Category: The Conversation – Global Perspectives

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Louise Pryke, Honorary Research Associate, Department of Classics and Ancient History, University of Sydney

On Thursday, United States President Donald Trump and Chinese President Xi Jinping shook hands outside China’s Great Hall of the People, in Beijing, for 14 seconds. Almost immediately, we saw various pundits trying to interpret the meaning of the interaction.

A brief look at the history of the handshake, however, reveals the complexity of this gesture’s symbolism.

Handshakes can be traced back to ancient societies, but the exact origins are somewhat mysterious. It is often said – although difficult to prove – that the gesture developed as a symbol of good faith, with the participants showing their hands to be empty of weapons.

A further theory is that the shaking was intended to jiggle any hidden weapons loose from the sleeves – somewhat undermining it as a display of trust.

Assyrian diplomacy

The oldest known depiction of a handshake comes from the 9th century BCE, and represents a diplomatic display of unity.

On a limestone relief found in modern-day Iraq, King Shalmaneser III of Assyria and King Marduk-zakir-shumi I are shown shaking hands, symbolising renewed treaty relations between Babylon and Assyria, and an alliance between the two rulers.

Relations between the two great Mesopotamian powers had long been problematic, but the peaceful image of the handshake lingered in this artistic depiction, even as the rivalry grumbled on.

Hello, but also goodbye

Although more commonly considered a signal of greeting, the handshake has also been used as a powerful farewell gesture.

In Classical Greek art, grave reliefs depict the dead clasping hands with the living. This motif is known as dexiosis, meaning the “joining of the right hands”. It signals the end of the embodied connection between the pair, as well as the continuation of their loving bond in the afterlife.

Handshakes can sometimes also have a religious meaning. In ancient Rome, the right hand was strongly associated with Fides, the divine force of trust and good faith, so the hand clasping was a sacred bond.

The “joining of right hands” (known as the dextrarum iunctio) was a gesture of unity that could be used to symbolise weddings, as well as other social and political bonds. It was also closely linked with the Roman goddess Concordia, who was the divine personification of harmony.

A misleading symbol?

The image of peace and harmony presented by the handshake shouldn’t always be taken at face value; the handshake symbolism can also be used to conceal a union in trouble. The Roman emperors Caracalla and Geta offer a clear example.

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Read more:
Who were Caracalla and Geta, the cruel and unhinged Roman brother emperors depicted in Gladiator II?

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After the death of their father, emperor Septimius Severus, in 211 CE, the brothers ruled together. Imperial imagery shows them with right hands extended in harmony.

Yet before the year was out, Caracalla was plotting his brother’s murder. He arranged a meeting with Geta under the pretence of reconciliation, where Geta was killed – reportedly in the arms of their mother.

Even among heroes, a handshake didn’t guarantee a happy ending. In ancient Greek art, Herakles is depicted shaking hands with the centaur Pholos, symbolising a warm welcome from the hybrid being. Sadly, their greeting ends in tragedy: Herakles is attacked by intoxicated centaurs, and Pholos dies after being struck with a poisoned arrow.

Peacocking politicians

Closer to home, Australian politics has its own (significantly less bloody) version of the doomed handshake. On the eve of the 2004 federal election, the two party leaders, Mark Latham and John Howard, met outside ABC studios.

Latham’s exaggerated handshake made good political theatre but is generally viewed as a misstep. His party went on to lose the election, with the image looming large in the minds of voters.

In Assyrian art, the handshake is static. But in modern politics, handshakes are filmed in motion, replayed on news bulletins, clipped for social media, and analysed by audiences the world over. In this context, the handshake can become something of a power play.

Donald Trump’s handshakes are frequently read as tests of dominance, with long grips and close stances.

When Trump and French president Emmanuel Macron met in Brussels in 2017, their handshake was widely described as a white-knuckled contest. Macron later characterised the exchange as a deliberate “moment of truth” designed to show he would not be pushed around. Macron said he wished to signal he wouldn’t make concessions – “not even symbolic ones”.

Last year, the pair once again clasped hands in front of the cameras, for 26 seconds.

The symbolism attached to handshakes also means the rejection of an offered hand carries a powerful sting. During the 2020 Australian Black Summer bushfires, Prime Minister Scott Morrison tried shaking a firefighter’s hand while visiting the fire-ravaged town of Cobargo, New South Wales.

“I don’t really want to shake your hand,” the firefighter said. Morrison took his hand anyway.

COVID almost killed the handshake

When COVID came, people wondered if the new era might mark the end of the handshake. There were widespread health warnings against shaking hands, resulting in a rise of alternative physical greetings.

These included the fist bump – a gesture with complex origins of its own. The fist bump is a type of “dap” greeting associated with Black American soldiers during the Vietnam War.

Yet, from ancient Assyria to modern China, the handshake endures. More than a greeting, it’s a deeply symbolic tradition carrying a multitude of meanings.

Louise Pryke 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. From ancient kings to Trump and Xi: when did humans start shaking hands? And why? – https://theconversation.com/from-ancient-kings-to-trump-and-xi-when-did-humans-start-shaking-hands-and-why-283078

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Liz Evans, Adjunct Researcher, English and Writing, University of Tasmania

During the final season of Lena Dunham’s acclaimed comedy drama series, Girls, the character she plays, Hannah Horvath, says her ambition as a writer is to make people laugh about painful things. In real life, this is exactly what Dunham has achieved with her second memoir, Famesick which opens with a prime example.

“It’s very hard to remember a time – aside from brief flashes of adrenaline on a set or a date or at a fashion party where people are inadvertently dressed like kids in a school play about Greek gods – when being in my body didn’t feel like towing a wrecked car across town at midnight,” she writes.

A searingly funny, bare-hearted exploration of the cost of success, Dunham’s book charts her meteoric rise as a young screenwriter, director and actor with brutal honesty.

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Review: Famesick by Lena Dunham (4th Estate)

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Smart, sassy and highly entertaining, Famesick is ultimately a painfully astute analysis of the ways a dream job can morph into a perilous nightmare. Particularly for someone who is neurodivergent, barely out of college, emotionally dependent on their parents and suffering from a rare, undiagnosed chronic disease.

Throughout the first decade of her glittering career, Dunham balanced precariously between adulation and critical attacks. Her intelligent, sharply observed humour defined her public and professional image, but her personal boundaries were all too permeable. The demands of her job bled into her life with devastating consequences for her body.

Careering from one disastrous man to another, leaning hard on colleagues and friends, Dunham looked to others for the psychological stability she hadn’t yet developed. Her heart dangerously exposed on her sleeve, she poured the events of her life into screenplays, medicated her stress and crashed her way through stardom, unprotected by the industry that relied on her.

The price of Dunham’s success was exorbitant, involving much more than long hours and hard work. Yet while parts of her story are harrowingly visceral, she refuses self-pity and keeps away from the confessional traps of trauma porn.

