The Axiom Mission 4 (Ax-4), a landmark private spaceflight to the International Space Station (ISS), will launch on Wednesday from Florida’s Kennedy Space Center.
Axiom Space, in collaboration with NASA and SpaceX, organised the mission, which features a diverse international crew and marks a major step forward in commercial and global space exploration.
Scheduled to lift off at 2:31 a.m. EDT (12:01 p.m. IST) from NASA’s Kennedy Space Center in Florida, the mission will transport four astronauts aboard SpaceX’s Dragon spacecraft, propelled into orbit by a Falcon 9 rocket. Docking with the ISS is expected at around 7:00 a.m. EDT (4:30 p.m. IST) on Thursday, June 26.
“All systems are looking good for Wednesday’s launch of @Axiom_Space’s Ax-4 mission to the @Space_Station and weather is 90 per cent favorable for liftoff. Webcast starts at 12:30 a.m.” SpaceX posted on X ahead of the launch.
Among the crew is Indian astronaut Shubhanshu Shukla, representing ISRO, who will serve as the mission’s pilot. He is joined by veteran NASA astronaut Peggy Whitson, ESA astronaut Sławosz Uznanski-Wisniewski from Poland, and Tibor Kapu from Hungary. For India, Hungary, and Poland, this mission signifies a return to human spaceflight after a long hiatus.
Earlier on Tuesday NASA confirmed the final schedule via its official X handle, “With @Axiom_Spaceand @SpaceX, we’re now targeting Wednesday, June 25, to launch #Ax4 to the @Space_Station. The four-member crew, including astronauts from @ESA and @ISRO, is scheduled to lift off at 2:31am ET (0631 UTC).”
Axiom-4 has experienced multiple delays leading up to Wednesday’s launch. Initial postponements were due to unfavourable weather conditions, followed by technical issues, including detected leaks in the Falcon 9 rocket. After a thorough review and resolution of the problems, the launch was cleared.
This is the fourth private astronaut mission to the ISS under Axiom Space’s expanding program, signalling growing international interest in commercial space missions and partnerships.
A reservoir to be built near Carterton will be a game-changer for the town and wider Wairarapa region, Regional Development Minister Shane Jones says. The 20ha reservoir, which will hold up to 1 million m3, will provide water for industry at Waingawa Industrial Park and irrigation for land. “Water resilience has been identified as a regional priority for Wairarapa. A lack of water security is holding back development limiting current land-use options. “The reservoir is game-changing for this region and will be key infrastructure for Wairarapa’s resilience to extreme weather, including drought,” Mr Jones says. Carterton District Council has been granted an initial loan of up to $3 million from the Regional Infrastructure Fund for preparatory work. A further $17m loan will be available from the fund for construction once a final model is confirmed. The total project cost is budgeted at $25m, with the council contributing $5m of co-funding. “This investment in water infrastructure aligns with the Coalition Government’s Going for Growth strategy and its objective to double exports by 2034,” Mr Jones says. The reservoir is expected to bring jobs and more economic activity to existing and new industries at Waingawa Industrial Park. The project will also increase agriculture production on nearby land, with a 50 per cent increase in crop yield predicted. It will allow pastoral land to be converted to higher-value horticultural land. “The Government’s investment in water is addressing barriers to development in regions like Wairarapa where a consistent water source is needed to unlock economic, environmental and recreational resources for its communities,” Mr Jones says.
Press Conference: Energy Transition Index 2025 – From Climate Commitment to Economic Opportunity
Now in its 15th year, the Fostering Effective Energy Transition 2025 report tracks global progress towards a more secure, equitable and sustainable energy system. Join us for insights into the top performers of the Energy Transition Index 2025 and strategies to advance energy transitions that drive economic opportunity amid rising global uncertainty.
‘Fake News’: Trump slams CNN, NYT for reports stating US strikes did not destroy Iranian nuclear sites
US President Donald Trump has slammed CNN for its report suggesting that the US strikes did not destroy nuclear sites in Iran. Trump said CNN, along with The New York Times, teamed up to “demean one of the most successful military strikes in history” and termed it “fake news.”
He reiterated his claim that the US has completely destroyed nuclear sites in Iran. According to him, both the media outlets faced backlash from the people.
In a statement shared on his social media platform Truth Social, Trump stated, “FAKE NEWS CNN, TOGETHER WITH THE FAILING NEW YORK TIMES, HAVE TEAMED UP IN AN ATTEMPT TO DEMEAN ONE OF THE MOST SUCCESSFUL MILITARY STRIKES IN HISTORY. THE NUCLEAR SITES IN IRAN ARE COMPLETELY DESTROYED! BOTH THE TIMES AND CNN ARE GETTING SLAMMED BY THE PUBLIC!”
The findings, first reported by CNN, citing seven individuals briefed on the assessments, noted that the early evaluation from the Defence Intelligence Agency (DIA) suggested that the attacks only caused a temporary disruption, possibly setting Tehran’s nuclear program back by a few months.
The findings based on a battle damage assessment by US Central Command contradict public claims made by US President Trump and Defence Secretary Pete Hegseth, who asserted that the US “completely obliterated” Iran’s nuclear capabilities, CNN reported.
As per CNN, citing intelligence sources, the centrifuges in Iran’s nuclear facilities remain mostly functional, and enriched uranium stockpiles were likely moved before the strikes.
The US strikes targeted Iran’s Fordow, Natanz, and Isfahan nuclear sites, which inflicted heavy damage to above-ground structures, such as power infrastructure and facilities involved in uranium metal conversion, but failed to neutralise Iran’s underground enrichment systems, as reported by CNN.
As per CNN, citing officials, the US used its B-2 bombers that dropped over a dozen 30,000-pound bunker-buster bombs during the assault; underground components remained largely intact.
Israel, which conducted their own strikes before the US operation, also found less damage at Fordow than anticipated; however, it was earlier believed that the combined efforts may delay Iran’s nuclear ambitions by up to two years, as reported by CNN. The long-standing doubts over whether the US’s Massive Ordnance Penetrators could penetrate Iran’s deeply buried nuclear sites.
Earlier on Tuesday (local time), Trump has stated that Iran will “never be able to rebuild” its nuclear facilities after recent American airstrikes carried out under “Operation Midnight Hammer” over the weekend while claiming that the sites were now “under rock”, referring to Iran’s nuclear facilities at Fordow, Natanz, and Isfahan. Taking to his social media platform, Truth Social, Trump wrote, “IRAN WILL NEVER REBUILD THEIR NUCLEAR FACILITIES!”
Source: People’s Republic of China in Russian – People’s Republic of China in Russian –
Source: People’s Republic of China – State Council News
BEIJING, June 25 (Xinhua) — A press conference on the 11th China-Russia Border Culture Festival was held in Tongjiang City, northeast China’s Heilongjiang Province, to actively promote the Belt and Road Initiative and the theme of China-Russia Cross-Cultural Years exchanges. The event aims to deeply unleash the potential of cultural, sports and trade cooperation between China and Russia, and comprehensively showcase Tongjiang’s tourism resources, cultural characteristics and development achievements.
Speaking at a press conference, Zhang Zhimei, Director of the Tongjiang Department of Culture, Sports, Radio, Television and Tourism, said that the city will host the 11th China-Russia Border Culture Festival from June to August 2025. The festival will showcase Tongjiang’s advantages through four thematic blocks: “Government-business meetings to promote cooperation”, “Cultural dialogue to deepen exchanges”, “Trade synergy for industrial prosperity” and “Sports and tourism integration in a dynamic borderland”, including 24 key events.
The city has developed 6 tourist routes and a series of thematic products for deep immersion in the unique atmosphere of the borderland. 29 cultural and tourist sites have been modernized, 50 new photo zones have been created, and the landscaping of a 5-kilometer section of the picturesque border route and 22 adjacent villages has been completed. Particular attention is paid to the development of cross-border tourism, educational tours and other new directions, guaranteeing guests a safe and rich vacation.
Representatives of city departments answered questions from journalists and Internet users regarding the presentation of city attractions, the organization of unique events, the development of cross-border tourism and the modernization of tourist facilities. -0-
Source: People’s Republic of China in Russian – People’s Republic of China in Russian –
Source: People’s Republic of China – State Council News
TIANJIN, June 25 (Xinhua) — Chinese Premier Li Qiang said on Wednesday that the international economic and trade landscape is undergoing profound changes.
Li Qiang made the remarks while speaking at the opening ceremony of the 16th annual meeting of emerging global leaders of the World Economic Forum (WEF), also known as “Summer Davos”, in the northern Chinese city of Tianjin. -0-
Source: People’s Republic of China in Russian – People’s Republic of China in Russian –
Source: People’s Republic of China – State Council News
TIANJIN, June 25 (Xinhua) — Chinese Premier Li Qiang on Wednesday called on the international community to take more constructive actions in global economic and trade cooperation.
Li Qiang made the remarks while speaking at the opening ceremony of the World Economic Forum’s 16th annual meeting of emerging global leaders, also known as “Summer Davos,” in the northern Chinese city of Tianjin. -0-
Source: People’s Republic of China in Russian – People’s Republic of China in Russian –
Source: People’s Republic of China – State Council News
TIANJIN, June 25 (Xinhua) — Chinese Premier Li Qiang said Wednesday that China is willing to share its original technologies and innovative scenarios with the world.
Li Qiang made the remarks while speaking at the opening ceremony of the 16th annual meeting of emerging global leaders of the World Economic Forum (WEF), also known as “Summer Davos”, in the northern Chinese city of Tianjin. -0-
Source: People’s Republic of China in Russian – People’s Republic of China in Russian –
Source: People’s Republic of China – State Council News
HELSINKI, June 25 (Xinhua) — Finland has completed the second section of the fence on its eastern border with Russia, Finnish broadcaster Yle reported on Tuesday, citing the Finnish Border Guard.
The newly constructed section is reportedly located in the Kainuu area and consists of eight segments, approximately 18 km long. The first 35-kilometer section was previously completed.
Finland’s parliament approved the fence project in 2022, with plans to eventually cover about 200km of the country’s 1,300km border with Russia. Construction began in 2023, with each section including a steel lattice, a service road, a cleared buffer zone and a technical surveillance system.
The Kainuu section has been technologically upgraded compared to the original pilot segment built near the southeastern city of Imatra. According to Yle, these upgrades include an artificial intelligence (AI) surveillance system that can differentiate between people and animals to reduce false alarms, and a loudspeaker system that allows remote communication with people near the fence.
Meanwhile, all land checkpoints between Finland and Russia have been closed since December 2023 in accordance with a series of government decisions. –0–
Source: People’s Republic of China in Russian – People’s Republic of China in Russian –
Source: People’s Republic of China – State Council News
TIANJIN, June 25 (Xinhua) — Chinese Premier Li Qiang delivered a keynote speech at the opening ceremony of the 16th Annual Meeting of Emerging Global Leaders of the World Economic Forum (WEF), also known as “Summer Davos,” in the north Chinese metropolis of Tianjin on Wednesday.
