By Margot Staunton, RNZ Pacific senior journalist

Samoa police have launched an investigation into a bizarre international case involving two Samoan men who have appeared on Vietnamese television confessing to the murder of a Sydney gang leader in Ho Chi Minh City.
The Samoa Observer reported that Joseph Vaa, 27, admitted gunning down suspected “Coconut Cartel” ringleader Lorenzo Lemalu Tovia outside a restaurant on May 21. Vaa’s associate, Steve Tofa, 23, has confessed to being his accomplice in the shooting.
Tovia died at the scene while his associate Sauni Sam, 27, is in intensive care in hospital with serious injuries.

READ MORE: Other Samoan crime reports

A video posted by Vietnamese television channel VTV9 showed Vaa and Tofa wearing black hoods and handcuffs while being marched into a room by police to confess.

Original source: https://analysis1.mil-osi.com/2026/05/27/samoan-police-investigate-after-pair-admit-killing-coconut-cartel-ringleader-in-vietnam/

engin akyurt/Unsplash Headlines might describe meat as “a significant health risk” or “essential for a healthy and balanced diet”. So what’s behind these seemingly contradicatory statements? Our new research suggests one reason is who pays for the science behind the studies we see discussed online or via social media.

We examined whether meat industry involvement is linked to how scientific papers portray the health effects of eating meat. We found studies with ties to the meat industry were 16 times more likely to conclude meat is harmless or beneficial, compared with studies without such ties.

Conflicts of interest in nutrition research are not new. Analyses of sugar, ultra-processed foods, and drinks have found the same pattern: industry-funded studies are more likely to produce outcomes that favour the sponsor’s commercial interests.

This can muddy the evidence base used to guide dietary guidelines and policy, which can influence consumers’ choices. What we did The meat industry’s role in shaping nutrition science has received little systematic scrutiny.

Our aim was to address this through a simple question: when the meat industry is involved in a study, does that change the study’s conclusion about meat’s health effects? We searched for nutrition studies published between 2014 and 2023 that examined how eating meat relates to health.

For each study, we recorded declared funding sources, author affiliations and declared conflicts of interest. For example, a study that declared funding by Meat & Livestock Australia was identified as a study with industry ties. We then classified the paper’s conclusion about meat as favourable, neutral or unfavourable.

For example, if a study concluded eating meat may cause cancer, this was classified as unfavourable. We then analysed whether those conclusions were associated with meat industry ties. We were testing whether there was a statistical link between industry involvement and a more positive “spin” on meat.

What we found Of the 500 studies included, 78 (15.6%) reported some form of industry involvement. Studies that disclosed ties to meat related organisations were 16 times more likely to conclude meat was beneficial. Studies that did not provide a funding statement or conflict of interest declaration also tended to report more positive findings, raising further questions about transparency in nutrition research.

Perhaps there was meat industry involvement in this research but it was not declared. We have no way of knowing. Importantly, we were not judging whether individual studies were “right” or “wrong” about meat’s contribution to health.

Instead, we showed that the pattern of conclusions in the literature is strongly linked to who is paying the bills. This finding is consistent with broader work on food industry sponsorship and outcomes in nutrition science.

Why it matters Most people will never read an academic paper, but many will encounter its findings via news stories, social media, industry communications or even dietary guidelines. Journalists and policymakers often rely on “the weight of the evidence” when deciding what messages to send about meat and health.

If industry involvement systematically tilts that evidence base, the public may be misinformed about foods in ways that do not fully reflect all the independent science. For people trying to make sense of conflicting nutrition headlines, this means apparent scientific disagreement may reflect differences in who supported the research, not differences in the data.

Our findings do not mean every study with meat industry ties study is invalid, nor that independent studies are by default of higher quality. But they do suggest industry involvement should be treated as a key piece of information when weighing up nutrition claims.

For readers, a useful rule of thumb is to look beyond the headline and ask: who funded this study, and do the authors have financial ties to the products being discussed? Journalists can help by routinely reporting funding sources and conflicts of interest when covering nutrition stories, and by seeking independent experts to contextualise new findings.

What needs to happen next? Our study adds to growing calls for stronger safeguards around conflicts of interest in nutrition research. At a minimum, clear disclosure of funding sources and conflicts of interest should be non negotiable, and journals should enforce these policies consistently.

However, disclosure only tells us a conflict exists. It does not remove the conflict. Managing, and ideally eliminating conflicts of interest should be a higher priority than solely declaring them. One way to do this is through greater public and independent funding to enable researchers to conduct studies without relying on support from commercial industries.

The public rightly expects nutrition advice to be grounded in the best available evidence. Our findings suggest that when it comes to meat, industry involvement can tilt that evidence in a certain direction.

Recognising and correcting for that tilt is an essential step towards more trustworthy dietary guidance.

Navid Teimouri receives funding from an Australian government research training program (RTP) scholarship for higher degree by research students.

Katherine Cullerton receives funding from the World Health Organization and NHMRC.

Original source: https://analysis1.mil-osi.com/2026/05/27/how-big-meat-shapes-science-to-give-steak-a-healthy-glow-up/

Most of us don’t worry too much about where our data goes. We store documents in the cloud, collaborate online with Slack and Zoom and rely on platforms like Microsoft 365, Amazon Web Services and Google Workspace.

These tools are efficient, convenient and deeply embedded in how universities, businesses and governments operate. Our everyday digital life also involves online banking and payment systems, streaming platforms like Netflix and Disney+, news and social media platforms, loyalty programs, fitness apps and smart-home services.

Many of these services are developed, hosted or routed outside Canada. They are part of global systems shaped by governance frameworks, commercial interests and geopolitical dynamics. This raises simple but uncomfortable questions: Who controls the systems through which our data flows?

Who can access our data and how is is used? The answers to these questions impact our privacy, as well as the autonomy of our institutions and the economic competitiveness and sovereignty of our nation.

Data sovereignty is not just a technical issue — it is a collective challenge that all Canadians need to start taking seriously. CTV’s Austin Lee tours ThinkOn’s data centre in Nepean, Ont., and considers data sovereignty.

Dual-use technologies In the United States, the 2018 CLOUD Act means that the government can demand access to data held by U.S.-based companies, even if that data belongs to foreigners and is stored on servers outside the U.S.

Read more: How Eurostack could offer Canada a route to digital independence from the United States This point was confirmed in an exchange between Microsoft and the French Senate, in which Microsoft admitted it cannot oppose an American injunction targeting data hosted in France.

This is why countries like France are moving some public services away from U.S.-based platforms and toward domestically or European-controlled alternatives. The concern is not that foreign providers are inherently dangerous, but that dependence on infrastructure controlled elsewhere can become a vulnerability.

Canada is not exempt.

Our reliance — across government and the public and private sectors — on platforms such as Microsoft, Amazon Web Services (which underpins our banking systems) and Google creates a tension between operational convenience and control over sensitive information.

This is also an example of a broader phenomenon known as “dual use.” Beneficial intent, harmful use Dual use refers to research, data and technologies that are developed for beneficial purposes but can also be repurposed in ways that are harmful or contrary to the public interest.

Familiar examples include nuclear research that can produce energy or weapons and biomedical research that can be used to support public health or create biological threats. However, dual use is not confined to these high-risk fields.

Dual-use dynamics are embedded in many areas of everyday research and innovation, including digital technologies, environmental data and even the social sciences. Read more: Is someone watching you?

Facial recognition tech is here and Canada offers little privacy protection What matters is not only what a technology is designed to do, but how it is taken up and used in different contexts, by whom and for what purposes.

Wildfire monitoring, doorbell cameras Health research data provides an example as it can be used to both improve care and enable new forms of surveillance — as with COVID-19 contact-tracing apps during the pandemic. Similarly, satellite imagery used for wildfire monitoring can support climate science and disaster response but is also used by open-source intelligence communities to identify military strikes in the war in Ukraine.

Artificial intelligence systems developed for productivity can also be adapted to generate deceptive content. Research in psychology or communication can be used to design effective public health campaigns or to shape political opinions. Smart-home technologies such as doorbell cameras can help protect homes and even help people find their pets, but also raise concerns about surveillance of a neighbourhood.

