Governance

The Senate Education and Employment Legislation Committee has launched an inquiry into governance at Australian higher education providers. 

The Terms of Reference are 

 The adequacy of the powers available to the Tertiary Education Quality and Standards Agency to perform its role in identifying and addressing corporate governance issues at Australian higher education providers, with particular reference to: 

a. The composition of providers' governing bodies and the transparency, accountability and effectiveness of their functions and processes, including in relation to expenditure, risk management and conflicts of interest; 

b. The standard and accuracy of providers' financial reporting, and the effectiveness of financial safeguards and controls; 

c. Providers' compliance with legislative requirements, including compliance with workplace laws and regulations; 

d. The impact of providers' employment practices, executive remuneration, and the use of external consultants, on staff, students and the quality of higher education offered; and 

e. Any related matters. 

The committee will present its report on 4 April 2025, with submissions due by 3 March 2025.

Faith

In R v Struhs [2025] QSC 10 the Supreme Court has found that numerous defendants are guilty of manslaughter of a child as part of the expression of their faith, which included expectations that the child would undergo resurrection. 

The judgment states 

After the Crown opening at the commencement of the trial, I invited all accused to make an opening statement. Only one accused spoke, although he purported to speak on behalf of all. That was Brendan Stevens, the spiritual leader of a small, home-based Church of which each other accused was a member at the time of Elizabeth’s death. He asserted, amongst other things, that the trial was “just a religious persecution”, that the accused did not “have any particular care” amongst themselves how they were judged by the court and that they did not “come to fight the charge”. Despite that, most accused progressively engaged in one way or another with the trial process and, by its conclusion, all 14 accused stood to address the court. Their addresses occupied a whole sitting day on the last day of trial and most accused advanced submissions to the effect that he or she should be acquitted of any wrongdoing. ... 

Until her death, Elizabeth Rose Struhs was a vibrant, happy child with, of course, her whole life ahead of her. She left a lasting impression on many with whom she came into contact on the outside, whether through her schooling or during the treatment and control of a medical condition she was first diagnosed with in 2019 – Type 1 diabetes. It cannot be doubted that she was lovingly cared for in almost every way by her parents, Jason and Kerrie Struhs , or that she was adored by every member of the Church including all other accused. However, due to a singular belief in the healing power of God which, to the minds of her parents and the other members of the Church left no room for recourse to any form of medical care or treatment, she was deprived of the one thing that would most definitely have kept her alive – insulin. Her death was inevitable once the administration of that drug was abandoned and when, encouraged and supported by the other accused, her parents refused to seek any medical assistance in the days and nights which followed until her death. ... 

The Crown case against all accused was premised on the duty owed under the law by Jason and Kerrie Struhs to provide Elizabeth with such medical care and treatment as was necessary for the preservation of her life. Each had been previously dealt with by the courts for failing to do so. Each, the Crown contended, failed to do so again with the inevitable consequence that Elizabeth died. 

[22] All accused, except for Jason Struhs , held to a fervent belief in the healing power of God of the kind already mentioned, that is to say, a belief that left no room for recourse to any form of medical care or treatment. This was a core belief of the Church, and no suggestion was made by the Crown that it was not genuinely held by its members. However, the Crown alleged that, when Jason Struhs joined the Church after 17 years of staunch opposition, he was persuaded by all other accused to adopt, and then act on, that core belief with the consequence that he ceased the administration of insulin to Elizabeth and, further, that they aided him through encouragement and support not to resume insulin or to seek any other form of medical care or treatment for her in the intervening days and nights before she died. 

[23] In the cases against Jason Struhs and Brendan Stevens, the Crown maintained that, not only was each criminally responsible for Elizabeth’s death, but they acted in circumstances where they were recklessly indifferent to human life. This was because, it was alleged, both knew that, by ceasing insulin and shunning any other form of medical intervention, Elizabeth would probably die. Each was accordingly said to be guilty of murder because they acted (or omitted to act) with reckless indifference to Elizabeth’s life. 

[24] The case against Kerrie Struhs for manslaughter was based on her refusal to fulfill the duty owed by her to provide Elizabeth with such medical care and treatment as was necessary for the preservation of her life. 

[25] All other accused were said to be criminally responsible for Elizabeth’s death because, by their words and actions of encouragement and support, they both counselled and aided the unlawful killing of Elizabeth by intentionally encouraging Jason Struhs to cease providing insulin as well as medical care and treatment to Elizabeth, and by intentionally supporting his choice to continue to do so. This, it was said, amounted to manslaughter. ... 

Reference has already been made to the opening statement delivered by Brendan Stevens. He emphasised that all accused were within their “rights to believe in the Word of God completely” and that they had chosen to “follow God”, echoing remarks made by Kerrie Struhs in her closing address to the jury at her trial in 2021. Mr Stevens asserted that the prosecution against all accused was a prosecution for believing in God. 

