Over the past 15 years, I have witnessed university students’ shrinking patience for reading – especially for reading “long” books. Increasingly, students also opt for audiobooks. While speeding up the reading experience, these fundamentally change what is noticed.

The neuroscientist Maryanne Wolf suggests many students no longer have the “cognitive patience” to read long books due to the complexities of thought and sustained attention required.

One explanation for this shift is the dominance of digital technology in our daily lives, which has rewired our brains for surface-level scanning and multitasking, weakening our capability for prolonged attention. Another is our culture of instant gratification.

Some studies into the “screen inferiority effect” suggest when we read on paper (rather than on screens such as smartphones) the brain often processes more deeply and comprehension is better. Memory and information recall are also stronger.

So where does this leave the classics?

Millions of Australians, both children and adults, struggle with literacy.

In this series, we explore the challenges of reading in an age of smartphones and social media – and ask experts how we can become better readers.

Many books considered “classics” are long. Masterpieces such as Middlemarch or Les Misérables might seem intimidating because in physical form they resemble door stops and they often have complex, demanding language and long, convoluted sentences.

But reading the classics can deliver cognitive, social, emotional and even ethical benefits, helping us strengthen habits of thoughtful attention and develop the skills to communicate with clarity and empathy.

Extending our attention spans increases our ability to connect thoughts and ideas, challenges memory and recall and perhaps helps us attend more patiently to our own lives and the lives of others. In reading Robinson Crusoe, for instance, we share in the patience of the title character, stranded on a desert island. We, too, pay careful heed to details and signs in the world around him.

The complex language of classics can help us discern meaning amid a multitude of voices. When working through multiple sentence clauses and the layered sentences of a meaningful paragraph we need to suspend judgement until we have the fuller picture. Following complex and interwoven narratives also helps us to understand human complexity in real life.

Here are some tips for reading the classics – and some shorter ones to start with.

1. Follow your instincts

Find out which classic novels influenced the development of your favourite genre and you might find a natural fit. My brilliant English teacher at school, Mr Taylor, knew I loved detective fiction, so he kept recommending Wilkie Collins’s The Moonstone as an early example of crime mystery. Eventually taking his advice, I loved it and followed it with Collins’s other classic, The Woman in White.

2. Remove distractions

It can help to set aside dedicated reading time, such as 20–30 minutes a day in which phones, smartwatches and other devices are out of the way. There is an added benefit: research by Mindlab International has shown reading for only six minutes reduces stress levels by 68%.

3. Make a note of memorable sentences

You don’t need a teacher to notice powerful moments or startling language. For example, Charles Dickens’s opening to A Tale of Two Cities (“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times …”) famously captures the coexistence of extremes in the world – of hope and despair, of wisdom and foolishness. Dickens has crafted an enduring truth of human experience.

4. Ask yourself questions

Why is this considered a classic? Why do I dislike this particular character? Why does this scene make me feel uncomfortable? Usually, the author wants you to consider why things were written the way they were (rather than, for example, with a different vocabulary or narrative voice). Asking questions deepens comprehension.

5. Embrace the unknown

If longer sentences or old-fashioned language trip you up, go over them again and then keep going. Kindles offer instant definitions at the touch of the screen but sometimes looking up every word in the dictionary can interfere with the opportunity to deduce meaning from context.

6. Be ready to laugh

Some classic novels are downright funny. I am currently reading Anthony Trollope’s The Warden. The sentences may be long, but they are almost always punctuated with hilarious insights into the hypocrisies of human beings and the naming rights the author deploys are childishly funny.

7. Read aloud

Classic novels were often serialised and read aloud in instalments in families or community groups. As a teenager, some of my most memorable early forays into the classics were shared with a dear cousin while staying with our grandparents in the Blue Mountains, when we would read aloud to each other on wintry, windy nights by the fireplace. Here, I first encountered Daphne Du Maurier’s evocative West Country mystery Rebecca and Dodie Smith’s eccentric and funny I Capture the Castle. Begin your adventure into the classics by reading aloud with a friend or in a book club.

8. Don’t feel too daunted

Remember that getting started with the story, getting to know the writer’s style, gradually piecing together the world of the novel can be the hardest stage. Take your time, be patient and persist. The further you get into a novel like War and Peace, the easier it is to continue because you simply want to know what happens.

Here are three short classics worth the journey.

