Among the 138 recommendations of the Abuse in Care Royal Commission of Inquiry’s final report to parliament was a clear call: remove the legal time limits that prevent survivors of historic abuse from seeking justice in civil court.
Without that reform, survivors of historic abuse remain vulnerable to being turned away by the legal system – not because their experiences aren’t credible, but because the law still treats them as being out of time.
The royal commission heard from thousands of survivors of childhood abuse in the care of state and faith-based institutions between 1950 and 1999. What stood out was how often that harm was made worse by silence, disbelief and legal systems that failed to respond.
Limitation periods in abuse cases
Under New Zealand law, people generally have six years from the time a harm occurs to bring a civil claim. That limit is set out in the Limitation Act 2010 for events after 2011, and in the Limitation Act 1950 for events before that.
For survivors of historic abuse, particularly childhood abuse, that six-year window rarely reflects how trauma actually works. Survivors often take decades to feel sufficiently safe and supported to come forward and name what happened to them.
The 1950 law allowed limitation periods to be paused if a claimant was under a “disability” – a legal term meaning they were either a child or, in the language of the time, of “unsound mind”. In practice, this meant the six-year clock usually didn’t start for children until they reached adulthood.
The 2010 law clarified this by explicitly saying the limitation period for children begins at 18. It also introduced a new “incapacitated” exception, allowing the clock to pause for adults who are unable to make decisions or take legal action because of trauma or other conditions.
But in practice it’s a narrow doorway. Courts require survivors to prove not just trauma, but a high legal incapacity threshold.
This means that even when the abuse is acknowledged, and even when survivors have strong evidence, civil cases are often barred. The bar is not that the harm didn’t happen, but that it happened “too long ago”.
How civil time limits deny justice
In 2019, former Air Force servicewoman Mariya Taylor brought a civil claim against the sergeant who had sexually abused her in the 1980s while both were stationed at the Whenuapai base.
The court accepted the abuse had occurred. But because Taylor was not legally considered “disabled” by trauma, and the six-year window had closed, her case was struck out under the Limitation Act 1950. Adding insult to injury, she was ordered to pay costs to her abuser.
At 18, Taylor had entered a rigid military hierarchy where power and discipline made reporting abuse nearly impossible.
Her case shows how limitation periods can block even well-evidenced claims, and how institutional dynamics such as silence, shame and obedience often delay disclosure.
These same patterns were pivotal to the royal commission’s findings.
Survivors can now bring civil claims regardless of how long ago the abuse occurred. In landmark case in 2023, GLJ v. The Trustees of the Roman Catholic Church for the Diocese of Lismore, the High Court of Australia rejected a request to shut down proceedings even though the alleged abuser and other witnesses had died. The court said the case could still go ahead using available evidence.
The GLJ decision is important for New Zealand courts. It shows that while removing time bars doesn’t guarantee victory for survivors, it does give them the chance to be heard.
Delayed but not denied
Removing time limits for civil claims involving historic abuse, as the royal commission recommended, is now overdue.
A first step would be for the government to clearly commit to amending the Limitation Act 2010 to exclude claims of historic abuse – especially child sexual abuse – from the six-year deadline.
This would bring New Zealand into line with Australia and recognise what we now know about the delayed nature of disclosure, trauma and institutional silence. It would also honour the spirit of the royal commission’s work.
As courts and commissions have recognised, removing limitation periods doesn’t guarantee a win for survivors. But it does mean they’re at least allowed to try.
For years, survivors have been told they’ve spoken too late. Reforming limitation laws won’t undo the harm they suffered. But it will show their testimony matters, and that justice delayed does not have to mean justice denied.
Zoë Prebble 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.
Late in the evening, the Antarctic sky flushes pink. The male leopard seal wakes and slips from the ice into the water. There, he’ll spend the night singing underwater amongst the floating ice floes.
For the next two months he sings every night. He will sing so loudly, the ice around him vibrates. Each song is a sequence of trills and hoots, performed in a particular pattern.
In a world first, we analysed leopard seal songs and found the predictability of their patterns was remarkably similar to the nursery rhymes humans sing.
We think this is a deliberate strategy. While leopard seals are solitary animals, the males need their call to carry clearly across vast stretches of icy ocean, to woo a mate.
Solitary leopard seals want their call to carry. Ozge Elif Kizil/Anadolu Agency via Getty Images
Leopard seals are especially vocal during breeding season, which lasts from late October to early January. A female leopard seal sings for a few hours on the days she is in heat. But the males are the real showstoppers.
Each night, the males perform underwater solos for up to 13 hours. They dive into the sea, singing underwater for about two minutes before returning to the water’s surface to breathe and rest. This demanding routine continues for weeks.
Within a leopard seal population, the sounds themselves don’t vary much in pitch or duration. But the order and pattern in which the sounds are produced varies considerably between individuals.
Our research examined these individual songs. We compared them to that of other vocal animals, and to human music.
Listening to songs from the sea
The data used in the study was collected by one author of this article, Tracey Rogers, in the 1990s.
Rogers rode her quad bike across the Antarctic ice to the edge of the sea and marked 26 individual male seals with dye as they slept. Then she returned to record their songs at night.
The new research involved analysing these recordings, to better understand their structure and patterns. We did this by measuring the “entropy” of their sequences. Entropy measures how predictable or random a sequence is.
What stood out was the similarity between the predictability of human nursery rhymes and leopard seal calls. Nursery rhymes are simple, repetitive and easy to remember — and that’s what we heard in the leopard seal songs.
The range of “entropy” was similar to the 39 nursery rhymes from the Golden Song Book, a collection of words and sheet music for classic children’s songs, which was first published in 1945. It includes classics such:
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star
Frère Jacques
Ring Around a Rosy
Baa, Baa, Black Sheep
Humpty Dumpty
Three Blind Mice
Rockabye Baby.
For humans, the predictable structure of a nursery rhyme melody helps make it simple enough for a child to learn. For a leopard seal, this predictability may enable the individual to learn its song and keep singing it over multiple days. This consistency is important, because changes in pitch or frequency can create miscommunication.
Like sperm whales, leopard seals may also use song to set themselves apart from others and signal their fitness to reproduce. The greater structure in the songs helps ensure listeners accurately receive the message and identify who is singing.
Male leopard seals produce high-pitched cricket-like trills.
An evolving song?
Leopard seals sound very different to humans. But our research shows the complexity and structure of their songs is remarkably similar to our own nursery rhymes.
Communication through song is a very common animal behaviour. However, structure and predictability in mammal song has only been studied in a handful of species. We know very little about what drives it.
Understanding animal communication is important. It can improve conservation efforts and animal welfare, and provide important information about animal cognition and evolution.
Technology has advanced rapidly since our recordings were made in the 1990s. In future, we hope to revisit Antarctica to record and study further, to better understand if new call types have emerged, and if patterns of leopard seal song evolve from generation to generation.
Tracey Rogers receives funding from ARC.
Lucinda Chambers 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.
Jason Momoa’s historical epic Chief of War, launching August 1 on Apple TV+, is a triumph of Hawaiians telling their own stories – despite the fact their film and TV production industry now struggles to be viable.
The series stars Momoa (Aquaman, Game of Thrones) as Kaʻaina, an ali’i (chief) who fights for – and later rises against – King Kamehameha I during the bloody reunification of Hawaii.
Already receiving advance praise, the nine-episode first season co-stars New Zealand actors Temeura Morrison, Cliff Curtis and Luciane Buchanan, alongside Hawaiian actors Kaina Makua, Brandon Finn and Moses Goods.
A passion project for Momoa, the Hawaiian star co-created the series with writer Thomas Pa’a Sibbett after years in development. With a reported budget of US$340 million, it is one of the most expensive television series ever produced.
It is also a milestone in Kānaka Maoli (Native Hawaiian) representation onscreen. Controversially, however, the production only spent a month in Hawaiʻi, and was mostly shot in New Zealand with non-Hawaiian crews.
Momoa has even expressed an interest in New Zealand citizenship, but the choice of location is more a reflection of the troubled state of the film industry in Hawaiʻi. On the other hand, it is a measure of the success of the New Zealand screen industry, with potential lessons for other countries in the Pacific.
Ea o Moʻolelo – story sovereignty
Set at the turn of the 19th century, Chief of War tells the moʻolelo (story, history) of King Kamehameha I’s conquest of the archipelago.
Hawaiʻi was historically governed by aliʻi nui (high chiefs), and each island was ruled independently. Motivated by the threat of European colonisation and empowered by Western weaponry, Kamehameha established the Hawaiian Kingdom, culminating in full unification in 1810.
The series is an important example of what authors Dean Hamer and Kumu Hinaleimoana Wong-Kalu have called “Ea o Moʻolelo”, or story sovereignty, which emphasises Indigenous peoples’ right to control their own narrative by respecting the “the inalienable right of a story to its own unique contents, style and purpose”.
Chief of War is also the biggest Hawaiian television series ever produced. Although Hawaiʻi remains a popular setting onscreen, these productions have rarely involved Hawaiians in key decision-making roles.
Sea of troubles
The series hits screens at a time of major disruption in Hollywood, with streaming services upending established business models.
“Linear” network television faces declining viewership and advertising revenue. Movie studios struggle to draw audiences to theatres. The consequences for workers in the the industry have been severe, as the 2023 writers strike showed.
Those changes have had a catastrophic impact on the Hawaiʻi film industry, too.
Long a popular location – Hawaii Five-O (1968-1980, 2010-2020), Magnum P.I. (1980-1988, 2018-2024) and Lost (2004-2010) were all shot on location in Hawaiʻi – it is an expensive place to film.
Actors, crew and production equipment often have to be flown in from the continental United States, and producers compete with tourism for costly accommodation.
Kaina Makua as King Kamehameha and New Zealand actor Luciane Buchanan as Ka’ahumanu in Chief of War. Apple TV+
An industry in transition
These are not uncommon problems in distant locations, and many governments try to attract screen productions through tax incentives and rebates on portions of the production costs.
New Zealand, for example, offers a 20-25% rebate for international productions and 40% for local productions. Hawaiʻi offers a 22-27% rebate.
But this is less than other US states offer, such as Georgia (30%), Louisiana (40%) and New Mexico (40%). Hawaiʻi also has an annual cap of US$50 million on rebates.
To make things even harder, Hawaiʻi offers only limited support for Indigenous filmmakers. Governments in Australia and New Zealand provide targeted funding and support for Aboriginal, Torres Strait Islander and Māori filmmakers.
By contrast, the Hawaiʻi Film Commission doesn’t provide direct grants to local filmmakers or producers (Indigenous or otherwise). Small amounts of government funding have been administered through the Public Broadcasting Service, but this is now in jeopardy after US President Donald Trump recently cut federal funding.
The Hawaiʻi screen industry faces a perfect storm. For the first time since 2004, film and TV production has ground to a halt. Many workers now doubt the long-term sustainability of their careers.
Lessons from Aotearoa NZ
While there are lessons Hawaiʻi legislators and industry leaders could learn from New Zealand’s example, there should also be a measure of caution.
The Hawaiʻi tax credit system is out of date. But despite industry lobbying, legislation to update it failed to reach the floor of the legislature earlier this year. New tax settings would help make local production viable again.
Secondly, decades of investment in Māori cinema have seen it become diverse, engaging and creatively accomplished. Hawaiʻi could benefit from greater direct investment in Hawaiian storytelling, respecting its cultural value even if it doesn’t turn a commercial profit.
On the other hand, New Zealand has a favourable currency exchange rate with the US which can’t be replicated in Hawaiʻi. And New Zealand film production workers have seen their rights to unionise watered down compared to their American peers.
But if Hawaiʻi can get its settings right, a possible second season of Chief of War may yet be filmed there, which could mark a genuine rejuvenation of its own film industry.
Duncan Caillard 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.
Without even realising it, your world sometimes gradually gets smaller: less walking, fewer days in the office, cancelling on friends. Watching plans disintegrate on the chat as friends struggle to settle on a date or place for a catch-up.
You might start to feel a bit flat or disconnected. Subtle changes in habit and mood take hold. Could you be … lonely?
It’s not a label many of us identify with easily, especially if you know you’ve got friends, or are in a happy relationship.
But loneliness can happen to us all from time to time – and identifying it is the first step to fixing it.
So, what is loneliness?
Loneliness is the distress we feel when our relationships don’t meet our needs – in quality or quantity.
It’s not the same as being objectively alone (otherwise known as “social isolation”).
You can feel deeply lonely even while surrounded by friends, or totally content on your own.
Loneliness is subjective; many people don’t realise they’re lonely until the feeling becomes persistent.
What are some of the signs to look for?
You may feel a physicalcoldness, emptiness or hollowness (I’ve heard it described as feeling like you are missing an organ). Some research shows social pain is experienced similarly in the brain to physical pain.
In the past, being separated from your tribe meant danger and risk from predators, so our brains developed a way to push us back towards connection.
The pain of loneliness is designed to keep us connected and safe.
Why is it often hard to recognise loneliness?
Sadly, there’s still a lot of stigma around admitting loneliness, especially for men.
Many people resist identifying as lonely, or feel this marks them as a “loser”.
But this silence can make the problem worse.
When no one talks about it, it becomes harder to break the cycle of loneliness, and the stigma remains.
While passing loneliness is normal, chronic or persistent loneliness can hurt our health.
Research shows chronic loneliness is associated with:
depression
anxiety
weakened immunity
heart disease
earlier death.
Loneliness can also become self-reinforcing. When loneliness feels normal, it can start to shape how you see the world: you expect rejection, withdraw more and the cycle deepens.
The earlier you notice you’re lonely, the easier it is to break.
But I’m in a relationship, have loads of friends and a rewarding job
Yes, but you can still be lonely.
Most of us need different kinds of relationships to thrive. It’s not about how many people you know, but whether you feel connected and have a meaningful role in these relationships.
You may feel lonely even with strong friendships if you are lacking deeper connection, shared identity or a sense of community.
This doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful, or a bad friend.
It just means you need more or different kinds of connection.
OK, I’ve realised I am lonely. Now what?
Start by asking yourself: what kind of connection am I missing?
Is it one-to-one friendships? A partner? Casual social interactions? A shared purpose or community?
Then reflect on what’s helped you feel more connected in the past. For some, it’s joining a choir, a book club or a sports group. For others, it may be volunteering or just saying “yes” to small social moments, like chatting with your local barista or learning the name of the local butcher.
If you’re still struggling, a psychologist can help with tailored strategies for building connection.
The structural causes of loneliness
It’s also important to remember loneliness is often not because of personal failings or overall mental health.
We are also learning more about how climate change can disrupt social connection and worsen loneliness due to, for example, higher temperatures or bushfires.
Loneliness is normal, common, human and completely solvable.
Start by noticing it in yourself and reach out if you can.
Let’s start talking about it more, so others can feel less alone too.
Marlee Bower receives funding from the Henry Halloran Urban and Regional Research Initiative, the BHP Foundation, AHURI and NHMRC. She is affiliated with the University of Sydney Matilda Centre for Research in Mental Health and Substance Use and Australia’s Mental Health Think Tank.
The money is easy to trace. Scroll back through tech entrepreneur Peter Thiel’s political donations and you’ll soon hit US$15 million worth of transfers sent to Protect Ohio Values, JD Vance’s campaign fund. The donations, made in 2022, are a staggering contribution to an individual senate race, and helped put Vance (Thiel’s former employee at tech fund Mithril Capital) on a winning trajectory.
But if money matters, so do ideas. Scroll back through Vance’s speeches, and you’ll hear echoes of Thiel’s voice. The decline of US elites (and by extension, the nation) is supposedly a result of technological stagnation: declining innovation, trivial distractions, broken infrastructure. To make the nation great again, Thiel believes, tech should come first, corporates should be unshackled, and the state should resemble the startup. For Vance, who has now risen to the office of US vice-president, a Thiel talk on these topics at Yale Law was “the most significant moment” of his time there.
Thiel’s influence on politics is at once financial, technical and ideological. In the New York Times, he was recently described as the “most influential right-wing intellectual of the last 20 years”. And his potent cocktail of networks, money, strategy and support exerts a rightward force on the political landscape. It establishes a powerful pattern for up-and-coming figures to follow.
To “hedge fund investor” and “tech entrepreneur”, Thiel has recently added a new label: Republican kingmaker.
Who is Peter Thiel?
Thiel was born in Germany but grew up in the United States, with a childhood sojourn in apartheid South Africa. Max Chafkin’s critical but balanced biography, The Contrarian, claims Thiel was bullied growing up and protected himself by becoming resolutely “disdainful”. He studied philosophy and then law at Stanford, where he founded The Stanford Review, a libertarian–conservative student paper that signalled his early interest in controversial politics and culture wars.
While difficult to pin down precisely, Thiel’s Christianity shapes his belief in a declining or even apocalyptic world that can only be countered with unapologetic interventions and technological innovations. God helps those who help themselves – but could always use additional help from ambitious tech elites.
In 1998, Thiel cofounded his first tech company, Confinity, which launched its flagship product PayPal in 1999 and merged with Elon Musk’s X.com in 2000. In 2002, eBay bought PayPal for $1.5 billion and Thiel became a multimillionaire. He invested in several startups, including Facebook, and established his hedge fund, Clarium, and his venture capital firm, Founders Fund.
In their own ways, each of these developments is a response to Thiel’s thesis that the world is stuck. In his 2011 essay The End of the Future, he decries the “soft totalitarianism of political correctness in media and academia” and the “sordid world” of entertainment. The result is “50 years of stagnation” that has transformed humanity “into this more docile kind of a species”.
