Author: MIL-OSI Publisher

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Justin Bergman, International Affairs Editor, The Conversation

Since the United States and Israel launched their war against Iran in late February, Iran has retaliated by targeting commercial ships in the Strait of Hormuz, effectively shutting down the narrow channel of water.

It’s caused a global fuel crisis, even though some ships are managing to get through the strait. US President Donald Trump has given Iran an ultimatum to fully reopen the waterway to oil and gas shipments, and called on NATO allies to help in the effort.

We asked naval expert Jennifer Parker, who served for 20 years with the Royal Australian Navy, to explain what kind of military force would be required to reopen the strait to commercial shipping and why the US hasn’t yet taken this step.

Why is it so hard to prevent attacks on ships?

The geography of the region has a lot to do with this.

Iran clearly dominates the northern part of the Persian Gulf, the Strait of Hormuz and the Gulf of Oman. That proximity allows it to use its cheaper weapons such as drones to target ships.

Creating the conditions to make merchant shipping safe – or at least reduce the risk – requires a two-phase campaign.

The first phase is taking out Iran’s ability to target ships. There are two ways to do this:

• persuade or force Iran to stop attacking ships
• destroy Iran’s ability to attack ships by taking out its radar facilities, command and control structure and weapons bunkers along the coast.

The US has air power, intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance capabilities to identify and destroy most of these targets. Locating and destroying Iran’s masses of drones will be harder, as they can be stored almost anywhere, so intelligence will be crucial here.

Once you reduce the risk through a bombing campaign, the second element of getting ships back through the strait is a reassurance campaign.

This requires airborne early warning aircraft and maritime patrol aircraft to monitor not only the strait, but also the Gulf of Oman, the Persian Gulf and along Iran’s coastline.

Fighter aircraft would need to be stationed above the strait and gulf, as combat air patrol and helicopters would need to be ready to deploy against attacks, if necessary. And in the water, the US would need to station warships to provide the occasional escort.

If mines are confirmed or even suspected of being in the strait, this complicates things. The US would require an extensive and time-consuming mine clearance operation.

So, why won’t the US try to militarily secure the strait?

There are four key reasons the US won’t attempt to militarily secure the strait without first achieving phase one (taking out Iran’s ability to target ships) — and why it hasn’t been a focus of the campaign thus far.

First, it would divert military assets, such as aircraft, that are needed elsewhere to carry out Trump’s war objectives.

Second, to make the strait safe for shipping, you actually need to secure not just the water, but the land on either side of it. And this would likely require ground forces – or perhaps raiding parties on Iran’s coastline – which would be complicated and risky for the US military.

Third, securing shipping would require a significant number of naval ships. Realistically, you’d need one or two naval ships per escort operation. A convoy any larger than that would be at increased risk of attack, unless the US and Israel have dramatically reduced Iran’s ability to target the ships.

And fourth, the military needs to think about the risk to its assets versus the benefits of opening the strait. A US warship has a crew of more than 200 personnel. Given Iran’s ability to hit ships with uncrewed surface vessels, drones and cruise missiles, is it worth putting those personnel at risk before you’ve reduced the threats from Iran’s coastline?

What about mines in the strait?

This would be a significant challenge. But one thing first: Iran doesn’t actually need to physically lay the mines, it just needs to convince the US and others that it has. This is enough to prevent civilian ships from wanting to transit through the strait.

Sometimes mines can be floating on the surface of the water, so they’re visible. Often, though, mines are submerged or moored. The US would need to send in divers or remote-controlled vehicles launched from ships to remove them. This would take weeks or perhaps even months.

Although it’s not been confirmed publicly, I think it’s unlikely Iran would extensivley lay mines. There are two reasons for this.

First, Iran’s economy relies on its ability to ship its own oil from Kharg Island in the Persian Gulf through the strait. Iran does have other ports outside the strait, but they can’t accommodate bigger ships, so mining would interfere with their trade.

