Author: MIL OSI Publisher

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Keith Rathbone, Senior Lecturer, Modern European History and Sports History, Macquarie University

Since the murder of 11 Israeli hostages at the 1972 Munich Summer Olympics, security has been fundamental for games stakeholders.

The 2024 Paris games set new benchmarks for security at a mega-event, and now the presence of American security officials in Milan Cortina threatens to darken this year’s Winter Olympics before they even start.

Security at the games

The scale of security at the games has magnified considerably since the 1970s.

For the 2024 Olympics, the French government mobilised an unprecedented 45,000 police officers from around the nation.

For the opening ceremony, these forces cordoned off six kilometres of the Seine River.

Advocates point to Paris as an example of security done correctly.

Milipol Paris – one of the world’s largest annual conferences on policing and security – pointed to lower crime across the country during the games and a complete absence of any of the feared large security events. It stated:

The operation demonstrated the effectiveness of advanced planning, inter-agency cooperation and strong logistical coordination. Authorities and observers are now reflecting on which elements of the Paris 2024 model might be applied to future large-scale events.

However, critics complained the security measures infringed on civil liberties.

Controversy as ICE heads to Italy

Ahead of the Milan Cortina games, which run from February 4-23, Italian officials promised they were “ready to meet the challenge of security”.

A newly established cybersecurity headquarters will include officials from around the globe, who will sift through intelligence reports and react to issues in real time.

As well as this, security will feature:

• 6,000 officers to protect the two major locations – Milan and Cortina d’Ampezzo
• a no-fly zone around key sites
• a constant restricted access cordon around some sites (as seen in Paris).

Some of the security officers working in the cybersecurity headquarters will come from the United States.

Traditionally the US diplomatic security service provides protection for US athletes and officials attending mega-events overseas. It has been involved in the games since 1976.

Late last month, however, news broke that some of the officers will be from “a unit of US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE)”.

US and Italian officials were quick to differentiate between Homeland Security Investigations (HSI), which handles cross-border crime, and Enforcement and Removal Operations, the department responsible for the brutal crackdown on immigrant communities across the US.

The HSI has helped protect athletes at previous events and will be stationed at the US Consulate in Milan to provide support to the broader US security team at the games.

But the organisation’s reputation precedes them, and Italians are wary.

In Milan, demonstrators expressed outrage. Left-wing Mayor Giuseppe Sala called ICE a “a militia that kills” while protests broke out in the host cities.

Read more:
Shooting of Alex Pretti in Minneapolis has put America’s gun lobby at odds with the White House

US-European relations are stretched

The presence of ICE has also illuminated fractures within Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni’s governing coalition.

Foreign Minister Antonio Tajani defended the inclusion of the US officers, saying “it’s not like the SS are coming”, referring to the Nazis paramilitary force in Germany.

However, local officials, including those from Meloni’s centre-right coalition, expressed concerns.

The tension inside Meloni’s government reflects broader concerns on the continent about US-European relations.

US Vice President JD Vance and Secretary of State Marco Rubio will attend the opening ceremony in Milan, despite some Europeans viewing Vance as the mouthpiece for US President Donald Trump’s imperial agenda.

Read more:
The Making of an Autocrat: podcast out now

Trump’s desire to take over Greenland has undermined American and European support for trans-Atlantic amity and the NATO alliance.

Just ahead of the Olympics, Danish veterans marched outside the US Embassy after Trump disparaged NATO’s contribution to US-led operations in Iraq and Afghanistan. These protests added to Danes’ fears about Trump’s Greenland ambition.

Tensions in Denmark remain high as the Americans and the Danes gear up to play ice hockey in the opening round robin of the men’s competition.

Elsewhere, politicians in the US on both sides have raised concerns that Trump’s bombastic rhetoric will make it harder for American athletes to compete and win.

A double standard?

Critics argue there is an American exception when it comes to global politics interfering in international sport.

Under Trump, the US has attacked Iran and Venezuela, called on Canada to become its 51st state, threatened to occupy Greenland and engaged in cross-border operations in Mexico.

Despite this, US competitors can still wear their nation’s colours at the Olympics.

Compare this to Belarussian and Russian athletes, who are only eligible to compete as Individual Neutral Athletes after the Russian invasion of Ukraine, and only under the condition they have not been publicly supportive of the invasion. An International Olympic Committee (IOC) body assesses each competitor’s eligibility.

Israeli athletes have also been under the spotlight amid geopolitical tensions in the region.

Following the Israeli invasion of Gaza in October 2023, a panel of independent experts at the United Nations urged soccer’s governing body FIFA to ban Israeli athletes, stating:

sporting bodies must not turn a blind eye to grave human rights violations.

But FIFA, and the IOC, have recently defended Israeli athletes’ right to participate in international sport in the face of boycotts and protests.

