Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Ingrid Piller, Professor of Applied Linguistics, Macquarie University

A growing number of people in Australia cannot speak English well or at all, over a million people.

– Senator Pauline Hanson, Senate speech, September 19, 2018

One Nation Party leader and Senator for Queensland Pauline Hanson is urging a rethink on Australia’s immigration policy, including changes to the “number and mix” of migrants coming to the country.

In a Senate speech, Hanson outlined a number of concerns she has with what she described as Australia’s “failed immigration policy”, including issues with social integration and the establishment of “culturally separate communities”.

The senator said a “growing number of people in Australia cannot speak English well or at all, over a million people”.

Is that right?

Checking the source

In response to The Conversation’s request for sources and comment, an advisor to Senator Hanson accurately cited Census data showing the number of people who self-reported they spoke English “not well” or “not at all” was 820,000 in 2016, up from 655,000 in 2011 and 560,000 in 2006.

To reach a calculation of “over a million people” in 2018, Hanson’s office:

• added 66,000 people to the 2016 Census results, based on the assumption that the growth in the number of people in this category would be the same between the 2016 and 2021 Census as it was between 2011 and 2016, and

• added a further 149,294 people to the 2016 results, based on the assumption that 10% of the 1,492,947 people who didn’t respond to the question in the Census about language proficiency did not speak English “well or at all”.

You can read the full response from Hanson’s office here.

Verdict

Senator Pauline Hanson said “a growing number of people in Australia cannot speak English well or at all, over a million people”.

The most up to date information available on this question comes from the 2016 Census. The data show that the number of people who self-reported speaking English “not well” or “not at all” in that year was 820,000.

Hanson was correct to say that number has been growing, from 560,000 people in 2006 to 820,000 people in 2016. This amounts to a rise from 2.8% of Australian residents in 2006 to 3.5% in 2016.

Over the same time, among people who speak a language other than English at home, the percentage of people who self-reported speaking English “not well” or “not at all” fell, from 17.5% in 2006 to 16.6% in 2016.

It’s important to keep in mind that self-reporting is not the most accurate measure. Some people will over-estimate their language capabilities, while others will under-estimate theirs.

What do the data show?

In its five-yearly Australian Census, the Australian Bureau of Statistics asks people who speak a language other than English at home to state how well they speak English.

Respondents can choose from four options: “very well”, “well”, “not well”, or “not at all”. The categories “not well” and “not at all” are reported together.

In the 2016 Census, 4.9 million people reported speaking a language other than English at home.

Of those people, the number of people who reported they spoke English “not well” or “not at all” was 820,000.

Hanson was correct to say the number of respondents who ticked the “not well” or “not at all” categories has been rising – from 560,000 people in 2006, to 655,000 people in 2011 and 820,000 in 2016.

But of course, the overall Australian population has also grown over that time. So let’s look at the numbers as a proportion of the broader Australian population. On this measure, it amounts to a rise from 2.8% of all Australian residents in 2006 to 3.5% in 2016.

Over the same time, the percentage of bilingual residents who reported speaking English “not well” or “not at all” fell slightly, from 17.5% in 2006 to 16.6% in 2016.

That means within the bilingual population, there was an improvement in perceived English language skills between 2006 and 2016.

Hanson said there were now “over a million” people in Australia who “cannot speak English well or at all”. There are two potential problems with the calculations made to come to this conclusion.

Firstly: the calculation assumes the same rate of growth in the number of people who speak English “not well” or “not at all” between 2016 and 2021 as it was between 2011 and 2016.

The number of people with little or no English language capability is largely a function of the overall migrant intake. As our overall migrant intake has increased, the absolute number of new arrivals with little or no English language capability has also increased.

However, since the 1990s, our migration program has become increasingly selective and the English language requirements for permanent residency have risen.

Second, the projected growth rate suggests that not speaking English well is an unalterable characteristic, and that new entrants with little English capability simply add to the existing number.

This assumption doesn’t account for the likelihood that many recent immigrants who responded that they did not speak English well or at all in the 2016 Census will have improved their English (or their confidence, or both) by 2021 and will respond that they speak English “well” or “very well” then.

How accurate are the data?

The Census data provide us with a rough guide to English language proficiency, but it’s not a particularly valid or reliable measure.

That’s because the judgements made in the survey are subjective. There’s no definition around what speaking English “well” or “not well” means. One person may overestimate their English proficiency, while another person may underestimate theirs.

As noted by the Australian Bureau of Statistics:

… one respondent may consider that a response of ‘Well’ is appropriate if they can communicate well enough to do the shopping, while another respondent may consider such a response appropriate only for people who can hold a social conversation.

As such, these data should be interpreted with care.

Self-assessment can be a valid tool in determining language proficiency. But for that to be the case, the questions need to be much more detailed and sophisticated.

So while we can state that 820,000 Australians reported speaking English “not well” or “not at all” in the 2016 census, it’s not possible to determine what that means in terms of their actual ability to communicate in their everyday lives.

