The Conversation – Articles (NZ)

Dick Cheney dies: giant of the US conservative movement whose legacy was defined by the Iraq war

2025-11-04T18:49:14Z

Dick Cheney, one of the most important figures in America’s neo-conservative movement, has died at the age of 84. Cheney had a long career in government and was considered by many as one of the most powerful vice-presidents in US history.

Cheney started his career in politics in 1968 in the office of William Steiger, a Republican representative from Wisconsin, before joining the staff of Donald Rumsfeld, who was at the time the director of the Office of Economic Opportunity. By 1974, Cheney was brought on to the team of Gerald Ford, who had assumed the US presidency that year following the resignation of Richard Nixon. He followed Rumsfeld as Ford’s White House chief of staff in 1975, at the age of 34.

Cheney then went on to spend over a decade serving as a member of the House of Representatives. He represented a district in Wyoming until 1989 when he was appointed secretary of defense by the then-president, George H.W. Bush.

This experience would prove critical to Cheney’s subsequent selection as running mate by Bush’s son, George W. Bush, for his 2000 presidential campaign as the Republican candidate. Bush Jr. went on to win that election, and his partnership with Cheney would ultimately prove incredibly significant in reshaping US foreign policy in the Middle East.

After the 9/11 terrorist attacks in 2001, the neo-conservative movement gained momentum in Washington and found an ally in Cheney. He was a founding signatory of the so-called Project for the New American Century, which became a major forum for neo-conservative thinking. The goal was to promote US interests – namely spreading democracy abroad – through a bold deployment of military power.

This interventionist foreign policy culminated in the 2003 US invasion of Iraq. Considered by some to be a shadow president, Cheney had a huge influence over Bush Jr. He reportedly played a major role in convincing Bush to go to war in Iraq.

Cheney expressed no regrets about this decision, calling critics of the war “spineless” in 2005. But a majority of Americans considered this decision to be a grave error.

The war is estimated to have cost the US well over US$1 trillion (£800 billion), and as much as US$3 trillion when taking the wider regional conflict it sparked into account. The war also led to the deaths of as many as 600,000 Iraqi civilians, according to an estimate published by the Lancet medical journal.

American soldiers on patrol in Taji, Iraq, in 2008. Christopher Landis / Shutterstock

There were also questions about whether Cheney had a conflict of interest. He had previously served as the chief executive of Halliburton, a company that won billions of dollars in US military contracts to restore Iraq’s oil sector – this included some of the biggest military logistics contracts in history. Cheney was even accused of coordinating preferential awarding of contracts to the company, though he and Halliburton denied it.

He was also accused of circumventing due process, constitutional checks and congressional oversight during his time as vice-president. A prominent example of this was his involvement in a programme to intercept domestic communications without a judicial warrant.

Cheney was also widely disliked in the intelligence community. Many of these people resented the way he undermined the CIA by, for example, instructing subordinates in the agency to transmit raw intelligence directly to his office.

Change of heart?

Given that Cheney believed executive power needed to be expanded, there was a degree of irony in his decision to endorse the Democratic candidate, Kamala Harris, in the 2024 presidential election. The winner of that election, Donald Trump, also favours an executive unencumbered by institutions.

But Cheney clearly had his limits. While Bush Jr. was reticent to publicly attack Trump, Cheney became one of his harshest critics. This was especially so after Liz Cheney, his daughter and a now former congresswoman, voted to impeach Trump after the insurrection of January 6 2021, which made her enemy number one in Trump’s eyes.

However, some critics claim that it was Cheney’s shadow presidency that paved the way for Trump’s aggressive expansion of the executive power of the presidency. Along the way, he wielded the power of the vice-presidency in a way not been seen before or, arguably, since.

Cheney was not just powerful but prone to operating clandestinely, even creating an independent operation inside the White House. All of this helped fuel mistrust of the government.

As Cheney advanced in age, his stances seemed to be softening from the Darth Vader image he had embraced as vice-president. More than half of the multi-million fortune that Cheney gained from selling his Halliburton stock options, for example, was donated to the Cardiac Institute at George Washington University.

Cheney, who survived five heart attacks and eventually a heart transplant, was seen a political survivor. But the Republican party that he had led in the shadows has been transformed. Once a towering figure in the conservative movement, today his brand of conservatism is a relic of the past.

Natasha Lindstaedt does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

The threat of space terrorism is no longer science fiction, but we’re ill-prepared to combat it

2025-11-04T17:39:37Z

Getty Images

As satellite technology surges ahead and space becomes increasingly accessible to private and state actors alike, the new and unsettling threat of space terrorism looms above Earth’s atmosphere.

Once the domain of science fiction, the idea of terrorist activity in outer space is now a growing concern among experts.

The democratisation of space has not only opened the door to innovation but also to vulnerability. The current legal frameworks may not be equipped to respond.

Over the past decade, the proliferation of commercial space ventures and the reduced costs of developing satellite technology have dramatically lowered the barriers to entry for “spacefaring”.

This shift has empowered not only governments but also private corporations and, alarmingly, non-state actors.

Groups and individuals once considered insignificant in the realm of space security are now capable of launching cyber attacks on satellites and ground stations.

In March 2022, Network Battalion (NB65), a group affiliated with Anonymous, allegedly hacked the Russian civilian space agency Roscosmos in protest of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.

The group claimed control over several satellites, prompting Roscosmos chief Dmitry Rogozin to declare that disabling another country’s satellites could be considered a “casus belli” – a cause for war.

While causing minimal damage, the incident underscores a broader trend: the increasing capability of non-state actors to disrupt space infrastructure. It also raises urgent questions about accountability, jurisdiction and the adequacy of international law.

Legal vacuum in the cosmos

International space law, anchored by the 1967 Outer Space Treaty, was crafted in an era when only a handful of states had access to orbit.

The treaty emphasises peaceful exploration and cooperation, stating that activities in space must align with the UN Charter and promote international peace. However, it lacks explicit provisions addressing terrorism or the actions of non-state entities.

Article VI of the treaty does hold states responsible for national activities in space, whether conducted by government agencies or private entities. But it fails to define “non-governmental entities” or outline mechanisms for enforcement.

This ambiguity leaves a gaping hole in the legal architecture, especially as private companies increasingly take on roles once reserved for national space agencies.

The Liability Convention of 1972 offers some recourse for damage caused by space object. But it too focuses on state actors and does not contemplate ideologically motivated attacks by rogue groups or individuals.

One of the most pressing challenges in addressing space terrorism is the lack of a coherent definition.

Traditional definitions of terrorism emphasise the intent to coerce a state into action or inaction through violence. But how does this translate to the orbital realm?

Some experts propose defining space terrorism as ideologically motivated destruction targeting the space industry. Their definition captures the economic dimension but omits the national security aspects unique to space.

Without a comprehensive definition, acts ranging from cyber intrusions to physical attacks on satellites risk being misclassified or overlooked entirely.

Historical precedents and emerging threats

Though under-reported, space terrorism is not a new phenomenon. In 1999, the UK’s Skynet military satellite was allegedly targeted by hackers demanding ransom.

While the Ministry of Defence remained tight-lipped, reports suggested communication channels were compromised, hinting at a sophisticated breach of national security.

More recently, Russia has been accused of persistently jamming UK satellites. This tactic disrupts communications and poses serious risks to both civilian and military operations.

These incidents have intensified concern that satellite attacks – whether through hacking, jamming or physical destruction – will become more frequent and sophisticated in the coming years.

As space systems become more integrated with Earth-based infrastructure, supporting everything from telecommunications to navigation, the stakes grow exponentially. Experts warn the next decade could see a surge in ideologically motivated attacks on satellites, with devastating consequences for global security and commerce.

The UN Office for Outer Space Affairs (UNOOSA) has only recently begun to address space security threats. But without a dedicated legal framework, efforts remain fragmented.

One avenue would be to develop transparency and confidence-building measures to cultivate trust and cooperation among state and non-state actors. But data-sharing agreements remain difficult to negotiate due to national security concerns.

Future research must explore how UNOOSA can support states in crafting domestic laws that address space terrorism. This includes defining what constitutes an act of terrorism in space, establishing protocols for incident reporting and determining liability for attacks on commercial and civilian infrastructure.

Space terrorism is no longer a theoretical concern. It is a tangible threat with real-world implications. As the line between state and non-state actors blurs, and as private companies take on greater roles in space exploration, the need for a robust, adaptable legal framework becomes critical.

The question is no longer whether space terrorism occurs, but how the international community responds when it does. Without clear rules, accountability mechanisms and cooperative strategies, humanity risks turning the final frontier into the next battlefield.

Anna Marie Brennan is a Borrin Foundation Women Leaders in Law Fellow.

Tax rises and benefit cuts are on the horizon as Reeves prepares the UK for a bad-news budget

2025-11-04T13:31:15Z

The UK chancellor, Rachel Reeves, has made it clear that taxes will go up, and more cuts to welfare spending are on the horizon. The moves will be deeply unpopular and controversial – but in an extraordinary press conference ahead of the UK budget on November 26, Reeves made it clear that she believes both will be necessary.

In a highly unusual move, the chancellor used the press conference to set out her priorities for balancing the books while growing the economy. Notably, she did not mention the pledge in Labour’s manifesto not to raise taxes on working people or increase national insurance, VAT or income tax.

Instead, she said her focus was on lowering the burden of excessive government borrowing and debt, improving public services and tackling the cost of living.

Reeves gave particular importance to sticking with her “iron-clad” fiscal rules. These, she argued, were essential for showing she is being responsible with the nation’s finances and preventing a further rise in the cost of borrowing (the interest the government pays on its debt).

At more than £100 billion per year, this already makes up 10% of all government spending. The government’s spending watchdog, the Office for Budget Responsibility (OBR), projects the total to rise to £111 billion by the next financial year.

She also emphasised the importance of measures to boost UK productivity. Productivity forecasts are expected to be downgraded by the OBR, heaping yet more pressure on the chancellor’s budget choices. Reeves questioned whether the forecast would accurately predict the future – but has accepted that she will have to work within the OBR’s constraints in this year’s budget.

The chancellor is right that there is a pressing need to boost productivity. But it is by no means certain that planned investment in things like housing, nuclear power and a third runway at Heathrow will yield big gains, at least in the near term.

At the same time, she made it clear that to meet her budget target there will need to be cuts to public spending. Some cuts will come from more “efficiency” savings by government departments (that perennial option that all chancellors reach for).

But they will also come from tackling the UK’s rapidly rising welfare budget, focusing on the large number of young people who are not in education, employment or training but depend on state benefits (so-called “Neets”).

Any cuts to the welfare budget, as well as a failure to abolish the two-child benefit limit (although she is under pressure from colleagues to bite the bullet and axe it), will cause dismay within the parliamentary Labour party as well as many party activists.

Reeves is determined to bring down the UK’s rapidly rising welfare bill. AndrewMcKenna/Shutterstock

As ever, the budget choices will be political as well as economic. Both the Conservatives and Reform UK will accuse Labour of breaking its manifesto promises. They will also claim Labour is undermining any chance of growth by raising taxes by a larger amount than any UK government has done in the last 50 years.

At the same time, it will become even more difficult for Labour to manage its large but fractious parliamentary majority. Earlier this year, backbenchers forced the government to restore the winter fuel payment for some pensioners and abandon plans to cut personal independence payments for disabled claimants.

Local government elections, as well as elections to the Scottish and Welsh parliaments, are looming next May. Reeves risks further alienating Labour’s grassroot supporters and pushing them towards smaller left-wing parties such as the Greens. They already seem to be pulling ahead of Labour among younger voters.

The stakes could not be higher. A bad result could even lead to questions about the future of both the chancellor and the prime minister Keir Starmer.

Finally, the chancellor’s goal to cut the cost of living for working people does not seem particularly ambitious. Her suggested approach involves cutting energy costs by investing more in electricity generation, and reducing the cost of food by changing the business rates system to help small businesses.

Even if effective, these changes will take some time to work through and may not be enough to convince voters that Labour is on their side – particularly if inflation is not brought under control.

Reeves’ appeal to the public to back her long-term approach to sorting out the British economy may be admirable. But the political risks to her personally – and Labour more broadly – remain considerable.

The Conversation and LSE’s International Inequalities Institute have teamed up for a special online event on Tuesday, November 18 from 5pm-6.30pm. Join experts from the worlds of business, taxation and government policy as they discuss the difficult choices facing Chancellor Rachel Reeves in her budget. Sign up for free here

Steve Schifferes 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.

ASIO boss warns of ‘realistic possibility’ foreign government could attempt to kill a dissident in Australia

2025-11-04T09:40:51Z

The Australia Security Intelligence Organisation believes there is a “realistic possibility” a foreign government will try to assassinate a “perceived dissident” in Australia, ASIO’s boss Mike Burgess has revealed.

Delivering the 2025 Lowy lecture on Tuesday, Burgess said: “This threat is real.

"We believe there are at least three nations willing and capable of conducting lethal targeting here. It is entirely possible the regimes would try to hide their involvement by hiring criminal cut outs, as Iran did when directing its arson attacks.”

He stressed he was talking about an “attempt to assassinate”.

“ASIO and our law enforcement partners are acutely alive to this threat and are working around the clock, using all our powers, to protect Australia and Australians,” he said.

Burgess said Australia had never faced simultaneously and at scale so many different threats.

There are multiple, cascading and intersecting threats to our social cohesion, fuelled by three distinct but connected cohorts:

the aggrieved,

the opportunistic, and

the cunning.

He said many Australians were feeling dispossessed, disaffected, and disenfranchised, with spikes in polarisation and intolerance.

Many of the foundations underpinning our security, prosperity and democracy were being tested.

Social cohesion was eroding, there was declining trust in our institutions and truth was being undermined by misinformation, disinformation and conspiracy theories.

“Similar trends are playing out across the Western world.

"Angry, alienated individuals are embracing anti-authority ideologies and conspiracy theories; engaging in uncivil debate and unpeaceful protest.

"Many of the aggrieved do not necessarily espouse violent views, but may still see violence as a legitimate way to effect political or societal change.”

Burgess said extremist organisations were skilled at exploiting fissures in cohesion and harvesting grievances.

“The way nationalist and racist violent extremists attempted to leverage the so-called March for Australia rallies is a case in point.

"The biggest neo-Nazi group, the National Socialist Network – or White Australia as it is rebranding itself – identified the demonstrations as a vehicle to raise its profile.

"It strategically and opportunistically exploited the organisers’ complaints about immigration and the cost of living,” Burgess said.

“Even if the organisation does not engage in terrorism, I remain deeply concerned by its hateful, divisive rhetoric and increasingly violent propaganda, and the growing likelihood these things will prompt spontaneous violence, particularly in response to perceived provocation,” he said.

“While nationalist and racist violent extremists make up the significant majority of our investigations into ideologically motivated extremism, events in the Middle East triggered a troubling increase in anarchist and revolutionary extremism, which is also straining cohesion.

"Since October 2023, we’ve seen more provocative protests and a notable uptick in intentionally disruptive and damaging tactics by anti-Israel activists, including multiple acts of arson, vandalism and violent protest against defence companies accused of supplying weapon components.”

Burgess said of the three cohorts he was canvassing, “the cunning is the most concerning”.

“Aggrieved individuals clawing at our social fabric is one thing. Extremist groups opportunistically undermining it is another.

"But cunning nation states deliberately trying to set the fabric alight and fan the flames is something else again in terms of threat.

"Regimes are operating in a security ‘grey zone – using non-traditional tools to interfere in decision-making, promote discord, amplify distrust and spread false narratives in Western democracies.

"Authoritarian regimes demonstrate a chilling willingness to exploit fault lines in countries they consider hostile.”

He highlighted ASIO’s identifying the Iranian regime being behind some of the anti-semitic attacks in Australia

Burgess said that in our region ASIO was tracking the spread of a strain of extremist propaganda.

“While the material purports to be from a transnational terrorist group, ASIO and our international partners suspect it is fake, and is actually being created and disseminated by a hostile nation state.

"The propaganda glorifies violent extremism and advocates attacks on specific targets, presumably to encourage violence, alarm communities, incite sectarianism and destabilise regional governments.”

He said ASIO had recently uncovered links between pro-Russian influences in Australia and an offshore media organisation that almost certainly received directions from Russian intelligence.

“The Australians publish and push extreme online narratives justifying the invasion of Ukraine and condemning Australia’s support for Kiev.

"Deliberately hiding their connection to Moscow – and the likely instruction from Moscow – the propagandists try to hijack and inflame legitimate debate. They use social media to spread vitriolic, polarising commentary on anti-immigration protests and pro-Palestinian marches.

"ASIO’s investigation is ongoing,” Burgess said.

Michelle Grattan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Jamie Morton joins The Conversation New Zealand as Deputy Editor

2025-11-04T03:07:24Z

Former New Zealand Herald journalist Jamie Morton has joined The Conversation New Zealand as Deputy Editor.

Jamie comes to The Conversation with 20 years of experience in newsrooms, including 14 years at The New Zealand Herald, where he covered science, technology, climate change and the environment.

During his time at the Herald, Jamie reported from disaster zones, global climate summits, national parks and Antarctica. He helped lead the newspaper’s coverage of major events such as the COVID pandemic, the Whakaari/White Island tragedy, the 2016 Kaikoura Earthquake, the 2011 MV Rena disaster and 2023’s Cyclone Gabrielle.

Jamie’s journalism has been recognised with numerous awards and nominations, including being named science reporter of the year four times. Along with his reporting, Jamie has contributed to books and reporting desk guides on climate change and has helped judge national and international awards for science communication and climate journalism.

After leaving the Herald in April 2025, Jamie produced policy briefs, special reports and science and climate-focused articles for NGOs, public agencies, corporate clients and universities. He also helped launch a new editorial partnership between the University of Auckland and Newsroom, exploring various sustainability issues.

“At a time when misinformation and polarisation pose increasingly serious challenges,” says Jamie, “clear, evidence-based journalism and analysis couldn’t be more important.”

Having Jamie join The Conversation New Zealand means we – and more importantly, you, our readers – will enjoy the benefits of his exceptional journalistic skills and experience. His strong background in news and current affairs, and his close contacts in the academic research world, are the perfect fit for The Conversation.

Jamie began his role last week and can be contacted at jamie.morton@theconversation.com.

A deadly European hornet has reached NZ – we can all help stop its spread

2025-11-03T22:24:04Z

An Asian hornet (right) hunting honeybees as they emerge from the hive. Jean-Bernard Nadeau/Science Photo Library, CC BY-NC-ND

The discovery of yellow-legged hornet nests in Auckland is frightening.

There have been five confirmed detections to date. Two of these were small nests, more than a kilometer apart, which suggests there are likely more in the region.

Why should we worry? This hornet is a serious concern for all New Zealanders. Yellow-legged hornets are aggressive predators and can become highly abundant. They threaten people’s health, biodiversity and especially honey bees.

The yellow-legged hornet (Vespa velutina) was accidentally introduced into France in 2004. It then spread rapidly, at around 100 kilometres per year, and was established across France by 2017.

This nest is in France, where hornets are now established. Michiel Vaartjes/Alamy, CC BY-ND

The hornet is now well established in Spain, Portugal, Germany and other European countries. It was first detected in the UK in 2016, and its predicted range extends as far north as Scotland. Their success in Europe suggests they could thrive across much of New Zealand.

In some European areas, densities of up to 13 nests per square kilometre have been recorded, with mature nests housing several thousands of workers. Some even reach up to 13,000 individuals.

Risk to people and pollinators

People can die from hornet stings. Yellow-legged hornets will aggressively defend their nests and have been known to attack people even from hundreds of metres away.

In parts of Europe, they are now considered one of the most common causes of analphylaxis, with multiple stings potentially leading to multi-organ failure. There have also been reports of eye injuries, particularly when well-meaning people attempt to destroy nests. Hornets can spray venom into eyes through the visors of beekeeping suits.

Their diet includes a significant proportion of honey bees. One European study found that 40% of their prey were honey bees, 30% flies and the remainder included other wasps and pollinators. In some high-pressure regions of Europe, beekeepers have reported losses of up to 80% of their hives once yellow-legged hornets became established.

More typical hive losses cluster around 30%. European beekeepers have resorted to desperate control measures – some even stand outside their hives with badminton rackets, swatting the hornets as they hover near the hive entrance.

When preying on honey bees, hornets hover outside hive entrances, waiting for tired bees to return from their foraging trips. The hornet snatches the bee mid-flight, kills it, and carries its body back to its nest as food. If bees sense the hornets, they may stop foraging altogether, staying inside the hive – a behaviour known as “foraging paralysis”.

Yellow-legged hornets feeds on bees and other insects. Bonzami Emmanuelle/Alamy, CC BY-NC-ND

The yellow-legged hornet poses a serious threat to both native and introduced pollinators, and to pollination itself.

Beekeepers in the UK are intensely worried, with reports of record numbers of nests this year, with infestations as far north as Yorkshire. One nest can consume around 11 kilograms of insects in a single season.

Quick action is key to eradication

New Zealand is uniquely vulnerable to wasp and hornet invasions. Unlike the UK and Europe, our biodiversity did not evolve alongside social hornets or wasps. Our native insects have no co-evolved or natural defences.

Add to that our warm, temperate climate, and it’s no surprise we already have some of the world’s highest wasp nest densities and hold the world record for the largest individual wasp nest, at 3.7 metres long. Hornets would likely become widespread and highly damaging if they established here.

If there is any chance of eradication, we must pursue it now.

Invasive hornets and social wasps are hard to eradicate, but it has been done before. In the United States, a programme to eliminate the giant Asian hornet (Vespa mandarinia) appears to have succeeded.

Closer to home, German wasps were successfully eradicated from the Chatham Islands. And Spain at least temporarily celebrated the eradication of the yellow-legged hornet from the island of Mallorca – although populations have since been rediscovered.

The key to success in any eradication programme is acting early, while populations are still small and localised.

Citizen science has played a vital role in early detection and eradication efforts for many invasive species, including these hornets. We have to find the hornet nests to destroy them and it is crucial to do so early in the year, before new queens and males are produced in autumn.

Public trapping and reporting of sightings have already proved invaluable overseas. We need people engaged and watching for these hornets now. Traps have been designed specifically for yellow-legged hornets in Europe, and the Ministry of Primary Industries would be wise to implement them here.

But homemade traps made from plastic drink bottles, cut in half with the top inverted, can work, too. The hornets are attracted to a range of foods in spring, including protein such as fish or meat, and even beer.

If any country can catch this hornet early, it’s New Zealand. Our tradition of public vigilance and commitment to protecting our unique biodiversity would be of major benefit now.

You can report any suspected sightings either online at report.mpi.govt.nz or by calling the exotic pest and disease hotline on 0800 809 966.

Phil Lester 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.

‘How should I cast my soul?’ Patti Smith’s intimate new memoir is a quest for her true self

2025-11-03T19:09:17Z

Steven Sebring/Bloomsbury

Patti Smith’s new memoir, Bread of Angels, arrives on a significant date. On November 4, 1946, Smith’s artistic soulmate and first true love, the late photographer Robert Mapplethorpe, was born. Forty-eight years later, on the same day, her “king among men”, beloved husband and fellow musician, Fred “Sonic” Smith, died of a heart attack.

It seems entirely fitting that this most intimate, comprehensive book – a decade in the making – should be published on such a hallowed day, almost 50 years exactly since her debut album, Horses, was released.

“The hourglass overturns,” she writes in the opening pages, shattering the illusion of time. “Each grain a word that erupts into a thousand more, the first and last moments of every living thing.”

Like her poetry, Smith’s life writing is profound and illuminating. The award-winning Just Kids (a reader-voted New York Times best book of the 21st century) details her extraordinary relationship with Mapplethorpe, as the two establish their artistic careers in New York during the 1970s. M Train and Year of the Monkey offer insights into her spiritual outlook and creative process as she contemplates the passing of time while travelling the world. Devotion explores the business of writing as a call to action that keeps her from being subsumed by the work of others.

Bread of Angels folds all of this together, weaving reverie, dreams, visions and images into an autobiographical tale of deep love, unbearable loss, fortitude and artistic practice. Inevitably, some of the details appear in Smith’s previous works, but here she spins them anew, casting a more intimate light, achieving a greater sense of completion.

Loosely arranged around the recurring motif of the “rebel hump”, ultimately this book is the story of Smith’s quest for her true self. It follows her on a journey of individuation, through one painful growth period after another, as she strives to disguise the “miniature Quasimodo” that lurks, metaphorically, inside her body.

Over the decades, Smith edges her way around her “unbecoming” hump, harnessing her innate curiosity and powerful imagination into a foundation of unshakeable self-belief and self-possession. An inimitable force, she develops a level of conviction that borders on hubris yet rests on humility, as she takes her cues from the spirit world.

Naturally reflective, with a questioning mind, Smith continually wonders who she is and who she is becoming. At the same time, she resists self-doubt and refuses compromise. “I always felt like myself,” she writes. “And there were times when I didn’t identify with anybody.”

Her physical image develops accordingly. Now almost 79, with her wild grey hair, soulful, smiling eyes and an arresting gaze, Smith possesses the hard-won beauty of wisdom. She is a younger woman on the cover of her new book: alluring and ethereal, her introspective expression contrasting with a gesture of supplication.

The photograph, taken by Mapplethorpe for her 1979 album, Wave, was intended to capture the essence of Dancing Barefoot, her love song for Fred – and to bid her fans farewell on the eve of her retirement.

Like the book it now adorns, the image radiates both intimacy and mystery, and carries the shiver of a spell.

Patti Smith performing Dancing Barefoot, her love song for her husband Fred, in 1979.

Quivering with meaning

Beginning with her childhood, Bread of Angels recalls Smith’s life through significant events and personal experiences that quiver with meaning. It spans her impoverished upbringing in Philadelphia and her pivotal role as a post-punk revolutionary in New York, to family life in Michigan with Fred – and finally her return, through grief, to writing, travel and performance.

Throughout, Smith navigates the world by symbols and synchronicity, finding sacred patterns and purpose where others might see only luck or coincidence. At seven, a dangerous bout of scarlet fever is a “mystical illness” to be conquered so she can atone for stealing from a friend who dies of lupus. At ten, a broken foot is a reminder to keep a clear head. During a growth spurt, she finds affinity with the local weed trees. “You are my bamboo, I would whisper, the princesses of the train yard.”

Smith was born in Chicago, with bronchial distress, on December 30, 1946: to Beverly, a widowed waitress, and her second husband, Grant, a returning soldier weakened by malaria. A sickly but spirited girl, she grew up in condemned housing with three younger siblings.

Talkative and curious, Smith led her brother and sisters in elaborate games, throwing herself into boisterous play, fending off the local bullies, finding solace in quiet pockets of nature with the precious books that fed her inner world.

Entranced by her favourite fairy tales, she would toss her pocket money into the overgrown garden of an abandoned cottage in the hope it would transform into gold, and once spent the morning communing with a snapping “king” turtle instead of going to school. A social studies project initiated her interest in Buddhism. She felt the presence of spirits in the fields around her home and believed in the magical properties of material objects.

Reluctant to lose her sense of wonder, she resolved to stay connected to these more visionary realms as she grew older, like “a singular traveler in search of the garden of childhood’s hour”.

On a family outing to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, 13-year-old Smith came across the work of Picasso and vowed to dedicate herself to the transformative power of art. Adolescence brought poetry and music in the shape of Oscar Wilde, Mexican artist Diego Rivera, French poet Arthur Rimbaud and Bob Dylan.

But at 19, while training to be a schoolteacher, Smith was prematurely wrenched into adulthood through pregnancy. Faced with little choice for her child, she arranged an adoption and underwent a lonely and difficult birth. Physically and emotionally scarred, dismissed from college, she packed a suitcase, turned her back on her family, and boarded a bus for New York: heartbroken, but intent on keeping her promise to Picasso. The year was 1967.

Just Kids

In the city, Smith met Mapplethorpe. The pair became key players in New York’s vibrant community of visionaries and creatives, while embarking on an intense relationship. Eventually, his attraction to men split them up, but the pair remained deeply bound to each other within the socially and culturally progressive arts movements of the late 60s and early 70s.

Just Kids offers a poignant close-up of this period, chronicling the details of the couple’s formative years together. The new book focuses more on Smith’s spiritual evolution and changing identity within her social milieu during this time. As her musical and artistic circles expanded, she drew on a widening range of influences while staying true to herself, all the while, asking: “how should I cast my soul?”

New York’s burgeoning underground music scene provided the answer. In 1971, Smith began performing her poetry, accompanied by guitarist Lenny Kaye. Before long, she gathered her band and transmuted into a rock’n’roll revolutionary, claiming her territory with thrilling live shows. In 1975, her groundbreaking debut album, Horses, was released to critical acclaim.

With its improvisational direction and Mapplethorpe’s iconic cover photograph, Horses embodied freedom and defiance. Opening with a reworking of Van Morrison’s Gloria, a sexual song clearly intended to be sung by a man, the record confronted the limitations of duality, refused the constraints of convention and issued an explosive challenge to the establishment. Smith was launched as the high priestess of punk and set off on the road with her band, entrancing audiences across America with her bewitching stage presence.

“I had new dark glasses, charms sweet angels stitched on my sleeve,” writes Smith of her new incarnation. “The hyena was showing her wet teeth […] We were touring Horses, riding straight into the future.”

Life-changing love

Four months after the release of Horses, at a party before her show in Detroit, Smith had a momentary but fateful encounter with former MC5 guitarist, Fred “Sonic” Smith. Touring commitments dictated the initial pace of their relationship, but Smith knew this tall, brooding man with the pale blue eyes would alter the course of her life.

After recording her second album, Radio Ethiopia, another turning point occurred in January 1977: supporting roots rock musician Bob Seger in Florida, Smith tumbled from a dangerously high stage and sustained serious injuries. Left with fractures to her skull and spine, she was forced into a lengthy rehabilitation but chose to find divine meaning and creative direction in her accident. Encouraged by Lenny Kaye, she spent her recovery writing poems for what would become her first published volume, Babel.

During this time, her love for Fred deepened. But as she grew stronger, she began to grapple with her need to write in solitude, and the opposing impulse to get back on the road.

In 1979, two more albums later (Easter and Wave, each containing songs either inspired by or co-written with Fred), Smith finally departed from rock'n'roll – after the theft of a tour truck in Chicago.

Exhausted by constant travel between New York and Fred in Detroit, she was no longer writing, drawing or journaling. She interpreted the robbery as an opportunity, and conducted a psychological and emotional audit. “I threw open the carpet of my life,” she writes. “It was time to hold myself accountable trusting there was no harsher judge nor jury.”

