Original article published Novermber 2010 in:
http://www.theage.com.au/opinion/politics/speed-camera-sceptics-endanger-us-all-20101122-183ot.html
What are shaping up as the big issues for the upcoming Victorian election? Health? Education? The environment? According to leaked ALP strategy documents, the topic that will swing many Victorians is the critical question of speed camera fines.
If you are to believe the stories on some commercial network current affairs programs, or the claims on websites such as aussiespeedingfines.com, the government has created "the miss-perception [sic] that speed kills" in order to strip you of your "driving rights". Yes, the Victorian government has apparently been colluding with governments from around the world, police, scientists, economists and health workers to perpetuate the absurd notion that speed and safety are somehow interrelated.
In order to claim that excessive speed isn't dangerous, the critics pretty much have to deny basic science. While Newton's laws of motion have been shown to be remarkably consistent and accurate since 1687, speed conspiracy theorists simply shrug off ideas such as force being the product of mass multiplied by acceleration; never mind that it was the very knowledge of such concepts that helped lead to the invention of automobiles in the first place. You can't have your physics and eat it too.
But in addition to those denying the basic science, there are even more people out there who fervently believe that speed cameras are all about revenue raising – a golden egg that bumps up the "coffers" of "greedy governments". Such people will write endless letters to the paper, buy "ghost plates" to obscure their registration number or GPS apps that alert them to speed camera hotspots – even change their vote – rather than just simply drive within the speed limit. Really, it's not that hard – you just match the big number on the sign to the little number on your speedo.
These sceptics most frequently rely on anecdotal evidence, online polls by interest groups and conclusions inferred from other related data to feed the public misinformation about speeding. When it comes to producing any properly designed, peer-reviewed research by independent bodies to support their claims, they generally fall mysteriously quiet. On the other hand, an increasing amount of research designed to test the efficacy of speed cameras is proving their benefits.
The University of Queensland, for example, released research last month that reviewed 35 existing studies and concluded that speed cameras (both fixed and mobile) reduced the average speed of drivers and lessened the chance of serious injury crashes and deaths in both urban and rural areas.
Whether or not they raise revenue, I would argue, is inconsequential. If they punish drivers who make the deliberate and calculated decision to speed and put others at risk, then I say bring on the tax. Anyway, the revenue raising argument loses a bit of its potency when you compare the estimated $437 million revenue from speed cameras in 2009-2010 and the actual cost of road trauma in the state, which is nearly $4 billion per year.
It's important to note that no one – governments, academics, "wowsers" like me – is arguing that speed alone is responsible for all traffic accidents. However, even where speed isn't the sole cause, the severity of injuries and likelihood of death are far greater when vehicles are travelling at higher speeds. It's that basic physics again.
Nor is anyone arguing that speed cameras should be the only weapon in the road safety arsenal. Better driver education, greater police presence and increased roadworthy standards, for example, are all critical parts of the safety equation. But properly functioning speed cameras do represent one of the most cost-effective ways of changing behaviour, deterring speeding and catching those who do.
For those still in doubt, I invite you to imagine the following scenario: Your six-year-old son is walking out of school and notices friends on the other side of the road. Without thinking or looking, as children so often do, he runs straight into the path of an oncoming car. Now, does it matter to you whether the driver was doing the 40-kilometre speed limit or do you maintain your faith that speed is largely irrelevant and feel ambivalent on discovering that the driver was doing 50 or even 60 km/h? As you sit outside the emergency department waiting to hear whether or not your son will survive, do you wish the driver had previously been caught by a camera in the vicinity of your son's school or do you still bemoan the "nanny state" and all its "rules"?
I'd put money on the fact that most speed camera sceptics have never felt the first-hand effects of road trauma. Perhaps if they had, they might realise that driving over and above the posted speed limit isn't actually a "right". In doing so, they might even make the roads safer for the rest of us.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
Fashion: It's big, it's bland
First published in the National Times in November 2010
With the spring racing carnival in full swing, don't expect to open a newspaper or turn on the telly without being confronted by the really important questions facing the world today: Fascinator or floral head dress? Should dresses be over or above the knee? And can you really wear a "nude"-coloured dress without appearing washed out?
Try as I might, I can't think of another industry on which we waste so much energy, money and media real estate and that contributes so little to the common good. And there is no other time of the year where fashion becomes such a sycophantic orgy as during the spring racing carnival. The fashion blather reaches its zenith today, Oaks Day, traditionally ladies day at the track.
Newspaper articles tell us what we can and can't wear, "experts" publicly rank race-goers on whether they have passed or failed some arbitrary test of style, and the news coverage will show us yet another woman falling on her face after getting a stiletto caught in the grass. Really, are we all that bored, or gullible, as to put up with this stuff?
From bewildering fashion shows such as a recent one from London Fashion Week, where designer Charlie Le Mindu sent expressionless models down the catwalk naked, to Lady Gaga's recent fashion shoot for Vogue in which she wore an outfit made entirely from cuts of raw beef, it's easy to find many examples of the frivolous and utterly preposterous nature of fashion. And from magazines that present and promote a physical ideal that most of us cannot attain, to high-heeled shoes that inhibit a woman's ability to do something as fundamental as freely walking around, you can also point to the industry's somewhat harmful nature. Despite all this though, what really infuriates me about fashion is the utter waste of it all.
At a time when more and more people are installing water tanks or collecting 4c/litre petrol savings dockets, we still elevate an industry that celebrates – indeed, is built upon the concept of – such pointless wastage.
It is astonishing to think that otherwise sane people can be convinced to change their wardrobe every season, discarding perfectly good clothes on which they spent not-insubstantial amounts of money just because some self-appointed fashion guru said so. It is mind-boggling to think that an otherwise fairly rational person could possibly justify spending $2000 on a handbag.
But, of course, money is not the only casualty in this endless loop of consumerism.
What about all the thousands of animals slaughtered for their hides because the leather look is apparently back "in" this year? What thought is given to the water required to irrigate the cotton crop, and the fossil fuels burnt during production and transportation of the distressed jeans that are supposed the "must have" item of the season? And, of course, when you're looking for a cheeky little number to wear to Oaks Day, it's easy to conveniently ignore the fact that the majority of Australian-made clothing is produced by a workforce of 300,000 migrant outworkers who, according to the Fairwear campaign, earn as little as $3 per hour and work 18-hour days. Clothes made using overseas labour are likely to have been produced by workers who face even worse conditions.
Sure, there is a place for self-expression via clothing, a growing interest in second-hand garments and some designers are attempting to be more ethical. But in a consumer-driven, image-conscious world, it can be easy to get lost in the belief that, as designer Vivienne Westwood so succinctly put it, "fashion is very important". Really? What about climate change? Or the 13 million people still affected by the Pakistan floods? Sometimes it pays to remember that fashion is one of the most unimportant things in the world.
Perhaps it is time, in a week when the media is likely to be soaked with talk of frocks and frills and flowers in button holes, for us to re-examine the degree to which we have elevated an ultimately pointless, profit-driven and self-serving industry. Maybe we should stop to consider the environmental and social costs involved in discarding good clothes because they are "so last season".
See the original article at: http://www.theage.com.au/opinion/society-and-culture/its-big-its-bland-its-fashion-20101103-17do4.html
With the spring racing carnival in full swing, don't expect to open a newspaper or turn on the telly without being confronted by the really important questions facing the world today: Fascinator or floral head dress? Should dresses be over or above the knee? And can you really wear a "nude"-coloured dress without appearing washed out?
Try as I might, I can't think of another industry on which we waste so much energy, money and media real estate and that contributes so little to the common good. And there is no other time of the year where fashion becomes such a sycophantic orgy as during the spring racing carnival. The fashion blather reaches its zenith today, Oaks Day, traditionally ladies day at the track.
Newspaper articles tell us what we can and can't wear, "experts" publicly rank race-goers on whether they have passed or failed some arbitrary test of style, and the news coverage will show us yet another woman falling on her face after getting a stiletto caught in the grass. Really, are we all that bored, or gullible, as to put up with this stuff?
