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.

Australian author Craig Silvey, known for his bestselling books Jasper Jones, Honeybee and Runt, has pleaded guilty to possessing and distributing child exploitation material. Two further charges were dropped, including allegations he produced child exploitation material.

Silvey is yet to be sentenced – but what we do with his books will be decided outside the court of law. Families, libraries, schools and bookshops may be struggling to know how to proceed. Is it possible to separate the art from the artist?

The recent cancellation of First Nations children’s book Bila by University of Queensland Press – scrapped because of statements made by its illustrator, not anything in the book itself – is a reminder that destroying books is always problematic.

But sitting with the discomfort of keeping Silvey’s books in circulation is genuinely hard when children have been harmed. What do we tell a young person who asks why their favourite book has disappeared from the shelf – or why it hasn’t?

A personal betrayal

A generation of Australians has grown up with Jasper Jones, a fixture on school reading lists – along with its popular stage adaptation and film. For the many who continue to feel deeply attached to the texts they study in high school, Silvey’s conviction may feel like a personal betrayal.

On TikTok, one young woman is throwing her copies of Honeybee and Jasper Jones in the bin, with the caption “one of my favourite authors … no longer”.

My own gender fluid kids are acutely aware of J.K. Rowling’s critical views on trans people. They won’t watch the new Harry Potter adaptations, but have not thrown out their books. Young people have different ways of sitting with such tensions – and that’s OK.

Parents may no longer feel comfortable keeping Silvey’s books, or may be reluctant to remove a child’s favourite book, especially amid a global downturn in children reading for pleasure. Deciding what to do together with the books could be a way to help a young person process their feelings.

Gentle, age-appropriate honesty will be important in these difficult conversations. For younger children, that might mean something simple and direct: “Craig Silvey looked at pictures and videos of children being hurt, and shared them with others. That is against the law, and it harmed real children.” No young person should be made to feel ashamed for having loved these books.

A problem with Jasper Jones

Jasper Jones (2009) sold nearly a million copies worldwide. It was voted one of ABC Radio National’s 100 Best Books of the 21st century. So was Silvey’s controversial novel about a troubled trans teenager, Honeybee (2020), winner of the 2021 Australian Indie Book Award. His award-winning illustrated novel Runt (2022) attracted a younger audience, spurning a sequel and a feature film.

In Jasper Jones, which defined Silvey’s career, 13-year-old Charlie is drawn into the aftermath of a young woman’s death by Indigenous character Jasper, who knows he will be blamed for it. Charlie helps him hide Laura’s body. In the novel’s denouement, we discover she was the victim of sexual abuse perpetrated by her own father; she died by suicide.

Jasper Jones was published in Australia as adult literary fiction. But in the United States, it was published as young adult fiction, making the American Library Association’s 2012 Best Fiction for Young Adults list. It was then repackaged as young adult in Australia.

While I don’t advocate censorship, I’ve long found the novel’s presence on school text lists troubling: Laura’s sexual abuse and death by suicide exist primarily to catalyse the growth of a young male protagonist. I have always felt the original decision to publish Jasper Jones as adult fiction – which would have driven editorial decisions, including its (bleak) ending – was correct.

Are we ‘cancelling’ Silvey?

Following Silvey’s arrest in January 2026, his Australian publishers Allen & Unwin and Fremantle Press halted promotion of his work. Major booksellers pulled his titles. Australian state education departments removed his books from curricula. The Belvoir Theatre Company announced it would indefinitely pause the stage adaptation of Runt it had scheduled for this August.

Has Silvey been “cancelled”? As acclaimed novelist Rebecca Makkai wrote about author Alice Munro, after it was revealed Munro turned a blind eye to her second husband’s abuse of her daughter, it’s not that simple.

“Canceled” implies that something, collectively, has been done to the author, rather than that individual people are making choices to relinquish, perhaps with great pain and mourning, the work of a writer they once loved. Or to relinquish some of it. Or to look at it quite differently.

You may still be able to find Silvey’s books in your local library. Libraries have collection policies to help guide decisions in situations like this. Most Australian public libraries operate under policies aligned with the Australian Library and Information Association’s free access to information principles, which explicitly resist the removal of material on moral or reputational grounds.

Unless a title is legally prohibited, a library has limited grounds to remove a book simply because its author has been convicted of an offence. To do otherwise risks setting a precedent that could lead to censorship.

That said, many librarians will likely be quietly reconsidering how prominently Silvey’s titles are displayed.

So much at stake

Months before his arrest, Silvey toured Australian schools to promote the sequel to Runt. There is no direct link between his crime and his books or public appearances – unlike the case of Sydney children’s author Oliver Phommavanh, sentenced to jail in February for sending sexually explicit messages to three underage students. (Two had contacted him after he visited their schools.)

However, Silvey’s access to children through his public standing must be unsettling for the many organisations who have hosted him. And cases like these risk unbalancing the fragile trust between schools and children’s authors.

As a children’s author myself, I once relied on school visits as a source of income and a way to connect with my readers. Most children’s authors are good, kind people, passionate about books. School visits and assigned texts by living authors can help inspire a lifelong love of reading.

Today, I’m thinking of the collaborators who were involved in producing Silvey’s books and their adaptations – and dedicated years to bringing his stories to life. I’m thinking of the parents, grandparents, booksellers, librarians and teachers who have put these books in young people’s hands. And of the children and young adults who love his books.

