Category: The Conversation – Global Perspectives

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By David Smith, Associate Professor in American Politics and Foreign Policy, US Studies Centre, University of Sydney

No US president in living memory has gone to war with less public support than Donald Trump has for the war in Iran. Even Barack Obama’s much-maligned Libyan intervention began with 60% of Americans in support in 2011. There is no poll that shows a majority of Americans supporting the Iran war, and multiple polls showing clear majorities against it. And wars usually lose public support as they go on.

Trump did not make a public case for the war before it began, because he preferred quick, surprising strikes preceded by theatrical suspense. He presented the vast military buildup in the Persian Gulf as a high-pressure negotiating tactic in the short-lived bargaining sessions over Iran’s nuclear enrichment.

Trump was undoubtedly emboldened by the tactical success of his removal of Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro, though that too was not very popular with Americans.

Wars are not necessarily better when the US government invests a huge effort in justifying them. The justification for the disastrous Iraq War, after all, was based on misperceptions, distortions and falsehoods. But by completely disregarding US public opinion before the war, Trump now finds himself in all kinds of trouble as he tries to fight it.

Americans don’t like seeing themselves as aggressors

Political scientist Bruce Jentleson argued that public support for war in the United States depends not just on how the war is going, but on the public’s understanding of the war’s aims. The US public is much more likely to support wars aimed at imposing restraints on aggressive powers than wars aimed at bringing political change to other countries.

That theory explains why the Bush administration made such an effort to claim Iraq had weapons of mass destruction and was linked to the September 11 terrorist attacks, even though “regime change” was the aim of the Iraq war.

Regime change is also, quite clearly, the aim of the Iran war. Trump has been talking about it for months, and is still talking about it.

It was only after the bombs started falling on Iran that Trump and his administration began to make the case that Iran was an “imminent threat” to the US. It wasn’t very convincing.

After all, Trump had been boasting until recently that he had “completely obliterated” Iran’s nuclear program the year before. In a video released shortly after the attacks, Trump complained about the 1979 Tehran hostage crisis, the 1983 Hezbollah attack on US marines in Beirut, and the 2000 bombing of the USS Cole, which he said Iran was “probably involved in”.

It was left to Secretary of State Marco Rubio to make the convoluted argument that the US was acting in preemptive self-defence, because it knew Israel was going to strike Iran, and that Iran would retaliate against Americans in the Middle East.

That did not play well in a country increasingly wary of Israel. A Gallup poll released just before the war began showed that, for the first time this century, more Americans said their sympathies were with Palestinians than Israelis. Recently, the biggest drop in support for Israel has been among political Independents, whose views have shifted significantly during the Gaza War.

Tucker Carlson, the loudest critic of the Iran war on the right, immediately labelled it “Israel’s war”. Joe Rogan, an influential figure among Trump’s 2024 support base of disillusioned young men, said they felt “betrayed” by the war.

Meanwhile, Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth has tried to sell the war to Americans by gloating about the death, destruction and fear being inflicted on Iran. Even as investigations show the US military was responsible for the bombing of a school that killed more than a hundred children, he dismisses rules of military engagement as “stupid”. The most recent Quinnipiac Poll showed Hegseth’s approval rating at 37%.

Americans are unprepared for sacrifice

Despite high-profile opponents like Carlson and Marjorie Taylor Greene, Trump still has most of the MAGA base with him for now. They were never really opposed to foreign wars. What they hated was losing foreign wars, and Trump is promising them swift victory in Iran.

But Trump has not prepared them or anyone else, including his own cabinet, for the costs this war will incur. Especially the disruption to global oil markets, which the International Energy Agency is calling the largest in history, and which will elevate the cost of everything from travel to food.

Trump’s rhetoric about the price of war has hardly been Churchillian. One night he posted on social media that a short term increase in oil prices is “a very small price to pay for U.S.A., and World, Safety and Peace. ONLY FOOLS WOULD THINK DIFFERENTLY!”

But the next day he was forced to calm markets by claiming the war was nearly over.

The Iranian regime, whose main goal is survival, is well aware of the political and economic vulnerabilities of the US and its Middle Eastern allies, and these appear to be what it is targeting.

At the beginning of the war, Iran’s seemingly scattered attacks on infrastructure, embassies and hotels in Gulf states were a source of mirth for some American commentators. But these were eventually enough to shut down large swathes of energy production and shipping, and inflict far more pain than Trump or his supporters were expecting.

Trump was already facing the same domestic problem that Joe Biden faced. It doesn’t matter how much you tell Americans about positive GDP, stock market and employment numbers; if they are struggling with the cost of living, their view of both the economy and the President will be bleak.

Trump’s glib dismissals of the price of oil are sounding a lot like his airy reassurances at the beginning of the pandemic.

Few Republicans in Congress have been prepared to stand up to Trump over the war. But as midterm elections approach, many of them will be silently praying he finds an excuse to end it as soon as possible.

David Smith 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. Why Donald Trump is losing the war at home – https://theconversation.com/why-donald-trump-is-losing-the-war-at-home-278079

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Daniel Baldino, Senior Lecturer in Politics and International Relations, University of Notre Dame Australia

Millions of people recently watched a video posted by the White House showing US strikes against Iranian targets. The clip didn’t just resemble Call of Duty: it mixed real strike footage with footage from the game itself, complete with “killstreak” animations designed to reward performance and simulate achievement.

Governments are increasingly communicating war using the visual language of video games and internet memes. In doing so, they don’t just trivialise violence – they make it harder to grieve the victims of the violence, by anaesthetising our responses to the suffering.

It’s a tactic that shapes how we interpret violence, and which quietly determines whose deaths register as deaths at all.

War as memes and viral content

United States Defence Secretary Pete Hegseth has publicly celebrated the strikes and wider military campaign, dubbed Operation Epic Fury – collapsing the distance between military spokesperson and combat enthusiast.

The White House video is not an isolated case. Across social media, videos with military footage are circulating as gaming clips or memes: drone strikes with cross-hair graphics, explosions set to pulse-pounding music. One Department of Homeland Security video of ICE raids was set to the Pokémon theme song.

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Read more:
How watching videos of ICE violence affects our mental health

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But the same features that make the content go viral also flatten the reality behind the footage. Important context often disappears. Who was targeted? Were civilians harmed? Was the strike legal? These questions are rarely addressed in a 20-second clip.

War’s visual language is never innocent. It carries instructions about how to feel. A huge problem arises when governments deliberately adopt the visual language of gaming to present real military operations. What this language doesn’t carry is consequence.

Meme culture compounds this. Irony and humour are structurally anti-grief. They create distance as their primary function. When violence circulates as a joke or a highlight reel, the emotional reality of it becomes difficult to access.

War is still seen, but it is no longer felt in the same way.

From CNN to Call of Duty

The so-called “CNN effect”, associated with television coverage of conflicts from Vietnam to Somalia, was premised on proximity. Footage of suffering brought distant wars into living rooms and generated moral pressure on governments.

While imperfect and selective, the underlying logic was that “seeing” produced “feeling”, and feeling produced accountability. The camera lingered. The correspondent named the dead. Viewers were given time to register what they were witnessing.

That model was already fracturing before social media. The 1991 Gulf War introduced a new aesthetic: precision strikes filmed from above, in which targets were rendered as abstract geometries on green-tinged screens.

The human body disappeared from the frame, replaced by the seductive promise of technological accuracy: the “smart” bomb or the “surgical” strike. American critic Susan Sontag noted how this outcome trained audiences to see military technology rather than military consequences.

The ungrievable

The philosopher Judith Butler has written about “grievability” as the condition that makes some lives recognisable as worth mourning. Not all deaths are grieved equally. Some bodies are rendered, by culture and politics, outside the frame of moral concern.

The visual grammar being used by the White House frames people as game avatars. And game avatars, by definition, are not grievable. They are targets – kills to be celebrated.

On February 28, more than 160 girls, most under 12, were killed by a US air strike at the Shajareh Tayyebeh elementary school in Minab. They did not appear in the White House’s content at all.

When pressed, President Trump suggested Iran may have struck the school itself using a Tomahawk missile and then said: “I just don’t know enough about it. Whatever the report shows, I’m willing to live with that”.

Hegseth, meanwhile, has already dissolved the Pentagon’s civilian protection mission and fired the military’s lawyers responsible for keeping operations within international law, describing them as “roadblocks”.

