The Tasmanian government has called a state election for July 19, the fourth in a little over seven years.
Following days of high drama, Governor Barbara Baker finally granted Liberal Premier Jeremy Rockliff’s election request, saying there was no other course of action to break the deadlock gripping Tasmanian politics:
I make this grant because I am satisfied there is no real possibility that an alternative government can be formed.
The ballot will be the second state election in just 16 months.
So how did we get here? And what happens next?
Dark political mofo
The Dark Mofo festival kicked off last week, bringing to Hobart its usual mix of weird, dark, and violent modern art. But in the halls of Tasmanian parliament, a similarly macabre and vicious spectacle was playing out.
I have written a more detailed analysis of events previously, but here’s the quick version.
On June 3, the Labor opposition moved a motion of no confidence in Rockliff. After two days of acrimonious parliamentary debate, the motion passed on the casting vote of the speaker.
An election looked inevitable because Rockliff refused to step aside and Opposition Leader Dean Winter ruled out doing a deal with the Greens to govern in minority.
Parliament returned briefly to pass emergency supply bills, which were needed after the no confidence motion derailed the recent state budget.
Shortly afterwards, Rockliff asked the governor to dissolve parliament and call an election. This request has now been granted after a few days of deliberation.
How did it come to this?
It’s been a rocky road for the Liberal government since the
last state election in March 2024. Holding only 14 of the House of Assembly’s 35 seats, it has governed in minority thanks to confidence and supply deals with five crossbenchers.
This tenuous arrangement was under constant pressure. Labor and the crossbench installed Michelle O’Byrne as speaker, and in the second half of 2024 passed three pieces of legislation against the government’s will.
In August 2024, the implosion of the Jacqui Lambie Network and the forced resignation of Michael Ferguson as deputy premier and treasurer added further complications.
Against this backdrop, the government has faced a rapidly
deteriorating fiscal situation. This is partly the legacy of the COVID pandemic, compounded by recent global uncertainty. However, as economist Saul Eslake notes, the roots of the problem can be found in the policy choices made by previous state Liberal governments.
Policy setbacks
Even considering the challenging context, the government has
done itself few favours. The ongoing project to replace the ageing Spirit of Tasmania ferries has been mired in cost blowouts and poor planning.
And of course, there is the saga over the highly contentious $945 million stadium to support a Tassie team in the AFL.
Most importantly, though, there has been little progress on the deep structural reforms needed to address the state’s poor health and education outcomes, housing crisis, cost-of-living challenges, and worsening budget situation.
On the positive side, the government points to achievements recruiting much-needed frontline healthcare workers, increasing the supply of social and affordable housing, and a historically low unemployment rate.
What happens now?
The campaign will be a political version of a classic children’s party game: pin the blame on the party.
Liberal and Labor will both claim the early election is the fault of the other, while the debate over the stadium will likely continue to distract from Tasmania’s other, far more important challenges.
But the circumstances of this election mean we can’t rely too much on previous trends. The drop in Liberal support is partly driven by northern Tasmanians’ dislike of the Hobart stadium. However, that won’t necessarily help Labor, because they also remain committed to the project.
Labor will be energised by the federal party’s recent victory. But the most recent polling shows the state branch is barely more popular than the Liberals. Winter lags Rockliff as preferred premier 44%-32%, with a high “never heard of” rating of 24%.
The Greens could benefit from being the only notable party opposed to the stadium, but will be fighting relentless Labor and Liberal warnings about the perils of forming another minority government.
None of this points to the July 19 election producing a stable majority government. In fact, there is a strong likelihood the Tasmanian electorate – grumpy about being forced to the polls in mid-winter – will punish both major parties.
This could result in an even larger and more diverse crossbench, requiring deft and collaborative negotiations to stitch together the numbers to form government.
While the theatre of the campaign plays out, the ambitious structural reforms that Tasmania desperately needs seem further away than ever.
The drama is worthy of Dark Mofo, but Tasmanians are already tired of the performance.
Robert Hortle does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Our brains swear for good reasons: to vent, cope, boost our grit and feel closer to those around us. Swear words can act as social glue and play meaningful roles in how people communicate, connect and express themselves – both in person, and online.
In our new research published in Lingua, we analysed more than 1.7 billion words of online language across 20 English-speaking regions. We identified 597 different swear word forms – from standard words, to creative spellings like “4rseholes”, to acronyms like “wtf”.
The findings challenge a familiar stereotype. Australians – often thought of as prolific swearers – are actually outdone by Americans and Brits, both in how often they swear, and in how many users swear online.
Facts and figures
Our study focused on publicly available web data (such as news articles, organisational websites, government or institutional publications, and blogs – but excluding social media and private messaging). We found vulgar words made up 0.036% of all words in the dataset from the United States, followed by 0.025% in the British data and 0.022% in the Australian data.
Although vulgar language is relatively rare in terms of overall word frequency, it was used by a significant number of individuals.
Between 12% and 13.3% of Americans, around 10% of Brits, and 9.4% of Australians used at least one vulgar word in their data. Overall, the most frequent vulgar word was “fuck” – with all its variants, it amounted to a stunning 201 different forms.
We focused on online language that didn’t include social media, because large-scale comparisons need robust, purpose-built datasets. In our case, we used the Global Web-Based English (GloWbE) corpus, which was specifically designed to compare how English is used across different regions online.
So how much were our findings influenced by the online data we used?
Telling results come from research happening at the same time as ours. One study analysed the use of “fuck” in social networks on X, examining how network size and strength influence swearing in the UK, US and Australia.
It used data from 5,660 networks with more than 435,000 users and 7.8 billion words and found what we did. Americans use “fuck” most frequently, while Australians use it the least, but with the most creative spelling variations (some comfort for anyone feeling let down by our online swearing stats).
Teasing apart cultural differences
Americans hold relatively conservative attitudes toward public morality, and their high swearing rates are surprising. The cultural contradiction may reflect the country’s strong individualistic culture. Americans often value personal expression – especially in private or anonymous settings like the internet.
Significantly, the only religious-based swear word in our dataset, “damn”, was used most frequently by Americans.
Research suggests swearing is more acceptable in Australian public discourse. Certainly, Australia’s public airing of swear words often takes visitors by surprise. The long-running road safety slogan “If you drink, then drive, you’re a bloody idiot” is striking – such language is rare in official messaging elsewhere.
Australians may be comfortable swearing in person, but our findings indicate they dial it back online – surprising for a nation so fond of its vernacular.
In terms of preferences for specific forms of vulgarity, Americans showed a strong preference for variations of “ass(hole)”, the Irish favored “feck”, the British preferred “cunt”, and Pakistanis leaned toward “butt(hole)”.
The only statistically significant aversion we found was among Americans, who tended to avoid the word “bloody” (folk wisdom claims the word is blasphemous).
Being fluent in swearing
People from countries where English is the dominant language – such as the US, Britain, Australia, Canada, New Zealand and Ireland – tend to swear more frequently and with more lexical variety than people in regions where English is less dominant like India, Pakistan, Hong Kong, Ghana or the Philippines. This pattern holds for both frequency and creativity in swearing.
But Singapore ranked fourth in terms of frequency of swearing in our study, just behind Australia and ahead of New Zealand, Ireland and Canada. English in Singapore is increasingly seen not as a second language, but as a native language, and as a tool for identity, belonging and creativity. Young Singaporeans use social swearing to push back against authority, especially given the government’s strict rules on public language.
One possible reason we saw less swearing among non-native English speakers is that it is rarely taught. Despite its frequency and social utility, swearing – alongside humour and informal speech – is often left out of language education.
Cursing comes naturally
Cultural, social and technological shifts are reshaping linguistic norms, blurring the already blurry lines between informal and formal, private and public language. Just consider the Aussie contributions to the July Oxford English Dictionary updates: expressions like “to strain the potatoes” (to urinate), “no wuckers” and “no wucking furries” (from “no fucking worries”).
Swearing and vulgarity aren’t just crass or abusive. While they can be used harmfully, research consistently shows they serve important communicative functions – colourful language builds rapport, expresses humour and emotion, signals solidarity and eases tension.
It’s clear that swearing isn’t just a bad habit that can be easily kicked, like nail-biting or smoking indoors. Besides, history shows that telling people not to swear is one of the best ways to keep swearing alive and well.
Martin Schweinberger has received funding from from the Centre for Digital Cultures and Society and the School of Languages and Cultures at the University of Queensland. He is currently funded by the Language Data Commons of Australia, which has received investment from the Australian Research Data Commons, funded by the National Collaborative Research Infrastructure Strategy.
Kate Burridge 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.
Even the most ardent supporters of the alliance with the United States – the notional foundation of Australian security for more than 70 years – must be having some misgivings about the second coming of Donald Trump.
If they’re not, they ought to read the two essays under review here. They offer a host of compelling reasons why a reassessment of the costs, benefits and possible future trajectory of the alliance is long overdue.
Review: After America: Australia and the new world order – Emma Shortis (Australia Institute Press), Hard New World: Our Post-American Future; Quarterly Essay 98 – Hugh White (Black Inc)
And yet, notwithstanding the cogency and timeliness of the critiques offered by Emma Shortis and Hugh White, it seems unlikely either of these will be read, much less acted upon, by those Shortis describes as the “mostly men in suits or uniforms, with no democratic accountability” who make security policy on our behalf.
White, emeritus professor of strategic studies at the ANU, was the principal author of Australia’s Defence White Paper in 2000. Despite having been a prominent member of the defence establishment, it is unlikely even his observations will prove any more palatable to its current incumbents.
Shortis, an historian and writer, is director of the Australia Institute’s International & Security Affairs Program. She is also a young woman, and while this shouldn’t matter, I suspect it does; at least to the “mostly men” who guard the nation from a host of improbable threats while ignoring what is arguably the most likely and important one: climate change.
The age of insecurity
To Shortis’s great credit, she begins her essay with a discussion of a “world on fire” in which the Trump administration is “locking in a bleaker future”.
This matters for both generational and geographical reasons. While we live in what is arguably the safest place on the planet, the country has the rare distinction of regularly experiencing once-in-100-year floods and droughts, sometimes simultaneously.
If that’s not a threat to security, especially of the young, it’s hard to know what is. It’s not one the current government or any other in this country has ever taken seriously enough.
White gives a rather perfunctory acknowledgement of this reality, reflecting an essentially traditional understanding of security – even if some of his conclusions will induce conniptions in Canberra.
While suggesting Trump is “the most prodigious liar in history”, White thinks he’s done Australia a favour by “puncturing the complacency” surrounding the alliance and our unwillingness to contemplate a world in which the US is not the reliable bedrock of security.
Shortis doubts the US ever was a trustworthy or reliable ally. This helps explain what she calls the “strategy of pre-emptive capitulation”, in which Australian policymakers fall over themselves to appear useful and supportive to their “great and powerful friend”. Former prime minister John Howard’s activation of the ANZUS alliance in the wake of September 11 and the disastrous decision to take part in the war in Iraq is perhaps the most egregious example of this unfortunate national proclivity.
White reminds us that all alliances are always transactional. Despite talk of a “history of mateship”, it’s vital to recognise if the great power doesn’t think something is in its “national interest”, it won’t be doing favours for allies. No matter how ingratiating and obliging they may be. While such observations may be unwelcome in Canberra, hopefully they won’t come as a revelation.
Although White is one of Australia’s most astute critics of the conventional wisdom, sceptics and aspiring peace-builders will find little to cheer in his analysis.
A good deal of his essay is taken up with the strategic situations in Europe and Asia. The discussion offers a penetrating, but rather despair-inducing insight into humanity’s collective predicament: only by credibly threatening our notional foes with nuclear Armageddon can we hope to keep the peace.
The problem we now face, White argues, is the likes of Russia and China are beginning to doubt America’s part in the “balance of resolve”. During the Cold War both sides were confident about the other side’s ability and willingness to blow them to pieces.
Now mutual destruction is less assured. While some of us might think this was a cause for cautious celebration, White suggests it fatally undermines the deterrent effect of nuclear weapons.
Even before Trump reappeared, this was a source of angst and/or uncertainty for strategists around the world. The principle underpinning international order in a world in which nuclear weapons exist, according to White, is that
a nuclear power can be stopped, but only by an unambiguous demonstration of willingness to fight a nuclear war to stop it.
Trump represents a suitably existential threat to this cheery doctrine. Europeans have belatedly recognised the US is no longer reliable and they are responsible for their own security.
Likewise, an ageing Xi Jinping may want to assure his position in China’s pantheon of great leaders by forcibly returning Taiwan to the motherland. It would be an enormous gamble, of course, but given Trump’s admiration for Xi, and Trump’s apparent willingness to see the world carved up into 19th century-style spheres of influence, it can’t be ruled out.
Australia’s options
If there’s one thing both authors agree on it’s that the AUKUS nuclear submarine project, the notional centrepiece of Australia’s future security is vastly overrated. It’s either a “disaster” (Shortis) or “insignificant” (White).
Likewise, they agree the US is only going to help Australia if it’s judged to be in America’s interest to do so. Recognising quite what an ill-conceived, ludicrously expensive, uncertain project AUKUS is, and just how unreliable a partner the US has become under Trump, might be a useful step on the path to national strategic self-awareness.
Shortis thinks some members of the Trump administration appear to be “aligned with Russia”. Tying ourselves closer to the US, she writes, “does not make us safer”. A major rethink of, and debate about, Australia’s security policy is clearly necessary.
Policymakers also ought to take seriously White’s arguments about the need to reconfigure the armed forces to defend Australia independently in an increasingly uncertain international environment.
Perhaps the hardest idea for Australia’s unimaginative strategic elites to grasp is that, as White points out,
Asia’s future, and Australia’s, will not be decided in Washington. It will be decided in Asia.
Former prime minister Paul Keating’s famous remark “Australia needs to seek its security in Asia rather than from Asia” remains largely unheeded. Despite plausible suggestions about developing closer strategic ties with Indonesia and even cooperating with China to offer leadership on climate change, some ideas remain sacrosanct and alternatives remain literally inconceivable.
Even if we take a narrow view of the nature of security – one revolving around possible military threats to Australia – US Defence Secretary Pete Hesgeth’s demands for greater defence spending on our part confirm White’s point that,
it is classic Trump to expect more and more from allies while he offers them less and less. This is the dead end into which our “America First” defence policy has led us.
Quite so.
Australia’s strategic elites have locked us into the foreign and strategic policies of an increasingly polarised, authoritarian and unpredictable regime.
But as Shortis observes, we cannot be confident about our ability, or the world’s for that matter, to “just ride Trump out”, and hope everything will return to normal afterwards.
It is entirely possible the international situation may get worse – possibly much worse – with or without Trump in the White House.
The reality is American democracy may not survive another four years of Trump and the coterie of startlingly ill-qualified, inhumane, self-promoting chancers who make up much of his administration.
A much-needed national debate
Both authors think attempts to “smother” a serious national debate about defence policy in Australia (White), and the security establishment’s obsession with secrecy (Shortis), are the exact opposite of what this country needs at this historical juncture. They’re right.
Several senior members of Australia’s security community have assured me if I only knew what they did I’d feel very differently about our strategic circumstances.
Really? One thing I do know is that we’re spending far too much time – and money! – acting on what Shortis describes as a “shallow and ungenerous understanding of what ‘security’ really is”.
We really could stop the conflicts in Ukraine and Gaza if Xi had a word with Putin and the US stopped supplying Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu with the weapons and money to slaughter women and children. But climate change would still be coming to get us.
More importantly, global warming will get worse before it gets better, even in the unlikely event that the “international community” (whoever that may be) agrees on meaningful collective action tomorrow.
You may not agree with all of the ideas and suggestions contained in these essays, but in their different ways they are vital contributions to a much-needed national debate.
An informed and engaged public is a potential asset, not something to be frightened of, after all. Who knows, it may be possible to come up with some genuinely progressive, innovative ideas about what sort of domestic and international policies might be appropriate for an astonishingly fortunate country with no enemies.
Perhaps Australia could even offer an example of the sort of creative, independent middle power diplomacy a troubled world might appreciate and even emulate.
But given our political and strategic elites can’t free themselves from the past, it is difficult to see them dealing imaginatively with the threat of what Shortis calls the looming “environmental catastrophe”.
Mark Beeson 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.
Our brains swear for good reasons: to vent, cope, boost our grit and feel closer to those around us. Swear words can act as social glue and play meaningful roles in how people communicate, connect and express themselves – both in person, and online.
In our new research published in Lingua, we analysed more than 1.7 billion words of online language across 20 English-speaking regions. We identified 597 different swear word forms – from standard words, to creative spellings like “4rseholes”, to acronyms like “wtf”.
The findings challenge a familiar stereotype. Australians – often thought of as prolific swearers – are actually outdone by Americans and Brits, both in how often they swear, and in how many users swear online.
Facts and figures
Our study focused on publicly available web data (such as news articles, organisational websites, government or institutional publications, and blogs – but excluding social media and private messaging). We found vulgar words made up 0.036% of all words in the dataset from the United States, followed by 0.025% in the British data and 0.022% in the Australian data.
Although vulgar language is relatively rare in terms of overall word frequency, it was used by a significant number of individuals.
Between 12% and 13.3% of Americans, around 10% of Brits, and 9.4% of Australians used at least one vulgar word in their data. Overall, the most frequent vulgar word was “fuck” – with all its variants, it amounted to a stunning 201 different forms.
We focused on online language that didn’t include social media, because large-scale comparisons need robust, purpose-built datasets. In our case, we used the Global Web-Based English (GloWbE) corpus, which was specifically designed to compare how English is used across different regions online.
So how much were our findings influenced by the online data we used?
Telling results come from research happening at the same time as ours. One study analysed the use of “fuck” in social networks on X, examining how network size and strength influence swearing in the UK, US and Australia.
It used data from 5,660 networks with more than 435,000 users and 7.8 billion words and found what we did. Americans use “fuck” most frequently, while Australians use it the least, but with the most creative spelling variations (some comfort for anyone feeling let down by our online swearing stats).
Teasing apart cultural differences
Americans hold relatively conservative attitudes toward public morality, and their high swearing rates are surprising. The cultural contradiction may reflect the country’s strong individualistic culture. Americans often value personal expression – especially in private or anonymous settings like the internet.
Significantly, the only religious-based swear word in our dataset, “damn”, was used most frequently by Americans.
Research suggests swearing is more acceptable in Australian public discourse. Certainly, Australia’s public airing of swear words often takes visitors by surprise. The long-running road safety slogan “If you drink, then drive, you’re a bloody idiot” is striking – such language is rare in official messaging elsewhere.
Australians may be comfortable swearing in person, but our findings indicate they dial it back online – surprising for a nation so fond of its vernacular.