In a typically symbolic gesture, towards the end of what proved to be her final show in September, she invited the crowd to swarm the stage, encouraging her fans to replace her by occupying their own central positions instead.

And so, aged 32, Smith arrived at her next point of departure, or her “second declaration of existence”, as she calls it. A few months after her final show, during the leap year of 1980, she and Fred were married in a small, private ceremony at the Mariners’ Church in Detroit, at the time of a full moon, on March 1.

Patti Smith performing with love of her life, Fred ‘Sonic’ Smith.

A life of quiet romance

Away from the spotlight, Smith lived a life of quiet romance in St Clair Shores, near Detroit, with her husband. Beyond the confines of time, tied to nobody but each other, the couple fell into their own rhythms, creating a home in a little Belgian-style house, complete with a turret. Here, with her low table, a Moroccan silk cushion and a Persian cup for her mint tea, she found a way to be “entirely myself”, writing and ruminating in the room she called “my vagabondia”.

The couple’s occasionally lonely existence was obscure and authentic. It required Smith to grow into a better version of herself, both as a person and a writer. All the while, her mind and imagination continued to dance, nourishing her internal world while she performed her domestic tasks and renovated a boat with Fred.

In time, the couple had two children, Jackson, born in 1982 and Jesse, born in 1987, and the days took on a different shape. With a family to support, Smith and Fred needed to generate an income. Together, they wrote and recorded Dream of Life (released in 1988) and planned a follow-up album with the working title, Going West.

In March 1989, Mapplethorpe succumbed to complications from HIV in a Boston hospital. Utterly bereft, Smith channelled her grief into The Coral Sea, a loving tribute of prose poetry to the man she refers to as her “artist in life”.

The following year, Fred fell ill. After a few difficult months of sickness, he was admitted to the hospital where his children were born. Aged 46, he died from a heart attack on what would have been Mapplethorpe’s 43rd birthday, November 4, 1994.

Loss and renewed purpose

Smith briefly refers to Fred as a “troubled man” whose health was damaged by drugs in his late teens and twenties. “I was never to penetrate the true nature of those troubles,” she writes, adding “his decline was the tragedy of my life, and it profits no one to outline the private battles of a very private man.”

Heartbroken, she lay her personal king and protector to rest in the church where they married, wearing the expensive black gown she wore when they met. At the memorial service, she sang What a Wonderful World, after hearing it on the car radio on her way there. She didn’t particularly like the song, but Fred had always deemed it hers because of her optimistic nature. Now, it seemed he was insisting she perform it just for him.

By Christmas, Smith had regained enough energy to buy presents for her children, but on her return from the toyshop, she suffered another blow. She came home to the news that her brother Todd had died from a stroke.

Smith was broken by this third, devastating bereavement. She stopped writing, retreated into a state of emptiness, and waited for a sign from Fred. In February 1995, while the snow was falling and her children were asleep, she received a phone call from REM’s singer, Michael Stipe who told her how sorry he was about her husband. Knowing she was alone, he offered to be her Valentine, a kindness which touched her deeply.

Very slowly, with the support of friends, Smith began another journey towards yet another new life back in New York. It was not an easy return. The city had changed beyond recognition since she left, and she was set adrift, wandering through the streets in tears. One day, wearing Fred’s leather jacket, she bumped into photographer Annie Leibovitz. who whisked the grief-stricken, disoriented singer away to her studio. There, they shot what would eventually be the cover photograph for Gone Again, the album first mapped out with Fred as Going West.

Slowly, Smith began to find renewed purpose in the present, and the courage to face her future.

Recognising the rebel hump

The closing chapters of this shimmering memoir pay homage to Smith’s parents, Grant and Beverly, as she recovers long-held secrets regarding her genetic identity and searches for her first, adopted daughter. These interlocking, profoundly moving stories offer the author a certain resolution as she pieces her personal puzzle together, working from the future back into the past.

Shifting, recalibrating, ultimately settling, by tracing “the blood of my mosaic” she is left with a new understanding of herself – and her parents – and is able to locate herself more firmly within the world.

In the concluding pages, from a hotel room in Nice, fittingly overlooking the Bay of Angels, she returns to the motif of the rebel hump as she muses on the ways in which she has changed and not changed over the years.

She imagines a young girl plucking a mirror from the grass. A girl who leaps with joy and lands with delicate certainty – who now accepts the rebel hump, finally recognising its value in a conscious, and loving, act of integration.

Liz Evans 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.

Does fasting dull your mental edge? We crunched the data for the best advice

2025-11-03T19:09:05Z

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Ever worried that skipping breakfast might leave you foggy at work? Or that intermittent fasting would make you irritable, distracted and less productive?

Snack food ads warn us that “you’re not you when you’re hungry”, reinforcing a common belief that eating is essential to keep our brains sharp.

This message is deeply woven into our culture. We’re told constant fuelling is the secret to staying alert and efficient.

Yet time-restricted eating and intermittent fasting have become hugely popular wellness practices over the past decade. Millions do it for long-term benefits, from weight management to improved metabolic health.

This raises a pressing question: can we reap the health rewards of fasting without sacrificing our mental edge? To find out, we conducted the most comprehensive review to date of how fasting affects cognitive performance.

Why fast in the first place?

Fasting isn’t just a trendy diet hack. It taps into a biological system honed over millennia to help humans cope with scarcity.

When we eat regularly, the brain runs mostly on glucose, stored in the body as glycogen. But after about 12 hours without food, those glycogen stores dwindle.

At that point, the body performs a clever metabolic switch: it begins breaking down fat into ketone bodies (for example, acetoacetate and beta-hydroxybutyrate), which provide an alternative fuel source.

This metabolic flexibility, once crucial for our ancestors’ survival, is now being linked to a host of health benefits.

Some of the most promising effects of fasting come from the way it reshapes processes inside the body. For instance, fasting activates autophagy, a kind of cellular “cleanup crew” that clears away damaged components and recycles them, a process thought to support healthier ageing.

It also improves insulin sensitivity, allowing the body to manage blood sugar more effectively and lowering the risk of conditions such as type 2 diabetes.

Beyond that, the metabolic shifts triggered by fasting appear to offer broader protection, helping reduce the likelihood of developing chronic diseases often associated with overeating.

What the data showed

These physiological benefits have made fasting attractive. But many hesitate to adopt it out of fear their mental performance will plummet without a steady supply of food.

To address this, we conducted a meta-analysis, a “study of studies”, looking at all the available experimental research that compared people’s cognitive performance when they were fasting versus when they were fed.

Our search identified 63 scientific articles, representing 71 independent studies, with a combined sample of 3,484 participants tested on 222 different measures of cognition. The research spanned nearly seven decades, from 1958 to 2025.

After pooling the data, our conclusion was clear: there was no meaningful difference in cognitive performance between fasted and satiated healthy adults.

People performed just as well on cognitive tests measuring attention, memory and executive function whether they had eaten recently or not.

When fasting does matter

Our analysis did reveal three important factors that can change how fasting affects your mind.

First, age is key. Adults showed no measurable decline in mental performance when fasting. But children and adolescents did worse on tests when they skipped meals.

Their developing brains seem more sensitive to fluctuations in energy supply. This reinforces longstanding advice: kids should go to school with a proper breakfast to support learning.

Timing also seems to make a difference. We found longer fasts were associated with a smaller performance gap between fasted and fed states. This might be due to the metabolic switch to ketones, which can restore a steady supply of energy to the brain as glucose runs out.

Performance in fasted individuals tended to be worse when tests were conducted later in the day, suggesting fasting might amplify the natural dips in our circadian rhythms.

The type of test also mattered. When cognitive tasks involved neutral symbols or shapes, fasting participants performed just as well, or sometimes even slightly better.

But when tasks included food-related cues, fasted participants slipped. Hunger doesn’t create universal brain fog, but it does make us more easily distracted when food is on our minds.

What this means for you

For most healthy adults, the findings offer reassurance: you can explore intermittent fasting or other fasting protocols without worrying that your mental sharpness will vanish.

That said, fasting isn’t a one-size-fits-all practice. Caution is warranted with children and teens, whose brains are still developing and who appear to need regular meals to perform at their best.

Similarly, if your job requires peak alertness late in the day, or if you’re frequently exposed to tempting food cues, fasting might feel harder to sustain.

And of course, for certain groups, such as those with medical conditions or special dietary needs, fasting may not be advisable without professional guidance.

Ultimately, fasting is best seen as a personal tool rather than a universal prescription. And its benefits and challenges will look different from person to person.

David Moreau 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.

Don’t dismiss kids’ sadness or anger. How to minimise family conflict over the social media ban

2025-11-03T19:08:40Z

Cottonbro Studio/ Pexels

In just over a month Australia’s social media ban will begin.

From December 10, those under 16 will only be able to see publicly available content on platforms such as Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, TikTok, X and YouTube. They will not be able to have their own accounts.

For example, they could look up Taylor Swift’s latest music video on YouTube, but they would not be able to post their own content.

There are no penalties for children who access an account on an age-restricted platform, or for their parents. Platforms face fines of up to A$49.5 million if they don’t take reasonable steps to implement the ban.

While the changes have been welcomed by some safety experts and parent advocates, eSafety acknowledges, “many parents and carers are worried about how under 16s will react to no longer having access to social media accounts”.

If you have a child or teen who loves social media, how can you help approach this change, while minimising conflict in your family?

Social media is already a source of conflict

My research shows young people’s social and digital media use is already a major source of conflict for families.

A lot of the tension comes from parents not understanding the important role digital media plays in young people’s lives, and young people reacting to “unfair” restrictions imposed by parents.

So conflict around screen time rules and parents’ social media restrictions is common. Young people can put a lot of pressure on their parents for devices or access to certain platforms to fit in with their peers (“but all my friends have it”).

One of the federal government’s rationales for the social media ban is to help parents manage this situation – because people are already finding it hard.

So, potentially, some families may find relief in being able to say “this is just what the government says, this is the law”.

Uncertainty ahead

But we still don’t really know what’s going to happen come December 10. Some of the criticism of the ban has been that young people will find a way around it, such as by using a VPN (which can mask location and identity). Experts are also concerned about the reliability and privacy implications of age verification technology,

Meanwhile, some parents may also help their children circumvent the restrictions.

If a lot of parents in a friendship group are helping their children get around the ban, this could in turn create pressures on other parents and lead to conflict or resentment in families.

Parents need to remember there is no blanket right or wrong answer. All families and kids are different and its important to make decisions based on your family values and your child’s maturity.

Acknowledge it’s hard

Either way, if young people are used to social media and suddenly it’s gone, they might be really sad, annoyed or angry. And parents will have to manage the fall out.

We know young people can forge important connections with others over social media. It’s not just mindless scrolling, it’s a significant way to interact with peers. This is especially important for marginalised young people.

So young people will need to find other ways to connect – and parents should help their kids maintain their social connections.

It’s also important parents are not dismissive and acknowledge this may be a difficult time and transition.

Young people tend to respond much better to rules and regulations when they are given a clear rationale and a clear reason.

For example,

I know it’s hard. It’s out of my hands, this is a decision made by the government. We may not like it, but this is the way it is. Can I help you find another way to connect with your friends or participate in these communities?

You may also want to note how time away from social media, where young people may be doomscrolling or exposed to cyberbullying, can be healthy.

Don’t assume kids are now ‘safe’

One risk of the ban is parents will now think kids are “safe” online. We know children are likely to find other spaces online – and if they don’t, their friends will. And the ban only covers certain platforms.

Parents needs to keep talking to their children about what they see and do online

Parents also need to keep providing opportunities for children to develop critical digital literacy skills – this means they can assess what they are reading and seeing and not just taking it on face value. Children also need help to navigate social relationships online as they grow up.

This means children under 16 need ongoing opportunities to explore online spaces with support and guidance. This doesn’t necessarily mean parents monitor everything their children do online. But they should show an interest in their children’s activities, and be available to help navigate any risks and tricky situations.

Catherine Page Jeffery receives funding from the Australian Research Council.

Congress has been dodging responsibility for tariffs for decades – now the Supreme Court will decide how far presidents can go alone

2025-11-03T18:38:13Z

On Nov. 5, the U.S. Supreme Court will hear one of the most consequential trade cases in decades. The justices will decide whether a president can rely on a Cold War–era emergency law, the International Emergency Economic Powers Act, to impose sweeping import duties on a vast share of what the United States buys from abroad.

At stake is more than the scope of presidential power. The case highlights a deeper question of accountability: Who should decide what Americans pay for imported goods – the president acting alone, unelected judges reading emergency laws broadly, or the elected representatives who must face voters when prices rise?

When tariffs end up in court, it’s usually because Congress has failed to act. Over the past few decades, lawmakers have ceded much of their trade authority to presidents eager to move quickly – and the courts have been left to clean up the mess. Each new lawsuit makes it seem as though judges are running the economy when, in fact, they’re being pulled into policy questions they’re neither trained nor elected to answer.

As an economist, not a lawyer, I view this as more than a constitutional curiosity. It’s about how the world’s largest economy makes decisions that ripple through global markets, factory floors and family budgets. A duty on steel may help a mill in Ohio while raising bridge-construction and car-buying costs everywhere else. A tariff on electronics might nudge assembly onshore yet squeeze hospital and school budgets that depend on those devices.

These are choices about distribution – who gains, who pays, and for how long – that demand analysis, transparency and, above all, democratic ownership.

How did the US get here?

Congress didn’t exactly lose its tariff power; it gave it away.

The Constitution assigns “Taxes, Duties, Imposts and Excises” to Congress, not the White House. Historically, Congress set tariff lines in law – consider the Smoot–Hawley Tariff Act of 1930. The pivot began with the Reciprocal Trade Agreement Act of 1934, which let presidents adjust rates within limits via executive agreements. In the 1960s and ’70s, Congress passed laws expanding the president’s authority over trade, granting new powers to restrict or adjust imports without a separate congressional vote if certain conditions are met.

In my view, two key incentives drove the drift: blame avoidance and gridlock. Tariffs are redistributive by design: They benefit some sectors and regions while imposing costs on others. Casting a vote that helps steelworkers in one state but raises prices for builders in another is politically risky. Delegating to the White House allowed lawmakers to sidestep the fallout when prices rise or when jobs shift.

And as polarization intensified, the bargaining that once produced workable compromises became increasingly complex. Broad emergency statutes and open-ended delegations became the path of least resistance – fast, unilateral and insulated from negotiation. Over time, exceptions became the norm, and courts were tasked with resolving the gray areas.

That’s a poor way to run economic policy.

Judges interpret statutes and precedent; they don’t run general equilibrium models, forecast inflation paths or map supply chain rerouting. Evidence in court is confined to a single case file. Remedies are blunt: They are either to uphold, strike down or send back. Tariff design, by contrast, is about calibration: how high, how long, which sectors, which exclusions, what off-ramps, what triggers for renewal or repeal.

When lawsuits substitute for legislation, countries drift into policy by injunction. Companies see rules whipsaw; projects are delayed or shelved; households experience price swings that feel arbitrary; trading partners retaliate against policies they see as improvisational.

A matter of accountability

Accountability sits at the center of the problem. Most judges aren’t elected; lawmakers are. Lifetime tenure protects judicial independence – good for rights, bad for setting taxes. No one can vote out a court when tariffs push up the price of a school Chromebook or a contractor’s rebar.

Members of Congress, by contrast, must explain themselves. They can hold hearings, commission impact analyses, hear from unions and small businesses, and then defend the trade-offs. If tariffs save jobs in one town but raise prices nationwide, voters know exactly whom to reward or punish. That democratic link is why the Constitution places “Duties and Imposts” in the hands of Congress.

None of this means paralysis when it comes to trade policy. The United States has done this before – via trade-promotion and fast-track authorities that set clear goals and required renewal votes – while the EU and Japan have paired swift action with built-in legislative oversight.

Congress can be nimble without being reckless. Best practices for tariffs include setting clear targets using accessible language, having independent analysts conduct reviews before and after a tariff is put in place, and having diplomacy baked into a broader trade-security strategy that reports retaliation risks.

The challenge facing the court

In my view, the Supreme Court’s role here is both modest and vital: to enforce the statute and the constitutional line.

If a general emergency law doesn’t clearly authorize sweeping, long-duration tariffs, it’s not activism to say so plainly. It’s boundary-keeping that returns the pen to Congress. What I think the court should avoid is appearing to write the tariff code from the bench. That swaps democratic ownership for judicial improvisation and guarantees more litigation as a strategy.

In theory, a more public, accountable system would also free everyone to focus on what they do best. That means economists measuring who gains and who pays, lawmakers weighing trade-offs and answering to voters, and courts enforcing the rules – not designing the policy.

Bedassa Tadesse does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

All government shutdowns disrupt science − in 2025, the consequences extend far beyond a lapse in funding

2025-11-03T13:13:00Z

The government shutdown will continue until Congress can pass a bill reopening it. Samuel Corum/AFP via Getty Images

U.S. science always suffers during government shutdowns. Funding lapses send government scientists home without pay. Federal agencies suspend new grant opportunities, place expert review panels on hold, and stop collecting and analyzing critical public datasets that tell us about the economy, the environment and public health.

In 2025, the stakes are higher than in past shutdowns.

This shutdown arrives at a time of massive upheaval to American science and innovation driven by President Donald Trump’s ongoing attempts to extend executive power and assert political control of scientific institutions.

With the shutdown entering its fifth week, and with no end in sight, the Trump administration’s rapid and contentious changes to federal research policy are rewriting the social contract between the U.S. government and research universities – where the government provides funding and autonomy in exchange for the promise of downstream public benefits.

As a physicist and policy scholar, I both study and have a vested interest in the state of U.S. science funding as a recipient of federal grants. I write about the history and governance of American science policy, including the nation’s investments in research and development.

In the context of broader policy reforms to federal grantmaking, student and high-skilled immigration, and scientific integrity, this shutdown has both known and unknown consequences for the future of U.S. science.

Funding freezes, data gaps and unpaid workers

Over the past two decades, the story of government shutdowns has become all too familiar. Shutdowns occur when Congress fails to pass an appropriations bill before the start of the new fiscal year on Oct. 1, and, paraphrasing Article 1, Section 9 of the U.S. Constitution, the government can no longer spend money.

This funding gap affects all but essential government operations, such as the work of postal workers, air traffic controllers and satellite operators. Nonessential employees, including tens of thousands of government scientists, are barred from working and stop receiving paychecks.

With scientists and program officers at home, activities at the nearly two dozen federal agencies participating in research and development, such as the National Science Foundation and the National Institutes of Health, come to a halt. New grant opportunities and review panels are postponed or canceled, researchers at government laboratories stop collecting and analyzing data, and university projects reliant on federal funding are put at risk.

Extended shutdowns accelerate the damage. They leave bigger gaps in government data, throw federal employees into debt or lead them to dip into their savings, and force academic institutions to lay off staff paid through government grants and contracts.

Funding, public services and the rule of law

Even for shutdowns lasting a few days, it can take science agencies months to catch up on the backlog of paperwork, paychecks and peer review panels before they return to regular operations.

This year, the government faces mounting challenges to overcome once the shutdown ends: Trump and the director of the White House budget office, Russell Vought, are using the shutdown as an opportunity to “shutter the bureaucracy” and pressure universities to bend to the administration’s ideological positions on topics such as campus speech, gender identity and admission standards.

As the budget standoff nears the record for the longest shutdown ever, agency furloughs, reductions in force, canceled grants and jeopardized infrastructure projects document the devastating and immediate damage to the government’s ability to serve the public.

President Donald Trump alongside Office of Management and Budget Director Russell Vought. Brendan Smialowski/AFP via Getty Images

However, the full impact of the shutdown and the Trump administration’s broader assaults on science to U.S. international competitiveness, economic security and electoral politics could take years to materialize.

In parallel, the dramatic drop in international student enrollment, the financial squeeze facing research institutions, and research security measures to curb foreign interference spell an uncertain future for American higher education.

With neither the White House nor Congress showing signs of reaching a budget deal, Trump continues to test the limits of executive authority, reinterpreting the law – or simply ignoring it.

Earlier in October, Trump redirected unspent research funding to pay furloughed service members before they missed their Oct. 15 paycheck. Changing appropriated funds directly challenges the power vested in Congress – not the president – to control federal spending.

The White House’s promise to fire an additional 10,000 civil servants during the shutdown, its threat to withhold back pay from furloughed workers and its push to end any programs with lapsed funding “not consistent with the President’s priorities” similarly move to broaden presidential power.

Here, the damage to science could snowball. If Trump and Vought chip enough authority away from Congress by making funding decisions or shuttering statutory agencies, the next three years will see an untold amount of impounded, rescinded or repurposed research funds.

The government shutdown has emptied many laboratories staffed by federal scientists. Combined with other actions by the Trump administration, more scientists could continue to lose funding. Monty Rakusen/DigitalVision via Getty Images

Science, democracy and global competition

While technology has long served as a core pillar of national and economic security, science has only recently reemerged as a key driver of greater geopolitical and cultural change.

China’s extraordinary rise in science over the past three decades and its arrival as the United States’ chief technological competitor has upended conventional wisdom that innovation can thrive only in liberal democracies.

The White House’s efforts to centralize federal grantmaking, restrict free speech, erase public data and expand surveillance mirror China’s successful playbook for building scientific capacity while suppressing dissent.

As the shape of the Trump administration’s vision for American science has come into focus, what remains unclear is whether, after the shutdown, it can outcompete China by following its lead.

Kenneth Evans receives funding from the National Science Foundation, the American Institute of Physics, and the Clinton Foundation. He is affiliated with Rice University's Baker Institute for Public Policy.

COP30: NZ’s lack of climate ambition undermines global goals and free-trade agreements

2025-11-03T01:20:57Z

Climate change minister Simon Watts. Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images

As nations prepare to gather in Brazil next week for this year’s United Nations climate summit COP30, only a third have so far submitted the required update on their emissions-reduction commitments, known as Nationally Determined Contributions (NDCs).

China, the world’s largest emitter, and major fossil fuel exporters such as Iran, Russia and Australia, are among states that have updated their NDCs, but they have been criticised for lack of ambition.

Likewise, New Zealand, which announced in February it would commit to reducing emissions by 51–55% below 2005 levels by 2035. This amounts to only 1–5% above the country’s previous NDC of a 50% cut by 2030 and has been described as “underwhelming”.

This comes as UN Secretary-General Antonio Gutteres warned that humanity has failed to keep warming at 1.5°C and must change course urgently towards deeper and faster emissions cuts.

The Paris Agreement requires states to pledge successively more ambitious NDCs. Technically, New Zealand’s NDC represents a progression, albeit the smallest possible one.

It was criticised as insufficiently aligned with the Paris Agreement’s purpose to hold global average temperature rise well below 2°C above pre-industrial levels and to pursue efforts to keep it at 1.5°C.

Lack of climate ambition

Several domestic climate-related legal and policy changes are sending a message that New Zealand’s coalition government isn’t treating climate change as a high priority.

The Fast-track Approvals Act, which came into force at the end of 2024, has accelerated permits to explore and develop New Zealand’s petroleum and mineral resources (including metallurgical coal used in steel production), facilitating new fossil fuel use at home and abroad.

In August this year, the government passed the Crown Minerals Amendment Act 2025 to overturn a ban on offshore oil and gas exploration which had been in place since 2018. It also pledged NZ$200 million to co-invest in the development of new gas fields.

In October, the government lowered targets for methane emissions. This will require an amendment to the country’s flagship climate legislation, the Climate Change Response (Zero Carbon) Amendment Act 2019.

The previous target was to cut methane emissions from livestock by 25–47% below 2017 levels, but the government has reduced this to 14–24% and ruled out a methane tax on agricultural emissions. This is contrary to the Climate Change Commission’s recommendation to raise the target to 35–47%.

New Zealand’s transport emissions continue to rise but the government axed a clean investment fund. And recently, it softened mandatory climate reporting requirements and lifted the threshold for how big a company needs to be before it has to report on its efforts to cut emissions.

There are some welcome developments, including the government’s NZ$46 million investment in a climate finance initiative in partnership with the United Kingdom.

The Transforming Island Development through Electrification and Sustainability (TIDES) fund will finance renewable energy projects in six Pacific Island countries – Fiji, Tonga, Samoa, Cook Islands, Vanuatu and Solomon Islands – that currently rely on imported energy. This will strengthen the Pacific region’s renewable energy options and reduce reliance on polluting and expensive diesel imports.

Also positive are government plans to double renewable energy by 2050 and to install 10,000 electric vehicle charging stations by 2030, although critics point out little progress has been made towards the latter.

But perhaps the clearest signal of the government’s move away from climate-conscious leadership is the decision in June this year to quit the Beyond Oil and Gas Alliance (BOGA). Established at COP26 in 2021, BOGA is an international coalition of states working to accelerate the managed phase-out of oil and gas production and support a just transition to clean energy.

Trade and climate commitments

Many of these moves have been defended as necessary to deliver on the government’s priority to build a stronger and more productive economy.

The government sees trade as crucial to this. It has heralded the free-trade agreement between the European Union and New Zealand as a successful catalyst for boosted trade, supporting 8% growth in two-way trade and reaching a record $21.6 billion of annual trade in goods and services since it came into force in May 2024.

But the EU-NZ free-trade agreement should also act as a reminder that international trade must go hand in hand with responsible action on climate change. The agreement commits both parties to:

effectively implement the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change and the Paris Agreement, including commitments with regard to nationally determined contributions and … to refrain from any action or omission that materially defeats the object and purpose of the Paris Agreement.

It also requires parties to:

promote the mutual supportiveness of trade and climate policies and measures, thereby contributing to the transition to a low greenhouse gas emission, resource-efficient and circular economy and to climate-resilient development.

The central aim of the Paris Agreement is to strengthen the global response to climate change by limiting global temperature rise. Government actions that loosen emissions targets and facilitate and invest in new fossil fuel use are contrary to this aim.

Consequently, such actions risk undermining the EU-NZ free-trade agreement and other agreements crucial to delivering on the government’s promise of economic growth.

As New Zealand’s representatives head to Brazil, they should have this trade-climate connection firmly in mind. Climate-attuned policies at home alongside stronger international commitments, including an ambitiously revised NDC, are necessary for limiting destructive climate change. They also make good economic sense.

Nathan Cooper 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.

Tony Abbott’s history of Australia wants us to be proud of men like him

2025-11-03T00:10:08Z

Former prime minister (and journalist) Tony Abbott has published a political history of Australia. Across 18 well-written chapters, he narrates the nation’s trajectory, starting with the establishment of a penal colony in 1788 and ending with the failed Voice referendum of 2023. Abbott’s aim is to restore national pride by showing that our past was “far more good than bad”.

Review: Australia: A History – Tony Abbott (Harper Collins)

This “balance sheet” approach was first introduced to Australia by historian Geoffrey Blainey in 1993, sparking the “history wars”. Argument focused on the impact of colonisation on Indigenous Australians and especially the scale of frontier warfare. Abbott’s perspective also feeds into the continuing culture war about Britain’s imperial past and polarised views about how to remember the Empire. As historian Stuart Ward recently noted, such debate is as old as imperialism itself.

Abbott begins with a rebuke to professional historians:

This is the book that never should have been needed. Until quite recently it was taken for granted that Australia was a country that all its citizens could take pride in, even the Aboriginal people, for whom the 1967 referendum marked full, if belated, acceptance into the Australian community.

His lifelong passion for history, he explains, was sparked by the Ladybird books, specifically the “adventures from history” series he read as a child. These narrated “great things done […] by great men and women”. He too tells his story in part through “key individuals”.

For Abbott, Australia has been a project characterised by “a consistent high-mindedness, a largeness of spirit or liberality” from its political leaders.

But Abbott’s Australia is narrowly conceived, excluding the perspectives of non-British cultures, women, and especially First Nations people. Abbott wants us to be proud of the achievements of men like him.

The Ladybird history of Australia?

Much of his account offers a very readable synthesis of mainstream historical research, and he acknowledges his research team, Andrew Kemp, Alex McDermott, Paddy O'Leary and Dom O’Leary, supported by the Institute of Public Affairs.

The first third of the book covers the 19th century, from “1788 and all that”, to the achievement of federation. But a series of omissions allows him to tell a story of linear progress from an “ancient” past to modernity, as signalled by the book’s tagline: “How an ancient land became a great democracy”.

Most glaring is his cartoonish depiction of First Nations culture, whose history he states is “now largely lost”, evident only through archaeological traces and colonial records. Citing anthropologist W.E.H. Stanner, Abbott characterises Aboriginality as “timeless”, reducing traditional life to a “tough existence”. He quotes from Robert Hughes’ 1986 blockbuster The Fatal Shore, which described “a ceaseless grubbing and chasing for subsistence foods”. This was a derogatory description, even for its time.

Abbott ignores the last half-century of scholarship, which has explored the richness and dynamism of First Nations life across the continent. He dismisses the survival of Indigenous traditions and knowledge into the present. In this way, First Nations cultures are relegated to a static primitivism, which has no place in a modern nation state.

He pays far more attention to British history, arguing that by the 1780s Britain had “become the world’s leading power and most enlightened country”. This is the first of many such claims to be “the best”. Again:

The Britain of the 1780s was […] at the forefront of the liberal enlightenment, of the development of private property rights, the growth of markets and the beginning of the anti-slavery crusade.

Yet praise for the anti-slavery movement is not matched by acknowledgement of Britain’s status as the world’s leading slave-trading nation during the years of its “enlightenment”. British slavery was only abolished in 1833 and thus was entangled with Australian colonisation for more than 50 years.

Such selectivity allows him to paint a rosy picture of the convict system. He adopts conservative historian John Hirst’s argument, focusing on the era of Governor Macquarie in Sydney, that convicts enjoyed relative freedom in colonial society. Hirst suggested that the independence granted to many convicts after emancipation was the foundation of democratic institutions and an egalitarian Australian ethos.

Abbott’s insistence that “convicts were not slaves”, and that “Sydney could hardly have been less like a slave colony” is sharply contradicted by contemporary evidence for the system’s brutality and heartbreak.

For example, as Bermuda-born Chief Justice of New South Wales Francis Forbes explained in 1825, Australian convicts were not proto-citizens. As a “West Indian” himself, he thought their assigned masters regarded them “precisely in the same way as a planter in the West Indies regards his slaves”.

Indeed, Macquarie and his first wife Jane, the daughter of a wealthy Antiguan slave-owner, bought “two young, smart slave Boys” as household servants while stationed in Bombay in 1795 and they came with his household to Sydney.

