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I’ve been playing a 1963 Maton FyrByrd guitar since I was 14 years old. It’s Australian designed and made with the unique sharkbite body, and pickups named cool, midway and hi-fi.

With only 1,160 of this model produced between 1962 and 1965, it’s a rarity. But so too is its provenance. In lieu of jewellery, cabinet crystal or other family heirlooms, I inherited my mother’s electric guitar.

The electric guitar is synonymous with rock'n'roll genres emerging from the 1950s. It’s also become one of the most potent icons of masculine heroism in popular music culture. Stereotypical imagery circulates around riffs, shredding and posturing.

The wailing guitar solo has become a signature feature of virtuosity, a spotlight of grandeur setting the male guitarist apart from the band with a distinctive textural line.

These characteristics mean the electric guitar takes up space – something traditionally associated with masculine performance.

But the paradox about the gendering of “the axe” is that a leading, stylistic founder was a woman – and many follow in her footsteps today.

Sister Rosetta Tharpe

The guitar has been an important instrument of music making for centuries, but the 1930s marked the invention of the electric guitar.

Amplifying the guitar produced its distinctive feature: the capacity for sustain. This enabled sounds to siren out, dive and waver – often at high volume.

Sister Rosetta Tharpe emerged alongside the electrification of the guitar.

Her style developed over four decades from the 1930s to 1960s with fluid fretboard prowess and a percussive right hand, leaning into the hover of distortion. Tharpe influenced big names of contemporary music such as Chuck Berry, Eric Clapton and Keith Richards.

Audiences loved her.

However, a woman (also queer, and a person of colour) “owning” the electric guitar challenged the patriarchal music industry who tended to frame her as a singer, rather than a prolific instrumentalist.

DIY learning systems

While stereotypes such as “masculine” taking up space might help to explain a lack of women and gender diverse electric guitarists (and indeed other instrumentalists in rock tropes), their absence also stems from the way that skills are developed and subsequently valued.

In rock and punk music, learning to play often comes via friendship groups where knowledge is passed around and learnt using do-it-yourself (DIY) methods.

These processes are often associated with rites of passage into adulthood.

But these social networks are also gendered. Women and gender diverse people are often excluded from informal channels that create opportunities, or relegated to support roles, a reflection of mainstream ideas that set “women’s roles” to passive. This starts from a young age.

My research (to be published) shows that, for those who do pick up a guitar, DIY (and punk sentiment) is an effective tool to circumvent social barriers to skill acquisition.

Yet women and gender diverse guitarists are constantly compared to a male cannon of music history, scrutinised as an exception, but rarely exceptional.

Gendered divisions of labour that see women carry a greater weight of unpaid labour further impact the time available to hone a craft. These are the double gates of sexism and ageism that make becoming a music legend a masculine, middle aged, luxury.

Despite this, a treasure trove of musical elders have distorted the way that guitar playing is historically and sentimentally wedded to masculine expertise.

The axe in different hands

When Joan Jett burst onto the punk scene in the 1970s with her low-slung electric guitar, she had the look and attitude of her male counterparts. But she carved a style centred on solid, rhythmic blocks, saturating accents with power chords in lieu of complex, single note techniques.

Later, Kurt Cobain adopted a similar technique, perhaps explaining Jett’s appearance in Nirvana’s recent 30th album anniversary special.

In subcultural spaces, artists like Ronnie Yoshiko Fujiyama from Japanese cult band the 5, 6, 7, 8s, now in her mid 70s, shape-shifts her way through a range of genre bending musical statements that challenge stereotypical guitar playing with signature guitar pedals, and joyous virtuosity.

On her recent album tour, Kim Gordon, one of the most recognisable women in punk, now also in her 70s, ditched her bass for the electric guitar.

She ended her shows standing on her amp holding her guitar overhead. She’s doing what she’s always done: querying the boundaries of culture tropes, cementing her iconic status.

These artists and countless others challenge expectations of gender via the symbolism projected through the electric guitar.

And they go a step further in rejecting pressures for older women to be sidelined.

The Australian soundscape

Australian music culture has a rich and diverse heritage. However, the same touchstones tend to be used to produce a particular narrative about musical connoisseurship that enables (mostly) men to be elevated through to legendary status.

It’s annoying. Because in the context of rock guitar playing, the local talent pool is extensive. Current stars Courtney Barnett, Erica Dunn, and emerging musicians like Jaybird Bryne represent a legacy to the work of artists such as Suze DeMarchi, Orianthi, Adalita, Barb Waters and Sarah McLeod, all sharing commercial success as guitarists.

They sit alongside well-established independent artists really stretching the sonic parameters of the electric guitar in DIY/punk traditions including Penny Ikinger, Lisa Mackinney, Sarah Hardiman, Claire Birchall, Bonnie Mercer and Sarah Blaby.

Moving past the musical bias of the great, white, male not only expands our sonic palettes – it might also help us to rethink the limitations of binary gender roles more broadly. This means querying cultural inheritances like the axe, re-imagining who an elder might be, and embracing what they sound like.

Janelle K Johnstone, Associate Lecturer Crime, Justice and Legal Studies, PhD Candidate School of Social Inquiry, La Trobe University

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

We often hear young people need to get a job – any job – but what if the problem isn’t whether they’re working or not, but the kind of job they end up in?

New research in the Australian Journal of Social Issues shows many young people who are in roles where they’re not working to their full capacity are also in low-quality jobs.

Drawing on more than a decade of data from the Household, Income and Labour Dynamics in Australia Survey, my research examines young workers between the ages of 20 and 34 who were underemployed in one of three ways:

• they wanted more hours (time-related underemployment)

• they were underpaid for the work they did (wage-related underemployment)

• they weren’t using their skills in their current job (skills-related underemployment).

Job quality matters

Research shows poor jobs are linked to worse mental health, psychological distress and low job satisfaction.

In my research, I focused on three aspects of job quality – how demanding and complex the work is, how much control a worker has over their work and how secure they feel in their job. Underemployment affects all three.

When young people are underemployed, they also report having less control over their work and feeling less secure. They found these jobs were also less demanding and complex. They were boring.

This applied to both men and women.

Low wages and job security

Overall, young people earning less than they should also felt less secure in their jobs. But underpaid young women also reported significantly lower job control. So, they faced a double disadvantage.

Gender also mattered when it came to working fewer hours than they wanted.

While young women who were underemployed reported lower job security, men who wanted more hours didn’t feel any less secure than men with sufficient hours.

This suggests that for young women, working fewer hours isn’t just about lost income – it’s tied to a deeper sense of job insecurity.

These patterns applied whether or not someone was in a casual job. Young people in permanent roles could still be underemployed or in bad jobs. In other words, underemployment and poor job quality aren’t just a feature of casual or gig work.

It can be harder for women

While similar proportions of young men and women experienced underemployment related to time and skills, young women were more likely to experience wage-related underemployment.

For example, casual, lower-paid work often occurred in feminised sectors such as care and hospitality. These jobs are more likely to be overlooked and undervalued, even when they require significant skill.

These gendered patterns reflect the kinds of jobs young women are often funnelled into.

For young women, this can compound existing disadvantages over the course of their lives, especially when they’re in roles that are consistently undervalued.

Youth unemployment is only part of the problem

Politicians have long pushed the idea that young people should be “earning or learning”, to avoid the scourge of unemployment. But this thinking focuses too narrowly on youth unemployment and ignores a crucial question: are these jobs any good?

My research challenges that idea.

Underemployment is often hidden in plain sight. Someone might be working full-time, but still be underemployed. This is true if they’re underpaid, working below their qualification level, or not getting the hours they want.

To fix this, we need to pay greater attention to underemployment and to the quality of the jobs young people are doing. Too often, economists and policymakers are focused on the youth (un)employment rate, but that only tells half the story.

Brendan Churchill, ARC Senior Research Fellow and Senior Lecturer in Sociology, The University of Melbourne

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

If you’re feeling like the news is particularly bad at the moment, you’re not alone.

But many of us can’t look away – and don’t want to. Engaging with news can help us make sense of what’s going on and, for many of us, is an ethical stance.

So, how can you also take care of your mental health? Here’s how to balance staying informed with the impact negative news can have on our wellbeing.

Why am I feeling so affected by the news?

Our brains are wired to prioritise safety and survival, and respond rapidly to danger. Repeatedly activating such processes by consuming distressing news content – often called doomscrolling – can be mentally draining.

Unfiltered or uncensored images can have an especially powerful psychological impact. Graphic footage of tragedies circulating on social media may have a stronger effect than traditional media (such as television and newspapers) which are more regulated.

Research shows consuming negative news is linked to lower wellbeing and psychological difficulties, such as anxiety and feelings of uncertainty and insecurity. It can make us feel more pessimistic towards ourselves, other people, humanity and life in general.

In some cases, consuming a lot of distressing news can even cause vicarious trauma. This means you may experience post-traumatic stress symptoms such as flashbacks and trouble sleeping despite not being directly involved in the traumatic events.

But this doesn’t stop us seeking it out. In fact, we are more likely to read, engage with, and share stories that are negative.

Is there a better way to consume news?

Switching off may not be an option for everyone.

For example, if you have friends or family in areas affected by conflict, you may be especially concerned and following closely to see how they’re affected.

Even without personal ties to the conflict, many people want to stay informed and understand what is unfolding. For some, this is a moral decision which they feel may lead to action and positive change.

This is why, in research I co-authored, we suggest simply restricting your exposure to negative news is not always possible or practical.

Instead, we recommend engaging more mindfully with news. This means paying attention to shifts in your emotions, noticing how the news makes you feel, and slowing down when needed.

How to consume news more mindfully

When you plan to engage with news, there are some steps you can take.

1. Pause and take a few deep breaths. Take a moment to observe how your body is feeling and what your mind is doing.

2. Check in. Are you feeling tense? What else do you have going on today? Maybe you’re already feeling worried or emotionally stretched. Think about whether you’re feeling equipped to process negative news right now.

3. Reflect. What is motivating you to engage right now? What are you trying to find out?

4. Stay critical. As you read an article or watch a video, pay attention to how credible the source is, the level of detail provided and where the information comes from.

5. Tune into how it’s making you feel. Do you notice any physical signs of stress, such as tension, sweating or restlessness?

6. Take time. Before quickly moving on to another piece of news, allow yourself to process the information you’ve received as well as your response. Has it changed your emotions, thoughts or attitudes? Did it fulfil your intention? Do you still have energy to engage with more news?

It may not always be possible to take all these steps. But engaging more mindfully before, during and after you’re exposed to negative news can help you make more informed decisions about how and when to consume it – and when to take a break.

Signs the news is affecting your mental health

If you’re feeling emotionally overwhelmed, you’re more likely to have an automatic and emotion-driven response to what you’re reading or watching.

Signs your negative news consumption may be affecting your mental health include:

• compulsive engagement, feeling like you can’t stop checking or following negative news

• experiencing feelings of despair, hopelessness, or lack of motivation

• feeling irritable

• difficulty concentrating

• fatigue

• strong physical symptoms (such as an upset stomach)

• trouble sleeping

• an increase in rash or risky behaviours, or behaviours you don’t usually display when you’re calm, such as panic shopping and hoarding following news about bad events.

What should I do when I’m feeling upset?

First, take a break. This could be a few minutes or a few days – as long as it takes you to feel emotionally steady and ready to re-engage with negative news.

You might find it useful to reflect by writing down observations about how news is making you feel, and keeping track of intense fluctuations in emotions.

It can also be helpful to connect with supportive people around you and do activities you enjoy. Spending time outdoors and doing hands-on tasks, such as gardening, painting or sewing, can be particularly helpful when you’re feeling anxious or emotional.

But if you’re feeling overwhelmed and it’s affecting your work, life or relationships, it’s a good idea to seek professional help.

In Australia, the government provides free mental health support at walk-in Medicare Mental Health Centres, Kids Hubs or via phone.

Other free resources – including a symptom checker and links to online chat support – are available at Health Direct.

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

Reza Shabahang, Research Fellow in Human Cybersecurity, Monash University and Academic Researcher in Media Psychology, Flinders University

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

A young person gets a job, excited to earn their first paycheck. Over time, they realise the hours are long and the payslips small. They are told to stay back to clean up after closing, but never receive overtime. They feel exploited, but what can they do?

It’s hard to find a job that fits with study commitments, and a reference could go a long way in the future. Besides, it happens to all their co-workers; they’d hate to cause a fuss.

It’s a story as old as time, and it’s still happening today. Our new study has found wage exploitation is rife among employers who hire young people.

In partnership with the Paul Ramsay Foundation, Melbourne Law School’s Fair Day’s Work project surveyed 2,814 workers under 30.

Young workers in low-paid jobs were asked about their experiences in the workplace, the challenges they encountered, and how they dealt with exploitation.

How some bosses are treating young workers

We found young Australians are frequently underpaid and that exploitation is multifaceted:

• 33% were paid $15 per hour or less

• 43% had been told to complete extra work without additional pay

• 34% were not paid for work during a trial period

• 24% had not received compulsory super

• 35% had their timesheet hours reduced by their employer

• 17.9% had not been paid for all the work they completed

• 9% received an hourly rate of $10 or less

• 8% had been forced to return some, or all, of their pay to their employer.

Further, 60% had had to pay for work-related items, such as uniforms, protective equipment, training or car fuel. Some 36% had been forbidden to take entitled breaks while 35% had their recorded timesheet hours reduced by their employer. Meanwhile 20% were “sometimes” paid “off the books”, and 12% were “always” paid off the books. And 9.5% had been given food or products instead of being paid in money.

The most at risk

We found exploitation is most often experienced by the most vulnerable young people. These include transgender, non-permanent workers (casual employees and private contractors), residents on temporary visas) and non-native English speakers.

The worst-performing industries included electricity, gas, water and waste services; manufacturing; mining; transport, postal and warehousing; public administration and safety; information media and telecommunications; accommodation and food services; retail trade, and education and training.

Workers in small businesses (up to 19 staff) were often not paid overtime or penalty rates, and were being paid “off the books”.

Medium-sized business workers (20–199 employees) were the most likely to be required to pay for work-related items, such as equipment, training and car hire.

And those from large businesses (200-plus) reported the highest rates of variance of weekly hours and requirements to pay for work uniform.

Young people often don’t have much industrial knowledge or experience, so it is easy for employers to take advantage of them. They are also unlikely to challenge an employer, as many of them are in insecure work.

What steps are being taken?

Laws which took effect January 1 this year mean employers may face criminal penalties – including fines, imprisonment or both – if they intentionally underpay an employee in breach of the Fair Work Act 2009.

But identifying underpayments and other forms of exploitation are the biggest barrier to compliance with workplace laws.

Surveyed workers who were underpaid said they were most likely to seek the help of a family member. Only 12.9% of those aged 15 to 19 said they would be willing to complain to the Fair Work Ombudsman.

However, workers who had dealt with the ombudsman mostly saw their experiences as positive: 41% found the regulator to be “very helpful”, while only 16.7% described it as “not helpful at all” or “not very helpful”.

The results suggest the Fair Work Ombudsman needs to be doing more to engage teenage workers.

What’s needed

The Fair Day’s Work project set out to use data science and technology to identify risk of underpayment in relation to young workers, and improve employer compliance with workplace laws.

Our aim was to develop a database on young workers’ employment conditions, along with a web portal to give young people and employers the information they need.

We hypothesised that a prediction tool could be used to assess which young workers are at greatest risk. However, we found publicly available data was insufficient to do this, so we conducted our own survey of young workers and made this data available through a public web portal to help workers and employers.

We came up with six recommendations to help stop young workers being exploited:

1. Regulators need to get tougher with the nine industries we identified as the poorest performers to make them more compliant

2. The Fair Work Ombudsman should scrutinise the industries where payment was made in food or products and workers were required to return money to employers occurred most frequently

3. Educate mid-sized businesses on the extent to which they can lawfully require workers to pay for work-related items

4. Lawmakers and the Fair Work Commission should consider introducing truly equitable “loaded rates” for junior employees. This would deal with non-payment of penalty rates and other entitlements by some employers

5. More money to make young workers aware they can get help from the Fair Work Ombudsman, trade unions, community legal centres, the Young Workers’ Centre and similar bodies

6. More work to develop and use data science and digital tools to help employers fulfil their legal obligations, and to protect young workers’ rights.