In terms of preferences for specific forms of vulgarity, Americans showed a strong preference for variations of “ass(hole)”, the Irish favored “feck”, the British preferred “cunt”, and Pakistanis leaned toward “butt(hole)”.
The only statistically significant aversion we found was among Americans, who tended to avoid the word “bloody” (folk wisdom claims the word is blasphemous).
Being fluent in swearing
People from countries where English is the dominant language – such as the US, Britain, Australia, Canada, New Zealand and Ireland – tend to swear more frequently and with more lexical variety than people in regions where English is less dominant like India, Pakistan, Hong Kong, Ghana or the Philippines. This pattern holds for both frequency and creativity in swearing.
But Singapore ranked fourth in terms of frequency of swearing in our study, just behind Australia and ahead of New Zealand, Ireland and Canada. English in Singapore is increasingly seen not as a second language, but as a native language, and as a tool for identity, belonging and creativity. Young Singaporeans use social swearing to push back against authority, especially given the government’s strict rules on public language.
One possible reason we saw less swearing among non-native English speakers is that it is rarely taught. Despite its frequency and social utility, swearing – alongside humour and informal speech – is often left out of language education.
Cursing comes naturally
Cultural, social and technological shifts are reshaping linguistic norms, blurring the already blurry lines between informal and formal, private and public language. Just consider the Aussie contributions to the July Oxford English Dictionary updates: expressions like “to strain the potatoes” (to urinate), “no wuckers” and “no wucking furries” (from “no fucking worries”).
Swearing and vulgarity aren’t just crass or abusive. While they can be used harmfully, research consistently shows they serve important communicative functions – colourful language builds rapport, expresses humour and emotion, signals solidarity and eases tension.
It’s clear that swearing isn’t just a bad habit that can be easily kicked, like nail-biting or smoking indoors. Besides, history shows that telling people not to swear is one of the best ways to keep swearing alive and well.
Martin Schweinberger has received funding from from the Centre for Digital Cultures and Society and the School of Languages and Cultures at the University of Queensland. He is currently funded by the Language Data Commons of Australia, which has received investment from the Australian Research Data Commons, funded by the National Collaborative Research Infrastructure Strategy.
Kate Burridge 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.
Meanwhile, beyond the farm gate, consumer tastes are shifting to a range of dairy substitutes. Interest and investment in alternative dairy proteins is accelerating.
Earlier this month, industry figures warned consumers to prepare for price rises amid expected shortages of milk, butter and cheese. Already mired in uncertainty, the dairy industry is now being forced to confront some tough questions about its future head on.
Dairy under pressure
Dairy is Australia’s third-largest rural industry. It produces more than A$6 billion worth of milk each year, and directly employs more than 30,000 people.
But the sector has been under sustained pressure. This year alone, repeated extreme weather events have affected key dairy-producing regions in southern and eastern parts of Australia.
In New South Wales, dairy farmers face increased pressure from floods. In May, many regions had their monthly rainfall records broken – some by huge margins.
All of this heavily impacts farm productivity. Agriculture has long been predicated on our ability to predict climate conditions and grow food or rear animals according to the cycles of nature.
As climate change disrupts weather patterns, this makes both short and long-term planning for the sector a growing challenge.
At the farm level, dairy farmers are feeling the impacts of high operating costs. Compared to other types of farming (such as sheep or beef), dairy farms require more plant, machinery and equipment capital, mostly in the form of specialised milking machinery.
The price of milk also has many farmers concerned. The modest increase in farmgate milk prices – just announced by dairy companies for the start of the next financial year – left many farmers disappointed. Some say the increase isn’t enough to cover rising operating costs.
Zooming out, there are concerns about a lack of family succession planning for dairy farms. Many young people are wary of taking on such burdens, and the total number of Australian dairy farms has been in steady decline – from more than 6,000 in 2015 to just 4,163 in 2023.
What’s the solution?
Is there a way to make the dairy industry more productive, profitable and sustainable? Australian Dairy Farmers is the national policy and advocacy group supporting the profitability and sustainability of the sector.
investment in on-farm technologies to improve efficiencies
funding for water security
upskilling programs for farmers
support for succession planning.
Industry figures have warned consumers to brace for possible increases in the cost of dairy products. wisely/Shutterstock
However, as the industry struggles to grapple with a changing climate, financial strain and mental health pressures, there should also be pathways for incumbent farmers to transition, either to farming dairy differently (such as by reducing herd sizes) or exiting out of dairy farming and into something else.
Dairy without the cows
The push to make dairy production more sustainable and efficient faces its own competition. A number of techniques in development promise dairy products without the cows, through cellular agriculture – and more specifically, “precision fermentation”.
And last year, Australian company All G secured approval to sell precision fermentation lactoferrin (a key dairy ingredient in baby formula) in China – another animal-free milk product.
It is important to note that cost and scalability for cellular agriculture remains a challenge.
Nonetheless, Australia’s rapidly growing non-dairy milk market – soy, oat, and so on – is now worth over $600 million annually. This reflects the global shift towards plant-based options driven by health, environmental, and ethical concerns.
Is there a win-win outcome?
Is there a possible future where more funding is given to produce milk at scale through precision fermentation while we also look after incumbent dairy workers, farms and the rural sector at large to diversify or leave the sector altogether?
Some believe this future is possible. This is what researchers call “protein pluralism” – a market where traditional and alternative proteins coexist. Long-term planning from both the dairy industry and government would be needed.
Remember, while techniques like precision fermentation offer the promise of animal-free dairy products, their benefits are largely yet to materialise. How they will ultimately benefit the whole of society remains speculative.
What we can do now
For this reason, some scholars have argued we should prioritise actions that can be taken now. This includes support for practices such as agroecology, which seek to address injustice and inequity in food systems to help empower primary food producers.
A recent study found Australian dairy farmers were interested in financial and technical advice to make decisions about where they take their business in future.
Despite growing recognition of the challenges facing the dairy sector, responses from government and alternative dairy remain uneven. A more coordinated approach is needed for affected farmers, helping them adapt or diversify with guidance from government and industry experts.
Milena Bojovic volunteers with Farm Transitions Australia, a registered charity which helps Australian dairy and beef farmers facing hardship and seeking a transition from the industry. She is affiliated with ARC Centre for Excellence in Synthetic Biology.
Higher productivity has quickly emerged as an economic reform priority for Labor’s second term.
Prime Minister Anthony Albanese has laid down some markers for a productivity round table in August, saying he wants it to build the “broadest possible base” for further economic reform.
The government is right to focus on productivity. Improving economic efficiency will increase real wages, help bring down inflation and interest rates, and improve living standards.
Treasurer Jim Chalmers is flagging a broad productivity agenda, but acknowledges the rewards will take time to percolate through the economy:
Human capital, competition policy, technology, energy, the care economy – these are where we are going to find the productivity gains, and not quickly, but over the medium term.
Making the economy operate more efficiently is simple in concept. But Albanese and Chalmers would be well aware productivity is hard to measure, and even more difficult to shift.
The numbers are fraught
What do we mean by productivity growth? And how will it help lift the economy? The authors of the bestselling new book Abundance offer this neat explanation:
People need to think up new ideas. Factories need to innovate new processes. These new ideas and new processes must be encoded into new technologies. All this is grouped under the sterile label of productivity: How much more can we produce with the same number of people and resources?
At its most basic, productivity measures outputs divided by inputs – what we produce compared to the resources such as labour and capital used to produce it.
But large parts of the “non-market” economy including the public service, health care and education are excluded from the official productivity figures.
The Australian Bureau of Statistics is working to address the gap in the data. For example, it is developing “experimental estimates” for the health sector, which suggests hospital productivity has fallen.
However measurement is fraught. If a nurse, for instance, who previously cared for four patients now looks after eight, is that a productivity improvement? Or a drop in standard of care?
Flatlining productivity
Australian productivity growth has averaged just 0.4% a year since 2015 – the lowest rate in 60 years.
The exception was during COVID, when industries with low productivity, such as accommodation and food, were shut down and those with high productivity – such as IT and communications – thrived.
The objective must be to return to, or even surpass, historical levels of productivity. However, it won’t be easy given economists have no clear idea why productivity growth has fallen in Australia and overseas.
Theories include:
measurement problems
new industries
decline in business investment in equipment and technology
more service industries, where productivity is lower
the easy reforms have all been done.
No shortage of advice
Productivity is multidimensional, with an absurd number of moving parts. It depends on skills, technology, investment, knowledge, management, and a host of other factors. Like the movie, it’s “everything, everywhere all at once”.
This poses a dilemma for the Treasurer. Most suggestions on their own would make some difference. Doing all of them would make a huge difference. Alas, government cannot do everything. It must choose where to apply its limited resources.
Beyond money and time, the government must also have appetite for the fight.
Interest groups typically support productivity reforms in principle, but resist them if they are directly affected. Every inefficient regulation or program has a supporter somewhere.
Five pillars
Jim Chalmers does not need another shopping list. He needs help to sort through options and set priorities for which fights to pick. To this end, in December year he tasked the Productivity Commission with new inquiries into the five main drivers – “pillars” – of higher productivity.
Yet the Albanese government has already been handed a comprehensive blueprint for productivity reform.
In March 2023, the Productivity Commission released the Advancing Prosperity report, which it described as a “road map”.
However, it had more of a shopping list feel, incorporating 71 recommendations and 29 “reform directives”. Many were of the “should” variety, lacking a detailed plan of how to do them.
Roughly speaking, any government only has bandwidth for one big and a few small reforms a term. It cannot implement more than 70, even if that’s ideal.
Productivity reform will succeed if it involves only a few changes – preferably those that deliver the most improvement for the least complaint.
Some proposed measures are desirable but controversial. The tax system, for example, is crying out for improvement, but the government is unlikely to take it on.
Reforming occupational licences to make it easier for tradies to move states is a more modest aim. It would not generate the same productivity gains, but politically would be simpler to implement.
Nothing to fear
Finally, some words of caution.
Productivity is not code for exploiting workers. As The Guardian recently noted:
When most people hear the word ‘productivity’ they think of their boss wanting them to take on more duties for the same pay. That’s not the case. It’s about getting more out of the hours you work.
Working harder to get the same result is in fact a drop in productivity. Working shorter hours for the same outputs is productivity growth, with the benefits seen in better work-life balance.
Nor is productivity just about producing more outputs. Who needs more useless stuff?
And statistics can mislead, because they measure the value of production, not the quality. A broader accounting for production, incorporating society and the environment, would help the productivity debate avoid this trap.
Albanese and Chalmers readily acknowledge the government can do more on productivity. Anyone with an interest in driving a more efficient economy, higher real wages and better living standards will hold them to their word.
This article is part of The Conversation’s series examining the productivity dilemma.
Stephen Bartos 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.
President Donald Trump is trying to unravel the signature climate policy of his predecessor Joe Biden, the Inflation Reduction Act, as part of a sweeping bid to dismantle the United States’ climate ambition.
The Inflation Reduction Act, or IRA, is a A$530 billion suite of measures that aims to turbocharge clean energy investment and slash emissions in the US. Once hailed as a game-changer for the global clean energy transition, it set in train a fierce international competition for renewable energy investment.
But the policy is now hanging by a thread, after the US House of Representatives last month narrowly passed a bill to repeal many of its clean energy measures.
Should the bill pass the Senate, billions of dollars in renewables investment once destined for the US could be looking for a new home. Now is the time for the Albanese government to woo investors with a bolder program of climate action in Australia.
The Trump administration is seeking to wind back Biden’s signature climate policy. Jemal Countess/Getty Images for Climate Power 2020
What is the Inflation Reduction Act?
The Inflation Reduction Act passed US Congress in 2022. It legislated billions of dollars in tax credits for solar panels, wind turbines, batteries and geothermal plants, among other technologies.
It included around A$13 billion in rebates for Americans to electrify their homes, tax credits of almost A$11,000 to electrify their cars, and billions more to establish a “green bank” and target agricultural emissions.
The money flowed. Last year, almost A$420 billion was invested in the manufacture and deployment of clean energy – double that in 2021, the year before the legislation passed.
Even in the first quarter of this year, under a Trump presidency, A$103 billion was invested in clean energy tech – an increase on the first quarter results of 2024. Electric vehicle manufacturing projects, especially batteries, were standout performers.
Then US president Joe Biden in August 2023, celebrating the first anniversary of the Inflation Reduction Act. The policy aimed to turbocharge the clean energy transition. Win McNamee/Getty Images
But then came the proposed repeal. The Trump administration wants to gut tax credits for clean energy technologies. The measures passed the House of Representatives and must now clear the US Senate, where the Republicans have a margin of three votes.
The potential economic damage has sparked concern even among Trump’s own troops. Some Republicans last week reportedly urged the scaling back of the cuts, despite voting for the bill in the House.
Opportunities for Australia
After the IRA was enacted, many countries followed the US’ lead – including Australia’s Albanese government, which legislated the A$22.7 billion Future Made in Australia package.
So how will Trump’s unravelling of the policy affect the rest of the world?
The economic impacts are still being modelled. Some studies suggest the US could cede A$123 billion in investment to other countries.
The US axing of tax credits for battery and solar technology paves the way for nations such as China and South Korea to capitalise – given, for example, they already dominate battery manufacturing.
Australia should be doing its utmost to attract investors that no longer see the US as an option. Our existing policies are a start, but they are not sufficient.
In February this year, Labor increased the investment capacity of the Clean Energy Finance Corporation – Australia’s “green bank” – by A$2 billion. But more will be needed if the government is serious about crowding-in private investment in low-emission technologies exiting the US.
The government would also be wise to remove incentives that increase fossil fuel use. This includes the diesel fuel rebate, which encourages the use of diesel-powered trucks on mine sites. Fortescue Metals this week announced a push for the subsidy to be wound back – potentially providing the political opening Labor needs.
What about nuclear?
Trump has also promised a “nuclear renaissance”, signing four executive orders designed to reinvigorate the US nuclear energy industry.
In fact, his cuts to the Loan Programs Office – which helps finance new energy projects including nuclear – threaten to undermine the viability of new nuclear plants. The office has been the guarantor for every new US nuclear plant this century, bar one.
If the US is struggling to scale up its existing nuclear industry, this does not bode well for the technology’s hopes in Australia. Here, the prospect of a nuclear energy policy still appears alive in the Coalition party room, even though the technology remains politically unpopular, and the economics don’t stack up.
Stepping back from the politics, we cannot ignore the climate harms flowing from a walk-back on US climate action.
The US is the world’s second-largest emitter of greenhouse gases. As climate change reaches new extremes, the policy vacuum created by Donald Trump must urgently be filled by the rest of the world.
Christian Downie receives funding from the Australian Research Council
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Rachel Leslie, Lecturer in Curriculum and Pedagogy with a focus on Educational Psychology, University of Southern Queensland
Bullying is sadly a common experience for Australian children and teenagers. It is estimated at least 25% experience bullying at some point in their schooling.
The impacts can be far-reaching and include depression and anxiety, poorer school performance, and poorer connection to school.
The federal government is currently doing a “rapid review” of how to better prevent bullying in schools. This do this, we need a clear understanding of the full spectrum of aggressive behaviours that occur in schools.
We already know bullying can be physical, verbal and social, and can occur in person and online. But there is less awareness among educators and policymakers of “microaggressions”. These can be more subtle but are nonetheless very damaging.
What’s the difference between bullying and microaggressions?
Bullying is unwanted aggressive behaviour by a person or group against a targeted victim, with the intent to harm. The behaviour is repeated and there is a power imbalance between the perpetrator and victim.
Microaggressions are a form of aggression that communicate a person is less valued because of a particular attribute – for example, their race, gender or disability.
Microaggressions are repeated, cumulative and reflect power imbalances between social groups. A key difference with traditional bullying is microaggressions are often unconscious on the part of the perpetrator – and can be perpetrated with no ill intent.
For example, traditional bullying could include a child always excluding another child from the group, always pushing them when they walk past them, or calling them a rude name.
Microaggressions could include:
saying “you don’t look disabled” to a student with an invisible disability
mispronouncing a student’s name with no attempt to correct the pronunciation
saying to a student of colour, “wow, you’re so articulate”, implying surprise at their language skills
minimising a student with disability’s experience by saying “it can’t be that difficult. Just try harder.”
We don’t have specific statistics on prevalence within Australia, although there is ample research to say those from minority groups frequently experience microaggressions.
For example, studies of young people in the United States found incidents of microaggressions, often focused on racism, homophobia, transphobia and fat stigma. Students who held more than one identity (for example, a minority race and sexual orientation), were more likely to be targets.
Microaggressions in schools
My 2025 research on microaggressions towards dyslexic students in Australia found both students and parents can be on the receiving end. Teachers, school support officers and other students could be perpetrators.
These interactions minimised the students’ experiences of dyslexia and made them feel like second class students compared to their peers.
Some of the children reported comments from peers such as “oh yeah, reading, writing is hard already” which minimised the difficulties caused by dyslexia. Another student recalled how a peer had corrected her spelling “by snatching my book and re-writing it”, assuming she couldn’t do it herself. One student was made to feel bad for using a laptop in class as “someone said it was cheating”.
Research on US university students, showed students may also become hypervigilant waiting for future microaggressions to occur.
One Australian study found microaggressions can be so bad for some school students, they change schools in search of environments where staff and peers are more accepting.
How to address microaggressions
Research suggests addressing microaggressions can work as a prevention strategy to reduce other forms of bullying before it starts.
Studies also show teacher awareness of microaggressions is key to preventing and addressing incidents.
So a first step step is to make sure schools, teachers and students are aware of microagressions. Teachers should be educated about the relationship between microaggressions and bullying.
Schools need to create environments where microaggressions are understood, recognised and addressed. All students need to be taught how to respond appropriately as bystanders if they see microaggressions happening in the classroom, playground or online.
If a student feels that they or a friend has been made to feel less because of their identity, then they should be encouraged to seek help from an appropriate adult.
Schools also need proactive programs to foster inclusion in schools. Research shows school psychologists can help by delivering programs in mental health and social and emotional development.
Just as schools, teachers and school psychologists can be proactive in addressing microaggressions, so too can the federal government – by including microaggressions in its anti-bullying review.
If this article has raised issues for you, or if you’re concerned about someone you know, call Lifeline on 13 11 14 or Kids Helpline on 1800 55 1800.
Rachel Leslie is a committee member for the Australian Psychologists and Counsellors in Schools association.
Timely access to high-quality medical imaging can be lifesaving and life-altering. Radiology can confirm a fractured bone, give us an early glimpse of our baby or detect cancer.
But behind the x-ray, ultrasound, CT and MRI machines is a growing, highly profitable industry worth almost A$6 billion a year.
