The number of “serious incidents” in Australian early childhood services – including long daycare – is increasing. According to a new Productivity Commission report, there were 160 such incidents per 100 services in 2024-25. This is up from 148 and 139 in the previous two years.

A serious incident is one that seriously compromises the health, safety or wellbeing of a child. This includes serious injury or illness requiring medical attention, any event where emergency services attended, a child going missing or being locked in or out of the premises. It can also include abuse or the death of a child.

The figures come amid continuing concern about safety in early childhood services around Australia. Last week, regulators reported a family daycare had been shut down after knives and poison were kept within reach of kids in Sydney; while in South Australia, the regulator warned of supervision “blind spots”.

Why are we seeing this increase? What does it mean for families and educators?

How do we get these figures?

Under the Education and Care Services National Regulations, services must report all serious incidents to the relevant state or territory regulatory authority.

So these Productivity Commission figures come via the national agency for childcare safety and quality (the Australian Children’s Education and Care Quality Authority).

In its most recent report in December 2025, the national agency reported an increase across almost every kind of serious incident. The most commonly reported incident type was “injury, illness, or trauma”, which accounted for 77.7% of serious incident reports.

Why aren’t we seeing a drop?

The latest figures predate the slew of recent child safety reforms across the sector. So it may take time for us to see a change in annual data reporting.

We also have numerous state and national inquiries still underway. And further reforms are yet to be implemented. This includes mandatory child safety and child protection training for all staff, volunteers, and students.

In fact, the increase is not a surprise. Data released by the national agency has shown a persistent increase in serious incident reports, which are currently up 62% from 2016-17 (the earliest available report on these figures). There have also been particularly marked increases over the last five years.

What is less clear is what is causing this increase and how to fix it.

Are people becoming more aware?

The latest rise may indicate the sector is becoming more transparent, as opposed to more dangerous.

With the recent increase in public scrutiny and subsequent policy changes around child safety – including shorter time frames for mandatory reporting and restrictions on the use of digital devices – services, educators, and even families may be more likely to report serious incidents when they occur.

If this is so, a stronger reporting culture would be a welcome outcome.

Or are services under stress?

On the other hand, Australian and international research shows safety risks increase when educators and services are operating under strain.

Our research shows staff in the early childhood sector face heavy workloads and unpaid hours. There are also longstanding concerns about increasing regulatory demands, high staff turnover and educator burnout.

What about management?

Research indicates management (or who is running a service) is a key factor when it comes to quality.

Although the national agency’s reports do not let us compare serious incident rates of for-profit versus not-for-profit services, for-profits tend to provide lower quality services for children, and have been less likely to improve their rating under the national quality framework.

On top of this, publicly available data from the third quarter of 2025 (the most recent we have), shows private for-profit services are more likely to be “working towards the national quality standard” on children’s health and safety than other early childhood provider types.

This is why the steady increase in large for-profit providers in Australia is a significant concern.

So is childcare safe or not?

Despite the awful revelations about abuse in the sector, the OECD notes that early childhood services are generally safer than un-regulated care. This includes care by relatives, babysitters or privately employed nannies. This is because services such as long daycare are regulated by a national quality framework and standards.

The difficulty is there is such variation in quality across the sector. Current regulatory systems also have significant gaps. For example, many services wait more than four years between assessment visits. In some states, time between visits can extend to ten years.

A 2025 independent report found several NSW services were on a secret government list as “very high risk” but were publicly rated as “meeting” national quality standards.

As of November 2025, families can now access new content on the Starting Blocks website to check the compliance history of their service. This includes when a service was last visited by a regulatory authority, and any formal breach notifications over the last two years.

Will the recent and upcoming reforms be enough?

The current debate about safety and quality are still largely reactive and risks-based. For example, shutting down unsafe providers and training educators to spot potential abuse.

We need more focus on the broader factors – such as educator working conditions, workforce quality and management capability – which research shows will lift quality and boost safety overall.

If services have well-trained staff and supportive working conditions, they are more likely to provide both safety and quality for children.

Erin Harper, Lecturer, School of Education and Social Work, University of Sydney

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

Research shows gender-based violence in sport is widespread: between a quarter and three-quarters of women within sport report experiencing some form of psychological, physical or sexual violence during their sporting lives.

These experiences happen across all levels of sport and affect not only athletes but also coaches, officials, volunteers and administrators.

And too often, when those affected try to speak up, systems fail them.

Our research team recently examined how reports of gender-based violence in sport are currently experienced and managed.

Based on what we found, we designed a new resource to help sporting organisations handle issues that arise and support victims.

What is gender-based violence in sport?

Gender-based violence can include sexist jokes, humiliation, exclusion from leadership roles, coercive coaching practices, sexual harassment and assault.

These behaviours are often normalised or minimised in sport but their impact is serious: women leave sport, their health is affected, teams dissolve, talent is lost and trust in sporting institutions is eroded.

What our research found

We examined how reports of gender-based violence in sport are currently managed.

We reviewed policies, interviewed women and gender-diverse people who had disclosed gender-based violence in sport, and also interviewed people working in national and state sport integrity and safeguarding roles.

We found policies related to violence in sport to be legalistic, inaccessible and almost entirely gender-blind.

Women and gender-diverse participants shared uncertainty about who to approach, what the process would entail and whether they would be believed.

Some felt re-traumatised by systems meant to support them. One woman told us:

[the sport] never followed any of their own written processes around safety and supporting us. They made promises and then actively went against them. They pretty much gaslit us the whole way.

The people we interviewed said they stayed engaged when listened to, believed and offered choices. When dismissed or blamed, many left – not just the organisation, but sport.

A clear message emerged from those working in integrity and safeguarding roles: many want to do the right thing but are often constrained by unclear policies, limited guidance and support and a lack of training.

They described feeling overwhelmed, unsure of what steps to take and concerned about their organisation’s reputation or getting it wrong.

One person working in integrity and safeguarding roles said:

I’ll be quite candid with you […] they’re protecting the business. They’re not protecting the member.

Another sad:

One time I got one [a report] and I had to run out the door here to throw up. It was just so terrible.

Where current systems fall short

In Australia, Sport Integrity Australia responds to breaches of integrity through the National Integrity Framework and its complaints handling system.

But our research shows when it comes to gender-based violence against adults, significant gaps remain.

While Sport Integrity Australia’s suite of policies include the “safeguarding of children and young people” there is no equivalent for adults.

Also, Sport Integrity Australia can only implement its policies with sports that signed up to its national framework, and only if the issue being reported occurred after the sport signed up.

This means in many cases, gender-based violence against an adult will fall outside of its policies.

In these cases, responsibility falls back to sporting organisations – many of which are under-resourced, unclear about their role or ill-prepared to respond.

For women and gender-diverse people, this often results in confusion, inadequate or inconsistent responses and an increased risk of ongoing harm.

In the absence of sufficient national policy, sport organisations must therefore be better prepared to respond to and address gender-based violence, from the grassroots to elite levels.

Why disclosures so often go wrong

Our research shows reports of gendered violence go wrong not because people don’t care but because systems are not designed with victim-survivors in mind.

Policies are frequently written to protect organisations rather than support those who experience harm.

Reporting pathways mimic legal and criminal justice pathways rather than trauma-informed practices.

Power imbalances – between athletes and coaches, volunteers and boards, players and administrators – are not acknowledged or addressed.

At the same time, those tasked with responding are often unsupported.

Integrity managers, volunteers and administrators told us they regularly absorb traumatic stories without adequate supervision or specialist support and without the ability to address the root causes of the issue. This increases the risk of burnout and turnover.

A practical roadmap for safer responses

In response we developed a practical, evidence-based toolkit designed to help sporting organisations at every level respond better when gender-based violence is reported.