Second, some reports have suggested Iran has used acoustic mines, a type of influence mine that detonates based on an acoustic “signature”, essentially what a ship sounds like as it moves through the water. While this technology certainly exists, it is unlikely such mines would be designed to reliably differentiate between Iranian-flagged merchant vessels and those flagged to other countries.

Maintaining accurate and comprehensive signature data for large numbers of commercial vessels — particularly in a dense and dynamic shipping environment such as the strait — would be extremely challenging. In practice, these mines would pose risks to a wide range of shipping.

The US also has significant intelligence assets and surveillance and reconnaissance systems along the Iranian coast, so it would likely detect mine-laying operations, although this can also occur from any vessel, including fishing boats.

And what about Iran’s ability to target ships with drones?

Iran has used different types of drones so far in the war. The uncrewed aerial craft or uncrewed surface vessels are remotely controlled and have been used to hit merchant tankers.

Compared with other weapons, such as missiles, it’s much harder for the US and Israel to target Iran’s drones on the ground because they can be launched from almost anywhere. And while they can’t be built anywhere, drones don’t require the same advanced manufacturing facilities as missiles. In short, they are harder to detect and wipe out.

But the US can bomb some of Iran’s launching points and drone stockpiles along the coast to prevent some attacks on ships.

What is the main priority for the US in Iran right now?

Although there has been much debate about regime change, the Trump administration has been clear about its four key military objectives, which are to destroy:

• Iran’s ballistic missile capability
• its nuclear capability
• its navy (which has largely been achieved)
• and its proxy networks, including Hezbollah in Lebanon, which has been under attack by Israel for the past several weeks.

The destruction of Iran’s nuclear and ballistic missile capabilities requires significant aircraft and weaponry – as the US and Israeli bombing campaigns have already made clear. Diverting these assets to secure the Strait of Hormuz could undermine the achievement of these military objectives.

– ref. Why hasn’t the US military used force to secure the Strait of Hormuz? – https://theconversation.com/why-hasnt-the-us-military-used-force-to-secure-the-strait-of-hormuz-279224

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Elena Urrestarazu Bolumburu, Consultor Clínico. Servicio de Neurofisiología Clínica. Unidad de Sueño., Universidad de Navarra

As you get older, it’s normal to notice changes in your sleep. These can include fewer hours of shuteye, waking up more during the night, and finding it harder to drop off. However, despite the general view that older people tend to need less sleep, scientific evidence suggests that this change isn’t actually a question of needing less rest, but of a reduced ability to fall into a deep, continuous sleep.

Older brains still need to rest, but they find it harder and do it more superficially. It’s as if the “off switch” that keeps us asleep works less effectively as time goes on.

Lighter sleep and ageing

One of the main reasons we get worse sleep as we age is the loss of stability in the system that regulates sleep and wakefulness.

In the young brain, this system functions like a firm switch: it is either awake or asleep. But as we get older, some neurons that promote and maintain sleep are lost, while others that sustain wakefulness also get weaker. As a result, the brain shifts states more easily, leading to lighter and more fragmented sleep.

Our biological clocks also change with age. The group of neurons that coordinates the entire body’s circadian rhythms (known as the suprachiasmatic nucleus) continues to function, but its “day” becomes shorter and starts earlier, and its signal becomes less intense.

This partly explains why older people tend to fall asleep and wake up earlier. It also explains why their night-time sleep is more sensitive to external stimuli, and why they can experience more drowsiness during the day. Put simply, the brain receives a less clear signal about when to sleep and when to stay awake.

Another significant change is in our “sleep pressure”. This urge builds up throughout the day and causes us to sleep at night, and depends on a substance known as adenosine. As we age, the brain continues to accumulate fatigue but responds less effectively to this signal. Although the need for sleep remains, it becomes more difficult to translate the signal into deep, uninterrupted sleep.

