A simple stroll along a beach on a windy day can be mesmerising. It’s easy to spend hours watching waves crash and sea foam fizz across the sand, but this beautiful yet fleeting phenomenon can also give us clues about the health of the ocean.

Sea foam is produced by the turbulence caused by the force of the waves and the wind which, when combined with organic matter (mainly plankton), forms a mixture of water and air bubbles that clump together and rise to the surface as foam.

This colloidal dispersion – the name for non-soluble particles suspended in a gas or liquid – occurs because organic matter reduces surface tension, a physicochemical property whereby liquids behave as if they were covered by a thin elastic membrane.

In order to mix substances that cannot be dissolved – such as water and air or water and oil – surface tension must be reduced by surfactants (chemical compounds with both hydrophilic and hydrophobic parts) which act as a bridge. This creates an interface between the two components, allowing liquids to mix with gas and solids, or with other liquids, such as water and organic matter.

This property is essential for, for example, ensuring the bioavailability of certain organic compounds in agrochemicals, for biodegrading oil spills, and for remediating soil contaminated with fuel. On a more mundane level, it’s also the mechanism that helps us wash stubborn grease stains out of clothes.

Leer más: How does soap keep you clean? A chemist explains the science of soap

What sea foam tells us

Sunlight is essential for life on Earth, and consists of three main components: visible light, infrared (heat) and ultraviolet (UV) radiation. The main characteristics of light are its wavelength and frequency.

Visible light (with a wavelength of approximately 400 to 700 nanometres) is a small portion of the spectrum that the human eye can perceive. When light strikes an object, its surface absorbs certain wavelengths and reflects others. Only the reflected wavelengths can be seen by the eye, meaning only those colours are perceived by the brain.

The colour of the sea changes due to the selective absorption of light by the water, which is influenced by its chemical composition, marine life, and weather conditions. Water is, of course, transparent, but when there is a large volume of it, light absorption across the spectrum increases, resulting in a blue hue.

In sea foam, air bubbles scatter and reflect light in all directions without absorbing it, which explains why it appears white to the eye. It is, importantly, distinct from the colour “seafoam” in art or fashion, which is usually a muted blend of green and blue.

When it comes to sea health, white foam that disappears almost instantly is a clear sign of a healthy ecosystem. Conversely, dense foam that sticks around, a dark (typically brownish) colour, or an unpleasant odour are symptoms of either chemical pollution (from agricultural fertilisers, or industrial or urban runoff) or biological pollution.

One example of biological pollution is the recurring episodes of foam formation on the beaches of South Australia. During February and March in 2025 and 2026 (summer in the southern hemisphere), algal blooms covered swaths of the coast in foam, with terrible consequences for the health of animals and people alike.

If we look after the planet and avoid polluting it, it will continue to provide us with healthy environments and scenes of extraordinary beauty. But failure to do so won’t just harm nature and, by extension, our own health – it will also lead to the disappearance of things like the healthy, effervescent sea foam that we know, love and enjoy.

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Gumersindo Feijoo Costa no recibe salario, ni ejerce labores de consultoría, ni posee acciones, ni recibe financiación de ninguna compañía u organización que pueda obtener beneficio de este artículo, y ha declarado carecer de vínculos relevantes más allá del cargo académico citado.

Across the UK, working‑class boys are navigating an unprecedented convergence of pressures. There are entrenched gaps between working-class boys and their peers in their levels of attainment at every stage of education.

Often, however, the solutions for addressing this gap in attainment have roots in assumptions and stereotypes. These tend towards positioning working-class boys as somehow suffering from an innate deficiency: apathy, laziness or a lack of ambition for their future careers and employment. The evidence does not back these stereotypes up.

Our research has focused on understanding the experiences of these boys. In 2023, we carried out research that used creative activities to explore what being a young man meant for them. We found that some of the young men felt the need to create protective identities linked to aggression, emotional suppression and educational disinterest at school to avoid harm. For them, being a boy who expressed themselves was a risky enterprise. One boy said:

I feel like you know the bullying and torment would definitely go up quite a bit for, I guess, you know, something stupid like writing how I feel on a page.

We worked with young men who were open and able to engage in challenging and complex discussions, but who made it clear to us that doing this in their own educational environments would potentially lead to social, emotional and potentially even physical harm.

We saw young men with deep rooted aspirations they were often afraid to express. We did not see problematic boys in need of disciplining, but a need to understand and address the relational and structural conditions which shape their behaviour.

Lacking resources – and evidence

In almost every public debate about boys, whether it be attainment gaps, misogyny or youth violence, teachers are positioned as society’s key defence. The government’s recent violence against women and girls strategy, for instance, foregrounds the role of educators in shaping boys’ attitudes and preventing future harm.

But it assumes that schools possess the frameworks, training, and relational bandwidth to meet these challenges. Crucially, it also assumes that we truly understand the daily dynamics between teachers and working‑class boys.

The reality is that we don’t. The last major study of teacher perceptions was over 20 years ago. This decades-wide gap in evidence and understanding is a void which, our findings demonstrate, has been filled by stereotype and assumption. Rather than a focus on what boys need to achieve at school, there’s a risk that they are seen, both within schools and by the general public, as perpetrators of misogyny and violent behaviour in waiting – that they are an issue that needs to be targeted.

We’ve recently carried out a national survey of over 500 teachers, exploring their perceptions of boys and young men in the classroom. It was followed up with in-depth focus groups with 40 working-class boys aged from 12 to 16, as well as 17 teachers.

We found that teachers showed a high level of confidence in their ability to model dignity, respect and active listening in the classroom. However, the perspectives of young men painted a far more inconsistent picture. It pointed toward two significant disconnects.

First, that respect is defined very differently by educators and the boys and young men they taught. Around 90% of teachers reported that they consistently modelled dignity and respect in the classroom. But when speaking with the boys, often they described the respect they received from teachers as conditional, inconsistent or transactional. The expectation was that respect for teachers came from their position of authority and respect was only paid to the young men in return for theirs.

Second, that masculinity, emotion and online influence are poorly understood and rarely discussed. When asked, just a third of the educators we surveyed could recall a meaningful conversation with a male student about masculinity. Many felt uncomfortable and unprepared to have conversations like this. From the boys’ side, they described significant emotional needs which were often unmet, limited safe spaces to discuss feelings, and punitive responses to distress.