From bewildering fashion shows such as a recent one from London Fashion Week, where designer Charlie Le Mindu sent expressionless models down the catwalk naked, to Lady Gaga's recent fashion shoot for Vogue in which she wore an outfit made entirely from cuts of raw beef, it's easy to find many examples of the frivolous and utterly preposterous nature of fashion. And from magazines that present and promote a physical ideal that most of us cannot attain, to high-heeled shoes that inhibit a woman's ability to do something as fundamental as freely walking around, you can also point to the industry's somewhat harmful nature. Despite all this though, what really infuriates me about fashion is the utter waste of it all.
At a time when more and more people are installing water tanks or collecting 4c/litre petrol savings dockets, we still elevate an industry that celebrates – indeed, is built upon the concept of – such pointless wastage.
It is astonishing to think that otherwise sane people can be convinced to change their wardrobe every season, discarding perfectly good clothes on which they spent not-insubstantial amounts of money just because some self-appointed fashion guru said so. It is mind-boggling to think that an otherwise fairly rational person could possibly justify spending $2000 on a handbag.
But, of course, money is not the only casualty in this endless loop of consumerism.
What about all the thousands of animals slaughtered for their hides because the leather look is apparently back "in" this year? What thought is given to the water required to irrigate the cotton crop, and the fossil fuels burnt during production and transportation of the distressed jeans that are supposed the "must have" item of the season? And, of course, when you're looking for a cheeky little number to wear to Oaks Day, it's easy to conveniently ignore the fact that the majority of Australian-made clothing is produced by a workforce of 300,000 migrant outworkers who, according to the Fairwear campaign, earn as little as $3 per hour and work 18-hour days. Clothes made using overseas labour are likely to have been produced by workers who face even worse conditions.
Sure, there is a place for self-expression via clothing, a growing interest in second-hand garments and some designers are attempting to be more ethical. But in a consumer-driven, image-conscious world, it can be easy to get lost in the belief that, as designer Vivienne Westwood so succinctly put it, "fashion is very important". Really? What about climate change? Or the 13 million people still affected by the Pakistan floods? Sometimes it pays to remember that fashion is one of the most unimportant things in the world.
Perhaps it is time, in a week when the media is likely to be soaked with talk of frocks and frills and flowers in button holes, for us to re-examine the degree to which we have elevated an ultimately pointless, profit-driven and self-serving industry. Maybe we should stop to consider the environmental and social costs involved in discarding good clothes because they are "so last season".
See the original article at: http://www.theage.com.au/opinion/society-and-culture/its-big-its-bland-its-fashion-20101103-17do4.html
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Chimneys - The forgotten health risk
This article first appeared in the National Times in October 2010.
Western Australia has just introduced some of the toughest anti-smoking laws in the world, banning the practice within 10 metres of playgrounds, between the flags at beaches and in al fresco dining areas.
In response to the precedent set in the west, the Australian Medical Association Victoria has started pushing the Brumby government for a similar ban. In Tasmania, the Burnie City Council has gone one step further, passing a resolution supporting a complete ban on the sale and use of tobacco in Tasmania.
But while the passive smoking debate continues to fill newspaper columns around the country, another similar issue is smouldering away in the background and, although the health risks are every bit as compelling, no one seems to be paying it very much attention at all.
While many people rate a cosy fire, along with slippers and hot chocolate, as one of the silver linings of the cold winter clouds, the residential burning of firewood is recognised as a significant source of pollution in the urban environment.
Wood smoke has been shown to be the main cause of cold weather smog and PM2.5 pollution, the pollutant most commonly associated with increased hospital admissions. PM2.5 pollution is defined as particles that are less than 2.5 micrometres in diameter — small enough to penetrate deeply into the lungs and heart. Just to give you an idea of the scale of the problem, the most recent NSW Air Emissions Inventory (2003) showed that wood heaters in Sydney produce almost 6000 tonnes of PM2.5 per year, while all the petrol-fuelled passenger cars in the city put together produce (a mere) 972 tonnes. In addition to particle pollution, even an efficient, correctly-operated wood heater releases smoke that contains carcinogens in much greater concentrations than found in cigarette smoke, and emits more greenhouse gases than any other form of heating.
A discussion paper recently released by the Environment Protection and Heritage Council, an organisation representing the Australian, New Zealand and Papua New Guinea governments, describes an association between hospital admissions and the type of particle pollution produced by wood heaters and open fires. According to Dr James Markos, from the Australian Lung Foundation, ''There is no safe level of exposure . . . [it] has similar long-term consequences to environmental tobacco smoke, including the risk of lung cancer and heart disease.''
Indeed, many people who experience chronic lung conditions, such as my five-year-old niece who suffers from asthma, know that the effects are so acute that it is safer and easier to limit outdoor activities on cool weather days rather than risk another trip to the emergency department.
Aside from their nostalgic, romantic connotations, wood heaters, of course, serve a practical purpose. Many who live in houses with a slow combustion heater or open fire simply cannot afford to install a cleaner heating system, and point to their relatively low operating costs (although it could be argued that we all bear a far greater cost).
It would seem appropriate that governments not only begin educating people about the effects of their wood smoke on the community more generally, but also step in to financially assist people to replace this form of heating. Perhaps they could follow the lead of Canberra, where the topography of the city causes particularly high concentrations of particle pollution to settle over the city, and introduce a rebate to replace wood heaters with gas heating.
Such a push will undoubtedly have some people crying ''nanny state'' and bemoaning a loss of personal freedom. Many people, it seems, feel it is a fundamental human right to burn things when and where they choose, no matter how other people are affected. However, just as the health effects of passive smoking are unequivocal, so too are those caused by inhaling the smoke produced by burning wood. There must come a point where community health and safety overrides the ''right'' of an individual to act in a manner that harms others.
Talking about wood smoke might not be as sexy as talking about cigarette smoking, but it is as important a health issue. If we are going to get serious about protecting the immediate well-being of those with lung conditions and the long-term health of everyone else by limiting passive smoking, we need to similarly recognise and restrict other forms of dangerous air pollution – and that includes what comes out of our chimneys.
The original text is available at: http://www.theage.com.au/opinion/society-and-culture/chimneys-the-forgotten-health-risk-20101011-16fam.html
Western Australia has just introduced some of the toughest anti-smoking laws in the world, banning the practice within 10 metres of playgrounds, between the flags at beaches and in al fresco dining areas.
In response to the precedent set in the west, the Australian Medical Association Victoria has started pushing the Brumby government for a similar ban. In Tasmania, the Burnie City Council has gone one step further, passing a resolution supporting a complete ban on the sale and use of tobacco in Tasmania.
But while the passive smoking debate continues to fill newspaper columns around the country, another similar issue is smouldering away in the background and, although the health risks are every bit as compelling, no one seems to be paying it very much attention at all.
While many people rate a cosy fire, along with slippers and hot chocolate, as one of the silver linings of the cold winter clouds, the residential burning of firewood is recognised as a significant source of pollution in the urban environment.
Wood smoke has been shown to be the main cause of cold weather smog and PM2.5 pollution, the pollutant most commonly associated with increased hospital admissions. PM2.5 pollution is defined as particles that are less than 2.5 micrometres in diameter — small enough to penetrate deeply into the lungs and heart. Just to give you an idea of the scale of the problem, the most recent NSW Air Emissions Inventory (2003) showed that wood heaters in Sydney produce almost 6000 tonnes of PM2.5 per year, while all the petrol-fuelled passenger cars in the city put together produce (a mere) 972 tonnes. In addition to particle pollution, even an efficient, correctly-operated wood heater releases smoke that contains carcinogens in much greater concentrations than found in cigarette smoke, and emits more greenhouse gases than any other form of heating.
A discussion paper recently released by the Environment Protection and Heritage Council, an organisation representing the Australian, New Zealand and Papua New Guinea governments, describes an association between hospital admissions and the type of particle pollution produced by wood heaters and open fires. According to Dr James Markos, from the Australian Lung Foundation, ''There is no safe level of exposure . . . [it] has similar long-term consequences to environmental tobacco smoke, including the risk of lung cancer and heart disease.''
Indeed, many people who experience chronic lung conditions, such as my five-year-old niece who suffers from asthma, know that the effects are so acute that it is safer and easier to limit outdoor activities on cool weather days rather than risk another trip to the emergency department.
Aside from their nostalgic, romantic connotations, wood heaters, of course, serve a practical purpose. Many who live in houses with a slow combustion heater or open fire simply cannot afford to install a cleaner heating system, and point to their relatively low operating costs (although it could be argued that we all bear a far greater cost).
