Category: The Conversation – Global Perspectives

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Gabriel da Silva, Associate Professor of Chemical Engineering, The University of Melbourne

Reports are emerging of black rain falling over parts of Iran in the hours after US-Israeli airstrikes on oil depots on the weekend, with some outlets describing it as “acid rain”.

Iranian residents have reported headaches, difficulty breathing, and oil-contaminated rain settling on buildings and cars. Iran’s Red Crescent Society warned rainfall following the strikes could be “highly dangerous and acidic.”

As an atmospheric chemist and chemical engineer who researches air pollution, these reports are very worrying, and indicate much more than just acid rain.

This rain would include acids but also likely a host of other pollutants that are harmful to humans and the environment in the short and long term. It may even be worse than the term “acid rain” conveys.

More broadly, the thick clouds of toxic smoke over densely populated areas in Iran are also a major problem for anyone breathing this air right now.

What could this ‘acid rain’ be?

One of the primary ways air pollutants are removed from the atmosphere is through rain. When you have significant levels of pollutants in air they will be collected by falling water droplets and “rain out” of the atmosphere.

That’s why we are getting these reports of black rain falling from the sky after the oil depots were struck – evidence of just how contaminated the local air must be.

To me, this black rain indicates toxic pollutants such as hydrocarbons, ultrafine particles known as PM2.5, and carcinogenic compounds called polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons (PAHs) have made their way into the rain.

On top of this there would be a mix of other unknown chemicals, likely including heavy metals and inorganic compounds from the building materials and everything else caught up in the initial explosions and the ensuing fires.

The smoke from the bombed oil depots would also contain sulfur dioxide and nitrogen dioxide, which are precursors to forming sulfuric acid and nitric aid in the air. This acid then makes its way into water droplets, and is responsible for what we conventionally label acid rain.

The acid rain we heard so much about in past decades was primarily caused by sulfur dioxide produced by burning fossil fuels. Sulfur is naturally present in crude oil but is now mostly removed at the refining stage.

Aside from the rain, it’s worth remembering that all smoke is toxic; if you can smell it, it can be at levels that are harming you.

So that level of black smoke seen over densely populated areas in Iran is extremely worrying and can cause chronic short- and long-term health problems.

What are the potential health risks?

In the short term, people exposed to this black smoke in Iran might have headaches or difficulty breathing, especially if they have asthma or lung disease.

Vulnerable populations – such as older people, young children and people with disabilities – are more at risk. Exposure to toxic air pollution during pregnancy can also lead to lower birth weights.

In the longer term, exposure to the compounds in the air and in this black rain is potentially increasing people’s cancer risk. When ultrafine particles (PM2.5) are inhaled, they can get into your bloodstream. This has been linked to a range of health impacts including cancers, neurological conditions (such as cognitive impairment), and various cardiovascular conditions.

Once these heavily polluted plumes of air have their pollutants rained into natural waterways, they can also start to affect aquatic life, as well as human drinking water sources.

Another issue is that this black rain is depositing these compounds on buildings, roads and surfaces, which means they can make their way back into the air when disturbed by strong winds.

A legacy of war

There has been growing attention on the environmental impact of conflict worldwide. Part of this has emerged in the wake of past wars in Iraq and Kuwait, where there was large-scale deconstruction of oil wells and the use of burn pits.

We now know there are long-term health impacts on returning service people, including Australians. So we can assume local populations are also profoundly affected.

In the short term, people exposed to this smoke and black rain in Iran should try to wear masks or face coverings, seek refuge from it, stay indoors, close doors and windows, and try to keep the air out. It is also important to clean hard surfaces where possible, particularly indoors, to reduce exposure to deposited pollutants.

On the ground, of course, this may be very difficult to achieve in the chaos of war.

Gabriel da Silva 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 is the ‘acid rain’ in the wake of US bombings in Iran? An atmospheric scientist explains – https://theconversation.com/what-is-the-acid-rain-in-the-wake-of-us-bombings-in-iran-an-atmospheric-scientist-explains-277849

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Mehmet Ozalp, Professor of Islamic Studies, Head of School, The Centre for Islamic Studies and Civilisation, Charles Sturt University

The death of Iran’s supreme leader, Ali Khamenei, during the holy month of Ramadan marks one of the most consequential turning points in the history of the Islamic Republic of Iran.

His successor, his son Mojtaba Khamenei, represents both continuity and contradiction in the revolutionary system established after the Iranian Revolution in 1979.

At stake is not only who leads Iran, but what the Islamic Republic has become, nearly half a century after the revolution that promised an end to dynastic rule.

Who is Mojtaba Khamenei?

Mojtaba Khamenei is a cleric who has spent most of his career outside public office but close to power, working within the Office of the Supreme Leader. He was often seen as a gatekeeper and powerbroker rather than a public political figure with a formal portfolio.

At 17, he briefly served in the Iran–Iraq war. He only began attracting public attention in the late 1990s, by which time his father’s authority as supreme leader was firmly established.

Over time, his reputation has centred on two key features. The first is a close relationship with Iran’s security establishment, particularly the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), and its hardline networks.

The second is a strong opposition to reformist politics and Western engagement.

Critics have linked him to the suppression of protests following the disputed 2009 presidential election. He is also believed to have wielded influence over Iran’s state broadcasting organisation, giving him indirect control over parts of the country’s information landscape and state narrative.

In 2019, the first Trump administration sanctioned Mojtaba, accusing him of acting in an official capacity on behalf of the supreme leader despite holding no formal government position.

Mojtaba’s legitimacy as leader

Iran’s constitution dictates that the Assembly of Experts (an 88-member clerical body) selects the supreme leader.

The assembly lists the religious, political and leadership qualifications of possible candidates. But in practice, it is not a neutral electoral body. Candidates for the assembly itself are vetted through institutions ultimately shaped by the supreme leader’s orbit, and its deliberations are opaque.

This creates a familiar Iranian scenario – the constitution supplies the choreography, while the security-clerical establishment supplies the music.

That matters when assessing why Mojtaba is seen as a viable supreme leader amid critiques he lacks the senior religious standing traditionally associated with the office.

A mid-ranking cleric, he was only given the title ayatollah in 2022. The title is necessary to become supreme leader, so the promotion signalled he was being groomed to take over from his ageing and ill father.

The revolution’s founding myth was clearly anti-dynastic. After toppling the shah, the revolution’s leaders rejected hereditary rule.