There is nothing gratuitous or exploitative in these pages and Dunham refrains from blaming others for her chaos. Instead, she frames her drug addiction, unhealthy relationship patterns and debilitating chronic health issues as the cost of her own ambition, with a central question in mind. Was it worth it?

A cursed, well-connected fairy tale

Dunham’s narrative begins like a modern-day fairy tale with the story of her name, chosen by her mother “because it sounded like the name of someone who could be a movie star or a lawyer with an equal measure of success”. As a legacy, this turned out to be something of a curse.

Raised within privileged and well connected New York circles, by artist parents, Dunham began experimenting with film-making while attending liberal arts college Oberlin. Her first breakthrough was in 2010, with the award-winning semi-autobiographical movie, Tiny Furniture. She was just 23.

Six months after her film premiere, Dunham’s career skyrocketed when HBO contracted her to write and direct the pilot episode of Girls. Aiming to reflect the messy, early twenties stage of life, “when you don’t even know enough to even know what you’re looking for”, the show, like her film, starred herself and her childhood friend Jemima Kirke, with Allison Williams and Zosia Mamet completing the quartet of titular girls.

The series’ most intriguing character was arguably Hannah’s oddball boyfriend, Adam Sackler, played with unnerving conviction by Adam Driver in his first major role. Sackler, a misanthropic alcoholic, was based on Dunham’s real-life abusive lover in the first season. Later, the character evolved into a tender and devoted partner.

Off screen, Driver and Dunham’s relationship was, according to the book, also intense. The two actors skirted each other as Dunham tried to fathom her co-star’s unpredictable, occasionally explosive behaviour.

On one occasion, rehearsing a fight scene, he threw a chair at a wall when she couldn’t remember her lines. But while she recalls his verbal aggression and short temper, she also remembers spending “an inordinate amount of time wondering if Adam liked me”. Given the obvious strength of her seemingly unresolved feelings for Driver, it’s hard to know how to read her interpretation of him, though she clearly never figured him out.

With its frank, often hilarious, sometimes uncomfortable, all too relatable depictions of troubled friendship, awkward sex, career missteps and the fraught struggle for identity, Girls made a huge impact. From 2012, it ran for six seasons and five years, by which time all four main actors were turning 30. According to Dunham, the ending was planned to avoid losing “the creative clarity and specificity that gave it value”.

The show established Dunham as a sharp-sighted, uniquely talented visionary, but also attracted pernicious criticism that took her many years to process.

Accused of exploiting her nepo baby status, reviled for daring to expose her perfectly average physique, branded a myopic millennial, Dunham was both pummelled and pressurised for assuming the voice of her generation. “Or a voice,” as Dunham remembers her high-powered co-showrunner, Jenni Konner quipping. “Of a generation.”

Body as battleground

The irony of her situation was ridiculous. The whole point of Girls was to satirise the hot, flawed, contradictory tangle of young, white female adulthood experienced by Dunham and her friends. But like countless other women, Dunham was vilified for daring to give herself a platform. Worse – again, like so many other women – she experienced every mistake as an abject failure that filled her with shame.

Dunham’s extraordinary trajectory served as both example and warning to her peers, but behind the scenes of her controversial story, her body had become a battleground.

Between the pilot of Girls, when a colitis attack landed her in hospital, and the final season, when she shattered her elbow, collapsed from endometriosis and suffered a massive internal haemorrhagic cyst that caused so much pain she could barely walk, Dunham had chosen to “ignore my body’s noisy signals in favour of this thing I wanted so badly”.

In 2019, Dunham was diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, a rare genetic connective tissue disorder that explained many of her symptoms. Prior to this, her faltering health was often just another source of shame. Hospital stays and bed rest delayed production, which was expensive and upset Konner. So Dunham numbed herself with prescription pills and kept going.

On the brink of her career, Dunham was in thrall to Konner. Brought in by HBO, the 38-year-old supervisor was already a television heavyweight and represented a big sister figure for the less experienced creator, who was her junior by 14 years.

Within days of their first meeting, Konner began divulging intimate details of her life and making extremely personal remarks to Dunham, all while teaching her how to write a pilot. But once filming started, she began exercising her authority “on a more sinister note”, telling her protegee she had to gain weight and look dowdy in order to stay funny.

Years later, when working with younger women herself, Dunham could see “how absurd it would seem to link myself to them in ways beyond the playful support system an on-set adult provides”. But as the ingenue, Dunham placed all her faith in Konner, and immersed herself in a lopsided relationship that grossly transgressed professional boundaries.

Together with Kirke, and Dunham’s long-term partner, music mogul Jack Antonoff, Konner became one of the author’s “three Js”; effectively a triumvirate who “defined my world, and in relation to whom I defined myself”. Caught up in this circle of co-dependency, Dunham was invariably left with an overwhelming sense of inadequacy. She felt she was

always in trouble with one of them for something: A dinner I arrived late for and left early. A messy breakdown I couldn’t predict or control … and the endless cycle of reassurance I required afterward. The only thing I could promise was to never miss a deadline.

Dunham is more circumspect when it comes to her parents. However, it’s impossible not to speculate over her enmeshed relationships in light of her family dynamic. Supportive, but also overprotective and possessive, her mother (“the original frenemy”) and father tended to burden her with “unreasonable expectations”.

And they appeared to have been threatened by her success, as Dunham explains, “because it forced them to admit how much of their own self-image rode on their own highly specific public identities”.

Other telling details are scattered throughout the book, including the death of her beloved anorexic grandmother and her estranged brother, Cyrus, who couldn’t bear the attention his older sister’s fame commanded. (A media storm over a passage in Dunham’s first book had resulted in claims she had sexually abused Cyrus when they were both children, and though Dunham strenuously denied this and issued an apology, damage was done.)

There is enough here to know that Dunham’s comparatively untold family story has been a difficult and complicated one, with firmly embedded roots and a pretty long shadow.

After Girls, Dunham’s life imploded. Her physical suffering culminated in a hysterectomy. She broke up with Antonoff after five years. And her addiction to benzodiasepines, taken to suppress her anxiety, finally landed her in rehab.

Her recovery, chronicled in the third part of the book, was slow and incremental as she learned to reappraise her work ethic, to accept her body and to learn to live with chronic illness. She also had to let go of Konner, which broke her heart, but helped her become more forgiving towards her younger, needier self.

As the book moves towards its poignant conclusion, which sees Dunham married to British musician Luis Felber and settled into a more sustainable rhythm of work and life, the price she has paid for fame becomes clear.

“Hollywood’s culture has always been permissive toward everything but human frailty,” she writes. And with this final insight, she points her reader back to the front of her book, and the long, tragic list of now-dead stars to whom her memoir is dedicated, along with “anyone else who was too Famesick to be cured”.