Most bilingual residents speak English ‘well’ or ‘very well’

The vast majority of bilingual Australian residents report speaking English “well” or “very well” – more than 4 million out of 4.9 million.

Evidence of a certain level of English language proficiency is a visa requirement for most permanent migrants, and many temporary migrants. The key exceptions are humanitarian and family reunion migrants, whose reasons for admission supersede the immediate language requirements.

New citizens are also subject to an Australian citizenship test, which is an implicit English language test, requiring a certain level of English language proficiency to pass.

The number of people in Australia with little or no English language capability depends not only on the number and mix of new migrants admitted, but the English language training provisions made available to those people when they arrive. – Ingrid Piller

Blind review

I agree with the verdict of this FactCheck. The sources used and conclusions drawn are correct. – Amanda Muller

The Conversation’s FactCheck unit was the first fact-checking team in Australia and one of the first worldwide to be accredited by the International Fact-Checking Network, an alliance of fact-checkers hosted at the Poynter Institute in the US. Read more here.

Have you seen a “fact” worth checking? The Conversation’s FactCheck asks academic experts to test claims and see how true they are. We then ask a second academic to review an anonymous copy of the article. You can request a check at checkit@theconversation.edu.au. Please include the statement you would like us to check, the date it was made, and a link if possible.

– ref. FactCheck: do ‘over a million’ people in Australia not speak English ‘well or at all’? – https://theconversation.com/factcheck-do-over-a-million-people-in-australia-not-speak-english-well-or-at-all-101461

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Tim Langlois, Research Fellow in marine ecosystems, The University of Western Australia

The Western Australian government recently announced the controversial closure of commercial and recreation fishing to prevent a collapse in the populations of under-threat species, such as popular dhufish and pink snapper.

Fishing for these demersal (bottom dwelling) species has been closed along a 900-kilometre stretch of coastline in south-west WA. There are plans to reopen the area in spring 2027, but for recreational fishing only.

One additional measure stands out: once the fishery opens, large “no-take” demersal recovery zones are proposed where all bottom fishing will be banned.

While no-take zones are a key part of Australia’s conservation strategy, they are more often used to create marine parks, rather than to improve fisheries. Proposed no-take zones have been historically unpopular with fishers. But perhaps we can have our cake and eat it too. Does closing areas of ocean to fishing result in a boost to fish numbers inside the protected areas and in surrounding fishing grounds?

Our recent research suggests the answer is yes. Setting aside no-take areas of the ocean, combined with standard fisheries management in the areas still open to fishing, can increase overall numbers of spawning fish. This means greater catch rates for fishers in surrounding areas.

Building a digital reef

We focused on the population of spangled emperor fish – a golden-coloured fish prized by anglers – in the iconic Ningaloo World Heritage Area. Currently, 34% of Ningaloo is covered by no-take zones, the largest percentage for any region in Australia. These zones were created to protect the diversity of species and create natural areas for tourism, education and science.

Understanding if no-take areas actually benefit fisheries is a challenging task. To compare the effects of protection and closures with standard fisheries management, we built a computer model for the spangled emperor population at Ningaloo.

We divided the reef into more than 1,800 spatial “cells” and included information about habitat distribution, fish movement, reproduction, mortality rates and how much and where fishing was occurring.

The resulting model is a digital “twin” of the spangled emperor population at Ningaloo. It helped us try to answer the question: how best to conserve and manage this vital resource?

Exploring the possibilities

We explored several scenarios: what would happen with only standard fisheries management in place, compared with the addition of no-take zones or closing the area to fishing for five months. We also looked at what might have been achieved by combining all approaches.

The no-take zones delivered clear benefits, particularly by boosting the number of large mature fish and the number of offspring they produced. Closing the area for a five-month period was similarly effective for increasing fish abundance, but less so for large mature fish. Combining the two approaches resulted in a greater increase in large mature fish and replenishment of young fish.

Interestingly, our model predicted the addition of no-take zones resulted in recreational fishing catch rates doubling in open areas near where the fishers accessed the ocean (for example, within 10 kilometres of a boat ramp).

Bigger, older fish matter

Female fish of many species produce far more eggs as they grow larger. One big, older female can produce as many eggs as a dozen or more smaller adults. No‑take zones protect these large individuals, allowing them to survive longer and build up inside protected areas. Their offspring drift into surrounding waters, replenishing stocks and ultimately boosting catches for fishers.

These benefits are greatest for species that remain relatively local. Highly mobile species may require larger or connected no-take zones to achieve the same effect. In this way, no‑take zones help sustain healthy fish populations and fisheries.

Some in the fishing community have historically opposed protected areas, seeing the loss of access as negative. But when we talked to fishers at boat ramps around Australia, many supported protected areas and sensed what our model confirms: setting aside no-take zones can improve environmental outcomes.

Our research suggests strategic no-take zones – like those in the WA government’s announcement – along with effective management of fishing in other areas could replenish fish populations and increase catches.