But most importantly, behind Silvey’s guilty plea are children who were exploited and abused. Concerns about his art, its legacy, or the shockwaves in Australian children’s literature are worth thinking about – but shouldn’t obscure that fact.

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If this article has raised issues for you, or if you’re concerned about someone you know, call Lifeline on 13 11 14.

Penni Russon 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.

This is our home. If we destroy it, and we can’t build it up, then that’s a part of the Earth that’s destroyed, and we won’t be able to get it back.

Matthew, aged ten, isn’t alone in feeling this way.

We interviewed 15 Australian primary school children aged between nine and 12-years-old about environmental change, which includes things such as pollution, climate change and deforestation.

Every child knew the environment was changing, and all of them had feelings about it too.

Worry was most common. We also heard sadness, anger and hopelessness.

These were thoughtful, complex responses from children paying attention to the world around them.

Most research focuses on teens and young adults

We have known for some time that environmental change profoundly impacts mental health. Eco-anxiety refers to worry about environmental decline. It is not a clinical diagnosis and sits within the range of normal emotions for most people.

Eco-anxiety is a rational response to a real threat. However, for some, it impacts functioning (such as sleep and cognition) and can cause significant distress.

Global studies, including a survey of 10,000 young people across ten countries have documented high rates of eco-anxiety in adolescents and young adults – 59% of respondents were very or extremely worried.

But to date, almost all eco-anxiety research has focused on young people aged 16-25-years-old.

The handful of studies conducted in primary school children only offer a preliminary picture, with small samples from Canada and the US.

The experiences of primary school children are therefore poorly understood.

Our interviews offer new insights into this overlooked group.

‘I’m gonna have to deal with it’

The Australian primary school children we interviewed were not vague about their fears.

They worried about animals going extinct, about rising sea levels, about whether the planet would be liveable when they grew up.

One 12-year-old described thinking about

what will happen when I’m older, and how I’m gonna have to deal with it.

They also understood that human activity played a large role and were frustrated that more hadn’t been done by governments and past generations. One ten-year-old told us:

(I’m) mad at the people who could have solved the problem before now, but they didn’t. They just thought “It’s fine, this problem doesn’t really matter”. And then look at the world now, it’s such a big problem.

Eco-anxiety also shaped children’s behaviours and thoughts.

Some attended protests, put up posters or reduced their plastic use, to help them feel calmer. This problem-focused coping can help reduce negative eco-emotions and build a sense of agency.

Importantly, for most children their worries about the environment were not persistent and did not affect their daily lives. We know from research on older children that eco-anxiety can increase over time; persistently high eco-anxiety can be linked to mental health concerns in young adults.

It’s crucial we understand what shapes the early development of these feelings and what makes them manageable.

A role for schools

One unexpected finding was how hopeful children were.

A third of children expressed genuine belief that the environment could recover. One ten-year-old told us:

I just think there’s a possibility that it can get better. And if we try hard enough, we’ll all get there eventually, and we can help it survive.

Hope seems to be more common in younger children than older children and can be protective. It offers the potential for children to channel concern into action rather than helplessness.

However, schools and parents need to create more opportunities for children to act, alongside acknowledging their fears.

Our ongoing research suggests that teachers regularly face children’s eco-emotions about environmental change – which might include curiosity or information-seeking – without adequate training or guidance.

One child in our study noted that her school “wasn’t doing it very effectively” and wanted teachers to take the topic more seriously.

Without the opportunity to discuss their feelings and with a heavy focus on individual actions (such as recycling) children can feel disproportionately responsible, which increases distress rather than reducing it.

Collective action, open discussions of emotions, and education that reflects the true extent of environmental change is likely to help children.

These feelings deserve to be taken seriously

The goal is not to eliminate eco-anxiety in children, but to keep it at a manageable level that doesn’t affect their ability to function in day to day life.

We can then help children to use eco-anxiety as a foundation for action.

It’s important to note we spoke to only 15 children, mostly from metropolitan areas. We cannot say how widespread these experiences are, or how they differ by age, gender, or location. Answering those questions requires more research over longer time frames and with bigger cohorts.

Children are watching, thinking and feeling things about the future of the environment. Those feelings deserve to be taken seriously.

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.

Amid a worsening global energy crisis, New Zealand and Singapore’s freshly struck deal to keep fuel and other essential goods flowing is being touted as a boost to supply chain resilience.

The agreement commits both countries not to impose export restrictions on each other during economic upheaval. But it also highlights an uncomfortable reality facing New Zealand’s energy security, which depends heavily on fuel stored and refined overseas.

Nearly 60% of the country’s petroleum reserves are held offshore in countries such as the United States, Japan and the United Kingdom, and around a third of its fuel is refined in Singapore. As global tensions disrupt oil markets and put pressure on key shipping routes, that model is being tested.

While New Zealand meets international requirements to hold 90 days of net petroleum imports as a member of the International Energy Agency (IEA), much of this is stored thousands of kilometres away.

In emergencies, the IEA can coordinate collective stock releases to stabilise global markets, as occurred in the agency’s release of 400 million barrels of oil in March.

However, a closer look at the data shows New Zealand is a clear outlier in how it meets these obligations.

How NZ’s fuel security has shifted offshore

To remain compliant, the New Zealand government buys “ticket” contracts – or contractual claims on oil stored in other countries.

While these count toward the country’s 90-day requirement, they are effectively rights to purchase fuel that may never reach its shores during a major disruption, such as the closure of the Strait of Hormuz.