Deep sleep, which is essential for brain recovery, is also directly affected by structural changes in the brain. This phase of sleep occurs primarily in the frontal regions, which lose thickness and connections as we age. As a result, the slow brainwaves that characterise deep sleep become weaker and less frequent – especially at the start of the night.

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During sleep, the brain also sends out brief signals that help consolidate memories from the day. As we age, these signals diminish and become less synchronised with deep sleep. This contributes to a decline in learning and memory efficiency, even in healthy older people.

Finally, ageing affects the connections that enable different regions of the brain to work in sync during the night. Although the neurons that generate sleep are still present, their signals are transmitted less effectively. The result is less deep, more fragmented, and less restorative sleep.

It is important to note that lighter sleep is considered part of the brain’s natural ageing process in healthy older adults. These changes do not necessarily lead to cognitive problems.

Lifestyle factors

In addition to these biological changes, other factors can have a decisive influence on sleep in older people, and often interact with neurobiological mechanisms. For instance, the loss of daily routine – such as regular working hours, structured physical activity and consistent exposure to natural light – weakens the external cues that help synchronise the biological clock, exacerbating sleep fragmentation.

At this stage of life, sleep disorders such as insomnia and obstructive sleep apnoea are more common. At the same time, a greater burden of chronic conditions – persistent pain, cardiovascular or respiratory diseases – and mood disorders leads to additional night-time awakenings and breaks up sleep.

While essential, frequent use of medicines can also disrupt sleep patterns. These range from sleep aids and anxiolytics that affect deep sleep, to antidepressants, beta-blockers and diuretics that interfere with the onset, stability or continuity of sleep.

Taken together, these factors act as modulators. While they do not in themselves cause sleep ageing, they can exacerbate it, and make it clinically significant when they occur in a brain that is already more vulnerable.

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What is “normal” sleep ageing?

In recent years, there has been a growing body of evidence regarding the harmful effects of sleep deprivation and sleep disorders on brain health. Poor sleep is not only associated with poorer cognitive performance in the short term, but also with a higher risk of cognitive decline and dementia in the long term.

This growing interest has placed a spotlight on sleep in old age, a stage of life where sleep patterns almost universally change. However, one of the greatest challenges is to draw a clear line between changes in sleep that are part of normal ageing – meaning they don’t entail any negative physical or mental consequences – and those that may constitute an early, subclinical symptom of neurodegenerative processes.

As they age, a person might begin to notice a deterioration in their sleep patterns (waking up during the night, more superficial sleep, and so on). But there are no biomarkers that can determine whether these are normal changes to be expected with age, or whether they are in fact a manifestation of neurodegenerative disease.

Although it’s normal for sleep to become lighter with age, some changes go beyond what is to be expected and may indicate unhealthy brain ageing. One of the main warning signs is marked and progressive sleep fragmentation, with multiple prolonged night-time awakenings and a persistent feeling of non-restorative sleep, even when the total time spent in bed is enough. Unlike normal ageing, in these cases sleep loses its stability and continuity.

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Another key sign is the rapid onset or worsening of excessive daytime sleepiness, particularly when it interferes with daily activities or is disproportionate to the amount of sleep obtained. This would suggest that a person’s sleep has lost its restorative function.

When should you worry?

From a neurocognitive perspective, the coexistence of sleep disturbances with subtle cognitive changes – such as recent difficulties with memory, attention or learning, even if these do not yet meet the criteria for cognitive impairment – is particularly concerning. Recent research suggests that this combination may reflect early-stage neurodegenerative processes.

Changes in quality of sleep, rather than simply a reduction in sleep duration, are also considered warning signs. This can mean the almost complete disappearance of deep sleep, a marked reduction in REM sleep, or a progressive reversal of the sleep-wake cycle, with increased night-time activity and daytime sleepiness. These patterns are not typical of healthy ageing.