Thiel’s answer is more risk, more tech and more ambition. It’s exemplified most clearly by Palantir Technologies, the data analytics firm he cofounded in 2004.
Palantir has worked closely with US armed forces and intelligence agencies for 14 years. It is currently working closely with the Trump administration to create a “super-database” of combined data from all federal agencies, and building a platform for Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) “to track migrant movements in real time”.
Investing in right-wing politics
Thiel’s political interventions have ramped up over time. Libertarianism generally takes an arms-length approach to politics in favour of individual freedom and market determination. But even in “purely” financial spaces, politics creeps in.
Clarium’s macroeconomic approach meant the political landscape had to be factored in: “high-conviction, directional investments based on key drivers of the global economy and fundamental themes underappreciated by the marketplace”.
If politics, like technology, had stagnated – into a non-choice between similar parties – how could it be “disrupted”? Thiel began making political donations in December 2011, with contributions totalling at least $2.6 million, to the third presidential campaign of Ron Paul, a longstanding conservative congressman in Texas.
While Paul would ultimately be unsuccessful, Thiel recognised something others had missed. Voters had not been attracted to some idealistic libertarian, as the media portrayed him, but to the old Ron Paul, a neoconservative whose newsletters published in his name in the 1980s and ‘90s suggested 95% of Black men in Washington DC were criminals. (He denied writing them in 2011, calling the statements “terrible”.) His appeal was never “merely” about economic freedom, but about race and class, fear and grievance.
Donald Trump took this dark undercurrent, a strain that has always underpinned parts of US politics, and ran with it. Dog-whistles were dispensed with in favour of overt claims that most illegal immigrants were rapists, certain Latin American countries were shitholes, women were bitches, and white supremacists were “very fine people”. Trump, noted one article, was “weaponizing the conservative id”.
In these visions, multiculturalism and progressivism are not just cultural threats, but economic ones. They undermine the ability of company founders to exploit labour, blow past regulations, and obey the brutal logic of the market.
“A world safe for capitalism is presumably one of monopoly companies and patriarchal networks,” note media scholars Ben Little and Alison Winch in their profile of Thiel. It’s a world “where ‘the multiculture’ has been transformed into racialised domination”.
Thiel has certainly contributed to the rise of Trump and the new breed of right-wing politicians through his vast wealth. In 2016, Thiel contributed $1.25 million to Trump’s campaign, thinking “he had a 50-50 chance of winning”. This earned him a speaking slot at the Republican convention. But his influence extends beyond mere money.
Thiel’s endorsement of Trump at the 2016 Republican convention was hugely significant for garnering support. So was his famous declaration there that he was proud to be gay, Republican and American. After Trump won his first term, Thiel continued to be involved. He joined the transition team and recommended aligned individuals for key positions, such as Michael Kratsios, who would become chief technology officer.
So, Thiel’s support of Trump should be understood as an investment, just like his early investments in PayPal and Facebook. As Chafkin notes, Thiel’s bet on Trump is a wager with high upsides and low risk. Thiel’s outspoken views in favour of “seasteading” (floating independent city-states) and against immigration and women’s emancipation had already alienated the more progressive sectors of Silicon Valley.
If the bet paid off, Thiel and his empire could benefit handsomely. And this is exactly what has played out. Since Trump has taken office in his second term, Palantir has already netted more than $113 million in federal government spending.
Palantir: from information to domination
Palantir’s origin story reflects its blend of technical expertise and political ambition. To combat rising fraud, members of PayPal developed a software tool that could mine vast amounts of transactions and find the connections between them, homing in on a handful of culprits in a deluge of data.
Thiel was prescient in spinning this core idea from finance to intelligence, where analysts were searching for patterns and anomalies amid the noise – a needle in a haystack. Palantir commercialised and expanded this concept, bringing a leaner, data-driven Silicon Valley approach to a sector dominated by established Washington incumbents.
Thiel and Palantir chief executive Alex Karp believe Silicon Valley has lost its way, frittering away its vast talents and ingenuity on trivial pursuits: advertising, gaming, social media. For them, the era of ambitious scientific projects and unapologetic military industrial collaborations – the Manhattan Project, the Moon landing — needs to be revived.
In his book, the Technological Republic, Karp calls for a state that looks more like a startup – lean, technology-driven, and led authoritatively by a founder-like figure who is not afraid to “move fast and break stuff” (the Silicon Valley motto), especially when it comes to dominating enemies and ensuring the safety of a nation’s citizens.
Palantir, of course, answers this call. It combines machine learning with military spending, data-driven “intelligence” with naked violence. This is most clear in its longstanding collaboration with ICE, which is now carrying out notorious immigration raids at the behest of the Trump administration. “On the factory floor, in the operating room, on the battlefield,” states a recent Palantir recruitment ad placed across US college campuses, “we build to dominate.”
Palantir’s blueprint has been emulated by a growing array of others. Anduril, Skydio and Shield AI are all founded on developing information technologies for military and intelligence use. Last week, Rune Technologies closed a $24 million Series A round of funding to move warfare logistics away from the “Excel era” and towards AI-augmented tools.
Answering Karp’s call, these startups are unapologetic in leveraging engineering expertise for more substantial, authoritarian and historically controversial areas.
Playing the scapegoat
One of the clearest outlines of Thiel’s political philosophy is laid out in the Straussian Moment, a 30-page essay he published in 2007.
For Thiel, the spectacular violence of the September 11 terrorist attacks was a wake-up call, rousing the citizenry from that “very long and profitable period of intellectual slumber and amnesia that is so misleadingly called the Enlightenment”.
In Thiel’s view, the Enlightenment project – to advance knowledge, cultivate tolerance, and elevate humanity as a whole – rested on a naive understanding of human nature. Like Curtis Yarvin and other influential Silicon Valley political thinkers, he asserts that humanity is brutal and a shift from Enlightenment optimism to Dark Enlightenment pessimism is required.
It is unsurprising, then, that Thiel looks to René Girard (once called “the new Darwin of the human sciences”) for inspiration; he even organised a symposium at Stanford with Girard in attendance. Girard begins from a bleak view of human nature, a Hobbesian world where life is nasty, brutish and short. For Girard, mimesis or imitation is at the heart of the human. This mirroring quality means violence is always threatening to escalate, to constantly ramp up with no inherent limit.
To corral this violence, ancient cultures created the scapegoat, a sacrificial system where all-against-all was replaced by all-against-one. Yet the scapegoat is no longer viable – the revelation of Christ is that the scapegoat is an innocent victim.
Thiel takes Girard’s insights and twists them to his own ends. First, Thiel asserts that even if violence begets more violence, nonviolence is not an option. Enemies must not be allowed to prevail. In the face of uncompromising adversaries, such as the 9/11 attackers, who threaten to dismantle some idealised way of life, preemptively responding to violence is “urgently demanded”.
Second, Thiel takes the concept of the scapegoat and flips it. In this judo-like manoeuvre, the real victims are not the marginalised or the minority, but the hegemonic class (whites, males, liberals, conservatives), who are being pressured by cancel culture, political correctness, diversity initiatives and so on.
Shortly after graduating, Thiel coauthored a book, The Diversity Myth, about alleged political intolerance at Stanford. In it, he rails against a rampant multiculturalism that he claims stifles freedom of speech and derails education and entrepreneurialism. Here, scapegoating is weaponised. It’s mobilised toward a conservative advance in the ongoing cultural wars, which are always also political wars.
Contradiction or evolution?
Thiel is a walking paradox. He bemoans cancel culture and political correctness, while waging a highly expensive and clearly personal war to bankrupt a media outlet that offended him. (After Gawker printed the “open secret” of Thiel’s gay status in 2007, Thiel funded lawsuits against them until they were shut down.)
He calls himself a libertarian, but has founded a company that derives millions in contracts from the bloated budgets of the many military agencies (the National Security Agency, the FBI, the US Army) that now comprise the sprawling state.
He celebrates capitalism and the free hand of the market, but always stresses that the path to business success rests on establishing monopolies with no real competition. He is a German-born immigrant who actively supports technologies (Palantir) and candidates (Trump) that establish xenophobic environments and seek to deport those deemed “other”. And, most personally, he is both a conservative Republican and an openly gay man.
At a purely logical level, these elements are incompatible. There is a perceived gap between Thiel’s words and actions, a gulf between his ideologies and his activities. For staunch libertarians at Thiel’s companies, his manoeuvrings at the state level make no sense. For queer scholars, Thiel’s exclusionary rather than liberatory politics mean he is a man who has sex with other men, rather than being gay.
For these critics, both things cannot be true; therefore, some labels, identities and activities are fake, marginal or impossible. Yet one of Thiel’s many lessons is that contradiction is a strength rather than a weakness.
Thiel’s philosophy, which journalists have called techno-fascism, recalls philosopher Umberto Eco, who described fascism as a “beehive of contradictions” and “a collage of different philosophical and political ideas”. The radical right, in particular, has no problem mashing together many views that at face value should not fit: scavenger ideologies that are opportunistic in grabbing elements that work for them.
Instead of contradictions, these hybrid forms need to be understood as evolutions. They are tensions, held within the body and the mind of the subject, that push monolithic frameworks like conservatism beyond their existing limits. Thiel’s power – and his political blueprint for others – is insisting you can be a philosophical entrepreneur, an illiberal patriot, and a queer conservative.
Luke Munn 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 Samara McPhedran, Principal Research Fellow, Violence Research and Prevention Program, Griffith University
Almost every day, it seems we read or hear reports another family is grieving the murder of a loved one in a street brawl, another business owner is hospitalised after trying to fend off armed robbers, or shoppers simply going about their business are confronted by knife-wielding thugs.
The way media and politicians talk, it seems as if we are in the middle of an unprecedented violent crime crisis.
But are we?
The short answer is: no.
Comparing today with the past
Although the numbers fluctuate from year to year, Australia is less violent today than in previous years.
It is difficult to make direct comparisons over decades, because the way crimes are defined and recorded changes (especially for assault).
Weapons and violence are rarely out of the media cycle in Australia, leading many to fear this country is becoming less safe for everyday people. Is that really the case, though? This is the first story in a four-part series.
For crimes like domestic violence, the statistics are extremely hard to compare over time but even so, prevalence appears to have declined (although only about half of all women who experience physical and/or sexual violence from their partners seek advice or support).
However, if we consider homicide and robbery (which have been categorised much the same way over time), the numbers have been falling for decades.
Interestingly, this seems to have nothing to do with the weapons themselves. For instance, armed robbery and unarmed robbery both rise and fall in about the same way, at about the same time. Homicide follows a similar pattern.
Relative to ten years ago, Australians now are less likely to say they have experienced physical or threatened face-to-face assault in the previous 12 months.
Places with greater socioeconomic disadvantage typically experience more violence. In Queensland, for instance, Mt Isa has higher violent crime rates than affluent areas of Brisbane.
Despite differences between places, there is generally less violence than there used to be.
Why is violence declining?
Nobody knows quite why violence is decreasing. This is not just happening in Australia butacross many developednations.
Suggestions include better social welfare, strong economies, improved education, low unemployment, women’s rights and stable governance. Also, new avenues have opened up that carry less risk than violent crime – such as cyberfraud instead of robbing a bank.
Evidence shows these types of reactions achieve little, but in an environment of endless “crisis” it is almost impossible to make good decisions. This is made even harder in circumstances where victims and activists push politicians to implement “feel-good” policies, regardless of how ultimately fruitless those will be.
Who are the people being violent?
One thing remains the same: violent crime is primarily committed by younger men (who are also likely to be victims).
Ethnicity/migration history data is not always recorded in crime statistics, but the information we do have suggests a more complex picture.
Factors such as exposure to warfare and civil strife can certainly play a role in people’s use of violence.
However, unemployment, poverty, poor education and involvement with drugs and/or gangs tend to play a much larger part.
Reactions versus reality
If society is less violent, why are public reactions to violence seemingly becoming more intense?
Incidents that would have received little attention a decade ago now dominate public debate and single incidents – no matter how rare or isolated – are enough to provoke sweeping legislative and policy changes.
This is also about psychology: the better things get, the more sensitive people tend to be to whatever ills remain and resilience can crumble when something bad does happen.
Pandering to this by rushing to make people feel safer – while politically irresistible – has unintended consequences. When another incident occurs, as it always does, people feel even more vulnerable because they were led to believe the problem had been “fixed”.
This creates a never-ending cycle of superficial responses while underlying issues are ignored.
We cannot legislate or politicise our way out of violence. The best responses are ones that identify and address actual root causes and look at the circumstances that surround violence – rather than fixating on the violence itself.
This means moving away from emotional reactions and taking a clear look at why violence occurs in the first place.
Until this happens, any further reductions in violence are more likely to be good luck than good management.
Samara McPhedran has received funding from various Australian and international government grant programs, including the Australian Research Council and Criminology Research Council, for a number of projects relating to violence. She has been appointed to various advisory panels and committees, including as a member of the Queensland Ministerial Advisory Panel on Weapons. She does not receive any financial remuneration or other reward for these activities. She is the Executive Director (Analysis, Policy and Strategy) of the Violence Prevention Institute Australia. She is not, and has never been, a member of any political party. The views expressed are those of the author alone.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Lisa Martin, Adjunct Senior Research Fellow, School of Biomedical Sciences, Pathology and Laboratory Science, The University of Western Australia
It’s a cold, crisp evening and the air carries a chill that bites. As temperatures drop and houses get colder, we turn to trusted sources of warmth such as wood fires, heaters, hot water bottles and warm drinks.
But these winter comforts come with the risk of burns.
Staying warm in winter is important, but so is staying safe. So, a little caution can go a long way to prevent serious injury.
Let’s start with children
Young children are naturally curious, and in winter, their explorations often take them dangerously close to sources of heat. One common scenario involves toddlers reaching out to touch a glowing wood-fired heater.
These are attractive to curious children because they are bright, warm and often within reach. Tragically, these burns can cause significant injuries to small hands and fingers, often requiring long recovery times and specialist care.
Scalds from hot drinks are also very common in young children. These accidents tend to happen during everyday moments, such as when a parent is trying to juggle a hot drink with a sick, unsettled child on their lap.
Seasonal colds and viruses mean children often need more comfort and physical contact, increasing the likelihood of accidents. A hot drink, even one that has cooled slightly, can cause deep burns to a child’s skin if spilled.
In many parts of Australia at this time of year, bonfires, fire pits and campfires become common. Extinguishing a fire with sand may seem safe, but embers underneath can retain enough heat to burn skin hours later.
Children running in light shoes can be unaware of where a fire has been and step directly onto it, resulting in severe burns to their feet.
Hot water bottles can cause scald burns from spills when being filled, can leak or burst if cuddled or rolled on, or cause contact burns if placed directly on the skin. Always check the bottle for wear, use hot tap water instead of boiling water, and keep a layer between the bottle and the skin.
Wheat bags can also cause burns over winter, particularly when overheated or applied directly to skin without a cover. Rarely, wheat bags have caught fire, especially when overheated or re-heated repeatedly without allowing them to fully cool between use.
Older people can also be at risk
Elderly people face a unique set of risks in winter. For some, underlying health issues, such as diabetes or poor circulation, can reduce sensitivity to heat, making them unaware they have been burnt.
A classic example is burns to the lower legs caused by sitting too close to a bar heater for extended periods. These burns may go unnoticed until they become painful or infected.
In some cases, financial strain plays a role. Many older adults live on fixed incomes and may hesitate to heat their entire home to save on energy bills. Instead, they may rely on small portable heaters in closed rooms or heated blankets and hot water bottles. These workarounds are cost-effective, but can increase the risk of burns.
How can I stay safe?
Burns are preventable injuries. Here’s how to reduce the risk:
use a barrier around heaters to protect exploring hands
keep hot drinks out of reach when holding a child, and consider using mugs with lids for added safety
supervise young children closely around campfires, bonfires and fire pits, and extinguish with water not sand
ensure hot water bottles are in good condition. Never fill a hot water bottle with boiling water, use the hot tap, and do not use if there are signs of wear or damage. Don’t overheat wheat bags
regularly check your heater is safe and is working as it should. Sit at least a metre away.
When should I seek medical care?
If a burn happens, run the burn under cool running water for at least 20 minutes, while keeping the person warm. Don’t apply ice, creams or ointments, as they can cause more damage by trapping in the heat. Remove tight clothing or jewellery. Cover the burn with a loose, clean cloth or non-stick dressing.
looks leathery, or there are patches of brown, black or white
if the person has trouble breathing.
Lisa Martin receives funding from Perth Children’s Hospital Foundation, Perron Foundation, The Kids Research Institute, and is employed by The Fiona Wood Foundation.
Transparency is vital to our democratic system of government.
It promotes good government, spurring those in power into better practice. Even when what is revealed is pretty revolting, transparency means those transgressions are known, and accountability for them can follow.
Transparency is particularly important for people who otherwise do not have access to government, who are not “in the room” or “at the table”, whether that be directly or through lobbyists or other connections.
But recent data reveal government transparency in Australia is on the decline. Given the connection between transparency and a well-functioning democracy, this is deeply concerning.
The Albanese government’s compliance rate with Senate orders for documents is the lowest of any government since 2016, and the second-worst of any government since 1993. Disclosures under freedom of information laws have dropped dramatically over the past decade.
The problem isn’t a lack of solutions, but that governments appear perpetually unwilling to open up.
How should transparency work?
In Australia, there is a complex system of institutions and laws that provide government accountability and transparency.
Outside of the blunt instrument of electoral accountability through the ballot box, the parliament, and in particular the non-government-dominated Senate, plays a key role in providing accountability and transparency.