In January, New Zealand’s total petroleum reserves stood at exactly 90 days’ supply. This meets the IEA’s minimum requirement, but is the second-lowest reserve among members, ahead of only Australia’s 49-day capacity.

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New Zealand is also the only IEA member whose public oil reserves are fully overseas.

By contrast, countries such as Japan and South Korea hold around 200 days of reserves domestically, leaving them far better prepared for global supply shocks.

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It comes after New Zealand’s heavy reliance on offshore reserves has grown sharply over the past 15 years.

IEA data shows the country’s domestically-held industry stocks made up more than 90% of reserves in 2010–11, while public offshore holdings accounted for less than 10%.

By 2026, that balance had flipped. Industry stocks had fallen to 42%, while government-owned reserves held abroad had risen to 58%.

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As companies cut physical inventories to reduce costs, the government filled the gap with ticket contracts to maintain compliance with the IEA’s 90-day requirement.

This shift effectively means New Zealand’s domestic resilience has been hollowed out. In January, for instance, the country held just 38 days of onshore petroleum stocks – far below the average of IEA members and of other Asia-Pacific nations.

The New Zealand government’s recent move to procure 90 million litres of diesel at Marsden Point will add roughly nine days of supply.

While a positive step, it remains small compared to the much larger domestic buffers maintained elsewhere.

The economic cost of fuel uncertainty

Because oil is a major driver of inflation, this all matters greatly to the average New Zealand household.

Last month, local diesel prices surged to over $3.80 a litre, almost double what they were before the Iran conflict. Because diesel powers farming and transport – both cornerstones of the New Zealand economy – these costs ripple through the entire supply chain.

When geopolitical risks rise, businesses increase “precautionary demand”, hoarding fuel inventory to avoid shortfalls. This reduces available supply and pushes prices even higher.

Research suggests the most effective way to reduce exposure to energy price volatility is through financial hedging or by holding physical fuel reserves. Holding reserves helps buffer against sudden supply shocks and reduce the risk of stockouts.

New Zealand, however, has only a thin physical fuel buffer. So what might be done?

Increasing onshore petroleum stocks can strengthen short-term energy resilience. But bigger oil tanks are not a lasting solution: true energy independence requires reducing New Zealand’s underlying oil consumption.

In this sense, there is much room for improvement. IMF data shows New Zealand has a relatively low level of trade in low-carbon technologies, at just 1.3% of GDP in 2024 – well below the IEA average of 4.76%.

To bolster its energy security in the meantime, New Zealand could look at increasing strategic onshore reserves, while shifting away from ticket contracts toward physical stockpiles to support critical sectors such as farming and freight.

At the same time, it could make a greater push toward electrification and the uptake of alternative energy sources, particularly by powering transport with renewable electricity.

Ultimately, this requires an orderly transition away from oil altogether, with a clear national focus on reducing dependence over time.

Right now, New Zealand’s strategy is a gamble on global stability. To protect the economy from future global oil supply shocks, it must bring its petroleum reserves home – then work hard to make them obsolete.

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.

Standing by the counter at the pharmacist waiting to pick up my prescription, I couldn’t help noticing the prominent display of probiotics on the counter. It was two years ago, and I was reading everything I could find on microbiomes and probiotics – whether in books, journals or in shops – in preparation for writing my book The Microbiome: What Everyone Needs to Know.

For days I had focused just on probiotics and here they were, temptingly in front of me, ready for me to buy. The packaging was so glossy and it’s claims so intriguing, I found myself picking up the box to see what they were saying.

“Supporting gut health.” “Friendly bacteria.”

I was about to get antibiotics for my tonsillitis. Should I get some probiotics? I’d heard they might help replace the “good” gut bacteria that antibiotics can wipe out.

The pharmacist knew me by sight, partly because he had just looked down my throat and prescribed them for me and partly because I’m a local GP. He nodded encouragingly and pointed at the display. “These are very popular,” he said.

I turned the box over. The packaging did best when describing what it contained. Thirty capsules to be taken every day, each containing 5 billion live cultures. I compared it with the others on the shelf. Some contained 2 billion, some 10 billion. One contained 25 billion bacteria per capsule. It was a huge number and a huge dosage range. Were these dosages safe?

It wasn’t so clear on what live cultures were exactly, describing them variously as “trusted” or “friendly”. Higher-dose brands described themselves as “diverse” or “powerful”, sounding more like the boardroom of a Fortune 500 company than a dietary supplement.

When it came to what they did, things became vague. Apparently, probiotics are there to “complement your natural gut bacteria” or alternatively to “complement your everyday life”.

It took a bit of time for the pharmacist to package up my medication and label it, so I carried on and read the small print. Each brand was very confident its ability to survive the stomach acid: they were also confident on the research. “Most researched live culture.” “Highly researched strains.” I had no difficulty in believing this, it was the lack of claims to efficacy that baffled me.

Finally, I found the actual ingredients. Each listed their various combinations of bacteria, some containing up to 15 different sorts, but always including several versions of lactobacilli and bifidobactera.

Lactobacillus acidophilus I knew as a bacteria needed to make yogurt. Bifidobacteria are also often used in the food industry. Both are typical residents of our guts, known to account for about 12% of our usual gut bacteria.

So why do probiotic products all seem to contain the same bacterial species? And why are their claims always so deliberately vague?

Almost one in 20 adults are taking probiotics: typically those of us with higher educational levels, higher incomes and better diets. If we just knew a bit more about microbes, would we still want to take them?

