UCG/Getty Images Europe’s summer heatwave has exposed tens of millions of people to temperatures above 35°C, broken records and claimed hundreds of lives. Early climate attribution studies suggest Europe’s event would have been “virtually impossible” just 50 years ago without human-caused climate change.

Meanwhile in South Asia, where temperatures have been edging past 45C, schools have been forced to close. As the planet continues to warm, severe heatwaves like this are expected to grow more frequent – and even more intense.

New Zealand, with its mild, maritime climate, might seem insulated from such extremes. But it, too, is expected to experience significantly warmer temperatures in future. By the end of the century, in centres such as Auckland and Christchurch, peak summer temperatures in the hottest years could climb several degrees higher than they reach today.

Our new research explores what that could mean for human health – and how cooling in summer, rather than heating in winter, may place greater pressure on Aotearoa’s electricity system. Modelling homes in a hotter future New Zealand’s houses have traditionally been designed to keep people warm in winter.

As temperatures rise, managing overheating will increasingly require either expensive retrofits or greater use of air conditioning, which has historically been uncommon. That is already beginning to change. A recent survey found nearly three-quarters of households with heat pumps use them for cooling.

But renters, families with children and Māori are all less likely to have access to, or use, space cooling, largely because of cost. This reflects a wider problem of energy poverty in New Zealand.

Many low-income and other marginalised households already limit – or go without – heating because they cannot afford it. Combined with poorly insulated homes, these compromises worsen health outcomes and increase healthcare costs. To test how homes might respond to higher temperatures, we used a specific computer model that simulated how households use electricity under different conditions.

It considered factors such as income, temperature and housing, and estimated when people would choose to use air conditioning. We then modelled how rising temperatures over the rest of this century, under mid-range and high-end warming scenarios, could affect neighbourhoods across the socio-economic spectrum in Auckland and Christchurch.

As well, we tested how greater access to heat pumps changed the results. Our findings suggest climate change will have major consequences for both New Zealand’s health and electricity systems. In our highest warming scenario, summer electricity demand overtook winter demand and homes were more likely to overheat.

By 2100, this could mean thousands of additional heat-related deaths each year, with the greatest impacts falling on the most vulnerable communities. Under lower emissions scenarios and over shorter timeframes, the effects were much smaller. We also found that coordinated policies could help reduce these impacts by improving access to cooling – but there was trade-off.

While greater use of heat pumps reduces overheating and saves lives, it further increases electricity demand. In our highest-temperature scenario, annual cardiovascular deaths increased by between 1,264 and 2,390, depending on how many households had heat pumps.

Greater uptake of heat pumps also increased costs for electricity providers and consumers, with a combined average cost of around NZ$640,000 for each excess life saved. Why adaptation should begin now Without action, the burden of higher temperatures would not be shared equally.

Lower-income households and older people would bear a disproportionate share of the health impacts. Our modelling may also underestimate the scale of the risk. It does not account for the additional heat generated in urban areas, for instance, and may understate the intensity of future heatwaves.

In other words, these findings are unlikely to represent a worst-case scenario. Nonetheless, they clearly highlight a need for interventions spanning Aotearoa’s energy, health and infrastructure sectors. So, what can be done? Our findings point to several priorities.

Space cooling should be recognised as a public health tool, with greater access to heat pumps helping save lives while also providing year-round heating and cooling benefits. Support should be targeted towards lower-income and other at-risk communities, where access to cooling is often limited despite greater vulnerability to extreme heat.

Building standards should also place greater emphasis on preventing overheating through passive cooling, reflecting a future where cooling becomes increasingly important. At the same time, electricity generators, transmission companies and distributors will need to prepare for growing summer demand to ensure security of supply.

Most importantly, saving lives in the future means planning needs to begin now.

While the effects of climate change are already being felt today, adapting homes, infrastructure and energy systems is likely to take decades.

Baxter Kamana-Williams receives funding from the Quadrature Climate Foundation.

Rebecca Peer receives funding from the Ministry of Business, Innovation and Employment and Royal Society Te Apārangi.

J.

Geoffrey Chase does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Original source: https://analysis1.mil-osi.com/2026/07/02/climate-change-will-raise-the-risk-of-severe-heatwaves-nz-homes-arent-ready/

In May, Prime Minister Mark Carney announced plans to double the capacity of Canada’s electricity grid by 2050, using natural gas in the name of “powering Canada strong.” Almost all Canadian natural gas these days is derived from hydraulic fracturing — known as fracking — an industrial process involving large amounts of water laced with chemicals pumped long distances underground.

Many of the chemicals used in fracking are harmful to humans and include carcinogens such as PFAS (commonly referred to as “forever chemicals”) and endocrine disruptors. These chemicals can leak into the environment through spills, pipes that eventually erode and crack, and evaporation into the air when stored in open wastewater ponds.

The toxicity of this chemical mix is further exacerbated by naturally occurring radioactive materials and heavy metals unearthed from deep underground during the fracking process.

Another source of health harms from residential proximity to this industry is air pollution from diesel traffic, compressor stations and the venting and flaring of methane and other volatile organic gases — all of which are integral to shale gas extraction.

Residential setback regulations Jurisdictions where fracking takes place acknowledge the potential harms from living nearby active wells through a key regulation termed a “residential setback” — defined as the minimum allowable distance between where a person lives and the construction of an active well.

As part of an ongoing study, we recently examined setback distances in two Canadian provinces (British Columbia and Alberta) and four American states (California, Colorado, Pennsylvania and Texas) with major shale gas industries. It turns out that B.C. and Alberta have the shortest and least protective residential setback regulations compared to their major U.S. counterparts.

This distance — a mere 100 metres — is significantly shorter than California’s and Colorado’s default setback distances at 975 metres and 610 metres respectively.

California’s 975-metre regulated setback distance not only applies to private residences but also covers other “sensitive receptors,” defined as education resources, community resource centres, health-care facilities, live-in housing or any business open to the public.

There is no mention in B.C.’s regulations of other “sensitive receptors” except a non-binding policy to disallow gas wells within 1,000 metres (one kilometre) of a school. A drill pad seen from above.

The evidence base for health harms associated with living close to active oil and gas wells emerged long after B.C.’s setback regulations were created in 2010. (Tim Takaro), CC BY Impact on health Researchers have used residential setbacks as a way to measure individuals’ exposure to fracking activity and its association with a variety of health outcomes.

Several studies have demonstrated that mothers living closer to active gas wells are at greater risk of having smaller babies. This can lead to significant developmental and other health challenges later in life. The farthest distance within which impaired fetal growth was observed in these studies was 10 kilometres — a distance 1,000 times greater than B.C. and Alberta’s currently regulated 100-metre setback distance.

Other studies report higher rates of congenital birth defects among infants born to mothers living within 10 kilometres of an active well compared to mothers living farther away. A shorter distance to the nearest well has been linked to more self-reported symptoms in several studies.

In one community-based survey in Pennsylvania, a significantly higher proportion of survey respondents living within 457 metres of a gas well reported symptoms than those living beyond that distance. The researchers further reported that when a gas well, compressor station or impoundment pit was 457 to 1,219 metres away, 27 per cent of participants reported throat irritation.

This increased to 63 per cent at 152 to 457 metres, and to 74 per cent at less than 152 metres. This pattern was similar for sinus problems and headaches. California researchers found that people living less than 200 metres from oil wells had significantly poorer lung function test results compared to those living beyond that distance.

Other health harms using setbacks to measure exposure reported greater risk of gestational hypertension within one kilometre of an active well and adverse mental health among a group of American and Canadian women attempting to conceive within two kilometres of an active well.

All these studies report health harms occurring at distances far greater than B.C.’s currently regulated 100-metre setback. Other studies, deploying exposure measures that combine residential proximity and density of wells, found a wide range of human health harms.

These include higher rates of childhood leukemia and other cancers, heart and lung diseases and overall mortality within perimeter distances greater than 100 metres. Vulnerable populations Environmental exposures are also not equally distributed across and within populations.

B.C.’s shale gas industry is located in the northeast area of the province. This is a rural and remote part of B.C. that’s the traditional territory of Treaty 8 First Nations who rely on the land for food, water sources, ceremonial practices and cultural identity.

One study set in northeast B.C. reported that areas with high proportions of Indigenous people experienced more air pollution compared to areas with a low proportions of Indigenous people. The study reported a similar pattern and even larger disparity in areas with high versus low socio-economic vulnerability.

Rural B.C.’s northeast is experiencing a massive expansion in the number of active wells to meet the increasing demand from B.C.s new liquefied natural gas (LNG) industry. The harms from these wells are minimally regulated at best and not subject to cumulative environmental assessments.

The evidence base for health harms associated with living close to active oil and gas wells emerged long after B.C.’s setback regulations were created in 2010. The burden of these health harms are likely to worsen with the current fracking boom.

Setback regulations remain the only lever that affords some protection to those bearing the greatest health risks from shale gas development. Provincial and federal governments have made the unfortunate decision to go “full-bore” on expanding fracking.

There is an urgent need to align regulatory setbacks with environmental health evidence and best practices to protect peoples’ health.

Margaret McGregor is a member of the Canadian Association of Physicians for the Environment

Deborah Curran is the Executive Director of the Environmental Law Centre.

Élyse Caron-Beaudoin receives funding from CIHR, NSERC, SSHRC, and the University of Toronto.