George Eliot’s Silas Marner

A heartwarming study of the “inward life” of Silas, the weaver, exiled from his fellowship of narrow religious sectarians. He finds purpose in life, first in money and then in the fatherly love he develops for Eppie, the child who wanders into his home. Silas Marner is an accessible taster of Eliot’s longer experiments exploring emotion and “fellow feeling”.

James Joyce’s Dubliners

This book is, strictly speaking, a collection of 12 short stories. Together they form a masterpiece of brutal Anglo-Irish realism interrupted by moments of epiphany. The book contends with questions of action and inaction, betrayal, political idealism and pragmatism. The story of Eveline, who is on the cusp of eloping with the “very kind, manly, and open-hearted” Frank on a night-boat to Buenos Aires to escape the ill-treatment of her ageing, abusive father, leaves the reader astonished by the sudden departure in the final lines from her earlier rational self-analysis.

Virginia Woolf’s Mrs Dalloway

An experimental novel set on one summer’s day in London, 1923. The socialite Clarissa Dalloway prepares a party but the absence of any chapter breaks in the book creates for the reader a sense of the stifling impact of war that still lingers over British family, social and political life. In the trauma of returned soldier Septimus Smith we read an early fictional exploration of shell shock.

Johanna Harris 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.

Words escape you. Your skin tingles. You are overwhelmed by how small and insignificant you really are, bursting with a feeling that is hard to define. This is awe.

Awe is a complex emotional state we experience when the enormity of what we see or feel transcends what we understand. It can be positive or negative.

Astronauts report this feeling when confronted with the vastness of space and Earth’s puny place within it. This experience – sometimes known as the “overview effect” – can change forever how people who’ve seen Earth from afar think about life here.

But you don’t have to travel to the moon and back to experience awe. Beautiful art, a walk in nature or dancing in a crowd can give you this overwhelming, transcendent feeling.

Neuroscience suggests experiences of awe can be good for your mental health – when they’re positive. So, when is awe good for us? And what exactly is going on in the brain?

Awe can be both positive and negative

Positive awe is what probably comes to mind when most people think of awe. If you’ve ever been moved by something immense and beautiful – such as a majestic mountain or sunset – you’ve likely experienced this sense of calm and wonder.

However, psychologists sometimes describe awe as an experience at the boundary of pleasure and fear. Both pleasure and fear can result in similar bodily arousal – racing heartbeat, goosebumps and chills – but the way we interpret this as an emotion will depend on the context. It can be the same when we experience something vast and overwhelming.

Negative awe may occur when we feel threatened or a lack of control, such as during an earthquake or terrorist attack.

Imagine standing in front of a tsunami and seeing it come towards you. You may feel powerless and filled with dread, while also overcome with a sense of insignificance in the face of nature’s majesty and power. This is the complexity of awe.

Trying to make sense of the unexpected

Our brains are constantly making predictions and integrating our experiences into what we already know.

We tend to “filter out” sensory signals that match our expectations, to instead focus on being ready to respond to information that is surprising.

New information is processed by parts of the brain that help to fit it within our pre-existing understanding of the world, knowledge frameworks known as schemata (or schemas).

According to schema theory, we either assimilate this new information into an existing schema, or have to change the schema to fit the new knowledge.

Not all new experiences will evoke awe. It occurs when we experience both the inability to assimilate an experience into current knowledge and a sense of vastness.

For example, you might have a schema for “waterfall” – a mental framework of what you expect (rocks, water, beautiful). But confronted by the roar of Victoria Falls, its size and velocity, the way the sun hits the spray, you experience awe; it’s unlike any waterfall you have ever seen and is beyond your expectations.

What happens in the brain when we experience awe?

When we feel awe, activity decreases in the brain regions associated with internal or self-referential processing. This network is what drives our memory and understanding of our place in the world.

When activity in these regions decreases, there is a shift away from yourself towards processing external information. This may explain why you tend to “feel small” when you experience awe.

But positive and negative awe may have different effects on our nervous system.

Negative awe is associated with sympathetic nervous system activity, which drives our “fight or flight” response.

Positive awe, however, is associated with increased parasympathetic activity. This reduces heart rate and arousal, which is why we may feel calmer.

How awe can be good for us

If you’re someone who seeks out experiences bigger than yourself – hiking for breathtaking views, enjoying meditation, art or losing yourself in the roar of a crowd – you probably already know awe can make you feel fantastic.

