The red pipefish (Notiocampus ruber) is a rare relative of seahorses and seadragons found only in Australia.
While the species occurs across southern Australia from Western Australia to New South Wales, its incredible camouflage means until now only one person had ever photographed it in the wild.
In Gamay (Botany Bay) it has been observed hiding among feathery red algae, but elsewhere the red pipefish has been recorded on rocky reefs. Its colour and slender body allow it to disappear almost completely against its surroundings.
For decades, scientists have wondered how these elusive creatures carry their eggs. Our new photographs and research, published in the Journal of Fish Biology, finally provide an answer.
A lucky sighting
One of us (Andrew) regularly dives the popular Sydney sites The Leap and The Steps at Kurnell, Gamay (Botany Bay), where he documents seahorses, pygmy pipehorses, seadragons and other related sealife.
Andrew had briefly seen a red pipefish twice before. However, he struck gold when he spotted one at Kurnell in April 2021. He kept tabs on this individual, spotting it almost weekly until January 2022.
During that time it was joined by two more red pipefish. When all three were sighted in November 2021, one was a brooding male carrying eggs on his trunk.
Tails or trunks?
While pipefishes and seahorses are famous for male pregnancy, the family is split by how the males carry their young. Many pipefish – and all seahorses – are “tail brooders”, carrying eggs on the tail in pouches.
Another group of pipefish, the “trunk brooders”, carry eggs exposed directly on the belly. However, scientists have suspected the red pipefish was a tail brooder since 1979 based on the structure of its body. However, without a living male to study the theory remained unproven.
The small translucent lumps on the pipefish’s trunk are eggs attached directly to its body.Andrew Trevor-Jones, CC BY
Andrew’s photographs from his November 2021 dives at Kurnell finally provided the proof. They clearly show a male carrying large eggs attached directly to the belly – confirming the species as a trunk-brooder and placing it in an ancient group of pipefishes that lack pouches entirely.
Interestingly, the data suggest this Australian fish may be a long-lost relative of species found as far away as the North Atlantic, despite the vast geographical separation.
Finding such a rare fish in the well-dived waters of Gamay is a reminder that major biological secrets are still hiding in plain sight.
The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
An election year budget is a government’s pitch for reelection. For opposition parties, it’s a chance to make their case for change.
Unfortunately for Finance Minister Nicola Willis, her National Party can’t campaign on two of its three big fiscal policy promises from the previous election: to achieve a surplus, reduce debt and cut spending on bureaucracy.
With surplus forecasts moved out by years and government debt having risen, that only leaves the bureaucracy as a viable target.
Willis took the initiative last week with a pre-budget speech in Auckland where she announced three major goals based on National’s 2023 pledge to “reduce spending on bureaucracy”:
cut the number of public service agencies through amalgamations
embed AI into all public entities
return core public servant numbers to a historic norm of 1% of the population.
That would mean, by July 2029, 8,700 fewer public service employees than in December 2025. Willis claims that wouldn’t affect wider state sector employees such as teachers, nurses, doctors or police.
Speaking to Auckland business owners and managers, her message was clear: Wellington is getting serious about value for taxpayers’ money.
Using figures from the Public Service Commission, Willis pointed out that public servants had, since 1993, been around 1% of the population, but grew to 1.2% under the previous Labour government.
Bureaucrats are always a soft political target for the right, and Willis’ taxpaying business audience was apparently receptive to her message.
She chose a sharp wedge issue, however, forcing Labour and the Greens to react by defending public sector employees and attacking “austerity” policies.
Moreover, the economy has been hit by an unexpected energy crisis because of the Middle East situation.
In December, Westpac was forecasting 3.0% growth in 2026 and a decline in the unemployment rate. By this month, they’d revised that to 1.5% growth and a rise in unemployment, none of which is good for a government’s budget or its electoral prospects.
National’s fiscal challenge
Willis’ pre-budget speech was getting in ahead of any bad news she may deliver on budget day. Before the 2023 election, the National Party had offered voters a fiscal plan to “deliver the turnaround the government’s books need”, pledging to:
achieve a surplus in 2026/27
reduce government debt
reduce spending on bureaucracy.
Willis has refreshed that third goal, but what about the other two?
Rather than return to surplus in 2026/27 as promised, the Treasury’s December 2025 update shifted the goalpost to 2029/30. So National faces November’s election still in deficit, and the war in Iran has only made things worse.
Accordingly, government debt has risen in the past three years. The Treasury forecast net core Crown debt to rise and peak at 46.9% of GDP in 2027/28, then decline to 46.1% by 2030.
If the Superannuation Fund is included, as economist Susan St John recommends, the net debt-to-GDP figures are much lower, but they’ve still risen since 2023.
Officially, the Superannuation Fund is excluded from the calculation of net debt because it’s not available for current expenditure, and is invested in growth assets and hence volatile.
