If your summer holiday already feels like a distant memory, you’re not alone. Burnout – a state of emotional, physical and mental exhaustion following prolonged stress – has been described in workplaces since a 5th century monastery in Egypt.
So what’s the difference between burnout and depression?
Depression is marked by helplessness and burnout by hopelessness. They can have different causes and should also be managed differently.
What is burnout?
The World Health Organization defines burnout as an “occupational phenomenon” resulting from excessively demanding workload pressures. While it is typically associated with the workplace, carers of children or elderly parents with demanding needs are also at risk.
Our research created a set of burnout symptoms we captured in the Sydney Burnout Measure to assist self-diagnosis and clinicians undertaking assessments. They include:
exhaustion as the primary symptom
brain fog (poor concentration and memory)
difficulty finding pleasure in anything
social withdrawal
an unsettled mood (feeling anxious and irritable)
impaired work performance (this may be result of other symptoms such as fatigue).
People can develop a “burning out” phase after intense work demands over only a week or two. A “burnout” stage usually follows years of unrelenting work pressure.
What is depression?
A depressive episode involves a drop in self-worth, increase in self-criticism and feelings of wanting to give up. Not everyone with these symptoms will have clinical depression, which requires a diagnosis and has an additional set of symptoms.
Clinically diagnosed depression can vary by mood, how long it lasts and whether it comes back. There are two types of clinical depression:
melancholic depression has genetic causes, with episodes largely coming “out of the blue”
non-melancholic depression is caused by environmental factors, often triggered by significant life events which cause a drop in self-worth.
Burnout shares some features with melancholic depression, but they tend to be general symptoms, such as feeling a loss of pleasure, energy and concentration skills.
We found there were more similarities between burnout and non-melancholic (environmental) depression. This included a lack of motivation and difficulties sleeping or being cheered up, perhaps reflecting the fact both have environmental causes.
Looking for the root cause
The differences between burnout and depression become clearer when we look at why they happen.
Personality comes into play. Our work suggests a trait like perfectionism puts people at a much higher risk of burnout. But they may be less likely to become depressed as they tend to avoid stressful events and keep things under control.
Those with burnout generally feel overwhelmed by demands or deadlines they can’t meet, creating a sense of helplessness.
On the other hand, those with depression report lowered self-esteem. So rather than helpless they feel that they and their future is hopeless.
However it is not uncommon for someone to experience both burnout and depression at once. For example, a boss may place excessive work demands on an employee, putting them at risk of burnout. At the same time, the employer may also humiliate that employee and contribute to an episode of non-melancholic depression.
What can you do?
A principal strategy in managing burnout is identifying the contributing stressors. For many people, this is the workplace. Taking a break, even a short one, or scheduling some time off can help.
Australians now have the right to disconnect, meaning they don’t have to answer work phone calls or emails after hours. Setting boundaries can help separate home and work life.
Burnout can be also be caused by compromised work roles, work insecurity or inequity. More broadly, a dictatorial organisational structure can make employees feel devalued. In the workplace, environmental factors, such as excessive noise, can be a contributor. Addressing these factors can help prevent burnout.
For non-melancholic depression, clinicians will help address and manage triggers that are the root cause. Others will benefit from antidepressants or formal psychotherapy.
While misdiagnosis between depression and burnout can occur, burnout can mimic other medical conditions such as anemia or hypothyroidism.
For the right diagnosis, it’s best to speak to your doctor or clinician who should seek to obtain a sense of “the whole picture”. Only then, once a burnout diagnsois has been affirmed and other possible causes ruled out, should effective support strategies be put in place.
If this article has raised issues for you, or if you’re concerned about someone you know, call Lifeline on 13 11 14.
Gordon Parker receives funding from the University of of NSW.
Wrangling head lice, and the children they infest, must be up there with the most challenging duties a parent or carer has to face.
And the job is getting harder. Commonly used chemical products aren’t working as well as they once did, meaning head lice are harder to kill.
You can still rid your children of lice – but it’s likely to take some patience and persistence.
Remind me, what are head lice? And nits?
Head lice are tiny six-legged insects that are only found in the hair on a human’s head – most commonly in the hair of primary school-aged children.
Head lice have been a constant companion for humans throughout their millions of years of evolution.
Lice love living in our hair. But they scoot down to our scalp up to a half dozen times a day to drink our blood.
Their claws are perfectly designed to scuttle up and down shafts of hair. But while they’re nimble on our hair, once they’re off, they don’t last long –they’re clumsy, uncoordinated and die quickly.
The term “nits” actually describes the eggs of head lice. They’re often the first sign of an infestation. And with one louse laying more than 100 in their month-long lifespan, there can be a lot of them.
No. Head lice are annoying and their bites may cause skin reactions. But Australian health authorities don’t consider lice a health risk. There is no evidence that head lice can spread pathogens that cause disease.
From child care through to primary school, it’s likely your child has had a head lice infestation at least once. One Australian study found the infestation rate in Australian classrooms ranged from no cases to 72% of children affected.
Girls are more likely to be carry head lice than boys. Long hair means it’s easier for the head lice to hitch a ride.
One study found that in some classrooms, almost three in four children had head lice. CDC/Unsplash
Head lice don’t jump or fly, they move from head to head via direct contact.
Head lice come home with your children because they spend time in close contact with other children, hugging, playing or crowding around books or screens. Any head-to-head contact is a pathway of infections.
Rules differ slightly between states but in New South Wales and Queensland, children don’t need to be kept home from school because of head lice.
How can I keep my home free of head lice?
Keeping the house clean and tidy won’t keep head lice away. They don’t care how clean your bed sheets and towels are, or how frequently you vacuum carpets and rugs.
There may be a risk of head lice transfer on shared pillows, but even that risk is low.
There’s no need to change the child’s or other family member’s bedding when you find lice in a child’s hair. Research-based recommendations from NSW Health are that “bed linen, hats, clothing and furniture do not harbour or transmit lice or nits and that there is no benefit in washing them as a treatment option”.
I’ve used nit solution. Why isn’t it working?
A wide range of products are available at your local pharmacy to treat head lice. Australia’s Therapeutic Goods Administration assesses products to ensure that they are both safe and effective.
The problem is that most of these products are insecticides that kill the lice on contact but may not kill the eggs.
Also, if treatments aren’t completed as directed on product labels, some head lice won’t be killed.
Head lice also seem to be fighting back against the chemicals we’ve been using against them and it’s getting harder to clear children of infestations.
Don’t expect any miracle cures but health authorities in Australia generally recommend the “conditioner and comb” or “wet comb” method. This means you physically remove the lice without the need for chemical applications.
There are three key steps:
immobilise the lice by applying hair conditioner to the child’s damp hair and leaving it there for around 20 minutes
systematically comb through the hair using a fine toothed “lice comb”. The conditioner and lice can be wiped off on paper towels or tissues. Only adult lice will be collected but don’t worry, we’ll deal with the eggs later
repeat the process twice, about a week apart, to break the life cycle of the head lice.
Repeating the process after a week allows the remaining eggs to hatch. It sounds counter-intuitive but by letting them hatch, the young lice are easier to remove than the eggs. You just need to remove them before they start laying a fresh batch of eggs and the infestation continues.
While children are much more likely to have head lice, the reality is that everyone in the household is just as likely to host a head louse or two. You don’t necessarily need everyone to have a treatment but “grown ups” should be on the lookout for lice too.
Cameron Webb and the Department of Medical Entomology, NSW Health Pathology and University of Sydney, have been engaged by a wide range of insect repellent and insecticide manufacturers to provide testing of products and provide expert advice on medically important arthropods. Cameron has also received funding from local, state and federal agencies to undertake research into various aspects of management of various medically important arthropods.
It’s central to any democracy that citizens receive fair treatment under the law. An important part of this is access to legal advice and representation.
But lawyers are expensive. Many people who engage with the justice system can’t afford them.
This is where legal aid comes in. Legal aid is a government-funded service available to some people unable to afford legal assistance. It is tightly targeted and many people are turned away.
Those approved can access professional advice and representation. Many clients are women and children escaping family violence, and Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, who remain vastly overrepresented in the criminal justice system.
But the first ever national census of legal aid private practitioners reveals widespread underfunding, overwhelming workloads and high financial costs borne by the lawyers providing help.
How does legal aid work?
Vulnerable Australians who need essential services often access them from private providers in mixed markets. This is the case for childcare, aged care and the National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS).
It’s also true of legal aid, in which private lawyers play major roles.
Legal Aid Commissions deliver legal aid through a mix of directly employed, in-house practitioners and approved private providers. The mix is heavily weighted toward private providers, although it fluctuates over time and across jurisdictions.
According to National Legal Aid, in 2022–23, 72% of successful legal aid applications were assigned to private practitioners.
To resource this arrangement, private practitioners are funded by grants of aid allocated to approved clients, with amounts regulated through a fixed scale of fees. Legal Aid Commissions in each state and territory usually release grant funds to practitioners in stages, initially to cover advice, investigation and negotiation, with funding extended to cover more work, such as going to trial, if cases progress.
Private practitioners are expected to assist legal aid clients at the same standard of quality they would provide to other, fee-paying clients.
But quality legal representation, especially for highly vulnerable people, is complex and time-consuming.
Our research shows private practitioners feel frustrated that government funding does not cover all activities they need to perform and falls short of meeting community need.
Our research
We surveyed private practitioners who had delivered legal aid in the past two years, or who were listed on legal aid panels or preferred supplier lists.
Among the 1,010 who participated, most were self-employed or working in very small practices. A quarter had delivered legal aid for more than 20 years.
Commitment to legal aid is high, reflected in statements such as “everyone deserves good-quality representation”, and
there is an obligation on professionals to assist in providing access to justice.
Overwhelmingly, private practitioners find legal aid satisfying and meaningful. They also value the way it can build expertise for practitioners early in their legal career.
But despite being enjoyable and enriching work, private practitioners say legal aid is becoming more difficult to deliver.
Bearing the brunt of the cost
Legal aid work can be stressful for practitioners, but their greatest challenge by far is funding.
While there is no illusion that legal aid will be lucrative, private practitioners are frustrated with paltry grants that require significant administration and which undervalue their work.
They feel the funding they receive does not recognise the time required in legal aid cases, nor the growing complexity of cases. As legal aid clients increasingly present with unmet health, social and economic needs, cases are more complex, lengthy and costly.
Announcements of additional funding and better indexation have been welcomed, but aren’t enough to fix the shortfall.
In the census, private practitioners repeatedly told us the funding available does not cover all activities required in legal aid cases or expected by courts. As one practitioner explained:
legal aid matters effectively become pro bono matters near weeks into an initial grant, despite being potentially years-long.
For 85% of private practitioners, “having to perform unremunerated work” is a source of difficulty. More than three-quarters said “trying to do quality work with limited time and resources” makes legal aid cases difficult.
Many private practitioners travel long distances for their legal aid work and feel frustrated when costs are not covered. They also find administration is slow and cumbersome, and feel that Legal Aid Commissions are too understaffed to respond quickly to inquiries.
Although 70% intend to continue to deliver at least some legal aid in the next year, many private practitioners feel undervalued. A third want to reduce their legal aid caseload and one in nine plan to abandon this work altogether.
To continue to deliver legal aid, private practitioners echo scholarly evidence
in calling for better grants, straightforward administration and responsive communication.
Some question why legal aid, as a public good, has come to rest so heavily on the commitment of private practitioners and suggest that in-house staff and the community legal sector play bigger roles.
Ultimately, some private practitioners will find ways to integrate legal aid into their business, or simply wear the cost. But for most, financial costs and risks are too high. Essential services cannot be delivered based on practitioners’ goodwill.
Natasha Cortis conducts commissioned research on social policy and service delivery, for government and non-government organisations. The research this article discusses was commissioned by National Legal Aid.
Megan Blaxland conducts commissioned research on social policy and service delivery for a range of government and non-government organisations. The research this article discusses was commissioned by National Legal Aid.
Spanning more octaves than a piano, humpback whales sing powerfully into the vast ocean. These songs are beautifully complex, weaving phrases and themes into masterful compositions. Blue and fin whales richly fill out a bass section with their own unique versions of song.
Together, these three species can create a marvellous symphony in the sea.
Published today in PLOS One, our new research reveals these baleen whale species’ response to major changes in their ecosystem can be heard in their songs.
Food for long-distance travel
The six-year study took place in whale foraging habitat in the eastern North Pacific, off the coast of California in the United States. From this biologically rich foraging habitat, the whales migrate long distances each year to breeding habitats at lower latitudes.
They eat little to nothing during their migration and winter breeding season. So they need to build up their energy stores during their annual residence in foraging habitat.
This energy, stored in their gigantic bodies, powers the animals through months of long-distance travel, mating, calving, and nursing before they return to waters off California in the spring and summer to resume foraging.
The whales eat krill and fish that can aggregate in massive schools. However, their diets are distinct.
While blue whales only eat krill, humpback whales eat krill and small schooling fish such as anchovy. If the prey species are more abundant and more densely concentrated, whales can forage more efficiently. Foraging conditions and prey availability change dramatically from year to year.
We wanted to know if these changes in the ecosystem were reflected in the whales’ acoustic behaviour.
Piecing together a complex puzzle
To track the occurrence of singing, we examined audio recordings acquired through the Monterey Accelerated Research System. This is a deep-sea observatory operated by the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute and funded by the US National Science Foundation.
Analysis of sound recordings is a highly effective way to study whales because we can hear them from quite far away. If a whale sings anywhere within thousands of square kilometres around the hydrophone, we will hear it.
Yet, piecing together the complex puzzle of whale behavioural ecology requires diverse research methods.
Our study used observations of the whales, including sound recordings, photo identification and diet analysis. It also used measurements of forage species abundance, characterisation of ecosystem conditions and theoretical modelling of sound propagation.
Our ability to probe the complex lives of these giants was enhanced for humpback whales because we had a unique data resource available for this species: extensive photo identification.
The Happywhale community science project combines photos supplied by researchers and ecotourists, and identification enabled by artificial intelligence, to recognise individual whales by the shape and coloration of their flukes.
This unique resource enabled us to examine the local abundance of humpback whales. We could also study the timing of their annual migration and how persistently individual whales occupied the study region.
Scientists used a deep-sea hydrophone to keep a nearly continuous record of the ocean soundscape. MBARI
An increase in food – and in song
The study began in 2015, during a prolonged marine heatwave that caused major disruption in the foraging habitat of whales and other animals throughout the eastern North Pacific.
All three whale species sang the least during the heatwave, and sang more as foraging conditions improved over the next two years.
These patterns provided the first indications that the singing behaviour by whales may be closely related to the food available. Remarkably, whale song is an indicator of forage availability.
Further evidence was found in the striking differences between humpback and blue whales during the later years of the study.
Continued increases in detection of humpback whale song could not be explained by changes in the local abundance of whales, the timing of their annual migration, or the persistence of individuals in the study region.
However, humpback song occurrence closely tracked tremendous increases in the abundances of northern anchovy — the largest increase in 50 years. And when we analysed the skin of the humpback whales, we saw a clear shift to a fish-dominated diet.
In contrast, blue whales only eat krill, and detection of their songs plummeted with large decreases in krill abundance. Our analysis of blue whale skin revealed they were foraging over a larger geographic area to find the food they needed during these hard times in the food web.
Humpback song occurrence closely tracked tremendous increases in the abundances of northern anchovy. evantravels/Shutterstock
Predicting long-term changes
This research shows listening to whales is much more than a rich sensory experience. It’s a window into their lives, their vulnerability, and their resilience.
Humpback whales emerge from this study as a particularly resilient species. They are more able to readily adapt to changes in the ecology of the foraging habitats that sustain them. These findings can help scientists and resource managers predict how marine ecosystems and species will respond to long-term changes driven by both natural cycles and human impacts.
At a time of unprecedented change for marine life and ecosystems, collaboration across disciplines and institutions will be crucial for understanding our changing ocean.
This work was enabled by private research centres, universities and federal agencies working together. This consortium’s past work has revealed a rich new understanding of the ocean soundscape, answering fundamental questions about the ecology of ocean giants.
Who knows what more we will learn as we listen to the ocean’s underwater symphony?
The study’s findings can help scientists better understand how blue whales and other baleen whales respond to long-term changes in the ocean. Ajit S N/Shutterstock
This work was led by John Ryan, a biological oceanographer at the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute (MBARI), with an interdisciplinary team of researchers from MBARI, Southern Cross University, Happywhale.com, Cascadia Research Collective, University of Wisconsin, NOAA Southwest Fisheries Science Centre, University of California, Santa Cruz, Naval Postgraduate School, and Stanford University.
