Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By John Arnold, Senior Lecturer, Sport & Exercise Biomechanics, University of South Australia

The game of cricket is believed to have originated in rural England sometime in the 16th or 17th century.

The earliest versions of cricket balls had no standard size, weight or stitching: they were handmade by locals and consisted of a round leather case filled with materials such as cork or wool.

As there were no set requirements or construction methods, each ball was different, and this affected how it bounced, moved and rebounded off the bat.

However, cricket spiked in popularity in the first half of the 18th century, which prompted consistency in the rules and equipment to ensure fairness and facilitate further growth of the game.

The modern cricket ball

Modern balls consist of four main components: a cork and twine (string) core, a leather casing, a raised middle section (the seam) with stitching on either side and a wax or lacquer coating.

Balls are either red (for long formats such as international Test matches), white (for shorter formats such as One Day Internationals or Twenty20 games) or pink (for day-night Tests and first-class games).

Read more:
Like night and day: why Test cricket changes so much under lights

The laws of cricket state that when new, the ball should weigh between 5.5 and 5.75 ounces (155.9–163 grams) and have a circumference of 22.4–22.9 centimetres.

For women’s cricket, the ball can weight slightly less (140–151g) and for junior cricket (under 13) even less again (133–144g).

A set of technical standards was formalised in 1994 which stipulate the mechanical requirements for factors such as hardness, to help different manufacturers produce balls with more consistency and ensure fairness across the globe.

So why are balls so hard?

Cricket balls are the product of centuries of tradition and the extreme physical demands of the game. They must be robust and hard-wearing, able to withstand repeated high-force impacts from both the bat and the pitch over the course of a match.

Consider the forces involved when a ball is struck by a bat.

Reasonable estimates of peak forces when the ball is struck by the bat are about 17 kilonewtons (the weight of 1,700 kilograms) – enough to lift a 1.7 tonne car off the ground.

The ball also repeatedly impacts the pitch at high speeds, experiencing shear forces that gradually wear its surface. On deteriorating pitches, this wear is even more pronounced.

In Test cricket, a single ball can be bowled up to 480 times (80 overs) before the fielding team is allowed to request a replacement.

While cricket ball construction has evolved over the past 300 years, its main elements have remained largely consistent.

The introduction of the seam – the raised stitching that runs around the ball’s circumference – and the practice of shining one side of the ball to create swing are fundamental aspects of match play.

These features allow bowlers to generate movement in the air – challenging batters and shaping the strategy of the game.

Read more:
How cricket balls move: the science behind swing, seam and spin

The materials, construction and physical characteristics of the ball – including size, mass and density – determine its mechanical properties and influence how it bounces, spins and interacts with different surfaces and equipment.

These properties are central to cricket’s nature and style – changing them would fundamentally alter the way the game is played.

Tradition and the physical requirements of the game have ensured this construction is tried, tested and fit for purpose, creating the ball we know today.

Is the ball dangerous?

Bowlers vary their deliveries to deceive the batter and gain a tactical advantage. This can include changing the speed or where they aim the ball.

A specific strategy fast bowlers may use is to aim to bounce the ball directly at a batter’s upper body or head (referred to as a “bouncer)”.

This can be used to intimidate the batter and/or force them to make a mistake.

Perhaps the most infamous example of this was the 1932–33 Ashes series, in which the English cricket team controversially used a consistent “bodyline” delivery approach to contain Australian batting legend Don Bradman.

Various rule changes since the 1990s have limited the number of bouncers that bowlers can deliver, making the game safer.

At the elite level, cricket balls are commonly bowled at speeds of 130–150 kilometres per hour.

Occasionally, fast bowlers can exceed 160km/h. At amateur and recreational levels, bowlers commonly still reach 100km/h.

When a person is struck – whether it be a batter, fielder or umpire – the ball hardly rebounds and the momentum is absorbed by the body.

The force is also concentrated in a small area, making serious or even fatal injury possible – particularly if contact is made directly to the head.

The exact force depends on the timing, location and angle of impact. But there’s no doubt the combination of a small, dense ball moving at high speed and stopping almost instantly makes cricket-ball injuries potentially deadly.

There have been fatal incidents, albeit rare. The most high-profile such incident was the death of Phillip Hughes in 2014, who was hit on the neck in a Sheffield Shield match and died two days later from a vertebral artery injury.

Read more:
Yes, cricket is a contact sport. We have safety gear – but we need to do more

The number of deaths has declined significantly in the past 30 years, most likely due to widespread use of enhanced safety equipment, especially helmets, by batters and close-in fielders.

So while a layperson may view cricket as a non-contact sport, the truth is batting and fielding require great courage, considering the hardness of the ball and the speeds it can reach.

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.