Kevin Berk is a former Articling Student at the Environmental Law Centre.

Tim K.

Takaro receives funding from SFU School of Medicine as Planetary Health Lead. He is a member of the Canadian Association of Physicians for the Environment.

Original source: https://analysis1.mil-osi.com/2026/07/02/b-c-and-alberta-fall-behind-on-fracking-safety-distances-for-residents/

Mina Rad/Unsplash Two brothers – Paul Issa and Phillip Issa – fronted court in Sydney this week, both facing criminal charges after allegedly accessing the personal banking details of Prime Minister Anthony Albanese. The younger brother, 21-year-old Paul, was a graduate employee of consulting firm EY and on secondment to the Commonwealth Bank of Australia at the time of the alleged offence.

He has since been sacked by the firm. Neither the Issa brothers nor EY have publicly commented on the case.

Noting that the matter was still before the courts, Albanese told ABC News Breakfast on Wednesday it was “appropriate that charges have been laid” and that: accessing anyone’s privacy, any Australian’s privacy, is alarming.

Regardless of the outcome of this case, these allegations raise some obvious questions. Who – among bank staff, regulators, technology providers and other third parties – can access our private financial data? What protections are in place to stop them misusing it?

And are there any steps we can take to protect ourselves? Who can see my bank details? Within a bank (or other financial institution, such as a superannuation fund), access to your personal information is not a free-for-all.

Authorised access is generally determined by a staff member’s role and responsibilities. It is also limited to what is absolutely necessary for legitimate business purposes, a principle called “least privilege” access control. For example, customer service staff at your bank may be granted access to your information where it is needed to manage your account, answer your queries, or provide basic financial services.

Members of the fraud, risk, compliance or audit teams may also have access to customer information where required to perform their duties. These teams use this data to investigate suspicious transactions, monitor risk and ensure the bank is meeting its legal and regulatory obligations.

Who else can access my data? Bank staff themselves aren’t the only ones who may have access to your financial data. To provide modern banking services, banks also work with a range of third-party providers.

These include technology companies, cloud service and data analytics providers, cybersecurity specialists and consultants.

In similar fashion, these groups may be given access to customer information where necessary to deliver services on behalf of the bank: for example, to improve a bank’s core operating system, or detect cyber threats.

But, as with bank staff, this access is governed by strict contractual arrangements, security standards and relevant laws. In principle, these third parties do not have independent rights to use customer data for their own purposes.

They must handle it with care and protect it from unauthorised use. Does the bank track every click? Importantly, access to customer data is not unrestricted. It is controlled through internal permissions. Banks typically apply “role-based access controls”, which restrict what different staff members can see, depending on their role.

Most banks also maintain detailed monitoring and audit systems. They record when customer information is accessed, who accessed it, and why. These systems are designed to detect unusual or inappropriate access and support internal investigations where needed.

What the law says Banks have these sophisticated systems in place because they are required to comply with a range of internal bank policies, security controls and external regulatory obligations. Most major Australian banks are voluntarily members of the Australian Banking Association and subscribe to the Banking Code of Practice.

This industry-led framework sets standards for dealing with customers. Banks must also comply with a range of Australian laws, including the Australian Privacy Principles under the Commonwealth Privacy Act. This is enforced by the Office of the Australian Information Commissioner.

Broader financial services regulation is overseen by key regulators, chiefly: the Australian Securities and Investments Commission (ASIC) the Australian Prudential Regulation Authority (APRA) the Australian Transaction Reports and Analysis Centre (AUSTRAC). Where access to customer information is improper or unauthorised, it may result in disciplinary action.

In serious cases, there could be criminal penalties. How can we protect ourselves? Most of the legal responsibility for protecting customer data sits with financial institutions and regulators. But individuals can still play an important role in protecting their own privacy.

Practical steps include: using strong, unique passwords enabling multi-factor authentication where available regularly monitoring account activity being cautious about phishing attempts or unsolicited requests for banking information. Some banks offer customers the ability to opt in to data-sharing arrangements through “open banking” (also known as the “consumer data right”).

This allows customers to give permission for accredited third parties to access their banking data for specific purposes. For example, this could include comparing mortgage products or managing finances. Importantly, this access is consent-based, time-limited, and can be revoked by the customer at any time.

While alarming, incidents involving alleged unauthorised or inappropriate access do not necessarily mean governance systems have failed.

In many cases, they highlight that monitoring and control systems are functioning as intended.

The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Original source: https://analysis1.mil-osi.com/2026/07/02/who-has-access-to-my-bank-details-what-protections-are-in-place-to-prevent-misuse/

A John Trumbull painting of the death of Gen. Richard Montgomery in Quebec on Dec. 31, 1775, during the American war of independence. DeAgostini/Getty Images Strange as it is to say, the U.S. Declaration of Independence has deep roots in Canada.

That assertion may come as a surprise to people in the United States ahead of its 250th anniversary. The common narrative is fixated upon 1776, the 13 rebelling Colonies and the bold military actions of Founding Fathers such as George Washington.

But as I document in my new book, “Freedom Around the Globe,” there is a much wider and often forgotten geographical context. Indeed, it is impossible to understand fully the trajectory of the U.S. in 1776 without comprehending a wider imperial world and what happened in 1775.

In fact, the American Revolution ran through Canada.

A broader British North America In 1775, the first year of the American Revolutionary War, Britain possessed double the famous 13 colonies in North America alone, with many in Canada and the Greater Caribbean – including East and West Florida.

At least some of these colonies had become nominally British in the 1760s, thanks to military triumph late in the Seven Years’ War, 1756-1763.

In late 1759, the British had vanquished the French at the battle of the Plains of Abraham near Quebec City, thus ensuring that the British gained this province and a string of French forts in the interior.

In 1763, with the Treaty of Paris, Quebec officially became part of the British Empire. It took British bureaucrats and politicians some years and not a little wrangling to figure out how to integrate French and Indigenous Catholics, with their own laws, into the British Empire.

A major milestone in this process was the Quebec Act of 1774, allowing the practice of Catholicism and modified French law in Canada. Colonists down south, especially fierce New England Protestants who took a dim view of Catholicism, viewed this act – and their new fellow imperial subjects – with dismay and considerable suspicion.

Map of the British colonies in North America from 1763 to 1775.

Universal History Archive/Universal Images Group via Getty Images Pushing for a 14th colony Still, by 1775, those in the 13 Colonies who called themselves “Friends of Liberty” hoped that Canada would “complete the union of 14 provinces,” as one man put it.

Accordingly, the First Continental Congress wrote to Quebec’s habitants – residents of French origin – to invite them to join their new nationalist project. The letter explained in patronizing terms how the English government worked. The Congress acknowledged that there were religious differences with French Catholics but expressed confidence that the “transcendent nature of liberty” could overcome such distinctions.

They commissioned its translation into French and ordered a thousand copies for Canadian distribution. By early 1775, Quebec’s governor complained that this letter was stirring up the population by planting dangerous doubts about British imperial authority.

On May 1, 1775, the day the Quebec Act took effect, the life-size marble statue of George III in Montréal – erected in gratitude for his assistance following a fire – was vandalized, indicating disquiet there about this new order.

The Second Continental Congress, which followed the first after its dissolution, continued efforts to win over French Canadians. They sent another letter, again translated and widely distributed. “We yet entertain hopes of your uniting with us in the defence of our common liberty,” they pleaded.

The Continental Congress urged Canadians to reject “the fetters of slavery, however artfully polished.” Signed by “Jean Hancock, le “Président du Congrès,” this missive prompted discussions among people in Canada. The invasion of Canada As 1775 wore on, force came to join careful letters.

One Boston newspaper proclaimed: “From the friendly disposition of the Canadians … joined to the intrepidity of the Continental army, there is a fair prospect of the speedy reduction of the metropolis of Canada to … obedience.” It was a cheering if jumbled message: Canada a metropolis?

Friendly French Catholic enemies? Allies reduced to obedience? Nothing in it quite made sense, but few in those “United Colonies” – not yet states – wanted to think too hard about these claims or their implications. Quebec was “easy Prey,” pronounced George Washington in September 1775.

He put the well-regarded, Irish-born Gen. Richard Montgomery in charge of the conquest of Canada. Montgomery and his troops managed to take Montréal at the end of November. The British monarchy looked to be toppling in Canada.

That marble sculpture of George III, vandalized in 1775, was now beheaded altogether, to the cheers of soldiers. The next step was to join forces at Québec to take that city and thus the province.

December was not a good time to launch a Canadian siege. However, the terms of thousands of soldiers expired on Dec. 31. So Continental Army leadership forged ahead on the last, short, dark day of 1775. A blizzard made conditions horrific.

Even Montgomery fretted that his forces were “half-starved and half-naked.” Still, rank-and-file soldiers did what they could. Pinned to their random assortment of hats were scrawled, handmade signs proclaiming liberty or death. They mostly got the latter.

Montgomery was killed within the first few hours on Dec. 31, 1775. His men were left to fight for themselves, as one private, Jeremiah Greenman, wrote in consternation as he found himself – like one-third of his fellow Continental soldiers – a prisoner of war.

An artist’s engraving of Quebec in the early 1800s. Universal History Archive/Universal Images Group via Getty Images The move to independence The attack on Quebec was a disaster. The icy cold was fatal.