How teachers perceive working-class boys, and the opportunities they have to discuss masculinity at school, aren’t the only factors affecting academic attainment for these young men. Poverty, for instance, has a significant impact on early attainment and a lasting impact on educational success. But our research showed that when reflective, safe, judgement-free conversations occurred, the boys and young men responded positively. It demonstrates that working‑class boys engage, reflect and thrive in educational contexts where they feel respected, listened to and understood.

On the other hand, though, the research suggests that teachers are influenced by wider societal narratives. Within the study many educators defaulted to talking about misogyny or Andrew Tate even when not asked directly. This suggests a narrow lens of focus on issues related to masculinity, shaped by wider social anxieties.

The boys and young men consistently faced contradictory expectations about who they should be. They reported being told to “open up”, yet faced being penalised or ridiculed when they did. They were told to avoid harmful online content, yet weren’t provided any space to engage in critical, deliberate conversations about what they had seen.

Without that space for conversation on which to build, it is our fear that efforts to tackle misogyny, disengagement or disparities in educational outcomes will continue to fall short.

Jon Rainford conducts research for Boys Impact

Alex Blower is affiliated with Arts University Bournemouth and Boys' Impact.

Podcasting has become one of our most intimate cultural forms. We often listen alone, through headphones, to voices that guide us through complex or deeply personal stories. Over time, we come to trust these voices not just for the information they convey, but for the sense that someone has listened, selected and shaped what we hear.

That relationship is unsettled by The Epstein Files, a new AI-generated podcast series that promises to process millions of Epstein-related documents into a coherent narrative. But when no one is clearly responsible for what we hear, the authority of the voice becomes harder to trust.

Created by data entrepreneur Adam Levy, the series draws on more than three million documents linked to Jeffrey Epstein and presents them as a “forensic audit” in the form of a conversational podcast between two AI-generated hosts.

Launched in February 2026, it’s had more than two million downloads so far. It’s a daily, self-updating show built through an automated pipeline that ingests, cross references and scripts material using AI systems, operating at a speed that traditional newsrooms could only dream of.

At first listen, The Epstein Files works, sounding like a carefully crafted podcast. But despite the jokes, cross-talk, hesitations and filler words that mirror shows like This American Life, Serial or S-Town, there are no identifiable human speakers behind the voices. From research to publication, the process appears to be largely automated, in line with Levy’s intention to “strip the emotion” from the story.

The hosts also claim that the podcast acts as a filter, combining AI-assisted processing with “human analysis” to review the records rather than speculate. But this distinction is harder to verify when the processes behind selection, interpretation and emphasis remain largely invisible.

Emotion, judgement and interpretation are seen here as irritations or threats. However, systems that select, rank and narrate information do not become neutral simply because those decisions bypass direct human involvement.

The series presents itself as “the first AI native” investigative documentary. Yet it lacks many of the features we’ve come to expect. There are no interviews, no location recordings, and hardly any sonic cues to guide the listener. Instead, it relies almost entirely on simulated conversation.

Scale is not judgement

The use of AI in podcasting is not simply a technical development. It disrupts the way shows are produced, structured and distributed. Rather than acting as a tool, these systems are beginning to reshape or obscure editorial processes that usually rely on human judgement.

The Epstein Files demonstrates how effectively AI can process vast quantities of material, producing a narrative that sounds coherent. But coherence is not the same as sense making, and pattern recognition is not interpretation. Deciding what matters, what is credible, and what should be left out remains a human task.

Automation does not remove judgement. Instead it relocates it, often in ways that are harder to see. Decisions are embedded in training data, system design and weighting mechanisms while appearing as neutral or unbiased outputs.

When information can be processed at scale, the question is no longer just what we know, but how we decide what counts as knowledge. Editorial standards don’t disappear, but they become harder to identify.

Why audio makes this harder

The human voice carries assumptions of authenticity. It signals presence, experience and connection. When we hear someone speak, we tend to assume a relationship between voice and responsibility. That assumption becomes more difficult to sustain when the voice is artificial yet sounds convincingly human.

These nameless hosts are not neutral. They are modelled on familiar broadcast styles associated with authority in western media. In doing so, they reproduce ideas about professionalism and trust, while remaining detached from any identifiable speaker.

What is striking about The Epstein Files is how persuasively authority is performed. The conversational structure suggests multiple perspectives, the tone implies neutrality, and the pacing suggests careful deliberation. But none of this guarantees that the material has been critically evaluated.

Content that creates itself

It could be argued that automation results in more transparency. But this relies on the assumption that volume can substitute for editorial oversight. When material is misinterpreted, stripped of context or simply wrong, it’s often unclear how those mistakes might be identified or addressed.

This is particularly troubling with material such as the Epstein case, which centres on human harm and exploitation. Such stories demand sensitivity, restraint and clearly traceable accountability. The way these stories are processed and retold can also feel detached from the people most affected by them.

At the same time, AI generated podcasts are growing. They are cheap to produce and increasingly difficult to distinguish from human made content. Their appeal may lie in speed, availability and the impression that someone has already done the work of sorting through chaos.

For audiences, the question is not only how to identify what is true or false. It’s also about recognising what is missing. Listening has typically meant encountering different voices, perspectives and forms of responsibility. When those elements are reduced or removed, the act of listening itself begins to change. The Epstein Files offers little sense of a right of reply for its audience. There is no clear editorial voice and no visible chain of accountability.

Broadcasting always depended on relationships between voices and listeners, and between storytelling and editorial judgement. This is beginning to change. The Epstein Files does not signal the end of podcasting or investigative journalism. But it marks a moment in which the cultural meaning of the voice is being tested.

Co-presence and community is central to radio and podcasting. But in The Epstein Files, nobody is there. There may be voices but if you listen very closely, you’ll notice that no one ever takes a breath.

Kathryn McDonald 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.

In central Seoul, South Korea, a motorway once covered a buried urban stream. Today, that same stretch has been uncovered – a process known as daylighting – and this river is home to plants, fish and insects. This flowing water cools the city in summer and attracts tens of thousands of people every day. What used to be concrete now boosts biodiversity, the local economy and community wellbeing.

Similar transformations are unfolding elsewhere.

In Christchurch, New Zealand, river habitats and wetlands were rebuilt after a major earthquake in 2011, guided in part by Māori knowledge of waterways and floodplains. In Vancouver, Canada, nature-based stormwater systems have been integrated into urban design through long-term collaboration with local First Nations.

Across the world, urban planning projects are beginning to take a different approach. One that designs with living freshwater systems, rather than trying to control and contain them.