It would seem appropriate that governments not only begin educating people about the effects of their wood smoke on the community more generally, but also step in to financially assist people to replace this form of heating. Perhaps they could follow the lead of Canberra, where the topography of the city causes particularly high concentrations of particle pollution to settle over the city, and introduce a rebate to replace wood heaters with gas heating.
Such a push will undoubtedly have some people crying ''nanny state'' and bemoaning a loss of personal freedom. Many people, it seems, feel it is a fundamental human right to burn things when and where they choose, no matter how other people are affected. However, just as the health effects of passive smoking are unequivocal, so too are those caused by inhaling the smoke produced by burning wood. There must come a point where community health and safety overrides the ''right'' of an individual to act in a manner that harms others.
Talking about wood smoke might not be as sexy as talking about cigarette smoking, but it is as important a health issue. If we are going to get serious about protecting the immediate well-being of those with lung conditions and the long-term health of everyone else by limiting passive smoking, we need to similarly recognise and restrict other forms of dangerous air pollution – and that includes what comes out of our chimneys.
The original text is available at: http://www.theage.com.au/opinion/society-and-culture/chimneys-the-forgotten-health-risk-20101011-16fam.html
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Breast is best - for longer than you may think
This article was first published on The National Times (20/09/2010)
As my daughter approaches 18 months of age, everyone is suddenly interested in the question of my weaning her. It seems that I am about to step over an invisible line where breastfeeding becomes weird, inappropriate and unappealing.
You've got to feel sorry for new mothers. When a baby is born, the pressure to breastfeed is intense. Women who do not, through either choice or necessity, might as well leave their newborns out in the woods for the wolves, such is the scorn heaped upon them by everyone from hospital midwives to sanctimonious friends and family.
But the breastfeeding window is only open for a short period. Choose to do it beyond a certain age and you'll be regarded as strange, selfish and a bit disgusting. By a certain point in time, breasts are expected to be back on the public market, not being monopolised by a selfish child.
A study released last month from the University of Pittsburgh found that mothers who breastfeed are less likely to develop Type 2 diabetes. The research adds to an already long list of breastfeeding benefits — from the promotion of sensory and cognitive development and protection against infectious and chronic diseases in infants, to lower rates of breast, uterine, ovarian and cervical cancers, heart attack, stroke and cardiovascular disease in mothers. Much of the research has also indicated that the protective effects of breastfeeding increase with its duration.
While the World Health Organisation recommends that women breastfeed for up to two years of age or beyond, in Australia it has been reported that only 14 per cent of women were breastfeeding their babies at six months. A Newspoll study in 2009 found that one-third of Australians believe that breastfeeding should stop at six months, with an additional 39 per cent believing it should cease by 12 months. Both in public attitude and in practise, it would seem that Australia is way out of step with the leading advice on public health.
It is difficult to pinpoint why we feel so confronted when we see, or even think of, women breastfeeding older babies or toddlers. There are some who are always going to be unreasonably bothered by the idea of a woman ''whipping out'' a breast in public. Interestingly in the Newspoll study, most people objecting to public breastfeeding were not the old fuddy-duddies you'd expect, but people in the 18-24 year age group.
One of the most common reasons cited by people objecting to sustained breastfeeding seems to revolve around the idea that it is unnatural or creepy if a child is old enough to walk up to its mother and ask for a drink — or, in other words, if they have developed any movement or language skills. Other commonly given concerns include suggestions that the child will become too dependent, an objection that seems particularly strong if the child is a boy, or that the mother is prolonging the practice in order to fulfil her own emotional needs.
At the heart of these thinly veiled criticisms is a fundamental clash between the idea of breasts as objects of lust and ones with an intended biological purpose.
We have no problem allowing images of breasts to be plastered all over TV, billboards and online media. However, many people are horrified at the mere thought of a woman daring to use them publicly, or even in the privacy of her own home, to feed a two-year-old. For many, there seems to be an irrational concern that if we encourage all this breastfeeding business too much, the sexual potency of breasts everywhere will be somehow diminished.
It's worth remembering that breastfeeding doesn't always come easily. Please, can we not make it any more difficult for women by vocally, and sometimes viciously, attacking their choices about if, where, when and for how long they choose to do it.
For the record, I don't plan on weaning my daughter just yet. I feel fortunate to be in a situation where I can still feed her and will continue to do so while it remains convenient, cheap and provides us both with unparalleled health benefits. I can't see anything unnatural or creepy about that.
Original article at: http://www.smh.com.au/opinion/contributors/breast-is-best--for-longer-than-you-may-think-20100917-15fcs.html
As my daughter approaches 18 months of age, everyone is suddenly interested in the question of my weaning her. It seems that I am about to step over an invisible line where breastfeeding becomes weird, inappropriate and unappealing.
You've got to feel sorry for new mothers. When a baby is born, the pressure to breastfeed is intense. Women who do not, through either choice or necessity, might as well leave their newborns out in the woods for the wolves, such is the scorn heaped upon them by everyone from hospital midwives to sanctimonious friends and family.
But the breastfeeding window is only open for a short period. Choose to do it beyond a certain age and you'll be regarded as strange, selfish and a bit disgusting. By a certain point in time, breasts are expected to be back on the public market, not being monopolised by a selfish child.
A study released last month from the University of Pittsburgh found that mothers who breastfeed are less likely to develop Type 2 diabetes. The research adds to an already long list of breastfeeding benefits — from the promotion of sensory and cognitive development and protection against infectious and chronic diseases in infants, to lower rates of breast, uterine, ovarian and cervical cancers, heart attack, stroke and cardiovascular disease in mothers. Much of the research has also indicated that the protective effects of breastfeeding increase with its duration.
While the World Health Organisation recommends that women breastfeed for up to two years of age or beyond, in Australia it has been reported that only 14 per cent of women were breastfeeding their babies at six months. A Newspoll study in 2009 found that one-third of Australians believe that breastfeeding should stop at six months, with an additional 39 per cent believing it should cease by 12 months. Both in public attitude and in practise, it would seem that Australia is way out of step with the leading advice on public health.
It is difficult to pinpoint why we feel so confronted when we see, or even think of, women breastfeeding older babies or toddlers. There are some who are always going to be unreasonably bothered by the idea of a woman ''whipping out'' a breast in public. Interestingly in the Newspoll study, most people objecting to public breastfeeding were not the old fuddy-duddies you'd expect, but people in the 18-24 year age group.
One of the most common reasons cited by people objecting to sustained breastfeeding seems to revolve around the idea that it is unnatural or creepy if a child is old enough to walk up to its mother and ask for a drink — or, in other words, if they have developed any movement or language skills. Other commonly given concerns include suggestions that the child will become too dependent, an objection that seems particularly strong if the child is a boy, or that the mother is prolonging the practice in order to fulfil her own emotional needs.
At the heart of these thinly veiled criticisms is a fundamental clash between the idea of breasts as objects of lust and ones with an intended biological purpose.
We have no problem allowing images of breasts to be plastered all over TV, billboards and online media. However, many people are horrified at the mere thought of a woman daring to use them publicly, or even in the privacy of her own home, to feed a two-year-old. For many, there seems to be an irrational concern that if we encourage all this breastfeeding business too much, the sexual potency of breasts everywhere will be somehow diminished.
It's worth remembering that breastfeeding doesn't always come easily. Please, can we not make it any more difficult for women by vocally, and sometimes viciously, attacking their choices about if, where, when and for how long they choose to do it.
For the record, I don't plan on weaning my daughter just yet. I feel fortunate to be in a situation where I can still feed her and will continue to do so while it remains convenient, cheap and provides us both with unparalleled health benefits. I can't see anything unnatural or creepy about that.
Original article at: http://www.smh.com.au/opinion/contributors/breast-is-best--for-longer-than-you-may-think-20100917-15fcs.html
Monday, August 30, 2010
Could a 21-hour working week work?
This article was first published in The Age in August 2010
Call me a lazy bludger, but I have strived throughout my life to avoid permanent full-time paid employment. Over the years, I have cobbled together combinations of part-time positions, volunteer work and ''home duties'' with the kids.
