The timing and targets of Israel’s attacks on Iran tell us that Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s short-term goal is to damage Iran’s nuclear facilities in order to severely diminish its weapons program.
But Netanyahu has made clear another goal: he said the war with Iran “could certainly” lead to regime change in the Islamic republic.
It’s no secret Israel has wanted to see the current government of Iran fall for some time, as have many government officials in the US.
But what would things look like if the government did topple?
How is power wielded in today’s Iran?
Founded in 1979 after the Iranian Revolution, the Islamic Republic of Iran has democratic, theocratic and authoritarian elements to its governing structure.
The founding figure of the Islamic republic, Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, envisioned a state run by Islamic clerics and jurists who ensured all policies adhered to Islamic law.
Iran has a unicameral legislature (one house of parliament), called the Majles, and a president (currently Masoud Pezeshkian). There are regular elections for both.
But while there are democratic elements within this system, in practice it is a “closed loop” that keeps the clerical elite in power and prevents challenges to the supreme leader. There is a clear hierarchy, with the supreme leader at the top.
Khamenei has been in power for more than 35 years, taking office following Khomeini’s death in 1989. The former president of Iran, he was chosen to become supreme leader by the Assembly of Experts, an 88-member body of Islamic jurists.
While members of the assembly are elected by the public, candidates must be vetted by the powerful 12-member Guardian Council (also known as the Constitutional Council). Half of this body is selected by the supreme leader, while the other half is approved by the Majles.
In last year’s elections, the Guardian Council disqualified many candidates from running for president, as well as the Majles and Assembly of Experts, including the moderate former president Hassan Rouhani.
As such, the supreme leader is increasingly facing a crisis of legitimacy with the public. Elections routinely have low turnout. Even with a reformist presidential candidate in last year’s field – the eventual winner, Masoud Pezeshkian – turnout was below 40% in the first round.
The supreme leader also directly appoints the leaders in key governance structures, such as the judiciary, the armed forces and Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC).
The all-powerful IRGC
So, Iran is far from a democracy. But the idea that regime change would lead to a full democracy that is aligned with Israel and the US is very unlikely.
Iranian politics is extremely factional. Ideological factions, such as the reformists, moderates and conservatives, often disagree vehemently on key policy areas. They also jockey for influence with the supreme leader and the rest of the clerical elite. None of these factions is particularly friendly with the US, and especially not Israel.
There are also institutional factions. The most powerful group in the country is the clerical elite, led by the supreme leader. The next most powerful faction would be the IRGC.
The IRGC is extremely hardline politically. At times, the IRGC’s influence domestically has outstripped that of presidents, exerting significant pressure on their policies. The guard only vocally supports presidents in lockstep with Islamic revolutionary doctrine.
In addition to its control over military hardware and its political influence, the guard is also entwined with the Iranian economy.
Given all of this, the IRGC would be the most likely political institution to take control of Iran if the clerical elite were removed from power.
In peacetime, the general consensus is the IRGC would not have the resources to orchestrate a coup if the supreme leader died. But in a time of war against a clear enemy, things could be different.
Possible scenarios post-Khamenei
So, what might happen if Israel were to assassinate the supreme leader?
One scenario would be a martial law state led by the IRGC, formed at least in the short term for the purposes of protecting the revolution.
In the unlikely event the entire clerical leadership is decimated, the IRGC could attempt to reform the Assembly of Experts and choose a new supreme leader itself, perhaps even supporting Khamenei’s son’s candidacy.
Needless to say, this outcome would not lead to a state more friendly to Israel or the US. In fact, it could potentially empower a faction that has long argued for a more militant response to both.
Another scenario is a popular uprising. Netanyahu certainly seems to think this is possible, saying in an interview in recent days:
The decision to act, to rise up this time, is the decision of the Iranian people.
We’ve seen enough revolutions to know this is possible – after all, modern Iran was formed out of one. But once again, new political leadership being more friendly to Israel and the West is not a foregone conclusion.
It is possible for Iranians to hold contempt in their hearts for both their leaders and the foreign powers that would upend their lives.
Andrew Thomas 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.
In an era of the atomisation of viewing practices through streaming, increasingly short, self-produced videos for TikTok and YouTube, and the reduction of all audiovisual material to “content” for various “platforms”, there is something refreshing about a bunch of strangers assembling in a dark room to collectively watch a giant screen with massive sound.
In other words, going to the movies.
And there’s no better place to see films limited in mainstream release than at film festivals. The standard of the films screening at this year’s Sydney Film Festival was exceptional, and it is difficult to select a top five out of the 40 or so I managed to see. But here goes!
Sirât
Produced by Pedro Almodovar, writer-director Oliver Laxe’s Sirât, which recently won the Jury Prize at Cannes, follows middle-aged Luis (Sergi López) as he travels with his son Esteban (Bruno Núñez Arjona) and their dog Pipa looking for his estranged daughter in the desert rave scene. They team up with a group of ravers and set off across Southern Morocco towards the next party.
Early on, there are some hints that things are awry on a broader scale – the military break up the opening doof, and we hear, at one point, World War III has broken out.
And as the film unfolds, things take a turn for the worse, with a litany of tragedies – increasingly absurd – afflicting the members of the group. The vaguely futuristic world of the opening crystallises into something much more terrifying than the kind of shrill cinematic post-apocalypticism we’ve become used to through films like Fury Road.
What begins as a kind of paean to raving – replete with bass-thumping speakers (cranked in theatres to eardrum pounding loudness), a “cool” crew of trippers, and an emphasis on the free lives of the ravers (played by real-life party-goers) – rapidly descends into a wild existential nightmare. And the idea that life is a kind of free consumerist party for westerners is viciously dismembered in the second half: we are all refugees in this era.
Sirât is a masterpiece. Its stunning 16mm film images (courtesy of cinematographer Mauro Herve) are complemented by exceptional sound design by Laia Casanova, a majesty of image and sound demanding to be experienced in a cinema.
Somebody
Written and directed by Lee Jung-chan and Kim Yeo-jung, the South Korean film Somebody is a puzzling, intense psycho drama about precociously evil child So-hyun (Gi So-yoo) and the pressures this places on her single mother Yeong-eun (Kwak Sun-young).
An unsettling horror thriller, the film also plays like a study of the evil child archetype. It works through the genre’s cliches, unpicking them while eschewing the usual evil-kid scares in favour of looking at the complex interplay between and ambiguity around the image of child as brat/evil and mother as caring/enabler.
In the first half, the point of view oscillates between an image of the child as evil and the child as scared. In the second half, the evil child has grown up, and we follow her towards the film’s brutal (and unexpected) ending.
And this is where Somebody excels. It taps into the fear of parents that their children are alien parasites – who is this stranger now living off me? – but also the difficulties for children in feeling isolated and scared.
Somebody is a deeply sad and troubling film, buoyed by excellent performances from adults and children alike. In real life, the idea that a kid would be born evil is preposterous, but it’s a movieland cliché that works. Somebody addresses this idea with a genuinely impressive vision.
Harvest
Athina Rachel Tsangari’s Harvest is a melancholic, elegiac film set in a rural community in Scotland in the Middle Ages. When the economic harmony of the village is disrupted by the advent of a new noble, three wandering strangers are mercilessly scapegoated, despite the efforts of villager Walter Thirsk (Caleb Landry Jones, in a beautifully understated performance) to protect them.
Despite the turmoil it depicts, the film unfolds as gently as the familiar rhythms of the seasons.
Cinematographer Sean Price Williams’ 16mm images are uncannily beautiful, supported by an astonishing score and sound design from Nicolas Becker.
This fable about the ravages of modernity (recalling Vincent Ward’s The Navigator) – of the violence of calendar time as it overcomes the time of the harvest – is exceptional in every respect.
Not much happens. It’s a slow-moving, brooding film, and it would not be nearly as compelling seen on a small screen. But for those of us willing to make a trip to the movies, Harvest is immensely satisfying.
Redux Redux
Part of the eternally rousing Freak Me Out strand of the program from film critic Richard Kuipers, Kevin and Matthew McManus’ Redux Redux is the kind of high concept film that could easily depend too much on its ingenious conceit (a woman travels throughout the multiverse repeatedly avenging the murder of her daughter) and forget about the stuff that actually makes films work (coherent, striking visual design, immersive sound and compelling performances).
But Redux Redux gets everything right, maintaining its iron grip on the viewer from the opening title card to the closing credits. Michaela McManus – sister of the writer-directors – is brilliant as the grieving, vengeful mother, playing the part with a staid intensity that never tips into hysteria or melodrama.
There are some funny moments – the amusingly lowbrow design of the multiverse machine, for example. But the film never feels like it plays too hard for laughs. Paul Koch’s synth music and sound design are richly atmospheric without coming off as trite, and perfectly support the crisp, economical cinematography of Alan Gwizdowski.
The most impressive thing about the film is the effortlessness with which the story feels like it develops throughout – even though the plot, on the surface, involves the same thing being repeated ad nauseam.
Unlike, for example, in the case of the multiverse-themed Everything Everywhere All at Once, Redux Redux never comes across as self-indulgent, clever for its own sake. It never feels like anything other than a compulsively watchable – and immensely pleasurable – revenge thriller.
Alpha
Writer-director Jan-Willem van Ewijk’s Alpha begins as a lightly comedic intergenerational social satire.
Thirty-something Rein (Reinout Scholten van Aschat), a Dutch snowboarder in the Swiss alps, clashes with his movie-star father, Gijs (Gijs Scholten van Aschar), when Gijs visits him. Gijs flirts with Rein’s girlfriend, asks inappropriate questions about race, and parties with his son’s friends, all the time escalating the stakes, becoming increasingly overbearing and competitive.
It’s funny and familiar fare, treading similar terrain to a Ruben Östland film, and it’s well-done. Pairing a real life father and son is a casting act of genius, adding both pathos and authenticity to their competition.
Similar to Sirât, Alpha takes a sudden turn at the mid-way point. Father and son are trapped in an avalanche. It becomes a race against time as son tries to rescue father in a gruelling battle for survival.
Its brutal second half completely detonates the entire scaffold of our pleasure from the first half. Testament to the craft of van Ewijk (and the talent of the stars), this radical change in tone never feels incoherent or contrived.
By the end of Alpha, the petty dick-swinging of father and son from the first half – and the energetic (and well-shot) skiing footage – becomes nothing before the austere, cold majesty of the mountains looming over and entrapping them.
Alpha is a masterclass in audience manipulation. A truly devastating experience for the viewer.
Other notable films – and one dud!
There were too many excellent films to note them all. Some include master auteur Christian Petzold’s Mirrors No. 3, a film – typical of Petzold – of people haunted by ghosts of lives lost and faded desires, an understated film which – again, customary for Petzold’s work – has an enigmatic air one can’t quite put one’s finger on.
Kleber Mendonça Filho’s The Secret Agent was another standout: a fun, rollicking romp for cinephiles about political machinations in Brazil in the 1970s.
Richard Linklater’s Blue Moon, a biopic of American songwriter Lorenz Hart, had a charmingly goofy affect, as did Vie Privée, a breezy French thriller starring Jodie Foster as a psychoanalyst caught up in a mystery.
Olmo, which could easily have made the top five, is a charming coming of age odyssey about a Mexican-American 14-year-old going to a party with his crush. The Love That Remains is a stunningly shot, surreal comedy about the trials and tribulations of an Icelandic family.
As per usual, some exceptional documentaries screened. Joh: The Last King of Queensland made by Kriv Stenders (better known for narrative works like Red Dog), is a formally compelling study of the reign of Australia’s longest serving premier.
The Raftsmen is an uplifting crowd-pleaser about the expedition from Ecuador to Australia that captivated the public’s attention in 1973. The film is built around an exceptional archive of contemporaneous 16mm footage shot by the rafters.
Lowland Kids, produced by Darren Aronofsky, is a carefully observed documentary about a community in Louisiana forced to relocate because of climate change. This tender film counterpoints the grim reality of global warming with the individual disappointments of the characters’ personal lives.
The only truly execrable film I saw was Michel Franco’s Dreams, a hokey, profoundly dumb film masquerading as something cutting edge (wow – there’s sex, and the camera doesn’t move much), cashing in on topical problems in the United States. Worst of all – and despite ballet sequences, which are always good to watch – it’s a very ugly film.
Given the mediocre quality of much contemporary Hollywood cinema, one dud out of 40 isn’t too bad!
Ari Mattes 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.
The Middle East is a region of intense beauty and ancient kingdoms. It has also repeatedly endured periods of geopolitical instability over many centuries.
Today, geopolitical, socio-political and religious tensions persist. The world is currently watching as longstanding regional tensions come to a head in the shocking and escalating conflict between Israel and Iran.
The global airline industry takes a special interest in how such tensions play out. This airspace is a crucial corridor linking Europe, Asia and Africa.
The Middle East is now home to several of the world’s largest international airlines: Emirates, Qatar Airways and Etihad Airways. These airlines’ home bases – Dubai, Doha and Abu Dhabi, respectively – have become pivotal hubs in international aviation.
Keeping passengers safe will be all airlines’ highest priority. What could an escalating conflict mean for both the airlines and the travelling public?
Safety first
History shows that the civil airline industry and military conflict do not mix. On July 3 1988, the USS Vincennes, a US navy warship, fired two surface-to-air missiles and shot down Iran Air Flight 655, an international passenger service over the Persian Gulf.
More recently, on July 17 2014, Malaysian Airlines Flight MH17 was shot down over eastern Ukraine as the battle between Ukrainian forces and pro-Russian separatists continued.
Understandably, global airlines are very risk-averse when it comes to military conflict. The International Civil Aviation Organization requires airlines to implement and maintain a Safety Management System (SMS).
One of the main concerns – known as “pillars” – of the SMS is “safety risk management”. This includes the processes to identify hazards, assess risks and implement risk mitigation strategies.
The risk-management departments of airlines transiting the Middle East region will have been working hard on these strategies.
Headquartered in Montreal, Canada, the International Civil Aviation Organization has strict requirements and protocols to keep passengers safe. meunierd/Shutterstock
Route recalculation
The most immediate and obvious evidence of such strategies being put in place are changes to aircraft routing, either by cancelling or suspending flights or making changes to the flight plans. This is to ensure aircraft avoid the airspace where military conflicts are flaring.
At the time of writing, a quick look at flight tracking website Flightradar24 shows global aircraft traffic avoiding the airspace of Iran, Iraq, Syria, Israel, Jordan, Palestine and Lebanon. The airspace over Ukraine is also devoid of air traffic.
Rerouting, however, creates its own challenges. Condensing the path of the traffic into smaller, more congested areas can push aircraft into and over areas that are not necessarily equipped to deal with such a large increase in traffic.
Having more aircraft in a smaller amount of available safe airspace creates challenges for air traffic control services and the pilots operating the aircraft.
More time and fuel
Avoiding areas of conflict is one of the most visible forms of airline risk management. This may add time to the length of a planned flight, leading to higher fuel consumption and other logistical challenges. This will add to the airlines’ operating costs.
There will be no impact on the cost of tickets already purchased. But if the instability in the region continues, we may see airline ticket prices increase.
It is not just the avoidance of airspace in the region that could place upward pressure on the cost of flying. Airliners run on Jet-A1 fuel, produced from oil.
If Iran closes the Strait of Hormuz, the “world’s most important oil transit chokepoint”, this could see the cost of oil, and in turn Jet-A1, significantly increase. Increasing fuel costs will be passed on the paying passenger. However, some experts believe such a move is unlikely.
A major hub
The major aviation hubs in the Middle East provide increased global connectivity, enabling passengers to travel seamlessly between continents.
Increased regional instability has the potential to disrupt this global connectivity. In the event of a prolonged conflict, airlines operating in and around the region may find they have increased insurance costs. Such costs would eventually find their way passed on to consumers through higher ticket prices.
Across the globe, airlines and governments are issuing travel advisories and warnings. The onus is on the travelling public to stay informed about changes to flight status, and potential delays.
Such warnings and advisories can lead to a drop in passenger confidence, which may then lead to a drop in bookings both into and onwards from the region.
Until the increase in instability in the Middle East, global airline passenger traffic numbers were larger than pre-pandemic figures. Strong growth had been predicted in the coming decades.
Anything that results in falling passenger confidence could negatively impact these figures, leading to slowed growth and affecting airline profitability.
Despite high-profile disasters, aviation remains the safest form of transport. As airlines deal with these challenges they will constantly work to keep flights safe and to win back passenger confidence in this unpredictable situation.
Natasha Heap 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.
Maxar satellite imagery overview of the Fordow enrichment facility located southwest of Tehran.Maxar/Contributor/Getty Images
Conflict between Israel and Iran is intensifying, after Israeli airstrikes on key nuclear sites and targeted assassinations last week were followed by counter-strikes by Iran on Israel.
These attacks have come at a moment of growing concern over Iran’s nuclear program, and have prompted larger questions over what this means for the global non-proliferation regime.
The short answer: it’s not good.
Where was uranium being enriched in Iran?
There are two main enrichment sites: one at Natanz and one at Fordow. There’s also a facility at Isfahan, which, among other things, is focused on producing important materials for the enrichment process.
Natanz has a hall of centrifuges, which are cylindrical devices that spin incredibly quickly to enrich uranium for creating either the fuel for a nuclear power program or the key ingredient for a nuclear weapon.
Much the same is happening at Fordow, as far as we know. It is a smaller facility than Natanz but much of it is buried deep under a mountain.
To make it weapons grade, uranium ought to be close to 90% purity. It is possible to create a bomb with uranium enriched to a lower level, but it is a much less efficient method. So around 90% is the target.
The key nuclear sites being targeted by Israel. CC BY-NC
The Obama-era Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action Iran signed in 2015 (in exchange for the US lifting sanctions) limited Iran’s enrichment capacities and its stockpile of enriched uranium. But Trump ripped up that deal in 2018.
