Category: The Conversation – Global Perspectives

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Olivia Maurice, PhD, Cognitive Neuroscience, Western Sydney University; University of Sydney

From live speech translation in video calls to auto-dubbing on TikTok, the technology to dissolve language barriers has arrived. Real-time translation powered by artificial intelligence (AI) is now embedded in everyday life.

Tools from OpenAI, Meta, Google and many others now offer near-instant translation across dozens of languages, and they keep improving.

All this raises a vital question. If machines can do this faster and more accurately than humans, is investing years in learning another language still worth it?

The logic is appealing. Humans have always offloaded cognitive work onto tools. Writing reduced demands on our memory. Calculators removed the burden of mental arithmetic. AI sits within this long tradition. Used well, it can support learning and expand access in ways that matter enormously.

But there’s a difference between using a tool to extend your capabilities and using it to avoid doing something altogether. That distinction becomes important when you are not just replacing a skill, but a form of cognitive and cultural engagement.

The effort is the point

Effort plays a central role in how we acquire knowledge.

Psychologists use the phrase “desirable difficulties” to describe challenges that may feel inefficient, but produce stronger long-term retention and understanding.

Struggling with grammar, searching for the right word, or constructing meaning across multiple languages engages brain networks that support memory, attention and cognitive flexibility. Over time, they consolidate knowledge far more deeply than passive exposure.

Sustained mental engagement contributes to what researchers call cognitive resilience – the brain’s capacity to maintain function as we age. Managing multiple languages is one form of this engagement. It requires the brain to resolve competition, monitor context and adapt dynamically.

These are not trivial demands. And they’re difficult to achieve if you just use translation tools passively, such as resolving the meaning of a foreign phrase with the click of a button.

What multilingualism research actually shows

The evidence on multilingualism is often presented as a simple “bilingual advantage”, a shorthand that obscures a more complicated picture. Some studies report benefits for attention or working memory, while others find no differences. The truth appears to be more selective.

Our recent study examined cognitive performance in 94 adults aged 18 to 83, using both visuospatial and auditory tasks across working memory, attention and inhibition. Put simply, we looked at how people process and respond to information they see or mentally map out in space (visuospatial) and information they hear (auditory). Examples include remembering sounds, focusing on visual patterns, or ignoring distractions.

Our study measured multilingualism as a spectrum, not a category. This allowed us to capture diverse language backgrounds and experiences. Multilingual participants spoke a range of languages with varying levels of proficiency and daily use, reflecting the linguistic diversity common within multicultural communities.

Across most tasks, multilinguals and monolinguals performed similarly. However, one pattern was striking. Individuals with richer, more diverse multilingual experience showed markedly better performance in visuospatial working memory. These effects were most pronounced in older people.

This suggests that multilingual experience doesn’t broadly enhance cognition, like some headlines claim. Instead, it may help preserve specific functions over time.

Separate population-level research has also linked multilingualism to later onset of Alzheimer’s disease and better overall ageing outcomes, though the mechanisms continue to be debated.

Overall, however, it appears that sustained use of multiple languages represents a form of mental activity with effects that accumulate across a lifetime.

What AI translation can’t replicate

AI translation excels at speed and accessibility. For many practical purposes, it works remarkably well. But it operates through pattern recognition, not lived understanding. It can struggle with cultural context, humour, register and emotionally embedded meaning, especially for languages with less representation in training data.

At best, AI captures literal dimensions of language while missing social ones. Consider the scene in the 2003 film Love Actually where Jamie, played by Colin Firth, delivers an awkward but sincere proposal to Aurelia in broken Portuguese.

It is moving because of the effort, vulnerability and intent his imperfect words carry. Resort to real-time translation software and what remains is information, not expression.

This is the deeper distinction: translation is not the same as participation. Learning a language involves understanding how people think, their values, and how meaning is shaped by context and history. This cultural literacy develops through interaction and experience. We can’t fully outsource that to systems that translate on demand.

The multilingual participants in our research spoke to this directly:

I definitely think in Telugu, but I remember numbers and count using English.

Afrikaans is the language of my heart and best used to express intense emotion. English is the language of business and used mostly in everyday life.

These are not descriptions of switching between translation modes. They are descriptions of inhabiting different selves.

AI will continue to change how we engage with language learning. It can personalise instruction, minimise barriers and provide feedback at scale. What it can’t do is replace the cognitive and cultural work that comes from learning a language. This work leads to a deeper relationship with how other people see the world, and with how you express yourself. And that difference still matters.

Olivia Maurice completed her PhD at the MARCS Institute, Western Sydney University.

Mark Antoniou receives funding from the Australian Research Council.

– ref. If AI can translate instantly, why learn another language? – https://theconversation.com/if-ai-can-translate-instantly-why-learn-another-language-280310

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Kai He, Professor of International Relations, Griffith University

US President Donald Trump’s visit to Beijing this week may ease tensions at the margins of the US–China rivalry. But it will not change a central fact: neither side can escape the rivalry, and neither side can decisively win it.

The biggest challenge for Trump and Chinese leader Xi Jinping is whether they can compete without turning the world’s most consequential bilateral relationship into its most dangerous one. A war is not inevitable.

If Washington and Beijing want to keep their competition peaceful, they must try to accomplish a few basic things:

• preserve military deterrence without turning it into provocation

• channel their rivalry into institutions and public goods, such as infrastructure development, rather than a military confrontation

• keep ideology from hardening every disagreement into a zero-sum struggle.

So, how can this be done?

1. Establish mutual restraint

Both countries will continue to build military capabilities and balance against each other. The danger comes when each side convinces itself that its actions are intended to deter hostilities, while the other interprets them as a provocation.

Nowhere is that danger greater than the impasse over Taiwan. For Beijing, Taiwan is a core sovereignty issue and a test of national resolve. For Washington, it is tied to US credibility as a security guarantor in the Indo-Pacific, regional stability, and its ability to deter coercive unification.

Both sides claim to be defending the status quo. Both believe the other is eroding it. And both are acting in ways that may be making the situation less stable.

The answer is not a unilateral concession by one side or the other. Rather, both sides need to establish mutual restraint, backed by clearer political reassurance.

For instance, China could reduce the scale and frequency of coercive military actions around Taiwan, such as military aircraft sorties, naval patrols and drone operations near the island. And the US could avoid steps that blur the line between support for Taiwan and support for formal independence.

