Playgrounds can host a variety of natural wonders – and, of course, kids! Now some students are not just learning about insects and spiders at school — they are putting them on the map and even discovering and naming new species.

Studies indicate insect populations are declining, and species are going extinct every week in Australia. But scientists have only described about a third of Australia’s estimated total of insect species.

This means around 150,000 of our insect species do not have formal scientific names. We know little about where they are and what they do in ecosystems — vital information for stopping biodiversity loss.

So, our team developed the citizen science project Insect Investigators.

We took scientists to 50 regional schools across three states to learn about insects and other arthropods such as spiders. Students of all ages got to survey insect diversity, search for new species, and engage with entomologists and taxonomists throughout the school year.

Students helped name new species, including several species of parasitoid wasp.

Some of the scientific names include Apanteles darthvaderi (Back Plains State School students thought the wasp had gone to the “dark side” because of the way the wasp “sucks the life out of caterpillars”), Mirax supremus (named after the pinnacle science class at Beerwah State High School), and Coccygidium mellosiheroine, which means “honey-coloured hero” (named by students collaborating from several Queensland schools, who considered the wasp a hero as it attacks a crop pest).

Our latest paper on the project is now published. We learned hands-on citizen science increased students’ interests in insects, nature and science.

How many insects?

Around 1,800 students and more than 70 teachers collected insects in or near their schools.

Teachers sent samples to the project team, which sorted and sent a selection of specimens to be DNA barcoded. This method involves sequencing a small section of the genome to tell different species apart.

The specimens were then sent to experts around Australia, who are working to describe any new species collected.

The students collected more than 12,000 insect specimens, including 5,465 different species – many of which are probably not described.

It will take years to identify all the species and work out how many are new to science, but we already know 3,000 had not been recorded in the Barcode of Life DNA database (BOLD).

Good for insects, good for learning

Getting to know insects as part of this citizen science project was great for kids’ active learning and developing an appreciation of the natural world.

Students said they felt more interested in insects, nature and science, and it inspired them to spend more time outdoors.

“I learnt there are many insect and plant species… that I haven’t seen before and how in different ecosystems you can find different insects,” said a student from South Australia.

When students are engaged, it’s no surprise teachers enjoy their jobs more too — and this is exactly what we found. The more enthusiastic the students were about nature and science experiences through the project, the more interested the teachers were in teaching these topics.

One teacher reported “students gained an understanding of the work of scientists, how to participate in research, protocols to follow, and gained a huge interest in insects!”

What did students get out of it?

After the insect survey was completed, we asked 118 students and 22 teachers in nine of the schools about what they experienced, and how they see insects and nature now.

Students said the chance to find a new species, as well as discovering and catching insects they had not seen before, were highlights of Insect Investigators.

Experiencing a hands-on learning style, outside in nature, was also mentioned as a benefit of the program.

Many students said they now wanted to spend more time outdoors, act and encourage others to protect nature, and pay more attention to insect conservation and science classes. This implies the experience and discovery associated with hands-on citizen science has motivated greater engagement with nature and science.

The potential of school-based citizen science

Insect surveys offer an accessible way for students to actively learn about science and nature. Insects are virtually everywhere and by photographing them, students can observe natural insect behaviour – without the need to collect them.

The iNaturalist App and Atlas of Living Australia facilitate citizen scientists to explore nature around them. We’ve also created resources for teachers who want to introduce lessons on insects into their school homepage.

It’s never too early to develop science literacy skills and give children the chance to develop their curiosity, critical thinking and problem solving.

Connecting schools and scientists is a great way to engage young learners and foster connections to nature. It has the added bonus of inventorying our natural world which is vital to conserving Australia’s biodiversity.

Andy G Howe, Research Fellow (Entomology), University of the Sunshine Coast; Erinn Fagan-Jeffries, Wasp biodiversity group leader, University of Adelaide; Patrick O'Connor, Professor in Natural Resource Economics, University of Adelaide, and Trang Nguyen, Postdoctoral Research Fellow, University of Adelaide

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Two windswept beaches 80km south of Adelaide have been closed to the public after locals reported “more than 100” surfers fell ill on the weekend. Their symptoms included “a sore throat, dry cough and irritated eyes” or blurred vision. Dead sea dragons, fish and octopuses have also washed up on the beaches.

Water samples have been taken for testing and health authorities suspect toxins from an algal bloom may be to blame.

But the “mysterious foam” in the water is a health hazard in its own right.

My research shows people should not go in the sea when it is foaming. These bacterial smoothies can contain more harmful pathogens than a sewage treatment plant – and you wouldn’t go swimming in sewage.

Beware of sea foam

Sea foam doesn’t look dangerous. But looks can be deceiving. This foam is likely to contain a mixture of many different types of microbes and pollutants.

On beaches with lots of sea foam, people should avoid all contact with the water – and definitely avoid surfing or breathing in the contaminated water droplets in the air.

I have been studying sea foams since 2003. In 2021, my PhD student Luke Wright and I published research on our discovery of infectious disease-causing microbes in the sea foams of the Sunshine Coast in Queensland.

Named Nocardiae, these microbes are filamentous bacteria that can cause foaming in wastewater treatment plants, particularly when there’s a high load of fats, oils and greases. We now know the bacteria can cause foaming in the sea too.

We detected 32 strains of Nocardiae in samples of sea foam from beaches at Noosa and south to Caloundra.

Some of these species were new to science. So we named them Nocardia australiensis and Nocardia spumea (“spumea” meaning froth or foam).

Nocardiae bacteria are known to cause skin, lung and central nervous system infections in both humans and animals. But the infection usually only takes hold in people with weakened immune systems. The bacteria can cause abscesses in the brain, lungs and liver.

The incubation time can range between one and six months, depending on the strain of bacteria and the health status of the person involved.

This means it will take some time for people to get infected and show symptoms. Long-term medical monitoring is required to detect the condition, as it can be masked by other disease-causing microbes such as the infectious agent that causes tuberculosis.

Where is the sea foam coming from?

During heavy winds, microbial spores from the soil can end up on the surface of the ocean.

If the water is polluted with floating fats and grease as well as asphaltene, motor oil and hydrocarbons, these spores soon form bacterial colonies or biofilms that go forth and multiply.

That’s because these microbes use pollution as a food source. Seawater is increasingly polluted by runoff from farmland or hard surfaces such as roads. Everything washed into the stormwater drains out to sea. During heavy storms accidental overflow from sewage systems can also occur, as Rockhampton has experienced in the past.

Algae is another food source for these microbes, as they can crack open algae cells to access the nutritious oils inside. Sea foams have been observed in northern France during algal blooms.

Warm water makes matters worse, as the warmth increases the survival rate for Nocardiae. In our laboratory on the Sunshine Coast, we were able to replicate a foaming event. We found foaming started at water temperatures of 24°C and above.

What can be done about it?

Reducing stormwater pollution will reduce the growth of sea foams. Any potential incident of infections of these surfers can raise awareness of the problem.

But sea foam can also be found in pristine environments such as national parks, where it is mostly due to oils leached from trees. We proved this fact at Noosa National Park.

In my experience on the Sunshine Coast, the council and other local authorities have been very receptive to advice on how to fix the problem. They have supported our research and also completed major upgrades at sewage treatment plants over the last 20 years.

Once there’s an outbreak in the environment it is very difficult to control. That’s because ocean is an open system, as opposed to the closed system of a sewage treatment plant, where operators can use special chemicals or mechanical equipment to break the foam down. In open sea it’s impossible. So we just have to wait for it to go away.

In this case, teams of researchers from different disciplines should come together to explore the issue. Microbiologists, marine scientists, meteorologists and chemists should team up to find out what’s going on. Ocean currents should be followed to determine where the pollutants end up.

Sea foam is a global issue

Earlier this month Tropical Cyclone Alfred whipped up sea foam all the way along the coast from South East Queensland to northern New South Wales. I was horrified to see footage of people playing in the thick, sticky sea foam, blissfully unaware of the dangers.

But the problem is not confined to Australia, sea foam can be found at polluted beaches all over the world. Examples include India and Turkey.

I have been telling this story ever since I first observed it on the Sunshine Coast in 2003. Every time there’s a major sea foam event, the media is interested. But research support is also needed in the gaps in between. We scientists need to monitor the shorelines continuously.

As long as humanity continues to produce pollution, the problem will increase. It will also worsen as the world warms, because sea foams like it hot.

Ipek Kurtböke, Associate Professor in Microbiology, University of the Sunshine Coast

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

More than 8,000 continental islands sit just off the coast of Australia, many of them uninhabited and unspoiled. For thousands of species, these patches of habitat offer refuge from the threats they face on the mainland.

Coastal islands are also a valuable resource for ecologists studying how communities of plants colonise new habitats and change over time.

Now, we have created a new publicly available database known as A-Islands, which draws on decades of plant surveys (where botanists visit a particular location and record the plants found there).

This unique collection of surveys draws on data about more than 6,500 plant species from over 850 islands. Some vast islands stretched for kilometres, while others were as small as a tiny apartment.

Our new research, published in the Journal of Vegetation Science, provides new insights into how Australia’s coastal islands have changed over time, and can help with plant monitoring and conservation efforts as the climate warms.

Scaling steep cliffs, jumping from helicopters

We built A-Islands by painstakingly digitising plant surveys from old books and records, and speaking with botanists and organisations all over Australia.

A-Islands is made up of 1,350 island botanical surveys dating back to the 1940s, from over 135 different sources. We are still adding more.

The stories of how the data was collected were fascinating. In some cases, people camped on islands for weeks, making sure they’d recorded every living organism they could.

Some scaled steep cliffs from small boats or even jumped from helicopters to access remote islands, and record the plants they found there.

Australia’s islands punch above their weight

As we collated the surveys, we realised Australia’s coastal islands were punching above their weight for species diversity.

Despite making up less than 1% of Australia’s land area, at least 25% of Australia’s plant species inhabit these coastal islands.

These islands’ climates are almost as diverse, spanning coral atolls in tropical north Queensland to the cold and windswept rocky isles off the southern tip of Tasmania.

While some species of plants have colonised hundreds of Australian islands, most inhabit just a few isles.

These plant communities are the backbone of island ecosystems and provide havens for many endangered animals.

A rare resource for scientists

Many of the islands featured in A-Islands have been surveyed more than once over the last 100 years.

Most data in the ecological sciences tends to provide a snapshot in time of the species that might be at a location.

In contrast, A-Islands can tell us how the plant communities have changed over decades.

This is surprisingly rare in ecological studies but essential if scientists are to predict vegetation changes in the future as the climate changes.

A new idea

Many people think of plant communities as static and unchanging.

However, A-Islands shows that on these small coastal islands, mainland species are migrating to the island, persisting for a time, and then going extinct and being replaced by other species.

This concept of species constantly changing at a particular location is called species turnover. In theory, the types of species in an island community will change over time but the number of species remains, on average, the same over the long term.

The data in A-Islands not only confirms this has happened at an unprecedented number of archipelagos, but also suggests a new idea: some types of species “turnover” faster than others.

Species like grasses and small herbs tend to come and go from islands more frequently than longer lived taller species.

Islands can be climate refuges

Data sets such as A-Islands will become even more essential as the climate changes. Islands are at the forefront of biodiversity loss, and over half of the known global plant extinctions have occurred on islands.

Uncovering these underlying trends in species community change will be crucial for predicting how plant communities everywhere respond to climate change over the coming centuries.

These islands will be important climate refuges, buffered from the hottest temperatures by the surrounding ocean and protected from mainland pressures. They will be vital plant habitats in the future.

The A-Islands dataset forms a crucial baseline for defining what species have inhabited our pristine island environments over time.

It can also help scientists work out where to prioritise surveys they’ll need to do as the climate changes.

David Coleman, Post-doctoral Researcher in Plant Ecology, Macquarie University and Julian Schrader, Lecturer in Plant Ecology, Macquarie University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

There is something special about sharing baked goods with family, friends and colleagues. But I’ll never forget the disappointment of serving my colleagues rhubarb muffins that had failed to rise. They were dense, rubbery and an embarrassment to the reputation of chemists as good cooks (#ChemistsWhoCook feeds on social media are full of delicious food).

The cause of my failure was an imbalance between the acidity of rhubarb and the chemical raising agents I used in baking.

Both baking powder and baking soda can play a role in giving baked goods their bubble-filled texture and taste. They are sold side-by-side in the supermarket, and have similar uses. But what’s the difference between them and how can we use those differences to our advantage?

What’s in the box?

A quick look at the packaging shows the difference between the two products.

Baking soda contains one ingredient: sodium hydrogen carbonate, also known as sodium bicarbonate or simply bicarb. Baking soda is well known for its uses in cleaning, cooking and deodorising.

Baking powder is typically a mixture of three ingredients: baking soda, an acid, and a starch derived from corn, rice or wheat. The starch makes it easier to measure the powder and also prevents the acid and base from reacting prematurely in the pantry. Baking powder is used exclusively for cooking.

The common ingredient in both products is the baking soda. This salt can be purified from natural sources, or can be prepared synthetically.

The acid is the key

Baking soda is a base, which means it can chemically react with acids. This fizzy reaction produces bubbles of carbon dioxide, water and a mix of new salts. Baking soda can also release carbon dioxide gas when it is heated at temperatures above 80°C.

When you mix baking soda into a cake batter, you will see some initial chemical activation by food acids. This causes bubbles to form and the mixture to rise.

The acids come from other ingredients in the mix, such as yogurt, buttermilk, or the rhubarb in my failed muffins. Too much acid, and the majority of the carbon dioxide will be released at this batter stage.

Once you place the mixture in the hot oven, the high temperature will form further carbon dioxide bubbles. This thermal activation forms a new salt, sodium carbonate, which can give a residual taste and “soapy” mouthfeel if there’s too much of it left in the final product.

Mixing baking powder into a cake batter will also result in chemical activation to form bubbles. The baking soda in the mixture will react with the acid included in the baking powder mix, as well as any acidic ingredients in the batter.

The type of acid included in the baking powder can subtly change the way the baking powder behaves. The more soluble the acid in the batter, the faster the carbon dioxide will form bubbles.

Recipes that ask for both baking powder and baking soda are likely looking to do two things: neutralise an abundance of food acid from another ingredient, and provide time-delayed, temperature-activated rising.

Baking soda can also increase the surface browning of food by enhancing the Maillard reaction. This class of reactions results in delicious chemical transformations in roasted coffee, seared steaks, baked bread and more.

Meanwhile an excess of baking soda can change the appearance of foods, for example turning blueberry anthocyanins green in muffins or pancakes.

Can I substitute baking powder and baking soda?

Baking (like chemistry) is a precise science. It’s best not to substitute baking soda for baking powder or vice-versa: they have subtly different chemical effects.

If you really need a substitution, the general rule is that you need three times the baking powder for the equivalent quantity of baking soda (so, if the recipe asks for a teaspoon of baking soda, you’d add three teaspoons of baking powder).

But it’s not a precise conversion: it doesn’t take into account the key role of acid that’s already in the baking powder. This could affect the final acid-base balance in your recipe.

You can compensate by adding an acid such as cream of tartar or citric acid. But it can be difficult to get the relative quantities of acid and base correct. These acids are also likely to promote immediate release of carbon dioxide, with less left to activate in the oven – potentially leading to a dense bake.

You definitely shouldn’t substitute baking powder for baking soda when cleaning. The acid in the baking powder will neutralise any cleaning activity of the sodium bicarbonate, while the starch may leave a sticky, streaky mess.

It’s best to keep both baking powder and baking soda in your pantry for their distinct uses. Be sure to share whatever delicious treats you bake with others, as well as sharing your new knowledge of the bubbly chemistry contained within.

Nathan Kilah, Senior Lecturer in Chemistry, University of Tasmania

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

New figures show shocking numbers of Australian kids are not achieving basic swimming skills.

Royal Life Saving Australia data estimates 48% of Year 6 students cannot swim 50 metres and tread water for two minutes. For those in high school, the results are even more worrying. Teachers estimate 39% of Year 10 students still cannot meet the same benchmark.

These skills are based on minimum swimming and water safety standards children should achieve to have fun and stay safe in the water. They are a key strategy to reduce the risk of drowning.

While this research indicates we may no longer be a nation of swimmers, there’s still plenty parents, schools and governments can do. And if your child’s lessons have fallen behind, it is not too late to catch up.

Why are we seeing this?

This latest research builds on previous worries about Australian children’s swimming skills. During COVID, there were concerns children would not come back to lessons after lockdowns.

While participation in lessons post-lockdowns has been promising, some pools have had difficulty finding qualified staff.

In 2023, Royal Life Saving Australia also cautioned about 100,000 children in late primary school were unlikely to return to swimming lessons before they started high school.

It’s not too late

If you have stopped lessons with your children – or if you never started – it is not too late to go to the pool.

Research comparing children between the ages of three and eight indicates the optimum age to begin formal swimming lessons is around five to seven years.

But children can still learn to become safe and competent swimmers in later primary years and into high school. We know this because adults can, and do learn to swim later in life.

Research also suggests older children may learn to swim more quickly than younger children, so they may need fewer lessons to attain skills than their younger counterparts.

Make sure lessons are regular

If you have an older child starting swimming lessons it’s important to maintain regular classes.

For example, a 2018 study on a group of 149 Latino children in the United States aged three to 14 showed those who had learned the most skills had the highest attendance – attending at least ten lessons over an eight-week period.

If weekly lessons are too difficult, you could consider holiday intensive programs and supplement this with informal practice in the water. Research shows informal swimming – such as playing – can help children build their swimming skills if they are also having lessons.

There are barriers to regular lessons

We know some families find it difficult to commit to swimming lessons. On top of the cost, there may not be a local pool available or enough instructors.

These barriers disproportionately impact people from low-socioeconomic backgrounds and those living in rural and remote areas. Royal Life Saving survey respondents from these groups were more likely to report their school-aged children had never attended swimming lessons.

Schools also find it hard

Schools can help by offering swimming lessons at key points. For example, two weeks of daily lessons when children are in Year 2 is a common model in New South Wales public schools.

In Tasmania, children in Years 3, 4 and 5 have a mandatory requirement to attend swimming lessons. There is optional attendance for those in Year 6 if they are identified as being at high risk.

But schools also report challenges in teaching kids how to swim.

Swimming lessons are expensive, schools are short-staffed and dealing with a crowded curriculum. This is why 31% of surveyed schools don’t offer swimming education.

For some children, who are behind in their swimming skills – or who cannot swim at all – a short burst of school lessons may not be enough to catch them up.

We need to do more

Schools still have a vital role to play in ensuring children are not missing out on developing these minimum, lifesaving skills. So Australian governments need to prioritise swimming as one of the few sports you can learn that will help to save your life.

Royal Life Saving Australia says the following four measures would help prevent drownings:

1. increased funding for existing school and vacation swimming programs

2. increased grants targeting people with vulnerabilities to drowning, including those from refugee, migrant, and regional communities, as well as for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples

3. increased access to lifesaving programs in high schools

4. building and refurbishing public swimming pools and swim schools.

Rates of fatal drowning in Australia are increasing. They were up 16% on the ten-year average in 2024. We have just had a particularly horrific summer where 104 people drowned, a number that is higher than both last summer and the five-year average. Swimming skills are more important than ever.

Amy Peden, NHMRC Research Fellow, School of Population Health & co-founder UNSW Beach Safety Research Group, UNSW Sydney

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

If you peruse the philosophy section of your local bookshop, you’ll probably find a number of books on Stoicism – an ancient philosophy enjoying a renaissance today. But where are the Epicureans?

Both philosophical schools were popular in the ancient world. However, while stoic works such as Meditations by Marcus Aurelius and Seneca’s letters still fill the shelves, alongside contemporary takes such as The Daily Stoic (2016), Epicureanism largely remains a historical curiosity.

Today, the Greek thinker Epicurus (341–270 BCE) is mostly remembered as the originator of the term “epicurean”, which describes someone devoted to sensual enjoyment, particularly of fine food and drink.

And while it’s true Epicurus argued pleasure is the highest human good, there’s a lot more to Epicureanism than merely savouring a glass of Shiraz with haute cuisine.

Philosophers in the garden

Epicurus was born on the island of Samos to Athenian parents. He studied philosophy in Athens before travelling to the island of Lesbos to establish a philosophical academy.

Upon returning to Athens in 306 BCE, he bought a tract of land and began a philosophical community known as the Garden.

The Garden was radically different from other philosophical communities at the time. While Plato’s Academy generally trained the children of the Athenian elite, and Aristotle tutored nobles such as Alexander the Great, Epicurus’ Garden was far more inclusive. Women and slaves were welcome to join the dialogue.

The community led a frugal life and practised total equality between men and women, which was uncommon at the time. In this atmosphere, noblewomen and courtesans, senators and slaves, all engaged in philosophical debate.

While many early Epicureans have disappeared from the annals of history, we know of some women, such as Leontion and Nikidion, who were early proponents of Epicurean thought.

Philosophy as a way of life

It isn’t just the Garden’s inclusivity that gives it contemporary appeal, but its entirely unique notion of what constitutes a philosophical life.

According to Epicurus, a philosopher wasn’t someone who taught or wrote philosophical tracts. A philosopher was someone who practised what the French philosopher Pierre Hadot describes, in his work on Epicureanism, as “a certain style of life”.

Epicureanism was a daily practice, rather than an academic discipline. Anyone who strove to live a philosophical life was part of the Epicurean community and was considered a philosopher.

The concept of philosophy Epicurus promoted was more egalitarian and all-encompassing than the narrow definition we often see used today.

The pursuit of pleasure

But what did it mean to be a practising Epicurean? Epicurus conceived of philosophy as a therapeutic practice. “We must concern ourselves with the healing of our own lives,” he wrote.

This process of healing involves developing an inner attitude of relaxation and tranquillity known as anesis in Ancient Greek. To do this, Epicureans sought to turn their minds away from the worries of life and focus instead on the simple joy of existence.

According to Epicurus, unhappiness comes because we are afraid of things which should not be feared, and desire things which are not necessary and are beyond our control.

Most notably, he rejected the idea of an afterlife, arguing the soul did not continue to exist after death. He also argued it was wrong to fear death as it

gives no trouble when it comes [and] is but an empty pain in anticipation.

Instead of fearing punishment in the beyond, he said we should focus on the possibilities for pleasure in the here and now. But that doesn’t mean chasing every pleasure which comes our way; the task of the Epicurean is to understand which pleasures are worth pursuing.

The highest pleasures are not those which yield the highest intensity or last the longest, but those which are the least mixed with worry and the most likely to ensure peace of mind. In this vein, Epicurus sought to cultivate feelings of gratitude and appreciation for even the simplest everyday experiences.

While his critics cast him and his followers as unrestrained hedonists, he wrote in one letter that a single piece of cheese was as pleasurable as an entire feast.

For Epicureans, it is precisely the brevity of life that gives us such an exquisite capacity for pleasure. As one Epicurean Philodemus wrote:

Receive each additional moment of time in a manner appropriate to its value; as if one were having an incredible stroke of luck.

A philosophy for outsiders

Epicurus’ perennial appeal resides in how his philosophy gave strength and inspiration to outsiders. In the late 19th century, aesthetes such as critic Walter Pater and playwright Oscar Wilde praised Epicureanism as a way of life.

In Wilde’s letter De Profundis (From the depths) – written in 1897 while imprisoned in Reading Gaol on charges of indecency – he wrote that Pater’s novel Marius the Epicurean (1885) had given him both intellectual and spiritual solace during his trial.

Pater, too, had faced discrimination at Oxford for having homosexual relationships. His novel is an evocative celebration of the possibilities of a life lived in the pursuit of sensual and spiritual beauty.

In one of his earlier texts, The Renaissance (1873), Pater paraphrases Victor Hugo, writing

we are all under a sentence of death but with a sort of indefinite reprieve […] we have an interval, and then our place knows us no more. […] Our one chance lies in expanding that interval, in getting as many pulsations as possible into the given time.

This profoundly Epicurean sentiment, of a life lived in the interval, remains appealing to those who seek to turn their lives into a work of art.

Thomas Moran, Lecturer in the Department of English, Creative Writing and Film, University of Adelaide

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

This month marks a decade since Netflix – the world’s most influential and widely subscribed streaming service – launched in Australia.

Since then the media landscape has undergone significant transformation, particularly in terms of how we consume content. According to a 2024 Deloitte report, Australians aged 16–38 spent twice as much time watching subscription streaming services as free-to-air TV (both live and on-demand).

Part of the success of streaming services lies in their ability to provide content that feels handpicked. And this is made possible through the use of sophisticated recommender systems fuelled by vast amounts of user data.

As streaming viewership continues to rise, so too do the risks associated with how these platforms collect and handle user data.

Changing methods of data collection

Subscription streaming platforms aren’t the first to collect user data. They just do it differently.

Broadcasters have always been invested in collecting viewers’ information (via TV ratings) to inform promotional schedules and attract potential advertisers. These data are publicly available.

In Australia, TV data are collected anonymously via the OzTam TV ratings system, based on the viewing habits of more than 12,000 individuals.

Each television in a recruited household is connected to a metering box. Members of the household select a letter that corresponds to them, after which the box records their viewing data, including the program, channel and viewing time. But this system doesn’t include broadcasters’ video-on-demand services, which have been around since the late 2000s (with ABC iView being the first).

In 2016 a new system was launched to measure broadcast video-on-demand data separately from OzTam ratings.

However, it collected data in a rolling seven-day report, in the form of total minutes a particular program had been watched online (rather than the number of individuals watching, as was the measurement for TV). This meant the two data sources couldn’t be combined.

In 2018, OzTAM and Nielsen announced the Virtual Australia (VoZ) database which would integrate both broadcast TV and video-on-demand data. It took six years following the announcement for the VoZ system to become the industry’s official trading currency.

Streamers’ approach

Streaming platforms such as Netflix have a markedly different approach to acquiring data, as they can source it directly from users. These data are therefore much more granular, larger in volume, and far less publicly accessible due to commercial confidence.

In recent years, Netflix has shared some of its viewing data through a half-yearly report titled What We Watched. It offers macro-level details such as total hours watched that year, as well as information about specific content, including how many times a particular show was viewed.

Netflix also supplies information to its shareholders, although much of this focuses on subscriber numbers rather than specific user details.

The best publicly accessible Netflix data we have is presented on its Tudum website, which includes global Top 10 lists that can be filtered by country.

The main data Netflix doesn’t share are related to viewer demographics: who is watching what programs.

Why does it matter?

Ratings and user data offer valuable insights to both broadcasters and streaming services, and can influence decisions regarding what content is produced.

User data would presumably have been a significant factor in Netflix‘s decision to move into live content such as stand-up comedy, the US National Football League (NFL) and an exclusive US$5 billion deal with World Wrestling Entertainment.

Streaming companies also use personal data to provide users with targeted viewing suggestions, with an aim to reduce the time users spend browsing catalogues.

Netflix has an entire research department dedicated to enhancing user experience. According to Justin Basilico, Netflix’s Director of Machine Learning and Recommender Systems, more than 80% of what Netflix users watch is driven by its recommender system.

As noted in its privacy statement, Netflix draws on a range of information to provide recommendations, including:

• the user’s interactions with the service, such as their viewing history and title ratings
• other users with similar tastes and preferences
• information about the titles, such as genre, categories, actors and release year
• the time of day the user is watching
• the language/s the user prefers
• the device/s they are watching on
• how long they watch a particular Netflix title.

If a user isn’t happy with their recommendations, they can try to change them by editing their viewing and ratings history.