Thus Abbott argues for a “comparatively benign experience” for convicts sent to New South Wales. This is indeed the Ladybird view of history, omitting any darkness or complexity.

Abbott’s denial echoes former prime minister Scott Morrison’s June 2020 comments that “there was no slavery” in Australia’s history, which prompted heated responses from First Nations leaders.

The Australian Wars

Abbott and his research team have moved on from the “history wars” debate about frontier violence, acknowledging this now well-established history. However, Abbott’s account of colonialism remains a partial story.

Evidence for the rigorously researched Colonial Frontier Massacre Map, which records around 11,257 Aboriginal deaths between 1788 and 1930, is termed “guesstimates” by Abbott. Conflict, he writes, was a result of pastoral expansion and “the survival of the fittest”. But he challenges a view of “the expansion of settlement as only a series of ‘frontier wars’”.

Instead, Abbott suggests that conflict was tempered by the “indispensable” role of Aboriginal labour and local knowledge in the settling of Australia. Settlers’ children were cared for by “Aboriginal tribes”. Frontier warfare is construed as scattered episodes of “conflict” or “massacre”, rather than integral to the system of colonisation.

Later in his book, Abbott claims gun reform after the Port Arthur Massacre was relatively easy to accomplish because we lack an “entrenched gun culture”, due to “our relatively peaceful settlement”. Another new book shows otherwise.

The Australian Wars, following director and editor Rachel Perkins’ successful SBS documentary series, presents extensive research. The book’s editors, Perkins, Stephen Gapps, Mina Murray and Henry Reynolds, demonstrate that Indigenous nations resisted occupation of their lands “territory by territory”, as the frontier moved across the continent.

As Perkins explains, these were Australian Wars because combatants fought for “a way of life and sovereignty of a whole continent”.

Abbott’s is a Sydney-centric origin story, which also excludes the centuries-old regional engagement across the continent’s north. This is dismissed in a sentence as “a bit of canoe traffic around northern Queensland and some trepang trading with Indonesian fishermen”.

Western Australian readers will be surprised to hear that their state was also an offshoot of the convict system. Misleadingly, Abbott suggests Sydney emancipist Solomon Levey initiated the Swan River colony by providing the necessary capital. In fact, the drivers of western colonisation included imperial rivalry, trade and a desire for new products. Levey was just one of numerous private investors who saw a profit to be made from the continent’s first free colony. Freedom from the convict taint was a key selling point.

Abbott is on surer ground as he moves into the 20th century. He devotes the book’s middle third to the new nation’s “bold experiment” of democratic institutions, participation in two world wars and the Great Depression. In focusing on federal leadership and summarising the key events of Australian politics, Abbott and his team are at their best. The final third of the book spans the post-war “liberal revival” of the 1940s and 1950s to the Sydney Olympics in 2000.

As a political history, perhaps it is not surprising there are few if any “great women” in Abbott’s account. Nor that the impact of his “great men’s” policies upon others generally remains unexamined. Thus the idealistic, rights-informed vision for Aboriginal assimilation devised by Paul Hasluck, Menzies’ Minister for Territories, is fairly set out. Yet the impact of child removal upon Aboriginal families is downplayed.

There is no mention of the Stolen Generations, nor the landmark 1997 Bringing Them Home report – just an index entry for “Aboriginal Australians, removal of children from”.

Abbott’s bias toward his own side of politics is also to be expected. The 1975 Dismissal of Gough Whitlam by governor general Sir John Kerr, for example, is portrayed as the sensible democratic solution to political deadlock. Alternative views of this event are omitted, for example Jenny Hocking’s analysis of more than 200 palace letters between Kerr and the queen, revealing his prior consultation with the monarchy before he sacked Whitlam.

Linking past and present

As we approach the present, Abbott abandons his measured tone, celebrating the glory days of the Hawke–Howard era. The final chapter, titled “Drifting Backwards”, offers a counterweight to the boosterish tone of the rest of the book. Here, Abbott switches from history to lament the “cultural confusion” of our present moment.

Howard, he suggests, might be our “best-ever PM”, despite initiatives which later became “problematic”. These included a ban on introducing civil nuclear power, establishing renewable energy targets, environmental legislation “that gave green busy-bodies legal standing” and a commitment to “acknowledging Indigenous people in the Constitution”. Abbott’s own achievements were to stop the boats, repeal carbon and mining taxes, and “the biggest federal infrastructure spend in history”.

Abbott’s choice to end with the Voice referendum is significant. In his words, this was “the rejection of the proposed entrenchment in our nation’s Constitution of a new body chosen by Indigenous people only and comprising Indigenous people only but with a significant say over the government of all of us”.

Abbott’s characterisation is wrong. The October 2023 referendum asked voters to approve an alteration to the Australian constitution to recognise Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people by creating a “Voice” able to make representations to parliament on matters relating to First Nations peoples. While its final form was undecided, this body would have offered advice only.

For Abbott, this would have given First Nations people “a status and a say beyond that of everyone else”. Its rejection was a triumph for an “essentially colourblind” society.

But we do not live in an equal, “colourblind” society. Many inequalities in the present are the outcome of the structural nature of colonial violence, the Stolen Generations and Indigenous pain. Abbott’s partial history precludes recognition of these links.

In 1998, historian Mark McKenna noted in his parliamentary report, Different Perspectives on Black Armband History, there was broad agreement regarding “content” from both sides. Disagreement focused on “emphasis”. He suggested that, “As a people, we are trying to come to terms with the fact that ‘Australian’ history is no longer written purely from the perspective of the majority.”

Similarly, multiculturalism expert Andrew Jakubowicz argues democratic societies work on the basis of how much trust there is between people. Commenting on the two recent reports to the government by its envoys to combat antisemitism and Islamophobia, he noted that different communities need to recognise and respect “the sort of pain that the others have”.

In this sense, Abbott’s history of Australia returns us to the polarised “black armband” 1990s and the refusal to recognise others’ experience.

Abbott never spells out exactly why we should feel national pride. I assume on one level he sees it as the basis for unity. Nor does he question whether “pride” is necessarily an outcome of being “the best” or having a “good” history.

But when I talk to my students about the idea that we should judge our history as either “good” or “bad”, they are quick to challenge this approach. They see historical processes such as imperialism as complex, with diverse outcomes and perspectives.

For some of us, confronting our unequal past is no cause for shame or pessimism. On the contrary, truth telling and recognition of diverse views seem necessary for a united future.

Jane Lydon receives funding from the Australian Research Council.

‘Wog’ humour, tense US politics and real-world monsters: what to watch in November

2025-11-02T18:59:41Z

Netflix, 10play

As the year begins to wind down, and the days grow longer, our critics have a fresh slate of films and series to keep you glued to your screen.

This month’s streaming picks include a 90s “filmic time capsule”, some tense US political drama (refreshingly set in a non-Trumpian America), and the harrowing real-life story of child sex abuse at a Jewish school in Melbourne. There’s also some sharp, tender animation from the creator of Bojack Horseman.

Whether you’re chasing comfort, catharsis or a good cliffhanger, November’s streaming picks are sure to delight.

Surviving Malka Leifer

Stan

Surviving Malka Leifer, directed by Adam Kamien, centres the survivors of Leifer’s abuse. Sisters Nicole Meyer, Dassi Erlich and Elly Sapper reveal their trauma and claim their power through this film.

The sisters are interviewed alone and together and we see their video diaries. While the sisters recount their abuse, we are often taken into a constructed dollhouse, classroom and courtroom where the sisters are represented as tiny dolls. A spider moves about these constructed rooms – it appears enormous relative to the dolls.

Alongside Freya Berkhout’s haunting original music and the raw accounts of the documentary subjects, these devices heighten the sense of risk and vulnerability in the film. As we follow the chronology of the sisters’ campaign to bring Leifer to Australia, we become ever more engaged in their rising panic about whether she will face justice.

We learn about the sisters’ psychological torment, to the point of suicidality and hospitalisation. The delay in justice is central to the film’s narrative. The sisters’ trauma was compounded over their many years of campaigning and waiting.

Surviving Malka Leifer tells several important stories. We see how the perceived interests of an insular religious community are prioritised over the victims of sexual abuse. We see how legal processes, especially when protracted, re-traumatise victims and maintain their vulnerability as abusers pose counter-narratives before courts.

We also see three women who have persisted through unimaginable trauma in their campaign for justice. Their courage is breathtaking.

– Amy Maguire

The Diplomat, season three

Netflix

Season three of The Diplomat is back, with romance and comedy wrapped up in high politics. Star of the show, Keri Russell, is the United States ambassador in London and a possible candidate for the vice presidency. Instead she ends up as second lady, maintaining a trans-Atlantic marriage with her vice-president husband, the infuriating Hal Wyler (Rufus Sewell).

The program is infused with nostalgia for a pre-Trumpian world, symbolised by the ascension of President Grace Penn (Allison Janney) who, like her First Gentleman Todd Penn (Bradley Whitford), also starred in West Wing (1999-2006). That series, with its thoughtful and liberal president, represented a vision of politics which has now largely vanished in the US.

Meanwhile there is growing tension between the US and Britain, whose prime minister Nicol Trowbridge (Rory Kinnear) is a thug without charm. This tension dates back to an attack on a British naval vessel, in which the US was apparently involved. But if the exact reasons for it seem murky, it’s because the show moves at such a fast pace – and we are carried along as it features increasingly improbable romantic entanglements.

The Penn White House remains more attractive than its real-life counterpart. And President Penn doesn’t seem interested in demolishing part of the building.

– Dennis Altman

The Celebrity Traitors UK

ThreeNow (New Zealand) and 10 Play (Australia)

The British didn’t do The Traitors first, but they definitely do it the best. The reality show pits traitors against faithful in a social deduction game built on bluffs, double bluffs, “murders” and banishments – with a stack of money awaiting the winners.

The latest season, technically a spin-off, stars UK celebrities – and it’s really bloody good. As usual, there’s dramatic footage of the Scottish Highlands, the looming Adross castle, many extremely camp cutaways, some outrageous and well-produced outdoor missions, and host Claudia Winkleman stalking around in impeccable knitwear, whispering threats and encouragements in equal measure.

The winnings (apart from bragging rights) go to charity. Kudos to the casting director; this season’s lineup features national treasures such as Sir Stephen Fry and Jonathan Ross (dubbed the “big dogs” early on), as well as sporting stars, actors, singers, comedians, presenters and Gen Z celebs. They’re all thrown into scenarios that cut through carefully curated personas.

The season particularly excels at juxtaposing the gothic with absurdity. Where else would beloved actress Celia Imrie be caught out loudly stress-farting before a particularly gross challenge? It also plays with preexisting friendships and professional relationships in a sly fashion, as the cast struggle to play as strategically as “civilian” casts usually do.

You might tear your hair out at some people’s ability (or lack of) to figure out the show’s deceptions, but it all makes for impeccable viewing for old fans and newbies alike.

– Erin Harrington

Son of a Donkey

Netflix

Son of A Donkey, from the comedy duo Superwog (brothers Theodore and Nathan Saidden), tells the epic tale of Theo, his best friend Johnny, and Theo’s unnamed parents as Theo attempts to buy back his impounded car and to resolve his daddy issues once and for all.

Superwog are part of the third wave of wog humour. Here, their skewering of the vagaries of modern life leans more to the carnival of Pizza (2000–07) than the cosmopolitan ethos of Acropolis Now (1989–92). But the juxtaposition of classical music against some of the show’s more ridiculous scenes serves as a sly wink to its audience.

Its satire of an Epstein-esque sex island, conspiracy theorists, Jordan Peterson and the manosphere is at once ludicrous and needle-sharp. Even as they sink into a misogynist rabbit-hole, Johnny’s grandma is there to remind them who really is the boss in the ethnic family.

The main challenge for the Saidden brothers is to move from the disconnected episodic approach of Superwog to a cohesive narrative arc for Son of A Donkey. In this, they largely succeed, progressing the overarching story incrementally across the six episodes even as each has their own micro-misadventure.

Ultimately – despite flying shoes and rancid food – wog blood is thicker than water.

– Jess Carniel

Monster: The Ed Gein Story

Netflix

The Ed Gein Story is the third season of Ryan Murphy’s anthology series, Monster, an examination of violent killers at the centre of some of America’s most shocking crimes. This latest instalment follows the life and crimes of one of the most culturally impactful serial killers of the 20th century – a man who inspired the films Psycho (1960), The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) and The Silence of the Lambs (1991).

Perhaps most surprising, then, given Gein’s reputation, is the sensitivity and empathy shown to him in Murphy’s portrayal. In Monster, Gein is abused, downtrodden, soft-spoken, lonely and easily confused. His killings are (largely) unplanned – the result of bursts of anger. His desecration and mutilation of corpses is suggested to be a simultaneous function of his desire to bring his much-missed mother back to life, and to experiment with his own gender identity.

Murphy’s depiction is not limited to a reenactment of Gein’s crimes. It also looks at his influence on popular culture, via other serial killers who emulate his actions, as well as big-screen adaptations by directors such as Alfred Hitchcock.

But ultimately, as Monster would have it, it is we who are responsible for Gein’s celebrity. As Gein himself tells the viewer: “you’re the one who can’t look away”.

– Jessica Gildersleeve

Mother and Son, season two

ABC iView

Season two of Mother and Son, a beautiful remake of the original 1980s–90s Australian sitcom, is just as strong as the first. And luckily, viewers don’t need to have seen the original show in order to enjoy it. The latest season features significant character development, as well as some delightful gender and genre gear shifts that make for cutting-edge situational comedy.

There is not one weak link in the ensemble cast. Denise Scott, who plays the mother, Maggie, and Matt Okine, who plays her son Arthur, are one of the best pairings in recent comedy history. They are supported the most by Angela Nica Sullen, the “golden child” Robbie, and the lovely alternative parent/adult child pairing of Tony and Maya, played respectively by Ferdinand Hoang and Catherine Van-Davies.

The tension between comedy and accessibility – especially the looming “D word” (dementia) for Maggie, and Arthur’s social isolation – makes the story arc of each episode and the overall season quite compelling.

This season is a collection of dark, funny and thoughtful moments. And the stunning cameos from Jean Kittson and Virginia Gray are wonderful easter eggs for those with a deeper knowledge of Australian comedy.

– Liz Giuffre

House of Dynamite

Netflix

It’s Dr. Strangelove meets Rashomon in Kathryn Bigelow’s House of Dynamite. The film has blasted onto Netflix with 22.1 million views in the first three days.

It details the 39-minute countdown until a nuclear missile hits America’s mainland. The Pentagon has taken issue with the film over its claim that America’s missile defence system isn’t perfect, whereas screenwriter Noah Oppenheim stands by his research for the film. Oppenheim is, however, “glad” the Pentagon watched it – “or is watching and is paying attention to it, because this is exactly the conversation we want to have”.

The ensemble cast is stacked with Rebecca Ferguson, Anthony Ramos, Tracy Letts, Idris Elba, Gabriel Basso, Greta Lee, Kaitlyn Dever and Jared Harris all having great moments in the tense drama.

House of Dynamite has a Rashomon-style narrative, where the countdown is told three times over with new perspectives each time. In the first segment, Rebecca Ferguson holds a tense conference call where we hear the voices of Greta Lee and Idris Elba, and see Jared Harris and Gabriel Basso via a screen. In later segments, we see this countdown from their perspectives.

Some may find the handheld camera distracting, and the ending frustrating, but the film is nonetheless intense, with Bigelow never letting up the pressure. With its apolitical, hard-working staffers, it feels very at odds with the contemporary political climate. This seems a deliberate choice from Bigelow.

In the moment, several players realise that while they know they need to focus on their jobs, they have loved ones in the target city. Do they stop what they are doing and tell them they only have minutes left to live?

– Stuart Richards

Disclosure

Netflix

There is almost an unwritten rule that every great 1990s thriller must have Michael Douglas playing the scandal-prone leading man. Douglas doesn’t disappoint in Disclosure (1994). He pays Tom Sanders, a middle manager at the DigiCom computer company who is falsely accused of sexual harassment. Demi Moore is also at the height of her star power here playing Meredith Johnson, the young, predatory career woman who lies and cheats her way to the top.

However, it’s Donald Sutherland who really steals the show as Bob Garvin, the power-hungry director who gets a sadistic thrill from playing favourites among the staff, and promoting his sexy, surrogate “daughter” Meredith above more senior and meritorious colleagues.

There are many guilty pleasures in this 90s filmic time capsule. First, there is the nostalgic amusement of watching clunky, outdated technologies (answering machines! CD-ROMS!) being presented as contemporary or even cutting-edge. The film also features a deliciously melodramatic soundtrack and other neo-noir elements. The first image we have of Meredith Johnson (Demi Moore), for example, is a close shot of her black, killer high heels. When the camera pans up to her blood red lips and defiant stare, we are reminded of the old sexist stereotype of the manipulative “vamp”.

Like many other erotic thrillers of the 1990s (think Fatal Attraction) Disclosure offers the politically-conservative reaction against female power that feminist Susan Faludi famously described as the “backlash”. The film is certainly dated in its sexual politics. On the other hand, its subplot about economic recession, redundancies, ruined careers, competition and corruption remain relevant and very entertaining.

– Susan Hopkins

Long Story Short, season one

Netflix

Long Story Short is a quirky adult animation that oozes charm and heartfelt realness. The series centres on podcast scriptwriter and playlist creator, Avi Schwooper, a character based somewhat on the lived experiences of creator Raphael Bob-Waksberg, the mind behind BoJack Horseman (2014–2020).

In this first season, Long Story Short explores Avi’s everyday existence in California, negotiating his complex attachments to his parents, siblings, ex-wife, daughter, and his Jewish faith.

Episodes jump between various decades and generations up to the 2020s and routinely grapple with the absurd. Episode 6 (“Wolves”) satirises the public education system in the US via a bizarre lockdown situation, which occurs when wolves start roaming the halls of the middle school Avi’s daughter, Hannah, attends.

Episode 3 (“There’s a Mattress in There”) also stands out as affecting. It focuses on Avi’s neurodivergent brother, Yoshi, on a quest to prove himself equal to his siblings, only to be undone by unscrupulous capitalists.

Visually speaking, the series has a groovy colour palette reminiscent of vintage storybooks, and a distinctive hand-drawn aesthetic. Each figure is both exaggerated yet realistic in a way that avoids slipping into caricature thanks to the influence of designer and supervising producer Lisa Hanawalt.

There are some strong, resonant themes around family, memory, selfhood and generational continuity. It is funny, yet achingly sad – a bit like life, really.

– Phoebe Hart

Amy Maguire receives funding from the Australian Research Council.

Jess Carniel received funding from the Army History Unit for her research into wog history.

Dennis Altman, Erin Harrington, Jessica Gildersleeve, Liz Giuffre, Phoebe Hart, Stuart Richards, and Susan Hopkins do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

A stage adaptation of Dying: A Memoir asks the big questions about death – but ends up strangely unmoving

2025-10-31T03:12:58Z

Pia Johnson/Melbourne Theatre Company

What makes a good death? Quietly surrounded by friends and family or going out in a flash of blazing glory (whatever that means)?

Would you like to know when you’re going to die?

Will knowing when you die help you to appreciate all the small finalities – the last time you drive a car, the last touch of grass on your fingertips, the last time you feel your partner’s breath on your cheek, a final kiss on the lips?

Or do these small closures matter at all when looking backwards is a distraction from “the great unknown” that lies ahead?

Do you deserve the right to choose when you die?

Author Cory Taylor was confronted with these questions when diagnosed with melanoma after a biopsy of a mole on the back of her right leg. She was just about to turn 50.

Death in modern Western society exists in a peculiar limbo – simultaneously sanitised and sensationalised. We’ve outsourced dying to hospitals, nursing homes and palliative care units, creating physical and emotional distance that leaves too many people unprepared for when loss arrives.

In her 2016 book Dying: A Memoir, published just months before her death, Taylor writes:

For this is one of the most lamentable consequences of our reluctance to talk about death. We have lost our common rituals and our common language for dying, and must either improvise, or fall back on traditions about which we feel deeply ambivalent.

Taylor exposes the cost of our cultural avoidance: by refusing to engage meaningfully with mortality, Western society has left individuals to face death’s deepest questions in isolation.

Playwright Benjamin Law brings Dying: A Memoir to the stage in a one-woman show starring Genevieve Morris, directed by Jean Tong for Melbourne Theatre Company.

Immediate intimacy

Morris gives a commanding performance. She brings a formidable presence to her portrayal of Taylor and fluidly inhabits a range of characters in Taylor’s world: doctors, siblings and acquaintances connected to Exit International, a support and advocacy group for voluntary euthanasia.

Tong’s direction creates immediate intimacy with the audience. Morris begins out of character, gently acknowledging the difficulty of discussing death while honouring Taylor, before the performance proper begins. This connection with her audience is strengthened across the show.

Set and costume design (James Lew), lighting design (Rachel Lee) and sound design (Darius Kedros) all function to support Morris’ delivery, its constant movement and fluidity.

James Lew’s set design features red theatre chairs which are rearranged into various configurations. Pia Johnson/Melbourne Theatre Company

Red theatre chairs on wheels form the main set piece, which Morris rearranges into various configurations. The surrounding black walls feature small reveals and cracks of light that reflect thematic shifts.

The sound design anchors each scene with precision: the hum of a doctor’s waiting room, the noise and clatter of a restaurant, the clinical quiet of a psychologist’s office. Mostly understated, it punctuates key moments with purposeful intensity, working to mark emotional shifts.

Oppressive lighting pervades the production, its unrelenting bleakness mirroring the subject matter too literally. The lack of variation or contrast flattens what could be a more visually complex exploration of its themes.

Evading the emotionally complex

Law’s persistent examination of the end of Taylor’s life within his adaptation reveals an evasion of the book’s more emotionally complex and spiritually challenging entanglements.

Taylor’s memoir spans three interconnected acts; Law’s adaptation fixates primarily on the first, circling questions about euthanasia and the right to a “good death” in ways that lean into and recapitulate parts of popular debate.

Acts two and three of Taylor’s memoir overflow with childhood recollections – vivid, nostalgic landscapes painted through thick descriptive prose and family memory. These sections reflect closely the relationship with her mother and father, giving rise to questions of: where do we come from? What is home? How are we formed and by who?

Taylor’s memoir spans three interconnected acts; Law’s adaptation fixates primarily on the first. Pia Johnson/Melbourne Theatre Company

This complex and poetic examination of life is excised from Law’s play. But, for his part, he manages to embed his signature biting wit while telling Taylor’s story.

On the frustrations of managing one’s final affairs, and specifically password retrieval, Morris turns to the audience and flatly delivers the line: “If cancer doesn’t kill me, two factor authentication will.”

The situation with an over-enthusiastic therapist is described as a “government-subsidized hostage situation”.

These moments of searing humour help make the story feel fresh and grounded.

However, Law chooses didacticism to end the play as Morris steps out of character again. The choice drains the production of Taylor’s sharp intelligence and emotional depth, leaving the audience instructed rather than stirred. Despite a chorus of sniffles amongst the audience, the ending is strangely unmoving.

It avoids the mess and the grit that fascinates Taylor in composing her memoir. She quotes T.S. Eliot:

In my beginning is my end
Old fires to ash, and ashes to the earth
Which is already flesh, fur and faeces
Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and leaf

The kind of raw and unflinching acceptance of death’s physical reality that inspired Taylor is upended in favour of what is, sadly, a little too sterile and neat.

Dying: A Memoir is at Melbourne Theatre Company until November 29.

Jonathan Graffam-O’Meara 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.

Spiders inspired biologists to create artificial webs to capture airborne DNA for biodiversity monitoring

2025-10-31T01:03:05Z

Getty Images

The global crisis of diminishing biological diversity is challenging our current ability to monitor changes in ecosystems.

Environmental DNA, or eDNA, has become a popular method. It involves taking a sample from the environment and extracting the DNA to document the species that are (or were recently) present.

Just like matching barcodes to an item’s price at the supermarket, eDNA data are matched to a corresponding identification record in a reference database.

But most eDNA sampling takes place in water, passing litres of liquid through a filter that retains DNA fragments for analysis. This method works very well for freshwater and marine species, but less so on land.

Enter airborne DNA, or airDNA, an emerging method not yet optimised for widespread commercial applications but with great promise for capturing signals of land-based biodiversity.

Researchers have been exploring the question of whether natural spiderwebs could be used to collect DNA, but our research takes this a step further.

Artificial spiderwebs are as good as natural spiderwebs at capturing DNA from the air. Authors provided, CC BY-ND

Inspired by a bit of Halloween decoration, we designed artificial spiderwebs to see if they are as good as the real thing in capturing airborne DNA. Our data show artificial spiderwebs performed similarly to real spiderwebs in detecting land-dwelling species.

History of DNA capture

eDNA has been used to monitor changes in biodiversity, detect new species and evaluate the success of restoration or eradication projects. It is easy to use, cheap and non-invasive, and is now being deployed by citizen scientists, community groups and mana whenua.

But species living mostly on land – mammals, birds, bats, reptiles, insects – are less well detected by this method.

One of the first studies to showcase the potential of methods to analyse airborne DNA vacuumed air at a zoological park in Huntingdonshire (United Kingdom). It picked up DNA from 17 of the resident land species, including black and white lemurs, howler monkeys, sloths and tigers, as well as their food items and other mammals and birds.

This stimulated further research, including into the use of cheaper, passive methods of airDNA collection that rely on the settling of air onto inert biofilters. A recent study explored whether natural spiderwebs might provide a new way to capture traces of vertebrate DNA from the environment.

This work sparked excitement among researchers, who immediately saw the potential of spiderwebs to provide aerosol DNA alongside DNA derived from the spiders themselves and their recent prey.

We shared the general excitement of our colleagues but couldn’t help but wonder about the potential negative impacts of this methods’ widespread use on spiders. Spiders are already on the receiving end of bad press, but they have important roles in the ecosystem as nature’s pest and disease control agents. They eat about 800 million tonnes of insects annually across the globe.

Using natural webs is also less robust, as their size and shape, and how long and where they are deployed, are left to chance.

How do artificial webs perform?

In comparison to water eDNA methods, both types of spiderwebs in our research revealed a distinct signature of terrestrial communities. But they were also good biofilters for capturing fungi, possibly by trapping floating fungal spores.

The ecosystem picture drawn from both types of webs compared to water eDNA also shows these methods are likely complementary, capturing a more complete catalogue of species in both terrestrial and aquatic ecosystems.

This is great news: artificial spiderwebs are easy and cheap to construct and provide better control over location, frequency and duration of DNA collection – all at a reduced cost to nature.

Where to from here? Further refinements are on the way. Outstanding questions include how many artificial spiderwebs we need to sufficiently capture biodiversity, whether these webs will perform better or worse in windy or wet conditions, and whether other materials besides Halloween decorations could provide an even better artificial web.

As we continue to explore such questions, perhaps nature’s weavers will provide further inspiration that helps us fashion even better biomechanic solutions for measuring biodiversity.

Ang McGaughran has received funding from the Royal Society of New Zealand, from the MBIE Smart Ideas funding programme, and from Genomics Aotearoa.

Manpreet K Dhami receives funding from the Ministry for Business, Innovation and Employment (Smart Ideas, Endeavour, SSIF, Envirolink), the Royal Society of New Zealand (Marsden, Mana Tuanuku Research Leader Fellowship, Catalyst), National Science Challenge BioHeritage and Genomics Aotearoa.

Friday essay: Jon Faine on why our social cohesion should not be taken for granted

2025-10-30T19:10:13Z

Social cohesion is in decline. This has become a common refrain, along with despair about a crisis in our democracy. Yet amid the platitudes and wishful thinking about reversing that trend, there is a glaring absence of strategy or urgency.

At different stages of our history, social cohesion has meant different things. It is an elastic term. Today, it is built on values of inclusion, harmony, respect, equality, fairness and, particularly, multiculturalism. But it has not always been thus.

There was a time not so long ago when maintaining the White Australia policy was claimed to be essential to maintain social cohesion. What was then widely accepted as Australia’s “natural” order was threatened by anyone with dark skin or Asian heritage.

Today it is the reverse: the threat to social cohesion comes from neo-Nazis targeting Asians, First Nations and other dark-skinned people. So let us not be oblivious to how value-laden the term is.

Australia has seen racism since Captain Cook stepped ashore. We would be naive to think it will not continue to show its ugly side.

When white settlers first arrived, whether in chains or not, hostility to Indigenous people was unexceptional: they were regarded as savages and dismissed as a dying race. When free settlers started to arrive, the English colonists made life tough for the Scots, who were fleeing the clearance of the Highlands by absentee landlords. Then the English and Scots together were unhappy about the arrival of large numbers of Irish – survivors of the potato famine.

Then they all banded together against Chinese gold miners. Then the same happened to every other wave of migrants or refugees – persecuted Lutherans, Jews from displaced persons camps after the Holocaust, then the Italians, Greeks, Turks, Vietnamese, Lebanese, and so on, through to today’s punching bag, people from Africa.

We cannot wish racism away. But neither should we shrug, accept it, and minimise the instances and impact of it

A healthy scepticism

While calling for urgency, and avoiding complacency, let us maintain a healthy scepticism about some of the wilder predictions of the imminent collapse of our political and social fabric.

Confident assertions of democratic disenchantment, of democracy being replaced in the wealthy West with some form of authoritarianism or dictatorship seem hysterical.

There is a bookshelf full of recent government reviews, departmental reports, commissions of inquiry, anxious submissions, newspaper opinion pieces and occasionally rabid radio and television commentary bemoaning a decline in social cohesion.

Covid and years of disruption have stressed our community economically, politically and socially. Globalisation and the uneven distribution of wealth, in particular inter-generational inequality, are stubborn challenges that governments struggle to solve.

The barbaric Hamas attacks on Israel two years ago, the resultant Gaza war, the appalling number of civilian casualties and displacement of the Palestinian people have triggered huge and persistent protests that have stress-tested communities here and around the world. May the fragile peace agreement be sustained.

These are not just economic and political challenges, but emotionally complex trials for many of us. They require deep understanding, and a willingness and capacity to balance competing interests and rights.

Sadly, nuance is often lost in this age of performative politics. Bumper-sticker slogans replace meaningful debate, resulting in rapidly growing polarisation.

We have had episodic polarisation before – the Vietnam War era in particular, and the division in 1951 when Robert Menzies tried to outlaw communism.

But Australia has been, and continues to be, remarkably resilient. We score highly on every measure of livability, accountability, democratic functionality and multiculturalism. Our social fabric, while far from perfect, ought to be recognised for what has been achieved. It should not be underappreciated.