Corporate ownership dominates the sector. In our new study, we show how for-profit corporations own about three in every five private radiology clinics.
As radiology becomes an increasingly attractive target for investors, are we letting business interests reshape a key part of our health-care system?
30 million scans and counting
In 2023–24, two in five Australians had an x-ray, ultrasound, CT scan or MRI. That’s about 30.8 million scans in total (individuals may have two or more scans).
There have also been dramatic changes behind the scenes. Since the early 2000s, for-profit corporations have been buying small radiologist-owned clinics.
Today, 65% of private radiology practices are owned by publicly listed shareholders or private investors, including private equity firms. This marks a significant shift from clinician-led to investor-driven health care.
Advocates of corporate ownership suggest this business-focused approach can make the system more efficient through economies of scale. They say this allows consolidation of administration tasks and a reduction in overheads.
Easy access to finance can help buy expensive imaging machines. It can also provide investment towards new technologies, such as artificial intelligence.
Yet, there are three main reasons why corporate ownership of the radiology sector may be cause for concern.
1. It reduces competition
Large corporations buying up a bunch of smaller practices ultimately leads to less competition. In Tasmania, for example, 11 of the 17 private radiology clinics are owned by one company, significantly limiting patient choice.
We also found limited competition among radiology providers in South Australia, the Northern Territory and Australian Capital Territory.
When a single company dominates a local market, it creates the conditions for higher fees and reduced incentives to bulk bill. However, objective data on the impact of reduced competition on the affordability of scans is scarce.
2. It may lead to too many expensive scans
High-cost scans, such as MRIs and CTs, are lucrative. Medicare expenditure on MRI scans alone has doubled since 2012.
This may reflect improved access and a recommended shift towards more sensitive tests for some conditions. However, for-profit corporations now own about 76% of MRI machines in private clinics. These corporations may be financially incentivised to offer more costly imaging over equally effective, lower-cost options.
With profits tied to the number of scans, there’s growing unease financial motives may be influencing when and how often these scans are used.
While radiology corporations are not the ones requesting scans, there is little incentive for them to address overuse of radiology services, an issue for high-income countries such as Australia.
Low-value imaging may also generate overdiagnosis (when something shows up on imaging but will never cause the patient any health issues, for example). It can lead to unnecessarily exposing patients to radiation and cause unwarranted patient (and doctor) anxiety. This can ultimately lead to more tests and unnecessary treatment.
Private equity firms view radiology clinics as a commodity to be bought, their value increased, then sold over a relatively short time frame (typically three to seven years).
These firms generate profit not from delivering care, but from boosting the clinic’s value and charging them annual “management fees”.
A prime example is unfolding. I-MED, Australia’s largest radiology provider, is considering listing the business on the Australian Stock Exchange after failing to sell at a reported $3 billion. Its UK private equity owner bought I-MED for about $1.26 billion in 2018. If sold, this would be the latest of multiple owners since delisting from the stock exchange in 2006.
If there are debts, health-care companies can collapse, as we’ve seen recently with hospital chain Healthscope, which is owned by a Canadian-based private equity firm.
Experience of private equity’s role in health care in the United States also offers a cautionary tale. Reductions in the quality of care, asset stripping and ultimately the closure and bankruptcy of vital health-care providers have prompted Congressional investigations. The state of Oregon is on the verge of blocking private equity firms from controlling health-care providers.
What next?
As radiology becomes an increasingly attractive target for investors, questions are mounting about whether this profit-driven model can coexist with the public’s need for affordable, accessible health care.
Medicare was designed to guarantee affordable access to quality health care for all Australians, not guarantee revenue for corporations.
While unwinding corporate participation in the radiology sector is near impossible, there is still time to implement safeguards that prevent wealthy investors from prioritising financial gain over Australians’ health and wellbeing.
Stronger oversight and greater transparency from these corporations are needed to ensure Medicare dollars deliver real value for patients and the public.
We would like to acknowledge Jenn Lacy-Nichols (University of Melbourne) and Martin Hensher (University of Tasmania) who co-authored the paper mentioned in this article.
Sean Docking is a member of UniSuper (Industry Super Holdings Pty Ltd) as part of his superannuation; Unisuper is an investor in PRP Diagnostic Imaging. He has no direct investments in any diagnostic imaging companies.
Rachelle Buchbinder has received grant funding from NHMRC, MRFF, Arthritis Australia and HCF Foundation. She receives royalties from UpToDate for writing and editing ‘Plantar fasciitis’. She also receives royalties for her book entitled ‘Hippocrasy: How doctors are betraying their oath’. She has not received funding from for-profit industry, including from radiology companies.
For two centuries, scholars have sparred over the roots of the Piasts, Poland’s first documented royal house, who reigned from the 10th to the 14th centuries.
Were they local Slavic nobles, Moravian exiles, or warriors from Scandinavia?
Since 2023, a series of genetic and environmental studies led by molecular biologist Marek Figlerowicz at the Poznań University of Technology has delivered a stream of direct evidence about these enigmatic rulers, bringing the debate onto firmer ground.
Digging up the dynasty
Field teams have now opened more than a dozen crypts from the Piast era. The largest single haul came from Płock Cathedral in what is now central Poland.
The exhumed bones were dated between 1100 and 1495, matching written records. Genetic analysis showed several individuals were close relatives.
“There is no doubt we are dealing with genuine Piasts,” Figlerowicz told a May 2025 conference.
The Poznań group isolated readable DNA from 33 individuals (30 men and three women) believed to span the dynasty’s full timeline.
Surprise on the Y chromosome
The male skeletons almost all carry a single, rare group of genetic variants on the Y chromosome (which is only carried and passed down by males). This group is today found mainly in Britain. The closest known match belongs to a Pict buried in eastern Scotland in the 5th or 6th century.
These results imply that the dynasty’s paternal line arrived from the vicinity of the North Atlantic, not nearby.
The date of that arrival is still open: the founding clan could have migrated centuries before the first known Piast, Mieszko I (who died in 992), or perhaps only a generation earlier through a dynastic marriage. Either way, the new data kill the notion of an unbroken local male lineage.
Yet genetics also shows deep local continuity in the wider population. A separate survey of Iron Age cemeteries across Poland, published in Scientific Reports, revealed that people living 2,000 years ago already shared the genetic makeup seen in early Piast subjects.
In short, even if the Piasts were exotic rulers, they governed a long-established community.
A swamp tells its tale
While the DNA work progressed, another Poznań team dug into the history of the local environment via samples from the peaty floor of Lake Lednica near Poznań, the island-ringed stronghold often dubbed the cradle of the Piast realm.
Their study of buried pollen, published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, shows an abrupt switch in the 9th century: oak and lime pollen plummet, while cereal and pasture indicators soar. Traces of charcoal and soot point to widespread fires.
The authors call the shift an “ecological revolution”, driven by slash-and-burn agriculture and the need to feed concentrated garrisons of soldiers guarding local trade routes carrying amber and slaves.
Modelling boom and bust
Using this environmental data, historians and complexity scientists constructed a feedback model of population, silver paid as tribute to rulers, and fort-building. As fields expanded, tributes rose; as tributes rose, chiefs could hire more labour to clear more forest and build forts.
The model reproduces the startling build-out of ramparts at Poznań, Giecz and Gniezno around 990. It also predicts collapse once the silver stopped flowing.
Pollen data indeed show the woodlands recovered to some extent after 1070, while archaeological surveys record abandoned hamlets and shrinking garrisons.
The early Piast state rode a resource boom as the Piasts controlled part of the amber and slave trade routes that linked the shores of the Baltic Sea to Rome.
The impact of Mieszko’s conversion to Christianity on that lucrative trade remains subject to scholarly debate.
Reconciling foreigners and locals
How do these strands fit together? Evidence of a Scottish man in the Piast paternal line does not necessarily imply a foreign conquest. Dynasties spread by marriages as well as by swords.
For example, Świętosława (the sister of the first Piast king, Bolesław the Brave), married the kings of both Denmark and Sweden, and her descendants ruled England for a time. The networks of Europe’s nobility were highly mobile.
Conversely, the stable genetic profile of ordinary folk suggests that, whoever sat on the ducal bench, most people remained where their grandparents had farmed.
The broader research engine
None of this work happens in isolation. Poland’s National Science Centre has bankrolled a 24-person team across archaeology, palaeoecology and bioinformatics since 2014, generating 16 peer-reviewed papers and a public database of ancient genomes.
Conferences at Lednica and Dziekanowice now bring historians and molecular biologists to the same table. The methodological pay-off is clear: Polish labs can now process their own ancient DNA rather than exporting it to Copenhagen or Leipzig.
What still puzzles researchers
Three questions remain. First, does that British-leaning male line really start with a Pict? The closest known match to the Piasts may change as new burials are sequenced.
Second, how many commoners carried the same genetic variant? Spot samples from Kowalewko and Brzeg hint that it was rare among locals, but the data set is small.
Third, why did the silver dry up so fast? Numismatists suspect a shift in Viking routes after 1000 AD, yet the matter is far from settled.
A balanced verdict
Taken together, the evidence paints a nuanced picture. The Piasts were probably not ethnic Slavs in the strict paternal sense, yet they ruled, and soon resembled, an overwhelmingly Slavic realm.
Their meteoric rise owed less to outsider brilliance than to the chance alignment of fertile soils, cheap labour, and an export boom in amber and captives.
As geneticists conduct more DNA sequencing of remains, such as those of princes in crypts at Kraków’s Wawel castle, and palaeoecologists push their lakebed pollen samples back to 7th century, we can expect further surprises.
Darius von Guttner Sporzynski receives funding from the National Science Centre, Poland as a partner investigator in the grant ‘The “Chronicle of the Poles” by Bishop Vincentius of Cracow also known as Kadłubek. First critical Latin-English Edition.’ (2022/47/B/HS3/00931).
All children in England living in households claiming universal credit will soon be eligible for free school meals, the UK government has announced. This will improve the lives of 500,000 more children and save their families £500 per year.
This will reduce hunger at school. But it will not solve the UK’s child poverty crisis.
In her spending review on 11 June, Chancellor Rachel Reeves described the move – as well as investment in education – as “a downpayment ahead of publication of the Child Poverty Strategy in the autumn”. However, the two-child benefit cap, which the government is considering scrapping, and challenging school budgets, remain major barriers to addressing child poverty and food insecurity.
According to analysis from the Institute for Fiscal Studies, the new free school meals policy will ultimately lift 100,000 children out of poverty and cost £1 billion a year. Under the current system, only families in receipt of universal credit and earning below £7,400 a year qualify for free school meals. This incredibly low threshold has excluded a huge number of children living in poverty from getting a good meal at school.
Reactions have been justifiably positive. Nick Harrison, CEO of social mobility charity the Sutton Trust, has called the move “a significant step towards taking hunger out of the classroom”.
The Institute for Fiscal Studies pointed out, however, that the implied poverty reducing benefits of the policy will only be realised in the long term.
Eligibility for free school meals had temporarily widened during the roll out of universal credit. Juice Flair/Shutterstock
This is partly because, since 2018, the eligibility for free school meals has been temporarily widened to mitigate the impact of changes in the welfare system (the roll out of universal credit) on families. During this period, which ended in April this year, children still received free school meals even if family entitlements to universal credit changed.
This means that many children made eligible for free school meals under the new policy are already receiving them. And far fewer than 100,000 children will immediately be “lifted out of poverty”, as the government had claimed.
A mission against child poverty?
The education secretary, Bridget Phillipson, called the new school meals entitlement part of “the moral mission of this government to tackle the stain of child poverty”. She said: “Today this government takes a giant step towards ending it with targeted support that puts money back in parents’ pockets.”
Such forceful language almost does justice to the scale of the problem. In the UK, 4.45 million children live in poverty. One in five children live in food insecure households – meaning their families struggle to put food on the table.
My own research shows that a fifth of all schools now run a food bank. Extending free school meals is an undoubtedly positive step but it will only scratch the surface of these much deeper problems.
Given the depths of child poverty in the UK, the government must build on this development if it really wants to tackle the problem. Firstly, the government must commit to removing the two-child benefit cap, which limits benefits paid for children to the first two children in a family. Doing so would lift 350,000 children out of poverty immediately and reduce the number of children turning up to school too hungry to learn.
Extending free schools meal coverage is the less contentious policy option. There is, rightly or wrongly, public support for the two-child limit.
But it is also the comparatively less ambitious and effective one. Lifting the two child benefit cap would help more children at a lower cost per child.
Secondly, too often the government asks schools to meet essential costs, duties and innovations out of their existing budgets. In the long run, this disadvantages all children and particularly those living in poverty. This needs to change.
For example, the government currently only funds 75% of the costs of the new national school breakfast clubs. Next year schools will have to find £400 million from their existing budgets to fund pay rises for teachers. This figure dwarfs the amount schools will receive next year for extending free school meals.
Finally, we need to tackle the root causes of poverty and build viable pathways out of it. This cannot be achieved by largely focusing on education and providing more funding to schools – important as this is.
Child poverty is shaped by how our welfare and benefits system is organised, insecure and low-paid work, the high costs of housing and bills, and the absence of high-quality services and community resources that help children thrive. Only by tackling all of these issues in a coordinated and progressive way will be able to make child hunger and poverty things of the past, which is where they belong.
Will Baker 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.
Imagine your parents leave you and your siblings a share of land that’s been in your family for generations. Several of your relatives already live on the land, and you’d like to do the same; but you can’t get a loan to build or renovate a home without permission from all the relatives who also share ownership. And at any moment, another heir could sell their share, triggering a court-ordered sale that could force you off the land – and lose everything you’ve invested in.
This is the reality of what’s known as heirs’ property: land passed down informally, without clear wills or deeds, which results in a “tangled” or “clouded” title.
It’s more common than you might think in the U.S., especially in rural areas, and it presents significant challenges to long-term housing stability.
Research shows that within 44 states and the District of Columbia, there are an estimated 508,371
heirs’ properties, with an assessed value of US$32 billion. (There wasn’t reliable enough data in six states.)
It’s more of an issue in some states, such as Alabama. But it’s also a problem in cities such as New York City and Philadelphia.
Because it’s so difficult to finance home construction on this land, sell it or leverage it, heirs’ property can leave families vulnerable to exploitation and perpetuate cycles of poverty. Despite these challenges, many families have nonetheless lived together and supported one another on shared land for generations.
As faculty and collaborators with Auburn University’s Rural Studio, we study heirs’ property and its role in shaping housing access. Based in Hale County, Alabama, Rural Studio has completed over 200 projects – many of them homes built on heirs’ property – providing critical housing for families facing complex land ownership challenges.
Land with no clear owner
The lack of a clear will or deed often happens due to inadequate access to – and distrust of – the legal system.
Once the land is passed down to the next generation, the heirs are known as “tenants in common,” meaning they own an undivided interest in the entire property. As the property continues to pass down from generation to generation, the number of tenants in common increases exponentially.
When a couple passes down land to their children – and then those kids pass it down to their kids – the number of heirs dramatically increases. Auburn University Rural Studio, CC BY-SA
Without clear title, no single person or group can make decisions about the property. Every heir must legally sign off on any action, which makes it nearly impossible to secure traditional forms of financing, obtain insurance, access disaster relief, or use the land as collateral.
Those living on the land often pay their share of property taxes, but distant or unaware heirs might not, which puts the entire property at risk of being lost through a tax lien sale. This leaves families with property in “tangled” status exposed to predatory land acquisition practices that often lead to land loss.
Any tenant in common can sell their share to an outside party. These outside parties – either individuals or companies – can then request a court to order what’s called a partition by sale, which can push every other owner off the land.
Imagine three siblings inherit a piece of land from their parents and are now tenants in common. One sibling sells their share to a real estate investor. That investor then goes to court and requests a partition by sale. The court then orders the entire property sold and the proceeds split among the owners, effectively forcing the other two siblings off the land, even if they wanted to keep it.
Our research in Hale County, Alabama, finds that Black families in particular have supported one another for generations while living on heirs’ property.
These multigenerational kinship networks rely on one another for child care, elder care, food, transportation and shared utility costs. But the value of this sort of living situation goes beyond social and economic benefits. The land can be woven into family lore or be steeped in the history of the surrounding area.
So, despite the legal and financial challenges, many extended families will do whatever they can to continue living together on their land. Even a small stake in heirs’ property offers connection to the past and a place to return home in the future.
Family members often live in different homes spread across heirs’ property, which often exists in a legal gray area. Auburn University Rural Studio, CC BY-SA
These informal kinship networks can provide support and resilience in ways that traditional forms of land and homeownership do not. Putting all of the people who own the land on the title – what’s known as “clearing title” – is not only costly and time-consuming, but it also often requires dividing up the property into smaller parcels, which can prevent some family members from living on the land altogether.
Meanwhile, traditional legal and financial products – think mortgages and land-use agreements with farmers – tend to be structured with sole ownership in mind. Most banks and institutions simply won’t lend to heirs’ property with tangled titles.
There have been recent efforts to protect these informal arrangements. The Uniform Partition of Heirs Property Act, which has been enacted in 25 states, ensures due process and sets up safeguards against immediate partition by sale actions.
For example, if a suit is brought by a co-owner, a fair market value appraisal – or an agreed-upon value by all parties – must be conducted. The other shareholders of the land also have the option to buy out the shareholder bringing the suit. Under the statute, additional partition methods may be considered. And if a sale is required, it’s done on the open market.
Many organizations are working to address issues related to heirs’ property and tangled titles. Most of the work centers on clearing title, establishing shared land agreements and teaching landowners how to avoid having their property fall into a tangled title situation. For example, the Florida Housing Coalition, Housing Assistance Council and the Alabama Heirs Property Alliance are actively engaged in community education, legal support, data mapping and policy advocacy.
Build first, ask permission later
Many rural families on heirs’ property have limited pathways to homeownership. Financial constraints, limited access to quality housing options and lot restrictions have often forced residents to settle for older, substandard, manufactured homes. Small utility sheds have even begun to replace broken-down trailer homes in many rural areas.
Utility sheds are increasingly being used as homes across the U.S. South. Auburn University Rural Studio, CC BY-SA
There’s clearly a need for safe, durable housing that enables these families to build generational wealth. And that’s where Rural Studio comes in.
Building new housing or renovating existing structures means dealing with a web of zoning laws, building codes and land development ordinances, which are all tied to financing and lending systems. While many efforts to address heirs’ property aim to change legal policies, we approach this issue through housing.
We use what we call a “build first” strategy. Using funds from research grants and donations, we simply start building on heirs’ properties with the permission of families. In the process, we show that if tangled titles were no longer an obstacle, much more housing could be built.
One of our recent Rural Studio projects is the 18×18 House, a compact, multistory home built for a young man living on heirs’ property in Alabama.