Supplies were insufficient. Smallpox raged among malnourished troops. The Canadian catastrophe highlighted the inadequacies of the current system of supply and the lack of American credit. Soldiers, starving and frustrated, did not behave especially well, thus turning Canadians against the cause.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, subsequent attempts at diplomacy, led by the ailing diplomat and intellectual Benjamin Franklin, also proved ineffective. As one Continental officer later declared, “We have bro’t about ourselves by Mismanagement” what the British could not: the near-complete loss of Canadian support.

In January 1776, news of the defeat shocked colonists. Montgomery’s death provoked an outpouring of heartfelt support. Marylanders showed their adoration by naming Montgomery County for him.

That same month, in Philadelphia, an English-born printer published a treatise, dedicating partial profits “for mittens for the troops that were going to Quebec.” That would have been a lot of mittens, because the publication was the bestselling pamphlet of 18th-century North America: Thomas Paine’s “Common Sense.” The death of an Irishman in Canada propelled many Americans to agree with this Englishman Paine that independence was the right course.

As one put it, “Poor Brave Montgomery! But it is not a time to cry but to revenge.” Paine capitalized on the momentum by publishing a dialogue between Montgomery’s ghost and an American in February, debating independence.

In the glum mood of early 1776, Paine’s arguments landed. Grave loss in Canada precipitated the Declaration of Independence, created with an eye to France and Spain as allies. To obtain the help it needed, the newly named United States of America had to become an independent nation.

Few countries would intervene in a colonial rebellion, but they might join a war against the hated British. As Montgomery’s brother-in-law observed, France was a good prospect for “foreign aid” to the fledgling nation.

Indeed, assistance – in terms of finances, arms and, eventually, soldiers – from France and Spain would make all the difference, allowing Washington and others to move from defeat to victory. The momentum that resulted in the Declaration of Independence came in part from Canada.

Sarah M.S.

Pearsall received funding from the National Endowment for the Humanities and the British Library for the research on which this article was based. Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in the article do not necessarily reflect those of these organizations.

Original source: https://analysis1.mil-osi.com/2026/07/02/canadas-little-known-role-in-helping-to-spur-american-independence-in-1776/

Kehan Chen/Getty Images A climate change lawsuit making its way through the courts continues to prove one of New Zealand’s most historic legal cases. The case, brought by iwi leader and climate activist Mike Smith, seeks to hold several major companies, including Fonterra and Z Energy, legally responsible for their greenhouse gas emissions.

It has already prompted the government to reform New Zealand’s climate laws to prevent companies being sued for damages caused to the climate by their emissions. Having just been introduced under urgency to parliament, where it passed its first reading yesterday, the Climate Change Response (Tort Liability) Amendment Bill would apply to both current and future cases if enacted.

The government’s reasoning is that climate policy should be decided by elected officials and existing laws, not by the courts, to ensure “legal clarity and certainty” for businesses around their obligations. Now the dispute has taken another turn.

Smith has filed fresh proceedings in the High Court, asking for a declaration that the government’s decision to introduce the law change – and the process behind it – were unlawful. There are many interesting aspects of these cases that legal observers will be following closely.

Among them is whether New Zealand’s proposed law change is consistent with the international climate commitments it recently endorsed. A landmark case Smith alleges the companies he is suing have materially contributed to the climate crisis through their greenhouse gas emissions.

He also argues their actions have caused harm to his whenua and moana, including places of cultural, spiritual and historical significance to him and his whānau. In 2020, the companies asked the courts to strike out Smith’s case before it reached trial.

The applications worked their way through the courts before the Supreme Court heard the final appeal in 2022.

In a landmark unanimous decision in 2024, the Supreme Court ruled that while Smith’s claims – including public nuisance, negligence and a novel tort of “climate system damage” – were legally novel, they raised arguable questions that deserved to be tested at trial rather than dismissed at an early stage.

The court ordered the case be reinstated in full and proceed to the High Court, where it is currently scheduled for trial in April 2027. If the government’s amendment becomes law, however, it will bring an end to that trial before it begins – and block any future lawsuits against corporate emitters.

That is relevant not just for Smith’s case, but for New Zealand’s wider climate obligations. In 2021, Vanuatu announced at the United Nations that it would seek an advisory opinion from the International Court of Justice on states’ legal obligations in relation to climate change.

New Zealand was among the countries that supported the move. The resulting UN resolution was adopted by consensus in 2023. The International Court of Justice delivered its advisory opinion in 2025, unanimously finding that states have obligations to protect the climate system and that there may be legal consequences if they fail to do so.

Advisory opinions are not legally binding in the same way as judgements in contested cases. But opinions from the International Court of Justice are highly authoritative and are often cited by courts and tribunals around the world.

One important aspect of the court’s opinion concerned private actors. The court said states may be responsible if they fail to take necessary regulatory and legislative measures to limit emissions caused by private entities within their jurisdiction.

Seen in that light, removing an individual’s ability to sue companies over climate damage could be seen as weakening one possible “check and balance” on emissions caused by private actors. A gap between words and action The timing of the recent developments is also notable.

Only eight days after announcing the proposed law change in May, New Zealand voted with 140 other countries at the UN to endorse the International Court of Justice’s advisory opinion on climate change. New Zealand’s parliament also declared a climate emergency in 2020.

Yet domestically, the government is proposing to close off a legal pathway through which major emitters could be held accountable for climate-related harm. This does not mean every climate case against a company must succeed.

That is for the courts to decide on the evidence and the law. But preventing such cases from being heard at all raises a different concern. It risks placing New Zealand’s domestic climate policy out of step with the international climate principles it has supported.

Climate change is one of the defining challenges of this century. The science is clear that limiting global warming requires rapid and deep reductions in greenhouse gas emissions across all sectors this decade. The proposed amendment is therefore about more than one lawsuit.

It raises fundamental questions about whether New Zealand’s laws will match the commitments it makes internationally – and whether future generations will inherit climate policies that reflect accountability, or merely efforts to avoid it.

Justin Sobion does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Original source: https://analysis1.mil-osi.com/2026/07/02/nz-wants-to-end-climate-lawsuits-how-does-that-sit-with-its-international-commitments/

When my feature documentary Motherboard was released, I was in my late 50s. I had filmed it over 20 years, on five generations of smartphones, documenting the pain, joy and comedy of raising my son Jim alone.

When I became pregnant at 38, I found myself single and broke. I was working long hours as a freelance TV and film director. Jim’s father made it clear he did not want to be involved.

I didn’t want my son to have two absent parents, so I quit my job overnight. Like many women in the creative industries, I paid a heavy motherhood penalty. It was more than 12 years before I got back to making films.

For five years I tried to raise finance for Motherboard through the usual markets. I eventually raised £60,000 from Arte, the Association for European Television, to begin editing Motherboard, only to lose it when we could not find match funding.

The film that changed everything for me was Tangerine, which was famously shot on an iPhone 5 in 2014. Its energy and immediacy blew me away.

Around the same time, I came across an interview with director Ava DuVernay, the first black woman to win the best director prize for her film Middle of Nowhere at the Sundance Film Festival in 2012.

Her advice to fellow filmmakers was to stop waiting for the right agent, financier or producer to “discover” you. “There’s no one coming … You have to do it yourself.” The trailer for my film, Motherboard.

And so my DIY filmmaking career began. I wanted to make a film about solo parenting in all its messiness, the highs, but also the lows. I began shooting with my smartphone, almost daily, for nearly two decades.

Jim grew up on camera. I filmed his first day at school and his last day at college. I filmed days out, dance-offs and bedtime routines. I filmed the difficult stuff too: the day I was diagnosed with breast cancer, Jim’s reaction to meeting his dad for the first time at 14 and the rollercoaster teen years that followed.

The smartphone made that access possible. Jim liked its spontaneity and low-fi intimacy; sometimes he filmed me on his phone too.

With my smartphone, I was able to embrace director Werner Herzog’s advice to filmmakers: “Ask for forgiveness, rather than permission.” I could film on buses, trains and in hospitals without months of emails trying to secure access.

During chemotherapy and radiotherapy, filming on a phone wasn’t intimidating and no one ever said “no”. Sometimes nurses even helped me shoot, pressing record as I disappeared into another CT scan. Now I’m developing my second feature, an autobiographical documentary about navigating family, friendship and relationships in my 60s.

I recently read that box office hits are four times more likely to star a talking animal than a woman over 60. I will keep filming with my smartphone and make it anyway. Over the last 15 years, as a filmmaker and professor of digital arts, I have seen extraordinary shorts and features made on smartphones.

Many were created by early career filmmakers who would have struggled to access industry funding without a smartphone and a minimal crew. This matters because film finance still remains hard to raise if you are not from the white, middle-class, male demographic the industry tends to favour.

In the UK and Ireland, only 16% of the 718 films released theatrically in 2025 were directed or co-directed by women or non-binary filmmakers. This July, I’ve co-curated SMART, a one-day Smartphone filmmaking festival at Finsbury Park Picturehouse.

The festival will celebrate filmmakers who have pioneered this way of working and got their films across the finish line despite the odds. I will also be screening Motherboard, followed by an audience Q&A with my son Jim and me.

The programme ranges from no-budget DIY shorts to internationally acclaimed features.