Democratic scrutiny of war depends not just on information but on moral response: the capacity to feel that what is happening matters.

What can be done?

Memes will continue to circulate. Governments will continue to compete for attention in crowded digital spaces.

But the starting point is recognising what is actually at stake. The problem is not simply that viral clips lack context (although they do). It is that the visual grammar they deploy actively forecloses the emotional responses that serious public debate requires.

Wes J. Bryant, a former US special operations targeting specialist (who worked on civilian harm prevention) puts it plainly:

We’re departing from the rules and norms that we’ve tried to establish as a global community since at least World War II. There’s zero accountability.

Audiences, too, can learn to pause. Not just to ask what happened, but what the format in front of them is preventing them from feeling, and about whom. That question, taken seriously, is the beginning of accountability.

War is not experienced as a highlight reel. It is experienced as loss, uncertainty, grief and irreversible destruction. Restoring that understanding is not a media literacy problem. It is a moral one.

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

– ref. A deadly strike, or Call of Duty clip? How the US government is trying to memeify the war on Iran – https://theconversation.com/a-deadly-strike-or-call-of-duty-clip-how-the-us-government-is-trying-to-memeify-the-war-on-iran-277974

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Matthew Ricketson, Professor of Communication, Deakin University

Does the world need another biography of Rupert Murdoch? It depends what it has to say and who has written it.

Bonfire of the Murdochs, by journalist Gabriel Sherman, looks promising. He made his name with an exhaustively researched biography of long-running Fox News head and serial sexual harasser, Roger Ailes. The Loudest Voice in the Room (2014) has 98 pages of endnotes and a team of three fact-checkers. It was made into a series starring Russell Crowe as Ailes. Sherman was also the screenwriter of Donald Trump biopic, The Apprentice, which Trump fought hard to prevent being screened.

Promising credentials, yes, but what does Sherman add to the eight Murdoch biographies already published?

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Review: Bonfire of the Murdochs by Gabriel Sherman (Simon & Schuster).

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The first was Simon Regan’s business-oriented biography published in 1976. It has been forgotten, but not so George Munster’s A Paper Prince (1985), which laid out Murdoch’s deal-making modus operandi, nor William Shawcross’ 1992 semi-authorised work, which charted Murdoch’s creation of the first global media empire.

Michael Wolff’s The Man Who Owns the News (2008) painted the most vivid portrait of the Australian born media mogul. Flushed with the success of buying The Wall Street Journal, Murdoch agreed to more than 50 hours of interviews with Wolff and opened the doors of his notoriously secretive media empire to the Vanity Fair media columnist.

Wolff did report the Wall Street Journal takeover in detail, but he also retailed a breathtaking amount of industry and family gossip.

One example among many. He writes that Prudence, Murdoch’s daughter from his first marriage, gave him exasperated grooming advice after Murdoch botched a DIY makeover as he tried keeping up with Wendi Deng, his third wife who was the same age as his children.

“Dad, I understand about dyeing the hair and the age thing. Just go somewhere proper. What you need is very light highlights.” But he insists on doing it over
the sink because he doesn’t want anybody to know. Well, hello! Look in the mirror.
Look at the pictures in the paper. It’s such a hatchet job.

Murdoch’s response? He told her she needed a face lift.

Murdoch’s response to Wolff’s biography was that it needed more than a face lift – it should not have been published with the errors it had. He did not sue for defamation, however. Wolff has since become an even more controversial figure: he is embroiled in suit and counter-suit with Donald and Melania Trump over Wolff’s claims about Trump’s relationship with convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein.

The long-running struggle for succession in the Murdoch family famously inspired the brilliantly coruscating fictional television series Succession (2018–2023). Sherman’s is the first biography to deal with its resolution, which happened only last September, when Rupert Murdoch and his eldest son, Lachlan, succeeded in changing the terms of an apparently irrevocable family trust.

The trust had been created when Rupert and his second wife, Anna, separated in 1998. (She died on February 17 this year.) It was her attempt to put a brake on Murdoch’s continual pitting of his children, especially his sons, against each other in the quest to succeed him as head of News Corporation.

It didn’t work. Rupert’s plan for Lachlan to lead the company, continuing its hard right position led by Fox News, eventually succeeded. To a greater or lesser degree, the other children from his first two marriages – Prudence, Elisabeth and James – loathed what Fox News had become and, reportedly led by James, were prepared to use their votes in the family trust to oust Lachlan after Rupert died.

In the end, though, they agreed to sell their shares in the family trust for US$1.1 billion each. Grace and Chloe, the two children from Murdoch’s third marriage, are part of a newly drawn family trust with their own shares in News.

The machinations behind this episode were reported last year in two extraordinary pieces of journalism, by Jonathan Mahler and Jim Rutenberg of The New York Times, who were leaked 3,000 pages of court documents about the case, and by McKay Coppins in The Atlantic magazine. He secured a long, revealing interview with James Murdoch, who was labelled in Rupert and Lachlan’s legal materials the “troublesome beneficiary”.

For those without subscriptions to these publications, my colleague, Andrew Dodd, and I discussed the case in The Conversation here and here.

An outstanding journalist

Sherman, another outstanding journalist, has been reporting on the Murdochs since 2008. Ailes threatened him with legal action and engineered a smear campaign over The Loudest Voice in the Room, as Sherman calmly detailed in “A Note on Sources” at the end of the book. It was Sherman who in 2016 broke the news about Fox News presenter Gretchen Carlson’s sexual harassment suit against Ailes that led to his ousting from the network.

In 2018, he revealed Murdoch came close to death after a fall on Lachlan’s maxi-yacht while sailing in the Caribbean.

Sherman also had the inside scoop on the end of Murdoch’s fourth marriage in 2022. The then 91-year-old mogul not only broke up by text with his wife, supermodel and actor Jerry Hall, but included in the divorce terms a demand she not give story ideas to the scriptwriters of Succession!

Hall later realised the marriage had ended, in Murdoch’s eyes, some time before, when he met Ann Lesley Smith, a 65-year-old former dental hygienist turned conservative radio host and follower of QAnon-style conspiracy theories. At a dinner at Murdoch’s ranch in Carmel, Smith gushed that Murdoch and Fox News were the saviours of democracy, and offered to clean his teeth for him.

Murdoch proposed to Smith in early 2023, but he soon called off the wedding after another dinner, where she told then Fox News host Tucker Carlson he was a messenger from God. Hall felt humiliated by Murdoch’s treatment of her but told friends she took satisfaction in making an effigy of him, tying dental floss around its neck and burning it on the barbecue.

All these disclosures, and gossip, are included in Bonfire of the Murdochs. Indeed, Sherman’s reporting, for New York and Vanity Fair magazines, forms a good deal of the book. If you have already read his lengthy articles, there is not much new here. But if you haven’t, or if you are confused by the countless deals and complex financial/political transactions of Murdoch’s seven-decades-plus career in media, this biography is well worth reading.

‘Destroyed everything he loved’

At 241 pages, it has the virtue, as well as the shortcoming, of being the shortest of the Murdoch biographies. Sherman has a gift for succinctly summarising key themes.

The first is that more than most, Murdoch’s media empire is secretive. Remember, his plan to change the family trust was supposed to be heard behind closed doors. We only know about it because The New York Times was leaked the court records, which revealed Murdoch’s testimony. As Sherman puts it: “Rupert crafted narratives in the shadows, but the courtroom would require him to do it in the open.”

Initially, it did not go well for Murdoch. Under cross-examination, his determination to get his way no matter what and his sexism towards his daughters was revealed.

The second theme is the extent to which Murdoch will ignore the stated mission of his media outlets – report what is happening accurately – if it aligns with his commercial goals. During the global pandemic, while Fox News hosts fulminated about lockdowns and advocated dubious treatments like hydroxychloroquine, Murdoch followed the science and, Sherman reports, was one of the first in the world to be vaccinated, in December 2020.

“He was scared for himself and was very careful,” a person who spoke to Murdoch at the time recalled for Sherman. Questioned about the disconnect between his network’s coverage and his own behaviour, Murdoch would deflect responsibility for the presenters’ commentary, even though this seeming passivity contrasted sharply with his history of editorial interference.