Iran remained in compliance for a while, even while the US resumed its economic sanctions, but in recent years, has started to enrich to higher levels – up to about 60%. We know Iran still hasn’t got weapons-grade enriched uranium, but it’s a lot closer than it was to being able to build a bomb.
And worse, much of their stockpile of enriched uranium will now be effectively unaccounted for because of the strikes by Israel. There are no inspections by the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) happening there now and probably won’t be for some time.
Iran could also say some of its stockpile was destroyed in the strikes – and we’ve got no way of knowing if that’s true or not.
Both Natanz and Fordow have extensive, hardened, underground facilties. The above-ground facility at Natanz, at least, appears to have been badly damaged, based on satellite photos.
Rafael Grossi, the head of the IAEA, said the centrifuges at Natanz were likely to have been “severely damaged if not destroyed altogether”. This was likely caused by power cuts, despite the fact the underground facility was not directly hit.
Grossi said there was no visible damage to the underground facilities at Fordow, which is hidden some 80–90 metres beneath a mountain.
Unlike the United States, Israel doesn’t have the very deep penetrating ordinance that can totally destroy such deeply buried structures.
So a key question is: has Israel done enough damage to the centrifuges inside? Or have Iran’s efforts at fortifying these facilities been successful? We may not know for some time.
Was Iran trying to hide its activities?
In the past, Iran had a clandestine nuclear weapons program laying out the foundation of how it would build a bomb.
We know that because, as part of the diplomatic process associated with the previous nuclear deal that Trump killed off, the IAEA had issued an assessment confirming that Iran previously had this plan in breach of the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons (NPT).
Iran hadn’t actually built weapons or done a test, but it had a plan. And that plan, Project AMAD, was shelved in 2003. We also know that thanks to Israel. In 2018, Israeli special forces undertook a raid in downtown Tehran and stole secret documents revealing this.
When the Obama administration managed to negotiate the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action in 2015, part of the deal was Iran had to accept greater oversight of its nuclear facilities. It had to accept restrictions, limit the number of centrifuges and couldn’t maintain large stockpiles of enriched uranium. This was in exchange for the US lifting sanctions.
These restrictions didn’t make it impossible for Iran to build a weapon. But it made it extremely difficult, particularly without being detected.
What did the IAEA announce last week and why was it concerning?
Last week, the IAEA Board of Governors passed a resolution saying that Iran was in breach of its obligations under the NPT.
This related to Iran being unable to answer questions from inspectors about nuclear activities being undertaken at undeclared sites.
That’s the first time in 20 years the IAEA has come to this finding. This is not why Israel attacked Iran. But it helps explain the exact timing. It gives Israel a degree of cover, perhaps even legitimacy. That legitimacy is surely limited however, given that Israel itself is not a signatory of the NPT and has maintained its own nuclear arsenal for more than half a century.
In response to the IAEA announcement last week, Iran announced it would plan to build a third enrichment site in addition to Fordow and Natanz.
Can a militarised approach to counter-proliferation backfire?
Yes.
When Israel hit the Osirak nuclear reactor in Iraq in 1981, it put Iraq’s nuclear program back by a few years. But the Iraqis redoubled their efforts. By the end of that decade, Iraq was very close to a fully-fledged nuclear weapons program.
Presumably, Israel’s thinking is it will have to redo these strikes – “mowing the grass”, as they say – in an effort to hinder Iran’s attempts to reconstitute the program.
Overnight, Iranian lawmakers also drafted a bill urging Iran to withdraw from the NPT. That is entirely legal under the treaty. Article X of the treaty allows that if “extraordinary events” jeopardise a state party’s “supreme interests” then there’s a legal process for withdrawal.
Only one state has done that since the NPT was opened for signature in 1968: North Korea. Now, North Korea is a nuclear-armed state.
Iran seems likely to withdraw from the treaty under this article. It has experienced a full-scale attack from another country, including strikes on key infrastructure and targeted assassinations of its top leaders and nuclear scientists. If that doesn’t count as a risk to your supreme interests, then I don’t know what does.
Iran’s withdrawal would pose a significant challenge to the wider non-proliferation regime. It may even trigger more withdrawals from other countries.
If Iran withdraws from the NPT, the next big questions are how much damage has Israel done to the centrifuge facilities? How quickly can Iran enrich its uranium stockpile up to weapons grade?
And, ultimately, how much damage has been done to the ever-fragile nuclear non-proliferation regime based around the NPT?
Benjamin Zala has received funding from the Stanton Foundation, a US philanthropic group that funds nuclear research. He is an honorary fellow at the University of Leicester on a project that is funded by the European Research Council.
Maxar satellite imagery overview of the Fordow enrichment facility located southwest of Tehran.Maxar/Contributor/Getty Images
Conflict between Israel and Iran is intensifying, after Israeli airstrikes on key nuclear sites and targeted assassinations last week were followed by counter-strikes by Iran on Israel.
These attacks have come at a moment of growing concern over Iran’s nuclear program, and have prompted larger questions over what this means for the global non-proliferation regime.
The short answer: it’s not good.
Where was uranium being enriched in Iran?
There are two main enrichment sites: one at Natanz and one at Fordow. There’s also a facility at Isfahan, which, among other things, is focused on producing important materials for the enrichment process.
Natanz has a hall of centrifuges, which are cylindrical devices that spin incredibly quickly to enrich uranium for creating either the fuel for a nuclear power program or the key ingredient for a nuclear weapon.
Much the same is happening at Fordow, as far as we know. It is a smaller facility than Natanz but much of it is buried deep under a mountain.
To make it weapons grade, uranium ought to be close to 90% purity. It is possible to create a bomb with uranium enriched to a lower level, but it is a much less efficient method. So around 90% is the target.
The key nuclear sites being targeted by Israel. CC BY-NC
The Obama-era Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action Iran signed in 2015 (in exchange for the US lifting sanctions) limited Iran’s enrichment capacities and its stockpile of enriched uranium. But Trump ripped up that deal in 2018.
Iran remained in compliance for a while, even while the US resumed its economic sanctions, but in recent years, has started to enrich to higher levels – up to about 60%. We know Iran still hasn’t got weapons-grade enriched uranium, but it’s a lot closer than it was to being able to build a bomb.
And worse, much of their stockpile of enriched uranium will now be effectively unaccounted for because of the strikes by Israel. There are no inspections by the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) happening there now and probably won’t be for some time.
Iran could also say some of its stockpile was destroyed in the strikes – and we’ve got no way of knowing if that’s true or not.
Both Natanz and Fordow have extensive, hardened, underground facilties. The above-ground facility at Natanz, at least, appears to have been badly damaged, based on satellite photos.
Rafael Grossi, the head of the IAEA, said the centrifuges at Natanz were likely to have been “severely damaged if not destroyed altogether”. This was likely caused by power cuts, despite the fact the underground facility was not directly hit.
Grossi said there was no visible damage to the underground facilities at Fordow, which is hidden some 80–90 metres beneath a mountain.
Unlike the United States, Israel doesn’t have the very deep penetrating ordinance that can totally destroy such deeply buried structures.
So a key question is: has Israel done enough damage to the centrifuges inside? Or have Iran’s efforts at fortifying these facilities been successful? We may not know for some time.
Was Iran trying to hide its activities?
In the past, Iran had a clandestine nuclear weapons program laying out the foundation of how it would build a bomb.
We know that because, as part of the diplomatic process associated with the previous nuclear deal that Trump killed off, the IAEA had issued an assessment confirming that Iran previously had this plan in breach of the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons (NPT).
Iran hadn’t actually built weapons or done a test, but it had a plan. And that plan, Project AMAD, was shelved in 2003. We also know that thanks to Israel. In 2018, Israeli special forces undertook a raid in downtown Tehran and stole secret documents revealing this.
When the Obama administration managed to negotiate the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action in 2015, part of the deal was Iran had to accept greater oversight of its nuclear facilities. It had to accept restrictions, limit the number of centrifuges and couldn’t maintain large stockpiles of enriched uranium. This was in exchange for the US lifting sanctions.
These restrictions didn’t make it impossible for Iran to build a weapon. But it made it extremely difficult, particularly without being detected.
What did the IAEA announce last week and why was it concerning?
Last week, the IAEA Board of Governors passed a resolution saying that Iran was in breach of its obligations under the NPT.
This related to Iran being unable to answer questions from inspectors about nuclear activities being undertaken at undeclared sites.
That’s the first time in 20 years the IAEA has come to this finding. This is not why Israel attacked Iran. But it helps explain the exact timing. It gives Israel a degree of cover, perhaps even legitimacy. That legitimacy is surely limited however, given that Israel itself is not a signatory of the NPT and has maintained its own nuclear arsenal for more than half a century.
In response to the IAEA announcement last week, Iran announced it would plan to build a third enrichment site in addition to Fordow and Natanz.
Can a militarised approach to counter-proliferation backfire?
Yes.
When Israel hit the Osirak nuclear reactor in Iraq in 1981, it put Iraq’s nuclear program back by a few years. But the Iraqis redoubled their efforts. By the end of that decade, Iraq was very close to a fully-fledged nuclear weapons program.
Presumably, Israel’s thinking is it will have to redo these strikes – “mowing the grass”, as they say – in an effort to hinder Iran’s attempts to reconstitute the program.
Overnight, Iranian lawmakers also drafted a bill urging Iran to withdraw from the NPT. That is entirely legal under the treaty. Article X of the treaty allows that if “extraordinary events” jeopardise a state party’s “supreme interests” then there’s a legal process for withdrawal.
Only one state has done that since the NPT was opened for signature in 1968: North Korea. Now, North Korea is a nuclear-armed state.
Iran seems likely to withdraw from the treaty under this article. It has experienced a full-scale attack from another country, including strikes on key infrastructure and targeted assassinations of its top leaders and nuclear scientists. If that doesn’t count as a risk to your supreme interests, then I don’t know what does.
Iran’s withdrawal would pose a significant challenge to the wider non-proliferation regime. It may even trigger more withdrawals from other countries.
If Iran withdraws from the NPT, the next big questions are how much damage has Israel done to the centrifuge facilities? How quickly can Iran enrich its uranium stockpile up to weapons grade?
And, ultimately, how much damage has been done to the ever-fragile nuclear non-proliferation regime based around the NPT?
Benjamin Zala has received funding from the Stanton Foundation, a US philanthropic group that funds nuclear research. He is an honorary fellow at the University of Leicester on a project that is funded by the European Research Council.
Ever find yourself unable to stop scrolling through your phone, chasing that next funny video or interesting post?
Or maybe you’ve felt a rush of excitement when you achieve a goal, eat a delicious meal, or fill your online shopping cart.
Why do some experiences feel so rewarding, while others leave us feeling flat? Well, dopamine might be responsible for that. Here’s what it does in our brains and bodies.
It’s a chemical messenger
Dopamine is a neurotransmitter – a chemical messenger that facilitates communication between the brain and the central nervous system. It sends messages between different parts of your nervous system, helping your body and brain coordinate everything from your movement to your mood.
Dopamine is most known for its role in short-term pleasure, and the boost we get from things such as eating tasty foods, drinking alcohol, scrolling social media or falling in love.
It even plays a role in kidney function by regulating the levels of salt and water we excrete.
Conversely, low levels of dopamine have been linked to neurodegenerative disorders such as Parkinson’s disease.
How dopamine motivates us to pursue pleasure
Dopamine is not just active when we do pleasurable things. It’s active beforehand and it drives us to pursue pleasure.
Say I go to a cafe and decide to buy a doughnut. When I bite into the doughnut, it tastes fantastic. Dopamine surges and I experience pleasure.
The next time I walk past the cafe, dopamine is already active. It remembers the doughnut I had last time and how delicious it was. Dopamine drives me to walk back into the cafe, purchase another doughnut and eat it.
From an evolutionary perspective, dopamine was incredibly important and it ensured survival of the species. It motivated behaviours such as hunting and foraging for food. It reinforced the pursuit of finding shelter and safety and keeping away from predators. And it motivated people to seek out mates and to reproduce.
However, modern technology has amplified the effects of dopamine, leading to negative consequences. Activities such as excessive social media use, gambling, consuming alcohol, drug use, sex, pornography and gaming can stimulate dopamine release, creating cycles of addiction and compulsive behaviours.
Our dopamine levels can vary
Our brain is constantly releasing small amounts of dopamine at a “baseline” rate. This is because dopamine is crucial to the functioning of our brain and body, irrespective of pleasure.
Everyone has a different baseline, influenced by genetic factors such as our DRD2 dopamine receptor genes. Some people produce and metabolise dopamine faster than other people. Our baseline levels can also be influenced by sleep, nutrition and stress in our lives.
If I play games on my phone all morning and get a dopamine release from that, then I eat something tasty for morning tea, I may not experience the same level of fulfilment or enjoyment that I would have had I not played those games.
The brain works hard to regulate itself and it won’t allow us to be in a constant state of dopamine “highs”. This means we can build a tolerance to certain exciting activities if we seek them out too much, as the brain wants to avoid being in a state of constant dopamine “highs”.
Healthy ways to get a dopamine boost
Thankfully, there are healthy, non-addictive ways to boost your dopamine levels.
Exercise is one of the most effective methods for boosting dopamine naturally. Physical activities such as walking, running, cycling, or even dancing can trigger the release of dopamine, leading to improved mood and greater motivation.
Research has shown listening to music you enjoy makes your brain release more dopamine, giving you a pleasurable experience.
And of course, spending time with people whose company we enjoy is another great way to activate dopamine.
Incorporating these habits into daily life can support your brain’s natural dopamine production and help you enjoy lasting improvements in motivation, mood and overall health.
Anastasia Hronis is the author of The Dopamine Brain: Your Science-Backed Guide to Balancing Pleasure and Purpose, published by Penguin Books Aus & NZ.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Michael Westaway, Australian Research Council Future Fellow, Archaeology, School of Social Science, The University of Queensland
Last week, the Queensland government launched the ambitious Destination 2045 tourism plan, which aims to make the state a global leader in tourism. The plan highlights that one in six jobs in tropical north Queensland are supported by tourism.
However, earlier this year the same government tentatively withdrew support from a campaign to add Cape York to the UNESCO World Heritage List.
If the goal is to position Queensland as a leader in tourism, then linking Cape York’s landscapes to the World Heritage brand would certainly help achieve that.
Consultation is key
In June 2024, Steven Miles, Labor’s then-premier in Queensland, and Tanya Plibersek, the federal environment minister, announced they had placed seven of the cape’s national parks on Australia’s tentative World Heritage list.
In January, however, the newly elected Liberal-National government, under Premier David Crisafulli, ordered a review of the decision. The government cited concerns over a lack of sufficient consultation around the nomination.
If a lack of consultation is the main issue, there is an opportunity for the Crissafulli government to thoughtfully reopen negotiations.
Getting this step right could help conserve and encourage tourism to one of Australia’s most diverse landscapes – in line with the Destination 2045 plan.
How to get onto (and kicked off) UNESCO’s list
Cape York covers some 137,000 square kilometres. According to the 2021 census, it has a population of less than 8,000 people, including 3,678 Aboriginals and Torres Strait Islanders.
Fruit Bat Falls is a waterfall located in the Apudthama National Park (Jardine River National Park) in Cape York. Jason Clark/Flickr, CC BY-NC
Inscription to the World Heritage list doesn’t mean the entire cape would be listed – just specific sites and landscapes within it.
It’s usually the responsibility of a country’s various governments to convince UNESCO, in a nomination bid, a certain place has the necessary “outstanding universal value” and meets at least one of UNESCO’s ten selection criteria.
Sites that are physically altered or damaged after receiving World Heritage status can be de-listed, either by a state party or by UNESCO. This has happened in Oman, Germany, the United Kingdom and Georgia.
We also recently saw the Murujuga Cultural Landscape in Western Australia, with its extraordinary record of rock engravings (petroglyphs), denied World Heritage inscription. This was mainly due to the threat of ongoing damage from industrial emissions from Woodside Energy’s nearby Karratha gas plant.
World Heritage status: a risk or benefit?
A carefully considered World Heritage inscription doesn’t necessarily block industries and tourism from the listed area.
Many of the archaeological sites of the Willandra Lakes World Heritage Area in New South Wales are located on sheep stations. These stations, established in the late 19th century, have individual property plans that ensure the sites are conserved while remaining viable for agricultural activity.
Another example is the tourism seen at the extraordinary eel trap system of Budj Bim in southwest Victoria. Budj Bim is one of Australia’s most recent additions to the World Heritage list. It is also the first site to be inscribed solely for its cultural value.
The Budj Bim eel traps were engineered some 6,600 years ago, and represent one of the world’s oldest aquaculture systems.
This cultural landscape is now home to a thriving tourism program that attracts thousands of visitors each year. The World Heritage listing ensures there are enough resources for the Gunditjmara Traditional Owners running the site to improve the health of Country through cultural and environmental management.
While Queensland’s current government has cited concerns over planning restrictions, these types of concerns are typically based on perception rather than proven harm. In Queensland, they were also clearly addressed in government memos and communications.
Tasmania’s forestry sector resisted World Heritage expansion (there were four expansions between 1989–2013), yet tourism in the region remains economically valuable.
It’s unlikely the Cape York nominations would threaten the pastoral or mining industries, since most of the nominated sites are already protected as national parks.
What makes a World Heritage site?
The list of Cape York sites submitted for World Heritage consideration has some strong contenders. Quinkan Country is undoubtedly the most significant site on the list, distinguished by its diversity and richness of Aboriginal paintings and engravings.
But the list isn’t exhaustive. There are several other Aboriginal cultural landscapes in Cape York that also deserve to be considered by UNESCO. These include the giant shell mounds around Weipa, Jiigurru (Lizard Island), and the Flinders Island Group with its extraordinary rock art galleries.