Personalised or predetermined?

The rise of streaming hasn’t only transformed how we watch TV, but also how our viewing habits are tracked and how this information informs future decisions.

While traditional broadcasters have long relied on sample anonymised data to measure engagement, streaming platforms operate in a landscape in which detailed user data can be used to shape content, recommendations and business decisions.

While personalisation makes streaming more appealing, it also raises important questions about privacy, transparency and control. How much do streaming platforms really know about us? And are they catering to our preferences – or shaping them?

Marc C-Scott, Associate Professor of Screen Media | Deputy Associate Dean of Learning & Teaching, Victoria University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Including pronouns in introductions, your email signature or your social media bio may seem like a minor detail. Pronouns are just small words we use in place of names all the time. But, like names, pronouns have personal significance. They say something about who we are.

Trans, nonbinary and gender-diverse people face many issues more pressing than pronouns, including health and educational disparities and disproportionately higher rates of abuse, violence and discrimination. Getting pronouns right is a simple thing everyone can do to show respect.

Linguistic shifts towards gender inclusivity are occurring worldwide, and the use of gender-neutral or inclusive pronouns is not a new nor exclusively Western phenomenon.

Chinese, one of the world’s oldest languages and spoken by more than one billion people, illustrates how languages adapt to reflect shifting understanding of gender. Its pronoun system may be on the cusp of significant change.

Developing pronouns

In my newly published research, I’ve explored what is happening with Chinese third-person pronouns.

The modern Chinese pronoun system is fascinating for two reasons.

First, gendered pronouns have only been part of the Chinese language for 100 years: the feminine pronoun 她 (she) was only adopted in the 1920s.

Second, although there are now distinct Chinese characters for “he”, 他, and “she”, 她, these are both pronounced tā in Mandarin. You can have a whole conversation about someone without revealing their gender.

The lack of gender-distinct pronouns in spoken Mandarin has prompted calls for written Chinese to follow suit. Queer Chinese speakers have proposed several gender-inclusive pronouns that would be pronounced tā, just like 他 (he) and 她 (she).

These include the romanised form “TA” and new Chinese characters 「⿰无也」 and 「⿰㐅也」. These new characters might look strange: they are written like this to clarify that they should be read as one Chinese character. Currently, they take up the space of two Chinese characters because they are not yet in Unicode and cannot be typed properly.

Other people hope to see the now-masculine 他 regain its original function as an ungendered pronoun.

What pronouns do queer Chinese speakers use?

To understand how Chinese pronouns are changing, I surveyed more than 100 queer Chinese speakers across 12 countries. I asked survey respondents, a third of whom were nonbinary or otherwise gender-diverse, about their pronoun preferences and perceptions. I also analysed how pronouns are used in a large database of contemporary Chinese texts.

My research found gender-inclusive pronouns accounted for about a quarter of first-choice pronouns, and nearly half of all pronouns used by survey respondents. TA was overwhelmingly preferred by gender-diverse individuals (70%), with the English “they” (20%) the next most popular option.

While cisgender and transgender men almost exclusively used masculine pronouns, cis and trans women showed significant openness to using gender-inclusive pronouns alongside feminine ones. After 她 (she), TA was the second most common pronoun for women (40%) and second most common overall (17%).

Notably, 他 (he) was not used by any women or gender-diverse people, except one who considered it gender-neutral. This suggests reviving its original ungendered usage may be difficult.

TA emerged as the most recognised gender-inclusive pronoun, with nearly all respondents (97%) familiar with it regardless of their age, gender, region or language background. In contrast, fewer than 8% had encountered the new character-based pronouns 「⿰无也」 or「⿰㐅也」 and no one reported using them.

What makes TA so popular?

Survey participants were overwhelmingly positive about TA, with 63% expressing favourable views. As one respondent explained:

The look and feel is good, it suits people’s everyday pronunciation habits, and doesn’t create issues with having to specify someone’s gender.

TA functions similarly to English singular “they”. It works in two ways: as a gender-neutral pronoun when gender is unknown (like saying “someone left their umbrella”), and as a gender-inclusive pronoun specifically including gender-diverse people.

Many survey respondents called TA “respectful” and “inclusive” but also simply “convenient”.

However, some respondents were concerned TA is “untraditional” and “pollutes the Chinese language”.

Practical considerations for using emerging Chinese pronouns also extend to the technical challenges of typing new Chinese characters. Before a new character can be typed on computers or phones, it needs to be officially encoded in Unicode, the global standard for digital text.

My research shows this requirement is strongly influencing which emerging Chinese pronouns can gain traction.

While some survey respondents hoped to see a gender-inclusive Chinese character adopted, they weren’t optimistic about 「⿰无也」or 「⿰㐅也」 becoming mainstream.

As one noted:

「⿰无也」is good, but it’s hard to type and it takes a long time to explain.

User-friendly and easily understandable

TA is currently the most popular emerging Chinese gender-inclusive pronoun, crucially because it mimics how people use tā in spoken Mandarin.

It is already part of people’s vocabulary, and already used (at least as a gender-neutral pronoun) by mainstream Chinese media and on online platforms.

Unlike other recently proposed pronouns, TA is versatile, user-friendly and easily understandable for queer and non-queer Chinese speakers alike. This makes TA a strong contender for widespread adoption into contemporary Chinese.

Like the introduction of a Chinese feminine pronoun 她 (she) in the 1920s, the emergence of TA as a gender-inclusive pronoun in the 2020s is about recognising a wider spectrum of identities.

Pronouns are not a political statement, just a personal statement. When you use someone’s correct pronouns, you’re saying, “I see you, and I respect who you are”. That’s something worth talking about, in any language.

Janet Davey, PhD Candidate, Australian Centre on China in the World, Australian National University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

It took thousands of years to develop the world’s extraordinary range of domesticated farm animals – an estimated 8,800 livestock breeds across 38 farmed species.

But this diversity is dwindling fast. Advances in selective breeding and artificial insemination have fuelled the global spread of a small number of profitable livestock types. Their popularity has left ever more heritage breeds at risk of extinction.

Why does this matter? Each breed represents vital genetic diversity for the livestock species on which we rely, known as agrobiodiversity. As the number of breeds shrink, we lose their genetics forever.

There are bright spots amid the decline. Hundreds of passionate farmers are working hard to keep heritage breeds alive around Australia. As my new book shows, they do it primarily for love.

Which livestock breeds are disappearing – and why?

Cattle have experienced the highest number of extinctions, with at least 184 breeds lost globally.

Of all chicken breeds, one in ten is now extinct, and a further 30% are endangered.

Sheep are also rapidly losing diversity, with 160 breeds now extinct. The rise of synthetic materials has endangered the remaining breeds producing carpet wool in New Zealand and Australia, including the unique Tasmanian Elliottdale.

Pigs fare little better. Australia’s 2.5 million pigs are predominantly Large White, Landrace and Duroc crossbreeds, while none of the eight remaining purebred pig breeds in Australia currently has more than 100 sows registered with the Rare Breeds Trust. While not all sows are registered, we know breeds such as Tamworths are at dangerously low numbers.

How did this happen? Over the past century, the goal of animal husbandry has shifted from breeding hardy, multipurpose animals to increasing performance for economic gain. For livestock, performance means more of what humans value, such as pigs with extra ribs, prolific egg-laying hens and sheep with finer wool.

Huge sums have been spent on selective breeding and artificial insemination technologies. This, in turn, has made it possible for a small number of profitable livestock types to be farmed globally.

For instance, when you buy a roast chicken, it will likely be one of just two types of fast-growing broilers (meat chickens), the Ross or the Cobb. Their genetics are developed and trademarked by two multinational agribusinesses who dominate the global broiler market.

It’s hard to overstate how big the increases in production have been from reproductive technologies. In the dairy industry, for instance, milk yield per cow has doubled in the past 40 years. These volumes are around six times greater now than a century ago.

Holsteins, the top dairy breed, have become globally dominant. Almost 1.4 million of Australia’s 1.65 million dairy cows are Holsteins. But as Holstein numbers soar, other breeds dwindle. Many farmers have simply stopped rearing other breeds, leading to many becoming endangered or extinct.

For Holsteins themselves, this has come with a cost. Selective breeding for high milk volume has meant Holsteins suffer more medical issues such as metabolic diseases and frequent mastitis. They also have reduced fertility and longevity.

Researchers have found 99% of Holstein bulls produced by artificial insemination in the United States are descended from just two sires. This wide dissemination of limited bloodlines has led to the spread of genetic defects.

What is at stake?

Our food systems face growing threats. Genetic diversity provides a safeguard for livestock species against lethal animal diseases such as H5N1 bird flu and African swine fever.

If we rely on just a few breeds, we risk a wipe out. The Irish potato famine is a catastrophic example. In the 1800s, Irish farmers took up the “lumper” variety of potatoes to feed a growing population. But when fungal rot struck in the 1840s, it turned most of the crop to mush – and led to mass starvation.

Some breeds have very useful traits, such as resistance to particular pests and diseases.

Chickens and other birds die in swathes if infected by Newcastle disease, one of the most serious bird viruses. But breeds such as the hardy Egyptian Fayoumi survive better, while the European Leghorn – whose genetics are used in commercial egg-laying breeds – is highly susceptible.

Local breeds can also have better resistance to endemic pests. The Indian zebu humped cattle breed, for example, is less prone to tick infestation than crossbreeds.

Climate change is also making life harder for livestock, and some breeds are better adapted to heat than others.

For different cultural groups, local heritage breeds also have unique symbolic and culinary value.

While it’s well-known eating less meat would benefit ecosystems, animal welfare and human health, eating meat remains entrenched in our diets and the economy. Pursuing more sustainable and higher-welfare approaches to livestock production is crucial.

Some Aussie farmers love heritage breeds

A cohort of Australian farmers is working hard to conserve dozens of endangered livestock breeds such as Large Black pigs, Shropshire sheep and Belted Galloway cattle.

But these farmers are hampered by our reluctance as consumers to pay more to cover the cost of raising slower-growing breeds in free-range environments. Not only that, but meat processors are increasingly closing their doors to small-scale producers.

Why persevere? For four years, I’ve conducted ethnographic research with Australia’s heritage breed farmers. I found they were motivated by one of the most powerful conservation tools we have: love.

Of his endangered English Leicester sheep, one farmer told me:

I consider them to be family; they have been our family for over 150 years. I talk to them, and the rams in particular talk to me. Sorry if I sound like a silly old man, but you must talk to them. I gave myself a 60th birthday present by commissioning a large portrait of an English Leicester head, which hangs in our kitchen (I do not have a painting of my wife).

Love doesn’t often feature in agricultural research. But it is an important force. We know from wildlife conservation that humans will act to save what they love. This holds for livestock, too.

What can you do? If you eat meat or work with wool, seek out rare breeds and join organisations such as the Rare Breeds Trust of Australia and the Australian Food Sovereignty Alliance who back farmers supporting breed diversity.

Catie Gressier, Adjunct Research Fellow in Agriculture and Environment, The University of Western Australia

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

We all recognise the benefits of regular aerobic or cardiovascular exercise to support our heart and lung health. Being active is also good for our social and mental health. And strength training promotes strong bones and muscles.

But as we age, we also need to train our balance to avoid falls.

Around one in three people aged 65 and over have a fall each year.

Falls are a common cause of disability and loss of independence in older age and can lead to an older person moving from living independently into living in a residential aged care facility. More than 6,000 older Australians die each year from falls.

But many falls are preventable. So exercise that targets balance and strength is crucial.

How much do we need to do?

International guidelines recommend all older people exercise to prevent falls, even if they’ve never fallen. Prevention is far better than cure.

Other guidelines recommend people aged 65 and over do “functional balance and strength training” on three or more days a week, to improve their ability to do day-to-day activities, stay independent, and prevent falls.

Since balance starts to decline at around age 50, it’s even better to start training balance before the age of 65.

In order to increase our muscle strength, we need to progressively lift heavier weights. Similarly, to boost our balance, we need to practise activities that progressively challenge it. This improves our ability to stay steady in difficult situations and avoid falling.

Functional training means doing a physical activity that imitates everyday activities, such as standing up out of a chair, or stepping onto a step.

When you practise the everyday activities necessary for living independently, you improve your ability to perform them. This reduces the likelihood of falling when doing those activities, and therefore helps you maintain your independence for longer.

What exercises can you do?

The best exercises to challenge our balance system and reduce the risk of falling are performed while standing, rather than seated.

For example, you can stand with your feet close together or on one leg (if it’s safe to do so) while also performing controlled upper-body movements, such as leaning and reaching. This is a functional balance exercise and it can be made progressively more challenging as your balance improves.

Here are some exercises you can practise at home:

Sit to stand

Practise standing up from a seated position ten times every hour or so. See if you can do it without using your arms for support. To increase the balance challenge, place a cushion under the feet.

Heel-raises

Rise up onto your toes and hold the position for a few seconds. Hold on to a bench or wall for support if you need to but gradually remove the support as your balance improves. To increase the balance challenge, try doing this with your eyes closed.

Heel-toe walking

Practise walking along an imaginary line, with one foot placed in front of the other. Hold on to a bench or wall for support if you need to but gradually remove the support as your balance improves.

Stepping in different directions

Practise quickly stepping forwards, sideways and backwards. Being able to move our feet quickly can help avoid a fall if you trip on something. If you are able, more challenging activities include stepping up or jumping onto a box.

Squats and lunges

Squats and lunges improve balance and leg strength. Add some hand weights to increase the challenge.

These examples and others can be found on the Safe Exercise at Home website.

Make it regular – and tailor it to your needs

It’s important that balance challenging exercises are performed regularly, at least three times per week. The benefits of exercise are lost if you stop doing them, so ongoing practice is important.

People of all abilities can safely undertake balance training exercise, however extra guidance and support is recommended for people who have physical limitations, are frail, or who are at a higher risk of falls.

For younger or fitter people, agility activities such as rapid stepping, dancing and running are likely to improve co-ordination and balance too.

So next time you are carrying out your exercise routine, ask yourself: what am I doing to improve my balance? Investing in balance training now can help you avoid falls, and lead to greater independence in older age.

Anne Tiedemann, Professor of Physical Activity and Health, University of Sydney; Cathie Sherrington, Professor, Institute for Musculoskeletal Health, School of Public Health, University of Sydney, and Geraldine Wallbank, Study Manager, PhD Candidate, Physiotherapist, University of Sydney

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Getting a headache and feeling sick are common side-effects for many medicines. Indulging in risky sexual behaviour or pathological gambling – not so common.

But a BBC investigation has highlighted that some drug treatments for restless leg syndrome and Parkinson’s disease can lead to such risky behaviour.

Over 150,000 people in the UK live with Parkinson’s – a degenerative condition that affects the brain. The main part of their brain that is damaged is the area that produces dopamine, a chemical messenger that regulates movement. Less dopamine in the brain can lead to symptoms such as tremors, muscle stiffness, slow movements and problems with balance.

Another movement disorder is restless legs syndrome (RLS), which affects between 5% and 10% of people in the UK, US and Europe. Twice as many women as men have RLS among those aged over 35.

People with RLS feel they need to uncontrollably move their legs, and may experience a crawling, creeping or tingling sensation in them. Usually, the symptoms are worse at night when dopamine levels tend to be lower. Although the exact cause of RLS is unknown, it has been linked to genes, underlying health conditions, and an imbalance of dopamine.

One of the main treatments for movement disorders is a group of drugs called dopamine-receptor agonists, which include cabergoline, ropinirole, bromocriptine and pramipexole. Dopamine-receptor agonists increase the levels of dopamine in the brain and help regulate movement.

Dopamine is known as the “happy” hormone because it is part of the brain’s reward system. When people do something fun or pleasurable, dopamine is released in their brain. But using dopamine-receptor agonist drugs can elevate these feelings, leading to impulsive behaviour.

While common side-effects include headaches, feeling sick and sleepiness, these drugs are also linked with the more unusual side-effect of impulse-control disorders. These include risky sexual behaviour (hypersexuality), pathological gambling, compulsive shopping, and binge eating. Hypersexuality encompasses behaviour such as a stronger-than-usual urge to have sexual activity, or being unable to resist performing a sexual act that may be harmful.

Previous reported cases include a 53-year-old woman taking ropinirole and exhibiting impulsive behaviour such as accessing internet pornography, using sex chat rooms, meeting strangers for sexual intercourse, and compulsive shopping. Another case highlighted a 32-year-old man who, after taking ropinirole, started binge eating and gambling compulsively, such that he lost his life savings.

When the drug was first being prescribed in the early 2000s, it was thought that impulse-control disorders were a rare side-effect associated with these drugs. But in 2007, a UK Medicines and Healthcare Products Regulatory Agency (MHRA) public assessment report advised that “healthcare professionals should warn patients that compulsive behaviour with dopamine agonists may be dose-related”.

Between 6% and 17% of people with RLS who take dopamine agonists develop some form of impulse-control disorder, while up to 20% of people living with Parkinson’s may experience impulse control disorders.

But the true figures may be even higher, as many some patients may not associate changes in behaviour with their medication, or may be too embarrassed to report it. Case reports show that in most instances, impulsive behaviour stops when the drug is stopped.

Lawsuits

There have been several individual and class-action lawsuits against pharmaceutical companies including GlaxoSmithKline, which produces ReQuip® (ropinirole), and Pfizer, which makes Cabaser® (cabergoline). Patients taking action against these companies claimed they were unaware of these impulsive behaviour side-effects.

For example, in 2012, a French court ordered GlaxoSmithKline to pay £160,000 in damages to Didier Jambart, after he experienced “devastating-side effects” when taking the firm’s Parkinson’s drug Requip. And in 2014, an Australian federal court approved a settlement against Pfizer for a class-action lawsuit regarding its Parkinson’s drug, Cabaser. 150 patients claimed they did not have warning of potential side-effects – including increased gambling, sex addiction and other high-risk activities – of taking Cabaser.

It is now clearer in the patient information leaflets given with all prescribed medication for movement disorders that impulsive behaviour can occur in some patients.

In 2023, the MHRA advised there had been increased reports of pathological gambling with a drug called aripiprazole. This antipsychotic drug, used in the treatment of schizophrenia and mania, partly acts as a dopamine-receptor agonist.

Any drug that increases dopamine levels could theoretically be linked to impulse control disorders, and it is important to keep monitoring patients and their behaviour in such cases.

Not everyone will experience side-effects. Before you begin any course of treatment, your doctor or pharmacist should explain the potential side-effects – but it is also important to read the information leaflet with any medicine. And if you experience any impulsive behaviours with these medicines, speak to your doctor or pharmacist immediately.

Dipa Kamdar, Senior Lecturer in Pharmacy Practice, Kingston University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Ten million people are diagnosed with dementia worldwide each year – that’s more than ever. According to the Alzheimer’s Society approximately one million people in the UK are currently living with the disease. Studies predict this figure will rise to 1.6 million people by 2050.

Alzheimer’s disease is the most common cause of dementia and leads to a decline in memory and thinking skills. This is a physical illness that causes the brain to stop working properly and gets worse over time. Identifying the onset of Alzheimer’s early can help patients and caregivers find the right support and medical care.

One way to detect Alzheimer’s early is by spotting changes to people’s use of language. This is because new speech problems are one of the first signs of a mental decline that could indicate the onset of this disease.

Here are five early, speech-related signs of Alzheimer’s disease to look out for:

1. Pauses, hesitations and vagueness

One of the most recognisable symptoms of Alzheimer’s disease is trouble remembering specific words, which can often lead to frequent or long pauses and hesitations. When a person with Alzheimer’s is struggling to remember a word, they may talk vaguely such as saying “thing”, or describing and talking around a word. For example, if someone is having trouble remembering the word dog, they may say something like “people have them as pets … they bark … I used to have one when I was a child”.

2. Using words with the wrong meaning

Trouble remembering the right word can be an early feature of Alzheimer’s. People with Alzheimer’s might replace a word they are trying to say with something related to it. For example, instead of saying “dog”, they might use an animal from the same category, saying “cat” for instance. In the early stages of Alzheimer’s disease, however, these changes are more likely to be related to a broader or more general category such as saying “animal” instead of “cat”.

3. Talking about a task rather than doing it

Someone with Alzheimer’s may struggle with completing tasks. Instead of performing a task, they may talk about their feelings toward the task, express doubts, or mention past abilities. They might say, “I’m not sure I can do this” or “I used to be good at this”, rather than discussing the task directly.

4. Less word variety

A more subtle indicator of Alzheimer’s disease is the tendency to use simpler language, relying on common words. People with Alzheimer’s often repeat the same verbs, nouns and adjectives instead of using a broader vocabulary. They can also use “the”, “and” or “but” frequently to connect sentences.

5. Difficulty finding the right words

People with Alzheimer’s can have trouble thinking of words, objects or things that belong in a group. This is sometimes used as a cognitive test for the disease. For example, those with Alzheimer’s may struggle to name things in a specific category, such as different foods, different parts of the body or words that start with the same letter. This gets harder as the disease progresses, making these tasks increasingly challenging.

Age is the biggest risk factor for developing Alzheimer’s – the chance of developing the disease doubles every five years after the age of 65. However, one in 20 people diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease are under the age of 65. This is referred to as younger – or early-onset Alzheimer’s disease.

While forgetting words now and then is normal, persistent and worsening problems remembering words, speaking fluently, or using a variety of words could be an early sign of Alzheimer’s disease. Identifying these signs early can be particularly important for people at higher risk of developing Alzheimer’s disease as they age, such as people with Down Syndrome.

Sarah Curtis, Doctoral Candidate, Language use in Down Syndrome and Alzheimer's Disease, School of Arts and Humanities, Nottingham Trent University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

A second man has died from Japanese encephalitis virus in New South Wales on March 6, the state’s health authorities confirmed on Friday. Aged in his 70s, the man was infected while holidaying in the Murrumbidgee region.

This follows the death of another man in his 70s in Sydney last month, after holidaying in the same region in January.

Japanese encephalitis virus has also been detected for the first time in mosquitoes collected in Brisbane’s eastern suburbs, Queensland health authorities confirmed on Saturday.

With mosquito activity expected to increase thanks to flooding rains brought by Ex-Tropical Cyclone Alfred, it’s important to protect yourself from mosquito bites.

What is Japanese encephalitis virus?

Japanese encephalitis is one of the most serious diseases that spreads via mosquitoes, with around 68,000 cases annually across Southeast Asia and Western Pacific regions.

The virus is thought to be maintained in a cycle between mosquitoes and waterbirds. Mosquitoes are infected when they feed from an infected waterbird. They then pass the virus to other waterbirds. Sometimes other animals, and people, can be infected.

Pigs are also a host, and the virus has spread through commercial piggeries in Victoria, NSW and Queensland. (But it poses no food safety risk.)

Feral pigs and other animals can also play a role in transmission cycles.

What are the symptoms?

Most people infected show no symptoms.

People with mild cases may have a fever, headache and vomiting.

In more serious cases – about one in 250 people infected – people may have neck stiffness, disorientation, drowsiness and seizures. Serious illness can have life-long neurological complications and, in some cases, the infection can be life-threatening.

There’s no specific treatment for the disease.

When did Japanese encephalitis get to Australia and why is it in Brisbane?

Outbreaks of Japanese encephalitis had occurred in the Torres Strait during the 1990s. The virus was also detected in the Cape York Peninsula in 1998.

There had been no evidence of activity on the mainland since 2004 but everything changed in the summer of 2021–22. Japanese encephalitis virus was detected in commercial piggeries in southeastern Australia during that summer.

This prompted the declaration of a Communicable Disease Incident of National Significance. At the time, flooding accompanying the La Niña-dominated weather patterns and a resulting boom in mosquito numbers, and waterbird populations, was thought responsible.

The virus has spread in subsequent years and has been detected in the mosquito and arbovirus surveillance programs as well as detection in feral pigs and commercial piggeries in most states and territories. Only Tasmania has remained free of Japanese encephalitis virus.

Human cases of infection have also been reported. There were more than 50 cases of disease and seven deaths in 2022.

Cases of Japanese encephalitis have already been reported from Queensland in 2025.

Due to concern about Japanese encephalitis virus and other mosquito-borne pathogens, health authorities around Australia have expanded and enhanced their surveillance programs.

In Queensland, this includes mosquito monitoring at a number of locations, including urban areas of southeast Queensland. Mosquitoes collected in this monitoring program tested positive for Japanese encephalitis virus, promoting the current health warnings.

Why is its detection in Brisbane important?

Up to now, scientists have thought the risk of Japanese encephalitis was likely greatest following seasons of above-average rainfall or flooding. This provides ideal conditions for waterbirds and mosquitoes.

But the activity of Japanese encephalitis virus over the summer of 2024–25 has taken many scientists by surprise. Before Ex-Tropical Cyclone Alfred arrived, there had been somewhat dry conditions with less waterbird activity and low mosquito numbers in many regions of eastern Australia.

However there has still been widespread Japanese encephalitis virus activity in Victoria, NSW and Queensland.

To date, Japanese encephalitis virus activity hasn’t extended to the coastal regions of southeast Queensland. The detection of the virus in suburban Brisbane may require authorities to rethink exactly where the virus may turn up next. Authorities are ramping up their surveillance to see just how widespread the virus is in the region.

Health authorities and scientists are also trying to understand how the virus moved from western areas of the state to the coast and what drives virus transmission in different regions.

There is currently no evidence the virus is active in coastal regions of northern NSW.

What can people do to protect themselves?

Avoiding mosquito bites is the best way to reduce the risk of Japanese encephalitis virus.

Cover up with long-sleeved shirts and long pants for a physical barrier against mosquito bites.

Use topical insect repellents containing DEET, picaridin, or oil of lemon eucalyptus. Be sure to apply an even coat on all exposed areas of skin for the longest-lasting protection.

Ensure any insect screens on houses, tents and caravans are in good repair and reduce the amount of standing water in the backyard. The more water there is around your home, the more opportunities for mosquitoes there are.

A safe and effective vaccine is available against Japanese encephalitis. Each state and territory health authority (for example Queensland, NSW, Victoria) have specific recommendations about access to vaccinations.

It may take many weeks following vaccination to achieve sufficient protection, so prioritise reducing your exposure to bites in the meantime.

Cameron Webb, Clinical Associate Professor and Principal Hospital Scientist, University of Sydney and Andrew van den Hurk, Medical Entomologist, The University of Queensland

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

One in six Australians have hearing loss and, for most adults, hearing starts to decline from middle age onwards.

Many of us, however, hesitate to seek help or testing for our hearing. Perhaps you’re afraid you’ll be told to wear hearing aids, and envision the large and bulky hearing aids you might have seen on your grandparents decades ago.

In fact, hearing aids have changed a lot since then. They’re often now very small; some are barely noticeable. And hearing aids aren’t the only option available for people experiencing hearing loss.

Why you shouldn’t ignore hearing loss

Acquired hearing loss can have a serious impact on our life. It is associated with or can contribute to:

• social isolation
• loneliness
• not being able to work as much, or at all
• memory problems
• trouble thinking clearly
• conditions such as dementia.

Hearing loss has also been associated with depression, anxiety and stress. A systematic review and meta-analysis found adults with hearing loss are 1.5 times more likely to experience depression than those without hearing loss.

A large population study in the US found self-reported hearing loss was associated with:

• higher levels of psychological distress
• increased use of antidepressant and anti-anxiety medications, and
• greater utilisation of mental health services.

The good news is that doing something about your hearing loss can help you live a happier and longer life.

So why don’t people get their hearing checked?