This new guide translates research and best-practice principles from health, trauma and violence-prevention sectors into the sport context in ways that are easy to understand and implement.

It sets out five core principles for good responses:

• making reporting easy

• having clear and fair policies

• supporting choice and autonomy

• responding with care and respect

• committing to ongoing improvement.

It provides concrete tools such as scripts for responding to disclosures, checklists for organisational readiness and a clear roadmap outlining what a good response looks like from first disclosure through to follow-up and review.

Kirsty Forsdike, Principal Research Fellow and Associate Professor, La Trobe Rural Health School, La Trobe University; Aurélie Pankowiak, Research Fellow, Institute for Health and Sport, Victoria University; Mary Woessner, Associate professor, Victoria University; Natalie Galea, Senior Research Fellow, University of Sydney, and Samantha Marshall, PhD Candidate, La Trobe University

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

Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi has delivered her Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) a landslide victory in the parliamentary elections she called shortly after taking office.

Now that she has consolidated her power in Japan’s legislature (called the Diet), the big question is what she will do with it.

Since her ascent to the prime ministership in a parliamentary vote in October, the ultra conservative Takaichi has upended the normally staid Japanese political system.

She has connected with younger voters like no other Japanese leader in recent history with her savvy social media presence, iconic fashion sense and diplomatic flair. (In a literal rock-star moment, she showed off her drumming skills in a jam session with South Korea’s leader.)

Takaichi has cannily taken advantage of the honeymoon phase of her leadership by calling a snap election to gain more power in the Diet before there’s a dip in her popularity.

However, voters will now expect to see a return on their investment, and Takaichi faces the much more daunting task of delivering on her promises. Improving living standards in a country with a rapidly shrinking workforce and ageing population without mass immigration will test her political skills much more than winning an election.

An unlikely election victory

Although Takaichi’s LDP has been in government for most of Japan’s post-war history, it has recently experienced a string of poor election results.

In 2024, it lost the lower house majority it held with its then-coalition partner, Komeito, after a series of corruption scandals. Then, last year, the coalition lost its majority in the upper house, leaving the government hanging by a thread.

The party began its remarkable turnaround following then-Prime Minister Shigeru Ishiba’s resignation in September in the wake of those electoral setbacks.

Many pre-election polls predicted a sizeable victory for the LDP and its new coalition partner, Nippon Ishin (the Japan Innovation Party). Takaichi also received a boost with an endorsement from US President Donald Trump. Although the Japanese public views Trump unfavourably, they also know the US is their ultimate security guarantor against China, in addition to Japan’s largest export destination.

Nevertheless, there were some doubts about whether Takaichi’s popularity, particularly among younger voters, would translate into votes.

In the end, her electoral gold dust rubbed off on the rest of her party. Despite freezing temperatures and record snow in places, the LDP has been comfortably returned to office with a vastly increased majority in the lower house. The coalition now has a two-thirds super-majority, which means she can override the upper house to push through her legislative agenda.

A more assertive posture on China?

Since becoming prime minister, the hawkish Takaichi has taken an assertive position towards China.

In November, she angered Beijing by saying Japan could intervene militarily to help protect Taiwan in the face of a potential Chinese invasion. This resulted in vicious Chinese attacks on Takaichi that continued into the new year.

While the Japanese public is divided over whether to come to Taiwan’s aid in any conflict with China, there is now strong support for Takaichi’s pledge to increase the defence budget to 2% of GDP by this March, two years ahead of schedule.

In December, the Cabinet approved a 9.4% increase in defence spending to achieve this objective, focusing on domestic production and advanced capabilities (cyber, space, long-range strikes).

In response to rising threats from China, North Korea and Russia, Takaichi’s government also plans to revise Japan’s core security and defence strategies this year.

Economic woes front and centre

As much as defence matters, Takaichi will ultimately be judged by the public when it comes to economic policy.

The public is increasingly concerned about rising inflation and stagnant wages leading to falling living standards.

A vivid illustration of this: the price of rice has doubled since 2024, hitting a new high last month. Public anger over rising rice prices even brought down the farm minister last year.

Inflation has been above the Bank of Japan’s 2% target for 45 straight months. And though nominal wages have recently picked up, real incomes have been decreasing for the last four years.

Takaichi has made tackling the cost of living a priority. She has vowed to suspend Japan’s 8% food tax for two years. And last year, her government announced a massive US$135 billion (A$192 billion) stimulus package, including subsidies for electricity and gas bills.

However, these policies will increase the government’s budget deficit, adding to the country’s already sky-high public debt levels.

And last month, Japanese government bond prices collapsed after Takaichi called the election, with the markets predicting a LDP win would result in looser fiscal policy and higher government debt.

The Bank of Japan is unlikely to intervene to support the bond market in any future crisis, which will leave the government with higher borrowing costs, further increasing public debt.

Japan also faces enormous challenges related to its shrinking population and workforce.

It is too early to know whether Takaichi has the answers to these challenges. But she now has the power, authority and freedom to boldly pursue her policy agenda. Now she will need to deliver the kind of change the electorate expects.

Adam Simpson, Senior Lecturer in International Studies in the School of Society and Culture, Adelaide University

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

Tyres stick to hot asphalt as I drive the Stuart Highway from Alice Springs northward, leaving the MacDonnell Ranges behind. My destination is the Warramunga facility, about 500 kilometres north – a remote monitoring station I’ve directed for the Australian National University for nearly 19 years, and one of the most sensitive nuclear detection facilities on Earth.

When I started exploring Earth’s inner core in 1997, I had no idea my calling would lead me here, or that I’d spend years driving this highway through the red expanse of the Australian outback.

And today, as the New START treaty curbing the US and Russian nuclear weapons programs expires, the work we do in the red centre has become more important than ever before.

A giant telescope pointed at Earth’s centre

Located 37km southeast of Tennant Creek – or Jurnkkurakurr, as it’s known in the local Warumungu language – Warramunga consists of what might generously be called a demountable building, surrounded by sensors lined up across 20km of savannah, covered by red soil and long, white spinifex grass.

The facility operates two sophisticated arrays. One consists of 24 seismometers detecting vibrations through Earth, the other eight infrasound sensors picking up ultra-low-frequency sound waves inaudible to human ears.

When North Korea detonated its largest nuclear device in September 2017 – about 7,000km away – our instruments captured it clearly. Warramunga detected all six of North Korea’s declared nuclear tests, and our data was among the first to reach the International Data Centre in Vienna.

The geological stability and remoteness mean we detect events that might be masked elsewhere. When a wild brumby gallops past our sensors, we pick it up. When a nuclear bomb is tested on the other side of the world, we definitely know about it. We can distinguish it from an earthquake because of the different kinds of vibrations it produces.

Warramunga detects more seismic events than any other station in the global network. With multiple instruments in a carefully designed configuration, far from the coast and human activity, you have something like a giant telescope pointed at the centre of Earth.

An unusual partnership

Warramunga’s story began in 1965 when Australia and the United Kingdom jointly established it for nuclear test detection during the Cold War. In 1999, it was upgraded and later certified as a primary station in the Comprehensive Nuclear-Test-Ban Treaty Organization’s International Monitoring System.

The CTBTO, headquartered in Vienna, operates a global network of more than 300 facilities designed to detect any nuclear explosion anywhere on Earth. Australia hosts 21 of these facilities – the third-largest number globally.

But Warramunga is unique. It’s operated by a university on behalf of both the CTBTO and the Australian government, located on Warumungu Country. The location of sensors was determined in consultation with Traditional Owners to ensure the instruments would not interfere with sacred sites.

The Research School of Earth Sciences at the Australian National University in Canberra has managed Warramunga for more than 50 years, and we still do.