As Sherman comments: “The hypocrisy revealed something essential about Rupert’s worldview: he had always been able to separate his personal beliefs from his business interests.” He adds that Murdoch thought then president, Donald Trump, grievously mishandled the pandemic but refused to use his position as head of Fox to pressure the president to treat it seriously.

Nor did Murdoch take any responsibility when a friend told him the channel was killing its elderly audience. According to one of Sherman’s sources, he replied: “They’re dying from old age and other illnesses, but COVID was being blamed.”

The biographer quotes other sources who say the quid pro quo was that Murdoch had successfully lobbied Trump in his first term to take action against Facebook and Google, who were winning advertising revenue from News (along with other legacy media companies) and to open up land for fracking, which was to boost the value of Murdoch’s fossil fuel investments.

The third theme is that Murdoch built the world’s first global media empire but has always run his companies as a family business, with him as the first and ultimate decision-maker. Nimbleness is the advantage of this approach. As with any autocratically run organisation, though, there are disadvantages. Among them is that no one has a perfect strike rate for success.

Along the way, talented executives such as Barry Diller, former chief executive at Twentieth Century Fox or Chase Carey, former top executive at 21st Century Fox, knew – or found out – that their path to the top was blocked not only by the company’s head, but by Murdoch’s desire to advance or protect family members. Murdoch once told shareholders complaining about nepotism: “If you don’t like it, sell your shares.”

From the 1950s, when Murdoch was the “boy publisher” of the afternoon newspaper he inherited from his father, the Adelaide News, he behaved, Sherman writes, as though “promises were like inconvenient facts: fungible when they got in the way of profit.” The newspaper’s editor, Rohan Rivett, was the first among several, alongside numerous politicians, who learnt this to their cost.

The fourth theme is that Murdoch has always wanted his children involved in his business, but only on his terms. “Growing up,” Sherman writes, “the children’s relationship to their father was expressed through the business, making them equate paternal love with corporate advancement.”

Where earlier writers have drawn parallels with Shakespeare’s King Lear, Sherman thinks King Midas is a more appropriate comparison.

Like the mythical monarch whose touch turned everything to gold, Rupert built a $17 billion fortune but destroyed everything he loved in the process. His media outlets stoked hatred and division on an industrial scale, and amassing that wealth
required him to damage virtually anything he touched: the environment, women’s
rights, the Republican Party, truth, decency – even his own family.

The weakest part

These are potent themes that resonate with those of us living in the country of Murdoch’s origin, which brings us to the book’s shortcoming. Australia features early on, but this is the weakest part of the book. Murdoch’s early years are well covered in Munster and Shawcross’s biographies and more recently have been given detailed attention in Walter Marsh’s Young Rupert (2023).

There are basic errors: The Daily Mirror in Sydney, which Murdoch bought in 1960, is misnamed The Mirror, while the Herald and Weekly Times Ltd., which he bought in 1987, becomes the Herald Times Group. Nor does it help that on the book’s final page, Sherman writes “Rupert was with his fourth wife while his children were scattered across the globe” – when Murdoch had discarded Jerry Hall in 2022 and was now married a fifth time, to Elena Zhukova.

Fourth, fifth? It’s easy to lose count. More seriously, in buying the HWT, Murdoch became the dominant newspaper owner in Australia, but his control did not account for 75% of the market, as Sherman writes. It is more like 60% to 65%, depending on whether you use circulation or number of newspapers as a measure.

Murdoch’s early years in Australia are briskly dealt with in chapter one, before he moves on in his relentless quest to acquire more media properties in the United Kingdom and the US. This is true as far as it goes, but once Murdoch does head north, his biographer loses almost all interest in how Australia is faring – even, or especially actually, after Murdoch acquires the HWT.

The same is true to a lesser extent with Sherman’s treatment of the UK. The phone hacking scandal is covered, of course, but not much else is once Murdoch arrives in New York in the mid-seventies.

What is lost, then, in Sherman’s compression, is context for events. Such as: where did the phone hacking culture come from? What lengths did News go to in denying the practice went beyond two “rogue reporters” or in obstructing official inquiries? Why have they since paid so much money settling with phone hacking victims, rather than going to court?

Missing, too, is any sense of the connections between Murdoch’s media outlets in the three main countries in which News operates. Has the hostile coverage of trans people been imported from Fox News to Sky News Australia? What affect has his media outlets’ campaigning against action on climate change had across these three countries?

These, and others, are relevant questions to ask about a global media empire. Rupert Murdoch may have handed over the company to Lachlan in 2023, but he led it for 70 years, he created its culture and he still wields influence. In case it passed you by, it was Rupert Murdoch – not Lachlan, according to the reports – who in February had a private dinner at the White House with US president Donald Trump.

Matthew Ricketson is the co-author, with Andrew Dodd, of Getting Murdoched: How Murdoch’s Media Wields Power and Punishment, to be published by Hardie Grant in mid-2026.

– ref. Secrets, sexism and hypocrisy: Bonfire of the Murdochs reveals the family’s real succession drama – https://theconversation.com/secrets-sexism-and-hypocrisy-bonfire-of-the-murdochs-reveals-the-familys-real-succession-drama-275938

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Zachary Aman, Professor of Chemical Engineering, The University of Western Australia

As the US–Israel war on Iran escalates, so too does the global oil crisis.

The effective closure of the Strait of Hormuz, through which roughly 20% of the world’s oil and natural gas flows, and the targeting of oil production facilities in the Middle East have lifted the oil price by 34%.

The price of Brent crude – the global benchmark – now sits at more than US$100 a barrel.

This means the cost of the many products derived from crude oil, such as petrol or gasoline, has also surged.

But how does crude oil become the fuel you pump into your car?

Like simmering a pasta sauce

Most consumers are transfixed when the oil price exceeds US$100 per barrel. But the economic reality is both more complex and longer-term.

That’s because the content of the barrel itself is not directly usable.

Rather, it must be broken (or “fractionated”) into the chemicals used to produce more than 6,000 everyday products.

These household items include the textiles and clothing dyes on our literal backs, electronics in our hands, flooring beneath our feet, and pharmaceuticals regulating our bodies.

Some of these products can be replaced with non-petroleum alternatives. But doing so can increase consumer prices by an order of magnitude.

The process of transforming a barrel of oil into these products is managed in the discipline of chemical engineering, through which high-temperature vessels (called “columns”) allow fluids to be split (or “fractionated”) into less- and more-dense products.

The experience is similar to simmering a pasta sauce, where the chef uses a precise temperature to boil off water (the less dense product) and concentrate the chemistry that makes tomatoes enjoyable.

Splitting in sequences

Unlike the hundreds of chemicals in the humble tomato, the tens of thousands of individual chemicals in a barrel of oil mean that between five and ten of these fractionation columns must be placed in sequence, each producing a more precise product than the last.

Most consumers would be familiar with the products of the first few columns, in which natural gas is the least dense (or “lightest”) product that typically powers the above-mentioned chef’s stove.

The next-densest product is gasoline, which accounts for around half of the volume of a traditional barrel of oil.

With additional heat and cost, the heavier products can be split into kerosene (“jet fuel”) and, with yet more heat, the diesel fuel that constitutes around one quarter of an average barrel.

Separating out the remaining products requires extremely high temperatures. This results in chemicals used to manufacture modern roads, rubbers, synthetic fabrics, plastics and cosmetics, among many others.

Not all oil is the same

The final complication emerges from the geological processes that themselves “manufacture” crude oil.

Over millions of years, high pressures and temperatures degrade and liquefy (or “cook”) volumes of dead plants and animals, often deep under the ground.

As the plants, animals and geology of each biome are unique, so too is the crude oil formed under ground. This reality means that one barrel of oil cannot simply be traded for another and used in the refinery columns described above. The collection of columns requires months to reach stable operation, and they are heavily dependent on the type and properties of the oil at the inlet.

Crucially, the time lag between producing one barrel of oil and finding its chemistry in the hands of an eager shopper is typically between one and three months, depending on the complexity of the consumer product.

Gasoline prices may feel an impact within a few weeks, while consumer plastics (such as food storage containers) may require multiple quarters to demonstrate an impact.

Alongside countries heavily dependent on crude oil imports, those with limited crude oil reserves or refining capacity are further exposed, as they must also import the crude oil “products” described above.

Nearly one third of the oil exported through the Straight of Hormuz is destined for China, while together China and other Asian buyers make up three quarters of these export destinations.