The event, titled “Entrepreneurial Spirit for a New Era,” is being held from June 24 to 26 and is bringing together more than 1,700 leading figures from over 90 countries and regions to discuss issues such as stimulating the entrepreneurial spirit and harnessing new technologies to unleash new momentum for global growth. -0-
Source: Hong Kong Government special administrative region
Following is a question by Dr the Hon Tik Chi-yuen and a written reply by the Acting Secretary for Financial Services and the Treasury, Mr Joseph Chan, in the Legislative Council today (June 25):
Source: United States Navy (Logistics Group Western Pacific)
Issued by: on
NUKU’ALOFA, Tonga (June 23, 2025) Lt. Cmdr. Derek Gresko conducts an eye exam for a local resident at Vaiola Hospital as part of Pacific Partnership 2025 (PP-25) in Nuku’alofa, Tonga, June 23, 2025. PP-25 medical teams are providing free eye exams and prescription glasses at Vaiola Hospital and Mu’a Health Center while in Nuku’alofa, Tonga. Now in its 21st iteration, the Pacific Partnership series is the largest annual multinational humanitarian assistance and disaster management preparedness mission conducted in the Indo-Pacific. Pacific Partnership works collaboratively with host and partner nations to enhance regional interoperability and disaster response capabilities, increase security and stability in the region, and foster new and enduring friendships in the Indo-Pacific. (U.S. Navy photo by Courtesy Asset)
Source: United States Navy (Logistics Group Western Pacific)
Issued by: on
Virac, Philippines (June 3, 2025) – Hawaii National Guard Spc. Elvis Salinas and personnel from the Armed Forces of the Philippines Disaster Response Unit instruct local emergency responders and civilian authorities on knot-tying techniques used in rappelling during a training session in Virac, Philippines, June 3, 2025. This effort is part of a two-week urban rescue training exercise supporting the humanitarian assistance and disaster response objectives of Pacific Partnership 2025. Now in its 21st iteration, Pacific Partnership series is the largest annual multinational humanitarian assistance and disaster management preparedness mission conducted in the Indo-Pacific. Pacific Partnership works collaboratively with host and partner nations to enhance regional interoperability and disaster response capabilities, increase security and stability in the region, and foster new and enduring friendships in the Indo-Pacific. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Jordan Jennings)
The more we learn about orcas, the more remarkable they are. These giant dolphins are the ocean’s true apex predator, preying on great white sharks and other lesser predators.
They’re very intelligent and highly social. Their clans are matrilineal, centred around a older matriarch who teaches her clan her own vocalisations. Not only this, but the species is one of only six known to experience menopause, pointing to the social importance of older females after their reproductive years. Different orca groups have fashion trends, such as one pod who returned to wearing salmon as a hat, decades after it went out of vogue.
But for all their intelligence, one thing has been less clear. Can orcas actually make tools, as humans, chimps and other primates do? In research out today by United States and British researchers, we have an answer: yes.
Using drones, researchers watched as resident pods in the Salish Sea broke off the ends of bull kelp stalks and rolled them between their bodies. This, the researchers say, is likely to be a grooming practice – the first tool-assisted grooming seen in marine animals.
This video shows whales using kelp tools in what appears to be social grooming behaviour. Credit: Center for Whale Research.
Self kelp: why would orcas make tools?
Tool use and tool making have been well documented in land-based species. But it’s less common among marine species. This could be partly due to the challenge of observing them.
This field of research expands what we know these animals are capable of. Not only are orcas spending time making kelp into a grooming tool, but they’re doing it socially – two orcas have to work together to rub the kelp against their bodies.
To make the tool, the orcas use their teeth to grab a stalk of kelp by its “stipe” – the long, narrow part near the seaweed’s holdfast, where it tethers to the rock. They use their teeth, motion of their body and the drag of the kelp to break off a piece of this narrow stipe.
Next, they approach a social partner, flip the length of the kelp onto their rostrum (their snout-like projection) and press their head and the kelp against their partner’s flank. The two orcas use their fins and flukes to trap the kelp while rolling it between their bodies. During this contact, the orcas would roll and twist their bodies – often in an exaggerated S-shaped posture. A similar posture has been seen among orcas in other groups, who adopt it when rubbing themselves on sand or pebbles.
Why do it? The researchers suggest this practise may be social skin-maintenance. Bottlenose dolphin mothers are known to remove dead skin from their calves using flippers, while tool-assisted grooming of a partner has been seen in primates, but infrequently and usually in captivity.
Orcas across different social groups, ages and genders were seen doing this. But they were more likely to groom close relatives or those of similar age. There was some evidence suggesting whales with skin conditions were more likely to do the kelp-based grooming.
Humpback whales are known to wear kelp in a practice known as “kelping”. But this study covers a different behaviour, which the authors dub “allokelping” (kelping others).
A surprise from well-studied pods
Interestingly, this new discovery comes from some of the most well-studied and famous orcas in the world – a group known as the southern resident killer whales. If you were a child of the 90s, you would have seen them in the opening scene of Free Willy, the movie which set me on my path to study cetaceans.
These orcas consist of three pods known as J, K and L pods. Each live in the Salish Sea in the Pacific Northwest on the border of Canada and the US.
Researchers fly drones over these resident pods most days and have access to almost 50 years of observations. But this is the first time the tool-making behaviour has been seen.
Unfortunately, these pods are critically endangered. They’re threatened by sound pollution from shipping, polluted water, vessel strike and loss of their main food source – Chinook salmon.
A pod of killer whales off Vancouver, Canada. Vanessa Pirotta, CC BY-NC-ND
Orcas are smart
In one sense, the findings are not a surprise, given the intelligence of these animals.
In the Antarctic, orcas catch seals by making waves to wash them off ice floes. Before European colonisation, orcas and First Nations groups near Eden hunted whales together.
While orcas are often called “killer whales”, they’re not whales. They’re the biggest species of dolphin, growing up to nine metres long. They’re found across all the world’s oceans.
Within the species, there’s a surprising amount of diversity. Scientists group orcas into different ecotypes – populations adapted to local conditions. Different orca groups can differ substantially, from size to prey to habits. For instance, transient orcas cover huge distances seeking larger prey, while resident orcas stick close to areas with lots of fish.
Not just a fluke
Because orcas differ so much, we don’t know whether other pods have discovered or taught these behaviours.
But what this research does point to is that tool making may be more common among marine mammals than we expected. No hands – no problem.
Vanessa Pirotta does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Imagine watching your favourite nature documentary. The predator lunges rapidly from its hiding place, jaws wide open, and the prey … suddenly goes limp. It looks dead.
For some animals, this freeze response – called “tonic immobility” – can be a lifesaver. Possums famously “play dead” to avoid predators. So do rabbits, lizards, snakes, and even some insects.
But what happens when a shark does it?
In our recent study, we explored this strange behaviour in sharks, rays and their relatives. In this group, tonic immobility is triggered when the animal is turned upside down – it stops moving, its muscles relax, and it enters a trance-like state. Some scientists even use tonic immobility as a technique to safely handle certain shark species.
But why does it happen? And does it actually help these marine predators survive?
The mystery of the ‘frozen shark’
Despite being well documented across the animal kingdom, the reasons behind tonic immobility remain murky – especially in the ocean. It is generally thought of as an anti-predator defence. But there is no evidence to support this idea in sharks, and alternative hypotheses exist.
We tested 13 species of sharks, rays, and a chimaera — a shark relative commonly referred to as a ghost shark — to see whether they entered tonic immobility when gently turned upside down underwater.
Seven species did, but six did not. We then analysed these findings using evolutionary tools to map the behaviour across hundreds of million years of shark family history.
So, why do some sharks freeze?
Tonic immobility is triggered in sharks when they are turned upside down. Rachel Moore
Three main hypotheses
There are three main hypotheses to explain tonic immobility in sharks:
Anti-predator strategy – “playing dead” to avoid being eaten
Reproductive role – some male sharks invert females during mating, so perhaps tonic immobility helps reduce struggle
Sensory overload response – a kind of shutdown during extreme stimulation.
Our results don’t support any of these explanations.
There’s no strong evidence sharks benefit from freezing when attacked. In fact, modern predators such as orcas can use this response against sharks by flipping them over to immobilise them and then remove their nutrient-rich livers – a deadly exploit.
The reproductive hypothesis also falls short. Tonic immobility doesn’t differ between sexes, and remaining immobile could make females vulnerable to harmful or forced mating events.
And the sensory overload idea? Untested and unverified. So, we offer a simpler explanation. Tonic immobility in sharks is likely an evolutionary relic.
A case of evolutionary baggage
Our evolutionary analysis suggests tonic immobility is “plesiomorphic” – an ancestral trait that was likely present in ancient sharks, rays and chimaeras. But as species evolved, many lost the behaviour.
In fact, we found that tonic immobility was lost independently at least five times across different groups. Which raises the question: why?
In some environments, freezing might actually be a bad idea. Small reef sharks and bottom-dwelling rays often squeeze through tight crevices in complex coral habitats when feeding or resting. Going limp in such settings could get them stuck – or worse. That means losing this behaviour might have actually been advantageous in these lineages.
So, what does this all mean?
Rather than a clever survival tactic, tonic immobility might just be “evolutionary baggage” – a behaviour that once served a purpose, but now persists in some species simply because it doesn’t do enough harm to be selected against.
It’s a good reminder that not every trait in nature is adaptive. Some are just historical quirks.
Our work helps challenge long-held assumptions about shark behaviour, and sheds light on the hidden evolutionary stories still unfolding in the ocean’s depths. Next time you hear about a shark “playing dead”, remember – it might just be muscle memory from a very, very long time ago.
Jodie L. Rummer receives funding from the Australian Research Council. She is affiliated with the Australian Coral Reef Society, as President.
Joel Gayford receives funding from the Northcote Trust.
Shutting off the internet within an entire country is a serious action. It severely limits people’s ability to freely communicate and to find reliable information during times of conflict.
In countries that have privatised mobile and internet providers, control is often exercised through legislation or through government directives – such as age restrictions on adult content. By contrast, Iran has spent years developing the capacity to directly control its telecommunications infrastructure.
So how can a country have broad control over internet access, and could this happen anywhere in the world?
How does ‘blocking the internet’ work?
The “internet” is a broad term. It covers many types of applications, services and, of course, the websites we’re familiar with.
A nation may opt to physically disconnect the incoming internet connectivity at the point of entry to the country (imagine pulling the plug on a telephone exchange).
This allows for easy recovery of service when the government is ready, but the impact will be far-reaching. Nobody in the country, including the government itself, will be able to connect to the internet – unless the government has its own additional, covert connectivity to the rest of the world.
This is where it gets more technical. Every internet-connected endpoint – laptop, computer, mobile phone – has an IP (internet protocol) address. They’re strings of numbers; for example, 77.237.87.95 is an address assigned to one of the internet service providers in Iran.
IP addresses identify the device on the public internet. However, since strings of numbers are not easy to remember, humans use domain names to connect to services – theconversation.com is an example of a domain name.
That connection between the IP address and the domain is controlled by the domain name system or DNS. It’s possible for a government to control access to key internet services by modifying the DNS – this manipulates the connection between domain names and their underlying numeric addresses.
An additional way to control the internet involves manipulating the traffic flow. IP addresses allow devices to send and receive data across networks controlled by internet service providers. In turn, they rely on the border gateway protocol (BGP) – think of it like a series of traffic signs which direct internet traffic flow, allowing data to move around the world.
Governments could force local internet service providers to remove their BGP routes from the internet. As a result, the devices they service wouldn’t be able to connect to the internet. In the same manner, the rest of the world would no longer be able to “see” into the country.
These events clearly show that if a government anywhere in the world wants to turn off the internet, it really can. The democratic state of the country is the most significant influence on the willingness to undertake such action – not the technical capability.
However, in today’s world, being disconnected from the internet will heavily impact people’s lives, jobs and the economy. It’s not an action to be taken lightly.
How can people evade internet controls?
Virtual private networks or VPNs have long been used to hide communications in countries with strict internet controls, and continue to be an effective internet access method for many people. (However, there are indications Iran has clamped down on VPN use in recent times.)
However, VPNs won’t help when the internet is physically disconnected. Depending on configuration, if BGP routes are blocked, this may also prevent any VPN traffic from reaching the target.
This is where independent satellite internet services open up the most reliable alternative. Satellite internet is great for remote and rural areas where traditional internet service providers have yet to establish their cabling infrastructure – or can’t do so.
Even if traditional wired or wireless internet connections are unavailable, services such as Starlink, Viasat, Hughesnet and others can provide internet access through satellites orbiting Earth.
To use satellite internet, users rely on antenna kits supplied by providers. In Iran, Elon Musk’s Starlink was activated during the blackout, and independent reports suggest there are thousands of Starlink receivers secretly operating in the country.
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.
