Looking up at the nighttime sky with a telescope is an irreplaceable experience.

This article was first published on my Substack webpage here. It is republished here for consistency.

The humble telescope is not an instrument that is featured in the media headlines. But it is an invention which has revolutionised our understanding of the planets, the galaxies, the stars and the universe. Getting a telescope as a child was an outstanding experience; looking up at the nighttime sky piqued my curiosity about what makes up outer space.

So here is an idea; how about introducing telescopes in school. No, not every student wants to be an astronomer. No, not every child aspires to be a scientist. However, a telescope in school introduces students to the techniques used, and information gathered by, astronomers and scientists.

Yes, every student now has access to a mobile device or a computer. The ubiquity of the internet has made information about the stars, planets and galaxies easily accessible. You can download the astronomy picture of the day, and that sparks wonder and admiration of the cosmic realm. 

Of course telescopes, like every other scientific device, has undergone massive technological changes over the years. Telescopes are light collectors, and we view space objects in the visible light spectrum. 

They have become updated to observe and collect data from the nonvisible bands of the electromagnetic spectrum. When connected to a computer, a telescope becomes a data processor. Now there are telescopes that, for instance, observe the X-ray portion of the EM spectrum. Ground-based telescopes, while highly sophisticated, are now supplemented by space-based telescopes. 

The James Webb Space Telescope is one of a number deployed to outer space. The Earth’s atmosphere and the artificial electric light of urban environments interfere with the quality of Earth-bound telescopes.

Currently, telescopes are so sophisticated, their capabilities are astonishing. Consider the following; astronomers have made a 3D map of the atmosphere of Uranus.

Ok, okay – let’s get all the juvenile jokes out of the way, about Uranus and gas. Get it off your chest – the infantile urge to make jokes about the name Uranus and butts. Ok, is that over? Fine. 

The planet, correctly pronounced ‘Yoor-an-us’, is named after the Ancient Greek god Ouranos. I have previously written about Uranus here. The first planet to be discovered by telescope, in 1781, Uranus has intrigued astronomers since then. Its atmosphere, thought to be bland and uneventful, is anything but that.

Composed mostly of hydrogen, the upper atmosphere of Uranus has been mapped by astronomers using the James Webb telescope. Learning more about the atmosphere of another planet helps us to understand planetary formation is its early stages. The magnetic field is also bizarre; rather than having a stable dipole structure similar to the Earth’s magnetosphere, Uranus’ magnetic field is unstable, much like a flailing jellyfish.

In Australia, we have a very narrow, parochial and opportunistic view of science education. The question, so after you have stated the science courses you are taking, is ‘so what can you do with that?’ We view education as a kind of garden implement; we learn only so we can ‘do something with it’, like a lawn mower or whipper snipper.

Now it is not wrong to think about the practical application of science courses. But if you study a subject only because you want to ‘do something with it’, then your education will be limited and confining. Education is a lifelong journey, and each topic has its own merits. 

When I signed up for high school geology, I inevitably faced the question ‘do you want to be a geologist?’ My answer was no, not necessarily. So why did I study that course? Because every branch of science is endlessly fascinating, and rewarding in its own right. 

Let us for the moment accept that I should be ‘doing something’ with a subject after studying it. Well, I can say that I am definitely doing something with the geology course. No, I am not a geologist, but I am applying what I learned in that subject to life today.

In 1986, the first lesson of geology class for the year was dedicated to examining the Challenger Space Shuttle disaster. This was the topic that we addressed in class, first lesson back from the summer holidays. We examined, as much as we could given the availability of information regarding that tragedy, the causes and consequences of the disaster.

Here we are, 40 years later, and the Challenger disaster is still a topic of investigative pieces, such as this one on the ABC. It remains a pivotal disaster in the history of the US space programme. I do not wish to disrespect or insult the memory of the seven dead astronauts, but let us observe the following.

In 1988, barely two years after the Challenger catastrophe, the Soviet space programme Interkosmos, successfully launched a team of cosmonauts which included Abdul Ahad Momand, an Afghan pilot and that nation’s first (and so far only) cosmonaut. The Interkosmos programme recruited and trained cosmonauts from non-aligned and Eastern bloc nations into the Soviet space programme.

Science education is one of those things where, you do not notice it until it is gone. With the Trump administration’s cutbacks to science programmes, including NASA, scientific education is under threat. The ability of future generations to tackle the hard scientific questions will be severely undermined if we do not invest now in building the required knowledge capital of students.

My late father admired the Cossacks – I think I now have an explanation for why that was the case.

This article was first published on my Substack webpage here. I am republishing it here for consistency.

My late father was a strong admirer of the Cossacks. Yes, the Cossacks, you know, the fur-hat wearing, horseback riding, sword wielding squat-and-kick dancing people. I was often perplexed why he enthused so much about a people with whom we have no connection. Armenians are not Cossacks, we do not speak the same languages, and we do not inhabit the Cossack territories spread out over southern Russia and Ukraine.