Overdue maintenance

The fragile machinery of democracy needs some long overdue maintenance, some lubrication to keep the social compact moving. Social cohesion needs a makeover.

Opponents of multiculturalism gleefully pounce on any sign of stress or tension, any evidence at all of wrongdoing by “ethnics”, to claim that migration and multiculturalism are failed projects to be abandoned, consigned to history.

It is absurd to claim that multiculturalism as a policy is failing. Just look around any town or city in Australia today – any school, creative or cultural organisation, sporting code or contest or public or private sector workplace – and the reality of a remarkably cohesive Australia is on show.

But that narrative of negativity about the supposed failings of multiculturalism could become self-fulfilling. Some of the criticism is designed to trigger a loss of confidence. The more we wallow in pessimism, the more likely it will infect the public square.

The worst attacks on our social fabric have been shown to be orchestrated, contrived – deliberately staged – to unsettle and stress test our society. Russian intelligence interests have been proven to have interfered with free elections throughout the European Union, in former Soviet satellite states, their neighbours and even, notoriously, in the United States.

Iranian intelligence agencies hired petty criminals to commit the fire bombing of a synagogue in Melbourne and to also stage multiple antisemitic attacks in Sydney. The same happened in France, Canada and elsewhere.

Cyber-attacks traced to North Korea, China’s proxy, have targeted many nations and businesses, across the globe. Leading intelligence agencies in the United Kingdom, France, Germany and Australia caution that we are in an undeclared war.

Sir David Omand, former UK security and counter-terrorism chief, writing in The Economist warned that strengthening

social cohesion in the face of extremist violence is not only a noble aspiration but a security imperative. If communities feel unsafe in their own neighbourhoods, if children have to hide in synagogues or mosques in terror, if worshippers are murdered at prayer, the social contract is seen to fracture. The very possibility of living together in mutual respect is called into question.

These bad actors – corrupt autocrats and dictators – want to undermine the Western democratic project for several concurrent reasons. They aim to weaken the West economically, strategically and culturally. They want to preserve their own privilege and massive wealth, and they also want to suppress internal activism for democratic reform.

The democracy vandals amplify contrived troubles in the wealthy West to assure their own citizens agitating for democratic change that, in the West, we live in fear and chaos. I recommend Autocracy Inc: The Dictators Who Want to Run The World by Anne Applebaum.

Much of our democratic backsliding is thus not a coincidence. It is not home grown, nor is it evidence of widespread grassroots rebellion. It is manipulated and orchestrated.

Neo-Nazis marching down Melbourne streets in the early hours of the morning and then attacking a First Nations camp are undoubtedly getting some outside tutelage. A few fringe cosplay fascists have popped up from time to time for years, but their sudden visibility and growth suggests to me that they are getting external funding and support.

The fascists who organised last year’s riots in the UK were not working in isolation. The inquiry after the riots established many details. Police were attacked, buildings and vehicles were burned, graves desecrated, a hotel where asylum seekers were being housed was torched with people inside. Ugly mobs churned through multiple cities at the same time. 1,280 people were arrested and 796 were charged. Of the 94 rioters arrested in connection with the hotel riot, 80 had prior convictions and 20% were under 18, recruited and targeted through social media.

Their self-appointed leader, with the stage name “Tommy Robinson”, is a serial offender called Stephen Yaxley-Lennon. He has a rap sheet of violent assault, fraud, using a fake passport and contempt of court. Despite that, he is supported by Elon Musk, the richest person in the world.

Tommy Robinson and his supporters are wholesale peddlers of conspiracy theories on social media. They have exploited the dropping of guard rails by the tech barons – who did so at the behest of no less a figure than the president of the US, no stranger to inciting a riot himself.

We know that social media thrives on conflict and polarisation. Conspiracy theories and misinformation are weaponised to achieve political and commercial ends. Amplifying outrage is a tactic, a strategy, and it means that small numbers of supporters appear to be a bigger threat to our social cohesion than they actually are.

Decisions by social media platforms to reduce moderation have increased their capacity to promote the extremism of both the left and right. The extremists need each other – violence at one extreme justifies violence at the other.

Balance and fact-checking are no match for mis- and disinformation. It is an ancient adage in journalism that “a lie has gone around the world before the truth gets out of bed”. Online hate speech inciting racism is largely unregulated. Resolving how to do so and to make the AI revolution serve humanity, and not just the tech titans, is the battle that will define our times.

The platform operators, who have amassed the greatest fortunes in the history of capitalism, laughably say they cannot afford to monitor or regulate their own products to make them safe.

Imagine if Ford or General Motors said they can’t be expected to be responsible for making cars safe, but instead it is individual drivers who should be responsible for vehicle safety. Or if food suppliers said they had no role in preventing poisoning, instead it is up to consumers to be wary of what they buy and eat.

Unarguably, those who have been enriched beyond even their wildest dreams by the new tech simply must be forced to make their platforms safe.

Less talk, more action

But I am wandering from my topic. Having cautioned against all this doom and gloom, and having described a scenario that is almost dystopian, there is still cause for optimism. Why? Because social cohesion is kryptonite to bad actors. We are resilient and will continue to be so.

Adjust the frame to see it through an economic lens. A federal government inquiry in 2024, Strengthening Australian Democracy, described social cohesion as a national asset. So why do we spend so little effort – and money – in protecting it?

Capital needs trust – trust in the rule of law, democratic elections and domestic harmony. French economist Thomas Piketty – who writes books many of us buy but hardly anyone reads – has earned global recognition for explaining this, and also explaining how the strongest economies are the most equal, how democracy and social cohesion are bolstered by lower inequality.

We laud those who invest in economic or engineering infrastructure, or who punt billions on new technology, or an innovative business model. But we do not do nearly enough to protect what underpins it all – social cohesion.

Instead of more hand wringing, what should we do about it? Less talk, more action. Here are some fundamentals.

If you want respect, you also must give respect. If you expect someone to listen to you, you have to listen to them.

It is easy to hate someone if you never meet them. It is difficult to maintain prejudice against people once you break bread.

The best way to fight an idea is with better ideas, not censorship. The best way to win an argument is with a better argument, not to cancel someone.

It is as futile to merely dictate that “social cohesion must improve”, as it is to demand that people stop committing crimes, or lose weight. It is a fraud on the populace to present the challenge as being simple. It requires nuance, funding and, more than anything else, leadership, not platitudes and sound bites.

To restore the public square and the capacity to respectfully disagree – to steer people away from the extremes – it is vital to avoid hollowing out of the centre.

Some practical suggestions

Here are a few practical suggestions, achievable and sustainable.

Banish the use of “tolerance” from the lingo of multiculturalism. I don’t want anyone to say they tolerate me. It’s like saying, through gritted teeth, “I’ll hold my nose and somehow manage to put up with you” – a kind of backhander. More significantly, it betrays an attitude of cultural superiority: “My mob will tolerate you, on our terms.” Instead, can we be respectful and inclusive.

We also need to be honest that the politics of multiculturalism has often become a contest between ethnic power blocs over who gets a dollop of taxpayer money shovelled their way – often to buttress ethnic votes in marginal electorates. Social cohesion is not improved by cynical power brokers treating ethnicity as a branch-stacking weapon against their factional enemies and political opponents.

Next, stop fragmenting the battle against racism. In 2024, Prime Minister Anthony Albanese appointed both an antisemitism and an Islamophobia envoy. It backfired. Elevating those two hatreds above all others is counterproductive and increases division instead of bringing everyone closer together. Instead, simply give the existing bodies like the Australian Human Rights Commission the funds to better perform what is already their job – the urgent task of tackling entrenched racism.

April 2024 saw the release of a federal government Multiculturalism Framework Review, with 29 recommendations. It sank without trace, even though we have the most diverse parliament in our history. Almost nobody outside of the multicultural elite took any notice whatsoever. I suspect the government was quietly pleased.

What we need is a social cohesion strategy, adopted by national, state and local governments, working together to re-imagine what we can be. Such a strategy will invest in strengthening engagement, countering isolation and breaking down barriers to inter-communal activities wherever they are. It should be seamlessly interwoven into the fabric of our daily life, for city and rural communities, inner and outer suburbs, not just the already multicultural active.

Instead of talking about the need for greater cohesion, we need to do things that are more cohesive in their essence. This is no less important than a housing strategy, a “red tape” strategy, a health strategy, or any other area of civic life.

Research commissioned by the Australian Bicentennial Authority nearly 40 years ago found that of all the indicators measuring strength in a democracy, the strongest democracies globally also have the highest number of choirs. A choir is the very embodiment of cooperation between disparate individuals. If you do not work together, it sounds something like the Collingwood cheer squad.

I am not suggesting compulsory choir attendance, but it is instructive. Small grants can subsidise community music festivals, food festivals, grassroots sport, street parties, school events ranging from fetes to excursions. Governments should offer underwriting of insurance and other compliance costs that have become insurmountable barriers. State government insurers should underwrite the risks to save small community groups huge costs and bureaucracy.

Volunteers need tax concessions as incentives, to offset the actual cost of volunteering. Transport, uniforms, training are all barriers that lead to a decline in participation.

We must better use school and church infrastructure after hours as active community hubs, integrated with community houses and men’s sheds, among others. Tax exempt and government assisted private schools and religious institutions must open their gates to the wider community. We who contribute to their funding are shut out of their sometimes extravagant facilities. This is their social licence at work.

Even small and easy programs like first-aid training, English language classes for those newly arrived, homework clubs where retirees assist struggling students with their learning, RUOK days, new parent groups offering support at such a stressful time – so many good initiatives, more common in small country towns, have withered in our suburbs.

Tellingly, this is already happening overseas. In the US, grassroots community organisations are mobilising as a countermeasure to the crisis in their democracy.

A poll in 2021 found that only 20% of young Japanese agree that society can be changed by their own actions. Voter turnout for under 20s in the last election was 10% lower than the overall voter turnout. Similar disconnection was seen in the UK.

Polling on campuses in the US reveals a growing belief that it is ok to use violence to stop someone expressing an opinion you do not agree with. It is beyond polarisation when disagreement is equated with evil. When everything is performative, pushed to extremes, threats and then violence can be normalised.

We do not need to reinvent the wheel. Look at Irish citizen assemblies, and how citizens in Portugal, Finland and Taiwan are localising again, decentralising and innovating in the ways their political class engage with their citizens.

Local government, once a vital organ for community building, is now struggling with rate caps and cost blowouts. It is always easier for them to cut community programs, rather than chop direct service delivery of child care, meals for the elderly or disability services.

Progressives should also swallow hard and embrace patriotism. Not a jingoistic version, but an authentic pride in our contemporary national project. There is no contradiction between patriotism and diversity. We must deprive the ultra nationalist proto-fascists of their claim to a monopoly on a love of country.

Some of those most passionately protective of the modern project of contemporary Australia are the newly arrived. Anyone who has been to a citizenship ceremony will know how profoundly emotional a day it is. To let the ultra-nationalist racist right characterise the people we used to call “new Australians” as aliens is to surrender the terms of the argument. It denies the reality of daily life and entrenches a “them” and “us” duality that is an absolute fiction.

Forging a shared identity that celebrates diversity is the only reality for contemporary Australia. We are one, but we are many. This is not new, but progressives must lose the cringe, the embarrassment about patriotism.

In a Gallup Poll in 1958, just 4% of Americans approved of mixed-race marriages. The figure today is over 90%. Attitudes can change, but sometimes it takes longer than we want. We can improve our social cohesion, with strong leadership and a clear vision based on shared values.

Change does not just happen automatically; progress is not inevitable. It happens because we make it happen. We all have a part to play.

This is an edited version of a keynote speech given at the Scanlon Foundation Research Institute Social Cohesion Summit In October.

Jon Faine is a member of the Board of Museums Victoria which includes Melbourne Immigration Museum in its portfolio. Being a director of Museums Victoria is a voluntary position, appointed by the state government.

How a ‘sewer socialism’ revival could see Zohran Mamdani become New York’s next mayor

2025-10-28T18:02:41Z

Andres Kudacki/Getty Images

Democratic candidate for mayor of New York City Zohran Mamdani looks increasingly like the one to beat at next week’s election. But he is up against more than the usual political challenges.

US President Donald Trump has referred to him as “my little communist” and called his nomination “a rebellion”. More recently there have been calls for Mamdani’s citizenship to be investigated.

Born in Uganda, and the first Muslim nominee for mayor of the biggest city in the US, the 34-year-old Mamdani is an obvious target. But it is his stance as a democratic socialist that has really invited the old-school “red-baiting”, aimed at discrediting him by invoking Cold War anxieties.

In fact, Mamdani’s approach to democratic socialism is less about an abstract political ideology than it is about practical solutions. As he has put it:

We want to showcase our ideals, not by lecturing people about how correct we are, but rather by delivering and letting that delivery be the argument itself.

Because of this, he has also been described as an heir to the historical tradition of “sewer socialism”, a brand of left-wing thinking that favoured incremental, practical reform over revolutionary rhetoric.

Delivering tangible results

Despite the long history of anticommunism in the United States, Milwaukee in Wisconsin was the nation’s socialist capital for decades.

A succession of socialist mayors focused on delivering basic services to the people of the city. Socialist candidates dominated city politics there for 50 years, from 1910 to 1960. It was the most successful political achievement for socialism in US history, largely because it appealed to the mainly German immigrant population.

The term “sewer socialist” was actually first used derisively by Morris Hillquit, national chairman of the Socialist Party, who ran unsuccessfully for mayor of New York several times.

At the 1932 party convention in Milwaukee, Hillquit was almost replaced as leader by local mayor Daniel Hoan. Mayor from 1916 to 1940, Hoan was justifiably proud of the city-owned sewer system. But he also established one of the first public bus systems in America, and built the country’s first public housing project.

This repeated success in city politics – despite the national opposition to socialism and Hillquitt’s “sewer socialist” slight – was built on delivering tangible results to the voters.

And it’s that approach that is seeing sewer socialism making a comeback in city politics today, as urban dwellers face an affordability crisis and declining quality of life.

Mamdani is not the only millennial socialist candidate running for mayor.

In Seattle, over on the US west coast, 43-year-old Katie Wilson is a strong contender in a tight race with the incumbent mayor, 67-year-old Bruce Harell. Wilson is the founder of the local Transit Riders Union and has expanded her progressive activism to social housing, public safety and homelessness.

She doesn’t see the socialist label as a major issue on the campaign:

I’m a socialist. I’m fine being called a democratic socialist […] We’re in a moment where most people don’t care that much. People are not that hung up on labels and want to see results on issues that affect their daily lives.

Beautiful, contradictory, unfinished

Like Wilson, Mamdani lacks the experience of his opponent, former New York governor Andrew Cuomo (67).

Cuomo played on this in the final debate of the campaign, telling the young challenger, “the issue is your lack of experience”.

Mamdani replied that his opponents “speak only in the past because that is all they know”.

Perhaps inevitably, some are saying Mamdani’s ability to connect with voters not only promises to deliver an improved quality of city life, but may also make him a viable presidential candidate who could “save” the Democratic Party in 2028.

Speaking on the 4th of July, Mamdani said: “America is beautiful, contradictory, unfinished, I am proud of our country even as we constantly strive to make it better.”

Vice President JD Vance responded the next day: “There is no gratitude here […] We should demand that our people, whether first or tenth generation Americans, have gratitude for this country.”

Intended as an insult, Vance also accurately described Mamdani’s surprise win in the primary: “Last week, a 33-year-old communist running an insurgent campaign beat a multi-million-dollar establishment machine…”.

But it might have been Fiorello La Guardia, mayor of New York during the Depression, who best described how such a turnaround could have happened: “There is no Republican or Democratic way to pick up the garbage.”

In other words, basic municipal services don’t depend on party politics. And if neither major party cares enough about those essential quality of life issues to actually deliver, maybe a younger “sewer socialist” will be the one to pick up the trash.

Garritt C. Van Dyk has received funding from the Getty Research Institute.

New discovery reveals chimpanzees in Uganda use flying insects to tend their wounds

2025-10-27T14:29:31Z

Animals respond to injury in many ways. So far, evidence for animals tending wounds with biologically active materials is rare. Yet, a recent study of an orangutan treating a wound with a medicinal plant provides a promising lead.

Chimpanzees, for example, are known to lick their wounds and sometimes press leaves onto them, but these behaviours are still only partly understood. We still do not know how often these actions occur, whether they are deliberate, or how inventive chimpanzees can be when responding to wounds.

Recent field observations in Uganda, east Africa, are now revealing intriguing insights into how these animals cope with wounds.

As a primatologist, I am fascinated by the cognitive and social lives of chimpanzees, and by what sickness-related behaviours can reveal about the evolutionary origins of care and empathy in people. Chimpanzees are among our closest living relatives, and we can learn so much about ourselves through understanding them.

In our research based in Kibale National Park, Uganda, chimpanzees have been seen applying insects to their own open wounds on five occasions, and in one case to another individual.

Behaviours like insect application show that chimpanzees are not passive when wounded. They experiment with their environment, sometimes alone and occasionally with others. While we should not jump too quickly to call this “medicine”, it does show that they are capable of responding to wounds in inventive and sometimes cooperative ways.

Each new insight adds reveals more about chimpanzees, offering glimpses into the shared evolutionary roots of our own responses to injury and caregiving instincts.

First catch your insect

We saw the insect applications by chance while observing and recording their behaviour in the forest, but paid special attention to chimpanzees with open wounds.

Insect application by subadult Damien.

In all observed cases, the sequence of actions seemed deliberate. A chimpanzee caught an unidentified flying insect, immobilised it between lips or fingers, and pressed it directly onto an open wound. The same insect was sometimes reapplied several times, occasionally after being held briefly in the mouth, before being discarded. Other chimpanzees occasionally watched the process closely, seemingly with curiosity.

Most often the behaviour was directed at the chimpanzee’s own open wound. However, in one rare instance, an adolescent female applied an insect to her brother’s wound. A study on the same community has shown that chimpanzees also dab the wounds of unrelated members with leaves, prompting the question of whether insect application of these chimpanzees, too, might extend beyond family members. Acts of care, whether directed towards family or others, can reveal the early foundations of empathy and cooperation.

The observed sequence closely resembles the insect applications seen in Central chimpanzees in Gabon, Africa. The similarity suggests that insect application may represent a more widespread behaviour performed by chimpanzee than previously recognised.

The finding from Kibale National Park broadens our view of how chimpanzees respond to wounds. Rather than leaving wounds unattended, they sometimes act in ways that appear deliberate and targeted.

Chimpanzee first aid?

The obvious question is what function this behaviour might serve. We know that chimpanzees deliberately use plants in ways that can improve their health: swallowing rough leaves that help expel intestinal parasites or chewing bitter shoots with possible anti-parasitic effects.

Insects, however, are a different matter. Pressing insects onto wounds has not yet been shown to speed up healing or reduce infection. Many insects do produce antimicrobial or anti-inflammatory substances, so the possibility is there, but scientific testing is still needed.

For now, what we can say is that the behaviour appears to be targeted, patterned and deliberate. The single case of an insect being applied to another individual is especially intriguing. Chimpanzees are highly social animals, but active helping is relatively rare. Alongside well-known behaviours such as grooming, food sharing, and support in fights, applying an insect to a sibling’s wound hints at another form of care, one that goes beyond maintaining relationships to possibly improving the other’s physical condition.

Big questions

This behaviour leaves us with some big questions. If insect application proves medicative, it could explain why chimpanzees do it. This in turn raises the question of how the behaviour arises in the first place: do chimpanzees learn it by observing others, or does it emerge more spontaneously? From there arises the question of selectivity – are they choosing particular flying insects, and if so, do others in the group learn to select the same ones?

In human traditional medicine (entomotherapy), flying insects such as honeybees and blowflies are valued for their antimicrobial or anti-inflammatory effects. Whether the insects applied by chimpanzees provide similar benefits is still to be investigated.

Finally, if chimpanzees are indeed applying insects with medicinal value and sometimes placing them on the wounds of others, this could represent active helping and even prosocial behaviour. (The term is used to describe behaviours that benefit others rather than the individual performing them.)

Watching chimpanzees in Kibale National Park immobilise a flying insect and gently press it onto an open wound reminds us how much there is still to learn about their abilities. It also adds to the growing evidence that the roots of care and healing behaviours extend much further back in evolutionary time.

If insect applications prove to be medicinal, this adds to the importance of safeguarding chimpanzees and their habitats. In turn, these habitats protect the insects that can contribute to chimpanzee well-being.

Kayla Kolff received funding from the German Research Foundation (DFG), project number 274877981 (GRK-2185/1: DFG Research Training Group Situated Cognition).

A rushed new maths curriculum doesn’t add up. The right answer is more time

2025-10-26T23:25:03Z

Getty Images

If the recent news of a new mathematics and statistics curriculum for years 0–10 felt familiar, that’s because it was.

In term four last year, the Ministry of Education released a previous new maths (and English) curriculum for Years 0–8, to be implemented from term one this year.

Schools must use the latest new curriculum from term one next year. This will be the third curriculum for primary and intermediate schools in less than three years.

Despite claims that the most recent curriculum is only an “update”, the changes are bigger than teachers might have expected.

The new curriculum is more difficult and more full. There is now a longer list of maths procedures and vocabulary to be memorised at each year of school.

For example, year 3 children should learn there are 366 days in a leap year and that leap years happen every four years. Year 5 students should know what acute, obtuse and reflex angles are.

Some concepts have been moved into earlier years. Year 6 children will learn calculations with rational numbers (such as “75% is 24, find the whole amount”), whereas previously this would have been taught at year 8. (If you’re wondering, the whole amount is 32.)

Cubes and cube roots have been moved a year earlier. A lot of statistics, a traditional area of strength for New Zealand in international tests, has been stripped out.

Much of the “effective maths teaching” material about clearly explaining concepts and planning for challenging problem solving has been removed. Also gone are the “teaching considerations” that helped guide teachers on appropriate ways to teach the content.

The maths children should learn was previously broken up into what they needed to “understand, know and do” – the UKD model. But this has changed to “knowledge” and “practices”.

In short, there are new things to teach, things to teach in different years, and the whole curriculum is harder and structured differently. It is effectively a new curriculum.

Not just a document

Most teachers now have about eight school weeks to plan for the changes, alongside teaching, planning, marking, reporting, pastoral support and extracurricular activities.

For busy schools heading into the end of the school year, the timeline is unrealistic, some say a “nightmare”.

For secondary teachers, who will be making changes in years 9 and 10, this is the first major curriculum change since 2007.

Primary and intermediate teachers, who have worked hard this year getting up to speed with a new curriculum that will soon expire, might legitimately ask why they bothered.

A curriculum change is a big deal in a school, something that normally happens once in a decade or more. A curriculum is not just a document, it is used every day for planning, teaching and assessment. Any change requires more lead time than this.

When England launched a new National Curriculum in 2013, teachers had it 12 months ahead of implementation. Singapore, a country whose education system Education Minister Erica Stanford paints as exemplary, gave teachers two years to prepare for the secondary maths curriculum change in 2020.

Expecting teachers to prepare for major curriculum changes in eight weeks is not only unnecessarily rushed and stressful – it is also a risk to children’s learning.

Time to slow down

Term one next year also marks the implementation of the new “student monitoring, assessment and reporting tool” (SMART) which teachers have not yet seen.

Children in Years 3–10 will take maths tests twice a year and will be described as emerging, developing, consolidating, proficient or exceeding. Children in the top three categories (during the year) or top two categories (at the end of year) are “on track”.

For the rest, the curriculum says “teachers will need to adjust classroom practice, develop individualised responses, or trigger additional learning support”.

The original curriculum rewrite shifted the goalposts – only 22% of year 8 students would be at the “expectation” level, compared with 42% previously – and this curriculum shifts those goalposts further.

The inevitably poorer results from testing against a more challenging curriculum risk damaging children’s self confidence, disappointing parents and placing blame on teachers.

Test results may improve in later years, compared to those produced in the first year of assessment against a harder curriculum that will take time to embed. But that will not necessarily be evidence the change was justified.

Pausing this latest curriculum change for at least 12 months would give time for adequate consultation and preparation. That would be more consistent with the change processes of education systems internationally.

According to a recent report from the Education Review Office, teachers have mostly demonstrated professionalism in their conscientious adoption of the previous curriculum.

In our view, the most recent changes will severely test that goodwill.

David Pomeroy receives funding from the Teaching and Learning Research Initiative (TLRI).

Lisa Darragh receives funding from the Teaching and Learning Research Initiative, and has previously received funding from the Royal Society Te Apārangi Fast start Marsden grant.

NZ’s first marine reserve is turning 50 – the lessons from its recovery are invaluable

2025-10-26T18:28:30Z

Paul Caiger, CC BY-SA

New Zealand’s first legislated marine reserve, established 50 years ago around Te Hāwere-a-Maki/Goat Island north of Auckland, was also among the very first in the world.

During the decades since then, marine scientists have been monitoring changes and tracking significant transformations in the ecosystem – from bare rocky reefs to thriving kelp forests.

Officially known as the Cape Rodney-Okakari Point Marine Reserve, the 556 hectares of protected waters and seabed became New Zealand’s first no-take zone in 1975.

Back then, very little grew on the shallow rocky reefs. It took almost three decades for kelp forests to reestablish following the slow recovery of crayfish and snapper stocks.

These predators play an essential role in keeping marine reef ecosystems healthy because they eat kina (sea urchins) which otherwise increase in numbers and mow down kelp forests.

Once crayfish and snapper were able to mature and grow, the kelp forests returned. Their recovery in turn provided a nursery for juvenile fish and many species came back.

We now see parrotfish, black angelfish, blue maomao, red moki, silver drummers, leatherjackets, octopus and several species of stingrays. Bottlenose dolphins and orca pass through occasionally.

Red moki are among the fish now seen in the marine reserve. Paul Caiger, CC BY-SA

The reserve features a far higher density of fish and other marine life than outside its boundaries. But despite the protection, fish are not as plentiful within the reserve now as they were in the late 1970s.

The ongoing changes within the protected area are helping us to understand the impact of commercial and recreational fishing.

Pressures from fisheries

In 1964, a decade before the marine reserve was established, the Leigh marine laboratory opened on the cliffs above it. Its first director, Bill Ballantine, was concerned that fish stocks were dwindling and marine ecosystems declining in the Hauraki Gulf and became a key force in pushing for the marine reserve to be set up.

But since 1975, Auckland’s population has exploded and recreational and commercial fishing pressures outside the marine reserve have increased markedly.

While crayfish numbers and sizes began to recover when the marine reserve was established, they have dropped again over the past ten years. And fish stocks in the reserve remain far below the levels that would have been present before commercial fishing began to intensify rapidly in the area during the 1950s.

We think this is because the reserve is too small and continues to be affected by the rise in commercial and recreational fishing in the Hauraki Gulf.

Large snapper and crayfish sometimes move out of the reserve and are caught. The outside areas aren’t replenishing the reserve because they are heavily fished.

Reef surveys are part of the ongoing research in the marine reserve. Paul Caiger, CC BY-SA

Recent research shows people can speed up kelp restoration in some places by removing kina, but large snapper and crayfish are still needed to maintain the balance long-term.

Another key discovery has been that the reserve’s many mature snapper produce about ten times more juvenile snapper than in unprotected areas of the same size.

About 11% of young snapper found up to 40 kilometres away from the reserve are offspring of snapper that live in the reserve. This “spillover effect” means the reserve is actually enhancing fisheries in the Hauraki Gulf.

Safeguarding the ocean

The Hauraki Gulf Tīkapa Moana Marine Protection Act, which comes into force this month, makes the Goat Island marine reserve about four times larger, extending the offshore boundary from 800 metres to three kilometres and significantly increasing the diversity of habitats protected.

The marine reserve has demonstrated the value of safeguarding patches of sea, but it has also shown that reserves need to be larger to better protect key species such as crayfish and snapper from fishing pressures.

It is also important to protect different types of habitat, in particular the soft-sediment seafloor ecosystems that comprise the bulk of the Hauraki Gulf. These ecosystems are high in biodiversity, support important fisheries, sequester carbon and process nutrients that maintain productivity. But they are vulnerable to seafloor disturbance.

An eagle ray rests on a sandy patch among the reef. These habitats now get more protection. Tegan Evans/Gemma Cunnington, CC BY-SA

As the impacts of climate change worsen, the historical records and understanding we have drawn from this marine reserve now act as an important baseline.

We know that restoring kelp forests in the reserve and elsewhere has made the area more resilient to climate change, while also contributing to carbon sequestration.

Unprotected areas outside the marine reserve are dominated by kina barrens because of a lack of predators such as snapper and caryfish. Paul Caiger, CC BY-SA

If kelp forests were restored in the Hauraki Gulf Marine Park, the plants would be worth about NZ$7.9 million in carbon credits, if they were valued in the same way as land-based forests.

About 350,000 people visit the reserve annually, mostly to snorkel, dive or take a glass-bottom boat trip to explore the abundance of life beneath the waves. A lot more places could look like this marine reserve if we managed our oceans better.

Conrad Pilditch receives funding from the Department of Conservation, MBIE, regional councils and PROs. He is affiliated with the Mussel Reef Restoration Trust, Whangateau Catchment Collective and New Zealand Marine Sciences Society.

Simon Francis Thrush receives funding from MBIE, philanthropy and ERC. He is affiliated with the Royal Society of New Zealand and the Whangateau Harbour Care Group.

Historical images made with AI recycle colonial stereotypes and bias – new research

2025-10-23T22:54:03Z

Generative AI has revolutionised how we make and consume images. Tools such as Midjourney, DALL-E and Sora can now conjure anything, from realistic photos to oil-like paintings – all from a short text prompt.

These images circulate through social media in ways that make their artificial origins difficult to discern. But the ease of producing and sharing AI imagery also comes with serious social risks.

Studies show that by drawing on training data scraped from online and other digital sources, generative AI models routinely mirror sexist and racist stereotypes – portraying pilots as men, for example, or criminals as people of colour.

My soon-to-be-published new research finds generative AI also carries a colonial bias.

When prompted to visualise Aotearoa New Zealand’s past, Sora privileges the European settler viewpoint: pre-colonial landscapes are rendered as empty wilderness, Captain Cook appears as a calm civiliser, and Māori are cast as timeless, peripheral figures.

As generative AI tools become increasingly influential in how we communicate, such depictions matter. They naturalise myths of benevolent colonisation and undermine Māori claims to political sovereignty, redress and cultural revitalisation.

‘Sora, what did the past look like?’