On June 21, the United States launched airstrikes on three Iranian nuclear facilities – Fordow, Natanz and Isfahan – pounding deeply buried centrifuge sites with bunker-busting bombs.
Conducted jointly with Israel, the operation took place without formal congressional authorisation, drawing sharp criticism from lawmakers that it was unconstitutional and “unlawful”.
Much of the political debate has centred on whether the US is being pulled into “another Middle East war”.
The New York Times’ Nick Kristof weighed in on the uncertainties following the US’ surprise bombing of Iran and Tehran’s retaliation.
Even US Vice President JD Vance understood the unease, stating:
People are right to be worried about foreign entanglement after the last 25 years of idiotic foreign policy.
These reactions have revived comparisons with George W. Bush’s 2003 invasion of Iraq: a Republican president launching military action on the basis of flimsy weapons of mass destruction (WMD) evidence.
Hauntingly familiar?
While the surface similarity is tempting, the comparison may in fact obscure more about President Donald Trump than it reveals.
Comparisons to the Iraq War
In 2003, Bush ordered a full-scale invasion of Iraq based on flawed intelligence, claiming Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein possessed WMDs. And while the war was extremely unpopular across the world, it did have bipartisan congressional support.
The invasion toppled Iraq’s regime in just a few weeks.
What followed was a brutal conflict and almost a decade of US occupation. The war triggered the rise of militant jihadism and a horrific sectarian conflict that reverberates today.
So far, Trump’s one-off strikes on Iran bear little resemblance to the 2003 Iraq intervention.
These were precision strikes within the context of a broader Iran-Israel war, designed to target Iran’s nuclear program.
And, so far, there appears to be little appetite for a full-scale military invasion or “boots on the ground”, and regime change seems unlikely despite some rumblings from both Trump and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.
Yet the comparison to Iraq persists, especially among audiences suspicious of repeated US military interventions in the Middle East. But poorly considered analogies carry costs.
For one, the Iraq comparison sheds little light on Trump’s foreign policy.
To better understand the recent strikes on Iran, we need to look at Trump’s broader foreign policy.
Much has been made of his “America first” mantra, a complex mix of prioritising domestic interests, questioning international agreements, and challenging traditional alliances.
Others, including Trump himself, have often touted his “no war” approach, pointing to large-scale military withdrawals from Afghanistan, Syria and Iraq,and the fact he had not started a new war.
But beyond this, Trump has increased US military spending and frequently used his office to conduct targeted strikes on adversaries – especially across the Middle East.
For example, in 2017 and 2018, Trump ordered airstrikes on a Syrian airbase and chemical weapons facilities. In both instances, he bypassed Congress and used precision air power to target weapons infrastructure without pursuing regime change.
Also, from 2017 to 2021, Trump authorised US support for the Saudi-led war in Yemen, enabling airstrikes that targeted militant cells but also led to mass civilian casualties.
Trump’s policy was the subject of intense bipartisan opposition, culminating in the first successful congressional invocation of the War Powers Resolution – though it was ultimately vetoed by Trump.
And in 2020, Trump launched a sequence of attacks on Iranian assets in Iraq. This included a drone strike that killed senior Iranian military commander Qassem Soleimani.
Again, these attacks were conducted without congressional support. The decision triggered intense bipartisan backlash and concerns about escalation without oversight.
While such attacks are not without precedent – think back to former US President Barack Obama’s intervention in Libya or Joe Biden’s targeting of terrorist assets – the scale and veracity of Trump’s attacks on the Middle East are much more useful as a framework to understanding the recent attacks on Iran than any reference to the 2003 Iraq war.
What this reveals about Trump
It is crucial to scrutinise any use of force. But while comparing the 2025 Iran strikes to Iraq in 2003 may be rhetorically powerful, it is analytically weak.
A better path is to situate these events within Trump’s broader political style.
He acts unilaterally and with near-complete impunity, disregarding traditional constraints and operating outside established norms and oversight.
This is just as true for attacks on foreign adversaries as it is for the domestic policy arena.
For example, Trump recently empowered agencies such as Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) to operate with sweeping discretion in immigration enforcement, bypassing legal and judicial oversight.
Trump also uses policy as spectacle, designed to send shockwaves through the domestic or foreign arenas and project dominance to both friend and foe.
In this way, Trump’s dramatic attacks on Iran have some parallels to his unilateral imposition of tariffs on international trade. Both are abrupt, disruptive and framed as a demonstration of strength rather than a way to create a mutually beneficial solution.
Finally, Trump is more than willing to use force as an instrument of power rather than as a last resort. This is just as true for Iran as it is for the US people.
The recent deployment of US Marines to quell protests in Los Angeles reveals a similar impulse: military intervention as a first instinct in the absence of a broader strategy to foster peace.
To truly understand and respond to Trump’s Iran strikes, we need to move beyond sensationalist analogies and recognise a more dangerous reality. This is not the start of another Iraq; it’s the continuation of a presidency defined by impulsive power, unchecked force and a growing disdain for democratic constraint.
Benjamin Isakhan receives funding from the Australian Research Council and the Australian Department of Defence. The views expressed in this article do not reflect those of Government policy.
After 12 days of war, US President Donald Trump announced a ceasefire between Israel and Iran that would bring to an end the most dramatic, direct conflict between the two nations in decades.
Israel and Iran both agreed to adhere to the ceasefire, though they said they would respond with force to any breach.
If the ceasefire holds – a big if – the key question will be whether this signals the start of lasting peace, or merely a brief pause before renewed conflict.
As contemporary war studies show, peace tends to endure under one of two conditions: either the total defeat of one side, or the establishment of mutual deterrence. This means both parties refrain from aggression because the expected costs of retaliation far outweigh any potential gains.
What did each side gain?
The war has marked a turning point for Israel in its decades-long confrontation with Iran. For the first time, Israel successfully brought a prolonged battle to Iranian soil, shifting the conflict from confrontations with Iranian-backed proxy militant groups to direct strikes on Iran itself.
This was made possible largely due to Israel’s success over the past two years in weakening Iran’s regional proxy network, particularly Hezbollah in Lebanon and Shiite militias in Syria.
Over the past two weeks, Israel has inflicted significant damage on Iran’s military and scientific elite, killing several high-ranking commanders and nuclear scientists. The civilian toll was also high.
Additionally, Israel achieved a major strategic objective by pulling the United States directly into the conflict. In coordination with Israel, the US launched strikes on three of Iran’s primary nuclear facilities: Fordow, Natanz and Isfahan.
Despite these gains, Israel has not accomplished all of its stated goals. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu had voiced support for regime change, urging Iranians to rise up against Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei’s government, but the senior leadership in Iran remains intact.
Although Iran was caught off-guard by Israel’s attacks — particularly as it was engaged in nuclear negotiations with the US — it responded by launching hundreds of missiles towards Israel.
Iran has demonstrated its capacity to strike back, though Israel has succeeded in destroying many of its air defence systems, some ballistic missile assets (including missile launchers) and multiple energy facilities.
Since the beginning of the assault, Iranian officials have repeatedly called for a halt to resume negotiations. Under such intense pressure, Iran has realised it would not benefit from a prolonged war of attrition with Israel — especially as both nations face mounting costs and the risk of depleting their military stockpiles if the war continues.
As theories of victory suggest, success in war is defined not only by the damage inflicted, but by achieving core strategic goals and weakening the enemy’s will and capacity to resist.
While Israel claims to have achieved the bulk of its objectives, the extent of the damage to Iran’s nuclear program is not fully known, nor is its capacity to continue enriching uranium.
Both sides could remain locked in a volatile standoff over Iran’s nuclear program, with the conflict potentially reigniting whenever either side perceives a strategic opportunity.
Sticking point over Iran’s nuclear program
Iran faces even greater challenges when it emerges from the war. With a heavy toll on its leadership and nuclear infrastructure, Tehran will likely prioritise rebuilding its deterrence capability.
That includes acquiring new advanced air defence systems — potentially from China — and restoring key components of its missile and nuclear programs. (Some experts say Iran has not used some of its most powerful missiles to maintain this deterrence.)
Iranian officials have claimed they safeguarded more than 400 kilograms of 60% enriched uranium before the attacks. This stockpile could theoretically be converted into nine to ten nuclear warheads if further enriched to 90%.
Trump declared Iran’s nuclear capacity had been “totally obliterated”, whereas Rafael Grossi, the United Nations’ nuclear watchdog chief, said damage to Iran’s facilities was “very significant”.
However, analysts have argued Iran will still have a depth of technical knowledge accumulated over decades. Depending on the extent of the damage to its underground facilities, Iran could be capable of restoring and even accelerating its program in a relatively short time frame.
And the chances of reviving negotiations on Iran’s nuclear program appear slimmer than ever.
What might future deterrence look like?
The war has fundamentally reshaped how both Iran and Israel perceive deterrence — and how they plan to secure it going forward.
For Iran, the conflict has reinforced the belief that its survival is at stake. With regime change openly discussed during the war, Iran’s leaders appear more convinced than ever that true deterrence requires two key pillars: nuclear weapons capability, and deeper strategic alignment with China and Russia.
As a result, Iran is expected to move rapidly to restore and advance its nuclear program, potentially moving towards actual weaponisation — a step it had long avoided, officially.
At the same time, Tehran is likely to accelerate military and economic cooperation with Beijing and Moscow to hedge against isolation. Iranian Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi emphasised this close engagement with Russia during a visit to Moscow this week, particularly on nuclear matters.
Israel, meanwhile, sees deterrence as requiring constant vigilance and a credible threat of overwhelming retaliation. In the absence of diplomatic breakthroughs, Israel may adopt a policy of immediate preemptive strikes on Iranian facilities or leadership figures if it detects any new escalation — particularly related to Iran’s nuclear program.
In this context, the current ceasefire already appears fragile. Without comprehensive negotiations that address the core issues — namely, Iran’s nuclear capabilities — the pause in hostilities may prove temporary.
Mutual deterrence may prevent a more protracted war for now, but the balance remains precarious and could collapse with little warning.
Ali Mamouri does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
In a decade of international security crises, this could be the most serious. Is there still time to prevent this from happening?
A successful but vulnerable treaty
In May 2015, I attended the five-yearly review conference of the NPT. Delegates debated a draft outcome for weeks, and then, not for the first time, went home with nothing. Delegates from the US, United Kingdom and Canada blocked the final outcome to prevent words being added that would call for Israel to attend a disarmament conference.
Russia did the same in 2022 in protest at language on its illegal occupation of the Zaporizhzhia nuclear power station in Ukraine.
Now, in the latest challenge to the NPT, Israel and the US have bombed Iran’s nuclear complexes to ostensibly enforce a treaty neither one respects.
When the treaty was adopted in 1968, it allowed the five nuclear-armed states at the time – the US, Soviet Union, France, UK and China – to join if they committed not to pass weapons or material to other states, and to disarm themselves.
All other members had to pledge never to acquire nuclear weapons. Newer nuclear powers were not permitted to join unless they gave up their weapons.
Israel declined to join, as it had developed its own undeclared nuclear arsenal by the late 1960s. India, Pakistan and South Sudan have also never signed; North Korea was a member but withdrew in 2003. Only South Sudan does not have nuclear weapons today.
To make the obligations enforceable and strengthen safeguards against the diversion of nuclear material to non-nuclear weapons states, members were later required to sign the IAEA Additional Protocol. This gave the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) wide powers to inspect a state’s nuclear facilities and detect violations.
It was the IAEA that first blew the whistle on Iran’s concerning uranium enrichment activity in 2003. Just before Israel’s attacks this month, the organisation also reported Iran was in breach of its obligations under the NPT for the first time in two decades.
The NPT is arguably the world’s most universal, important and successful security treaty, but it is also paradoxically vulnerable.
The treaty’s underlying consensus has been damaged by the failure of the five nuclear-weapon states to disarm as required, and by the failure to prevent North Korea from developing a now formidable nuclear arsenal.
North Korea withdrew from the treaty in 2003, tested a weapon in 2006, and now may have up to 50 warheads.
