Category: Analysis

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By George Buchanan, Deputy Dean, School of Computing Technologies, RMIT University

The hope of the world wide web, according to its creator Tim Berners-Lee, was that it would make communication easier, bring knowledge to all, and strengthen democracy and connection. Instead, it seems to be driving us apart into increasingly small and angry splinter groups. Why?

We have commonly blamed online echo chambers, digital spaces filled with people who largely share the same beliefs – or filter bubbles, the idea that algorithms tend to show us content we are likely to agree with.

However, these concepts have both been challenged by a number of studies. A 2022 study led by one of us (Dana), which tracked the social media behaviours of ten respondents, found people often engage with content they disagree with – even going so far as to seek it out.

When an individual engages with a disagreeable post on social media – whether it’s “rage bait” or something else that offends you – it drives income for the platform. But on a societal scale, it drives antisocial outcomes.

One of the worst of these outcomes is “affective polarisation”, where we like people who think similarly to us, and dislike or resent people who hold different views. Research and global surveys both show this form of polarisation is growing across the world.

Changing the economics of social media platforms would likely reduce online polarisation. But this won’t be possible without intervention from governments, and each of us.

How our views get reinforced online

Social media use has been associated with growing affective polarisation.

Online, we can be influenced by the opinions of people we agree or disagree with – even on topics we had previously been neutral towards. For instance, if there’s an influencer you admire, and they express a view on a new law you hadn’t thought much about, you’re more likely to adopt their viewpoint on it.

When this happens on a large scale, it gradually separates us into ideological tribes that disagree on multiple issues: a phenomenon known as “partisan sorting”.

Research shows our encounters on social media can lead to us developing new views on a topic. It also shows how any searches we do to get more insight can solidify these emerging views, as the results are likely to contain the same language as the original post that gave us the view in the first place.

For example, if you see a post that inaccurately claims taking paracetamol during pregnancy will give your baby autism, and you search for other posts using the key words “paracetamol pregnancy autism”, you will probably get more of the same.

Being in a heightened emotional state has been linked to higher susceptibility to believing false or “fake” content.

Why are we fed polarising content?

This is where the economics of the internet come in. Divisive and emotionally laden posts are more likely to get engagement (such as likes, shares and comments), especially from people who strongly agree or disagree, and from provocateurs. Platforms will then show these posts to more people, and the cycle of engagement continues.

Social media companies leverage our tendency towards divisive content to drive engagement, as this leads to more advertising money for them. According to a 2021 report from the Washington Post, Facebook’s ranking algorithm once treated emoji reactions (including anger) as five times more valuable than “likes”.

Simulation-based studies have also revealed how anger and division drive online engagement. One simulation (in a yet to be peer-reviewed paper) used bots to show that any platform measuring its success and income by engagement (currently all of them) would be most successful if it boosted divisive posts.

Where are we headed?

That said, the current state of social media need not also be its future.

People are now spending less time on social media than they used to. According to a recent report from the Financial Times, time spent on social media peaked in 2022 and has since been declining. By the end of 2024, users aged 16 and older spent 10% less time on social platforms than they did in 2022.

Droves of users are also leaving bigger “mainstream” platforms for ones that reflect their own political leanings, such as the left-wing BlueSky, or the right-wing Truth Social. While this may not help with polarisation, it signals many people are no longer satisfied with the social media status quo.

Internet-fuelled polarisation has also resulted in real costs to government, both in mental health and police spending. Consider recent events in Australia, where online hate and misinformation have played a role in neo-Nazi marches, and the cancellation of events run by the LGBTQIA+ community, due to threats.

For those of us who remain on social media platforms, we can individually work to change the status quo. Research shows greater tolerance for different views among online users can slow down polarisation. We can also give social media companies less signals to work from, by not re-sharing or promoting content that’s likely to make others irate.

Fundamentally, though, this is a structural problem. Fixing it will mean reframing the economics of online activity to increase the potential for balanced and respectful conversations, and decrease the reward for producing and/or engaging with rage bait. And this will almost certainly require government intervention.