I realise that this is a luxury not afforded to many and feel fortunate to have worked in industries in which part-time work is available, paid at a reasonable rate and doesn't necessarily single you out as being unambitious or slack. Financially, it has meant going without the new TVs, fancy clothes or overseas trips that friends might have, but nonetheless I have always remained steadfast in my belief that a long working week compromises your enjoyment of life.
When the New Economics Foundation, an independent think tank, released a report encouraging people to engage in a "thought experiment" in which the standard working week was reduced to 21 hours, even I thought it sounded a little wacky. But I starting coming around to the idea and began wondering why we never even question the assumption that we all want to work 40-hour weeks.
For some reason, we seem wedded to this ideal of eight hours a day, five days a week, as if it were, quite literally, cast in stone on that day when Melbourne stonemasons downed tools in 1856. We accept ''40'' as if it is the magical number that allows people to work at their best, optimises productivity and without which the economy will go to ruin.
What is ridiculous about our unquestioning attachment to the 40-hour week is how few people are actually working it.
According to the Australia Institute, Australians clock up one of the longest working weeks in the world, with full-time workers putting in 44 hours on average each week. Whether or not people are financially compensated for this extra work (the majority are not), many workers report being dissatisfied with the long hours expected from them, either explicitly or implicitly, by their employer and express a desire to work less. Indeed, research shows that the benefits of reducing the standard working week could be huge.
Most people still aspire to the adage about working to live, rather than living to work. However, our beliefs about how we should live have significantly altered over the past few decades. As Australia Institute founder Clive Hamilton points out, we have scaled-up our lifestyle expectations to such a degree that we feel compelled to work longer hours, to earn more, only so we can buy more. Ultimately, of course, this ascent of consumerism is unsustainable on both a personal and an environmental level. Working less might give us pause to re-examine our materialistic desires and allow us the time to find ways to live more sustainably.
A shorter working week might also reap positive health benefits. Research commissioned by the Queensland Department of Industrial Relations identified a relationship between longer working hours and sleep-deprivation, obesity, alcoholism and cardiovascular disease.
Not only could working fewer hours lead to less stress and longer, better-quality sleep, it would also give people more opportunity to engage in exercise, to visit health professionals regularly and to become less reliant on unhealthy or fast-food options. Crucially, it would allow people more time to relax, whether that means going for walks, seeing friends, reading, listening to music or watching TV.
But the clincher is the amount of time it would free up to spend with people we care about. Whether it is spent kicking a footy with the kids, caring for elderly parents, engaging in volunteer work or in organised activities, it is undoubtedly good for our relationships and for the cohesiveness and well-being of the wider community.
I'm not going to claim to be an expert on macroeconomics or the deregulation of the labour market. Despite the New Economics Foundation's claims that shorter working weeks combined with fair wages for all could result in a better distribution of paid work, address some of the issues facing women in the workforce and help us move towards a decarbonised economy, I have no doubt that the business community would close down any attempts to shorten the working week significantly with the claim that "we can't afford it".
However, that's not to say that we should not, after more than 150 years, review the idea of the 40-hour working week and ask ourselves some crucial questions: Will accumulating more ''stuff'' make us happier? How do we value, financially reward and share different kinds of work? And how can we actualise the kind of lives that we really want?
Original article at: http://www.theage.com.au/opinion/society-and-culture/less-time-on-the-job-could-really-work-20100827-13w07.html
Call me a lazy bludger, but I have strived throughout my life to avoid permanent full-time paid employment. Over the years, I have cobbled together combinations of part-time positions, volunteer work and ''home duties'' with the kids.
I realise that this is a luxury not afforded to many and feel fortunate to have worked in industries in which part-time work is available, paid at a reasonable rate and doesn't necessarily single you out as being unambitious or slack. Financially, it has meant going without the new TVs, fancy clothes or overseas trips that friends might have, but nonetheless I have always remained steadfast in my belief that a long working week compromises your enjoyment of life.
When the New Economics Foundation, an independent think tank, released a report encouraging people to engage in a "thought experiment" in which the standard working week was reduced to 21 hours, even I thought it sounded a little wacky. But I starting coming around to the idea and began wondering why we never even question the assumption that we all want to work 40-hour weeks.
For some reason, we seem wedded to this ideal of eight hours a day, five days a week, as if it were, quite literally, cast in stone on that day when Melbourne stonemasons downed tools in 1856. We accept ''40'' as if it is the magical number that allows people to work at their best, optimises productivity and without which the economy will go to ruin.
What is ridiculous about our unquestioning attachment to the 40-hour week is how few people are actually working it.
According to the Australia Institute, Australians clock up one of the longest working weeks in the world, with full-time workers putting in 44 hours on average each week. Whether or not people are financially compensated for this extra work (the majority are not), many workers report being dissatisfied with the long hours expected from them, either explicitly or implicitly, by their employer and express a desire to work less. Indeed, research shows that the benefits of reducing the standard working week could be huge.
Most people still aspire to the adage about working to live, rather than living to work. However, our beliefs about how we should live have significantly altered over the past few decades. As Australia Institute founder Clive Hamilton points out, we have scaled-up our lifestyle expectations to such a degree that we feel compelled to work longer hours, to earn more, only so we can buy more. Ultimately, of course, this ascent of consumerism is unsustainable on both a personal and an environmental level. Working less might give us pause to re-examine our materialistic desires and allow us the time to find ways to live more sustainably.
A shorter working week might also reap positive health benefits. Research commissioned by the Queensland Department of Industrial Relations identified a relationship between longer working hours and sleep-deprivation, obesity, alcoholism and cardiovascular disease.
Not only could working fewer hours lead to less stress and longer, better-quality sleep, it would also give people more opportunity to engage in exercise, to visit health professionals regularly and to become less reliant on unhealthy or fast-food options. Crucially, it would allow people more time to relax, whether that means going for walks, seeing friends, reading, listening to music or watching TV.
But the clincher is the amount of time it would free up to spend with people we care about. Whether it is spent kicking a footy with the kids, caring for elderly parents, engaging in volunteer work or in organised activities, it is undoubtedly good for our relationships and for the cohesiveness and well-being of the wider community.
I'm not going to claim to be an expert on macroeconomics or the deregulation of the labour market. Despite the New Economics Foundation's claims that shorter working weeks combined with fair wages for all could result in a better distribution of paid work, address some of the issues facing women in the workforce and help us move towards a decarbonised economy, I have no doubt that the business community would close down any attempts to shorten the working week significantly with the claim that "we can't afford it".
However, that's not to say that we should not, after more than 150 years, review the idea of the 40-hour working week and ask ourselves some crucial questions: Will accumulating more ''stuff'' make us happier? How do we value, financially reward and share different kinds of work? And how can we actualise the kind of lives that we really want?
Original article at: http://www.theage.com.au/opinion/society-and-culture/less-time-on-the-job-could-really-work-20100827-13w07.html
Boot licking in the political playground
Running for government necessarily involves a degree of shameless boot licking. But Julia Gillard's sudden bid to win the Christian vote would have even the youngest of school children shouting 'brown nose' out across the playground.
When Gillard went public with her lack of faith, many people dared to dream of a future where right-wing Christian lobby groups might wield less influence over our national leader and on debate around issues such as gay marriage, euthanasia and overseas aid. If nothing else, it would free up that spot on the news every Sunday night previously taken up by Kevin Rudd's (and before him, John Howard's) impromptu media conferences held on the way home from church.
But the Christian vote proved just too alluring in the end for the prime minister. It seems that in the same way that I tried to impress the most popular girl at school with a spectacular attempt at a double backflip off the monkey bars in grade six, Gillard will try anything in an attempt to win over new friends in the religious right.
Two weeks ago, the prime minister canned her original plan to send a video message to the Mary MacKillop fundraising dinner, not only turning up in person but also pledging $1.5 million of public money towards the canonisation shin-dig in October. In her response to questions from the Australian Christian Lobby (ACL), Gillard confirmed that the Labor Party is committed to maintaining the definition of marriage as being exclusively between a man and a woman. More recently, she has pledged $222 million to expand the number of chaplains in schools by one-third.
According to government guidelines, the National School Chaplaincy Programme's aim is to assist schools to provide pastoral care, and general religious and personal guidance. Currently, about 2700 schools receive approximately $20,000 a year to employ a person with a religious background to provide this “advice and comfort”. Julia Gillard has assured the ACL that there will be no moves to secularise the program in the future.
