand for real-time figures been stronger than during the coronavirus crisis.
The Australian Bureau of Statistics has stepped up its efforts to get data fast, to help inform the government’s COVID-19 decision-making.
David Gruen, the Australian Statistician and ABS head, in this podcast tells how the bureau has used small, quick surveys to mine timely data from businesses and households.
Some of the more interesting findings concern household stresses felt during the crisis.
Some 28% of women reported feeling lonely, compared to 16% of men. “Overall, only about a fifth of people said they were lonely, but that was the most common of the stressors,” Gruen says.
ABS survey results also showed 75% of parents kept their children home from school. “Women were almost three times as likely to have stayed at home to take care of their children on their own, than men.”
“About 15% of parents said that a lack of access to a stable internet connection was impeding their children’s ability to undertake schooling from home,” Gruen says.
In the wake of the roll out of the single touch payroll system last year, the ABS has also had instant access to almost all business and tax data. “[Single Touch Payroll] is a huge addition to the statistical arsenal,” Gruen says.
In the next census of the Australian population, to be held in August 2021, there will be two new fields of questions – on chronic health conditions and veterans.
But the census will no longer ask Australians whether they use the internet.
“There’s huge public value in having an accurate census, because you collect an enormous amount of information which is of value both to government decision makers, and to decision makers in the community,” Gruen says.
“The things that you learn from the census form the basis for an awful lot of decision-making in subsequent years.”
If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.
This quote, or part of it, has been circulating on social media this week.
It is attributed to South African Anglican bishop Desmond Tutu in the 1984 book Unexpected News: Reading the Bible with Third World Eyes. So it dates from Tutu’s time as a leading opponent of the apartheid system in South Africa, in which only white people were afforded the full rights of citizens.
But in recent days Tutu’s quote has encapsulated many people’s feelings about what’s going on in the United States today.
The killing by Minnesota police of George Floyd, arrested on suspicion of passing a counterfeit $20 bill, has become the latest ignition point for grievances about the systemic overpolicing and extrajudicial killing of African Americans.
But the protests involving millions of people across the US and outside of it are fuelled by more than that. These protests are also about the systemic inequities that have recently seen America’s poorest communities take the brunt of both health and economic impacts of the COVID-19 pandemic.
So given the Black Lives Matter protests are in part about the failings of American capitalism, how the corporate world is responding is worth talking about.
Brands supporting Black Lives Matter
A bevy of the world’s best-known brands have used their marketing channels to offer support.
“To be silent is to be complicit. Black lives matter,” said Netflix on Twitter. “We have a platform, and we have a duty to our Black members, employees, creators and talent to speak up.”
Similar tweets have come from Disney-owned Fox and Hulu. Apple Music joined the “Black Out Tuesday” campaign to raise awareness about issues of systemic ethnic inequity.
Nike has repurposed its famous slogan with its “For once, Don’t Do It” advert:
Corporations taking a stand on social issues is a relatively new phenomenon.
Normally when there’s something this divisive and controversial, you know, if you are running a big company, you stay out of it. You don’t want to be involved.
What I’m interested in here is, is this just an evolution in marketing and the way that companies do this, or does it signal – is it a kind of leadership?
Even if these companies are just protecting their commercial base (as his co-host Steve Price suggested), Aly said: “That’s still significant.”
As a researcher in the field of corporate social responsibility, I agree.
It’s easy to dismiss these statements as low-cost tokenism or politically correct wokism. It may be there’s a hard-headed business decision behind each message, weighing the costs and benefits to the bottom line.
But my research (and that of others) suggests there’s a growing need for what business academics call “political corporate social responsibility” (or PCSR).
The challenge for those embracing it is both talk the talk and walk the walk.
Political corporate social responsibility
The concept of PCSR arises out of a wider paradigm shift in thinking about the responsibilities private businesses owe society.
A traditional view – famously advocated by Nobel prize winning US economist Milton Friedman – is that a business, so long as it obeys the law, is only obliged to maximise profits for it shareholders. Nothing else.
Since the 1950s, however, a growing movement (both within business and without) has championed the cause of corporate social responsibility (CSR), arguing that it’s good business to do more than what is legally required to improve social and environmental impacts.
Political CSR (PCSR) goes one step further than the narrower focus of CSR on how companies engage with suppliers, customers and local communities.
Just last year 181 US corporations – including Apple, Deloitte, Fox, and Walmart – signed the US Business Roundtable’s revised purpose of a corporation, which aims to promote “an economy that serves all Americans”.
Research published last month shows almost a third of consumers say they buy brands whose political and social values align with their own, and about a quarter of consumers boycott brands that don’t.
Nike’s path to politics
Nike has been a forerunner in using its marketing to push social campaigns. The shoe maker has come a long way since the late 1980s, when it was the iconic corporate exploiter of both third-world labour, including children, and poor communities in rich countries. All the while spending millions on athlete endorsements to market its expensive sneakers.
Since then, however, Nike has sought to reinvent itself as an socially responsible organisation that champions “equal playing fields for all”.
It dived into PCSR into 2018 when it chose controversial American footballer Colin Kaepernick for the face of its 30th anniversary “Just Do It” campaign.
Kaepernick began the practice of NFL players kneeling during the national anthem before games in solidarity with Black Lives Matter. US president Donald Trump called the kneelers “disgraceful”.
So Nike’s decision was not risk-free. On Kaepernick’s advice it also withdrew a sneaker featuring an early American flag.
Internally Nike has worked to improve equality, with pay equity maintained for women and members of minority groups. It funds grassroots initiatives such as PeacePlayers, whose mission is to unite communities through sport.
Walking the walk
The uptake of PCSR by so many other companies in support of Black Lives Matter is significant. But it is only the start of an evolution that corporate America must make to shake accusations of tokenism.
As Waleed Aly noted on the same episode of The Project, the focus on outbreaks of looting and violence at the expense of the much greater prevalence of peaceful protest, has helped obscure the main issue:
there’s things state governments could be doing right now that they’re not.
This is the point of PCSR – to address the “regulatory gaps” in social and environmental standards and norms.
Among the gaps in the US system contributing to overpolicing of black communities is the failure to provide equal access to public goods like education, health care and even clean air.
Those talking the talk of PCSR will need to walk the walk and get serious about addressing why America’s particular take on free enterprise has failed to deliver on its promise of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness by all.
Desmond Tutu’s quote rings out across the decades as a universal truth. But a well-known aphorism also bears repeating.
Earlier this week, you might have seen your social media taken over by a stream of posts showing simple images of a black square. These posts, often tagged with #BlackoutTuesday, were gestures of solidarity with protests against the police killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis.
There have been more than 28 million of these posts on Instagram, and online services such as Spotify and Apple Music also joined the movement. Social media activism is nothing new, but the scale of #BlackoutTuesday showed not only the cause but also the method of the protest were distinctly 2020.
Last weekend, two black women working in the music industry began a campaign asking the music industry, which they note “has profited predominantly from Black art”, to put its activities on hold for a day on Tuesday June 2.
Using the hashtag #theshowmustbepaused, they began making their case by posting an image to Instagram of a black background and white text asking the music industry to pause and reflect on the ways it disenfranchises black employees.
The movement soon took off: as the week began, posts showing simple black squares quickly proliferated across social media. The hashtags varied, from the original #theshowmustbepaused to #blacklivesmatter and #blackouttuesday.
Strange effects of the black squares
The black square posts have come in many forms. Some show the square alone with no text, some with #BlackoutTuesday and others with #BlackLivesMatter, associating the trend with the established political movement.
Many captions and comments posted with the image express the poster’s desire to educate themselves and others about racial inequality, to stand in solidarity with the wider Black Lives Matter movement, or simply “to do better”.
While the trend gathered momentum with posts from US celebrities as well as ordinary people around the world, it also attracted criticism.
Criticisms include the use of the #BlackLivesMatter hashtag, which activists use to stay informed about demonstrations, for financial donations and to document racial violence by police. Filling the hashtag’s feed with black squares, some argued, obscured more direct activities associated with the movement, redirected attention and “silenced” activists.
The current situation
Despite the backlash, the sheer numbers of people around the world who have posted black squares indicates that #BlackoutTuesday is a form of political expression that has resonated with the particular moment of June 2020.
Several countries are just coming out of pandemic lockdowns that have lasted for weeks or months. These lockdowns have meant work, education, entertainment and political engagement have largely been experienced online.
The pandemic and the economic devastation in its wake have left millions of people feeling uncertain and helpless. And in this dismal environment, in the same week the US surpassed 100,000 COVID-19 deaths, George Floyd was killed by police like many other African-American men before him.
Why not everyone is an activist
From the Arab Spring uprisings of the early 2010s to the Hong Kong demonstrations of 2019-20, social media has become an essential tool for political action. Activists use it to organise demonstrations, generate debate and facilitate social change.
However, for many people outside Western, liberal democracies, and in the “Global South”, visible political engagement can have severe consequences. This is particularly true for those who are kept from freedoms and opportunities by systemic exclusion based on race, class, gender or sexuality.
These consequences range from professional or social exclusion to harassment and intimidation to outright persecution and detention. As a result, many people in such societies may subscribe to “non-activism”.
Non-activism means explicitly rejecting visible involvement with political causes to focus on everyday concerns. People may reject activism even while they know doing so makes social change less likely.
Activism for non-activists
Blackout Tuesday was in some ways an ideal form of activism for non-activists, which may explain some of its enormous international popularity.
My own analysis of posts indicates users are based in countries including Ukraine, Brazil, and the Caribbean islands. Those who posted used visual social media to connect the experiences of one individual to structural violence and race-based exclusion that is pervasive in countries beyond the US.
The black square allowed millions of people to engage with a politically charged issue without having to seem too political themselves.
For many, especially those who would not consider themselves “political”, symbolism is a legitimate form of political engagement.
Worlds colliding
Algorithms, applications and automated systems play a significant role in what we see in online media. They affect how content reaches some audiences and not others, and automated systems may also perpetuate racial bias.
When activists turn to social media to further their cause, they too are ruled by the algorithms. We saw this in the criticisms of #BlackoutTuesday posts on Instagram, and particularly those using the #BlackLivesMatter hashtag, for preventing the hashtags (and the algorithms) from doing what protest organisers wanted them to do.
We may think of “social media users” as collective audiences, but they are made up of individuals embedded in a variety of contexts who do not necessarily have much in common.
For seasoned activists, #BlackoutTuesday was a moment in which popular support paradoxically made it harder to keep people informed. But for many others, it may have been a step towards political engagement through difficult terrain.
Australia’s local governments breathed new life into embattled regional communities after the second world war. Today, this history reminds us of the role local councils and communities should play in plans to power the national recovery from the COVID-19 shutdown.
Australia’s experience of this pandemic has opened a door to the past. The Spanish flu pandemic led to emergency powers, border closures and authority contests between state and federal governments.
Now, as Australia reopens the economy, it is time to consider lessons from post-war reconstruction. It was one of the nation’s greatest achievements. Post-war reconstruction reshaped the economy and set a national agenda for the following decades.
But, in the broad memory of the period, local initiatives are often overlooked. Responses in North Queensland, for instance, proved reconstruction was not the exclusive preserve of state and federal governments.
The social and economic impacts of the war had devastated North Queensland’s isolated communities. They faced an uncertain future. Without robust connections to national authorities, the people of North Queensland were at risk of being left behind by centrally planned reconstruction programs.
In response, the region’s local governments mobilised their collective resources. They led a huge recovery program, which transformed North Queensland. The efforts of councils and their communities helped stimulate a period of record northern development.
Planning began early
Post-war planning began long before hostilities ended. Under pressure from the federal Labor opposition, Prime Minister Robert Menzies had established a small Reconstruction Division in 1940. A political crisis consumed the leadership of both Menzies and his deputy, Arthur Fadden, and Labor’s John Curtin became prime minister in 1941.
Preoccupied with the war effort, Curtin at first overlooked reconstruction. Internal party pressure soon stimulated a national agenda and the creation of the Department of Post-War Reconstruction. It began work in 1942 with Ben Chifley as minister.
opportunity to move consciously and intelligently towards a new economic and social system.
COVID-19 provides similar opportunities for a centrally planned reboot of the national economy. Perhaps, as with the post-war reconstruction of North Queensland, local innovation could then drive this recovery.
Regional alliance set agenda
From 1942, preparations for the war in the Pacific [added “in the Pacific” for the benefit of readers who might not get the context from the date] transformed North Queensland. Huge numbers of Allied troops descended on the region. This led to shortages of food, jobs and housing.
Being close to the conflict zones in New Guinea and the Coral Sea intensified fears of invasion. Local residents were frustrated by a lack of attention from distant state and federal governments.
Councils should be given a greater share in the responsibility of good government of the people in their areas. The tendency [in Australia] is to govern from capital cities, and no matter how sympathetic the Governments may be it often results in control by persons not fully acquainted with local needs.
Local governments seized the initiative. Across a territory similar in size to the area from Sydney to the Gold Coast and west to Tamworth, North Queensland councils formed an ambitious alliance. They created the North Queensland Local Government Association in 1944.
The association aimed to overcome political and parochial rivalries. It formed bipartisan committees that examined regional priorities and developed a “Northern Reconstruction” agenda.
The projects the association sponsored resonate with the present challenges flowing from COVID-19. Increased civic engagement helped to deliver transport projects and industrial development. Local governments formed partnerships with power companies, port authorities and chambers of commerce.
Local governments fostered better connections across the region and with the rest of Australia. The association became a conduit for the flow of local knowledge to state and federal authorities. This helped focus crucial national resources on regional problems.
The association even had a commitment to intellectual endeavour. It sponsored a young historian, Geoffrey Bolton, to write the region’s first scholarly history.
Regions hard hit again
The global pandemic is not over. We still face the danger of further clusters of infections, a second wave is possible, and more deaths are likely. The shock waves from job losses, social disruption and isolation continue to spread more widely than the virus itself.
The nation’s regions have experienced this pandemic differently from metropolitan areas. In northern Australia, the impacts from disruption to tourism and other local economic sectors threaten to be devastating. In Western Australia, local networks have already proven invaluable.
Across regional Australia, the historical example of “Northern Reconstruction” shows the capacity of local governments to lead disaster recovery.
Pangolins are also one of the world’s most threatened species but new efforts are underway to reintroduce pangolins to parts of Africa where the animal has been extinct for decades.
The reintroduction of pangolins has not been easy. But it’s vital to prevent this shy, mysterious creature from being lost forever.
A cute but threatened species
Pangolins are the only mammals wholly-covered in scales, which they use to protect themselves from predators. They can also curl up into a tight ball.
They eat mainly ants, termites and larvae which they pick up with their sticky tongue. They can grow up to 1m in length from nose to tail and are sometimes referred to as scaly anteaters.
But all eight pangolin species are classified as “threatened” under International Union for Conservation of Nature criteria.
There is an unprecedented demand for their scales, primarily from countries in Asia and Africa where they are used in food, cultural remedies and medicine.
Between 2017 and 2019, seizures of pangolin scales tripled in volume. In 2019 alone, 97 tons of pangolin scales, equivalent to about 150,000 animals, were reportedly intercepted leaving Africa.
There is further evidence of the illegal trade in pangolin species openly on social media platforms such as Facebook.
The intense global trafficking of the species means the entire order (Pholidota) is threatened with extinction. For example, the Temminck’s pangolins (Smutsia temminckii) went extinct in South Africa’s KwaZulu Natal Province three decades ago.
Reintroduction of an extinct species
Each year in South Africa the African Pangolin Working Group (APWG) retrieves between 20 and 40 pangolins through intelligence operations with security forces.
These pangolins are often-traumatised and injured and are admitted to the Johannesburg Wildlife Veterinary Hospital for extensive medical treatment and rehabilitation before they can be considered for release.
In 2019, seven rescued Temminck’s pangolins were reintroduced into South Africa’s Phinda Private Game Reservein the KwaZulu Natal Province.
Nine months on, five have survived. This reintroduction is a world first for a region that last saw a viable population of this species in the 1980s.
During the release, every individual pangolin followed a strict regime. They needed to become familiar with their new surroundings and be able to forage efficiently.
Pangolins released immediately following medical treatment had a low level of survival for various reasons, including inability to adapt to their release sites.
A ‘soft release’ in to the wild
The process on Phinda game reserve involved a more gentle ease into re-wilding a population in a region that had not seen pangolins for many decades.
The soft release had two phases:
a pre-release observational period
an intensive monitoring period post release employing GPS satellite as well as VHF tracking tags.
The pre-release period lasted between two to three weeks and were characterised by daily walks (three to five hours) of individuals on the reserves. These walks were critical for acclimatising individuals to the local habitat, its sounds, smells and possible threats. It also helped them source suitable and sufficient ant and termite species for food.
Following that, the post release period of two to three months involved locating released pangolins daily at first, and then twice per week where they were weighed, a rapid health assessment was made and habitat features such as burrows and refuges monitored.
Phinda reserve manager Simon Naylor said:
A key component of the post release period was whether individuals gained or maintained their weight.
The way the animals move after release also reveals important clues to whether they will stay in an area; if they feed, roll in dung, enter burrows. Much of this behaviour indicates site fidelity and habitat acceptance.
Following nine months of monitoring and tracking, five of the seven survived in the region. One died of illness while the other was killed by a Nile crocodile.
Why pangolin reintroduction is important
We know so little about this group of mammals that are vastly understudied and hold many secrets yet to be discovered by science but are on the verge of collapse.
The South African and Phinda story is one of hope for the Temminck’s pangolin where they once again roam the savanna hills and plains of Zululand.
The process of relocating these trade animals back into the wild has taken many turns, failures and tribulations but, the recipe of the “soft release” is working.
Over successive Sunday nights, the ABC has premiered two important television programs recounting the history of nuclear testing in Australia – the documentary Maralinga Tjuratja and a six-drama series Operation Buffalo. Both explore the ramifications of the Anglo-Australian nuclear venture conducted at Maralinga during the cold war – but in very different ways.
Interest in exploring Australia’s atomic history has lingered long after the 1980s Royal Commission into the British nuclear tests in regional South Australia between 1953 and 1963. The new programs seek to add to our understanding of the traumatic and bizarre nature of this time.
The Nuclear Futures community arts project facilitated a number of Australian and international collaborative art undertakings during 2014-16.