To explore how AI imagines the past, OpenAI’s text-to-image model Sora was prompted to create visual scenes from Aotearoa New Zealand’s history, from the 1700s to the 1860s.

The prompts were deliberately left open-ended – a common approach in critical AI research – to reveal the model’s default visual assumptions rather than prescribe what should appear.

Because generative AI systems operate on probabilities, predicting the most likely combination of visual elements based on their training data, the results were remarkably consistent: the same prompts produced near-identical images, again and again.

Two examples help illustrate the kinds of visual patterns that kept recurring.

Sora-generated image from the prompt ‘New Zealand in the 1700s’.

In Sora’s vision of “New Zealand in the 1700s”, a steep forested valley is bathed in golden light, with Māori figures arranged as ornamental details. There are no food plantations or pā fortifications, only wilderness awaiting European discovery.

This aesthetic draws directly on the Romantic landscape tradition of 19th-century colonial painting, such as the work of John Gully, which framed the land as pristine and unclaimed (so-called terra nullius) to justify colonisation.

Sora-generated image from the prompt ‘a Māori in the 1860s’.

When asked to portray “a Māori in the 1860s”, Sora defaults to a sepia-toned studio portrait: a dignified man in a cloak, posed against a neutral backdrop.

The resemblance to cartes de visite photographs of the late 19th century is striking. Such portraits were typically staged by European photographers, who provided props to produce an image of the “authentic native”.

It’s revealing that Sora instinctively reaches for this format, even though the 1860s were defined by armed and political resistance by Māori communities, as colonial forces sought to impose British authority and confiscate land.

Recycling old sources

Visual imagery has always played a central role in legitimising colonisation. In recent decades, however, this colonial visual regime has been steadily challenged.

As part of the Māori rights movement and a broader historical reckoning, statues have been removed, museum exhibitions revised, and representations of Māori in visual media have shifted.

Yet the old imagery has not disappeared. It survives in digital archives and online museum collections, often de-contextualised and lacking critical interpretation.

And while the precise sources of generative AI training data are unknown, it is highly likely these archives and collections form part of what systems such as Sora learn from.

Generative AI tools effectively recycle those sources, thereby reproducing the very conventions that once served the project of empire.

But imagery that portrays colonisation as peaceful and consensual can blunt the perceived urgency of Māori claims to political sovereignty and redress through institutions such as the Waitangi Tribunal, as well as calls for cultural revitalisation.

By rendering Māori of the past as passive, timeless figures, these AI-generated visions obscure the continuity of the Māori self-determination movement for tino rangatiratanga and mana motuhake.

An AI-generated social media post visualising history from a Māori perspective. Facebook

AI literacy is the key

Across the world, researchers and communities are working to decolonise AI, developing ethical frameworks that embed Indigenous data sovereignty and collective consent.

Yet visual generative AI presents distinct challenges, because it deals not only in data but also in images that shape how people see history and identity. Technical fixes can help, but they each have their limitations.

Extending datasets to include Māori-curated archives or images of resistance might diversify what the model learns – but only if done under principles of Indigenous data and visual sovereignty.

Addressing the bias in algorithms could, in theory, balance what Sora shows when prompted about colonial rule. But defining “fair” representation is a political question, not just a technical one.

Filters might block the most biased outputs, but they can also erase uncomfortable truths, such as depictions of colonial violence.

Perhaps the most promising solution lies in AI literacy. We need to understand how these systems think, what data they draw on, and how to prompt them effectively.

Approached critically and creatively – as some social media users are already doing – AI can move beyond recycling colonial tropes to become a medium for re-seeing the past through Indigenous and other perspectives.

Olli Hellmann 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.

NZ may be on the cusp of another measles outbreak – what happened in 2019 should be a warning

2025-10-23T19:10:30Z

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The recent confirmation of new measles cases unconnected to international travel suggests the highly contagious disease has likely started spreading through communities, according to Health New Zealand.

This is a stark reminder of the pending danger of a larger measles outbreak. To prevent transmission once the measles virus has been introduced, a population immunity of around 95%, evenly distributed throughout communities, is necessary.

New Zealand does not have this level of vaccination coverage and the main way to prevent an outbreak now is to focus on increasing the immunity of children and on closing the “immunity gap” in the population.

While New Zealand has used the measles vaccine since 1969, a national immunisation register was only introduced in 2005. Without a national register to provide the historical immunisation record, estimates are that only around 80% of people born in the 1980s and 1990s are protected against measles.

Although vaccination rates of children have at times reached more than 90% since the introduction of the register, the total has never reached the required 95%. Immunisation coverage has consistently remained lower among Māori children and more recently also Pacific children.

This graph shows that annual immunisation rates for two-year-olds have dropped for Māori and, more recently, for Pacific children, compared to Asian and NZ European (NZE) children. Author provided, CC BY-SA

To stem further spread, we must build on the lessons from New Zealand’s last major measles outbreak in 2019.

That year, Auckland experienced a large and serious measles outbreak – the largest since 1997 – affecting babies, young children and adults. There were more than 2,000 cases and about 35% required hospital care, despite the fact most people who contracted measles were previously fit and healthy.

About a third of people under 30 who contracted measles required hospital care during the 2019 outbreak in Auckland. Author provided, CC BY-SA

Some of the serious and lasting complications included encephalitis (brain inflammation), pregnant women losing babies, and children needing lengthy life-saving intensive care.

While acute measles can be severe, our subsequent research shows that measles infection is associated with a long-term increased risk of other infections.

We found that people who had measles in the 2019 outbreak had more hospital admissions not related to measles and more antibiotic prescriptions in the four years following the outbreak, compared to healthy controls.

While the effect was more pronounced for people whose measles infection was severe and needed hospital care, we also saw a lasting effect for those with milder infections.

The severity of this outbreak could have been prevented if more people had been protected with the measles, mumps and rubella (MMR) vaccine.

Immunisation coverage is lacking

Immunisation coverage for the MMR vaccine (given at 12 and 15 months of age) shows New Zealand’s vaccination rates are not enough to prevent an outbreak in children under five.

Data from June 2025 shows only 82% of two-year-olds are fully immunised with two doses of the vaccine. This leaves at least one in five unprotected.

Babies under one year of age are not protected because the first MMR dose is only given at 12 months. This is particularly worrying as young babies have very high rates of hospitalisation and complications from measles. In the 2019 outbreak, there were more than 250 cases in babies and more than half of them were hospitalised.

Data also show the burden of the 2019 outbreak was not equitable and these inequities persist in immunisation coverage today. Gaps in coverage create pools of susceptible individuals, rife for measles to take hold and spread.

What is also clear from the recent measles cases is that our history of inadequate measles vaccination has left young adults vulnerable to infection.

This happens at an age when they are able to travel overseas, with the unintentional consequences of bringing measles home to their whānau (family), including unimmunised pēpi (babies).

This would be particularly concerning if a measles outbreak were to take hold before the summer holidays. Even a few cases in New Zealand could make us the source of outbreaks for other Pacific nations.

In late 2019, measles imported from New Zealand resulted in 5,700 cases in Samoa, including 1,800 hospitalisations and 83 deaths from measles (87% of these deaths were children under five).

Awareness and prevention

Anyone under 50 years of age who is experiencing a fever, rash, cough and runny nose should think measles, particularly if they returned from travel in the past three weeks, are unimmunised or a contact of a recent case. They should call HealthLine (0800 611 116) for advice before visiting a GP or hospital, unless severely unwell.

If in doubt vaccinate. The health-sector response to the 2019 outbreak recommended GPs continue to actively recall unvaccinated children after checking the national immunisation register.

For anyone unsure if they have had two doses of the measles vaccine, it is safe to get a dose according to the Immunisation Advisory Centre if they are not immune-compromised or pregnant. MMR vaccines are free and available from GPs, pharmacies and community health providers. Vaccinators are listed on Book My Vaccine.

Measles infection is scary but vaccination can be scary for people, too. The World Health Organization recommends listening with empathy and acknowledging how people who are hesitant are feeling.

It also suggests asking open-ended questions to help understand concerns and sharing evidence-based information from trusted sources, including Health New Zealand or the Immunisation Advisory Centre. It can help to share your own motivations for getting vaccinated and what helped you to overcome concerns.

With a stretched health system and long-term consequences for individuals following measles infection, prevention is essential.

Anna Howe receives funding from the Health Research Council and Arthritis NZ. She has been involved in research funded by GSK and was the first KPS Research Fellow. She has previously worked for the Immunisation Advisory Centre as their research and policy analyst.

Emma Best receives funding from the Health Research Council and Starship Foundation for measles-related research.

Rachel Webb 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.

Pro-cycling crashes can be bad, but evidence suggests slower bikes aren’t the answer

2025-10-22T23:46:34Z

Marco Bertorello/AFP via Getty Images

It might seem counter-intuitive in a sport built around speed, but the world governing body for competitive cycling wants to slow elite riders down.

Worried about high-speed crashes during pro-racing events, the Union Cycliste Internationale (UCI) has proposed a cap on the gear size riders can use. The idea is to lower the possible top speed bikes can achieve.

The risks are real, too. At the recent Tour Down Under Men’s Classic in Australia, a high-speed multi-rider crash on the final corner sent bikes into the barriers and into the crowd, badly injuring a spectator.

In August this year, champion British rider Chris Froome crashed while training in France, suffering a collapsed lung, broken ribs and a spinal fracture.

But would restricting gear size prevent these kinds of high-speed crashes? Certainly, not everyone thinks so.

Earlier this month, a Belgian court paused the rule change after teams and a major cycle component maker argued the safety case was not proven. While slower bikes might sound safer, they argue, the evidence tells a different story.

What the evidence tells us

The proposed rule would limit the largest gear size to 54 teeth on the front chainring and 11 on the rear sprocket. The idea is simple: lower the top gear to reduce top speed and, in theory, cut risk.

But while speed clearly matters when it comes to crashes, it is only one part of how they happen in a tightly packed peloton (the main pack of riders in a road race).

Our recent review of 18 studies of race speed and crash risk found two clear patterns:

higher speed makes injuries worse once a crash occurs
but the link between speed and the chance of crashing is weaker and depends on context.

Injury rates in the UCI WorldTour have climbed even though average race speeds have been steady. So, something else is at work.

We also examined the proposed gear cap itself. Based on our analysis, we argue any rule change should be evidence-based rather than simply a reaction to pressure after high-profile incidents.

Understanding why crashes occur is central to this. Essentially, they are about people and space, and happen for a number of reasons:

when riders fight for position as they enter a narrowing corner
when sprint “trains” (riders in the same team lining up for aerodynamic efficiency) cross wheels
or when road “furniture” appears too late to be avoided.

In this year’s Paris–Nice race, for example, Mattias Skjelmose struck a traffic island at speed and abandoned the race. Reports described it as a poorly marked obstacle.

Course design, peloton density and inconsistent rule enforcement often play a bigger role than a few extra kilometres per hour.

Olympic champion Tom Pidcock demonstrates a high-speed descent on the Rossfeld Panoramastrasse in Germany.

Why a gear limit won’t help much

On hill descents, where many serious injuries occur, riders freewheel in a tucked body position. Gravity and aerodynamics set the speed – gearing does not.

When riders are actually pedalling in a sprint, a 54×11 gear at high “cadence” (around 110–120 revolutions per minute) gives a speed of roughly 65 kilometres per hour (km/h). The very fastest finishes in elite men’s races reach about 75 km/h – the absolute peak speed.

A cap on gearing would trim roughly 5–10 km/h from the top-end, bringing the fastest sprints down to around 65–70 km/h. But most sprint pileups start below those speeds and are triggered by contact or line changes.

Lowering everyone’s top speed could even bunch the field more tightly and raise the risk of contact. The pro-cycling world already knows what helps:

smarter course design that removes blind corners and tight bottlenecks
standard barriers and better planning for road furniture
consistent enforcement of dangerous riding and sprint deviations
open incident data so researchers can calculate risk-to-speed ratios and target hazards.

These steps match what other high-speed sports have done to reduce injuries. Motor sports redesign the environment rather than just limit speed, with NASCAR and IndyCar having adopted energy-absorbing barriers to cut wall-impact forces.

And alpine skiing manages risk with course design, as well as nets and airbag protection to control speed and crash severity.

Similar approaches to safety are used in aviation, mining and healthcare. The aim is to focus on the environment and behaviour, measure exposure, fix the hotspots and share what works to keep improving safety.

Dylan Mordaunt is a physician and health economist who has cycled competitively and recreationally for almost 40 years.

A tiny fossil suggests bowerbirds once lived in ancient New Zealand – new research

2025-10-22T19:11:04Z

Getty Images

Most of our knowledge of New Zealand’s prehistoric bird diversity comes from long-lost species with bones large enough to be studied by eye. But many bird bones are so tiny we can barely see their features without a microscope.

Some 14 to 19 million years ago, in the Miocene epoch, the remains of thousands of birds were preserved in and around the vast Lake Manuherikia, located in present-day Central Otago.

We know a lot about some of the lake’s larger birds such as ducks. But we have less information on smaller birds such as the highly diverse passerines, which include songbirds. Modern species in this group include the tūī and tauhou/silvereyes.

The minute bones of passerines are difficult to find in the field, and only come to light after many hours of painstaking sorting under a microscope. But technologies such as micro-CT scanning are now helping to reveal their secrets.

Our new research adds a quirky new passerine to the fossil record of Aotearoa and shows just how unique its ancient biodiversity was. The new species appears to be in the bowerbird family of songbirds, which are not native in New Zealand today.

Made famous by Sir David Attenborough’s nature documentaries, bowerbirds are best known for their elaborate courtship behaviour and the males’ efforts to decorate bowers with coloured fruit or leaves to attract a mate. These showy males are often brightly coloured, while females are more drab – and very choosy about their mates.

Courtship of the bowerbirds.

Until now, bowerbirds and their fossil relatives have only been found in Australia and New Guinea.

The St Bathans bowerbird

Among all the tiny bones found in the St Bathans fossil site, a curious foot bone stood out. When we compared digital models of the fossil to a great number of other passerines, it bore all the hallmarks of a bowerbird; but this one was much smaller and more slender than living bowerbirds.

An artist’s impression of the bowerbird that may have once lived in New Zealand. Sasha Votyakova/Te Papa, CC BY-SA

It’s name is Aevipertidus gracilis – the gracile one from a lost age.

The size of Aevipertidus gracilis would make it the smallest known bowerbird. Most living bowerbirds are chunky, weighing anywhere from 62 to 265 grams and spending time both on the ground and in the forest canopy.

New Zealand’s bowerbird weighed around 33 grams, similar to a korimako/bellbird but with longer feet.

Our analysis suggests the St Bathans bowerbird foot was most similar in shape to a group known to construct walk-through avenue bowers, such as the brightly coloured flame bowerbird.

We can only speculate about its plumage and behaviour, but Aevipertidus gracilis may also have performed elaborate displays to attract a mate.

The St Bathans bowerbird joins other New Zealand passerines with an ancient history – including huia, kōkako, piopio and mohua – whose ancestors flew across the ocean to Zealandia millions of years ago.

The St Bathans bowerbird lived far from its relatives in warm Australia and New Guinea. If it was a fruit eater, it may have been poorly equipped for temperatures that began dropping dramatically around 14 million years ago and caused a reduction in plant diversity. Ultimately, it may have become a victim of climate change.

Conservation palaeobiology

Fossils like the St Bathans bowerbird as well as genetic research are revealing New Zealand’s story of bird evolution, with extinctions and repeated colonisations across geological time.

For example, prehistoric shelducks colonised ancient Zealandia, only for them to go extinct. Around two million years ago, ancestors of the pūtangitangi/paradise shelduck recolonised New Zealand.

The same is true for the ancient passerine relatives of magpies, which went extinct after the Miocene. But unlike the native shelducks, modern makipai/Australian magpies were introduced by Europeans in the 1860s.

Some researchers suggest these long-extinct species muddy the concept of what is native or introduced in New Zealand, using magpies as an example.

Even though ancient magpie relatives once lived in Zealandia, it doesn’t mean their living cousins belong in the modern ecosystem. This thinking could undermine conservation management and lead to ecosystems being more degraded by invasive species.

The St Bathans wonderland existed in a Zealandia before the Southern Alps rose to create the South Island’s backbone. Lake Manuherikia was home to many plants and animals, including crocodilians and tortoises, making it very different from what is there today. It doesn’t make sense to consider these ancient animals as native in modern Aotearoa.

New discoveries like the St Bathans bowerbird provide wonderful insights into New Zealand’s biological heritage. Let’s celebrate these discoveries as clues to the past and not use them to undermine the ongoing fight to protect the country’s special living plants and animals.

We thank the coauthors on our paper, Daniel Field and Alex Brown, Sasha Votyakova for the artist’s reconstruction, the landowners at St Bathans for access to their land, Jean-Claude Stahl for preparation of the fossil photos, and numerous fieldworkers who helped with our excavations.

Elizabeth Steell received funding from Girton College and Newnham College, University of Cambridge, UK.

Alan Tennyson received funding from the Te Papa Collection Development Fund and the Australian Research Council.

Nic Rawlence receives funding from the Royal Society Te Apārangi Marsden Fund.

Pascale Lubbe receives funding from Royal Society Te Apārangi Marsden Fund

Mega-strike: where is the ‘ethical line’ in public health and are doctors really crossing it?

2025-10-21T17:46:25Z

Minister of Health Simeon Brown. Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images

Health Minister Simeon Brown’s claim that this week’s industrial action by doctors “crosses an ethical line” misunderstands doctors’ ethical responsibilities.

Doctors and nurses, together with teachers, are among tens of thousands expected to take part in a multi-sector “mega-strike” on Thursday.

Striking is an option of last resort. In healthcare, it causes disruption and inconvenience for patients, whānau and the health system – but it is ethically justified.

Arguably, it is ethically required when poor working conditions associated with staff shortages, inadequate infrastructure and underfunding threaten the wellbeing of patients and the long-term sustainability of public health services.

The impact of these conditions on retention and recruitment of doctors in New Zealand is well documented. A 2022 survey shows almost 11% of doctors planned to leave New Zealand permanently, up from less than 5% in 2017. Only 62% planned to continue working in the public healthcare system in 2022, compared to 83% in 2017.

The real ethical issue is successive governments’ failure to address these conditions and their impact on patient care.

Duty of care

The minister’s comments imply that striking doctors are failing to meet their ethical obligations to provide care.

These are the same doctors who, alongside nurses, carers and allied health professionals, kept New Zealand’s health system functioning during the COVID pandemic in the face of heightened personal risk, often inadequate protections and substantial additional burdens.

While the duty of care is of primary ethical importance, codes of ethics also recognise doctors’ duties to all patients, and responsibilities to advocate for adequate resourcing in the health system. These duties may justify compromising care to individual patients under the circumstances in which industrial action is considered.

As was well recognised during the COVID pandemic, governments have reciprocal duties to healthcare workers, including to provide safe and well resourced working environments.

The health minister seems to imply doctors are striking solely for individual gain. But like all healthcare workers, doctors take seriously their obligations to provide high-quality care in the public health system.

They are striking because their ability to meet these obligations is routinely compromised by working conditions that contribute to burnout and moral injury – the impact of having to work under circumstances that violate core moral values.

A key goal of the industrial action is to demand better conditions for clinical care, such as safe staffing levels, that will benefit patients and staff and improve the health system for everyone.

The right to strike

The minister may be concerned that strike action goes against doctors’ obligation to “do no harm”, or to put their patients’ interests first. These are important ethical commitments. But, like many ethical commitments, they are not absolute and must be balanced against other values and interests.

The potential risks of surgery, for example, are balanced against the patient’s likelihood of a long-term health gain. While doctors must provide life-preserving care during strike action, and minimise potential harms, some disruptions and inconveniences are ethically justified in light of the public interest in a safe, high-quality health service.

Doctors can argue they are striking out of concern that unless their claims are addressed even greater harms will result.

When healthcare workers are underpaid, undervalued and overworked, it is challenging to recruit and retain staff, undermining efforts to provide high-quality care.

As a party to the code of good faith in the Employment Relations Act 2000, Health New Zealand – and ultimately the minister of health – are required to commit to “develop, maintain and provide high-quality public health services”.

We should also be concerned about societal harms resulting from preventing doctors or other healthcare workers from taking industrial action in the future.

The right to strike is an important entitlement of workers to protect their social and economic interests. It is recognised internationally (in the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights) and protected under New Zealand’s employment law.

Preventing doctors from striking would violate this right. It would also risk the safety and wellbeing of patients by removing the capacity of doctors to demand better conditions in our hospitals.

Thursday’s strike action by doctors, alongside teachers, nurses and other health professionals, is ethically justified in defense of high-quality public services for everyone.

Elizabeth Fenton is the chair of the National Ethics Advisory Committee, but is writing in her role as an academic.

‘Soviet-era Stasi’ or defender of media freedoms? The battle for the Broadcasting Standards Authority

2025-10-21T01:53:52Z

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The decision by the Broadcasting Standards Authority (BSA) to formally consider a complaint about something Sean Plunket said on The Platform has now spun well beyond the complaint itself.

At the centre of the controversy is not so much the question of whether it was racist for Plunket to refer to Māori tikanga as “mumbo jumbo”, but whether the Broadcasting Act affords the authority jurisdiction over online content providers like The Platform.

Plunket insisted he would not be “censored” by “corrupt or incompetent […] Orwellian bureaucrats”, and rejected the claim that The Platform could be considered a broadcaster under the act.

Various sympathisers offered their support. NZ First leader Winston Peters accused the BSA of acting “like some Soviet-era Stasi”. Kiwiblog’s David Farrer accused the BSA of a “secret power-grab” and called for its abolition.

And ACT MP Todd Stephenson called it “a textbook example of a public agency trying to rewrite its own job description […] dismissing freedom of choice, and disregarding the boundaries of its democratic mandate”.

The criticism hinged on how the 1989 Broadcasting Act defines broadcasting. Now outdated, this is what makes the BSA’s manoeuvre unprecedented and therefore so contentious.

The act defines broadcasting as “any transmission of programmes, whether or not encrypted, by radio waves or other means of telecommunication for reception by the public by means of broadcasting receiving apparatus”. But it excludes on-demand services and public performances.

Thus far, this has limited the BSA’s jurisdiction to radio, free-to-air TV, pay-TV, and online content that has also been broadcast (including some material on Sky’s Neon).

The Platform’s provision of live online audio streaming (plus video for subscribers), much in the style of a radio broadcast, seems to be the pretext under which the BSA considers it potentially within its jurisdiction.

The Platform as test case

Efforts to overhaul the legislation go back two decades. But successive governments have failed to implement more than incremental amendments.

The BSA itself undertook a consultation with broadcasters in 2019 to explore how to respond to online content, then published its response in 2020.

More recently, the Ministry for Culture and Heritage consulted on a range of media reforms, including a proposal for modernising professional media regulation. In theory, this could extend the BSA’s oversight to some online media. As the BSA has explained:

Our published policy since 2020 has been that, if we receive a relevant complaint and there’s no other applicable standards body or regulator, and if the complaint raises issues of public interest or a risk of harm, we may accept the complaint and engage with the parties using our established processes.

Rightly or wrongly, the BSA’s “draft interlocutory decision”, issued to The Platform for comment, follows from this policy.

So, has the BSA decided to unilaterally rewrite the Broadcasting Act? Or is it trying to fulfil its legitimate remit by interpreting the purpose of the act in the modern digital context?

By advancing its claim to hear the complaint about The Platform, the BSA may be seeking to set a legal precedent that will establish its jurisdiction over broadcasting-like online services.

Or, if it is denied that, it might still increase pressure on the government to expedite its proposed revisions of the act.

The Platform’s displeasure at becoming a test case is perhaps understandable. But calling for the abolition of the BSA is surely misconstruing what is really at stake.

Holding media power accountable

The BSA is not a censor. In fact, suppressing or deleting illegal material falls under the purview of the Classification Office. The broadcasting standards regime is actually intended to uphold freedom of expression within a framework of standards to minimise harms.

As the BSA confirms, only 7% of complaints over the past three years were upheld, and very few have merited a fine or other sanction (the maximum fine is NZ$5,000, not $100,000 as Plunket has suggested).

Consider the standards covered in the Broadcasting Code: offensive and disturbing content, children’s interests, promotion of illegal or antisocial behaviour, discrimination and degradation, balance, accuracy, privacy and fairness.

Far from being the tools of a Stalinesque state, these are the principles upon which a functional media system in a democracy is premised. In fact, the BSA standards are developed and reviewed in consultation with industry and the public.

The specific codes evolve over time in response to changing audience attitudes (for example, tolerance for strong language), media practices and technologies.

The BSA standards are therefore not randomly imposed by an “Orwellian” bureaucracy. They reflect professional industry practices, community values and the public interest.

Regulatory measures that uphold fundamental standards such as balance, accuracy and fairness do not undermine democracy and freedom of expression, but underpin it. One might disagree with the BSA’s decisions, but such standards should not be discarded lightly.

Those who decry any and all media regulation as an affront to personal liberty and free speech need to consider the alternative – a commercial free-for-all in which the powerful interests which control media platforms can employ them to disseminate propaganda, disinformation or hate speech with impunity.

The BSA may not be perfect, but the principle that media operators should be held accountable – not to government, but to the public interest – is sound.

Peter Thompson is a founding board member of the Better Public Media trust. He has previously undertaken commissioned research for the Broadcasting Standards Authority, the Ministry for Culture & Heritage, NZ On Air, the Department of Internal Affairs, the Canadian Department of Heritage and SPADA. He has also been a guest commentator on The Platform.

NZ’s government wants tourism to drive economic growth – but how will it deal with aviation emissions?

2025-10-20T19:11:22Z

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Following a brief dip during the COVID pandemic, aviation is back in a growth phase.

Globally, passenger traffic is projected to grow by 3.8% annually over the next 20 years. In New Zealand, this optimism is reflected in Jetstar’s expansion plans for its domestic and trans-Tasman services and Auckland Airport’s airfield extension.

The government has welcomed the trend and sees the aviation and tourism industries as key drivers of economic growth.

But climate impacts of flying are rarely mentioned, even though the government is currently considering whether or not to include emissions from international aviation and shipping in New Zealand’s net zero 2050 target, as recommended by the Climate Change Commission.

Emissions from New Zealand’s international aviation and shipping are equivalent to about 9% of the country’s net domestic emissions. Without action to reduce emissions from these sectors, they could grow to a third of domestic net emissions by 2050, according to the commission.

Climate Change Minister Simon Watts is expected to announce a decision next month.

New Zealand’s action plan for aviation

In September, the newly established Interim Aviation Council released an aviation action plan. It covers regulation, innovation, economic growth and emissions.

The plan’s ambition is that New Zealand will be:

reducing the use of fossil fuels and transitioning to clean energy, in line with New Zealand’s target of net zero carbon emissions by 2050.

In a new report, we have analysed the plan in the context of New Zealand’s international commitments.

First, let’s backtrack to 2021 and New Zealand’s first emissions reduction plan. That also included work to decarbonise aviation by setting specific targets, implementing a sustainable aviation fuel mandate and establishing a public-private leadership body.

That body, Sustainable Aviation Aotearoa (SAA), was set up in 2022. But there is no word yet on the targets or mandate. The SAA has never published any minutes, work plans, calls for evidence or advice.

Its initial balance of public and private membership became skewed in favour of industry, with more airlines and oil companies (Airbus, Boeing, Exxon Mobil, British Petroleum, Z Energy, and Channel Infrastructure) joining the group than organisations representing the environment.

Of 49 members, only three (one from the Climate Change Commission and two from the Ministry for the Environment) have an environmental focus.

New Zealand’s second emissions reduction plan, published last year, mentions aviation emissions only briefly, commenting that:

the government’s role is to facilitate industry discussions through existing forums, consider regulatory barriers and ensure New Zealand’s interests are represented on the international stage.

That statement is incorrect. The government’s role, as specified in the Climate Change Response Act, is to prepare sector-specific policies to reduce emissions. But the Climate Change Commission has reviewed these policies and found them to be inadequate – it found virtually all policy-driven goals to cut emissions were at risk of not being achieved.

Global goal for net-zero flying

The International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO) has a goal of net-zero international aviation emissions by 2050. A key task for New Zealand, one of 193 member nations, is to determine how we should implement this.

International aviation is currently a large, unregulated source of emissions. In 2024, just the first outgoing legs of flights from New Zealand emitted 3.5 million tonnes of carbon dioxide, equivalent to 12% of all domestic emissions from fossil fuels (coal, oil, gas) combined.

States have committed to mapping out plans to cut aviation emissions and submit them to ICAO. New Zealand’s plan was already overdue in 2022. Although it appears the SAA has done some work on this, no plan has been submitted yet.

Plans from other countries, including the United Kingdom, give some idea of the challenge. They describe a mixture of low-carbon fuels, efficiency gains and offsetting – but add these won’t get us all the way.

Additional measures such as carbon removal and demand management will be required. The UK’s sustainable aviation fuel mandate began this year and will strengthen every year, with airlines facing penalties of about NZ$11 per litre for missing targets.

As the UK’s action plan notes:

Most options for aviation decarbonisation rely on new technology, the development and uptake of which is extremely uncertain, owing to the uncertain nature of technology readiness and cost of technology over time.

This is not the government’s task alone

Aviation is part of a wider system. Passengers, tourism operators, airports, airlines, fuel companies and the government all share responsibility for the sector’s requirement to cut emissions.

Failure to deliver can lead to a loss of trust and impede progress. The tourism industry is crucial for New Zealand, and it is notable that the Tourism Industry Association supports the entry of international aviation into emission targets.

It appears Sustainable Aviation Aotearoa has not achieved its core purpose to “provide advice and coordination to accelerate the decarbonisation” of New Zealand’s aviation sector.

The Interim Aviation Council may be heading the same way. It has no environmental representation and assigns no actions to the Ministry for the Environment. Nor does it mention the regulation of emissions, which is the only way to simultaneously achieve environmental goals and lower uncertainty for investors.

As the permanent council is formed, it should operate openly and balance state, industry and public interests.

The author acknowledges the contribution by Paul Callister.

Robert McLachlan 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.

Why claims of ‘transformational’ school reading improvement are premature

2025-10-20T02:10:48Z

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The government has made some bold claims for its school reading policies – including that early results have been “transformational”. But we should be careful about rushing to judgement this early.

Following the release of a Ministry of Education report on phonics checks over the first three terms of this school year, Education Minister Erica Stanford said the results showed “a significant boost in reading success” and that “in less than a year we are reversing the decades of decline in student achievement”.

