This year is the 250th anniversary of Jane Austen’s birth and she hasn’t aged a bit as the cultural touchstone of classy romance. Her Pride and Prejudice anti-hero, Mr Darcy, perennially pops up in his breeches in Instagram memes, while Regency feminist, Elizabeth Bennet has been brought to life by a host of contemporary actors.
Along with new screen versions of Austen’s Sense and Sensibility (starring Daisy Edgar-Jones) and a Netflix version of P & P, there have been adaptations of her classics Persuasion, Emma, Northanger Abbey, and Mansfield Park. And, there are numerous biographies and biopics including a TV drama about Jane’s sister, Cassandra, who burnt most of Jane’s letters.
Review: The Novel Life of Jane Austen: A Graphic Biography –
Janine Barchas, Isabel Greenberg (Hachette)
Now, there is also a graphic biography: The Novel Life of Jane Austen, written by Janine Barchas and illustrated by Isabel Greenberg.
Together, they have co-created a storyboard for the domestic life that framed Austen’s writing, encompassing her closeness to both Cassandra and her brother Frank, who joined the navy and liked to sew.
Unlike a “cradle to grave” biography, Barchas begins with a teenage Jane in London with Frank touring an exhibition about Shakespeare and his work. We then follow her, in illustrative comic boxes and speech bubbles, through her publishing rejections, her breakthrough debut Sense and Sensibility, and her rise to become one of most beloved writers in the canon of English literature.
The book ends beyond the grave, flashing forward to the present, in a scene where contemporary fans – Janeites – visit Jane Austen’s House, the cottage in Hampshire where Austen lived when she revised and published her six novels.
It’s also a sign of subtle structural polish. Now Jane Austen is as deserving of her own gallery as Shakespeare was when we first met Jane as a young, unpublished author.
Thinking in pink
Barchas – an “Austenite”, as Austen scholars are called – is the author of The Lost Books of Jane Austen, a study of the mass market editions of Austen’s work. (The Novel Life touches on Austen’s posthumous appeal with a scene where readers buy Austen books for one shilling at a railway station after her death, aged 41.)
Barchas is the co-creator of the interactive digital exhibition, What Jane Saw, which invites us to visit two art exhibitions witnessed by Jane Austen: the Sir Joshua Reynolds retrospective in 1813 or the Shakespeare Gallery as it looked in 1796. The Novel Life, however, is a more definitive life story. It’s also best read in print (although it is available as an e-book) to appreciate Greenberg’s illustrations and graphic format.
The Novel Life is a gentler, less dramatic style than traditional comics with six-pack superheroes or Japanese manga, similar to Greenberg’s previous literary graphic biography foray, Glass Town, about the Bronte sisters.
For the Novel Life, Greenberg has drawn a world in which Austen is whimsical, with expressive eyes looming under her signature bangs. She and her sister Cassandra appear in bright yellow or blue empire line dresses.
Most scenes are illustrated in a muted palette of yellow, blue and grey. This palette, Barchas reflects in the preface, represents “the relative quiet of her (Austen’s) life”.
When Jane is thinking or writing however, the pages transform into vivid shades of pink to symbolise her imagination and inspiration. In these pages, The Novel Life is at its best, showing graphic biography can be both captivating and deceptively sophisticated.
Archival nods
Is a graphic biography really a biography in the conventional understanding of the genre? It can upset the perceived rules. Anticipating this, in the preface, Barchas reminds us:
Any biography of Austen, and there are many, exists at the intersection of speculation and research.
This book is at this intersection. While the dialogue is largely invented, it is grounded in Barchas’ expertise and there is a glossary of sources at the end.
Throughout, there are also nods to the archive. Barchas begins with a scene of Jane in 1796 writing a letter to Cassandra at a desk while staying in London – one of the few not burnt.
A speech bubble quotes an extract from it:
Here I am once more in this scene of dissipation and vice, and I begin already to find my morals corrupted.
There are also Post-it style notes, separate to the bubbles, offering extra biographical context for readers less familiar with the intricacies of Austen’s story. A key scene happens when Jane, 22, receives her first rejection by a publisher for her manuscript “First Impressions” and is comforted by the loyal Cassandra. The note reads:
Jane would carry out more than a decade and a half of revisions before she dared to offer the manuscript to another publisher, who released it in 1813 as Pride and Prejudice.
Because of their visual casualness, importantly the notes don’t interfere with the intimate, engaging tone of the story.
‘Easter eggs’
For Austen’s committed “Janeite” fan base, Barchas promises “cheeky easter eggs” in the preface. Janeites can delight in well-quoted lines from the novels that appear as dialogue or a character’s thoughts.
Look, for instance, for Jane reading at a dinner party from P & P: “It’s a truth universally acknowledged […]” and “she is tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt me […]”.
It’s a truth universally acknowledged too that graphic biography can be confused with the graphic novel, now the third most popular literary genre in sales after general fiction and romance.
But, dear reader, there’s a tradition of life writing in the medium. The Pulitzer Prize winning graphic biography/memoir, The Complete Maus, told Art Spiegelman’s father’s story of the Holocaust to his son, (Art) who struggled to understand his father. Maus portrayed Jewish people anthropomorphically as mice and Nazis as cats. It was described by The New Yorker “as the first masterpiece of comic book history”.
Other high points in graphic biography include Peter Bagge’s Woman Rebel, the story of birth control campaigner Margaret Sanger, published in 2013.
Not everyone will appreciate a work diverging so dramatically from the expectations of a traditional biography. And those who will most appreciate or scrutinise The Novel Life are yes, the Janeites and Austenites.
Regardless, Austen comes to graphic life in the mind and hands of Barchas and Greenberg. More generally, for those of us who like our biographies in vivid colour – literally – and enjoy experiments in nonfiction storytelling, it’s a delightful reading experience, just like Jane Austen.
Kerrie Davies 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 July 18, 2025.
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‘Don’t tell me!’ Why some people love spoilers – and others will run a mile Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Anjum Naweed, Professor of Human Factors, CQUniversity Australia DreamBig/Shutterstock, The Conversation This article contains spoilers! I once leapt out of a train carriage because two strangers were loudly discussing the ending of the last Harry Potter book. Okay – I didn’t leap, but I did plug my
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Australian law is clear: criticism of Israel does not breach the Racial Discrimination Act Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Bill Swannie, Senior Lecturer, Thomas More Law School, Australian Catholic University Earlier this month, the Federal Court found controversial Muslim cleric Wissam Haddad breached the Racial Discrimination Act. Justice Angus Stewart ruled a series of speeches Haddad posted online were “fundamentally racist and antisemitic [and] profoundly offensive”
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AI is now part of our world. Uni graduates should know how to use it responsibly Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Rachel Fitzgerald, Associate Professor and Deputy Associate Dean (Academic), Faculty of Business, Economics and Law, The University of Queensland MTStock Studio/ Getty Images Artificial intelligence is rapidly becoming an everyday part of lives. Many of us use it without even realising, whether it be writing emails, finding
Susi Newborn among activists featured in Pacific ‘nuclear free heroes’ video Pacific Media Watch Greenpeace pioneer and activist Susi Newborn is among the “nuclear free heroes” featured in a video tribute premiered this week in an exhibition dedicated to a nuclear-free Pacific. The week-long exhibition at Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland’s Ellen Melville Centre, titled “Legends of the Pacific: Stories of a Nuclear-Free Moana 1975-1995,” closes tomorrow afternoon.
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Rainbow Warrior bombing by French secret agents remembered 40 years on SPECIAL REPORT: By Te Aniwaniwa Paterson of Te Ao Māori News Forty years ago today, French secret agents bombed the Greenpeace campaign flagship Rainbow Warrior in an attempt to stop the environmental organisation’s protest against nuclear testing at Moruroa Atoll in Mā’ohi Nui. People gathered on board Rainbow Warrior III to remember photographer Fernando Pereira,
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Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Mathieu Duval, Adjunct Senior Researcher at Griffith University and La Trobe University, and Ramón y Cajal (Senior) Research Fellow, Centro Nacional de Investigación sobre la Evolución Humana (CENIEH)
Fossils are invaluable archives of the past. They preserve details about living things from a few thousand to hundreds of millions of years ago.
Studying fossils can help us understand the evolution of species over time, and glimpse snapshots of past environments and climates. Fossils can also reveal the diets or migration patterns of long-gone species – including our own ancestors.
But when living things turn to rock, discerning those details is no easy feat. One common technique for studying fossils is micro-computerised tomography or micro-CT. It’s been used to find the earliest evidence of bone cancer in humans, to study brain imprints and inner ears in early hominins, and to study the teeth of the oldest human modern remains outside Africa, among many other examples.
However, our new study, published today in Radiocarbon, shows that despite being widely regarded as non-destructive, micro-CT may actually affect fossil preservation and erase some crucial information held inside.
Preserving precious specimens
Fossils are rare and fragile by nature. Scientists are constantly evaluating how to balance their impact on fossils with the need to study them.
When palaeontologists and palaeoanthropologists (who work on human fossils) analyse fossils, they want to minimise any potential damage. We want to preserve fossils for future generations as much as possible – and technology can be a huge help here.
Micro-CT works like the medical CT scans doctors use to peek inside the human body. However, it does so at a much smaller scale and at a greater resolution.
This is perfect for studying small objects such as fossils. With micro-CT, scientists can take high-resolution 3D images and access the inner structure of fossils without the need to cut them open.
These scans also allow for virtual copies of the fossils, which other scientists can then access from anywhere in the world. This significantly reduces the risk of damage, since the scanned fossils can safely remain in a museum collection, for example.
Micro-CT is popular and routinely used. The scientific community widely regards it as “non-destructive” because it doesn’t cause any visual damage – but it could still affect the fossil.
Jaw bone of the human fossil species Homo antecessor from Spain. Left: micro-CT scan with a cutting plane to visualise the inner structures, bone and teeth; right: 3D reconstruction based on the high-resolution micro-CT images. Laura Martín-Francés
How does micro-CT imaging work?
Micro-CT scanning uses X-rays and computer software to produce high-resolution images and reconstruct the fossil specimens in detail. Typically, palaeontologists use commercial scanners for this, but more advanced investigations may use powerful X-ray beams generated at a synchrotron.
The X-rays go through the specimen and are captured by a detector on the other end. This allows for a very fine-grained understanding of the matter they’ve passed through – especially density, which then provides clues about the shape of the internal structures, the composition of the tissues, or any contamination.
The scan produces a succession of 2D images from all angles. Computer software is then used to “clean up” these high-resolution images and assemble them into a 3D shape – a virtual copy of the fossil and its inner structures.
Example of micro-CT results on a hominin fossil known as Little Foot, from southern Africa.
But X-rays are not harmless
X-rays are a type of ionising radiation. This means they have a high level of energy and can break electrons away from atoms (this is called ionisation).
However, despite what we know about the impact of X-rays on living cells, the potential impact of X-rays on fossils through micro-CT imaging has never been deeply investigated.
What did our study find?
Using standard settings on a typical micro-CT scanner, we scanned several modern and fossil bones and teeth from animals. We also measured their collagen content before and after scanning.
Collagen is useful for many analytical purposes, such as finding out the age of the fossils using radiocarbon dating, or for stable isotope analysis – a method used to infer the diet of the extinct species, for example. The collagen content in fossils is usually much lower than in modern specimens because it slowly breaks down over time.
After comparing our measurements with unscanned samples taken from the same specimens, we found two things.
First, the radiocarbon age remained unchanged. In other words, micro-CT scanning doesn’t affect radiocarbon dating. That’s the good news.
The bad news is that we did observe a significant decrease in the amount of collagen present. In other words, the micro-CT scanned samples had about 35% less collagen than the samples before scanning.
This shows micro-CT imaging has a non-negligible impact on fossils that contain collagen traces. While this was to be expected, the impact hasn’t been experimentally confirmed before.
It’s possible some fossil samples won’t have enough collagen left after micro-CT scanning. This would make them unsuitable for a range of analytical techniques, including radiocarbon dating.
What now?
In a previous study, we showed micro-CT can artificially “age” fossils later dated with a method called electron spin resonance. It’s commonly used to date fossils older than 50,000 years – beyond what the radiocarbon method can discern.
This previous study and our new work show that micro-CT scanning may significantly and irreversibly change the fossil and the information it holds.
Despite causing no visible damage to the fossil, we argue that in this context the technique should no longer be regarded as non-destructive.
Micro-CT imaging is highly valuable in palaeontology and palaeoanthropology, no doubt about that. But our results suggest it should be used sparingly to minimise how much fossils are exposed to X-rays. There are guidelines scientists can use to minimise damage. Freely sharing data to avoid repeated scans of the same specimen will be helpful, too.
Mathieu Duval receives funding from the Spanish State Research Agency (Agencia Estatal de Investigación). He is currently the recipient of a Ramón y Cajal fellowship (RYC2018-025221-I) funded by MCIN/AEI/10.13039/501100011033 and by ‘‘ESF Investing in your future”. This work is also part of Spanish Grant PID2021-123092NB-C22 funded by MCIN/AEI/10.13039/501100011033/FEDER, UE, and by ‘‘ERDF A way of making Europe”.
Laura Martín-Francés receives funding from Marie Sklodowska-Curie Actions of the EU Ninth programme (2021-2027) under the HORIZON-MSCA-2021-PF-01-Project: 101060482.
I once leapt out of a train carriage because two strangers were loudly discussing the ending of the last Harry Potter book. Okay – I didn’t leap, but I did plug my ears and flee to another carriage.
Recently, I found myself in a similar predicament, trapped on a bus, entirely at the mercy of two passengers dissecting the Severance season two finale.
But not everyone shares my spoiler anxiety. I have friends who flip to the last page of a book before they’ve read the first one, or who look up the ending before hitting play. According to them, they simply need to know.
So why do some of us crave surprise and suspense, while others find comfort in instant resolution?
What’s in a spoiler?
Spoilers have become a cultural flashpoint in the age of streaming, social media and shared fandoms.
Researchers define “spoiler” as undesired information about how a narrative’s arc will conclude. I often hear “spoilers!” interjected mid-sentence, a desperate protest to protect narrative ignorance.
Hitchcock’s twist-heavy Psycho elevated spoiler sensitivity. Its release came with an anti-spoilers policy including strict viewing times, lobby warnings recorded by the auteur himself, and even real policemen urging “total enjoyment”. A bold ad campaign implored audiences against “cheating yourselves”.
The twists were fiercely protected.
Even the Star Wars cast didn’t know Darth Vader’s paternity twist until premiere night. Avenger’s Endgame filmed multiple endings and used fake scripting to mislead its stars. And Andrew Garfield flat-out lied about his return to Spider-Man: No Way Home – a performance worthy of an Oscar – all for the sake of fan surprise and enjoyment.
But do spoilers actually ruin the fun, or just shift how we experience it?
The satisfaction of a good ending
In 2014, a Dutch study found that viewers of unspoiled stories experienced greater emotional arousal and enjoyment. Spoilers may complete our “mental models” of the plot, making us less driven to engage, process events, or savour the unfolding story.
But we are also likely to overestimate the negative effect of a spoiler on our enjoyment. In 2016, a series of studies involving short stories, mystery fiction and films found that spoiled participants still reported high levels of enjoyment – because once we’re immersed, emotional connection tends to eclipse what we already know.
But suspense and enjoyment are complex bedfellows.
American media psychology trailblazer Dolf Zillmann said that suspense builds tension and excitement, but we only enjoy that tension once the ending lands well.
The thrill isn’t fun while we’re hanging in uncertainty – it’s the satisfying resolution that retroactively makes it feel good.
That could be why we scramble for an “ending explained” when a film or show drops the ball on closure. We’re trying to resolve uncertainty and settle our emotions.
Spoilers can also take the pressure off. A 2009 study of Lost fans found those who looked up how an episode would end actually enjoyed it more. The researchers found it reduced cognitive pressure, and gave them more room to reflect and soak in the story.
Spoilers put the audience back in the driver’s seat – even if filmmakers would rather keep hold of the wheel. People may seek spoilers out of curiosity or impatience, but sometimes it’s a quiet rebellion: a way to push back against the control creators hold over when and how things unfold.
That’s why spoilers are fertile ground for power dynamics. Ethicists even liken being spoiled to kind of moral trespass: how dare someone else make that decision for me?!
But whether you avoid spoilers or seek them out, the motive is often the same: a need to feel in control.
Shaping your emotions
Spoiler avoiders crave affect: they want emotional transportation.
When suspense is part of the pleasure, control means choosing when and how that knowledge lands. There’s a mental challenge to be had in riding the story as it unfolds, and a joy in seeing it click into place.
That’s why people get protective, and even chatter about long-aired shows can spark outrage. It’s an attempt to police the commentary and preserve the experience for those still waiting to be transported.
Spoiler seekers want control too, just a different kind. They’re not avoiding emotion, they’re just managing it. A spoiler affords control over our negative emotions, but also softens the blow, and inoculates us against anxiety.
Psychologists dub this a “non-cognitive desensitisation strategy” to manage surprise, a kind of “emotional spoiler shield” to protect our attachments to shows and characters, and remind us that TV, film and book narratives are not real when storylines hit close to home.
Knowing what happens turns into a subtle form of self-regulation.
So, what did I do when Severance spoilers floated by? Did I get off the bus? Nope, I stayed put and faced the beast. As I tried to make sense of the unfamiliar plot points (The macrodata means what? Mark stays where?), I found the unexpected chance to dive deeper.
Maybe surprise is not the sum of what makes something entertaining and worth engaging with. Spoiler alert! It’s good to have an end to journey towards, but it’s the journey that matters, in the end.
Anjum Naweed 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 – Global Perspectives – By Rachel Fitzgerald, Associate Professor and Deputy Associate Dean (Academic), Faculty of Business, Economics and Law, The University of Queensland
Artificial intelligence is rapidly becoming an everyday part of lives. Many of us use it without even realising, whether it be writing emails, finding a new TV show or managing smart devices in our homes.