By National’s own standards, though, the government has failed to deliver on some key fiscal policies in its first term. In November, voters will determine whether it’s to be its last.
The government’s opponents can argue National’s goals were wrong to begin with.
The assumption the government is somehow “broke” and has to stop borrowing and cut spending can be challenged. But there is no political consensus about what would be a fiscally prudent “ceiling” above which public debt shouldn’t rise.
The Treasury’s “recommended prudent limit for net core Crown debt” is 50% of GDP. Other countries have gone much higher. But New Zealand is a small, almost irrelevant economy in the eyes of international investors and credit-rating agencies, so cross-country comparisons may not be helpful.
Debt and doubt
In the 1990s and 2000s, both National and Labour governments reduced net core Crown debt, starting from a level higher than at present, down to below 10%. After the global financial crisis hit in 2008, this allowed the next National government to run deficits for a few years while the economy recovered.
Willis says “the interest bill on our debt has soared to about $9 billion a year”, or about 6% of expenses. That’s a long way from being broke or unable to service loans, let alone default.
But there has to be a prudent limit to borrowing, especially for a small economy vulnerable to economic shocks. No government wants to turn their country into one of history’s sovereign debt defaulters. The consequences of that are catastrophic.
Government debt may sound boring, but it’s a vital political question for this budget and for the coming election.
The Green, Labour and NZ First parties are promising public investment funds, and they should advise voters how much they’d need to borrow overall. All taxpayers help repay the debts, after all, so they should be able to weigh borrowing up against the benefits of proposed investments.
Get ready for the usual political bunfight on budget day. But think critically about where the government – and its opponents – might lead the country.
Grant Duncan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
It has long been the case that when a US President speaks, financial markets react.
But recently oil markets have been behaving a bit differently: sometimes the stock price moves before Trump posts. Millions of dollars are changing hands with some traders seeming to have made incredibly well-timed bets. Did some of them know something the rest of the market didn’t?
@realDonaldTrump made 1,341 Truth Social posts from January 25 to April 8. Our analysis of that 73-day window reveals 15 distinct events with unusual trading activity around Trump’s posts. In several of those events — including the most striking ones — the price had already moved sharply in the minutes before he posted.
Timothy Graham receives funding from the Australian Research Council for the Discovery Project "Understanding and Combatting 'Dark Political Communication'", from the Universities Australia-German Academic Exchange Service Joint Research Cooperation Scheme, and from Meta Platforms Technologies.
Ella Chorazy receives funding from the Australian Research Council (ARC), for the Discovery Project 'Understanding and Combatting "Dark Political Communication"'.
Stephen Harrington receives funding from the Australian Research Council, for the Discovery Project 'Understanding and Combatting "Dark Political Communication"', and for the Discovery Project "Understanding Twenty-First Century Media Uses and Purposes".
The deep-sea sponge _Calyx_ sp. in its natural habitat.PROBIO-DEEP/Fugro
When we think of marine life, we usually picture colourful coral reefs or dense seaweed forests filled with fish and other critters. The ocean that comes to mind is the one touched by sunlight.
Individual sponges can also pump and filter thousands of litres of water every day through their bodies. The nutrients they release support other organisms. Yet we know remarkably little about how sponges survive, let alone thrive, in the inhospitable environment of the deep-sea.
Symbiosis with microbes is an important part of how marine sponges live. We’ve been studying deep-sea sponges to better understand life in the ocean’s depths. So far, we’ve found some sponges are packed with microorganisms that use energy from chemical reactions.
The deep-sea sponge Aphrocallistes beatrix has the highest proportion of chemosynthetic symbionts reported to date.PROBIO-DEEP/Fugro
Our new study, published today in the journal Microbiome, shows sponges and their microbial partners also use a second strategy to make a living in the deep sea.
Two strategies, one sponge
All living organisms produce waste. Just like humans produce urine, many sponges produce ammonia as one of their waste products.
In this study, we analysed the Calyx species of deep-sea sponges from a depth of 830 metres.
About 16% of their microbial partners use the familiar chemosynthesis process. With ammonia as the energy source, they use carbon dioxide dissolved in the water to build biomass – it’s a bit like plants growing through photosynthesis from sunlight, but in the dark.
In well-lit shallow waters, many sponges and corals have photosynthetic microbes that help them build biomass from carbon dioxide. Our findings show that in the dark depths of the ocean, sponges have microbial partners that use ammonia instead of light for the same process.
The remaining 84% of microbial partners are where it gets really interesting. Instead of chemosynthesis these microbes use heterotrophy, which means consuming organic matter to generate energy and biomass (like the vast majority of animals, humans are also heterotrophs).
The problem here is that there’s little organic matter in the deep sea. Whatever falls down from the surface waters, such as dead plankton and algae, gets stripped by bacteria and small crustaceans of anything easily digestible as it sinks through the water column.