We have consistently found that studying no-take zones provides a cost-effective way to understand fish habitat preference, their home-range size and how they spawn. This information will be key to designing no-take zones to protect fish spawning, recover populations and make fishing more sustainable.

– ref. Plummeting fish numbers triggered controversial fishing bans in WA. But no-take zones could benefit fishers – https://theconversation.com/plummeting-fish-numbers-triggered-controversial-fishing-bans-in-wa-but-no-take-zones-could-benefit-fishers-275797

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Owen Atkin, Director of the ANU Agrifood Innovation Institute, Australian National University

During Australia’s unprecedented heatwave in late January, air temperatures reached 50°C in inland South Australia.

Days of sustained heat and hot nights did real damage. A flying fox colony was all but wiped out in South Australia, while Western Australian mango growers suffered major crop losses as fruit literally boiled.

These increasingly extreme heatwaves are now posing a real threat to the crops and livestock on which we rely, as well as Australia’s wildlife and ecosystems.

But in coming decades, intensifying climate change will push summer temperatures beyond the records set this summer. Even after the world reaches net zero, unprecedented heatwaves will persist for centuries.

Most living things are strongly affected by heat. Sustained intense heat can degrade proteins inside plant and animal cells, cause cell membranes to rupture and disrupt metabolic processes essential to survival. That is, sustained heat can weaken and kill living things in many ways.

Everything in Australia has to cope with heat. But the continent’s wildlife and peoples are not prepared for the heat to come, or the changes this will force on natural ecosystems and food production.

We are not powerless. We could introduce more heat-tolerant plant species and engineer landscapes to create heat refuges. But we must plan for it.

Farms under threat

Australian farmers are already feeling the consequences. Wheat yields have stopped steadily increasing and have plateaued, due in part to more frequent heatwaves. Heat causes wheat to photosynthesise less and damages pollen in cereal crops, leading to less fertile seed and big falls in yields.

Heatwaves burn grape leaves, cutting grape yields and worsening wine quality. Almond growers are battling falls in photosynthesis, pollination and nut quality.

These threats are not hypothetical. Farmers are already grappling with the damage, while authorities see heat as a major threat to adapt to across the Riverland, Sunraysia and Mallee agricultural regions.

Heatwaves are driving ecosystems into decline

Extreme heatwaves can trigger mass die-offs of plants and animals.

Satellite and field evidence show extreme heat can scorch the leaves of many plants and trigger widespread leaf death across tree canopies. Without their protective canopy and with less ability to photosynthesise, trees are at higher risk of dying. This is one reason more trees are dying across Australia.

Extreme heat can push entire ecosystems past their physiological limits, causing sudden death across many species.

When several days of extreme heat hit, some organisms will be unable to repair the damage to their cells. As our new research shows, sustained heat is most damaging when the heat stays overnight.

Heat stress builds up progressively over years, weakening ecosystems and leaving them more vulnerable to fire, drought, pests and disease. A ecosystem which may seem OK can be hit by this “ecological debt” months or years later.

What can we do?

As extreme heat becomes a regular feature of Australia’s summer, we face unavoidable decisions over whether to intervene.

The question is what trade-offs we will be willing to accept.

1. Should we introduce more heat-tolerant plant species?

Some native plants, crops, insects and microbes can tolerate extreme heat far better, while others succumb.

If we introduce naturally heat-tolerant plant species or varieties into vulnerable landscapes, we could help ecosystems to keep functioning. But this boost to resilience would alter the character of existing ecosystems.

For farms, advances in molecular biology and crop genetics have made it possible to create crops with better heat tolerance faster than traditional breeding methods.

Precision gene editing and genetic modification approaches can improve heat tolerance by protecting a plant’s most vulnerable reproductive tissues and strengthening cells during extreme heat events. Success will depend on whether governments and communities are willing to adopt them.

2. Should we engineer landscapes to create thermal refuges?

Heat isn’t experienced uniformly. That’s because organisms live in microclimates with varying shade, soil depth, types of plants and moisture.

While leaves and soils are often much hotter than the surrounding air, microclimates can offer cooler refuges. We could scale up these thermal refuges through careful revegetation, canopy restructuring, water placement and better fire and grazing strategies. These could build resilience into landscapes, if authorities were willing to plan, invest and manage these programs at scale. We’re already seeing small-scale examples such as keeping flying foxes cool with water.

That’s not to say thermal refuges are a silver bullet. Feasibility will vary across ecosystems and scales.

In cities and towns, planting canopy trees, restoring wetlands and redesigning built surfaces is proven to reduce surface temperatures and could help species survive.

In farming regions, planting shelter belts of large trees, diversifying crops and working to keep moisture in the soil can protect crop yields and native species.

In more remote or wilder landscapes, going down this path would raise harder questions about what constitutes natural resilience. Would this kind of assisted adaptation favour some species? As heat intensifies, the debate will likely shift from whether we intervene to how deliberately and equitably we do so.