– ref. Why do cricket balls have to be so hard? – https://theconversation.com/why-do-cricket-balls-have-to-be-so-hard-269900

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Robert Hortle, Deputy Director, Tasmanian Policy Exchange, University of Tasmania

Australia has a fine tradition of unconventional politicians at all levels of government. Multiple examples probably spring to mind immediately.

But in researching this piece, I went down a wacky rabbit hole. It turns out there are lesser-known characters in the annals of history that deserve some time in the spotlight.

From particularly well-dressed pioneers to founders of micronations, here are some of Australia’s most eccentric politicians.

But who counts as ‘eccentric’?

What do we really mean by “eccentric”? According to the Cambridge Dictionary, the term describes someone who is “strange or unusual, sometimes in a humorous way”.

For our purposes here, a deep commitment to long-term oddity is vital – a one-off bizarro act isn’t enough.

You’ll notice there are very few women politicians described as eccentric. This is partly because historically the vast majority of state and federal MPs have been men, and partly because we (the public) are more accepting of eccentric men in political office, while women are held to a different standard.

It’s also a very fine line between being eccentric and being problematic or offensive. Many MPs have fallen foul of that line and so won’t be included here.

With all that in mind, I looked beyond the usual cast of onion-eaters, hat-wearers, Jurassic Park fans, and dog-threateners to find some of our lesser-known rum’uns.

Alfred Deakin

Many will know Deakin as one of the architects of Australian federation, the country’s second prime minister, and a strong advocate of racist policies.

What’s less well-known is that over a period of 13 years – including while he was prime minister – Deakin regularly published articles and letters anonymously in various newspapers.

Often written under the byline “From our special correspondent”, Deakin’s missives have been described as “vivid in style, intelligent in comment, relatively free from bias and mildly critical of himself on occasions”.

Deakin was also deeply interested in Muscular Christianity and spiritualism – he attended seances as a young man – and wrote poetry and plays throughout his life.

John the Duke of Avram

Born as John Charlton Rudge, “His Grace, the most Noble Duke of Avram” was a Liberal MP in Tasmanian parliament between 1989 and 1992 and later a deputy mayor in the state’s south.

In the early 1980s, the Duke had founded the Grand Duchy of Avram, a micronation with its own Royal Bank, to bring his PhD thesis on central banks to life.

The Duchy never claimed any physical territory – and the Duke later said the micronation doesn’t exist – but the bank briefly opened a branch in Tasmania that issued coins and notes.

The federal government took the bank to court several times, but lost.

Kezia Purick

Purick was a Northern Territory MP from 2008 to 2024, first as part of the Country Liberal Party and later as an independent.

Down the years she made headlines for spending taxpayers’ money on booze, the corrupt use of public resources to stymie the creation of a new political party, resuscitating a chicken and catching a python.

Purick reserved some of her particularly colourful language for the late former federal minister Kevin Andrews. When he made headlines after saying that de facto couples should get married to protect their relationships and children, she called him a “pooncy, pasty-faced person” and implied she’d take to him with a device used for castrating young bulls if he turned up in her electorate.

Don Dunstan

Known for his progressive politics, dapper style and bisexuality, Dunstan was a revolutionary figure in South Australian politics. As premier in the late 1960s and 70s, he led a government that reformed Aboriginal land rights, decriminalised male homosexuality and put in place environmental protections.

And he did all this while turning out immaculately in safari suits, floral shirts, and – on a day that has gone down in Australian political folklore – tiny, bright pink shorts.

While he was premier, Dunstan also took up surfing and wrote a cookbook. After retiring from politics he hosted a TV show, opened a restaurant, campaigned for democracy in Fiji and much more.

Archie Galbraith Cameron

Cameron was a federal MP for 22 years and speaker of the House of Representatives from 1950 to 1956.

Variously described as abrasive, charming, and ruthless, Cameron is famous for his anti-gambling views. Legend has it that in May 1950, he climbed the roof of Old Parliament House and leapt through the press gallery window to shut down a card game.

And, in a famous showdown with the long-serving Parliament House barber, Cameron insisted a poster of Phar Lap be removed from the barber shop.

Cameron was also a stickler when it came to the parliamentary dress code – at least for others. The man himself was known to receive visitors to his office wearing shorts and a singlet, bare feet propped on his desk.

Barry Jones

Classified by the National Trust as an “Australian Living Treasure”, Barry Jones was a federal MP between 1977 and 1998.

Before entering federal politics, Jones made a name for himself as a quiz champion. In the 1960s, he was a regular on the TV show Pick a Box, where he was famous for arguing with the host about the correct answer.

As minister for science, Jones oversaw the founding of Questacon and later authored the influential book Sleepers, Wake!, which interrogated the role of technology and work in a post-industrial society.

An unapologetic intellectual, Jones has been a passionate advocate for the arts, a critic of the “dumbing down” of Australian politics, a campaigner against the death penalty, and much more.

Jacqui Lambie

Lambie was first elected as a senator in 2013 after running for the Palmer United Party. Following a brief stint as an independent, she established the Jacqui Lambie Network.