But apart from a handful of computing-focused and other STEM programs, most Australian university students do not receive formal tuition in how to use AI critically, ethically or responsibly.
Here’s why this is a problem and what we can do instead.
But this does not teach students how these tools work or what responsible use involves.
Using AI is not as simple as typing questions into a chat function. There are widely recognised ethical issues around its use including bias and misinformation. Understanding these is essential for students to use AI responsibly in their working lives.
So all students should graduate with a basic understanding of AI, its limitations, the role of human judgement and what responsible use looks like in their particular field.
We need students to be aware of bias in AI systems. This includes how their own biases could shape how they use the AI (the questions they ask and how they interpret its output), alongside an understanding of the broader ethical implications of AI use.
For example, does the data and the AI tool protect people’s privacy? Has the AI made a mistake? And if so, whose responsibility is that?
What about AI ethics?
The technical side of AI is covered in many STEM degrees. These degrees, along with philosophy and psychology disciplines, may also examine ethical questions around AI. But these issues are not a part of mainstream university education.
This is a concern. When future lawyers use predictive AI to draft contracts, or business graduates use AI for hiring or marketing, they will need skills in ethical reasoning.
Ethical issues in these scenarios could include unfair bias, like AI recommending candidates based on gender or race. It could include issues relating to a lack of transparency, such as not knowing how an AI system made a legal decision. Students need to be able to spot and question these risks before they cause harm.
In healthcare, AI tools are already supporting diagnosis, patient triage and treatment decisions.
For example, if a teacher relies on AI carelessly to draft a lesson plan, students might learn a version of history that is biased or just plain wrong. A lawyer who over-relies on AI could submit a flawed court document, putting their client’s case at risk.
How can we do this?
There are international examples we can follow. The University of Texas at Austin and University of Edinburgh both offer programs in ethics and AI. However, both of these are currently targeted at graduate students. The University of Texas program is focused on teaching STEM students about AI ethics, whereas the University of Edinburgh’s program has a broader, interdiscplinary focus.
Implementing AI ethics in Australian universities will require thoughtful curriculum reform. That means building interdisciplinary teaching teams that combine expertise from technology, law, ethics and the social sciences. It also means thinking seriously about how we engage students with this content through core modules, graduate capabilities or even mandatory training.
It will also require investment in academic staff development and new teaching resources that make these concepts accessible and relevant to different disciplines.
Government support is essential. Targeted grants, clear national policy direction, and nationally shared teaching resources could accelerate the shift. Policymakers could consider positioning universities as “ethical AI hubs”. This aligns with the government-commissioned 2024 Australian University Accord report, which called for building capacity to meet the demands of the digital era.
Today’s students are tomorrow’s decision-makers. If they don’t understand the risks of AI and its potential for error, bias or threats to privacy, we will all bear the consequences. Universities have a public responsibility to ensure graduates know how to use AI responsibly and understand why their choices matter.
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.
In the thrilling finale of the TV series The Americans, set during the Reagan administration, deep-cover KGB operatives Philip and Elizabeth Jennings are faced with a difficult decision. Posing as an ordinary American married couple, for decades they have raised children, filed tax returns and slipped effortlessly into the rhythms and routines of everyday suburban existence in Washington, D.C.
All the while, they’ve been spying – gathering intelligence and surreptitiously feeding it to their communist masters in Soviet Moscow. Now, with the FBI closing in and their cover on the brink of collapse, they must decide whether to stay and face arrest or flee the country they’ve come to call home. There’s also their teenage children to consider.
The story seemed too incredible to be true – but in fact it was based in part on Donald Heathfield and Ann Foley, subsequently outed as Andrei Bezrukov and Elena Vavilova, a Russian couple who had spent more than 20 years masquerading as Canadians. At the time of their unmasking, they were living quietly in the United States with Tim and Alex, their two sons.
Review: The Illegals: Russia’s Most Audacious Spies and the Plot to Infiltrate the West – Shaun Walker (Profile)
A new book, The Illegals, tells of a network of Russian agents operating across the US, during the late 20th and early 21st centuries – including Bezrukov and Vavilova. It opens with their dramatic 2010 arrest, part of ten Russian spies (mostly illegals like them) detained by the FBI.
Author Shaun Walker, the Guardian’s central and eastern Europe correspondent, draws on declassified archival material and first-hand interviews. The result is an engrossing, eye-opening account of the secret world of the Soviet “illegals programme”: embedded spies who lived surreptitiously in the West without the safety blanket of diplomatic protection.
As Walker explains, “legals” were Russian operatives working under official cover – as diplomats or embassy staff, privy to diplomatic immunity. By contrast, “illegals” operated off the grid. They crept silently into Western countries under false identities, often stolen from the dead. This made them harder to detect, but left them far more vulnerable if exposed.
One of the most high-profile figures in the 2010 spy bust was Anna Chapman. Unlike many other illegals, Chapman didn’t even bother to disguise her Russian identity. Instead, as Walker recounts, she entered America using a British passport – acquired through a brief marriage to a UK citizen – and worked as a New York real estate broker.
Her photogenic looks and media-friendly persona made her the public face of the scandal. After being deported, Chapman reinvented herself as a television host, runway model and pro-Kremlin influencer.
The real Americans
Walker outlines how Bezrukov and Vavilova first met in the early 1980s, as history students in Siberia. There, KGB “spotters” identified them for potential recruitment. Later, he adds,
they progressed to an arduous training programme lasting several years, moulding their language, mannerisms and identities into those of an ordinary couple. They left the Soviet Union separately in 1987, staged a meeting in Canada, and began a relationship as if they had just met.
Having married under their assumed names, Andrei and Elena adopted the habits and customs of an ordinary middle-class life. After the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, the couple were cut off from Moscow, but by the end of the decade they were reactivated by the SVR, Russia’s new foreign intelligence agency. Around this time, Andrei won a place at Harvard’s Kennedy School, allowing the family to move to Massachusetts and integrate further into American society.
As Andrei networked in academic and policy circles, Elena maintained the illusion of domestic normality, fashioning herself as a doting “soccer mom”, raising the kids and keeping house. Meanwhile, she was secretly decoding encrypted radio messages in the back room.
This went on for years. Then, one day, an unexpected knock on the door as they celebrated their son Tim’s 20th birthday brought the charade crashing down. FBI agents burst in, handcuffed the couple in front of their sons and marched them out into the street.
Soon after their arrest, Andrei and Elena were deported to Russia in a high-profile spy swap. They were awarded state honours by Vladimir Putin and briefly became minor celebrities in Moscow. Their sons, both born in Canada, were left reeling.
In 2016, Walker tracked the sons down for a piece he was writing for The Guardian: they were in the process of suing the Canadian government to have their citizenship reinstated, having been stripped of it when everything kicked off. In 2019, a court ruled Tim and Alex (who was 16 when the FBI arrested his parents) could keep their citizenship. Both insisted they had known nothing about their parents’ espionage work.
Alex Valivov, son of Russian ‘illegal’ spies disguised as Americans, talked to the media after he won a court bid to keep his Canadian citizenship.
Putin ‘beside himself’
As Walker recounts, the raid had been coordinated by then-FBI director Robert Mueller. It had been timed to avoid derailing a carefully planned diplomatic summit.
In 2009, Barack Obama launched a high-profile “reset” of relations with Russia. Obama wanted to woo Dmitry Medvedev – a moderate political figurehead standing in for Putin, who remained the real power behind the scenes in Russia.
A planned summit in Washington intended to cement the spirit of renewed cooperation. But as the scale of Russia’s covert operation became apparent, the White House was faced with a dilemma: how to respond without jeopardising the reset.
According to Walker, Obama was irked by the whole situation. He quipped that it felt like something out of a John Le Carré novel. Eventually, a compromise was reached: the arrests would happen, but only after Medvedev’s visit, so as not to cause undue embarrassment.
Colonel Aleksandr Poteyev, deputy head of Directorate “S” of the SVR, was the man overseeing the illegals scheme. After the arrests were made, he quietly walked out of the agency headquarters in Yasenevo for the last time. He was the mole who had tipped off the Americans. From there, he made his way to Ukraine, where the CIA could safely extricate him to the US. On hearing the news, Putin was reportedly beside himself with rage, Walker writes.
Intrigued by this “twisted family story”, Walker started to look into the illegals venture in greater depth. He quickly realised “there was nothing quite like it in the history of espionage”. At times, various intelligence agencies had deployed operatives as foreign nationals, “but never with the scope or scale of the KGB programme”.
A century of dramatic, bloody history
The illegals were, in Walker’s reckoning, something uniquely Russian, rooted in the country’s complex historical experience. The more he read, the more he came to view the programme as a lens through which he could “tell a much bigger story, of the whole Soviet experiment and its ultimate failure, a century of dramatic and bloody history”.
To understand how the illegals project came about, Walker winds the clock all the way back to 1917, when the Bolsheviks seized power – and espionage became a cornerstone of the nascent Soviet state. He reminds us while Lenin and his comrades had won formal control of the nation, “they still faced the colossal task of implementing and retaining it across the vast Russian landmass”.
Lenin was sure that state institutions would eventually wither away, the evolving worker’s paradise rendering them meaningless. However, to achieve this happy end point, he believed an interim period of ruthless state violence was required.
The Cheka: precursor to the KGB
This helps to explain why he established the Cheka, a secret police force tasked with crushing counterrevolutionary activity and enforcing Bolshevik rule. At its head was Feliks Dzerzhinsky, a fanatical Polish ideologue who had spent years in Siberian exile. Far from a temporary measure, the Cheka “quickly grew to a huge fighting force that could be unleashed on political and class enemies”, Walker writes.
Feliks Dzierzynski was the head of the Cheka, the Russian secret police force that preceded the KGB. Wikimedia Commons
The Cheka was an important player in the Russian Civil War, which pitted Lenin’s Reds against the Whites – a loose alliance of pro-tsarist regiments and foreign mercenaries, often united by little more than their implacable hatred of Bolshevism. The situation on the ground was chaotic and unpredictable; both sides engaged in ruthless violence.
Here, in this blood-drenched crucible, the Bolsheviks honed their clandestine methods – konspiratsiya (subterfuge) – perfecting the use of disguises, false identities and underground communication. In areas where the Whites gained a territorial foothold, agents were ordered to stay behind and coordinate resistance, laying the groundwork for what would become the illegals programme.
When the Bolsheviks emerged victorious in 1921, the Cheka was not disbanded – but repurposed. The practice of planting operatives deep inside enemy lines survived the war and expanded in scope. Lenin’s idea of combining legal diplomatic work with illegal undercover infiltration became a defining feature of how the Soviet Union would run its intelligence services for the next 70 years.
Stalin’s secret police
Under Lenin’s successor, Joseph Stalin, the secret police was transformed into an all-encompassing instrument of surveillance, repression and domination.
Purges consumed the party. Ideological fervour curdled into show trials and murderous terror. And paranoia became an organising principle of Soviet political life. The demand for vigilance intensified – not just at home, where informants and denunciations became routine, but also abroad. Real and purported enemies were seen lurking in the democratic institutions of the West.
Ironies abound here. The very methods that helped to sustain the early Soviet state – secrecy, trickery, duplicity – soon became grounds for suspicion on Stalin’s watch. The generation of illegals trained and embedded during the 1920s and early 1930s were among those earmarked for liquidation, Walker writes. Stalin, ever wary of plots against him, came to view his own spies as potential traitors.
He ignored – or wilfully dismissed – much of the intelligence they had risked their lives to gather, often with disastrous consequences. When advance warnings of Operation Barbarossa, Hitler’s secret plan to betray Stalin and launch a massive invasion of the Soviet Union, landed on his desk in 1941, for instance, they were waved away as provocation or outright fabrication. In some cases, he had his spies tortured or shot. Loyalty was no protector against paranoia.
Dmitry Bystrolyotov was a legend in Soviet intelligence circles. Alchetron
Among the casualties was Dmitry Bystrolyotov, who Walker describes as “perhaps the most talented illegal in the history of the programme”. A truly chameleonic figure, Bystrolyotov was a dashing and multilingual agent whose exploits in Western Europe made him a legend in Soviet intelligence circles. “His speciality was the recruitment of agents who had access to diplomatic codes and ciphers,” the Russian scholar Emil Draitser attests, “and his modus operandi involved women”.
Through a series of painstakingly crafted affairs, Bystrolyotov gained access to confidential dispatches, internal memos and state secrets. His work offered Stalin a rare glimpse into the inner workings of Europe’s ruling elite. But when The Great Terror rolled around in 1937, none of it mattered. He was arrested, sentenced and dispatched to the Gulag, callously tossed aside by the system he had served with such distinction.
Walker emphasises:
the history of the illegals offers a neat reflection of the story of Russia itself. The early programme, with its soaring ambition, its obsession with subterfuge, and its disregard for the well-being of individuals, holds up a mirror to the fiery utopianism of the early Soviet Union.
Did the Cold War really end?
These were people expected to vanish into enemy territory, sacrifice their identifies and live double lives, all in service of a revolutionary vision. But by the time the Soviet Union spluttered to an ignominious halt in 1991, that dream had long since died.
As Walker shows, most of the operatives who followed in the footsteps of Bystrolyotov were not darkly romantic infiltrators scaling embassy walls or charming secrets out of countesses. They were “sleepers” – often efficient, occasionally incompetent – blending quietly into Western cities and suburbs, awaiting a call to action that, in many cases, never came. The glitz had given way to the grind.
The Americans ends with Phillip and Elizabeth, the couple based on Bezrukov and Vavilova, gazing out across the Moscow skyline. Two weary spies coming in from the cold, they have returned to a rapidly unravelling motherland that may not understand – let alone appreciate – the sacrifices they have made in the service of its ideology.
As Walker discovered, Berzukov, when he isn’t being paid handsomely by an oil company, now lectures in international relations at one of Russia’s most prestigious universities. Vavilova, fittingly enough, now writes spy fiction.
Yet in real life, the story doesn’t end quite there. Under Putin, a former KGB officer who cut his teeth in the culture of espionage, Russia’s intelligence services have returned to the illegals programme with a renewed sense of purpose (though stripped of the ideological zeal that once propelled it).
Walker is careful not to indulge in idle speculation, but he points to compelling evidence suggesting the illegals programme has evolved rather than vanished. High-profile attacks on UK soil – including the poisoning of form spy Sergei Skripal – suggest Russian intelligence agencies remain willing to operate far beyond their national borders.
In the same breath, Walker describes what might be termed the digital turn of the illegals programme. In the place of suburban sleepers decoding radio signals, Russia has backed teams of online operatives – “troll illegals” – tasked with wrecking havoc across Western social media platforms.
These paid agents don’t gather intelligence so much as sow discord. They stoke culture wars, amplify political divisions and undermine trust in democratic institutions. Walker offers Russia’s meddling in the rancorous 2016 American election as an illustrative case in point.
In Putin’s merciless autocracy, secrecy has once again became a virtue – and the spy, far from being a dusty relic of the 20th century, is once again a symbol of national strength.
In that sense, The Illegals is not just a history of espionage. It is a timely reminder that, at least for some, the Cold War never really ended. It just burrowed deeper underground.
Alexander Howard 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 kettle is a household staple practically everywhere – how else would we make our hot drinks?
But is it okay to re-boil water that’s already in the kettle from last time? While bringing water to a boil disinfects it, you may have heard that boiling water more than once will somehow make the water harmful and therefore you should empty the kettle each time.
Such claims are often accompanied by the argument that re-boiled water leads to the accumulation of allegedly hazardous substances including metals such as arsenic, or salts such as nitrates and fluoride.
This isn’t true. To understand why, let’s look at what is in our tap water and what really happens when we boil it.
What’s in our tap water?
Let’s take the example of tap water supplied by Sydney Water, Australia’s largest water utility which supplies water to Sydney, the Blue Mountains and the Illawarra region.
From the publicly available data for the January to March 2025 quarter for the Illawarra region, these were the average water quality results:
pH was slightly alkaline
total dissolved solids were low enough to avoid causing scaling in pipes or appliances
fluoride content was appropriate to improve dental health, and
it was “soft” water with a total hardness value below 40mg of calcium carbonate per litre.
The water contained trace amounts of metals such as iron and lead, low enough magnesium levels that it can’t be tasted, and sodium levels substantially lower than those in popular soft drinks.
These and all other monitored quality parameters were well within the Australian Drinking Water Guidelines during that period. If you were to make tea with this water, re-boiling would not cause a health problem. Here’s why.
It’s difficult to concentrate such low levels of chemicals
To concentrate substances in the water, you’d need to evaporate some of the liquid while the chemicals stay behind. Water evaporates at any temperature, but the vast majority of evaporation happens at the boiling point – when water turns into steam.
During boiling, some volatile organic compounds might escape into the air, but the amount of the inorganic compounds (such as metals and salts) remains unchanged.
While the concentration of inorganic compounds might increase as drinking water evaporates when boiled, evidence shows it doesn’t happen to such an extent that it would be hazardous.
Let’s say you boil one litre of tap water in a kettle in the morning, and your tap water has a fluoride content of 1mg per litre, which is within the limits of Australian guidelines.
You make a cup of tea taking 200ml of the boiled water. You then make another cup of tea in the afternoon by re-boiling the remaining water.
On both occasions, if heating was stopped soon after boiling started, the loss of water by evaporation would be small, and the fluoride content in each cup of tea would be similar.
But let’s assume that when making the second cup, you let the water keep boiling until 100ml of what’s in the kettle evaporates. Even then, the amount of fluoride you would consume with the second cup (0.23mg) would not be significantly higher than the fluoride you consumed with the first cup of tea (0.20mg).
The same applies to any other minerals or organics the supplied water may have contained. Let’s take lead: the water supplied in the Illawarra region as mentioned above, had a lead concentration of less than 0.0001mg per litre. To reach an unsafe lead concentration (0.01mg per litre, according to Australian guidelines) in a cup of water, you’d need to boil down roughly 20 litres of tap water to just that cup of 200ml.