Now, research is exploring why. Emerging evidence suggests awe may be good for mental health and wellbeing in five ways:

1. improving your nervous system’s ability to relax
2. diminishing self-focus
3. making us more likely to help other people
4. connecting us to others
5. increasing sense of meaning.

More work needs to be done before we can say whether awe results in long-lasting benefits. But purposefully seeking awe may help you feel less stressed, more satisfied and happier.

Finding awe in the everyday

What evokes awe will likely be different for different people. But we know some things are more likely to induce this complex feeling, such as experiences of art, music and natural environments that move us.

Many people also find awe in collective experiences, especially those involving shared music or movement, or religious rituals. These help us transcend ourselves and become part of something bigger. Contemplating inspiring and complex “big” intellectual ideas by learning something new may also have this effect.

So, can you actively cultivate awe? One way to start is by taking “awe walks”. These involve walking with the intention of noticing beauty, vastness and wonder. Connecting with your own sense of spirituality – even if you are not religious – can also evoke awe.

In many cases, the vast and overwhelming experience of awe can start with simple acts of noticing.

Nikki-Anne Wilson has previously received funding from the Australian Association of Gerontology and the UNSW Ageing Futures Institute.

Music superstar Taylor Swift has applied to trademark her voice and image to head off the threat of AI-generated impersonations. But the problem extends much further than pop royalty.

Anyone can be manipulated by the powerful technology: AI-created videos of you endorsing a politician you despise, images on social media of you in a skin-tight Spiderwoman outfit you never wore, a simulation of your voice allowing users to indulge their sexual fantasies … all possible.

The rapid development of deepfakes is amplifying calls for better legal protections for individuals’ images and likenesses. The notorious rollout of new picture-editing capabilities by X’s Grok chatbot in late 2025 only added to their urgency.

And the law has begun to respond. Australia now criminalises creating and sharing sexually explicit material online, including digitally created material.

In the US, the 2025 Take it Down Act prohibits non-consensual publication of intimate depictions of individuals, including “digital forgeries”.

In New Zealand, proposed amendments to the Crimes Act and the Harmful Digital Communications Act will improve criminal law responses to sexual deepfakes.

But another legal front is opening up, too: victims are turning to tort law. Part of the civil (rather than criminal) law, tort claims do not require the state to act. People can seek damages and injunctions to shut down or block access to the harmful and humiliating material.

Misappropriation of personality

Some countries, including Canada, South Africa and India, recognise a common law tort of misappropriation of personality.

This targets unauthorised use of a person’s name, likeness and voice, usually for commercial purposes. About half of the states in the US recognise some version of this tort.

Now, the Indian courts are taking the lead in extending the tort to include deepfakes.

Bollywood stars Aishwarya Rai Bachchan and Anil Kapoor have used tort law to shut down websites and other online platforms where deepfakes have been posted – including fake pornographic videos and chatbots.

Elsewhere, including in New Zealand, the United Kingdom and Australia, the law is much more piecemeal because the common law does not recognise a specific tort of misappropriation of personality.

This means protections need to be cobbled together from more established legal claims, including defamation, breach of confidence and and “passing off”.

A court battle is currently raging in the UK over whether a digitally-assisted resurrection of Peter Cushing in the 2016 Star Wars movie Rogue One is a form of “unjust enrichment”. (Cushing starred in a previous Star Wars episode but died in 1994.)

The right to live with dignity

In the Bollywood cases, the courts explained that deepfakes affect victims’ “right to live with dignity”. The judges linked these tort principles to constitutional protections for “life and liberty”.

Canadian judges have said similar things, linking protections for individuals’ personality to rights in the Canadian Charter of Rights.

Human dignity – essentially the right not to be a means to others’ ends – is at the core of these protections and it recognises the inherent worth of all people. Deepfakes cut right across these fundamental legal commitments.

In the case of Anil Kapoor, the court acknowledged additional harms beyond those he suffered. The legal protections were also for “the sake of his family and friends who would not like to see his image, name and other elements being misused, especially for such tarnishing and negative use”.

This recognises an emerging legal concern with connections between people, not only with the rights of individuals. It also aligns with the increasing role of Māori tikanga (law and custom) in New Zealand’s common law.

Another welcome development in the United States is proposed legislation that would enable non-celebrities, not just the rich and famous, to bring damages claims and seek injunctions against deepfakes.

A bill introduced to Congress in April would extend protections to US citizens’ “DNA sequences or traits” that could be used to replicate or misuse identity in commercial applications.