When other products have caused harm, governments have regulated them and taxed the companies responsible. Social media platforms can also be regulated and taxed. It may be hard, but not impossible. And it’s worth doing if we want a world where we’re not all one opinion away from becoming an outcast.

Dana McKay has received funding from the Australian Research Council, the Australian Digital Health Agency, and Google (this last ruing her PhD).

George Buchanan 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. The world wide web was meant to unite us, but is tearing us apart instead. Is there another way? – https://theconversation.com/the-world-wide-web-was-meant-to-unite-us-but-is-tearing-us-apart-instead-is-there-another-way-266253

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Philip C. Almond, Emeritus Professor in the History of Religious Thought, The University of Queensland

In a series of four lectures, Silicon Valley tech billionaire Peter Thiel has been opining on the Antichrist.

Thiel’s amateur riffing identifies the Antichrist with anyone or any institution that he dislikes – from environmental activist Greta Thunberg to governmental attempts to regulate artificial intelligence.

Thiel’s overall definition of the Antichrist “is that of an evil king or tyrant or anti-messiah who appears in the end times”.

Thiel is aligning himself with a long tradition of identifying the Antichrist as a despotic world emperor who would arise at the end of the world.

By the ninth century, influenced by the Christian idea of the Antichrist, Islam and Judaism each had their own Antichrist figures who would come at the end of history – in Islam, al-Dajjal (the Deceiver), in Judaism, Armilus.

The Christian Antichrist

Drawing together 800 years of earlier Antichrist speculations, the Benedictine monk Adso of Montier-en-der wrote the first life of the Antichrist 1,100 years ago. According to Adso, the Antichrist would be a tyrannical evil king who would corrupt all those around him.

The Antichrist was the opposite of everything Christ-like. According to Christianity, Christ was fully human yet absolutely “sin free”. The Antichrist, too, was fully human, but completely “sin full” – not so much a supernatural being who became flesh as a human being who became completely demonised.

Born in Babylon (present day Iraq), the Antichrist was destined to come at the end of the world and rule over the earth from Jerusalem until he and his supporters were defeated by the forces of Christ at the battle of Armageddon.

Al-Dajjal, the Muslim Antichrist

Although the Dajjal does not appear in the Qur’an, he plays an important role in later Muslim understanding of the end of the world in the Hadith literature – the later collections of the sayings and deeds of Muhammad.

Dajjal was large and stout, of a red complexion, blind in one eye that appeared like a swollen grape, and had big curly hair. His most distinctive feature was the word Kafir (disbeliever) written on his forehead.

There is no declaration in the Hadith literature that the Dajjal would be Jewish, but it was said he would be followed by 70,000 Jews of Isfahan in Iran wearing Persian shawls.

According to the longest of the accounts of the Dajjal in the Hadith, called Sahih Muslim (c.850), he would appear somewhere between Syria and Iraq and spread trouble in all directions. He would stay on the earth for one year and ten weeks.

For those who accepted him, there would be bountiful food. For those who rejected him, there would be drought and poverty. He would walk through the wasteland and say “bring forth your treasures” and they would appear before him like a swarm of bees. He would then call a young man, strike him with a sword and cut him in pieces.

Then, God would send Jesus Christ. He would descend with his hands resting on the shoulders of two angels at the white minaret on the Eastern side of Damascus. Every non-believer would perish at his breath. He would search for the Dajjal, capture him at the gate of the city of Ludd (Lydda) in Israel and kill him.

Armilus, the Jewish Antichrist

Like al-Dajjal, you would recognise Armilus instantly. According to the medieval Prayer of Rabbi Shimon ben Yohai, he was born in Rome, the child of Satan and a stone in the shape of a beautiful girl.

He was more monstrous in appearance than either the Muslim or the Christian Antichrists. He was a giant, 5.5 metres tall. In several sources, he was reported as having two skulls.

One mid-eighth century tradition reported his hair was dyed, another that it was red, and another that his face was hairy and his forehead leprous. Several reports had him as bald. His eyes were variously malformed – small, deep, red and crooked, one eye small and the other big.

