About a year and a half ago, Jaclyn Symes replaced Tim Pallas as Victorian treasurer, ending Pallas’ record-breaking ten years in the role.

A lot was expected of Symes in not much time. She needed to find cash for an election less than two years away, but the state’s finances were already badly stretched by high net debt and elevated pandemic-related spending.

To add to the challenge, the main Victorian public sector union was primed for a fight following a change of leadership elected to protect pay and jobs.

The Victorian budget released today shows Symes has delivered the goods. That’s partly through good management and partly because of good luck.

Back in black

Symes has managed to announce that this financial year the budget will have an operating surplus (which excludes infrastructure spending) for the first time since the pandemic.

Not only that, at A$700 million, it’s roughly $100 million higher than had initially been forecast in last year’s budget.

For the next financial year (2026-27), the operating surplus is budgeted to be almost $1 billion ($900 million less than was budgeted for).

The budget is back in the black despite $2 billion of new “output” initiatives (spending on day-to-day activities of government) for the remainder of this financial year, and – remarkably – $4 billion in 2026–27.

That is a lot of cash, to which can be added an additional $1.8 billion for new infrastructure spending next year.

The big winners

The big winners (in a budget where there were mostly winners) were health, transport and education.

Health gets an additional $1 billion next year, with around 40% allocated for treating more patients.

Transport will benefit from an extra $1 billion in 2025-26 and a further $851 million the following year.

The big ticket items here are a 20% rebate for car registration ($800 million) and free public transport ($430 million).

Education gets an extra $720 million next year, with the biggest beneficiary being additional supports for children with disabilities – $265 million next year, rising to over $700 million in four years’ time.

And all this is to happen while Symes has projected a $600 million fall in stamp duty revenues next year, with higher interest rates cooling the housing market.

The surplus secret

So, how did she manage to do all this?

First, through good management. One of the first things Symes did last year was announce a budget review to be done by well-respected former senior public servant Helen Silver.

That review is already delivering several billion dollars in savings over four years, mainly as a result of cleverly crafted departmental restructures.

This has included replacing highly paid senior public servants with junior ones.

But more than anything else, Symes has benefited from the good fortune of having a Labor government in Canberra, which next year will chip in $4.4 billion more to the state’s coffers than the government had expected this time last year.

Victoria has done very well from the latest GST carve-up, and now expects to receive almost $2 billion more in 2026–7 than was expected last December.

The new federal health agreement includes new disability programs to be delivered at the state level. And the federal government is also providing capital grants to help pay for the Suburban Rail Loop and other projects.

The elephant in the room

The elephant in the budget papers is the state’s level of net debt, which is set to hit $165 billion next year. If you add in all public sector entities and not just those covered by the budget (such as water boards, Homes Victoria and Victorian Rail Track Corporation), that figure is $212 billion.

In four years’ time, debt is projected to rise to $199.3 billion ($248 billion for the entire public sector).

This raises the question: why not make use of all that extra cash to shore up the budget?

Symes points to an electorate doing it tough thanks to the cost of living and to state assets exceeding $440 billion.

Polling day looms

But top of mind will be the election, scheduled for November 28, with Labor’s popularity in the doldrums and its leader on the nose.

For the opposition, which is also struggling in the polls, this budget is not good news. Labor has spent the chocolates.

It is hard to see how the Liberal party will be able to achieve its stated goals of reducing debt while cutting taxes at the same time, without a radical program of cuts. Such cuts would not go down well in an electorate primed for spending.

Symes has tucked away $5 billion in contingencies in case things turn unexpectedly sour, and also to partly fund an election war chest.

Is this budget enough to win votes?

The one bright spot for the opposition is that the budget does not crank up spending on law and order to the degree that might have been expected.

There’s a little for additional jail services, police and crime prevention, but with over 1,000 unfilled positions in the police service at a time of soaring crime, that looks like a problem still in need of a fix.

The Victorian treasurer has crafted a clever budget for an election year. But with only six months until election day, it may be a bit late to ensure an unpopular Labor government secures the additional and record fourth term it desperately craves.

David Hayward 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.

There’s a growing awareness policy works best when shaped by the people and communities who have lived through the issues it aims to address.

If we don’t listen to and learn from those who have experienced issues such as homelessness, family violence, distress or trauma, we risk building systems that misunderstand the harm and the hope within those realities.