A major travelling exhibition, Black Mist Burnt Country (2016-19), toured galleries and museums across Australia showcasing Indigenous and non-Indigenous artworks featuring our nuclear history.
By contrast, Australian film and television drama has made rare ventures into the domain, most notably with Michael Pattinson’s Ground Zero (1987). Clearly, there is still more to say about the events at Maralinga and the other test sites.
Written and directed by Larissa Behrendt, Maralinga Tjarutja stresses that the Indigenous people of this area should not be solely defined by their displacement and exposure to the nuclear tests, but by millennia of being in-country, where culture, knowledge and country are indivisible. The Indigenous elders interviewed for the documentary reveal a perspective of deep time and an understanding of place that generates respect for the sacredness of both.
Importantly, the documentary foregrounds a genuine hunger for knowledge and “truth” alongside the desire to reconcile two at times conflicting narratives, black and white.
It reveals the uncertainty that some Maralinga lands remain problematic for habitation, especially for traditional cooking. Elders, children and grandchildren describe the sadness and loss still affecting them, tinged with a hope for the future through the regeneration of the bush overseen by local Oak Valley rangers.
The profound and often tragic legacy of British nuclear testing in Australia will continue to have a long cultural and environmental half-life impacting flora, fauna and families for many generations to come. With people gagged by the UK Official Secrets Act and missing, inconclusive or disputed findings about the impacts from exposure to radiation, intergenerational trauma will linger due to uncertainty and anxiety.
Last Sunday’s introductory credits to the new six-part ABC series, Operation Buffalo, declares it “a work of historical fiction”, a point immediately qualified with the proviso “but a lot of the really bad history actually happened”.
Viewers expecting a serious docudrama forensically recounting the major controversies surrounding the British atomic tests in Australia will be disappointed.
An incongruous melange of satire, nostalgia and drama, Operation Buffalo functions akin to the traditions of Dad’s Army or M*A*S*H* rather than the deliberately grotesque and absurdist black comedy of Stanley Kubrick’s Dr Strangelove or Catch-22.
Longstanding larrikin and ocker tropes are paraded for parody alongside colonial tensions.
In the first episode men are mostly depicted as boozy, randy philanderers, unidentified rapists, lisping British boffins, or pompous and imperial patricians. The few women encountered are wily sex workers or world-weary nurses. Against this bumbling and corrupt assembly of miscreants, the initial representation of Indigenous characters is curiously played straight. Future episodes hint at a broadening of these stereotypes to include female scientists, spies and thuggish ASIO agents.
Operation Buffalo occasionally lapses from satire to farce, sprayed with scattergun effect, missing as much as hitting its comedic or political targets. Overall, the idea that such buffoons would be in charge of the nuclear testing enterprise is, of course, ludicrous. But the historical record remembers ethically odious British and Australian personnel, who ignored their own safety protocols to proceed with nuclear detonations.
The narrative economy dictated by a historical drama format often results in the conflation of characters and events, as evident is the 2019 HBO series Chernobyl. So, what obligation if any do the series creators have to accurately present these events?
In the weeks to come, Operation Buffalo will likely touch on matters still raw in the national psyche. They include Britain’s unilateral abandonment of major military and scientific joint-ventures in Australia, secret human radiation experiments, the mistreatment of Indigenous populations and service personnel, and the compounded denials and deceit over the contamination of the Maralinga lands. The scattergun approach may yet find its target.
Operation Buffalo is screening over six weeks on ABC and is available to stream on iView. Maralinga Tjarutja can still be watched via iView.
When the COVID-19 restrictions came into force more than two months ago, it meant lights out for the country’s 200,000 poker machines.
Now, the pokies are slowly turning on again across the country. This week, NSW became the first state to allow venues to reopen, with certain rules mandating patrons keep 1.5 metres apart.
While the health risks certainly need to be considered, there appears to be little to no thought being given to managing the risks of gambling harm that might come from restarting the machines after such an extensive break.
The economic recession and massive job losses make the situation even more worrisome. We know when people experience financial hardship, they are more likely to gamble. And at-risk gamblers, particularly, are more likely to experience significant financial hardship over the long-term.
When clubs, casinos and hotels were shuttered in late March, there were fears that “pokie” players could transition to online forms of gambling.
We have limited evidence, so far, as to the actual uptake of other forms of gambling during the lockdown. However, a survey of gamblers conducted in the ACT last year found that only 0.8% of gamblers engaged in offshore casino or pokie gambling.
Research in NSW has also found that only 2.3% of 18- to 24-year-olds played internet casino games and just 0.8% played online poker. These percentage decreased among older age brackets.
One of the main reasons is that online casino and poker machine gambling is illegal in Australia.
So, for your average Australian pokie player, the current closure of pokie venues is a compulsory break – a time when the constant “do I” or “don’t I” debate in people’s minds is temporarily suspended.
There will be many pokie players who will take this opportunity to turn their backs on the machines once and for all.
What if alcohol sales had been banned – and then reintroduced?
Although figures differ marginally across jurisdictions, approximately 10% of the adult population in Australia could be considered to be an at-risk or problem gambler.
Further to this, one in three people who play EGMs expand at first ref are considered at-risk or problem gamblers gamblers. This is assessed consistently across states using the Problem Gambling Severity Index, which asks questions such as, “have you felt you might have a problem with gambling?” and “has gambling caused financial problems for you or your household?”
Pre-COVID-19 analysis conducted by the ANU Centre for Gambling Research found that problem gamblers experience significantly worse social and economic outcomes than people without gambling problems – and these poorer outcomes are long-term.
This is why the reopening of venue doors is of such concern – it could result in the unleashing of months of pent-up angst for at-risk gamblers. Governments need to be thinking about harm reduction strategies now.
If alcohol purchases had been restricted during the lock-down period, for example, it would be reasonable to assume that harm-minimisation strategies would need to be put in place to manage the reintroduction of alcohol.
This is no different to the reintroduction of pokies.
Recommendations for minimising harm
As a result of COVID-19 social distancing restrictions, there will likely be requirements on venues to enforce social distancing (as in NSW) or limit the time patrons can spend on one machine or in the venue.
Restricting session time on machines to a maximum of one hour, for example, would help reduce gambling harm. We know from the 2019 ACT gambling survey that people who typically spend one hour or more in a single session are more likely to be at-risk gamblers.
Other suggestions to minimise gambling harm when restarting machines include:
public information campaigns detailing the risks associated with EGM play. This would assist people to make informed choices about whether to play again and what that means for their lives
more counselling and financial services support to help people who have effectively “self-excluded” from gambling during the shutdown to continue to do so. Research in ACT has found the vast majority of people (90%) who have gambled in the past 12 months wanted support to cut back or stop
regulators need to be extra vigilant around inducements and advertising that will be used by venues to bring gamblers back. We need to ensure this isn’t predatory.
This is a golden opportunity for state and territory governments to provide support to clubs to diversify their business models and reduce the numbers of machines on their premises.
It will also be crucial to monitor the harm when the machines come back on. Most jurisdictions have recently conducted gambling prevalence surveys, and there should be a staged data collection process to monitor any trends in behaviour.
The gambling industry sector in all the other states and territories will likely lobby governments hard to reopen soon. And governments will likely be eager to see the revenue stream of EGM taxation begin flowing again.
However, without the implementation of substantial harm-minimisation strategies to manage the re-introduction of pokies in our communities, we will likely see a significant increase in gambling harm in Australia.
The Conversation is running a series of explainers on key figures in Australian political history, looking at the way they changed the nature of debate, its impact then, and it relevance to politics today. You can read our piece on Julia Gillard here.
Henry Parkes, known today as the “Father of Federation”, set in motion the process that led to the joining of Australia’s six colonies in 1901 – a significant moment that heralded the birth of a new nation.
While he did not live to see the outcome – he died five years before the establishment of the Commonwealth of Australia – Parkes had been the driving force behind the idea of federation and a key architect of the process that ultimately created it.
Parkes’s vision was to unite the British colonies into a self-governing and democratic nation that spanned the continent. The new country would have a constitution written by Australians, but would remain “under the British crown” in an enduring relationship with the land of his birth.
Perhaps the most defining moment of his political career came in 1889, when he gave his Tenterfield Oration. Much like US President Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address in 1863, Parkes’ speech was little reported at the time, but later took on legendary status.
The great question which we have to consider is, whether the time has not now arisen for the creation on this Australian continent of an Australian government and an Australian parliament … Surely what the Americans have done by war, Australians can bring about in peace.
From radical ideas to a career in politics
Parkes was born in Warwickshire, England, in 1815 into a family of poor tenant farmers. After his family was forced off the farm by debt in 1823, he later worked in Birmingham and London.
In 1838, Parkes moved to New South Wales as a bounty migrant with his young wife and developed considerable talent as a journalist. This was all the more remarkable given he was largely self-educated.
He eventually gravitated to politics and associated himself with the radical patriots in the colony. With these radicals, Parkes pushed for universal suffrage, the transformation of the Australian colonies into a federal republic and, above all, for free trade. He also campaigned against the transportation of convicts from the UK.
Parkes later moved away from radicalism and republicanism, deciding he could achieve more in government. When New South Wales achieved control over its local affairs in the 1850s, Parkes joined the legislative assembly as one of a small group of liberals.
Parkes devoted his career to politics, moving through the ranks of the pro-free trade liberals to serve five terms as premier of New South Wales from 1872-91.
Parkes advocates for a federal council
After the separation of Queensland from New South Wales in 1859, there were five self-governing colonies in eastern Australia. The colonies were competitive and largely concerned with their own affairs. Federation was not a pressing issue.
Parkes was still relatively new to politics in the 1860s, but he nonetheless became a tireless crusader for his idea of a colonial union. As NSW colonial secretary, he proposed establishing a federal council of representatives from all five colonies in 1867, and again as premier in 1880. Both times, it went nowhere.
However, a few years later, the colonies finally began to see the benefits of a stronger federation, due to unease over the expanding influence of the French and Germans in the Pacific. All except NSW ultimately supported the establishment of the federal council in 1885.
The new council had limited legislative powers and no permanent executive powers or revenues of its own. The absence of NSW also weakened it.
Nonetheless, it was the first major form of inter-colonial cooperation. The council also allowed federalists to meet and exchange ideas, setting in motion the more ambitious campaign for federation led by Parkes.
The Tenterfield address and dawn of federation
By the end of the 1880s, opinion was divided over the future of the Australian colonies. While some advocated to “cut the painter” and separate from Britain, others preferred to protect the current system.
The concept of an “imperial federation” with a single federal state consisting of the UK at the centre and the self-governing colonies was also gaining popularity.
One of the primary obstacles to federation was the struggle between New South Wales, which supported free trade, and other colonies like Victoria, which advocated protectionism. Parkes was able to neutralise this problem by proposing that once a federation was created, a Commonwealth parliament could legislate on tariff policy.
In 1889, Parkes grasped the nettle. He proposed to the Victorian government that the colonies should appoint delegates to a convention, which would draw up the constitution for a nation and discuss its relationship with Britain.
Later that year, Parkes travelled to Queensland armed with a report on colonial defence to garner Queensland’s support for his cause. On his return journey, he delivered his famous address at Tenterfield calling for “a great national government for all Australia”.
In 1890, Parkes finally succeeded in putting together an informal colonial conference in Melbourne that led to the first National Australasian Convention in Sydney the following year. It was a revolutionary moment for the future country and produced the fundamentals of the federal system we have today.
Led by Parkes, the delegates in Melbourne and Sydney sketched out a House of Representatives, representing the people, and a Senate representing the colonies (later states). They also specified powers for the Commonwealth and the states, and envisioned a High Court to interpret the constitution.
Both conventions were a triumph for Parkes. Alfred Deakin, a young Victorian legislator at the time, noted he was
from first to last, the chief and leader.
More conventions were held over the coming years to iron out the details of a bill that was finalised in 1899 and transmitted to the UK for ratification by the British parliament.
Parkes’s legacy today
Parkes’s championing of the federal movement transformed Australia’s political agenda at a time when the colonies were still content to chart separate courses.
After his death, referendums were held in all the colonies in 1899 and 1900 and the people voted “yes”. Australia finally became a federation on January 1 1901.
In the federation procession in Melbourne in 1901, Parkes was the only leader who received public homage, with his image and slogans festooned on signs and other paraphernalia. Other politicians, including the country’s first prime minister, Edmund Barton, yielded him the preeminent position in the pantheon of federation fathers.
After 120 years, Australians take federation as a given. But had it not been for Parkes, Australia would probably not have become a nation in 1901, and the system of government we have today might well be very different.
A Papua New Guinea provincial governor has defending his actions for speaking up in Parliament yesterday on the government’s mooted proposal to extend the state of emergency (SoE) for two more months.
Writing on social media, Governor Allan Bird of East Sepik cited instances of police abuse under the SoE implementation and the lack of comprehensive and relevant government data on covid-19 in PNG as reasons for his argument, reports the PNG Post-Courier.
“If women who market food are beaten up by police and money collected from them and they have to report to me, then I have serious issues with [the] SoE and the way it is being implemented,” he posted on his Facebook account.
Using East Sepik provincial government (ESPG) funds, Governor Bird asked provincial administrator Dr Clement Malau to commission a study to determine if Sepik people had contracted covid-19 and recovered before testing started.
A team comprising four IMR staff and three PHA medical doctors sampled 1153 people over 10 days in six locations. Fifty people were detected IgG and IgM positive. A total 4.3 percent showed covid-19 antibodies.
– Partner –
Bird said all testing for covid-19 during the SoE returned negative.
“This is a clear indication that covid-19 passed through our population long before we started testing for it. This means our people had covid-19 and recovered. Nobody got sick and nobody died from it. This is important data which at the very least deserves to be factored into our decision-making process,” he said.
‘It is their duty’ “I expected senior ministers to commission similar studies and inform Parliament. That is their duty.
“Members of Parliament have to make very important decisions for you, on important matters like this. We can’t simply rely on government numbers. And we can’t be using US, China or Australian infections as a justification for our response.
“We are not Americans, Chinese or Australian, we are PNG. We must expect and demand PNG data.”
Bird further stressed that such decisions were important as they would take away the people’s constitutional freedoms and stop people from working to earn money to feed their families.
He said it was emotional hearing of a mother getting beaten by police for selling market goods to feed her children.
“I have reports of police collecting fines at road blocks. My people report these things to me through their councilors and LLG presidents. And when the Police Minister defends that, it’s simply unacceptable,” he said.
“The police are fast becoming the enemy of the people. When police take away our people’s right to liberty, who do you report to? The police station? Their minister? Who?”
Many police work tireless At the same time, he also acknowledged that many policemen and women worked tirelessly for the safety and security of the people while a few did not and continued to hide in the uniform.
“PNG can’t afford a prolonged SoE where civil liberties are curtailed and abused. We have rioting in America against police brutality. How long will our people remain silent here?
“These are relevant and pertinent questions. I had no desire to speak in Parliament today, I had not planned to. I only did so because I heard a proposal to extend the SoE for another two months.
“That is unacceptable based on what is happening on the ground,” he said.
In response to critics, Bird reiterated that the East and West Sepik provincial governments had used provincial taxes to pay for soldiers’ allowances to patrol the borders, helicopters and hire cars used by soldiers and medical personnel to protect the nation’s borders.
He said this was done without complaint and in full support of the national government, adding they would do that again even though they only received national government funding last Friday.
“I am grateful that [Prime Minister James Marape] proposed a 14-day extension rather than the two months being mooted. PMJM justified that this period is necessary to comply with legal requirements of passing an emergency bill.
“This new bill will be heavily scrutinised because that is the job you elected us to do. We are not sheep, we have a brain, we hear and we feel and we must do our best for you,” he said.
Australia has avoided the worst of the pandemic, at least for now. Comparable (albeit larger and more densely populated) countries, such as the United Kingdom and United States, are mourning many thousands of lives lost and are still struggling to bring the pandemic under control.
The reasons for Australia’s success story are complex, and success may yet be temporary, but four factors have been important.
Success 1: listening to experts
The formation of a National Cabinet, comprising the prime minister and the leaders of each state and territory government, was a key part of Australia’s successful policy response to COVID-19.
States and territories have primary responsibility for public hospitals, public health and emergency management, including the imposition of lockdowns and spatial distancing restrictions. The Commonwealth has primary responsibility for income and business support programs. Coordination of these responsibilities was crucial.
The National Cabinet was created quite late – in mid-March 2020 when cases were beginning to increase exponentially – but has proved an effective mechanism to resolve most differences as Australia’s dramatic and far-reaching measures were put in place.
Within a week of the National Cabinet being formed, Australia began to place restrictions on social gatherings. On March 22, ahead of a National Cabinet meeting that evening, Victoria, New South Wales and the Australian Capital Territory announced they were proceeding in the next 48 hours to shut down non-essential services. This helped push all other governments into widespread business shutdowns announced by Prime Minister Scott Morrison that night, to take effect the following day.
National cooperation was further enhanced by the Australian Health Protection Principal Committee (AHPPC), comprising Australia’s Chief Medical Officer Brendan Murphy and his state and territory counterparts. From the start of the crisis, this forum helped underpin Australia’s policy decisions with public health expertise, particularly with regard to spatial distancing measures. Murphy has frequently flanked Morrison at national press briefings.
Success 2: international border closures and quarantine
Australia’s decision to close its borders to all foreigners on March 20, to “align international travel restrictions to the risks” was a turning point. The overwhelming number of new cases during the peak of the crisis were directly linked to overseas travel, and overseas sources account for nearly two-thirds of Australia’s total infections.
A week after closing the borders, Australia instituted mandatory two-week quarantine for all international arrivals. Together, these measures gave Australia much more control over the spread of the virus.
Australians’ compliance is demonstrated by the low number of community transmissions, despite having less strict lockdown laws than some other countries such as France and New Zealand.
Success 4: telehealth
One of the federal government’s early moves was to radically expand Australians’ access to telehealth. This allows patients to consult health professionals via videoconference or telephone, rather than in person.
Australians have enthusiastically embraced telehealth, with more than 4.3 million medical and health services delivered to three million patients in the first five weeks. A survey of more than 1,000 GPs found 99% of GP practices now offer telehealth services, alongside 97% offering face-to-face consultations.