According to the earliest Jewish account of Armilus in Sefer Zerubbabel (or the Apocalypse of Zerubbabel), from between the seventh and ninth centuries, his hands hung down to his green feet. Another text had his right arm only as long as a hand and his left one metre long.

Like the Christian and Muslim Antichrists, he too would come in the end times. Sefer Zerubbabel tells us all those who see him will be terrified. But the Messiah will come “and will blow into his face and kill him”. The Messiah will then gather the Jews in Israel and usher in the Messianic age.

The Antichrist now?

The idea of the Antichrist in Judaism, Christianity and Islam has played a significant role in the histories of these three religions, each asserting its belief in the final victory of good over evil.

The image of the Antichrist remains a powerful one. It speaks to the continuing belief among both believers and non-believers that the course of human history is still to be understood in terms of a world-wide struggle between those on the side of God and the rest on the side of evil.

This division of the world into the good and the evil, patriots and terrorists, angels and demons, whether within or between countries, is one that can never bring any peace to the earth. Best if Thiel – and the rest of us – consign it to history.

Philip C. Almond 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. Peter Thiel thinks Greta Thunberg could be the Antichrist. Here’s how three religions actually describe him – https://theconversation.com/peter-thiel-thinks-greta-thunberg-could-be-the-antichrist-heres-how-three-religions-actually-describe-him-267439

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Gwyn McClelland, Senior Lecturer, Japanese Studies, University of New England

At first, there might not seem to be any immediate similarities between a devastated Nagasaki after the US atomic bombing in 1945 and Gaza today, aside from massive destruction.

But in considering Gaza’s recovery from war – should the current ceasefire hold – much may be gleaned from Nagasaki’s experience and how it managed the painful process of starting over and rebuilding from virtually nothing.

Damage and destruction

The estimates of those killed from the atomic bombings in 1945 range widely from 70,000–140,000 at Hiroshima and 40,000–70,000 at Nagasaki.

In Gaza, the Palestinian health authorities say more than 67,000 Palestinians have died, with many more perhaps buried in the rubble.

In 1945, the US Army dropped an atomic bomb close to the centre of Hiroshima. But in Nagasaki’s case three days later, the plutonium bomb fell a few kilometres to the north of the city in a suburb called Urakami.

The bombing destroyed an area that was socio-economically less well-off, which had an impact on Nagasaki’s recovery, compared with Hiroshima.

Many of those who lived there were minorities, including colonised Korean people, Catholics and outcasts known as buraku.

And just as in Gaza, much of the city infrastructure was decimated. An atomic archive estimates that in Nagasaki, around 61% of city structures were damaged in the bombing, compared with 67% in Hiroshima.

In Gaza, the United Nations Satellite Centre estimates 83% of structures have been damaged from Israeli bombing.

Recovering bodies in a war zone

The aftermath of the bombing shows just how great the needs of the people were in Nagasaki. I conducted an oral history survey with bombing survivors between 2008 and 2016. Twelve of them – mostly children from Catholic families close to Ground Zero at the time of the bombing – detailed their experiences before and after.

After the bombing, many said the unburied dead was a confronting aspect, both physically and spiritually “dangerous”. One survivor, Mine Tōru, told me:

The dead bodies were piled in carts used for rubbish collection and dumped out in an outer area.

Barrels were placed at intersections for the collection of ashes and bones. Meanwhile, the occupying US Army cleared Urakami with bulldozers.

In Swedish journalist Monica Brau’s book, a man named Uchida Tsukasa remembered those bulldozers driving over the bones of the dead in the same way as sand or soil. When someone tried to take a photo, a soldier pointed his gun and threatened to confiscate the pictures. Brau argued that US censorship grossly impaired the recovery in Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

The clean-up and retrieval of human remains took time. Some six months after the bombing, bones were still being pulled out of the river by a Buddhist Ladies’ Association.

This process is beginning in Gaza today, too. According to news reports, scores of bodies have already been pulled from the rubble since the ceasefire took hold. Estimates suggest there could be as many as 14,000 bodies in the rubble, many of which will never be recovered.