Iran could be next.
How things can deteriorate from here
Iran argues Israel’s attacks have undermined the credibility of the IAEA, given Israel used the IAEA’s new report on Iran as a pretext for its strikes, taking the matter out of the hands of the UN Security Council.
For its part, the IAEA has maintained a principled position and criticised both the US and Israeli strikes.
Iran has retaliated with its own missile strikes against both Israel and a US base in Qatar. In addition, it wasted no time announcing it would withdraw from the NPT.
On June 23, an Iranian parliament committee also approved a bill that would fully suspend Iran’s cooperation with the IAEA, including allowing inspections and submitting reports to the organisation.
Iran’s envoy to the IAEA, Reza Najafi, said the US strikes:
[…] delivered a fundamental and irreparable blow to the international non-proliferation regime conclusively demonstrating that the existing NPT framework has been rendered ineffective.
Even if Israel and the US consider their bombing campaign successful, it has almost certainly renewed the Iranians’ resolve to build a weapon. The strikes may only delay an Iranian bomb by a few years.
Iran will have two paths to do so. The slower path would be to reconstitute its enrichment activity and obtain nuclear implosion designs, which create extremely devastating weapons, from Russia or North Korea.
Alternatively, Russia could send Iran some of its weapons. This should be a real concern given Moscow’s cascade of withdrawals from critical arms control agreements over the last decade.
An Iranian bomb could then trigger NPT withdrawals by other regional states, especially Saudi Arabia, who suddenly face a new threat to their security.
Why Iran might now pursue a bomb
Iran’s support for Hamas, Hezbollah and Syria’s Assad regime certainly shows it is a dangerous international actor. Iranian leaders have also long used alarming rhetoric about Israel’s destruction.
However repugnant the words, Israeli and US conservatives have misjudged Iran’s motives in seeking nuclear weapons.
Israel fears an Iranian bomb would be an existential threat to its survival, given Iran’s promises to destroy it. But this neglects the fact that Israel already possesses a potent (if undeclared) nuclear deterrent capability.
Israeli anxieties about an Iranian bomb should not be dismissed. But other analysts (myself included) see Iran’s desire for nuclear weapons capability more as a way to establish deterrence to prevent future military attacks from Israel and the US to protect their regime.
Iranians were shaken by Iraq’s invasion in 1980 and then again by the US-led removal of Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein in 2003. This war with Israel and the US will shake them even more.
Last week, I felt that if the Israeli bombing ceased, a new diplomatic effort to bring Iran into compliance with the IAEA and persuade it to abandon its program might have a chance.
However, the US strikes may have buried that possibility for decades. And by then, the damage to the nonproliferation regime could be irreversible.
Anthony Burke received funding from the UK’s Economic and Social Research Council for a project on global nuclear governance (2014–17).
We all like to imagine we’re ageing well. Now a simple blood or saliva test promises to tell us by measuring our “biological age”. And then, as many have done, we can share how “young” we really are on social media, along with our secrets to success.
While chronological age is how long you have been alive, measures of biological age aim to indicate how old your body actually is, purporting to measure “wear and tear” at a molecular level.
The appeal of these tests is undeniable. Health-conscious consumers may see their results as reinforcing their anti-ageing efforts, or a way to show their journey to better health is paying off.
But how good are these tests? Do they actually offer useful insights? Or are they just clever marketing dressed up to look like science?
How do these tests work?
Over time, the chemical processes that allow our body to function, known as our “metabolic activity”, lead to damage and a decline in the activity of our cells, tissues and organs.
Biological age tests aim to capture some of these changes, offering a snapshot of how well, or how poorly, we are ageing on a cellular level.
Our DNA is also affected by the ageing process. In particular, chemical tags (methyl groups) attach to our DNA and affect gene expression. These changes occur in predictable ways with age and environmental exposures, in a process called methylation.
Research studies have used “epigenetic clocks”, which measure the methylation of our genes, to estimate biological age. By analysing methylation levels at specific sites in the genome from participant samples, researchers apply predictive models to estimate the cumulative wear and tear on the body.
What does the research say about their use?
Although the science is rapidly evolving, the evidence underpinning the use of epigenetic clocks to measure biological ageing in research studies is strong.
Studies have shown epigenetic biological age estimation is a better predictor of the risk of death and ageing-related diseases than chronological age.
Epigenetic clocks also have been found to correlate strongly with lifestyle and environmental exposures, such as smoking status and diet quality.
In addition, they have been found to be able to predict the risk of conditions such as cardiovascular disease, which can lead to heart attacks and strokes.
Taken together, a growing body of research indicates that at a population level, epigenetic clocks are robust measures of biological ageing and are strongly linked to the risk of disease and death
But how good are these tests for individuals?
While these tests are valuable when studying populations in research settings, using epigenetic clocks to measure the biological age of individuals is a different matter and requires scrutiny.
For testing at an individual level, perhaps the most important consideration is the “signal to noise ratio” (or precision) of these tests. This is the question of whether a single sample from an individual may yield widely differing results.
A study from 2022 found samples deviated by up to nine years. So an identical sample from a 40-year-old may indicate a biological age of as low as 35 years (a cause for celebration) or as high as 44 years (a cause of anxiety).
While there have been significant improvements in these tests over the years, there is considerable variability in the precision of these tests between commercial providers. So depending on who you send your sample to, your estimated biological age may vary considerably.
Another limitation is there is currently no standardisation of methods for this testing. Commercial providers perform these tests in different ways and have different algorithms for estimating biological age from the data.
As you would expect for commercial operators, providers don’t disclose their methods. So it’s difficult to compare companies and determine who provides the most accurate results – and what you’re getting for your money.
A third limitation is that while epigenetic clocks correlate well with ageing, they are simply a “proxy” and are not a diagnostic tool.
In other words, they may provide a general indication of ageing at a cellular level. But they don’t offer any specific insights about what the issue may be if someone is found to be “ageing faster” than they would like, or what they’re doing right if they are “ageing well”.
So regardless of the result of your test, all you’re likely to get from the commercial provider of an epigenetic test is generic advice about what the science says is healthy behaviour.
Are they worth it? Or what should I do instead?
While companies offering these tests may have good intentions, remember their ultimate goal is to sell you these tests and make a profit. And at a cost of around A$500, they’re not cheap.
While the idea of using these tests as a personalised health tool has potential, it is clear that we are not there yet.
For this to become a reality, tests will need to become more reproducible, standardised across providers, and validated through long-term studies that link changes in biological age to specific behaviours.
So while one-off tests of biological age make for impressive social media posts, for most people they represent a significant cost and offer limited real value.
The good news is we already know what we need to do to increase our chances of living longer and healthier lives. These include:
We don’t need to know our biological age in order to implement changes in our lives right now to improve our health.
Hassan Vally does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
In our guides to the classics, experts explain key literary works.
Ibn Battuta, was born in Tangier, Morocco, on February 24, 1304. From a statement in his celebrated travel book the Rihla (“legal affairs are my ancestral profession,”) he evidently came from an intellectually distinguished family.
According to the Rihla (travelogue), Ibn Battuta embarked on his travels from Tangier at the age of 22 with the intention of performing the Hajj (the sacred pilgrimage to Mecca) in 1325. Although he returned to Fez (his adopted home-town) around the end of 1349, he continued to visit various regions, including Granada and Sudan, in subsequent years.
Over the course of his almost 30 years of travel, Ibn Battuta covered an astonishing distance of approximately 73,000 miles (117,000 kilometres), visiting a region that today encompasses more than 50 countries. His journeys covered much of the medieval Islamic world and beyond, excluding Northern Europe.
In 1355, he returned to Morocco for the last time and remained there for the rest of his life. Upon his return he dictated his experiences, observations and anecdotes to the Andalusian scholar Ibn Juzayy, with a compilation of his travels completed in 1355 or 1356.
The work, formally titled A Gift to Researchers on the Curiosities of Cities and the Marvels of Journeys, is more commonly referred to as Rihlat Ibn Battuta or simply Rihla.
A painting of Ibn Battuta (on right) in Egypt by Leon Benett. Wikimedia Commons, CC BY
More than a travelogue or geographical record, this book provides rich insights into 14th-century social and political life, capturing cultural diversity across nations. Ibn Battuta details local lifestyles, linguistic traits, beliefs, clothing, cuisines, holidays, artistic traditions and gender relations, as well as commercial activities and currencies.
His observations also include geographical features such as mountains, rivers and agricultural products. Notably, the work highlights his encounters with over 60 sultans and more than 2,000 prominent figures, making it a valuable historical resource.
The travels
His travels began after a dream. According to Ibn Battuta, one night, while in Fuwwa, a town near Alexandria in Egypt, he dreamed of flying on a massive bird across various lands, landing in a dark, greenish country.
To test the local sheikh’s mystical knowledge, he decided if the sheikh knew of his dream, he was truly extraordinary. The next morning, after leading the dawn prayer, he saw the sheikh bid farewell to visitors. Later, the sheikh astonishingly revealed knowledge of Ibn Battuta’s dream and prophesied his pilgrimage through Yemen, Iraq, Turkey and India.
At the time, the Middle East was under the rule of the Mamluk sultanate, Anatolia was divided among principalities and the Mongol Ilkhanate state controlled Iran, Central Asia, and the Indian subcontinent.
Ibn Battuta initially travelled through North Africa, Egypt, Palestine and Syria, completing his first Hajj in 1326.
He then visited Iraq and Iran, returning to Mecca. In 1328, he explored East Africa, reaching Mogadishu, Mombasa, Sudan and Kilwa (modern Tanzania), as well as Yemen, Oman and Anatolia, where he documented cities like Alanya, Konya, Erzurum, Nicaea and Bursa.
His descriptions are vivid. Describing the city of Dimyat, on the bank of the Nile, he says:
Many of the houses have steps leading down to the Nile. Banana trees are especially abundant there, and their fruit is carried to Cairo in boats. Its sheep and goats are allowed to pasture at liberty day and night, and for this reason the saying goes of Dimyat, ‘Its wall is a sweetmeat and its dogs are sheep’. No one who enters the city may afterwards leave it except by the governor’s seal […]
Farmland on the banks of the Nile river today. Alice-D/shutterstock
When it comes to Anatolia (in modern-day Turkey), he declares:
This country, known as the Land of Rum, is the most beautiful in the world. While Allah Almighty has distributed beauty to other lands separately, He has gathered them all here. The most beautiful and well-dressed people live in this land, and the most delicious food is prepared here […] From the moment we arrived, our neighbors — both men and women — showed great concern for our wellbeing. Here, women do not shy away from men; when we departed, they bid us farewell as if we were family, expressing their sadness through tears.
A judge and husband
In 1332, Ibn Battutua met the Byzantine Emperor Andronikos III Palaiologos. Wikimedia Commons, CC BY
Since Ibn Battuta dictated his work, it’s difficult to assess the extent of the scribe’s influence in recording his narratives. Despite being an educated man, he occasionally narrates like a commoner and sometimes exceeds the bounds of polite language. At times, he provides excessive detail, giving the impression he may be quoting from sources beyond his own observations.
Nevertheless, the Rihla stands out for its engaging style and captivating anecdotes, drawing readers in.
Ibn Battuta later journeyed through Crimea, Central Asia, Khwarezm (a large oasis region in the territories of present-day Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan), Bukhara (a city in Uzbekistan), and the Hindu Kush Mountains. In 1332, he met Byzantine Emperor Andronikos III Palaiologos and travelled to Istanbul with the caravan of Uzbek Khan’s third wife. He mentions a caravan that even has a market:
Whenever the caravan halted, food was cooked in great brass cauldrons, called dasts, and supplied from them to the poorer pilgrims and those who had no provisions. […] This caravan contained also animated bazaars and great supplies of luxuries and all kinds of food and fruit. They used to march during the night and light torches in front of the file of camels and litters, so that you saw the countryside gleaming with light and the darkness turned into radiant day.