My father repeatedly watched an old historical epic movie Taras Bulba (1962). Based on a famous novel by Russian writer Nikolai Gogol, the movie dramatises (and somewhat fictionalises) the Cossack uprising against the Polish empire in the 1600s. Apart from Yul Brynner’s overacting as the titular character, I found it also perplexing that my father was so passionate about the Cossack revolt. Sure, I understand backing the underdog, but why Cossacks?

I think I have an answer to that question, but first, I need to clarify a few points here.

Vasily Nebenzia, the Russian permanent representative to the United Nations, a man who vociferously supports and promotes the Kremlin’s position on the international stage, made a startling remark only a week ago. He said, formally speaking, he is Ukrainian. If you did a double take, that is okay. Most observers did. What exactly did he mean when he said he was Ukrainian, technically speaking?

His parents were of Zaporozhian Cossack heritage, an ethno-linguistic group located in Ukraine. Cossacks are not a race, but an East Slavic people divided into regional kinship lines. Nebenzia elaborated that his heritage qualifies him as more Ukrainian than the current leadership in Kyiv. Ukrainians and Russians have an intermixed history. 

He related how his father, a Cossack, volunteered to join and fought for the Soviet army in World War 2. The Cossacks are traditionally a conservative force, and were used by Tsarist Russia as strikebreakers and enforcers for royal authority. However, after the 1917 Bolshevik revolution, Cossacks did join the Communist side, and fought with distinction in the Soviet military.

The picture above is of a Cossack regiment marching in the 2021 Victory Day parade, in Red Square, Moscow.

Another film involving Cossacks that my father watched frequently was The Tempest (1958). A dramatisation of the Pugachev rebellion, the insurrection was the largest peasant uprising in Russian history. Led by Russian Cossack and soldier in the Imperial Russian army, Yemelyan Pugachev, he articulated the demands of the long oppressed peasantry. 

Starting in September 1773, the uprising spread throughout central Russia, and the Empress Catherine the Great was compelled to reinforce Moscow’s defences. Eventually, the Russian authorities got their act together, deploying enough troops to finally crush the insurrection. Taken to Moscow in a wooden cage, Pugachev himself was executed in 1775.

In the 1958 movie, an exchange takes place between the captured Pugachev and the Tsarina Catherine. Whether this incident is true or not, I do not know, however, it does highlight a contradiction at the heart of Tsarist Russian authority. When Catherine challenged Pugachev, asking why he should run the country and not her, he shouted “because I’m a Russian and you’re not!”. Technically speaking he was right.

Pugachev was a Russian Cossack; Catherine the Great was German. She invited Germans to settle in Russian territories, especially those which were newly conquered from the Ottoman Turkish empire.

My father was so impressed by the Cossacks. He was emotionally involved in their struggle for self determination. I found all of this perplexing. After all, let’s not forget that while Cossacks rebelled furiously against their Polish overlords, they carried out widespread antisemitic pogroms throughout the lands now forming Ukraine and south-central Russia. 

The Cossack chieftains romanticised in Hollywood movies were also murderers of the Jewish people. Cossacks formed the shock troops of Tsar, ruthlessly crushing any rebellion against royal authority. 

I wrote about the Cossacks in this article, where I took up some of the modern political issues involving the Cossacks. I do not wish to recapitulate all the topics here. Since the early 1990s, there has been a revival of sorts of Cossack culture and influence. Russian president Vladimir Putin has encouraged the growth of nationalistic Cossacks, cultivating a sense of pride in Russia’s imperial past.

Let’s attempt an answer to the question that prompted this article – why was my father so enamoured of the Cossacks? I think I have an explanation – because he was searching for a sense of belonging. He admired the Cossacks for their ties of fraternity and brotherhood. I think my father did not really find a sense of belonging, of being accepted and valued, in Australia.

He had his friends and activities, to be sure. But I think that he lost his anchor in life, his rudder, when he left his native Egypt. The Cossacks, while being a completely different people from Armenians, nevertheless presented a group of people bound together by a collective identity. The need to belong is a deep seated human emotional motivation. Being connected with your shared community, practicing the same values and upholding similar beliefs, is necessary for good mental health.

I hope that he has found his fraternal people, and has filled that particular void in his life. No, there is no afterlife – there is no sequel. But I take comfort in the knowledge that he found a sense of connection among the Cossacks. While I have no interest in promoting Cossack nationalism, I am glad that he finally found the place he was meant to be.

The Nazi party advocated the Aryan race myth, but they did not invent it.

We like to think that misinformation began in the era of social media. Misinformation plagues our networks, making it difficult for readers to sift through the deluge of content. Certainly, misinformation has been amplified by social media. One click of a button, and misleading content can circulate to an audience of millions.

However, we would do well to remind ourselves that misinformation existed decades before the age of social media and the internet. There is one consequential fabrication, a piece of misinformation that predates the internet, and has had frightful consequences. This invented knowledge has resulted in fratricidal conflict, and has cost millions of human lives.

What am I referring to? I am talking about the myth of an Aryan race. The word Aryan is a legitimate label, and has its place in comparative language studies. It is also one of the most misused, abused and misleading words to ever infect public discourse.