It includes Shih-Ching Tsou’s Left-Handed Girl (2025), co-written and edited by Tangerine director Sean Baker – who won an Oscar for his film Anora in 2025 – and shot Tangerine on an iPhone with a small, agile crew.

Tsou has been producing films with Baker for 25 years, but Left-Handed Girl is the first feature she has directed and co-written. When I interviewed her recently, she acknowledged how long it had taken to get the film financed: “I had the idea in, like, early 2000.

So that’s how crazy this whole journey is.” The trailer for Left-Handed Girl. Tsou is drawn to the freedom smartphones give filmmakers, but what really interests her is their access and intimacy. When she first considered setting her film in a Taipei night market, Taiwanese producers told her it would be impossible to shoot there for real.

“They all said you need to build your night market. You have to hire all the extras,” she told me. “I’m like, no, that’s not how I’m going to do it.” Instead, she shot on location with the iPhone 13 she still carries today.

At first the 20 person crew and rig was too large, attracting crowds who stopped to watch. Only after reducing the crew size even further could Tsou successfully capture child actor Nina Ye running through the shops and kiosks of the night market as everyday life continued around her.

Left-Handed Girl beautifully captures a child’s point of view, something Tsou believes came from the smartphone’s agility. “iPhone captures ProRes 4K image, just like any professional camera, but it’s very small. It’s very mobile.

So we can get so close to her. We can stay at her level.” Several of the filmmakers showing shorts at SMART as part of the filmmaker panel discussion, are at the start of their careers.

Tsou’s advice to them was simple, learn more than one skill. “You need to be able to write your own story and try to shoot your own story. And try to edit your own story.

If you have these three basic skills, you don’t need anything. You don’t need money.” No budget, then, is no longer an excuse. Smartphone filmmaking will not fix the inequalities of the film industry.

But it does give more filmmakers a route around them and a chance to make the work the industry has too often failed to support.

Victoria Mapplebeck does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Original source: https://analysis1.mil-osi.com/2026/07/02/smartphones-are-helping-filmmakers-tell-the-stories-the-movie-industry-overlooks/

Every time she releases a new album, journalists and social media commentary insist that Madonna is over. They are usually, eventually, proven wrong. This debate has emerged again now Madonna is on the promotional circuit for her new album Confessions II.

Despite the positive response to the music released so far, she is drawing controversy for her appearance and performances – surprise. Madonna’s contribution to music was never simply the hit records. It was demonstrating that a woman at the centre of popular culture could have an audacity that matched any applauded (male) rockstar.

Now, just as it was back in the 1980s and early 1990s, that quality feels scarce in contemporary mainstream pop music. There are many more female artists in the 2020s, but there is no one as iconoclastic as Madonna, more than 40 years on from her debut.

This is not to say today’s female artists lack talent. Quite the opposite. Popular music is filled with extraordinary singers, writers and performers (see Sabrina Carpenter, Taylor Swift, Ariana Grande et al). They are well-oiled, slick, inoffensive and easy to imagine the parental approval of teenage fans.

Madonna built her career by refusing precisely that approach. From 1984’s Like A Virgin until the present day, she has made art that potentially jeopardised safe commercial success that became culturally significant because of its audacity.

Some projects did not perform as expected: 2019’s Madame X did not connect with many. Some attracted furious criticism: 2005’s Hung Up created a cultural debate about the ageist sexism in early 2000s music. Others were misunderstood for years before being reassessed: 2003’s American Life was ahead of its time with its critique of George W.

Bush and early noughties US society. The point is not that every provocation succeeded artistically. It is that she accepted the possibility of failure as the price of remaining culturally significant and having the audacity to say something beyond the solid harmonies and fantastic melodies.

Madonna had a message and meaning. For women, significance beyond representation The music industry has never been especially comfortable with women exercising power over both their image and their business. Female artists continue to encounter double standards around ageing, sexuality and ambition that male performers rarely experience.

Madonna did not dismantle these structures. Instead, she repeatedly exposed them.

The imagery for the Confessions II album shows Madonna in outfits she would have worn 35 years ago, and her refusal to acquiesce to society’s views of what a 68-year-old woman should wear, is exactly the reason she has an army of female fans supporting her, and why she matters.

It isn’t the simple fact she is a woman, and improves the quota of female artists, it is the fact she is a woman with opinions and a provocative mind that matters. Her importance to queer audiences Long before LGBTQ+ identities gained mainstream acceptance, Madonna treated queer culture as a source of artistic innovation and fought for the community.

She employed queer dancers, collaborated with gay creatives during the Aids crisis and brought elements of queer “ballroom” culture into mainstream visibility through Vogue. Those choices have since generated important debates about appropriation and cultural credit, particularly regarding the Black and Latino communities that created ballroom culture.

Those criticisms deserve serious attention. But they should not obscure the fact that Madonna used unprecedented levels of mainstream visibility to platform queer aesthetics and queer people to audiences who might otherwise never have encountered them.

Now, 35 years on and her new Confessions II album is positioned directly to her gay audience; the project is sponsored by queer dating app Grindr and she is tapping into Pride month performances to launch the record.

This strategic partnership with Grindr is a first for the music industry, and given the salacious perceptions of the app, and the music videos and performances so far, it is clear this album is audaciously using a “sex sells” strategy for a 68-year-old female artist with a large gay audience.

This is quintessential Madonna, and her gay audience is loving it. Why she matters now more than ever Every moral panic surrounding her career revealed less about Madonna herself than about society’s anxieties about female autonomy.

Whether discussing gender, religion, sexuality, material consumerism or ageing, she has both ignited and contributed to society and culture’s big conversations.

In her recent interview with Graham Norton for the BBC, her audacious nature shows no signs of slowing down; she persistently pushed back on his questions, and was quite clear when she did not want to answer.

It is rare to see anyone be so confident and assured in their own skin.

Many would want to appear likeable and hope for a positive reception so the audience would be warmed up to buy the record, but Madonna is less polished popstar and more confident rockstar, her answers felt more like those of Ozzy Osbourne, Jonny Rotten and Liam Gallagher in their swag and attitude.

Not every artist should aspire to be Madonna. But every generation needs an iconoclast: someone prepared to risk popularity in pursuit of possibility and to ignite debate and conversation. You might love her or hate her, but in an age increasingly governed by algorithms, metrics and carefully managed authenticity, that may be Madonna’s most relevant legacy of all: queer-infused female audacity.

There is no one like her, and she is needed now more than ever.

Joel Gray does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Original source: https://analysis1.mil-osi.com/2026/07/02/confessions-ii-why-madonna-still-matters/

vectorfusionart/Shutterstock I recently volunteered to teach some lessons in finance to pupils at a primary school. Over six sessions, I spoke to a group of ten and eleven-year-olds about things like value, savings, cost and risk.

The talks were not meant to turn the children into investors, or to teach them to price derivatives or read corporate accounts. They were simply designed to start discussions about everyday financial choices – what it means to spend and borrow money, to compare prices and plan ahead.

I told them that money involves choices and consequences. That if we spend today, we may have less tomorrow. That if we borrow money, there are rules about paying it back. Or that if prices rise, the same amount of money buys less stuff.

These are not advanced financial concepts. They are everyday occurrences. The children were curious and often more financially alert than I expected them to be. They asked practical questions and responded especially strongly to examples involving everyday choices, such as saving for something they wanted or comparing prices when costs rise.

And the experience left me asking whether children should be being taught more about financial literacy at school as a vital life skill. After all, rent, mortgages, loans, tax, pensions, savings, inflation, insurance and debt shape the lives of almost every household.

A better understanding of how it all works can only be a good thing. The issue is not that schools do nothing. Financial education already appears in parts of the curriculum in many countries, particularly through mathematics and citizenship lessons.

But is this enough? And there is plenty of evidence to suggest that improving financial literacy should be part of any education system which hopes to prepare young people for life and work in a changing society.

A study in Brazil for example, shows that school-based financial education can improve economic proficiency. And an experiment in Peru suggests that mandatory school-based financial education is highly effective. By contrast, if financial literacy is left mainly to families, there is evidence that inequality gets passed on.

This concern is consistent with “financial socialisation theory”, which shows that children usually get their financial attitudes and habits from their parents. Financial fix Of course, financially literate children do not always become financially secure adults.

They may still suffer from low wages, high housing costs, insecure work or regional inequality. But financial literacy can reduce vulnerability. Evidence from US high school education policies links exposure to personal finance education with better economic results for young adults, including fewer debt defaults and higher credit scores.

What’s it worth? New Africa/Shutterstock So a focus on financial education makes sense. It can help young people understand credit, compare prices, question online financial advice, recognise scams, plan savings and make more informed decisions when they start work.

Technology adds another dimension. The financial world that young people encounter is no longer limited to a bank branch or a family conversation at the kitchen table. It is embedded in platforms, apps and algorithms.

Children may be using online banking, contactless payments, subscriptions, buy-now-pay-later products and AI-generated content before they fully understand financial risk. Teaching young pupils about finance and accounting reminded me that children are often more capable than adults assume.

They may not know the terminology, but they understand fairness, choices, value and consequence. These are the foundations of financial reasoning.

If we want more financially resilient societies, we should not wait until young people are opening their first bank account, signing their first rental contract or taking on student debt to give them a decent grounding in understanding the financial world.

It should start much earlier, and governments should be ambitious enough to make financial literacy a core part of every child’s education.

