In the cold weather, few items of clothing beat a hoodie. They’re comfy, warm and they look cool.

But where did hoodies come from and how did they come to be everywhere?

From warmth and protection, to sportswear then streetwear, across decades hoodies have become entangled with groups and gangs, surveillance and control, fear and policing, race and power.

Hoodies can divide, but they also bring people together. With this in mind, they might be “our last truly political item of clothing”.

Hoods in history

Hooded garments are nothing new. In fact, they’re very old.

The Orkney Hood, discovered in a peat bog on Scotland’s Orkney Islands, covered the head and shoulders of a child in the late Iron Age (between the third and seventh centuries CE).

In 1936, a Swedish bog revealed the “Bocksten Man”. He still wore the clothes he died in, sometime between 1350–70. His woollen hood added warmth to his outfit: a tunic and mantle (cloak), plus long socks, footwraps and leather shoes. It also gave researchers clues centuries later to his status and changing hood fashions, even then.

Medieval monks wore austere versions of hooded garments. These served to aid the inner contemplation demanded by monastic life. Medieval knights donned chain mail hoods as part of their protective armour.

Women’s gabled hoods, worn around 1500, were wired into a point at the top of the head, with fabric draping over the shoulders. They were fashionable and modest, before the French hood (which was pushed back to reveal the hair) was popularised by Anne Boleyn.

Other hoods appeared across centuries to follow, though it was only in the 20th century we saw the emergence of the hoodie as we now know it.

The origins of the hoodie

“Hoodie” was added to the Oxford English Dictionary in 2006 to mean “a hooded sweatshirt, fleece, or other garment”. The garment had its origins on the sports field and in hard work decades earlier.

The company that later became Champion Athletic Apparel developed a hooded sweater in the 1930s. The functional garment was meant to keep athletes warm ahead of a game. The hooded garment also appealed to manual workers.

In Australia, hooded jumpers worn for ice skating or other outdoor winter sports became stylish for women in the 1940s.

“Here it is – the hooded jumper you’ve dreamed of for those bleak days of winter when the wind sends shivers down your spine,” a knitting pattern in one Melbourne newspaper described, encouraging women to make their own.

Sylvester Stallone as boxer Rocky Balboa lifted hoodies from sportswear into the cultural zeitgeist. The iconic training scene from the first of the Rocky films, with Stallone running up the steps to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, helped to elevate the garment as a symbol of grit and determination.

When, nearly 40 years later Michael B. Jordan starred opposite Stallone in the film Creed, the grey hoodie appeared again. This time, however, it also reflected a deep racial divide.

From sportswear to streetwear

In the 1980s and ‘90s, youth culture transformed the garment from sportswear to streetwear.

Break dancers and graffiti artists adopted them. So did skaters and snowboarders as hoodies became a symbol of a younger generation – and soon, of moral panic. Hip hop artists and rappers – Eminem, Ice-T, and plenty more – gave the garment an added edge.

Oversized or baggy hoodies became linked to youth crime – vandalism, violence or shoplifting. With the hood pulled up, they were often framed as being symbols of rebellion and defiance, with their capacity to make wearers menacingly anonymous.

Hoodies’ bad reputation sparked their banning in shopping centres in the United Kingdom, the United States and New Zealand in the 2000s. A ban was even trialled in Australia, though it was quickly scrapped following community outrage.

The tragic killing of Trayvon Martin in Florida in 2012 sent shockwaves around the globe. Martin, an unarmed African American teenager, had been wearing a hoodie when he was fatally shot for looking “suspicious”.

In the wake of Martin’s death, some queried the place of his hoodie in the shooting. It also sparked the Million Hoodie March in protest of racial profiling.

This prompted a troubling question: who could wear the garment without fear of repercussion and how much of this was based on age or skin colour?

Power and politics

When a young Mark Zuckerberg held meetings with investors just months after Trayvon Martin’s death, his hoodie raised eyebrows for different reasons. His sartorial rebellion flouted corporate dress trends.

US politician John Fetterman now frequently wears his preferred outfit of a hoodie and shorts. He even donned a hoodie printed to suggest a tuxedo – a reference to the black tie dress code – for the 2024 White House Correspondents’ Dinner and another for Donald Trump’s second presidential inauguration.

Hoodies are a potential flashpoint for power and politics.

For this reason, an exhibition focused on the style staple at the Nieuwe Instituut in Rotterdam in 2019, then the Museum of Design Atlanta in 2026, provocatively invited visitors to consider: “What do you see when you look at this garment – and what might others see?”

Lorinda Cramer, Lecturer, Cultural Heritage and Museum Studies, Deakin University

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

Have you ever watched online videos of people “playing” with cats and noticed the cat doesn’t actually look like they’re having fun? If so, you’re likely better than the average person at reading cat body language.

Regular interactive play supports cats’ physical health, reduces stress, and strengthens the human–cat bond.

But according to our most recent study, what many people think of as “play” may not be play at all. In fact, these interactions cause cats annoyance or stress.

When ‘play’ isn’t actually play

When playing, both human and cat need to tell apart behaviours that might be threatening in other contexts, such as sudden movements, swatting or chasing.