Liz Evans 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. Famesick: Lena Dunham makes us laugh about a dream job turned brutal nightmare – https://theconversation.com/famesick-lena-dunham-makes-us-laugh-about-a-dream-job-turned-brutal-nightmare-282725

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Kai Lane, Traditional Owner Representative and Trainee Ecologist, Indigenous Knowledge

I’m a proud Yorta Yorta and Barapa Barapa man, an Indigenous astronomer and a trainee ecologist.

When I look at the night sky, I don’t just see stars. Instead, I see an ancient knowledge system that has guided people, culture and Country for tens of thousands of years.

But that knowledge is now at risk. In many of our towns and cities, the stars are increasingly hidden behind a haze of artificial light. And that light pollution is threatening a unique way of understanding the world.

A ‘living classroom’

The night sky is a living classroom, at once a calendar, map, lore book and weather forecast.

Indigenous Elders share this knowledge with younger people – often outdoors, on Country, beneath the stars.

They may start by talking about constellations, which have helped guide Indigenous Australians for millenia.

One example is the Wangel or “long-necked turtle” constellation. Various Indigenous communities looked to this constellation, based on the bright orange star Pollux, to know when it was time to travel and gather for different ceremonies. This may be because the bright orange star reflects the turtle’s orange colouring.

Another is the Djurt or “red-rumped parrot” constellation. This constellation is based on the Antares star which appears bright red with a blue halo, resembling the parrot’s red and blue feathers. This constellation guided communities to spots where food was abundant, such as grasslands that were full of seeds.

Constellations also hold lore, or rules, that guide sustainable practices. For example, when the Otchocut or “Murray cod” constellation appears in the night sky, we do not hunt Murray Cod. This is because it becomes visible when the rivers are warm and the fish are breeding, typically between October to November. Similarly, when the red-rumped parrot constellation appears, that means the parrot is breeding and therefore cannot be hunted.

The stars may also provide weather forecasts, but only if you have the knowledge and observation skills to understand them. For example, a star that twinkles and appears bright blue suggests a storm is coming. And if a cluster of stars twinkle quickly, it may mean the wind will become stronger.

Stars and songlines

The routes laid out by the stars are often connected to songlines. Songlines, sometimes known as dreaming tracks, are cultural pathways that connect traditional sites. Songlines also act as “drop pins” that indicate where important resources, such as waterholes and food, may be.

A well-known example is the Seven Sisters dreamtime story, which recounts the journey of seven sisters that ultimately become part of the Taurus constellation. For some Indigenous communities in central Australia, the Seven Sisters serve as a kind of celestial map. This is because the seven stars roughly mirror the location of seven waterholes.

The threat of light

As our cities grow, light pollution from streetlights, floodlights and buildings is spreading. As a result, it’s increasingly rare to see dark nights and starry skies near urban areas.

For Indigenous communities, this has a direct cultural impact.

Light pollution makes it near impossible to connect with the stars, and therefore share Indigenous sky knowledge with younger generations.

Light pollution also affects culturally important species. In Barapa Barapa culture, the microbat is a men’s totem and the nightjar is a women’s totem. Both are nocturnal animals that rely on darkness, so artificial light makes it harder for them to survive.

Beyond culture, light pollution has widespread ecological impacts, affecting how animals grow, behave and breed. Research suggests light pollution can stop clownfish eggs from hatching, shrink the brains of spiders and disorient threatened seabirds such as petrels and shearwaters.

It can also negatively affect human health. Research shows artificial light – particularly from LED lights and electronic devices – may trigger sleep and mood disorders and certain cardiovascular problems.

So, what can we do?

The good news is, we can each help reduce light pollution by making simple lifestyle changes. Here are some ideas:

• turn off outdoor lights whenever you’re not using them
• use lightbulbs with a lower brightness and warmer colouring
• choose light designs that direct light only where its needed
• close curtains and blinds at night to stop indoor light from spilling out
• during festive times such as Christmas, opt for daytime decorations instead of outdoor lights.

We can also better regulate the use of artificial light outdoors. Currently, Australia does not have any regulations around light pollution. But countries such as France have substantially reduced their light pollution levels by regulating what kind of lighting people can use and install.

Together, stronger regulation and simple lifestyle tweaks could help us tackle light pollution. And that’s key to keeping Indigenous sky knowledge alive.

Kai Lane works for Ecology Restoration Australia and also co-leads the Habitat Warriors program.

Jaana Dielenberg is an Ambassador for the Australasian Dark Sky Alliance, Science Communication Director of the Biodiversity Council, Honorary Fellow at The University of Melbourne and University Fellow (Biodiversity) at Charles Darwin University. She was previously employed under a grant funded by the Australian government’s National Environmental Science Program Threatened Species Recovery Hub.

Kaori Yokochi is a lecturer at Deakin University. She receives funding from various organisations for her ecological research. She is also a member of the Network for Ecological Research on Artificial Light and the Australasian Dark Sky Alliance.

– ref. Indigenous Australians were the world’s first astronomers. But their knowledge is now at risk – https://theconversation.com/indigenous-australians-were-the-worlds-first-astronomers-but-their-knowledge-is-now-at-risk-281435

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Alexandra Andhov, Chair in Law and Technology, University of Auckland, Waipapa Taumata Rau

On Monday, a nine-member federal jury in Oakland, California took less than two hours to dismiss Elon Musk’s lawsuit against OpenAI and its chief executive Sam Altman.

Crucially, the jury did not rule on the core claims of the case. These included whether OpenAI, the company behind the popular artificial intelligence (AI) chatbot ChatGPT, strayed from its founding mission and whether Altman and OpenAI’s co-founder Greg Brockman enriched themselves at the expense of a charitable purpose.

It decided only that Musk had waited too long to sue in relation to his core claims about breaches of a founding contract or breach of charitable trust.

A victory for Musk could have neutered OpenAI, which in turn would have probably sent shockwaves through the entire AI sector given the company’s dominant position developing the technology.

Now, however, OpenAI has a clear path to take its next big step in the AI race, even though the key question at the core of the case remains unanswered: is OpenAI a nonprofit dedicated to humanity or a corporation dedicated to its shareholders?

How it all started

OpenAI was founded in December 2015 as a nonprofit entity – an AI research lab.

Musk and a group of prominent entrepreneurs pledged US$1 billion to develop AI for the benefit of humanity, free of commercial pressure. Alongside Musk, the founding group included Altman, Brockman and computer scientist Ilya Sutskever.

The organisation’s charter committed to two key principles. First, developing artificial general intelligence safely and for the benefit of all of humanity.

Second, developing the technology openly, meaning it would be open source. This would allow others to use their underlying models, code, and research freely.

This was the deal Musk says he signed up for. And OpenAI claims it continues to honour this deal even today, despite more than US$20 billion in revenue in 2025.

Since 2015, a lot has happened. And understanding these events is key to interpreting the jury’s verdict.

A very different deal

By 2019, the original deal looked different. Given that training frontier AI models was extraordinarily expensive, Altman started to seek more cash.