The conflict itself involves Western and Middle Eastern forces. But it is ironically those Pacific nations that carry the greatest near- and mid-term inflationary risk as this crucial shipping lane is put in jeopardy.

Zach Aman has consulted with multiple oil and gas companies, including Woodside, Chevron, Shell, and INPEX. He has received funding from oil and gas companies as well as the Australian Research Council. He is an Affiliate Faculty at the Colorado School of Mines.

– ref. Oil, petrol, gasoline: a chemical engineer explains how crude turns into fuel – https://theconversation.com/oil-petrol-gasoline-a-chemical-engineer-explains-how-crude-turns-into-fuel-278198

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Charlotte Setijadi, Lecturer in Asian Studies, The University of Melbourne

In the first two weeks of March, two young Indonesian women died alone in a hospital in Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

The first, who Indonesian officials have identified as 22-year-old Susi Yanti Br. Sinaga died following a critical illness, despite having no prior health conditions.

Her family said Susi left Indonesia in December 2025 with her boyfriend and a promise of a job in Malaysia. She ended up being trafficked into a scam compound in Cambodia. Within three months, she was dead.

The other woman, a 20-year-old shopkeeper from Pekanbaru, Riau province, arrived in Cambodia under similar circumstances and died only a few days after Susi. According to multiple NGO sources who assisted her in her final days, her death was linked to the physical and sexual abuse she suffered in the compound.

These women are among the thousands of young people who have found themselves stranded in Cambodia in recent months after leaving scam compounds that had opened their doors in anticipation of rumoured police raids.

Many who have made their way to the Cambodian capital are Indonesian. They began lining up outside the Indonesian embassy in Phnom Penh in mid-January, seeking help to return home.

By March 9, the embassy said it had received more than 5,400 requests for assistance from Indonesian citizens in less than three months. Over 1,800 have so far been repatriated with the embassy’s assistance. Most of the others are now hosted in a dedicated facility, where they wait for their turn to leave.

These numbers represent a sharp increase from 2025. They highlight the scale of trafficking of young Indonesians into “scam factories” across Southeast Asia, mostly in Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar and the Philippines.

Clearly, what is happening to these Indonesians is a complex structural problem, shaped by regional labour precarity and weak regulation.

Yet, Indonesia is largely overlooked in existing media coverage of the issue. Relatively little is known about how Indonesians are entrenched in the industry as victims, operators and stakeholders.

Why young Indonesians are in the industry

In March last year, the Indonesian government reported that, with the assistance of the Thai government, it had rescued and repatriated 569 of its citizens from online scam compounds in Myanmar.

This drew national attention to the issue, raising urgent questions about why and how so many young people are being lured into this work.

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Read more:
Scam Factories: The inside story of Southeast Asia’s fraud compounds – Part 1

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Spurred by limited employment opportunities, low wages and political discontent, Indonesian youths have been leaving the country in droves.

Some of these young people enter the scam economy willingly. Others go voluntarily but find themselves trapped once inside. Many more are deceived from the outset, lured into becoming so-called “cyber slaves”.

Among rescued trafficking victims, familiar stories emerge. Most are recruited through friend referrals or fake job offers on social media. Once at their destination, however, they are abducted and trafficked into scam compounds. Their passports are confiscated. They are told they owe large fees for flights, visas, accommodation or training, and must work to repay this debt.

Some of these victims eventually rise through the ranks to become scam operators, supervisors or even recruiters who lure other Indonesians, often friends or family, into the industry.

As NGOs have highlighted, however, progression in the industry often involves coercion and debt bondage. Many are compelled to recruit others as a condition for repaying imposed debts, avoiding punishment or securing improvements in their living conditions.

These dynamics blur the boundary between victim and perpetrator.

This contributes to the criminalisation of trafficked individuals. They should instead be recognised and protected as victims of modern slavery.

Escaped from slavery, greeted as suspects

In Indonesia, public discourse tends to frame those who end up in scam compounds either as criminals or gullible youths who fell for false promises.

Following the mass repatriation of Indonesian nationals from Myanmar scam centres last year, returnees were detained and questioned before being released.

They were processed primarily through law enforcement procedures rather than victim support mechanisms.

Indonesian police have also noted some citizens returning from Myanmar’s scam centres refused to be repatriated because of the money they were earning as scammers.

Those who have recently emerged from scam compounds in Cambodia are even more likely to be perceived as willing perpetrators. Cambodia’s growing reputation as a regional hub for cybercrime has fostered a widespread assumption that Indonesians who travel there already know what kind of work awaits them.

Recent news coverage highlighting the large number of Indonesians working in Cambodia’s online industries has further entrenched this narrative, casting them as complicit actors deliberately scamming fellow citizens.

In the wake of the reports of the recent Cambodian raids, some government officials have called for returnees to face criminal prosecution under Indonesian law.

On social media, some popular commentators have argued Indonesian scam workers should not be repatriated. Some have even called for them to be stripped of their citizenship.

Who benefits from blaming trafficked workers?

Framing returnees as potential criminals is politically convenient but counterproductive. It discourages victims from seeking help from authorities.

It also makes it more difficult for civil society organisations, already strapped for funding, to mobilise support for these young Indonesians.

This ultimately benefits traffickers and industry operators.

This narrative also obscures how Indonesians are now involved at all levels of the scam industry, from recruiters and transnational operational staff to elites with financial stakes in the businesses.

The persistent focus on criminalising trafficked workers diverts attention from the deeper structures of deception and exploitation underpinning the industry.

With youth unemployment still high in Indonesia, this issue is not going away. Until trafficked workers are treated as victims rather than criminals, and the structures that feed this industry are addressed, the cost will continue to be borne by vulnerable young people like Susi and the young woman from Pekanbaru who died alone in Phnom Penh.

Charlotte Setijadi has previously received research funding from Singapore’s Ministry of Education and the Singapore Social Science Research Council. She is currently one of the co-convenors of the University of Melbourne’s Indonesia Forum.

In 2024, Ivan Franceschini co-founded EOS Collective, a non-profit organisation dedicated to investigating the dynamics of the online scam industry and the criminal networks behind it, and supporting survivors of forced criminality in these operations.

– ref. Desperate to flee abuse in Cambodian scam compounds, these young Indonesians are now facing suspicion back home – https://theconversation.com/desperate-to-flee-abuse-in-cambodian-scam-compounds-these-young-indonesians-are-now-facing-suspicion-back-home-274853

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Natalie Kon-yu, Associate Professor, Creative Writing and Literary Studies, Victoria University

In 2016 and again in 2024, Donald Trump ran against two supremely qualified presidential candidates, who both lost. Both had decades of service to government and high-ranking jobs within Democratic administrations. Both were women.

Hillary Clinton and Kamala Harris’ losses have prompted a thousand think pieces on whether or not the United States is ready to elect a female president. The old adage, dating back to the Cold War, is that women are too emotional to be trusted with the nuclear button.

But the men in the current White House might be the most emotional leadership group the US has ever had. And while their outbursts often seem spontaneous and even silly, we should take them seriously.

War and fury

Trump chronicler Michael Wolff shared his belief this week that “nothing” Trump says is ever “related to meaning” but it’s “all related to what he is feeling” – which, he says, informs Trump’s behaviour around the Iran war. The Daily Beast, which reported Wolff’s comments, approached the White House for comment.

Communications director Steven Cheung responded by calling Wolff “a lying sack of s–t” who has “been proven to be a fraud”. (Wolff has been criticised for his casual approach to fact-checking, including in his Trump biography.) Cheung continued:

He routinely fabricates stories originating from his sick and warped imagination, only possible because he has a severe and debilitating case of Trump Derangement Syndrome that has rotted his peanut-sized brain.

This in itself is unusually emotional (and colloquial) language for an official White House communication, but is not surprising in the era of Trump 2.0.

From “I HATE TAYLOR SWIFT!” to the president’s many legal suits against those who have wronged him and his apparent need for his name to be on buildings – including the former Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts – big feelings are on full display in the era of Donald Trump.

Those big feelings are also reflected in the Trump administration’s policies. What is ICE but an agency dedicated to the irrational fear of foreigners? Greed, envy, anger, lust, fear: they are all on constant display in Trump’s White House. They come from his chief of staff Stephen Miller, former DOGE head Elon Musk, Hegseth and Vice President JD Vance.