Research has found adults with hearing loss typically wait ten years to seek help for their hearing.

Less than a quarter of those who need hearing aids actually go ahead with them.

Hearing declines slowly, so people may perceive their hearing difficulties aren’t concerning. They may feel they’re now used to not being able to hear properly, without fully appreciating the impact it’s having on their life.

Some people harbour negative attitudes to hearing aids or don’t think they’ll actually help.

Others may have overheard their partner, family or friends say negative things or make jokes about hearing aids, which can put people off getting their hearing checked.

Stigma can play a big part.

People often associate hearing loss with negative stereotypes such as ageing, weakness and “being different”.

Our recent research found that around one in four people never tell anyone about their hearing loss because of experiences of stigma.

Adults with hearing loss who experience stigma and choose not to disclose their hearing loss were also likely not to go ahead with hearing aids, we found.

What are my options for helping my hearing?

The first step in helping your hearing is to have a hearing check with a hearing care professional such as an an audiologist. You can also speak to your GP.

If you’ve got hearing loss, hearing aids aren’t the only option.

Others include:

• other assistive listening devices (such as amplified phones, personal amplifiers and TV headphones)
• doing a short course or program (such as the Active Communication Education program developed via University of Queensland researchers) aimed at giving you strategies to manage your hearing, for instance, in noisy environments
• monitoring your hearing with regular checkups
• strategies for protecting your hearing in future (such as wearing earplugs or earmuffs in loud environments, and not having headphone speakers too loud)
• a cochlear implant (if hearing loss is severe)

Hearing care professionals should take a holistic approach to hearing rehabilitation.

That means coming up with individualised solutions based on your preferences and circumstances.

What are modern hearing aids like?

If you do need hearing aids, it’s worth knowing there are several different types. All modern hearing aids are extremely small and discrete.

Some sit behind your ear, while others sit within your ear. Some look the same as air pods.

Some are even completely invisible. These hearing aids are custom fitted to sit deep within your ear canal and contain no external tubes and wires.

Some types of hearing aids are more expensive than others, but even the basic styles are discrete.

In Australia, children and many adults are eligible for free or subsidised hearing services and many health funds offer hearing aid rebates as part of their extras cover.

Despite being small, modern hearing aids have advanced technology including the ability to:

• reduce background noise
• direct microphones to where sound is coming from (directional microphones)
• use Bluetooth so you can hear audio from your phone, TV and other devices directly in your hearing aids.

When used with a smartphone, some hearing aids can even track your health, detect if you have fallen, and translate languages in real time.

What should I do next?

If you think you might be having hearing difficulties or are curious about the status of your hearing, then it’s a good idea to get a hearing check.

The earlier you do something about your hearing, the greater the likelihood that you can prevent further hearing decline and reduce other health risks.

And rest assured, there’s a suitable option for everyone.

Katie Ekberg, Senior Lecturer, College of Nursing and Health Sciences, Flinders University and Barbra Timmer, Senior Lecturer and Researcher in Audiology, The University of Queensland

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

This month marks a decade since Netflix – the world’s most influential and widely subscribed streaming service – launched in Australia.

Since then the media landscape has undergone significant transformation, particularly in terms of how we consume content. According to a 2024 Deloitte report, Australians aged 16–38 spent twice as much time watching subscription streaming services as free-to-air TV (both live and on-demand).

Part of the success of streaming services lies in their ability to provide content that feels handpicked. And this is made possible through the use of sophisticated recommender systems fuelled by vast amounts of user data.

As streaming viewership continues to rise, so too do the risks associated with how these platforms collect and handle user data.

Changing methods of data collection

Subscription streaming platforms aren’t the first to collect user data. They just do it differently.

Broadcasters have always been invested in collecting viewers’ information (via TV ratings) to inform promotional schedules and attract potential advertisers. These data are publicly available.

In Australia, TV data are collected anonymously via the OzTam TV ratings system, based on the viewing habits of more than 12,000 individuals.

Each television in a recruited household is connected to a metering box. Members of the household select a letter that corresponds to them, after which the box records their viewing data, including the program, channel and viewing time. But this system doesn’t include broadcasters’ video-on-demand services, which have been around since the late 2000s (with ABC iView being the first).

In 2016 a new system was launched to measure broadcast video-on-demand data separately from OzTam ratings.

However, it collected data in a rolling seven-day report, in the form of total minutes a particular program had been watched online (rather than the number of individuals watching, as was the measurement for TV). This meant the two data sources couldn’t be combined.

In 2018, OzTAM and Nielsen announced the Virtual Australia (VoZ) database which would integrate both broadcast TV and video-on-demand data. It took six years following the announcement for the VoZ system to become the industry’s official trading currency.

Streamers’ approach

Streaming platforms such as Netflix have a markedly different approach to acquiring data, as they can source it directly from users. These data are therefore much more granular, larger in volume, and far less publicly accessible due to commercial confidence.

In recent years, Netflix has shared some of its viewing data through a half-yearly report titled What We Watched. It offers macro-level details such as total hours watched that year, as well as information about specific content, including how many times a particular show was viewed.

Netflix also supplies information to its shareholders, although much of this focuses on subscriber numbers rather than specific user details.

The best publicly accessible Netflix data we have is presented on its Tudum website, which includes global Top 10 lists that can be filtered by country.

The main data Netflix doesn’t share are related to viewer demographics: who is watching what programs.

Why does it matter?

Ratings and user data offer valuable insights to both broadcasters and streaming services, and can influence decisions regarding what content is produced.

User data would presumably have been a significant factor in Netflix‘s decision to move into live content such as stand-up comedy, the US National Football League (NFL) and an exclusive US$5 billion deal with World Wrestling Entertainment.

Streaming companies also use personal data to provide users with targeted viewing suggestions, with an aim to reduce the time users spend browsing catalogues.

Netflix has an entire research department dedicated to enhancing user experience. According to Justin Basilico, Netflix’s Director of Machine Learning and Recommender Systems, more than 80% of what Netflix users watch is driven by its recommender system.

As noted in its privacy statement, Netflix draws on a range of information to provide recommendations, including:

• the user’s interactions with the service, such as their viewing history and title ratings
• other users with similar tastes and preferences
• information about the titles, such as genre, categories, actors and release year
• the time of day the user is watching
• the language/s the user prefers
• the device/s they are watching on
• how long they watch a particular Netflix title.

If a user isn’t happy with their recommendations, they can try to change them by editing their viewing and ratings history.

Personalised or predetermined?

The rise of streaming hasn’t only transformed how we watch TV, but also how our viewing habits are tracked and how this information informs future decisions.

While traditional broadcasters have long relied on sample anonymised data to measure engagement, streaming platforms operate in a landscape in which detailed user data can be used to shape content, recommendations and business decisions.

While personalisation makes streaming more appealing, it also raises important questions about privacy, transparency and control. How much do streaming platforms really know about us? And are they catering to our preferences – or shaping them?

Marc C-Scott, Associate Professor of Screen Media | Deputy Associate Dean of Learning & Teaching, Victoria University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Part of the world’s biggest mega-science facility – the SKA Observatory – is being built in outback Western Australia.

After decades of planning, countless hours of work, and more than a few setbacks, an early working version of the telescope has captured its first glimpse of the sky.

Using 1,024 of what will eventually be 131,072 radio antennas, the first SKA-Low image shows a tiny sliver of sky dotted with ancient galaxies billions of light-years from Earth.

This first snapshot shows the system works, and will improve dramatically in the coming months and years – and starts a new chapter in our exploration of the universe.

A glimpse of the universe

The SKA-Low telescope is currently under construction on Wajarri Yamaji Country in Western Australia, around 600 kilometres north of Perth. Together with the SKA-Mid telescope (under construction in South Africa), the two telescopes will make up the world’s largest and most sensitive radio observatory.

SKA-Low will consist of thousands of antennas spread across a vast area. It is designed to detect low-frequency radio signals from some of the most distant and ancient objects in the universe.

The first image, made using just 1,024 of the planned 131,000 antennas, is remarkably clear, confirming that the complex systems for transmitting and processing data from the antennas are working properly. Now we can move on to more detailed observations to analyse and verify the telescope’s scientific output.

Bright galaxies, billions of years old

The image shows a patch of the sky, approximately 25 square degrees in area, as seen in radio waves.

Twenty-five square degrees is an area of sky that would fit 100 full Moons. For comparison, it would be about the area of sky that a small apple would cover if you held it at arm’s length.

The dots in the image look like stars, but are actually some of the brightest galaxies in the universe. These galaxies are billions of light-years away, so the galaxies we are seeing now were emitting this light when the universe was half its current age.

They are so bright because each of these distant galaxies contains a supermassive black hole. Gas orbiting around black holes is very hot and moves very quickly, emitting energy in X-rays and radio waves. SKA-Low can detect these radio waves that have travelled billions of light years across the universe to reach Earth.

The world’s largest radio telescope

SKA-Low and SKA-Mid are both being built by the SKAO, a global project to build cutting-edge telescopes that will revolutionise our understanding of the universe and deliver benefits to society. (SKA stands for “square kilometre array”, describing the initial estimated collecting area of all the antennas and radio dishes put together.)

My own involvement in the project began in 2014. Since then I, along with many local and international colleagues, have deployed and verified several prototype systems on the path to SKA-Low. To now be part of the team that is making the first images with the rapidly growing telescope is extremely satisfying.

A complex system with no moving parts

SKA-Low will be made up of 512 aperture arrays (or stations), each comprised of 256 antennas.

Unlike traditional telescopes, aperture arrays have no moving parts, which makes them easier to maintain. The individual antennas receive signals from all directions at once and – to produce images – we use complex mathematics to combine the signals from each individual antenna and “steer” the telescope.

The advantages and flexibility of aperture arrays come at the cost of complex signal processing and software systems. Any errors in signal timing, calibration or processing can distort the final image or introduce noise.

For this reason, the successful production of the first image is a key validation – it can only happen if the entire system is working.

The shape of the universe and beyond

Once completed, SKA-Low promises to transform our understanding of the early universe.

The antennas of the full telescope will be spread across an area approximately 70 kilometres in diameter, making it the most sensitive low-frequency radio array ever built.

This unprecedented sensitivity to low-frequency radio signals will allow scientists to detect the faint signals from the first stars and galaxies that formed after the Big Bang – the so-called “cosmic dawn”. SKA-Low will be the first radio telescope capable of imaging this very early period of our universe.

It will also help map the large-scale structure of the universe. We expect the telescope will also provide new insights into cosmic magnetism, the behaviour of interstellar gas, and the mysterious nature of dark matter and dark energy.

The sensitivity and resolution of SKA-Low gives it a huge discovery potential. Seven out of the top 10 discoveries from the Hubble Space Telescope were not part of the original science motivation. Like the HST, SKA-Low promises to be a transformative telescope. Who knows what new discoveries await?

What’s next

SKA-Low’s commissioning process will ramp up over the course of the year, as more antenna arrays are installed and brought online. With each additional station, the sensitivity and resolution of the telescope will increase. This growth will also bring greater technical challenges in handling the growing complexity and data rates.

By the end of 2025, SKA-Low is expected to have 16 working stations. The increased volume of output data at this stage will be the next major test for the telescope’s software systems.

By the end of 2026, the array is planned to expand to 68 working stations at which point it will be the the most sensitive low-frequency radio telescope on Earth.

This phase will be the next big test of the end-to-end telescope system. When we get to this stage, the same field you see in the image above will be able to comprehensively map and detect up to 600,000 galaxies. I’m personally looking forward to helping bring it together.

Randall Wayth, SKA-Low Senior Commissioning Scientist and Adjunct Associate Professor, Curtin Institute of Radio Astronomy, Curtin University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Deep observations from the James Webb Space Telescope (JWST) have revealed an exceptionally large galaxy in the early universe. It’s a cosmic giant whose light has travelled over 12 billion years to reach us. We’ve dubbed it the Big Wheel, with our findings published today in Nature Astronomy.

This giant disk galaxy existed within the first two billion years after the Big Bang, meaning it formed when the universe was just 15% of its current age. It challenges what we know about how galaxies form.

What is a disk galaxy?

Picture a galaxy like our own Milky Way: a flat, rotating structure made up of stars, gas and dust, often surrounded by an extensive halo of unseen dark matter.

Disk galaxies typically have clear spiral arms extending outward from a dense central region. Our Milky Way itself is a disk galaxy, characterised by beautiful spiral arms that wrap around its centre.

Studying disk galaxies, like the Milky Way and the newly discovered Big Wheel, helps us uncover how galaxies form, grow and evolve across billions of years.

These studies are especially significant, as understanding galaxies similar to our own can provide deeper insights into the cosmic history of our galactic home.

A giant surprise

We previously thought galaxy disks form gradually over a long period: either through gas smoothly flowing into galaxies from surrounding space, or by merging with smaller galaxies.

Usually, rapid mergers between galaxies would disrupt the delicate spiral structures, turning them into more chaotic shapes. However, the Big Wheel managed to quickly grow to a surprisingly large size without losing its distinctive spiral form. This challenges long-held ideas about the growth of giant galaxies.

Our detailed JWST observations show that the Big Wheel is comparable in size and rotational speed to the largest “super-spiral” galaxies in today’s universe. It is three times as big in size as comparable galaxies at that epoch and is one of the most massive galaxies observed in the early cosmos.

In fact, its rotation speed places it among galaxies at the high end of what’s called the Tully-Fisher relation, a well-known link between a galaxy’s stellar mass and how fast it spins.

Remarkably, even though it’s unusually large, the Big Wheel is actively growing at a rate similar to other galaxies at the same cosmic age.

Unusually crowded part of space

What makes this even more fascinating is the environment in which the Big Wheel formed.

It’s located in an unusually crowded region of space, where galaxies are packed closely together, ten times denser than typical areas of the universe. This dense environment likely provided ideal conditions for the galaxy to grow quickly. It probably experienced mergers that were gentle enough to let the galaxy maintain its spiral disk shape.

Additionally, the gas flowing into the galaxy must have aligned well with its rotation, allowing the disk to grow quickly without being disrupted. So, a perfect combination.

A fortunate finding

Discovering a galaxy like the Big Wheel was incredibly unlikely. We had less than a 2% chance to find this in our survey, according to current galaxy formation models.

So, our finding was fortunate, probably because we observed it within an exceptionally dense region, quite different from typical cosmic environments.

Besides its mysterious formation, the ultimate fate of the Big Wheel is another intriguing question. Given the dense environment, future mergers might significantly alter its structure, potentially transforming it into a galaxy comparable in mass to the largest ones observed in nearby clusters, such as Virgo.

The Big Wheel’s discovery has revealed yet another mystery of the early universe, showing that our current models of galaxy evolution still need refinement.

With more observations and discoveries of massive, early galaxies like the Big Wheel, astronomers will be able to unlock more secrets about how the universe built the structures we see today.

Themiya Nanayakkara, Lead Astronomer at the James Webb Australian Data Centre, Swinburne University of Technology

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Late last week, corporate watchdog the Australian Securities and Investments Commission (ASIC) issued a warning to lenders that provide high-fee small-amount loans – known as payday lenders – that they may be breaching consumer-lending laws.

Trying to provide effective protections to borrowers of these small loans is fiendishly difficult. People in financial hardship turn to payday loans, even though they are expensive. Lenders can charge high fees for such loans but may change products to avoid regulation.

If access to payday loans dries up, borrowers in need are likely to turn to other products. And so the cycle begins again.

The regulator’s report might be a prompt to government to think about other strategies.

What is payday lending and why is it a concern?

Payday lending is the name commonly given to loans of small amounts (under A$2,000) for short periods of time (16 days to one year) that promise quick credit checks and don’t require collateral.

They are called payday loans because the original idea was borrowers would pay them back when they got their next pay cheque. But often that is not how it works, and borrowers struggle to repay.

ASIC said the total value of small and medium loans provided to consumers in 2023–24 was $1.3 billion. An earlier study by Consumer Action Law Centre found 4.7 million individual payday loans were written over three years to July 2019.

Why do borrowers use (expensive) payday loans?

Small, short-term loans like payday loans have been around for a long time – and in part, they respond to a reality that, for many people, their income is not sufficient to give them buffers.

Payday loans can be used by borrowers who don’t have savings or credit cards to pay for one-off unexpected bills – a broken fridge, an emergency medical appointment or even utilities bills. But they can also be used to meet daily living expenses.

There are limited other practical options – for some types of bills, there are hardship schemes, but these are not always well-known. For one-off expenses, there are low and no-interest loan schemes but they can be quite restrictive. Free financial counselling may also help, but knowledge and access can be an issue.

Why were new laws dealing with payday loans introduced?

Payday lenders have typically charged very high fees. In 2013, concerns about the high cost of payday loans led to specific provisions to limit the fees that could be charged.

Nonetheless, regulators and consumer advocates remain concerned these kinds of loans lock borrowers into debt spirals because they keep accumulating and that lenders manage to avoid many of the restrictions.

Further reforms in 2022 introduced a presumption a loan is unsuitable if the borrower has already taken out two payday loans in the preceding 90 days. The reforms also prohibit payday lenders from offering loans where the repayments would exceed a prescribed proportion of a borrower’s income.

What did ASIC say?

ASIC said it found a trend of payday lenders moving borrowers who previously might have borrowed relatively small amounts ($700 to $2,000) to medium-sized loans ($2,000 to $5,000), which are not subject to the same consumer protections.

The regulator said small loan credit contracts fell from 80% of loans in the December quarter of 2022 to less than 60% of loans by the August 2023 quarter.

It said it was concerned by this approach and reminded lenders they were still subject to the reasonable lending regime. This effectively means not lending amounts that would be unsuitable for borrowers.

Why are payday lenders moving consumers to larger loans?

It’s a concern that lenders change products to avoid restrictive rules. But it is not altogether surprising.

One response from increasing restrictions on one form of credit might be that lenders decide to focus on other, less restricted, products like medium-sized loans – this is what ASIC seems to have found.

This is problematic if those larger loans are not meeting consumers’ needs and objectives (for instance, if they only needed a smaller amount), or complying with the loan would cause substantial hardship. It’s important to remind lenders that the responsible lending obligations apply to medium size loans, and for ASIC to take enforcement action where appropriate.

What might be a better approach?

The ASIC report highlights the increasing complexity of the National Consumer Credit Act regime – with the standard obligations complemented by specific and unique rules for a range of credit products. These include small amount credit, standard home loans, credit cards, reverse mortgages, and Buy Now Pay Later.

It’s worth thinking about whether a better strategy might be to go back to a simpler approach, where one set of rules applied to all consumer credit products. Regulatory exceptions and qualifications are minimised.

If access to payday loans becomes more restrictive, borrowers are likely to turn to other products. This means ASIC should also be looking at other products that are used to provide short-term small loans. These are likely to include buy now pay later schemes and pawn broking.

Buy now pay later products are subject to their own regulations, including responsible lending obligations. But pawn brokers aren’t covered by the Consumer Credit laws and are subject to little regulatory scrutiny. This is also something that should change.

We also need to consider whether there are financial inclusion options not dependent on lenders out to make a profit from borrowers struggling with the cost of living.

Jeannie Marie Paterson, Professor of Law (consumer protections and credit law), The University of Melbourne and Nicola Howell, Senior lecturer, Queensland University of Technology

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

In the Miles Franklin archive in the State Library of New South Wales there are two brown, cloth-bound volumes, titled, “When I was Mary-Anne, A Slavey”. The thick, handwritten pages are amended with glued paper inserts copied from the missing diary the author of My Brilliant Career kept for roughly a year between April 1903 and April 1904.

In an accompanying summary, on which Franklin based her 1904 letter to the Bulletin about the experience, she wrote:

Some people wonder what domestic servants have to complain about […] No one could understand the depth of the silent feud between mistress and maid without, in their own person, testing the matter …

There is a picture of Franklin in the archive too, dressed in her “get up”: a black-and-white tunic and apron, with a lacy parlour cap pinned atop her piled-up brunette hair. The photograph, taken in a studio in Melbourne, is captioned “yr little mary-anne”. She beckons you into her impersonation.

Along with the letters Franklin wrote or received during the year, the summary and photo authenticate her little known upstairs–downstairs experiment in Sydney and Melbourne, which she details in the manuscript. She cooked in flammable kitchens, plunged her hands into steaming washing up, and swept the dust that scattered behind her employers’ shoes.

In today’s Instagram culture, it is improbable that a celebrity like Franklin could work incognito and not be recognised. But this was the Edwardian era of the early 1900s, when a photograph was a special occasion and names were known more widely than faces. Franklin loved that a lady she’d once met at a government reception unknowingly flung her coat at her when she opened the door, and that she stoked the fire while guests discussed My Brilliant Career.

Bronte of the bush

Aged 21, Franklin dazzled Australia with her debut novel. Published in 1901, My Brilliant Career inspired young women to write to her about their own frustrations and dreams. She denied her novel was autobiographical, to little effect. She was compared to novelist Charlotte Bronte and to Marie Bashkirtseff, the Russian–Parisian teen artist who declared in her memoir, “I am my own heroine”.

Despite Franklin’s later fervent wish that My Brilliant Career’s heroine, Sybylla Melvyn, would be forgotten, the book endured. It became a feminist literary classic, and in 1979 a film, produced by Margaret Fink and directed by Gillian Armstrong. Today, her cultural touchstone continues with her bequest of the Miles Franklin Literary Award and recent stage adaptations of My Brilliant Career. The Stella literary prize is named in her honour, after her first given name, Stella Maria Sarah Miles Franklin.

Franklin’s iconic success is, however, misleading. Like many authors, she experienced fame and acclaim, but minimal royalties, in part due to an unfair contract for colonial authors with her Edinburgh publisher, William Blackwood and Sons. Books were also a luxury during the punishing Federation drought, which lasted from 1895 to 1902.

Franklin could have married. Her grandmother took every opportunity to remind her she was expected to wed. “Have you found anyone you like better than yourself?” she archly asked.

Instead, she disappeared into undercover journalism.

Stunt girl reporters

Franklin was likely inspired by the “gonzo” women journalists known as “girl stunt reporters”, who disrupted male-dominated journalism in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

To prove their journalistic chops, they risked their safety and health to go undercover and expose factory exploitation and illegal abortion clinics. Most famously, New York reporter Nellie Bly feigned hysteria to gain admission to the city’s public women’s mental health institution for ten days in 1887. Their stories captivated audiences, as much as their daring.

American journalist Elizabeth Banks transported the trend to London, where she worked as a servant, leaving her poodle, Judge, with a friend. Her reports in “In Cap and Apron” for the Weekly Sun caused a sensation, and Banks’ memoir Autobiography of a Newspaper Girl was reviewed in Australia in late 1902 and early 1903.

Apart from Catherine Hay Thomson’s investigation of Kew Asylum and Melbourne Hospital in 1886, the “stunt girl reporter” only noticeably appeared in Australia in 1903.

That year, the fledgling New Idea magazine published a series of undercover articles, including about experiences such as working in a tobacco factory and applying for domestic service at an employment agency. Unlike Franklin, the New Idea journalist stopped there, while Franklin spent a full, gruelling year as a servant.

The “servant question” was an ideal local investigation. The newly federated Australia was growing due to the wool industry – “on the sheep’s back”. But in the cities, factories were an alternative engine for young women’s employment rather than domestic service. Fretting “mistresses” complained about the dearth of remaining girls available.

Servants retorted that if they were treated better, perhaps they would stay. One suggested scandalously that mistresses should give references about how they treat servants to prospective hires, pre-dating contemporary suggestions that owners and agencies should prove their fitness as landlords to tenants.

The debate around “the servant question” exposed Australia’s myth of equality. Franklin’s family was no exception. While drought drove her parents off their farm, Stillwater, to a plot in Penrith (then a rural town outside Sydney), they were cultured and educated. Franklin’s wealthy grandmother ran a station in the Snowy Mountains, on which Franklin based the elegant homestead, Caddagat, in My Brilliant Career. A governess or nurse was acceptable, she wrote in her accompanying summary to her manuscript, but “a servant raised considerable horror among my circle”.

Franklin was undeterred. As well as a new writing project, she needed money and a roof if she wanted to live in the city rather than at home. Suffragette Rose Scott, who called Franklin her “spirit child”, invited her to stay. But while Franklin appreciated the support, at times Rose was suffocating.

Revealing the independent streak that would define her life, Franklin wrote, “it was imperative I get work to sustain myself”.

‘This suppression!’

Franklin’s real servant pseudonym was “Sarah Frankling”, a play on her middle name and her surname. “Mary-Anne”, at the time a well known slang name for servants, was only used for the manuscript, to hide identities.

Franklin’s live-in domestic servant positions included kitchen maid, parlour maid and “general” servant. She worked in a terrace she dubbed a “cubby house”, an upmarket boarding house, a harbourside villa, a wealthy merchant home, and mansions in Sydney and Melbourne. Franklin stayed a maximum of two months at each post for a year in total, after which she planned to write.

Senator and High Court judge Richard Edward O’Connor and his large family were her most high-profile employer. Their mansion, Keston, which is close to the prime minister’s Sydney residence, Kirribilli House, and the boarding house around the corner survive, as does the terrace, near Bronte in the city’s eastern suburbs. All are now apartment buildings.

In the manuscript, Franklin recounts that she rapidly lost weight and felt her spirit become “suppressed” by the monotony and tiring nature of servant work. Depending on the number of staff and her duties, she hand-rolled heavy, wet clothes through a washing mangle; served pre-breakfast tea and toast in bed, which she thought was an obscene indulgence; cooked and served full hot breakfasts and dinners daily; waited on guests in the boarding house’s dining room, nicknamed “the zoo”; cleaned the guest rooms and parlours; and helped at high-society balls. She kept fires burning in winter and sweated through heavy housework and cooking in summer.

The hours were brutal. She usually woke at dawn, and only finished after the evening dinners were served, or if she was a kitchen maid, after she cleaned the mess away. Not all her employers offered a luxurious whole afternoon off per week. She worked through burns sustained on the job, and was brought to tears by a mistress who ordered her to change her carefully arranged hair. The house’s Irish cook opined that the mistress was threatened by Franklin’s “toy figure” and “fairy face”.

As the months passed at different employers, fatigue turned to anger, and loneliness to friendships with fellow servants. It is heartening to see a snobby young Franklin mature and change as she rubbed tired elbows with those she previously saw as beneath her status. She cheekily flirted with a lovestruck tradie, just as she traded Shakespearian quips with an intrigued young naval officer staying at the posh boarding house.

When Scott learned Franklin was working as a servant, she chided her for not refusing the conditions as an example to others. However, Franklin knew any insolence or objection meant instant dismissal, ruining her research and current livelihood.

Scott also misread Franklin’s long-term goal – writing the servant book. In her diary, Franklin recorded what she could not say out loud. She cynically noted that “to be sensitive would be unfortunate” for a servant. “The maid must not want for pleasure,” Franklin warned, “because she will have no time to gratify it”. Be presentable but not too pretty, she advised; be polite but not so fancy or fussy to refuse tiny, “ill-aired” servant quarters next to the laundry.

The servant year confirmed her lifelong views of marriage as stifling. Echoing My Brilliant Career, Franklin vented her feminist frustration in the diary entries. She wrote of the terrace’s “Mistress”: “sooth, when a woman of ordinary intelligence gives the whole of her time, brain and energy to the running of a miniature establishment”.

As for the husband, an irritated Franklin wrote that he was “boss of his own backyard and lord of his little suburban dining room”.