OpenAI created a capped-profit subsidiary where investors could earn up to 100 times their initial investment, with any extra money flowing back to the nonprofit parent.

One of the first investors was Microsoft, which initially invested US$1 billion and more than US$13 billion over time. The nonprofit retained formal governance, the usual nonprofit rules applied, but the commercial subsidiary became the decision-maker.

That same year, OpenAI released GPT-2. The model was released partially, in stages, rather than published as open source. This was the moment the “open” in OpenAI began to read differently.

GPT-3 followed in 2020, and it was available only via a paid subscription. The inner workings of the model also remained secret. ChatGPT launched in November 2022, and reached 100 million users in a few days.

Twelve months later, OpenAI’s nonprofit board fired Sam Altman, citing a loss of confidence in his candour. This was what the governance structure was meant for: to protect the organisation’s humanity-first mission, the board had the power to remove the chief executive.

Yet, within five days, after pressure from Microsoft and the employees, Altman was back and the board was out. A new board that aligned with the commercially-driven enterprise took their seats.

The mechanism built to keep OpenAI accountable to its charter was the one that lost. Whatever the “humanity claim” of the founding mission was supposed to mean, commercial interests prevailed.

A sweeping reorganisation

In October 2025, after nearly a year of negotiation with the attorneys general of California (where OpenAI is headquartered) and Delaware (where it is incorporated), the organisation completed a sweeping reorganisation.

The nonprofit became the OpenAI Foundation, with the same mission: “to ensure artificial general intelligence benefits all of humanity”. The for-profit became a public benefit corporation, called OpenAI Group PBC. Unlike a conventional corporation, it is required to advance its stated mission and consider the broader interests of all stakeholders.

The OpenAI Foundation holds a 26% stake in the new public benefit corporation and retains some contractual and special shareholder governance rights. Microsoft owns 27% and the remaining 47% is owned by other investors and employees.

Thus the Foundation controls the public benefit corporation in form. Yet in practice, OpenAI is now a profit-seeking enterprise with a charitable shareholder. So while a number of nonprofit governance guardrails are in place, significant deficiencies remain.

The unanswered question

OpenAI is now openly preparing for a public listing at the end of 2026, at an expected valuation at up to US$1 trillion, even as it defends dozens of pending lawsuits, ranging from intellectual property infringement and consumer protection claims to a wrongful death suit.

This is the part the jury did not address.

A verdict on a statute of limitations is a statement about timing, not purpose. It tells us when a complaint can be heard. It does not tell us whether the complaint was right. And in this particular case, it demonstrates the difficulty in relying on private individuals to enforce non-profit governance norms.

Musk has said he will appeal the verdict. The appeal court will almost certainly limit itself to a narrow legal question – perhaps when a reasonable plaintiff should have understood OpenAI had changed.

The larger question about whether OpenAI is a nonprofit dedicated to humanity or a corporation dedicated to its shareholders, has now been deferred indefinitely – at least in a legal context.

The public, however, will no doubt make up its own mind about a company now worth hundreds of billions of dollars.

Alexandra Andhov is the director of ALTeR (Center for Advancing Law and Technology Responsibly) at the University of Auckland. She received funding from the Independent Research Fund Denmark for the “PROFIT” Project (Gaps and Opportunities in Corporate Governance of Big Tech Companies) to research big tech companies.

Ian Murray is a Professor of Law at the University of Western Australia, Director of the Charity Law Association of Australia and New Zealand and also a member of the Law Council of Australia’s Charity and Not-for-profits Sub-committee.

– ref. Elon Musk sued OpenAI and lost. But the core question of the case remains unanswered – https://theconversation.com/elon-musk-sued-openai-and-lost-but-the-core-question-of-the-case-remains-unanswered-283256

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Gorana Grgić, Head of Global Security, Center for Security Studies, Swiss Federal Institute of Technology Zurich; University of Sydney

As NATO counts down to its annual summit in Turkey in July, the alliance is facing perhaps the biggest challenge in its history – what a potential future without the United States, or US security guarantees, would look like.

In recent weeks, the Trump administration has taken a series of steps widely interpreted in European capitals as retaliation for allies’ reluctance to more strongly support the US position in the Iran war. It has announced the withdrawal of 5,000 troops out of Germany, halted the deployment of 4,000 troops to Poland and even reportedly considered moves to suspend Spain from the alliance.

Europe was already uneasy about Washington’s broader strategic intentions. Increasingly, NATO allies are realising they can no longer depend on the United States for their security and will have to shoulder far greater responsibility themselves.

NATO 3.0

US President Donald Trump’s narrow understanding of the value of alliances has long been known. Now, his vision for a new NATO is coming into view.

At a NATO defence minister meeting in February, the US under secretary of defence for policy, Elbridge Colby, introduced the idea of “NATO 3.0”. This would entail Europeans assuming a much larger role in conventional deterrence. The US, meanwhile, would prioritise strategic competition with China and supporting European security more selectively and from greater distance.

At the same time, the White House has reportedly been pushing to roll back decades of NATO’s mission expansion and keep Ukraine and NATO’s four Indo-Pacific partners (Japan, South Korea, Australia and New Zealand) out of the annual summit in July.

This reflects a broader transformation in US strategic thinking. NATO is no longer viewed as a political community and a pillar of the liberal international order. Increasingly, it is seen as a narrower military arrangement whose value depends on whether Europeans can shoulder more of the burden themselves and remain compliant with Trump’s agenda.

In this new paradigm, the United States is not simply asking European allies to spend more. It is telling Europe to do more with less American hardware, a looser political alignment, and fewer guarantees.

Plus, there’s a deeper problem: the erosion of trust within the alliance and the assumptions that have underpinned NATO’s deterrence posture for decades.

The result is a “Europeanised NATO” emerging by necessity rather than design. What such an alliance would actually look like remains unclear.

A focus on collective defence

One thing is certain: one single country won’t simply replace the United States as alliance leader. No European power possesses the capabilities, resources or political legitimacy to fill that role alone. Instead, leadership will likely come from the most capable states acting together.

That trend is already visible in “Europe’s minilateral moment”. The E3 group (Britain, France and Germany) and newer E5 coalition (with Italy and Poland), for example, have begun accelerating coordination among Europe’s leading military powers.

These arrangements are not alternatives to NATO. Rather, they may become the mechanisms through which a stronger European focus inside NATO is organised.

But this is where the uncertainties begin. A more Europeanised NATO is far from guaranteed to become a more cohesive NATO. The alliance has long struggled with the strategic cacophony of its 32 members, driven by divergent threat perceptions, regional priorities and strategic cultures. As American leadership recedes, those differences may become even sharper and harder to manage.

A more Europeanised alliance is, at least initially, likely to narrow its focus on collective defence and deterrence to counter Russia’s militarism and its ongoing war against Ukraine.