To many Iranians, a son following his father as supreme leader looks like an ideological backslide. The regime appears more like a theocratic monarchy, less the famous “guardianship of the jurist”.

Yet, it is also important to be precise. Mojtaba cannot inherit the position by bloodline alone. The assembly must select him.

Still, political systems can become dynastic without rewriting constitutions. Dynastic outcomes emerge when informal power networks, such as family ties, political patronage, security ties, and control over the media, can make one candidate appear more natural, safe or inevitable.

That has essentially been the Mojtaba story in Iran for years: a man who built influence not by winning elections, but by managing the gate to the most powerful office in the country.

The circumstances of Ali Khamenei’s death add another layer of significance and, ironically, legitimacy to Mojtaba’s ascension.

For many Shi’a Muslims, being killed during Ramadan carries deep symbolic resonance. The first imam of Shi’ism, Ali ibn Abi Talib, was assassinated during the dawn prayer in Ramadan in 661 CE, an event still commemorated each year by Shi’ite Muslims.

Shi’ite historical memory places strong emphasis on martyrdom. In particular, the death of Husayn ibn Ali, a grandson of the Prophet Muhammad, at Karbala in 680 CE, symbolises the struggle between justice and oppression.

Because of this tradition, violent deaths of leaders in the past and today are framed within a broader narrative of sacrifice and resistance.

Iran’s revolutionary ideology has long drawn on these themes. If the state presents Khamenei’s death in this light, it could strengthen a narrative of martyrdom and defiance.

This, in turn, gives his son Mojtaba an aura of religious legitimacy that is very strong in the Shi’ite Muslim psyche.

How different would he be from his father?

This is the most consequential question for Iran. The answer is likely less different than many might expect.

Ali Khamenei was a figure of the revolutionary generation. His authority rested on ideological legitimacy, decades spent amassing and consolidating power, and his ability to arbitrate between competing factions. Over time, he became the system’s final referee.

Mojtaba Khamenei, by contrast, is often portrayed as a product of the security establishment, rather than a public theologian or statesman. He is known less for speeches or religious authority than for his influence and the networks he has built behind-the-scenes coordination.

If that assessment is correct, the shift would be from a leader who balanced institutions to one who may lean more heavily on the might of the IRGC. This would deepen an existing trend toward the securitisation of Iranian politics.

In a period of war and instability, regimes typically prioritise continuity and control. Mojtaba’s appeal to the establishment, therefore, appears to rest on several factors:

• his close ties to the IRGC and intelligence networks
• his long experience inside the supreme leader’s office
• his ideological alignment with hardline positions sceptical of reform and Western engagement.

A figure trusted by the most powerful security institutions also reduces the chance of power struggles or fragmentation at the top.

What might this mean for the war?

A new supreme leader rarely produces an abrupt ideological shift, especially during a military conflict. Continuity is the more likely outcome.

Mojtaba Khamenei’s profile suggests a more security-centred style of leadership with three possible ways forward.

First, domestic control may harden. Given Mojtaba’s reported ties to the security establishment, unrest is more likely to be met with swift repression rather than political accommodation.

Second, the IRGC could expand its influence in regional affairs, given how closely aligned Mojtaba is with the guards.

Third, any negotiations with the West would likely be tactical rather than transformative. They would be framed as a strategic necessity rather than an ideological shift.

And given the fact his father was killed in US-Israeli airstrikes, this will only reinforce a more hardline posture toward both countries.

In short, Iran under Mojtaba Khamenei would likely remain confrontational in rhetoric, but pragmatic when regime survival is at stake.

Mehmet Ozalp is the Executive Director of ISRA Academy

– ref. Who is Mojtaba Khamenei, Iran’s new supreme leader? And would he bring change – or more brutal suppression? – https://theconversation.com/who-is-mojtaba-khamenei-irans-new-supreme-leader-and-would-he-bring-change-or-more-brutal-suppression-277483

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Jennifer Parker, Adjunct Professor, Defence and Security Institute, The University of Western Australia; UNSW Sydney

News that a United States submarine had torpedoed and sunk the Iranian warship IRIS Dena about 40 nautical miles off Sri Lanka this week took many observers by surprise. An attack like this so far from the Persian Gulf – and in a key trade route connecting China to the Middle East – suggests the arena of this war may be widening.

But the incident also highlights something rarely well understood outside military and legal circles: the law of naval warfare.

Many have wondered: was this attack lawful? And who was under an obligation to rescue survivors?

When does the law of naval warfare apply?

The law of naval warfare is a subset of the law of armed conflict.

The law of naval warfare sets out permissions and protections for combatants, civilians and neutral actors engaged in conflict at sea.

Importantly, it applies regardless of whether the resort to force was lawful.

In other words, you’re supposed to follow the law of the sea even if your whole justification for war in the first place isn’t legal under international law.

What’s more, the conduct of operations at sea is regulated by the law of naval warfare whether or not war has been formally declared.

The law of naval warfare also takes precedence over the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (where the two come into tension).

This reflects the principle of lex specialis in international law, meaning the more specific body of law applies.

These rules have developed over centuries as states sought to regulate the conduct of conflict at sea while still allowing navies to operate effectively.

So, was it legal for the US to sink the Iranian warship?

Yes, it was a lawful target.

Under the law of naval warfare, warships belonging to a state engaged in an international armed conflict are military objectives by nature. The rules say they may be lawfully targeted.

Such attacks may occur on the high seas or within the 12 nautical mile territorial waters of the states that are party to the international armed conflict (the belligerents). This means, effectively, that such an attack could happen anywhere outside the 12 nautical mile territorial waters of neutral states.

If the Iranian warship was within Sri Lankan waters (that is, within 12 nautical miles of the Sri Lankan coast) at the time, the attack wouldn’t have been lawful.

But in this case, IRIS Dena was reportedly operating outside Sri Lanka’s territorial waters and therefore constitutes a lawful military target.

What does the law say about rescue of survivors?

The law of naval warfare also sets out obligations regarding the rescue of survivors.

Under the Second Geneva Convention of 1949, parties to a conflict must – after each engagement – take all possible measures to search for and collect the shipwrecked, wounded and sick.

These rules apply to naval warfare and require belligerents, so far as military circumstances permit, to assist survivors at sea.

In practice, however, submarines face particular challenges in fulfilling this obligation. Surfacing to rescue survivors may expose them to significant risk. You also can’t usually fit a large number of survivors on a submarine.