Biographers brush over servant year

Biographies of Miles Franklin have largely followed the traditional “cradle to grave” of her life, in which the critical servant year has been brushed over like a quick sweep of the biographical floor. One of Franklin’s first biographers, Marjorie Barnard, dismissed Mary-Anne as of little interest.

Jill Roe, author of the epic biography Stella Miles Franklin, read the existing Mary-Anne draft manuscript, describing it in her book as Franklin’s “social experiment”. Yet even Roe is succinct about Mary-Anne, compared to other years in Franklin’s eventful life. Roe lists Franklin’s known servant employers, admires her pluck and commiserates over it not being published due to concerns she had defamed her employers. (Franklin’s pseudonyms for her employers were chiffon thin, so easily identifiable.)

There were other intractable problems too with the manuscript, though Franklin may have edited another draft before submitting it for publication. The existing draft is overlong, unwieldy and inconsistent in its point of view. Franklin switches between “I” and later, “Mary-Anne”, as if she fully collapses into her servant life.

Despite her failure to find a publisher for her manuscript, Franklin continued her journalism. She began writing for the Sydney Morning Herald, which suited her fast writing style, and helped her earn money with a pen.

In 1908, Franklin joined the women’s trade union movement and advocated for working women, all the while working on her own novel, writing and resisting the status quo of the Edwardian era. She finally returned to literary acclaim with the award-winning All That Swagger in 1936, a colonial saga of a pioneering family, and another historical series she wrote under the pseudonym “Brent of Bin Bin”.

Upon her death in 1954, tributes reported that “Australian literature lost one of its great figures”.

The ‘servant question’ remains

Franklin’s investigation of the servant question now seems quaint. Appliances have changed from washing mangles and melting iceboxes to sleek stainless steel and glossy white machines that beep and hum in the background.

Yet demand for service remains. “Servants” are still in our lives; they just answer to an app rather than a bell. They clean our houses while we are out, or they are chefs on call who cook meals delivered by mobile waiters on electric bikes and scooters who brave traffic as they dash to door to door. Uber and Dido chauffeurs compete to pick us up from wherever we happen to be.

The exploitation remains, too. At the extreme, the Sri Lankan Embassy in Canberra has been ordered to pay $117,000 in back wages to its domestic servant, paid 90 cents an hour. More broadly, Fair Work last year moved to protect gig workers in the share economy, recognising its endemic lack of rights and risks.

Since Franklin’s Mary-Anne, low-wage service work has been revisited periodically by writers interested in social justice. In 1933, inspired by Jack London, George Orwell chronicled the months he spent impoverished and doing menial jobs in Down and Out in Paris and London.

In 2001, Barbara Ehrenreich published the acclaimed Nickel and Dimed, about working and living on minimum wage. Elisabeth Wynhausen wrote an Australian version, Dirt Cheap: Life at the wrong end of the job market in 2005. Alexandrea J. Ravenelle brought the history full circle in 2019 with her collected stories of 80 gig economy workers in her book, Hustle and Gig. All these authors had similar conclusions to Franklin: low-wage service work is grinding and exploitative.

At its core, the servant question hasn’t changed at all since Franklin’s investigation over a hundred years ago.

Miles Franklin Undercover by Kerrie Davies is published by Allen & Unwin

Kerrie Davies, Senior Lecturer, School of the Arts & Media, UNSW Sydney

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Australia already has the highest gambling losses globally. Now, new data show that between 2015 and 2022, the number of Australian men involved in sports betting has increased substantially. And for younger men, the rate of betting has surged more than 60%.

The latest data from the comprehensive Household, Income and Labour Dynamics in Australia (HILDA) Survey shows that in 2015, 5.9% of all men bet on sports. By 2022, 9.3% of men did. This represents a 57.6% increase in seven years. And among men who gamble, almost a quarter bet on sports, up from 14% in 2015.

The HILDA survey follows about 17,000 people every year and collects information on various aspects of their lives. The survey asked several questions in 2015, 2018, and 2022 related to gambling – including gambling types, spending, and gambling harm.

As more men gamble on sports, spending on sports betting has also risen. In December 2022 prices, men’s typical average self-reported monthly spend sports betting climbed from A$85.95 in 2015 to almost $110 in 2022.

The rising trends in sports betting are especially concerning given evidence gambling is strongly associated with undesirable consequences such as poor social, financial and psychological outcomes.

Younger people are betting more

Underlying the increase in sports betting are notable differences across age groups, shown in the figure below.

The increase in sports betting over this period occurred mainly among younger Australians. In fact, the rate of sports betting jumped by between 62% and 66% in men aged 18 to 44.

Because younger people tend to gamble more online than in venues like a casino or the pokies, aggressive online advertising on social media and the use of betting apps make sports betting easier and more accessible.

In all three survey years, the prevalence of sports betting is lower among older age groups, especially people aged 45 and older. In 2022, for example, 2.7% of Australians 65 and older reported betting on sports, whereas 14.9% of people aged 25–34 did.

Gambling harm is becoming worse

There are also worrying trends regarding gambling harm.

Gambling harm is measured using the Problem Gambling Severity Index, which is constructed from responses to nine questions about the frequency of gambling-related risks or harms over a 12-month period. Respondents’ gambling behaviours are then classified as either “non-problem”, “low-risk”, “moderate-risk” or “high-risk”.

Among those men engaged in at least some sports betting, the proportion reporting high-risk gambling problems grew from 6.3% in 2015 to 8.7% in 2022. Based on 2022 population estimates from the Australian Bureau of Statistics, this suggests that among male sports gamblers, just over 105,000 are high-risk gamblers – a significant minority.

And while more young men engage in sports betting, younger age groups are also increasingly likely to experience gambling harm. In 2022, almost one in five of all Australian men aged 18 to 34 reported at least some gambling harm.

What can be done?

Gambling behaviours are based on self-reported data so tend to be under-reported. The estimates reported in this article, although higher than existing estimates, are likely even higher in reality.

Living in the same household as a high-risk gambler negatively affects the health and well-being of other people in the household. The adverse effects of high-risk gambling therefore extend indirectly to many other Australians beyond the gambler.

The significant increase in sports gambling advertisements has coincided with more (especially younger) people engaging in this gambling type. Exposure to such advertising encourages earlier initiation of sports betting and more extreme betting behaviours.

Sports betting is done almost entirely online and younger people encounter advertising mostly online. This is one reason why younger groups are more at risk and why urgent intervention is required.

Initiatives to completely ban gambling advertisements have been proposed. Such measures have support from the public and from advocacy groups.

The findings reported here underscore the urgent need to protect younger Australians and in particular men, who are at greatest risk of gambling harm. To do so requires a reversal of the rising trend in sports betting. Banning sports betting advertising is one effective way this can be achieved.

Ferdi Botha, Senior Research Fellow, Melbourne Institute: Applied Economic & Social Research, The University of Melbourne

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

In a system of caves in the Atapuerca Mountains in Spain, nearly 50 years of systematic archaeological excavations have unearthed evidence of increasingly ancient human occupation.

The result of this systematic work has yielded human traces stretching from the Bronze Age to hundreds of thousands of years into the past – before modern humans like us (Homo sapiens) even existed.

In new research published in Nature, our team shares another find from Atapuerca: the earliest human remains ever found in Western Europe. We discovered fragments of face bones from a species of extinct human previously unknown in this region, dating from between 1.2 million and 1.4 million years ago.

Sima del Elefante

Back in 2022, during our annual field season, our team unearthed a series of bone fragments from a cave called Sima del Elefante (Pit of the Elephant). The fragments are from the left side of the mid-face of an adult human.

In 2008, a human jawbone more than 1.1 million years old had been found at the same site. The new fragments were found around two metres deeper than the jawbone, which suggests they are even older.

Since the discovery, our team has spent more than two years meticulously studying the remains. We wanted to find out which species of ancient human they belonged to, and understand the lives and environment of these long-extinct cousins.

Which species does the face belong to?

Evidence from the Gran Dolina site, not far from Sima del Elefante, has shown that a species of ancient humans known as Homo antecessor once populated the Atapuerca region. Direct dating of H. antecessor fossils has shown they lived in the region around 850,000 years ago.

The first question we asked about the new face fossil was whether it belonged to H. antecessor. This species had a relatively modern-looking face: quite vertical, rather than the strongly sloping shape often seen in older species.

The shape of our new face bones was not a match for H. antecessor, so what could it be?

We compared the remains to those of other earlier hominin groups, including ones from the Dmanisi site in the Republic of Georgia, which have been dated to around 1.8 million years ago. The Sima del Elefante face differs from the Dmanisi hominins, especially in the area around the nose.

However, it does share some similarities with Homo erectus, the first human species to spread from Africa to Asia, beginning around 2 million years ago, and now also found in Western Europe. The similarities include the lack of a projecting nose and the forward-projection of the midface.

However, key details about the Sima del Elefante face are still missing. For now, we are classifying it as Homo aff. erectus, which means it appears to be closely related to H. erectus but lacks some defining features.

Beyond the hominin fossils

At Sima del Elefante, we recovered stone tools and the remains of animals alongside the hominin fossils. The marks of use on the tools as well as the cut marks found in the animal remains suggest that this species practised butchery in the cave.

We also know, thanks to pollen and the remains of small animals, that the ancient humans lived in an environment dominated by a humid forest landscape.

Our discovery opens new possibilities for understanding the origins and population dynamics of the earliest human settlements in Western Europe.

From the fossils at Dmanisi, we know that hominins had left Africa at least 1.8 million years ago. Now, the Sima del Elefante finding tells us that within a few hundred thousand years, hominins had made it to the westernmost part of Europe. What’s more, the shape of their faces had evolved during that time.

The finding also raises questions about whether there were two populations of different hominins living in the Atapuerca region at the same time. Did H. antecessor and H. aff. erectus coexist? Or had H. aff. erectus died out by the time H. antecessor arrived?

If the latter is true, what drove one species to extinction while another flourished? In this second scenario, we need to consider the factors behind both the extinction of the species and their dispersal.

Earlier research has suggested that hominin populations were strongly affected by climate and other environmental conditions. Hominins may have spread into Europe when conditions were kind, and died out when the climate became less hospitable.

There is still much work ahead of us. Year after year, we return to Atapuerca to continue unearthing evidence that pieces together the story of our origins. Each new discovery is a step forward in understanding our past.

Laura Martín-Francés, Postdoctoral Fellow, PalaeoDiet Research Lab, Monash University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

For 20 years, Philly Roller Derby skaters, who go by names like Woolly Slammoth, TrailBlazeHer and Reba Smackentire, have jammed and blocked their way around oval skating rinks in the spirit of feminism, anti-racism, body positivity and queer liberation.

When the Philly league joined the Women’s Flat Track Derby Association in 2005, it was one of the first, following the Texas Rollergirls in Austin and leagues in Portland, Oregon; Chicago; New York; and other cities. The WFTDA, which governs flat-track roller derby, had formed just one year prior with a goal of “revolutioniz[ing] the role of women in sports.”

Primarily organized by women, the association takes an explicitly feminist position and welcomes anyone who is of a “marginalized gender.” This includes cisgender women as well as all transgender, intersex and two-spirit individuals. Intersex people have chromosomes and/or reproductive organs that do not fit into a binary male or female classification, while two-spirit refers to members of Indigenous cultures who identify as having both a masculine and feminine spirit.

I’m a kinesiology professor who studies philosophic and historical perspectives of sport – especially women’s sport. I have a particular fondness for roller derby, which started in the U.S. in 1935.

In some ways, roller derby’s reinvention as a revolutionary feminist sport in the 21st century isn’t that surprising. After all, women have been included as, at minimum, equal participants since the sport’s beginning.

Feminist roots

Seeds of roller derby’s feminist roots can be traced to its earliest version: the Transcontinental Roller Derby.

This endurance-sport fad of the Great Depression featured pairs of skaters accumulating miles as they skated laps around a track, following imaginary routes across the country. American sportswriter Frank Deford perpetuated the apocryphal story of Leo Seltzer’s invention of roller derby. Seltzer, an entertainment entrepreneur and promoter of walkathons, supposedly scribbled the basics of the sport on a tablecloth at a Ricketts restaurant in Chicago in the spring of 1935.

Whatever the truth of that story, what is true is that in August 1935, spectators gathered in the air-conditioned Chicago Coliseum to watch 25 pairs of skaters set off to travel 3,000 miles – the approximate distance of a cross-country trek from New York to San Francisco – all while never leaving the city.

Seltzer organized the event, which featured man-woman duos skating thousands of laps around a banked track while the crowd followed their fictional cross-country progress on a large electronic map. More than a month after they started, Bernie McKay and Clarice Martin completed the race in 493 hours and 12 minutes.

, organizing Transcontinental Roller Derby events in cities like Cincinnati, New York, St. Louis, Indianapolis and Miami. In May 1937, roller derby made its way to the Philadelphia Arena on Market Street.

In all of those cities, skaters completed what the Chicago Tribune called an “imaginary cross-country dash”, sometimes covering up to 100 miles per day. Early on, the pairs skated for 10 to 12 hours daily. Eventually, skaters spent only the event hours on the track, usually starting at 7 p.m. or 8 p.m. and finishing at midnight or 1 a.m. Teams alternated skaters – women skated against women and men against men – in 15-minute turns. In some locations, cots were set up on the inside of the track, giving alternating skaters a place to rest.

Seltzer saw women as an untapped sports audience who could bolster the success of his endeavor. He , selling “Ladies Day” tickets, and dispersing discounted tickets to businesses frequented by women customers.

Seltzer believed that women spectators would be drawn to women skaters. This, in part, drove him to ensure a place for women in the roller derby. Few opportunities for women existed in traditional sports at that time. When women did participate in sport, many had to deal with commentary about their appearance and a focus on their beauty rather than their athletic accomplishments.

This was the case with roller derby too. For example, one Chicago Tribune reporter wrote that a 1935 leader of the roller derby was “the blonde in the cerise tights, and a right pretty gal she is” – without ever mentioning her name.

Paying the price

Despite the participation of women since its beginning, roller derby has certainly not been a total bastion of feminist progress.

Even when challenging gender norms, women skaters were objectified. Their appearance was used to market the sport in promotional photographs. Skaters like , whose photo advertised the opening of roller derby to Indianapolis Star readers in 1937, posed in their uniforms, but without the tights and pads worn during the event.

Roller derby in the 1970s, ‘80s and '90s featured strong, tough women skaters. But as communications professor Heidi Mau and I wrote in a chapter of “Sportswomen’s Apparel in the United States,” the uniforms during that era were typically tight with low-cut zippers. Organizers of roller derby – and its competitors like RollerGames and RollerJam – embraced stereotypical ideas about femininity and beauty and sexualized women skaters.

The inclusion of women also signaled to some that roller derby was not a legitimate sport – something that haunts it to this day.

Historian Michella Marino, in her comprehensive history of the sport, says that women roller derby skaters “paid a price” for doing something subversive in challenging gender norms. That price, she writes, is that sports media relegated them to the level of “spectacle,” which led to the belief that the sport was illegitimate precisely because women competed on the same level as men.

Sports columnists in the 1930s emphasized that roller derby was a dramatic spectacle, calling it a “,” an “insane indoor sport” that was about “putting on a show.”

Women skaters today approach roller derby with a feminist, do-it-yourself attitude. The modern leagues were created by women who wanted to skate and didn’t want to wait for someone else to start a team. The Women’s Flat Track Derby Association now boasts over 400 leagues on six continents.

Today’s roller derby draws spectators of all types. Tickets typically go for about $15. Some audiences come for the Riot Grrrl, or feminist punk, personas of the skaters, and are rewarded with fast-paced, high-contact skating. Others see it as a cheap family outing, and leagues advertise themselves as family friendly. Some leagues now have co-ed youth leagues, like the Junior Brawlstars of the Philly Roller Derby.

Other leagues have branched out beyond women’s flat-track roller derby, like the Penn Jersey Roller Derby in Camden, New Jersey - also founded in 2005. Home to the Devils and Hooligans, Penn Jersey competes in flat and banked track versions of the sport and even includes a team competing in the Men’s Roller Derby Association.

Still, roller derby remains unabashedly feminist, a sport that encourages women to subvert gender norms while they skate to athletic success.

Colleen English, Associate Professor of Kinesiology, Penn State

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Throughout history, when pioneers set out across uncharted territory to settle in distant lands, they carried with them only the essentials: tools, seeds and clothing. Anything else would have to come from their new environment.

So they built shelter from local timber, rocks and sod; foraged for food and cultivated the soil beneath their feet; and fabricated tools from whatever they could scrounge up. It was difficult, but ultimately the successful ones made everything they needed to survive.

Something similar will take place when humanity leaves Earth for destinations such as the Moon and Mars – although astronauts will face even greater challenges than, for example, the Vikings did when they reached Greenland and Newfoundland. Not only will the astronauts have limited supplies and the need to live off the land; they won’t even be able to breathe the air.

Instead of axes and plows, however, today’s space pioneers will bring 3D printers. As an engineer and professor who is developing technologies to extend the human presence beyond Earth, I focus my work and research on these remarkable machines.

3D printers will make the tools, structures and habitats space pioneers need to survive in a hostile alien environment. They will enable long-term human presence on the Moon and Mars.

From hammers to habitats

On Earth, 3D printing can fabricate, layer by layer, thousands of things, from replacement hips to hammers to homes. These devices take raw materials, such as plastic, concrete or metal, and deposit it on a computerized programmed path to build a part. It’s often called “additive manufacturing,” because you keep adding material to make the part, rather than removing material, as is done in conventional machining.

Already, 3D printing in space is underway. On the International Space Station, astronauts use 3D printers to make tools and spare parts, such as ratchet wrenches, clamps and brackets. Depending on the part, printing time can take from around 30 minutes to several hours.

For now, the print materials are mostly hauled up from Earth. But NASA has also begun recycling some of those materials, such as waste plastic, to make new parts with the Refabricator, an advanced 3D printer installed in 2019.

Manufacturing in space

You may be wondering why space explorers can’t simply bring everything they need with them. After all, that’s how the International Space Station was built decades ago – by hauling tons of prefabricated components from Earth.

But that’s impractical for building habitats on other worlds. Launching materials into space is incredibly expensive. Right now, every pound launched aboard a rocket just to get to low Earth orbit costs thousands of dollars. To get materials to the Moon, NASA estimates the initial cost at around US$500,000 per pound.

Still, manufacturing things in space is a challenge. In the microgravity of space, or the reduced gravity of the Moon or Mars, materials behave differently than they do on Earth. Decrease or remove gravity, and materials cool and recrystallize differently. The Moon has one-sixth the gravity of Earth; Mars, about two-fifths. Engineers and scientists are working now to adapt 3D printers to function in these conditions.

Using otherworldly soil

On alien worlds, rather than plastic or metal, 3D printers will use the natural resources found in these environments. But finding the right raw materials is not easy. Habitats on the Moon and Mars must protect astronauts from the lack of air, extreme temperatures, micrometeorite impacts and radiation.

Regolith, the fine, dusty, sandlike particles that cover both the lunar and Martian surfaces, could be a primary ingredient to make these dwellings. Think of the regolith on both worlds as alien dirt – unlike Earth soil, it contains few nutrients, and as far as we know, no living organisms. But it might be a good raw material for 3D printing.

My colleagues began researching this possibility by first examining how regular cement behaves in space. I am now joining them to develop techniques for turning regolith into a printable material and to eventually test these on the Moon.

But obtaining otherworldly regolith is a problem. The regolith samples returned from the Moon during the Apollo missions in the 1960s and 70s are precious, difficult if not impossible to access for research purposes. So scientists are using regolith simulants to test ideas. Actual regolith may react quite differently than our simulants. We just don’t know.

What’s more, the regolith on the Moon is very different from what’s found on Mars. Martian regolith contains iron oxide –that’s what gives it a reddish color – but Moon regolith is mostly silicates; it’s much finer and more angular. Researchers will need to learn how to use both types in a 3D printer.

Applications on Earth

NASA’s Moon-to-Mars Planetary Autonomous Construction Technology program, also known as MMPACT, is advancing the technology needed to print these habitats on alien worlds.

Among the approaches scientists are now exploring: a regolith-based concrete made in part from surface ice; melting the regolith at high temperatures, and then using molds to form it while it’s a liquid; and sintering, which means heating the regolith with concentrated sunlight, lasers or microwaves to fuse particles together without the need for binders.

Along those lines, my colleagues and I developed a Martian concrete we call MarsCrete, a material we used to 3D-print a small test structure for NASA in 2017.

Then, in May 2019, using another type of special concrete, we 3D-printed a one-third scale prototype Mars habitat that could support everything astronauts would need for long-term survival, including living, sleeping, research and food-production modules.

That prototype showcased the potential, and the challenges, of building housing on the red planet. But many of these technologies will benefit people on Earth too.

In the same way astronauts will make sustainable products from natural resources, homebuilders could make concretes from binders and aggregates found locally, and maybe even from recycled construction debris. Engineers are already adapting the techniques that could print Martian habitats to address housing shortages here at home. Indeed, 3D-printed homes are already on the market.

Meanwhile, the move continues toward establishing a human presence outside the Earth. Artemis III, now scheduled for liftoff in 2027, will be the first human Moon landing since 1972. A NASA trip to Mars could happen as early as 2035.

But wherever people go, and whenever they get there, I’m certain that 3D printers will be one of the primary tools to let human beings live off alien land.

Sven Bilén, Professor of Engineering Design, Electrical Engineering and Aerospace Engineering, Penn State

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Motorsport fans are getting their first taste of racing this year, with the opening grand prix of the 2025 Formula One (F1) season starting in Melbourne today.

But it’s not just the cars people should be watching. In a sport where milliseconds determine champions and conditions push the human body to its limits, drivers’ racing suits have evolved from a simple fire protection tool to a sophisticated performance tool.

In fact, today’s F1 suits represent something of a technological revolution that could determine who stands on the podium.

Driving at 300km/h in 50°C for two hours

F1 drivers compete at nearly 300 kilometres per hour while enduring cockpit temperatures of up to 50°C.

In case of an accident, they are required to wear multilayer fireproof clothing, including long underwear, a balaclava, gloves, and a helmet. But this can severely restrict the body’s natural cooling mechanisms.

Research has found that during races in extreme heat, skin temperature quickly rises from normal levels (32–33°C) to over 38°C, with hands and forehead sometimes exceeding 39°C.

This isn’t just uncomfortable for drivers. It also increases the risk of dehydration, muscle cramps, cognitive impairment, heat exhaustion and heat stroke.

Developers of driving suits therefore have a challenging job. They must design garments that provide maximum fire protection while also allowing drivers to maintain peak cognitive and physical performance for roughly two hours in extreme heat.

A driver-centred approach to design

Fire protection remains the primary function of racing suits. Because of this, flame-resistant synthetic materials such as nomex, oxidized polyacrylonitrile and polybenzimidazole are used for the suit. Wool is also prevalent in the inner layers, because of its flame-resistant characteristics.

But racing suits are also now designed to improve driver comfort and movement.

For example, the racing suits of motorsport company Alpinestars, which supplies the McLaren F1 team, feature pre-curved sleeves and legs that match the natural driving position. This reduces the energy drivers expend fighting against their clothing.

Alpinestars’ suits also have minimal seams around the elbow joints. This increases flexibility and eliminates pressure points during the continuous small steering adjustments drivers make throughout a race. The suits also have elasticated inserts and multiple panels around the elbow which reduces material bunching at this crucial joint.

Sportswear company PUMA, which supplies the Ferrari and Aston Martin F1 teams with driving suits, adopt similar features in their driving suits.

But this attention to joint mobility extends beyond elbows.

F1 suits are flexible and loose fitting around the arms. They also incorporate elasticated panels in the lower back region and seamless shoulder epaulettes. This means the suits move naturally with the driver and minimise resistance.

Adjustable features such as elasticated waists and belts allow drivers to personalise their suits. They can also request specific modifications, such as where ventilation openings are placed, based on their individual comfort needs.

The result is a racing suit that functions as a second skin, tailored precisely to each driver’s body and movements.

Cooling the elbows

Racing suit manufacturers have also developed advanced approaches to keep drivers cool as well as safe.

Research has demonstrated that advanced fabrics with improved air permeability (how air passes through the fabric) and breathability (how moisture and heat passes through the fabric), as well as reduced thickness, could reduce core temperature rise by 40% compared to thicker and tighter types of materials.

Fabric manufacturers have engineered breathable fabrics for the suit and inner layers. Product developers also strategically place ventilation zones and internal cooling systems with technology that draws moisture away from the skin in the suits to help drivers manage their core temperature

These thermal management features are carefully tailored to different body regions.

For example, knowing that elbows experience a 6–7°C temperature increase during racing, suit designers make the suit thinner in this region to improve air flow and use materials capable of adjusting their thermal properties to temperature.

The impact of these design innovations goes beyond basic comfort. They translate directly to competitive advantage. When body heat is better managed, drivers can think more clearly and have better reaction times.

The road ahead

The development of racing suits continues to accelerate, with several emerging technologies promising even better performance and safety.

Reflective elements are showing particular promise for thermal protection by reducing the rate of skin temperature increase compared to conventional racing suits.

Wearable technology built into the fabrics of suits can also monitor drivers’ physiological changes, and help predict performance changes and enhance safety during racing.

The emerging popularity of electric racing series such as Formula E is also changing the environmental challenges drivers face.

Electric cars generate far less heat and noise than traditional race cars. This shift may prompt a reevaluation of suit requirements. It may potentially allow for designs that prioritise driver comfort and performance over heat management, while maintaining their fire safety properties.

The next time you watch a F1 race, look beyond the fancy aerodynamics and engine performance. Observe who emerges from their cockpit looking relatively fresh after two long hours of driving. The competitive advantage might not be in the car alone. It might be woven into the fabric protecting the driver inside the car.

Carolina Quintero Rodriguez, Senior Lecturer and Program Manager, Bachelor of Fashion (Enterprise) program, RMIT University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

St. Patrick’s Day usually conjures images of partying, Catholicism, Irish nationalism and, perhaps most famously, the color green: green clothes, green shamrocks, green beer and green rivers.

So my students are often surprised when I tell them that St. Patrick’s Day was once a solemn feast day when you’d be far more likely to see the color blue. In fact, there’s even a color known as St. Patrick’s blue.

‘True blue’

Historians don’t know much about St. Patrick. But they believe he was born in the fifth century as Maewyn Succat.

He wasn’t Irish; rather he was born in Wales, the son of a Roman-British official. He was, however, captured by Irish pirates and enslaved in Ireland. After six years he went back to Britain but returned to Ireland as one of the missionaries to convert Irish pagans to Christianity. At some point he adopted the Latin name Patricius. In the 10th century, the first evidence of St. Patrick being a beloved figure in Ireland emerged.

In the early 17th century, Luke Wadding, an Irish priest, persuaded the Catholic Church to make March 17 a feast day for St. Patrick.

Back then, feast days were far from raucous affairs: Catholics typically went to Mass and then had a quiet dinner at home to celebrate. Other denominations, including Anglicans and Lutherans, recognized the day as well. But any commemorations would include the color blue. The Dublin Evening Post reported that in a 1785 St. Patrick’s Day ceremony in Dublin, a group of men identifying themselves as patriots “marched in a grand procession round the garden, dressed in true blue, and carrying along with them a number of curious pageants.”

Constance Markievicz, who fought in the 1916 Easter Rebellion for independence and was the first minister of labour in the Irish Free State, maintained that blue was “the old colour of Ireland.” To connect the past to the nationalist movement, she used blue as the background for the Irish Citizen Army’s flag.