The pseudoscientific concept of an Aryan race, a blue-eyed, blonde haired, fair-skinned warrior people, did not originate with the Nazis, but in the European romantic nationalist ideologies and pseudoarchaeology of the 18th and 19th centuries. It may seem like an obsolete curiosity today – why bother going over thoroughly discredited theories? We can learn about ourselves, and our modern history, by retracing the steps which brought us here.

Aryan is not a race, it is an ethnolinguistic category. It means ‘noble’ or ‘honourable’ in Sanskrit and Indo-Iranian languages. It is a self-designated tribal description, referring to a social group of people who participate in specific ritual and religious practices. In fact, the Aryans of Iran and northern India each contain references in their respective holy texts. The Rig Veda in Hinduism refers to Aryans, without any racial or ethnic connotations.

In ancient Persian, the word Aryan has a cognate, eran, meaning honourable. It refers to upright, ethical behaviour, and has nothing to do with race. The revelation that European languages, such as Latin and Greek, bore similarities with ancient languages such as Sanskrit, prompted the categorisation of a language group known as Indo-European. I have written about this huge family of languages in a previous article.

European philologists, such as Sir William Jones, did not intentionally deploy the use of the word Aryan to denote race. However, European scholars did their utmost to give the term a racial inflection, thus perverting the original meaning of Aryan into a racial one.

Biblical ethnography

The standard ethnographic picture of the 18th century world was derived from biblical roots. Organising humanity into a hierarchy. from Noah’s sons, Ham, Shem and Japheth, was accepted by scientists in Europe. Japheth’s descendants formed the Europeans, who were the nobility. Shem’s children and subsequent descendants, the black Africans, were servants and slaves. Ham and his children gave rise to the priestly class.

This nice, neat, hierarchical configuration of humanity was coming undone. The discovery of the Americas, and its indigenous populations, blasted a gigantic hole in the Old Testament chronology. The world could no longer be traced back to Noah’s sons. The mosaic based ethnology needed an upgrade.

It came in the form of a racial hierarchy. 

The new discipline of philology was discerning similarities in disparate languages. Indeed, the Indo-European language family was highlighting the common descent between linguistic groups.

Linguistic affinity between Sanskrit, Greek, Latin and other European languages was transformed into support for a racial hierarchy. Comparative philology was a reasonably new area of enquiry in the 18th and 19th centuries. If languages had siblings and ancestors, and humans have ancestors – could there be an ancestral race of humans? The Aryan paradigm began to replace the biblical construct.

The Volk

European nationalism was undergoing a revival of sorts. The German cult of the Volk, connecting notions of race, blood purity and soil, cultivated biological certainties that applied to groups of humans.

Comparing languages became, not a quest to find what unites us as humans, but a project of social Darwinism decades before Darwin. Language similarities, between Sanskrit, Greek and Latin, moved from philology and hardened into biological verities.

Notice how the construction of a fabricated Aryan race is not the product of a few lunatics on the fringes of society, but an end product of scholars, writers and respectable civil servants. Couched in an aura of scientific objectivity, Aryan became a tool of imperial European propaganda disguised as mere academic scholarship.

What started as a quest to understand non-European languages, was transmogrified into a racial category. 

French writer and diplomat Arthur de Gobineau (1816 – 1882) was one of the earliest theorists to systematise the ideology of racism, and elaborate the Aryan race claim. Descended from French aristocrats, he wrote the influential work An Essay on the Inequality of Human Races. Responding to the 1848 uprisings in Europe, Gobineau theorised that the aristocratic class was mostly descended from Aryans, and that the decline of civilisation was due to race-mixing.

Elaborating a purportedly ‘scientific’ racism, Gobineau stated that the Aryans and their descendants occupied the apex of civilisation, and should maintain their racial purity. Though Gobineau’s essay was criticised in his native France, his book was widely praised in German nationalist circles, as well as among American white supremacist slave owners, who found a theoretical justification for their segregationist worldview.

Hitler and the Nazi party did not invent the doctrine of Aryanism, or the idea that humanity could be organised into a racial hierarchy.

Houston Stewart Chamberlain (1855 – 1927) was a British born proponent of German ethnonationalist racism and antisemitism. Advocating the pseudoscientific theory of an Aryan race, his writings and pronouncements influenced a generation of Germans. He is described by one scholar as Hitler’s John the Baptist. He constructed a pseudo archaeological foundation for an Aryan people, claiming they were an ancient race that invaded India centuries ago. 

In his influential book The Foundations of the Nineteenth Century (1899) he expounded his view that the Aryan race, of which the Germans and white Northern Europeans are a part, would eventually dominate the world. European civilisation, he opined, was weakened by racial intermixing.

It is important to disentangle misinformation no matter how old its provenance. The misuse of the word Aryan, while not as widespread as before, still persists. Old ideas can find new forms of expression. The notion of an Aryan race had lethal consequences for those who were classified as non-Aryan. Let’s understand the provenance and veracity (or lack thereof) of misinformation before it provides a basis for toxic ecosystems.