Unfortunately, Australia has also had failings, and it might have been in an even better position today if it had acted more decisively. Although it eventually “went hard”, the federal government spent the early weeks of the crisis mired in uncertainty.
Failure 1: the Ruby Princess
About 2,700 passengers from the Ruby Princess cruise ship were allowed to disembark freely in Sydney on March 19, despite some showing COVID-19 symptoms. The ship has become Australia’s largest single source of infection. About 700 cases (10% of Australia’s total) and 22 deaths (about 20% of Australia’s deaths) are linked to the ship.
Failure 2: too slow to close borders
While Australia was comparatively quick to ban foreign nationals coming from China, it was slow to introduce further travel restrictions as the virus began to spread throughout the rest of the world.
It took more than six weeks after Australia’s first confirmed case for the federal government to introduce universal travel restrictions. Before this, restrictions were targeted at specific countries, such as Iran, South Korea and, belatedly, Italy – despite other countries such as the US posing similar or even greater risks.
Australia was too slow to ready its health system for the prospect of the virus spreading rapidly. When cases began to rise exponentially, Australia was ill-prepared for a pandemic-scale response.
This was particularly evident in the testing regime. At first, some people with symptoms went to community GP clinics and hospitals, without calling ahead, putting others at risk. On March 11 the federal government announced 100 testing clinics would be established, but this was only completed two months later, once the peak of the crisis had passed.
The result was that as cases began to increase in mid-March 2020, Australia suffered supply shortages for testing.
Eventually, on March 26, elective surgeries were curtailed so PPE could be diverted to the pandemic frontline.
Failure 4: shifting strategies and mixed messages
The lack of a clear, overarching crisis strategy has resulted in a reactive policy approach, featuring confusing messages.
At first there was confusion about exactly which businesses or events (such as the on-again then off-again Melbourne Grand Prix) should be shut down. There were also inconsistencies between the Commonwealth’s position and the states’. For example, most states closed or partially closed their public schools around Easter and began reopening them when cases went down more than a month later. Despite concerns raised by some state governments, Prime Minister Morrison repeatedly insisted there was no risk in sending children to school. Childcare centres remained officially open throughout.
The mixed messages have been particularly pronounced on Australia’s approach to the virus itself. The federal government initially talked about “slowing the spread”, but some states argued for a “stop the spread” strategy. This tension increased confusion about how far Australia’s lockdown restrictions should go. Debate raged between people who argued that “herd immunity” was Australia’s only realistic option, and those who pushed for “elimination” of COVID-19 in Australia.
Confusion reigned for too long. Even an April 16 statement from Morrison, designed to clarify the long-term strategy, conflated two different strategies by declaring Australia was continuing to “progress a successful suppression/elimination strategy for the virus”.
In the end, the case count provided its own answer. Several states began to record multiple days and weeks with no new cases, showing that elimination may indeed be possible.
As restrictions unwind, a new norm will set in. The risk of COVID-19 emerging again means Australians’ way of life will have to fundamentally change. Significant risks remain, particularly for states that ease restrictions too fast. Continual monitoring will be required to prevent further outbreaks or a second wave.
During the coronavirus pandemic, have your kids been using headphones more than usual? Maybe for remote schooling, video chats with relatives, or for their favourite music and Netflix shows?
We have to be careful about both the volume and duration of headphone use. Listening too loudly or for too long can do permanent damage to hearing. The good news is there are ways to prevent long-term harm relatively easily.
Our hearing needs to be protected throughout life, because damage to hearing cannot be reversed. This is why we have workplace noise exposure standards and guidelines, which tell workers when to use protection such as earplugs or ear defenders.
Unfortunately though, hearing loss in children may be increasing. A study from last year, in which both of us were involved, reviewed the hearing of more than 3.3 million children from 39 countries across a 20-year period.
We found around 13% of children had measurable hearing loss by 18 years of age that may impact their ability to decipher sounds important for understanding speech. The study suggested hearing loss in kids is rising – but we don’t yet know why.
Not many studies have examined whether headphone use is directly linked to hearing loss in children. But in one study of 9-11-year-old Dutch children, where 14% had measurable hearing loss, around 40% reported using portable music devices with headphones. Could headphones be contributing? Possibly, but unfortunately we don’t know for sure, and more studies are needed.
How do we know whether our children’s hearing is being affected?
Adults typically first notice a hearing problem by struggling to hear higher-pitched sounds clearly. Sounds may seem muffled, or the ears may feel “blocked”, or they may notice a ringing or buzzing sound, called tinnitus.
Unlike adults, children won’t necessarily know how to describe these symptoms. Instead they may use terms they do know, like a bee buzzing, a whistle, or the wind blowing. Parents should treat any reported ear symptom as serious and get their child’s hearing tested. It’s best to visit a hearing clinic first, and then a GP if necessary, although this will depend on your location.
Excessive noise damages hearing
Our inner ear (cochlea) contains tiny hair cells, which change sounds we hear into electrical signals for our brain. These hair cells are finely tuned and are responsible for different pitches of sound, like keys on a piano.
Exposure to loud noise can damage these hair cells and perhaps the nerve that connects the cochlea to the brain. Repeated excessive noise exposure can lead to permanent hearing loss. Unfortunately, by the time someone experiences hearing problems, some irreversible damage has already happened.
What should we do to protect kids’ hearing?
The risk of hearing damage depends on both loudness and duration of sound exposure. Limiting both helps to reduce the risk of hearing damage.
Limiting loudness
We measure the loudness of sound in decibels (dB). But it’s important to note that the dB scale is logarithmic rather than linear. That means a 110dB sound (similar to a chainsaw) is actually much more than 10% louder than a 100dB sound. Parents can download free sound meter apps that help with understanding the volume of different environments and activities.
A more difficult task for parents is monitoring the loudness within their children’s headphones. Some headphones leak sounds out, while others insulate the sound into the ear. So a child using “leaky” headphones at a safe volume may appear to be listening to sounds that are too loud, but a child with tightly sealed headphones could be playing sounds at potentially damaging levels without parents noticing.
To understand their child’s specific usage, parents can:
listen to their child’s headphones to understand how loud sounds can become
check to see if children can hear you talk at a normal volume from an arm’s length away, over the sounds playing on the headphones. If they can, their headphone use is more likely to be at a safe volume.
There are headphones designed for children that limit the maximum loudness – usually to 85dB. While a limit is great, listening to 85dB sounds all day every day is not risk-free.
Noise-cancelling headphones are another option, albeit expensive. By reducing the intrusion of outside noise, it should mean children can keep headphone volume lower.
Managing duration
We should also monitor how long we’re exposed to sound. Everyday conversation is around 60dB, which will not be a problem regardless of the duration of exposure. However, guidelines say we can be exposed an 85dB sound (like a rubbish truck) for up to 8 hours at a time. But if the loudness of the sound is increased by just 3 decibels to 88dB, the sound energy is doubled, and safe exposure time would drop to just 4 hours. Operating a chainsaw at 110dB would then be limited to around 1 minute before damage is likely to occur.
Exposure to noise is cumulative. Noise can also come from other sources in the child’s environment. Consider a child’s activities throughout a day. Parents should try to avoid consecutive noisy exercises, like headphone use, music practice, then noisy toys or games. Considering the total “doses” of sound in the day means parents should schedule some breaks to allow the ears time to recover.
Of course, parents should practise what they preach! Modelling responsible use of headphones and awareness of the enjoyment of being able to hear well into adulthood is key.
When it comes to coronavirus cases, deaths and tests, Australia is performing better than many other countries with comparable populations and geographies, a new COVID-19 data visualisation reveals.
Use the tool below, which uses data drawn from Our World in Data, to explore how each country compares on:
the total number of COVID-19 cases
the total number of cases per million people
the number of daily new confirmed cases
the number of daily new confirmed cases per million people.
On COVID-19 fatalities for each country, you can see:
the total number of deaths
the total number of deaths per million people
the number of daily new deaths
the number of daily new deaths per million people
And for tests performed by each country (except China, which Our World in Data says has limited publicly available data on testing rates nationwide), you can see:
the total number of tests performed
the total tests per thousand people
the number of daily new tests
the number of daily new tests per thousand people.
Hit the “play” button to show how the situation for each metric developed over time (noting the long period at the beginning for which COVID-19 cases appeared to be confined to China, and the lack of publicly available data for nationwide testing rates in China). You can read more here about the limitations of the data.
The Conversation asked Adam Kamradt-Scott, an expert on health security and pandemic preparedness, to reflect on what the data reveal at date of this article’s publication. Here’s what he told us:
Australia is doing well
Overall, the data show Australia is doing pretty well. It has conducted a high number of tests (currently about 57 tests per thousand people), which is more than the US, Canada or South Korea have done per thousand. The comparison with South Korea, which has been widely praised for its handling of the pandemic, is especially notable and reflects well on Australia.
In Australia, the number of total cases, new cases and cases per million is low.
I hold some reservations about the speed with which social distancing measures are being relaxed around Australia, as there’s a risk we could see a surge of new infections if there are undetected cases.
But as long as we are able to maintain a high level of testing and people follow the guidance after testing, we might be OK.
It’s interesting to see Australia compares favourably with Canada, which is broadly comparable to Australia in population size and geographical spread, given Canada also went through the 2003 SARS outbreak and so has more experience in handling a pandemic.
Total tests and tests per thousands
You’d have to say one of the standouts is Bahrain. Based on this data, it has done an average of about 190 tests per thousand. That is pretty high, which can provide a measure of reassurance you are capturing the majority of cases.
So when we look at the overall number of tests, the US, Russia and Italy appear to be best but when you look at tests per thousand, Bahrain leaps ahead. (It’s worth noting, however, it’s a small and densely populated country, which puts it at an advantage when it comes to tests per head of population).
US president Donald Trump has said America has “more testing than anybody else”. This data currently show that while the US has the highest number of tests overall, it is bested by Australia, New Zealand, Russia, Bahrain, Italy and many other countries if you measure tests per thousand people (a better indication of how widespread testing is).
Deaths and deaths per million
Belgium is unfortunately a bit of a surprise, appearing in this data set to be suffering the highest rate of fatalities per million people. Quite a lot has been made of the UK and the number of fatalities there compared to other parts of Europe. But compared to others, Belgium is hardest hit when it comes to deaths per million, but this may have to do with the way they report data.
It’s worth remembering that in some countries, though, we’ll never really know how many people have really died of COVID-19. That’s because, in some cases, countries didn’t test people who died.
That’s a limitation of the data, which relies on what countries report. If some countries are simply burying people who have died without investigating the cause of death, then the picture can be skewed.
We will never know the full number of deaths in all countries from COVID-19, principally because it is very difficult to verify the cause of death in many parts of the world. You need the lab capacity and affordable access to testing, which many countries lack. In those circumstances, they can only make an educated guess.
Sweden, which has reportedly pursued a “herd immunity” strategy and eschewed many of the lockdown measures other countries have in place, is an interesting one. It is not as bad as Belgium, but it’s certainly up there with about 440 deaths per million. And if we look at new deaths per million, it also looks grim for Sweden (as well as the UK, Brazil and Peru).
The argument the Swedish government is reportedly making is that, in the long run, Sweden is going to be better off. But the Swedish strategy is an inherently risky one.
For example, if there’s a slight mutation or a new strain emerges the question would then be: to what extent does exposure to the previous strain confer immunity? If the answer is “not much” then Sweden could get hit with a second round of infections. That hasn’t happened and may not happen, but it highlights one of the risks.
At the same time, if we see a vaccine successfully developed, then one of the questions the Swedish government will have to answer is whether more lives could have been saved if they’d implemented lockdowns like many other countries did.
As we slowly emerge from lockdown, local adventures are high on people’s wish lists. You may be planning a trip to the ski fields, or even the nearby hills to revel in the white stuff that occasionally falls around our southern cities after an icy winter blast.
Our new research explores these low-elevation snowfall events. We pieced together weather records back to 1838 to create Australia’s longest analysis of daily temperature extremes and their impacts on society.
These historical records can tell us a lot about Australia’s pre-industrial climate, before the large-scale burning of fossil fuels tainted global temperature records.
They also help provide a longer context to evaluate more recent temperature extremes.
We found snow was once a regular feature of the southern Australian climate. But as Australia continues to warm under climate change, cold extremes are becoming less frequent and heatwaves more common.
Extending Australia’s climate record
Data used by the Bureau of Meteorology to study long-term weather and climate dates back to the early 1900s. This is when good coverage of weather stations across the country began, and observations were taken in a standard way.
But many older weather records exist in national and state archives and libraries, as well as local historical societies around the country.
We analysed daily weather records from the coastal city of Adelaide and surrounding areas, including the Adelaide Hills, back to 1838. Adelaide is the Australian city worst affected by heatwaves, and the capital of our nation’s driest state, South Australia.
To crosscheck the heatwaves and cold extremes identified in our historical temperature observations, we also looked at newspaper accounts, model simulations of past weather patterns, and palaeoclimate records.
The agreement was remarkable. It demonstrates the value of historical records for improving our estimation of future climate change risk.
‘Limpness to all mankind’
While most other historical climate studies have looked at annual or monthly values, the new record enabled us to look at daily extremes.
This is important, because global temperature increases are most clearly detected in changes to extreme events such as heatwaves. Although these events may only last a few days, they have very real impacts on human health, agriculture and infrastructure.
Our analysis focused on the previously undescribed period before 1910, to extend the Bureau of Meteorology’s official record as far as possible.
Using temperature observations, we identified 34 historical heatwaves and 81 cold events in Adelaide from 1838–1910. We found more than twice as many of these “snow days” by conducting an independent analysis of snowfall accounts in historical documents.
Almost all the events in the temperature observations were supported by newspaper reports. This demonstrated our method can accurately identify historical temperature extremes.
For example, an outbreak of cold air on June 22, 1908, delivered widespread snow across the hills surrounding Adelaide. The Express and Telegraph newspaper reported:
Many people made a special journey from Adelaide by train, carriage, or motor to revel in the unwonted delight of gazing on such a wide expanse of real snow, and all who did so felt that their trouble was amply rewarded by the panorama of loveliness spread out before their enraptured eyes.
From December 26-30, 1897, Adelaide was gripped by a heatwave that produced five days above 40℃. Newspapers reported heat-related deaths, agricultural damage, animals dying in the zoo, bushfires and even “burning hot pavements scorching the soles of people’s shoes”. As The Advertiser reported:
When the mercury reaches its “century” (100℉ or 37.6℃) there must be a really uncomfortable experience for everyone. One such day can be struggled with; but six of them in a fortnight, three in succession — that is a thing to bring limpness to all mankind.
On December 31, 1897, the South Australian Register wrote prophetically of future Australian summers:
May Heaven preserve us from being here when the “scorchers” try and add a few degrees to the total.
A longer view
While Australia has a long history of hot and cold extremes, our extended analysis shows that their frequency and intensity is changing.
The quality of the very early part of the record is still uncertain, so the information from the 1830s and 1840s must be treated with caution. That said, there is excellent agreement with newspaper and other historical records.
Our research suggests low-elevation snow events around Adelaide have become less common over the past 180 years. This can be seen in both temperature observations and independent newspaper accounts. For example, snowfall was exceptionally high in the 1900s and 1910s — more than four times more frequent than other decades.
We also found heatwaves are becoming more frequent in Adelaide. The decade 2010–19 has the highest count of heatwaves of any decade in the record. Although recent heatwaves are not significantly longer than those of the past, our analysis showed heatwaves of up to ten days are possible.
Previous Australian studies have identified an increase in extreme heat and a corresponding decrease in cold events. However, this is the longest analysis in Australia, and the first to systematically combine instrumental and documentary information.
Learning from the past
This study shows we can use historical weather records to get a better picture of Australia’s long-term weather and climate history. By using different sources of information, we can piece together the significant events in our climate history with greater certainty.
Historical records tell us about more than just exciting day trips of the past. They also hold the key to understanding impacts of extreme events, such as heat-related deaths or agricultural damage, in the future.
A better understanding of these pre-industrial extremes will help emergency management services better adapt to increased climate risk, as Australia continues to warm.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Lauren Rickards, Associate Professor, Sustainability and Urban Planning, School of Global Urban and Social Studies; Co-leader, Climate Change and Resilience Research Program, Centre for Urban Studies, RMIT University
This essay is based on an episode of the UTS podcast series “The New Social Contract” that examines how the relationship between universities, the state and the public might be reshaped as we live through this global pandemic.
Universities are confronting the possibility of profound sector-wide transformation due to the continuing effects of COVID-19. It is prompting much needed debate about what such transformation should look like and what kind of system is in the public interest.
This is now an urgent conversation. If universities want a say in what the future of higher education will look like, they will need to generate ideas quickly and in a way that attracts wide public support.
This will involve articulating their unique role as embedded, future-regarding, ethical generators of crucial knowledge and skills, well-equipped to handle coming contingencies and helping others do the same.
And this means higher education changes are entangled with another major force for transformation – climate change.
How can universities credibly claim to be preparing young people for their futures, or to be working with employers, if they do not take into account the kind of world they are helping to bring about?
It is rapidly exacerbating environmental and social stress across the globe, as well as directly and indirectly impacting all institutions and areas of life. And worse still, global greenhouse gas concentrations are moving in exactly the opposite direction to what we need, with carbon emissions growing by 2.0% in 2019, the fastest growth for seven years.
Much-needed transitions towards low carbon and well-adapted systems are emerging. But they are too piecemeal and slow relative to what is needed to avoid large scale cascading and compounding impacts to our planet.
Universities, along with all other parts of our society, will feel the effects of climate change. The cost of the devastation at the Australian National University due to the summer’s fires and hailstorm, for instance, is estimated to be A$75 million dollars.
Whether due to climate impacts (such as the effects of sea level rise on coastal laboratories) or policy and market shifts away from carbon-intensive activities (such as coal powered energy), research investments face the risk of becoming stranded assets. Not only could expensive infrastructure and equipment be rendered redundant, but certain skills, capabilities and projects could too.
Universities are key to enabling Australian society to transition to a safer and lower emissions pathway. They are needed to provide the knowledge, skills and technologies for this positive transition. And they are also needed to foster the social dialogue and build the broad public mandate to get there.
