Yet there has been remarkably little discussion about what it is actually costing taxpayers today.
To help put those costs into perspective I have created the Net Zero Cost Clock, a live counter that continuously estimates the taxpayer-funded subsidies being paid under Australia's Large-scale Renewable Energy Target (LRET).
Unlike government reports released months or years after the money has been spent, the clock keeps running every second of every day.
You can view it here:
https://www.grappyssoapbox.com/p/cost-of-net-zero.html
The clock measures the estimated value of the Large-scale Generation Certificates (LGCs) created under Australia's Renewable Energy Target.
Every megawatt-hour of eligible renewable electricity generates one certificate.
Electricity retailers are required by law to purchase these certificates to meet the Renewable Energy Target. The cost is ultimately passed on to electricity consumers through their power bills.
The calculation is deliberately simple and transparent.
It uses:
the legislated Renewable Energy Target of approximately 33 million MWh per year
the current market price of Large-scale Generation Certificates
a continuously updating calculation that converts the annual subsidy into a live running total.
Every assumption is shown on the page, together with links to the official data sources, allowing readers to verify the calculation themselves.
The important point is this:
The clock does not measure the total cost of Net Zero.
It measures just one component of the total cost.
Many of the largest expenses are completely excluded.
These include:
construction of thousands of kilometres of new high-voltage transmission lines
major upgrades to local distribution networks
Renewable Energy Zones
large-scale battery storage
Snowy 2.0 and other system support projects
government grants, concessional loans and underwriting schemes
curtailed renewable generation
backup generation required during periods of low wind and solar output
higher system operating costs required to maintain grid stability.
Perhaps the largest omission is the enormous investment needed simply to connect renewable generation to the electricity grid.
Unlike coal-fired power stations, which are generally located close to existing transmission infrastructure, wind and solar farms are often built hundreds of kilometres from where electricity is actually consumed.
That means Australia must build thousands of kilometres of new transmission lines.
Infrastructure Australia notes that the National Electricity Market will require around 6,000 km of new transmission lines by 2050, while Western Australia will require thousands more.
Industry estimates associated with AEMO's Integrated System Plan suggest around $122 billion of investment in generation, storage and transmission, including approximately $16 billion for major transmission projects alone.
Even these figures are moving targets.
Several major transmission projects have experienced substantial cost increases, with some estimates rising by more than 50 per cent in a single year and individual projects now costing several billions of dollars each.
Whether these investments ultimately prove worthwhile is a matter for public debate.
What is beyond dispute is that they represent costs that are not included in the Net Zero Cost Clock.
Australians deserve to know not only the environmental objectives of public policy, but also its financial cost.
If governments believe Net Zero represents value for money, then they should have no objection to those costs being measured openly and honestly.
The Net Zero Cost Clock is not intended to settle the policy debate.
It simply makes one part of that debate visible.
In reality, it is best viewed as the minimum entry price of Australia's Net Zero transition.
The real bill is certainly much larger.
Bookmark the Net Zero Cost Clock and check back from time to time. The number only moves in one direction.
For years we have been told that electric vehicles (EVs) are the future. Buy one and you'll be helping to save the planet. Governments subsidise them, manufacturers market them as "zero emissions", and many buyers proudly believe they are making an environmentally responsible choice.
But what if that isn't the whole story?
A thought-provoking article by Adam Creighton in The Australian, titled "EVs might feel right for the wealthy, but they will destroy our planet", challenges much of the conventional wisdom surrounding electric vehicles. It is well worth reading in full if you have access to The Australian, because it raises questions that rarely receive much attention in the mainstream discussion.
Perhaps the biggest misconception is the phrase "zero emissions."
An EV produces no exhaust emissions while driving. That much is true.
However, manufacturing the vehicle—particularly its battery—requires enormous quantities of energy and raw materials. The plastics, synthetic fabrics and many other components are still derived from petroleum products. An EV does not magically escape dependence on fossil fuels simply because it lacks an exhaust pipe.
Figures from the International Energy Agency show that an electric vehicle requires roughly six times more mineral content than a conventional petrol vehicle. These include lithium, nickel, cobalt and graphite, all of which must be mined somewhere.
That mining comes with real environmental consequences:
destruction of forests
removal of huge quantities of earth
pollution of waterways
habitat loss
enormous energy consumption
Unlike carbon dioxide projections decades into the future, these environmental impacts are immediate and visible.
The irony, is that many environmentally conscious consumers may unknowingly be contributing to significant ecological damage occurring thousands of kilometres away.
Replacing the world's billions of conventional vehicles with battery-powered equivalents would require an extraordinary expansion of mining.
Research by Frontier Economics suggesting that the transition to EVs would dramatically increase demand for critical minerals, with major environmental consequences in countries such as Indonesia, Chile, Africa and Papua New Guinea.
One example is nickel production in Indonesia, where large areas of rainforest are reportedly being cleared while much of the refining process itself is powered by coal-fired electricity.
This raises an uncomfortable question.