Tasmania’s favourite battler has a strong record of off-piste comments, from describing her ideal man (“well-hung”, if you were wondering) to some particularly memorable breakfast TV exchanges.

Lambie was booted from parliament in 2017 during the section 44 debacle in which a string of MPs with dual citizenship were forced to resign. In response, Lambie opined that “I think that’s really cutting down our gene pool – and let’s face it, the gene pool is f****d”.

And who could forget the famous dagwood dog incident, which resulted in a photo that could be described as Tasmania’s political Mona Lisa.

Robert Hortle 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.

– ref. Cookbook authors, ‘dukes’ and card game gatecrashers: Australia’s quirkiest politicians – https://theconversation.com/cookbook-authors-dukes-and-card-game-gatecrashers-australias-quirkiest-politicians-271515

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Peter Carew, Senior Lecturer in Audiology, The University of Melbourne; Murdoch Children’s Research Institute

Swimming is one of the best parts of summer. But long after you’ve cooled down and dried off, you might be left with a niggling feeling – there is still water in your ear.

Your ear may feel full or blocked and sounds may be muffled. You may even hear some gurgling or rustling noises.

While water usually drains naturally, a few tips can help speed things up and prevent swimmer’s ear, a common infection after swimming.

Why water gets stuck

You might think your ear canal is a straight tube, but it’s not. It bends twice, and some people’s canals are naturally narrower than others.

The ear canal is lined with hair and wax for protection. It can also develop extra bone growth (exostoses) from years of cold-water swimming, sometimes known as “surfer’s ear”, which can make it even narrower.

When you swim, water can easily get past all these curves and barriers when you dip your head under water or get splashed. But getting it out afterwards can be tricky.

Try the simplest things first

Wiggle and tilt

Gently tug your earlobe up and down while tipping the blocked ear towards your shoulder. This straightens the ear canal and lets gravity help drain water out.

Lie on your side

Lay on your side on a towel for a few minutes, then roll over to the other side. Gravity will help again. In summer, warmth from the sun and towel can also help water in the ear dry faster.

Cup and pump

Press your slightly cupped palm over your ear to form a seal, then gently push and release to create a vacuum effect. You can also press the tragus (the firm skin in front of your ear canal) over the opening of your ear canal several times to encourage movement and drainage.

Do I need ear drops?

If none of these tips have worked so far, you might need some ear drops designed to dry out your ears.

Typically, these contain alcohol, which helps water evaporate faster. You can get these over the counter from a pharmacy.

But be sure to read the instructions, and don’t use them if you have any ear pain, discharge, an ear infection or a hole in your eardrum (or grommets, which are tiny tubes surgically inserted in the eardrum).

Some people make their own drops, using a solution of rubbing alcohol and white vinegar in equal proportions. This makes the ear canal more acidic, which can help prevent bacteria and fungal growth.

Be cautious when you use your own drops (again, don’t use them if you think you have a hole in your eardrum) and only use a few drops in each ear.

What not to do

Never put anything in your ears – even fingers or the tip of a towel can push water, wax and anything else trapped in your ear deeper and worsen the problem.

You might also scratch the delicate canal skin, increasing infection risk.

Avoid cotton buds and stick to the tips above.

Is trapped water dangerous?

Many people find the feeling annoying. But warm, moist places are also ideal for bacteria and fungi, so water trapped in the ear canal can lead to swimmer’s ear (otitis externa).

Symptoms include pain when moving the outer ear (the bit you can see), itchiness, discharge, redness or swelling, and sometimes fever.

Around one in ten people experience it at some point in their lives, most often during summer, and kids aged 7–14 are at higher risk.

If you suspect you have swimmer’s ear, it is important to see a medical professional as you will likely need treatment (typically antibiotic drops and pain relief).

Avoid swimming after storms or in polluted water, which carries more bacteria.

Freshwater sources such as rivers and lakes pose greater risk than salty ocean water, while properly chlorinated pools are generally pretty safe.

How to avoid it and when to seek help

If you don’t like the feeling after swimming – or you frequently get water trapped in your ears – invest in a swim cap or some ear plugs. Audiologists can help you find or customise earplugs to fit your ears.

Prioritise drying out ears once you are finished swimming, and use some of the tips above. For kids, making it into a game can help.

If an ear feels painful, inflamed or looks swollen, there might be an ear infection and it’s best to seek advice and attention from your GP.

If you still feel like you have water in your ears after two to three days, it’s best to also get it checked out.

Peter Carew is a member of Audiology Australia.

– ref. How can I get water out of my ear after swimming? – https://theconversation.com/how-can-i-get-water-out-of-my-ear-after-swimming-270674

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Katharine Kemp, Associate Professor, Faculty of Law & Justice; Lead, UNSW Public Interest Law & Tech Initiative, UNSW Sydney

You’ve been given an ugly t-shirt and a book you’ve already read. But if you don’t have the receipts, can you return them?