Even the name for the current war on Iran, Operation Epic Fury, is emotional. Compare it to the names of the initial wars on Afghanistan (Operation Enduring Freedom) and Iraq (Operation Iraqi Freedom).

This comes after Trump renamed the Department of Defense to the Department of War last year, to make it sound more aggressive. “Maximum lethality, not tepid legality,” Hegseth said of the change, which is reflected in his language about Iran this week:

Death and destruction from the sky all day long […] This was never meant to be a fair fight, and it is not a fair fight. We are punching them while they’re down, which is exactly how it should be.

Fear, anger and MAGA

Sociology professor Thomas Henricks explains how fear, a negative emotion “that feels bad to possess”, is often converted to anger, “an emotion that restores agency, direction, and self-esteem”.

Sociologist Arlie Russell Hochschild has long focused her research on feelings. She was studying MAGA supporters before they had a name. For her latest book, she looked at how shame and pride motivated this cohort in Kentucky. Many of those she spoke to “saw Trump as a bully — but a bully who stood up for them, against what they perceived as urban liberal elites”.

Giving loyalty to a dynamic leader, writes Henricks, can seem “the surest route to regaining” personal power that feels like it is “slipping away”.

English professor Lauren Berlant believes Trump supporters are attracted to the president’s performance of freedom, through saying whatever he feels. When expression is policed in the name of civil rights and feminism, she observes, it rejects “what feels like people’s spontaneous, ingrained responses”.

But the “Trump Emotion Machine” delivers “feeling ok” and “acting free”. It means “being ok with one’s internal noise, and saying it, and demanding that it matter”.

Gender and emotion

For centuries, political philosophy has noted that much social power is “affective”, relating to moods, feelings and attitudes. Whatever you think of Trump, his policy and style make him exactly the kind of case study political affect theorists have been waiting for.

He is the most conspicuous proponent yet of what we call aesthetarchy – or rule by feelings.

Many feminists and other writers have critiqued the gendered inequity of displays of emotion. Explaining the politics of sex roles, feminist philosopher Marilyn Frye says we all internalise and monitor ourselves to adapt to outside expectations – or “the needs and tastes and tyrannies of others”.

For example, “women’s cramped postures and attenuated strides and men’s restraint of emotional self-expression (except for anger)”.

The crying man was once mocked as womanly and the athletic or politically powerful woman was seen as manly. Both transgressions maintain positive valuations of the masculine and negative valuations of the feminine. Sex roles were once a stronger form of control than they are now.

Yet in MAGA, we have something different happening.

Tantrums and explosions: MAGA men

Hegseth has been criticised, even ridiculed by some media outlets, for his emotional outbursts in media briefings. A Pentagon briefing on US strikes on Iran last June, during which he lashed out at reporters, was labelled a “tantrum” by The Daily Beast.

Miller, too, has been criticised for on-air “temper tantrums”. Insiders revealed his daily conference calls “routinely descend into him loudly berating staff and launching into full-on meltdowns”.

Vance, who made headlines for leading a verbal attack on Ukranian president Volodymyr Zelensky at the White House last year, wrote in his memoir about his struggles to control his anger: “Even at my best, I’m a delayed explosion.”

It is hard to imagine Democrat women getting away with such behaviour. Just this week, Fox News titled an article: “Hillary Clinton storms out of Epstein deposition after House lawmaker leaks photo from inside.” It described a “stunning moment” when Clinton was made aware of the fact that Colorado congresswoman Lauren Boebert violated House rules by taking and sending a photo of her during her deposition.

Caricatures of femininity: MAGA women

What about the women of MAGA? How does emotion drive their involvement?

In 1983, Andrea Dworkin published Right-Wing Women, a confronting study of Republican women’s active participation in conservative politics in the US. She proposed that right-wing activist women submit to men and the patriarchy in exchange for structure to their lives: shelter, safety, rules and love from men.

As these rewards are conditional on their ongoing obedience to men, right-wing activist women become not just complicit, but enthusiastic perpetrators of violence and discrimination against other women.

What motivates the trade? Fear of vulnerability to men and male violence, which they believe naturally finds a target in “an independent woman”.

The “hates” Dworkin documents are just as relevant now, more than 40 years later: anti-abortion, antisemitism, homophobia, anti-feminism, disregard for female poverty, and more. The tirades of White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt against diversity, equity and inclusion are prime examples of a woman attacking feminine solidarity to strengthen her quest for power.

MAGA women can be emotional – but we only see them unleashing emotions that serve the needs of the most powerful men.

Instead of embodying soft emotions such as empathy, care and kindness (like New Zealand’s former prime minister Jacinda Adern), the women of MAGA strive to be as tough as the men in their administration.

Look at Kristi Noem, who was secretary of homeland security – until she was ousted last week. A new book reports Trump saw Noem’s pre-election admission of shooting her own dog as a reason to appoint her to implement his mass-deportation agenda.

And she did play this hard-nosed role. She responded to the murders of mother Renee Nicole Good and intensive care nurse Alex Pretti by ICE agents by saying the victims were involved in “domestic terrorism”.

MAGA women often nod to conventional femininity with their hyper-feminine looks. Both Noem and Leavitt have been described as having what commentators dub “Mar-a-Lago Face”. This “caricature of femininity”, often achieved through surgery, Botox or fillers, not only signals wealth, but is a form of submission.

“The unspoken message Mar-a-Lago face gives to men in power,” HuffPost reporter Brittany Wong suggests, “is that the woman is willing to tear into their flesh and change their entire individual appearance to gain approval.” (Admittedly, a few men, such as Matt Gaetz, have also been accused of having Mar-a-Lago face: a masculine, rather than feminine, caricature.)

Yet, as we have seen, power for MAGA women is always conditional. Noem’s “toughness” was not enough to save her. Many possible reasons have been cited for Noem’s firing, including the US$220 million advertising campaign for ICE featuring her on horseback, and alleged misuse of public funds.

But she is not the first administration official to be accused of such things – or incompetence. Remember when Hegseth accidentally sent a top-secret group chat detailing an upcoming US strike to a journalist? He still has his job.

Macho sensitivity

Men’s anger, lust or avarice has often been rationalised as acceptable or inevitable on a gendered basis. Women’s emotional outbursts were long labelled hysterical.

But on Truth Social, X and other MAGA forums, emotional outbursts no longer need rational underpinning to be positively valued. They can be seen as perfectly masculine. As Berlant says, unleashed emotion by MAGA types on social media is seen as anti-political-correctness: “being ok with one’s internal noise, and saying it, and demanding that it matter”.

Trump’s actions, such as his threat to sue comedian Trevor Noah for a joke at the Grammys, are seen as another example of strongly anti-woke, pro-white leadership, rather than thin-skinned emotional hysteria. So is Trump calling Robert De Niro “another sick and demented person with, I believe, an extremely Low IQ” last month, in response to the actor calling him an “idiot”.

Behind the machismo there is a strange vulnerabilty, a heightened sensitivity to the slightest criticism or perceived threat to the white, male order.

Last month, Daily Show host Jon Stewart pointed out the hypocrisy, after MAGA complaints about Bad Bunny performing in Spanish at the Super Bowl. “When did the right become such fucking pussies?” he said. “Remember 2017? Remember what you hated about liberals? Perpetually offended, safe spaces, censoring free speech, culture of victimhood. Remind you of anyone?”

In some ways, perhaps this public outpouring of emotion from the predominantly white men in Trump’s government should not be surprising. A former high-school acquaintance of Miller told Vanity Fair that, even as a student, he was “all about this victimhood idea, that he was this lonely soldier crusading”.

The rise of the alt-right, which contributed to Trump’s arrival in office, coalesced through movements such as GamerGate: the online social harassment campaign against female video-game journalists by predominantly white men on 4chan, who felt both victimised and infuriated by calls for more inclusive casts in video games.

Stewing in the same digital sewers were the incels: single men who consider themselves hard-done by women who have not deigned to have sex with them. The number of lives this cohort has claimed through violent attacks is comparable to those killed by Islamic State terrorists in the same period. They are particularly known for their appetite for violence.

These acts are, in part, fuelled by the irreconcilable shame and humiliation they feel at the wounding of their masculinity, along with a desire for retribution against women and any men who provoke their jealousy.