Stomach acid – the great destroyer

It is normal to consume a lot of bacteria on our food. Even with freshly washed or cooked food, on a typical day we consume 1.3 billion bacteria a day either on or in our food.

As soon as our food hits the stomach, our high levels of stomach acid kill or injure almost all the bacteria we consume. Only a few ever reach the colon and those few probiotic bacteria that survive usually only ever stay a few days.

But to swallow a probiotic capsule containing 25 billion, is 20 times the number of bacteria our body is used to handling: a huge microbial load. Even “friendly” probiotic bacteria can cause a serious infection if they get in the wrong place, such as the blood stream. It’s true that most people can manage this huge microbial load fine because of our innate gut defence systems. But probiotics should be avoided by those with weak immune systems, who may be less able to keep these bacteria contained and are at higher risk of them spreading and causing infection.

The reason that out of all the millions of bacteria available in the world, probiotic brands always home in on exactly the same microbes is because these are all bacteria that are known to be safe or used in the food industry since before 1958. If a microbe is officially designated “Generally Recognized As Safe”, then the producer need undertake no further research. And if the producer then sticks to general claims of efficacy – what’s known as a “qualified health claim”, they don’t even have to prove it works.

But even with no efficacy claims at all, the probiotic industry still seems to get its message across – and, as I handled the box of probiotics, I still had a strong feeling that this product was good for me, would make me healthier and that I should buy it.

I held the box uncertainly. “Do you want these as well?” the pharmacist asked. I checked the price: £17.99 for 30 probiotic capsules (low dose) for something I already had inside me from eating ordinary food. I decided to stick to the antibiotic prescription only, for £9.90.

So, do probiotics work? I have learned to equivocate when asked this, because people who ask me – usually enthusiastically and with a smile – are invested in the concept of probiotics and have often already been taking them. To avoid upsetting people I now usually say: “Well, they probably haven’t done you any harm.” Apart from the cost.

Berenice Langdon is the author of: The microbiome: What Everyone Needs to Know, published by Oxford University Press.

The 2026 Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute Gala has delivered, as per usual, the who’s who of Hollywood, decked out to the nines.

This year’s dress code was “Fashion is Art”, linked to the Met’s new Costume Art exhibition, open to the public from May 10.

The theme invites us to focus on the human silhouette as a kind of canvas – pushing beyond haute couture into the domain of wearable art. Here’s our pick of ten attendees who we think nailed the brief.

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Read more: The 2026 Met Gala dress code is ‘Fashion is Art’. But is it?

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1. Heidi Klum

Model Heidi Klum wowed spectators as she made her way up the famous Met stairs. Her outfit was inspired by Italian sculptor Raffaele Monti’s (1818–81) iconic Veiled Vestal statue, replicated in latex and foam to give Klum a stony look.

Marble statues with draped fabrics gained popularity in the 1700s, with many giving the illusion of translucence through careful composition.

Klum is well-known for pushing the envelope and embracing complete bodily transformations during themed events.

2. Luke Evans

Actor Luke Evans brought up the temperature up with an iconic head-to-toe leather outfit designed by Palomo Spain and inspired by Finnish drawing artist Touko Valio Laaksonen (1920–91), known by his pseudonym “Tom of Finland”.

Laaksonen developed a series of artworks depicting homoerotic fantasies which have become part of wider queer culture symbolism. He pioneered a recognisable gay aesthetic embraced by the likes of Freddie Mercury, and which pushed the boundaries of queer representation globally.

3. Ben Platt

Singer and actor Ben Platt wore a custom hand-painted and embroidered Tanner Fletcher suit inspired by the work of French post-Impressionist artist Georges Seurat (1859–91).

Specifically, his suit jacket references Seurat’s 1884 painting A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte. This painting was also the inspiration behind Stephen Sondheim’s Broadway musical A Sunday in the Park with George.

Seurat was known for his incredibly small paint strokes, which inspired the term “pointillism”.

4. Dree Hemingway

Wearing a look shown on Alessandro Michele’s Valentino Spring Summer 2026 Couture runway, along with draped lab-grown diamond jewels by Pandora, actor Dree Hemingway embraced an oversized and fluid interpretation of an Elizabethan collar decorated in gold.

5. Miles Chamley-Watson

American fencer Miles Chamley-Watson embraced this year’s theme by turning himself into a Cubist artwork, walking down the Met carpet in an abstract painted suit and fencing kit.

Cubism is an abstract art movement popularised in the early 20th century by artists such as Pablo Picasso and Georges Braque. It depicts figures, objects and scenes through radical fragmentation.

6. Kendall Jenner

Media personality Kendall Jenner wore a GapStudio by Zac Posen dress reminiscent of the Winged Victory of Samothrace. This 2nd century Greek statue of the goddess of victory sits proudly the top of the Daru staircase in the Louvre.

With a digitally-scanned leather corset and breast plate that hides yet celebrates the nipple, it is yet another example of marble reinterpreted through textile. Discussing the look, Posen explained how he stretched, twisted and reinterpreted a white Gap t-shirt to bridge the gap between accessible fashion and costume.

7. Hunter Schafer

Euphoria actor and transgender rights activist Hunter Schafer’s custom empire-waist Prada look was directly inspired by Gustav Klimt’s (1862–1918) seven-foot painting Mäda Primavesi.

This portrait is part of the Met’s permanent collection. It depicts 9-year-old Mäda, the daughter of Otto and Eugenia Primavesi, two patrons of Austrian art.

