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It’s that time of year when students are waiting for school and university results that could change the course of their lives.

Uncertain waiting periods are among our most emotionally challenging experiences. In fact, research shows students are more stressed while waiting for their results than after finding out they have failed. This is because dealing with an uncertain situation is more stressful than dealing with a known negative outcome.

In our new research, we investigated how students can best approach this often agonising time.

Our research

We followed 101 university psychology students in Belgium receiving results that determined whether they could continue their degree.

We surveyed students ten times a day over two periods. We surveyed for two and a half days before they had their results, because previous research suggests uncertainty is hardest immediately before finding out outcomes. We then surveyed for six and a half days after results were received, because strong emotional responses can last several days.

We used a method called “experience sampling”, which involves sending short surveys repeatedly each day. These were done via smartphone.

Every survey, students used a slider scale to tell us how strongly they were feeling four positive (for example, “proud”, “happy”) and six negative (for example, “disappointed”, “anxious”) emotions. We asked questions such as: “right now, how anxious do you feel about your results?”.

Students also used a slider scale to indicate how much they used six common strategies to manage their feelings (for example, distracting yourself, accepting your feelings, or rethinking the situation). We then tested which strategies predicted better emotional outcomes both during the wait, and after results were known.

What to avoid

We found there are strategies students should avoid while they wait for results. These strategies are associated with stronger negative emotion when used in the waiting period. Two takeaway findings include:

1. Don’t reframe the situation before you know what it is

When managing stress, one generally helpful strategy is reappraisal, which involves rethinking an emotional situation to reduce its impact. For example, a student might interpret failure as a learning opportunity.

Surprisingly, we found the more students reappraised while they waited, the worse they felt. For example, a student thinking “if I fail, I can learn from it”.

But we found the more students reappraised after they received their grades, the better they felt. Reappraisal seems to only help after knowing your grades, when there is a concrete outcome to rethink.

2. Take care with how you share

When feeling bad, people often share their emotions with others. For example, a student might share their worries with a friend.

But the more students in our study shared their emotions with others while waiting for their results, the worse they felt. This may be because students are sharing to vent or complain, leading to a downward spiral. It also could be that students share with friends who are also worried, and their friends’ feelings compound their anxiety.

What can you do instead?

We found students who accepted their emotions as they were, without judgement, felt more positive during the wait. This strategy also worked well after students learned their results, regardless or what they were. This suggests acceptance is a consistently helpful approach.

Research suggests when we accept our emotions, they lose their power. In accepting our emotions, we confront the reality of the situation and let our feelings run their natural course, rather than swimming against the tide.

How can you accept your emotions?

You can practise acceptance in three steps:

1. notice and label your feelings. For example, “I’m feeling anxious” or “angry” or “ashamed”

2. experience these feelings fully, even if they are negative. Don’t try to control, diminish, or avoid them

3. don’t judge these feelings. Recognise they are normal and valid. For example, you might think, “I feel really anxious about my results, but that’s reasonable and OK”.

Acceptance may feel counterintuitive, but our research shows it can help students navigate that long and anxious wait for results.

Elise Kalokerinos, Senior Lecturer in Psychology, The University of Melbourne and Ella Moeck, Lecturer, School of Psychology, University of Adelaide

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

Year 12 exams are finishing around Australia and celebrations are beginning. Thousands of students will mark the end of high school in coming weeks with “schoolies”.

This is an important rite of passage for many young Australians. About 20,000 school leavers are expected to party at Surfers Paradise in one of the main schoolies celebrations. Other festivals are planned for Lorne in Victoria, Victor Harbor in South Australia, Byron Bay in New South Wales, Bali and Fiji.

I am an expert in young people’s health and safety at large-scale events. What steps can you take to stay safe at schoolies and make sure you have a great time?

1. Plan ahead

Having a plan can reduce stress and help keep everyone on track.

Know where you’ll be staying and how you’ll get there and back from the main events. Check to see if there are free bus services and how to access them.

The schoolies websites can also help you plan where to get food, water, charge your phones and seek medical help.

2. Plan what you bring

Don’t take too many valuables. When you’re thinking about your outfit, think about where you phone will go so it is safe. A bum bag can be a great way to keep things secure.

Believe it or not the main reasons for using the medical tent is twists and sprains of ankles and cuts and blisters from shoes – so take comfortable footwear that is good for dancing and walking around.

3. Stay in groups

You will have already decided who you are going to hang out before you go. So stick with your friends and look out for each other. Avoid going anywhere alone, especially at night, and always organise a meet up spot if you do get separated or your phone dies.

Before you go, talk with friends about how you will support each other. Is someone designated as a non-drinker for the evening? Do you want to organise an hourly check-in on a group chat?

4. Stay in safe places

Only attend official events and parties. These areas are well lit and there is security and medical assistance available if you or your friends need it.

5. Know your limits

Think about how many drinks you can have beforehand – understand your limits and carry some water and snacks.

If you are feeling like you need a rest, you could try the nearest chill out tent. It’s a great way to make new friends and there are free drinks and snacks

If you are considering taking pills, go and visit the drug checking site. Drug checking is free and confidential and will let you know what you are taking to stay safe.

What if something scary or unexpected happens?

There are peer-support programs at schoolies to help you if you are upset or stressed.

On the Gold Coast, you can look out for Red Frogs or the Schoolies Support Team, who are there to support young people at events where alcohol is consumed.

In South Australia, there is the Green Team, who are young people from Christian backgrounds. The Green Team will stay with you while you are looking for your friends, walk you back to your tent and they know where all the free eating spots are.

In main schoolies areas there will also be police walking around and security guards, depending on the event. All of these people are there to give judgment-free support – so you will not get into trouble if you ask for help for yourself or one of your friends.

If a friend gets too drunk or has taken something and needs support, take them to a quieter spot with good lighting and stay with them. If you can, get someone else to go and find some help from the medical tent. Try and lay your friend on their side so that they can vomit, especially if they are passed out. Don’t try and give them water or more to drink, just make sure they are comfortable while someone is getting help.

If something scary happens – yell out and try and attract attention. Move into a well lit place if you can. Remember to trust your instincts and find a safe place.

Once you feel safe, tell event staff or police what happened – it helps them to look out and make sure it doesn’t happen again. You can also call 000 at any time.

Remember, schoolies is your event. With some simple planning you can make it a week you will always remember for the best reasons.

Alison Hutton, Professor of Nursing, Western Sydney University

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

It is a new idea to many Australians that their past is connected to the tragic history of transatlantic slavery.

Some aspects of this relationship have begun to be uncovered: for instance when Britain abolished slavery in its Caribbean colonies – places such as Jamaica, Barbados, Trinidad and Grenada – it struck a deal with the slave-owners to pay them £20m compensation for the loss of their human “property”.

An online database hosted by The Centre for the Study of the Legacies of British Slavery allows anyone to search for the individuals and companies that benefited from this money. New historical research has traced the extensive investments of this compensation in the settler colonies of Australasia.

Review: Black Convicts: How slavery shaped Australia – Santilla Chingaipe (Scribner)

Along with capital, investors brought knowledge and attitudes – how to grow sugar in Queensland, for example, using techniques developed on slave plantations in British Guiana.

Likewise, British military forces violently quelled slave rebellion in the Caribbean and then travelled to Australia, where they applied the same techniques of violent punishment against First Nations Australians. Using biographical and genealogical methods, many stories are also tracking the movement of people from Caribbean slave-worked colonies to places such as Australia, New Zealand and Canada.

But this is frequently a top-down view, reflecting the continuing imbalance of power, recorded evidence, and prejudices flowing from this unequal past. In her new book, award-winning filmmaker Santilla Chingaipe sets out to explore links to slavery and their legacies from another direction, focusing on Black convicts of African descent.

Ambitiously, and “with much urgency” she also aims to investigate how hierarchies of race, class and gender came to be in the Australian justice system.

Chingaipe began this journey in 2018 after visiting an exhibition about the colonisation of Australia. It mentioned at the start that Africans were among the first arrivals here – but did not further explore this history.

She undertook her own research about men of African descent on the First Fleet and in colonial Australia. “What I was not expecting,” she writes, “was for quite literally hundreds of non-white people from across the British Empire to reveal themselves in the archives.”

Her publisher tells us that Black Convicts “builds on” and takes further “Chingaipe’s critically acclaimed and award-winning [2021] documentary Our African Roots”. While not a professional historian, Chingaipe undertook study in history to acquire the tools she needed to research and tell this story.

Narrowing her focus to convicts – and consequently the convict colonies of New South Wales and Van Diemens Land – Chingaipe engages with a “handful of scholarly accounts” and archival sources, as well as drawing from newspaper accounts, radio interviews, and websites in producing her “collection of transatlantic stories”.

She is also critical of some previous historians in this field, singling out award-winning writer and historian Cassandra Pybus for her use of “racialized language and stereotyping” in writing about certain Black subjects. As a Zambian-born Australian, Chingaipe seeks to write something “beyond” history that might “act as a partial corrective to the epistemic violence of these narratives” and to help “us see these people as more than commodities and convicts”.

However Chingaipe’s aim to counter the misrepresentations of previous accounts perhaps leads her to overlook or deny existing scholarship, with some ill effects. Early in the book she states, “I have been able to conclusively identify at least ten people of African descent” who were convicts on the First Fleet, based on their archival description.

These are John Moseley, John Caesar, John Coffin, John Randall, John Martin, Daniel Gordon, John Williams, Black Jemmy Williams, Thomas Orford and Samuel Chinnery.

This misleadingly gives the impression that no one had done so before her – yet all of these figures have been previously researched and written about by historians, notably in Pybus’ 2006 Black Founders and Mollie Gillen’s 1989 The Founders of Australia: A Biographical Dictionary of the First Fleet.

Indeed almost all are subjects of online biographies published by the Australian Dictionary of Biography or People Australia. In “correcting” previous biases I believe it is important not to introduce new ones.

In places, this partial engagement with conventional historiography shallows Chingaipe’s analysis: for example, the case of Mauritian convict Eugene Doucette who in 1848 helped arrest a First Nations man has been researched by Queensland historian Libby Connors, who noted his friendship with Noonuccal man Bobby Winter and his acceptance by the Noonuccal at Amity Point on Minjerribah (Stradbroke Island).

Connors pointed out that Doucette’s and Winter’s arrest of another First Nations man “was probably a product of traditional law” as much as British colonial justice". Her analysis opens up our understanding of the sophistication and underlying logic of First Nations law rather than seeing these events through the colonisers’ lens.

A fresh perspective

These limitations aside, Chingaipe brings a fresh and urgent perspective to bear on Australian history, re-telling many stirring, surprising, captivating moments of encounter or Black experience. Over much of the book, reflecting its foundation in her documentary film, she adopts a movie-like method of gleaning a crucial point or argument from the work of an established historian, whom she then interviews or takes to visit a historical site.

This technique enlivens her narrative and links it to the present, as she literally travels from places such as the ruins of Fort Dundas in the Tiwi Islands, where a disproportionate number of Black convicts were sent in 1824, to rowing across Sydney Harbour in a boat like that of ferryman William (“Billy”) Blue.

Born into slavery in the United States, Blue became a soldier in the British army. In London in 1796 he was sentenced to transportation for stealing sugar. In Sydney he married white convict Elizabeth Williams and they had six children together. As harbour watchman and ferryman, Blue became well-known and is still remembered through landmarks such as Blues Point.

This book is perhaps best appreciated as a film rendered in words, and is no less powerful for being so.

‘Ugly truths’

With a bowerbird eye Chingaipe looks again at our seemingly well-known, White-dominated past to show Black people as active and indeed integral participants across the colonial period.

For example, she examines the status of Black emancipist John Johnstone as a perpetrator of the 1838 Myall Creek Massacre of Wirrayaraay people in New South Wales.

Johnstone was of African descent, born in Liverpool, Britain, and was transported to New South Wales in 1829. Chingaipe points out that

to presume Johnstone’s actions could be predicted from the colour of his skin is exactly the sort of blindness this book sets out to challenge.

As her account shows, by the time of the massacre, Johnstone had spent a decade on the violent frontier, his shifting status as victim/perpetrator shattering the binary view of colonial race relations.

In telling her cinematic stories, Chingaipe raises numerous topics and places, threading together Africa, the Caribbean, Mauritius, and the Australian colonies. Her book shows how themes such as water, sugar, capital, labour, Black protest and resistance, the survival of African religious beliefs, and the experience of Black women and children weave through Australian history, embedding it within global processes.

One revealing life journey is that of Robert James, born in 1809 in Barbados, and transported for the rape of a white woman. He made a life for himself in Hobart, where he married Lucinda, a woman from St Helena, their marriage witnessed by two other Black convicts, Thomas and Mary Jane Burrows.

The couple opened a lodging house in Collins Street, which was seemingly a haven for Black people, and James died at a venerable 86. Their friends, the Burrows family were not so fortunate. Their son Francis Burrows’ story is especially confronting.

Aged ten, Francis was living with a white farmer, ominously named Charles Slaughter, charged with looking after his cattle. Following continued mistreatment and abuse Francis died in late 1859. Slaughter was exonerated of murder. As Chingaipe comments, “it’s hard not to feel that” this injustice “had something to do with Francis being Black”.

While underlying structures linking slavery and colonisation remain implicit, as collective biography these empathetic stories build up a picture of Black experience across diverse contexts and moments.

Clearly-written, with a frequently poignant turn of phrase, the result is a fresh and compelling account of Chingaipe’s journey of discovery, that carries the reader along with her.

Foregrounding her Black perspective on a seemingly well-known narrative, Chingaipe achieves her aim to ask “us, as Australians, to confront some of the ugly truths of our history”.

Jane Lydon, Wesfarmers Chair of Australian History, The University of Western Australia

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

So-called “comedy” podcasts have huge followings, but who gets to say they’re actually funny? Stellar “comedy” hosts such as Joe Rogan have never made me laugh, while other prominent comedians package abrasive political commentary rather than rib-tickling humour.

The Ambies, a glitzy event that aspires to be the “Oscars of podcasting”, describes the comedy category as “a podcast that is intentionally humorous”.

But hey, results can fall far short of intentions.

Yes, humour is subjective and often cultural. With those caveats, here’s a selection of podcasts old and new that made this female, Irish-born boomer laugh and/or lean in.

1. Diversity Work

This squirmingly listenable Diversity Work “invites you into a television writers’ room embroiled in a social media storm”, making you a fly on the wall at the most mordant workshop ever.

Turns out these writers have been hired by a TV executive, the “accurately named Steve White”, who impulsively “rebutted any accusations of -isms” by inventing a coming show that “ticked all the diversity boxes”.

A clutch of creatives are hastily conscripted to cover a range of minorities, from First Nations to disability to queer to people of colour.

The podcast charts their efforts to devise a pitch that will both advance diversity and get funding from the entitled straight white folk upstairs.

This somewhat earnest premise yields the most delicious skewering of tokenistic attempts by mainstream media to be more inclusive.

Management posts a pic of their prized cohort – but a filter darkens the skin tones of light-skinned Indigenous participants.

On it goes, lurching from cringe-inducing to savage satire, the startlingly real-sounding discussions overlaid with a reflective narrator:

It’s not often we get to speak at this level of nuance and complexity, as we’re often having to censor ourselves to be diplomatic, or spend our time educating others in the room.

It’s a tribute to all that I could not tell for several episodes if I was listening to fact or fiction.

Turns out it’s a hybrid, created, directed and edited by Asian Australian artist Pearl Tan, and co-created using long-form improvisation with nine screen practitioners “with lived experience of the challenges of being from a diverse background in the screen industry”.

Awkwardly hilarious.

2. Normal Gossip

Normal Gossip shares “juicy, utterly banal gossip about people you’ll never know”, sent in by listeners.

Take this episode, in which host Kelsey McKinney and comedian Josh Gondelman (a perfect foil) discuss the unfolding relationship of a young couple, complicated by the boyfriend’s bro flatmate.

They unpick the reality behind a padlocked fridge and zip-tied cupboards, delving into real time text messages as a party reaches crisis point.

Playing down her smarts (she’s written for Vogue, Vanity Fair and more), McKinney goes for an enthusiastic/empathetic tone that allows us to vicariously enjoy the show’s vast array of predicaments, from the vagaries of upscale dog grooming to a girls’ trip gone horribly wrong.

3. Heavyweight

Heavyweight is also preoccupied with the foibles of life, but via a very different format.

Host Jonathan Goldstein is a superb audio storyteller, whose deceptively simple premise is to dig into the life-changing moments that have preoccupied listeners.

It could be an artist obsessed with painting his ex-wife, a jury member haunted by sentencing a man to death, a man meeting the driver who ran him over to thank him.

Always avoiding cheesiness (being Canadian helps), Goldstein teases out the story till it reveals some bigger truth or catharsis, making you laugh or cry along the way – sometimes both.

Every episode is a masterclass in writing and editing for audio, done so well it feels effortless.

4. The Blindboy Podcast

“Blindboy”, the host of The Blindboy Podcast, is a polymath Irishman with a degree in activist art who wears a plastic bag over his head to avoid being identified at his increasingly popular public performances.

His almost 400 episodes to date ramble across a category-defying range, from a rumination on a wasp buzzing round a plane to the origins of offices to a philosophical discourse on the history of pigeons, or the unsuspected nexus between food poisoning and anti-Irish discrimination.

The show includes interviews, readings of his short stories and open discussion of his own anxiety and mental health issues (he was recently diagnosed with autism).

But it’s Blindboy’s brilliant capacity to extemporise on a bewildering range of topics in a classic Irish nonlinear storytelling mode, lavishly garlanded with expletives that sound as natural as poetry, that captivates.

5. Tim Key and Gogol’s Overcoat

Whimsical and delightful, the short Tim Key and Gogol’s Overcoat from the BBC is a beautifully wrought mash-up of fiction and documentary.

Host Key, a real life comedian and scholar of Russian literature, sets out to understand the mysteries of the 19th-century writer’s anarchic short story, The Overcoat. The narrator’s deadpan humour mimics the absurdist author’s takedown of the Tsarist bureaucracy he detested.

A gem that shows how innovative audio can be, outside the ubiquitous podcast chat format. For other one-off podcasts, try the three-minute storytelling from Audio Flux, a creative mini-fest of quirky personal moments.

Siobhan McHugh, Honorary Associate Professor, Journalism, Consulting Producer, The Greatest Menace, Walkley-winning podcast, University of Wollongong

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

In 1969, Austrian-American writer Peter Drucker foretold a major societal and economic shift driven by knowledge. However, it would not be until the 1990s that scholars, managers, management consultants and policy-makers would herald the arrival of the knowledge economy, whereby goods and services depend not just on labour but on competencies, skills and ideas. As knowledge became recognised as the most valuable organisational and economic resource, the urge to manage it followed.

Management scholars, consultants and managers alike were quick to identify the main challenge of knowledge management. As long as knowledge resided in individual minds, it was hard for managers to control.

This shaped the agenda of knowledge management, which relied extensively on codification or otherwise capturing knowledge into a written or storeable form like a manual or guide that could then be managed.

To the knowledge manager, the fact “we can know more than we can tell” (as Hungarian-British polymath Michael Polanyi put it in 1966) is not particularly problematic. All that needs to be extrapolated from the individual mind is the set of general rules and procedures that allow a person to get a job done.

When Julian E. Orr’s book Talking about Machines: An Ethnography of a Modern Job was published in 1996, it provided an important new perspective – a worker-centric alternative to the manager-focussed view of knowledge that until that point had been gaining a foothold in academia and in practice. It achieved this by launching a two-pronged assault on the central tenets of knowledge management.

Firstly, it exposed the limited usefulness of things such as manuals, instructions, guides or procedures in enabling competent action.

Secondly, and more fundamentally, it demonstrated that managers are often too dissociated from the work they manage to grasp the knowledge that is needed to work competently. Orr documented the experiences of Xerox photocopier technicians to demonstrate how the knowledge that allowed them to do their jobs well is not found in the service manuals they were provided with.

What made this assault particularly effective was Orr’s own background. His research experience as an anthropologist, his prior technician training in the army, and his own employment at Xerox, enabled him to describe the work of service technicians in vivid detail, often in the language the workers themselves use.

The manager’s urge to control

On the surface, the book depicted the failure of the manual that Xerox service technicians were expected to use when they fixed photocopiers. Some of the prescribed procedures simply did not work. The ones that did resolved problems that were so routine to technicians that there was no need for them to consult the manual.

Having said that, the manual did have some utility, even though the technicians denied it any credibility. They can be useful when technicians do not know where to start but become worthless as soon as they understand the state of the machine they are facing. The reason for this is that they do not contain the knowledge needed to get the job done.

Instead, this knowledge circulates informally within the technician community, alongside knowledge of what spare parts might come in handy, which management also sought to control via personal inventory restrictions.

Welcome to our series on key titles that have helped shape business and the economy – as suggested by Conversation writers. We have avoided the Marxes and Smiths, since you’ll know plenty about them already. The series covers everything from demographics to cutting-edge tech, so stand by for some essential reading.

At a fundamental level, Orr’s book is about the insatiable managerial desire for control, often over whatever is currently regarded as the key to organisational prosperity. A thirst so primal that, as was the case at Xerox, management may quench it without fully understanding what they are managing.

Not only did Xerox’s management fail to grasp what knowledge it took to fix a photocopier, it also failed to create an effective means of becoming aware of it. Technicians were at the very least unaware of official channels for sharing what they learned in the field. Among technicians, knowledge continued to circulate simply because they shared a job and a sense of community built around it. Rather than knowledge about fixing photocopiers, Xerox’s service manual embedded managerial ignorance.

While we should always be wary of managerial efforts to create the likes of guides and manuals, nowadays we must also be fearful of management deploying artificial intelligence (AI), both to replace and assist workers.

As with the Xerox photocopier service manual, whether it adds value depends on how well managers understand what must be known to get a job done.

Most people would struggle to draw a clear distinction between “knowledge” and “intelligence” (unless they ask AI for an answer).

At a basic level, it can be argued that AI is more knowledgeable. In fact, since it does not share our cognitive limitations, it can be immeasurably more knowledgeable than us. That’s why the promise of the productivity gains it offers is remarkably alluring.

However, our cognitive limitations, and the irrational instincts, emotional attachments and personal beliefs they make room for, give human knowledge a distinctive flavour.

As with Xerox service technicians, our limitations enable us to act well in situations where getting the job done rests on creativity, ignorance or simply taking our chances, sometimes against the established wisdom and general rules. This being the case, Orr’s cautionary tale – that attempts to manage knowledge can be at best futile or at worst a hindrance – remains as relevant as ever. Sometimes knowledge should just be allowed to flow on its own.

Wojciech Kwiatkowski, Lecturer in Business and Management, School of Business and Creative Industries, University of the West of Scotland

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

Kate Bush’s visionary 1985 concept album, Hounds of Love, was the second she had produced on her own (after The Dreaming in 1982), and the first recorded in her own studio.

It sounded strikingly original for its time. A work of progressive pop that blended elements of experimental electronica, art rock, folk, chamber music and cinematic atmospheres into something new and aesthetically distinct.

Bush embraced digital sampling using the pioneering audio workstation, Fairlight CMI. Side A yielded a string of immaculate top 40 hits: Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God), Cloudbusting, Hounds of Love and The Big Sky. Side B contained a seven-part song cycle called The Ninth Wave, an immersive nightmare-scape that invited the listener to empathise with the near-death experiences of a woman lost at sea.

Today the album is universally considered a classic. It’s one of the defining high watermarks for pop production in the 1980s, produced during a time when few female music creators had access to high-tech recording equipment and facilities.

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I have been researching Bush’s creative process for a new book I’ve written about Hounds of Love as part of the book publisher Bloomsbury’s 33 1/3 series, in which each title is about a single music album. Learning about how she held on to her creative autonomy, advocating for herself, her ideas and preferred ways of working while strategically navigating the male-dominated music industry has been inspirational.

According to the annual Inclusion in the Recording Studio report, the number of female producers has risen from 3.5% last year to 6.5% today. It’s difficult to know what the gender gap was in the mid-80s, but we can safely assume it was no better.

As a producer, Bush’s importance and influence cannot be overstated. Her work inspired generations of marginalised artists to seize control of production as a means of expressing complex ideas.

In a 2022 interview with Pitchfork, the Icelandic singer-songwriter and composer Björk said: “In the 80s Bush was the only thing. It was her who was doing that. Everything else was patriarchy … she was the producer, she was making the environment she was singing in.”

Bush’s commercial success cleared a path for women in pop to be taken more seriously as creators. As singer-songwriter Imogen Heap told the Standard in 2014: “Kate produced some truly outstanding music in an era dominated by men and gave us gals a licence to not just be ‘a bird who could sing and write a bit’, which was the attitude of most execs.”

Beyond being a pioneer by virtue of her gender and achievements, Bush’s working methods, established when creating Hounds of Love and pretty much in place ever since, also disprove some commonly held assumptions about music creativity.

The tortured artist myth

In an interview in 1992, Bush said that making Hounds of Love “was the happiest I’ve been compared to making other albums … I know that there’s a theory that goes around that you must suffer for your art … I don’t believe this.”

The “tortured artist” is a pervasive trope in music discourse, from Beethoven and Robert Schumann to Kurt Cobain and Amy Winehouse. It is perpetuated in popular culture in films like Whiplash (2014) and A Star Is Born (2018).

In 2011, Wilco frontman Jeff Tweedy called the concept a “damaging mythology”, one that had interfered with his own recovery from periods of mental illness and addiction. That Bush created some of her strongest works while in a happy, comfortable state, helps bust this dangerous myth that trauma is a necessary component of compelling artistry.