The political challenges of rebuilding

In rehabilitating Gaza, those overseeing the process will also need to ensure the civil liberties of the poor – children and women, in particular – are not infringed upon.

In Nagasaki, some bomb survivors were forced to live in caves that had previously been bomb shelters, including three of those I interviewed.

Fukahori Jōji, who was 16 at the time of the bombing, lost his whole family, including three siblings and his mother. He told me that after the bombing, urban revitalisation and road-widening took over part of his family’s land.

Nagasaki officials were alleged to have used the reconstruction to “clean up” an outcast community.

A writer, Dōmon Minoru, explained how land was acquired compulsorily and cheaply by the council, forcing many residents out: “the Urakami burakumin (outcasts) were neutralised”.

Their landlords sold the land where they had lived and the Nagasaki Council even did away with the name, Urakami town.

As will likely be the case in Gaza, the people of Nagasaki also had to rebuild under an occupation.

US historian Chad Diehl’s powerful book about the rebuilding highlighted the “disconnect” between the American occupiers and Nagasaki residents.

The rebuilding took decades. Diehl explained there are two words for recovery often used in Nagasaki, saiken (reconstruction), which usually refers to the physical rebuilding, and fukkō (revival), which refers to wellbeing – psychological, social and physical.

The wellbeing recovery will surely take even longer than the rebuilding of the physical infrastructure in Gaza.

Hope among the rubble

Another important aspect in recovery from war: the people need to have agency over the process. They shouldn’t just be thought of as survivors of a tragedy – they are integral to the revival of their communities.

Reiko Miyake, a teacher who was 20 at the time of the Nagasaki bombing, told me she returned to teaching at her elementary school a few months later. Only 100 of the 1,500 students at the school survived, and just 19 showed up on the first day.

As holders of memory, these people took on new roles of service for their communities. They were storytellers and rebuilders seeking hope in the face of unbearable loss and ongoing lament.

May such stories of the past encourage the difficult task of recovery in what is a bereft Gaza today.

Gwyn McClelland is the former recipient of a National Library of Australia Fellowship and a Japan Foundation Fellowship. He is the president of the Japanese Studies Association of Australia.

– ref. As Gaza starts to rebuild, what lessons can be learned from Nagasaki in 1945? – https://theconversation.com/as-gaza-starts-to-rebuild-what-lessons-can-be-learned-from-nagasaki-in-1945-267437

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Martin Kear, Sessional Lecturer, Department of Government and International Relations, University of Sydney

Despite the euphoria surrounding the ceasefire between Hamas and Israel, Gaza is still wracked with violence.

More than two dozen Palestinians have been killed in recent days in clashes between Hamas and members of various clans. Hamas has also reportedly executed blindfolded men in a public square.

With the Israeli military withdrawing to pre-determined ceasefire lines, Hamas members are beginning to re-assert their control. However, powerful clans are also jockeying for position – some allied to Hamas’ ideological rival, the West Bank-based Fatah movement, and some backed by Israel.

So, who are these clans? What role do they play in Gaza? And how much of a threat are they to Hamas?

Who are the clans?

Familial clans have existed in Palestinian society for centuries. In recent decades, they have come to play a key role in Palestinian politics.

The clans are primarily collections of family groups in various parts of Gaza. One of the largest and most well-armed is the Dughmush clan in Gaza City, headed by Mumtaz Dughmush. This clan was immediately targeted by Hamas after the ceasefire.

The al-Majayda clan also holds sway in part of Khan Younis. Hamas forces raided their neighbourhood earlier this month, killing several family members. This week, however, the clan publicly supported Hamas’ effort to regain control over Gaza.

Importantly, these clans and their relationships with Hamas and Fatah are dynamic and constantly evolving. Members of both Hamas and Fatah also belong to clans. This often leads to clashes over territory and control, with clan loyalties often outweighing movement allegiances.

As Israeli historian Dror Ze’evi notes, any attempt by Hamas or Fatah to disarm the clans would be seen as an affront and met with serious opposition.