Ibn Battuta arrived in Delhi in 1333, where he served as a judge under Sultan Muhammad bin Tughluq for seven years. He married or was married to local women in many of the places he stayed. Among his wives were ordinary people as well as the daughters of the administrative class.
Miniature painting in Mughal style depicting the court of Muhammad bin Tughluq. Wikimedia Commons, CC BY
The Sultan’s generosity, intelligence and unconventional ruling style both impressed and surprised Ibn Battuta. However, Muhammad bin Tughluq was known for making excessively harsh and abrupt decisions at times, which led Ibn Battuta to approach him with caution. Nevertheless, with the Sultan’s support, he remained in India for a long time and was eventually chosen as an ambassador to China in 1341.
In 1345 his mission was disrupted when his ship capsized off the coast of Calcutta (then known as Sadqawan) in the Indian Ocean. Though he survived, he lost most of his possessions.
After the incident, he remained in India for a while before continuing his journey by other means. During this period, he travelled through India, Sri Lanka and the Maldives. He served as a judge in the latter for one and a half years. In 1345, he journeyed to China via Bengal, Burma and Sumatra, reaching the city of Guangzhou but limiting his exploration to the southern coast.
He was among the first Arab travellers to record Islam’s spread in the Malay Archipelago, noting interactions between Muslims and Hindu-Buddhist communities. Visiting Java and Sumatra, he praised Sultan Malik al-Zahir of Sumatra as a generous, pious and scholarly ruler and highlighted his rare practice of walking to Friday prayers.
On his return, Ibn Battuta explored regions such as Iran, Iraq, North Africa, Spain and the Kingdom of Mali, documenting the vast Islamic world.
Back in his homeland, Ibn Battuta served as a judge in several locations. He died around 1368-9 while serving as a judge in Morocco and was buried in his birthplace, Tangier.
Historic copy of selected parts of the Travel Report by Ibn Battuta, 1836 CE, Cairo. Wikimedia Commons, CC BY
The status of women
Ibn Battuta’s travels revealed intriguing insights into the status of women across regions. In inner West Africa, he observed matriarchal practices where lineage and inheritance were determined by the mother’s family.
Among Turks, women rode horses like raiders, traded actively and did not veil their faces.
In the Maldives, husbands leaving the region had to abandon their wives. He noted that Muslim women there, including the ruling woman, did not cover their heads. Despite attempting to enforce the hijab as a judge, he failed.
He offers fascinating insights into food cultures. In Siberia, sled dogs were fed before humans. He described 15-day wedding feasts in India.
He tried local produce such as mango in the Indian subcontinent, which he compared to an apple, and sun-dried, sliced fish in Oman.
Religious practices
Ibn Battuta’s accounts of the Hajj (pilgrimage) rituals he performed six times provide a unique perspective. He references a fatwa by Ibn Taymiyyah, prominent Islamic scholar and theologian known for his opposition to theological innovations and critiques of Sufism and philosophy, advising against shortening prayers for those travelling to Medina.
Ibn Battuta’s accounts, particularly regarding the Iranian region, offer important perspectives into religious sects during a period when Iran started shifting from Sunnism to Shiism. He describes societies with diverse demographics, including Persians, Azeris, Kurds, Arabs and Baluchis. His observations on religious practices are especially significant.
Inclined toward Sufism, Ibn Battuta often dressed like a dervish during his travels. He offers a compelling view of Islamic mysticism. He considered regions like Damascus as places of abundance and Anatolia as a land of compassion, interpreting them with a spiritual perspective.
His accounts of Sufi education, dervish lodges, zawiyas (similar to monasteries), and tombs, along with the special invocations of Sufi masters, are important historical records. He also observed and documented unique practices, such as the followers of the Persian Sufi saint Sheikh Qutb al-Din Haydar wearing iron rings on their hands, necks, ears, and even private parts to avoid sexual intercourse.
While Ibn Battuta primarily visited Muslim lands, he also travelled to non-Muslim territories, offering key understandings into different religious cultures, for instance interactions between Crimean Muslims and Christian Armenians in the Golden Horde region.
He also documented churches, icons and monasteries, such as the tomb of the Virgin Mary in Jerusalem. His observation of Muslims openly reciting the call to prayer (adhan) in China is significant.
Other anecdotes include the division of the Umayyad Mosque in Damascus into a mosque and Christian church. Most importantly, his encounters with Hindus and Buddhists in the Indian subcontinent and Malay Islands provide rich historical context.
His accounts of death rituals reveal diverse practices. In Sinop (a city in Turkey), 40 days of mourning were declared for a ruler’s mother, while in Iran, a funeral resembled a wedding celebration. He observed similarities in cremation practices between India and China and described a chilling custom in some regions where slaves and concubines were buried alive with the deceased.
Ibn Battuta’s Rihla, widely translated into Eastern and Western languages, has drawn some criticism for containing depictions that sometimes diverge from historical continuity or borrow from other works. Ibn Battuta himself admitted to using earlier travel books as references.
Despite limited recognition in older sources, the Rihla gained prominence in the West in the 19th century. His legacy remains vibrant today. Morocco declared 1996–1997 the “Year of Ibn Battuta,” and established a museum in Tangier to honour him. In Dubai, a mall is named after him.
Notably, Ibn Battuta travelled to more destinations than Marco Polo and shared a broader range of humane anecdotes, showcasing the depth and diversity of his experiences.
Ismail Albayrak 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.
It’s almost a decade since San Francisco 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick started a worldwide trend and sparked fierce debate when he knelt during the US national anthem.
In 2016, Kaepernick refused to follow the pre-game protocol related to the national anthem and knelt instead, saying:
I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses black people and people of colour.
Soon, many athletes and teams began “taking a knee” at sports events to express their solidarity with victims of racial injustice.
Following the intense public debate over the appropriateness of Kaepernick’s act, the ritual quickly spread worldwide, with athletes in major soccer leagues, cricket, rugby, Formula 1, top-tier tennis and the US’s Major League Baseball and National Basketball Association taking a knee.
Athletes didn’t always kneel during national anthems, with the majority kneeling at certain points pre-game.
Despite the occasional “defection” of a small number of players who would stand while their teammates knelt – such as Israel Folau in rugby league, Wilfried Zaha in soccer and Quinton de Kock in cricket – the ritual was widely embraced by teams and athletes and helped raise awareness of the issue.
Even major sports organisations notorious for prohibiting any type of political activism generally accepted the kneeling ritual. For example, soccer’s International Football Federation (FIFA) showcased kneeling as a “stand against discrimination” and as human rights advocacy.
The International Olympic Committee (IOC) initially stood firm by its Rule 50, which states “no kind of demonstration or political, religious, or racial propaganda is permitted in any Olympic sites, venues or other areas”.
But just three weeks before the 2021 Olympic and Paralympic Games in Tokyo, the IOC relaxed its interpretation, and athletes were permitted to express their views in ways that included taking a knee.
A surprising turn of events
Despite permission and even encouragement from sports governing bodies, our research shows the practice is disappearing from major sports competitions.
Take soccer, for example. At the FIFA World Cup 2022, England and Wales were the only national teams that knelt at their games in Qatar.
At the FIFA Women’s World Cup 2023 in Australia and New Zealand, no teams or players knelt.
The same happened at the 2024 Olympic soccer tournament in Paris.
That only a handful of teams knelt in Tokyo at the 2021 Olympics, two at the FIFA Mens’ World Cup in Qatar in 2022, none at the FIFA Womens’ World Cup in Australia and New Zealand in 2023, and again none at the Paris 2024 Olympics indicates a growing reluctance throughout the sports world.
This surely cannot mean athletes have become indifferent to racial injustice or other forms of oppression in the interval between the late 2010s and the mid-2020s.
The explanation must be sought elsewhere. A hint was provided when Crystal Palace soccer player Zaha, the first player of colour in the UK who refused to kneel, explained:
I feel like taking the knee is degrading, because growing up my parents just let me know that I should be proud to be Black no matter what and I feel like we should just stand tall.
The explanation may therefore be, at least in part, the players’ uncomfortable feelings related to the kneeling posture.
In sociology, this bothersome state of mind is called “cognitive dissonance”: the mental conflict a person experiences in the presence of contrasting beliefs.
A history of kneeling
The body posture of kneeling is not deemed, in any culture, as expressing solidarity.
Ancient Greek and the Roman societies, on whose values Western civilisation was built, rejected kneeling as improper, even when praying to gods.
When performed outside the church, kneeling meant submission to nobility or royalty.
The significance of kneeling as humility is not limited to the Western world.
In African tribal culture, the young kneel in front of elders, and everyone kneels before the king.
In China in 1949, Chairman Mao famously proclaimed at the first plenary of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference:
From now on our nation […] will no longer be a nation subject to insult and humiliation. We have stood up.
With this in mind, kneeling may be deemed unfit at sporting events, which often feature a powerful cocktail of emotions, values and social expectations.
The inconsistency between the excitement of competition and the expectation to kneel — a gesture associated with submission and humility — likely creates a bothersome state of mind for athletes.
This potentially motivates some players to reject one of the two – in this case, the kneeling – to restore cognitive harmony.
What could replace the kneeling ritual?
After refusing, by unanimous players’ vote, to take a knee before their October 2020 game against the All Blacks, the Australian rugby union team chose instead to wear a First Nations jersey.
The same year, several teams in German soccer’s top league chose to show their support for Black Lives Matter by wearing distinctive armbands.
So it appears wearing a distinctive jersey or at least an armband is more easily accepted by modern-day athletes. This may be challenging given the governing bodies of many sports, such as FIFA, ban athletes from wearing political symbols on their clothing.
Depending on whether sports code accept this type of activism in the future, wearing suportive clothing could replace taking a knee as symbolic communication of solidarity with oppressed minorities.
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.
Bats are often cast as the unseen night-time stewards of nature, flitting through the dark to control pest insects, pollinate plants and disperse seeds. But behind their silent contributions lies a remarkable and underappreciated survival strategy: seasonal fattening.
Much like bears and squirrels, bats around the world bulk up to get through hard times – even in places where you might not expect it.
In a paper published today in Ecology Letters, we analysed data from bat studies around the world to understand how bats use body fat to survive seasonal challenges, whether it’s a freezing winter or a dry spell.
The surprising conclusion? Seasonal fattening is a global phenomenon in bats, not just limited to those in cold climates.
Even bats in the tropics, where it’s warm all year, store fat in anticipation of dry seasons when food becomes scarce. That’s a survival strategy that’s been largely overlooked. But it may be faltering as the climate changes, putting entire food webs at risk.
Climate shapes fattening strategies
We found bats in colder regions predictably gain more weight before winter.
But in warmer regions with highly seasonal rainfall, such as tropical savannas or monsoonal forests, bats also fatten up. In tropical areas, it’s not cold that’s the enemy, but the dry season, when flowers wither, insects vanish and energy is hard to come by.
The extent of fattening is impressive. Some species increased their body weight by more than 50%, which is a huge burden for flying animals that already use a lot of energy to move around. This highlights the delicate balancing act bats perform between storing energy and staying nimble in the air.
In colder climates, female bats used their fat reserves more sparingly than males – a likely adaptation to ensure they have enough energy left to raise young when spring returns. Since females typically emerge from hibernation to raise their young, conserving fat through winter can directly benefit their reproductive success.
Interestingly, this sex-based difference vanished in warmer climates, where fat use by males and females was more similar, likely because more food is available in warmer climates. It’s another clue that climate patterns intricately shape behaviour and physiology.
Climate change is shifting the rules
Beyond the biology, our study points to a more sobering trend. Bats in warm regions appear to be increasing their fat stores over time. This could be an early warning sign of how climate change is affecting their survival.
Climate change isn’t just about rising temperatures. It’s also making seasons more unpredictable.
Bats may be storing more energy in advance of dry seasons that are becoming longer or harder to predict. That’s risky, because it means more foraging, more exposure to predators and potentially greater mortality.