If a submarine cannot safely surface to rescue survivors, it may instead facilitate rescue by reporting their location to other vessels or authorities.

This practice has been noted in some key legal commentary on submarine warfare.

The swift response of the Sri Lankan navy, which rescued 32 sailors from IRIS Dena, suggests authorities were informed quickly of the incident. (Sri Lankan officials say 87 bodies were also retrieved).

How Sri Lankan authorities were informed is not yet clear, but it seems likely the US navy transmitted the location of the survivors.

Given the damage suffered by IRIS Dena and the reported casualties, the ship’s crew was unlikely to have been able to transmit their location themselves.

This may also explain why early reports suggested a submarine had sunk the vessel, before the US confirmed its involvement.

It is also unlikely the crew of IRIS Dena would have immediately known they had been struck by a submarine-launched torpedo. Such a torpedo would typically be fired from very far away, beyond the detection range of a ship’s hull-mounted sonar.

A lawful military target

While debate continues over the legal justification for the United States entering the conflict with Iran, the conduct of hostilities at sea is nonetheless governed by the law of naval warfare.

Under that framework, IRIS Dena therefore constitutes a lawful military target, and efforts to facilitate the rescue of survivors are consistent with those obligations.

Jennifer Parker 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 US sank an Iranian warship and didn’t rescue the survivors. Is this legal in war? – https://theconversation.com/the-us-sank-an-iranian-warship-and-didnt-rescue-the-survivors-is-this-legal-in-war-277606

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Mehmet Ozalp, Professor of Islamic Studies, Head of School, The Centre for Islamic Studies and Civilisation, Charles Sturt University

The death of Iran’s supreme leader, Ali Khamenei, during the holy month of Ramadan marks one of the most consequential turning points in the history of the Islamic Republic of Iran.

His successor, widely expected to be his son Mojtaba Khamenei, represents both continuity and contradiction in the revolutionary system established after the Iranian Revolution in 1979.

At stake is not only who leads Iran, but what the Islamic Republic has become, nearly half a century after the revolution that promised an end to dynastic rule.

Who is Mojtaba Khamenei?

Mojtaba Khamenei is a cleric who has spent most of his career outside public office but close to power, working within the Office of the Supreme Leader. He was often seen as a gatekeeper and powerbroker rather than a public political figure with a formal portfolio.

At 17, he briefly served in the Iran–Iraq war. He only began attracting public attention in the late 1990s, by which time his father’s authority as supreme leader was firmly established.

Over time, his reputation has centred on two key features. The first is a close relationship with Iran’s security establishment, particularly the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), and its hardline networks.

The second is a strong opposition to reformist politics and Western engagement.

Critics have linked him to the suppression of protests following the disputed 2009 presidential election. He is also believed to have wielded influence over Iran’s state broadcasting organisation, giving him indirect control over parts of the country’s information landscape and state narrative.

In 2019, the first Trump administration sanctioned Mojtaba, accusing him of acting in an official capacity on behalf of the supreme leader despite holding no formal government position.

Mojtaba’s legitimacy as leader

Iran’s constitution dictates that the Assembly of Experts (an 88-member clerical body) selects the supreme leader.

The assembly lists the religious, political and leadership qualifications of possible candidates. But in practice, it is not a neutral electoral body. Candidates for the assembly itself are vetted through institutions ultimately shaped by the supreme leader’s orbit, and its deliberations are opaque.

This creates a familiar Iranian scenario – the constitution supplies the choreography, while the security-clerical establishment supplies the music.

That matters when assessing why Mojtaba is seen as a viable supreme leader amid critiques he lacks the senior religious standing traditionally associated with the office.

A mid-ranking cleric, he was only given the title ayatollah in 2022. The title is necessary to become supreme leader, so the promotion signalled he was being groomed to take over from his ageing and ill father.

The revolution’s founding myth was clearly anti-dynastic. After toppling the shah, the revolution’s leaders rejected hereditary rule.

To many Iranians, a son following his father as supreme leader looks like an ideological backslide. The regime appears more like a theocratic monarchy, less the famous “guardianship of the jurist”.

Yet, it is also important to be precise. Mojtaba cannot inherit the position by bloodline alone. The assembly must select him.

Still, political systems can become dynastic without rewriting constitutions. Dynastic outcomes emerge when informal power networks, such as family ties, political patronage, security ties, and control over the media, can make one candidate appear more natural, safe or inevitable.

That has essentially been the Mojtaba story in Iran for years: a man who built influence not by winning elections, but by managing the gate to the most powerful office in the country.

The circumstances of Ali Khamenei’s death add another layer of significance and, ironically, legitimacy to Mojtaba’s ascension.

For many Shi’a Muslims, being killed during Ramadan carries deep symbolic resonance. The first imam of Shi’ism, Ali ibn Abi Talib, was assassinated during the dawn prayer in Ramadan in 661 CE, an event still commemorated each year by Shi’ite Muslims.

Shi’ite historical memory places strong emphasis on martyrdom. In particular, the death of Husayn ibn Ali, a grandson of the Prophet Muhammad, at Karbala in 680 CE, symbolises the struggle between justice and oppression.

Because of this tradition, violent deaths of leaders in the past and today are framed within a broader narrative of sacrifice and resistance.

Iran’s revolutionary ideology has long drawn on these themes. If the state presents Khamenei’s death in this light, it could strengthen a narrative of martyrdom and defiance.

This, in turn, gives his son Mojtaba an aura of religious legitimacy that is very strong in the Shi’ite Muslim psyche.

How different would he be from his father?

This is the most consequential question for Iran. The answer is likely less different than many might expect.

Ali Khamenei was a figure of the revolutionary generation. His authority rested on ideological legitimacy, decades spent amassing and consolidating power, and his ability to arbitrate between competing factions. Over time, he became the system’s final referee.

Mojtaba Khamenei, by contrast, is often portrayed as a product of the security establishment, rather than a public theologian or statesman. He is known less for speeches or religious authority than for his influence and the networks he has built behind-the-scenes coordination.

If that assessment is correct, the shift would be from a leader who balanced institutions to one who may lean more heavily on the might of the IRGC. This would deepen an existing trend toward the securitisation of Iranian politics.

In a period of war and instability, regimes typically prioritise continuity and control. Mojtaba’s appeal to the establishment, therefore, appears to rest on several factors:

• his close ties to the IRGC and intelligence networks
• his long experience inside the supreme leader’s office
• his ideological alignment with hardline positions sceptical of reform and Western engagement.