Or what if someone’s given you a gift that’s defective in some way?

Before you box up your unwanted presents and head to the shops, here’s what the Australian Consumer Law – the rules on consumers’ rights and business responsibilities – says about asking for a return, exchange or refund under different circumstances.

Can I return gifts as ‘change of mind’ without a receipt?

Australian consumer law generally doesn’t require retailers to accept returns for change of mind alone.

So if you just didn’t like the gift, that’s not enough under the law to be able to ask for the money back.

If a business has a “change of mind” returns policy, they have to honour it. Otherwise, they may get in trouble for “misleading conduct” under the consumer law.

But even for stores allowing change of mind returns, they usually have a list of exceptions, including underwear, beauty products, food and more – so check their rules.

All retailers will want to see some proof of purchase – though not necessarily the original receipt.

What are my rights if the gift’s faulty?

If a product is defective, under Australian consumer law shoppers have a lot more rights than many people realise. It can help to use the phrase “Australian consumer law” so the retailer knows you’re aware of your rights.

What you can ask for depends on whether or not there’s a “major failure” of your basic rights under consumer law, known as “consumer guarantees”.

A “major failure” of a consumer guarantee is when the product:

• is unsafe

• has either one serious problem, or several smaller problems, which would have stopped a reasonable person from buying the product

• is very different from the description, sample or demonstration the purchaser received before purchase

• can’t be used for its expected purpose and can’t easily be fixed within a reasonable time.

In these cases, you’re entitled to your choice of a replacement product or a full refund, if you can produce either a receipt or other proof of purchase.

For other more minor failures that can be remedied, the business only has to repair it for free within a reasonable time. It doesn’t have to offer you a replacement or refund.

However, if you’ve caused damage to the product yourself, you may not be able to rely on the consumer guarantees.

There are exceptions to the consumer guarantees. For instance, some don’t apply to goods sold by auction. And most don’t apply to “non-business” sellers, such as private sellers on Gumtree or Facebook Marketplace.

What if the original packaging is missing or damaged?

If the product is faulty in one of the ways above, you’re still entitled to those consumer law remedies – even if the original packaging is missing or damaged.

But if you’re returning for change of mind, most retailers require the product to be in saleable condition, with packaging intact.

What counts as proof of purchase?

You need proof of purchase to establish your right to consumer guarantees, but this doesn’t have to be a receipt.

Other types of proof of purchase can include:

• a credit card statement

• a warranty card showing the date and place of purchase

• receipt number or reference number given over the phone or internet

• the serial number, if this is stored in the store’s computer system.

The law doesn’t specify exactly what proof of purchase is sufficient. The consumer just needs to be able to reasonably prove they bought the item.

So if was a gift, you’re likely to need some help from the gift-giver.

Importantly, you don’t have to have an original copy: photos and photocopies also count. So if you’re ever buying something expensive, take a photo of your receipt immediately. It can save you time and money later.

Does it make a difference if it was bought online or in a shop?

For faulty products, Australian consumer law rights apply whether the gift was bought online or in a shop.

A guarantee that’s especially helpful for online purchases is that goods must “correspond with the description”.

For example, you would be entitled to your choice of a refund or replacement if the photo advertising a suitcase showed or described a combination lock as a feature, but the one you received had no lock.

What if the store still says no?

If the product’s faulty, it’s illegal for businesses to refer to store policies or terms and conditions that deny your right to consumer guarantees – such as policies saying “no refunds or exchanges on sale items”.

If you think a business hasn’t delivered on Australia’s consumer law guarantees, you may be able to ask for a repair, replacement, refund, cancellation or compensation for damages or loss.

You can read more on the process of making a complaint – starting with the business the item came from.

Katharine Kemp is a member of the research committee of the Consumer Policy Research Centre, an independent, not-for-profit consumer think-tank.

– ref. Can you return gifts without a receipt or packaging? A legal expert explains – https://theconversation.com/can-you-return-gifts-without-a-receipt-or-packaging-a-legal-expert-explains-270084

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Prudence Rees-Lee, PhD Candidate, School of Design, RMIT University

Daphne Oram (1925–2003) was one of Britain’s most important early electronic composers. Oram trained first as a pianist and composer and turned down a place at the Royal College of Music to work at the BBC, where late-night tape experiments and hands-on work with microphones and oscillators drew her from conventional composition into pioneering electronic sound.

In 1958 she co-founded the BBC Radiophonic Workshop, a studio set up to create sound effects and electronic scores for radio and TV. On the wall she pinned a passage from Francis Bacon’s 17th-century utopia New Atlantis about imaginary sound-houses where scientists manipulate echoes, invent new instruments and transmit sound “in strange lines and distances”.

Bacon’s sound houses are often read now as a prophetic sketch of the modern electronic music studio.