[27] By the end of the trial, all accused continued to maintain the position that they were entitled to their particular belief in the healing power of God, even if that conflicted with the laws of the world. However, in addition, many accused submitted they played no role in the decision Jason Struhs made to cease the administration of insulin to Elizabeth. Similarly, it was submitted they played no role in Mr Struhs ’ choice not to resume insulin or seek any other form of medical care or treatment. All they had done, it was submitted, was to encourage Mr Struhs to believe in God. To the point, they submitted they had done nothing to persuade, encourage or support Mr Struhs in the decision and choice he made. Any influence in those respects, it was said, must have come from God, and Mr Struhs agreed with that proposition in his closing address. 

1.5 Overview of the Verdicts 

[28] Regardless of whether the other essential elements of the offence of murder were proved by the Crown, unless I was satisfied beyond reasonable doubt that, at some point between the time when the decision was made by Jason Struhs to cease the administration of insulin to Elizabeth (Monday, 3 January 2022) and the time when she died (Friday, 7 January 2022), he knew his failure to provide her with insulin and/or medical care and treatment would probably cause her death, Mr Struhs could not be guilty of murder. In this respect, it must be proved beyond reasonable doubt Mr Struhs knew of the probability, as opposed to the possibility, of death. Nothing less than a full realisation on his part that Elizabeth would probably die as a consequence of his failure to act would be sufficient to establish murder in this way, that is, murder by reckless indifference to her life. 

[29] Whether this element of the offence was proved to the requisite standard depended on an assessment of the subjective state of mind of Mr Struhs , and not on what a reasonable person might or would have foreseen as a probable consequence of his omission. As such, the test is not objective, and it does not matter that a reasonable person in Mr Struhs ’ position would have known Elizabeth would probably die. 

[30] For the reasons set out in Part 7.3, after a consideration of the whole of the evidence admissible against Mr Struhs , there remained a reasonable possibility that, in the cloistered atmosphere of the Church which enveloped Mr Struhs , and which only intensified once he made the decision to cease the administration of insulin, he was so consumed by the particular belief in the healing power of God promoted by its members that he never came to the full realisation Elizabeth would probably die, believing instead that God would not allow that to happen.  

[31] I was therefore not satisfied beyond reasonable doubt of proof of this essential element and, because all elements of the alleged offence must be proved before a guilty verdict may be returned, Mr Struhs must be acquitted of murder. I was, however, satisfied that Jason Struhs was guilty of manslaughter, for the reasons set out in Part 7.3. 

[32] Similar considerations applied in the case against Brendan Stevens for murder. Again, in his case, I could not be satisfied after a consideration of the whole of the evidence admissible against him that Mr Stevens was possessed of the requisite state of mind at any point between the time when the decision was made by Jason Struhs to cease the administration of insulin to Elizabeth and the time when she died. In that regard, proof was required that, at some point over the period under consideration, Mr Stevens knew that Mr Struhs knew that the failure to provide insulin and/or medical care and treatment would probably cause her death. As with Mr Struhs , whether this element of the offence was proved to the requisite standard depended on an assessment of the subjective state of mind of Mr Stevens, and not on what a reasonable person might have known about Mr Struhs ’ state of mind. My reasons for coming to that conclusion are set out in Part 7.4. The Crown not having proved that element of the offence of murder, Mr Stevens must be acquitted of that charge. I was, however, satisfied that Mr Stevens was guilty of manslaughter, again, for the reasons set out in Part 7.4. ... 

[106] Unsurprisingly, the duty owed by a parent to provide any child in his or her care with the necessaries of life is one of long-standing and, although there have been different formulations of the duty over time, the meaning has always been plain. 

[107] To take one case from England which was decided in 1898, The Queen v Senior, the accused was a member of a sect known as the “Peculiar People”. They were opposed on religious grounds to any recourse to medicines or medical treatment, believing that to do so would “indicate a want of faith in the Lord”. The accused’s child, an infant eight or nine months old, died of pneumonia. The accused, although a “good and kind father in all other respects”, refused to arrange assistance in the form of medicine or medical treatment for his child. The child’s life would have been prolonged, and likely saved, if medical assistance had been provided. The accused was convicted in the Central Criminal Court of manslaughter by criminal negligence. His conviction was based on a breach of a duty under the Prevention of Cruelty to Children Act 1894 which made it an offence to wilfully neglect a child in a person’s care in a manner which, relevantly, resulted in injury to health. On a case stated to the Queen’s Bench Division, the conviction was affirmed. In the course of doing so, the court rejected the notion that a conscientious objection on religious grounds could afford a defence and also emphasised that the standard of care required of a parent will vary as access to medical treatment improves. Lord Russell CJ stated:

Neglect is the want of reasonable care – that is, the omission of such steps as a reasonable parent would take, such as are usually taken in the ordinary experience of mankind – that is, in such a case as the present, provided the parent had such means as would enable him to take the necessary steps. I agree with the statement in the summing-up, that the standard of neglect varies as time went on, and that many things might be legitimately looked upon as evidence of neglect in one generation, which would not have been thought so in a preceding generation, and that regard must be had to the habits and thoughts of the time. At the present day, when medical aid is within the reach of the humblest and poorest members of the community, it cannot reasonably be suggested that the omission to provide medical aid for a dying child does not amount to neglect. 