Cook employed Tupaia, a Polynesian polymath, as a navigator and cultural mediator.

This article was first published on my Substack webpage here.

The ancient Greeks were a maritime civilisation, launching and conducting extensive seafaring trade and exploration missions. We know about them through their writings and legends – the Jason and the Argonauts myth springs to mind. But how many of us, particularly in Australia, realise that we are close to a seafaring people whose achievements surpass that of the ancient Greeks?

I am referring to the Polynesians. They were navigating and seafaring over thousands of nautical miles, centuries before other maritime societies.

While the European Vikings were just beginning their Atlantic maritime travels, the Polynesians were already settling the thousands of islands within the 300 000 to 310 000 square kilometre area that makes up the region of Polynesia. The Polynesian triangle is the area bounded by Hawaii in the north, New Zealand in the southwest, and Rapa Nui (Easter Island) in the east. They began their navigational explorations in 1000 BCE, and settled every island, volcanic or otherwise, by 1250 CE.

This photo is courtesy of the History TL:DR Substack webpage.

They did so by accumulating and passing on to future generations navigational knowledge and skills. Their seafaring covered the Pacific Ocean – in the days when there was no GPS or electronic tracking. Their skill in navigating such a vast ocean territory is truly extraordinary.

The Polynesians did not know about the magnetic poles, nor did they have a compass or sextant. They did develop their own version of the compass, a celestial navigation system – a star compass, if you will. They had a system for dividing the sky into sections, memorising the star patterns in each section. They calculated time by the position of the sun over the horizon. 

They also studied the ocean swells and currents, determining the direction of travel by using those currents for speed. Their canoes were built for manoeuvrability and endurance for those long ocean voyages. They navigated by the migratory patterns of birds, identifying which species migrated when during the year and in what season. The elders of the Polynesian nations were a kind of university, passing on their wisdom to the younger generations. 

The Pacific Ocean was the foundational geographic feature of Polynesian society, in much the same way as the Mediterranean was for Ancient Greek cities.

It is no exaggeration to state, as Karl Sheppard does over at the History TL:DR substack website, the Polynesians created the most extensive maritime civilisation the world has ever known. 

One of the people who used Polynesian navigation knowledge was Captain James Cook. 

Let’s recognise the indispensable role of Tupaia

Cook arrived in Tahiti in 1769. His knowledge of the Pacific and its peoples was limited, to say the least. He was helped by a remarkable Polynesian navigator and high priest, Tupaia. Born in 1725, Tupaia was an educated person, a kind of aristocrat in the kinship-organised kingdoms of Polynesian nations. His role was a custodian of astronomical and navigational education, to pass on the knowledge of maritime navigation and the natural environment. He spoke several Polynesian languages.

Born in what Europeans call the Society Islands, he approached the British when the HMS Endeavour arrived. He sought their help in a conflict his people had with a rival nation. His knowledge of the islands, the edible plants, the depth of the seas, the location of coral reefs, made him an indispensable navigator for Captain Cook. Tupaia basically took navigational control of the Endeavour, given the depth and skill of Polynesian seafaring.

Cook entrusted Tupaia with serving as a kind of cultural mediator with other Polynesian nations, particularly the Māori of New Zealand- Aoetearoa. Tupaia’s skills as a negotiator came into play, and Cook’s voyaging and interaction with the indigenous nations would not have been possible without the support of Tupaia.

The British understood the pivotal role that Tupaia played in their success – their goal was to reach the little understood land of Australia. Polynesian seafaring knowledge, via the teacher Tupaia, enabled the British to survive in unknown waters, find reliable food supplies, and navigate the cultural landscape with the Polynesian peoples.

The indigenous people of Australia are not Polynesian, but Melanesian. Tupaia did not know any of the languages native to the indigenous Australian nation, nor did they understand his. So Tupaia’s role as a cultural mediator ended. Sadly, Tupaia died in the Dutch East Indies of a shipborne illness (most likely either dysentery or malaria) in 1770.

His crucial role as navigator and cultural mediator was ignored by the British. Only in recent years has Tupaia received the kind of recognition that he richly deserved.

There are numerous Captain Cook statues dotting the landscape across Australian cities. In the wake of the debates regarding decolonisation, the toppling of statues of reprehensible figures has arisen in Australia. Should we remove the statues and memorials dedicated to Captain Cook? There are those who wish to retain the Cook statues as they are. If that is the case, and the majority of my fellow Australians decide to keep said statues, I will respect their decision.

I have an alternative suggestion. At the base of each Cook statue let’s attach a plaque of information which states that Cook’s success would have been impossible with Tupaia, the Polynesian navigator. In much that same way that paintings are accompanied by a brief paragraph explaining their provision, each Cook statue should carry a disclaimer that Cook’s hero status was entirely dependent on the knowledge of the Polynesian maritime navigator to whom he refused to give credit.

Some time ago, back in December 2023, I wrote an article examining the ethical responsibility of scientists, particularly those working on military projects. The Manhattan Project, the WW2 American scientific-military project to construct an atomic bomb, was an obvious example of the troubling ethical implications of deploying science for military outcomes.