Ted Cheeseman is the co-founder of citizen science project, Happywhale.
Jarrod Santora receives funding from NOAA, NASA, and NSF.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By John Hawkins, Senior Lecturer, Canberra School of Politics, Economics and Society, University of Canberra
Peter Dutton and his Coalition colleagues have dithered for several weeks on their plans for the Commonwealth public sector.
While being upfront that public service jobs would be targeted, they’ve made numerous contradictory statements about the number of public servants who would be sacked if the Coalition wins the coming election.
But Peter Dutton’s most recent comments confirm that he clearly wants to make significant cuts.
And it’s hard to see how the sackings wouldn’t erode important front line services that many Australians depend on for help and support.
36,000 jobs on the line
This week the opposition leader declared the Coalition would achieve A$24 billion in savings by reducing the size of the public service.
He was unequivocal. The money would be clawed back over four years and would more than cover the Coalition’s promised $9 billion injection into Medicare.
Dutton explicitly tied the $24 billion in savings to the 36,000 Commonwealth public servants who have been hired since the last election
Under the Labor Party, there are 36,000 additional public servants, that’s at a cost of $6 billion a year, or $24 billion over the forward estimates. This program totals $9 billion over that period. So, we’ve well and truly identified the savings.
While still not nominating a precise number of job cuts, it’s Peter Dutton’s clearest statement of intent to date. By “truly” identifying the savings, 36,000 jobs are on the line. And it accords with Dutton’s earlier comments that the extra workers are not providing value for money for Australian taxpayers.
(They have) not improved the lives of Australians one iota
While this sounds like he wants to dismiss them all, senior colleagues are more circumspect.
According to Nationals leader David Littleproud, the number of job cuts has not yet been decided. Shadow Public Service Minister Jane Hume further muddied the waters by referring to the cuts being by attrition, and excluding frontline services.
Frontline services
The public service head count has grown to 185,343, as of June 2024. So cutting 36,000 staff, or even a large proportion of that number, would be a very significant reduction.
The agencies that added the most public servants between June 2023 and June 2024 were the National Disability Insurance Agency (up 2,193), Defence (up 1,425), Health and Aged Care (up 1,173) and Services Australia (up 1,149).
Many of these extra staff would be providing invaluable front line services to clients and customer who are accessing essential support.
And some of the new public servants replaced more expensive outsourced workers. Finance Minister Katy Gallagher has claimed the Albanese government has saved $4 billion of taxpayers’ money by reducing spending on consultants and contractors.
Rather than the alleged explosion in the size of the bureaucracy, the growth in public service numbers has closely matched the increase in the population. Last year, they accounted for 1.36% of all employed persons, up by only a minuscule degree on the 1.35% in 2016.
Canberra bashing
According to Dutton, the 36,000 additional public servants hired under Labor all work in Canberra. It was not a slip of the tongue. The claim is also in the Liberal Party’s pre-election pamphlet.
But only 37% of the public service workforce is located in the national capital. Half are based in state capitals. A full quarter of those involved in service delivery work in regional Australia.
The Liberals clearly think they have nothing to lose among Canberra voters, given they have no members or senators from the Australian Capital Territory.
The coming election will no doubt tell us if Canberra bashing still resonates with voters elsewhere in the country. Dutton has clearly made the political judgement that it does.
Another night of the long knives?
A change of government often precipitates a clean out at the top of the public service.
When the Howard government was elected in 1996, no fewer than six departmental secretaries were sacked on the infamous night of the long knives. Then prime minister Tony Abbott dismissed four departmental chiefs in one fell swoop after taking office in 2013. He didn’t even consult his treasurer before dumping the head of Treasury.
This pattern of culling senior public servants represents a chilling risk to good policy development. Departmental secretaries concerned about losing their jobs may be reluctant to give the “frank and fearless advice” their positions demand.
Voters are entitled to know what the Coalition has planned for the public service before they cast their ballots.
The lack of detail on job losses is matched by a reluctance to outline spending cuts elsewhere. Dutton has ruled out an Abbott-style audit commission. He is prepared to cut “wasteful” spending, but won’t say if it may be necessary to also chop some worthwhile outlays to dampen inflationary pressures.
Dutton is adamant that any spending cuts by a government he leads will be determined after the election, not announced before it. This does nothing for democratic accountability. It does not give the electorate the chance to cast their votes on the basis of an alternative vision from the alternative government.
All Australians, not just public servants, deserve to know before polling day just how deep Dutton and the Coalition are really planning to cut.
John Hawkins is a former public servant and lives in Canberra.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Rebecca Strating, Director, La Trobe Asia, and Professor of International Relations, La Trobe University
Debating Australia’s role in world politics is not always high on the political agenda. Elections here are more often fought on economic issues than foreign or defence policy. And while the major parties have different views on foreign policy, there tends to be bipartisanship on the central tenets of our strategic policy, including Australia’s alliance with the United States.
In recent years, however, Australia has found itself wedged between two great powers: its security guarantor, the US, and its major trading partner, China. The increasing strategic competition between these two great powers, especially in Asia, has raised new questions about how Australia should manage these relationships and conceive of its role in the world.
For some countries, having a prominent role on the global stage may be more obvious than for others. Wealthy states with large militaries and populations, for example, often play the part of “great powers”. These countries tend to make claims about their unique rights and responsibilities, such as having a greater say in multilateral institutions (like the United Nations) and the “rules” intended to govern international conduct.
However, most of the world’s countries are not great powers. For a middle-sized nation like Australia, its role on the global stage is not necessarily static but determined by how our leaders balance national interests and values.
These, in turn, are shaped by “material factors”, such as geography, population and economy size, natural resources, shared political ideals (for example, our belief in democratic institutions), norms and culture.
In addition, a middle-sized country’s global role can change depending on how leaders perceive contemporary threats and challenges to their security.
Australia as a ‘middle power’
The National Defence Strategy released in 2024 describes Australia as an “influential middle power”. According to the strategy, this is demonstrated by several things:
our enduring democratic values
our history of safeguarding international rules and contributing to regional partnerships
the strong foundations of our economy
the strength of our partnerships in the Indo-Pacific.
Whether Australia should be described as a “middle power”, though, has long been the subject of political debate. Since H.V. “Doc” Evatt, then-attorney general and minister for external affairs, used the term in 1945, it has been most often (but not always) associated with the Labor Party.
Recent Coalition governments have been more reluctant to view Australia as “just” a middle power.
Alexander Downer, the foreign minister in the Howard government, would occasionally use the term “pivotal power”. Pivotal powers, as one political analyst put it, are “destined to shape the contours of geopolitics in key regions of the world” due to their strategic location, economic power and political influence.
Meanwhile, Julie Bishop, foreign minister in the Abbott and Turnbull administrations, preferred the term “top 20 country”, arguing this better reflected Australia’s standing and level of influence on the global stage.
At the core of this historical debate is the extent to which a country like Australia can – and does – have influence in the region and globally.
Middle powers have different characteristics from great or smaller powers. Size, geography and economic wealth affect the extent to which they can shape the world. As a result, middle powers often adopt certain types of actions or behaviours to enhance their influence.
There are a number of ways middle powers do this, such as by:
supporting adherence to international law and rules (because these can help restrain more powerful states from imposing their will on others)
encouraging cooperation through multilateralism (cooperation between multiple states)
finding creative new solutions to global problems, such as climate change
taking the diplomatic lead on specific, but important, issues.
A liberal-democratic middle power, such as Australia, may also seek to promote its values internationally, including the respect for human rights, free and open trade, and the principles of democratic governance and accountability.
Australia’s reliance on ‘great and powerful friends’
In addition, middle powers often choose to align themselves with a bigger power to boost their influence even further.
In Australia’s case, its strategic dependence on the United States developed, in part, by historical anxieties that faraway “great and powerful friends”, as former diplomat Allan Gyngell phrased it, might abandon it in a potentially hostile region.
Prior to the second world war, Australia relied on its former colonial ruler, Britain, for its security. The Fall of Singapore in 1942, in which Japanese forces routed British and Australian troops defending the island, demonstrated the risks of our overdependence on a distant ally.
In the aftermath of the war, Australia forged a new security alliance with a new global superpower, the United States, through the ANZUS Treaty. Yet, replacing one “great and powerful” but distant friend with another did not alleviate Australia’s abandonment anxieties.
Since then, debates about Australia’s international role have largely focused on the extent to which it can – and should be – self-reliant in the context of the US alliance, or if it should pursue a more independent foreign policy.
US domestic politics – particularly during President Donald Trump’s time in office – have also driven uncertainty about Washington’s reliability, as well as its commitment to Asia and the implications for allies like Australia.
Despite such concerns, Australia’s relationship with the US is as strong and deeply entwined as it has ever been. In fact, it only got stronger during Trump’s first term. While Canberra has sought to deepen engagement with regional states it views as “like-minded”, such as Japan, South Korea and India, it has done so firmly in the context of its broader alliance with the United States.
This, of course, is driven by the new anxieties over China’s rise as a major economic and military power in the region. In recent years, Beijing’s assertive and coercive behaviours in the region have made it the key national security threat facing Australia.
This is a break from the past, when Australian leaders – both Labor and Liberal – broadly agreed that a “pragmatic approach” to engaging great powers meant Canberra would not have to “choose sides” between China and the US.
In 2023, the Albanese government sought a détente of sorts with China, attempting to return to this pragmatic approach. But wariness of Beijing remains.
Prime Minister Anthony Albanese’s visit to Beijing in late 2023.
An Indo-Pacific power?
In the context of these new challenges presented by a rising China, Australia has increasingly leaned into becoming an “Indo-Pacific” power in recent years. There are a number of ways in which this shift is observable.
First, Australia has been instrumental in encouraging the global adoption of this phrase, “Indo-Pacific”, as a new way of referring to the region. This is partly driven by the desire to maintain US leadership and presence in Australia’s neighbourhood. The US is a Pacific state, so this concept anchors the US in our region in a way that “Asia” does not.
And when people used the term “Asia-Pacific” to talk about the region in the past, this had a primarily economic connotation. This is due to the importance of the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) forum and the move towards free-trade agreements between Australia and other countries in the region.
As such, the new term “Indo-Pacific” has become more of a security concept centred on the region’s waters. Generally, it is used to incorporate South, Southeast and Northeast Asia, Oceania (Australia, New Zealand and the Pacific Islands) and the United States. By connecting the Indian (“Indo”) and the Pacific Oceans, it has become primarily a maritime strategic concept.
The narratives usually associated with the Indo-Pacific also relate to the need to protect the international rules-based order, and freedom of navigation and overflight for ships and aircraft in the region. This, again, reflects the growing geopolitical anxieties about a rising China, particularly in the disputed South and East China seas and the Taiwan Strait.
Australia does not have territorial or maritime claims in either sea, but we are nonetheless concerned about China’s efforts to undermine the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) and what this might mean for the “rules-based order” more generally.
The second way Australia is moving more towards becoming a regional power is in the narrowing of its core defence interests to an “inner ring” focused on the South Pacific and maritime Southeast Asia, and to a lesser extent, an “outer ring” in the broader Indo-Pacific and wider world. These geographical boundaries have consequences for how Australia views its international role.
After nearly two decades of military engagement in the Middle East and Afghanistan, Australia is shifting its focus back on its home region. This reflects not just the limits of our military capabilities, but also new concerns about the changing balance of power in Asia.
Third, Australia is increasingly focusing on a more strategic, narrower form of multilateralism. This, too, has been more centred on our region.
Multilateralism has always been seen as an important part of middle power identity. Australia, for instance, played a key role in setting up institutions like the United Nations.
However, this began to shift under recent Coalition governments. Prime Minister Scott Morrison expressed scepticism about such institutions, criticising them as an “often ill-defined borderless global community” that promoted “negative globalism”.
Under successive Coalition governments, Australia instead became a key player in two smaller groups of nations – the re-branded “Quad” in 2017 (along with Japan, the US and India) and AUKUS in 2021 (with the US and United Kingdom).
Under the Albanese government, global multilateralism was reinstated as an important pillar of foreign policy. But Australia’s investment and involvement in these smaller groups has only deepened.
Both AUKUS and the Quad demonstrate Australia’s changing role as a regional power in the Indo-Pacific. These groups offer Australia an opportunity to shape the regional security agenda by joining forces with other powerful states. They also provide a way of encouraging the US to maintain its presence and leadership in the region and to counterbalance China’s rise.
As part of this, Australia has become a key proponent of what the Biden administration coined “integrated deterrence”.
This is a central pillar of the US’ Indo-Pacific strategy that seeks to mobilise “like-minded” states – especially its regional allies such as Australia, Japan and South Korea – to form a regional coalition against rival states. This strategy reflects a growing awareness the US can’t provide security in Asia alone.
The AUKUS security agreement, including the commitment to develop new nuclear-powered submarines for Australia, is a part of this strategy.
Since the announcement of the submarine plan in 2021, both the procurement plan and the language that American and Australian leaders have been using suggest that Canberra is preparing to play a bigger security role in the region alongside the US.
Time for a new ‘strategic imagination’?
Has Australia’s shift to an Indo-Pacific regional power served it well?
It has allowed the deepening of defence relationships with partners like Japan and India. And through its roles in the Quad and AUKUS, Australia has a seat at the table and is more visible in regional security discussions.
But there are risks to a more assertive regional power stance. Australia could be viewed by its neighbours as too focused on military and not invested enough (or in the right way) in diplomacy or regional development. Australia’s overseas aid contribution, for example, has been declining for three decades.
It is also unclear which other regional states are likely to participate in a US-led coalition if a real conflict with China ever broke out. The Quad and AUKUS groups may be viewed by others as exclusionary or contributing to increasing tensions in the region.
How nuclear-powered submarines will “deter” potential adversaries is also yet to be clearly explained. These submarines could potentially entangle Australia in a regional conflict instead. Being able to clearly articulate and distinguish between Australian and US interests will remain vital for ensuring that future governments don’t “sleepwalk” into war.
Finally, Australia’s advocacy of the “rules-based order” has left it – and the US – exposed to criticisms of hypocrisy and double standards, particularly with Washington’s support for Israel’s war on Gaza.
…one which can develop a coherent security strategy by working with old and new allies and partners to shape the regional order in ways that ensure its security.
The approach emphasises the need for all parts of our government to work in coordination to protect Australians from the range of complex conventional and unconventional challenges it faces (including climate change).
Australia’s security and its international role should not be viewed through the lens of the “China threat” alone. Doing so is counter-productive, as many states in the region do not share the same perception about China.
Instead, as Wallis and I wrote, Australia needs a “more comprehensive, nuanced and contingent understanding of the range of security opportunities and threats” we face.
This is an edited extract from How Australian Democracy Works, a new collection of essays from The Conversation on all aspects of the country’s political landscape.
Rebecca Strating receives funding from Australia’s Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By John Hawkins, Senior Lecturer, Canberra School of Politics, Economics and Society, University of Canberra
Peter Dutton and his Coalition colleagues have dithered for several weeks on their plans for the Commonwealth public sector.
While being upfront that public service jobs would be targeted, they’ve made numerous contradictory statements about the number of public servants who would be sacked if the Coalition wins the coming election.
But Peter Dutton’s most recent comments confirm that he clearly wants to make significant cuts.
And it’s hard to see how the sackings wouldn’t erode important front line services that many Australians depend on for help and support.
36,000 jobs on the line
This week the opposition leader declared the Coalition would achieve A$24 billion dollars in savings by reducing the size of the public service.
He was unequivocal. The money would be clawed back over four years and would more than cover the Coalition’s promised $9 billion injection into Medicare.
Dutton explicitly tied the $24 billion in savings to the 36,000 Commonwealth public servants who have been hired since the last election
Under the Labor Party, there are 36,000 additional public servants, that’s at a cost of $6 billion a year, or $24 billion over the forward estimates. This program totals $9 billion over that period. So, we’ve well and truly identified the savings.
While still not nominating a precise number of job cuts, it’s Peter Dutton’s clearest statement of intent to date. By “truly” identifying the savings, 36,000 jobs are on the line. And it accords with Dutton’s earlier comments that the extra workers are not providing value for money for Australian taxpayers.