Research shows people struggle to interpret cat communication and often fail to notice when a cat doesn’t want to play. Even when they do notice, many people choose to continue anyway.

To understand why people might misinterpret or ignore cat stress signals, in our new study we analysed 1,100 comments on social media videos hosted on YouTube, TikTok, Instagram and Facebook depicting harmful “play”.

To avoid viral videos disproportionately influencing analysis, only the first 100 comments from each video were analysed. Comments came from a mix of cat owners and non-cat owners.

All 11 videos included clear signs of cat distress such as hissing, biting, attempting escape, visible human injuries and, in some cases, cats being physically harmed. Despite this, 75–93% of comments on all videos were positive. How come?

Why do people misinterpret cats?

Viewer misinterpretations appeared to be shaped by people’s existing beliefs about cats, human–cat dynamics, and what is fun or funny. Many comments normalised rough handling, reframed signs of stress as excitement or affection, or trivialised them as “cute” or “funny”.

In many cases, comments reflected cognitive dissonance (the mental discomfort when our established beliefs clash with conflicting evidence) and common coping mechanisms our brains use to reduce it such as denial, dismissal, or becoming defensive:

anyone with a crumb of common sense can tell that this video isn’t animal abuse.

Comments also echoed problematic perceptions stemming from broader societal narratives:

if she didn’t want to, she’d run away

if they were really mad your arm would be dripping blood.

Such statements bear striking resemblance to human sentiments such as “if it was so bad, why didn’t she leave?” directed at victims of intimate partner violence.

Common misinterpretations

1. ‘Real distress is unmistakable’

Viewers often believed that if a cat “truly” disliked an interaction, they’d leave or cause more serious injury. If there was no visible blood, the cat stayed, or didn’t match the person’s idea of “distressed”, viewers concluded they were playing.

In reality, cats often remain in an interaction or hold back attacks to reduce risks to themselves, as a “freeze” response, or to avoid escalation.

2. ‘It’s not stress, it’s excitement’

Viewers frequently misinterpreted distress signals (ears pinned back, tail thrashing, forceful attacks, growling) as signs a cat was enjoying rough “play”. They’d reference similar behaviours from their own cat as proof of cat enjoyment.

In reality, rough play is overstimulating. While cats may seem engaged, they’re likely being defensive, not playful.

3. ‘Cats know it’s just play’

Many viewers assumed that bonded or socialised cats could tell the difference between “playing” and “violence”. Others believed cats “knew” to hold back. This belief persisted even when a video depicted a baby being injured, with viewers insisting the cat was being gentle.

In reality, while cats may inhibit their actions during true play sessions, they can become overstimulated quickly, leading to distress and defensive injuries.

And they can still become stressed even when they know you’re playing. While cats may tolerate more from a person they trust, unwanted interactions are likely to damage trust over time.

4. ‘It’s how you gain trust’

Worryingly, viewers encouraged others to continue harmful interactions even as the cat became visibly distressed and aggressive, claiming this was the best way to “win over” a cat or gain their trust.

But cats communicate their distress for a reason: they want you to stop.

5. ‘It’s how cats show love’

Biting was often reframed by viewers as a sign of affection (a “love bite”), while human tolerance of injuries was often praised as a sign of devotion. Some viewers treated scratches as a badge of honour and insisted they’re a normal part of living with cats.

In reality, so-called love bites are usually a cat’s polite way of telling you they’ve had enough. If you’re constantly covered in bites or scratches, you’re likely regularly overstimulating your cat.

How to play with your cat safely

Let them choose. Always ensure your cat wants to play. Start slowly, allow your cat choice, provide multiple exit routes, and pay attention to subtle cues that they’ve had enough.

Avoid play-fighting. Rough play can quickly overwhelm a cat, teaches them to treat hands as toys, and often leads to injury. Instead, rotate different wand toys and similar items that keep you at arm’s length, protect from injury, and reduce the chance of accidentally causing stress.

Stay curious. In our study, many viewers misinterpreted cat behaviour or dismissed clear stress signals not out of malice, but because acknowledging them conflicted with their established beliefs or self-image. If the idea that your play style might cause your cat stress makes you uncomfortable, take a leaf out of the book of cats and try to stay curious. Curiosity has been shown to be effective in helping people see past their own biases.

If we stay curious, we stay open to noticing when our cats are enjoying play, and when they want to stop.

Julia Henning, Researcher, School of Animal and Veterinary Science, Adelaide University

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

NASA is planning to send three small rovers to the Moon with a single instruction: Work out among yourselves how to explore a patch of ground.

The Cooperative Autonomous Distributed Robotic Exploration mission, or CADRE, will land on the side of the Moon facing Earth as part of NASA’s IM-3 launch, planned for late 2026. These rovers will spend roughly two weeks mapping the terrain as a self-guided team. No joystick will control them, and no human will approve each turn.

The rovers will elect a leader among themselves, assign their own tasks and redraw their plans as a group when one of them runs low on charge. If it succeeds, CADRE will be the first time NASA has operated multiple rovers beyond Earth as a single autonomous system.

That achievement will matter well beyond this mission, because NASA is scoping out future missions to the lunar South Pole, where water in the form of ice sits locked in craters that haven’t seen sunlight in billions of years. If researchers can chemically split that ice apart and turn it into propellant and breathable air, it could become the feedstock for a lunar economy built around fuel depots and life support made on the Moon.