The broader agenda that expanded after the Cold War to include crisis management and cooperative security may increasingly become secondary. This included efforts to address global security challenges (such as supporting capacity building in countries affected by violent conflict), counter-terrorism operations, and enhancing energy and maritime security.

Yet, many NATO allies, particularly those on NATO’s southern flank, continue to argue that crisis management and cooperative security must remain core alliance functions. For countries facing instability across North Africa and the Middle East, migration pressures, terrorism and maritime insecurity, NATO cannot be concerned only with Russia.

NATO’s cooperative security partnerships in the Indo-Pacific are also increasingly important, even though they are no longer openly supported by the US administration.

Cooperation with Japan, South Korea, Australia and New Zealand (known as the IP4) has emerged as perhaps NATO’s most promising cooperative-security framework, precisely because it strengthens the alliance’s core deterrence mission.

Unlike many earlier partnership initiatives, this is tied directly to defence-industrial cooperation, technological resilience, security of supply chains for defence-critical materials, and strategic signalling.

The new reality

The “new NATO” is by no means a settled compact. It is an alliance caught between competing visions, profoundly uncertain political commitments from erstwhile supporters, and unresolved strategic questions.

Europe is moving towards greater responsibility for its security, but without a clear consensus on what greater strategic autonomy ultimately means.

The central question facing NATO today is not whether the alliance survives. It almost certainly will in some form, as one should never underestimate the binding power of bureaucracies.

The real question is what kind of alliance emerges and how credible it remains. Will it be a narrower military pact laser-focused on continental defence? Or a broader political-security community capable of managing the full spectrum of crises affecting Europe?

Gorana Grgić was previously a recipient of research and teaching funding from NATO.

– ref. NATO would survive a US withdrawal. But what kind of alliance would it become? – https://theconversation.com/nato-would-survive-a-us-withdrawal-but-what-kind-of-alliance-would-it-become-282723

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Thomas Jeffries, Senior Lecturer in Microbiology, Western Sydney University

The World Health Organization has declared the Ebola outbreak in West Africa a public health emergency of international concern.

So far, 336 people have been infected in the central African and East African countries of Uganda and the Democratic Republic of Congo. At least 88 people have died.

Ebola is caused by a group of viruses called Orthoebolaviruses. The strain of the virus responsible for the outbreak, Bundibugyo, is rare. There is no vaccine to protect the public from its spread, making it particularly dangerous.

The WHO declares a public health emergency of international concern when there is a serious, sudden, unusual or unexpected outbreak that requires an international response to reduce its spread.

It has previously declared public health emergencies during outbreaks of mpox, COVID, Ebola, Zika, polio and swine flu.

When did this outbreak start?

The virus was first detected on May 5 in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) and was confirmed as the Bundibugyo strain on May 15.

The disease had spread to Uganda, with two cases detected in the nation’s capital, Kampala.

A recent suspected case in the DRC’s most populous city, Kinshasa, did not test positive but it seems likely that the outbreak could arrive in this city.

The WHO has warned the true scale of the outbreak is likely larger than current figures suggest.

How does it spread?

African fruit bats appear to be the natural hosts of the virus. Monkeys, apes and antelope can catch the infection from bats.

The first human case was identified in the DRC in 1976. This is the 17th outbreak. The worst outbreak was the 2014–16 West Africa epidemic, which was caused by the Zaire strain and killed more than 11,000 people.

The virus spreads from human to human through direct contact with the bodily fluids of an infected person, such as blood, faeces or vomit, including after they’ve died.

Health-care workers and caregivers face the highest risk of infection.

What are the symptoms?

The symptoms of Ebola disease can be sudden and include a fever, fatigue, malaise, muscle pain, headache and sore throat.

These are followed by vomiting, diarrhoea, abdominal pain rash, and symptoms of impaired kidney and liver functions, leading to organ failure. In some cases, there is bleeding and haemorrhaging.

Overall, around 50% of people who contract Ebola die from it. The mortality rate of previous outbreaks ranges from 25–90%, depending on the strain and access to health care.

The current strain has a lower death rate of around 40%. However it’s considered more dangerous as there is no vaccine.

Why isn’t there a vaccine?

There are two approved vaccines for Ebola.

One, Ervebo, was released in 2015 and was provided to 345,000 people during the 2018–2020 outbreaks in the DRC. This works by using a protein from the Ebola virus to train our immune system to recognise and respond to the virus, without using a live strain.

The other vaccine, Zabdeno, has undergone clinical trials. It is mainly provided to primary contacts and health-care workers. This is because it requires two doses, several weeks apart, making it less suited to an emergency response.

Vaccines for the current Bundibugyo strain are sill in the research stage, having undergone pre-clinical trials in animal models.

How is it treated and managed?

There are no specific treatments for the Bundibugyo strain. Treatment focuses on managing the symptoms such as maintaining blood pressure, reducing vomiting and diarrhoea, maintaining hydration, and managing fever and pain.

Public health responses are overseen by the WHO’s Ebola surveillance strategy. The response combines community communication, rapid diagnosis, isolation, contact tracing and safe burials to stop transmission.

Contact tracing involves identifying everyone who had direct physical contact with a symptomatic case, monitoring them daily for 21 days, and isolating and testing anyone who develops symptoms.

Testing uses real-time PCR and rapid antigen tests (RATs) to detect viral particles in a similar way to COVID.

However, local conflict, poverty and difficult terrain combine to make field management challenging.

Should we be concerned?

The epicentre of the outbreak, Ituri province, is a conflict-affected, high-traffic mining region. Workers regularly move across health zones and borders, increasing the risk of spread.

At least four health-care workers have died, suggesting gaps in infection prevention at health-care facilities.

There is no current need for border closures but authorities have recommended the DRC and Uganda enhance contact tracing and scale-up laboratory testing.

Australia’s direct risk remains low, and the WHO has advised against travel restrictions. Australian border authorities require those returning from Ebola-affected regions to report this.

As this is a rapidly evolving situation, it’s important to remain up-to-date with current restrictions and quarantine guidelines.

Thomas Jeffries 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. What you need to know about the Ebola outbreak that has the WHO concerned – https://theconversation.com/what-you-need-to-know-about-the-ebola-outbreak-that-has-the-who-concerned-283133

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Michael Dezuanni, Professor, Digital Media Research Centre, Queensland University of Technology

In the months leading up to the implementation of Australia’s social media ban in December 2025, there was much discussion about the possible negative consequences.

Among these were concerns that teenagers would consume less news. As most young adults use social media for news and many rely on it, this was a real risk.

So months on, has this come to pass? In our newly-published research, we found the more young people are impacted by the ban, the more likely they are to report they are getting less news and having less opportunity to discuss news and the issues that matter to them.

Our research

In February we surveyed 1,027 young people aged 10 to 17, just two months after the legislation took effect.

As part of a longitudinal survey that has examined young Australians’ news engagement since 2017, we asked young people questions about the ban’s impact on their social media use and their news engagement.