These questions aren’t purely scientific or technical. They pose societal choices around which values we prioritise when trade-offs are unavoidable.

We have to start planning now

We believe it will soon be necessary to intervene in ecosystems to boost heat resilience. We urgently need more research to understand how heat damage accumulates in different organisms and how we can support recovery.

We will also have to identify traits for heat-tolerance in as many native species as possible and learn how to cool landscapes and protect ecosystems at scale.

The stakes are extremely high. We can either act now in a deliberate, evidence-based way – or we can wait until accumulated heat forces change on us, after much has been irreversibly lost.

– ref. Intense heatwaves directly threaten crops and native species. Here’s what we can do – https://theconversation.com/intense-heatwaves-directly-threaten-crops-and-native-species-heres-what-we-can-do-275208

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Kevin Trenberth, Distinguished Scholar, NCAR; Affiliate Faculty, University of Auckland, Waipapa Taumata Rau

New Zealand’s summer has been defined by repeated bursts of intense rain, as subtropical systems have swept down over the upper North Island and beyond.

Floods, slips and storm damage – most recently in Christchurch – have dominated the headlines. But many of the season’s events have come with another feature we rarely talk about: the sheer amount of moisture in the air before the rain even starts.

Even by Auckland’s standards, recent humidity readings have been notable.

On February 2, the Whangaparaoa automatic weather station on the city’s North Shore recorded a temperature of 24°C with 98% relative humidity. That implied the dew point – a direct measure of humidity – also came close to 24°C, making for conditions not merely muggy, but oppressive.

A fortnight earlier, on January 21–22, humidity in Tauranga reached similarly sticky levels, with dew point measuring 20°C to 24°C. Over that period, a record-breaking 274mm of rain fell within 24 hours, triggering separate landslides that claimed eight lives.

While humidity is often treated as just an uncomfortable part of summer in the upper North Island, it can, like extreme rainfall, tell us something important about the warming state of our atmosphere.

It also presents a real risk to human health that can be overlooked when we focus on temperature alone.

Why heat feels worse when the air is wet

Over summer, weather reports and television forecasts typically focus on maximum temperature and almost never mention humidity in any form. Yet it is a major factor in New Zealand’s weather – and our comfort depends on it as much as on temperature.

Our bodies continuously exchange heat with the environment through conduction, convection, radiation and evaporation. Humidity strongly influences how effective the body’s natural cooling systems are – particularly sweating – and this becomes critical at higher temperatures.

The range where most people feel comfortable is roughly between 22°C and 27°C, when humidity is favourable.

Typically, humidity is expressed as relative humidity, which gives the percentage of moisture in the air compared with the maximum it could hold at that temperature. But this measure goes up and down with temperature, while the moisture content of air does not.

A far better indicator is the dew point, the temperature at which air becomes saturated and water vapour begins to condense.

Most people start to feel uncomfortable when the dew point rises above about 16°C and conditions can become difficult to bear above 21°C. A high dew point means sweat evaporates poorly and heat stress increases. A day that is 30°C can feel pleasant in dry air, but hard to handle in humid air.

When temperatures reach extreme levels, however, even very dry air can become dangerous. Amid a recent heatwave in southeast Australia, Melbourne recorded maximum temperatures of 41°C and 43°C on January 7 and 9 respectively, with some western and northern suburbs exceeding 45°C.

Despite relative humidities of around 15% and a dew point of less than 12°C, the heat was still extreme. Evaporative cooling still occurs, but at these temperatures the human body can still be overwhelmed.

A climate change calling card

Owing to its maritime climate, New Zealand seldom experiences temperatures above 30°C. When these do occur, they mainly come amid dry north-westerly flows in eastern parts of the country, such as Canterbury and Hawke’s Bay.

In summer, the upper North Island is much more used to background humidity. In Auckland, for instance, the dew point typically hovers between 17°C and 18°C, which is noticeable but not oppressive. On very humid days, often with northerly winds, those values can easily exceed 20°C.

This is just what people experienced in late January when a series of storms passed across the region, bringing intense rain and moisture. These events happened to come as part of a wider “atmospheric river” – long, thin filaments of atmospheric moisture that can stretch thousands of kilometres from the subtropics to New Zealand.

Over recent years, these systems have been responsible for some of the country’s most damaging weather events. As the climate warms, the atmosphere can hold more moisture, meaning atmospheric river events are likely to grow even more frequent and intense, while also raising health risks that come with high humidity.

Another reason for the run of wet and humid weather this summer has been the influence of a fading La Niña climate pattern, which favours warmer seas around New Zealand and more frequent subtropical flows from the north.

Besides driving up local humidity levels, these visiting weather systems can worsen the risk of landslips and landslides – particularly when they bring sudden, heavy downpours after long dry spells have left the ground cracked and vulnerable. In the East Cape region, more than 11,000 slips and landslides were recorded in January alone.