Competitors from Israel can represent their country at the Winter Olympics.

The political developments which have caused ructions worldwide ironically come after the IOC’s 2021 decision to update the Olympic motto to supposedly recognise the “unifying power of sport and the importance of solidarity”.

The change was a simple one, adding the word “together” after the original three-word motto: “faster, higher, stronger”.

It remains to be seen whether the Milan Cortina games live up to every aspect of the “faster, higher, stronger – together” motto, not just the first three words.

Keith Rathbone does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Winter Olympic security tightens as US-European tensions grow – https://theconversation.com/winter-olympic-security-tightens-as-us-european-tensions-grow-274530

Evening Report: https://eveningreport.nz/2026/02/04/winter-olympic-security-tightens-as-us-european-tensions-grow-274530/

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By T.J. Thomson, Associate Professor of Visual Communication & Digital Media, RMIT University

Instagram is one of Australia’s most popular social media platforms. Almost two in three Aussies have an account.

Ushering in 2026 and what he calls “synthetic everything” on our feeds, Head of Instagram Adam Mosseri has signalled the platform will likely adjust its algorithms to surface more original content instead of AI slop.

Finding ways to tackle widespread AI content is the latest in a long series of shifts Instagram has undergone over the past decade. Some are obvious and others are more subtle. But all affect user experience and behaviour, and, more broadly, how we see and understand the online social world.

To identify some of these patterns, I examined ten years’ worth of Instagram posts from a single account (@australianassociatedpress) for an upcoming study.

This involved looking at nearly 2,000 posts and more than 5,000 media assets. I selected the AAP account as an example of a noteworthy Australian account with public service value.

I found six key shifts over this timeframe. Although user practices vary, this analysis provides a glimpse into some larger ways the AAP account – and social media more broadly – has been changing in the past decade.

Reflecting on some of these changes also provides hints at how social media might change in the future, and what that means for society.

1. Media orientations have shifted

When it launched in 2010, Instagram quickly became known as the platform that re-popularised the square image format. Square photography has been around for more than 100 years but its popularity waned in the 1980s when newer cameras made the non-square rectangular format dominant.

Instagram forced users to post square images for the platform’s first five years. However, the balance between square and horizontal images has given way to vertical media over time.

On the AAP account that shift happened over the last two years, with 84.4% of all its posts now in vertical orientation.

2. Media types have changed

As with orientations, the media types being posted have also changed. This is due, in part, to platform affordances: what the platform allows or enables a user to do.

As an example, Instagram didn’t allow users to post videos until 2013, three years after the platform started. It added the option to post “stories” (short-lived image/video posts of up to 15 seconds) and live broadcasts in 2016. Reels (longer-lasting videos of up to 90 seconds) came later in 2020.

Some accounts are more video-heavy than others, to try to compete with other video-heavy platforms such as YouTube and TikTok. But we can see a larger trend in the shift from single-image posts to multi-asset posts. Instagram calls these “carousels”, a feature introduced in 2017.

The AAP went from publishing just single-image posts in the first years of the account to gradually using more carousels. In the most recent year, they accounted for 85.9% of all posts.

3. Media are becoming more multimodal

A typical Instagram account grid from the mid-2000s had a mix of carefully curated photographs that were clean, colourful and simple in composition.

Fast-forward a decade, and posts have become much more multimodal. Text is being overlaid on images and videos and the compositions are mixing media types more frequently.

There are subtitles on videos, labels on photos, quote cards, and “headline” posts that try to tell a mini story on the post itself without the user having to read the accompanying post description.

On the AAP account, the proportion of text on posts never rose above 10% between 2015 and 2024. Then, in 2025, it skyrocketed to being on 84.4% of its posts.

4. User practices change

Over time, user practices have also changed in response to cultural trends and changes of the platform design itself.

An example of this is social media accounts starting to insert hashtags in a post comment rather than directly in the post description. This is supposed to help the post’s algorithmic ranking.

Another key change over this timeframe was Instagram’s decision in 2019 to hide “likes” on posts. The thinking behind this decision was to try to reduce the pressure on account owners to make content that was driven by the number of “like” interactions a post received. It was also hypothesised to help with users’ mental health.

In 2021, Instagram left it up to users to decide whether to show or hide “likes” on their account’s posts.

5. The platform became more commercialised

Instagram introduced a Shop tab in 2020 – users could now buy things without leaving the app.

The number of ads, sponsored posts, and suggested accounts has increased over time. Looking through your own feed, you might find that one-third to one-half of the content you now encounter was paid for.

6. The user experience shifts with algorithms and AI

Instagram introduced its “ranked feed” back in 2016. This meant that rather than seeing content in reverse chronological order, users would see content that an algorithm thought users would be interested in. These algorithms consider aspects such as account owner behaviour (view time, “likes”, comments) and what other users find engaging.