Narmin Nahidi does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Original source: https://analysis1.mil-osi.com/2026/07/02/schools-should-teach-children-more-about-how-money-works/

US President Donald Trump once called cryptocurrency a “scam”. It’s now a major moneymaker for him: his just-released annual financial disclosure shows he made more than US billion from cryptocurrency last year. This news has raised the ire of Trump’s critics.

Juliana Stratton, the Illinois lieutenant governor and a Democratic Senate candidate, accused Trump of using his public office “to make billions while American families struggle to afford their basic needs. His infinite greed is disgusting.” The White House denied Trump or his family has engaged in conflicts of interest.

Deputy press secretary Anna Kelly said “all actions by President Trump and his administration are taken in the best interest of the American people”. But how exactly has Trump earned so much money from cryptocurrency?

How does cryptocurrency work? A cryptocurrency is simply digital money. It differs from traditional money in two ways. First, traditional currencies are issued by central banks of each country, while cryptocurrencies are issued according to rules written in computer code.

The computer code behind crypto may be controlled by a company. Or the code may be predefined ahead of time (for example, in a “white paper” that sets up the algorithm behind crypto) and controlled by no one at all.

Second, transactions in traditional money happen via the banking system, while transactions in cryptocurrency happen on blockchains, which are databases that store information on who owns what. Bitcoin is the oldest and best-known cryptocurrency, with a decentralised structure and no single entity controlling its issuance or making profits off it.

Aside from Bitcoin, there are tens of thousands of privately issued coins, which run on public blockchains such as Ethereum or Solana. But private coins, unlike Bitcoin, are issued by private companies to make money.

Transactions on a blockchain can involve transferring many different versions of private crypto assets – anything that can be written into a piece of code, regardless of whether that digital asset has any value at all.

What are the Trump’s crypto businesses? Trump and his family are involved in three kinds of digital assets: the $TRUMP memecoin, a governance token called WLFI, and a stablecoin called USD1. Memecoins are coins with no real business behind them.

They derive their value from investor attention – a digital equivalent of buying a kid’s scribble because it’s your kid, not because the scribble has value in the outside world. Stablecoins, by contrast, are a digital equivalent of a fiat currency like USD.

For example, each unit of USD1 is designed to be worth exactly US$1. To maintain this value, stablecoins are typically backed by short-term government bonds and cash. Governance tokens are yet another type of coin, which give holders voting rights over a crypto project, but no ownership over the project itself, and no claim on its profits.

The $TRUMP memecoin launched three days before Trump’s inauguration in January 2025. About 80% of its supply is held by Trump-affiliated companies, which also collect a fee every time the coin changes hands. WLFI and USD1 are issued by World Liberty Financial, cofounded in 2024 by the Trump family and business partners.

A Trump business entity owns about 60% of the company and is entitled to 75% of net proceeds from token sales. Trump’s annual financial disclosure shows World Liberty brought him more than $500 million last year, while the memecoin business brought in more than $600 million.

Forbes now estimates Trump’s net worth at $6 billion, up from $2.3 billion in 2024. How do you make a billion dollars from tokens? Let’s start with the stablecoin, USD1. As a stablecoin issuer, you take in dollars, hand out coins, and use the dollars to buy US Treasury bonds.

Then, you earn interest on Treasury bonds. The more coins you issue, the greater the amount of money you earn interest on. So the main trick is to convince someone to use your stablecoin and hand in the dollars to you, preferably in large amounts.

For USD1, that someone handing in the dollars was Binance, the world’s largest crypto exchange, which had pleaded guilty to US money-laundering violations in 2023. Binance reportedly wrote the computer code underpinning USD1 and promoted it on its platform.

Then, in May 2025, MGX – an Abu Dhabi state fund chaired by the United Arab Emirates’ national security adviser, Sheikh Tahnoon bin Zayed Al Nahyan – invested billion in Binance and paid in USD1. This instantly created $2 billion of interest-earning reserves for the Trump venture, worth an estimated million a year.

Binance today holds 87% of all USD1. The Securities and Exchange Commission dropped its lawsuit against Binance days after the exchange listed USD1, and in October 2025 Trump pardoned Binance’s founder, Changpeng Zhao. A Wall Street Journal investigation later revealed Sheikh Tahnoon had also secretly bought a 49% stake in World Liberty itself for about $500 million, four days before Trump’s inauguration.

The $TRUMP memecoin required even less effort. With memecoin, you simply let speculators buy a digital asset that is effectively pure hype packaged as a currency. You make money on every trade. And because anyone, anywhere can buy the coin anonymously, legal experts warn that it operates as a channel for untraceable gifts to Trump and his family.

Some buyers openly spent 8 million in memecoin for seats at a dinner with Trump. Like most memecoins, $TRUMP collapsed after the initial hype: it now trades at about 98% below its peak.

A Reuters investigation of Trump and his family’s four main crypto ventures – World Liberty, the memecoin business, American Bitcoin and AI Financial Corp – found the family has gained about .3 billion since Trump retook office, almost exactly matching the amount lost by more than a million investors.

Without precedent Some of the crypto regulations issued under Trump are good policy. For example, the GENIUS Act clarifies the rules of the game for all – something the crypto industry had sought for years. But all the useful crypto regulation is at risk of being undermined by stories of special favours and institutionalised corruption in Trump’s crypto ventures.

It’s also likely to undermine the US reputation for the rule of law, as Trump’s crypto dealings are without precedent in US history: anyone seeking presidential favour can simply buy the president’s coin.

Marta Khomyn does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Original source: https://analysis1.mil-osi.com/2026/07/02/trump-has-made-more-than-1-billion-from-crypto-in-a-year-how/

Qi Yang/Getty Images The Trump administration’s recent decision to block foreign access to advanced artificial intelligence (AI) models has reignited AI sovereignty debates – where nations strive to build and maintain their own AI, rather than using models developed elsewhere.

Recently, Defence Minister Richard Marles weighed in, telling a defence conference that Australia should “build some agency” in relation to AI. But what does such “agency” look like? Australia can’t brute force its way to frontier AI capability.

The costs are prohibitive and Australia has few natural advantages. Instead, the immediate priority should be influencing how the United States shares AI models with allies for collective benefit. What’s frontier AI? Frontier AI refers to large-scale models that have cutting edge performance across a range of tasks.

Earlier this month, the US government slapped export controls on Anthropic’s latest frontier models – Mythos and Fable – over concerns that their safety guardrails could be bypassed or “jailbroken”. Anthropic insists its guardrails are robust compared to other widely available models.

The White House claimed they’re too dangerous to release to non-US citizens. Whatever the claims and counterclaims, the ban sent governments and businesses scrambling for workarounds. Even though the export controls have now been lifted, the episode raises troubling questions about the future of frontier AI access for everyday consumers.

Not just ‘teething problems’ The stakes are high because models like Mythos are especially good at finding software vulnerabilities. Cyber security leaders urged the US government to lift the export controls so as to not take the best models away from coders and other security professionals who uphold cyber security.

Marles described the export controls as “teething problems”. AI policy expert Dean Ball, who previously advised Trump’s AI strategy and will soon join OpenAI, has been less reassuring. Ball expects that a US licensing regime for AI models is inevitable but it will be “informal, with no consistent rules or firm boundaries on state power or public transparency”.

That is perhaps the worst possible scenario for countries like Australia that rely heavily on American technologies. Australia may find itself in a long queue for the latest models, or navigating an opaque licensing regime where access can be abruptly revoked.

Australia already faced a two-month delay to access Mythos Preview, Anthropic’s restricted model for trusted cyber organisations. The White House is also now controlling access to OpenAI’s latest GPT-5.6 model, starting with a small number of approved US organisations.

As concerning as these events are, Australia should not see it as a signal to pursue frontier AI. That would be an inefficient – and probably unsuccessful – use of Australia’s limited resources. Why Australia shouldn’t make its own frontier AI First, consider the price tag.

The eye-watering cost of training a frontier model is forecast to exceed a billion US dollars by 2027. Then consider the experience of countries such as France, the United Arab Emirates, Japan, South Korea, India and Switzerland, who have all invested billions into domestic AI capability.

These investments help to improve technological choice, redundancy and national AI skills – all worthwhile goals. Yet none of these countries have so far produced an AI model with comparable performance to leading American or Chinese ones.

And performance does matter. Crucially, it matters when AI is used for national security, such as finding malware or providing battlefield support. In these use cases, accessing the best models with the least delay enhances defence and deterrence.

Instead of competing at the frontier, Australia should make pragmatic investments where we have greater maturity and agency, for example in critical minerals, data centre infrastructure and specialised data sets for AI training. In frontier model development, Australia has few advantages and is unlikely to catch up to American firms.

We need to shape our own access In the near term, a degree of reliance on American frontier AI is inevitable. Nevertheless, Australia can shape what access to such models will look like. We should argue for trusted US allies and partners to have priority access to the most powerful models.

The United Kingdom is reportedly already lobbying for access to future models through a list of whitelisted countries. The matter was also raised by leaders in the sidelines of the latest Group of Seven (G7) Summit.

Alternatively, a system of tiered access could be established: more powerful models could only be available to national security agencies or vetted organisations for defensive purposes. This is similar to how OpenAI already provides differentiated levels of access to its GPT-5.5-Cyber model depending on the user and use case.