[Counsel] contended that because the prisoner was proved to be an affectionate parent, and was willing to do all things for the benefit of his child, except the one thing which was necessary in the present case, he ought not to be found guilty of the offence of manslaughter, on the ground that he abstained from providing medical aid for his child in consequence of his peculiar views in the matter; but we cannot shut our eyes to the danger which might arise if we were to accede to that argument, for where is the line to be drawn? In the present case the prisoner is shewn to have had an objection to medicine; but other cases might arise, such, for instance, as the case of a child with a broken thigh, where a surgical operation was necessary, which had to be performed with the aid of an anaesthetic; could the father refuse to allow the anaesthetic to be administered? Or take the case of a child that was in danger of suffocation, so that the operation of tracheotomy was necessary in order to save its life, and an anaesthetic was required to be administered.”(Emphasis added).

[108] Grantham J, agreeing with Lord Russell CJ, added:

It may be asked, why should the line be drawn at drugs? A case might arise where it was necessary to apply an instrument where an injury had been suffered. To omit to do that would be wilful neglect. Or take the case of a fever, where quinine was necessary, or ice. Suppose the doctor were to say, ‘I know that if ice is applied the fever will abate’. Could the father refuse to allow the application of ice without being guilty of wilful neglect?” ... 

[642] It will be seen from what has already been covered in this Part that the belief held by the accused in the healing power of God went through quite a rapid revision as the circumstances changed around them. On Sunday, 2 January 2022, Jason Struhs declared Elizabeth had been healed as God had promised. His misinterpretation of her blood glucose results the following morning only served to reinforce his belief, and that of the other members of the Church, in that regard. Then, when Elizabeth fell ill the next day (Tuesday, 4 January 2022), and although there was speculation about the cause (some suggesting she was suffering insulin “withdrawal symptoms” and others maintaining they were witnessing “another little trial” by God), all members of the Church were united in the belief that Elizabeth either had been or would be healed, and that is in fact what they prayed for in the days and nights which followed. Then, when Elizabeth died on the morning of Saturday, 7 January 2022, they could of course no longer maintain a belief that Elizabeth would be healed. Instead, in the 36 hours they had available to them for contemplation, all appeared to pivot to a belief that God had “allowed” Elizabeth to die so that He could raise her from the dead and, in that way, show them a miracle to re-affirm their faith. However, by the end of that period, they came to the view that God must have instead intended for Elizabeth’s death and resurrection to have a much larger audience, and, for that reason, it was necessary to bring her death to the attention of the authorities so that they, too, could bear witness to her resurrection. This would, in turn, bring the miracle of Elizabeth’s death and resurrection to the attention of the World which was, many of them contended, in such a state of faithless degeneration. Ever since, the members of the Church have proclaimed Elizabeth will be raised from the dead in their lifetime. ... 

[683] I approached the assessment of the honesty and reliability of the versions provided by the accused to investigating police – whether in a recorded conversation or interview or in a police witness statement – with a degree of circumspection. There were a couple of reasons for this. 

[684] First, throughout the trial, I encountered several recurring themes in the versions provided by the accused and their closing addresses about significant events in the life of the Church. When asked about these events, several accused related them in a remarkably similar way, almost as though the event had become something of a parable to be revisited and retold as part of their faith as members of the Church. So, for example, the fact Elizabeth emerged from her hospitalisation and treatment in 2019 without some form of permanent disability was held out as the work of God and a miracle. Similarly, the prosecution, conviction and imprisonment of Kerrie Struhs in 2021 was seen as the work of God because it resulted in Jason Struhs joining the Church and being “healed of all his anger”, something that was also recounted as a miracle. Likewise, many accused spoke of Jason Struhs ’ decision to cease the administration of insulin as a “step in faith” and the hope for healing of Elizabeth as a “victory”. The point here is not only that these views were widely held, but they were held and spoken about in the same terms by many of the accused. The result was often a generalised account, easily digested and just as easily recalled. Although what one accused told police was not admissible in evidence against any other accused, this phenomenon of speaking in parables emerged clearly enough from a consideration of evidence admissible against all accused such as the s 93A interview of REK and, it might be added in the case of all accused other than Jason Struhs , the Tripodi evidence. I was therefore careful to ensure as best I could that I was acting on the particular accused’s genuine recall as opposed to something that was merely part of a narrative developed within the Church. 