In a new study, our international team of freshwater scientists and planning experts highlights that, while our towns and cities contain some of the world’s most degraded rivers, wetlands and ponds, they also provide huge opportunities for protecting and restoring freshwater wildlife.

Cities and towns have historically been designed with people in mind. Planning systems prioritise housing, transport, economic growth and flood defence – often treating rivers and streams as infrastructure rather than living ecosystems.

This hasn’t always been the case. Ancient civilisations, from the Indus to the Maya, built settlements around water. They worked with floods, wetlands and seasonal flows in ways that supported both people and nature. With the dawn of industrialisation and modern planning, floodplains were built on, rivers were straightened, streams buried and waterways increasingly engineered to move water through cities rather than support wildlife.

The consequences are stark and hard to ignore: degraded urban waterways, declining freshwater species, and whole cities are more vulnerable to climate-driven floods, heatwaves and water scarcity, contributing to a global collapse in freshwater biodiversity.

Our rivers, lakes, ponds and wetlands occupy only a tiny fraction of the planet while supporting roughly a third of all vertebrate species. Importantly, freshwater acts as an ecological life-support system, sustaining a range of species – including us.

This is why the latest figures are so alarming. Freshwater vertebrate animals such as salmon and eel populations have fallen by 85% over the last 50 years. This is one of the steepest collapses of any group of species on Earth. Urban waterways sit at the heart of this rapid decline.

Movement to deal with this crisis has started. Countries have signed up to ambitious global agreements, pledging to halt and reverse biodiversity loss.

But translating these promises into real change remains a major challenge.

Urban planners as allies

Urban planners shape the very environments where freshwater pressures are most intense – towns and cities. Every day, they make decisions affecting how land is zoned, how stormwater is managed, where green space goes, what buffers are protected, and how urban form evolves. Their actions ripple through entire catchments.

Yet most urban planners often aren’t supported or equipped with the ecological knowledge needed to incorporate freshwater biodiversity into daily practice.

Urban planners need the tools, training and support to recognise freshwater ecosystems as valuable living systems that underpin city resilience, human health and everyday wellbeing – rather than obstacles to be overcome.

In cities such as Breda in the Netherlands, Los Angeles in the US and Nanjing in China, this different way of thinking about freshwater is taking hold. And planners aren’t working alone.

Local residents and Indigenous communities, ecologists, engineers and even schools are often involved from the outset. Together, they bring diverse knowledge of the local context and can build a shared environmental stewardship. Early collaboration helps ensure freshwater biodiversity isn’t an afterthought and results in lasting care for rivers, ponds and wetlands.

Education matters too.

To foster this transition, silos between planning, ecology and engineering can be broken down. Land-use decisions can then be made with a clearer understanding of how water behaves across an entire catchment and how that shapes freshwater habitats.

Just as important is how knowledge flows. Freshwater biodiversity research doesn’t always reach the people making day-to-day planning decisions, or those designing and building projects on the ground. When planners, scientists and delivery teams have access to shared tools, open data or simple design guidance, nature-positive ideas are far more likely to make it off the page and into our cities.

Clear rules are also useful. Biodiversity targets only make a difference if they are backed up by practical local standards and the resources to implement them. For example, we need standards on how to protect riverbanks, restore floodplains or design stormwater systems that work with nature, rather than against it. Without that clarity – and the training and resources to support it – planners are often left trying to balance competing demands on their own.

There are still big gaps in what we know. How much space do urban rivers really need, and how does this vary from place to place? Which nature-based solutions work best across different landscapes? Urban planners can help answer these questions by learning from what works and using that knowledge to improve outcomes for freshwater biodiversity.

Urban planners – often working behind the scenes within local and devolved governments – are at the forefront of this transformation. They can embed freshwater biodiversity into the hearts of our cities.

However, planners cannot do this alone. Freshwater scientists, policymakers, river restoration specialists, engineers, social scientists and economists can work with planners. Universities and professional bodies can rethink how planning is taught. Governments can recognise planners as agents of ecological recovery, not just arbiters of urban growth.

Cities could become hubs for freshwater restoration and recovery, rather than hotspots of decline. They can become places where rivers, wetlands and people thrive together – with benefits that flow far beyond city boundaries.

Helen A. L. Currie receives funding from UKRI Engineering & Physical Sciences Research Council Noise Network +.

Irene Gregory-Eaves receives funding from the Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council of Canada.

Steven J Cooke receives funding from the Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council of Canada. He is appointed as Canadian Commissioner for the Great Lakes Fishery Commission.

News the Australian government will spend over A$10 billion to boost fuel supplies is both welcome and well overdue.

The plans announced today ahead of next week’s budget include $3.7 billion for publicly owned fuel reserves able to hold 1 billion litres of diesel and aviation fuel. They also include increasing stockholding requirements another ten days, and $7.5 billion to support fuel companies to access loans, insurance and equity to purchase and store more stock. That would mean Australia would have 37 days of petrol and diesel and 50 days of jet fuel.

Successive governments have largely been asleep at the wheel on fuel security. As the largest energy crisis on record drives up fuel prices and makes diesel harder to source, the government is frantically trying to play catch-up. Australia is highly exposed, as it now imports almost all its liquid fuels. Shoring up diesel supplies is vital, given how critical this fuel is for farming and trucking.

After the US-Iran war broke out and the crucial Strait of Hormuz closed, Australian policymakers hurriedly developed a National Fuel Security plan. Today’s announcement is the biggest so far under this plan. Previous measures include using emergency procurement agreements with neighbouring countries, underwriting emergency fuel cargoes, increasing stockpiles under new emergency stockholding powers and increasing existing liquid fuel sources.

These measures are an excellent start to bolster fuel security. But they’re not enough. Our leaders should secure more refining capacity and look for more domestic oil. They must also accelerate the shift to electric vehicles to make sure the next oil crisis passes us by.

How did we get here?

There’s nothing new about Australia’s insecure supplies of liquid fuels.

A fuel crisis was likely as early as 2020, as my research has shown, because of the closures of domestic refineries, the decision to temporarily hold our strategic oil reserve in the United States and a lack of domestic oil exploration and production.

Over the last ten years or more, successive governments have made the decision to rely heavily on liquid fuel imports and to let all but two refineries close. Over 90% of Australia’s petrol, diesel and jet fuel for both civilian and military purposes are imported from Singapore, South Korea, Japan and China.