Where there are concerns about jailbreaking, independent experts should evaluate AI models and recommend additional safeguards. This creates a more transparent system where models are blocked surgically and only when backed by verifiable evidence. Australia’s new AI Safety Institute, together with safety institutes in like-minded countries, could contribute to this technical work.

Lastly, Australia should remind Washington that frontier AI provides a powerful tool for allies and partners to contribute to collective security – from securing critical infrastructure to driving the economic growth that funds defence spending. Hoarding the technologies, on the other hand, sows doubt about the United States’ reliability as a technology supplier and a security partner.

The recent events with Mythos have certainly done that. The next Mythos is just around the corner.

Australia can either be proactive with shaping the rules of access now or accept a future where the rules lock us out.

Olivia Shen works for the United States Studies Centre, which has previously received funding from the Australian Government to convene dialogues on AI policy.

Original source: https://analysis1.mil-osi.com/2026/07/02/australia-shouldnt-try-to-build-its-own-frontier-ai-heres-why/

Cottonbro studio/Pexels Australia has a mental health crisis. The Productivity Commission has found mental health issues cost Australia up to A$200 billion to $220 billion per year – one tenth of annual economic output. Job stress is a major contributing factor to that crisis, affecting both physical and mental health.

Using data from 2007 to 2021, an Australian study found employees who suffered moderate or high psychological distress took more sick leave, were less productive at work and were more likely to be underemployed. This is backed up by data from Safe Work Australia.

In 2022–23, work-related mental-health problems kept employees off work five times longer (or about 35 weeks) than average serious claims. Women are more affected than men. Working from home, or even hybrid work, does not seem to be a simple solution either.

Recent Australian research conducted post-pandemic found employees experienced more negative emotions, loneliness, depression and anxiety if they were working from home or had a hybrid working arrangement.

The key factors behind workplace depression Our recent research, based on UK data, matches workers and employers to show how managers can potentially affect the work-related depression of their employees – for better and for worse.

We found work-related depression is widespread; about 49% of the 20,000 employees surveyed said their job made them feel depressed at least some of the time in the past few weeks. Job demands, such as work pressure and not having enough time to do the tasks required, are associated with more work-related depression.

By loading up workers and putting them under excessive pressure to finish their work, managers can increase work-related depression, the research found. Australian research shows additional job demands also include bureaucratic hassles, emotionally taxing work, and workplace conflict.

This means mental health is a management issue, especially as many employees now face faster-paced work and more multitasking. Fortunately, managers can also make things better. One way is for employees to have greater autonomy at work.

More autonomy – in terms of being able to determine how to do the work, start/finish times, the tasks performed, the pace of work and the order in which tasks are done – is linked with less work-related depression.

Having autonomy allows an employee to structure their work day in such a way as to minimise negative impacts. Paradoxically, this runs counter to the push for higher-level management to have more control, and the growing use of software that allows for remote monitoring of employees.

Similarly, if an employee feels supported by their manager (and their coworkers), they have better work-related mental health outcomes. We also found that employees with greater job security had less work-related depression. Pressure and tight deadlines can contribute to workplace depression.

AnVr/Getty Images Pick your employer wisely Our findings have implications for workers, managers and policymakers. For workers, choose your employer wisely as it can impact your health as well as your income! Easier said than done, of course.

Some information about employers is available on crowdsourced sites such as Glassdoor, but managerial practices are hard to observe from outside and are subject to change. So there is a case for the mandatory reporting by firms of “psychosocial hazards”, which are aspects of a workplace or its culture that can cause psychological or physical harm.

This reporting would be similar to current reporting on gender pay gaps. This is a logical next step. Safe Work Australia already requires businesses to monitor and consult on psychosocial hazards. Public reporting would create an incentive for companies to do better and allow for better choices by potential employees.

The spotlight of mandatory reporting of the gender pay gap has helped to improve this gap in recent years. Work conditions matter Managers need to recognise that costly mental health problems are partially driven by their choices of management practices and work conditions.

Ultimately, poor mental health outcomes at work hurt the bottom line. First, Australian businesses with employees who have better mental health are more productive. Second, the cost of workers’ compensation is levied on business, making them less competitive.

Over the ten years to 2023–24, serious mental-health compensation claims went up by 161% in Australia, the largest increase of any workplace injury. Work pressure accounted for about 25% of serious mental stress claims, with harassment/bullying (33%) and exposure to violence and harassment (16%) the other top causes, Safe Work Australia found.

Management can potentially reduce all three. The costs are shared by society Finally, the costs of serious workplace mental-health issues are borne by the community, through lower productivity, and also create a burden on the public-health system.

The costs can be long-lived; research suggest burnout affects not only the individual involved, but also reduces spousal income and the education levels attained by their children. This suggests it’s in the national interest to improve management skills.

Good management boosts profit, but it also reduces the costs to the public-health system. If this article has raised issues for you, or if you’re concerned about someone you know, call Lifeline on 13 11 14. Workplace Trauma, Abuse, or Bullying: Call 1800 RESPECT at 1800 737 732 or text 0458 737 732 to access 24/7 specialised counselling.

13YARN is a free and confidential 24/7 national crisis support line for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people who are having difficulty coping.

Call 13 92 76.

The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Original source: https://analysis1.mil-osi.com/2026/07/02/workplace-depression-is-common-managers-can-make-it-worse-or-better/

Liberal frontbencher Julian Leeser has a lot on his plate. As shadow education minister, he’s managing the opposition’s response to the government’s overhaul of universities, a vital sector he says is facing “a loss of confidence”.

As spokesman on Indigenous Australians, Leeser – who supported the Voice to parliament last term – is looking for a “new direction” in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander affairs.

He’s also the opposition’s leading Jewish voice and will soon appear at the royal commission on antisemitism to talk about the “explosion” in hate against Jewish Australians – and what more should be done about it.

Leeser joins the podcast to talk about these issues, as well as the parlous state of the Liberal Party. After having previously worked as the Australian Catholic University’s director of government policy and strategy, Leeser said only a decade ago universities were a “growing, confident part of Australia”.

But that’s changed: I think there’s a lack of confidence in higher education at the moment. When I went to the University Australia conference, the universities themselves are talking about issues around their social licence to operate.

You’ve had the antisemitism crisis that’s been on campus, you’ve had issues around [artificial intelligence] and cheating factories. You’ve issues around foreign interference on our campuses. And I think there’s a loss of confidence that the broader public has in the sector.

But I think it’s also a loss of confidence within the sector itself. On fighting foreign intimidation After Australian security officials concluded the Iranian government directed at least two antisemitic arson attacks in Sydney in Melbourne, the Iranian ambassador to Australia was expelled.

But Leeser argues Australia should go further and fully close the Iranian embassy. He said Persian Australians in his New South Wales electorate of Berowra continue to be intimidated by Iran. I represent the third largest Persian community in Australia.

And for years, the Persian community has been coming to me and talking to me about the fears that they have of being intimidated and being surveilled by the embassy. […] Recently we had the director-general of security [ASIO chief Mike Burgess] give his annual threat assessment.

He mentioned Iran there 16 times.

He said that his great worry was that there would be some form of attack of the sort that they’re seen in Europe, where an Iranian-backed person effectively attacks an Australian here. […] We’ve already seen Iran attack Australia twice: at the Adass Israel synagogue bombing [in Melbourne] and at the Lewis Continental Kitchen firebombing [in Sydney].

I think the Iranian embassy continues – at least this is what my Persian community says to me – that they continue to be a source of surveillance, they continue be a sort of intimidation for law-abiding Australians.

And we just shouldn’t have any of it.

Needing more leadership on antisemitism Leeser said antisemitism was a problem in Australia long before the October 7, 2023, terrorist attacks in Israel – but that there has been an “explosion” of anti-Jewish hate following that and the Bondi terrorist attack last year.

One of the reasons I think we saw an explosion after October 7 was because the leaders in government, in law enforcement, in universities and the Human Rights Commission were not strong enough, early enough, to crack down on things […] You had those protests outside the Opera House where people were saying, ‘gas the Jews’ or ‘where’s the Jews’, and burning flags and so on.

And rather than clamping down on that vigorously, these things were allowed to fester. So I blame the leadership of Australia at the time, at those various levels. I think that’s the first thing you need to deal with with antisemitism.

Running a society, I often say, is like running a family. Children, like societies, need boundaries. They crave boundaries and they want to see those boundaries enforced. And they were not enforced.

‘A new direction’ in Indigenous affairs In a submission to a parliamentary inquiry into racism, hate and violence directed at Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, the Australian Council of Trade Unions has renewed its push for a national representative body for Indigenous Australians.

But despite being someone who supported an Indigenous Voice to parliament, Leeser now has a different view – and flags what he will be raising in coming weeks instead.

I think after the [Voice] referendum we needed a new direction to move beyond the Uluru Statement […] So I think some of the big challenges we’ve got to face is Indigenous school attendance and school retention, and I’m looking forward to saying a few things about those in the coming weeks.

We’ve got to do some things around Indigenous suicide, which continues to go backwards. And we’ve got do something about the fact that I think something like 47% or more of Australia’s land mass is under Indigenous title.

We need to be able to unlock intergenerationally transformative economic opportunity that hasn’t been done there. […] In a broader Australian community, people often take their house and use the equity in their home to start a business, because you’ve got the freehold, you’re able to borrow against that.