Trump’s administration, and indeed his own emotionally volatile behaviour, validates these hurt feelings through his slashing of funding support for diversity and inclusion initiatives, and violent roundups of people deemed “un-American” — even some US citizens. In this way, the current administration is a GamerGate fantasy brought to life.

Power through feeling

Political philosophy tells us social power often manifests primarily through aesthetics, or how things feel, rather than logic. The rise of totalitarianism in Europe during the 1920s and ‘30s motivated many journalists and commentators to pay close attention to this problem. Much of the work was published after 1945, some of it posthumously, by well-known writers such as Hannah Arendt, George Orwell, Primo Levi and Simone Weil.

Emotions – particularly anger and fear – are classic tools used by authoritarian leaders. But anger can work the other way, too. Political science professor Bryn Rosenfeld argues it can power action against repressive regimes, fuelling resistance and encouraging risk.

Either way, Trump’s electoral success and political power – helped by his supporters’ deep emotional identification with him – show that the philosophers are onto something important.

Emily Booth receives funding from the Advanced Strategic Capabilities Accelerator.

Michael Burke, Natalie Kon-yu, and Tom Clark do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Friday essay: ‘epic fury’ – the men of MAGA might be the most emotional US leaders ever – https://theconversation.com/friday-essay-epic-fury-the-men-of-maga-might-be-the-most-emotional-us-leaders-ever-277227

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Anna Marie Brennan, Senior Lecturer in Law, University of Waikato

When the United States and Israel launched Operation Epic Fury against Iran nearly two weeks ago, the first confirmation didn’t come from governments. It came from commercial satellites.

Images from US companies Planet Labs and Vantor captured smoke billowing over central Tehran and ships burning at the coastal city of Konarak – evidence of strikes on naval bases, airfields and missile sites that global media confirmed within hours.

But space-based technology was not just observing the conflict, it was also a target. US officials said early strikes hit “Iran’s equivalent of Space Command”, undermining Tehran’s ability to coordinate via satellite.

Iran has also used extensive “spoofing” to create false GPS signals to mislead receivers about their true location.

Simultaneously, US Space Command and Cyber Command launched operations to jam, hack and disrupt Iranian software systems, known as “non-kinetic” attacks in the jargon of modern warfare.

Such operations are a kind of “silent sabotage”, disabling communications or corrupting GPS signals without blowing anything up with conventional “kinetic” attacks.

This combination of advanced battlefield tactics and the rapid commercialisation of space technology, as well as the erosion of the old rules-based order in general, means international law is now falling well behind.

Blurred lines of accountability

Non-kinetic tactics have quickly spilled into civilian life. In January, amid anti-government protests, and later during the first wave of strikes, Iran used GPS jamming and spoofing to disrupt Starlink terminals, which civilians and protesters depended on to stay online and share information during internet blackouts.

At the same time, commercial satellite imagery became part of the conflict itself. After Planet Lab’s images revealed Iranian retaliatory strikes on US and US-linked sites in the Persian Gulf, the company delayed releasing new imagery to avoid aiding real‑time damage assessment by Iranian forces.

On March 10, Planet Labs extended the delay time to two weeks for non-government users, but the US military still receives immediate access.

Modern warfare depends heavily on these kinds of commercial, dual-use space systems. The same satellites that time financial transactions, support hospitals and manage global logistics also guide military operations.

This blurs the traditional legal boundary between civilian and military objects and activities. The International Committee of the Red Cross has warned repeatedly that interference with satellites can harm civilians by disrupting power grids, navigation, emergency services and humanitarian operations.

Outer space is not a legal vacuum. The United Nations’ Outer Space Treaty, the UN Charter itself, and international humanitarian law all apply to warfare in orbit. But the Iran war shows how real‑world practice is advancing faster than these legal frameworks.

A proper treaty is unlikely

Dual-use satellites providing both civilian broadband and military communications also complicate decisions about what constitutes a lawful target.

Legal experts say satellites providing essential civilian services should be presumed to be non-military unless direct military use is demonstrated. But this precept is tested daily over Iran.

Another challenge is political neutrality. If a private company based in a neutral state provides data that can assist military operations elsewhere, the neutral state may face serious questions and diplomatic pressure from other governments about whether it should be held responsible.

The law has not caught up with these commercial realities. Planet Lab’s imagery delays show how companies are having to improvise policy themselves during armed conflict.

And because cyber-attacks can disable military systems without causing physical destruction, they can fall short of “armed attack” thresholds under international law. States can exploit this legal grey zone to gain strategic advantage.

New legal norms may eventually evolve out of the behaviour of governments and commercial operators rather than through formal agreements and treaties. Indeed, geopolitical tensions make a new treaty on military space operations highly unlikely.

This leaves companies, regulators and militaries to define the boundaries of acceptable conduct through their real‑time responses. The result is a battlefield where satellites shape strategy faster than lawmakers can respond.

Anna Marie Brennan 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. Commercial space technology is shaping the Iran war – the law can’t keep up – https://theconversation.com/commercial-space-technology-is-shaping-the-iran-war-the-law-cant-keep-up-277940

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Tamer Morris, Senior Lecturer, International Law, University of Sydney

Since the United States and Israel launched their war against Iran, most international law experts appear to be speaking with one voice on the legality of the attacks.

Legal experts have said the attacks violated Article 2(4) of the UN Charter, which prohibits the use of force against states. The US and Israel have not produced any evidence that Iran posed an imminent threat to either of them. And neither has brought the matter to the UN Security Council. As such, this was a clear breach of international law.

But even though most scholars agree the strikes were unlawful, the public and political debate has shifted somewhere else entirely.

Instead of wrestling with the legal questions, many politicians, commentators, and everyday observers are counterbalancing the illegality with arguments about legitimacy.

Both Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and US President Donald Trump have cast the war as a “necessary” fight between good and evil. Netanyahu said:

I know the cost of war. But I know sometimes that war is necessary to protect us from the people who will destroy us. […] We have to understand that we’re fighting here the bad guys. We’re the good guys. These people massacred their own people.

Canada and Australia, two of the US’ closest allies, have both used strikingly similar language in their statements about the war, saying they supported the US:

acting to prevent Iran from obtaining a nuclear weapon and to prevent its regime from further threatening international peace and security.

This idea of legitimacy – that is, what is “right”, “necessary”, or “just” – is now being thrown around in almost every conversation about the war.

Two arguments for a ‘just’ war

These arguments echo centuries‑old thinking about “just” wars.

Christian philosophers such as St Augustine (4th–5th century) and St Thomas Aquinas (13th century), for example, were early proponents of what is known as the “just war theory”. Basically, this means you
may violate the moral rule against violence if the cause is “just”.

In modern debates, arguments about the legitimacy of wars tend to fall into two categories.

The first claims attacks like the ones launched by the US and Israel are morally just and therefore ought to be permitted, regardless of what international law says.

This line of reasoning goes something like this: “So what if the action breaches international law? We removed an evil dictator.” Or: “Do we really want Iran developing nuclear weapons or long-range missiles?”

The statements by Netanyahu and Trump frame the use of force as morally necessary, implying that if an action feels righteous, legality should not be a hindrance.

The second argument dismisses international law altogether as ineffective or irrelevant.

The strand of legitimacy reasoning is also becoming common. It’s reflected in statements like: “Where was international law when people were being killed on the streets in Iran?” or “How can international law matter if Iran is constantly threatening western states and funding a proxy war?”

The conclusion drawn here is simple: if the law fails to prevent harm, it must be irrelevant. And if international law is irrelevant, then the US-Israeli strikes on Iran are legitimate.

Both of these lines of reasoning carry their own risks, not least the danger of allowing subjective morality to replace objective legal constraints.

Can a morally just war be deemed illegal?

The first argument hinges on the notion that the US and Israel strikes on Iran are just, given the brutal, repressive nature of the Iranian regime and the fact it is pursuing nuclear weapons. And international law should allow just actions.

But who decides what is just?

For the US and some of its allies, this is a binary moral equation: Iran is bad, we are good.

But this argument can also be made from Iran’s perspective: Israel and the US are bad. Therefore, we need nuclear weapons to protect ourselves.

Once states are permitted to act on their own sense of morality and justice, the international system goes down an extremely dangerous road. Every state can consider itself the “good” actor in its own story. If we allow individual morality to override the law, moral chaos follows.