Our survey results highlight the extent to which young people continue to be exploited in the workplace and suggest more work needs to be done to bring about change.

John Howe, Associate Dean (Research), Melbourne Law School, The University of Melbourne and Tom Dillon, Research Fellow, The University of Melbourne

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

The offer pops up in your social media feed. The website is professional and the imagery illustrates an Australian coastal region, or chic inner-CBD scene.

The brand name indicates this exclusive fashion retailer is based in Melbourne, Sydney, Adelaide, or an exclusive enclave such as Double Bay or Byron Bay.

The businesses have history, having apparently been “established” 30–40 years ago, and a story. The owners have reluctantly decided to close or relocate, resulting in significant discounts.

However, behind the illusion of prestige and luxury, is cheap, poorly manufactured clothing from Chinese factories.

The recent growth of these online “ghost stores” has led the Australian Consumer and Competition Commission to issue public warning notices about four websites.

Everly-melbourne.com, willowandgrace-adelaide.com, sophie-claire.com and doublebayboutique.com are the four named.

A new type of scam

The ACCC’s Targeting Scams report estimated Australians lost A$2.74 billion in 2023. Most losses were from investment scams ($1.3 billion), remote access scams ($256 million), and romance scams ($201.1 million).

However, online ghost store scams are so new, researchers and government agencies have not yet had time to measure the financial impact these businesses are having on consumers or legitimate fashion businesses.

It is possible a consumer, once stung by a ghost store scam, will be less likely to shop with a legitimate online fashion retailer.

This type of emerging scam was touched on in a 2015 report called Framework for a Taxonomy of Fraud. The report noted there were businesses selling “worthless or non-existent products”. Their sites made:

misleading claims about products that are exaggerated, undervalued, or non-existent.

Since the beginning of 2025, the ACCC reports it has received at least 360 complaints about 60 online ghost retailers. It says many more may be operating across several social media sites.

Tricky tactics

Ghost stores use a variety of tactics to attract unsuspecting customers.

Price: Customers regularly assume higher prices mean higher quality. Most customers seeing a “leather” jacket for $19.74 on Temu would expect low quality. However, a silk maxi-dress from Everly Melbourne reduced from $209.95 to $82.95 – a 60% saving – seems reasonable and reflective of normal mid-season clearance pricing. That fact it’s still priced at more than $80 also implies good quality.

Cosmopolitan localism: Researchers have reported that so-called cosmopolitan localism fosters meaningful consumer relationships with brands. Consumers are more likely to trust a business based in Melbourne or Byron Bay over one based internationally.

Adding images of a physical store front creates credibility and “realness”. Customers feel confident to buy from a little business based in Melbourne, Sydney or somewhere well known to them.

Storytelling: Storytelling can influence shoppers’ emotions and affect purchasing. It helps stimulate deeper emotional connections to a brand. Ghost stores will regularly create a narrative around “going out of business” to justify price discounts and pull on heart-strings.

Layout: A professionally developed website, with high-quality images, detailed product information, online payment methods and order tracking, creates the illusion of authenticity. Researchers have found luxury brand website designs can create a strong sense of luxury. This increases a willingness to buy.

How to spot a “ghost”

When the post indicates “closing today” or “closing down sale ends tonight”, it is very easy to impulsively jump in to take advantage of the savings. However, before you click, check for these red flags:

1. The website does not provide a contact phone number or physical address for the store. There might just be an email address or web form. Simply entering the suspected store into google maps will indicate no physical location.

2. The website domain is “.com” rather than “.com.au”. This indicates the store is not an Australian-based business.

3. Is the business registered? ABN Lookup is the free public view of the Australian Business Register – a quick search will identify that the Double Bay designer isn’t registered locally.

4. Review platforms, including Trustpilot, often have negative reviews for the business, whereas the business’ website only features very positive reviews.

5. The images of products or even the owner may be AI generated. For example, Harry – Melbourne, is apparently an artisan watchmaker. However, simply right-clicking on the image reveals Harry is an AI-generated image.

A cautionary note

Online shopping is risky. You can’t physically touch or interact with the product to determine its quality. Three types of risks are common when shopping online. These are performance risk (it doesn’t work, doesn’t fit well, or the quality is poor), financial risk (losing your money on a poor-quality product), and time-loss risk (refund processing takes weeks).

As such, customers must trust the online retailer to act honestly and describe products accurately. When trust is breached, consumers will naturally become cautious even about legitimate online retailers.

As ghost stores scams increasingly populate social media feeds, unsuspecting consumers will continue to get caught out. This will leave legitimate retailers exposed to scepticism and mistrust.

Gary Mortimer, Professor of Marketing and Consumer Behaviour, Queensland University of Technology

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

You’re standing at your front door, facing a five kilometre commute to work. But you don’t have your car, and there’s no bus route. You can walk for an hour – or jump on your bicycle and arrive in 15 minutes, barely breaking a sweat. You choose the latter.

Many people would make the same choice. It’s estimated that there are more than a billion bikes in the world. Cycling represents one of the most energy-efficient forms of transport ever invented, allowing humans to travel faster and farther while using less energy than walking or running.

But why exactly does pedalling feel so much easier than pounding the pavement? The answer lies in the elegant biomechanics of how our bodies interact with this two-wheeled machine.

A wonderfully simple machine

At its heart, a bicycle is wonderfully simple: two wheels (hence “bi-cycle”), pedals that transfer power through a chain to the rear wheel, and gears that let us fine-tune our effort. But this simplicity masks an engineering that perfectly complements human physiology.

When we walk or run, we essentially fall forward in a controlled manner, catching ourselves with each step. Our legs must swing through large arcs, lifting our heavy limbs against gravity with every stride. This swinging motion alone consumes a lot of energy. Imagine: how tiring would it be to even swing your arms continuously for an hour?

On a bicycle, your legs move through a much smaller, circular motion. Instead of swinging your entire leg weight with each step, you’re simply rotating your thighs and calves through a compact pedalling cycle. The energy savings are immediately noticeable.

But the real efficiency gains come from how bicycles transfer human power to forward motion. When you walk or run, each footstep involves a mini-collision with the ground. You can hear it as the slap of your shoe against the road, and you can feel it as vibrations running through your body. This is energy being lost, literally dissipated as sound and heat after being sent through your muscles and joints.

Walking and running also involve another source of inefficiency: with each step, you actually brake yourself slightly before propelling forward. As your foot lands ahead of your body, it creates a backwards force that momentarily slows you down. Your muscles then have to work extra hard to overcome this self-imposed braking and accelerate you forward again.

Kissing the road

Bicycles use one of the world’s great inventions to solve these problems – wheels.

Instead of a collision, you get rolling contact – each part of the tyre gently “kisses” the road surface before lifting off. No energy is lost to impact. And because the wheel rotates smoothly so the force acts perfectly vertically on the ground, there’s no stop-start braking action. The force from your pedalling translates directly into forward motion.

But bicycles also help our muscles to work at their best. Human muscles have a fundamental limitation: the faster they contract, the weaker they become and the more energy they consume.

This is the famous force-velocity relationship of muscles. And it’s why sprinting feels so much harder than jogging or walking – your muscles are working near their speed limit, becoming less efficient with every stride.

Bicycle gears solve this problem for us. As you go faster, you can shift to a higher gear so your muscles don’t have to work faster while the bike accelerates. Your muscles can stay in their sweet spot for both force production and energy cost. It’s like having a personal assistant that continuously adjusts your workload to keep you in the peak performance zone.

Walking sometimes wins out

But bicycles aren’t always superior.

On very steep hills of more than about 15% gradient (so you rise 1.5 metres every 10 metres of distance), your legs struggle to generate enough force through the circular pedalling motion to lift you and the bike up the hill. We can produce more force by pushing our legs straight out, so walking (or climbing) becomes more effective.

Even if roads were built, we wouldn’t pedal up Mount Everest.

This isn’t the case for downhills. While cycling downhill becomes progressively easier (eventually requiring no energy at all), walking down steep slopes actually becomes harder.

Once the gradient exceeds about 10% (it drops by one metre for every ten metres of distance), each downhill step creates jarring impacts that waste energy and stress your joints. Walking and running downhill isn’t always as easy as we’d expect.

Not just a transportation device

The numbers speak for themselves. Cycling can be at least four times more energy-efficient than walking and eight times more efficient than running. This efficiency comes from minimising three major energy drains: limb movement, ground impact and muscle speed limitations.

So next time you effortlessly cruise past pedestrians on your morning bike commute, take a moment to appreciate the biomechanical work of art beneath you. Your bicycle isn’t just a transport device, but a perfectly evolved machine that works in partnership with your physiology, turning your raw muscle power into efficient motion.

Anthony Blazevich, Professor of Biomechanics, Edith Cowan University

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

These days when you see people exercising, they’re usually also listening to music, whether they’re at the gym, or out jogging on the street.

It makes sense, as studies have shown listening to music can help you get the most out of a workout.

Somehow the ancient Greeks and Romans knew this too, long before modern science was there to back it.

A more than 2,000-year-old habit

In his oration To the People of Alexandria, the Greek writer Dio Chrysostom (40-110 CE) complained about a phenomenon he saw all the time.

Dio wrote people loved to listen to music in their daily activities. According to him, music could be found in the courtroom, in the lecture theatre, in the doctor’s room, and even in the gym.

“Everything is done to music […] people will presently go so far as to use song to accompany their exercise in the gymnasium,” Dio wrote.

But exercising to music wasn’t a new thing in his day. This practice has been recorded across the ancient Greek and Roman worlds from the earliest times, and as far back as the poems of Homer (circa 800 BCE).

Why exercise to music?

There are many depictions of professional athletes training, or competing, to the accompaniment of music in ancient Greek vase paintings.

In one vase painting from the 5th century BCE, a group of athletes trains while a musician plays the aulos, a type of ancient pipe instrument.

The ancient writer Plutarch of Chaeronea (46-119 CE) tells us music was also played while people wrestled or did athletics.

Athenian writer Flavius Philostratus (circa 170-245 CE) offers clues as to why. In a book about gymnastics, Philostratus wrote music served to stimulate athletes, and that their performance might be improved through listening to music.

Today’s researchers have proven this to be true. One 2020 study involving 3,599 participants showed listening to music during exercise had many benefits, such as reducing the perception of fatigue and exertion, and improving physical performance and breathing.

Singing and trumpets

Since ancient people didn’t have electronic devices, they found other ways to exercise to music. Some had music played by a musician during their exercise routine. Others sang while they exercised.

Singing while playing ball games was particularly popular. In Homer’s Odyssey (circa 8th century BCE), Nausicaa, the daughter of the King of Phaeacia, plays a ball game with her girl friends, and they all sing songs as they play.

Similarly, the historian Carystius of Pergamum (2nd century BCE) wrote the women of his time “sang as they played ball”.

Another popular activity was dancing to music. Dancing was widely regarded as a gymnastic exercise people could do for better health.

One famous advocate of the benefits of dancing as exercise was the great Athenian philosopher Socrates (circa 470-399 BCE). According to the historian Diogenes Laertius (3rd century CE), “it was Socrates’ regular habit to dance, thinking that such exercise helped to keep the body in good condition”.

Apart from individuals using music in their personal exercise, soldiers also did training exercises, and marched to battle, to the sound of trumpets.

Don’t skip leg day

There was a belief in ancient Greek and Roman that music and exercise played an important role in shaping and developing the body and soul.

The ideal was harmony and moderation. The body and soul needed to be balanced and proportionate in all their parts, without any excess. As such, doing one kind of exercise too often, or exercising one body part excessively, was frowned upon.

The physician Galen of Pergamum (129-216 CE) criticised types of exercise that focused too much on one part of the body. He preferred ball games as they exercised the whole body evenly.

Immoderation in music – that is, listening to too much, or listening to music that was too emotional – was also sometimes frowned upon.

For example, the Athenian philosopher Plato (circa 428-348 BCE) famously argued most music should be censored as it can stir the passions too strongly. Plato thought only simple and unemotional music, listened to in moderation, should be allowed.

If the ancients could see today’s people running along the pavement with music thumping in their ears, they would surely be amazed. And they’d probably approve – as long as it wasn’t being done in excess.

Konstantine Panegyres, Lecturer in Classics and Ancient History, The University of Western Australia

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

Almost 60 years after former prime minister Harold Holt began to dismantle the White Australia Policy, The Neighbour at the Gate at Sydney’s National Art School Gallery presents a thoughtful examination of the consequences when good neighbours become good friends.

Street posters promoting the exhibition feature an image of a magpie. Advertising always distorts. Pardu (Tirritpa) by James Tylor, who has Kaurna and Mãori heritage, is a series of groupings of exquisite small bird daguerreotypes. Their shadowed silver surface gives the impression of antiquity, which is Tylor’s intention.

In Kaurna, the names of birds come from the songs they sing. This is also how birds are named in many Asian languages. Onomatopoeia makes a bridge between cultures. A QR code on the wall next to each grouped images of birds allows the viewer to hear blends of birdsong with human music.

Remembering the past

The visitor enters the exhibition through Imaginary Homelands, Jacky Cheng’s installation in the shape of a traditional Chinese paifang (牌坊).

The 1,110 strips of paper, with fragments of Chinese characters, represent a poem she learnt as child in Kuala Lumpur. But some of the language has been lost by the distortions of time. She now lives on Yawuru country (Broome), an Australian town with close links to many South East Asian cultures.

In remembering her past, she grasps elements of her Malay Chinese heritage.

Dennis Golding’s Bingo is possibly as fragmented a memory as Cheng’s. Golding, a Kamilaroi/Gamilaraay man, has made a tribute to the community space his Nan and Aunty created in an abandoned terrace house in the Block at Redfern, where at night they would play bingo.

Each of the etchings scattered across the wall is the size of brick; each quotes small details of community life in Redfern before it was “discovered” by the gentrifiers. The exquisite etchings appear to be scattered at random, but a careful look will show the word “Bingo” in white in the spaces on the wall.

Elham Eshraghian-Haakansson’s God of War is a beautiful and sensual video on love, rage, reconciliation and the emotional journey of being a refugee.

Eshraghian-Haakansson is a second generation Iranian-Australian whose work is shaped in part by the experience of her mother and grandmother, whose Baha'i faith placed them in peril in 1979 after the Ayatollahs seized power. The different segments of this elegant video are deliberately broken by rough insertions, giving it a sense of a work reclaimed from history.

Along the water

Jenna Mayilema Lee’s complex installation in three parts is both a universal statement on the integration that is the long-term consequence of the meeting of cultures, and a personal statement on her own circumstances.

Each component – the photographic mural, the video and the billabong sculpture – can be seen as an independent work, but when combined they form magic.

Lee is truly a modern Australian, descended from Gulumerridjin (Larrakia), Wardaman, KarraJarri people as well as having Japanese, Filipino, Chinese and Anglo ancestors.

The lotus sculptures in the billabong are constructed from copies of immigration documentation. Her Chinese ancestors were living in Australia well before the White Australia policy of 1901. When they needed to travel, bureaucracy demanded multiple forms.

She has layered the forms with a hand print from one of her Japanese ancestors which, much to her pleasure, she discovered is the same size as her own hand.

The billabongs of northern Australia, especially in Larrakia country, are filled with lotus plants. The ancestors of the lotus plants of northern Australia floated across the narrow seas from Asia many years ago, in much the same way as people.

Water does not always bring life. James Nguyen’s Homeopathies_where new trees grow, is a reminder of another consequence of colonisation.

As with many other Vietnamese Australians, his family lives near the Parramatta and Duck rivers, west of central Sydney. One of the horrors of the Vietnam war was the way Agent Orange, destroyed both the jungle and the lives of people who came into contact with it.

Agent Orange was made by Union Carbide, near the Parramatta River. When the factory closed the contaminated site was not properly sealed and the poison seeped into the river.

Nguyen’s giant floating textile is of made of raw cotton and silk strips, dyed with mud and weeds contaminated by dioxin and Agent Orange. The evil of contamination is countered by clay pinchpot incense holders which line the stairs and entrances to the exhibition.