The 18X18 House is a multistory home that was on heirs’ property in Alabama. Auburn University Rural Studio. Photo by Timothy Hursley, CC BY-SA
The home is nestled between several other family members’ homes. We had to work around existing electrical lines, a septic field, roads and steep topography. Despite these site constraints, the house is an ideal starter home: big enough for the young man and a future partner to live comfortably on the family plot. If he ever decides to leave, other family members can move in.
Rather than focusing on one-off products, our goal with the 18×18 House is to develop replicable housing prototypes that respond to the realities of intergenerational living on family land. We also hope that tangible housing will help policymakers understand the value of reform.
The question isn’t whether design can respond to these challenges, but how it can lead by pushing antiquated regulatory and legal frameworks to evolve.
Jennifer Pindyck receives funding from Fannie Mae, Wells Fargo and the Center for Architecture, in partnership with AIA New York. She is affiliated with the Association of Collegiate Schools of Architecture and is a registered architect in the state of Georgia.
Christian Ayala Lopez work is funded through a diverse range of organizations such as Fannie Mae, USDA, and Center for Architecture NY. He is affiliated to Association of Collegiate Schools of Architecture, National Council of Architectural Registration Boards, and member of Florida Housing Coalition.
Rusty Smith receives funding from Fannie Mae, USDA, Wells Fargo and Regions Bank. He is affiliated with the Housing Assistance Council, the American Institute of Architects, the Association of Collegiate Schools of Architecture, the National Renewable Energy Laboratory Innovation Incubator, the EPA Collegiate/Underserved Community Partnership and the Bipartisan Policy Center.
Like most people, you probably would do some math before answering this question. You would add up the money in your bank accounts, the value of your investments and any equity in a home you own, then subtract your debts, such as mortgages and car loans.
But many economists believe this approach, known as calculating your net worth, leaves out a big chunk of your wealth: the benefits you’ll get in the future from Social Security, if you live in the United States, or similar government benefits programs that help retirees pay their bills in other countries.
As a sociologist who studies income and wealth inequality, I wanted to figure out just how much government safety net programs are worth to their recipients, and whether they truly can substitute for private savings.
A $40 trillion trove
A team of researchers recently estimated that future Social Security payments amounted to more than US$40 trillion as of 2019 – about $123,000 for everyone in the U.S. That huge number, which is not adjusted for inflation, was nearly one-third of the $110 trillion of Americans’ collective net worth in that year.
In a recent peer-reviewed study, published in April 2025 in Socio-Economic Review, I found that even this expanded definition of wealth leaves some important things out: unemployment insurance, the child tax credit and other widely available benefits. People who have access to these programs don’t have to dip into their savings as much when unexpected costs come up.
Social Security is by far the largest of these programs. As of 2019, the typical worker nearing retirement had banked about $412,000 in future Social Security benefits, I found – nearly as much as the $472,000 in private retirement savings such workers had. This estimate doesn’t include Social Security benefits to orphans, widows or people with disabilities.
The value of Social Security retirement benefits varies according to workers’ income and work history, ranging from $271,000 for the poorest 10% of recipients to $669,000 for the richest 10%.
Benefits from smaller safety net programs can also add up. Because some programs differ by state, I analyzed California and Texas, the two largest states. In California, I calculated that the average 45-year-old worker can count on almost $12,000 in unemployment insurance over 26 weeks, while in Texas the same worker would be eligible for more than $15,000 over the same period.
Meanwhile, under current law, many families having a child in 2025 can expect to receive about $29,000 through the federal child tax credit over the course of that kid’s lifetime.
Texas doesn’t mandate paid family leave, but California requires that each parent receive eight weeks of their salary. That’s worth another $13,000 to a family earning $90,000 a year – the median in my study – and more if the parents have higher incomes.
Where there’s even more hidden wealth
These somewhat hidden sources of wealth are worth far more in many other countries, especially Scandinavian ones. Norway provides a useful contrast.
The typical Norwegian worker retires with more than $510,000 in public pension wealth, I calculated. The exact amount they collect will vary depending on what they’ve earned and how long they live, as is the case with Social Security. But, unlike in the U.S., if they get sick, Norwegians are eligible for a up to a year of paid sick leave – worth about $57,000 to the median worker.
Norwegians can get unemployment insurance benefits for almost two years, amounting to $70,000 for the average worker, depending on their wages. And the combination of Norway’s child benefit and parental leave is worth between $60,000 and $80,000 from the time each child is born until they turn 18, depending on the parents’ exact income.
In the past few years, researchers have estimated the wealth value of public pensions – though not other government benefits – in several countries, including Australia, Austria, Germany, Poland and Switzerland, among others.
In many nations, this value rivals or exceeds that of all stocks, real estate and other private assets held by their residents combined.
Because so many people are eligible for Social Security or its equivalent public pension programs in other countries, there is also much less inequality in total retirement wealth than in standard measures of net worth.
Wealth vs. income
Wealth is much more unequally distributed than income just about everywhere. In the United States, for example, the richest 5% of the population has 32% of all income, but 70% of all wealth.
For these reasons, many politicians, scholars and activists have proposed ambitious policies to reduce inequality in private wealth, such as a wealth tax. Another idea gaining in popularity is to start issuing “baby bonds,” which give each newborn a prefunded savings account.
Wealth embedded in government benefits offers a complementary method of addressing wealth inequality. Even today, when Social Security and similar pension programs in other places are counted alongside private savings, inequality in retirement wealth is much lower than in privately held wealth alone.
Less flexible source of wealth
To be sure, the wealth you’re eventually due through Social Security and other government programs isn’t the same as the private assets you might own.
You can’t sell or borrow against your future Social Security benefits to meet an unexpected expense or make a down payment on a home. And if you die before reaching retirement age, you won’t receive any payments from the Social Security system yourself, although your spouse or heirs may be eligible for survivor benefits.
Also, government programs are not set in stone. Eligibility requirements can change, and benefit levels can be cut.
For these reasons, having a combination of private savings and government benefits offers the most promising way for everyone to prepare for their future. This can also help society address wealth inequality.
Robert Manduca has received funding from the Washington Center for Equitable Growth.
As summer arrives, people are turning on air conditioners in most of the U.S. But if you’re like me, you always feel a little guilty about that. Past generations managed without air conditioning – do I really need it? And how bad is it to use all this electricity for cooling in a warming world?
If I leave my air conditioner off, I get too hot. But if everyone turns on their air conditioner at the same time, electricity demand spikes, which can force power grid operators to activate some of the most expensive, and dirtiest, power plants. Sometimes those spikes can ask too much of the grid and lead to brownouts or blackouts.
Research I recently published with a team of scholars makes me feel a little better, though. We have found that it is possible to coordinate the operation of large numbers of home air-conditioning units, balancing supply and demand on the power grid – and without making people endure high temperatures inside their homes.
Studies along these lines, using remote control of air conditioners to support the grid, have for many years explored theoretical possibilities like this. However, few approaches have been demonstrated in practice and never for such a high-value application and at this scale. The system we developed not only demonstrated the ability to balance the grid on timescales of seconds, but also proved it was possible to do so without affecting residents’ comfort.
The benefits include increasing the reliability of the power grid, which makes it easier for the grid to accept more renewable energy. Our goal is to turn air conditioners from a challenge for the power grid into an asset, supporting a shift away from fossil fuels toward cleaner energy.
Originally, the U.S. electric grid was built to transport electricity from large power plants to customers’ homes and businesses. And originally, power plants were large, centralized operations that burned coal or natural gas, or harvested energy from nuclear reactions. These plants were typically always available and could adjust how much power they generated in response to customer demand, so the grid would be balanced between power coming in from producers and being used by consumers.
But the grid has changed. There are more renewable energy sources, from which power isn’t always available – like solar panels at night or wind turbines on calm days. And there are the devices and equipment I study. These newer options, called “distributed energy resources,” generate or store energy near where consumers need it – or adjust how much energy they’re using in real time.
One aspect of the grid hasn’t changed, though: There’s not much storage built into the system. So every time you turn on a light, for a moment there’s not enough electricity to supply everything that wants it right then: The grid needs a power producer to generate a little more power. And when you turn off a light, there’s a little too much: A power producer needs to ramp down.
The way power plants know what real-time power adjustments are needed is by closely monitoring the grid frequency. The goal is to provide electricity at a constant frequency – 60 hertz – at all times. If more power is needed than is being produced, the frequency drops and a power plant boosts output. If there’s too much power being produced, the frequency rises and a power plant slows production a little. These actions, a process called “frequency regulation,” happen in a matter of seconds to keep the grid balanced.
This output flexibility, primarily from power plants, is key to keeping the lights on for everyone.
I’m interested in how distributed energy resources can improve flexibility in the grid. They can release more energy, or consume less, to respond to the changing supply or demand, and help balance the grid, ensuring the frequency remains near 60 hertz.
Some people fear that doing so might be invasive, giving someone outside your home the ability to control your battery or air conditioner. Therefore, we wanted to see if we could help balance the grid with frequency regulation using home air-conditioning units rather than power plants – without affecting how residents use their appliances or how comfortable they are in their homes.
From 2019 to 2023, my group at the University of Michigan tried this approach, in collaboration with researchers at Pecan Street Inc., Los Alamos National Laboratory and the University of California, Berkeley, with funding from the U.S. Department of Energy Advanced Research Projects Agency-Energy.
We recruited 100 homeowners in Austin, Texas, to do a real-world test of our system. All the homes had whole-house forced-air cooling systems, which we connected to custom control boards and sensors the owners allowed us to install in their homes. This equipment let us send instructions to the air-conditioning units based on the frequency of the grid.
Before I explain how the system worked, I first need to explain how thermostats work. When people set thermostats, they pick a temperature, and the thermostat switches the air-conditioning compressor on and off to maintain the air temperature within a small range around that set point. If the temperature is set at 68 degrees, the thermostat turns the AC on when the temperature is, say, 70, and turns it off when it’s cooled down to, say, 66.
Every few seconds, our system slightly changed the timing of air-conditioning compressor switching for some of the 100 air conditioners, causing the units’ aggregate power consumption to change. In this way, our small group of home air conditioners reacted to grid changes the way a power plant would – using more or less energy to balance the grid and keep the frequency near 60 hertz.
Moreover, our system was designed to kept home temperatures within the same small temperature range around the set point.
Smart thermostats could have frequency regulation capabilities available to interested consumers, to help balance the electricity grid. Danielle Mead/iStock/Getty Images Plus
Testing the approach
We ran our system in four tests, each lasting one hour. We found two encouraging results.
First, the air conditioners were able to provide frequency regulation at least as accurately as a traditional power plant. Therefore, we showed that air conditioners could play a significant role in increasing grid flexibility. But perhaps more importantly – at least in terms of encouraging people to participate in these types of systems – we found that we were able to do so without affecting people’s comfort in their homes.
We found that home temperatures did not deviate more than 1.6 Fahrenheit from their set point. Homeowners were allowed to override the controls if they got uncomfortable, but most didn’t. For most tests, we received zero override requests. In the worst case, we received override requests from two of the 100 homes in our test.
In practice, this sort of technology could be added to commercially available internet-connected thermostats. In exchange for credits on their energy bills, users could choose to join a service run by the thermostat company, their utility provider or some other third party.
Then people could turn on the air conditioning in the summer heat without that pang of guilt, knowing they were helping to make the grid more reliable and more capable of accommodating renewable energy sources – without sacrificing their own comfort in the process.
Johanna Mathieu works for the University of Michigan. She has received funding from the National Science Foundation, Department of Energy, ARPA-E, and the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation. She is affiliated with the IEEE.
Demonstrators clash with counterdemonstrators at the entrance to Lee Park in Charlottesville, Va., on Aug. 12, 2017. AP Photo/Steve Helber
A man named Regan Prater was charged with arson for the burning of Highlander Center in New Market, Tennessee, on May 7, 2025. The nonprofit has a long history of involvement in the Civil Rights Movement. The FBI stated in a court document that Prater participated in neo-Nazi Telegram group chats online.
In the past several years, extremists have started using the term “accelerationism” to describe their desire to create social chaos and societal collapse that leads to a race war and the destruction of liberal democratic systems, paving the way for a white ethnostate.
Scholars who study extremism have used the term “accelerationism” since the 1980s, but it wasn’t widely associated with right-wing extremist violence until the late 2010s. People calling themselves “eco-fascists,” for example, often endorse mass violence as a means to reduce population and spark societal collapse.
Accelerationism is often connected to the white replacement theory, a white nationalist conspiracy theory that falsely asserts that there is a deliberate plot to diminish the influence and power of white people by replacing them with nonwhite populations.
While not all extremists who advocate violent confrontation use the label, the calls for violent disruption strive for the same results. Brenton Harrison Tarrant, the Australian white supremacist who perpetrated the Christchurch mosque shootings on March 15, 2019, in New Zealand, labeled an entire section of his online manifesto Destabilization and Accelerationism: Tactics for Victory.
Members of the neo-Nazi National Socialist Movement salute and shout ‘sieg heil’ during a rally in front of the State House in Trenton, N.J., on April 16, 2011. AP Photo/Mel Evans
This primer provides an overview of some of the key groups that have embraced accelerationist thinking, posing significant threats to public safety, democratic institutions and social cohesion.
The Order
One of the first American groups to embody this ideology was The Order – also known as Brüder Schweigen, or the Silent Brotherhood – which continues to influence newer generations of extremist organizations, both directly and indirectly.
Robert Jay Mathews, who founded The Order in 1983, was inspired by the apocalyptic vision laid out in the novel “The Turner Diaries.” The 1978 book by William Luther Pierce – under the pseudonym Andrew Macdonald – calls for a violent, apocalyptic race war to overthrow the U.S. government and exterminate Jews, nonwhite people and political enemies. Pierce founded the National Alliance – a neo-Nazi, white supremacist organization advocating for a white ethnostate and violent revolution – in 1974.
The call for violent insurrection and radical societal overhaul has since served as a blueprint for white supremacists and right-wing extremists.
The Order believed the U.S. federal government was under the control of Jews and other minority groups, and it aimed to overthrow it to create a white ethnostate. The Order funded its activities through robberies, including US$3.6 million taken from an armored car near Ukiah, California, on July 19, 1984.
Its criminal and violent actions escalated to murder, most notably the 1984 assassination of Jewish radio host Alan Berg in Denver by Order member Bruce Pierce.
Russell had been active on a neo-Nazi web forum IronMarch.org since 2014 and announced the group’s formation on the site. He used the handle “Odin” to connect with other far-right extremists.
AWD quickly gained notoriety for its violent, neo-Nazi ideology, advocating for a race war and the collapse of the U.S. government through terrorism. The group drew inspiration from the writings of white supremacist James Mason, particularly his collection of essays titled “Siege.”
By 2020, AWD unraveled due to law enforcement pressure, prosecutions and internal splits. Though not fully gone, it effectively stopped operating under its name. Members helped form the National Socialist Order, which continues to promote Mason’s “Siege” and violent accelerationism.
Neo-Nazi counterdemonstrators shout angrily at the marchers from behind police barricades during the Lesbian and Gay Pride March on Fifth Avenue in New York, on June 25, 1995. AP Photo/Kathy Willens
Beginning in December 2020, The Active Club Network formed as a loosely affiliated, decentralized web of white supremacist, fascist and accelerationist groups that operate under a shared banner promoting physical training, brotherhood and militant white nationalism.
The Base
Founded around 2018, The Base represents one of the most explicit modern expressions of white nationalist accelerationism: as it is known by members, its “Siege Culture.”
Founded by Rinaldo Nazzaro, an American living in Russia who used the name Roman Wolf, the group recruited ex-military and survivalists preparing for collapse through self-sufficiency, aiming to spark a race war. The Base was directly influenced by James Mason’s book “Siege.”
The Base operates as a decentralized network of cells trained in paramilitary tactics, sabotage and guerrilla warfare. Their online propaganda explicitly calls for violent action to destabilize society.
Although several members have been arrested and convicted on a variety of crimes, including conspiracy to commit murder, civil disorder, firearm charges, vandalism and other violent crimes, The Base illustrates a fundamental feature of accelerationism: “leaderless resistance,” or a lack of a centralized leadership, which helps it survive and thrive. Its ideology and tactics are spread through online forums dedicated to white supremacist propaganda.
The goals of the organizers of the Unite the Right rally included unifying the American white nationalist movement and opposing the proposed removal of the statue of Robert E. Lee, the general who led the Confederate troops of slave states during the Civil War, from Charlottesville’s former Lee Park. The rally sparked a national debate over Confederate iconography, racial violence and white supremacy.
The Patriot Front defines itself as an organization of “American nationalists.” According to the Anti-Defamation League, since 2019 the Patriot Front has been responsible for a majority of white supremacist propaganda distributed in the United States, using flyers, posters, stickers, banners and the internet to spread its ideology.
Understanding the motivations and tactics of accelerationist groups and individuals, I believe, is critical to recognizing and countering the dangers they represent.
Art Jipson does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
In Florida, a bill that bans cellphone use in elementary and middle schools, from bell to bell, recently sailed through the state Legislature.
Gov. Ron DeSantis signed it into law on May 30, 2025. The same bill calls for high schools in six Florida districts to adopt the ban during the upcoming school year and produce a report on its effectiveness by Dec. 1, 2026.
Parents are divided on the issue. According to a report from Education Week, many parents want their kids to have phones for safety reasons – and don’t support bans as a result.
We are experts in media use and public health who surveyed 1,510 kids ages 11 to 13 in Florida in November and December 2024 to learn how they’re using digital media and the role tech plays in their lives at home and at school. Their responses were insightful – and occasionally surprising.
Adults generally cite four reasons to ban phone use during
school: to improve kids’ mental health, to strengthen academic outcomes, to reduce cyberbullying and to help limit kids’ overall screen time.
But as our survey shows, it may be a bit much to expect a cellphone ban to accomplish all of that.
What do kids want?
Some of the questions in our survey shine light on kids’ feelings toward banning cellphones – even though we didn’t ask that question directly.
We asked them if they feel relief when they’re in a situation where they can’t use their smartphone, and 31% said yes.
Additionally, 34% of kids agreed with the statement that social media causes more harm than good.
And kids were 1.5 to 2 times more likely to agree with those statements if they attended schools where phones are banned or confiscated for most of the school day, with use only permitted at certain times. That group covered
70% of the students we surveyed because many individual schools or school districts in Florida have already limited students’ cellphone use.
How students use cellphones matters
Some “power users” of cellphone apps could likely use a break from them.
Twenty percent of children we surveyed said push notifications on their phones — that is, notifications from apps that pop up on the phone’s screen — are never turned off. These notifications are likely coming from the most popular apps kids reported using, like YouTube, TikTok and Instagram.