8. Gracie Abrams

Another nod to Klimt came from actor and singer Gracie Abrams. Abrams’ gold Chanel dress was inspired by the Austrian painter’s portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I (1907), popularly referred to as the Woman in Gold.

The look was an embodied representation of the painting, which itself has had a tumultuous history. It was once stolen by the Nazis (as recounted in the 2015 movie Woman in Gold).

9. Anne Hathaway

Actor Anne Hathaway’s ball gown by Michael Kors Collection was hand-painted by artist Peter McGough and inspired by John Yeats‘ 1819 poem Ode on a Grecian Urn. A large, instantly recognisable figure reminiscent of a Greek goddess turns Hathaway into an object of art herself.

10. Naomi Watts

Actor Naomi Watts graced the red carpet in a floral, strapless, floor-length Dior gown inspired by the still life paintings of Dutch artist Rachel Ruysch (1664–1750). Most notable here was Watts’ manicure by nail artist Iram Shelton, who spent five hours installing 30 hand-sculpted 3D flowers.

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.

A person fleeing persecution may not travel with extensive documentation, legal advice or even a neatly ordered account of their situation.

Trauma, fear, language barriers, fragmented evidence and a distrust of authority can significantly shape how they share their story.

This is why New Zealand, like many other countries, has a refugee determination system to assess claims carefully and fairly against a backdrop of someone’s forced displacement.

New Zealand’s proposed Immigration (Enhanced Risk Management) Amendment Bill seeks to shift this system away from its humanitarian orientation and toward one built on suspicion and control.

While the United States provides a clear example of how such a shift can unfold, it is not unique. Across a number of jurisdictions, asylum systems have increasingly been reframed through the language of risk and compliance, with greater emphasis on deterrence and enforcement.

In many countries, immigration policy has been increasingly organised around a preemptive logic – suspect first, verify later – enabled by expanded surveillance and reduced transparency.

New Zealand’s legislative language and political rhetoric about “risk”, “compliance”, and “system integrity” signal a similar shift. Asylum becomes less about protection and more a problem to manage.

Submissions on the Immigration Amendment Bill have now closed, with the select committee due to report by mid-August. But many organisations working within the refugee and asylum sector have said the proposed changes risk undermining fairness, proportionality and the core purpose of refugee protection.

Reduced humanitarian appeals

Some of the proposed changes are technical, but their implications are not.

One provision introduces the idea of “bad faith”, meaning a claim could be discounted if a person is seen to have contributed to their own risk, such as drawing attention to themselves through media or political activity.

This creates a paradox: remain invisible and your claim may lack evidence; become visible and your claim may be questioned.

The bill also narrows what people can do while they await a decision, often for extended periods. Someone who has found a job or formed a committed relationship would be unable to shift onto a work or partnership visa.

For people already living with uncertainty, this undermines efforts to rebuild stability and dignity.

Access to humanitarian appeals would be reduced. These appeals have functioned as an important safeguard, allowing decisions to be revisited when circumstances change. Limiting access narrows the system’s ability to correct itself.

Combined with faster processing and removal of a person from New Zealand, this leaves less room for error and can have potentially life-altering consequences.

This is particularly concerning given research demonstrates the Immigration and Protection Tribunal’s review function operates as a key safeguard, upholding human rights by preventing abrupt removals, or allowing more dignified transitions for those who have to leave.

‘Fortress New Zealand’

The government’s own analysis of the bill identifies a small number of asylum cases involving individuals with serious criminal histories, while acknowledging significant uncertainty in the data.

It notes the difficulty in distinguishing between claims that lack merit and ones that fall short of the legal threshold for establishing fears of persecution under refugee law.

In other words, the scale of the problem is not clearly established. Despite this, concerns about risk appear to have become the government’s central justification for pursuing such wide changes.

This is where the underlying policy logic matters. When uncertainty is treated as risk, and risk as something to be preemptively controlled, thresholds for intervention lower. Measures designed to manage outlier cases can reshape the entire system, affecting many legitimate claims.

Our research on 11,000 asylum claimants in New Zealand over 25 years shows how emphasis on credibility, risk and system integrity have resulted in a pattern we have described as “fortress New Zealand”.

These latest proposed changes are part of an incremental slide away from a protective orientation toward control, efficiency and risk management. It happens not through a single decisive reform but by cumulative adjustments that reshape the system’s character.

Policy drift

Now, National’s coalition partners are calling for tighter immigration controls in general. ACT has proposed extending deportation liability indefinitely, while NZ First leader Winston Peters used social media to say ACT’s proposal “doesn’t even touch the sides”.

This shift toward harsher, enforcement-first immigration settings is not unique to New Zealand. The US experience, particularly under the second Trump administration, illustrates how quickly a protection framework can change.

Deportations increase, access to asylum is constrained, enforcement capacity grows, and refugee admissions are reduced. At the same time, access to judges narrows, enforcement extends into everyday spaces, and personal data is repurposed for immigration control.

New Zealand is not there yet, but the direction of policy drift is recognisable.

At its core, the Immigration Amendment Bill poses a simple question: what kind of asylum system should Aotearoa New Zealand have? One that begins from a position of suspicion, where claims are treated as risks to be managed? Or one grounded in protection while addressing instances of misuse?

Public confidence and system integrity matter. But both depend on balance. When the system tilts too far toward enforcement, it risks undermining the principles it is meant to uphold.