Are we simply exporting environmental damage from wealthy countries to poorer nations?
Modern environmental campaigns often focus almost exclusively on carbon emissions.
Yet environmental protection used to include:
preserving forests
protecting rivers
conserving wildlife
reducing mining scars
maintaining biodiversity
These concerns have not disappeared simply because climate change has become the dominant political issue.
Creighton argues that carbon dioxide has become the only environmental metric that governments seem willing to measure.
The article also questions why taxpayers should subsidise one technology over another.
EV buyers currently benefit from various incentives, exemptions and subsidies while contributing little or nothing to fuel excise—the tax traditionally used to help fund Australia's roads. If EVs are genuinely the superior technology, they should succeed without heavy government assistance.
None of this proves that conventional petrol vehicles are environmentally perfect.
Nor does it prove that EVs always have a higher total environmental footprint over their entire lifetime. Researchers continue to debate whole-of-life emissions, and the answer depends on factors such as electricity generation, battery lifespan and recycling technology.
What the article does highlight is that the environmental conversation has become far too one-dimensional.
If the only thing we measure is carbon dioxide, we risk ignoring:
landscape destruction
toxic mining waste
deforestation
geopolitical dependence on critical minerals
human and environmental costs borne by developing nations
These are genuine environmental issues too.
Electric vehicles are not the simple, clean, guilt-free solution many politicians would have us believe.
Every technology involves trade-offs.
Rather than pretending EVs are environmentally "free", governments should encourage an honest debate about their full environmental impact—from the mine to the factory to the showroom.
If we're serious about protecting the planet, we need to look beyond what comes out of a car's tailpipe and consider the damage that may already have been done long before the vehicle ever reaches the road.
If you can access it, I recommend reading Adam Creighton's full article in The Australian. Whether you ultimately agree with his conclusions or not, it presents arguments that deserve to be part of the broader discussion rather than dismissed because they challenge the prevailing narrative.
For nearly three decades, Pauline Hanson and One Nation occupied a small but persistent corner of Australian politics, typically polling around 5–6%. They were dismissed as a protest party with a loyal but limited following.
Not anymore.
Over the past six to nine months, One Nation's support has surged. Polls now place the party at around 30%, ahead of Labor and well ahead of the Coalition. Whether those numbers hold until the next election is another matter, but the political message is unmistakable: a growing number of Australians are looking elsewhere.
Why?
Because many Australians believe the country is moving in the wrong direction.
Energy bills continue to climb as governments pursue expensive climate policies. Government spending has fuelled inflation. Immigration has reached record levels while housing and infrastructure struggle to cope. Household incomes have gone backwards. Communities have watched years of antisemitic demonstrations following the October 7 atrocities with what many see as an inadequate government response. The return of ISIS brides, growing social division and concerns about Australia's cultural identity have added to a sense that the government is failing on too many fronts.
Against that backdrop, One Nation's message is remarkably simple.
Reduce government spending. Pursue the lowest-cost energy. Restart resource exploration. Cut immigration to sustainable levels. Be far more selective about where migrants come from. Stop dividing Australians by race or religion and apply the same rules to everyone.
Whether you agree with those policies or not, they are clear, consistent and easy to understand.
But the real political earthquake came with Labor's latest Budget.
After repeatedly ruling out changes to capital gains tax and negative gearing before the election, the government reversed course. It was not merely another policy shift—it was seen by many voters as a broken promise.
That perception has proven far more damaging than the policies themselves.
One Nation seized the moment with a brilliantly simple fundraising campaign: "Fire the Liar."
Within just two weeks, the campaign reportedly attracted more than 50,000 donors and raised almost $5 million. It even spawned a song.
That is more than a fundraising success. It is a measure of public anger.
This was not the government's first change of position, but it appears to have been the one that finally exhausted the electorate's patience. The budget became the straw that broke the camel's back.
Of course, there are still two years before Australians vote. Polls can change dramatically. One Nation will need candidates, volunteers and a much larger campaign organisation if it hopes to convert polling support into parliamentary seats.
Today's surge could fade as quickly as it arrived.
Or it could mark the beginning of a profound realignment in Australian politics.
Either way, one lesson should already be clear.
Voters will forgive mistakes.
They are far less willing to forgive broken promises.
And perhaps that is the healthiest development of all.
In a democracy, governments should never forget that elections are won on trust—and lost when that trust is broken.
One of the most thought-provoking articles I have read recently comes from the Gatestone Institute's "Is Saving Europe Still Possible?" by Guy Millière. Whether you agree with every conclusion or not, it raises a question that European leaders seem increasingly reluctant to confront.
The article focuses heavily on the dramatic rise in antisemitic attacks across Europe, particularly in Britain, where Jewish communities increasingly report feeling unsafe. It details attacks on synagogues, Jewish schools, businesses and individuals, arguing that these incidents are no longer isolated events but part of a broader social transformation. (Gatestone Institute)
Many commentators treat this explosion of antisemitism as the problem itself.