Such reliance leaves Australia exposed to fuel shortages if there is a disruption to shipping lanes or geopolitical tensions, such as there is now. Coupled with this, the collapse of domestic refining has severely reduced Australia’s ability to produce its own fuel.

Even if we still had refining capacity, we would need to import crude oil to refine.

Then there’s the elephant in the room – very low fuel stockpiles. Historically, Australia has held very low liquid fuel stockpiles of around 30 days under the government’s Minimum Stockholding Obligation.

These critically low stockpiles leave Australia vulnerable – especially around diesel. Soon, it will be time to plant winter wheat. That requires fuel and fertiliser, both of which are derived from fossil fuels and both of which are in desperately short supply.

This is a significant oversight by the government, given wheat is a major export crop.

Is the new plan enough?

The government’s plan offers quick fixes. It may be enough to buy us some time. But a longer-term strategy is desperately required. Market interventions will not be enough – the government must lead.

As economic experts Yergin and Stanislaw have observed, some parts of the economy – the “commanding heights” – are so critical they should be controlled by the government and not left to the market. Until Australia shifts to electric vehicles in earnest, fuel is one of those areas.

Policymakers must take two actions in the medium-term.

One, build more refining capacity as a backup in case a fire breaks out as it did at the Geelong refinery last month – or other accident. The steady closure of local refineries in the face of intense competition across Asia suggests they may not be financially viable. This means government involvement through subsidies or part/full ownership will be necessary.

Two, secure oil to feed increased refinery capacity. It would be sensible to have significant domestic oil storage. Encouraging more domestic oil production would give us a measure of self-sufficiency in oil, a position Australia enjoyed until the oil wells of the Bass Strait began to run dry. It would be sensible to require current oil fields to maximise their production.

Time to tackle consumption

At present, the vast majority of Australia’s cars, trucks, planes, machines and farm equipment run on liquid fuels. But that could change.

This is why addressing supply is not enough. We also have to tackle consumption by progressively reducing how much fuel we use for transport.

The easiest way to do this is to electrify as much transport as possible, which will reduce the need for liquid fuels over time.

Giving incentives to switch to electric vehicles as Norway, China and many other nations have done is key. Australia has some incentives, but the shift to EVs has been sluggish until very recently.

The second challenge will be to electrify freight, whether through electrified trucks or trains.

The third challenge will be to tackle how much fuel we use on farms. Across Europe, many farmers are switching to electric tractors. The European Union is encouraging their use.

But Australian farms are often much bigger than those in Europe. Huge fields and long distances between fields and farm infrastructure, and questions over grid power availability are hurdles to be overcome. One solution may be microgrids, where large farms run on solar and charge their electric equipment on site.

One option worth exploring seriously is biofuels. Making fuels from plant oils is progressing and may well prove essential for Australia’s long-term energy security.

Sensible, but late

We should see today’s announcement as a sensible suite of measures coming five years too late. It will take time for these to become reality. That means there’s likely more pain to come for farmers and truckies as the energy shocks of 2026 roll on.

Tina Soliman-Hunter 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.

After weeks (or months) of putting it off, you book a longer appointment with your GP to talk about your mental health. You explain that you’ve been feeling low, anxious and overwhelmed. They suggest seeing a psychologist.

But how do you know if this psychologist is the right person for you?

It’s a fair question, and it matters more than many people realise.

So, what should you know before you book your first appointment?

What does a referral actually mean?

In Australia, your GP can refer you to a psychologist under a mental health treatment plan. This provides Medicare rebates for a set number of sessions.

To be eligible, your GP must assess that you have a diagnosable mental health condition that would benefit from treatment, such as anxiety, depression, sleep difficulties or stress-related concerns.

Most people can receive up to ten sessions a year with a Medicare rebate. Many psychologists charge an out-of-pocket fee, although some offer bulk billing. Rebates are higher for clinical psychologists than for other psychologists.

You’re not locked into the psychologist named on your referral. In most cases, you can choose a different psychologist and still receive a rebate.

Not all psychologists are the same

All psychologists are registered with the Psychology Board of Australia. Some complete additional specialist training and are endorsed in areas such as clinical, counselling, educational and developmental, or forensic psychology.

Endorsement reflects specialised training, not necessarily “better” care. What matters most is whether the psychologist has experience with your concerns and uses an approach suited to your needs.

Therapies based on cognitive and behavioural principles have the strongest and most consistent evidence, particularly when matched to specific problems.

For example, structured approaches are widely used for anxiety, sleep difficulties and depression, while parenting programs are commonly used for child behaviour problems.

The Australian Psychological Society’s “Find a Psychologist” directory and the government’s healthdirect Service Finder are good places to start looking for a psychologist.

What should you look for?

Referrals to psychologists are often based on practical factors such as availability or location, rather than whether the psychologist is the right match for the person’s needs. But the match can shape how helpful therapy is.

So how do you find the right fit? It can help to ask a few simple questions. Many psychologists offer brief introductory phone calls to help determine whether they’re a good fit. These are usually short and focused on practical questions, and are often provided at no cost. You may also find some of this information on the psychologist’s website, or get a sense of it over the first few sessions.

You can ask:

• have you worked with people with this problem before?

• what kind of approach do you use?

• what would the first few sessions look like?

• how will we know if this is working?

If you have several psychologists to choose from, you can book your first appointment with the one that seems like the best match.

What if you don’t have much choice?

In rural or remote areas, or if you need a low-cost option, choices may be limited. In these cases, the focus shifts to making the best use of what’s available. That may include telehealth or working with your GP to review your progress.

It’s also worth knowing that seeing a psychologist isn’t the only option.

Evidence-based online programs can help, particularly for common problems. For instance, programs such as MindSpot and This Way Up offer courses for anxiety and depression.

Free parenting programs such as Triple P and ParentWorks provide evidence-based support for child behaviour problems. These online programs can be a useful starting point, although they may not suit more complex difficulties.

You can also call Medicare Mental Health on 1800 595 212 to connect you with supports.

How do you know you’re on the right track?

So you’ve found a psychologist and had a few sessions. A good one can explain how they think about your problem and why they are using a particular approach.

Be cautious if, after a few sessions, your psychologist’s approach feels very generic, or it’s unclear how it fits your situation or problem.

You don’t have to like your psychologist for them to be a good fit. After the first few sessions, you should have a clearer sense of direction. They should make you feel understood, seem to “get it”, and be someone you’re able to work with. There should also be a clear plan or focus, and at least one useful idea or strategy.