Another creative myth, particularly associated with studio-based music making, is that the best stuff comes out fast. Like The White Stripes, who conjured Seven Nation Army during a soundcheck, or Stevie Nicks, who poured out Fleetwood Mac’s hit Dreams in about ten minutes, winning ideas can strike from the flow state like lightning.

But hiring a big studio to experiment and see what happens was never Bush’s preferred mode. As she explained to Melody Maker in 1985: “Knowing the astronomical amount studio time cost used to make me really nervous about being too creative. You can’t experiment forever, and I work very, very slowly. I feel a lot more relaxed emotionally now that I have my own place to work.”

The making of Hounds of Love was a slow, incremental process, not reliant on the collective synergies of group collaboration, but rather on careful, individual selection. Its success reinforces the often-forgotten value of working slowly – that slow work can still engage with our intuitive senses.

Bush spent three years working on the album, and the length of time she spent on projects only grew after that. It took four more years to make The Sensual World (1989), another four for The Red Shoes(1993), a 12-year gap before Aerial (2005), her late masterpiece, was released and another six years before 50 Words For Snow (2011).

In his book Thinking, Fast and Slow (2011), behavioural scientist Daniel Kahneman differentiates between fast and slow cognitive modes. Fast thinking is intuitive and emotional. Slow thinking is mindful and deliberative.

A slow model of creativity makes sense of activities that we might otherwise perceive to be procrastination – think long walks and daydreams. Researchers have suggested that slowness is associated with greater divergent thinking in creative contexts.

In this way, it is revealing when Bush says of Hounds of Love: “I wrote the songs for this album in a tiny room overlooking endless fields. I could see the weather coming for miles.”

Leah Kardos, Senior Lecturer in Music, Kingston University

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

If you were to think about the key to getting fit, you’d probably imagine you need to spend plenty of time in the gym. But many fitness influencers claim that taking time away from the gym every six to eight weeks – known as a “deload week” – is actually the key to improving fitness gains.

Deload weeks mostly involve toning down the intensity of your workouts. These are typically done during periods of heavy training. The express aim of a deload week is to give the body time to recover from the fatigue and damage that can be caused by periods of intense training.

Intense training or high volumes of training cause us to accumulate damage in our muscle tissues. While this damage is an essential part of the process in improving fitness gains, these improvements can only happen if the body has time to recover.

During exercise, muscles can develop tiny tears and their fibres can become disorganised after intense training. This causes an inflammatory response in muscle tissues which requires time in an “unloaded state” (resting or doing low-intensity exercise) to resolve. This inflammation is actually important for promoting positive changes in our muscles – leading to improvements in fitness.

But if we train without adequate rest we can cause the muscle to be in a semi-permanent state of being slightly damaged. The inflammation doesn’t go away – leading to negative changes – such as our muscles being less able to use oxygen efficiently and poor performance.

By allowing our muscles the opportunity to recover we set them up for success.

Risk of overtraining

Many avid gymgoers may be afraid to take time off from the gym for fear it will cause them to lose their gains. But research actually shows that the genes in our muscles contain a memory imprint – effectively holding genes responsible for muscle growth in a semi-prepared state. This means that our muscles are ready to respond quicker and better to training in the future and promote growth after a period of rest.

Even after long periods of time in a deloaded state (up to seven weeks), your muscular fitness can be restored to prime condition – and even beyond, in some cases. This is true even if you’ve lost some muscular strength during this period. Not only that, but your condition can be restored to its prime twice as fast as it took to get to that level in the first place.

Another reason it’s so important to take time off from intense training is because without rest we may develop muscle soreness – and potentially even overtraining syndrome. Overtraining syndrome is a prolonged period of malaise and deconditioning caused by training too much or too intensely without adequate rest. It can take several weeks to months (and in some cases years) to overcome.

The symptoms of overtraining syndrome are fatigue, poorer performance and mood disturbances. These symptoms occur gradually – meaning overtraining syndrome only becomes apparent when you are in its throes. This is why taking care to rest adequately is a vital part of training.

It’s hard to say how common overtraining syndrome is because the symptoms are so vague. Some studies indicate the rate of overtraining syndrome could affect as few as 10% of elite athletes – but the incidence could also be as as high as 60% in the most competitive athletes.

Rest days or deload weeks?

It’s clear that recovery time is important for both fitness and overall health. Any time you are doing a lot of work in the gym, you should make sure you’re scheduling plenty of time to recover in your workout plan.

Deload weeks differ from rest days in that rest days generally incorporate no exercise (or only extremely light exercise) once or twice a week. Deload weeks tend to involve some training, but at a substantially lower intensity than you’re used to – usually doing around 50% fewer workouts than you normally would, or reducing the intensity of your workout by about 20%.

Both rest days and deload weeks help the body to recover from training, which is important for improving your fitness. It is not a case of either/or. For example, if you are undertaking an intense training regime for a marathon, ironman or crossfit competition, you should be scheduling weekly rest days. On top of that, you should also be implementing deload weeks. If you are a recreational gym goer who works out less strenuously around one to three times per week, then the rest you get from this kind of workout schedule will probably be adequate.

Fitness influencers suggest that deload weeks should be included in training schedules every four to eight weeks. This broadly aligns with the expert view of four to six weeks. But, you should schedule in your deload weeks as you need them. If you begin to notice your performance is no longer improving – and maybe even getting worse – it might be time for a deload week.

No training plan should be so strict that you cannot take a step back when you need to. Deload weeks will not only benefit your performance, but also your health.

Daniel Brayson, Lecturer, Life Sciences, University of Westminster

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

At Shrewsbury train station, there is a poster advertising The Cure’s new album, Songs of a Lost World. The confident, monochrome minimalism of the art is at odds with the rambling Victorian brickwork, yet there is a kind of sympathy there also.

At ten on a November morning, the station isn’t the most joyful of locations and so is a suitable home for a record praised for its wintery desolation. The poster helps here.

The cover art features a sculpture called Bagatelle from 1975 by the Slovenian artist Janez Pirna, which the cover’s designer chose because he pictured it “floating in space, almost as a distant relic from a forgotten time”. It also includes a new custom font, called Cureation, which is distressed and austere, and references the font used originally by the band. Like the station, these choices call upon a previous age – a lost world.

Songs of a Lost World is The Cure’s first album in 16 years. Reaching number one in the UK and now the US, some might argue it casts a pall of darkness over the pop charts; others might say it glitters a little in their reflected light. This has always been the way with The Cure.

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On one side of their catalogue, we have what is known as the “unholy trinity” of early albums Seventeen Seconds, Faith and Pornography: alienated, austere, thematically dark. On the other, the shambling psychedelia of The Top and Kiss Me, the latter also featuring the blissed-out pop that helped this quintessentially English band find success in America.

In his recent book Goth: A History, the band’s former drummer Lol Tolhurst charts the genre from its 18th-century literary beginnings to its modern musical incarnation. In it, he describes how The Cure’s sound sits within this history through its unexpected influences, which range from record producer Phil Spector’s “wall of sound”, the production technique behind pop hits for The Ronettes and The Supremes, to the poetry of TS Eliot.

While Tolhurst locates the band’s sound within the gothic, frontman Robert Smith has consistently rejected the label. The difficulty in framing the band and this new album as gothic is that, like The Cure, the gothic has always been made up of contradictions.

Although nostalgic for medievalism, the gothic employs imagery that was called on by the theorist Karl Marx when discussing the alienating effects of modernity, from the “spectre … haunting Europe” in The Communist Manifesto to the “vampire life” of capital in Das Kapital.

Developed in part as a reactionary response to the revolution in France in 1789, it can be politically radical. Patriarchal, yet polymorphously perverse, pared down and baroque, glamorous and gauche, the gothic is an aesthetic devised of opposing forces.

Songs of a Lost World could be seen as a return to the darkness of The Cure’s early material. Take the lead single Alone. The lyrics turn, thematically, on death and isolation. The music has the intensity and sense of glacial doom that speaks to the fatalism and claustrophobia common to novels such as Frankenstein and Confessions of a Justified Sinner, as much as classics from the “unholy trinity” including 100 Years and A Forest.

The song most clearly echoed in Alone, however, is Sinking, from The Cure’s shuffling, electronic masterpiece, The Head on the Door (1985). Both songs are lengthy and stately. They let the listener wait for most of their length before introducing Smith’s brief and despairing vocals. Despite the pared-down instrumentation of both tracks, the sound created has a density that calls upon the “wall of sound” production technique that defined The Cure’s most psychedelic and joyful recordings.

But this pulling between brightness and darkness, “the unholy trinity” and the pop excess of the other half of their catalogue, represents the band’s gothic heart. This is what makes Songs of a Lost World goth and the Cure goth too, whether Smith likes it or not.

Neil Cocks, Associate Professor in the Department of English Literature, University of Reading

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

Sugar addiction is on the rise. Globally, sugar intake has quadrupled over the last 60 years, and it now makes up around 8% of all our calories.

This sounds like sugar’s keeping us fed, but added sugars are actually empty calories – they are bereft of any nutrients like vitamins or fibres. The result is massive health costs, with sugars linked to obesity around the world. Some estimates suggest that half the global population could be obese by 2035.

A limited 20% reduction in sugar is estimated to save US$10.3 billion (£8.1 billion) of health costs in the US alone. Yet, sugar’s impacts go far beyond just health and money.

There are also many environmental problems from growing the sugar, like habitat and biodiversity loss and water pollution from fertilisers and mills. But overall, sugar hasn’t received a lot of attention from the scientific community despite being the largest cultivated crop by mass on the planet.

In a recent article, we evaluated sugar’s environmental impacts and explored avenues for reducing sugar in the diet to recommended levels either through reducing production or using the saved sugar in environmentally beneficial ways.

By phasing out sugar, we could spare land that could be rewilded and stock up on carbon. This is especially important in biodiverse tropical regions where sugar production is concentrated such as Brazil and India. But a different, more politically palatable option might be redirecting sugar away from diets to other environmentally-beneficial uses such as bioplastics or biofuels.

Our study shows that the biggest opportunity is using sugar to feed microbes that make protein. Using saved sugar for this microbial protein could produce enough plant-based, protein-rich food products to regularly feed 521 million people. And if this replaced animal protein it could also have huge emission and water benefits.

We estimate that if this protein replaced chicken, it could reduce emissions by almost 250 million tonnes, and we’d see even bigger savings for replacing beef (for reference, the UK’s national fossil fuel emissions are around 300 million tonnes). Given sugar has a far lower climate impact than meat, this makes a lot of sense.

Another alternative is to use the redirected sugar to produce bioplastics, which would replace around 20% of the total market for polyethelyne, one of the most common forms of plastic and used to produce anything from packaging to pipes. Or to produce biofuels, producing around 198 million barrels of ethanol for transportation.

Brazil already produces around 85% of the world’s ethanol and they produce it from sugar, but instead of having to grow more sugar for ethanol we could redirect the sugar from diets instead. This estimation is based on a world where we reduce dietary sugar to the maximum in dietary recommendations (5% of daily calories). The benefits would be even larger if we reduced sugar consumption even further.

Supply chain challenges

This sounds like a big win-win: cut sugar to reduce obesity and help the environment. But these changes present a huge challenge in a sugar supply chain spanning more than 100 countries and the millions of people that depend on sugar’s income.

National policies like sugar taxes are vital, but having international coordination is also important in such a sprawling supply chain. Sustainable agriculture is being discussed at the UN’s climate summit, Cop29, in Azerbaijan this week. Sustainable sugar production should factor into these global talks given the many environmental problems and opportunities from changing the way we grow and consume sugar.

We also suggest that groups of countries could come together in sugar transition partnerships between producers and consumers that encourage a diversion of sugar away from peoples’ diets to more beneficial uses. This could be coordinated by the World Health Organization which has called for a reduction in sugar consumption. Some of the money to fund these efforts could even come from part of the health savings in national budgets.

We can’t hope to transition the way we produce and eat sugar overnight. But by exploring other uses of sugar, we can highlight what environmental benefits we are missing out on and help policymakers map a resource-efficient path forward to the industry while improving public health.

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Paul Behrens, British Academy Global Professor, Future of Food, Oxford Martin School, University of Oxford and Alon Shepon, Principal Investigator, Department of Environmental Studies, Tel Aviv University

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

This article is part of The Conversation’s “Business Basics” series where we ask experts to discuss key concepts in business, economics and finance.

Thanks to the decisive victory of US President-elect Donald Trump, we’re now set to hear a whole lot more of his favourite word.

It’s something of a love affair. On the campaign trail in October, he said:

To me, the most beautiful word in the dictionary is tariff.

Previously, he’s matched such rhetoric with real policies. When he was last in office, Trump imposed a range of tariffs.

Now set to return to the White House, he wants tariffs of 10-20% on all imports to the US, and tariffs of 60% or more on those from China.

Most of us understand tariffs are some kind of barrier to trade between countries. But how exactly do they work? Who pays them – and what effects can they have on an economy?

What are tariffs?

An import tariff – sometimes called an import duty – is simply a tax on a good or service that is imported into a country. It’s collected by the government of the country importing the product.

How exactly does that work in practice?

Imagine Australia decided to impose a 10% tariff on all imported washing machines from South Korea.

If an Australian consumer or a business wanted to import a $1,200 washing machine from South Korea, they would have to pay the Australian government $120 when it entered the country.

So, everything else being equal, the final price an Australian consumer would end up paying for this washing machine is $1,320.

If a local industry or another country without the tariff could produce a competing good at a similar price, it would have a cost advantage.

Other trade barriers

Because tariffs make imports more expensive, economists refer to them as a trade barrier. They aren’t the only kind.

One other common non-tariff trade barrier is an import quota – a limit on how much of a particular good can be imported into a country.

Governments can also create other non-tariff barriers to trade.

These include administrative or regulatory requirements, such as customs forms, labelling requirements or safety standards that differ across countries.

What are the effects?

Tariffs can have two main effects.

First, they generate tax revenue for the government. This is a major reason why many countries have historically had tariff systems in place.

Borders and ports are natural places to record and regulate what flows into and out of a country. That makes them easy places to impose and enforce taxes.

Second, tariffs raise the cost of buying things produced in other countries. As such, they discourage this action and encourage alternatives, such as buying from domestic producers.

Protecting domestic workers and industries from foreign competition underlies the economic concept of “protectionism”.

The argument is that by making imports more expensive, tariffs will increase spending on domestically produced goods and services, leading to greater demand for domestic workers, and helping a country’s local industries grow.

Swapping producers isn’t always easy

Tariffs may increase the employment and wages of workers in import-competing industries. However, they can also impose costs, and create higher prices for consumers.

True, foreign producers trying to sell goods under a tariff may reduce their prices to remain competitive as exporters, but this only goes so far. At least some of the cost of any tariff imposed by a country will likely be passed on to consumers.

Simply switching to domestic manufacturers likely means paying more. After all, without tariffs, buyers were choosing foreign producers for a reason.

Because they make selling their products in the country less profitable, tariffs also cause some foreign producers to exit the market altogether, which reduces the variety of products available to consumers. Less foreign competition can also give domestic businesses the ability to charge even higher prices.

Lower productivity and risk of retaliation

At an economy-wide level, trade barriers such as tariffs can reduce overall productivity.

That’s because they encourage industries to shift away from producing things for which a country has a comparative advantage into areas where it is relatively inefficient.

They can also artificially keep smaller, less productive producers afloat, while shrinking the size of larger, more productive producers.

Foreign countries may also respond to the tariffs by retaliating and imposing tariffs of their own.

We saw this under Trump’s previous administration, which increased tariffs on about US$350 billion worth of Chinese products between 2018 and 2019.

Several analyses have examined the effects and found it was not foreign producers but domestic consumers – and especially businesses relying on imported goods – that paid the full price of the tariffs.

In addition, the tariffs introduced in 2018 and 2019 failed to increase US employment in the sectors they targeted, while the retaliatory tariffs they attracted reduced employment, mainly in agriculture.

Economists’ verdict

Tariffs can generate tax revenue and may increase employment and wages in some import-competing sectors. But they can also raise prices and may reduce employment and wages in exporting sectors.

Do the benefits outweigh the costs? Economists are nearly unanimous – and have been for centuries – that trade barriers have an overall negative effect on an economy.

But free trade does not benefit everyone, and tariffs are clearly enjoying a moment of political popularity. There are interesting times ahead.

Scott French, Senior Lecturer in Economics, UNSW Sydney

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

Your landlord has just raised your rent by 10% and your mind starts running the numbers – should you cop it sweet or look to move?

It’s a familiar scenario in today’s unpredictable housing market.

Understanding the real costs of staying versus moving is essential for making informed choices: renters must consider hidden expenses such as moving costs, deposits and changing rental rates, giving them tools to handle rising rent pressures more effectively.

A grim time for many renters

National median market rents have hit record highs, reaching $627 per week, with an average annual growth rate of 9.1% during the past three years, according to real estate giant CoreLogic.

CoreLogic also reported annual rental changes (houses and units) in regional Australia are not far off from the big cities: annual rent changes were 9.4% for combined capital cities, 6.4% for combined regional areas, and 8.5% nationally.

So, is it better to stay or move if your rent is raised by 10%? Let’s examine the costs and benefits of each option.

A breakdown of typical moving costs

We’ll start with the most obvious expense: moving costs.

Professional moving services aren’t cheap. For example, moving a three-bedroom house in the Gold Coast costs $1,095.25 on average, with an hourly rate of $158.26.

In a bigger city like Melbourne, the cost is slightly higher at about $1,118.46.

The moving costs between states or cities will be more expensive if you move further away.

You could choose to handle packing yourself and hire some help with a truck – a common option with businesses such as “Two Men and a Truck”, which typically costs around $100 per hour.

Be aware, though, that the hourly rate often starts from the moment the truck leaves the company’s warehouse until it returns. Alternatively, you can rent a van for a lower price, such as $87 for a 24-hour Handivan rental at Bunnings.

Don’t forget the cost of moving boxes, too: Bunnings’ 52 litre moving cartons cost $2.66 each.

End-of-lease or bond cleaning is another common expense.

For a typical three-bedroom property, internal cleaning can range from $365 to $500.

If you have pets, or kids who love drawing on the walls, your cleaning costs might be a bit higher.

Now, let’s look at utility connection expenses that can catch people by surprise.

Cancelling your internet service can be costly if you don’t meet the exit or cancellation policies. With Telstra Home Internet, for example, if you cancel within the first 24 months, you must return your modem within 21 days to avoid a $400 non-return fee.

Most providers charge a cancellation fee or require final device repayments, typically ranging from $100 to $500, depending on the remaining contract period. As a renter, it might be wise to choose a no-lock-in contract plan to avoid these fees if you need flexibility.

Electricity and gas connection and disconnection fees are usually minor but can add up, often costing about $40 to $60 for connection and disconnection fees for electricity alone. If your house uses gas for hot water or cooking, you may have to pay additional fees for setting up service.

However, there are also non-financial costs, like the time spent searching for a new home, attending inspections, and putting in applications.

Moving takes effort and energy for packing, transporting and unpacking.

Some people feel emotionally attached to their current home, which can make leaving harder.

Older renters seem to draw strength from their familiarity with, attachment to, and enjoyment of their place and community. This is something to be considered.

Plus, moving can take an emotional toll.

The benefits of not moving

The clear benefit of staying is avoiding the hassle of relocating.

Staying means saving on moving expenses and avoiding the time spent searching for a new place, packing and unpacking.

This may also save some people from needing to take time off work.

Changing and updating an address is also another tedious task that can be avoided by staying.

Moving can hit the hip pocket with “after moving costs” that people may not initially consider.

For instance, a new location might mean a longer commute. If each trip adds just 15 extra minutes, that could amount to an additional 11 hours per month over 22 workdays.

For drivers, increased fuel and parking expenses might also come into play.

Is the current or new location closer to a supermarket, hospital, and school? This proximity could be beneficial or detrimental, depending on the surrounding environment and available services.

To move or not to move?

One point to note is that overall, moving costs are likely to be similar between big cities and regional areas if you get moving supplies or rent a van from a large company such as Bunnings.

In the end, moving costs will be around $2,000 based on the figures above, and it can be around $800 to $1,000 cheaper if you opt to rent a van instead of using a full-service moving company.

Therefore, if the current rent is $600 per week and is about to increase by 10% to $660, the additional cost would be $3,120 per year.

So is it cheaper to move or stay when your rent increases by 10%?

The answer is moving may save about $1,000 to $2,000, but comes with the hassle and emotional toll of relocation. Staying will be more expensive, but with less hassle and emotional strain.

The right choice depends on your situation.

Park Thaichon, Associate Professor of Marketing, University of Southern Queensland and Sara Quach, Senior Lecturer in Marketing, Griffith University

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

Curious Kids is a series for children. If you have a question you’d like an expert to answer, send it to curiouskids@theconversation.edu.au You might also like the podcast Imagine This, a co-production between ABC KIDS listen and The Conversation, based on Curious Kids.

What is brain freeze? – Question from the students of Ms Young’s Grade 5/6 class, Baden Powell College, Victoria.

Australia had one one of its hottest summers on record this year (thanks, climate change, thanks a lot). Many of us probably gobbled up an ice cream and perhaps too quickly.

After doing this, you may have been unlucky enough to get an intense squeezing or stabbing sensation on your forehead, your temples or the back of your head. This is brain freeze, also known as an “ice cream headache”.

“So” you say, feeling smart, “brain freeze is just a kind of headache! I already know all about those”.

You are, of course, correct. But brain freeze is a bit weird. While it’s true that you do put ice-cream inside your head to eat it (your mouth is technically part of your head), you don’t typically put it into the parts of your head that hurt when you experience brain freeze. To put ice-cream into your forehead or temples would be a very weird surgical procedure that I do not advise you to try at home or anywhere else. It’s also hard to imagine a situation in which it would be medically necessary so it seems unlikely that it would be available on Medicare.

So why do your forehead and temples (or even the back of your head) hurt when you put ice cream in your mouth too fast?

There are several different ideas as to why, but the answer definitely has something to do with what happens when we cool down the roof of our mouth.

When you cool down the roof of your mouth, the coldness is picked up by nerve cells that live there and whose job it is to detect cold. This information about coldness is sent to your brain via a nerve. When the roof of your mouth is very cold, these cells (and so this nerve) will be very active.

Now, this nerve also contains information from other cells, including the ones that detect cold and painful stimuli from other parts of your head, including your very face.

It may be (we’re honestly not sure) that when the cells that sense cold in the roof of your mouth are very active, this somehow also activates the bits of the brain that are usually activated by the face cells. As a result, the cold fools your brain into thinking that your forehead hurts.

Another possibility is that, as delicious icy treats quickly cool down our tongues and mouths, it actually cools the blood in blood vessels that supply blood to your head. These blood vessels respond by changing how much blood flows into your brain. Only a few scientists have actually tried to measure this, and those that have don’t even agree about whether there is more or less blood going into your head. Everyone, however, agrees that it hurts.

It may be some combination of these two things: that activation of nerves causes a change in how much blood is going into your head. It might even be both things together!

Why don’t we know how brain freeze works?

Here’s the thing about science: “what is brain freeze” is a fantastic question for a curious scientist to ask, but to get the answer, scientists need to convince other people (politicians, other scientists and members of the public) that they should be given the time and money to answer that question.

Unfortunately, the availability of time and money are not as boundless as the curiosity of scientists.

The result of all this is that sometimes, simple and beautiful questions like “what is brain freeze?” don’t get as much attention as other questions that might seem more pressing.

Instead, these beautiful questions fall away, like a scoop of ice cream loosened by an enthusiastic but careless scientist who may not have the time or resources to investigate brain freeze in the lab, but excitedly discusses it with a friend over an ice cream anyway. My advice? Stay curious. Eat ice cream. Slowly.

Hello, curious kids! Have you got a question you’d like an expert to answer? Ask an adult to send your question to curiouskids@theconversation.edu.au

Please tell us your name, age and which city you live in. We won’t be able to answer every question but we will do our best.

David Farmer, Researcher, The University of Melbourne

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

Curious Kids is a series for children. Send your question to curiouskids@theconversation.edu.au. You might also like the podcast Imagine This, a co-production between ABC KIDS listen and The Conversation, based on Curious Kids.

How is water made? – Clara, age 8, Canberra.

Hi Clara. That’s a really great question. If we could make large quantities of water cheaply, cleanly and safely, it would solve a lot of the world’s problems. Unfortunately, it is not that easy.

What is water and where did it come from?

You’ve probably heard of atoms, the tiniest building blocks of all matter in the Universe. We are all made of atoms stuck together (or, as scientists would say, “bonded”). Atoms bonded together form molecules.

A molecule of pure water is made of two hydrogen atoms bonded to an oxygen atom. As explained in a previous Curious Kids article, scientists think the water on Earth may have come from the melting of water-rich minerals during the formation of the planet and icy comets that, billions of years ago, smashed into Earth and melted.

Why can’t we just make more?

While making small volumes of pure water in a lab is possible, it’s not practical to “make” large volumes of water by mixing hydrogen and oxygen together. The reaction is expensive, releases lots of energy, and can cause really massive explosions.

While the total volume of water on Earth stays about the same, water continually changes location and state. That means sometimes it is a liquid (like the water we drink), a solid (ice) or a gas (water vapour such as steam).

Scientists call this process of change the hydrologic (water) cycle, which is where water constantly moves around the world by cycling between the air, the ground and the ocean.

Round and round

The cycle begins when water is evaporated from the ocean (or lakes, rivers and wetlands) and enters the atmosphere (the air all around us) as water vapour (gas).

As warm, water-rich air rises, it cools down and can hold less water.

As a result, clouds form. Eventually, the water vapour changes back to liquid water and falls to Earth as rain. Rain that’s not immediately evaporated back into the atmosphere either flows into the ocean as runoff or is absorbed into the earth and becomes groundwater - water stored underground in the tiny spaces within rocks.