Moving forward
World heritage listings in Cape York have great potential to allow Aboriginal people to care for the landscapes and create tourism infrastructure that centres Aboriginal perspectives.
Appointing Aboriginal rangers in the Flinders Island Group could help deliver a unique and sustainable cultural tourism experience, similar to that provided at the World Heritage-listed Kakadu National Park. Destination 2045 highlights the importance of developing Aboriginal ranger programs in such landscapes to boost cultural tourism and economic growth.
Inggal Odul (Denham Island part of Flinders Island Group). Source: Olivia Arnold (2023).
The Crisafulli government now has the opportunity to meaningfully engage with the Traditional Custodians of the Cape York landscapes that have been put forth. We argue that the World Heritage listing outcome could help the cape’s economic development and support its communities.
Michael Westaway receives funding from then Australian Research Council and has undertaken research with Aboriginal communities in the Kaurarag Archipelago, around Mapoon and Weipa including on the Steve Irwin Wildlife Reserve and in the Flinders Island Group adjacent to Princess Charlotte Bay.
Anna M. Kotarba-Morley receives funding from the Australian Research Council (ARC). Ania previously sat on the International Council of Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS) World Heritage Nomination Bids review panel. Ania undertakes research with Aboriginal communities including within the Kaurareg Archipelago.
Denis Rose is on the board of the not-for-profit Country Needs People, which advocates for Indigenous Protected Areas and the Indigenous Rangers Program.
Olivia Arnold has undertaken research with Aboriginal communities in the Flinders Island Group adjacent to Princess Charlotte Bay, Kaurarag Archipelago and Jiigurru (Lizard Island group).
Rylee Smith 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.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Michael Westaway, Australian Research Council Future Fellow, Archaeology, School of Social Science, The University of Queensland
Last week, the Queensland government launched the ambitious Destination 2045 tourism plan, which aims to make the state a global leader in tourism. The plan highlights that one in six jobs in tropical north Queensland are supported by tourism.
However, earlier this year the same government tentatively withdrew support from a campaign to add Cape York to the UNESCO World Heritage List.
If the goal is to position Queensland as a leader in tourism, then linking Cape York’s landscapes to the World Heritage brand would certainly help achieve that.
Consultation is key
In June 2024, Steven Miles, Labor’s then-premier in Queensland, and Tanya Plibersek, the federal environment minister, announced they had placed seven of the cape’s national parks on Australia’s tentative World Heritage list.
In January, however, the newly elected Liberal-National government, under Premier David Crisafulli, ordered a review of the decision. The government cited concerns over a lack of sufficient consultation around the nomination.
If a lack of consultation is the main issue, there is an opportunity for the Crissafulli government to thoughtfully reopen negotiations.
Getting this step right could help conserve and encourage tourism to one of Australia’s most diverse landscapes – in line with the Destination 2045 plan.
How to get onto (and kicked off) UNESCO’s list
Cape York covers some 137,000 square kilometres. According to the 2021 census, it has a population of less than 8,000 people, including 3,678 Aboriginals and Torres Strait Islanders.
Fruit Bat Falls is a waterfall located in the Apudthama National Park (Jardine River National Park) in Cape York. Jason Clark/Flickr, CC BY-NC
Inscription to the World Heritage list doesn’t mean the entire cape would be listed – just specific sites and landscapes within it.
It’s usually the responsibility of a country’s various governments to convince UNESCO, in a nomination bid, a certain place has the necessary “outstanding universal value” and meets at least one of UNESCO’s ten selection criteria.
Sites that are physically altered or damaged after receiving World Heritage status can be de-listed, either by a state party or by UNESCO. This has happened in Oman, Germany, the United Kingdom and Georgia.
We also recently saw the Murujuga Cultural Landscape in Western Australia, with its extraordinary record of rock engravings (petroglyphs), denied World Heritage inscription. This was mainly due to the threat of ongoing damage from industrial emissions from Woodside Energy’s nearby Karratha gas plant.
World Heritage status: a risk or benefit?
A carefully considered World Heritage inscription doesn’t necessarily block industries and tourism from the listed area.
Many of the archaeological sites of the Willandra Lakes World Heritage Area in New South Wales are located on sheep stations. These stations, established in the late 19th century, have individual property plans that ensure the sites are conserved while remaining viable for agricultural activity.
Another example is the tourism seen at the extraordinary eel trap system of Budj Bim in southwest Victoria. Budj Bim is one of Australia’s most recent additions to the World Heritage list. It is also the first site to be inscribed solely for its cultural value.
The Budj Bim eel traps were engineered some 6,600 years ago, and represent one of the world’s oldest aquaculture systems.
This cultural landscape is now home to a thriving tourism program that attracts thousands of visitors each year. The World Heritage listing ensures there are enough resources for the Gunditjmara Traditional Owners running the site to improve the health of Country through cultural and environmental management.
While Queensland’s current government has cited concerns over planning restrictions, these types of concerns are typically based on perception rather than proven harm. In Queensland, they were also clearly addressed in government memos and communications.
Tasmania’s forestry sector resisted World Heritage expansion (there were four expansions between 1989–2013), yet tourism in the region remains economically valuable.
It’s unlikely the Cape York nominations would threaten the pastoral or mining industries, since most of the nominated sites are already protected as national parks.
What makes a World Heritage site?
The list of Cape York sites submitted for World Heritage consideration has some strong contenders. Quinkan Country is undoubtedly the most significant site on the list, distinguished by its diversity and richness of Aboriginal paintings and engravings.
But the list isn’t exhaustive. There are several other Aboriginal cultural landscapes in Cape York that also deserve to be considered by UNESCO. These include the giant shell mounds around Weipa, Jiigurru (Lizard Island), and the Flinders Island Group with its extraordinary rock art galleries.
Moving forward
World heritage listings in Cape York have great potential to allow Aboriginal people to care for the landscapes and create tourism infrastructure that centres Aboriginal perspectives.
Appointing Aboriginal rangers in the Flinders Island Group could help deliver a unique and sustainable cultural tourism experience, similar to that provided at the World Heritage-listed Kakadu National Park. Destination 2045 highlights the importance of developing Aboriginal ranger programs in such landscapes to boost cultural tourism and economic growth.
Inggal Odul (Denham Island part of Flinders Island Group). Source: Olivia Arnold (2023).
The Crisafulli government now has the opportunity to meaningfully engage with the Traditional Custodians of the Cape York landscapes that have been put forth. We argue that the World Heritage listing outcome could help the cape’s economic development and support its communities.
Michael Westaway receives funding from then Australian Research Council and has undertaken research with Aboriginal communities in the Kaurarag Archipelago, around Mapoon and Weipa including on the Steve Irwin Wildlife Reserve and in the Flinders Island Group adjacent to Princess Charlotte Bay.
Anna M. Kotarba-Morley receives funding from the Australian Research Council (ARC). Ania previously sat on the International Council of Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS) World Heritage Nomination Bids review panel. Ania undertakes research with Aboriginal communities including within the Kaurareg Archipelago.
Denis Rose is on the board of the not-for-profit Country Needs People, which advocates for Indigenous Protected Areas and the Indigenous Rangers Program.
Olivia Arnold has undertaken research with Aboriginal communities in the Flinders Island Group adjacent to Princess Charlotte Bay, Kaurarag Archipelago and Jiigurru (Lizard Island group).
Rylee Smith 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.
For millennia, First Nations people have shaped Australian ecosystems through the purposeful and skilful use of fire. This cultural burning is an important way for Aboriginal people to connect to and care for Country.
Under climate change, Earth is experiencing more frequent and severe bushfires. This has prompted a rethink of Western approaches to fire management, and triggered the development of cultural burning programs supported by government agencies.
At the same time, First Nations people have been calling to revitalise cultural burning as part of a generations-long pursuit of self-determination.
Our new research details the results of a Indigenous-led cultural burning program in critically endangered woodlands in New South Wales. It shows how Western science can support cultural burning to deliver benefits across cultures – as well as for nature.
What we did
Box-gum grassy woodland has been extensively cleared for agriculture, and only about 5% of its original extent remains. The woodlands are endangered in NSW and critically endangered across eastern Australia.
They feature diverse eucalypt trees, sparse shrubs and native tussock grasses, and support native fauna including the critically endangered regent honeyeater and swift parrot.
Our project brought together First Nations communities, ecologists from the Australian National University and officers from Local Land Services. It also involved the Rural Fire Service.
Cultural burns are relatively cool, slow fires. They trickle through the landscape, enabling animals to escape the flames. They promote the germination of plants, including culturally important food and medicine plants, among other benefits.
Cultural burns are important to First Nations people for a variety of cultural and social reasons. The practice is part of a broader suite of inherited cultural responsibilities shared through generations.
Our project involved cultural burns in the winter and spring of 2023. Wiradjuri people burned their Country around Young and Wagga Wagga, and Ngunnawal people burned their Country near Yass.
The burns took place on travelling stock reserves – remnant patches of vegetation historically used to move cattle from paddock to market. These reserves are very important for Aboriginal people because they often trace Songlines and Dreaming tracks. They are also important for farmers as places to graze cattle during drought.
Alongside the cultural burning program, ANU research ecologists monitored how the woodlands responded to the burns. They did this by surveying plants, soils and biomass before and about eight months after the burns, as well as in unburnt areas.
What we found
We measured plant responses by counting the number of plant individuals and recording germination.
Many native plant species germinated after the burn. They included native peas – one an endangered species, the small scurf pea, which germinated exclusively after the burns.
Germination was greater in burned than unburned sites, including for sensitive species that commonly respond well to fire such as native glycine (a herb) and lomandra grasses.
Importantly, the condition of a site before the burn affected how well plants responded. Condition refers to factors such as the diversity of native plants (including sensitive species) and the presence of weeds.
After the burn, native plants were more abundant on sites with a better starting condition, than on those in poor condition. This highlights the importance of improving the health of poor-condition areas after burns.
The type of appropriate management will depend on the site, but may include weed control and planting or seeding native species. More monitoring will also help quantify longer term responses after burning.
Investing in community and nature
Indigenous community members led the burns on their Country and were represented by women and men of multiple generations. They were paid for their work and offered fire-safety training and personal protective equipment.
The burns were often community events – days of connection and sharing knowledge within communities, and between cultures. This fostered opportunities for “two-way learning” and “two-eyed seeing” – ways of respectfully bringing together Indigenous and Western knowledge.
Our project shows how cross-cultural partnerships can be central to conserving and restoring Australia’s unique and highly diverse ecosystems, during a period of environmental change. But for this to happen, cultural burning must be better integrated into mainstream land management.
This is especially needed in some parts of southern Australia, where government-funded programs have been less resourced than in parts of northern and Central Australia.
Government agencies and institutions can support Indigenous land stewardship in various ways.
These include:
designing projects with Indigenous people from the outset, and being directed by community aspirations which supports self-determination
forming meaningful cross-cultural partnerships across agencies to navigate complex bureaucratic processes
providing Indigenous people with resources and land access to manage Country, including funding for labour, training and equipment. Provisions for sufficient resources must be made from the beginning, in grant applications
protecting and acknowledging the rights of Indigenous people to their cultural heritage, such as traditional knowledge, through formal protection agreements.
Elle Bowd receives funding from the NSW Government, the ACT Government, the ACT government, the Local Land Services, and the Australian Research Council.
David Lindenmayer receives funding from the NSW Government, the ACT Government, the 4AM Foundation, NSW Local Land Services, and the Australian Research Council. He is a Councillor with the Biodiversity Council and a Member of Birds Australia.
Geoff Cary receives funding from the Australian Research Council and the Bushfire Research Centre of Excellence funded by ANU and Optus, and previously received funding from Future Ready Regions EDIS Development, Australian Research Council, ACT Government, Australian Centre for International Agricultural Research (ACIAR), Bushfire and Natural Hazards CRC, National Health and Medical Research Council, Australian Greenhouse Office/Department of Climate Change Greenhouse Action in Regional Australia funding schemes, Desert Knowledge CRC, NSW Department of Environment & Conservation, Tasmanian Government and US National Science Foundation.
Braithan Bell-Garner and Dean Freeman 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.
In The Spare Room, Judy Davis lights up the stage with a singularly vivid performance.
Adapted by Eamon Flack from Helen Garner’s 2008 novel of the same name, Davis plays sharp-tongued Helen (or Hel) to the irrational Nicola (Elizabeth Alexander), who visits seeking alternative treatments for her cancer-ridden body.
But unfortunately, the production does not match Davis’ star performance.
A shaky reality
Set and costume, by Mel Page, echo Garner tropes: bed linen, windows, back door onto shared backyard with family as neighbours, curtains, lounge, kitchen, vodka, music, bicycle and miniature pink backpack.
But I’m increasingly unable to suspend belief in stage designs whose purpose is to mimic reality. A curtain is used inconsistently to indicate a change of space. The kitchen table is appropriated for medical professionals’ desks and magician’s table without any change of lighting or further demarcation of space and time.
Kitchens and cooking are important to Garner’s domestic settings. There’s a brief smashing of apricot kernels. Bananas, licorice bullets and lemonade get a mention. But Hel’s chopping of a limp celery comes out of nowhere, and means very little.
Garner’s writing captures the minutiae of the home. This is echoed on stage. Brett Boardman/Belvoir
If the adaptation is going to use food, meal preparation and cooking, then use it substantially as a motif.
For time changes, Hel yells out the day. The pace is speedy, with Davis firing off dialogue and scampering across stage. We get no sense of the dragging time that Hel experiences as carer.
The same actors playing multiple characters without much change of physical appearance lacks credulity. Nicola, in particular, is presented as a cliché of an older, suburban woman – not Garner’s wealthy bohemian. Nicola is based on Jenya Osborne – a friend of Garner and her third husband, Murray Bail, who described Osborne as “alternative virtually everything”.
Garner is the queen of sustained metaphor. In the novel, a broken mirror and a creature scuttling in dried leaves are early images of death.
In Flack’s adaptation, the mirror is only spoken of, accompanied by a strum across the cello by Anthea Cottee (music composed by Steve Francis).
A live cello, played by Anthea Cottee, accompanies the play. Brett Boardman/Belvoir
There may have been a flourish of flamenco on the cello as Hel prances in imitation of the liveliness of her granddaughter, Bess (who is only referred to once), but it is too unimpactful to recall.
At one point, Hel plays on a toy piano accompanying the cello, a comedic reference to Garner’s most acclaimed novel The Children’s Bach (1984).
On death and dying
The clearest image of dying and death is central in the play: a magician’s show that Hel has to review. “The most beautiful things happen secretly and privately”, the magician (Alan Dukes) says, as he whisks away then recovers various objects.
A failure of both Garner’s book and the stage adaptation is that Hel complains of exhaustion after only a few weeks caring for Nicola. But many people spend years caring for a sick loved one, giving up another possible trajectory of their own lives.
Hel complains of exhaustion after only a few weeks caring for Nicola. Brett Boardman/Belvoir
The balance is wrong, too, between the humanity of Hel and Nicola: the audience guffawed at Hel’s exasperated wit and Nicola’s investment in fraudulent therapies. This, perhaps, is a feature of Garner’s work. While Garner is self-critical in her writing, she also consistently exposes others.
Bail is critical of Garner’s use of their friend’s life as fodder for a novel. He writes:
[Osbourne] was all kindness and consideration, which was rewarded as she was dying by being portrayed in [Garner’s book], where her harmless foolishness was pitied and scorned.
In Garner’s novel, Nicola and Hel “[dissect] with cheerful meanness the latest escapades” of her ex-husband. But in the play, Hel recounts her acts of revenge against him in their Sydney flat, drawing on Garner’s third diary, How to End a Story: Diaries 1995–1998, published in 2021. Bail is not named in either play or novel, but fans of Garner’s work know of whom she speaks.
The play is part monologue by Davis. Monologues and choruses effectively give oversight and insight to the narrative, but here it only further spotlights Hel’s story, not Nicola’s who is the one dying in pain.
With some details in the dialogue of Nicola’s dying processes – and with her plan to take an entourage for residency in an expensive hotel – Hel then “handed her over”.
As the play opens with a reference to the life-filled antics of Hel’s granddaughter, we know that the granddaughter, now assumed to be recovered from a cold, can be handed over to her. It is a rational ending, but lacking vitality.
The Spare Room is at Belvoir, Sydney, until July 13.
Moya Costello 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.
New research has found that while Australians generally support strong punishments, people living in the bush are significantly more likely than city dwellers to want to punish more harshly those who break the law.
It means Australians living in rural and regional areas are more likely to support tougher penalties for crime than those in the cities.
However, it’s not for the reasons you might expect.
So, what drives this divide?
In short: fear of crime and a lack of confidence in the justice system.
Our research, published today in the Journal of Rural Studies, surveyed a representative sample of Australians to better understand their views on punishment and what shaped their views.
We found city residents with tough attitudes toward crime tend to focus on the individual and personal blame, thinking offenders commit crime due to internal attributes (such as having “a poor moral compass”). They tended to see lawbreakers as lacking the capacity to redeem themselves.
But in rural areas, people are more likely to focus on what’s happening around them. Specifically, we found support for tougher penalties for crime was related to wider concerns about rising crime rates and a general lack of confidence in the criminal justice system.
Consider the role of ‘rurality’
To understand these differences, we thought about how living in rural areas may shape punitive attitudes.
Contrary to popular belief, crimes occur at higher rates in many rural communities than in some urban areas.
Crime may also be more visible and more confronting because towns are smaller. Personal relationships are denser, meaning people often know the victims or the offenders.
This closeness creates a stronger emotional response and a heightened sense of risk at the local level – even if the actual chances of being victimised are statistically low.
There’s also the issue of access to the criminal justice system. Courts may sit infrequently, meaning it can take a long time to get a case heard in court. In some cases, victims and offenders are forced to share courtroom space due to limited facilities.