The transparency work of the Senate is supplemented by a number of regimes, chief among them freedom of information. Under freedom of information, members of the public can request specific information from government departments and agencies, and this is supported by a “freedom of information champion”, the Office of the Australian Information Commissioner.
To work properly, these schemes and regimes need the ongoing support, cooperation and buy-in (literally in the form of funding) from government. This has, at times, been less than forthcoming, which can hobble their operation in different ways.
There are also several reasons why a government might refuse to publicly disclose what it is doing. Former High Court Chief Justice Harry Gibbs said “government at a high level cannot function without some degree of secrecy”.
But limits and exceptions to transparency regimes are controversial. Does there need to be an exception at all? Does a particular document fall within the exception?
The government holds the upper hand in asserting whether a document falls within an exception, because they are the ones who know what the documents are. This gives rise to cynicism that these exceptions can be and are being abused.
Documents remaining buried
This cynicism may be warranted, as two recent reports by the Centre for Public Integrity show successive governments lack true commitment to transparency.
The first report was about Senate orders for the production of documents and how often the government complies with them.
One of the Senate’s most powerful tools in holding the executive to account is its ability to order the production of government documents.
But governments have a long history of avoiding compliance with Senate orders. They either outright refuse to respond, or offer broad claims of “public interest immunity” over sensitive documents, such as those relating to national security, Cabinet, federal relations or law enforcement.
While the Senate can sanction ministers who refuse to comply with its orders, such as through suspending them from the chamber, it has historically done little in response to government insouciance.
This means we don’t know whether the public interest immunity claims being made over the documents are valid, and there is currently no mechanism to find out.
The recent data show the government’s compliance rates with Senate orders to produce documents have fallen from 92% in 1993–96, to approximately 33% for the current parliament.
This is a low that only the Abbott/Turnbull government in the 44th parliament has the ignominious record of beating in the past 30-odd years.
It is coupled with the government increasingly claiming public interest immunity. Public interest immunity rejections as a proportion of non-compliance sat at 61% over the 46th Parliament, this rose to almost 68% over the Albanese government’s first term.
These averaged roughly one claim per week under Albanese, compared with about one claim every three weeks under by the Morrison government in the 46th parliament.
What about freedom of information?
The second report is on the operation of the Commonwealth’s freedom of information (FOI) regime.
The Albanese government’s performance on delivering transparency this way is a mixed bag.
First, the good news: the Office of the Australian Information Commissioner is better resourced, first-instance processing times have improved, and more of the reviews received by the OAIC are being finalised.
But the plaudits end there.
Whereas the proportion of requests granted in full stood at 59% in 2011–12, by 2023–24 it had fallen to just 25%.
Over the same period, outright refusals have ballooned from 12% to 23%.
The precipitous decline in the “refusal gap” (the difference between the proportion of requests granted in full and those refused) is alarming.
Moreover, it’s difficult to have confidence in the correctness of these refusals. In 2023–24, almost half of initial decisions were found to be flawed following internal review.
Processing timeframes are also cause for significant concern. Average processing time for Office of the Australian Information Commissioner reviews has blown out from 6 months in 2016-17, to 15.5 months in 2023-24.
Fixing the mess
Of course, numbers are not a full story. But they also cannot be denied, and these tell a damning story for government.
So how could they be addressed?
The Senate should adopt an independent legal arbiter to oversee claims for public interest immunity. This would discourage secrecy by providing an independent review mechanism for parliament to check the government’s immunity claims.
For this reform to work, the Senate must not shy away from flexing its enforcement muscles either. The government must know that lack of transparency has consequences.
In response to the freedom of information crisis, there’s a number of reforms that could improve transparency. These cover:
legislative changes such as clarifying that existing applications are not invalidated with a change in minister or portfolio title
greater resourcing to support information officer training and ongoing monitoring
and increasing parliamentary oversight of the regime.
Transparency is not an elite concern, but one of those who are otherwise not in the room. It is the peoples’ concern. Governments, however, have incentives to keep the status quo.
So even though Labor spoke a big transparency game in opposition, they have done little in government. We need to demand that they do.
The author would like to thank Catherine Williams, Executive Director of the Centre for Public Integrity, for her contributions to this article.
Gabrielle Appleby is a Director of the Centre for Public Integrity.
The announcement this week by UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer on the recognition of a Palestininian state has been welcomed by many who want to see a ceasefire in Gaza and lasting peace in the region.
In contrast to other recent statements on the status of Palestine, however, the UK has said it will recognise Palestine as a state in September
unless the Israeli government takes substantive steps to end the appalling situation in Gaza and commits to a long term sustainable peace, including through allowing the UN to restart without delay the supply of humanitarian support to the people of Gaza to end starvation, agreeing to a ceasefire, and making clear there will be no annexations in the West Bank.
Until this week, the UK’s position had been that recognition would only follow a negotiated two-state solution in Israel-Palestine. Other countries have now begun to shift from that position, too.
The latest UK statement was preceded by announcements from France on July 25 and Canada on July 31 that they too would recognise Palestine as a state in September.
But the UK position is different in one important way: it is conditional on Israel failing to comply with its international humanitarian obligations in Gaza and the West Bank.
In other words, recognition of Palestine as a state by the UK is being used as a stick to persuade Israel to agree to a ceasefire. Should Israel agree to those conditions, the UK will presumably not recognise Palestine as a state in September, but will revert to its original position on a two-state solution.
Conditional recognition subject to action by Israel – a third state – represents an unwelcome and arguably dangerous departure from international practice.
While recognition (or otherwise) of states is inherently political – as demonstrated by the unique status of Taiwan, for example – it is not and should not be made conditional on the action or inaction of third states.
How states are recognised
According to the Convention on the Rights and Duties of States, a state must have a permanent population, territory, an independent government, and the capacity to enter into relations with other states, as well as self-determination.
Palestine has arguably met all these criteria, with the possible exception of an independent government, given the level of Israeli intervention in the West Bank and the current situation in Gaza.
Although recognition by other states is arguably not a formal criterion of statehood, it is very difficult to function as a state without reasonably widespread recognition by other states.
Some 147 countries – two-thirds of UN members – now recognise the State of Palestine, including Spain, Ireland and Norway, which made announcements in 2024.
Those choosing not to formally recognise a Palestinian state are now in a small minority, including Australia and New Zealand. This is inevitably leading to calls in those countries to change position.
Australia is considering such a shift, subject to conditions similar to those set out by Canada – including the release of Israeli hostages, the demilitarisation of Hamas, and reform of the Palestinian Authority.
New Zealand is currently maintaining its longstanding position of recognising Palestine within the context of a two-state solution. On July 30, Foreign Minister Winston Peters and 13 of his counterparts issued a joint statement – the “New York Call” – demanding an immediate ceasefire in Gaza and reiterating “unwavering commitment to the vision of the two-State solution”.
The statement also asserted that “positive consideration” to recognise the state of Palestine is “an essential step towards the two-state solution”.
Better options are available
The UK’s position, however, introduces another dynamic. By using recognition of Palestine as a tool to punish Israel for its actual and alleged breaches of international law in Gaza, it is implicitly failing to respect Palestine’s right to self-determination.
If Palestine deserves statehood, it is on its own terms, not as a condition of Israel’s policies and actions.
But it is also setting a dangerous precedent. Countries could choose to recognise (or not recognise) states to pressure or punish them (or indeed other states) for breaches of international law. Such breaches may or may not be connected to the state actually seeking recognition.
This is important, because the post-colonial settlement of geographical boundaries remains deeply insecure in many regions. As well, low-lying island nations at risk of losing territory from sea-level rise may also find their status challenged, as territory has traditionally been a requirement of statehood.
The UK’s apparent conditional recognition of Palestine is only likely to increase this international instability around statehood.
While the UK’s announcement may be “clever politics” from a domestic perspective, and avoids outright US opposition internationally, it has conflated two separate issues.
The better option would be for the UK to recognise Palestine as a state, joining a growing number of countries that plan to do so in advance of the UN General Assembly meeting in September. It could make this subject to conditions, including the release of hostages and exclusion of Hamas from Palestinian governance.
And it should continue to press Israel to agree to a ceasefire in addition to the other demands set out in its announcement, and hold Israel accountable for its gross breaches of international law in Gaza. It can back up those demands with appropriate diplomatic and trade sanctions.
New Zealand, too, has a range of options available, and can help increase the pressure on Israel by using them.
Karen Scott 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.
ER Report: Here is a summary of significant articles published on EveningReport.nz on August 1, 2025.
Why UK recognition of a Palestinian state should not be conditional on Israel’s actions Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Karen Scott, Professor in Law, University of Canterbury Getty Images The announcement this week by UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer on the recognition of a Palestininian state has been welcomed by many who want to see a ceasefire in Gaza and lasting peace in the region. In
Governments are becoming increasingly secretive. Here’s how they can be made to be more transparent Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Gabrielle Appleby, Professor of Law, UNSW Law School, UNSW Sydney Transparency is vital to our democratic system of government. It promotes good government, spurring those in power into better practice. Even when what is revealed is pretty revolting, transparency means those transgressions are known, and accountability for
Wood fires, warm drinks, hot water bottles: 5 expert tips on how to avoid burns this winter Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Lisa Martin, Adjunct Senior Research Fellow, School of Biomedical Sciences, Pathology and Laboratory Science, The University of Western Australia Alex P/Pexels It’s a cold, crisp evening and the air carries a chill that bites. As temperatures drop and houses get colder, we turn to trusted sources of
Is Australia becoming a more violent country? Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Samara McPhedran, Principal Research Fellow, Violence Research and Prevention Program, Griffith University Almost every day, it seems we read or hear reports another family is grieving the murder of a loved one in a street brawl, another business owner is hospitalised after trying to fend off armed
The royal commission recommended abolishing time limits on abuse cases – a year on, nothing has changed Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Zoë Prebble, Lecturer in Criminal Law, Te Herenga Waka — Victoria University of Wellington Getty Images Among the 138 recommendations of the Abuse in Care Royal Commission of Inquiry’s final report to parliament was a clear call: remove the legal time limits that prevent survivors of historic
Industrial-scale deepfake abuse caused a crisis in South Korean schools. Here’s how Australia can avoid the same fate Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Joel Scanlan, Senior Lecturer in Health Information Management, University of Tasmania South Korea’s deepfake crisis triggered a wave of protests in 2024. Anthony WALLACE / AFP Australian schools are seeing a growing number of incidents in which students have created deepfake sexualised imagery of their classmates. The
Colombia is producing more cocaine than ever – and more is reaching Australian shores Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Cesar Alvarez, Lecturer in Terrorism and Security Studies, Charles Sturt University Members of the Colombian anti-narcotics police test cocaine after a drug bust. RAUL ARBOLEDA/AFP via Getty Images Imagine an area larger than the Australian Capital Territory, nearly twice the size of London and four times that
How can I tell if I am lonely? What are some of the signs? Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Marlee Bower, Senior Research Fellow, Matilda Centre for Research in Mental Health and Substance Use, University of Sydney gremlin/Getty Images Without even realising it, your world sometimes gradually gets smaller: less walking, fewer days in the office, cancelling on friends. Watching plans disintegrate on the chat as
Rockabye baby: the ‘love songs’ of lonely leopard seals resemble human nursery rhymes Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Lucinda Chambers, PhD Candidate in Marine Bioacoustics, UNSW Sydney CassandraSm/Shutterstock Late in the evening, the Antarctic sky flushes pink. The male leopard seal wakes and slips from the ice into the water. There, he’ll spend the night singing underwater amongst the floating ice floes. For the next
Shark tales, a sinking city and a breathless cop thriller: what to watch in August Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Alexa Scarlata, Lecturer, Digital Communication, RMIT University As the cool nights continue, it’s the perfect time to cozy up with a new batch of captivating films and series. This month’s streaming highlights bring a little bit of everything, from gripping true crime, to thought-provoking political drama, and
A Hawaiian epic made in NZ: why Jason Momoa’s Chief of War wasn’t filmed in its star’s homeland Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Duncan Caillard, Postdoctoral Research Fellow, School of Communication Studies, Auckland University of Technology Jason Momoa’s historical epic Chief of War, launching August 1 on Apple TV+, is a triumph of Hawaiians telling their own stories – despite the fact their film and TV production industry now struggles
As protesters condemn Western media ‘complicity’, Gaza journalists struggle for survival Asia Pacific Report Protesters demonstrated outside several major US media outlets in Washington this week condemning their coverage of the genocide in Gaza, claiming they were to blame over misinformation and the worsening catastrophe. Banging pots and pans to spotlight the starvation crisis, they accused the media of “complicity in genocide”. Banners and placards proclaimed
The company tax regime is a roadblock to business investment. Here’s what needs to change Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Alex Robson, Deputy Chair, Productivity Commission, and Adjunct Professor, Queensland University of Technology Erman Gunes/Shutterstock Productivity growth is a key driver of improvements in living standards. But in Australia over the last decade, output per hour worked grew by less than a quarter of its 60-year average.
Grattan on Friday: Aggrieved Liberals stamp their feet, testing Sussan Ley’s authority Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Michelle Grattan, Professorial Fellow, University of Canberra As any leader of a political party knows, when you demote people they can become difficult, or worse. Among Opposition Leader Sussan Ley’s multiple problems are two very unhappy former frontbenchers. Sarah Henderson, who was opposition education spokeswoman last term,
Espionage cost Australia $12.5 billion in 2023-24, ASIO boss Mike Burgess says Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Michelle Grattan, Professorial Fellow, University of Canberra Espionage cost Australia $12.5 billion in 2023-24, according to a study by ASIO and the Australian Institute of Criminology. The figure includes the direct costs of known espionage incidents, including state-sponsored theft of intellectual property, as well as the indirect
Labor well-placed to win three Bass seats in Tasmanian election, giving left a total of 20 of 35 MPs 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 Labor is well-placed to win three seats in the electorate of Bass at the Tasmanian election, although its party totals imply it deserves only two. This would
The Muslim world has been strong on rhetoric, short on action over Gaza and Afghanistan Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Amin Saikal, Emeritus Professor of Middle Eastern and Central Asian Studies, Australian National University; and Vice Chancellor’s Strategic Fellow, Australian National University When it comes to dealing with two of the biggest current crises in the Muslim world – the devastation of Gaza and the Taliban’s draconian
Kids need to floss too, even their baby teeth. But how do you actually get them to do it? Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Dileep Sharma, Professor and Head of Discipline – Oral Health, University of Newcastle Jonathan Borba/Pexels A survey from the Australian Dental Association out this week shows about three in four children never floss their teeth, or have adults do it for them. Many of the survey respondents
Grief is the Thing with Feathers comes to the stage with a glorious intensity of purpose Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Huw Griffiths, Associate Professor of English Literature, University of Sydney Brett Boardman/Belvoir The idea of the titular Crow in Ted Hughes’ poems is wild, untameable and irreducible to words. In an early poem in the sequence, words come at Crow from all angles but he just ignores
Politics with Michelle Grattan: independent MP Allegra Spender on making tax fairer for younger Australians Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Michelle Grattan, Professorial Fellow, University of Canberra With parliament now finished its first fortnight’s session, attention will soon be on the government’s August 19-21 economic reform roundtable, bringing together business, unions, experts and community representatives to pursue consensus on ways to lift Australia’s flagging productivity. Independent member
The Roman baths at Sabratha, Libya, were damaged in the earthquake and tsunami of 365 ADReza / Getty Images
The Greek poet Crinagoras of Mytilene (1st century BC–1st century AD) once addressed a little poem to an earthquake. He asked the quake not to destroy his house:
Earthquake, most dread of all shocks … spare my new-built house, for I do not know of any terror equal to the quivering of the earth.
Like us, ancient people had many things to say about natural disasters. So, what information did they leave behind for us, and what can we learn from them?
The story of Nicomedia
One of the most vivid ancient accounts of an earthquake is found in the writings of the Roman historian Ammianus Marcellinus (c. 330–395 AD).
On August 24 358 AD, there was a huge earthquake at Nicomedia, a city in Asia Minor.
A terrific earthquake completely overturned the city and its suburbs … since most of the houses were carried down the slopes of the hill, they fell one upon another, while everything resounded with the vast roar of their destruction.
The human effect was devastating.
The palace of the emperor Diocletian at Nicomedia was damaged in the quake of 358 AD. G. Berggren / Getty Images
Most people were “killed at one blow”, says Ammianus. Others, he tells us, were “imprisoned unhurt within slanting house roofs, to be consumed by the agony of starvation”.
Hidden in the rubble “with fractured skulls or amputated arms or legs”, injured survivors “hovered between life and death”, but most could not be recovered, “despite their pleas and protestations” resounding from beneath the rubble, according to Ammianus.
Famous natural disasters in the ancient world
A number of natural disasters involving earthquakes and tsunamis were especially famous in ancient Greek and Roman times.
In 464 BC, in Sparta, there was a huge earthquake. People at the time said it was greater than any earthquake that had ever occurred beforehand.
According to the Greek writer Plutarch (c. 46–119 AD), the earthquake “tore the land of the Lacedaemonians into many chasms”, collapsed the peaks of the surrounding mountains, and “demolished the entire city with the exception of five houses”.
In 373–372 BC, the Greek coastal cities of Helice and Buris were destroyed by tsunamis. They were permanently submerged beneath the waves.
An anonymous Greek poet evocatively wrote that the walls of these cities, which had once been thriving with many people, were now silent under the waves, “clad with thick sea-moss”.
But arguably the most famous ancient tsunami occurred on July 21 365 AD on the northern coast of Africa, at that time controlled by the Romans.
Again according to Ammianus, early in the morning there was a huge earthquake. Then, not long after, the water retreated from the shore:
the sea with its rolling waves was driven back and withdrew from the land, so that in the abyss of the deep thus revealed people saw many kinds of sea-creatures stuck fast in the slime … and vast mountains and deep valleys, which nature had hidden in the unplumbed depths.