An option to opt back in to a reverse chronological feed was then introduced in 2022.

To compete with apps such as Snapchat, Instagram introduced augmented reality effects on the platform in 2017.

It also introduced AI-powered search in 2023, and has experimented with AI-powered profiles and other features. One of these is turning the content of a direct message into an AI image.

Looking ahead

Overall, we see more convergence and homogenisation.

Social media platforms are looking more similar as they seek to replicate the features of competitors. Media formats are looking more similar as the design of smartphones and software favour vertical media. Compositions are looking more multimodal as type, audio, still imagery, and video are increasingly mixed.

And, with the corresponding rise of AI-generated content, users’ hunger for authenticity might grow even more.

T.J. Thomson receives funding from the Australian Research Council. He is an affiliate with the ARC Centre of Excellence for Automated Decision Making & Society.

– ref. I studied 10 years of Instagram posts. Here’s how social media has changed – https://theconversation.com/i-studied-10-years-of-instagram-posts-heres-how-social-media-has-changed-272898

Evening Report: https://eveningreport.nz/2026/02/04/i-studied-10-years-of-instagram-posts-heres-how-social-media-has-changed-272898/

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Ben White, Professor of End-of-Life Law and Regulation, Australian Centre for Health Law Research, Queensland University of Technology

Voluntary assisted dying is now available almost everywhere in Australia. This means eligible adults can choose to end their lives with medical assistance.

In November 2025, the Australian Capital Territory voluntary assisted dying laws came into effect.

Of the states and territories, this leaves only the Northern Territory without voluntary assisted dying.

But the NT looks set to change its laws mid-year – and other states are reviewing their current legislation.

Here’s what to expect in 2026.

What might change in the NT this year?

In September 2025, a NT parliamentary committee recommended introducing voluntary assisted dying. It provided drafting instructions for a new bill to be written.

As 2026 began, the NT government announced it would introduce a voluntary assisted dying bill, set to be tabled mid-year. This will be decided by a conscience vote, as occurred elsewhere in Australia.

If the bill follows the national trend, it will pass. But local factors will be significant in the parliamentary debates and may influence how the law is written or implemented.

For example, the NT’s small population is spread out over a large expanse, and it has a higher proportion of Indigenous residents (30%) than other jurisdictions.

If a bill does pass, the laws are unlikely to come into effect for some time, to allow for the system to be properly set up. Based on timeframes elsewhere, territorians would likely have access to voluntary assisted dying in early 2028.

Will this ‘nationalise’ voluntary assisted dying?

Until now, voluntary assisted dying has largely been a matter for the separate states and territories. This has meant strict residency requirements in jurisdictions that allow it.

Currently, these requirements limit voluntary assisted dying access to people who have lived in the particular state or territory for a specified period (although there are some exemptions).

But if the NT joins the rest of the country and voluntary assisted dying is permitted nation-wide, these requirements are not needed.

Commonwealth law also currently bans using telehealth to discuss or arrange voluntary assisted dying for patients. This is due to pre-existing criminal legislation related to “suicide” – not specifically intended to apply to voluntary assisted dying.

There is a very simple legislative fix for this problem: explicitly stating that the ban does not apply to voluntary assisted dying consultations.

But it has not been on the federal political agenda. If voluntary assisted dying becomes available nationally, it will be harder to justify why this barrier remains.

What about existing laws?

Mandatory reviews of voluntary assisted dying laws may mean further changes are ahead.

Victoria was the first Australian state to introduce voluntary assisted dying, in 2017, and still has the most conservative model. It was also the first Australian state to review its law.

In late 2025, Victoria made some legislative amendments to improve access. Some of these changes, which will come into force in April 2027, include:

• allowing doctors to raise voluntary assisted dying with a patient (previously prohibited)

• extending the expected time until death 12 months for all conditions

• requiring conscientiously objecting medical and nurse practitioners to provide information about voluntary assisted dying to patients who ask about it.

These reforms will bring Victorian laws in line with some of the other Australian jurisdictions.

Western Australia has also completed its first review. This recommended changes to policy and practice to improve access and support for eligible people and voluntary assisted dying providers. In 2026, Tasmania, Queensland and New South Wales will also be reviewing their laws.

Significantly, the Queensland review will examine the eligibility criteria (who may access voluntary assisted dying). This was not a requirement of the Victorian and Western Australian reviews.

Law reform may also occur outside these mandatory reviews. In late 2025, the New South Wales parliament considered a proposal which would make it easier for residential facilities that object to voluntary assisted dying – including aged care facilities – to prevent it happening onsite.

This bill did not progress, but the issue remains contested.

What else will be on the agenda in 2026?