A long history of entrenched power

After the 1948 war that saw the creation of Israel and the Palestinian al-naqbah (or Nakba), around 750,000 Palestinians fled Israel to the Gaza Strip, West Bank and neighbouring Arab states.

This was when clans began to assume traditional roles of mediators and patrons. Their organised structures made them best-placed to provide welfare and assistance to a shattered Palestinian society.

As law and order, security and financial independence improved in the territories in the subsequent decades, Palestinians came to rely less on their support. This brought a decline in their power and influence.

This changed, though, during the First Intifada (1987–93) and Second Intifada (2000–05) when Palestinian society was again plunged into crisis. This was especially true in the Gaza Strip, which was known as the engine room of organised Palestinian resistance.

The Second Intifada, in particular, changed the role of the clans significantly, after Israel destroyed much of the organised Palestinian security forces and infrastructure in the territories.

With neither Hamas nor Fatah able to ensure the safety of Palestinians, this created a security vacuum. And some of the clans exploited this by transforming into paramilitary organisations. Again, this was especially true in the Gaza Strip, where Israel’s efforts to crush Palestinian resistance were felt most intensely.

When the Second Intifada ended, the Gazan clans retained a significant amount of political influence and military power. After Hamas won the 2006 elections, some Fatah-aligned clans tried to prevent it from taking power.

So entrenched were these clans that when Hamas finally assumed control of Gaza in 2007, it took the movement a year to effectively bring the more powerful clans under its authority. Even then, it was more of a truce than a victory for Hamas.

Israel backing Hamas rivals

This status quo remained until Hamas’ October 7 2023 terrorist attacks on Israel. Israel’s revenge for these attacks devastated the Gaza Strip, once again robbing Gazans of any semblance of safety and security.

Now, with Israel’s partial troop withdrawal, another security vacuum has been created. And many clans appear keen to fill it, some with the help of Israel.

In June, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu admitted his government was arming some Gazan clans, gangs and militias, such as the Popular Forces, led by Yasser Abu Shabab.

Netanyahu’s rationale was that any opposition to Hamas helped Israel and saved soldiers’ lives. It also pitted Palestinian against Palestinian, placing additional pressure on Hamas.

After the ceasefire came into effect, Hamas began targeting what it called
“collaborators and traitors” – an apparent reference to those clans and gangs cooperating with Israel.

The Popular Forces, meanwhile, have refused to lay down their arms. A dozen other new militias have also reportedly emerged across the strip in recent days, including one led by Hossam al-Astal, who said:

Hamas was always betting that there won’t be any alternative to replace them in Gaza, but now I’m telling you, today, there is an alternative force to Hamas. It could be me or Abu Shabab or anyone else, but alternatives today exist.

While this violence between Hamas and rival groups does not directly affect the ceasefire that ended the war, it is evidence that Israel is still attempting to meddle in Gaza’s security and exert its control.

But the peace plan negotiated by US President Donald Trump looks shakier by the day, given its call for Hamas to disarm. Trump said this week if Hamas refused to disarm themselves, “we will disarm them […] perhaps violently”.

The peace plan also calls for Hamas to withdraw from Palestinian politics, to be replaced eventually by the Palestinian Authority, which currently administers parts of the West Bank. However, Netanyahu has repeatedly rejected the Palestinian Authority assuming control of Gaza.

This ambiguity over the future governance of Gaza opens the possibility that the more powerful clans could become alternate centres of political power, as they had during the Second Intifada. This time they may do so under the auspices of Israel’s military occupation.

This would further fracture Gaza and weaken any effort by the Palestinian Authority to reunite the territories under a single governance structure. It would also make a future Palestinian state tenuous.

Also, Hamas will not go quietly. And this is a very real danger to peace and security in Gaza, especially if Hamas sees any resistance to its authority from the clans as little more than a proxy war with Israel.

Martin Kear 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. Hamas is battling powerful clans for control in Gaza – who are these groups and what threat do they pose? – https://theconversation.com/hamas-is-battling-powerful-clans-for-control-in-gaza-who-are-these-groups-and-what-threat-do-they-pose-267446