Police stations might not be staffed around the clock.
Add to this long wait times for justice, and it’s no wonder rural Australians may feel the system isn’t working for them.
The power of perception
It’s important to understand perception doesn’t always match reality.
Urban areas often have more total crime, but rural areas may have higher rates of certain offences, especially violent ones.
But what really matters in shaping public opinion is not necessarily the total numbers, but how close, immediate and personal crime feels.
Other research has found people who feel crime is psychologically “close” – meaning, that’s likely to happen to them or someone they know – are much more worried about it.
That worry can translate into calls for tougher sentencing, stricter laws, and less tolerance for rehabilitation.
This fear is made worse by a lack of confidence in the justice system. Many rural residents feel the system is too slow, too distant, or simply doesn’t understand local issues.
When people feel justice won’t be done, they’re more likely to demand punishment that feels immediate and severe.
Why it matters
These findings are more than just a snapshot of attitudes; they have real implications for public policy.
Politicians often draw on public opinion when shaping criminal justice policies.
If rural voters are more likely to support tough-on-crime platforms, that can influence laws that affect the whole country.
But one-size-fits-all solutions won’t work.
The factors shaping crime perceptions in Brisbane or Sydney are very different from those in Longreach or Wagga Wagga.
To build trust and improve safety, we need justice strategies that take into account local realities, especially in rural areas.
This means investing in better access to police and courts, improving communication between justice systems and rural communities, and helping the public understand what crime is really happening and what’s not.
Australians in rural areas aren’t more punitive because they’re harsher people. Our research shows they are more worried, feel less supported, and have less confidence in the system designed to protect them.
Understanding this difference is key to building smarter, fairer justice policies because when people feel seen, heard, and safe, they’re less likely to demand punishment to solve feelings of insecurity and more likely to support holistic solutions.
What’s needed now
Rural communities need tailored strategies that improve access to justice, rebuild trust, and respond to their unique experiences of crime.
That means policymakers need to go beyond reactive, headline-driven responses.
Rural justice strategies should include mobile court services, better resourcing for regional police and victim support, and culturally appropriate services for Indigenous communities.
Community education campaigns can also help close the gap between crime perception and reality.
Importantly, involving local voices in justice reform, through consultation and community partnerships, can help rebuild trust and ensure policies reflect rural realities, not just urban assumptions.
As political debate over law and order grows, especially in rural communities, leaders must address the divide in how city and country Australians view crime and punishment.
Kyle Mulrooney is a Senior Lecturer in Criminology and co-director of the Centre for Rural Criminology at the University of New England.
Caitlin Davey and Sue Watt 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.
Speculation is swirling around the future of the A$368 billion AUKUS agreement, following Washington’s decision to review the nuclear submarine deal to ensure it meets President Donald Trump’s “America first” agenda.
Prime Minister Anthony Albanese was planning to use talks with Trump at the G7 to demand the US continue to back the deal – but the meeting has been cancelled.
With the Pentagon taking another look at AUKUS, we ask five experts whether the government should rethink Australia’s own commitment to the pact.
Jennifer Parker
Expert Associate, National Security College, Australian National University
Absolutely not. Another review would consume time and capacity better spent delivering AUKUS on its tight timelines.
To understand why, we must put the decision in context.
The leaked details of the US Department of Defense review does not alter the position of any of the three AUKUS partners. Much of the commentary has missed the broader picture: Washington is undertaking its regular review of defence strategy.
It makes sense the Pentagon would also assess AUKUS – a central element of its Indo-Pacific posture.
While some have fixated on Colby’s supposed scepticism, the reality is different. In March, Colby told the US Senate Armed Services Committee the US should do everything in its power to make AUKUS work.
Why now? Because the strategy review is being accelerated under the new administration. As for the leak, it is plausible it was designed to apply pressure to Australia over its defence spending commitments.
The more important question is: what is the likely outcome? While nothing is certain, AUKUS enjoys strong bipartisan support in the US, as it does in Australia. Secretary of State Marco Rubio has called it a “blueprint” for cooperation, echoed by other senior officials.
Crucially, the real driver of this so-called “America First” review is what the US gets out of AUKUS. The answer is quite a lot. It secures access to Southeast and Northeast Asia from a location beyond the range of most Chinese missiles, adds a fourth maintenance site for Virginia-class submarines, and delivers an ally with an independent nuclear-powered submarine industrial base.
Beyond AUKUS, Australia has expanded its support for Marine and bomber rotations and other posture initiatives. Australia is central to US strategy in the Indo-Pacific. They need us as much as we need them. All signs point to a constructive outcome from this short, sharp review.
While AUKUS carries risks and Australia must remain clear-eyed, alarmism is unhelpful. Much of the public debate has taken that tone. Nothing fundamental has changed since the optimal pathway was announced in 2023. The risks we face now were known then.
There is no basis for an Australian review at this point. It would only distract from delivering this ambitious program. If core assumptions materially change, then a review may be warranted. But until then, such talk is a distraction.
Albert Palazzo
Adjunct Professor in the School of Humanities and Social Sciences at UNSW Canberra, UNSW Sydney
The AUKUS review should be welcomed by all Australians as an opportunity for the Albanese government to scrap the agreement and wean itself off US dependency.
The review is a chance for our political leaders to exercise their most important responsibility: asserting the nation’s sovereignty and equipping Australia to provide for its national security on its own.
Since AUKUS already contains clauses the US could use to cancel the pact, a termination now would benefit Australia. It would save the nation huge sums of money, and force the government to formulate a more useful and appropriate security policy.
Elbridge Colby has previously questioned the logic of “giving away” America’s “crown jewels”, namely its nuclear-powered submarines, and argued the US will need all its boats against China.
Elbridge Colby is in charge of the AUKUS review.
More alarmingly, in his book The Strategy of Denial, Colby concludes the ideal way for the US to deny China regional hegemony is to use its allies to minimise its own “risks, commitment and expense”. Additionally, he says the US needs to retain the opportunity to walk away from a China conflict if that proves to be in America’s best interest.
Colby’s track record suggests he will recommend Australia make a larger military contribution to the alliance — as his boss Pete Hegseth demanded at the Shangri-La Dialogue. This is even as the US reserves its right to desert us at a time of its own choosing, as the United Kingdom did during the second world war with the Singapore Strategy.
At one time, the existing defence policy of reliance on the US made a degree of sense. But that is no longer the case. Instead, Australia’s leaders have an opportunity to recalibrate defence policy from one of dependency to one of self-defence.
As I outline in my forthcoming book, The Big Fix, Australia should adopt the philosophy of “strategic defensive”. This is a method of waging war in which the defender only needs to prevent an aggressor from achieving its objectives.
This would eliminate the risks and enormous cost of AUKUS while securing the nation’s future. A strategic defensive approach is well within Australia’s capabilities to implement on its own.
While it would be an ironic act of dependency if the US was to save Australia from itself by either cancelling AUKUS or by making it too unpalatable to swallow, the chance to reconsider should not be missed.
AUKUS remains an affront to Australian sovereignty.
Ian Langford
Executive Director, Security & Defence PLuS and Professor, UNSW Sydney
Australia should not walk away from AUKUS in light of the Pentagon’s newly announced review. However, it should seize the moment to increase defence spending to meet short-term challenges not addressed by the submarine deal.
Despite the noise, AUKUS remains Australia’s most straightforward path to acquiring nuclear-powered submarines, deepening strategic interoperability with the United States and United Kingdom, and embedding itself in the advanced defence technology ecosystems of its closest allies.
But clinging to AUKUS without confronting the deeper risks it now exposes would be a strategic mistake. From an Australian perspective, the submarine pathway is on a slow fuse: first deliveries are not expected until the early 2030s.
Meanwhile, the risk of major power conflict in the Indo-Pacific is accelerating, with a potential flashpoint involving China and the US as early as 2027. Naval brinkmanship in the Taiwan Strait and the South and East China Seas is already routine.
Submarines that arrive too late do little to shape the strategic balance in the next five years. Canberra must therefore confront a hard truth: AUKUS may enhance Australia’s deterrence posture in the 2030s, but it does little to prepare the ADF for a near-term fight.
That fight, should it come, will demand capabilities the ADF currently lacks in sufficient quantity: long-range missiles, deployable air defence, survivable command and control, and more surface combatants.
Yet under current spending plans, Australia is trying to fund both the AUKUS build and short-term deterrence within a constrained budget. It will not work. Even after recent increases, defence spending remains around 2% of GDP. This is well below the level needed to fund both long-term deterrence and immediate readiness.
Without a step change – closer to 2.5–3% of GDP – or a major reprioritisation of big-ticket programs, the ADF faces a dangerous capability gap through the second half of this decade.
Australia should hold firm on AUKUS. The strategic upside is real, and the alliance commitments it reinforces are indispensable. But we should not pretend it is cost-free.
Unless the defence budget is significantly expanded, AUKUS risks hollowing out the rest of the Defence Force. The result would be a future submarine fleet paired with an underpowered ADF, unready to meet the threats of today.
In reaffirming AUKUS, Australia must confront the complex reality that it won’t address the threats of this decade, and should plan accordingly.
Maria Rost Rublee
Professor, International Relations Social and Political Sciences, The University of Melbourne
Let’s be honest – Australia is not going to withdraw from AUKUS.
The United States is our most important military and diplomatic partner; in the words of the 2024 National Defence Strategy, “our alliance with the US remains fundamental to Australia’s national security”.
Unilaterally extracting ourselves from AUKUS would significantly damage our relationship with the US. Given the bipartisan and public support for the alliance within Australia, it simply won’t happen.
As we navigate the complexities of AUKUS under Trump 2.0, we should remember that as a defence industrial agreement, AUKUS creates numerous benefits for Australia. In both Pillar I (nuclear submarines) and Pillar II (advanced defence capabilities), Australia is developing deep partnerships, collaboration and even integration with both the US and the UK in shipbuilding, advanced technology, and stronger supply chains.
In addition, a rarely discussed benefit of AUKUS is the total life-cycle climate impacts, given nuclear submarines are superior to diesel alternatives. Diesel is a non-renewable energy source with significant global warming potential, while nuclear power is generally acknowledged to be low-carbon.
However, AUKUS does offer very significant risks for Australia. Flexibility is baked into the arrangement for the three partner nations – leading to the very situation we are in today. There are significant concerns Washington may not sell nuclear Virginia-class submarines to Australia in the 2030s, as agreed.
We have known for years the US is not producing enough nuclear attack submarines for its own domestic use, but we seem to have hoped this would change or the US would sell us the subs anyway.
The current US review of AUKUS makes it clear Australia needs to think seriously about other options for submarines. Without the Virginia-class, we will be without any subs at all, at least until the SSN-AUKUS submarines are delivered by the mid-2040s.
Our current ageing Collins-class subs, already beset with operational problems, will not be fit for purpose much past mid-2030. At this point, the most likely viable option is off-the-shelf conventional submarines from Japan or South Korea.
The fact is, while Australia is unlikely to withdraw from AUKUS, the US may force the issue by refusing to sell us its nuclear-powered submarines. Refusing to acknowledge this does not change the risks.
President Donald Trumps wants US allies to lift their defence spending. Rawpixel/Shutterstock
David Andrews
Senior Manager, Policy & Engagement, Australian National University
I want AUKUS to succeed. It offers a unique opportunity to substantially upgrade Australia’s maritime capabilities with access to world-leading submarine technology and a suite of advanced and emerging technologies.
However, we cannot realistically pursue “AUKUS at any cost”. There must be an upper limit to how much time, effort and resources are committed before the costs – financial, political and strategic – outweigh the potential long-term benefits.
Of course, the government must not be hasty. Any decision should wait until the completion of the US review. Likewise, AUKUS should not be abandoned merely because it is being reviewed.
Reviews are not inherently negative processes. A review after four years of a project of this size and significance is not a particularly surprising development. As seen in the UK, reviews can refocus efforts and commit greater resources, if needed.
However, it doesn’t look like that’s what the US review is setting out to do. Rather, it’s focused on ensuring AUKUS is aligned with the America First agenda. That indicates an altogether different set of considerations.
People often describe Trump as a “dealmaker” or “transactional”, but these are misleading euphemisms. This review, and recent language from senior US officials, gives the impression of a shakedown – of coercion, not partnership.
The need to “win” and extract money from alliances is antithetical to their purpose. It misunderstands their nature and the fundamental importance of trust between partners. AUKUS is not an ATM.
Past behaviour suggests no deal Trump makes will last without further demands being imposed. No amount of money is likely to be satisfactory. Even if Australia’s defence spending was lifted to 3.5% of GDP, the question would be “why isn’t it 5%?” For AUKUS, there is no such thing as an offer he cannot refuse.
I do not say this lightly, but if the outcome of this process is a series of gratuitous or untenable demands by the US, the Albanese government should strongly consider walking away from AUKUS.
The consequences would be significant, so the threshold of such a decision would need to be similarly calibrated. But no single project should be put above the integrity of our wider defence enterprise and the sovereign decision-making of our government.
David Andrews has not personally received funding from any relevant external bodies, but he has previously worked on projects funded by the Australian Departments of Foreign Affairs and Trade, Home Affairs, and Defence. David is a member of the Australian Labor Party and Australian Institute of International Affairs, and previously worked for the Australian Department of Defence.
Albert Palazzo is not a member of a political party but does occasional volunteer work for The Greens. In 2019, he retired from the Department of Defence. He was the long-serving Director of War Studies for the Australian Army.
Ian Langford is affiliated with Security & Defence PLuS, a collaboration between the University of New South Wales, Arizona State University and Kings College, London.
Maria Rost Rublee has received grant funding from the Australian Department of Defence and the US Institute of Peace. She is affiliated with Women in International Security-Australia and Women in Nuclear-Australia.
Jennifer Parker 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.
There’s a certain feeling I get in the pit of my stomach when I’m waiting for an important call to come through. You know the type – maybe a call from your boss, a potential new employer or news of a loved one who’s due to give birth.
In these situations, I usually stare at my phone, willing it to ring. I make sure – over and again – it’s not on silent or “do not disturb” mode. When the screen is out of my sight, I imagine I can hear the familiar ringtone.
Then it pops up – the missed call notification. But the phone never rang. What happened?
How do mobile calls work?
When making a mobile call using 4G or 5G networks, the caller dials a number and their network operator (Telstra or OneNZ, for example) routes the request to the recipient’s device.
For this to work, both phones must be registered with an IP Multimedia Subsystem – or IMS – which automatically happens when you turn on your phone. IMS is the system that allows the combination of voice calls, messages and video communications.
Both phones must also be connected to a 4G or 5G cell phone tower. The caller’s network sends an invite to the recipient’s device, which will then start to ring.
This process is usually very fast. But as generations of cellular networks have evolved (remember 3G?), becoming faster and with greater capacity, they have also become more complex, with new potential points of failure.
From phone failures to ‘dead zones’
Mobile phones use Voice over LTE (VoLTE) for 4G networks or Voice over New Radio (VoNR) for 5G. These are technologies that enable voice calls over those two types of networks and they use the above mentioned IMS.
In some countries such as New Zealand, if either of these aren’t enabled or supported on your device (some phones have VoLTE disabled by default), it may attempt to fall back to the 3G network, which was switched off in Australia in 2024 and is currently being phased out in New Zealand.
If this fallback fails or is delayed, the recipient’s phone may not ring or may go straight to voicemail.
Another possibility is that your phone may have failed to register with the IMS network. If this happens – due to something like a software glitch, SIM issue, or network problem – a phone won’t receive the call signal and won’t ring.
Then there are handover issues. Each cell phone tower covers a particular area, and if you are moving, your call will be handed over to the tower that provides the best coverage. Sometimes your phone uses 5G for data but 4G for voice; if the handover between 5G and 4G is slow or fails, the call might not ring. If 5G is used for both data and voice, VoNR is used, which is still not widely supported and may fail.
Mobile apps introduce other potential problems. For example, on Android, aggressive battery-saving features can restrict background processes, including the phone app, preventing it from responding to incoming calls. Third-party apps such as call blockers, antivirus tools, or even messaging apps can also interfere with call notifications.
Finally, if your phone is in an area with poor reception, it may not receive the call signal in time to ring. These so-called “dead zones” are more common than telcos would like to admit. I live at the end of a long driveway in a well-covered suburb of Auckland in New Zealand. But, depending on where I am in the house, I still experience dead zones and often the WiFi-enabled phone apps will more reliably cause the phone to ring.
Battery-saving features on phones can restrict background processes, including the phone app, preventing it from responding to incoming calls. ymgerman/Shutterstock
What can I do to fix it?
If your phone frequently doesn’t ring on 4G or 5G there are a few things you can do:
make sure VolTE/VoNR is enabled in your network settings
restart your phone and toggle airplane mode to refresh network registration
check battery optimisation settings and exclude the phone app you are using
contact your carrier to confirm VoLTE/VoNR support and provisioning.
But ultimately, sometimes a call will just fail – and there’s very little an everyday person can do about it. Which yes, is annoying. But it also means you have a failsafe, expert-approved excuse for missing a call from your boss.
Jairo Gutierrez 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.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Melinda Jackson, Associate Professor at Turner Institute for Brain and Mental Health, School of Psychological Sciences, Monash University
If you’ve been on social media lately – perhaps scrolling in the middle of the night, when you know you shouldn’t but you just can’t sleep – you might have seen those videos promoting a get-to-sleep technique called “cognitive shuffling”.
The idea, proponents say, is to engage your mind with random ideas and images via a special formula:
pick a random word (such as “cake”)
focus on the first letter of the word (in this case, C) and list a bunch of words starting with that letter: cat, carrot, calendar and so on
visualise each word as you go along
when you feel ready, move onto the next letter (A) and repeat the process
continue with each letter of the original word (so, in this case, K and then E) until you feel ready to switch to a new word or until you drift off to sleep.