Practically that is unlikely to happen – most electric kettles are designed to boil briefly before automatically shutting off. As long as the water you’re using is within the guidelines for drinking water, you can’t really concentrate it to harmful levels within your kettle.
But what about taste?
Whether re-boiled water actually affects the taste of your drinks will depend entirely on the specifics of your local water supply and your personal preferences.
The slight change in mineral concentration, or the loss of dissolved oxygen from water during boiling may affect the taste for some people – although there are a lot of other factors that contribute to the taste of your tap water.
The bottom line is that as long as the water in your kettle was originally compliant with guidelines for safe drinking water, it will remain safe and potable even after repeated boiling.
Faisal Hai 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 – Global Perspectives – By Mathieu Duval, Adjunct Senior Researcher at Griffith University and La Trobe University, and Ramón y Cajal (Senior) Research Fellow, Centro Nacional de Investigación sobre la Evolución Humana (CENIEH)
Fossils are invaluable archives of the past. They preserve details about living things from a few thousand to hundreds of millions of years ago.
Studying fossils can help us understand the evolution of species over time, and glimpse snapshots of past environments and climates. Fossils can also reveal the diets or migration patterns of long-gone species – including our own ancestors.
But when living things turn to rock, discerning those details is no easy feat. One common technique for studying fossils is micro-computerised tomography or micro-CT. It’s been used to find the earliest evidence of bone cancer in humans, to study brain imprints and inner ears in early hominins, and to study the teeth of the oldest human modern remains outside Africa, among many other examples.
However, our new study, published today in Radiocarbon, shows that despite being widely regarded as non-destructive, micro-CT may actually affect fossil preservation and erase some crucial information held inside.
Preserving precious specimens
Fossils are rare and fragile by nature. Scientists are constantly evaluating how to balance their impact on fossils with the need to study them.
When palaeontologists and palaeoanthropologists (who work on human fossils) analyse fossils, they want to minimise any potential damage. We want to preserve fossils for future generations as much as possible – and technology can be a huge help here.
Micro-CT works like the medical CT scans doctors use to peek inside the human body. However, it does so at a much smaller scale and at a greater resolution.
This is perfect for studying small objects such as fossils. With micro-CT, scientists can take high-resolution 3D images and access the inner structure of fossils without the need to cut them open.
These scans also allow for virtual copies of the fossils, which other scientists can then access from anywhere in the world. This significantly reduces the risk of damage, since the scanned fossils can safely remain in a museum collection, for example.
Micro-CT is popular and routinely used. The scientific community widely regards it as “non-destructive” because it doesn’t cause any visual damage – but it could still affect the fossil.
Jaw bone of the human fossil species Homo antecessor from Spain. Left: micro-CT scan with a cutting plane to visualise the inner structures, bone and teeth; right: 3D reconstruction based on the high-resolution micro-CT images. Laura Martín-Francés
How does micro-CT imaging work?
Micro-CT scanning uses X-rays and computer software to produce high-resolution images and reconstruct the fossil specimens in detail. Typically, palaeontologists use commercial scanners for this, but more advanced investigations may use powerful X-ray beams generated at a synchrotron.
The X-rays go through the specimen and are captured by a detector on the other end. This allows for a very fine-grained understanding of the matter they’ve passed through – especially density, which then provides clues about the shape of the internal structures, the composition of the tissues, or any contamination.
The scan produces a succession of 2D images from all angles. Computer software is then used to “clean up” these high-resolution images and assemble them into a 3D shape – a virtual copy of the fossil and its inner structures.
Example of micro-CT results on a hominin fossil known as Little Foot, from southern Africa.
But X-rays are not harmless
X-rays are a type of ionising radiation. This means they have a high level of energy and can break electrons away from atoms (this is called ionisation).
However, despite what we know about the impact of X-rays on living cells, the potential impact of X-rays on fossils through micro-CT imaging has never been deeply investigated.
What did our study find?
Using standard settings on a typical micro-CT scanner, we scanned several modern and fossil bones and teeth from animals. We also measured their collagen content before and after scanning.
Collagen is useful for many analytical purposes, such as finding out the age of the fossils using radiocarbon dating, or for stable isotope analysis – a method used to infer the diet of the extinct species, for example. The collagen content in fossils is usually much lower than in modern specimens because it slowly breaks down over time.
After comparing our measurements with unscanned samples taken from the same specimens, we found two things.
First, the radiocarbon age remained unchanged. In other words, micro-CT scanning doesn’t affect radiocarbon dating. That’s the good news.
The bad news is that we did observe a significant decrease in the amount of collagen present. In other words, the micro-CT scanned samples had about 35% less collagen than the samples before scanning.
This shows micro-CT imaging has a non-negligible impact on fossils that contain collagen traces. While this was to be expected, the impact hasn’t been experimentally confirmed before.
It’s possible some fossil samples won’t have enough collagen left after micro-CT scanning. This would make them unsuitable for a range of analytical techniques, including radiocarbon dating.
What now?
In a previous study, we showed micro-CT can artificially “age” fossils later dated with a method called electron spin resonance. It’s commonly used to date fossils older than 50,000 years – beyond what the radiocarbon method can discern.
This previous study and our new work show that micro-CT scanning may significantly and irreversibly change the fossil and the information it holds.
Despite causing no visible damage to the fossil, we argue that in this context the technique should no longer be regarded as non-destructive.
Micro-CT imaging is highly valuable in palaeontology and palaeoanthropology, no doubt about that. But our results suggest it should be used sparingly to minimise how much fossils are exposed to X-rays. There are guidelines scientists can use to minimise damage. Freely sharing data to avoid repeated scans of the same specimen will be helpful, too.
Mathieu Duval receives funding from the Spanish State Research Agency (Agencia Estatal de Investigación). He is currently the recipient of a Ramón y Cajal fellowship (RYC2018-025221-I) funded by MCIN/AEI/10.13039/501100011033 and by ‘‘ESF Investing in your future”. This work is also part of Spanish Grant PID2021-123092NB-C22 funded by MCIN/AEI/10.13039/501100011033/FEDER, UE, and by ‘‘ERDF A way of making Europe”.
Laura Martín-Francés receives funding from Marie Sklodowska-Curie Actions of the EU Ninth programme (2021-2027) under the HORIZON-MSCA-2021-PF-01-Project: 101060482.
Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Nicole Rinehart, Nicole Rinehart, Professor, Clinical Psychology, Director of the Neurodevelopment Program, School of Psychological Sciences, Faculty of Medicine, Nursing and Health Sciences, Monash University
Autism is a neurodevelopmental condition that affects how people’s brains develop and function, impacting behaviour, communication and socialising. It can also involve differences in the way you move and walk – known as your “gait”.
Having an “odd gait” is now listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders as a supporting diagnostic feature of autism.
What does this look like?
The most noticeable gait differences among autistic people are:
toe-walking, walking on the balls of the feet
in-toeing, walking with one or both feet turned inwards
out-toeing, walking with one or both feet turned out.
spending longer in the “stance” phase, when the foot leaves the ground
taking more time to complete each step.
Autistic people show much more personal variability in the length and speed of their strides, as well as their walking speed.
Gait differences also tend to occur alongside other motor differences, such as issues with balance, coordination, postural stability and handwriting. Autistic people may need support for these other motor skills.
The basal ganglia are broadly responsible for sequencing movement including through shifting posture. It ensures your gait appears effortless, smooth and automatic.
The cerebellum then uses visual and proprioceptive information (to sense the body’s position and movement) to adjust and time movements to maintain postural stability. It ensures movement is controlled and coordinated.
Developmental differences in these brain regions relate to the way the areas look (their structure), how they work (their function and activation) and how they “speak” to other areas of the brain (their connections).
While some researchers have suggested that autistic gait occurs due to delayed development, we now know gait differences persist across the lifespan. Some differences actually become clearer with age.
In addition to brain-based differences, the autistic gait is also associated with factors such as the person’s broader motor, language and cognitive capabilities.
People with more complex support needs might have more pronounced gait or motor differences, together with language and cognitive difficulties.
Not all differences need to be treated. Instead, clinicians take an individualised and goals-based approach.
Some autistic people might have subtle gait differences that are observable during testing. But if these differences don’t impact a person’s ability to participate in everyday life, they don’t require support.
An autistic person is likely to benefit from support for gait differences if they have a functional impact on their daily life. This might include:
increased risk of, or frequent, falls
difficulty participating in the physical activities they enjoy
physical consequences such as tightness of the Achilles and calf muscles, or associated pain in other areas, such as the feet or back.
Some children may also benefit from support for motor skill development. However this doesn’t have to occur in a clinic.
Given children spend a large portion of their time at school, programs that integrate opportunities for movement throughout the school day allow autistic children to develop motor skills outside of the clinic and alongside peers. We developed the Joy of Moving Program in Australia, for example, which gets students moving in the classroom.
Our community-based intervention studiesshow autistic children’s movement abilities can improve after engaging in community-based interventions, such as sports or dance.
Community-based support models empower autistic children to have agency in how they move, rather than seeing different ways of moving as a problem to be fixed.
Where to from here?
While we have learnt a lot about autistic gait at a broad level, researchers and clinicians are still seeking a better understanding of why and when individual variability occurs.
We’re also still determining how to best support individual movement styles, including among children as they develop.
However there is growing evidence that physical activity enhances social skills and behavioural regulation in preschool children with autism.
So it’s encouraging that states and territories are moving towards more community-based foundational supports for autistic children and their peers, as governments develop supports outside the National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS).
Nicole Rinehart receives funding from: Moose Happy Kids Foundation, MECCA M-Power, the Grace & Emilio Foundation, Ferrero Australia, as part of the global Kinder Joy of moving program, Aspen Pharmacare Australia Pty Ltd, Jonathan and Simone Wenig, Adam Krongold, the Grosman Family Foundation, the Shoreline Foundation, the Victorian Department of Education, the NSW Department of Education, and the Department of Social Services – Information, Linkages and Capacity Building (ILC) Program, and has worked in partnership with the Australian Football League.
Chloe Emonson works on projects that receive funding from: Moose Happy Kids Foundation, MECCA M-Power, the Grace & Emilio Foundation, Ferrero Australia, as part of the global Kinder Joy of moving program, Aspen Pharmacare Australia Pty Ltd, Jonathan and Simone Wenig, Adam Krongold, the Grosman Family Foundation, the Shoreline Foundation, the Victorian Department of Education, the NSW Department of Education, and the Department of Social Services – Information, Linkages and Capacity Building (ILC) Program, and has worked in partnership with the Australian Football League.
Ebony Lindor works on projects that receive funding from: Moose Happy Kids Foundation, MECCA M-Power, the Grace & Emilio Foundation, Ferrero Australia, as part of the global Kinder Joy of moving program, Aspen Pharmacare Australia Pty Ltd, Jonathan and Simone Wenig, Adam Krongold, the Grosman Family Foundation, the Shoreline Foundation, the Victorian Department of Education, the NSW Department of Education, and the Department of Social Services – Information, Linkages and Capacity Building (ILC) Program, and has worked in partnership with the Australian Football League.
Breakups hurt. Emotional and psychological distress are common when intimate relationships break down. For some people, this distress can be so overwhelming that it leads to suicidal thoughts and behaviours.
This problem seems especially the case for men. Intimate partner problems including breakups, separation and divorce feature in the paths to suicide among one in three Australian men aged 25 to 44 who end their lives.
Men account for three in every four suicides in many nations worldwide, including Australia. So improving our understanding of links between relationship breakdown and men’s suicide risk has life-saving potential.
Our research, published today, is the first large-scale review of the evidence to focus on understanding men’s risk of suicide after a breakup. We found separated men were nearly five times more likely to die by suicide compared to married men.
What did we find?
We brought together findings from 75 studies across 30 countries worldwide, involving more than 106 million men.
We focused on understanding why relationship breakdown can lead to suicide in men, and which men are most at risk. We might not be able to prevent breakups from happening, but we can promote healthy adjustment to the stress of relationship breakdown to try and prevent suicide.
Overall, we found divorced men were 2.8 times more likely to take their lives than married men.
For separated men, the risk was much higher. We found that separated men were 4.8 times more likely to die by suicide than married men.
Most strikingly, we found separated men under 35 years of age had nearly nine times greater odds of suicide than married men of the same age.
Some men’s difficulties regulating the intense emotional stress of relationship breakdown can play a role in their suicide risk. For some men, the emotional pain tied to separation – deep sadness, shame, guilt, anxiety and loss – can be so intense it feels never-ending.
Overall, our research found relationship breakdown may lead to suicide for some men because of the complex interaction between the individual (emotional distress) and interpersonal (changes in their social network and availability of support) impacts of a breakup.
Many of these impacts don’t seem to feature in the paths to suicide after a breakup for women in the same way.
Breakups also impact social networks
As intimate relationships become more serious, we tend to spend less time investing in our friendships, especially if juggling the demands of a career and family.
This can create a risky situation if relationships break down, as it seems many men are left with little support to turn to. This rang true in our research, as men’s social disconnection and loneliness seemed to increase their suicide risk following relationship breakdown.
We also know people can struggle to know how to support men after a breakup. Research has found some men who ask for support are told to just “get back on the horse”. Such a response invalidates men’s pain and reinforces masculine stereotypes that relationship breakdown doesn’t affect them.
So, what can we do?
There is no simple answer to preventing suicide following relationship breakdown, but a range of opportunities exist.
We can embed support groups and other opportunities for connection and peer support in relationship services that are regularly in contact with those navigating separation, to help combat loneliness.
We can ensure mental health practitioners are equipped with the skills necessary to engage and respond effectively to men who seek help following a breakup, to help keep them safe until they can get back on their feet.
Most importantly, if men come to any of us seeking support after a breakup, we can remember that time is often a great healer. The best we can do is sit with men in their pain, rather than try and get them to stop feeling it. This connection could be life-saving.
Support and information is available at Relationships Australia and MensLine Australia. If this article has raised issues for you, or if you’re concerned about someone you know, call Lifeline on 13 11 14.
Michael Wilson works for The University of Melbourne and consults to Movember. He receives funding from the Australian Government Research Training Program Scholarship, provided by the Australian Commonwealth Government and the University of Melbourne.
Jacqui Macdonald receives funding from the National Health and Medical Research Council’s Medical Research Future Fund and the Australian Research Council. She convenes the Australian Fatherhood Research Consortium and she is on the Movember Global Men’s Health Advisory Committee.
Zac Seidler has been awarded an NHMRC Investigator Grant. He is also the Global Director of Research with the Movember Institute of Men’s Health. He advises government on men’s suicide, masculinities, violence prevention and social media policy.
Tourists in Kathmandu are tempted everywhere by advertisements for trekking expeditions to Everest Base Camp. If you didn’t know better, you might think it’s just a nice hike in the Nepalese countryside.
Typically the lower staging post for attempts on the summit, the camp is still 5,364 metres above sea level and a destination in its own right. Travel agencies say no prior experience is required, and all equipment will be provided. Social media, too, is filled with posts enticing potential trekkers to make the iconic journey.
But there is a real risk of creating a false sense of security. An exciting adventure can quickly turn into a struggle for survival, especially for novice mountaineers.
Nevertheless, Sagarmatha National Park is deservedly popular for its natural beauty and the allure of the world’s highest peak, Chomolungma (Mount Everest). It is also home to the ethnically distinctive Sherpa community.
Consequently, the routes to Everest Base Camp are among the busiest in the Himalayas, with nearly 60,000 tourists visiting the area each year. There are two distinct trekking seasons: spring (March to May) and autumn (September to October).
High mountains require everyone to be properly prepared. Events which under normal conditions might be a minor inconvenience can be magnified in such an environment and pose a serious risk.
Even at the start of the trek in Lukla (2,860m), one is exposed to factors that can directly or indirectly affect one’s health, especially altitude mountain sickness or unfamiliar bacteria.
We interviewed 24 trekkers in May this year, as well as 60 residents and business owners in May 2023, to explore some of the safety issues anyone considering heading to base camp should be aware of.
Life at high altitude
First, it’s vital to choose goals within one’s technical and physical capabilities. While the human body can adapt to altitudes of up to 5,300m, the potential risk of altitude mountain sickness can occur at only 2,500m – lower than Lukla.
Proper acclimatisation above 3,000m means ascending no more than 500m a day and resting every two to three days at the same altitude. The optimal (though rarely followed) approach is the “saw tooth system” of climbing during the day but descending to sleep at a lower level.
Residents of the Khumbu region (on the Nepalese side of Everest) are familiar with the problem of tourists not acclimatising, or not paying attention to their surroundings. As one hotel owner said, pointing to a trekker setting out:
He’s going uphill and it’s already late. It’s going to get dark and cold soon. He won’t make it to the next settlement. We have to report this to the authorities or go after him ourselves.
Inexperienced trekkers should hire a local guide. Several we interviewed had needed medical evacuation, including a woman in her mid-20s who had to leave base camp after one night. She found her guides – not locals – online. But they never checked her vital signs during the trek:
[The doctors] said that I had high-altitude pulmonary edema […] it was just really important to come down the elevation. And if I had tried to go higher, it probably would have been really bad.
Health checks throughout the trek are imperative. This includes assessing the four main symptoms of altitude mountain sickness: headache, nausea, dizziness and fatigue. If they appear, the trekker shouldn’t go higher and might even need to descend.
A Sherpa woman at the market in Namche Bazar, Nepal: respect the culture, eat local food. Paula Bronstein/Getty Images
Take time to adapt
Using a reputable local trekking agency might be more expensive, but it will help ensure safety and also familiarise the visitor with the local culture, helping avoid negative impacts on the host community.
Too often, the primary goal of trekkers is a photo on the famous rock at base camp. Once obtained, many simply take a helicopter back to Kathmandu. As a helicopter tour agency owner said:
They don’t want to get back on their feet. The goal, after all, has been achieved. In general, tourists used to be much better prepared. Now they know they can return by helicopter.