The original intent may be benevolent. But as knowledge, data and technologies circulate across institutions, sectors and countries, they can be repurposed in ways that are difficult to predict and with impacts that are hard to control.

Dual use, in this sense, is not a property of specific technologies. It is a feature of how modern knowledge and communications systems operate. Fragmented responsibility Responsibility for managing dual-use risks is spread between individual researchers, universities, companies and governments.

Each plays a role, but none has a full view of, or control over, how knowledge is used. In Canada, current approaches tend to focus on research security. This involves protecting sensitive data, managing partnerships and ensuring compliance with regulations.

These efforts are important, but they often address risks that have already been identified rather than anticipating those that are coming. Governments and research institutions are expected to manage these diverse risks, but their respective roles and powers are not clearly delineated.

The result is that while responsibility is widely shared, the regulatory toolkit is still fragmented and incomplete. Awareness is the first step Dual-use risks cannot be eliminated. They are part of a world in which knowledge is produced within global systems, information moves freely across borders and technologies are widely accessible.

The question is how to manage these risks in ways that are informed, proportionate and legitimate. That begins with awareness. For individuals, this means asking basic questions about the tools and platforms we use: Where is our data stored?

Who has access to it? What protections are in place and are they sufficient? For universities, it means integrating dual-use considerations into decisions about research, partnerships and infrastructure: Are researchers sufficiently informed and engaged? Are they adequately supported?

Are existing policies adapted to the range of potential risks? For governments, it means moving beyond reactive approaches toward co-ordinated strategies that align innovation, security and public accountability, and that provide clear, actionable guidance. A collective problem None of these responses is sufficient on their own.

Dual use is a collective problem. It requires shared attention, ongoing dialogue and a willingness to make trade-offs between different priorities. It also requires a shift in posture — from assuming that risks are isolated to certain sectors and managed elsewhere to recognizing that risks are diffuse and responsibility is distributed.

Awareness is not a solution in itself. But without it, there can be no sustained pressure — from citizens, institutions or governments — to take dual-use risks seriously and to act on them.

As debates over cloud infrastructure and data sovereignty continue, the question is no longer simply where our data is stored, but who ultimately controls how it can be used — and whether those uses align with our collective interests.

Bryn Williams-Jones 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/2026/05/27/after-you-upload-your-data-to-the-cloud-where-does-it-go-the-challenge-of-dual-use-technologies/

Erio Noen/Pexels It’s now a common experience to receive an AI-generated email that’s robotic and hollow, or get a stream of useless chatbot responses when you just need some help from customer service.

Worse yet, some people will dose up entire slide decks and project documentation with AI slop. Then there are the infamous cases of hallucinated references in a report by consulting firm Deloitte and in dozens of papers at a top AI research conference earlier this year.

The jagged frontier of AI continues on its paradoxical route. On the one hand, there’s increased adoption. On the other, increased concern about the limitations and risks posed by the technology.

While “slop” – in the context of poor quality AI content – was Merriam-Webster dictionary’s word of the year for 2025, tech executives are still keen for us to think differently, to view AI tools as cognitive enhancers.

But the industry doesn’t just facilitate slop. It’s also rife with “nothingburgers”. These are AI non-events that were wildly promoted and highly anticipated, but failed to deliver as expected in the real world.

An ‘education revolution’ that’s still pending Education, despite being one of the first victims of AI-driven plagiarism, was touted to be on track for a technological revival through AI tutors and personalised learning. In 2023, OpenAI, Microsoft and the Gates Foundation supported and funded the widely respected online learning non-profit Khan Academy to build Khanmigo, an AI tutor.

Founder and CEO Sal Khan claimed Khanmigo would “revolutionise education” in a TED talk viewed by millions. Three years later in 2026 the revolution is still pending, while Khanmigo has been declared dead. In Khan’s own words, “for a lot of students, it was a non-event”.

Khanmigo was designed not to provide direct answers in order to encourage learning and exploring. In practice, students didn’t engage at all. Many universities were quick to build AI tutors, but hard data on actual contributions to student success remains to be seen.

Cognitive offloading (using AI to reduce mental effort) and increased access to AI tools is a further contradiction in education. It’s in the interest of AI providers to get users hooked, so they will write more prompts and use more tokens.

Prompt chaining is a creative technique used by all most advanced AI models to predict potential next tasks as part of the response to the original prompt. A chatbot might answer a question about a classic novel, and then follow it with something like “would you like me to draft an essay addressing your question in the context of postmodern literature?”.

While this increases AI model usage, it also increases cognitive offloading and begins to shape how students think and acquire knowledge – which doesn’t necessarily lead to better educational outcomes. AI agents can’t replace people On paper, the arrival of AI agents was a welcome addition to workplaces burdened with repetitive tasks involving multiple systems and data sources.

More capable than chatbots, agents can operate on their own and make decisions to complete well-defined tasks.

It didn’t take long for the rhetoric around AI agents to step up a notch when Twitter’s billionaire co-founder Jack Dorsey (who had already laid off 40% of workforce at his fintech company Block), claimed AI agents can replace line managers and their function of routing information up and down the organisation hierarchy.

We don’t have to look far for a non-event.

When AI startup Every put this theory into practice, it quickly found out AI agent line managers in a team meeting resulted in endless chatter with no decisions or actions that cost millions of tokens.

Leading AI CEOs Sam Altman (OpenAI) and Dario Amodei (Anthropic) were bold and loud in 2025 with their claims of “wipeout of entry-level jobs” and “job apocalypse”. But as their companies plan to go public in the next few weeks, both CEOs have walked back these claims.

And reports from the CEOs of Uber and Microsoft show AI budgets are costing more than the salaries of human experts doing the same work. AI isn’t revolutionising science, either Generative AI has also made its way into science, much to the chagrin of those worried about the quality of what’s being published in scientific journals.

And there are non-events here, too. The GNoME project was claimed an early win for Google DeepMind where AI was used to discover 2.2 million new material structures. Google claimed this result was equivalent to “nearly 800 years’ worth of knowledge”.

A few months later, the study was thoroughly examined by human experts and dismissed as hallucinations that were poorly presented but also very similar to known materials. These AI non-events will keep happening, and it’s important for the public to keep paying attention when they do.

While the capabilities of AI models are still improving at breakneck speed and some are leading to genuine breakthroughs, the loudest voices in the AI industry also have a vested interest to keep up the hype.

For the rest of us, we must continuously brush up on AI literacy, to build awareness of what separates hype from reality.

Only then can we adopt AI responsibly, with a clear view of both the risks and the benefits.

Daswin De Silva 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/2026/05/27/in-a-sea-of-hype-here-are-the-ai-nothingburgers-you-dont-hear-about/

Getty Images The government’s promised overhaul of New Zealand’s public service has made much of the potential of artificial intelligence (AI) to streamline operations and compensate for a radically reduced workforce. This is in keeping with generally utopian visions of generative AI (GenAI) tools unleashing creativity, removing mundane, repetitive work, and “freeing up humans” for more fulfilling tasks.

However, this may be naive. It’s true, GenAI tools can create efficiencies and cost savings for organisations as they become more powerful and their implementation becomes more sophisticated. In this win-win world, organisations and the people who work in them benefit.

But there’s another side to this story as we become more aware of the downsides of GenAI tools – security risks, hallucinations, bias, a “dumbing down” of human input and lack of ethical insight. However, one thing that is not debated is the need for human oversight of GenAI work.

For legal and reputational reasons, organisations require a “human in the loop” who is responsible for reviewing GenAI outcomes, and has the authority to overturn them. Easier said than done. As we discovered earlier this year when we held an industry panel discussion on GenAI for business students, being the human in the loop can be a role with great responsibility and pressure.

Faster with fewer people Humans are expected to check and approve outputs, make decisions in ambiguous situations, provide feedback to improve the performance of GenAI tools, and offer ethical oversight and judgement. The main reason is that GenAI-tools cannot be held accountable for any of their outputs or decisions.