The Workshop would famously go on to produce the Doctor Who theme, but Oram’s time there was brief. Less than a year after its opening she left, frustrated by bureaucracy and the institution’s small, utilitarian vision for what electronic sound could be.

Despite her key influence on electronic composition, Oram’s name still isn’t as mainstream as some of the ideas and technologies she helped to normalise.

This December marks her centenary, and her archive is sparking new works, releases and performances, proving her ideas are still alive and still adventurous. Here are five things you should know about this visionary woman.

1. She grew up in a household where séances were the norm

Oram’s parents were involved in the spiritualist movement and hosted séances in the family home. The idea of disembodied sound as a portal to another world was something she grew up with.

It was a household where unseen forces, signals and voices from “elsewhere” were taken seriously.

This backdrop makes Oram’s later fascination with invisible vibrations and electronic sound feel strangely inevitable.

2. She invented her own instrument, Oramics

After leaving the BBC, Oram set up Oramics Studios for Electronic Composition at her home, the delightfully named Tower Folly. Here she began building her own machine: the Oramics system.

Using strips of 35mm film, she drew shapes that controlled pitch, volume, timbre and envelope. These were then translated into sound by photo-electric cells and oscillators.

Oram was not the first to experiment with this kind of “drawn sound” system.

But Oramics was distinctive in its ambition and in the way it centred the composer’s hand, eye and imagination, humanising electronic sound.

The partially restored Oramics machine is now held by the Science Museum in London.

3. She believed electronic sound could help us imagine different futures

In her 1972 book, An Individual Note of Music, Sound and Electronics, Oram wrote:

Do you think it is the role of music always to reflect the life of the day? I think it is much more than that […] I think it should not only reflect the life of the day but show the possibilities for the future.

This captures the forward looking orientation that characterised much of Oram’s writing.

Oram consistently returned to Bacon’s “soundhouses” as a guiding metaphor for imagining technological and social progress through sound. Her ambitious 1960 manifesto, Atlantis Anew, reinterprets Bacon’s utopian vision to propose an expanded role for sound in society: from rehabilitating criminals and healing the sick to facilitating communication with the non-human world.

4. Still Point imagined live electronic processing decades before DJ culture

In 1948, at just 23, Oram wrote Still Point, a piece for two orchestras, turntables and real-time electronic processing.

Still Point was shelved and effectively lost for years, before it finally premiered at the BBC Proms in 2018.

Still Point is regarded as one of the first works to call for live electronic processing of an acoustic ensemble. It was startlingly ahead of its time in its treatment of sound as something spatial and architectural, not just musical.

Oram scores the piece for two orchestras: one “dry”, shielded with acoustic baffles, and one “wet”, more exposed and resonant. During performance their sound is picked up, routed through turntables, amplified and fed into echo, so the orchestras are effectively reshaped in real time as moving, malleable sonic objects.

It’s incredible to think of the kind of imagination required to conceive of this when DJing as we know it today didn’t coalesce until the late 1960s.

The piece was originally submitted for the inaugural Prix Italia in 1950, but was turned down on the basis that the work could only be judged as a “straight score” and the adjudicators wouldn’t understand the “acoustic variants and pre-recording techniques” it used.

5. She foresaw a more inclusive future, and it’s arriving via her own archive

In 1994, Oram published an essay titled Looking Back … To See Ahead, in which she reflects on women’s roles in music.

She’s direct about how women were sidelined in studios and institutions, but surprisingly upbeat. She suggests the rise of personal computers and home recording could allow women to bypass gatekeepers and work independently of exclusionary, male-dominated studio cultures.

That prediction is now playing out. The Oram Awards were set up in 2017 to support women and gender-diverse artists working in sound. For her centenary, they’ve partnered with nonclassical and the Daphne Oram Trust on vari/ations, Ode to Oram, a compilation where contemporary electronic artists create new work from samples of Oram’s tapes.

It’s hard to imagine a better way to honour someone who thought so deeply about sound, futurity and access: a new generation using her archive not as a museum piece, but as raw material for the worlds they want to hear next.

Prudence Rees-Lee 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.

– ref. 5 things to know about Daphne Oram, the visionary pioneer in electronic music – https://theconversation.com/5-things-to-know-about-daphne-oram-the-visionary-pioneer-in-electronic-music-266591

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Sam Whiting, Vice-Chancellor’s Senior Research Fellow in Music Industries and Cultural Economy, RMIT University

I recently had an urgent surgery to have a malignant growth removed. Unfortunately, this meant I was too immobile to attend the Melbourne event of the annual hard rock festival Good Things, this year headlined by the greatest band of all time, Tool.

I explained my situation to OzTix, Good Things’ ticketing provider, and requested a refund for two tickets – but was denied on the grounds I hadn’t purchased “refund protection”.