Helicopter travel can be dangerous on its own, of course. But this tendency to view the trek as a one-way trip also affects host-guest relations and can irritate local communities.
It’s also important to monitor your food and drink intake and watch for signs of food poisoning. Diarrhoea at high altitudes is particularly dangerous because it leads to rapid dehydration – hard to combat in mountain conditions.
Low air pressure and reduced oxygen exacerbate the condition, weakening the body’s ability to recover. Also, the symptoms of dehydration can resemble altitude mountain sickness.
When travelling in other climate zones or countries with different sanitary standards, there is inevitable contact with strains of bacteria not present in one’s natural microbiome.
A good solution is to spend a few days naturally adapting to bacterial flora at a lower altitude in Nepal before heading to the mountains. Also, try to eat the local food, such as daal bhat, Nepal’s national dish. According to one hotel owner in Pangboche:
Tourists demand strange food from us – pizza, spaghetti, Caesar salad – and then are angry that it doesn’t taste the way they want. This is not our food. You should probably eat local food.
Most of the trekkers we interviewed during this spring season reported experiencing gastrointestinal issues, often for several days.
In the end, the commonest cause of failure or accident in the mountains is overestimating one’s abilities – what has been called “bad judgement syndrome” – when the route is too hard, the pace too fast, or there’s been too little time spent acclimatising.
A simple solution: walk slowly and enjoy the views.
Michal Apollo receives funding from the National Science Centre NCN Poland, the small-scale project awarded by the Institute of Earth Sciences, and the Research Excellence Initiative of the University of Silesia in Katowice. He is affiliated with the Global Justice Program, Yale University, and Academics Stand Against Poverty.
Heike Schanzel 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 – Global Perspectives – By Nicole Rinehart, Nicole Rinehart, Professor, Clinical Psychology, Director of the Neurodevelopment Program, School of Psychological Sciences, Faculty of Medicine, Nursing and Health Sciences, Monash University
Autism is a neurodevelopmental condition that affects how people’s brains develop and function, impacting behaviour, communication and socialising. It can also involve differences in the way you move and walk – known as your “gait”.
Having an “odd gait” is now listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders as a supporting diagnostic feature of autism.
What does this look like?
The most noticeable gait differences among autistic people are:
toe-walking, walking on the balls of the feet
in-toeing, walking with one or both feet turned inwards
out-toeing, walking with one or both feet turned out.
spending longer in the “stance” phase, when the foot leaves the ground
taking more time to complete each step.
Autistic people show much more personal variability in the length and speed of their strides, as well as their walking speed.
Gait differences also tend to occur alongside other motor differences, such as issues with balance, coordination, postural stability and handwriting. Autistic people may need support for these other motor skills.
The basal ganglia are broadly responsible for sequencing movement including through shifting posture. It ensures your gait appears effortless, smooth and automatic.
The cerebellum then uses visual and proprioceptive information (to sense the body’s position and movement) to adjust and time movements to maintain postural stability. It ensures movement is controlled and coordinated.
Developmental differences in these brain regions relate to the way the areas look (their structure), how they work (their function and activation) and how they “speak” to other areas of the brain (their connections).
While some researchers have suggested that autistic gait occurs due to delayed development, we now know gait differences persist across the lifespan. Some differences actually become clearer with age.
In addition to brain-based differences, the autistic gait is also associated with factors such as the person’s broader motor, language and cognitive capabilities.
People with more complex support needs might have more pronounced gait or motor differences, together with language and cognitive difficulties.
Not all differences need to be treated. Instead, clinicians take an individualised and goals-based approach.
Some autistic people might have subtle gait differences that are observable during testing. But if these differences don’t impact a person’s ability to participate in everyday life, they don’t require support.
An autistic person is likely to benefit from support for gait differences if they have a functional impact on their daily life. This might include:
increased risk of, or frequent, falls
difficulty participating in the physical activities they enjoy
physical consequences such as tightness of the Achilles and calf muscles, or associated pain in other areas, such as the feet or back.
Some children may also benefit from support for motor skill development. However this doesn’t have to occur in a clinic.
Given children spend a large portion of their time at school, programs that integrate opportunities for movement throughout the school day allow autistic children to develop motor skills outside of the clinic and alongside peers. We developed the Joy of Moving Program in Australia, for example, which gets students moving in the classroom.
Our community-based intervention studiesshow autistic children’s movement abilities can improve after engaging in community-based interventions, such as sports or dance.
Community-based support models empower autistic children to have agency in how they move, rather than seeing different ways of moving as a problem to be fixed.
Where to from here?
While we have learnt a lot about autistic gait at a broad level, researchers and clinicians are still seeking a better understanding of why and when individual variability occurs.
We’re also still determining how to best support individual movement styles, including among children as they develop.
However there is growing evidence that physical activity enhances social skills and behavioural regulation in preschool children with autism.
So it’s encouraging that states and territories are moving towards more community-based foundational supports for autistic children and their peers, as governments develop supports outside the National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS).
Nicole Rinehart receives funding from: Moose Happy Kids Foundation, MECCA M-Power, the Grace & Emilio Foundation, Ferrero Australia, as part of the global Kinder Joy of moving program, Aspen Pharmacare Australia Pty Ltd, Jonathan and Simone Wenig, Adam Krongold, the Grosman Family Foundation, the Shoreline Foundation, the Victorian Department of Education, the NSW Department of Education, and the Department of Social Services – Information, Linkages and Capacity Building (ILC) Program, and has worked in partnership with the Australian Football League.
Chloe Emonson works on projects that receive funding from: Moose Happy Kids Foundation, MECCA M-Power, the Grace & Emilio Foundation, Ferrero Australia, as part of the global Kinder Joy of moving program, Aspen Pharmacare Australia Pty Ltd, Jonathan and Simone Wenig, Adam Krongold, the Grosman Family Foundation, the Shoreline Foundation, the Victorian Department of Education, the NSW Department of Education, and the Department of Social Services – Information, Linkages and Capacity Building (ILC) Program, and has worked in partnership with the Australian Football League.
Ebony Lindor works on projects that receive funding from: Moose Happy Kids Foundation, MECCA M-Power, the Grace & Emilio Foundation, Ferrero Australia, as part of the global Kinder Joy of moving program, Aspen Pharmacare Australia Pty Ltd, Jonathan and Simone Wenig, Adam Krongold, the Grosman Family Foundation, the Shoreline Foundation, the Victorian Department of Education, the NSW Department of Education, and the Department of Social Services – Information, Linkages and Capacity Building (ILC) Program, and has worked in partnership with the Australian Football League.
Breakups hurt. Emotional and psychological distress are common when intimate relationships break down. For some people, this distress can be so overwhelming that it leads to suicidal thoughts and behaviours.
This problem seems especially the case for men. Intimate partner problems including breakups, separation and divorce feature in the paths to suicide among one in three Australian men aged 25 to 44 who end their lives.
Men account for three in every four suicides in many nations worldwide, including Australia. So improving our understanding of links between relationship breakdown and men’s suicide risk has life-saving potential.
Our research, published today, is the first large-scale review of the evidence to focus on understanding men’s risk of suicide after a breakup. We found separated men were nearly five times more likely to die by suicide compared to married men.
What did we find?
We brought together findings from 75 studies across 30 countries worldwide, involving more than 106 million men.
We focused on understanding why relationship breakdown can lead to suicide in men, and which men are most at risk. We might not be able to prevent breakups from happening, but we can promote healthy adjustment to the stress of relationship breakdown to try and prevent suicide.
Overall, we found divorced men were 2.8 times more likely to take their lives than married men.
For separated men, the risk was much higher. We found that separated men were 4.8 times more likely to die by suicide than married men.
Most strikingly, we found separated men under 35 years of age had nearly nine times greater odds of suicide than married men of the same age.
Some men’s difficulties regulating the intense emotional stress of relationship breakdown can play a role in their suicide risk. For some men, the emotional pain tied to separation – deep sadness, shame, guilt, anxiety and loss – can be so intense it feels never-ending.
Overall, our research found relationship breakdown may lead to suicide for some men because of the complex interaction between the individual (emotional distress) and interpersonal (changes in their social network and availability of support) impacts of a breakup.
Many of these impacts don’t seem to feature in the paths to suicide after a breakup for women in the same way.
Breakups also impact social networks
As intimate relationships become more serious, we tend to spend less time investing in our friendships, especially if juggling the demands of a career and family.
This can create a risky situation if relationships break down, as it seems many men are left with little support to turn to. This rang true in our research, as men’s social disconnection and loneliness seemed to increase their suicide risk following relationship breakdown.
We also know people can struggle to know how to support men after a breakup. Research has found some men who ask for support are told to just “get back on the horse”. Such a response invalidates men’s pain and reinforces masculine stereotypes that relationship breakdown doesn’t affect them.
So, what can we do?
There is no simple answer to preventing suicide following relationship breakdown, but a range of opportunities exist.
We can embed support groups and other opportunities for connection and peer support in relationship services that are regularly in contact with those navigating separation, to help combat loneliness.
We can ensure mental health practitioners are equipped with the skills necessary to engage and respond effectively to men who seek help following a breakup, to help keep them safe until they can get back on their feet.
Most importantly, if men come to any of us seeking support after a breakup, we can remember that time is often a great healer. The best we can do is sit with men in their pain, rather than try and get them to stop feeling it. This connection could be life-saving.
Support and information is available at Relationships Australia and MensLine Australia. If this article has raised issues for you, or if you’re concerned about someone you know, call Lifeline on 13 11 14.
Michael Wilson works for The University of Melbourne and consults to Movember. He receives funding from the Australian Government Research Training Program Scholarship, provided by the Australian Commonwealth Government and the University of Melbourne.
Jacqui Macdonald receives funding from the National Health and Medical Research Council’s Medical Research Future Fund and the Australian Research Council. She convenes the Australian Fatherhood Research Consortium and she is on the Movember Global Men’s Health Advisory Committee.
Zac Seidler has been awarded an NHMRC Investigator Grant. He is also the Global Director of Research with the Movember Institute of Men’s Health. He advises government on men’s suicide, masculinities, violence prevention and social media policy.
Tourists in Kathmandu are tempted everywhere by advertisements for trekking expeditions to Everest Base Camp. If you didn’t know better, you might think it’s just a nice hike in the Nepalese countryside.
Typically the lower staging post for attempts on the summit, the camp is still 5,364 metres above sea level and a destination in its own right. Travel agencies say no prior experience is required, and all equipment will be provided. Social media, too, is filled with posts enticing potential trekkers to make the iconic journey.
But there is a real risk of creating a false sense of security. An exciting adventure can quickly turn into a struggle for survival, especially for novice mountaineers.
Nevertheless, Sagarmatha National Park is deservedly popular for its natural beauty and the allure of the world’s highest peak, Chomolungma (Mount Everest). It is also home to the ethnically distinctive Sherpa community.
Consequently, the routes to Everest Base Camp are among the busiest in the Himalayas, with nearly 60,000 tourists visiting the area each year. There are two distinct trekking seasons: spring (March to May) and autumn (September to October).
High mountains require everyone to be properly prepared. Events which under normal conditions might be a minor inconvenience can be magnified in such an environment and pose a serious risk.
Even at the start of the trek in Lukla (2,860m), one is exposed to factors that can directly or indirectly affect one’s health, especially altitude mountain sickness or unfamiliar bacteria.
We interviewed 24 trekkers in May this year, as well as 60 residents and business owners in May 2023, to explore some of the safety issues anyone considering heading to base camp should be aware of.
Life at high altitude
First, it’s vital to choose goals within one’s technical and physical capabilities. While the human body can adapt to altitudes of up to 5,300m, the potential risk of altitude mountain sickness can occur at only 2,500m – lower than Lukla.
Proper acclimatisation above 3,000m means ascending no more than 500m a day and resting every two to three days at the same altitude. The optimal (though rarely followed) approach is the “saw tooth system” of climbing during the day but descending to sleep at a lower level.
Residents of the Khumbu region (on the Nepalese side of Everest) are familiar with the problem of tourists not acclimatising, or not paying attention to their surroundings. As one hotel owner said, pointing to a trekker setting out:
He’s going uphill and it’s already late. It’s going to get dark and cold soon. He won’t make it to the next settlement. We have to report this to the authorities or go after him ourselves.
Inexperienced trekkers should hire a local guide. Several we interviewed had needed medical evacuation, including a woman in her mid-20s who had to leave base camp after one night. She found her guides – not locals – online. But they never checked her vital signs during the trek:
[The doctors] said that I had high-altitude pulmonary edema […] it was just really important to come down the elevation. And if I had tried to go higher, it probably would have been really bad.
Health checks throughout the trek are imperative. This includes assessing the four main symptoms of altitude mountain sickness: headache, nausea, dizziness and fatigue. If they appear, the trekker shouldn’t go higher and might even need to descend.
A Sherpa woman at the market in Namche Bazar, Nepal: respect the culture, eat local food. Paula Bronstein/Getty Images
Take time to adapt
Using a reputable local trekking agency might be more expensive, but it will help ensure safety and also familiarise the visitor with the local culture, helping avoid negative impacts on the host community.
Too often, the primary goal of trekkers is a photo on the famous rock at base camp. Once obtained, many simply take a helicopter back to Kathmandu. As a helicopter tour agency owner said:
They don’t want to get back on their feet. The goal, after all, has been achieved. In general, tourists used to be much better prepared. Now they know they can return by helicopter.
Helicopter travel can be dangerous on its own, of course. But this tendency to view the trek as a one-way trip also affects host-guest relations and can irritate local communities.
It’s also important to monitor your food and drink intake and watch for signs of food poisoning. Diarrhoea at high altitudes is particularly dangerous because it leads to rapid dehydration – hard to combat in mountain conditions.
Low air pressure and reduced oxygen exacerbate the condition, weakening the body’s ability to recover. Also, the symptoms of dehydration can resemble altitude mountain sickness.
When travelling in other climate zones or countries with different sanitary standards, there is inevitable contact with strains of bacteria not present in one’s natural microbiome.
A good solution is to spend a few days naturally adapting to bacterial flora at a lower altitude in Nepal before heading to the mountains. Also, try to eat the local food, such as daal bhat, Nepal’s national dish. According to one hotel owner in Pangboche:
Tourists demand strange food from us – pizza, spaghetti, Caesar salad – and then are angry that it doesn’t taste the way they want. This is not our food. You should probably eat local food.
Most of the trekkers we interviewed during this spring season reported experiencing gastrointestinal issues, often for several days.
In the end, the commonest cause of failure or accident in the mountains is overestimating one’s abilities – what has been called “bad judgement syndrome” – when the route is too hard, the pace too fast, or there’s been too little time spent acclimatising.
A simple solution: walk slowly and enjoy the views.
Michal Apollo receives funding from the National Science Centre NCN Poland, the small-scale project awarded by the Institute of Earth Sciences, and the Research Excellence Initiative of the University of Silesia in Katowice. He is affiliated with the Global Justice Program, Yale University, and Academics Stand Against Poverty.
Heike Schanzel 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.
I once leapt out of a train carriage because two strangers were loudly discussing the ending of the last Harry Potter book. Okay – I didn’t leap, but I did plug my ears and flee to another carriage.
Recently, I found myself in a similar predicament, trapped on a bus, entirely at the mercy of two passengers dissecting the Severance season two finale.
But not everyone shares my spoiler anxiety. I have friends who flip to the last page of a book before they’ve read the first one, or who look up the ending before hitting play. According to them, they simply need to know.
So why do some of us crave surprise and suspense, while others find comfort in instant resolution?
What’s in a spoiler?
Spoilers have become a cultural flashpoint in the age of streaming, social media and shared fandoms.
Researchers define “spoiler” as undesired information about how a narrative’s arc will conclude. I often hear “spoilers!” interjected mid-sentence, a desperate protest to protect narrative ignorance.
Hitchcock’s twist-heavy Psycho elevated spoiler sensitivity. Its release came with an anti-spoilers policy including strict viewing times, lobby warnings recorded by the auteur himself, and even real policemen urging “total enjoyment”. A bold ad campaign implored audiences against “cheating yourselves”.
The twists were fiercely protected.
Even the Star Wars cast didn’t know Darth Vader’s paternity twist until premiere night. Avenger’s Endgame filmed multiple endings and used fake scripting to mislead its stars. And Andrew Garfield flat-out lied about his return to Spider-Man: No Way Home – a performance worthy of an Oscar – all for the sake of fan surprise and enjoyment.
But do spoilers actually ruin the fun, or just shift how we experience it?
The satisfaction of a good ending
In 2014, a Dutch study found that viewers of unspoiled stories experienced greater emotional arousal and enjoyment. Spoilers may complete our “mental models” of the plot, making us less driven to engage, process events, or savour the unfolding story.
But we are also likely to overestimate the negative effect of a spoiler on our enjoyment. In 2016, a series of studies involving short stories, mystery fiction and films found that spoiled participants still reported high levels of enjoyment – because once we’re immersed, emotional connection tends to eclipse what we already know.
But suspense and enjoyment are complex bedfellows.
American media psychology trailblazer Dolf Zillmann said that suspense builds tension and excitement, but we only enjoy that tension once the ending lands well.
The thrill isn’t fun while we’re hanging in uncertainty – it’s the satisfying resolution that retroactively makes it feel good.
That could be why we scramble for an “ending explained” when a film or show drops the ball on closure. We’re trying to resolve uncertainty and settle our emotions.
Spoilers can also take the pressure off. A 2009 study of Lost fans found those who looked up how an episode would end actually enjoyed it more. The researchers found it reduced cognitive pressure, and gave them more room to reflect and soak in the story.
Spoilers put the audience back in the driver’s seat – even if filmmakers would rather keep hold of the wheel. People may seek spoilers out of curiosity or impatience, but sometimes it’s a quiet rebellion: a way to push back against the control creators hold over when and how things unfold.