Historically, moral arguments about “civilisation”, “enlightenment”, or “improvement” were also used to justify colonisation and slavery.

This is still happening in different contexts today: one group assumes its moral compass is universal, superior and mandatory for all others. If the world returns to that mode of thinking, the strongest states will once again become the arbiters of what counts as “good”.

International law must therefore remain objective, free from claims of moral exceptionalism.

Does international law still have relevance?

The second argument is even stranger: where was international law when a state like Iran committed atrocities?

This requires a clearer understanding of the role of international law. If we disregard international law because someone violates it, it’s like rejecting the rule book while still using its language to call out a foul.

Without it, there would be no norms to appeal to, no expectation of protection, no shared belief that certain harms are prohibited.

This argument also doesn’t follow logic. Murders still happen in countries like Australia. Should we therefore abandon domestic laws that prevent them?

Of course, there are double standards in international law. Powerful states have greater impunity and weaker states face more scrutiny.

But double standards also exist in domestic legal systems – wealthier people generally receive better outcomes than those with less means.

The existence of inequality in international law, then, shows the need for reform, not the abandonment of the law altogether.

Why this matters

The Iran war reveals a dangerous shift in the way states justify their actions: a growing preference for moral storytelling over legal reasoning.

Once the narrative of a “just war” replaces the rule of law, there is little left to restrain the powerful states from dominating the weaker ones.

The purpose of international law is not to determine who is morally good; it is to maintain order in a world where every state believes it is waging the “good” fight.

Tamer Morris 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. ‘We’re the good guys’: why moral storytelling doesn’t make the war on Iran necessary or legal – https://theconversation.com/were-the-good-guys-why-moral-storytelling-doesnt-make-the-war-on-iran-necessary-or-legal-277952

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Steven Roberts, Professor of Sociology, School of Social Sciences, Monash University

Over the past two years, viral clips, news headlines and TV series such as Adolescence have ensured much of the public has encountered the “manosphere” – an online ecosystem that repackages misogyny, anti-feminism and male grievance as self-improvement and hustle.

Journalist Louis Theroux is further lifting the lid on this dangerous ideology with his new Netflix documentary, Inside the Manosphere, in which he showcases the individuals driving this culture.

In his measured and sometimes risky style, Theroux traces not only the rhetoric of “high-value men”, but also the livestream formats and business models that sustain this world. The result is both illuminating and unsettling.

An insidious ideology

What emerges in Theroux’s exposé is not just provocation, but a clear misogynistic worldview. Across interviews and through influencers’ own content, we see the defence of a regressive gender hierarchy – and attempts to restore it.

Women are described as having innate value through their beauty and sexuality, yet dismissed as less rational and emotionally stable. Monogamy is framed as binding for women, but optional for men. Gender equality is blamed for cultural decline.

At times the language is openly authoritarian. Infamous influencer Myron Gaines describes himself to Theroux as a “dictator” in his romantic relationship. He casts intimacy as something he permits, and domestic care as something owed to men.

But Gaines also rejects that he is a misogynist; he claims he loves women, but that women don’t know what they want, and must be led.

The hypocrisy is striking. Several manosphere figures such as Harrison Sullivan publicly deride women who use platforms such as OnlyFans, while claiming to privately profit from managing their accounts.

Misogyny as a business model

Theroux also shows how the audiences of these influencers form.

In one early scene, young boys who look to be around tween age (with blurred faces) repeat lines about hating women and gay people with unsettling ease. Later, young adult men speak of having “no value” unless they accumulate wealth, status and dominance. Working a nine-to-five job is framed as submission to the “matrix” and the “hustle” as freedom.

The complaint that stable work no longer guarantees security will resonate with many. But in the manosphere, economic strain becomes personal failure: if you are struggling, you have not worked hard enough. This is not just ideology. It is a business model.

Subscription “academies”, private groups and coaching schemes convert insecurity into income. In one example from the documentary, we see American influencer Justin Waller promoting The Real World – an online university run by his close friend and business partner Andrew Tate (who is currently facing charges of rape and human trafficking in multiple countries).

Young men and boys are told they are deficient unless wealthy, muscular and emotionally invulnerable, and then charged for access to the mindset said to fix them. The hierarchy that elevates dominant men and denigrates women simultaneously and exploitatively monetises the boys beneath it.

The worldview is not confined to provocation. In one segment, Waller’s partner Kristen explains that she feels fulfilled staying in her “lane”, and caring for the children and home, while he occupies his role as provider and leader.

She speaks warmly of their respective “masculine and feminine energies”, presenting inequality not as constraint but as comfort – despite viewers learning she has no legal right to his wealth as they are not legally married.

Breeding ground for conspiracies

Running alongside the hustle narrative is a thread of conspiracy theorising. The “matrix” is invoked as a metaphor for societal and institutional systems said to keep men compliant and blind to alternative paths to power.

From there it darkens into talk of shadowy elites engineering cultural decline, including “moral” decline and the erosion of men’s place in the world (which they bizarrely link to the growth of pedophilia).

The “manfluencers”, notably Sullivan and Gaines, suggest recent political developments – such as the rise of President Trump – vindicate their worldview.

Theroux’s instinct is to return to the manfluencers’ own accounts of absent fathers and unstable upbringings. That humanising impulse tilts the story toward sympathy and, problematically, to trauma as a key explanation.

But misogyny does not require trauma to flourish, nor are most boys who experience hardship drawn into sexist worldviews. These ideas are ideological and structural, with long-standing gender hierarchies repackaged and broadcast at scale.

The real-life consequences

Inside the Manosphere does acknowledge harms to women, but doesn’t dwell on it very long.

One segment on schools uses news clips from English-speaking countries to signal the spread of misogynistic language among boys. But the documentary could have done more to highlight these significant manosphere-inspired flow-on effects.

Research I conducted with Stephanie Wescott and colleagues extensively documents how manosphere narratives have permeated schools internationally. This has resulted in higher levels of harassment and gender-based violence by some boys against girl peers and women teachers, eroding women’s workplace safety and girls’ participation.

Theroux is right to suggest we are all, in some sense, now living inside the manosphere. Understanding what drives the men at its centre matters – as does focusing on the real-world harms they cause.

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Read more:
Andrew Tate’s extreme views about women are infiltrating Australian schools. We need a zero-tolerance response

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Louis Theroux: Inside the Manosphere is on Netlix from today.

Steven Roberts receives funding from the Australian Research Council. He is also a Board Director at Respect Victoria, but the article is written wholly independently from this role.

– ref. Louis Theroux’s Inside the Manosphere exposes the business model of misogyny – https://theconversation.com/louis-therouxs-inside-the-manosphere-exposes-the-business-model-of-misogyny-277509

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Ari Mattes, Lecturer in Communications and Media, University of Notre Dame Australia

Film critics – myself included – love to bemoan the death of high-quality cinema in the age of streaming, pointing to mediocre Best Picture Oscar nominees as evidence that the production of great (or even good) films is on the wane.

But perhaps things are changing. Are people sick of being inundated with short videos on TikTok and Youtube, and once again hankering for a cinematic experience? The quality of this year’s nominees suggests they are.

For the first time in a while, most of the nominated films are excellent – and nearly all of them are watchable.

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Read more:
The Oscars aren’t a meritocracy – there’s a complex formula for winning

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My top pick: Sentimental Value

Joachim Trier’s Sentimental Value is my pick for the Best Picture Oscar. It’s the kind of meticulously crafted film in which the naturalism seems effortless.

The narrative follows acclaimed filmmaker Gustav Borg (Stellan Skarsgård), a quintessential Euro-auteur, who comes back into the lives of his estranged daughters Nora (Renate Reinsve) and Agnes (Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas) following their mother’s death.

Gustav is making a new film, and wants his daughter Nora – an acclaimed theatre actress who has her own demons to battle (stage fright among them) – to star in it.

Nora assumes it’s a cynical manoeuvre for funding on her father’s part and refuses. So Gustav casts American star Rachel Kemp (Elle Fanning) instead, who is immediately out of her depth.

The drama unfolds around the family home in Oslo, interweaving narratives of the home’s history across generations with the tensions plaguing its current inhabitants.

Sentimental Value has a strikingly lyrical quality. Some may say it’s overdone, but every element is so perfectly executed that it doesn’t come across as pretentious or laboured. It is, in many respects, thoroughly sentimental – yet never feels like it’s performing this as some kind of effect.

