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Menopause is having a moment. How a new generation of women are shaping cultural attitudes

<a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/bridgette-glover-2232638">Bridgette Glover</a>, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-new-england-919">University of New England</a> From hot flashes to hysteria, <a href="https://rowman.com/ISBN/9780739170007/Periods-in-Pop-Culture-Menstruation-in-Film-and-Television">film and TV</a> have long represented menopause as scary, emotional and messy. Recently, celebrities have been sharing their personal menopause experiences on social media, helping to re-frame the conversation in popular culture. We are also seeing more stories about menopause on television, with real stories and depictions that show greater empathy for the person going through it. Menopause is having a moment. But will it help women? <h2>The change onscreen</h2> This is not what we’re used to seeing on our screens. Countless sitcoms, from All in the Family (1971–79) to Two and a Half Men (2003–15) have used the menopause madness trope for laughs. Retro sitcom That ‘70s Show (1998–2006) used mom Kitty’s menopause journey as comedic fodder for multiple episodes. When she mistakes a missed period for pregnancy, Kitty’s surprise menopause diagnosis results in an identity crisis alongside mood swings, hot flashes and irritability. But the audience is not meant to empathise. Instead, the focus is on how Kitty’s menopause impacts the men in her family. Having to navigate Kitty’s symptoms, her veteran husband likens the experience to war: “I haven’t been this frosty since Korea”. <figure><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/mPLJBZiKV4U?wmode=transparent&start=0" width="440" height="260" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe></figure> Even when male characters are not directly involved, women are determined to reject menopause because they see it as a marker of age that signals a loss of desirability and social worth. In Sex and the City (1998–2004), Samantha describes herself as “day-old bread” when she presumes her late period signifies menopause. This is a popular framing of menopause in <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/14680777.2018.1409969">post-feminist TV</a> of the 1990s and early 2000s. While the <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/14680777.2012.712373#d1e783">menstruating body</a> is constructed as uncontrollable and in need of management, the menopausal body requires management and maintenance to reject signals of collapse. These storylines erase the genuine experiences of confusion, discomfort and transformation that come with menopause. <h2>A cultural moment arrives</h2> <a href="https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2015/12/31/460726461/why-2015-was-the-year-of-the-period-and-we-dont-mean-punctuation">Since 2015</a>, stories of menstruation have increased in popular culture. Series like comedy Broad City (2014–19) and comedy-drama Better Things (2016–22) directly call out the lack of menopause representations. When Abbi in Broad City admits she “totally forgot about menopause”, a woman responds “Menopause isn’t represented in mainstream media. Like, no one wants to talk about it”. Similarly, in Better Things, while watching her three daughters stare at the TV Sam laments: “No one wants to hear about it, which is why nobody ever prepared you for it”. And lack of preparation becomes a key theme for perimenopausal Charlotte in the Sex and the City reboot, And Just Like That … (2021–) when she has a “flash period”. <figure><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9AmwXuHo-2w?wmode=transparent&start=0" width="440" height="260" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe></figure> Fleabag (2016–19) included a groundbreaking monologue about menopause delivered by Kristen Scott-Thomas, playing a successful businesswoman. She describes menopause as “horrendous, but then it’s magnificent”. <blockquote> […] your entire pelvic floor crumbles, and you get fucking hot, and no one cares. But then you’re free. No longer a slave. No longer a machine with parts. </blockquote> <figure><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/RZrnHnASRV8?wmode=transparent&start=13" width="440" height="260" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe></figure> Scripted by Phoebe Waller-Bridge, this <a href="https://www.latimes.com/entertainment/la-et-menopause-20190524-story.html">celebrated</a> monologue critiques the post-feminist notion of striving to be the “<a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/14680777.2012.712373#d1e783">idealised feminine body</a>”. Through this new feminist lens, menopause is acknowledged as both painful – physically and emotionally – and necessary for liberation. <h2>Today’s menopause on screen</h2> Alongside more recent series like The Change (2023), multiple documentaries including <a href="https://www.tamsenfadal.com/the-m-factor">The (M) Factor</a> (2024), and <a href="https://theconversation.com/there-is-no-future-for-ageing-women-how-the-substance-uses-body-horror-in-a-feminist-critique-239729">arguably</a> even films like The Substance (2024), social media has become a prolific space for raising awareness about menopause. Celebrities use social media to share tales of perimenopause and menopause, often in real time. Last year, actor Drew Barrymore experienced her “first perimenopausal hot flash” during her talk show. And ABC News Breakfast guest host, Imogen Crump, had to pause her news segment, saying <blockquote> I could keep stumbling through, but I’m having such a perimenopausal hot flush right now, live on air. </blockquote> Both Barrymore and Crump shared clips of their live segments to their social media pages, to challenge stigma and create conversations. Crump even posted to <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/posts/imogen-crump-6b74b726_perimenopause-activity-7127788484861300736-mhHh/">LinkedIn</a> to raise awareness in a professional setting. In a podcast interview clip shared to Instagram, writer and skincare founder, Zoë Foster Blake describes perimenopause as a “real mental health thing”, because of the lack of awareness. Recalling conversations with other perimenopausal women, Foster Blake says “We all think we’re crazy. We don’t know what the fuck is going on”. Feeling “crazy” is a constant theme in these conversations. As actor and <a href="https://stripesbeauty.com/pages/founder-story">menopause awareness advocate</a> Naomi Watts points out, this is largely thanks to Hollywood. Despite the stigmatising media stereotype of “crazy lady that shouts”, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TQ3BN9rS_7g">Watts argues</a> that with “support and community”, women experiencing perimenopause and menopause “can thrive”. In fact, Watts believes menopause should be celebrated: “we know ourselves better, we’re wiser for our cumulative experiences”. Medical professionals like American doctors <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/DBUCPW5OUTf/">Marie Clare Haver</a> and <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/C7IfaHDgXMY/">Corinne Menn</a> have been well-positioned to share their expertise and experiences via social media. They are catching and helping fuel a wave of advocacy and awareness for midlife women’s health. <h2>Building community</h2> After watching the menopause madness trope on our screens for decades, we are now seeing perimenopause and menopause depicted with more empathy. These depictions allow viewers – those who menstruate, who have menstruated, and who know menstruators – to feel seen and be informed. By sharing their experiences on social media and adding to these new screen stories, celebrities are building a community that makes the menopausal journey less lonely and helps those on it remember their worth.<img style="border: none !important; box-shadow: none !important; margin: 0 !important; max-height: 1px !important; max-width: 1px !important; min-height: 1px !important; min-width: 1px !important; opacity: 0 !important; outline: none !important; padding: 0 !important;" src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/241784/count.gif?distributor=republish-lightbox-basic" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" /> <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/bridgette-glover-2232638">Bridgette Glover</a>, PhD Candidate in Media and Communications, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-new-england-919">University of New England</a> Image credits: Shutterstock This article is republished from <a href="https://theconversation.com">The Conversation</a> under a Creative Commons license. Read the <a href="https://theconversation.com/menopause-is-having-a-moment-how-a-new-generation-of-women-are-shaping-cultural-attitudes-241784">original article</a>.

Body

Readers response: What’s the most interesting cultural experience you've had while travelling?

When travelling abroad, we are often exposed to new and fascinating cultures that can open our eyes to different ways of life. We asked our readers to share the most interesting cultural experience they've had while travelling, and the response was overwhelming. Here's what they said. Sandra Beckett - Staying overnight in a Ger in Mongolia miles from anywhere, listening to Throat singing accompanied by two traditionally dressed musicians playing Horsehead fiddles. Also, travelling across Russia by train, visiting the Galapagos islands, Skara Brae in the Orkneys, the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul. Denise Ryan - Listening to glorious classical music played in Havana’s Plaza de la Catedral and attending a stunning performance of Swan Lake in the Grand Theatre of Havana. Deedee Cullum - Visiting Ypres in Belgium and staying the night so we could see the evening ceremony at the Menin gate. Alison Davenport - 50 years ago visiting a Fijian village made me realise everyone didn't live like I did. Have been amazed at all travel experiences since. Glenn Turton - Staying in a farmhouse in Normandy for a week. Visiting D-Day beaches and Mont St Michel from there and local villages and markets on the days between. Back to the farmhouse each night to cook local produce and sit by an open fire. Karen Psaila - Sitting in a small ally sipping black sweet tea in Egypt looking at the pyramids and sphinx whilst camels are strolling by. Amazing. Patricia Watson - Darwin. Spending a day with First Nation Women and Children in the bush and learning about food that grows and is edible in that area. James Langabeer - This are my three top three most interesting cultural experiences. 1. Japan's Tea Ceremony: Attending a traditional tea ceremony in Kyoto, Japan, where I learned about the intricate rituals and Zen Buddhism's influence. 2. Indian Holi Festival: Celebrating Holi, the Festival of Colors, in Mumbai, India, surrounded by vibrant colors, music, and joyful locals. 3. Moroccan Hammam: Experiencing a traditional Moroccan bathhouse (hammam) in Marrakech, where I discovered local customs and relaxation techniques. Margaret Mason - Staying for a couple of days in a small, traditional village in China. Image credits: Shutterstock

International Travel

Readers response: Have you ever experienced culture shock while travelling? How did you handle it?

When it comes to travelling abroad, it's not uncommon to experience culture shocks as part of your holiday. Travelling to unique corners of the globe can often come with stumbling onto potentially uncomfortable and unusual situations. We asked our readers if they have ever experiences culture shocks and how they handled them, and the response was overwhelming. Here's what they said. Alison Mahoney - Yes, in the mid 60s got fined for kissing my boyfriend in the street in Athens. How things have changed. Margaret Godfrey - Yes, First time I went to Vietnam - from Hobart. The heat, the sheer number of people just outside the airport door, being grabbed by stall holders in Ben Thanh Market and pulled into their stalls with "You Buy". Had a good cry later in my hotel, then a cup of tea with another woman on tour. After going to dinner with rest of group, got over myself & thoroughly enjoyed the trip. Val Beale - Cambodia was a culture shock for me. Lovely people but so much poverty. Felt overwhelmed. So glad I went though. Jim Janush - Yes, the first time I went to South America, though not the first country there I was visiting. It was in the second country I had trouble accepting how different it was to what I was used to, the strange, backwards manner of simple organisation, almost everything. It grew on me, and after a few days it felt normal, and now it doesn’t feel anywhere near as bad. But the first couple of days were horrific. Bruce Hopkins - On a USA Holiday, we took a Day Bus Trip from San Diego to Tijuana, what reality check it was seeing the Mexican/USA Border. Judi Tracey - Definitely when l went into the Grand Bazaar in Turkey. It was full of males, drinking coffee, smoking and googling at women. I never felt so uncomfortable and concerned for my safety if a fire broke out!! I couldn’t leave quick enough. Kristeen Bon - Bali. Went 25 years ago and hated it…..the heat, the constant harassment, the food, everything. Went back last year thinking maybe things had changed…..nope, still too bloody hot, locals still harassing you, streets, shops and resorts falling apart……..not even a single comfortable chair on one of the island resorts. Image credits: Shutterstock

Travel Trouble

Vale ‘sister suffragette’: how Glynis Johns became a pop-culture icon in the story of votes for women