Then, suddenly, the sea returned with a vengeance. As Ammianus tells us, it smashed over the land destroying everything in its path:
The great mass of waters killed many thousands of people by drowning … the lifeless bodies of shipwrecked persons lay floating on their backs or on their faces … great ships, driven by the mad blasts, landed on the tops of buildings, and some were driven almost two miles inland.
Earthquakes were famous for their sound. The Roman scholar Pliny the Elder (23–79 AD) explained that earthquakes have a “terrible sound” – like “the bellowing of cattle or the shouts of human beings or the clash of weapons struck together”.
Ancient ideas about what causes earthquakes and tsunamis
Like today, ancient people wanted to know what caused these phenomena. There were various different theories.
Some people thought Poseidon, god of the sea, earthquakes and horses, was responsible.
As the Greek writer Plutarch (c. 46–119 AD) comments, “men sacrifice to Poseidon when they wish to put a stop to earthquakes”.
An ancient statue of Poseidon, god of the sea and earthquakes, from the island of Milos. Sepia Times / Getty Images
However, other people looked beyond divine explanations.
One interesting theory held by the philosopher Anaximenes (6th century BC) was that the earth itself was the cause of earthquakes.
According to Anaximenes, huge parts of the earth beneath the ground can move, collapse, detach or tear away, thus causing shaking.
“Huge waves”, said Anaximenes, are “produced by the weight [of falling earth] crashing down into the [waters] from above”.
Ancient people knew nothing of tectonic plates and continental drift. These were discovered much later, mainly through the pioneering work of Alfred Wegener (1880–1930).
Preparing for natural disasters
Ancient Greeks and Romans had little way of predicting or preparing for earthquakes and tsunamis.
Pherecydes of Samos (6th century BC) was said to have predicted an earthquake “from the appearance of some water drawn from a well”, according to the Roman statesman Cicero (106–43 BC).
For the most part, though, ancient people had to live at the mercy of these occurrences.
As the anonymous author of a treatise titled On the Cosmos once wrote, natural disasters are part of life on earth:
Violent earthquakes before now have torn up many parts of the earth; monstrous storms of rain have burst out and overwhelmed it; incursions and withdrawals of the waves have often made seas of dry land and dry land of seas…
While our understanding of these events (and our ability to prepare for them, and recover afterward) has improved immeasurably since ancient times, earthquakes and tsunamis are things we will always have to deal with.
Konstantine Panegyres 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 Roman baths at Sabratha, Libya, were damaged in the earthquake and tsunami of 365 ADReza / Getty Images
The Greek poet Crinagoras of Mytilene (1st century BC–1st century AD) once addressed a little poem to an earthquake. He asked the quake not to destroy his house:
Earthquake, most dread of all shocks … spare my new-built house, for I do not know of any terror equal to the quivering of the earth.
Like us, ancient people had many things to say about natural disasters. So, what information did they leave behind for us, and what can we learn from them?
The story of Nicomedia
One of the most vivid ancient accounts of an earthquake is found in the writings of the Roman historian Ammianus Marcellinus (c. 330–395 AD).
On August 24 358 AD, there was a huge earthquake at Nicomedia, a city in Asia Minor.
A terrific earthquake completely overturned the city and its suburbs … since most of the houses were carried down the slopes of the hill, they fell one upon another, while everything resounded with the vast roar of their destruction.
The human effect was devastating.
The palace of the emperor Diocletian at Nicomedia was damaged in the quake of 358 AD. G. Berggren / Getty Images
Most people were “killed at one blow”, says Ammianus. Others, he tells us, were “imprisoned unhurt within slanting house roofs, to be consumed by the agony of starvation”.
Hidden in the rubble “with fractured skulls or amputated arms or legs”, injured survivors “hovered between life and death”, but most could not be recovered, “despite their pleas and protestations” resounding from beneath the rubble, according to Ammianus.
Famous natural disasters in the ancient world
A number of natural disasters involving earthquakes and tsunamis were especially famous in ancient Greek and Roman times.
In 464 BC, in Sparta, there was a huge earthquake. People at the time said it was greater than any earthquake that had ever occurred beforehand.
According to the Greek writer Plutarch (c. 46–119 AD), the earthquake “tore the land of the Lacedaemonians into many chasms”, collapsed the peaks of the surrounding mountains, and “demolished the entire city with the exception of five houses”.
In 373–372 BC, the Greek coastal cities of Helice and Buris were destroyed by tsunamis. They were permanently submerged beneath the waves.
An anonymous Greek poet evocatively wrote that the walls of these cities, which had once been thriving with many people, were now silent under the waves, “clad with thick sea-moss”.
But arguably the most famous ancient tsunami occurred on July 21 365 AD on the northern coast of Africa, at that time controlled by the Romans.
Again according to Ammianus, early in the morning there was a huge earthquake. Then, not long after, the water retreated from the shore:
the sea with its rolling waves was driven back and withdrew from the land, so that in the abyss of the deep thus revealed people saw many kinds of sea-creatures stuck fast in the slime … and vast mountains and deep valleys, which nature had hidden in the unplumbed depths.
Then, suddenly, the sea returned with a vengeance. As Ammianus tells us, it smashed over the land destroying everything in its path:
The great mass of waters killed many thousands of people by drowning … the lifeless bodies of shipwrecked persons lay floating on their backs or on their faces … great ships, driven by the mad blasts, landed on the tops of buildings, and some were driven almost two miles inland.
Earthquakes were famous for their sound. The Roman scholar Pliny the Elder (23–79 AD) explained that earthquakes have a “terrible sound” – like “the bellowing of cattle or the shouts of human beings or the clash of weapons struck together”.
Ancient ideas about what causes earthquakes and tsunamis
Like today, ancient people wanted to know what caused these phenomena. There were various different theories.
Some people thought Poseidon, god of the sea, earthquakes and horses, was responsible.
As the Greek writer Plutarch (c. 46–119 AD) comments, “men sacrifice to Poseidon when they wish to put a stop to earthquakes”.
An ancient statue of Poseidon, god of the sea and earthquakes, from the island of Milos. Sepia Times / Getty Images
However, other people looked beyond divine explanations.
One interesting theory held by the philosopher Anaximenes (6th century BC) was that the earth itself was the cause of earthquakes.
According to Anaximenes, huge parts of the earth beneath the ground can move, collapse, detach or tear away, thus causing shaking.
“Huge waves”, said Anaximenes, are “produced by the weight [of falling earth] crashing down into the [waters] from above”.
Ancient people knew nothing of tectonic plates and continental drift. These were discovered much later, mainly through the pioneering work of Alfred Wegener (1880–1930).
Preparing for natural disasters
Ancient Greeks and Romans had little way of predicting or preparing for earthquakes and tsunamis.
Pherecydes of Samos (6th century BC) was said to have predicted an earthquake “from the appearance of some water drawn from a well”, according to the Roman statesman Cicero (106–43 BC).
For the most part, though, ancient people had to live at the mercy of these occurrences.
As the anonymous author of a treatise titled On the Cosmos once wrote, natural disasters are part of life on earth:
Violent earthquakes before now have torn up many parts of the earth; monstrous storms of rain have burst out and overwhelmed it; incursions and withdrawals of the waves have often made seas of dry land and dry land of seas…
While our understanding of these events (and our ability to prepare for them, and recover afterward) has improved immeasurably since ancient times, earthquakes and tsunamis are things we will always have to deal with.
Konstantine Panegyres 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 announcement this week by UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer on the recognition of a Palestininian state has been welcomed by many who want to see a ceasefire in Gaza and lasting peace in the region.
In contrast to other recent statements on the status of Palestine, however, the UK has said it will recognise Palestine as a state in September
unless the Israeli government takes substantive steps to end the appalling situation in Gaza and commits to a long term sustainable peace, including through allowing the UN to restart without delay the supply of humanitarian support to the people of Gaza to end starvation, agreeing to a ceasefire, and making clear there will be no annexations in the West Bank.
Until this week, the UK’s position had been that recognition would only follow a negotiated two-state solution in Israel-Palestine. Other countries have now begun to shift from that position, too.
The latest UK statement was preceded by announcements from France on July 25 and Canada on July 31 that they too would recognise Palestine as a state in September.
But the UK position is different in one important way: it is conditional on Israel failing to comply with its international humanitarian obligations in Gaza and the West Bank.
In other words, recognition of Palestine as a state by the UK is being used as a stick to persuade Israel to agree to a ceasefire. Should Israel agree to those conditions, the UK will presumably not recognise Palestine as a state in September, but will revert to its original position on a two-state solution.
Conditional recognition subject to action by Israel – a third state – represents an unwelcome and arguably dangerous departure from international practice.
While recognition (or otherwise) of states is inherently political – as demonstrated by the unique status of Taiwan, for example – it is not and should not be made conditional on the action or inaction of third states.
How states are recognised
According to the Convention on the Rights and Duties of States, a state must have a permanent population, territory, an independent government, and the capacity to enter into relations with other states, as well as self-determination.
Palestine has arguably met all these criteria, with the possible exception of an independent government, given the level of Israeli intervention in the West Bank and the current situation in Gaza.
Although recognition by other states is arguably not a formal criterion of statehood, it is very difficult to function as a state without reasonably widespread recognition by other states.
Some 147 countries – two-thirds of UN members – now recognise the State of Palestine, including Spain, Ireland and Norway, which made announcements in 2024.
Those choosing not to formally recognise a Palestinian state are now in a small minority, including Australia and New Zealand. This is inevitably leading to calls in those countries to change position.
Australia is considering such a shift, subject to conditions similar to those set out by Canada – including the release of Israeli hostages, the demilitarisation of Hamas, and reform of the Palestinian Authority.
New Zealand is currently maintaining its longstanding position of recognising Palestine within the context of a two-state solution. On July 30, Foreign Minister Winston Peters and 13 of his counterparts issued a joint statement – the “New York Call” – demanding an immediate ceasefire in Gaza and reiterating “unwavering commitment to the vision of the two-State solution”.
The statement also asserted that “positive consideration” to recognise the state of Palestine is “an essential step towards the two-state solution”.
Better options are available
The UK’s position, however, introduces another dynamic. By using recognition of Palestine as a tool to punish Israel for its actual and alleged breaches of international law in Gaza, it is implicitly failing to respect Palestine’s right to self-determination.
If Palestine deserves statehood, it is on its own terms, not as a condition of Israel’s policies and actions.
But it is also setting a dangerous precedent. Countries could choose to recognise (or not recognise) states to pressure or punish them (or indeed other states) for breaches of international law. Such breaches may or may not be connected to the state actually seeking recognition.
This is important, because the post-colonial settlement of geographical boundaries remains deeply insecure in many regions. As well, low-lying island nations at risk of losing territory from sea-level rise may also find their status challenged, as territory has traditionally been a requirement of statehood.
The UK’s apparent conditional recognition of Palestine is only likely to increase this international instability around statehood.
While the UK’s announcement may be “clever politics” from a domestic perspective, and avoids outright US opposition internationally, it has conflated two separate issues.
The better option would be for the UK to recognise Palestine as a state, joining a growing number of countries that plan to do so in advance of the UN General Assembly meeting in September. It could make this subject to conditions, including the release of hostages and exclusion of Hamas from Palestinian governance.
And it should continue to press Israel to agree to a ceasefire in addition to the other demands set out in its announcement, and hold Israel accountable for its gross breaches of international law in Gaza. It can back up those demands with appropriate diplomatic and trade sanctions.
New Zealand, too, has a range of options available, and can help increase the pressure on Israel by using them.
Karen Scott does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
New Caledonia’s oldest pro-independence party, the Union Calédonienne (UC), has officially rejected a political agreement on the Pacific territory’s political future signed in Paris last month.
The text, bearing the signatures of all of New Caledonia’s political parties represented in the local Congress — a total of 18 leaders, both pro-France and pro-independence — is described as a “project” for an agreement that would shape politics.
Since it was signed in the city of Bougival, west of Paris, on July 12, after 10 days of intense negotiations, it has been dubbed a “bet on trust” and has been described by French Minister for Overseas Manuel Valls as a commitment from all signing parties to report to their respective bases and explain its contents.
The Bougival document involves a series of measures and recognition by France of New Caledonia as a “State” which could become empowered with its own international relations and foreign affairs, provided they do not contradict France’s key interests.
It also envisages dual citizenship — French and New Caledonian — provided future New Caledonian citizens are French nationals in the first place.
It also describes a future devolution of stronger powers for each of the three provinces (North, South and Loyalty Islands), especially in terms of tax collection.
Since it was published, the document, bearing a commitment to defend the text “as is”, was hailed as “innovative” and “historic”.
New Caledonia’s leaders have started to hold regular meetings — sometimes daily — and sessions with their respective supporters and militants, mostly to explain the contents of what they have signed.
The meetings were held by most pro-France parties and within the pro-independence camp, the two main moderate parties, UPM (Union Progressiste en Mélanésie) and PALIKA (Kanak Liberation Party).
Over the past two weeks, all of these parties have strived to defend the agreement, which is sometimes described as a Memorandum of Agreement or a roadmap for future changes in New Caledonia.
Most of the leaders who have inked the text have also held lengthy interviews with local media.
Parties who have unreservedly pledged their support to and signed the Bougival document are:
Pro-France side: Les Loyalistes, Rassemblement-LR, Wallisian-based Eveil Océanien and Calédonie Ensemble
Pro-independence: UNI-FLNKS (which comprises UPM and PALIKA).
But one of the main components of the pro-independence movement, the FLNKS (Kanak and Socialist National Liberation Front) — as its main pillar — the Union Calédonienne, has held a series of meetings indicating their resentment at their negotiators for having signed the contested document.
UC held its executive committee on July 21, its steering committee on July 26, and FLNKS convened its political bureau on July 23.
A ‘lure of sovereignty’ All of these meetings concluded with an increasingly clear rejection of the Bougival document.
Speaking at a news conference in Nouméa yesterday, UC leaders made it clear that they “formally reject” the agreement because they regard it as a “lure of sovereignty” and does not guarantee either real sovereignty or political balance.
FLNKS chief negotiator Emmanuel Tjibaou, who is also UC’s chair, told local reporters he understood his signature on the document meant a commitment to return to New Caledonia, explain the text and obtain the approval of the political base.
“I didn’t have a mandate to sign a political agreement, my mandate was to register the talks and bring them back to our people so that a decision can be made . . . it didn’t mean an acceptance on our part,” he said, mentioning it was a “temporary” document subject to further discussions.
Tjibaou said some amendments his delegation had put on the table in Bougival “went missing” in the final text.
Union Calédonienne chair and chief FLNKS negotiator Emmanuel Tjibaou . .. some amendments that his delegation had put on the table in Bougival “went missing” in the final text. Image: RNZ Pacific
‘Bougival, it’s over’ “As far as we’re concerned, Bougival, it’s over”, UC vice-president Mickaël Forrest said.
He said it was now time to move onto a “post-Bougival phase”.
Meanwhile, the FLNKS also consulted its own “constitutionalists” to obtain legal advice and interpretation of the document.
In a release about yesterday’s media conference, UC stated that the Bougival text could not be regarded as a balance between two “visions” for Kanaky New Caledonia, but rather a way of “maintaining New Caledonia as French”.
The text, UC said, had led the political dialogue into a “new impasse” and it left several questions unanswered.
“With the denomination of a ‘State’, a fundamental law (a de facto Constitution), the capacity to self-organise, and international recognition, this document is perceived as a project for an agreement to integrate (New Caledonia) into France under the guise of a decolonisation”.
“The FLNKS has never accepted a status of autonomy within France, but an external decolonisation by means of accession to full sovereignty [which] grants us the right to choose our inter-dependencies,” the media release stated.
The pro-independence party also criticised plans to enlarge the list of people entitled to vote at New Caledonia’s local elections — the very issue that triggered deadly and destructive riots in May 2024.
It is also critical of a proposed mechanism that would require a vote at the Congress with a minimum majority of 64 percent (two thirds) before any future powers can be requested for transfer from France to New Caledonia.
Assuming that current population trends and a fresh system of representation at the Congress will allow more representatives from the Southern province (about three quarters of New Caledonia’s population), UC said “in other words, it would be the non-independence [camp] who will have the power to authorise us — or not — to ask for our sovereignty”.
They party confirmed that it had “formally rejected the Bougival project of agreement as it stands” following a decision made by its steering committee on July 26 “since the fundamentals of our struggle and the principles of decolonisation are not there”.
Negotiators no longer mandated The decision also means that every member of its negotiating team who signed the document on July 12 is now de facto demoted and no longer mandated by the party until a new negotiating team is appointed, if required.
“Union Calédonienne remains mobilised to arrive at a political agreement that takes into account the achievement of a trajectory towards full sovereignty”.
On Tuesday, FLNKS president Christian Téin, as an invited guest of Corsica’s “Nazione” pro-independence movement, told French media he declared himself “individually against” the Bougival document, adding this was “far from being akin to full sovereignty”.
Téin said that during the days that led to the signing of the document in Bougival “the pressure” exerted on negotiators was “terrible”.
He said the result was that due to “excessive force” applied by “France’s representatives”, the final text’s content “looks like it is the French State and right-wing people who will decide the (indigenous) Kanak people’s future”.
Facing crime-related charges, Téin is awaiting his trial, but was released from jail, under the condition that he does not return to New Caledonia.
The leader of a CCAT (field action coordinating cell) created by Union Calédonienne late in 2023 to protest against a proposed French Constitutional amendment to alter voters’ rules of eligibility at local elections, was jailed for one year in mainland France. However, he was elected president of FLNKS in absentia in late August 2024.