This means old ideas of universities as isolated and values-free zones, and newer notions of them as cheap consultants to the private sector, fundamentally fail to fulfil the role universities now need to play.
They must become public good, mission-driven organisations devoted to rapidly progressing human understanding and action on the largest threat there has ever been, to what they are taken to represent and advance – human civilisation.
Inaction will erode the trust on which universities rely, especially among the key constituencies universities are meant to serve – young people and the private, community and public sectors.
Who universities invest in, fund, partner with and teach, and how, will increasingly be judged through a climate change lens. All actors in the fossil fuel value chain – including insurance brokers and researchers – are coming under pressure to stop facilitating a form of production that enriches a few while endangering all.
mobilising more resources for action-oriented climate change research and skills creation
committing to going carbon neutral by 2030 or 2050 at the very latest
increasing the delivery of environmental and sustainability education across curriculum, campus and community outreach programs.
Some universities are already starting to build aspects of climate change into their operations. Most prominent have been efforts to divest university finances from direct support of fossil fuels. While some institutions are still dragging their feet, the University of California has announced it will fully divest its US$126 billion endowment from fossil fuels.
Pressure is similarly growing for Unisuper to stop investing Australian university staff superannuation into corporations that endanger the very future staff are saving for.
It is essential universities do not quarantine climate change as some kind of specialist topic. A recent analysis of management studies found a profound lack of engagement across the discipline with the implications of climate change.
This means recognising the strong overlap between work that has instrumental value for climate change action and work that celebrates the intrinsic value of human understanding. The intellectual and social challenges presented by climate change are perhaps the greatest justification yet for why we need open-minded, open-ended exploration and dialogue of the sort universities can provide.
Universities produce the knowledge galvanising others to act. It is time for them to act too. It is time for all of us who work in or with universities to reappraise our institutions in light of the changes needed, the changes coming, and the changes already here.
This is the public mission of universities in the 21st century. And it is the most pressing mission there is.
The next article linked to the podcast will look at universities and the nation’s workforce.
Universities and climate was made by Impact Studios at the University of Technology, Sydney – an audio production house combining academic research and audio storytelling.
Melbourne’s global reputation for liveability does not resonate with many Melburnians. Its economy has slipped into per capita recession a couple of times over the past decade. Population growth has outpaced the provision of parkland and social housing. Many households must look to fringe areas to find housing they can afford.
Ordinary citizens may well give the government credit for this ambitious agenda. Equally, they might wonder how all these projects add up to a long-term vision for Melbourne.
The official metropolitan strategy, Plan Melbourne, has little profile in the community. The government gazumped its own plan with its breathtaking 2018 election announcement of a suburban rail loop to reshape the city.
In contrast, the Greater Sydney Commission has devised a compelling metropolitan strategy. Its “three-city vision” has captured the popular imagination and galvanised a degree of infrastructure co-ordination across government agencies and local councils in Sydney.
The Victorian government took over the planning of metropolitan Melbourne in 1985. The Melbourne and Metropolitan Board of Works (MMBW) had for three decades managed the city’s development “under licence” from the state. State and local governments jointly “owned” the board as its governing body included state appointees and council-elected delegates.
The MMBW prepared the metropolitan strategy for sign-off by the state, acted as development approval authority for projects of metropolitan significance and delivered key infrastructure. This included water-cycle management, metropolitan parks and, for a time, city-shaping roads. Having its own rates base gave the MMBW a high degree of fiscal autonomy.
Bringing metropolitan planning under direct ministerial control seemed like a good idea at the time. The Cain Labor government had come to power with a detailed urban agenda. It included revitalising the CBD, reframing the city around the Yarra, boosting the economy and amenity of the western suburbs and reining in sprawl.
The government did not want a powerful, semi-autonomous, planning agency contesting this urban agenda. Premier John Cain also felt the MMBW was prone to corruption in planning matters.
What seemed to be a logical realignment for more democratically accountable planning has since been shown to be a regrettable move. Direct state control of metropolitan planning and infrastructure is beset by issues of legitimacy, competency and funding.
The state government speaks for the state, not the metropolitan community. Its lack of a metropolitan mandate constrains the government’s legitimacy in resolving conflicting planning objectives – for example, promoting urban consolidation while protecting local amenity. Communities are likely to see the government as unsympathetic to local concerns.
The primary competency of state governments rests in providing jurisdiction-wide services like health, education, policing and justice, which lend themselves to economies of scale and vertical integration. Such operations often unfairly attract the disparaging label “silo”.
State governments are best at serving citizens “at large” rather than citizens “in place”. By contrast, local governments have a natural competency in linking up and leveraging neighbourhood services.
The “silo tendencies” of state governments have to be tempered by investment in new institutions to make sure projects together produce the metropolitan outcome that policies like Plan Melbourne seek. At least five state government agencies have a direct hand in planning Melbourne. Around ten others have co-ordination or oversight roles in urban development.
Understanding how this complex web of institutions works is a challenge for those in the system let alone for ordinary citizens.
In the ten years to 2018, state government employment grew by around 20% in Victoria. In part, this increase reflected investment in project delivery, planning and co-ordination. In local government, which faces similar growth management challenges, employment has been more or less steady since 2010-11.
A metropolitan sphere of governance – working in a similar way to the former MMBW – might offer productivity advantages compared to elaborate administrative reforms within state governments to curb their silo proclivities.
Because they lack a mandate from the metropolitan community, state governments are not well placed to advance particular reforms to improve urban infrastructure.
One example is development licence fees. Increases in land value associated with rezoning and development approvals are the result of good urban governance and citizen-funded infrastructure rather than the efforts of passive land holders. “Value capture” strategies like development fees could raise billions in revenue without distortive effects. However, state leaders rarely canvass such reform.
While the state government has a big vision for Melbourne, it lacks the wherewithal to manage metropolitan development towards this end. Stronger institutions for integrated metropolitan governance are needed.
An opening gambit could be to establish a Melbourne Metropolitan Commission, taking on board the experience of the Greater Sydney Commission. It has done a great job of creating a new vision for Sydney, but is ultimately a wholly owned institution of the state government.
An effective Melbourne Metropolitan Commission would require at least a partial democratic mandate from the metropolitan community. A minority of seats on its board could be reserved for local council representatives appointed by electoral colleges across the metropolitan region.
As the custodian of Plan Melbourne, the commission would be the planning authority for all parts of the city that are of metropolitan significance. This would include major activity centres, the principal public transport network, the urban growth boundary and the national employment and innovation clusters identified in the plan.
The commission should be the “gatekeeper” that tests potential city-shaping projects against the metropolitan strategy.
The commission would control the public transport and arterial road networks, as well as metropolitan parks and water-cycle management. This place-based governance would be able to unlock synergies and innovations in these systems that have eluded state governments.
The commission might also be able to pursue the case for a fairer sharing of the value that metropolitan development creates.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Steven Hamilton, Visiting Fellow, Tax and Transfer Policy Institute, Crawford School of Public Policy, Australian National University
With the virus on the back foot, it’s tempting to declare victory. Provided we stay vigilant on the public health front, we do have a good chance of keeping the pandemic at bay. But there’s another enemy still to defeat.
The public health measures have worked so much better and faster than expected that calls to reign in the economic measures have already begun. The prime minister has said he wants to get the patient out of the intensive care unit as quickly as possible.
But these calls take for granted an economic snap-back that is far from assured.
Last month’s stunning revelation that the JobKeeper wage subsidy will cost A$60 billion less than expected has been taken by many as good news.
But this might not be because there is no need for further aid but rather because there are too many barriers to accessing it, or business owners have decided it is futile.
Even with this underspend, JobKeeper is propping up the wages of a quarter of the workforce. An extra half a million Australians have lost their jobs. While JobKeeper has saved many businesses, still thousands have failed.
It’ll be a three-step recovery
Reserve Bank Governor Philip Lowe said last week it would be a mistake to withdraw the fiscal stimulus too quickly.
If the economy picks up more quickly, that can be withdrawn safely, but, if the recovery is very drawn out, then it’s going to be very important that we keep the fiscal support going.
We see the battle plan for a full recovery progressing through three phases: (i) shutting down the economy until the pandemic is under control, (ii) bringing the economy out of the ensuing deep recession, and (iii) putting the economy back on a strong growth path.
If we’re lucky, we’re nearing the end of phase one.
We’re ready for step two
This crisis is unusual. We deliberately engineered an enormous decline in activity in order to achieve the social distancing required to bring the pandemic under control.
During this first phase, conventional stimulus would have been of limited help and could have been counterproductive. We needed tools such as JobKeeper to freeze much of the economy with the hope it would thaw once the pandemic was under control.
The second phase is the more conventional vicious cycle of workers who lose income spending less causing other workers to lose income.
It is best dealt with by fiscal stimulus.
Broad-based cash transfers to households, like those implemented in the United States, would be a powerful complement to existing measures. They could paper over cracks in JobSeeker and JobKeeper over the coming months, and help prevent any relapse as those schemes expire.
Economists widely acknowledge the role of the cash stimulus component of the Rudd government’s response to the 2008 global financial crisis in helping Australia avoid recession. The Morrison government could pick the best part of that response while avoiding the less effective parts.
These concerns are unwarranted. Australia went into the crisis with low debt by international standards, and can borrow at historically low fixed interest rates.
It can borrow for ten years at a rate close to 1%, less than the rate of inflation.
More debt, sooner, can cut debt
The more successful we are at getting the economy out of recession, the less we’ll spend on programs like JobKeeper and JobSeeker.
Provided we keep the pandemic at bay, the quicker the economy recovers the sooner earnings and taxes will pick up and the sooner the budget will be back in black.
A turn to austerity triggered by debt and deficit of the kind seen in Europe after the global financial crisis could deliver us a slower rather than a faster recovery in our debt to GDP ratio.
Phase three in our recovery is the search for programs to increase the productive capacity of the economy. They can help make up for lost time, getting the economy back to where it would have been without the crisis. And they can help deflate away the debt.
How best to set our economy up for the decades ahead is an important debate. We look forward to it.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Now is the time to use the best recession-fighting tools we have to get the economy back on the path to recovery.
The turnaround would be a considerable achievement.
But even if it happens, we will have only recovered to around the worst points of the 1980s and 1990s recessions, where employment decreased by about 4 per cent.
Employment won’t recover fully in this best-case scenario because some parts of the economy will still be shut down (including international travel) and COVID-19 will continue to cause many consumers to spend less than usual.
That best case is unlikely
There are several reasons to worry about whether the best-case can be achieved.
First, job gains from reopening businesses are likely to be offset by losses in employment in other industries suffering from reduced consumer demand and business investment.
While cafes and restaurants may start up again, Bureau of Statistics data shows that employment has begun to decline in large industries such as construction and professional services.
Second, the effects of reopening may not be all we expect. Labour hoarding – where businesses retain more workers than needed during an economic downturn – might mean that reopening doesn’t translate into as many new jobs as expected.
This is likely to be particularly acute given that JobKeeper has effectively paid employers to subsidise labour.
Third, impacts from longer-run structural changes in the economy might begin to cause employment losses, especially as JobKeeper is partially unwound.
So what are we to do?
Even under the best-case scenario employment will be substantially lower than before COVID-19 well into the future. And we can’t presume the best-case will happen. A compelling case exists for substantial ongoing economic stimulus post-September 2020.
The labour market will not have fully recovered by then. To remove stimulus would only set back recovery. The question therefore should not be: is stimulus needed, but rather, what size and type of stimulus is needed.
Continuing JobKeeper beyond September 2020 could have an important role in providing income security to affected workers and macroeconomic stimulus.
It is a known policy, it operates effectively, and it appears to have community support. Replacing it with an alternative type of stimulus could risk harming confidence and the recovery.
We can’t simply end JobKeeper
An extra (and considerable) advantage of continuing JobKeeper is allowing time for a staged transition away from it. Stopping it will inevitably push up unemployment.
A staged transition would spread out that adjustment rather than creating a shock in September.
A transition from JobKeeper could be done via stepped decreases in the size of payment or progressively restricting eligibility as industries or businesses recover. The transition could begin at the end of September, or earlier if it is judged that employment is likely to have already recovered substantially before then.
An objection to retaining JobKeeper is that it is preventing adjustment in the labour market, and disrupting the normal process of businesses starting up and failing.
There are two responses.
First, the question is not about whether JobKeeper should be permanent, but about the timing of its removal.
Whenever it is (or starts to be) removed, labour mobility will return and any firms on life support will disappear. Having this happen via a staged transition is better than having it happen all at once.
Second, the potential economic losses from unemployment in a depressed economy swamp the potential losses from having inefficient firms operating for longer.
Our number one priority has to be maintaining and restoring employment.
There’s a long-running adage about working for free in the performing arts. “The problem with working for exposure,” it goes, “is you can die from exposure”.
Only partly a joke, the saying is also a sober warning to performers. Work in the cultural industries is precarious, and performers rely on a combination of short-term gigs, casual contracts, and “day jobs” to make ends meet. Unpaid work is a common feature of the market, and performers often find themselves working without remuneration in order to make connections or add a line to their resume.
Since March 2020, there has been a worldwide influx of digital arts content. Forced to shutter live seasons, performing arts organisations collectively jumped on the digital bandwagon. From live-streaming events to archival production footage, audiences are inundated with virtual performance events.
In most cases, this content has been offered for free. The Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, Opera Australia, New York’s The Metropolitan Opera, and the UK’s National Theatre, among many others, have streamed live or prerecorded performances on digital platforms for no charge.
Companies without access to archival footage have posted free offerings of different kinds. The Melbourne Theatre Company, for example, has posted behind-the-scenes features, play readings, and artist interviews.
At the beginning of the shutdown, digital platforms were a critical tool for audience engagement. Arts organisations could communicate the importance of the arts as a source of comfort and inspiration during a time of crisis, while simultaneously reaching a far wider audience than their physical spaces could ever hold.
For starters, safety is a major concern. A number of genres, including opera and musical theatre, pose particular risks to both performers and audience members due to singers’ potential role as super-spreaders. The risks posed by, and to, dancers, instrumentalists, and spoken theatre artists remains uncertain.
From a business perspective, financial viability is also of grave concern. Under social distancing guidelines, performing arts venues will be limited to a fraction of their standard audience capacity. In a sector reliant on box office sales to maintain the bottom line, theatres may find it cheaper to simply stay closed.
In this climate, digital content may be the only means for sustaining the sector in the medium-term. But a problematic precedent has been set.
In the initial panic of moving their artistic offerings online, companies have undervalued their own product. In this regard, we can see clear parallels with the newspaper industry’s shift to online platforms over the last decade. After initially offering online news for free, the industry is still struggling to shift consumer expectations, with major repercussions for both journalists and papers.
To survive, arts organisations must establish a monetised business strategy for online performances and presentations. But this shift must be navigated carefully, particularly by companies that began with an open-access model and now risk alienating audience members.
Several arts organisations have already experimented with different ways of monetising digital content. In the UK, the Old Vic theatre is live-streaming a socially distanced version of Lungs for £10-65 (A$18-120) per “ticket”. In Australia, the Melbourne Digital Concert Hall is producing virtual concerts for a paid audience, with all ticket proceeds going to the performers.
Many companies, like New Zealand’s Tempo Dance Festival, are making shows available online but asking for donations. Red Line Productions’ online readings have featured marquee names like Alec Baldwin and Rose Byrne, and also asked for donations. Based out of New York, Bang on a Can’s June marathon promises six hours of streamed live music with a request to “consider” purchasing a ticket or paying extra to commission a new piece. But voluntary contributions can’t sustain the operating costs of these companies long term.
Depending on how various models develop, there will be unavoidable impacts on performers. At present, there are no standardised rates for artist compensation for digital work, whether participating in a prerecorded performance or generating new content for a company to post online.
We’ve already seen how artists’ passion for their craft can be exploited for a cause. The Metropolitan Opera cancelled contracts for its principal singers and union orchestra and chorus in March 2020, only to have them perform for free as part of the company’s digital fundraising gala a month later. The Melbourne Symphony Orchestra similarly stood down its instrumentalists in April 2020 but has since asked them to participate in social media marketing campaigns without pay.
Bottom line
While involvement in promotional activities is standard practice for contracted artists, it’s impossible to ignore the problematic power dynamic now at play. Companies are asking unemployed artists to provide free labour to support organisations that may or may not employ them in the future. And because performers love what they do and want to support the struggling sector, they agree.
While there are reports the government is working on an arts rescue package, the message being sent is one the sector has heard time and again. The arts are important, and artists should be compensated … but only when it’s financially convenient.
Arts organisations cannot survive from digital exposure and goodwill alone. They must develop new business models for online platforms. But companies must also tread carefully to ensure they don’t ultimately undermine the value of the arts – or their artists.
The government will provide eligible owner-occupiers with a grant of $25,000 to build a new home or extensively renovate an existing one.
The scheme – estimated to cost up to $688 million – will not be limited to first home buyers.
Contracts must be entered into between now and the end of the year, with work to begin within three months of the contract date, to maximise the stimulus to an industry set to take a big hit from the pandemic crisis.
The means-tested HomeBuilder scheme will be available to individuals with income up to $125,000 and couples whose combined income is up to $200,000.
It will not be available to companies or trusts, those who are not Australian citizens or people under 18 years of age. Owner builders will not be eligible, nor can the scheme be used for investment properties.
New builds must be for a principal place of residence with a cap on the combined value of house and land of $750,000.
Those renovating their existing home as a principal place of residence will have to be making changes valued between $150,000 and $750,000, with the dwelling worth not more than $1.5 million before the renovation.
The renovation must be “to improve the accessibility, safety and liveability” of the home. It can include a combination of work, such as a kitchen and bathroom renovation.
It can’t be for unconnected additions, such as detached sheds or garages, or for swimming pools, tennis courts or outdoor spas and saunas.
It must be under the supervision of a registered or licensed builder.
Sensitive to comparisons with the Rudd government’s stimulus grants in the global financial crisis, notably the controversial pink batts scheme, the government has listed differences including the limited term of the program, tighter eligibility criteria and expert supervision.
The latest package comes as Wednesday’s national accounts showed the Australian economy went backwards by 0.3% in the March quarter. Annual growth was 1.4%.
Treasurer Josh Frydenberg admitted Australia is already in recession, given the June quarter is expected to be horrendous. A common definition of a recession is two negative quarters.