Protecting victims of deepfakes will require an array of legal responses: criminal, civil, technological and regulatory – including trademark law, as Taylor Swift is using.

Unfortunately, few of us have the financial means to bring a torts claim. Even so, the emphasis on human dignity in the Bollywood cases reminds us of what’s at stake: the inherent worth of all people – celebrities and non-celebrities alike.

Graeme Austin 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.

Everyone on earth takes a private vote by pressing a red or blue button. If more than 50% of people press the blue button, everyone survives. If less than 50% of people press the blue button, only people who pressed the red button survive. Which button would you press? BE HONEST.

This question is the latest thought experiment to set off waves of controversy on social media, following classic examples such as the trolley problem and the prisoner’s dilemma.

Most people think the choice is extremely obvious. However, not everyone agrees whether the obvious answer is blue or red – and they want to argue about it.

What’s going on here? From the point of view of philosophy and game theory, the question shows two different intuitions and views of decision-making with starkly contrasting results. And the very popularity of the question highlights the fraught existential stakes many of us feel in modern life.

Red or blue? It’s complicated

The case for red seems simple. If more than 50% of people press the blue button, red pressers survive. If not, red pressers survive anyway. So basic self-interest leads to red.

In game theory, this choice leads to what is known as the Nash equilibrium. This is the best choice for a participant looking to advance their own interests.

However, in several polls, the majority of respondents pick blue. At first glance, this may seem irrational and self-destructive.

Why would anyone stake their own life on the collective decisions of others? This is where, as with any good thought experiment, the real value of the provocation shows itself, as we ponder the “why” behind the choice.

Blue pressers might proffer a diverse set of responses: “I’m worried my family and friends might pick blue and I want them to survive”; “I’m concerned people might find out if I pick red and judge me”; “If I picked red I would feel responsible for the potential deaths of others”; “I believe humanity is inherently good”, and so on.

Such responses hint at what game theorists call the Pareto-optimal outcome, where the least potential damage is done by one’s choice.

Why now?

What’s also interesting is why such a thought experiment has gone viral in 2026. In any society, what cultural theorist Raymond Williams called a “structure of feeling” holds sway: an affective atmosphere, a set of moods and emotions that are most visible in its symbolic output.

We can here point to popular culture. Shows such as Netflix’s hit series Squid Game, the glut of Survivor-style reality TV shows, the digital game Among Us and the Hunger Games books and films rely on similar setups.

The fundamental questions tend to remain the same. Who can be trusted? How do incentives change our moral stance? Do systems reward altruism or selfishness?

More than at any time in human history, we are interdependent on a global scale: politically, economically, militarily, technologically, culturally. When a domino falls on one side of the planet, we now see it, hear it and feel it on the other side.

This engenders a distinct sense of vulnerability and precarity. We are bombarded every day with information from all around that can stress, enrage, and exhaust us.

Why here?

The specific formulation of the thought experiment, condensed down into a simple binary choice, is also perfect for social media, where hot takes dominate and extremity is rewarded by the algorithm: yes or no, right or wrong, gold-and-white dress or blue-and-black.

It’s also where similar questions are often asked of influencers, who might sacrifice their own moral viewpoints in pursuit of attention and visibility. It’s a perfect quick moral apocalypse for a doomscrolling public.

Another useful idea here is the “Promethean gap” described in 1956 by philosopher of technology Günther Anders. The idea is that the more technological capacity grows, the less humanity can comprehend emotionally, intellectually and morally.

We have, in a sense, outsourced too much of ourselves to technology. In doing so, we have let some crucial competencies atrophy, and so the gap grows.

Under rapidly advancing technology, our capacity for action exceeds our capacities for moral imagination.

This fear is readily apparent in the thought experiment: the world ended at the push of a button. By comparison, the stakes of the prisoner’s dilemma or the trolley problem seem positively quaint.

Steven Conway 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.

The Chinese-owned firm that operates the Port of Darwin isn’t happy about the federal government’s push to return it to an Australian owner. Now, the situation is escalating, with the stage set for an international legal showdown.

The Albanese government has been in talks with Landbridge Group, whose parent company is headquartered in Shandong province, China, to return the port to an Australian owner, following an election promise.

But in late April, Ye Cheng, the Chinese billionaire who founded Landbridge, initiated proceedings against Australia at a World Bank tribunal, the International Centre for Settlement of Investment Disputes. The government has said it will defend the claim.