CCAT, meanwhile, was admitted as one of the new components of FLNKS.
In a de facto split, the two main moderate pillars of FLNKS, UPM and PALIKA, at the same time, distanced themselves from the pro-independence UC-dominated platform, opening a rift within the pro-independence umbrella.
The FLNKS is scheduled to hold an extraordinary meeting on August 9 (it was initially scheduled to be held on August 2), to “highlight the prospects of the pursuit of dialogue through a repositioning of the pro-independence movement’s political orientations”.
French Minister for Overseas Manuel Valls (centre) shows signatures on the last page of New Caledonia’s new Bougival agreement earlier this month . . . “If tomorrow there was to be no agreement, it would mean the future, hope, would be put into question” Image: FB/RNZ Pacific
Valls: ‘I’m not giving up’ Reacting to the latest UC statements, Valls told French media he called on UC to have “a great sense of responsibility”.
“If tomorrow there was to be no agreement, it would mean the future, hope, would be put into question. Investment, including for the nickel mining industry, would no longer be possible.”
“I’m not giving up. Union Calédonienne has chosen to reject, as it stands, the Bougival accord project. I take note of this, but I profoundly regret this position.
“An institutional void would be a disaster for [New Caledonia]. It would be a prolonged uncertainty, the risk of further instability, the return of violence,” he said.
“But my door is not closed and I remain available for dialogue at all times. Impasse is not an option.”
Valls said the Bougival document was “‘neither someone’s victory on another one, nor an imposed text: it was built day after day with partners around the table following months of long discussions.”
In a recent letter specifically sent to Union Calédonienne, the French former Prime Minister suggested the creation of an editorial committee to start drafting future-shaping documents for New Caledonia, such as its “fundamental law”, akin to a Constitution for New Caledonia.
Valls also stressed France’s financial assistance to New Caledonia, which last year totalled around 3 billion euros because of the costs associated to the May 2024 riots.
The riots caused 14 dead, hundreds of injured and an estimated financial cost of more than 2 billion euros (NZ$5.8 billion) in damage.
This article is republished under a community partnership agreement with RNZ.
The world’s oceans are being rapidly transformed as climate change intensifies. Corals are bleaching, sea levels are rising, and seawater is becoming more acidic – making life difficult for shellfish and reef-building corals. All this and more is unfolding on our watch, with profound consequences for marine ecosystems and the people who depend on them.
In response, scientists, governments and industries are trying to intervene.
People all over the world are experimenting with new ways to capture and store more carbon dioxide, or make up for damage already done.
Ocean-based climate actions include breeding more heat-tolerant corals, restoring mangroves, and farming seaweed. Such interventions offer hope, but they’re also inherently risky. Some may be ineffective, inequitable or even harmful.
The pace of innovation is now outstripping the capacity to responsibly regulate, monitor and evaluate these interventions. This means current and future generations may not be getting value for money, or worse – the chance to avoid irreversible change may be slipping away.
In our new research, published in Science, we reviewed the latest evidence on known and perceived risks of new ocean-based climate interventions. We then gathered emerging ideas on how to reduce those risks.
We found the risks aren’t being widely considered, and the benefits are unclear. But there are emerging assessment tools and planning frameworks we can build on, to plan ocean-based climate actions that meet humanity’s climate goals.
The promise and peril of marine climate interventions
Marine climate interventions vary in scope and ambition. Examples can be found all over the world. These include:
Each has its own set of benefits, costs and risks. For example, making the ocean more alkaline may help to squeeze in more carbon from the atmosphere, but it’s difficult to verify how much carbon has been removed. This makes it hard to justify the costs and the potential damage to ecosystems, such as effects on local fish populations.
Seaweed farming at scale would occupy thousands if not millions of square kilometres of oceans, displacing fishing, shipping and conservation. Harvesting 1 billion tonnes of seaweed carbon would require farming more than 1 million square km of the Pacific Ocean, and would deliver just 10% of the annual atmospheric carbon dioxide removal required to limit global warming to 1.5°C.
It’s doubtful whether seaweed farming would actually remove carbon from the atmosphere. But seaweed farming can – if well-planned – produce a range of other climate-related benefits.
Moreover, interventions often overlap in space and time, creating cumulative impacts and unintended consequences. In some cases, the projects may displace other users, undermine Indigenous rights, or erode public trust in climate science and policy. Without careful understanding and planning, these efforts could exacerbate the very problems they aim to solve.
Governance gaps and ethical dilemmas
One of the most pressing challenges is the lack of regulation and oversight suited to the scale and complexity of marine climate interventions.
Ethical dilemmas abound. Who decides what constitutes a “healthy” ocean? Who bears responsibility if an intervention causes harm? And how do we ensure benefits — such as improved livelihoods or climate resilience — are equitably distributed?
Currently, scientists, funding bodies and non-government organisations do the bulk of the decision-making. There is limited input from governments, local communities and Indigenous Peoples. This imbalance risks perpetuating historical injustices and undermining the legitimacy of many ocean-based climate actions.
Ocean Alkalinity Enhancement has been proposed for St Ives in Cornwall. diego_torres, pixabug, FAL
Toward responsible marine transformation
We identified opportunities for scientists, policymakers, and funding bodies to work together more effectively on more comprehensive assessments of interventions.
Guidelines and insights are emerging from experimental-scale research into capturing and storing “blue” carbon in ocean and coastal ecosystems. Similarly, a non-profit organisation in the United States has developed a code of conduct for marine carbon dioxide removal. However these guidelines are yet to be integrated into broader governance frameworks.
Awareness of the urgent need to ensure intervention is done responsibly is also growing. Many high-level policy documents now recognise the importance of transitioning to more sustainable, equitable, and adaptive states. For example, the Samoa Climate Change Policy 2020 recognises the need to adapt coastal economies and communities to warming oceans, while also working to reduce carbon emissions.
We can use the ocean in our fight against climate change (United Nations)
Proceed with caution
The ocean is central to our climate future. It absorbs heat, stores carbon, and sustains life. But it is also vulnerable — and increasingly, a site of experimentation. If we are to harness the promise of ocean-based climate action, we must do so with care, humility, and foresight.
Responsible governance is not a barrier to innovation — it is its foundation. By embedding ethical, inclusive, and evidence-based principles into our marine climate strategies, we can chart a course toward a more resilient and equitable ocean future.
Emily M. Ogier receives salary support from the Australia Research Council. She receives funding from The Nature Conservancy, the Fisheries Research and Development Corporation and the Blue economy Centre for Research Excellence. She is affiliated with the Centre for Marine Socioecology.
Gretta Pecl receives funding from the Australian Research Council, Department of Agriculture Water and the Environment, Department of Primary Industries NSW, Department of Premier and Cabinet (Tasmania), the Fisheries Research and Development Corporation, The Ian Potter Foundation and has received travel funding support from the Australian government for participation in the UN Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change process. She is affiliated with the Biodiversity Council and the Centre for Marine Socioecology.
Tiffany Morrison receives funding from the Australian Research Council Laureate and Discovery Programmes, WorldFish-CGIAR ( (formerly the Consultative Group for International Agricultural Research), and The Nature Conservancy Science for Nature and People Partnership.
A former New Caledonia Congress president says there are “not enough” benefits for Kanaks in a new “draft” agreement he signed alongside pro and anti-independence stakeholders in France last month.
Roch Wamytan said that, after 10 days of deadlock discussions in Paris, he failed to secure the pro-independence mandate.
He told RNZ Pacific that he refused to sign a “final agreement”.
Instead, he said, he opted for a “draft” agreement, which is what he signed. It has been hailed as “historic” by all parties involved.
While France maintains its “neutrality”, Wamytan said that at the negotiating table it was two (France and New Caledonia’s pro-France bloc) against one (pro-Kanaky).
A main point of tension was the electoral law changes, which sparked last year’s civil unrest.
“We call on France to respect the provisions of international law, which remains our main protective shield until the process of decolonisation and emancipation is completed. Hence, our incessant interventions during negotiations on this subject [electoral law changes],” Wamytan told RNZ Pacific.
He said it was difficult to understand whether France wanted to decolonise New Caledonia or not.
Concrete measures “We have a lot of concrete measures in this proposed agreement, but the main question is a political question. Where are you [France] going with this? Independence or integration with France?”
The document, signed in the city of Bougival, involves a series of measures and recognition by France of New Caledonia as a “State” as well as dual citizenship — French and New Caledonian — provided future New Caledonian citizens are French nationals in the first place.
But this week, New Caledonia’s oldest pro-independence party, the Union Calédonienne (UC), officially rejected the political agreement signed in Paris.
However, Sonia Backès, the leader of the Caledonian Republicans Party and the president of the Provincial Assembly of Southern Province, says the agreement signed in France is “final”.
“Roch Wamytan and the pro-independence delegation signed an agreement in Bougival. Since their return to New Caledonia, their political supports have been fiercely critical of the agreement,” her office said via a statement.
“As a result, radical pro-independence leaders like Roch Wamytan have chosen to renege on their commitment and withdraw their signature. This agreement is final; there is no other viable political balance outside of it.”
So why did Wamytan sign? When asked why he signed the draft agreement when he did not agree with it, he said: “After the 10 days they obliged us to sign something.”
“We told them that we [didn’t have] the mandate of our parties to sign an agreement, but only a ‘project’ or ‘draft’.
“It was important for us to return with a paper and to show, to explain, to present, to debate, for the debate of our political party. This is the stage where we are at now, but for the moment, we do not agree with that.
“We [tried] to explain to [France and pro-France bloc] that we have a problem [with electoral law change being included].
“This is our problem. So we signed only for one reason . . . that we have to return back home and to explain where we are now, after 10 days of negotiation. [Did we] achieve the objectives, the mandate given by our political parties?”
He said one thing he wanted to make clear was that what he had signed was not definitive and was now up for negotiation.
An FLNKS (Kanak and Socialist National Liberation Front) Congress meeting is set down for this weekend with the Union Calédonienne Congress meeting held a weekend prior.
Wamytan said that it was now up to the FLNKS members to have their say and decide where to next.
“They will decide if we accept this draft agreement or we reject,” he said.
“We have two options: we accept with certain conditions, for example, on the question of the right to vote on the electoral rule. Or for the question of the trajectory from here to independence, through a referendum or the framework proposed by President Macron.”
“This is an important element to discuss with France, but after this round of discussions.”
He expected further meetings with France after community consultations.
Communication problem Wamytan admitted that the pro-independence negotiators did not communicate clearly about the agreement to their supporters.
He said after signing the document, President Macron and the pro-France signatories were quick to communicate to the media and their supporters — and the messages filtered to his supporters resulting in anger and frustrations.
He said the anger has mostly been around the signing itself, with people mistaking the draft proposal as final.
“The political, pro-Kanaky party were very, very, very angry against us. We did not communicate and this I think is our problem.”
Bribery allegations Wamytan has also dismissed unconfirmed reports that negotiators were bribed to sign a historic deal in Paris.
He said he was aware of people “chucking accusations of bribery” around, but said they were false.
“It has never been in the minds of Kanak independence leaders doing such practices,” he said.
“After the signature of the Matignon Accord 37 years ago, with [FLNKS leader Jean-Marie Tjibaou] and with us after the signature of Nouméa accord in 1998, we heard about the same allegation and some rumours like this.”
This article is republished under a community partnership agreement with RNZ.
But, speaking to RNZ Midday Report, Clark said New Zealand needed to come on board.
“We are watching a catastrophe unfold in Gaza. We’re watching starvation. We’re watching famine conditions for many. Many are using the word genocide,” she said.
“If New Zealand can’t act in these circumstances, when can it act?”
Elders call for recognition “The Elders, a group of world leaders of which Clark is a part, last month issued a call for countries to recognise the state of Palestine, calling it the “beginning, not the end of a political pathway towards lasting peace”.
Clark said the government seemed to be trying avoid the ire of the United States by waiting until the peace process was well underway or nearing its end.
“That is no longer tenable,” she said.
“New Zealand really is lagging behind.”
Even before the recent commitments from France, Canada and the UK, 147 of the UN’s 193 member states had recognised the Palestinian state.
Clark said the hope was that the series of recognitions from major Western states would first shift the US position and then Israel’s.
“When the US moves, Israel eventually jumps because it owes so much to the United States for the support, financial, military and otherwise,” she said.
“At some point, Israel has to smell the coffee.”
Surprised over Peters Clark said she was “a little surprised” that Foreign Minister Winston Peters had not been more forward-leaning given he historically had strongly advocated New Zealand’s even-handed position.
On Wednesday, New Zealand signed a joint statement with 14 other countries expressing a willingness to recognise the State of Palestine as a necessary step towards a two-state solution.
However, later speaking in Parliament, Peters said that was conditional on first seeing progress from Palestine, including representative governance, commitment to non-violence, and security guarantees for Israel.
“If we are to recognise the state of Palestine, New Zealand wants to know that what we are recognising is a legitimate, representative, viable, political entity,” Peters told MPs.
Peters also agreed with a contribution from ACT’s Simon Court that recognising the state of Palestine could be viewed as “a reward [to Hamas] for acts of terrorism” if it was done before Hamas had returned hostages or laid down arms.
Luxon earlier told RNZ New Zealand had long supported the eventual recognition of Palestinian statehood, but that the immediate focus should be on getting aid into Gaza rather than “fragmenting and talking about all sorts of other things that are distractions”.
“We need to put the pressure on Israel to get humanitarian assistance unfettered, at scale, at volume, into Gaza,” he told RNZ.
“You can talk about a whole bunch of other things, but for right now, the world needs to focus.”
This article is republished under a community partnership agreement with RNZ.
Driven by a desire to explore Nigeria’s literary and cultural history beyond the metropolis of Lagos, I took a road trip to Ibadan, once the most important university town in the country. Ibadan, in Oyo State, was the first city in Nigeria to have a university set up in 1948.
It’s the city where celebrated Nigerian artist and architect Demas Nwoko imagined and built his utopias. Where the Oxford University Press and Heinemann Educational Books established their west African headquarters.
Books have always been a form of cultural currency in Ibadan. The presence of major publishers meant that bookshops were not just retail outlets, but intellectual salons, sites of encounter and exchange.
So while in Ibadan I visited cultural spaces and independent bookshops but it was the charms of the University campus that mostly captured my imagination. And my favourite place was the University of Ibadan Bookshop. At this campus bookshop I lingered the most, in awe and wonder. Its eclectic range of books, journals, public lecture pamphlets, novels, poetry collections and monographs excited me.
Today, when the global publishing economy has increasingly digitised and centralised, the bookshop feels almost radical just by existing. It’s a reminder that intellectual life in Africa is not peripheral or derived from the west. It is present, prolific and profoundly local. To walk through the shelves of this bookshop was to encounter a history of African thought written and produced on its own terms.
As a scholar of African literature and archives, my research traces the hidden lives of spaces that have shaped publishing and archives. University bookshops have been overlooked but are essential nodes in the continent’s intellectual history.
A snapshot of Nigeria
This campus bookshop gives a snapshot of Nigeria as a print country. Here we witness the nation through its printed matter. A nation of prolific publishing. I found the literary output in the Ibadan campus bookshop not only vast but exuberant and unrelenting. It reflects the texture of the Nigerian personality: loud, boisterous, layered and insistent. Stacks upon stacks of books.
In these stacks, it dawned on me that beneath the surface lies a vibrant, ongoing literary discourse that is unmistakably Nigerian, and sadly not resonant far beyond its borders. These are books you don’t see on reference lists of “popular” and “influential” scholarship that privileges work produced and imported to Africa from the Euro-American academy.
I was especially intrigued with how the Nigerian academic and writer does not tire in producing academic and cultural journals. There are journals for every subject under the sun.
While the critical framework of African literature is too often shaped by the global north (see critiques by Ato Quayson, Biodun Jeyifo, Simon Gikandi and Grace Musila) in Ibadan, I saw a distinctly local and deeply African critical discourse rooted in place, language and lived experience. To walk into the University of Ibadan Bookshop is to step into legacy. Its shelves bear the weight of decades of African thought, theory and storytelling.
Despite being housed in an ageing building, it has stayed defiant. Even though floods destroyed books and computers worth a small fortune in 2019, the bookshop is still standing proudly. And there was pride too among the staff who were eager to help or answer any questions about the books.
More than bookshops
The University of Ibadan bookshop reminded me of the bookshop from my undergraduate days in Zimbabwe. Even though our campus bookshop was much smaller, I used to find pleasure going there in between lectures. It often felt like walking into a vault of African knowledge and memory.
Our bookshop at Midlands State University stocked old, canonical books alongside current literature. On occasion, rare, out-of-print secondhand books would appear on the shelves. The bargain sales also meant I spent most of my money there.
But to call these spaces on African university campuses “bookshops” hardly does them justice. They are hybrid cultural ecosystems that function as part bookshop, part print shop, stationer, library and sometimes even archive. They have long served as vital nodes in the circulation of African knowledge and thought.
Yet this ecosystem is rapidly eroding, undermined by the rise of internet culture, artificial intelligence, piracy and harsh economic conditions. The result is a slow but devastating disappearance of African intellectual memory. As scholars remind us, digital platforms are not neutral. They are structured by algorithms that often marginalise black and African knowledge. So, the loss of these analogue spaces is more than nostalgic, it is epistemic erasure.
In this digital age, there is something vital about the physical presence of bookshops on African campuses. Thanks to them, as a student, for me literature was the serendipity of discovery, the tactile feel of books, the beautiful persistence of a local knowledge system that was relatable and produced by people like me.