The cleansing smoke of incense is another link between the cultures of Asia and those of Australia’s First Nations people.

The Neighbour at the Gate is a generous and inclusive exhibition, a reminder of a common humanity. Clothilde Bullen, who heads the curatorium with Micheal Do and Zali Morgan, sees art as a way of countering divisions in society.

She told me:

If we are to work as a society and if we are to work as a community then we have to call people in, and we have to be prepared to embrace that difference. And so that is really what this show is all about.

The Neighbour at the Gate is at the National Art School Galleries, Sydney, until October 18.

Joanna Mendelssohn, Honorary Senior Fellow, School of Culture and Communication, The University of Melbourne

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

Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are advised this article contains images of deceased people.

First Nations garments have always held deep meaning. What we wear tells stories about culture, Country and community.

From the moment of invasion, clothing and adornment were removed and used to erase our cultural presence. But resistance never stopped.

Today, First Nations designers, artists and community members continue to reclaim garments as acts of survival, empowerment and self-determination.

Cultural practices like cloak-making and adornment are linked to wellbeing. They restore pride, connect to ancestors and Country, and build community.

First Nations fashion designers and artists create exquisite items that represent culture, speak back to colonisation, and contribute to healing.

A shared experience

Like so many others, what I wear is deeply personal. I have my dad’s old Aboriginal rugby guernsey. He wore it for years. Now I wear it. It’s a piece of him I get to carry.

It’s a part of what links me to my research in understanding First Nations fashion and style as living expressions of who we are.

I had the chance to yarn with 20 Aboriginal Knowledge Holders from Tarntanya (Adelaide), Naarm (Melbourne) and Warrane (Sydney) about their fashion and style choices.

Like many of the people I spoke to in this study, we use First Nations fashion and style as a way to stay connected to culture and community and express identity and resistance.

Fashion as connection and solidarity

For many of the Knowledge Holders I spoke with, wearing First Nations clothing and adornment connects them to culture and community.

It becomes a way to share who they are and stand together in a world that has tried to silence and erase them.

The Knowledge Holders wear everything from subtle pins and badges to bold hoodies, t-shirts and merch with Aboriginal flag motifs and slogans. Some choose delicate shawls or clothing with cultural artworks.

As one Knowledge Holder put it, it’s “a contribution, a brick in the wall” that helps the building of identity and belonging.

For mob living off-Country in cities or overseas, wearing culture becomes an important way to stay connected.

This sense of connection can also show up in the most ordinary places.

Several Knowledge Holders shared how wearing an Aboriginal shirt in places like the supermarket often sparks a moment of connection. Sometimes they approach others, sometimes they’re the ones approached.

Fashion as pride and cultural practice

For most of the Knowledge Holders, wearing First Nations clothing affirms their Aboriginality and gives them a sense of pride.

For some, it’s about proudly showing who they are, especially in a society where racism still exists. That pride runs through generations.

Some talked about how they weren’t always allowed to show their First Nations identity openly, but now they can wear cultural clothing freely, all of the time.

The Knowledge Holders wear First Nations fashions at work, in shops, when travelling overseas, at graduations and especially at cultural events or protests.

Another Knowledge Holder shared how fashion filled a gap, giving First Nations people the words and symbols to express their culture and identity.

This Knowledge Holder declared, “fashion helped the pride come out”.

Others shared that even though wearing these clothes can mean dealing with racism or ignorance, they still choose to show that pride.

Fashion as identity and protest

For many of the Knowledge Holders, First Nations fashion and style is a way to strengthen their identity, share culture and protest.

They talked about wearing protest clothing as a clear political statement, especially at marches, NAIDOC events or on Invasion Day.

For many, clothing is how they show who they are, both to themselves and to others.

One Knowledge Holder said

if I don’t wear something Indigenous, they wouldn’t know that I was.

Some pointed out that First Nations fashion and style can be an important sign for them, especially if they feel they “pass” as non-Indigenous or look ethnically ambiguous.

But not all Knowledge Holders use fashion to show their identity. One told me they only wear First Nations clothing in solidarity with others, not as personal expression.

There’s more to learn and do

First Nations fashion and style is so much more than just clothing. It’s memory, resistance and a story we carry on our bodies.

As one of the Knowledge Holders put it:

we wasn’t allowed to be proud of it. Now we can wear [an Aboriginal] t-shirt whenever, all day every day.

That says it all. But there’s still work to do. We need to keep learning and understanding about all the different layers and identities that shape these experiences.

There is more research to be done to include more voices, like those of diverse genders and sexualities, Torres Strait Islanders and regional fashion scenes.

And it’s not just about research. We need more policies, more exhibitions, more programs and more platforms that celebrate First Nations fashion and style.

Treena Clark, Chancellor’s Indigenous Research Fellow, Faculty of Design and Society, University of Technology Sydney

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

The Bayeux tapestry is set to return to the UK for the first time in almost 1,000 years. One of the most important cultural artefacts in the world, it is to be displayed at the British Museum from September 2026.

Its significance for history is unquestioned – but you may not think of the Bayeux tapestry as a work of art. Sure, you may recognise it from your history lessons or political campaigns. Maybe you like embroidery and textiles or know about it because of the modern versions it inspired – think the Game of Thrones tapestry or the Great Tapestry of Scotland. Perhaps you are an early medievalist and use it as comparative evidence.

For me, this now famous wall hanging is undoubtedly art, created with great skill. What fascinates me as a textile archaeologist is how early medieval people saw and understood the tapestry.

First, let’s contextualise it a little. The hanging is not a woven tapestry but an embroidery, stitched in wool threads on nine panels of linen fabric that were then sewn together. It was made in around 1070, probably in England. Nobody knows how big it originally was, but it now measures 68.3 metres long by approximately 70cm high.

Starting at the end of Edward the Confessor’s reign (1042-1066), the tapestry’s comic book narrative tells a vivid, very modern story of the struggle for power and the English throne – and the brutal means William of Normandy (1028-1087) used to get it.

This article is part of Rethinking the Classics. The stories in this series offer insightful new ways to think about and interpret classic books and artworks. This is the canon – with a twist.

It follows the highs and lows of Harold Godwinson, Edward the Confessor’s brother-in-law, who became king after Edward’s death in 1066, and his eventual downfall at the Battle of Hastings.

The end of the hanging, and therefore the story, is now missing but it was probably the triumphal coronation of William. It would have provided a mirror in symmetry to the first scene, which depicts an enthroned Edward.

Sensory archaeology of the tapestry

Today, the hanging is famous because it is the only surviving example of its kind. But documentary sources from early medieval England demonstrate that this type of wall hanging was a popular way for families to depict their stories and great deeds.

A good example is the Byrhtnoth wall hanging, which Æthelflæd, the wife of an Anglo-Saxon Ealdorman of Essex Byrhtnoth, gave to the church in Ely after he was killed in 991. We know that the Normans also understood these storytelling wall hangings because Abbot Baudri of Bourgueil (c. 1050-1130) expertly incorporated such a device in a poem he wrote to honour Adela of Blois (c. 1067-1137), the daughter of William the Conqueror and Matilda (c. 1031-1083).

The Bayeux tapestry was, therefore, an obvious way to tell people about the downfall of the English and the rise of the Normans. But this is not all. The early medieval population of Britain loved riddles, multilayered meanings and hidden messages. Evidence survives in pieces like the gold buckle from the 7th-century Sutton Hoo ship burial, the early 8th-century Franks Casket and the 10th-century Book of Exeter. So it is not surprising that people today have argued for hidden messages in the Bayeux tapestry.

While these concepts are interesting, so much emphasis has been placed on them and the role the embroiderers played in creating them, that other ways of early medieval viewing and understanding have been ignored.

Early medieval society viewed its world through the senses. By using sensory archaeology, a theoretical approach that helps researchers understand how past societies interacted with their worlds through sight, touch, taste, smell and sound, we can imagine how people encountering the Bayeux tapestry would have connected with and understood it.

Art historian Linda Neagley has argued that pre-Renaissance people interacted with art visually, kinaesthetically (sensory perception through bodily movement) and physically. The Bayeux tapestry would have been hung at eye level to enable this. So if we take expert in Anglo-Saxon culture Gale Owen-Crocker’s idea that the tapestry was originally hung in a square with certain scenes facing each other, people would have stood in the centre. That would make it an 11th-century immersive space with scenes corresponding and echoing each other, drawing the viewer’s attention, playing on their senses and understanding of the story they thought they knew.

If we imagine ourselves entering that space, we move from a cooler, stone-hewn room into a warmer, softer area, encased in linen and wool, their smell tickling our noses. Outside sounds would be deadened, the movement of people softened, voices quietened. People would move from one scene to another, through the open doors of the stage-like buildings where the action inside can be seen and watched, boldly or surreptitiously. The view might be partially blocked by others and their reactions and gesticulations as they engaged with and discussed what they saw.

The bright colours of the embroidery would have made a kaleidoscope of colour, a blur that defined itself the closer people got to the work. The boldness and three-dimensionality of the stitching helped to draw them into the action while any movement of the hanging brought the imagery alive.

Here are the main characters in the room with you, telling you their story, inviting you to join them on their journeys of victory or doom.

As onlookers discussed what they saw, or read the inscriptions, they interacted with the embroidered players, giving them voice and enabling them to join the conversation. If the hanging formed part of a banquet then the smell of food, clanking of dishes and movement of the fabric and stitchwork as servants passed would have enhanced the experience. The feasting scenes dotted throughout the hanging would be echoed in the hall.

I believe the Bayeux tapestry was not simply an inanimate art object to be viewed and read from the outside. It was an immersive retelling of the end of an era and the start of something new. When you entered its space you became part of that story, sensorially reliving it, keeping it alive. To me, this is the true power of this now famous embroidery.

Beyond the canon

As part of the Rethinking the Classics series, we’re asking our experts to recommend a book or artwork that tackles similar themes to the canonical work in question, but isn’t (yet) considered a classic itself. Here is Alexandra Makin’s suggestion:

The ITV series Unforgotten, now in its sixth season (with a seventh on the way) gripped me from the start. It follows a team of British police detectives as they track down the killers of people whose bodies have been recently found, but who were murdered years before.

As they do, we, the viewer, are given access to the characters’ often emotional stories. We are brought into their sphere and experience their pain, distress, happiness, horror. We get unrivalled access, eventually, to the motives for their seemingly strange actions. As with the Bayeux tapestry, we are swallowed up in their worlds. This is achieved by Chris Lang’s fabulous writing, the cinematography and the exquisite acting.

Together these elements make a whole, opening a window, immersing you in a world full of powerful sensory engagements. For me, this is classic art in the making.

Alexandra Makin, Third Century Research Fellow, Manchester Metropolitan University

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

Australia’s closest neighbour, Papua New Guinea, is a place of remarkable cultural diversity. Home to cultures speaking more than 800 languages, this region has been interconnected by seafaring trade networks for thousands of years.

Because seafaring was most often undertaken by men, it has long been assumed by anthropologists and archaeologists that information sharing between different cultures came via men.

Our new archaeological research sheds light on the often overlooked role of women in developing past trade relationships. We found knowledge being shared that couldn’t have been shared among men – pointing the direction towards complicated relationships between women in cultures based hundreds of kilometres apart.

The adventurous deeds of male seafarers

In 1883, Papua New Guinea was colonised and annexed by Britain. Foreign anthropologists such as Darwin’s collaborator Thomas Huxley, Charles Seligman and Bronislaw Malinowski arrived shortly after.

These male anthropologists became enamoured of the region’s seagoing trade networks, featuring huge sailing canoes, dangerous voyages and complex trade relationships.

Their accounts often focused on the seafaring heroics of the men of Papua New Guinea. This is partly because they spoke to men almost exclusively, and partly because they admired fellow seagoing, risk-taking adventurers.

The best example of this is Malinowski’s famous book Argonauts of the Western Pacific (1922), where he likens the voyagers of the Trobriands to Jason’s band of male adventurers in Greek mythology.

Women seldom took centre stage in these histories.

Yet crucially, women maintained the knowledge of how to make the earthenware pottery used for trade.

Tracing trade through pottery

These early anthropologists left us with detailed but male-focused accounts of trade networks. It is left to today’s archaeologists to trace histories of trade back in time, using material culture and carbon dates to see when it began.

Most of the archaeology over the past six decades has taken place around Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea’s capital.

This is the homeland of the Motu people (among others), famous for their long-distance trade.

In the late 19th century, Motu men sailed west each year in fleets of up to 20 ships carrying some 20,000 pots. These were then traded for food with people in the Gulf of Papua.

Archaeologists who began researching seafaring and trade on Papua New Guinea’s south coast in the 1960s were enthralled by early anthropological accounts. When they started to uncover similar-looking pieces of pottery across 400km of coastline, they thought it was probably made in one location and carried by seafarers.

The most famous archaeological site near Port Moresby is Motupore Island. Excavations in the 1970s and 1980s recovered a staggering four tons of pottery fragments.

In 2022, we began new excavations at Hood Bay, 100km to the east of Motupore Island, in partnership with the local Keapara communities. We found pieces of pottery with the same decorations as those found at Motupore Island. Yet there was no evidence of pottery ever being made in Hood Bay.

Reflecting on what anthropologists had earlier written, it seemed reasonable to think that pottery was brought to Hood Bay by seafaring traders. But a crucial puzzle piece was missing: where was the pottery made?

Shedding light on women’s roles

We used an advanced type of scanning electron microscopy to compare the minerals and clay in pottery from Hood Bay and Motupore.

Earthenware pottery is mostly made from clay and sand. By finding out what types of sand minerals are in the pottery we can see where it might have been made.

To our surprise, we found the pottery was indeed locally made and was not traded by sea from Port Moresby. This is the first evidence of pottery being made in Hood Bay, a practice that was lost sometime in the past 300 years.

So why did the pottery from two distant locations look so similar? If the pottery was not being traded, people must have been exchanging ideas about how to make it.

Like the pottery, women’s tattoo designs at the two locations were also the same. This suggests community relationships were maintained through women sharing knowledge.

Tattooing was an important women’s cultural practice in these regions, and tattoos signified major life stages such as marriage.

Interestingly, the marriage tattoos used in Port Moresby and Hood Bay were identical in the 19th century, but no one that anthropologists spoke to remembered why. The tattoo designs suggest that Motu and Keapara women were once in very close contact.

Successful pottery production requires precise skills. Becoming a proficient pottery maker was a long learning process for Motu women who acquired the skills needed from their aunts and mothers.

The identical decoration on pots made by Motu and Keapara women can only be explained if ideas about pottery decoration were shared by women among each other and passed down through generations. Men were not involved in making pottery, so this knowledge was not shared by seafaring men.

This means it was not the trading ventures of men that connected coastal villages, but women’s know-how.

Women moved between villages and carried with them the knowledge of how to make and decorate pottery and shared ideas about tattoo designs.

Hundreds of years ago it was women who caused cultural traditions to spread – possibly through intermarriage – linking communities along Papua New Guinea’s south coast.

Robert Skelly, Archaeologist, Monash University; Barbara Etschmann, Research Officer, School of Earth, Atmosphere and Environment, Monash University; Chris Urwin, Australian Research Council DECRA Research Fellow, Monash University; Joël Brugger, Professor of Synchrotron Geosciences, Monash University, and Teppsy Beni, PhD Candidate (Archaeology), School of Humanities and Communication, University of Southern Queensland

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

You probably have a drawer full of T-shirts. They’re comfy, easy to style, cheap and ubiquitous. But the T-shirt is anything but basic. For 70 years, they’ve been worn as a tool for self-expression, rebellion and protest. And in 2025, the slogan T-shirt is as powerful as it has ever been.

Previously worn as an undergarment, the T-shirt became outerwear after the second world war. Snugly dressed on the bodies of physically fit young men, it came to signify heroism, youth and virility.

The T-shirt was adopted by sub-cultural groups such as bikers and custom car fanatics. And it was popularised by Hollywood stars, including Marlon Brando and James Dean. By the mid-1950s, it had become a symbol of rebellion and cool.

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From the 1960s onwards, slogan T-shirts gained momentum in America and Britain, and women began wearing them as the fashions became more casual. In the postmodern era, language became less about function and more about individualistic expression and exploration. This playful approach to words, combined with an emphasis on design and social commentary, made the T-shirt an ideal canvas for the championing of individual thought.