Trust may be absent. But trust is not a precondition for stability. Clarity and restraint are.

This requires a serious framework for deterrence management, including:

• sustained efforts to clarify red lines

• reducing misperceptions about each other’s intentions and resolve

• preventing competitive signalling from spiralling into a confrontation.

During the Cold War, Washington and Moscow eventually learned that an arms race without guardrails was too dangerous to sustain. Washington and Beijing have not yet reached that level of strategic maturity. They need to.

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Read more:
Trump-Xi summit will be no ‘Nixon in China’ moment – that they are talking is enough for now

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2. Compete in safer arenas

Rivalries can be channelled into forms that are less dangerous than military conflict, and can sometimes even be productive.

That is already happening. The United States and China are competing through global institutions and alignments, from the Quad and AUKUS (on the US side) to the BRICS and the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation (on China’s side).

Both are trying to shape the rules, memberships and agendas of the regional and global orders in ways that advance their own influence and constrain the other’s.

On the surface, this can look like just another front in a new cold war. But institutional competition can be one of the safer forms of rivalry.

Competition can force institutions to adapt rather than stagnate. It can encourage new forms of regional cooperation. It can also push rival powers to provide public goods – such as infrastructure, development financing, technological investments and climate initiatives – in order to win support from others.

In infrastructure financing, for instance, China has used the Belt and Road Initiative and the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank to expand its reach globally. The US and its partners have responded with initiatives of their own.

The competition between the two has been beneficial – and it has expanded the options available to developing countries.

This is also why a rush toward broad economic decoupling would be such a mistake. Some restrictions in sensitive sectors may be unavoidable. But a sweeping effort to sever economic ties would remove one of the few remaining guardrails in the relationship.

As long as the United States and China remain economically intertwined, both sides are incentivised to maintain stability and avoid conflict.

3. Lower the temperature

The US and China are not simply clashing over interests. They also have very different political and historical narratives.

US policymakers often cast the rivalry as a defence of the liberal order against authoritarian revisionism. Chinese leaders often see it as a struggle against containment, humiliation and foreign interference.

These are not just different rhetorical narratives. They shape what each side sees as threatening, acceptable or beyond compromise. They also help explain why the relationship has become so emotionally and politically charged.

Ideological competition is safest when it remains indirect. Neither Washington nor Beijing is likely to convert the other to its way of thinking. And neither is likely to persuade the wider world through their lectures on ideology.

The sounder strategy is to compete by example.

For the United States, it means showing that democratic governance can still deliver competence, cohesion and long-term economic vitality. For China, it means showing that its model can bring growth, social stability and international cooperation.

Both sides also need to recognise that ideological overreach is dangerous. The more Washington frames competition as a global struggle between democracy and autocracy, the more it encourages Beijing to see compromise as capitulation.

And the more Beijing wraps its foreign policy in narratives of anti-hegemony, the more likely Washington is to see its own restraint as weakness.

Engagement still matters for the same reason. If the United States and China stop talking, this ideological competition will harden and become more dangerous.

The greatest danger in the US–China competition is that both sides will come to see restraint as weakness, compromise as surrender and coexistence as impossible. Once that happens, catastrophe becomes far more likely.

The most realistic goal is not friendship, or even reconciliation. It is something harder and more modest: competition without war.

Kai He receives funding from the Australian Research Council and the Toda Peace Institute, an independent institute in Japan promoting policy-oriented peace research. He serves as a non-resident senior research fellow at the Toda Peace Institute.

Huiyun Feng receives funding from Australia Research Council.

– ref. Trump-Xi summit: 3 ways the US and China can compete without going to war – https://theconversation.com/trump-xi-summit-3-ways-the-us-and-china-can-compete-without-going-to-war-281328

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Daniela de Angeli Dutra, Lecturer in Zoology, Bangor University

Gold prices are at an all-time high, and we are very worried. As disease ecologists, it’s not the economic instability that concerns us, but the fact that a surge in gold mining could have a devastating impact on human health.

Our team of researchers from Stanford University, Universidade Federal de Mato Grosso, and Universidade Federal de Minas Gerais, Brazil, established and quantified the effects of illegal gold mining on a recent surge in malaria in the Yanomami territory in the Brazilian Amazon that plunged this isolated Indigenous population into a devastating health crisis in the early 2020s.

An executive push towards extraction

When Jair Bolsonaro became Brazil’s president in 2019, he made environmental deregulation a central tenet of his platform, claiming that environmental and Indigenous land protections hindered the country’s economic development. He also transferred the authority of Indigenous land demarcation from the National Indigenous Foundation (FUNAI) to the Agriculture Ministry.

Furthermore, he issued decrees aimed at deregulating small-scale mining activities in the Amazon region. The decrees made no distinction between regulated (therefore, legal) mining outside of Indigenous territory and mining within Indigenous land, which is universally illegal. Illegal miners flooded the Yanomami territory.

By January 2023, when Lula da Silva secured the Presidency as Bolsonaro successor, the number of illegal gold miners in Yanomami territory — the largest Indigenous territory in the Amazon — had surged to 20,000, roughly two-thirds the number of the local Yanomami population.

Malaria and the Yanomami health crisis

Weeks after Lula da Silva took office, independent news outlet Sumaúma released a dispatch citing shocking disease and malnutrition figures among the Yanomami. Threaded with images of suffering Yanomami people, the report motivated the president to declare a humanitarian crisis.

Dr. Andre Siqueira, a researcher from the Oswaldo Cruz research institute (Fiocruz) and a member of the team of doctors sent into the territory upon declaration of the crisis recounted: “The conditions of the population were devastating.” Nearly every person they tested was positive for malaria.

Even small increases in mining can cause a surge in malaria cases

The Sumaúma dispatch, and the Instituto Sociaombiental report upon which it was based, linked the influx of illegal gold miners during the Bolsonaro administration to the Yanomami health crisis and the proliferation of malaria.

As researchers who focus on how trends in land use contribute to the spread of parasites, we suspected that gold mining and malaria were not separate contributors to the same crisis, but part of one system of cause and effect devastating the territory and its people.

Illegal gold mining can drive malaria in multiple ways. First, when miners tear down forests and open gashes along the edges of rivers to access gold deposits, they create the ideal breeding grounds for the mosquito species that transmits malaria in the Amazon.