Plants can suck up groundwater with their roots, and push water out through tiny holes in their leaves (this is called transpiration).

Groundwater flows slowly through the earth to the ocean and the cycle begins again.

The hydrologic cycle is sensitive to changes in temperature and pressure. For example, if it is hot and windy, more evaporation occurs. Therefore, climate change impacts the hydrologic cycle. Regions that were once wet can become dry (and vice-versa) because clouds drop their rain into the ocean instead of upon the land where it can be collected and used.

Two tiny drops of drinking water

We drink fresh water, but most water on Earth is salty. And the vast majority of available fresh water on Earth is actually hidden underground as groundwater.

In fact, if you imagine all the water on Earth could fit into a one litre milk carton, it would all be ocean water except for only two tablespoons of fresh water.

Of the two tablespoons of fresh water, slightly less than three quarters would be frozen solid into ice and most of the rest would be groundwater.

The fresh water we see and use in rivers, swamps and lakes would only amount to less than two drops of the water in the world.

Therefore, protecting large fresh water sources like groundwater is very important because removing salt from ocean water can cost lots of money and energy.

The atmosphere, Earth and ocean are interconnected and things we do in one place can affect the quality of water in other places.

Chemicals poured down the sink or pumped into the atmosphere can eventually end up in the groundwater, which means less available fresh water for us to use.

Although we can’t “make” more water, we can make the best of the water we have by conserving and protecting it.

Hello, curious kids! Have you got a question you’d like an expert to answer? Ask an adult to send your question to us. You can:

* Email your question to curiouskids@theconversation.edu.au
* Tell us on Twitter by tagging @ConversationEDU with the hashtag #curiouskids, or
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Please tell us your name, age and which city you live in. You can send an audio recording of your question too, if you want. Send as many questions as you like! We won’t be able to answer every question but we will do our best.

Emma Kathryn White, PhD Candidate, Infrastructure Engineering, The University of Melbourne

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

Curious Kids is a series for children. If you have a question you’d like an expert to answer, send it to curiouskids@theconversation.edu.au You might also like the podcast Imagine This, a co-production between ABC KIDS listen and The Conversation, based on Curious Kids.

Can snails fart? Thank you. – Avalon, age 9, Scotts Head, NSW.

Lots of animals fart because of what they eat, but it was not easy for me to find a clear answer on whether snails really do. More research is needed to know exactly how the digestive system of a snail really works.

You might have heard about methane. It is a gas found in a lot of animal farts. I did find one study that said that scientists kept some snails in a glass container for one day and one night and checked if they would produce methane. And the snails did not.

(For the adults in the audience, the paper noted that, “In this aspect, the structure of the microbiota and in consequence the functioning of the digestive microbial ecosystem of the snails differs markedly from those of vertebrates, especially herbivores.”)

You may have seen reports that scientists built a database showing which animals do and don’t fart. Not every animal in the world is on there, but it does say that mussels and clams (which, like snails, are part of a group of animals called molluscs) do not fart. Moon snails, which live in the sea, were also listed as a no.

One thing I can tell you is that a snail’s bottom is right over its head. This is because snails are very different from other molluscs (which includes things like octopus and squid as well). Because they are squashed into a protective shell, their body is twisted round to fit in. As a result, their bottom is just above and to the side of where their head comes out.

Gassy molluscs

Water snails, mussels and other molluscs do produce a gas called nitrous oxide if they live in polluted water.

You might have heard of nitrous oxide. It’s also called “laughing gas”. But this can be a problem, as nitrous oxide is a greenhouse gas and lots of it will add to climate change.

These mussels, when they are not producing laughing gas, produce something called “pseudo-faeces” which literally means “false poo”. Because the food they eat (little plants and animals floating in the water which they suck in) can contain a lot of sand, they sometimes have to squirt it all out. This doesn’t come out of their bottom, but out of something called a siphon, through which they suck their food.

Hello, curious kids! Have you got a question you’d like an expert to answer? Ask an adult to send your question to curiouskids@theconversation.edu.au

Please tell us your name, age and which city you live in. We won’t be able to answer every question but we will do our best.

Bill Bateman, Associate professor, Curtin University

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

Curious Kids is a series for children. If you have a question you’d like an expert to answer, send it to curiouskids@theconversation.edu.au You might also like the podcast Imagine This, a co-production between ABC KIDS listen and The Conversation, based on Curious Kids.

Why can’t we do whatever we want? – Flynn, aged 6.

Thanks, Flynn. That’s a really good question. When you are younger you can feel like all the rules around you are unfair. You may also feel like you don’t get much say in things. Doing whatever you want seems like a great idea!

You might wonder, what is the point of all these boring rules? Usually, Flynn, rules help us with two things: learning and staying safe.

Kids should make some decisions – but not all

Let’s think about learning. When you are six, you are learning new things every day. I’m sure that if you think back to only a year ago you will realise how much you have changed! Many of those annoying rules that you worry about are there to help you to focus on learning and playing and having fun.

Without rules, you would have a lot of decisions to make every day. Too many decisions would get in the way of your learning and make you feel overloaded. Being in charge of a lot of decisions can sometimes be quite stressful and can sometimes make people feel worried and anxious. This is why it’s important to allow kids to make some decisions – but not all of them.

I also mentioned safety. While I am sure that you are very smart, there are a lot of things you don’t know about the world yet. These are the things that you will learn from now until you are a grown up, like how to drive a car, who to trust and how to spend your money wisely.

Until you know all these things, the rules are there to keep you safe. The rules make sure people always know where you are, that you won’t get hurt and that you get what you need to be happy and healthy in life.

Your parents can relax the rules a little as you grow

You may not know this yet, but the rules will also change as you get older. Think about the differences between now and when you were a toddler.

At six, you probably have a later bedtime, are allowed to watch more TV and do different things and have a lot more of your own friends.

This is because it is important to encourage children to take on more decisions as they get older.

Think of it like a ladder. You might not be at the top right now, but each new thing you learn takes you a step closer and means your parents can relax the rules a little.

Finally, I should say that the rules don’t go away completely even when you are a grown up. Grown ups still have to work and pay bills and follow the rules. Even we can’t do whatever we want!

Hello, curious kids! Have you got a question you’d like an expert to answer? Ask an adult to send your question to curiouskids@theconversation.edu.au

Please tell us your name, age and which city you live in. We won’t be able to answer every question but we will do our best.

Jade Sheen, Associate Professor, School of Psychology, Deakin University

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

This is an article from Curious Kids, a series for children. The Conversation is asking kids to send in questions they’d like an expert to answer. All questions are welcome – serious, weird or wacky!

If a lethally poisonous snake bites another lethally poisonous snake of the same species does the bitten snake suffer healthwise or die? – Ella, age 10, Wagga Wagga.

Hi Ella,

That’s a great question.

If a venomous snake is bitten by another venomous snake of the same species, (for example during a fight or mating), then it will not be affected.

However, if a snake is bitten by a venomous snake of another species, it probably will be affected.

This is probably because snakes have evolved to be immune to venom from their own species, because bites from mates or rivals of the same species probably happen fairly often.

But a snake being regularly bitten by another snake from a different species? It’s unlikely that would happen very often, so snakes haven’t really had a chance to develop immunity to venom from other species.

Snakes can break down venom in the stomach

Many people believe that snakes are immune to their own venom so that they don’t get harmed when eating an animal it has just injected full of venom.

But in fact, they don’t need to be immune. Scientists have found that special digestive chemicals in the stomachs of most vertebrates (animals with backbones) break down snake venom very quickly. So the snake’s stomach can quickly deal with the venom in the animal it just ate before it has a chance to harm the snake.

People that have snakes as pets often see this. If one venomous snake bites a mouse and injects venom into it, for example, you can then feed that same dead mouse to another snake. The second snake won’t die.

The difference between venom and poison

By the way, scientists usually use the word “venomous” rather than “poisonous” when they’re talking about snakes. Many people often mix those words up. Poisons need to be ingested or swallowed to be dangerous, while venoms need to be injected via a bite or a sting.

Some snakes can inject their toxins into their prey, which makes them venomous. However, there seem to be a couple of snake species that eat frogs and can store the toxins from the frogs in their body. This makes them poisonous if the snake’s body is eaten. Over time, many other animals will have learned that it is not safe to eat those snakes, so this trick helps keep them safe.

Hello, curious kids! Have you got a question you’d like an expert to answer? Ask an adult to send your question to us. You can:

* Email your question to curiouskids@theconversation.edu.au
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Please tell us your name, age and which city you live in. You can send an audio recording of your question too, if you want. Send as many questions as you like! We won’t be able to answer every question but we will do our best.

Jamie Seymour, Associate Professor, James Cook University

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

Australia’s Therapeutic Goods Administration (TGA) has recently approved a new COVID booster. The shot was developed by Pfizer and targets the JN.1 sub-variant of Omicron.

This is now the fifth iteration of the COVID vaccines, which have been updated regularly to keep up with the rapidly evolving virus, SARS-CoV-2.

But nearly five years into the pandemic, you may be wondering, why do we need yet another type of COVID booster? And do we still need to be getting boosters at all? Here’s what to consider.

Targeting the spike protein

Pfizer’s JN.1 booster (and Moderna’s, though the TGA has not approved this one at this stage) is based on mRNA technology. This technology instructs our cells to produce a specific protein – in this case SARS-CoV-2’s spike, a protein on the surface of the virus that allows it to attach to our cells.

This helps the immune system produce antibodies that recognise the spike protein and interfere with the virus getting into our cells.

In response to our strengthened immune responses from vaccinations and previous infections (called immune pressure), SARS-CoV-2 has continued to evolve over the course of the pandemic, modifying the shape of its spike protein so our antibodies become less effective.

Most recently we’ve faced a soup of Omicron sub-variants, including JN.1. Since JN.1 was first detected in August 2023, this Omicron sub-variant has spawned a variety of further sub-variants, such as KP.2 (known as FLiRT), KP.3 (known as FLuQE) and XEC.

The spike protein is made up of 1,273 amino acids, a bit like molecular building blocks. Mutations to the spike protein change individual amino acids.

Certain amino acids are important for allowing neutralising antibodies to bind to the spike protein. This means changes can give the virus an edge over earlier variants, helping it evade our immune response.

Scientists keep updating the COVID vaccines in an effort to keep up with these changes. The better matched the vaccine “spike” is to the spike protein on the surface of the virus trying to infect you, the better protection you’re likely to get.

So who should get vaccinated, and when?

Updating vaccines to deal with mutating viruses is not a new concept. It has been happening for the flu vaccine since around 1950.

We’ve become accustomed to getting the annual flu vaccine in the lead-up to the winter cold and flu season. But, unlike influenza, COVID has not settled into this annual seasonal cycle. The frequency of COVID waves of infection has been fluctuating, with new waves emerging periodically.

COVID is also more transmissible than the flu, which presents another challenge. While numbers vary, a conservative estimate of the reproduction number (R0 – how many people will one person will go on to infect) for JN.1 is 5. Compare this to seasonal flu with an R0 of about 1.3. In other words, COVID could be four times more transmissible than flu.

Add to this immunity from a COVID vaccination (or a previous infection) begins to wane in the months afterwards.

So an annual COVID booster is not considered enough for some more vulnerable people.

For adults aged 65 to 74, a booster is recommended every 12 months, but they’re eligible every six months. For adults over 75, a shot is recommended every six months.

Adults aged 18 to 64 are eligible every 12 months, unless they have a severe immune deficiency. Many conditions can cause immunodeficiency, including genetic disorders, infections, cancer, autoimmune diseases, diabetes and lung disease, as well as having received an organ transplant. For this group, it’s recommended they receive a shot every 12 months, but they’re eligible every six.

Making sense of the advice

A vaccine that targets JN.1 should provide good protection against the Omicron sub-variants likely to be circulating in the coming months.

A few things need to happen before the JN.1 shots become available, such as the Australian Technical Advisory Group on Immunisation providing guidance to the government. But we can reasonably expect they might be rolled out within the next month or so.

If they hit doctors’ offices and pharmacies before Christmas and you’re due for a booster, the holiday period might be added impetus to go and get one, especially if you’re planning to attend lots of family and social gatherings over summer.

In the meantime, the XBB.1.5 vaccines remain available. Although they’re targeted at an earlier Omicron sub-variant, they should still offer some protection.

While young, healthy people might like to wait for the updated boosters, for those who are vulnerable and due for a vaccination, whether or not to hold out may be something to weigh up with your doctor.

The advice on COVID boosters in Australia, with stronger wording (“recommended” versus “eligible”) used for more vulnerable groups, reflects what we know about COVID. People who are older and medically vulnerable are more likely to become very unwell with the virus.

For young, healthy people who may be wondering, “do I need a COVID booster at all?”, having one annually is sensible. Although you’re less likely to get very sick from COVID, it’s possible. And, importantly, vaccines also reduce the risk of developing long COVID.

While COVID vaccines do a very good job of protecting against severe disease, they don’t necessarily stop you becoming infected. Evidence on whether they reduce transmission has been mixed, and changed over time.

We’ve come to appreciate that vaccination is not going to free us of COVID. But it’s still our best defence against severe illness.

Nathan Bartlett, Professor, School of Biomedical Sciences and Pharmacy, University of Newcastle

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

You know that feeling you get when you take a breath of fresh air in nature? There may be more to it than a simple lack of pollution.

When we think of nutrients, we think of things we obtain from our diet. But a careful look at the scientific literature shows there is strong evidence humans can also absorb some nutrients from the air.

In a new perspective article published in Advances in Nutrition, we call these inhaled nutrients “aeronutrients” – to differentiate them from the “gastronutrients” that are absorbed by the gut.

We propose that breathing supplements our diet with essential nutrients such as iodine, zinc, manganese and some vitamins. This idea is strongly supported by published data. So, why haven’t you heard about this until now?

Breathing is constant

We breathe in about 9,000 litres of air a day and 438 million litres in a lifetime. Unlike eating, breathing never stops. Our exposure to the components of air, even in very small concentrations, adds up over time.

To date, much of the research around the health effects of air has been centred on pollution. The focus is on filtering out what’s bad, rather than what could be beneficial. Also, because a single breath contains minuscule quantities of nutrients, it hasn’t seemed meaningful.

For millennia, different cultures have valued nature and fresh air as healthful. Our concept of aeronutrients shows these views are underpinned by science. Oxygen, for example, is technically a nutrient – a chemical substance “required by the body to sustain basic functions”.

We just don’t tend to refer to it that way because we breathe it, rather than eat it.

How do aeronutrients work, then?

Aeronutrients enter our body by being absorbed through networks of tiny blood vessels in the nose, lungs, olfactory epithelium (the area where smell is detected) and the oropharynx (the back of the throat).

The lungs can absorb far larger molecules than the gut – 260 times larger, to be exact. These molecules are absorbed intact into the bloodstream and brain.

Drugs that can be inhaled (such as cocaine, nicotine and anaesthetics, to name a few) will enter the body within seconds. They are effective at far lower concentrations than would be needed if they were being consumed by mouth.

In comparison, the gut breaks substances down into their smallest parts with enzymes and acids. Once these enter the bloodstream, they are metabolised and detoxified by the liver.

The gut is great at taking up starches, sugars and amino acids, but it’s not so great at taking up certain classes of drugs. In fact, scientists are continuously working to improve medicines so we can effectively take them by mouth.

The evidence has been around for decades

Many of the scientific ideas that are obvious in retrospect have been beneath our noses all along. Research from the 1960s found that laundry workers exposed to iodine in the air had higher iodine levels in their blood and urine.

More recently, researchers in Ireland studied schoolchildren living near seaweed-rich coastal areas, where atmospheric iodine gas levels were much higher. These children had significantly more iodine in their urine and were less likely to be iodine-deficient than those living in lower-seaweed coastal areas or rural areas. There were no differences in iodine in their diet.

This suggests that airborne iodine – especially in places with lots of seaweed – could help supplement dietary iodine. That makes it an aeronutrient our bodies might absorb through breathing.

Manganese and zinc can enter the brain through the neurons that sense smell in the nose. Manganese is an essential nutrient, but too much of it can harm the brain. This is seen in welders, who are exposed to high levels from air and have harmful levels of manganese buildup.

The cilia (hair-like structures) in the olfactory and respiratory system have special receptors that can bind to a range of other potential aeronutrients. These include nutrients like choline, vitamin C, calcium, manganese, magnesium, iron and even amino acids.

Research published over 70 years ago has shown that aerosolised vitamin B12 can treat vitamin B12 deficiency. This is super important for people who have high B12 deficiency rates, such as vegans, older people, those with diabetes and those with excessive alcohol intake.

If we accept aeronutrients, what next?

There are still a lot of unknowns. First, we need to find out what components of air are beneficial for health in natural settings like green spaces, forests, the ocean and the mountains. To date, research has predominantly focused on toxins, particulate matter and allergens like pollen.

Next, we would need to determine which of these components can be classified as aeronutrients.

Given that vitamin B12 in aerosol form is already shown to be safe and effective , further research could explore whether turning other micronutrients, like vitamin D, into aerosols could help combat widespread nutrient deficiencies.

We need to study these potential aeronutrients in controlled experiments to determine dose, safety and contribution to the diet. This is particularly relevant in places where air is highly filtered, like airplanes, hospitals, submarines and even space stations.

Perhaps we will discover that aeronutrients help prevent some of the modern diseases of urbanisation. One day, nutrition guidelines may recommend inhaling nutrients. Or that we spend enough time breathing in nature to obtain aeronutrients in addition to eating a healthy, balanced diet.

Flávia Fayet-Moore, Adjunct Lecturer, School of Environmental and Life Sciences, University of Newcastle and Stephen R. Robinson, Professor in Psychology, Research, RMIT University

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

It is a new idea to many Australians that their past is connected to the tragic history of transatlantic slavery.

Some aspects of this relationship have begun to be uncovered: for instance when Britain abolished slavery in its Caribbean colonies – places such as Jamaica, Barbados, Trinidad and Grenada – it struck a deal with the slave-owners to pay them £20m compensation for the loss of their human “property”.

An online database hosted by The Centre for the Study of the Legacies of British Slavery allows anyone to search for the individuals and companies that benefited from this money. New historical research has traced the extensive investments of this compensation in the settler colonies of Australasia.

Review: Black Convicts: How slavery shaped Australia – Santilla Chingaipe (Scribner)

Along with capital, investors brought knowledge and attitudes – how to grow sugar in Queensland, for example, using techniques developed on slave plantations in British Guiana.

Likewise, British military forces violently quelled slave rebellion in the Caribbean and then travelled to Australia, where they applied the same techniques of violent punishment against First Nations Australians. Using biographical and genealogical methods, many stories are also tracking the movement of people from Caribbean slave-worked colonies to places such as Australia, New Zealand and Canada.

But this is frequently a top-down view, reflecting the continuing imbalance of power, recorded evidence, and prejudices flowing from this unequal past. In her new book, award-winning filmmaker Santilla Chingaipe sets out to explore links to slavery and their legacies from another direction, focusing on Black convicts of African descent.

Ambitiously, and “with much urgency” she also aims to investigate how hierarchies of race, class and gender came to be in the Australian justice system.

Chingaipe began this journey in 2018 after visiting an exhibition about the colonisation of Australia. It mentioned at the start that Africans were among the first arrivals here – but did not further explore this history.

She undertook her own research about men of African descent on the First Fleet and in colonial Australia. “What I was not expecting,” she writes, “was for quite literally hundreds of non-white people from across the British Empire to reveal themselves in the archives.”

Her publisher tells us that Black Convicts “builds on” and takes further “Chingaipe’s critically acclaimed and award-winning [2021] documentary Our African Roots”. While not a professional historian, Chingaipe undertook study in history to acquire the tools she needed to research and tell this story.

Narrowing her focus to convicts – and consequently the convict colonies of New South Wales and Van Diemens Land – Chingaipe engages with a “handful of scholarly accounts” and archival sources, as well as drawing from newspaper accounts, radio interviews, and websites in producing her “collection of transatlantic stories”.

She is also critical of some previous historians in this field, singling out award-winning writer and historian Cassandra Pybus for her use of “racialized language and stereotyping” in writing about certain Black subjects. As a Zambian-born Australian, Chingaipe seeks to write something “beyond” history that might “act as a partial corrective to the epistemic violence of these narratives” and to help “us see these people as more than commodities and convicts”.

However Chingaipe’s aim to counter the misrepresentations of previous accounts perhaps leads her to overlook or deny existing scholarship, with some ill effects. Early in the book she states, “I have been able to conclusively identify at least ten people of African descent” who were convicts on the First Fleet, based on their archival description.

These are John Moseley, John Caesar, John Coffin, John Randall, John Martin, Daniel Gordon, John Williams, Black Jemmy Williams, Thomas Orford and Samuel Chinnery.

This misleadingly gives the impression that no one had done so before her – yet all of these figures have been previously researched and written about by historians, notably in Pybus’ 2006 Black Founders and Mollie Gillen’s 1989 The Founders of Australia: A Biographical Dictionary of the First Fleet.

Indeed almost all are subjects of online biographies published by the Australian Dictionary of Biography or People Australia. In “correcting” previous biases I believe it is important not to introduce new ones.

In places, this partial engagement with conventional historiography shallows Chingaipe’s analysis: for example, the case of Mauritian convict Eugene Doucette who in 1848 helped arrest a First Nations man has been researched by Queensland historian Libby Connors, who noted his friendship with Noonuccal man Bobby Winter and his acceptance by the Noonuccal at Amity Point on Minjerribah (Stradbroke Island).

Connors pointed out that Doucette’s and Winter’s arrest of another First Nations man “was probably a product of traditional law” as much as British colonial justice". Her analysis opens up our understanding of the sophistication and underlying logic of First Nations law rather than seeing these events through the colonisers’ lens.

A fresh perspective

These limitations aside, Chingaipe brings a fresh and urgent perspective to bear on Australian history, re-telling many stirring, surprising, captivating moments of encounter or Black experience. Over much of the book, reflecting its foundation in her documentary film, she adopts a movie-like method of gleaning a crucial point or argument from the work of an established historian, whom she then interviews or takes to visit a historical site.

This technique enlivens her narrative and links it to the present, as she literally travels from places such as the ruins of Fort Dundas in the Tiwi Islands, where a disproportionate number of Black convicts were sent in 1824, to rowing across Sydney Harbour in a boat like that of ferryman William (“Billy”) Blue.

Born into slavery in the United States, Blue became a soldier in the British army. In London in 1796 he was sentenced to transportation for stealing sugar. In Sydney he married white convict Elizabeth Williams and they had six children together. As harbour watchman and ferryman, Blue became well-known and is still remembered through landmarks such as Blues Point.

This book is perhaps best appreciated as a film rendered in words, and is no less powerful for being so.

‘Ugly truths’

With a bowerbird eye Chingaipe looks again at our seemingly well-known, White-dominated past to show Black people as active and indeed integral participants across the colonial period.

For example, she examines the status of Black emancipist John Johnstone as a perpetrator of the 1838 Myall Creek Massacre of Wirrayaraay people in New South Wales.

Johnstone was of African descent, born in Liverpool, Britain, and was transported to New South Wales in 1829. Chingaipe points out that

to presume Johnstone’s actions could be predicted from the colour of his skin is exactly the sort of blindness this book sets out to challenge.

As her account shows, by the time of the massacre, Johnstone had spent a decade on the violent frontier, his shifting status as victim/perpetrator shattering the binary view of colonial race relations.

In telling her cinematic stories, Chingaipe raises numerous topics and places, threading together Africa, the Caribbean, Mauritius, and the Australian colonies. Her book shows how themes such as water, sugar, capital, labour, Black protest and resistance, the survival of African religious beliefs, and the experience of Black women and children weave through Australian history, embedding it within global processes.

One revealing life journey is that of Robert James, born in 1809 in Barbados, and transported for the rape of a white woman. He made a life for himself in Hobart, where he married Lucinda, a woman from St Helena, their marriage witnessed by two other Black convicts, Thomas and Mary Jane Burrows.

The couple opened a lodging house in Collins Street, which was seemingly a haven for Black people, and James died at a venerable 86. Their friends, the Burrows family were not so fortunate. Their son Francis Burrows’ story is especially confronting.

Aged ten, Francis was living with a white farmer, ominously named Charles Slaughter, charged with looking after his cattle. Following continued mistreatment and abuse Francis died in late 1859. Slaughter was exonerated of murder. As Chingaipe comments, “it’s hard not to feel that” this injustice “had something to do with Francis being Black”.

While underlying structures linking slavery and colonisation remain implicit, as collective biography these empathetic stories build up a picture of Black experience across diverse contexts and moments.

Clearly-written, with a frequently poignant turn of phrase, the result is a fresh and compelling account of Chingaipe’s journey of discovery, that carries the reader along with her.

Foregrounding her Black perspective on a seemingly well-known narrative, Chingaipe achieves her aim to ask “us, as Australians, to confront some of the ugly truths of our history”.

Jane Lydon, Wesfarmers Chair of Australian History, The University of Western Australia

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

For decades it seemed Alan Jones was unassailable.

A finding against him of professional misconduct by the Australian Broadcasting Authority (2000); a finding that he incited hatred, serious contempt and severe ridicule of Lebanese Muslims (2009); propositions of violence against two women prime ministers (2011 and 2019); verdicts against him and his employer amounting to millions of dollars in defamation actions (most notably one for $3.75 million in 2018): none of these ended his career.

Quite the reverse. Only weeks after the Australian Broadcasting Authority found in its “cash for comments” inquiry that Jones and others had misled their listeners by presenting paid endorsements as editorial opinion, he was hosting an event for then prime minister John Howard.

Howard was to become a fixture on the Jones program throughout the 11 years of his prime ministership.