Across social and public sectors, new roles are being created for people with what is often called “lived expertise”.

These are people whose personal experience informs work to improve policy, practice and research. They are advising government departments, helping to design services, informing inquiries and guiding community initiatives.

But while lived experience is often invited into the room, we still know little about what it is like to work from that experience across distinct issue areas – and about the emotional toll, risks and challenges of trying to make change inside systems that actively resist it.

To explore this further, we spoke with ten lived experience leaders as part of our research, released today.

Deep commitment

The lived experience leaders we spoke with work alongside a range of communities – for example, First Nations peoples, incarcerated women and girls, those experiencing mental distress, young people, people from LGBTIQA+ communities and those impacted by family violence.

Our research revealed that these lived experience leaders are deeply committed to structural change. They carry hard-won knowledge and a strong determination to ensure others have better experiences.

One told us:

I came in with the motivation that there were so many people that this had happened to, and I wanted to change it.

Another said:

I don’t feel accountable to dominant systems […] What I feel accountable to feels greater than me – accountable to my ancestors and to those who come after me.

Influencing from the inside and outside

These leaders work across, between and beyond institutions – sometimes from the inside to influence change, other times building power outside them.

As one leader said:

I believe we need to build power ourselves and then the system will come to us for the answers, rather than us trying to fit into their structures and processes.

Moving between these spaces is not easy.

Another leader said:

We hold one shield that’s fending off the system and another shield that’s fending off the organisations we have to work with, and then another that’s defending victim-survivors. Then we don’t have anything left to protect ourselves.

Leaders are often drawing on collective experience, not just their own, and feel deep accountability to others, particularly those who share experiences of injustice and harm.

As one said:

I am accountable to the people at the end or the bottom – to service users and the people who have the most to lose.

Their approach intentionally challenges dominant hierarchies. They lead alongside others, guided by the quality of relationships they build – and by care, accountability and connection. One person told us:

I would never speak about women and girls in cages if I’m not being held accountable by the women and girls in cages […] Otherwise, you’re operating from a position of “power over” – and that’s not true leadership.

Hazards, harms and hope

Lived experience leadership can also carry risks. Many leaders spoke about being invited to contribute or “have a seat at the table” without being genuinely heard, or seeing action taken from their insights.

Participation often feels like a compliance exercise. Tokenism, they said, is still common. One person told us:

Something we don’t talk about enough is the price we pay for sharing our lived and living experience.

Another said:

We choose to do it because we genuinely care about people we’ve never met – because we want people to live, because we want the systems that continue to fail them to change.

The toll that takes – the exhaustion, the trauma that’s constantly brought up, the feelings of not being valued or considered – and yet still choosing to fight each day for the right reasons, is more than anyone could ever possibly imagine.

And yet, many leaders also spoke about hope. One person told us:

I do have some sort of hope most days […] This is love for, and belief in, our community. My hope is kept alive through contact with and service to my community.

Where to from here?

Our research shows lived experience leadership holds real potential to address the complex problems traditional approaches struggle to solve.

But this potential can only be fully realised when institutions recognise their own capacity to cause harm and begin to share power with those most affected.

Real progress means more than inviting lived experience into rooms or at tables – it means taking responsibility, acting on what’s heard and being changed by it.

As one leader urged:

Sometimes we have to demand the impossible […] Let those with institutional power worry about how they’re going to hold us back […] Most of the time, you sit at the table because collaboration is essential – but sometimes, you do have to flip it.

Lived experience leadership isn’t about earning a seat at someone else’s table.

It’s about questioning who built the table in the first place – and creating new spaces where power, decision-making and design are genuinely shared.

Morgan Cataldo's research was funded by the Paul Ramsay Foundation.

Kelsey Dole's research was funded by the Paul Ramsay Foundation.

Perrie Ballantyne's research was funded by the Paul Ramsay Foundation.

Robyn Martin's research was funded by the Paul Ramsay Foundation.

Suzi Hayes' research was funded by the Paul Ramsay Foundation.

Over the last two months, refineries and fuel storage facilities around the world have caught fire due to war (Russia) or accident (Australia, the United States, India and Mexico), adding more pressure to stressed oil and gas supply chains.