In 1934, Irish politician W.T. Cosgrave asserted that blue is “in perfect, traditional, national accord with our history and in close association with the most revered and venerated memory of our patron Saint.”

Out with the old, in with the new

Since the 12th century, Ireland had been a colony of Great Britain. Like the American Colonists who rebelled against the British crown, a group of rebels called the United Irish launched an insurrection in 1798 in a quest for independence.

Led mostly by middle-class Protestants and in coordination with some Catholics, the United Irish adopted the “wearing of the green” to represent Irish nationalism and their fight against British imperialism.

The rebellion failed, and the British government made Ireland part of the United Kingdom in 1801 to prevent future revolutions. The government also bestowed greater rights to Protestants over Catholics.

Ireland became more sectarian over the course of the 19th century, and nationalism became more associated with Catholicism. In some ways, the two became interchangeable.

With nationalism ascendant and Catholics outnumbering Protestants, green was widely embraced, particularly since it had been worn by the United Irish.

Green crosses the pond

Before the 1840s, most Irish immigrants to America had been Protestants, many of whom had been the descendants of Scottish settlers in Ulster and would later become known as the Scots Irish. Like those that would succeed them, they celebrated St. Patrick’s Day to commemorate their connection to Ireland.

In the earliest recorded American celebration of the day, banquets toasting Ireland and St. Patrick took place in Boston in 1737. By the 1760s, annual parades were being held in New York and on the island of Montserrat to celebrate Irish culture and identity.

Irish immigration to the new world increased dramatically after the Great Hunger of the 1840s, when the potato crops failed and over 1 million indigent Catholics arrived in the U.S. Facing discrimination from American Protestants who claimed they were more loyal to the pope than to the U.S., they viewed St. Patrick’s Day as a link to the history and culture of Ireland. Celebrations were a badge of pride and dignity, and they called for Irish independence to demonstrate they, too, believed in republican principles.

Irish nationalist groups active in the U.S. – the Fenians, Clan na Gael and, later, Irish Northern Aid – participated in these American St. Patrick’s Day parades, proudly wearing green to demonstrate their nationalism and the connection to past nationalist groups such as the United Irish.

In Ireland, however, St. Patrick’s Day remained a solemn day of observance with little revelry. The Irish government didn’t recognize St. Patrick’s Day as a public holiday until 1903, and the first parade in Dublin wasn’t held until 1931. Even pubs remained closed on March 17 until 1961.

Since 1922, when 26 of the 32 counties of Ireland became semi-independent, the tricolor flag of Ireland has been the official flag. Green represents the Catholics, orange represents the Protestants, and the white in the middle symbolizes peace. Yet green remains the color associated with St. Patrick’s Day and Ireland throughout the world, largely due to the Catholic diaspora and its association with nationalism.

However, blue still plays a symbolic role in Ireland: Since 1945, the flag representing the president of Ireland has a gold harp with a dark blue background – the color known as St. Patrick’s blue. 

Bryan McGovern, Professor of History, Kennesaw State University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Five years ago, at the start of 2020, I was looking forward to the publication of my book, Terraformed: Young Black Lives in the Inner City and eagerly anticipating a long-awaited holiday to Jamaica.

But by February, as reports of a virus called COVID-19 began to mount up, the holiday was cancelled. At that stage, like many of us, I had read reports of this virus from China that was spreading through the rest of the world – but I did not fully take in what the impact of this would be. I watched news stories of Italians singing on balconies and carried on with my daily routine.

And then in March 2020, lockdown. Time changed shape as we searched for ways to fill our days without the usual markers of work, family and leisure. Allowed outside for a mere one hour per day, for many of us, Black musical forms offered a way to pass the time. In a period of social isolation, it also connected us with each other.

We shared our lives online in different time zones, experiencing an inter-generational, planetary enjoyment of musical forms and formats. Geographical and sonic borders became blurred, porous and fuzzy. Of the many sonic moments during early pandemic time (March 2020-December 2021), three stand out for me.

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1. The #DontRushChallenge

In April 2020, the #DontRushChallenge was started by a group of Black girls who were in lockdown at Hull University.

Featuring a soundtrack by Nottingham-based rap duo Young T & Bugsey (Ra’chard Tucker and Doyin Julius), it became a viral sensation on TikTok. Over the course of two to three weeks tens of thousands of videos were made and shared on social media.

The #DontRushChallenge involved people transforming themselves from casual clothes into a more glamorous outfit for a night out – a night out that was never going to happen.

From NHS doctors to, Turkish cabin crew, to the US military the #DontRushChallenge provided a source of lightheartedness and joy.

2. Verzuz

As a counter to the lack of live music events, veteran US music producers Swizz Beatz and Timbaland launched the Verzuz “battle sessions”. Two comparable music artists from Black music traditions (mainly hip hop and RnB) played songs from their music catalogue in an alternating fashion.

Each contest was live streamed on different platforms, including Instagram, Apple TV and Triller. As the audience we watched, commented and then offered our opinion on who had won the “battle”. Participants included Erykah Badu, Brandy, Patti LaBelle, Ludacris, Nelly and Gucci Mane.

In May 2020 Jamaican reggae artists Beenie Man and Bounty Killer presented a dancehall clash version. I tuned in along with half a million fans from around the world. I was in online company with musicians, footballers and actors.

In a socially distanced performance, without a live audience and through different time zones, we shared 90 minutes of community, as we moved through various musical genres (reggae, dancehall, soul, RnB and EDM) finishing up with many of their classic hits.

3. Lovers rock on the Southbank

When restrictions eased in May 2021, we were allowed back outside in groups again but music venues were not fully open. So in July 2021, I was excited to attend a free lovers rock concert on the Southbank in London.

Dennis Bovell dee-jayed, while Carroll Thomson, Janet Kay and Victor Romero Evans sang lovers rock classics. It was a strange experience with no singing in the audience, no dancing and having to remain seated and order drinks from your table. The “live” experience had changed dramatically, as events had to be booked in advance, spontaneity a thing of the past.

In July 2022, I was finally able to travel to Jamaica. In the years that had elapsed since my previous visit, there had been many changes, including the rising popularity of afrobeats. I stepped into a new sonic landscape with Pheelz (Finesse) and the Jamaican version of the track from dancehall artist Ding Dong.

By sharing music online and in a socially distanced landscape, it was possible to reconnect with people outside of our immediate setting.

Although fire emojis in the comments are not an adequate replacement for a live musical experience, in uncertain, unprecedented pandemic time, “musicking” became more important than ever. The term, coined by musicologist Christopher Small, covers the acts of playing, listening, singing and dancing to music. I have extended it to include the online challenges that provided a connection to our social lives.

My eclectic selection of sonic events, discussed in more detail in my latest book, Like Lockdown Never Happened: Music and Culture during Covid, is a gesture towards how we used contemporary Black musical expression to break COVID’s pervasive muffling of everyday life.

Joy White, Senior Lecturer in Applied Social Sciences, University of Bedfordshire

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Signing off his 26-year parliamentary career three years ago, the retiring Labor MP Joel Fitzgibbon lamented a power imbalance that allowed the majority party routinely to railroad the national legislature.

In a refreshingly frank valedictory speech, the former minister claimed the House of Representatives had become nothing more than a rubber stamp for executive government.

And he criticised the practice of compelling MPs to vote in blocs, irrespective of their own judgement:

not only do governments typically hold the numbers; they are using them more ruthlessly within their party structures […] party discipline is strangling our democracy in an era when the world is changing so dramatically.

Voters apparently share his unease. The combined primary vote share of the Labor-Coalition duopoly has been declining since the 1980s from around 90%, to around 68%. The remainder is going to minor parties and independents.

Now, successive opinion polls suggest both major parties are likely to fall short of the 76 seats required for a simple majority. And Fitzgibbon has fretted in The Australian that the primary threat to national politics and governance may come from voters themselves. That is, if they should have the temerity to install crossbench MPs beyond the discipline of the two major parties.

Labor and Coalition supporters alike are now shaking in their boots, as are the parties of government. Of course, the minor parties have the champagne on ice, relishing the chance to hold the country to ransom. The Greens are salivating.

Holding the country to ransom? Salivating? It’s as if the voters have no deliberative intent.

What’s changed for Fitzgibbon? Perhaps this is nothing more than the familiar slouch into conservative chauvinism to which so many ex-parliamentary Labor men succumb.

The rightward drift of progressively-striped former legislators is a well-worn path, with names like Graham Richardson, Stephen Loosely, Gary Johns and John Black springing to mind.

Teal threat

Less openly canvassed are the unconscious gender biases, and the major party self-interests that are driving them.

One answer to “what’s changed?” is the electoral embrace of the Teals – seven conspicuously competent professional women defiantly occupying once blue-ribbon Liberal seats. These new MPs (six of whom came in at the last election) were successful because voters wanted to break free of the suited duopoly and the limited solutions it proffers.

While hardly radical, they have been outspoken on climate change policy, corruption in public administration, and the absence of serious structural taxation reform. To old-guard politicos for whom traditional binaries dominate, their needling from the crossbenches may seem almost insolent.

Their presence, which involved circumnavigation of the established party “meritocracies”, is viewed by many in the major parties as an existential threat to the two-party system. Yet it is the widely perceived mediocrity of the two-party dominance that is their very attraction to voters.

Denying people power

Fitzgibbon is hardly the first to hyperventilate about the perils of a hung parliament where crossbench MPs may have a role in assuring confidence and supply numbers to one side or the other. But his solution to this alleged problem is novel to the point of bizarre.

Despite calling Australia’s system “hyper-partisan”, he proposes that Anthony Albanese and Peter Dutton might collude ahead of the election in order to agree

that whoever has the most seats post-election will be guaranteed supply and confidence for 18 months hence.

Leaving aside that the independent MPs are in fact, independent, Fitzgibbon’s fix flies in the face of the very chamber whose dwindling primacy he formerly eulogised. That is, he proposes an arrangement between two opposing blocs that would pre-emptively close out non-major party MPs, despite their authority deriving from the people.

This is not to say the question of any crossbench intentions in a hung parliament situation are beyond the limits of public conjecture. But a preventative neutering of their participation in the construction of a parliamentary majority (should it come to that) is a drastic and potentially counter-representative act.

Hung parliaments can work

Unlike many democracies, Australia has limited experience of minority governments at the national level.

The only recent example was the aforementioned Gillard-Rudd term (2010–2013). Notwithstanding leadership turbulence, a record number of bills were passed, despite the sense of numerical precarity and the need for clause-by-clause negotiation with cross bench MPs.

Legislating 561 bills – much higher than the previous Labor term – it also encountered higher resistance from the Coalition opposition, with 22% of bills opposed outright. Important legislative reforms included

• the carbon price
• Gonski school education reforms
• world-leading plain-packaging laws for cigarettes
• the creation of the Parliamentary Budget Office to provide independent costings for all MPs
• NDIS legislation and funding arrangements.

And many more.

That parliament’s reputation proved the old adage that history is written by the winners. By repealing the carbon price and hobbling other priorities, the subsequent Abbott government and its media enablers were able to depict the 44th parliament as extreme and dysfunctional.

It was neither.

Two-party cartel

In the current parliament, Teals like Allegra Spender have shown more interest in bold tax reform, while others like Zali Steggall have pushed harder on climate change and truth in political advertising.

It cannot be known which of the current crop of crossbench MPs will be re-elected or whether there will be more. But the trend in successive elections suggests Australians are tiring of the old parties and are looking for other options.

Suggesting clever tricks to freeze out these voters smacks of desperation and worse, cartelism. It is likely to hasten the demise of blocs which only recently combined to write new election campaign finance laws that give them the edge.

Voters are awake to this.

Mark Kenny, Professor, Australian Studies Institute, Australian National University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

The publication by the Newcastle Herald of a political advertisement by Clive Palmer’s Trumpet of Patriots party stating “there are only two genders – male and female” has provoked a backlash that has seen the advertisement removed from the paper’s online edition.

The publisher, Australian Community Media, has apologised for printing it in the first place. The ad also ran on the front page of The Age on March 12.

This raises a question about freedom of speech, particularly political speech.

There are three reasons why this advertisement does not deserve the protection of the free-speech principle.

The first is that it is factually wrong. The second is that it attacks people for an attribute of birth, and the third is that it is unjustifiably harmful, being calculated to arouse prejudice for political gain.

It is factually wrong because there are people in the community who are trans or gender-diverse. The Royal Children’s Hospital in Melbourne has a Gender Service clinic to assist children and adolescents in this situation. It states on its website that being trans or gender-diverse is seen as part of the natural spectrum of human diversity.

The clinic’s website also draws attention to the risk of harm to these often vulnerable young people. It states that they experience considerably higher rates of depression, anxiety, self-harm and attempted suicide compared with their cisgender peers because of their experiences of stigma, discrimination, social exclusion, bullying and harassment.

More generally, the British philosopher A. C. Grayling has developed a scheme for assessing harm arising from prejudice against people on the grounds of certain attributes.

In his scheme, he identifies what he calls attributes of birth: race, nationality, skin colour, gender, sexual orientation and disability among them. This provides valuable guidance about the attributes that deserve the most robust protection.

It is not necessary for the editor of a newspaper to be familiar with any of this in order to see that an advertisement of the kind published in the Newcastle Herald was totally indefensible. All that had to be done was to substitute race or skin colour for gender and ask: would we publish such an advertisement?

On top of that, since 1984 Australia has had a Sex Discrimination Act, the latest iteration of which makes it an offence to discriminate against a person on the grounds of gender identity or intersex status, making it clear that these are protected attributes under the law.

Australian Community Media said it has checks in place for political advertising, “but on this occasion the process failed and the advertisement was not reviewed before publication”.

The obvious question is, why not? Even at face value the advertisement is factually wrong as a matter of general knowledge, which would be as good a starting point as any for making a decision about whether to publish it.

The ad goes on to say: “We must stop confusing children in schools. Give them a safe and normal environment to grow and develop in and let them decide who they are when they become adults.”

This is the purest humbug. It pretends to stand for the protection of all children from “confusion”, while exposing some children to the risk of serious harm.

Nor can the ad be defended as a statement of opinion. It is unambiguously purporting to be a statement of fact.

At The Age, journalists reportedly wrote a formal letter of complaint to management after discovering the same ad was booked for the front page of that paper on Wednesday March 12.

However, The Age and News Corp newspapers have published other Palmer ads that have aroused indignation. On March 7, the front page of the Age carried an ad that read: “We don’t need to be welcomed to our own country.” On March 11 the front page ad said: “Too much immigration destroys infrastructure.”

Race is clearly an undertone in both of these, but they are directed at practices and policies, not at people’s personal attributes. In this way, they are categorically different from the ad about gender.

In no civilised country is the right of free speech absolute, although political speech enjoys a high degree of protection.

The point at which, by convention as well as law, democracies draw the line at free speech is the point where the speech does harm to others.

These limitations are derived from the harm principle developed by that champion of free speech, John Stuart Mill, in On Liberty. It remains a relevant standard even in the coarsened political atmosphere in which we live.

The fact that certain views may arouse indignation or even anger in others is not on its own a ground for suppressing them. Where unjustifiable harm is done, however, the law and ethics step in.

Correction: The article originally stated that the ad about there being “only two genders” was scheduled to run in The Age but cancelled. In fact it ran on the front page on March 12.

Denis Muller, Senior Research Fellow, Centre for Advancing Journalism, The University of Melbourne

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Approximately one quarter of hospital beds in acute wards – wards for patients who need close care for a sudden or severe medical conditions – are occupied by someone living with dementia in the UK.

The sights, sounds and smells of a hospital environment, and the lack of familiar carers, can be a significant challenge for people with dementia. Many healthcare staff feel that they do not have sufficient training to care well for them.

This can lead to some staff using less effective communication methods to reduce distress and anxiety in dementia patients. Some carers, for example, might try to “correct” patients with dementia who seem confused about their surroundings or may use therapeutic lying – when lies are told to alleviate the distress of a patient with dementia – to avoid upsetting patients further. Our research shows that there are two approaches that are more effective.

Managing competing realities

Dementia affects people’s abilities to use language, to understand other people’s use of language and to remember things. One common challenge is the presence of competing realities, where the person with dementia is oriented to a different time or place. These competing realities are often grounded in the person’s previous experience of a career or family role. For example, they may believe a parent is coming to take them home, or that they need to leave urgently to pick up their own child from school.

Managing these competing realities can be difficult for carers in any setting. It is particularly difficult in an acute ward, where staff may know little about the background of a patient admitted for treatment for an urgent medical need such as a fracture or infection. Competing realities can be a major source of distress for a person with dementia, who might not recognise where they are or that they have any medical need, and can’t understand why they are not simply able to leave when they ask.

Over recent years, my colleagues and I have been using video recordings of everyday ward interactions to identify the communication challenges that occur when caring for people with dementia.

We have developed training in communication skills focused on specific challenges. For example, dealing with refusals of medically necessary care, responding to talk that is hard to understand and closing interactions effectively. Most recently, we have focused on dealing with competing realities and the distress that these can cause.

Responding effectively

We found there are four ways in which staff tend to respond, but that only two of these are effective in addressing distress.

The first way is to confront or challenge the patient’s reality. For example, telling a person who believes they are at home that they are actually in hospital. It is understandable why staff might do this, but we found that it does not usually lead to agreement, and instead can make distress worse.

The second way is to go along with the patient’s reality. For example, by agreeing that a deceased family member such as a parent or spouse will be coming to visit or collect the patient later. While this might work as a short-term strategy, it is time-limited because the promised event will never happen. This can ultimately make distress worse. Wider debates on “therapeutic lying” to people with dementia suggest it should only be done if carefully thought out and planned, and only then as a last resort.

The third way is to find some aspect of the patient’s reality that is shareable, without fully entering into it. For example, if a patient says their (deceased) father is coming to collect them, a member of healthcare staff might ask “Do you miss your dad?” This avoids lying, but responds to the emotional tone of the patient and enables a sharing of feelings.

For a person worried they have left a child or a pet alone at home, a healthcare professional might say “Your neighbour is looking after everything at home”. This provides general reassurance without confirming or challenging the specifics. For a patient who repeatedly asks to go home because they do not recognise their medical need, asking “What would you be doing if you were at home?” can identify a need or desire – such as having a cup of tea, a walk, or watching the TV – which could be met in the hospital environment.

Alternatively, staff used diversions. The topic of conversation can be shifted away from the issue that was causing distress, towards something else they could engage the person with.

This sometimes drew on the immediate environment – the view out of the window, for example. Sometimes they proposed an alternative activity, such as walking to a day room, or getting a drink. When no other possibilities were available, they sometimes asked the person with dementia a question that could lead into a different conversation.

These approaches are relevant for carers in any setting. Even in the context of a busy, pressured environment where carers may know very little about a person, the small differences in the way they communicate can have a profound effect on the care and wellbeing of those living with dementia.

Alison Pilnick, Professor of Language, Health and Society, Manchester Metropolitan University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Earlier this week, Saturn gained a whopping 128 new official moons, as the International Astronomical Union recognised discoveries from a team of astronomers led by Edward Ashton at the Academia Sinica in Taiwan. The sixth planet from the Sun now has a grand total of 274 moons, the most of any planet in the Solar System.

The discovery has raised a lot of questions. How do you spot moons, and why hadn’t anybody seen these ones already? Doesn’t Jupiter have the most moons? What are they going to call all these moons? Are there more out there? And what exactly makes something a moon, anyway?

Counting moons

These new discoveries cement Saturn’s place as the winner of the Solar System’s moon competition, with more confirmed moons than all of the other planets combined. But it hasn’t always been this way.

Jupiter’s four largest moons – Io, Europa, Ganymede and Callisto – were the first ever discovered orbiting another planet. They were spotted by Galileo Galilei more than 400 years ago, in 1610. Saturn’s first known moon, Titan, was discovered by Dutch astronomer Christiaan Huygens 45 years later.

The new batch of 128 moons was discovered by stacking images from the Canada France Hawaii telescope. Some of Saturn’s other moons were discovered by space voyages, and some during what are called “ring-plane crossings”.

When the Voyager 1 spacecraft passed by Saturn, it took images that were used to discover the moon Atlas. The Cassini Mission later discovered seven new Saturnian moons.

A ring-crossing is where Saturn’s rings seem to disappear from our point of view here on Earth. This is when Saturn is at just the right angle so we’re looking at the rings exactly side-on (that is, when we can only see the edge of the rings).

Titan was discovered during a ring-plane crossing, and so were 12 other moons. Saturn’s rings will be edge-on twice in 2025, in March and November.

The moon race

From 2019 to 2023, Jupiter and Saturn were fighting for first place in the moon race.

In 2019, Saturn surpassed Jupiter with the discovery of 20 new moons. This took the count to 82 for Saturn and 79 for Jupiter.

Just a few years later, in February 2023, Jupiter took the lead with 12 new moons, beating Saturn’s 83 moons at the time. Only a short time later, still in 2023, the same astronomers who discovered the recent 128 moons discovered 62 moons orbiting Saturn. This placed the ringed planet firmly in the lead.

Elsewhere in the Solar System, Earth has one moon, Mars has two, Jupiter has 95, Uranus has 28 and Neptune has 16, for a total of 142 moons. We only need to discover ten more moons around Saturn to give it double the number of all the other planets combined.

Regular or irregular?

The newly discovered moons are all small. Each one is only a few kilometres across. If something that small can be a moon, what really counts as a moon?

NASA tells us “naturally formed bodies that orbit planets are called moons”, but even asteroids can have moons. We crashed a spacecraft into an asteroid’s moon in 2022. Earth has had a few mini-moons, some only a couple of metres in size. The line of what is and isn’t a moon is a bit hazy.

Moons orbiting planets in the Solar System can be either “regular” or “irregular”. The new moons are all irregular.

Regular moons are formed around a planet at the same time as the planet itself forms. Irregular moons are thought to be small planets (planetesimals) that are captured by a planet as it finishes forming. They are then broken into pieces by collisions.

Regular moons tend to orbit their planets in nice, circular orbits around the equator. Irregular moons typically orbit in big ovals further away from planets, and at a range of angles. Saturn has 24 regular moons and 250 irregular moons.

Studying these moons can tell us about how moons form, and reveal clues about how the Solar System formed and evolved.

Saturn’s rings are made of small chunks of ice and rock. Astronomers think they formed out of pieces of comets, asteroids and moons that were torn apart by Saturn’s gravity.

So for Saturn in particular, irregular moons can tell us more about the formation of its beautiful rings.

What’s in a name?

Names of astronomical objects are governed by the International Astronomical Union (IAU). Originally, all moons in the Solar System were given names from Greco-Roman mythology.

But the large number of moons, particularly of Saturn and Jupiter, means the IAU has expanded to giants and gods from other mythology. And it’s all about the details. If binary moons are discovered, they are required to be given names of twins or siblings.

Saturn’s first seven moons were given numbers instead of names. In 1847, John Herschel named them after the Greek Titans. After they ran out of titans and Greek mythological giants, they expanded the naming system to include Inuit and Gallic gods and Norse giants.

Discoverers get to suggest names for moons, and the names they suggest are given priority by the IAU. In the past, there have been competitions to name new moons of Jupiter and Saturn.

With 128 new moons for Saturn, it might take a while to come up with names that follow the IAU rules. Maybe we’ll even see the addition of different mythologies. We’ll have to wait and see. Until then, each moon has a name made of a string of numbers and letters, such as “S/2020 S 27”.

Will we find more moons?

Without a solid definition of what a moon is, it’s hard to say when (or if) we will ever finish finding them. Everyone agrees we shouldn’t call every single chunk of rock in Saturn’s rings a moon, but exactly where to draw the line isn’t clear.

That said, there is probably a limit to the number of moon-like objects astronomers are likely to want to add to the list. Edward Ashton, who led the discovery of the new moons, doesn’t think we’ll be finding too many new moons until our technology improves.

Laura Nicole Driessen, Postdoctoral Researcher in Radio Astronomy, University of Sydney

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Bullying is one of the top concerns Australian parents have about their children’s health.

Unfortunately about one in four Australian students between Year 4 and Year 9 report being bullied at least every few weeks.

The federal government has recently set up a six month “rapid review” to look at what schools are doing and how best to address bullying.

But what can you do if your child is being bullied at school?

What is bullying?

Recognising a child is being bullied and knowing what to do about it can be difficult for parents.

It’s important to understand what is and isn’t bullying. Bullying is about deliberately using power and status to repeatedly cause distress to, or control another person.

It is not usually a “one off” (although cyberbullying can involve a single post/image, which may be viewed many times or reposted over a long period of time).

It can involve repeated verbal, physical and/or social behaviours (on and offline) intended to cause physical, social and/or psychological harm.

Younger children tend to use more physical forms of bullying. Older children may use more subtle forms of covert and manipulative bullying, which harms social relationships. This can include excluding someone from a group and spreading rumours.

What are the signs a child is being bullied?

Look out for any unexplained changes in your child.

This may include physical injuries, a change in their participation in school or other activities or shifts in friendships. Your child may also be more anxious and nervous, withdrawn or angry.

You know your child best, but directly asking how their friendships are going, may be met with resistance. So if you want to talk about it, a more casual approach may be a better first step. This could include in the car after school/sport or walking together somewhere.

What if your child says they are being bullied?

Children may not want to tell anyone they are being bullied out of fear of things getting worse.

But if and when they do tell, it is often to a parent before friends or the teacher/school.

For parents, hearing your child is being bullied is confronting.
But try to stay calm and resist any urges to trivialise, ridicule, blame, get angry or downplay what is being reported. For example, don’t dismiss it as other kids “just being bitchy/nasty”.

Remember no one chooses to be victimised and it takes courage for a child to report and share what has happened. Listen for the emotion in their voice to know how to connect with them. Are they scared, nervous and/or angry?

Let your child know it’s not OK for this to happen, and that it is not their fault. This validates your child’s feelings. Let them know you support them and are going to help.

What can you do next?

Talk with your child about what to do next.

They may ask you not to go to the school because they are worried it will make things worse for them. Let them know you are taking responsibility for dealing with this now. This means letting the school know, so you can work together to address it.

Gather evidence demonstrating this may not be an isolated incident: what has happened, when, where and over how long. Keep a record of what your child has shared with you, especially images or posts if the bullying is happening online.

How to work with the school

Research shows it is crucial for parents and schools to work together to address all forms of bullying. This means both parties are taking responsibility and sharing all relevant information to stop the bullying and support the victimised child.

Before you formally notify the school, read the school’s anti-bullying policy, so you know what to expect the school to do.

When you come to report your concerns, clearly and calmly tell your child’s story of being bullied. Provide evidence and a timeline to the teacher in writing.

Ask when you can expect a response about what will be done. Check back in and ask for a progress report.

Schools should outline the steps they will take once it has been reported. This includes how long the investigation will take, when they will get back to you, and what they are putting in place to protect your child.

Keep trying

If you don’t find initial responses timely or transparent, you may choose to escalate the matter to the next level.

This could mean speaking to the school principal or a more senior teacher, or eventually contacting your state’s department of education or school’s government body (for non-government schools).

If you need more information, you and your child can get support from Kids Helpline and Youth Law Australia. The eSafety Commissioner also has specific advice about cyberbullying.

You can also find more tips on the federal government’s Bullying No Way Website and its Student Wellbeing Hub.

Deborah Green, Senior Lecturer, UniSA Education Futures, University of South Australia and Barbara Spears, Adjunct Professor of Education and Social Development, University of South Australia

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

For many people, the most visible impact of Cyclone Alfred was the damage big waves and storm surge did to their local beaches.