You can’t do that with a lot of Indigenous title.

We want to be able to drive economic aspiration and economic opportunity from Indigenous land rights […] and that’s why we need I think to look at this and work out what are the things that we can do to get better economic benefits.

Michelle Grattan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Original source: https://analysis1.mil-osi.com/2026/07/02/politics-with-michelle-grattan-julian-leeser-on-fighting-an-explosion-of-hate-in-australia/

Elon Musk, briefly the world’s first trillionaire – but now a mere billionaire again – is a man of exceptions. He’s built not one, but two of the world’s most pioneering technology companies (Tesla and SpaceX).

He was talking about settling humans on Mars with a straight face some 20 years ago. Unlike most tech CEOs, he posts on social media multiple times daily, via his own platform, X. In 2025, he gave what looked like a Nazi salute, very publicly, in Washington DC.

That same year, he held a very senior role in the United States government, with no prior political experience, while simultaneously expanding his business empire. In his brief and chaotic tenure as head of the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), he tried to turn government into a problem of data synthesis and pattern recognition, leading to optimised policy solutions.

All the while, he seemed to forget that real people, entitled to fairness and justice, were affected profoundly by his desk-based decisions. All this has made him a household name and one of the world’s most powerful individuals.

Some, like journalist Cory Doctorow, have been asking: is he now exceptionally dangerous? And where does he fit in with other oft-criticised West Coast “broligarchs”, like Amazon’s Jeff Bezos, Palantir’s Alexander Karp and Meta’s Mark Zuckerberg?

Review: Muskism: A Guide for the Perplexed – Quinn Slobodian and Ben Tarnoff (Allen Lane) To answer these questions, you need to scrutinise both the man and the means at his disposal. This is exactly what Canadian political economist Quinn Slobodian and technology journalist Ben Tarnoff do in their carefully researched, well written and thought-provoking book, Muskism: A Guide for the Perplexed.

“Muskism” is a reference to “Fordism”, named after industrialist and motor vehicle manufacturer Henry Ford, whose mass production model altered American government and society for 40 years, from around 1935. The authors argue that Musk (along with other tech titans) is building a far-reaching industrial edifice that is similarly transforming society.

But while Ford and other mega-companies were the basis of mass employment, decent wages, strong social security and mass consumption in postwar America, Musk’s companies aim to forge a very different socioeconomic order. This order is stupendously networked, massively surveilled, anti-liberal and insular.

Under Muskism, the authors argue, oligarchs and national governments together use advanced technology to weaken democracy, divide the population, impose social hierarchy and immunise themselves from serious external threats. South Africa as cradle of Muskism “To understand the world that Musk aims to build, we have to understand the worlds that built Musk,” Slobodian and Tarnoff write.

The first of these worlds was 1970s South Africa, where Musk was born and raised – none too happily, by a wealthy family – during the final years of the apartheid regime. “South Africa was the cradle of Muskism,” they write.

“It taught the lesson of fortress futurism: the belief that technology can strengthen self-reliance in a hostile world.” Systemic racism organised the entire society Musk grew up in. State and big business conspired to favour whites, using elaborate bureaucratic procedures and numerous laws – despite hostility outside the country.

Bookish, an early video gamer, a fan of sci-fi and new technology, Musk emigrated to Canada in 1989, aged 17, to avoid mandatory military service. He took his beliefs with him, rather than shedding them, say the authors.

By 1992, Musk was in the US, attending the University of Pennsylvania to study physics and economics. By 1995, he was in Palo Alto, establishing his first tech-start-up (called Zip2) and later on, X.com, a firm that would merge with Peter Thiel’s PayPal.

By 2002, he was incredibly rich; he set up SpaceX that year. His involvement with Tesla began in 2004 and grew from there. In 2015, he helped found OpenAI. In 2016, he co-founded Neuralink, a firm seeking to integrate human minds with AI.

In 2017, he founded the Boring Company, focused on tunnelling and underground transport. In late 2022, he acquired Twitter, and eight months later, founded xAI (with its Grok chatbot). Then in 2025, he was head of DOGE, before falling out with President Donald Trump.

All this occurred before Musk was 55. By almost any standards, his list of accomplishments and activities has been extraordinary. A white South African immigrant now commands the heights of American power, his influence global. This is why Slobodian and Tarnoff propose the term “Muskism”, linking Musk the man – like Ford before him – to something far bigger that he’s built.

From Musk to Muskism There are now several biographies of Musk. Some are authorised, some not; some are celebratory, others very critical. Walter Isaacson’s Elon Musk (2023) is widely regarded as the most definitive account to date.

Other books situate Musk in a wider cast of American “tech lords”, notably Jacob Silverman’s Gilded Rage: Elon Musk and the Radicalization of Silicon Valley (2025). Slobodian and Tarnoff believe Musk is somewhat different to his big tech peers.

They link his unusual South African upbringing and beliefs to his capacity to amass social power in an equally unusual way. Musk “sells the fantasy that, in an increasingly unstable world, both states and individuals can fortify their self-reliance by plugging into his infrastructures,” they write.

“The paradox is that, in doing so, you become reliant on him”. They describe Muskism as a blend of proven technologies, technological promises-cum-prophecies, relationships between business and the state, and memes designed to sell and legitimise Musk’s business empire.

Together, these things promote “techo-sovereignty”, where advanced technology produced by private companies allows a national government and its preferred citizens to project power overseas, while reducing their own vulnerability to external shocks or enemies. The system ensures American wealth in a post-free trade era where China, Russia and Iran are seen as threats.

And it’s one many can’t see, even as it negatively affects the world we all inhabit. Space, electric vehicles and social media SpaceX and Tesla are at the heart of Musk’s success, but so – increasingly – is X.

The first two companies pioneered unlikely technologies in the US private sector: space rockets, satellites and electric vehicles. Musk, the authors show, drove innovation relentlessly, while raising a lot of money (through effective hype and sales pitches – or, “future fabulation”).

He built vertically integrated firms to reduce reliance on outside suppliers. For instance, today Tesla produces not only vehicles, but also batteries, at a very large scale. It has now expanded into renewable energy battery systems.

It looks like an old-style Fordist conglomerate in some respects, without the “bother”, the authors write, of large unionised work forces. Musk’s recognition of the power of the national state, and the benefits of partnering with it, is clearest when it comes to SpaceX.

It is a preferred US government supplier, contractor and partner, with few to no rivals. Notably, the US military uses Starlink, SpaceX’s low-orbit satellite internet system. This suggests a more intimate relationship between government and big business than during Ford’s era.

“State symbiosis”, rather than open market competition, is Musk’s preference when he can achieve it. In the case of Tesla, Obama-era worries about the Chinese economic “threat” and climate change allowed Musk to gain massive federal support after the financial crisis.

This gave him an advantage over other American vehicle manufacturers, who were barely in the electric vehicle game at the time. From 2017, Musk became “extremely online, an incurable poster” on what was then Twitter. First, to spruik his companies.

Later, to broadcast his increasingly right-wing ideas – which have keyed into a resurgent populism in the US and elsewhere. ‘We are the AI collectively’ Musk started to post about a so-called “woke mind virus” in late 2022, around the time he took over Twitter and renamed it X.

Since then, the authors write, he’s posted incendiary comments about immigrants, LGBTQIA+ people, low birth-rates among whites, the decline of the West, and more. The book’s chapters on Neuralink, Musk’s human brain chip venture, and xAI, his artificial intelligence company, consider him in this context.

In a conversation with OpenAI’s Sam Altman in 2016, Musk said: if we all “become an AI–human symbiote, we don’t have to worry about some sort of evil dictator AI because we are the AI collectively”.

Musk appears to imagine a cyborg future, where the digital and biological merge. Who will control the cognitive and informational ecosystem this would produce? This may all sound vaguely comical and implausible: Musk as a Bond villain plotting to rule the world via far-reaching digital, robotic and vehicular gadgets.

But Slobodian and Tarnoff remind us that Musk’s business acumen and commitment to technological success really have allowed him to concretise a particular vision of how the world ought to be. Will Muskism grow?

To use a computer science term, Musk is seemingly trying to build an encompassing “superset” of interlocking parts, ranging from energy and transportation to communication. This is the message of Slobodian and Tarnoff’s fascinating book.

Unlike Bill Gates, or Palantir’s Alexander Karp and Peter Thiel, Musk has refrained from setting out his credo in books and manifestos. But his actions suggest he’s a man on a mission. Who knows how powerful he might become, or what new technologies he may successfully commercialise, with state support?

Will Muskism grow in scale, scope and influence? Though he doesn’t use the term Muskism, critic Nick Srnicek believes it’s already a formidable apparatus. This book sheds important light on how one man is trying to remake the world in his own image – while the rest of us haven’t even been consulted.

It makes it clear that no society should ever allow a small number of individuals to possess the power he currently possesses.

Just as we abhor the idea of that millions should be allowed starve to death, we should oppose the idea that unelected oligarchs get to determine our future.

Noel Castree does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Original source: https://analysis1.mil-osi.com/2026/06/30/elon-musk-is-remaking-the-world-like-henry-ford-before-him-but-more-dangerously/

torook/Shutterstock Pest control means dealing with the kinds of animals many of us try our best to avoid. But catching rats and battling cockroaches turns out to be very satisfying work. My research reveals that this surprising level of job satisfaction comes from the variety, challenge and connection pest controllers experience.