First, we investigated if the ban had affected young people’s social media use by asking them if their engagement with each banned platform had changed at all, and if so, whether the change was a complete stop or if they just used it less.

We found 61% of under-16s who had previously been using banned platforms reported little or no change in their social media use. For the majority of young people surveyed, the ban was ineffectual.

In fact, only one in four (26%) reported their social media use had been affected.

Next, we asked young people if the ban had affected their engagement with news.

For those whose social media use was significantly disrupted, the result was stark: 51% reported getting less news as a direct result of the ban.

This finding is a significant concern because it suggests that as the ban becomes more “successful”, with a greater number of young people being removed from platforms, their news engagement will fall in parallel.

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Read more:
‘Make the platforms safer’: what young people really think about the social media ban

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The impact on civic involvement

A 2025 report from the Australian Curriculum, Assessment and Reporting Authority, based on testing of year 6 and year 10 students, finds school students’ civics knowledge is the lowest it has been since testing began 20 years ago. This is despite most young people believing it’s important to take action in the community on issues that matter to them.

Our findings show that when young people are impacted by the social media ban they lose access to news about issues they care about. They are also talking less about news and finding fewer opportunities to share their views or take other forms of action.

Our previous research shows news engagement makes young people feel knowledgeable and more capable of responding to issues.

A large body of research also shows news interest and engagement is closely associated with civic engagement. The more engaged people are with news, the more likely they are to become involved in community and social issues.

Social news or no news

It’s unlikely that being cut off from news on social media will lead young people back to traditional news sources.

Most young Australians say they don’t feel represented or heard by traditional news organisations. They also feel the news mainstream outlets create isn’t accessible to young people and doesn’t focus on the issues that matter most to them.

In our survey, 75% said news organisations have no idea what their lives are actually like, and 71% said they find it difficult to find news relevant to people their age.

Our earlier research also shows Australian news organisations rarely include young people in news stories. When they are included, they are seen but not heard.

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Read more:
On an average day, only 1% of Australian news stories quoted a young person. No wonder so few trust the media

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For instance, young people are shown in news stories in photographs and video footage ten times more than their voices are heard or they are quoted in stories.

In addition, another study of news has shown that when young people are included in breaking news events, they are often stereotyped as being lazy, dangerous and entitled.

These findings demonstrate some of the reasons young people have likely turned to social media for news in recent years.

So what should we do?

It’s likely that over time, more young people will be cut off from social media as loopholes in the ban are ironed out. This emphasises the need to find ways to encourage young people to engage with other news sources in productive and meaningful ways.

A key concern is trust. We need to educate young people about the importance of news to democratic process, providing them with insights into how high quality journalism is produced and supporting them to make informed decisions about who and what to trust online.

This can happen as part of media literacy education but this requires investments in high quality curriculum resources and teacher training.

In Australia, we are in the fortunate position that we already recognise the need for media literacy in the Australian curriculum. High quality news literacy resources are being produced by the ABC through programs such as BTN (Behind The News), and other organisations such as Squiz Kids.

At the same time, to develop trust, mainstream news organisations need to do a much better job of representing young people in fair and inclusive ways so they feel seen and heard.

Finally, it’s important to recognise that amid all of these changes to young people’s technology access, our research shows family is the first and most trusted source of news for young people. We need to help parents understand the important role they play in helping their kids navigate the news.

Michael Dezuanni receives funding from the Australian Research Council and ABC Education. He is the current Chair of the Australian Media Literacy Alliance.

Tanya Notley currently receives funding from the Australian Research Council and ABC Education. She is a board member of the Australian Media Literacy Alliance.

Simon Chambers 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. Australian teens impacted by the social media ban are getting less news: new research – https://theconversation.com/australian-teens-impacted-by-the-social-media-ban-are-getting-less-news-new-research-281988

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Jess Carniel, Associate Professor in Humanities, University of Southern Queensland

In a surprising turn of events, Bulgaria have taken home the crystal microphone trophy for the Eurovision Song Contest 2026 with Dara’s infectious dance hit Bangaranga.

It is Bulgaria’s first-ever win and all the more poignant given this year marked the country’s return to the contest after a three-year hiatus as its public broadcaster, BNT, has grappled with financial contraints.

Hosting Eurovision in 2027, while expensive, is expected to provide a welcome tourism economic boost.

Bulgaria’s win is the first time since 2017 the jury and public sentiments have been aligned. One tense moment during the voting saw Israel rise to first place thanks to the public vote, resulting in audible booing in the arena. However, Dara soared to the top of the board with 312 public votes to add to their 204 jury votes.

Bulgaria’s total of 516 points put it 173 points ahead of runner-up Israel, in the largest gap between first and second place in the contest’s history.

The bookmakers’ odds tipped Finland to win with Linda Lampenius x Pete Parkonnen’s duet of vocals and live violin, Liekinheitin. The fan favourites instead landed in sixth place.

Live instruments are not usually permitted on the Eurovision stage unless a case can be made that they are integral to the song’s artistry: it was argued successfully the violin was Lampenius’ “voice”.

Romania’s Choke Me by Alexandra Căpitănescu was another surprise favourite. Although she only gained 64 jury points, she came second in the popular vote (262 points) and third overall. It is the best outcome for a female-led rock act in the contest’s history.

In the lead-up to the contest, the song attracted some controversy, alleged to be “glamourising sexual strangulation”. In response, Căpitănescu stated, “The lyrics are about taking back control over anxiety and emotions that are choking you.”

Total eclipse of the heart

Australia’s entry was hyped by many as a potential winner. Even notorious Australia sceptic Graham Norton named Delta Goodrem’s Eclipse the one to beat.

Goodrem dazzled with Australia’s most ambitious staging since Kate Miller-Heidke’s 2019 performance. Dressed in a gown adorned with 7,000 Swarovski crystals, Australia’s golden girl was literally placed on a pedestal that ascended from a golden piano as she reached her vocal crescendo.

Australia placed second in the jury votes and ninth in the public votes to land fourth place. It is Australia’s second-best result, after Dami Im’s astounding second place in 2016.

Goodrem’s participation was partly funded by an Australian federal grant for international cultural diplomacy. Other recipients in the recent round include BlakDance Australia’s tour of the United Kingdom and Creative Australia’s support for Khaled Sabsabi’s Venice Biennale exhibit.

Goodrem’s funding underscores Eurovision’s usefulness for Australia’s cultural diplomacy and projection of “soft power”.

The inaugural edition of Eurovision Asia will be held in Thailand in November. Australia is not participating – the rules prohibit participating in both contests.

It remains to be seen whether Australia will stay in the original Eurovision or whether it will transition to Eurovision Asia in pursuit of regional diplomatic interests.

Broadcasters boycott

This year, Eurovision celebrated its 70th anniversary. But rather than uniting Europe (and Australia) through music, the absence of five regular participants indicated disunity.