The day after the Australian Communications and Media Authority found Jones was likely to have encouraged violence and vilification of Australians of Lebanese and Middle Eastern background, Howard described him as “an outstanding broadcaster”. “I don’t think he’s a person who encourages prejudice in the Australian community, not for one moment, but he is a person who articulates what a lot of people think.”

By 2001, Jones had become a kind of on-air policy-maker for the New South Wales government. In November that year, he dined with the then Labor premier, Bob Carr. They discussed a range of government policies, particularly policing. At that time, Jones was a relentless critic of the NSW police.

The following week, Carr dispatched his police minister-designate, Michael Costa, to Jones’s home to discuss policing policy.

In 2011 he said Julia Gillard, then Australia’s prime minister, should be taken out to sea and dumped in a chaff bag. In August 2019 he said Scott Morrison, who was then Australia’s prime minister, should “shove a sock” down the throat of his New Zealand counterpart Jacinda Ardern.

He was an outspoken climate-change denier, and these grotesqueries were part of his campaign against political recognition of this reality.

Jones’s power, which made him so apparently untouchable, came from his weaponising of the microphone for conservative political ends in ways that resonated with his vast and rusted-on audience of largely working-class older people across Sydney’s sprawling western suburbs.

These suburbs contain many marginal state and federal electorates where the fates of governments can be decided. Their populations provide fertile ground for seeding by right-wing radio shock jocks, of whom Jones and his rival John Laws were pre-eminent examples.

In Australia, this is a peculiarly Sydney phenomenon. It is not seen to the same degree in any other capital city, even though they too have large areas of socioeconomic disadvantage like western Sydney.

Why that should be so is a complex question, but there are aspects of Sydney life that mark it out as different. It is really two cities. One is the largely prosperous and scenically dazzling east and north. The other, much larger, consists of dreary tracts of increasingly crowded housing stretching for many kilometres to the west and southwest.

In Sydney argot, the inhabitants of these respective worlds are called “silvertails” and “fibros”, the latter referring to the cladding of the homes that proliferated in western Sydney between and after the two world wars.

This two-cities effect makes the gap between the “haves” and the “have-nots” highly visible in a way that has no parallel in other Australian capitals. It engenders deep-seated grievance and cynicism, which the likes of Jones, who lives in a multimillion-dollar apartment on Circular Quay, have relentlessly exploited.

Jones coined the term “Struggle Street” to encapsulate the hardships of his listeners’ lives.

To these powerless people, Jones and Laws gave a voice, and as their audiences grew, prime ministers and premiers courted and feared them.

In the end, Jones’s impregnability was breached by not the power elite turning on one of their own, but by the journalism of a redoubtably tenacious Sydney Morning Herald investigative reporter, Kate McClymont.

In December 2023, she claimed Jones had used his position of power, first as a teacher and later as the country’s top-rating radio broadcaster, to allegedly prey on a number of young men.

In response to McClymont’s work, the NSW police set up Strike Force Bonnefin, run by the State Crime Command’s Child Abuse Squad, to conduct an investigation into Jones.

On November 18 2024, Jones was arrested at his Circular Quay home and charged initially with 24 sexual offences against eight males. The following day, two additional charges were laid involving a ninth male.

Through his lawyers, Jones has denied the charges and was bailed to appear in Sydney’s Downing Centre Local Court on December 18. He was ordered to surrender his passport and not to contact or harass the alleged victims.

The charges relate to offences alleged to have been committed by Jones between 2001 and 2019, the youngest alleged victim being 17 at the time.

Those dates coincide almost exactly with Jones’s most influential years, from 2002 to 2020.

McClymont has spoken about the reluctance of some of her interviewees to speak, for fear of what Jones might do:

People were too afraid to take on Alan Jones. Once a couple of people came forward, and some people were happy to be publicly named, that gave confidence for other people to come forward.

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

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

Cash usage has fallen off a cliff in Australia, but the federal government says it must have a future. So, it’s going to mandate one.

The Australian government will require businesses to accept cash for essentials such as groceries and fuel. Some (yet to be determined) small businesses will be exempt.

According to Treasury, losing cash as a means of payment would leave too many people behind:

Around 1.5 million Australians use cash to make more than 80% of their in‑person payments. Cash also provides an easily accessible back‑up to digital payments in times of natural disaster or digital outage.

In its announcement on Monday, Treasury pointed to what had already been achieved with similar schemes in other countries such as Spain and Norway, and a range of US states.

It’s an honourable cause. There are, however, some aspects of life in Australia that will present unique challenges for achieving it.

Why does using cash cost so much?

Some merchants in Australia already refuse to accept cash as a means of payment. That means relying entirely on digital payment methods such as bank cards and mobile wallets.

It mightn’t be immediately obvious why some businesses don’t like cash. But for many, it’s the most costly payment method to accept. While cash transactions don’t come with a surcharge fee like bank cards, they do carry a wide range of other hidden costs.

Businesses typically need to keep a “float” of cash in their tills overnight, so that next day’s early customers can be given change if needed. This float needs to be regularly updated and rebalanced with appropriate currency so the correct change can always be given.

Businesses also have to make sure no cash goes missing during their opening hours, count their cash take at the end of each day, make sure it is secure on their premises, and make periodic physical deposits into their bank account.

Both maintaining a float and making deposits can involve unpredictable trips to a bank branch or post office throughout the week.

Things are getting harder

For individuals and businesses, getting cash into and out of a bank account is becoming more of a challenge. And if you’re in regional or remote Australia, the nearest location where you can do so may be an hours-long drive away.

The most recent figures from the Australian Prudential Regulation Authority (APRA) show that across Australia since 2017, the number of ATMs has fallen by about 60% and the number of bank branches by 41%.

Many remaining bank branches have reduced their hours, and some have even stopped dealing in cash entirely, especially in rural and regional areas.

Moving cash around the country isn’t getting any easier or cheaper.

The dominant provider of cash-in-transit services, Armaguard, has been under sustained financial pressure in recent years.

Earlier this year, it secured a deal with Australia’s big four banks and some of its other major customers to receive a $50 million bailout.

Some countries facing similar situations – including the UK – have persuaded their banks to fund the idea of “banking hubs”.

Typically under this model, a location is identified in a regional community and banks collectively share the space, with each bank having one day a week in residence so that nobody is excluded from these services.

Could a regional branch levy help?

Also this month, Treasury proposed a new regional services levy, to support what should be the minimum level of banking services in regional areas.

Banks with a relatively large regional presence would be cross subsidised by a proportional levy on banks with relatively fewer services in these areas or none at all.

This funding would help banks sustain the number of branches, their opening hours and their ATMs. Under the proposal, banks that fell short of baseline requirements could purchase credits from others that did.

The reasoning behind these measures is that like Australia Post, banks should have a formal community service obligation. That is, a baseline of minimum services that must be provided.

Questions still to answer

In its media release, Treasury only gave a big picture view of what they wanted to achieve. There are still many questions that need to be resolved before any of its plans can become legislation.

Some concern where and how to target support. If regionally focused, how should regional be defined? Which areas and towns prioritised?

How should the banks and other financial services providers be required to help support cash use?

Exactly which businesses will be affected – and which exempt – must also be clearly defined, along with any enforcement measures.

And there is likely to be robust debate over what exactly constitutes the “essentials” for which merchants will be mandated to accept cash payment.

Steve Worthington, Adjunct Professor, Swinburne University of Technology

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

The Albanese government, anxious to prevent a dash from cash by businesses, says it will mandate that they must accept it for essential items.

Treasurer Jim Chalmers and Assistant Treasurer Stephen Jones outlined the move in a statement, and are also releasing a plan to make the phasing out of cheques as orderly as possible.

Small businesses in general will be exempted from the cash requirement.

Treasury will consult on what businesses will be affected. They are expected to include supermarkets, those supplying basic banking services, those selling pharmaceuticals, petrol stations, utilities and healthcare services.

Through the consultations the government will consider the size of businesses that must accept cash, for example in the supermarket sector whether it would apply only to the largest supermarkets.

The question of distance will be relevant – what would be a reasonable distance for a person to have to travel to find a business that took cash.

The regime would likely be established through regulation, so it could be adjusted over time.

The ministers said although people increasingly use digital methods to pay, about 1.5 million Australians use cash for more than 80% of their in-person payments.

“Cash also provides an easily accessible back-up to digital payments in times of natural disaster or digital outage,” the ministers said.

They said up to 94% of businesses still accept cash “and we want to see cash acceptance continue particularly for essentials”.

The consultations would consider the needs of people relying on cash, including those in regional areas and those unable to use digital payments, as well as the impact on businesses especially small businesses, the ministers said.

The details of the mandate would be announced next year and it is proposed it start from January 1 2026.

Cash mandates are in place in countries including Spain, France, Norway and Denmark and in some American states.

Under the cheque transition plan, cheques will only stop being issued by June 30, 2028 and stop being accepted on September 30, 2029.

Cheque use has fallen by 90% in the last decade. Many banks and other financial institutions are ending providing cheque books for new customers.

The ministers said the government was acting to give customers and businesses the help they needed to switch to other payment methods. Banks also had a responsibility to support users in a smooth transition.

Chalmers has written to the CEOs of the four major banks outlining what is expected of them.

Parliament begins frantic last fortnight for the year

Parliament is commencing its final fortnight sitting for the year with much more legislation on the agenda than it can deal with.

Among its priorities will be the caps on international students for universities which are set to start next year. The caps will cost some universities large amounts of income, and have also come under attack from the retail and hospitality sectors.

The government is also anxious to have passed before the end of the year its aged care reforms, with the opposition agreed in principle but a wealth of detail to be considered.

There is as well legislation for the indexation of HELP student loans and for new school funding.

On Monday the government will introduce its sweeping changes to election donations and spending, with the aim of passing the legislation by the end of next week.

Other legislation includes restricting the age of access to social media to 16 and over, with the bill to be introduced this week. The opposition supports this move, and indeed advocated it before the government, so this has a good prospect of passage this year.

But the bill for controls on misinformation and disinformation appears at this stage to be unlikely to pass, with Fatima Payman, who defected from Labor, among the crossbenchers who has expressed opposition.

The Greens are looking for negotiations to be reopened on the housing legislation they have been holding up.

Greens spokesman Max Chandler-Mather has written to Housing Minister Clare O'Neil with a list of demands on the Build to Rent and Help to Buy bills, saying the Greens would pass the bills if the government “agrees to make progress” on their points.

With the election fast approaching and housing a central issue, it would seem in the interests of both Labor and Greens to strike a deal.

Michelle Grattan, Professorial Fellow, University of Canberra

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

The way people living with dementia experience the world can change as the disease progresses. Their sense of reality or place in time can become distorted, which can cause agitation and distress.

One of the best ways to support people experiencing changes in perception and behaviour is to manage their environment. This can have profound benefits including reducing the need for sedatives.

One such strategy is the use of dolls as comfort aids.

What is ‘doll therapy’?

More appropriately referred to as “child representation”, lifelike dolls (also known as empathy dolls) can provide comfort for some people with dementia.

Memories from the distant past are often more salient than more recent events in dementia. This means that past experiences of parenthood and caring for young children may feel more “real” to a person with dementia than where they are now.

Hallucinations or delusions may also occur, where a person hears a baby crying or fears they have lost their baby.

Providing a doll can be a tangible way of reducing distress without invalidating the experience of the person with dementia.

Some people believe the doll is real

A recent case involving an aged care nurse mistreating a dementia patient’s therapy doll highlights the importance of appropriate training and support for care workers in this area.

For those who do become attached to a therapeutic doll, they will treat the doll as a real baby needing care and may therefore have a profound emotional response if the doll is mishandled.

It’s important to be guided by the person with dementia and only act as if it’s a real baby if the person themselves believes that is the case.

What does the evidence say about their use?

Evidence shows the use of empathy dolls may help reduce agitation and anxiety and improve overall quality of life in people living with dementia.

Child representation therapy falls under the banner of non-pharmacological approaches to dementia care. More specifically, the attachment to the doll may act as a form of reminiscence therapy, which involves using prompts to reconnect with past experiences.

Interacting with the dolls may also act as a form of sensory stimulation, where the person with dementia may gain comfort from touching and holding the doll. Sensory stimulation may support emotional well-being and aid commnication.

However, not all people living with dementia will respond to an empathy doll.

The introduction of a therapeutic doll needs to be done in conjunction with careful observation and consideration of the person’s background.

Empathy dolls may be inappropriate or less effective for those who have not previously cared for children or who may have experienced past birth trauma or the loss of a child.

Be guided by the person with dementia and how they respond to the doll.

Are there downsides?

The approach has attracted some controversy. It has been suggested that child representation therapy “infantilises” people living with dementia and may increase negative stigma.

Further, the attachment may become so strong that the person with dementia will become upset if someone else picks the doll up. This may create some difficulties in the presence of grandchildren or when cleaning the doll.

The introduction of child representation therapy may also require additional staff training and time. Non-pharmacological interventions such as child representation, however, have been shown to be cost-effective.

Could robots be the future?

The use of more interactive empathy dolls and pet-like robots is also gaining popularity.

While robots have been shown to be feasible and acceptable in dementia care, there remains some contention about their benefits.

While some studies have shown positive outcomes, including reduced agitation, others show no improvement in cognition, behaviour or quality of life among people with dementia.

Advances in artificial intelligence are also being used to help support people living with dementia and inform the community.

Viv and Friends, for example, are AI companions who appear on a screen and can interact with the person with dementia in real time. The AI character Viv has dementia and was co-created with women living with dementia using verbatim scripts of their words, insights and experiences. While Viv can share her experience of living with dementia, she can also be programmed to talk about common interests, such as gardening.

These companions are currently being trialled in some residential aged care facilities and to help educate people on the lived experience of dementia.

How should you respond to your loved one’s empathy doll?

While child representation can be a useful adjunct in dementia care, it requires sensitivity and appropriate consideration of the person’s needs.

People living with dementia may not perceive the social world the same way as a person without dementia. But a person living with dementia is not a child and should never be treated as one.

Ensure all family, friends and care workers are informed about the attachment to the empathy doll to help avoid unintentionally causing distress from inappropriate handling of the doll.

If using an interactive doll, ensure spare batteries are on hand.

Finally, it is important to reassess the attachment over time as the person’s response to the empathy doll may change.

Nikki-Anne Wilson, Postdoctoral Research Fellow, Neuroscience Research Australia (NeuRA), UNSW Sydney

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

Next month’s federal budget update is expected to revise down company tax receipts for the first time since 2020, amid continued low economic growth in the near term.

In his Wednesday ministerial statement on the economy, the forecasts remained subdued but Treasurer Jim Chalmers emphasised the upside.

Chalmers said any growth was welcome, given many countries’ economies have gone backwards. Treasury was expecting a gradual recovery “driven by rising real incomes thanks to our cost-of-living relief, jobs growth and progress bringing inflation down,” he said.

Consumer confidence was already showing a modest recovery and households were feeling more confident about the next year, Chalmers said.

“This is the soft landing we have been planning for and preparing for,” he said. “Inflation coming back to band, an economy still growing and unemployment with a 4 in front of it.”

Chalmers said while there was still data to come, including on the national accounts and tax collection, before the December budget update (titled the Mid-Year Economic and Fiscal Outlook), the Treasury’s current estimate was that any revenue upgrade would be a “sliver” of Labor’s earlier budget updates.

In each of Labor’s earlier budget updates, revenue upgrades averaged $80 billion.

But this trend is diminishing with the labour market softening, and problems in the Chinese economy hitting commodity prices. Iron ore prices are down more than 30% since the start of the year.

Treasury’s latest inflation forecasts are generally in line with the May budget.

“Treasury expected inflation to be back in the [Reserve Bank’s target band of 2–3%] by the end of this year, and that’s what happened,” Chalmers said.

He said government spending wasn’t the main driver of prices and the government’s budget surpluses were assisting the fight against inflation – “points Governor Bullock has repeatedly made”.

With wages growing and inflation falling, “real wages are growing again. They were going backwards by 3.4% when we came to office,” Chalmers said.

“Real wages grew by 0.7% in the year to September – the largest annual increase in over four years, and there’s now been four consecutive quarters of real wages growth.

"The average full-time worker is now earning $159 more per week since we came to office. For women it’s $173 per week more. Since we came to government, wages in industries dominated by women have risen by more than 8%,” Chalmers said.

In his reply, Shadow Treasurer Angus Taylor said there was “nothing soft” about the landing.

He said prices were still rising, and “there is nothing soft about the pain Australians are feeling”.

“On nearly every metric, Australians are not better off than they were almost three years ago,” Taylor said.

Labor had added $315 billion of spending, boosting inflation. “That is $30,000 per household of extra spending,” he said. “The RBA has said extra government spending is making their job harder.”

Michelle Grattan, Professorial Fellow, University of Canberra

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

If you’re buying a house near a river or on a floodplain, you will likely come up against the question of flood risk. We usually talk about this in terms of chance.

Houses close to the river might be at risk of a 1-in-100 year flood, meaning there’s a 1% chance a flood could hit in any given year. Houses further back might be at risk of a 1-in-500 year flood (0.2% chance). Truly extreme floods might be 1-in-1,000 or even 10,000 years. This way of thinking about flood risk is technically known as an Annual Exceedance Probability (AEP).

What does flood risk translate to? Our recent research found houses in the New South Wales town of Richmond with an AEP of 100 – meaning a 1-in-100 year flood – come at a discount of almost 11% compared to similar homes without the risk. We are prepared to pay less for houses we think might flood.

But what’s really interesting is how quickly this discount drops off. A house in an AEP 500 zone (1-in-500 years) has a 4.4% discount. There’s no discount for houses in an AEP 1,000 zone, at risk from a 1-in-1,000 year flood. People simply ignore this risk as if it doesn’t exist. But it does. The floods which devastated Lismore in 2022 were roughly 1-in-1,000 year floods – so extreme we think it won’t happen. But it can and does.

When we assess the risk of natural disasters, we often ignore or underestimate events with a low probability but high severity. But as climate change makes floods worse and worse, this is a problem. The lethal floods in Spain came after a year’s worth of rain fell in a few hours in some areas. We underestimate floods at our peril.

What a flood-prone town tells us about risk

When we think of the risk of natural disasters such as bushfires, floods and earthquakes, our perceptions tend to be bounded by thresholds. We focus on the most likely threats and tend to ignore or play down the risk of severe events with low probability.

This may have made sense historically. But this approach won’t cut it in the future. Climate change is already making severe floods more likely, including flash floods and rivers breaking their banks.

For authorities tasked with managing flood risk, this poses a major challenge. The gap between how we see these risks and the actual threat they pose could lead to major losses of lives and property. Our research suggests people stop assessing risk beyond 1-in-500 year floods (AEP 500).

In our research, we looked at Richmond, a flood-prone town of about 14,500 people in the Hawkesbury-Nepean Valley in New South Wales, and surrounding areas. This area has a long history of significant and dangerous flooding.

In the last few years, it has had five major floods, in February 2020, March 2021 and March, April and July 2022. Major floods here indicate the river has risen over 12 metres.

We used home sales data and the region’s digital flood maps to gauge how people were assessing risk in flood-prone areas.

Digital flood maps are widely used to assess the risk of flood at a specific location. In 2019, the NSW government conducted a regional flood study for the 500 square kilometre Hawkesbury-Nepean Valley, capitalising on advances in flood modelling and changes to the floodplain. These maps were updated in 2023. We used both of these maps so we could verify our findings and see how changes in the updated version changed people’s perception of risks.

These maps are very influential, as they directly shape how people see the risk of floods near them. We found these maps have strengthened residents’ perceptions of flood risk.

For instance, houses with the same flood risk levels across both 2019 and 2023 flood maps saw greater drops in price compared to houses where the risk level had changed or was unclear.

In recent years, insurers have jacked up flood insurance premiums, which could mean affected residents underinsure themselves in the future. In 2023, Richmond’s median house price was A$825,000. But if it was in the 1-in-100 AEP 100 flooding zone, our research suggests it would be discounted by about 11% ($89,100).

But while the upfront cost may be less, owners of these homes will have to pay substantially higher insurance premiums as long as they own it. Getting insurance in a AEP 100 flood zone can be much more expensive than people think.

For authorities, these maps help identify areas most vulnerable to extreme flood events, such as over a 1-in-500 year flood.

As we prepare for more severe floods hitting more often, authorities need to give people as much notice as possible.

Ahead of a major rain event, we suggest authorities should release digital flood maps of areas likely to be affected – including different AEP levels. If a extreme flood (1-in-500 years or more) is likely, people living in areas with little or no flooding in their lifetimes will be affected. They need to know. 

Song Shi, Associate Professor, Property Economics, University of Technology Sydney; Mustapha Bangura, Lecturer in Property Economics, University of Technology Sydney, and Sumita Ghosh, Associate Professor in Planning, University of Technology Sydney

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

The Albanese government has been put on the spot by a new agreement – which it has declined to join – signed by the United Kingdom and the United States to speed up the deployment of “cutting edge” nuclear technology.

The original version of the British government’s press release announcing the agreement said Australia, among a number of other countries, was expected to sign it.

But the reference was removed from the statement.

The UK Energy Secretary Ed Miliband and the US deputy Secretary of Energy David Turk signed the agreement in Baku during COP29.

The agreement promotes nuclear technology to help decarbonise industry and boost energy security.

A spokesperson for Energy Minister Chris Bowen, who is at the COP meeting, said: “Australia is not signing this agreement as we do not have a nuclear energy industry.

"We recognise that some countries may choose to use nuclear energy, depending on national circumstances.

"Our international partners understand that Australia’s abundance of renewable energy resources makes nuclear power, including nuclear power through small modular reactors, an unviable option for inclusion in our energy mix for decarbonisation efforts.”

Australia would remain as observers to the agreement to continue to support its scientists in other nuclear research fields, the spokesperson said.

Opposition leader Peter Dutton said “Australia is starting to become an international embarrassment under Chris Bowen and Mr Albanese”.

In parliament, acting Prime Minister Richard Marles said for Australia to pursue a path of nuclear energy would add $1200 to the bills of each household in this country.

The statement from the British government said the agreement “will help pool together billions of pounds worth of nuclear research and development – including the world’s leading academic institutions and nuclear innovators”.

New technologies such as advanced modular reactors could help decarbonise heavy industry including aviation fuel, and hydrogen or advanced steel production, the statement said.

Nuclear power is at the heart of the Dutton opposition’s energy policy. The Coalition has identified seven sites around the country for proposed nuclear power plants.

Update: UK government seeks to clear things up

Later The Guardian reportred: “The UK government has conceded it made a mistake in including Australia in a list of countries that has signed up to a US-UK civil nuclear deal”.

Michelle Grattan, Professorial Fellow, University of Canberra

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

Hardware giant Bunnings breached the privacy of “likely hundreds of thousands” of Australians through its use of facial recognition technology, the Privacy Commissioner ruled today.

“Individuals who entered the relevant Bunnings stores at the time would not have been aware that facial recognition technology was in use and especially that their sensitive information was being collected, even if briefly,” the commissioner Carly Kind said.

The ruling is the culmination of a two-year investigation. Bunnings claimed it is “deeply disappointed” by the decision, and is seeking a review.

The commissioner did not seek to impose a fine on Bunnings for the breach of privacy.

If the ruling stands, it could have big implications for Australian shoppers and retailers. It also strengthens the case for removing a significant loophole in Australia’s privacy law.

Right now, that loophole allows businesses to collect your biometric information without your explicit consent by simply putting up signs.

An elaborate profiling system

Bunnings is a hardware and garden supplies chain with more than 500 stores across Australia and New Zealand. It is owned by Wesfarmers and in 2023 had a total revenue of $18.54 billion.

Bunnings ran a trial of a facial recognition technology system between January 2019 and November 2021 in at least 62 stores in Victoria and New South Wales. This followed an earlier two-month trial in one store, which started in November 2018.

The system was incorporated into security cameras and captured the facial image of every person who entered a store. The system then analysed these images to create a searchable database of facial images.

The person’s file could be assigned to a range of categories. These included:

• non-threatening
• individuals who had engaged in “actual or threatened violence” to Bunnings’ staff or members of the public
• individuals who had demonstrated “violent, threatening or other inappropriate behaviour”
• individuals who had engaged in “serious cases of theft”
• individuals who were reasonably suspected of committing “organised retail crime”.

Bunnings stated its “sole and clear intent” in conducting the trial was to keep team members and customers safe and prevent unlawful activity.

No consent

The privacy commissioner launched an investigation into Bunnings in July 2022. This followed a report from consumer advocacy group CHOICE about the company’s use of facial recognition technology.

The commissioner acknowledged the potential of facial recognition technology to reduce violence and theft. However, she added:

any possible benefits need to be weighed against the impact on privacy rights, as well as our collective values as a society.

In this case, the commissioner found Bunnings’ use of facial recognition technology breached Australian privacy law because the company did not obtain consent from its customers nor inform them it was collecting their biometric information.

The commissioner ordered Bunnings not to continue or repeat the practice in the future. She also ordered Bunnings to destroy all of the personal and sensitive information of its customers it still holds (after 12 months), and to publish a statement about the ruling online within 30 days.

However, the commissioner has not applied to the Federal Court to impose a financial penalty on Bunnings for the privacy breach. If she had done so, as a “body corporate” Bunnings could have faced a maximum fine of $50 million.

Australian retailers are now on notice

Despite the lack of a fine against Bunnings, this ruling may still have a number of significant implications for Australian shoppers and retailers.

First, it could lead to a more thoughtful and ethical use of technology in retail environments. Alongside the ruling, the commissioner’s office released clear guidance on the application of the Privacy Act to facial recognition technology in the hope it will help companies follow the letter of the law.