<a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/ana-stevenson-196768">Ana Stevenson</a>, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-southern-queensland-1069">University of Southern Queensland</a> and <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/lindsay-helwig-1500979">Lindsay Helwig</a>, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-southern-queensland-1069">University of Southern Queensland</a> Glynis Johns, most famous for her role as the suffragette mother Mrs Winifred Banks in Disney’s Mary Poppins (1964), passed away last week at the age of 100. A fourth-generation performer who made her <a href="https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1991-04-17-ca-126-story.html">stage debut</a> in London when she was only three weeks old, Johns inherited her Welsh father’s love of acting. She appeared with him in The Halfway House (1944) and The Sundowners (1960) and argued for the establishment of a Welsh National Theatre <a href="https://twitter.com/huwthomas/status/791367871242862592">as early as 1971</a>. Johns’s career spanned eight decades in Hollywood, Broadway and the British stage and screen. As Palm Springs’s Desert Sun <a href="https://cdnc.ucr.edu/?a=d&d=DS19630426.2.50">reported</a> in 1962, her “husky voice and big blue eyes” were her hallmarks. But it was her portrayal of Mrs Banks in Mary Poppins which would make her a pop culture icon. <h2>A childhood inspiration</h2> Feminist activists and scholars often describe the Mrs Banks character as a childhood inspiration. As feminist communications scholar Amanda Firestone <a href="https://www.google.com.au/books/edition/Resist_and_Persist/s5HiDwAAQBAJ">reflects</a> on the film: "I especially loved […] Mrs Banks (Glynis Johns), who marches around the family home, putting Votes for Women sashes onto the housekeeper, cook, and the (departing) nanny. Of course, as a kid, I had no idea that the people and events embedded in the song’s lyrics were actual parts of history, but I did find a kind of joy in a vague notion of women’s empowerment." Set in 1910, the symbolism associated with Mrs Banks references the history of the British suffragettes. Johns’ musical showstopper, Sister Suffragette, directly refers to <a href="https://www.thehistorypress.co.uk/articles/the-pankhursts-politics-protest-and-passion/">Emmeline Pankhurst</a>, who founded the militant Women’s Social and Political Union in 1903. In 1906 British newspapers <a href="https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859007003239">coined</a> the moniker “suffragette” to mock the union. <figure><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/K0SDECwO54E?wmode=transparent&start=0" width="440" height="260" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe></figure> This ambivalence continued into the 1960s. Historian Laura E. Nym Mayhall <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/4316653">argues</a> that American concern over the impact of women’s public roles on their domestic responsibilities influenced the film’s depiction of Mrs Banks, especially her movement from a public suffragette back into an involved mother at the film’s end. For Mayhall, the figure of the suffragette emerges in popular culture as “a symbol of modernity”: a harbinger of democracy and political progress whose characterisation would elide ongoing struggles such as the civil rights movement. <figure class="align-right zoomable"><a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/568335/original/file-20240108-23-tf6kwm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/568335/original/file-20240108-23-tf6kwm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/568335/original/file-20240108-23-tf6kwm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=949&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/568335/original/file-20240108-23-tf6kwm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=949&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/568335/original/file-20240108-23-tf6kwm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=949&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/568335/original/file-20240108-23-tf6kwm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1193&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/568335/original/file-20240108-23-tf6kwm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1193&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/568335/original/file-20240108-23-tf6kwm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1193&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" alt="" /></a><figcaption>This 1909 Dunston Weiler Lithograph Co. anti-suffrage postcard offers resonances of Mrs Banks and her household staff in Mary Poppins. <a class="source" href="https://thesuffragepostcardproject.omeka.net/items/show/44">Catherine H. Palczewski Postcard Archive/The Suffrage Postcard Project</a></figcaption></figure> While some see the character of the suffragette mother as <a href="https://www.google.com.au/books/edition/Mary_Poppins/BLujEAAAQBAJ">supporting</a> women’s votes during the 1910s and women’s liberation during the 1960s, other readings of the film suggest a more satirical representation of the suffrage movement. Some historians even find <a href="https://doi.org/10.1215/02705346-6923118">resonances</a> of anti-suffrage propaganda in Mrs Banks, including in her usage of her Votes for Women sash as the tail of a kite in the film’s final scene. Looking back at film reviews offers insight into how audiences received this character – and, by extension, Johns as an actor. American studies scholar Lori Kenschaft <a href="https://books.google.com.au/books/about/Girls_Boys_Books_Toys.html?id=Or13vhnA_W4C">suggests</a> that film critics who saw Mrs Banks as a “nutty suffragette mother” reiterated popular stereotypes about suffragettes and feminists being “mentally unbalanced”. Such stereotypes may have been reinforced by the film’s depiction of motherhood and the nuclear family. Involved parenting emerged as the bedrock of the 1960s nuclear family, an idea both supported and actively promoted by Walt Disney in both his films and his theme parks, as <a href="https://www.google.com.au/books/edition/Children_Childhood_and_Musical_Theater/XHrRDwAAQBAJ">argued</a> by American musicologist William A. Everett. As Mrs Banks, Johns embodied the transition from the distant, uninvolved parenting of the British middle-class in the earlier 20th century to the involved mother who facilitated the stable nuclear family. As women’s studies scholar Anne McLeer <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/4316893">argues</a>, Mary Poppins, through Johns’ portrayal of Mrs Banks, demonstrated the liberated woman of the 1960s could be contained within the nuclear family: the bedrock for a Western capitalist economy. <h2>A long career</h2> Beyond Mary Poppins, her most prominent role was in Stephen Sondheim’s Broadway musical A Little Night Music (1973). Johns originated the character of ageing actress Desiree Armfeldt, becoming the first to sing Send in the Clowns. As she <a href="https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1991-04-17-ca-126-story.html">reflected</a> of the classic in 1991: "It’s still part of me. And when you’ve got a song like Send in the Clowns, it’s timeless." Sondheim composed this song with Johns’s famously husky voice in mind. Yet some were less enamoured with her performance. One 1973 theatre critic <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/3850619">described</a> Johns as “a now somewhat overage tomboy, kittenish and raspy-voiced, precise and amusing in her delivery of lines but utterly, utterly unseductive.” <figure><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/OAl-EawVobY?wmode=transparent&start=0" width="440" height="260" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe></figure> A veteran of stage and screen, Johns appeared in more than 60 films and 30 plays. In 1998, she was honoured with a Disney Legends Award for her role as Mrs Banks. Johns also received critical acclaim throughout her career, including a Laurel Award for Mary Poppins and a Tony Award and Drama Desk Award for A Little Night Music. Regardless of how incongruous her status as a “<a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2024-01-05/glynis-johns-mary-poppins-send-in-the-clowns/103287036">Disney feminist icon</a>” may be, Johns’s extraordinary influence upon the 20th century’s cultural memory is a remarkable legacy. <img style="border: none !important; box-shadow: none !important; margin: 0 !important; max-height: 1px !important; max-width: 1px !important; min-height: 1px !important; min-width: 1px !important; opacity: 0 !important; outline: none !important; padding: 0 !important;" src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/220766/count.gif?distributor=republish-lightbox-basic" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" /> <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/ana-stevenson-196768">Ana Stevenson</a>, Senior Lecturer, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-southern-queensland-1069">University of Southern Queensland</a> and <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/lindsay-helwig-1500979">Lindsay Helwig</a>, Lecturer in Pathways, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-southern-queensland-1069">University of Southern Queensland</a> Image credits: Disney This article is republished from <a href="https://theconversation.com">The Conversation</a> under a Creative Commons license. Read the <a href="https://theconversation.com/vale-sister-suffragette-how-glynis-johns-became-a-pop-culture-icon-in-the-story-of-votes-for-women-220766">original article</a>.

Caring

2001: A Space Odyssey still leaves an indelible mark on our culture 55 years on

<a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/nathan-abrams-122305">Nathan Abrams</a>, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/bangor-university-1221">Bangor University</a> 2001: A Space Odyssey is a landmark film in the history of cinema. It is a work of extraordinary imagination that has transcended film history to become something of a cultural marker. And since 1968, it has penetrated the psyche of not only other filmmakers but society in general. It is not an exaggeration to say that 2001 single-handedly reinvented the science fiction genre. The visuals, music and themes of 2001 left an inedible mark on subsequent science fiction that is still evident today. When <a href="https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Kubrick/Robert-P-Kolker/9781639366248">Stanley Kubrick</a> began work on 2001 in the mid-1960s, he was told by studio executive Lew Wasserman: “Kid, you don’t spend over a million dollars on science fiction movies. You just don’t do that.” By that point, the golden age of science fiction film had run its course. During its heyday, there was a considerable variety of content within the overarching genre. There had been serious attempts to foretell space travel. Destination Moon, directed by Irving Pichel and produced by George Pal in 1950, and, in mid-century, Byron Haskin’s Conquest of Space both fantasised space travel and, in Haskin’s film, a space station, which Kubrick would elaborate on in 2001. <figure><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/oR_e9y-bka0?wmode=transparent&start=0" width="440" height="260" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe><figcaption>The trailer for 2001: A Space Odyssey.</figcaption></figure> Most 1950s science fiction films, though, were cheap B-movie fare and looked it. They involved alien invasions with an ideological and allegorical subtext. They were cultural, cinematic imaginations of the danger of communism, which in the overheated political atmosphere of the time was seen as an imminent threat to the American way of life. The aliens in most science fiction films were out simply to destroy or take over humanity; they were expressions, to use the title of a Susan Sontag essay, of “<a href="https://americanfuturesiup.files.wordpress.com/2013/01/sontag-the-imagination-of-disaster.pdf">the imagination of disaster</a>”. There were some exceptions, including Byron Haskin’s film version of The War of the Worlds and Robert Wise’s The Day the Earth Stood Still. By 1968, then, as the lights went down, very few people knew what was about to transpire and they certainly were not prepared for what did. The film opened in near darkness as the strains of Thus Spake Zarathustra by Richard Strauss were heard. The cinema was dazzled into light, as if Kubrick had <a href="https://www.rutgersuniversitypress.org/stanley-kubrick/9780813587110">remade Genesis</a>. The subsequent 160 or so minutes (the length of his original cut before he edited 19 minutes out of it) took the viewer on what was marketed as “the ultimate trip”. Kubrick had excised almost every element of explanation leaving an elusive, ambiguous and thoroughly unclear film. His decisions contributed to long silent scenes, offered without elucidation. It contributed to the film’s almost immediate critical failure but its ultimate success. It was practically a silent movie. 2001 was an experiment in film form and content. It exploded the conventional narrative form, restructuring the conventions of the three-act drama. The narrative was linear, but radically, spanning aeons and ending in a timeless realm, all without a conventional movie score. Kubrick used 19th-century and modernist music, such as Strauss, György Ligeti and Aram Khachaturian. <h2>Vietnam</h2> The movie was made during a tumultuous period of American history, which it seemingly ignored. The war in Vietnam was already a highly divisive issue and was spiralling into a crisis. The <a href="https://www.britannica.com/topic/Tet-Offensive">Tet offensive</a>, which began on January 31 1968, had claimed tens of thousands of lives. As US involvement in Vietnam escalated, domestic unrest and violence at home intensified. Increasingly, young Americans expected their artists to address the chaos that roared around them. But in exploring the origins of humanity’s propensity for violence and its future destiny, 2001 dealt with the big questions and ones that were burning at the time of its release. They fuelled what Variety magazine called the “coffee cup debate” over “what the film means”, which is still ongoing today. The design of the film has touched many other films. Silent Running by Douglas Trumbull (who worked on 2001’s special effects) owes the most obvious debt but Star Wars would be also unthinkable without it. Popular culture is full of imagery from the film. The <a href="https://faroutmagazine.co.uk/stanley-kubrick-2001-a-space-odyssey-music/">music</a> Kubrick used in the film, especially Strauss’s The Blue Danube, is now considered <a href="https://theweek.com/articles/702734/planetarium-brief-history-space-music">“space music”</a>. Images from the movie have appeared <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kfK9pEQZyy0">in iPhone adverts</a>, in The Simpsons and even the trailer for the new <a href="https://metro.co.uk/2022/12/16/trailer-for-greta-gerwigs-barbie-spoofs-classic-film-in-best-way-17951854/">Barbie movie</a>. <figure><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/8zIf0XvoL9Y?wmode=transparent&start=0" width="440" height="260" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe><figcaption>2001: A Space Odyssey’s influence on this Barbie movie trailer couldn’t be more obvious.</figcaption></figure> The warnings of the danger of technology embodied in the film’s murderous supercomputer HAL-9000 can be felt in the “tech noir” films of the late 1970s and 1980s, such as Westworld, <a href="https://theconversation.com/how-alien-mutated-from-a-sci-fi-horror-film-into-a-multimedia-universe-204567">Alien</a>, Blade Runner and Terminator. HAL’s single red eye can be seen in the children’s series, Q Pootle 5, and Pixar’s animated feature, Wall-E. HAL has become shorthand for the untrammelled march of artificial intelligence (AI). In the age of ChatGPT and other AI, the metaphor of Kubrick’s computer is <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/02/22/movies/ai-movies-microsoft-bing-robots.html">frequently evoked</a>. But why when there have been so many other images such as Frankenstein, Prometheus, terminators and other murderous cyborgs? Because there is something so uncanny and human about HAL who was deliberately designed to be more <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/01439685.2017.1342328?journalCode=chjf20">empathic and human than the people in the film</a>. In making 2001, Stanley Kubrick created a cultural phenomenon that continues to speak to us eloquently today.<img style="border: none !important; box-shadow: none !important; margin: 0 !important; max-height: 1px !important; max-width: 1px !important; min-height: 1px !important; min-width: 1px !important; opacity: 0 !important; outline: none !important; padding: 0 !important;" src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/209152/count.gif?distributor=republish-lightbox-basic" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" /> <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/nathan-abrams-122305">Nathan Abrams</a>, Professor of Film Studies, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/bangor-university-1221">Bangor University</a> Image credits: Getty Images This article is republished from <a href="https://theconversation.com">The Conversation</a> under a Creative Commons license. Read the <a href="https://theconversation.com/2001-a-space-odyssey-still-leaves-an-indelible-mark-on-our-culture-55-years-on-209152">original article</a>.

Movies

Female artists earn less than men. Coming from a diverse cultural background incurs even more of a penalty – but there is good news, too

Artists all over the world, regardless of their gender, earn <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/handbook/handbook-of-the-economics-of-art-and-culture">considerably less</a> than professionals in occupations requiring similar levels of education and qualifications. But there’s an additional income penalty for artists who are female. In an analysis of gender differences in the incomes of professional artists in Australia that <a href="https://australiacouncil.gov.au/advocacy-and-research/the-gender-pay-gap-among-australian-artists/">we undertook in 2020</a>, we found the creative incomes of women were 30% less than those of men. This is true even after allowing for differences in such things as hours worked, education and training, time spent in childcare and so on. This income penalty on women artists was greater than the gender pay gap of 16% experienced in the overall Australian workforce at the time. <a href="https://theconversation.com/screen-australia-celebrates-its-work-in-gender-equality-but-things-are-far-from-equal-122266">Some sectors</a> of the arts have tried to redress this problem. However, women continue to suffer serious and unexplained gender-based discrimination in the artistic workplace. Cultural differences are <a href="https://www.nber.org/papers/w27725">also known</a> to influence pay gaps in many countries. In new research <a href="https://australiacouncil.gov.au/advocacy-and-research/culture-and-the-gender-pay-gap-for-australian-artists">out today</a>, we considered whether cultural factors might also affect the gender pay gap of artists in Australia. In addition, we analysed the gender pay gap for remote Indigenous artists for the first time. <h2>A larger gap for women from a non-English speaking background</h2> In our <a href="https://australiacouncil.gov.au/advocacy-and-research/making-art-work/">2016 survey of 826 professional artists</a> working in metropolitan, regional and rural Australia, we asked participants if they came from a non-English speaking background. Only a relatively small proportion of artists – 10% – came from a non-English-speaking background, compared to 18% for the Australian labour force as a whole. A non-English-speaking background appears to carry an income penalty only for women artists, not for men. We found the annual creative earnings of female artists from a non-English-speaking background are about 71% of the creative incomes of female artists whose first language is English. But there is little difference between the corresponding incomes of male artists. Within the group of artists from language backgrounds other than English, the annual creative earnings of female artists are about half (53%) those of their male counterparts. By contrast, the ratio of female to male creative earnings among English-speaking background artists is 73%. These results suggest that women artists from a non-English-speaking background suffer a triple earnings penalty – from being an artist (and hence as a group earning less than comparable professionals), from their gender, and from their cultural background. Despite this earnings disadvantage, 63% of artists who identified as having a first language other than English thought their background had a positive impact on their artistic practice. Only 16% thought it had a negative impact. When artists were asked whether being from a non-English speaking background was a restricting factor in their professional artistic development, 17% of women answered “yes”, compared to only 5% of men from a similar background. Nevertheless, like their male colleagues, these women artists continue to celebrate their cultural background in their art. They contribute to the increasingly multicultural content of the arts in Australia, holding up a mirror to trends in Australian society at large. <h2>No gender gap in remote Indigenous communities</h2> For First Nations artists working in remote communities, a different picture emerges. For this research, we used results for remote communities in three regions of northern Australia drawn from our <a href="https://apo.org.au/node/257301">National Survey of Remote Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Artists</a>. The gender gap is not replicated among remotely practising First Nations artists. There are some minor variations in this finding for subgroups in different regions, depending in part on differences in the mix of visual and performing artists in the population. But whatever other differentials may exist between female and male earnings, they do not appear to be attributable to the sorts of systemic gender-based discrimination that affects the residual gender gap for other Australian artists. A possible reason relates to fundamental differences between the cultural norms, values and inherited traditions that apply in remote and very remote First Nations communities. Gender roles in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities have been <a href="https://anthrosource.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1525/can.1992.7.2.02a00020">described</a> by researchers as distinctively different, rather than superior or inferior. The importance of both women and men as bearers of culture has been clearly articulated. The unique cultural content of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander music, dance, visual art and literature is an essential feature of the work of these artists. These characteristics pass through to the marketplace, and there does not appear to be any obvious gender gap in the way the art from these remote communities is received. There is always differentiation between the art produced in different remote regions of Australia which varies depending on the complexities of different inherited cultural traditions. But there is no indication of any gender-based discrimination associated with these regional differences. Image credits: Getty Images This article originally appeared on <a href="https://theconversation.com/female-artists-earn-less-than-men-coming-from-a-diverse-cultural-background-incurs-even-more-of-a-penalty-but-there-is-good-news-too-195646" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Conversation</a>.