Therapy can feel uncomfortable at times, that’s normal. But if you still feel unclear about the direction or not well understood, you have options.

You can talk to the psychologist, ask your GP for a different referral, or look for another psychologist yourself.

The key is not to stay stuck in something that isn’t helping.

The bottom line

Seeing a psychologist can be one of the most helpful steps you take for your mental health. But it’s not just about going. It’s about finding someone whose approach fits your needs and who you can work with.

When it comes to therapy, “available” is not always the same as “right”. You deserve the right fit.

Trevor Mazzucchelli is a registered psychologist with the Psychology Board of Australia, with endorsement in clinical psychology, and is a member of the Australian Psychological Society and a Fellow of the APS College of Clinical Psychologists. He is a co-author of the Stepping Stones Triple P – Positive Parenting Program and a consultant to Triple P International. The Parenting and Family Support Centre receives funding from royalties generated by Triple P resources, which are developed and owned by The University of Queensland. Royalties are distributed to the University, its Faculty of Health and Behavioural Sciences, and contributing authors. Trevor Mazzucchelli does not hold shares in Triple P International but has received, and may receive in the future, royalties and consultancy fees. Triple P International had no involvement in this article. He has received research funding from the Australian Research Council and the National Health and Medical Research Council. He does not endorse any specific program, product or organisation in this article.

With the fuel crisis showing no sign of abating, the Albanese government has unveiled a package worth more than $10 billion to protect the country’s fuel and fertiliser security.

The measures include setting up a government-owned Australian Fuel Security Reserve of about a billion litres.

The government would also raise the Minimum Stockholding Obligation by about ten days for every type of fuel.

The measures would expand Australia’s onshore reserve to at least 50 days supply and storage of diesel and aviation fuel.

As well, there is money for examining the feasibility of new or expanded refining capacity. Australia’s previous multiple oil refineries have shrunk from eight to just two, one of which, near Geelong, recently had a serious fire.

The government would aim to have its plan fully in place by 2030. It would be financed off budget meaning it doesn’t hit the budget’s bottom line. Much of the detail remains to be worked out.

Prime Minister Anthony Albanese briefed national cabinet on the package on Wednesday before the announcement.

The components of the plan include:

• $7.5 billion for the Fuel and Fertiliser Security Facility with financial support including loans, equity, guarantees, insurance and price support

• $3.2 billion to establish the government-owned Australian Fuel Security Reserve to increase long-term diesel and aviation fuel supply and storage, combined with an increase to the Minimum Stockholding Obligation to extend Australia’s critical fuel reserves to 50 days. The reserve will concentrate on regional stocks and supply constraints for essential users in times of crisis.

• $10 million for feasibility studies into new or expanded refining capabilities. These studies would be co-funded with state and territory governments.

Recently the opposition announced its own policy to boost fuel supplies. It said a Coalition government would boost Australia’s minimum fuel reserve to 60 days, and deliver at least one billion litres of new storage with a $800 million Fuel Security Facility.

Opposition leader Angus Taylor said the government plan was “too little and too late”.

Tony Wood, from the Grattan Institute’s climate change and energy program, told The Conversation the government’s planned modest increase in onshore storage was probably a good idea.

But he said there were a lot of questions about the proposed government-owned storage facility. These included how it would be managed, how the fuel would be used and who would pay for it.

Wood criticised the provision for feasibility studies for new refineries as a “dumb” idea given Australia was not producing oil to refine. There has been speculation about development of the Taroom Trough in Queensland, but the economic viability of this is unknown.

Wood said the emphasis should be on encouraging electric cars and trucks, and also looking at biofuels.

The Queensland government has just announced a plan to make available state-owned land for potential oil storage and refineries near ports.

Michelle Grattan 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.

Economic growth, particularly in energy-intensive nations, is slowing as the Middle East war continues to throttle exports of oil, plastics and fertiliser.

The International Monetary Fund in its World Economic Outlook and Australian Treasurer Jim Chalmers have forecast slowing economic growth in industrialised economies.

But perhaps the current crisis is an opportunity to discuss an alternative to the economic orthodoxy of constant growth.

Supporters of economic theories known as “degrowth” or “post-growth” say that capitalism’s pursuit of growth, along with the relentless consumption and production needed to sustain it, has run its course.

They point to rising inequality, exceeding natural planetary boundaries and geopolitical struggles over scarcer energy resources.

If slower economic growth is where we’re heading, degrowth and post-growth thinkers have already been exploring ways to make that transition smoother.

The push for reform

Leading post-growth and degrowth advocates include economists Tim Jackson and Giorgos Kallis. They see a radical departure from capitalism, especially in its current neoliberal form, as a necessary next step in economic and political reform.

Degrowth proposals seek to redirect policy and economic activity away from how fast or how much the economy grows. Instead, the focus is on:

• the quality and purpose of what is produced
• who benefits and
• whether growth genuinely improves people’s lives.

Global supply chains have been disrupted by the Strait of Hormuz closure. The prospects of energy shortages and usage restrictions may mean reorientation away from economic growth is happening out of necessity.

A planned policy shift

Degrowth proponents argue for sufficiency over constant growth in gross domestic product (GDP). They want to see shorter supply chains and localised ownership of companies producing goods and services. This would simplify supply systems and reduce overall consumption.

In practical terms, this means fewer ships carrying cheap or single use goods, a focus on localising food production and expanding the lifespan of the products we do consume. In degrowth, less is more.

To achieve this in an energy-constrained world, degrowth involves reducing or eliminating some resource-intensive industries, such as fast fashion, through taxation and regulation. The European Union’s fast fashion tax is a good example.

Scaling back is occurring already, with regional supply chain strategies for the Association of Southeast Nations (ASEAN) and some pharmaceutical firms localising manufacturing to produce drugs and vaccines closer to end users.

What differentiates degrowth from stagflation or recession is an intentional, planned political shift away from GDP growth, to reorient economies around the idea of “buen vivir” (living well). This concept, originating from South America, is based on collective wellbeing and meeting basic needs.

It may be hard to pin down how much is enough and what a “decent” standard of living is for everyone. But a recent study has suggested it’s far less materially than we might think. It’s more about ensuring universal access to the essentials like food, housing, healthcare and education.

Basic needs for human wellbeing are defined in measures such as the UN’s Human Development Index and global happiness and wellbeing indices.

Environmental concern

War is leading to fuel shortages and rising food prices on top of a deepening cost of living crisis in Australia. With that backdrop, faith in the economy’s ability to deliver for people may be strained further.