Life at the station

The station requires constant attention. Two dedicated technicians drive from Tennant Creek to the array each morning. By the time they arrive, the Sun is already high above the red land across which the array’s elements and termite mounds are spread.

They keep a careful watch on the world’s earthquakes and explosions, enduring extreme heat, dust, flies, fires, floods, thunderstorms and the occasional visit from wildlife. They ensure data flows continuously via satellite to Vienna.

After one infrastructure reconstruction, we found two large goannas wrapped around a seismometer, having decided to spend their nights in the firm embrace of our equipment. You don’t learn about this kind of challenge in Vienna’s United Nations offices.

From Canberra, I coordinate between the on-site team, the Australian government, and our partners at the CTBTO. At least once a year, I make the drive up the Stuart Highway to Warramunga, checking equipment and discussing challenges with the technicians.

I also meet regularly with colleagues at the United Nations in Vienna. Managing this facility means bridging two worlds: the practical realities of maintaining sensitive equipment in a harsh environment and the international diplomacy of nuclear verification.

Why it matters now

For more than 30 years, the world has observed a de facto moratorium on nuclear explosive testing. The last US test was in 1992. Russia’s was in 1990.

This norm has been crucial in limiting nuclear weapons development. Verification systems such as Warramunga make this possible, because would-be violators know any significant nuclear explosion will be detected.

But this system faces its greatest challenge in decades. In October 2025, President Donald Trump announced the United States would begin testing nuclear weapons “on an equal basis” with Russia and China.

Days later, President Vladimir Putin directed Russian officials to prepare for possible nuclear tests. If this moratorium collapses, it opens the door to a new era of nuclear arms racing.

This is when verification becomes most crucial. The CTBTO’s network doesn’t just detect violations – its existence deters them. If the world knows a country has carried out a nuclear test and tried (but failed) to hide it, the testing country will face political consequences.

A hidden contribution

Warramunga’s data also helps researchers understand earthquakes, study Earth’s deep interior, such as the solid inner core, and track phenomena from meteorite impacts to Morning Glory clouds – extraordinary atmospheric waves travelling 1,400km from Cape York, first scientifically documented with Warramunga’s infrasonic array in the 1970s.

What strikes me after nearly two decades is how this unique partnership represents a remarkable example of academic institutions contributing directly to global security.

Few people realise that a university research school operates one of the world’s most crucial nuclear verification facilities. It’s an arrangement that brings together fundamental scientific research with practical obligations under international treaties – a model for how researchers can engage with pressing global challenges.

As nuclear rhetoric intensifies globally, the quiet technical work in the Australian outback gains new significance. Nuclear test monitoring is essential to deter would-be nuclear nations – and that’s a mission worth maintaining, even from the remote red centre of Australia.

Hrvoje Tkalčić, Professor, Head of Geophysics, Director of Warramunga Array, Australian National University

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

News the world’s first independent health promotion agency – Australia’s own VicHealth – is to be abolished has been called “incomprehensible” and “a disaster” that places democracy at risk.

VicHealth is the agency that’s been behind successful quit smoking and skin cancer campaigns, among others.

Then came the push – including from experts in public health, and political parties – to save the almost-40 year-old agency.

The Victorian government has said absorbing VicHealth into the state’s health department is needed to help repair the budget. But, from an economic perspective, this looks like a bad call.

We receive funding from VicHealth, or have done so in the past.

Here’s why health promotion is worth more than every dollar invested.

Prevention is better than cure

Health promotion involves empowering people and communities to make healthier choices and create supportive environments. It aims to address the broad drivers of health, reduce inequities and improve overall wellbeing. One key aim is to prevent disease from arising in the first place.

In Australia, more than one-third of our total disease burden is preventable. Modifiable risk factors such as overweight and obesity, tobacco use and poor diets cost the health system A$38 billion dollars each year.

Preventable chronic (long-term) illness also reduces workforce productivity. This creates a substantial economic burden well beyond health.

Given these health and economic costs, there’s a strong case for governments to invest more in preventing disease.

This is already recognised in the National Preventive Health Strategy 2021–2030, which recommends increasing spending on health promotion and disease prevention to 5% of the health budget. Currently it accounts for less than 2%.

There is clear evidence prevention can deliver a strong return on investment.

For example, we analysed 16 obesity prevention initiatives and found 11 policies would likely deliver substantial health gains while also saving long-term health-care costs.

Such policies include sugary drink taxes and restrictions on marketing of unhealthy foods.

Broader research shows health promotion initiatives demonstrate returns of around $2.20 for every dollar spent.

Back to VicHealth

VicHealth was initially funded through tobacco tax revenue. It started out with a focus on reducing smoking rates, and famously bought out tobacco sponsorship in sports and the arts.

Over the years, the agency has funded landmark prevention efforts such as Quit and SunSmart. More recently, it has partnered with communities and organisations to also address unhealthy diets, physical inactivity and alcohol use.

Today, VicHealth takes a broader perspective to health promotion. This approach recognises that individual risk factors are shaped by the commercial and economic systems in which we live. The focus is on health and equity being prioritised alongside economic prosperity.

Evaluations of programs that were initially supported by VicHealth clearly demonstrate the agency’s value. For example, Quitline in Victoria produces a return of $1.24 for every dollar spent (calculated from values in this economic evaluation).

Victorian investment in SunSmart has achieved a return of $2.22 per dollar. When productivity was taken into account, the SunSmart program was estimated to prevent $713 million in productivity losses in 1988–2011.

The scale of the potential benefits of VicHealth supported initiatives outweighs its relatively modest annual budget of about $47 million.

It can take time for prevention efforts to pay off

Despite the great potential for prevention initiatives to improve health and save money, Australian governments have consistently under-invested in them.

One big reason comes down to timing of costs and benefits. Prevention requires upfront investment while the benefits may only be realised many years later.

One study estimated an initial investment of $1.2 billion (inflated to 2024 values) and total spending of $7.6 billion would be required to implement 23 of the most cost-effective prevention initiatives.

These initiatives included a wide range of measures such as cancer screening programs, vaccinations and education campaigns.

Importantly, the study showed these interventions could avoid over $19 billion (in 2024 values) in health-care spending.

Short-term budget cycles can make it hard for government to commit to these high-value interventions.

This is a key reason why independent health promotion agencies, such as VicHealth, are typically better placed to ensure sustained and stable funding for programs and initiatives that deliver longer-term health and economic returns.

Disease prevention is political, and goes beyond health

Australian governments have previously made bold attempts at investing in prevention.

The Australian National Preventive Health Agency was established to oversee an $872 million investment to address modifiable risk factors for disease. However, a change in government more than a decade ago resulted in the withdrawal of this funding and dismantling of the agency.

So we need an independent body that operates at arms length to government if we are to focus on best practice prevention initiatives, without the impact of changes in governments and their shifting priorities.

The Victorian government has proposed to integrate VicHealth’s prevention activities within the state’s health department. But many prevention initiatives operate outside the health sector.

For example, school-based initiatives and community-led campaigns typically include involvement from multiple government departments, local councils, as well as community and commercial organisations.

So an independent health promotion agency, such as VicHealth, is ideally placed to lead these collaborations across sectors.

The urgent need to focus on prevention

Australia’s spending on health and aged care is set to soar, rising from 6.2% of GDP in 2022–23 to 10.8% by 2062–63.

The Productivity Commission has flagged the fiscal pressures this will create. Among its recommendations are supporting disease prevention and early intervention, with an independent advisory board and a dedicated prevention fund.

At a time when independent, well-funded prevention efforts are being recommended, disinvesting a world-leading health promotion agency makes little economic sense.