Anti-war messaging dominated slogans in the US during the Vietnam war and amid the increasing threat of nuclear war. Perhaps the most recognised slogan featured the artwork from John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s famous 1969 “War is Over” campaign, a T-shirt which is still being replicated today. Messages of peace on clothing, whether featuring words or symbols, have stayed in our collective wardrobe ever since, from high fashion to high street.

In the 1970s, the New York Times called T-shirts the “the medium of the message”, and the message itself was becoming ever more subversive. Slogan tees sought to provoke, whether through humour or controversy.

Punks were especially good at it. They constructed what subculture theorist Dick Hebdige called a “guttersnipe rhetoric” in his 1979 study Subculture: The Meaning of Style. Designers Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren paved the way for a DIY approach where slogans were often scrawled, expressive and upended social codes.

The slogan shirt in the fight for LGBTQ+ rights

Manufacturing and printing advancements in the postmodern era also meant that more designs could be printed en masse – a development used by the LGBTQ+ community and its allies.

Some of the most memorable slogan T-shirts in history were created in response to the Aids epidemic in the 1980s. The most poignant simply read “Silence = Death”. Originally a poster, the design was printed on T-shirts by the Aids Coalition to Unleash Power (known as “Act Up”) for protesters to wear.

Those affected by Aids were demonised and largely ignored, so the queer community was reliant on activism to incite action from government and their fellow citizens.

In After Silence: A History of Aids through Its Images (2018), author Avram Finkelstein describes the grassroots activism of the time as an “act of call and response, a request for participation” for the lives at stake. In a pre-internet world, T-shirts provided a platform to make the fight visible.

The 80s also saw slogan T-shirts enter pop cultural spaces as well as political ones, most notably with designs from Katharine Hamnett. Known for their oversized fit, their politically charged messages adorned the torsos of celebrities including George Michael and Debbie Harry. In 1984, Hamnett made fashion history when she met then-prime minister Margaret Thatcher while wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with “58% Don’t Want Pershing”, referencing her anti-nuclear sentiment.

That same year, Hamnett’s “Choose Life” design gained icon status when it was worn in a music video by Wham!. Originally a reference to the central teachings of Buddhism, “Choose Life” took on complex meaning when read in the context of the Aids epidemic, Thatcherism and economic instability.

The slogan was later used in the opening monologue of the cult film Trainspotting (1996), which is set in an impoverished and drug-fuelled Edinburgh. The design has been reworked countless times, including by Hamnett herself for the refugee charity Choose Love.

In author Stephanie Talbot’s 2013 book Slogan T-shirts: Cult and Culture, she explains that slogan tees can move through time to achieve iconic status. While the Choose Life tee has transcended time and generations, it also shows how the intended message of a slogan can change depending on the wearer and the observer, and the environment within which it’s worn.

Today, to Hamnett’s consternation, Choose Life has been co-opted by pro-life campaigners, not only taking on a different meaning but flipping across the political spectrum.

Who gets to wear a slogan shirt?

When we wear a slogan T-shirt, we are transferring our internal self to an external, public self, creating an extension of ourselves that invites others to perceive us. This creates opportunities for conflict as well as connection and community, putting our bodies (particularly those that are marginalised) at risk.

In 2023 for example, numerous peaceful protesters were arrested for wearing Just Stop Oil T-shirts, highlighting how unsafe – and potentially unlawful – it can be to wear a slogan T-shirt.

However, the LGBTQ+ community is continuing to seize the power of the slogan T-shirt – not in spite of law changes, but because of them.

Designer Connor Ives closed his 2025 London Fashion Week show wearing a T-shirt that read “Protect the Dolls”, during a time of increasing politicisation of trans lives and gender healthcare. The term “dolls” is one of endearment in queer spaces that refers to those who identify as feminine, including trans women.

After receiving a “groundswell” of support, the T-shirt went into production to raise money for American charity Trans Lifeline. Numerous celebrities have since worn the design, including actor Pedro Pascal and musician Troye Sivan, to show their support in the face of multiple law changes.

In a world that increasingly feels like it’s in turmoil, for many, the humble T-shirt still feels like a space where we can express how we truly feel.

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Liv Auckland, Lecturer in Fashion Communication and Creative Direction and Curation for Fashion, Nottingham Trent University

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

The modern science biography must hold back no punches in its mission to represent the subject’s life, equally celebrating their great works while including their personal shortcomings.

Jürgen Neffe’s Einstein: A Biography (2005) and Dava Sobel’s The Elements of Marie Curie (2024) are wonderful examples of this style. Such books succeed in clearly explaining the complex science of their subject’s work for non-scientific readers, enabling a deep appreciation of their achievements and bringing them to life as rounded, flawed humans.

Review: Every Living Thing – The Great and Deadly Race to Know all Life – Jason Roberts (Hachette)

Jason Roberts’ Every Living Thing – The Great and Deadly Race to Know all Life is another of these rare works. This engrossing, precisely researched book focuses on two central characters born in the same year: Carl Linnaeus (1707-1778), a Swede, and Frenchman Georges-Louis LeClerc, the Compte de Buffon (1707-1788), better known as just Buffon.

Roberts’ book won the 2025 Pulitzer Prize for biography. His writing pulls the reader effortlessly through the story, revealing delightful, unexpected twists and turns in the two men’s complex and disparate lives. Each worked diligently to reach a level of global notoriety for their many published books. Both are revered in the natural history world today.

Linnaeus, a biologist and physician, is known for his system of hierarchical classification: how all living things comprise a genus and species, (we humans are Homo sapiens), which fit into families, orders, classes and so on. (A good many intermediate ranks were added later). While his work has been hugely influential, Linnaeus is portrayed by Roberts at times as being lazy, vain and unethical.

Linnaeus was primarily driven to be the first to name new species. Buffon was working on a grand thesis of how all life’s organisms function and are related to one another. A wealthy count who inherited a vast fortune at the age of ten, Buffon trained as a lawyer but became fascinated by the trees that grew in his large garden.

Buffon is best known today for his extensive books on natural history and works on mathematics and cosmology. He calculated the Earth was much older than the Bible predicted and that life sprung from unorganised matter. He explored the relationships between organisms rather than how they were classified. His core work formed the basis for modern evolutionary theory.

Why was all this important? At the time, the task of classifying plants was vital to the growing economies of nations. Travellers to the far reaches of the globe brought back examples of economically valuable new species, like plant foods, medicinal plants or beautiful ornamental specimens.

The author’s central thesis is Linnaeus was not as brilliant as history paints him and Buffon was a far greater genius for his day. Where does genius come from, Roberts asks? Is it inherent by birth, grown from an inspiring education, or is it something within that is nurtured by passion?

Both these brilliant men who made a lasting mark on science came from not very inspiring families. Nor did they excel at school or university. This story shows success in academic work is not just about intellect, but intimately tied to the ethics and morality of doing research.

Was Linneaus autistic?

At the age of four, young Carl Linnaeus was fascinated by plants and had a gift for remembering their names. Seeking to become a botanist, he was first thwarted by his mediocrity at school where he failed miserably, preventing him from entering into a medical degree. He later went to the Netherlands to buy a degree from a dubious university after completing just two days study. He returned home and was eventually appointed professor of botany at Uppsala University.

Linneaus today would possibly be thought of as autistic. He had a rare gift for rote learning names and lists of plants, while preferring his own company yet lacked outward empathy for his disciples on their perilous trips (autistic people often experience empathy in a different way).

Linnaeus’s classification system was refined over ten editions of his work Systema Naturae (1735-1778), in which he named over 4,236 animals and 7,700 species of plants. Still, his classification of plants by their sexual organs was cumbersome to use in the field, so didn’t take off amongst his peers. Today this system falls apart when analysed using DNA comparisons between species.

Linnaeus only ever did one field trip to collect specimens, to Lapland in northern Sweden. A famous painting shows him sporting Laplander clothing with a conical hat. When he bought it he was unaware that this hat was locally only worn by women.

He boasted that he scaled Mount Caitumbyn (a name no longer listed on maps of the Lapland area), exaggerating its height and the dangers of the trip. However, he couldn’t have done this as it would have involved a 1,400 km detour from his itinerary. He was openly corrupt at times, taking fees to write his own students’ essays. His vanity was evident through his (anonymous) glowing reviews of his own works.

Despite these faults, the scientific work Linnaeus achieved has formed the fundamental framework for all modern taxonomy – the science of the classification of life. He did get something right, even though his many parts of his published works were deeply flawed.

Buffon’s brilliance

Georges-Louis LeClerc, later the Compte de Buffon, was born into a wealthy middle class family. He was an average student who eventually obtained a law degree, despite his wild times at university, where he engaged in deadly duels. In his twenties he built a three-storey mansion in the town of Montebard in Dijon and developed an immense garden. His interest in botany grew as he began experiments on trees.

Soon he adopted a rigorous daily routine, waking up at 5am every day, dressing, then walking at first light to work. He worked all day with brief pauses for meals and a short nap, wrapping up at 7pm. Skipping dinner, he fasted every night. He kept to this same schedule for 50 years.

Buffon idolised Isaac Newton and learned his calculus. He solved an ancient mystery about a weapon invented by Archimedes, which used giant mirrors to intensify the sun’s rays and set fire to the Roman fleet in 212 BCE.

Buffon build a replica to show the French military how this tactic had worked. He also solved complex mathematical equations and wrote papers on probability and statistics.

His real passion though was natural history. Buffon became motivated to explore the structure of animals and plants to determine the relationships between species. His biological work starts in earnest at volume four of his 35-volume set Histoire Naturelle, Générale et Particulière by examining three farm animals in mundane detail to define what it means to be a horse, donkey or bull.

Buffon expressed clear ideas about evolution 100 years before Charles Darwin. All of the components of Darwin’s theory – the how, where and why of natural selection and how species change – are there in Buffon’s works. This was recognised by Darwin in his revised fourth edition of Origin of the Species (1866) when he admitted in an addendum that Buffon “was the first author who, in modern times, has treated [the origin of species] in a scientific spirit”.

Buffon’s method of exploring the deep science of a topic was artfully delivered by his skilful prose. While other scholars (like Linnaeus) published in Latin, Buffon wrote in the popular French so all could read his work. He was France’s best selling non-fiction author for his day, and honoured by admittance into the Académie Française, the nation’s highest literary honour.

Rivalry

The book outlines the rivalry between the two men, spurred on by their differing intellectual approaches to understanding natural history.

Buffon’s chief critique of Linnaeus’s system of classification was that it was entirely arbitrary, set up by a whim, not from research. Linnaeus’ response was to imply Buffon’s work was an experiment that lacked a practical path, implying it had no economic application to biology.

Ironically, when Linnaeus published his tenth edition of his book in 1758, he vindicated Buffon’s criticism by changing his system quite radically for no clear reason.

As the two men settled into their main projects we see genius emerges from the slow, often painful, creation of new knowledge applied to problem-solving.

Buffon’s written works not only deal with nature, but also “excoriate slavery”, support women’s sexual rights (arguing rightly that men used the concept of “virginity” to control women) and proclaim all humans are but one species of equal capability.

Linnaeus, on the other hand, was obsessed by one task – classifying all life. In the 18th century, it was believed there were around 4,000 species on Earth, as derived from a guess of how many animals and plants might fit on Noah’s Arc. Linnaeus eventually conceded there must be at least 40,000 species. Today, we have over one million species documented, with up to a trillion calculated to possibly exist.

While Linnaeus made lasting contributions to biology through these classifications, he stirred the hornet’s nest by seeing humans as four distinct species, each based on superficial differences and inferred personality traits. His approach reeked of white supremacy. Roberts rightly points out it formed the basis for all systemic racism from then on.

Lasting legacies

Roberts is a “more or less” self-taught writer. He honed his skills writing massive technical manuals for computer programming, some more than 600 pages long. This book follows his earlier A Sense of the World: How a Blind Man became History’s Greatest Traveler, about the travels of blind Englishman James Holman (2006).

There are a few small technical errors in this otherwise masterful work. A delightful chapter about the platypus tells us it generates an electric field, whereas it actually has sensitive electrosensory cells to detect the electric fields of its prey.

A section about Darwin’s work mentions British biologist Alfred Russel Wallace had ideas along “similar lines”, but it would have helped to mention Darwin and Wallace first published their preliminary ideas on evolution in a joint paper in June, 1858, a year before Darwin’s On the Origin of Species was published.

Still, overall, the research presented in this book is very tight.

It shows Buffon’s cross-disciplinary use of science, maths, physics and chemistry in his analyses of living things positioned him way ahead of his time. He savoured the study of natural history, whereas Linneaus gobbled it up in greedy mouthfuls.

Both left lasting legacies. Aside from their voluminous written works, still widely cited today, their many disciples carried on and further developed their works after their deaths. These include many famous names (French biologist Jean-Baptiste Lamarck, and zoologist Georges Cuvier, British biologist Thomas Huxley) who are discussed in the last chapters.

The remaining parts of Linnaeus’s biological collections are housed in London in the rooms of The Linnean Society, a lasting tribute to the founder of modern taxonomy. He is buried at Uppsala cathedral.

Buffon is remembered not just through his books, but also by a magnificent marble statue commissioned by King Louis XVI, now in the grand gallery of evolution in Paris’s natural history museum.

It is inscribed with these words: “All nature bows to his genius”. Buffon’s preserved heart sits in the pedestal below this statue.

John Long, Strategic Professor in Palaeontology, Flinders University

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

The Australian Competition & Consumer Commission (ACCC) has fined Bupa A$35 million for unlawfully rejecting thousands of health insurance claims over more than five years.

Between May 2018 and August 2023 Bupa incorrectly rejected claims from patients who had multiple medical procedures, with at least one of those procedures covered under their health insurance policy.

Instead of paying the portion of the treatment that was covered, Bupa’s automated systems wrongly rejected the entire claim.

Bupa admitted these errors were due to system problems and poor staff guidance, and has started to recompensate members.

So you may be worried whether your private health insurance will cover you for the procedures you need.

Here’s what you need to know about the different types of hospital cover. And if your claim is rejected, what to do next.

From basic to gold

As of March 2025, 45.3% of Australians have private health insurance for hospital cover. There are four tiers: basic, bronze, silver and gold.

Each tier has a minimum set of “clinical categories”. These are groups of hospital treatments that must be covered.

For example, basic hospital cover only has three mandatory inclusions: rehabilitation, hospital psychiatric services and palliative care. But this is “restricted” cover, meaning patients will often still have to pay substantial out-of-pocket costs for these services.

Basic cover is entry-level cover, mainly for people who want to avoid the Lifetime Health Cover loading and the Medicare Levy Surcharge. These are both ways of encouraging people to take up private health insurance while young and keeping it, especially people on higher incomes.

At the other end of the scale is gold cover, which includes unrestricted cover for all defined clinical categories, including pregnancy and birth.

You can generally change your level of cover at any time. When you upgrade to include new services or increase benefits for existing services, you will need to serve new waiting periods for those new or increased benefits.

A common waiting period is 12 months for pre-existing conditions (any ailment, illness or condition that you had signs or symptoms of during the six months before upgrading, even if undiagnosed), and for pregnancy and birth-related services. But there is generally only a two-month waiting period for psychiatric care, rehabilitation or palliative care, even if it’s for a pre-existing condition.

It’s a good idea to review your policy every two years because your health needs and financial circumstances can change.

How much do companies pay out?

The proportion of premiums that are paid out to cover medical claims is known as the “average payout ratio”. And this has been about 84–86% over most of the past 20 years.

This does not mean your health insurer will pay out 84–86% of your individual claim. This national average accounts for the percentage of all premiums in any one year, across all insurers, that’s paid out in claims.

The payout ratios vary by insurer and are slightly higher for not-for-profit health insurers than for-profit insurers.

That’s because for-profit health insurers have pressure to deliver profits to shareholders and have incentives to minimise payouts and control costs.

If not properly managed, these incentives may result in higher out-of-pocket expenses and denied claims.

Why has my claim been rejected?