Compounding this are concerns our current growth-dependant lifestyles are exceeding what Earth can support. One study just released found 58% of people in 92 countries surveyed placed a higher priority on environmental protection than economic growth.

Measures of economic growth such as GDP do not measure human wellbeing. In Australia, the government published an alternative set of measures known as Measuring What Matters, although wide policy influence has been limited.

Discussions on post-growth are happening at the international level of the OECD and World Economic Forum.

The United Nations just held its first meeting of the Beyond GDP Global Alliance in April, where leaders discussed shifting the measures of economic success away from GDP.

Is it just a thought experiment?

Despite worthwhile aims, degrowth and post-growth theories face significant challenges to feasibility in our current capitalist economies.

No industrialised country has ever deliberately shrunk its economy – though some cities such as Amsterdam and Copenhagen and regions are trying it. That means most ideas about what degrowth policies could achieve remain theoretical.

A saying within degrowth circles is that the end to economic growth will happen either “by design or by disaster”.

Does the slowing of economic growth in industrialised economies signal “degrowth by disaster”? And if so, perhaps it is time for businesses and governments to think about how to prepare for “degrowth by design”.

Carla Liuzzo 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.

Almost 60 countries, representing about a third of the global economy, met in the Colombian port city of Santa Marta last week for the first international summit on the transition away from fossil fuels.

It was hailed as a bold step to shift global dependence on hydrocarbons into an era of clean energy. The group of 57 countries, including Australia, Canada, Norway and Brazil, launched a new international process to coordinate the global phase out of coal, oil and gas. This historic shift brings us closer to the end of fossil fuels.

Irene Vélez Torres, Colombia’s environment minister and chair of the talks, said: “We decided that the transition away from fossil fuels could no longer remain a slogan but must become a concrete, political and collective endeavour.”

Here are five key developments from Santa Marta.

1. Moving beyond negotiating deadlocks

This meeting was a successful complement to the UN’s annual climate summits, not a replacement for them.

Decisions at UN climate meetings are made by consensus. Outcomes such as the 2015 Paris Agreement have huge legitimacy because they are agreed by nearly 200 countries. But the consensus rules also allow a handful of fossil fuel producers such as Saudi Arabia and Russia to block progress.

Holding a summit outside these formal UN talks brought much-needed fresh air to global climate diplomacy. Without petrostates blocking the way, willing countries were able to have pragmatic discussions about the legal, fiscal and economic measures needed for a coordinated wind down of fossil fuels.

These discussions will now feed back into the next UN climate talks, to be held in Turkey in November. They will, for example, raise expectations that countries include timelines to end fossil fuel use in national climate plans.

2. Paths away from coal, oil and gas

Working groups were established in Santa Marta to help countries develop national and regional plans to move away from fossil fuels, with targets and timelines to end the use of coal, oil and gas.

France launched its national roadmap at the summit, pledging to end the use of coal by 2030, oil by 2045 and gas by 2050. Europe’s second-largest economy plans to close its last coal-fired power plant next year, while replacing oil with electricity for transport and switching from gas to heat pumps for home heating. France wants two out of three new cars to be electric by 2030 and will ban the installation of gas boilers in new homes this year.

The ongoing US-Iran war has only added momentum for a shift to clean energy, as nations grapple with their dependence on imported fossil fuels amid the worst energy crisis in history.

Other nations are now expected to create plans to move away from fossil fuels and bring them to future summits.

3. A science panel to guide the transition

A new scientific panel launched in Santa Marta brings together experts in climate, economics, technology and law to advise policymakers as they draft plans to shift away from fossil fuels.

The panel will map out the most promising policies, regulations and financial arrangements to support the shift to clean energy. It is spearheaded by Professor Johan Rockstrom from the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research.

Ahead of Santa Marta, a global group of researchers released a report listing 12 high-level actions nations can take to support a fossil-fuel phaseout.

4. Tuvalu to host next summit, with Irish support

Tuvalu will host the next meeting on ending fossil fuels in 2027. As a low-lying island nation, Tuvalu’s future is threatened by sea-level rise. The Pacific nation has led global climate diplomacy for decades.

“If we are to address the climate change issue, we have to address the root cause, and the root cause is the fossil fuel industry,” said Maina Talia, Tuvalu’s climate change minister.

That there are plans for a second summit is meaningful in itself. A single conference could be a flash in the pan. But a series marks the birth of a new international process with buy in from both wealthy nations and developing countries. This year’s summit was co-hosted with the Netherlands and next year will be co-hosted with Ireland.

5. Toward a fossil fuel treaty

Today, fossil fuel producers plan to dig up more than double the amount of coal, oil and gas in 2030 than would be consistent with meeting shared climate goals.

Tuvalu is part of a growing bloc of countries, including 11 Pacific nations, that wants a new treaty to phase out fossil fuel production. Such a treaty would have three elements: ending fossil fuel expansion; phasing down existing production; and supporting a just transition to clean energy.

It would be similar to global agreements to phase out weapons, harmful substances or hazardous waste.

Climate diplomacy now runs at two speeds

We will only appreciate the full significance of the Santa Marta summit in history’s rear-view mirror.

But what is clear is that climate diplomacy now has two operating speeds. André Corrêa do Lago, who headed last year’s UN COP30 climate talks in Brazil, calls this “two-tier multilateralism”.

The first speed is that of the UN climate talks, which are slower and anchored in consensus. They ensure legitimacy, universality and collective direction.

But what the Santa Marta conference shows is the existence of a second, much faster speed available to any country wanting to rapidly move to end the use of fossil fuels, once and for all.

Wesley Morgan is a Fellow with the Climate Council of Australia.

Since 2020, Australia has had an ongoing shortage of oestrogen patches, which are usually prescribed to help ease menopause symptoms.

In March, the Therapeutic Goods Administration (TGA) confirmed shortages of several brands and doses of patches will last until at least the end of this year. But this estimate has already been pushed back many times.

So, what can you do when the pharmacy has run out of the hormone replacement therapy (HRT) patches you rely on?

You don’t need to ration your supply (and this doesn’t work anyway). Here are your other options.

What are HRT patches for?

HRT patches are small sticky squares worn on the skin, usually on the lower belly, back or buttock. This is sometimes also called menopausal hormone therapy (MHT).

HRT patches slowly release oestrogen (and sometimes a second hormone called progestogen) through the skin and into the bloodstream. Most brands need to be replaced every 3–4 days (twice a week).