Second, the ruling reinforces a broad definition of biometric information introduced by the privacy commissioner last year, in a case against facial recognition company Clearview AI.

During a hearing at the Administrative Appeals Tribunal, the commissioner stated that “even a photograph could be described as one of the lower levels of biometric recognition”. The tribunal accepted this definition.

In this case against Bunnings, the privacy commissioner has applied that definition. This puts retailers on notice. They will no longer be able to hide behind claims that they “just collect video information but not biometric data”. Any image of a face is a potential source of biometric data and therefore should be protected under privacy law.

We need to fix this legal loophole

The ruling against Bunnings also strengthens the case for a more thorough update to Australian privacy law.

At present, the law doesn’t specifically require businesses to obtain express consent when collecting biometric information. It only requires them to obtain “consent”.

This assumes that implied consent is valid, which is achievable, for example, by erecting signs informing customers upon entry that there is a facial recognition camera on the premises. This suggests that if you enter, you agree for your facial information to be collected.

This loophole was overlooked in the proposed privacy reforms released by the federal government earlier this year.

The Bunnings case clearly demonstrates the need for an updated and clear legal definition of consent to protect peoples’ privacy. It also demonstrates the need for additional legal tools to protect biometric information, such as a technical standard for facial recognition technology.

This standard could then be enforced by a statutory authority, which would issue licences to businesses wanting to use facial recognition technology, as well as conduct regular audits and checks to ensure the standard is being upheld.

Margarita Vladimirova, PhD in Privacy Law and Facial Recognition Technology, Deakin University

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

Australia’s gender pay gap has been shrinking year by year, but is still over 20% among Australia’s private companies, a new national report card shows.

But that gender gap is even bigger at 25% among chief executive officers, according to figures collected for the first time in 2023–24.

And the widest gap of all is among older workers, with women in their late 50s typically earning $53,000 less each year than men the same age.

The release of the scorecard coincides with the federal government announcing it will introduce legislation this week requiring employers to set gender targets for boards, for narrowing the pay gap and for providing flexible work hours.

These and other measures will apply to companies with 500 or more employees. They build on legislative changes that enables the Workplace Gender Equality Agency to publish the size of their gender pay gaps, which came into effect this year.

Tracking Australia’s gender pay gap

Each year, the gender equality agency measures the gender equality performance of all private sector employers with 100 or more employees. This adds up to more than 7,000 employers and 5 million employees nationally.

Drawing on data collected in the annual employer census, the agency looks at several key indicators including gender composition of the workforce, gender balance of boards and governing bodies and equal pay for equal work.

One important indicator is the gender gap in average total remuneration. This is calculated for all employees – full-time, part-time and casual – by converting employees’ pay into a full-time annualised equivalent.

The gap continued to shrink in the past year to 21.1%. This has been largely fuelled by growth in the pay of the lowest-earning women in the workforce.

This came about, in part, because in June 2023, the Fair Work Commission awarded a 15% minimum pay rise to several aged care awards, where women hold 80% of jobs. Raises were also given to the retail trade, accommodation and food services sectors, also large employers of women.

Another reason the gap narrowed was because the remuneration of women managers rose by 5.9% from 2022-2023, compared to men’s which increased by 4.4% over the same period.

A bigger gap among high earners

The increase was particularly significant for high earning women (up 6.3%) compared to high earning men (4.1%). However, men still outnumber women in management, holding 58% of positions.

For the first time in 2023-24, the agency collected CEO salaries. The gender gap in CEO total remuneration was 25%.

Just one in four CEOs are women, and the gender pay gap for these key roles is the largest of all management roles. Women CEOs are paid, on average, $158,632 less total remuneration than men.

When CEO salaries are added into the mix, the overall gender pay gap stretches to 21.8%.

Little change for women on boards

The gender agency knows that women’s representation on governing boards matters for steering organisational change towards gender equality, monitoring these changes on the scorecard.

However the overall percentage of women on boards has hardly budged in recent years, at around one-third.

And about one-quarter of companies have no women on their governing board at all. This share is even higher in male-dominated industries, such as construction where the boards of 55% of companies are all men.

Women in their late 50s face the biggest pay gap

In dollars, it means Australian women are earning, on average, $28,425 less each year than their male colleagues.

This gap widens further among older workers. At its widest point, women aged 55 to 59 years are earning $53,000 less each year than men – a gap of 32.6%.

One of the big drivers of this pay gap are gender patterns in different industries and occupations.

The gender agency’s scorecard shows that half of all private sector employees work in an industry that is either male-dominated or female-dominated, meaning its workforce least 60% of a single gender.

It’s been a longstanding feature of the workforce that male-dominated industries outstrip the average earnings are female-dominated industries of education and training, and health care and social assistance.

How supportive are employers?

The workplace gender agency also measures employers’ policies supporting work and family balance, such as flexible hours and extra paid parental leave on top of minimal government provisions.

The finding that more employers are offering paid parental leave, rising from 63% to 68% in the past year, is a tick on the scorecard.

Men’s involvement in caregiving has a direct impact, enabling women’s involvement in the workforce. The proportion of parental leave being taken by men is up from 14% to 17%.

These improvements are set to increase under the government’s new legislation.

Providing a safe workplace

The final indicator on the scorecard looks at employers’ actions to prevent and respond to sexual harassment and discrimination in their workplace, as required under new Respect@Work laws.

Almost all (99%) of employers report having a policy in place. But there is scope for improvement in other ways.

Almost half (40%) don’t monitor the outcomes of sexual harassment and discrimination complaints and half don’t review the policy and consult with employees. As well, about 25% don’t incorporate inclusive and respectful behaviour into regular performance evaluation.

How reporting can drive change

As with any report card, there are marks for effort.

In the last year, 75% of companies reported they had analysed their own organisation’s gender pay gap and had made changes. This was up from 60% the previous year.

The gender agency attributes this to the publication of individual organisation’s gender pay gaps for the first time earlier this year.

Almost half (45%) of employers are now setting goals to improve gender equality. This includes targets to boost the number of women in management, reduce the gender pay gap and to achieve a gender-balance in their governing body.

These higher aspirations are likely to also be a response to plans to make target-setting part of the requirements for bidding for government contracts.

These changes show how incentives can bring about improvements. They arose from the 2021 Review to the Workplace Gender Equality Act that used research-based insights, data and community consultation to develop practical steps to reduce the gap and improve conditions for women.

Leonora Risse, Associate Professor in Economics, University of Canberra

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

Last week, the federal government announced a plan to roll out an anti-vaping program in schools across the country.

The education program, called OurFutures, aims to prevent young people taking up vaping. It has been developed by experts from the University of Sydney’s Matilda Centre for Research in Mental Health and Substance Use with input from educators and young people.

So why do we need this program, what will it involve, and will it be an effective way to stop young people taking up vaping? Let’s take a closer look.

Vaping is on the rise

A survey of Australian high school students in 2022–23 showed almost one in three reported having tried vaping, while one in six had vaped in the previous month.

This represents a significant increase over time, with rates of both lifetime (ever) vaping and vaping in the past month more than doubling since 2017.

However, since this data were collected, new laws to control the supply of and access to vapes have been introduced, which aim to reduce the prevalence of vaping.

Evidence showing the harmful effects of vaping is mounting. A 2022 review found vaping was linked to a range of negative health outcomes including poisoning, addiction, burns to the face, hands and thighs, lung injury, and an increased likelihood of taking up tobacco smoking.

Vapes, or e-cigarettes, have been found to contain a number of chemicals known to cause cancer, including formaldehyde, acetone, and heavy metals such as nickel and lead. This means young vapers are breathing in chemicals found in nail polish remover, plastics, weed killer and industrial glues.

Although we don’t yet understand the longer-term health effects of vaping, the evidence we have so far indicates it’s vital to stop as many people taking up this habit as possible.

What will the program entail?

OurFutures is designed for children in years 7 and 8 based on research evidence. Students are guided through four online lessons, each of which uses a variety of activities and resources to educate them about the harms of vaping. Lessons also cover information on the impact of social media, assertive communication, and how and where to seek help.

The government says the program will be able to reach more than 3,000 schools across Australia.

Our research and that of others indicates this is an optimal age to reach young people, as it’s a time when they are starting to experiment and take up vapes.

This program is also extremely timely, as young people have told us they want vaping prevention messages in their schools to help them make informed decisions. These young people recognise there’s a lack of credible information available.

Equally, school professionals (such as principals and teachers) recognise they are unable to deal with the issue of vaping among students on their own, and have been calling for support.

The OurFutures program is currently being trialled in 40 schools across New South Wales, Queensland and Western Australia.

Initial results have been positive. Just after students had completed the program, they knew more about the harms of vaping, and they reported reduced intentions to vape.

However, to our knowledge, full results from the trial have yet to be released. It’s also unclear whether these results will be maintained in the longer term.

A review of school-based vaping prevention programs found that although many interventions improved knowledge, attitudes and intentions around vaping in the short term, these effects were not always maintained.

However, this review also suggested programs delivered over multiple sessions, as is the case with OurFutures, were effective in preventing young people taking up vaping over longer periods.

An important element of any public health program is its capacity to be tailored to different populations. Australia is a culturally and linguistically diverse country, with urban, regional, and remote populations. It’s currently not clear if and how the program will take these differences into account.

The program should be part of a broader approach

Providing evidence-based, rational information in this way should help many young people doing this program better understand the potential health risks of vaping, and in turn think twice about doing it.

However, school-based education programs are only one strategy in a suite of strategies needed to address youth vaping. Relying solely on young people to change their behaviour is unrealistic and not best practice.

Young people operate in communities, influenced by family, social norms, and societal structures. Education is great, but we need to stop the exposure and access to these harmful products.

Fortunately, Australia’s crackdown on vaping is world-leading. We welcome recently announced vaping reforms, including stopping the importation of vapes, selling them solely behind the pharmacy counter, and restricting flavours, which limit their accessibility and appeal for school students.

Since these vape regulations were introduced the Australian Border Force has stopped hundreds of thousands of vapes entering Australia.

The recent Public Health (Tobacco and Other Products) Act 2023 also restricts the advertising and promotion of vapes, including on social media. This means the same bans that apply to tobacco advertising now also apply to vapes.

Our research shows vaping has been widely promoted to young people on social media. Social media companies must ensure the health of their users is prioritised over commercial interests.

Just last week the government called for a “digital duty of care”, which would require social media companies to take steps to create a safer online environment for all Australians.

Ultimately, the national vaping prevention program for Australian school students is a positive step. But it needs to be complemented by a range of strategies and continued government investment to support our young people to avoid or stop vaping.

Jonine Jancey, Academic and Director Collaboration for Evidence, Research and Impact in Public Health, Curtin University and Renee Carey, Senior Research Fellow, School of Population Health, Curtin University

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

Ten years ago, a late-night cigarette started a fire that spread rapidly up 13 storeys on the Lacrosse apartment building in Melbourne. The November 24 fire caused more than A$5.7 million in damages, but thankfully no lives were lost.

Investigators found Lacrosse was covered in flammable cladding. It’s a building defect that increases serious fire risk.

Ten years on, has enough changed to reduce such defects, or is there more to do?

Our research finds progress is being made, but the construction industry has a long way to go. For example, even the basic work of identifying which buildings have flammable cladding is not complete in many locations. We have identified four key areas – design and construction, regulation and compliance, quality assurance and consumer protection – where changes are still needed.

What has happened since Lacrosse?

The Lacrosse fire prompted the Victorian Building Authority to investigate the use of flammable cladding in the CBD and inner city. Its findings revealed a high rate of non-compliance with building standards for external wall cladding materials. Yet it was deemed that, aside from one building, the safety of occupants was not at risk.

The following year (2017), 72 lives were lost in the Grenfell Tower disaster in the UK. The state government then formed the Victorian Cladding Taskforce. The taskforce found “significant public safety issues, which are symptomatic of broader non-compliance across a range of areas within the industry”.

Other reports followed in Australia and overseas. Among these were the 2018 Hackitt report (UK) and 2018 Shergold and Weir report (Australia) that identified systemic failings across the design and construction sectors. These reports found there were ongoing challenges, despite the earlier building fires, and a history of dangerous defects such as asbestos and structural building issues.

In Australia, changes to the National Construction Code have followed. Flammable aluminium composite panels and the use of rendered expanded polystyrene as external wall cladding were banned.

More than 3,000 residential buildings in Australia were identified as having flammable cladding. Making these buildings safe has been costly. It has had major impacts on the finances, health and wellbeing of apartment owners.

A decade on from the Lacrosse fire, it is time to reflect on what we have learned. Beyond creating fire-safe buildings, we need to think about how to avoid the next deadly housing defect.

What needs to change?

Our research finds change is needed in four key areas.

1. Design and construction

The construction industry has systemic issues that stand in the way of ensuring it designs and constructs buildings that are liveable, defect-free, high-quality and sustainable.

The focus on costs over quality means limited consideration is given to what happens to buildings once they have been handed over to owners. The industry must take greater responsibility for delivering buildings that meet the needs of occupants now and into the future. If we build right to begin with, we can avoid many defect issues.

2. Regulation and compliance

Regulation is typically slow to change. The construction industry often resists reforms. There have also been too many grey areas and “gaps” in regulation that have been open to interpretation.

Stronger regulations need to be enforced. There must be significant consequences for non-compliance. This will better protect consumers and ensure the industry, at the very least, is meeting minimum standards.

Construction companies should strive to go beyond these standards and demonstrate corporate social responsibility, especially towards the people who occupy their buildings. Corporate greed and unethical practices, such as falsifying fire tests, have contributed to the loss of life.

3. Quality assurance systems

Cladding fires and other defects exposed gaps in building material safety checks.

Materials used in construction need to be recorded in a central and accessible repository. The work of finding where flammable cladding is located is still not complete in many locations because we do not know what materials are in which buildings.

Building material passports offer an example of how materials could be located efficiently and in a transparent way. This is where information of the materials and technologies used in a development (including their location and other relevant information such as maintenance requirements) are stored in one place - typically an online platform. This solution is being explored in other countries.

4. Consumer protection and support

Building warranties have not protected consumers from defects, unlike other industries. Consumers have often found that, even within the warranty period, they cannot get remedial work done as builders and others know how to “play the system”.

Stronger and enforceable warranties are essential. Companies must also not be allowed to “phoenix” – closing one company and starting up another – to escape their responsibilities.

Also needed are clearer processes for households, industry and government to follow when dangerous defects emerge. These should include providing safe temporary housing and other support after a fire or other disaster.

Ten years on from Lacrosse, we still see flammable cladding fires around the world. Progress on recommendations from key reports on the construction industry’s issues has been limited. We remain at risk of another deadly defect emerging.

And, importantly, design and construction still do not adequately consider the protection of the building’s future occupants. We can do much more to improve residential construction. It will require further systemic changes, beyond banning flammable cladding.

Trivess Moore, Associate Professor, School of Property, Construction and Project Management, RMIT University and David Oswald, Associate Dean, School of Property, Construction and Project Management, RMIT University

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

When shopping for a laundry detergent, the array of choices is baffling. All of the products will likely get your laundry somewhat cleaner. But what gets the best outcome for your clothes and your budget?

Do you want whiter whites? Do you need enzymes? And what’s the difference between a powder and liquid detergent?

As is often the case, knowing more about the chemistry involved will help you answer those questions.

What is a detergent?

The active ingredients in both laundry powders and liquids are “surfactants”, also known as detergents (hence the product name). These are typically charged or “ionic” molecules that have two distinct parts to their structure. One part interacts well with water and the other interacts with oils.

This useful property allows surfactants to lift grease and grime from fabrics and suspend it in the water. Surfactants can also form bubbles.

Metal salts dissolved in your water can limit the performance of the surfactants. So-called hard water contains lots of dissolved calcium and magnesium salts which can readily form soap scum.

Modern laundry detergents therefore contain phosphates, water softeners and other metal “sequestrants” to stop the formation of soap scum. Phosphates can cause algal blooms in fresh water environments. This is why modern detergent formulations contain smaller amounts of phosphates.

Many products also contain optical brighteners. These chemicals absorb ultraviolet light and release blue light, which provides the “whiter white” or “brighter colour” phenomenon.

Laundry detergents typically contain fragrances. These aren’t essential to the chemistry of cleaning, but give the impression the clothes are fresh.

Lastly, some laundry detergents contain enzymes – more on those later.

What’s in laundry powder?

While detergents and ingredients to avoid soap scum are the most important components, they aren’t the most abundant. The main ingredients in powders are salts (like sodium sulfate) that add bulk and stop the powder from clumping.

Another common salt added to laundry powders is sodium carbonate, also known as washing soda. Washing soda (a chemical cousin of baking soda) helps to chemically modify grease and grime so they dissolve in water.

Laundry powders also frequently contain oxidising agents like sodium percarbonate. This is a stable combination of washing soda and hydrogen peroxide. An additive known as tetraacetylethylenediamine activates the percarbonate to give a mild bleaching effect.

Chemically, powders have an advantage – their components can be formulated and mixed but kept separate in a solid form. (You can usually see different types of granules in your laundry powder.)

What’s in laundry liquid?

The main ingredient of laundry liquid is water. The remaining ingredients have to be carefully considered. They must be stable in the bottle and then work together in the wash.

These include similar ingredients to the powders, such as alkaline salts, metal sequestrants, water softeners and surfactants.

The surfactants in liquid products are often listed as “ionic” (charged) and “non-ionic” (non-charged). Non-ionic surfactants can be liquid by default, which makes them inappropriate for powdered formulations. Non-ionic surfactants are good at suspending oils in water and don’t form soap scum.

Liquid detergents also contain preservatives to prevent the growth of microbes spoiling the mixture.

There are also microbial implications for inside the washing machine. Liquid products can’t contain the peroxides (mild bleaching agents) found in powdered products. Peroxides kill microbes. The absence of peroxides in liquid detergents makes it more likely for mould biofilms to form in the machine and for bacteria to be transferred between items of clothing.

As an alternative to peroxides, liquids will typically contain only optical brighteners.

Liquids do have one advantage over powders – they can be added directly to stains prior to placing the item in the wash.

A recent “convenience” version of liquid formulas are highly concentrated detergent pods. Colourful and bearing a resemblance to sweet treats, these products have been found to be dangerous to young children and people with cognitive impairment.

Pods also remove the option to add less detergent if you’re running a smaller load or just want to use less detergent in general.

So, what about enzymes?

Enzymes are naturally evolved proteins included in laundry products to remove specific stains. Chemically, they are catalysts – things that speed up chemical reactions.

Enzymes are named for the molecules they work on, followed by the ending “-ase”. For example, lipase breaks down fats (lipids), protease breaks down protein, while amylase and mannanase break down starches and sugars.

These enzymes are derived from organisms found in cool climate regions, which helps them function at the low temperature of washing water.

Running an excessively hot wash cycle can damage or denature the enzyme structure, stopping them from assisting in your wash. Think of an egg white changing from translucent to white while cooked – that’s protein denaturing.

If your detergent contains enzymes, the washing temperature should be neither too hot nor too cold. As a guide, temperatures of 15–20°C are used in standard laundry tests.

Is powder or liquid better?

We make consumer choices guided by performance, psychology, cost, scent, environmental considerations and convenience.

It’s worth experimenting with different products to find what works best for you and fits your needs, household budget and environmental considerations, such as having recyclable packaging.

Personally, I wash at 20°C with half the recommended dose of a pleasant-smelling laundry powder, packaged in recyclable cardboard, and containing a wide range of enzymes and an activated peroxide source.

Knowing a little chemistry can go a long way to getting your clothes clean.

However, laundry detergent manufacturers don’t always disclose the full list of ingredients on their product packaging.

If you want more information on what’s in your product, you have to look at the product website. You can also dig a little deeper by reading documents called safety data sheets (SDS). Every product containing potentially hazardous chemicals must have an SDS.

Nathan Kilah, Senior Lecturer in Chemistry, University of Tasmania

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

Year 12 exams are finishing around Australia and celebrations are beginning. Thousands of students will mark the end of high school in coming weeks with “schoolies”.

This is an important rite of passage for many young Australians. About 20,000 school leavers are expected to party at Surfers Paradise in one of the main schoolies celebrations. Other festivals are planned for Lorne in Victoria, Victor Harbor in South Australia, Byron Bay in New South Wales, Bali and Fiji.

I am an expert in young people’s health and safety at large-scale events. What steps can you take to stay safe at schoolies and make sure you have a great time?

1. Plan ahead

Having a plan can reduce stress and help keep everyone on track.

Know where you’ll be staying and how you’ll get there and back from the main events. Check to see if there are free bus services and how to access them.

The schoolies websites can also help you plan where to get food, water, charge your phones and seek medical help.

2. Plan what you bring

Don’t take too many valuables. When you’re thinking about your outfit, think about where you phone will go so it is safe. A bum bag can be a great way to keep things secure.

Believe it or not the main reasons for using the medical tent is twists and sprains of ankles and cuts and blisters from shoes – so take comfortable footwear that is good for dancing and walking around.

3. Stay in groups

You will have already decided who you are going to hang out before you go. So stick with your friends and look out for each other. Avoid going anywhere alone, especially at night, and always organise a meet up spot if you do get separated or your phone dies.

Before you go, talk with friends about how you will support each other. Is someone designated as a non-drinker for the evening? Do you want to organise an hourly check-in on a group chat?

4. Stay in safe places

Only attend official events and parties. These areas are well lit and there is security and medical assistance available if you or your friends need it.

5. Know your limits

Think about how many drinks you can have beforehand – understand your limits and carry some water and snacks.

If you are feeling like you need a rest, you could try the nearest chill out tent. It’s a great way to make new friends and there are free drinks and snacks

If you are considering taking pills, go and visit the drug checking site. Drug checking is free and confidential and will let you know what you are taking to stay safe.

What if something scary or unexpected happens?

There are peer-support programs at schoolies to help you if you are upset or stressed.

On the Gold Coast, you can look out for Red Frogs or the Schoolies Support Team, who are there to support young people at events where alcohol is consumed.

In South Australia, there is the Green Team, who are young people from Christian backgrounds. The Green Team will stay with you while you are looking for your friends, walk you back to your tent and they know where all the free eating spots are.

In main schoolies areas there will also be police walking around and security guards, depending on the event. All of these people are there to give judgment-free support – so you will not get into trouble if you ask for help for yourself or one of your friends.

If a friend gets too drunk or has taken something and needs support, take them to a quieter spot with good lighting and stay with them. If you can, get someone else to go and find some help from the medical tent. Try and lay your friend on their side so that they can vomit, especially if they are passed out. Don’t try and give them water or more to drink, just make sure they are comfortable while someone is getting help.

If something scary happens – yell out and try and attract attention. Move into a well lit place if you can. Remember to trust your instincts and find a safe place.

Once you feel safe, tell event staff or police what happened – it helps them to look out and make sure it doesn’t happen again. You can also call 000 at any time.

Remember, schoolies is your event. With some simple planning you can make it a week you will always remember for the best reasons.

Alison Hutton, Professor of Nursing, Western Sydney University

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

The Albanese government will develop and legislate a “Digital Duty of Care” to place the onus on platforms to keep people safe and better prevent online harms, Communications Minister Michelle Rowland has announced.

In a speech to the Sydney Institute on Wednesday night, Rowland said a change of approach was needed.

“To date, the Online Safety Act has been a crucial tool for incentivising digital platforms to remove illegal content, usually applied remedially and case by case. However, it does not, in a fundamental sense, incentivise the design of a safer, healthier, digital platforms ecosystem.

"What’s required is a shift away from reacting to harms by relying on content regulation alone, and moving towards systems-based prevention, accompanied by a broadening of our perspective of what online harms are.”

The change would bring Australia into line with the United Kingdom and European Union approaches. Platforms would have to take reasonable steps to prevent foreseeable harms, underpinned by risk assessment and risk mitigation and informed by safety-by-design principles.

A duty of care was “a common law concept and statutory obligation that places a legal obligation to take reasonable steps to protect others from harm. It is a proven, workable and flexible model,” Rowland said.

“This, as part of a growing global effort, will deliver a more systemic and preventative approach to making online services safer and healthier.

"Where platforms seriously and systemically breach their duty of care we will ensure the regulator can draw on strong penalty arrangements,” Rowland said.

The duty of care model was recommended by a review of the Online Safety Act, which went to the government last month. The government brought forward the statutory review of the act by a year to ensure online safety laws were up to date.

The government says legislating a duty of care will mean tech platforms will need to continually identify and mitigate potential risks as technology and services alter.

The changes will support the existing complaint and removal schemes for illegal and harmful material. under the Online Safety Act.

Michelle Grattan, Professorial Fellow, University of Canberra

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

For more than a millennium, many Andean peoples used an object called a “khipu” (also spelled “quipu” and pronounced “key-poo”) to record and communicate information.

Khipus were made with cords or strings with knots tied into them. And experts understand that many, but not all, of these knots were used to represent numbers.

In a new study published today, I make a numeric connection between two important khipus from history – the first being being the largest khipu ever known and the other one of the most complex.

What were khipus used for?

While khipus were used in earlier times, they were especially important to the Inca Empire, which lasted from around 1438 CE to 1532 CE (when the empire was conquered by the Spanish). Since the Inca did not leave any written records, khipus are understood to have been their main system of communication and record-keeping.

Khipus were commonly made from either cotton or fibres sourced from camelids (the group of animals that includes camels, llamas and alpacas). These materials could be dyed or left naturally coloured. Some khipus even include plant fibres, while several incorporate human hair.

It seems specially-trained khipu makers (“khipukamayuqs”) made very deliberate decisions when constructing these record-keeping tools. These decisions related to the colours used, the direction of spin and ply of the cord fibres, the spacing and type of the cord attachments, and the structure and position of the knots.