Beaches in southeast Queensland and northeast New South Wales are now scarred by dramatic sand cliffs, including the tourist drawcard of Surfers Paradise.

Sand islands off Brisbane – Bribie, Moreton and North Stradbroke – protected the city from the worst of the storm surge. But they took a hammering doing so, reducing their ability to protect the coastline.

The good news is, the sand isn’t gone forever. Most of it is now sitting on sandbars offshore. Over time, many beaches will naturally replenish. But sand dunes will take longer. And there are areas where the damage will linger.

Why did it do so much damage?

Cyclone Alfred travelled up and down the coast for a fortnight before crossing the mainland as a tropical low. On February 27, it reached Category 4 offshore from Mackay. From here on, the cyclone’s intense winds whipped up very large swells.

By the time the cyclone started heading towards the coast, many beaches had already been hit by erosion-causing waves. This meant they were more vulnerable to storm surge and further erosion.

As Alfred moved west to make landfall, it coincided with one of the the year’s highest tides. As a result, many beaches have been denuded of sand and coastal infrastructure weakened in some places.

Which beaches were hit hardest?

Areas south of the cyclone’s track have been hit hardest, from the Gold Coast to the Northern Rivers.

Some beaches and dunes have significantly eroded. Peregian Beach south of Noosa has lost up to 30 metres of width.

Erosion cliffs, or “scarps”, up to 3 metres high have appeared on the Gold Coast. It exposed sections of the last line of coastal defence – a buried seawall known as the A-line, constructed following large storms in the 1970s.

Up and down the Gold Coast, most dunes directly behind beaches (foredunes) have been affected by storm surge of up to 0.5 metres above the high tide mark and eroded. Even established dunes further inland have been eroded.

Where did the sand go?

In just a week, millions of tonnes of sand on our beaches seemingly disappeared. Where did it go?

Beaches change constantly and are very resilient. As these landforms constantly interact with waves and currents, they adapt by changing their shape.

When there’s a lot of energy in waves and currents, beaches become flatter and narrower. Sand is pulled off the beaches and dunes and washed off offshore, where it forms sandbars. These sandbars actually protect the remaining beach, as they make waves break further offshore.

Dunes form when sand is blown off the beach on very windy days and lands further inland. Over time, plants settle the dune. Their roots act to stabilise the sand.

Healthy dunes covered in vegetation are normally harder to erode. But as beaches are washed away during large storms and the water level rises, larger waves can directly attack dunes.

The tall erosion scarps have formed because dunes have been eaten away. In some areas, seawater has flooded inland, which may damage dune plants.

Most sand will return

As coastal conditions return to normal, much of this sand will naturally be transported back ashore. Our beaches will become steeper and wider again.

It won’t be immediate. It can take months for this to occur, and it’s not guaranteed – it depends on what wave conditions are like.

Some sand will have been washed into very deep water, or swept by currents away from the beaches. In these cases, sand will take longer to return or won’t return at all. Dunes recover more slowly than beaches. It may take years for them to recover.

Australia’s east coast has one of the longest longshore drift systems in the world, where sand is carried northward by currents to eventually join K'Gari/Fraser Island.

Can humans help?

Sand will naturally come back to most beaches. It’s usually best to let this natural process take place.

But if extreme erosion is threatening buildings or roads, beach nourishment might be necessary. Here, sand is added to eroded beaches to speed up the replenishment process.

Other options include building vertical seawalls or sloping revetment walls. These expensive methods of protection work very well to protect roads or buildings behind them. But these engineered structures often accelerate erosion of beaches and dunes.

We can help dunes by staying off them as much as possible. Plants colonising early dunes are very fragile and can be easily damaged. Temporary fencing can be used cheaply to trap sand and help dunes recover. Re-vegetating dunes is an efficient way of reducing future erosion.

How can we prepare for next time?

The uncertainty on Cyclone Alfred’s track, intensity and landfall location kept many people on edge, including at-risk communities and disaster responders. This uncertainty puts many scientists under enormous pressure. Decision-makers want fast and clear information, but it’s simply not possible.

In Australia, almost 90% of people live within 50km of the coast. In coming decades, the global coastal population will grow rapidly – even as sea level rise and more intense natural disasters put more people at risk.

As the climate crisis deepens, rebuilding in high-risk areas can create worse, more expensive problems.

Communities must begin talking seriously about managed retreat from some areas of the coast. This means not building on erosion-prone areas, choosing not to defend against sea incursion in some places and beginning to relocate houses and infrastructure to safer heights inland.

Decision-makers should also consider deploying nature-based solutions such as dunes, mangroves and oyster reefs to reduce the threat from the seas.

Technology has advanced rapidly since Cyclone Zoe made landfall in this region in 1974. We can track weather systems from satellites, get up-to-date weather and wave forecasts on our phones and use drones to see change on beaches and dunes.

But these technologies only work if we use them. The Gold Coast has the world’s largest coastal imaging program. But most other coastal regions don’t conduct long-term monitoring of dunes and beaches. Without it, we don’t have access to data vital to protecting our beaches and communities.

Javier Leon, Associate Professor in Physical Geography, University of the Sunshine Coast

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Late last year, a massive ocean swell caused by a low pressure system in the North Pacific generated waves up to 20 metres high, and damaged coastlines and property thousands of kilometres from its source.

Two years earlier, another storm system southeast of New Zealand also whipped up massive waves, with the swell reaching as far as Canada, battering Pacific island coasts along the way.

These storms, and the swells they create, are facts of nature. But while we understand a lot about the extraordinary forces at work, we can still do more to predict their impact and coordinate global warning systems.

How big waves are born

Waves are made by wind blowing over a water surface. The longer and stronger the wind blows, the more energy is transferred into those waves.

As well as an increase in wave height, sustained high wind speeds generate waves with a longer period – that is, the distance or time between successive wave crests. Oceanographers refer to the mix of wave heights and periods (and to some extent directions) as a “sea” state.

Once the wind stops blowing, or the sea moves away from the wind that is generating it, the waves become swell and start to separate. The longest-period waves move fastest and shorter-period waves more slowly.

Most waves resulting from a storm have periods of 12–16 seconds, with the individual waves travelling at speeds of 60–80km per hour.

But very large storms with high, sustained winds can generate waves with periods of more than 20 seconds. These waves travel much faster, over 100km per hour in the open ocean, and their energy (which travels more slowly than individual waves) can cover 1,500km in 24 hours.

Ocean waves, particularly long-period swells, lose very little energy as they travel. And unless they collide with an island and break, they are capable of travelling great distances.

By comparison, shorter period waves take much longer to travel and lose more energy. If they encounter a wind field moving in another direction, this also removes energy and reduces their height.

But sometimes, a particularly strong storm system can generate long-period waves with enough energy to travel across the Pacific, reaching shores thousands of kilometres away.

A unique characteristic of such long-range swells is that individual waves contain a lot more energy than shorter-period local waves. They grow to greater heights as they “shoal” in shallow water, and can hit shorelines and structures with greater force, causing more damage and danger.

The ‘Code Red 2’ swell

The “Code Red 2” swell was a good example of this in action. It was generated by a massive storm system southeast of New Zealand in July 2022. The “significant wave height”, or average of the largest third of the system’s waves, reached 13 metres. Individual waves were up to twice this height.

The storm system was unusual due to very strong southerly winds blowing northweard from near Antarctica for over 2,000km. This resulted in long-period (20 second) swells moving north into the Pacific Ocean.

The swell first reached Tahiti, where waves closed most of the south-facing coast, prompting a Code Red warning. This was only the second such warning since 2011 (hence its name), and resulted in massive waves at the Teahupo'o surf break, location of the 2024 Olympic surfing event.

The swell also caused flooding along the south coast of Rarotonga and other Pacific Islands before continuing north across the equator to reach the south coast of Hawaii – 7,000km from where it was generated.

Due to their direction and very long period, large waves reached places they don’t usually affect, literally crashing weddings and breaking over houses. The swell then carried on to hit the Californian coast some 10,000km away, and eventually reaching Canada more than a week after it was initially generated.

The ‘Eddie’ swell

More recently, the 2024 “Eddie” swell was generated from an extremely intense low pressure system in the North Pacific in December 2024. Waves near the centre of the storm reached heights of 20 metres, with a 22-second period.

The resulting swell hit Hawaii first, where waves were large enough to run the Eddie Aikau Big Wave Invitational at Waimea Bay, a surfing event that requires such large waves it has only been run 11 times in its 40-year history (and which gave the swell its name).

This extreme swell then reached California 3,000km away, where it also generated giant surf, damaged boats in coastal marinas and caused part of the Santa Cruz wharf to collapse.

Due to its very long period, the swell was able to continue southward, still with a lot of energy. It reached the north coast of Ecuador and Peru, 8,500km from where it began, where it destroyed fishing boats. And it finally hit Chile, 11,000km from its source, where it closed ports and inundated coastal promenades.

These coasts typically receive large southwest swells. But this rare, long-period north swell was able to reach normally protected north-facing sections of coast, causing uncharacteristic damage.

Predicting local impacts

It can be difficult to sound warnings for these types of long-period waves, as they are generated so far from the affected shorelines they are missed by local forecasters and emergency managers.

Global wave models such as those driven by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s National Centers for Environmental Prediction are capable of predicting and tracking these swells but require a more nuanced approach to predicting local impacts.

New early warning systems are being developed that take global wave forecasts and downscale them to take into account the shape of the local coastline. The wave information is then combined with predictions of tide and storm surge to give warnings of when coastal impacts may occur.

These systems will give emergency managers, ports and coastal infrastructure operators – and the public – better information and more time to prepare for these damaging wave events.

Tom Shand, Honorary Senior Lecturer, Department of Civil and Environmental Engineering, University of Auckland, Waipapa Taumata Rau

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

The age-old saying “you are what you eat” rings true – diet quality affects our health from the inside out. While a healthy diet can improve health and wellbeing, a poor diet increases the risk of chronic health conditions such as obesity, diabetes and heart disease.

But Australians’ diets appear to be getting worse, not better. Our new modelling study suggests by 2030, our diets will comprise almost 10% less fruit, and around 18% more junk food. This puts us further away from national targets for healthy eating.

A public health priority

A healthy diet is a priority area of the National Preventive Health Strategy. This strategy sets clear goals to improve diet quality by 2030, including increasing fruit and vegetable intake, and reducing consumption of discretionary or “junk” food.

Junk foods (such as cakes, chips, chocolate, confectionery, certain takeaway foods and sugary drinks) are high in saturated fat, salt and sugar, and should only be consumed occasionally and in small amounts.

The preventive health strategy stipulates adults should be consuming two servings of fruit per day and five serves of vegetables, and should be reducing discretionary foods to less than 20% of total energy intake.

Currently, we’re sitting well short of these targets.

We wanted to know whether we might be able to achieve these goals by 2030. So we combined unique data on Australians’ diets with predictive models to map out how our diets are likely to change by 2030.

The CSIRO Healthy Diet Score survey has been running since 2015. This survey uses short questions to measure intake of the five healthy food groups, including fruit and vegetables, as well as discretionary foods. The questions ask about how often people eat certain foods, and how much they eat, to determine an individual’s average daily consumption.

We analysed data from more than 275,000 people who completed this survey between 2015 and 2023. We used predictive modelling techniques called generalised linear models to forecast future diet trends against the national targets. We also broke our findings down by sex and age.

What we found suggests we’re heading in the wrong direction.

Fruit intake down, junk food up

Overall, we found fruit consumption is declining. On average, Australians were eating 0.1 fewer serves of fruit in 2023 than they did in 2015. If this trend continues, we expect a further 9.7% decrease in the average serves of daily fruit to 1.3 serves per day by 2030, well below national targets.

While vegetable consumption appears steady at around 3.7 serves per day, this is well below the recommended daily intake of 5 serves per day.

Concerningly, we are also seeing an increase in consumption of discretionary foods. Average daily intake increased by 0.7 serves between 2015 and 2023, with a further 0.8 serve increase predicted by 2030 (an 18% rise). That’s a 1.5 serve (40%) increase in just 15 years.

We can’t put an exact figure on how junk food intake stacks up against the targets, because we looked at serves per day, while the targets are about the proportion of total energy. However, the figures we identified constitute significantly more than 20% of total energy intake.

Things look worse for women. By 2030, women are predicted to be eating 13.2% less fruit and 21.6% more discretionary foods compared to 2023. For men, our predictions suggest a 4.8% decrease in fruit intake and a 19.5% increase in junk foods.

Despite a greater change in women, men are still predicted to be eating more discretionary foods by 2030 (6.3 serves per day for men versus 4.6 for women).

For Australians aged 30 and above, both fruit and vegetable intake are declining. Adults aged 31–50 have the lowest reported fruit and vegetable intake, but the largest change is in adults 71 and older. For these older Australians, we estimate a 14.7% decrease in fruit consumption and a 6.9% decrease in vegetable consumption by 2030. That’s equivalent to a decrease of 0.5 serves of fruit and 0.2 serves of vegetables since 2015.

Discretionary food intake is on the rise in all age groups, but particularly in younger adults.

However, young Australians (18–30 years) may be eating more discretionary foods, but they’re also the only ones eating more healthy food as well. Both fruit and vegetable consumption are increasing for young Australians, with our modelling suggesting a 10.7% and 13.2% respective rise in average serves per day by 2030.

Although this is a positive sign, it’s not enough, as these projections still put young Australians below the recommended daily intake.

Some limitations

Our modelling helps us to understand diet trends over recent years and project these into the future.

However, the research doesn’t tell us what’s driving the worrying trends we’ve observed in Australian diet quality. There are likely to be a variety of factors at play.

For example, many Australians understand what a “healthy balanced diet” is, but what we eat could be affected by social and personal preferences.

It could also be related to cost of living and other pressures which can make fresh food harder to obtain. Also, the area where we live can influence how easy or hard it is to make healthy food choices.

Understanding the root causes behind these changes is a vital area of future research.

In terms of other limitations, our study only focused on the diet quality of Australian adults and didn’t investigate trends is children’s diets.

Also, we only looked at fruit, vegetables and junk food in this study. But we are currently studying changes in the whole diet, taking in other food groups as well.

What can we do?

Australian diets are going in the wrong direction, but it’s not too late to correct the path. We need to ensure all Australians understand what constitutes a healthy diet, and can afford to maintain one.

While no one person, sector or organisation can do this alone, by working together we can put a greater focus towards eating a healthy diet. This includes reviewing policy around the availability and price of fresh fruits and vegetables, as well as looking at our own plates and swapping the junk food for healthier options.

Danielle Baird, a Team Leader in Nutrition and Behaviour at CSIRO, contributed to this article.

Matthew Ryan, Postdoctoral CERC Fellow, Human Health, CSIRO and Gilly Hendrie, Research Scientist, Human Health, CSIRO

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

While some parts of southeast Queensland and northern New South Wales are still on alert for flooding, others are starting the difficult clean-up process as flood waters recede.

Stagnant water after floods provides the perfect breeding ground for mosquitoes. So as you clean up, remember to empty containers of water and other reservoirs around your house and yard such as water-filled boats, trailers and other large objects. Get rid of debris that may be collecting water too.

This year, mozzies are carrying the usual viruses we want to avoid, such as Ross River virus, but the potentially deadly Japanese encephalitis virus has also been detected in parts of New South Wales and Queensland.

Will more mozzies mean more disease?

In February 2020, floods in northern NSW boosted mosquito activity and increased cases of mosquito-borne diseases caused by Ross River and Barmah Forest viruses in subsequent months.

But while flood waters may boost mosquito numbers, outbreaks of disease don’t always follow. Hurricanes in North America have been associated with increased mosquito populations but few outbreaks of disease.

In Australia too, there are few examples of mosquito-borne disease outbreaks after cyclones – with a notable exception. After Tropical Cyclone Zoe made landfall in 1974, we had one of the one of the biggest outbreaks of Murray Valley encephalitis virus later in the year.

Warmer weather helps drive big mosquito populations, and the forecast predicts a warmer-than-normal autumn. So health authorities are on the lookout for outbreaks of disease.

Japanese encephalitis is already active

Somewhat dry conditions in the summer of 2024-25 have meant mosquito populations in many regions of eastern Australia have remained well below average.

But cases of Japanese encephalitis virus have been widely detected in Victoria, NSW and Queensland – in mosquitoes, piggeries and feral pigs.

Humans have also been infected. Cases are rare but the disease can be serious, with symptoms ranging from fever, headache, and vomiting through to disorientation, coma, seizure and brain swelling. One person has died of the virus this year.

Japanese encephalitis virus first arrived in southeastern Australia over the summer of 2021-2022. That followed extensive flooding across the Murray Darling Basin thanks to the arrival of La Niña. At the time, there were phenomenal numbers of mosquitoes that continued over subsequent years as the above average rainfall continued.

In the summer of 2022-23, a significant outbreak of Murray Valley encephalitis was also linked to ongoing flooding. This disease has similar symptoms to Japanese encephalitis and can also be fatal.

Mosquito numbers this summer have only been a fraction of what was recorded during those seasons influenced by La Niña. The activity of Japanese encephalitis in 2024-25 has scientists scratching their heads, as it goes against the commonly held theories that greater mosquito numbers combined with increased waterbird activity (typically following flooding) drive greater transmission of viruses such as Japanese and Murray Valley encephalitis.

Fortunately, there is no evidence of these viruses along the coast of southeast Queensland through to northern NSW.

But regions where the virus has already been active, such as Darling Downs in Queensland and Moree in NSW, may see substantial rainfall as a result of ex-Tropical Cyclone Alfred.

Predicting outbreaks is incredibly difficult and relies not just on mosquito activity but also on on the dynamics of the the wildlife hosts that carry these viruses

But unpredictable mosquito-borne disease combined with extreme weather is not a good mix.

Don’t forget about Ross River virus

While not life threatening, disease caused by Ross River virus can be severely debilitating with joint pain and fatigue lasting many weeks or months.

Thousands of cases of infection are reported across the country each year, including in urban areas of southeast Queensland and northern NSW.

Concerns about Ross River diseases were already raised with heavy rain and flooding in northern Australia this summer. Case numbers often peak at the end or summer and early autumn. So there is potential for greater activity in the coming months.

Other mosquito-borne pathogens, such as Barmah Forest virus, may also be circulating and may cause cases of mild disease but these occur far less commonly than those due to Ross River virus infection.

Protect yourself while cleaning up

If you’re out cleaning up after the storms, try to avoid mosquito bites.

Cover up with long-sleeved shirts, long pants and covered shoes for a physical barrier against mosquito bites.

Use topical insect repellents containing DEET, picaridin, or oil of lemon eucalyptus. Be sure to apply an even coat on all exposed areas of skin for the longest-lasting protection.

For those living or working in regions of Queensland, NSW and Victoria at risk of Japanese encephalitis, a safe and effective vaccine is available.

Cameron Webb, Clinical Associate Professor and Principal Hospital Scientist, University of Sydney

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Australia’s food security is on the political agenda, with Labor flagging a new national strategy if it is re-elected for a second term.

“Feeding Australia” would build-in ways to make the agricultural sector more resilient. This industry focus is important, but it is only part of what the plan needs to achieve. Food security is about more than just food production and supply chains.

We also need the strategy to deal with chronic long-term food insecurity, which is defined by the United Nations as a lack of consistent access to adequate, safe and nutritious food.

According to food relief charity Foodbank, too many Australians simply don’t have enough to eat because of ongoing poverty and the cost-of-living crisis.

An abundance of food, but not enough to eat

Genuine food security means all Australians have consistent access to healthy food to meet their dietary needs and food preferences.

This is not the same thing as our farmers producing enough to hypothetically feed the whole country. In fact, we already do that, and more, with food exports sustaining a further 60 million people overseas.

Despite this abundance, not everyone has access to a fair share of food. Foodbank’s 2024 Hunger Report found 48% of Australians earning less than A$30,000 a year are food insecure, up 5% from 2022. Overall, the charity estimates almost one in three Australian households are either moderately or severely food insecure.

We have to rely on survey data from charities and researchers to understand the extent of Australia’s food security problem because no government has formally measured food insecurity in Australia since 2011. Evidence-based policy needs reliable data, so the national strategy should include a commitment to regularly measure people’s access to food.

Vulnerable Australians

Some groups of Australians are more vulnerable to food insecurity. These include single parents, homeless and older people, and people from culturally and linguistically diverse backgrounds. University students are also at higher risk.

The impact of the pandemic, compounded by the cost-of-living crisis, is even causing problems for some two income households with mortgages. Some in this group are experiencing food insecurity for the first time according to Foodbank.

A 2023 federal parliamentary report on food security made 35 recommendations. They include specific measures to improve household food security, such as:

• investigating the feasibility of a school meals program

• developing basic cooking skills as part of school curriculum

• assisting community projects for local food systems

• improving food security in remote and First Nations communities.

However the Feeding Australia strategy announcement makes no mention of these.

Remote challenges

Food insecurity is more prevalent and severe in remote regions, especially in many Indigenous communities, where high grocery prices and a lack of fresh food make putting healthy produce on the table a daily challenge.

Prime Minister Anthony Albanese recently announced a federal scheme to ensure the cost of 30 essential items in remote stores is on par with city prices for the same items. This is part of a just-released federal ten-year strategy to improve food security in First Nations communities.

While these measures are welcome, the Feeding Australia plan must heed the particular challenges faced by First Nations people when it comes to sustaining healthy diets.

No overarching strategy

It all comes back to a lack of coordinated approach to feeding the nation. Australia continues to lag the rest of the world in food security policy.

The Economist’s Global Food Security Index measures 113 countries across a range of indicators including affordability, availability and quality.

Australia scores a flat zero in the category of policy commitments to food security and access, compared with a global average of 47.1%. This rating was based on the lack of a national food security strategy and whether the government is responsible and can be held accountable for food security.

Food cuts across many government portfolios. Therefore, central responsibility for all aspects of national food security should rest with a Ministry of Food – which was recommended by the 2023 parliamentary inquiry.

This would bring all the threads together under one responsible department to lift our performance to an international standard.

Disasters and external threats

Shock-proofing the agriculture industry is another urgent objective of the Feeding Australia plan. Consistent and reliable supplies provided by farm production and transport networks are a critical part of national food security.

Crisis events that disrupt food supply, such as extreme weather events and global conflicts, also pose real threats to food security.

Australia needs a strategy that covers these risks and targets the entire supply chain from the farm gate to the dinner table.

Liesel Spencer, Associate Professor, School of Law, Western Sydney University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

US biotechnology company Colossal Laboratories and Biosciences has a radical proposal: it wants to resurrect the woolly mammoth from extinction. In a preprint paper published on March 4, scientists at Colossal report making a significant step towards this objective. They genetically modified the DNA of mice to give them mammoth-like traits in their hair shape, colour and length.

By testing out their methods in a familiar laboratory animal, the researchers can make sure they work before applying them to Asian elephants – the closest living relatives of the mammoth.

De-extinction is an idea which, if successfully implemented, would allow us to bring back any species from the dead. It means that no animal could go truly extinct as long as we can obtain its DNA.

However, mammoths were heavily adapted to a cold climate and a biome – an area with specific climate, vegetation and animal life – that no longer exists.

The Siberian habitats once roamed by the creatures – known as the mammoth steppe – are significantly warmer today. Many of the animals and plants they lived among have also disappeared, and the regions are now home to new ones that never lived alongside the mammoth.

Attempts to reintroduce woolly mammoths in our modern tundras could therefore prove difficult, and have untold repercussions on the current ecosystem. Against a background of climate change, these tundras are only going to get warmer and less suitable for an animal like the mammoth.

Nevertheless, Colossal is pushing ahead with efforts to recreate these striking creatures. Asian elephants diverged from mammoths around 6.7 million years ago and share over 95% of their DNA. Colossal plans to bridge this gap by transforming the genomes of Asian elephants to make them more like those of woolly mammoths.

Scientists have obtained high-quality woolly mammoth DNA sequences from carcasses preserved in Siberian permafrost. These genomes (the full complement of DNA in the cell) have allowed scientists to compare the genes that differ between the mammoth and the Asian elephant.

Multiplex editing

In order to generate their beauty prize-worthy mice, Colossal’s scientists used a range of highly advanced genome editing techniques to modify the sequence of DNA in the mouse. Regions of mouse DNA can be changed so they resemble genes in other organisms, such as a woolly mammoth.

These techniques are known collectively as multiplex editing and include the best known method, Crispr-Cas9. Multiplex genome editing gives scientists the ability to target and affect several genes at once (up to seven at a time in this case).

The scientists modified ten genes in total in their mice, in different combinations. Interestingly, only three were changed to resemble genes found in the woolly mammoth. The other seven had been previously identified to cause hair variation in mice, and produce traits somewhat similar to those found in mammoth hair. Although these are not mammoth gene variants, modifying them demonstrates the team’s ability to edit several genes at once through multiplex editing.

Two of the three mammoth-associated genes (Krt27 and Tgfa) have previously been linked to hair texture, based on comparisons with Asian elephants. Another gene, Fabp2, is thought to have facilitated efficient fat metabolism in mammoths – a presumed evolutionary adaptation to cold.

Modifying the Krt27 and Tgfa hair genes in mice led to a change in texture, making some hairs longer and rougher and others wavier and zigzaggy. The fact these gene modifications produced physical traits seen in mammoth hair provides a way of verifying the genes are indeed associated with changes in hair pattern, and therefore contribute to the mammoth’s distinctive woolliness. But editing the mice so they had the Fabp2 gene variant from mammoths led to no observable physical difference.

Of the seven mouse-identified genes modified by the researchers, one (a variant of the Mc1r gene) led to the shiny blond coat colour. At least one mammoth carcass dug up from the Siberian permafrost has a similar coat colour, so the change is certainly evocative of these ice age creatures.

A much bigger task

Although this is an exciting study into an area of research with incredible potential, there are a few limitations to keep in mind. While Asian elephants are the closest thing we currently have to mammoths, it would take a lot more than a few tweaks to hair length and squiggliness to meaningfully make a mammoth out of an elephant.

While George Church, the Harvard genetics professor who founded Colossal, claims that modifying 65 genes in Asian elephants will accomplish this goal, the reality is likely to be more complicated.

Indeed, the fact that editing the Fabp2 gene – associated with fat metabolism in mammoths – led to no observable difference in the mice is one example of the many gaps in our understanding of mammoth genetics. Put another way, this shows that we have some way to go to fully understand the causal relationship between genes and phenotype – the visible characteristics in a living organism.

Increasing the number of simultaneously targeted genes from seven to 65 could also introduce various unintended consequences, including accidentally modifying unintended DNA regions similar to the target sequence (known as the off-target effects of genome editing). It also remains difficult to achieve changes in all genes at once; here too, scaling up from seven to 65 will pose a noteworthy challenge.

On top of this, even if Colossal manages to make all 65 gene changes in their Asian elephants, there are likely to be many more differences between mammoth and elephant genomes that have not yet been identified. These include genes involved in behaviour, and in regions of the genome that dictate when genes are switched on or off. While mice are an extremely well studied experimental organism, elephants are less well characterised.

As a proof of concept, this research is fascinating, although it remains to be seen whether Colossal’s goal of creating an elephant-mammoth hybrid by 2028 is achievable. It would be more likely to generate a mammoth-like Asian elephant than something exactly like the ice age creature.

Finally, it is worth considering the end goal of this branch of research. Mammoths went extinct only 4,000 years ago, but at this point they had already been pushed into a fraction of their initial range – restricted to a tiny surviving population on Wrangel island in the Russian Arctic.