I was then directed to a resale platform, Twickets, which only allows resale at the initial cost price. This is a poor option for tickets to events that are yet to sell out, as buyers can simply buy from the primary vendor at the same price point.

Disappointed, the experience got me thinking about the considerable consolidation of the Australian ticketing market, and the addition of “refund protection” as an extra cost.

It’s not just fans who suffer. The lack of competition in this market is negatively impacting artists and promoters alike.

No right to a refund

As event tickets became digitised throughout the 2000s, companies in Australia and overseas started to integrate “refund protection” as an optional purchase at the point of sale.

This additional cost was adopted by the Australian market wholesale during the pandemic. With lockdown-related uncertainty plaguing the events sector, ticketing providers needed to mitigate liability for cancellations and no-shows.

Much of this liability has been passed onto consumers. Most providers no longer bother with robust or discretionary refund policies, no matter how severe the circumstances.

And consumer law only protects consumers if an event is cancelled or postponed – not if they’re unable to attend. If refund protection isn’t purchased, providers are off the hook, even in the event of death.

This approach is a choice, just as it is a choice for airlines to offer refunds or compassionate fares in extenuating circumstances such as a medical emergency.

Refund protection is often costly. It scales with the price of the ticket, becoming more expensive as the cost price increases. And it can only be purchased at the point of sale, which is often six to twelve months before an event. All of this amounts to a form of price-gouging that’s not dissimilar to hidden add-ons used by budget airlines.

Resale platforms blocked

Many consumers might forgo purchasing refund protection with the confidence that, if they can no longer attend, they can resell their tickets for cheap (to increase the chances of sale) on a legitimate resale platform such as Tixel.

However, the Good Things festival blocked the resale of tickets on Tixel this year, limiting resale to Twickets at the original cost price.

In such cases, fans with unwanted tickets may turn to unregulated channels such as social media. This increases the risk of scams, adding further uncertainty to the equation.

The live music sector is already struggling. Blocking off a legitimate resale platform could reduce consumers’ confidence in the sector, and may make them hesitant to secure early tickets in future.

Market consolidation

All of this has a lot to do with the relative consolidation of Australia’s ticketing market. The sector is dominated by two major operators, Ticketek and Ticketmaster, owned respectively by multinationals TEG and Live Nation.

This duopoly was further solidified in 2019, when Ticketmaster purchased Australian company Moshtix. Today, only Oztix remains as the primary independent operator in Australia.

A handful of smaller companies offer bespoke ticketing services, such as Eventbrite, Humanitix and TryBooking – but they are yet to crack the live music market in the same way.

Australia’s ticketing market stands in stark contrast to the United Kingdom and Europe, where dozens of ticketing providers compete for business (often in smaller markets such as Denmark and Ireland).

In research conducted during my recent Churchill Fellowship, I spoke to 100 venue operators, promoters and music industry professionals across the UK and Europe. Each had a choice of multiple ticketing services to work with.

This level of competition produces a healthier market for artists, fans and promoters.

For fans, it could mean less hidden fees, more robust refund policies, and reduced prices as fewer costs are passed on.

For promoters, it allows access to more competitive rates and a diversity of back-of-house services. For instance, Dutch company Stager is not only a ticketing platform, but also handles marketing and event management.

And for artists, more competition means potentially less chokepoints between them and fans, as well as greater control over this relationship, potentially reducing the ability of intermediaries (such as ticketing companies and promoters) to squeeze transactions for unnecessary profits and audience data, an increasingly important asset.

Read more:
Chokepoint Capitalism: why we’ll all lose unless we stop Amazon, Spotify and other platforms squeezing cash from creators

Dealing with anti-competitive practices

The government has already taken action to crack down on dynamic pricing for concert tickets. It should go further.

Encouraging new market entrants could help boost competition. New entrants have failed to break in since ticketing, like much of Australia’s music industry, has been locked up through a series of handshake deals, personal relationships and decades-long contracts.

In 2019, UK-based operator DICE attempted to enter the market, but the pandemic and other factors stymied its efforts.

Australia also suffers from a lack of anti-trust laws, which would be relevant in the case of Live Nation, TEG, and their vertical integration of ticketing.

The Australian Competition and Consumer Commission (ACCC) could be doing more to investigate anti-competitive practices, such as the blocking of legitimate resale sites such as Tixel.

And if new entrants aren’t able to make an impact in a market of almost 28 million people, the ACCC should be asking why – and what can be done about it.

The Conversation reached out to OzTix for comment, but it did not reply within the allocated timeframe.

Sam Whiting receives funding from RMIT University, the Winston Churchill Trust and Sound NSW.

– ref. Too sick to attend, too bad: why the live music ticketing market is broken – https://theconversation.com/too-sick-to-attend-too-bad-why-the-live-music-ticketing-market-is-broken-271618

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Jonti Horner, Professor (Astrophysics), University of Southern Queensland

In the run up to Christmas, carols fill the air. Many have an astronomical twist, singing of the “Christmas Star” from the story of the nativity. Described in the Gospel of Matthew, the star guided the three wise men to the cradle of the young baby Jesus in a manger in Bethlehem.