(They have) not improved the lives of Australians one iota
While this sounds like he wants to dismiss them all, senior colleagues are more circumspect.
According to Nationals leader David Littleproud, the number of job cuts has not yet been decided. Shadow Public Service Minister Jane Hume further muddied the waters by referring to the cuts being by attrition, and excluding frontline services.
Frontline services
The public service head count has grown to 185,343, as of June 2024. So cutting 36,000 staff, or even a large proportion of that number, would be a very significant reduction.
The agencies that added the most public servants between June 2023 and June 2024 were the National Disability Insurance Agency (up 2,193), Defence (up 1,425), Health and Aged Care (up 1,173) and Services Australia (up 1,149).
Many of these extra staff would be providing invaluable front line services to clients and customer who are accessing essential support.
And some of the new public servants replaced more expensive outsourced workers. Finance Minister Katy Gallagher has claimed the Albanese government has saved $4 billion of taxpayers’ money by reducing spending on consultants and contractors.
Rather than the alleged explosion in the size of the bureaucracy, the growth in public service numbers has closely matched the increase in the population. Last year, they accounted for 1.36% of all employed persons, up by only a minuscule degree on the 1.35% in 2016.
Canberra bashing
According to Dutton, the 36,000 additional public servants hired under Labor all work in Canberra. It was not a slip of the tongue. The claim is also in the Liberal Party’s pre-election pamphlet.
But only 37% of the public service workforce is located in the national capital. Half are based in state capitals. A full quarter of those involved in service delivery work in regional Australia.
The Liberals clearly think they have nothing to lose among Canberra voters, given they have no members or senators from the Australian Capital Territory.
The coming election will no doubt tell us if Canberra bashing still resonates with voters elsewhere in the country. Dutton has clearly made the political judgement that it does.
Another night of the long knives?
A change of government often precipitates a clean out at the top of the public service.
When the Howard government was elected in 1996, no fewer than six departmental secretaries were sacked on the infamous night of the long knives. Then prime minister Tony Abbott dismissed four departmental chiefs in one fell swoop after taking office in 2013. He didn’t even consult his treasurer before dumping the head of Treasury.
This pattern of culling senior public servants represents a chilling risk to good policy development. Departmental secretaries concerned about losing their jobs may be reluctant to give the “frank and fearless advice” their positions demand.
Voters are entitled to know what the Coalition has planned for the public service before they cast their ballots.
The lack of detail on job losses is matched by a reluctance to outline spending cuts elsewhere. Dutton has ruled out an Abbott-style audit commission. He is prepared to cut “wasteful” spending, but won’t say if it may be necessary to also chop some worthwhile outlays to dampen inflationary pressures.
Dutton is adamant that any spending cuts by a government he leads will be determined after the election, not announced before it. This does nothing for democratic accountability. It does not give the electorate the chance to cast their votes on the basis of an alternative vision from the alternative government.
All Australians, not just public servants, deserve to know before polling day just how deep Dutton and the Coalition are really planning to cut.
John Hawkins is a former public servant and lives in Canberra.
Quantum technology is no longer confined to the lab – it’s making its way into our everyday lives. Now, it’s about to transform something even more fundamental: how we navigate the world.
Imagine submarines travelling beneath the ocean, never needing to surface for location updates. Planes flying across continents with unshakeable precision, unaffected by signal disruptions.
Emergency responders could navigate smoke-filled buildings or underground tunnels with flawless accuracy, while autonomous vehicles chart perfect courses through dense urban environments.
These scenarios might sound like science fiction, but they can all be made possible with an emerging approach known as quantum navigation.
This game-changing tech will one day redefine movement, exploration and connectivity in ways we’re only just beginning to imagine. So, what is it?
Satellite navigation is at the heart of many things
Global navigation satellite systems, like GPS, are deeply embedded in modern society. We use them daily for navigation, ordering deliveries and tagging photo locations. But their impact goes far beyond convenience.
Timing signals from satellites in Earth’s orbit authenticate stock market trades and help balance the electricity grid. In agriculture, satellite navigation guides autonomous tractors and helps muster cattle.
Emergency services rely on navigation satellite systems for rapid response, reducing the time it takes to reach those in need.
Despite their benefits, systems like GPS are quite vulnerable. Satellite signals can be jammed or interfered with. This can be due to active warfare, terrorism or for legitimate (or illegitimate) privacy concerns. Maps like GPSJAM show real-time interference hotspots, such as those in the Middle East, areas around Russia and Ukraine, and Myanmar.
The environment of space isn’t constant, either. The Sun regularly ejects giant balls of plasma, causing what we know as solar storms. These emissions slam into Earth’s magnetic field, disrupting satellites and GPS signals. Often these effects are temporary, but they can also cause significant damage, depending on the severity of the storm.
An outage of global navigation satellite systems would be more than an inconvenience – it would disrupt our most critical infrastructure.
Estimates suggest a loss of GPS would cost just the United States economy about US$1 billion per day (A$1.5 billion), causing cascading failures across interconnected systems.
Quantum navigation to the rescue
In some environments, navigation signals from satellites don’t work very well. They don’t penetrate water or underground spaces, for example.
If you’ve ever tried to use Google Maps in a built-up city with skyscrapers, you may have run into issues. Tall buildings cause signal reflections that degrade accuracy, and signals are weakened or completely unavailable inside buildings.
This is where quantum navigation could step in one day.
Quantum science describes the behaviour of particles at scales smaller than an atom. It reveals mind-boggling effects like superposition – particles existing in multiple states simultaneously – and entanglement (when particles are connected through space and time in ways that defy classical understanding).
These effects are fragile and typically collapse under observation, which is why we don’t notice them in everyday life. But the very fragility of quantum processes also lets them work as exquisite sensors.
A sensor is a device that detects changes in the world around it and turns that information into a signal we can measure or use. Think automatic doors that open when we walk near them, or phone screens that respond to our touch.
Quantum sensors are so sensitive because quantum particles react to tiny changes in their environment. Unlike normal sensors, which can miss weak signals, quantum sensors are extremely good at detecting even the smallest changes in things like time, gravity or magnetic fields.
Their sensitivity comes from how easily quantum states change when something in their surroundings shifts, allowing us to measure things with much greater accuracy than before.
This precision is critical for robust navigation systems.
Our team is researching new ways to use quantum sensors to measure Earth’s magnetic field for navigation. By using quantum effects in diamonds, we can detect Earth’s magnetic field in real time and compare the measurements to pre-existing magnetic field maps, providing a resilient alternative to satellite navigation like GPS.
Since magnetic signals are unaffected by jamming and work underwater, they offer a promising backup system.
A quantum magnetometer used in our research. Swinburne University/RMIT/Phasor
The future of navigation
The future of navigation will integrate quantum sensors to enhance location accuracy (via Earth’s magnetic and gravitational fields), improve orientation (via quantum gyroscopes), and enable superior timing (through compact atomic clocks and interconnected timekeeping systems).
These technologies promise to complement and, in some cases, provide alternatives to traditional satellite-based navigation.
However, while the potential of quantum navigation is clear, making it a practical reality remains a significant challenge. Researchers and companies worldwide are working to refine these technologies, with major efforts underway in academia, government labs and industry.
Startups and established players are developing prototypes of quantum accelerometers (devices that measure movement) and gyroscopes, but most remain in early testing phases or specialised applications.
Key hurdles include reducing the size and power demands of quantum sensors, improving their stability outside of controlled laboratory settings, and integrating them into existing navigation systems.
Cost is another barrier – today’s quantum devices are expensive and complex, meaning widespread adoption is still years away.
If these challenges can be overcome, quantum navigation could reshape everyday life in subtle but profound ways. While quantum navigation won’t replace GPS overnight, it could become an essential part of the infrastructure that keeps the world moving.
Allison Kealy is affiliated with Quantum Australia as a board member.
Allison Kealy is a research collaborator with RMIT University and Phasor Quantum.
From the supermarket to the petrol pump, many Australians are concerned about the power of large corporations. Are consumers getting a fair deal? Do they have enough choice?
This week, the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission (ACCC) is due to hand the government the final report from its inquiry into Australia’s supermarket sector. They have already said the sector is highly concentrated, with just a few sellers controlling prices and exploiting small suppliers.
This advocacy highlights a key source of pressure on wallets. The ACCC is also pursuing consumer law claims against the big supermarkets for creating the “illusion” of discounted prices.
But across the economy, it is unlikely consumer interests are being protected as much as they could be. Further reforms in competition law would help.
In some countries, consumers can band together to sue private companies and demand compensation if they’ve been harmed by anti-competitive behaviour.
Australian consumers can sue companies too – but it can be burdensome, expensive and complicated. In fact, consumer suits seeking damages for such conduct are rare. Australia could make it easier to fight back.
The problem
Treasury will wrap up a major review of competition law in August.
Two areas of reform have rightly been given particular attention: a merger law for the whole economy, and special rules for large digital platforms.
The ACCC is Australia’s competition regulator and consumer law advocate. Jarretera/Shutterstock
The merger reform has led to amendments to help the ACCC protect markets and a consultation on regulating platforms which has recently concluded.
Treasury is considering other reforms as well. However, putting consumers in a better position to claim damages for anti-competitive conduct is not on the agenda.
That is unfortunate. Consumers should feel more secure using competition law to demand compensation for anti-competitive harm. As the ACCC has said, the annual damage caused by cartels could amount to hundreds of millions of dollars, a staggering figure.
Even when the ACCC and the Commonwealth Director of Public Prosecutions succeed in bringing cartellists to court to obtain penalties or even criminal sentences, it is a way to punish and deter. It does not make victims whole.
Overseas solutions
Australia lags behind its global counterparts.
In 2005, the European Union launched a debate on this subject. Laws were passed to ensure victims of anti-competitive conduct have a right to full compensation.
The European Union has seen a growth in private competition law actions. MDart10/Shutterstock
Since then, it appears to have become easier for consumers there to seek damages. From 2014 to 2019, one study showed a fivefold increase in the number of cases lodged in the EU, from 50 up to 239 private claims seeking compensation.
In the United States, private antitrust enforcement thrives due to large class actions, where consumers with a similar grievance come together to take action against corporate defendants.
US antitrust law allows treble damages, which means consumers can in theory receive three times the value of any harm suffered plus the costs of the lawsuit. In reality they recover less than that, but with large classes of claimants, the incentives to pursue claims through litigation and settlements are strong.
The Australian situation
On paper, private enforcement of competition law already exists in Australia. However, incentives appear weaker here.
In the EU and US, class actions are designed to encourage claimants to seek compensation for anti-competitive harm, but the rarity of such claims in Australia suggests the settings aren’t quite right.
A class action against major banks for allegedly rigging exchange rates, and a recently lodged class action against Google relating to its AdTech operations, are the exceptions, not the rule.
A 2012 article in the UNSW Law Journal said it was “time for an Australian debate”, but little has happened since.
What now? Here are some possible reforms
Various reforms and initiatives could bolster private enforcement in Australia, including:
1. Reviewing evidence rules to allow judges to order the disclosure of documents collected during investigations, provided the public interest is not compromised. If evidence is too hard to access, victims of cartels have no chance of proving their case.
2. Making it easier for a willing defendant to settle out of court. Sometimes, one defendant in a cartel case may be open to settling out of court but the other defendants are not. In such a case, to make it easier for the willing defendant to settle, it could be clarified that the non-settling defendants – if eventually ordered to pay the claimants – cannot then reclaim part of those damages as a “contribution” from the defendant that did settle.
Without this assurance, individual defendants that would otherwise be ready to settle may hesitate for fear of paying more than their share.
3. The ACCC could also more aggressively seek redress for consumers, which would reduce the need for damages actions. So far, the ACCC and the Commonwealth Director of Public Prosecutions have not made enough use of their ability to seek orders granting such compensation in cartel cases.
Competition law should also be about securing relief for victims to make them whole, and to boost their trust in markets. Facilitating private rights of action for consumers can help to elevate justice in this area of the law.
Mel Marquis has in the past received research grants funded by the Commonwealth of Australia and administered by the ACCC. He is a member of the Competition and Consumer Committee of the Law Institute of Victoria. The views expressed are personal to the author.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Fiona MacDonald, Principal Research Fellow, Institute for Sustainable Industries and Liveable Cities, Victoria University
About one in four students report being regularly bullied in Australian schools.
Children who are bullied can feel anxious and excluded, stop sleeping and eating well, and lose interest in school. There are serious potential long-term effects, which include anxiety and depression. Being bullied is also a risk factor for suicidal thoughts and behaviours.
Following the 2024 death of Sydney Year 7 student Charlotte O’Brien, the federal government wants to develop a national standard to address bullying in schools.
It has just announced a “rapid review” of bullying in schools, to be done in six months (though not before the federal election). This will look at what schools currently do to address bullying and what they should be doing.
What does the research tell us works when it comes to addressing bullying in schools?
It also involves a power imbalance in favour of the perpetrator.
As well as physical abuse, these behaviours can involve verbal teasing, harassment, damaging property, and antisocial behaviours such as spreading gossip or excluding someone. It can happen in person or online.
Much of the early research response to incidents on school bullying focused on the perpetrator and victim, and what the school should do in response to the bullying incident.
This involved senior teachers such as the principal and school counsellor meeting with the perpetrator and victim and their parents/guardians. Here they would work out strategies to try and make amends and prevent future incidents.
For example, a perpetrator may have had to apologise to the victim and take on additional responsibilities in the school. They may also be warned about suspension or exclusion.
But these responses do not address the complexity of bullying. This includes the reasons why a child might bully another as well as its broader impact. Often other students are also inadvertently involved in or affected by bullying. Seeing someone else being bullied can be upsetting, students may feel angry, sad or concerned they may also be bullied.
The shift to prevention
So more recent research has emphasised the importance of prevention to reduce rates of school bullying. This could include anti-bullying policies, classroom rules and discussions about bullying as well as information for parents.
This relies on what researchers call a “whole school approach”. Instead of bullying being seen as the responsibility of the principal or other senior teachers to deal with a few “at risk” kids, it is the responsibility of all staff, students and parents – and even the broader community.
This means students are educated to understand what is and is not bullying and what to do if they witness it. It also means teachers have clear policies to follow and a clear understanding of “gateway behaviours,” which can escalate into bullying. Parents likewise know what to do if their child is being bullied or the kinds of behaviours that can lead up to it – such as namecalling or eyerolling.
Other measures could include a dedicated staff member to champion anti-bullying measures in the school and partnerships with community members and organisations. This could be junior sporting clubs or even the school crossing guard (who can provide information about antisocial behaviours they observe).
The aim is to create a school culture which is safe and supportive for students, where harmful behaviour is clearly understood and dealt with early if it happens.
Current research also emphasises the importance of schools regularly collecting, analysing and acting on data about bullying and the school environment. This enables schools to identify changes within the school environment before they escalate to bullying.
Schools already collect data about their students and behaviours, including attendance, playground incidents and their attitudes to school. But many don’t have the time or expertise to analyse it.
Listening to students
Research also shows anti-bullying efforts are more effective when students are involved.
This helps build trust between students, families and school staff, gives students a sense of ownership about solutions. Importantly it also enables young people to share their perspectives about what will work in their lives and classrooms.
This could include schools regularly asking students about bullying and other issues they are having at schools and genuinely considering their suggestions about how to improve both prevention and responses.
Fiona MacDonald received funding from Alannah & Madeline Foundation for this research.
Nina Van Dyke received funding from the Alannah & Madeline Foundation for this research.
Heat takes it out of you. After a long, hot day, we feel tired and grumpy.
But sustained periods of heat do more than that – they age us faster. Cumulative heat stress changes our epigenetics – how our cells turn on or off gene switches in response to environmental pressure.
Now, new research from the United States explores the pressing question of how extreme heat affects humans. The findings are concerning. The more days of intense heat a participant endured, the faster they aged. Longer periods of extreme heat accelerated ageing in older people by more than two years.
As the climate heats up, humans will be exposed to more and more heat – and our bodies will respond to these stresses by ageing faster. These findings are especially pertinent to Australia, where heatwaves are expected to become more frequent and intense in a warmer world.
How, exactly, does heat age us?
Ageing is natural. But the rate of ageing varies from human to human. As we go through life, our bodies are affected by stresses and shocks. For instance, if we don’t get enough sleep over a long period, we will age faster.
While heat can directly sicken or kill us, it also has a long tail. Sustained heat stresses our bodies and make them less efficient at doing the many jobs needed to stay alive. This is what we mean when we say it accelerates biological ageing. This deterioration is likely to precede the later development of diseases and disabilities.