Early Spanish chroniclers wrote about the khipu’s various numeric applications, which included recording storehouse inventories, population censuses and tax and tribute obligations.

A new numeric connection

For more than a century, researchers have been studying khipu features in hopes that patterns may emerge from a collective view. In recent decades their data have been digitised, which is now freely available via the Open Khipu Repository and the Khipu Field Guide.

For my research, I analysed the data from two khipus found in northern Chile and first recorded by ethno-mathematician Marcia Ascher and anthropologist Robert Ascher in the 1970s. One of these is the largest khipu ever found – spanning more than five metres in length and comprising more than 1800 cords (see the picture below). The other khipu (pictured in the header image) has almost 600 cords in complicated arrangements.

I noticed both khipus used red/white “divider” cords to separate groups of either tens or sevens. The larger khipu was divided into ten groups, with each group having seven cords. The smaller khipu was divided into seven groups, with each group having ten cords (and many subsidiary cords).

After examining and manipulating the data, I realised the smaller and more complex khipu is a summary and reallocation of the information in the larger khipu. In other words, the two khipus record the same data, but represent it differently.

This is the most complicated numeric connection between khipus made to date. It was only possible because of the availability of data and digital tools that make searching for patterns easier – and which wouldn’t have been available to Marcia Ascher back in the 1970s.

New khipu clues

While the numbers in these two khipus are counting and allocating something, we don’t yet know what that was. Why would it be necessary to have two khipus recording the same information in two different ways? We can only speculate.

Perhaps the larger khipu recorded the collection of different amounts of food crops from the community, while the other recorded how these foods were distributed between those in need, or between storehouses. Both ways of looking at the numbers would have been important to the people who used these khipus.

Experts believe only a tiny fraction of the khipus made throughout history have survived. This is partly because the institutions that used them eventually either became obsolete or used other means of recording after the conquest, combined with a climate that was less than ideal for textile preservation.

Today, about 1,600 khipus remain, residing mainly in collections in the Americas and Europe. Fewer than half of these have had their features digitally saved in research databases.

Through continued digitisation efforts, we hope to discover more khipu clues – and make new numeric connections that add to our understanding of ancient Andean peoples.

Karen Thompson, Research Data Specialist, The University of Melbourne

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

The iconic sound of an orchestra tuning is highly recognisable, even for those who’ve never set foot in a concert hall. Many of us first heard it while watching a Looney Tunes cartoon.

Have you ever wondered why the oboe begins the tuning? How is the starting note decided? With access to electronic tuning devices, along with advancements in materials and manufacturing enabling instruments to better sustain their pitch, is the tuning ritual still needed? What is the purpose, beyond building excitement or signalling the conductor’s entrance?

Whether or not professional orchestras’ tuning rituals are required, there is something inherently comforting about it for audiences.

Enter the oboe

The earliest orchestras, in the Baroque era, comprised a non-standard set of instruments. One combination could have been a harpsichord, a few string players (violin, viola, viola da gamba), one or more wind instruments, and perhaps even timpani.

As the number of string players grew in the orchestra, the flute replaced the quiet recorder.

The oboe brought complex, contrasting overtones, plus a limited yet stable tuning range controlled mostly by a pair of “fixed” reeds.

These factors made the oboe the practical choice as the tuning instrument in the Baroque era.

By the 1800s, the size and instrumentation were much like the modern orchestra. An order was added to the tuning ritual, with each “family” of instruments taking its turn to tune with the oboe.

When a fixed-pitch instrument, such as an organ, was included with the orchestra, the oboe would be tuned to it before the ritual began.

These tuning traditions continue today.

Constantly retuning

The tuning ritual heard by the audience is just the tip of the iceberg. Many instruments need micro-tuning adjustments throughout a performance.

Tuning can also slip, which may be caused when string or brass instruments need to use a mute. The mute lowers the volume and adds a different tonal quality, but it can also slightly alter the pitch of the instrument.

Tuning is also affected by changes in temperature or humidity as the instrument warms while being played or cools due to external changes.

Consider the weather during the opening ceremony of the 2024 Paris Olympics – it would have been challenging to keep the instruments in tune in the rain and extreme humidity.

Depending on the instrument, sometimes when the pitch slips it cannot be adjusted mid-performance.

In a recent concert I conducted at St Patrick’s Cathedral, Melbourne, the yidaki was slightly out of tune after being perfectly in tune two hours earlier in rehearsal. The difference? The yidaki’s wood was affected by a sudden drop in temperature when a thunderstorm came through mid-concert.

Pipe organs suffer the same fate at the mercy of the weather with their large, metal components.

What makes an ‘A’?

The traditional tuning note is A. This stems from the open A string being common to all orchestral string instruments.

The oboist plays a long A when instructed by the concert master – usually the lead violinist – who stands and indicates to the oboist and then to each section of the orchestra when it’s time to tune.

The string players tune their A strings, from which they can tune their other strings. In turn, other sections of the orchestra also tune to A. When the tuning ends and the instruments are silent, the orchestra is ready to perform.

This all seems straightforward, but there are variations on what an A should sound like. An audio frequency of A=440 hertz (Hz) is considered standard or “concert” pitch, although this is a fairly modern concept.

Tuning forks were invented in Europe in the early 1700s, around the same time as the emergence of orchestras. Based on tuning forks and organs remaining from the 18th and 19th centuries, such as Beethoven’s tuning fork, historians have identified concert pitches ranging from 395 to 465Hz.

Efforts to standardise concert pitch at A=440Hz arose in the 19th century, further reinforced in the 20th century.

Today, the pitch used may be decided by historically informed performance, adopting the likely tuning from when the music was composed. Giuseppe Verdi, for instance, campaigned for Italy to adopt concert pitch A=432Hz. Using the slightly lower tuning for Verdi’s Messa da Requiem is justifiable, allowing for the choir to execute extended high passages more comfortably.

In the 1960s, conductor Herbert von Karajan decided the Berlin Philharmonic sounded “brighter” when tuned to A=443–444Hz. This trend continues today for several prominent orchestras: The New York Philharmonic tunes to A=442Hz, and the Vienna Philharmonic to A=443Hz.

Changing rituals

Is the tuning ritual essential? It depends.

Earlier this year I saw Wicked. The orchestra tuned very quickly. Practicalities can trump ritual – especially on days with matinee and evening shows, each running almost three hours.

Symphony orchestras comprise mostly acoustic instruments. In contrast, modern musical theatre orchestras often include electronic instruments and a rhythm section, with synthesizers that don’t need tuning.

Compared with a large auditorium, a pit may have fewer temperature fluctuations. When needed, pit players use electronic tuning devices. Some play multiple instruments in each performance, which are tuned in advance and during the performance.

Despite contemporary advancements, the tradition of an orchestra tuning in the presence of an audience is a special, transcendent moment, unique to the live concert experience.

Kathleen McGuire, Senior Lecturer in Education (Music), National School of Education, Faculty of Education and Arts, Australian Catholic University

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

Imagine a number made up of a vast string of ones: 1111111…111. Specifically, 136,279,841 ones in a row. If we stacked up that many sheets of paper, the resulting tower would stretch into the stratosphere.

If we write this number in a computer in binary form (using only ones and zeroes), it would fill up only about 16 megabytes, no more than a short video clip. Converting to the more familiar way of writing numbers in decimal, this number – it starts out 8,816,943,275… and ends …076,706,219,486,871,551 – would have more than 41 million digits. It would fill 20,000 pages in a book.

Another way to write this number is 2136,279,841 – 1. There are a few special things about it.

First, it’s a prime number (meaning it is only divisible by itself and one). Second, it’s what is called a Mersenne prime (we’ll get to what that means). And third, it is to date the largest prime number ever discovered in a mathematical quest with a history going back more than 2,000 years.

The discovery

The discovery that this number (known as M136279841 for short) is a prime was made on October 12 by Luke Durant, a 36-year-old researcher from San Jose, California. Durant is one of thousands of people working as part of a long-running volunteer prime-hunting effort called the Great Internet Mersenne Prime Search, or GIMPS.

A prime number that is one less than some power of two (or what mathematicians write as 2 p – 1) is called a Mersenne prime, after the French monk Marin Mersenne, who investigated them more than 350 years ago. The first few Mersenne primes are 3, 7, 31 and 127.

Durant made his discovery through a combination of mathematical algorithms, practical engineering, and massive computational power. Where large primes have previously been found using traditional computer processors (CPUs), this discovery is the first to use a different kind of processor called a GPU.

GPUs were originally designed to speed up the rendering of graphics and video, and more recently have been repurposed to mine cryptocurrency and to power AI.
Durant, a former employee of leading GPU maker NVIDIA, used powerful GPUs in the cloud to create a kind of “cloud supercomputer” spanning 17 countries. The lucky GPU was an NVIDIA A100 processor located in Dublin, Ireland.

Primes and perfect numbers

Beyond the thrill of discovery, this advance continues a storyline that goes back millennia. One reason mathematicians are fascinated by Mersenne primes is that they are linked to so-called “perfect” numbers.

A number is perfect if, when you add together all the numbers that properly divide it, they add up to the number itself. For example, six is a perfect number because 6 = 2 × 3 = 1 + 2 + 3. Likewise, 28 = 4 × 7 = 1 + 2 + 4 + 7 + 14.

For every Mersenne prime, there is also an even perfect number. (In one of the oldest unfinished problems in mathematics, it is not known whether there are any odd perfect numbers.)

Perfect numbers have fascinated humans throughout history. For example, the early Hebrews as well as Saint Augustine considered six to be a truly perfect number, as God fashioned the Earth in precisely six days (resting on the seventh).

Practical primes

The study of prime numbers is not just a historical curiosity. Number theory is also essential to modern cryptography. For example, the security of many websites relies upon the inherent difficulty in finding the prime factors of large numbers.

The numbers used in so-called public-key cryptography (of the kind that secures most online activity, for example) are generally only a few hundred decimal digits, which is tiny compared with M136279841.

Nevertheless, the benefits of basic research in number theory – studying the distribution of prime numbers, developing algorithms for testing whether numbers are prime, and finding factors of composite numbers – often have downstream implications in helping to maintain privacy and security in our digital communication.

An endless search

Mersenne primes are rare indeed: the new record is more than 16 million digits larger than the previous one, and is only the 52nd ever discovered.

We know there are infinitely many prime numbers. This was proven by the Greek mathematician Euclid more than 2,000 years ago: if there were only a finite number of primes, we could multiply them all together and add one. The result would not be divisible by any of the primes we have already found, so there must always be at least one more out there.

But we don’t know whether there are infinitely many Mersenne primes – though it has been conjectured that there are. Unfortunately, they are too scarce for our techniques to detect.

For now, the new prime serves as a milestone in human curiosity and a reminder that even in an age dominated by technology, some of the deeper, tantalising secrets in the mathematical universe remain out of reach. The challenge remains, inviting mathematicians and enthusiasts alike to find the hidden patterns in the infinite tapestry of numbers.

And so the (mathematical) search for perfection will continue.

John Voight, Professor of Mathematics , University of Sydney

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

Meta will make its generative artificial intelligence (AI) models available to the United States’ government, the tech giant has announced, in a controversial move that raises a moral dilemma for everyone who uses the software.

Meta last week revealed it would make the models, known as Llama, available to government agencies, “including those that are working on defence and national security applications, and private sector partners supporting their work”.

The decision appears to contravene Meta’s own policy which lists a range of prohibited uses for Llama, including “[m]ilitary, warfare, nuclear industries or applications” as well as espionage, terrorism, human trafficking and exploitation or harm to children.

Meta’s exception also reportedly applies to similar national security agencies in the United Kingdom, Canada, Australia and New Zealand. It came just three days after Reuters revealed China has reworked Llama for its own military purposes.

The situation highlights the increasing fragility of open source AI software. It also means users of Facebook, Instagram, WhatsApp and Messenger – some versions of which use Llama – may inadvertently be contributing to military programs around the world.

What is Llama?

Llama is a collation of large language models – similar to ChatGPT – and large multimodal models that deal with data other than text, such as audio and images.

Meta, the parent company of Facebook, released Llama in response to OpenAI’s ChatGPT. The key difference between the two is that all Llama models are marketed as open source and free to use. This means anyone can download the source code of a Llama model, and run and modify it themselves (if they have the right hardware). On the other hand, ChatGPT can only be accessed via OpenAI.

The Open Source Initiative, an authority that defines open source software, recently released a standard setting out what open source AI should entail. The standard outlines “four freedoms” an AI model must grant in order to be classified as open source:

• use the system for any purpose and without having to ask for permission
• study how the system works and inspect its components
• modify the system for any purpose, including to change its output
• share the system for others to use with or without modifications, for any purpose.

Meta’s Llama fails to meet these requirements. This is because of limitations on commercial use, the prohibited activities that may be deemed harmful or illegal and a lack of transparency about Llama’s training data.

Despite this, Meta still describes Llama as open source.

The intersection of the tech industry and the military

Meta is not the only commercial technology company branching out to military applications of AI. In the past week, Anthropic also announced it is teaming up with Palantir – a data analytics firm – and Amazon Web Services to provide US intelligence and defence agencies access to its AI models.

Meta has defended its decision to allow US national security agencies and defence contractors to use Llama. The company claims these uses are “responsible and ethical” and “support the prosperity and security of the United States”.

Meta has not been transparent about the data it uses to train Llama. But companies that develop generative AI models often utilise user input data to further train their models, and people share plenty of personal information when using these tools.

ChatGPT and Dall-E provide options for opting out of your data being collected. However, it is unclear if Llama offers the same.

The option to opt out is not made explicitly clear when signing up to use these services. This places the onus on users to inform themselves – and most users may not be aware of where or how Llama is being used.

For example, the latest version of Llama powers AI tools in Facebook, Instagram, WhatsApp and Messenger. When using the AI functions on these platforms - such as creating reels or suggesting captions – users are using Llama.

The fragility of open source

The benefits of open source include open participation and collaboration on software. However, this can also lead to fragile systems that are easily manipulated. For example, following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022, members of the public made changes to open source software to express their support for Ukraine.

These changes included anti-war messages and deletion of systems files on Russian and Belarusian computers. This movement came to be known as “protestware”.

The intersection of open source AI and military applications will likely exacerbate this fragility because the robustness of open source software is dependent on the public community. In the case of large language models such as Llama, they require public use and engagement because the models are designed to improve over time through a feedback loop between users and the AI system.

The mutual use of open source AI tools marries two parties – the public and the military – who have historically held separate needs and goals. This shift will expose unique challenges for both parties.

For the military, open access means the finer details of how an AI tool operates can easily be sourced, potentially leading to security and vulnerability issues. For the general public, the lack of transparency in how user data is being utilised by the military can lead to a serious moral and ethical dilemma.

Zena Assaad, Senior Lecturer, School of Engineering, Australian National University

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

The social media platform TikTok has become a cultural phenomenon, influencing the behaviour and taste of its users in almost every area of life. From dance trends to skincare and make-up products, health hacks to fad diets, TikTok recommendations can go viral within minutes – and so can its health advice.

Some of the most searched educational videos on TikTok are on diet, exercise and sexual health.

“Fitspiration” is a popular social media hashtag aimed at motivating users to lead healthier lifestyles. “Fitspo” posts often include before and after images and or “aspirational” of photos of influencers with ideal body types. But numerous studies have found that many of these social media posts [can have a negative impact] on users’ mental health and promote or compound their body insecurities.

Social media has its upsides. For example it allows users to share their experiences of health issues. One study showed that 80% of cancer patients use social media to engage peers. But it can also help spread health misinformation.

For example, a 2023 survey conducted by Dublin City University found that 57% of Gen-Z and Millennial TikTok users are influenced by, or regularly adopt, nutrition trends from the platform. The same research also found that only 2.1% of the analysed nutrition content on TikTok proved to be accurate when compared to public health guidelines.

But this could be about to change. The World Health Organization (WHO) has announced a year-long partnership with TikTok to provide users with reliable, science-based evidence.

Healthcare professionals are already trying to raise levels of health literacy on social media, however. Doctors and specialists are publishing videos to educate users about melanoma and dark skin, for instance. These resources are much needed because, although melanoma is rarer in people with dark skin tones, the five-year survival rate is only 66%, compared to 90% in non-Hispanic whites. This is because melanoma is often diagnosed much later in people with darker skin.

Other cancer topics, such as laryngeal cancer, stomach cancer, thyroid cancer and breast cancer also show increased interaction from users. But while there are plenty of patient perspectives, there are far fewer and lower-quality resources from healthcare professionals.

A 2022 study found that of the most popular articles posted on social media in 2018 and 2019, on the four most common cancers, one in every three contained false, inaccurate or misleading information. And most of that misinformation about cancer was potentially harmful. For example, by promoting unproven treatments.

Stories shared by patients writing on social media about their cancer journeys can be powerful, particularly for users going through similar experiences. But they can also be scary – and are occasionally untrue.

Difficult subjects

Content about potentially embarrassing or intimate health issues have become popular on social media, which is often the first port of call when experiencing symptoms or after initial diagnosis.

Videos about anal fissures have attracted a significant number of views, while posts sharing experiences of intrauterine contraceptive devices have highlighted common side-effects that can help inform the contraceptive decisions of other users.

IVF is a valuable and growing discussion topic on social media, but more engagement is needed from experts to ensure the medical accuracy of advice and guidance.

Creating a force for good

Similarly, social media information on neurodevelopmental conditions, such as autism and ADHD, have seen a huge increase in viewer traffic. Celebrities, in particular, have used social media platforms to talk about their own diagnoses and urge or inspire others to seek help. For example, Tom Stoltman, the current reigning and three times World’s Strongest Man, has spoken openly about his autism diagnosis and how it can be a superpower.

The growing challenges around mental health diagnoses are a double-edged sword on social media. The availability of information can help understanding of conditions – but it can also fuel self-diagnoses, which are increasing and can cause strain on healthcare systems and potential harm to patients.

Various studies highlight the issue of health misinformation on social media. One study showed that X (formerly Twitter) had the highest level of misinformation. Many of the studies assessing social media health content show that less than 30% is medically accurate.

So, while social media health posts can be beneficial for those looking for patient perspectives, it’s important that users are also able to access high-quality, medically accurate resources from qualified professionals.

Hopefully, the WHO and TikTok collaboration will help to facilitate and promote more engagement from healthcare professionals on social media.

Adam Taylor, Professor and Director of the Clinical Anatomy Learning Centre, Lancaster University

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

An inspiring celebration of the rich heritage of embroidery, Stitched: Scotland’s Embroidered Art has opened its doors at Edinburgh’s Dovecot Studios.

Curator Emma Inglis adeptly pulls together a showcase spanning 200 years from 1720-1920, exemplifying the detail, skill and craft in often-overlooked gems gathered from National Trust properties across Scotland.

Located beneath Dovecot’s working tapestry studio, the vividly painted gallery rooms provide a warm backdrop to the motifs, symbolic depictions, complex compositions and extensive colour palettes of an array of embroidered textiles. The collection of 80 exquisite pieces features everything from bed hangings to ornate armchairs, intricate firescreens, tablecloths, cushions and even tea cosies.

Some pieces have been taken out of storage and have undergone meticulous textile restoration specifically for Stitched. Others, normally buried in the vast rooms of lavish Scottish castles and houses, are given the opportunity to shine and share their stories. These works include works from Newhailes House near Musselburgh, Drum Castle in Banchory, House of Dun near Montrose, and Weaver’s Cottage in Kilbarchan.

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The chosen pieces are accompanied by engaging histories, focusing on their practical function as well as how they were made and the women who made them. Singling out these items in an exhibition powerfully re-evaluates what was commonly dismissed as “women’s work”, focusing on the craft and skill involved.

From Scotland’s grandest houses to more humbler homes, the pieces in this exhibition are unified by the desire to create something decorative and civilising. Whether that’s a firescreen embroidered with exotic parrots by Lady Augusta Gordon of the House of Dun, or the golden embroidered leaf motifs stitched into a wool carpet by a Dundonian watchmaker’s wife in the mid-19th century, this is a fascinating opportunity for visitors to witness the craft and invention of the women who created ornate stitched patterns.

There is also a sense that this is just the start of unearthing many of the stories behind the the pieces and the exceptional skills that created them. From wealthy women who could afford the materials and time to master the intricate stitches of contemporary trends, to self-taught embroiderers who came from far more modest backgrounds, there is much to explore and untangle from their stitches.

An exquisite floral bedcover originally embroidered in the 1740s by Lady Anne Gordon of Haddo House in Aberdeenshire, but left unfinished, is a stunning example. Rediscovered in the 1880s by Ishbel, Lady Aberdeen, who was keen to revive embroidery skills, the task was given to a talented local embroiderer, May Sandison.

The daughter of an Aberdeenshire crofter who learned embroidery at her mother’s knee, Sandison later went on to lead the local Methlick School of Needlework. A great supporter of traditional crafts, Lady Aberdeen created the school “for the training and employment of girls in the district who do not desire to go out into the world, but who want to earn some money at or near home”. Sandison’s work to complete the piece followed the traces of the stems and leaves set out by Anne Gordon more than 140 years before.

Such fine, intricate work was not expected from the hands of rural working-class women. A local newspaper noted that the 1894 Home Industries Exhibition was “a really marvellous display when one considers that the women who execute such dainty work are taken from the ranks of the peasantry”.

The Stitched exhibition is an ideal opportunity to engage new audiences and drive interest in the National Trust for Scotland properties from which so many of these beautiful things been borrowed. In the Dovecot’s gallery spaces, these textiles feel almost freshly minted, pulling the visitor into other worlds and histories.

Indian embroidered curtains created in the 1720s borrowed from the House of the Binns in West Lothian reveal the unique plant-based colour from the locality of their making. They present an example of the visual trends of the time and the desire for beautiful, professionally stitched textiles in Scotland.

Examples from Lady Aberdeen’s needlework school include embroidered panels and a stunning gold thread table cover, copied from an Italian original. These sit alongside a pair of fine Chinese silk embroidered hangings purchased for Newhailes House just outside Edinburgh.

Inglis pleasingly connects many of the textiles to their people, whether that is the embroiderer themselves, or those who commissioned, collected, owned and used the items. This gives a strong sense of the context of this craft at various times throughout the last 200 years, reflecting the shifting fashions for stitch styles, technique, colour and materials.

Showcasing these archival embroidered textiles underscores the growing interest and market for embroidered textiles, as well as an increasing visibility in the arts. An appreciation of this slow, meticulous craftwork also highlights how this quiet domestic mode of expression has more recently become a less-quiet vehicle for women’s activism, reigniting excitement around the use of stitch.

Delving into archives is an excellent way to kindle interest in forgotten textures, pattern and colour in textile design. The histories embedded in these archives have the potential to inspire the next generation of timeless, long-lasting materials, prompted by designers’ need to challenge the overconsumption of modern fast fashion and interiors.

In an industry of opaque supply chains, highlighting the stories and people behind these exceptional works echoes the move to shift the current narrative around textiles. Stitched offers a rare opportunity to enjoy embroidered pieces whose stories can be traced back through history, reminding us of the integrity of handmade crafts designed to be cherished – and to last.

Collette Paterson, Programme Director - Textiles, Edinburgh College of Art, University of Edinburgh

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

Once every spring, a few days after the full moon, corals of the great barrier reef release eggs and sperm simultaneously – a phenomenon so spectacular it can be seen from space.

Not only does the Moon’s gravitational attraction interact with the Sun to cause our tides (ebb and flow), its orbit around Earth generates different Moon phases of varying luminosity. Scientists think the Moon’s light at a certain point each spring may provide a cue to corals that the conditions are right to release eggs and sperm.

The Moon’s cycle indirectly affects some animal behaviour during high and low tides, of course, by excluding them from fertile foraging areas such as coastal mudflats. But the sunlight that is reflected off the Moon also has a direct influence on animal behaviour. For example, to those animals that rely on vision for foraging, moonlight is a resource. To others that are at risk of being killed at night, it is a menace.

A recent study found moonlight seems to affect mammals’ behaviour even in one of the darkest places on Earth: the floors of tropical forests.

Footage from camera traps in the undergrowth showed small mammals, such as rodents and armadillos, seemed to avoid predators by being less active on moonlit nights. In response, their hunters, including the ocelot wild cat, also become less active.

So, moonlight in the tropics seemed to create a natural “resting phase” for wildlife. However, a few species that are dependent on vision for foraging and predator avoidance, including the African elephant shrew (Petrodromus tetradactylus), showed increased nocturnal activity in moonlight.

Across the world, here are five animal species that have fascinating behavioural responses to moonlight.

1. Mayflies in Africa

Much like the corals, the mayflies (Povilla adusta) of Lake Victoria in eastern Africa synchronise their mating with the Moon.

These insects emerge in great numbers from their aquatic larval stage (which lasts four to five months) two days after a full moon. As sexually mature adults (the imago stage), this type of mayfly lives for only one to two hours, so they are in a great hurry to display, copulate and lay eggs before they die. Using the Moon’s cycle as a timer helps them ensure that potential mates will be around – then the moonlight also helps them fulfil their urgent tasks.

2. Nightjars

Nightjars are birds that hunt for flying insects at dusk and dawn. My research team monitored European nightjars (Caprimulgus europaeus) in flight (both foraging and migrating) for a year using accelerometers, a type of motion sensor.

During a full moon, nightjars extended their foraging time into the night, probably enabling them to catch more insects in the moonlight.

These birds stayed in the local area during full moons, when they have this increased time to feed. Then, about 12 days into the waning Moon, during spring and autumn migration, nightjars departed on their long flights to and from Europe and southern Africa, as feeding opportunities were disappearing.

The Moon also dictates when nightjars lay their eggs. These birds make sure their eggs hatch under a full moon, so they have the best foraging conditions when their chicks need food the most.