This 20% of children was roughly three times more likely to report experiencing anxiety than kids who rarely or never have their notifications on.
They were also nearly five times more likely to report earning mostly D’s and F’s in school than kids whose notifications are always or sometimes off.
Our survey results also suggest phone bans would likely have positive effects on grades and mental health among some of the heaviest screen users. For example, 22% of kids reported using their favorite app for six or more hours per day. These students were three times more likely to report earning mostly D’s and F’s in school than kids who spend an hour or less on their favorite app each day.
They also were six times more likely than hour-or-less users to report severe depression symptoms. These insights remained even after ruling out numerous other possible explanations for the difference — like age, household income, gender, parent’s education, race and ethnicity.
Banning students’ access to phones at school means these kids would not receive notifications for at least that seven-hour period and have fewer hours in the day to use apps.
Phones and mental health
However, other data we collected suggests that bans aren’t a universal benefit for all children.
Seventeen percent of kids who attend schools that ban or confiscate phones report severe depression symptoms, compared with just 4% among kids who keep their phones with them during the school day.
This finding held even after we ruled out other potential explanations for what we were seeing, such as the type of school students attend and other demographic factors.
We are not suggesting that our survey shows phone bans cause mental health problems.
It is possible, for instance, that the schools where kids already were struggling with their mental health simply happened to be the ones that have banned phones. Also, our survey didn’t ask kids how long phones have been banned at their schools. If the bans just launched, there may be positive effects on mental health or grades yet to come.
In order to get a better sense of the bans’ effects on mental health, we would need to examine mental health indicators before and after phone bans.
To get a long-term view on this question, we are planning to do a nationwide survey of digital media use and mental health, starting with 11- to 13-year-olds and tracking them into adulthood.
Even with the limitations of our data from this survey, however, we can conclude that banning phones in schools is unlikely to be an immediate solution to mental health problems of kids ages 11-13.
Grades up, cyberbullying down
Students at schools where phones are barred or confiscated didn’t report earning higher grades than children at schools where kids keep their phones.
This finding held for students at both private and public schools, and even after ruling out other possible explanations like differences in gender and household income, since these factors are also known to affect grades.
There are limits to our findings here: Grades are not a perfect measure of learning, and they’re not standardized across schools. It’s possible that kids at phone-free schools are in fact learning more than those at schools where kids carry their phones around during school hours – even if they earn the same grades.
We asked kids how often in the past three months they’d experienced mistreatment online – like being called hurtful names or having lies or rumors spread about them. Kids at schools where phone use is limited during school hours actually reported enduring more cyberbullying than children at schools with less restrictive policies. This result persisted even after we considered smartphone ownership and numerous demographics as possible explanations.
We are not necessarily saying that cellphone bans cause an increase in cyberbullying. What could be at play here is that at schools where cyberbullying has been particularly bad, phones have been banned or are confiscated, and online bullying still occurs.
But based on our survey results, it does not appear that school phone bans prevent cyberbullying.
Overall, our findings suggest that banning phones in schools may not be an easy fix for students’ mental health problems, poor academic performance or cyberbullying.
That said, kids might benefit from phone-free schools in ways that we have not explored, like increased attention spans or reduced eyestrain.
The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Source: The Conversation – USA – By Tatishe Nteta, Provost Professor of Political Science and Director of the UMass Amherst Poll, UMass Amherst
President Donald Trump signs an executive order barring transgender female athletes from competing in women’s or girls sporting events on Feb. 5, 2025, in Washington.AP Photo/Alex Brandon
Since becoming president, Donald Trump has aggressively sought to fulfill his campaign promise to reverse the Biden administration’s protection of transgender Americans.
Trump is not alone in attacking the rights of transgender Americans. In 2025, 53 bills have been introduced in the U.S. Congress and over 900 bills have been introduced in 49 states that aim to limit the rights of transgender Americans in education, health care and athletics, according to the Trans Legislation Tracker.
While legal and ethical questions remain about these efforts, restricting the rights of transgender Americans seems to enjoy support among a majority of Americans.
For example, support for restricting the ability of medical professionals from providing gender-affirming care to minors has risen from 46% in 2022 to 56% in 2025, according to the Pew Research Center.
We wanted to know what factors contribute to majority support among Americans for these measures. We found that authoritarian attitudes – the desire for social conformity and an aversion to difference – play an important role in Americans’ willingness to restrict transgender rights.
A member, left, of the Idaho Liberty Dogs, a far-right extremist group, argues with attendee Kimberly Rumph near the entrance of the first Pride festival ever held in Nampa, Idaho, on June 9, 2024. Kyle Green for The Washington Post via Getty Images
Preferring conformity, suppressing social difference
Here, we refer to authoritarianism not as a type of political system or the characteristics of a leader, but rather as a person’s preference for social conformity and desire to suppress social difference.
According to this perspective, the attack on transgender rights is intended to appeal to Americans with authoritarian inclinations. As seen in authoritarian regimes such as Russia and Turkey, political leaders first mobilize their citizens on the basis of their desire to suppress transgender individuals in order to advance a broader movement to undermine democracy and restrict the rights of other groups that fail to conform to majority values.
While this perspective is quickly gaining media coverage, there hasn’t yet been hard evidence that authoritarians are particularly supportive of anti-trans legislation. Our goal was to assess the link between authoritarian attitudes and support for measures that restrict transgender rights.
We are political scientists who study the role of authoritarianism in American politics and who field polls that explore Americans’ views on a number of pressing issues.
In April 2025, we fielded a nationally representative survey of 1,000 American adults, asking about their perceptions of the first months of the second Trump presidency, their views toward various groups in society, and their policy preferences. We also asked them for their views about restrictions on the provision of gender-affirming care to transgender Americans.
Here’s how we analyzed and interpreted their responses.
To measure authoritarianism, scholars use a scale that asks respondents to express their preferences for a range of child-rearing practices. The scale asks whether a respondent tends to prefer children who are obedient, well behaved and well mannered or children who are independent, creative and considerate. Those who tend to favor obedient children are scored as having more authoritarian views.
Child-rearing preferences seem to be unrelated to attitudes about conformity in society. But there is good reason to believe that an adult who prefers conformity, obedience and uniformity in children also desires the same in society at large.
This work consistently shows that individuals who are less authoritarian are more likely to support policies that recognize diverse views. Those who rank high on authoritarianism prefer policies that highlight social unity and conformity.
Thus, we expected that Americans with more authoritarian attitudes would more strongly support state laws that seek to restrict transgender Americans’ access to gender-affirming care.
In line with other polling on this issue, our survey found that a little over one-third of Americans – 36% – express support for legislation that would make providing gender-affirming medical care to transgender youth a crime. Among the remaining respondents, 38% expressed opposition, and 26% expressed ambivalence toward this proposal.
We looked at support for banning gender-affirming care by level of authoritarianism. We found clear differences between the most and least authoritarian Americans.
Among those who score highest on the authoritarian scale, 46% express support for this ban, with 18% in opposition. The remaining 36% responded “neither support nor oppose” this ban. Examining the views of Americans who exhibit the least authoritarian views, we find that while 21% support these bans, 61% oppose them and 18% expressed an ambivalent view.
Authoritarianism remains an important contributor to Americans’ support for a ban on gender-affirming care for transgender youth, even after we take into account other considerations that influence this attitude.
Republican partisanship, conservative ideology and religiosity all increase support for a ban on gender-affirming care. After accounting for these factors, as well as for characteristics such as education, income, age and knowing a transgender person, more authoritarian people are still more likely to support the ban.
The findings from our survey suggest that while partisanship, ideology and religiosity all play key roles in explaining the popularity of these policies, a missing piece of the puzzle is authoritarianism.
Given their aversion to diversity and difference and their preference for the status quo, Americans with authoritarian inclinations likely believe that transgender people pose a threat to the social order. Thus, they are more likely than Americans low in authoritarianism to support policies that seek to restrict transgender rights in order to restore social conformity.
It’s not clear whether the passage of anti-transgender policies alone will lead the nation to turn away from a largely diverse and open democracy toward a more closed and intolerant society. But the fight over transgender rights is not a sideshow in American politics. Instead, it is one of the first of many battles over diversity and difference that will determine the nation’s political future.
Jesse Rhodes has received funding from the National Science Foundation, the Demos Foundation, and the Spencer Foundation. He is a member of the American Civil Liberties Union.
Adam Eichen, Lane Cuthbert, and Tatishe Nteta do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Source: The Conversation – USA – By Peter C. Mancall, Andrew W. Mellon Professor of the Humanities, USC Dornsife College of Letters, Arts and Sciences
A statue of Christopher Columbus, toppled by protesters, is loaded onto a truck on the grounds of the state capitol on June 10, 2020, in St Paul, Minn.Stephen Maturen/Getty Images
Nonetheless, Trump posted in April 2025, “Christopher is going to make a major comeback.” By using Columbus’ name, which means “Christ-bearer,” a president who covets the praise of faith leaders yoked the explorer to his campaign promise: “For those who have been wronged and betrayed, I am your retribution.”
By reasserting the importance of Columbus, the president took a stand against the toppling and vandalism of statues of Columbus. In this case, his act of retribution for his supporters focused on the holiday, which he could declare more easily than returning icons of a fallen man to empty pedestals.
As a historian of early America, I am familiar with how grievance marked the colonial era. Throughout this period, grievance fueled rage and violence.
European grievance in America
Europeans who arrived in the Americas following Columbus’ 1492 journey claimed the territories in the Western Hemisphere through an obsolete legal theory known as the “doctrine of discovery.”
Spanish, English, French, Dutch and Portuguese rulers, according to this notion, owned portions of the Americas, regardless of the claims of Indigenous peoples. This presumption of ownership justified, in their minds, the use of violence against those who resisted them.
In 1598, for example, Spanish soldiers patrolling the pueblo of Acoma in New Mexico demanded food from local residents, whom the colonizers saw as their subordinates. The town’s inhabitants, believing the request excessive, fought instead, killing 11 Spaniards.
In response, the governor of New Mexico, a territory almost entirely populated by Indigenous peoples, ordered the systematic amputations of the hands or feet of residents whom the soldiers thought had participated in the attack. They also enslaved hundreds in the town. Roughly 1,500 residents of Acoma died in the conflict, according to the National Park Service, a response seemingly driven more by grievance than strategy.
English colonizers proved just as quick to deploy extraordinary violence if they believed Native Americans deprived them of what they thought was theirs.
The English labeled the event a “barbarous massacre,” using language that dehumanized the Powhatans and cast them as villainous raiders. An English pamphleteer named Edward Waterhouse castigated these Indigenous people as “wyld naked Natives,” “Pagan Infidels” and “perfidious and inhumane.”
Opechancanough was paramount chief of the Powhatan Confederacy in present-day Virginia from 1618 until his death in 1646. mikroman6/Getty Images
War began almost immediately. Colonial soldiers embraced a scorched-earth strategy, burning houses and crops when they could not locate their enemies. On May 22, 1623, one group sailed into Pamunkey territory to rescue captives.
As historians who have studied the Salem witch trials have argued, many of the accusers in agricultural Salem Village – modern-day Danvers – harbored resentments against neighbors who had closer ties to nearby Salem Town, which was more commercial.
The aggrieved found a spokesman in the Rev. Samuel Parris, whose own earlier failure in business had led him to look for a new path forward as a minister. Parris’ anger about his earlier disappointments fueled his indignation about what he saw as inadequate economic support from local authorities.
In a sermon, he underscored his financial irritation by emphasizing Judas’ betrayal of Jesus for “a poor & mean price,” as if it was the amount that mattered. The resentful residents and their bitter minister fueled the largest witch hunt in American history, which left at least 20 of the accused dead.
The most obvious forerunner of today’s grievance-fueled politics was a rebellion in the spring and summer of 1676 by backcountry colonists in Virginia who battled their Jamestown-based colonial government. They were led by Nathaniel Bacon, a tobacco farmer who believed that provincial officials were not doing enough to protect outlying farms from attacks by Susquehannocks and other Indigenous residents.
Acts of grievance come in different forms, depending on historical and political circumstance. But the urge to reclaim what someone thinks should be theirs can lead to deadly violence, as earlier Americans repeatedly discovered.
Peter C. Mancall has received support from the University of Southern California, the Huntington Library, the National Endowment for the Humanities, and Oxford University to support his research on early America.
Imagine you’re a copper miner in southeastern Europe in the year 3900 B.C.E. Day after day you haul copper ore through the mine’s sweltering tunnels.
You’ve resigned yourself to the grueling monotony of mining life. Then one afternoon, you witness a fellow worker doing something remarkable.
With an odd-looking contraption, he casually transports the equivalent of three times his body weight on a single trip. As he returns to the mine to fetch another load, it suddenly dawns on you that your chosen profession is about to get far less taxing and much more lucrative.
What you don’t realize: You’re witnessing something that will change the course of history – not just for your tiny mining community, but for all of humanity.
An illustration of what the original mine carts used in the Carpathian mountains may have looked like in 3900 B.C.E. Kai James via DALL·E
Despite the wheel’s immeasurable impact, no one is certain as to who invented it, or when and where it was first conceived. The hypothetical scenario described above is based on a 2015 theory that miners in the Carpathian Mountains – now Hungary – first invented the wheel nearly 6,000 years ago as a means to transport copper ore.
The theory is supported by the discovery of more than 150 miniaturized wagons by archaeologists working in the region. These pint-sized, four-wheeled models were made from clay, and their outer surfaces were engraved with a wickerwork pattern reminiscent of the basketry used by mining communities at the time. Carbon dating later revealed that these wagons are the earliest known depictions of wheeled transport to date.
It has long been assumed that wheels evolved from simple wooden rollers. But until recently no one could explain how or why this transformation took place. What’s more, beginning in the 1960s, some researchers started to express strong doubts about the roller-to-wheel theory.
After all, for rollers to be useful, they require flat, firm terrain and a path free of inclines and sharp curves. Furthermore, once the cart passes them, used rollers need to be continually brought around to the front of the line to keep the cargo moving. For all these reasons, the ancient world used rollers sparingly. According to the skeptics, rollers were too rare and too impractical to have been the starting point for the evolution of the wheel.
But a mine – with its enclosed, human-made passageways – would have provided favorable conditions for rollers. This factor, among others, compelled my team to revisit the roller hypothesis.
A turning point
The transition from rollers to wheels requires two key innovations. The first is a modification of the cart that carries the cargo. The cart’s base must be outfitted with semicircular sockets, which hold the rollers in place. This way, as the operator pulls the cart, the rollers are pulled along with it.
This innovation may have been motivated by the confined nature of the mine environment, where having to periodically carry used rollers back around to the front of the cart would have been especially onerous.
The discovery of socketed rollers represented a turning point in the evolution of the wheel and paved the way for the second and most important innovation. This next step involved a change to the rollers themselves. To understand how and why this change occurred, we turned to physics and computer-aided engineering.
Simulating the wheel’s evolution
To begin our investigation, we created a computer program designed to simulate the evolution from a roller to a wheel. Our hypothesis was that this transformation was driven by a phenomenon called “mechanical advantage.” This same principle allows pliers to amplify a user’s grip strength by providing added leverage. Similarly, if we could modify the shape of the roller to generate mechanical advantage, this would amplify the user’s pushing force, making it easier to advance the cart.
Our algorithm worked by modeling hundreds of potential roller shapes and evaluating how each one performed, both in terms of mechanical advantage and structural strength. The latter was used to determine whether a given roller would break under the weight of the cargo. As predicted, the algorithm ultimately converged upon the familiar wheel-and-axle shape, which it determined to be optimal.
A computer simulation of the evolution from a roller to a wheel-and-axle structure. Each image represents a design evaluated by the algorithm. The search ultimately converges upon the familiar wheel-and-axle design. Kai James
During the execution of the algorithm, each new design performed slightly better than its predecessor. We believe a similar evolutionary process played out with the miners 6,000 years ago.
It is unclear what initially prompted the miners to explore alternative roller shapes. One possibility is that friction at the roller-socket interface caused the surrounding wood to wear away, leading to a slight narrowing of the roller at the point of contact. Another theory is that the miners began thinning out the rollers so that their carts could pass over small obstructions on the ground.
Either way, thanks to mechanical advantage, this narrowing of the axle region made the carts easier to push. As time passed, better-performing designs were repeatedly favored over the others, and new rollers were crafted to mimic these top performers.
Consequently, the rollers became more and more narrow, until all that remained was a slender bar capped on both ends by large discs. This rudimentary structure marks the birth of what we now refer to as “the wheel.”
According to our theory, there was no precise moment at which the wheel was invented. Rather, just like the evolution of species, the wheel emerged gradually from an accumulation of small improvements.
This is just one of the many chapters in the wheel’s long and ongoing evolution. More than 5,000 years after the contributions of the Carpathian miners, a Parisian bicycle mechanic invented radial ball bearings, which once again revolutionized wheeled transportation.
Ironically, ball bearings are conceptually identical to rollers, the wheel’s evolutionary precursor. Ball bearings form a ring around the axle, creating a rolling interface between the axle and the wheel hub, thereby circumventing friction. With this innovation, the evolution of the wheel came full circle.
This example also shows how the wheel’s evolution, much like its iconic shape, traces a circuitous path – one with no clear beginning, no end, and countless quiet revolutions along the way.
Kai James receives funding from The National Science Foundation.
Uganda is one of the countries most exposed to recent cuts in international aid, particularly with the dissolution of the US Agency for International Development (USAID). In 2023, about 5% of gross national income – a measure of a country’s total income, including income from foreign sources – was received in aid.
The cuts have given new impetus to the drive to increase taxes raised from domestic businesses.
Less than half (45%) of the Ugandan budget is financed through domestic revenue. The remainder is funded largely through debt and budget support (grants) from bilateral and multilateral donors. Corporate income tax makes up around 8% of total domestic revenue. Firms also collect employee income tax (pay-as-you-earn), value added tax, excise duties and fuel duties.
Small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs) contribute a small share of overall corporate income tax collection. But they make up over 90% of the private sector. The economy is heavily reliant on these firms for employment and growth.
These businesses struggle to navigate an increasingly complex tax system.
The complexity of Uganda’s tax system makes for a time-consuming tax filing process, compounded by low taxpayer knowledge and high levels of distrust in the Uganda Revenue Authority. The time, money and effort incurred by taxpayers to meet their tax obligations adds to their total tax burden.
These compliance costs also have real economic consequences. Firms might miss out on tax benefits or artificially constrain business growth to avoid greater reporting requirements. Since smaller firms are more constrained in their ability to document revenues, accurately calculate tax liabilities and file returns, they might even pay more tax than necessary.
At the margin, compliance costs affect the economic choices people make: the fear of high compliance costs might induce a potential entrepreneur to take a salaried job instead of starting a new business.