The ACT’s new laws give specific powers to nurse practitioners – in line with Canada, but a first in Australia. They are permitted to be one of the two required practitioners to assess eligibility (the other must be a doctor).

The ACT is also unique in not requiring someone to have a specific expected timeframe until death to be eligible. In other states, this is six or 12 months.

Still, we expect the types of conditions people will access voluntary assisted dying for will be similar to other jurisdictions. But ongoing monitoring of how the system is working in the ACT, and who is accessing it, will be important.

It is likely access for people with dementia will also continue to be debated in 2026.

Dementia is now the leading cause of death in Australia.

Unlike some other countries such as the Netherlands, Australia practically excludes access for people with dementia. While there are sustained public calls to change this, it is a complex issue that raises several ethical and practical challenges, including the time at which voluntary assisted dying should be available.

Voluntary assisted dying is now lawful and being accessed across most – and soon, potentially all – of the country. The focus will shift to improving current laws and systems.

These deliberations must be informed by evidence and public consultation. We need to ensure voluntary assisted dying remains safe, but also accessible, to people who are eligible.

We would like to acknowledge the contribution of Katherine Waller to this article.

Ben White has received funding from the Australian Research Council, the National Health and Medical Research Council, Commonwealth and state governments, and philanthropic organisations for research and training about the law, policy and practice relating to end-of-life care. In relation to voluntary assisted dying, he (with colleagues) has been engaged by the Victorian, Western Australian and Queensland governments to design and provide the legislatively mandated training for health practitioners involved in voluntary assisted dying in those states. He was appointed as an Expert Legal Advisor to the Legal and Constitutional Affairs Committee of the Legislative Assembly of the Northern Territory for its report on voluntary assisted dying and (with colleagues) developed the accompanying drafting instructions. He was also engaged (with colleagues) to provide a research report to support the Western Australian review of the voluntary assisted dying laws. He is a member of the Tasmanian Panel for the review of the End-of-Life Choices (Voluntary Assisted Dying) Act 2021. He (with Lindy Willmott) developed a model bill for voluntary assisted dying for parliaments to consider. Ben is a recipient of an Australian Research Council Future Fellowship (project number FT190100410: Enhancing End-of-Life Decision-Making: Optimal Regulation of Voluntary Assisted Dying) funded by the Australian government. He is also a Chief Investigator on a current Australian Research Council Linkage Project on voluntary assisted dying (partnering with Voluntary Assisted Dying (Review) Boards and/or Departments of Health in five Australian States.

Casey Haining was previously engaged as a legal writer for the Mandatory Queensland Voluntary Assisted Dying Training. She was also the appointed research fellow for the review of Western Australia’s Voluntary Assisted Dying Act 2019 (WA). She was also previously engaged as a research fellow on the Australian Research Council Future Fellowship project, Enhancing End-of-Life Decision-Making: Optimal Regulation of Voluntary Assisted Dying (project number FT190100410).

Katrine Del Villar was part of the team engaged by the Western Australian and Queensland governments to design and provide the legislatively mandated training for health practitioners involved in voluntary assisted dying in those states. She was part of the team engaged by the Legal and Constitutional Affairs Committee of the Legislative Assembly of the Northern Territory to develop drafting instructions for its report on voluntary assisted dying.

Madeleine Archer was part of the team engaged by the Victorian, Western Australian and Queensland governments to design and provide the legislatively mandated training for health practitioners involved in voluntary assisted dying in those states. She was part of the team engaged by the Legal and Constitutional Affairs Committee of the Legislative Assembly of the Northern Territory to develop drafting instructions for its report on voluntary assisted dying. Madeleine worked on the Australian Research Council Future Fellowship (project number FT190100410: Enhancing End-of-Life Decision-Making: Optimal Regulation of Voluntary Assisted Dying) funded by the Australian government. 

– ref. Voluntary assisted dying isn’t available to all Australians. In 2026, this may finally change – https://theconversation.com/voluntary-assisted-dying-isnt-available-to-all-australians-in-2026-this-may-finally-change-269098

Evening Report: https://eveningreport.nz/2026/02/04/voluntary-assisted-dying-isnt-available-to-all-australians-in-2026-this-may-finally-change-269098/

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Emily McIntyre, PhD candidate in Ecology, The University of Melbourne

Think truffles and you’ll probably think of France. But Australia is actually a global hotspot for truffle-like fungi, boasting hundreds of different species. Like culinary truffles, these truffle-like fungi produce underground sporing bodies rather than send up mushrooms.

Living underground has its challenges. Fungi which form mushrooms above ground can easily disperse their spores (the fungal equivalent to a plant’s seed) on the wind. But truffle-like fungi can’t do this. Instead, they rely on native mammals to follow their pungent smells, dig up the underground sporing body, eat it and disperse their spores in their scat.