I think it is better understood as a symptom.
The deeper issue is that Europe has experienced decades of large-scale migration from parts of Africa, the Middle East and Asia without requiring successful cultural integration into the values that made Western civilisation successful in the first place.
Western civilisation did not emerge by accident.
It was built over centuries upon Judeo-Christian ethics, the rule of law, equality before the law, freedom of conscience, individual liberty, private property, democratic government, respect for women, and the belief that rights belong to individuals rather than tribes or religious groups.
Those values created the freest, most prosperous and most tolerant societies in human history.
The concern raised by the Gatestone article is that Europe is steadily importing populations whose cultural traditions, in some cases, have developed very different views about religion, political authority, women's rights, free speech and the relationship between faith and the state. The author argues that political leaders have often been unwilling to acknowledge these differences openly or discuss the consequences of rapid demographic change. (Gatestone Institute)
The result, critics argue, has been rising social tension, growing pressure on public services, higher crime in some communities, increasing political polarisation and, most visibly since October 2023, an explosion of antisemitic demonstrations and violence. While the causes of crime and social unrest are complex and vary across countries, concerns about integration have become increasingly prominent in political debate across Europe. (Gatestone Institute)
The tragedy is that antisemitism is only the visible warning light on the dashboard.
If Europe loses confidence in the very principles that created modern liberal democracy, then everyone eventually loses—not only Jews, but women, religious minorities, political dissidents and ordinary citizens who expect equal treatment under the law.
A civilisation survives only while enough people believe it is worth preserving.
That does not mean rejecting immigration.
Europe has benefited enormously from migrants who embrace its laws, freedoms and institutions and who wish to become part of their adopted countries.
But immigration policy cannot simply be measured by the number of arrivals. It must also ask whether newcomers are integrating into the host society or whether the host society is gradually being transformed into something fundamentally different.
Every nation has not only the right but the responsibility to protect the institutions, culture and values that allowed it to flourish.
The real question facing Europe therefore is not whether it can tolerate diversity.
It always has.
The question is whether it still possesses enough confidence to defend the civilisation that made that diversity possible in the first place.
Whether one agrees entirely with Guy Millière's conclusions or not, his article deserves to be read because it asks a question that Europe can no longer afford to avoid.
Read the original article here:
The numbers do matter, but there is a more important question.
That question is what happens after they arrive.
If immigration leaves a country safer, more prosperous and more cohesive, then it has been a success.
If it leaves a country more divided, less safe and politically unstable, then it has been a failure.
It really is that simple.
Every government has one fundamental responsibility. To protect the safety, freedom and well-being of its own citizens. Everything else comes second.
Immigration is therefore not a humanitarian exercise. It is a public policy. Like every public policy it should be judged by its results.
Has crime increased? Has terrorism increased? Has social cohesion improved or deteriorated? Do citizens feel safer or less safe?
These are measurable outcomes. They matter far more than the number of visas issued.
For years many European governments insisted that questioning migration policy was driven by prejudice.
Now reality has caught up.
Across Europe, anti-immigration parties are growing because millions of ordinary voters have concluded that their governments ignored obvious warning signs.
The recent unrest in Belfast is another example. Following the alleged stabbing of a local man by a Sudanese asylum seeker, widespread disorder erupted across parts of the city. The riots themselves were criminal and deserved condemnation, but they were also evidence of something deeper—a public that has lost confidence in its government's ability to manage immigration.
The same pattern can be seen elsewhere.
Violent crime involving some recent migrant communities. Terrorist attacks. Growing pressure on police. Parallel societies.
Then comes the inevitable reaction from a minority of the existing population—protests, riots, and sometimes retaliatory violence.
Governments end up importing two problems instead of one.
First, they import people who, in some cases, contribute disproportionately to crime, extremism or social conflict.
Second, they create the conditions in which a small but dangerous minority of their own citizens becomes radicalised in response.
Neither outcome benefits the peaceful majority on either side.
One country looked at these outcomes and changed course.
The above graph shows the crime rate in Denmark by Nation of Origin for the period 2010-2021. The crime rate is significantly higher for migrants from Middle East and North Africa.
It is a clear warning. Not all migrants carry the same risk.
If a government's objective is to preserve a safe, stable and cohesive society, they must impose much tighter control over migration and much stronger expectations of integration.
That is exactly what governments are elected to do.
Australia is fortunate.
We still have the opportunity to learn from the experience of others before our problems become as entrenched.
The Bondi terrorist attack was a reminder that Australia is not somehow immune from the ideological and cultural conflicts affecting other Western nations.
Ignoring overseas evidence because it is politically uncomfortable is not compassion.
It is negligence.
None of this means every migrant is a criminal. That would be absurd.
However policy is never made for individuals. It is made for populations and probabilities. Insurance companies understand this. Public health authorities understand this. Governments should understand it too.
If repeated experience shows that migration from particular regions is consistently associated with higher risks of crime, terrorism or social conflict, responsible governments should take that evidence seriously when deciding future immigration policy.