Common reasons for claims to be rejected include:

• the policy excluded or restricted the clinical category

• the waiting period was not served

• incorrect information (for example, a doctor billed an incorrect item number)

• what’s known as “mixed coverage” (as in the Bupa scandal), where not everything in a claim is covered, but the entire claim is declined.

What if I think there’s an error?

If your health insurance company refuses your claim, you can request a detailed explanation in writing.

If you believe your claim has been incorrectly denied, you can make a formal complaint directly with the insurer. For this you need to check your policy documents, and gather supporting evidence. This may include detailed invoices, medical reports, referral letters and correct item numbers.

If you are not satisfied with the outcome of the health fund’s internal review, or the fund doesn’t respond with the specific time-frame (for instance, 30–45 days), you can escalate your complaint.

You can get in touch with the Commonwealth Ombudsman (phone: 1300 362 072). This provides a free, independent complaint handling service for a range of consumer issues, including health insurance.

Bupa customers concerned about a “mixed coverage” claim can contact the company directly.

What can governments do?

The Bupa scandal, along with ongoing concerns about transparency and rising out-of-pocket costs, highlights the need for policy reforms to better protect consumers.

The government should require health insurers and health-care providers to give clear estimates of all potential out-of-pocket costs for a procedure before it happens. This would avoid unexpected bills and help consumers make informed decisions about their health care.

The government could also let the ACCC or the Australian Prudential Regulation Authority conduct regular, independent audits of insurers’ claims systems and practices.

Yuting Zhang, Professor of Health Economics, The University of Melbourne

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

Are you escaping a southern hemisphere winter by heading off for a “Euro summer”? Maybe you’re planning a cruise through the Mediterranean. Or you’re dreaming of a white Christmas overseas later in the year.

Maybe you’ve already booked your flights and accommodation, locked in your itinerary, and started planning what to pack.

But there may be one more thing to add to your pre-travel checklist – a flu shot.

For some travellers, this may mean a second flu shot this year – one for Australia’s flu season and another to protect them in the northern hemisphere.

Why do I need another flu shot?

Protection from a flu shot doesn’t last all year; it decreases after three to four months.

So if you had your flu shot in April or May, it may no longer offer enough protection by the time you travel in July or later.

Getting a second shot will provide you with optimal protection against the flu while travelling to the northern hemisphere.

That’s why it is now recommended Australians travelling to the northern hemisphere between October and May consider a second flu shot if they’ve already had one earlier this year.

If it’s been three to four months since your first shot, you can consider a second shot.

A second shot should be at least four weeks after the first shot. Ideally, get your second shot at least two weeks before your departure, so your body has time to build up protection.

If you haven’t had a flu shot at all this year, now’s the time. In the year to July 7, there have been more than 167,000 confirmed cases of the flu in Australia.

Who should consider a second flu shot?

Here are some examples where a second flu shot is worth discussing with your doctor or pharmacist.

Cruises are a prime setting for flu outbreaks. There are hundreds or thousands of people sharing confined spaces, such as restaurants and entertainment facilities, for days or weeks at a time. This creates the perfect environment for the flu virus to spread.

Group tours and large events are also high risk. Bus tours, music festivals and cultural events bring together large crowds, often in indoor spaces or via shared transport. This increases your chance of exposure and catching the virus.

Pilgrimages and religious gatherings such as Hajj, Lunar New Year or Ramadan are also high risk, especially for older travellers or those with health conditions. These events can attract millions of international visitors, often in crowded, shared accommodation, where flu and other respiratory viruses can spread rapidly.

People who are over 65 years of age, have medical conditions, such as severe asthma or diabetes, or are on medications that decrease their immune function, are more likely to become severely ill if they catch the flu. So, if you’re travelling during the northern hemisphere’s flu season, a second shot should be strongly considered.

Which flu shot should I get?

Each year, health authorities around the world develop two different flu shots, one for each hemisphere’s flu season. The flu shots can differ, as flu strains change rapidly and different strains may circulate in different regions.

Australians receive the southern hemisphere version around March to May. And while it’s ideal to have the northern hemisphere flu shot before heading overseas, it’s not available in Australia.

Instead, you can have two shots of the southern hemisphere flu shot – one earlier in the year and a second shot before your trip.

You could wait until you are overseas to get your second shot. But you wouldn’t be protected for two weeks afterwards, and you’d need to navigate an overseas health system while on holiday.

Where can I get a flu shot? How much does it cost?

You can get a flu shot at your local pharmacy, GP clinic, or sometimes via your workplace. Many pharmacies offer walk-in appointments, and the flu shot usually costs around A$25 (including the price of the vaccine and administering it).

If your GP doesn’t bulk bill, you will be charged an out-of-pocket cost for the consultation, and may need to pay the cost of the shot if you don’t qualify for a free one.

The (first) flu shot is free for people who meet certain criteria, such as being 65 and over, pregnant, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people and those with certain medical conditions. But you would have to pay for a second shot if you’re travelling.

Specific flu shots are recommended for each person. So speak to your pharmacist or GP to discuss the best option for you.

Your GP or pharmacist will also discuss what to expect after your flu shot. This may include tiredness, fever, muscle aches, and redness or swelling at the injection site. These usually go away within two days. For most people, these symptoms are mild and well-tolerated.

Why bother?

The flu is more than just a sniffle. It can lead to serious illness, cancelled plans and perhaps a hospital stay in a foreign country. Even if you don’t get sick, you could pass the virus to others more vulnerable than yourself.

So before you finish your pre-travel checklist, make sure your flu shots are up to date.

Not getting the shot could be the difference between sipping Aperol spritz on the Amalfi Coast or spending your trip in bed with a fever.

Jack Janetzki, Lecturer in Pharmacy and Pharmacology, University of South Australia and Wern Chai, Lecturer in Pharmacy and Pharmacology, University of South Australia

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

It was late January when I got the call. I’m asked to bring my sound art to a collaborative ecology and design project, Song of the Cricket, for the Venice Biennale of Architecture. When such as invitation arrives, you have no choice but to jump in.

I see an image of the site for the project: the Gaggiandre at the Arsenale – a medieval shipyard that serviced the Venetian military at its imperial peak.

Once a resplendent hive of industry, it is even detailed by Dante Alighieri in The Divine Comedy:

As in the arsenal of the Venetians,
all winter long a stew of sticky pitch
boils up to patch their sick and tattered ships
that cannot sail (instead of voyaging,
some build new keels, some tow and tar the ribs
of hulls worn out by too much journeying;
some hammer at the prow, some at the stern,
and some make oars, and some braid ropes and cords;
one mends the jib, another, the mainsail)

The Gaggiandre is a cavernous, church-like space flanked by stone colonnades, wooden roof beams, and situated, in true Venetian style, on a bed of water. With long reverberation times, music in this space would need to be slowly unfolding, drawing the listener in and inviting them to meditate.

It is a place of reflection, both metaphorically and physically. To a sound artist, creating for the Gaggiandre is a dream.

Art and the Anthropocene

The Song of the Cricket exhibit has been on display at the Biennale since May. Its purpose is to bridge ecological research with sound art to raise awareness for our fragile biodiversity, with a focus on the critically endangered Adriatic bush-cricket, Zeuneriana marmorata.

What better place than Venice – a city slowly sinking – to reflect on where we stand in this moment of environmental collapse?

The exhibit was created by a large team of collaborators. It features several mobile habitats populated with Zeuneriana. Some of these habitats sit on the Arsenale lawn, while other symbolic habitats float on the water as life rafts. Alongside the enclosures, my pre-composed “sound garden” plays through speakers onto the lawn.

At the end of the Biennale, the team, led by landscape architect and ecologist Alex Felson, intends to use the life rafts to ceremonially transport incubated eggs to a new home on the mainland.

Sounds of nature and Vivaldi

On the lawn, the chirrup of live courting bush-crickets blends with pre-recorded sounds of their ancestors. These ancestral sounds might double as a lullaby for newly orphaned eggs, as adults only live a few months.

The accompanying sound garden is richly diverse, created from an array of fauna sounds drawn from Northern Italian wetland environments, including the Eurasian reed warbler, the cuckoo and, my personal favourite, the green toad.

My intention is for the soundscape to transport audiences to a different time and place: to a future where these species thrive in a healthy ecology.

There is a second element to the sound installation, created with support from sound technologist Monica Lim. Informed by the music of Antonio Vivaldi, this element serves to further activate the untapped airspace and enhance visitors’ experience of the site.

Born in Venice in 1678, Vivaldi is a ubiquitous and avoidable cliché for locals. Yet his music was the perfect inspiration for this project, as it encodes a hidden ecological story.

Vivaldi incorporated the literal sounds of nature into The Four Seasons (1723), with particular species’ songs annotated onto the score.

The Song of the Cricket borrows elements from Vivaldi’s Summer: Allegro non Molto. In the short section I drew from, the cuckoo, turtledove and goldfinch are all musically described and credited by Vivaldi.

And although they are not expressly mentioned, I imagine bush-crickets also pervade Vivaldi’s Summer movement, as we know they were once prolific in the Venice lagoon, and would have filled the summer air during his lifetime. You might hear them in the rapidly repeating (tremolo) string gestures.

The cricket’s song serves as a indicator of an ecosystem’s health. But the sound of crickets in Venice today is largely missing.

Our take on Vivaldi is slowed down 30 times, magnified and fragmented, voiced through synthesizers, and piped into the Gaggiandre through five speakers – creating an immersive experience that feels at once futuristic and Baroque.

Bridging the past and an imagined future

The decision to borrow from music of the Western historical canon (in this case Vivaldi) fits into a burgeoning movement that composer Valentin Silvestrov coined “eschatophony”.

This is presumably a portmanteau of “eschatology”, the study of the end of the world, and “phony”, which in this case relates to sound (such as symphony). Here, we are left only to wrestle with and re-contextualise our musical past, to create “echoes of history”.

The inclusion of sound is still a novelty at the architecture Biennale. Of the 300 exhibits this year, I can count on one hand the projects that incorporated sound. All of them were special.

Sound creates a remarkable theatre, both through its immediacy, as well as its capacity to elevate a project beyond the prosaic, into the poetic.

Venice is a city where history pervades at every turn. The Song of the Cricket invites listeners in, offering them space to reflect, and to imagine a future where ecosystems might once again thrive.

This article is part of Making Art Work, our series on what inspires artists and the process of their work.

Miriama Young, Associate Professor Music Composition, Melbourne Conservatorium of Music, The University of Melbourne

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

Given the number of times this has happened already, it should come as little surprise that we’re now faced with yet another new subvariant of SARS-CoV-2, the virus responsible for COVID.

This new subvariant is known as XFG (nicknamed “Stratus”) and the World Health Organization (WHO) designated it a “variant under monitoring” in late June. XFG is a subvariant of Omicron, of which there are now more than 1,000.

A “variant under monitoring” signifies a variant or subvariant which needs prioritised attention and monitoring due to characteristics that may pose an additional threat compared to other circulating variants.

XFG was one of seven variants under monitoring as of June 25. The most recent addition before XFG was NB.1.8.1 (nicknamed “Nimbus”), which the WHO declared a variant under monitoring on May 23.

Both nimbus and stratus are types of clouds.

Nimbus is currently the dominant subvariant worldwide – but Stratus is edging closer. So what do you need to know about Stratus, or XFG?

A recombinant variant

XFG is a recombinant of LF.7 and LP.8.1.2 which means these two subvariants have shared genetic material to come up with the new subvariant. Recombinants are designated with an X at the start of their name.

While recombination and other spontaneous changes happen often with SARS-CoV-2, it becomes a problem when it creates a subvariant that is changed in such a way that its properties cause more problems for us.

Most commonly this means the virus looks different enough that protection from past infection (and vaccination) doesn’t work so well, called immune evasion. This basically means the population becomes more susceptible and can lead to an increase in cases, and even a whole new wave of COVID infections across the world.

XFG has four key mutations in the spike protein, a protein on the surface of SARS-CoV-2 which allows it to attach to our cells. Some are believed to enhance evasion by certain antibodies.

Early laboratory studies have suggested a nearly two-fold reduction in how well antibodies block the virus compared to LP.8.1.1.

Where is XFG spreading?

The earliest XFG sample was collected on January 27.

As of June 22, there were 1,648 XFG sequences submitted to GISAID from 38 countries (GISAID is the global database used to track the prevalence of different variants around the world). This represents 22.7% of the globally available sequences at the time.

This was a significant rise from 7.4% four weeks prior and only just below the proportion of NB.1.8.1 at 24.9%. Given the now declining proportion of viral sequences of NB.1.8.1 overall, and the rapid rise of XFG, it would seem reasonable to expect XFG to become dominant very soon.

According to Australian data expert Mike Honey, the countries showing the highest rates of detection of XFG as of mid-June include India at more than 50%, followed by Spain at 42%, and the United Kingdom and United States, where the subvariant makes up more than 30% of cases.

In Australia as of June 29, NB.1.8.1 was the dominant subvariant, accounting for 48.6% of sequences. In the most recent report from Australia’s national genomic surveillance platform, there were 24 XFG sequences with 12 collected in the last 28 days meaning it currently comprises approximately 5% of sequences.

The big questions

When we talk about a new subvariant, people often ask questions including if it’s more severe or causes new or different symptoms compared to previous variants. But we’re still learning about XFG and we can’t answer these questions with certainty yet.

Some sources have reported XFG may be more likely to cause “hoarseness” or a scratchy or raspy voice. But we need more information to know if this association is truly significant.

Notably, there’s no evidence to suggest XFG causes more severe illness compared to other variants in circulation or that it is necessarily any more transmissible.

Will vaccines still work against XFG?

Relatively frequent changes to the virus means we have continued to update the COVID vaccines. The most recent update, which targets the JN.1 subvariant, became available in Australia from late 2024. XFG is a descendant of the JN.1 subvariant.

Fortunately, based on the evidence available so far, currently approved COVID vaccines are expected to remain effective against XFG, particularly against symptomatic and severe disease.

Because of SARS-CoV-2’s continued evolution, the effect of this on our immune response, as well as the fact protection from COVID vaccines declines over time, COVID vaccines are offered regularly, and recommended for those at the highest risk.

One of the major challenges we face at present in Australia is low COVID vaccine uptake. While rates have increased somewhat recently, they remain relatively low, with only 32.3% of people aged 75 years and over having received a vaccine in the past six months. Vaccination rates in younger age groups are significantly lower.

Although the situation with XFG must continue to be monitored, at present the WHO has assessed the global risk posed by this subvariant as low. The advice for combating COVID remains unchanged, including vaccination as recommended and the early administration of antivirals for those who are eligible.

Measures to reduce the risk of transmission, particularly wearing masks in crowded indoor settings and focusing on air quality and ventilation, are worth remembering to protect against COVID and other viral infections.

Paul Griffin, Professor, Infectious Diseases and Microbiology, The University of Queensland

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

Attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) diagnoses are rising across Australia.

But after finally getting a diagnosis, many people are discovering the medicine they’ve been prescribed isn’t available at the pharmacy.

Australia faces a nation-wide shortage of methylphenidate (sold as Concerta and Ritalin).

What does it mean for people with ADHD?

ADHD medication shortages have persisted since 2023, with shortages of lisdexamfetamine (Vyvanse), and are now affecting more people.

Many people with ADHD have to call multiple pharmacies to find their medication. They might be put on waiting lists to access their prescribed medications, or have to contact their doctor or their child’s doctor to get a new script for a different medication.

Some people with ADHD are switching between strengths or changing to different medicines. This can mean starting again with slow dose changes, and can result in poor symptom control and more side effects.

Some people have had to skip doses or go without medicine altogether, making it hard to concentrate, stay organised and manage emotions.

Shortages can also increase inequality. People in rural areas with fewer pharmacies, for example, have more difficulty accessing these medications.

And people with fewer financial resources are less able to access alternative medications that aren’t subsidised.

Increasing access to diagnosis and treatment

Around 8% of children and 2.5% of adults in Australia have ADHD. It makes it hard to focus, sit still, and/or control impulses. For many, medication helps manage these symptoms.

Diagnosis has often involved seeing a specialist such as psychiatrist or paediatrician.

But from September, GPs in New South Wales will be able to continue ADHD prescriptions without needing specialist approval. In 2026, GPs in South Australia and Western Australia will be able to diagnose ADHD and start treatment.