Global production of refined oil is normally around 100 million barrels a day. But this is under real strain. When Iran closed the Strait of Hormuz in February, it prevented 25% of global seaborne oil exports leaving the region. Iran also responded to strikes by the United States and Israel by launching attacks on oil and gas infrastructure in neighbouring states.

Ukraine’s recent attacks on Russian oil refineries have driven Russian output 12% lower than last year’s figures.

But while the spate of accidental refinery fires around the world only affect a small percentage of global output, they amplify the impact of the bigger supply shocks flowing from the Iran war.

This year’s unprecedented energy crunch has exposed deep structural weaknesses in how the global oil system operates – and how easily it can be disrupted. Refineries have become targets in war, while poor maintenance or accidents point to systemic stresses.

How refineries became a target

This year, oil refineries have become targets in two wars. Refineries and energy infrastructure have been targeted in previous conflicts. But advances in drone technology and intelligence have made attacks cheaper and more effective. It’s now possible to hit specific distillation columns or fuel storage tanks within a refinery.

The Russia-Ukraine war is now well into its fourth year. Ukraine has relied heavily on drones for defence and, increasingly, attack. Successive drone strikes on Russia’s Black Sea Tuapse refinery have done significant damage. Earlier strikes hit refineries in Perm and Orsk.

One of Iran’s main targets has been the oil and gas infrastructure of neighbouring Gulf States. Missiles, shrapnel and drones have hit refineries, fuel storage facilities and oil tankers. Fuel exports from the world’s biggest oil and gas region have slowed to a trickle.

Ukraine and Iran’s attacks on oil infrastructure show oil assets are no longer just civilian infrastructure. They can be instruments of economic warfare. Attacks are designed not just to cause local damage, but to create wider market disruptions and trigger sustained economic pressure. For Ukraine, the goal is to weaken Russia, economically and strategically. For Iran, the goal is to exert influence over the region and drive up oil prices to pressure the US to negotiate.

Australia’s refinery fire points to fragility

Fire is a key vulnerability for refineries and fuel storage facilities.

In mid-April, a fire broke out at one of Australia’s two remaining refineries. The fire forced petrol production at Viva’s Geelong refinery to be cut to 60% of normal production and diesel and jet fuel production to be cut to 80% until repairs are complete.

The cut to domestic refining capacity was “a setback”, according to federal Energy Minister Chris Bowen. Australia faces a real challenge on fuel, given limited local capacity and a heavy reliance on imported liquid fuels from overseas refineries in Asia. Unfortunately, the fire in Geelong added to the strain on fuel due to already reduced supply.

Refineries under strain globally

Over the last two months, fires have damaged a number of oil refineries.

India: A fire broke out at India’s large new Pachpadra refinery a day before it was to open. Initial reports suggest a leaking valve was to blame.

Mexico: Two fires have broken out at the troubled Dos Bocas refinery in Tabasco in recent weeks. The flagship state-owned refinery was meant to help Mexico cut dependence on fuel imports and boost energy sovereignty, but production targets have not been hit. The fires have worsened the situation.

United States: In March, a large explosion damaged the Valero Port Arthur Refinery in Texas, spreading toxic smoke throughout nearby communities.

Risk multipliers

This year’s spate of oil refinery fires have taken place as the world grapples with the much larger disruption caused by the US-Iran conflict.

These smaller incidents act as risk multipliers, amplifying the impact of the Iran war. The global energy system is already under pressure from geopolitical fragmentation, strained supply chains and contested shipping routes.

What they show is how vulnerable our energy systems are to disruption – even outside a war zone.

Aging infrastructure, reduced maintenance and increasingly complex systems mean even small fires or unit failures can escalate into significant supply disruptions.

During the first big oil shocks of the 1970s, the oil market was much less interconnected. Today’s oil system now has fewer backups and higher complexity, leaving it even more exposed to disruption, whether by accident or on purpose. Localised shocks can ripple further.

The 2026 energy crisis isn’t only a story about conflict in the Middle East. It’s also about a global energy system running on fumes. We should see news of a refinery fire not as an isolated industrial event – but as a sign of system under strain.

Meredith Primrose Jones 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.

Along with a drop in temperatures, May brings plenty of new streaming options, whether you’re after some classic American political drama, or some local family TV you can enjoy with the kids.