The website of my old alma mater – a public school – shows that they have taken up the cash on offer and employed their very own chaplain. While I admittedly had a pretty tame childhood (notwithstanding the monkey bars incident), one thing is for sure – had I ever had real cause to seek counselling during my school years, a school chaplain is the last person I would have approached for advice.
When I think back to the problems that kids faced when I was young, they include issues around teen sex, drugs, alcohol and grief. What kind of advice would a chaplain provide to a young girl dealing with an unwanted pregnancy? What about a teenage boy who was coming to terms with being gay? Or just a vulnerable student who was grappling with questions about the meaning of life? It would be simply naïve to think that a chaplain could possibly put aside their religious beliefs and provide unbiased advice to students in such circumstances.
In her previous role as education minister, Julia Gillard had undertaken to replace chaplains in schools with qualified psychologists and counsellors. Now, however, she is vowing to continue a program that uses public money to directly support a program that aims to advance religion among the young and – let's face it – sometimes impressionable. Such a promise would seem to stand in complete contradiction to the principle of the separation of church and state.
One of the Labor Party's other promises in this campaign has centred around mental health issues. Over $65 million has been pledged to provide services to promote mental health in children and to address youth suicide. Just imagine what difference another $222 million could make if the money spent on employing chaplains in schools was diverted to more tangible and proven strategies for improving the welfare and well-being of our young people.
I know that in the playground of politics you might sometimes be forced to act in ways that compromise your personal beliefs in the name of winning votes and crucial marginal seats. But no one respects you when you sell out and try to be friends with absolutely everybody. I never did master that double backflip off the monkey bars. Instead, I ended up face-planting into the tan bark, humiliating myself and making even my existing friends a bit embarrassed to sit next to me in class later that afternoon. There's a lesson in there somewhere for the prime minister.
When Gillard went public with her lack of faith, many people dared to dream of a future where right-wing Christian lobby groups might wield less influence over our national leader and on debate around issues such as gay marriage, euthanasia and overseas aid. If nothing else, it would free up that spot on the news every Sunday night previously taken up by Kevin Rudd's (and before him, John Howard's) impromptu media conferences held on the way home from church.
But the Christian vote proved just too alluring in the end for the prime minister. It seems that in the same way that I tried to impress the most popular girl at school with a spectacular attempt at a double backflip off the monkey bars in grade six, Gillard will try anything in an attempt to win over new friends in the religious right.
Two weeks ago, the prime minister canned her original plan to send a video message to the Mary MacKillop fundraising dinner, not only turning up in person but also pledging $1.5 million of public money towards the canonisation shin-dig in October. In her response to questions from the Australian Christian Lobby (ACL), Gillard confirmed that the Labor Party is committed to maintaining the definition of marriage as being exclusively between a man and a woman. More recently, she has pledged $222 million to expand the number of chaplains in schools by one-third.
According to government guidelines, the National School Chaplaincy Programme's aim is to assist schools to provide pastoral care, and general religious and personal guidance. Currently, about 2700 schools receive approximately $20,000 a year to employ a person with a religious background to provide this “advice and comfort”. Julia Gillard has assured the ACL that there will be no moves to secularise the program in the future.
The website of my old alma mater – a public school – shows that they have taken up the cash on offer and employed their very own chaplain. While I admittedly had a pretty tame childhood (notwithstanding the monkey bars incident), one thing is for sure – had I ever had real cause to seek counselling during my school years, a school chaplain is the last person I would have approached for advice.
When I think back to the problems that kids faced when I was young, they include issues around teen sex, drugs, alcohol and grief. What kind of advice would a chaplain provide to a young girl dealing with an unwanted pregnancy? What about a teenage boy who was coming to terms with being gay? Or just a vulnerable student who was grappling with questions about the meaning of life? It would be simply naïve to think that a chaplain could possibly put aside their religious beliefs and provide unbiased advice to students in such circumstances.
In her previous role as education minister, Julia Gillard had undertaken to replace chaplains in schools with qualified psychologists and counsellors. Now, however, she is vowing to continue a program that uses public money to directly support a program that aims to advance religion among the young and – let's face it – sometimes impressionable. Such a promise would seem to stand in complete contradiction to the principle of the separation of church and state.
One of the Labor Party's other promises in this campaign has centred around mental health issues. Over $65 million has been pledged to provide services to promote mental health in children and to address youth suicide. Just imagine what difference another $222 million could make if the money spent on employing chaplains in schools was diverted to more tangible and proven strategies for improving the welfare and well-being of our young people.
I know that in the playground of politics you might sometimes be forced to act in ways that compromise your personal beliefs in the name of winning votes and crucial marginal seats. But no one respects you when you sell out and try to be friends with absolutely everybody. I never did master that double backflip off the monkey bars. Instead, I ended up face-planting into the tan bark, humiliating myself and making even my existing friends a bit embarrassed to sit next to me in class later that afternoon. There's a lesson in there somewhere for the prime minister.
Encouraging atheist women to come out
This article was first published in the National Times in August 2010
The Vatican's recent revisions that put the ordination of women on par with child sex abuse drew howls of protest from around the world. In some ways, I think people are being a little unfair.
After all, the Catholic Church is just being true to form – it has actively discriminated against women since its inception. Perhaps rather than condemning the Church for this slip-up, we should be thanking it for the reminder that religious values and teachings have been used to incite, aid and justify discrimination against women throughout history.
From the orthodox Jewish prayer in which men thank God for not making them women, to the estimated 5000 Muslim women and girls who are shot, strangled, stoned, burned or otherwise killed by their own families every year in an effort to restore "honour", you can find countless examples from every one of the major religions to demonstrate their patriarchal basis and the inherent message that women are inferior to men.
But while it is women's lives that are so often restricted and harmed by religious practices, debates involving religion – both for and against – are still often dominated by men. Female atheists clearly do exist, with 2006 census data showing women compose nearly half of the Australians who label themselves as having no religion. But they always seem so quiet.
Part of the problem, I think, stems from the brand of atheism that is dominant today. Many people, especially women, might find it intimidating or unappealing.
While the religious can simply fall back on a position of faith to justify their own beliefs, atheists are not afforded the same kind of shoulder-shrugging, passive argument. Instead, they are expected to have a university-level understanding of every major religion, a thorough grounding in ancient and modern history, and a faultless knowledge of science. Atheists must be prepared to actively defend their non-belief, a process that by definition will offend many believers.
While there is most definitely a place for this so-called "militant" atheism, it is little wonder that some women might find it off-putting. After all, girls are taught to be sensitive and emotional, to not cause trouble or be particularly forthright with their opinions. Women who dare to be aggressive or outspoken are often labelled as hysterical harpies, not worthy of being listened to and impossible to take seriously. We should hardly be surprised that some women might be reluctant to come out as atheists.
All of this is not to say that there are no vocal or intelligent women out there talking about the role of religion, sharing stories about their own loss of faith and generally waving the atheist flag. However, we rarely hear the names of Dutch activist Ayaan Hirsi Ali or author Ophelia Benson mentioned alongside Richard Dawkins or Christopher Hitchens.
How then can we redress the balance and create an environment in which more women are encouraged and inspired to align themselves publicly with science, reason and non-belief? How can we better engage them in discussions about the ways in which religious teachings are used to control female bodies and lives?
Perhaps we need to promote a different side to atheism that is not so much seen as looking back in anger, as it is about looking forward with hope. While it may be akin to sacrilege, maybe there is room for a type of atheism that isn't so much about being anti-religious, as it is about looking at questions of how to live, how to find meaning and how to end suffering.
Clearly, not all believers are misogynists; equally, many acts of violence against women have been perpetrated by non-believers. However, as Jimmy Carter pointed out last year, religion remains one of the "basic causes of the violation of women's rights" and this is something that all of us must work together to tackle.
It's not a question of whether smart, rational women are out there – it's just a matter of encouraging them to stand up and make their voices heard when it comes to matters of reason and religion.
Original article at: http://www.theage.com.au/opinion/society-and-culture/why-religion-and-atheism-need-smart-women-20100805-11imn.html
The Vatican's recent revisions that put the ordination of women on par with child sex abuse drew howls of protest from around the world. In some ways, I think people are being a little unfair.
