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.