Let’s explore this topic further. First, let’s begin with some definitions.

What is hasbara? It is an Israeli term meaning ‘explaining’. The Israeli government, realising that public opinion is a powerful force, has deployed what we would call propaganda to promote the Zionist cause. Articulated by the Polish Zionist activist Nahum Sokolow in the early 20th century, Hasbara is a propaganda effort to control and influence perceptions of debates surrounding Israeli government policies and practices. 

In the age of social media, Hasbara has adapted to the new medium. Sowing doubts about the veracity of Palestinian and anti-Zionist critics of the Israeli state, Hasbara is a refined, granular application of what in the old colonial days would have been called propaganda. Private sector companies, working in collaboration with Israeli government institutions, produce copious amounts of propaganda material, advocating the Israeli government’s perspective and countering its critics.

Shaping perceptions of Israeli government actions is not new in this age of social media. Through Hasbara, Zionism’s supporters have promoted an image of Israel as a scientifically advanced, technologically sophisticated society. There is an element of truth to this; Israeli leaders from David Ben Gurion (1886 – 1973) and Chaim Weizmann (1874 – 1952) emphasised the importance and development of science to consolidate the Israeli government’s control of occupied Palestinian land.

What is left out of this picture is that Ben Gurion, Weizmann and their colleagues were specifically interested in the development of military applications for scientific projects. Weizmann, for instance, was a chemist, and he used his technical skills to develop weapons for the fledgling state. Ben Gurion made no secret of his desire to see Israel become a nuclear power. He never wrestled with the ethical consequences of atomic power, and never once hesitated advocating its use against his Arab neighbours. 

Israeli government leaders have, since the initiation of its secretive nuclear programme in the 1950s, neither officially confirmed nor denied the development and possession of nuclear weapons.

Though I did not fully realise it at the time, I got an instructive lesson in the power of Hasbara in June 1981. In that month, Israeli warplanes struck and destroyed an unfinished Iraqi nuclear reactor located 17 kilometres south east of Baghdad, Iraq. Named Osirak, it was being constructed by French technicians. The Israeli air strike, ironically, came after forces from the Islamic Republic of Iran bombed the nuclear facility. Iran and Iraq were engaged in warfare at the time.

Israeli forces violated the airspace of several Arab nations to target this reactor. Whether it was actually capable of building a nuclear weapon is still questionable. What the attack demonstrated was the Israeli government’s willingness to maintain a monopoly on nuclear weapons. Opponents of the Israeli state were not going to be permitted to develop any nuclear capability.

This air strike was portrayed as a purely defensive reaction to the allegedly aggressive ambitions of the Ba’athist state in Iraq. The West was quite happy to support Iraq’s ambitions against Iran at the time, supplying Baghdad with weapons and intelligence information. Israel’s status as just a puny David confronting an Arab Goliath was promoted in the aftermath of the Osirak attack. 

Ironically, the only achievement of the June 1981 attack was to convince the Iraqi leadership of the necessity to pursue nuclear weapons. A rogue air strike, which violated international law, only convinced the Iraqi government that the best way to protect itself in the future is to arm itself with nuclear weapons.

There has been a deluge of coverage regarding the so-called Twelve Day War of 2025 between Iran and Israel. Each side exchanged missile and bombing attacks, and I do not intend to go into an extensive analysis here – that would require a separate essay. However, we can make some pertinent observations here. 

Tehran targeted numerous military sites and installations in Israel. One of the targets was the Weizmann Institute of Science. Yes, numerous civilian scientists have graduated from that institution, and some have gone on to win Nobel prizes. It is also heavily involved in Israeli military research, producing technologies deployed by the Israeli military against the Palestinians.

The Iranian attack, in June 2025, inflicted heavy damage on the facility in Rehovot, Israel. Multiple labs, scientific equipment and projects were destroyed. No, it is not right to attack a scientific institution, but I am not going to outright condemn it either. Israeli authorities, for decades, have bragged to overseas audiences about their scientific capabilities and its purportedly sophisticated military technology. 

Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu boasted, for instance, about the Iron Dome, the allegedly state-of-the-art mobile air defence system. It was so effective, so we were told, even Australian military chiefs were demanding that such a defence system be developed in Australia.

Iran’s missile strikes against Israeli military installations and government facilities exposed not only the many holes in the Iron Dome, but also the gap between Israeli government propaganda and reality. Scientists are not operating in a social vacuum, they reflect the values of the institutions for whom they work.

Iran, we are instructed by Hasbara, is controlled by mad, fanatical ayatollahs. That may be the case. Perhaps the mad mullahs want to fight until the bitter end, and welcome Armageddon. The twelve day war demonstrated that the Iranian military developed sophisticated technology, capable of responding to its opponents. That indicates a degree of preparation, scientific research and knowledge gathering, rational decision making and evaluation of enemy capabilities.