What does that look like on a genetic level? You might think your genes don’t change over your life, and this is mostly true (apart from random mutations).
But what does change is how your genes are expressed. That is, while your DNA stays the same, your cells can switch some of its thousands of genes off or on in response to stresses. At any one time, only a fraction of the genes in any cell are turned on – meaning they are busy making proteins.
This is known as epigenetics. The most common and best understood pathway here is called DNA methylation (DNAm). Methylation here refers to a chemical our cells can use to block a DNA sequence from activating and producing proteins with various functions. Cellular changes in DNAm can lead to proteins being produced more or less, which in turn can flow on to affect physiological functions and our health status. This can be both bad or good.
Heat stress can alter the pattern of which genes are turned off or on, which in turn can affect our rate of ageing.
Severe heat stress can be remembered in cells, leading them to change their DNAm patterns over time. In laboratory testing, the effect is pronounced in fish, chickens, guinea pigs and mice.
To date, much research on how heat affects epigenetics has focused on animals and plants. Here, the evidence is clear – even a single episode of extreme heat has been shown to have a long-lasting effect on mice.
But only a couple of studies have been done involving humans, and they have been limited. This is the gap this new research is intended to help fill.
The study by researchers at the University of Southern California involved almost 3,700 people, with an average age of 68 years.
Heat affects older people more than younger people. Our ability to control our body temperature drops as we age, and we are less resilient to outside stresses and shocks. We also know periods of extreme heat trigger a wave of illness and death, especially among older people.
The study set out to better understand what happens to human bodies at a biological level when they’re exposed to intense heat over the short, medium and longer term.
To do this, the researchers took blood samples and measured epigenetic changes at thousands of sites across the genome, which were used to calculate three clocks measuring biological age, named PcPhenoAge, PCGrimAge and DunedinPACE.
Then, they looked at the levels of heat each participant would have been exposed in their geographic areas over the preceding six years, which was 2010–16. They used the US heat index to assess heat, from caution (days up to 32°C), extreme caution (32–39°C) and danger (39–51°C). They used regression modelling to see how much faster people were ageing over the normal rate of ageing.
The effect of heat was clear in the three biological clocks. Longer term exposure to intense heat increased biological age by 2.48 years over the six year period of the study according to PCPhenoAge, 1.09 years according to PCGrimAge and 0.05 years according to DunedinPACE.
Over the period of the study, the effect was up to 2.48 years faster than normal ageing, where one calendar year equals one biological year of ageing. That is, rather than their bodies ageing the equivalent of six years over a six year period, heat could have aged their bodies up to 8.48 years.
Importantly, the biological clocks differ quite substantially and we don’t yet know why. The authors suggest the PCPhenoAge clock may capture a broader spectrum of biological ageing, covering both short term and longer term heat stress, while the other two may be more sensitive to long term heat exposure.
The way these researchers have conducted their study gives us confidence in their findings – the study sample was large and representative, and the use of the heat index rather than air temperature is an improvement over previous studies. However, the findings don’t account for whether the participants had airconditioning in their homes or spent much time outside.
We need to know more
Perhaps surprisingly, there has been little research done to date on what heat does to human epigenetics.
In 2020, we conducted a systemic review of the science of how environment affects human epigenetics. We found only seven studies, with most focused on the effect of cold rather than heat.
Now we have this new research which sheds light on the extent to which heat ages us.
As we face a warmer future, our epigenetics will change in response. There is still a lot of work to do to see how we can adapt to these changes – or if we even can, in some parts of the world.
Rongbin Xu received funding from VicHealth.
Shuai Li receives funding from NHMRC, Cancer Australia, Victorian Cancer Agency, Cancer Council Victoria and NIH.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Hinrich Schaefer, Research Scientist Trace Gases, National Institute of Water and Atmospheric Research (NIWA)
Baring Head station, overlooking Cook Strait, is one of the places where air samples are collected to track greenhouse gases.Author provided, CC BY-SA
Imagine for a moment the atmosphere is a kitchen sink. Wildfires, industry emissions, plants and microbes dump their grimy dishes into it in the form of noxious and planet-heating gases.
The only reason why these gases are not continuously accumulating in the atmosphere and we are not choking in a giant smog cloud is that the atmosphere makes its own detergent: hydroxyl.
The hydroxyl radical (OH) is generated in complex chemical cycles and removes organic gases by reacting with them. This includes the potent greenhouse gas methane – OH removes about 90% of it from the atmosphere.
An important question for climate scientists is whether our ongoing emissions could use up the OH detergent and leave the atmosphere less able to cleanse itself.
While that may seem likely, we also emit compounds like nitrogen oxides (from engines and power plants) that increase OH production. Which of the two processes dominates and whether OH levels are going up or down has been hotly debated.
But as we show in our new study, OH has been increasing and the atmosphere’s self-cleaning ability has been strengthening since 1997.
This finding gets us a step closer to understanding what happens to methane once it enters the atmosphere. While it is good news that the atmosphere’s scrubbing capacity has been increasing, it also suggests that methane emissions are rising faster than scientists and policy makers assumed.
Complex measurements
OH is very challenging to measure directly. It only exists for a second before it reacts again.
Instead, we used the radiocarbon content of carbon monoxide (14CO) as a footprint of OH activity. Only reaction with OH removes 14CO, which makes it a robust tracer and indicates how much OH is in the air.
The 14CO radioactive isotope (which is chemically the same as carbon monoxide but heavier) forms when cosmic rays start a chain of reactions in the atmosphere. We can calculate this production rate accurately and therefore know how much 14CO enters the atmosphere.
For each of the hundreds of data points used in our study, we used air samples collected at two remote stations in New Zealand and Antarctica, respectively, over the past 33 years.
From these samples, we isolated only the carbon monoxide, which we then turned into carbon dioxide and eventually into graphite (pure carbon) to measure how many of the graphite atoms represent the carbon isotope 14C.
Confirmation by modelling
We found a statistically significant decrease in 14CO over the past 25 years. This can only be caused by an increase in OH.
Our computer model that calculates climate and atmospheric chemistry confirms this. The combination of measurements and simulations shows that OH is increasing, but proves it only for the Southern Hemisphere where we have collected samples.
This is interesting because this part of the world is affected by the “grime” gases, including methane, that react with OH but is far from more industrialised regions that emit compounds that generate OH (especially nitrogen oxides).
If we can detect an OH rise in the more pristine southern hemisphere, chances are the increase is global. Indeed, our model shows that OH is likely rising faster in the northern hemisphere.
The simulations also suggest the main factors at play. Higher methane fluxes suppress OH, as expected, and by themselves would cause a downward trend. In contrast, nitrogen oxide emissions, ozone depletion in the stratosphere and global warming favour the formation of new OH, turning the balance to an overall increase.
These findings are a big step in the understanding of atmospheric chemistry. They show that rising OH levels have so far saved us from even faster rising atmospheric methane levels and the associated warming.
Currently, urban and industrial pollution of nitrogen oxides maintains this state. But the danger is that the very necessary efforts to clean up these pollutants could cut the OH supply to the atmospheric kitchen sink. With less detergent and the same input of grime, the dishwater will turn dirty.
Hinrich Schaefer does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article.
Anyone who needs to make their first appointment with a psychiatrist may expect a bit of a wait. Our new research shows Australians are waiting an average 77 days for this initial appointment. But some were waiting for at least eight months.
We also showed people are waiting longer and longer for these appointments over the past decade or so, particularly in regional and remote areas. And telehealth has not reduced this city-country disparity.
Our study is the first of its kind to look at the national picture of wait times for a first appointment with a psychiatrist. Here’s why our findings are so concerning.
What we did
We analysed data from the Medicare Benefits Schedule from 2011 to 2022. This allowed us to analyse trends in wait times without accessing individual patients’ medical records.
The particular dataset we used allowed us to look at the time from a GP referral to the first appointment with a private psychiatrist.
A first appointment with a psychiatrist is crucial as it may lead to an official diagnosis if there is not one already, or it may map out future treatment options, including whether medicine or hospital admission is needed. Depending on the situation, treatment may start immediately, then be reviewed at subsequent appointments. However, with a delayed initial appointment, there’s the risk of delayed diagnosis and treatment, and symptoms worsening.
We focused on wait times for initial outpatient appointments with private psychiatrists, and looked at wait times for face-to-face and telehealth attendances separately.
We did not include wait times to see psychiatrists at public hospitals. And we couldn’t see what psychiatry appointments were for, and how urgent it was for a patient to see a psychiatrist at short notice.
What we found
We found wait times for the first psychiatry appointment after a GP referral had increased steadily in the past decade or so, especially since 2020. In 2011, the mean waiting time was 51 days, rising to 77 days by 2022.
Waiting times varied substantially between patients. For example, in 2022, 25% of the wait times for a face-to-face appointment were under ten days. But 95% of wait times were under 258 days. This means the longest wait times were more than 258 days.
For telehealth services in 2022, the equivalent wait times ranged from 11 to 235 days.
Wait times also varied by location. People in regional and remote areas consistently had longer wait times than those living in major cities, for both in-person and telehealth services.
The disparity remained over time, except for in-person services during the early years of the COVID pandemic. This is when rural areas in Australia had fewer lockdowns and less stringent movement restrictions compared to major cities.
Why didn’t telehealth help?
Our study did not look at reasons for increasing wait times. However, longer waits do not appear to be due to increased demand, considering the total number of visits has not gone up. For example, we showed the total number of visits for combined in-person and telehealth first appointments was 108,630 in 2020, 111,718 in 2021, and 104,214 in 2022.
But what about telehealth? This has widely been touted as a boon for regional and remote Australians, as it allows them to access psychiatry services without the time and expense of having to travel long distances.
Telehealth took off in 2020 due to COVID. There were 2,066 total first psychiatry visits between 2011 and 2019, increasing to 12,860 in 2020. But in 2022, there were 27,527.
However, we found the number of telehealth visits offset the number of face-to-face visits, and the total visits remained stable in recent years. As telehealth still takes up psychiatrists’ time, it did not help to reduce wait times.
What are the implications?
The national rise in wait times over the past decade or so is concerning, especially for high-risk patients with severe mental disorders, such as schizophrenia, severe depression and bipolar disorder. Any delays in treatment for these patients could cause substantial harms to them and others in their communities.
Our results also come at a time of increased pressure on mental health services more broadly including:
long wait times for people with a mental health concern to be admitted from the emergency department to a hospital ward
Now, more than ever, we need to pay continued attention to access and distribution of psychiatric services across Australia.
Yuting Zhang has received funding from the Australian Research Council (future fellowship project ID FT200100630), Department of Veterans’ Affairs, the Victorian Department of Health, and National Health and Medical Research Council. In the past, Professor Zhang has received funding from several US institutes including the US National Institutes of Health, Commonwealth fund, Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality, and Robert Wood Johnson Foundation. She has not received funding from for-profit industry including the private health insurance industry.
Ou Yang 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.
When Kim Kardashian posted on Instagram about having had a full-body MRI, she enthused that the test can be “life saving”, detecting diseases in the earliest stages before symptoms arise.
What Kardashian neglected to say was there’s no evidence this expensive scan can bring benefits for healthy people. She also didn’t mention it can carry harms including unnecessary diagnoses and inappropriate treatments.
With this post in mind, we wanted to explore what influencers are telling us about medical tests.
In a new study published today in JAMA Network Open, we analysed nearly 1,000 Instagram and TikTok posts about five popular medical tests which can all do more harm than good to healthy people, including the full-body MRI scan.
We found the overwhelming majority of these posts were utterly misleading.
5 controversial tests
Before we get into the details of what we found, a bit about the five tests included in our study.
While these tests can be valuable to some, all five carry the risk of overdiagnosis for generally healthy people. Overdiagnosis is the diagnosis of a condition which would have never caused symptoms or problems. Overdiagnosis leads to overtreatment, which can cause unnecessary side effects and stress for the person, and wasted resources for the health system.
Overdiagnosis is a global problem, and it’s driven in part by healthy people having tests like these. Often, they’re promoted under the guise of early screening, as a way to “take control” of your health. But most healthy people simply don’t need them.
These are the five tests we looked at:
The full-body MRI scan claims to test for up to 500 conditions, including cancer. Yet there is no proven benefit of the scan for healthy people, and a real risk of unnecessary treatment from “false alarm” diagnoses.
The “egg timer” test (technically known as the AMH, or anti-mullarian hormone test) is often falsely promoted as a fertility test for healthy women. While it may be beneficial for women within a fertility clinic setting, it cannot reliably predict the chance of a woman conceiving, or menopause starting. However, low results can increase fear and anxiety, and lead to unnecessary and expensive fertility treatments.
Multi-cancer early detection blood tests are being heavily marketed as the “holy grail of cancer detection”, with claims they can screen for more than 50 cancers. In reality, clinical trials are still a long way from finished. There’s no good evidence yet that the benefits will outweigh the harms of unnecessary cancer diagnoses.
The gut microbiome test of your stool promises “wellness” via early detection of many conditions, from flatulence to depression, again without good evidence of benefit. There’s also concern that test results can lead to wasted resources.
Multi-cancer early detection blood tests are heavily marketed. Yuri A/Shutterstock
What we found
Together with an international group of health researchers, we analysed 982 posts pertaining to the above tests from across Instagram and TikTok. The posts we looked at came from influencers and account holders with at least 1,000 followers, some with a few million followers. In total, the creators of the posts we included had close to 200 million followers.
Even discounting the bots, that’s a massive amount of influence (and likely doesn’t reflect their actual reach to non-followers too).
The vast majority of posts were misleading, failing to even mention the possibility of harm arising from taking one of these tests. We found:
87% of posts mentioned test benefits, while only 15% mentioned potential harms
only 6% of posts mentioned the risk of overdiagnosis
only 6% of posts discussed any scientific evidence, while 34% of posts used personal stories to promote the test
68% of influencers and account holders had financial interests in promoting the test (for example, a partnership, collaboration, sponsorship or selling for their own profit in some way).
Further analysis revealed medical doctors were slightly more balanced in their posts. They were more likely to mention the harms of the test, and less likely to have a strongly promotional tone.
As all studies do, ours had some limitations. For example, we didn’t analyse comments connected to posts. These may give further insights into the information being provided about these tests, and how social media users perceive them.
Nonetheless, our findings add to the growing body of evidence showing misleading medical information is widespread on social media.
What can we do about it?
Experts have proposed a range of solutions including pre-bunking strategies, which means proactively educating the public about common misinformation techniques.
However, solutions like these often place responsibility on the individual. And with all the information on social media to navigate, that’s a big ask, even for people with adequate health literacy.
What’s urgently needed is stronger regulation to prevent misleading information being created and shared in the first place. This is especially important given social media platforms including Instagram are moving away from fact-checking.
In the meantime, remember that if information about medical tests promoted by influencers sounds too good to be true, it probably is.
Brooke Nickel receives fellowship funding from the National Health and Medical Research Council (NHMRC). She is on the Scientific Committee of the Preventing Overdiagnosis Conference.
Joshua Zadro receives fellowship funding from the National Health and Medical Research Council (NHMRC).
Ray Moynihan has received research funding from the National Health and Medical Research Council.
This approach is characterised by strategic investment, efficient innovation and careful regulatory oversight. And it’s evident throughout China’s broader AI landscape, of which DeepSeek is just one player.
In fact, the country has a vast ecosystem of AI companies.
They may not be globally recognisable names like other AI companies such as DeepSeek, OpenAI and Anthropic. But each has carved out their own speciality and is contributing to the development of this rapidly evolving technology.
Tech giants and startups
The giants of China’s technology industry include Baidu, Alibaba and Tencent. All these companies are investing heavily in AI development.
Alibaba CEO Eddie Wu earlier this month said the multibillion dollar company plans to “aggressively invest” in its pursuit of developing AI that is equal to, or more advanced than, human intelligence.
The company is already working with Apple to incorporate its existing AI models into Chinese iPhones. (Outside China, iPhones offer similar integration with OpenAI’s ChatGPT.)
But a new generation of smaller, specialised AI companies has also emerged.
For example, Shanghai-listed Cambricon Technologies focuses on AI chip development. Yitu Technology specialises in healthcare and smart city applications.
Multibillion dollar Chinese tech company Alibaba plans to aggressively invest in AI. testing/Shutterstock
Innovative paths to success
Despite United States’ chip sanctions and China’s restricted information environment, these Chinese AI companies have found paths to success.