Jaithri Ananthapavan, Associate Professor in Health Economics, Deakin University; Gary Sacks, Professor of Public Health Policy, Deakin University, and Vicki Brown, Research Fellow, Deakin Health Economics, Deakin University

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

Some of us remember having more energy in our 20s. We could work late, sleep badly, have a night out, recover quickly and still feel capable the next day. By our 40s, that ease has often gone. Fatigue feels harder to shake. It’s tempting to assume this is simply the ageing process – a one‑way decline.

The truth is that the 40s are often the most exhausting decade, not because we are old, but because several small biological changes converge at exactly the same time that life’s demands often peak. Crucially, and optimistically, there is no reason to assume that energy must continue to decline in the same way into our 60s.

Energetic 20s

In early adulthood, multiple systems peak together.

Muscle mass is at its highest, even without deliberate training. As a metabolically active tissue, muscle helps regulate blood sugar and reduces the effort required for everyday tasks. Research shows that skeletal muscle is metabolically active even at rest and contributes substantially to basal metabolic rate (the energy your body uses just to keep you alive when you’re at rest). When you have more muscle, everything costs less energy.

At the cellular level, mitochondria – the structures that convert food into usable energy – are more numerous and more efficient. They produce energy with less waste and less inflammatory byproduct.

Sleep, too, is deeper. Even when sleep is shortened, the brain produces more slow‑wave sleep, the phase most strongly linked to physical restoration.

Hormonal rhythms are also more stable. Cortisol, often described as the body’s stress hormone, melatonin, growth hormone and sex hormones follow predictable daily patterns, making energy more reliable across the day.

Put simply, energy in your 20s is abundant and forgiving. You can mistreat it and still get away with it.

Exhausting 40s

By midlife, none of these systems has collapsed, but small shifts start to matter.

Muscle mass begins to decline from the late 30s onwards unless you exercise to maintain it. This in itself is a top tip – do strength training. The loss of muscle is gradual, but its effects are not. Less muscle means everyday movement costs more energy, even if you don’t consciously notice it.

Mitochondria still produce energy, but less efficiently. In your 20s, poor sleep or stress could be buffered. In your 40s, inefficiency is exposed. Recovery becomes more “expensive”.

Sleep also changes. Many people still get enough hours, but sleep fragments. Less deep sleep means less repair. Fatigue feels cumulative rather than episodic.

Hormones don’t disappear in midlife – they fluctuate, particularly in women. Variability, not deficiency, disrupts temperature regulation, sleep timing and energy rhythms. The body copes better with low levels than with unpredictable ones.

Then there is the brain. Midlife is a period of maximum cognitive and emotional load: leadership, responsibility, vigilance and caring roles. The prefrontal cortex – responsible for planning, making decisions and inhibition – works harder for the same output. Mental multitasking drains energy as effectively as physical labour.

This is why the 40s feel so punishing. Biological efficiency is beginning to shift at exactly the moment when demand is highest.

Hopeful 60s

Later life is often imagined as a continuation of midlife decline; however, many people report something different.

Hormonal systems often stabilise after periods of transition. Life roles may simplify. Cognitive load can reduce. Experience replaces constant active decision‑making.

Sleep doesn’t automatically worsen with age. When stress is lower and routines are protected, sleep efficiency can improve – even if total sleep time is shorter.

Crucially, muscle and mitochondria still adapt surprisingly well into later life. Strength training in people in their 60s, 70s and beyond can restore strength, improve metabolic health and increase subjective energy within months.

This doesn’t mean later life brings boundless energy, but it often brings something else: predictability.

Good news?

Across adulthood, energy shifts in character rather than simply declining. The mistake we make is assuming that feeling tired in midlife reflects a personal failing, or that it marks the start of an unavoidable decline. Anatomically, it is neither.

Midlife fatigue is best understood as a mismatch between biology and demand: small shifts in efficiency occurring at precisely the point when cognitive, emotional and practical loads are at their highest.

The hopeful message is not that we can reclaim our 20-year-old selves. Rather, it is that energy in later life remains highly modifiable, and that the exhaustion so characteristic of the 40s is not the endpoint of the story. Fatigue at this stage is not a warning of inevitable decline; it is a signal that the rules have changed.

Michelle Spear, Professor of Anatomy, University of Bristol

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

The number of young people in Australia prescribed medication for attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) increased more that tenfold in 20 years, our new research shows, while it is no longer most prevalent in poorer areas.

Children living in the lowest socioeconomic postcodes used to have the highest rates of ADHD prescriptions. But this has flipped, with kids from wealthier families now most likely to be prescribed.

So does this mean ADHD prescription depends on how much your parents earn?

Not quite. Overall, the variation in prescription levels has narrowed around the national average over the last 20 years. But there is a stark difference between the most and least wealthy postcodes.

What is ADHD?

ADHD is the most commonly diagnosed disorder among Australian children. While symptoms vary from person to person, it’s associated with hyperactive and/or inattentive behaviours that cause challenges at home, school or work.

The most common approved treatment for ADHD is psychostimulant drugs.

What we studied

Our research team went back through two decades of national data from 2003 to 2022. We looked at official prescription records from Australia’s Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme (PBS), which subsidises medication.

We wanted to find out how prescription rates change and differ between states and territories. We also wanted to know whether living in a wealthy or disadvantaged postcode plays a role in accessing prescription.

To look at ADHD prescriptions by postcode, we used an established way of comparing postcodes by calculating something called a “standardised medication ratio”.

If a postcode had the national average rate of prescriptions, its score was 1.0. Higher than one means more prescriptions than average, lower means fewer.

What we found

Between 2003 and 2022, the number of children aged 5–17 on ADHD medication increased from 20,147 people (0.5% of the youth population) in 2003 to 246,021 young people (or 4.2%) in 2022.

The biggest jump was in 2020 and 2021 during the COVID pandemic, when prescriptions spiked, especially for older teens (15–17 years), up by 2.1 percentage points from 3.1% in 2020 to 5.2% in 2022.

Lockdowns seem to have pushed more families to get help or at least start paying more attention to neurodivergence and learning issues.

Back in the 1990s, your chances of getting ADHD medication really depended on where you lived or how much your parents earned.

Some states, such as Queensland and Western Australia, were prescribing more than others. As our data shows, rates were higher still in Western Australia and Tasmania in 2003.

When standardising for populations (adjusting for the number of children living in a postcode), we can see how this trend varied by state and territory over the 20 years.

Over time the differences have narrowed.

This suggests clinicians are becoming more consistent in how they diagnose and treat ADHD. This is largely the result of the efforts to standardise best practices across the nation and remove the big variations of 20 years ago.

As some states and territories expand prescription to GPs, robust training and standardisation will be vital to avoid some of the past inconsistencies.

So how does wealth come into it?

For a long time in Australia, it was the kids in the most disadvantaged areas who were more likely to be prescribed ADHD medications.

This may have been because behaviour symptoms can stand out more when schools and families have fewer resources to manage them.

But this pattern has flipped. These days, it’s the wealthiest postcodes – the top 10% – where kids are most likely to be prescribed medication.

In 2003, richer areas were least likely to have kids medicated for ADHD, with a ratio of 0.612 (remembering that 1.000 is the national standard). By 2021, they’d climbed all the way to the top with a ratio of 1.245.

At the time, seven of ten deciles had ratios between 0.948 and 1.039, while the lowest 10% of postcodes had a ratio of 0.708.

Why the switch?

It probably has a lot to do with access. Twenty years ago, we did not see today’s level of demand and the health system could largely cover the demand.

Now, getting a diagnosis can take multiple specialist appointments, psychological assessments and possibly months on a waiting list. The poorest families might face longer waits or may not pursue diagnosis and medication at all if it feels out of reach.