Second, when miners travel to the territory, potentially from malaria hotspots across South America, they can carry the parasite into the territory and increase its transmission.

Finally, small-scale gold miners often use mercury to cheaply and easily extract gold particles. This mercury is dumped into waterways across the region, poisoning the people who rely on the rivers for water and for fish, weakening their immune systems and making them more susceptible to malaria infection.

Thorough data on health and environmental conditions in the Amazon collected by the Brazilian Ministry of Health enabled us not only to confidently establish the link Indigenous people had long suspected, but to assign numbers to the relationship, making it concrete and actionable.

We were shocked by the results. The relationship was far stronger than we suspected. We found that every 0.03% increase in mining led to a 20-46% increase in malaria one to two years later, resulting in a 300% increase in malaria in the Yanomami territory between 2016-2023.

Understanding the association between gold mining and malaria underpinning the Yanomami health crisis is only one part of the puzzle. We hope that this research can serve as a tool to empower Indigenous communities with information about their health and inform policies that protect both human health and the environment. Our data indicates that by preventing illegal mining within Indigenous lands can protect their health and other important natural and cultural heritage.

Improving healthcare access

The Lula government is engaging in important efforts to expel illegal gold miners and establish health centers in the Yanomami territory. Though hospitalizations for malaria have decreased slightly since 2023, malaria rates among Yanomami remain high due to the lagged effect we identified in our research and the difficulty of access to timely diagnoses and treatment in remote regions.

Researchers are making strides to close this accessibility gap. An international team has developed “malakits”, which empower community members without formal medical training to diagnose and treat malaria on site. Such efforts are of critical importance given that the lagged effects of illegal gold mining will continue to cause elevated malaria incidence unless communities have broad access to treatment.

It is also important to ensure full land rights of Indigenous populations and empower them to defend their land. This is proven to be one of the most effective ways to fight deforestation and protect ecosystems.

Addressing the malaria crisis requires diversifying the rural Amazonian economy with an eye toward sustainability, such that people have options beyond mining and logging. Brazil is making strides toward this goal with the recent launch of a national bioeconomy development plan.

Informed consumers can prioritize purchasing recycled gold or refrain from purchasing gold at all to send a signal that further illegal gold extraction is not worth the human toll. As with the Blood Diamonds campaign in the early 2000s, real change can come from spreading the word about the human and environmental cost of illegal mining and demanding ethical supply chains.

Appeals to protect the Amazon region are often made on environmental terms. We want to make the case that saving the people in Amazon is also a global health imperative. Protecting the forest, investing in Indigenous land rights, fostering healthy economic opportunities for rural communities, and interrogating the role of gold in our global economy are all part of preventing the continued spread of one of the world’s deadliest infectious diseases.

Daniela de Angeli Dutra was funded by a grant from the National Institutes of Health (USA) awarded to Professor Erin Mordecai.

Riley Casagrande não presta consultoria, trabalha, possui ações ou recebe financiamento de qualquer empresa ou organização que poderia se beneficiar com a publicação deste artigo e não revelou nenhum vínculo relevante além de seu cargo acadêmico.

– ref. Illegal gold mining causes surges in malaria in the Amazon, and the association is far worse than we suspected – https://theconversation.com/illegal-gold-mining-causes-surges-in-malaria-in-the-amazon-and-the-association-is-far-worse-than-we-suspected-280568

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Dominik Koll, Honorary Lecturer, Nuclear Physics, Australian National University

When you think of outer space, you’re likely picturing stars, planets and moons. But much of space is filled with clouds of gas, plasma and stardust – known as interstellar clouds.

In the local parts of our galaxy alone there’s a complex of roughly 15 individual interstellar clouds. The Solar System is currently traversing one of them, aptly named the Local Interstellar Cloud. The origin and history of these clouds are believed to be tightly connected to the birth and death of stars. But we can see their imprints right here on Earth, in a place you might not expect – Antarctic ice.

My colleagues and I have been studying stardust trapped in old Antarctic snow and ice to trace the history of our solar neighbourhood, including the Solar System itself.

In a new study published in Physical Review Letters, we found a subtle clue that reveals our Solar System’s movement through the local interstellar environment over the past 80,000 years.

Looking down to see the sky

Astronomy usually looks outward. Telescopes collect light from distant stars and galaxies, allowing us to observe events across vast stretches of space and time. From these observations, we infer how stars live and die, how elements are formed, and how the universe evolves.

Our approach turns that idea on its head.

Instead of observing the light coming to us, we study the debris of exploding stars right here on Earth. As cosmic furnaces, stars forge many elements in their cores, from carbon and oxygen to calcium and iron. This includes rare isotopes (variants of chemical elements) such as iron-60.

When massive stars explode into supernovae at the end of their life, these elements are ejected into space and become interstellar dust.

Tiny grains of this dust then drift through the galaxy and occasionally find their way to Earth’s surface. Radioactive iron-60, a fingerprint of stellar explosions, is embedded within these grains. By searching for these atoms in geological archives on Earth, we can probe astrophysical events like supernovae long after their light has faded.

This is why Antarctica is so valuable. Its snow accumulates slowly and remains largely undisturbed, forming a layered record that stretches back tens of thousands of years. Each layer captures a snapshot of the material that was present in our cosmic neighbourhood at the time.

Finding stardust in Antarctic ice

When we studied 500kg of recent snow in Antarctica, we unexpectedly found this rare radioactive isotope. Where did it come from? There was no recent near-Earth supernova.

But our solar neighbourhood is filled with 15 clouds, with the Solar System currently traversing at least one of them. Is the stardust waiting in the clouds to be picked up by Earth? If yes, then the amount of stardust Earth collects should be related to their structure: the denser the clouds, the more iron-60 they contain. This was our educated guess in 2019.

Soon, other explanations were brought forward. Millions of years ago Earth received large showers of iron-60 from massive supernovae. Is the iron-60 in Antarctic snow the last remnant or an echo of this signal? A rain that became a drizzle?

To find out, we analysed a 300kg section of Antarctic ice, dating from 40,000 to 80,000 years ago. The process is painstaking. The ice needs to be melted and chemically treated to isolate tiny amounts of iron, including the iron-60 from the stardust.

Then, using the sensitive atom counting technique of accelerator mass spectrometry at the Heavy-Ion Accelerator Facility at Australian National University, we counted individual atoms of iron-60.