Art

When it comes to music, not all cultures share the same emotional associations

<div class="copy"> Most of us have deep emotional reactions to <a href="https://cosmosmagazine.com/science/physics/recent-musical-research-of-note/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener" data-type="URL" data-id="https://cosmosmagazine.com/science/physics/recent-musical-research-of-note/">music</a>, which is <a href="https://cosmosmagazine.com/people/culture/music-really-is-a-universal-language/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener" data-type="URL" data-id="https://cosmosmagazine.com/people/culture/music-really-is-a-universal-language/">a central part of human cultures</a> around the world. But our ideas about what makes music sound happy or sad are not universal, suggests <a href="https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0269597" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">new research</a> published today in PLoS One. The Australian-led study mainly focused on differences in people’s emotional perceptions of music in major and minor keys. In Western cultures, music in a major key is almost universally perceived as happy, and music in a minor key as sad. Transposing a melody from major to minor seems to instantly introduce a mournful or ominous feel, as demonstrated by this rendition of the “Happy birthday” song. <figure class="wp-block-embed is-type-video is-provider-youtube wp-block-embed-youtube wp-embed-aspect-16-9 wp-has-aspect-ratio"> <div class="wp-block-embed__wrapper"> <div class="entry-content-asset"> <div class="embed-wrapper"> <div class="inner"><iframe title="Happy Birthday in C Minor" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ipyVmkcUXPM?feature=oembed" width="500" height="281" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe></div> </div> </div> </div> </figure> However, the study found that these emotional associations were not shared by some remote communities in Papua New Guinea (PNG) who had little exposure to Western music. “The most important finding of the study is that the degree of familiarity with major and minor music plays a large role in people attributing happiness to major and sadness to minor,” says Eline Smit, who led the study as part of her PhD at Western Sydney University. For the new study, Smit and her colleagues investigated emotional associations of major and minor keys in people living in Sydney and in several villages in Uruwa River Valley in PNG. The valley is only accessible via small plane or multi-day hike, and the villages have similar musical traditions but varying levels of exposure to Western-style music. The researchers played various recordings pairing one major and one minor melody or cadence (a series of chords) to the participants, who were asked to indicate which tune made them feel happy. <div style="position: relative; display: block; max-width: 100%;"> <div style="padding-top: 56.25%;"><iframe style="position: absolute; top: 0px; right: 0px; bottom: 0px; left: 0px; width: 100%; height: 100%;" src="https://players.brightcove.net/5483960636001/HJH3i8Guf_default/index.html?videoId=6308675222112" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe></div> </div> An example of a recording played to research participants in the study. The musical samples are preceded by the word “ingguk” (one) or “yoi” (two). In this example, the first music sample is in a major key and the second in a minor key. <a href="https://osf.io/c3e9y/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener" data-type="URL" data-id="https://osf.io/c3e9y/">Media courtesy Eline Smit</a>. “Western listeners and the PNG groups exposed to Western music were more likely to say the major cadence or melody was the happy one,” Smit explains. That is, these groups were likely to say that the first melody in the example above sounded happy. “However, the PNG group with minimal exposure to Western music showed no preference for choosing major as the happy cadence or melody,” Smit continues. “They were just as likely to choose the minor version.” <div style="position: relative; display: block; max-width: 100%;"> <div style="padding-top: 56.25%;"><iframe style="position: absolute; top: 0px; right: 0px; bottom: 0px; left: 0px; width: 100%; height: 100%;" src="https://players.brightcove.net/5483960636001/HJH3i8Guf_default/index.html?videoId=6308677000112" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe></div> </div> Another example of a recording from the study. In this example, the first music sample is in a minor key and the second in a major key. <a href="https://osf.io/c3e9y/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener" data-type="URL" data-id="https://osf.io/c3e9y/">Media courtesy Eline Smit</a>. Smit, who is also a trained classical pianist, became interested in <a href="https://cosmosmagazine.com/people/social-sciences/musical-instruments-can-mimic-speech/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener" data-type="URL" data-id="https://cosmosmagazine.com/people/social-sciences/musical-instruments-can-mimic-speech/">the relationship between music and emotions</a> during her PhD. Her research focuses on people’s emotional responses to unfamiliar musical systems. “This study has shown some more insight into the role of the degree of familiarity on having particular emotional responses to music, but this does not mean that there are not any universal responses,” she says. “For the future, it would be interesting to further disentangle the impact of prior exposure and familiarity on responses to music.” Image credits: Getty Images  <img id="cosmos-post-tracker" style="opacity: 0; height: 1px!important; width: 1px!important; border: 0!important; position: absolute!important; z-index: -1!important;" src="https://syndication.cosmosmagazine.com/?id=196349&title=When+it+comes+to+music%2C+not+all+cultures+share+the+same+emotional+associations" width="1" height="1" data-spai-target="src" data-spai-orig="" data-spai-exclude="nocdn" /> </div> <div id="contributors"> This article was originally published on <a href="https://cosmosmagazine.com/people/emotional-reactions-to-music-cultural/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">cosmosmagazine.com</a> and was written by Matilda Handsley-Davis. </div>

Music

Democracy spreads in waves – but shared cultural history might matter more than geography

Recent events like the war in Ukraine, conflicts over Taiwan and the rise of authoritarian ideology have renewed interest in the foundations of modern democracy. They have raised questions about why some nations are more democratic than others, and how democratic institutions, freedoms and values are spread or lost. We tend to think of this variation in terms of geography – democratic Western Europe or autocratic Middle East. But in a <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/evolutionary-human-sciences/article/shared-cultural-ancestry-predicts-the-global-diffusion-of-democracy/90C7A170B924FC305DD66FF8853799FC" target="_blank" rel="noopener">new analysis of 220 years of political data</a>, we show that deep cultural connections between countries such as shared linguistic or religious ancestry matter more than geography. <h2>Waves of democratisation</h2> The emergence of modern democracy coincides with the rise of nation states in Europe at the beginning of the 19th century. Democracy spread across European nations and their colonies, over <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Third_Wave:_Democratization_in_the_Late_Twentieth_Century" target="_blank" rel="noopener">three waves</a>. The first wave lasted about a century, from 1828 to 1926, halting after the first world war. A second, rapid wave (1945-1962) followed the second world war and decolonisation. The third wave began in 1974 and continues today. It encompassed political transitions and new countries in Europe, Latin America and the Pacific. Each wave was followed by a period of reversals when nations turned to autocratic regimes, junta or fascism. Indeed, some researchers speculate we are heading into <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/13510347.2019.1582029" target="_blank" rel="noopener">another period of reversal</a>. <h2>What drives modern democracy?</h2> Scholars traditionally considered factors internal to a country – economic growth, rates of education or the natural environment – as the drivers of these waves. However, the geographic clustering of democracy and the wave-like pattern of expansion suggest the process may also involve a kind of contagion where democracy passes from one nation to another. One explanation for this is that democratic change spreads across borders, so that neighbouring countries end up with similar levels of democracy. Culture provides another explanation. Neighbouring countries tend to share a common cultural heritage, such as related languages or religions. This shapes national institutions, norms and values. In our research, we tested the idea that common cultural ancestry explains variation and change in democracy around the globe. We brought together 220 years of democracy data with information on the cultural relationships between nations. The cultural relationships we examined were based on languages and religious beliefs. For example, Portugal is linguistically closer to Spanish-speaking Argentina and Spain than to England and Germany (which speak Germanic languages). Likewise, Myanmar, a Theravada Buddhist country, is religiously closer to Mongolia (where Vajrayana Buddhism is predominant) than to Muslim Malaysia. <h2>Culture is more important than geography</h2> The democracy data we studied cover 269 modern and historical nations and three widely-used democracy indicators, measuring democratic and autocratic authority in governing institutions (<a href="https://www.systemicpeace.org/polityproject.html" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Polity 5</a>), electoral participation and competition (<a href="https://www.prio.org/data/20" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Vanhanen Index</a>) and individual rights and freedoms (<a href="https://freedomhouse.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Freedom House</a>). Across all three indicators of democracy, we found countries that share linguistic or religious ancestry tend to have more similar democracy scores. These shared cultural ties were better predictors of democracy than geography, especially during the third wave of democratisation. Knowing the democratic status of a country’s linguistic or religious relatives helps predict that country’s future level of democracy five, ten or even 20 years later. These effects were not just due to countries sharing a language (for example, the English-speaking world) or religion (such as the Sunni Islam majority countries). This suggests deeper cultural connections between countries are important. <h2>What this means for the spread of democracy</h2> These effects could be the result of a number of processes. One possibility is that countries directly inherited institutions along the same pathways they inherited cultural features like language. For instance, Aotearoa New Zealand and other Commonwealth countries inherited the British legal system along with the English language. Another possibility is that cultural similarities might make countries more likely to maintain ongoing social connections, including foreign relations, which then aid the spread of institutions. For example, the <a href="https://theconversation.com/how-the-arab-spring-changed-the-middle-east-and-north-africa-forever-161394" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Arab Spring</a> spread among a set of countries with common linguistic and religious heritage. A third possibility is that inherited cultural values could steer countries towards similar institutions. For example, <a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/s41562-019-0769-1" target="_blank" rel="noopener">in previous research</a> we found that tolerance of diversity (cosmopolitan values) promotes a shift to more democratic institutions, but the reverse is not true. Democratic institutions do not shift tolerance. Countries that have inherited cosmopolitan values as part of their shared cultural ancestry may be more likely to shift towards democracy. If this theory is correct, it calls into question the assumption that democratic institutions can endure without sustained efforts to promote the cultural values that support them. The US interventions in Afghanistan and Iraq may be tragic examples of this. Our findings indicate cultural history matters for understanding the spread of democracy around the globe. This does not mean culture is the only factor at play (our analyses still leave a lot of variation unexplained). Neither do our findings speak to a population’s ultimate potential to achieve democratic outcomes, but we see this as within the reach of all populations. This means those wishing to support democracy at home or abroad should take cultural barriers seriously. We cannot assume that institutions that work well in one cultural setting can be easily transplanted to another, very different setting, with different values, norms and traditions. We should pay more attention to culturally closely related countries that have succeeded at merging local norms and values with democratic institutions. This article originally appeared on <a href="https://theconversation.com/democracy-spreads-in-waves-but-shared-cultural-history-might-matter-more-than-geography-189959" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Conversation</a>. Image: Shutterstock