The implications can ripple outward. Bats help regulate insect populations, fertilise crops and maintain healthy ecosystems. If their survival strategies falter, entire food webs could feel the effects.
Fat bats, fragile futures
Our study changes how we think about bats. They are not just passive victims of environmental change but active strategists, finely tuned to seasonal rhythms. Yet their ability to adapt has limits, and those limits are being tested by a rapidly changing world.
By understanding how bats respond to climate, we gain insights into broader ecosystem resilience. We also gain a deeper appreciation for one of nature’s quiet heroes – fattening up, flying through the night and holding ecosystems together, one wingbeat at a time.
Nicholas Wu was the lead author of a funded Australian Research Council Linkage Grant awarded to Christopher Turbill at Western Sydney University.
We know surprisingly little about the lives of children in ancient Egypt.
And what records we do have about them often concern the lives of the elite – the young king or the children of senior officials. They are more prominent in surviving material evidence, especially funerary art. Infant mortality rates were high in ancient Egypt.
As a result, much of the work in Egyptology on representations of childhood in ancient Egypt is dominated by evidence for the lives of boys and young adult men.
But what were the lives of ordinary girls like in ancient Egypt? And how did they make their way in a deeply patriarchal culture?
Finding hieroglyphic words for girls
An initial problem in studying girls’ lives in ancient Egypt is answering the question: who was a girl in ancient Egypt?
Chronological age was not always recorded by ancient Egyptians in their letters or inscriptions.
Instead, more general words and hieroglyphic signs tended to accompany images of men, women and children to indicate their social roles.
These words and signs were only loosely associated with biological development.
Hieroglyphic words for infants and small children, for instance, could be marked with an image of a small, seated child – sometimes with a finger held to its mouth.
Among the words used to describe young girls – talking, walking, and participating alongside adults in their work – was sheriyt.
This is the word often found in ancient accounting documents recording payments of wages, indicating a girl-child worker. They are distinguished from older women in these documents, although it is difficult to know precisely how young they might have been.
In this way, written administrative records and archaeological evidence reveals girls of many social classes were integrated into economic production from an early age.
Payment for work
Elephantine, a town at Egypt’s southern frontier near modern-day Aswan, provides a unique window into the urban life of some girls who worked in textile workshops during the ancient Egyptian Middle Kingdom, which dates approximately 2030–1650 BCE.
First published in 1996, archaeologists found a ceramic bowl repurposed as a writing surface in a house in the densely packed urban settlement.
The excavators initially dated the bowl to the reign of King Amenemhat III, who ruled almost 3,800 years ago. However, based on the style of writing and the types of names listed, some scholars have also dated it earlier. It contains lists of payments of provisions of grain for textile workers over the course of a month.
What makes this document so important is that it names at least 18 child workers. Of these, 11 are girls, clearly marked with the Egyptian word sheriyt, working alongside 28 adult women.
The list shows adult women in this workshop received between 50–57 heqat (around 240–274 litres) of grain – although it’s not entirely clear if this was a one-off payment, a payment per month, or something else. The girls earned smaller but still significant wages of 3–7 heqat (around 14–34 litres).
Some other adult women seem to have also received comparable provisions to the girls, although without further information it is difficult know their social status or age.
This document not only confirms that girls received payment for their labour. It also suggests a structured apprenticeship system where young girls (and boys) worked alongside experienced craftswomen.
Archaeological evidence suggests textile production occurred both within homes and in dedicated workshops.
Evidence from the excavations at Elephantine suggests homes had several rooms with multiple purposes, including courtyards, entrance vestibules, kitchens with ovens (recognisable by blackened walls and ash deposits), and possible stairs leading to roof spaces.
Privacy would have been limited. Daily life would have included close interaction with animals, as evidenced by attached animal pens.
More recently, close to the house where the provision list was discovered, archaeologists found needles, spindles, shuttles, and remains of pegs for a large loom.
These were found both inside houses and in the courtyards attached to them.
It’s hard to know what exactly these buildings were for; they probably served multiple purposes.
Lives shaped by class and legal status
Not all girls at Elephantine had the same experience of life. The town’s position at Egypt’s southern frontier in this period meant it was home to diverse populations, which included migrants, enslaved people and transitory workers.
A letter dating to the reign of King Amenemhat III documents some families, including women and children, arriving at Elephantine seeking work during a famine in their home region.
This evidence can be compared to a legal document from the same time period but from another Egyptian town, El Lahun. This document mentions the purchase and transfer of enslaved women and infants who are called Aamut, referring to a region in West Asia. The document shows they have been given new Egyptian names.
These documents remind us factors such as class and legal status have always profoundly shaped girls’ lives.
Valuing the work of girls
Accessing the everyday thoughts, feelings, and perspectives of many ancient people, especially children, is challenging for historians. We don’t, for instance, have a wealth of personal diaries from ancient Egypt to learn about girls’ interior lives.
But what’s clear is that girls were not merely passive participants in society. They were active economic contributors, who often received formal compensation for their work.
Historians must always look beyond elite contexts to incorporate diverse evidence types – administrative documents, archaeological remains, and artistic representations – to construct a more complete picture of ancient lives.
Julia Hamilton 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 Vitomir Kovanovic, Associate Professor and Associate Director of the Centre for Change and Complexity in Learning (C3L), Education Futures, University of South Australia
Since ChatGPT appeared almost three years ago, the impact of artificial intelligence (AI) technologies on learning has been widely debated. Are they handy tools for personalised education, or gateways to academic dishonesty?
Most importantly, there has been concern that using AI will lead to a widespread “dumbing down”, or decline in the ability to think critically. If students use AI tools too early, the argument goes, they may not develop basic skills for critical thinking and problem-solving.
Is that really the case? According to a recent study by scientists from MIT, it appears so. Using ChatGPT to help write essays, the researchers say, can lead to “cognitive debt” and a “likely decrease in learning skills”.
So what did the study find?
The difference between using AI and the brain alone
Over the course of four months, the MIT team asked 54 adults to write a series of three essays using either AI (ChatGPT), a search engine, or their own brains (“brain-only” group). The team measured cognitive engagement by examining electrical activity in the brain and through linguistic analysis of the essays.
The cognitive engagement of those who used AI was significantly lower than the other two groups. This group also had a harder time recalling quotes from their essays and felt a lower sense of ownership over them.
Interestingly, participants switched roles for a final, fourth essay (the brain-only group used AI and vice versa). The AI-to-brain group performed worse and had engagement that was only slightly better than the other group’s during their first session, far below the engagement of the brain-only group in their third session.
The authors claim this demonstrates how prolonged use of AI led to participants accumulating “cognitive debt”. When they finally had the opportunity to use their brains, they were unable to replicate the engagement or perform as well as the other two groups.
Cautiously, the authors note that only 18 participants (six per condition) completed the fourth, final session. Therefore, the findings are preliminary and require further testing.
Does this really show AI makes us stupider?
These results do not necessarily mean that students who used AI accumulated “cognitive debt”. In our view, the findings are due to the particular design of the study.
The change in neural connectivity of the brain-only group over the first three sessions was likely the result of becoming more familiar with the study task, a phenomenon known as the familiarisation effect. As study participants repeat the task, they become more familiar and efficient, and their cognitive strategy adapts accordingly.
When the AI group finally got to “use their brains”, they were only doing the task once. As a result, they were unable to match the other group’s experience. They achieved only slightly better engagement than the brain-only group during the first session.
To fully justify the researchers’ claims, the AI-to-brain participants would also need to complete three writing sessions without AI.
Similarly, the fact the brain-to-AI group used ChatGPT more productively and strategically is likely due to the nature of the fourth writing task, which required writing an essay on one of the previous three topics.
As writing without AI required more substantial engagement, they had a far better recall of what they had written in the past. Hence, they primarily used AI to search for new information and refine what they had previously written.
What are the implications of AI in assessment?
To understand the current situation with AI, we can look back to what happened when calculators first became available.
Back in the 1970s, their impact was regulated by making exams much harder. Instead of doing calculations by hand, students were expected to use calculators and spend their cognitive efforts on more complex tasks.
Effectively, the bar was significantly raised, which made students work equally hard (if not harder) than before calculators were available.
The challenge with AI is that, for the most part, educators have not raised the bar in a way that makes AI a necessary part of the process. Educators still require students to complete the same tasks and expect the same standard of work as they did five years ago.
In such situations, AI can indeed be detrimental. Students can for the most part offload critical engagement with learning to AI, which results in “metacognitive laziness”.
However, just like calculators, AI can and should help us accomplish tasks that were previously impossible – and still require significant engagement. For example, we might ask teaching students to use AI to produce a detailed lesson plan, which will then be evaluated for quality and pedagogical soundness in an oral examination.
In the MIT study, participants who used AI were producing the “same old” essays. They adjusted their engagement to deliver the standard of work expected of them.
The same would happen if students were asked to perform complex calculations with or without a calculator. The group doing calculations by hand would sweat, while those with calculators would barely blink an eye.
Learning how to use AI
Current and future generations need to be able to think critically and creatively and solve problems. However, AI is changing what these things mean.
Producing essays with pen and paper is no longer a demonstration of critical thinking ability, just as doing long division is no longer a demonstration of numeracy.
Knowing when, where and how to use AI is the key to long-term success and skill development. Prioritising which tasks can be offloaded to an AI to reduce cognitive debt is just as important as understanding which tasks require genuine creativity and critical thinking.
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.
But the situation is perhaps not as rosy for the animal itself. Domesticated animals often live longer than their free-living counterparts, but the quality of those lives can be compromised. Pets can be fed processed foods that can lead to obesity. Many are denied a sexual life and experience of parenthood. Exercise can be limited, isolation is common and boredom must be endured.
Is this the best life for the species we feel closest to? This question was raised for me when I heard the story of Valerie, the dachshund recaptured in April this year after almost 18 months living on her own on South Australia’s Karta Pintingga/Kangaroo Island.
Is being a pet the best life for the species we feel closest to? Oleksandr Rupeta/NurPhoto via Getty Images
Valerie: the story that captivated a nation
Valerie, a miniature dachshund, escaped into the bush during a camping trip on Kangaroo Island in November 2023. After several days of searching, her bereft humans returned to their home in New South Wales. They assumed the tiny dog, who had lived her life as a “little princess”, was gone forever.
Fast-forward a year, and sightings were reported on the island of a small dog wearing a pink collar. Word spread and volunteers renewed the search. A wildlife rescue group designed a purpose-built trap, fitting it out with items from Valerie’s former home.
After several weeks, a remotely controlled gate clattered shut behind Valerie and she was caught.
Cue great celebrations. The searchers were triumphant and the family was delighted. Social media lit up. It was a canine reenactment of one of settler Australia’s enduring narratives: the lost child rescued from the hostile bush.
A dog’s-eye view
But imagine if Valerie’s story was told from a more dog-centred perspective. Valerie found herself alone in a strange place and took the opportunity to run away. She embarked on a new life in which she was responsible for herself and could exercise the intelligence inherited from her boar-hunting ancestors.
No longer required to be a good girl, Valerie applied her own judgement – that notorious dachshund “stubbornness” – to evade predators, fill her stomach and pass her days.
Some commentators assumed Valerie must have been fed by anonymous benefactors – reflecting a widely held view that pets have limited abilities.
Veterinary experts, however, said her diet likely consisted of small birds, mammals and reptiles she killed herself – as well as roadkill, other carrion and faeces.
Valerie was clearly good at life on the lam. Unlike the human competitors in the series Alone Australia, she did not waste away when left in an island wilderness. Instead, she gained 1.8 kg of muscle – and was so stocky she no longer fit the old harness her humans brought to collect her. She had literally outgrown her former bonds.
Valerie could have sought shelter with the island’s humans at any time, but chose not to. She had to be actively trapped. Once returned to her humans, she needed time to reacclimatise to life as a pet.