However this data shows that, on average, most postcodes now sit close to the national average. So, it’s only the very top and very bottom income groups that have flipped in twenty years.

The limits of the data

It’s important to note a few caveats. The data only includes prescriptions filled in the PBS system. That means prescriptions from the private medical system are not included, which means the trend in the highest postcodes may be even higher.

The study also couldn’t look at the influence of culture or ethnicity, since the data was anonymous.

And while stimulants are mainly prescribed for ADHD, a tiny number are used to treat other conditions (such as narcolepsy).

Diagnostic guidelines have shifted over the years, most notably when guidelines changed to allow diagnosis of ADHD and autism in 2013, but this did not result in a notable jump in prescriptions in our study.

The real growth came steadily over time, then sped up around COVID since 2020.

Importantly, the study didn’t look at how many repeat prescriptions were taken each year or compare individual postcodes to the national rate, so it does not speak to whether ADHD is being overdiagnosed or overmedicated in some postcodes.

What does it all mean?

Our findings show more people are accepting ADHD and getting help. This points to better acceptance of neurodivergence, more consistent care, and a society trying help all its kids thrive in new and changing times.

More standardised practices and consistent care means we’re moving away from the “postcode lottery” effect, where treatment depends too heavily on where you live.

However, the flip in highest diagnosis ratios from the poorest postcodes to the richest means we still need to look closely at access and equity of treatment.

Brenton Prosser, Partner, Government & Public Sector, Providence / Honorary Fellow, Australian National University and Yogi Vidyattama, Associate Professor, Faculty of Business, Government and Law, University of Canberra

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

The police role as a “thin blue line” between public order and chaos was tested in Sydney’s CBD on Monday night.

Videos have captured the violent clashes between police and some of the thousands of protesters who gathered at the Town Hall to protest the presence of Israeli President Isaac Herzog in Australia.

One video shows a police officer repeatedly punching a man lying prone on the street, his hands pinned behind him.

New South Wales Premier Chris Minns has defended the actions of the police in Sydney, saying they faced an “impossible situation”.

No doubt, there will be investigations into the legality and reasonableness of the police response. But what’s also needed to prevent a repeat of Monday’s violence is a rethink of police training and protocols in NSW that are explicitly based on a respect for human rights, or what policing scholars call “human rights policing”.

‘Major event’ declaration

The NSW government declared Herzog’s visit to be a “major event” under state law. This gave police sweeping powers to issue move-on orders, close specific locations and search people in a designated area of the city. Essentially, it created a protest exclusion zone.

These laws, which exist in many jurisdictions, are typically used to ensure public order during major political and sporting events, such as Queensland’s prototype Major Events Act enacted before the 2014 G20 summit in Brisbane and the 2018 Commonwealth Games on the Gold Coast.

While these acts restrict otherwise lawful peaceful protests, they are limited in both time and place.

In Sydney, the NSW Supreme Court rejected a challenge to the government declaration just minutes before Monday’s protest was due to take place.

This suggested that, in the eyes of the state government and the court, public order and safety outweighed the rights of protesters, in this instance, to march through the CBD as they wished.

But the expanded legal powers of the police in these situations do not render declared public spaces “human rights-free zones”.

And public order was clearly not maintained in Sydney since the situation at Town Hall quickly devolved into violence.

So what went wrong? And how does policing need to change?

How policing in these situations can work

Policing is especially challenging in cases where two or more opposing groups seek to exercise the same rights to protest in the same public space, or the location or size of a protest raises concerns about public safety or potentially interferes with other lawful rights.

The G20 summit and Commonwealth Games in Queensland, both of which took place without significant incidents of disorder, show how this can be successfully done. These events provide a model for human rights policing – what worked well, and why.

My international review of policing the G20 summit and other major events a decade ago, conducted with two leading policing scholars, David Baker and Philip Stenning, was based on extensive empirical research. It identified several important lessons:

1) Police play a key role in upholding human rights. Balancing competing interests requires respectful dialogue between police and protest organisers and other affected community stakeholders before an event takes place

2) Framing police powers expressly within a statutory human rights framework is desirable. However, Queensland police’s own policies, practices and training were key to upholding human rights. As the public safety policy manual stated:

When possible, police will attempt to negotiate with all groups wanting to march or to use a particular space. In managing the use of public space, police will be impartial, and will use their discretion to facilitate the lawful activities of all parties

3) Policing protests also benefits from the presence of independent legal observers. They can assist in clarifying the rights and responsibilities of protesters, and help de-escalate tense situations.

Senior police officials said there had been discussions with the Palestine Action Group before Monday’s protest, in which they encouraged protesters to move to Hyde Park outside the exclusion zone.

However, there is always a risk that dialogue between police and protest organisers ahead of a demonstration does not work as planned. There can be miscommunication, mistrust and unexpected departures from agreed plans and protocol.

Large protests also attract diverse groups of people that organisers have no control over, including those who willingly engage in violent confrontations with police or opposing groups.

That said, allowing time for proper dialogue with protest organisers and community representatives can help anticipate potential flashpoints and identify the points when police will have to intervene. This dialogue can generate better understanding of:

• when police give protesters a reasonable direction to disperse from an area

• what constitutes a “reasonable time” to leave that area

• what legal steps (arrest and removal) might be taken by police against those who refuse to comply

• the range of “reasonable force” police will use to disperse crowds or arrest those who don’t comply.

Reasonable force generally depends on the situation. Above all, physical force and deployment of pepper spray must be consistent with police training and policies, and as with any coercive powers, should be used as a matter of last resort.

What needs to be done?

Proportionate and accountable policing needs to be founded in a respect for human rights to the maximum extent possible.

But it’s also important to note that human rights are rarely absolute. As a result, a person’s freedom to protest may legitimately be restricted in the interest of public safety and to safeguard the rights of others (such as using or moving freely in public spaces).

So, is human rights policing, then, practical or realistic?

NSW policymakers should examine how policing practice has changed in jurisdictions that have enacted human rights legislation (notably the United Kingdom, ACT, Victoria and Queensland).

These laws delineate when and how people’s rights to engage in peaceful public protest should be protected, and when and how far they can be restricted on public safety grounds.

The NSW government should also prioritise a reconsideration of the Human Rights Bill introduced to parliament late last year.

And learning lessons from the policing of major events in Queensland a decade ago would help move towards a more robust model of human rights policing and prevent a repeat of Monday’s violent disorder.

Simon Bronitt, Professor of Law, University of Sydney

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

The NSW Supreme Court has dismissed a challenge to the extraordinary powers given to police to disrupt protests against Israeli President Isaac Herzog’s visit to Sydney this week.

The decision was handed down late Monday, minutes before a planned protest was scheduled to start through Sydney’s central business district, from Town Hall to Parliament.

Given the urgency of the challenge, Justice Robertson Wright did not hand down reasons.

The decision means protesters attending the demonstration on Monday evening or in the days ahead could be searched by police and face fines of up to $5,500 for not complying with police orders.

What was the case about?

The challenge was brought by the Palestine Action Group in response to the NSW government declaration that Herzog’s visit would qualify as a “major event” under the Major Events Act of 2009.

This declaration is significant because it grants police additional powers to move people on, close specific locations, search people inside a designated area, and issue orders to prevent disruption or risks to public safety.

The declaration zone encompasses the Sydney CBD and stretches out to the eastern suburbs.

It is important to note that Hyde Park was not affected by the order. But the protesters wanted to gather at Town Hall, as Palestine Action Group organiser Josh Lees explained:

We assert our right to protest at Sydney Town Hall because it is the most visible town square that we have in this city for a peaceful assembly and demonstration. We will not be shunted off to some park — out of sight, out of mind — on a dark weeknight. That is not consistent with a genuine right to protest.