On the way out of the city, we stopped at Bower’s Tower. From there you can see Ibadan’s sprawling layout, the ancient hills from which the settlement was built, and its red roofs.
The view reflected the complexity and density of ideas the city has nurtured. And despite shifts in Nigeria’s publishing geography from here to Lagos and Abuja, Ibadan still matters. It’s a city that remembers, that archives, that holds on to knowledge.
Tinashe Mushakavanhu 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 sisters running Auckland’s first authentic Polynesian show for tourists say it’s not just for visitors, but also to help uplift Pacific people.
Louisa Tipene Opetaia and Ama Mosese’s Glorious Tours was pooled as one of 10 new “Treasures of Tāmaki Makaurau”: a go-to guide by Tātaki Auckland Unlimited (TAU) for local Māori tourism.
Their tour tells the story of how Auckland became the biggest Polynesian city in the world, and often starts with a drop in at a Pacific or Māori-owned cafe, a guided hīkoi up the Māngere mountain, hangi lunch, a haka show at the museum, then end with a kava-drinking experience.
The tour, which has been running for a year, aims to give visitors an Auckland experience through local eyes, with Māori-led journeys and dining events.
Opetaia said before they started their tour, tourists were travelling to Rotorua for a Pacific cultural experience.
The only other regular Polynesian show for tourists in Auckland was at Auckland Museum, where there was a daily haka show.
“We have rich culture gold in south Auckland,” she said.
“All tourists fly here, in our backyard and we wanted to offer them something right here.”
The sisters, who are of Māori and Samoan heritage, call themselves “cultural connectors”.
‘The space was lacking’ “We’ve been working for these other companies for some time, some of them not even New Zealand-owned. And we felt we were the face of these companies but behind the scenes it wasn’t a local or Māori or indigenous business.
“We decided to step into this space that we saw was lacking, and offer authentic indigenous cultural experiences here in Tāmaki Makaurau — the biggest Polynesian city in the world.”
Glorious Tours is based out of Naumi Hotel, near the Auckland Airport in Māngere.
“We tailor it to what they want, so if they like shopping we take them to places where they can buy authentic Pacific goods, or we take them to our local gallery in Māngere.
This month, the sisters will launch a Polynesian dinner and dance show in Māngere, featuring local schools.
“It’s not just for the tourists, it’s for our own people. Our kaupapa is to uplift our local people, especially our rangatahi.”
TAU director of Māori outcomes Helen Te Hira said Treasures of Tāmaki Makaurau plays a vital role in ensuring Māori culture, businesses and leadership are central to the way Tāmaki Makaurau is experienced by visitors.
“Every business on this platform brings something unique — a sense of purpose, cultural depth and creative excellence.”
LDR is local body journalism co-funded by RNZ and NZ On Air. Asia Pacific Report is a partner.
A former senior UN aid official has condemned the bloodshed at the notorious US and Israel-backed Gaza Humanitarian Foundation’s aid food depots, describing the distribition system as having turned into a “catastrophe”.
The number of aid seekers killed continues to climb daily beyond 1000.
Martin Griffiths, director of Mediation Group International and the former Under Secretary General of the UN Humanitarian Affairs Office, said: “I think when many of us saw the first plans of the GHF to launch this operation in Gaza, we were immediately appalled by the way they were proposing to manage it.”
“It was clearly militarised. They’d have their own security contractors,” he told Al Jazeera.
“They’d have [Israeli military] camps placed right beside them. We know now that they are, in fact, under instructions by [the Israeli military].
“All of this is a crime. All of this is a deep betrayal of humanitarian values.
“But what I at least did not sufficiently anticipate was the killing and was the absolutely critical result of this operation, this sole humanitarian operation allowed by Israel in Gaza,” Griffiths added.
“The 1000 killed are an incredible statistic. I had no idea it would go that high and it’s going on daily. It’s not stopping.
“I think it’s a catastrophe more than a disappointment,” he said. “I think it’s a great sin. I think it’s a great crime.”
Humanitarian aid advocate Martin Griffiths . . . We know now that [GHF] are, in fact, under instructions by [the Israeli military]. All of this is a crime.” Image: Wikipedia
Commenting about US envoy Steve Witkoff and US ambassador to Israel Mike Huckabee’s planned visit to GHF-run aid distribution sites in Gaza, he said this was “likely to be choreographed”.
However, he acknowledged it was still an “important form of witness”.
“I’m glad that they’re going,” Griffiths said.
“Maybe they will see things that are unexpected. I can’t imagine because we’ve seen so much. But I don’t see it leading to a major change.
“If I was one of the two million Gazans starving to death, this is a day I would like to go to an aid distribution point,” Griffiths added.
“There’s slightly less risk probably than any other day.”
Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Stuart J. Murray, Professor of Rhetoric and Ethics | Professeur titulaire en rhétorique et éthique, Carleton University
Why do images of Donald Trump as a galactic emperor or Luigi Mangione as a Catholic saint resonate so deeply with some people? Memes don’t just entertain — they shape how we identify with power, grievance and justice in the digital age.
A meme is a decontextualized video or image — often captioned — that circulates an idea, behaviour or style, primarily through social media. As they spread, memes are adapted, remixed and transformed, helping to solidify the communities around them.
Trump, the meme pope
Days after Pope Francis’s death in April 2025, Trump posted an AI-generated image of himself in papal regalia on Truth Social. The White House’s official X account then shared it, amplifying its reach.
Trump quickly dismissed it as a joke, but the image lingered.
Two days later, another emerged: Trump as galactic emperor, blending Star Wars aesthetics with the visual rhetoric of Warhammer 40,000, a popular dystopian sci-fi franchise featuring authoritarian rulers, imperial armies and endless war.
Trump memes like these once circulated semi-ironically in social media subcultures like Reddit and 4chan under the banner “God Emperor Trump.”
But what might previously have seemed like absurdist cosplay now carries the symbolic weight of executive power, blending religious and imperial imagery to project Trump as a mythical figure, not just a politician.
Fact-checking can’t stop them. We know they are factually untrue, but they feel true and consolidate a shared sentiment among Trump’s base.
The meme is not a joke — it’s an in-joke only the in-group understands.
And that’s the point.
A meme is an accelerant, delivering compressed emotional payloads, short-circuiting debate and reinforcing people’s political identifications. Propelled by algorithms and designed to go viral, memes solicit immediate responses — outrage, loyalty, disgust, amusement.
Memes don’t ask what’s true or what’s just.
Instead, they curate — and encode — emotional alignment, replacing liberalism’s democratic ideal of reasoned public discourse with viral attachment: grievance recoded as identity.
Elon Musk and weaponizing empathy
On Feb. 20, 2025, days after Trump appointed Elon Musk to head his new Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), the Tesla founder appeared at the Conservative Political Action Conference, an annual gathering of conservative activists and officials from across the U.S.
At the conference, Musk brandished a chainsaw, declaring: “I have become the meme!.” An image of him holding the chainsaw later actually became a meme.
The image projects libertarian efficiency and masculine bravado, but it more than just mocks bureaucracy — it glorifies cutting ties to domestic, global and humanitarian responsibilities.
Far from being merely a meme, it advances a policy of neglect that intentionally lets others die.
Experts estimate that DOGE’s purge of USAID could result in 14 million preventable deaths over the next five years, disproportionately affecting marginalized populations whose historical exploitation helped generate the wealth now wielded as power.
Individuals vs. the collective
But we are not meant to feel empathy. In early 2025, Musk called empathy “the fundamental weakness of western civilization,” claiming it is “weaponized by the left.”
Yet Musk doesn’t reject empathy entirely — only empathy for individuals, which he said risks “civilizational suicide.”
Instead, Musk believes we must have empathy for “civilization as a whole.” Such rhetoric — sacrificing individuals for the collective — recalls a chilling Nazi-era slogan: Du bist nichts, dein Volk ist alles (“You are nothing, your people are everything”). Musk has also drawn criticism for making public Nazi salutes and ethno-nationalist statements advocating for white people.
If Trump and Musk memes stage fantasies of absolute power, Mangione memes reply with fantasies of redemptive rupture.
Accused of killing UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson, Mangione has been lionized in memes that champion vulnerability and social justice, opposing the billionaire class — figures like Trump and Musk — who put profits over people.
These memes appear to oppose the MAGA meme machine, encoding class struggle as quiet defiance and anti-authoritarianism. Unlike Musk’s chainsaw-wielding bravado, which seems to mask a fragile ego, Mangione memes project a humble, rebellious heartthrob.
Yet, like Trump and Musk, Mangione has become a brand. His face adorns T-shirts and “St. Luigi” prayer candles, capitalizing on the popular meme that emerged soon after his arrest. This commodification mirrors right-wing meme economies, even if the message differs.
They don’t just reflect feeling — they organize it, channelling it into cultural, political and literal currency, including a Luigi crypto coin ($LUIGI) and a musical.
These memes share MAGA meme tactics: relentless repetition and emotional saturation. Instead of encouraging thoughtful debate, they rally communities around shared grievances, acts of defiance and collective faith.
Feeling our way through the feed
From MAGA to Mangione, meme-mythologies often function as rationalizations of violence — whether framed as righteous, purifying or revolutionary. But what unites Trump’s papal cosplay, Musk’s chainsaw and Mangione’s martyrdom isn’t their message but their form.
Whether cloaked in MAGA nostalgia or social justice sentiments, memes that appear to resist power often reproduce the structures that made that power so intoxicating in the first place.
We’ve seen how official White House and Department of Homeland Security social media memes have become increasingly cruel, sinister, polarizing and even radicalizing.
Meanwhile, some liberals on the left continue to promote what is known as the “marketplace of ideas” — the belief that truth will prevail if all ideas are allowed to circulate freely. But reason doesn’t always triumph over power. And memes aren’t just ideas: they’re technologies that bypass deliberation to shape our feelings, identities and ways of communicating.
Musk’s “I have become the meme” therefore reveals a paradox: he claims to master the meme, but no one can control its circulation or uptake. Trump and Mangione, too, are less individuals than avatars — produced by a digital culture that pre-shapes our perceptions of them.
The violence, however, is very real. If one violent act doesn’t justify counter-violence, it nonetheless structures and occasions it. Each side claims it is just.
Memes don’t ask: can we intentionally let others die and still be just? Answering this question is nearly impossible in a meme world. The answer will be a meme. And it will be a joke.
Stuart J. Murray receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada.
The response of Canada’s legacy news media to the Israeli government’s military action in Gaza for more than 640 days points to a problem within major Canadian news organizations, according to a new Canadian book, When Genocide Wasn’t News.
In the book, journalists — some writing under pseudonyms — say their newsrooms have been severely hampered by a culture of fear and an adherence to a notion of objectivity that no longer serves the public.
As Carleton University journalism professor Duncan McCue argues, an unexamined adherence to objectivity can perpetuate colonial points of view. University of British Columbia journalism professors Candis Callison and Mary Lynn Young, authors of a book about journalism’s racial reckoning in Canada, also make this argument.
Accusations of antisemitism
Accusations of bias can have an outsized impact on reporting and be used to silence journalists.
Not only do journalists say they are facing threats, they also face a context in which governments, such as the province of Ontario, are adhering to definitions of antisemitism that equate it to criticism of Israel.
Reporters who focused on stories about human rights, questioned the tactics and budgets of the military industrial complex or challenged the mistreatment of socialist activists as being unpatriotic were accused of having a liberal, left-wing, even communist, slant.
This is another unprecedented set of events that should be reported on for Canadian audiences.
How will Canadian newsrooms do better? One idea could be that newsrooms join forces to fend off accusations of bias and antisemitism. They could start with reclaiming objectivity as a practice of information-gathering and moving away from objectivity as an ideal of dispassionate reporting.
Every inhabitant of Gaza remains in imminent peril today, and the media have a responsibility to inform us about it.
Gabriela Perdomo does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
In yet another twist in his unpredictable decision making, US president Donald Trump has dramatically shortened his original 50-day ultimatum to Vladimir Putin to call a ceasefire in Ukraine to a mere ten days. It’s an unmistakable sign of Trump’s frustration with the Russian leader who he now appears to view as the main obstacle to ending the war.
Progress has been similarly limited on another of Trump’s flagship foreign policy projects: ending the war in Gaza. As a humanitarian catastrophe engulfs the territory, Trump and some of his Maga base are finally challenging Israel’s denials that, after almost two years of war, many Gazans now face a real risk of starvation.
In neither case have his efforts to mediate and bring an end to the violence borne any fruit. But not all of Trump’s efforts to stop violence in conflicts elsewhere in the world have been similarly futile. The administration brokered a ceasefire between Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), which the two countries’ foreign ministers signed in Washington on June 27.
The US president has also claimed to be behind the ceasefire between India and Pakistan in May after the two sides had engaged in several days of fierce combat following a terror attack in Indian-administered Kashmir by a Pakistan-backed rebel group. And, drawing a clear parallel between this conflict and the border clashes between Cambodia and Thailand in July, Trump announced he had pushed both countries’ leaders to negotiate a ceasefire.
Three factors can explain Trump’s mixed record of peacemaking to date. First, the US president is more likely to succeed in stopping the fighting where he has leverage and is willing to use it to force foreign leaders to bend to his will. For example, Trump was very clear that there would be no trade negotiations with Thailand or Cambodia “until such time as the fighting STOPS”.
The crucial difference, so far, with the situation in the war against Ukraine is that Trump has, and has used, similar leverage only with the Ukrainian president, Volodymyr Zelensky. This led to a US-Ukraine agreement on a 30-day ceasefire proposal just two weeks after the now-notorious row between Trump and Zelensky in the Oval Office.
The mere threat of sanctions against Russia, by contrast, has done little to persuade Putin to accept whatever deal might Trump offer him. Trump’s threats – which he has never followed through on – did not work in January or May. The Kremlin’s initial reactions to the latest ultimatum from the White House do not indicate a change in Putin’s attitude.
A second factor that may explain why Trump has had peacemaking success in some cases but not others is the level of complexity of US interests involved. When it comes to US relations with Russia and Israel, there is a lot more at stake for Trump.
The US president still appears keen to strike a grand bargain with Russia and China under which Washington, Beijing and Moscow would agree to recognise, and not interfere in, their respective spheres of influence. This could explains his hesitation so far to follow through on his threats to Putin.
Similarly, US interests in the Middle East – whether it’s over Iran’s nuclear programme or relations with America’s Gulf allies – have put strains on the alliance with Israel. Trump also needs to weigh carefully the impact of any move against, or in support of, Israel on his domestic support base.
In the deal Trump brokered between Rwanda and the DRC, the issues at stake were much simpler: access for US investors to the mineral riches of the eastern DRC. Just days into his second term, Trump acknowledged that the conflict was a “very serious problem”. Congo’s president, Felix Tshisekedi, responded by offering the US access to minerals in exchange for pushing Rwanda to a deal to end the invasion and stop supporting proxy forces in the DRC.
This leads to the third factor that has enabled Trump’s peace-making success so far: simpler solutions are easier to achieve. Thailand and Cambodia and India and Pakistan can go back to the situation before their recent fighting. That does not resolve any of the underlying issues in their conflicts, but returns their relations to some form of non-violent stability.
It is ultimately also in the interests of the conflict parties. They have had a chance to make their violent statements and reinforce what they will and won’t tolerate from the other side. The required investment by an external mediator to end battles that have achieved what the warring sides want anyway – to avoid further escalation – is consequently quite limited.
Complex conflicts
Getting to any kind of stability in Ukraine or the Middle East by contrast requires prolonged engagement and attention to detail. These conflicts are at a stage in which a return to how things were before is not in the interests of the parties or their external backers. Nudging warring parties along on the path to agreement under such conditions requires a well-designed process, which is absent in Ukraine and failing in Gaza.
Thanks to funding and personnel cuts, the US secretary of state, Marco Rubio, is now required to perform multiple roles. Trump relies on personal envoys with at best limited foreign policy expertise, while insisting he makes all the decisions. This ultimately suggests that the White House simply may not have the bandwidth for the level of engagement that would be necessary to get to a deal in Ukraine and the Middle East.
This is a self-inflicted opportunity lost, not only for the United States but also for the long-suffering people of Ukraine and the Middle East.
Stefan Wolff is a past recipient of grant funding from the Natural Environment Research Council of the UK, the United States Institute of Peace, the Economic and Social Research Council of the UK, the British Academy, the NATO Science for Peace Programme, the EU Framework Programmes 6 and 7 and Horizon 2020, as well as the EU’s Jean Monnet Programme. He is a Trustee and Honorary Treasurer of the Political Studies Association of the UK and a Senior Research Fellow at the Foreign Policy Centre in London.
Beneath churchyards in London and Lincolnshire lie the chemical echoes of famine, infection and survival preserved in the teeth of those who lived through some of the most catastrophic periods in English history.
In a new study, my colleagues and I examined over 270 medieval skeletons to investigate how early-life malnutrition affected long-term health and life expectancy.
We focused on people who lived through the devastating period surrounding the Black Death (1348-1350), which included years of famine during the little ice age and the great bovine pestilence (an epidemic that killed two-thirds of cattle in England and Wales). We found that the biological scars of childhood deprivation during this time left lasting marks on the body.
These findings suggest that early nutritional stress, whether in the 14th century or today, can have consequences that endure well beyond childhood.
Children’s teeth act like tiny time capsules. The hard layer inside each tooth, called dentine, sits beneath the enamel and forms while we’re growing up. Once formed, it stays unchanged for life, creating a permanent record of what we ate and experienced.
As our teeth develop, they absorb different chemical versions (isotopes) of carbon and nitrogen from our food, and these get locked into the tooth structure. This means scientists can read the story of someone’s childhood diet by analysing their teeth.