Perhaps the madness resides, not in the minds of the supposedly insane ayatollahs, but in those politicians in the imperialist West who are banking on nuclear weapons as a safeguard. Indeed, nuclear proliferation and all its attendant consequences is the inevitable result of paranoia-driven national and scientific security policies. 

I have written on multiple occasions about how Canada, after the end of WW2, emerged as a sanctuary for Nazi war criminals and their Eastern European collaborators, especially Ukrainians, fleeing justice in Europe. This issue is important for a number of reasons, but mainly because the powers-that-be need to be held accountable for their actions.

Let’s approach this topic from another angle – being a change maker. The term ‘change maker’ or ‘change agent’ is one of the many corporate buzzwords that make the rounds. Lison Mage is a thoughtful and intelligent change makes, who writes a newsletter on her webpage. You may find her articles on LinkedIn.

She describes a particular incident, a change making episode, which has relevance for our purposes here. She goes to a local gym and sauna, which is supposed to be equipped with a digital clock timer. That timer is frequently broken, and a repair request has to be submitted to the appropriate contractors. Now, we wait….and wait….this period of waiting can take weeks, even months.

The digital timer is repaired, only to break down again soon afterwards. Another repair request is submitted, and the waiting period begins again. Needless to say, gym and sauna customers frequently grumble, venting their frustrations at the glacial pace of change.

One fine day, Lison Mage had enough. She went across the road to a shop, bought a cheap manual timer and gave it to the gym. The lesson here? Don’t wait for the authorities to move; if you see a practical solution, implement it according to your resources.

As Lison Mage stated, we do not always need permission from the top to make a difference and implement changes as individuals. That is a great lesson to learn. But I think that is only one side of the coin. We also need to hold the powers-that-be accountable for their decisions and actions.

From the 1950s onwards, members of armed Ukrainian Nazi-collaborating organisations – people who had actively assisted the Nazi military in carrying out the Holocaust – were provided sanctuary in Canada. Ukrainians belonging to the Waffen SS unit Galician were welcomed by Ottawa authorities as reliable anticommunists. What was the evidence of their anticommunism? Their SS tattoos.

Initially provided safe haven in the UK, the members of the Organisation of Ukrainian Nationalists (OUN) who had actively served the Nazi armies and SS, made their way to Canada. Ottawa required an influx of new migrants, not only as a labour force, but also to combat the largely left-leaning Ukrainian Canadians, who has organised themselves in the labour movement of the 1930s and 40s.

These ultranationalist Ukrainians were useful in the context of the Cold War. Ottawa, similarly to other capitalist governments, wanted to combat the labour movement and communist organising in its own ranks. Former members of the Waffen SS certainly had experience in fighting workers’ unions.

Not only were Ukrainian Nazi collaborators welcomed into Canada, their wartime leaders were honoured and valorised as heroes. Statues memorialising Srepan Bandera, Roman Shukhevych and other antisemitic killers have been erected in Canada. Ukrainian Canadian schoolchildren are taught that the OUN were patriotic heroes, dedicated to an independent Ukraine – conveniently left out of this picture is the role of an OUN-run state as a Nazi proxy.

The political scandal of welcoming Nazis – and this while Canadian authorities closed their doors to European Jews fleeing Nazi persecution during the war – has been swept under the carpet. Ottawa authorities have avoided accountability for these policies until this very day. The only reason that this scandal has come to light is through the dedicated efforts of Canadian Jewish organisations and individuals, as well as antifascist groups around the world.

Multiple historians and investigators have written about the ratlines; underground escape routes used by Nazi war criminals to escape justice in postwar Europe. Let’s face it, their escape was facilitated by powerful institutions, such as the Vatican. That topic requires its own essay.

The role of Ottawa in providing sanctuary for Nazi criminals is a particularly egregious example of Cold War politics superseding concern for human rights.

Individual Jewish voices and groups have spoken out about this shameful episode in Canadian history. As individuals, we can all do our part to push the wheel of justice forwards. I am certainly not suggesting that we are simply helpless, and at the mercy of forces we cannot control. Each person that speaks up, and makes their contribution for change is invaluable.

This must be accompanied by a collective commitment to hold the powers at the top accountable for their actions. Strong vibes from a quiet source can certainly make waves. Ottawa’s reputation as a haven for Nazi criminals is well deserved; more people should know about it. Let’s not ignore Australia’s role in receiving the travellers of the ratlines, and providing peaceful sanctuary for Nazi criminals as well. Small ripples add up to large waves.

This article was first published on my Substack web page here. I am reproducing it here for consistency.

Finlandia, a symphonic tone poem by Finnish composer and national hero Jean Sibelius (1865 – 1957) is a stirring piece of music. I first heard it at an event, Music in the Park, in Sydney’s Domain. The event, which features an extensive selection of classical music pieces, is an open concert. Everyone brings their fold-up chairs, dry white wine, cheese and crackers. Thousands of people attend. I went around about 1997-98.

When the Finlandia work was announced as the next in the repertoire for the night, an elderly upper-crust lady seated next to me exclaimed ‘oh, marvellous’. I thought she sounded like Dame Penelope Keith, the ultra-refined culturally sophisticated To the Manor Born Received Pronunciation accented lady (what used to be called the Queen’s English).