[685] Second, there was a marked commonality in the justifications sought to be advanced by the accused for their conduct. One common justification was that Elizabeth did not want to be on insulin and they were, in that sense, acting in accordance with her wishes. It scarcely needs to be said that the wishes of an eight-year-old child, whatever they may have truly been, were entirely irrelevant to the proof of the charges before the court. Another was the fiction which was advanced to the effect they had done nothing other than encourage Jason Struhs to believe in God or, to like effect, that Jason Struhs was his own man and decided of his own accord to cease the administration of insulin. Those claims were made by several accused and rose to prominence in many of the closing addresses. The other frequent claim was that they were the subject of a religious persecution, despite the whole case being concerned with the refusal on the part of Jason and Kerrie Struhs to fulfil a duty cast on every person in this State who has the care of a child under the age of 16 years. Again, the point is not that many of the accused advanced the same justifications; it is that those justifications might have come from a jointly arrived position and, as such, may not have had a proper foundation in the evidence admissible against the individual accused under consideration. ... 

When assessing whether Elizabeth’s death was a reasonably foreseeable consequence of the failure to provide insulin and/or medical care and treatment to Elizabeth, I assessed what a reasonable person would have foreseen in the position of Mr Struhs , that is to say, a reasonable person of the same age, experience and knowledge of the same facts or circumstances as Mr Struhs , with ordinary fortitude and strength of mind (excluding attributes of a purely subjective type such as his religious beliefs). 

[766] Otherwise, the proven facts speak for themselves. Mr Struhs ’ failure constituted such an egregious departure from the standard of care a reasonable member of the community would observe in the same circumstances as to amount to a crime against the State that is deserving of punishment. Mr Struhs ’ complete abdication of the duty he owed to his child, viewed objectively, involved grave moral guilt and disregard for human life. It constitutes, at the very minimum, criminal negligence. Lastly, for the reasons previously expressed, Mr Struhs ’ failure was unlawful, no defence having been raised on the evidence. 

[767] Having already found to the required standard that Elizabeth is dead, I was for these reasons also satisfied beyond reasonable doubt that Mr Struhs caused her death in circumstances where: (1) he had a duty to provide medical care and treatment to her necessary for her life; (2) he breached that duty by failing to provide insulin and/or medical care and treatment to her; (3) her death was a reasonably foreseeable consequence of that failure; and (4) his failure was such as to amount to criminal negligence. Lastly, I was satisfied beyond reasonable doubt that Mr Struhs ’ failure to provide Elizabeth with insulin and/or medical care and treatment was unlawful. 

Conclusion [768] Jason Struhs is not guilty of murder but he is guilty of manslaughter.

Mountain

The Explanatory Note for the Te Pire Whakatupua mō Te Kāhui Tupua/Taranaki Maunga Collective Redress Bill in New Zealand - likely to be much misreported - states 

 Te Pire Whakatupua mō Te Kāhui Tupua/Taranaki Maunga Collective Redress Bill (the Bill) gives effect to certain matters contained in Te Ruruku Pūtakerongo/the Taranaki Maunga collective redress deed signed on 1 September 2023 by the Crown and Ngā Iwi o Taranaki, the collective of the 8 iwi of the Taranaki region. The Bill contains provisions relating to redress that require legislation for their implementation. Other aspects of the arrangements are provided for only in the collective redress deed because they do not require legislative authority. The Bill comprises 9 Parts and 5 schedules. The Bill and the deed speak of the iwi of Taranaki and the origins of Taranaki Maunga: Ko Taranaki, ko Pouākai, ko Kaitake, koia te puna i heke mai ai te tangata. Koia ko hō mātou nei okiokinga, ko mātou nei tō rātou okiokitanga. (Taranaki, Pouākai and Kaitake are a reflection, and the source, of our existence, in life and in death.) 

Legal personality 

The concept of legal personality for Te Kāhui Tupua is primarily concerned with giving legal status to the tūpuna maunga of Ngā Iwi o Taranaki within the national park. The land in the national park owned by the Crown is to be vested in the legal personality. The land will also be inalienable (not able to be sold or otherwise disposed of), except in a very narrow set of circumstances. A similar legal personality has been delivered in Treaty settlements in respect of Ngāi Tūhoe (Te Urewera) and the Whanganui River (Te Awa Tupua). In each case, the legal personality requires an entity to act on its behalf. In the case of Te Kāhui Tupua, that is Te Tōpuni Kōkōrangi. The land to be vested in the legal personality will continue to be a national park administered under the National Parks Act 1980 as amended by this Bill. The general principles of the National Parks Act, including free public access, will be protected alongside Ngā Pou Whakatupua (the Maunga values). The collective redress legislation will also repeal the Mount Egmont Vesting Act 1978. The recognition of Te Kāhui Tupua as a legal person aligns closely with Ngā Iwi o Taranaki understanding of the maunga being tūpuna, requiring care and protection now and into the future. 

Te Kāhui Tupua status 

The arrangements provide for a status statement for the legal personality. The status statement expresses the meaning of the legal personality and explains what the legal personality is intended to represent. Similar statutory recognition statements have been included in the Te Awa Tupua (Whanganui River) and Ngāti Rangi (Te Waiū-o-te-Ika arrangements over the Whangaehu River) Treaty settlements. The status statement, alongside Ngā Pou Whakatupua, will have the same effect as a general purpose under section 4(1) of the National Parks Act 1980 and will form the foundation for the ongoing administration and management of the national park. 