US companies such as OpenAI have trained their large language models on the open internet. But Chinese companies have used vast datasets from domestic platforms such as WeChat, Weibo and Zhihu. They also use government-authorised data sources.
Many Chinese AI companies also embrace open-source development. This means they publish detailed technical papers and release their models for others to build upon. This approach focuses on efficiency and practical application rather than raw computing power.
The result is a distinctly Chinese approach to AI.
Importantly, China’s state support for AI development has also been substantial. Besides the central government, local and provincial governments have provided massive funding through venture funds, subsidies and tax incentives.
China has also established at least 48 data exchanges across different cities in recent years. These are authorised marketplaces where AI companies can purchase massive datasets in a regulated environment.
By 2028, China also plans to establish more than 100 “trusted data spaces”.
These are secure, regulated environments designed to standardise data exchanges across sectors and regions. They will form the foundation of a comprehensive national data market, allowing access to and use of diverse datasets within a controlled framework.
A strong education push
The growth of the AI industry in China is also tied to a strong AI education push.
In 2018, China’s Ministry of Education launched an action plan for accelerating AI innovation in universities.
Publicly available data shows 535 universities have established AI undergraduate majors and some 43 specialised AI schools and research institutes have also been created since 2017. (In comparison, there are at least 14 colleges and universities in the United States offering formal AI undergraduate degrees.)
Together, these institutions are building an AI talent pipeline in China. This is crucial to Beijing’s ambition of becoming a global AI innovation leader by 2030.
China’s AI strategy combines extensive state support with targeted regulation. Rather than imposing blanket controls, regulators have developed a targeted approach to managing AI risks.
They impose content-related obligations specifically on public-facing generative AI services, such as ensuring all content created and services provided are lawful, uphold core socialist values and respect intellectual property rights. These obligations, however, exclude generative AI used for enterprise, research and development. This allows for some unrestricted innovation.
There are 43 specialised AI schools and research institutes in China, including at Renmen University in Beijing. humphery/Shutterstock
International players
China and the US dominate the global AI landscape. But several significant players are emerging elsewhere.
For example, France’s Mistral AI has raised over €1 billion (A$1.6 billion) to date to build large language models. In comparison, OpenAI raised US$6.6 billion (A$9.4 billion) in a recent funding round, and is in talks to raise a further US$40 billion.
Other European companies are focused on specialised applications, specific industries or regional markets. For example, Germany’s Aleph Alpha offers an AI tool that allows companies to customise third-party models for their own purposes
In the United Kingdom, Graphcore is manufacturing AI chips and Wayve is making autonomous driving AI systems.
Challenging conventional wisdom
DeepSeek’s breakthrough last month demonstrated massive computing infrastructure and multibillion dollar budgets aren’t always necessary for the successful development of AI.
For those invested in the technology’s future, companies that achieve DeepSeek-level efficiencies could significantly influence the trajectory of AI development.
We may see a global landscape where innovative AI companies elsewhere can achieve breakthroughs, while still operating within ecosystems dominated by American and Chinese advantages in talent, data and investment.
The future of AI may not be determined solely by who leads the race. Instead, it may be determined by how different approaches shape the technology’s development.
China’s model offers important lessons for other countries seeking to build their AI capabilities while managing certain risks.
Mimi Zou has previously received funding from the British Academy. She is affiliated with the Asia Society Australia.
Every so often a film comes along that’s so good that, as we sit in the dark in the cinema, our whole being seems to become charged with electricity and we find ourselves forgetting to breathe. All of our thoughts become anchored to the screen, and the suspension of disbelief comes as close to complete as it ever could be.
Inside, written and directed by first time feature filmmaker Charles Williams (he won the Palme d’Or at Cannes for his 2018 short film, All These Creatures, so he’s not exactly a beginner), is such a film.
To say it’s one of the best Australian films I’ve seen is to qualify it with an unnecessary adjective – it’s one of the best films I’ve seen, period.
A rich tradition of prision dramas
Australian cinema has a rich tradition focusing on gangsters and criminals, from Bruce Beresford’s masterful hardboiled larrikin thriller Money Movers (1978) to more recent examples like Justin Kurzel’s hypnotic Snowtown (2011).
Within this subset there have been some stellar prison films. Everynight, Everynight (1994) still packs a punch, and the opening and closing sections of Chopper (2000), set in prison, are the most compelling parts of the movie.
Inside follows juvenile murderer Mel Blight (Vincent Miller) as he turns 18 and is moved to adult prison while awaiting (but perhaps not really wanting) parole.
Once there, he befriends charismatic career criminal Warren Murfett (Guy Pearce) who takes him under his wing and tries to coerce him into murdering fellow inmate Mark Shepard (Cosmo Jarvis), a child murderer with a contract recently taken out on him by the family of his victim.
Mel can get close enough to Shepard to do the hit – he befriends Shepard while sharing a cell with him, and starts playing keyboard in accompaniment of Shepard’s bizarre born-again sermons – but whether or not he will do so generates much of the tension of the film.
Measured intensity
Williams spent six years working on the film, and it shows.
Every element is meticulously realised, from the litany of striking, monstrous faces of the extras in the prison (who seem so authentic, one assumes Williams used real convicts) to the perverse but wholly believable actions of Murfett’s estranged son Adrian (Toby Wallace), when Murfett visits him for a day trip.
(Let’s just say it’s no sentimental reunion: there’s nothing Shawshank Redemption about Inside.)
The performances match the measured intensity of the rest of the film. Bonsai Films
The film is so good as a whole that it’s perhaps unfair to single out any element, but the score by Chiara Costanza is particularly mesmerising. It captures – in a low-key fashion – the mix of controlled fear and narcissistic bravado that constitutes life inside for these characters.
The performances match the measured intensity of the rest of the film.
Jarvis is astonishingly good as Mark Shepherd. He emanates a kind of calm, restrained power at all times, as though his body is primed for shocking violence at any moment, yet devoid of frenetic energy. He’s so good, it’s hard to believe this British actor isn’t an Australian.
Cosmo Jarvis is astonishingly good as Mark Shepherd. Bonsai Films
Fellow countryman Wallace is similarly brilliant, endowing his small role as Murfett’s son with a memorable combination of arrogance and nastiness.
Miller as Mel, in his first feature film, possesses a quality of stillness difficult for a young actor to achieve. All that nervous energy has to go somewhere, and it usually goes into bigger and louder.
Pearce is also fine, though as a seasoned screen veteran of this kind of role, one senses he could do it in his sleep.
Stunningly simple
Inside’s stunningly simple narrative sustains profound analyses of and reflections on the human character and condition.
This is one example of the classical Hollywood narrative structure being done with precision and purpose, with form and content seamlessly operating together in the unfolding of the drama.
There are no self-conscious winks at the viewer, no homages to genre, and no attempts to be clever. Watching the film is a decidedly intense experience – it contains one of the most viscerally shocking scenes I’ve seen – but at the same time this is underscored in places by an extremely subtle, wry sense of humour, like when Murfett and Mel bond over (the now defunct) Fantales lollies.
The film refuses to give the viewer an easy moral position. There are no pat explanations of characters’ motivations and actions, no attempts at psychologically or morally explaining away the ambiguities and tensions of this world to appease the stomach of the viewer.
The film refuses to give the viewer an easy moral position. Bonsai Films
This sets it apart from the vast majority of commercial films made these days. Though it represents the actions of the characters within a context (which is both personal and sociological), there’s no nifty three-minute speech at the end about how crime begets crime, or how we should treat prisoners more humanely.
Simply put, Inside is a brilliant film. Williams poetically charges a fairly conventional Aussie prison narrative with profound existential questions in a way that never feels overbearing or heavy-handed. He proves himself, here, a formidable writer-director.
I can’t wait to see the next film he makes. If the critical acclaim certain to follow Inside is indicative, it should be in fewer than six years.
Ari Mattes does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Australian podcast listeners have been treated to two appearances by the same guest in the past week: Prime Minister Anthony Albanese.
Yesterday, sports comedy team The Grade Cricketer announced a new podcast, The Circus, in which Albanese was the first guest. While Albanese isn’t necessarily known for his love of cricket, he appeared relaxed, laughing and authentic.
It came hot on the heels of his previous podcast appearance, with influencer Abbie Chatfield. Chatfield’s content is often about feminism and social justice: a very different demographic of consumers.
While few voters may listen to a full episode (and many may have never heard of the podcasts or the attached personalities), that doesn’t really matter. The real impact is in the short-form video clips that get repackaged for TikTok and Instagram.
These viral snippets offer politicians a chance to appear authentic, relatable and human: traits that can make or break a modern political campaign, especially one that will likely be decided by Australians under 40.
The politics of podcasting
Podcasting has become a vital component of modern political strategy, offering long-form, intimate conversations that contrast with the often combative nature of traditional media interviews.
As podcast interviews are usually conducted by hosts highly sympathetic to the politician’s cause, they’re rarely as hard-hitting as traditional media. It’s unsurprising politicians would seek them out for that reason alone.
In last year’s US presidential race, both candidates went on popular podcasts to boost their messaging.
In Australia, consider the case of Chatfield’s podcast. Her strong social media presence (more than 580,000 followers on both Instagram and TikTok) ensures any political commentary reaches a vast and engaged audience.
Combine this with further amplification by other influencers such as Holly MacAlpine (who has 100,000 TikTok followers), and the virality of the message becomes significant.
Earlier this month, Albanese also appeared on Betoota Talks, the podcast run by the creators of satirical news site The Betoota Advocate. It’s clear Labor is relying on podcasts with strong social media followings to reach younger, digitally engaged audiences.
It’s not just Labor using podcasts and influencers.
Dutton appeared on Diving Deep with Sam Fricker, an Olympian turned influencer. His TikTok boasts two million followers. Airing back in December, it was an early nod from the Liberal Party leader that his election campaigning had commenced.
Hiding the real power
While podcasts offer politicians a platform for extended storytelling, the real political currency comes from the carefully clipped, high-impact moments that make their way to TikTok and Instagram reels.
These videos are bite-sized, making them easier to consume and share. They are emotionally engaging – laughter, passion and frustration all translate well.
It creates a platform for individual leaders to further solidify their political authenticity through sharing the clips.
Crucially, it provides further opportunities for influencers and other social media users to amplify, engage with, and reshape the content, extending its reach and impact across digital networks.
This is important to reach the younger voters who largely make up the user base of TikTok. This election will be the first that Baby Boomer voters are outnumbered by Gen Z and Millenials, so political parties can’t afford to ignore them.
Slow off the blocks?
In 2022, Labor’s digital campaign was widely praised for its effectiveness. From meme-driven content to a strong presence on TikTok, Labor successfully tapped into online culture to engage younger voters and shape the political narrative.
Now, it’s unclear whether that strategy is still being deployed effectively. Yes, individual influencers are propping up Albanese’s image, but is the party itself doing enough to drive a coordinated digital campaign?
Consider Dutton’s decision to join TikTok. It was a move that, while seemingly contradictory to the Coalition’s prior stance on banning the platform, signals an understanding that TikTok is an unavoidable political battleground.
The Liberal Party has upped its TikTok game. Its videos often outperform Labor’s.
The videos that are posted on Albanese’s TikTok, which he first posted to in December, are often poorly received.
Labor seems to be relying on influencer support and positive branding by association rather than running its own robust, digital-first strategy.
Where to from here?
What’s clear is that political campaigning is no longer just about ads, speeches, and debates. It’s about engagement on the platforms where voters actually spend their time. If parties don’t take control of their narratives in these spaces, others will do it for them.
The crossover of podcasting and short-form video is redefining political engagement. Politicians who appear on the right platforms are tapping into a new form of authenticity that resonates online.
But unless those appearances are part of a structured, strategic approach, they remain fleeting moments rather than sustained influence.
Susan Grantham 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 these scrappy days before the prime minister announces the election date, the mud and the personal insults are flying, despite the politicians knowing voters hate this sort of thing.
On Wednesday morning TV, shadow finance minister Jane Hume, usually reasonably restrained with her language, called Employment Minister Murray Watt “king grub” of the “grubbiest people you will ever come across” – a reference to Labor’s pursuit of Peter Dutton’s past share trading. As Watt remarked, “That’s quite an accusation”.
Hume was later on the warpath in a Senate estimates hearing, where Treasury Secretary Steven Kennedy fended off an opposition attack suggesting, in essence, that Treasurer Jim Chalmers had sought to make Treasury his political pawn.
Dutton spent most of his Wednesday news conference pushing back on attacks on his integrity relating to his purchase of bank shares during the global financial crisis, and dealing with questions about his acquisition of an extensive property portfolio over decades.
What the opposition dubs Labor’s “dirt unit” apparently drove the share story. The core of it is that Dutton bought bank shares just before the Rudd government announced its guarantee to ensure the financial security of the banks.
Labor demanded to know whether Dutton had insider knowledge of the imminent guarantee through a Rudd government briefing of the opposition. Dutton, who declared the share purchase, says he had no information other than what was in the public domain.
The story about Dutton’s property portfolio – which he has unloaded, no doubt as part of preparations in pursuit of the prime ministership – ran in Nine media. The report said
Peter Dutton has made $30 million of property transactions across 26 pieces of real estate over 35 years, making him one of the country’s wealthiest-ever contenders for prime minister.
Dutton was late with declaring on the parliamentary register some of the transactions.
Nine says the story didn’t come from a Labor “dirt unit”, but it was grist for an embattled government.
Dirt digging, mud throwing, and exploitation of the politics of envy are recurring features of election campaigns. Whether they’ll have much resonance this time is doubtful.
The share story, going back the best part of a couple of decades, doesn’t sound like a smoking gun. We’ve heard about Dutton’s property buying before. We know he has plenty of money. Not as much, of course, as earlier PMs Malcolm Turnbull and Kevin Rudd.
Dutton, working on the assumption these stories will be brief wonders, kept his cool.
He hasn’t provided more details about the bank shares, relying on a general response that everything had been above board. On his property purchases, he made it clear he’s proud of his climb up the aspirational ladder since he was a “butcher’s boy” in those days when he had a job in a butcher’s shop.
For Dutton, the mud is all in a day’s work. The attack on Kennedy is in a rather different category.
In the run-up to an election, Treasury often finds itself in a awkward position, as a government seeks to use it, while an opposition objects. This time, Chalmers employed it to discredit the opposition’s policy to give a tax break to small businesses for taking their workers or clients to a meal.
Treasury doesn’t cost opposition policies. So the government asked it to cost a theoretical policy that was similar to that of the Coalition. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Treasury came up with a much bigger cost than the opposition said was produced by the Parliamentary Budget Office.
Kennedy insisted to the Senate hearing, “we do not act politically”.
“I have behaved no differently with this government, nor have I observed the department’s behaving any differently,” he said. “I understand how the circumstances might lead you to question that, but all I can do is assure you that that has not been the case.”
If Dutton became prime minister, would Kennedy’s position be at risk?
It shouldn’t be. Kennedy, appointed by the Coalition, served the previous Liberal government very well and was a key figure in its ambitious economic response to the COVID pandemic. That response kept many people in jobs and the economy out of recession.
While Kennedy was taking the flak in estimates, Chalmers had been in Washington making Australia’s case for an exemption of the Trump aluminium and steel tariffs.
Chalmers’s visit was timely and carefully managed. The treasurer said before he left Australia he wouldn’t obtain an outcome on tariffs – it was about making Australia’s case. So when there was not an outcome, it was not a disappointment. “My task here in DC wasn’t to try and conclude that discussion, it was to try and inform it,” Chalmers told a news conference after his talks.
Chalmers spent time with US Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent and National Economic Council Director Kevin Hassett. He said the discussion was “wider-ranging than just steel and aluminium”. Bessent also was a speaker at the superannuation summit held at the Australian embassy (a coup for ambassador Kevin Rudd as well as Chalmers).
In his 2023 Monthly essay, Chalmers argued for the super funds to invest more widely in Australia, notably in social housing.
At the embassy conference, Chalmers was able to look to a much wider horizon for the funds.
The current value of Australian super fund investments in the US is around $400 billion – due to reach $1 trillion over the next decade. So, Australia’s superannuation sector has the size, scale and presence to play a big role in driving new American industries and creating jobs.
Michelle Grattan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Debate over the future of Australia’s energy system has erupted again after a federal parliamentary inquiry delivered a report into the deployment of nuclear power in Australia.