Right now, the only demand for that ice comes from government contracts. And an operation that must be babysat from 239,000 miles (384,000 kilometers) away will not easily scale into a market. So, while a full-blown lunar economy is still far off, CADRE is testing whether robots can work unsupervised long enough, and in enough numbers, to keep a lunar operation running month after month.

I’m an aerospace engineering Ph.D. candidate researching guidance, navigation and control for spacecraft in-orbit servicing and active debris removal. I work on the same problem these rovers face: how a machine decides what to do next when it cannot call home for instructions.

Why Earth cannot drive

At the Moon’s South Pole, the terrain itself can cause communication disruptions. Commands reach a rover by way of relay satellites, and crater rims can block the line of sight to those relays. A rover that ventures down into a shadowed crater may lose contact for its entire trip.

Spotty communication doesn’t just make trying to drive annoying. It can cost the rover power it cannot recover.

A polar rover runs on a finite illumination budget. Solar panels charge the battery only while the Sun is up, and on the Moon sunrise is not a daily event. Night lasts about two Earth weeks, and at the poles, only a few ridges stay lit for long stretches. So for every minute a rover spends idle, awaiting new instructions, it is spending stored energy it cannot replace until the Sun comes back.

Why the pole is the hard case

The lunar poles also come with unique challenges. Sunlight can swing from direct glare to absolute shadow as a rover drives down from a sunlit crater rim to the shadowed floor below, so a camera that worked at the top could go blind at the bottom.

The Moon also doesn’t have GPS satellites like Earth does, so rovers can’t know exactly where they are. They need to build their own maps from what their cameras and sensors see.

Temperatures inside permanently shadowed regions drop below minus 274 degrees Fahrenheit (minus 170 degrees Celsius). And the Moon’s dust is more dangerous than it sounds. An electric charge lifts it off the ground, and billions of years of tiny meteorite strikes have left every grain sharp and jagged.

That dust grinds at the wheel bearings and works past the seals. Keeping it out of the rover’s moving parts is still an unsolved problem. The dust can also film over the camera lenses that navigation depends on, leaving a rover unable to see where it is going or move safely.

Why one rover is not enough

Sending a single rover to check out a crater on the Moon is a risky mission. If it gets stuck, the campaign ends. If its instruments fail, no second machine can take the measurements. Multirobot teams distribute that risk and split up the jobs. One rover might carry the sensors and another the drill, while a lander positioned on a sunlit ridge acts as the power and communications hub.

Under a communications blackout, a rover team that waits for its commands from Earth has to stop. An autonomous team reassigns tasks among itself, selecting the next objective that it can reach and complete with the amount of power it has left. Dead time becomes work time.

In ground testing at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory, the CADRE rovers achieved this coordination. Faced with unexpected obstacles, they replanned paths as a group, and when one rover’s battery ran low, the whole team paused so they could continue together.

What remains uncertain

A campaign at the lunar South Pole would need to run for months, and no robot team has yet worked that hard, for that long, that far from help. Engineers are developing ways for rovers to navigate without satellite positioning and to make decisions onboard, but that software still has to be tested on the surface.

Meanwhile, as of mid-August 2026, China’s Chang'e-7 mission is waiting at Wenchang, the launch site on Hainan Island in China, with liftoff expected by the end of the year. Its lander, rover and hopping probe are meant to work at the pole as a team, with the probe built to leap into permanently shadowed craters. If the U.S. wants to keep pace, it will need its own robots that coordinate without supervision.

Finally, there is no agreed way for a rover built by one company to hand a task to a tool built by another, or to decide which one works the crater floor first. As autonomous rover teams improve, the groups building them will have to work out those rules.

CADRE will tell scientists whether three small rovers can reason together on the Moon. The harder question is whether a dozen different machines from different builders can do the same thing, reliably, for years.

Wanjiku Chebet Kanjumba, Ph.D. Candidate in Aerospace Engineering, University of Florida

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

In 1906, the journalist W.T. Stead warned in A Plea for the Revival of Reading that Britain faced a reading crisis. People, he complained, no longer read books. Instead, they skimmed newspapers on trains, forgot what they had read by lunchtime and increasingly preferred distraction to sustained attention. His proposed solution? A national revival of reading.

One hundred and twenty years later, 2026 is the UK’s National Year of Reading. After years of concern about declining rates of reading for pleasure, the headlines are dramatic. The Times recently warned: “If humans stop reading, barbarians will live among us again”. Screens, smartphones and short-form video social media platforms like TikTok are regularly presented as the culprits.

So, reading Stead’s pamphlet (1906) today is an uncanny experience. While researching Stead’s journalism for my book The Americanisation of W.T. Stead (2026), I found that many of the arguments we assume belong to the digital age were already being made in Victorian Britain.

Stead begins with a distinction that still lies at the heart of debates about reading: “Millions have never yet found out that books were interesting,” he writes. “They can read, but they do not care for reading”.

This observation chimes with our contemporary moment. The problem is not literacy alone, but reading identity. Someone may possess the technical ability to read without ever coming to think of themselves as a reader. Current reading research makes a similar distinction. There is now broad agreement that developing a love of reading depends not simply on decoding words but on motivation, confidence and finding books that feel relevant.