The recognition statement provides that the concept of the legal personality extends beyond the national park boundary into the surrounding lands, although with no direct legal effect. This extension aligns with the Ngā Iwi o Taranaki understanding of their tūpuna, which does not stop at the national park boundary. The Bill includes protection of all land within the national park from all commercial mining activities. ... 

Clause by clause analysis 

Clause 1 sets out a dual-language Title for this Bill, providing also that the Act may also be cited either by the te reo Māori Title or by the English Title. Clause 2 provides that the Bill, except for clause 125, comes into force on the day after the date on which it receives Royal assent. Clause 125 comes into force on the latest of the 5 events specified in clause 120(1). 

Part 1 He kupu wāwahi—Historical matters and preliminary provisions 

Clause 3 provides a statement by Ngā Iwi o Taranaki, Te Iho Tāngaengae, as acknowledged by the Crown, of the connection and relationship of Ngā Iwi o Taranaki with their Tūpuna Maunga and Te Kāhui Tupua. Te Pūeatanga ki te Ao Clauses 4 to 6 record in te reo Māori and English the summary of the historical account, the acknowledgements by the Crown, and the apology given by the Crown to Ngā Iwi o Taranaki in Te Ruruku Pūtakerongo, the collective redress deed. Purpose provision Clause 7 states the purpose of the Bill. 

Interpretation provisions 

Clause 8 provides that the Bill is to be interpreted in a manner that best furthers the agreements set out in Te Ruruku Pūtakerongo. Clause 9 defines certain terms used in the Bill and clause 10 defines Ngā Iwi o Taranaki, the group of iwi with whom the agreements have been made that are set out in Te Ruruku Pūtakerongo and this Bill. 

Other matters 

Clauses 11 to 14 provide for the following matters relevant to the interpretation and implementation of the Bill: the Bill when enacted will bind the Crown (clause 11): the provisions of the Bill take effect on the effective date, unless a provision of the Bill states otherwise (clause 12): the Bill overrides the rule under trust law that limits the life of a trust and of any documents that give effect to an agreement (clause 13): the Bill requires the chief executive of the Office for Māori Crown Relations—Te Arawhiti to make copies of Te Ruruku Pūtakerongo available for inspection free of charge, and for purchase at a reasonable price, at the head office of the Office for Māori Crown Relations—Te Arawhiti in Wellington on any working day. Te Ruruku Pūtakerongo must also be made available free of charge on an Internet site maintained by or on behalf of the Office for Māori Crown Relations—Te Arawhiti (clause 14). In clause 15, the Bill sets out the limits to the effect of the Bill and Te Ruruku Pūtakerongo, including that neither the Bill nor Te Ruruku Pūtakerongo, unless expressly provided otherwise,— limits the relationship of Ngā Iwi o Taranaki in respect of Te Kāhui Tupua, including in relation to any extant customary rights; or displaces or diminishes the role of an iwi or a hapū of Ngā Iwi o Taranaki in relation to Te Kāhui Tupua; or applies to the coastal marine area, except as provided in clauses 3, 17, 19, and 52; or limits any existing private property rights, or affects rights or interests in water, wildlife, fish, aquatic life, or plants, or affects the application of any legislation. Clause 16 excludes the jurisdiction of the courts, tribunals and other judicial bodies to inquire or further inquire into, or make finding or recommendations in relation to Te Ruruku Pūtakerongo, the Bill, or the recress provided under either. this does not exclude the jurisdiction in relation to interpreting or implementing the redress provided under those instruments. 

Part 2 Te Kāhui Tupua 

Subpart 1—Te Kāhui Tupua and Ngā Pou Whakatupua Subpart 1 (clauses 17 to 21), recognises the status of Te Kāhui Tupua as a legal person, its rights, powers, and duties being exercised and performed on its behalf and in its name by Te Tōpuni Kōkōrangi. Clause 19 sets out Ngā Pou Whakatupua, the intrinsic values associated with Te Kāhui Tupua. Clauses 20 and 21 provide for the relationship of the Bill and Te Ruruku Pūtakerongo with the National Parks Act 1980, Conservation Act 1987, and Resource Management Act 1991, and for the status of these when persons are acting under conservation of other legislation in rleation to land in Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki or the surrounding land (as defined in clause 17). Subpart 2—Official geographic names Clauses 22 to 26 provide for the official geographic name of the national park in which ngā maunga are situated to change to Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki and the names Mount Egmont and Mount Taranaki to change to Taranaki Maunga. 