Legal

The “marshmallow test” of delayed gratification is actually culturally diverse

The <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanford_marshmallow_experiment" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Stanford marshmallow experiment</a> is one of the most enduring child psychology studies of the last 50 years. The test is a simple one. A child aged between 3 and 6 had a marshmallow (later experiments also used a pretzel) placed in front of them and told that if they wait, they could have a second marshmallow when the tester returned. The original study found that those who waited for the extra marshmallow had more success as an adult than those that scoffed the marshmallow down, suggesting that being able to delay gratification is an important life skill. But since its inception, people have argued whether waiting for a marshmallow as a five-year-old can really tell you how successful, thin and educated you’ll be as an adult, or if there might be other, more complicated factors going on behind the scenes. A new study published in the journal <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/09567976221074650?journalCode=pssa" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Psychological Science</a> has suggested one of those factors – showing that cultural upbringing could change the way children respond. “We found that the ability to delay gratification – which predicts many important life outcomes – is not just about variations in genes or brain development but also about habits supported by culture,” <a href="https://www.colorado.edu/today/2022/07/21/new-take-marshmallow-test-when-it-comes-resisting-temptation-childs-cultural-upbringing" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">said one of the researchers</a>, University of Colorado Boulder psychology researcher Yuko Munakata. “It calls into question: How much of our scientific conclusions are shaped by the cultural lens we, as researchers, bring to our work?” <div class="newsletter-box"> <div id="wpcf7-f6-p199467-o1" class="wpcf7" dir="ltr" lang="en-US" role="form"> </div> </div> This is a larger problem than just some kids eating marshmallows. Historically, science – across <a href="https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/clinical-trials-have-far-too-little-racial-and-ethnic-diversity/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">clinical</a> and <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/1745691620927709" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">psychology</a> research – has a habit of having too little cultural diversity, and the new research shows why this can be an issue. The researchers found that the 80 children in Japan were much better at waiting to eat food when asked than the 58 children in the United States. However, this was reversed when asked to wait to open gifts. “This interaction may reflect cultural differences: waiting to eat is emphasised more in Japan than in the United States, whereas waiting to open gifts is emphasised more in the United States than in Japan,” <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/09567976221074650" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">the team write in their new paper.</a> “These findings suggest that culturally specific habits support delaying gratification, providing a new way to understand why individuals delay gratification and why this behaviour predicts life success.” This small study doesn’t look into the longer-term results of the original marshmallow experiment, like whether the kids will be more successful as adults. Along with cultural differences, other studies have shown <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/family/archive/2018/06/marshmallow-test/561779/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">qualities like affluence</a> are also a defining factor. All of this is only if the marshmallow test actually holds at all. <a href="https://anderson-review.ucla.edu/new-study-disavows-marshmallow-tests-predictive-powers/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Recent follow up studies</a> with <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/0956797618761661" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">larger groups</a> of children followed into adulthood have shown that those who chose marshmallowey goodness straight away are not generally more or less financially secure, educated or healthy than their food-delaying peers. It seems that 50 years later the test is still telling us things – just about our own biases rather than predicting the future of five-year-olds. <img id="cosmos-post-tracker" style="opacity: 0; height: 1px!important; width: 1px!important; border: 0!important; position: absolute!important; z-index: -1!important;" src="https://syndication.cosmosmagazine.com/?id=199467&title=The+%26%238220%3Bmarshmallow+test%26%238221%3B+of+delayed+gratification+is+actually+culturally+diverse" width="1" height="1" /> <div id="contributors"> <a href="https://cosmosmagazine.com/people/marshmallow-test-cultural-diverse/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">This article</a> was originally published on <a href="https://cosmosmagazine.com" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Cosmos Magazine</a> and was written by <a href="https://cosmosmagazine.com/contributor/jacinta-bowler" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Jacinta Bowler</a>. Jacinta Bowler is a freelance science journalist who has written about far-flung exoplanets, terrifying superbugs and everything in between. They have written articles for ABC, SBS, ScienceAlert and Pedestrian, and are a regular contributor for kids magazines Double Helix and KIT. Image: Getty Images </div>

Caring

New research in Arnhem Land reveals why institutional fire management is inferior to cultural burning

One of the conclusions of this week’s shocking <a href="https://soe.dcceew.gov.au/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">State of the Environment report</a> is that climate change is lengthening Australia’s bushfire seasons and raising the number of days with a fire danger rating of “very high” or above. In New South Wales, for example, the season now extends to almost eight months. It has never been more important for institutional bushfire management programs to apply the principles and practices of Indigenous fire management, or “cultural burning”. As the report notes, cultural burning reduces the risk of bushfires, supports habitat and improves Indigenous wellbeing. And yet, the report finds: <blockquote> with significant funding gaps, tenure impediments and policy barriers, Indigenous cultural burning remains underused – it is currently applied over less than 1% of the land area of Australia’s south‐eastern states and territory. </blockquote> Our <a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/s41598-022-12946-3" target="_blank" rel="noopener">recent research</a> in Scientific Reports specifically addressed the question: how do the environmental outcomes from cultural burning compare to mainstream bushfire management practices? Using the stone country of the Arnhem Land Plateau as a case study, we reveal why institutional fire management is inferior to cultural burning. The few remaining landscapes where Aboriginal people continue an unbroken tradition of caring for Country are of international importance. They should be nationally recognised, valued and resourced like other protected cultural and historical places. <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"> Different indigenous fire application today with a country full of weeds. First burn of of two applications this year. This is what we have to do to make country have less flammable vegetation. Walk through, More time and love put into country. <a href="https://t.co/pnoWFQbq6C">pic.twitter.com/pnoWFQbq6C</a> — Victor Steffensen (@V_Steffensen) <a href="https://twitter.com/V_Steffensen/status/1505384041402748930?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">March 20, 2022</a></blockquote> Ancient fire management The rugged terrain of the Arnhem Plateau in Northern Territory has an ancient human history, with archaeological evidence <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/science/2017-07-20/aboriginal-shelter-pushes-human-history-back-to-65,000-years/8719314#:%7E:text=New%20excavations%20of%20a%20rock,earlier%20than%20archaeologists%20previously%20thought." target="_blank" rel="noopener">dated at 65,000 years</a>. Arnhem Land is an ideal place to explore the effects of different fire regimes because fire is such an essential feature of the natural and cultural environment. Australia’s monsoon tropics are particularly fire prone given the sharply contrasting wet and dry seasons. The wet season sees prolific growth of grasses and other flammable plants, and dry season has reliable hot, dry, windy conditions. Millennia of <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-worlds-best-fire-management-system-is-in-northern-australia-and-its-led-by-indigenous-land-managers-133071" target="_blank" rel="noopener">skilful fire management</a> by Indigenous people in these landscapes have allowed plants and animals needing infrequently burnt habitat to thrive. This involves shifting “mosaic” burning, where small areas are burned regularly to create a patchwork of habitats with different fire histories. This gives wildlife a diversity of resources and places to shelter in. Conservation biologists suspect that the loss of such patchy fires since colonisation has contributed to the <a href="http://132.248.10.25/therya/index.php/THERYA/article/view/236/html_66" target="_blank" rel="noopener">calamitous demise</a> of wildlife species across northern Australia, such as northern quolls, northern brown bandicoots and grassland melomys. <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"> "Fire is the way to really look after the land and the people. Since we started here, we've been using fire. And we need to bring it back because it unites the people and the land." Jacob Morris, Gumea-Dharrawal Yuin man. 🎥 Craig Bender & <a href="https://twitter.com/VeraHongTweets?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">@VeraHongTweets</a> <a href="https://t.co/Afh6iwIrOX">pic.twitter.com/Afh6iwIrOX</a> — FiresticksAlliance (@FiresticksA) <a href="https://twitter.com/FiresticksA/status/1436177617049296901?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">September 10, 2021</a></blockquote> Collapse of the cypress pine Our study was undertaken over 25 years, and wouldn’t have been possible without the generous support and close involvement of the Traditional Owners over this time. It compared an area under near continuous Indigenous management by the Kune people of Western Arnhem Land with ecologically similar and unoccupied areas within Kakadu National Park. We found populations of the cypress pine (Callitris intratropica) remained healthy under continual Aboriginal fire management. By contrast, cypress pine populations had collapsed in ecologically similar areas in Kakadu due to the loss of Indigenous fire management, as they have across much of northern Australia. The population of dead and living pines is like a barcode that records fire regime change. The species is so long lived that older trees were well established before colonisation. The timber is extremely durable and termite resistant, so a tree killed by fire remains in the landscape for many decades. And mature trees, but not juveniles, can tolerate low intensity fires, but intense fires kill both. <figure class="align-center zoomable"><a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/475072/original/file-20220720-22-odbe84.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/475072/original/file-20220720-22-odbe84.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/475072/original/file-20220720-22-odbe84.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=800&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/475072/original/file-20220720-22-odbe84.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=800&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/475072/original/file-20220720-22-odbe84.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=800&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/475072/original/file-20220720-22-odbe84.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1005&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/475072/original/file-20220720-22-odbe84.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1005&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/475072/original/file-20220720-22-odbe84.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1005&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" alt="" /></a><figcaption>Cypress pine timber can remain in the landscape decades after the tree died. Michael Hains/Atlas of Living Australia, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">CC BY-NC-SA</a></figcaption></figure> Since 2007, park rangers have attempted to emulate cultural burning outcomes. They’ve used aircraft to drop incendiaries to create a coarse patchwork of burned and unburned areas to improve biodiversity in the stone country within Kakadu. Unfortunately, our research found Kakadu’s fire management interventions failed to restore landscapes to the healthier ecological condition under traditional Aboriginal fire management. While the Kakadu aerial burning program increased the amount of unburnt vegetation, it didn’t reverse the population collapse of cypress pines. Searches of tens of kilometres failed to find a single seedling in Kakadu, whereas they were common in comparable areas under Aboriginal fire management. Our study highlights that once the ecological benefits of cultural burning are lost, they cannot be simply restored with mainstream fire management approaches. But that’s not to say the ecological impacts from the loss of Aboriginal fire management cannot be reversed. Rather, restoring fire regimes and ecosystem health will be slow, and require special care in where and how fires are set. This requires teams on the ground with deep knowledge of the land, rather than simply spreading aerial incendiaries from helicopters. <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"> After 60 years of fire exclusion, another magic day restoring fire to Arakwal-Bundjalung-Bumberlin country. <a href="https://t.co/xRRNb4ELdQ">pic.twitter.com/xRRNb4ELdQ</a> — Dr. Andy Baker (@FireDiversity) <a href="https://twitter.com/FireDiversity/status/1537768580455931905?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">June 17, 2022</a></blockquote> There’s much to learn There remains much for Western science to learn about <a href="https://theconversation.com/fighting-fire-with-fire-botswana-adopts-indigenous-australians-ancient-burning-tradition-135363" target="_blank" rel="noopener">traditional fire management</a>. Large-scale institutional fire management is based on concepts of efficiency and generality. It is controlled by bureaucracies, and achieved using machines and technologies. Such an “industrial” approach cannot replace the placed-based knowledge, including close human relationships with Country, underpinning <a href="https://www.firesticks.org.au/about/cultural-burning/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">cultural burning</a>. Cultural burning and institutional fire management could be thought of as the differences between home cooking and fast food. Fast food is quick, cheap and produces the same product regardless of individual needs. Home cooking takes longer to prepare, can cater to individual needs, and can improve wellbeing. But restoring sustainable fire regimes based on the wisdom and practices of Indigenous people cannot be achieved overnight. Reaping the benefits of cultural burning to landscapes where colonialism has disrupted ancient fire traditions take time, effort and resources. It’s urgent remaining traditional fire practitioners are recognised for their invaluable knowledge and materially supported to continue caring for their Country. This includes: <ul> <li>actively supporting Indigenous people to reside on their Country</li> <li>to pay them to undertake natural resource management including cultural burning</li> <li>creating pathways enabling Indigenous people separated from their country by colonialism to re-engage with fire management.</li> </ul> Restoring landscapes with sustainable cultural burning traditions is a long-term project that will involve training and relearning ancient practices. There are extraordinary opportunities for Indigenous and non-Indigenous people alike to learn how to Care for Country. <hr /> The authors gratefully acknowledge the contribution of Victor Steffensen, the Lead Fire Practitioner at the Firesticks Alliance Indigenous Corporation, who reviewed this article.<img style="border: none !important; box-shadow: none !important; margin: 0 !important; max-height: 1px !important; max-width: 1px !important; min-height: 1px !important; min-width: 1px !important; opacity: 0 !important; outline: none !important; padding: 0 !important;" src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/184562/count.gif?distributor=republish-lightbox-basic" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" /> <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/david-bowman-4397" target="_blank" rel="noopener">David Bowman</a>, Professor of Pyrogeography and Fire Science, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-tasmania-888" target="_blank" rel="noopener">University of Tasmania</a>; <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/christopher-i-roos-1354187" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Christopher I. Roos</a>, Professor, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/southern-methodist-university-1988" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Southern Methodist University</a>, and <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/fay-johnston-90826" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Fay Johnston</a>, Professor, Menzies Institute for Medical Research, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-tasmania-888" target="_blank" rel="noopener">University of Tasmania</a> This article is republished from <a href="https://theconversation.com" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Conversation</a> under a Creative Commons license. Read the <a href="https://theconversation.com/new-research-in-arnhem-land-reveals-why-institutional-fire-management-is-inferior-to-cultural-burning-184562" target="_blank" rel="noopener">original article</a>. Image: @FireDiversity (Twitter)

Domestic Travel

New Air NZ exhibit celebrates Māori culture

A new exhibition promises to take visitors through the skies of New Zealand by combining virtual reality with the real world. The exhibition, launched by Air New Zealand, sees a virtual version of Pou Tikanga, Pou Pūrākau (cultural leader, storyteller) Joe Harawira take guests through the story of Matariki, the celebration of the Māori new year. "Attendees will board the waka rererangi (canoe in the sky) to visit the Guardians Tanē Mahuta (forest), Tangaroa (sea), Papatūānuku (land), and Ranginui (sky) to experience the Matariki story, all without moving an inch,” Air New Zealand Senior Cultural Development Manager Jahmaine Cummings-Hodge said in a <a href="https://www.airnewzealand.com.au/join-araraurangi-air-new-zealand-in-the-waka-rererangi-for-a-matariki-journey" target="_blank" rel="noopener">statement</a>. "A full 3D virtual version of Joe has been created which appears in the experience at a human scale. We have also replicated the carved waka in its entirety digitally using similar techniques, mimicking intricate carvings and textures." A combination of facial motion capture, photogrammetry, and scanning techniques was used to bring the virtual versions of Joe and the waka to life, which can be viewed using Magic Leap headsets. The technology used by Magic Leap layers digital objects onto the real world, meaning that light enters the eye just like it would if a real object were being viewed. The virtual reality experience comes after the airline worked with Harawira for a new safety video celebrating Māori culture, released in May this year, and as part of the company’s efforts to support te ao Māori (the Māori worldview). "As the national carrier, Air New Zealand has a responsibility to demonstrate an authentic and holistic support of Māori culture,” Cummings-Hodge said. The experience, launched at the Canterbury Museum on June 18-19, will be live at Te Puia in Rotorua from June 22. Image: @canterburymuseum (Instagram)