A method of measuring the chemical changes in sequential slices of the teeth is a recent advance used to identify dietary changes in past populations with greater accuracy.
When children are starving, their bodies break down their fat stores and muscle to continue growing. This gives a different signature in the newly formed dentine than the isotopes from food. These signatures make centuries-old famines visible today, showing exactly how childhood trauma affected health in medieval times.
We identified a distinctive pattern that had been seen before in victims of the great Irish famine. Normally, when people eat a typical diet, the levels of carbon and nitrogen in their teeth move in the same direction. For example, both might rise or fall together if someone eats more plants or animals. This is called “covariance” because the two markers vary together.
But during starvation, nitrogen levels in the teeth rise while carbon levels stay the same or drop. This opposite movement – called “opposing covariance” – is like a red flag in the teeth that shows when a child was starving. These patterns helped us pinpoint the ages at which people experienced malnutrition.
Lifelong legacy
Children who survived this period reached adulthood during the plague years, and the effect on their growth was recorded in the chemical signals in their teeth. People with famine markers in their dentine had different mortality rates than those who lacked these markers.
For example, babies born small, a possible sign of nutritional stress, seem to be more prone to illnesses such as heart disease and diabetes in adulthood than the population at large. These characteristics can also be passed to future offspring through changes in how genes are switched on or off, known as “epigenetic effects” – which can endure for three generations.
Epigenetics explained.
In medieval England, early nutritional deprivation may have been beneficial during catastrophic times by producing adults of short stature and the capacity to store fat, but these people were much more likely to die after the age of 30 than their peers with healthy childhood dentine patterns.
The patterns for childhood starvation increased in the decades leading up to the Black Death and declined after 1350. This suggests the pandemic may have indirectly improved living conditions by reducing population pressure and increasing access to food.
The medieval teeth tell us something urgent about today. Right now, millions of children worldwide are experiencing the same nutritional crises that scarred those long-dead English villagers – whether from wars in Gaza and Ukraine or poverty in countless countries.
Their bodies are writing the same chemical stories of survival into their growing bones and teeth, creating biological problems that will emerge decades later as heart disease, diabetes and early death.
Our latest findings aren’t just historical curiosities; they’re an urgent warning that the children we fail to nourish today will carry those failures in their bodies for life and pass them on to their own children. The message from the medieval graves couldn’t be clearer: feed the children now or pay the price for generations.
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Julia Beaumont receives funding from Arts and Humanities research council, British Academy/Leverhulme.
Over a fifth of people in the UK have tried to access a weight loss drug in the last year, according to a recent poll.
Weight loss jabs such as Mounjaro (tirzepatide) and Wegovy (semaglutide) are very effective in managing obesity. Clinical trials have shown that some people lose up to 26% of their body weight while using these drugs.
With this impact, it’s no wonder a growing number of people are seeking out these products – often buying them in private clinics or online. But with plans to expand access to these drugs through NHS prescriptions, there are concerns that supply may not meet demand – especially for those people in most need.
In the UK, NHS prescriptions for weight loss jabs are only approved for people who meet strict eligibility requirements. For example, to qualify early for Mounjaro from your GP, you must have health problems due to your weight and a body mass index greater than 40 (adjusted for ethnicity). People assessed by the NHS and given prescriptions will also have access to additional support – such as advice about diet and physical activity.
Weight loss drugs can be prescribed by specialist clinics and, increasingly, local GPs. But a lack of time and resources means even those who are eligible are left waiting. Consequently, people who can afford to do so are approaching private providers for access to these medicines – despite the potential risks to their health.
Demand for weight loss jabs is about to grow, as the provision of Mounjaro via GPs is imminent, pending the creation of an infrastructure to support safe local prescribing.
The number of monthly GP prescriptions in England for Mounjaro has already risen from under 3,000 in March 2024 (on introduction) to over 200,000 in May 2025. Mounjaro (also marketed in the US as Zepbound) is widely considered to be the best weight loss jab currently available and a great commercial success.
GP prescriptions of all forms of semaglutide (the active ingredient in Wegovy) are more stable, at around 130,000 items per month (including generics and products to treat diabetes).
While a number of GLP-1 drugs faced shortages last year (including Wegovy and Mounjaro), these shortages have now been resolved. Shortages were spurred by a spike in global demand for these drugs alongside stockpiling by private clinics to feed requests.
Still, there were reports early this year that certain strengths of Mounjaro were difficult to access. The reasons for this are not clear, but may be due to the novelty of access to this new medication or a lack of access to alternatives.
Wider NHS access to this drug is being phased to manage staff workload and ensure good support for patients. Phased rollout may also help to ensure there is enough supply for those who need to be prescribed one of these medications.
Future access
It’s likely that demand for these weight loss drugs will only continue to grow in the UK, so it’s important that supply is readily available.
Regulatory agencies have taken some steps to tighten controls of online prescribing of weight loss drugs and prevent misuse. Registered online pharmacies must seek independent verification of key clinical information (such as from a GP or through a person’s medical records) instead of relying on questionnaires or phone calls.
However, weight loss products remain easy to access for people with money and savvy search skills, but who may be clinically ineligible. The scale of demand from this group is difficult to quantify, but it’s clear more needs to be done to keep patients safe and manage demand.
Several new weight loss drugs are undergoing trials in the UK. These drugs will work similarly to those already available but may be administered differently (such as an oral tablet). The trials for these and subsequent approvals will not only increase market competition, but also improve patient access and choice.
Key patents for the manufacture of semaglutide are also due to expire in 2026 and 2031. Once a pharmaceutical product is outside of its patented time frame, other companies can be approved to manufacture it as a generic product.
A generic product is approved on the basis that it works in the same manner and has equal benefits to the original product. The generics market allows new entrants and new versions of these very popular products onto the market.
Generic products are usually less expensive and so are bought (where still clinically safe and effective) by the NHS. This change could provide greater access to weight loss medications and save the NHS and patients money in the long term.
Generic semaglutide products will probably be available in the UK from 2032 but will be initially authorised to treat diabetes rather than weight loss. Still, this should have a positive impact on the availability of prescription drugs used for both diabetes and weight management.
Generic liraglutide is already available on the NHS for the treatment of diabetes. The liraglutide brand Saxenda is also marketed for weight management. However, liraglutide is less effective than Wegovy or Mounjaro and requires daily injections.
The number of monthly NHS prescriptions for liraglutide has fallen from over 40,000 in July 2020 to 1,000 in May 2025. This fall was most likely influenced by the discontinuation of the Victoza brand for type 2 diabetes in late 2024. Shortages of all types of GLP-1 drugs, which lasted until the end of 2024, may also have impacted demand for liraglutide.
For now, NHS staff can report on known demand for these products to inform manufacturing quantities and procurement. What isn’t known is the future demand for online or private purchases of weight management drugs. It’s this “unknown” demand that may mean supply security is challenged and unsustainable.
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The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Source: The Conversation – UK – By Ioanna Stamataki, Senior Lecturer in Hydraulics and Water Engineering, University of Greenwich
In recent years, I have all too often found myself passing over an active wildfire when flying from London to my family home in Greece during the summer months. The sky glows an eerie, apocalyptic red, and the scent of smoke fills the cabin. Silence falls as we become unwilling witnesses to a tragic spectacle.
Now wildfires are again raging across the Mediterranean. But the flames themselves are only part of the story. As wildfires become more intense and frequent, they’re setting off a dangerous chain reaction – one that also includes a rising risk of devastating floods.
Author’s photo from a plane landing in Athens last summer. Ioanna Stamataki
In January 2024, Nasa reported that climate change is intensifying wildfire conditions, noting that the frequency of the most extreme wildfires had more than doubled over the past two decades. While some of this is driven by natural weather variability, human-induced warming is clearly playing a major role. Decades of rising temperatures combined with longer and more severe droughts have created ideal conditions for wildfires to ignite and spread.
This year, another brutal Mediterranean wildfire season is unfolding right before our eyes, with numerous active wildfire fronts across the region. As of July 22 2025, 237,153 hectares have burned in the EU – an increase of nearly 78% from the same period last year. The number of fires rose by about 45%, and CO₂ emissions increased by 23% compared to 2024. These are terrifying statistics.
Climate phenomena are closely interconnected
The fires themselves are bad enough. But they’re also closely connected to other climate-related extremes, including floods.
Natural hazards often trigger chain reactions, turning one disaster into many. In the case of floods, wildfires play a big role both through weather patterns and how the land responds to rain.
On the weather side, higher temperatures lead to more extreme rainfall, as warmer air can hold more moisture and fuels stronger storms. Intense wildfires can sometimes get so hot they generate their own weather systems, like pyrocumulus clouds – towering storm clouds formed by heat, smoke and water vapour. These clouds can spark sudden, localised storms during or shortly after the fire.
The damage doesn’t end when the flames die down. Satellite data shows that burned land can remain up to 10°C hotter for nearly a year, due to lost vegetation and damaged soil.
As the world warms, the atmosphere is able to hold about 7% more moisture for every extra degree. Recent temperatures of 40°C or more in Greece suggest a capacity for more downpours and more flooding.
Wildfires also make the land itself more vulnerable to flooding. Burnt areas respond much faster to rain, as there is less vegetation to slow down the water. Wildfires also change the soil structure, often making it water-repellent. This means more water runs off the surface, erosion increases, and it takes less rain to trigger a flood.
Under these conditions, a storm expected once every ten years can cause the sort of catastrophic flooding expected only every 100 to 200 years. Water moves much faster across scorched landscapes without plants to slow it down. Wildfires also leave behind a lot of debris, which can be swept up by fast-moving floodwaters.
While EU-wide data on post-wildfire flood risk is still limited, various case studies from southern Europe offer strong evidence of the connection. In Spain’s Ebro River Basin, for example, research found that if emissions remain high and climate policy is limited, wildfires will increase the probability of high flood risk by 10%.
Nature’s ability to regenerate is nothing short of magical, but recovering from a wildfire takes time. Burnt soil takes years to return to normal and, during that time, the risks of extreme rainfall are higher. Beyond the impact of wildfires on soil and water, it is important not to overlook the devastating loss of plant and animal species or even entire ecosystems, making the natural world less biodiverse and resilient.
To reduce the frequency and severity of extreme events, we must focus on repairing climate damage. This means moving beyond isolated perspectives and adopting a multi-hazard approach that recognises how disasters are connected.
Flooding after wildfires is just one example of how one crisis can trigger another. We need to recognise these cascading risks and focus on long-term resilience over short-term fixes.
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Ioanna Stamataki currently receives funding from the Leverhulme Trust and the Royal Society for ongoing flood research. Previous research has been supported by the EPSRC and the Newton Fund (via the British Council) for career development and international collaboration.
Protesters demonstrated outside several major US media outlets in Washington this week condemning their coverage of the genocide in Gaza, claiming they were to blame over misinformation and the worsening catastrophe.
Banging pots and pans to spotlight the starvation crisis, they accused the media of “complicity in genocide”.
Banners and placards proclaimed “Stop media complicity in genocide” and “US media manufactures consent for Israel’s crimes”, as the protesters demonstrated outside media offices that included NBC News and Fox News.
But the irony was that while the protests appeared to have been ignored or overlooked by national media in the US – and certainly in New Zealand, they were strongly reported by at least one global news agency, Turkey’s Anadolu Agensi.
The protests echoed a series of statements by various news media organisations, such as Agence France-Presse concerned about the safety of their journalists from both under fire and the risk of starvation, and media freedom advocacy groups.
The Doha-based global television news network Al Jazeera, that has been producing arguably the best and most honest news coverage of Gaza and the occupied West Bank – which earned it being banned last year by both Israel and the Palestinian Authority from reporting inside their territory — called for global action to protect Gaza’s journalists.
It said in a statement that Isael’s forced starvation of the besieged enclave that threatened Gaza’s entire population, including those “risking their lives to shed light on Israel’s atrocities”.
Death toll passes 60,000 On Tuesday this week, the world noted a grim milestone in Gaza, with the Health Ministry announcing that the death toll had surpassed 60,000 (this does not include the tens of thousands of people buried under the rubble and missing, presumed dead).
Put in perspective, that is one in every 36 people in Gaza killed, and more than 90 people on average slaughtered every day.
Also, 1157 people have been killed near the notorious Israel and US-backed Gaza “Humanitarian” Foundation food depots condemned as “death traps”, while 154 people have died from starvation, 89 of them children with the numbers rising.
Israel’s genocide – ‘Everyone in Gaza is starving’ Video: Al Jazeera
An episode of the weekly media watch programme, The Listening Post, took up the theme as well, criticising the failure of many high profile Western news services from adequately reporting the horror of Israel’s devastating and cruel policies.
“When trying to stave off starvation becomes part of the job. What it means to be a Palestinian journalist in Gaza. The stories they are determined to tell, the incredible risks they are prepared to take,” said host Richard Gizbert when introducing the programme. He wasted no time firing a few caustic shots.
Metropolitan police on watch for the pro-Palestinian protesters outside Fox News offices in Washington DC this week. Image: AA screenshot APR
“What is unfolding in Gaza now has the appearance of a final solution, orchestrated by Israel and the United States, Israel’s other ally: The transformation of parts of the Gaza strip into starvation and concentration camps, a place where famine has been turned into a weapon of war,” he said.
“Reporting on the reality of this genocide can amount to a death sentence. Palestinian journalists can easily identify with the suffering they are documenting since they too are going hungry.
“They have been targeted because for [Israeli Prime Minister] Benjamin Netanyahu, like other genocidal leaders before him, starving a population is much easier to do when no one is watching.
An Al Jazeera reporter ducks for cover as bombs hit a building behind her in a live broadcast from Gaza . . . featured in The Listening Post’s starvation report. Image: AA screenshot APR
Perpetrator ‘left out’ “Across Western mainstream media, news outlets have been unable to ignore this story of mass starvation in Gaza. But in report after report, they have made a habit of leaving out a key detail – naming the perpetrators of the famine, Israel.
“The missing actors, the sanitised language, the use of the passive grammatical voice, it is all part of the playbook for far too many international news outlets and that is exactly what the few Palestinian journalists still standing are out to tell the world.”
Gizbert explained that “journalists in Gaza already have the world’s toughest assignment”: “Job one for almost 22 months now has been survival; job two, telling heartbreaking stories; documenting a genocide while under fire.”
Hossam Shabat reports on his colleague Anas al-Sharif’s experience at Al Shifa hospital and the starvation of babies in Gaza. Image: Instagram/@hossam_shbat
Like, for example, Al Jazeera Arabic’s Anas al-Sharif who was reporting live from outside Al Shifa medical complex when a woman behind him collapsed at the hospital’s gate.
Al-Sharif, who had reported on the genocide of his own people for more than 650 days without rest or complaint, through Israeli occupation airstrikes, drone attacks, and countless “scenes resembling hell”, suddenly could not take it anymore.
He broke down: “People are falling to the ground from the severity of hunger,” al-Sharif said through his tears. “They need one sip of water. They need one loaf of bread.”
Al-Sharif has also been threatened by the Israeli military, accusing him of being a “Hamas militant”, an accusation strongly denied by Al Jazeera, denouncing what it called Tel Aviv’s “campaign of incitement” against its reporters in the Gaza Strip.
Discredited for bias Many Western mainstream media – including BBC, CNN, Sky, ITN, and Australia’s public broadcaster ABC — have been repeatedly discredited for their “pro-Israel bias” by scores of journalists who have acted as whistleblowers about the actions of their own news organisations.
According to a Declassified UK report, for example, the journalists working for a range of outlets from across the political spectrum have “painted a consistent picture of the obstacles faced by reporters who want to humanise Palestinians or scrutinise Israeli government narratives”. The US media is also under attack and has been putting up a lame defence.
Last week, more than 100 aid groups warned of “mass starvation” throughout Gaza — predictably denied by Israeli government in the face of overwhelming evidence — with their staff severely impacted by shortages and serious implications for journalists already being threatened with targeting by the Israeli military.
Israel faces growing global pressure over the enclave’s dire humanitarian crisis, where more than two million people have endured 22 months of war. UN Security Council member France has led a group of countries announcing that they plan to recognise the Palestinian state at the UN in September, with United Kingdom, Canada, Malta and Finland among those following with the total number now almost 150 of the 193 UN member states.
A statement with 111 signatories, including Doctors Without Borders (MSF), Save the Children and Oxfam, warned that “our colleagues and those we serve are wasting away”. The groups called for an immediate negotiated ceasefire, the opening of all land crossings and the free flow of aid through UN-led mechanisms.
Al Jazeera’s Nour Odeh reported from Amman that the Israeli government had accused the UK of supporting the establishment of a “jihadi” state and of derailing efforts to reach a ceasefire.
“But really,” she said, “the Israeli media, for example, is describing this as a political tsunami, a realisation of how significant the tide is, and how improbable it is to turn it back to countries withholding recognition because Israel said it doesn’t want it.”
Calling for sanctions She also noted how 31 high-profile Israelis, including the former speaker of the Knesset, a former attorney general, and several recipients of Israel’s highest cultural award, were calling on world governments to impose crippling sanctions on Israel to stop the starvation of Palestinians in Gaza and their expulsion
“This was taboo just a few days ago and has never really been done before, certainly not at this level of prominence of the signatories,” Odeh added.
“Israel is starving Gazan journalists into silence,” says the CPJ. Image: CPJ screenshot APR
The New York-based Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) added its voice to the appeal by aid agencies to call for an end to Israel’s starvation of journalists and other civilians in Gaza, backing the plea for states to “save lives before there are none left to save.”
In a statement on its website, the CPJ accused Israel of “starving journalists into silence”.