Frydenberg also announced the government’s promised economic and fiscal update has been delayed, from June until July 23.
He said it would include the response to the review of JobKeeper, which is currently under way. He again flagged the government could cut the $1500 a fortnight payment for those earning less than that before COVID.
Shadow treasurer Jim Chalmers said the delay was a disgrace in these uncertain times.
The government says the housing scheme will help support 140,000 direct jobs and another 1,000,000 related jobs in the residential construction sector.
The sector has lobbied for special assistance, saying it expects new dwelling starts to fall by half by the end of this year.
The government expects competition for work will keep prices contained.
Frydenberg said that “with dwelling investment expected to decline by around 20% through the June quarter, the HomeBuilder program will support residential construction activity and jobs across the industry at a time when the economy and the sector needs it most”.
The scheme will be implemented through the states and territories, which will monitor compliance. The grant will be paid to people when they make their first progress payment.
Prime Minister Scott Morrison said: “Our JobKeeper support has helped the construction sector weather the crisis, now we’re helping fire it up again.
“This is about targeted taxpayer support for a limited time using existing systems to ensure the money gets used how it should by families looking for that bit of extra help to make significant investments themselves.”
Housing Minister Michael Sukkar said “HomeBuilder will not only support the jobs of carpenters, plumbers, bricklayers and electricians on our building sites, it will also support the timber mill workers who produce the frames and trusses and the manufacturing workers who make the glass, brick and tiles for our homes”.
Some days ago, Labor’s housing spokesman Jason Clare said the housing industry was “expected to go off a cliff” and a stimulus package was urgently needed. Labor has also said stimulus should be given to social housing.
Prime Minister Scott Morrison and Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi will finally hold a virtual summit this week after efforts to meet in person were scuttled by the bushfires and coronavirus.
The meeting is significant, not just because it is happening online, but also due to the cooling of relations each country is currently experiencing with China.
While it is unlikely that the “C” word will figure in the talks between Morrison and Modi, China will no doubt loom large in both leaders’ minds.
Room for growth in trade and investment
Australia-India relations have been on a roller coaster for many decades. Australia has long sought closer ties with India, but Delhi has responded with more hesitancy.
Take, for example, prime ministerial visits. While most Australian prime ministers have visited India in recent years, the reverse has not been the case. Modi’s 2014 visit to Australia was the first for an Indian leader since Rajiv Gandhi came in 1986.
The Australian government has also issued variousreports over the years to try and engage India economically, but the relationship has remained imbalanced.
For example, bilateral trade remains heavily in Australia’s favour, with close to A$17bn in exports to India in 2018 compared to just A$5bn in imports from India.
Since the two countries signed a strategic partnership in 2009, both sides have seen greater potential for expanding trade and investment, and growing closer diplomatically.
The India Economic Strategy Report, compiled by Peter Varghese for the Australian government in 2018, identified key areas where growth is possible in the coming decade, including education, agribusiness, resources and energy, and tourism.
Australia is particularly keen to reduce its over-dependence on China in higher education. According to Varghese’s report, HSBC found the number of Indian parents wanting their children to study abroad had jumped from 47% to 62% from 2016-17. By 2030, India wants to lift its enrolment rate in higher education from the current 27% to 50%.
The overall targets mentioned in Varghese’s report could see Australian exports to India grow to around A$45bn by 2035.
In response, India was about to issue its first-ever Australia engagement strategy report prepared by a former Indian diplomat, Anil Wadhwa, during Morrison’s visit to India earlier this year. But this has still to see the light of day.
While economic possibilities abound, huge challenges remain. India’s withdrawal from the Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership, a proposed free-trade agreement between Australia, New Zealand, China, Japan, South Korea and the ASEAN members, has sent the wrong signals to the rest of the region.
In addition, an Australia-India economic partnership agreement has yet to be finalised, nine years after negotiations began.
The COVID-19 pandemic will also likely slow India’s economic growth and increase domestic calls for more economic self-reliance. This could in turn have repercussions for Australian exports to India.
Also, given the decline in household incomes in India caused by the pandemic, a big jump in inbound tourists or full-fee paying students coming to Australia is unlikely in the short term.
More room for strategic cooperation
Strategically, there is room for growth, as well. Both countries are members of the so-called “Quad”, a security dialogue framework comprising Japan, India, Australia and the United States.
With India’s growing defence and security links with the US, Canberra is also feeling more comfortable forging defence agreements with New Delhi, such as the proposed Mutual Logistics Supply Pact, an agreement for reciprocal access to military logistics facilities. It is expected to be signed during the virtual summit.
Australia should also expect an invitation to take part in the Malabar naval exercises with India, Japan and the US in the Bay of Bengal this year.
Australia had participated in the exercises in 2007, but withdrew after China expressed concerns. It has been in talks to rejoin the exercises since 2015.
Morrison has enthusiastically promoted his samosa diplomacy through his Twitter account and Modi has eagerly responded. There is much potential to improve relations in the coming years, as well. As Australia’s newly appointed high commissioner to India, Barry O’Farrell, said recently
over the last few months and years, India and Australia have grown closer together. India and Australia are at a historical high.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Anna-Sophie Jürgens, Lecturer (Assistant Professor) in Popular Entertainment Studies and Science in Fiction Studies, Australian National University
Bloodsucker, leech, tick – few things have a reputation worse than parasites. But these biological hangers-on also have a comic cultural history.
In biology, a parasite is an organism that lives on or in a host organism and gets its food (or other benefits) from (or at the expense of) its host. Scientists have just documented the oldest known example of a parasite-host relationship – a nutrient stealing worm over 500 million years old.
Due to their complex and often hidden life cycles, parasites seem to appear suddenly. They thrive in oozing wounds or are transmitted via explosive diarrhoea. No wonder parasites occupy a vivid role in our cultural imagination.
In fiction and popular culture, parasitic characters appear as a metaphor for the threat and spread of disease. They infiltrate human bodies and transform them into monsters, like Dracula. Or they act as extraterrestrial biological weapons like in the Alien saga. The quintessential parasite narrative – per 2019’s Oscar-winning Parasite – showcases it as a physiological, psychological and social threat. But they’ve also played for laughs.
Italian showman Louis Bertolotto’s “extraordinary exhibition of industrious fleas” from the early 1820s is the first documented flea circus. It featured a 12-piece flea orchestra playing audible flea music, a Great Mogul Flea (with harem!), a ballroom with flea ladies and frock-coated gentlemen dancing a waltz, a mail coach drawn by four fleas (with a cracking whip) and a reenactment of the Battle of Waterloo including Wellington, Napoleon and field marshal Blücher – all played by miniature warrior fleas.
Today, traditional flea circuses can still be found. Flohzirkus Birk and his fleas have entertained small crowds at Oktoberfest in Munich for decades. Humans play fleas and other insects in the Cirque du Soleil show Ovo – leaping through a day in the life of bugs.
The flea fiction literary genre exists for those who prefer to use their own imagination. It includes humorous 19th century texts such Hans Christian Andersen’s The Flea and the Professor and German Gothic writer E. T. A. Hoffmann’s Master Flea, both of which feature tame flea companions and collaborators.
The genre also includes flea porn, which features the little bloodsuckers in all kinds of interesting perspectives. An example is the The Autobiography of a Flea (published anonymously in 1887).
My funny parasite
Use of the word “parasite” predates its biological label.
In 1755, Samuel Johnson’s Dictionary defined parasite as “one that frequents rich tables, and earns his welcome by flattery”.
The comic heritage of the parasite shimmers through Honoré de Balzac’s 1847 novel Le Cousin Pons (which had the working title Le Parasite) and Arthur Conan Doyle’s novel The Parasite, first published in 1894. The latter is about a professor who is turned into a clown, “the laughing-stock of the university”, by a mysterious person, parasite-like influencing his mind and behaviour.
In our recent journal article, we expanded on the work of philosopher Michel Serres and literary scholar Enid Welsford to discuss the parasite as a cultural force. Our paper – a fairly rare collaboration between a biological scientist and a humanities scholar – also looked to more contemporary examples such as the hilarious parasitic remote control in Tim Burton’s 1988 film Beetlejuice.
Beetlejuice looks like a morbid clown with green hair, heavy makeup and a stripey suit. He is a supernatural creature whose job is it to help recently deceased adjust to their eternal afterlife. In this in-between space, Beetlejuice performs what Michel Serres defines as a parasitic communication role: making “productive and creative noise”. By forcing his “hosts” to act differently, this parasite transforms the relationship between two parties and invents a new logic and cohabitation.
Do gooders
By pushing boundaries and exploring notions of self, parasites are a cultural force and source of comic inspiration. What does it feel like to be a leech? How does the host feel? Where is the line between the two bodies?
There are comic scenarios and narratives hidden in anxieties of involuntarily shared identities. In biology, the sustained and intimate relationship between parasite and host challenges the concept of individual boundaries. The distinction between host and parasite becomes blurred and they form a new entity altogether.
It might come as a surprise that the appreciation of parasites in the arts took place long before biologists acknowledged their contribution. Only in recent decades have parasites been recognised as stabilisers of ecosystems and drivers of evolution and biodiversity.
Their footprints can be seen in genetics, epidemiology and medicine; and a better understanding of parasites has significantly increased our appreciation of them. Exploring the cultural imaginarium of the parasite and its comic dimensions pays tribute to the many positive aspects of parasites.
Whether we like it or not, pathogens like parasites are around us and inside us. They determine us biologically and they influence our cultural norms.
Delving deeper into the cultural world of parasites brings to light droll artistry: from funny domesticated creepy crawlies to clown parasites and dark villains.
The organisers of Black Lives Matter protests in several main centres will not be prosecuted.
On Monday, thousands gathered at several events around the country for Black Lives Matter marches in solidarity with protesters in the United States after the police killing of George Floyd.
National Party leader Todd Muller told RNZ he thought the Black Lives Matter protests made a mockery of the Covid-19 alert levels and accused the government of sending mixed messages.
Assistant Commissioner Lauano Sue Schwalger said police would speak to organisers to set clear expectations for any further protests.
– Partner –
She said organisers made an effort to ensure participants complied with level 2 rules, such as providing hand sanitiser and encouraging people to maintain social distancing.
“It was an unfortunate reality, with the numbers of people who attended, that this quickly became impractical.”
Schwalger said police always acted in accordance with the situation at hand.
“In these circumstances, it was probable that attempts to enforce alert level 2 would have caused tension in an otherwise peaceful protest, without being effective to enhance physical distancing, given the numbers in attendance.”
This article is republished by the Pacific Media Centre under a partnership agreement with RNZ.
If you havesymptomsof the coronavirus, call the NZ Covid-19 Healthline on 0800 358 5453 (+64 9 358 5453 for international SIMs) or call your GP – don’t show up at a medical centre.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Michael Fletcher, Senior Research Fellow, Institute for Governance and Policy Studies, Te Herenga Waka — Victoria University of Wellington
One of New Zealand Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern’s favourite exhortations is that we all “be kind” to one another. It’s part of the reason she and her government have won admiration around the world for their handling of the COVID-19 pandemic.
Their latest income support program, however, has led many to question why that kindness is not extended to the country’s 300,000-plus pre-COVID welfare beneficiaries. These New Zealanders have fared worse under New Zealand’s centre-left coalition than their Australian counterparts have under Scott Morrison’s centre-right government.
The COVID-19 Income Relief Payment announced last Friday is an after-tax payment of NZ$490 a week for a maximum of 12 weeks. It applies only to those who lose their full-time jobs due to the pandemic (the part-time rate is $250 a week).
The temporary scheme applies to job losses between March 1 and October 30 and replaces any other welfare payment a person may have been entitled to. Unlike other benefits, entitlement is individually targeted: you can receive the full payment unless your partner’s gross income exceeds $2,000 a week, in which case nothing is paid.
The new benefit can be viewed as a state-funded pandemic redundancy package. The rates have been deliberately set close to the 12-week wage subsidy, which has supported 1.64 million jobs since March 17.
Workers who lose their jobs as the wage subsidy becomes more targeted, or if their employers close or downsize, will in effect have an extra 12 weeks’ support at the same rate.
Two classes of unemployed
Less positively – and controversially – the payment creates a massive inequity between those who qualify and those who must rely on standard welfare benefits and welfare eligibility rules.
The single adult benefit is $251 a week. A couple with children gets up to $428, compared to $960 a week if they both receive the COVID-19 payment. As some critics have put it, New Zealand now has two classes of unemployed.
The new payment also highlights the similarities and differences between the New Zealand and Australian income support responses to the pandemic.
Both countries focused first on short-term employment protection. New Zealand’s wage subsidy scheme was available to firms that had lost 30% of their revenue due to COVID-19, providing support for 12 weeks at about 50% of the median wage. When it runs out in June a more targeted scheme will be available for eight more weeks.
Australia’s JobKeeper program pays roughly 70% of the median wage for a maximum of six months.
Those already on welfare benefits when the pandemic struck, however, have been treated quite differently. In the first round of responses, the Ardern government increased core benefit rates by $25 a week. This was a flat-rate, permanent increase of between 6% and 11%, depending on benefit category and family circumstances.
The Winter Energy Payment allowance was also doubled between May and October, giving an extra $20.45 a week for a single person and $31.82 for a couple or family with children.
By comparison, the Morrison government introduced the temporary Coronavirus Supplement, an additional payment of A$225 a week to all existing and new beneficiaries. It applies for six months from late April.
The supplement roughly doubles the JobSeeker rate and is in addition to the two lump-sum A$750 stimulus payments to all income support recipients and concession card holders.
One could argue in favour of New Zealand’s Income Relief Payment as a somewhat oddly designed social insurance program. Such two-tier, time-limited schemes are, after all, the norm in Europe. But that works if – and only if – the bottom tier provides an adequate minimum standard of living.
That is not the case in New Zealand. Numerous studies, including most recently the government’s own Welfare Expert Advisory Group’s 2019 report, have shown New Zealand’s welfare system is well short of adequate.
The government knows benefits are too low
The minister of social development and other ministers have repeatedly acknowledged this. Analysis by the Child Poverty Action Group shows that, taking the COVID response and earlier government measures into account, working-age beneficiary families’ incomes (after housing costs) are still below the poverty line. This is based on one of the government’s own child poverty indicators – “50% of median equivalised income”, or 50% of the median income after taking account of family size.
This analysis showed support for beneficiaries provides between 29% and 46% of median equivalised income, depending on family type and circumstances. The extra income needed to reach that poverty threshold ranges from $45 a week to $195 a week.
Presenting his “rebuilding together” budget in May, Finance Minister Grant Robertson referred to New Zealand’s first Labour government, which established what was then a world-leading welfare state after the depression of the 1930s. He also made mention of Peter Fraser, the great Labour prime minister who was a central architect of that welfare state and who led New Zealand through the second world war and its aftermath.
What those early reformers would make of their successors is hard to say. But perhaps it wasn’t an earthquake we felt last week while Jacinda Ardern was being interviewed live on TV. Perhaps it was Peter Fraser rolling in his grave.
A go-slow on spending sent the economy backwards 0.3% in the first three months of this year, only the fourth such decline since Australia was last in recession in the early 1990s.
Treasurer Josh Frydenberg says treasury has told him that the next three months, the June quarter that we are in at present, will see a “far more severe” contraction, one private sector forecasters believe could be as high as 10%.
Asked whether that meant Australia was already in recession, he said it did.
Quarterly GDP growth since 1990
Most unusually for an economic downturn, household incomes rose throughout the quarter, pushed higher by a 6.2% increase in government payments related to COVID-19 and the bushfires, and an 11.1% increase in insurance payouts as a result of bushfires and hailstorms.
But rather than spend most of it, Australian households dramatically increased saving in the quarter, pushing the household saving ratio up from 3.5% to 5.5% and pushing down household spending 0.2%.
Household savings ratio
Spending on goods actually increased over the three months as Australians stocked up on essentials including toilet paper in March.
The production of “petroleum, coal, chemical and rubber products” surged 8.1% as consumers stocked up on cleaning and disinfectant products.
But spending on services plummeted, led down by dramatic falls in spending on transport and hotels, cafes and restaurants.
Household consumption, March quarter
Spending on transport services (airlines and the like) fell 12.0%. Spending on hotels, cafes and restaurants fell 9.2%, each the biggest fall on record.
“Production” in these industries fell 4.9% and 7.5%. Profits fell 6.8% and 14.2%.
Spending fell on ten of the 17 consumption categories.
Household consumption by category, March quarter
Most of the changes took place at the very end of the March quarter.
A new index of the “stringency” of COVID-19 containment measures released with the national accounts shows they ramped up only in the final two weeks.
Most have been in place for the entirety of the June quarter to date, suggesting the impacts on spending and production will be a “lot more substantial”, in the words the treasurer used in the national accounts press conference.
ABS stringency of containment measures index
Were it not for government spending, which has climbed 6.2% throughout the year, the plunge in March quarter GDP would have been much more severe.
Calculations of the Bureau of Statistics suggest it would have been twice as severe, a March quarter decline of 0.6% rather than 0.3%.
The treasury had been contemplating a fall in gross domestic product of 20% in the June quarter. Australia has avoided that fate by acting on health and the economy early.
Its fall in GDP of 0.3% in the March quarter was one third the OECD average.
International comparisons, real GDP growth, March quarter
The treasurer has scheduled an economic update, which will include the result of a review of the JobKeeper program.
Asked whether it could be referred to as a mini-budget, he said it could be.
One of the earliest observational studies occurred nearly 1,000 years ago in China. The 1061 Atlas of Materia Medica (Ben Cao Tu Jing) was compiled and edited by Song Su, a renowned scientist, administrator, diplomat and military strategist.
[…] to evaluate the effect of genuine Shangdang ginseng, two persons were asked to run together. One was given the ginseng while the other ran without. After running for approximately three to five li [about 1,500-2,500 metres], the one without the ginseng developed severe shortness of breath, while the one who took the ginseng breathed evenly and smoothly.
This observational study is also the first recorded example of a control group.
A control group can be patients who are not treated at all, patients who receive a standard treatment compared to a new one, or patients who receive a placebo (a treatment or substance designed to have no therapeutic effect).
Having a control group is one of the cornerstones of modern clinical trials.