It’s popular on Instagram and TikTok, but does “cognitive shuffling” have any basis in science?
Where did this idea come from?
The cognitive shuffling technique was made famous by Canada-based researcher Luc P. Beaudoin more than a decade ago, when he published a paper about how what he called “serial diverse imagining” could help with sleep.
One of Beaudoin’s hypothetical examples involved a woman thinking of the word “blanket”, then thinking bicycle (and imagining a bicycle), buying (imagining buying shoes), banana (visualising a banana tree) and so on.
Soon, Beaudoin writes, she moves onto the letter L, thinking about her friend Larry, the word “like” (imagining her son hugging his dog). She soon transitions to the letter A, thinking of the word “Amsterdam”:
and she might very vaguely imagine the large hand of a sailor gesturing for another order of fries in an Amsterdam pub while a rancid accordion plays in the background.
a neutral or pleasant target and frequently [switch] to unrelated targets (normally every 5-15 seconds).
Don’t try to relate one word with another or find a link between the words; resist the mind’s natural tendency toward sense-making.
While the research into this technique is still in its infancy, the idea is grounded in science. That’s because we know from other research good sleepers tend to have different kinds of thoughts in bed to bad sleepers.
People with insomnia are more focused on worries, problems, or noises in the environment, and are often preoccupied with not sleeping.
Good sleepers typically have dream-like, hallucinatory, less ordered thoughts before nodding off. fran_kie/Shutterstock
Sorting the pro-somnolent wheat from the insomnolent chaff
Cognitive shuffling attempts to mimic the thinking patterns of good sleepers by simulating the dream-like and random thought patterns they generally have before drifting off to sleep.
In particular, Beaudoin’s research describes two types of sleep-related thoughts: insomnolent (or anti-sleep) and pro-somnolent (sleep-promoting) thoughts.
Insomnolent thoughts include things such as worrying, planning, rehearsing, and ruminating on perceived problems or failings.
Pro-somnolent thoughts on the other hand involve thoughts that can help you fall asleep, such as dream-like imagery or having a calm, relaxed state of mind.
Cognitive shuffling aims to distract from or interfere with insomnolent thought. It offers a calm, neutral path for your racing mind, and can reduce the stress associated with not sleeping.
Cognitive shuffling also helps tell your brain you are ready for sleep.
In fact, the process of “shuffling” between different thoughts is similar to the way your brain naturally drifts off to sleep. During the transition to sleep, brain activity slows. Your brain starts to generate disconnected images and fleeting scenes, known as hypnagogic hallucinations, without a conscious effort to make sense of them.
By mimicking these scattered, disconnected, and random thought patterns, cognitive shuffling may help you transition from wakefulness to sleep.
And the preliminary research into this is promising. Beaudoin and his team have foundserial diverse imagining helps to lower arousal before sleep, improve sleep quality and reduce the effort involved in falling asleep.
However, with only a small number of research studies, more work is needed here.
It didn’t work. Now what?
As with every new strategy, however, practise makes perfect. Don’t be disheartened if you don’t see an improvement straight away; these things take time.
Stay consistent and be kind to yourself.
And what works for some won’t work for others. Different people benefit from different types of strategies depending on how they relate to and experience stress or stressful thoughts.
Other strategies to help create the right conditions for sleep include:
keeping a consistent pre-bedtime routine, so your brain can wind down
writing down worries or to-do lists earlier in the day so you don’t think about them at bedtime.
If, despite all your best efforts, night time thoughts continue to impact your sleep or overall wellbeing, consider seeking professional help from your doctor or a trained sleep specialist.
Melinda Jackson has received funding from the Medical Research Future Fund, the National Health and Medical Research Council (NHMRC), Aged Care Research & Industry Innovation Australia (ARIIA) and Dementia Australia. She a board member of the Australasian Sleep Association.
Eleni Kavaliotis has previously received funding from an Australian government Research Training Program (RTP) scholarship. She is a member of the Australasian Sleep Association’s Insomnia and Sleep Health Council.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Melinda Jackson, Associate Professor at Turner Institute for Brain and Mental Health, School of Psychological Sciences, Monash University
If you’ve been on social media lately – perhaps scrolling in the middle of the night, when you know you shouldn’t but you just can’t sleep – you might have seen those videos promoting a get-to-sleep technique called “cognitive shuffling”.
The idea, proponents say, is to engage your mind with random ideas and images via a special formula:
pick a random word (such as “cake”)
focus on the first letter of the word (in this case, C) and list a bunch of words starting with that letter: cat, carrot, calendar and so on
visualise each word as you go along
when you feel ready, move onto the next letter (A) and repeat the process
continue with each letter of the original word (so, in this case, K and then E) until you feel ready to switch to a new word or until you drift off to sleep.
It’s popular on Instagram and TikTok, but does “cognitive shuffling” have any basis in science?
Where did this idea come from?
The cognitive shuffling technique was made famous by Canada-based researcher Luc P. Beaudoin more than a decade ago, when he published a paper about how what he called “serial diverse imagining” could help with sleep.
One of Beaudoin’s hypothetical examples involved a woman thinking of the word “blanket”, then thinking bicycle (and imagining a bicycle), buying (imagining buying shoes), banana (visualising a banana tree) and so on.
Soon, Beaudoin writes, she moves onto the letter L, thinking about her friend Larry, the word “like” (imagining her son hugging his dog). She soon transitions to the letter A, thinking of the word “Amsterdam”:
and she might very vaguely imagine the large hand of a sailor gesturing for another order of fries in an Amsterdam pub while a rancid accordion plays in the background.
a neutral or pleasant target and frequently [switch] to unrelated targets (normally every 5-15 seconds).
Don’t try to relate one word with another or find a link between the words; resist the mind’s natural tendency toward sense-making.
While the research into this technique is still in its infancy, the idea is grounded in science. That’s because we know from other research good sleepers tend to have different kinds of thoughts in bed to bad sleepers.
People with insomnia are more focused on worries, problems, or noises in the environment, and are often preoccupied with not sleeping.
Good sleepers typically have dream-like, hallucinatory, less ordered thoughts before nodding off. fran_kie/Shutterstock
Sorting the pro-somnolent wheat from the insomnolent chaff
Cognitive shuffling attempts to mimic the thinking patterns of good sleepers by simulating the dream-like and random thought patterns they generally have before drifting off to sleep.
In particular, Beaudoin’s research describes two types of sleep-related thoughts: insomnolent (or anti-sleep) and pro-somnolent (sleep-promoting) thoughts.
Insomnolent thoughts include things such as worrying, planning, rehearsing, and ruminating on perceived problems or failings.
Pro-somnolent thoughts on the other hand involve thoughts that can help you fall asleep, such as dream-like imagery or having a calm, relaxed state of mind.
Cognitive shuffling aims to distract from or interfere with insomnolent thought. It offers a calm, neutral path for your racing mind, and can reduce the stress associated with not sleeping.
Cognitive shuffling also helps tell your brain you are ready for sleep.
In fact, the process of “shuffling” between different thoughts is similar to the way your brain naturally drifts off to sleep. During the transition to sleep, brain activity slows. Your brain starts to generate disconnected images and fleeting scenes, known as hypnagogic hallucinations, without a conscious effort to make sense of them.
By mimicking these scattered, disconnected, and random thought patterns, cognitive shuffling may help you transition from wakefulness to sleep.
And the preliminary research into this is promising. Beaudoin and his team have foundserial diverse imagining helps to lower arousal before sleep, improve sleep quality and reduce the effort involved in falling asleep.
However, with only a small number of research studies, more work is needed here.
It didn’t work. Now what?
As with every new strategy, however, practise makes perfect. Don’t be disheartened if you don’t see an improvement straight away; these things take time.
Stay consistent and be kind to yourself.
And what works for some won’t work for others. Different people benefit from different types of strategies depending on how they relate to and experience stress or stressful thoughts.
Other strategies to help create the right conditions for sleep include:
keeping a consistent pre-bedtime routine, so your brain can wind down
writing down worries or to-do lists earlier in the day so you don’t think about them at bedtime.
If, despite all your best efforts, night time thoughts continue to impact your sleep or overall wellbeing, consider seeking professional help from your doctor or a trained sleep specialist.
Melinda Jackson has received funding from the Medical Research Future Fund, the National Health and Medical Research Council (NHMRC), Aged Care Research & Industry Innovation Australia (ARIIA) and Dementia Australia. She a board member of the Australasian Sleep Association.
Eleni Kavaliotis has previously received funding from an Australian government Research Training Program (RTP) scholarship. She is a member of the Australasian Sleep Association’s Insomnia and Sleep Health Council.
As consumption of traditional news continues to fall, audiences are turning to social media personalities and influencers for their information. These figures are increasingly shaping public debates.
But Australian news audiences are sceptical. More Australians believe social media influencers are a major misinformation threat than other sources, according to new research.
The Digital News Report: Australia 2025, released today, also reveals general news avoidance remains high, with 69% of people saying they try not to engage with it. This is particularly the case among women, young people and those in regional areas.
So if people don’t want to engage with traditional news, but are suspicious of influencers, how can we ensure they get reliable information when they need it? There are some solutions.
Suspicious of influencers
The Digital News Report: Australia is part of a global annual survey of digital news consumption in 48 countries, commissioned by the Reuters Institute for the Study of Journalism at the University of Oxford.
The survey was conducted by YouGov in January and February 2025. The data are weighted for age, gender and region. Education and political quotas were also applied.
For the 11th iteration of this study in Australia, we surveyed 2,006 online Australian adults. We asked people about sources and platforms they believe to be major misinformation threats.
More than half of participants said online influencers/personalities are the major risk (57%), followed by activists (51%), foreign governments (49%), Australian political actors (48%), and the news media (43%).
This is in stark contrast to the United States, where national politicians are seen as posing the biggest threat of misleading information (57%) and is ten percentage points higher than the global average of 42 countries in the survey (47%).
Navigating truth online
The report also finds Australians continue to be the most concerned about what is real or fake online, with 74% saying they are worried about it.
This is especially true on social media, where Australians see Facebook (59%) and TikTok (57%) as the two platforms that are the biggest threat of spreading misinformation.
Given the proportion of people using social media as their main source of news has increased (26%, up eight percentage points since 2016) and TikTok is the fastest growing social media platform for news (14%, up 13 percentage points since 2020), concern about misinformation will likely remain an issue in Australia.
This problem is not necessarily with the platform itself, but who audiences pay attention to when they are on it.
On TikTok, Australians are more likely to turn to information shared by influencers, particularly younger audiences.
Less or more intervention?
Deciding what is true or fake online is a complex issue. This was highlighted during the political debate over the federal government’s controversial Combatting Misinformation and Disinformation Bill, which was eventually withdrawn late last year.
Much hinged on questions around who gets to decide what the truth is, and who might be responsible for tackling it. Is it the job of digital platforms to remove harmful and misleading content? Or do audiences need more media literacy education? Or both?
As debate over how to reduce harm while balancing free speech continues, we asked people about the removal of harmful and offensive social media content.
One third (33%) say social media and video networks like TikTok and YouTube are not removing enough harmful or offensive content.
Fewer people (21%) think platforms are removing too much.
This indicates Australians want more action from social media companies.
Boosting media literacy
The data also tell us improving news literacy across the community may be key to tackling the problem.
We asked people what they do when they come across suspicious information. Thirty-nine percent said they fact-check using trusted news sources, official websites and search engines.
But there were important differences in fact-checking behaviours between those who had received some kind of news literacy education and those who had not.
People who had received training about how the news works were much more likely to use a reputable news source or go to an official website to verify information.
However, few people have had such education, with only 24% of those surveyed saying they had received some.
The data show not only are people with news literacy education more likely to fact-check, they also avoid news less, have higher interest in it, are more likely to trust the news, and more inclined to pay for it.
This suggests increasing news literacy can help users navigate the complex online environment, and could also have both civic and economic benefits.
While there is no single solution to reducing misinformation online, this year’s data points to two key areas for further action: increasing access to media literacy training for all Australians, and compelling digital platforms to remove more misleading and harmful content.
Sora Park receives funding from the Australian Research Council, SBS, Creative Australia and Boundless Earth.
Ashleigh Haw has received funding from the Australian National University’s Herbert and Valmae Freilich Project for the Study of Bigotry, and The Australian Sociological Association (TASA).
Caroline Fisher has received funding from Australian Research Council, Google News Initiative, the Australian Communication and Media Authority, former Dept of Communication and Infrastructure, and Judith Neilsen Institute for Journalism and Ideas.
Kieran McGuinness has received funding from Google News Initiative and the Australian Communications and Media Authority.
The restoration of wetlands is an often overlooked opportunity. As our recent study shows, wetlands have long been treated as environmental “add-ons” but are in fact rising economic assets, delivering more value as they mature.
Restored coastal wetlands, particularly mangroves and saltmarshes, offer growing returns in the form of carbon sequestration, biodiversity protection and storm buffering. These benefits build up gradually, sometimes exponentially, over time.
But planning frameworks treat restorations as static costs, rather than compounding investments.
Using international data and economic modelling, we developed a framework to capture how wetland benefits evolve over decades. While we draw on global datasets, this approach can be applied in New Zealand to understand the value of local restoration projects.
Timing matters for wetland investment
Traditional cost-benefit analyses treat wetland restoration as a one-off expense with fixed returns. Our research shows this misses the bigger, long-term picture.
For example, coastal mangroves initially store a modest amount of carbon while seedlings develop. But as root systems establish and capture sediment, there is a critical threshold when carbon sequestration accelerates dramatically. Mature restored mangroves can store three times more carbon annually than during early years.
Saltmarshes follow a similar pattern. They develop from basic habitat into complex networks that buffer storm surges, filter nutrients and support productive fisheries.
For New Zealand, where many wetlands were historically drained or degraded, the implication is clear. Early investment in restoration is critical and will deliver increasing returns over time.
Our study highlights mangroves and saltmarshes as priority systems, but also points to peatlands and freshwater marshes as promising candidates.
The law review and freshwater policy consultations present both opportunities and challenges for wetland valuation.
The amendment to the Resource Management Act regarding freshwater proposes:
quick, targeted changes which will reduce the regulatory burden on key sectors, including farming, mining and other primary industries.
While this may reduce the regulatory burden, it highlight the need for robust valuation tools that can weigh long-term benefits against immediate development returns.
The current consultation outlines specific changes, including clarifying the definition of a wetland. The amended definition would exclude wetlands “unintentionally created” through activities such as irrigation, while constructed wetlands would have a new set of objectives and consent pathways.
Councils would also no longer need to map wetlands by 2030, while restrictions on non-intensive grazing of beef cattle and deer in wetlands would be removed.
These definition changes could exclude wetlands that accumulate significant climate and biodiversity benefits over time, regardless of their origin. As our research suggests, the ecological and economic value of wetlands often increases substantially as systems mature.
The valuation gap
Despite growing international recognition of “blue carbon” initiatives (which store carbon in coastal and marine ecosystems), New Zealand lacks frameworks to capture the dynamic value of wetlands.
New Zealand has no wetland-specific financial instruments to attract private investment and wetlands are not integrated into the Emissions Trading Scheme, the government’s main tool for reducing greenhouse gas emissions.
This creates a fundamental mismatch. Policy frameworks treat restoration as static costs while science reveals appreciating assets.
Our modelling framework offers a pathway to bridge this gap. By tracking how different wetland types accumulate benefits over time, decision makers can better understand long-term returns on restoration investment.
Australia is already developing wetland carbon markets. International blue carbon financial initiatives are emerging and recognising that today’s restoration investment delivers tomorrow’s climate benefits.
For New Zealand, this could mean:
integrating wetland valuation into environmental assessments, moving beyond upfront costs to consider decades of accumulating benefits across different wetland types
aligning finance with restoration timelines and developing funding mechanisms that capture growing value rather than treating restoration as sunk costs
building regional datasets and generating location-specific data on how New Zealand’s diverse wetlands develop benefits over time, reducing investment uncertainty.
With sea-level rise accelerating and extreme weather becoming more frequent, wetlands represent critical infrastructure for climate adaptation. Unlike built infrastructure (stop banks, for example) that depreciates, wetlands appreciate, becoming more valuable as they mature.
The current policy consultation period offers an opportunity to embed this thinking into New Zealand’s environmental frameworks. Rather than viewing wetlands as regulatory constraints, dynamic valuation could reveal them as appreciating assets that increase resilience for coastal communities.
Restoring coastal wetlands is not just about repairing nature. It’s about investing in a living, compounding asset that ameliorates climate impacts and protects our coasts and communities.
Wei Yang was funded by a Ministry of Business, Innovation and Employment Endeavour grant.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Jairo Gutierrez, Professor, Department of Computer and Information Sciences, Auckland University of Technology
There’s a certain feeling I get in the pit of my stomach when I’m waiting for an important call to come through. You know the type – maybe a call from your boss, a potential new employer or news of a loved one who’s due to give birth.
In these situations, I usually stare at my phone, willing it to ring. I make sure – over and again – it’s not on silent or “do not disturb” mode. When the screen is out of my sight, I imagine I can hear the familiar ringtone.
Then it pops up – the missed call notification. But the phone never rang. What happened?
How do mobile calls work?
When making a mobile call using 4G or 5G networks, the caller dials a number and their network operator (Telstra or OneNZ, for example) routes the request to the recipient’s device.
For this to work, both phones must be registered with an IP Multimedia Subsystem – or IMS – which automatically happens when you turn on your phone. IMS is the system that allows the combination of voice calls, messages and video communications.
Both phones must also be connected to a 4G or 5G cell phone tower. The caller’s network sends an invite to the recipient’s device, which will then start to ring.
This process is usually very fast. But as generations of cellular networks have evolved (remember 3G?), becoming faster and with greater capacity, they have also become more complex, with new potential points of failure.