We’ve also got Timothée Chalamet’s Oscar-nominated film Marty Supreme coming to Stan, as well as a new series from Richard Gadd (of Baby Reindeer fame) on HBO Max. Sit back, grab a blanket, and enjoy.

All The President’s Men

Prime Video and Apple TV

All the President’s Men, which has just turned 50, was based on the 1974 book by journalists Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, who investigated the Watergate scandal for the Washington Post.

A masterpiece of political cinema, All The President’s Men remains one of the finest films about investigative journalism ever made. Steeped in a fog of paranoia and distrust – an atmosphere shaped in no small part by cinematographer Gordon Willis’ matchless treatment of light and shade – it is as relevant now as it was on first release.

Redford was the driving force behind the film. Convinced that the story demanded a restrained, quasi-documentary approach, he initially envisioned a black-and-white film shot in a pared-back style, with an emphasis on process rather than star power.

Warner Bros, with whom he had a production deal, thought otherwise. Having already agreed to finance the film, the studio insisted that Redford take a leading role – and marketed the as yet-unmade project as “the most devastating detective story” of the century.

The result is an endlessly watchable and quotable (“Follow the money”) film that generates narrative and dramatic tension through the sheer difficultly of knowing anything at all.

In age beset by disinformation, brazen political deceit, strategic obfuscation and collapsing trust in public institutions, that lesson feels less historically distant than it does disturbingly prescient.

– Alexander Howard

Read more: All The President’s Men at 50: one of the finest films about investigative journalism ever made

Caper Crew

ABC iView

The ABC’s new series Caper Crew follows 12-year-old Amelia Delaney (Isabella Zhang) and her 9-year-old brother Kai (Luka Sero), who live in Woodspring, “the most boring town on Earth”. That is, apart from one incident 27 years ago when the infamous Kangaroo Gang stole the town’s priceless golden meteorite. “The Nug” was never found, despite a $100,000 reward.

When their mysterious con-artist grandmother, Queenie, appears out of the blue and starts teaching them the art of the grift, Amelia and Kai can’t help but wonder: was Queenie part of the Kangaroo Gang? Does she know where The Nug is? The siblings join forces with their friends Penelope (Caitlin Niemotko) and Ophelbert (Tevita Hu) on a mission to find the lost object.

The young cast members are very endearing. The adults don’t disappoint, either; Tina Bursill is magnetic as Queenie, while Annie Maynard and ABC-favourite Michael Theo captivate as Mayor Katinkatonk and drama teacher Jojo Encore, respectively.

For parents and carers watching with kids, Caper Crew combines a Wes Anderson-esque visual quality with a nostalgic ode to millennial classics such as Matilda and Harriet the Spy. It may charm younger viewers into taking up magic, or planning their own heists. It also reminds us just how good Australian family TV can be, with a bit of resourcing.

– Alexa Scarlata

Read more: ABC’s Caper Crew delivers heists and heart – a bright spot in a struggling kids’ TV sector

Riot Women

SBS On Demand

“And you thought The Clash were angry!” retorts Beth (Joanna Scanlan), describing her newly-formed punk band of women largely 50 years and over.

Riot Women, a hilarious five-part BBC drama series, champions strong female characters whose dilemmas authentically reflect the female experience. The band’s tracks Hot Flush, I’m Not Done Yet, and Invisible No More counter society’s assumption that menopausal women have a use-by date.

Punk is used as a metaphor for female rampage, rather than the show’s subject – and despite some dark storylines (including suicide and violence against women), the show is a raucous celebration of women on their own terms. These women find joy and energy in mid-life, emerging as formidable because they no longer give a damn.

Riot Women is written by Sally Wainwright and co-directed by Wainwright and the late Amanda Brotchie, an enormously talented Australian director.

The outstanding ensemble cast is drawn from the crème de la crème of British talent, with Joanna Scanlan as Beth, Rosalie Craig as Kitty, Lorraine Ashbourne as Jess, Tamsin Greig as Holly, and Amelia Bullmore as Yvonne.

It’s an original, emotionally resonant and high-quality drama that, like much of Wainwright’s work, doesn’t disappoint.

– Lisa French

Marty Supreme

Stan, from May 15

Marty Supreme is a frenetic tale inspired by Marty Reisman, the charismatic American table tennis champion of the 1950s.