An example of a control group in COVID-19 research is this recent study. People with diabetes hospitalised for COVID-19 were divided into those receiving the drug metformin and those not receiving it (the control group).
Back to ginseng. Today, it is a popular herbal remedy. As to whether it improves stamina, a recent review found some evidence ginseng might help men with erectile dysfunction.
Rhubarb in 18th-century England
Rhubarb roots have been used as a laxative for more than 5,000 years, including in 18th-century England.
Caleb Parry, an English physician working in Bath, wanted to know whether locally grown rhubarb was as good as the more expensive Turkish variety.
In 1786, he ran a study in which he switched the type of rhubarb he gave to each patient at different times. He then compared each patient’s symptoms while eating each type of rhubarb. He concluded there was no advantage in using the Turkish version.
This is the first published example of a crossover trial (a study where the participants receive each treatment at different times).
Beriberi, a disease that can have lasting effects on the nervous system and heart, was common in Southeast Asia in the early part of the 20th century.
In 1905 a beriberi outbreak occured at the Kuala Lumpur Lunatic Asylum. At that time William Fletcher was the district surgeon. He realised the outbreak provided an excellent opportunity to run an experiment (which we now know is just a bit unethical).
Each patient was assigned a number. Those with even numbers were sent to one ward and given brown unpolished rice to eat. Those with odd numbers went to another ward and given white polished rice.
At the end of the experiment, 15% of the patients who ate the white rice died of beriberi; none given brown rice died.
This is a very early example of randomisation in a clinical trial, where one group is chosen at random to receive a treatment.
Randomisation is another very important factor in good clinical trial design.
Today we know beriberi is caused by a deficiency in thiamine (vitamin B1) and a white rice diet is deficient in thiamine.
Tuberculosis and the randomised controlled trial
Sir Austin Bradford Hill, an English epidemiologist and statistician, conducted the first randomised controlled trial in 1948. The trial was was to treat the lung disease tuberculosis.
Bradford Hill decided whether a patient should be treated with the antibiotic streptomycin plus bed rest, or bed rest alone, by using a table of random numbers.
The investigators didn’t know which patient got each treatment; details were in sealed envelopes. Patients were not told they were in a trial.
Using sealed envelopes is an example of what we now call allocation concealment. Making sure neither investigators nor patients know which treatment they are receiving is called blinding. These are now standard features of randomised controlled trials.
Randomised controlled trials are the “gold standard” of clinical trial designs, due to the use of both a control group and randomisation.
Decades later, researchers have used a randomised controlled trial to test the drug ruxolitinib in patients with severe COVID-19.
So, although Bradford Hill conducted the first randomised controlled trial, it was based on hundreds of years of people working out why things like a control group and randomisation are so important.
As bushfires blackened forests last summer, one tree species was protected by a specialist team of firefighters: the Wollemi pine.
These trees have a deeply ancient lineage dating back to when dinosaurs walked Gondwana 100 million years ago. Back then, rainforests – including Wollemi pines (or their cousins) – covered what became Australia.
So when a handful of Wollemi pines were discovered alive in 1994 on the brink of extinction, it caused a frenzy of interest that has barely died down among plant enthusiasts.
Today, fewer than 100 mature pines are left in the wild. But their exact location is one of the best kept secrets in Australian plant conservation, to protect them from pathogens such as the root-rotting phytophthora that might hitch a ride on human visitors.
But while rare in nature, our ongoing research with citizen scientists is finding Wollemi pines grow in backyards all over the world, in a range of environments, and this information can inform how we can protect them in the wild.
From Gondwana to the garden
The Wollemi pine is considered the iconic poster-child for plant conservation. It’s an unusual-looking plant – each wild tree has many trunks covered in bark resembling bubbling chocolate and branches of lime or grey-green fern-like leaves. And in the wild, they grow to more than 40 metres tall.
The species is a member of the southern conifer family Araucariaceae, and its cousins include the monkey puzzle tree and the Norfolk Island pine. While considered a rainforest tree, many remaining in the wild exist between rainforest and dry eucalypt woodland, on the ledges of a sandstone gorge.
One of the first strategies was cultivation. Horticultural scientists at the Australian Botanic Garden Mount Annan (Sydney) worked out how to propagate the species so it could be grown and enjoyed in gardens, reducing the risk of illegal visitation in the wild.
After the Australian Botanic Garden established a basic “insurance population” of plants propagated from the wild trees, some of the first cultivated Wollemi pines were distributed to botanic gardens in Australia and overseas, including in the UK’s Royal Botanic Gardens Kew.
In 2005, Wollemi pines were auctioned to the public at a Sothebys Auction. Since then, they’ve been exported to many nurseries around the world, and now grow in many public and private gardens.
I spy a Wollemi pine
When plants are very rare in the wild, or are very restricted in their distributions, conservation away from the site (ex situ) can play an important role in their survival.
This includes seed banking, translocation (establishing new populations of rare plants in new locations) and cultivation for the nursery trade.
Enter our I Spy A Wollemi Pine project. Fifteen years after the Wollemi pine became available for sale, our study asks people to report where Wollemi pines are growing in gardens across the world.
So far, results from the online survey have revealed the species grows across 27 different countries, from Australia to Russia, and the UK to Peru.
The tallest trees so far – stretching to 7 metres tall (though dwarfed by their wild counterparts) – have been reported from the UK. To date, 987 people have contributed data about Wollemi pines.
What we can learn
Reading comments from survey participants – from “Has survived minus 10 degrees” to “I just love it” – has been a source of interest and joy for us researchers.
When the survey is finished, we’ll analyse the responses to understand what influences the growth of this species, such as different climates and soils.
Knowing how Wollemi pines grow in other parts of the world will provide gardening tips for home growers, but more importantly it will inform future conservation efforts in the wild in the face of climate change.
For example, this research will provide information on what environments the Wollemi pine can tolerate. We’re discovering the hottest, coldest, wettest and driest places on earth this species can survive in.
This information can help us find places to establish new populations of Wollemi pines. It may also provide clues on the evolutionary history of this species and how it managed to survive multiple ice ages and other dramatic climate changes in deep history.
Conservation with cultivation
Conserving Wollemi pines in backyards is not quite the same as Wollemi pines in the wild – in the same way its important to have pandas in the wild, and not just in zoos. But using cultivation for conservation does mean these species have much greater distribution today than they have ever had in the past.
In fact, this isn’t the first time a rare tree has ended up in gardens. The dawn redwood, thought to be extinct in the wild, was rediscovered in China in the 1940s and can now be found in gardens across the world.
And the internet is a great place to foster conservation. In online forums, people share every stage of their Wollemi babies’ growth, from seed germination to pine cone production.
This love and connection to Wollemi pines might even help address “plant blindness”: the propensity for people to see, recognise and focus on animals rather than plants, despite plants being central to providing us with food, the air we breathe and our climate.
So, as more species are threatened with extinction every day, everyone’s actions – even in their own backyards or online – can make a difference.
If you have a Wollemi pine in your backyard, or know of a Wollemi pine in a park or garden, and would like to get involved in our citizen science survey, please click here.
You probably know the details of the death of George Floyd. He was a doting father and musician. He was killed when a police officer, Derek Chauvin, knelt on his neck for nearly nine minutes while he cried out “I can’t breathe!”
Do you know about David Dungay Jr? He was a Dunghutti man, an uncle. He had a talent for poetry that made his family endlessly proud. He was held down by six corrections officers in a prone position until he died and twice injected with sedatives because he ate rice crackers in his cell.
At the end of a long inquest that stretched to almost four years, the coroner declined to refer the officers involved in Dungay’s death to prosecutors (who might consider charges) or to disciplinary bodies.
Paul Silva, Dungay’s nephew and among the his most powerful advocates for justice, said as he was leaving court,
What am I meant to do now? Go home, look at the ground. Tell my Uncle? — Sorry, Unc, there’s no justice here!‘
When I heard [George Floyd] say ‘I can’t breathe’ for the first time I had to stop … My solidarity is with them because I do know the pain they are feeling. And as for the Aboriginal deaths in our backyard … it’s not in the public as much as it should be.
A perception Indigenous deaths in custody are expected
Many people on this continent know more about police and prison violence in the US, another settler colony, than the same violence that happens here. Both are deserving of our attention and action, so what’s behind the curious silence on First Nations deaths in custody in Australia?
Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people have raised this concern long before today in the media and social media.
Why do we have to? The reasons are complex, but boil down to a system of complicity and perceived normality in Indigenous deaths at the hands of police and prisons. The settler Australian public simply does not see Indigenous deaths in custody as an act of violence, but as a co-morbidity.
The choice of language is important: it evokes a certain response in the reader and shapes our understandings of events. In the case of Palm Island, the often-repeated meta-narrative of so-called ‘dysfunctional’ and ‘lawless’ Aboriginal communities served to justify further acts of colonial violence.
In my 2018 pilot study on a sample of 134 Indigenous deaths in custody since the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody, I found coroners considered referring just 11 deaths to prosecutors and only ended up referring five. Of those, only two made it to court and both resulted in quashed indictments or acquittals.
These are monumental figures. They are also stories of deep systemic complicity, both before and after death. And they are full lives, with loved ones who mourn and fight for them.
Aunty Tanya Day, for instance, campaigned for justice for her uncle who died in custody and later died in custody herself.
The scale of devastation is unthinkable – and violent, and racist.
What makes Australian silence about deaths in custody so especially bizarre is that, unlike the US, we have a mandatory legal review of every death in custody or police presence. Each case, regardless of its circumstances, goes before a judge called a coroner.
Just as public political will is always changing, so is law and legal strategy. Compared to the campaigns for justice for black people killed by police in the US, which have made relative gains, many families here are working in a complex space of honouring their loved ones, proper cultural protocols around death and the dead, and securing CCTV footage to mobilise the public for justice.
Coroners have offered mixed responses, and each state and territory’s coroner approaches the question in a slightly different way.
After the death of Ms Dhu, a Yamatji woman, in police custody in Western Australia in 2014, persistent advocacy from the families and media organisations prompted the coroner to release footage of her treatment before her death. Coroner Ros Fogliani did so
in order to assist with the fair and accurate reporting of my findings on inquest.
However, last year, NSW deputy coroner Derek Lee initially declined to release footage showing the circumstances of Dungay’s death, citing cultural respect, sensitivity for his family and secrecy over prison procedures.
Members of Dungay’s family, who had applied to have it released, responded with exasperation. It was eventually shown on the opening day of the inquest, although the fuller footage requested by the family remains suppressed from public view.
Other ways families are silenced
There are other transparency issues that give a legal structure to silence about Indigenous deaths in custody. Recently, there appears to be a new push in non-publication or suppression orders being sought by state parties in coroners courts.
In Dungay’s inquest, for instance, the media was ordered not to publish the names, addresses or any other identifying features (including photographs) of 21 NSW corrections staff members.
There have been other suppression orders in deaths in custody matters before criminal courts, such as the identity of the officer facing a murder charge in the death of Yamatji woman Joyce Clarke in Western Australia last year.
Officers in South Australia are also going to some strategic effort to avoid testifying before the inquest into the death of Wayne Fella Morrison, a Wiradjuri, Kookatha and Wirangu man, or even speak with investigators on the grounds of penalty privilege.
investigations surrounding the cause of death in prisons can have a great impact for our grieving families to at least get an account of what happened to our loved ones in the absence of our care. It can also raise the spotlight on the behaviours of correctional and police officers – like those that piled atop of my brother’s body.
Outside of coroners courts, there is the threat of subjudice contempt, when media coverage may pose a prejudicial threat to a potential trial.
This carries a risk for families who speak out about their loved one’s deaths in a way that even implies something happened or someone did something. Subjudice contempt poses liability to them personally when they speak out, but also could jeopardise their push for justice.
This puts First Nations peoples at the mercy of what can be raised before a jury, judge or coroner. With lengthy procedural delays, this can also mean a case is hard to talk about publicly for years.
This is problematic given that timely publicity about deaths in custody is what drives attention. Taleah Reynolds, the sister of Nathan Reynolds, who died in custody in NSW in 2018, said,
We’re coming up to a year since he died and we still don’t know anything more.
I feel like they don’t have any remorse; they hide behind the system. No one’s held accountable, that’s the most frustrating part.
All of this leaves our public discourse full of blak bodies but curiously empty of people who put them there.
The power of public campaigning
Prosecution or referral seems to come only from cases where First Nations families have strong public advocacy and community groundswells behind them and strategic litigation resources (not just inquest legal aid).
As the late Wangerriburra and Birri Gubba leader Sam Watson said of the campaign for justice for the death of Mulrunji Doomagee on Palm Island:
Unfortunately, the government had to be dragged to this point screaming and kicking every inch of the way. Every time there’s been a breakdown in the procedure, the family and community on Palm Island are being subjected to more trauma, drama and unnecessary grandstanding by politicians.
Right now, three deaths are either before prosecutors or in their early stages of prosecution. All have been part of growing, public campaigns driven by their families and communities — although many others, like Dungay’s family, have done the same and still been faced with institutional complicity.
Clearly, there is much legal structure that supports this silence, but the basis of the silence itself is colonisation and white supremacy. As Amy McQuire writes:
Their wounds also testify to this violence. But while this footage has been important for mobilising Aboriginal people, non-Indigenous Australia is still complacent and apathetic.
They are not ‘outraged’ because they are not ‘shocked’. There is nothing shocking about racist violence perpetrated by police, because it is normalised.
When we do hear about the Indigenous lives lost in custody, it is undoubtedly because of the persistence, expertise and courage of their families and communities who mourn them. But it is not enough to hear about justice, justice must be done.
Here is a line from the latest safety advisory for reporters issued by the US-based Committee for the Protection of Journalists (CPJ):
Taking into account the increased levels of violence and tactics used by both police and protesters, ballistic glasses, helmets, and stab vests should be worn. If there is a threat of live ammunition being used, then body armour should be considered.
It is the kind of advice I used to be given before going on assignment to places like Baghdad, Kabul or Mogadishu. But the CPJ is aiming its latest note at US-based reporters more used to covering city hall than documenting running battles between police and demonstrators. It is deeply troubling that an organisation usually advocating for reporters in violent autocratic regimes decides it now has to support those in its own backyard.
One organisation, Bellingcat, has been tracking assaults on journalists since the riots broke out over the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis last week. In the first four days of protests, its chief investigator counted more than 100 incidents. (The CPJ counts closer to 200.)
The 101st involved a Australian news crew from Channel Seven. They were beaten while filming outside the White House, as riot police used tear gas and batons to clear the peaceful protesters so President Donald Trump could walk across the street and hold a Bible in front of St John’s Church. (In a speech moments before, Trump had – without irony – declared, “I am your president of law and order”, and “an ally of all peaceful protesters”.)
The startling number of attacks on journalists does not appear to be an accident. Inevitably, anyone reporting in violent places risks being caught in crossfire. But the numbers suggest something more troubling.
although in some incidents it is possible the journalists were hit or affected accidentally, in the majority of the cases we have recorded the journalists are clearly identifiable as press, and it is clear that they are being deliberately targeted.
The police actions against journalists might seem futile in our social media age when everyone with a mobile phone has the power to act as a reporter, but that doesn’t stop individual cops from lashing out at those they see as actively monitoring them.
There does not appear to be a coordinated strategy. In the United States, policing is generally a state and city affair, so collusion seems unlikely. The CPJ’s Courtney Radsh said the organisation’s experience of tracking violence towards journalists in some of the world’s most hostile regimes shows that the police step up their attacks when they believe they can get away with it.
In the US, the president himself has frequently derided journalists as “the enemy of the people”, who peddle “fake news”, and on Sunday he issued a tweet describing them as “truly bad people with a sick agenda”.
There is no doubt some journalists have behaved unethically or been loose with the facts, and the news business more broadly has not always covered itself in glory.
But as imperfect as it may be, it remains a vital part of the way a free and open democracy works. It acts as a watchdog on behalf of voters, monitoring the behaviour of institutions like the police and government who are supposed to be acting in the interests of the public.
In so many cases in the protests, journalists have clearly identified themselves verbally, with accreditation, with vests labelled “press”, carrying professional-standard cameras, and by their actions, observing rather than participating in the protests. That observation is rarely comfortable for those in authority, but it is a necessary part of the system.
As a recovering journalist and press freedom advocate, I am of course concerned about assaults of my colleagues. But to be clear, this is not about them. What we are seeing in the United States is an attempt to make the public blind to heavy-handed police tactics.
The founding fathers of the United States understood that when they wrote the First Amendment into its Constitution, guaranteeing “congress shall pass no law … abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press”. (The First Amendment also guarantees freedom of religion, the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.) Attack the press, and you attack the very system that has made places like the US and Australia among the safest and most prosperous in the world.
The reason autocrats in Turkey, the Philippines and Egypt throw journalists in prison with such enthusiasm is because they know a free media empowers the public, and threatens their survival.
If Trump is the patriot he claims to be, he will honour the Constitution and defend the press rather than accuse reporters of “doing everything within their power to foment hatred and anarchy”.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Patrick Locke, Research Associate, LCT Centre for Knowledge-Building, Department of Sociology and Social Policy, University of Sydney
Prime Scott Morrison last week outlined a plan to create jobs and revitalise the economy post COVID-19. Part of this so-called Jobmaker plan includes an overhaul of the “bewildering”, “unresponsive” and “fundamentally flawed” skills sector.
Morrison’s reforms are based on Steven Joyce’s 2019 review of Australia’s vocational education and training (VET) system, of which all recommendations were accepted by the federal government.
But actors in the sector may be sceptical of the “overhaul” based on their experience of past changes. Reforms in 2014 were similarly aimed at making VET more responsive to industry needs and cutting red tape, all the while pulling funding from the sector.
The end result was a substantial contraction of the sector, as well as significant rorting by private organisations.
What’s happened since the last reforms?
Governments from both parties have introduced 33 significant sector reforms since 1998. And the Coalition has made a number of attempts to reorganise VET since being elected in 2013.
The sector has also shrunk. Between 2013 and 2018 total full-time equivalent student hours decreased by 30% – while total student numbers decreased from 1.9 million to fewer than 1.1 million.
Apprenticeships were particularly impacted by the changes. While 214,000 apprentices completed their training in 2013, this went down to 89,000 in 2018. This was accompanied by a substantial drop in financial support from government – from A$6.8 billion to A$5.3 billion.