Other warning signs are a growing dependence on medical sleeping aids or sedatives to sleep, as well as treatments that previously worked becoming suddenly ineffective. In these cases, the problem is usually not just insomnia, but an underlying disturbance of the brain’s sleep mechanisms.

These signs alone are not sufficient to diagnose a neurodegenerative disease, but they do show why we need to assess sleep as a potential early risk marker, especially when the changes are recent, progressive and associated with cognitive impairments.

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Elena Urrestarazu Bolumburu no recibe salario, ni ejerce labores de consultoría, ni posee acciones, ni recibe financiación de ninguna compañía u organización que pueda obtener beneficio de este artículo, y ha declarado carecer de vínculos relevantes más allá del cargo académico citado.

– ref. Is lighter sleep a normal part of ageing – or a sign of something more serious? – https://theconversation.com/is-lighter-sleep-a-normal-part-of-ageing-or-a-sign-of-something-more-serious-278836

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Olga Oleinikova, Associate Professor and Director of the SITADHub (Social Impact Technologies and Democracy Research Hub) in the School of Communication, University of Technology Sydney

“I didn’t come here to get rich. I came because I had no other way to keep my son safe and care for my displaced family”.

Anna is a 28-year-old woman from eastern Ukraine. She fled the country in 2023 after Russian troops invaded. Two years later, she agreed to become a surrogate in Georgia for wealthy foreign couples.

We met Anna, who was already pregnant, in a quiet apartment that had been rented for her by a surrogacy agency on the outskirts of the capital, Tbilisi.

Our multidisciplinary team was in Georgia to conduct a pilot research project examining the small country’s rapidly expanding surrogacy industry.

We conducted in-depth interviews with Ukrainian women to better understand their motivations for entering surrogacy arrangements, their experiences within the system, and the social, economic, and legal factors shaping their decision-making and wellbeing.

We also analysed publicly available policy and regulatory documents from the government to examine how the sector operates. We paid particular attention to emerging regulatory challenges, gaps in oversight and the state’s efforts to balance economic opportunity with ethical and human rights considerations.

The shifting geography of surrogacy

Surrogacy laws vary widely around the world. Some countries, including Australia, prohibit commercial surrogacy. Others allow it under specific conditions. These differences create cross-border markets, where intended parents travel abroad to access services that are restricted, expensive or unavailable at home.

Before Russia’s full-scale invasion in 2022, Ukraine was one of the world’s largest commercial surrogacy hubs. Estimates suggest between 2,000 and 2,500 babies were born each year through surrogacy arrangements.

War disrupted the industry. Clinics closed or relocated. Travel became dangerous. Media outlets reported on intended parents struggling to reach newborns and surrogates displaced by fighting. Georgia became a safe alternative.

International surrogacy has been legal in Georgia since 1997. That’s when the country adopted legislation allowing both gestational (a woman carrying an embryo not genetically related to her) and traditional surrogacy (a woman carrying an embryo for another couple using her own egg). The first children were born through gestational surrogacy around 2007.

The country’s clear legal framework – recognising intended parents as the child’s legal guardians from birth and granting no parental rights to the surrogate – has been a key factor in its appeal.

Costs are also significantly lower than in the United States. As independent international surrogacy consultant Olga Pysana told us:

In the last year, surrogacy in Georgia cost approximately US$55,000 to $85,000 (A$78,000 to A$120,000), whereas surrogacy in the United States can cost as much as US$250,000 (A$350,000).

With international demand surging in the 2010s, Georgia (a small country of 3.7 million people) quickly became unable to meet the needs of so many parents with local women alone. So clinics began recruiting potential surrogates from abroad, including from Ukraine, Central Asian countries, Russia, Belarus, Thailand and the Philippines.

Mobile surrogates

Several of the women we interviewed had previously worked with Ukrainian agencies. After the invasion, recruiters contacted them again – this time offering placements in Georgia.