Jay Marlowe received funding from the Royal Society Te Apārangi (New Zealand) through a Rutherford Discovery Fellowship, which supported the research informing this article.

Timothy Fadgen 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.

You’re standing in a supermarket aisle, weighing up whether to buy a microwave meal or a bunch of fresh carrots.

We all know making healthy eating choices can be tough. That’s especially true if you are hungry, or have a hungry household to feed.

There are so many reasons for this, and many are outside our control. But one you might not be aware of is a psychological concept known as “decision fatigue”.

So what exactly is decision fatigue? And could it help or hinder your healthy eating goals?

What is decision fatigue?

Decision fatigue, also known as choice overload, describes what happens when we make many effortful decisions over time.

Whenever you make a decision, you use a small amount of mental energy. As that energy runs low, you tend to make worse decisions.

This means you’re more likely to act without thinking, or simply choose what is easy or familiar. You might also find it harder to plan ahead and resist certain impulses.

This means you might be more likely to grab a takeaway instead of the ingredients to make a meal, or default to familiar comfort foods instead of making intentional, healthy choices.

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Read more: Are we ever truly free to make decisions? New study tracks a universal process in the brain

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How might it affect my eating habits?

The average person makes hundreds of food decisions each day.

You may think you’re just choosing a meal. But that one decision involves making many layered choices about what and how much you eat, as well as where, when and how you eat it.

You may make these choices subconsciously or automatically. But they each require to you weigh up various factors, such as taste, costs, time, expectations and more.

When decision fatigue sets in, you’re less likely to make thoughtful, health-focused choices. Instead, you may gravitate towards options that require less effort and offer quick rewards. You may also become more influenced by outside cues. An example of this is advertising that promotes convenient but high-calorie options such as fast food, snacks or indulgent treats.

Having too much information can make these decisions even harder. Nutrition advice often assesses the value of foods by how much protein, fat, fibre or vitamins they contain. This way of thinking, sometimes called nutritionism, can make food choices more complex. Instead of choosing food as food, we try to calculate and juggle many numbers at once.

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Read more: Focusing on how and why you eat – not just what – may be the key to healthy eating

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Not the only factor

Several other factors may affect your food choices.

One is stress. One study from 2022 showed parents who experience high levels of both stress and decision fatigue found it more difficult to stick to positive food-related behaviours, such as making meals from scratch or eating together as a family.

Another is tiredness. One 2017 study showed time of day affected meal choices. It found between mealtimes, and especially in the afternoon, people were more likely to choose the simpler default food choice than one that required more consideration. This suggests having lower blood sugar and less mental energy meant people made less considered decisions.

How can I reduce my decision fatigue?

Here are four tips.

Have healthy foods on hand

When we’re low on mental or physical energy, we usually turn to what’s easy or familiar. That’s why it’s important to have healthy food options within reach. Thankfully, this doesn’t need to be complicated. It could look like pre-cutting fruit or having some healthy frozen meals in the freezer. And research suggests removing unhealthy foods – for example from the pantry or fridge – can be just as helpful when you’re trying to make healthier food choices.

Plan your meals

Planning meals could help too. This may involve setting some weekend time aside to decide what meals you’ll cook and eat. That’s instead of making last-minute decisions at the supermarket or on the drive home. Meal kits and batch cooking, which both reduce the number of food-related decisions you have to make, may also reduce decision fatigue.

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Read more: We know what to eat to stay healthy. So why is it so hard to make the right choices?

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Reframe your eating choices

How you frame choices may also improve your eating habits. For example, you may be more likely to “eat a colourful meal” rather than simply telling yourself to “eat more vegetables”.

Outsource some of the decision-making

If you’re looking for healthy, tasty recipes, you don’t need to re-invent the wheel. You can find a wealth of free ideas on the Eat for Health, Heart Foundation and National Nutrition Foundation websites. And if making food decisions feels overwhelming, Accredited Practicing Dietitians and Registered Nutritionists can help you turn complex nutrition advice into manageable steps.

The bottom line

We often think eating should be simple and intuitive, but blame ourselves when it doesn’t feel that way. However, the concept of decision fatigue shows healthy eating is not just about willpower. It’s also about noticing when you’re tired, stressed or time-poor, and taking practical steps to make healthy foods the easiest option.

Emma Beckett has previously received funding for research or payment for consulting from Mars Foods, Nutrition Research Australia, FOODiQ Global, the National Health and Medical Research Council, the Australian Research Council, the AMP Foundation, Kelloggs, Hort Innovation, and the a2 milk company. She is a member of the Australian Academy of Science National Committee for Nutrition, and the National Health and Medical Research Council Iodine Expert Working Group. She is a registered nutritionist and a member of the Nutrition Society of Australia, and the Australian Institute of Food Science and Technology. She is the author of 'You Are More Than What You Eat'.

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

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

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

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

Red or blue? It’s complicated

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why now?

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

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

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

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

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

Why here?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steven Conway does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Across Africa and beyond, education systems are shifting to curricula designed to build critical thinking and problem-solving skills.

Competency-based curricula put learners at the centre. They are meant to prepare students for a rapidly changing world, where success depends on the ability to adapt, think critically and solve complex problems.

Unlike traditional curricula, which often emphasise covering content and memorising facts, competency-based curricula focus on how students apply what they learn in real-world situations. For example, instead of simply recalling scientific definitions, students might be asked to use a concept to explain how diseases spread.