Many native mammals eat fungi when they are easily available, including common brushtail possums (Trichosurus vulpecula), swamp wallabies (Wallabia bicolor), bush rats (Rattus fuscipes), and greater bilbies (Macrotis lagotis), but they generally don’t rely on them for a large part of their diet in the same way as potoroos and bettongs do. Among these fungi fans, there’s one species which stands out.

Australia’s most specialised fungi-eater is the long-footed potoroo (Potorous longipes), which relies on these fungi for over 90% of its diet. It’s likely to be one of the most fungi-dependent mammals in the world. Their nocturnal work digging up and eating fungi supports forests in southeastern Australia by helping to maintain the fungi-tree symbiosis.

The long-footed potoroo has long been rare due to habitat loss and fox predation. It’s been endangered for decades. Once considered more widespread, their range is now restricted to two regions between Victoria and New South Wales, much of which burned during the 2019-2020 megafires.

But there’s a newer threat: climate change.

In our new research, we analyse a rare long-term collection of potoroo scats. We found that as conditions get hotter, these potoroos are eating a much smaller range of fungi. This has significant implications for potoroo diets, fungal dispersal, and the health of our forests.

What’s in that scat?

Many truffle-like fungi live in ectomycorrhizal symbiosis with native trees such as eucalypts. This means they trade nutrients between their threadlike hyphae and the tree’s root system, a remarkably ancient relationship which supports tree growth and health and provides their fungal partners with a source of energy.

To explore whether climate change has been affecting the truffle-like fungi consumed by the long-footed potoroo, we partnered with colleagues at the Royal Botanic Gardens Victoria, CSIRO and the Victorian Department of Energy, Environment and Climate Action. We then turned to an extensive and extremely rare collection of potoroo scats.

These scats have been painstakingly collected over 23 years (1993-2016) by department staff. Collections of scats are enormously valuable to researchers, as they give us clear evidence of what an animal has been eating – and if their diets have changed over time.

We used DNA analysis to track which species of truffle-like fungi these potoroos had eaten over time. This process involved sequencing fungal DNA present in potoroo scats, and matching these DNA sequences to a fungal species database. This left us with a list of fungal species that were present in each potoroo scat.

Overall, we found potoroos ate fewer species of truffle-like fungi in warmer conditions. This trend was visible from season to season, as well as between years. As temperatures continue to increase due to climate change, we expect that long-footed potoroos will continue to consume fewer species of truffle-like fungi.

More heat, less fungal variety

During warm conditions, potoroos ate less of some genera of truffle-like fungi and more of others such as Mesophellia, a genus of truffle-like fungi producing hard-cased sporing bodies between five and 40 cm underground.

We already know these fungi are eaten in abundance by hungry bettongs after a bushfire. As climate change brings warmer temperatures, we expect Mesophellia may increasingly act as an important food source for long-footed potoroos when other resources are scarce.

Overall, our findings suggest climate change may make it harder for potoroos to get as wide a range of fungi to eat, which might make it harder for these marsupials to get the nutrients they need. The nutrition in sporing bodies varies widely between species, so eating a narrower fungal diet may mean less diverse nutrients.

If this happens, it’s possible potoroos could shift their diets and eat more insects or plants. But it’s not a guarantee, given these animals are such specialised fungi-eaters.

This, in turn, could have wider flow-on effects. If potoroos consume fewer species of truffle-like fungi, some species may have fewer chances to spread around landscapes. If they become rarer, it could disrupt the long symbiosis between fungi and ectomycorrhizal forest trees in lowland coastal forests through to tall mountain forests.

This three-way relationship benefits long-footed potoroos, truffle-like fungi, and the native trees that form ectomycorrhizal partnerships with these fungi. Each member of this relationship depends on the others.

Ripple effects

Not many people have seen these shy potoroos. But they have an importance far beyond their modest size. The simple act of digging up and eating truffle-like fungi is vital for the potoroo, the fungi and the forests around them.

Many of Australia’s once-common digging marsupials have become rare or been driven to extinction since European colonisation. The long-footed potoroo, too, is endangered by historic and ongoing threats, ranging from habitat loss to fox predation to climate change.

We don’t know yet how climate change will affect the complex relationship between potoroo, fungi, and the forests around them. Understanding these complex relationships is essential if we are to protect them against an uncertain future.

Craig Nitschke receives funding from the Department of Energy, Environment and Climate Action, the Australian Research Council, and Australian Forest and Wood Innovations.

Emily McIntyre does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Potoroos digging for ‘truffles’ keep their forests healthy – but for how long? – https://theconversation.com/potoroos-digging-for-truffles-keep-their-forests-healthy-but-for-how-long-271844

Evening Report: https://eveningreport.nz/2026/02/04/potoroos-digging-for-truffles-keep-their-forests-healthy-but-for-how-long-271844/

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Susan Luckman, Professor of Culture and Creative Industries, Adelaide University

We have now passed the annual Australia Day peak of calls urging us to “buy Australian” – especially lamb. The iconic green-and-gold “Australian Made, Australian Grown” logo, launched by then-Prime Minister Bob Hawke in 1986, turns 40 this year.