The group’s challenge was made on three grounds:

• Herzog’s visit does not constitute an “event” under the relevant legislation
• the designation is unreasonable
• it was made for an “improper purpose” of suppressing a protest.

Determining an ‘event’ under the law

It is important to understand that the designation of the “major event” area for Herzog’s visit was not made by the NSW parliament. Rather, as is usual in these cases, it was made by the tourism minister, Stephen Kamper, under the Major Events Act.

This legislation was aimed at keeping public order during major sporting or music events. Although the act has been used to expand policing powers for large government meetings, such as the 2018 ASEAN–Australia Special Summit, this week’s action is reportedly the first time it has been used solely for the visit of a foreign dignitary.

The act also specifically states that it cannot be used to “declare an industrial or political demonstration or protest to be a major event”. The government’s declaration does not mention protests, however – it declares the major event to be the “Israeli presidential visit”.

The plaintiffs argued the Major Events Act requires the declaration to specify a time, location and who is participating in the “event”.

Although the declaration included a map of the area covered by the declaration and a four-day time period from February 9–12, the plaintiffs argued it lacked precise locations and participants.

This was problematic as it infringed on the public’s fundamental rights of expression and assembly.

Infringing on people’s rights

For various reasons, the plantiffs did not use the implied freedom of political communication as the basis for their challenge.

But they did question the impact on people’s human rights through what is known as the “principle of legality”. Put simply, this principle requires courts to presume that any law passed by the state will not infringe on human rights – unless there are clear words to that effect in the law or it is implied.

The judge, in dismissing the challenge, presumably did not agree with these arguments.

Nor did Justice Wright apparently agree with the plaintiffs’ assertion the declaration was unreasonable and had an improper purpose – to suppress a protest. This would have been difficult to prove, given the minister had cited public order and security concerns in his decision, which could be viewed as a proper purpose.

Broader implications of the ruling

The case raises legal questions about the extent to which a government can restrict protests to a particular area (like Hyde Park) in the name of public order.

In its press release , the government said:

These arrangements are not a ban on protests or marches. People retain the right to express their views lawfully.

On one hand, there is an argument that people should be able to choose where they want to protest to maximise impact.

An argument could also be made that some balance is required between the right to protest and the need to maintain public safety or order. Indeed, during the hearing, Justice Wright suggested the exclusion of Hyde Park from the declaration may have legitimately achieved this balance.

This will be relevant to another challenge due to be heard before the NSW Supreme Court on February 26 to the government’s restrictions on protests following a terror attack. This power was given to police in legislation passed immediately after the Bondi terror attack in December.

Given protests will continue to occur in all states in the face of restrictions like these, it will become increasingly important for the courts to clarify this question about how to find the right balance and ensure freedom of expression is not curtailed.

Maria O'Sullivan, Associate Professor of Law, Member of Deakin Cyber and the Centre for Law as Protection, Deakin University, Deakin University

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

As the US Department of Justice published 3.5 million pages of the Epstein files, deputy US attorney Todd Blanche indicated that the deluge of documents wouldn’t lead to additional criminal charges. Victims want “to be made whole”, he said, but that “doesn’t mean we can just create evidence or that we can just kind of come up with a case that isn’t there”.

Given the scale of the revelations, and the fact that millions of files haven’t been released, that statement seems incredible. But beyond this, survivors of Jeffrey Epstein’s abuse have come forward for years to tell their stories, and have not received justice.

In an interview in September 2025, six Epstein survivors stated that the Department of Justice had not contacted them in the process of reviewing the files.

Not only have Epstein survivors been shut out from the process, the department revealed the identities and personal information of survivors in the publicly released 3.5 million pages. Survivor Danielle Bensky told news outlets she found her name and personal information in the files. Such an error is gross negligence and incompetence that silences and endangers victims.

Of course, not all people named in the files sexually abused or were complicit in the sexual abuse of girls and young women. But this moment is an echo of how authorities have reacted to Epstein’s survivors for 30 years.

As the political and financial scandals emerge, politicians have called for a “victim-centred” approach. But as people react with shock to the revelations in the files, it’s clear that the voices and experiences of the victims are still being ignored.

Decades of evidence

Survivors of Epstein’s abuse had been speaking out for years before the public became fascinated by Epstein’s crimes and the famous men in his network.

In 1996, Maria Farmer reported to the New York Police Department and the FBI that Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell had violently groped her. She was 25 at the time, and later found out her 16-year-old sister Annie had also been violated by Epstein. The FBI failed to investigate, and abuse of girls continued.

Victims’ rights lawyer Brad Edwards has represented over 200 of Epstein’s survivors. In 2008, Edwards told a federal judge that Epstein might be the “most dangerous sexual predator in US history”.

That same year, Epstein was handed a sweetheart deal of being charged with solicitation of prostitution only, instead of child sexual abuse or trafficking. This resulted in a 13-month stint at a minimum security facility, which he left 12 hours per day on most days to “work” at his foundation. He was required to register as a sex offender, though not tried as one.

In Florida, child sexual abuse cases can recommend up to life imprisonment for guilty convictions. Human sex trafficking in Florida can result in up to 30 years imprisonment. Of course, convictions can be complicated – but both child sexual abuse and human sex trafficking are serious crimes associated with extended prison sentences.

The latest files showed that many powerful people in Epstein’s network – Peter Mandelson, for example – were not deterred by him registering as a sex offender in 2008.

At the time, the New York Times headlined its story “Financier Starts Sentence in Prostitution Case”. While factually correct, such an approach arguably downplayed Epstein’s sexual abuse of girls and young women.

Few journalists were courageous enough to explicitly name Epstein’s crimes for what they were. One exception was a 2006 opinion piece by journalist Eliza Cramer of The Palm Beach Post, who wrote: “He was over 50. And they were girls. 14, 15, 16, 17-year-old-girls. That should count for something – the difference between prostitution and pedophilia.”

By 2009, at least a dozen civil lawsuits had been filed against Epstein. In 2010, flight logs obtained through the suits showed several high-powered men, including politicians, celebrities, academics and CEOs, flying on Epstein’s jets.

Justice denied

It took another nine years and many more civil suits before Epstein was arrested on July 6 2019 for sex trafficking and sex trafficking conspiracy. He faced up to 45 years in prison if convicted.

Survivors again came forward publicly to tell their stories, like Courtney Wild, Virginia Roberts Giuffre and Jennifer Araoz, who were 14 and 15 when first recruited to “massage” Epstein. All three came from difficult backgrounds, and all three claimed to have eventually been raped by Epstein. They were adults by the time they finally saw their abuser behind bars.

Survivors were denied justice once again when Epstein was found dead in his jail cell in August 2019. But that didn’t stop them from speaking out in 2021 during Ghislaine Maxwell’s trial, which ended in a 20-year sentence for sex trafficking girls.

The fallout from the latest revelations has again put survivors secondary to the actions of powerful men. Mandelson, who maintained a friendship with Epstein after his 2008 conviction, initially declined to apologise to Epstein’s victims and distance himself from any knowledge of the financier’s sex crimes.

Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor, who in 2022 settled a civil sexual assault case from Giuffre without an admission of liability, has only in the last few months lost his royal titles. And only with this latest batch of revelations has finally left his royal residence.

Giuffre’s memoir was released October 2025, months after she died. A line in her book sums up our responsibility to stop ignoring the survivors: “I know this is a lot to take in. The violence. The neglect. The bad decisions. The self-harm. Imagine if a trauma reel like this played in your head all the time, as it does mine … but please don’t stop reading.”

The sexual abuse and sex trafficking of girls and young women detailed by the survivors is harrowing. Removing a few titles or losing a job will never be adequate justice for the crimes committed, nor for the sidelining of victims for so many years.