From phone failures to ‘dead zones’
Mobile phones use Voice over LTE (VoLTE) for 4G networks or Voice over New Radio (VoNR) for 5G. These are technologies that enable voice calls over those two types of networks and they use the above mentioned IMS.
In some countries such as New Zealand, if either of these aren’t enabled or supported on your device (some phones have VoLTE disabled by default), it may attempt to fall back to the 3G network, which was switched off in Australia in 2024 and is currently being phased out in New Zealand.
If this fallback fails or is delayed, the recipient’s phone may not ring or may go straight to voicemail.
Another possibility is that your phone may have failed to register with the IMS network. If this happens – due to something like a software glitch, SIM issue, or network problem – a phone won’t receive the call signal and won’t ring.
Then there are handover issues. Each cell phone tower covers a particular area, and if you are moving, your call will be handed over to the tower that provides the best coverage. Sometimes your phone uses 5G for data but 4G for voice; if the handover between 5G and 4G is slow or fails, the call might not ring. If 5G is used for both data and voice, VoNR is used, which is still not widely supported and may fail.
Mobile apps introduce other potential problems. For example, on Android, aggressive battery-saving features can restrict background processes, including the phone app, preventing it from responding to incoming calls. Third-party apps such as call blockers, antivirus tools, or even messaging apps can also interfere with call notifications.
Finally, if your phone is in an area with poor reception, it may not receive the call signal in time to ring. These so-called “dead zones” are more common than telcos would like to admit. I live at the end of a long driveway in a well-covered suburb of Auckland in New Zealand. But, depending on where I am in the house, I still experience dead zones and often the WiFi-enabled phone apps will more reliably cause the phone to ring.
Battery-saving features on phones can restrict background processes, including the phone app, preventing it from responding to incoming calls. ymgerman/Shutterstock
What can I do to fix it?
If your phone frequently doesn’t ring on 4G or 5G there are a few things you can do:
make sure VolTE/VoNR is enabled in your network settings
restart your phone and toggle airplane mode to refresh network registration
check battery optimisation settings and exclude the phone app you are using
contact your carrier to confirm VoLTE/VoNR support and provisioning.
But ultimately, sometimes a call will just fail – and there’s very little an everyday person can do about it. Which yes, is annoying. But it also means you have a failsafe, expert-approved excuse for missing a call from your boss.
Jairo Gutierrez 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.
Artist’s impression of Dargan Shelter as it would have looked during the last Ice Age.Painting by Leanne Watson Redpath
Travel back 20,000 years into the last Ice Age, to a time when the upper reaches of the Blue Mountains were treeless and the ridgelines and mountain peaks laden in snow and ice.
At an elevation of 1,073 metres, you will find Dargan Shelter, an ancient rock shelter resembling a large amphitheatre. Looking around, you could easily assume this cold and barren high country was too difficult for people to spend time in.
But our new research, published today in Nature Human Behaviour, indicates Dargan Shelter was occupied as early as the last Ice Age and repeatedly visited during this cold period.
Our excavation results provide the earliest known evidence of high-altitude occupation in Australia, establishing the Blue Mountains as Australia’s most archaeologically significant periglacial landscape – that is, an area which goes through seasonal freezing and thawing.
Cultural perspectives
This is a highly significant landscape concentrated with tangible and intangible cultural values for Aboriginal people.
For millennia, Aboriginal people have passed down the knowledge and stories of Country.
Knowing our Ancestors have lived here, in this Country, for thousands of years was on our minds as the team headed down into the site where we would sit alongside our Ancestors of yesterday.
We chose this site because of its location on a known Aboriginal travelling route, high elevation and its potential to hold deep deposits.
Archaeologically, a deep and undisturbed deposit is one of the most important things to look for. The sediment buildup over time preserves cultural material, and allows us to reconstruct past activities by associating cultural objects within distinct layers or bands of time.
Members of the season 3 team at Dargan Shelter. Back to front, left to right: Tyrone Pal, Rodney Lawson, Wayne Brennan, Duncan Wright, Eitan Harris, Juliet Schofield, Michael Spate, Wayne Logue, Lauren Roach, Rebecca Chalker, Dominic Wilkins, Phil Piper, Amy Way, Imogen Williams. Amy Way
When we enter the site, we pay respects to the Country and Ancestors before us. As part of the opening of the site for the archaeological works, a lyrebird song and dance were performed and, magically, a handful of lyrebirds began approaching the cave and singing out as if they were communicating between the current and old worlds through song.
We do not know who exactly the Aboriginal people who moved through the Blue Mountains in the deep past were, nor where they came from. But Dargan Shelter was probably an important stopover point for people to attend gatherings and ceremonies that could have included people from the western interior, the Cumberland coastal plains, and Country to the north and south.
Finds from the Dargan Shelter excavation
New evidence provides definitive proof of repeated occupation in this once frozen high-altitude landscape. It is now believed to be the oldest occupied site in Australia at high elevation.
We unearthed 693 stone artefacts, including 117 flakes from stratigraphic layers older than 16,000 years, and documented a small amount of faded rock art, including a child-sized hand stencil and two forearm stencils.
Charcoal from hearths (campfires) underwent radiocarbon dating, indicating Dargan Shelter had been continuously occupied since 22,000 to 19,000 years ago.
Stone artefacts excavated at Dargan shelter dating to the last ice-age, showing the range of non-quartz raw material used during that time. (A) hornfels; (B) black quartzite hammerstone from the Hunter region; (C) exotic coarse grained unidentified siliceous stone possibly from Jenolan; (D) Local Burragorang claystone; (E) exotic fine grained siliceous stone possibly from Jenolan; Amy Way
Among the findings, most of the stone tools were locally sourced and made. But, very interestingly some stones from the Jenolan Caves area, approximately 50 kilometres to the south-west, and the Hunter Valley region, 150 km to the north, were also found. This indicates people were travelling into this mountainous region from both the north and south.
We found a sandstone grinding slab, dated to 13,000 years ago, consistent with shaping bone or wooden artefacts such as needles, awls, bone points and nose points. A basalt anvil with impact marks consistent with cracking hard woody nuts and seed shells was dated to 8,800 years ago.
Greater Blue Mountains and world heritage
The Blue Mountains was listed as a UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization) World Heritage area in 2000 for its outstanding biodiversity values.
Although the cultural heritage is remarkably intact and connected with an environmental system and natural features, the parallel nomination for cultural values listing failed due to a paucity of archaeological and cultural heritage information.
Our new research should be considered in a nomination for the UNESCO World Heritage area to also encompass cultural heritage alongside biodiversity.
The Blue Mountains landscape shrouds a silent yet rich tapestry of Aboriginal heritage.
Our people have walked, lived and thrived in the Blue Mountains for thousands of years. The mountains are a tangible connection to our Ancestors who used them as a meeting place for sharing, storytelling and survival. They are a part of our cultural identity.
We need to respect and protect our heritage for the benefit of all Australians.
Archaeological works in progress: Imogen Williams, Rebecca Chalker and Tyrone Pal excavating the Ice Age layers. Amy Way
Our results align Australia for the first time with ice age data from the world’s other inhabited continents, including sites in other places not traditionally thought of as cold climates, such as Mexico and Spain.
We now have a truly global story of people entering and living in high-altitude landscapes during the last ice age.
The continuation of research projects like this one, and the invaluable evidence it provides across the region, will allow Aboriginal people with connections to the Blue Mountains to begin to stitch back together much of the history and many of the stories that until now have had gaps.
The more we discover and piece together the movements, ceremonies and stories, the stronger we are as a community.
Amy Mosig Way receives funding from the Australian Museum Foundation and is a Senior Lecturer at the University of Sydney.
Erin Wilkins, Leanne Watson, and Wayne Brennan 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.
Artist’s impression of Dargan Shelter as it would have looked during the last Ice Age.Painting by Leanne Watson Redpath
Travel back 20,000 years into the last Ice Age, to a time when the upper reaches of the Blue Mountains were treeless and the ridgelines and mountain peaks laden in snow and ice.
At an elevation of 1,073 metres, you will find Dargan Shelter, an ancient rock shelter resembling a large amphitheatre. Looking around, you could easily assume this cold and barren high country was too difficult for people to spend time in.
But our new research, published today in Nature Human Behaviour, indicates Dargan Shelter was occupied as early as the last Ice Age and repeatedly visited during this cold period.
Our excavation results provide the earliest known evidence of high-altitude occupation in Australia, establishing the Blue Mountains as Australia’s most archaeologically significant periglacial landscape – that is, an area which goes through seasonal freezing and thawing.
Cultural perspectives
This is a highly significant landscape concentrated with tangible and intangible cultural values for Aboriginal people.
For millennia, Aboriginal people have passed down the knowledge and stories of Country.
Knowing our Ancestors have lived here, in this Country, for thousands of years was on our minds as the team headed down into the site where we would sit alongside our Ancestors of yesterday.
We chose this site because of its location on a known Aboriginal travelling route, high elevation and its potential to hold deep deposits.
Archaeologically, a deep and undisturbed deposit is one of the most important things to look for. The sediment buildup over time preserves cultural material, and allows us to reconstruct past activities by associating cultural objects within distinct layers or bands of time.
Members of the season 3 team at Dargan Shelter. Back to front, left to right: Tyrone Pal, Rodney Lawson, Wayne Brennan, Duncan Wright, Eitan Harris, Juliet Schofield, Michael Spate, Wayne Logue, Lauren Roach, Rebecca Chalker, Dominic Wilkins, Phil Piper, Amy Way, Imogen Williams. Amy Way
When we enter the site, we pay respects to the Country and Ancestors before us. As part of the opening of the site for the archaeological works, a lyrebird song and dance were performed and, magically, a handful of lyrebirds began approaching the cave and singing out as if they were communicating between the current and old worlds through song.
We do not know who exactly the Aboriginal people who moved through the Blue Mountains in the deep past were, nor where they came from. But Dargan Shelter was probably an important stopover point for people to attend gatherings and ceremonies that could have included people from the western interior, the Cumberland coastal plains, and Country to the north and south.
Finds from the Dargan Shelter excavation
New evidence provides definitive proof of repeated occupation in this once frozen high-altitude landscape. It is now believed to be the oldest occupied site in Australia at high elevation.
We unearthed 693 stone artefacts, including 117 flakes from stratigraphic layers older than 16,000 years, and documented a small amount of faded rock art, including a child-sized hand stencil and two forearm stencils.
Charcoal from hearths (campfires) underwent radiocarbon dating, indicating Dargan Shelter had been continuously occupied since 22,000 to 19,000 years ago.
Stone artefacts excavated at Dargan shelter dating to the last ice-age, showing the range of non-quartz raw material used during that time. (A) hornfels; (B) black quartzite hammerstone from the Hunter region; (C) exotic coarse grained unidentified siliceous stone possibly from Jenolan; (D) Local Burragorang claystone; (E) exotic fine grained siliceous stone possibly from Jenolan; Amy Way
Among the findings, most of the stone tools were locally sourced and made. But, very interestingly some stones from the Jenolan Caves area, approximately 50 kilometres to the south-west, and the Hunter Valley region, 150 km to the north, were also found. This indicates people were travelling into this mountainous region from both the north and south.
We found a sandstone grinding slab, dated to 13,000 years ago, consistent with shaping bone or wooden artefacts such as needles, awls, bone points and nose points. A basalt anvil with impact marks consistent with cracking hard woody nuts and seed shells was dated to 8,800 years ago.
Greater Blue Mountains and world heritage
The Blue Mountains was listed as a UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization) World Heritage area in 2000 for its outstanding biodiversity values.
Although the cultural heritage is remarkably intact and connected with an environmental system and natural features, the parallel nomination for cultural values listing failed due to a paucity of archaeological and cultural heritage information.
Our new research should be considered in a nomination for the UNESCO World Heritage area to also encompass cultural heritage alongside biodiversity.
The Blue Mountains landscape shrouds a silent yet rich tapestry of Aboriginal heritage.
Our people have walked, lived and thrived in the Blue Mountains for thousands of years. The mountains are a tangible connection to our Ancestors who used them as a meeting place for sharing, storytelling and survival. They are a part of our cultural identity.
We need to respect and protect our heritage for the benefit of all Australians.
Archaeological works in progress: Imogen Williams, Rebecca Chalker and Tyrone Pal excavating the Ice Age layers. Amy Way
Our results align Australia for the first time with ice age data from the world’s other inhabited continents, including sites in other places not traditionally thought of as cold climates, such as Mexico and Spain.
We now have a truly global story of people entering and living in high-altitude landscapes during the last ice age.
The continuation of research projects like this one, and the invaluable evidence it provides across the region, will allow Aboriginal people with connections to the Blue Mountains to begin to stitch back together much of the history and many of the stories that until now have had gaps.
The more we discover and piece together the movements, ceremonies and stories, the stronger we are as a community.
Amy Mosig Way receives funding from the Australian Museum Foundation and is a Senior Lecturer at the University of Sydney.
Erin Wilkins, Leanne Watson, and Wayne Brennan 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.
About one quarter of Australian school students are learning English as an additional language or dialect.
This means their first language or dialect is something other than English and they need extra support to develop proficiency in what we call standard Australian English.
This group of students includes immigrants and refugees from non-English speaking countries, children of migrant heritage where English is not spoken at home and Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students.
But the level and duration of support they receive varies across schools. This is an issue because these students risk underachieving or being labelled as having learning difficulties without adequate help.
Until now, little was known about how long these students take to learn English.
Our new research published today by the Australian Education Research Organisation, found it can take many years for students to develop the English language skills they need. This suggests students need ongoing and targeted support to learn English as an additional language.
Our study
We looked at more than 110,000 primary and high school students in New South Wales public schools over a nine-year period.
The students were learning English as an additional language from 2014 to 2022. Our research used two methods.
First, we analysed how long it took these students to achieve the same scores in their NAPLAN reading and writing tests as their English-speaking peers with the same background characteristics. That is, students were matched for characteristics such as gender, student socio-educational advantage and school location.
Second, we analysed how long it took students learning English as an additional language to reach certain phases of language proficiency. There is a national learning progression resource for schools supporting students learning English as an additional language. It has four phases: beginning, emerging, developing and consolidating.
Source: The EAL/D Learning Progression: Foundation to Year 10, ACARA, 2015., CC BY
It can take many years to learn English
Combining both methods, we found students need considerable time to learn English as an additional language.
For students who were assessed as “beginning” when they started school, it takes an average of six years to reach the final “consolidating” phase.
This means those students starting in kindergarten (the first year of school in NSW) are likely to need English language support throughout primary school.
For “beginning” students who start in later years, they may need continued English language support in high school.
Students who started school at the “emerging” and “developing” phases take, on average, four and three years, respectively to have English skills on par with their peers.
Learning English takes longer as you go along
We also found as students learned English, each phase in their progression took longer to achieve than the one before:
the average time from beginning to emerging was one year and one month
from emerging to developing was one year and eight months
from developing to consolidating was two years and seven months.
What can impact learning?
But learning English is complex and can be impacted by many factors.
We found students with socio-educational disadvantage progressed 22% slower than advantaged students, students with refugee experiences progressed 14% slower than those without. Male students took 6% longer than their female peers.
We also found students starting school in kindergarten progressed about 9% slower, compared to starting school in Australia in later primary year levels.
But we found students who started school already at the final, “consolidating” phase of English outperformed monolingual peers in NAPLAN. This suggests these students, who are arguably bilingual, were at an educational advantage.
Average NAPLAN reading performance of students learning English as an additional language and their matched peers. Source: NSW Department of Education National Assessment Program – Literacy and Numeracy 2014 to 2022, CC BY
Targeted support is needed
Our findings have a number of implications.
Firstly, they help us understand the nature and length of support needed for students learning English students in schools.
This also suggests we need to make effective professional support available for teachers working with students who are learning English as an additional language.
The academic advantage of bilingual students also points to a need to encourage and support students using and developing their first and other languages, alongside English.
Lucy Lu is the Senior Manager, Analytics and Strategic Projects in the Australian Education Research Organisation (AERO). AERO is jointly funded by the Commonwealth, state and territory governments.
Jennifer Hammond has previously received funding from the Australian Research Council and the NSW Department of Education. All projects funded from these sources were completed more than six years ago.
About one quarter of Australian school students are learning English as an additional language or dialect.
This means their first language or dialect is something other than English and they need extra support to develop proficiency in what we call standard Australian English.
This group of students includes immigrants and refugees from non-English speaking countries, children of migrant heritage where English is not spoken at home and Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students.
But the level and duration of support they receive varies across schools. This is an issue because these students risk underachieving or being labelled as having learning difficulties without adequate help.
Until now, little was known about how long these students take to learn English.
Our new research published today by the Australian Education Research Organisation, found it can take many years for students to develop the English language skills they need. This suggests students need ongoing and targeted support to learn English as an additional language.
Our study
We looked at more than 110,000 primary and high school students in New South Wales public schools over a nine-year period.
The students were learning English as an additional language from 2014 to 2022. Our research used two methods.
First, we analysed how long it took these students to achieve the same scores in their NAPLAN reading and writing tests as their English-speaking peers with the same background characteristics. That is, students were matched for characteristics such as gender, student socio-educational advantage and school location.
Second, we analysed how long it took students learning English as an additional language to reach certain phases of language proficiency. There is a national learning progression resource for schools supporting students learning English as an additional language. It has four phases: beginning, emerging, developing and consolidating.
Source: The EAL/D Learning Progression: Foundation to Year 10, ACARA, 2015., CC BY
It can take many years to learn English
Combining both methods, we found students need considerable time to learn English as an additional language.
For students who were assessed as “beginning” when they started school, it takes an average of six years to reach the final “consolidating” phase.
This means those students starting in kindergarten (the first year of school in NSW) are likely to need English language support throughout primary school.