GenAI tools are legally considered to be “property” not “persons” and they cannot hold rights or incur duties, meaning final accountability falls with humans. However, exactly which humans can vary. The organisation implementing the GenAI tool is most frequently considered responsible for any of its behaviours and outputs.

In other cases, especially if the tool can be shown to be faulty, the developers or tool vendors may be responsible. If a problem can be traced to incorrect or biased data, the provider of the data may have some responsibility.

An unexpected negative consequence of GenAI implementation paradoxically arises from its success. Successful GenAI use means executives and managers are expecting to get things done faster with fewer people. Tasks that used to be done in days or weeks are expected to be done in hours.

As a senior manager of a large multinational business told us: Our goal in the next 18 months is to cut the engineering team down to a quarter of its current size and we need to find out how to leverage AI tools to achieve this.

The pressures on human reviewers When the overall volume of outputs is lifted substantially by AI tools, the human in the loop can become a major bottleneck. Within organisations there are now emerging “content creators” who know how to prompt GenAI tools to quickly generate proposals, reports and presentations even in domains where they lack expertise.

These outputs will be sent to the “content reviewers” for “sanity checks”. Those reviewers are domain experts. They are expected to rectify errors, remove nonfactual hallucinated statements, improve quality and provide accountability and final endorsement.

On one hand, a GenAI-powered “creator” can generate a plausible 50-page report in a matter of 15–30 minutes. On the other, the “reviewer” will have to spend hours reading, rectifying and rewriting to make the final report ready for the audience.

This has transposed the workload distribution between “creators” and “reviewers”. At one time a creator would be responsible for around 80% of the total time and effort to produce an advanced draft or prototype, and a reviewer would use the remaining 20% to polish it.

Now the distribution is less than 20% required from the creator, and more than 80% from the reviewer. One of our panellists described this as like “drinking from a firehose”. Sometimes reviewers have to “let it go”, as they cannot cope with the speed and volume of content coming towards them.

But this coping strategy has potentially dire consequences for the organisations they serve. ‘Workslop’ and burnout There is also a personal cost. Subject-matter experts exposed to unrealistic expectations suffer from burnout, low job satisfaction and high turnover in the organisations we spoke with.

They are overloaded while junior colleagues are losing their jobs or aren’t being hired in the first place. If expert reviewers resign, they may be replaced by more junior colleagues, who are more prepared to trust AI-generated content and sign it off rapidly.

This can become a cycle of decreasing quality, and also raises the question of where the next generation of expert reviewers will come from. Generating “workslop” (content that seems professional but is of uncertain quality) is cheap and fast, while genuine accountability is difficult.

Simply having a nominal human in the loop is not enough.

Quality human oversight needs to be designed in, budgeted for, valued and supported by organisational processes and culture.

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/2026/05/27/like-drinking-from-a-firehose-what-its-like-to-be-the-human-in-the-ai-loop/

Since the US–Israel war against Iran began in late February, images of giant billboards in Tehran have been ubiquitous across traditional and social media. These billboards have been placed in some of the busiest and most visible parts of the city, and are constantly being updated to reflect current events.

Iran has long used public spaces as a tool of political communication. Since the 1979 Islamic Revolution – and especially during the Iran–Iraq War – the regime has erected murals and billboards to display revolutionary imagery, war memorials and ideological messages.

Today, these billboards are designed not only for local audiences, but also for global digital circulation.

Depicting powerful imagery, slogans and symbolic representations, they serve a dual function: to reinforce a sense of collective identity, national unity and shared emotion during a time of crisis to serve as a tool of propaganda for the state, at times featuring Hebrew and English alongside Farsi (Persian).

Researchers argue these billboards are part of a broader visual communication strategy on the part of the state. They are intended to be photographed, posted and shared widely on social media as a way of projecting power and resistance to a global audience (even with a months-long internet blackout in place).

So, what do the billboards say, and what’s the deeper symbolism behind the imagery? We’ve chosen five samples from Tehran to analyse. 1. The Epstein missile A billboard in Valiasr Square depicting Iranian missiles with messages on March 17 2026.

Kaveh Kazemi/Getty Images One of the billboards that circulated widely in recent months depicted Iranian missiles covered with handwritten messages and symbolic phrases. Among the most striking inscriptions is the phrase “To the girls of Minab”, written in bold, red Farsi script.

This is a reference to a strike on a girls’ school in the opening days of the war that Iranian officials say killed 175 girls and teachers. Reports indicate US forces were likely responsible. Directly below that, written in English, are the words “Epstein Island victim girls”, a reference to the island owned by convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein where young women were allegedly sexually assaulted.

On another missile is the phrase “the girl with the pink jacket”. This is a deeply emotional reference to a young Iranian girl killed in a terror attack in 2024, who was identified by her pink jacket and heart-shaped earrings.

The intention is to connect these disparate events through a narrative of vulnerable young women affected by violence, exploitation and political power. Rather than presenting missiles only as weapons of destruction, the image reframes them as symbols of grief, revenge, memory and defence.

In this narrative, Iran is portrayed not as seeking war. It is responding to injustice and protecting its people. 2. ‘Masters of war’ A billboard in Enqelab Square, Tehran, threatening Iranian missile attacks on Israel, on October 3 2024.

Fatemeh Bahrami/Anadolu via Getty Images Another billboard that gained significant attention in 2024 depicted the Farsi phrase “If you want war, we are masters of war” above a Hebrew message saying “Israel must be wiped from the face of the earth”.

The billboard portrays the sky over Israel illuminated by waves of incoming missiles, almost resembling a meteor shower or rain of fire. The imagery is highly stylised and cinematic, with the missiles transforming the night sky into a scene of overwhelming force.

By directly addressing Hebrew-speaking viewers, the billboard functions as both a direct warning to Israelis and a symbolic projection of power, designed to have psychological impact. Language becomes a tool of warfare itself. This multilingual strategy reveals an important shift in Tehran’s urban propaganda.

These billboards, which have become more prominent in recent years, are no longer designed solely for Iranian pedestrians and motorists. The regime is aware photographs will circulate instantly across the internet, reaching intended audiences in Israel.

3. Trump’s sutured mouth Another bilingual billboard is targeted to Western – and specifically American – audiences.

It features US President Donald Trump’s mouth with a rendering of the Strait of Hormuz sutured on top, alongside the English phrase “The Breaking Point.” The Farsi text roughly translates to “its patience has run out”.

It also contains a literary pun: the word tang in Farsi can refer both to “narrowness” or “constraint” and to the Strait (tangeh) of Hormuz itself. This creates a double meaning linking the geopolitical tensions in the Strait of Hormuz with the idea of reaching a psychological or political breaking point.

The image also critiques Trump’s constant political rhetoric and media presence. The sutures placed across his mouth symbolise silencing, constraint and the loss of Trump’s authority or influence in relation to Iran and the Strait of Hormuz.

4. Arash the Archer Another billboard draws on the famous Persian myth of Arash the Archer. In the image, Arash places an arrow into his bow in the heat of battle, surrounded by missiles. The reference comes from the ancient story in which Arash sacrifices his life after shooting an arrow during a mythological war between Iran and neighbouring Turan.

The billboard suggests modern Iranian soldiers, like Arash, are willing to sacrifice their lives to defend their homeland. More broadly, the image also reflects how poetry, mythology and heroic storytelling are deeply embedded in Iranian history and culture.

It connects the contemporary conflict to centuries of struggle. 5. The fishermen Another billboard demonstrates Iranian military power through the image of a massive fishing net spread across the Persian Gulf. Inside the net are captured American aircraft, drones and naval vessels.

The imagery is accompanied by the phrase, “The entire Persian Gulf is our hunting ground” in Farsi, connoting it is under direct Iranian control and surveillance. The image also emphasises the strategic importance of the Strait of Hormuz, indicating the power to open or close this vital waterway ultimately lies with Iran.

At the same time, the fishing net operates as a cultural metaphor.

Like fishing itself, Iran’s warfare strategy is based on patience, resilience, careful strategy and long-term determination, rather than sheer force alone.