Lindsey Blumell, 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.

Indonesian President Prabowo Subianto waited decades for his chance to lead the country. The controversial former general finally won the office on his third attempt in a 2024 landslide election.

Since then, Prabowo has wasted little time moving against Indonesia’s fragile democracy, accelerating a process that began under his predecessor, Joko “Jokowi” Widodo.

As Australia and Indonesia grow closer, this matters. The two neighbours agreed on an important bilateral security treaty in November, and it is expected to be formally signed in the coming days during Prime Minister Anthony Albanese’s trip to Indonesia.

Yet, the countries seem to be moving further apart when it comes to freedom of speech and respect for civil society. This could complicate matters for Albanese, particularly as Prabowo ramps up his crackdown on critics of his administration.

Distaste for democracy

Indonesia’s vulnerable democratic system has been under repeated attack from government for most of the last decade. Under the administrations of Widodo and now Prabowo, a laundry list of actions have been taken to chip away at it. To name just a few:

• the independence of the once-feared anti-corruption commission (KPK) has been profoundly compromised

• blatant efforts have been made to stack the Constitutional Court

• the army has been invited back into civil administration, with laws passed to make it possible

• nepotistic appointments have been made to high public offices, including ministries, the central bank, the courts and even the vice presidency

• unconstitutional laws prohibiting criticism of the government have been reinstated

• laws have passed allowing the government to ban civil society organisations without judicial intervention

• a new proposal has been made to end direct elections of local government heads.

Many predicted these events. Prabowo has never made secret his distaste for democracy and enthusiasm for the authoritarian New Order regime of Soeharto, his former father-in-law.

In fact, Gerindra, Prabowo’s political party, still has as its No. 1 objective reinstating the old constitution under which Soeharto ruled. This would mean dumping most of the key democratic reforms of the past 30 years.

But recent developments suggest the dismantling of democratic freedoms is speeding up. Prabowo seems to be using the Soeharto playbook to move against those who oppose what he is doing – mainly pro-democracy activists.

Increasing attacks on critics

It’s not hard to understand why. Prabowo’s grand ruling coalition now includes almost every party in the legislature – all of them right or centre-right – and political discourse rarely involves detailed policy debates.

This means civil society – in particular, Indonesia’s tiny but vibrant activist community – has become the only real source of opposition.

After Soeharto’s fall, activist NGOs emerged as key drivers of reform, progressive policy and government monitoring in Indonesia. At times, they partnered with government to deliver new policy initiatives. But under Jokowi, NGOs also led massive demonstrations against regressive policies.

Now, Prabowo’s administration has identified them as the enemy.

In August, huge protests broke out after politicians voted to give themselves extravagant allowances. A brutal police response then triggered wild violence against authorities across the archipelago. These riots shook the ruling elite to the core.

In response, the government came down heavily on civil society activists. It blamed them for the riots, even though they were mostly a spontaneous popular response to abusive actions by the authorites. Prabowo, however, said activists were engaging in “treason and terrorism”.

Thousands were arrested and, detainees claim, some were tortured. Hundreds now face trial for subversion and incitement. This has tied up the small activist groups working frantically to defend their colleagues.

Prabowo has also used the Soeharto-era approach of associating his critics with shadowy foreign enemies. He has railed against “foreign intervention” he says is intended to “divide the country”. He claims there are “foreign lackeys” backed by foreign powers “that do not want to see Indonesia prosper”.

Last year, Prabowo even accused the highly-respected news outlet Tempo of being a foreign stooge because it won a grant from the Media Development Investment Fund, a not-for-profit linked to George Soros.

This week, he claimed to have unspecified proof that foreign forces were behind the August riots.

A draconian new law against ‘foreign propaganda’

“Let the dogs bark,” Prabowo told a press conference last March in response to his critics. “We will keep moving forward. We are on the right path”.

But, in reality, Prabowo is determined to stop the barking. His government has now proposed a law against disinformation and foreign propaganda that could revive Soeharto-era media controls and censorship.

A so-called “academic draft” putting forth the rationale for the law says Indonesia needs “a comprehensive and integrated legal instrument to prevent, detect, and counter disinformation and foreign propaganda”. It alleges that disinformation and foreign propaganda is being “powered by social media, artificial intelligence and transnational networks” of malicious actors.

If this law is passed in the form the draft suggests, it could be used to ramp up the government’s crackdown on civil society groups. Activists and journalists could potentially be charged with offences of spreading “foreign propaganda”.

The draft also proposes restricting “foreign capital” to stop the threat posed by so-called foreign agents.

Many civil society groups in Indonesia are affiliated with international NGOs, such as Amnesty and Transparency. Many others receive funding from overseas aid organisations, including Australia’s, or private philanthropists. Most depend on these streams of income to pay wages and day-to-day expenses. They would collapse without this funding.

It’s not clear what exactly “foreign capital restrictions” means. But it could cast a wide net over all activist groups, as well as foreign organisations working in Indonesia that have an online presence.

Indonesians targeted in Australia

But the net may reach even further than this. The draft suggests the law would apply across borders. This could effectively target government critics based overseas, including in Australia.

Despite the dramatic decline in Indonesian studies in our schools and universities, Australia is still a major global centre for research on Indonesia. Indonesian critics of different regimes in Jakarta have sought sanctuary in Australia over the decades, and many thousands of Indonesians have studied here.

Australia is also home to a small but active Indonesian diaspora community. In August, they held their own demonstrations in cities across Australia in support of the protests in Indonesia.

As Prabowo’s administration moves Indonesia closer to becoming a “new New Order”, where opposition is routinely met with repression and censorship prevails, Australia’s role as a hub for open dialogue, free speech, analysis and criticism of Indonesia will become even more important.

We can be sure this will be no more welcome in Prabowo’s Indonesia than it was under Soeharto. Then, Australian academics and journalists were often denied entry and critical articles sometimes led to a freeze in diplomatic relations.

Today, however, the Indonesian government has coercive digital capabilities, which it can deploy against its critics in the diaspora. To make matters worse, Australia and Indonesia have an active extradition agreement. Theoretically, it might be deployed against Indonesians in Australia who have fallen afoul of the proposed disinformation and foreign propaganda law.

Indonesia is the dominant economic and political force in Southeast Asia, and an emerging global player. It is crucial to Australia’s defence strategies and an important partner on immigration, trade and education.

This means Canberra must have a good working relationship with Jakarta. Agreements about trade and defence are part of that, as is the constant flow of ministerial visits between the two countries.

But all that will become way more difficult to manage if this xenophobic new law is passed and used to stifle free speech and target legitimate criticism of the government.

Tim Lindsey, Malcolm Smith Professor of Asian Law and Director of the Centre for Indonesian Law, Islam and Society, The University of Melbourne

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

The start of the year often comes with attempts at big life changes that we’re hoping will make us feel more grounded, fulfilled or in control. Maybe you’ve decided it’s time to change careers, move overseas or run a marathon.

But lasting meaning rarely comes from dramatic reinvention. It’s shaped by what we do, consistently. Behavioural science tells us meaning is constructed one reinforcing action at a time.

In other words, meaning isn’t something you discover after a long search. It’s something you build, one small, worthwhile action after the other.

So how exactly does all this work? And what types of worthwhile actions are we talking about?

The meaning of meaning

In psychology, “meaning” refers to the sense that life is coherent, purposeful and connected to what you care about.

People who experience more meaning tend to report better wellbeing, lower stress and depression, and greater resilience when life becomes difficult.

When meaning is low, people can feel unanchored or adrift, even if nothing is going objectively “wrong”.

Life tends to feel meaningful when we spend time doing things that matter to us and that offer some sense of reward. This is not necessarily excitement, but a quiet feeling of “that was worth doing”. Helping a friend, learning something small, progressing a task, or sharing a moment of connection can all leave us more grounded and alive.