All of this means humidity is more than a source of discomfort and potential heat stress, but an early warning signal of a moisture-laden atmosphere and the risks that come with it.

As our planet continues to heat, measuring and reporting dew point, in both New Zealand and Australia, should become the norm.

– ref. What northern NZ’s wet and sticky summer reveals about our warming atmosphere – https://theconversation.com/what-northern-nzs-wet-and-sticky-summer-reveals-about-our-warming-atmosphere-276157

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Jenna Imad Harb, Research Fellow, Australian National University

When Bad Bunny and his dancers scaled power poles during his Super Bowl performance, he wasn’t just entertaining millions. He was spotlighting how Puerto Rico’s chronic power outages are a legacy of its colonisation.

Puerto Rico is far from alone in this struggle – colonialism and geopolitical power imbalances have shaped access to electricity worldwide.

Puerto Rico has long suffered rolling blackouts lasting days and sometimes months. This leaves residents – especially vulnerable populations – without refrigeration, medical equipment, or air conditioning.

This isn’t just poor infrastructure management, though that is certainly an issue. It’s the ongoing legacy of colonial control over energy systems.

Colonial powers built energy systems designed to extract resources and profits for distant corporations and governments, not to serve local communities. As a result, local communities pay high costs for inadequate power. Similar patterns exist globally, from the Caribbean to the Middle East.

Colonial abandonment, not poor management

Puerto Rico’s chronic blackouts stem from what scholars call “energy colonialism”, where powerful countries and companies control the energy resources of less powerful countries or regions.

Puerto Rico became a US territory in 1898 but does not have voting representation in Congress. While under US responsibility, Puerto Ricans are denied the federal support granted to other US states.

After Hurricane Maria hit Puerto Rico in 2017, it took 11 months to restore the grid – the longest blackout in US history. Yet federal aid was drastically lower than for US states hit by hurricanes around the same period and “tens of billions short of the US$94.4 billion that disaster experts estimated is needed for a full recovery”. As Cecilio Ortiz García, co-founder of the University of Puerto Rico’s National Institute of Energy and Island Sustainability, explains:

the grid has become the poster child of the decay of the colonial system, its institutions and a very vulnerable population. This is colonial abandonment, not poor management.

Unreliable energy feeds hopelessness

Energy colonisation may manifest differently in different colonial contexts. Our research in Lebanon shows several ways colonial dynamics affect energy insecurity.

In Lebanon, energy access has been undermined by Israel’s deliberate targeting of electricity infrastructure in its strikes in southern Lebanon following its invasion of Gaza. It is also undermined by political corruption rooted in colonial governance structures, such as politicians maintaining ties to private diesel generator companies that profit when the public electricity grid fails.

When France colonised Lebanon in the early 1900s, it deliberately designed a political system that divided power along religious lines, a structure still in place today. This system was created to keep Lebanon weak and dependent.

It has fostered political gridlock and corruption, with politicians profiting from failing energy systems rather than fixing them. The state’s dependence on international donors – and donors’ hesitation to subsidise energy infrastructure – has also reinforced energy poverty for residents.

Reliable energy is essential for survival

Colonial energy development dynamics are exemplified by Pacific struggles to access climate finance. Pacific countries divert significant resources to become accredited to key climate funds, in the hope of directly accessing finance. However, both the practice of mobilising finance through intermediaries, and prioritising debt finance – further indebting poor regions – ultimately channels vital resources away from Pacific nations.

As climate disasters intensify, and reliable energy becomes ever more essential for survival, recognising the colonial roots of global energy systems is key. A critical site for recognition, as argued by Puerto Rican energy advocate Juan Rosario is ownership: “the most important thing in this energy revolution is who owns it and who rules”.

Energy justice – grounded in ownership, self‑determination, and equality — must be more nuanced. We need to ask: Who gets to own the energy systems? Who makes the decisions? Who gets the money? Right now, big corporations and governments control energy. Real energy justice means communities run their own power systems and keep the benefits for themselves. Thus, energy justice cannot focus solely on technical fixes. It must also confront the structures of power that shape who benefits from energy systems and who is left vulnerable.

Our research in Lebanon shows how these experiences of energy colonialism are felt – in the wellbeing of communities, and in individual emotions and bodies. In the humanitarian community in Lebanon, people are unable to escape extreme temperature during energy insecurity and blackouts. Feelings of hopelessness and frustration come from persistent energy poverty.

Recognising joy and strength

There are no easy solutions, but we can still take a key lesson from Bad Bunny’s performance. It is vital to call out the structures of power his performance made visible. Bad Bunny’s performance also demonstrated the joy that can be found, even momentarily, from shifting focus from colonial conditions to the strength and resilience of marginalised communities.

Our research showed this strength should be supported and not taken for granted. One participant in Lebanon said:

“Do people have the choice not to be resilient? Like, is there a counterfactual Lebanon where people are not resilient and they suffer more than what they’re suffering now? How do you determine what resilience is versus wanting to live your life? It’s just you waking up and having to find a way.”