So, the little amount of organic matter that reaches the seafloor is generally poor food for the sponge itself. But, as we discovered, not necessarily for its microbial partners.
It turns out the heterotrophic microbes in Calyx sponges have lots of enzymes specialised in breaking down complex compounds, such as xylan and pectin, which make up the hard-to-digest cell walls of algae.
Feeding on these algal skeletons would allow the microbes to thrive and to transform organic molecules into nutrients their sponge host can use.
Deep-sea sponges and crinoids (marine invertebrates) in a deep-sea reef.PROBIO-DEEP/Fugro
Protecting what we don’t yet understand
Our study shows that sponges and their microbial partners are complex, biogeochemical reactors. They use and recycle ammonia “urine”, carbon dioxide and hard-to-digest organics to generate biomass.
The biomass can then support the growth of other organisms, such as brittle stars and fish, in turn supporting the broader community of animals living on the dark seafloor.
Unfortunately, these ecosystems are under pressure from human activities. Deep-sea trawling physically destroys sponge gardens. Deep-sea mining, now being actively pursued for rare metals used in batteries and electronics, threatens to disrupt the deep-sea habitat in ways that might take centuries to recover.
The United Nations has recognised deep-sea sponge gardens as vulnerable marine ecosystems, a formal acknowledgement of both their ecological importance and their fragility. But recognition alone is not enough.
If we destroy these habitats before we fully understand their role in carbon transformation, then we may lose a critical piece of Earth’s carbon cycle before fully realising it was there.
Torsten Thomas receives funding from the Betty and Gordon Moore Foundation USA and the Australian Government.
Alessandro N. Garritano does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Public hearings are underway this week to highlight the impacts of the government’s new National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS) bill to tighten eligibility and save costs.
Over the past two days, the Senate inquiry heard that if the bill passes in its current form, it risks entrenching gender inequities in the NDIS and further excluding women and girls.
Women and girls only make up 38% of the scheme. Men outnumber women in every age category (except for 55 and over) and dominate nearly every disability type within the scheme.
From the age of 15, access requests from men are also approved at a higher rate than access requests for women.
Tighter eligibility
From January 1 2028, the bill will require scheme applicants to access all “appropriate” treatments (meaning known, evidence-based and available in Australia) likely to “materially” (meaning noticeably) improve or alleviate the impact of the impairment, before NDIS access is granted.
Applicants have always been asked to demonstrate they’ve tried other treatments before applying for the NDIS. But this new rule is likely to place an even higher burden on people with impairments that are difficult to diagnose and medically complex to treat.
Under the new permanency rules, people may have to try lots of potentially marginal treatments that might slightly improve functioning, even if their conditions are not understood, or the treatment is expensive or difficult to access.
These “pay to prove” dynamics also disproportionately affect those with fewer financial resources. Women with disability are more likely than men with disability to live on lower incomes. They also have higher expenses and lower earning capacity due to greater caring responsibilities.
Tightening access to the scheme in this way – without first addressing costly and difficult-to-access treatment pathways – risks excluding these women and girls from key supports.
Support can only be provided for approved conditions
If the bill passes, the NDIS will only fund supports for needs that directly relate to NDIS-recognised impairments.
This reverses changes to NDIS legislation introduced two years ago, which better recognised the complex way people actually experience impairments.
We have spoken to people in our current study about chronic pain who have explained that pain from one condition (for example, a connective tissue disorder) can affect the functional impacts of another impairment (for example, autism or a psychosocial disability, for which they receive NDIS support). For them, it’s impossible to distinguish between support needs “arising directly” from their NDIS-recognised impairment and support needs that are indirectly related to that impairment.
Women are also more likely than men to experience multiple chronic health conditions and disabilities, especially in age groups under the NDIS cut-off of 65.
Narrowing the lens of assessment and restricting access in this way also has gendered consequences.
Cuts to social participation funding
The bill gives the minister power to make cuts to entire categories of supports in the future, without introducing legislation or consultation.
We got a taste of what this could look when the government announced it would cut participants’ social and community participation budgets.
The 50% across-the-board cuts will shift these responsibilities back onto informal carers – largely women.
There are more than twice as many female primary carers as male primary carers. Of those providing primary care to children with disability, the overwhelming majority (84.7%) are women.
Some 43.8% of primary carers also have disability themselves. This means that when it comes to carers, we are often talking about women with disability who are the primary carers for children with disability.
These cuts will increase unpaid caring responsibilities. The bill’s explanatory memorandum acknowledges this:
Due to the gendered nature of caring, women are more likely to be impacted by changes to the supports available […].
These changes may lead carers to cut back on paid employment, deepening women’s socioeconomic exclusion.
Cuts to social and community participation funding are also likely to increase social isolation and reduce natural safeguards of community connection for people with disability.