Their first duty is not to maximise immigration. It is not to satisfy international opinion. It is not to avoid difficult conversations.
Their first duty is to protect the people who already live within their borders.
Migration should never be judged by good intentions.
It should always be judged by outcomes.
And when the outcomes are poor, good governments change the policy.
The public has been assured that climate models have spoken, the future is known, and all that remains is deciding how much economic pain we are willing to endure to prevent catastrophe.
There has always been one awkward problem with that narrative.
The models have not performed particularly well.
Many of the complex climate models used by the IPCC have consistently projected more warming than has actually occurred. Their forecasts are so diverse that some predict modest warming while others forecast climate disaster. If the science were truly settled, why do the models disagree so dramatically?
That is why a recent article titled "The Model That Works" on Watts Up With That caught my attention. It describes a climate model that takes a radically different approach. Instead of attempting to simulate every cloud, ocean current, weather pattern and atmospheric process on Earth, it focuses on a few key physical relationships that can actually be measured.
The model begins with a straightforward idea.
Earth's temperature is determined by the balance between energy entering the system from the Sun and energy leaving the system back into space.
Two observable factors largely control this balance:
Albedo – how much incoming sunlight is reflected back into space.
Greenhouse factor – how much outgoing infrared radiation is trapped by the atmosphere.
More energy coming in than going out means warming.
More energy leaving than entering means cooling.
So far, this sounds like Climate Science 101.
The interesting part is that the model does not assume the climate system is static. Instead, it treats the atmosphere and oceans as an evolving system that continuously reorganises itself to move energy as efficiently as possible. The result is a dynamic model that appears to mirror how the real Earth behaves.
The author compared the model's output with actual observations of Earth's climate.
Instead of producing wildly divergent futures like many IPCC models, this simpler model closely tracks observed temperatures and climate patterns.
No model is perfect.
The author himself acknowledges that this is not a complete description of Earth's climate.
But it passes an important test.
It correlates with reality.
That alone makes it worthy of attention.
This is where the story becomes particularly interesting.
The model suggests that the warming effect of increasing atmospheric CO₂ is likely toward the lower end of previous estimates. In climate jargon, it implies a lower "climate sensitivity" than many of the more alarming projections assume.
In plain English:
The amount CO₂ contributes to warming may be substantially less than the worst-case scenarios that dominate headlines.
That does not mean climate change is imaginary, but the climate catastrophe narrative is wrong.
If this model is even approximately correct, the future looks very different from the one often presented by activists and politicians.
Instead of:
Runaway warming
Climate apocalypse
Economic collapse
Emergency measures to eliminate fossil fuels
We are looking at:
Gradual warming
Manageable adaptation
Continued technological progress
More time to develop practical energy solutions
It is a reason for rationality, and human beings are remarkably good at adapting to changing conditions. We always have been.
Perhaps the most important lesson from this model is not the exact temperature forecast.
It is the reminder that science is never settled. Science advances by testing ideas against reality. When a model agrees with observations, scientists pay attention.
The model described by Watts Up With That may not be the final answer. Further testing and validation will be needed.
But it offers something increasingly rare in climate discussions: a reason for optimism.
If the model proves broadly correct, then the future is not one of climate apocalypse.
It is one of manageable change.
And perhaps that is the most important message of all.
The evidence increasingly suggests that humanity's future challenge may be adaptation, not survival.
That is a very different conversation from the one we have been hearing for the last twenty years.
Donald Trump today announced with considerable fanfare what has been described as a peace deal between the United States, Israel, and Iran. After months of on-again, off-again negotiations, threats, missile strikes, counter-strikes, and endless speculation, many observers had become skeptical that any agreement would ever emerge.
Yet here we are.
According to the announcement, a Memorandum of Understanding is expected to be signed next week, with representatives from all sides reportedly indicating that they will proceed.
The obvious question is: what exactly are they signing?
The answer, at this stage, appears to be surprisingly little.
Despite headlines proclaiming the "end of the war," very few substantive details have been released.
What we have been told is that:
The shooting stops.
Hezbollah ceases attacks on Israel.
Israel and the United States halt military operations against Iran.
Restrictions affecting shipping through the Strait of Hormuz are lifted.
Oil and commercial traffic resume normal operations.
Everything else—the difficult part—is left for future negotiation.
The core issues that triggered the conflict remain unresolved.
The United States and Israel continue to demand access to, and ultimately destruction of, Iran's stockpiles of enriched uranium.
Iran continues to demand the lifting of sanctions and the release of frozen assets held around the world.
Those matters are apparently to be negotiated over the next sixty days.
That is not a peace deal.
It is an agreement to keep talking.
The most immediate and concrete outcome appears to be the reopening of the Strait of Hormuz.
That is significant.
The disruption of shipping through the Strait had created pressure throughout global energy markets. It affected not only Western economies but also America's Gulf allies whose oil exports depend on secure access to world markets.