We are also often encouraged to support local businesses in tough times. The recent devastating impacts of bushfires in Victoria highlights the importance of supporting local businesses in need.

But is buying local feasible or desirable for most Australians? Who buys Australian made – and why? These questions were at the heart of our latest research, which drew on a nationally representative survey of 924 Australian consumers.

We found a majority of Australians support buying local. But their motivations for doing so vary significantly – and not all are willing to pay more.

Looking beyond the farmers’ market

Most previous research has focused on local food. Much less is known about motivations for buying other kinds of local goods.

We asked people whether they sought to buy locally produced goods across a wide range of categories, including fruit and vegetables, meat, alcoholic drinks, clothing, furniture, decorative items, personal accessories and other household goods.

If the answer was yes, we asked why – and whether they were willing to pay more to do so.

Who buys Australian made and why?

We found the desire to “buy local” cannot be neatly categorised as progressive or conservative, nor is the desire to support local confined to any one demographic group.

We found most Australians had a strong desire to buy local. Overall, the top three reasons were:

1. “to support the local economy and jobs”
2. “better quality”
3. “I prefer to support small business”.

This was consistent across all product categories, with supporting the local economy and jobs by far the strongest motivation.

What matters to men and women

But there were some notable variations. For example, while responses by gender were fairly similar, men were far more likely than women to seek out Australian-made alcoholic beverages, which they saw as “better quality” and “safer and more trustworthy”.

In the same product category, women were far more interested in the “story” of such products, choosing the response “I like to know where and how it is produced” more frequently than men.

When it came to clothing and personal accessories, concern for labour conditions and environmental impacts emerged as stronger drivers for women.

Who’s willing to pay more?

Perhaps surprisingly, we found income level has little to do with whether people are willing to pay more for locally produced goods. This is where other values come into play.

We found those aged over 45 had the strongest preference for buying local, and this was primarily motivated by a desire to support the local economy and jobs. However, they were also the least willing to pay more. Notably, ethical or values-based considerations were less of a driver for this group.

In contrast, younger people were more likely to buy local for environmental reasons or for reasons related to labour conditions and workplace ethics. Despite being on lower incomes, younger people were generally willing to pay more for these considerations.

Additional differences became clear when we considered respondents’ political views – particularly their views on immigration.

Those aged over 45, who held the strongest desire to support local economy and jobs, also held the most negative views about immigration – saying they felt that immigration numbers were too high and should be tightened.

This was in contrast to the younger respondents who also sought to buy local for reasons extending beyond supporting the local economy. More motivated to buy local for environmental or ethical reasons, this cohort tended to have more positive views about immigration, feeling that immigration numbers were “about right” or could be higher.

Why this matters

The disruption of COVID made local production and buying more urgent and more common. This sped up a shift towards small-scale and local production that began before the pandemic.

Since the pandemic, Australian businesses have experienced further economic and environmental disruptions: natural disasters, the United States’ reintroduction of tariffs, and the ongoing cost of living crisis, to name a few.

However, our research suggests the same act of buying local holds different meanings across demographics and the political spectrum.

These findings are important to consider at the present moment, as anti-immigration sentiment becomes more visible.

Susan Luckman receives funding from the Australian Research Council.

Michelle Phillipov receives funding from the Australian Research Council.

– ref. New research shows Australians support buying local for different reasons – and not all will pay more – https://theconversation.com/new-research-shows-australians-support-buying-local-for-different-reasons-and-not-all-will-pay-more-274731

Evening Report: https://eveningreport.nz/2026/02/04/new-research-shows-australians-support-buying-local-for-different-reasons-and-not-all-will-pay-more-274731/

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Emlyn Dodd, Senior Lecturer in Classical Studies, Institute of Classical Studies, School of Advanced Study, University of London; Macquarie University

How far back does the rich history of Italian olives and oil stretch? My new research, synthesising and reevaluating existing archaeological evidence, suggests olive trees have been exploited for more than 6,000 years. The first Italian olive oil was produced perhaps 4,000 years ago.

The olive was central to ancient life in Italy. Wild and domesticated olives provided edible fruit. By the mid-first millennium BCE into the Roman period, olive oil was used in cooking, medicine, ritual and hygiene.

Table olives are rich in calories, lipids, vitamins and minerals, and high in calcium. Olive wood is dense, and was used in crafting, construction and for fuel. The waste from pressing olives (pomace) was also a remarkably popular domestic and industrial fuel source in antiquity, burning at a higher temperature for longer and with less smoke than charcoal.