Women with disability are disproportionately likely to experience violence, so cutting them off from vital community participation supports poses an unacceptable risk.
opportunities to increase gender equality will be considered as part of the design and evaluation of future market reforms to delivering social and community participation and capacity building activities.
However, no timeframes, benchmarks or accountability mechanisms are provided for when or how this work will occur.
The Australian government’s approach to gender-responsive budgeting requires new policy proposals to include gender analysis proportionate to the scale, scope and likely impact of the reform.
Given the scale and implications of the proposed NDIS reforms, we need a comprehensive and publicly available gender impact analysis before this bill is passed.
We also need more certainty on what can be done for those outside the scheme who need foundational supports. The Australian government has announced the Thriving Kids initiative. However, there is limited detail on planned foundational supports for other participant groups.
Researchers and advocates have been calling for an NDIS gender strategy for years. The National Disability Insurance Agency (NDIA) began work on this in early 2025, but by 2026 this work had been paused to prioritise broader scheme reforms. Advocates, such as Women with Disabilities Australia, continue to draw attention to the gendered issues of these reforms.
The likely consequences of these reforms show a gender strategy is needed more than ever.
Sophie Yates receives funding from the National Health and Medical Research Council.
Molly Saunders does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Japan is experiencing historically high numbers of foreigners. Its population is shrinking, and its workforce is ageing, driving foreign labour to historic levels.
In addition, the number of international tourists has also reached record highs, reshaping everyday life across the country. In fact, Japan now rivals, and sometimes outstrips, Bali as Australians’ favourite holiday destination.
Yet, despite the expansion of channels for migrant labour and settlement over the past two decades, successive governments have avoided describing the country as an immigration society. They have also been reluctant to adopt broader frameworks for immigrant integration and social inclusion.
However, given the recent surge, questions about foreigners have moved from a policy footnote to a genuinely contested issue. So what do the Japanese people really think?
Generational differences
A nationally representative survey of 1,500 Japanese adults was conducted immediately after the lower house election in February 2026. It revealed striking findings on how the Japanese public views foreigners.
Nearly two thirds of respondents support both tighter regulations on foreign land purchases and the expectation that foreigners follow Japanese rules and customs. These restrictive views hold across gender, education and income groups. The major exception is age: younger generations tend to express more tolerant views toward foreigners.
The recent influx of foreigners – as workers and tourists – appears to be prompting a change in attitude among Japanese people.
The 2025 upper house election marked a turning point. Sanseito, a nationalist party that made immigration restriction its central platform, achieved a strong result, claiming 14 seats on a “Japanese first” platform.
This result signalled that explicitly anti-immigrant positions could attract meaningful public support. This in turn placed pressure on mainstream parties to address the issue more directly.
That momentum carried into the 2026 lower house election. The Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), under Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi, won a landslide victory while tightening its stance on immigration policies. This included raising the requirements for permanent residency and naturalisation, and tightening regulations on foreign land purchases.
Against this political backdrop, understanding how Japanese citizens view foreigners and what identities and values shape those views has become increasingly important.
The post-election survey provides timely evidence on these questions.
My analysis of the data finds a broad consensus on foreigners among most demographics. When asked whether Japan should strengthen regulations on land purchases by foreign nationals and foreign capital, 66.5% of respondents either agreed or somewhat agreed.
When asked whether foreign nationals should place the highest priority on following Japanese rules, etiquette and customs, 62.9% agreed or somewhat agreed. Less than 7% disagree on either item.
It is notable these numbers hold across demographic groups. University and high school graduates express similarly restrictive views; men and women hold nearly identical attitudes; and higher-income respondents are no more tolerant than those on lower incomes.
However, as mentioned, the one important exception to this consensus is age. Younger Japanese are measurably more tolerant of foreigners than their older counterparts. This suggests attitudes toward foreigners in Japan may be slowly shifting.
Party politics play a role
Party support does structure anti-foreigner attitudes to some degree. Sanseito voters record the most restrictive views on both questions. Centrist Reform Alliance voters are the least restrictive. However, party supporters differ only in the intensity of restrictive attitudes, not whether they endorse them.
The survey also included questions measuring traditional values, which capture deference to authority and social norms, and authoritarian values, which capture acceptance of force and coercion.
Traditional values show little variation by age, gender, education or income. In contrast, authoritarian values vary by age, with young people actually showing more authoritarian values. This resonates with a survey of junior high school students in the Tokyo metropolitan area, where the proportion agreeing that “people who break the rules should be punished strictly” rose from 59% in 2018 to 79% in 2025.
At the same time, LDP voters score highest on both measures. This is consistent with the party’s longstanding position as the vehicle of conservative values in postwar Japanese politics.
Both traditional and authoritarian values correlate significantly with anti-foreigner attitudes. Respondents who are more sceptical of authority, less committed to social norms, and less accepting of force tend to hold more tolerant views toward foreigners.