Meanwhile, efforts to decrease regulation to make the sector more responsive to the market resulted in substantial rorts by private providers, who greatly tarnished the reputation of the sector as a whole.
How Morrison’s reforms compare
Morrison’s disparaging rhetoric towards VET harks back to federal industry minister Ian Macfarlane’s attempts at reform in 2014, when he aimed to update a “fractured, unwieldy and overly bureaucratic” sector to be “streamlined and effective”.
Morrison outlined three key problems to overcome in the VET system. First, the system is too complex and unresponsive to industry demand. Second, it does not offer clear information about the skills needed for the future. And third, the system is inconsistent between states and there is poor accountability over how money is spent.
To solve these problems, the government will establish pilot Skills Organisations to “enhance the […] leadership of industry in the skills pipeline”, by giving industry more control over the contents of qualifications.
These organisations are reminiscent of Macfarlane’s 2014 Industry Skills Councils. These were aimed at giving industry “the freedom to design the type of training they’re after”.
Given this still a recurring issue, it appears previous efforts to give industry more voice in training package design have not achieved their goals.
Morrison also announced the establishment of the National Skills Commission to provide a countrywide view of Australia’s skills needs and coordinate state VET activities.
This draws from another past VET reform. Paul Keating established the Australian National Training Authority in 1992. It had a very similar remit to this new skills commission but was dissolved by the Howard government in 2005.
A final feature Morrison’s skills overhaul shares with its predecessors is a lack of commitment to increasing funding to the sector. Morrison said he wanted to better target A$1.5 billion of federal funding to the sector, rather than committing to providing additional financial support.
Stay-at-home orders and the economic crisis have increased the burden of energy costs on lower-income Australians. Poor housing quality and unequal access to home energy efficiency are hurting our most vulnerable households. With the next stage of the national recovery program expected to include cash grants for home renovation, now is the time to turn to housing retrofits that support health and well-being as well as boost jobs.
Laundry temperatures of 60-90°C are needed to limit the spread of the coronavirus. But this conflicts with common energy-saving advice of washing clothes in cold water. Self-isolation also means heating more and not being able to close off unused rooms.
When people on low incomes live in such housing, they are doubly disadvantaged by the challenges of needing more energy and not being able to afford it. Households with older people, people with chronic illness and children are particularly susceptible to energy stress and poor health outcomes.
However, bill payment will only be postponed until the end of July. Much of the expensive heating period will still be ahead of us. And after that households will face the costs of cooling homes in summer.
Energy debts are going to accumulate as a burden to low-income households into the future. Energy retailers might find it ethically difficult to resume disconnections, but customers will have to repay their debts. This will only be possible if their overall financial position improves and/or the cost of their energy decreases.
Income support via energy concessions can ease bill stress. However, taxpayer money may be better spent on providing sustained relief by improving the energy performance of homes. Acknowledging housing as essential infrastructure would enable economic and social progress.
A long-term stimulus package for retrofits would be welcome. The focus should be on comprehensive retrofitting to reduce energy demand, thus helping households to repay debt. Comprehensive or “deep retrofits” combine simple activities such as draught proofing with insulating ceilings, floors and walls, upgrading heating and cooling appliances, and installing solar PV systems.
Riding the current wave of home improvements, innovative retrofit initiatives may guide people in their DIY efforts. However, some training for proper DIY installation and the use of skilled tradespeople for technical installations is needed for safety and quality.
Putting people at the centre of retrofitting programs will provide healthier homes and help tackle unemployment. This means providing retrofit assistance to those who need it most and training people in retrofit skills.
Previously, the boom in new housing construction inhibited retrofitting. This might change following the COVID-19 crisis. A long-term retrofit program would be an opportunity to upskill builders and to retrain newly unemployed Australians, particularly the young people who have been most affected by job losses. An expanded retrofit workforce is needed to reach the large number of inefficient homes.
So-called “Green Deals” have already been proposed in Europe, the US and the UK. Green construction stimulus packages in Australia have successfully supported economic recovery before. The aim should be to spawn a new industry of energy-efficient builders who will continue to contribute to the upgrade and upkeep of Australian housing. This could help cut greenhouse gas emissions, promote public health and improve our resilience to crises.
A nationwide stimulus package to provide healthier and more energy-efficient homes would help the most vulnerable and boost the economy.
The number of Australians working from home has soared during the COVID-19 crisis. Latest data from the Australian Bureau of Stastistics shows 46% of the workforce worked from home in late April and early May.
By comparison, the bureau’s 2019 data showed slightly less than a third saying they “regularly worked from home” – a number likely inflated by those catching up on work from the office.
For many this has been the first real taste not just of full time teleworking, but any flexible working arrangements – something that under minimum employment laws remain a privilege for a select few.
But it will be important for all organisations to keep extending flexible working arrangements to as many staff as possible as we move to the next phase of our COVID-19 response.
While social distancing rules are now relaxing, until there’s a vaccine we still need work flexibility for as many people as possible. To ease, for example, morning and afternoon congestion in central business districts and on public transport.
Over the past few months we’ve been been part of a research team looking at how organisations have coped with the abrupt shift to remote work. Our findings are promising. But they also highlight a deficiency in Australia’s national employment standards, which do little to encourage employers embracing flexible working arrangements.
Still more a privilege than a right
Your rights to flexible working arrangement are likely to be set out most strongly in your favour in an enterprise agreement. Or, if you don’t have one of those, an industry award. Or possibly an individual contract. Provisions will differ.
If you aren’t covered by any of those, you’re out of luck.
The right to flexible working arrangement set down in the National Employment Standards – the minimum entitlements employers must give all employees – is no right at all.
Some employees who have worked for the same employer for at least 12 months can request flexible working arrangements, such as changes to hours, patterns or locations of work.
To even have the right to make that request, you must also:
be the parent or carer of a child who is school-aged or younger
have a disability, or be a carer
be 55 years and older
be experiencing violence from a family member, or supporting family or household members experiencing family violence.
If you meet these criteria, you have the right to receive a response to your request within 21 days. If your request is rejected, your employer must detail the reasons for the refusal, “including the business grounds”.
What constitutes “reasonable business grounds” is broad. It includes your employer deciding your request:
is too costly
can’t be made to fit with the working arrangements of other employees
“would not be practical” to accommodate
will result in a “significant loss of productivity” or “significant negative impact on customer service”.
The Fair Work Commission does have the power to adjudicate a complaint about an employer’s grounds for refusing a request. But according to the Fair Work Ombudsman:
This generally only happens if the parties to the dispute have agreed in an employment contract, enterprise agreement or other written agreement for that to occur.
Tracking the transition
The COVID-19 pandemic has provided us and our colleagues at Curtin University with an opportunity to see how organisations have managed with a big shift to teleworking.
These arrangements they might easily have been rejected previously on “reasonable business grounds”.
Our research involved interviewing 34 human resources and industrial relations managers and implementers. They worked for organisations that included a hospital, a school, a financial services company, and multiple mining companies, government departments and not-for-profit organisations. Their employee numbers ranged from as few as five to as many as 60,000.
We interviewed them between April and May to see how their organisations coped with the move. Thirty said they were unprepared for such a large-scale transition. Yet after four weeks, 27 were enthusiastic about the benefits and wanted flexible work arrangements to continue.
As the senior human resource advisor of a mining company, put it:
I don’t have kids and before I did not think about working from home. Now I would like to do it at least for one day a week and definitely see I can 100% get my work done from home.
Amending the Fair Work Act
Our findings suggest employers have little to fear from strengthening flexible working arrangements in the National Employment Standards.
The onus on employees to prove the “business grounds” for employers’ refusal should be eased. The Fair Work Act should be amended so all employees can have access to challenge a refusal for flexible work arrangements.
Greater flexibility is both possible and productive for most workplaces. Now it’s also in a wider social interest.
The authors would like to acknowledge the work of their colleagues John Burgess, Eileen Aitken Fox, Amy Tian, Jane Coffey and Chahat Guptar in contributing to the research.
When things go wrong with economic life, it’s easy to blame economics; that is, the academic discipline called ‘economics’. We all live economic lives, and use metaphors to give meaning to that amorphous thing we call ‘the economy’ and to our individual places within it. Shared metaphors within a society constitute a cultural mindframe.
The most important of these metaphors in our pan-western society is that of ‘making money’; thus, the economic purpose of life is to ‘make money’, with ‘money’ being a metaphor for ‘wealth’. Another metaphor – with both positive and negative connotations – is ‘economic growth’. Other culturally-laden economic metaphors with multiple meanings include ‘globalisation’ and ‘flat tax’.
We inform our lives through cultural metaphors; abstractions – largely unexamined (to an extent, unexaminable) abstractions – that exist to a large extent in the subconscious areas of our brains. It is not uncommon for these metaphors to have unreal – sometimes magical – qualities. We assume that money ‘doesn’t grow on trees’, without having much idea where it does grow. We also assume that money is completely convertible, meaning that a certain amount of money can be readily converted – now or in the future – into something else (such as a haircut or a toaster).
Economists, while trained in their social scientific discipline, are not exempt from the cultural metaphors that they grew up with. Thus, professional economists wear two hats, the one they grew up with, and the one that reflects their economics’ education. (We note that ‘hat’ is a good example of a metaphor; indeed a magical metaphor, in that we may ascribe a person’s current behaviour and language to a set of values or protocols that have supposedly been infused into an article of clothing.)
Economists, when being economists, by definition, wear their economists’ hats. But, for the most part, they do not take off their cultural hats; hats infused with western middle-class cultural metaphors.
Educated people with minimal economics’ training will largely interpret the economic aspects of their lives through the economic mindframe they grew up with, to a greater or lesser extent ameliorated by the extent to which they are willing to apply critical analysis to the metaphors and assumptions that makeup that mindframe. Trained engineers will generally interpret economic life a little differently from trained botanists, who in turn will interpret economic life a little differently from trained dentists. Each educational discipline – including economics – will modify but never overturn the predominant cultural mindframe.
In any society at any point in time (eg ‘western society’ in the early 21st century) there will be a mindframe that is shared by most of the people most of the time, and all of the people some of the time. Mindframes are cultural DNA, with the memes being the mutable fragments of such DNA.
Culture is not static. New generations will pick up new memes, which may to a greater or lesser extent erode cultural metaphors which have directed their parents’ lives. Nevertheless, some cultural metaphors – such as the ‘making money’ metaphor – are very difficult to unlearn. Much of the cultural understandings of the way the world works – including evolution of our understandings of how economic life works – is a generational process. Processes of mindframe change, while inherently slow, may quicken in ‘interesting times’ (another metaphor).
While generational mindframe changes may constitute progress – meaning new memes giving more helpful (or less unhelpful) ways of interpreting our information and our experiences – progress cannot be guaranteed when new ideas and new assumptions take root. Evolution can bring about regressive as well as progressive change.
An important meme that is growing in currency is the anti-economics meme. While I think this is a dangerous meme, it is true that many economists inadvertently facilitate the spread of anti-economics, with the ‘economic growth’ metaphor being the principal focus of an increasingly strident anti-economics.
In addition to anti-economics, there is something else which I call anti-economism, and which is practiced by heterodox economists. This indeed where I fit, but only if we carefully distinguish anti-economism from anti-economics. Economism is orthodox cultural economics, and is widely adhered-to by politicians, bureaucrats, business leaders, journalists, career academics, and economists employed within this power nexus. (Two points to note. One. Economists who are self-employed but dependent on the power nexus for contracts will tend to adhere to economism. Two. It is important to make a distinction between ‘career academics’ and ‘intellectuals’, even though many intellectuals have academic careers.)
Economists who practice economism wear two hats – a disciplinary hat and a cultural hat. The danger is that, when critics target economists, they target the wrong hat; they target economics when they should be targeting economic culture. Anti-economism should be a resistance to endemic economic culture, which is a mindframe embedded in the societies which economists belong to; a resistance too easily treated as an opposition to economics itself. Thus – to use a familiar metaphorical phrase – those who subscribe to anti-economism run the risk of ‘throwing out the (disciplinary) baby with the (cultural) bathwater’. There is much that existing economics – and the history of economics – has to offer those who see economism as a major problem of our age.
Framing and Doughnuts
“Everybody’s saying it: we need a new economic story, a narrative of our shared economic future that is fit for the twentyfirst century. (Kate Raworth, Doughnut Economics, p.12)
I am in the process of reading Doughnut Economics, by heterodox economist Kate Raworth. At the moment, my reading of this book is on pause, because I want to write here about my first impressions. (I look forward to finishing the book.)
The main introductory chapter of Doughnut Economics is an insightful discussion of economic iconography and framing. Yet it introduces a metaphor – the doughnut – that I think doesn’t work. Generally, the book’s promise of a new economics makes it an example of anti-economism that targets the wrong ‘hat’; though in a credible and insightful way.
What is particularly insightful is Raworth’s understanding of the need for an unlearning process to accompany a process of inculcating new disciplinary understandings of how economies work. She refers to cultural mindframes as ‘stowaway intellectual baggage’ (p.15). And (p.22), in her discussion on ‘framing’ (linked to sociologist Erving Goffman), she refers to Thomas Kuhn – author of the 1962 book, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions – and his use of his expression ‘community paradigm’.
She then cites economist John Maynard Keynes (1883-1946), who wrote of his:
“… struggle to escape from familiar modes of thought and expression … The difficulty lies not in the new ideas, but in the old ones which ramify, for those of us brought up as most of us have been, into every corner of our minds.”
Then Raworth says (p.23):
“There maybe no perfect frame waiting to be found but, argues the cognitive linguist George Lakoff, it is absolutely essential to have an alternative frame if the old one is ever to be debunked. Simply rebutting the dominant frame will, ironically, serve only to reinforce it.”
Thus creating new memes, if not entire new frames is important. To propose is more important than to oppose. The problem – if that’s the correct word – is that old frames may be better displaced than destroyed. They may not be all bad. The replacement of one entire mindframe with another is revolutionary change. Evolutionary change – albeit with punctuated moments of comparatively rapid change – may serve us better than revolutionary change. Further, if the target people (economists) are wearing two frames (‘hats’) – ‘frame’ is an alternative metaphor – we should carefully aim for the problem frame, and not the other one.
I first learned of ‘doughnut’ as a metaphor last century, as in ‘doughnut cities’, a metaphor for urban decay (ref: The Doughnut Effect, The Economist, 17/01/2002)
“The American donut, a sugary ring with an empty centre, is a fine metaphor for the rich suburbs around a collapsed inner city.”
This metaphor is partially compatible with Raworth’s, in that the centre is a bad place to be. Raworth wants us to vacate the centre and occupy the ring. The lesson of the original metaphor, though, is to renew (and reoccupy) the centre, in part because the ring has many problems of its own.
As I would (!), I find my pie metaphor more useful than the doughnut. (Also see references below.) Though pie charts do not compete with Raworth’s iconography – indeed many readers might find both her doughnut and my pie to be useful components of a new frame – my pie seeks to utilise economics rather than to overthrow it. (It seeks to show economics in new way, rather than to create a new economics.)
My pie has a relaxation ring around the outside (a good place to be), whereas Raworth’s doughnut has a hole on the inside (a place to escape from). Further pie charts can naturally expand – allowing for new sustainable ways of thinking about growth – rather than focussing on non-growth. Yet the pie, which allows for growth, does not require growth. The pie makes every place a good place. Raworth’s doughnut, on the other hand, seems more like a refuge, a sanctuary, a citadel.
I look forward to reading the rest of Doughnut Economics; indeed, Kate Raworth may win me over to the whole of her vision. I do hope, however, that her doughnut meme to rebut the framework of economics will not ‘backfire’ (another metaphor), and “reinforce” our dominant cultural mindframe of economic life.
Meanwhile, it would be nice to see people give more attention to what economic life is really all about – incomes, spending and relaxing – and less attention to the meaningless quest to make more money.
The death of African-American man George Floyd at the hands of police has sparked protests across the United States and inspired many people to reflect on our own history of police violence against Indigenous people in Australia and New Zealand.
As an infection prevention researcher, I am, of course, genuinely worried by the prospect of large crowds gathering. But I also completely understand why people want to go and make their feelings known on racism – not just in Australia and New Zealand, but internationally.
It is a clash when we are trying to manage covid-19 and puts us in a dilemma.
But I can’t stand and judge people who want to go.
– Partner –
Colleagues in the US who are so moved by what’s happening there are forgoing their social distancing and putting themselves and their colleagues at risk by attending the protests. For them, it is a personal decision and a risk they are prepared to take.
In New Zealand, Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern said while “I utterly understand” why people had marched, New Zealand had social distancing rules in place to protect people’s health – and the June 1 marches were “a clear breach of them”.
If we had one person, one person in that crowd, just think what could happen there because we’ve seen it before […] I understand the strength of feeling and I understand the sentiment and I understand that sense of urgency that everyone felt. But my job is to look after the country’s health as well.
NZ Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern says while she doesn’t want to stop peaceful protests, the June 1 Black Lives Matter protests across NZ were a “clear breach” of COVID-19 rules.
In Australia, people should remember many states have strict rules about public gatherings and it’s likely you’ll be breaching them if you attend a protest. In Victoria, there’s a limit of 20 people at an outdoor gathering. For NSW the limit is 10, while in Queensland the limit is 20.
Remember, coronavirus is spread via close contact, so you are significantly increasing your risk of infection if you are in a large crowd.
All that said, if you’re considering attending a protest, here are four things to think about
1. Is there another way I can show support? Given I’m an infection prevention researcher, working to prevent the spread of covid-19, I have to say this: if there is any other way you can show support, other than attending a mass gathering – whether that’s donating to a group doing good work, doing any sort of online protest or whatever option you can find – you should consider it.
Think about whether you yourself are at higher risk – by being older or immuno-compromised, for example – and whether there is a more sustainable way for you to support a movement you care about.
2. Think about how you’ll get there Plan your trip to and from the protest carefully. Avoid crowded public transport – consider driving or riding a bike if possible – and follow social distancing rules if you must travel by bus, train or tram.
Make sure you bring hand sanitiser and use it liberally. Wash hands as soon as you get home.