Stead also rejected the idea that this love of reading could simply be imposed: “The love for the reading of books is an acquired taste,” he argued. Children might have to be compelled to learn to read, but learning to love reading required something quite different, “instead of coercion there is needed a good deal of coaxing”.

Again, this sounds very familiar today. Modern initiatives promoting shared reading, reading for pleasure and child-led book choice all rest on the principle: readers are made through encouragement rather than compulsion.

Stead’s advice began with children. He believed that one of the most effective ways of creating readers was simply reading aloud. Good oral reading, he claimed, was “the surest, simplest, and speediest way of awakening a love of reading”.

More than a century later, spoken language is once again moving up the educational agenda. The government’s proposed oracy framework, expected to be introduced by 2028, reflects a renewed recognition that speaking, listening and reading are closely connected – even if the framework’s primary focus extends beyond literacy alone.

It is in Stead’s discussion of attention, however, that the similarities with today’s debates become most apparent.

The attention debate

Stead worried that newspapers had fundamentally altered reading habits. Circulation libraries, newspapers and magazines encouraged “a habit of skimming rather than reading”. Newspapers, he complained, had become “mere rag bags of shreds and patches”. Readers looked through them “as we look into kaleidoscopes”, producing only “an evanescent effect upon our minds”.

Replace “newspapers” with “social media feeds” and the argument would sound entirely contemporary.

“Memory, judgement, the critical faculty are unexercised”, Stead lamented. It is difficult not to hear echoes of today’s debates about social media and, increasingly, concerns about generative-AI technologies. Critics now ask whether the use of AI assistants to process information and endless scrolling on screens fragments attention, weakens memory and encourages rapid emotional reactions rather than sustained reflection. While the technologies are radically different, the underlying concern is remarkably familiar: the way we consume information shapes how we think.

Where Stead relied on cultural observation, researchers today investigate these questions empirically. There is growing evidence that sustained, immersive reading supports concentration, reflection and aspects of mental wellbeing, while regular reading has also been associated with lower stress levels and, over the longer term, healthier cognitive ageing.

At the same time, experts caution against simplistic comparisons between books and screens. Different media support different kinds of reading, and much depends on what people are reading and how they engage with it.

Stead quotes the Liberal MP and editor John Morley, who argued that people needed to make time in each day – half an hour ideally, but even a quarter of an hour, if pushed – for what he called “good and disinterested reading”. The value of this practice, he suggested, lay not simply in acquiring knowledge but in cultivating “happiness, fortitude, wisdom and calm”. To translate those words into modern terms, we might say reading supports our mental health, emotional resilience and everyday wellbeing. The language has changed, but the aspiration is the same.

Although Stead worried that newspapers encouraged superficial reading, he also recognised that books would have to adapt. “Books”, he wrote, “must struggle for existence by the use of the same weapons as those which have secured the ascendency of the newspaper”.

This is perhaps the most surprising insight in the pamphlet. Rather than defending books against modern media, Stead argued that they should borrow modern media’s strengths. Books should become cheaper, shorter, regularly issued and more accessible. Far from resisting new communication technologies, he believed reading could flourish by adapting to them. Today’s equivalent might be publishers embracing audiobooks, podcasts, readings apps and BookTok. The principle is the same: meet readers where they already are.

Of course, Stead did not get everything right. Like many of his contemporaries and forebears, he worried about the dangers of “habitual novel reading”. He discussed proposals from America that would have restricted children’s access to popular fiction in a similar way to how tobacco sales were regulated. Today, those fears seem excessive. Yet they offer a useful reminder that every generation identifies certain forms of reading as uniquely dangerous.

The recent resurgence of book challenges and bans reminds us that debates about reading have always been as much about what people read as whether they read at all. Whether such restrictions are justified or not, history suggests these debates often reveal broader anxieties about childhood, attention and morality as much as the medium itself. Each generation, it seems, has its preferred media villain.

That is not to say current concerns should be dismissed. Reading for pleasure has genuinely declined among children, and many adults struggle to sustain the time and concentration that long-form reading demands. These are important educational and cultural questions, but they are best understood as part of a much longer story. Every major communications revolution has prompted fears that serious reading was disappearing. Yet reading has repeatedly adapted rather than vanished.

Stead understood something that remains true today. The challenge is not merely persuading people that books matter. It is, as he put it in 1906, helping people who “can read” become people who “care for reading”.

Helena Goodwyn, Assistant Professor of English Literature and Creative Writing, Northumbria University, Newcastle

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

You walk in a park. Children are playing, people are walking their dogs, and then you hear someone: “Who’s my little sweetie?” You turn around expecting to see a pram. But someone is sitting beside a dog, speaking in the same voice they would use with a baby.

It’s not in your head. The way we speak to babies is very similar to the way we speak to our pets – and research confirms this.

So why do we do this? And do pets even care?

The useful features of baby-talk

For pets and babies, we naturally raise our voice and make it more sing-songy. It’s the vocal equivalent of waving your arms to get someone’s attention.

Humans naturally switch to a warmer and more expressive way of speaking when talking to someone who may not fully understand us. It grabs attention and signals friendliness.