The claims are based on results from an assessment of children’s ability to decode a series of real and made-up (pseudo) words that look and sound like words but aren’t (“blork”, for example). According to the report, the results “show significant increases in student achievement”.

To understand what the data is really telling us, however, we first need to take a step back and consider whether the ability to read individual words (or pseudo words) can be considered “reading” at all.

The ‘simple view of reading’

This question is particularly significant, as it is connected to the rationale for implementing structured approaches to literacy, based on what is known as the “simple view of reading”.

The “simple view” argues that reading is a combination of decoding and language comprehension. It argues that if children are taught to lift words off the page, and they have good oral language skills, they will be able to understand and read well with practice.

The simple view of reading has itself been accused of being too simple. And we know large amounts of the variation in reading ability are not explained by the model. Yet it is still supported by those who favour the kinds of structured literacy approaches now being mandated in New Zealand schools.

Also, it has been shown that the parts of the brain that are active when people are reading individual (often pseudo) words are different to those parts activated by meaningful reading (such as an interesting story).

So, when looking at the phonics check data it would be a mistake to equate increased achievement in that specific measurement with increased achievement in actual reading.

In fact, a study in the United Kingdom showed greatly increased achievement on a similar phonics test did not result in significant improvements in later reading ability.

This is not to question the importance of decoding ability as a necessary skill for reading. But it should not be equated with reading itself. While we can celebrate an improvement in phonics results if there is one, we should be careful not to overreach when discussing its significance.

Inconclusive data

The minister highlighted the number of schools and thousands of children included in the data, and how representative of the population they are.

However, closer analysis of the report shows these are mostly not the same children; they are different children from different schools at each time point. This makes extrapolating evidence of progress difficult.

Within the thousands of children measured, there are only 516 for whom we have data at both the six-month and one-year points of their progress. We also don’t know their cultural and socioeconomic backgrounds.

We can look at the results of those children to consider change over time and whether progress is being made. But we are limited in how much we can say generally with such a small sample.

With those caveats, then, the data actually show that after six months of schooling there were 21.7% of children “exceeding expectations”. After one year this had fallen to 16.7%.

There were more children considered “proficient” in reading pseudo words after a year (22.7% compared with 18.6% after six months). But many of them had been exceeding expectations six months earlier.

The number of children meeting or exceeding expectations went from 40.3% after six months to 39.4% after one year. While this looks like a slight drop, we can’t really say that because of the small sample. We can say there was no real change.

After one year there are fewer “needing support”, which is good news. Again, with such a small sample of children from unknown backgrounds, that provides reason for cautious optimism at best.

There is also quite a bit of movement between the bands, both up and down, and not all students saw accelerated achievement in decoding ability. For the 516 children for whom we have clear data, “transformational” is perhaps not the right word.

John Milne 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.

As social media age restrictions spread, is the internet entering its Victorian era?

2025-10-16T19:09:36Z

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A wave of proposed social media bans for young people has swept the globe recently, fuelled by mounting concern about the apparent harm the likes of TikTok, Instagram and Snapchat can cause to vulnerable minds.

Australia was the first to announce restrictions on people under 16 having a social media account. New Zealand may soon follow, and Denmark’s prime minister recently declared her country would ban social media for under-15s, accusing mobile phones and social networks of “stealing our children’s childhood”.

The moves are part of a growing international trend: the United Kingdom, France, Norway, Pakistan and the United States are now considering or implementing similar restrictions, often requiring parental consent or digital ID verification.

At first glance, these policies appear to be about protecting young people from mental health harm, explicit content and addictive design. But beneath the language of safety lies something else: a shift in cultural values.

The bans reflect a kind of moral turn, one that risks reviving conservative notions that predate the internet. Might we be entering a new Victorian era of the internet, where the digital lives of young people are reshaped not just by regulation but by a reassertion of moral control?

Policing moral decline

The Victorian era was marked by rigid social codes, modest dress and formal communication. Public behaviour was tightly regulated, and schools were seen as key sites for socialising children into gender and class hierarchies.

Today, we see echoes of this in the way “digital wellness” is framed. Screen-time apps, detox retreats and “dumb” phones are marketed as tools for cultivating a “healthy” digital life – often with moral undertones. The ideal user is calm, focused and restrained. The impulsive, distracted or emotionally expressive user is pathologised.

This framing is especially evident in the work of Jonathan Haidt, psychologist and author of The Anxious Generation, a central text in the age-restriction movement. Haidt argues that social media accelerates performative behaviour and emotional dysregulation in young people.

Viewed this way, youth digital life involves declining psychological resilience, rising polarisation and the erosion of shared civic values, rather than being a symptom of complex developmental or technological shifts. This has helped popularise the idea that social media is not just harmful but corrupting.

Yet the data behind these claims is contested. Critics have pointed out that Haidt’s conclusions often rely on correlational studies and selective interpretations.

For example, while some research links heavy social media use to anxiety and depression, other studies suggest the effects are modest and vary widely depending on context, platform and individual differences.

What’s missing from much of the debate is a recognition of young people’s agency, or their ability to navigate online spaces intelligently, creatively and socially.

Indeed, youth digital life is not just about passive consumption. It’s a site of literacy, expression and connection. Platforms such as TikTok and YouTube have fostered a renaissance of oral and visual communication.

Young people stitch together memes, remix videos and engage in rapid-fire editing to produce new forms of storytelling. These are not signs of decline but evolving literacies. To regulate youth access without acknowledging these skills risks suppressing the new in favour of preserving the familiar.

Regulate platforms, not young people

This is where the Victorian metaphor becomes useful. Just as Victorian norms sought to maintain a particular social order, today’s age restrictions risk enforcing a narrow vision of what digital life should look like.

On the surface, terms such as “brain rot” appear to convey the harm of excessive internet use. But in practice, they’re often used by teenagers to laugh about and resist the pressures of 24/7 hustle culture.

But concerns about young people’s digital habits seem rooted in a fear of cognitive difference – the idea that some users are too impulsive, too irrational, too deviant.

Young people are often cast as unable to communicate properly, hiding behind screens, avoiding phone calls. But these changing habits reflect broader shifts in how we relate to technology. The expectation to be always available, always responsive, ties us to our devices in ways that make switching off genuinely difficult.

Age restrictions may address some symptoms, but they don’t tackle the underlying design of platforms that are built to keep us scrolling, sharing and generating data.

If society and governments are serious about protecting young people, perhaps the better strategy is to regulate the digital platforms. Legal scholar Eric Goldman calls the age-restriction approach a “segregate and suppress” strategy – one that punishes youth rather than holding platforms accountable.

We would never ban children from playgrounds, but we do expect those spaces to be safe. Where are the safety barriers for digital spaces? Where is the duty of care from digital platforms?

The popularity of social media bans suggests a resurgence of conservative values in our digital lives. But protection should not come at the cost of autonomy, creativity or expression.

For many, the internet has become a moral battleground where values around attention, communication and identity are fiercely contested. But it is also a social infrastructure, one that young people are already shaping through new literacies and forms of expression.

Shielding them from it risks suppressing the very skills and voices that could help us build a better digital future.

Alex Beattie receives funding from The Royal Society Te Apārangi. He is a recipient of a Marsden Fast Start Grant.

Polls and trolls: is violent online abuse turning women off local politics?

2025-10-14T21:00:07Z

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In her final speech as Wellington mayor, Tory Whanau spoke candidly about the relentless online abuse she faced during her term, much of it racist and sexist. None of it would have been reassuring for hopeful candidates waiting for the weekend’s results.

Whanau described how false sexual rumours and targeted harassment circulated on social media, and was then repeated by other councillors. The speech underscored the toll digital vitriol can take on those in political office.

Is this something newly elected local body politicians can expect, too? Likely so, and arguably it will be experienced differently depending on their ethnicity, sexuality and gender.

Across the country, women in local government have faced relentless harassment in recent years. It’s the kind of abuse that has been described as “technology-facilitated violence against women”, and which aims to humiliate, coerce or silence.

This takes many forms: gendered disinformation, where false or sexualised rumours are spread to discredit women; misogynistic slurs and threats, often invoking violence or sexual humiliation; and image-based sexual abuse, where women’s likenesses are manipulated into pornographic content or shared without consent.

This is not unique to New Zealand. International research shows consistent trends, with online abuse causing significant emotional and psychological harm. It can discourage women from running for office or participating in public events once elected. And it can make them abandon a political career altogether.

Targeted disinformation and harassment can also erode trust in women leaders and distort political debate. In extreme cases, online abuse escalates into offline threats or stalking.

Given the decreasing numbers putting themselves forward for local office, especially Māori and women candidates, the consequences for representative democracy may already be evident.

Big gaps in the law

Online violence toward politicians tends to spike after significant events such as public debates or other campaign activity, and when public figures speak on certain hot button topics such as racism, LGBTQIA+ rights or climate change.

And with a general election next year, there is every indication this kind of behaviour will ramp up again. Unfortunately, the law addressing online abuse is fragmented and limited.

Current legislation, including the Harmful Digital Communications Act 2015, criminalises certain forms of online harassment, threats and the non-consensual sharing of intimate images.

But the law focuses primarily on individual acts, and does not fully capture the gendered and cumulative harm of abuse faced by women politicians. Defamation law can address false statements, but it is often costly and too slow to prevent the rapid spread of harmful content.

Proposed anti-stalking legislation aims to expand protection by criminalising repeated harassment, online or otherwise. The government has also introduced a security allowance for councillors to install monitored home security systems.

Significant gaps remain, however. Online, gender-based violence that combines sexualised rumours, slurs and coordinated smear campaigns often falls between existing offences. Women candidates often fall back on informal support networks rather than legal remedies.

Shifting the political culture

Tory Whanau called for change – but what kind of change would be meaningful and effective?

For the most part, online spaces are unregulated. Rather than being a utopia of free expression, in practice they can be as corrosive to democratic debate as censorship.

But this raises important questions about the limits of speech. Freedom of expression is vital for a healthy democracy, but it is not absolute. It can be limited when it threatens the rights of others.

This includes the right to non-discrimination, freedom from violence, the right to participate in public life, and the free expression of others. Without protections, these rights are at risk.

Legal reform will have to address the structural and cultural drivers of online gender-based violence by strengthening legal protections to

capture coordinated, gendered attacks
ensure social media platforms take rapid and effective action against harassment
and implement codes of conduct for candidates and parties, prohibiting the spread of false or misleading information.

A well designed code of conduct would not restrict robust political debate. Rather, it would set clear expectations for honesty and respect, distinguishing legitimate criticism from targeted abuse and disinformation.

The British government is exploring such regulation in response to rising online abuse of politicians. Importantly, its approach is underpinned by statutory safety duties on social media platforms – obligations New Zealand currently lacks.

Without comparable measures here, the burden largely falls on individuals and councils to respond to abuse, rather than preventing it at its source.

But as well as balancing protection from harm and legitimate debate, it is vital to shift the political culture away from normalising or trivialising abuse.

Online safety training for political parties, councillors and staff, combined with robust public awareness campaigns, will help create an environment where women can participate fully without fear.

Cassandra Mudgway 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.

A ‘lack of ambition’ over livestock emissions targets now threatens NZ’s reputation and trade

2025-10-14T02:08:49Z

New Zealand's Minister of Climate Change Simon Watts Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images

The government’s decision to shrink a legislated target for cutting agricultural methane emissions is the latest in a string of announcements signalling a lack of ambition to meet climate targets.

It represents a major step backwards and could threaten New Zealand’s trade relationships.

The methane reductions mandated under the Zero Carbon Act, passed in a cross-party agreement in 2019, called for cuts in the range of 24-47% below 2017 levels by 2050. This is in line with the findings of an Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change special report that focused on what the world needs to do to keep warming at 1.5°C.

The government’s revised target aims to reduce methane emissions from farm animals by 14-24% by 2050. This means the minimum of the current range will be the highest possible ambition in the new one.

The government has also scrapped an election pledge to tax agricultural emissions, and it has pushed back a legal obligation to respond to the independent Climate Change Commission’s advice on future emissions budgets by two years.

The commission’s recommendation is to strengthen the country’s climate targets, both for long-lived greenhouse gases (carbon dioxide and nitrous oxide) and the short-lived but more potent methane because:

Evidence shows that the world is not on track to limit warming to 1.5°C, climate impacts are more severe and happening sooner than expected, and other countries are already doing more and expecting more.

For biogenic methane, the commission calls for more ambitious cuts to reach at least 35–47% by 2050. However, the government says achieving the upper end of the current range (47%) is “unrealistic” and would create “economic uncertainty, risks exacerbating land use change, and could increase food production costs”.

Pressure from the agriculture sector

The government appointed a review panel to assess how much methane emissions would need to be reduced to achieve “no additional warming” on 2017 levels – the idea being that it is enough for methane’s contribution to warming to remain at current levels.

This approach was promoted by industry lobby groups such as Groundswell but rejected by the Climate Change Commission. And it does not represent the “highest possible ambition”, as laid out in the Paris Agreement, to which New Zealand is a signatory.

It also goes against the 1.5°C goal, entrenched in New Zealand’s legislation and recently upheld by a landmark ruling by the International Court of Justice, which found even countries that leave the Paris Agreement are not exempt from international legal requirements to act in a manner consistent with 1.5°C.

Our trading partners are unlikely to smile on this lack of ambition. The New Zealand-European Union Free Trade Agreement includes the obligation to “refrain from any action or omission that materially defeats the object and purpose of the Paris Agreement”. It also includes the provision that parties may take “appropriate measures” in the event of such acts or omissions.

On top of the weaker ambition on methane reductions, the government recently reopened the country to oil and gas prospecting, removed a subsidy for electric vehicles, and disestablished a fund meant to help decarbonise industry. All moves are counter to the free trade agreement with the EU.

Despite the changes to the 2050 methane target, the 2030 target to reduce agricultural methane emissions by 10% has not changed. However, this will be harder to achieve as no price will be put on agricultural emissions, and the revised 2050 target takes the pressure off farmers.

The revised methane target represents a challenge for other sectors. The Climate Change Commission’s analysis shows that for every percentage point decrease in the ambition of the methane target, up to 44 million tonnes of carbon emissions would need to be offset. This would be either through more offshore credits, more tree plantings, or emissions cuts in other sectors such as transport or energy.

Partnerships and technology

To back the new target, the government says it is investing to speed up the development and rollout of methane-cutting tools. These include innovations such as the EcoPond, which cuts emissions from effluent ponds by more than 90%.

However, emissions from effluent ponds represent only about 10% of New Zealand’s total agricultural emissions because only dairy farms use them. Other possible solutions – including advances in breeding genetics and methane inhibitors – show promise but are not guaranteed to be rolled out in the near future.

Meanwhile, the climate is changing rapidly. We must do all we can to slow warming and avoid impacts from extremes and crossed tipping points.

Yes, cutting carbon dioxide emissions remains a priority, and we must get to zero emissions as soon as possible. But methane emissions are the next most important, and cuts should translate quickly into reductions in atmospheric concentrations (because of the short lifetime of methane), providing a cooling effect in the short to medium term.

The government’s announcement came on the eve of a major international conference on climate change adaptation taking place in New Zealand. This meeting is providing clear evidence of the effects of climate change in New Zealand and across the Pacific and the world, today.

We can currently adapt to climate change pressures, in most places, most of the time. But every tenth of a degree of warming makes that adaptation harder, and at some point we will no longer be able to do so.

There is urgency around reducing emissions of all greenhouse gases, in every sector and every country. New Zealand’s weakened methane target raises the risk of unmanageable consequences from climate change.

James Renwick was a Climate Change Commissioner from 2019 to 2024 but no longer has any affiliations. He was a lead author with the IPCC from 2001 to 2021 but is not involved with the latest assessment report.

Savvy politicians know how to ‘perform’ authenticity – the Jacinda Ardern doco offers a masterclass

2025-10-13T21:00:07Z

GettyImages Lynn Grieveson/Newsroom via Getty Images

There’s a telling moment in the documentary film Prime Minister when Jacinda Ardern reflects on her rapid rise from Labour leader to prime minister, saying she had “no time to redesign myself […] I could only be myself”.

This reference to her “true” self signals a commitment to political authenticity, a thread that runs through the award-winning documentary about Ardern’s remarkable time in office.

But in political communication, authenticity is seldom straightforward. It is primarily understood as a “performance” of self, usually by politicians for voters, and filtered by news and social media.

Skilled politicians – on the right as much as the left – know this. And voters, too, can accept things as simultaneously “real” and manufactured.

By drawing from behind-the-scenes footage shot by Ardern’s partner and producer Clarke Gayford, and from recordings for the Political Diary Oral History Project, Prime Minister is a showcase for certain key strategies of “performed” authenticity.

This is not to say Ardern is “faking it” or that the documentary feels contrived. After all, the goal of the authentic politician is to minimise any differences between their public and private performances of self.

Consistency and ordinariness

In an increasingly mediated world, the desire for authenticity – what is perceived as honest and real – is a powerful social force. From early in her career, Ardern has understood this, presenting herself as relatable and likeable on her popular social media channels.

This consistency is commonly regarded as the central strategy of political authenticity. We see it in the film’s repeated use of footage that captures Ardern’s political values.

There’s her maiden speech to parliament about her passion for social justice, and official speeches and election rallies containing messages of kindness and compassion.

These are reinforced with childhood photos and a car trip down the street where she grew up, allowing Ardern to establish the stability of her inner self.

Conveying a sense of ordinariness is another way to build political authenticity. In Prime Minister, we see Ardern in her slippers and engaging in recognisably ordinary activities, usually involving daughter Neve: feeding, bedtime and kite flying.

The dated backdrop of the family’s private apartment at Government House adds to this impression of the commonplace. So does footage shot in their modest Auckland home, with all the usual mess of family life on display.

Motherhood is the most accessible source of ordinariness in a documentary about Ardern’s prime ministership. And it contrasts with the public events of her time in office – the Christchurch terror attack, Whakaari/White Island and the pandemic – that are so clearly extraordinary.

By regularly interspersing images of a seemingly normal home life with shots of official meetings and state dinners, Prime Minister helps defuse the tension between the ordinary and extraordinary that challenges many politicians in their quest to appear authentic.

Immediacy and intimacy

A perception of authenticity is also supported by an impression of immediacy in political communication – the creation of a shared sense of the “here and now”.

Prime Minister taps into a common cultural experience by including memorable television footage, such as the daily COVID updates. This is reinforced with scenes from Ardern’s current life in the United States, from where she responds to audio recordings made during her prime ministership.

Thanks to Gayford’s home recordings, we also hear about Ardern’s anxiety levels and sleeping problems. The visuals confirm she is tired. These recordings are not always flattering, which adds to their apparent authenticity.

The audience also gains a kind of political backstage pass, watching Ardern prepare to announce the first pandemic lockdown, distribute presents at a staff Christmas party, and attempt to work in her noisy office during the parliamentary protests.

Learning about Ardern’s pregnancy before she officially announces it, and later hearing her joke about wanting to hit opposition leader Simon Bridges after a parliamentary exchange about the Auckland lockdowns, contribute to the sense of intimate access promised by the documentary’s promotional material.

Authenticity to the left and right

All in all, Prime Minister is a compelling performance of political authenticity, complete with its own publicity machine.

But many politicians, from across the ideological spectrum, are working to convince voters of their authenticity in a time when that virtue is under attack from fake news, generative AI and disinformation.

Populist politicians who try to position themselves as “truth tellers” have a particular need to present as authentic. In fact, consistency as a tool of authenticity does not require the steadfastly “positive” attributes exhibited by Ardern in Prime Minister.

Politicians such as Auckland mayor Wayne Brown build authenticity by being consistently abrasive and outspoken.

US President Donald Trump is sometimes described as “consistently inconsistent”. But his rhetoric regularly makes use of the same recognisable words, phrases and inflections, providing regular fodder for comedians and impersonators.

How audiences respond to politicians’ performances of authenticity is ultimately influenced by their political attitudes and party identifications, as well as exposure to political information across different media.

And research shows people who regularly watch mainstream television news and view or follow political candidates’ social media accounts are primed to perceive politicians as more authentic.

But one of the paradoxes of performed authenticity is that audiences can simultaneously perceive communication as “real” while recognising it as a manipulation.

Perhaps authentic politicians are especially alert to this. If you watch Prime Minister, look out for scene where Ardern calls out Gayford for faking the housework.

Susan Fountaine 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.

Reform of NZ’s protected lands is overdue – but the public should decide about economic activities

2025-10-13T19:11:03Z

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The government’s proposed reforms of the rules governing public conservation land aim to dismantle any potential obstacle to “unleashing economic growth” in protected areas.

Currently, about a third of New Zealand’s land is under protection. This ranges from national parks (11.6%) to stewardship areas (9.4%) and conservation parks (5.7%). Twelve other designations make up the rest.

Some commercial activities are permitted – including guided walks, aircraft-based sightseeing, ski fields and animal grazing – and approved by the Department of Conservation as “concessions”.

The proposed changes to the Conservation Act include a review of land designation. The government could delist or swap up to 60% of the current area under protection.

Conservation Minister Tama Potaka said he can’t indicate which designations or locations would be delisted. Nor can he say what percentage of conservation lands would be affected – and where – because changes will be driven by demand for land.

The minister only committed to leaving untouched the designations that are difficult to change: national parks, wilderness areas, reserves and world heritage sites.

The question of whether more economic benefits can be obtained from protected areas is legitimate. New Zealand does need a radical reform of its conservation areas and legislation. There is potential for better social and economic outcomes.

But the proposal consolidates ministerial discretion to unprecedented levels and the government follows a misguided fast-track approach to permitting economic activities such as mining. This could take native biodiversity into dangerous territory.

Outdated conservation laws

New Zealand holds tight to an outdated approach known as “fortress conservation”. This limits commercial opportunities to specific areas, mostly concentrated around established facilities (roads, hotels) and the edges of designated lands. Even when regulating other activities such as energy generation or agriculture, the idea has been to “sacrifice” some spaces and keep as much land as possible “locked up”.

A key reason was that people didn’t know enough about the ecological values of the land. As a proxy, lawmakers relied on the subjective concepts of wilderness values and intrinsic values to justify strict protections over most lands.

Insufficient scientific input meant authorities have relied on “ecologically blind” zoning frameworks, such as a planning tool known as the recreation opportunity spectrum. This divides lands according to recreational opportunities and visitor needs.

But there is a better path forward – one that allows public decision making and honours international commitments, while achieving better ecological and economic benefits.

Towards regulations informed by science

This alternative approach is grounded in three key principles.

First, it uses gap analysis to identify which ecosystems and species are underprotected.

Second, it relies on regulations shaped by ecological knowledge and conservation priorities.

Third, it applies the principles of proportionality and precaution, meaning that regulatory responses should match the severity, reversibility and likelihood of environmental harm. Currently, New Zealand’s regulatory framework does not reflect this.

New Zealand has signed the Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework. This means at least 30% of conservation lands must be representative of most, if not all, native ecosystems by 2030.

At present, coastal, lowland and dryland ecosystems are under-represented. In contrast, alpine and montane environments, are represented way above the recommended threshold (20% of the remaining cover for that ecosystem).

If up to 60% of conservation lands were to be swapped or delisted without prioritising representativeness, vulnerability and rarity, the ecological losses may be immense and irreversible.

Rethinking protection categories

My research develops a broader reform approach. It also reflects growing international consensus on the need for science-informed conservation planning.

I argue New Zealand should set up region-specific and nationwide fora, such as citizen assemblies or consensus conferences. Conversations should focus on specific topics, informed by scientists and iwi.

Vulnerable or under-represented ecosystems currently require stronger protection. Deliberations should indicate which activities should be limited or excluded to better protect such areas.

We must also consider vulnerability to climate change. Scientists expect that ecosystems may migrate outside protected areas.

Consensus should be built around what qualifies as a “significantly over-represented” native ecosystem. Where ecosystems are already well protected and resilient, the public should discuss whether re-designation, land exchanges or even disposals may be appropriate.

If lands are retained, consensus should be sought on the economic uses that can maintain ecological health. If the public doesn’t support land delisting or swaps, alternative strategies must be developed to improve ecological representativeness. Sustainable funding mechanisms should also be identified to support these efforts.

The Department of Conservation should work with independent scientists and iwi to develop a new zoning framework to guide commercial concessions and recreational access. This framework should capture the principles highlighted above.

When applied to each area, it should also enable the mapping of the ecological values feasible to protect. This would help select bespoke regulatory options. In turn, it would balance biodiversity and economic outcomes for each context.

Guidance for these steps should be incorporated in a new national strategy, aligned with domestic goals such as the biodiversity strategy and international commitments.

New Zealand has the expertise for smart reforms. New Zealanders have the passion for nature and patience required to engage in deliberations. But will politicians have the wisdom to avoid a totally unnecessary mutilation of conservation lands, for undefined biodiversity gains?

Valentina Dinica does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

New research challenges the idea of a ‘vicious cycle’ between psychological distress and conspiracy beliefs

2025-10-12T19:14:43Z

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A lot of research has been dedicated to understanding what makes people believe in conspiracies – and how they might be able to climb out of the rabbit hole again.

Conspiracies do happen. The Watergate scandal in the 1970s, which led to the resignation of US President Richard Nixon, is arguably the most infamous example. The questioning of authority and the official narrative is something that should be encouraged.

But some people believe conspiracy theories that are contrary to evidence. Recent research found 8.9% of New Zealand participants and 10.1% of Australian participants agreed with the (false) claim fluoride is being intentionally added to the water supply by the government to make people less intelligent and easier to control.

What draws people to conspiracies like these?

One prominent theory is that conspiracy beliefs are linked to psychological distress such as anxiety and depression.

Our new research explores the causal relationship – whether psychological distress actually makes people more likely to believe in conspiracy theories. We found very limited evidence for a link between elevated distress and conspiracy beliefs.

What research suggests about conspiracy beliefs

The existential threat model of conspiracy theories suggests experiences of psychological distress can make people more likely to develop conspiracy beliefs because they search for explanations for distressing events.

This model argues distress actually worsens once a conspiracy belief is formed, creating a vicious cycle where distress breeds conspiracy belief which, in turn, generates more distress.

The model also suggests this belief is exacerbated when a despised outgroup (political elites, for example) becomes salient as people try to make sense of their experience.

However, few have rigorously tested this claim. While substantial evidence for a correlation between psychological distress and belief in conspiracy theories has been established, correlation does not imply a causal link.

Some analyses of longitudinal data haven’t found evidence to support the hypothesis. But no one has directly tested the claims of the existential threat model.

We set out to do this using a longitudinal survey.

A longitudinal study isn’t as conclusive as a true experiment but it can establish the sequence of cause and effect and rule out some alternative explanations for a relationship.

Our sample consisted of 995 participants with representatives groups from New Zealand, Australia and the United Kingdom. Each month from September 2022 to February 2023, we presented participants with a survey, including 11 conspiracy theories and common measures of anxiety, depression and stress. Each month we asked them about their level of agreement with the conspiracy theories, and their levels of psychological distress.

Prior to collecting the data, we preregistered our hypotheses. These boiled down to the ideas that increased distress of different types (anxiety, depression, stress) will subsequently increase belief in conspiracy theories and that such beliefs will subsequently increase distress.

Rethinking the vicious cycle

We found very limited evidence for elevated distress subsequently increasing belief in conspiracy theories.

We also found no evidence to support the converse – that belief in conspiracy theories increases distress.

Our findings suggest beliefs in conspiracy theories may mostly reflect a relatively stable worldview rather than being driven by temporary changes in distress.

This matters because some researchers have suggested interventions that reduce stress could be used to help reduce conspiracy beliefs. However, if stress is not driving conspiracy beliefs, as our results suggest, this approach is unlikely to be effective.

We also found no evidence that conspiracy beliefs cause short-term distress. This challenges the common assumption that beliefs in conspiracy theories inherently cause harm to one’s mental health, particularly stress, anxiety and depression. That said, conspiracy beliefs could still cause harm in other ways – such as by contributing to the flow of misinformation.

Our research challenges the idea of a vicious cycle of conspiracy beliefs. It appears distress may not have a key role in making people “spiral” down the rabbit hole.

Interventions that foster an analytical mindset or include critical thinking skills may be more useful.

The following research is supported by the Marsden Fund, managed by the Royal Society Te Apārangi.

This study was supported by the Marsden Fund, managed by the Royal Society Te Apārangi.

A landmark conviction for war crimes in Sudan shows the wheels of global justice do turn – albeit slowly

2025-10-09T23:52:14Z

Ali Muhammad Ali Abd-Al-Rahman during his trial in 2023. Koen Van Weel/ANP/AFP via Getty Images

Despite the International Criminal Court (ICC) being under immense pressure right now, its first conviction for crimes in Darfur, and the first for gender-based persecution as a crime against humanity, is a major win.

On October 6, a senior leader of the Sudanese pro-government militia known as the Janjaweed, Ali Muhammad Ali Abd-Al-Rahman, was found guilty on 27 charges of committing war crimes and crimes against humanity. The court rejected his defence of mistaken identity.

From around August 2003, Sudanese government forces and the Janjaweed carried out large-scale attacks on civilians in the Darfur region. This included targeted killings, summary executions, assaults, rapes, theft of livestock and the forced displacement of more than two million people.

The targets of this violence were mostly communities who shared the ethnicity of various rebel groups, and later other Arab and non-Arab tribes.

It has taken over 20 years, but the delivery of justice is a major development for international law, for Sudan and for the ICC itself. The case demonstrates that while the wheels of international criminal justice turn slowly, they do turn.

A milestone conviction

The case marks the first conviction arising out of Darfur, and the first from a referral to the ICC by the United Nations Security Council.

It was also the first investigation of a non-state party, meaning the accused was from a country that hasn’t signed the Rome Statute, the treaty that established the ICC.

Abd-Al-Rahman (sometimes known as Ali Kushayb or Ali Kosheib) was convicted for crimes committed between August 2003 and March 2004. Human Rights Watch published a report in December 2005 calling for accountability.

The ICC started investigating in 2005. An arrest warrant for Abd-Al-Rahman was issued that year, and a second one in 2020. He eventually surrendered himself to the ICC’s custody in 2020 and the trial began in 2022.

There are four other individuals yet to be arrested and tried. Notably, the former president of Sudan, Omar al-Bashir (the first sitting president to be indicted by the ICC), is still at large despite warrants for his arrest issued in 2009 and 2010.

Al-Bashir is wanted on five charges of crimes against humanity: murder, extermination, forcible transfer, torture and rape. He is also accused of genocide, as well as two counts of war crimes, including intentionally directing attacks against a civilian population.