These experiences are examples of positive reinforcement – behaviours that give something back, such as energy, pride, satisfaction or connection. Over time, these small rewards strengthen the patterns that help life feel purposeful.

By contrast, when we mainly act to avoid discomfort – cancel plans, withdraw when anxious or overwhelmed, delay tasks that matter – we get a moment of relief, but lose access to the experiences that enrich life.

A more helpful pattern is to take small steps even when motivation is low. Sending the message, starting the job or stepping outside are small beginnings that often spark the satisfaction or hope we were waiting for.

Why one-off boosts don’t last

The hedonic treadmill helps explain why one-off, feel-good moments rarely create lasting meaning. Psychologists use this term to describe our tendency to quickly return to our usual emotional baseline after positive events.

We adapt quickly to pleasurable things and events: buying something new, ticking off a goal, going on a short holiday. A burnt-out worker might feel better after a weekend away, but the effect fades as soon as Monday returns.

Special moments are still valuable. They create memories and punctuate the year. But they don’t change our lives unless paired with small, consistent shifts in everyday routines, setting boundaries, and the ways we invest in our relationships.

Meaning depends on diverse sources

Wellbeing is more stable when supported by a range of small, ongoing sources of reinforcement. If all your sense of purpose rests on work, one relationship, or a single pursuit – like sport – then stress in that single area can shake your wellbeing.

But when meaning draws on several domains – friendships, learning, creativity, physical activity, contribution, family, nature, spirituality – you have more points of stability.

The encouraging part is meaning doesn’t depend on perfect motivation or major life changes. It’s shaped by small behaviours you can start at any time.

So what actually works?

These three research-backed steps can help build more meaning into your life.

1. Look back before moving forward

Before setting goals, reflect on the previous year. Ask:

• what am I proud of or grateful for?

• what lifted my energy or sense of purpose?

• what drained it?

• what did I avoid that actually mattered?

This helps you recognise which behaviours, relationships and routines quietly sustained you, and where your portfolio may have become too narrow.

2. Pick two or three areas that matter to you

Meaningful change rarely comes from grand resolutions. A steadier approach is to choose two or three life areas that matter – improving health, deepening a relationship, learning something new, contributing to community life, or strengthening parenting routines – and identify one small, realistic action in each. The aim isn’t to overhaul everything, but to gently broaden your sources of reward.

Schedule only the first step: a short walk, reading a page, sending a message, writing a paragraph, practising for five minutes. Early on, the greatest achievement is simply starting, no matter how small.

Be kind to yourself. Illness, stress, fatigue and competing demands will disrupt your plans. What matters is returning, gently and repeatedly, to the behaviours that reflect who you want to be.

3. Arrange your environment so the right behaviours are easy

Use cues to help you start. Lay out walking clothes the night before, keep your journal on your pillow, put reminders where you’ll see them.

Reduce friction. Keep essentials in predictable places, move distractions out of sight and maintain a workable space. The goal is to make meaningful behaviour smooth and frustration-free.

Anchor new habits to old ones:

• read a page before your morning coffee

• stretch before checking emails

• journal for three minutes before brushing your teeth.

These pairings shift the burden from willpower onto routine.

Trevor Mazzucchelli, Associate Professor of Clinical Psychology, Curtin University

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

Suicide is the leading cause of death among Australians aged 15 to 49. Approximately one in eight Australians have seriously considered suicide.

These numbers highlight why it’s crucial to understand the different ways suicidal thoughts – also known as suicidal ideation – can show up in everyday conversations.

Researchers once assumed people move along a single continuum from early thoughts to more concrete plans and actions. However, recent research suggests there are substages within this continuum, and people might flip-flop between different types of suicidal thoughts.

Suicidal thoughts can be active or passive. But what’s the difference, and how should we respond when we hear loved ones talking this way?

Passive versus active

Passive suicidal ideation involves thinking about death or not wanting to live, without intention to act and engage in suicidal behaviour.

These thoughts can sound like:

I don’t want to live, but I don’t want to die.

I wish I could fall asleep and never wake up.

My life is not worth living.

I don’t want to be here, but I don’t want to be dead.

I wish I could just disappear.

Everyone would be better off if I wasn’t around.

Active thoughts, in contrast, include thoughts about ending one’s life with some degree of intent or planning. These thoughts can sound like:

I’m having thoughts about how I would end my life.

I’m going to kill myself.

But the two categories are not always clear cut.

Researchers have tried to group related questions to reveal core themes of suicidal thinking but have struggled to articulate an exact distinction between passive and active ideation.

Research published in 2023 found some thoughts – such as “I wish I were dead” or “maybe I should kill myself” – may represent both active and passive ideation.

Passive and active thoughts often co-occur and each independently predicts suicide attempts.

Recognising the signs

These thoughts can be difficult to recognise – in yourself, or in a loved one.

People may not openly express them, or may not know how to put these thoughts into words and ask for help.

Regardless of whether thoughts are passive or active, certain patterns suggest increasing risk.

Warning signs include:

• thoughts becoming more frequent or intrusive
• increased hopelessness or despair
• creating plans to end one’s life or preparing to act, and
• engaging in risky behaviour.

There may also be behavioural changes, such as:

• shifts in sleep and eating habits
• withdrawing socially
• losing interest in hobbies
• irritability
• decreased academic or work performance, or
• a person putting their affairs in order.

More than two thirds of people who die by suicide do not engage with mental health professionals in the year prior to their death.

This underlines the crucial role of friends, family and peers.

What should I do if I hear someone talking this way?

First, thank the person for trusting you. Then get curious, listen more than you talk and identify patterns in what they are describing.

Ask about the frequency, intensity and controllability of their thoughts, and whether they are doing anything to prepare to act on them.

Asking about suicide does not put the idea in someone’s head.

Ask questions such as:

How long have you been having these thoughts?

When do these thoughts occur?

How would you rate the intensity of these thoughts?

Do you have a plan to act on these thoughts?

Importantly, passive thoughts are not “safer thoughts.”

They are often a warning sign the person is in significant distress and may move into more active planning if they do not receive support.

Talking about suicidal thoughts can reduce stigma and encourage people to get help.

The National Australian Suicide Prevention Strategy 2025–2035 recognises the importance of a whole-of-community response to suicide prevention, with specific emphasis on laypeople recognising and responding to suicidal distress.

The Black Dog Institute provides a four-step guide for suicide prevention that can help structure your response.

First, directly ask if they are having thoughts of suicide.

Second, listen and take what they are saying seriously, and check their safety to ensure there is nothing they can use to harm themselves.

Third, get help. If someone’s life is in immediate danger, call 000, call a helpline such as Lifeline (13 11 14), or take them to the emergency department; if they are not in immediate danger, help them make an appointment with a GP or psychologist or call a helpline.

Fourth, follow up and check on the person. Let them know you care about them and ask how often would be appropriate to check in with them.

Of course, suicide is complex. Warning signs are not always apparent in the moment. If you have lost someone to suicide, please know you are not responsible for their death. Their decision was shaped by many factors beyond just one person’s control.

No feeling is final

Crisis does eventually pass. While it may not feel possible in the moment, remind the person that things will not stay this way forever and that help is available.

Passive or active, thoughts of suicide are a sign of deep distress.

When we notice and respond with calm curiosity, compassion and practical support, we may help save a life.

If this article has raised issues for you, or if you’re concerned about someone you know, call Lifeline on 13 11 14.

Maddison Crethar, PhD Candidate, Youth Mental Health, University of the Sunshine Coast and Daniel Hermens, Professor of Youth Mental Health & Neurobiology, University of the Sunshine Coast

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