This case may take years to resolve. But it’s not the only example of a Chinese company taking on a national government, claiming to be unfairly excluded based on national security or other concerns.

Right now, many of these cases are still pending. But these rulings could have major financial implications if they provide a route for Chinese firms to demand compensation from governments for any losses caused by political decisions.

How we got here

Back in 2015, Landbridge secured a 99-year lease to operate the port from the Northern Territory government, in a deal worth A$506 million.

The decision was not opposed at the time by the Turnbull federal government, although US President Barack Obama raised concerns, with US marines on rotation through the port.

Other groups also raised concerns about leasing the strategically important port to a Chinese firm. In the lead-up to the last federal election, both Labor and the Coalition committed to returning the port to an Australian owner if elected.

In a statement on the new proceedings, Landbridge said the move to return the port to an Australian owner was “discriminatory”. The company said it was “inconsistent with Australia’s obligations” under a major bilateral trade pact, the China-Australia Free Trade Agreement.

In a statement, the federal minister for transport and infrastructure, Catherine King, said the government was “disappointed” by the decision to lodge a case. King said the government has been in “good faith discussions” to reach a “mutually acceptable deal” with Landbridge, and intended to continue these discussions.

An international investment umpire

The International Centre for Settlement of Investment Disputes was established in 1966.

Headquartered in Washington, this body exists to settle disputes between international investors and nation-states under bilateral investment treaties. This includes the China-Australia Free Trade Agreement at the centre of this case.

The centre provides an independent arbitration panel for each dispute, not including the two countries involved.

The panel ultimately decides whether there has been unfair treatment. If so, it rules on whether a government’s proposed action should be halted or reversed, or if a company deserves compensation.

Pending cases

Since 2021, 11 cases have been brought by Chinese companies against different governments around the world. Eight of these are pending.

Many of these cases centre on purely economic claims of being treated unfairly. For example, in one case, a Chinese-owned lithium company is seeking compensation following the Mexican government’s decision to nationalise its lithium mining industry and expropriate the company’s planned mine in Mexico.

But others, like the Landbridge case, centre on claims a government has overreached by excluding a company based on national security concerns.

One of the most high-profile is a case launched by Huawei against the Swedish government in 2022. This came after Sweden banned Huawei and ZTE (another Chinese telecom company) from participating in the country’s 5G rollout, citing national security concerns.

Huawei is seeking compensation of US$569 million (about A$790 million) for the market losses it claims will result from this exclusion.

If the tribunal finds in favour of Huawei in this case, it could lead to further actions launched against countries (including Australia) where Huawei was banned. It could also impact other Chinese companies that have lost markets due to national security concerns.

The question of fairness

In its statement on the new proceedings, Landbridge said it had won the lease through a “fair, open and competitive process”.

It said the government’s own reviews did not find a national security risk.

Landbridge is likely to argue this means the government’s decision to exclude them is arbitrary. They are also likely to argue a forced sale would bring a lower price, and the government therefore owes the company compensation.

Compensation, if awarded, can include not just the current value of the port lease but also potential future earnings that have been forfeited due to a forced sale.

The rules-based order

The increase in Chinese companies using panels like the World Bank’s to resolve their disputes demonstrates their commitment to this international institution that was established with US and Australian support to enforce the rules-based international trading system.

These disputes may not prevent governments from making decisions based on national security. But they may cause them to think twice about the financial implications of those decisions.

Colin Hawes is a research fellow at the UTS Australia-China Relations Institute.

Over the decades, journalists and activist groups have revealed horrendous animal cruelty using covert recordings. A 2011 Four Corners investigation of abuse of Australian cattle in Indonesia is among the most well-known examples.

Many attempts to record agricultural operations have involved activists breaking the law to do it. Court cases are not uncommon.

But the most recent case, being heard by the High Court of Australia this week, is different. In this instance, an abattoir has been awarded copyright ownership of footage shot by animal welfare activists. As a result, the footage, which the activists say depicts animal cruelty, can’t be made public.

In the case, Farm Transparency International v The Game Meats Company of Australia, the court will consider whether the activists’ illegal conduct disqualifies the future use and release of the footage.

The proceedings could be highly significant for both humans and animals, with potential implications for press freedom and the public’s right to know.

Trespassing for transparency

Founded in 2014, the Australian animal advocacy organisation, Farm Transparency Project, seeks to “force industry transparency and educate consumers” about routine operations in the animal agriculture industry.

Controversially, this has involved members of the organisation trespassing on commercial properties.