After all, the Catholic Church is just being true to form – it has actively discriminated against women since its inception. Perhaps rather than condemning the Church for this slip-up, we should be thanking it for the reminder that religious values and teachings have been used to incite, aid and justify discrimination against women throughout history.
From the orthodox Jewish prayer in which men thank God for not making them women, to the estimated 5000 Muslim women and girls who are shot, strangled, stoned, burned or otherwise killed by their own families every year in an effort to restore "honour", you can find countless examples from every one of the major religions to demonstrate their patriarchal basis and the inherent message that women are inferior to men.
But while it is women's lives that are so often restricted and harmed by religious practices, debates involving religion – both for and against – are still often dominated by men. Female atheists clearly do exist, with 2006 census data showing women compose nearly half of the Australians who label themselves as having no religion. But they always seem so quiet.
Part of the problem, I think, stems from the brand of atheism that is dominant today. Many people, especially women, might find it intimidating or unappealing.
While the religious can simply fall back on a position of faith to justify their own beliefs, atheists are not afforded the same kind of shoulder-shrugging, passive argument. Instead, they are expected to have a university-level understanding of every major religion, a thorough grounding in ancient and modern history, and a faultless knowledge of science. Atheists must be prepared to actively defend their non-belief, a process that by definition will offend many believers.
While there is most definitely a place for this so-called "militant" atheism, it is little wonder that some women might find it off-putting. After all, girls are taught to be sensitive and emotional, to not cause trouble or be particularly forthright with their opinions. Women who dare to be aggressive or outspoken are often labelled as hysterical harpies, not worthy of being listened to and impossible to take seriously. We should hardly be surprised that some women might be reluctant to come out as atheists.
All of this is not to say that there are no vocal or intelligent women out there talking about the role of religion, sharing stories about their own loss of faith and generally waving the atheist flag. However, we rarely hear the names of Dutch activist Ayaan Hirsi Ali or author Ophelia Benson mentioned alongside Richard Dawkins or Christopher Hitchens.
How then can we redress the balance and create an environment in which more women are encouraged and inspired to align themselves publicly with science, reason and non-belief? How can we better engage them in discussions about the ways in which religious teachings are used to control female bodies and lives?
Perhaps we need to promote a different side to atheism that is not so much seen as looking back in anger, as it is about looking forward with hope. While it may be akin to sacrilege, maybe there is room for a type of atheism that isn't so much about being anti-religious, as it is about looking at questions of how to live, how to find meaning and how to end suffering.
Clearly, not all believers are misogynists; equally, many acts of violence against women have been perpetrated by non-believers. However, as Jimmy Carter pointed out last year, religion remains one of the "basic causes of the violation of women's rights" and this is something that all of us must work together to tackle.
It's not a question of whether smart, rational women are out there – it's just a matter of encouraging them to stand up and make their voices heard when it comes to matters of reason and religion.
Original article at: http://www.theage.com.au/opinion/society-and-culture/why-religion-and-atheism-need-smart-women-20100805-11imn.html
Not miraculous, just good luck
This article was first published in the National Times in July 2010
Every time you check the news lately it seems that God has performed another miracle. Last month, a four-year-old boy survived a seven-storey fall from the balcony of a high-rise building in Miami, landing on a palm tree with little more than a scratch. Within hours the press had dubbed him the "miracle boy" with witnesses declaring that they "saw the hand of God" helping the child.
We have also supposedly seen God's handiwork in a spate of recent airline disasters. First there was the Libyan plane crash and then, just 10 days later, a similar horror in India. In both cases, the survival of one or more passengers was deemed miraculous. In the case of the Mangalore accident, even those who missed the flight cited divine intervention. One of the passengers meant to board the plane said, "I was supposed to go at 1.15am, but by mistake I thought it was 1.15pm . . . it is actually a miracle from God".
All this talk of miracles tends to lead religion into dangerous territory. For me, "miracles" are just a reminder of a problem inherent in religious logic. If we are to believe that God really did intervene to save these people from an early death, what does this say about those who die? Presumably God does not care enough to save them from the terror and pain of an accidental death or to spare their families a lifetime of grief. We can also reasonably ask why, if God is all-powerful and all-loving, he doesn't prevent plane crashes and balcony falls in the first place?
The response offered up by religion is the baffling claim that God works in mysterious ways, or has a "higher plan", which we are not qualified – or even permitted – to inquire after. I prefer American biology professor and renowned internet blogger P.Z. Myers' recent response that such events can only be interpreted as proof that "God is a capricious bastard".
In Australia, most of our recent miracle work has come by way of helpful go-between Mary MacKillop. More astonishing than "miraculous" recoveries from terminal cancer, has been the media coverage of this story.
Since the canonisation campaign really started to take off, some Australian media outlets have simply and unabashedly reported Mary's miracles as if they were irrefutable fact, with the words "allegedly" and "according to" glaringly absent from many stories. Take, for example, this headline: "Woman miraculously cured from inoperable lung cancer by praying to Mary MacKillop". Perhaps even worse though, are uncritical reports that Mary's miracles have been subjected to "exhaustive inquiry" involving "rigorous scientific analysis".
According to the official Mary MacKillop website, the miracle rubber-stamping process involves demonstrating that a person really had an illness, that they are now cured, and the cure was not brought about by medical means. What is missing from all this "stringent" scrutiny by "medical specialists" though is one of the most fundamental tenets of scientific methodology: correlation does not prove causation. To claim that any miracle either recent or historical has been medically or scientifically proven is patently false.
While spontaneous regression from cancer is certainly uncommon, it is also not unknown or undocumented. Just because so-called miracle recipient Kathleen Evans recovered from lung and brain cancer, and she also prayed to Mary MacKillop, does not mean that one thing led to another. By the same logic, I could claim that wearing blue socks brings prosperity since I found $2 behind the couch this morning.
What's, of course, interesting about miracles is that they are always within the realm of the possible. If God really wanted to silence the doubters, why wouldn't he do something truly impressive and unambiguous? Or, as the now-infamous line goes, why doesn't God ever answer the prayers of amputees?
If the church wants to claim that an infrequent, yet still entirely possible, event is a miracle then that's up to them. For me, and I'm sure a lot of others, such statements just serve to remind us about one of the more difficult problems with religious belief – unless we are prepared to hold God directly accountable for all the unfair, undeserved and particularly unspeakable things that happen on his watch, we can't give him credit for the occasional stroke of good fortune. If this seems like a simplistic argument, that's because the hole in the logic just looks so impossibly big from this side.
Likewise, should people want to devote their lives to securing an Aussie sainthood, then that is their business. Personally, I can't help but think that two "confirmed" miracles in the 100-plus years since her death just suggests a kind of stinginess on Mary MacKillop's part.
Instead my objections arise when the church and the media start uncritically reporting "miracles" as news and as fact.
With Mary MacKillop's big day looming in October, let's hope that the coverage of her canonisation shows due respect for reason, science and good sense. In the meantime, can we please banish all this talk of miracles and call survival stories what they really are – cases of good luck.
Original text at: http://www.theage.com.au/opinion/society-and-culture/not-miraculous-just-good-luck-20100716-10dwp.html
Every time you check the news lately it seems that God has performed another miracle. Last month, a four-year-old boy survived a seven-storey fall from the balcony of a high-rise building in Miami, landing on a palm tree with little more than a scratch. Within hours the press had dubbed him the "miracle boy" with witnesses declaring that they "saw the hand of God" helping the child.
We have also supposedly seen God's handiwork in a spate of recent airline disasters. First there was the Libyan plane crash and then, just 10 days later, a similar horror in India. In both cases, the survival of one or more passengers was deemed miraculous. In the case of the Mangalore accident, even those who missed the flight cited divine intervention. One of the passengers meant to board the plane said, "I was supposed to go at 1.15am, but by mistake I thought it was 1.15pm . . . it is actually a miracle from God".
All this talk of miracles tends to lead religion into dangerous territory. For me, "miracles" are just a reminder of a problem inherent in religious logic. If we are to believe that God really did intervene to save these people from an early death, what does this say about those who die? Presumably God does not care enough to save them from the terror and pain of an accidental death or to spare their families a lifetime of grief. We can also reasonably ask why, if God is all-powerful and all-loving, he doesn't prevent plane crashes and balcony falls in the first place?