Relieving this burden could unlock greater productivity and growth, and encourage innovation and investment.
For my PhD in economics I collaborated with the Uganda Revenue Authority to generate detailed measures of tax compliance costs, using data from a survey of nearly 2,000 taxpaying SMEs. My research finds that the burden of compliance is significant, even for firms with very little tax revenue to contribute.
Solutions should focus on making compliance easier and ensuring that tax thresholds are set appropriately to exclude unproductive small firms.
The burden
The median firm faces total annual compliance costs of about US$800, equivalent to just under 2% of turnover. These costs are also highly regressive: smaller firms face costs exceeding 20% of turnover, versus less than 1% for the largest firms.
A more troubling result is that many firms, and particularly smaller ones, spend more on completing their tax returns than they pay in actual income tax.
Much of this burden stems from labour time. Employees and firm owners dedicate over 30 hours a month on compliance-related activities, primarily compiling tax documentation and preparing returns. For firm owners personally involved in tax compliance, this responsibility consumes around 20% of their working hours, on average.
Somewhat surprisingly, the amount of time spent on tax compliance does not increase significantly with firm size.
To compensate for limited tax knowledge, many firms use the services of a tax agent. These include external accountants, consultants, or other tax specialists who assist with tax compliance. My research finds that the use of agents is common across all taxpayer categories and is primarily driven by a desire to ensure proper compliance, rather than to minimise tax liabilities.
Although these agents do not necessarily reduce compliance costs, since firms spend an average of US$54 per month on agents’ fees, related research shows that they have a broadly positive impact on the quality of tax returns submitted.
What can be done
The Ugandan parliament recently voted on the 2025 tax amendment bills, with measures aiming to bolster revenue collection and simplify compliance. For instance, policymakers propose to use the national identity document as a taxpayer identification number, rather than requiring separate tax registration.
Firstly, the administrative thresholds for corporate income tax and presumptive tax (a simplified tax on business income for the smallest firms) have not been adjusted for over a decade. In a high inflation environment, this means that the tax system is capturing many firms with very little profit, and no tax to pay. Yet, these firms still bear compliance costs, and the revenue service incurs administrative costs registering and monitoring unproductive taxpayers.
Roughly 30% to 35% of firms filing returns each year file a nil return, meaning that they report zero on all significant fields of the tax return. Even these firms report compliance costs of, on average, around US$500 per year.
Rather than chasing the “little guy”, bigger revenue gains are likely to come from focusing on the largest businesses. For instance, research shows that tax incentives and exemptions cost Uganda over US$40 million in lost revenue per year.
Secondly, the Ugandan corporate income tax return is particularly long, complex, and more suited to the business structure of very large firms, rather than the SMEs making up most of the Ugandan economy. In addition to changing the thresholds, simplifying the return would be beneficial.
Filing processes could also be eased through automated pre-filling, for instance by using information from a firm’s monthly VAT returns to pre-populate parts of the corporate income tax return. The rollout of the Uganda Revenue Authority’s electronic invoicing system for VAT is a promising step in this direction, although it has been met with resistance by taxpayers.
Adrienne Lees receives funding from the International Centre for Tax and Development (ICTD). Through the ICTD, the research described in this article has been supported by the UK Foreign, Commonwealth and Development Office, the Norwegian Agency for Development Cooperation and the Gates Foundation.
Two long-running television current affairs programs are coming to an end at the same time, driving home the fact that no matter what the format, they have a shelf life.
The Project on Channel 10 will end this month after 16 years, and after 18 years on the ABC, Q+A will not return from its current hiatus.
Each was innovative in very different ways.
Q+A was designed specifically to generate public participation. Its format of five panellists, a host and a studio audience of up to 1,000 was a daring experiment, because the audience was invited to ask questions that were not vetted in advance.
This live-to-air approach gave it an edgy atmosphere not often achieved on television. From time to time, the edginess was real.
In 2022, an audience member made a statement supporting Vladimir Putin’s invasion of Ukraine and repeated Russian propaganda to the effect that Ukraine’s Azov battalion was a Nazi group that had killed an estimated 13,000 people in the Donbas region.
After a brief discussion of these allegations, the host Stan Grant asked the man to leave, saying other audience members had been talking about family members who were dying in the war, and he could not countenance the advocating of violence.
In 2017 the Sudanese-Australian writer Yassmin Abdel-Magied was involved in a fiery exchange with Senator Jacqui Lambie over sharia law.
They had been asked by an audience member if it was time to define new rules surrounding migration to avoid community conflict, to which Lambie replied: “Anyone that supports sharia law should be deported.”
Abdel-Magied questioned if Lambie even knew what that meant, before getting into a heated defence of feminism and Islam.
In 2024, an audience member listening to politicians on the panel debate family violence could not contain his frustration, calling out:
How dare you go into politics, in an environment like this, when one woman is murdered every four days, and all you […] can do is immediately talk about politics? That is just disgraceful.
His outburst went viral.
He had put his finger on what was an increasing problem with the program. It became hostage to fixed political positions among those of its panellists drawn from party politics.
As a result, it became predictable, and although the surprise element supplied by audience participation remained a strength, the panellists’ responses increasingly became echoes of their parties’ policies.
While the objective no doubt was to achieve a range of perspectives, it began to look like stage-managed political controversy.
This is not to criticise the established presenters – Tony Jones, who fronted the program for 11 years, Stan Grant and most recently Patricia Karvelas, all gifted journalists who adroitly managed the time bombs occasionally set off in their midst.
Unfortunately, especially for Grant, the program was a lightning rod for attacks on the ABC by The Australian newspaper. ABC management’s abandonment of him, after a particularly vicious attack in 2023 over his commentary during coverage of the king’s coronation, was disgraceful.
Resigning from the program, Grant said: “Since the king’s coronation, I have seen people in the media lie and distort my words. They have tried to depict me as hate filled. They have accused me of maligning Australia. Nothing could be further from the truth.”
The ABC is promising to continue with audience-participation programming along the lines of Your Say, a kind of online questionnaire which the ABC says was successfully tried during the 2025 federal election.
How such a format would translate to television is not clear.
Meanwhile at Ten, there is promise of a new current affairs program, but details are scant.
The Project will be a hard act to follow. It promised “news done differently” – and it delivered. News stories were given context and a touch of humanity by a combination of humour, accidents, slips of the tongue and the intellectual firepower of Waleed Aly.
Aly is a Sunni Muslim, and his “ISIL is weak” speech in 2015 spoke directly and passionately to the fears of the public at the peak of one of the many panics over terrorism.
Inevitably, much of the attention in the wake of the announced closure has been on the celebrated gaffes of long-time presenter Carrie Bickmore, a little rich to be reproduced in a sober article such as this, but findable here.
It may not be an auspicious time for launching a new current affairs program at Ten. Its ultimate parent company, Paramount, in the United States, is in the process of negotiating a settlement with US President Donald Trump over a trumped-up court case in which the president is suing the company for US$20 billion (A$30.7 billion).
He says an interview done by another Paramount company, CBS News, with the Democrats’ former presidential nominee Kamala Harris during the election campaign was “deceptively edited”.
This is said to have no prospect of succeeding in court, but Paramount wishes to merge with Skydance Media and fears the Trump administration would block it if the company doesn’t come across. The Wall Street Journal is reporting it is proposing to settle for $15 million.
Senior editorial staff at CBS have already resigned in protest at Paramount’s cowardice, so what price editorial independence at Ten?
Denis Muller 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 Australian government is imposing financial and travel sanctions on two far-right Israeli ministers: Itamar Ben-Gvir (the national security minister) and Bezalel Smotrich (finance minister).
This is a significant development. While Australia has previously sanctioned seven individual Israeli settlers, Ben-Gvir and Smotrich are the most high-profile Israeli nationals to face such sanctions.
Civil society organisations have long called for sanctions against these ministers and others in the Israeli cabinet.
Australian Foreign Minister Penny Wong previously rebuffed such calls by saying that “going it alone gets us nowhere”. These latest sanctions have been imposed by a coalition of five states: Australia, Canada, New Zealand, Norway and the United Kingdom.
A joint statement by the foreign ministers of these countries says Ben Gvir and Smotrich “have incited extremist violence and serious abuses of Palestinian human rights.”
Explaining the sanctions further, Wong told ABC Smotrich and Ben-Gvir are the “most extreme proponents of the unlawful and violent Israeli settlement enterprise”.
He has also complained no one would allow Israel “to cause two million civilians to die of hunger, even though it might be justified and moral until our hostages are returned.”
Last month, he argued that “until the last hostage is returned, we should not even be sending water” to Gaza.
The joint statement by the foreign ministers explains Ben-Gvir and Smotrich have been sanctioned for “inciting violence against Palestinians in the West Bank”.
The statement notes these measures “cannot be seen in isolation from the catastrophe in Gaza”. However, it also goes on to express “unwavering support for Israel’s security” and vows to “continue to work with the Israeli government”.
Nor does it make clear Ben-Gvir and Smotrich are not bad apples; they are integral members of the far-right Israeli government that is responsible for the destruction of Gaza and the starvation of its people.
Indeed, just this week, a UN independent fact-finding commission report found Israel was committing the “crime against humanity of extermination” in Gaza, among other war crimes.
What are Magnitsky sanctions?
Smotrich and Ben-Gvir have been sanctioned under Australia’s Autonomous Sanctions Act 2011. This act grants the foreign minister broad discretionary powers to impose sanctions.
In 2021, the Australian government amended this act to allow the government to impose sanctions on specific “themes”, such as:
serious violations or serious abuses of human rights
threats to international peace and security
activities undermining good governance or the rule of law, including serious corruption.
These targeted sanctions on human rights abuses are often called “Magnitsky-style sanctions” after the Russian lawyer Sergei Magnitsky, who died in custody after exposing serious corruption in Russia. They enable a government to freeze the assets of and impose travel bans on individuals and specific entities, not just countries.
Since coming into force, Australia has imposed the Magnitsky-style sanctions on numerous Russian military leaders, members of Myanmar’s junta, and the commander in chief of the Iranian Army.
But Australia does not only sanction individuals from these countries. It also imposes country-wide sanctions on Russia, Myanmar and Iran.
These broader sanctions restrict all trade in arms, including weapons, ammunition, military vehicles and equipment, as well as spare parts and accessories.
Australia can – and should – do more
The Australian Centre for International Justice, which had lobbied the government to sanction Smotrich and Ben-Gvir, welcomed the decision. It called it:
an important demonstration of Australia’s commitment to upholding international law and human rights.
But the centre’s acting executive director, Lara Khider, stressed the need for further concrete action. This includes “the imposition of a comprehensive two-way arms embargo on Israel”.
Indeed, sanctions are not just political or diplomatic tools that states can apply at their discretion. International law can require states to apply sanctions, such as through a resolution of the UN Security Council.
Last July, the International Court of Justice declared that Israel’s occupation of the West Bank and Gaza, including its imposition of a regime of racial segregation, is unlawful.
In that advisory opinion, the court also clarified the legal obligations of all states concerning Israel’s occupation of Palestine. Such obligations include the duty on all states to “take steps to prevent trade or investment relations that assist in the maintenance of the illegal situation”.
Nothing less than a two-way trade and arms embargo is adequate now. Just as Australia imposes such sanctions on Russia, Myanmar and Iran, it must do the same for Israel.
Jessica Whyte receives funding from the Australian Research Council. With Sara Dehm, she co-authored a submission to the 2024 inquiry into Australia’s sanctions regime which criticised Australia’s failure to impose sanctions on the state of Israel.
Sara Dehm receives funding from the Australian Research Council. With Jessica Whyte, she co-authored a submission to the 2024 inquiry into Australia’s sanctions regime which criticised Australia’s failure to impose sanctions on the state of Israel.
Malaria is one of the deadliest diseases spread by mosquitoes. Each year, hundreds of millions of people worldwide are infected and half a million people die from the disease.
While mainland Australia was declared malaria-free in 1981, from time to time travellers return to Australia with an infection.
Infections from local mosquitoes are incredibly rare. However, last week two cases of locally acquired malaria were reported in the Torres Strait.
So what does this mean for local communities? And is this a risk for mainland Australia?
What is malaria?
Unlike other mosquito-borne disease, malaria is caused by protozoan parasites, not viruses. These parasites belong to the Plasmodium genus. While five of these parasites are considered a human health concern, Plasmodium falciparumposes the most serious threat.
Symptoms can be mild and include fever, chills and headache. But sometimes people develop severe symptoms, such as fatigue, confusion, seizures and difficulty breathing.
Without appropriate medical care, the disease can be fatal. Those most at risk of life-threatening illness include infants, children under five years, pregnant women and patients with HIV and AIDS.
How does it spread?
Malaria parasites are spread by the bite of a mosquito carrying the malaria parasite.
Not all mosquitoes can carry the parasite. The group of mosquitoes responsible for most malaria transmission is called Anopheles. Aedes and Culex mosquitoes, which are typically associated with the spread of viruses, don’t transmit malaria to people.
The Anopheles group of mosquitoes play an important role in transmitting malaria parasites. Cameron Webb (NSW Health Pathology), CC BY-NC-ND
Alternative strategies include using insecticide-treated bed nets and controlling mosquitoes by spraying insecticide on and around homes. Early diagnosis and treatment of those suspected to have an infection is also crucial.
‘Imported’ versus ‘locally acquired’ infections
There is an important distinction between “imported” and “locally acquired” cases of malaria.
“Imported” cases mean the person has been infected overseas and returned to Australia, where they’ve been diagnosed and treated. These cases appear in official statistics but are not the result of local mosquito bites.
“Locally acquired” cases are where a person is infected without any overseas travel. These cases often result from the parasites first introduced into Australia by infected travellers. The travellers are then bitten by local mosquitoes that go on to bite and spread the pathogens to people who haven’t travelled.
When this happens, it indicates local mosquitoes are carrying the malaria parasites and there is a significant risk further infections have occurred (but are not yet diagnosed) or may be diagnosed in the near future. Mosquito control or other initiatives are required to prevent larger outbreaks.
In the case of the Torres Strait, there is also the risk infected mosquitoes are transported, either by wind or boats, from Papua New Guinea.
So, what’s happening in the Torres Strait?
Queensland Health is currently investigating two recent cases of locally acquired malaria on Saibai Island.
But cases of locally acquired malaria aren’t unusual in the Torres Strait. They’re often suspected to be linked to movement of people into the islands from PNG, a country that reports more than a million suspected cases of malaria each year.
The tropical climate of the Torres Strait and presence of Anopheles mosquitoes means conditions are right for local spread once the parasites are introduced, either through infected mosquitoes or people.
Since the 1980s, there have only been a small number of cases reported on mainland Australia. The majority are in travellers returning to Australia who were infected overseas.
Historically, malaria cases were reported in many parts of the country, especially in the 1940s, including suburbs around Sydney when soldiers infected overseas returned to Australia.
The mosquitoes capable of spreading the parasites then are still present today. While the most important malaria mosquito in Australia, Anopheles faurati, is limited to northern regions of coastal Australia, Anopheles annulipes is widespread across much of the country.
But just because the mosquitoes are there, it doesn’t mean there will be an outbreak of malaria.
The parasite needs to be introduced and it needs to be warm enough for it to complete its life cycle in local mosquitoes. The cooler it is, the less likely that is to happen, even if suitable mosquitoes are present.
The parasites also face additional challenges. Infected people need to be bitten by local Anopheles mosquitoes, not just any mosquitoes. And with modern health-care systems in Australia, untreated sick people are less likely to be exposed to mosquito bites.
Malaria is one of the mosquito-borne pathogens considered at risk of increasing as a result of climate change. But there are many other factors at play that will determine future outbreak risk in mainland Australia, especially outside the tropical north of the country, such as a changing climate and seasonal changes in numbers and types of mosquitoes.
How to stay safe
The most important way local communities and visitors to the Torres Strait can stay safe is to avoid mosquito bites.
Cover up when possible with long-sleeved shirts, long pants and covered shoes and apply an insect repellent.
Insect screens, whether on buildings or in the form of bed nets will also provide protection overnight.
Cameron Webb and the Department of Medical Entomology, NSW Health Pathology and University of Sydney, have been engaged by a wide range of insect repellent and insecticide manufacturers to provide testing of products and provide expert advice on medically important arthropods, including mosquitoes. Cameron has also received funding from local, state and federal agencies to undertake research into various aspects of mosquito and mosquito-borne disease management.
Next week is “scrutiny week” in parliament – one of two weeks each year when opposition MPs can hold ministers accountable for their actions, or lack thereof.
For us, it’s a good time to take stock of whether New Zealand is on track to achieve its smokefree goal of reducing smoking prevalence to under 5% and as close to zero as possible, among all population groups, this year.
The latest New Zealand Health Survey shows that, for the first time in a decade, smoking rates have flatlined rather than fallen. Stark inequities persist, with daily smoking prevalence among Māori at 14.7% (compared to 6.1% among European New Zealanders).
To bring New Zealand’s overall smoking prevalence under 5% would require more than 80,000 people to quit this year. Achieving the goal equitably means more than 60,000 of those people would need to be Māori.
The government’s repeal of earlier measures predicted to bring rapid and equitable reductions in smoking prevalence means achieving the Smokefree 2025 goal for all population groups is now highly unlikely.
Ending the scourge of tobacco
Proposed by the Māori Affairs Select Committee and adopted by the then National-led government in 2011, the Smokefree 2025 goal has always had equity at its heart.
At that time, smoking prevalence among Māori was 37.7% and 14.7% among European New Zealanders. Reducing smoking rates to less than 5% for all population groups offered an opportunity to profoundly reduce health inequities burdening Māori.
Early discussions recognised the large inequities in smoking rates. Speaking about his role in the select committee inquiry, former National Party leader Simon Bridges stated:
The picture I had of smoking was quite wrong. Most of the time, smoking is not this idea of a free market with adults who freely consent to take up smoking […] but the more complex, difficult situation of children smoking as a result of parents and grandparents who smoked […]. That means that a more intense, stronger, more interventionist approach is called for.
The first Smokefree Action Plan, only introduced a decade later in late 2021, included more intense measures and established a Māori and Pacific oversight committee to ensure all actions taken promoted equity.
The action plan introduced three key initiatives: denicotinisation, a large reduction in outlets selling tobacco, and the smokefree generation strategy.
All were expected to have strong pro-equity outcomes. Modelling predicted denicotinisation would bring unprecedented reductions in smoking prevalence, eliminating the gaps between Māori and non-Māori. Reducing tobacco availability would end the widespread access to tobacco in lower-income communities.