3. Swifts

The black swift (Cypseloides niger) builds its nests on ledges and niches in remote cliff faces in the western US and Canada. Its migration was little known until 2012 when, using tracking devices called light-level geolocators, scientists showed that swifts breeding in the Rocky mountains migrate to the Amazon of western Brazil.

Scientists already knew European swifts (Apus apus) fly continuously for the ten months of the year when they’re not breeding, including their migration between Europe and tropical Africa.

In a 2022 study to test if this applies to black swifts as well, scientists put multi-sensor data loggers on the birds. The black swifts not only remained airborne for their eight months of migration and wintering, they also showed an unexpected behaviour.

During the ten days around each full moon during the non-breeding period, they ascended to high altitudes (3-4,000 metres) after dusk and remained there throughout the night. In contrast, around each new moon, they remained at relatively low altitudes.

The flight acceleration data showed the swifts flew more actively during the brighter times when they were at high altitude, compared with when they were flying in darkness – suggesting they captured more insects (and use more energy) around the time of each full moon.

By a stroke of fortune, a lunar eclipse occurred during the study, on the night of January 20-21 2019, when five black swifts were soaring high in moonlight. As the Moon became eclipsed by the shadow of the Earth, all swifts responded by descending rapidly.

4. Barn owls

Barn owls (Tyto alba) come in two colours – red and white. Their main prey, field voles, detect owls more easily in moonlight and respond by freezing briefly.

A 2019 study found that in moonlight, if it is a red owl, the chance of a field vole escaping is pretty good.

However, if it is a white owl, the vole is blinded by the moonlight reflecting off the owl’s feathers, and freezes for a longer time. White owls are therefore more successful than red owls in catching voles during a full moon, meaning their young run a lower risk of starvation.

5. Dung beetles

The African dung beetle (Scarabaeus zambesianus) collects elephant dung that it forms into balls in which to raise and feed its young. It then rolls these balls away from the dung pile to avoid competition from other beetles. The most efficient way out is along a straight line.

When the Sun and its polarisation pattern (not visible to humans) is unavailable after twilight, dung beetles use the much dimmer polarisation pattern around the Moon to maintain this straight escape line – but this is much more effective under a full moon.

Using polarisation camera lens filters, researchers in a 2003 study of dung beetles were able to shift the direction of the full moon’s polarisation pattern, inducing the beetles to shift their direction.

In contrast, on dark nights around a new Moon, the beetles were unable to maintain straight paths and moved in meandering tracks.

Anders Hedenström, Professor of Theoretical Ecology, Lund University

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

Few plant families are as iconic as the resilient, spiky cactus, thriving in the driest deserts and as well as decorating our offices and homes. Their success in both environments comes down to extreme adaptations for surviving with little water – whether braving the brutal sun or enduring weeks of neglect from busy “plant parents”. But there’s much more to the around 1,850 cacti species than their ruggedness. Here are six surprising facts about this succulent plant family that you may not know.

Many people think of plants as nice-looking greens. Essential for clean air, yes, but simple organisms. A step change in research is shaking up the way scientists think about plants: they are far more complex and more like us than you might imagine. This blossoming field of science is too delightful to do it justice in one or two stories.

This article is part of a series, Plant Curious, exploring scientific studies that challenge the way you view plantlife.

1. Cacti are no loners

Cacti are often depicted as desert loners, but are in fact deeply connected to their ecosystem. Even the formidable Sonoran saguaros that tower 40ft above the desert sand depend on “nurse plants” when young, which shelter seedlings from harsh conditions. When fully grown, cacti also depend on pollinators for reproduction, with different species relying on bees, birds, moths and even bats.

Meanwhile, cacti flowers, fruits and water-filled tissues provide food and hydration to desert animals. Some woodpeckers drill nest holes into cacti stems, then return the next year to live in them. Even in death, cacti serve. Their decaying stems create nutrient-rich shelters for insects and arachnids.

2. They survive in tropics and freezing mountains

With their thick and spiny exteriors, cacti appear in popular culture as the archetypal desert plant – from the backdrops in classic Westerns movies to the harsh landscapes of crime drama Breaking Bad. And certainly, arid and semi-arid environments support the greatest number of cactus species.

But some cacti are found in tropical rainforests, where they don’t tend to grow in soil, but on tree branches in the shaded and humid canopy. Others are found high in the Andes, where temperatures regularly fall below freezing, and sometimes form cushion-like structures. One unique species, the lava cactus (Brachycereus nesioticus), is found only on the Galapagos Islands. This cactus colonises dried lava flows, providing the foundation for an entire ecosystem.

3. The mysterious mistletoe cactus

All but one species of cactus are restricted to the Americas. The exception is the mistletoe cactus, Rhipsalis baccifera, which is found in the African tropics, Madagascar and Sri Lanka, where it grows drooping from other plants.

Scientists don’t know exactly how it got to these distant places. One hypothesis argues that birds transported mistletoe cactus seeds in their guts, but we don’t know which bird could have done this. Fruit-eating birds rarely fly over oceans without defecating along the way. In any case, why have no other cacti made similar crossings?

Another theory suggests the mistletoe cactus dates back to when the Americas and Africa were part of the supercontinent Gondwana. But the timing doesn’t add up, since cacti are thought to have evolved about 100 million years after Gondwana split.

Alternatively, 16th-century sailors might have transported them. But given the tight quarters and need for practical cargo, why would sailors prioritise a cactus? Perhaps simply because it’s beautiful.

4. The unexpected threat of climate change

Cacti emerged over millions of years as arid ecosystems expanded, evolving striking adaptations – including those succulent water-storing tissues and spines – that helped them survive in extreme environments. These traits have made them symbols of resilience and rugged beauty. You might therefore think a hotter, drier Earth would favour cacti, but they are more fragile than it would seem.

Many species are finely tuned to specific conditions. As climates shift, they may struggle to adapt, meaning hundreds of species are threatened in the near future. For instance, the tropical dry forests of the Chaco in Argentina, which host cactus species including Stetsonia coryne and Echinopsis terscheckii, are increasingly vulnerable to wildfires, which are exacerbated by invasive grasses and prolonged droughts.

5. Cacti are supercharged by moderate climes, not deserts

The flip side of extinction is speciation, the formation of new species. Cacti have some of the fastest rates of speciation in plants, though it varies widely within the family. One genus boasts over 100 species, whereas others have only one, such as the tiny Blossfeldia liliputiana in the Andes.

My recent research using machine learning suggested a surprising pattern: the fastest rates of speciation happen in moderate, Goldilocks climates. These places are neither too harsh nor too mild, such as having a moderate daily temperature fluctuation of about 10°C.

This discovery highlights a hidden sensitivity in cacti. Even Arizona’s mighty saguaros have struggled under recent heatwaves. As for the question of why arid and semi-arid places contain a high diversity of cacti, it may be due to their remarkable ability to exploit diverse ecological niches, such as through unique pollinator relationships.

6. Psychedelic cacti shaped ancient and modern cultures

Some cacti produce the powerful psychedelic compound mescaline, which causes vivid hallucinations and altered states of consciousness upon consumption. Andean cultures have consumed the high-elevation San Pedro cactus for mental and physical healing for thousands of years. Researchers even found traces in a mummified child victim (whose head was transformed into a “trophy head”, possibly as a spiritual sacrifice, between 450 and 100BC). Similarly, various Native American cultures have consumed the spineless peyote for millennia, and religious consumption is now protected in law.

More recently, Aldous Huxley’s 1954 book, The Doors of Perception, in which he recalls a mescaline experience, profoundly influenced the counterculture of the 1960s, even providing the name for the band The Doors.

Timothy Leary, the controversial Harvard professor fired for experimenting with psychedelics, read this book and became friendly with Huxley. Leary went on to be described by former US President Richard Nixon as “the most dangerous man in America” for his leading role in the 1960s psychedelic movement.

Today, research suggests mescaline may hold therapeutic promise. A 2021 survey of 452 people found that among those with depression, anxiety, PTSD or drug use disorder, nearly two-thirds reported improvement after taking mescaline, even without taking it for that purpose.

Far from just being desert survivors, cacti are sensitive, interconnected and downright mysterious. With many species under threat from extinction, it is crucial to protect these remarkable plants, preserving their evolutionary legacy.

Jamie Thompson, Lecturer in Evolutionary Biology, University of Reading

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

While ancient Greece is one of the best known cultures of antiquity, there are no surviving historical narratives covering events between 1200 and 760BC. This period has traditionally been viewed as a “dark age” on account of the lack of preserved written sources after much of the Mediterranean suffered a societal and political collapse.

The Greek iron ages occurred within this period. But, because of the lack of documents, till now historians have been working with a timeline, which uses pottery styles from Athens as its basis. Devised in the late 50s and 60s by the historians Nicolas Coldsteam and Vincent Desborough, it has been widely held that the iron ages begun in 1025 and ended in 700BC.

The “Greek renaissance”, from 760BC to 700 BC, emerged in the iron ages’ last period, known as the late geometric. This was a time of rapid economic and demographic growth that saw the adoption of alphabetic writing, the emergence of the Greek city-states, panhellenic sanctuaries and the establishment of Greek colonies abroad.

Such huge strides in 60 years, means that the period is considered extraordinary. However, new research from Assiros and Sindos in northern Greece, as well as Zagora on the Cycladic island of Andros suggests that this timeline of the Greek iron age is wrong. My recent work with the archaeologist Bartłomiej Lis on protogeometric pottery from the site of Eleon supports this view.

Together, our research indicates that the Greek dark ages could have been shorter and the Greek renaissance much longer than previously thought. This shows that Greek society was more resilient to the societal collapse that preceded the iron age than previously believed.

New pottery samples

Our study centres on a vessel discovered in 2013 by a team of archaeologists from the Ephorate of Antiquities of Boeotia and the Canadian Institute of Greece in a shrine dating to the last half of the 12th century BC in the ancient town of Eleon. This vessel, found crushed on the shrine’s floor, features distinct sets of concentric circles pivoting around a central axis (a type of compass-like device) on its surface. A vase like this being discovered in a such an early context is unprecedented in central Greece.

The vessel’s concentric circles are characteristic of the protogeometric style that Coldsteam and Desborough’s believed to have emerged in Athens during the last half of the 11th century BC.

Coldsteam and Desborough established dates for the Greek iron ages through careful documentation of Greek pottery fragments in the Near East (an area covering roughly that of the modern Middle East). These fragments were found at sites which had been destroyed and levelled during historically attested wars.

So, using Near Eastern and Egyptian historical records of these incidents and by identifying the specific styles of the pottery fragments, Coldsteam and Desborough were able to give them specific dates. These were the protogeometric (1025-900BC), early geometric (900-850BC), middle geometric (850-760BC) and late geometric (760-700BC). The last being equivalent to the Greek renaissance.

Our research challenges this timeline and argues instead for an origin of the Protogeometric style during the 12th century BC in northern Greece and so proposes a new start date for the iron ages.

Our argument is supported by petrographic (analysis of thin sections of the pottery under a microscope) and chemical analyses conducted on the vase that show conclusively that it was imported from the lower Axios Valley. This happens to be the region where two other studies found results similarly challenging Coldsteam and Desborough’s chronology of the early iron age between 2000s and 2020s.

As well as bolstering the revised timeline, our research introduces an added layer of complexity into the debate because the vessel from Eleon was found within a layer of Mycenaean pottery dating to the 12th century BC.

In the conventional chronology, Mycenaean-style pottery was produced from the 16th to 11th century BC and was succeeded by the protogeometric style towards the end of the 11th century BC. As Athens was believed to be the centre responsible for creating the protogeometric style, no examples of it should be found in contexts earlier than the late 11th century BC.

The discovery at Eleon suggests that the protogeometric and mycenaean styles co-existed for a 100 years, rather than occurring one after each other. This means that the dark ages of Greece, could be much shorter than previously believed since the late geometric – and so the Greek renaissance, which saw the introduction of the alphabet – would begin over 100 years earlier.

The revised chronology emerging from our study proposes news dates for the iron age periods with most beginning around one hundred years earlier that believed. For instance, the protogeometric would begin around 1,150BC and end around 1,050BC instead of beginning 1025BC and ending 900BC. By moving all the start dates of the earlier periods forward, the late geometric becomes much longer since it would begin around 870BC rather that 760BC.

So, with its new start date of 870BC and its fixed end date of 700BC, the Greek renaissance spanned almost 200 years. It is certainly much less impressive then to consider all the strides of the period happening in two centuries instead of four decades.

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Trevor Van Damme, Assistant Professor in the Archaeology and History of the Ancient Mediterranean, University of Warwick

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

The author John Steinbeck said: “It is a common experience that a problem difficult at night is resolved in the morning after the committee of sleep has worked on it.” Many others have claimed they formulated breakthroughs and innovations in dreams. Recent studies on the science of sleep suggest these claims are supported by modern science.

A 2024 study suggests that sleep can help us make more rational, informed decisions, and not be swayed by a misleading first impression. To show this, researchers at Duke University in the US had participants take part in a garage-sale game. In the experiment, participants rummaged through virtual boxes of unwanted goods. Most items in the box weren’t worth much, but a few special objects were more valuable. After searching through several boxes, participants were asked to pick their favourite box and would earn a cash reward equivalent to the value of the items in the box.

When participants had to decide on a box right away, they tended to judge the boxes not by their entire contents, but rather by the first few items. In other words, these participants were unduly influenced by the first information they encountered and didn’t factor in later information into their decision.

When participants slept and made their decision the next day, they made more rational choices, and the position of the valuable items in the box did not seem to influence their decision.

Problem-solving in the sleeping brain

When we are stuck on a difficult problem, it can feel like we have reached an impasse. A 2019 study found that when they gave the sleeping brain cues, in the form of sounds tied to an unsolved problem, it seemed to help participants to solve that problem the next day.

In this experiment, participants were given a set of puzzles to solve. While solving the puzzle, a unique sound was played in the background. At the end of the testing session, researchers gathered all of the puzzles that participants were unable to solve. While the participants were asleep, the researchers played back sounds associated with some of the unsolved puzzles.

The next morning, the participants came back to the lab and tried to solve the puzzles that they failed to complete the night before. The solving rate was higher for puzzles that were cued during the night, suggesting that the sound cues triggered the sleeping brain into working on a solution for that puzzle.

One of the ways that sleep might help us solve problems is by discovering insights into the relationships between objects and events. A study published in 2023 tested this idea.

The researchers had participants learn associations between four different items (one animal, one location, one object and one food), related to an event the researchers described to them. Some of the associations were obvious pairings, for example, item A was directly paired with item B. Others were only indirectly linked to the rest of the event, for instance, item D was never directly paired with items A or C.

The research team found that after a night’s sleep, participants were better able to uncover the indirect associations (they discovered the subtle link between item A and D), compared to staying awake. This suggests sleep gave the participants insight into the underlying event structure.

Dreaming your way to creativity

Thomas Edison, who helped invent the light bulb, often used daytime naps to help spur his creativity even though he claimed not to sleep more than four hours a night.

When Edison went for his daytime naps, he fell asleep with a ball in his hand.

As he fell asleep, his hand relaxed, and the ball fell to the ground. The noise of the ball hitting the floor startled Edison awake. He, and other famous thinkers including Salvador Dali, claimed that it was that transitional state, the moment between wake and sleep, that fuelled their creativity.

In 2021, French scientists put Edison’s claim to the test. They had participants attempt to solve a maths problem. Unknown to the participants, the problem had a hidden rule that would allow them to solve the problem much faster.

After working on the problem, they had participants fall asleep like Edison did. Each participant held a cup in their hand that they would drop if they fell asleep.

After this delay, participants were re-tested on the maths problem. They found that those participants who drifted off into a light sleep were better able to discover the hidden rule, compared with participants who remained awake, or who entered into deeper stages of sleep while still holding the cup.

During this twilight period between wake and sleep, many of the participants reported hypnagogia, dream-like imagery that is common during sleep onset.

In 2023, a different set of researchers investigated whether the content of hypnagogia was at all related to the three creatives tasks centred on a tree theme that their participants performed right before going to sleep. For example, listing all the creative, alternative uses they could think of for a tree. They found that creative problem-solving was enhanced when the hypnagogic imagery involved trees, suggesting imagery helped them to solve the problem.

So it turns out that Edison was right, sleep onset really is a creative sweet spot, and sleeping on it works.

Dan Denis, Lecturer in Psychology, University of York

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

This weighty book of lush interior shots selected and presented by Steven Brindle is a rare and delightful treat. London: Lost Interiors is an opportunity to glimpse inside the homes of London from a time well before it was common to photograph them – Victorian, Edwardian and early 20th century London. On top of that, about half the homes in it no longer exist, not to mention the fading and remodelling of the insides of those that do.

Popular ideas of what interior design in England was like between 1880 and 1940 come predominantly from period TV shows like Downton Abbey or Jeeves and Wooster. But these do not tell us how houses that were decorated and redecorated at the time genuinely looked.

Brindle’s book shows that historical decor trends are far more complex, more varied, and more particular than we might assume. For a start, the designers, architects and inhabitants were far more international that you would expect.

London: Lost Interiors taps into our growing fascination with other people’s homes, a fascination more recently supercharged by Instagram and other visual social media. The boundary between the public sphere and the private home is changing, since now complete strangers might “know us” through the way we choose and arrange things – our cushions, or recently, even the inside of the fridge.

Brindle makes the point that for those who lived in these homes too, interior style was a statement of identity aimed at their social world, which is smaller than an Instagram audience in many cases but critical to status and position nonetheless. Some of the later images in the book first appeared in the new print publications focused on lifestyle and fashion, like Country Life. Others, perhaps surprisingly, were taken purely for the pleasure of their owners, as a pleasing record of a home in its ideal state.

I like the idea of someone looking at a photograph of a space they actually inhabit. Brindle’s book offers valuable insight into how photography makes people conscious of their appearance and conscious of style. These are not snaps of a life lived. They are studies of the stage set for fashionable society life of lounging and dining.

Take the sitting room of 26 Grosvenor Square, light plays over comfortable chairs angled for conversation and optimal views of the giant palms and frescoes. Polished candle sticks await their cue. No humans present, and no sign of their recent activity. No personal bits and bobs. No mess.

What cannot be overlooked is the lack of “ordinary” lower middle-class and working-class homes in this book. London’s Museum of the Home in Shoreditch, which opened in the 1930s, offers a broader view of changing and varied home styles. But as Brindle points out, few photographs would have been taken of most people’s homes in the period because it was very expensive to do so.

One chapter focuses on “the middle class world”, but acknowledges that only 10% to 15% of Victorian and Edwardian people occupied this strata and they were closer to the landed gentry in economic capital than the middle class of today.

He also notes that these homes were labour intensive: crammed, polished, buffed, orderly and spotless. We may yearn for the grandeur, craftsmanship and commitment to style evident in these pages, but the sheer volume of stuff was only really manageable with staff.

For me, as a scholar of fashionable identities, this book is a seductive yet sobering reminder of how much our aesthetic ideals are shaped by mythologies of the “good life” that depend on having servants.

But something like our fascination with past elites and exotic style is also visible in these photographs from Victorian, Edwardian and early 20th century London. Interior elements demonstrate foreign travel, knowledge of new innovations and quirky, individual or eccentric taste. Politics aside, I wasn’t expecting to see the wealth of niche ideas that pepper these pages once you actually start focusing on individual images.

One “middle-class” home in Belgravia has walls sheathed in black velvet, and, below a dado rail, a spectacular wall-covering of overlapping fans. Another celebrates new lighting technology with a chain of bare electric lightbulbs set below a traditional painterly figurative frieze.

The pared-back minimalism of the 1920s and 1930s is all the more shockingly modern when seen, not in a commercial space or an architect’s house, but in the homes of people previously used to the “womb-like spell” of clutter and burgeoning decoration of the decades before.

Modernism’s break with the past in this book is as alarmingly refreshing as it might have been way back then. Take 5 Connaught Place, designed by Serge Chermayeff in 1937 for the extraordinarily sleek, sparse elegance we might expect of Le Corbusier, set within a Georgian London terrace.

In short, if you are captivated by curated, maximalist clutter, or less-is-more modernism, or indeed any of the distinctive and subtle, idiosyncratic visual languages in between, there is plenty of relevant history here to educate, complicate, delight and inspire. Brindle offers an intelligent and detailed text that brings the kaleidoscopic of pictures to life, invoking compelling stories of class and modern life along the way.

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Vanessa Brown, Senior Lecturer Visual and Material Culture, Nottingham Trent University

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

Today, we know of more than 5,000 exoplanets: planets outside our solar system that orbit other stars. While the effort to discover new worlds goes on, we’re steadily learning more about the exoplanets we’ve already detected: their sizes, what they’re made of and whether they have atmospheres.

Our team has now provided tentative evidence for a sulphur-rich atmosphere on a world that’s 1.5 times the size of Earth and located 35 light years away. If confirmed, it would be the smallest known exoplanet with an atmosphere. The potential presence of the gases sulphur dioxide (SO₂) and hydrogen sulphide (H₂S) in this atmosphere hint at a molten or volcanic surface.

In our solar system, we have two distinct categories of planets – the small rocky ones, including Earth and Mars, and the gas giants such as Jupiter and Saturn. However, exoplanets span a great spectrum of sizes. Our solar system lacks a planet whose size falls into the range between Earth and Neptune, but it turns out that’s the most common type of planet we have seen around other stars in our galaxy.

The ones closer to Neptune’s size are called sub-Neptunes and the ones closer to Earth’s size are called super-Earths. L 98-59 d is a super-Earth, slightly bigger and heavier than the Earth. The composition of the atmospheres of these planets is still an open question, one that we are only starting to explore with the James Webb Space Telescope (JWST), launched in 2021.

L 98-59 d was discovered in 2019 with Nasa’s Tess space telescope. Most exoplanets, including L 98-59 d, have been detected using the “transit method”. This measures the tiny dips in starlight when the planet passes in front of the star. This dip is more pronounced for larger planets and enables us to figure out the size of a planet.

Even JWST can’t separate these tiny planets from their host stars – as they orbit their stars too closely. But there is a way to “see” the planet’s atmosphere from this entangled light. When a planet passes in front of its star, some of the starlight filters through a planet’s atmosphere, hitting the gas molecules or atoms present there, on its way to us on Earth.

Every gas modifies the light in its own signature manner. From the light we receive from that star system, we can infer what the composition of that atmosphere might be. This is called transmission spectroscopy, a proven technique that has previously been used to confirm the presence of CO₂ in an exoplanet’s atmosphere.

I am part of an international team of scientists who used JWST to observe one transit of L 98-59 d across the disc of its host star. We then obtained the transmission spectrum of the atmosphere of the exoplanet from these observations. This spectrum hinted at the possible presence of an atmosphere filled with sulphur dioxide and hydrogen sulphide.

This discovery was surprising, as it stands out in stark contrast to the atmospheres of rocky planets in our own solar system, where water vapour and carbon dioxide are much more prevalent. Earth’s atmosphere, for example, is rich in nitrogen and oxygen, with trace amounts of water vapour. Meanwhile, Venus has a thick atmosphere dominated by carbon dioxide. Even Mars has a thin atmosphere dominated by carbon dioxide.

We then used computer models that incorporate our understanding of planetary atmospheres and the light coming from L 98-59 d to come up with a potential picture of the composition of this planet’s atmosphere. The absence of common gases such as carbon dioxide and the presence of SO₂ and H₂S suggests an atmosphere shaped by entirely different processes to those we’re familiar with in our solar system. This hints at unique and extreme conditions on L 98-59 d, such as a molten or volcanic surface.

Additional observations will be necessary to confirm the presence of these gases. JWST observations had previously spotted signs of SO₂ on an exoplanet, but this was a gas giant, not a potentially rocky world such as L 98-59 d.

Exo-volcanoes?

The potential presence of SO₂ and H₂S raises questions about their origin. One explosive possibility is volcanism driven by tidal heating, much like what is observed on Jupiter’s moon Io. The gravitational pull of the host star on this planet stretches and squeezes it as it goes along its orbit. This motion can heat up the centre of the planet, melting its interiors and producing extreme volcanic eruptions and possibly even oceans of magma.

Combined with its close proximity to the star (one year on this planet is seven and half Earth days), truly hellish temperatures can be reached on the surface. If future observations support the presence of such an atmosphere, not only would it be the smallest exoplanet to have a detected atmosphere, but also a crucial step towards understanding the nature of such planets.

Detecting atmospheres on small, rocky planets is exceptionally difficult, as the planets are very small compared to the host stars, and also as intense radiation from their host stars often strips the atmospheres away. These observations, while tantalising, are only from a single transit. That means instrumental noise and other factors prevent us from making statistically strong claims. Future JWST observations will be key in confirming or refuting our analysis.

L 98-59 d may not be a candidate for life as we know it, but studying its sulphurous atmosphere and potential volcanism provides valuable insight into worlds around other stars. Extreme worlds like these help us understand the diversity of planetary evolution across the galaxy.

Agnibha Banerjee, PhD Student, The Open University

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

Does your superannuation fund also provide you with insurance? Many of us are automatically enrolled without even realising. Now, the way super funds handle such claims has been thrust into the spotlight.

Australia’s corporate watchdog – the Australian Securities and Investments Commission (ASIC) – has put our $3.9 trillion superannuation sector on notice, launching legal action against one of the country’s largest industry super funds.

On Tuesday, ASIC alleged that Cbus – which manages more than $85 billion on behalf of more than 900,000 Australians – was too slow to process millions of dollars in death and disability payouts, leaving many families in prolonged financial uncertainty.

ASIC Deputy Chair Sarah Court said in a statement:

We allege Cbus failed its members and claimants at their most vulnerable time, and we are taking this case to protect all those vulnerable Australians trying to access the financial support to which they are entitled.