Most Biblical scholars agree Jesus was born between 6 and 4 BCE. It’s not known what time of year he was born, but those scholars suggest it was most likely in April or May.

The choice of December 25 to celebrate Jesus’ birth came centuries later, and is tied to the date of the winter solstice in the Roman calendar, when the northern hemisphere experiences its shortest day.

Many Biblical scholars also view the Christmas Star, which is also known as the Star of Bethlehem, as pious fiction – a symbolic story meant to establish the messianic status of Jesus, rather than a real event. But what if it was some sort of astronomical phenomenon?

Astronomers have long pondered this question and proffered some potential explanations. Perhaps historical records from across the globe might reveal what the Magi saw, and help to work out exactly when the events in the story happened.

If so, what could the Christmas Star have been?

A bright comet?

The idea that the Christmas Star might have been a bright comet has a long history. The Adoration of the Magi, painted in 1305 by Giotto di Bondonne, featured a comet in pride of place as the Christmas Star.

Giotto’s cometary Christmas Star was inspired by the bright apparition of comet 1P/Halley, which the artist observed in 1301. So could 1P/Halley, or another bright comet, have been the Star of Bethlehem?

Comet Halley orbits the Sun every 74 to 79 years, so it has made regular spectacular appearances throughout human history. It was widely observed across the planet in the year 12 BCE – too early to be the star of the Christmas Story.

What about other comets? Well, astronomers and historians have dug through the records of comets seen by cultures across the globe, and only one comet stands out as a potential candidate for the story.

A comet is recorded in ancient Chinese records, seen in 5 BCE. That comet was flagged as a potential Star of Bethlehem in the late 1990s, with the Chinese observations noting the comet was visible for more than 70 days.

Recently, the idea that the comet of 5 BCE could have been the Christmas Star has leapt back into focus, thanks to research that suggests the comet of 5 BCE followed an unusual path through the inner Solar System, and made a remarkably close approach to Earth. In that scenario, the comet would have appeared almost stationary in the sky for a lengthy period of time – all the hallmarks of the star from the Nativity.

Read more:
Stories from the sky: astronomy in Indigenous knowledge

A supernova?

Some astronomers have argued a supernova would be an ideal candidate for the Christmas Star. Supernovae are immense explosions caused either by massive stars reaching the end of their lives, or white dwarfs (the remains of a star like the Sun) suffering a terminal case of stellar indigestion as they devour a companion.

Both types of supernova are a spectacular sight – outshining the combined light of all other stars in their host galaxies for a period of several weeks. As a result, supernovae that explode within our own galaxy, the Milky Way, can become highly prominent – sometimes even becoming bright enough to be visible in daylight.

Once again, astronomers pored over ancient records, looking to find potential observations of a bright supernova that would fit with the nativity story.

Reports from Korea to Palestine described a new star in the night sky – an object that was most likely a supernova. It is estimated to have peaked in brightness around February 23 in 4 BCE, in the constellation of Aquila, the Eagle.

This could be a good fit. In February, Aquila rises in the east in the early morning, a few hours before sunrise. As such, a bright supernova in that part of the sky would be a spectacular morning star high in the eastern sky – remaining bright for several weeks before fading away, never to be seen again.

A planetary conjunction?

In recent years, the most common claim for the Christmas Star is that it was actually a planetary conjunction. This is when planets get very close to one another in the sky, as happened back in December 2020 with the “Great Conjunction” of Jupiter and Saturn.

This idea has been raised, on and off, for more than four centuries, since the great scientist Johannes Kepler suggested in 1614 that the triple conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn in 7 BCE could have triggered a nova that became the star in question.

The 7 BCE conjunction was far from spectacular, with Jupiter and Saturn separated by more than a degree. But just a few years later, in 2 BCE, there were a striking series of conjunctions between the brightest planets in the sky: Jupiter and Venus.

Could one of those conjunctions have been the Christmas Star? It seems unlikely. The Venus–Jupiter conjunctions would have been seen in the evening sky, low in the west – making them a poor fit to the nativity story.

Or perhaps, there was no star?

None of the explanations put forward to date seem to perfectly match the story passed down through the centuries.

So it might just be the case that there simply was no Christmas Star – that the story truly is a pious fiction.

But it is still worth considering what it might have been; at the very least, it can teach us about some of the many wonders of the universe. And who knows what more we will discover in the years to come – we certainly haven’t heard the last speculation about the true nature of the “Star of Wonder”.

Duane Hamacher received funding from the Australian Research Council and the University of Melbourne. He is also President of the International Society for Archaeoastronomy and Astronomy in Culture, and the Australian Association for Astronomy in Culture.

Jonti Horner 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.