Trump can now claim success in restoring stability to international shipping lanes and reducing pressure on oil supplies.
From Washington's perspective, that is a tangible achievement.
But it comes at a price.
The leverage that the United States held over the Iranian regime was not simply military.
It was economic.
Iran's dictatorship has been under immense pressure from sanctions, financial isolation, declining export revenues, and growing domestic dissatisfaction. Every week that passed increased the strain on the regime.
By reopening the Strait and allowing Iranian exports to flow more freely, a significant portion of that pressure is relieved.
That represents a major concession.
The regime gains access to revenue streams that were increasingly constrained.
The government in Tehran receives breathing room.
And breathing room is exactly what authoritarian regimes seek when they are under pressure.
For Iran's rulers, this may prove to be the most valuable outcome of the agreement.
Throughout the conflict many ordinary Iranians heard a message coming from Washington.
The regime was weak.
The regime was isolated.
The regime was vulnerable.
Some interpreted Trump's rhetoric as an indication that meaningful change might finally be possible.
Many Iranian citizens who oppose the dictatorship believed international pressure was steadily increasing.
Now they may feel abandoned.
The economic pressure that was squeezing the regime has been partially released before any meaningful concessions have been secured.
For those who hoped the dictatorship was entering its final chapter, today's announcement will feel less like liberation and more like a reprieve for their oppressors.
Supporters of the agreement will argue that stopping the shooting is always preferable to continuing a war.
That is true.
No reasonable person wants missiles flying when diplomacy can achieve the same objectives.
The problem is that diplomacy has not yet achieved those objectives.
The fundamental question remains exactly where it was yesterday:
Will Iran surrender its enriched uranium and abandon its pathway to nuclear weapons capability?
Nobody knows.
The regime's history offers little reason for confidence.
Iran has spent decades mastering the art of prolonged negotiations, partial compliance, strategic ambiguity, and buying time.
Critics of previous negotiations warned repeatedly that Tehran views talks as another battlefield.
If that assessment is correct, the next sixty days may simply become another chapter in a very familiar story.
The celebrations today may be premature.
If the Memorandum of Understanding is signed next week, it will certainly be an important development.
Missiles will stop flying.
Oil will start flowing.
Markets will breathe easier.
But none of that resolves the central dispute.
A genuine peace deal settles the underlying conflict.
This agreement appears to postpone it.
Perhaps the negotiators will surprise us.
Perhaps Iran will genuinely cooperate.
Perhaps the uranium will be surrendered, sanctions will be lifted in stages, and a lasting settlement will emerge.
But until those things actually happen, today's announcement should be viewed for what it is:
Not the end of the war.
Merely an extension of the ceasefire.
Not anymore.
Over the last few months I've noticed an explosion of AI-generated videos on YouTube. You have probably seen them too. A polished presenter appears on screen, looking directly into the camera, speaking confidently and fluently about finance, health, politics, self-improvement, technology or almost any other topic you can imagine.
At first glance they appear completely real.
The face moves naturally. The voice sounds human. The production quality is often better than many genuine content creators can achieve.
Yet after watching for a minute or two something feels off.
There are no pauses. No hesitation. No searching for the right word. No natural interruptions. No little imperfections that make human conversation human. The speech flows relentlessly, sentence after sentence, like a machine gun firing polished paragraphs.
That's because, increasingly, it is.
The technology has advanced so quickly that almost anyone can now generate a convincing presenter in minutes. A script written by AI can be fed into an avatar generator, combined with an AI voice, and uploaded to YouTube almost instantly.
The economics are obvious.
Create hundreds of videos. Cover every trending topic. Collect views. Collect advertising revenue. Repeat.
In one sense this is simply the next stage of automation. We have accepted automated factories, automated customer service systems and automated news aggregation. Why not automated video presenters?
Personally, I don't object to AI-generated content in principle. Some of it is informative. Some is entertaining. Some creators are completely open about the fact that they are using AI tools.
The problem begins when transparency disappears.
A growing number of videos are now crossing a line. Instead of using an obviously artificial presenter, they impersonate real people.
This is where things become much more troubling.
A person's reputation is one of the most valuable assets they possess. It may take decades to build. It is earned through experience, expertise, integrity and consistent performance.
When an AI-generated video pretends to be that person, it is effectively stealing that reputation.
The creator of the fake video gains instant credibility that they have done nothing to earn.
The audience assumes the information is trustworthy because it appears to come from someone they recognize.
Meanwhile the real person loses control of their own identity and receives none of the benefit from the reputation they spent years creating.
This is not merely imitation. It is a form of intellectual and reputational theft.
Even worse, the information being presented may be completely wrong.
Imagine a fake financial expert offering investment advice.
Imagine a fake doctor discussing medical treatments.
Imagine a fake political commentator presenting fabricated statements.
Many viewers will not realise they are watching an AI-generated impersonation. They will naturally assume the information comes from the person whose face and voice they appear to be seeing.
The potential for misinformation is enormous.