The expectation was straightforward: based on previous measurements from surface snow of Antarctica and several thousand-year-old ocean sediments, we anticipated a certain steady level of iron-60 deposition.

Instead, we found less. Not zero, but noticeably lower than expected.

This result suggests that less interstellar dust was reaching Earth during that period. This is a remarkable change on a comparatively short astrophysical timescale and does not fit the long timescales of the iron-60 deposits that landed here millions of years ago. Instead, we needed to look for a smaller, more local source for the isotope.

A fitting story

Naturally, astronomers are also quite interested in the clouds around the Solar System. Last year, a study reconstructing the history of the clouds arrived at the conclusion that they most likely originated in a stellar explosion. Furthermore, they found the Solar System has been traversing the Local Interstellar Cloud from sometime between 40,000 and 124,000 years ago.

If that’s correct, we would expect that the amount of iron-60 collected on Earth should have changed sometime in the same time period – between 40,000 and 124,000 years ago.

This is exactly what our results showed in Antarctica.

The story doesn’t fit perfectly, though. If these clouds did originate directly from an exploding star, we would expect way more iron-60 than we actually see in Antarctic ice.

Nevertheless, these clouds are imprinted in Earth’s geological record. If we look deeper and analyse even older ice, we might soon unravel the mystery of these local interstellar clouds, revealing their full history and uncertain origins.

Dominik Koll receives funding from the Australian Institute of Nuclear Science and Engineering (AINSE).

– ref. Stardust trapped in Antarctic ice reveals tens of thousands of years of Solar System’s past – https://theconversation.com/stardust-trapped-in-antarctic-ice-reveals-tens-of-thousands-of-years-of-solar-systems-past-279745

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Paul Formosa, Professor and Head of the Department of Philosophy, and Co-Director of the Macquire University Ethics & Agency Research Centre, Macquarie University

Jimmy Donaldson, better known as MrBeast, runs the most subscribed-to YouTube channel in the world (with 484 million subscribers) and has an estimated net worth of US$2.6 billion.

He is also a prominent philanthropist. Beyond his involvement in fundraising initiatives such as #TeamTrees, which claims to have planted more than 24 million trees worldwide, Donaldson runs a dedicated Beast Philanthropy YouTube channel.

He claims 100% of profits from this channel’s ad revenue, merch sales and sponsorships go towards helping others. This has included paying for 1,000 cataract surgeries, constructing a medical clinic for children rescued from slavery, and building 100 wells to provide clean water in Africa.

These impressive philanthropic endeavours have dramatically improved the lives of their recipients. How could any of this be controversial?

The murky ethics of ‘stunt philanthropy’

Many of Donaldson’s videos involve subjecting people to what might be seen as degrading or exploitative situations, in exchange for money.

In Donaldson’s “Ages 1 – 100 Decide Who Wins $250,000” video, contestants (including young children) are put in an intense competitive structure and forced to eliminate one another. We see a grown man help to intentionally eliminate an 11-year-old girl, which leads to her sobbing on camera.

In another video, he tells a random group of shoppers they will win US$250,000 if they are the last to leave the store. Under pressure to stay, they are kept from their families and forced to endure poor living conditions, with some experiencing emotional breakdowns.

These videos have been labelled by various critics as “poverty porn”, as they could be seen as exploiting the desperation of vulnerable people to generate clicks and ad revenue.

The Beast Games reality series, which airs on Prime Video, is also built around challenges designed to provoke contestants into backstabbing one another, experiencing emotional distress, and revealing depressing stories about how badly they need the money.

Allegations against Donaldson also extend to behind the scenes, particularly in regards to the culture of work in his companies.

In 2024, several contestants who took part in Beast Games filed a lawsuit against Donaldson’s MrB2024 and other companies involved in the production. They allege they were subject to “chronic mistreatment”, including the infliction of emotional distress, inadequate food and rest breaks, delays in receiving medication, exposure to dangerous conditions, and a failure to prevent sexual harassment.

More recently, a former Beast Industries employee sued two of Donaldson’s production companies after suffering alleged sexual harassment and gender bias at work.

You can’t morally offset exploitation of people

When it comes to assessing the ethics of Donaldson’s work, one option is to take a simple “consequentialist” perspective. Act consequentialism is the view that the right action is the one which leads to the most amount of good.

If a few people suffer exploitative conditions so many more people can enjoy life-saving surgery, then the moral calculus is likely to come out in favour of this situation. Of course, there are longstanding philosophical worries with such a view.

The 18th century philosopher Immanuel Kant argued it is wrong to use others as tools to achieve our own ends, even if our ends are morally admirable. Treating some people as mere means right now can’t be morally justified by promising to help others later on.

According to Kant, one’s motives for helping others are also important, and the moral worth of an action is determined by these motives. So helping others out of a sense of duty has a moral worth that doing the same act out of self-interest does not.

Is Donaldson’s philanthropy motivated by duty and care for others, or by clicks, esteem and ad-revenue? Or perhaps both?

We can’t know the answer. Although, Kant himself did believe all humans are likely to be morally corrupt at the very root of their character.

Consent and power

Irrespective of Donaldson’s motives, a broader point remains: his philanthropic videos are an integral part of his overall brand. The philanthropy helps to make the other, more exploitative videos (and the significant revenues they generate) more “morally palatable”.

After all, Donaldson could simply give his money away. He doesn’t need to make people compete, scheme and suffer for it.

One might counter that the participants have consented to being involved. But when you offer people in economically vulnerable situations potentially life-changing amounts of money to endure degrading conditions, the “voluntariness” becomes contestable.

This is not what ethicists consider “informed consent”. The offer can be so large that it clouds judgement. And for people without genuine alternatives, saying “no” may not be a realistic option.

The fact that Donaldson sometimes subjects himself to similar treatment, such as when he buried himself alive for seven days, deepens rather than lessens the worry, given the power asymmetries at play. He owns the production company, controls the conditions, and profits from the content in ways other participants do not.

The underlying structural concerns

When political problems, such as poverty, or a lack of access to healthcare or clean water, are reduced to entertainment, they undergo a form of what scholars call “depoliticisation”. Political failures that demand collective action, institutional reform and democratic deliberation instead become fodder for entertainment.

If we think we can help solve these problems just by watching viral videos, then we can avoid facing the structural issues that underpin them.

