There are three numbers Australians should walk away from the last twenty four hours of Senate estimates remembering.
Every twenty years, give or take, the British Left rediscovers the wealth tax. They rediscover it with the bright-eyed conviction of a Labrador rediscovering a tennis ball under the sofa, and with roughly the same level of new information.
There is a certain quality of light that falls across the western plains in late autumn, a light my father used to call "the bachelor's hour" because it found you alone whether you wanted to be or not.
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When we talk about climate funding, the conversation often gravitates towards infrastructure, food security, and disaster management. These are, of course, vital areas. But there’s a glaring omission in the way climate finance is being distributed, particularly in countries on the front line of climate change like Bangladesh: research and knowledge management remain woefully underfunded.
There’s a certain American ritual that repeats itself every spring: the Social Security Trustees release their annual report, and the numbers, once again, are worse than we hoped.
A major controversy has erupted within the New South Wales education sector, centering on allegations of improper conduct by senior officials at School Infrastructure NSW (SINSW).
Let’s talk about wealth taxes. Not because we want to—discussing fiscal policy is about as fun as watching a C-SPAN marathon on ketamine—but because a gaggle of economists with PowerPoints
Oh, Australia, you vast, sun-scorched paradox of a nation. The Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) has dropped its latest quarterly report card, and it’s a mixed bag of economic lethargy and glimmers of resilience, like a kangaroo hopping through quicksand. The March 2025 quarter, as dissected in the ABS’s “9 facts about the economy,” paints a picture of a country trudging along at a glacial 0.2% GDP growth, while the rest of us wonder if we’re stuck in a rerun of 2024’s economic soap opera. Let’s unpack this with the kind of clarity Joe Aston might wield, slicing through the spin with a machete of truth. Buckle up, because this is less a victory lap and more a stumble through the outback.
In the quiet hum of our digital age, artificial intelligence (AI) has emerged as both a beacon of progress and a specter of unease. It’s the kind of technology that stirs the soul, promising to reshape our world while whispering warnings of unintended consequences.
Australia faces a housing crisis that stifles opportunity, burdens young people, and hampers economic growth. The root of the problem around the world lies in a planning system that empowers NIMBYs
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears—and your denarii, while you’re at it, because the gods know you won’t get much for them these days! I, Marcus Tullius Cicero, have returned from the shades to cast a jaundiced eye on this modern calamity: interest rates climbing faster than a plebeian chasing a free loaf at the Circus Maximus. The culprits? Not merely the Fates, but the heavy hand of regulation, which, like a toga too starched, constricts until it chokes.