What brought this issue into focus for me was a recent YouTube video that I came across, which I have linked below. The video covers the emergence of a large number of Richard Feynman videos that feature the famous physicists voice and imply his expertise despite the fact that he had nothing to do with them, given that he died in 1988.
We are entering a world where seeing is no longer believing.
For centuries photographs were treated as evidence. Then photo editing made us more cautious.
Video became the new gold standard. If you saw someone saying something on camera, surely it must be true.
Now that assumption is disappearing as well.
The challenge for platforms such as YouTube is that they were built on a foundation of trust. Viewers assume that what they are watching broadly corresponds to reality.
AI-generated impersonations threaten that trust.
There is a simple solution, at least in principle.
AI-generated presenters should be clearly labelled.
AI-generated impersonations of real people should require explicit consent.
And where consent is absent, platforms should remove the content.
Technology itself is not the enemy. AI is an extraordinary tool and will undoubtedly create enormous benefits.
But a society that cannot distinguish between genuine expertise and manufactured credibility is heading into dangerous territory.
The next time you watch a perfectly polished expert delivering an uninterrupted stream of wisdom, pay attention to that small voice in the back of your mind.
If it feels just a little too perfect, there may be a reason.
Perhaps the person speaking doesn't exist at all.
Video reference:
We are watching a very public dance of threats, retaliation, diplomatic hints, leaked optimism and supposed deals that are always just a few days away. President Trump insists Iran wants a deal. He says negotiations are progressing. He urges restraint. Yet Iran’s behaviour looks rather less like a party seeking peace and more like a regime testing how much violence it can get away with while still enjoying the language of diplomacy.
Despite the ceasefire, there has been plenty of fire. Iran has attacked Gulf neighbours, threatened shipping through the Strait of Hormuz, disrupted tankers, and most recently fired ballistic missiles towards Israel. This is not peace. It is war conducted under the cover of ceasefire language.
The most troubling element is Trump’s public pressure on Israel not to respond. That is an extraordinary demand. Israel’s doctrine of immediate and punitive response is not a luxury. It is the foundation of deterrence in a region where weakness is read as invitation. Israel has spent decades fighting Iran’s proxies — Hezbollah, Hamas, the Houthis and others — precisely because Tehran prefers to kill through intermediaries. If Iran now attacks Israel directly, why would anyone expect Israel not to respond directly?
By publicly urging Israel to hold back, Trump handed Iran a diplomatic win. Tehran’s strategy has always been to create distance between Israel and its allies. A wedge between Washington and Jerusalem is not a minor achievement for the regime; it is a strategic prize.
So is this blatant stupidity? Perhaps. But perhaps not.
There is another possibility, although it requires a longer bow. Iran has used proxies for decades. It has fought through others while pretending to remain one step removed. Could the United States now be allowing Israel to play a similar role in reverse? Israel hits back. Iran pays a price. Meanwhile Washington continues to pose as the honest broker, maintaining pressure while pretending diplomacy still has room to work.
That may be too clever by half. It may simply be political theatre. It may be Trump trying to manage domestic pressure, oil markets, nervous Gulf states and an American public weary of war. But it is hard to believe he is about to abandon the US relationship with Israel, whatever the noise of the moment.
The danger is that Iran may believe it is winning the ceasefire. By firing, threatening, escalating and then watching Washington restrain Israel, Tehran may think it has found the formula: provoke, absorb limited retaliation, then demand diplomacy. If that is the game, it must be broken.
We should also remember that we are in the middle of the match, not at the final whistle. In war, there is always ebb and flow. Tactical confusion does not necessarily mean strategic defeat. A day’s headlines do not tell us the end of the story. The final play has not yet been made.
My own view remains unchanged. The objective should be regime change. Not another agreement. Not another temporary pause. Not another piece of paper Tehran can reinterpret, evade, or tear up when convenient.
The sanctions must remain. The blockade must remain. The pressure must increase, not soften. Negotiation has become theatre, and Tehran has used that theatre to buy time for decades.
Let Iran come back when it has no better options.
And if the regime escalates — as it has done by attacking neighbours, shipping and Israel — then the response should be simple and incremental: destroy more of the infrastructure that keeps the regime alive. Bit by bit. Strike the military assets. Strike the command systems. Strike the economic arteries.
A few serious hits on Kharg Island would do more than a thousand diplomatic statements. If Iran’s oil export capacity is crippled, the blockade almost becomes self-enforcing. No exports. No cash. No strategic patience. No ability to fund proxies while pretending to negotiate peace.
The West keeps pretending that Iran can be talked into moderation. But the Islamic Republic has shown us what it is. It survives through repression at home, terror abroad, deception in negotiation and escalation whenever it senses hesitation.
The ceasefire is not peace. It is a battlefield with better public relations.
The question now is whether Trump’s restraint of Israel is a mistake, a tactic, or part of a larger game. We cannot know yet. But we can know this: Iran must not be allowed to turn ceasefire violations into leverage, or diplomacy into a shield behind which it continues the war.