Public broadcasters for Slovenia, Iceland, Ireland, Spain and the Netherlands withdrew from competition in protest of the humanitarian situation in Gaza and the European Broadcasting Union’s failure to have an open discussion and vote on Israel’s continued participation. While the contest claims to be non-political, critics point to the exclusion of Russia in 2022 after its invasion of Ukraine as a precedent.

Their absence is a blow to the European Broadcasting Union, financially and symbolically. Spain is usually one of the so-called “Big Five” – the five largest financial contributors to Eurovision. The Netherlands is also a large financial contributor but, more importantly, had been in the contest since the beginning in 1956.

The Dutch public broadcaster stated “participation cannot be reconciled with the public values that are fundamental to our organisation”. They cited humanity, press freedom and political interference as key reasons for their withdrawal.

Broadcasters have also expressed concerns that Israel had attempted to manipulate public voting in other countries over the past two years. Slovenia led the call for a detailed report on the 2024 and 2025 voting results, but member broadcasters received only a summary of its findings.

Eurovision’s Executive Supervisor Martin Green stated the contest organisers were confident the 2025 contest yielded a “valid and robust result”.

Despite this claim, before the 2026 contest broadcasters voted on a rule change seeking to mitigate third-party campaigning and interference in the voting process. As reported by the New York Times, the disparity between the statements of the executives and the resulting vote from the broadcasters raised much scepticism.

A reckoning in 2027?

Just before the 2026 grand final, Belgium’s Flemish broadcaster VRT released a statement they would be unlikely to participate in 2027 without “a clear framework for participation, an open debate, and a direct vote among [union] members”.

The European Broadcasting Union must take broadcasters’ concerns more seriously or risk losing more participants and reputational damage. Its members are seeing a gap between their values as public broadcasters and those expressed by the EBU through its actions and decisions.

Without change, this global phenomenon may also risk not seeing its next milestone anniversary.

Jess Carniel 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. Eurovision 2026: a win for Bulgaria, fourth for Australia, and continued controversy for broadcasters – https://theconversation.com/eurovision-2026-a-win-for-bulgaria-fourth-for-australia-and-continued-controversy-for-broadcasters-282252

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Lisa M. Given, Professor of Information Sciences & Director, Social Change Enabling Impact Platform, RMIT University

Tech giant Meta recently announced a set of new features to give parents greater oversight of how their children use Facebook, Instagram, Messenger and Horizon.

This follows the company’s announcement earlier this month that it is expanding age assurance checks to filter 13-to-17-year-old users into teen accounts in the United States and other countries, following Australia’s rollout in 2025. Meta is also implementing new age checks and easier reporting of underage users to support account removals.

These changes come as Meta faces increasing pressure internationally to do more to keep kids safe on its platforms.

So what exactly are the changes? And will they likely work to reduce online harm?

Enlisting AI to search for clues

Meta’s new age checks will use “visual clues” about a user’s age, such as height and bone structure, alongside analysis of social media posts and interactions, to estimate a person’s age.

Using new techniques powered by artificial intelligence (AI), the company will scan photos, videos and content on users’ profiles – including bios, captions, and comments – to estimate their age. By looking for clues such as mentions of birthday parties or school grades, Meta plans to deactivate accounts for those believed to be under 13.

However, given the known limitations of age assurance technologies, and the compliance concerns raised with Australia’s social media ban, many underage children remain active on social media platforms. What is unclear about these new “clues” is whether and how teens may be able to circumvent these new controls by ensuring their platform content gives the appearance of older, adult material.

Meta’s new process for reporting underage accounts is likely intended to address this concern.

Easier reporting of underage accounts will augment content scanning, providing another avenue to identify underage accounts. This will also use AI, alongside human reviewers. Meta says this will ensure reports are “addressed with more speed and reliability”.

Meta explains that users who are reported to be underage, inaccurately, will be able to undergo age checks to retain their accounts.

A consolidated ‘Family Centre’

Meta’s new “Family Centre” will consolidate parental supervision tools for Facebook, Instagram, Horizon, and Messenger in one place.

Through the “Family Centre”, Meta will start sending parents notifications when their teens add new topics and interests across platforms – such as photography, sports, or beauty.

Meta says this will enable parents to “stay informed” and have “meaningful conversations” with their children about the general topics they follow.

However, under Australia’s social media restrictions, children under 16 are not allowed to hold social media accounts.

This means, in Australia, topic access will only be available to parents of teens aged 16 and 17 on Instagram and Facebook. But this access will not be automatic. Parents will need to send an invitation to their teens, asking to supervise their accounts, which teens must accept.

This means children can refuse to provide access and not provide topic visibility to their parents.

This is an important limitation. It means children can retain privacy for their account content if they choose. Under article 16 of the United Nations’ Convention on the Rights of the Child, every child has the right to privacy and the right to get information from the internet and other sources.

For those who accept a parent’s invitation, Meta’s changes may introduce some privacy risks. But limiting access to general topics does preserve some privacy, as specific conversations and materials cannot be accessed.

Parents will need to be proactive

This new parental supervision feature will only be successful if parents and teens choose to use it. Parents will need to be proactive, to request access and (if approved by the teen) review the topics. Parents will also need to start conversations with their children to determine the nature of the content within those general topics.

For example, a 2025 study showed a link between frequent social media use and negative body image. It highlighted the need for “support from parents […] to mitigate these effects”.

But a general topic such as “beauty” cannot distinguish between helpful makeup tips and content promoting unrealistic beauty ideals. Similarly, a general topic such as “sports” cannot discern potentially harmful gender stereotypes affecting young athletes.

Understanding the potential risks and harms of social media content requires parents to actively view – and discuss – that content with their teens.

In 2024, Meta’s then global affairs chief Nick Clegg explained that “even when we build these controls, parents don’t use them”.

A 2023 evidence review showed that while parents with higher levels of digital literacy are more likely to use safety controls, the results of doing so are mixed. While some studies show beneficial outcomes when safety controls are used (for example, reducing risks such as cyberbullying), others show no positive outcomes, or even adverse effects (for example, increasing family conflict).

Given Australia’s eSafety Commissioner has put several social media companies on notice for compliance concerns with Australia’s social media ban, it may come as no surprise Meta is introducing these changes.

Yet, their success relies significantly on parents’ abilities – and children’s willingness – to engage with these controls. Given the technical limitations of age assurance technologies, and teens’ determination to remain on social media platforms, these are likely not foolproof solutions.

Lisa M. Given receives funding from the Australian Research Council and the eSafety Commissioner. She is a Fellow of the Academy of the Social Sciences in Australia and a Fellow of the Association for Information Science and Technology.