A figure trusted by the most powerful security institutions also reduces the chance of power struggles or fragmentation at the top.

What might this mean for the war?

A new supreme leader rarely produces an abrupt ideological shift, especially during a military conflict. Continuity is the more likely outcome.

Mojtaba Khamenei’s profile suggests a more security-centred style of leadership with three possible ways forward.

First, domestic control may harden. Given Mojtaba’s reported ties to the security establishment, unrest is more likely to be met with swift repression rather than political accommodation.

Second, the IRGC could expand its influence in regional affairs, given how closely aligned Mojtaba is with the guards.

Third, any negotiations with the West would likely be tactical rather than transformative. They would be framed as a strategic necessity rather than an ideological shift.

And given the fact his father was killed in US-Israeli airstrikes, this will only reinforce a more hardline posture toward both countries.

In short, Iran under Mojtaba Khamenei would likely remain confrontational in rhetoric, but pragmatic when regime survival is at stake.

Mehmet Ozalp is the Executive Director of ISRA Academy

– ref. Who is Mojtaba Khamenei, Iran’s presumed next supreme leader? And would he bring change – or more brutal suppression? – https://theconversation.com/who-is-mojtaba-khamenei-irans-presumed-next-supreme-leader-and-would-he-bring-change-or-more-brutal-suppression-277483

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Sara Meger, Senior Lecturer in International Relations, The University of Melbourne

On International Women’s Day, March 8, we often commemorate the progress women have made across the centuries. Rightly so, as there’s much to celebrate.

But what if the more urgent story is about backlash?

We are researching a troublingly common pathway: how everyday misogyny becomes violent extremism. We’re trying to better understand how gender attitudes influence radicalisation and how we can best prevent it.

Drawing from our soon-to-be-published survey of more than 2,300 adults and 1,100 young people (aged 13–17), our findings suggest misogyny is not a side issue. It may be a driver of extremism.

While public debate often frames extremism through race, religion or nationalism, our research suggests that gender politics may be just as – if not more – central.

Finding the common threads

Though vastly different, extremist movements, such as far-right ethno-nationalists, religious fundamentalists and online “incel” communities, have something in common. The ideological language may differ, but the underlying insistence on women’s “rightful place” in society binds these movements together.

Around the world, there is a growing sentiment that “feminism has gone too far” or that men are now discriminated against. In Australia and other Western countries, this sentiment has risen steadily since 2021.

Online, it’s amplified through what’s been called the “manosphere”: a network of influencers and communities that frame gender equality as a threat.

We are interested in whether this growing sentiment is generating anti-feminist and misogynistic attitudes in Australia, and whether these attitudes form a pathway into violent extremist views.

Our research

In our recent national survey of Australian adults and adolescents, we examined general misogynistic attitudes and support for violent extremism.

We asked whether it is legitimate to use violence to resist feminism. More than 17% of all Australians agree feminism should be resisted with violence. It was the second most supported form of extremist attitude.

Our study included a representative sample of 13–17-year-olds across Australia. The findings are even more confronting among these participants.

We were surprised to learn that 25–30% of boys in this age group expressed agreement with various forms of violent extremism. More than a third (36%) agreed with misogynistic attitudes.

Support for violence to resist feminism was highest among adolescent boys (28%), followed closely by adolescent girls (21%).

Perhaps most alarming: roughly 40% of boys aged 13 to 17 agreed that women lie about domestic and sexual violence.

These results raise crucial questions going forward. We don’t yet know how these views have changed over time, whether they are on the rise and what the links are between violent extremism and the negative treatment of women.

A generation under strain?

Another avenue of enquiry our team is investigating is how the perception of threat to masculine status and lack of belonging can play a role.

Social research has shown boys and men increasingly feel alienated, humiliated or uncertain about their place in the world.

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Read more:
How boys get sucked into the manosphere

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Narratives that reassert male dominance can become psychologically attractive and are being pushed online – often for profit. They blame the plight of men on feminism, immigrants and women at large.

In our research, we differentiate between interpersonal experiences, anchored in close relationships, and intergroup conflict that has generated a sense of “us” versus “them”: men versus women. We then examine how this intergroup social conflict is driving radicalisation.

Online communities validate men and boys’ grievances and offer an “outgroup” to scapegoat and blame – women. At the same time a new “ingroup” is being crafted, coalescing around misogyny, and shaped and led by key figures online.

This new social identity that defines men and boys (and allies) as an ingroup in need of defending may be operating as a gateway to violent extremist ideologies.

The public and the private

One of our study’s most nuanced insights concerns how young people conceptualise violence against women. We found two distinct clusters of attitudes.

Some respondents justified violence in the private sphere. If a woman disobeys in the home, a man should be able to control her with violence.

Others supported abstract restrictions in the public sphere, such as limiting women’s reproductive rights. Some agreed with the sentiment that “sometimes a woman just pushes a man too far”, forcing him to commit acts of violence.

Different types of extremism appeared to align with different clusters. This suggests misogyny is not all the same. It’s expressed in many ways, from intimate coercion to political control.

The intergroup conflict comes to the fore in social and political debates about men and women’s rights and freedoms, and the perception that advances in women’s rights has come at the expense of men’s.

Understanding these distinctions is vital for understanding misogyny and violent extremism in Australia and beyond. Misogyny is not just a “social issue”, but a potential national security concern.

Interrupting the pathway to extremism

By identifying misogyny as a pathway rather than an endpoint, we can think about prevention.

Researchers at the Faculty of Education at the University of Melbourne have developed Resilience, Rights and Respectful Relationships teaching resources.

The approach is guided by research that shows curriculum that promotes social and emotional skills and positive gender norms leads to improved mental and social health, and reduces involvement in bullying and the perpetration of gender-based violence. Such approaches have already had measurable success in Australia.

One question still being investigated by the researchers is what more needs to be done in schools and to support teachers. Given the expansion of online influences, how are programs like this meant to “compete” and how can these efforts be enhanced?

So while International Women’s Day often centres visibility and empowerment, the initial findings from this research alert us to another truth alongside that celebration: progress can provoke backlash.

But the pathway from misogyny to extremism is not inevitable. It’s shaped by social norms, institutional responses and all of us taking action for inclusion, respect, equality and safety.

We can interrupt this pathway. Successfully doing so will help protect and further gender equality into the future.

Sara Meger is the recipient of an Office of National Intelligence National Intelligence Postdoctoral Grant (project number NIPG202412) and funded by the Australian Government.