Patches are prescribed to two groups of people. The vast majority are women going through perimenopause and menopause, when the ovaries make less oestrogen. Menopause typically happens around 50 years of age, but low oestrogen can occur earlier due to certain conditions, as well as surgery or cancer treatments.

The drop in oestrogen is what causes hot flushes, night sweats, broken sleep, brain fog, mood changes, joint aches and vaginal dryness. Symptoms vary from person to person, but about one in ten women in Australia are prescribed HRT for menopause.

Read more: What are the most common symptoms of menopause? And which can hormone therapy treat?

A much smaller group using HRT patches is transgender women and some non-binary people. They make up less than one per cent of Australia’s overall population.

As part of gender-affirming hormone therapy, HRT patches raise oestrogen levels in the body to bring about physical changes that align with the person’s gender, and to support their mental health and wellbeing.

The medication is identical. The shortages hit both groups.

Patches are a popular first choice for hormone therapy for a good reason. They deliver the hormones via the skin and not the gut, meaning unlike tablets the liver doesn’t have to process them. This carries a lower risk of blood clots, which matters for people with migraine, high blood pressure or a higher clot risk.

Patches also release a steadier level of hormone in the blood than a once-a-day pill.

Hormone patches are not just “good to have”. For many people they are the difference between functioning at work and home, and not.

What happens when you stop using them

If you stop using your HRT patches, your oestrogen levels will drop. This can mean hot flushes, night sweats and disrupted sleep return – usually within days.

Symptoms can really impact mood and mental health. This is not “withdrawal” in the way people withdraw from alcohol or opioids, as oestrogen patches are not addictive. But as the oestrogen that was easing symptoms is no longer there, the symptoms come back.

Many people may choose to stop HRT after a period of time. Research has shown that around half of people report a return of symptoms after stopping, which can sometimes lead them to restart treatment.

Some longer-term benefits of HRT, such as stronger bones, take months to fade. A short gap of a week or two while finding an alternative will not make a big difference.

If you have limited patches and can’t find more, you may consider tapering off. This means gradually using less over time (for example, by using fewer patches a week). But this doesn’t prevent symptoms returning – it only delays them. So if supply has run out, the priority is switching to another formulation, rather than rationing what remains.

One thing to avoid: cutting patches in half to make them last longer. The TGA specifically warns against this. It can affect how the patch sticks to the skin and how the oestrogen is absorbed, making the delivered dose unreliable.

What are the other options?

The first is a different patch. Pharmacists can now swap one brand for another brand or strength without a new prescription, under rules that specifically address medicine shortages. The TGA has also approved an overseas patch called Estramon, which is available in Australian pharmacies now.

A pharmacist may also provide multiple lower-dose patches, to use together.

The second option is an oestrogen gel, rubbed on the skin once a day. It works the same way as a patch and, as it’s delivered through the skin, has the same benefit of lower blood clot risk. But gels need to be applied daily. The Australasian Menopause Society has a dose conversion guide that doctors use to match a usual patch dose to other forms.

The third option is a tablet. Oral oestrogen works well for hot flushes and other body-wide symptoms, and may also be used alongside progesterone tablets. The trade-off is a slightly higher clot risk than skin-based options, because the hormone passes through the liver first. So tablets may not suit those with a history of clots or migraines.

For those whose main problem is vaginal dryness or discomfort during sex, a vaginal oestrogen cream or pessary works right where it is needed. Very little hormone reaches the bloodstream, so it is generally safe and can often be used with, or replace, other forms of HRT.

The shortage is frustrating for patients, pharmacists and doctors alike, and won’t be fixed any time soon. There are many alternative options. A chat with a GP or pharmacist is the place to start.

Ada Cheung is an Endocrinologist and Professor at The University of Melbourne. She has received travel support as an invited speaker from the Australasian Menopause Society and International Menopause Society. Ada Cheung has received research funding from National Health and Medical Research Council, Medical Research Future Fund, Heart Foundation, Suicide Prevention Australia, The Paul G. Allen Frontiers Group, University of Melbourne, Endocrine Society of Australia, Royal Australasian College of Physicians Foundation, Austin Medical Research Foundation, Sir Edward Dunlop Medical Research Foundation and Viertel Charitable Foundation. She is currently a member of the Endocrine Society (US), Endocrine Society of Australia, Australian Medical Association, World Professional Association for Transgender Health and Australian Professional Association for Trans Health.

Across Australia, universities and governments say increasing the numbers of Indigenous graduates is one of the main priorities in tertiary education.

First Nations people are still considerably underrepresented in our universities. They make up 1.9% of domestic higher education students, compared with 3.3% of the total Australian population.

While there are many programs and policies designed to encourage and support Indigenous people to enrol, many of the systems designed to improve participation are still shaped mainly by non-Indigenous decision-makers.

If universities want to improve Indigenous participation, policies and programs must be shaped not only for Indigenous students. They need to be guided by their voices and priorities.

What do Indigenous students themselves say matters when deciding whether or not university is for them?

Our research

In our new study, we spoke to Indigenous students about their university experiences. More specifically, what factors shaped their decision-making around going to university?

We used individual storytelling and focus groups where people shared stories in their own way. Through autobiographies, yarning sessions and interviews, First Nations participants shared rich insights into their journeys to higher education.

This study involved 37 Aboriginal and/or Torres Strait Islander university students, recruited with support from two Western Australian university Indigenous centres through email and social media. To protect their identities, we used pseudonyms. Where possible, we noted their Country affiliation.

Students came from different communities and backgrounds. Some came straight from school. Others entered university later in life. Some were the first in their family to attend university.

Their stories showed there is no single “Indigenous student experience”. But there were some clear, shared themes.

The ‘spark’ that started things

One of the strongest findings was students who went to university could describe a “spark” that helped them on their way.

This could have been a conversation, interaction or moment of encouragement from a trusted person that helped them see university as possible. For many students, university became imaginable because someone believed in them first.

For Samantha, a Ghungalu woman from Central Queensland, the spark came early. In Year 6, a family friend asked: “What do you want to be when you’re older?” This moment helped to normalise university long before an application was submitted.

An Aboriginal man, Blake, described how a school outreach visit changed his direction:

I was going to join the army, but university – they came, and it broadened my mind. I want to show people and myself that I can go to university and succeed. I want to break the chain.