Charged by Timothée Chalamet’s electric lead performance – alongside a stellar supporting cast (including Gwyneth Paltrow), and director Josh Safdie’s signature, anxiety-inducing aesthetic – the film captures a young man’s all-or-nothing quest for greatness.

Marty Mauser is a morally ambiguous protagonist engaged in a sociopathic, self-obsessed pursuit of glory. But Safdie invites the audience to champion his quest. In this, Marty emerges as a particularly compelling entry into Hollywood’s longstanding tradition of unlikable heroes.

How does Safdie succeed in creating a protagonist who – despite lying that his mother died during childbirth and neglecting his pregnant girlfriend – nonetheless wins the audience’s support?

Marty’s championing is undoubtedly in part due to Chalamet’s star image and onscreen charisma. And his quest for greatness depicts the triumphant tale of a figure who, against all odds, continues to pursue his dreams with obsessive belief.

While his extreme measures may be unsympathetic – and perhaps unforgivable – Marty’s fundamental desire to transcend his circumstances remains relatable. His unrelenting commitment to his dream catalyses his moral failing. But he is nonetheless a figure capable of tenderness.

While Marty Supreme dramatises the egotistical pursuit of its flawed protagonist, it ultimately explores the universal ambition to dream big – and questions what is worth sacrificing in order to achieve success.

–Oscar Bloomfield

Read more: Antihero Marty Supreme is sociopathic in his pursuit of glory. Why do we want him to win?

Lizard

Mubi

Lizard (2020) is a Sundance-winning short film by British-Nigerian filmmaker and writer, Akinola Davies Jr. Currently streaming on Mubi, alongside Davies’ BAFTA-winning debut feature My Father’s Shadow (2025), it’s a magical and gritty portrait of religion, hypocrisy and violence.

Co-written with his brother, Wale Davies, Lizard is based on Davies Jr’s own childhood experiences. The thematically nuanced 18-minute narrative follows the inquisitive eight-year-old Juwon who, following some misbehaviour and removal from her Sunday school service, confronts the criminal underbelly of her Lagos church.

The fluidity between the real and surreal is central to Davies Jr’s cinematic imagination. Juwon is gifted with the ability to sense danger. Her mystic-like intuition materialises in the presence of the eponymous agama lizard: a figure who leads the young girl through her milieu.

The film masterfully blends elements of the fantastical with realist stylisation. It’s a portrayal of sociopolitical corruption and exploitation, but also extends beyond this. Through Juwon’s child-like imagination, it confronts the processes of understanding trauma and memory – with the film’s sensibilities questioning reality’s supposed superiority over fantasy.

Davies Jr is cementing himself as an exciting, distinctive voice in international cinema. I’m looking forward to watching My Father’s Shadow.

– Oscar Bloomfield

Half Man

HBO Max

Richard Gadd is perhaps best known for his hugely successful series, Baby Reindeer. Part of the unsettling thrill of that Emmy-award winning series was watching a dramatisation of Gadd’s own experience of being stalked. We saw a vulnerable protagonist, played by Gadd, drawn into considerably uncomfortable situations.

Now Gadd has returned to our screens with a new series called Half Man. A similar viewing experience to Baby Reindeer is established in the opening episode, where we witness a vulnerable, isolated young man get drawn into a toxic relationship. Gadd is a master at building tension and discomfort.

Niall (Jamie Bell) is visited by his estranged step-brother Ruben (Gadd) on his wedding day. After a violent confrontation, we jump back 30 years to when they were two schoolboys. Ruben has just gotten out of youth detention and, since his mother is dating and living with Niall’s mother, he has no choice but to move in and share Niall’s room.

As boys, a young Ruben (Stuart Campbell) is prone to violent outbursts at any moment, and young Niall (Mitchell Robinson) is shy and bullied by his classmates for being perceived as gay. The early dynamics between the two boys make for incredibly unsettling viewing. But knowing how good the emotional pay-off of Baby Reindeer was, I can’t wait to see where the series goes.

– Stuart Richards

The authors 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.

The government’s plan to fund Australian journalism through a levy on digital platforms rests on a sound premise: a healthy democracy depends on reliable information.

But this latest attempt — following the shortcomings of the News Media Bargaining Code — is a high-risk move.

We live in an era of polluted information with serious consequences for public debate and democratic health. In addition, professional journalism no longer holds the central role it once did in informing citizens or shaping political consensus.