Paul Formosa has received funding from the Australian Research Council, and Meta (Facebook)

– ref. ‘Poverty porn’: the moral dilemma behind MrBeast’s billion-dollar empire – https://theconversation.com/poverty-porn-the-moral-dilemma-behind-mrbeasts-billion-dollar-empire-282050

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Thomas White, Associate Professor, School of Life and Environmental Sciences, University of Sydney

You’re cooking dinner, distracted, and your hand brushes a hot pan. Nerve signals race to your spinal cord and back to yank your arm away in a fraction of a second, with no thought required.

Then comes the pain. A sharp, spreading sting gives way to a pulsing ache, and you cradle your hand and run it under cold water until it subsides. That felt experience is distinct from the reflex that preceded it. While the reflex moved your body out of danger, pain drives you to protect the wound, recover, and learn to avoid similar mistakes in the future.

We readily accept that other people feel pain by reading cues in their behaviour, like the inspection and nursing of an injury. We extend this to some animals too – a dog licking its paw or a cat favouring a limb rightly stir our sympathies. But what happens when we turn that lens on animals far less like us?

In our new study, published in Proceedings of the Royal Society B, we searched for behavioural signs of pain in house crickets, one of the most widely farmed insects. After applying heat to an antenna, we found that crickets didn’t just reflexively flinch and recover. They nursed the harm, returning again and again to groom the affected site, much as we rub a burned hand.

The frontiers of feeling

French philosopher René Descartes considered animals unfeeling biological machines, and for centuries the circle of moral concern barely extended beyond our own species.

But the boundaries have steadily crept outward. Recognition that mammals experience pain came first, followed by birds. Fish too, once assumed to lack the necessary brain structures, are now widely accepted as capable of pain-like states.

The leap into invertebrates has been greater and more contentious. Their nervous systems bear little resemblance to our own, so arguments from brain anatomy alone don’t carry us far. Instead, we look to behaviour. Does the animal respond to harm in ways that go beyond reflex, ways that are flexible, persistent, and sensitive to context?

Over the past decade, testable indicators for pain in non-humans have been developed and are increasingly accepted. These include learning from unpleasant events, trading off harms against rewards, and actively protecting the site of injury. Evidence meeting these criteria helped crabs and lobsters gain legal recognition as sentient under United Kingdom law in 2022.

Among insects, the evidence has been accumulating fast. Yet most of this evidence comes from bees. Bumblebees weigh the risk of harm against the richness of a food reward, and groom the site of an injury. Honeybees learn to associate particular smells with harmful stimuli and avoid them.

Far less attention has been paid to Orthoptera, the group that includes grasshoppers, locusts and crickets. That gap matters, because the house cricket (Acheta domesticus) is the world’s most widely farmed insect, with more than 370 billion reared annually.

Do crickets feel pain?

We tested 40 male and 40 female crickets, each experiencing three conditions in random order: a hot probe to a single antenna (65°C, to activate damage receptors but not cause lasting injury), the same probe unheated, or no contact at all.

We filmed their behaviour for ten minutes. Observers scoring the footage did not know which treatment any animal had received.

The results were clear. After the hot probe, crickets were more than twice as likely to groom the affected antenna compared to controls, and spent roughly four times longer doing so.

Could this simply reflect general disturbance rather than targeted care? Unlikely: grooming was directed specifically at the heated side, not spread evenly across both antennae as it was after gentle touch or no contact.

And the behaviour wasn’t a brief, reflexive reaction. It was elevated from the outset and tapered gradually over minutes, much like rubbing a burned hand as the felt sting slowly fades.

Small minds, big feelings

Subjective experience cannot be directly observed in any animal, not even humans.

But we have shown crickets respond to harm in a way that satisfies a key criterion many scientists and philosophers use to infer pain: flexible, directed self-protection. Combined with the knowledge that crickets possess damage receptors, can learn to avoid harms, and respond less to injury under morphine, the weight of evidence for an inner life is growing.

The practical stakes are real. Hundreds of billions of farmed insects are slaughtered each year by freezing, boiling and baking. Pesticides kill trillions more, optimised for lethality with no consideration of potential suffering.

If we take a precautionary approach, credible evidence of suffering should motivate proportionate protections well before we are certain.

Insects have been around for more than 400 million years and are far more behaviourally and cognitively sophisticated than once assumed. The question, then, may not be whether some insects feel, but why we ever assumed they couldn’t.

Thomas White receives funding from The Australian Research Council, the Arthropoda Foundation, and The Australia and Pacific Science Foundation. He is a scientific advisor for the registered charity Invertebrates Australia.

Kate Lynch receives funding from the Australian Research Council, the Arthropoda Foundation, and the Australia & Pacific Science Foundatio. She has previously received funding fromand the John Templeton Foundation.

– ref. 370 billion crickets are farmed for food every year. Scientists have discovered they may feel pain – https://theconversation.com/370-billion-crickets-are-farmed-for-food-every-year-scientists-have-discovered-they-may-feel-pain-279855

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Deborah Shnookal, Research fellow, Department of Spanish and Latin American Studies, The University of Melbourne

For months, US President Donald Trump has been fixated on Cuba. He’s issued threats and imposed additional sanctions on the island. The US military has conducted dozens of intelligence-gathering flights off the coast in recent weeks, suggesting a prelude to an invasion.

The Cuban government has indicated a readiness to negotiate with the Trump administration on some issues, such as migration, drug trafficking and investment openings for Cuban-Americans. But Cuba’s sovereignty is not negotiable.

After interviewing Cuban President Miguel Díaz-Canel last month, US journalist Kristen Welker seemed to catch on:

Nothing gets under [Cubans’] skin more than the notion that the United States can tell the Cuban government who should lead it or what it should be doing, how it should be governing, because that challenges the very idea of the sovereignty of the country.

This US obsession with controlling, influencing and coercing Cuba long predates Trump and even the Cold War. This is how President Theodore Roosevelt described the island in 1906:

I am so angry with that infernal little Cuban republic that I would like to wipe its people off the face of the earth. All we have wanted from them was that they would behave themselves and be prosperous and happy so that we would not have to interfere. And now, lo and behold, they have started an utterly unjustifiable and pointless revolution.

Understanding the current impasse between the two adversarial neighbours requires looking at this full arc of history. While the 1823 Monroe Doctrine sought to establish US predominance in the entire American continent, Cuba has always been a particular focus of Washington’s attention.