That’s why spoilers are fertile ground for power dynamics. Ethicists even liken being spoiled to kind of moral trespass: how dare someone else make that decision for me?!
But whether you avoid spoilers or seek them out, the motive is often the same: a need to feel in control.
Shaping your emotions
Spoiler avoiders crave affect: they want emotional transportation.
When suspense is part of the pleasure, control means choosing when and how that knowledge lands. There’s a mental challenge to be had in riding the story as it unfolds, and a joy in seeing it click into place.
That’s why people get protective, and even chatter about long-aired shows can spark outrage. It’s an attempt to police the commentary and preserve the experience for those still waiting to be transported.
Spoiler seekers want control too, just a different kind. They’re not avoiding emotion, they’re just managing it. A spoiler affords control over our negative emotions, but also softens the blow, and inoculates us against anxiety.
Psychologists dub this a “non-cognitive desensitisation strategy” to manage surprise, a kind of “emotional spoiler shield” to protect our attachments to shows and characters, and remind us that TV, film and book narratives are not real when storylines hit close to home.
Knowing what happens turns into a subtle form of self-regulation.
So, what did I do when Severance spoilers floated by? Did I get off the bus? Nope, I stayed put and faced the beast. As I tried to make sense of the unfamiliar plot points (The macrodata means what? Mark stays where?), I found the unexpected chance to dive deeper.
Maybe surprise is not the sum of what makes something entertaining and worth engaging with. Spoiler alert! It’s good to have an end to journey towards, but it’s the journey that matters, in the end.
Anjum Naweed 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 – Global Perspectives – By Rachel Fitzgerald, Associate Professor and Deputy Associate Dean (Academic), Faculty of Business, Economics and Law, The University of Queensland
Artificial intelligence is rapidly becoming an everyday part of lives. Many of us use it without even realising, whether it be writing emails, finding a new TV show or managing smart devices in our homes.
But apart from a handful of computing-focused and other STEM programs, most Australian university students do not receive formal tuition in how to use AI critically, ethically or responsibly.
Here’s why this is a problem and what we can do instead.
But this does not teach students how these tools work or what responsible use involves.
Using AI is not as simple as typing questions into a chat function. There are widely recognised ethical issues around its use including bias and misinformation. Understanding these is essential for students to use AI responsibly in their working lives.
So all students should graduate with a basic understanding of AI, its limitations, the role of human judgement and what responsible use looks like in their particular field.
We need students to be aware of bias in AI systems. This includes how their own biases could shape how they use the AI (the questions they ask and how they interpret its output), alongside an understanding of the broader ethical implications of AI use.
For example, does the data and the AI tool protect people’s privacy? Has the AI made a mistake? And if so, whose responsibility is that?
What about AI ethics?
The technical side of AI is covered in many STEM degrees. These degrees, along with philosophy and psychology disciplines, may also examine ethical questions around AI. But these issues are not a part of mainstream university education.
This is a concern. When future lawyers use predictive AI to draft contracts, or business graduates use AI for hiring or marketing, they will need skills in ethical reasoning.
Ethical issues in these scenarios could include unfair bias, like AI recommending candidates based on gender or race. It could include issues relating to a lack of transparency, such as not knowing how an AI system made a legal decision. Students need to be able to spot and question these risks before they cause harm.
In healthcare, AI tools are already supporting diagnosis, patient triage and treatment decisions.
For example, if a teacher relies on AI carelessly to draft a lesson plan, students might learn a version of history that is biased or just plain wrong. A lawyer who over-relies on AI could submit a flawed court document, putting their client’s case at risk.
How can we do this?
There are international examples we can follow. The University of Texas at Austin and University of Edinburgh both offer programs in ethics and AI. However, both of these are currently targeted at graduate students. The University of Texas program is focused on teaching STEM students about AI ethics, whereas the University of Edinburgh’s program has a broader, interdiscplinary focus.
Implementing AI ethics in Australian universities will require thoughtful curriculum reform. That means building interdisciplinary teaching teams that combine expertise from technology, law, ethics and the social sciences. It also means thinking seriously about how we engage students with this content through core modules, graduate capabilities or even mandatory training.
It will also require investment in academic staff development and new teaching resources that make these concepts accessible and relevant to different disciplines.
Government support is essential. Targeted grants, clear national policy direction, and nationally shared teaching resources could accelerate the shift. Policymakers could consider positioning universities as “ethical AI hubs”. This aligns with the government-commissioned 2024 Australian University Accord report, which called for building capacity to meet the demands of the digital era.
Today’s students are tomorrow’s decision-makers. If they don’t understand the risks of AI and its potential for error, bias or threats to privacy, we will all bear the consequences. Universities have a public responsibility to ensure graduates know how to use AI responsibly and understand why their choices matter.
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.
In the thrilling finale of the TV series The Americans, set during the Reagan administration, deep-cover KGB operatives Philip and Elizabeth Jennings are faced with a difficult decision. Posing as an ordinary American married couple, for decades they have raised children, filed tax returns and slipped effortlessly into the rhythms and routines of everyday suburban existence in Washington, D.C.
All the while, they’ve been spying – gathering intelligence and surreptitiously feeding it to their communist masters in Soviet Moscow. Now, with the FBI closing in and their cover on the brink of collapse, they must decide whether to stay and face arrest or flee the country they’ve come to call home. There’s also their teenage children to consider.
The story seemed too incredible to be true – but in fact it was based in part on Donald Heathfield and Ann Foley, subsequently outed as Andrei Bezrukov and Elena Vavilova, a Russian couple who had spent more than 20 years masquerading as Canadians. At the time of their unmasking, they were living quietly in the United States with Tim and Alex, their two sons.
Review: The Illegals: Russia’s Most Audacious Spies and the Plot to Infiltrate the West – Shaun Walker (Profile)
A new book, The Illegals, tells of a network of Russian agents operating across the US, during the late 20th and early 21st centuries – including Bezrukov and Vavilova. It opens with their dramatic 2010 arrest, part of ten Russian spies (mostly illegals like them) detained by the FBI.
Author Shaun Walker, the Guardian’s central and eastern Europe correspondent, draws on declassified archival material and first-hand interviews. The result is an engrossing, eye-opening account of the secret world of the Soviet “illegals programme”: embedded spies who lived surreptitiously in the West without the safety blanket of diplomatic protection.
As Walker explains, “legals” were Russian operatives working under official cover – as diplomats or embassy staff, privy to diplomatic immunity. By contrast, “illegals” operated off the grid. They crept silently into Western countries under false identities, often stolen from the dead. This made them harder to detect, but left them far more vulnerable if exposed.
One of the most high-profile figures in the 2010 spy bust was Anna Chapman. Unlike many other illegals, Chapman didn’t even bother to disguise her Russian identity. Instead, as Walker recounts, she entered America using a British passport – acquired through a brief marriage to a UK citizen – and worked as a New York real estate broker.
Her photogenic looks and media-friendly persona made her the public face of the scandal. After being deported, Chapman reinvented herself as a television host, runway model and pro-Kremlin influencer.
The real Americans
Walker outlines how Bezrukov and Vavilova first met in the early 1980s, as history students in Siberia. There, KGB “spotters” identified them for potential recruitment. Later, he adds,
they progressed to an arduous training programme lasting several years, moulding their language, mannerisms and identities into those of an ordinary couple. They left the Soviet Union separately in 1987, staged a meeting in Canada, and began a relationship as if they had just met.
Having married under their assumed names, Andrei and Elena adopted the habits and customs of an ordinary middle-class life. After the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, the couple were cut off from Moscow, but by the end of the decade they were reactivated by the SVR, Russia’s new foreign intelligence agency. Around this time, Andrei won a place at Harvard’s Kennedy School, allowing the family to move to Massachusetts and integrate further into American society.
As Andrei networked in academic and policy circles, Elena maintained the illusion of domestic normality, fashioning herself as a doting “soccer mom”, raising the kids and keeping house. Meanwhile, she was secretly decoding encrypted radio messages in the back room.
This went on for years. Then, one day, an unexpected knock on the door as they celebrated their son Tim’s 20th birthday brought the charade crashing down. FBI agents burst in, handcuffed the couple in front of their sons and marched them out into the street.
Soon after their arrest, Andrei and Elena were deported to Russia in a high-profile spy swap. They were awarded state honours by Vladimir Putin and briefly became minor celebrities in Moscow. Their sons, both born in Canada, were left reeling.
In 2016, Walker tracked the sons down for a piece he was writing for The Guardian: they were in the process of suing the Canadian government to have their citizenship reinstated, having been stripped of it when everything kicked off. In 2019, a court ruled Tim and Alex (who was 16 when the FBI arrested his parents) could keep their citizenship. Both insisted they had known nothing about their parents’ espionage work.
Alex Valivov, son of Russian ‘illegal’ spies disguised as Americans, talked to the media after he won a court bid to keep his Canadian citizenship.
Putin ‘beside himself’
As Walker recounts, the raid had been coordinated by then-FBI director Robert Mueller. It had been timed to avoid derailing a carefully planned diplomatic summit.
In 2009, Barack Obama launched a high-profile “reset” of relations with Russia. Obama wanted to woo Dmitry Medvedev – a moderate political figurehead standing in for Putin, who remained the real power behind the scenes in Russia.
A planned summit in Washington intended to cement the spirit of renewed cooperation. But as the scale of Russia’s covert operation became apparent, the White House was faced with a dilemma: how to respond without jeopardising the reset.
According to Walker, Obama was irked by the whole situation. He quipped that it felt like something out of a John Le Carré novel. Eventually, a compromise was reached: the arrests would happen, but only after Medvedev’s visit, so as not to cause undue embarrassment.
Colonel Aleksandr Poteyev, deputy head of Directorate “S” of the SVR, was the man overseeing the illegals scheme. After the arrests were made, he quietly walked out of the agency headquarters in Yasenevo for the last time. He was the mole who had tipped off the Americans. From there, he made his way to Ukraine, where the CIA could safely extricate him to the US. On hearing the news, Putin was reportedly beside himself with rage, Walker writes.
Intrigued by this “twisted family story”, Walker started to look into the illegals venture in greater depth. He quickly realised “there was nothing quite like it in the history of espionage”. At times, various intelligence agencies had deployed operatives as foreign nationals, “but never with the scope or scale of the KGB programme”.
A century of dramatic, bloody history
The illegals were, in Walker’s reckoning, something uniquely Russian, rooted in the country’s complex historical experience. The more he read, the more he came to view the programme as a lens through which he could “tell a much bigger story, of the whole Soviet experiment and its ultimate failure, a century of dramatic and bloody history”.
To understand how the illegals project came about, Walker winds the clock all the way back to 1917, when the Bolsheviks seized power – and espionage became a cornerstone of the nascent Soviet state. He reminds us while Lenin and his comrades had won formal control of the nation, “they still faced the colossal task of implementing and retaining it across the vast Russian landmass”.
Lenin was sure that state institutions would eventually wither away, the evolving worker’s paradise rendering them meaningless. However, to achieve this happy end point, he believed an interim period of ruthless state violence was required.
The Cheka: precursor to the KGB
This helps to explain why he established the Cheka, a secret police force tasked with crushing counterrevolutionary activity and enforcing Bolshevik rule. At its head was Feliks Dzerzhinsky, a fanatical Polish ideologue who had spent years in Siberian exile. Far from a temporary measure, the Cheka “quickly grew to a huge fighting force that could be unleashed on political and class enemies”, Walker writes.
Feliks Dzierzynski was the head of the Cheka, the Russian secret police force that preceded the KGB. Wikimedia Commons
The Cheka was an important player in the Russian Civil War, which pitted Lenin’s Reds against the Whites – a loose alliance of pro-tsarist regiments and foreign mercenaries, often united by little more than their implacable hatred of Bolshevism. The situation on the ground was chaotic and unpredictable; both sides engaged in ruthless violence.
Here, in this blood-drenched crucible, the Bolsheviks honed their clandestine methods – konspiratsiya (subterfuge) – perfecting the use of disguises, false identities and underground communication. In areas where the Whites gained a territorial foothold, agents were ordered to stay behind and coordinate resistance, laying the groundwork for what would become the illegals programme.
When the Bolsheviks emerged victorious in 1921, the Cheka was not disbanded – but repurposed. The practice of planting operatives deep inside enemy lines survived the war and expanded in scope. Lenin’s idea of combining legal diplomatic work with illegal undercover infiltration became a defining feature of how the Soviet Union would run its intelligence services for the next 70 years.
Stalin’s secret police
Under Lenin’s successor, Joseph Stalin, the secret police was transformed into an all-encompassing instrument of surveillance, repression and domination.
Purges consumed the party. Ideological fervour curdled into show trials and murderous terror. And paranoia became an organising principle of Soviet political life. The demand for vigilance intensified – not just at home, where informants and denunciations became routine, but also abroad. Real and purported enemies were seen lurking in the democratic institutions of the West.
Ironies abound here. The very methods that helped to sustain the early Soviet state – secrecy, trickery, duplicity – soon became grounds for suspicion on Stalin’s watch. The generation of illegals trained and embedded during the 1920s and early 1930s were among those earmarked for liquidation, Walker writes. Stalin, ever wary of plots against him, came to view his own spies as potential traitors.
He ignored – or wilfully dismissed – much of the intelligence they had risked their lives to gather, often with disastrous consequences. When advance warnings of Operation Barbarossa, Hitler’s secret plan to betray Stalin and launch a massive invasion of the Soviet Union, landed on his desk in 1941, for instance, they were waved away as provocation or outright fabrication. In some cases, he had his spies tortured or shot. Loyalty was no protector against paranoia.
Dmitry Bystrolyotov was a legend in Soviet intelligence circles. Alchetron
Among the casualties was Dmitry Bystrolyotov, who Walker describes as “perhaps the most talented illegal in the history of the programme”. A truly chameleonic figure, Bystrolyotov was a dashing and multilingual agent whose exploits in Western Europe made him a legend in Soviet intelligence circles. “His speciality was the recruitment of agents who had access to diplomatic codes and ciphers,” the Russian scholar Emil Draitser attests, “and his modus operandi involved women”.
Through a series of painstakingly crafted affairs, Bystrolyotov gained access to confidential dispatches, internal memos and state secrets. His work offered Stalin a rare glimpse into the inner workings of Europe’s ruling elite. But when The Great Terror rolled around in 1937, none of it mattered. He was arrested, sentenced and dispatched to the Gulag, callously tossed aside by the system he had served with such distinction.
Walker emphasises:
the history of the illegals offers a neat reflection of the story of Russia itself. The early programme, with its soaring ambition, its obsession with subterfuge, and its disregard for the well-being of individuals, holds up a mirror to the fiery utopianism of the early Soviet Union.
Did the Cold War really end?
These were people expected to vanish into enemy territory, sacrifice their identifies and live double lives, all in service of a revolutionary vision. But by the time the Soviet Union spluttered to an ignominious halt in 1991, that dream had long since died.
As Walker shows, most of the operatives who followed in the footsteps of Bystrolyotov were not darkly romantic infiltrators scaling embassy walls or charming secrets out of countesses. They were “sleepers” – often efficient, occasionally incompetent – blending quietly into Western cities and suburbs, awaiting a call to action that, in many cases, never came. The glitz had given way to the grind.
The Americans ends with Phillip and Elizabeth, the couple based on Bezrukov and Vavilova, gazing out across the Moscow skyline. Two weary spies coming in from the cold, they have returned to a rapidly unravelling motherland that may not understand – let alone appreciate – the sacrifices they have made in the service of its ideology.
As Walker discovered, Berzukov, when he isn’t being paid handsomely by an oil company, now lectures in international relations at one of Russia’s most prestigious universities. Vavilova, fittingly enough, now writes spy fiction.
Yet in real life, the story doesn’t end quite there. Under Putin, a former KGB officer who cut his teeth in the culture of espionage, Russia’s intelligence services have returned to the illegals programme with a renewed sense of purpose (though stripped of the ideological zeal that once propelled it).
Walker is careful not to indulge in idle speculation, but he points to compelling evidence suggesting the illegals programme has evolved rather than vanished. High-profile attacks on UK soil – including the poisoning of form spy Sergei Skripal – suggest Russian intelligence agencies remain willing to operate far beyond their national borders.
In the same breath, Walker describes what might be termed the digital turn of the illegals programme. In the place of suburban sleepers decoding radio signals, Russia has backed teams of online operatives – “troll illegals” – tasked with wrecking havoc across Western social media platforms.
These paid agents don’t gather intelligence so much as sow discord. They stoke culture wars, amplify political divisions and undermine trust in democratic institutions. Walker offers Russia’s meddling in the rancorous 2016 American election as an illustrative case in point.
In Putin’s merciless autocracy, secrecy has once again became a virtue – and the spy, far from being a dusty relic of the 20th century, is once again a symbol of national strength.
In that sense, The Illegals is not just a history of espionage. It is a timely reminder that, at least for some, the Cold War never really ended. It just burrowed deeper underground.
Alexander Howard 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 kettle is a household staple practically everywhere – how else would we make our hot drinks?
But is it okay to re-boil water that’s already in the kettle from last time? While bringing water to a boil disinfects it, you may have heard that boiling water more than once will somehow make the water harmful and therefore you should empty the kettle each time.
Such claims are often accompanied by the argument that re-boiled water leads to the accumulation of allegedly hazardous substances including metals such as arsenic, or salts such as nitrates and fluoride.
This isn’t true. To understand why, let’s look at what is in our tap water and what really happens when we boil it.
What’s in our tap water?
Let’s take the example of tap water supplied by Sydney Water, Australia’s largest water utility which supplies water to Sydney, the Blue Mountains and the Illawarra region.
From the publicly available data for the January to March 2025 quarter for the Illawarra region, these were the average water quality results:
pH was slightly alkaline
total dissolved solids were low enough to avoid causing scaling in pipes or appliances
fluoride content was appropriate to improve dental health, and
it was “soft” water with a total hardness value below 40mg of calcium carbonate per litre.