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/2026/05/27/how-iran-uses-billboards-as-wartime-propaganda-we-selected-5-to-explain-what-they-mean/

TonyFeder/Getty For a quarter century, Australia’s environment laws were widely regarded as not fit for purpose. In 2020, a scathing review by Professor Graeme Samuel found the Environment Protection and Biodiversity (EPBC) Act was ineffective and unfit for future environmental challenges.

On the last Parliamentary sitting day of 2025, Labor passed its long-awaited reforms to Australia’s nature laws following a deal with the Greens. According to Environment Minister Murray Watt, these reforms would deliver tangible benefits for the environment and “protect what is precious”.

Now the dust has settled on getting the legislation passed, conservationists want to know if they will work. The big questions is whether two proposed “environmental standards”, a centrepiece in the new laws, are up to the task.

What are environmental standards? Previously, the EPBC Act required the decision-maker to tick procedural boxes, but this did not necessarily result in an outcome that protected the environment. For example, while the Department of Environment could access information about the impacts of development on the black-throated finch, it merely needs to “have regard” to this.

There was no obligation to reject a project, or impose conditions, even if the projected impacts on the finch would be severe. To address this, Professor Samuel called for new national environmental standards. These universal requirements would guide the outcomes of environmental decision-making across the country.

For example, his suggested standard for threatened species included the outcome that they would be “protected, managed and recovered over time”. Decisions would have to be consistent with these standards with rare exception, only justifiable in the public interest.

Rather than box-ticking, this would require decisions to promote good outcomes for nature. Although Labor committed to environmental standards in 2022, passing the reforms proved challenging. It took three years, an election, a new Environment Minister, and a slew of compromises, to secure the deal.

A small Leadbeater’s possum. Australia’s new environment laws are supposed to protect critically endangered species like this from extinction. Jason Edwards/Getty What is the government proposing? Two draft standards have released, and are open for consultation.

One is for Matters of National Environmental Significance (MNES), a term in the EPBC Act that includes World Heritage areas, migratory species and the Great Barrier Reef National Park. The other is for environmental offsets – actions taken to counterbalance the unavoidable negative impacts of a project on the environment.

At first blush, the draft standards contain the components urged by Professor Samuel, including objectives and outcomes. For example, the MNES Standard has an objective that habitat be protected, conserved, and restored. However, clauses buried in both of the standards render these outcomes and objectives effectively useless.

These clauses state that as long as the minister makes a decision consistent with another part of the standard (called the “principles”), the outcomes and objectives are deemed to be met. These legal technicalities can be confusing.

But the reality is that if the standards are signed off in their current form, we will be back to box-ticking as the key focus of environmental decision-making. These new standards also include a narrow focus on “irreplaceable” habitat.

For species that are recognised as threatened, habitat that is “irreplaceable” and necessary for them to remain “viable in the wild” should be protected. While this framing sounds like what Professor Samuel envisaged, the narrow definition of “irreplaceable” means only the rarest and most fragile habitats will be covered.

This is at odds with the federal government’s previous commitment to “no new extinctions”. Avoiding a species becoming extinct requires habitat to be protected before things get to breaking point. Weak constraints on state power The weak standards are especially concerning given the federal government is steaming ahead with plans to pass approval powers to the states and territories.

The Commonwealth has an important oversight role in environmental regulation and, although rare, it has stepped in on occasion to stop the most destructive projects, like the proposed Toondah Harbour development. Under the reformed laws, the standards are supposed to act as a crucial guardrail on state power.

The minister cannot devolve powers to a state unless satisfied that its environmental approval frameworks are consistent with federal standards. Unless robust environmental standards are developed, this constraint on state power will be fairly weak.

Environment Minister Murray Watt promised the EPBC reforms would deliver tangible benefits for the environment. Unfortunately, the draft standards offer little guarantee.

Justine Bell-James receives funding from the Australian Research Council, the Great Barrier Reef Foundation, and the National Environmental Science Program.

She is a Director of the National Environmental Law Association and a member of the Wentworth Group of Concerned Scientists.

Original source: https://analysis1.mil-osi.com/2026/05/27/australias-old-environment-laws-were-a-box-ticking-exercise-sadly-the-new-ones-could-be-too/

Last year was one of Canada’s strongest tourism years on record. The sector generated nearly $60 billion in revenue between May and August 2025, a six per cent year-over-year increase, according to Destination Canada. Several forces drove that surge, including a continued post-COVID rebound and persistent trade tensions between Canada and the United States that encouraged Canadians to explore the nation’s provinces and territories.

In a recent speech to the Liberal National Convention, Prime Minister Mark Carney pointed to last summer’s numbers as evidence of national momentum. But the fuel crisis and inflation means that the tourism records may not be broken as easily in 2026 as they were in 2025.

FIFA and the summer of 2026 Demand for travel remains strong, with seven in 10 Canadians expecting to travel this year. With the FIFA men’s World Cup arriving in Canada this June, the conditions for another record summer could be in place.

Canada will be co-hosting the FIFA World Cup alongside the U.S. and Mexico. Seven matches will be played at BC Place in Vancouver and six at BMO Field in Toronto. “This is the largest single-sport event on the planet,” Anne Kang, B.C Minister of Tourism, Arts, Culture and Sport, said in a statement.

“More than 350,000 fans are expected to pass through the doors at BC Place.” Major sports events have historically pulled travel spending into surrounding regions. The World Cup is expected to do the same, drawing international visitors who may extend their stays beyond host cities.

Rising costs are squeezing travel There are still factors that could impact travel both internationally and domestically, however. Following the U.S.-Israeli military campaign against Iran that began Feb. 27 and Iran’s subsequent closure of the Strait of Hormuz, jet fuel prices have risen nearly 70 per cent.

Read more: What the jet fuel crisis means for your summer flights and travel plans Even domestic flight fares have increased by 14 per cent, according to Flight Centre Canada. The consolidation and cancellation of flights will also shape Canada’s travel and transportation sectors.

Read more: US is less prone to oil price shocks than in past decades That pressure is compounded by the current cost of living crisis. Thirty-one per cent of Canadians from an Ipsos poll say they plan to travel less due to economic uncertainty.

According to the poll, Canadians aged 55 and older are most likely to say their plans are unaffected by inflation, interest rates and geopolitics. Younger Canadians — the group most eager to travel — are the most likely to be priced out.

A recent TD survey on summer spending indicated that buying Canadian remains a strong sentiment. For example, 79 per cent of respondents plan to support local or Canadian businesses this summer. Of that group, 48 per cent said their desire to support local business is even stronger than it was last year.

Canadians still steering clear of the U.S. Trade tensions between Canada and the U.S. are still redirecting spending. There has been a decline in reservations by Canadians who used to consider travelling to the U.S.

A March 2026 Leger survey found 67 per cent of Canadians cited political tension as a central factor for reduced visits to the U.S., while 64 per cent said they are less likely to travel to Mexico due to security concerns.

New barriers and limitations are adding to the friction. Under U.S. President Donald Trump’s executive order “Protecting the American People Against Invasion,” Canadians staying in the U.S. for 30 days or more are now required to register with American immigration authorities.

The rule primarily affects snowbirds and extended-stay travellers, but it’s deterring some Canadians from crossing the border at all. Plenty to do at home All these shifts are creating an opening for domestic travel, and the federal government is moving to fill it.

Ottawa has brought back the Canada Strong Pass for a second summer. From June 19 to Sept. 7, it offers reduced or free admissions to Parks Canada sites, historic sites, marine conservation areas and galleries and museums around the country.

VIA Rail offers free travel for children aged 17 and under when travelling with an adult, and 25 per cent off fares for young adults aged 18 to 24. Last year’s program saw a 13 per cent increase in visits to Parks Canada sites and an average 15 per cent increase in attendance at national museums.

A surge in running tourism is adding another pull. Destination race events combine a fitness goal with a regional getaway in a trend the travel industry has come to call “runcations.” There is no shortage of destination racing opportunities across Canada.

