Welcome to Eureka Street
Looking for thought provoking articles?Subscribe to Eureka Street and join the conversation.
Passwords must be at least 8 characters, contain upper and lower case letters, and a numeric value.
Eureka Street uses the Stripe payment gateway to process payments. The terms and conditions upon which Stripe processes payments and their privacy policy are available here.
Please note: The 40-day free-trial subscription is a limited time offer and expires 31/3/24. Subscribers will have 40 days of free access to Eureka Street content from the date they subscribe. You can cancel your subscription within that 40-day period without charge. After the 40-day free trial subscription period is over, you will be debited the $90 annual subscription amount. Our terms and conditions of membership still apply.
There are more than 200 results, only the first 200 are displayed here.
In December, the sprint to the end of the year is a drama of timing, perfectly illustrated in Christmas classic Die Hard: In the holiday rush, like Hans Gruber, we plot with precision. Yet life often demands we improvise like John McLane, finding the most welcome gifts of the season in the unscripted moments.
On 8 November, the High Court ordered a stateless Rohingya refugee known only as NZYQ to be released from detention. He could not be granted a visa because he was found gulity of sexually assaulting a minor, and he could not be sent anywhere because he is stateless. Until 8 November, he was stuck in indefinite mandatory detention.
Those who declare that the real enemy is war and who advocate for peace are usually criticised for being naively optimistic. But it is possible to recognise war to be the real enemy, while simultaneously recognising the complex challenges involved in avoiding war and encouraging peace.
Sixty years ago today, on November 22, 1963, the world lost three towering figures of the 20th century. On their diamond jubilee, do I think it was the end of the world as we know it when these three died? Each one shaped the twentieth century in a unique way. Each one left us with much to think about still.
A recent image of an Israeli soldier with a Pride flag in Gaza's rubble recalls Isabel Fall's controversial story, ‘I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter.’ The story and the photo both highlight how symbols of liberation can be co-opted for conflict, underscoring the need to reclaim these symbols for their original, liberating intent.
From the eyes of history, the current cycle of violence, sharpened by each side claiming that it had suffered the greater injustice, is itself the product of a much older cycle. In our own, multi-religious society we must all recognise the need to implement justice for all the vulnerable in society. Violence does not work. Justice must prevail.
The spectacular rise and fall of Sam Bankman-Fried is a story that began with unfettered brilliance and financial wizardry, but quickly unraveled into an all-too familiar cautionary tale of swindlers, conmen, and morally vacuous ambition.
Religion and politics are frequent bedfellows. Despite many clerics and bishops holding strong political views, and many lay Catholics being active within political parties, the successful embrace of synodality depends upon finding middle ground, and leaders who respect a diversity of views.
As demonstrated in debates around the Voice, increasingly divergent perceptions of reality affect our dedication to our societal obligations and the upkeep of our shared core values. If left unchecked, this drift away from a shared understanding of the common good will further undermine trust and mutual respect that bind us, challenging the very foundations of a humane, civilised and inclusive society.
As the government drafts legislation to stem the rising tide of misinformation circulating online, the nation debates: will these measures sufficiently regulate online content and curb potential harms or threaten freedom of expression? This moment is a critical test for the integrity of Australia's public discourse.
Can the essence of human frailty—our inconsistencies, our biases, our passions—really be replicated in ones and zeros? And if so, what becomes of the human voice once the machines learn to speak?
The proposed Misinformation Bill straddles the delicate balance between freedom of speech and the rising threat of misinformation, posing a challenge that could redefine the landscape of media and public conversation. The problem goes beyond discerning the truth, but determining how a democratic society identifies it amid a sea of conflicting voices.
37-48 out of 200 results.