The regime should not be rewarded for escalation.
It should be made to regret it.
But what happens when the fight against racism loses sight of the principle that all people should be treated equally under the law?
That is the uncomfortable question raised by commentator Konstantin Kisin in his powerful recent video, Henry Nowak: How Anti-Racism Gave You Racism.
The video centres on the tragic death of 18-year-old British student Henry Nowak. After being stabbed multiple times in Southampton, Nowak reportedly told police officers that he had been attacked. Yet according to bodycam footage subsequently released, officers initially accepted the attacker's claim that he had been the victim of a racist assault and handcuffed the badly wounded teenager as he lay dying. The attacker was later convicted of murder. Hampshire Police have since apologised and an official investigation has been launched.
For Kisin, however, the story is about much more than one terrible mistake.
He argues that the incident exposes a deeper problem within many Western institutions. Following the death of George Floyd in 2020, governments, corporations, universities and police forces embraced extensive anti-racism programs, diversity training and identity-based policies. While intended to combat prejudice, Kisin contends that these initiatives have sometimes encouraged officials to view people primarily through the lens of race rather than as individuals.
The result is a form of institutional bias that would have been immediately recognised as racism had the races involved been reversed.
Kisin's central point is simple but provocative: racism cannot be defeated by creating new racial preferences or new racial assumptions. If accusations of racism are automatically given greater weight than evidence, if people are judged differently because of their ethnic background, or if equal treatment under the law is replaced by identity politics, then society has not eliminated racism. It has merely changed its direction.
Whether readers agree with Kisin's conclusions or not, the Henry Nowak case raises questions that deserve serious discussion.
Should police officers ever consider race when deciding whom to believe?
Can anti-racism policies inadvertently create new forms of discrimination?
Have Western institutions become so fearful of accusations of racism that they sometimes abandon the principle of equal treatment?
These are not easy questions, but they are questions that free societies must be willing to ask.
The ideal championed by Martin Luther King Jr. was that people should be judged by the content of their character, not the colour of their skin. Many would argue that remains the gold standard for a fair and just society.
We have drifted away from that principle. The pendulum has swung too far, and the pursuit of equality is being undermined by an ideology that increasingly treats people differently based on their racial identity.
Watch the video below and decide for yourself whether he is right.
For anyone still paying attention to the endless cycle of "deal on, deal off, deal on, deal off" negotiations with Iran, patience is wearing thin.
Western journalists are frustrated. Commentators are frustrated. Politicians are frustrated. Ordinary citizens who have followed this saga for years are frustrated.
Yet many experts on Iran point out that what we are witnessing is entirely consistent with the regime's negotiating style. Delay. Obfuscate. Stall. Buy time. Extract concessions. Then buy more time.
The Islamic regime has spent decades perfecting the art.
The current negotiations appear to be following the same script.
The regime's objective is not necessarily to secure a deal. Its objective is survival.
From Tehran's perspective, if it can avoid total military defeat, preserve the regime, and continue ruling Iran, it can claim victory regardless of the condition of the country it leaves behind.
That is why the current situation is so interesting.
For perhaps the first time in more than forty years, the regime finds itself genuinely vulnerable.
Its economy is battered.
Sanctions continue to bite.
Oil exports remain constrained.
Internal political tensions appear to be growing.
There are recurring reports of mysterious explosions and incidents whose causes remain unexplained.
Public dissatisfaction remains high.
The pressure on ordinary Iranians continues to increase.
None of these developments, by themselves, guarantee regime change. But together they create something the regime fears deeply: instability.
The longer this pressure continues, the greater the possibility that internal opposition gains momentum.
Meanwhile, the United States faces its own pressures.
President Trump is clearly being pulled in multiple directions.
Many Americans have little interest in another Middle Eastern conflict. Polling consistently shows that voters remain focused on issues much closer to home, particularly the cost of living, inflation, and economic security.
The mid-term elections are approaching.
The United States is also preparing to host the World Cup, a major international event that will dominate headlines and attention for weeks.
At the same time, Saudi Arabia is hosting the annual Hajj pilgrimage, bringing millions of Muslims together in one of the most significant religious events on Earth.
None of these factors make military escalation attractive.
It is therefore understandable that President Trump appears reluctant to resume large-scale military action unless absolutely necessary.
Yet there is another pressure that deserves equal attention.
The Iranian people.
For years Western leaders have spoken of supporting the Iranian people against their oppressors.
Western politicians have encouraged protests.
They have praised the courage of Iranian dissidents.
They have condemned the brutality of the regime.
If the West now walks away and allows the regime to recover, what message does that send to those brave men and women who risked everything in the hope of freedom?
Recent commentators at the Gatestone Institute have argued that abandoning pressure on Tehran at this moment would squander a historic opportunity. They contend that the regime is weaker than it has been in decades and that renewed negotiations merely provide breathing room for a government whose primary goal is survival. They also argue that military pressure remains a necessary option if the regime attempts to rebuild capabilities that threaten regional security.