Like the World Cup, these events push tourism dollars into communities that rarely see major-event traffic, spreading the benefits more broadly across the country. Canada’s tourism and travel industry has shown it can absorb considerable disruption in the face of fuel crises, airline shutdowns and global angst.

The fuel crisis and inflation mean 2026 will be harder than 2025, but the appetite to travel is still strong among Canadians.

Moira A.

McDonald is a board member with the Travel Tourism Research Association of Canada

Ann-Kathrin McLean, Oreoluwa Adeniyi, and Shimaya Sureshbabu 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/2026/05/27/trade-wars-and-soaring-airfares-are-reshaping-how-canadians-travel-this-summer/

LightField Studios/Shutterstock When disappointment strikes, is your instinct to try to shake it off, forget about it and move on? My research and experience of many workplaces suggests this might be exactly the wrong response.

My interest in the science of disappointment began more than 15 years ago as a workplace consultant. I was struck by how often clients described episodes that left them feeling disappointed as deeply personal and unsettling experiences – and by how little research there was to help me respond meaningfully.

That prompted me to do a PhD on the subject. Disappointment often reflects a gap between expectation and reality. It can involve grieving a future we had already begun to live in our minds. My subsequent research with colleagues revealed a telling pattern.

In the workplace, disappointment is frequently generated at a systemic level by unrealistic targets – yet lands on individuals as a sense of personal failure. In many walks of life, it is commonly dismissed as an unwanted and unhelpful emotion.

But our research tells a different story. Disappointment can be an important fuel for creativity. It surfaces what we truly desire, clarifies what matters to us, and points us toward what we are not yet willing to accept.

Whether in our professional or personal lives, disappointment is a signal worth learning to read. Here are some ideas for when you next come up against it. 1. Don’t get ahead of yourself When we are waiting on a significant decision – a job offer, test result or relationship turning point – our emotional response is prepared long before the answer arrives.

The same outcome can feel entirely different depending on what we anticipated would happen. The wider the gap between expectation and reality, the greater the disappointment. In the workplace, severe disappointment in not getting a job or missing out on a promotion can stem from the loss of a working future we had already begun to imagine.

If that future does not materialise, we grieve it – even if it never fully existed. 2. Beware the success trap Success can quietly raise the bar for future failure. One of our respondents illustrated this dynamic neatly.

Exceed your work target by 10% one year, they observed, and your manager is unlikely to reward you with a lighter load the next. Rather, the target is raised again, making falling short more likely – and the disappointment more acute because of your past success.

The same pattern can play out in social situations. Think of a friend who often picks up the bill. Over time, a generous gesture becomes expected behaviour. Then, on the one occasion they don’t pay, this becomes a moment of disappointment that people notice and remember.

That disappointment is not proportionate to what actually happened, but to the gap with what was expected. 3. Try not to blame yourself (or anyone else) People rarely experience disappointment in a neutral way. Rather, they tend to interpret it through one of two familiar patterns.

The first is internal: “I am the problem.” This assumes they did not try hard enough or were simply not good enough. Disappointment is treated as a sign they are a flawed or bad person.

The second interpretation is external. The fault is with others who did not recognise the person’s value and did not live up to expectations. The instinct is to blame and get angry with them.

Our research on disappointment in organisations shows both responses miss the point. Blaming ourselves or others can be a way of avoiding something harder to confront: that expectations are unrealistic or based on inaccurate assumptions.

4. The Ikea effect Environments shape expectations. In workplaces, many people are encouraged to aim high and improve continuously. Organisations often promote ideals of progress, achievement and fulfilment. These ideals can be motivating, but they can also create a perfect scenario that reality struggles to match.

From this perspective, disappointment can be a structural feature of systems that rely on high expectations and idealised outcomes. But there’s a personal aspect too. Research on what psychologists call “the Ikea effect” shows the more effort we invest in something, the more we value it – rather like a flatpack piece of furniture that we have built ourselves.

At work, we routinely pour time, energy and identity into projects, roles and relationships. So, when things don’t go as hoped, we are losing something very personal. And because failure at work is often witnessed by colleagues and managers, the stakes feel higher.

The loss can become entangled with how others see us, and how we see ourselves.

Left unexamined, such feelings can calcify into something more damaging than the original disappointment: a diminished appetite for risk, a reluctance to invest fully in what comes next, and a growing suspicion that doing so is simply not worth it.

5. Be realistic, not idealistic Moving from trying to eliminate disappointment to tolerating it can make it less destabilising and more informative. As a manager, this might mean developing the habit of noting, at the outset of a project, what a realistic rather than an ideal result would look like.

Similar patterns can appear in relationships too, where expecting things to feel perfect all the time can make an otherwise good relationship seem lacking.

Research consistently shows that naming difficult emotions reduces their intensity, and that workplaces where disappointment can be discussed honestly tend to be psychologically safer, more creative and better at learning from setbacks than those where such feelings are expected to be quietly moved past.

6. Accept disappointment, don’t dismiss it Disappointment is uncomfortable because it confronts us with limits: to what we can control, to what organisations can deliver, or to what relationships can provide. An understandable instinct is to try to move past this quickly.

But a more constructive approach is to reflect on where our expectations come from, how they are formed, and whether they can be moderated in ways that benefit us.

If disappointment is a signal that our expectations and reality are out of alignment, then understanding this may be one of the most important forms of resilience we can develop.

Annette Clancy 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/2026/05/27/how-to-deal-with-disappointment-by-an-expert-in-this-misunderstood-emotion/

Miles Davis There are many things about Miles Davis to remember as we mark 100 years since his birth. There’s the 1950s and 60s elegance and lyricism, with his Harmon muted trumpet, the tone of which was once said to sound like “a man walking on eggshells”.

There’s his badass attitude taking no bull from anyone, with a particular invective for the racism of America. Most of all there is his fearless innovation, always reaching for sounds unheard.

As the late (much lamented) writer and musician Greg Tate wrote: “Miles Davis was a musician you could set your atomic clock to: check in every five years or so and you’d find him a parsec ahead of everyone else.” But this was a hazardous approach that had a price.

In 1969, Davis admitted to jazz journalist Hollie West: “I have to change, it’s like a curse.” Part of that price was the risk of failure, at least by his own exacting standards. And so, we turn to Kind of Blue (1959).

It’s the highest selling jazz record of all time, (multiple times platinum); only it wasn’t quite what he was after. In 1959, a spellbound Davis saw Les Ballet Africaines (the national dance company of Guinea founded in the early 1950s) and found his next direction.

In his 1989 autobiography, Miles, he wrote: I knew I couldn’t do it from just watching them dance because I’m not African, but I loved what they were doing. I didn’t want to copy that, but I got a concept from it.

It was the sound of the “finger piano” (mbira or kalimba), in particular, that inspired him.

He set about combining that impression with a love (shared with his new pianist Bill Evans) of composer Maurice Ravel’s Concerto for the Left Hand and Orchestra (1930), and half remembered sounds from his childhood “back in Arkansas, when we were walking home from church and they were playing these bad gospels”.

Kind of Blue by Miles Davis. To chase the sound he was after, Davis employed the emerging “modal” approach.

This meant essentially basing his new music on diatonic scales (think the basic seven notes do-re-me … but with the option to make any of them the “home” note) instead of the frenetic chord progressions of bebop.

Despite being an important player in bebop, in his autobiography Davis recognised that the music of “Diz and Bird … wasn’t sweet” and “didn’t have harmonic lines that you could easily hum”. This fusion of apparently disparate elements produced something of a paradox: a completely uncompromising jazz record (all the recordings were first takes), which has proved to be effortlessly accessible.

But despite Kind of Blue’s winning lyricism, Davis, in his autobiography, is mildly self-reproachful: When I tell people that I missed what I was trying to do on Kind of Blue, that I missed getting the exact sound of the African finger piano up in that sound, they just look at me like I’m crazy.

Everyone said that record was a masterpiece – and I loved it too – and so they just feel I’m trying to put them on. But that’s what I was trying to do on most of that album, particularly on All Blues and So What.

I just missed.

Of course, being Davis, he largely abandoned that approach, so that by 1964 he had a completely new group of young musicians and was reaching for the outer spheres of what was possible with acoustic jazz.