Another of Colossal’s objectives is to bring back the thylacine, a carnivore that once lived in Tasmania. Given it went extinct due to active hunting in the 20th century, the thylacine should at least still have suitable habitat.

However, if the goal is simply to counteract extinction, more sustainable efforts to avoid future extinctions might be better than expensive genetic engineering. De-extinction cannot replace efforts to preserve the one planet we have, and all the living organisms we share it with.

Benjamin Tapon, PhD student, Queen Mary University of London and Alex de Mendoza, Senior Lecturer In Bioinformatics, Queen Mary University of London

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Even celebrities aren’t immune from foot-related issues such as the dreaded thickened toenail. Actor Danny DeVito, former basketball player Shaquille O'Neal and Guardians of the Galaxy star Chris Pratt have all posted photos of their poorly pinkies online over the past couple of years.

Thickened and discoloured toenails can be caused by a variety of issues, from ill-fitting shoes or trauma from stubbing your toe, to ageing and psoriasis (a chronic skin condition). Often, though, they’re caused by a fungal infection.

Fungal nail infections may seem embarrassing, but they’re actually very common. Also known by the scientific name onychomycosis, fungal nails affect around 10% of people worldwide, climbing to 50% in older adults.

These infections most often affect the toes, causing nails to thicken, crumble and become discoloured. The effect isn’t just cosmetic, though. Fungal nails can cause paronychia – pain and inflammation of the skin around the nail – making everyday activities more challenging.

Fungal nail infections are most often caused by dermatophytes – the fungi that feed on keratin, the protein that gives nails their strength. Yeasts and moulds can also cause the condition.

Sharing communal spaces like gyms, hot tubs, swimming pools and changing rooms increases your exposure to fungal spores. Then, tiny cracks or injuries from everyday wear or poor footcare can allow these organisms to invade the nail – typically through gaps between the hard nail plate and the underlying nail bed.

Older age, weakened immune systems, diabetes and poor circulation make nails more brittle and less resilient to infection. Closed shoes and sweaty feet create ideal growth conditions.

However, a few simple daily habits can help prevent fungal nail infections:

1) Dry your feet thoroughly after each shower or swim – this makes your toenails less inviting to fungi.

2) Choose shoes made from breathable materials and wear moisture-wicking socks to help keep your feet dry.

3) Ensure a good shoe fit and protect your nails during activities to maintain nail health.

4) Wear flip-flops in public areas like pools, gyms and communal showers to limit exposure to fungal spores.

But even if you follow all these measures, a fungal nail infection can still happen. If you develop a crumbly, discoloured nail, how should you treat it?

Home remedies and medication

Applying Vicks VapoRub to the affected nail is a popular home remedy. But while there may be lots of personal success stories on social media, there’s scant scientific evidence to support these claims.

As far as I can see, only two small clinical trials have tested the product’s effectiveness on fungal nails. One pilot study found that 83% of people showed some improvement, with nearly 28% achieving both a laboratory-confirmed cure and visibly clearer nails after 48 weeks. And another study in people living with HIV reported similar improvements after 24 weeks.

Vicks VapoRub contains ingredients with antifungal properties, including eucalyptus oil, camphor and menthol. The product may also oxidise when exposed to air and sunlight, producing a mild bleaching effect that brightens the nail.

However, it’s important to note this product is licensed as a cough suppressant and topical analgesic (a medication applied directly to the skin to relieve pain in muscles and joints), not as a treatment for fungal nail infections. So, while the research findings may sound promising, larger, more rigorous studies are needed to confirm its effectiveness as a standalone therapy.

Alternatively, oral medications are available by prescription and can clear the infection in 50–80% of cases over several months. But they require regular monitoring for side-effects and potential drug interactions, so may not be suitable for everyone.

Topical treatments like paint-on nail lacquers are another option for mild cases affecting one or two nails. These treatments tend to have fewer side effects compared with oral medications, but often struggle to penetrate the nail bed. As a result, it can take six-to-12 months to see improvement as the nail grows out.

Laser therapy is an emerging treatment that uses high-energy light to heat the nail and kill the fungus, while leaving surrounding tissue unharmed. Early studies suggest several laser therapy sessions may lead to clearer nails, but the long-term benefits remain uncertain – and this treatment can be costly due to the need for repeated sessions.

A combined approach that pairs oral medication with topical treatments and regular nail cutting tackles the problem from multiple angles. This method has shown promising results in clearing infections more effectively, particularly when several nails are affected.

Simple lifestyle changes

Fungal nail infections are a widespread condition, influenced by factors like moisture, age, immune status and nail trauma. Simple lifestyle changes can greatly reduce the risk. Advances in treatments, from oral and topical medications to laser and combined approaches, offer hope for healthier nails.

Bear in mind, though, it can be a challenge to tell the difference between thickened nails caused by trauma from footwear, and those caused by a fungal nail infection. So, someone with thick, discoloured nails might home-treat with topical products, mistakenly thinking they have a fungal toe infection. But in fact, they will only see improvement once they remove the cause of the trauma – a podiatrist can diagnose this condition accurately.

In all cases, if you continue to struggle with fungal nail infections, consider seeking medical advice from a specialist. This should ensure you can step confidently into each new day.

Craig Gwynne, Senior Lecturer in Podiatry, Cardiff Metropolitan University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Some 50 years ago, on March 1 1975, Australian television stations officially moved to colour.

Networks celebrated the day, known as “C-Day”, with unique slogans such as “come to colour” (ABC TV), “Seven colours your world” (Seven Network), “living colour” (Nine Network) and “first in colour” (0-10 Network, which later became Network Ten). The ABC, Seven and Nine networks also updated their logos to incorporate colour.

For most viewers, however, nothing looked much different. The majority owned a black and white TV, while a coloured broadcast required a colour TV set.

Advertisers were initially reluctant to accept the change, which required them to re-shoot black and white commercials with colour stock at a significantly higher cost.

Many reasoned viewers were still watching the ads in black and white. And initially this assumption was correct. But by nine months later, 17% of Australian homes had a colour receiver. This rose to 31% by July 1976.

By 1978, 64% of Melbourne and 70% of Sydney households owned colour TV sets, making Australia one of the world’s fastest adopters of colour TV.

According to the Federation of Australian Commercial Television Stations (FACTS) annual report for 1975–76, colour TV increased overall viewership by 5%, with people watching for longer periods.

The 1976 Montreal Olympics also led to an increase in TV sales, with the colour broadcast shared between the ABC, Seven and Nine.

A late start

With the United States introducing colour TV from 1954, it’s peculiar that Australia took so long to make the transition – especially since conversations about this had been underway since the 1960s.

In 1965, a report outlining the process and economic considerations of transitioning to colour was tabled in parliament.

Feedback from the US highlighted problems around broader acceptance in the marketplace. Colour TV sets were expensive and most programs were still being shot in black and white, despite the availability of colour.

Networks were the most hesitant (even though they’d go on to become one of the most major benefactors). In 1969, it was estimated transitioning to colour would cost the ABC A$46 million (the equivalent of $265,709,944 today) over six years.

The federal government, led by then prime minister Robert Menzies, decided to take a cautious approach to the transition – allowing manufacturers, broadcasters and the public time to prepare.

The first colour “test” broadcast took place on June 15 1967, with live coverage of a Pakenham country horse racing event in Victoria (although few people would have had coloured TV sets at this point).

Other TV shows also tested broadcasting in colour between 1972 and 1974, with limited colour telecasts aired from mid-1974. It wasn’t until March 1975 that colour TV was being transmitted permanently.

The cinema industry panics

Australia’s involvement in the Vietnam War created further urgency to televise in colour. With the war ending in April 1975, Australians watched the last moments in colour.

Other significant events broadcast in colour that year included the December federal election, in which Malcolm Fraser defeated Gough Whitlam after the latter was dramatically dismissed as prime minister on November 11.

With the public’s growing interest in colour TV, local manufacturers began lobbying for higher tariffs on imports to encourage domestic colour TV production.

In the mid 1970s, a new colour set in Australia cost between $1,000 and $1,300, while the average full-time annual income was around $8,000. Still in the throes of a financial recession, customers began seeking out illegally-imported colour TV sets – which were appearing at car boot markets across the country.

The government also created an advertising campaign warning the public of scammers who would offer to convert black-and-white TVs to colour. These door-to-door “salesmen” claimed to have a special screen which, when placed over a TV, would magically turn it colourful.

By 1972, the estimated cost of upgrading broadcasting technology to colour had reached $116 million. The cinema industry, in a panic, even questioned whether colour TV could damage a viewer’s eyesight.

The industry had previously suffered huge losses in cinema attendance with the introduction of black-and-white TV from 1956. Cinemas had a monopoly on colour and were petrified over what the introduction of colour to television could do to their attendances.

Such fears were founded. In 1974 Australia had 68 million admissions to the cinema. By 1976, there were just 28.9 million admissions. Never again would yearly cinema admissions reach above 40 million.

But despite the complaints – from the cinema industry, advertisers, broadcasters and manufacturers – audiences were ready for colour. And any network that dared to program in black and white would subject itself to a barrage of annoyed viewers.

Colour TV was here to stay.

Stephen Gaunson, Associate Professor in Cinema Studies, RMIT University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

We have discovered the oldest meteorite impact crater on Earth, in the very heart of the Pilbara region of Western Australia. The crater formed more than 3.5 billion years ago, making it the oldest known by more than a billion years. Our discovery is published today in Nature Communications.

Curiously enough, the crater was exactly where we had hoped it would be, and its discovery supports a theory about the birth of Earth’s first continents.

The very first rocks

The oldest rocks on Earth formed more than 3 billion years ago, and are found in the cores of most modern continents. However, geologists still cannot agree how or why they formed.

Nonetheless, there is agreement that these early continents were critical for many chemical and biological processes on Earth.

Many geologists think these ancient rocks formed above hot plumes that rose from above Earth’s molten metallic core, rather like wax in a lava lamp. Others maintain they formed by plate tectonic processes similar to modern Earth, where rocks collide and push each other over and under.

Although these two scenarios are very different, both are driven by the loss of heat from within the interior of our planet.

We think rather differently.

A few years ago, we published a paper suggesting that the energy required to make continents in the Pilbara came from outside Earth, in the form of one or more collisions with meteorites many kilometres in diameter.

As the impacts blasted up enormous volumes of material and melted the rocks around them, the mantle below produced thick “blobs” of volcanic material that evolved into continental crust.

Our evidence then lay in the chemical composition of tiny crystals of the mineral zircon, about the size of sand grains. But to persuade other geologists, we needed more convincing evidence, preferably something people could see without needing a microscope.

So, in May 2021, we began the long drive north from Perth for two weeks of fieldwork in the Pilbara, where we would meet up with our partners from the Geological Survey of Western Australia (GSWA) to hunt for the crater. But where to start?

A serendipitous beginning

Our first target was an unusual layer of rocks known as the Antarctic Creek Member, which crops out on the flanks of a dome some 20 kilometres in diameter. The Antarctic Creek Member is only 20 metres or so in thickness, and mostly comprises sedimentary rocks that are sandwiched between several kilometres of dark, basaltic lava.

However, it also contains spherules – droplets formed from molten rock thrown up during an impact. But these drops could have travelled across the globe from a giant impact anywhere on Earth, most likely from a crater that has now been destroyed.

After consulting the GSWA maps and aerial photography, we located an area in the centre of the Pilbara along a dusty track to begin our search. We parked the offroad vehicles and headed our separate ways across the outcrops, more in hope than expectation, agreeing to meet an hour later to discuss what we’d found and grab a bite to eat.

Remarkably, when we returned to the vehicle, we all thought we’d found the same thing: shatter cones.

Shatter cones are beautiful, delicate branching structures, not dissimilar to a badminton shuttlecock. They are the only feature of shock visible to the naked eye, and in nature can only form following a meteorite impact.

Little more than an hour into our search, we had found precisely what we were looking for. We had literally opened the doors of our 4WDs and stepped onto the floor of a huge, ancient impact crater.

Frustratingly, after taking some photographs and grabbing a few samples, we had to move on to other sites, but we determined to return as soon as possible. Most importantly, we needed to know how old the shatter cones were. Had we discovered the oldest known crater on Earth?

It turned out that we had.

There and back again

With some laboratory research under our belts, we returned to the site in May 2024 to spend ten days examining the evidence in more detail.

Shatter cones were everywhere, developed throughout most of the Antarctic Creek Member, which we traced for several hundred metres into the rolling hills of the Pilbara.

Our observations showed that above the layer with the shatter cones was a thick layer of basalt with no evidence of impact shock. This meant the impact had to be the same age as the Antarctic Member rocks, which we know are 3.5 billion years old.

We had our age, and the record for the oldest impact crater on Earth. Perhaps our ideas regarding the ultimate origin of the continents were not so mad, as many told us.

Serendipity is a marvellous thing. As far as we knew, other than the Traditional Owners, the Nyamal people, no geologist had laid eyes on these stunning features since they formed.

Like some others before us, we had argued that meteorite impacts played a fundamental role in the geological history of our planet, as they clearly had on our cratered Moon and on other planets, moons and asteroids. Now we and others have the chance to test these ideas based on hard evidence.

Who knows how many ancient craters lay undiscovered in the ancient cores of other continents? Finding and studying them will transform our understanding of the early Earth and the role of giant impacts, not only in the formation of the landmasses on which we all live, but in the origins of life itself.

Tim Johnson, Professor, Geology, Curtin University; Chris Kirkland, Professor of Geochronology, Curtin University, and Jonas Kaempf, Research Associate, Geology, Curtin University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Dubbed “the tobacco wars”, the illegal trade in untaxed tobacco products is reportedly booming in Australia.

Some people see buying these cheap cigarettes as a way to save money. But as this week’s ABC Four Corners reported, it comes at great cost to the community, with fire-bombings, murder, serious crimes funded by illegal sales and a loss of crucial government funding for community services.

In all states and territories in Australia, retail outlets already or will soon need to have a licence to sell cigarettes.

But there aren’t restrictions on the number of licensed outlets.

And our new research shows the number of tobacconists, including those suspected of organised crime, is growing.

How many Australians smoke?

Australia has been a leader in tobacco control: introducing plain packaging, preventing most forms of tobacco advertising and promotion, and setting high tax rates to discourage people, especially youth, from buying tobacco.

These measures have helped reduce smoking to around one in ten people.

But tobacco use is still a leading cause of preventable disease in Australia.

Research suggests people who live in areas with a greater number of tobacco retailers are more likely to smoke. Having a greater number of tobacco retailers can reduce the price through competition and increase impulse buying, making it more difficult to quit smoking.

Disadvantaged areas of Australia have a higher number of tobacco retailers compared to wealthier areas.

Some tobacconists still target children

The Australian government recognises the need to reduce the availability of tobacco.

However, when we reviewed the tobacco control laws throughout Australia, we found there are no restrictions on the number of tobacco retailers or where they can operate. This increases the challenge of monitoring them.

There are also minimal restrictions on the types of retailers that can sell tobacco, or what other products specialist tobacconists can sell. People under 18 years are also allowed to enter specialist tobacconists without adult supervision.

This has led to examples such as toy stores selling tobacco, and tobacconists having window displays featuring toys and promoting confectionery. Some Australian tobacconists have even painted their shopfronts in children’s cartoon characters.

This makes tobacco easy to buy and makes it seem like a “normal” consumer product, rather than an addictive, deadly substance.

Retailers need licences – but these aren’t capped

Crimes related to selling untaxed tobacco illegally increased substantially from about 2018. There has also been an increase in the number of tobacconist stores. Between July 2022 and June 2023, we estimated the number of tobacconists in Queensland had risen by 18.5%.

Without tobacco retailer licensing, regulators do not have accurate records of who is selling tobacco, where it is being sold and they have fewer options for dealing with retailers who break the law.

The three most populated states (representing 77% of the Australian population) have not had a tobacco retailer licensing scheme until recently (Queensland, from September 2024) or are currently establishing a scheme (Victoria and New South Wales). All other states and territories had pre-existing licensing schemes.

But like all states and territories with current licence schemes, neither NSW or Victoria have capped the number of licences that will be issued.

Restrictions on the number and locations of tobacco licensees was recommended by the Victorian Public Accounts and Estimates Committee in response to an inquiry into vaping and tobacco controls, but this was not adopted.

Retailers need to adapt to low tobacco sales

Removing operators from the tobacco retailing sector who are illegally selling untaxed products is crucial to reducing the illicit tobacco trade and associated violence.

Some tobacconists have described a downturn in their business turnover as some customers switched to buying illegally supplied untaxed products. This has reduced their commercial viability.

However, tobacco sales have been in decline for many years also because adults are quitting smoking and fewer youth are starting. When the Australian government reaches its next target of less than 5% of the population smoking, tobacco retail sales will be even lower.

Retailers need to be prepared for a drop in their tobacco sales as fewer Australians smoke. They may also need government support to adapt their businesses. This could include advice on alternative products and services, or financial support to exit the industry, as was offered to tobacco growers in the 1990s.

A long-term alternative to tobacco retail

In the longer term, more reforms are needed to deal with the fundamental problems that arise from retail stores selling tobacco as a commercial product for profit.

One option is pharmaceutical-like regulation of tobacco. This would ensure everyone who buys it receives health education about the risks and advice on how to quit.

Another option is non-profit supply, such as has been used for supplying cannabis in other countries. This would see tobacco supplied through non-profit enterprises. Commercial tobacco companies would no longer be involved in marketing or promoting these products.

Expanding access to free help to quit smoking should also be a priority. More than 70% of smokers would like to quit within the next one to two years. They should be supported to do so.

Coral Gartner, Director, NHMRC Centre of Research Excellence on Achieving the Tobacco Endgame, The University of Queensland; Hollie Bendotti, Postdoctoral Research Fellow, School of Public Health and Thoracic Research Centre, The University of Queensland; Kylie Morphett, Research Fellow, School of Public Health, The University of Queensland, and Michaela Estelle Okninski, Senior Principal Social Scientist - Law Research, The University of Queensland

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

On March 11 2020, as COVID continued to spread rapidly around the globe, the World Health Organization (WHO) officially declared a pandemic.

More than 7 million people have since died from COVID. The virus, and the public health measures enacted to control it, have had far-reaching effects on societies around the world.

Five years on, the virus continues to circulate. But, thanks to vaccines and immunity acquired from infections, hospitalisations and deaths due to COVID are vastly less frequent than in previous years.

Meanwhile, long COVID continues to have a major impact on people’s lives. Estimates suggest more than 400 million people around the world have had or are currently living with long COVID.

At this point, Australia and the world must take the lessons of COVID – in areas from surveillance, to outbreak response, to vaccines and therapeutics – to be better prepared for the next pandemic.

Some areas we went right – and wrong

Our diagnostic laboratories across Australia were well prepared. Laboratories at the Doherty Institute diagnosed the first case of COVID in Australia and were the first to isolate and share the virus globally in early 2020.

At the same time, a national public health response was quickly put in place. This involved measures such as closing borders, setting up testing centres, and limiting gatherings.

But there are several areas where we could have mobilised more effectively.

During the early stages of the pandemic, there were, at times, challenges with sharing data as well as biological samples and the ingredients for COVID tests between the different states and territories.

For example, there are currently restrictions in place that limit sharing of virus strains between states and territories. But when a new strain emerges, many laboratories need access to it to evaluate their testing capabilities.

One recommendation from an independent 2024 review of the federal government’s COVID response was an Australian Centre for Disease Control. An interim version was launched in early 2024 and the Australian government is investing A$251.7 million in this important initiative.

The goal for the new centre for disease control will be to provide independent technical advice on infectious diseases to government. It will also facilitate rapid integration of data from all states and territories leading to a more unified response.

At the start of a pandemic, we need to understand everything about the new virus and at great speed. This needs systems in place in “peace time”, ready to be mobilised in “war time”.

Back in 2020, we had protocols ready for hospitalised patients and intensive care units to collect specimens and also start new clinical trials. But we were not prepared on many other fronts, for example to collect samples or study how COVID was transmitted in the community or in different key groups.

Every day counts at the start of a pandemic.

Harnessing medical technologies

Relatively recent technological advances in both diagnostics (RAT tests) and vaccine development (the use of messenger RNA, which gives our body genetic instructions to fight COVID) have put us in a strong position to be at the cutting edge in any pandemic response.

Moderna, one of the two companies that pioneered the mRNA vaccines, has established its Asia-Pacific headquarters in Melbourne. CSL, which made the AstraZeneca COVID vaccines in Australia and manufactures several other vaccines, has now incorporated mRNA in its repertoire.

This capability means Australians could have immediate access to mRNA vaccines in the event of another pandemic. We could also potentially manufacture these vaccines for low- and middle-income countries in our region.

But what if we can’t make an effective vaccine to fight a future pandemic? This is a situation we must be prepared for, as we’ve seen with infections such as HIV, where after 40 years of trying and billions of dollars spent, we still don’t have a vaccine.

In such a situation, we will need to rely on antiviral drugs. The way we currently make antiviral drugs takes significantly longer to develop than vaccines. And although we have some broad spectrum antiviral drugs, the most potent antivirals are very specific – meaning one drug treats only one type of virus.

To be better prepared for future pandemics, many groups around the world are working on developing a library of drugs that work against whole families of viruses that could cause the next pandemic.

Another approach is to develop totally new technologies that are fully tested for one virus, but can be easily adapted to a new virus. This approach could allow more rapid deployment, as the details of safety and dosing would already be understood.

This is one of the major goals of the recently launched Cumming Global Centre for Pandemic Therapeutics based at the Doherty Institute.

These ambitious efforts will require global collaboration, sharing resources and engagement of the private sector.

Once we have a vaccine or drug that works, we need agreed systems in place to ensure widespread equitable access. We fell seriously short of this goal with COVID. Some low- and middle-income countries received vaccines months or years later than high income countries. For treatments, antivirals such as Paxlovid were never available in many countries.

This is one goal of an agreement led by the WHO, called the “pandemic accord”, to have member states agree on pandemic prevention, preparedness and response. But after years of discussion, there remains no binding agreement.

Preparing for the next pandemic

As COVID was (partly due to advances in technology) the most intensively studied pandemic in human history, we have a unique resource in the record of what happened to inform our response to any future pandemic.

And this is likely a matter of when, not if. New infectious disease outbreaks have continued to emerge over the past five years, including mpox, which was declared a public health emergency of international concern in July 2022 and again in August 2024.

Right now, there’s an outbreak of a new viral disease in the Congo, the origins of which have still not been identified.

We know bats, thought to be the source of the coronavirus behind the COVID pandemic, carry an enormous spectrum of viruses that potentially threaten us. But new pandemics can also arise through mosquitoes and close contact with other animals.

Pandemics are global, not national, problems. We are at a pivotal time where countries including Australia must step up their commitments to this global effort. This will need politicians to rely on the evidence and lessons learned from COVID as well as private and public investment.

Unfortunately, five years down the track, we still have a long way to go to be prepared for the next pandemic.

Sharon Lewin, Melbourne Laureate Professor, University of Melbourne; Director, The Peter Doherty Institute for Infection and Immunity and Peter C. Doherty, Laureate Professor Emeritus, The Peter Doherty Institute for Infection and Immunity

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

More than 260,000 students across Australia are going to university for the first time.

Some come to university to pursue a passion, others to discover one, and some aren’t quite sure why they’re here. Whatever their reason, it can take time to adjust and feel comfortable at uni, and some students decide studying is not for them. In their first year, around 14% of Australian students will choose to leave.

What do you do if you get to uni and it isn’t quite what you expect?

Expectations versus reality

The transition from high school to university can be a big adjustment, especially for Year 12 students who are used to structured learning and clear guidance. Suddenly, you’re managing a new timetable, deadlines, and navigating new places and possibly new subjects on your own.

While university social clubs and campus activities can help you settle in, your first year at university can be a lonely time. You are away from familiar school friends and in classes full of people you don’t know.

Mature-aged students (anyone over 21) face their own challenges when life experience does not always translate to confidence in academic skills.

Juggling study, work and personal commitments isn’t easy. Fitting university in around other life pressures can feel overwhelming.

Seek out support

Each university will have slightly different offerings around student support.

If you are finding the academic work difficult, ask if there are academic writing supports or library research supports available.

If you are worried about your funds, ask about financial counselling.

Also seek out on-campus mental health or counselling supports if you you are feeling particularly stressed about your situation.

Can you change your degree or subjects?

If you’re not enjoying yourself, try to work out exactly what it is you don’t like: is it university itself? Is it your course? Or just a particular subject?

If your current degree isn’t working, you could consider switching degrees or the mix of subjects you are studying. Switching to another degree or discipline may come with credit for prior study. Remember, no learning is ever wasted, and many skills are transferable. You can talk to your university admissions team to see what’s possible.

Or perhaps part-time study would be a better option for you. This is very common among uni students. Only 40% complete their degree within four years.

Universities often allow up to ten years for a bachelors’ degree, so you have time to rethink and adjust. Chat with an academic advisor or student services to understand your options.

If university isn’t working at all, remember there are many other options post-school. This includes vocational education and training courses (some of which are free) that provide practical skills, geared towards a job. It is OK to change your mind.

Key dates to know

Timing is important. You need to be aware of the “census date” for your particular uni. This is the deadline when your fees are locked in.

Before then, you can drop courses without financial or academic penalties.

Think of the time before the census date as a “try-before-you-buy” period. While dates vary between universities, the first few weeks give you a chance to experience course content and decide if it’s the right fit for you.

Remember you are going through a big change – so go easy on yourself. And speak to academic, career, and wellbeing supports at your university if you think you need to make a change.

Catherine Stephen, Lecturer, School of Nursing, University of Wollongong; Brandon W. Smith, Associate Lecturer, School of Nursing, University of Wollongong, and Christopher Patterson, Associate Professor, School of Nursing, University of Wollongong

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Whether it’s for a work meeting or a class assignment, presenting data to others is a common task on our to-do list.

We use data to make decisions on our health, finances and the world we live in, yet finding the best ways to communicate data without boring your audience can be daunting.

However, there are some tried and true techniques to getting your message across effectively.

First, you need to boost your data literacy – which includes learning about the different kind of charts and how to use them.

What is data literacy?

Data literacy is the ability to “plot” and present complex data in a way that’s easy to digest. There is even a branch of statistics focusing on the best way to present data.

It’s one of the most desired skills in the workplace, yet a 2020 survey found only one in five employees across nine different countries (including Australia) believe they are data literate.

With seemingly countless options available, choosing the right chart is challenging, and the wrong choice can influence how data is interpreted.

Passing on the humble pie

Pie charts are often the first pick when it comes to presenting data with different categories, such as age group or blood type. These categories are represented as slices, with the size of each slice proportional to the amount of data.

Doughnut charts, a close relative of the pie chart, work the same way but are shown with a hole in the middle.

As delicious as they sound, these charts should be consumed in moderation.

Pie charts present data in a circular pattern, making it difficult to make comparisons when there are many groups, or when groups are similar in size. They can also misrepresent data entirely, especially when data add up to over 100%.

Here are some alternatives to pie charts that sound just as tasty, but are easier to digest.

Bar charts

Bar charts summarise data across different categories, but present them next to each other. This makes it easier to compare several categories at once.

Here is an example from the Australian Bureau of Statistics showing the different generations from the last census.

Waffle charts

Waffle charts are a good option for data organised by categories.

They present data in a grid, with each unit representing a fixed number. This is useful for presenting both large and small percentages that are difficult to compare side-by-side.