Whether one agrees with every aspect of that argument or not, the central point is difficult to dismiss.
The job is only half done.
Iran today is not the confident, expansionist power it once was.
The regime is under pressure.
Its proxies have been weakened.
Its economy remains fragile.
Its population is restless.
Why relieve that pressure now?
The better strategy may be remarkably simple.
Stop negotiating.
Stop the endless cycle of deadlines, extensions, meetings, proposals, counter-proposals and diplomatic theatre.
Maintain the sanctions.
Maintain the economic restrictions.
Maintain the blockade on the resources that sustain the regime.
Continue to isolate the leadership.
Continue to support the Iranian people.
And wait.
Every day that passes imposes costs on Tehran.
Every day that passes increases pressure on the ruling elite.
Every day that passes reminds ordinary Iranians who is responsible for their misery.
The regime desperately wants relief.
Why provide it?
Let the negotiations lapse.
Let the regime feel the full weight of its choices.
Let Iran come begging for an agreement.
Then, and only then, negotiate from a position of overwhelming strength.
History rarely presents opportunities like this.
The West should not throw one away simply because it has become impatient.
Patience, after all, is a weapon too.
Whether you agree with all of his conclusions or not, the questions he raises deserve serious discussion.
At the heart of Sheridan's argument is a simple proposition: governments should administer the country, not use taxpayer funds to persuade citizens to adopt a particular political worldview.
Yet increasingly, billions of dollars are being spent not merely on implementing policy, but on promoting and entrenching a specific set of progressive beliefs.
He argues that Australia is moving towards a model where government agencies, publicly funded institutions, educational bodies, regulatory authorities, and advocacy organisations all reinforce the same ideological perspective. The result is not merely policy disagreement but a narrowing of acceptable public debate.
One of examples is climate policy.
Australians can reasonably disagree on the speed, cost, and method of transitioning to lower-emission energy sources. Yet many government-funded bodies present highly contested policy choices as settled facts.
Agencies tasked with implementing climate policy often simultaneously act as advocates for that policy. Alternative approaches—such as expanded gas generation, extended coal generation, or nuclear power—are frequently excluded from consideration before any public debate has even begun.
The issue is not whether climate change is real. The issue is whether taxpayers should be funding one side of a legitimate political debate.
There is a growing network of publicly funded bodies that increasingly take positions on contentious social and cultural issues.
These include:
The Climate Change Authority
The Australian Human Rights Commission
The Australian Law Reform Commission
Government-funded environmental advocacy organisations
Publicly funded educational institutions
Curriculum development bodies
Many of these organisations no longer operate as politically neutral institutions but instead actively promote progressive interpretations of social issues.
Again, reasonable people can disagree with that assessment. But it is difficult to deny that these organisations almost invariably speak with one ideological voice.
Another example is the Australian Human Rights Commission.
The Commission frequently comments on issues involving race, gender identity, discrimination, and historical grievances. Yet critics argue that it rarely defends competing values such as freedom of speech, freedom of religion, or equal treatment regardless of race.
The result is that taxpayers end up funding advocacy for one side of cultural debates while those holding alternative views must fund their own opposition.
That hardly seems like political neutrality.
Perhaps nowhere is this trend more visible than in education.
Progressive assumptions increasingly permeate school curricula and university culture. Certain viewpoints are encouraged, while others are treated as beyond the pale.
Universities were once places where ideas competed vigorously. Today many Australians have the impression that some ideas are welcomed while others are quietly excluded.
When institutions funded by all taxpayers become ideologically uniform, genuine intellectual diversity inevitably suffers.
Another concern raised is the continuing flow of public money and influence toward trade unions.
Unions play a legitimate role in representing workers. However, when organisations that are overtly political receive substantial financial advantages from government, questions naturally arise about whether taxpayers are indirectly funding partisan activity.
Those questions deserve answers.
The most important point Sheridan makes is not about any individual agency, program, or policy.
It is about the cumulative effect.
Each initiative may appear modest in isolation. But when government departments, schools, universities, regulators, commissions, unions, environmental groups, and publicly funded advocacy organisations all push in the same ideological direction, the result is a powerful political ecosystem funded by taxpayers.
Citizens who disagree are left in the curious position of financing arguments against their own views.
That should concern Australians of every political persuasion.
Today's progressive orthodoxy may be tomorrow's conservative orthodoxy. The principle remains the same.
Government should govern.
It should not use public money to engineer political conformity.
Australia has always benefited from robust public debate. Our democracy is strongest when ideas compete openly and citizens are free to reach their own conclusions.
The danger arises when governments stop trusting voters to think for themselves.
Whether one agrees with Greg Sheridan's conclusions or not, his article raises a question that every taxpayer should ask:
How much of our money is being spent solving problems—and how much is being spent teaching us what to think?
For those interested in the full argument, I recommend reading Greg Sheridan's original article in The Australian. It is a thought-provoking examination of a trend that deserves far more public scrutiny than it currently receives.