Part 3 Te Tōpuni Kōkōrangi 

Subpart 1—Te Tōpuni Kōkōrangi: establishment, purpose, functions, and powers Clauses 27 to 30 establish Te Tōpuni Kōkōrangi as a statutory body, with the purpose of being the human face and voice of Te Kāhui Tupua. These clauses set out the capacity and powers of Te Tōpuni Kōkōrangi for the purpose of achieving its purpose. The essence of its functions (clause 29) is to act and speak for Te Kāhui Tupua, upholding the status, values, and interests of Te Kāhui Tupua. Clauses 31 to 34 set out the requirements for the membership of Te Tōpuni Kōkōrangi and for the decision-making powers of its members. Clauses 35 and 36 deal with where responsibility lies for certain liabilities arising in respect of Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki, and clause 37 establishes, in Schedule 2, further provisions relevant to the establishment and administration of Te Tōpuni Kōkōrangi. Subpart 2—Name of Te Kāhui Tupua protected Clause 38 makes provision for the protection of the name Te Kāhui Tupua, and any intellectual property in the name. Subpart 3—Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki place section in conservation management strategy Clauses 39 and 40 make provision for the conservation management strategy relating to Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki to acknowledge and uphold the status of Te Kāhui Tupua and Ngā Pou Whakatupua (values). 

Part 4 Asset management 

The scheme for asset management (clauses 41 to 51) supports the right of Te Kāhui Tupua to own assets. The Bill requires assets owned by Te Kāhui Tupua to be managed on behalf of Te Kāhui Tupua by an asset management company, which Te Tōpuni Kōkōrangi is empowered to set up under the Companies Act 1993. In the operation of the company, Te Tōpuni Kōkōrangi must act as the representative of the sole shareholder, Te Kāhui Tupua. The constitution will have to meet the requirements of the Companies Act 1993 and the matters itemised in clause 44. Clause 45 provides that Te Tōpuni Kōkōrangi does not need to comply with certain requirements of the Companies Act 1993. Other matters covered include how assets are to be administered, how funding is to be applied, and the reporting and accountability requirements (clauses 46 to 50). Clause 51 sets out the process to be adopted if the asset management company is dissolved under the Companies Act 1993. 

Part 5 Standing, status, and taxation matters applying to certain entities under this Act 

Part 5 covers the standing of Te Tōpuni Kōkōrangi and the trustees of Te Tōpuni Ngārahu as having an interest in Te Kāhui Tupua in relation to matters arising under the Local Government Act 2002 or the Resource Management Act 1991 for purposes such as making submissions or the right to be heard, or in relation to matters arising under Te Ture Whenua Maori Act 1993 or the Charities Act 2005 (clauses 52 to 54). Clause 55 provides for the taxation status of Te Tōpuni Kōkōrangi and any asset management company set up and operating in accordance with this Bill. Clause 56 amends the Income Tax Act 2007 by inserting 4 new sections into that Act. New section CH 11B states that a tax liability arises if Te Tōpuni Kōkōrangi incurs expenditure on behalf of Te Kāhui Tupua for purposes outside the scope and effect of Part 3 of the Bill (unauthorised expenditure). A tax liability arises under new section CH 11C for the asset management company in respect of expenditure outside the purpose of the company (unauthorised expenditure), as provided for in clause 42. New sections CW 40D and CW 40E of the Income Tax Act 2007 provide an income tax exemption for each of the 2 entities, Te Tōpuni Kōkōrangi and the asset management company. The exemption applies to income, except to the extent that the income is applied (referred to as “expenditure” in new sections CH 11B and CH 11C) for, or to, a purpose that is outside the scope of Part 4 (in the case of Te Tōpuni Kōkōrangi) or clause 42 in the case of the asset management company. Expenditure applied for purposes outside those set in Part 4 or clause 42 is to be treated as income in the hands of Te Tōpuni Kōkōrangi or the asset management company respectively. 

Part 6 Land and minerals 

Clause 57outlines the contents of Part 6. Subpart 1—Vesting of land and minerals Vesting of Te Whenua Taketake Clause 58 vests the Crown-owned land in the existing national park (as described in Schedule 1) in Te Kāhui Tupua and declares that land, when vested, to be a national park with the official geographic name Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki. The land is to be held as Te Whenua Taurikura (that is, land held in the name of Te Kāhui Tupua as part of the national park). Clause 59 provides that Te Whenua Taurikura is inalienable, unless provided otherwise in the Bill. 

Vesting of certain minerals 

Clause 60 overrides section 11 of the Crown Minerals Act 1991 to provide that the vesting of Te Whenua Taketake by clause 58 includes Crown-owned taonga tūānuku and industrial rocks and building stones (“certain minerals”) within that land. Clause 61 provides for the registration in the name of Te Kāhui Tupua of the land vested by clause 58, subject to the completion of any necessary survey. The record of title must be created within 24 months of the effective date (40 working days after the Bill comes into force). Subpart 2—Acquiring land for, and adding land to, Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki Land or interests in land acquired for Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki Clauses 62 and 63 set out the process to apply if the Director-General of Conservation is considering adding Crown-owned land to, or acquiring private land or an interest in private land for, Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki. Clause 64 provides for the vesting of Crown-owned land in Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki by Order in Council. Clause 65 provides for the discontinuance of the official geographic names of Crown protected areas whose fee simple estate is vested in Te Kāhui Tupua. Clause 66 enables Te Whenua Tupu (land held in the name of Te Kāhui Tupua but not part of Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki) to be added to Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki by Order in Council and held under the Bill as Te Whenua Taurikura (land held in the name of Te Kāhui Tupua as part of Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki). 