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Read more:
Cuba has survived 66 years of US-led embargoes. Will Trump’s blockade break it now?

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‘Americanisation’ of the island

From the moment the 13 American colonies declared independence from Britain, Americans assumed Cuba would become part of the union. Successive US administrations sought to purchase, annex or otherwise control Cuba, claiming this was inevitable by virtue of the laws of gravity and geography. It was also seen as part of a self-proclaimed “civilising mission”.

When the Cubans eventually defeated their Spanish colonial masters in 1898, the United States stepped in and occupied the island to thwart its independence.

At the time, at least one third of Cubans were former slaves or of mixed race. The US governor of Cuba, Leonard Wood, argued they were not ready for self-government.

Certainly, the US – especially the Southern former slave holders – didn’t want another Haiti in its neighbourhood. Haitian slaves had seized control of their island nation from the French in a violent rebellion in 1804, echoing the cries of the French revolution for liberty, fraternity and equality.

The US military occupation of Cuba ended in 1902 and Cuba formally declared independence – albeit with provisions. These allowed for future US intervention whenever Washington thought the Cuban people needed a guiding hand (which turned out to be fairly often).

In the decades that followed, US business interests deeply penetrated every sector of Cuba’s economy and had complete sway over Cuban governments.

On a cultural level, Cuba rapidly became “Americanised” through a new US-style education system. Travel to the island picked up, too. The popular Terry’s Guide to Cuba reassured US visitors in the 1920s they would feel right at home because “thousands [of Cubans] act, think, talk and look like Americans”.

Castro’s mission

All of this changed with the rise of Fidel Castro.

During the Cuban Revolution, Castro announced in April 1959 that the revolutionary government would be “Cubanising Cuba”. This might seem “paradoxical”, he explained, but Cubans “undervalued” everything Cuban. They had become “imbued with a type of complex of self-doubt” in the face of the overwhelming US influence on the island’s culture, politics and economy.

US journalist Elizabeth Sutherland similarly observed at the time that Cubans suffered from a “cultural inferiority complex typical of colonised peoples”.

For North Americans, however, Castro’s blunt statement seemed at best to reflect ingratitude, and at worst, an insult. As the US broadcaster Walter Cronkite recalled:

The rise of Fidel Castro in Cuba was a terrible shock to the American people. This brought communism practically to our shores. Cuba was a resort land for Americans […] we considered it part of the United States.

At the heart of Cuba’s revolutionary project has been an assertion of Cuba’s sovereignty, independence and national identity. The drive has been to create a new, united and socially just Cuban nation, as envisioned by its great national hero and poet, José Martí.

So, for Cubans it’s a matter of history. For North Americans, it’s a matter of self-image. They had “convinced themselves,” writes historian Louis A. Pérez, of the “beneficent purpose […] from which [the US] derived the moral authority to presume power over Cuba”.

When the Obama administration finally resumed relations with Cuba in 2014, it felt like a historic shift was taking place. The US might finally respect Cuban sovereignty and engage with Cuba on equal terms.

As President Barack Obama said at the time:

It does not serve America’s interests, or the Cuban people, to try to push Cuba toward collapse. […] We can never erase the history between us, but we believe that you should be empowered to live with dignity and self-determination.

Trump has now reverted to Washington’s traditional neo-colonialist view of Cuba, proclaiming he can do what he likes with the island. Perhaps it is time to try a new approach. As the spectacular debacle of the US-backed Bay of Pigs invasion showed 65 years ago, Cubans remain ready to defend their independence and their right to determine their own future.

Deborah Shnookal 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 is the US so obsessed with controlling Cuba? – https://theconversation.com/why-is-the-us-so-obsessed-with-controlling-cuba-280729

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Rhys Parry, Research Fellow, Virology, The University of Queensland

For many people, news of a virus outbreak on a cruise ship immediately brings back memories of COVID spreading when the Ruby Princess docked in Sydney in March 2020. Of the passengers and crew who disembarked, 575 had COVID. The virus then spread to the community.

So it’s understandable people are concerned that passengers from the MV Hondius need to be quarantined after potential exposure to Andes virus, a rodent-borne hantavirus.

However, the comparison with COVID only goes so far. Andes virus is serious and authorities are right to respond cautiously. But experts, including from the World Health Organization, note it doesn’t have the characteristics needed to become “the next COVID”.

As of May 11, European health authorities have reported nine cases linked to the cruise ship, including seven confirmed and two probable cases. Three deaths have been reported.

Five Australians and one New Zealander are being repatriated to Australia for quarantine and monitoring. The passengers will initially quarantine at the Centre for National Resilience near RAAF Base Pearce in Western Australia.

Here’s what you need to know about Andes virus, the risk of transmission, and how it’s different to the virus that caused COVID.

How do hantaviruses spread?

Hantaviruses are a group of viruses usually carried by mice, rats and other rodents. People are most commonly infected after inhaling tiny particles of contaminated rodent urine, droppings or saliva.

Most hantaviruses are not known to spread between people. Andes virus is the exception. After the initial spillover from infected rodents, it is the only hantavirus with well-documented person-to-person transmission.

But that doesn’t mean it spreads easily between people. Further human-to-human spread is uncommon, but it can occur in close-contact settings such as households, among caregivers, during intimate contact, or after prolonged exposure in crowded or poorly ventilated indoor areas.

That is very different from SARS-CoV-2, the virus that causes COVID. SARS-CoV-2 spreads very efficiently through the air. People could infect others before they even realised they were sick.

Early estimates suggested each person infected with SARS-CoV-2 passed the virus to roughly two or more others, on average, in populations who had never encountered it before.

Andes virus can cause onward human-to-human transmission, but requires a perfect storm of conditions: symptomatic people in crowded, poorly ventilated spaces with close contact over time. This was the case on the MV Hondius.

This difference in transmission potential is why SARS-CoV-2 caused a pandemic and Andes virus has only produced contained outbreaks.

What are the symptoms of Andes virus?

Early symptoms of Andes virus infection can look like many other illnesses, including fever, headache, muscle aches, nausea and fatigue.

In some people, infection can progress to hantavirus pulmonary syndrome, a life-threatening condition in which breathing becomes difficult.

How long after contact can you get symptoms?

The WHO recommends people exposed to Andes virus monitor for symptoms for 42 days after their last potential exposure.

This reflects the outer limit of the time between infection and symptom onset. It doesn’t mean people are infectious for 42 days.