With babies, evolution seems to have added another layer: baby-talk also supports language learning by making speech sounds easier to hear and understand.

With pets, that teaching element diminishes. Pet-talk is mostly about connection, our way of saying, “I’m paying attention to you, you’re safe with me, and we’re interacting”.

Baby-talk and pet-talk aren’t exactly the same

When researchers remove the words and leave the speech melody intact, baby-talk and pet-talk melodies are rated as friendlier and more loving than the way we speak to adults.

However, there are some differences between pet- and baby-talk. A 2024 study compared the warmth of women’s voices when speaking to their baby versus their dog. Some of the women only had a baby, some only a dog, and some had both.

For those who had either one or the other, their speech sounded equally loving, whether directed at a baby or a dog. But the pattern changed among women who had both – the voices directed to their babies were warmer compared with their pet-talk. When they spoke to their dogs, their tone became a bit less warm than that of women who only had a dog and no baby.

This suggests pet-talk is more flexible than baby-talk. While baby-talk always remains the same, the warmth people express in their voices toward pets seems to vary with other demands on their attention.

The importance of teaching

Baby-talk and pet-talk differ in another key aspect. When talking to babies, we are teaching too. Parents often naturally exaggerate vowel sounds when they speak to babies: for example, saying “sheep” with a clearer “eee” sound that stands out.

This technique, called hyper-articulation, makes speech sounds easier for babies to distinguish. Interestingly, babies whose caregivers do this more often tend to develop larger vocabularies. So, the way we talk to babies helps build the foundation for their language skills.

When researchers looked for hyper-articulation in speech directed at pets, they found almost none. Dogs and cats receive the high-pitched, bouncy melody and emotional warmth but not the clearer pronunciation.

But researchers found an interesting pattern when looking at how people speak to parrots, known for being able to mimic human speech. In this study, people spoke to dogs in a warm voice, made their speech slightly clearer for parrots, and saved the clearest pronunciation for babies. It’s almost as if dogs get affection, parrots get a little language coaching, and babies get the full educational package.

Does pet-talk benefit pets?

A 2017 study revealed that puppies preferred recordings of pet-directed speech over regular adult speech. These happy puppies moved closer to the speaker more quickly, and paid attention for longer. Adult dogs showed a similar but slightly smaller preference.

Using pet-talk may also help us communicate better with dogs. In one study, dogs looked longer for hidden food when a pointing gesture was paired with a high-pitched voice instead of a flat tone.

Other humans seem to appreciate pet-talk, too. A 2026 survey found more than three quarters of pet owners remembered their vet speaking to their pets in a friendly way during a recent visit. Most owners appreciated it, feeling it showed the vet truly cared about their animal.

And it’s not just dogs that respond well to pet-talk. A 2021 study showed that horses, when spoken to in this warm manner, paid closer attention to their handler and were better at following human pointing gestures to find hidden food.

Next time you hear someone telling their dog they’re “the best dog in the whole world”, know they’re tapping into an old communication system built for warmth, attention and social bonding. Babies simply receive an upgraded version, one that not only says, “I care about you”, but also helps build language.

Antonia Goetz, Research Fellow Infant Studies, Western Sydney University and Zhen (Jenny) Zeng, Postdoctoral Research Fellow, Developmental Cognitive Neuroscience, Western Sydney University

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

Hundreds of high school and university students are expected to skip classes today as part of a nationwide student walkout opposing Pauline Hanson and One Nation. Protest organisers the National Union of Students have billed it as a “fight against racism” and opportunity to “stand up against the far right” – pointing to the party’s stance on multicultural issues.

While protest is a legitimate form of political participation, there has been backlash.

Liberal Senator Alex Antic told News24.com.au

Why are kids protesting things that they don’t really – I think – have a proper grasp of? And why are they being encouraged to do it by adults? […] Kids need to be in schools.

Other media commentators say they don’t understand why people under 18 are protesting politicians or political parties if they cannot vote.

The backlash echoes much of the media reporting of the School Strike for Climate protests which framed students as ignorant or pawns, manipulated by adults and other parties.

So does this mean students shouldn’t protest?

Why are students protesting if they can’t vote?

Typically, students are only allowed to miss school for a few reasons such as if they’re sick or if there’s a family crisis. Some private schools also have strict policies around absences.

But arguments that young people belong in school, miss an important point: children and young people have political and civic rights.

Under the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child, young people have a right to civic and political association, participation and representation. In Australia, elected representatives also serve children in their electorates and states. These representatives should be accountable to everybody regardless of their age or whether or not they can vote.

However, research suggests young people are still framed as “apprentice citizens” who are routinely told they must learn about democracy but not yet take part.

Children want to have a say

Arguments young people are too inexperienced to protest or have unconsidered political views are also contradicted by research.

Studies tell us many children and young people appreciate that without the vote they need to take other forms of action to have a say and influence how society is governed.

My research found high school students articulate a deep understanding of contemporary issues when provided with platforms to express their views. As part of this research, my colleagues and I analysed more than 22,500 entries to the Whitlam Institute “What Matters?” competition from 2019–2023. The competition asks students from years 5–12 to write about what’s important to them.