Many Australians, particularly younger people, get their news and information from social media and increasingly from influencers and AI chatbots. ChatGPT alone has almost one billion weekly users globally.

Meanwhile, Australian influencers such as Konrad Benjamin, a former high school teacher breaking down politics for under-30s under the name Punter’s Politics, attract millions of likes, often surpassing mainstream outlets.

A complex, fragmented media environment

What is clear is that professional journalism is only one part of today’s fragmented information landscape. That landscape is increasingly polluted by misinformation and conspiracy theories that erode trust and weaken democracy. Globally, democracy is backsliding, with measurable decline for 20 consecutive years.

The United States offers a cautionary example of a deeply polarised information environment where falsehoods can spill into political violence. Properly supporting professional journalism is a means to filter extremism and help citizens distinguish fact from fiction.

Most Australians have little confidence in their own abilities to spot misinformation, with 74% reporting they find it difficult. This problem becomes urgent during election campaigns, when political falsehoods could potentially sway votes.

The Albanese government is responding to these threats in acknowledging the importance of journalism with draft legislation for a News Bargaining Incentive (NBI). It is a new scheme designed to fund Australian reporting by requiring digital platforms with revenues above $250 million (explicitly Google, Meta and TikTok) to contribute to a funding pool to be shared with public-interest news providers.

Why it’s a high-risk move

So why is this a high-risk endeavour that may meet the same fate as the NMBC, which saw Meta and, more recently, Google step back from paying for news content?

First, the positives. From the pooled funds it will generate stable funding for journalism even if platforms do not do deals, much needed for regional media and start-ups where funding is critical. In this way it also addresses a criticism of the NMBC, which was skewed to major media players such as News Corp and Nine.

It is also a stronger “stick” than the NMBC, imposing a 2.25% charge on high-revenue platforms unless they secure sufficient agreements with publishers, creating an incentive to negotiate.

But does it go far enough? Some independent media operators fear their outlets could still miss out on making deals under a 25% per-recipient cap that effectively means only four deals with big outlets need be done to be eligible for the offset.

The NBI has stronger leverage than the NMBC, which relied on ministerial designation that was never used. At first, the NMBC appeared successful without it, with Meta and Google signing more than 30 deals worth more than A$200 million. But Canada’s Online News Act shows the limits of this model when Canada sought to introduce a similar scheme: Meta removed news from its platforms entirely, avoiding the obligation and exposing its fragility.

The NMBC later weakened as Google became the only major platform doing deals in Australia. The company has recently signalled it will not renew some of these. This shift might help explain the timing of the NBI’s re-emergence and the structural shift from competition to tax law to compel platform compliance.

Now for the risks, of which timing is one. The NBI was drafted in 2024 but put on ice when US President Donald Trump voiced strong opposition to digital services taxes, calling them “discriminatory” measures targeting US companies. For some pundits, including Meta, the NBI is effectively a digital services tax.

Trump has previously threatened tariffs against countries pursuing such measures.

Against that backdrop, and given Australia’s recent exposure to trade tariffs and Trump’s criticisms of Australia over the Iran war, the timing of this renewed announcement is tricky. Meta chief executive Mark Zuckerberg has direct access to Trump, and both Meta and Google have already criticised the NBI.

While traditional media has welcomed the announcement through a signed joint statement, some platform criticisms warrant attention.

Why are multinational digital platforms that also distribute news and with more than $250 million in Australian revenue, such as Apple and LinkedIn, carved out of the scheme? And why is AI, with its rapidly growing user base and reliance on news content to train and refine systems, not included?

The explanations offered so far – that AI will be addressed separately and that Apple and LinkedIn employ editorial teams – are unconvincing.

Questions to answer

Then there are system design questions that the consultation period is sure to raise. For example:

• how do you define journalism in an age of influencers, social media and chatbots?
• who qualifies for funding?
• are the current eligibility criteria fit for purpose under the NBI to ensure the scheme supports continued investment in public-interest news, diversity of media voices, and quality journalism?
• will this include influencers such as Konrad Benjamin, who has large audiences for his explainer reporting?

This is a live debate that the short three-week consultation period is sure to raise before closing on May 18.