Domestic Travel

Meet the experts working to preserve Ukraine’s cultural history

As the war in Ukraine wages on, officials are growing increasingly concerned about the preservation of the country’s art history and cultural heritage. As historic museums and buildings are being bombed by the Russian offensive, while precious artefacts are being stolen and looted. "We have museum buildings destroyed, with all collections turned into ashes — it's quite a barbaric situation," curator and art historian Konstantin Akinsha tells <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/radionational/programs/the-roundtable/13821526">ABC RN's Sunday Extra.</a> "[The] other side of the problem is that in little towns which are occupied by Russians, we have the first cases of random looting of museums." Recently, Scythian gold artefacts dating back to the fourth century BC were stolen from a museum in the southern Ukraine town of Melitopol. Officials in Ukraine said Russian soldiers were accompanied by an unknown expert "in a white coat", who carefully extracted the ancient gold artefacts from cardboard boxes hidden in the museum's cellar. "This is one of the largest and most expensive collections in Ukraine, and today we don't know where they took it," Melitopol mayor Ivan Fedorov said at the time. Mr Akinsha, who is an expert on the cultural destruction of World War II, says he is now “reliving” what he learned during his studies “in real time”. He has been in contact with many curators and artists throughout the conflict, and reports that many museums have been unable to evacuate their collections in time. Moving them outside of Ukraine would be highly political and would require permission from national authorities. This has meant some of those looking after art have been forced to pack up the collections and live in the museums' cellars. According to Ukraine officials, more than 250 cultural institutions have been damaged or destroyed since the conflict began in February. Since the start of the war, members of the ALIPH Foundation, an international alliance that works to protect cultural heritage both during and post conflict, has been helping cultural heritage professionals and museum directors in the Ukraine. They have sent crates, packing material and fireproof blankets to institutions to help protect collections and respond to their needs. "The storage facilities themselves need to be up to standard … [they] need to have proper humidity control, be away from the elements and the packing boxes need to be of a certain calibre in order to protect the artefacts because these artefacts are, of course, precious and fragile," said Sandra Bialystok, the communications and partnerships officer for ALIPH Foundation. Despite the huge challenge of protecting these cultural works, Konstantin Akinsha said their preservation is uniting the people of Ukraine. "In individual towns and villages attacked by Russians and occupied by Russians, people are trying to save objects from the local museums, hiding them in their houses," he says. "Because for them, this heritage is extremely important – it's part of their life.” Image credits: Getty Images

Art

The crisis of a career in culture: why sustaining a livelihood in the arts is so hard

In the arts in Australia, <a href="https://cultureunbound.ep.liu.se/article/view/2199">precarious employment</a>, <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/1360780419895291">unpaid work</a> and <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/41064887?seq=2#metadata_info_tab_contents">short-lived careers</a> are the norm. Many artists and arts workers have “<a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/0950017004045551">portfolio careers</a>”, piecing together a mixture of jobs while competing for limited funding and career opportunities in the arts. COVID-19 shone a glaring spotlight on <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/09548963.2020.1770577">this precarity</a>, exposing the <a href="https://apo.org.au/node/313299">lack of permanent jobs</a> in the sector. Some 81% of artists work as <a href="https://australiacouncil.gov.au/advocacy-and-research/making-art-work/">freelancers or on a self-employed basis</a>, without access to sick leave or other entitlements many Australians take for granted. But the unsustainability of creative careers was already well known to <a href="https://www.eurekastreet.com.au/article/is-it-too-hard-to-have-a-career-in-the-arts">artists</a>, <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/1035304613500601">academics</a> and <a href="https://australiacouncil.gov.au/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/do_you_really_expect_to_get_pa-54325a3748d81.pdf">governments</a>. <h2>Career sustainability</h2> In 2019, I set out to understand what “<a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0304422X21000644?dgcid=author">sustainability</a>” means to Australia’s arts and culture sector. I analysed 564 annual reports published between 2010 and 2018 and over 2,700 submissions in the 2014 and 2015 <a href="https://www.aph.gov.au/Parliamentary_Business/Committees/Senate/Legal_and_Constitutional_Affairs/Arts_Funding">Senate Inquiry</a> into arts funding. I also interviewed 33 artists and arts managers representing all parts of the performing arts sector. One interviewee defined a “sustainable career” as, "one in which you’re employed in your practice to the extent that you can live. For a lot of artists that’s just about a roof over their head and feeding themselves. […] I think we should be able to have mortgages and raise kids […] I look at some of the singers that I work with and that’s really hard for them to do." Even artists who are successful in multiple facets of their career – including some of our most celebrated theatre directors – can feel like these careers are not sustainable. One contributor to the Senate Inquiry observed, "Artists can have successful exhibitions, be collected by national and international institutions, and still not make a sustainable living." Interestingly, I observed significant differences in how different arts companies wrote about sustainability in their annual reports. Career sustainability was mentioned more often by theatre companies than other art forms. Opera and circus tied in second place. While comparable data is not available for Australia, findings from the UK suggest a <a href="https://www.standard.co.uk/culture/theatre/freelancers-make-theatre-work-interview-coronavirus-shutdown-a4476396.html">high percentage of freelancers working in theatre</a>might explain this difference. <h2>Inherent demands</h2> Working in the performing arts involves both physical demands and mental strain. Artists described to me how they have to maintain “the body of an elite athlete” and how the “obsessive requirement to be excellent all the time” leads to “consistent performance-related anxiety.” The inevitable long hours and extensive travel also make this a family-unfriendly career. Artists explained the expectation they work outside of ordinary business hours, the need to “travel where the work is” and feeling like they needed to leave the arts if they wanted to raise a family. These pressures arise from both the limited opportunities and <a href="https://theconversation.com/cut-throat-competition-corporate-speak-and-dark-ironies-two-new-five-year-arts-plans-122943">intense competition</a> within the arts and culture sector, which make many people feel they have to accept any opportunity – and work under any conditions – <a href="https://www.artshub.com.au/news/career-advice/why-we-are-burning-out-in-the-arts-249582-2350136/">in order not to be left behind</a>. In my research, I found all of these issues became compounded when measures of diversity were considered. Gender inequity presents one barrier to career sustainability. Interviewees also told me First Nations artists, deaf and disabled artists, regional and remote artists, and artists from lower socio-economic backgrounds face even greater challenges. <a href="https://www.australiacouncil.gov.au/research/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/Towards-Equity-Report.pdf">Recent research by the Australia Council for the Arts</a> reveals the same is true for culturally and linguistically diverse artists. <h2>Financial constraints</h2> In the interviews taken as part of my research, I repeatedly found financial constraints underpin three problems causing career unsustainability in the arts. 1. Low incomes: "being brutal about it […] I have as good a freelance load as anyone probably going around Australia […] and my wife needs to be working full-time for us to be financially sustainable." 2. Unpaid work: "you really only get paid if you’re performing and if you’re lucky enough, you might get paid for the rehearsals beforehand." 3. Excessive workloads: "the level of burnout in this industry is pretty shocking […] we’re all overworked and constantly tired." The obvious solution is more abundant and ongoing <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-problem-with-arts-funding-in-australia-goes-right-back-to-its-inception-138834">public</a> and <a href="https://www.theage.com.au/culture/art-and-design/the-donor-dilemma-philanthropy-and-the-arts-20191204-p53gnt.html">philanthropic</a>support. As one interviewee explained, "Increased government funding for the arts is […] the first and most important step in the career sustainability of artists because it flows through everything else." But other creative solutions are also needed to make artistic careers more sustainable. These include: increasing <a href="http://diversityarts.org.au/app/uploads/Shifting-the-Balance-DARTS-small.pdf">diversity within arts sector leadership</a>; teaching student artists to develop an “<a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/1474022212465725">adaptive entrepreneurial identity</a>”; and <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/0730888413505229">fostering community and collective support</a> among artists and arts managers. <h2>Moving towards ‘decent work’ for all</h2> The <a href="https://sdgs.un.org/goals/goal8">United Nations’ Sustainable Development Goal 8</a> calls for “full and productive employment and decent work for all.” In 2019, the <a href="https://www.ilo.org/sector/Resources/publications/WCMS_661953/lang--en/index.htm">International Labour Organization</a> began exploring what “decent work” means for arts and culture. Australian politicians, policymakers, and sector leaders need to do the same. These three steps will help. 1. Recognise <a href="https://www.artshub.com.au/news/news/labor-articulates-its-guiding-arts-principles-2513356/">artists are workers</a>. This would mean <a href="https://autonomy.work/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/artists-as-workers-final2.pdf">paying serious attention to the conditions of contemporary artistic labour</a>, which would pave the way to addressing both precarity and structural inequalities within the arts and culture sector. 2. Accept <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/2158244016649580">decent work is a human right</a>. This would mean acknowledging artists and arts managers (like all people) are entitled to gain a living from their work, then developing policies to prioritise <a href="https://www.ilo.org/newyork/speeches-and-statements/WCMS_229015/lang--en/index.htm">the creation of good jobs</a> within the arts and culture sector. 3. Implement <a href="https://www.ilo.org/global/topics/decent-work/lang--en/index.htm">decent work</a> for artists. For artists, this means rejecting any expectation creatives might “<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/education/2018/jul/09/creative-careers-is-it-ever-worth-working-for-exposure">work for exposure</a>.” For arts companies, it means <a href="https://www.artshub.com.au/news/news/artkeeper-program-puts-artists-on-payroll-2515622/">putting artists on payroll</a>, embedding <a href="https://australiainstitute.org.au/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/Creativity_in_Crisis-_Rebooting_Australias_Arts___Entertainment_Sector_-_FINAL_-_26_July.pdf">fair pay and conditions</a> within all arts organisations, and supporting <a href="https://www.artshub.com.au/news/opinions-analysis/why-the-arts-sector-must-commit-to-real-cultural-change-257376-2362321/">cultural change across the sector</a>. Image credits: Getty Images This article originally appeared in <a rel="noopener" href="https://theconversation.com/the-crisis-of-a-career-in-culture-why-sustaining-a-livelihood-in-the-arts-is-so-hard-171732" target="_blank">The Conversation</a> and was written by Katherine Power.

Art

First Nations children are still being removed at disproportionate rates. Cultural assumptions about parenting need to change