Not all missing pets thrive in the wild. But all this raises the question of whether Valerie’s rescue would be better understood as a forced return from a full life of freedom, to a diminished existence in captivity?
A long history of pets thriving in the wild
Other examples exist which suggest an animal’s best life can take place outside the constraints of being a pet.
Exotic parrots have fled lives in cages to form urban flocks. In the United States, 25 species initially imported as pets have set up self-sustaining, free-living populations across 23 states.
Or take the red-eared slider turtle, which is native to parts of the US and Mexico. It’s illegal to keep the turtles as pets in Australia, but some of those smuggled in have later been released into urban wetlands where they have established large and widespread populations.
Cats are perhaps the most notorious example of escaped pets thriving on their own in Australia. They numbers in the millions, in habitats from cities to the Simpson Desert to the Snowy Mountains, showing how little they need human assistance.
One mark of their success is their prodigious size. At up to 7kg, free-living cats can be more than twice the weight of the average domestic cat.
Of course, I am not advocating that pets be released to the wild, creating new problems. But I do believe current pet-keeping practices are due for reconsideration.
A dramatic solution would be to take the animal out of the pet relationship. Social robots that look like seals and teddy bears are already available to welcome you home, mirror your emotions and offer up cuddles without the cost to other animals.
A less radical option is to rethink the idea of animals as “pets” and instead see them as equals.
Some people already enjoy these unforced bonds. Magpies, for example, are known to have strong allegiances with each other and are sometimes willing to extend those connections to humans in multi-species friendships.
As for Valerie, she did make “her little happy sounds” when reunited with her humans. But she might look back with nostalgia to her 529 days of freedom on Kangaroo Island.
Nancy Cushing receives funding from the State Library of New South Wales as the Coral Thomas Fellow. She is a member of the executive committee of the Australian Historical Association.
Have you had a tonsillectomy (your tonsils taken out), appendectomy (your appendix removed) or lumpectomy (removal of a lump from your breast)? The suffix “ectomy” denotes surgical removal of the named body part, so these terms give us a clear idea of what the procedure entails.
So why is the removal of the uterus called a hysterectomy and not a uterectomy?
The name hysterectomy is rooted in a mental health condition – “hysteria” – that was once believed to affect women. But we now know this condition doesn’t exist.
Continuing to call this significant operation a hysterectomy both perpetuates misogyny and hampers people’s understanding of what it is.
From the defunct condition ‘hysteria’
Hysteria was a psychiatric condition first formally defined in the 5th century BCE. It had many symptoms, including excessive emotion, irritability, anxiety, breathlessness and fainting.
But hysteria was only diagnosed in women. Male physicians at the time claimed these symptoms were caused by a “wandering womb”. They believed the womb (uterus) moved around the body looking for sperm and disrupted other organs.
Because the uterus was blamed for hysteria, the treatment was to remove it. This procedure was called a hysterectomy. Sadly, many women had their healthy uterus unnecessarily removed and most died.
The word “hysteria” did originally came from the ancient Greek word for uterus, “hystera”. But the modern Greek word for uterus is “mitra”, which is where words such as “endometrium” come from.
uterine prolapse (when the uterus protrudes down into the vagina)
adenomyosis (when the inner layer of the uterus grows into the muscle layer)
cancer.
However, in a survey colleagues and I did of almost 500 Australian adults, which is yet to be published in a peer-reviewed journal, one in five people thought hysterectomy meant removal of the ovaries, not the uterus.
It’s true some hysterectomiesfor cancer do also remove the ovaries. A hysterectomy or partial hysterectomy is the removal of only the uterus, a total hysterectomy removes the uterus and cervix, while a radical hysterectomy usually removes the uterus, cervix, uterine tubes and ovaries.
There are important differences between these hysterectomies, so they should be named to clearly indicate the nature of the surgery.
Research has shown ambiguous terminology such as “hysterectomy” is associated with low patient understanding of the procedure and the female anatomy involved.
Uterectomy should be used for removal of the uterus, in combination with the medical terms for removal of the cervix, uterine tubes and ovaries as needed. For example, a uterectomy plus cervicectomy would refer to the removal of the uterus and the cervix.
This could help patients understand what is (and isn’t) being removed from their bodies and increase clarity for the wider public.
Other female body parts and procedures have male names
There are many eponyms (something named after a person) in anatomy and medicine, such as the Achilles tendon and Parkinson’s disease. They are almost exclusively the names of white men.
Eponyms for female anatomy and procedures include the Fallopian tubes, Pouch of Douglas, and Pap smear.
The anatomical term for Fallopian tubes is uterine tubes. “Uterine” indicates these are attached to the uterus, which reinforces their important role in fertility.
The Pouch of Douglas is the space between the rectum and uterus. Using the anatomical name (rectouterine pouch) is important, because this a common site for endometriosis and can explain any associated bowel symptoms.
Pap smear gives no indication of its location or function. The new cervical screening test is named exactly that, which clarifies it samples cells of the cervix. This helps people understand this tests for risk of cervical cancer.
In line with increasing awareness and discussions around female reproductive health and medical misogyny, now is the time to improve terminology. We must ensure the names of body parts and medical procedures reflect the relevant anatomy.
Theresa Larkin 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.
Many smartwatches, fitness and wellness trackers now offer sleep tracking among their many functions.
Wear your watch or ring to bed, and you’ll wake up to a detailed sleep report telling you not just how long you slept, but when each phase happened and whether you had a good night’s rest overall.
Surfing is done in the ocean, planes fly in the sky, and sleep occurs in the brain. So how can we measure sleep from the wrist or finger?
The gold standard of sleep measurement
If you’ve ever had a sleep study or seen someone with dozens of wires attached to their head, body and face, you’ve encountered polysomnography or PSG.
Eye movements, muscle tone, heart rate and brain activity are measured and assessed by experts to detect which stage of sleep or wakefulness a person is in.
When we sleep, we cycle through different stages, generally classified as light sleep, slow-wave sleep (also known as deep sleep), and rapid eye movement or REM sleep.
Each stage has an effect on brain activity, muscle tone and heart rate – which is why sleep scientists need so many wires.
Accurate? Absolutely. Convenient? Like two left shoes.
This is where the convenience of wearable at-home sleep trackers comes in.
What sensors are in sleep trackers?
Since the 1990s, sleep researchers have been using actigraphy to measure people’s sleep outside the laboratory.
An actigraphy device is similar to a wristwatch and uses accelerometers to measure the person’s movement. Coupled with sleep diaries, actigraphy assumes a person is awake when they’re moving and asleep when still. Simple.
While this is a scientifically accepted method of estimating sleep, it’s prone to mislabelling being awake but at rest (such as when reading a book) as sleep.
There’s one key addition that makes wrist-worn sleep trackers more accurate – PPG or photoplethysmography.
It’s hard to pronounce, but photoplethysmography is a key driver in the explosion of wearable health tracking.
It uses those little green lights on the skin-side of the wearable to track the amount of blood passing through your wrist at any given time. Clip-on pulse oximeters used by doctors are the same type of tech.
The addition of PPG to a wrist tracker allows for the measurement of raw data like heart rate and breathing rate. From this data, the wearable can estimate a number of physiological metrics, including sleep stages.
Since fitness wearables already have accelerometers and PPG to track your physical activity and heart rate, it makes sense to use these sensors to track sleep too. But how accurate are they?
Many fitness trackers leverage the sensors used to measure your fitness activities and heart rate for sleep tracking. The Conversation
How do scientists test sleep trackers?
Two main factors determine the accuracy of sleep trackers. How well does the device detect whether you’re asleep or awake? And how well can it distinguish the sleep stages?
To answer these questions, sleep scientists conduct validation studies. Participants sleep overnight in a laboratory while wearing both a sleep tracker and undergoing PSG.
Then, scientists compare the data from both methods in 30-second blocks called “epochs”. That means for a nine-hour sleep there will be 1,080 epochs to compare.
If both the device and PSG indicate “sleep” for the same epoch, they’re in agreement. If the device indicates “wake” and PSG indicates “sleep” for the same epoch, that’s considered an error. The same is done for sleep stages.
How accurate are sleep trackers?
In a 2022 study of several popular trackers, most correctly identified more than 90% of sleep epochs. But because light sleep and restful wake are so similar, wearables struggle more to estimate wakefulness, correctly identifying between 26% and 73% of wake epochs.
When it comes to sleep stages, wearables are less precise, correctly identifying between 53% and 60% of sleep stage epochs. However, for some devices and some sleep stages the precision can be greater. A recent validation study showed that a latest generation ring-shaped wearable didn’t differ from PSG for estimating light sleep and slow wave sleep.
In short, most modern sleep trackers do a decent job of estimating your total sleep each night. Some are more accurate for sleep staging, but this level of detail isn’t essential for improving the basics of your sleep.
Do I need a sleep tracker?
If you’re struggling with sleep, you should speak to your doctor. A sleep tracker can be a useful tool to help track your sleep goals, but ultimately your behaviour is what will improve sleep.
Keeping regular bedtimes and wake-up times, having a distraction-free sleep space, and keeping home lighting low in the evenings can all help to improve your sleep.
If you love tracking your sleep, make sure your device has been independently validated. While sleep stage data may not be essential, devices that perform well in estimating sleep stage also tend to be more accurate at detecting when you’re asleep or awake. When reviewing your data, look at long term trends in sleep rather than day-to-day variability.
If you don’t love your sleep tracker, you can take it off or ignore it. For some people, access to sleep data can negatively impact sleep by creating stress and anxiety for getting a perfect night’s sleep. Instead, focus on improving your healthy sleep strategies and pay attention to how you feel during the day.
Dr Dean J. Miller is a member of a research group at Central Queensland University that receives support for research (i.e., funding, equipment) from WHOOP Inc, a smart device maker.
Is AI going to take over the world? Have scientists created an artificial lifeform that can think on its own? Is it going to replace all our jobs, even creative ones, like doctors, teachers and care workers? Are we about to enter an age where computers are better than humans at everything?
The answers, as the authors of The AI Con stress, are “no”, “they wish”, “LOL” and “definitely not”.
The AI Con: How To Fight Big Tech’s Hype and Create the Future We Want – Emily M. Bender and Alex Hanna (Bodley Head)
Artificial intelligence is a marketing term as much as a distinct set of computational architectures and techniques. AI has become a magic word for entrepreneurs to attract startup capital for dubious schemes, an incantation deployed by managers to instantly achieve the status of future-forward leaders.
In a mere two letters, it conjures a vision of automated factories and robotic overlords, a utopia of leisure or a dystopia of servitude, depending on your point of view. It is not just technology, but a powerful vision of how society should function and what our future should look like.
In this sense, AI doesn’t need to work for it to work. The accuracy of a large language model may be doubtful, the productivity of an AI office assistant may be claimed rather than demonstrated, but this bundle of technologies, companies and claims can still alter the terrain of journalism, education, healthcare, service work and our broader sociocultural landscape.
Bender is a linguistics professor at the University of Washington, who has become a prominent technology critic. Hanna is a sociologist and former employee of Google, who is now the director of research at the Distributed AI Research Institute. After teaming up to mock AI boosters in their popular podcast, Mystery AI Hype Theater 3000, they have distilled their insights into a book written for a general audience. They meet the unstoppable force of AI hype with immovable scepticism.
Step one in this program is grasping how AI models work. Bender and Hanna do an excellent job of decoding technical terms and unpacking the “black box” of machine learning for lay people.
Driving this wedge between hype and reality, between assertions and operations, is a recurring theme across the pages of The AI Con, and one that should gradually erode readers’ trust in the tech industry. The book outlines the strategic deceptions employed by powerful corporations to reduce friction and accumulate capital. If the barrage of examples tends to blur together, the sense of technical bullshit lingers.
What is intelligence? A famous and highly cited paper co-written by Bender asserts that large language models are simply “stochastic parrots”, drawing on training data to predict which set of tokens (i.e. words) is most likely to follow the prompt given by a user. Harvesting millions of crawled websites, the model can regurgitate “the moon” after “the cow jumped over”, albeit in much more sophisticated variants.