– ref. How Bad Bunny’s power pole dance spotlighted the colonial legacy of energy poverty – https://theconversation.com/how-bad-bunnys-power-pole-dance-spotlighted-the-colonial-legacy-of-energy-poverty-275794

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By James J Bell, Professor of Marine Biology, Te Herenga Waka — Victoria University of Wellington

Public concern over the total failure of the Moa Point wastewater treatment plant on Wellington’s south coast has been growing, despite this week’s announcement of an independent review.

When the plant failed on February 4, sewage backed up in the main outfall pipeline and flooded the lower floors of the facility. For two days, raw sewage was released from an outfall only five metres from shore at one of the capital city’s most popular kaimoana (seafood) gathering sites.

Discharge was then redirected to a long outfall, which continues to release untreated sewage about a kilometres from the Taputeranga Marine Reserve (green boundary on map below) and within hundreds of metres of ecologically important giant kelp forests.

Nearly one billion litres of untreated sewage have since flowed onto the coast. The discharge continues at roughly 70 million litres per day. Public health warnings have rightly focused on contaminated beaches and risks to swimmers, surfers and shellfish gatherers.

But the potential consequences extend well beyond beach closures.

Untreated sewage contains elevated nitrogen and phosphorus, organic matter, bacteria, pathogens, microplastics and fine suspended sediments. Released in large volumes, this mixture delivers multiple stressors simultaneously to coastal ecosystems.

Wellington’s south coast is dominated by structurally complex habitats including kelp beds in shallow water and sponge gardens on deeper reefs. These habitats function like underwater forests, providing shelter, nursery grounds and feeding areas for ecologically, commercially and culturally important species, including taonga species.

The scale of ecological impacts remains uncertain. It will depend on how much sewage reaches reef systems, how concentrated it is, and how long the discharge continues.

The highly energetic nature of the south coast, with strong Cook Strait tidal currents and heavy wave exposure, may promote mixing and dilution. However, weather variability and shifting circulation patterns add considerable uncertainty.

Kelp forests

Kelp forests dominate shallow temperate reefs along Wellington’s south coast. Dense kelp canopies support diverse fish and invertebrate communities. When kelp is removed, opportunistic species can rapidly occupy the available space.

International evidence shows sustained nutrient flows can shift reefs away from kelp dominance. In South Australia, Norway, the Baltic Sea and parts of the Mediterranean, nutrient loading has driven transitions from large canopy-forming seaweeds to low-lying algal communities.

These algae represent a simplified, degraded state. Some are opportunistic and short-lived. Others form persistent turf mats that trap fine sediment and chemically inhibit kelp recruitment.

Southern California provides a relevant comparison and shows contrasting responses of kelp forests to wastewater exposure. During the mid-20th century, poorly treated chronic discharge caused widespread loss of giant kelp forests near major outfalls.

Recovery followed improved treatment and offshore relocation of discharges, but varied greatly between locations and was influenced by El Niño temperature anomalies, storms and grazing dynamics.

In 1992, a two-month release of treated effluent into a kelp forest caused no lasting decline of adult kelp but temporarily inhibited germination.

In Wellington, higher sedimentation and turbidity could reduce light penetration and limit kelp growth. Over time, this may favour algal species adapted to low light, gradually altering reef structure.

Deep reefs and sponge gardens

Beyond the shallow fringe lie deeper rocky reef communities living under low light conditions.

Within six kilometres of the Moa Point discharge pipe, these mesophotic reefs host sponge gardens, bryozoans and ascidians that filter seawater and recycle nutrients.

Protected cup corals also occur in these habitats.

Fine sediments and organic matter can settle onto reef surfaces, smothering organisms. Increased turbidity further reduces light penetration, affecting photosynthetic species that already live at their depth limit.

Because many mesophotic organisms grow slowly, recovery from repeated sedimentation events may take years rather than months.

Bacteria, oxygen and microplastics

Untreated wastewater carries elevated bacterial loads and pathogens. While attention often centres on human health, ecological effects are also possible.

Filter feeders such as sponges process large volumes of seawater and may experience physiological stress under sustained contamination.

In shallow, poorly flushed areas near the short outfall pipe, increased organic matter may fuel bacterial growth and reduce oxygen levels. On hot, calm days, when water temperatures rise and oxygen solubility declines, hypoxic conditions may develop.

Sessile or low-mobility species such as pāua are particularly vulnerable.

Wastewater is also a recognised pathway for microplastics, especially synthetic fibres. These particles can be ingested by plankton, shellfish and other filter feeders like sponges, and may move through food webs.

Although long-term consequences are still being investigated, microplastics add another cumulative stress factor.

Marine mammals and seabirds

Wellington’s coastline supports whales, dolphins, seals and seabirds. Pathogens present in wastewater may pose infection risks, particularly in areas of concentrated discharge.

If nutrient enrichment and sedimentation alter kelp forests or fish communities, dolphins, seals and diving seabirds may find less food. Even subtle habitat changes can ripple through food webs.