Displacement has produced a new and economically vulnerable workforce. We describe these women as “mobile surrogates”: women who move across borders to provide reproductive labour in response to war, economic crises or changing surrogacy laws. “If there was no war, I would never have left,” Anna told us.

Most of the women we interviewed had lost homes, jobs or partners. Many were supporting children and extended family members across borders. Anna had worked in a shop before the war, then cleaned houses in Poland. “Surrogacy in Georgia pays in nine months what I would earn in years,” she said.

Our research found that surrogates are typically paid around US$20,000 (A$35,500) in instalments. For families displaced by war, this amount of money can cover rent, relocation costs and schooling.

But the arrangements come with strict contractual conditions. Women may face limits on travel, their diets and daily routines. Some live in shared apartments organised by agencies.

Independent legal advice is rare. Anna signed a contract in a language she did not fully understand, but felt she had little alternative: “I just needed something stable. I couldn’t keep moving from place to place”.

Georgia’s legal framework says little about labour standards, housing conditions or long-term health support for surrogates after birth. The result is an imbalance: strong protections for intended parents, and weaker safeguards for the women carrying babies.

A draft bill was introduced in 2023 aimed at curbing paid surrogacy for foreigners, due to growing concerns about the commercialisation of the industry and potential exploitation of surrogate mothers. However, it is still pending. As of early 2026, surrogacy remains legal in Georgia for foreign heterosexual couples.

Three trends we are seeing

First, reproductive markets are highly responsive to crises. When Ukraine’s industry became unstable, demand shifted rapidly to Georgia. Global fertility markets operate like other transnational industries: when one site contracts, another expands.

Second, economic inequality shapes who participates. Displacement and financial insecurity increase women’s willingness to enter demanding reproductive arrangements.

Third, the surrogates bear the brunt of regulatory ambiguities and associated risks and challenges. This includes dealing with contracts and medical procedures in languages they don’t understand.

Reform is needed

In Georgia, clearer labour protections are essential: minimum housing standards, transparent payment schedules, and mandatory, independent legal advice in a language surrogates understand. Health coverage for the women should also extend beyond birth.

The major markets for surrogacy services, including China, the US, Australia, Israel, Germany and others, should also review how their citizens engage in overseas surrogacy. This includes stronger regulation of agencies marketing abroad and clearer ethical guidance for intended parents.

Finally, greater international coordination is needed. Shared standards for cross-border surrogacy would improve transparency and accountability in a rapidly expanding and loosely regulated global market.

As demand grows, the central question is not whether cross-border surrogacy will continue, but whether it can be governed in ways that safeguard fairness, transparency and the rights of the women whose bodies sustain it.

Nothing to disclose.

Olga Oleinikova and Polina Vlasenko do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. ‘I didn’t come here to get rich’: new research on the lives of Ukrainian women in Georgia’s surrogacy boom – https://theconversation.com/i-didnt-come-here-to-get-rich-new-research-on-the-lives-of-ukrainian-women-in-georgias-surrogacy-boom-276173

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Brent Keogh, Lecturer in the School of Communications, University of Technology Sydney

The release of the first FIFA World Cup 2026 song Lighter by American country artist Jelly Roll, Mexican singer Carín León and Canadian producer Cirkut, has left an odd taste in the mouth of fans, like waking up in the back of a Chevy truck after accidentally downing a bottle of bargain-bin bourbon.

As the United States, Canada and Mexico prepare to host the World Cup in June, the change in genre from “world-infused” pop to Bible Belt-style country-rock reflects the awkwardness of the tournament being hosted in an increasingly isolationist America.

Themes of unity and diversity

Since the early 1990s, FIFA World Cup songs and anthems have usually reflected something of the local flavour of the host country while simultaneously promoting the ideals of global unity.

For example, the 2022 song Hayya Hayya promotes the ideal that “we are better together”. It vibrates with the rhythmic complexity of North African folk traditions, before moving into a more commercial reggae groove.