And perhaps the biggest risk of all: backfire. The NBI needs to avoid unintended consequences, such as when news was pulled from Meta’s platforms in Canada. The unintended outcome was long-term smaller audiences for professional journalism. Australia cannot risk backfire effects at a time when quality journalism has never been more critical for safeguarding democracy.

Andrea Carson receives funding from Australian Research Council examining media and political trust. She has previously received Meta funding to examine misinformation online.

Diana Bossio 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.

Have you ever paid more for a product because a brand told you it was good for you and the planet? Many activewear shoppers do exactly this, trusting that the “healthy” image on the label matches what is actually in the fabric. That trust is now being questioned.

The Texas Attorney General’s office has launched a formal investigation into the activewear brand Lululemon. The question: does its activewear contain PFAS, a group of toxic “forever chemicals”?

This sits uncomfortably with a brand built on wellness. Lululemon has denied the claims. It says it phased out PFAS in 2023 and that these chemicals had only ever been used in a small number of water-repellent items. No wrongdoing has been found.

But the case highlights a wider problem: a gap between what fashion brands promise and what is actually in their products.

An industry-wide habit

PFAS (per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances) are synthetic chemicals used to make fabrics resistant to water, stains and sweat. They have also been used in nonstick cookware and some food packaging.

They earned the name “forever chemicals” because they do not break down easily in the environment or our bodies. Instead, they accumulate over time.

This is not a single-brand issue; it is a widespread one. Their use runs across much of the fashion industry.

The issue first came to wide attention in 2011, when Greenpeace’s “Dirty Laundry” investigation named several global giants for links to dumping perfluorinated chemicals (PFCs), now broadly classified as PFAS, into Chinese waterways.

The health risks of PFAS exposure

While most major brands promised to phase out PFAS by 2020, follow-up testing shows they still appear in leggings and sports bras across the sector. The transition has been slow because finding safer alternatives that perform just as well is both expensive and technically complex.

This matters because of how we wear activewear. Scientists have found that sweat can increase how much of these chemicals are absorbed through the skin during intense exercise.

Exposure has been linked to serious health risks, including kidney and testicular cancers, hormonal disruption, and immune system damage.

Brands that promote a “wellness” identity make the gap between marketing and chemistry hard to ignore.

The language of greenwashing

Walk into any sports store and you will see labels such as “clean”, “conscious” or “responsible”.

These words are reassuring, but they lack any legal definition under Australian law, meaning brands can use them without meeting a specific standard. That said, Australia’s consumer watchdog, the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission, is increasingly scrutinising such claims and has the power to take action against businesses that mislead consumers.

Research shows many companies use “green” language to build a positive image without making real environmental changes.

Evidence submitted to a 2023 Australian Senate inquiry into greenwashing highlighted that new buzzwords can be invented on social media in real time with zero oversight. This makes it almost impossible for shoppers to tell the difference between genuine sustainability and clever marketing.

Around 60% of green claims by European fashion giants have been found to be misleading, yet consumers still struggle to identify deceptive sustainability claims.

This is not the shopper’s fault. When a brand charges a premium for “wellness”, it is reasonable to expect those words to mean something concrete.

As the Texas Attorney General noted, companies should not

sell harmful, toxic materials to consumers at a premium price under the guise of wellness and sustainability.

The failure of voluntary standards

The real problem is the fashion system runs on self-regulation. Most sustainability standards in Australia are voluntary, a stark contrast to the European Union, where mandatory regulations are already coming into force.

There are more than 100 voluntary certifications globally in the textile industry alone, yet they lack consistent definitions and independent oversight. Brands choose whether to follow them and report their own results, facing no real consequences if they fall short.

Regulators are finally starting to act. In 2022, the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission found 57% of businesses reviewed made questionable environmental claims, with clothing and footwear among the worst-performing sectors.

While guidelines released in December 2023 now require green claims to be backed by evidence, it is still easier for a brand to say it is “sustainable” than to prove it.

The Lululemon investigation is not a reason to panic, but it is a reason to ask harder questions. When a brand uses a “clean” label, who checked it? What standards did they use? Right now, the industry does not have good answers.

Until we move from a system of voluntary promises to one of legal requirements, “sustainable” will remain a marketing choice rather than a guarantee.

Saniyat Islam is affiliated with The Textile Institute

Caroline Swee Lin Tan 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.