Uses of the olive tree and its fruit were diverse.

During the early Roman Empire (around the first century CE) it is possible Rome’s immediate hinterland produced 9.7 million litres of olive oil per year.

Today, Italy remains among the top olive producing regions in the Mediterranean.

A deep history of olive exploitation

Evidence from ancient pollen shows that olive trees were present in Italy during the Pleistocene, more than 11,000 years ago. These were likely wild olives.

In order to think about exploitation and cultivation, it is important to discern human interaction with the plant and its fruit.

Olive tree charcoal, suggestive of human exploitation, has been found in Mesolithic layers from the seventh and sixth millennia BCE (8,000 years ago) in Sicily and Apulia in the south of Italy.

In northern Italy, the Arene Candide cave in Liguria revealed olive charcoal along with quern stones and sickle blades, possibly used for rudimentary olive harvesting and processing. People at this time began to shape the landscape of wild olive trees by using wood for fuel, collecting wild fruit or pruning off branches for fodder.

An exponential increase in evidence occurs in the Neolithic (6000–3500 BCE), hinting at more intensive use of the olive tree.

But our earliest olive stones, which provide more convincing evidence of olive fruit consumption, are not found in an occupation context until the Middle Neolithic (around 5000–4000 BCE). Much of this early material comes from Calabria, Apulia and Sardinia, with only limited glimpses in central Italy and the Veneto.

Despite accumulating evidence, no conclusive signs yet exist for the Neolithic production of olive oil in Italy.

The earliest olive oil in Italy?

Organic residue analysis has detected plant oils, perhaps from olives, in an Early Bronze Age (2000 BCE) large clay storage jar (pithos) from Castelluccio, Sicily. But there remain challenges in our ability to discern between different types of oils using this technique, and preservation in the Mediterranean is rarely ideal.

More potential indicators for olive oil have been found in ceramic storage jars from Broglio di Trebisacce, Calabria, and Roca Vecchia, Apulia, in the mid-second millennium BCE.

The Bronze Age also saw olive cultivation expand into marginal lands where the wild olive did not grow, for example at Tufariello, Campania, around 1700 BCE. There was clearly significant interest in the exploitation of olives in Bronze Age Italy, which likely included the production of oil at least on a small scale.

Iron Age developments

Italian regions experienced different trajectories around 1000 BCE. Parts of southern Italy show declines in olive cultivation, perhaps linked to changing economic and cultural events. Sites on the Ionian and Adriatic coast maintain olive charcoal, stones, oil residues and even imprints of olive leaves on ceramics.

Read more:
Remaking history: using Ancient Egyptian techniques, I made delicious olive oil at home – and you can too

Possibly the earliest stone rotary olive millstone in the Mediterranean was discovered at Incoronata, Basilicata, dating to the seventh century BCE.

The invention of rotary mills signalled an important change in processing power and efficiency. Mills crushed olives, separating skin from flesh before they were pressed for oil. Although they are generally thought to originate in the Aegean, where examples from the sixth and fifth centuries BCE exist, the find from Incoronata might instead suggest a central Mediterranean origin.

Recent research demonstrates external cultures, like Phoenicians or Greeks, were not solely responsible for the introduction of olive cultivation or oil production. This follows similar conclusions reached for viticulture and winemaking in Italy.

Cultural exchange through trade and colonisation brought different knowledge, technology and ideas of production around oleiculture and oil production, creating forums for local innovation.

These forces energised already-intensifying cultivation. By around 600–500 BCE, Etruscan communities began to play a key role in the systematic establishment of groves and the use of olives in central Italy.

Roman consolidation and scaling up

The Roman period saw olive cultivation pushed well past its natural bioclimatic limits. Olive trees were grown at higher altitudes, latitudes and in more arid regions.

Production occurred across much of the Italian peninsula, even in subalpine regions and marginal lands.

Archaeological and ancient environmental material illustrate a substantial oil-producing habit and emerging market in Roman Republican and Imperial Italy – perhaps on a larger scale than previously thought.

Some oil production facilities may have had four or more presses. This illustrates exceptional processing scale, such as the elite villa of Vacone in central Italy.

A facility in Apulia, used from the first century BCE onwards, had an oil cellar with perhaps 47 enormous clay jars (dolia), potentially storing 25,000–35,000 litres.

Oil production also occurred at a smaller-scale in urban centres and isolated rural locations. The discovery of a production site at Case Nuove, Tuscany, provides a rare glimpse into modest scale olive processing using rudimentary technologies.

As analytical and scientific techniques improve, the ancient history of olive oil in Italy will continue to evolve, pushing our knowledge further back in time and adding new detail and nuance.