– ref. Meta’s new tools allow parents to better supervise their kids’ social media accounts. Will they work? – https://theconversation.com/metas-new-tools-allow-parents-to-better-supervise-their-kids-social-media-accounts-will-they-work-283073

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Xianda Huang, Ph.D. Student in Asian Languages and Cultures, University of California, Los Angeles

Diplomacy often masquerades as theater. And nearly nine years after his first state visit to China, Donald Trump returned to Beijing with an extended cast of characters.

Alongside the U.S. president on his May 2026 visit was a senior delegation of politicians including his secretary of defense, and a phalanx of business leaders and technology executives. It was a traveling display of American political and corporate power.

Not that the hosting Chinese were short of symbolic gestures themselves. Trump’s first China visit in 2017 had already shown how far Beijing was willing to go to turn diplomacy into theater. On that occasion, Chinese President Xi Jinping and his wife Peng Liyuan personally accompanied Donald and Melania Trump through the Forbidden City, Beijing’s former imperial palace, drinking tea inside the palace walls and taking in a Peking opera at the Belvedere of Pleasant Sounds, a Qing imperial theater built for court entertainment.

So what was being conveyed this time around? As a cultural historian of modern China, I took a peek beyond the official statements and trade headlines of the Xi-Trump summit and into the images, gestures and cultural symbolism on display.

The weight of heaven

The formal choreography began at Beijing’s Great Hall of the People, where the two leaders exchanged views on the Iran conflict, the war in Ukraine and the Korean Peninsula, among other items.

But the more interesting story of the visit, to me, was told outside the meeting room.

After their two-hour bilateral meeting, Trump and Xi paid a cultural visit to the Temple of Heaven in Southern Beijing. Built in the early 15th century, the temple is China’s most complete surviving imperial religious complex. For nearly five centuries, emperors of the Ming and Qing dynasties came here to worship Heaven and pray for good harvests.

Its most recognizable structure, the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests, rises in three tiers of blue-glazed tiles above a marble platform, its circular form and crimson columns translating cosmology into architecture. UNESCO inscribed the site as a World Heritage Site in 1998, recognizing it as “a masterpiece of architecture and landscape design.”

When Trump and Xi posed for photographs, they were standing in a place long associated with cosmic order and the welfare of the people. To bring a foreign leader there is to invite a particular reading of the relationship: not simply as a bargain between states, but as a relationship that Beijing hopes to associate with order, abundance and peace.

There was also a more practical layer to this symbolism. The Temple of Heaven links political authority to agricultural abundance. Emperors came here to pray not for abstract harmony but for grain. That made it a pointed setting for a visit in which American agricultural exports — soybeans, grains and beef among them — were expected to matter.

For Trump, any Chinese commitment to buy more U.S. farm goods would have clear domestic political value. For Xi, the setting allowed a hard bargaining issue — farm purchases — to be translated into an older symbolic language of harvest that spoke to both domestic and international audiences.

Before Trump, Kissinger

Trump was not the first American statesman to be brought to the Temple of Heaven.

In July 1971, Henry Kissinger, then national security adviser to President Richard Nixon, arrived in Beijing on his famous secret mission — the back-channel visit that helped re-open the door between two countries that had little direct contact for more than two decades. Between tense negotiations with Chinese premier Zhou Enlai, Kissinger made time to visit the temple.

There, standing amid the old cypress groves, he was said to have been deeply moved by the timeless atmosphere of the hall and its surroundings.

The motif of old trees and deep time returned on May 15, when Xi gave Trump a rare walk through Zhongnanhai, the walled compound that now houses the core of China’s party-state leadership. Reuters reported that a hot mic captured Xi drawing Trump’s attention to the age of the trees around them — some centuries old, some said to be more than a thousand years old. When Trump asked whether Xi had taken other presidents on similar walks, Xi replied that he had only rarely.

Together, the Kissinger anecdote and the Zhongnanhai walk reveal a recurring logic in Chinese-American diplomacy: America’s fast-moving economy is invited to look at China’s sense of tradition. Xi has used this tactic with other leaders, too. When French President Emmanuel Macron visited China in 2023, he attended a guqin performance invoking the classical idea of the zhiyin — the rare listener who truly understands one’s music.

Basketball and roast duck

Trump’s visit was not staged only through imperial grandeur, however. It also moved into a more familiar register: food, sports and popular culture.

The state dinner on May 14 was another study in careful hospitality. Chefs designed the menu to honor both Chinese culinary prestige and Americans’ — and Trump’s — known preferences: Peking roast duck, crispy beef ribs, pan-fried pork bun, tiramisu and fruit and ice cream.

Trump thanked Xi for a “magnificent welcome like none other,” then replied in a language more recognizably his own. He spoke not only of power politics but of people-to-people ties: Chinese workers who helped build America’s railroads, Chinese enthusiasm for basketball and blue jeans and the sheer presence of Chinese restaurants across the U.S.

The examples were characteristically Trumpian — simple, vivid and easy to grasp. But they pointed to something important. U.S.–China relations have never been made only by presidents, diplomats and official communiques. They have also been shaped by athletes, musicians, restaurant owners, students and tourists.

The basketball reference was especially resonant. Sports have long offered a softer language for U.S.–China relations. In April 2026, just weeks before Trump’s visit, China and the U.S. marked the 55th anniversary of ping-pong diplomacy — the famous 1971 exchange in which a “little ball” helped move the “big ball” of world politics.

Basketball now plays a similar role. For many Chinese fans, the NBA is a deeply familiar world of players, teams and memories that represents the spirit of America: Michael Jordan, Kobe Bryant, LeBron James and Yao Ming. That reservoir of affection has survived even periods of political tension. Trump, in invoking it, was drawing on something real.

A second act in the US?

The main lesson of all this symbolism is that, in U.S.–China relations, atmosphere has never been secondary.

Diplomatic theater cannot settle disputes over technology or Taiwan, or determine the future of the global order. But it can shape the mood in which rivalries are managed, and the stories that leaders tell their public about what the relationship means.

And on that front, the summit worked on several levels. To the Chinese audience, it presented their leaders as confident and capable of managing a tense relationship with the U.S. on China’s own cultural terms.

For Trump and the American delegation, it offered a lesson in Chinese traditions and culture that promotes deeper understanding across political divides. And for both societies, the references for food, sports and popular culture created a more neutral ground on which connection could still be imagined.

From the 1970s opening to Trump’s 2017 visit to the Forbidden City, and from the Temple of Heaven photo-op to the walk among old trees at Zhongnanhai in 2026, cultural staging remains central to how China presents itself to America — and how America is invited to imagine China. It was announced on May 15 that Xi will pay a state visit to the U.S. in September at the invitation of Trump. If that happens, the theater of diplomacy will move to American soil, and the question will be how Washington chooses to stage China in return.

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

– ref. From beef ribs to a ‘heavenly’ walk: Xi-Trump summit symbolism underscored American power and Chinese tradition – https://theconversation.com/from-beef-ribs-to-a-heavenly-walk-xi-trump-summit-symbolism-underscored-american-power-and-chinese-tradition-282945