A changing Japan
My analysis reveals a society where restrictive attitudes toward foreigners are widespread, generationally inflected, and grounded in traditional and authoritarian values. This reflects a tension that Japanese policymakers and the public have struggled to resolve: the economic case for accepting more foreign workers is clear, yet it sits uneasily alongside deep-rooted ideas of cultural cohesion and ethnic homogeneity.
Future research could sharpen this picture by distinguishing among Japanese people’s views of foreign tourists, short-term workers and long-term residents.
How the Japanese public views its growing foreign population will continue to matter in future Japanese elections. Similarly, how the government responds will offer an important test case for neighbouring East Asian societies grappling with similar tensions.
Peter Chai does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Imagine you have used a generative artificial intelligence (AI) tool such as ChatGPT to tidy up notes you took while in a meeting. Your colleague comments on how clear they are. You don’t disclose it was the AI that made the notes clear and not you.
Now consider a different scenario. You are at your mother’s funeral. Her best friend of many years delivers a heartfelt eulogy, wishing her well in the afterlife. But later you discover her friend did not actually write the eulogy in any way – AI did.
The undisclosed use of generative AI in these two scenarios is deceptive. But is it morally wrong?
It’s worth considering this philosophical question in detail, given the rapid uptake of generative AI and the fact research has found people may be strongly incentivised to not disclose their use of generative AI because it may impact their relationships.
This is because people take generative AI outputs, generally, to be less valuable, and regard those who use the technology as less competent and authentic.
Distinguishing different kinds of deception
Roughly speaking, if you’re engaging in a “deceptive act”, you’re trying to get someone to believe something you know is false. However, deception can come in different varieties.
Philosopher John Danaher provides a useful framework to distinguish between three forms of deception by AI or robots. This framework is useful because, just as robots might convincingly mimic human behaviours, generative AI technologies are allowing humans to do the same.
Some deceptions involve lying or misrepresenting the external world, such as telling someone you saw a horse in the street, even though you didn’t. Danaher calls these “external state” deceptions.
Other deceptions involve lying or misrepresenting facts about ourselves, such as making someone believe you’re an accomplished artist, even though the artwork you showed them was generated by AI. Danaher calls these “superficial state” deceptions.
We can also deceive others into believing we lack thoughts, feelings or competencies we actually possess, such as pretending to not understand a language we speak in order to eavesdrop. Danaher calls these “hidden state” deceptions.
So, when is deception immoral?
To go back to the first example, by not disclosing you used AI to tidy up meeting notes, you’ve allowed your colleague to believe you have the capacity to do the work, which might be true. However, you also allowed your colleague to believe that you demonstrated that capacity by doing the work, which is false. This would fall into the category of an “external state deception”.
While this deception is morally objectionable, it’s arguably ethically permissible. Trivial deceptions like this happen all the time – and surely we aren’t obligated to always disclose everything about what we do and why we do it.
For example, we don’t blink an eye at undisclosed use of spell-checking software because, in most situations, being a good speller isn’t important. But triviality depends on context. If someone used spell-checking software at a spelling bee, we might be less forgiving.
The scenario about the funeral speech is similar to the first scenario, but less trivial. Your belief over your mother’s friend’s superficial state – that they wish her well – may or may not be false. However, your belief over the external state of affairs – that the eulogy is a demonstration of those well-wishes – is certainly false.
This is more morally problematic. When we claim an AI-generated output as our own – and particularly one that aims to reflect something about ourselves – we signal to others that we not only endorse the output, but that we have authored it. In this case it matters to us that the friend is the source of the eulogy – and not AI. The external state deception is deceptive in a non-trival way.
We imply the output was directly caused by our thoughts, feelings or competencies. When we don’t disclose our use of AI, we deprive others of the kinds of information needed to form true beliefs about how the world is and how others are. This is wrong if people deserve to have such information.
However, the eulogy example can still show how not disclosing our use of AI can – all things considered – sometimes be permissible. Perhaps, for example, the friend was so wracked with grief, that having AI write the eulogy on their behalf was the only way for them to get the speech written in time for the funeral. So they endorsed the generated output as their own.
In such cases, not disclosing the use of AI may be permissible, even though still a morally objectionable kind of deception. This is because, like triviality in the first scenario, other reasons might sufficiently outweigh the wrongness of non-disclosure.
Using AI more ethically
So, how can people use generative AI more ethically?
If we are to avoid immorally deceiving others, we ought to disclose our use of it in non-trivial cases.
What makes undisclosed AI use non-trivial is malleable and context-dependent. It changes in response to social norms couched within particular social practices.
Being open about AI use gives others the opportunity to form more accurate beliefs about what we are communicating – and the internal states our communication demonstrates.
Siavosh Sahebi is supported by an Australian Government Research Training Program scholarship.
Thomas Montefiore receives funding from the Australian Government through the Australian Research Council.