Kate Reynolds has oversight of projects funded by the National Intelligence Postdoctoral Grant Scheme Round 4 2024: Misogyny, Radicalisation and Young Australians.

– ref. 40% of teenage boys believe women lie about domestic and sexual violence: new research – https://theconversation.com/40-of-teenage-boys-believe-women-lie-about-domestic-and-sexual-violence-new-research-276978

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Oliver Alfred Guidetti, Post Doctoral Researcher, Cybersecurity and Psychology, University of Wollongong

A large release of important documents once meant teams of journalists staying back, working through piles of records late into the night.

Today, it triggers something closer to a public audit. The January 30 publication of more than three million documents related to convicted child sex offender Jeffrey Epstein has mobilised thousands of online users into doing their own digging. They range from massively popular political livestreamers such as Hasan Piker and Dean Withers, to crowdsourced intelligence communities on Reddit.

These netizens are combing through documents, comparing excerpts and trying to piece together what the archive does (and does not) reveal.

Part of the scrutiny comes from the legal framework behind the release. The Epstein Files Transparency Act largely focuses on protecting victims’ identities. However, the US Department of Justice says it also excluded duplicate records, privileged material and other categories during its review.

Whether those additional filters align with the law’s intended limits has itself become part of the story. So people are examining not only the documents that were published, but the gaps around them.

By pooling their time and expertise, online communities can reveal patterns and contradictions that may otherwise go unreported. The same mechanism, however, can flip into something darker.

A file release becomes a public investigation

Massive, legally mandated document releases – such as the millions of pages declassified under the 1992 John F Kennedy Assassination Records Collection Act – are routinely heavily redacted to protect intelligence sources or privacy.

But rather than settling public doubts, visible gaps often act as a catalyst for further suspicion and distrust. This creates the feeling that the public must audit for itself.

When thousands of people scan the same archive, patterns emerge quickly. Duplicate records surface. Chronologies begin to form. And inconsistencies are noticed that might otherwise remain buried.

A prime example was when open-source intelligence communities successfully cross-referenced early releases of the Epstein flight logs with public charity and event schedules. In doing so, they reliably mapped out passenger associations and timelines days before official media could verify them.

But this capacity has limits. The crowd is often better at saying “look here” than “this proves that”. And when victims’ privacy and other people’s reputations are at risk, incorrect inferences can cause lasting harm.

Moreover, our desire for closure in conditions of uncertainty makes us more susceptible to “apophenia” – the tendency to perceive connections between unrelated data points.

From WikiLeaks to the platform era

The Epstein file dump stands in stark contrast to the document releases of the early WikiLeaks era, beginning in 2006.

At that time, interpretation was slower and more journalist-mediated. For massive drops such as the 2010 Cablegate release, WikiLeaks initially partnered with media outlets such The Guardian, The New York Times and Der Spiegel to process the data. (Although they did later publish the full unredacted archive, putting thousands of named individuals at risk).

Journalists reviewed hundreds of thousands of diplomatic cables, redacting sensitive names to protect sources, and providing extensive editorial framing before the public saw the findings.

The infrastructure of the internet operates differently today. Social media algorithms reward outrage, and information travels as screenshots, fragments and threads. Context is easily lost as content moves further away from its source.

Artificial intelligence tools further complicate things by introducing synthetic “evidence” into the public record. A number of AI-generated images, video and audio clips have been debunked since the Epstein files release. One of the most prominent is a viral AI image that claims to show Epstein alive in Israel.

These conditions create risks

Large archives often contain partial names, common names or ambiguous references. When those fragments circulate online, innocent people can become attached to viral claims through little more than coincidence.

For instance, ordinary IT professionals and random citizens whose photos appeared in old FBI photo lineups included in the archive have been falsely accused by online mobs and politicians who assumed anyone listed in the vicinity of the dump was a co-conspirator.

Narrative lock-in is another risk. Once a particular explanation gains momentum, later corrections or clarifications often struggle to travel as far as the original claim.

In one example, a spreadsheet summarising public calls to an FBI tip line went viral, with the false claim that it was Epstein’s official “client list”. Even after journalists clarified the document’s true nature, the initial framing had locked in across social media.

A related phenomenon is information laundering. A claim may begin as speculation in a forum or social media post, but then reappear as something “people are saying” and, over time, can be framed as having been verified.

One example involves “redaction matching”, wherein online sleuths are baselessly asserting that the length of black censor bars on the files perfectly match the character counts of specific politicians’ names.

The Epstein case has also highlighted a different risk: technical mistakes within the release itself. A number of key failures in how the DOJ redacted data has led to victims’ names and details being found out.

A closing lesson

None of this means people should stop asking questions. Public scrutiny is the bedrock of accountability. But scrutiny works best when it follows clear standards. Viral interpretations of files should be treated as starting points for inquiry – not conclusions.

The deeper lesson from the Epstein files is about institutional trust. When institutions fail to resolve serious allegations, judgement does not disappear; it moves outward into the public sphere.

And a public that feels compelled to investigate its own institutions is not merely asking questions about a set of documents. It is signalling that confidence in the official process has eroded.

Oliver Alfred Guidetti 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. Epstein files reveal the power – and peril – of online sleuths doing the government’s work – https://theconversation.com/epstein-files-reveal-the-power-and-peril-of-online-sleuths-doing-the-governments-work-276752

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Nima Shokri, Professor, Applied Engineering, United Nations University

Tehran is moving to restrict – or effectively close – the Strait of Hormuz to shipping, as part of the latest escalation in the war involving Iran.

Markets have reacted to the global impact of closing this incredibly busy shipping channel, focusing on the risk to oil and gas flows, the prospect of higher crude prices and the inflationary pressures that would follow.

That concern is justified. But it captures only part of the story. A sustained disruption of traffic through Hormuz would not simply constitute an energy crisis. It would also represent a fertiliser shock (where prices go up dramatically and supply goes down) – and, by extension, a direct risk to global food security.

Modern agriculture runs not only on sunlight and soil, but on natural gas. When German chemists Fritz Haber and Carl Bosch developed their nitrogen fixation method in the early 20th century, they did more than just manufacture ammonia at scale.

They launched a global chemical revolution that remains a cornerstone of modern civilization and agriculture. Through this process, methane is transformed into ammonia, and ammonia into nitrogen fertilisers such as urea – the most widely used nitrogen fertiliser. Those fertilisers allow crops to reach the yields on which today’s global population depends. Without it, harvests of wheat, maize and rice would fall dramatically.