Madison, a Nyikina woman from the Kimberley region of Western Australia, left school at 16 and once believed university was “only for smart people”. Years later, while supporting a young man in her community, she mentioned wanting to study psychology. His encouragement changed her path.

I realised that I was giving him excuses because I was afraid of failing.

After he passed away, Madison applied through an enabling program to university and is now studying psychology to give back to her community.

The importance of trusted friends

Traditional higher education marketing often assumes students will compare websites, fees, academic reputation, rankings, job prospects, teaching quality and course information before making a decision about where and what to study.

But many participants in our study relied first on family members, Elders, teachers, mentors, peers and the university’s Indigenous centre staff to help steer their choice. Universities have their own Indigenous centres that provide academic, social and cultural support for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students.

A sense of belonging, cultural safety and connection strongly influenced Indigenous students. For example, when Samantha attended a high school program hosted at an Indigenous centre, it helped her see a pathway to uni.

I remember being around everyone at the Indigenous centre. It was amazing […] I don’t have to feel like […] keeping my guard up.

Emotional and study support

Our interviewees also spoke of the importance of authentic inclusion once they got to university. This included tutorial assistance for Indigenous students and dedicated spaces for Indigenous students on campus.

Madison also emphasised the importance of flexible study options and a culturally safe space and that support needed to go beyond academic help.

It’s not just tutoring help, it’s the emotional and cultural support provided.

Students also pointed to the importance of flexibility in how they study, as well as greater awareness of alternative entry pathways to university beyond the ATAR (Australian Tertiary Admission Rank).

For Madison, being able to study online and on campus has made university possible while raising her children. As she explained,

I love bringing my kids on campus because I want them to see it’s normal to go to university, learning can be flexible and not just from a textbook.

What’s needed now

Our research suggests increasing Indigenous students at university cannot rely on generic recruitment and marketing.

Students seek genuine inclusion through relationships, representation and communication. This means investing in mentors, school outreach, community partnerships and Indigenous role models to create more “sparks”.

This must be matched by a whole-of-university commitment to culturally safe and supportive student experiences.

Inclusivity must be embedded across the entire institution, with Indigenous centres working alongside marketing, faculties, student services, and equity teams. This means using inclusive language, curricula that reflects Indigenous perspectives, staff that are culturally aware and Indigenous-specific student support. Indigenous knowledges and perspectives need to be visible, respected and represented in everyday university life.

Associate Professor Marie Ryan contributed to the original research described in this article.

Braden Hill receives funding from the National Health and Medical Research Council and Medical Research Future Fund.

Claire Lambert and Melissa Fong-Emmerson do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

If you’ve driven on regional Australian roads, you’ve likely seen the signs warning of kangaroos and other animals – the familiar “wildlife ahead” signs.

They are supposed to warn drivers of the dangers of wildlife on our roads, but collisions with animals are rising in Australia.

So how widespread is the problem? How can you reduce the risk? And what should you do if you do hit one?

A growing concern

Recent insurance data suggest the risk is higher than many people realise.

Tens of thousands of collisions with animals are recorded each year across Australia and the number appears to be rising.

According to NRMA Insurance claims data, there was a 21% rise in animal collision claims from 2024-2025.

The risk is not evenly spread. It varies by time of day, season and location, meaning there are periods when drivers are significantly more exposed.

Understanding when and where that risk is highest is the best way to avoid animals while driving.

How common are crashes with animals?

Insurance data provides the clearest indication of the scale of animal-vehicle crashes:

When and where is the risk highest?

There are distinct risk patterns when it comes to animal crashes and the strongest and most consistent pattern is time of day.

Crashes involving animals are heavily concentrated in low-light conditions (dawn and dusk), particularly from early evening through to midnight.

Analysis of serious crashes shows they are significantly over-represented between 6pm and 6am, with the highest risk typically in the evening (6pm–12am).

This pattern is closely linked to animal behaviour. Many large animals, including kangaroos, are most active at dusk and night, often moving to feed along roadside vegetation.

Reduced visibility also means drivers detect animals later, leaving less time to react.

Seasonal patterns also exist, though are less pronounced. Insurance data shows collisions increase through the cooler months, with a clear peak in mid-winter (June–July).

This is largely due to shorter daylight hours, which extend the time drivers are exposed to high-risk, low-light conditions.

Location matters, as well. Insurance data shows collisions are concentrated on regional and rural roads, where higher speeds, limited lighting and greater exposure to wildlife increase risk.

Insurer data consistently identifies specific hotspots across the country.

In New South Wales, the highest number of claims were recorded in Dubbo, Bathurst and Wagga Wagga. In Victoria, collisions are concentrated around Sunbury and Melbourne’s northern fringes, including rapidly growing outer suburban areas.

Some road users are more vulnerable and exposed than others. Motorcyclists are consistently over-represented in serious animal crashes and are more likely to suffer severe injury, a pattern observed internationally.

To swerve or brake?

There’s no silver bullet solution to animal-vehicle crash risk. It comes down to understanding the conditions that increase exposure, and how drivers respond in the moment.

Not all widely used measures work. Wildlife warning signs are common but evidence suggests they have limited impact: drivers become accustomed to them and often ignore them.

The safest response is not always clear.

Drivers confronted by an animal may brake or attempt to swerve, and the evidence on these decisions is more nuanced than some road safety messaging suggests.

Among crashes that led to hospitalisation, direct impacts were associated with higher injury severity (than swerving), while swerving was linked to a greater likelihood of rollover.

In other words, swerving does not necessarily eliminate the risk; it can change it from an animal impact to a loss-of-control crash, such as a rollover or collision with another object.

But not swerving does not guanrantee lowering the severity of occupant injuries.

The best advice is to reduce speed early which allows the driver to maintain control, particularly at dusk, dawn, night and in known wildlife zones. Lower speeds give drivers more time to brake safely and reduce the severity of both direct impacts and evasive manoeuvres.

What should you do if you hit an animal?

Dead or injured animals on the road can lead some drivers to stop, get out of the car, or try to move an animal. This can expose them to passing traffic and can prove fatal.

In many cases, the safest option is to call a wildlife rescue service and report the location, rather than intervening directly.

Play it safe

Animal crashes are inherently unpredictable. The most effective approach is to understand the patterns and risk factors and respond proportionately.

Reduce exposure to high-risk times where possible, and if not, remain vigilant in those conditions.

There is no single fix. The risk and outcome depends on when you drive, where you drive, and how you react in the moment.

Milad Haghani receives funding from the Australian government's Office of Road Safety.