Much of the discussion around this shift in education has focused on familiar challenges, including teacher preparedness, availability of learning materials, and how faithfully the curriculum is implemented.

While these factors are important, they do not fully explain why reforms often fall short of their intended goals, particularly in improving how students learn and develop competencies.

In a recent study I co-authored, published in Discover Education, we reviewed evidence from different countries, including Ghana, Kenya and Vietnam, about what is undermining learner-centred education. We found that the main constraint to reforms in teaching is assessment systems. Teaching and testing systems are mismatched. While curricula promote skills like critical thinking and problem-solving, national exams want learners to memorise facts and follow routine procedures. So that’s what teachers concentrate on.

The misalignment is holding students back from success: being able to apply what they learn in real-world situations. This ability is essential for further education, employment and everyday decision-making.

Exams shape what counts

In our study, we set out to understand why learner-centred reforms, which are central to competency-based education, often fail to produce meaningful changes in classroom practice. We reviewed research and policy evidence from multiple countries across Africa, Asia and beyond, focusing on how national assessment systems interact with curriculum reforms.

We found a pattern: high-stakes exams do more than assess learning; they shape what teachers teach and what students focus on.

Our analysis shows that this creates a “double bind” for teachers. They are expected to promote critical thinking and problem-solving, while also preparing students for exams that reward recall and procedural accuracy. In practice, this often leads to surface-level reforms. New methods are introduced but teaching remains focused on memorisation.

In many African countries, examinations such as the West African Senior School Certificate Examination and Kenya’s National Secondary School Exams exert strong pressure on teachers.

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Read more: Ghana’s colonial past and assessment use means education prioritises passing exams over what students actually learn – this must change

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As a result, learning narrows to what can be tested. This limits the impact of reform.

In effect, exams become the real curriculum, regardless of what official documents say.

Rethinking what assessment does

The stakes are high.

If competency-based education is to succeed, assessment systems need to be rethought, not just adjusted at the margins.

This does not mean abandoning national exams. Rather, it means redefining what they are designed to measure.

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Read more: Should Kenya abolish all school exams? Expert sets out five reasons why they’re still useful

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Assessment should focus less on what students can recall and more on what they can do with what they know. This could include tasks that require analysis, problem-solving and application in real-world contexts.

It also means moving beyond a single high-stakes test. Combining national examinations with school-based assessments (such as projects or portfolios) can provide a more complete picture of learning.

The challenge is to do this in ways that remain fair, reliable and scalable across entire education systems.

A practical way forward

In our study, we propose a practical way to address this misalignment. We call it the LEARN model (Learner-centred assessment design; Evidence of competence; Adaptive to context; Reflective and feedback oriented; Nationally relevant and scalable). It offers a system-level framework for policymakers and education systems to redesign assessment so that it supports curriculum reforms.

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Read more: Ghana’s high school system sets many students up for failure: it needs a rethink

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The model is built around five ideas:

• designing assessments that reflect how students learn, using tasks that require applying knowledge rather than simple recall

• focusing on evidence of competence rather than recall, emphasising what students can do with what they know

• allowing flexibility to adapt to different classroom and national contexts

• integrating feedback into assessment so that it supports learning, instead of just measuring it

• ensuring that systems remain nationally relevant while still being practical to implement at scale.

The model shifts the focus from standardising test formats to aligning what is assessed with what matters.

Our model shows it is possible to balance two goals that are often seen as competing: maintaining national standards while supporting meaningful learning.

Frank Quansah 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.

Three people have died after a suspected outbreak of hantavirus on a cruise ship in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. At least one other passenger is in intensive care in South Africa.

The World Health Organization announced the deaths in a social media statement on Monday, along with one confirmed case of the rare disease. Authorities are investigating another five suspected cases among passengers travelling on the MV Hondius.

So, what is hantavirus? And why can it be so deadly?

As the investigation unfolds, here’s what we know.

What is hantavirus?

Hantavirus is a rare but severe respiratory illness that can cause severe bleeding, fever and even death.

The virus is spread by rodents, such as mice and rats, mainly through the urine and droppings of infected animals.

Hantavirus does not typically spread from person to person. However, in rare cases it may spread between people.

Globally, there are an estimated 150,000 to 200,000 cases of hantavirus each year.

It is less contagious than airborne viruses such as COVID and influenza, as it typically does not spread from person to person.

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Read more: What is a virus? How do they spread? How do they make us sick?

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What makes it so deadly?

There are two main types of hantavirus, each with different symptoms.

Hantavirus pulmonary syndrome, which affects the lungs, is mainly found in the United States. If a person becomes infected with this type of hantavirus, within days they will likely experience coughing and shortness of breath.

As the illness progresses, they can develop symptoms such as fatigue, fever and muscle aches. They may also get headaches, dizziness, nausea, vomiting and abdominal pain. This is the most deadly kind of hantavirus. Tragically, about 38% of people who develop these symptoms die from the disease.

Hemorrhagic fever with renal syndrome is mainly found in Europe and Asia, but the strain known as the Seoul virus has spread around the world. This form of hantavirus mainly affects the kidneys.

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Read more: 5 virus families that could cause the next pandemic, according to the experts

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People usually develop symptoms within two weeks of being exposed to this virus. Early symptoms include severe headaches, abdominal pain, nausea and blurred vision. More advanced symptoms include low blood pressure, internal bleeding and even acute kidney failure. This disease can be caused by different viruses and some are more deadly than others, meaning between 1% and 15% of cases can be fatal.