Around a third of globally traded urea passes through the Strait of Hormuz. The Persian Gulf sits at the centre of this system for two structural reasons. First, it offers access to some of the world’s cheapest natural gas, essential for ammonia production.

Second, over decades, vast capital investments have built ammonia and urea capacity in countries within the region, including Qatar, Saudi Arabia, and the United Arab Emirates. This is aimed at the export market. A significant share of globally traded nitrogen fertiliser – and the liquefied natural gas (LNG) that powers fertiliser plants elsewhere – must therefore travel through the Strait of Hormuz. A closure of the strait would threaten not only oil and gas exports but also the physical flow of nitrogen-based fertilisers and what is needed to make them.

The immediate effect would be delays to shipments of ammonia, urea and LNG. They could be stopped completely or become prohibitively expensive through higher freight and insurance costs. But the deeper impact would unfold in the months ahead at farms around the world.

In the northern hemisphere, fertiliser purchases accelerate before planting seasons. A delay of weeks can be disruptive; a disruption of months can make a huge difference. If shipments fail to arrive on time, farmers face difficult choices such as how to pay sharply higher prices, reduce application rates, or alter crop mixes. Because of how crops respond, even modest reductions in nitrogen use can produce disproportionately large declines in yield. That could translate into millions of tonnes of lost crops. The consequences would ripple through global supply chains into feed markets, livestock production, biofuels and ultimately retail food prices.

Do countries not have their own supplies?

Some countries have supplies of fertilisers, but self-sufficiency is rarer than it appears. India, for instance, relies heavily on LNG imports from the Persian Gulf to run its domestic urea plants. Brazil depends substantially on imported nitrogeon and phosphate fertilisers to sustain soybean and maize production.

Even the United States, one of the world’s largest fertiliser producers, imports meaningful volumes of ammonia and urea to help meet regional demand and reduce prices. In sub-Saharan Africa, use of fertiliser is already low. A further rise in prices is likely to reduce use even more, cutting yields and increasing food insecurity.

The system’s fragility extends beyond nitrogen. Sulphur – as an essential nutrient for plant growth – is largely a byproduct of oil and gas processing. If energy shipments through Hormuz are disrupted, sulphur output falls alongside fuel exports. So, the shock would not only reduce fertiliser shipments but also restrict ways to produce them elsewhere.

Meanwhile, the production of synthetic nitrogen tightly coupled to energy markets because it is manufactured continuously from natural gas. A disruption in gas supply or ammonia trade immediately constrains global nitrogen availability. Estimates suggest that without synthetic nitrogen, the world could feed only a fraction of its current population. The Strait of Hormuz therefore sits at the intersection of energy and food security.

Changing where fertiliser is produced cannot happen overnight. Financing and constructing new ammonia plants takes years. A double-digit contraction in exports from a key region cannot be swiftly offset. In the interim, prices would rise, trade flows would re-route and planting decisions would be made under uncertainty. Food price inflation, historically correlated with social unrest, could intensify.

Central banks, focused primarily on fuel-driven inflation, could underestimate the contribution of fertiliser scarcity to prices overall. Crucially, fertiliser shocks do not register with the same immediacy as oil shocks. Petrol prices change overnight. Crop yields reveal themselves months later. Yet the latter may prove more destabilising.

Controls and closure of this narrow maritime chokepoint would reshape the cost-of-living well beyond the Persian Gulf.

If the 20th century taught policymakers to fear oil embargoes, the 21st should teach them to fear a fertiliser shock. Energy markets can absorb shocks through reserves and substitution. But the global food system has far thinner buffers. A prolonged disruption at Hormuz would not simply reprice crude; it would test the resilience of the industrial nitrogen cycle on which modern civilisation depends.

Oil powers cars. Nitrogen powers crops. If the Strait of Hormuz closes, the most consequential price may not be Brent crude but the cost of feeding the world.

Nima Shokri is affiliated with Hamburg University of Technology.

Salome M. S. Shokri-Kuehni 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. How the Iran war could create a ‘fertiliser shock’ – an often ignored global risk to food prices and farming – https://theconversation.com/how-the-iran-war-could-create-a-fertiliser-shock-an-often-ignored-global-risk-to-food-prices-and-farming-277552

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Jared Mondschein, Director of Research, US Studies Centre, University of Sydney

US President Donald Trump has summed up his rationale for attacking Iran fairly simply, saying “this was our last best chance to strike”.

Not known for adhering to any particular lasting strategy, Trump sees each day in the White House as an episode in a reality show in which he seeks an advantage over his rivals, if not to vanquish them. And Iran certainly qualifies as one of America’s most enduring rivals.

To be sure, Trump’s claim that Iran posed an imminent threat to the US is hard to justify. After all, Iran’s military and proxy groups have never been weaker.

It’s also hard for him to claim that Venezuela or Islamic State operatives in Nigeria, Syria and Iraq posed imminent threats to the US. Nonetheless, the Trump administration struck all of them over the past year.

As much as Trump may have campaigned against nation-building and “forever wars” when running for president, he certainly never campaigned against military strikes, particularly ones that entail minimal danger to American lives.

Trump campaigned in 2016 on strengthening the US fight against Islamic State. And once in office, his administration not only helped eliminate the IS caliphate – finishing the job started under the Obama administration – but also killed IS leader Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi.

The first Trump administration was also behind the assassination of Iranian commander Qassem Soleimani in a brazen attack near Baghdad airport.

It is likely for this reason his administration decided to go for the death blow now, when the Iranian government is at its most vulnerable.

There were also specific circumstances that have made Trump more open to limited military actions in the past:

• long-lasting, bipartisan frustration with an adversary
• the support of regional US allies and partners for a strike (or at least their toleration)
• US capability to mitigate potential responses.

And there was another undeniable factor: the increasing confidence that comes from the perceived success of previous actions. Many expected the Trump administration’s capture of Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro to result in chaos, for instance, but that has yet to happen.

Decades of antagonism

This is undoubtedly a war of choice, not necessity. That said, the Trump administration is likely hoping the US can be less involved in the Middle East after this war, if it results in a different Iran.

The sentiment that fuels Trump’s antagonism towards NATO allies is the same that is motivating his war against Iran: the US wants to do less overseas.

Such a statement may appear ironic given the administration has undertaken America’s largest military attack since the invasion of Iraq 23 years ago. But this is presumably the administration’s end game with Iran, risky as it may be.