Child protection processes in Australia have a history of injustice that disproportionately targets and harms First Nations children, families and communities. As a result, contemporary child protection systems and associated professions have sought to distance themselves from explicitly racist past policies and practices by <a href="https://www.aasw.asn.au/document/item/618">apologising</a> for their past involvement in the Stolen Generations and committing to change. Yet child protection systems continue to operate on assumptions about <a href="http://upendmovement.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/How-We-endUP-6.18.21.pdf">race and class</a> that increase inequalities and injustices against First Nations families. In a Queensland <a href="https://doi.org/10.1016/j.chiabu.2018.05.002">study</a> published in 2018 that used data from 2010-2011, Indigeneity was found to be a greater predictor of “subsequent child protection reports and investigations than a rating of ‘high risk’ on child protection’s risk assessment tool”. Another study in Western Australia found, when controlled for all other factors, Aboriginality was associated with <a href="https://doi.org/10.1016/j.chiabu.2019.01.017">almost double the risk</a> of infant removal. Understandings of risk, child abuse and neglect are often biased in favour of white middle-class parenting practices. This can lead to over-surveillance of First Nations families, and a flawed notification system. <h2>First Nations styles of parenting are disregarded or considered unsafe</h2> According to University of Utah <a href="http://www.kooriweb.org/foley/resources/whiteness/summary_of_whiteness_theory.pdf">academic Audrey Thompson</a>, “Whiteness Theory treats whiteness not as a biological category but as a social construction.” White social constructions are often informing major decision-making in child protection practice and policies. This is because legislators and those making decisions about child protection are often white. However, families disproportionately affected by these decisions are often Indigenous. As a result, white constructs also inform the baseline for good parenting practices in Australian child protection services. Essentially, Australian child protection systems were built around <a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1002/ajs4.90">white, middle class standards</a> of parenting. This means they often <a href="https://search.informit.org/doi/10.3316/INFORMIT.201569927296804">ignore</a> cultural differences in how children are raised. For example, many First Nations families <a href="https://aifs.gov.au/cfca/publications/strengths-australian-aboriginal-cultural-practices-family-life-and-child-r">raise their children collectively</a>, with resources – such as food and housing – shared among family, kinship and community members. The recent documentary <a href="https://sharkisland.com.au/portfolio/the-department/">The Department</a> told the story of First Nations woman Stacey and her struggles trying to get her children returned to her care. The size of Stacey’s house was viewed by child protection services as a barrier. Stacey complied with the department’s guidelines, including moving into a larger house with four bedrooms. Despite having two of her children in her care, the film ends with three of Stacey’s children remaining in out-of-home care. Another case was a First Nations woman who had her baby taken from her by child protection. According to The Guardian, the chief executive officer of the First Peoples’ Health and Wellbeing Clinic said the initial assessment of this mother had been <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2019/jul/18/aboriginal-woman-wins-battle-to-keep-baby-after-six-court-appearances">culturally inappropriate</a>. This ignorance of Indigenous ways of parenting could be contributing to the 20,077 Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children in out-of-home care as of 30 June 2019. According to the <a href="https://www.familymatters.org.au/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/FamilyMattersReport2020_LR.pdf">Family Matters Report</a>, this represents one in every 16.6 Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children living in Australia. <hr /> <iframe src="https://flo.uri.sh/visualisation/7897444/embed" title="Interactive or visual content" class="flourish-embed-iframe" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" style="width: 100%; height: 650px;" sandbox="allow-same-origin allow-forms allow-scripts allow-downloads allow-popups allow-popups-to-escape-sandbox allow-top-navigation-by-user-activation" width="100%" height="400"></iframe> <div style="width: 100%!; margin-top: 4px!important; text-align: right!important;"><a href="https://public.flourish.studio/visualisation/7897444/?utm_source=embed&utm_campaign=visualisation/7897444" target="_top" class="flourish-credit"><img src="https://public.flourish.studio/resources/made_with_flourish.svg" alt="Made with Flourish" /> </a></div> <hr /> First Nations children had far higher rates of substantiations for neglect (31.8%) compared to non-Indigenous children (18.2%) in 2019-20, and lower rates of substantiations for sexual abuse. Understandings of neglect and emotional abuse are <a href="http://dx.doi.org/10.4135/9781473919716">subject to interpretation</a> by child protection practitioners. These interpretations can be based on societal and cultural values often incompatible with collective child rearing, and do not account for the impacts of material poverty when raising children. <h2>Families facing punishment instead of support</h2> Currently, child protection services often punish and <a href="https://doi.org/10.1017/S1035077200000079">blame</a> individuals for their “dysfunction” or risk. Genuine support, with a focus on addressing the <a href="https://www.familymatters.org.au/the-family-matters-report-2020/">drivers</a> of child protection involvement, remains lacking. For First Nations families, these drivers include poverty, housing issues, racism, trauma, mental health concerns, domestic and family violence, and alcohol and other drugs abuse. Rather than offering support to First Nations families who are in dire circumstances – such as financial support – the response of child protection systems remains <a href="https://www.familyisculture.nsw.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0011/726329/Family-Is-Culture-Review-Report.pdf">coercive, controlling, and punitive</a>. For example, <a href="https://aifs.gov.au/cfca/publications/australian-legal-definitions-when-child-need-protection">reasons for emotional abuse substantiations</a> can include children <a href="https://www.aic.gov.au/publications/tandi/tandi419">witnessing</a> domestic and family violence. Rather than providing ways for victim-survivors of domestic and family violence (<a href="https://www.aihw.gov.au/reports/domestic-violence/family-domestic-sexual-violence-australia-2019/contents/summary">often women and children</a>) to stay together, child removal often occurs. There is <a href="https://doi.org/10.1332/204674315X14207948135699">no focus on the structures driving these problems</a>. Instead, blame is placed on the affected individual. As argued by <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=udIq9oRDcDQ">Derecka Purnell</a>, lawyer and author of <a href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/675803/becoming-abolitionists-by-derecka-purnell/">Becoming Abolitionists</a>, child protection systems in the United States are predicated on the failure of individuals to “protect” and supply their children with certain provisions. However there is limited support from these services to supply resources needed for parents to feed, clothe and house their children. Australia’s child protection systems <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/338476340_Typologies_of_Child_Protection_Systems_An_International_Approach">have the same flaws</a>. <h2>A flawed notification system</h2> Increased involvement of child protection agencies with First Nations families contributes to a harmful perception among those who report issues to child protection (teachers, health professionals, police and the general public) that First Nations families ought to be surveilled more than others. This becomes a vicious circle, increasing the number of reports, contributing to the <a href="https://www.familymatters.org.au/the-family-matters-report-2020/">overrepresentation</a> of First Nations children in child protection and out-of-home care. <hr /> <iframe src="https://flo.uri.sh/visualisation/7862106/embed" title="Interactive or visual content" class="flourish-embed-iframe" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" style="width: 100%; height: 650px;" sandbox="allow-same-origin allow-forms allow-scripts allow-downloads allow-popups allow-popups-to-escape-sandbox allow-top-navigation-by-user-activation" width="100%" height="400"></iframe> <div style="width: 100%!; margin-top: 4px!important; text-align: right!important;"><a href="https://public.flourish.studio/visualisation/7862106/?utm_source=embed&utm_campaign=visualisation/7862106" target="_top" class="flourish-credit"><img src="https://public.flourish.studio/resources/made_with_flourish.svg" alt="Made with Flourish" /> </a></div> <hr /> Anyone in the community can make a notification of alleged child abuse or neglect to child protection authorities. The concerned neighbour, the midwife at the maternity hospital, the teacher in the classroom, or the police officer responding to a family violence call-out. They do not need to supply substantive proof or evidence of the alleged harm. They need only have “<a href="https://providers.dffh.vic.gov.au/making-report-child-protection">reasonable belief</a>” of harm or potential harm. Their judgement as to what constitutes child abuse or neglect is at their discretion. The notifier can also remain anonymous to the family who are the target of the allegation. Once a <a href="https://www.familyisculture.nsw.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0011/726329/Family-Is-Culture-Review-Report.pdf">notification</a> of alleged child abuse or neglect has been made to child protection authorities, the likelihood of future allegations increases. This is because an allegation in and of itself serves as <a href="https://aifs.gov.au/cfca/publications/australian-legal-definitions-when-child-need-protection"> another “risk factor”</a>. Child protection authorities hold the power to investigate any allegation of child abuse or neglect made to their jurisdiction. But affected families are left with no choice but to <a href="https://www.familyisculture.nsw.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0011/726329/Family-Is-Culture-Review-Report.pdf">comply</a> with child protection’s directives. These families often feel voiceless, powerless and in fear of a system that continues to remove First Nations children at disproportionate rates (despite making <a href="https://www.pc.gov.au/closing-the-gap-data/dashboard/socioeconomic/outcome-area12">commitments</a> to change). <a href="https://www.aasw.asn.au/document/item/618">Social workers</a> have acknowledged the harms of past practices. However they remain complicit in child protection systems that continue to inflict harm against First Nations families and communities. These practices have resonance with the Stolen Generations. Changing child protection systems requires more than apologies and acknowledgements of past harms. On-paper reforms, such as the commissioning of independent reviews into child protection systems without fully implementing the recommendations, ring <a href="https://www.smh.com.au/national/nsw/still-they-take-the-children-away-while-20211107-p596oy.html">hollow</a>. As a result, child protection systems continue to cause harm to another generation of First Nations children and families. It needs to be accepted that understandings of “risk” in Australian child protection systems have been built on racial discrimination and biased understandings of “good parenting”. Transformation of these systems requires investment in prevention and early intervention, confronting whiteness in these practices, and improving cultural awareness about different styles of parenting. These are a vital steps in addressing the structural drivers of involvement with child protection systems. Better support for First Nations families to stay together is needed to avoid more generations of stolen children.<img style="border: none !important; box-shadow: none !important; margin: 0 !important; max-height: 1px !important; max-width: 1px !important; min-height: 1px !important; min-width: 1px !important; opacity: 0 !important; outline: none !important; padding: 0 !important; text-shadow: none !important;" src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/169090/count.gif?distributor=republish-lightbox-basic" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" /> <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/jacynta-krakouer-196720">Jacynta Krakouer</a>, Research Fellow, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/monash-university-1065">Monash University</a>; <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/alex-bhathal-1288514">Alex Bhathal</a>, Lecturer, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/la-trobe-university-842">La Trobe University</a>; <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/catherine-chamberlain-1223086">Catherine Chamberlain</a>, Professor Indigenous Health Equity, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/the-university-of-melbourne-722">The University of Melbourne</a>; <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/james-c-beaufils-1288512">James C. Beaufils</a>, Research fellow, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-technology-sydney-936">University of Technology Sydney</a>; <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/paul-gray-1102843">Paul Gray</a>, Associate professor, Jumbunna Insitute for Indigenous Education and Research, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-technology-sydney-936">University of Technology Sydney</a>, and <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/tatiana-corrales-1288516">Tatiana Corrales</a>, Research Fellow, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/monash-university-1065">Monash University</a> This article is republished from <a href="https://theconversation.com">The Conversation</a> under a Creative Commons license. Read the <a href="https://theconversation.com/first-nations-children-are-still-being-removed-at-disproportionate-rates-cultural-assumptions-about-parenting-need-to-change-169090">original article</a>. Image: Unsplash, CC BY

Family & Pets

Who’s a tourist? How a culture of travel is changing everyday life

Every year, the global tourism community celebrates <a href="http://wtd.unwto.org/">World Tourism Day</a> in September. The theme for 2021 is about community development and how tourism can contribute to empowering people and improve socio-economic conditions in local communities. But who are the people who might visit “communities” and what does it mean – these days – to be a tourist? There are many tourist stereotypes – an overweight Westerner in shorts with a camera dangling around their neck, or maybe a trekking-shoed backpacker hanging out in the Himalayas. Many people think of “tourism” and “holidays” as distinct times of the year when the family travels to the seaside or the mountains. World Tourism Day is an opportunity to discuss how much more encompassing the phenomenon of tourism is than most people might think. <h2>What is a tourist?</h2> People are more often a “tourist” than they realise. The United Nations World Tourism Organisation broadly defines a tourist as anyone travelling away from home for more than one night and less than one year. So, mobility is at the core of tourism. In Australia, for example, in 2013 <a href="http://www.tra.gov.au/documents/NVS_onepager_Dec2013_FINAL_07032014.pdf">75.8 million</a> people travelled domestically for an overnight trip – spending 283 million visitor nights and $51.5 billion. Reasons for travel are manifold and not restricted to holidays, which makes up only 47% of all domestic trips in Australia. Other reasons include participation in sport events, visiting a friend or relative, or business meetings. Some of the most-visited destinations in the world are not related to leisure but to other purposes. For example, pilgramage tourism to Mecca (Saudi Arabia) triples the population from its normal 2 million <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hajj">during the Hajj</a> period every year. <h2>Travel, work and leisure: what’s the difference?</h2> Tourists are not what they used to be. One of the most pervasive changes in the structure of modern life is the crumbling divide between the spheres of work and life. This is no more obvious than in relation to travel. Let me test the readers of The Conversation: who is checking their work emails while on holiday? A <a href="http://www.gfi.com/blog/survey-worklife-divide-the-gap-has-all-but-disappeared-thanks-to-email-infographic/">recent survey</a> undertaken in the US showed that 44.8% of respondents check their work email at least once a day outside work hours. Further, 29.8% of respondents use their work email for personal purposes. Post-modern thinkers have long pointed to processes where work becomes leisure and leisure cannot be separated from work anymore. Ever-increasing mobility means the tourist and the non-tourist become more and more alike. The classic work-leisure divide becomes particularly fluid for those who frequently engage in travel, for example to attend business meetings or conferences. Conferences are often held at interesting locations, inviting longer stays and recreational activities not only for participants but also for spouses and family. Further, city business hotels increasingly resemble tourist resorts: both have extensive recreational facilities such as swimming pools and spas, multiple restaurants and often shopping opportunities (e.g. <a href="http://www.marinabaysands.com/index.html">Marina Bay Sands, Singapore</a>). And, of course, they offer internet access – to be connected to both work and private “business”. Understanding how people negotiate this liquidity while travelling provides interesting insights into much broader societal changes in terms of how people organise their lives. For some entrepreneurial destinations these trends have provided an opportunity; namely the designation of so-called <a href="http://ro.uow.edu.au/buspapers/137/">dead zones</a> – areas where no mobile phone and no internet access are available. Here the tourist can fully immerse in the real locality of their stay. <h2>Fear of missing out</h2> The perceived need to connect virtually to “friends” (e.g. on Facebook) and colleagues has attracted substantial psychological research interest, with new terms being coined such as <a href="http://www.news.com.au/lifestyle/real-life/how-fomo-fear-of-missing-out-is-ruining-my-life/story-fnixwvgh-1226862030711">FOMO (fear of missing out)</a> addiction, or internet addiction disorder. A recent <a href="http://www.tnooz.com/article/facebook-users-cite-travel-most-often-as-their-biggest-life-moments-infographic/">Facebook survey</a> found that this social media outlet owes much of its popularity to travel – 42% of stories shared related to travel. The motivations for engaging in extensive social media use and implications for tourism marketing are an active area of tourism research. Thus, understanding why and what people share while travelling (i.e. away from loved ones, but possibly earning important “social status” points) might provide important insights into wider questions of social networks and identity formation, especially among younger people. <h2>Tourism and emigration</h2> The increasingly global nature of networks has been discussed in detail by sociologist <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/john-urry-14141">John Urry</a> and others. They note the growing interconnectedness between tourism and migration, where families are spread over the globe and (cheap) air travel enables social networks to connect regularly. As a result, for many people local communities have given way to global communities, with important implications for people’s “sense of place” and resilience. The global nature of personal networks extends to business relationships where the degree to which one is globally connected determines one’s “network capital”. Urry also noted that mobility has become a differentiation factor between the “haves” and “have nots”, with a small elite of hypermobile “connectors”. Thus travel and tourism sit at the core of a potentially new structure of leaders and influential decision makers. <h2>The global ‘share economy’</h2> Engaging in this global community of tourists is not restricted to those who travel actively. The so-called <a href="http://www.forbes.com/pictures/eeji45emgkh/airbnb-snapgoods-and-12-more-pioneers-of-the-share-economy/">Share Economy</a>, where people rent out their private homes (e.g. AirBnB), share taxi rides or dinners, has brought tourism right into the living rooms of those who wish to engage with people who they may not meet otherwise. Potentially this parallel “tourism industry” provides a unique opportunity for bringing people together and achieving peace through tourism (see <a href="http://www.iipt.org/">International Institute for Peace through Tourism</a>). A whole new area for research travellers, “guests and hosts” and their economic impacts, is emerging. In a nutshell, tourism is much more than the service industry it is usually recognised for, both in practice and as a field of academic enquiry. Tourism and the evolving nature of travellers provide important insights into societal changes, challenges and opportunities. Engaging with tourism and travel also provides us with an excellent opportunity to better understand trends that might foster or impede sustainable development more broadly. Image credits: Getty Images. This article originally appeared on <a rel="noopener" href="https://theconversation.com/whos-a-tourist-how-a-culture-of-travel-is-changing-everyday-life-30896" target="_blank">The Conversation</a>.