We found young people have strong ideas about how a range of problems facing society should be addressed. Entrants expressed concerns about climate change, war, economic inequality, racism, violence against women and children, and social media development and regulation.

What can be learnt from student protests

Research shows there are many benefits to being involved in civic and political action, such as attending protests, from a young age. For example, participation helps students develop ways to articulate their rights and concerns in addressing societal issues.

Civics and citizenship learning is also not currently meeting the needs of students – or the community. Attending protests can provide students with opportunities to bridge gaps in knowledge.

Youth advocacy also highlights institutional and legislative barriers that may weaken public participation in Australian democracy and our ability to deal with big issues. One of these barriers is the current voting age of 18 years, which my research suggested should be lowered to 16 years. Another barrier is young people’s limited access to the courts system. Recent cases of young people’s strategic climate litigation show how better access to the courts could help to address some of the issues they’re concerned about.

Youth movements can create change

Student political action has also historically led to change in some cases. Australia has a rich history of high school protests that have brought important issues to light. For example, in 1972, nation-wide student protests called for an end to gender segregation and corporal punishment in schools alongside other demands.

More recently, student activism for climate justice has led to change from government.

Students who were involved in the School Strike for Climate movement have worked with Senator David Pocock and others to launch a campaign pressuring Australian governments to consider their duty of care to children and young people in their response to climate change. While the students’ efforts were unsuccessful at the federal level, the sustained, student-driven campaign led to the Australian Capital Territory becoming the first Australian jurisdiction to embed a duty of care to young people and future generations in the new ACT Climate Change Strategy.

These incremental steps can have a tangible effect on how our country is governed. The progress sends an important message to children and young people that they are valued as citizens. Student protests also remind politicians and the community that young people matter for democracy.

Philippa Collin, Professor of Political Sociology, Institute for Culture and Society, Western Sydney University

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

High school and university students around Australia will take time out of classes tomorrow to protest against Pauline Hanson and One Nation, with posters promoting the event calling on students to “stand up against the far right” and to “fight against racism”.

The protests – planned for Melbourne, Sydney, Newcastle, Canberra, Brisbane, Adelaide, Perth and Wollongong – are expected to draw large crowds.

For many young people, attending a protest for the first time can be both exciting and overwhelming.

My research focuses on young people’s health and harm reduction in mass gatherings.

Understanding how to stay safe, what to expect, and what to do if you feel uncomfortable in a demonstration can help make the experience more positive.

What to expect

Being surrounded by people who care deeply about an issue can create a sense of community and belonging. Young people who participate in protests or discussion forums that matter to them often report feeling that their voices matter and that they are participating and contributing to civic life.

At the same time, a large crowd and demonstration can feel intimidating. There may be loud chanting, media coverage, police presence, and large numbers of unfamiliar people. It’s normal to feel nervous, excited, proud or uncertain – sometimes all at once.

Students may also discover not everyone shares the same opinions. Public demonstrations bring together people from diverse backgrounds and viewpoints. Participating respectfully and listening to others are important parts of democratic engagement. So, think about what messages you wish to deliver and try not to get too caught up in the opinions of others.

Safety in crowds

Large crowds can be energetic and inspiring, but they can also present challenges.

Before attending a demonstration, it’s important to plan ahead:

1. let a trusted adult know where you are going, who you are going with, and when you expect to return

2. attend with friends whenever possible and agree on a specific meeting point, or make an exit plan in case you become separated

3. bring water, and ensure your phone is charged

4. while you are in the crowd, pay attention to instructions given by event organisers and emergency services. They are there to help keep you safe

5. as you are moving within the crowd stay aware of exits, open spaces, and ways to leave the area if necessary

6. it might sound obvious but wearing comfortable clothing and appropriate, sturdy and closed-toe footwear is a must. Your shoes shouldn’t cause you to trip or slip. They should also protect your feet from potential injuries that may occur in tight crowds, such as having your feet stepped on.

Remember, if a crowd becomes too dense, agitated or difficult to move through, it’s usually safest to move calmly toward the edge of the crowd rather than pushing through the centre. This means you can still participate but can exit more easily and keep an eye on what is happening without becoming caught up in a scuffle (if one occurs).

Trust your instincts

If at any point you feel unsafe, trust your instincts. Move away from the situation and seek a safer location. Stay with trusted friends or adults and avoid becoming isolated. If this is your first time protesting, think about going with a trusted adult.

If you are distressed, injured or frightened, seek assistance from event marshals, security personnel, police or emergency services. They are there to help you, not judge you.

Also, remember you do not have to stay. Leaving a demonstration is always an acceptable choice if you feel uncomfortable. Looking after your physical and emotional wellbeing is more important than remaining in a situation that feels unsafe. Don’t wait until you feel so uncomfortable it’s hard to make a decision on whether to stay or leave.

Participating in public events can be an important learning experience for young people. By preparing well, staying aware of your surroundings, and knowing when to seek help, you and other young people can engage safely and confidently in civic life.

Alison Hutton, Professor of Nursing, Western Sydney University

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In August 1901 Robert Scott, Ernest Shackleton and more than 40 other men set sail to Antarctica for the first time. On their newly built ship, the Discovery, neither Scott nor Shackleton knew what to expect, nor whether they would come back alive. It was on this journey, the 1901 to 1904 Discovery Expedition, that both men became famous polar explorers.