Arrest warrants have also been issued for three former government ministers, with reports that one of them, along with al-Bashir, is in military custody in northern Sudan.

Justice for women and girls

With Sudan not a party to the Rome Statute, the conviction of Abd-Al-Rahman was only possible because the Security Council established an international commission of inquiry on Darfur. This reported that war crimes and crimes against humanity had likely been committed.

The Security Council then referred the Darfur situation to the prosecutor of the ICC as a threat to international peace and security, with the investigation starting on June 6 2005. A “confirmation of charges” hearing was held in May 2021.

This is an important precedent. It demonstrates why the Security Council should use its referral power under Article 13(b) of the Rome Statute to send cases to the ICC, even when accused individuals are from states that don’t want anything to do with the court.

The judges also ruled the attacks caused profound physical, cultural and social harm to women and girl victims. The transcript of the judgment contains harrowing testimony about the Janjaweed’s heinous actions.

This conviction signals the ICC’s commitment to pursuing justice for girls and women who are brutalised during conflicts. It also fulfils one of the goals of the late Cherif Bassiouni, the international law scholar who helped set up the ICC and pushed for a greater focus on punishing rape and gender-based crimes.

The ICC under pressure

Finally, this conviction comes at a time when the ICC itself is under significant pressure, internally and externally.

The court’s chief prosecutor is subject to an internal investigation for sexual misconduct, and the ICC itself was sanctioned by US President Donald Trump in February.

The US has also issued sanctions against the chief prosecutor and individual judges for investigating US forces in Afghanistan, and for issuing arrest warrants against Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and former Israeli Defence Minister Yoav Gallant.

In August, the US went even further, sanctioning two more judges and two deputy prosecutors. This included Nazhat Shameem Khan, who issued statements on behalf of the court in the Darfur case.

In August, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio called the ICC a “national security threat”. The ICC has strongly condemned the sanctions, as have many other organisations and countries.

Nonetheless, with Abd-Al-Rahman’s sentencing still to come, the Darfur case represents a much-needed win for international law and for the ICC. For the victims, however, real justice will have to include a comprehensive and funded plan for compensation and rehabilitation.

Myra Williamson 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.

Why does NZ’s new energy plan sideline renewables and ignore progress made already?

2025-10-09T02:41:40Z

With the public concerned about energy prices and security of supply, the government’s recently released energy package naturally attracted a lot of attention.

The package was criticised for being unlikely to either bring down prices or increase construction for new generation. But it’s just as important we see how much the plan assumes fossil fuels are the only answer, and how little it connects with important reforms already underway.

Last year, the government commissioned an analysis of the performance of electricity markets from international consultancy Frontier Economics. That report was delivered in May this year, but the government withheld it until it had decided what to do.

The report itself was awkward politically (it suggested privatising power companies and amalgamating local distributor companies), and the two peer reviews were very critical. But in the event, final policy choices were very different from Frontier’s recommendations.

The government has signalled a procurement process to build an import facility for liquefied natural gas (LNG). And it has assured the three power companies in which it has a majority stake that it will provide capital for new generation projects.

Rightly, attention has focused on the risk to supply during dry years. Hydro produces about 60% of New Zealand’s electricity, so in prolonged spells of low hydro inflows we use more coal and natural gas.

But the underlying assumption of both the Frontier study and the government’s package is that only thermal generation will see us through a dry year – and by thermal they mean fossil fuels.

Indeed, the Frontier report downplays the role of renewables. It emphasises the unpredictability of wind and solar, and how overbuilt and prohibitively expensive the system would have to be to rely on them.

The government package argues that declining gas reserves and policy uncertainty have left the system exposed, with no reliable source of fuel. That is an exaggeration, but it goes from there to announcing LNG as the solution.

None of this is fair to renewables, or to the work already done on developing renewable solutions.

Renewables are not unreliable

It’s true that wind and solar are intermittent. But they are not unreliable or unpredictable, and a lot of progress has been made on forecasting them accurately for the operation of the electricity system.

New Zealand’s wind resources are very good by international standards, and offshore wind is even better. Wind and solar complement hydro well, and hydro is very reliable, predictable and flexible.

Above all, wind and solar are relatively cheap to build and operate, and they keep getting cheaper. It’s not an accident that for years they have been the technologies of choice for power companies, along with geothermal.

Those companies don’t really want to build expensive new coal or gas-fired plants And if we are serious about our zero carbon targets, nor should the government.

It’s also doubtful LNG imports will be necessary. While natural gas reserves are declining, the inevitable higher prices will be a problem for large users (such as Methanex) that depend on low prices. So there is likely to be enough gas produced domestically for residential and commercial uses, and for electricity generation, for some time yet.

As a result, gas (and coal) can continue to be a proportion (albeit declining) of the electricity mix for “firming” supply and dry-year conditions while the rapid expansion of renewables continues.

Progress is already being made

The other striking thing about the government’s energy package is how little it refers to the large amount of policy and regulatory work already underway to reform the electricity system.

It’s true the government and its main regulator, the Electricity Authority, have been slow to promote real change in the past. But that has all changed.

In 2024, the authority adopted a major collaborative initiative from its Market Development Advisory Group, which mapped out the changes that would lead to a reformed and renewables-dominated power system.

The government issued a government policy statement (the first in 18 years) making its expectations clear and endorsing the advisory group’s report.

The Electricity Authority and the Commerce Commission set up an Energy Competition Task Force, which has pressed forward on a number of regulatory reforms. These are often technical but they are rapidly reshaping the sector.

Overall, this is improving competition, making it easier for wind and solar to enter the market, providing tools to manage intermittency and price spikes, and increasing consumer choice.

I argue this work will deliver better results than many items in the recent energy package. But it needs determined political support and regulation to change practices that have suited the incumbents but failed to deliver for consumers.

There are many other problems to face in energy policy, of course. But the proven merits of renewables and the work already underway to grow their contribution must be central to the continuing debate.

Barry Barton is affiliated with the Environmental Defence Society but writes this on his own behalf.

Protected areas in the Hauraki Gulf nearly triple under a new law – but it comes with a catch

2025-10-08T01:51:09Z

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A new law that almost triples the protected area in the Hauraki Gulf Tīkapa Moana – New Zealand’s largest marine park at more than 1.2 million hectares, surrounding Auckland and the Coromandel peninsula – is something to be celebrated.

But it comes with compromises, and it is especially disappointing that some forms of commercial fishing will continue in some areas.

This week, parliament passed the Hauraki Gulf/Tīkapa Moana Marine Protection Bill into law. It increases areas under some form of protection from 6% to 18% by extending two existing marine reserves and adding 12 high protection areas and five seafloor protection areas.

These new areas add to the diversity of habitats under protection, including under-represented soft sediment ecosystems, and provide new opportunities for customary management. While fishing will be restricted in 18% of the gulf, there is a carve-out for commercial ring-net fishing in high protection areas.

This diminishes their status as protected areas and makes it more difficult for New Zealand to fulfil its promise under the Global Biodiversity Framework to protect 30% of the marine environment by 2030.

We should also recognise this is only a starting point in restoring the mauri (life force) of the gulf. Animals that live in the gulf’s water column remain vulnerable, and given the rate of environmental change in New Zealand’s waters, we need to fast-track the conservation process.

Levels of protection

The new legislation has three forms of protection.

Marine reserves are complete no-take zones. High protection areas (HPAs) allow for restoration activities and provide for customary practices of tangata whenua. Seafloor protection areas (SPAs) protect habitats on the seabed, but they allow for activities that don’t damage them, such as non-bottom fishing.

All three forms of protection share a common theme in restricting large-scale seafloor disturbances from bottom trawling and dredging, large-scale removal of non-living material such as sand, and dumping or discharge of waste.

The protection of the seafloor is critical to preserving the many benefits we gain from its ecosystems, including carbon storage, the processing of excess nutrients, provision of food for fish, and nursery habitats.

HPAs value Māori management and support the restoration of nature and culture. This opens up opportunities to undertake active restoration to accelerate passive recovery. Such activities may include large-scale kina (sea urchin) removal and re-seeding of shellfish populations.

Many of the HPAs are alongside areas where significant restorative efforts are happening on land. This acknowledges land-sea connections and these areas will hopefully become successful examples of what integrated management can achieve.

Lessons from NZ’s oldest marine reserve

The Cape Rodney-Okakari Point (Goat Island) Marine Reserve at Leigh became New Zealand’s first legislated marine reserve 50 years ago.

This reserve, on the north-east coast of the Hauraki Gulf, will quadruple in size under the new law. It has taught us many lessons about how coastal reef ecosystems are affected by human activity and how marine reserves benefit people, including fishers.

For example, we know that marine reserves maintain populations of predators, such as large lobsters and snapper, which stop sea urchins from becoming too abundant and over-grazing coastal kelp forests.

In the protected waters of the Goat Island marine reserve, snapper can grow big and populate other areas across the Hauraki Gulf. Getty Images

The ability to protect large snapper has also demonstrated that size matters in fish reproduction. The marine reserve contributes disproportionately to the snapper population across a large part of the gulf. If this is scaled with the new protection area, it should lead to a more productive fishery that will benefit all.

The expansion of the Cape Rodney-Okarkai Point Marine Reserve and the Te Whanganui-A-Hei Marine Reserve at Hahei will open up new opportunities for learning about connections between reef and soft-sediment habitats and how they influence biodiversity.

Fast-tracking marine conservation

Overfishing, pollution, climate change and invasive species mean marine ecosystems are changing rapidly. Management responses must do so as well.

Successive State of the Gulf Reports have documented the continued decline of its ecosystems. This new legislation builds on decades of efforts to protect the gulf. It follows the 2016 Sea Change/Tai Timu Tai Pari marine spatial plan and the Hauraki Gulf Marine Park Act 2000 which provided special recognition for the gulf but no additional protection.

During times of rapid environmental change, we need strong connections between science, policy and management. Otherwise, we’re at risk of missing the connections and processes responsible for ecological tipping points.

This new law must not be the end to marine protection and restoration of the Hauraki Gulf. Early European settlers reported an abundance of fish, invertebrates, whales and dolphins and we are a long way from these historical baselines.

The new measures protect from some important forms of stress, namely overfishing and seafloor disturbance, but there are many others that continue to affect the gulf, including those that begin on land. Unless we work to substantially reduce the flow of sediment, nutrients and microplastics into the gulf, recovery will be slow.

We also need to remember what these new measures do not protect: the fish, marine mammals and seabirds that live or move through the water column or depend on it.

Our research and experience so far highlights the need to apply systems thinking to the management of marine environments. This means recognising and accounting for the dependencies between the ecological health and economic and social wealth of the Hauraki Gulf.

Conrad Pilditch receives funding from the Department of Conservation, MBIE, regional councils and PROs. He is affiliated with the Mussel Reef Restoration Trust, the Whangateau Catchment Collective and New Zealand Marine Sciences Society.

Simon Francis Thrush receives funding from MBIE and philanthropy. He is affiliated with the Royal Society New Zealand, NZ Marine Sciences Society and Whangateau Harbour Care.

More veg, less meat: the latest global update on a diet that’s good for people and the planet

2025-10-07T00:47:00Z

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A long-awaited expert update on the dietary changes needed to support both human and planetary health comes out clearly in favour of a plant-based approach.

The EAT-Lancet Commission says a shift towards its planetary health diet, released last week, could prevent 40,000 early deaths a day across the world and cut agricultural methane emissions by 15% by 2050.

The diet promotes more vegetables, fruits, whole grains, legumes and nuts, with only modest amounts of meat, fish, poultry and dairy.

If you imagine a plate, half would be filled with vegetables and fruit (with more vegetables than fruit). Most of the remaining half would be whole grains and plant proteins. There’s room for small amounts of animal products and healthy fats, but very little added sugar. Notably, butter doesn’t get a mention.

The most contentious aspect is the commission’s recommendation on meat: just 14 grams per day of red meat and 29 grams per day of poultry – that’s roughly one small steak, one lamb chop, or two chicken drumsticks per week.

New Zealand’s traditional diet is a long way off this recommendation. But my recent study of teenage girls across the country suggests a shift is underway, with most embracing a predominantly plant-based diet.

How we know what’s best to eat

Many factors influence food choices – hunger, emotions, health, culture, media, taste, habits and family traditions.

Evidence-based dietary guidance, such as national food and nutrition guidelines, also plays a role.

In New Zealand, people may be familiar with the “5+ a day” message promoting fruit and vegetable consumption. That recommendation has since shifted to “7+ a day” as new evidence has emerged.

Over the past decade, nutritional guidelines have increasingly incorporated environmental sustainability, acknowledging that around 30% of global emissions come from growing, processing and transporting food.

The EAT-Lancet Commission took this sustainability focus further in its first release of the planetary health diet in 2019. It argued that by changing what we eat, reducing food waste and improving food production systems, we could feed a growing global population while minimising environmental damage.

Less meat is a win-win

This approach is a significant departure from traditional diets in Aotearoa New Zealand. The British-influenced “meat and three veg” (often with potatoes as one of the vegetables) and the Māori hāngi of pork, seafood, kumara and local greens don’t align neatly with the EAT-Lancet recommendations.

One criticism of the original report was its limited consideration of indigenous food systems. In my view, the minimal inclusion of starchy vegetables such as potatoes, cassava, kumara, maize and millet is hard to justify. These are staple foods – affordable, widely available and important sources of energy for many communities.

But most New Zealand adults consume nearly twice the recommended amount of protein. Reducing meat is therefore unlikely to lead to inadequate protein intakes.

Currently, about 40% of New Zealanders’ protein comes from animal sources (meat, dairy, fish). The remaining 60% comes from plants.

The belief that only animal proteins are of high quality – due to their amino acid profile and digestibility – is outdated. It’s a common misconception that some amino acid are only available through meat. Plants contain all essential amino acids, albeit in varying proportions.

For most adults, a diet with smaller amounts of meat would be a win-win: better for their health and better for the planet.

So, should New Zealand embrace the planetary health diet?

In many ways, we already are. My study of teenage girls found those following an omnivorous diet got 69% of their energy from plant-based foods (ranging from 43% to 92%), while vegetarians averaged 83% (ranging from 51% to 100%).

However, New Zealanders still consume more saturated fat than recommended and not enough dietary fibre. Shifting further toward the planetary health diet could help address these imbalances and reduce the risk of premature death from heart disease and cancer, our leading causes of mortality.

A diet for people and the planet

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the meat industry has been pushing back against the commission’s recommendations ever since the first release of the planetary health diet.

A recent report published by the Changing Markets Foundation identifies a network of influential pro-meat voices in industry, academia and governments actively working to discredit the commission’s findings.

Some nutrition academics have raised concerns about the relatively low quantity of meat and fish. Some experts argue the low amount of meat may not meet the nutritional needs of certain groups such as pregnant women and young children, who would benefit from the iron and zinc found in red meat because it is easier to absorb than from vegetable sources.

Adding to the complexity is the global obsession with protein – often associated with meat. While fat and carbohydrates have been vilified, protein enjoys a nutritional halo.

The updated guidelines place greater emphasis on environmental sustainability and, importantly, acknowledge the need to respect and empower diverse food cultures and uphold the universal human right to food.

As we face the twin challenges of climate change and rising rates of diet-related disease, I argue the planetary health diet offers a recipe for a healthier, more sustainable future.

It’s not about eliminating entire food groups or enforcing a one-size-fits-all approach. Rather, it’s about making thoughtful, evidence-based choices that nourish both people and the planet.

Sheila Skeaff receives funding from the Ministry for the Environment for research on food loss and waste. She serves as a trustee on the Otago Farmers Market Trust.

Not voting in local elections is rational. Voters need better reasons to engage

2025-10-06T18:10:04Z

With less than a week until voting in local elections closes, it seems early voter turnout may have increased compared to 2022 – up from 10% of eligible voters to about 18% at the same stage this year.

Still, the final turnout will likely be within the expected range – around 45% across New Zealand, with maybe 35% in Auckland (where the mayoral race had attracted only 10% of eligible voters by late September).

Cue commentators diagnosing the imminent demise of local democracy, followed by their prescribed remedies: the voting system should change, there should be more or less postal voting, local and national elections should be synchronised, schools need more civics education.

But is local democracy really in such parlous straits? My research into regional council democracy suggests otherwise.

On the whole, I’ve found eligible voters who choose not to vote are sensible and not simply apathetic or antidemocratic. After all, more than three-quarters of them (77%) voted in the last general election – they are not switched off.

Rather, they are acting quite rationally. Voting involves costs as well as benefits. Voters have to find out who the candidates are and what they stand for, and then decide who is most likely to deliver on what they promise if elected.

Reading election pamphlets and attending candidate meetings, then making sense of it all, takes time and effort. Voters will therefore only engage if they think the benefits of voting will outweigh the costs, and their own welfare will improve as a result.

On the available evidence, more than half of New Zealand voters think the effort to vote in local elections is unlikely to be worth the return.

Who are we voting for?

General elections are different. Candidates’ party affiliations reduce those voting “costs” because party manifestos set out their political positions and goals.

We might not know the candidates, but we know where their political values lie and how they are likely to vote on issues. Also, we assume some sort of vetting procedure has weeded out the liabilities.

This is not the case in local elections. Historically, New Zealand has preferred to keep overt party politics out of local government – despite the known party connections or affiliations of many supposedly non-aligned candidates.

Typically, only a few national political parties front up in local elections, and then only within a few councils (typically the Greens and Labour, and now ACT in the main centres).

Without much easy political branding to rely on, how are voters to know whether their candidates’ values align with theirs?

Councils publish candidate profiles. But mostly these consist of broad, anodyne statements, often accompanied by a promise to keep rate increases down.

A watchdog group such as Democracy Action can provide further information for voters to compare candidates. But they, too, are limited by candidates’ willingness to provide any information about themselves.

Voters are realistic

But does this matter? It’s impossible to provide an objective measure, but the 45% of eligible voters who do turn out generally deliver credible councillors and mayors – despite some of the very fringe or prank candidates on offer.

Having worked closely with regional, city and district councillors over the years, I remain impressed by their competence and commitment to their councils and citizens.

A few mavericks can make it to the council table, yes. But we could say the same of some backbench MPs in parliament. More than a third of the country’s mayors have now served at least two terms and are seeking another, suggesting their competence is recognised.

Also, and without being cynical, voters know changing councillors is unlikely to alter local body behaviour much. Councils’ discretionary expenditure is extremely limited, with the bulk of their budgets committed to roading and water infrastructure.

The government’s Local Government (System Improvements) Amendment Bill aims to reduce that discretionary spending even more.

Voters wanting lower taxes don’t expect much from local government, either. A two-person household on median incomes pays nearly NZ$40,000 to central government in income tax and GST, compared to just under $4,000 for an average city or district rates bill.

Real issues engage voters

Tertiary students and renters are also unlikely to engage. Most of my students laughed sheepishly when I asked them before the previous local election whether they had voted.

Neither group has skin in the game: they don’t pay rates (their landlords do), and quite possibly they will have finished a degree and left town before they can enjoy any benefits from a change in council representation.

This may help explain why smaller councils have much higher voter turnouts than large metropolitan areas, such as south Auckland, with high numbers of renters and young people.

None of this is meant as an excuse for tolerating less democracy. In fact, as my research has shown, when a local controversy or crisis emerges, voters do engage.

In the previous election, flood management on the West Coast, Wellington’s public transport problems and Canterbury’s water pollution issues all galvanised voters for the affected councils.

Here’s a prediction: when the full ratepayer bill for the central government’s “Local Water Done Well” infrastructure policy comes through, the 2029 local government elections will become more engaging contests and turnout will increase.

It’s too early to write off local democracy just yet.

Jeffrey McNeill 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.

Nicola Willis is right: NZ’s economy isn’t as bad as the ‘merchants of misery’ claim

2025-10-05T18:38:58Z

Finance Minister Nicola Willis. Getty Images

Finance Minister Nicola Willis has called them the “merchants of misery”, but critics of her government’s economic performance doubled down when the June quarter GDP figures showed a contraction in many sectors.

No government or finance minister can be expected to make flawless decisions, of course. But blaming the current state of the economy on Willis’ leadership ignores aspects of the bigger picture.

Since the National-led coalition took office nearly two years ago, New Zealand’s economy has gone through a necessary and deliberate transition: from overheated and inflation-plagued to a more stable, long-term footing.

Not all the news is good, but progress has been made.

Inflation tamed, stability regained

Two years ago, consumer price inflation was running at 6% and higher. Food inflation alone had peaked at a staggering 12.5%.

Today, inflation has been brought down to 2.7%, which is within the Reserve Bank’s 1–3% target range (albeit near the top). Food inflation is down to 5%.

These outcomes aren’t accidental but rather the result of monetary policy, including high interest rates and disciplined fiscal management, with significant changes to the trajectory of government expenditures.

The current account deficit has also been significantly reduced, from 7.5% of GDP to 3.7%. This signals a healthier balance between what we consume and what we produce.

Part of the improvement is due to stronger commodity prices. But the broader picture tells us domestic demand is now more aligned with our productive capacity.

Economic activity is down

And yet, other numbers are sobering: GDP is 1.2% lower than it was in June 2023. On a per capita basis, it is 2.8% lower.

The unemployment rate has risen from about 4% to 5.2%. Productivity has also declined across several key sectors.

Average house prices, as measured by the QV Index, are now more than NZ$100,000 below their peak in early 2022. Of course, this also represents progress in making housing more affordable.

The legacy of stagflation

New Zealand entered a period of “stagflation” under the previous Labour-led governments. This is a toxic mix of high inflation, stagnant or declining output, and rising unemployment.

It is one of the most difficult economic conditions to manage, because the usual tools of economic policy work against each other. Lowering interest rates might boost growth, but worsens inflation. Cutting inflation might worsen unemployment.

Stagflation does not appear overnight, but is the product of several years of poor macroeconomic management, often triggered or worsened by external shocks.

In New Zealand’s case, that included a combination of aggressive fiscal stimulus during the COVID pandemic, monetary policy mistakes (not raising interest rates sooner, for example), supply chain disruptions, tight labour markets, and global energy price shocks.

A government can’t control all of these factors, but the previous governments did little to address underlying structural weaknesses, particularly low productivity and persistent current account deficits.

By the time the current government took office, the stagflationary spiral was already well underway.

A long road out

Exiting stagflation is not quick, nor is it painless. Research and historical example (including the United States in the 1970s) suggest it often takes several years of disciplined, coordinated policy to unwind the effects, partly because economic policies only work with long lags.

The first and most important step is to restore price stability. This is where the Reserve Bank’s single mandate to control inflation comes into play, with a high but now declining official cash rate, down from 5.5% in 2023-24 to 3% now.

One-year mortgage rates are also easing, down from 6.9% to 4.9% over the same period, providing some relief to households.

The second component is fiscal policy. The government deficit has increased slightly, from $7.2 billion to $10 billion, but has been put on a credible path toward long-term consolidation.

The government has committed to reducing the debt burden and ensuring spending is targeted and effective.

There is a trade-off here: tightening fiscal policy too quickly risks deepening the recession, while waiting too long could undermine inflation control. The government appears to be navigating the course carefully.

The third pillar is structural, supply-side reform. Improving productivity requires tackling long-standing regulatory bottlenecks, removing barriers to trade, and fast-tracking infrastructure and housing development.

The government has moved to address some of this with regulatory reviews, a housing construction growth programme and resource management reform.

While the effects will take time to become fully apparent, these strategies play an important role in supporting potential output growth and keeping future inflation in check. Macroeconomic rebalancing is not a popularity contest. It is a matter of timing, sequencing, managing expectations and maintaining credibility.

It may be politically opportunistic to blame the government entirely for the current economic situation. But it also ignores the hangover from stagflation, and signs of recovery.

Dennis Wesselbaum is an Adjunct Fellow of the New Zealand Initiative and an Affiliate at Motu Research.

Who wrote the cabinet paper recommending NZ not recognise a Palestinian state?

2025-10-03T00:46:30Z

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In the controversy and debate following Foreign Minister Winston Peters’ announcement at the United Nations last week that New Zealand would not yet recognise Palestine as a state, it was easy to overlook a small but telling detail.

The relevant cabinet paper containing the policy background and options, and recommending no change in the country’s current position, was “drafted by the Office of the Minister of Foreign Affairs”.

It is unusual for a cabinet paper to be drafted in a minister’s office. Typically, they are worked up by public servants in departments that fall within the minister’s portfolio responsibilities.

While not a “one size fits all” process, this division of labour ensures the institutional knowledge of the public service is drawn on when formulating the analysis, advice and recommendations codified in a cabinet paper.

The “voice” of the minister may be paramount, but other voices – whether from the public service, other parties involved in government, or wider stakeholders – will generally be captured.

That the normal process was not followed in this instance raises important questions about who drafts policy advice and how ministers balance the views being put forward.

Ministers and ministries

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade (MFAT) possesses the expertise to provide advice on the issues canvassed in the Palestine paper. And while it is clear ministry input was sought, the details of that contribution are not specified.

Policy positions in foreign affairs tend to have an enduring quality and often enjoy cross-party support. But it is also possible there was a material difference between the course of action recommended by the ministry and that preferred by the minister.

No one is suggesting a minister is a mere conduit for ministry positions. But surfacing any differences in the text of a paper is considered best practice.

To be fair, the paper in question was “proactively released” publicly by the minister. A spokesperson for the minister has confirmed that both employees of MFAT seconded to the Minister’s office, and Ministerial Services staff on events-based contracts, were involved in the drafting and preparation of this paper.

It is the contribution of the second of those categories of staff that is relevant here. Otherwise known as ministerial advisers, they operate differently to public servants employed in government ministries and departments.

It is not unusual for these advisers to contribute to the processes from which cabinet papers emerge: they are, these days, key actors in the sorts of consultations required by multi-party government.

Ministerial advisers are also influential members of a minister’s staff. They are appointed at a minister’s behest, and are formally employed by the Ministerial and Secretariat Services unit within the Department of Internal Affairs on events-based contracts tied to a minister’s tenure in office.

Crucially, they provide partisan or political advice and are not subject to the impartiality requirements that apply to public servants.

There is an important place for such advisers in ministerial offices. But there are also questions about the balance ministers strike between the advice provided by political appointees and that furnished by public servants.

Moreover, there are issues with how the role is regulated in New Zealand – and how difficult it can be to find out anything about these influential political players.

NZ is an outlier

Every other Westminster democracy has clear transparency requirements for political staff. In the United Kingdom, the government must report annually on the total number of political (or “special”) advisers, and the overall public cost of employing them.

Government departments must regularly publish the names of special advisers, the ministers they work for, their job titles and salary bands, and details of their meetings with senior media figures.

Furthermore, advisers themselves must make annual declarations of financial and non-financial interests that might conflict with their public duties.

Canadian government departments are required to disclose the names, roles and responsibilities of what are known as “exempt staff”, as well as salary ranges, benefits and entitlements. Exempt staff must disclose assets, liabilities and outside activities (which are reviewed by the Office of the Conflict of Interest and Ethics Commissioner).

While Australia is not as transparent as Canada or the UK, it requires each federal government minister to report, twice a year, the number of political staff they employ and their salary level. That information must be tabled in parliament by the Senate Finance and Public Administration Estimates Committee.

None of these requirements applies in New Zealand, which is an outlier on proactive release of information about political staff who work at the heart of government.

The retired British Labour politician Clare Short once described these special advisers as “the people who live in the dark”.

Ultimately, while it seems clear ministerial advisers were involved in drafting the cabinet paper on New Zealand’s options regarding Palestinian statehood, the real questions are about transparency and accountability in general.

Beyond the specifics of this case, it’s time New Zealand’s system of governance let in a little more light.

Chris Eichbaum has worked as a public servant in Wellington and Canberra, as a prime ministerial office adviser to three NZ prime ministers, and as a ministerial adviser to a senior minister. He is a member of the NZ Labour Party.

Richard Shaw 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.

‘Spooky action at a distance’ – a beginner’s guide to quantum entanglement and why it matters in the real world

2025-10-02T03:08:24Z

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Many governments and tech companies are investing heavily in quantum technologies. In New Zealand, the recently announced Institute for Advanced Technology is also envisioned to focus on this area of research.

As quantum technologies develop, we argue quantum literacy becomes essential for informed discussions and policy on their potentially profound societal implications.

Quantum technologies build on quantum mechanics, a fundamental theory that explains the structure of matter and has enabled the design of many useful devices such as transistors, microchips and lasers.

The term “quantum” comes from German physicist Max Planck, who proposed that energy can only come in discrete packets, or quanta.

When atoms absorb or emit energy quanta, they transition between quantised energy levels. New technologies use the quantum nature of such levels to develop super-fast computers, precision sensors and improved encryption.

One of the key ingredients in almost any kind of quantum tech is the phenomenon known as “quantum entanglement”. It has really bizarre implications which Albert Einstein once called “spooky action at a distance”. Among non-physicists, it typically raises consternation or fascination.

Concepts of quantum mechanics are sometimes incorporated – and in the process occasionally misappropriated – in popular culture.

Entanglement has not been spared this fate. Some science fiction writers are using it as a device for making the impossible seem plausible.

For example, in Liu Cixin’s 2008 novel Three Body Problem, an alien civilisation uses pairs of entangled particles to maintain faster-than-light (super-luminal) communications with Earth. To be clear, this is impossible.

Quantum entanglement can’t beat the speed-of-light limit, but it can still make some wild things work. This includes quantum-enhanced sensors to improve applications in medicine and environmental monitoring, and in precision measurements such as the gravitational wave detector LIGO in the United States.

Quantum computers could also crack certain problems that are practically unsolvable on a classical computer, such as modelling the mechanics of how proteins fold.

And quantum cryptography would protect information better by providing eavesdropper-proof encryption protocols – while also being able to detect earthquakes on the side.

The wild quantum world

Entanglement works only with quantum things and emerges most clearly when there are only two energy levels.

Classical computers store information in bits, where each bit can be either 0 or 1. In a quantum computer, the bits are replaced by “qubits”, each having two energy levels which are usually denoted as |0⟩ and |1⟩.

Unlike the classical bit, a qubit can be in a “superposition”, meaning it can be both |0⟩ and |1⟩, until an observer checks the qubit state.

This measurement yields either 0 or 1, depending on the relative share of the states |0⟩ and |1⟩ in the superposition. If the result is 0, the qubit state after the measurement becomes |0⟩. Likewise, if the result is 1, the state becomes |1⟩.

To discuss entanglement, we need to consider at least two qubits in an entangled state. We use the state described mathematically as |Φ⁺⟩ (see figure below).