Behind me was a Turkish family, sipping wine from their esky which they brought for the open air concert. While I don’t speak Turkish, I can pick up the language: the words, tone and intonation are family to me. Each language has its particular characteristics that make it distinguishable. I thought, wow, another non-English speaking background (NESB) person who enjoys classical music, and in particular Finlandia.

Finlandia – national aspirations

Sibelius wrote this orchestral tableaux as a nationalist protest for Finnish independence from Tsarist Russia. Drawing from Finland’s nature and indomitable spirit, Finlandia is a stirring tribute to Finnish patriotism. Sibelius drew together Finnish folklore with inspiration from the natural environment to produce a masterpiece. He created an emotionally charged musical tapestry, reflecting his deep commitment to Finnish independence.

Sibelius himself, it should be noted, actually spoke Swedish as his birth language. He only learned Finnish much later in life. Sweden was the traditional occupying power in Finland, colonising the latter nation for hundreds of years. Swedish cultural influences persisted in Finland for decades, long after the Swedish empire itself was defeated.

This is not to impugn Sibelius’ character as a stooge of the Swedes, or anything like that. It is to simply reflect the fact that Finland’s independence was denied by Sweden for a long time. Finnish children grew up learning and speaking Swedish. Finnish culture had to break through institutional barriers. Yet, the two nations today enjoy friendly cooperation and mutual respect.

Sweden and Finland, longstanding historical adversaries, have put their differences aside, and constructed cooperative, friendly relations in the economic, industrial and cultural spheres. The same cannot be said for Finland’s relations with the historical adversary to its East, Russia. 

It is true that Finland, economically and demographically, is a mouse compared to the giant that is Russia. The mouse has had to fight for its sovereignty; there is no question of that. Imperial Russia was indeed a prison house of nations for its subject non-Russian nationalities. Tsarist censorship and greater Russian national chauvinism permeated every aspect of life in royalist Imperial Russia. 

It should be noted in this regard that Sweden, during its expansionist phase, did try to invade the Russian north, only to be defeated. This military defeat of the Swedish empire forced Stockholm to retreat, providing Finland with breathing space to assert its national aspirations. If you want further information on this point, read about the Battle of Poltava in July 1709.

After six centuries of rule by Sweden, Finland became a part of the Tsarist Russian empire in 1809. The Finns remained a subject people of Imperial Russia until 1918.

Finnish civil war, Karelia, the Winter War and the alliance with Nazi Germany

Let’s elaborate some relevant background here. Finland was given independence from Imperial Russia in the immediate aftermath of the 1917 Bolshevik revolution. This period marks the transition; Finland the victim now deployed its victimhood as a disguise for aggression.

Lenin and the Communist leadership accepted that non-Russian nationalities should have their independence. The Communist ideology inspired the abortive, short lived Red Finland experiment in 1918. Finnish workers established their own Soviet republic.

That experiment would be mercilessly crushed by an alliance of anticommunist privileged Finns, backed up by German troops. The Finnish ruling class, headed by General Carl Mannerheim, violently suppressed the Finnish workers, assisted in this undertaking by German light infantry, the Jaegers.

Ironically, Mannerheim had trained as an officer in Tsarist Russia.

The Finnish civil war established Mannerheim’s reputation as an able military commander, but also demonstrated his willingness to kill his fellow Finns, enabled by outside support. It was not the last time that Germans and Finns would fight together.

Mannerheim and the Helsinki government launched their own war of aggression, attempting to annex the territory of Karelia, along the Finnish-Soviet border. This was beyond the traditional borders of the Finnish nation. 

Acquiring Karelia would have meant the easy encirclement of Leningrad, (today St. Petersburg). The Soviet administration was worried that a hostile foreign power could capture Leningrad, then the cradle of the Bolshevik revolution.

In 1939, with tensions increasing between Moscow and Berlin, the Kremlin was worried that Finland would be used as a staging post for launching German troops. Leningrad was close to the Finnish border. Moscow was concerned that with Finnish-controlled territory surrounding Leningrad, the latter could easily become encircled.

The 1939-40 Finnish-Soviet war, popularly known as the Winter War, pitted the smaller and militarily weaker Finland against the might of the Soviet Union. This war has its origins in the 1918-22 Karelian adventure; only this time, Helsinki had the strong economic and military backing of Nazi Germany.

The Finns inflicted heavy losses on the Soviet army. However, the Finns eventually lost, and had to cede even more territory than the Kremlin demanded prior to the war’s outbreak.

Helsinki, drawing on the legacy of Sibelius’ Finlandia, likes to portray itself as the underdog. It is true that Finland is dwarfed by its more militarily powerful neighbour to the East. However, even a chihuahua can bite, and it is easy to be an underdog when you have powerful German friends backing you.

There is no doubt that the Finnish ruling circles actively courted and allied themselves with Nazi Germany. This was done not out of anxieties about Moscow’s policies, but a deliberate strategy of building alliances with other aggressive capitalist European states.