Yet 125 years later, this expedition does not receive the attention it deserves. Scott and Shackleton’s later journeys attract far greater interest, particularly Scott’s dramatic death on the return from the South Pole in 1912 and Shackleton’s heroic leadership following the sinking of the Endurance in the Weddell Sea in November 1915. In my new book, I place the Discovery Expedition centre stage and show the important role it played in the careers of Scott and Shackleton and in Britain’s understanding of Antarctica.

The Discovery Expedition, officially the National Antarctic Expedition, was the first major British expedition to the southern continent since James Clark Ross’s landmark British Antarctic Expedition of 1839 to 1843. This previous expedition was conducted aboard HMS Erebus and HMS Terror, both of which would go on to be involved in the tragic Franklin expedition to the Arctic in 1845.

Organised by the Royal Geographical Society and the Royal Society, and partly funded by the government, the Discovery Expedition sought to explore both the coastline and the interior of Antarctica. Most of the crew were from the Royal Navy and few had any previous experience of polar exploration. This was due to the influence of the Royal Geographical Society’s president, Clements Markham, a former naval man himself.

After leaving Britain in August 1901 and stopping in South Africa and New Zealand, the expedition arrived in Antarctica in January 1902. Once there, the explorers conducted a maritime exploration of the Ross Ice Shelf roughly due south of New Zealand, discovering King Edward VII Land at its eastern end. They then established their winter quarters in McMurdo Sound, the southernmost navigable body of water in the world.

In spring, after spending the winter aboard their now ice-bound ship, Scott ordered the start of an ambitious programme of polar sledging. The most famous of these journeys was an attempt to reach the South Pole by Scott, Shackleton and Edward Wilson, a medical doctor who was a close confidante of Scott’s. They travelled farther south than anyone before them, but their sledge dogs soon weakened, and the men suffered from scurvy and food shortages. Meanwhile, Albert Armitage, second in command of the expedition after Scott, led a major sledging expedition up the Ferrar Glacier, finding the Polar Plateau at its summit.

In early 1903, the explorers were resupplied by a relief ship. Scott ordered that Shackleton return home with a group of sailors on the resupply vessel. Shackleton had suffered severe physical collapse and scurvy symptoms during the southern journey, and Scott thought he was not up to another winter in Antarctica. Shackleton spent some time in New Zealand before returning to Britain in June 1903.

Those who remained on board the Discovery had to spend a second, unplanned winter in the south, as the sea ice surrounding their ship failed to break up. The following summer, Scott used his additional time on the continent to embark on another series of sledge journeys. He led a further expedition to the Polar Plateau and discovered the surreal landscapes of the McMurdo Dry Valleys on his return march.

Soon after Scott returned to the Discovery, two relief ships arrived with orders to bring the explorers home, even if this meant abandoning the vessel. At first, the ship’s prospects looked hopeless, but almost miraculously the ice around it began to break up and, with some help from explosives, the Discovery was able to sail northwards in February 1904.

What are the legacies of the expedition?

The Discovery Expedition made numerous geographical discoveries, mapping large areas of Antarctica. On the scientific front, the explorers collected a wealth of zoological and geological specimens, alongside extensive meteorological and magnetic data. Data collected during this period is still proving valuable to contemporary scientists seeking to understand how sea ice coverage around Antarctica has changed.

The aspect of the expedition that most captured public attention was the suffering and heroism displayed during Scott, Wilson and Shackleton’s journey towards the South Pole. By travelling farther south than any human before them, they demonstrated that long-distance Antarctic sledging was possible and that, with better supplies, equipment and draught animals, reaching the South Pole might well be achievable. The race to the South Pole was now on.

Shackleton’s early departure from the expedition also left him eager to lead another expedition to prove his strength and resilience. Scott and Shackleton had worked together as comrades and remained on good terms for some years afterwards. But the expedition also sowed the seeds of future rivalry between the two men. Shackleton eventually launched his own expedition in 1907, much to Scott’s annoyance.

Scott and Shackleton’s first journey to Antarctica shaped the composition of their later journeys. When they returned, both men recruited Discovery veterans, many of them working-class sailors and seamen. This included Frank Wild, Tom Crean and Edgar Evans. None of them would have become explorers without Markham’s insistence that the expedition be crewed by naval men. Their stories are every bit as interesting and eventful as those of the officers and scientists.

The Discovery Expedition also shaped how we understand Antarctic heroism. Without it, British exploration in Antarctica might have been led by more experienced scientists and polar travellers rather than men like Scott and Shackleton who had to learn on the job. In some respects, this might have produced better scientific results and less suffering. However, stories of professionalism, preparedness and skill grip the imagination much less than those of heroism and sacrifice; so this period of exploration likely wouldn’t have the same lasting fascination.

If this expedition has gripped your imagination, then you can actually go and see the Discovery. After the expedition, it was sold to the Hudson’s Bay Company, a fur trading company. Amazingly, after numerous changes of ownership, the ship is still with us today, and visitors can even step aboard her at Discovery Point in Dundee, Scotland. Thanks to the hard work of the team preserving the vessel, it is still possible to gain some sense of what life must have been like for Scott, Shackleton and their companions on that first daring voyage to Antarctica.