Despite its considerable formal and narrative complexity, it plays in a starkly simple fashion, thanks to the light touch of Trier, coupled with stunning cinematography by Kasper Tuxen Andersen.

The lead performances by Reinsve, Lilleaas and Skarsgård are extraordinarily convincing and, perhaps more surprisingly, Fanning is awesome as the uncomfortable American trying to please the European artiste.

Sentimental Value brilliantly weaves a sense of European social and cultural history with carefully observed character moments, becoming, by the end, a kind of treatise on the affirmative potential of art to transcend and transform interpersonal barriers.

Despite the difficulties of life, the detritus of broken promises and hearts, and the disappointments minor and not so minor, we can still come together – beautifully and wholeheartedly – through the practice of that abstract dream that is called art.

Other excellent contenders

There are a few other strong contenders – films which, any other year, would have stood out above the pack.

Bugonia

Yorgos Lanthimos is one of the most acclaimed filmmakers of the past decade, and yet his films have been hit and miss. After his last great film, the 2015 black comedy The Lobster, Bugonia marks a return to form.

The film follows bumbling paranoiac conspiracy nut Teddy (Jesse Plemons) as he and his half-witted cousin Don (Aidan Delbis) kidnap Michelle Fuller (Emma Stone), the CEO of pharmaceutical company Auxolith.

Fuller is the kind of ruthless business leader who appears on the cover of Forbes magazine with the caption “Breaking Barriers” and who spouts endless nonsense about diversity while her company wreaks havoc on the planet and the people around them.

According to Teddy, she is also an “Andromedon” alien sent to Earth to enslave and exploit the human population, bringing death to humans as it has been brought to the bees.

The brilliance of the film largely revolves around its manipulation of our identification with the two leads. At times Teddy seems like a lunatic serial killer, and Fuller a heroic victim. At times we empathise with Teddy, while Fuller looks like a manipulative, cold-hearted sociopath.

The whole thing builds up to an immensely satisfying resolution, suitably nihilistic and absurd in equal measure.

As is often the case with Lanthimos’ films, the figures are caricaturish, but the comedic timing – and the oscillation between humour and discomfort for the viewer – is spot on, so it works.

Sinners

Ryan Coogler’s Sinners is a great yarn: a well-executed rock ‘n’ roll fable slash vampire siege, full of electrifying music.

It’s 1932. Twin gangster brothers Smoke and Stack (a dual role played by Michael B. Jordan) return from working for Al Capone in Chicago to Clarksdale, Mississippi, to open up a juke joint.

Their cousin Sammie (Miles Caton), a cotton picker and bluesman – with Charley Patton’s guitar – steals the show at the hugely successful opening night, fulfilling the legend of a musician who can play so well the barriers between the living and the dead come down. Everything seems to be going well – until some redneck vampires decide to assail the venue.

The whole thing is rather gaudy and silly. But like its forebear From Dusk Till Dawn (1996) – it’s so energetically (and pleasurably) handled that it doesn’t matter.

Michael B. Jordan is brilliant in the two roles, and the end result is a muscular, satisfying film that feels like a good pulp novel or comic book – capped off with a Buddy Guy jam session in the final moments.

Sinners is a delicious dream. It’s unlikely to win Best Picture; there was a time, not so long ago, when this kind of genre film wouldn’t have made it into the mix. But it’s well worth its more than two-hour runtime.

Marty Supreme

It would be hard to think of a stupider premise for a movie. In the 1950s, fast-talking entrepreneurial New York hustler Marty Mauser (Timothée Chalamet) has to raise money so he can make it to Japan to beat world number one Koto Endo (Koto Kawaguchi) in the table tennis showdown of the century.

Yet, director/co-writer Josh Safdie treats the premise with enough seriousness that we end up with a high octane sports film to rival Rocky IV. This is helped by the stunning cinematography by Darius Khondji. Shot on 35mm film, the images have a rich colour and texture rarely matched in digital cinematography.

There’s also a dynamite score from Daniel Lopatin, and an anachronistic soundtrack featuring several stellar 1980s pop tunes from the likes of Public Image Limited, New Order and Tears for Fears, to name a few.

Despite Marty’s arrogance, sweet-talking, womanising, con-artistry and generally bad behaviour, Chalamet invests the character with enough pathos and humour that he comes across as a thoroughly loveable – or at least likeable – rogue.

He is a crackpot whose self-belief and willingness to do anything to achieve his dream tricks the viewer into becoming equally invested in his absurd quest as he (and the film) bounce around New York and the world like a bright ping pong ball.

Marty Supreme is an odd – and oddly arresting – film capturing something of the madness at the heart of the American dream. Mauser does whatever he can to make it to Japan. And after several escapades – and some downright brutal scenes featuring cult director Abel Ferrara as an ageing gangster – he does make it.

The rest

Unusually for the Oscars, the pack of 2026 nominees is rounded out by several other good films.

Although not as good as some of his other films, such as Neighbouring Sounds (2012) and Bacurau (2019), Brazilian director Kleber Mendonça Filho’s The Secret Agent is a rollicking political thriller. Set in the 1970s, it features a standout performance by Wagner Moura as a dissident academic evading persecution from a brutal dictatorship.

Paul Thomas Anderson’s One Battle After Another is a wacky comedy occasionally masquerading as a serious political action thriller. It follows the burnt out leftist Pat Calhoun (Leonardo DiCaprio) as, with his daughter Willa (Chase Infiniti), he evades capture by police and a militia led by the moronic Steven J. Lockjaw (Sean Penn). The whole thing is pretty silly, but like its inspiration – Thomas Pynchon’s 1990 novel Vineland – it is fun nonetheless.

F1 is likewise good. This finely wrought racing flick follows all of the delightfully dumb cliches of the genre. Hard-boiled and burnt-out old timer Sonny Hayes (Brad Pitt) makes it to Formula One for the first time, and contends with a new era of racing epitomised by his nemesis, the brash young gun Joshua Pearce (Damson Idris).

It’s hard to imagine such a film being nominated for Best Picture in any other era; Tony Scott’s Days of Thunder (1990) is equally stupid, but better made, and has been universally lampooned by critics. But people seem to be craving (and appreciating) big screen popcorn films in an era where streaming and second-screen viewing has all but destroyed commercial narrative cinema.

Only three nominees stick out as dreary

Clint Bentley’s Train Dreams is an earnest but visually unappealing Netflix film, following a ho-hum period love story about class, racism and the American Dream. Joel Edgerton is solid as usual, and the film is watchable enough, but the whole thing seems rather tired. And the digital video look really doesn’t work with the kinds of exterior, panoramic images that dominate the film.

In Frankenstein, director Guillermo del Toro takes one of the duller, more proselytising novels in the Gothic canon and gives it a suitably ponderous treatment. Oscar Isaac hams it up in full actor mode as Dr Frankenstein. Jacob Elordi is ridiculous as the monster. And Christoph Waltz as Harlander delivers such humdingers as “Can you contain your fire, Prometheus, or are you going to burn your hands before delivering it?” (in case you didn’t know, the novel’s subtitle is The Modern Prometheus).

Made for Netflix, Frankenstein tries hard to look sumptuous with period décor, but it can’t mask the sterility of its digital images. While the novel, at least, has a simple elegance to it, del Toro’s version is meandering, gaudy and cheap-looking.

It is difficult to treat Hamnet – the unbearably pretentious latest film from director Chloe Zhao – seriously, because the filmmakers do it for you. Though there are some things to like – Paul Mescal, for instance, is nice to watch, the cast are generally proficient, and the score is fine – this self-satisfied nonsense plays more like an Instagram video performing its own seriousness than a genuinely engaging feature film.

7 hits out of 10

As usual, the best films of 2025 haven’t been nominated for Best Picture (where’s Sirât, Redux Redux, or Harvest?). Nonetheless, most of this year’s nominees are films that warrant watching more than once for a variety of reasons: pleasure, complexity, nuance.

Perhaps Hollywood is starting to make good films again after decades of superhero trash. Or, at least, the Academy has started to recognise them.

Ari Mattes 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 Oscars are usually a mess, but this year’s Best Picture nominees are strong. Here’s who should win – https://theconversation.com/the-oscars-are-usually-a-mess-but-this-years-best-picture-nominees-are-strong-heres-who-should-win-274431