Let’s imagine two quantum engineers, who we named Alice and Bob in our illustration. Each takes one qubit from the pair and travels somewhere far apart. When they measure their qubits, they’ll both obtain a 0 or a 1 with equal probability.

If they repeat this experiment with many other entangled qubit pairs prepared in the same |Φ⁺⟩ state and record their results, both will find a random series of 0s and 1s.

But when they compare their lists, they will find something astounding: every time Alice measures a 0, Bob will have also measured 0 for his corresponding qubit, and vice versa. The results are perfectly correlated, even though both their states are undetermined prior to the measurement.

Measuring many entangled qubit pairs, all in the state |Φ+⟩, results in a perfectly correlated random series of 0s and 1s. Authors provided, CC BY-SA

It is as if, when Alice makes her measurement, Bob’s qubit instantaneously “knows” and changes into the same state.

Einstein was so bothered by this non-intuitive behaviour that he strongly believed quantum mechanics must be incomplete, and that a better theory would contain hidden variables that determine the outcome of the measurements before the pair is even separated.

However, experiments in the 1980s have definitively ruled out such local hidden-variable theories. For their demonstration that Einstein was wrong, three physicists were awarded the Nobel Prize in 2022.

New Zealand’s contribution

We have illustrated entanglement using pairs of qubits. But fundamentally, entanglement can occur between all kinds of physical systems, and this is where New Zealand researchers are making significant contributions.

Superconductors are materials that have zero electrical resistance when cooled below a certain temperature and at the same time expel magnetic fields. They are useful for making strong magnets.

To make a metal superconducting, the electrons form entangled pairs, known as Cooper pairs. A research team involving one of us has recently proposed a scheme to extract entangled electron pairs from the superconductor and transfer their entanglement onto photons, the quanta of light.

Another research group has successfully entangled two atoms cooled to almost absolute zero.

To expand research and build an industry based on quantum technologies, we need targeted investment to establish a quantum-ready workforce. Not only must we actively contribute to and capitalise on the global quantum effort, we also have to lift quantum literacy at all levels of society – starting in school.

Michele Governale receives funding from the MacDiarmid Institute for Advanced Materials and Nanotechnology.

Ulrich Zuelicke receives funding from Te Whai Ao - Dodd-Walls Centre for Photonic and Quantum Technologies.

Jane Goodall, the gentle disrupter whose research on chimpanzees redefined what it meant to be human

2025-10-01T19:12:37Z

Jane Goodall appears on stage at 92NY in New York on Oct. 1, 2023. Charles Sykes/Invision/AP

Anyone proposing to offer a master class on changing the world for the better, without becoming negative, cynical, angry or narrow-minded in the process, could model their advice on the life and work of pioneering animal behavior scholar Jane Goodall.

Goodall’s life journey stretches from marveling at the somewhat unremarkable creatures – though she would never call them that – in her English backyard as a wide-eyed little girl in the 1930s to challenging the very definition of what it means to be human through her research on chimpanzees in Tanzania. From there, she went on to become a global icon and a United Nations Messenger of Peace.

Until her death on Oct. 1, 2025 at age 91, Goodall retained a charm, open-mindedness, optimism and wide-eyed wonder that are more typical of children. I know this because I have been fortunate to spend time with her and to share insights from my own scientific career. To the public, she was a world-renowned scientist and icon. To me, she was Jane – my inspiring mentor and friend.

Despite the massive changes Goodall wrought in the world of science, upending the study of animal behavior, she was always cheerful, encouraging and inspiring. I think of her as a gentle disrupter. One of her greatest gifts was her ability to make everyone, at any age, feel that they have the power to change the world.

Jane Goodall documented that chimpanzees not only used tools but make them – an insight that altered thinking about animals and humans.

Discovering tool use in animals

In her pioneering studies in the lush rainforest of Tanzania’s Gombe Stream Game Reserve, now a national park, Goodall noted that the most successful chimp leaders were gentle, caring and familial. Males that tried to rule by asserting their dominance through violence, tyranny and threat did not last.

I also am a primatologist, and Goodall’s groundbreaking observations of chimpanzees at Gombe were part of my preliminary studies. She famously recorded chimps taking long pieces of grass and inserting them into termite nests to “fish” for the insects to eat, something no one else had previously observed.

It was the first time an animal had been seen using a tool, a discovery that altered how scientists differentiated between humanity and the rest of the animal kingdom.

Renowned anthropologist Louis Leakey chose Goodall to do this work precisely because she was not formally trained. When she turned up in Leakey’s office in Tanzania in 1957, at age 23, Leakey initially hired her as his secretary, but he soon spotted her potential and encouraged her to study chimpanzees. Leakey wanted someone with a completely open mind, something he believed most scientists lost over the course of their formal training.

Because chimps are humans’ closest living relatives, Leakey hoped that understanding the animals would provide insights into early humans. In a predominantly male field, he also thought a woman would be more patient and insightful than a male observer. He wasn’t wrong.

Six months in, when Goodall wrote up her observations of chimps using tools, Leakey wrote, “Now we must redefine tool, redefine Man, or accept chimpanzees as human.”

Goodall spoke of animals as having emotions and cultures, and in the case of chimps, communities that were almost tribal. She also named the chimps she observed, an unheard-of practice at the time, garnering ridicule from scientists who had traditionally numbered their research subjects.

One of her most remarkable observations became known as the Gombe Chimp War. It was a four-year-long conflict in which eight adult males from one community killed all six males of another community, taking over their territory, only to lose it to another, bigger community with even more males.

Confidence in her path

Goodall was persuasive, powerful and determined, and she often advised me not to succumb to people’s criticisms. Her path to groundbreaking discoveries did not involve stepping on people or elbowing competitors aside.

Rather, her journey to Africa was motivated by her wonder, her love of animals and a powerful imagination. As a little girl, she was entranced by Edgar Rice Burroughs’ 1912 story “Tarzan of the Apes,” and she loved to joke that Tarzan married the wrong Jane.

When I was a 23-year-old former NFL cheerleader, with no scientific background at that time, and looked at Goodall’s work, I imagined that I, too, could be like her. In large part because of her, I became a primatologist, co-discovered a new species of lemur in Madagascar and have had an amazing life and career, in science and on TV, as a National Geographic explorer.
When it came time to write my own story, I asked Goodall to contribute the introduction. She wrote:

“Mireya Mayor reminds me a little of myself. Like me she loved being with animals when she was a child. And like me she followed her dream until it became a reality.”

In a 2023 interview, Jane Goodall answers TV host Jimmy Kimmel’s questions about chimpanzee behavior.

Storyteller and teacher

Goodall was an incredible storyteller and saw it as the most successful way to help people understand the true nature of animals. With compelling imagery, she shared extraordinary stories about the intelligence of animals, from apes and dolphins to rats and birds, and, of course, the octopus. She inspired me to become a wildlife correspondent for National Geographic so that I could share the stories and plights of endangered animals around the world.

Goodall inspired and advised world leaders, celebrities, scientists and conservationists. She also touched the lives of millions of children.

Jane Goodall and primatologist Mireya Mayor with Mayor’s book ‘Just Wild Enough,’ a memoir aimed at young readers. Mireya Mayor, CC BY-ND

Through the Jane Goodall Institute, which works to engage people around the world in conservation, she launched Roots & Shoots, a global youth program that operates in more than 60 countries. The program teaches children about connections between people, animals and the environment, and ways to engage locally to help all three.

Along with Goodall’s warmth, friendship and wonderful stories, I treasure this comment from her: “The greatest danger to our future is our apathy. Each one of us must take responsibility for our own lives, and above all, show respect and love for living things around us, especially each other.”

It’s a radical notion from a one-of-a-kind scientist.

This article has been updated to add the date of Goodall’s death.

Mireya Mayor does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Why investment in clean indoor air is vital preparation for the pandemics and climate emergencies to come

2025-10-01T18:39:23Z

Phil Walter/Getty Images

Each day, we breathe more than 7,000 litres of air. Unsurprisingly, the quality of this air really matters. And given most of us spend a significant part of the day inside, clean indoor air is essential.

It keeps us alert and focused and protects us from the harmful effects of air pollution, including cancers and asthma. It can also slow the spread of respiratory infections through the community.

During last week’s 80th United Nations General Assembly, indoor air experts launched the first international effort to formally recognise clean indoor air as essential to health.

The global pledge for healthy indoor air, championed by the Australian Academy of Science and the Burnet Institute, one of the country’s leading medical research groups, has already been signed by more than 150 organisations. It represents a landmark in building a global community to demand better indoor air conditions.

Australia leadership in initiating the pledge is in stark contrast to New Zealand, which is not active on the global stage and as yet has no indoor air agency, strategy or national standards.

Clean air is as important as clean water

The COVID pandemic has accelerated understanding of the importance of healthy indoor air and how to achieve it.

There is compelling evidence of the value of healthy indoor air. On the flip side, we also have evidence of the cost of inaction, estimated to be in the billions of dollars from the loss of health and productivity.

Clean air is a universal health protection, just like clean drinking water.

It was once common for major cities such as London to experience cholera epidemics. But public health initiatives during the 19th century to separate drinking water from wastewater ensured there was no way for cholera to spread.

Thanks to the foresight and persistence of those early pioneers of public health, a cholera epidemic would be unthinkable in London today. What’s more, high-income countries have no need to fear other waterborne outbreaks. Effective prevention is already hardwired into cities and communities.

The enduring benefits of being able to control the risk of waterborne infectious disease outbreaks suggest prevention of airborne epidemics and pandemics should be a logical next step.

The human and financial cost of respiratory infections is colossal, with an estimated cost of influenza at US$11.2 billion in the United States alone. For respiratory infections other than influenza, the yearly cost (in the US) stands at $40 billion.

We are well overdue for a shift in the perception that we cannot afford better ventilation systems. We need to follow the example of the 19th-century investment in clean water, this time to clean the air.

Pandemic preparedness

Investment in clean indoor air is vital preparation for the pandemics and climate emergencies to come. Indeed, since future pandemics are highly likely to be airborne, countries can measure their pandemic and climate preparedness in terms of how well, or otherwise, they are able to clean the air in public settings.

The global scorecard is in poor shape: every year, multiple viruses spread unchecked in schools, workplaces and healthcare settings.

Every COVID wave and winter flu season is a reminder of vulnerability to a new pandemic; every wildfire highlights the escalating threats to the quality of the air we breathe.

Once we experience the benefits of clean indoor air – imagine getting through winter without needing to take time off work or school – we’ll never want to go back.

But where to begin? Here are three principles to start translating evidence into meaningful action.

1. To improve indoor air, governments need to take a strategic approach with clearly articulated priorities and timelines. We cannot solve poor quality of indoor air everywhere at once.

A good starting point for respiratory infections, for example, would be to direct resources to the places where people gather every day to work, learn and access healthcare.

2. Healthy indoor air needs to be recognised for what it is: a human right and essential protection for population health. This means setting mandatory indoor air standards for buildings, including housing, and establishing national agencies to implement them.

There must be accountability. We know recommendations and guidelines aren’t enough to deliver safe drinking water, and the same applies to clean air.

3. We need to lead from the community, too, and identify clean air champions. Young people are already taking up the challenge. Schools and workplaces have a responsibility to protect the health of everyone who visits or attends. They need appropriate resources to meet that responsibility.

Occupational protections and citizen science initiatives can focus collective action to clean the air, one office or classroom at a time. Each action, no matter how small, becomes a building block of our everyday public health infrastructure, our pandemic preparedness and our climate response.

The authors acknowledge the contribution by Bronwyn King AO from the Burnet Institute.

The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

What Trump’s Gaza peace plan means for NZ’s stance on Palestinian statehood

2025-09-30T21:36:24Z

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The situation in the Middle East is moving exceptionally fast. New Zealand and the international community had barely digested the debate about Palestinian statehood before United States President Donald Trump presented a 20-point peace plan for Gaza.

There are good reasons to be sceptical about the plan’s success, given the actors involved and the lack of trust on all sides. But from New Zealand’s perspective there are positive aspects contained within it, including:

the proposed ceasefire and immediate release of hostages held by Hamas and a large number of prisoners held by Israel, followed by the independently verified demilitarisation of Hamas
the return of full humanitarian assistance and essential civil services, with aid distributed through the United Nations and its agencies, the Red Crescent and other neutral international institutions
the pledge that “no one will be forced to leave Gaza, and those who wish to leave will be free to do so and free to return”.

These and other points in the plan all dovetail with the conditions called for by the countries that have recently recognised Palestinian statehood, including Britain, Australia and Canada.

They also match New Zealand’s demands, despite the government’s decision not to recognise a Palestinian state. But things become less clear in the proposal to create and deploy an “International Stabilization Force” in Gaza.

Driven primarily by the US, in consultation with Egypt and Jordan, there will also be a role for “international partners” to help train and provide support to “vetted Palestinian police forces”.

The obvious question is whether New Zealand will be asked to help, and whether it will agree to.

Similarly, the proposal to put Gaza under the “temporary transitional governance of a technocratic, apolitical Palestinian committee”, supervised by a “Board of Peace” headed and chaired by Trump (with former British prime minister Tony Blair a member), is very vague.

We don’t know how much of a closed shop this board will be, or whether membership might stretch as far as New Zealand’s former leaders.

What’s missing in the plan

But one positive aspect of this proposal is that it would last only until “such time as the Palestinian Authority has completed its reform program” – code for new elections, guaranteed civil liberties and improved governance.

This too dovetails with the official New Zealand view on the Palestinian Authority, and the pledge “to continue to do our part to strengthen its capability”.

But the problem of Israel’s occupation of Palestinian territory remains real. The plan states Israel will not occupy or annex Gaza, but Trump’s apparent promise that he will not let Israel annex the West Bank is not in the 20 points.

Nor is there any discussion of how to deal with the ramping up of illegal Israeli settlements in the West Bank. New Zealand agrees with the International Court of Justice (ICJ) ruling that Israel’s continued presence there is unlawful.

On the other side, New Zealand may also have a problem with the Trump plan’s proposal that Hamas members who lay down their weapons and pledge peaceful coexistence may be granted amnesty. This assumes there will be no accountability for any war crimes that may have been committed.

And not only is there no commitment to hold Israel to account for war crimes, but the Palestinian Authority will have to drop all involvement in the cases being taken against the US or Israel at the ICJ and the International Criminal Court (ICC).

This is a problem because New Zealand, like many countries, wants international humanitarian law to be upheld by the ICC.

And while New Zealand has not joined the growing list of countries seeking a definitive determination by the ICJ on whether genocide has been committed in Gaza, many other nations want a final answer and accountability.

When, not if

Finally, the Trump plan holds out the possibility of a two-state solution to the overall impasse in Israel-Palestine, which has now been on the table for nearly eight decades.

Keeping that possibility alive was one of the motivations for other countries recognising Palestinian statehood. New Zealand took a different view, arguing recognition has to be contingent on real progress towards a comprehensive political settlement.

Trump may now have delivered some prospect of that, promising that “while Gaza redevelopment advances and when the Palestinian Authority reform program is faithfully carried out, the conditions may finally be in place for a credible pathway to Palestinian self-determination and statehood”.

However, this also blurs the timeline, imposes difficult conditions and then only offers a possibility of this happening. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is on the record as saying “there will be no Palestinian state”.

New Zealand has always maintained that recognition of Palestinian statehood is a matter of “when, not if”. Given this latest plan, and with the chance the brutal conflict might now abruptly end, it may be time to reconsider exactly what is meant by “when”.

Alexander Gillespie 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.

AI in the classroom is hard to detect – time to bring back oral tests

2025-09-30T00:00:01Z

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News that several New Zealand universities have given up using detection software to expose student use of artificial intelligence (AI) underlines the challenge higher education is facing.

With AI tools such as ChatGPT now able to produce essays, reports and case studies in seconds, the old assessment model is breaking down. For decades, that model was valued for testing not just knowledge, but also analysis, argumentation and communication.

Now, however, its reliability is under pressure. If a machine can generate a plausible essay on demand, how can we be sure we are assessing a student’s own understanding and reasoning?

We have been exploring another way forward. Instead of doubling down on plagiarism software, we have gone back to something surprisingly simple: talking to students.

For the past two years, we have been running “interactive oral assessments” (IOAs). They are proving to be one of the most effective and authentic ways to see what students really know in the age of AI.

Think of it as a structured conversation. Students meet with a lecturer or tutor, individually or in a small group, and answer questions about work they have already submitted.

Examiners do not just check for memorised facts. Using the Socratic method of questioning, they probe the reasoning behind students’ answers, drawing out genuine understanding rather than rehearsed responses.

It is not a performance or a speech. Because the questions are tailored to each student and unfold in real time, IOAs are difficult to outsource: a chatbot may produce text, but it cannot sustain a probing conversation about your own work.

Face-to-face assessment

We first trialled IOAs in a postgraduate marketing course with 42 students. Each sat a seven-minute conversation based on their course work. The grading guide covered both content (do they understand the concepts?) and communication (can they explain clearly and logically?).

The results were encouraging. Where grades had previously skewed toward the upper range under written assessment, likely reflecting increased AI assistance on take-home assignments, IOAs produced a more balanced spread of marks across grade bands.

Students reported the process felt fairer, and lecturers heard richer demonstrations of understanding and critical thinking. One lecturer put it neatly:

The dialogue revealed what students actually understood, rather than what they could memorise or outsource.

To ensure nerves did not get in the way, we built practice runs into tutorials during the semester so expectations were clear long before the final assessment.

Running one-on-one conversations for hundreds of students isn’t realistic, so we adapted the format. In larger undergraduate courses with over 200 students, we run IOAs in group settings: students attend together, but each answers individually.

We also use multiple assessors running simultaneous IOA sessions. This lets us assess large cohorts in the same timeframe as a traditional exam without overloading a single lecturer or tutor.

This model has two big advantages: logistics are manageable and anxiety is reduced. Seeing peers go through the same process normalises the experience. The group format still preserves the essence of the IOA.

Back to the future?

Two years in, clear patterns have emerged. IOAs reveal qualities written exams and essays often mask. Students must explain, apply and defend their ideas in real time, so we can see whether they truly grasp the material, not just whether they can structure an essay or reproduce text.

Importantly, IOAs also develop work-ready skills: clear communication, critical thinking and defending a position under questioning. These abilities are needed in interviews, client meetings and professional discussions. As one student said:

It felt like a job interview, not just an exam.

IOAs are not effort-free. Examiners benefit from training in how to ask probing yet fair questions, and in applying grading guides consistently, especially when student and session numbers increase.

Scheduling and recording at scale requires careful planning, from coordinating rooms to examiner availability and recording options. With the right support, however, these challenges are manageable.

IOAs are not a silver bullet, but they are a promising response to the realities of AI. They make it harder to outsource work, help staff see genuine understanding, and give students practice in the kinds of discussions that dominate modern workplaces.

In many ways, IOAs take us back to the future: they revive the oldest oral form of examination, reimagined for today’s classrooms. Crucially, they do more than safeguard academic integrity, they build the capabilities employers expect.

If universities want to prepare students for the real world while protecting the credibility of their courses, it may be time to do what seems counterintuitive: stop writing and start talking.

By not recognising a Palestinian state, NZ puts its own hard-won reputation on the line

2025-09-29T00:10:03Z

Leonardo Munoz/AFP via Getty Images

There seems to be a mismatch between what a UN inquiry recently described as genocide in Gaza and New Zealand’s announcement at the United Nations on Saturday that it will not yet join 157 other countries in recognising a Palestinian state.

The government decision, relayed by Foreign Minister Winston Peters at the UN General Assembly, was welcomed by Israel’s ambassador to New Zealand, who claimed recognition of a Palestinian state legitimises Hamas – a designated terrorist organisation.

On the other hand, former Labour prime minister Helen Clark said, “New Zealand has placed itself very much on the wrong side of history”. She said the government’s position overall was “confusing”.

In practice, the stance of the National-led coalition has certainly been ambiguous. It has called for a lasting ceasefire in Gaza, reiterated its support for a two-state solution, and repeatedly said recognition of a Palestinian state is a question of “when not if”.

However, in January 2024, it also agreed to a small Defence Force deployment as part of a United States-led coalition against Houthi rebel attacks on shipping in the Red Sea, despite the US using its Security Council veto to prevent a ceasefire in Gaza.

Equally striking was the government’s relative silence on President Donald Trump’s proposal in February this year to extinguish the prospect of a two-state solution by taking ownership of Gaza and effectively evicting two million Palestinian residents from the territory.

It also had little to say about the US-Israeli venture to start the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation in late May, a controversial move that sidelined the UN in aid distribution and has led to the killing of more than 1,000 Palestinians while seeking food.

And then in June, along with the United Kingdom, Australia, Canada and Norway, the government imposed sanctions on two far-right Israeli government ministers, Bezalel Smotrich and Itamar ben Gvir for “inciting extremist violence” against Palestinians.

That decision was strongly criticised by the Trump administration, but it seemed to signal the New Zealand position (along with that of its close allies) was hardening.

In August, Prime Minister Christopher Luxon declared Israel’s military assault on Gaza City was “utterly unacceptable”, and said Israeli Prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu had “lost the plot”.

None of which, we now know, was enough to convince the government to follow other liberal democracies such as Australia, Canada, the UK, France and Portugal in recognising Palestinian statehood.

NZ’s reputation on the line

The political reasoning, according to Peters, is that while Hamas remains the de facto government of Gaza and “with a war raging”, there is no viable Palestinian state to recognise.

According to the prime minister, this was a “balanced” decision and consistent with an independent foreign policy. But it can also be argued the approach rests on some shaky assumptions.

While Israel has not been able to destroy Hamas, nor has Hamas been able to stop Gaza being reduced to piles of rubble. According to the Israeli Finance Minister Smotrich, such destruction has “no precedent globally. And the world isn’t stopping us.”

By presenting Hamas as an obstacle to the recognition process, the government also seems to be overlooking the governance role the internationally recognised Palestinian Authority in the West Bank could play in Gaza in a future Palestinian state.

Netanyahu has consistently opposed any such role for the Palestinian Authority, a position New Zealand now seems to tacitly accept.

Peters has described the situation in Gaza as “simply intolerable”. If that’s the case, it has been allowed to happen without New Zealand’s recognition of a Palestinian state. So, how does delaying recognition improve things?

After all, Netanyahu has opposed the concept of a two-state solution since the mid-1990s. And his far-right coalition government has pledged to take full control of Gaza and annex the West Bank – in complete violation of international law and numerous UN resolutions.

It is the belated realisation by a number of democracies that Netanyahu will never accept a Palestinian state that has prompted the latest flurry of statehood recognition, before Israel’s attempt to absorb the occupied territories is completed.

Those countries that have now recognised a Palestinian state will have also weighed up the factors for and against doing so. But they have clearly chosen to make a moral and legal stand – albeit symbolic – on the Palestinian right of political self-determination.

By not joining them, there is a real risk New Zealand will be seen as aligning with those states – Israel and the US – that bear significant responsibility for prolonging the catastrophic conflict in Gaza.

If this perception is widely shared, New Zealand’s hard-won reputation as a state that firmly upholds an international rules-based order could be dealt a major blow.

Robert G. Patman 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.

Why a proposed law to criminalise protests near homes is too vague to do much good

2025-09-25T23:16:48Z

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Should we be allowed to protest near someone’s home or private residence? It’s inconvenient and perhaps intrusive. But people have a fundamental right to protest. How do we find a balance?

Parliament’s Justice Select Committee is currently grappling with this as it hears submissions on the Summary Offences (Demonstrations Near Residential Premises) Amendment Bill.

There’s little doubt some forms of protest cross a line. Internet trolls have their real world equivalents. And there are many examples of toxic behaviour, particularly affecting people in public life, disproportionately women and those from minority communities.

At the same time, existing laws already make violence, threats and damage to property criminal offences. So too are unlawful assemblies and riots that cause people to be fearful. Parliament is also creating an offence to cover stalking and harassment.

The boundaries of peaceful protest are regulated by long-established summary offences, including disorderly behaviour or assembly, or using offensive, threatening or insulting language. So what will a new law really achieve?

Proving 5 things beyond reasonable doubt

Balancing the right to protest and inconvenience to others, the courts have decided those offences apply only to conduct that goes beyond what we should be expected to tolerate in a democracy.

In 2005, for example, the Supreme Court found in favour of someone who protested outside the home of a police officer who the protester believed had misused a search warrant. The protest was during the daytime and for a limited time, but the officer had been on night duty and was trying to sleep.

The court held that this did not overstep the mark and become disorderly. Importantly, this means that if conduct does overstep that mark – goes on longer, involves more people or more noise – it could be disorderly and therefore criminal.

Let’s assume there is a problem, however. Will the proposed new offence created by this bill actually solve it? To justify a fine or short period of imprisonment, if this bill became law, the prosecution would need to prove five things beyond reasonable doubt.

1. There has to be a “demonstration”, which is a “public expression of support or opposition by a person or group of persons to further a cause or campaign”. Does this cover someone who just wants to express a grievance? Or something that is spontaneous?

2. It has to occur “near any residential premises”. The government’s talking points refer to protests “outside” someone’s house, but the bill is not limited to that. There is no definition offered of “near”.

There is also a very wide definition of “residential premises”, which covers any home “erected, or currently used, mainly as a place of residence”, as well as any “land, improvements, or appurtenances belonging to the dwelling or usually enjoyed with it”.

Of course, lawyers love complicated phrases like this. But it should be simpler for those affected to know what qualifies as a criminal offence.

3. It has to be “directed at any regular occupant of those premises”. Again, what does this mean? It will not cover visitors. And it seems to allow a protester to say they are aiming their protest at an issue rather than a person – in which case, what is the point of this offence?

4. It has to cause an “unreasonable disruption”. This can be to the residential premises targeted or to other premises, including access to them. “Unreasonableness” has to take into account the time of day, duration of the disruption, actions taken, level of noise and nearness to the premises.

But does that mean anything different to the current law – that behaviour beyond what a reasonable person should tolerate in a democratic society can amount to disorderly conduct?

5. The protester has to know the disruption is unreasonable, or the court must find they ought to know this. This legal complexity will have to be enforced by police, most of whom do not have a law degree.

Protest and democracy

Let’s test some potential scenarios. Say someone is concerned about alcohol sales in an area. Would a protest outside shops where the manager lives upstairs now be criminal, because the address is mainly used as a residence?

Or suppose someone was making military drones in a large commercial barn on a rural estate where they lived. Would a protest at the entrance to the estate be criminal because the barn is an improvement to the land belonging to the dwelling?

How about a protest against a corporate farm allowing its dairy herd to make a local river unswimmable. Would that be illegal if the protest was at the river whose banks border the farm where workers live, and so is near a residence?

Finally, and crucially, the bill contains no proposal to exclude the Bill of Rights Act. So, if it becomes law, the courts will be reluctant to uphold any disproportionate restriction on the freedom to protest.

For a protest to qualify as an offence it would need to be disorderly. Given this is already an offence under existing law, the value of the proposed new offence remains elusive.

More broadly, protest is a significant part of our democratic tradition. Any proposal to restrict it must be scrutinised closely for whether it is genuinely needed, and for potential pitfalls. The bill to add the new offence of protesting near a private residence can be found wanting on both counts.

Public submissions on the bill close on October 6.

Kris Gledhill is affiliated with the Criminal Bar Association; the views here are his own.

A new twist on Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle can sharpen quantum sensors

2025-09-24T19:32:50Z

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For almost a century, Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle has stood as one of the defining ideas of quantum physics: a particle’s position and momentum cannot be known at the same time with absolute precision. The more you know about one, the less you know about the other.

In a new study published in Science Advances, our team demonstrates how to work around this restriction, not by breaking physics but by reshaping uncertainty itself.

The result is a breakthrough in the science of measurement that could power a new generation of ultra-precise quantum sensors operating at the scale of atoms.

Moving uncertainty around

The uncertainty principle makes clear there will always be a minimum amount of uncertainty in measurements. But you can think of it like air in a balloon: the air cannot escape, but you can freely move it around inside.

Similarly, when measuring position and momentum, the total amount of uncertainty is fixed. But we can redistribute it between the two.

Traditionally, this trade-off means making a choice. You can measure position precisely but lose information about momentum, or vice versa.

Like the air in a balloon, you can never get rid of the uncertainty in a quantum measurement – but you can squeeze it around to suit your purposes. Bhautik Patel / Unsplash

Our work takes a different approach. We push the uncertainty into a sensing range that is unimportant.

To understand this, let’s try another analogy: imagine a clock with only one hand. If it’s the hour hand, we know the hour exactly but only roughly know the minutes. If it’s the minute hand, we can read minutes precisely but do not know the hour.

We apply this same idea to quantum measurements. We redistribute the uncertainty so that we can simultaneously track small changes in position and momentum around a chosen point, even if we do not know the absolute location of the point itself.

With this, we can detect very tiny changes in both position and momentum at once, beyond the limit of any classical sensor.

Using error-correcting codes for quantum sensing

How did we do this? We repurposed techniques originally designed to protect quantum computers from noise to enhance the precision of measurement devices. This idea was first proposed in a theoretical study in 2017.

We performed our experiment using a trapped ion. This is a single electronically charged atom held in place and controlled with electric and magnetic fields.

We prepared the ion in “grid states”, a kind of quantum state originally developed for error-corrected quantum computing. We then used these states as a sensor to measure tiny signals, in a way similar to how one would detect errors in a quantum computer.

This crossover between quantum computing and quantum sensing is the key idea behind our work.

Our experiment showed we can measure an uncertainty in a signal corresponding to half a nanometre, roughly about the size of an atom.

We can also measure extremely small forces, measured in yoctonewtons – that’s a trillionth of a trillionth of a newton. That’s like measuring the weight of about 30 oxygen molecules.

Why does it matter?

Being able to measure extremely small signals has profound implications. Counterintuitively, measuring the minuscule can help us improve our understanding on the grandest scale.

Quantum sensors already help gravitational-wave observatories detect cosmic events such as colliding black holes. Our work opens the door to even greater sensing capabilities, potentially deepening our understanding of astrophysical objects.

This experiment is still within the confines of a physics laboratory. It’s not a gadget you’ll see in the shops tomorrow. But we are confident this new way to make precision measurements will lead to a whole generation of ultra-sensitive quantum sensors.

Tingrei Tan receives funding from Australian Research Council, US Office of Naval Research, US Air Force Office of Scientific Research, Wellcome Leap.

Christophe Valahu receives funding from Australian Research Council, US Office of Naval Research, US Air Force Office of Scientific Research, Wellcome Leap.