Monitoring impacts

We have already collected ecological baseline data over many years along with the Department of Conservation and Greater Wellington Regional Council. These data provide valuable reference points for detecting ecological change.

Large sewage discharges are often framed as short-term public health crises. However, evidence from temperate coasts worldwide shows nutrient enrichment and sedimentation can drive longer-term ecological shifts, especially when combined with marine heatwaves and storms.

The Moa Point incident may become the largest sewage discharge in modern New Zealand history. Its true impact will not be measured by the number of days beaches remain closed, but by how Wellington’s kelp forests and sponge gardens respond in the years to come.

– ref. Beyond the beaches, Wellington’s catastrophic sewage spill could be bad news for coastal ecosystems – https://theconversation.com/beyond-the-beaches-wellingtons-catastrophic-sewage-spill-could-be-bad-news-for-coastal-ecosystems-276013

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Fethi Mansouri, Deakin Distinguished Professor/UNESCO Chair-holder; Founding Director, Alfred Deakin Institute for Citizenship and Globalisation, Deakin University

Racism is a “widespread” and “systemic” problem in Australian universities, a major new report has found. According to the Australian Human Rights Commission, about 80% of surveyed Indigenous, Chinese, African, Jewish and Middle Eastern students and staff say they have experienced racism at university.

Race Discrimination Commissioner Giridharan Sivaraman described the findings in the Racism@Uni report as sometimes “harrowing reading”. He added it shows “universities have not met their duty of care”.

What is happening on Australian campuses? And what can be done to fix it?

What did the report find?

This report was commissioned in response to a recommendation from the 2023 Australian Universities Accord final report. It follows an interim report in December 2024 which also found serious problems with racism.

This final report is based on a survey of more than 76,000 students and staff at 42 Australian universities. The survey asked about experiences of racism over the past two years at university. There was also a focus groups with 310 participants. It found:

• almost 15% of all respondents reported experiencing direct interpersonal racism at university

• almost 70% reported experiencing indirect racism at university, such as hearing or seeing racist behaviour not aimed at them personally, but directed towards the racial, ethnic, cultural or religious group with which they identify

• almost 20% of those who did not report experiencing direct or indirect racism at university said they had witnessed racism directed at others at university.

Racism was reported at all universities at similar rates, indicating this is a systemic issue. Students said the racism happened in lectures, tutorials, via marking and elsewhere on campus. Staff said it also happened in meetings and performance reviews. It included being singled out or excluded, racist jokes and comments.

What is the impact?

Some respondents reported their experiences of racism led to them them limiting their participation at university and had negative impacts on their mental health and studies.

Jewish, Israeli, Palestinian, Muslim and Middle Eastern staff and students told researchers they experienced unprecedented levels of racism during the Israel-Hamas war. As a Middle Eastern staff participant shared:

I’ve never seen it worse than this. In terms of suppressing or the fear around expressing views in university if you’re from the Middle East.

A Jewish student similarly shared how things were worse than ever:

I’d encountered antisemitism before, but I had never been scared to be Jewish. In uni, I frequently feel the need to hide my religion.

What are the recommendations?

The report’s 47 recommendations include:

• a national framework to address racism in universities

• better training and complaints processes to ensure universities are free from racism

• more public oversight of racism incidents and anti-racism measures at universities

• curriculum reform, to embed First Peoples’ knowledges, scholarship and texts across all disciplines

• targets and accountability measures to improve workforce diversity in unis.

This problem is not new

Events overseas and domestically, such as the devastating war in Gaza and Bondi terrorist attack, have provided the context for much of the recent discussion on the rise of racism. But racism on campuses is by no means exclusively linked to such recent events.

Over the last few decades, many studies and social surveys have reported persistent discrimination against certain racial groups. This includes exclusion from leadership and workforce representation.

This new report rightly acknowledges racism in Australian universities does not just involve interpersonal encounters, but systemic problems. This means power and representation structures need to be changed in higher education.

The report particularly touches on this in its fifth outcome – which seeks to boost diversity in university leadership and workforce.

What do we need to remember?

Of course much will depend now on how government and universities respond to these findings, which are addressed to them both. Federal Education Minister Jason Clare said he would now “consider” the recommendations.

In dealing with racism on university campuses as elsewhere in society, there must be clear guiding principles and laws. These can be applied in relation to all forms of racism, to avoid claims or concerns one form of racism is prioritised over another.

As governance experts argue, trust can be restored in our unis when there is genuine commitment to tackling racism and discrimination in all their forms.

A challenge ahead

Finally, it is absolutely imperative that in the pursuit of a robust anti-racism strategy, universities are also able to to ensure academic freedom and freedom of speech.

This means students and staff are able to express their views on domestic and international affairs without fear of being harassed or prosecuted. As the report notes, “academic freedom must enable robust discussion” while also providing a learning environment free from racism.