Half a century ago, Iran was second only to Israel among Middle Eastern countries with close working relationships with the United States. The post-1979 Islamic Republic, however, upended the region’s power dynamics. Iran’s top foreign policy priorities for decades have been projecting hostility towards the United States and Israel.

In that time, Democratic and Republican administrations alike have labelled Iran the world’s foremost state sponsor of terrorism.

For years, Iran has proudly supported Hamas in Gaza, Hezbollah in Lebanon, the Houthi rebels in Yemen, Bashar al-Assad’s regime in Syria, and Shia militant groups in Iraq. Such groups have killed hundreds of Americans and tens of thousands of others across the Middle East. Iranian agents also sought to assassinate Trump and other senior US officials.

Iran and its proxy groups have cost successive American administrations – both Democratic and Republican – enormous political capital and resources for decades.

It should also be said the vast majority of Iranians are against the regime and have never felt more optimistic about a brighter future since the Islamic Revolution in 1979.

Limiting factors moving forward

US Defence Secretary Pete Hegseth has tried to distinguish the Iran war from the “forever wars” of the past, saying, “This is not Iraq, this is not endless”.

The administration is likely aware of other key differences, too.

Compared to George W. Bush’s war against Iraq in 2003, Trump has lacklustre support for the Iran strikes.

Democratic lawmakers have called the attack both unconstitutional and against international law.

Only 55% of Republicans support the attack, despite the fact Trump himself enjoys an approval rating among members of his party of around 80%.

The Trump administration hasn’t helped itself with its incoherent messaging, either. It has used a number of justifications for the strikes, including stopping an imminent Iranian attack, destroying Iran’s ballistic missiles, preventing it from acquiring nuclear weapons, cutting off support for its proxy militant groups, and regime change.

Most recently, the administration said it had to join Israel’s offensive against Iran because it was going to be drawn in by Iran’s response anyway. And Trump refused to rule out boots on the ground in Iran.

These conflicting messages don’t help sell the operation to a wary public, particularly one that is far more concerned about the economy than the Middle East. After all, the last time a foreign policy issue played a significant factor in a US election was arguably more than 20 years ago.

So, why engage in such an expensive and risky endeavour that even his own base doesn’t fully support?

One reason is the US constitution allows the president to do a lot more to change the dynamics on the ground in Iran than it does in the United States. The judicial branch, for instance, has limited Trump’s “Liberation Day” tariffs and deployment of federal troops domestically. Foreign policy is one area where he can be a man of decisive action.

But Trump knows a long war is not feasible. The US, Israel and their regional allies and partners face the real prospect of running low on munitions to continue defending against Iran’s far cheaper drones for the weeks or months that Trump says the war may continue.

The Islamic Republic of Iran is also facing an existential battle for its survival. The regime’s will to fight and ruthlessly effective internal security forces – combined with low US domestic support for war – means time may be on its side.

Facing increasing levels of domestic opposition, we can expect the Trump administration to try to avoid a long-term conflict in Iran. As history shows, however, it still needs an exit strategy.

Jared Mondschein 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. Donald Trump campaigned against ‘endless wars’. So why is he risking another one in Iran? – https://theconversation.com/donald-trump-campaigned-against-endless-wars-so-why-is-he-risking-another-one-in-iran-277370

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Mark Edele, Hansen Professor in History, The University of Melbourne

Four years ago, Vladimir Putin escalated his war against Ukraine to an all-out assault. The plan was for a quick and lively campaign and a speedy takeover of a country the Russian president thought shouldn’t exist.

Victory would reassert Russia’s status and hasten a shift from a unipolar to a multipolar world; instead of one great power (the United States), we’d have several. Russia would, of course, become one of the “greats”.

So, how’d that go?

Four years on, Russia has not found itself among fellow great powers willing to divide up the globe.

A middle power despite its great power cravings, Russia has instead been forced into a growing dependence on China while having to deal with a multitude of hostile middle powers, which often thwart its ambitions.

A greater failure is hard to imagine.

Careful what you wish for

In recent days, Russia had to watch on helplessly as the US and Israel – following Russia’s playbook – ignored international law and attacked Iran, a close Russian ally.

When Iran’s foreign minister asked his Russian counterpart for help, Sergei Lavrov sounded more like a European politician than an advocate for a new world order.

He condemned the “unprovoked act of armed aggression […] in direct violation of the fundamental principles and norms of international law”. He called for a “peaceful solution based in international law, mutual respect and a balanced consideration of interests”.

As The Guardian put it, Russia has found out a

rejection of the old rules of geopolitics have not necessarily played into its favour.

Russia underestimated the extent to which the old order gave it room to manoeuvre. Then, as long as others played by the rules, breaking them could give Russia a tactical advantage.

But once others also opted for raw power, the limits of Russia’s abilities became obvious.

Reality checks

The first reality check came on the battlefield.

Russia lost the battle of Kyiv, had to retreat from much of what it had occupied in the north of Ukraine, and was forced into a grinding war of attrition in the east.

Ukraine lost big swathes of territory in the south, which allowed Russia to establish a land bridge between Donbas and Crimea (which it illegally occupied in 2014).

But Ukraine’s government retained control of 80% of its territory. It also held onto its use of the Black Sea, a vital link to world markets.

Unable to advance meaningfully on the ground, Russia tried a criminal air war targeting civilian infrastructure, hoping to freeze Ukraine into submission.

Such tactics rarely work, but do cause untold misery and suffering for civilians.

Meanwhile, Ukraine is fending off Russia’s attempt to enforce Ukraine’s capitulation at the negotiating table.

Being a great power isn’t cheap

All Russia’s efforts are complicated by the emerging multipolar world order it had so desperately hoped to conjure into being.

Ukraine has been supported by a coalition of middle powers that are slowly finding their feet in this new reality.

Russia has discovered the hard way that its geopolitical fantasy of being a great power in this new multipolar world order comes with one tiny problem: it can’t afford it.

Its population is both declining and ageing. Its GDP (adjusted to purchasing power) is in the same ballpark as that of Japan or Germany (rather than the much larger India, to say nothing of the US or China).

And its economy is dominated by hydrocarbon exports destined for a bleak future in a quickly decarbonising world.

As one of the most consequential middle powers of the Euro-Asian landmass, with a permanent seat on the UN Security Council, and a sizeable military armed with nuclear weapons, it could cause significant damage trying to assert its desired great power status.

But the results were opposite to intentions.