We can clearly see most people eat meat from the figure.

However, a bar chart would make comparing less common diets difficult. With a waffle chart, we can see 4% of people surveyed are vegan, while 2% are pescetarian.

Histograms

Data often represent different measurements, such as height and weight, or time taken to write an article.

Histograms also present data with bars but, unlike bar charts, are used for data collected as numbers, or numerical data.

This chart type is used to show how a set of numbers are spread out, and can be useful in seeing which numbers occur more often than others.

It’s tempting to simplify data by fitting them into categories, but this can sometimes hide interesting facts.

The example below shows the body mass index (BMI) of a group of people as a bar chart.

It’s easy to lose information when trying to simplify BMI into categories, especially among people who may be obese.

Each category in the bar chart could easily be misunderstood as representing BMI as similar ranges. However, if we look at the histogram, BMI for obese people can be as high as 70.

A doctor using this data would need to take into account that someone with a BMI of 60 may need a different treatment method compared to someone with a BMI of 30.

Line charts and scatterplots

Other chart types for numerical data, such as line charts and scatterplots, allow us to explore how different measurements are related to one another.

Line charts are used to visualise trends over time, such as stock prices and weekly flu cases.

In contrast, scatterplots show how two different measurements collected on the same subject are related.

While scatterplots summarise trends, they sometimes show unusual results that would go unnoticed if measurements were charted separately.

For example, the figure below compares life expectancy and health expenditure in different countries.

If we’re only looking at health expenditure, people from the United States would appear healthier as the US spends the most money on health care per person.

Presenting this information along with life expectancy tells a different story.

Keep it simple and avoid ‘chart junk’

It is always tempting to add more information.

“Chart junk” refers to extra information such as excess labels, 3D effects or even different types of data in the same chart.

This makes them more difficult to read and can distort the data, and is usually a sign your data is too complicated. You’re better off using multiple charts to tell the full story.

As Coco Chanel once said, “simplicity is the keynote of all true elegance”.

Keep these words in mind and choose a chart that keeps it simple without compromising style, content and detail.

Nicole White, Associate Professor of Statistics, Queensland University of Technology

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

In the summer of 1905, a young Canadian widow, Mina Hubbard, set out on an expedition to map the northeastern corner of Labrador, from Lake Melville up to Ungava Bay, an inlet of the Arctic Ocean. It was an unusual challenge for a former nurse who had left school at 16.

Her husband, Leonidas Hubbard, had died in this same harsh environment two years earlier. Mina, 35, intended to complete his work.

Although she faced physical dangers on the 600-mile journey – starvation, bears, freezing rivers and rapids – her greatest antagonists were the reporters and editors of the male-dominated outdoors press of early 20th-century north America.

The popular Outing magazine, for whom Leonidas Hubbard had written, was the most excoriating. Its editor, Caspar Whitney, thundered in an editorial that “the widow” should not be in the wilderness, let alone speak about it.

The wild was no place for a white woman, especially one accompanied by First Nation (Native American) guides. This was not long after she had given an interview to another paper.

Other newspapers described her as a grief-stricken hysteric. This was the only explanation they could find for her decision to go on such a long and arduous journey. When she was 300 miles into her expedition, having found the source of the Naskaupi River, the New York Times reported on its front page that she had given up, beaten back by hardship and privations.

Instead the paper claimed that a man, an explorer called Dillon Wallace who was also in northern Labrador, was “pushing forward beyond any white man’s previous track”. In fact, Hubbard had neither given up, nor had Wallace caught up with her. She would reach Ungava Bay several weeks before his party. But it fitted the dominant narrative of the time: that the wilderness was no place for a woman.

I explore the idea of what the wild is, and of its being a gendered space, in my new book, Wildly Different: How Five Women Reclaimed Nature in a Man’s World. From ancient myths such as Ulysses or Gilgamesh, to the present where research shows that women face harassment and othering even on remote Antarctic bases, the wild has for centuries been a site of heroic male adventuring and rugged exploration.

Studies show that even in modern hunting societies, while women tend forest plots and hunt small game near the village or camp, it is the men who go away, often for many days, to hunt for big game and status.

Myths from across the world have told listeners and readers that women who stray beyond the city wall, village paling or encampment are either supernatural, monsters, or have been banished for perceived sins against society.

In the Greek myth of Polyphonte, the young girl who refuses to follow the correct gender role to become a wife and mother, and wants instead to hunt in the forest, is treated to a terrible punishment from the gods. She is tricked into falling in love with a bear-turned-man and gives birth to two bestial children. She and her sons are then transformed into flesh-eating birds.

In a more recent echo of the media coverage of Mina Hubbard’s journey, in Kenya in the 1980s and 1990s, the environmental activist Wangari Maathai was attacked and belittled. She even had a curse put on her for planting trees in forests earmarked for development by the country’s then president, Daniel arap Moi, and for challenging Moi’s plans to build a skyscraper in one of Nairobi’s last green spaces.

At the height of Maathai’s confrontation with President Moi, the Daily Nation newspaper repeated criticism of both Maathai and her Green Belt Movement organisation. Headlines included: “MPs condemn Prof Maathai” and “MPs want Maathai movement banned”. Her crime? Wanting to slow disastrous desertification and soil erosion, and to empower rural women by planting 30 million trees.

When British mountaineer Alison Hargreaves was killed in the Himalayas in 1995, reporting focused on her being a mother and wife. Historical newspaper records I found during my research roundly accused her of abandoning her primary role of caring for her children.

The Sunday Times called her “A mother obsessed”, while the Independent led with the headline, “Dangerous ambition of a woman on the peaks”. The Daily Telegraph headline read, “A wife driven to high challenges”. Readers’ letters were even more critical, branding her as selfish and irresponsible.

A novelty nail file

Women who have received neutral or positive coverage for their work have tended to have novelty value, or had accomplished a feat so extraordinary that their being a woman was part of the narrative.

The entomologist Evelyn Cheesman spent decades collecting insects on Pacific islands, from the Galapagos to New Guinea. Her work led to support for a biological dividing line between different ecosystems in the New Hebrides to be named Cheesman’s Line, and her contribution to science was a great novelty for the newspaper press.

Her months-long, arduous expedition to Papua New Guinea in the early 1930s earned her the headline in the now defunct UK News Chronicle, “Woman collects 42,000 insects”.

After Cheesman published her memoir in 1957, detailing four decades of exploration, the headline in the newspaper Reynolds News announced: “Woman trapped in giant spider’s web”. The sub-head simply statesd, “saved by her nail file”.

More broadly, my research disappointingly concludes that over 100 years on, women explorers and scientific fieldworkers are still represented as unusual or out of place in the wild. These media narratives are dangerous as they feed into social attitudes that put women at risk and cause them to change their behaviour outdoors by avoiding isolated places, especially beyond daylight hours, for example.

Studies show that women (and black and hispanic) hikers in the US are more afraid of being attacked by men than by bears or other wild animals. Women’s outdoor groups, and campaigners such as Woman with Altitude and the Tough Girl podcast are working hard to counter this narrative, encouraging women to enjoy the beauties and discoveries still to be made in the world’s most rugged and remote places.

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Sarah Lonsdale, Senior Lecturer in Journalism, City St George's, University of London

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Throughout my school years I had an exuberant, elderly piano teacher, Miss Hazel. She was one of five daughters (like me) and, like many young women of her generation, had never married her sweetheart because he did not return from the war.

Her unabashed gusto for life and infectious, positive outlook left an indelible impression upon me. So too did the memorable fact that Miss Hazel read Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice from beginning to end once every year.

As a younger girl I wondered about the ways Pride and Prejudice could be so important to a woman in her eighties that she would want to read it annually. Was it to do with Austen’s depiction of a family with five daughters, or to relive an endearing love story?

Since those years I have seen, more through lived experience than through academic study, just how deeply meaningful the reading of classic books, like Pride and Prejudice, can be.

I no longer simply read this book for Elizabeth Bennett’s love story, but for the finely crafted replication Austen gives us of human character, with all its flaws. Hers are imaginary yet imaginably real situations, all depicted with humour and a sensitively calibrated dose of sympathy for even the most unlikeable literary figures.

The clergyman Mr Collins, Elizabeth’s distant cousin and her rejected suitor, was always repellent for his obsequiousness but I see more readily now his self-serving nature cloaked in altruism. The haughty snobbery of Darcy’s aristocratic aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, hints at a deeper layer of sadness and fragility only rereading can illuminate.

Box-ticking and speed

When we’re at school or university we may read for speed. I remember managing my reading of Ann Radcliffe’s 432-page gothic romance The Romance of the Forest to work out how many pages per hour I would need to read across a weekend in order to finish the novel before my university tutorial. (It was an ungodly ratio and I don’t recall much of the novel.)

Or we may read for the tick-box exercise of writing for assessment requirements: accumulating knowledge of a novel’s original metaphors, descriptions that best capture a prescribed theme (“belonging” or “identity”), or of poetry by which we can demonstrate a grasp of innovative metre.

But how and why do we reread classic books, when we are not constrained by class plans or prescribed exam themes. And why should we?

‘Like a graft to a tree’

Rebecca Mead’s The Road to Middlemarch offers a compelling exploration of one writer’s five-yearly revisitation of George Eliot’s masterpiece, Middlemarch.

Mead first read the novel at school, and Eliot’s subtitle to the novel, “A Study of Provincial Life”, captured precisely what Mead was trying to escape at that time: provinciality.

Eliot’s central character, Dorothea Brooke, captivated Mead as an unconventional intellectual heroine yearning for a life of meaning and significance. Mead marked out important moments with a fluorescent pen, such as when the intellectual and spiritual inadequacies of Dorothea’s husband, Casaubon, dawn upon her. Mead writes, quoting Eliot:

‘Now when she looked steadily at her husband’s failure, still more at his possible consciousness of failure, she seemed to be looking along the one track where duty became tenderness […]’ These seemed like things worth holding on to. The book was reading me, as I was reading it.

This idea of books “reading us” can sound like an odd animism. But books can prompt us to reflect on our own lives, too. Eliot makes Middlemarch almost compulsory to reread later in life: the idealism of youth captures the young reader, while the novel’s humour becomes more sympathetic as we age. To reread a novel like Middlemarch is to trace the ways we too have experienced idealism turn to illusion, or have seen the restless pursuit of change turn to a retrospective gratitude and a recognition of grace.

Our ability to acknowledge new depths of meaning in our own lives and to recognise within ourselves a subtler sympathy for the lives of others can be articulated almost as precisely as lived experience itself. As Mead says, “There are books that grow with the reader as the reader grows, like a graft to a tree.”

Feeling for Lear

The same can be said of Shakespeare. As young readers, we won’t necessarily capture the full vision King Lear offers us of the tragicomic paradoxes sometimes presented by old age. The play depicts the loss of power and control over one’s life and decision-making, the tender fragility of family relationships when the care of aged parents is suddenly an urgent question and the madness that can prevail when an inheritance is at stake.

Some of these things might abstractly be understood when taught to us in the classroom, but they are far more powerfully seen when revisited after we have lived a little more of that imaginably real life ourselves.

As students we might have squirmed with discomfort at the literal blinding of Lear’s loyal subject the Earl of Gloucester (the horror of witnessing a visceral, grotesque injury).

But as we age it is the tragedy of moral blindness that lingers, making the final scene so extraordinarily moving: “Do you see this? Look on her. Look, her lips. Look there, look there,” Lear pleads, as if to say that Cordelia, lifeless in his arms, still breathes.

Does he really see her lips quiver? Does he really believe she lives? Is this some consolation with which he dies or is it delusion? Lear’s heart is broken. So is mine.

Each time I revisit this final scene, the grief of Lear as a father is profoundly felt, but my heart is broken even more so by his continuing blindness; his vision (what he thinks he sees) is desperate, untrue, and ultimately meaningless.

Sites of discovery

When we read we inhabit imaginary worlds and each time the reading can be different. Philip Davis, a professor of literature and psychology has written,

Rereading is important in checking and refreshing that sense of meaning, as the reader goes back and re-enters the precise language once again.

Davis points to an idea advanced by the novelist and philosopher Iris Murdoch, of the reader’s collection of special, memorable fragments, which serve as metaphors for the reader’s self-utterances, developed over time. These are “nascent sites for thinking and re-centring”.

This is a similar idea to the novelist and journalist Italo Calvino’s description in Why Read the Classics? of the way classic books “imprint themselves on our imagination as unforgettable” and “hide in the layers of memory disguised as the individual’s or the collective unconscious.”

Works of imaginative literature are not manuals for life, though they might along the way gift us with some wisdom; they are sites of discovery and rediscovery.

The classic works we are introduced to at school may establish such sites for thinking about ourselves and others, but it is in rereading them as we grow older that we can better see the ways we have grown as imaginative, moral beings.

Johanna Harris, Associate Professor, Literature, Western Civilisation Program, Australian Catholic University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

The question of how best to eliminate corruption has exercised the minds of philosophers as much as the practical drafters of legislation from Ancient Greek and Roman times.

Within the political sphere, the notion of “corruption” has fluctuated between broad and narrow conceptions.

The broad conception relates to the decay of institutions or of the stature of the individuals who comprise them. On the other hand, the narrow conception focuses on the abuse of public office for private gain.

There is also “grey corruption” – which involves questionable behaviour involving a breach of integrity standards that does not necessarily amount to criminal conduct.

This could include where a person has undue influence over a politician, such as by essentially buying that power through making large donations or hiring expensive lobbyists, particularly where it causes public officials to behave in corrupt ways.

However the notion is defined, it is clear the fight against corruption is one of the basic tasks of a liberal democracy, perhaps even of an effectively functioning civil society.

Corruption control is a pressing issue worldwide: the United Nations estimated the economic cost of corruption at 5% of global domestic product or $3.6 trillion annually.

Australia has had a number of major corruption scandals throughout its history. Corruption was rife in the colonial era, where wealthy landholders sought to influence parliamentarians with monetary bribes.

This has been followed by several major corruption scandals, such as the Fitzgerald inquiry, which revealed widespread police corruption involving illegal gambling and prostitution.

What are anti-corruption commissions?

Anti-corruption commissions are arguably the most significant tool developed in liberal democracies to fight corruption in recent times.

The first anti-corruption commission in Australia, the Independent Commission Against Corruption (ICAC), was established in New South Wales in 1988 by then premier Nick Greiner.

Infamously, a few years later, Greiner became the first premier to resign due to an ICAC investigation.

Over the next few decades, all states and territories have set up their own anti-corruption or integrity commissions.

In 2023, the Commonwealth followed suit with the introduction of the National Anti-Corruption Commission (NACC), a promise made by Anthony Albanese in the lead-up to the 2022 election after considerable pressure from the public and from within parliament.

As a result, Australia now has a comprehensive network of broad-based public sector anti-corruption agencies covering all levels of government – a significant development nationally and internationally.

Anti-corruption commissions are tasked with investigating serious and systemic corrupt conduct in government. This includes not just members of the House and Senate, but their staff and public servants.

In performing their functions, these commissions have strong coercive powers, equivalent to the powers of a royal commission. This includes the power to compel documents and witnesses.

Some anti-corruption commissions such as the NACC and NSW’s ICAC have the power to conduct public hearings if they believe it’s in the public interest. This increases transparency in government. But concerns have been expressed about reputational damage for those subject to investigations.

Anti-corruption commissions also have corruption prevention functions. They are tasked with educating the public about the detrimental effects of corruption on public administration.

Reports of anti-corruption commissions are often attended by significant media publicity, leading to public awareness of corruption in government.

Why are anti-corruption commissions needed?

It has become well accepted that effective anti-corruption institutions play an important role as institutions supporting constitutional democracy.

The state anti-corruption bodies have brought to light many indiscretions by politicians that would have otherwise remained hidden.

Without these commissions, corruption in the public sector can take root without us knowing about it. An anti-corruption agency is a powerful deterrent against improper behaviour.

Yet anti-corruption commissions tend to be unpopular within governments because they scrutinise government action. This means the a commission may expose improper conduct or corruption within their ranks.

It is common for governments hostile to anti-corruption commissions to attack them, including by reducing their powers or funding.

This is despite their integral role in our democracy. Alongside other oversight bodies such as the ombudsman (who investigates maladministration within government) and auditor-general (who performs audits of government expenditure), anti-corruption commissions form part of an intricate, interlocking integrity framework that monitors executive action.

Who watches the watchdogs?

A big question is about how we ensure anti-corruption commissions do not overstep their bounds. Given their broad coercive powers, how do we hold them to account?

From their inception, concerns have been expressed about the potential for anti-corruption bodies to infringe on civil liberties, and the possibility they may exceed or abuse their powers.

In Australia, anti-corruption commissions are subject to a strong system of accountability through parliaments and the courts. They report to dedicated parliamentary committees who scrutinise their actions and decisions. Complaints against anti-corruption commissions can be made to a dedicated inspectorate – an independent statutory officer who oversees their actions.

Anti-corruption commissions are also subject to judicial review by the courts to ensure they don’t exceed their legal boundaries. Court scrutiny occurs when a person investigated by an anti-corruption commission takes their grievance to court.

To be effective, anti-corruption commissions require strong powers and institutional independence. But this needs to be balanced with accountability and the protection of individual rights.

What is pork barrelling and what are some recent examples?

Pork barrelling involves governments channelling public funds to seats they hold or seats they would like to win from an opponent, as a way of winning voters’ favour. This means the money is used for political purposes, rather than proper allocation according to merit.

We have been inundated with pork barrelling scandals in recent years. This includes the car park rorts scandal, where 77% of the commuter car park sites selected were in electorates held by the then Coalition government, rather than in areas of real need with congestion issues.

This followed close on the heels of the “sports rorts” scandal. Minister Bridget McKenzie resigned from cabinet following allegations she had intervened in the sport grants program to benefit the Coalition government while in a position of conflict of interest.

My research has shown that pork barrelling is an intractable problem across multiple governments over many decades. It takes different forms based on electoral systems.

Australia has a single member electorate parliamentary system, which makes it more susceptible to pork barrelling than multi-member electorates such as Norway or Spain. The belief is that politicians who “bring home the bacon” for their constituents are electorally rewarded for doing so.

This means there are incentives for the central cabinet to strategically apportion benefits to marginal electorates to increase prospects of electoral success. There is also an incentive to bias the apportionment of funds towards the party in power.

In short, rorts scandals keep happening because governments believe that channelling money to marginal and government electorates will win them elections.

Potentially the NACC could investigate rorts scandals, but only where it amounts to serious or systemic corrupt conduct.

How do we fix the grants system?

At the federal level, we have sophisticated financial management legislation that provides a framework for grant rules. The Commonwealth grant rules provide a detailed set of guidelines that ministers and government officials must follow on grant application and selection processes.

However, there are significant loopholes in the rules. For example, the “car park rorts” scandal is not covered by these rules because it involves money being channelled through the states.

Also, there are no sanctions for breaching the rules. So ministers and government officials can break the rules without any repercussions.

To fix the system, we need to reform the rules about grants allocation and close the loopholes. We also need to impose punishment for breaching the rules.

It is imperative our grants administration system be reformed to ensure that taxpayer funds are protected from governmental abuse. If the ministerial discretion available in grants processes is improperly used, this can give rise to political favouritism and corruption.

How corrupt is Australia compared to other countries?

There is a public perception that a small elite is reaping large benefits in Australian society in terms of political influence and its flow-on dividends.

In Australia, the “game of mates” is flourishing. There’s now a revolving door in politics with many politicians, advisers and senior government officials leaving the public sector to become well-paid lobbyists.

Add to that the appointments of political “mates” to commissions, tribunals and cushy ambassadorships and the blatant misuse of parliamentary entitlements such as helicopter trips on taxpayer funds.

Political parties are also accepting millions of dollars in donations from lobbyists and others interested in influencing policy outcomes.

All of this adds to the perception that the system is rigged - and not in favour of the person on the street.

Australia has fallen steadily in Transparency International’s global corruption index, from 8th place in 2012 to 14th in 2024. But even so, Australia is the 14th-least corrupt country in the world, which is still a respectable ranking.

More alarming is the fact that one in 30 Australian public servants said in a survey last year they had seen a colleague acting in a corrupt manner.

The types of corruption witnessed included cronyism or nepotism (favourable treatment of friends or family members without proper regard to merit). Fraud, forgery, embezzlement and conflicts of interest were also reported.

In the 1980s, there were incidences of large-scale corruption that rocked the country, culminating in the Fitzgerald Inquiry in Queensland and the WA Inc Royal Commission in Western Australia. These scandals led to the resignations and imprisonments of various former ministers and officials.

Although we have not sunk to such depths since then, state anti-corruption commissions, such as the NSW ICAC, have uncovered various instances of corruption in recent years. The NSW ICAC’s inquiries have led to the resignations of several politicians, as well as the conviction of former Labor MP Eric Obeid.

Another classic case of corruption exposed by the ICAC led to the downfall of former Newcastle lord mayor, Jeff McCloy. McCloy famously bragged that politicians treated him like a “walking ATM” and admitted to giving two MPs envelopes of cash amounting to $10,000.

In Victoria, the Independent Broad-Based Anti-Corruption Commission’s (IBAC) revealed that a lobbyist funnelled suitcases of cash totalling more than $100,000 from a property developer to a councillor, under the guise of sham transactions.

These explosive scandals involving corrupt conduct by public officials have eroded public trust in politicians. But the exposure of these scandals by anti-corruption commissions have an important deterrent and educative effect on public officials and the broader public.

Our faith in government has been eroded by a lack of transparency and the perception that those in power are enjoying unfair benefits. The active investigations by robust institutions such as anti-corruption commissions will act as checks and balances on governmental power - and are key to a vibrant democracy.

This is an edited extract from How Australian Democracy Works, a new book from leading authors at The Conversation on all aspects of our political system and its history, out March 4.

Yee-Fui Ng, Associate Professor, Faculty of Law, Monash University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

In 218 BC, the Carthaginian general Hannibal crossed the Alps against the advice of his men, who claimed it was impossible. “Aut inveniam viam, aut faciam,” Hannibal is said to have replied: “I shall either find a way, or make one.”

Though apocryphal, Hannibal’s bold statement captures a trait much sought in the tech industry today: “high agency”. This means being able to positively influence yourself or the world around you.

Psychologists use a range of other terms to refer to this kind of trait — including perceived control, mastery, and efficacy. All of them boil down to being able to achieve the things you want, when you want.

Recognising agency

In the business world, the term high agency is used in much the same way as “disruptor”, “game-changer” and “self-starter” were before it. As you might expect from those comparisons, high agency is a catch-all phrase for people who see and take opportunities where others see roadblocks.

More than this, high agency describes a person who creates their own opportunities where there appear to be none.

High agency is beneficial in more than the professional sphere, however.

Research shows that feeling able to achieve important goals is a building block for motivation in most domains of life, including education, health and political action. This is because people who feel “in control” set higher goals, are more committed those goals, and exert greater effort to achieve those goals than people who feel “out of control”.

Agency differs by demographic, including factors such as age. Some research suggests people feel more in control of their life circumstances and outcomes in middle age than in old age.

Socioeconomic factors such as education, income and work history also play a role. Put simply, people who are “better off” feel more agentic.

Mental health seems to be both an outcome and a predictor of high agency. People who are less depressed feel more in control of their lives, and those who feel more in control are less depressed.

Rethinking agency

The concept of “high agency” is an amalgamation of, or an umbrella term for, a range of traits that psychologists have studied for decades. Related concepts include the prized “growth mindset” (the belief that one’s talents are developable rather than innate), “proactivity” (acting in advance of, rather than reacting to, situations), and the somewhat controversial “grit” (perseverance in the pursuit of long-term goals). Note, however, that some argue grit is just a rebranded version of the personality trait “conscientiousness”.

High agency, as the tech world sees it, appears to borrow from all these concepts, wrapped up in one convenient package. Agentic people are those who see possibility where others see barriers, take action rather than wait to be told what to do, and aren’t afraid to go after what they want.

These traits are also stereotypically associated with particular people in society: members of advantaged majority groups, such as men, those with high socioeconomic status, and white people.

In many ways, high-agency behaviour is an act of privilege. It involves trusting that others will react well to your efforts to try a new approach or disrupt the status quo.

The reality is that the way other people respond will depend at least in part on factors outside our control. This may be particularly true for less privileged people, who tend to see less opportunity to exert choice and influence the world due to the very real structural barriers they face. This means acting “high agency” may be a risk for some people: actions that see one person praised as a “game changer” could easily see another labelled a “troublemaker”.

Taken to an extreme, high agency could read as “alpha” – the kind of person who takes charge and is a natural leader. Alpha is a gendered term, most commonly applied with a suffix such as male, bro or dude.

The already male-dominated tech industry should be wary of baking gendered traits into personnel selection procedures. If high agency is understood to mean a certain type of person rather than just a type of personality, it could be a problem for equity, diversity and inclusion initiatives.

Realising agency

Given the rising value of high agency in professional settings – not to mention its personal emotional and motivational benefits – you might wonder how people can become more agentic.

Many proponents of high agency emphasise its value for looking at the world in a different way. So too it might be valuable to look at high agency in a different way: not what makes an individual agentic, but what are the conditions that allow agency to thrive.

Research shows that certain types of environments set people up for success. Environments that allow people to thrive are those that meet three basic psychological needs.

The first is the need for autonomy: the ability to freely choose what we do and when we do it. The second is the need for competence: the feeling of being capable of performing desired actions. Finally, there is the need for relatedness: the feeling of being connected to others.

These needs can be fostered by the work environment. (Google famously adopts similar motivational workplace practices.) People can also adapt themselves by “job crafting” to help create the conditions conducive to success.

While high agency may seem like an innate personality trait, emerging research suggests the people around us may be a powerful source of personal agency. People who are better able to influence their own outcomes are often those who can turn to, or recruit, others to help them achieve those outcomes.

Paradoxically, this means that “high agency” might not (just) be a quality of you personally, but a quality of the people around you.

Katharine H. Greenaway, Associate Professor, The University of Melbourne

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Bill Gates, cofounder of Microsoft, is one of the world’s richest men. He is also a highly controversial figure.

On one hand, he contributes to social, medical and environmental causes through his foundation, making grants worth more than US$77 billion ($A123 billion) from its inception to the end of 2023. On the other, he has confirmed associations with Jeffrey Epstein and was the subject of spurious COVID conspiracy theories.

Even Gates’ Microsoft days were controversial. Under his leadership, Microsoft became the first tech giant, but Gates has been repeatedly described as ruthless, both personally and professionally.

Review: Source Code, My Beginnings – Bill Gates (Penguin)

He was accused by his late long-term friend and business partner Paul Allen, of canvassing ways to dilute Allen’s shares in Microsoft when the latter was undergoing treatment for lymphoma. Gates reportedly apologised to Allen, and they repaired their relationship, and were on good terms by the time Allen died.

Still, as a leader, his style has been characterised by some who worked with him in the 1980s and 1990s as bullying. (Gates’ spokesperson has denied he mistreated employees.)

Childhood

In Source Code, Gates sets out to tell his own story, and the story of the birth of the tech industry.

His parents were the children of hardworking strugglers. His father, Bill Senior, was educated as a lawyer on the GI bill; his mother, Mary, was, according to Gates, an innovative and engaged homemaker, who later shattered glass ceilings.

Born in 1955 Gates describes himself as the kind of kid his mother had to warn his preschool teachers about. He responded to not knowing how to fit in with other kids by becoming a class clown, and was pushed by his mother to relate to other adults.