Australian authorities have announced the returning passengers will initially spend three weeks in quarantine, with further monitoring arrangements to follow.

Melbourne’s Doherty Institute will undertake the testing using polymerase chain reaction (PCR), which detects the virus’s genetic material and blood-based antibody testing, known as serology.

A negative test early after exposure is useful, but not always definitive. If the virus is still incubating, there may not yet be enough viral genetic material or antibody response to detect.

How does the virus progress?

The long incubation period reflects how Andes virus progresses, compared to SARS-CoV-2.

COVID symptoms typically appear within days because the virus replicates rapidly in the respiratory system.

Andes virus progresses differently. Severe disease is linked to blood-vessel dysfunction and inflammatory responses. The breathing problems associated with the complication hantavirus pulmonary syndrome aren’t caused by the virus directly destroying lung tissue, but by the immune system’s delayed response. This causes fluid to leak into the lungs and makes breathing difficult.

How deadly is it?

Fatality rates vary significantly between hantavirus species.

European and Asian hantaviruses typically cause death in less than 1–15% of cases, while hantavirus pulmonary syndrome from American strains, including Andes virus, can reach up to 50%.

For context, in 2025, eight countries across the Americas reported 229 hantavirus cases and 59 deaths. These are severe infections, but they remain rare events.

A virus doesn’t become a pandemic simply because it’s deadly.

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Read more:
Hantavirus: here’s what you need to know about the infection that killed Gene Hackman’s wife, Betsy Arakawa

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Can Andes virus be treated?

There is no specific antiviral drug for Andes virus. Health care for infected people focuses on close monitoring, supporting their breathing and managing complications to the heart and kidneys.

There is no licensed vaccine to prevent Andes virus.

However, there is also good news in how quickly the scientific response has come together after this outbreak started. Swiss laboratories collaborated quickly to sequence the complete genetic code of the virus from one patient and made it publicly available within days.

This gave researchers around the world a reference to compare other cases against. This can support faster confirmation of suspected cases, while helping public health teams identify which cases are linked to the outbreak and who needs monitoring or isolation.

Bottom line

The instinct to see another COVID in every viral outbreak is understandable but, in this case, misleading.

The Andes virus is dangerous to those infected, but it isn’t a good candidate for pandemic spread. It incubates slowly, typically spreads through close contact, and transmission appears most efficient when people are symptomatic.

It’s important to get the Andes virus under control but it’s not a pandemic threat like COVID.

Rhys Parry receives funding from the Australian Research Council (ARC) and the National Health and Medical Research Council (NHMRC).

– ref. Hantavirus is very different to COVID. Here’s why the ‘Andes virus’ won’t cause the next pandemic – https://theconversation.com/hantavirus-is-very-different-to-covid-heres-why-the-andes-virus-wont-cause-the-next-pandemic-282595

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Julien Cooper, Lecturer, Department of History and Archaeology, Macquarie University

We have been on a years-long campaign of satellite remote sensing of the vast desert landscapes in Eastern Sudan.

This involved using satellite aerial imagery to systematically and painstakingly search for archaeological features in Atbai Desert of Eastern Sudan, a small part of the much larger Sahara.

Our team – which includes archaeologists from Macquarie University, France’s HiSoMA research unit, and the Polish Academy of Sciences – wanted to tell the story of this desert region between the Nile and the Red Sea, without having to excavate.

One mysterious archaeological feature stood out. We kept finding large, circular mass graves filled with the bones of people and animals, often carefully arranged around a key person at the centre.

Likely built around the fourth and third millennia BCE, all these “enclosure burial” monuments have a large round enclosure wall, some up to 80 metres in diameter, with humans and their cattle, sheep and goats buried inside.

Our new research, published in the journal African Archaeological Review, reveals how we found 260 previously unknown enclosure burials east of the Nile River, across almost 1,000km of desert.

Who built them?

Already known from a few excavated examples in the Egyptian and Sudanese deserts, these large circular burial monuments have long puzzled scholars.

What seemed once isolated examples emerge now as a consistent pattern. It is suggestive of a common nomadic culture stretching across a vast stretch of desert.

Most are within the borders of modern Sudan on the slopes of the Red Sea Hills. Unfortunately, satellite imagery alone cannot communicate the whole story of these enclosure burial builders.

The carbon dates and pottery from the few excavated monuments tell us these people lived roughly 4000–3000 BCE, just before Egyptians formed a territorial kingdom we know of as Pharaonic Egypt.

But these “enclosure burial” nomads had little to do with urbane and farming Egyptians.

Living in the desert and raising herds, these were Saharan desert nomads through and through.

A new elite?

Some enclosures show “secondary” burials arranged around a “primary” burial of a person at the centre – perhaps a chief or other important member of the community.

For archaeologists, this is important data for discerning class and hierarchy in prehistoric societies.

The question of when Saharan nomads became less egalitarian has plagued archaeologists for decades, but most agree it was around this time of the fourth millennium BCE that a distinctive “elite” class emerged.

This is still a far cry from the sort of huge divisions between ruler and ruled as seen in societies such as Egypt, with its pharaohs and farmers. However, it ushers in the first traces of inequality.

Animals held in high esteem

Cattle seem very important to these prehistoric nomads (a theory also supported by ancient local rock art in the area).

Burying themselves alongside their herd, these nomads show they held their animals in esteem.

Thousands of years later, local nomads chose to reuse these now “ancient” enclosures for their burial plots – sometimes almost 4,000 years after they were first built.

In other words, the prehistoric nomads created cemetery spaces that lasted for millennia.

What happened to these people?

No one can say for sure.

The few dates we have for these monuments cluster between 4000–3000 BCE, nearing the end of a period when the once-greener Sahara was drying, a phase scientists call the “African Humid Period”.

From north to south, the summer monsoon gradually retreated, reducing rainfall and shrinking pastures. This led nomads to abandon thirsty cattle, increase the mobility of their herds, migrate to the south or flee to the Nile.

The monuments are overwhelmingly located near what were then favourable watering spots; near rocky pools in valley floors, lakebeds and ephemeral rivers.

This tells us that when the monuments were being built, the desert was already quite challenging and dry.

At some point, as grass and bush made way for sand and rocks, keeping their prized cattle became unsustainable.