The smokefree generation, a longer-term endgame strategy that would have meant anyone born after 2009 could no longer buy tobacco, was predicted to significantly reduce inequity, given the younger Māori (and Pacific) population structure.
While smoking rates are heading in the right direction, we need to do more, faster, to reach our goal. If nothing changes, it would be decades till Māori smoking rates fall below 5%, and this government is not prepared to leave people behind.
Is equity still the goal?
The coalition government’s repeal of these measures in early 2024 left a void, but Associate Health Minister Casey Costello reaffirmed a commitment to the Smokefree 2025 goal. A January 2024 update to Cabinet stated:
The government remains committed to further reducing smoking rates and achieving the Smokefree 2025 goal of daily smoking prevalence of less than 5% for all population groups.
However, by late 2024 the narrative began changing. In November, Costello launched a new smokefree action plan in a final push to reach the headline 5% target. Her plan does not emphasise the structural changes (such as fewer outlets selling tobacco) called for by the Māori Affairs Select Committee.
We argue New Zealand will likely fall well short of its 2025 goal to bring smoking rates below 5% and reduce inequities, despite an ongoing commitment by Health New Zealand-Te Whatu Ora.
During scrutiny week, we hope Associate Health Minister Costello will be asked how she explains the discrepancy between her earlier commitment to achieving the Smokefree 2025 goal among all population groups and more recent comments which appear to roll back the equity goal.
More importantly, we hope questions will probe how she plans to reduce smoking prevalence among Māori to a third of its current level, and what evidence she has that the steps she proposes will work.
Janet Hoek receives funding from the Health Research Council of New Zealand, the Marsden Fund, NZ Cancer Society and NZ Heart Foundation. She is a member of the Health Coalition Aotearoa’s smokefree expert advisory group and of the Ministry of Health’s smokefree advisory group, a member of the HRC’s Public Health Research Committee, and a Senior Editor at Tobacco Control (honorarium paid). She serves on several other government, NGO and community advisory groups.
Jude Ball receives funding from the Health Research Council of New Zealand, the Marsden Fund, NZ Cancer Society, NIB Foundation, and the Health Promotion Agency. She is affiliated with the Public Health Association of New Zealand, a member of Health Coalition Aotearoa’s smokefree advisory group, and serves on other NGO and community advisory groups.
The Albanese government has a new mantra to describe the housing crisis, which is showing no signs of abating: homes have simply become “too hard to build” in Australia.
The prime minister and senior ministers are taking aim at what they are calling a “thicket” of red tape and regulation, which is making it “uneconomic” to build affordable housing.
But will a war on excessive regulation be enough to address the affordability barriers keeping many people out of the market? Or does the answer lie in systemic change, including tax reform?
Abundant housing agenda
Assistant Minister for Productivity Andrew Leigh kick-started the assault on regulation when he recently took aim at local councils for holding back new housing developments:
Approvals drag on. Rules multiply. Outcomes are inconsistent. They don’t say ‘no’ outright. They just make ‘yes’ harder than it needs to be.
By lamenting rigid planning processes, Leigh was channelling the zeitgeist. The minister was drawing on the book Abundance by Ezra Klein and Derek Thompson. The book – a smash hit in political circles – calls on progressives to adopt “YIMBY” policies (Yes In My Backyard) and remove the barriers that slow project delivery.
Leigh was duly applauded by the housing industry, which promotes its own version of abundance as an “unabashed focus on supply-side housing policy mechanisms”.
More than supply
New housing construction is certainly critical, as reflected in the government promise to build 1.2 million homes over five years.
The target is already out of reach, with the regulatory burden being blamed for a forecast shortfall of 262,000 homes by mid 2029.
But by focusing on planning laws as the main barrier to new supply, Leigh risks diverting attention from the overarching systemic changes needed to improve access to affordable housing.
While an overhaul of red tape is important, it won’t be enough to address current supply barriers, including market conditions and industry constraints. Nor will unleashing construction be sufficient to make housing affordable for first home buyers or low income renters.
According to the National Housing Supply and Affordability Council, other priority areas for the government should include social housing, protection for renters and tax reform.
Winding back tax breaks such as negative gearing and the capital gains tax discount, would free up resources for public investment in social housing. Targeting financial incentives to new, and preferably affordable homes, would also boost supply.
Perhaps the size of Labor’s election victory and the calls for reform by a chorus ofexperts may convince the government to reconsider its refusal to curb these tax breaks.
Blaming local councils
Within a system-wide reform agenda, regulatory roadblocks to new land and housing supply should be assessed. But in doing so, accurate data and analysis is critical.
Leigh singles out North Sydney Council to illustrate his argument that over-regulation is holding back housing starts. He claims just 44 dwelling were approved between July 2024 and February 2025, well short of its state-imposed target of 787 homes:
This is not a small gap. It is structural failure, Even where planning targets exist, the systems to meet them often don’t.
But the figures Leigh cites isn’t for development approvals. Instead, they refer to construction certificates issued when a development is ready to commence. According to the NSW Planning Portal, the actual number of new dwellings approved in North Sydney was 446, which was particularly notable given the economic conditions.
Unfortunately, Leigh’s attack on local councils perpetuates many common misunderstandings about how planning systems operate in Australia. He seems to point the finger at local councils, when land use plans – zoning, height and density controls – are signed off by the states.
Leigh also recalls a time when housing completions were flowing much more freely in his home town of Canberra, implying the key difference is one of over regulation and not underlying economic circumstances.
The ACT is particularly prone to a slowdown in building approvals because of the shift from detached homes on greenfield sites towards medium density apartments. And there has been a near total retreat from public sector investment in new supply. For instance, in 1969-70, nearly a third of new homes in Canberra were delivered by the government. These days it’s just 5%.
Political will
The tired cliches about housing and zoning continue to circulate.
The need to relax zoning restrictions to ease house prices was the media’s main takeaway from the OECD’s latest Economic Outlook Report.
The 280-page document does mention “zoning” in the list of regulatory reforms Australian governments could undertake. But the OECD says the emphasis should be on public investment “to address the housing affordability crisis by boosting supply” especially in social housing.
As our research has previously demonstrated, calling for zoning and planning reform is a popular technique for seeming concerned about housing while avoiding the systemic change that would deliver additional supply.
Has housing really become too hard to build?
Or does the difficultly lie in finding the political will to take the real steps needed to make housing more accessible to generations of Australians who risk missing out?
Nicole Gurran receives funding from the Australian Housing & Urban Research Institute (AHURI) and has received funding from the Australian Research Council.
Peter Phibbs receives funding from the Australian Housing and Urban Research Institute (AHURI)
Australia, together with the United Kingdom, Canada, New Zealand and Norway, has imposed sanctions on two ministers in the Israeli government for “inciting violence against Palestinians in the West Bank”.
Australia and the other countries were immediately condemned by the United States Secretary of State Marco Rubio, who called for them to be lifted.
The move comes as Prime Minister Anthony Albanese prepares to leave on Friday for the G7 in Canada, where he is expected to meet UN President Donald Trump on the sidelines of the conference.
Australia’s signing up for the sanctions is just another complication for the anticipated meeting. The Australian government is under pressure from the US administration to significantly boost its defence spending. Meanwhile, Australia is seeking a deal to get some exemption from the Trump tariffs.
The sanctions are on National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir and Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich.
They include bans on travel to Australia, a freeze on any assets they might have here, and a prohibition on anyone in Australia directly or indirectly making assets available to them.
Foreign Minister Penny Wong said the two ministers “have been the most extremist and hard line of an extremist settler enterprise which is both unlawful and violent”.
The Israeli ministers are accused of major violations of human rights, including escalating physical violence and abuse by Israeli settlers. A few days ago they marched through Jerusalem’s Muslim Quarter with a group that chanted “death to Arabs”.
In a social media post, Rubio said the sanctions “do not advance US-led efforts to achieve a ceasefire, bring all hostages home, and end the war”.
“We reject any notion of equivalence: Hamas is a terrorist organization that committed unspeakable atrocities, continues to hold innocent civilians hostage, and prevents the people of Gaza from living in peace. We remind our partners not to forget who the real enemy is.”
Urging the reversal of the sanctions, Rubio said the US “stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Israel”.
Asked whether he was concerned the sanctions would damage Australia’s relations with the US, Albanese told reporters he was not: “Australia makes its own decisions based upon the assessments that we make”. He pointed out the action was in concert with the Five Eyes countries of Canada, the UK and new Zealand.
Shadow Foreign Minister Michaelia Cash said sanctioning democratically elected officials of a key ally was “very serious”.
“Labor should be clear who initiated this process, on what basis they have done so and who made the decision”, Cash said. The government should also say what, if any, engagement it had had with the US on the matter, she said.
Michelle Grattan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
After United States Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents arrested multiple people on alleged immigration violations, protests broke out in Los Angeles.
Authorities have been using “less lethal” weapons against crowds of civilians, but these weapons can still cause serious harm.
Footage of an Australian news reporter being shot by a rubber bullet fired by police – who appeared to deliberately target her – has been beamed around the world. And headlines this morning told of an ABC camera operator hit in the chest with a “less lethal” round.
This has provoked debate about police and military use of force.
As the term suggests, less lethal (also called non lethal or less-than-lethal) weapons are items that are less likely to result in death when compared with alternatives such as firearms.
Less lethal weapons include weapons such as:
pepper spray
tear gas
tasers
batons
water cannons
acoustic weapons
bean-bag rounds
rubber bullets.
They are designed and used to incapacitate people and disperse or control crowds.
They are meant to have temporary and reversible effects that minimise the likelihood of fatalities or permanent injury as well as undesired damage to property, facilities, material and the environment.
In Australia in 2023, for example, 95-year-old aged care resident Clare Nowland was tasered, fell backwards, hit her head and died from her head injury.
In 2012, responding to a mistaken report about an armed robbery, police physically restrained, tasered and pepper sprayed 21-year-old Roberto Curti multiple times. He died but his exact cause of death (and whether the use of less lethal weapons played a causal role) was not clear.
Do these weapons work to quell unrest?
The impetus for police and military use of less lethal force came about, in part, from backlash following the use of lethal force in situations where it was seen as a gross overreaction.
One example was the 1960 Sharpeville massacre in South Africa, when police officers in a black township opened fire on an anti-apartheid protest, killing 69 civilians.
In theory, less lethal force is meant to provide a graduated level of response to events such as riots or protests, where the use of lethal force would be disproportionate and counter-productive.
It is sometimes described as the “next step” to use after de-escalation techniques (like negotiation or verbal commands) have failed.
Less lethal weapons can be used when some degree of force is considered necessary to restore order, neutralise a threat, or avoid full-blown conflict.
How well this works in practice is a different story.
There can be unintended consequences and use of less lethal force can be seen as an act of aggression by a government against its people, heightening existing tensions.
The availability of less lethal weapons may also change perceptions of risk and encourage the use of force in situations where it would otherwise be avoided. This in turn can provoke further escalation, conflict and distrust of authorities.
Samara McPhedran 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 Adrian Beaumont, Election Analyst (Psephologist) at The Conversation; and Honorary Associate, School of Mathematics and Statistics, The University of Melbourne
We now have the (almost!) final results from the 2025 federal election – with only Bradfield still to be completely resolved.
Labor won 94 of the 150 House of Representatives seats (up 17 from 77 of 151 in 2022), the Coalition 43 (down 15) and all Others 13 (down three). It also won 62.7% of seats, its highest seat share since 1943, when it won 49 of 75 seats (65.3% of seats).
Since the beginning of the two-party system in 1910, the 28.7% of seats for the Coalition is the lowest ever seat share for the Liberal and National parties combined, or their predecessors. The Coalition had won 23 of the 75 seats in 1943, its previous worst result (30.7% of seats).
The Poll Bludger said on Wednesday the Liberals could lodge a court challenge to their 26-vote loss in Bradfield to Teal Nicolette Boele within 40 days of the official declaration of the poll (return of the writs).
Owing to the possibility of a challenge in Bradfield, the Australian Electoral Commission does not want to disturb the ballot papers, which would be required for a Labor vs Liberal two-party count in Bradfield. A two-party count may not be completed until after the courts rule on any Liberal challenge.
This article has two-party votes and swings nationally, in metropolitan and non-metropolitan seats and in every state and territory. I will report the current AEC figures, but the Bradfield issue means they will overstate Labor slightly nationally, in metropolitan seats and in New South Wales.
Labor won the national two-party vote against the Coalition by 55.28–44.72, a 3.1% swing to Labor since the 2022 election. This is also Labor’s biggest two-party share since 1943, when they won by an estimated 58.2–41.8. Since the 2019 election, which the Coalition won by 51.5–48.5, Labor has had a swing to it of 6.8%.
The last time either major party won a higher seat share than Labor at this election was in 1996, when the Coalition won 94 of the 148 seats (63.5% of seats) on a national two-party vote of 53.6–46.4. The last time a major party exceeded Labor’s two-party share at this election was in 1975, when the Coalition won by 55.7–44.3.
Swing to Labor was bigger in cities
The AEC has breakdowns for metropolitan and non-metropolitan seats. Metropolitan seats include seats in the six state capitals, Canberra and Darwin. In these seats, Labor won the two-party vote by 60.7–39.3, a 4.1% swing to Labor. In non-metropolitan seats, the Coalition won the two-party by 52.3–47.7, a 1.8% swing to Labor.
In 2019, Labor won the two-party vote in metropolitan seats by 52.1–47.9, so the two-election swing to Labor in those seats was 8.6%. The Coalition won the two-party vote in non-metropolitan seats by 56.8–43.2, so the two-election swing to Labor was 4.5%.
In April 2022, I wrote that Labor could do better in future elections because Australia’s big cities have a large share of the overall population. At this election, voters in metropolitan seats made up 58.3% of all voters. The Coalition will need to do much better in the cities to win future elections.
In all the mainland states, the swing to Labor in the cities exceeded the swing in the regions. In global elections in the last ten years, support for left-wing parties has held up better in cities than elsewhere.
Tasmania was the big exception to this rule. In non-metropolitan Tasmanian seats, Labor won the two-party vote by 59.0–41.0, an 11.8% swing to Labor. In metropolitan seats, Labor won by 70.1–29.9, a 4.7% swing to Labor.
State and territory results
The table below shows the number of seats in a state or territory and nationally, the number won by Labor, the Labor percent of the seats, the number of Labor gains, the Labor two-party vote share, the two-party swing to Labor since 2022, the number of Other seats, the change in Other seats and the number of Coalition seats.
I have ignored redistributions, with Labor gains calculated as the number of seats Labor won in 2025 minus the number it won in 2022. Labor gained Aston at an April 2023 byelection, then held it at this election. As it was not won by Labor in 2022, it counts as a Labor gain.
In Queensland, Labor gained seven seats, five from the Liberal National Party (including Peter Dutton’s Dickson) and two from the Greens. But these gains came from a low base, as Labor won just five of 30 Queensland seats in 2022. Queensland remains the only state where the Coalition won the two-party vote (by 50.6–49.4) and won a majority of the seats.
In NSW, Teal independent-held North Sydney was abolished in the redistribution, but Teal Boele gained Bradfield from the Liberals, and the Nationals lost Calare to former Nationals MP turned independent Andrew Gee. Labor also gained two seats from the Liberals.
In Victoria, Labor-held Higgins was abolished, but Labor gained three seats from the Liberals and one from the Greens (Adam Bandt’s Melbourne). The Coalition gained its one seat when Liberal Tim Wilson narrowly defeated Teal Zoe Daniel in Goldstein.
In Western Australia, Bullwinkel was created as a notional Labor seat, and Labor held it. Labor also gained Moore from the Liberals. In South Australia and Tasmania, Labor gained three seats from the Liberals. Tasmania’s 9.0% swing to Labor was the biggest of any state or territory.
Before the election, it was expected Victoria would be a drag on Labor owing to the unpopularity of the state Labor government. Labor took 71% of Victoria’s seats and had a 1.5% two-party swing to it.
However, relative to the national swing, Victoria was poor for Labor, and it was only ahead of WA and the Northern Territory in swing terms at this election. In 2022, there was a huge 10.6% swing to Labor in WA, so Victoria’s two-election swing to Labor was much lower than anywhere else except the NT.
The ACT’s two-party swing of 5.5% to Labor followed a 5.3% swing in 2022. With two senators, a quota for election is one-third or 33.3%. If the ACT’s two senators keep going to the left, it will be difficult for the Coalition to avoid a hostile Senate even if they win elections for the House.
Other election results and a Morgan poll
In the previous parliament, the 16 Others included four Greens, but the 13 Others at this election include only one Green. This will make the Others more right-wing than in the last parliament.
Turnout at this election was 90.7% of enrolled voters, up 0.9% since 2022. But the informal rate rose 0.4% to 5.6%. The informal rate was 13% or higher in five western Sydney seats.
A large share of non-English speakers, confusion with NSW’s optional preferential voting system at state elections and long candidate lists all contributed to the high informal vote rate at this election.
A national Morgan poll, conducted May 5 to June 1 from a sample of 5,128, gave Labor a 58.5–41.5 lead, from primary votes of 37% Labor, 31% Coalition, 11.5% Greens, 6% One Nation and 14.5% for all Others. Labor led in all states including Queensland, the only state the Coalition won at the election.
Adrian Beaumont 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.
Earlier this year, I attended a housing conference in Sydney. The event’s opening address centred on the way Australia seems to be becoming like 18th-century England – a country where inheritance largely determines one’s opportunities in life.
There has been a lot of media coverage of economic inequities in Australian society. Our tax system has been partly blamed for this problem. The case for long-term, visionary tax reform has never been stronger. And one area of tax reform could be a wealth tax.
First, let’s be clear about one thing. Unlike the superannuation tax reforms currently being debated for those with more than A$3 million in superannuation, the wealth tax we’re talking about would apply to a very different cohort: billionaires.
A recent article in the Financial Times re-examined a proposal to impose such a tax on the world’s highest-net-worth individuals. It also pointed out these efforts would need to be globally coordinated.
Such taxes could collect significant sums of money for governments. It’s previously been estimated a billionaire tax could raise US$250 billion (more than A$380 billion) globally if just 2% of the net worth of the world’s billionaires was taxed each year.
The case for a wealth tax
Inequality is on the rise and the argument for a wealth tax can’t be ignored – not least here at home. According to the Australia Institute, the wealth of Australia’s richest 200 people has soared as a percentage of our national gross domestic product (GDP) – from 8.4% in 2004 to 23.7% in 2024.
If that sounds dramatic, the picture is far worse in the United States. So, what would a wealth tax look like in Australia (noting that in reality a globally coordinated effort would be needed)?
The starting point for this is understanding of why high-net-worth individuals seemingly pay very low taxes.
High net worth, low tax rate
Income taxes only take into account any amounts that are received in the hands of the taxpayer – whether that is a company, a person or a trust.
