Oz Crying

There’s something strange about growing up in earlier generations. We were disciplined — sometimes with a smack, sometimes with a raised voice, sometimes with consequences that actually meant something. And somehow, we didn’t grow up broken. We didn’t grow up traumatised. We didn’t grow up thinking the world revolved around us. Then one day, a single expert, committee, or “concerned voice” decided corporal punishment was unacceptable. Overnight, it was banned. No transition, no alternatives, no plan for what would replace it. Just a rule. Another rule. Another intervention. And now we’re living with the results. I’ve seen teenagers on trains spitting at commuters, kicking seats, trying to break things simply because they know nobody can do anything. Not the passengers. Not the teachers. Not even the police half the time. They know the system protects them from consequences more than it protects anyone else from their behaviour. We removed discipline without replacing it with anything t...

Every now and then, the world serves up a story so strange you can’t help but tilt your head and wonder if someone is having a laugh. Take the ozone layer, for example. Years ago, scientists discovered holes in it — a pretty big problem considering it’s the thing stopping us from being microwaved by the sun. Early reports pointed to methane from cows as one of the contributors. Cow patties. The humble bovine fart. Apparently one of nature’s most peaceful animals was secretly waging war on the atmosphere. It always sounded like a lot of “bull” to me. But here’s the real kicker: you can’t tax cows. So instead, governments went after manufacturing, fuel, aerosols — anything with a barcode. Suddenly the solution to atmospheric chemistry involved… revenue. Convenient. Fast‑forward to today. America launches another rocket into space. Maybe it’s scientific research. Maybe it’s exploration. Maybe it’s just tradition at this point — like taking the bins out, but louder. But part of me can’t he...

 We live in a world full of contradictions, and the more you look at them, the harder they are to ignore. Some countries act as the world’s police, deciding who is responsible enough to have certain weapons, who is dangerous, who needs to be sanctioned, and who needs to be “kept in line.” Yet history shows that the only nation to ever use atomic weapons on a civilian population is the same one determining who else is allowed to have them. That’s not an opinion — that’s just a fact that sits awkwardly in the background of every global debate. It’s the same pattern when it comes to terrorism. We’re told certain groups are too hateful, too extreme, too dangerous to exist anywhere in the world. Yet within America’s own borders, organisations like the Ku Klux Klan have been allowed to operate for generations. They’re widely condemned, but they’re also legally permitted to march, organise, and exist. So how do we decide which forms of extremism are unacceptable and which ones are simply ...

 There’s a lot of noise right now about dirt bikes and e‑bikes weaving through traffic, doing wheelies, and generally causing chaos on the roads. People are angry, the media is loud, and everyone seems to have an opinion. But before we all point fingers, I can’t help noticing something strange: the same government that didn’t want these riders on social media now complains that they’re not behaving the way we want them to. I haven’t seen any of them scrolling Instagram while doing a wheelie — so technically, that part’s a win. What really gets me is the comparison between what these riders are doing and what the rest of us put up with every day. Yes, they cut through traffic. Yes, they ignore the rules. But are they the only ones acting irrationally, or are they just reacting to a system that barely works? I’ve sat at red lights for minutes at a time, watching the world stand still. I’ve been stuck in peak‑hour traffic where a single set of lights lets one or two cars through per c...

  ANZAC Day marks the service and sacrifice of Australians who fought in the First World War and in every conflict since. When the war began in 1914, Australia committed troops to support Britain and its allies. Many volunteered believing they were defending shared values, protecting their way of life, and standing with partners in a global conflict. First Nations soldiers also served, despite facing discrimination at home, and their contribution is now increasingly recognised. The ANZACs fought under the Australian flag, and for many people that symbol represents unity, identity, and the sacrifices made by those who served. Today, Australia displays multiple flags to acknowledge different parts of our national story, including the Aboriginal flag. While many people respect the importance of recognising First Nations identity, others feel that the absence of the Australian flag in some government spaces overlooks the symbol under which past generations served and died. It’s a tensi...