In response, Cbus apologised for the delays and announced a new compensation program for affected members.

But at a press conference on Wednesday, Court said the way claims are handled remains a “broader issue” in the superannuation industry. She indicated the regulator may take further actions against other funds early next year.

If true, this raises some urgent questions. Are Australia’s big super funds doing enough to protect and look after their members at the times it matters most? And what are your rights?

The case against Cbus

ASIC’s allegations centre on Cbus’s handling of a number of death benefits and total and permanent disability (TPD) insurance claims.

The regulator alleges that since September 2022, more than 10,000 members were impacted by significant delays in processing and payment of claims – 6,000 of whom by more than a year.

This allegedly resulted in a financial loss to members of about $20 million.

ASIC also alleges that the trustee for Cbus – United Super – failed to report the situation to ASIC within the 30-day timeframe required by law, and didn’t “take all reasonable steps” to ensure its reports were not materially misleading.

The case comes at a bad time for Cbus. The superannuation giant’s high senior staff turnover, links to embattled union CFMEU, and other governance concerns have led some analysts, such as those at Morningstar, to raise questions about whether Cbus is equipped to manage the complex needs of its members effectively.

A safety net at risk

Many Australians are automatically enrolled in life and disability insurance through their superannuation. This is designed to offer a financial safety net for members and their families in times of hardship.

These benefits can provide crucial support if a member dies, faces terminal illness, or becomes unable to work due to disability. For those counting on this support, delayed claims can cause immense financial and emotional distress, particularly during already vulnerable times.

ASIC’s scrutiny of Cbus signals a deeper problem – the risk that some funds are prioritising administrative convenience and cost savings over timely management of claims.

A wake-up call for the industry

ASIC’s lawsuit against Cbus underscores a critical point: that super funds must act in the best interests of their members at every stage, from managing contributions to paying out insurance claims.

Super policy reform discussions often centre on encouraging members themselves to save more for retirement. That approach is too one-sided.

If a broader regulatory crackdown goes ahead, it could become a turning point. Funds will be prompted to re-evaluate their governance practices, reinforce their claims management procedures, and make sure they operate with more transparency and accountability.

For superannuation members, it serves as a reminder to stay informed and engaged with their super funds, understanding their rights and expectations.

What should I know about my rights?

If you have insurance through your super, understanding your entitlements and the claims process is crucial.

Here are some key steps to ensure a smoother claims experience:

1. Review your coverage: Super funds usually offer life, total and permanent disability (TPD), and income protection insurance. Check your super statement or fund portal to confirm your coverage details. If unclear, contact your fund for a breakdown of benefits.

2. Understand the claims process: Each fund has its own procedures for handling claims, often involving medical assessments, proof of death, or evidence of disability. Knowing what documentation is required in advance can help prevent delays.

3. Ask for clear timelines: Request an estimated timeline when you submit a claim. Although funds must process claims within a reasonable time, delays can happen. A responsive fund should provide updates on your claim’s progress.

4. Escalate delays if necessary: If your claim is taking longer than expected, contact your fund’s claims team. If their response is unsatisfactory, consider filing a formal complaint. For unresolved issues, you can escalate to the Australian Financial Complaints Authority (AFCA), which assists in mediating disputes.

5. Hold your fund accountable: As a super member, you have the right to prompt and fair treatment. ASIC’s action against Cbus highlights the importance of regulatory oversight, but members also play a role in holding their funds accountable. Don’t hesitate to advocate for your rights if you feel your claim is mishandled.

Natalie Peng, Lecturer in Accounting, The University of Queensland

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

Some 2.3 million of U.S. adults over 65 – more than 4% – have a diagnosis of dementia. But even without a diagnosis, a certain amount of cognitive decline is normal as age sets in.

And whether it’s due to fear of cognitive decline or noticing lapses in cognition when we are stressed, many of us have had moments when we thought we could use an extra cognitive boost.

The good news is research has shown that people can make changes throughout adulthood that can help prevent or delay cognitive decline and even reduce their risk of dementia. These include quitting smoking and properly managing blood pressure.

In addition to these lifestyle changes, many people are turning to brain-training games, which claim to optimize your brain’s efficiency and capacity at any age. The makers of brain-training apps and games claim their products can do everything from staving off cognitive decline to improving your IQ.

But so far these claims have been met with mixed evidence.

We are cognitive neuroscientists who focus on brain health across the adult lifespan. We study how the brain informs cognition and the ways we can use brain imaging to understand cognitive and brain-training interventions. We aim to understand how our brains change naturally over time as well as what we can do about it.

Ongoing research shows what actually happens to the brain when it is engaged in new learning, offering a window into how people can sustain their brain health and how brain-training games can play a role. We believe these studies offer some strategies to train your brain the right way.

Brain training fact vs. fiction

Brain training is a set of tasks, often computerized, based on well-known tests to measure a type of cognition, but in a gamified manner.

Most brain-training games were designed to help participants master one or more specific skills. One example is a game that shows you a letter and number combination, where sometimes you must quickly identify whether the letter is even or odd, while other times you must switch to deciding whether the letter is a consonant or vowel. The game may increase in difficulty by requiring you to accomplish the task within a set time limit.

Such games are designed to require a high level of attention, fast processing speed and a flexible mind to alternate between the rules, known as executive functioning.

But it turns out that the specific skills learned in these games often do not translate to more general, real-world applications. Whether brain games meet their end goal of lasting cognitive improvement across a number of areas is still highly debated among psychologists. To make such claims requires rigorous evidence that playing a specific game improves cognitive or brain performance.

In 2016, in fact, the Federal Trade Commission issued a US$50 million penalty to one of the most popular brain-training games at the time, Lumosity, for misleading consumers into thinking that they could achieve higher levels of mental performance at work or at school and prevent or delay cognitive decline by using its product.

If improving on a brain game helps the player get better only at that or highly similar games, maybe game developers need a different approach.

Put some challenge into it

In a study dubbed the Synapse Project, in which one of us, Ian McDonough, helped assess the final outcomes, one group of participants were tasked with engaging in a new activity with which they had little experience. They were assigned to either digital photography or quilting. Though these activities were not games, they were meant to be engaging, challenging and done in a social environment.

Another group was assigned activities that involved little active learning, such as engaging in themed activities related to travel or cooking, or more solitary activities such as solving crossword puzzles, listening to music or watching classic movies. These groups met for 15 hours a week over 14 weeks. All participants were tested at the beginning and end of the study on various cognitive abilities.

Those assigned to the new, challenging activities showed significant gains in their memory, processing speed and reasoning abilities relative to those assigned to the less challenging activities. None of the participants were directly trained on these cognitive tests, which means that the challenging activities enhanced skills that transferred to new situations, such as remembering a list of words or solving abstract problems.

Brain scans of participants showed that over the course of the study, those engaged in the more challenging activities increased their neural efficiency. In other words, their brains didn’t have to work as hard to solve problems or recall information.

The study also showed that the more time participants spent on their projects, the bigger their brain gains and the better their memory was at the end of the 14 weeks.

One difference between the types of activities engaged in the Synapse Project and traditional brain training is whether activities are done in a group or alone. Although other studies have found a benefit to social interaction, the Synapse Project found no difference between the social and solitary activities in the low-challenge group. So, challenge rather than the social components seems to be the driver of maintaining cognitive and brain health.

What you can do to maintain a healthy brain

You might be thinking it’s time to take up digital photography or quilting. But in the end, it’s not about those specific tasks. What matters most is that you challenge yourself, which often comes naturally when doing something new.

The new learning that often is accompanied by a sense of effort – and sometimes frustration – requires accessing the resources in the frontal lobe, which manages thinking and judgment, and the parietal lobe, which processes attention and combines different sensory inputs. These regions constantly talk to each other to keep the mind adaptable in all kinds of situations and prevent the brain from going into “habit mode.”

Where does this leave us? Well, on the one hand, games touted as “training your brain” may not be the best solution compared with other routes to improving cognition.

Ironically, you might already be training your brain by playing effortful games that are not marketed as “brain training.” For example, games such as Tetris or real-time strategy games such as Rise of Nations have shown improvements in players’ cognition. Research has even shown that playing Super Mario 64 can result in increases in brain volume in regions such as the hippocampus, the memory center of the brain.

While little evidence suggests that any brain-training game or program globally improves cognition, some may improve specific aspects of it. As with other activities, challenge is key.

If you’re a word person, try a numbers-based game. If you love math, consider a word game or puzzle. Choosing a task that makes you feel uncomfortable gives you the best shot at maintaining and even improving your cognition. Once you start feeling a sense of ease and familiarity, that’s a sign that it’s time to switch tasks, change the game or at least add some challenge by advancing to a new level of difficulty that feels just beyond your reach.

Ian McDonough, Associate Professor of Psychology, Binghamton University, State University of New York and Michael Dulas, Assistant Professor of Psychology, Binghamton University, State University of New York

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

The federal government has quietly shelved plans to introduce local requirements for Australian screen content on streaming platforms like Netflix and Disney+.

In October, Federal Arts Minister Tony Burke flagged quotas were being delayed until after the United States election, amid concerns new rules might be seen as a violation of Australia’s 2004 free trade agreement.

This is something the government should have foreseen and addressed. The Australian screen industry petitioned the government back in 2017 to commit to a “cultural carve out” when negotiating free trade agreements to support the maintenance of a unique Australian culture.

Last week, Burke confirmed these local content requirements have been postponed indefinitely.

A decade of can-kicking

In Australia, commercial broadcasters and pay-TV platforms have been required to meet local content quotas as part of their licensing arrangements for decades.

Broadcasters have to show at least 55% Australian content between 6am and midnight on their primary channel, and have to meet certain genre quotas. Foxtel’s drama channels must spend at least 10% of their program expenditure on Australian drama programs.

Streaming platforms have never faced the same obligations.

Following a determination made by then-Communications Minister Richard Alston in 2000, streaming services continue to be defined by government as “online services”.

As such, they operate outside of official broadcast regulation. They have no formal obligation to invest in Australian content production.

The production and broadcast sectors have long expressed concerns about the low amounts of local content on streaming services and their lack of commissioning requirements.

Policymakers have held eight official inquiries into the best approach for regulation in Australia since 2017.

These have consistently recommended subscription video on demand companies invest part of their revenue earned in Australia in new Australian content.

In 2022, the Morrison government proposed a two-tier system where large streamers would report annually about their spending on and provision of Australian content. If they were investing less than 5% of their revenue, a formal investment requirement would be triggered.

Screen Producers Australia dubbed this scheme “weak” and has since lobbied streamers be required to spend a minimum of 20% of their local revenues on Australian content.

With the matter still undecided, in the final week of their election campaign the Labor government made a pledge to develop an arts agenda that would, among other promises, promote Australian creators on streaming platforms.

In January 2023, the government’s new National Cultural Policy included a formal commitment to ensuring continued access to local stories and content by introducing requirements for Australian screen content on streaming platforms.

This was to commence no later than July 1 2024. This is the plan which has now been shelved.

Supporting the local sector

At the same time as past governments ran multiple redundant inquiries into how to regulate streaming services, they have also scaled down licence fees and local content obligations for commercial broadcasters since 2016.

This has had devastating results for the production of Australian drama and kids TV. Locally-made Australian children’s television content decreased by more than 84% between 2019 and 2022.

Subscription video-on-demand services have maintained they don’t need to be regulated because they are committed to producing content in Australia.

The Australian operator Stan has steadily built a suite of original productions since it launched in 2015, but it took US-based services like Netflix and Prime Video more than two years from launch to start commissioning new content.

Their commitment to the local sector has largely manifested in off-shore productions set in the US, like Netflix’s Clickbait; adaptations of books and TV classics, like Prime’s Lost Flowers of Alice Hart and Netflix’s Heartbreak High; and distributing existing Australian content to international subscribers.

More recently we have seen big-budget original concepts set in Australia, like Territory from Netflix and Last Days of the Space Age from Disney+.

These offerings have tended to be flashy, sporadic, and last only one season.

What does this mean for Australian producers and audiences?

With the introduction of local content requirements still up in the air, independent producers remain in a precarious and unsustainable position.

Australian audiences also have no guarantee the streaming services they pay to subscribe to will spend some of that money commissioning and distributing locally made content.

The government could be coming up with other solutions like better resourcing the public service broadcasters, embedding cultural specificity requirements into funding models, and addressing the very worrying impact of flexible content quotas for broadcasters.

But, after a decade of debate, an informed election promise was made. Locking down some kind of local content requirement for streaming services is within arm’s reach and long overdue.

Alexa Scarlata, Research Fellow, Media & Communication, RMIT University

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

The Australian government has announced a plan to ban children under the age of 16 from social media. With bipartisan support, it’s likely to be passed by the end of the year.

While some experts and school principals support the ban, the move has also been widely challenged by social media experts and children’s mental health groups.

In a press conference on Friday, Communications Minister Michelle Rowland suggested the ban would include platforms such as TikTok, X (formerly Twitter), Instagram, Facebook and YouTube. An exemption would be considered for some services, such as YouTube Kids.

Some media reports raised concerns about online games like Minecraft, Fortnite and Roblox falling under the ban, because people can communicate with others on these platforms. Platforms like Xbox Live or the PlayStation Network would potentially be in scope, too.

A government spokesperson told Australian Community Media that a new, robust definition of “social media” would be forthcoming in the legislation. Games and messaging platforms are likely to be exempt, but we don’t know for sure at this stage.

As experts in children’s online play, we argue it would be a mistake to ban children from social games. Games are crucial to children’s social lives and learning, and for their personal growth and identity development.

What do young people gain from games?

Games are widely popular, and 93% of Australian children aged 5–14 play videogames regularly. Two-thirds of children in Australia aged 9–12 play Minecraft at least once a month. Children and young people feel overwhelmingly positive about their online gameplay.

In a recent study by the eSafety Commissioner, over three-quarters of young gamers indicated that “gaming had helped them with skill development, such as learning something new, using digital technologies, solving problems and thinking faster”.

Minecraft has received particular attention for fostering creativity, collaboration and socially connecting young people.

In 2021, the Minecraft: Education Edition was being used in schools in 115 countries, including Australia. This version of the game contains free lessons on various subjects. In a study across six schools in Queensland, researchers found children who learned with Minecraft: Education Edition “overwhelmingly identified themselves as better mathematics students”.

Games offer rich spaces for play, which is critical for children’s identity formation, social lives and imagination. For instance, playing as a different character in an online game is an important form of playful identity exploration for children. (It’s valuable for adults, too.)

Two decades of research have also shown us that children derive enormous social benefits from playing digital games with other people. In a 2015 report by the Pew Research Center, 78% of teenagers said online games help them feel more connected to their friends.

A UNICEF review of research literature from earlier this year concluded that videogames can boost children’s wellbeing by making them feel competent, empowered and socially connected to others.

This is particularly important for vulnerable children. For instance, Autcraft, a parent-created Minecraft server for neurodivergent children, has been enormously successful in providing children with a comfortable and safe digital space to socially connect with their peers.

What about the risks?

However, games are not always safe spaces for young people.

Gaming culture is pervasively misogynistic, and games have played a role in mainstreaming far-right ideology by promoting meritocratic, racist and discriminatory ideologies.

Gaming platforms like Roblox – where over half of players are under the age of 13 – have also come under fire for not doing enough to protect their users from online grooming and child abuse material.

Increasingly, we’re also seeing the gamblification of games. In recent years, predatory monetisation models such as gambling-like lootboxes have become normalised.

In Australia, the Classification Board recently banned “in-game purchases with an element of chance” for children under 15. According to the definition, these are “mystery items players can use real money to buy, without knowing what item they will get”.

Incidentally, this decision demonstrates the ineffectiveness of blanket ban approaches. According to our yet-to-be-published research, numerous games with paid chance-based features such as lootboxes remain available on storefronts like Apple’s App Store, despite not complying with the new regulations.

A ban can’t make children’s online lives better

Just as all internet use isn’t bad, all games aren’t bad either. Parents may feel overwhelmed and under-informed about the videogames their children play, but bans can be easily circumvented. Australia’s eSafety Commissioner has expressed concerns that “some young people will access social media in secrecy”.

The risk is that a ban will take away the onus on these platforms to make them safer for children. Why design for users who aren’t legally allowed to be on the platform?

The government should be working in partnership with social media and online gaming platforms to ensure they are designed in children’s best interests, while allowing children the freedom to play and to access safer and richer digital lives.

Marcus Carter, Professor in Human-Computer Interaction, ARC Future Fellow, University of Sydney and Taylor Hardwick, Postdoctoral Research Fellow in the School of Architecture, Design and Planning, University of Sydney

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

If you experience trauma during childhood, there’s a greater chance you’ll use substances such as alcohol, tobacco and other drugs later. But what does the evidence say about vapes?

Our new study is the first to investigate the links between childhood trauma and vaping habits in Australian teens. Those who’d had traumatic experiences before the age of 12 were more likely to have tried vaping, vape regularly or intend to in the future.

Despite bans on importing and selling vapes containing nicotine, labelling loopholes have meant they’ve continued to be readily available. A study of 423 vapes confiscated from New South Wales retailers in 2022 found 98.8% contained nicotine.

While quitting nicotine is challenging for most people, our research suggests young people with histories of trauma may face extra challenges – and require tailored support.

Trauma and substance use

For people who experience trauma in early life, the consequences can extend far beyond the event itself. Trauma is a form of psychological harm caused by experiences that pose a significant threat to your life or to others’ lives. These may include emotional, physical and sexual abuse, or exposure to natural disasters and serious accidents.

Research links childhood trauma to negative physical and mental health outcomes. This includes higher rates of substance use and addiction.

The reasons for this are complex and may involve a range of factors, including social and environmental influences. For example, young people who have experienced trauma are more likely to have been exposed to substance use by people around them.

But trauma also affects the brain’s development and this may influence whether we are more likely to use substances.

Traumatic experiences can lead to greater impulsivity and risk-taking behaviour. Trauma can also disrupt how we deal with stress, heightening our response to future stressors.

Self-medication is risky for a developing brain

People who have experienced childhood trauma are more likely to have difficulty identifying, understanding and expressing emotions (known as alexithymia). This is why we often talk about substance use as self-medication – a way to cope with emotional pain and stress.

But self-medicating is particularly problematic for young people. The adolescent brain is still developing, so it is more susceptible to the harmful effects of nicotine, alcohol and other drugs.

Young people become addicted to nicotine faster than adults – and stronger cravings may make it harder for them to quit.

We found a link between early trauma and teen vaping

A handful of studies have found consistent links between childhood trauma and vaping. But research has focused mostly on adults, rather than asking teenagers about vape use. There was only one study about trauma and vaping in Australia and it looked at adult women.

But we know young people in Australia are being exposed to vapes early – and that the number of teens who vape is rising.

Our new study examined self-report surveys from 2,234 Year 7 and 8 students from 33 schools across New South Wales, Queensland and Western Australia, collected as part of the Health4Life study. The surveys assessed trauma history at age 12 and vape use three years later.

We found those who’ve had a traumatic experience by age 12 are more likely, at age 15, to say they’ve tried vaping (64%), vape regularly (63%) or intend to vape in the future (44%).

Challenges for quitting

Our new findings highlight an even younger group of Australians at-risk for vaping and becoming addicted to nicotine. Many may already be addicted.

Nicotine is highly addictive and quitting can often take multiple attempts due to difficult withdrawal symptoms. People often require a combination of behavioural support – such as counselling – and pharmacological supports, which might include nicotine replacement therapy or therapeutic vapes.

Current guidelines for GPs highlight a lack of research about how to support adolescents to quit. Available evidence is based on research with adults or is focused on tobacco smoking.

New federal laws have made therapeutic vapes – those used to manage nicotine dependence – available with a prescription to those under 18. However, this is subject to state and territory laws.

Other challenges

Having a history of trauma can also compound the challenges of quitting.

We know family and social support are strong protective factors for young people – for example in seeking help to quit smoking.

But this support is less likely to be available to children who’ve experienced violence and abuse, given the most likely perpetrators are their own family.

Childhood trauma can also lead to distrust of health-care professionals.

Beyond GPs and counsellors, young people exposed to early trauma will likely need specialised psychological support to develop healthier coping strategies.

What young people need

We need a mix of universal and targeted prevention strategies.

In 2022-23 we developed a universal, school-based prevention program, known as the OurFutures Vaping Program. It is currently being evaluated among more than 5,000 students in New South Wales, Western Australia and Queensland, and refined in response to student and teacher feedback.

We also need strategies that recognise childhood trauma as a risk factor for vaping, and focus on harm reduction. We need to do more to reduce rates of childhood trauma too, using evidence-based methods to disrupt cycles of abuse.

Consistent and culturally safe methods can help identify young people with trauma histories early and ensure they have access to comprehensive support and trauma-informed care.

Not all young people who are exposed to trauma will experience negative outcomes, but many will – and Australia needs to be better equipped to respond.

Amy-Leigh Rowe, Postdoctoral Researcher in Mental Health and Substance Abuse, University of Sydney; Lauren Gardner, Senior Research Fellow & Program Lead of School-Based Health Interventions, University of Sydney, and Siobhan O'Dean, Postdoctoral Research Associate, The Matilda Centre for Research in Mental Health and Substance Use, University of Sydney

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

Myopia in children is on the rise. The condition – also known as shortsightedness – already affects up to 35% of children across the world, according to a recent review of global data. The researchers predict this number will increase to 40%, exceeding 740 million children living with myopia by 2050.

So why does this matter? Many people may be unaware that treating myopia (through interventions such as glasses) is about more than just comfort or blurry vision. If left unchecked, myopia can rapidly progress, increasing the risk of serious and irreversible eye conditions. Diagnosing and treating myopia is therefore crucial for your child’s lifetime eye health.

Here is how myopia develops, the role screen time plays – and what you can do if think your child might be shortsighted.

What is myopia?

Myopia is commonly known as nearsightedness or shortsightedness. It is a type of refractive error, meaning a vision problem that stops you seeing clearly – in this case, seeing objects that are far away.

A person usually has myopia because their eyeball is longer than average. This can happen if eyes grow too quickly or longer than normal.

A longer eyeball means when light enters the eye, it’s not focused properly on the retina (the light-sensing tissue lining the back of the eye). As a result, the image they see is blurry. Controlling eye growth is the most important factor for achieving normal vision.

Myopia is on the rise in children

The study published earlier this year looked at how the rate of myopia has changed over the last 30 years. It reviewed 276 studies, which included 5.4 million people between the ages of 5–19 years, from 50 countries, across six continents.

Based on this data, the researchers concluded up to one in three children are already living with shortsightedness – and this will only increase. They predict a particular rise for adolescents: myopia is expected to affect more than 50% of those aged 13-19 by 2050.

Their results are similar to a previous Australian study from 2015. It predicted 36% of children in Australia and New Zealand would have myopia by 2020, and more than half by 2050.

The new review is the most comprehensive of its kind, giving us the closest look at how childhood myopia is progressing across the globe. It suggests rates of myopia are increasing worldwide – and this includes “high myopia”, or severe shortsightedness.

What causes myopia?

Myopia develops partly due to genetics. Parents who have myopia – and especially high myopia – are more likely to have kids who develop myopia as well.

But environmental factors can also play a role.

One culprit is the amount of time we spend looking at screens. As screens have shrunk, we tend to hold them closer. This kind of prolonged focusing at short range has long been associated with developing myopia.

Reducing screen time may help reduce eye strain and slow myopia’s development. However for many of us – including children – this can be difficult, given how deeply screens are embedded in our day-to-day lives.

Green time over screen time

Higher rates of myopia may also be linked to kids spending less time outside, rather than screens themselves. Studies have shown boosting time outdoors by one to two hours per day may reduce the onset of myopia over a two to three year period.

We are still unsure how this works. It may be that the greater intensity of sunlight – compared to indoor light – promotes the release of dopamine. This crucial molecule can slow eye growth and help prevent myopia developing.

However current research suggests once you have myopia, time outdoors may only have a small effect on how it worsens.

What can we do about it?

Research is rapidly developing in myopia control. In addition to glasses, optometrists have a range of tools to slow eye growth and with it, the progression of myopia. The most effective methods are:

• orthokeratology (“ortho-K”) uses hard contact lenses temporarily reshape the eye to improve vision. They are convenient as they are only worn while sleeping. However parents need to make sure lenses are cleaned and stored properly to reduce the chance of eye infections

• atropine eyedrops have been shown to successfully slow myopia progression. Eyedrops can be simple to administer, have minimal side effects and don’t carry the risk of infection associated with contact lenses.

What are the risks with myopia?

Myopia is easily corrected by wearing glasses or contact lenses. But if you have “high myopia” (meaning you are severely shortsighted) you have a higher risk of developing other eye conditions across your lifetime, and these could permanently damage your vision.

These conditions include:

• retinal detachment, where the retina tears and peels away from the back of the eye

• glaucoma, where nerve cells in the retina and optic nerve are progressively damaged and lost

• myopic maculopathy, where the longer eyeball means the macula (part of the retina) is stretched and thinned, and can lead to tissue degeneration, breaks and bleeds.

What can parents do?

It’s important to diagnose and treat myopia early – especially high myopia – to stop it progressing and lower the risk of permanent damage.

Uncorrected myopia can also affect a child’s ability to learn, simply because they can’t see clearly. Signs your child might need to be tested can include squinting to see into the distance, or moving things closer such as a screen or book to see.

Regular eye tests with the optometrist are the best way to understand your child’s eye health and eyesight. Each child is different – an optometrist can help you work out tailored methods to track and manage myopia, if it is diagnosed.

Flora Hui, Honorary Fellow, Department of Optometry and Vision Sciences, Melbourne School of Health Sciences, The University of Melbourne

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