In 2024, several Farm Transparency employees gained access to a Victorian slaughterhouse operated by the Game Meats Company on seven occasions. These trespasses involved the installation of cameras in the ceilings of Game Meats Company’s goat slaughter sites.

The footage of slaughtering processes at the abattoir was then used to produce a short film. Farm Transparency alleges the vision depicts breaches of animal welfare laws.

As the Federal Court judge observed in the initial case ruling, some of the goats “are shown being manhandled after escaping from a restraint apparatus” while others “appear not to be unconscious (or, perhaps, wholly unconscious) at the point that they are [killed]”.

Game Meats has denied any wrongdoing.

The case before the High Court

Copyright is a type of intellectual property right founded on a person’s skill and labour. Under the Copyright Act, the general position is that copyright vests with the footage-maker. In this case, that’s Farm Transparency.

But in a novel legal argument, Game Meats has argued copyright should be assigned to them.

This was first considered by a single Federal Court judge. The judge concluded “the court should proceed with caution”, suggesting that assigning copyright to Game Meats was better left to a higher court.

That’s what happened when the ruling was appealed. Three Federal Court judges found copyright of the footage and film should be assigned to Game Meats via a trust because of the circumstances in which the footage was obtained.

In reaching its decision, the appeal court drew analogies between the response to Farm Transparency’s “surreptitious intrusion” on Game Meats’ property, and the need to return property obtained by a “fraudster or thief”.

Farm Transparency appealed against that decision. The case will now be heard by the High Court, which will determine who should hold the copyright.

Private dispute, profound implications

This is not the first time a case involving Farm Transparency has been brought before the High Court.

In 2021, the organisation challenged New South Wales’ Surveillance Devices Act, arguing that it impermissibly infringed on the freedom of political communication recognised in the Australian Constitution. It was unsuccessful.

The current High Court appeal has potentially far-reaching implications. In its written submissions to the High Court, Farm Transparency argues the Federal Court’s evaluation of the “moral calibre” of the group’s conduct is “transformative of legal relations not just between the parties but the world”.

The Human Rights Law Centre and the Alliance for Journalists’ Freedom are making advisory submissions as “friends of the court”.

Both groups are concerned about how the High Court decision may impact the legitimate work of journalists and whistleblowers.

The case is also an example of “ag-gag” (agricultural gag) laws. Ag-gag refers to laws whose common feature is to “keep evidence of the unflattering, and sometimes criminal, practices of farms and slaughterhouses from public view”.

Such laws are increasingly being used in Australia to curtail the speech of animal advocates who seek to expose conditions in animal production industries.

The Game Meats Company’s case is the first time copyright law is serving as a form of ag-gag. Using copyright law in this way prevents footage of alleged harm to farmed animals being shared with the public.

Ends justifying the means?

The activities of Farm Transparency’s predecessor, “Aussie Farms”, were a key driver for a Victorian parliamentary inquiry into the potential impacts of animal activism on the state’s agriculture industries.

At the inquiry, farmers and industry groups expressed concern about being targeted, and at times intimidated, by activists.

At the same time, Farm Transparency has done much to share the realities of animal agriculture with the Australian public. The organisation produced the 2018 award-winning documentary, Dominion. It featured covert footage primarily from Australian animal agriculture operations, shot by members of Farm Transparency.

In 2023, Farm Transparency’s covert filming of pigs being suffocated to death with carbon dioxide gas formed the basis of a high-profile media report, and sparked another parliamentary inquiry into pig welfare in Victoria.

If the High Court accepts Game Meats’ argument, similar releases in the future could be prevented by law.

Uncertainty abounds

Animal welfare is an issue Australians care about. The way to ensure strong animal welfare in the animal agriculture industry is certainly not to encourage trespass or covert filming on private property.

However, the reality is that farmed animal welfare is woefully under-regulated. Scandals surrounding the mistreatment of animals are regularly uncovered by activists, journalists and whistleblowers, rather than in the course of standard compliance processes.

So the High Court must now decide whether the law should allow for such vision to be made public, potentially uncovering grave suffering, or keep it safely out of sight.

Lev Bromberg previously received a Commonwealth Government Research Training Program Scholarship. He is affiliated with the Australasian Animal Law Teachers and Researchers Association.

Serrin Rutledge-Prior received a Commonwealth Government Research Training Program Scholarship during her doctoral studies, and previously volunteered for the Animal Defenders Office, a non-profit legal service.