This was a trajectory that by 1969, saw him “going electric” with the uncompromising Bitches Brew (1969), also a stunningly successful album. But that is another story. This article features references to books that have been included for editorial reasons, and may contain links to bookshop.org.

If you click on one of the links and go on to buy something, The Conversation UK may earn a commission.

Richard Worth 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/2026/05/27/miles-daviss-kind-of-blue-is-the-highest-selling-jazz-record-of-all-time-he-thought-it-was-a-failure/

Tsuguliev/Shutterstock School trips are often remembered as a highlight of childhood education. Whether it’s exploring a castle, visiting a museum or spending the day at a farm or zoo, these experiences offer something the classroom often cannot: learning that is immersive, memorable and often exciting.

For autistic children, school trips can be both highly valuable and, at times, unintentionally inaccessible. One of the most significant challenges is sensory overload. Busy, noisy and unpredictable environments can lead to anxiety or distress for children, particularly when their routines are disrupted.

Alongside this are other barriers. Teachers may feel underprepared to support autistic pupils in a new environment. Logistical pressures such as staffing ratios, risk assessments and time constraints may limit what schools feel able to offer.

My previous research, drawing on the perspectives of primary school teachers, found that they have concerns that behaviour, safety and support needs can create barriers to participation for pupils with special educational needs on school trips.

This implies that some children may not always be able to access these opportunities fully. But school trips can offer opportunities for children with special educational needs and disabilities to engage with learning – including through sensory and non-verbal means that are not always recognised within conventional classroom participation.

Hands-on education My PhD research is exploring the benefits that school trips can bring for autistic children. Previous research has found that hands-on, visual and experiential learning – teaching methods that go beyond abstract, classroom-based instruction – may help autistic children to thrive in education.

As a form of learning outside the classroom, school trips allow all children to interact directly with places, objects and environments rather than relying on textbooks. Research has consistently shown that these experiences can improve engagement, motivation and understanding.

This is particularly the case when learning is made tangible and meaningful. School trips provide a different kind of learning. MIA Studio/Shutterstock School trips also support more than just academic learning. Outdoor learning and learning through experience has been linked to increased confidence, independence and resilience.

It also creates opportunities for social interaction in more naturalistic, less structured environments. For autistic children, this may feel less pressured than the classroom. It can support the development of life skills such as navigating new spaces, managing change and building relationships.

These experiences can contribute to a stronger sense of belonging and personal development. Yet despite these benefits, not all autistic children are able to access or fully participate in school trips. Inclusion is not only shaped by practical barriers but also by assumptions about what autistic children can or cannot do.

Ultimately, creating inclusive school trips requires a shift in how participation is understood. In many classroom settings, participation is often judged by how much children talk, answer questions, put their hand up or join in group activities.

Verbal responses, group interaction and visible engagement are often seen as signs of learning. Personal ways of learning However, research suggests that learning in environments such as museums and heritage sites is often personal and not always immediately obvious.

Children may be observing, reflecting or processing what they see, rather than speaking or actively joining in. This means that school trips can have a meaningful and lasting impact, even if a child’s learning is not immediately visible to adults.

My ongoing doctoral research has found that for autistic children in particular, learning may take place through observing, touching, or simply being present within a space. These forms of engagement are often overlooked or undervalued, meaning participation can be mistaken for absence.

Recognising these alternative forms of engagement challenges narrow definitions of learning. It highlights the need for more inclusive ways of understanding educational participation. The question, then, is not whether autistic children can cope with school trips, but how these experiences can be designed to support them.

Inclusive school trips are entirely achievable, and often benefit all learners. Small adjustments can make a significant difference. Providing visual schedules or social stories, such as picture-based timelines or simple personalised stories that explain what will happen and what to expect, can help children prepare for new experiences.

Pre-visits, where children are given the opportunity to visit the site in advance of the trip, or showing photographs or videos of the location and activities they can expect during the trip can reduce children’s anxiety by increasing their familiarity.

During trips, access to quiet spaces, flexible structures and sensory breaks can support emotional regulation. Clear communication and predictable routines can help create a sense of stability. Collaboration is also key. Working closely with parents, carers and support staff ensures that children’s individual needs are understood and supported.

With the right adjustments, school trips can provide rich, meaningful and enjoyable learning experiences for autistic children.

Ensuring this happens is not only good practice, but a matter of educational equity.

Jessica Wythe 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/2026/05/27/school-trips-arent-always-accessible-for-autistic-children-but-they-can-bring-huge-benefits/

The people of the Falkland Islands are deep in “commemoration season”, preparing for Liberation Day on June 14. This date has been celebrated on the South Atlantic archipelago as its national day since 1982, when Britain defeated Argentina in a 74-day conflict that claimed more than 900 lives, and reclaimed control over the territory.

Despite its failed invasion, Argentina has never given up its claim that what it refers to as Las Islas Malvinas, which are located approximately 500 km off its east coast, are integral to its sovereign territory.

The UK counters that descendants of British settlers, present since the 1830s, possess the right to self-determination which they express through their continued association with the UK as a British Overseas Territory. There are then competing interpretations of territorial integrity and self-determination.

These are two of the most important principles of postwar international law. With each argument premised on an “all-or-nothing” logic of absolute rights, historical events and their legal significance have been continuously and cyclically rehashed over nearly two centuries.

But the issue of who controls the islands has been made more significant by the looming possibility of a major oil extraction. The Sea Lion field, about 220 km north of the Falklands, has a potential yield of up to 55,000 barrels a day with a further 125,000 a day in phase two.

Its owner plans to commence drilling as early as 2027.

The Argentinian president, Javier Milei, whose programme of heavy government spending cuts is producing widespread hardship in Argentina, has recently ramped up his aggressive rhetoric about the future of the islands, posting a message to X: “THE MALVINAS WERE, ARE, AND ALWAYS WILL BE ARGENTINE”.

He said in a separate interview that his government was doing “everything humanly possible” to return the Falklands to Argentina. There’s no sense that rival claims would be any clearer or easier to resolve now than they were in 1982.

Argentina will never relinquish its claim that the island archipelago is an inalienable part of its territory. And the UK has no reason to abandon its reasoning that the key issue is what the islanders want – and what they want is to be British.

Moreover, any UK government proposing to hand over the Falklands would face an unimaginable backlash. Equitable and good But in thinking beyond the binary “territorial integrity versus self-determination” as it defines the Falklands/Malvinas controversy, our research proposes something that international law already provides for but rarely uses.

Under the ICJ Statute, it requires the consent of both parties – a significant hurdle in any sovereignty dispute. There is a legal basis for this. In legal terms, it is known as ex aequo et bono (according to what is equitable and good).

But the principle behind it is straightforward.

Instead of asking: “Who has the stronger legal claim to the land?”, it asks: “What arrangement would actually be fair for everyone involved, even setting aside strict legal entitlements?” What’s really at stake with the Falklands/Malvinas is not just the land.

It’s the sea. The emergence of large-scale offshore extraction raises opportunties and questions that the permanent diplomatic stalemate may no longer be able to manage effectively. And yet international law, built around the idea of who owns which piece of land, has no adequate framework for dealing with them.

Under the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea (Unclos) maritime entitlements flow from land sovereignty: it is the coastal state that claims the exclusive economic zone. This means the law channels every question about resources back into the unresolvable argument over who owns the islands themselves, rather than allowing the resources to be divided on their own merits.

Moving beyond deadlock One approach which might break the deadlock is an equitable arrangement for sharing maritime boundaries and resources. This could be similar to what Australia and East Timor achieved in 2018. Rather than continuing to fight over competing claims to the Timor Sea, they agreed through conciliation to a permanent maritime boundary and an equitable sharing of oil and gas revenue.

More ambitious proposals — including forms of shared or delegated sovereignty — have periodically surfaced in academic and diplomatic discussions, but remain politically implausible at present. But we argue to go beyond simply redrawing lines on a map.