For “beginning” students who start in later years, they may need continued English language support in high school.
Students who started school at the “emerging” and “developing” phases take, on average, four and three years, respectively to have English skills on par with their peers.
Learning English takes longer as you go along
We also found as students learned English, each phase in their progression took longer to achieve than the one before:
the average time from beginning to emerging was one year and one month
from emerging to developing was one year and eight months
from developing to consolidating was two years and seven months.
What can impact learning?
But learning English is complex and can be impacted by many factors.
We found students with socio-educational disadvantage progressed 22% slower than advantaged students, students with refugee experiences progressed 14% slower than those without. Male students took 6% longer than their female peers.
We also found students starting school in kindergarten progressed about 9% slower, compared to starting school in Australia in later primary year levels.
But we found students who started school already at the final, “consolidating” phase of English outperformed monolingual peers in NAPLAN. This suggests these students, who are arguably bilingual, were at an educational advantage.
Average NAPLAN reading performance of students learning English as an additional language and their matched peers. Source: NSW Department of Education National Assessment Program – Literacy and Numeracy 2014 to 2022, CC BY
Targeted support is needed
Our findings have a number of implications.
Firstly, they help us understand the nature and length of support needed for students learning English students in schools.
This also suggests we need to make effective professional support available for teachers working with students who are learning English as an additional language.
The academic advantage of bilingual students also points to a need to encourage and support students using and developing their first and other languages, alongside English.
Lucy Lu is the Senior Manager, Analytics and Strategic Projects in the Australian Education Research Organisation (AERO). AERO is jointly funded by the Commonwealth, state and territory governments.
Jennifer Hammond has previously received funding from the Australian Research Council and the NSW Department of Education. All projects funded from these sources were completed more than six years ago.
Boronias, known for their showy flowers and strong scent, are a quintessential part of the Australian bush. They led Traditional Owners to the best water sources and inspired Australian children’s author and illustrator May Gibbs to pen one of her earliest books, Boronia Babies.
But a weird group of boronias has puzzled botanists for decades. They have closed flowers that thwart most insect visitors. Those that do gain entry may encounter alternating sterile and fertile anthers (the male part that produces pollen) and sometimes, an enlarged stigma (the female part that receives pollen).
Since the early 1960s, scientists speculated this group of boronias relied on an “unusual agent for effective pollination”. Moths were occasionally mentioned in the botanical literature as potential pollinators, but the full story remained elusive – until now.
As my colleagues and I detail in our new research, moths are indeed the mystery pollinators of this strange group of flowers. This knowledge is crucial to ensuring their long-term survival.
My interest in the boronia pollinators began 15 years ago. I was studying a family of moths in my spare time, with a group of friends.
These moths, called Heliozelidae, are tiny. Their wings are just a few millimetres long, smaller than a grain of rice.
They fly during the day and are seldom attracted to lights, so they are poorly represented in museum collections. The best way to find them is to sweep plants with a butterfly net then look inside it.
The author searching for moths in Western Australia. Douglas Hilton
After sweeping plants all over Australia, we discovered this country is a hotspot for Heliozelidae. Hundreds – if not thousands – of these species are new to science and yet to be described. In comparison, only 90 species of Heliozelidae have been described from the rest of the world.
We consistently found one group of 15 moth species on the boronias with the weird flowers in the biodiversity hotspot of Western Australia’s South West. Each moth species was found only on a specific boronia species.
When we took a closer look, we found each of the 15 Heliozelidae has an intricate structure at the tip of its abdomen that collects pollen. There’s nothing else quite like this in the 150,000 known species of moths and butterflies. At last, the mystery of the boronia pollinators was solved.
Pollen-collecting structure, replete with pollen, on the dorsal tip of the abdomen of the moth that pollinates Boronia crenulata. Dr Qike Wang
The process of pollinating boronias
In spring, female moths lay many eggs inside flowers. While moving about inside the flower, she collects pollen in the little structure on her abdomen. She enters and exits multiple flowers, pollinating as she goes.
When the eggs hatch, the caterpillars eat some of the flowers’ developing seeds. When they are fully grown, they leave the flower and burrow into the soil to pupate in a cocoon. When they emerge in spring as moths, the flowers are blooming again and the life cycle repeats.
For some species, such as brown boronia, the moths may be the only visitor the flowers ever receive. This suggests the moth and the plant have a reciprocal relationship, depending on each other for reproduction and ultimately, survival.
This is unusual in nature. The poster-child for this type of relationship is the figs and fig wasps.
Tiny metallic day-flying moths are the boronia pollinators. Andy Young
What’s in a name?
When a scientist discovers and officially describes a new species in the academic literature, they have to name it. Scientific names have two parts. The first part is the genus or group of closely related species and the second identifies the individual species.
We built a family tree which included the new pollinating moths using their DNA sequences. We showed the pollinators belong to the genus Prophylactis meaning “to guard before”, which previously contained four non-pollinating species. This gives us the first part of the name.
For the second part, we used the name of the plant each moth pollinates and added the suffix -allax, meaning “alternately” or “in exchange”. This shows their close relationship to the plant.
So, the moth that pollinates Boronia megastigma is called Prophylactis megastigmallax. The moth that pollinates the endangered Boronia clavata is Prophylactis clavatallax – and so on.
Much to learn
The pollinating moths are more closely related to each other than to other species in the Prophylactis genus. This suggests they inherited their pollen-collecting structure from a long-gone common ancestor.
As with all good science, this research leads to new questions. For example, we are now studying which moth-plant pairs fully depend on each other.
Other Australian plant species may also have intimate relationships with moths.
Current field work is exploring which of Australia’s 486 plant species in the citrus-family (Rutaceae) are linked to moths and how often moths have evolved to pollinate them.
Bush secrets brought to life
Our research shows just how much of Australia’s biodiversity is yet to be understood and protected.
As climate change and land-clearing drive biodiversity loss at an unprecedented rate, this is a challenge we must tackle with renewed urgency. Otherwise our children and grandchildren may only experience the full glory of Gibb’s characters on a page, and not in the natural world.
Douglas Hilton works for CSIRO. The work highlighted in this article received funding from The Hermon Slade Foundation, which supports high quality biological research by scientists in Australian universities and research institutes. The research was made possible through a group of generous collaborators and co-authors including Andy Young, Liz Milla, Mengjie Jin, Stephen Wilcox, Qike Wang, Verena Wimmer, Jinny Chang, Henning Kallies, Andie Hall, Marina Watowich, Carly Busch, Jordan Wilcox, Aileen Swarbrick, Marlene Walter, Don Sands, Davina Paterson, David Lees, Marco Duretto, Adnan Moussalli, Mike Halsey and Axel Kallies.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Delyse Hutchinson, Associate Professor, Clinical Psychologist, and NHMRC Leadership Fellow, SEED Centre for Lifespan Research, School of Psychology, Deakin University
In Australia, an estimated one in ten men experience mental health issues such as anxiety and depression before and after their child is born (the perinatal period).
Alongside emotional ups and downs and exhaustion, new dads may also be facing greater practical demands, such as caring for the baby, supporting their partner, and providing financially.
It’s not surprising, then, that becoming a dad may be linked to increased psychological distress. But it’s concerning because many men don’t access help. There’s also growing evidence a father’s mental state may affect his developing child in the short and long term.
Our new review brings together the international evidence about the relationship between fathers’ mental health and children’s development for the first time.
We found consistent associations between dads’ psychological distress before and after birth and poorer outcomes in children’s social, emotional, cognitive, language and physical development, from birth until the early teens.
The good news? There are effective ways to intervene early.
Barriers to getting help
There are complex reasons why new fathers might not access help for mental distress.
Men may also feel they need to be strong and push past tough emotions to “get on” with looking after the family.
They may be reluctant to acknowledge their own difficulties, and instead avoid the issue, through strategies such as working excessively, or using alcohol or other drugs.
As a result, men may have trouble recognising mental distress and it may go undetected by the people around them and in the wider health-care system.
We don’t know the true impact
Research on early risk factors for poorer child development is around 17 times more likely to focus on mothers’ health and lifestyle, compared to fathers.
This focus is understandable, given up to one in five women experience perinatal anxiety or depression in the transition to motherhood.
Strong evidence links mothers’ mental distress to poorer child outcomes. For example, mothers experiencing perinatal anxiety or depression may withdraw and find it difficult to interact with their child. This may be linked to delays in children’s developing social and emotional skills.
Yet similar research on fathers has been lacking.
This imbalance affects health policy and clinical practice, leaving many fathers feeling excluded from family health care. The impact on their children has also been poorly understood.
What we looked at
Our new research aimed to understand how men’s mental health before and after birth is related to their child’s development, from birth through adolescence.
We looked at the findings from 84 longitudinal studies which track people over long periods of time, including from Australia, Europe, Asia and North America.
The review included any study that measured an association between perinatal depression, anxiety or stress in fathers (biological or adoptive) and child development. These included social and emotional skills, thinking and problem-solving, language, physical development and motor skills.
Our study had three main findings
First, mental distress in fathers during pregnancy and after birth was consistently linked to poorer development in their children.
Specifically, this included lower ratings on social, emotional, cognitive, and language skills, such as the capacity to interact with others, understand feelings, process information and communicate. It also affected physical health outcomes, such as body weight, sleep and eating patterns.
Second, associations were evident from early development (infancy) through to the early teens (13 years). This suggests that, without support, a father’s perinatal mental distress may be related to child development well beyond infancy.
Third, fathers’ mental distress after birth was more strongly related to how children developed than their mental distress during pregnancy.
This is not surprising, because it’s when fathers begin to interact with infants and may more directly influence their development.
So, what should change?
Our findings underscore that getting in early to support dads – both before and soon after the arrival of a new child – is crucial.
Routine screening for signs of mental distress is effective in identifying mothers who might benefit from help. This could be extended to all parents, through family planning, antenatal and postpartum clinics, and GP check-ups.
Research shows 80% of men see a GP or allied health practitioner in the year before having a baby. Asking about other aspects of wellbeing – such as sleep quality – can be an effective and non-stigmatising way to ease into conversations about mental health.
This can help connect men with support services earlier, to improve their health and their children’s.
What should men look out for?
Studies suggest men may often express their distress through relationship strain, rather than sadness. They may also report self-harm, suicidal ideation and feeling isolated.
Options for men who want more support include counselling, peer group support and online apps that use mindfulness and cognitive behaviour therapy to help manage moods.
For fathers needing more immediate support, crisis support services offer 24/7 live counselling via chat, telephone or video:
If this article has raised issues for you, or if you’re concerned about someone you know, call Lifeline on 13 11 14. In an emergency in Australia, call triple 0.
Delyse Hutchinson receives funding from the National Health and Medical Research Council (NHMRC).
Jacqui Macdonald receives funding from the National Health and Medical Research Council’s Medical Research Future Fund and the Australian Research Council. She convenes the Australian Fatherhood Research Consortium and she is on the Movember Global Men’s Health Advisory Committee.
Samantha Teague receives funding from the National Health and Medical Research Council (NHMRC).
Genevieve Le Bas and Stephanie Aarsman 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.
Imagine a lush forest with tree-ferns, their trunks capped by ribbon-like fronds. Conifers tower overhead, bearing triangular leaves almost sharp enough to pierce skin. Flowering plants are both small and rare.
You’re standing in what is now Victoria, Australia, about 127 million years ago during the Early Cretaceous Period. Slightly to your south, a massive river – more than a kilometre wide – separates you from Tasmania. This river flows along the valley forming between Australia and Antarctica as the two continents begin to split apart.
During the Early Cretaceous, southeastern Australia was some of the closest land to the South Pole. Here, the night lasted for three months in winter, contrasting with three months of daytime in summer. Despite this extreme day-night cycle, various kinds of dinosaurs still thrived here, as did flies, wasps and dragonflies.
And, as our recently published research in Palaeogeography, Palaeoclimatology, Palaeoecology reveals, termites also chewed through the decaying wood of fallen trees. This is the first record of termites living in a polar region – and their presence provides key insights into what these ancient forests were like.
But these wood-eating bugs are a key part of many environments, freeing up nutrients contained in dead plants. They are one of the best organisms at breaking down large amounts of wood, and significantly speed up the decay of fallen wood in forests.
Ancient polar forests roughly 120 million years ago in southeastern Australia were dominated by conifer trees. Bob Nicholls
The breakdown of wood by termites makes it easier for further consumption by other animals and fungi.
Their role in ancient Victoria’s polar forests would have been just as important, as the natural decay of wood is very slow in cold conditions.
Although the cold winters would have slowed termites too, they may have thrived during long periods of darkness, just as modern termites are more active during the night.
The oldest termite nest in Australia
Our new paper, led by Monash University palaeontology research associate Jonathan Edwards, reports the discovery of an ancient termite nest near the coastal town of Inverloch in southeastern Victoria. Preserved in a 80-centimetre-long piece of fossilised log, the nest tunnels carved out by termites were first spotted by local fossil-hunter extraordinaire Melissa Lowery.
Without its discoverers knowing what it was then, the log was brought into the lab and we began investigating the origins of its structures.
Understanding the nest was challenging at first: the tunnels exposed on the surface were filled with what looked like tiny grains of rice, each around 2 millimetres long. We suspected they were most likely the coprolites (fossilised poo) of the nest-makers. Once we took a look under the microscope we noticed something very interesting: this poo was hexagonal.
Termite poo has a distinct hexagonal shape, as seen in these thin sections of the fossilised log we examined. Jonathan Edwards & William Parker
How did this shape point to termites as the “poopetrators”?
Modern termites have a gut with three sets of muscle bands. Just before excretion, their waste is squeezed to save as much water as possible, giving an almost perfect hexagonal shape to the pellets.
The size, shape, distribution and quantity of coprolites meant we had just discovered the oldest termite nest in Australia – and perhaps the largest termite wood nest from dinosaur times.
A global distribution
We continued to investigate the nest with more specific methods.
For example, we scanned parts of it with the Australian Synchrotron – a research facility that uses X-rays and infrared radiation to see the structure and composition of materials. This showed us what the unweathered coprolites inside the log looked like.
MicroCT imagery of termite coprolites within the nest. Jonathan Edwards
We also made very thin slices of the nest and looked at these slices with high-powered microscopes. And we analysed the chemistry of the log, which further supported our original theory of the nest’s identity.
The oldest fossilised termites have been found in the northern hemisphere about 150 million years ago, during the Late Jurassic Period.
What is exciting is that our trace fossils show they had reached the southernmost landmasses by 127 million years ago. This presence means they had likely spread all over Earth by this point.
The termites weren’t alone
Surprisingly, these termites also had smaller wood-eating companions.
During our investigation, we also noticed coprolites more than ten times smaller than those made by termites. These pellets likely belonged to wood-eating oribatid mites – minuscule arachnids with fossils dating back almost 400 million years. Many of their tunnels ring those left by the termites, telling us they inhabited this nest after the termites abandoned it.
CT reconstructions of termite and mite coprolites show the huge difference in size between them. Jonathan Edwards
Termite tunnels may have acted as mite highways, taking them deeper into the log. Moreover, because both groups ate the toughest parts of wood, these two invertebrates might have directly competed at the time. Modern oribatid mites only eat wood affected by fungi.
Regardless, our study documents the first known interaction of wood-nesting termites and oribatid mites in the fossil record.
This nest also provides important support for the idea that Australia’s polar forests weren’t dominated by ice, as modern termites can’t tolerate prolonged freezing.
This is the first record of termites living in a polar region, and their presence suggests relatively mild polar winters — something like 6°C on average. Termites would’ve been key players in these ecosystems, kickstarting wood breakdown and nutrient cycling in an otherwise slow environment.
So maybe next time you spot a termite nest, you’ll see a builder, not a bulldozer.
The authors would like to acknowledge the work of Jonathan Edwards who led the research and helped prepare this article.
Alistair Evans receives funding from the Australian Research Council and Monash University, and is an Honorary Research Affiliate with Museums Victoria.
Anthony J. Martin 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.
Jaws turns 50 on June 20. Last year, Quentin Tarantino called Stephen Spielberg’s film “possibly the greatest movie ever made”. Though he was quick to add that it isn’t the best film in terms of script, cinematography or acting, he was convinced that its overall quality as a movie remains unmatched.
I’m not so sure if Jaws is the best movie ever made – but it’s certainly the movie that I like to watch the most. It is as fascinating and multilayered as it is entertaining and depressing. As a researcher of political propaganda, I believe that Jaws had political purpose.
I have watched Jaws well over 50 times and still, with every viewing, I spot a new detail. Just last week I noticed that when police chief Brody (Roy Scheider) leaves his office after the first shark attack, he opens a gate in a white picket fence.
The white picket fence is often used to symbolise the American dream and Brody’s actions are likely intended to symbolise the disruption to the dream’s pursuit of capitalism as he seeks to close the beaches and potentially ruin the town’s tourism season.
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The film was released in June 1975. Just in time for summer holidays spent splashing in the waves (or not!). However, despite its continued acclaim, it didn’t win any of the big Academy Awards in 1976. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest dominated that year. Composer John Williams did, however, win the Oscar for best original score, which I assume you are now humming in your head.
The film is based on the book by Peter Benchley, published a year earlier in 1974. The book’s plot is somewhat different to the film. For example, Matt Hooper – the shark specialist played by Richard Dreyfuss in the film – is eaten by the shark, possibly as an act of retribution for his sins on land. He survives in the film.
Benchley was US president Lyndon Johnson’s (1963-1969) communications advisor before he became an author and so knew Washington’s priorities well. The film was then commissioned before the book had time to become a commercial success, which is somewhat unusual.
The trailer for Jaws.
The shark – powerful, mysterious, dark eyed, stalking the American people and killing without emotion – represents the threat posed by communism. The defeat of this “menace” will require the reunification of American society following its disastrous and fractious involvement in the Vietnam war and political scandals like Watergate.