The report casts doubt on the Coalition’s plan to build seven nuclear reactors on former coal sites across Australia should it win government. The reactors would be Commonwealth-owned and built.
The report’s central conclusions – rejected by the Coalition – are relatively unsurprising. It found nuclear power would be far more expensive than the projected path of shifting to mostly renewable energy. And delivering nuclear generation before the mid-2040s will be extremely challenging.
The report also reveals important weaknesses in the Coalition’s defence of its plan to deploy nuclear energy across Australia, if elected. In particular, the idea of cheap, factory-built nuclear reactors is very likely a mirage.
A divisive inquiry
In October last year, a House of Representatives select committee was formed to investigate the deployment of nuclear energy in Australia.
Chaired by Labor MP Dan Repacholi, it has so far involved 19 public hearings and 858 written submissions from nuclear energy companies and experts, government agencies, scientists, Indigenous groups and others. Evidence I gave to a hearing was quoted in the interim report.
The committee’s final report is due by April 30 this year. It tabled an interim report late on Tuesday, focused on the timeframes and costs involved. These issues dominated evidence presented to the inquiry.
The findings of the interim report were endorsed by the committee’s Labor and independent members, but rejected by Coalition members.
What did the report find on cost?
The report said evidence presented so far showed the deployment of nuclear power generation in Australia “is currently not a viable investment of taxpayer money”.
Nuclear energy was shown to be more expensive than the alternatives. These include a power grid consistent with current projections: one dominated by renewable energy and backed up by a combination of battery storage and a limited number of gas peaking plants.
The Coalition has identified seven coal plant sites where it would build nuclear reactors. Some 11 gigawatts of coal capacity is produced on those sites. The committee heard replacing this capacity with nuclear power would meet around 15% of consumer needs in the National Electricity Market, and cost at least A$116 billion.
In contrast, the Australian Energy Market Operator estimates the cost of meeting 100% of the National Electricity Market’s needs – that is, building all required transmission, generation, storage and firming capacity out to 2050 – is about $383 billion.
What about the timing of nuclear?
On the matter of when nuclear energy in Australia would be up and running, the committee found “significant challenges” in achieving this before the mid-2040s.
The mid-2040s is well beyond the lifetime of Australia’s existing coal-fired power stations. This raises questions about how the Coalition would ensure reliable electricity supplies after coal plants close. It also raises questions over how Australia would meet its global emissions-reduction obligations.
Recent experience in other developed countries suggests the committee’s timeframe estimates are highly conservative.
Take, for example, a 1.6GW reactor at Flamanville, France. The project, originally scheduled to be completed in 2012, was not connected to the grid until 2024. Costs blew out from an original estimate of A$5.5 billion to $22 billion.
The builder, Électricité de France (EDF), was pushed to the edge of bankruptcy. The French government was forced to nationalise the company, reversing an earlier decision to privatise it.
EDF is also building two reactors in the United Kingdom – a project known as Hinkley C. It has also suffered huge cost blowouts.
The committee report included dissenting comments by Coalition members.
As the Coalition rightly points out, global enthusiasm for nuclear power remains steady. The UK, France and the US all signed a declaration in 2023 at the global climate change conference, COP28, pledging to triple nuclear power by 2050.
But even there, progress has been glacial. The UK’s Sizewell C project has been in the planning stage since at least 2012. The French projects were announced by President Emmanuel Macron in 2022. None of these projects have yet reached a final investment decision. Delays in Australia would certainly be much longer.
The Coalition also draws a long bow in claiming Australia’s existing research reactor at Lucas Heights, in New South Wales, means we are “already a nuclear nation”.
At least 50 countries, including most developed countries, have research reactors. But very few are contemplating starting a nuclear industry from scratch.
At least one issue seems to have been resolved by the committee’s inquiry. Evidence it received almost unanimously dismissed the idea small modular reactors (SMRs) will arrive in time to be relevant to Australia’s energy transition – if they are ever developed.
The Coalition’s dissenting comments did not attempt to rebut this evidence.
Looking ahead
Undoubtedly, existing nuclear power plants will play a continued role in the global energy transition.
But starting a nuclear power industry from scratch in Australia is a nonsensical idea for many reasons – not least because it is too expensive and will take too long.
In the context of the coming federal election, the nuclear policy is arguably a red herring – one designed to distract voters from a Coalition policy program that slows the transition to renewables and drags out the life of dirty and unreliable coal-fired power.
John Quiggin is a former member of the Climate Change Authority. His submission to the nuclear electricity generation inquiry was cited in the interim report
It was 2009. John Farnham walked on stage at the disaster relief concert for the most devastating bushfires in Australian history. He belted out You’re The Voice to 36,000 people at the Sydney Cricket Ground. Then, as he lowered his microphone, 36,000 voices belted it right back.
Farnham knew the real star that day was not himself, but the thousands of everyday Australians singing in solidarity with their hurting nation.
Singing together is electrifying, but can Australians tap into this magic without the tragedy?
We’re all the voice.
The science behind the magic
Group singing has a proven ability to produce positive social bonding and help us tune in to others’ feelings.
After taking part in a year-long community singing program, Aboriginal and Torres Straight Islander adults reported reduced depression, increased resilience and a greater sense of social connection.
Physiologically, research shows group singing can increase the hormone oxytocin which helps us bond with people and feel good. It can decrease cortisol levels to positively modulate our immune system. Making music together may also release endorphins that help our tolerance of pain.
Rewinding on Australian singing
Australia’s identity as a singing nation has never quite matched countries like Wales, “the land of song”. Centuries-old singing traditions are well-suited to huddling indoors in snowy northern hemisphere villages.
Indeed, the tradition of singing Christmas carols was devised as a cure for the European winter blues. Our warmer Australian climate, in contrast, coaxes us outdoors for other activities in wide open spaces.
Australia’s choral tradition grew initially through church music; printed on tiny 12x7cm pages, books from the early 1800s provide a glimpse at the hymns church choirs and congregations once sang.
Music researcher Dianne Gome reports these books were also used for official state occasions and in the home. They were so popular, Australians began to create their own versions.
Singing was part of 19th century Australian life. At home, pianos were treasured for family singalongs and a sign of wealth and culture. Choirs blossomed, such as the The Brisbane Musical Union (now The Queensland Choir) which formed in 1872 with 112 members. Singing was valued, and local journals critiqued technique. Even The Wireless Weekly reported a radio poll “to decide the worst singer” in 1942.
Work songs – morale boosters as workers labour through repetitive tasks – also showed our early singing culture. One Queensland man recently described life as a 14-year-old in a 1930s tram track foundry:
Every night I came home exhausted. It was hard work, but we used to sing […] How many people sing at their work today?
Alongside its presence in churches, work places and social gatherings, singing became a pillar of Australian education.
A book on education history in Victoria reports singing was introduced in the 1850s for “harmonising and refining the mind” and as a “most favourable influence […] on the moral associations of the goldfields”.
There also exists a social pressure on Australian boys to play sport rather than sing in choirs.
Today’s Aussie group singing style
A fair dinkum Aussie singing style is well established in sporting circles.
The 1978 World Cricket Series jingle C’mon Aussie C’mon was so simple and catchy its tune still rings through stadiums today. Likewise, Mike Brady’s Up There Cazaly – inspired by the 1910s footballer whose name was used in World War II battle cries – has been a favourite crowd singalong at AFL Grand Finals for decades.
Footy club theme songs aside, Brisbane Lions fans will be particularly familiar with a modern opportunity for sports singing: goal songs. After every goal at a Lions’ home game, a snippet from a player-chosen track blares across the stands.
Not all of these song selections make successful singalongs, but Charlie Cameron’s choice of Take Me Home Country Roads is a clear favourite. Tellingly, the crowd keeps singing after the music stops.
At the other end of the spectrum of group size and vocal expertise is the small Australian-bred a capella group The Idea of North. Their expert musical arrangements and blended sound perfectly encapsulates collaborative singing with unity, harmony and joy.
For a quirky Australian choral option, a group of men from Mullumbimby formed the “fake” Russian choir, Dustyesky (a wordplay on the famous Russian writer Dostoevsky). They don’t speak the language, yet their energy and passion for singing made them a hit in Russia and brought about an invitation to sing in Moscow.
With millions of internet views, another highly successful Australian response to group singing came from Astrid Jorgensen, creator of Pub Choir. With laughter and a drink, members of the public meet at a licensed venue to learn a song in three-part harmony.
Jorgensen’s tailored musical arrangements of popular songs suit untrained singers, don’t require music reading skills and make singing in harmony with complete strangers easy and fun. Jorgensen found the key to motivating Aussies to sing together is crowds, humour and a social beer.
Wendy Hargreaves 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.
We see the political parties’ frantic election campaigns, but behind the scenes the Australian Electoral Commisison is working just as hard.
An often overlooked part of Australia’s democracy, the AEC is vital in ensuring our elections are both efficient and fair, a task full of challenges.
We’re joined today by Tom Rogers, recently retired as Electoral Commissioner. As commissioner, Rogers oversaw three federal elections and the Voice referendum. He is now a member of the advisory board of the International Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance and provides his expertise on elections globally.
Rogers describes running a modern Australian election as
the largest peacetime logistic exercise in the life of Australia […] it’s so complex administratively to run these events.
It’s a bit like setting up a fortune 500 company in four weeks, running it, then dismantling it a couple of weeks after the event. It is just phenomenally complex. And the amazing thing is that because we’ve got good systems in place, it works pretty well.
The agency goes from, I’ll use very rough figures here, about a thousand people all over Australia during the non-electoral period up to about 105,000 people during that very short period.
There are a lot of calls for truth in advertising laws and some calls for it to be managed by the AEC. Rogers insists the AEC should not be involved,
I was a firm believer that that would be very inappropriate for the AEC. It’s one of those rare things where we were very, very proactive in talking to people about that. And one of the reasons is because I think it would ruin the AEC’s reputation for neutrality. It’s as simple as that.
It will impact on the AEC’s level of trust with the community.[…] given trust is so important, that people trust electoral outcomes, I think it’s incredibly dangerous.
While not wanting to be involved with truth in advertising, Rogers does see the importance in the AEC countering misinformation on Australia’s electoral process,
We’ve established a ‘defending democracy unit’. We ran a national campaign called Stop and Consider to get people to think about the source of information.
But I think the bit that we can do and that’s still missing is we really need a national digital literacy campaign for our citizens. When you correct disinformation about electoral matters, there’s a whole body of research that shows that it’s kind of effective. What is more effective rather than debunking is ‘prebunking’ and what is more effective again, is giving citizens the skills they need to make up their own mind about the accuracy of information.
The Stop and Consider campaign, I might be wrong, but is still the only national campaign focussed on giving citizens skills. We need to run something like that all the time. I think there’s a real need for this in the modern era and that’s what we should be doing.
Rogers also highlights the importance of civics education
It’s critical. The AEC is already doing good work in this space. Up until I left at the end of last year, generally speaking the AEC was getting about 100,000 kids a year through the Electoral Education Centre in Canberra, which is excellent. They are in the process of digitising much of the materials so that that could be spread to schools that are unable to visit Canberra.
I do think we need to do more.
Michelle Grattan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
If you are a member of a super fund, some of your long-term savings are probably invested in private markets.
Public markets are familiar to most of us – the stock market and government and corporate bond markets. Private markets include unlisted assets such as companies owned by private equity firms, infrastructure investments and private credit markets.
Public markets tend to be transparent, tightly regulated and liquid. Companies listed on the stock exchange publish their financial accounts, hold annual general meetings and their shares can be readily traded.
In contrast, private markets are lightly regulated. Private capital investments are more opaque, less liquid and, hence, more risky. But they can deliver much higher returns (or losses).
Often, obtaining capital from private sources makes sense. For example, entrepreneurs whose startup firms are short of revenue, profit and tangible assets are unlikely to be able to raise capital in public markets, or from banks. Instead, they turn to private equity firms for funding.
What are the concerns?
In its report, ASIC raises several concerns:
the shrinking of Australia’s public equity markets might hurt the economy
the rise of private markets may create new or amplified risks
the lack of transparency of private markets poses a challenge for investors and regulators.
Public markets play an important role connecting investors with companies seeking capital. The shrinking of public markets, therefore, has important economic implications. Will private markets be able to pick up the slack?
Notwithstanding the growth in private capital markets, they are still small compared to their public counterparts. The total capitalisation of the Australian Stock Exchange (ASX) is $3 trillion. Total private capital funds under management are only $150 billion.
The lack of disclosures in private capital markets might also create more and different risks for financial markets and the economy; risks that regulators may not understand, nor know how to anticipate or effectively mitigate.
The role of Australian super funds
ASIC is concerned about the implications for the superannuation industry of the growth of private capital markets and decline in public markets.
Australia’s superannuation assets now total $4.1 trillion, greater than the value of Australia’s GDP and more than the total value of all companies listed on the ASX. Anything that alters the playing field for Australian super has the potential to create outsized risk (or opportunity) for the Australian economy.
The ASIC report highlights the growing involvement of Australia’s superannuation funds in private markets. Australia’s two largest super funds, Australian Super and Australian Retirement Trust, each have about 20% of their total funds invested in private markets.
The fact is that Australia’s superannuation sector has outgrown Australian public markets. They cannot trade shares on the ASX without moving share prices significantly to their detriment. On the other hand, having super funds, which are highly regulated to protect member savings, investing in unregulated private capital markets is jarring, if not potentially risky.
Having said this, the size of Australia’s super funds means they can set the terms and price at which they invest. This power is most valuable in private deals; less so in public markets where a company’s stock price and its financial accounts are public knowledge.
Increasingly, super funds directly invest in infrastructure projects such as ports and airports rather than buy shares in listed infrastructure firms.
What’s behind the shift in markets?
The ASIC report points the finger at the usual culprits for the shift from public to private capital markets, including the regulatory burden on public companies and the rise of technology companies that prefer to tap private capital.
However, another problem is bedevilling policymakers everywhere: too much capital is chasing too few profitable investment opportunities. Companies have lots of cash on their books and nothing to spend it on.
Increasingly, such companies have resorted to share buybacks (reducing the number of their shares on issue) to reward investors in a tax-effective way. A lot of the shrinkage in public equity is due to share buybacks that in 2022 alone totalled US$1.3 trillion.
Why does all this matter?
The ASIC report is notable for what it does not say; nothing, for example, on its own chequered history of investigative and enforcement action.
The growing importance of opaque private markets matters more if regulators are asleep at the wheel. ASIC’s tendency for weak oversight and sclerotic enforcement can hardly have raised investor confidence in Australia’s public capital markets.
Its oversight of initial public offerings (IPOs) has also been questionable over a long period. How can ASIC be expected to adequately manage complex private capital market risks given its woeful performance managing simpler public market risks?
The apparent decline of public markets has been spooking even sophisticated private financial market players – including, most notably, Jamie Dimon, CEO of JP Morgan. If Dimon is concerned, then ASIC – and all of us – should probably also be concerned.
Mark Melatos 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.
Netflix’s Apple Cider Vinegar has renewed interest in Belle Gibson’s infamous wellness scam, reminding us how vulnerable we can be to deception. While Gibson’s scheme eventually collapsed, her story highlights how fraudsters can exploit our psychological and cultural biases to lure us into wellness traps.
Part of our culture includes the shared mythologies and symbols that help us make sense of the world. These stories and symbols seem to make our lives more “efficient” by surpassing tedious fact-checking. Over time, these cultural codes become embedded into our psychologies, operating as background biases that shape our decision-making.
By becoming aware of these biases, we can develop a more critical approach to evaluating information presented to us. In doing so, we can protect ourselves from the Belle Gibsons of the world.
A desire for inner bodily purity
One pervasive wellness mythology suggests health can be found in the “pure” state of the body, and that illness occurs when outside contaminants pollute the body.
As anthropologist Mary Douglas notes, we symbolically equate the “inner” with purity and the “outer” with pollution. This leads to efforts to protect ourselves from outside threats. We are disgusted by the idea of the harmful “outside” getting inside and violating the body’s inner sanctum.
Gibson’s cookbook and app promoted a diet that claimed inner health problems (such as cancer) are the result of outside contamination, in this case by “bad” foods.
This symbolism also appears in various diets that advocate for removing certain types of food, such as sugar or gluten, to achieve a state of inner sanctity and, therefore, health.