Minerals 

Clause 67 provides for certain Crown-owned minerals that form part of the land vested under clause 64 or added to Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki under clause 66 to be included in that vesting or addition. 

Registration 

Clause 68 provides for the registration of any land to be added to Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki, as described in an Order in Council under clause 64 or 66. Subpart 3—Te Whenua Tupu Clauses 69 to 73 provide for the asset management company to exercise the role of the registered owner of Te Whenua Tupu including, in clauses 71 and 72(2), the company’s role in acquiring or alienating any land within the meaning of Te Whenua Tupu or transferring such land to the Crown or a third party. Subpart 4—Land excluded from Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki Clauses 74 to 77 provide for the exclusion of land from Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki, vesting of that land in the Crown or a third party, and for its registration, including requiring a new record of title. Subpart 5—Provisions applying to certain land and improvements Land or interests in land not added to Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki Clause 78 covers how land or interests in land are acquired for, but not added to, Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki. Clauses 79 to 82 set out the effect on existing interests in, and improvements on or attached to, land that becomes part of Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki under the Bill. Clause 83 preserves the effect of existing bylaws and other statutory requirements applying to Te Whenua Taketake. Those matters apply subject to this Bill and the National Parks Act 1980 on and after the effective date. Clause 84 provides for the instruments documenting interests in land to be registered. Subpart 6—Protections under Crown Minerals Act 1991 Clauses 85 to 89 set up certain protections applying to Te Whenua Taurikura under the Crown Minerals Act 1991. Clause 89 requires joint decision making by Te Tōpuni Kōkōrangi and the Minister of Conservation (the Minister) for decisions on interests in Te Whenua Taurikura that would otherwise be made by the Minister under Part 3B of the Conservation Act 1987 or under the National Parks Act 1980. Subpart 7—Miscellaneous Clauses 90 and 91 deal with the application of certain enactments to Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki and to Te Whenua Taketake. Clause 92 provides that certain statutory memorials are not to be entered on the record of title for Te Whenua Taurikura. 

Part 7 Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki 

Subpart 1—He Kawa Ora mō Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki Clauses 93 to 95declare Te Tōpuni Kōkōrangi responsible for overseeing the preparation and approval of a national park management plan, He Kawa Ora, for Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki. The plan must be consistent with the National Parks Act 1980. Subpart 2—Operational management of Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki This subpart (clauses 96 to 107) sets out the matters relevant to the management of the park, including how the operational management of the park must meet the aspirations of Ngā Iwi o Taranaki for enhancement of the iwi capability to meet their responsibilities as uri of Te Kāhui Tupua. The subpart sets out the responsibility of the Director-General of Conservation to undertake management activities consistently with this Bill, Te Ruruku Pūtakerongo, the National Parks Act 1980, He Kawa Ora, and other relevant legislation or planning documents. The aspirations of Ngā Iwi o Taranaki to participate in the operational management of Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki are also acknowledged, including in relation to the tendering of contracts and the granting of concessions within Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki. Particular requirements are set out in relation to new roads, biological control organisms, the introduction of live aquatic life, and specially protected areas within Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki. Clauses 108 and 109 provide for certain decisions made under the Conservation Act 1987 that, despite provisions in the Bill requiring joint decision making by the Minister and Te Tōpuni Kōkōrangi, are the sole responsibility of the Minister. 

Part 8 Redress to assist Ngā Iwi o Taranaki to reconnect with Tūpuna Maunga 

Subpart 1—Taonga tūturu Clauses 110 to 112 provide for how newly found taonga are to be dealt with for the purposes of the Protected Objects Act 1975. Subpart 2—Cultural materials This subpart (clauses 113 to 119) provides for members of Ngā Iwi o Taranaki to be authorised to take or possess certain cultural materials. It requires the trustees of Te Tōpuni Ngārahu and the Director-General of Conservation to work together to prepare and review a cultural materials plan that regulates the taking and possessing of cultural materials. However, the Crown’s powers, functions, and duties under the Crown Minerals Act 1991 are not restricted by the provisions of the subpart. 

Part 9 Governance and other matters 

Subpart 1—Dissolution of Taranaki Māori Trust Board Clauses 120 to 123 provide for— the Taranaki Māori Trust Board (the Trust Board) to be dissolved on the latest of 5 specified events; and the Taranaki Māori Educational Trust to be dissolved on the same day as the Trust Board is dissolved; and the reporting requirements for the Trust Board; and the matters not affected by the provisions of this subpart. Subpart 2—Repeals and consequential amendments Clause 124 repeals the Mount Egmont Vesting Act 1978 on the day on which the Bill comes into force under clause 2. Clause 125 amends the Maori Trust Boards Act 1955 by providing for the removal of a reference to the Taranaki Māori Trust Board from that Act. Clause 126 provides for the consequential amendment of certain legislation in the manner set out in Schedule 5. 