Unfortunately, there is no specific treatment or cure for either type of hantavirus. However, early medical treatment may increase a person’s chance of survival. This can include using respirators, oxygen therapy and dialysis.

Authorities are still investigating which type of hantavirus the passengers were exposed to.

How did it get on a cruise ship?

In a closed environment such as a cruise ship, there are two possible ways passengers could have contracted hantavirus.

One is being exposed to the virus while on a shore excursion.

The other possibility is that rodents may have entered the ship on cargo, and then spread the disease to passengers through their infected urine or droppings. Other factors such as hygiene standards and food storage practices may have caused the infection to spread more quickly.

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Read more: How do viruses mutate and jump species? And why are ‘spillovers’ becoming more common?

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To contain this suspected outbreak, authorities must first ensure any rodents are safely contained and removed from the ship. They should then monitor all passengers for hantavirus symptoms. The virus is diagnosed with a PCR test, similar to those used to diagnose viruses such as COVID.

Given there is no specific treatment for the disease, authorities must help any infected passengers manage their symptoms. This involves checking that they are breathing normally and their kidneys are functioning properly.

So, how worried should we be?

Although alarming, cases of hantavirus remain are extremely rare. But it can look similar to other respiratory illness, so you should always get symptoms checked. If you’ve been in regions where the virus is found and experience shortness of breath, fever or any other flu-like symptoms, see your GP.

Thomas Jeffries 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.

Depending on which side of the argument you listen to, the recently signed New Zealand-India free trade agreement represents either a huge economic opportunity for New Zealand or a risk to its economic sovereignty.

In an election year, we can expect political positioning over something as significant as this deal, given the broader context. India is a huge market of 1.4 billion people, migration is a burning issue globally and economic growth has been elusive during a period of inflation, war and fuel price hikes.

Broadly, the agreement reduces barriers to trade in goods, services, capital and skilled labour. It’s not surprising exporters are excited about the opportunities. India is projected to grow at 6.5% this year and the next – faster than New Zealand’s other existing trade partners.

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade’s national interest analysis estimates trade, output and real wages will increase due to the market access for New Zealand goods in the deal.

The economic benefits projected by 2050 may even be conservative estimates, given higher-than-modelled gains were seen once the New Zealand-China free trade agreement was in place.

But the India deal goes beyond trade in goods and encompasses services and investment liberalisation, which was where the most political opposition was faced.

First, it was feared New Zealand could be penalised for not investing enough in India. Second, according to NZ First’s Shane Jones, the agreement opens a door to “unfettered immigration”, displacing local jobs.

The hyperbole notwithstanding, then, what does the text of the agreement tell us about the likely economic impact of the deal on New Zealand?

Can NZ be penalised for not investing enough?

The major sticking point for the Labour Party – whose support for the deal was needed because government coalition partner NZ First opposed it – was concern that New Zealand businesses would be legally obligated to invest NZ$33 billion dollars in India over 15 years.

A close reading of the chapter on investment promotion and cooperation, however, reveals the figure is not legally binding or subject to formal dispute settlement. It is to be mutually achieved through a “review, reporting and three-tier government-to-government” consultative process every five years.

As Trade Minister Todd McClay put it, the $33 billion figure is “aspirational”. It is based on a longer-term projection of India’s economic growth over the next 15 years.

Investment will be facilitated by a dedicated desk within India’s Invest India agency. For example, it will include investment partnerships such as the Bioeconomy Science Institute Maiangi Taiao’s initiative to give expert support to India’s developing kiwifruit industry.

If New Zealand businesses don’t achieve their investment targets after 15 years, there will still be a three year grace period, with avenues for discussion and consultation.

Failing that, India has reserved the right to impose proportionate remedial measures by rebalancing tariff concessions. No specific details are mentioned, but they are intended to be temporary and will end once the investment objective is achieved.

These measures reflect the fact that India has given greater tariff concessions to New Zealand exporters than vice versa.

Focus on temporary labour mobility, not immigration

If anything, the bigger concern has been that the free trade agreement will establish an “open border” for Indian migrants into New Zealand, potentially undercutting local wages and putting even more pressure on an already strained housing market.

In reality, the agreement negotiates temporary cross-border movement for contractual service suppliers in both directions between New Zealand and India. It also allows for working holiday visas (with clear time limits) aimed solely at alleviating short-term skill shortages.

The agreement also allows temporary employment entry for some specific professions on New Zealand’s skill shortage list, all restricted to a non-renewable visa for three years.

Annexes to the agreement explicitly state:

This applies to a natural person of India, including a skilled worker, into the territory of New Zealand, in order to work under a fixed term employment contract concluded pursuant to the law of New Zealand, without the intent to establish permanent residence.

Furthermore, the agreement makes it clear these visas can only be granted for temporary travel for that specific employment purpose:

For greater certainty, these qualifications must be recognised by the appropriate New Zealand authority where under New Zealand law such recognition is a condition of the provision of that service in New Zealand.

This would mean qualified doctors, for example, can come to work in New Zealand for three years under temporary employment visas. But they will still be required to comply with local qualification and training requirements.

The intention is clear: such labour mobility provisions will only allow skilled professionals from India to provide specific services for a finite time, complementing local jobs, not displacing them.

The proof, of course, will be in the implementation of the agreement and its overall impact on trade, investment and economic growth. For now, perhaps, it is time to move beyond politics and give New Zealand businesses a chance to tap the long-term opportunities offered by this deal.

Rahul Sen 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.