Hence, the white public sector worker (Brody), the scientist (Hooper) and the military veteran (Quint), put their differences aside to band together on a rickety and ill-equipped boat – the Orca – which was possibly meant to symbolise the wobbling US of its time.
So while Jaws is a parable of societal repair, it is also a story of exclusively white unification amid external threats. The civil rights movement and Vietnam are inextricably linked through the service of young black men to the cause, and yet black characters are conspicuous by their absence from the book and the film. The only black presence in the book is an anonymous gardener who rapes wealthy white women.
Human will to dominate the natural world
In the book, the horror focuses upon human, rather than animal, behaviour. This comes in the form of political corruption, mafia influence, adultery, snobbery, racial prejudice, community disconnect and dishonest journalism. And it occurs as much on land as it does at sea. There is a large section midway through the book where the shark plays no part in the, at times, highly sexual plot.
Spielberg removed many of the undercurrents and insinuations of the book for his adaptation. The film gives less attention to life in the town of Amity and focuses largely on the shark and the horror of its actions.
The irony is that so many characters feel personally offended by an animal capable of instinct alone, when they as humans – capable of reason and choice – behave so badly towards each other. Indeed, the lack of an eco-centric character to defend the shark in both the book or the film is telling.
Brody yells for people to ‘get out of the water’.
The overwhelming horror is instead found in the treatment of the shark and the assertion that it must be killed rather than respected and left alone. Indeed, Jaws represents a parable of the modern human perception of battle against nature. Wherein Brody, Hooper and Quint, despite their differences, are united in their assumption of human superiority and their perspective that the problem ought to be dealt with using violence.
The story of Jaws also speaks to George Orwell’s essay Shooting an Elephant from 1936. It captured the author’s dilemma while working as a police officer in colonial Burma when an elephant disrupted the regular process of capitalism by trampling through a local market.
The philosophers Max Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno referred to the enlightenment as having created a “new barbarity” wherein humans are engaged in a project of destruction. Here then, a shark has had the audacity to behave in an inconvenient way to man’s profiteering from tourism and must be killed.
Indeed, one of the biggest criticisms of the film, which Spielberg has subsequently acknowledged, is its inaccurate representation of shark behaviour and the extent to which the film’s success contributed to the decline of the species.
Ultimately then, Jaws – the book, the film and the reaction of audiences to it – serves as a testimony to the role played by fear within human decision-making. The fear of “others”. Fear of the unknown. Fear of the natural world. Fear of loss of status or reputation.
It’s a testament to the susceptibility of humans to become insular and violent when they are scared, but also to the distorting influence of propagandists in determining what they ought to be afraid of.
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 from bookshop.org The Conversation UK may earn a commission.
Colin Alexander 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.
Did you know that around one in two women in the UK will experience symptoms of pelvic floor dysfunction at some point in their lives? And for women who engage in high-intensity exercise, that figure rises to 63%.
The female pelvic floor is a remarkable yet often overlooked structure: a complex “hammock” of muscles and ligaments that stretches from the front of the pelvis to the tailbone.
These muscles support the bladder, bowel and uterus, wrap around the openings of the urethra, vagina and anus and work in sync with your diaphragm, abdominal and back muscles to maintain posture, continence and core stability. It’s not an exaggeration to say your pelvic floor is the foundation of your body’s core.
Throughout a woman’s life, various events can challenge the pelvic floor. Pregnancy, for example, increases the weight of the uterus, placing added pressure on these muscles. The growing baby can cause the abdominal muscles to stretch and separate, naturally increasing the load on the pelvic floor. Childbirth, particularly vaginal delivery, may result in perineal trauma, directly injuring pelvic floor tissues.
However, contrary to popular belief, pelvic floor problems aren’t only caused by pregnancy and childbirth. In fact, research shows that intense physical activity, even in women who have never been pregnant or given birth, can contribute to dysfunction.
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Exercise is essential for overall health and is often recommended to ease symptoms of menopause and menstruation. But one side effect that’s not talked about enough is the effect that repeated strain, such as heavy lifting or high impact movement, can have on the pelvic floor. The increased intra-abdominal pressure during these activities can gradually weaken the pelvic floor muscles, especially if they’re not trained to cope.
Pelvic floor dysfunction often results when these muscles aren’t strong enough to match the workload demanded of them, whether from daily life, exercise, or other core muscles. And it’s a growing issue, affecting more women than ever before.
Common symptoms include leaking urine or faeces when coughing, sneezing or exercising, a dragging or heavy sensation in the lower abdomen or vaginal area, painful sex, changes in bowel habits, visible bulging in the vaginal area (a sign of prolapse). The emotional toll can also be significant, leading to embarrassment, anxiety, low confidence and a reluctance to stay active – all of which affect quality of life.
Prevention
The good news? Help is available and, better yet, pelvic floor dysfunction is often preventable.
If you’re experiencing symptoms, speak to your GP. You may be referred to a women’s health physiotherapist, available through both the NHS and private services. But whether you’re managing symptoms or hoping to avoid them in the first place, there are practical steps you can take:
Most importantly, build strength with regular pelvic floor exercises. Here’s how to do a basic pelvic floor contraction:
Imagine you’re trying to stop yourself passing wind – squeeze and lift the muscles around your back passage.
Then, imagine stopping the flow of urine mid-stream – engage those muscles too.
Now, lift both sets of muscles upwards inside your body, as if pulling them into the vagina.
Hold the contraction for a few seconds, then fully relax. Repeat.
If you’re just starting, it may be easier to practise while sitting. With time and consistency, you’ll be able to hold contractions for longer and incorporate them into your daily routine, like brushing your teeth or waiting for the kettle to boil.
Like any muscle, the pelvic floor gets stronger with training, making it more resilient to strain from childbirth, ageing, or strenuous activity. Research shows that a well-conditioned pelvic floor recovers faster from injury.
So be proud of your pelvic floor. Support it, strengthen it – and don’t forget to do those squeezes.
Holly Ingram 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.
Source: The Conversation – UK – By Brian Brivati, Visiting Professor of Contemporary History and Human Rights, Kingston University
Israel’s large-scale attack against Iran on June 13, which it conducted without UN security council approval, has prompted retaliation from Tehran. Both sides have traded strikes over the past few days, with over 200 Iranians and 14 Israelis killed so far.
The escalation has broader consequences. It further isolates institutions like the UN, International Criminal Court (ICC) and International Court of Justice (ICJ), which have found themselves increasingly sidelined as Israel’s assault on Gaza has progressed. These bodies now appear toothless.
The world appears to be facing an unprecedented upending of the post-1945 international legal order. Israel’s government is operating with a level of impunity rarely seen before. At the same time, the Trump administration is actively undermining the global institutions designed to enforce international law.
Other global powers, including Russia and China, are taking this opportunity to move beyond the western rules-based system. The combination of a powerful state acting with impunity and a superpower disabling the mechanisms of accountability marks a global inflection point.
It is a moment so stark that we may have to rethink what we thought we knew about the conduct of international relations and the management of conflict, both for the Palestinian struggle and the international system of justice built after the second world war.
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The Israeli government is, in addition to its preemptive air campaign against Iran’s nuclear programme, advancing with impunity on three other fronts. It is tightening its hold on Gaza, with the prospect of a lasting occupation increasingly possible.
Senior Israeli ministers have also outlined plans for the annexation of large parts of the occupied West Bank through settlement expansion. This is now proceeding unchecked. Israel confirmed plans in May to create 22 new settlements there, including the legalisation of those already built without government authorisation.
This is being accompanied by provocative legislation such as a bill that would hike taxes on foreign-funded non-governmental organisations. The Israeli government is also continuing its attempts to reduce the independence of the judiciary.
Hardline elements of Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s cabinet say they will collapse the government if he changes course.
The ICJ moved with urgency in response to Israel’s actions in Gaza and the West Bank. In January 2024, it found evidence that Palestinians in Gaza were at risk of genocide and ordered Israel to implement provisional measures to prevent further harm.
Then, in May 2024, as Israeli forces pressed an offensive, the ICJ issued another ruling ordering Israel to halt its military operation in the southern Gazan city of Rafah immediately. It also called on Israel to allow unimpeded humanitarian access to the Gaza Strip.
The court went further in July, issuing a landmark advisory opinion declaring Israel’s occupation of Palestinian territory illegal. The ICC took bold action by issuing arrest warrants for Netanyahu, his former defence minister Yoav Gallant, and the leaders of Hamas.
Disregarding international law
These dramatic attempts to enforce international law failed. Israel only agreed to a temporary ceasefire in Gaza in January 2025 when Washington insisted, demonstrating that the only possible brake on Israel remains the US.
But the second Trump administration is even more transactional than the first. It prioritises trade deals and strategic alliances – particularly with the Gulf states – over the enforcement of international legal norms.
In January, Trump issued an executive order authorising sanctions on the ICC over the court’s “illegitimate” actions against the US and its “close ally Israel”. These sanctions came into effect a little over a week before Israel launched its strikes on Iran.
Trump then withdrew the US from the UN human rights council and extended a funding ban on Unrwa, the UN relief agency for Palestinian refugees.
A further executive order issued in February directed the state department to withhold portions of the US contribution to the UN’s regular budget. And Trump also launched a 180-day review of all US-funded international organisations, foreshadowing further exits or funding cuts across the multilateral system.
In May 2025, the US and Israel then advanced a new aid mechanism for Gaza run by private security contractors operating in Israeli-approved “safe zones”. Aid is conditional on population displacement, with civilians in northern Gaza denied access unless they relocate.
This approach, which has been condemned by humanitarian organisations, contravenes established humanitarian principles of neutrality and impartiality.
In effect, one pillar of the post-war order is attacking another. The leading founder of the UN is now undermining the institution from within, wielding its security council veto to block action while simultaneously starving the organisation of resources. The US vetoed a UN security council resolution calling for a ceasefire in Gaza on June 4.
The implications of this turning point in the international order are already playing out across the globe. Russia is continuing its war of aggression in Ukraine despite rulings from the ICJ and extensive evidence of war crimes. It knows that enforcement mechanisms are weak and fragmented and the alternative Trumpian deal making can be played out indefinitely.
And China is escalating military pressure on Taiwan. It is employing grey-zone tactics, that do everything possible in provocation and disinformation below the threshold of open warfare, undeterred by legal commitments to peaceful resolution.
These cases are symptoms of a collapse in the credibility of the post-1945 legal order. Israel’s policy in Gaza and its attack on Iran are not exceptions but the acceleration. They are confirmation to other states that law no longer constrains power, institutions can be bypassed, and humanitarian principles can be used for political ends.
Brian Brivati is executive director of the Britain Palestine Project. He is writing this article in a personal capacity.
Source: The Conversation – UK – By Muhammad Wakil Shahzad, Associate Professor and Head of Subject, Mechanical and Construction Engineering, Northumbria University, Newcastle
Data centres are the invisible engines of our digital world. Every Google search, Netflix stream, cloud-stored photo or ChatGPT response passes through banks of high-powered computers housed in giant facilities scattered across the globe.
These datacentres consume a staggering amount of electricity and increasingly, a surprising amount of water. But unlike the water you use at home, much of the water used in datacentres never returns to the water reuse cycle. This silent drain is drawing concern from environmental scientists. One preprint study (not yet reviewed by other scientists) from 2023 predicted that by 2027 global AI use could consume more water in a year than half of that used by the UK in the same time.
Datacentres typically contain thousands of servers, stacked and running 24/7. These machines generate immense heat, and if not properly cooled, can overheat and fail. This happened in 2022 when the UK endured a heatwave that saw temperatures reach a record-breaking 40° Celsius in some areas, which knocked off Google and Oracle datacentres in London.
To prevent this, datacentres rely heavily on cooling systems, and that’s where water comes in.
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One of the most common methods for cooling datacentres involves mechanical chillers, which work like large fridges. These machines use a fluid called a refrigerant to carry heat away from the servers and release it through a condenser. A lot of water is lost as it turns into vapour during the cooling process, and it cannot be reused.
A 1 megawatt (MW) datacentre (that uses enough electricity to power 1,000 houses) can use up to 25.5 million litres annually. The total data centre capacity in the UK is estimated at approximately 1.6 gigawatts (GW). The global data centre capacity stands at around 59 GW.
Unlike water used in a dishwasher or a toilet, which often returns to a treatment facility to be recycled, the water in cooling systems literally vanishes into the air. It becomes water vapour and escapes into the atmosphere. This fundamental difference is why data centre water use is not comparable to that of typical household use, where water cycles back through municipal systems.
As moisture in the atmosphere that can return to the land as rain, the water datacentres use remains part of Earth’s water cycle – but not all rain water can be recovered.
The water is effectively lost to the local water balance, which is especially critical in drought-prone or water-scarce regions – where two-thirds of datacentres since 2022 have been built. The slow return of this water makes its use for cooling datacentres effectively non-renewable in the short term.
The rise of AI tools like ChatGPT, image generators and voice assistants has made datacentres work much harder. These systems need a lot more computing power, which creates more heat. To stay cool, data centres use more water than ever.
This growing demand is leading to a greater reliance on water-intensive cooling systems, driving up total water consumption even further. The International Energy Agency reported in April 2025 that datacentres now consume more than 560 billion litres of water annually, possibly rising to 1,200 billion litres a year by 2030.
What’s the alternative?
Another method, direct evaporative cooling, pulls hot air from datacentres and passes it through water-soaked pads. As the water evaporates, it cools the air, which is then sent back into server rooms.
While this method is energy-efficient, especially in warmer climates, the added moisture in the air can damage sensitive server equipment. This method requires additional systems to manage and control humidity, which necessitates more complex datacentre design.
My research team and I have developed another method which separates moist and dry air streams in datacentres with a thin aluminium foil, similar to kitchen foil. The hot, dry air passes close to the wet air stream, and heat is transferred through the foil without allowing any moisture to mix. This cools the server rooms in datacentres without adding humidity that could interfere with the equipment.
Trials of this method at Northumbria University’s datacentre have shown it can be more energy-efficient than conventional chillers, and use less water. Powered entirely by solar energy, the system operates without compressors or chemical refrigerants.
As AI continues to expand, the demand on datacentres is expected to skyrocket, along with their water use. We need a global shift in how we design, regulate and power digital infrastructure.
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Legal protection of abortion rights in England and Wales is fragile. Abortion has popular support and is readily available on the NHS, but has also generated a series of criminal investigations. Nicola Packer is one of the most recent abortion-seekers facing criminalisation rather than care. She was found innocent in May after a five year ordeal.
Amid concerns about investigations for illegal abortions, MPs may vote on June 17 on legislative action to decriminalise abortion. Political opinion is divided, however, on how to do it. In the absence of a broader push for the kind of inquiries that produced full decriminalisation in Northern Ireland in 2019, MPs will consider two different legal proposals: NC1 and NC20.
In England and Wales, people do not have explicit abortion rights as a matter of domestic law. They may feel that they have when they get good abortion care. But as a matter of law, abortion is only permissible under the Abortion Act 1967 if two conditions are met.
Two doctors must approve, and the case must meet the legal grounds outlined in the act. These are that there must be a risk to health up to 24 weeks gestation or, after 24 weeks, a risk to life, a risk of grave permanent injury to health or a serious foetal anomaly.
If these conditions are not met, then someone who voluntarily ends a pregnancy could be criminally liable. This is because old criminal provisions against abortion – under the Offences against the Person Act 1861 and the Infant Life (Preservation) Act 1929 – are still on the books.
Each of the two amendments being put forward would decriminalise abortion by amending a government bill that is already making its way through parliament, the crime and policing bill, rather than by adopting a standalone piece of legislation for abortion.
The two amendments
NC1, proposed by Labour MP Tonia Antoniazzi, is for a partial decriminalisation that would entail the “removal of women from the criminal law related to abortion”. This would put a stop to criminal investigations of women and pregnant people on suspicion of abortion, and mean that abortion-seekers no longer face the possibility of prosecution.
The proposed amendment has the support of over 130 MPs, has been negotiated with and has the backing of abortion providers, including the British Pregnancy Advisory Service (Bpas), MSI Reproductive Choices and the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists. But it would not repeal or remove the existing criminal law. The criminal offences in the Offences against the Person Act and the Infant Life (Preservation) Act would remain in place.
Neither would abortion providers, or those who assist or support abortion-seekers, including friends and family buying abortion pills on the internet, be exempted from criminal liability.
NC20, the second amendment, is for full decriminalisation and is proposed by MP Stella Creasy. It has the support of over 100 MPs, but apparently not the support of abortion providers according to Bpas.
Creasy’s proposal is more complex and wider in scope. This amendment would fully decriminalise abortion by repealing the criminal provisions altogether. It would maintain the Abortion Act 1967 as the legal framework for abortion care, so the legal grounds for abortion would remain the same.
The proposed amendments to decriminalise abortion come after several high-profile cases. Brizmaker/Shutterstock
Most importantly, this amendment aims to make abortion a human right, and protect the law from being restricted in the future. It does this by requiring that the secretary of state apply to England and Wales the human rights recommendations that led to decriminalisation in Northern Ireland. These are outlined in a 2018 UN report on the elimination of discrimination against women.
The report’s recommendations establish full decriminalisation as a baseline standard that must be achieved. They also require minimum legal standards of allowing abortion in cases where there is a risk to health, where the pregnancy results from rape, and in cases of severe foetal anomaly.
The Abortion Act 1967 already delivers these standards. But the recommendations – and Creasy’s proposed amendment – would set out a framework that could be applied in the future to other questions around bodily autonomy.
No change in the law will happen immediately after the vote as the crime and policing bill has several more stages to pass in parliament. But the debate should give observers an indication of the direction of travel when it comes to the future of reproductive rights in England and Wales.
Ruth Fletcher is Chairperson of the Abortion Support Network.
