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 24 results, only the first 24 are displayed here.
Become a subscriber for more search results.
As Donald Trump’s trade war upends decades of global economic orthodoxy, globalisation is quietly folding. Protectionism is back, self-sufficiency is in vogue, and Australia, thanks to its deindustrialised economy, largely escapes the fallout. But in a shifting world of tariffs and deficits, what comes next is anyone’s guess.
While much of the world drifts toward political extremes, Australia did something quietly radical: it chose the centre. In a night of subdued triumphs and unexpected grace, it was a reminder that democracy’s strength may still lie in its capacity for moderation, mercy, and surprise.
In an era of reflex opinion and vanishing accountability, moral seriousness can seem an anachronism. Yet history teaches that ideas — and the people who defend them — shape lives and nations.
Despite the raging storm, I clearly see a figure on the Sea of Galilee/ a Son of Man/ with outstretched hands/ and he is calling me.
As cardinals gather in Rome, they must confront declining trust, shifting global power, financial scandals, and unresolved doctrinal divides within the Church. More than a choice of leader, this moment is a reckoning with modernity and the future direction of the Church itself.
From across the Pacific, Australia’s election looks refreshingly sane: debates over fuel taxes and modest wage hikes. But the surface calm belies deeper frustrations: housing scarcity, voter disillusionment, political evasion. But for an American watching from a fractured homeland, the question is how long that difference can hold.
Three elections, three systems, one shared question: what kind of person should lead? As voters and cardinals choose their next leaders, attention turns from policy to personality — to character, courage, and conviction. In an age of division, the qualities that guide a life may yet decide the fate of nations.
Pope Francis’ pontificate was marked not by triumph but by a humble reckoning with failure. In a Church marked by scandal, division, and decline, he didn’t reverse the tide but pointed to another measure of faithfulness: mercy over mastery, presence over power, and the courage to fail, not downward, but upward.
And so as the 21st century marked its first quarter, reality in the most powerful country on Earth slipped into a vortex of blurred lines of what it meant to be a living, moral being.
As Australia prepares to vote, the legacy of Petro Georgiou casts a long shadow, reminding us that politics can still be principled, compassionate, and deeply human. He reshaped multicultural policy, challenged cruelty, and proved that conscience has a place in party politics.
Faith, once a quiet undercurrent in Australian elections, is now entangled in questions of ethnic identity, foreign policy and cultural grievance. Religion has returned to the centre of political life, only to find itself more divided, and more contested, than ever before.
As we witness those wars that continue to rage, we might wonder, this Anzac Day, what were the effects on our First Nations people when their lands were first taken? We can now see only too clearly that it is difficult, if not impossible in the longer term, to defend one’s land when the invader has more powerful resources and shows no intention of negotiating peace.
13-24 out of 24 results.