Travel Tips

Culture vultures may live longer

<div class="copy"> Those who think enjoying a good dose of culture is <a rel="noopener" href="https://www.collinsdictionary.com/dictionary/english/arty-farty" target="_blank">arty-farty</a> could be missing out, with a new study linking arts appreciation to living longer. Researchers at University College London, UK, found that people who regularly go to the theatre, concerts, the opera, museums or art galleries have a lower risk of dying than those who refrain. This adds to <a rel="noopener" href="http://www.euro.who.int/en/publications/abstracts/what-is-the-evidence-on-the-role-of-the-arts-in-improving-health-and-well-being-a-scoping-review-2019" target="_blank">evidence</a> linking art engagement with physical health and wellbeing. The “universality of art and the strong emotional responses it induces”, leads some researchers to suggest it has evolutionary benefits, write Daisy Fancourt and Andrew Steptoe, although others question whether art is “an evolutionary parasite”. Fancourt and Steptoe argue that creativity and imagination have been linked to increased survival throughout human <a rel="noopener" href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/19900185" target="_blank">evolution</a> and that arts engagement enhances cognition, empathy, social perception and emotional intelligence. The arts could also give life a greater sense of meaning, reduce risk taking behaviours, get people out and reduce sedentary behaviour and loneliness – all of which are associated with better health outcomes. Titled “The art of life and death”, the study, <a rel="noopener" href="https://dx.doi.org/10.1136/bmj.l6377" target="_blank">published</a> in the journal BMJ, followed more than 6000 adults aged 50 and older for 14 years in the English Longitudinal Study of Aging (<a rel="noopener" href="https://www.elsa-project.ac.uk/" target="_blank">ELSA</a>). Participants self-reported arts engagement at the study’s inception, along with a comprehensive range of demographic, behavioural, socio-economic and health factors. Mortality data was sourced from National Health Service records. While cognition, mental health and physical activity were protective, arts involvement was independently linked to lower mortality after these variables were factored in, and this persisted through several analyses. Overall, people who engaged in the arts once or twice a year had a 14% lower chance of dying than those who never got involved, while enjoying culture more regularly was associated with a 31% lower risk. The study’s strengths include its size and scope, although the researchers acknowledge that it only recorded arts engagement at one time point and it was observational. In a related <a rel="noopener" href="https://dx.doi.org/10.1136/bmj.l6774" target="_blank">commentary</a>, Nicola Gill and co-authors from Canterbury Christ Church University, UK, note that people with lung disease, depression or loneliness, who could derive the most benefits, were least likely to engage in the arts. “Work must now be done to ensure that the health benefits of these activities are accessible to those who would benefit most,” they write – including children. “The current study should add weight to growing concerns about the decline in arts subjects and music in schools and universities.” Image credits: Getty Images  <img id="cosmos-post-tracker" style="opacity: 0; height: 1px!important; width: 1px!important; border: 0!important; position: absolute!important; z-index: -1!important;" src="https://syndication.cosmosmagazine.com/?id=34527&title=Culture+vultures+may+live+longer" alt="" width="1" height="1" />  </div> <div id="contributors"> This article was originally published on <a rel="noopener" href="https://cosmosmagazine.com/people/society/culture-vultures-may-live-longer/" target="_blank">cosmosmagazine.com</a> and was written by Natalie Parletta. </div>

Art

How plant-based meat is stretching New Zealand’s cultural and legal boundaries

Earlier this year, the New Zealand-based pizza chain <a href="https://www.stuff.co.nz/life-style/food-wine/78790234/the-history-of-hell-pizza">Hell Pizza</a> offered a limited-edition “Burger Pizza”. Its customers weren’t told that the “meat” was plant-based. Some customers <a href="https://www.stuff.co.nz/business/113824494/hell-pizza-covertly-dishes-up-beyond-meat-burger-patties">complained</a> to the Commerce Commission, which enforces consumer law in New Zealand. Yet, <a href="https://www.stuff.co.nz/business/113867599/scorned-hell-pizza-customers-bitter-over-fake-burger-meat">others</a> did not mind – or even appreciated – the move. The Commerce Commission, however, warned that the stunt likely breached consumer protection law. Hell Pizza’s ruse should catalyse discussion around the scope and purpose of consumer law, the culture of meat consumption and the future of animal farming. Under current law, “teaching through deception” is not possible. But we argue that consumer law needs to adopt a more nuanced approach. Traditional legal approach In October, the Commerce Commission <a href="https://comcom.govt.nz/case-register/case-register-entries/the-depths-lp-ta-hell-pizza/media-releases/commission-warns-hell-pizza-over-burger-pizza">warned</a> the pizza chain that it had probably breached the <a href="http://www.legislation.govt.nz/act/public/1986/0121/latest/DLM96439.html">Fair Trading Act 1986</a>. In particular, it had likely made false or misleading representations. The Commerce Commission <a href="https://comcom.govt.nz/__data/assets/pdf_file/0034/178792/Warning-letter-to-The-Depths-LP-trading-as-Hell-Pizza-Redacted-25-September-2019.pdf">stated</a> that a “burger traditionally includes a patty of minced beef” and “medium-rare is a term associated with meat, usually beef”. As a result, the pizza chain advised it had <a href="https://comcom.govt.nz/__data/assets/pdf_file/0034/178792/Warning-letter-to-The-Depths-LP-trading-as-Hell-Pizza-Redacted-25-September-2019.pdf">no intention</a> of engaging in this kind of campaign again. Interestingly, the pizza company has recently announced that the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TbaEo19Oc9k">Burger Pizza is back on the menu</a>. Australia’s consumer law around misleading and deceptive conduct is notably similar to New Zealand’s. In Australia, <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-09-15/push-to-ban-milk-meat-seafood-labels-on-plant-based-produce/11513754">debates</a> around the meaning of the terms “milk”, “seafood” and “meat” are taking place. These discussions present an opportunity to rethink some of our conventions. When is meat meat? The traditional need to protect consumers from deceptive practices is clear. That said, it is perhaps also time to nudge consumers to reconsider their preconceptions and consumption of meat. Hell Pizza said it launched its plant-based meat product out of concerns for the future of the planet. According to the company, <a href="https://hellpizza.com/wickedpedia/2019/07/03/burger-pizza-statement">80% of consumers did not have an issue with being duped</a>, and 70% would order the pizza again. There are a few good reasons to reduce the amount of meat we eat. <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/19339402">Research shows</a> that meat consumption is putting pressure on the environment. The amount of food and water required to raise animals for consumption <a href="https://news.cornell.edu/stories/1997/08/us-could-feed-800-million-people-grain-livestock-eat">exceeds</a> the nutrient value humans get from consuming meat. Further, livestock create <a href="https://ehp.niehs.nih.gov/doi/full/10.1289/ehp.11034">waste and emissions</a> that contribute to climate change. Plant-based meat may be more environmentally friendly. It also eliminates concerns around animal rights. Additionally, it is often perceived as a <a href="https://pdfs.semanticscholar.org/cf90/d287aa226b483aed430ff4f0432081bfd3d7.pdf">healthier alternative</a>. Future foods The plant-based meat industry faces two immediate challenges. The first is taste. If meat substitutes do not taste as good as animal-based meat, people will be <a href="http://freakonomics.com/podcast/meat/">less willing to consume them</a>. The second main challenge is cost. If plant-based meat is significantly more expensive than animal-based meat, consumers may opt for the latter. The cost of plant-based meat has become affordable enough for prominent market players, such as <a href="https://www.stuff.co.nz/business/116767086/dominos-adds-plantbased-meat-to-its-pizza-menu">Dominoes Pizza</a> and <a href="https://www.stuff.co.nz/business/farming/116657991/burger-king-finds-recipe-for-success-with-its-impossible-whopper">Burger King</a>, to offer plant-based products. Hell Pizza was not the first New Zealand company to offer its consumers plant-based meat products. In another controversy, Air New Zealand offered plant-based burgers in the business cabin on selected flights. This led to some criticism, including the deputy prime minister, Winston Peters, who was acting prime minister at the time, complaining that it was a “<a href="https://www.stuff.co.nz/business/farming/105216779/air-nzs-impossible-burger-criticised-by-former-primary-industries-minister">bad look</a>” for the airline not to promote New Zealand meat. Such a response is short-sighted. Animal farming is an important industry in New Zealand, <a href="http://www.environmentguide.org.nz/activities/agriculture/">contributing significantly</a> to the economy and social fabric. Because of its importance, New Zealanders should take seriously the potential impact of plant-based meat and the consequences of this emerging market. Market disruption Some companies have already stated their aspiration to completely <a href="http://freakonomics.com/podcast/meat/">replace animals as a food production technology</a> by 2035. The meat industry is likely to use its power to protect its interests. But these interests are not the only ones that should be voiced and considered. Instead of merely criticising companies that offer meat alternatives and use innovative marketing tools to do so, we should embrace these initiatives as an opportunity to rethink some of our conventions. We need to adapt to new realities in ways that make our societies more ethical, while also encouraging consumers to be more mindful of the environment and health-related aspects of their foods. The boundaries of consumer law should reflect this. The law regulates against misleading and deceptive conduct mainly because it is purportedly bad for consumers. However, the law should adopt a more holistic approach - one that considers the motivation for the allegedly misleading behaviour. Protecting consumers from deceptive conduct is not an end in itself. Perhaps the degree and context of the misleading behaviour should be considered against other legitimate objectives. We believe that such legitimate objectives include caring for the environment, minimising animal cruelty and advancing public health. Written by Samuel Becher and Jessica C Lai. Republished with permission of <a href="https://theconversation.com/how-plant-based-meat-is-stretching-new-zealands-cultural-and-legal-boundaries-127901">The Conversation.</a>

Legal

Space Oddity at 50: The novelty song that became a cultural touchstone

When the 22-year-old David Bowie penned Space Oddity, a song that would ultimately become a <a href="https://bowiesongs.wordpress.com/2009/11/11/space-oddity/">recognised</a> classic, he was a burgeoning pop artist without a record deal. A folk singer without a gig, a sometime mime, and a purveyor of <a href="https://youtu.be/NUiboPRPOzo">ice creams</a>. His first serious relationship, with the actress <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2019/feb/01/david-bowie-girl-mousy-hair-muse">Hermione Farthingale</a>, was in free fall. It was December 1968, and Bowie’s manager Kenneth Pitt was collating a promotional film to pimp his client’s wares to London television and film producers. He requested Bowie pen a “special piece of new material” to contemporise the otherwise retrospective nature of the film. And then, on Christmas Eve, astronaut Bill Anders captured his iconic photograph of Earth from the Apollo 8 spacecraft while circumnavigating the Moon. The Earthrise image was still resonating in the public’s imagination when Bowie retreated to his room in Clareville Grove, London to write his space cabaret. Composing on a 12-string Hagstrom guitar with a little sonic weirdness from a Stylophone given to him by <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marc_Bolan">Marc Bolan</a>, he came up with Space Oddity. A blatant commercial object, a “pragmatic” turn by a fledgling artist, the song would become an anthem for space exploration for decades (and for TV news obituaries on the occasion of Bowie’s <a href="https://youtu.be/mH3-HV2WDdQ">death</a> in 2016). Space Oddity tells of an astronaut Major Tom, launched into space in a manner akin to the Apollo missions. Yet in this instance all does not go according to plan and he is left adrift in the abyss of space, “floating ‘round my tin can, far above the Moon.” At the time it was considered a “novelty song” to hang alongside other opportunists riding the vapor trails of the <a href="https://www.nasa.gov/audience/forstudents/5-8/features/nasa-knows/what-was-the-saturn-v-58.html">Saturn V</a>. (<a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2019/06/29/fashion/watches-omega-speedmaster-moonwatch-anniversary.html">Omega</a> watches, <a href="https://www.orlandosentinel.com/space/apollo-11-anniversary/os-ne-apollo-11-tang-20190704-ahrgsi5hmfdunfy4ldazrgvkr4-story.html">Tang</a>, <a href="https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/first-energy-bar">Space Food Sticks</a> etc). Bowie was acutely aware of the commercialisation of the space exploration story, of course. “You have really made the grade, and the papers want to know whose shirts you wear,” exalts ground control as Tom hurtles towards the heavens. Eschewing the typical pop song template, Bowie designed the piece as if it was a dramatic play. “I think I wanted to write a new kind of musical,” he <a href="https://slate.com/culture/2015/12/david-bowie-and-enda-walsh-musical-lazarus-reviewed.html">reflected</a> in 2002, “and that’s how I saw my future at the time.” The song – one of his earliest and perhaps most outrageous musical assemblages – is also indicative of the artist he would become, a restless creative magpie perched by the wireless, plucking phrases and vocal stylings from the inbound radio waves. The definitive version, recorded in late June 1969 at Trident Studios, was pressed and released as a single within three weeks – on July 11 – to leverage the hype of the impending Apollo moon landing. It also sealed a new recording deal with Mercury Records. Bowie was back. However, his long-time producing partner <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tony_Visconti">Tony Visconti</a> refused to work on the song, citing it as a distasteful departure from the singer’s hippie folk leanings. Visconti’s unease led him to recommend <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gus_Dudgeon">Gus Dudgeon</a> (who would later work with Elton John) as producer. The song’s adventurous orchestration and unsettling harmonics owe much to Dudgeon’s ambition. Through resonance, tone and unexpected harmonic shifts Bowie and Dudgeon achieved a meta-pop song full of cultural and musical references. There are lyrical and tonal references to the Bee Gees’ <a href="https://youtu.be/S43YhQ_eGTw">New York Mining Disaster 1941</a> while an acoustic passage signposts <a href="https://youtu.be/gP3-TU6xPvc">Old Friends</a> by Simon & Garfunkel. Even the metallic chimes of the Stylophone recall the pulsating intro of the Beatles’ <a href="https://youtu.be/t1Jm5epJr10">I Am The Walrus</a>. This was music for space, both inside and out, an experimental sonic palette that would open up a whole <a href="https://www.technologyreview.com/s/613762/space-music-drugs/">new genre</a> of musical art direction. Of course, Kubrick’s <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0062622/">2001: A Space Odyssey</a> hangs heavily over proceedings. The two works are not only linked by name, but by their respective critiques of the cultural zeitgeist of “space fever”. A sense of melancholia and detachment permeates Bowie’s recording. Yet, Major Tom’s predicament – floating in a tin can far above the world – is perhaps not the perilous event we might suspect. He seems quite OK with it all. Even his observation that there is “nothing I can do” comes across as somewhat of a relief. We are never really sure whether the communication breakdown with ground control was accidental or by design. In Norman Mailer’s Apollo 11 chronicle <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/238970.Of_a_Fire_on_the_Moon">Of a Fire on the Moon</a>, he notes that the “obvious pleasure” of the astronaut, “was to be alone in the sky”. Rushing towards the stars Still, in a 1980 <a href="https://www.npr.org/sections/therecord/2017/10/06/555850186/how-ashes-to-ashes-put-the-first-act-of-david-bowies-career-to-rest">interview</a>, Bowie revealed Major Tom’s dilemma was a comment on what he saw at the time as the limits of American exceptionalism: Here we had the great blast of American technological know-how shoving this guy up into space, but once he gets there, he’s not quite sure why he’s there. And that’s where I left him. For such a challenging work, the press reaction in Britain to Space Oddity was largely positive, Tony Palmer, writing in the Observer, appreciated the song’s cynical air at a time when “we cling pathetically to every moonman’s dribbling joke, when we admire unquestioningly the so-called achievement of our helmeted heroes.” Music journalist Penny Valentine’s review for the ensuing album, which would feature Space Oddity as the lead track, observed that Bowie had captured “the rather frightening atmosphere we all live in as the backdrop to his songs.” Indeed, come July 1969, the promise of the sixties and the hippy trip of the free love movement were a few festivals and a bunch of ghoulish murders away from coming to an end. The sense of being adrift like Major Tom was not just a fantasy construction any more. The song’s television debut would be on July 20 when the BBC aired the track during the Apollo broadcast, albeit after the Lunar Module had safely touched down. A scenario that even surprised Bowie – “of course, I was overjoyed that they did”. Despite its contrived beginnings, Bowie designed a cultural touchstone for a historic moment of human engineering and blind courage. Even 50 years hence, he appears to us fully formed on Space Oddity as a moonstruck balladeer and completely in synch with the times. The immaculately dressed changeling who would go on to hit the glam rock jackpot with his alien stage persona <a href="https://youtu.be/3qrOvBuWJ-c">Ziggy Stardust</a>. A character who captured the abrasive temperament of the moment as he straddled the jet-trails of our collective rushing towards the stars. Written by Mitch Goodwin. Republished with permission of <a href="https://theconversation.com/space-oddity-at-50-the-novelty-song-that-became-a-cultural-touchstone-120071">The Conversation</a>.