Similarly, various “clean eating” diets will specifically link certain foods to cleanliness and others to dirtiness. In their most extreme form, these diets constitute orthorexia, a clinical condition defined by an “obsession” with healthy eating.
The allure of ‘ancient wisdom’
Each day we face an overwhelming array of choices, from the products we use to how we construct our identities. As people living in modern, affluent societies we are, as philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre put it, “condemned to be free”.
In 1953, psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan observed that we possess a nostalgia for an idealised golden age (regardless of whether it ever truly existed). We yearn for a mythical era of simplicity, safety and happiness. This psychological bias for the past manifests as a deep reverence for “ancient wisdom”, seemingly passed down through generations and untainted by modern influence.
This preference can be seen in our instinctive trust in grandparents’ remedies and traditional healing practices, even when scientific evidence doesn’t always support them. Gibson and others co-opt this nostalgia by selling us products that connect us to the past.
Suspicion of industrial-scale production
Our minds are often suspicious of large-scale and complex manufacturing processes, and will often devalue industrially produced products.
This scepticism of scale stems from negative associations with factory work, questionable standards and a history of multinational corporations prioritising profit over people. As a public, we are growing understandably weary of the multinational companies whose influence we can’t seem to escape. Politicians often further this narrative by claiming that globalisation – replacing local cottage industries with industrialised mega-companies – screws the little guys like you and me.
Gibson capitalised on a growing suspicion of the industrial-scale pharmaceutical industry to promote her bespoke “homegrown” wellness products. Locally-made goods often have increased value simply because they are made on a smaller scale, regardless of their quality or materials.
Historically, various groups including the Luddites and the hippie movement have rejected the industrial push. More recently, we saw these dynamics play out in COVID-19 vaccine denial, which partially stems from suspicions of the pharmaceutical companies.
A preference for natural over artificial
Culturally, the concept of the “natural” holds powerful meaning, positioning things found in nature as inherently superior to those manufactured by humans (deemed “artificial”).
This natural/artificial dichotomy establishes a symbolic framework in which natural remedies, raw foods and authenticity represent the “proper” order of things – how life should be. The “appeal to nature” bias persists because it resonates with our collective intuition that modern life has somehow disconnected us from important truths or healthier ways of living.
Research has demonstrated we tend to have a positive association with the concept of the “natural”, which we understand as objects not altered by human intervention. This preference isn’t merely aesthetic. It also reflects our belief in a moral order.
Gibson famously claimed alternative therapies – most notably apple cider vinegar – helped treat her alleged cancer. Similar patterns appear throughout the wellness industry, where influencers and companies market products by emphasising their natural origins and minimal processing.
These claims leverage our psychological bias toward natural remedies, even when the scientific evidence for their efficacy is lacking.
Jesse Ruse does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Omid Aliasghar, Senior Lecturer, Management and International Business, University of Auckland, Waipapa Taumata Rau
When it comes to turning research into real-world success, New Zealand has a problem.
Despite the country’s NZ$3.7 billion research and development spending in 2023 – a 17% jump from the previous year — too many New Zealand businesses fail to commercialise innovation.
Working with universities can connect businesses to researchers, government agencies, private industry and global networks. Collaboration can also offer businesses credibility. It signals to investors, partners and customers that they are serious about innovation.
Our study – based on a digital survey of 541 firms across a wide range of industries and regions in New Zealand – looked at whether collaborating with universities could help businesses to bring ideas to market, sell intellectual property and develop technology.
We also considered whether there was a difference in working with international universities versus collaborating with local institutions. While identifying details of the individual businesses were kept confidential, here is what we learned.
The case for foreign university partnerships
Our research found partnering with foreign universities allowed New Zealand businesses to tap into global expertise and advanced research. It also provided access to diverse knowledge networks, where businesses could learn from various real-world applications of scientific knowledge.
For example, a New Zealand business specialising in artificial intelligence (AI) can gain game-changing insights by collaborating with top universities in the United States.
The partnerships can provide access to leading AI models, advanced algorithms, and global industry connections. These partnerships can enable the business to stay ahead in an increasingly competitive market.
Additionally, many universities had well-established technology transfer offices. These had experience in helping businesses commercialise research.
In short, foreign university collaborations opened doors to the world’s best knowledge and technology – critical for firms operating in fast-moving industries.
New Zealand technology businesses have benefited from partnering with universities based in the United States on artificial intelligence projects. Gorodenkoff/Shutterstock
The strength of local university collaborations
We also found local university collaborations had their own advantages, including
an understanding of New Zealand’s specific challenges, from climate change impact on agriculture to AI adoption in small businesses.
This contextual knowledge made their expertise highly relevant for firms aiming to commercialise innovation within New Zealand’s unique market conditions.
Working with local universities also allowed businesses to build strong, personal relationships with researchers, fostering faster and more effective knowledge exchange.
Unlike foreign partnerships, where interactions may be limited to emails and virtual meetings, local collaborations allowed for regular in-person brainstorming, experimentation and problem solving.
Finally, collaborating with New Zealand’s universities gave businesses access to top local talent, helping them recruit skilled graduates familiar with the domestic market and its needs.
A balanced approach
Investing in research and development alone won’t drive innovation for businesses. Without strategic collaboration, firms risk wasting resources on ideas that never reach the market.
Businesses should take a balanced approach. Foreign university collaborations can offer groundbreaking advances, cutting-edge knowledge and global networks. At the same time, local university collaborations offer accessible knowledge, local expertise and stronger working relationships.
By embracing these partnerships, New Zealand businesses can turn research into commercial success, drive national economic growth, and position themselves as global innovation leaders. The question is no longer if firms should collaborate with universities – it’s how quickly they can start.
This research was completed with Annique Un (Northeastern University), Kazuhiro Asakawa (Keio University), Jarrod Haar (Massey University) and Sihong Wu (University of Auckland).
Omid Aliasghar receives funding support for this research provided by Building New Zealand’s Innovation Capacity Spearhead within the Science for Technological Innovation National Science Challenge.
24/7 companionship. Spend time with him whenever you want.
This is the promise made by Love and Deepspace, a mobile romance game by the Chinese company Papergames.
Some think video games are all guns and cars, but romance games or “dating simulators” are immensely popular, especially among young women.
Love and Deepspace reached 50 million users across more than 170 countries and regions in January. Despite their popularity, dating sims, as they are known for short, usually fly under the radar in discussions about games.
Meanwhile, a recent major update for Love and Deepspace has furrowed some brows by introducing an unusual new feature: a period tracker.
Need help keeping track of tasks?
Dating sims offer a fantasy of romantic, intimate companionship. Otome games (from the word “maiden” in Japanese) are a sub-genre of dating sims that are catered to women. They offer a suite of boyfriends to choose from – each attentive, caring and, of course, incredibly handsome.
Ideal in every way except being fictional.
Love and Deepspace is a science-fiction otome game that stands out with its unusual blend of combat, magic, dating and gacha (meaning random rewards) microtransactions – which are controversial for their parallels to gambling.
Its latest update introduced a Remind Me feature, where players can ask their virtual boyfriends to remind them of daily tasks and special events, as well as their upcoming period. Players input information about their menstrual cycle and the game then generates its own predictive calendar and notifications.
The player’s in-game boyfriend will offer to pick up some sanitary products or even reach towards the screen and provide an imaginary abdomen massage.
Women are conscious of the conservative gender roles within otome games, but at the same time find pleasure in their focus on the female gaze and ability to explore their sexual desire privately.
In China, where otome games are especially popular, censorship of explicit content for women has intensified. These games are able to convey sexually suggestive themes that are subtle enough to elude censorship.
Otome games are not new
Otome games have been around for three decades.
Angelique, a game made by an all-women team in 1994, is considered to be the first. It helped set the stage for other boyfriend fantasy media for women as seen in the rising popularity of “boyfriend ASMR” on audio and video platforms today. These are designed to directly address the listener in both sensual and everyday scenarios.
Video games have changed a lot since then, especially as mobile devices have evolved to be more intimate, accompanying us everywhere.
Love and Deepspace is introducing more features including “Quality Time”, which rewards players for working or studying with the game open. The rewards come in the form of an animated man sighing and whispering into the player’s headphones.
‘Feel his deepening breath, rising heartbeat, and the trickle of sweat. He’s working out together with you!’ Love and Deepspace/X
Periods and privacy
Love and Deepspace’s period reminders mirror existing period tracker apps, though they do not incorporate the usual fertility date predictions or ability to log symptoms and sexual activity. That’s probably a good thing.
Period tracker apps have faced scrutiny for mishandling users’ data. Popular period tracker app Flo has faced a lawsuit in the British Columbia Supreme Court in Canada for sharing personal data to third-party tech firms, including Facebook and Google, which use the data for targeted advertising.
Love and Deepspace’s privacy policy states any menstruation data is only used for the prediction and reminder features, and that it will not be shared with any third parties without the player’s consent.
US-owned companies have been just as liable to sell sensitive information to third parties, such as location data to abortion clinics and gay clubs.
Australia’s Privacy Act does not just apply to Australian companies. Papergames could be sanctioned if it breaches its privacy policy.
That said, it is unlikely many users will be familiar with the policy or read future changes made to it. It is best to always practise caution when entering any kind of personal information in platforms, apps or video games.
A potential shift
Period tracking is not a core component in the game. But this new feature signals a potential shift towards more mobile games integrating popular app functions, such as health data.
Instead of a casual time-filler, mobile games like Love and Deepspace are competing for players’ attention over other apps – which is concerning given its controversial gacha random rewards.
It’s also possible the game’s designers are picking up on a widespread desire for men to care more about their partner’s periods.
Stephanie Harkin 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.
Every year, the world consumes around 50 billion tonnes of sand, gravel and crushed stone. The astonishing scale of this demand is hard to comprehend – 12.5 million Olympic sized swimming pools per year – making it the most-used solid material by humans.
Most of us don’t see the sand and gravel all around us. It’s hidden in concrete footpaths and buildings, the glass in our windows and in the microchips that drive our technology.
Demand is set to increase further – even as the extraction of sand and gravel from rivers, lakes, beaches and oceans is triggering an environmental crisis.
Sand does renew naturally, but in many regions, natural sand supplies are being depleted far faster than they can be replenished. Desert sand often has grains too round for use in construction and deserts are usually far from cities, while sand alternatives made by crushing rock are energy- and emissions-intensive.
But there’s a major opportunity here, as we outline in our new research. Every year, the mining industry crushes and discards billions of tonnes of the same minerals as waste during the process of mining metals. By volume, mining waste is the single largest source of waste we make.
There’s nothing magical about sand. It’s made up of particles of weathered rock. Gravel is larger particles. Our research has found companies mining metals can get more out of their ores, by processing the ore to produce sand as well.
This would solve two problems at once: how to avoid mining waste and how to tackle the sand crisis. We dub this “nose-to-tail” mining, following the trend in gastronomy to use every part of an animal.
Concrete is everywhere – but it requires a great deal of sand and gravel. MVolodymyr/Shutterstock
The failings of tailings
The metal sulphides, oxides and carbonates which can be turned into iron, copper and other metals are only a small fraction of the huge volumes of ore which have to be processed. Every year, the world produces about 13 billion tonnes of tailings – the ground-up rock left over after valuable metals are extracted – and another 72 billion tonnes of waste rock, which has been blasted but not ground up.
For decades, scientists have dreamed of using tailings as a substitute for natural sand. Tailings are often rich in silicates, the principal component of sand.
But to date, the reality has been disappointing. More than 18,000 research papers have been published on the topic in the last 25 years. But only a handful of mines have found ways to repurpose and sell tailings.
Why? First, tailings rarely meet the strict specifications required for construction materials, such as the size of the particles, the mineral composition and the durability.
Second, they come with a stigma. Tailings often contain hazardous substances liberated during mining. This makes governments and consumers understandably cautious about using mining waste in homes and our built environment.
Neither of these problems is insurmountable. In our research, we propose a new solution: manufacture sand directly from ore.
Converting rock into metal is a complex, multi-step process which differs by type of metal and by type of ore. After crushing, the minerals in the ore are typically separated using flotation, where the metal-containing sulphide minerals attach to tiny bubbles that float up through the slurry of rock and water.
At this stage, leftover ore is normally separated out to be disposed of as waste. But if we continue to process the ore, such as by spinning it in a cyclone, impurities can be removed and the right particle size and shape can be achieved to meet the specifications for sand.
We have dubbed this “ore-sand”, to distinguish it from tailings. It’s not made from waste tailings – it’s a deliberate product of the ore.
Turning ore into metal requires intensive crushing and grinding. These methods could also make sand. Aussie Family Living/Shutterstock
More from ore
This isn’t just theory. At the iron ore mine Brucutu in Brazil, the mining company Vale is already producing one million tonnes of ore-sand annually. The sand is used in road construction, brickmaking and concrete.
The move came from tragedy. In 2015 and 2019, the dams constructed to store tailings at two of Vale’s iron ore mines collapsed, triggering deadly mudflows. Hundreds of people died – many of them company employees – and the environmental consequences are ongoing.
In response, the company funded researchers (such as our group) to find ways to reduce reliance on tailings dams in favour of better alternatives.
Following our work with Vale we investigated the possibility of making ore-sand from other types of mineral ores, such as copper and gold. We have run successful trials at Newmont’s Cadia copper-gold mine in Australia. Here, using innovative methods we have produced a coarser ore-sand which doesn’t require as much blending with other sand.
Ore-sand processing makes the most sense for mines located close to cities. This is for two reasons: to avoid the risk of tailings dams to people living nearby, and to reduce the transport costs of moving sand long distances.
Our earlier research showed almost half the world’s sand consumption happens within 100 kilometres of a mine which could produce ore-sand as well as metals. Since metal mining already requires intensive crushing and grinding, we found ore-sand can be produced with lower energy consumption and carbon emissions than the extraction of conventional sands.
The challenge of scale
For any new idea or industry, the hardest part is to go from early trials to widespread adoption. It won’t be easy to make ore-sand a reality.
Inertia is one reason. Mining companies have well-established processes. It takes time and work to introduce new methods.
Industry buy-in and collaboration, supportive government policies and market acceptance will be needed. Major sand buyers such as the construction industry need to be able to test and trust the product.
The upside is real, though. Ore-sand offers us a rare chance to tackle two hard environmental problems at once, by slashing the staggering volume of mining waste and reducing the need for potentially dangerous tailings dams, and offering a better alternative to destructive sand extraction.
Daniel Franks would like to acknowledge funding and collaboration support from the Queensland Government, Australian Economic Accelerator, Resources Technology and Critical Minerals Trailblazer, Newcrest Mining, Newmont, Vale, The University of Geneva, The University of Exeter, The Universidade Federal de Minas Gerais, and The University of Queensland. Daniel Franks is the recipient of an Australian Research Council Future Fellowship (FT240100383) funded by the Australian Government.
Three days after he was released from prison in December, a Tibetan village leader named Gonpo Namgyal died. As his body was being prepared for traditional Tibetan funeral rites, marks were found indicating he had been brutally tortured in jail.
Gonpo Namgyal is the victim of a slow-moving conflict that has dragged on for nearly 75 years, since China invaded Tibet in the mid-20th century. Language has been central to that conflict.
Tibetans have worked to protect the Tibetan language and resisted efforts to enforce Mandarin Chinese. Yet, Tibetan children are losing their language through enrolment in state boarding schools where they are being educated nearly exclusively in Mandarin Chinese. Tibetan is typically only taught a few times a week – not enough to sustain the language.
My research, published in a new book in 2024, provides unique insights into the struggle of other minority languages in Tibet that receive far less attention.
My research shows that language politics in Tibet are surprisingly complex and driven by subtle violence, perpetuated not only by Chinese authorities but also other Tibetans. I’ve also found that outsiders’ efforts to help are failing the minority languages at the highest risk of extinction.
Tibetan culture under attack
I lived in Ziling, the largest city on the Tibetan Plateau, from 2005 to 2013, teaching in a university, studying Tibetan and supporting local non-government organisations.
Most of my research since then has focused on language politics in the Rebgong valley on the northeast Tibetan Plateau. From 2014 to 2018, I interviewed dozens of people, spoke informally with many others, and conducted hundreds of household surveys about language use.
I also collected and analysed Tibetan language texts, including government policies, online essays, social media posts and even pop song lyrics.
When I was in Ziling, Tibetans launched a massive protest movement against Chinese rule just before the Beijing Olympics in 2008. These protests led to harsh government crackdowns, including mass arrests, increased surveillance, and restrictions on freedom of movement and expressions of Tibetan identity. This was largely focused on language and religion.