The water contained trace amounts of metals such as iron and lead, low enough magnesium levels that it can’t be tasted, and sodium levels substantially lower than those in popular soft drinks.
These and all other monitored quality parameters were well within the Australian Drinking Water Guidelines during that period. If you were to make tea with this water, re-boiling would not cause a health problem. Here’s why.
It’s difficult to concentrate such low levels of chemicals
To concentrate substances in the water, you’d need to evaporate some of the liquid while the chemicals stay behind. Water evaporates at any temperature, but the vast majority of evaporation happens at the boiling point – when water turns into steam.
During boiling, some volatile organic compounds might escape into the air, but the amount of the inorganic compounds (such as metals and salts) remains unchanged.
While the concentration of inorganic compounds might increase as drinking water evaporates when boiled, evidence shows it doesn’t happen to such an extent that it would be hazardous.
Let’s say you boil one litre of tap water in a kettle in the morning, and your tap water has a fluoride content of 1mg per litre, which is within the limits of Australian guidelines.
You make a cup of tea taking 200ml of the boiled water. You then make another cup of tea in the afternoon by re-boiling the remaining water.
On both occasions, if heating was stopped soon after boiling started, the loss of water by evaporation would be small, and the fluoride content in each cup of tea would be similar.
But let’s assume that when making the second cup, you let the water keep boiling until 100ml of what’s in the kettle evaporates. Even then, the amount of fluoride you would consume with the second cup (0.23mg) would not be significantly higher than the fluoride you consumed with the first cup of tea (0.20mg).
The same applies to any other minerals or organics the supplied water may have contained. Let’s take lead: the water supplied in the Illawarra region as mentioned above, had a lead concentration of less than 0.0001mg per litre. To reach an unsafe lead concentration (0.01mg per litre, according to Australian guidelines) in a cup of water, you’d need to boil down roughly 20 litres of tap water to just that cup of 200ml.
Practically that is unlikely to happen – most electric kettles are designed to boil briefly before automatically shutting off. As long as the water you’re using is within the guidelines for drinking water, you can’t really concentrate it to harmful levels within your kettle.
But what about taste?
Whether re-boiled water actually affects the taste of your drinks will depend entirely on the specifics of your local water supply and your personal preferences.
The slight change in mineral concentration, or the loss of dissolved oxygen from water during boiling may affect the taste for some people – although there are a lot of other factors that contribute to the taste of your tap water.
The bottom line is that as long as the water in your kettle was originally compliant with guidelines for safe drinking water, it will remain safe and potable even after repeated boiling.
Faisal Hai 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.
Breakups hurt. Emotional and psychological distress are common when intimate relationships break down. For some people, this distress can be so overwhelming that it leads to suicidal thoughts and behaviours.
This problem seems especially the case for men. Intimate partner problems including breakups, separation and divorce feature in the paths to suicide among one in three Australian men aged 25 to 44 who end their lives.
Men account for three in every four suicides in many nations worldwide, including Australia. So improving our understanding of links between relationship breakdown and men’s suicide risk has life-saving potential.
Our research, published today, is the first large-scale review of the evidence to focus on understanding men’s risk of suicide after a breakup. We found separated men were nearly five times more likely to die by suicide compared to married men.
What did we find?
We brought together findings from 75 studies across 30 countries worldwide, involving more than 106 million men.
We focused on understanding why relationship breakdown can lead to suicide in men, and which men are most at risk. We might not be able to prevent breakups from happening, but we can promote healthy adjustment to the stress of relationship breakdown to try and prevent suicide.
Overall, we found divorced men were 2.8 times more likely to take their lives than married men.
For separated men, the risk was much higher. We found that separated men were 4.8 times more likely to die by suicide than married men.
Most strikingly, we found separated men under 35 years of age had nearly nine times greater odds of suicide than married men of the same age.
Some men’s difficulties regulating the intense emotional stress of relationship breakdown can play a role in their suicide risk. For some men, the emotional pain tied to separation – deep sadness, shame, guilt, anxiety and loss – can be so intense it feels never-ending.
Overall, our research found relationship breakdown may lead to suicide for some men because of the complex interaction between the individual (emotional distress) and interpersonal (changes in their social network and availability of support) impacts of a breakup.
Many of these impacts don’t seem to feature in the paths to suicide after a breakup for women in the same way.
Breakups also impact social networks
As intimate relationships become more serious, we tend to spend less time investing in our friendships, especially if juggling the demands of a career and family.
This can create a risky situation if relationships break down, as it seems many men are left with little support to turn to. This rang true in our research, as men’s social disconnection and loneliness seemed to increase their suicide risk following relationship breakdown.
We also know people can struggle to know how to support men after a breakup. Research has found some men who ask for support are told to just “get back on the horse”. Such a response invalidates men’s pain and reinforces masculine stereotypes that relationship breakdown doesn’t affect them.
So, what can we do?
There is no simple answer to preventing suicide following relationship breakdown, but a range of opportunities exist.
We can embed support groups and other opportunities for connection and peer support in relationship services that are regularly in contact with those navigating separation, to help combat loneliness.
We can ensure mental health practitioners are equipped with the skills necessary to engage and respond effectively to men who seek help following a breakup, to help keep them safe until they can get back on their feet.
Most importantly, if men come to any of us seeking support after a breakup, we can remember that time is often a great healer. The best we can do is sit with men in their pain, rather than try and get them to stop feeling it. This connection could be life-saving.
Support and information is available at Relationships Australia and MensLine Australia. If this article has raised issues for you, or if you’re concerned about someone you know, call Lifeline on 13 11 14.
Michael Wilson works for The University of Melbourne and consults to Movember. He receives funding from the Australian Government Research Training Program Scholarship, provided by the Australian Commonwealth Government and the University of Melbourne.
Jacqui Macdonald receives funding from the National Health and Medical Research Council’s Medical Research Future Fund and the Australian Research Council. She convenes the Australian Fatherhood Research Consortium and she is on the Movember Global Men’s Health Advisory Committee.
Zac Seidler has been awarded an NHMRC Investigator Grant. He is also the Global Director of Research with the Movember Institute of Men’s Health. He advises government on men’s suicide, masculinities, violence prevention and social media policy.
First Nations people please be advised this article speaks of racially discriminating moments in history, including the distress and death of First Nations people.
In 1997, Australia was confronted with the landmark Bringing Them Home report. It chronicled the country’s long, dark history of the forced removal of First Nations children.
The report also made recommendations on what to do next. Compensation was key among them. Every state and territory heeded that call in the years that followed, except Western Australia.
In the decades since, many have called for the recognition of, and compensation for, First Nations people in WA forcibly removed from their families, culture and Country. In May, Premier Roger Cook answered that call, announcing a redress scheme for living survivors of the Stolen Generations.
But the Stolen Generations aren’t just historical; they’re ongoing. Many still feel the reverberations of decades of trauma. WA will finally seek to redress some of it.
Generations forced apart
WA had the highest rates of forcible removal of Aboriginal children in this country. Today, more than 50% of Aboriginal people in WA are either Stolen Generations survivors or their direct descendants.
Historian Margaret Jacobs wrote that through the 1905 Aborigines Protection Act, “Indigeneity itself became inextricably associated with neglect”.
Aboriginal families, due solely to their Aboriginality, were regarded as inferior and their children were removed en masse to missions where traditional cultural practices were prohibited. Stolen Generations child removals continued until the 1970s.
In the missions where Aboriginal children were placed after removal, psychological, physical and sexual abuse was widespread. The children, often removed as infants, were institutionalised and raised by religious missionaries.
Speaking in traditional languages or engaging in cultural practices were prohibited, with the goal being to strip them of their Aboriginality so they could be fully assimilated into Western society. To minimise barriers to this, parents and families were prohibited from communicating or visiting their children.
The human consequences of these inhumane practices have been monumental.
The financial impact
Attachment theory attests to the importance of early childhood experiences of love, care and safety on an individual’s future life outcomes. The theory suggests infants develop one of four main attachment styles in response to the care they receive from their parents or other carers during infancy.
The significance of this in the context of generations of children being forcibly removed from their caregivers cannot be understated.
In addition, the majority of Stolen Generations children survived various forms of abuse within these institutions and live with the resulting trauma of that.
Under the 1905 act, any property or personal items owned by Aboriginal people could be confiscated at any time and money owing to Aboriginal peoples, including wages, was to be paid to the Chief Protector of Aborigines.
This prevented Aboriginal families from securing financial stability and establishing intergenerational wealth, despite their significant labour contributions to WA’s economic development.
A good indicator of intergenerational wealth consolidation can be found in rates of home ownership.
Currently, 45.8% of Aboriginal people in the greater Perth area own their home, compared with 70.4% of their non-Aboriginal counterparts.
Of those, 10.8% of Aboriginal households own their home outright, compared with 28.5% for non-Aboriginal owners.
This makes redress not just a symbolic move, but a deeply practical one too.
Compounding disadvantage
Overall, these circumstances have created a “gap within the Gap”.
This refers to the first gap, being that Aboriginal people have poorer life outcomes than their non-Aboriginal counterparts.
The gap within that gap is that Stolen Generations survivors and their descendants have poorer life outcomes than the general Aboriginal population.
Stolen Generations peoples and their descendants are more likely to have mental health disorders, to experience family violence, homelessness or criminal justice involvement, and to have an addiction, including substances and gambling, while also being less likely to have a support network.
This state scheme will make individual payments to living survivors of the Stolen Generations who were forcibly removed before July 1 1972.
It will deliver a one-off payment of $85,000 to survivors in recognition of the trauma and pain they suffered through their removal.
Registrations for Stolen Generations members who are eligible for this scheme will open in the latter half of 2025 and payments will commence by the end of the year.
It won’t fix everything, but it’s a welcome sign of progress.
13YARN is a free and confidential 24/7 national crisis support line for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people who are feeling overwhelmed or having difficulty coping. Call 13 92 76.
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.
Tourists in Kathmandu are tempted everywhere by advertisements for trekking expeditions to Everest Base Camp. If you didn’t know better, you might think it’s just a nice hike in the Nepalese countryside.
Typically the lower staging post for attempts on the summit, the camp is still 5,364 metres above sea level and a destination in its own right. Travel agencies say no prior experience is required, and all equipment will be provided. Social media, too, is filled with posts enticing potential trekkers to make the iconic journey.
But there is a real risk of creating a false sense of security. An exciting adventure can quickly turn into a struggle for survival, especially for novice mountaineers.
Nevertheless, Sagarmatha National Park is deservedly popular for its natural beauty and the allure of the world’s highest peak, Chomolungma (Mount Everest). It is also home to the ethnically distinctive Sherpa community.
Consequently, the routes to Everest Base Camp are among the busiest in the Himalayas, with nearly 60,000 tourists visiting the area each year. There are two distinct trekking seasons: spring (March to May) and autumn (September to October).
High mountains require everyone to be properly prepared. Events which under normal conditions might be a minor inconvenience can be magnified in such an environment and pose a serious risk.
Even at the start of the trek in Lukla (2,860m), one is exposed to factors that can directly or indirectly affect one’s health, especially altitude mountain sickness or unfamiliar bacteria.
We interviewed 24 trekkers in May this year, as well as 60 residents and business owners in May 2023, to explore some of the safety issues anyone considering heading to base camp should be aware of.
Life at high altitude
First, it’s vital to choose goals within one’s technical and physical capabilities. While the human body can adapt to altitudes of up to 5,300m, the potential risk of altitude mountain sickness can occur at only 2,500m – lower than Lukla.
Proper acclimatisation above 3,000m means ascending no more than 500m a day and resting every two to three days at the same altitude. The optimal (though rarely followed) approach is the “saw tooth system” of climbing during the day but descending to sleep at a lower level.
Residents of the Khumbu region (on the Nepalese side of Everest) are familiar with the problem of tourists not acclimatising, or not paying attention to their surroundings. As one hotel owner said, pointing to a trekker setting out:
He’s going uphill and it’s already late. It’s going to get dark and cold soon. He won’t make it to the next settlement. We have to report this to the authorities or go after him ourselves.
Inexperienced trekkers should hire a local guide. Several we interviewed had needed medical evacuation, including a woman in her mid-20s who had to leave base camp after one night. She found her guides – not locals – online. But they never checked her vital signs during the trek:
[The doctors] said that I had high-altitude pulmonary edema […] it was just really important to come down the elevation. And if I had tried to go higher, it probably would have been really bad.
Health checks throughout the trek are imperative. This includes assessing the four main symptoms of altitude mountain sickness: headache, nausea, dizziness and fatigue. If they appear, the trekker shouldn’t go higher and might even need to descend.
A Sherpa woman at the market in Namche Bazar, Nepal: respect the culture, eat local food. Paula Bronstein/Getty Images
Take time to adapt
Using a reputable local trekking agency might be more expensive, but it will help ensure safety and also familiarise the visitor with the local culture, helping avoid negative impacts on the host community.
Too often, the primary goal of trekkers is a photo on the famous rock at base camp. Once obtained, many simply take a helicopter back to Kathmandu. As a helicopter tour agency owner said:
They don’t want to get back on their feet. The goal, after all, has been achieved. In general, tourists used to be much better prepared. Now they know they can return by helicopter.
Helicopter travel can be dangerous on its own, of course. But this tendency to view the trek as a one-way trip also affects host-guest relations and can irritate local communities.
It’s also important to monitor your food and drink intake and watch for signs of food poisoning. Diarrhoea at high altitudes is particularly dangerous because it leads to rapid dehydration – hard to combat in mountain conditions.
Low air pressure and reduced oxygen exacerbate the condition, weakening the body’s ability to recover. Also, the symptoms of dehydration can resemble altitude mountain sickness.
When travelling in other climate zones or countries with different sanitary standards, there is inevitable contact with strains of bacteria not present in one’s natural microbiome.
A good solution is to spend a few days naturally adapting to bacterial flora at a lower altitude in Nepal before heading to the mountains. Also, try to eat the local food, such as daal bhat, Nepal’s national dish. According to one hotel owner in Pangboche:
Tourists demand strange food from us – pizza, spaghetti, Caesar salad – and then are angry that it doesn’t taste the way they want. This is not our food. You should probably eat local food.
Most of the trekkers we interviewed during this spring season reported experiencing gastrointestinal issues, often for several days.
In the end, the commonest cause of failure or accident in the mountains is overestimating one’s abilities – what has been called “bad judgement syndrome” – when the route is too hard, the pace too fast, or there’s been too little time spent acclimatising.
A simple solution: walk slowly and enjoy the views.
Michal Apollo receives funding from the National Science Centre NCN Poland, the small-scale project awarded by the Institute of Earth Sciences, and the Research Excellence Initiative of the University of Silesia in Katowice. He is affiliated with the Global Justice Program, Yale University, and Academics Stand Against Poverty.
Heike Schanzel 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 Albanese government has faced an increasingly uncertain world since its re-election in May.
US President Donald Trump has cast a long shadow over the Australia–US alliance, raising fresh questions about Canberra’s long-term regional strategy.
Against this backdrop, Prime Minister Anthony Albanese’s approach to foreign policy is reflecting a careful recalibration – one that seeks to balance security partnerships with the pursuit of economic opportunities, especially with Australia’s largest trading partner, China.
Albanese has wrapped up a six-day visit to China which was characterised by a highly pragmatic approach to dealing with the problems and irritants in the bilateral relationship.
Economic engagement
Albanese’s visit to Beijing, Shanghai and Chengdu – cities emblematic of Australia’s political, economic and cultural connections with China – was more than symbolic.
But it was more than a leaders’ summit. A large team of key business leaders in banking, manufacturing, mining and education were on the trip to meet their Chinese counterparts and seek more cooperation.
Economic engagement dominated the visit. As Albanese highlighted before his trip, “my priority is jobs”.
Broader partnerships spanning multiple sectors, including healthcare, education and green energy, were canvassed. The two nations also explored closer cooperation on energy transition and climate change.
Chinese Ambassador to Australia Xiao Qian has even floated a collaboration on artificial intelligence.
However, the suggestion has been met with caution in Canberra due to ongoing concerns around national security and data governance.
Cooperate where we can
Beyond trade and investment, the visit also marked an effort to rebuild people-to-people exchanges.
Since last year, Australian citizens have been able to visit China for up to 30 days without a visa. In turn, Australia will welcome more Chinese visitors under a new Memorandum of Understanding promoting Australia as a premier tourist destination for Chinese travellers.
Albanese’s meetings with Xi Jinping and Li Qiang also yielded concrete results.
The official joint statement emphasised economic cooperation, particularly in climate-related areas such as steel decarbonisation, dryland farming and the green economy.
These outcomes align with the Albanese government’s guiding principle: cooperate where we can.
The deeper economic cooperation has been noted in China, where there is an expectation collaboration will continue to accelerate on the back of improved relations.
As James Laurenceson of the Australia–China Relations Institute recently noted, a stronger economic partnership will help foster more resilient ties across the board.
More independent foreign policy
Other analysts also see increased mutual benefits in the bilateral relationship.
China-watcher James Curran suggests the visit may signal a maturing, more independent Australian foreign policy.
The primary role of Australian statecraft is to do everything we possibly can to avoid a conflict. To avoid ever getting close to a decision about following the Americans into a war of that kind.
This was best illustrated by Albanese’s refusal to provide Washington with a wide-ranging and largely open-ended commitment to support the US in any conflict with China over Taiwan.
Indeed, as Curran observes, Albanese has tried to steer the relationship away from disagreement and towards pragmatic engagement.
Following his meeting with Xi, Albanese was repeatedly asked by Australian journalists if he raised sensitive issues such as Taiwan, China’s military build-up and the South China Sea.
While he confirmed these topics were addressed, he emphasised a preference for peaceful engagement:
[…] we want peace and security in the region. That is in the interest of both Australia and in the interest of China.
Unsurprisingly, the joint statement made no reference to these issues, reflecting a mutual decision to sidestep confrontation in favour of stabilising the relationship.