The response offered up by religion is the baffling claim that God works in mysterious ways, or has a "higher plan", which we are not qualified – or even permitted – to inquire after. I prefer American biology professor and renowned internet blogger P.Z. Myers' recent response that such events can only be interpreted as proof that "God is a capricious bastard".
In Australia, most of our recent miracle work has come by way of helpful go-between Mary MacKillop. More astonishing than "miraculous" recoveries from terminal cancer, has been the media coverage of this story.
Since the canonisation campaign really started to take off, some Australian media outlets have simply and unabashedly reported Mary's miracles as if they were irrefutable fact, with the words "allegedly" and "according to" glaringly absent from many stories. Take, for example, this headline: "Woman miraculously cured from inoperable lung cancer by praying to Mary MacKillop". Perhaps even worse though, are uncritical reports that Mary's miracles have been subjected to "exhaustive inquiry" involving "rigorous scientific analysis".
According to the official Mary MacKillop website, the miracle rubber-stamping process involves demonstrating that a person really had an illness, that they are now cured, and the cure was not brought about by medical means. What is missing from all this "stringent" scrutiny by "medical specialists" though is one of the most fundamental tenets of scientific methodology: correlation does not prove causation. To claim that any miracle either recent or historical has been medically or scientifically proven is patently false.
While spontaneous regression from cancer is certainly uncommon, it is also not unknown or undocumented. Just because so-called miracle recipient Kathleen Evans recovered from lung and brain cancer, and she also prayed to Mary MacKillop, does not mean that one thing led to another. By the same logic, I could claim that wearing blue socks brings prosperity since I found $2 behind the couch this morning.
What's, of course, interesting about miracles is that they are always within the realm of the possible. If God really wanted to silence the doubters, why wouldn't he do something truly impressive and unambiguous? Or, as the now-infamous line goes, why doesn't God ever answer the prayers of amputees?
If the church wants to claim that an infrequent, yet still entirely possible, event is a miracle then that's up to them. For me, and I'm sure a lot of others, such statements just serve to remind us about one of the more difficult problems with religious belief – unless we are prepared to hold God directly accountable for all the unfair, undeserved and particularly unspeakable things that happen on his watch, we can't give him credit for the occasional stroke of good fortune. If this seems like a simplistic argument, that's because the hole in the logic just looks so impossibly big from this side.
Likewise, should people want to devote their lives to securing an Aussie sainthood, then that is their business. Personally, I can't help but think that two "confirmed" miracles in the 100-plus years since her death just suggests a kind of stinginess on Mary MacKillop's part.
Instead my objections arise when the church and the media start uncritically reporting "miracles" as news and as fact.
With Mary MacKillop's big day looming in October, let's hope that the coverage of her canonisation shows due respect for reason, science and good sense. In the meantime, can we please banish all this talk of miracles and call survival stories what they really are – cases of good luck.
Original text at: http://www.theage.com.au/opinion/society-and-culture/not-miraculous-just-good-luck-20100716-10dwp.html
Here's a spray of my own
This article was first published in The Age in July 2010
Please, don't adjust your sets - it really is still 2010. But watching TV lately, you could easily be forgiven for thinking you had slipped into a time warp.
For those fortunate enough not to have seen the latest commercial for Brut deodorant, let me paint you the picture.
A woman in a hardly-there, leopard-print bikini is walking down a beach footpath. A guy clocks the oncoming girl and, rather than selfishly ogle her on his own, he gives his mates a nudge so that they can leer at her as a pack. Their approval is clearly evident as they loudly let rip a couple of ''phwoars'' while the camera pans to a shot of her bouncing breasts.
Just when you think it can't get any worse, a barely pubescent boy with a banjo jumps out of a car singing a jingle recommending that if men see an attractive woman on the street they need to "spot and share, because, fellas, it's just what's right". The trio of gawking boys, meanwhile, can hardly contain their vocal enthusiasm as the woman walks past with a shy, but knowing, look.
The message is anything but subtle: women amount to little more than the sum of their breasts and behind, and men have an entitlement - indeed a duty - to ''share them around'' and publicly rate them with their mates.
Other gems of wisdom in the campaign include: ''Never look at another man while eating a banana'' and ''You can drive her car but she can't drive yours'' - each presented in an online video clip in which an attractive girl strips off a T-shirt to reveal a skimpy bikini.
In response to various complaints to the Advertising Standards Bureau, Pharmacare cited a global trend towards ''retrosexual'' culture, loosely defined as the opposite of the ''metrosexual'' tag. Retrosexuals, apparently, are men who embrace their masculinity and yearn to return to a time when ''men were real men'' and women could be given a cheeky pinch on the bum without it turning into a massive legal headache.
According to the Pharmacare and Unilever (responsible for the equally bad Lynx deodorant advertisements) these kinds of ''lads' ads'' are simply using humour and playfulness to sell a product. They claim they only depict women looking "comfortable" and "happy" (read: semi-naked, with coy, moist-lipped smiles). These campaigns manage to walk a fine line, at various times being found to breach the Advertiser Code of Ethics in their portrayal of women, while at other times getting away with questionable content under the defence that they are just being ''ironic'' (the subtext being that objectors are just uptight, joyless wowsers).
But putting aside the contribution that such images make to a view of women as nothing more than a source of entertainment and titillation for men, try as I might I can't find the irony or humour in the tagline - ''still brutally male''. Since when did being a ''real man'' involve violence? And since when was brutality such an aspirational quality that it could be used to entice us into a product choice?
While it would be naive to claim that advertising is solely responsible for shaping our ideologies, such representations do contribute to our collective understanding of what it means to be a man and what it means to be a woman. They reinforce a stereotype of female sexuality in which women's only value and power lies in looking and acting in a very particular way. And they clearly promote a message that ''real men'' know what women are good for - checking out with your mates, getting in to bed, and fetching you a beer afterwards.
But, before you despair, it's not all bad news. Presumably intended to ''go viral'', the Brut Code campaign seems to be a bit of a flop, with only 11 followers on Twitter. Hardly a good return on what must be a hugely expensive exercise covering outdoor advertising, prime-time TV placement and social networking technologies.
Can I suggest then that there might actually be a more fitting use for all those unwanted cans of lads' deodorant out there? Perhaps women should start keeping some of it in their handbags.
That way, the next time some bloke feels the need to comment publicly on her appearance, she can give him an ''ironic'' blast of manly fragrance.
Original text at: http://www.theage.com.au/opinion/society-and-culture/heres-a-spray-of-my-own-this-stuff-really-is-on-the-nose-20100707-100ji.html
Please, don't adjust your sets - it really is still 2010. But watching TV lately, you could easily be forgiven for thinking you had slipped into a time warp.
For those fortunate enough not to have seen the latest commercial for Brut deodorant, let me paint you the picture.
A woman in a hardly-there, leopard-print bikini is walking down a beach footpath. A guy clocks the oncoming girl and, rather than selfishly ogle her on his own, he gives his mates a nudge so that they can leer at her as a pack. Their approval is clearly evident as they loudly let rip a couple of ''phwoars'' while the camera pans to a shot of her bouncing breasts.
Just when you think it can't get any worse, a barely pubescent boy with a banjo jumps out of a car singing a jingle recommending that if men see an attractive woman on the street they need to "spot and share, because, fellas, it's just what's right". The trio of gawking boys, meanwhile, can hardly contain their vocal enthusiasm as the woman walks past with a shy, but knowing, look.
The message is anything but subtle: women amount to little more than the sum of their breasts and behind, and men have an entitlement - indeed a duty - to ''share them around'' and publicly rate them with their mates.
Other gems of wisdom in the campaign include: ''Never look at another man while eating a banana'' and ''You can drive her car but she can't drive yours'' - each presented in an online video clip in which an attractive girl strips off a T-shirt to reveal a skimpy bikini.
In response to various complaints to the Advertising Standards Bureau, Pharmacare cited a global trend towards ''retrosexual'' culture, loosely defined as the opposite of the ''metrosexual'' tag. Retrosexuals, apparently, are men who embrace their masculinity and yearn to return to a time when ''men were real men'' and women could be given a cheeky pinch on the bum without it turning into a massive legal headache.