However, ongoing shortages may still stop people from getting the medicine they need.

Why are these medicines running out?

These shortages are largely due to manufacturing issues – including problems sourcing raw ingredients and production quotas in the United States.

When one brand runs out, it puts pressure on other brands. This creates a domino effect across the supply chain.

There is also increasing demand.

In 2022-2023 almost 470,000 Australians were prescribed ADHD medications. That’s four times the number from nine years earlier.

From January 2024 to May 2025, the number of prescriptions filled increased further, by 60% for dexamfetamine, 88% for methylphenidate and 140% for lisdexamfetamine.

Shortages of several strengths and brands of menthylphenidate (Concerta and Ritalin) and are expected to continue into late 2025. Both the long-acting and short-acting types are affected.

Pharmacies can’t always help

Stimulants to treat ADHD are tightly controlled. Pharmacies can only supply one-month of medicine at a time.

In some states such as NSW, paper prescriptions for tightly controlled medicines must be filled at the same pharmacy each time. So patients have not been able to get their medicine elsewhere even if it’s in stock.

In response to the methylphenidate shortages, NSW Health has allowed pharmacies to transfer paper prescriptions to other pharmacists that have stock available. This change is temporary but helpful.

This rule is different in other states such as Victoria and South Australia, where people are able to visit or call other pharmacies to see if they have stock.

However, ideally a patient will be able to build a rapport with one main pharmacy – and the pharmacy will know exactly how many regular patients they need to get stock for.

What are regulators doing about it?

The national medicines regulator, the Therapeutic Goods Administration (TGA) has set up a group called the Medicine Shortage Action Groups to respond to the methylphenidate shortage.

This group includes members from health professional groups and peak bodies. It will give advice to health professionals and are creating resources for patients, families and schools about the shortages and how to reduce disruptions to their or their child’s treatment.

The TGA has also recently approved the temporary use of some methylphenidate brands from overseas.

Some of these are now listed on the Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme, which means they are available at a subsidised price.

The body representing physicians, the Royal Australasian College of Physicians, has called for early warnings about shortages. That way, doctors can help patients change to alternatives before it’s too late.

What can you do if you can’t get a script filled?

If you’re finding it hard to get your ADHD medicine:

• talk to your pharmacist. They may be able to order an overseas-registered alternative or suggest a different brand

• speak with your GP, psychiatrist or your child’s paediatrician. They might adjust your or your child’s dose or suggest a different medication for their ADHD. This might mean changing to another stimulant that is available in a short- or long-acting formulation or by changing to a medicine for ADHD that is not a stimulant. Ask your physician to contact the pharmacy to see what they have in stock while you’re at your appointment

• check the TGA’s Medicine Shortage Reports Database for updates on when the medicine might become available.

If you’re calling around to find stock:

• call mid-morning to see if they’ve got stock. Pharmacies are generally less busy after the morning rush

• say exactly what medicine, strength and brand you are looking for. If you don’t mind which brand be sure to tell the pharmacist

• keep a list of pharmacies so you don’t double up

• if you live in a rural area and find that a pharmacy in a nearby town has stock, ask if they can courier the medication to you.

Jack Janetzki, Lecturer in Pharmacy and Pharmacology, University of South Australia and Lisa Kalisch Ellett, Research Fellow, Quality Use of Medicines and Pharmacy Research Centre, University of South Australia

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

Prime Minister Anthony Albanese may be rueing what seemed a good idea at the time – the appointment of a special envoy to combat antisemitism (as well as an envoy to combat Islamophobia).

Or perhaps Jillian Segal, a former president of the Executive Council of Australian Jewry, was the wrong choice for the position, despite her extensive legal, business and organisational background.

Her plan to Combat Antisemitism, released on Thursday, has stirred controversy. Now Segal has had to distance herself from a $50,000 donation from a trust controlled by her husband, John Roth, and his brother, made to the right-wing group Advance.

“No one would tolerate or accept my husband dictating my politics, and I certainly won’t dictate his. I have had no involvement in his donations, nor will I,” Segal said, after embarrassing revelations about the money.

When Segal presented her strategy last week, it was applauded by many in the Jewish community. But critics find it disappointing. It is simultaneously too thin – even accepting it is a plan rather than a fully fledged report – and overblown in its recommendations.

The wave of antisemitism we’ve seen in Australia since October 2023 has been both shocking and appalling. Many politicians and institutions, including some universities, have handled the situation badly. Documenting in some detail what happened is important as part of any blueprint for the future.

So it is surprising the Segal report does not provide more of a record. It would have been useful to have a list of the major attacks, rates of apprehension, prosecution and conviction, and what’s known about perpetrators and motivations (including criminals using antisemitism to get leverage for personal advantage).

On strategy, by contrast, the envoy’s report goes for broke. Among her most controversial recommendations are removing funding from universities and cultural institutions that fail to deal effectively with antisemitism. (Segal has since stressed this is a last resort.)

Segal proposes to prepare a scorecard assessing universities’ performances. She says if systematic problems remain by the start of next year, the federal government should appoint a judicial inquiry into campus antisemitism.

There is no prospect of the government adopting the tougher proposals among the Segal recommendations. Albanese and Home Affairs Minister Tony Burke were at the plan’s launch (it would have looked bad for them not to be). But it was notable Albanese made no commitment on adopting the recommendations.

Burke told the ABC on Monday night “I think the objective here is not to be stripping funding [from universities], it’s not to be cancelling people, the objective is actually to never fall foul of the need to make sure that we’re combatting antisemitism”.

On university defunding, Segal’s plan is simply impractical. What exactly would be the benchmarks of failure? How much funding would be withheld?

With more egregious issues – such as encampments on campuses – having been dealt with, navigating around the issues of free speech would be tricky at best.

The challenges of arts funding would be even more problematic, given the licence in artistic expression.

One problem with Segal’s report is that she inserts herself too personally into what she believes should be done. For instance, she says in her foreword, “The pages that follow outline how the Envoy will address antisemitism across education, law, digital spaces and community life”. And later, “The Envoy will work with government to enable government funding to be withheld [from errant universities and academics]”.

Under Segal’s plan, she will monitor media organisations (which means the ABC and SBS), “to encourage accurate, fair, responsible reporting and assist them to meet their editorial standards and commitments to impartiality and balance and to avoid accepting false or distorted narratives”.

At first glance, that might sound reasonable. But it could risk descending into harassment. The Lattouf affair was an example of the ABC giving in to lobbying from pro-Israel complainants and ending up losing an unfair dismissal case.

When pressed about what criticisms she had of the ABC, Segal initially said she didn’t have anything in particular in mind. Later, she produced an example. She didn’t sound well-prepared.

Some “narratives” are black and white; others are grey, and the greys can come in many shades. People of goodwill, within the media and outside, will have a range of views on Middle East issues. Balance and impartiality will involve judgements, let alone the difficulties of being sure about accuracy.

Segal’s report refers to the fact that, according to research she commissioned, younger people – those under 35 – have different perceptions on the Middle East and the Jewish community than older people.

Segal emphasises the importance of educational effort in combating antisemitism, which comes down to issues of teaching history and promoting tolerance. Again, there are areas of absolute clarity (the details and evils of the Holocaust and the broader history of antisemitism) and contested areas (various issues in and about the Middle East).

Segal’s call for the wider adoption of the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance definition of antisemitism has brought some blowback.

This defines antisemitism as “a certain perception of Jews, which may be expressed as hatred toward Jews”, including through words or physical actions. This definition is controversial because examples that accompany it include “claiming that the existence of a State of Israel is a racist endeavour”.

The government has reconfirmed its adoption of this definition, so the controversy over it arising from the Segal plan has become something of a diversion from more practical issues.

To sum up, the central flaw of the Segal document is that it lacks nuance. Some of its recommendations go beyond what is feasible or desirable. Treasurer Jim Chalmers, fielding a question on Monday about the Advance donation, described the plan as presenting “suggestions, ideas and proposals”.

Burke, reiterating the position of Albanese, said on Monday night there was “a whole lot [of the plan] where you hope that you can find pathways to avoid antisemitism where some of the recommendations never need to be considered”.

One risk is that the plan’s overreach could be counterproductive – it could trigger a counter-reaction from other groups that inhibits proper recognition of the extent of the problem of antisemitism. Its weaknesses make the plan a missed opportunity.

Michelle Grattan, Professorial Fellow, University of Canberra

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

The antisemitism strategy presented to the Albanese government has attracted considerable – and wholly justifed – criticism.

Produced by Jillian Segal, the special envoy to combat antisemitism, the blueprint falls short in a range of areas essential to good public policy. This is due to its biased arguments, weak evidence and recommendation overreach.

There is also the adoption of a contentious definition of antisemitism which has been criticised for conflating disapproval of Israel with anti-Jewish prejudice.

Alternative definition

The strategy uses the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s definition of antisemitism, manifestations of which could include criticising the state of Israel.

However, this definition is contentious – so much so that its original author, Kenneth Stern, has rejected it as a tool for regulating antisemitism due its potential to be weaponised to silence free speech.

Other widely used definitions are unacknowledged in the report. These include the Jerusalem Declaration, which attempts to strike a better balance between antisemitism and freedom of speech, including criticism of Israel and Zionism.

As the declaration notes:

hostility to Israel could be an expression of an antisemitic animus, or it could be a reaction to a human rights violation, or it could be the emotion that a Palestinian person feels on account of their experience at the hands of the state.

Biased Argument

The report presents a clear and consistent argument: antisemitism has been on the rise in Australia, especially since the Hamas attacks in October 2023. It is particularly obvious in universities and cultural institutions.

Antisemitism is an insidious form of prejudice and hatred which is destructive not only to the Jewish community, but to the very fabric of Australian society. It requires a community-wide response to stamp it out.

The report is underpinned by Segal’s principled aspiration to ensure “all Australians, including Jewish Australians, can live with dignity, fairness, safety and mutual respect”.

But there are multiple problems with how this argument is presented.

First, it is sweeping in its application. A good example is the claim antisemitism “has become ingrained and normalised within academia and the cultural space”.

No explanation is given to what these terms mean, or what these practices entail. Without such qualifiers, readers could easily be misguided in thinking the problem is more pronounced than it actually is.

Weak evidence

The report provides alarming statistics about the rise in reported cases of antisemitism in Australia, including a claimed 316% spike in the 12 months to October 2024.

It pays particular attention to antisemitism in the university sector, quoting a survey by the Australasian Union of Jewish Students, which noted more than 60% of Jewish students who experienced antisemitism felt unsupported by their institutions.

No doubt there has been a surge in antisemitic hatred, but there are significant problems with how evidence for it is presented in the report. Segal fails to produce a single citation, which makes it impossible to access the data and assess its veracity.

Baseline figures, details about who collated the data, the investigation of incidents and their resolution, are all missing.

The report also misquotes an important source.

It states “in February 2025, ASIO Director General Mike Burgess declared antisemitism is Australia’s leading threat to life”.

In fact, what Burgess actually said was:

In terms of threats to life, it’s my agency’s number one priority because of the weight of incidents we’re seeing play out in this country.

There are subtle yet important differences in these two statements, which need to be carefully parsed when dealing with such a serious issue.

Gaza ignored

Also problematic is the singular focus on extremist ideologies as the reason for the rise in antisemitism.

In doing so, the strategy omits a compelling fact: the recent upsurge is likely linked to Israel’s war on Gaza which has resulted in mass Palestinian civilian casualties over the past 20 months.

As international law expert Ben Saul argues:

People did not just inexplicably and without context decide to become more antisemitic in that period. [It was fuelled by] fury at Israel’s profound violations of international law in Gaza.

Furthermore, while Segal claims to be focused on mutual respect, she fails to acknowledge other groups that face similar forms of racism and discrimination, including Australia’s Indigenous peoples and Islamic communities.

In doing so, the report appears to be seeking special treatment for the Australian Jewish community.

Recommendation overreach

Much of the negative reaction to the report has rightly been focused on its far-reaching punitive recommendations, which have been described as Trumpian.

Many are directed towards the education sector, including threatened cuts to school and university funding, and extending the capacity to terminate staff who engage in “antisemitic” behaviours.

Segal envisages creating a “university report card” to adjudicate on universities that are failing the standard, presumably set against her preferred antisemitism definition.

The media and the cultural sector more broadly are also in Segal’s headlights, with recommendations to establish herself as a media monitor to ensure “fair and balanced reporting”. Charitable institutions deemed to be supporting antisemitism would lose their tax-deduction status.

These highly controversial measures are an overreach of the envoy’s terms of reference.

Segal’s mandate specifies her role is as an advisor to government, not a regulator. By taking such a drastic approach, the antisemitism strategy risks stoking further social division.

The government, which is considering the recommendations, must proceed very cautiously.

Louise Chappell, Scientia Professor, UNSW Sydney

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

Authorities in the ACT have released draft regulations for the welfare of dogs. One inclusion getting attention is a guideline “requiring all dogs to have a minimum of three hours of human contact daily”.

The purpose of this code is to help dog owners meet their obligations under existing animal welfare laws in the ACT, which see dogs as sentient animals. This recognises that dogs can experience pleasure and pain, and that these feelings matter.

If we accept dogs are sentient then we must think about their welfare and how to provide for them the best life possible. So, will three hours of human contact guarantee a good life?

Three hours across a 24-hour period is probably achievable for many people, once you factor in walks, pats, feeding time and some attention at home.

But just mandating a certain number of hours isn’t the answer, in my view.

What matters most is what you do when you’re with your dog to meet their specific emotional and physical needs – and how long you’re leaving them alone.

Human contact is a good thing for dogs

Countries around the world are taking more notice of the needs of dogs.

In Germany, the law requires owners to walk their dogs twice a day for at least an hour each time.

Swedish rules require that “dogs must have their need for social contact satisfied”.

Dogs are descended from the grey wolf – an animal which would certainly not integrate easily into a human group.

But over thousands of years, humans have selectively bred dogs so they want, and even depend on, human contact.

We’ve genetically selected dogs to want to be with us, and unfortunately this has led to many not coping well when they’re alone.

The ACT’s new draft code recognises this, noting that “dogs are social animals and must not be kept alone for long periods of time”.

An estimated 14–29% of dogs have problems related to separation from their owners.

Signs of separation-related problems may include:

• barking
• escaping
• destructive digging
• destructive chewing.

Other problems for inactive dogs might include being overweight, feeling bored or even getting depressed.

Quality time matters most

It is likely the quality of time spent with our dogs is more important than the quantity.

Some dogs like lying on the sofa bingeing the latest series with you. Others might prefer long walks, or a strenuous game of fetch.

And dogs have different needs. A one-year-old dog might love going for a big walk, but a 12-year-old dog with arthritis may find that painful. Some dogs love chasing balls, and others would rather watch grass grow.

What’s more, the amount of time a dog can handle alone will depend on the animal. For some, only five minutes away from their human would be long enough to send them into total meltdown.

What’s important is what you do with your dog when you’re together, to meet their needs.

Complicating matters further, dog owners vary in how they want to spend time with their pet.

That’s why this guideline may struggle to find community acceptance. Good dog owners realise that what you do with your dog is most important, and needs to be tailored to the dog’s emotional needs, rather than just mandating a certain time goal.

That said, the draft code may prompt all dog owners (including not-so-conscientious ones) to consider whether they spend enough time with their dogs.

And it may prompt people considering buying a dog to think about whether they can commit three hours a day.

The regulation may also encourage people to think more about fun things to do with their dog, such as develop (or continue) a play routine. Creative play can help boost attachment between dog and human.

An easy bonus we can give our dogs is to be present with them.

If you can’t manage three hours, just aim for what you can and try to carve out special time with them (perhaps by reducing your screen time where possible).

The most important part is to see if you can observe what happens when they’re alone (you could set up a camera). Try to make changes and seek professional advice if you can see their welfare is at risk.

An important discussion

Effective rules also need to be enforceable.

It is highly unlikely sufficient resourcing would be available in the ACT to check the time all dog-owners spend with their dogs each day. How this would be calculated and recorded remains unclear.

But even if this three-hours-a-day guideline is dropped in the ACT’s final code, it’s prompted an important discussion and will overall improve the welfare of dogs.