From bad to worse

Unable to subdue Ukraine, Russia’s power projection suffered elsewhere. Its once-close relationship with Israel is on the rocks. It lost its foothold in Syria and has proved unable to support its allies in Iran and Venezuela.

In a lawless international order, it is too inconsequential to dictate the play.

While US President Donald Trump at times treats Putin as an equal, nobody else does.

True, China has celebrated a “no-limits partnership” with Russia, its biggest neighbour.

But it neither took clear sides in Russia’s Ukraine war, nor sent weapons. Instead, Beijing used Russia’s isolation to cement a relationship in which it clearly has the upper hand.

India increased its purchase of Russian oil (now at a steep discount) and continued to buy Russian weapons, but as part of a multi-vector geopolitical strategy.

Rather than a fellow great power, India saw Russia as an opportunity to be exploited in its ongoing quest for an autonomous foreign policy.

Fantasy and reality

Ukraine, meanwhile, lost the clear support from the US it had enjoyed at the start of the war, but has been supported financially and militarily by a flexible coalition of middle powers.

According to the latest data, the nearly US$75 billion (A$105 billion) in military aid the US has provided since the start of the war has amounted to only 30% of the total tally.

The remaining 70%, and all ongoing military support in the past 12 months, came from middle and smaller powers, led by Germany (20%), the United Kingdom (9%), Norway (8%) and Sweden (7%).

Thus, Russia’s war on Ukraine did hasten the emergence of a multipolar world.

It just wasn’t the one Russia had in mind.

Mark Edele receives funding from the Australian Research Council.

– ref. Russia wanted a new world order. This wasn’t the one it had in mind – https://theconversation.com/russia-wanted-a-new-world-order-this-wasnt-the-one-it-had-in-mind-277195

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Matt Fitzpatrick, Professor in International History, Flinders University

The latest US-Israeli bombings in Iran differ from last year’s, because one of the stated aims this time is regime change.

Engaged in the mass murder of civilians at home and fomenting violence abroad, the current Iranian regime has few friends internationally.

Many would be glad to see Iran undergo a far-reaching program of political reform. For many in the Iranian diaspora, regime change imposed from outside is better than none.

But the historical record of imposed regime change, particularly as undertaken by the United States, is patchy at best.

Things rarely go to plan, and the long-term consequences are often disastrous.

Afghanistan and Iraq

Some immediate examples spring to mind.

Still fresh in the public mind would be the shocking scenes of desperate Afghans trying to leave Kabul in 2021 as the United States conceded it could not permanently defeat the Taliban.

This admission came after two decades, thousands of deaths of US and allied troops and tens of thousands of Afghan deaths.

Many would also remember then-US President George W. Bush’s disastrous speech in May 2003 about America’s regime change efforts in Iraq, begun in March that year. Here, Bush addressed the press while standing in front of a huge banner that said “Mission Accomplished”; the implication was regime change had been achieved in just a few months.

In fact, what followed was another decade of US fighting to try to stabilise Iraq, with actions arguably not wound up until 2018 or even beyond.

Once again this came at a huge cost to civilian lives, with The Lancet estimating as early as 2004 that around 100,000 “excess deaths” had occurred as a result of the US attempt to effect regime change there.

Thereafter, Iraq was continuously wracked by violence and civil war. Notably, ISIS took advantage of its weakened state to establish its “caliphate” on Iraqi territory, leading to yet another wave of US intervention.

But US attempts to impose regime change have a much longer and equally unsuccessful history, as well.

From the Bay of Pigs to Iran

The phrase “Bay of Pigs” has become a synonym for the inability to overthrow a government.

Aimed at overthrowing Fidel Castro in Cuba in April 1961, not only was then-US President John F. Kennedy’s foray into regime change unsuccessful (Castro died in his sleep with his regime still in control of Cuba at the age of 90 in 2016), it also led to the execution of CIA operatives there.

The US also faced the embarrassment of having to swap tractors for the freedom of the Cuban exiles who had carried out the failed invasion for them.

In 1953, the US and Britain actually did succeed in overthrowing Iranian Prime Minister Mohammad Mossadeq after he’d announced Iran’s oil industry would be nationalised in response to Western oil companies’ intransigence on royalties and control.

This regime change effort by the US did “succeed” in the short run, but it led to a series of events that culminated in the repressive regime the US aims to replace today.

Mossadeq’s toppling led to the shah of Iran, Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, becoming an absolutist monarch in the cruellest tradition.

His savage repression led in no small way to the 1979 Iranian revolution, which became the vehicle for the present theocratic government to come to power.

It is one of the ironies of history that the son of the dictatorial shah is now presenting himself as the logical candidate to bring democracy to a new Iran.

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From the colonial era to WWII

Some might reach further back and argue regime change in Germany worked after the second world war.

It is worth remembering, however, that this was far from a simple process. It involved occupying Germany for more than a generation, decades of trials against ex-Nazis and splitting the country in two for more than 40 years.

As the epicentre of the Cold War, this is hardly an experiment in regime change that could be easily replicated.

Earlier examples of regime change from the colonial period provide similar lessons.

Large armies of invading colonial forces were able to pull down governments in Africa and Asia and prop up unpopular ones.

But once the occupying forces sought to remove their militaries or lost the will to resort to massacres to reinforce their rule, the shift towards decolonisation or self-rule became increasingly irresistible.

In the Dutch East Indies, French-ruled Vietnam, British India and the Belgian Congo, governments imposed by external powers were rarely viable once the threat of force was removed.

Czechoslovakia’s Prague Spring protests in 1968 – an effort to throw off Soviet-imposed rule – were quickly crushed by the USSR, showing once again that regime change “works” for as long as you are prepared to enforce it with violence.

By 1989, however, the Soviet Union’s appetite for enforcing its hegemony across eastern Europe had waned, leading to a largely peaceful transition to democracy across the region.

A failure to learn from history

Today’s US leaders are unlikely to accept the counsel of history.

But they would do well to remember the simple message of former US Secretary of State Colin Powell’s “Pottery Barn” rule for attempts to overthrow governments: you break it, you own it.

At present, however, the view from Washington seems to be that you can just break states and hope someone else will fix it for you.

Matt Fitzpatrick receives funding from the Australian Research Council He is currently president of the History Council of South Australia.

– ref. Does regime change ever work? History tells us long-term consequences are often disastrous – https://theconversation.com/does-regime-change-ever-work-history-tells-us-long-term-consequences-are-often-disastrous-277221