The Australian government has launched its largest-ever lawsuit, suing American chemical giant 3M and its local subsidiary. The government is seeking A$2 billion in damages for the past and future cost of investigating and managing “forever chemicals” contamination from firefighting foams on almost 30 Defence sites.
The government alleges the company withheld internal testing that showed these foams did significant environmental damage. 3M has vowed to defend itself.
What’s interesting is the scope. State-owned facilities, such as public water utilities, are unlikely to be included. The case also avoids any mention of possible impacts on human health. This is at least in part because the impacts of forever chemicals are a live topic of scientific debate and inquiry.
What is the case based on?
Forever chemicals are properly known as PFAS, or per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances. They are also known as “forever chemicals” because they take a very long time to break down in the environment.
The Commonwealth case focuses on the use of PFAS-containing firefighting foams manufactured by 3M and used on Defence bases from the 1970s until the mid 2000s. These aqueous film-forming foams have been slowly phased out in Australia.
Several communities near affected Defence facilities have sued the Commonwealth, with class actions and other claims amounting to around $400 million in legal settlements.
Until now, the government hasn’t sought to recover these costs, but is doing so now to remediate the sites, pay out class actions and cover future remediation.
While full court documents are not yet public, multiple government statements and the court file suggest the claim is mainly based on the Australian Consumer Law.
The Commonwealth may argue 3M engaged in misleading or deceptive conduct by failing to disclose what it knew about the environmental risks of these firefighting foams.
In the United States, many state attorneys-general have sought to recover clean-up and monitoring costs from manufacturers allegedly promoting PFAS products as safe, despite knowing their risks.
How likely is a settlement?
While both sides appear to have adopted a firm public position committing to the case, this isn’t guaranteed. Large lawsuits like this frequently reach a settlement before trial.
This is because reaching a settlement allows parties to agree on compensation without a judicial finding of liability.
Australian courts encourage alternative dispute resolution, which can enable settlements and reduce costs and uncertainty, while allowing defendants to avoid formal findings of wrongdoing. Class actions against Defence have all settled before trial.
In the US, municipal governments and water authorities sued 3M and other PFAS manufacturers for selling products they knew would contaminate the environment, seeking payments to “help clean up the mess that they created”. These claims became part of a larger case.
Settlements have also been reached in personal injury litigation, including one against another manufacturer, DuPont, worth A$953 (US$670) million across 3,550 claims.
What’s in and what’s out of the case?
The proceedings have been framed as an effort to recover past and future costs from almost 30 Defence sites.
Yet PFAS contamination isn’t limited to these sites. Other sites of concern include state-operated firefighting facilities, industrial sites and public water supplies. This case is unlikely to directly address those locations.
It’s not clear whether any funds recovered would support measures sought by affected communities, such as routine blood testing or long-term medical monitoring. Residents of Katherine in the Northern Territory have questioned whether any potential settlement would compensate losses not covered by earlier class actions. Many civilian and military firefighters exposed to these PFAS foams for decades have not been involved in compensation schemes or major litigation.
Notably, the case doesn’t mention any possible effects on human health. Assistant Minister for Defence Peter Khalil has cited advice from health authorities that evidence of health impacts from forever chemicals remains limited.
In 2023, the cancer agency of the World Health Organization found one forever chemical, PFOA, was carcinogenic. But there are many different types of PFAS. The WHO is now conducting a systematic review of key PFAS compounds and health outcomes, such as cancer and reproductive toxicity.
The PFAS class actions against Defence similarly excluded personal injury claims, focusing instead on property, business and cultural losses. Even so, evidence about possible health effects was raised because contamination affected property values.
It will be interesting to see whether the Commonwealth can separate environmental contamination from health concerns, while maintaining its position that evidence of human health impacts remains limited.
PFAS contamination has affected almost 30 Defence sites, including NSW’s RAAF Williamtown base.Jungle Jack/Flickr, CC BY-NC-ND
What’s next?
If the lawsuit goes to a trial and the government succeeds in its claim, it would likely open the door to further claims against 3M by fire services, water suppliers and other affected groups.
This could also happen if the claim is settled out of court.
Cameron Holley receives funding from the Australian Research Council (DP260103099).
Carley Bartlett receives funding from the Australian Research Council (DP260103099). Her PhD was supported by an Australian Government Research Training Program scholarship.
On a midsummer day in Miami, temperatures can exceed 32°C with high humidity. In a full stadium of 65,000 fans, it can be several degrees hotter, posing a potential health risk to players.
These are the conditions some teams will endure at the 2026 FIFA World Cup in June-July, the hottest months across much of North America.
FIFA has already acknowledged the risk, introducing cooling breaks in each half of all matches for the first time at a World Cup.
But is this enough to protect players in the heat?
It’s not just the high temperatures
When we talk about heat stress in sport, we are not just referring to air temperature.