A genuinely fair settlement needs to consider what large-scale offshore oil extraction would actually mean for the South Atlantic, both in terms of opportunity and risk. The track record of major oil operations in fragile environments around the world is not encouraging.

The islands lack the infrastructure and workforce to support industrial extraction – and an offshore disaster would devastate not just the Falklands but Argentina’s coastline too. Here is where an unlikely common interest emerges. The islanders have built their identity around environmental stewardship and a distinctively traditional way of life.

Argentina frames the UK presence as neocolonial resource extraction. Both, from very different starting points, have reason to fear what unchecked oil exploitation could bring. A settlement and common understanding grounded in fairness could protect the environment, provide for more equitable sharing of resources, and safeguard the islanders’ way of life — none of which the current stalemate achieves.

The recently leaked Pentagon memo makes the point for us. The suggestion that Washington could withdraw its backing for British sovereignty as a diplomatic bargaining chip reveals how dependent the current arrangement remains on wider geopolitical alignments.

Sovereignty over the Falklands may remain politically non-negotiable for the foreseeable future. But oil, environmental risk and strategic competition increasingly expose the limits of a legal framework built on absolute territorial claims.

The question international law must confront is whether frozen sovereignty disputes can sustainably govern shared maritime spaces in an era of resource competition and geopolitical instability.

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/2026/05/27/territorial-integrity-and-self-determination-still-dominate-the-falklands-discussion-but-oil-may-change-that/

OlegD/Shutterstock International tourism sells the promise of a borderless world: open skies, new horizons, the freedom to explore. But for the holder of a weak passport, that promise rings hollow. The Henley Passport Index (HPI) ranks the world’s passports by the number of destinations their holders can visit visa-free.

This may be affected by factors like a country’s economic and political stability, colonial history and association with risks or terrorism. Singaporean passport holders currently top the list, enjoying visa-free access to 192 destinations worldwide.

Afghan nationals, at the other end – only 23. In a recent study, my co-author Samira Zare and I explored the challenges that tourists with low-ranking passports face at airport borders. Travelling with a weak passport is costly and time-consuming.

Before a holiday even begins, tourists with a weak passport navigate visa applications months in advance. They may attend interviews, provide extensive documentation and still be rejected. Crossing a border is one of the most charged moments in any trip.

Our research reveals that tourists regularly encounter both subtle and overt challenges at border control, which they perceive to be influenced by assumptions about their passport, nationality, race, gender and class. These experiences leave real emotional marks.

We found that tourists, particularly those with weak passports, often adopt certain qualities – softening their tone, smiling more than feels natural and overexplaining their itinerary – to project what we call “performed innocence or docility”. In other words, taking steps to demonstrate that they are bona fide tourists.

Participants described being asked “patronising” or “condescending” questions by border control agents, or asked more questions than their travel companions with different passports.

Others described how they “have developed coping strategies which include using my title, making sure I speak quite articulately to the person”, and “[playing] up your intelligence and big words, the higher chances they’ll treat you better”.

Another explained that “there is safety in subservience. Why pick a fight during my holiday? I don’t have enough resources to take on such an elaborate infrastructure of ‘passport apartheid’.” Several said they have become “desensitised to” the extensive border scrutiny.

In particular, tourists of certain nationalities, ethnic minorities and women travelling alone reported being subjected to extended questioning, secondary screening and what they described as a baseline suspicion. The emotional impact was profound. Participants reported embarrassment, shame, anxiety, self-doubt, blame and anger that lingered after the border crossing, sometimes tainting the entire trip.

One described his feeling of powerlessness: There’s no dignity because you’re in front of everyone who are thinking … [that] I’ve done something illegal, dodgy … You lose your agency in that moment because you are completely at their mercy.

Tourism research has long focused on the positive restoration that travel offers – relaxation, adventure and escape.

Our study suggests that for some tourists, the journey to their holiday begins with dread: “Even with the right paperwork and visas, there is always a lingering fear that you may not be allowed into the country.” Tightening borders, shrinking mobility Globally, borders are becoming more complex, more digitised and, for many tourists, more restrictive.

The introduction of the EU’s entry-exit system, which requires biometric border checks for non-EU visitors, suggests that borders will increasingly operate through automated surveillance, pre-arrival data checks and algorithmic risk profiling, rather than human discretion.

Decisions about who can cross are now embedded in visa application portals, electronic travel authorisations and advance passenger data systems. Digitalisation may streamline borders, but it comes with risks. When discrimination is embedded in an algorithm rather than human decision, it becomes far more difficult to see, challenge or overturn.

The burden of proof for travellers is increasing. From February 2026, the UK’s new Electronic Travel Authorisation system came into full effect, with unexpected implications for British dual nationals. British citizens who hold another nationality are now required to present a valid British passport.

A British citizen with an expired UK passport could be denied boarding. Changing border requirements are affecting many tourists. 1000 Words/Shutterstock Increasing document requirements already affect tourists with weak passports. As one participant said: “You must carry [a lot] of documents.

I still have a habit of carrying unnecessary documents … just everything to prove that I am who I say I am, and I can travel.” Yet what counts as sufficient proof is not necessarily a settled issue.

Passport strength and travel access is relative and constantly shifting, shaped by geopolitics, diplomacy and political will. The goalposts for who must prove themselves, and how, are always moving. International tourism generates trillions of dollars annually and depends on the flow of people across borders.

Yet there is a lack of recognition of the structural inequality that shapes who can participate in that flow, and the emotional toll on those who navigate it at a disadvantage. Research shows visa restrictions alone deter tourism inflows by around 20%.

An industry that measures success in arrivals and revenue appears to have little incentive to care about who gets left behind at the border. But this isn’t entirely true. When a tourist arrives after hours of questioning, suspicion, and unwelcoming treatment, that experience also becomes part of how they perceive the destination.

It shapes whether they return, what they tell others and how they see themselves as travellers.

Isabella Qing Ye 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/2026/05/27/what-its-like-to-travel-with-a-weak-passport-theres-no-dignity/

“Should taxpayers fund poetry or potholes?” Since my appointment as Calgary’s poet laureate, I have heard versions of this question more than once. Invoking taxpayer outrage is a familiar way of questioning public support for the arts.

When cities face pressure over roads, housing, transit, taxes and public services, culture is often framed as an optional extra: something nice to have after the “real work” of city-building is done. That framing is tempting because it sounds practical.

But it rests on a false divide. Cities need roads, pipes, transit systems and emergency services. They also need memory, language, celebration and care. They need ways to hold grief and to help strangers live together.

Poet laureates occupy a curious position in civic life. They are sometimes treated as ceremonial figures: invited to read at official events, compose occasional poems or represent a city’s cultural aspirations. But across Canada and elsewhere, the role has increasingly expanded beyond literary symbolism.

Poet laureates now work in libraries, schools, transit systems, community centres, festivals and are concerned with public conversations about history, identity, reconciliation, climate grief and belonging.

Poetry belongs where people gather In Vancouver, former poet laureate Fiona Tinwei Lam developed the City Poems Project starting in 2022 that encouraged public engagement with poetry connected to historical, cultural and ecological sites throughout the city.

In Victoria, the poet laureate program combines civic readings with community poetry initiatives and mentorship of the city’s youth poet laureate. Edmonton’s Arts Council describes the role as helping residents reflect on “everyday life and grand moments alike.” ‘Still in Edmonton,’ poem by Edmonton’s poet laureate, Medgine Mathurin.

What links these examples is not a single model of civic poetry, but a shared assumption: poetry belongs where people gather. It can enter a library, a classroom, a transit station, a public square or a commemoration.

Its civic value lies not in replacing practical services, but in helping residents notice the human meanings those services are meant to sustain. Fostering forms of attention Infrastructure alone does not create civic life. A functioning city also depends on forms of attention that are harder to quantify: the ability to listen, remember and imagine oneself connected to people we may never meet.

Calgary’s poet laureate history offers similar examples. Kris Demeanor’s term helped establish the role through The Calgary Project, a collection of poetry by Calgary writers. Natalie Meisner’s 2020–22 term, which unfolded during the COVID-19 pandemic, included This Might Help, an audio poetry project offering 35 poems for listeners seeking connection, comfort and reflection.