They also told me their work had a positive effect on people’s lives. I discovered this after spending the last few years immersed in the world of professional pest control. I’ve attended trade shows, read industry magazines, interviewed pest controllers and accompanied them on their call outs.

One thing that stood out was the range of pests involved, and the different places in which they appear. Both provide opportunities for pest controllers to engage in problem solving and detective work. Most pest controllers are generalists who will deal with a wide range of wildlife, from rats and mice to wasps, bedbugs and moths.

And every infestation needs a nuanced understanding of animal behaviour. I was told that pest control work, particularly in people’s homes, requires changing tactics and adaptability. For example, some animals learn to avoid traps or develop resistance to certain chemicals.

The unpredictability prevents the work from becoming monotonous and routine. As one pest controller explained: “There’s no such thing as a [typical] job for a rat or a mouse. They’re always different. Different homes, different scenarios, different entry points.

Different motivations, different food sources.” Another said: “Every day is different [and] they’re all interesting. They all have their moments. Every job is bespoke.” Pest controllers also tend to experience a relatively large amount of freedom and autonomy over how and when they work, both as sole contractors and as employees of larger companies.

Many were also interested in understanding the animals’ biology, habitats and behaviour, and enjoyed engaging with the natural world. Many expressed a fascination and curiosity towards the species they dealt with, with some highlighting a favourite.

And despite the spectre of animal death, I noticed a wide appreciation of nature within the industry. It’s not all perks, though. Pest control often means working in unpleasant environments like drains or loft spaces filled with bird excrement.

There are also ethical issues, with some pest controllers privately expressing guilt or discomfort when killing certain species. But generally, pest controllers were compassionate, often choosing methods that, although deadly, would minimise suffering for the creatures involved.

And despite pest control being an important part of public health, the job is often held in low social esteem, with little appreciation for the skills and knowledge the work involves.

As one of my interviewees told me: “You’re seen as a kind of neanderthal, or a knuckle dragger that hits small furry animals with sticks.” I heard of customers asking technicians to park away from the home they were visiting, to enter via a backdoor, or to use vans without logos, to avoid the public embarrassment of calling in pest control.

Some workers experienced open disdain, with customers refusing use of their bathrooms or making derisory comments about their work.

One interviewee from a family business described how his adult son had been checking bait boxes under a sink in a school staff room and heard a teacher commenting: “Cor, imagine, doing that all your life.” The rat race And despite the welcome autonomy, a lot of pest control involves working alone, which can lead to isolation and mental health difficulties.

However, this was often mitigated by strong friendships across the industry (despite many small business owners technically being in direct competition with each other), and the sense of meaningful social benefit their work provided, particularly when dealing with residential customers.

As one pest controller explained: “I find it so, so rewarding, seeing people going from [so distressed to being] so happy and so grateful.” Another added: “I love getting to know my customers, having that banter and being able to solve people’s problems and have them put that element of trust in me.” Roach-ready?

SILVIA MAQQ/Shutterstock Some pest controllers also prioritised compassion over profit, informally providing discounts or additional visits for pensioners or poorer customers, enabling them to perform work that was meaningful and rewarding. But while the industry is very keen to welcome new recruits, pest control is not for everyone.

Personally, I would get far too attached to my unintended rodent housemates to even require pest control in the first place. And pest management does raise tricky questions about animal welfare, and the environmental impact of chemicals.

But my research with pest controllers gives an indication of some of the key qualities that make work enjoyable and meaningful. These include variety, autonomy, connection to others, and the capacity to perform socially beneficial work.

And if you can find all of those things in pest control, it looks like the future will be full of opportunity.

Hannah Fair receives funding from the UK Economic and Social Research Council, and has previously received funds from the Royal Geographical Society.

As part of her research into the UK pest control industry she is a member of the British Pest Control Association’s (BPCA) Academic Relations Working Group.

Original source: https://analysis1.mil-osi.com/2026/07/01/the-joy-of-pests-study-reveals-why-rat-catchers-are-so-happy-in-their-work/

A sign in a small town in Kansas opposes a proposal for a data center nearby. Michael Siluk/UCG/Universal Images Group via Getty Images Data center projects continue to generate controversy around the country.

In part, that’s because a variety of different groups have competing interests – some in favor of them, some opposed and others with no direct view on data centers themselves, but with concerns that relate to aspects of data center operations and effects.

As a scholar of environmental justice and urban land use, I’ve seen these various conflicting forces at work in Michigan. More than 30 large and small data center projects have been proposed in the state in the past two years alone, including one by the university where I work.

Michigan Gov. Gretchen Whitmer, center, has been criticized for participating in this photo op at the construction site for a new data center in her state. Related Digital via Planet Detroit Gov. Gretchen Whitmer is enthusiastic about bringing technology companies to the state, even posing with tech company CEOs in photo ops at the sites of proposed data centers.

But not everyone is as excited.

In just one example of the opposition these projects can face, the local water company where I live, the Ypsilanti Community Utilities Authority, told the state it would not supply water for cooling a data center that the University of Michigan and Los Alamos National Laboratory had proposed within its service area.

So the University of Michigan proposed a different site in the next town over, Superior Township. That town manages its own water but gets its supply by buying it from both the Ypsilanti Community Utilities Authority and Ann Arbor township.

A look at some of the forces at play around these projects reveals the deep issues they raise. The fights about data centers can often take the form of collisions between companies and community members.

But they also reflect conflict about social values, democratic systems and capitalist interests. Tech companies Tech companies have an obvious desire to store and process ever more data. And many key aspects of society rely on the data centers that have been built over the decades, serving websites, handling online purchases and delivering emails, text messages and alert notices.

The latest push is related to the anticipated demand for artificial intelligence systems in the business world and in people’s lives – and the resulting increased demand for computing capacity to process all those requests and filter through all the available information to provide responses.

The corporate pressures to grow, to continue increasing profits for shareholders and to squeeze more revenue from workers and assets keep these tech companies seeking more land on which to build more data centers. And the Michigan Legislature has openly courted tech companies, passing laws that exempt data center operators from sales and use taxes they would otherwise have to pay.

Data centers, like this one in Georgia, use large amounts of electricity. AP Photo/Mike Stewart Electricity companies Many power companies are regulated by state or local governments and are not allowed to make profits off maintaining existing service or selling electricity.

Their profits come from building new power plants, new transformers and substations, and new power lines – and passing those costs along to customers, with a markup for profit.

A data center can require significant investment in power generation and transmission – a data center proposed by Google in Van Buren Township, Michigan, for example, would require “2.7 gigawatts of electricity – a massive amount of power equivalent to the demand of about 2 million homes,” according to a local news report.

So a power company is likely to be eager to capitalize on the opportunity for a new major customer and may be willing to endure some amount of public backlash. Power companies that operate in small geographic areas are highly dependent on the success of the municipalities from which they draw their customers and in which they build their infrastructure.

In these situations, they have a vested interest in local economic growth, specifically the movement to the area of companies that supply jobs and, therefore, workers. This drives them to get involved in local political decision-making by lobbying for zoning changes to enable data centers.

Larger utility companies that operate regionally or across entire states are less tied to the economic success of a specific municipality within their service area. But they are also able to target their influence at state lawmakers.

For example, DTE Energy assured state lawmakers that the proposed data center in Van Buren Township would not raise customers’ power rates. People packed a local meeting room in Evanston, Wyo., for a public hearing on a proposed data center.

Natalie Behring/Getty Images Community leaders Community leaders and elected officials are often interested in the jobs that tech companies promise will come with the data centers, so they tend to support approval of permits, zoning amendments or other legal changes.

Although data centers don’t really create very many jobs, they do have the potential to contribute to local property taxes, which can appeal to small towns without many other options. Cities and towns are always on the hunt for growth opportunities, seeking additional tax revenue.

That can lead them to feel pressure to build new roads, modify their land-use ordinances and approve requests from companies wishing to build within their boundaries. My research has found that this pressure exists even in shrinking or small cities.

This pressure has increased as cities have sought to reduce taxes on residents. The solution they see to getting fewer dollars out of existing residents is to bring in more businesses, more industry and more new residents.

That makes them interested in welcoming data centers. However, not every community leader is on board with data centers. Some oppose them but feel hamstrung or powerless to stop or slow their progress, as occurred in Ypsilanti Township and in nearby Saline Township as well.

People in Saline, Mich., hold signs opposing a data center proposed in their community. Jim West/UCG/Universal Images Group via Getty Images Everyday people In many communities, everyday people concerned with noise, land use, water use and power use oppose the data centers.

They are also concerned about the costs data centers may impose on utility ratepayers, taxpayers and those who must experience the environmental effects. People’s power, exercised through democratic processes such as public hearings, ordinance revisions and elections, can be overwhelmed by the tech companies and aligned groups.

But voters do have power. In June 2026, Utah voters unseated a longtime legislative leader, state Senate President Stuart Adams, who had helped get approval for a massive data center in the northwestern part of the state.

Whether a data center moves forward in a municipality ends up being a matter of how public officials sort through the motivations and sociopolitical power of all these players.

Lauren Mullenbach does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Original source: https://analysis1.mil-osi.com/2026/07/01/data-center-fights-pit-social-values-democracy-and-capitalism-against-each-other/