Years of unrest ensued, marked by more demonstrations and individual acts of sacrifice. Since 2009, more than 150 Tibetans have set themselves on fire to protest Chinese rule.
Not just Tibetan under threat
Tibet is a linguistically diverse place. In addition to Tibetan, about 60 other languages are spoken in the region. About 4% of Tibetans (around 250,000 people) speak a minority language.
Government policy forces all Tibetans to learn and use Mandarin Chinese. Those who speak only Tibetan have a harder time finding work and are faced with discrimination and even violence from the dominant Han ethnic group.
Meanwhile, support for Tibetan language education has slowly been whittled away: the government even recently banned students from having private Tibetan lessons or tutors on their school holidays.
Linguistic minorities in Tibet all need to learn and use Mandarin. But many also need to learn Tibetan to communicate with other Tibetans: classmates, teachers, doctors, bureaucrats or bosses.
In Rebgong, where I did my research, the locals speak a language they call Manegacha. Increasingly, this language is being replaced by Tibetan: about a third of all families that speak Manegacha are now teaching Tibetan to their children (who also must learn Mandarin).
The government refuses to provide any opportunities to use and learn minority languages like Manegacha. It also tolerates constant discrimination and violence against Manegacha speakers by other Tibetans.
How do Manegacha communities resist and navigate language oppression?
Why does this matter?
Tibetan resistance to Chinese rule dates back to the People’s Liberation Army invasion in the early 1950s.
When the Dalai Lama fled to India in 1959, that resistance movement went global. Governments around the world have continued to support Tibetan self-determination and combat Chinese misinformation about Tibet, such as the US Congress passage of the Resolve Tibet Act in 2024.
Outside efforts to support the Tibetan struggle, however, are failing some of the most vulnerable people: those who speak minority languages.
Manegacha speakers want to maintain their language. They resist the pressure to assimilate whenever they speak Manegacha to each other, post memes online in Manegacha or push back against the discrimination they face from other Tibetans.
However, if Tibetans stop speaking Manegacha and other minority languages, this will contribute to the Chinese government’s efforts to erase Tibetan identity and culture.
Even if the Tibetan language somehow survives in China, the loss of even one of Tibet’s minority languages would be a victory for the Communist Party in the conflict it started 75 years ago.
Gerald Roche has received funding for this research from the Australian Research Council. He is also affiliated with the Linguistic Justice Foundation.
When parental separation ends up in the family courts, serious risks such as family violence, child abuse, drug, alcohol or substance misuse, and mental health issues are often involved.
But many children feel shut out of family court processes that decide what is in their “best interests”.
My new paper, co-authored with Southern Cross University researchers Eliza Hew, Meaghan Vosz and Helen Walsh and published in the journal Child and Family Social Work, looked at how children felt about their experiences in the family courts.
We interviewed 41 children and young people aged ten to 19 from Queensland, New South Wales, the Australian Capital Territory and Victoria. Four key themes emerged.
1. Children feel silenced
Some children we spoke with felt they were heard by family law professionals. Many, however, described feeling silenced. Penny (all names in this article changed to protect identies), aged 14, said:
[It was like] someone was standing there and putting something over my mouth so I couldn’t speak […] I should have been allowed in the courtroom and been allowed to say what I wanted.
Chelsea, 15, felt:
squashed and I just had to do what I was told and be quiet and suck it up, even if it wasn’t what I wanted.
Family court orders required Paige, 17, and her sister to spend time with their father, contrary to their expressed wishes. Paige blamed herself, saying:
That was always one of my biggest regrets because I’m like, maybe if I had said something differently, or emphasised it more, they would have understood what I was trying to say and actually listened […] it wouldn’t have made such traumatic memories, which happened afterwards, when we were forced to see him.
The children in our study wanted to be heard directly. As Troy, 14, put it:
Talk to us, not about us.
Children also told us that they wanted their words conveyed accurately by family law professionals to the court. Lisa, 10, said:
It’s like whispering to another person, and then you keep whispering, whispering, and then eventually, something comes out differently. People get it mixed up.
Other children felt speaking up was futile. Ari, 11, said:
I had some ideas that I wanted, that I thought would be fair, but it never really changed […] So I just stopped talking.
Most children we interviewed felt “in the dark” about family court processes. Olive, 11, said she had “no clue what was going on”, while Leo, 13, said:
I didn’t know anything. I was playing the guessing game.
Some children got information through their own proactive, even covert efforts. Ava, 13, said:
I was snooping through Mum’s room and I found some papers.
Ava then Googled the family court judge who decided her parents’ case, because “she, like, ruined my life. Need to know who.”
Other children got more information than they wanted.
Eva, 12, said:
Mum shared with me lots of the law court stuff and I really wish she didn’t, because I should just be a kid. That was the sort of thing that made me feel […] sort of responsible and it sort of made me look at my mum in a bad way.
3. Some children will vote with their feet
Some children said they’d refused to comply with family court parenting orders. As Ava, 13, put it:
If they can’t listen to me, I’m not going to listen to them.
Chelsea, 15, explained:
I wasn’t listened to at all […] in the end, I finally put my foot down, and I was like, “I’m not going to Dad’s”.
Aaron, 16, and his siblings chose to live with their father, contrary to family court orders. He explained:
When they said that we had to live with Mum, we just lived with Dad anyway […] They’re meant to help and did the complete opposite.
4. Children feel less able to trust others
Children stressed the importance of family law professionals creating space to build trust. But several children felt they were betrayed by law professionals who’d shared what the children had said with their parents.
Troy, 14, said:
If I knew what I said was going to get back to Dad, I wouldn’t have said it.
Jessica, 16, wanted:
More support on knowing that what I said directly wouldn’t get back to my dad in case I was sent back there, because stuff I said could have really, really, really hurt me if I was sent back.
Gabrielle, 18, said:
Adults are meant to be the people that you can trust, particularly when they say that they’re there for your best interest. I lost a lot of trust. I couldn’t trust anyone again.
Protecting children
Our study didn’t ask children about details of their family court orders, so it’s possible that, as Aaron, 16, observed, “the people that probably want to do this [research] are probably the people that got messed around”.
But our findings are important because they expose concerning attitudes about children and their rights in the family courts, and the capacity and skills of professionals to support children to participate meaningfully and safely.
We’re now working with the children and young people we interviewed to co-create a children’s participation toolkit, which will give children information about their right to participate in family law processes.
Olive, 11, captures it best:
You gotta listen to the children, ‘cause it’s their lives. But it’s also like, sometimes they’ve got some pretty great ideas too.
Georgina Dimopoulos’ research upon which this article is based was partially funded by the Children’s Rights Research Fund (University of Maastricht). She is also a member of the Policy Working Group of the Australian Child Rights Taskforce.
Imagine floating in space, gazing on a frozen white orb. The ball hangs in the void, lonely and gleaming in the light from its star. From pole to equator, the sphere is covered in a thick crust of ice. In orbit around the white planet is a single cratered moon.
You are gazing on Earth in the Cryogenian period, 700 million years ago. This is about three times as long ago as the earliest dinosaurs roamed – but still not long in the scheme of Earth’s mind-bending 4.5 billion years of history.
During the Cryogenian, our planet was plunged into a series of deep freezes when enormous glaciers flowed across the globe.
In new research published in Geology, we show that these crushing rivers of ice, sometimes kilometres deep, pulverised the planet’s rocky surface like enormous bulldozers. When the ice eventually thawed, the ground-up minerals washed into the oceans where they may have provided the nutrients needed for the evolution of complex life.
Into the fridge
According to the Snowball Earth hypothesis, Earth underwent at least two extreme global glaciations during the Cryogenian. Traces of these events can be seen across the globe in sedimentary rocks formed under glacial conditions, strongly suggesting that ice spread from the poles to reach the equatorial region.
Nobody is sure exactly what triggered these deep-freeze events, though scientists have proposed a range of possibilities. One key may have been a significant decline in atmospheric greenhouse gases, particularly carbon dioxide (CO₂).
The CO₂ levels in the atmosphere may have fallen because of increased weathering of rocks situated on a large tropical continent that existed at the time. When continents are positioned in tropical regions, warm, moist conditions accelerate chemical weathering, pulling CO₂ out of the atmosphere, locking it away in carbonate minerals.
Tectonic activity during the breakup of continents that happened during this period may have also played a part. It could have created conditions such as shallow seas, leading to more removal of CO₂ from the air.
As ice sheets advanced toward the tropics, they reflected more sunlight back into space, leading to further cooling. These processes together caused ice to spread rapidly until the planet was almost entirely frozen.
How did Snowball Earth end?
Volcanic activity may have played a crucial role in ending these ice ages. As glaciers covered the planet, interactions between Earth’s crust, oceans and atmosphere slowed dramatically. As a result, when volcanic eruptions injected CO₂ into the atmosphere, it would not have been re-absorbed but rather accumulated over millions of years.
These high levels of CO₂ created a runaway greenhouse effect, warming the planet and eventually melting the ice. The resulting thaw caused rapid sea level rise and an influx of nutrients into the oceans.
Many scientists have considered the idea that changing atmospheric conditions on the thawing of Snowball Earth led to changes in ocean chemistry. In our new research, we found that material scraped off the continents during the thaw may also have played a role.
Snowball to slushball, glacial bulldozer to planetary power hose
We studied sections of rock, from older to younger, through the snowball period to melt down. By doing this, we built up a picture of what the glaciers and the subsequent river systems were doing to the crust of our planet.
We explored minerals with these sequences of rock and found consistent distinctive changes during periods of time when snowball events started and also when thawing occurred.
Snowball Earth events were associated with a pronounced increase in older, deeper crust being exposed and ground down under kilometres of ice.
As the glaciers retreated during thaw periods, massive outflows of melt water transported mineral grains that had been trapped and stabilised under the ice. Once exposed to liquid water, fragile minerals dissolved, releasing chemicals.
This process – like the changes in the atmosphere – would have changed the chemistry of the oceans. The glacial retreat help shaped the distribution of elements critical to ocean ecosystems.
Lessons from the past
The timescales of Earth’s natural processes are important to keep in mind. Over thousands, millions and billions of years, processes such as plate tectonics, erosion, and atmospheric cycles will continue to shape the planet’s future.
On shorter timescales, however, human activities have become the dominant force driving climate change.
While Earth itself will endure, the survival of complex human societies depends on our actions today. We are passengers on an extraordinary “spaceship Earth”, a planet that recycles its chemical building blocks through dynamic geochemical cycles, using matter originally forged in ancient stars.
These processes regulate Earth’s surface and sustain life, even as our planet’s fate is tied to the evolution of the Sun and the cosmos. Humanity, uniquely among Earth’s species, has developed the tools and systems to mitigate existential threats such as climate change, famine, war and even asteroid impacts, yet the effective use of these capabilities remains in our hands.
The deep past provides a guide on how chemical cycles on our planet operate. Whether we will be wise enough to use this information is yet to be seen.
Chris Kirkland 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.
When it comes to how hard an animal can bite, size always matters.
There may be no truer a case of this than the desert rat-kangaroo (Caloprymnus campestris), known as the ngudlukanta to the traditional custodians of its Country of origin, the Wangkangurru Yarluyandi people.
This small, possibly extinct marsupial from the inhospitable Sturt Stony Desert may have had a solid skull built for hard biting. But not enough to bite through the kinds of foods biologists used to think it ate.
We discovered the lack of chomping power in the skull of this rat-kangaroo while testing new approaches for analysing skull biomechanics.
Our results, published today in the Journal of Experimental Biology, may help with ongoing searches for the elusive species.
Declared extinct 30 years ago, there remains hope the critter might still emerge in some parts of its original home range.
A difficult desert
The Sturt Stony Desert in the far north-east of South Australia is one of the world’s most inhospitable places. Few animals can make it their home.
However, one small marsupial species was known to brave the heat, drought, and scarcity of food: the ngudlukanta.
The desert rat-kangaroo, known as ngudlukanta to the Wangkangurru Yarluyandi people. Hedley Herbert Finlayson, The Red Centre, 1935
Sadly, the tiny desert dweller was officially declared extinct in 1994. Weighing just under 1kg, it would have been a perfect snack for introduced predators like foxes and cats. It was further pushed towards extinction by competition with rabbits, overstocking with cattle and sheep, and poor fire management.
Yet, exciting reports of possible sightings of the ngudlukanta still emerge sporadically. Descriptions of its distinctive compact size, combined with its short face and the hopping gait of a kangaroo, have sparked renewed interest in rediscovering this animal.
In the quest to find this elusive little battler, information about its diet is key. It can help people to keep a closer eye on areas where its favourite foods would be found.
From a bite to a diet
To better understand its diet and feeding behaviour, we turned to the animal’s skull.
The ngudlukanta had a solidly built skull, with a short and wide face. This led researchers to suggest that it could eat harder desert foods like roots, nuts and seeds.
But in our latest analysis, we showed that these assessments were probably incorrect. Instead, the animal’s diet was more likely restricted to softer materials, rather than the tougher foods eaten by some of its harder-headed relatives like the burrowing bettong.
The reason for this? It all comes down to its size.
Previous interpretations of its biting ability had drawn conclusions from comparisons of skull shape between species, but without considering size differences between them.
Our results form part of a paper that addresses this issue in the methods that researchers use. We used a method called finite element analysis, which helps to predict how a structure – in this case, a skull – would handle the forces it experiences in the real world.
But what we did differently to other researchers was to keep information about size differences between the skulls in the models.
What did we find?
The skull of the ngudlukanta is definitely efficient at biting, but it is also about one quarter smaller than the skull of the next smallest species in our sample, the northern bettong.
When we included its smaller size in the analysis, the results suggested its relatively short face and robust jaw were unlikely to help it eat harder foods.
Instead, its solid skull features mostly compensated for its small size, but would only allow it to support bites about as hard as those of the long-nosed potoroo – a larger species with a much less efficient skull at biting.
Finite element models simulating the stress of each skull during biting with the front teeth. The stress in the desert rat-kangaroo is more similar to the hard food-eating burrowing bettong when not including its small size in the models. But its stress levels are more like the long-nosed potoroo when including its small size. Authors
Early investigations of stomach contents from the 1930s tell us the ngudlukanta fed mostly on leaves and small amounts of insects. But little further detail exists. A more restricted range of softer, fresher plant materials, as suggested by our analysis, would narrow its range of preferred foods in the deserts it lived in.
Our results therefore paint a picture of a species occupying a delicate position within the desert ecosystem.
An unsolved mystery in a vast desert
In recent years, one of us (Karl Vernes) has mounted several expeditions into the ngudlukanta‘s habitat, hoping to find evidence of its continued existence.
However, finding this tiny marsupial in a vast desert is a challenge – not just because it was probably always rare and elusive, but also because we still know precious little about its ecology.
Eyewitness accounts, remote camera traps, analysis of predator scat (poo) for mammal remains, genetic testing of scats, and the expert ecological knowledge of Traditional Owners have all been used to investigate the possibility of the survival of the ngudlukanta. No definitive evidence has yet emerged.
Whether the ngudlukanta is extinct or not, therefore, remains an unsolved mystery.
But history is replete with examples of rediscovered species believed to be extinct, known as “Lazarus species”. The desert’s vast, inhospitable terrain means it is plausible for a small nocturnal species to be evading detection.
The distinctive short face of the ngudlukanta, alongside its small size and hopping gait, have led eyewitnesses to argue for its persistence. Hedley Herbert Finlayson, The Red Centre, 1935
In fact, the desert rat-kangaroo was already a Lazarus species after its rediscovery in the 1930s. The story of the ngudlukanta therefore serves as a reminder that extinction declarations are not always the end of the story.
If the species is still roaming the most inhospitable regions of the continent, the new knowledge gained from our analysis could help pinpoint areas where the ngudlukanta might persist.
Who knows? The next chapter in the story of this desert-dweller may yet surprise us.
Rex Mitchell has received funding from the Australian Research Council’s Centre of Excellence for Biodiversity and Heritage (CABAH).
Karl Vernes has received funding from the Australian Research Council, the Mohamed bin Zayed Species Conservation Fund, Experiment.com, the Hermon Slade Foundation and Parks Australia. He is a member of the Australian Mammal Society.
Vera Weisbecker receives funding from The Australian Research Council. She is affiliated with The Australian Mammal Society and member of the Australian Greens Party.