“Israel is starving Gazan journalists into silence. They are not just reporters, they are frontline witnesses, abandoned as international media were pulled out and denied entry,” said CPJ regional director Sara Qudah.
“The world must act now: protect them, feed them, and allow them to recover while other journalists step in to help report. Our response to their courageous 650 plus-days of war reporting cannot simply be to let them starve to death.”
As Israel partially eased its 11-week total blockade of Gaza that began in May, CPJ published the testimony of six journalists who described how “starvation, dizziness, brain fog, and sickness” had threatened their ability to report.
Among highlights cited by the CPJ: • On June 20, Al Jazeera correspondent Anas Al Sharif — the journalist cited earlier in this article — posted online: “I am drowning in hunger, trembling in exhaustion, and resisting the fainting that follows me every moment . . . Gaza is dying. And we die with it.” • Sally Thabet, correspondent for Al-Kofiya satellite channel, told CPJ that she fainted consciousness after doing a live broadcast on July 20 because she had not eaten all day. She regained consciousness in Al-Shifa hospital, where doctors gave her an intravenous drip for rehydration and nutrition. In an online video, she described how she and her three daughters were starving. • Another Palestinian journalist, Shuruq As’ad said Thabet had been the third journalist to collapse on air from starvation that week, and posted a photograph of Thabet with the drip in her hand. • During a live broadcast on July 20, Al-Araby TV correspondent Saleh Al-Natour said: “We have no choice but to write and speak; otherwise, we will all die.”
Little of this horrendous state of affairs has made it onto the pages of newspapers, websites of the television screens in the New Zealand mainstream media which seems to have a pro-Israel slant and rarely interviews Palestinian journalists or analysts for balance.
“Stop media complicity in genocide” says the protest banner in Washington DC. Image: AA screenshot APR
When historians and the public think about the end of domestic slavery in west Africa, they often imagine colonial governors issuing decrees and missionaries working to end local traffic in enslaved people.
Two of my recent publications tell another part of the story. I am a historian of west Africa, and over the past five years, I have been researching anti-slavery ideas and networks in the region as part of a wider research project.
My research reveals that colonial administrations continued to allow domestic slavery in practice and that African activists fought this.
In one study I focused on Francis P. Fearon, a trader based in Accra, the Ghanaian capital. He exposed pro-slavery within the colonial government through numerous letters written in the 1890s (when the colony was known as the Gold Coast).
In another study I examined the Lagos Auxiliary, a coalition of lawyers, journalists and clergy in Nigeria. Their campaigning secured the repeal of Nigeria’s notorious Native House Rule Ordinance in 1914. That ordinance had been enacted by the colonial government to maintain local slavery in the Niger Delta region.
Considered together, the two studies demonstrate how local campaigners used letters, print culture, imperial pressure points and personal networks to oppose practices that had kept thousands of Africans in bondage.
The methods Fearon and the Lagos Auxiliary pioneered still matter because they show how marginalised communities can compel power‑holders to close the gap between laws and lived reality. They remind us that well‑documented local testimony, amplified trans-nationally, can still overturn official narratives, compel policy change, and keep institutions honest.
Colonial ‘abolition’ that wasn’t
West Africa was a major source of enslaved people during the transatlantic slave trade. The transatlantic trade was suppressed in the early 19th century, but this did not bring an end to domestic slavery.
Accordingly, when the Gold Coast was formally annexed as a British colony in 1874, the imperial government declared slave dealing illegal. And slave-dealing was criminalised across southern Nigeria in 1901. On paper these measures promised freedom, but in practice loopholes empowered slave-holders, chiefs and colonial officials who continued to demand coerced labour.
On the Gold Coast, the 1874 abolition law was never enforced. The British governor informed slave-owners that they might retain enslaved persons provided those individuals did not complain. By 1890, child slavery had become widespread in towns such as Accra. According to the local campaigners, it was even sanctioned by the colonial governor. This led to some Africans uniting to establish a network to oppose it.
The Niger Delta region of Nigeria had a similar experience. The colonial administration enacted the Native House Rule Ordinance to counteract the effects of the Slave-Dealing Proclamation of 1901 which criminalised slave dealing with a penalty of seven years’ imprisonment for offenders. The Native House Rule Ordinance required every African to belong to a “House” under a designated head. It went on to criminalise any person who attempted to leave their “House”. In the Niger Delta kingdoms such as Bonny, Kalabari and Okrika, the word “House” never referred to a single dwelling. Rather, it denoted a self-perpetuating, named corporation of relatives, dependants and slaves under a chief, which owned property and spoke with one voice. By the 1900s, “Houses” had become the primary units through which slave ownership was organised.
Therefore, the Native House Rule Ordinance compelled enslaved people in Houses to remain with their masters. The masters were empowered to use colonial authority to discipline them. District commissioners executed arrest warrants against runaways. In exchange, the House heads and local chiefs supplied the colonial administration with unpaid labour for public works.
African campaigners in Accra and Lagos organised to challenge what they perceived as the British colonial state’s support for slavery.
Fearon: an undercover abolitionist in Accra
Francis Fearon was an educated African, active in the Accra scene during the second half of the 19th century. He was highly literate and part of elite circles. He was closely associated with the journalist Edmund Bannerman. He regularly wrote to local newspapers, often expressing concerns about racism against Black people and moral decay.
On 24 June 1890, Fearon sent a 63-page letter, with ten appendices, to the Aborigines’ Protection Society in London. That dossier would form the basis of several further communications. He alleged that child trafficking continued.
As evidence, he transcribed the confidential court register of Accra and claimed that Governor W. B. Griffith had instructed convicted slave-owners to recover their “property”.
Fearon’s tactics were audacious. He remained anonymous, relied on court clerks for documents, and supplied the Aborigines’ Protection Society with evidence. He pleaded with the society to investigate the colonial administration in the Gold Coast.
Although the society publicised the scandal, subsequent narratives quietly effaced the African source.
Lagos elites organise – and name the problem
Like Fearon, Nigerian campaigners also wrote to the Anti-Slavery and Aborigines’ Protection Society. They denounced the colonial government in Nigeria for promoting slavery, but they did not remain anonymous.
By this time, the Native House Rule Ordinance had prompted some enslaved people to flee the districts in which it was enforced. They sought refuge in Lagos. Through these arrivals, Lagosian elites learned of the ordinance. They unleashed a vigorous campaign against the colonial state.
The principal figures in this movement included Christopher Sapara Williams, a barrister, and James Bright Davies, editor of The Nigerian Times. Others included politician Herbert Macaulay, Herbert Pearse, a prominent merchant, Bishop James Johnson and the Reverend Mojola Agbebi. Unlike Fearon’s lone-wolf strategy, they mounted a coordinated assault on the colonial administration. They drafted petitions, briefed sympathetic European organisations, and inundated local newspapers with commentary.
Their arguments blended humanitarian indignation with constitutional acumen. They insisted that the ordinance contravened both British liberal ideals and African custom.
After years of pressure the law was amended and then quietly repealed in 1914.
Why these stories matter now
Contemporary scholarship on abolition is gradually shifting from asking “what Britain did for Africa” to examining the role Africans played in ending slavery.
Many African abolitionists who fought and lost their lives in the struggle against slavery have long gone unacknowledged. This is beginning to change.
The two articles discussed here highlight the creativity of Africans who, decades before radio or civil-rights NGOs, used transatlantic information circuits. They exposed colonial governments that continued to rely on forced-labour economies long after slavery was supposed to have ended.
They remind us that grassroots documentation can overturn official narratives. Evidence-based advocacy, coalition-building, and the strategic use of global media remain potent instruments.
Research for these articles was funded by the European Research Council under the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme (Grant Agreement No. 885418).
If you were to walk through the corridors of some of the world’s leading cricket schools, you might hear the crack of leather on willow long before the bell for the end of the day rings.
Across the cricketing world, elite schools have served as key feeder systems to national teams for decades. They provide young players with superior training facilities, high-level coaching and competitive playing opportunities.
This tradition has served as cricket’s most dependable talent pipeline. But is it a strength or a symptom of exclusion?
My recent study examined the school backgrounds of 1,080 elite men’s cricketers across eight countries over a 30-year period. It uncovered telling patterns.
Top elite cricket countries such as South Africa, England and Australia continue to draw heavily from private education systems. In these nations, cricket success seems almost tied to one’s school uniform.
I argue that if cricket boards want to promote equity and competitiveness, they will need to broaden the talent search by investing in grassroots cricket infrastructure in under-resourced areas.
For cricket to be a sport that anyone with talent can succeed in, there will need to be more school leagues and entry-level tournaments as well as targeted investment in community-based hubs and non-elite school zones.
Findings
South Africa is a case in point. My previous study in 2020 outlined that more than half of its national players at One-Day International (ODI) World Cups came from boys-only schools (mostly private).
These schools are often well-resourced, with turf wickets, expert coaches and an embedded culture of competition. Unsurprisingly, the same schools tend to produce a high number of national team batters, as they offer longer game formats and better playing surfaces. Cricket’s colonial origins have influenced the structure and culture of school cricket being tied to a form of privilege.
In Australia and England, the story is not very different. Despite their efforts to diversify player sourcing, private schools still dominate. Even in cricketing nations that celebrate working-class grit, such as Australia, private school players continue to shape elite squads.
The statistics say as much; for example: about 44% of Australian Ashes test series players since 2010 attended private schools, and for England, the figure is 45%. That’s not grassroots, it could be regarded as gated turf…
Yet not all countries follow this route. The West Indies, Pakistan and Sri Lanka reflect very different models. Club cricket, informal play and community academies provide their players with opportunities to rise. These countries have lower reliance on private schools. Some of their finest players emerged from modest public schooling or neighbourhood cricketing networks.
India provides an interesting hybrid. Although elite schools such as St. Xavier’s and Modern School contribute players, most national stars emerge from public institutions or small-town academies. The explosion of the Indian Premier League since 2008 has also democratised access, pulling in talent from previously overlooked and underdeveloped cities.
In these regions, scouting is based on potential, not privilege.
So why does this matter?
At first glance, elite schools producing elite cricketers might appear logical. These institutions have the resources to nurture talent. But scratch beneath the surface and troubling questions appear.
Are national teams truly reflecting their countries? Or are they simply echo chambers of social advantage?
In South Africa, almost every Black African cricketer to represent the country has come through a private school (often on scholarship). That suggests that talent without access remains potentially invisible. It also places unfair pressure on the few who make it through, as if they carry the hopes of entire communities.
I found that in England, some county systems have started integrating players from state schools, but progress is slow. In New Zealand, where cricket is less centralised around private institutions, regional hubs and public schools have had more success in spreading opportunities. However, even there, Māori and Pasifika players remain underrepresented in elite squads.
Four steps that can be taken
1. One solution lies in recognising that schools don’t have a monopoly on talent. Cricket boards must increase investment in grassroots infrastructure, particularly in under-resourced areas. Setting up community hubs, supporting school-club partnerships and more regional competitions could discover hidden talent.
2. Another step is to improve the visibility and reach of scouting networks. Too often, selection favours players from known institutions. By diversifying trial formats and leveraging technology (such as video submissions or performance-tracking apps), selectors can widen their net. It’s already happening in India, where IPL scouts visit the most unlikely of places.
3. Coaching is another stumbling block. In many countries, high-level coaches are clustered in elite schools. National boards should consider optimising salaries as well as rotating certified coaches into public schools and regional academies. They should also ensure coaches are developed to be equipped to work with diverse learners and conditions.
4. Technology offers other exciting possibilities too. Virtual simulations, motion tracking and AI-assisted video reviews are now common in high-performance centres. Making simplified versions available to lower-income schools could level the playing field. Imagine a township bowler in South Africa learning to analyse their technique using only a smartphone and a free app?
Fairness in sport
The conversation about schools and cricket is not just about numbers or stats. It is about fairness. Sport should be the great leveller, not another mechanism of exclusion. If cricket is to thrive, it needs to look beyond scoreboards and trophies. It must ask who gets to play and who never gets seen?
A batter from a village school in India, a wicket-keeper from a government school in Sri Lanka or a fast bowler in a South African township; each deserves the chance to be part of the national story. Cricket boards, policymakers and educators must work together to make that possible.
The game will only grow when it welcomes players from all walks of life. That requires more than scholarships. It requires a reset of how we think about talent. Because the next cricket superstar may not wear a crest on their blazer. They may wear resilience on their sleeve.
Habib Noorbhai does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Source: The Conversation – UK – By John Kenneth Paranada, Curator of Art and Climate Change, University of East Anglia
Water is at the heart of the disruption wrought by climate change. The seas, once seen as vast and stable, are now unpredictable and restless.
That tidy, looping diagram of the water cycle once pinned up in primary school classrooms – clouds, rivers, evaporation and rain – now reads more like a fragmented recollection than a dependable process. Human impact has cracked that once-stable loop wide open.
Sea levels inch upward year on year. Droughts grow more prolonged and severe. Rainfall becomes erratic and violent. What was once spoken of in future tense is now present and pressing.
In Norfolk, land and sea have long coexisted in an uneasy truce. Here, the threat of sea level rise is not a speculative concern, it is data-backed, visible and accelerating.
According to research from the Tyndall Centre for Climate Change Research, vast swathes of Norfolk risk being submerged by rising seas if global temperatures rise by even two degrees celsius. It is one of the most at-risk areas in the UK.
Against this backdrop comes the Sainsbury Centre’s exhibition, A World of Water (part of the Can the Seas Survive Us? season). In the show, water is explored as subject, medium and metaphor. It is both agent and witness, shaping civilisations, sustaining life, and now challenging our ability to coexist with it.
Curated through an interdisciplinary lens, the exhibition was shaped by deep collaboration with scientists, artists, ecologists, activists and coastal communities. Rooted in lived experience, from a two-day walk along the Wherry Man’s Way to a 36-hour sail aboard a 1921 fishing smack, the curatorial process traced fragile coastlines and the North Sea’s rapid transformation into an industrial nexus of energy infrastructures.
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The curatorial approach to the show embraces the multifaceted nature of water by weaving together maritime history, Indigenous knowledge and contemporary works rooted in the artists’ experiences.
Many of the participating artists hail from communities already wrestling with rising tides and the realities of climate disruption. Their contributions form three thematic currents: Mudplume, Water Water Everywhere and In a State of Flux.
These overlapping threads investigate how water connects, nourishes and imperils. Rather than positioning the sea as a line of division, the exhibition reframes it as a living, connective tissue linking culture, history and ecology.
A curatorial geomorphology of the sea
Guidance for the exhibition’s conceptual framework came, fittingly, from water itself. Its mutable nature – solid, liquid, vapour – shaped the rhythm of the curatorial process. Rather than impose a rigid thesis, the exhibition offers an ever-shifting constellation of perspectives.
The exhibition journey begins with sound. Visitors are welcomed by a low murmur, tides lapping, water dripping, echoing through the museum entrance. This leads to Spiral Fosset (2024), a sculptural work by the Dutch collective De Onkruidenier.
Mirroring the central staircase of the museum, the piece suggests the brackish confluence where fresh and saltwater mingle. From here, the viewer descends into the lower galleries, reimagined as an estuary.
Within the lower galleries, artworks unfold like coastal mudflats at low tide. Seventeenth-century Dutch seascapes hang alongside photographs, video works and sculptures made from plastic waste. Sands from the beaches of Cromer, Happisburgh and Cley are featured, anchoring the exhibition in local terrain.
East Anglia’s centuries-old ties with the Low Countries form a steady through line. Hendrick van Anthonissen’s View of Scheveningen Sands (1641) shares space with works by Norwich School masters such as John Sell Cotman, John Crome and Robert Ladbrooke.
This approach privileges resonance over chronology. The exhibition avoids a linear march through time in favour of prioritising association, connection and drift. For instance, Shore Compass by Olafur Eliasson (2019) sits in subtle dialogue with Jodocus Hondius’s 1589 Drake Map an early cartographic rendering of Sir Francis Drake’s circumnavigation of the world.
Created during the height of European maritime expansion and colonialism, the map illustrates the interplay between empire, navigation and power. Time, like tide, is allowed to meander.
The exhibition adopts what might be called a “curatorial geomorphology”: a way of curating that draws on the sculpting force of water. In the natural sciences, geomorphology examines how landscapes are formed and reshaped by flowing water, storms and tides, while hydrology traces water’s movement through the environment.
This curatorial approach translates those scientific ideas into a cultural and creative practice. Like a river, it flows through histories, stories and meanings. What unfolds is a tidal narrative, an estuary of thought where time loosens, the present deepens and new futures begin to surface.
Visitors to A World of Water can expect something different from a traditional gallery experience. It invites you to think with the seas, to tune into their rhythms, tensions and secret lives.
As you wander through the galleries, you enter a realm shaped by flux, expect to feel and reimagine a world where land, water and life move as one. And perhaps, by moving as water does, we may begin to sense an answer to the question: Can the Seas Survive Us? Not in certainty, but through our collective and individual actions toward a more regenerative and sustainable future.
A World of Water is at the Sainsbury Centre Norwich until August 3. It’s part of a six-month season of interlinked exhibitions and events that explore the question: “Can the seas survive us?”
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John Kenneth Paranada received funding from the John Ellerman Foundation; the Art Fund’s Jonathan Ruffer Curatorial Grant; the Association of Art Museum Curators’ EPIC Curatorial Fellowship Award; the Mondriaan Fund’s International Art Presentation Grant; the Kingdom of the Netherlands’ Cultural Diplomacy Grant; and Arts Council England’s National Lottery Fund for the project A World of Water: Can the Seas Survive Us? at the Sainsbury Centre.
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