Most high-net-worth individuals do not receive much income directly but “store” their wealth in companies and other corporate structures.
In Australia, the maximum applicable tax rate for companies is 30%. Note that the highest tax rate in Australia for individuals is 45% plus the 2% medicare levy, effectively 47%.
Assets such as real estate may also be held by companies or trusts, and the increase in value of these assets is not taxed until they are sold (through capital gains tax).
Even then, those gains may not be paid out directly to the high-net-worth individual who owns these entities.
Unrealised gains
So, how do we tax wealth that is sitting in various businesses (company structures) or other entities, but isn’t taxed at present because the “income” or “gains” from these are not taxable in the hands of the wealthy individuals who own them?
This goes into the murky area of taxation of unrealised gains. Here, we need to tread very carefully. But we also need to recognise that we already do this, albeit rather subtly, and most of us are not billionaires.
In your rates notice from your local council, for example, the increase in value of your residence or investment property is used to calculate your rates.
The real difficulty, to carry on with this example, is that your residence or investment property is typically held in your name and so the tax can be directly levied on you.
A luxury residence in Miami Beach, Florida, owned by Jeff Bezos, founder of Amazon. The US is home to the most billionaires of any country in the world. Felix Mizioznikov/Shutterstock
Making tax unavoidable
As we’ve already explained, the bulk of the assets or net worth of wealthy individuals is not directly attributable to them. Does this mean we should give up altogether?
Not quite. UNSW professor Chris Evans has pointed out that while we may not be able to effectively tax all the net worth of the wealthy, there are some things we can tax and they can’t avoid it.
An obvious example is real estate. You can pack your bags and bank accounts and move to a low-tax country, but you can’t move your mansion overlooking Sydney Harbour.
Real estate, both residential and commercial, provides one clear way in which we could implement a partial wealth tax. This method (which also has fewer valuation issues than value stored in a company in the form of retained profits) also counters the argument that the wealthy will simply move to other jurisdictions that won’t tax them.
There is plenty of academic research looking at various wealth tax initiatives in other countries. We should learn from these, including the experience in Switzerland and Sweden.
In Sweden, for instance, research found the behavioural effects of wealth taxation were less pronounced than those of income taxation, but the system had so many loopholes that evasion was an option for some people.
Change faces headwinds
In a very uncertain world that features ongoing wars and an unpredictable US president, any change that seeks to address issues of inequity is going to be met with resistance by those who hold power.
Some billionaires in the US, however, have expressed their support for being taxed more in a letter signed by heirs to the Disney and Rockefeller fortunes. That offers some hope, and suggests the discussion about wealth taxes should not be relegated to the “too hard” basket.
Some steps towards taxing the uber-rich would be better than the status quo.
Venkat Narayanan 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.
Last week, President Donald Trump ordered an investigation into “who ran the United States while President Biden was in office”, alleging top aides masked the “cognitive decline” of his predecessor. The announcement referenced revelations in a new book by journalists Jake Tapper (CNN) and Alex Thompson (Axios).
Original Sin made headlines last month for revealing that Biden’s declining physical and cognitive health had been hidden from the public by his closest aides and his loyal but overly protective wife, Jill Biden.
Whatever merit there is in Trump’s order must be seen alongside his bottomless cynicism. He seizes on the two authors’ investigative journalism to continue tarnishing his predecessor’s reputation, while doing everything in his power to bully news companies such as CBS over almost meritless defamation cases and to cut the funding of public media organisations PBS and NPR.
Review: Original Sin – Jake Tapper and Alex Thompson (Hutchinson Heinemann)
In November 2020, Biden was seen by many as a hero. He won the American election and saved the country from Donald Trump, who scholars judged among the worst presidents in the nation’s history, not least because just over 384,500 people died from COVID-19 that year.
Today, just as many see Biden as a villain. He said he would be a “bridge” president. He knew he would have ended his second term aged 86 if he had won and served it, so said he would hand over to a successor well in time for the 2024 election. But he didn’t. Not until three and a half weeks after his wincingly bad performance in a debate with Trump last June.
By then it was too late for his Democratic Party to go through its usual primaries process. Biden anointed his vice president Kamala Harris as his successor, but with only 107 days to campaign before the election, it is more accurate to say he gave her what football commentators call a “hospital pass”.
Donald Trump regained the presidency. Four months into his second term, all but his most loyal supporters (and this time he has made sure to surround himself only with loyal supporters) think it is already much worse than his first.
Whatever Biden achieved in his presidency is being forgotten amid the horror at watching America’s democratic institutions assaulted by an authoritarian leader determined to undo Biden’s policies, especially on climate change.
What on earth happened? How much responsibility does Biden bear? Did the news media subject Biden to sufficient scrutiny before the debate last June? Was everyone except the MAGA base suffering from a new variant of what conservative commentators long ago dubbed “Trump derangement syndrome”?
In short order, the answers are: Biden declined faster and worse than had been anticipated; a lot; the media possibly didn’t scrutinise him enough, but it’s more complicated than that – and, yes, “Trump derangement syndrome” was a factor, though not quite in the way conservative commentators thought.
Clooney’s alarm
Original Sin’s most spectacular revelation was that at a Democrat fundraising event last year, Biden did not appear to recognise George Clooney – who as well as being an actor, is a longtime Democrat supporter and a friend of the president.
Clooney was shocked by Biden’s frail appearance. “Holy shit,” he thought, according to the authors, as he watched Biden enter the room, taking tiny steps with “an aide guiding him by his arm”. The book describes the excruciating moment in detail:
“You know George,” the assisting aide told the president, gently reminding him who was in front of him.
“Yeah, yeah,” the president said to one of the most recognizable men in the world, the host of this lucrative fundraiser. “Thank you for being here.”
“Hi, Mr. President,” Clooney said.
“How are ya?” the president replied.
“How was your trip?” Clooney asked.
“It was fine,” the president said.
It was obvious to many standing there that the president did not know who George Clooney was. […]
“George Clooney,” the aide clarified for the president.
“Oh, yeah!” Biden said. “Hi, George!”
A Hollywood VIP who witnessed the moment told the authors “it was not okay”, describing it as “uncomfortable”. Clooney felt he had to sound the alarm publicly, which he did in an impassioned opinion piece for The New York Times a few weeks later, on July 10. He wrote about how he loved and respected Biden, but
the one battle he cannot win is the fight against time. None of us can. It’s devastating to say it, but the Joe Biden I was with three weeks ago at the fund-raiser was not the Joe ‘big F-ing deal’ Biden of 2010. He wasn’t even the Joe Biden of 2020. He was the same man we all witnessed at the debate.
Just days after publicity about the book began, news broke that Biden has stage four prostate cancer – and that he had not had a prostate test for more than a decade.
The ‘loyalty police’
Tapper and Thompson’s book derives not only from their day jobs, but from reporting they have done since last November’s election, including interviews with 200 people. Some of them, even now, prefer to speak on background rather than be named.
Through them, they tell a bracing story with three main themes.
First, there is the unblinking loyalty of close aides. Chief strategist Mike Donilon had been with Biden since 1981. Bruce Reed was a speechwriter and longtime political consultant. Steve Ricchetti had been Biden’s chief of staff when he was vice president, and was also a friend who would watch the morning political shows with him. All four of Richetti’s children worked in the Biden administration, the authors write.
Jill Biden’s longtime aides, Annie Tomasini and Anthony Bernal, were fiercely protective of the Bidens as much as the office of the president. “Are you a Biden person?” they would ask, leading other aides to label them the “loyalty police”.
Collectively, the close aides were known as The Politburo. Kamala Harris’ aides called them a “cabal of the unhelpful”. Time and again, they responded to queries about Biden’s health with firm assurances he was doing fine – even though the president needed to be supplied with cue cards when he was meeting his cabinet secretaries.
Biden, like previous presidents, had an annual medical check-up and was given a clean bill of health. But doctors outside the White House noted that his cognitive abilities were not tested. Asked about this, aides – and Biden himself – would say he passed a cognitive test every day of his presidency, which was a superficially plausible but practically meaningless statement.
Some aides genuinely believed in Biden, while others harboured doubts. The latter suppressed those to focus on the task of defeating Trump in 2024. One told Tapper and Thompson: “He just had to win, and then he could disappear for four years – he’d only have to show proof of life every once in a while.” Which sounds pretty much like the plot of the 1989 movie, Weekend at Bernie’s, except the situation was anything but comic.
Biden’s aides admonished journalists, including Alex Thompson, for even raising the issue of the president’s health. Worse, they shielded Biden from what his own pollsters were saying about his dire prospects for re-election.
The oldest presidential candidates
For Biden, work usually began at 9am, included two hours in the afternoon for “POTUS time”, and finished at 4.30pm when he had dinner. Availability for evening events was limited. By 2024, cabinet secretaries in the Biden administration told Tapper and Thompson that Biden could not be relied upon to be available at 2am for the kind of emergency the presidency can require.
After the Senate Republican Leader Mitch McConnell, born the same year as Biden, froze in public a second time, in 2023, his fellow Republican Nikki Haley said, “The Senate is the most privileged nursing home in the country […] You have to know when to leave.”
When the Democrats did unexpectedly well at the 2022 midterm elections, Biden’s aides took that as a sign he should run again, rather than note the level of protest in the midterm vote, which came soon after the Supreme Court overturned the 1973 Roe v Wade decision on abortion.
The opinion polls, though, were telling. An early November 2022 Ipsos poll had the president’s approval rating at a low 39%, Tapper and Thompson report. Two thirds of those surveyed said they thought the country was on the wrong track. When Ipsos ran a poll after the midterm election, 68% said Biden might not be up for the challenge of running in 2024. Worse, almost half of Democrats agreed.
Biden’s aides may have been right to marvel at what their boss could still do, and to resent the media harping on about Biden’s age while turning a blind eye to his cheeseburger-chomping, Coke-slurping political nemesis, only four years younger. The bitter fact for them is that by 2020 Biden looked and sounded frail while Trump looked and sounded commanding.
Trump may have lied repeatedly during the debate last June, but in a real sense that was not news; Trump lies as easily as he breathes. What was news was watching a mumbling, open-mouthed US president freeze on live television.
Grisly anecdotes and Hunter Biden
Original Sin is replete with grisly anecdotes about Biden’s decrepitude. “The guy can’t form a fucking sentence”, thought one aide attending to him onboard Air Force One. This leads to the second main theme: the tragic circumstances that appear to have accelerated the decline.
It is well known that personal tragedy has scarred – and in crucial ways shaped – Biden’s life and career. He lost his first wife, Neilia, and their one-year-old daughter, Naomi, in a car accident in 1972. Their young sons, Beau and Hunter, were in the car. They survived but Hunter suffered a fractured skull, an injury with lifelong effects, according to Tapper and Thompson.
Beau served as an army officer in the Iraq war. On his return, he was elected attorney-general of Delaware in 2006 and 2010. He planned to run for governor in 2016. But a year earlier, the brain cancer for which he was first treated in 2013 recurred; he died in May 2015. In a worrying precursor to later actions, the Bidens kept Beau’s illness a secret. “Beau’s death aged him significantly,” a longtime Biden confidant told Tapper and Thompson. “His shoulders looked smaller. His face looked more gaunt. In his eyes, you could just see it.”
A year later, Hunter Biden became addicted to crack cocaine. Ashley, Biden’s daughter by his second wife Jill, also struggled with addiction. Both spiralled downwards after Beau’s death, which weighed heavily on their father. As the authors write:
After Beau’s death in 2015, Biden desperately and understandably clung to Hunter. He would privately refer to him as ‘my only living son.’ But Biden aides felt that Hunter manipulated his father’s blind love for his own aims. The president struggled to say no to Hunter. Aides felt that he had tragically become Hunter’s chief enabler.
In 2021 Hunter published a memoir, Beautiful Things, and travelled round the country in an effort to provide hope to others struggling with addiction. The memoir’s candour provided valuable information to David Weiss, a special counsel appointed by Attorney-General Merrick Garland in 2023.
Weiss had been previously appointed by the first Trump administration to investigate the contents of a laptop Hunter Biden left at a repair shop. Biden had not interfered with Garland’s decision, as he did not want to be seen as behaving the way his predecessor had.
Weiss charged Hunter Biden over his possession of a handgun while being addicted to cocaine. A plea deal broke down and Hunter faced trial in 2024. The Biden family attended each day of the trial. Biden felt guilty, believing Hunter would never have been on trial if he wasn’t the president’s son.
There is little doubt the Republicans weaponised Hunter Biden’s actions, but he gave them plenty of ammunition. He had had an extramarital affair with his brother’s widow and had introduced her to cocaine, to which she became addicted. There is more, but you get the (tawdry) picture.
Then, after the election in November, Biden did what he had repeatedly said he wouldn’t, exercising his power as president to pardon his son. It may have been the understandable action of a besieged father, but Biden did not frame it that way, blaming Garland, wrongly, for pursuing the case.
Equally to the point, the authors report that Trump’s lawyers took note, believing the Hunter Biden pardon “gave them a great deal of leeway on whether they could pardon and free from prison the hundreds of convicted January 6 insurrectionists” from the 2021 Capitol riot. Which of course Trump did as soon as he took office in January 2025.
The old adage has it that two wrongs don’t make a right. But for a politician who had won the presidency promising to be everything Trump was not, it was a fatal, final blow to Biden’s credibility.
The media ‘missed a lot’
The third theme of the book asks how much of all this the news media reported during Biden’s presidency. Some, but not all of it – including some by Thompson, who recently won a White House Correspondents’ Association award for his disclosures.
Both he and his co-author acknowledge they and other journalists did not dig hard enough to reveal the extent to which the Biden administration was hampered by the president’s declining health. Said Thompson:
Being truth-tellers also means telling the truth about ourselves. We – myself included – missed a lot of this story, and some people trust us less because of it […] We should have done better.“
It is worth keeping this in perspective. The news media’s failings in the lead up to the Iraq war in 2003 were more significant. Then, too many journalists swallowed the administration’s lines justifying its decision to invade a country, while the work of those who did report sceptically was buried well inside the newspaper. There, it “played as quietly as a lullaby”, as The New York Times’ first public editor, Daniel Okrent, wrote in 2003.
The war’s reporting led to a lot of soul searching in American newsrooms. If there was a coverup in the media about the Biden administration, it wasn’t very effective, wrote media critic Jon Allsop in the New Yorker. “Not least because the majority of the public thought Biden was too old long before the debate.”
The other element infecting both the mainstream media and social media is divisiveness, rancour and hostility. It is hard, for journalists and the public, to see political information other than through a hyper-partisan lens. I felt this acutely when reading the section in Original Sin about Biden getting drawn into the FBI’s investigation of Trump for withholding classified documents – when the FBI found Biden had done essentially the same thing. (Though it should be stressed Biden, unlike Trump, cooperated at all times.)
‘Well-meaning, elderly man with a poor memory’
It was through this investigation that special counsel Robert Hur’s recording of a long interview with Biden came to light. Journalists were backgrounded that Hur was a right-wing operative; he was anything but that, write Tapper and Thompson. He treated Biden fairly and respectfully. In the interview, excerpts of which run to seven pages of the book, Biden rambles and needs regular reminding of facts – including the year his son Beau died.
In Hur’s report, released in 2024, he found Biden had inappropriately retained classified documents but he did not recommend pressing charges. To a jury, Hur concluded, Biden would present “as a sympathetic, well-meaning, elderly man with a poor memory”. He was making the kind of decision prosecutors routinely make about the likelihood of a conviction.
Hur was attacked by the White House and much of the media as a partisan warrior who had brought up the death of the president’s son in the interview, when it was Biden who mentioned it himself. If Hur really had been a partisan warrior, the authors write, he would have recommended continuing with the prosecution.
Several months later, after the disastrous Biden-Trump debate, friends and colleagues texted Hur saying he must have felt vindicated. “Hur told them that all he felt was sad. How could anyone look at Joe Biden at that debate and not feel bad?”
It is true that aides, and sometimes the news media, have covered up previous presidents’ health issues, such as Franklin Roosevelt’s paralysis from polio, John Kennedy’s debilitating back pain that required heavy doses of painkillers, and Ronald Reagan’s Alzheimer’s disease.
Tapper and Thompson argue the coverup of Biden’s health problems is the most consequential in presidential history.
Underplays Biden’s achievements
The authors successfully prosecute their case about Biden’s responsibility for his own demise. Perhaps worried they may not be believed by Democrat supporters, they continue amassing evidence well beyond that point, which means the minutiae of aides continuing to deny the reality of Biden’s decline becomes repetitive.
Their relentless focus on Biden’s decline also means they underplay both his achievements as a president and the breadth of his character. At one point, they admiringly refer to Richard Ben Cramer’s book about the 1988 presidential campaign, What it Takes, which includes Biden’s failed attempt to win the Democratic nomination for the presidency.
Cramer’s book is a massive 1,047 pages. He interviewed more than a thousand people and took so long on the book it came out during the next presidential campaign, in which Bill Clinton was elected.
One reviewer, Richard Brownstein, wrote of it: “Presidential elections are the white whale of American journalism – and in Cramer they have found a manic Melville.” But it is written in an intimate, novelistic style, taking the reader deep into the lives and thoughts and feelings of the candidates, George H.W Bush, Bob Dole, Michael Dukakis, Richard Gephardt, Gary Hart and Biden.
Cramer told Robert Boynton in an interview for his 2005 book, The New New Journalism, he was amazed political journalists spend so little time talking to childhood friends, family and early colleagues.
If you want to understand how someone got to the point where he [sic] is a credible candidate for president of a nation of 250 million people, you’d better godamn-well know how he is wonderful. But most journalists don’t care about that.
As such, Cramer provides a deeper, richer portrait of Biden as an idiosyncratic and flawed, but also impressive politician, who was a force of nature in his youth. By comparison, Original Sin reads like an autopsy: which in a way, it is. If you want to remember why Biden became an effective politician in the first place, seek out a copy of What it Takes.
In the end, though, whatever achievements Biden had as president are being overtaken by his disastrous decision to try to hang on for a second term. By the evidence presented in Original Sin, “Honest Joe” was, like many politicians, prey to ego and overvaulting ambition, and prone to secrecy when it suited him.
He and his aides thought – and astonishingly still do think – he was the person best able to repel the return of a person they feared (with good reason) would do enormous damage to the country. Biden said this after the November election, earning Harris’s ire, for which he apologised, and Donilon affirmed it in an interview with the authors early this year.
The savage irony is, by their actions, Biden and his team eased Trump’s path to victory last November. Now, it is not just Americans but the rest of the world who are left to deal with the second Trump administration.
Matthew Ricketson 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.
_(cropped).jpg){kind=link}