Having large herds of cattle in this desert, at this period, may have been a way of showing off an expensive and rare possession – a prehistoric nomad’s equivalent to having a Ferrari. This may help explain why cattle were frequently buried alongside their owners in enclosure burial monuments.

A bigger story

These enclosure burials are only one part of the greater story of human adaptation to climate change across North Africa.

From the Central Sahara, to Kenya and Arabia, keeping cattle, goats and sheep transformed societies. It changed the food they ate, the way they moved around, and community hierarchies.

It’s no coincidence communities changed how they buried their dead at the same time as they adopted herding lifestyles.

These burial enclosures tell us even scattered nomads were extremely well-organised people, and expert adapters.

Our discovery reshapes the story of the Sahara deserts and the prehistory of the Nile.

They provide a prologue for the monumentalism of the kingdoms of Egypt and Nubia, and an image of this region as more than pharaohs, pyramids and temples.

Sadly, many of these enclosure monuments are currently being destroyed or vandalised as a result of unregulated mining in the region. These unique burials have survived for millennia, but can disappear in less than a week.

Maria Gatto (Polish Academy of Sciences) was an author on our paper. We also want to acknowledge Alexander Carter, Tung Cheung, Kahn Emerson, Jessica Larkin, Stuart Hamilton and Ethan Simpson from Macquarie University for their contribution. We are also grateful to the National Corporation of Antiquities and Museums (Sudan).

Julien Cooper receives funding from the Australian Research Council, (Future Fellowship, FT230100067).

Maël Crépy receives funding from the CNRS (HiSoMA) and the Ifao (NOMADES research program).

Marie Bourgeois receives funding from Ifao (NOMADES research program).

– ref. We found hundreds of huge ancient mass graves hidden in the Sahara desert – https://theconversation.com/we-found-hundreds-of-huge-ancient-mass-graves-hidden-in-the-sahara-desert-281978

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Tanya Latty, Associate Professor in Entomology, University of Sydney

Imagine trying to build a house without a blueprint, find a shortcut through an unfamiliar city without a map, or govern a large organisation with no leaders and no meetings.

It sounds impossible. Yet tiny-brained ants, working without leaders or blueprints, have been solving problems like these for millions of years – and no, the queen isn’t the boss telling them what to do.

By almost any measure, ants are a wildly successful group of animals – there’s an estimated 20 quadrillion of them on Earth and they thrive on every continent but Antarctica.

How have these minuscule animals managed to take over the world (and our kitchens)? The answer is teamwork.

Bustling colonies

Ants are social animals that live in colonies ranging from a few individuals to vast continent-spanning supercolonies containing billions of ants.

Bustling ant colonies display many of the features we associate with human societies, including:

• transportation networks
• collective care of the young
• food systems (including agriculture in some species)
• health care for injured nestmates.

In humans, this level of social complexity usually involves clear governance hierarchies, with leaders and middle managers directing our activities.

But ants don’t work that way. So who is in charge in an ant colony?

The answer is simple: no one.

The queen isn’t in charge

Ant colonies are a classic example of a self-organised system, where complex behaviour emerges from the combined actions of many ants. Each follow relatively simple rules while communicating and interacting with each other.

The human brain works in a similar way: individual neurons have simple behaviours and cannot think on their own, but together they give rise to the full range of human thought and behaviour.

The queen, whom many people assume is in charge, has little involvement in decision-making or leadership.

Instead, her role is to maintain the colony’s workforce by producing new ants.

In some ant species, workers will even kill their queens under particular conditions, such as declining productivity!

By working together, ant colonies are capable of complex behaviours and problem-solving skills far exceeding the abilities of an individual ant.

For example, some ant species run sophisticated transportation networks linking their colony to many food sources.

When a foraging worker finds a good source of food, such as some crumbs in your kitchen, she lays down drops of attractive chemicals called “pheromones” as she walks home.

Other ants in the colony are attracted to the trail, reinforcing it with more pheromones as they go. As a result, the colony can rapidly deploy large numbers of workers to quickly collect food.

While an individual ant is only aware of the foods she herself has visited, the trail network allows the colony as a whole to be “aware” of many foods.

Should a food source disappear or decline in quality, the colony can quickly refocus its efforts.

Ants can also optimise their trail networks by finding shortcuts.

Since pheromone trails evaporate over time, shorter paths that are traversed more quickly get reinforced more often. Longer paths, by contrast, receive less traffic and get reinforced less often, which in turn causes the pheromone trail to fade and become less attractive.

This simple feedback loop allows the colony to “discover” shorter routes that take less time to traverse while eliminating longer routes.

The resulting transportation network can be remarkably efficient.

Remarkable architects

Nest construction is another impressive example of the power of self-organisation.

Ant nests can be vast and intricately structured, with chambers for raising the young, food storage, and waste.

Yet no ant has a blueprint for the final nest design, nor is a boss ant in charge of directing construction activities.

Instead, ants use simple rules to create their remarkable nest architecture.

For example, in the black garden ant Lasius niger, nest building ants excavate soil and form it into small pellets.

These pellets carry chemical cues making other ants more likely to deposit their own pellets nearby.

Over time, this leads to the formation of structures such as pillars, walls, and eventually roofs, without any ant understanding the overall design.

This process, where individuals respond to cues left behind by other individuals, is called “stigmergy” and it underpins the construction of other insect-built structures such as termite mounds and honeycomb.

More humans, more problems – but not so for ants

The use of simple behavioural rules enables ants to coordinate remarkably effectively as a group.

In a study where groups were tasked with moving a T-shaped object through a tight space, human performance did not improve with group size.

When participants were instructed not to speak, performance actually declined as groups got bigger.

Similarly, it has long been known that as human group size increases, the performance of individual team members tends to decrease, a phenomenon known as the Ringelmann effect.

Ants, by contrast, showed the opposite pattern: as group size increased, their performance actually improved.

So next time you see a line of ants marching around your house, resist the urge to spray or whack them away.

Instead, take a moment to appreciate these tiny masters of teamwork.

Tanya Latty co-founded and volunteers for conservation organisation Invertebrates Australia, is former president of the Australasian Society for the Study of Animal Behaviour and is on the Education committee for the Australian Entomological Society. She receives funding from the Australian Research Council, NSW Saving our Species, and Agrifutures Australia.

– ref. In an ant colony, the queen isn’t in charge. So who is? – https://theconversation.com/in-an-ant-colony-the-queen-isnt-in-charge-so-who-is-278196