Susan Hazel, Associate Professor, School of Animal and Veterinary Science, University of Adelaide

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

In the runup to each election, federal treasury produces a “blue book” and a “red book”, with advice tailored to the priorities of the two alternative governments.

One of these is given to the incoming government and the other is never released. Freedom of Information requests have generally resulted in only heavily redacted versions of the incoming government brief being made public.

But this week, the table of contents was accidentally released, revealing treasury’s view of how the government should be handling the economy.

Taxes “need to be raised”

Treasury suggests more tax should be raised. This is unsurprising – there is bipartisan support for more defence spending, and an ageing population means more spending on health and aged care, only partially offset by less spending on education.

The government is hoping to slow spending on the National Disability Insurance Scheme but it is still projected to grow much faster than government revenue.

No one wants to default on government debt. So higher bond yields and the deficits incurred during the COVID pandemic, and projected for the next decade, mean governments will be paying more interest.

There are few areas of government spending expected to contract. So the cruel arithmetic is unless we are happy to keep government debt – already close to a trillion dollars – growing indefinitely, taxes need to rise.

The challenge is to find the most efficient way to do so. We don’t know whether Treasury made specific suggestions.

As we will probably hear at next month’s Economic Reform Roundtable, most economists think we should be putting more tax on things we want to discourage (greenhouse gas emissions, consumption of unhealthy products) and less on things we want to encourage (working, saving).

We want more taxes that do not alter economic activity (such as on land and excess profits from minerals) and less that discourage useful economic activities (such as stamp duties, which discourage mobility). We also want less tax where activity is being driven into black markets (arguably the case with cigarettes).

There may be some areas where tax concessions are excessive. Superannuation tax concessions are subsidising some rich people to build much larger savings than are needed for a comfortable retirement. (A proposal from the government to trim these will be before the Senate when parliament resumes next week.)

Capital gains tax concessions, which mainly help the rich, are also hard to justify.

We also want to consider equity. Most people accept that a tax system should be progressive. This means the rich pay a higher proportion of income in taxes than do the poor. In our current tax system, income and land taxes are progressive but GST and some other excises are regressive. The overall system is roughly proportional.

Housing target “will not be met”

Treasury also warned the government that its pledge to build 1.2 million homes over five years will be very difficult to achieve. In the year to June 2024, just 176,000 homes were built.

Even the relevant ministers have described the target as “ambitious”. Treasurer Jim Chalmers said on Monday “we will need more effort”.

Many commentators have described how difficult it will be to achieve this target.

A shortage of construction workers, the impact of planning restrictions, and weak productivity are also concerns. A recent study by the Productivity Commission concluded:

over the past 30 years, the number of dwellings completed per hour worked by housing construction workers has declined by 53%.

Concerns about the US

Another unsurprising revelation in the briefing is Treasury is concerned about the economic consequences of Donald Trump as US president.

One threat comes from the ever-changing array of tariffs Trump is introducing. If other countries retaliate by raising their own tariffs, the adverse impact on the global economy will be even greater.

We can get some idea of the possible impact on Australia from modelling published by the Reserve Bank. In its Statement on Monetary Policy, the bank presented two alternative scenarios.

Under what it called the “trade war” scenario, global gross domestic product declines by more than it did during the 2007 global financial crisis. Australian unemployment increases to nearly 6%. Under the “trade peace” scenario, unemployment remains around its current 4% level.

Another concern held by Treasury was the possible loss of independence of the US Federal Reserve Board (or “Fed”), the counterpart to Australia’s Reserve Bank. Trump has vowed to replace Fed chair Jerome Powell with someone more compliant when Powell’s term ends next year.

Trump wants the Fed to slash short-term interest rates regardless of the economic circumstances. This would raise the risk of a surge in inflation. It could also lead to higher bond yields, which would flow into higher interest rates charged by banks on loans. This could plunge the US economy into recession, with impacts felt around the world.

John Hawkins, Head, Canberra School of Government, University of Canberra

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

Most Australians consume far too much sodium, mostly in the form of salt (sodium chloride) in the food they eat.

The National Health and Medical Research Council recommends no more than 2,000 milligrams of sodium a day, roughly one teaspoon of salt.

Yet the average Australian consumes nearly twice that.

In some regional and remote communities, salty drinking water is quietly adding to this problem – yet sodium levels in tap water are often overlooked.

Our new research reviewed 197 countries and shows when drinking water standards for sodium exist, they’re usually based on taste, not health.

Most follow guidance from the World Health Organization (WHO) which, in its global campaign to lower sodium intake, has focused on diet but largely ignored drinking water.

Salty water is an overlooked health risk

Excess sodium is a major risk factor for high blood pressure and cardiovascular diseases, such as heart attacks and stroke. These are leading causes of death and disability across the world.

In 2013, these health risks led the WHO to set a global target to reduce sodium intake by 30% by 2025. The WHO has since extended this to 2030, due to slow progress.

Public health efforts to reduce sodium (salt) have focused mainly on food, not drinking water. This is because most tap water contains low sodium levels (usually below 20mg per litre).

But some natural water sources contain excessively high sodium. In Australia, this mainly affects remote and rural communities.

Evidence suggests it’s a growing issue, compounded by climate change, rising sea levels, more frequent storms, prolonged droughts, and human activities, including over extraction of groundwater and agricultural runoff.

What does the WHO say about water?

The WHO’s recommended threshold for sodium in water – no more than 200mg/L – is based on how water tastes (palatability), not what is safe for health.

Worryingly, the WHO recommendations about drinking water are based on an outdated 2003 report that found evidence linking sodium with high blood pressure was lacking.

Convincing evidence has since confirmed that higher sodium intake is directly related to increased blood pressure.

The WHO updated its dietary guidelines for sodium in 2012 to reflect these health risks. But water guidelines have not changed.

What our new research shows

Our new research, published in recent weeks, reviewed guidelines for sodium in drinking water in 197 countries.

It found 20% of countries – home to 30% of the world’s population – have no sodium limit in drinking water.

Among the 132 countries that do, most (92%) follow WHO guidelines.

Our research found only 12 countries cited health reasons for setting sodium limits, and just two of these set stricter limits than WHO guidelines.

This means across the world, most drinking standards for sodium continue to be guided by taste, not health.

Palatability is highly subjective. Just as some people enjoy salty chips and others find them overpowering, sensitivity to sodium in water varies.

In contrast, the health risks of too much salt are clear.

What do Australia’s guidelines say?

Australia’s drinking water guidelines include a non-mandatory sodium limit of 180mg/L, also based on taste.

But this is still too high to protect health.

Drinking two litres of water at this concentration in one day would mean having 360mg of sodium – almost one-fifth of the recommended maximum. This is equivalent to eating a large bag of sea-salt popcorn.

While the guidelines do recommend that people with high blood pressure drink water with less than 20mg/L sodium, there is no clear plan for how this can be achieved equitably, especially when the alternative is expensive bottled water.

Water inequity in Walgett

The consequences of this policy gap are stark in places such as Walgett, a remote town in north-western New South Wales with a high Aboriginal population (almost 50%).

In 2018, when the local river ran dry, the town switched to bore water. Residents immediately noticed the water was slimy and undrinkable.

Local Aboriginal community controlled organisations asked researchers from the University of New South Wales to test the water. This revealed sodium levels over 300mg/L.

In 2020, the New South Wales government eventually installed a desalination plant, but due to issues managing waste, it was decommissioned a few months later.

Today, Walgett still lacks a long-term solution to provide drinking water with low levels of sodium.

Water inequality is health inequality

Walgett isn’t an isolated case. Many inland and remote towns, often with high Aboriginal populations, rely on rivers and bore water increasingly affected by drought and agricultural overuse.

This inequity in access to safe drinking water worsens the health gap.

Indigenous Australians already face higher rates of high blood pressure, cardiovascular disease, and chronic kidney disease – all worsened by excess sodium.

In places such as Walgett, where some people report spending as much as A$50 a week on bottled water, families are forced to choose between safe hydration and essentials such as food or medicine.

Without mandatory health-based limits, these communities have no way to compel authorities to make their water safe.

Safe drinking water is a human right

In 2023, the European Union mandated legally binding drinking water standards in all member states.

Although still based on the outdated 200mg/L taste threshold, this legal framework gives communities a basis to advocate for safer water – something Australia currently lacks.

A sodium limit closer to the United States Environmental Protection Agency guideline of 30–60mg/L would better align with health advice.

Without enforceable, health-based limits, Australia risks falling behind on its commitments to the sodium reduction targets and sustainable development goals set by the United Nations.

No one should have to fight for safe drinking water. If we want to protect our most vulnerable communities, water policy must catch up with science and public health priorities.

We would like to thank all of the authors of the paper, and the Yuwaya Ngarra-li, a community-led partnership between the Dharriwaa Elders Groups in Walgett and the University of New South Wales.

Juliette Crowther, Researcher in Food Policy, George Institute for Global Health and Jacqui Webster, Professor of Public Health, World Health Organization Collaborating Centre on Nursing, Midwifery and Health Development/School of Public Health, University of Technology Sydney

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

Prostate cancer is the most common cancer in Australia, with about 26,000 men diagnosed per year. The majority (more than 85%) are aged over 60.

Prostate cancer kills around 3,900 Australians a year. Yet most prostate cancers progress very slowly and many men die “with” and not “from” prostate cancer.

Prostate cancer is currently detected with a blood test. This measures the amounts of prostate specific antigen (PSA) in the blood, a protein produced by the prostate gland.

But while an elevated PSA can indicate prostate cancer, other non-cancerous conditions, such as prostate enlargement or inflammation, can also increase PSA levels.

New draft guidelines aim to provide clearer recommendations about the role PSA tests should play in detecting prostate cancer.

Life-saving treatment vs harmful overdiagnosis

Early detection of prostate cancer by PSA testing is important. It allows for timely treatments such as prostate removal surgery, radiation or hormonal therapy.

But despite their effectiveness, these treatments can cause problems such as erectile dysfunction. Urinary incontinence issues occur in up to 14% of patients.

Therefore, if the prostate cancer is considered low-risk and has not spread outside the prostate, the clinician may recommend “active surveillance” to closely monitor the cancer for signs of progression.

If the low-risk prostate cancer doesn’t progress, treatment and its associated side effects can be delayed or avoided.

The controversy around PSA testing is it can over-diagnose low-risk prostate cancers that would never become life-threatening.

PSA tests may also give false positive results when someone doesn’t have cancer.

Such scenarios cause harm to men who are over-treated for prostate cancer solely based on elevated PSA levels.

In a decades-long clinical study involving 182,000 men, PSA testing reduced prostate cancer deaths by 20% compared to men who didn’t undergo testing.

But a trade-off was having to over-treat around 48 men to prevent one prostate cancer death.

We need to find the balance between enabling early life-saving detection and preventing harmful over-treatment of men with low-risk prostate cancer.

What do the draft guidelines say?

The Prostate Cancer Foundation of Australia has released new draft clinical guidelines for the early detection of prostate cancer for public consultation.

The following recommended changes aim to reduce over-treatment and minimise harm.

1. Offer all men a ‘baseline’ PSA test at 40

All men would be offered an initial PSA test at age 40 to provide a baseline PSA measurement to compare against follow-up tests.

A baseline PSA measurement would enable the calculation of PSA doubling time: the number of months taken for PSA level to double from baseline.

Aggressive fast-growing tumors tend to have shorter PSA doubling times, so this would enable early detection of high-risk prostate cancer for prompt treatment.

Such a change could improve prostate cancer risk classification and spare more men from unnecessary harmful treatment side effects.

2. GPs offer men aged 50–69 PSA tests every two years

The draft guidelines recommend GPs offer PSA testing every two years for all men aged 50–69.

For men over 70, PSA testing would be recommended based on clinical assessment by GPs.

Men are more likely to be diagnosed with prostate cancer at an advanced age. So as they get older and have a shorter life expectancy, the harms of treatment are more likely to outweigh the benefits of early detection.

This recommendation could reduce over-diagnosis by considering individual life expectancy, overall health and potential treatment harms.

3. Target populations at greater risk

As with other cancer types, prostate cancer is a disease caused by gene malfunctioning leading to tumour growth. Men with a family history of prostate cancer are around three times more likely to develop and die from prostate cancer due to their genetic susceptibility.

Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander men have a higher risk of dying from prostate cancer compared to non-Indigenous men. This may be due to delayed diagnoses and limited access to prostate cancer treatment options in remote areas.

For these men with higher prostate cancer risk, the draft guidelines recommend earlier and more frequent PSA testing, starting at age 40.

This change could prioritise and serve targeted, high-risk populations of men who would benefit most from more regular PSA testing.

No more ‘finger up the bum’

Previously, men with high PSA levels were referred for needle prostate biopsies which involve invasive insertion of needles into different areas of the prostate to remove tissue samples for lab analyses.

Needle biopsies are painful and come with risks of bleeding or infection. So, it’s helpful to use additional prostate cancer testing approaches to guide who is referred for a biopsy.

The new draft guidelines no longer recommend the use of digital rectal examination, the dreaded “finger up the bum”, to screen for signs of prostate cancer together with PSA testing. Men find this unpleasant and embarrassing.

Instead, clinicians can turn to advanced imaging. Medicare rebates have been available for magnetic resonance imaging to diagnose prostate cancer since 2018.

Medical specialists often order a multiparametric MRI (mpMRI) following elevated PSA levels to determine if biopsies are required. This is a specialised MRI that uses strong magnets and radio waves to construct a detailed three-dimensional image of the prostate from different angles and identify suspicious-looking areas.

The draft guidelines recommend mpMRI to supplement PSA testing to better determine if a biopsy is needed. This saves men from unnecessary invasive procedures and reduces health-system costs.

The information gathered from the public consultations will inform the final draft prostate cancer early detection guidelines. The final recommendations will then be sent to the National Health and Medical Research Council for approval, before becoming clinical practice.

Kevin M. Koo, NHMRC Emerging Leadership Fellow, The University of Queensland

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

Washing your feet might not top your list of daily priorities – but it should.

While most of us shower regularly, our feet are often forgotten. Letting water run over them isn’t enough. To keep them healthy, you need to actively wash your feet with soap and water, paying close attention to the soles and the spaces between your toes. This helps remove sweat, dead skin and microbes that build up throughout the day and helps prevent infections, irritation – and that all-too-familiar smell.

Feet, particularly the spaces between toes, are a breeding ground for bacteria and fungi. Thanks to socks, shoes, and sweaty soles, they spend most of the day in a warm, humid environment that’s perfect for microbial growth. This can lead to common conditions like athlete’s foot, fungal nail infections, and bromodosis (smelly feet).

Stinky feet

Sweat itself doesn’t smell. But when bacteria break down sweat on your feet, they release smelly compounds called volatile fatty acids (VFAs). Staphylococcus bacteria are key players here, feeding on amino acids in sweat and producing isovaleric acid, which smells distinctly cheesy or sour (fun fact: it’s the same compound found in certain cheeses).

A study found that 98.6% of bacteria on the soles of participants’ feet were Staphylococci, and the intensity of foot odour was directly linked to how much of this bacteria was present.

Good foot hygiene isn’t just about avoiding odour, though; it also helps prevent infections. Athlete’s foot, a fungal infection, thrives in the damp space between your toes. It causes itching, redness, cracked skin and sometimes blisters. And despite the name, you don’t have to be an athlete to get it. The infection spreads easily in communal places like swimming pools, showers and changing rooms, particularly if you go barefoot.

If left untreated, the fungus can spread to the toenails, making them thick, yellow and brittle. Catching it early makes treatment much easier.

Bacterial infections are also a concern, especially when Staphylococcus or Pseudomonas enter through small cuts or cracked skin. Washing regularly helps reduce the number of bacteria living on the surface, lowering the risk of infection for anyone with vulnerable or damaged skin.

Diabetic foot care

If you have diabetes, foot care becomes even more important. People with diabetes are more prone to ulcers and infections and wounds often heal more slowly, particularly when blood sugar levels are poorly controlled.

This is due to several factors: poor circulation means less oxygen and fewer nutrients reach the site of the wound, the immune response is weaker, and inflammation may persist. Nerve damage (diabetic neuropathy) in the feet can also mean that injuries go unnoticed – and untreated.