Sheri-D Wilson’s YYC POP: Portraits of People invited Calgarians to write word portraits of one another. These projects suggest that a poet laureate’s work is not simply to speak for a city, but to help a city listen to itself.

Advocacy for poetry, language, arts Toronto offers another useful model. Its poet laureate program defines the role as advocacy for “poetry, language and the arts,” but its history shows how varied that advocacy can be.

Lillian Allen’s appointment in 2023 has brought spoken word, dub poetry, youth work and community-building into the centre of civic poetry. Al Moritz delivered original poems on the anniversaries of the North York van attack and the 2018 Danforth Avenue shooting in Toronto.

Anne Michaels’ legacy project translated the phrase “We teach each other how to live” into 140 languages. In these examples, poetry enters civic life not as luxury, but as a language for public memory, multilingual belonging and shared grief.

Public-facing role Literary critics have long understood poetry as more than private expression or ceremonial ornament. Literary scholar Erin Wunker, for example, situates Canadian poetry within the cultural, political and historical contexts in which it is written and read.

Canadian literary criticism has a name for examining how poetry addresses who and what count as “the public” in the first place when we imagine civic life in Canada: public poetics. The public life of poetry has changed beyond Canada as well.

In the United States, the poet laureateship has moved from a largely advisory position at the Library of Congress toward a more public-facing role. Poets have done this in varied ways. Billy Collins’s Poetry 180 brought poems into classrooms; Robert Pinsky’s Favourite Poem Project gathered recordings of Americans reading poems they loved.

More recently, Ada Limón’s laureateship has been described as attentive to what it means to have “America in the room.” Read more: Ada Limón is a poet laureate for the 21st century, exploring ‘what it looks like to have America in the room’ In Britain, Özlem Aydın Öztürk argues that Carol Ann Duffy’s tenure as Britain’s poet laureate showed how the role could address political and social concerns rather than simply produce poems for official occasions.

Together, these projects show that poetry can circulate among people who may not think of themselves as literary readers. The city is not one story Addressing different ways of paying attention to civic concerns matters for Calgary because the city is not one story.

It is a place of Indigenous presence and treaty relationship, migration and settlement, oil and water, Prairie weather, neighbourhood memory, faith communities, artistic communities, newcomers, griefs and celebrations. A poet laureate cannot represent all of this.

But the role can also create moments where language helps residents recognize what they share, and what they still struggle to hear from one another. As Calgary’s poet laureate, I am interested in poetry as a form of civic listening.

This understanding is informed by broader traditions of thinking about how literary imagination and the stories we share matter to public discourse because they help readers attend to lives beyond their own. That listening can happen in a library, a classroom, a parish hall, a community centre, a park or a public reading.

It can happen through page poetry, spoken word, song, translation, youth writing or a brief poem encountered unexpectedly in a public place. How strangers learn to live together At a public event, a poem changes the air.

Sometimes the shift is barely visible: a pause before applause, a room growing quieter, a few people hearing their own experience returned in language. That is not policy. It is not road repair. But it is one way a public becomes aware of itself.

A city is not only a system of services. It is also a shared story about who belongs, who is heard and how strangers learn to live together. The better question, then, is not poetry or potholes.

It is this: What kind of city are we trying to build when both matter?

Clara A.B. Joseph 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/2026/05/27/as-calgarys-poet-laureate-im-interested-in-poetry-as-a-form-of-civic-listening/

fokke baarssen/Shutterstock The UK has already seen unusually hot weather this year, with temperatures high enough to make sun safety a live issue well before many people have packed for their summer holidays. For many of us, the instinctive response to good weather is to get outside while it lasts.

But sudden bursts of hot, bright weather are also a reminder that sun protection needs to start before we are already on the beach. UV exposure is not only a problem on foreign holidays or during peak summer.

In the UK, UV levels can reach 3 or above from as early as April – this is the point at which many public health bodies advise taking sun protection seriously, especially for people who burn easily.

Abroad, particularly in southern Europe or long-haul destinations, levels commonly reach 8, 9 or 10 in summer. That is a significant jump from what most people living in the UK are used to at home, and one reason holidays are often when their skin is most at risk.

My research with holidaymakers suggests that people want to manage sun exposure better – especially when they are given clear, location-specific information about UV levels, plus practical reminders about when to protect themselves. Staying safe in the sun works best as a combination of habits: seeking shade, wearing a hat, covering up, limiting time in strong midday sun, and using sunscreen properly.

Not just sunscreen One of the most effective things you can do is seek shade during the middle of the day, when UV levels are at their highest – typically 11am-3pm in the UK and during similar peak hours abroad.

A wide-brimmed hat, a long-sleeved layer for the hottest part of the day, and sunglasses that offer UV protection all add meaningful protection that sunscreen alone cannot provide. Planning ahead makes this much easier. Before you head out, check the UV index for your destination.

Most weather apps now include this. Then plan the highest-exposure parts of your day around it. Read more: What is the UV index?

An expert explains what it means and how it’s calculated Think of sun protection as part of your morning routine: apply sunscreen before leaving the house, just as you would brush your teeth, and pack a hat, sunglasses and sunscreen in your day bag.

It is also worth taking a light cover-up such as a T-shirt, kaftan or sarong to protect your shoulders and chest. When you stop for lunch, that is your natural cue to reapply sunscreen. Many people on holiday take a midday break anyway.

A shaded lunch, and even a short siesta during peak UV hours, is not just a pleasant holiday habit. It is good sun safety. By the time you head back out later in the afternoon, you’ll have rested, cooled down and reapplied sunscreen, and you are making better use of the lower-UV part of the day.

Simple “if-then” plans can help too. If the UV index is forecast to be 3 or above, then I will cover up and seek shade. If I am heading to the beach, then I will reapply sunscreen as soon as I arrive and again after swimming.

One thing our research consistently shows is that most people underestimate how quickly their skin can burn, particularly in strong sun. Rather than trying to calculate a safe window, treat the UV index as your guide.

If it is 3 or above, cover up and seek shade during the strongest part of the day. Sunscreen works best when applied generously and reapplied regularly, but guidance on how much to use can feel vague.

Our research suggests a helpful rule of thumb: for your face, neck and ears, aim for around a teaspoon’s worth. For a full body application, you need considerably more than most people use, roughly the equivalent of a golf ball.

Applying more than you think you need, and reapplying every two hours when you are outdoors, makes a real difference to the protection your skin gets. You should also reapply after swimming, sweating or towelling off, even if the product is labelled water resistant.

Apps are useful – if they change what you do Studies of sun protection apps suggest these digital tools can help when they give people specific, usable information rather than vague warnings. In my research into holidaymakers’ views of these apps, participants valued UV index information and location-based reminders because these helped them to plan their day, rather than simply reacting once already in strong sun.

Personalised guidance can make sun protection feel less like guesswork by taking account of your skin type, where you are and how strong the UV is at that moment. If you use a sun protection app, look for one that provides real-time, location-specific UV forecasting and concrete, practical advice, rather than general reminders.

Even a basic UV index tracker can help you decide when to cover up, when to seek shade and when UV levels are lower. The SunSmart Global UV app (supported by the World Health Organization, the World Meteorological Organization, the UN Environment Programme and the International Labour Organization) shows what this can look like.

It gives users location-specific UV information and indicates when sun protection is needed. That is the kind of practical guidance holidaymakers in my research said they wanted: advice that helps them make decisions in the moment, not just general messages about staying safe in the sun.

Enjoy the good weather Sun protection does not mean staying indoors. It means making the sun easier to enjoy: checking the UV index, packing a hat and sunscreen, seeking shade when UV is strongest, and reapplying before your skin reminds you.

Skin cancer is largely preventable, and small habits add up. The aim is to make sun protection part of the day – not an afterthought once you are already hot, tired and turning pink.

Angela Rodrigues receives funding from Melanoma Focus.

Original source: https://analysis1.mil-osi.com/2026/05/27/sun-safety-this-summer-from-uv-apps-to-sun-protection-tips-that-actually-work/