Movies

Who’s a tourist? How a culture of travel is changing everyday life

Every year, on September 27, the global tourism community celebrates <a href="http://wtd.unwto.org/">World Tourism Day</a>. This year’s theme is about community development and how tourism can contribute to empowering people and improve socio-economic conditions in local communities. But who are the people who might visit “communities” and what does it mean – these days – to be a tourist? There are many tourist stereotypes – an overweight Westerner in shorts with a camera dangling around their neck, or maybe a trekking-shoed backpacker hanging out in the Himalayas. Many people think of “tourism” and “holidays” as distinct times of the year when the family travels to the seaside or the mountains. World Tourism Day is an opportunity to discuss how much more encompassing the phenomenon of tourism is than most people might think. What is a tourist? People are more often a “tourist” than they realise. The United Nations World Tourism Organisation broadly defines a tourist as anyone travelling away from home for more than one night and less than one year. So, mobility is at the core of tourism. In Australia, for example, in 2013 <a href="http://www.tra.gov.au/documents/NVS_onepager_Dec2013_FINAL_07032014.pdf">75.8 million</a> people travelled domestically for an overnight trip – spending 283 million visitor nights and $51.5 billion. Reasons for travel are manifold and not restricted to holidays, which makes up only 47% of all domestic trips in Australia. Other reasons include participation in sport events, visiting a friend or relative, or business meetings. Some of the most-visited destinations in the world are not related to leisure but to other purposes. For example, pilgramage tourism to Mecca (Saudi Arabia) triples the population from its normal 2 million <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hajj">during the Hajj</a> period every year. Travel, work and leisure: what’s the difference? Tourists are not what they used to be. One of the most pervasive changes in the structure of modern life is the crumbling divide between the spheres of work and life. This is no more obvious than in relation to travel. Let me test the readers of The Conversation: who is checking their work emails while on holiday? A <a href="http://www.gfi.com/blog/survey-worklife-divide-the-gap-has-all-but-disappeared-thanks-to-email-infographic/">recent survey</a> undertaken in the US showed that 44.8% of respondents check their work email at least once a day outside work hours. Further, 29.8% of respondents use their work email for personal purposes. Post-modern thinkers have long pointed to processes where work becomes leisure and leisure cannot be separated from work anymore. Ever-increasing mobility means the tourist and the non-tourist become more and more alike. The classic work-leisure divide becomes particularly fluid for those who frequently engage in travel, for example to attend business meetings or conferences. Conferences are often held at interesting locations, inviting longer stays and recreational activities not only for participants but also for spouses and family. Further, city business hotels increasingly resemble tourist resorts: both have extensive recreational facilities such as swimming pools and spas, multiple restaurants and often shopping opportunities (e.g. <a href="http://www.marinabaysands.com/index.html">Marina Bay Sands, Singapore</a>). And, of course, they offer internet access – to be connected to both work and private “business”. Understanding how people negotiate this liquidity while travelling provides interesting insights into much broader societal changes in terms of how people organise their lives. For some entrepreneurial destinations these trends have provided an opportunity; namely the designation of so-called <a href="http://ro.uow.edu.au/buspapers/137/">dead zones</a> – areas where no mobile phone and no internet access are available. Here the tourist can fully immerse in the real locality of their stay. Fear of missing out The perceived need to connect virtually to “friends” (e.g. on Facebook) and colleagues has attracted substantial psychological research interest, with new terms being coined such as <a href="http://www.news.com.au/lifestyle/real-life/how-fomo-fear-of-missing-out-is-ruining-my-life/story-fnixwvgh-1226862030711">FOMO (fear of missing out)</a> addiction, or internet addiction disorder. A recent <a href="http://www.tnooz.com/article/facebook-users-cite-travel-most-often-as-their-biggest-life-moments-infographic/">Facebook survey</a> found that this social media outlet owes much of its popularity to travel – 42% of stories shared related to travel. The motivations for engaging in extensive social media use and implications for tourism marketing are an active area of tourism research. Thus, understanding why and what people share while travelling (i.e. away from loved ones, but possibly earning important “social status” points) might provide important insights into wider questions of social networks and identity formation, especially among younger people. Tourism and emigration The increasingly global nature of networks has been discussed in detail by sociologist <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/john-urry-14141">John Urry</a> and others. They note the growing interconnectedness between tourism and migration, where families are spread over the globe and (cheap) air travel enables social networks to connect regularly. As a result, for many people local communities have given way to global communities, with important implications for people’s “sense of place” and resilience. The global nature of personal networks extends to business relationships where the degree to which one is globally connected determines one’s “network capital”. Urry also noted that mobility has become a differentiation factor between the “haves” and “have nots”, with a small elite of hypermobile “connectors”. Thus travel and tourism sit at the core of a potentially new structure of leaders and influential decision makers. The global ‘share economy’ Engaging in this global community of tourists is not restricted to those who travel actively. The so-called <a href="http://www.forbes.com/pictures/eeji45emgkh/airbnb-snapgoods-and-12-more-pioneers-of-the-share-economy/">Share Economy</a>, where people rent out their private homes (e.g. AirBnB), share taxi rides or dinners, has brought tourism right into the living rooms of those who wish to engage with people who they may not meet otherwise. Potentially this parallel “tourism industry” provides a unique opportunity for bringing people together and achieving peace through tourism (see <a href="http://www.iipt.org/">International Institute for Peace through Tourism</a>). A whole new area for research travellers, “guests and hosts” and their economic impacts, is emerging. In a nutshell, tourism is much more than the service industry it is usually recognised for, both in practice and as a field of academic enquiry. Tourism and the evolving nature of travellers provide important insights into societal changes, challenges and opportunities. Engaging with tourism and travel also provides us with an excellent opportunity to better understand trends that might foster or impede sustainable development more broadly. Written by Susanne Becken. Republished with permission of <a href="https://theconversation.com/whos-a-tourist-how-a-culture-of-travel-is-changing-everyday-life-30896">The Conversation</a>.

Travel Tips

Exploring Bali: An island of culture and tradition

There’s really something quite special about Bali – and forget the hype, the reality is far more impressive. Too many don’t experience the real essence of the Island of the Gods, which, once you find it, appears to lodge itself firmly in your heart. Discover (or rediscover) an island steeped in culture and tradition which has remained largely unchanged for hundreds of years, with a dash of astounding natural beauty. Leave Kuta to the party animals and check out Bali’s east coast. Around the same distance from the airport as the very touristy west coast, Sanur is the perfect mix of tranquillity with a load of dining and entertainment thrown in. Sitting on the edge of a large, shallow reef, the calm waters are perfect for a long ocean swim, kayaking at dawn, or quiet float carried only by the tide as it moves in and out. Hire a jukung (a local boat) and take a leisurely sail or cast a line and do some fishing. The five-kilometre, tree-lined beach has a heavenly walkable path for a stroll or bicycle ride with plenty of restaurants and cafes for an impromptu freshly juiced watermelon, cocktail or a nice cold Bintang – the extremely drinkable local beer. Fill your shopping bag while wandering the small market stalls and enjoy the banter while bartering with friendly locals without huge crowds of tourists. Sanur’s main street (Jalan Danau Tamblingan) is great for a walk too. Adjacent to the beach select from an increasing number of eateries from fine dining to relaxed cafes. Even with the inevitable hum of taxis and motorbikes, there’s a relaxed rhythm that’s far removed from the hectic bustle of Kuta, Seminyak and Legian. <img style="width: 0px; height: 0px;" src="https://oversixtydev.blob.core.windows.net/media/7827284/bali-1.jpg" alt="" data-udi="umb://media/bf2a990fcc6b42a48759de53a008bb55" /> To the south of Jalan Tamblingan, the road twists through the oldest part of Sanur where the trees seem taller and the atmosphere notably changes. There’s a couple of larger resorts down this end yet there’s a sense of authenticity and discovery in the variety of tiny shops, spas, cafes and restaurants, and an even slower pace. The road curves back to the beach (pantai) where a litany of small market stalls and warungs (small local food stalls) filled with the smells of barbecued corn on the cob, satay sticks and nasi goreng (fried rice) entice the tastebuds. Unlike the other side of the island, the locals enjoy the beach as much as the visitors which is why Sanur seems so different. This is also the location for the famed Kite Festival during Bali’s windy season each June, where locals compete with the largest and most creative kites you’re likely to ever see. Sanur is also home to elite Hindu priests and legends of sorcery abound. Streets often close down for ceremonial processions from the banjar (local village councils) to the temples for all manner of celebrations, blessings and special religious days. Bali’s first hotels were actually built in Sanur and attracted writers and artists, largely from Europe although Australian Donald Friend resided here for twenty years in the 60’s and 70’s. Even further back, Brussels-born artist Adrien-Jean Le Mayeur fell in love with the island and spent his life there from 1932 till his passing in 1958, marrying his muse – a local Legong dancer. A snapshot of his idyllic life remains at his beachside Sanur home, now the Le Mayeur Museum, which is open to the public. Ubud, around a thirty-minute drive from Sanur, is undoubtedly the artistic hub of Bali. The lush, jungle hinterland is revealing a number of new villas, homestays and hilltop restaurants. Spend an afternoon lazing beside the chic infinity pool at Jungle Fish while grazing from its fine menu or climb a volcano if you’re feeling energetic. Mount Agung and Batur are a worthwhile trek for sunrise from the summit. Enjoy a morning tea amidst the spectacular landscape of Ubud Hanging Gardens and take a walk or bicycle ride through the rice paddies while a local guide shares his knowledge of the island’s unique herbs and spices growing alongside them. Splash out on a five-star eco-retreat or spend a couple of nights in a small homestay on Ubud’s main drag – Monkey Forest Road. From as little as $25 per night, it’s a great option for a base while you wander the town and explore the myriad of tiny artisan villages in the pretty mountainous surrounds with a private driver. Save at least one day for a visit to Tirta Empul – one of Bali’s holiest temples and home to bubbling hot springs, considered spiritually and physically purifying. Back on the east coast, take a trip up north. Around a twenty-minute drive from Sanur, and home to a number of famed international surfing competitions, Keramas Beach is spectacular. Spend a day at Komune Resort and Beach Club and watch some amazing surfing skills in style from your underwater infinity pool seats and gigantic sunbeds. The volcanic, black sand beach is framed by giant bending palms that appear to sway in time with the crashing ocean. Stay in a beachfront pool suite or villa breathing in the fresh sea air and complete serenity, free from crowds and civilisation. Further north the tiny coastal village of Candidasa is gaining in popularity with visitors, but not enough to lose its magic. Oceanside homestays and small hotels dot the coast and there are many day trips you can take to inhale more of the real Bali essence. Forget what you’ve heard, the island has so much to offer. Try everything from the spa menus, take Balinese cooking lessons, visit the markets where locals shop in Denpasar and explore the hinterland and magical east coast. Flash resorts and raked sand are aplenty if that’s what you prefer but there’s only one true Bali. Find it and it will never leave your heart. Written by Anita Duffin. Republished with permission of <a href="https://www.mydiscoveries.com.au/stories/bali-experience-the-real-essence-of-the-island-of-the-gods/">MyDiscoveries.</a>

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