This article features references to books that have been included for editorial reasons, and may contain links to bookshop.org. If you click on one of the links and go on to buy something, The Conversation UK may earn a commission.

Ed Armston-Sheret, Fellow at the Institute of Historical Research, School of Advanced Study, University of London

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Chinese Australian actor Christopher Chung takes on a lead romantic role in the new Netflix adaptation of Miles Franklin’s classic 1901 Australian novel, My Brilliant Career.

Chung plays Harry Beecham, the handsome and wealthy suitor of the novel’s protagonist and narrator, Sybylla Melvyn.

Teenage Sybylla – who Franklin modelled on herself – is the headstrong daughter of a once-prosperous British Australian farming family who have fallen on hard times.

In a dramatic change from the original novel, Chung’s Harry is Chinese – or, more accurately, he is of mixed Chinese and European heritage, as is the actor himself.

To some viewers, this might seem anachronistic. But it could very well have happened in Australia at the turn of the last century.

Chinese Australians in the past

At the time My Brilliant Career is set, official statistics tell us there were around 33,000 Chinese people in Australia.

While they made up less than 1% of the total population, Chinese people – both immigrant and Australian-born – were part of many rural and urban communities, particularly in the eastern states of New South Wales, Queensland and Victoria.

The large majority of Australia’s Chinese population were men, as had been the case since the gold-rush decades of the mid-19th century. Social, cultural, legal and economic factors restricted the emigration of Chinese women at that time.

Among those counted as “Chinese” in official statistics were Australians of mixed Chinese-European heritage. Known in the racist language of the time as “half-caste Chinese”, they numbered about 3,000 in 1901, mostly the children of white mothers and Chinese fathers.

One such family was the Ah Poo (later Harper) family.

China-born George Gwok Ah Poo married Emma Ann Lowe at Terara, south of Sydney, in 1875.

He was a goldminer turned market gardener and orchardist. The couple had nine children born between 1877 and 1894.

Their eldest surviving daughter, Lily May, was born in 1880. She married another Chinese immigrant, Henry Fine Chong, at Parramatta in 1896.

White women and Chinese men

Intimate relationships between white women and Chinese men were part of the story of Chinese migration to Australia from its beginnings.

The earliest known Chinese settler, John Shying, arrived in Sydney in 1818 and married twice in NSW.

First he married English-born Sarah Jane Thompson at Parramatta in 1823. After Sarah’s death, he married Irish-born Bridget Gillorley in 1842, also at Parramatta.

John and Sarah Shying had four sons, and their descendants celebrated the bicentennial of John Shying’s arrival in Sydney in 2018.

The exact number of Chinese-European relationships in colonial Australia is difficult to know, but estimates by historians put the number of legal marriages between white women and Chinese men in NSW and Victoria during the 19th century at more than 1,000.

Many more relationships were never sanctioned by marriage, including long-term de facto partnerships, short-term cohabitation, casual liaisons and prostitution.

The best known Chinese-European couple from that time is probably tea merchant and philanthropist Quong Tart and his English-born wife, Margaret née Scarlett.

They married in Sydney in 1886 (against her father’s wishes), had four girls and two boys, and lived in a lavishly decorated mansion, “Gallop House”, in the Sydney suburb of Ashfield.

In 1911, Margaret Tart published a biography of her remarkable husband.

Stereotypes and racial anxieties

For three decades I have been working alongside descendants and family historians to uncover the stories of these Chinese-European couples and their families, hoping to better understand their place in Australian history.

When I first began my doctoral research in the late 1990s, I encountered persistent stereotypes about these families, both in my historical sources and in published histories.

In the mid-19th century, Chinese-European relationships in the Australian colonies were initially viewed as a curiosity by journalists and politicians, who were mostly white, male and middle class.

As the (albeit small) numbers of interracial relationships grew, white colonists who opposed Chinese immigration accused Chinese men of “seducing” and “corrupting” white girls.

In parliaments and in the press – for example, the notoriously racist Bulletin – opponents to Chinese immigration discussed interracial relationships as an example of Chinese “immorality”, an unwelcome “vice” alongside gambling and opium use.

The same journalists and politicians characterised white women who partnered with Chinese men as being illiterate, degraded and desperate. Why else would they choose a Chinese lover or husband?

Ideas of Australia as a white man’s country solidified at the end of the 19th century. Contemporary literature, the press and parliamentarians voiced fears of the creation of a “piebald race” – a derogatory term for those of mixed racial heritage.

But Australia never prohibited relationships between white women and Chinese men by law, as happened in the United States, where 15 states made it illegal for Chinese and white people to marry between 1850 and 1950.

Telling different stories

Today, many can trace their heritage back to a Chinese ancestor, or two or three, who arrived in Australia in the 19th century.

The revelation of Chinese heritage can be a surprise. Some mixed-race families chose to hide their non-European ancestry during the difficult White Australia decades of the early 20th century.

The reimagining of My Brilliant Career with a Chinese Australian romantic lead and a love story that crosses racial boundaries reflects a previously hidden reality of colonial Australia.

Kate Bagnall, Senior Lecturer in Humanities, University of Tasmania

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