This can be difficult in practice. As the report notes,

[universities] face the challenge of creating respectful learning environments while allowing some discomfort in engaging with difficult ideas.

As the report recommends, this can be improved if more students and staff are given anti-racism and cultural competency training.

What do unis do?

In 1987, former education minister John Dawkins observed of universities:

we must ask the institutions themselves what they see as their role in the social, cultural and economic lives of Australians, and ask them to examine how effectively they are discharging their roles.

This question has become even more pressing as our community tackles challenges to social cohesion. This new report raises the stakes even higher. It demands university leadership strikes the right balance between anti-racism and freedom of speech, so legitimacy and trust are both maintained.

Or, as the report notes,

[universities] must be accountable for creating safe environments, free from discrimination, and where academic freedom is balanced with respect.

– ref. ‘Not met their duty of care’: new report finds racism is widespread at Australian unis – https://theconversation.com/not-met-their-duty-of-care-new-report-finds-racism-is-widespread-at-australian-unis-276170

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Luisa Sotomayor, Associate professor, Department of Geography and Planning, University of Toronto

Crises seem to be everywhere. We live through a moment of generalized crisis — called poly– or perma-crisis by some. In this context, the nation-state often appears as the default institution and ideological framework for addressing challenges. But the nation-state is not always the best placed entity to respond to crises.

Recent events suggest that local, urban and municipal intervention can be effective in the face of crisis. In the United States, various crises have recently been responded to by municipal action.

The election of New York City mayor Zohran Mamdani in November 2025 signalled a switch in attention that foregrounded civic alternatives to national overreach.

Minneapolis has seen unprecedented rallying by civic and grassroots forces who mobilized to protect persecuted neighbours and co-workers. This response to a crisis represents a politics of care and solidarity. It has also recognized an urban form of “non-status citizenship” beyond legal status, grounded in proximity and moral obligation to neighbours and migrants.

Cities are where many crises are lived, governed and collectively handled most directly. Daily social and economic life in cities encourages practical and creative responses to overlapping crises.

In our current project about multi-level crisis management in Canada and the United Kingdom, we want to better understand the potential of local, urban and community-based solutions to the overlapping crises people currently experience.

Crisis urbanism

We start from the assumption that the urban way of life is central to societies both inside and outside city regions. Cities aren’t just places where multiple crises may collide. They’re also places where people develop ways to navigate them. They do so through shared learning and, in some cases, organized forms of resistance and alternative responses to state strategies.

A study conducted by one of our research partners, urban and suburban studies professor Roger Keil, called this phenomenon crisis urbanism. The research, which is also at the basis of this article, argues that crises have to be seen more as ongoing processes that are part of everyday urban life, rather than singular events.

Cities can create opportunities that national governments might overlook or fail to provide. For example, communities can establish processes for democratic dialogue to confront the crises they face. These efforts go beyond reacting to failure, helping to build alternative institutional capacities.

The COVID-19 pandemic offers a strong example of how local entities stepped in when traditional modes of governance failed in their crisis response. In Toronto’s suburban Peel Region, for example, conventional government public health responses were lacking. In this situation, a community-based network of social service organizations was critical to the delivery of an ultimately successful crisis response.

A 2025 study found that the same network under the name Metamorphosis rallied more than 100 member organizations in response to the province of Ontario’s decision in 2023 — later abandoned — to dissolve Peel Region, the network’s territorial base and functional context of action. Metamorphosis’s “social service regionalism” can be viewed as an example of care and repair politics made visible by seeing crises like a city.

Enduring examples of local strength

An example of how crisis is not an event but a process comes from Scotland. Local organizations there — crucial in organizing a pandemic response from the bottom up — continued their activity even in an unfavourable national political landscape.

Local governments can also respond to crises by changing how they operate. A clear example is Bogotá’s neighbourhood-based Care Blocks, created during the COVID-19 pandemic to address a growing care crisis. The program turned long-standing feminist groups’ demands into public policy by recognizing unpaid care work as a shared social responsibility, not just a private burden.

Through Manzanas del Cuidado (Care Blocks), the city provides free domestic, social, educational, legal and psychological services to unpaid caregivers. By placing these services within walking distance of homes, the program reduces time pressures — especially for women, who do most care work. Rather than offering only short-term relief, Bogotá redesigned local institutions to embed care into their functioning.

As hubs of care, repair and resistance, cities play a vital role in crisis response, bringing together communities and civil society who, with local governments and agencies, can mobilize positive change.

Returning to Minneapolis, Rock icon Bruce Springsteen put it into poetic terms:

“A city aflame fought fire and ice …

Citizens stood for justice

Their voices ringin’ through the night …

Our city’s heart and soul persists

Through broken glass and bloody tears

On the streets of Minneapolis.

– ref. From Minneapolis to Toronto and Bogotá, cities showcase new ways to address crises – https://theconversation.com/from-minneapolis-to-toronto-and-bogota-cities-showcase-new-ways-to-address-crises-275262