According to Diabetes UK, daily foot washing is a key part of diabetes care; not just to reduce infection risk, but to check for any early signs of damage, such as redness, swelling, or breaks in the skin.

Too clean?

If you’ve been in closed shoes all day, or exercising, a proper wash is a good idea. For most people, once a day is enough, particularly during warm weather.

But not everyone needs to scrub their feet daily. The skin is home to a healthy community of beneficial microbes that defend against harmful bacteria and support the skin’s natural barrier. Overwashing, particularly with hot water or harsh soaps, can strip these helpful organisms and remove natural oils, leaving skin dry, irritated and more prone to cracking.

This is especially problematic for people with skin conditions like eczema where the skin barrier is already weakened.

The use of antibacterial soaps can also disrupt the skin’s microbial balance, killing off friendly bacteria and potentially encouraging the growth of more harmful, antibiotic-resistant strains. Some scientists also suggest that excessive hygiene might reduce the immune system’s exposure to everyday microbes; exposure that helps build a healthy immune response.

How to wash your feet properly

Here’s how to do it right, according to NHS guidance:

• use warm (not hot) water and a mild soap

• wash thoroughly, paying close attention to the soles and between the toes

• dry your feet completely, including the spaces between your toes

• apply moisturiser to keep the skin soft and less likely to crack — but skip the areas between the toes, as added moisture there can encourage fungal growth

• inspect your feet regularly for any signs of redness, swelling, or blisters — vital for those with diabetes.

If you notice persistent itching, unusual odours, or signs of infection, speak to a pharmacist. They can recommend over-the-counter treatments or refer you to a podiatrist if necessary.

Whether you’re active, managing a chronic condition, or just trying to stay fresh in summer, proper foot hygiene matters. It might seem like a small step – but it makes a big difference to your overall health.

Dipa Kamdar, Senior Lecturer in Pharmacy Practice, Kingston University

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

Alcohol has many negative effects on our health, some of which may surprise you. These include short-term impacts such as waking up with a pounding head or anxiety, to long-term effects including cancer.

If you are thinking about taking some time off alcohol, you’ll find many quick wins and long-term gains for your health.

How long will you have to wait to feel the benefits?

We’ve made a timeline – based on scientific research – that shows what you might feel in the first days, weeks, months and years after taking a break from alcohol.

Some benefits start immediately, so every day without alcohol is a win for your health.

After one day

Alcohol takes around 24 hours to completely leave your body, so you may start noticing improvements after just one day.

Alcohol makes you need to urinate more often, causing dehydration. But your body can absorb a glass of water almost immediately, so once alcohol is out of your system alcohol dehydration is reduced, improving digestion, brain function and energy levels.

Alcohol also reduces the liver’s ability to regulate blood sugar. Once alcohol leaves the system, blood sugar begins to normalise.

If you are a daily drinker you may feel a bit worse to start with while your body adjusts to not having alcohol in its system all the time. You may initially notice disrupted sleep, mood changes, sweating or tremors. Most symptoms usually resolve in about a week without alcohol.

After one week

Even though alcohol can make you feel sleepy at first, it disrupts your sleep cycle. By the end of an alcohol-free week, you may notice you are more energetic in the mornings as a result of getting better quality sleep.

As the body’s filter, the liver does much of the heavy lifting in processing alcohol and can be easily damaged even with moderate drinking.

The liver is important for cleaning blood, processing nutrients and producing bile that helps with digestion.

But it can also regenerate quickly. If you have only mild damage in the liver, seven days may be enough to reduce liver fat and heal mild scarring and tissue damage.

Even small amounts of alcohol can impair brain functioning. So quitting can help improve brain health within a few days in light to moderate drinkers and within a month even for very heavy dependent drinkers.

After one month

Alcohol can make managing mood harder and worsen symptoms of anxiety and depression. After a few weeks, most people start to feel better. Even very heavy drinkers report better mood after one to two months.

As your sleep and mood improve you may also notice more energy and greater wellbeing.

After a month of abstinence regular drinkers also report feeling more confident about making changes to how they drink.

You may lose weight and body fat. Alcohol contains a lot of kilojules and can trigger hunger reward systems, making us overeat or choose less healthy foods when drinking.

Even your skin will thank you. Alcohol can make you look older through dehydration and inflammation, which can be reversed when you quit.

Alcohol irritates the gut and disrupts normal stomach functioning, causing bloating, indigestion, heartburn and diarrhoea. These symptoms usually start to resolve within four weeks.

One month of abstinence, insulin resistance – which can lead to high blood sugar – significantly reduces by 25%. Blood pressure also reduces (by 6%) and cancer-related growth factors declines, lowering your risk of cancer.

After six months

The liver starts to repair within weeks. For moderate drinkers, damage to your liver could be fully reversed by six months.

At this point, even heavy drinkers may notice they’re better at fighting infections and feel healthier overall.

After one year or more

Alcohol contributes to or causes a large number of chronic diseases, including heart disease, stroke, type 2 diabetes, and seven different types of cancer, as well as mental health issues. All of these risks can be reduced by quitting or cutting back on alcohol.

Alcohol increases blood pressure. High blood pressure (hypertension) is the top risk factor for death in the world. A small 2mmHg increase in blood pressure above the normal range (120mmHG) increases death from stroke by 10% and from coronary artery disease by 7%.

Cutting back on alcohol to less than two drinks a day can reduce blood pressure significantly, reducing risk of stroke and heart disease. Reducing blood pressure also reduces risk of kidney disease, eye problems and even erectile dysfunction.

With sustained abstinence, your risk of getting any type of cancer drops. One study looked at cancer risk for more than 4 million adults over three to seven years and found the risk of alcohol-related cancer dropped by 4%, even for light drinkers who quit. Reducing from heavy to moderate drinking reduced alcohol-related cancer risk by 9%.

Making a change

Any reduction in drinking will have some noticeable and immediate benefits to your brain and general health. The less you drink and the longer you go between drinks, the healthier you will be.

Whether you aim to cut back or quit entirely, there are some simple things you can do to help you stick with it:

• set clear goals plus the smaller steps you need to take to get there

• pay attention to the benefits you notice from quitting

• monitor your progress with a Drink Tracker

• get support from others, for example Hello Sunday Morning’s anonymous Daybreak app, SMART Recovery, CounsellingOnline or Sober in the Country.

If you are still wondering about whether to make changes or not you can check your drinking risk here.

If you have tried to cut back and found it difficult you may need professional help. Call the National Alcohol and other Drug Hotline on 1800 250 015 and they will put you in touch with services in your area that can help. You can also talk to your GP.

We would like to thank Dr Hannah MacRae for assistance in identifying the research used in this article.

Nicole Lee, Adjunct Professor at the National Drug Research Institute (Melbourne based), Curtin University and Katinka van de Ven, Alcohol and other drug specialist, UNSW Sydney

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

If you want to advertise a house online in Australia, you don’t have many options. Just two companies dominate the market.

Australia’s largest property listings platform, realestate.com.au, belongs to digital media company REA Group, which is majority-owned by Rupert Murdoch’s US-based media conglomerate News Corporation (News Corp).

REA claims average traffic of 11.9 million viewers per month, substantially more than that of its nearest rival, Domain.

That’s led to widespread concern about REA’s dominant market power and the potential for price-gouging, which are currently subject to an ongoing probe by the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission (ACCC).

Meanwhile, my research has revealed that REA has expanded into mortgage lending, an important new direction which, until now, has escaped attention.

The implications here are worth considering. News Corp, a foreign-owned media company, now has a direct stake in framing the Australian housing narrative and influencing policy, while profiting through its property platform from listings, data, and its own mortgages.

It’s a shrewd business strategy. But Australia currently doesn’t have a regulator fit for overseeing such a hybrid entity, raising serious questions about who is keeping watch.

‘Good debt’

Australian households have long accepted the prevailing narrative, promoted by the media, that housing investment is their “path to wealth”. Mortgages are endorsed as the way to manage the growing gap between flatlined wages and rising house prices.

Primed for finance in this way, many households have come to embrace mortgages as an aspirational form of “good debt”, the mark of a savvy player rather than a long-term financial burden.

This has helped fuel what could be described as a housing “frenzy”, a volatile situation in which escalating housing prices and indebtedness undermine household wellbeing. Younger generations and the disadvantaged, among others, are left out in the cold.

From newspapers to platforms to finance

As digitisation has forced legacy media players such as News Corp to seek new strategies to stay viable, so too has it disrupted the finance industry by opening it up to non-bank players.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, REA Group entered the mortgage market in 2016, starting with a partnership with National Australia Bank. It purchased mortgage brokerages the following year.

The realestate.com.au platform was then redesigned to include a mortgage portal to direct millions of Australian homeseekers to lending through those channels. This provides REA with revenue from platform leads to the bank, as well as up-front and trailing mortgage commissions from their brokers.

REA also harvests the extensive financial data supplied by millions of users via their financial profiles and the calculator tools embedded in the website.

That data, an increasingly valuable asset, can be monetised through the platform’s advertiser and homebuyer markets, and News Corp’s extensive partnerships with data broker and analytics companies.

Selling mortgages

Most recently, REA Group has taken its finance strategy one step further. In October 2024, it purchased a 19.9% stake in digital non-bank lender Athena Home Loans.

This allows REA to profit directly from its own mortgages offered to platform users through its current brokerage, Mortgage Choice.

For REA Group (and its owner, News Corp), this move is both logical and strategically compelling in a challenging media environment. As well as influencing policy, REA Group and News Corp are proficient in crafting and cross-promoting a powerful message about housing and debt to the public.

With their profit now even more directly tied to the housing mortgage market – and thereby customers’ debt – the Athena acquisition can only strengthen REA’s vested interest in the continued rise in house prices and household indebtedness. This has the potential to undermine policies to improve housing affordability.

The law can’t keep up

The power imbalance against consumers is stark. So which regulator is keeping an eye on it?

Such an initiative combining housing, finance and media can slip through the cracks in Australia’s fragmented regulatory system with its narrowly-focused legislation.

The legislation lags behind the technology as well. A platform’s persuasive design, with its algorithmic tools, predetermined paths and data harvesting, obscures its prioritisation of commercial interests over that of consumers.

Players from different industries interacting through the “black box” of a platform appear to come under looser regulatory oversight than those from a single industry or operating outside a platform.

As an ACCC representative admitted:

the legislation isn’t updated in the way that […] keeps pace with the evolving technology, trends and emerging markets.

In a landscape where such complex digital initiatives are becoming the norm, regulators urgently need to update their understanding and broaden their jurisdiction to include them.

And not just in Australia. REA has confirmed that a successful trial of its initiative here will lead to its rollout across its broad global property platform network.

Nor just REA. Other companies are eyeing this space. REA’s closest competitor, Domain, is currently under acquisition by CoStar, a major digital real estate player in the United States, with the aim to challenge REA.

The rapid and major disruptions caused by such initiatives, such as Airbnb’s negative impact on housing affordability globally, can be difficult to redress retrospectively.

Somebody needs to keep watch.

REA Group declined to comment on this article.

Roberta Esbitt, Associate, RMIT University

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

Political lobby group Advance has been back in the headlines this week. It was revealed an organisation headed by the husband of the Special Envoy for Combatting Antisemitism, Jillian Segal, donated A$50,000 to the group.

The news prompted outcry, though Segal denied any personal involvement.

So what is Advance and what does it do?

What is Advance?

Advance (originally Advance Australia) is a digital campaigning organisation. It was formed in 2018 by a group of wealthy Australians, many with connections to the Liberal Party. The idea was to be a conservative counterpoint to progressive digital campaigning group GetUp!

At the time, political journalist Mungo McCallum described them as a “stratospherically elite clique of rich, bored men looking for a hobby.” He suggested they would have little, if any, impact.

Today the group has more than 330,000 members.

They also successfully led the “No” campaign in the Indigenous Voice to Parliament Referendum in 2023.

McCallum’s initial dismissal of Advance appears somewhat premature.

What does Advance want?

Advance’s stated aim is to “take the fight to the activists and elites” to “secure Australia’s freedom, security and prosperity”. They campaign against progressive taxation, immigration, the transition to renewable energy and even Welcome to Country ceremonies.

This positions Advance alongside other right-wing populist actors, including Donald Trump, in the modern “war on woke”. This comparison was welcomed by founding Advance director, major donor and hedge fund manager Simon Fenwick.

These actors, which in Australia also include the Murdoch Press, construct elitism not along class lines, but along an urban/rural divide. In its view, Advance’s billionaire funders are apparently not elites. Instead, they attempt to foster divisions between urban “elites” and regional and suburban “mainstream Australians”.

Like the Trumpian model of “flood(ing) the zone with shit”, Advance has been accused of pursuing these aims by “unleashing a veritable fire hose of disinformation”. The hose is often aimed at progressive political candidates, climate change, immigrants or the Voice referendum.

Who runs and funds Advance?

Advance’s longtime Executive Director and “main man” is the somewhat enigmatic Matthew Sheahan. Their current spokesperson is Sandra Bourke, who has a background in law enforcement and national security. In 2024, Bourke claimed Advance was “the biggest grassroots movement in Australian political history”.

While Advance is structurally independent of any political party, a variety of Liberal Party figures have been closely connected to the organisation, including former Prime Minister Tony Abbott.

Early prominent members (and funders) of Advance included storage king Sam Kennard, far-right former president of the Australian Jewish Association David Adler, and climate denier Maurice Newman.

Founding Director Simon Fenwick has donated at least $400,000 to the organisation through his family trust since its inception.

In 2023–24, Advance received a $500,000 donation from the Cormack Foundation, an investment fund created by the Liberal Party of Victoria.

The organisation reported income of more than $15.5 million in the same period. It claims their average donation received from supporters is $160.

What impact has Advance had?

The 2023 Voice Referendum “made” Advance (and arguably Matthew Sheahan) via their management of two prominent No campaigns.

Prior to this, Advance’s campaigning was arguably more nuisance than anything else.

Advance’s No campaign featured significant amounts of dis- and misinformation across multiple media channels, including phone banking (cold calling voters). The campaign was characterised by contradictory micro campaigns that sowed the confusion that fed the slogan of “if you don’t know, vote No”.

The Advance-led No campaigns also strongly embraced racism against leading First Nations voices. This included suggestions that media commentator Stan Grant had artificially darkened his skin, questioning the “blackness” of Victorian Senator Lidia Thorpe, and utilising “Jim Crow” style advertising against leading Yes campaigner Thomas Mayo.

The Jim Crow era of American history refers to a time in the late 19th and early-mid 20th centuries where laws enforced racial segregation and discrimination.

One of the key spokespeople for Advance’s No campaign was Jacinta Nampijinpa Price, a woman with Aboriginal and Anglo-Celtic heritage. She’s a former Advance staffer and current Liberal Party Senator and made the comments about Lidia Thorpe.

Why is Advance important?

Following their role in the Voice campaign, Advance have arguably “eclipsed” their inspiration and progressive rivals GetUp! as Australia’s leading digital campaigning organisation. Glen Berman, current GetUp! chair, has even admitted “there were things that GetUp! could learn” from Advance.

Advance appeared influential over Liberal Party strategy ahead of the 2025 federal election campaign. During the campaign, it was the highest spending third party group (non-party, non-candidate) on Meta (Facebook and Instagram) advertising. This saw it emerge as the conservative third party “opposition” to the Australian union movement.

However, following the Australian Labor Party’s landslide victory, Advance attempted to distance themselves from the Coalition’s campaign. While they claim to have been focused on “destroying” the Greens, analysis suggests Advance’s campaign was equally focused on framing Labor Prime Minister Anthony Albanese as “weak, woke and sending us broke”.

Senior Liberal Party figures, for their part, have also “cast doubt on the effectiveness of Advance”, saying it may have cost them seats.

Generally, scholars Marian Sawer and Kurt Sengul argue Advance, along with the Murdoch media, have engaged in the “populist mobilisation of resentment which is likely to exacerbate the kind of divisions seen in the Voice referendum” since 2018.

Part of a worldwide trend towards right-wing populism, Advance will likely continue to be at the centre of conservative politics in Australia.

Mark Riboldi, Lecturer in Social Impact and Social Change, UTS Business School, University of Technology Sydney

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