Quietly managing differences
This diplomatic posture toward China would appear to be a defining feature of the Albanese government’s second term: strengthening cooperation while quietly managing differences.
Rather than highlighting points of contention, the government is opting to avoid open disagreement where possible.
Overt disputes risk destabilising bilateral ties. If issues are raised publicly, it is unlikely to shift entrenched positions on either side. This explains why the ownership of the Port of Darwin, for example, was not mentioned during Albanese’s meeting with Xi.
Critics, however, argue this risks projecting weakness towards China.
Justin Bassi, executive director of the Australian Strategic Policy Institute, warns the government is staying silent in the face of ongoing Chinese coercion:
Australia is only complying with China’s desires when the government says nothing and leaves the public to trust that the threats posed by China are all being dealt with in the classified realm. This is not viable policy. Australia’s sovereignty must not be contingent on Beijing’s preferences.
Even within China, analysts are cautious about Albanese’s approach. As one Chinese scholar told us, “a stable relationship does not necessarily mean a friendly one”.
In fact, while the Chinese media has stressed Australia and China’s shared commitment to regional stability, this was barely mentioned in the official joint statement.
Mutual interests
Still, there is recognition on both sides that pragmatism rather than ideological grandstanding is the more sustainable path forward.
In sum, Albanese’s visit does not mark a dramatic reset or bold new direction in Australia–China relations. Rather, it signals a shift toward greater realism.
In an increasingly complex and multipolar world, diplomacy grounded in mutual interests, rather than ideology, is not just practical, but may be a growing trend across the globe.
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.
The U.S. Senate narrowly approved on July 16, 2025, a bill that would claw back federal funding for the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, which distributes money to NPR, PBS and their affiliate stations. The US$9 billion rescission package will withdraw $1.1 billion Congress had previously approved for the CPB to receive in the 2026 and 2027 fiscal years. In addition, it makes deep foreign aid cuts. All Democrats present voted against the measure, joined by two Republicans: Sens. Susan Collins of Maine and Lisa Murkowski of Alaska. As long as the House, which approved a previous version, votes in favor of the Senate’s version of the bill by midnight July 18, Trump will be able to meet a budgetary deadline by signing the measure into law in time for it to take effect.
What will happen to NPR, PBS and local stations?
NPR and PBS provide programming to local public television and radio stations across the country. The impact on them will be direct and indirect.
Both NPR and PBS receive money from the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, an independent nonprofit corporation Congress created in 1967 to receive and distribute federal money to public broadcasters. More than 70% of the money it distributes flows directly to local stations. Some stations get up to half of their budgets from the CPB.
But NPR and PBS get much of their funding from foundation grants, viewers’ and listeners’ donations, and corporate underwriting. And local public radio and TV stations also get support from an array of sources besides CPB.
“There’s nothing more American than PBS,” said the network’s CEO, Paula Kerger, at a congressional hearing on March 26, 2025.
The nearly 1,500 public media stations in the U.S. rely on a mix of NPR, PBS and third-party producer programming, such as American Public Media and PRX, for the programs they offer. Local stations also produce and air regional news and provide emergency broadcasts for the government.
In rural areas with few broadcast stations and spotty cellphone coverage, public broadcast stations are vital sources of information about important community news and updates during emergencies. Federal support is essential for the programming and day-to-day operations of many local stations and allows for the maintenance of equipment and personnel to operate these vital community resources.
We believe that stations in communities that most need them, especially in rural locations, would be hit especially hard because they rely heavily on CPB funding.
Why is public media necessary when there’s news on the internet?
As journalism revenue has plummeted, public broadcasting has remained a vital source for news in communities across the nation. This is especially true in rural communities, where economic and political pressures have threatened the survival of local journalism.
In addition, with much online news coverage placed behind paywalls, public radio and television plays an important role in making quality journalism available to the American public.
Want crucial information about water systems in your drought-prone community? Public radio station KVMR in Nevada City, Calif., has a program for you. KVMR screenshot
Why did Congress approve these funds 2 years ahead?
Dozens of Native American stations are at risk of closing once the CPB is defunded. Native Public Media, a network of 57 radio stations and four TV stations, is a key source of news and information for tribal communities across the nation and relies on CPB support.
U.S. Sen. Mike Rounds, a South Dakota Republican, publicly stated that he secured an agreement with the White House to move $9.4 million in Interior Department funding to two dozen Native American stations. But there is no provision related to this promise within the legislation.
Allison Perlman is the co-chair of the Scholars Advisory Committee of the American Archive of Public Broadcasting.
Josh Shepperd and Allison Perlman are under contract to co-author an update of the history of public broadcasting for Current, public media’s trade journal, and the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. Josh and Allison are not paid employees or vendors of either institution.
The U.S. Senate narrowly approved on July 16, 2025, a bill that would claw back federal funding for the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, which distributes money to NPR, PBS and their affiliate stations. The US$9 billion rescission package will withdraw $1.1 billion Congress had previously approved for the CPB to receive in the 2026 and 2027 fiscal years. In addition, it makes deep foreign aid cuts. All Democrats present voted against the measure, joined by two Republicans: Sens. Susan Collins of Maine and Lisa Murkowski of Alaska. As long as the House, which approved a previous version, votes in favor of the Senate’s version of the bill by midnight July 18, Trump will be able to meet a budgetary deadline by signing the measure into law in time for it to take effect.
What will happen to NPR, PBS and local stations?
NPR and PBS provide programming to local public television and radio stations across the country. The impact on them will be direct and indirect.
Both NPR and PBS receive money from the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, an independent nonprofit corporation Congress created in 1967 to receive and distribute federal money to public broadcasters. More than 70% of the money it distributes flows directly to local stations. Some stations get up to half of their budgets from the CPB.
But NPR and PBS get much of their funding from foundation grants, viewers’ and listeners’ donations, and corporate underwriting. And local public radio and TV stations also get support from an array of sources besides CPB.
“There’s nothing more American than PBS,” said the network’s CEO, Paula Kerger, at a congressional hearing on March 26, 2025.
The nearly 1,500 public media stations in the U.S. rely on a mix of NPR, PBS and third-party producer programming, such as American Public Media and PRX, for the programs they offer. Local stations also produce and air regional news and provide emergency broadcasts for the government.
In rural areas with few broadcast stations and spotty cellphone coverage, public broadcast stations are vital sources of information about important community news and updates during emergencies. Federal support is essential for the programming and day-to-day operations of many local stations and allows for the maintenance of equipment and personnel to operate these vital community resources.
We believe that stations in communities that most need them, especially in rural locations, would be hit especially hard because they rely heavily on CPB funding.
Why is public media necessary when there’s news on the internet?
As journalism revenue has plummeted, public broadcasting has remained a vital source for news in communities across the nation. This is especially true in rural communities, where economic and political pressures have threatened the survival of local journalism.
In addition, with much online news coverage placed behind paywalls, public radio and television plays an important role in making quality journalism available to the American public.
Want crucial information about water systems in your drought-prone community? Public radio station KVMR in Nevada City, Calif., has a program for you. KVMR screenshot
Why did Congress approve these funds 2 years ahead?
Dozens of Native American stations are at risk of closing once the CPB is defunded. Native Public Media, a network of 57 radio stations and four TV stations, is a key source of news and information for tribal communities across the nation and relies on CPB support.
U.S. Sen. Mike Rounds, a South Dakota Republican, publicly stated that he secured an agreement with the White House to move $9.4 million in Interior Department funding to two dozen Native American stations. But there is no provision related to this promise within the legislation.
Allison Perlman is the co-chair of the Scholars Advisory Committee of the American Archive of Public Broadcasting.
Josh Shepperd and Allison Perlman are under contract to co-author an update of the history of public broadcasting for Current, public media’s trade journal, and the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. Josh and Allison are not paid employees or vendors of either institution.
I once leapt out of a train carriage because two strangers were loudly discussing the ending of the last Harry Potter book. Okay – I didn’t leap, but I did plug my ears and flee to another carriage.
Recently, I found myself in a similar predicament, trapped on a bus, entirely at the mercy of two passengers dissecting the Severance season two finale.
But not everyone shares my spoiler anxiety. I have friends who flip to the last page of a book before they’ve read the first one, or who look up the ending before hitting play. According to them, they simply need to know.
So why do some of us crave surprise and suspense, while others find comfort in instant resolution?
What’s in a spoiler?
Spoilers have become a cultural flashpoint in the age of streaming, social media and shared fandoms.
Researchers define “spoiler” as undesired information about how a narrative’s arc will conclude. I often hear “spoilers!” interjected mid-sentence, a desperate protest to protect narrative ignorance.
Hitchcock’s twist-heavy Psycho elevated spoiler sensitivity. Its release came with an anti-spoilers policy including strict viewing times, lobby warnings recorded by the auteur himself, and even real policemen urging “total enjoyment”. A bold ad campaign implored audiences against “cheating yourselves”.
The twists were fiercely protected.
Even the Star Wars cast didn’t know Darth Vader’s paternity twist until premiere night. Avenger’s Endgame filmed multiple endings and used fake scripting to mislead its stars. And Andrew Garfield flat-out lied about his return to Spider-Man: No Way Home – a performance worthy of an Oscar – all for the sake of fan surprise and enjoyment.
But do spoilers actually ruin the fun, or just shift how we experience it?
The satisfaction of a good ending
In 2014, a Dutch study found that viewers of unspoiled stories experienced greater emotional arousal and enjoyment. Spoilers may complete our “mental models” of the plot, making us less driven to engage, process events, or savour the unfolding story.
But we are also likely to overestimate the negative effect of a spoiler on our enjoyment. In 2016, a series of studies involving short stories, mystery fiction and films found that spoiled participants still reported high levels of enjoyment – because once we’re immersed, emotional connection tends to eclipse what we already know.
But suspense and enjoyment are complex bedfellows.
American media psychology trailblazer Dolf Zillmann said that suspense builds tension and excitement, but we only enjoy that tension once the ending lands well.
The thrill isn’t fun while we’re hanging in uncertainty – it’s the satisfying resolution that retroactively makes it feel good.
That could be why we scramble for an “ending explained” when a film or show drops the ball on closure. We’re trying to resolve uncertainty and settle our emotions.
Spoilers can also take the pressure off. A 2009 study of Lost fans found those who looked up how an episode would end actually enjoyed it more. The researchers found it reduced cognitive pressure, and gave them more room to reflect and soak in the story.
Spoilers put the audience back in the driver’s seat – even if filmmakers would rather keep hold of the wheel. People may seek spoilers out of curiosity or impatience, but sometimes it’s a quiet rebellion: a way to push back against the control creators hold over when and how things unfold.
That’s why spoilers are fertile ground for power dynamics. Ethicists even liken being spoiled to kind of moral trespass: how dare someone else make that decision for me?!
But whether you avoid spoilers or seek them out, the motive is often the same: a need to feel in control.
Shaping your emotions
Spoiler avoiders crave affect: they want emotional transportation.
When suspense is part of the pleasure, control means choosing when and how that knowledge lands. There’s a mental challenge to be had in riding the story as it unfolds, and a joy in seeing it click into place.
That’s why people get protective, and even chatter about long-aired shows can spark outrage. It’s an attempt to police the commentary and preserve the experience for those still waiting to be transported.
Spoiler seekers want control too, just a different kind. They’re not avoiding emotion, they’re just managing it. A spoiler affords control over our negative emotions, but also softens the blow, and inoculates us against anxiety.
Psychologists dub this a “non-cognitive desensitisation strategy” to manage surprise, a kind of “emotional spoiler shield” to protect our attachments to shows and characters, and remind us that TV, film and book narratives are not real when storylines hit close to home.
Knowing what happens turns into a subtle form of self-regulation.
So, what did I do when Severance spoilers floated by? Did I get off the bus? Nope, I stayed put and faced the beast. As I tried to make sense of the unfamiliar plot points (The macrodata means what? Mark stays where?), I found the unexpected chance to dive deeper.
Maybe surprise is not the sum of what makes something entertaining and worth engaging with. Spoiler alert! It’s good to have an end to journey towards, but it’s the journey that matters, in the end.
Anjum Naweed 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.
On Saturday I came into possession of this letter, transcript below.
Keith Rankin, trained as an economic historian, is a retired lecturer in Economics and Statistics. He lives in Auckland, New Zealand.
I will note that the recipient of the letter is someone I know a bit about; I would like to know more about his time in London, circa 1930-1932. I understand that he attended the London School of Economics. I never met him; but, me being a student of the Great Depression, I wish I had known him while writing my MA thesis.
Eric Salmon lived from 1903 to 1990. Certainly a patrician, he was an Auckland City Councillor and associate of Auckland’s ‘Mayor Robbie’. While he would never have had any sympathy with the Nazi cause, I would like to think that, like me, he would have had some empathy for the German people in 1933; and the many other people then caught up in events – indeed zeitgeists – moving too fast, and on too great a scale.
Sadly, I will never be able to see Mr Salmon’s letter to his German contact (probably written late in 1932). I do not know if he replied to the letter below.
Home Address:
Schwelm (in Westfalen)
Kirkplatz 7
Schwelm, 6th VI. [June] 1933
Dear Mr. Salmon,
Your letter with the interesting account of your native [town?] and the economic position of New Zealand was a great joy to me, and I thank you very much for it. I hope, you won’t take it amiss that my answer comes so late. During the last months I spent all my time in finishing the dissertation for my doctor examination. Some days ago I finally handed it to my professor, and I am now preparing for the oral examination which will take place in the end of July. – How are you getting on with your work?
In the course of rather a short time the political situation in this country has thoroughly changed, and the questions you put to me in your letter have found a sudden solution. I may add : also a good one. You are perhaps astonished to read that, for – as far as I know – most of the great newspapers of the world tell you just the contrary. The reason for it is that the European nations, above all France and Polonia [Poland], but England too, fear a new war, and this fear is in an inexcusable way nourished by all those German people who don’t agree with the new spirit and the new methods. The Jewish question is also of great importance. The measures we took against the Jews were not at all cruel or unjustified, as you read in English papers. All we try is only to reduce the enormous influence and power of the Jews in Germany to an extent which compounds to their small number. More and more their influence has become a destructive force in our national life. What you see nowadays in Germany is not a warlike or an extremely militaristic spirit or a mass barbarism (as many foreigners suppose), but the will to build a new nation, in which no longer the unchecked liberalism of the postwar years reigns. We were standing just before a complete breakdown and the chaos of Communism, which would have been fatal for the whole world. In this dangerous moment came the revolution of our nationalist party under the great leader Hitler. It marks the beginning of something quite new in Germany. We know that a great many tasks are waiting for us, but seeing them we are no longer desperate as it was the case in the last years. The new Germany has a new hope, a new will, and a new energy, and with them we shall overcome all problems and difficulties.
What do you think about the change in Germany, and what do you read in the papers? I should be very glad to hear something about it from you. Hoping you are quite well I am with kindest regards, yours Theodor Hort.
Herr Hort – presumably Dr Hort, soon after – is writing from Schwelm, eleven kilometres east of the Westphalian city of Wuppertal. To the west of Wuppertal is Düsseldorf, on the Rhine; Cologne is to the south, near where the river Wupper flows into the Rhine. To the north of Wuppertal is the Ruhr Valley, Germany’s western industrial heartland. Between Düsseldorf and Wuppertal is Neandertal/Neanderthal. Most of the journey between Wuppertal and Schwelm can be taken on the ‘world-famous in Westphalia’ Wuppertal Schwebebahn, the suspension railway, built between 1897 and 1903, which runs above the Wupper River. I am privileged to have ridden on that railway in 1984.
I have no idea what Theodor Hort’s fate was. Maybe he was recruited for the notorious Einsatzgruppen, which was top-heavy with academic doctors? More likely he turned away, at least in his mind, from the excesses of the New Germany; nevertheless serving his country in some capacity, albeit out of the kind of obligation that would have been hard to refuse. There is a high chance he died during the war. I’m guessing he would have been about 35 years old in 1943.
Throughout the twentieth century, many young Australians and New Zealanders studied at the London School of Economics. (William Pember Reeves was its Director from 1908 to 1919.) So did many upper-middle-class Germans; Herr Hort clearly fell into that class-category. Other Germans to study economics at the LSE included Heinrich Brüning and Ursula von der Leyen.
Brüning was Chancellor of Germany from mid-1930 to mid-1932. Brüning was the centrist politician most associated with the economic collapse of Weimar Germany during the Great Depression, thanks to his ‘liberal’ policies of stubborn fiscal conservatism. He sought to balance the Budget at any cost. Germany and the world paid a very high cost indeed. I understand that the “unchecked liberalism” Hort refers to is the economic liberalism of Brüning and others (think today’s neoliberalism), and not so much the social liberalism of Berlin that was an icon of 1920s’ Germany. (As a part of that social liberalism, Germany in 1918 – Germany’s first annus horribilis last century – became a proper democracy, with proportional representation, and votes for women.)
I would imagine that Hort’s parents would have voted for Bruning’s Zentrum (Centre) party. While it started as a Catholic party, it was actually the foundation party of German ‘Christian Democracy’, having already broadened its base by 1930. Westphalia, Düsseldorf and Cologne represented the West German heartland of centrist Christian Democratic politics. And consistently these places cast the fewest votes for Adolf Hitler’s party. (The city of Cologne, the least-Nazi-supporting city in Germany, was the first large German urban centre to be carpet-bombed by the British, in 1942.)
Nevertheless, at least in March 1933, young Herr Theodor probably voted for the National Socialists. (Although his “great leader” epithet was probably a direct translation of ‘führer’ rather than an expression of devotion.) The Enabling Act of 1933, which ended democracy in Germany, had been in force for three months before Herr Hort wrote this letter. He, like many others in a desperate country, was willing to forego democracy if other goals might better be achieved without it. Further, by 1938, Hitlernomics – borrowing ‘as much as it takes’ to re-arm and reorganise along Spartan lines – was looking like a great success. (Something suspiciously similar took place in the Bundestag in 2025, exactly 92 years after the Enabling Act, using the outvoted ‘lame-duck’ parliament to get the necessary two-thirds majority. This time it was the ‘fascists’ – AFD – who were against borrowing to re-arm; and the outvoted fastidiously-anti-borrowing neoliberal FDP, who should not have been there.)