Though Mannerheim insisted that Finland was not an ally of Nazi Germany, his government did everything it could to assist the Wehrmacht in its invasion of the USSR. Finland mined the waters in the USSR’s maritime territory, and allowed German forces to be deployed for an eventual attack on Leningrad.

Every war is not a purely defensive reaction to Kremlin conspiracies. Blaming Moscow for all of their problems, and recycling the victimhood narrative, is starting to wear thin. The Winter War, and the 1918-22 attempted annexation of Karelia, were not just defensive reactions, but aggressive manoeuvres intended to expand Finnish territory. Finland did wage an existential struggle for independence; that much is admirable.

I realise that diehard Finnish nationalists will strenuously object to my views, and that is fine. I cannot convince them of my viewpoint, but I think the wider readership will understand my perspective.

Not every military alliance and predatory endeavour can be cloaked in the mantle of national self-determination.

It is not often that a Nobel prize is regifted, and features on the corporate media news cycle. But there are exceptions to this rule. Nobel peace prize winner for 2025, Maria Corina Machado, regifted her prize to US President Donald Trump. A farcical ceremony, Trump the egomaniac craved the recognition of that prize, and Machado the faithful Venezuelan MAGA servant, overinflated his already swollen ego.

Fragile egomaniac that he is, the mango Mussolini in the White House craves legitimacy. International awards are one way of gaining that much desired recognition. Machado’s regifting of the Nobel peace prize is not the first time such an event has occurred. Norwegian Nobel prize for literature winner (1920) Knut Hamsun, regifted his award to Nazi Propaganda Minister Joseph Goebbels in 1943.

An influential novelist, Hamsun’s work inspired generations of writers, including figures such as Hemingway, Maxim Gorky and Stefan Zweig. He was also a Nazi sympathiser, expressing the view that Hitler was a warrior fighting for the survival and dignity of the white Christian civilisation.

In 1920, Hamsun was considered one of the most important writers in the world. By 1945, he was universally reviled. Hamsun, hailed by Isaac Bashevis Singer as originator of modern narrative in the 20th century, became a propagandist for white supremacy and Nazism.

Trump’s undeserved Nobel follows up on another equally farcical and ridiculous award; the manufactured FIFA prize given to Trump by the football chief Gianni Infantino. The ceremony, fawning and disgraceful in equal measure, was actually quite telling. Failing the Nobel prize, the sports body invented an award, providing Trump with a symbolic victory for personal favouritism.

Were there other nominees for this award? What were the criteria for success? None of these questions have been answered. The links between the actions and practices of FIFA and ethical values have been tenuous at best.

When you bestow an award on a person or organisation, you are not only providing the recipient with legitimacy and recognition. You are also stating to the world the kind of behaviour you find acceptable. You are attaching your name and reputation to the behaviour of the recipient, giving them your seal of approval.

December last year was the 135th anniversary of the Wounded Knee Massacre. Nearly 300 unarmed Lakota men, women and children were killed by US soldiers, specifically from the US 7th Cavalry. The indigenous people were surrendering when the massacre occurred. The incident took place in South Dakota.

This particular killing has been a sore point in relations between the US authorities and indigenous communities. Why am I relating this incident? 19 soldiers who partook in this specific massacre were awarded Medals of Honour. 31 troops in all were awarded for their service in the campaign against the Lakota people.

Prior to this incident, the editor of the Saturday Pioneer, a South Dakota newspaper, L. Frank Baum, expressed his opinion that the ‘red Indians’ need to be exterminated to secure the safety and tranquility of the white race. After the Wounded Knee Massacre, Baum wrote in yet another column that of course we have wronged the Indians, but now, let’s finish the job and wipe out this untameable race, for the security of the white civilisation.

You will be familiar with Baum, not for his work as a propagandist for white supremacy and genocidal violence, but for his authorship of the children’s book The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, the basis of the internationally successful 1939 movie.

Baum never fired a gun in anger; he never murdered anyone. Through his regular writings, he made genocidal violence committed against the indigenous people normal, distasteful perhaps, but nevertheless necessary. A propagandist for white supremacy, I sometimes wonder what the difference is between Baum, and the German propagandist Julius Streicher.

There has been a longstanding campaign by military veterans, indigenous advocacy groups and human rights organisations to have the Wounded Knee medals of honour revoked. Pete Hegseth, the current secretary of defence (who likes to think of himself as war secretary), firmly rejected any moves towards revocation.

Hegseth’s decision protects the murderers, and their reputations. He is helping to preserve a lie; that Wounded Knee was a valiant, praiseworthy battle. Revoking the medals of honour will not eliminate racism or solve all the problems of the indigenous communities in one stroke.

It will be a first step towards reconciliation. Expressing remorse for criminal actions reveals the conscience motivating the person. Maintaining those medals of honour for the Wounded Knee Massacre, Hegseth is indicating the type of conduct he finds acceptable.

Did we not prosecute and hang Nazi German civilian and military leaders at the conclusion of the 1945 Nuremberg trials for similar criminal conduct?