Jennifer Lopez and Pitbull’s 2014 song, We are One, incorporates Brazilian inflections in an otherwise characteristically in-your-face Pitbull dance track. Nevertheless, the global sentiment remains: “it’s your world, my world, our world today, and we invite the whole world, whole world to play”.

Similarly, Jason Derulo’s 2018 World Cup track Colors (also a Coca Cola promotional song), celebrates national pride – “I’m going to wave my flag” – while also declaring “there’s beauty in the unity we’ve found”.

Where is the excitement?

Though Lighter is a collaboration between the three host countries, it marks a significant musical shift from the characteristic European, Latino and “World” inflected pop of previous songs.

There have been other stylistic shifts in the past. The 2006 World Cup track was Time of Our Lives, a slow operatic pop ballad by Il Divo and Toni Braxton.

But Lighter isn’t another example of this. It isn’t a ballad – yet it still lacks the high energy buzz of fan favourites such as Shakira’s Waka Waka (2010 South Africa World Cup), Santana’s Dar Um Jeito (We Will Find a Way) (2014 Brazil World Cup) and Ricky Martin’s The Cup of Life (1998 France World Cup).

The usual rhythmic vitality of a World Cup song is stripped back to a country-rock dirge with an odd, almost tokenistic Spanish bridge – an offering that might more appropriately feature in a Trolls World Tour. Fans are not having it.

As one user in the YouTube comments asks: “La emoción, la pasión y el ritmo mundialista, dónde está todo eso?” (“The excitement, the passion and the World Cup rhythm, where is all that?”).

Roll between the Lord and the Devil

Lighter has also been criticised for its religious allusions. One listener bemoans: “It’s a football tournament, but let’s make a song about church choirs, Chevy trucks, chains and muddy boots”.

Although past World Cup songs have contained religious allusions, Lighter’s odd sense of the sacred is more like trying to pass off a Lord Elrond action figure as a statue of Saint Anthony.

The song is replete with the forced language of a sinner’s conversion (“chains don’t rattle no more”, “lay my burdens down”), as analogous to the flow-state of a footballer, free from whatever personal or collective trials that might have been holding them back.

As in many a good country song, the protagonist is involved in a cosmic battle for his soul.

Jelly Roll is “praying [his] way out of […] hell”. He even has a run in with the Devil, although he doesn’t trade his soul for musical talent. Rather, he escapes the Devil’s attempts to “catch” him as his boots have left the ground.

You could be forgiven for questioning whether this song was about football at all, or whether it is more reflective of Jelly Roll’s own personal conversion story (he has recently been open in proclaiming his faith in Jesus).

In Lighter, the collective “we” of previous World Cup songs has been replaced with the individualistic “I” – the local taking precedence over the global.

The elephant in the room

Now, to be fair, there are some aspects of Lighter that align with the values of its predecessors. One key theme of the song is the sense of the fight, of overcoming obstacles, and gaining individual freedom. This aligns with FIFA’s stated purpose of the song, which it says was “created for the most inclusive FIFA World Cup in history”.

However, with ICE agents likely to be haunting football stadiums like dementors – and strained relationships between the US and neighbours such as Venezuela, Mexico, Canada and Cuba (not to mention Iran) – it is questionable whether FIFA’s goals of inclusivity will be felt and realised.

Instead, Jelly Roll and Carín León’s country-rock tune seems to more accurately reflect the current US administration’s isolationist approach to global foreign policy: we know we’re in the world, but we’d rather not be.

Perhaps the next World Cup song in 2030 will bring back the excitement, passion and rhythm that fans love, and reiterate the globalist ideals of the game. For now, Lighter remains a missed penalty shot.

Brent Keogh 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. A Bible Belt track without a pulse – it’s no surprise fans hate the 2026 FIFA World Cup song Lighter – https://theconversation.com/a-bible-belt-track-without-a-pulse-its-no-surprise-fans-hate-the-2026-fifa-world-cup-song-lighter-279111