According to the Pharmacare and Unilever (responsible for the equally bad Lynx deodorant advertisements) these kinds of ''lads' ads'' are simply using humour and playfulness to sell a product. They claim they only depict women looking "comfortable" and "happy" (read: semi-naked, with coy, moist-lipped smiles). These campaigns manage to walk a fine line, at various times being found to breach the Advertiser Code of Ethics in their portrayal of women, while at other times getting away with questionable content under the defence that they are just being ''ironic'' (the subtext being that objectors are just uptight, joyless wowsers).
But putting aside the contribution that such images make to a view of women as nothing more than a source of entertainment and titillation for men, try as I might I can't find the irony or humour in the tagline - ''still brutally male''. Since when did being a ''real man'' involve violence? And since when was brutality such an aspirational quality that it could be used to entice us into a product choice?
While it would be naive to claim that advertising is solely responsible for shaping our ideologies, such representations do contribute to our collective understanding of what it means to be a man and what it means to be a woman. They reinforce a stereotype of female sexuality in which women's only value and power lies in looking and acting in a very particular way. And they clearly promote a message that ''real men'' know what women are good for - checking out with your mates, getting in to bed, and fetching you a beer afterwards.
But, before you despair, it's not all bad news. Presumably intended to ''go viral'', the Brut Code campaign seems to be a bit of a flop, with only 11 followers on Twitter. Hardly a good return on what must be a hugely expensive exercise covering outdoor advertising, prime-time TV placement and social networking technologies.
Can I suggest then that there might actually be a more fitting use for all those unwanted cans of lads' deodorant out there? Perhaps women should start keeping some of it in their handbags.
That way, the next time some bloke feels the need to comment publicly on her appearance, she can give him an ''ironic'' blast of manly fragrance.
Original text at: http://www.theage.com.au/opinion/society-and-culture/heres-a-spray-of-my-own-this-stuff-really-is-on-the-nose-20100707-100ji.html
Some animals are more equal than others
This article was first published in the National Times in July 2010
You could hear the indignation of dog owners reverberate around the country last week. How dare some researcher from the University of South Australia claim that domestic dogs were getter dumber! Not my little Fido, they declared in web comments everywhere, capital letters firmly on to indicate their displeasure. He has a basic understanding of trigonometry and has finished the entire Stieg Larsson trilogy!
Never mind that the research was pretty innocuous, merely suggesting that domesticated dogs had become so reliant on their human owners that they had lost some of the problem solving skills necessary to find food when compared to dingoes. What was interesting was how passionate people get about defending the intelligence of their beloved pets.
People, rightly, love their dogs. The relationship between owner and animal is one of reciprocal companionship, pleasure and love. Judging by the ridiculous clothing range at my local pet shop involving football team colours, bows and ruffles, people are clearly willing to go to great lengths to indulge their canine friends. Silly outfits aside, generally speaking we treat our dogs with kindness and a genuine concern for their quality of life.
But the line we draw between animals we call 'pets' and those that we call 'commodities' is an entirely illusory and disingenuous one. We cannot passionately defend the rights and intelligence of one while deliberately ignoring those same traits in another species just because it suits our plans for dinner.
Animal psychologists have often reported that the intelligence of domestic dogs is on par with a two-year-old child, that they are capable of understanding up to 250 words and gestures, and able to perform simple mathematical calculations. Pigs, according to research from Penn State University, are smarter than the average three-year-old child, capable of abstract representation and outsmarting even primates on video game tests involving joy sticks.
So why is it that we bristle with horror at the very thought of keeping our pet dog continually pregnant, confined inside a shed to an individual metal stall so tiny that even turning around is impossible, on a concrete floor with no straw or bedding whatsoever. And yet, the fact that the majority of sows in Australia are farmed in this way raises little more than a resigned sigh from most people. These animals, after all, are our bacon and ham – not our clever, cuddly, idiosyncratic dogs; never mind that they are equally, if not more, capable of feeling pain, stress and distress. The difference between our reaction to one species and another being forcibly confined to a continual life of cruelty can only be explained by a process Jonathan Safran Foer recently described as, “conscious forgetting”.
It is good news then that earlier this month Tasmania announced a phasing out of this cruel farming practice. We can only hope that the rest of the country will join Tasmania, along with countries like the UK, in banning such inhumane farming practices.
But no real improvements in animal welfare will be achieved until we reconsider our traditional notions that some animals are worthy of protection from pain and suffering, while others are not. We need to recognise the fictitious nature of the division we have created between animals as pets and animals as food. We need to reconnect the product we see our plates with the animal it came from.
Ghandi said that you can judge the greatness of a nation and its moral progress by the way that it treats its animals. In terms of our love for our dogs and other companion animals, it is clear that we could be judged very favourably indeed. However, when it comes to our treatment of 'food' animals, I don't think we are in line for a glowing report card at all. Surely it is time that we made the conscious effort each time we visit the supermarket or order dinner in a restaurant to think about what is more important – satisfying our palates, or satisfying our conscience?
Original text at: http://www.theage.com.au/opinion/society-and-culture/some-animals-really-are-more-equal-than-others-20100702-zto2.html
You could hear the indignation of dog owners reverberate around the country last week. How dare some researcher from the University of South Australia claim that domestic dogs were getter dumber! Not my little Fido, they declared in web comments everywhere, capital letters firmly on to indicate their displeasure. He has a basic understanding of trigonometry and has finished the entire Stieg Larsson trilogy!
Never mind that the research was pretty innocuous, merely suggesting that domesticated dogs had become so reliant on their human owners that they had lost some of the problem solving skills necessary to find food when compared to dingoes. What was interesting was how passionate people get about defending the intelligence of their beloved pets.
People, rightly, love their dogs. The relationship between owner and animal is one of reciprocal companionship, pleasure and love. Judging by the ridiculous clothing range at my local pet shop involving football team colours, bows and ruffles, people are clearly willing to go to great lengths to indulge their canine friends. Silly outfits aside, generally speaking we treat our dogs with kindness and a genuine concern for their quality of life.
But the line we draw between animals we call 'pets' and those that we call 'commodities' is an entirely illusory and disingenuous one. We cannot passionately defend the rights and intelligence of one while deliberately ignoring those same traits in another species just because it suits our plans for dinner.
Animal psychologists have often reported that the intelligence of domestic dogs is on par with a two-year-old child, that they are capable of understanding up to 250 words and gestures, and able to perform simple mathematical calculations. Pigs, according to research from Penn State University, are smarter than the average three-year-old child, capable of abstract representation and outsmarting even primates on video game tests involving joy sticks.
So why is it that we bristle with horror at the very thought of keeping our pet dog continually pregnant, confined inside a shed to an individual metal stall so tiny that even turning around is impossible, on a concrete floor with no straw or bedding whatsoever. And yet, the fact that the majority of sows in Australia are farmed in this way raises little more than a resigned sigh from most people. These animals, after all, are our bacon and ham – not our clever, cuddly, idiosyncratic dogs; never mind that they are equally, if not more, capable of feeling pain, stress and distress. The difference between our reaction to one species and another being forcibly confined to a continual life of cruelty can only be explained by a process Jonathan Safran Foer recently described as, “conscious forgetting”.
It is good news then that earlier this month Tasmania announced a phasing out of this cruel farming practice. We can only hope that the rest of the country will join Tasmania, along with countries like the UK, in banning such inhumane farming practices.
But no real improvements in animal welfare will be achieved until we reconsider our traditional notions that some animals are worthy of protection from pain and suffering, while others are not. We need to recognise the fictitious nature of the division we have created between animals as pets and animals as food. We need to reconnect the product we see our plates with the animal it came from.
Ghandi said that you can judge the greatness of a nation and its moral progress by the way that it treats its animals. In terms of our love for our dogs and other companion animals, it is clear that we could be judged very favourably indeed. However, when it comes to our treatment of 'food' animals, I don't think we are in line for a glowing report card at all. Surely it is time that we made the conscious effort each time we visit the supermarket or order dinner in a restaurant to think about what is more important – satisfying our palates, or satisfying our conscience?
Original text at: http://www.theage.com.au/opinion/society-and-culture/some-animals-really-are-more-equal-than-others-20100702-zto2.html
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)