Rather than actually understanding a concept in all its social, cultural and political contexts, large language models carry out pattern matching: an illusion of thinking.
But I would suggest that, in many domains, a simulation of thinking is sufficient, as it is met halfway by those engaging with it. Users project agency onto models via the well-known Eliza effect, imparting intelligence to the simulation.
Management are pinning their hopes on this simulation. They view automation as a way to streamline their organisations and not be “left behind”. This powerful vision of early adopters vs extinct dinosaurs is one we see repeatedly with the advent of new technologies – and one that benefits the tech industry.
In this sense, poking holes in the “intelligence” of artificial intelligence is a losing move, missing the social and financial investment that wants this technology to work. “Start with AI for every task. No matter how small, try using an AI tool first,” commanded DuoLingo’s chief engineering officer in a recent message to all employees. Duolingo has joined Fiverr, Shopify, IBM and a slew of other companies proclaiming their “AI first” approach.
The AI Con is strongest when it looks beyond or around the technologies to the ecosystem surrounding them, a perspective I have also argued is immensely helpful. By understanding the corporations, actors, business models and stakeholders involved in a model’s production, we can evaluate where it comes from, its purpose, its strengths and weaknesses, and what all this might mean downstream for its possible uses and implications. “Who benefits from this technology, who is harmed, and what recourse do they have?” is a solid starting point, Bender and Hanna suggest.
These basic but important questions extract us from the weeds of technical debate – how does AI function, how accurate or “good” is it really, how can we possibly understand this complexity as non-engineers? – and give us a critical perspective. They place the onus on industry to explain, rather than users to adapt or be rendered superfluous.
We don’t need to be able to explain technical concepts like backpropagation or diffusion to grasp that AI technologies can undermine fair work, perpetuate racial and gender stereotypes, and exacerbate environmental crises. The hype around AI means to distract us from these concrete effects, to trivialise them and thus encourage us to ignore them.
As Bender and Hanna explain, AI boosters and AI doomers are really two sides of the same coin. Conjuring up nightmare scenarios of self-replicating AI terminating humanity or claiming sentient machines will usher us into a posthuman paradise are, in the end, the same thing. They place a religious-like faith in the capabilities of technology, which dominates debate, allowing tech companies to retain control of AI’s future development.
The risk of AI is not potential doom in the future, à la the nuclear threat during the Cold War, but the quieter and more significant harm to real people in the present. The authors explain that AI is more like a panopticon “that allows a single prison warden to keep track of hundreds of prisoners at once”, or the “surveillance dragnets that track marginalised groups in the West”, or a “toxic waste, salting the earth of a Superfund site”, or a “scabbing worker, crossing the picket line at the behest of an employer who wants to signal to the picketers that they are disposable. The totality of systems sold as AI are these things, rolled into one.”
A decade ago, with another “game-changing” technology, author Ian Bogost observed that
rather than utopia or dystopia, we usually end up with something less dramatic yet more disappointing. Robots neither serve human masters nor destroy us in a dramatic genocide, but slowly dismantle our livelihoods while sparing our lives.
The pattern repeats. As AI matures (to some degree) and is adopted by organisations, it moves from innovation to infrastructure, from magic to mechanism. Grand promises never materialise. Instead, society endures a tougher, bleaker future. Workers feel more pressure; surveillance is normalised; truth is muddied with post-truth; the marginal become more vulnerable; the planet gets hotter.
Technology, in this sense, is a shapeshifter: the outward form constantly changes, yet the inner logic remains the same. It exploits labour and nature, extracts value, centralises wealth, and protects the power and status of the already-powerful.
Co-opting critique
In The New Spirit of Capitalism, sociologists Luc Boltanski and Eve Chiapello demonstrate how capitalism has mutated over time, folding critiques back into its DNA.
After enduring a series of blows around alienation and automation in the 1960s, capitalism moved from a hierarchical Fordist mode of production to a more flexible form of self-management over the next two decades. It began to favour “just in time” production, done in smaller teams, that (ostensibly) embraced the creativity and ingenuity of each individual. Neoliberalism offered “freedom”, but at a price. Organisations adapted; concessions were made; critique was defused.
AI continues this form of co-option. Indeed, the current moment can be described as the end of the first wave of critical AI. In the last five years, tech titans have released a series of bigger and “better” models, with both the public and scholars focusing largely on generative and “foundation” models: ChatGPT, StableDiffusion, Midjourney, Gemini, DeepSeek, and so on.
Scholars have heavily criticised aspects of these models – my own work has explored truth claims, generative hate, ethics washing and other issues. Much work focused on bias: the way in which training data reproduces gender stereotypes, racial inequality, religious bigotry, western epistemologies, and so on.
Much of this work is excellent and seems to have filtered into the public consciousness, based on conversations I’ve had at workshops and events. However, its flagging of such issues allows tech companies to practise issue resolving. If the accuracy of a facial-recognition system is lower with Black faces, add more Black faces to the training set. If the model is accused of English dominance, fork out some money to produce data on “low-resource” languages.
Companies like Anthropic now regularly carry out “red teaming” exercises designed to highlight hidden biases in models. Companies then “fix” or mitigate these issues. But due to the massive size of the data sets, these tend to be band-aid solutions, superficial rather than structural tweaks.
For instance, soon after launching, AI image generators were under pressure for not being “diverse” enough. In response, OpenAI invented a technique to “more accurately reflect the diversity of the world’s population”. Researchers discovered this technique was simply tacking on additional hidden prompts (e.g. “Asian”, “Black”) to user prompts. Google’s Gemini model also seems to have adopted this, which resulted in a backlash when images of Vikings or Nazis had South Asian or Native American features.
The point here is not whether AI models are racist or historically inaccurate or “woke”, but that models are political and never disinterested. Harder questions about how culture is made computational, or what kind of truths we want as society, are never broached and therefore never worked through systematically.
Such questions are certainly broader and less “pointy” than bias, but also less amenable to being translated into a problem for a coder to resolve.
What next?
How, then, should those outside the academy respond to AI? The past few years have seen a flurry of workshops, seminars and professional development initiatives. These range from “gee whiz” tours of AI features for the workplace, to sober discussions of risks and ethics, to hastily organised all-hands meetings debating how to respond now, and next month, and the month after that.
Bender and Hanna wrap up their book with their own responses. Many of these, like their questions about how models work and who benefits, are simple but fundamental, offering a strong starting point for organisational engagement.
For the technosceptical duo, refusal is also clearly an option, though individuals will obviously have vastly different degrees of agency when it comes to opting out of models and pushing back on adoption strategies. Refusal of AI, as with many technologies that have come before it, often relies to some extent on privilege. The six-figure consultant or coder will have discretion that the gig worker or service worker cannot exercise without penalties or punishments.
If refusal is fraught at the individual level, it seems more viable and sustainable at a cultural level. Bender and Hanna suggest generative AI be responded to with mockery: companies who employ it should be derided as cheap or tacky.
The cultural backlash against AI is already in full swing. Soundtracks on YouTube are increasingly labelled “No AI”. Artists have launched campaigns and hashtags, stressing their creations are “100% human-made”.
These moves are attempts to establish a cultural consensus that AI-generated material is derivative and exploitative. And yet, if these moves offer some hope, they are swimming against the swift current of enshittification. AI slop means faster and cheaper content creation, and the technical and financial logic of online platforms – virality, engagement, monetisation – will always create a race to the bottom.
The extent to which the vision offered by big tech will be accepted, how far AI technologies will be integrated or mandated, how much individuals and communities will push back against them – these are still open questions. In many ways, Bender and Hanna successfully demonstrate that AI is a con. It fails at productivity and intelligence, while the hype launders a series of transformations that harm workers, exacerbate inequality and damage the environment.
Yet such consequences have accompanied previous technologies – fossil fuels, private cars, factory automation – and hardly dented their uptake and transformation of society. So while praise goes to Bender and Hanna for a book that shows “how to fight big tech’s hype and create the future we want”, the issue of AI resonates, for me, with Karl Marx’s observation that people “make their own history, but they do not make it just as they please”.
Luke Munn does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Last week, one of the dark web’s most prominent drug marketplaces – Archetyp – was shut down in an international, multi-agency law enforcement operation following years of investigations. It was touted as a major policing win and was accompanied by a slick cyberpunk-themed video.
But those of us who have studied this space for years weren’t surprised. Archetyp may have been the most secure dark web market. But shutdowns like this have become a recurring feature of the dark web. And they are usually not a significant turning point.
The durability of these markets tells us that if policing responses keep following the same playbook, they will keep getting the same results. And by focusing so heavily on these hidden platforms, authorities are neglecting the growing digital harms in the spaces we all use.
One of the most popular dark web markets
Dark web markets mirror mainstream e-commerce platforms – think Amazon meets cybercrime. These are encrypted marketplaces accessed via the Tor Browser, a privacy-focused browser that hides users’ IP addresses. Buyers use cryptocurrency and escrow systems (third-party payment systems which hold funds until the transaction is complete) to anonymously purchase illicit drugs.
Usually these products are sent to the buyer by post and money transferred to the seller through the escrow system.
Archetyp launched in May 2020 and quickly grew to become one of the most popular dark web markets with an estimated total transaction volume of €250 million (A$446 million). It had more than 600,000 users worldwide and 17,000 listings consisting mainly of illicit drugs including MDMA, cocaine and methamphetamine.
Compared to its predecessors, Archetyp enforced enhanced security expectations from its users. These included an advanced encryption program known as “Pretty Good Privacy” and a cryptocurrency called Monero. Unlike Bitcoin, which records every payment on a public ledger, Monero conceals all transaction details by default which makes them nearly impossible to trace.
Despite the fact Archetyp had clearly raised the bar on security on the dark web, Operation Deep Sentinel – a collaborative effort between law enforcement agencies in six countries supported by Europol and Eurojust – took down the market. The front page has now been replaced by a banner.
While these publicised take-downs feel effective, evidence has shown such interventions only have short-term impacts and the dark web ecosystem will quickly adapt.
A persistent trade
These shutdowns aren’t new. Silk Road, AlphaBay, WallStreet and Monopoly Market are all familiar names in the digital graveyard of the dark web. Before these dark web marketplaces were shutdown, they sold a range of illegal products, from drugs to firearms.
Yet still, the trade persists. New markets emerge and old users return. In some cases, established sellers on closed-down markets are welcomed onto new markets as digital “refugees” and have joining fees waived.
What current policing strategies neglect is that dark web markets are not isolated to the storefronts that are the popular target of crackdowns. These are communities stretched across dark and surface web forums which develop shared tutorials and help one another adapt to any new changes. These closures bind users together and foster a shared resilience and collective experience in navigating these environments.
Law enforcement shutdowns are also only one type of disruption that dark web communities face. Dark web market users routinely face voluntary closures (the gradual retirement of a market), exit scams (sudden closures of markets where any money in escrow is taken), or even scheduled maintenance of these markets.
Ultimately, this disruption to accessibility is not a unique event. In fact, it is routine for individual’s participating in these dark web communities, par for the course of engaging in the markets.
This ability of dark web communities to thrive in disruptions reflects how dark web market users have become experts at adapting to risks, managing disruptions and rebuilding quickly.
The other emerging issue is that current policing efforts treat dark web markets as the core threat, which might miss the wider landscape of digital harms. Illicit drug sales, for example, are promoted on social media, where platform features such as recommendation systems are affording new means of illicit drug supply.
This is all alongside the countless cases of celebrities and social media influencers caught up in crypto pump-and-dump schemes, where hype is used to artificially inflate the price of a token before the creators sell off their holdings and leave investors with worthless tokens.
This shows that while the dark web gets all the attention, it’s far from the internet’s biggest problem.
Archetyp’s takedown might make headlines, but it won’t stop the trade of illicit drugs on the dark web. It should force us to think about where harm is really happening online and whether current strategies are looking in the wrong direction.
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.