– ref. What was the ‘Christmas Star’? Astronomy might hold the answer – https://theconversation.com/what-was-the-christmas-star-astronomy-might-hold-the-answer-270358

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By John Hawkins, Head, Canberra School of Government, University of Canberra

It might seem worlds away from the Earth we know. But can Star Trek teach us anything about the economics of our own society?

Set in the mid-23rd century, the original Star Trek series told the story of the starship Enterprise. Its crew were led by the human Captain James Kirk and the half-Vulcan Mr Spock.

From post-scarcity societies to hyper-capitalist alien cultures, the now legendary sci-fi franchise the show spawned offers surprisingly rich material for economists and curious minds alike.

As we wind down for the holiday season, let’s take a light-hearted journey into one of pop culture’s most enduring sci-fi universes.

A society without money?

There is macroeconomics in Star Trek, but not as we know it. Scarcity seems much less of an issue in the Star Trek world.

That’s because, within the interstellar government known as The Federation, machines called replicators generate food and other objects. Money is claimed to be no longer used.

Some scholars interpret Star Trek’s relative absence of money in Marxian terms as a step towards a classless society.

There are, however, passing references to “credits”. In one episode, a villain is accused of having used counterfeit currency to purchase a ship.

In another, Kirk describes a pile of diamonds as an “incredible fortune in stones”. It seems even in the 23rd century, money still has some uses.

Read more:
If AI takes most of our jobs, money as we know it will be over. What then?

Logic and emotions

In one early episode, the engineer Montgomery “Scotty” Scott famously tells Captain Kirk he “can’t change the laws of physics”.

But the laws of economics also still operate. Despite material wealth, everyone still only has 24 hours in their day and has to make choices.

There are still what economists call “opportunity costs”: doing one thing means having less time for another. So, we can learn about economics from Star Trek, just as we can from Star Wars.

Underpinning many classical economic theories was the concept of “homo economicus” or the “economic man”. This is the idea that humans are rational and self-interested and will always make decisions that maximise their personal benefit.

Spock seems to fit this description. He is unemotional, or at least suppresses his emotions. He prides himself on always making logical decisions.

More recently, however, the field of behavioural economics has challenged this view of human beings as perfectly rational.

It argues human beings are more like Kirk – we try to make good decisions but are sometimes swayed by impatience or influenced by a wide range of emotions. Behavioural economists are trying to predict what Kirk would do, rather than Spock.

Hyper-capitalist aliens

Across the entire franchise, viewers are introduced to a variety of alien races. They are at different levels of technological progress – but not that different.

One of the most vivid illustrations of economic behaviour comes from the Ferengi, who feature prominently in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine series.

The Ferengi are a mercantile alien race whose culture revolves around the accumulation of wealth and profit. They aren’t members of the “post-money” Federation.

They live by a codified set of business maxims, the “Rules of Acquisition”. These rules reflect their deeply ingrained profit-seeking ethos. Some of the more memorable include:

Rule 10: greed is eternal

Rule 21: never place friendship above profit

Rule 33: it never hurts to suck up to the boss

Rule 62: the riskier the road, the greater the profit.

These rules encapsulate the Ferengi’s relentless pursuit of profit, and their efforts to increase economic rent through various means including manipulation of market and institutional structures.

An unscrupulous boss

A prime example is Quark, the archetypal Ferengi who owns a popular bar and restaurant. Quark exploits his monopsony power – being the sole employer in a niche market – to underpay staff and impose harsh working conditions.

This is a practical demonstration of Rule 211:

Employees are the rungs on the ladder of success. Don’t hesitate to step on them.

But in one episode, Quark’s employees go on strike, prompting him to use underhanded tactics to suppress collective bargaining and maintain control.

This storyline mirrors real-world labour market dynamics and the tension between capital and labour.

Monopoly power

In the series Star Trek: Voyager, we see how access to key technology and asymmetric information can lead to monopoly power and exploitation.

In the episode “False Profits”, two Ferengi stranded on a primitive planet use replicator technology to produce goods, presenting themselves as divine sages.

Their technological advantage allows them to extract maximum rent from the unsuspecting locals.

One possible future?

Star Trek has also become a shorthand for one possible impact of innovation. Futurist and tech entrepreneur Jerry Kaplan has contrasted two futures for humanity.

One is a Star Trek world where technology’s benefits are widely shared. The other is a Terminator-style future where self-aware artificial intelligence (AI) tries to wipe out humanity.

Where exactly we’re headed remains the subject of debate. But from Spock’s logic to Quark’s scheming, Star Trek reminds us that even in the far reaches of space, economics still matters.

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.

– ref. Can you ‘live long and prosper’ by learning economics from Star Trek? Or is that ‘highly illogical’? – https://theconversation.com/can-you-live-long-and-prosper-by-learning-economics-from-star-trek-or-is-that-highly-illogical-246988