What matters for the human body is a combination of heat, humidity, solar radiation and airflow – often summarised by the “wet-bulb globe temperature” index, originally developed in the 1950s to curtail heat illness during military training.
Soccer presents a particular challenge under high wet-bulb globe temperature conditions. Elite players routinely cover 10-13 kilometres per match, repeatedly sprinting, decelerating and changing direction.
This produces substantial internal metabolic heat, while opportunities for heat loss are limited by clothing, match structure, restricted access to shade, airflow or other cooling technologies.
If heat production exceeds heat loss, core temperature rises. This places more strain on the cardiovascular system, elevates perceived effort, impacts performance and increases the risk of exertional heat illness, which can include ailments such as muscle cramps and heat exhaustion. At the extreme end, exertional heat stroke, a life-threatening medical emergency can develop.
What the forecasts show for 2026
Analyses of historical weather data across the 16 World Cup host cities indicate heat stress will be common, particularly for afternoon kick-offs in cities such as Dallas, Houston, Miami, Kansas City and Monterrey.
While some venues such as Dallas, Houston and Atlanta have retractable roofs that can modify temperature and airflow, most matches will be played in open-air stadiums, exposing players to heat stress.
Later kick-offs may only offer limited relief, especially in humid environments where sweat evaporation is impaired.
Until recently, most evidence on heat strain in professional soccer came from experimental simulations. Unpublished field-based research from our laboratory at the University of Canberra, measuring core temperature during real professional matches, provides insight into what players experience during competition.
Our data show that during competitive match-play:
average peak core temperature often exceeds 39°C, rising progressively before half-time or full-time
players’ peak core temperature can exceed 40°C even in conditions that would not traditionally trigger extreme heat policies and in some cases even when cooling breaks are applied.
Importantly, these observations were documented in elite Australian A-League players who are fit and seasonally heat-acclimatised.
Taken together, this shows elite soccer players can reach and sometimes exceed a 40°C core temperature during matches at wet-bulb globe temperatures that are already considered “high risk” for exertional heat illness.
Cooling breaks are a sensible and evidence-based safeguard and FIFA’s decision to mandate them in every match at the World Cup is a proactive step.
Cooling breaks – particularly when combined with cold fluid ingestion and ice towels – can lessen rises in core temperature, heart rate and perceived effort, especially in male players.
However, two important caveats remain.
First, cooling breaks do not prevent large rises in core temperature – they reduce the rate or magnitude of that rise. Even with breaks, players can still reach very high core temperatures.
Second, emerging evidence indicates cooling breaks affect women differently. Although women athletes generally reach lower absolute core temperatures than men during match-play, standard FIFA-style cooling breaks appear to provide smaller additional reductions in physiological strain.
Women get more benefits when in-play cooling breaks are combined with longer half-time breaks, which include cooling in air-conditioned spaces.
In short, universal cooling breaks may help but are unlikely to be sufficient on their own.
What are other sports doing?
Most heat policies in sport rely solely on environmental measures such as the wet-bulb globe temperature index. While useful, these metrics describe the weather, not the physiological strain experienced by players.
Several sports have begun to anchor heat policies to the predicted rise in core temperature, linking environmental conditions and sport specific characteristics – heat production and clothing – rather than relying on environmental conditions alone.
This approach focuses on the body’s ability to maintain thermal balance through sweating – something administrators may increasingly need to consider as matches are played in hotter and more humid conditions.
World Rugby uses a similar approach, but tailored to the sport’s demands and clothing worn, as does Sport Medicine Australia for a variety of recreational sports.
Timing matters, a lot
One of the most effective heat-mitigation strategies requires no ice, no towels and no new technology: avoid playing at the hottest time of day.
Afternoon kick-offs consistently produce the greatest thermal strain because they combine peak solar radiation with high air temperature. Evening matches reduce – but do not eliminate – risk, particularly in humid cities.
From a player safety perspective, match scheduling may be as important as in-game cooling strategies. Yet broadcast considerations have historically driven afternoon kick-offs at World Cups.
An ongoing problem
Heat stress is already being reported more frequently in domestic soccer leagues, continental tournaments and youth competitions.
Heat policies must keep pace with a warming climate.
Protecting player health will require earlier decisions, stronger mitigation strategies and a willingness to rethink when and how matches are played – not just at World Cups, but at all levels of the sport.
Julien Périard has previously received funding from Professional Footballers Australia (PFA), the International Federation of Professional Footballers (FIFPRO) and the Fédération Internationale de Football Association (FIFA).
Brad Clark has previously received funding from Professional Footballers Australia (PFA), the International Federation of Professional Footballers (FIFPRO) and the Fédération Internationale de Football Association (FIFA).
Harry Brown has previously received funding from Professional Footballers Australia (PFA), the International Federation of Professional Footballers (FIFPRO) and the Fédération Internationale de Football Association (FIFA).