Finally, here, we should note that Germany as a whole – and certainly western Germany – while Judeophobic, was probably no more Judeophobic than other European countries (including the USA); and that most German Jews, to 1918 at least, had seen themselves as more Germans than Semites, and played a significant role in the German armed forces in World War One. The circumstances of 1918, however, made it a relatively easy task for would-be-politicians with nationalist agendas to scapegoat Jews. There were vastly more Jews living in the countries east of Germany, and they from 1940 to 1944 ended up being very much in the wrong place at the wrong time. In Germany in 1933, ‘Jewish’ identity was used very much as proxies for the twin-devils who many Germans believed had ‘stabbed Germany in the back’ in 1918 (at a time when Germany appeared to be winning on the western front) and again in (and around) 1931; ‘Bolshevik’ Communists and big-finance capitalists. The 1918 claim of a ‘stolen war’ was an evidentially-false conspiracy theory which had the appearance of credibility to many desperate people looking for simple answers, and scapegoats.
On the Bolshevik matter, while Theodor Hort and others will not have known about it until much later – the winter of 1932/33 was the peak of the Holodomor where four million mainly-Ukrainians were deliberately starved to death by Josef Stalin’s Moscow-based regime. Too many elements of the western press were looking the other way. Soviet Communism was being romanticised in certain middle-class and working-class circles in ‘the West’ (though demonised in others: refer Three Women who Launched a Movement); the mega-atrocities were downplayed by mainstream journalists such as Walter Duranty.
It was the full discovery in 1939 of the Holodomor and the later Great Purge(s) that enabled the Nazis to contemplate an even worse genocide, a substantial part of which became the Shoah. The Shoah, while the worst genocide ever, was neither the first nor the last real-world example of ‘hunger games’ in the last 100 years.
*******
Keith Rankin (keith at rankin dot nz), trained as an economic historian, is a retired lecturer in Economics and Statistics. He lives in Auckland, New Zealand.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Rachel Fitzgerald, Associate Professor and Deputy Associate Dean (Academic), Faculty of Business, Economics and Law, The University of Queensland
Artificial intelligence is rapidly becoming an everyday part of lives. Many of us use it without even realising, whether it be writing emails, finding a new TV show or managing smart devices in our homes.
But apart from a handful of computing-focused and other STEM programs, most Australian university students do not receive formal tuition in how to use AI critically, ethically or responsibly.
Here’s why this is a problem and what we can do instead.
But this does not teach students how these tools work or what responsible use involves.
Using AI is not as simple as typing questions into a chat function. There are widely recognised ethical issues around its use including bias and misinformation. Understanding these is essential for students to use AI responsibly in their working lives.
So all students should graduate with a basic understanding of AI, its limitations, the role of human judgement and what responsible use looks like in their particular field.
We need students to be aware of bias in AI systems. This includes how their own biases could shape how they use the AI (the questions they ask and how they interpret its output), alongside an understanding of the broader ethical implications of AI use.
For example, does the data and the AI tool protect people’s privacy? Has the AI made a mistake? And if so, whose responsibility is that?
What about AI ethics?
The technical side of AI is covered in many STEM degrees. These degrees, along with philosophy and psychology disciplines, may also examine ethical questions around AI. But these issues are not a part of mainstream university education.
This is a concern. When future lawyers use predictive AI to draft contracts, or business graduates use AI for hiring or marketing, they will need skills in ethical reasoning.
Ethical issues in these scenarios could include unfair bias, like AI recommending candidates based on gender or race. It could include issues relating to a lack of transparency, such as not knowing how an AI system made a legal decision. Students need to be able to spot and question these risks before they cause harm.
In healthcare, AI tools are already supporting diagnosis, patient triage and treatment decisions.
For example, if a teacher relies on AI carelessly to draft a lesson plan, students might learn a version of history that is biased or just plain wrong. A lawyer who over-relies on AI could submit a flawed court document, putting their client’s case at risk.
How can we do this?
There are international examples we can follow. The University of Texas at Austin and University of Edinburgh both offer programs in ethics and AI. However, both of these are currently targeted at graduate students. The University of Texas program is focused on teaching STEM students about AI ethics, whereas the University of Edinburgh’s program has a broader, interdiscplinary focus.
Implementing AI ethics in Australian universities will require thoughtful curriculum reform. That means building interdisciplinary teaching teams that combine expertise from technology, law, ethics and the social sciences. It also means thinking seriously about how we engage students with this content through core modules, graduate capabilities or even mandatory training.
It will also require investment in academic staff development and new teaching resources that make these concepts accessible and relevant to different disciplines.
Government support is essential. Targeted grants, clear national policy direction, and nationally shared teaching resources could accelerate the shift. Policymakers could consider positioning universities as “ethical AI hubs”. This aligns with the government-commissioned 2024 Australian University Accord report, which called for building capacity to meet the demands of the digital era.
Today’s students are tomorrow’s decision-makers. If they don’t understand the risks of AI and its potential for error, bias or threats to privacy, we will all bear the consequences. Universities have a public responsibility to ensure graduates know how to use AI responsibly and understand why their choices matter.
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.
One of Aotearoa New Zealand’s oldest settlement sites is at risk of being washed away by rising seas, according to new research.
Te Pokohiwi o Kupe (Wairau Bar) near Blenheim is a nationally significant archaeological site. It dates back to the first arrival of people and holds the remains of first-generation Polynesian settlers as well as many cultural artefacts.
The site is significant for the local iwi, Rangitāne o Wairau, because of its history of colonial exploitation and the eventual repatriation of koiwi tangata (ancestral remains) in 2009, which marks an important moment in the modern history of Rangitāne.
Coastal flooding is already a hazard at Te Pokohiwi o Kupe, but this increases dramatically as sea level rises. The study, led by Te Rūnanga a Rangitāne o Wairau in partnership with researchers at Earth Sciences NZ, shows about 20% of the site could be inundated during a 100-year storm event under current sea levels.
But with 50 centimetres of climate-driven sea-level rise, which could occur as soon as the 2050s under high-emissions scenarios, more than half of the site could flood in the same event. If sea levels rise to a metre, which could be reached during the early 2100s, three-quarters of the site will be inundated and subject to significant erosion.
From grave robbers to collaborators
During the first part of the 20th century, the site was raided by fossickers searching for curios. In 1939, they uncovered an urupa (cemetery) and disinterred the remains of one of the earliest ancestors, along with their sperm whale tooth necklace and moa egg.
Further “discoveries” drew Roger Duff, then an ethnologist at the Canterbury Museum, to the site in 1942. He led several excavations until the summer of 1963-64.
The Rangitāne community protested the excavations. Tribal elder Hohua Peter MacDonald was particularly vocal, but the tribe was unable to prevent the digs and the removal of ancestors and their burial goods.
In 2003, Rangitāne presented their Treaty of Waitangi claims before the Waitangi Tribunal. The tribunal agreed the Crown had breached the treaty in its dealings with the tribe and subsequent negotiations saw land at Te Pokohiwi returned to Rangitāne. These land parcels were close to where ancestors had been taken and the remains were eventually returned in 2009.
Prior to the repatriation, the University of Otago, Canterbury Museum and Rangitāne agreed that research, including genetic sequencing of the koiwi tangata and an archaeological survey of the site, would take place before the reburial. Due to their past experiences, Rangitāne had little trust in the scholastic community. But in a first of its kind, a memorandum of understanding was signed between the parties.
Before the reburial of the koiwi tangata, the iwi agreed to genetic sequencing and an archaeological survey of the site. Veronika Meduna, CC BY-SA
Maintaining connections
Our study used high-resolution, local-scale analysis of sea-level rise and coastal change to assess the risk to archaeological taonga (treasures) and wāhi tapu (sacred sites) at Te Pokohiwi o Kupe.
Results suggest climate-driven shoreline changes and permanent inundation will increasingly threaten this culturally and archaeologically significant site.
While this research focused on relative and extreme sea-level inundation risks, earlier palaeo-tsunami studies show the area is also known to be exposed to tsunami hazards.
Ongoing research supported by a Natural Hazards Commission grant seeks to expand on our findings by integrating multiple inundation types with iwi-led experiences of impacts and mitigation. The goal is to develop new inclusive approaches for quantifying the effects of compounding inundation hazards.
The integrated place-based approach underpinning this research supports dialogue about adaptation and rescue options for protecting sacred sites threatened by climate change through a combination of locally led and nationally supported interventions.
For Rangitāne, Te Pokohiwi o Kupe is a place where relationships are maintained, responsibilities upheld and identity reaffirmed. While its archaeological value is widely recognised, its deeper significance lies in the enduring connection Rangitāne maintain with the whenua (land) and with the stories, knowledge and obligations it carries.
Over time, the nature of that relationship has evolved. What was once marked by protest and exclusion has shifted into a place of active management and leadership, in part supported through the return of the land as part of the iwi’s treaty settlement.
Now, with growing threats posed by sea-level rise and coastal erosion, that connection faces a different kind of challenge. The concern is not only for what may be physically lost, but for what it might mean to lose the ability to stand in that place, to gather there and to sustain the relationship that has grounded generations of Rangitāne people in Wairau.
The focus is not only on preserving what remains, but on ensuring the connection to Te Pokohiwi continues, even as the landscape changes. More than protecting a site, this is about protecting the ability of Rangitāne to remain in meaningful relationship with Te Pokohiwi o Kupe, its stories and its significance.
Peter N. Meihana is a trustee of Te Runanga a Rangitāne o Wairau.
Ongoing research is supported through the Natural Hazards Commission (Toka Tū Ake EQC Project No. 4045).
Corey Hebberd 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.
Barbie has done many things since she first appeared in 1959. She’s been an astronaut, a doctor, a president and even a palaeontologist. Now, in 2025, Barbie is something else: a woman with type 1 diabetes.
Mattel’s latest Barbie was recently launched by Lila Moss, a British model who lives with type 1 diabetes. The doll comes with a visible insulin pump and a continuous glucose monitor, devices many people with diabetes rely on.
To some people, this might seem like just another version of the doll. But to kids living with type 1 diabetes – especially young girls – it’s a big deal. This new Barbie is not just a toy. It’s about being seen.
What is type 1 diabetes?
Type 1 diabetes is a condition where the body stops making insulin, the hormone that helps control blood sugar levels.
It’s not caused by lifestyle or diet. It’s an autoimmune condition (a disorder where the immune system mistakenly attacks healthy cells) and often starts in childhood.
People with type 1 diabetes need to take insulin every day, often through multiple injections or an insulin pump. They also need to check their blood sugar regularly, using finger pricks or a continuous glucose monitor worn on the skin (usually the upper arm).
Although type 1 diabetes can be effectively managed, there is no cure.
Children with type 1 diabetes may wear a continuous glucose monitor. Pavel Danilyuk/Pexels
Managing type 1 diabetes isn’t easy for children
Young people with type 1 diabetes must think about their condition every day – at school, during sports, at sleepovers and even while playing. They may have to stop what they’re doing and check their blood sugar levels. It can feel isolating and frustrating.
Stigma is a big issue for children and young people with type 1 diabetes. Some young people feel embarrassed using their insulin pumps or checking their blood sugar in public. One study found pre-teens with diabetes sometimes felt they received unwanted attention when using devices such as insulin pumps and glucose monitors.
Seeing a Barbie with an insulin pump and glucose monitor could make a significant difference.
Children form their sense of identity early, and toys play a surprisingly powerful role in that process. While children with type 1 diabetes can often feel different from their peers, toys can help normalise their experience and reduce the sense of isolation that can come with managing a chronic condition.
For girls especially, Barbie is more than a doll. She represents what is often perceived to be admired or desirable and this can influence how girls perceive their own bodies. A Barbie with a glucose monitor and insulin pump sends a clear message: this is part of real life. You’re not alone.
That kind of visibility is empowering. It tells children their condition doesn’t define them or limit their potential. It also helps challenge outdated stereotypes about illness and disability.
Some may worry a doll with a medical condition might make playtime too serious or scary. But in reality, play is how kids learn about the world. Toys that reflect real life – including health issues – can help children process emotions, ask questions, reduce fear and feel more in control.
A broader shift towards inclusivity and representation
Mattel’s new Barbie shows diabetes and the devices needed to manage the condition in a positive, everyday way, and that matters. It can start conversations and help kids without diabetes learn what those devices are and why someone wears them. It builds understanding early.
Mattel has added to its range of Barbies in recent years to showcase the beauty that everyone has. There are now Barbies with a wide range of skin tones, hair textures, body types and disabilities – including dolls with hearing aids, vitiligo (loss of skin pigmentation) and wheelchairs. The diabetes Barbie is part of this broader shift toward inclusivity and should be applauded.
Every child should be able to find toys that reflect who they are, and the people they love.
This Barbie won’t make diabetes go away. But she might help a child feel more seen, more confident, more like their peers. She might help a classmate understand that a glucose monitor isn’t scary – it’s just something some people need. She might make a school nurse’s job easier when explaining to teachers or students how to support a student with diabetes.
Living with type 1 diabetes as a child is tough. Anything that helps kids feel a little more included, and a little less different, is worth celebrating. A doll might seem small. But to the right child, at the right moment, it could mean everything.
Lynne Chepulis receives funding from the Health Research Council of New Zealand
Anna Serlachius receives funding from the Health Research Council and Breakthrough T1D (formerly JDRF).
Earlier this month, the Federal Court found controversial Muslim cleric Wissam Haddad breached the Racial Discrimination Act.
Justice Angus Stewart ruled a series of speeches Haddad posted online were “fundamentally racist and antisemitic [and] profoundly offensive” towards Jewish people in Australia.
However, the court also ruled criticism of Israel, Zionism and the Israel Defense Forces are not antisemitic and therefore do not breach the law.
This finding could help inform the current debate on how to define antisemitism in Australia.
Antisemitism and the law
Haddad’s sermons were found to include “perverse generalisations” about Jewish Australians made at a time of “heightened vulnerability” following the October 7 2023 attacks on Israel by Hamas.
The court’s decision is based on provisions in the Racial Discrimination Act.
The act applies equally to all racial and ethnic groups in Australia. It does not refer directly to antisemitism, nor does it prohibit it specifically.
But Jewish people have been recognised as a distinct ethnic group protected by the act since 2002. As such, several successful court cases have been brought by Australian Jews under the laws.
To breach the act, speech must be likely to “offend, insult, humiliate or intimidate” a reasonable member of the target group – in this case, Jewish people in Australia. Trivial or minor harms do not meet this standard.
Also, the speech must have been done “because of” the race or ethnicity of the target group. This means the race or ethnicity of the person or group must be one of the reasons for the speech.
The law protects against racial discrimination, which includes ethnicity. It does not prohibit religious discrimination. However, for Jews, Sikhs and other ethno-religious groups there is some overlap.
There is no liability under the Racial Discrimination Act if the speech was done “reasonably and in good faith” for a “genuine purpose in the public interest”.
This is the free speech defence.
Other breaches of the RDA
In 2002, the Federal Court found the act was breached by a website that denied the extent and existence of the Jewish Holocaust.
The website’s creator, Frederick Toben, claimed the content was true and its publication was in the public interest. However, the language used by Toben was deliberately provocative. His clear intention to offend Jewish people meant no defence was available.
In September 2023, a Melbourne secondary college breached the act by allowing Jewish students to be systematically bullied and harassed, including through the use of racial epithets and Nazi swastikas.
The court took into account the intergenerational trauma experienced by students whose families were affected by the Holocaust. The school was ordered to pay compensation to the students totalling more than $400,000.
Criticism of Israel does not breach the law
Crucially, in the recent Haddad decision, the court stated “it is not antisemitic to criticise Israel”.
Parts of a speech made by Haddad that referred directly to the conduct of Israel and the Israel Defense Forces did not breach the Racial Discrimination Act because they could not reasonably be regarded as referring to Jewish people.
Further, references in the speech to Zionism were regarded by the court as referring to a political ideology, rather than Jewish ethnicity.
However, the court did recognise that criticism of Zionism and Israel was sometimes coded, or included subtle references to Jewish identity.
Under the act, courts must carefully consider the context of relevant speech, including the tone and language used. That means blaming Jewish people for the actions of Israel or the Israeli military, for example, could in fact breach the law.
Antisemitism definition
The Federal Court’s decision in the Haddad case preceded the proposed antisemitism strategy by Jillian Segal, the government’s special envoy on combating hatred against Jewish people.
Her report recommends the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s definition of antisemitism be embedded in all public institutions.
The definition is controversial because it appears to conflate criticism of Israel with racial and ethnic prejudice. Concerns have been raised legitimate criticism of Israel and its government would be stifled if the definition was widely embraced.
A version of the definition was adopted in February by Universities Australia, the governing body for Australian universities.
Some universities have rejected the definition on the grounds it may restrict legitimate academic freedom on campus.
No defence available to Haddad
Haddad argued his speeches were justified because they were based on Islamic scriptures. However, after weighing up expert evidence, the court found denigrating Jewish people was not supported by scripture.
The speeches were not made “reasonably and in good faith”, given Haddad had used inflammatory language. He further “courted controversy” by also maligning Christians and Hindus.
As the speeches were no more than “bigoted polemic”, no conflict between religious freedom and the Racial Discrimination Act arose.
In summary, Haddad breached the act by making profoundly offensive speeches regarding Jewish people in Australia.
The court ordered the sermons be removed from social media, while Haddad was ordered not to repeat them.
The decision clarifies that antisemitic speech is prohibited by the discrimination laws, although criticism of Israel is not.
Bill Swannie 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.