Emlyn Dodd does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Olives have been essential to life in Italy for at least 6,000 years – far longer than we thought – https://theconversation.com/olives-have-been-essential-to-life-in-italy-for-at-least-6-000-years-far-longer-than-we-thought-273461

Evening Report: https://eveningreport.nz/2026/02/04/olives-have-been-essential-to-life-in-italy-for-at-least-6-000-years-far-longer-than-we-thought-273461/

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Lynne Chepulis, Associate Professor, Health Sciences, University of Waikato

For the tens of thousands of New Zealanders who live with type 2 diabetes, managing the chronic condition can start to feel like keeping score.

A patient is given a list of numbers by their doctor. Blood sugar, blood pressure and cholesterol levels are tracked closely, with targets designed to reduce the risk of complications such as heart attacks, kidney failure, blindness and early death.

In theory, those targets apply equally to everyone. In practice, they are far harder to reach for some New Zealanders than others.

Using health records from more than 57,000 adults with type 2 diabetes, our newly published study found Māori and Pacific people are much less likely than New Zealand Europeans to meet key clinical targets, even when they are seeing a doctor regularly.

The same pattern holds for people living in more deprived neighbourhoods and for many rural patients.

Consider HbA1c (glycated haemoglobin) tests. These measure average blood sugar levels over the past three months. A lower result is better. But fewer than half of all people in the study hit the recommended targets for HbA1c.

Among Māori, just 43% met the targets. Among Pacific people, the rate was lower still, at 36%. By contrast, around one in two Asian and New Zealand European patients were at target. We also found the proportion of people not meeting targets also rises dramatically relative to social deprivation.

These disparities can come with dire consequences. Over time, high blood sugar damages blood vessels and nerves, driving up the risk of amputations.

Māori and Pacific people face these complications earlier and more often than other New Zealanders, often due to being diagnosed much earlier in life. The same pattern shows up for blood pressure and cholesterol, key predictors of strokes and heart attacks.

Clear targets, unequal outcomes

At first glance, they can look like the result of individual choices. A common refrain is that people are simply not trying hard enough. But that explanation doesn’t hold up. It assumes a level playing field, which does not exist.

Most health targets are set as if everyone has easy access to care: a regular doctor, reliable transport and enough income to support healthier choices. But managing diabetes demands more than willpower. It involves regular appointments, blood tests, adjusting medications and building long-term relationships with clinicians.

That may be easy to write into a guideline, but it is much harder if a patient lives far away, can’t get time off work or is juggling transport, childcare and tight budgets.

For patients in rural areas, a routine appointment can mean taking half a day off work and spending hours on the road, along with the cost of fuel. Specialist services are often even further away. With ongoing workforce shortages, continuity of care can be difficult to maintain.

Many patients end up seeing a different doctor or nurse each visit, which makes it hard to build any kind of relationship with the person managing their care. For Māori and Pacific patients, this lack of continuity can compound care that already feels rushed or culturally unsafe.

When people do not feel heard, it becomes harder to stay engaged. Missed appointments are often labelled as “disengagement”, when they are more accurately a reasonable response to a system that does not fit people’s lives.

Newer diabetes medicines that protect the heart and kidneys are now available, but access is not always straightforward. Although these drugs are funded in New Zealand, tight eligibility rules and follow-up requirements mean many people who qualify never receive them.

Others stop taking them because of side effects, cost, or uncertainty about how the medicines are meant to help.

Cost matters, too. Even in a publicly funded system, people still face co-payments for GP visits, prescriptions and transport. For families already stretched by housing and food costs, diabetes care must compete with everything else.

Accordingly, people living in more deprived areas face greater challenges keeping glucose at optimal levels, regardless of motivation.

What the targets are really telling us

Over time, these small frictions accumulate. Blood sugar creeps up, blood pressure stays high, and targets are missed. The system records a “failure”, but that failure is not evenly distributed.

Clinical targets developed under ideal conditions are not neutral when applied universally. They remain useful, but only if there is honesty about what they capture. In practice, they often reflect how well the health system is working.

More equitable diabetes care would look different: seeing patients closer to home, longer appointments and support that includes whānau as well as individuals. It would mean removing cost barriers, ensuring continuity and investing in rural and kaupapa Māori services alongside urban hospitals.

Read this way, diabetes targets become indicators of system performance. Right now, they show where care is accessible and effective – and where inequity persists. Ignoring these signals risks embedding inequity for another generation.

Lynne Chepulis receives funding from the Health Research Council of New Zealand

Sara Mustafa does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Diabetes care in NZ: thousands of patient records reveal who’s being left behind – https://theconversation.com/diabetes-care-in-nz-thousands-of-patient-records-reveal-whos-being-left-behind-274421

Evening Report: https://eveningreport.nz/2026/02/04/diabetes-care-in-nz-thousands-of-patient-records-reveal-whos-being-left-behind-274421/