Over the past few decades, researchers have developed effective treatments for post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), a psychiatric disorder some people develop after experiencing trauma. These treatments often involve talking through the trauma and understanding what happened with a therapist.
But most PTSD research is based on Western populations. Many treatments reflect Western values and ways of thinking valuing independence, agency and regaining personal control. These approaches do not work equally well for everyone.
This matters because many trauma survivors are not from Western cultural backgrounds. In Australia, more than 50% of people were born overseas or have a parent who was. This means that people may receive care that does not fully match how they understand their own experiences.
Culture shapes how people remember the past, make sense of their experience, and seek social support. These processes are also central to recovery from trauma. When treatment fits a person’s cultural background, it is more likely to be effective.
Everyone seems to be talking about trauma. Do we know more about it? Or has the meaning changed? In this five-part series, we explore the shifting definition of trauma, why talking about it doesn’t always help, and what else can work.
Why memory is key to recovery
The key symptom of PTSD is distressing and unwanted memories of the trauma. These flashbacks are vivid and overwhelming, and make people feel like they are re-living the trauma in the present.
People with PTSD may avoid reminders of what happened, struggle with sleep and concentration, and experience changes in mood.
This is why memory plays a central role in recovery. PTSD interventions typically focus on helping people process these trauma memories.
This might involve talking through the memory with a therapist in a safe and supported way, making sense of what happened, and exploring how the experience has shaped how the person feels about themselves and the world.
But culture influences how we remember trauma
Across cultures, telling stories about life experiences, including trauma, plays a central role in maintaining good mental health. But there can be cultural differences in how people with PTSD relate to and recount their experiences.
For example, Western culture is generally considered individualist, valuing personal independence, choice and control.
This is reflected in psychology research that prompts people to talk about memories that define their identity. Those from individualistic Western backgrounds – such as the United Kingdom, Australia and the United States – generally tend to discuss memories that centre on themselves as individuals, how they felt, and whether they had control over what happened.
When people from Western cultures have PTSD, trauma memories can become central to one’s identity focus, such as surviving a car accident. They also tend to give longer and more emotionally rich accounts of trauma.
These trauma memories then often become the focus of talking therapies for PTSD.
Trauma is not always an identity
In contrast, collectivist cultures, typical in many parts of Asia, Africa and the Middle East, tend to emphasise relationships, family, community and social harmony.
When talking about memories that define them, people from these backgrounds often downplay personal emotions and centre other people and social interactions.
They may not view trauma through a personal lens or as an individual experience, instead describing its impact on others, social roles and the community. Even those diagnosed with PTSD may not view trauma as central to their identity.
This means the most common one-on-one PTSD treatments, which focus on talking with a therapist about individual feelings and memories, may fundamentally misunderstand how people from non-Western backgrounds relate to experiences of trauma.
Making meaning after trauma
How a person makes meaning of their trauma can also influence their recovery. Are they trying to regain control over what happened, for example? Or are they aiming to accept the past and view challenges as part of life?
Many Western PTSD treatments focus on helping people feel more in control, capable of managing their trauma and current situation.
In our research with Asian Australians with PTSD, we found feeling a sense of personal control and agency may be less important for their recovery than other goals.
Rather, lower levels of PTSD symptoms were associated with an increased sense of acceptance of what happened, adapting to the current situation, staying connected to others, and seeing adversity as an opportunity for growth.
These goals may still be achieved in talk therapy with a psychologist. But treatment must be culturally-informed, reflecting these different beliefs and values.
When asking for support doesn’t help
The way people seek support after trauma can also affect recovery.
Among Western trauma survivors, research shows explicitly asking others for support and discussing the trauma – for example, calling a mental health service or a friend – can be beneficial.
However, in collectivist cultures this may be felt as burdening others, and increase a trauma survivor’s stress.
One study of Malaysian adults with PTSD showed explicitly asking others for help actually led to more distress. This can make it harder for some people to seek professional help or talk openly about their trauma. Expecting them to may not be culturally sensitive.
What else can help?
Some people from non-Western backgrounds may find implicit support, which means feeling supported simply by being around others, can be more beneficial than explicitly disclosing their trauma to others.
In practice, this might look like spending time with family, going for a walk with a friend, or being included in community activities such as sport, or cultural and religious events.
Spirituality is often overlooked in trauma recovery. But it can play an important role in helping people make meaning – for example, by understanding hardship as a test of faith, or feeling that patience will be rewarded by God. Among Muslim trauma survivors, studies link these kinds of beliefs with fewer PTSD symptoms.
Some research has also explored how Western “talk therapies” can incorporate spiritual approaches, such as the Qur'an or Buddhist teachings, rather than treating faith as separate from recovery.
There is no single way to heal from trauma. But it’s important to respect how culture shapes how people understand their experiences, seek support, and recover
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Laura Jobson receives funding from NHMRC, ARC and Wellcome Trust.
Xin Kie Lee does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
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