3. If you go, observe social distancing
If you’re in Australia, download and use the COVIDSafe app. Try as best you can to observe social distancing at any event you attend. That means staying at least 1.5 metres apart from everyone else (or 2 metres in New Zealand) whether you are standing in an open space or marching down a street.
Remember that coronavirus is spread by droplets released when people breathe, talk, cough, sneeze, sing or shout in close proximity to others. No hugging to demonstrate solidarity.
When you get lots of people together and emotions run high, things can go awry very quickly. I’d be prepared to leave the demonstration if I started to get concerned about the proximity of people around me. There’s a risk more people will turn up than you or the event organisers anticipated; if there are bigger crowds than expected, be prepared to make a decision to head home.
A mask alone will not protect you, they’re only one piece of the armoury and are only useful if you socially distance and wash hands as well. If you throw yourself into a situation where you are close to other people, a mask will not be enough to protect you or others.
4. Do not attend if you feel unwell or have any covid-19 symptoms This should go without saying: absolutely stay home, no matter how strongly you feel about the issue, if you have any symptoms, such as a sore throat or a cough.
Indigenous Australians are an at-risk demographic for covid-19, as are Māori and Pasifika, so you need to think carefully about the risk you may pose to others if you turn up while experiencing symptoms.
If there was to be a small cluster in one of these protests, and the virus was passed to an Indigenous community, the effects could be devastating.
If you feel that compelled to attend a demonstration, think about anything you can do to minimise the chances of spread, or you will undo the gains Australia and New Zealand have made in keeping the coronavirus spread under control.
As we have been cooped up at home during coronavirus lockdown, reports of image-based abuse have skyrocketed.
According to Australia’s eSafety Commissioner, it received more than 1,000 reports of image-based abuse between March and May 2020. This represents a 210% increase on the average weekly number of reports they received in 2019.
There was also a huge spike over the Easter weekend, where there was an almost 600% increase on usual reporting figures.
The problem is not limited to Australia. The United Kingdom has witnessed a similar increase, where its Revenge Porn Helpline says it has opened double the number of cases from the previous April.
What are we talking about?
Image-based abuse happens when an intimate image or video is created or shared without the consent of the person pictured. It can also involve threats to share images.
Though it is known colloquially as “revenge porn”, researchers and policymakers have rightly rejected that term. They use “image-based abuse” to better capture the harms of the non-consensual taking, sharing, or threat to share, nude or sexual images.
Why has there been an increase?
When we all entered lockdown, digital forms of communication and connection became central to our lives – and that includes our dating lives.
In lockdown, the exchange of nude and sexual images is likely to be a more common way to express our intimacy with another person. Unfortunately, this means perpetrators have greater access to victims’ images to threaten and abuse them.
Since lockdown, the eSafety Commissioner has also observed an increasing trend in people being blackmailed over their intimate images, as well as people trying to monetise their intimate content. This includes reports of sextortion scam emails, which eSafety Commissioner Julie Inman-Grant says, “scares people into paying cryptocurrency payments”.
COVID-19 has seen many people lose their jobs or income. So financial pressures could also be in play as more perpetrators look to exploit non-consensual nude or sexual images for financial or other material gain.
We also know that image-based abuse occurs in the context of domestic and family violence. Victims living in isolation with an abusive partner or family member may be particularly vulnerable to these harms.
According to the UK’s Revenge Porn Helpline, the majority of their increased reports came from victims experiencing image-based abuse by an abusive or controlling intimate partner.
Image-based abuse was already a widespread problem
Before the pandemic, our research found as many as one in three of those surveyed in Australia, the UK and New Zealand (aged 16 to 64 years) have experienced image-based abuse.
Women victims in particular reported greater harms and fear for their safety, as well as experiencing multiple forms of victimisation.
We also found one in six people surveyed reported they had been the perpetrator of image-based abuse.
Perpetration rates were highest among men in their 20s and 30s, with one in three men aged 20 to 29 years disclosing they had engaged in these behaviours.
There are laws against this
In Australia, we have specific laws across the country criminalising image-based abuse, except in Tasmania.
If you’re a victim of image-based abuse, you can document the evidence and report to police, and through the eSafety Commissioner’s online portal to request the images are removed. In over 90% of cases, the eSafety Commissioner is successful in image removal. You can also seek support from national helplines such as 1800 RESPECT.
But some victims find it difficult to come forward for help.
Many victims of image-based abuse report experiencing shame and humiliation. They often feel violated and exposed by the perpetrator’s actions.
It is sometimes friends or family who first see the images when they are distributed online. Sadly, victims can feel judged rather than supported by these vital social lifelines.
It’s not the victims’ fault
Too often we blame the victims. We ask why they took or sent images of themselves in the first place. But now, more than ever, it must be made clear that it is not the exchange of intimate images between consenting adults that is the problem.
It is the non-consensual taking, sharing or threatening to share these images that is wrong.
We need to educate the community about the seriousness of these non-consensual and criminal harms. And Australians need to know that they can take action.
As a community, we must challenge the attitudes that minimise the abuse, blame victims and make excuses for perpetrators.
We can do better as a community
The last National Community Attitudes Survey showed many Australians minimise image-based abuse and other forms of technology-facilitated abuse. As friends and family members, we can instead provide support to victims and let them know we do not blame them for someone else’s actions.
If we become aware someone is misusing intimate images without consent, we can and should call out their behaviour. As the current national Our Watch campaign says: “there is no excuse for abuse”.
It is vital that we take positive action as bystanders by supporting victims and challenging perpetrators if we are going to get ahead of this issue.
Particularly at a time when we are using technology in ways to consensually express our intimacy, in an otherwise quite isolated setting.
You can report image-based abuse to the eSafety Commissioner at esafety.gov.au
If you or someone you know is impacted by sexual assault or family violence, call 1800RESPECT on 1800 737 732 or visit www.1800RESPECT.org.au. In an emergency, call 000.
The Vanuatu Council of Ministers has agreed at its meeting held in Luganville, Santo, to postpone the hosting of the Pacific Islands Forum (PIF) Leaders Meeting due in August 2020, reports the Vanuatu Daily Post.
The decision followed the recommendations of the National Task Force based on the “uncertainty and the economic impacts” the country is facing with the covid-19 pandemic and recent Tropical Cyclone Harold.
Vanuatu has had no reported cases of covid-19.
The government has mandated the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to liaise with the Pacific Islands Forum Secretariat on the postponement.
The ministry will also negotiate with Fiji to seek a possibility for Vanuatu to host the meeting in 2021.
How many media analysts predicted it? In 2018 Australia’s Nine Entertainment absorbed Fairfax Media and its New Zealand subsidiary Stuff. Just under two years later chief executive Sinead Boucher bought Stuff from Nine for a dollar.
The bold move saved New Zealand’s largest newspaper publisher and online news site from uncertainty at best, closure at worst.
“Behold, Saint Sinead of Stuff”, wrote one observer, while pointing out what else would be needed: financial backing, government subsidies, and management of internal costs and debt.
Media commentators, public media lobbyists, journalists, Communications Minister Kris Faafoi and even Nine CEO Hugh Marks also praised Boucher’s proposals for staff shareholdings and an editorial independence charter.
But behind these signs of hope the Stuff initiative was emblematic of a rapidly disintegrating media system.
Here is the news: layoffs and closures
COVID-19 only accelerated the collapse. The national lockdown and forecast economic contraction have been commercially disastrous for all private media organisations. Redundancies and closures have gone viral.
In late March New Zealand Media and Entertainment (NZME), owner of the NZ Herald (the country’s largest daily paper) and nearly half the country’s commercial radio stations, closed its sports operation and shed 25 full-time staff.
A week later German-owned Bauer Media abruptly closed its New Zealand branch, folding such venerable current affairs and popular titles as the Listener, Woman’s Weekly, North & South and Metro.
A fortnight later NZME announced 200 more redundancies – 15% of its workforce. As Boucher announced her Stuff buyout, MediaWorks (owner of TV3 and the rest of New Zealand’s commercial radio stations) shed 130 staff.
Confronted by this unfolding catastrophe, the government finally announced a NZ$50 million emergency package. This included $21 million to offset TV and radio transmission fees for six months, $16.5 million to reduce contributions to the NZ On Air content funding agency for the financial year, and $11 million in targeted assistance for specific media companies.
But the response was late, partial and narrowly focused. COVID-19 has exposed a double crisis in New Zealand’s news media that short-term fixes do little to address.
A crisis over 30 years in the making
For decades the weakening sustainability of commercial media has damaged the viability of news reporting, journalistic enquiry and national media coverage. Meanwhile, underfunded public broadcasting has long battled to pay staff, create content and transition successfully to digital platforms.
These trends can be traced back to the 1980s. The restructuring of Radio New Zealand (RNZ) and Television New Zealand (TVNZ), the launch and subsequent sale of TV3, the privatisation of Telecom (1990) and the abolition of all restrictions on foreign media ownership (1991) set the scene for today’s crisis.
Transnational media conglomerates were allowed to colonise the national media scene. From 2007, listed and unlisted financial institutions (banks, hedge funds, private equity companies) acquired media holdings as short-term revenue streams. Concentration of ownership intensified.
At the same time, with the rise of Google and Facebook, television’s advertising share declined from 34% in 1988 to 21% in 2018. Before COVID-19, digital advertising was worth NZ$1 billion, about 40% of New Zealand’s entire advertising turnover. The pandemic’s economic shock has hit ad revenues even harder.
Print media were already haemorrhaging. From 2018 to 2019, every major newspaper lost circulation. NZME and Stuff continued to lay off staff, integrate newsrooms, delete print editions and close regional titles.
Stalling revenues, dashed profit expectations and fragile share prices persuaded major players that amalgamation was the answer. But this strategy failed. The Commerce Commission prevented attempted mergers between Sky TV and Vodafone, and NZME and Stuff, due to monopoly fears and the perceived risk to diversity of information sources.
There is a better way
So what is the answer? Nothing short of a full-blown news media reconstruction strategy.
First, the Stuff buyout deserves government support to complement private sector financial backing. A funding mechanism designed to foster public interest journalism at Stuff and other media organisations should be established.
Second, a national interest test for any overseas investment in New Zealand should apply to transnational media acquisitions. As media commentator Gavin Ellis has observed, “journalism [is] a strategic asset over which New Zealanders must have control”.
Third, existing government proposals for a TVNZ-RNZ merger within a new multi-platform entity need urgent development. The new organisation should insulate some of its operation from commercial pressures. A public service philosophy for the relevant stations, channels and platforms should be clearly stated and enshrined in legislation.
Here, I would include an online magazine of arts, current affairs and popular culture to succeed the Listener. The organisation’s board must be independent and representative, with informal links to the Māori Television Service.
Finally, as communications expert and public media lobbyist Peter Thompson has proposed, the government should impose a digital services levy on the tech giants that have siphoned off domestic advertising revenue without investing in local content. This would help generate the revenue to fund public interest journalism initiatives.
We know what to do. Now is the time to reconstruct journalism and public media in Aotearoa-New Zealand.
But, to reduce the risk of COVID-19 transmission, there’s one crucial ingredient missing: crowds.
To provide atmosphere in the absence of people, broadcasters are experimenting with canned crowd noise, much like the laugh tracks used in sitcoms. Last weekend the NRL unveiled its fake audience noise, drawing a mixed response from viewers.
But why do we care so much about crowd noise, and why do many of us feel we need it?
It’s because it bonds us with members of our tribe, provides us a sense of connection, and acts as a psychological cue for when to pay particular attention to the action, like a goal opportunity. Without it, sport just doesn’t seem as exciting.
Following a team brings a sense of connection with others who follow the same team. That sense of belonging is an incredibly powerful motivation for people – it drives our thoughts and our emotions. And following a team is an emotional experience. We share the highs when they win, and the lows when they lose.
Spectators may not even play the sport they watch, but still refer to “us” and “we” when talking about their team, and use “they” and “them” for the opposition. And when the crowd supporting our team is the one making all the noise, it drives home that sense of connection.
Crowd noise is a cue
For a couple of rounds of competition, before the COVID-19 suspension, we saw games of AFL where we could actually hear the players yelling to each other. When they scored, the only noise was from the players themselves. It sounded similar to watching an amateur match at the local park. Even the most tense moments, or heroic efforts, were somehow not as exciting without the crowd.
That’s because crowd noise is a cue for spectators. We know something exciting has happened when the crowd goes nuts. When a game comes down to the last few minutes, and the scores are very close, the crowd noise adds to the tension. When my team is getting cheered on, I share in the excitement with others like me – my tribe. It seems the broadcasters are reflecting this by increasing the volume of fake crowd noise during exciting moments.
Without crowd noise, we just don’t get the same level of excitement, because we’ve learned to link excitement with crowd noise. You can have the most amazing players, with so many things to cheer on, but the only noise you’re likely to hear will be from whoever is watching with you in the lounge room (and maybe your neighbour if they’re watching too).
If we’re not sharing the moment with everyone, we’re missing out on that sense of belonging.
Most teams have their own home ground, but in some cases, two or more teams might share a home ground. When they’re playing against each other, one team is still designated as home, and the other as away. Neither team has to travel far, and both teams are familiar with the stadium’s quirks, but the designated “home” team will have a more sympathetic crowd. A 2015 study used this exact scenario at the Staples Centre in Los Angeles to find that essentially the entire home advantage between two teams comes down to the crowd effect. So crowd noise can support players, and spur them on.
A 2010 study found referees used crowd noise as a cue when making decisions such as whether to give a yellow card for a foul.
The home crowd is more likely to be loud for fouls against their own team, rather than fouls their team has committed against the opposition. Because crowd noise is strongly associated with exciting action, and fouls are exciting, referees may not even be aware they’re using crowd noise as a cue. Further, they may just want to appease the home crowd.
Sport won’t be as exciting without crowds
I distinctly remember the moment when Nick Davis kicked that goal with 5 seconds to go to defeat the Geelong Cats and send the Sydney Swans into the 2005 grand final. The crowd went nuts and I loved sharing that moment with everyone. I belonged.
But if something like that happened this year, and there was no crowd to see it and cheer it on, would it be as exciting? I doubt it.
And that’s precisely why fake crowd noise is on TV. It might feel forced, and some people might not like it much, but at least there’s just a little bit more excitement with it. With any luck, we won’t have to worry about it for too long.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Abby Mellick Lopes, Associate Professor, Design Studies, Faculty of Design, Architecture and Building, University of Technology Sydney
Home cooks have been trying out their skills during isolation. But the way food tastes depends on more than your ability to follow a recipe.
Our surroundings, the peoplewe share food with and the design of our tableware – our cups, bowls and plates, cutlery and containers – affect the way we experience food.
For example, eating from a heavier bowl can make you feel food is more filling and tastes better than eating from a lighter one.
Contrast this with fast food, which is most commonly served in lightweight disposable containers, which encourages fast eating, underestimating how much food you’re eating, and has even been linked to becoming impatient.
These are just some examples of the vital, but largely unconscious, relationship between the design of our tableware – including size, shape, weight and colour – and how we eat.
In design, this relationship is referred to as an object’s “affordances”. Affordances guide interactions between objects and people.
…push, pull, enable, and constrain. Affordances are how objects shape behaviour for socially situated subjects.
Designed objects don’t make us do things.
The colour of your crockery
When you visit a restaurant, the chances are your dinner will be served on a plain white plate.
But French chef Sebastien Lepinoy has staff paint the plates to match the daily menu and “entice the appetite”.
Research seems to back him up. Coloured plates can enhance flavours to actually change the dining experience.
In one study, salted popcorn eaten from a coloured bowl tasted sweeter than popcorn eaten from a white bowl. In another, a café latte served in a coloured mug tasted sweeter than one in a white mug.
This association between colour and taste seems to apply to people from Germany to China.
A review of multiple studies conducted in many countries over 30 years finds people consistently associated particular colours with specific tastes.
Red, orange or pink is most often associated with sweetness, black with bitterness, yellow or green with sourness, and white and blue with saltiness.
The influence of plate size on meal portions depends on the dining experience and whether you are serving yourself. In a buffet, for example, people armed with a small plate may eat more because they can go back for multiple helpings.
Nonetheless, average plate and portion sizes have increased over the years. Back in her day, grandma used to serve meals on plates 25cm in diameter. Now, the average dinner plate is 28cm, and many restaurant dinner plates have expanded to 30cm.
Our waistlines have also expanded. Research confirms we tend to eat more calories when our plates are larger, because a larger capacity plate affords a greater portion size.
Plastic is too often ignored
The pace of our busy lives has led many people to rely on those handy takeaways in disposable plastic food containers just ready to pop into the microwave. And it’s tempting to use plastic cutlery and cups at barbecues, picnics and kids’ birthday parties.
In contrast to heavy, fragile ceramic tableware, plastic tableware is designed to be ignored. It is so lightweight, ubiquitous and cheap we don’t notice it and pay little mind to its disposal.
Plastics have also changed how we eat and drink. An aversion to the strong smell of plastic containers that once might have caused people to wrap their sandwiches before placing them in Tupperware seems to have disappeared. We drink hot coffee though plastic lids.
Australian economic sociologist Gay Hawkins and his colleagues argue lightweight, plastic water bottles have created entirely new habits, such as “constant sipping” on the go. New products are then designed to fit and reinforce this habit.
Aesthetics matter
Healthy eating is not only characterised by what we eat but how we eat.
For instance, eating mindfully – more thoughtfully and slowly by focusing on the experience of eating – can help you feel full faster and make a difference to how we eat.
And the Japanese cuisine Kaiseki values this mindful, slower approach to eating. It consists of small portions of beautifully arranged food presented in a grouping of small, attractive, individual plates and bowls.
This encourages the diner to eat more slowly and mindfully while appreciating not only the food but the variety and setting of the tableware.
Japanese people’s slower eating practices even apply to “fast food”.
One study found Japanese people were more likely to eat in groups, to stay at fast food restaurants for longer and to share fast food, compared with their North American counterparts.
Affordance theory is only now starting to account for cultural diversity in the ways in which designed objects shape practices and experiences.
The studies we have reviewed show tableware influences how we eat. Size, shape, weight, colour and aesthetics all play a part in our experience of eating.
This has wide implications for how we design for healthier eating – whether that’s to encourage eating well when we are out and about, or so we can better appreciate a tastier, healthier and more convivial meal at home.