Schedules 

There are 5 schedules as follows: Schedule 1 records the legal description of Te Whenua Takatake: Schedule 2 sets out provisions relating to the establishment and administration of Te Tōpuni Kōkōrangi: Schedule 3 sets out further requirements for preparing and approving He Kawa Ora for Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki: Schedule 4 deals with how decisions are to be made on applications for concessions and other authorisations relevant to interests in Te Whenua Taurikura: Schedule 5 provides for how certain legislation is to be consequentially amended.

Physiognomy and Emotion

'AI Personality Extraction from Faces: Labor Market Implications' by Marius Guenzel, Shimon Kogan, Marina Niessner and Kelly Shue comments 

Human capital — encompassing cognitive skills and personality traits — is critical for labor market success, yet the personality component remains difficult to measure at scale. Leveraging advances in artificial intelligence and comprehensive LinkedIn data, we extract the Big 5 personality traits from facial images of 96,000 MBA graduates, and demonstrate that this novel "Photo Big 5" predicts school rank, compensation, job seniority, industry choice, job transitions, and career advancement. Using administrative records from top-tier MBA programs, we find that the Photo Big 5 exhibits only modest correlations with cognitive measures like GPA and standardized test scores, yet offers comparable incremental predictive power for labor outcomes. Unlike traditional survey-based personality measures, the Photo Big 5 is readily accessible and potentially less susceptible to manipulation, making it suitable for wide adoption in academic research and hiring processes. However, its use in labor market screening raises ethical concerns regarding statistical discrimination and individual autonomy. ...

The authors go on

In this paper, we depart from using survey-based personality measures, and instead leverage recent advances in artificial intelligence (AI) that enable us to extract personality traits from a single facial image of a person. These advancements, which facilitate the construction of large-scale personality datasets, reflect a broader trend in which AI facial recognition is increasingly adopted across various settings, including matching in dating markets, political affiliation analysis,  and targeted marketing.  

Using new alternative data—photos from LinkedIn and photo directories of several top U.S. MBA programs—we extract the Big 5 personality traits for 96,000 MBA graduates, for whom we also observe detailed employment outcomes and education histories. We then assess the ability of the novel “Photo Big 5” to predict labor market outcomes such as school rank, compensation, and advancement within organizational hierarchies. We find that, while the vast majority of variation in labor outcomes remains unexplained, the Photo Big 5 provides predictive power comparable to a person’s race, attractiveness, and educational background. Moreover, because the Photo Big 5 exhibits weak correlations with traditional cognitive measures—such as grades and test scores—typically used in labor market screening, it delivers high incremental predictive power. For example, the compensation disparity between individuals in the top quintile versus the bottom quintile of ‘desirable’ Photo Big 5 personality traits is larger than the compensation gap observed between Black and White graduates for men, and about 65% of the Black-White compensation gap for women. 

We focus on the Big 5 personality traits because they are the most widely used and extensively studied measures of ‘soft skills’ in finance and economics (e.g., Heckman and Kautz (2012)). The five traits are: Openness (curiosity, aesthetic sensitivity, imagination), Conscientiousness (organization, productiveness, responsibility), Extraversion (sociability, assertiveness, energy level), Agreeableness (compassion, respectfulness, trust), and Neuroti- cism (anxiety, depression, emotional volatility). We study the labor market for MBA grad- uates, as survey and task-based measures of personality are already heavily used as part of hiring and job screening in the MBA labor market. The focus on MBAs also allows us to examine a high-skill population for which we can compare the predictive power of the Photo Big 5 against cognitive measures such as school rank, GPA, and standardized test scores. 

The face-based personality extraction draws upon a robust body of scientific research in genetics, psychology, and behavioral science that has empirically established three primary, non-exclusive channels linking facial features and personality. First, an individual’s genetic profile significantly influences both their facial features and personality. Certain variations in DNA correlate with specific facial features, such as nose shape, jawline, and overall facial symmetry, defined broadly as craniofacial characteristics (Claes et al., 2014). Related evidence indicates that 30%-60% of the variance in Big 5 personality traits across individuals is attributable to genetic factors (Vukasovi´c and Bratko, 2015). Further, a growing body of literature has used large-scale genome-wide association studies (GWAS) to investigate the genetic underpinnings of personality traits (e.g., De Moor et al. (2012), Lo et al. (2017), Nagel et al. (2018)), finding that individual genetic variants collectively contribute to the heritability of personality traits and identifying specific genes linked to cognitive performance and personality traits. 

Second, a person’s pre- and post-natal environment, especially hormone exposure, has been shown to affect both facial characteristics and personality. Verdonck et al. (1999) and Whitehouse et al. (2015) study the link between post- and pre-natal testosterone exposure and facial structure. Cohen-Bendahan et al. (2005) focus on prenatal hormone exposure and personality traits such as aggression, empathy, and social interest. Szyf et al. (2007) investigate the postnatal effects of the environment on gene expression (i.e., epigenetics) and behavior. 

Finally, perceptions of one’s facial features, whether by oneself or others, can influence and be influenced by personality traits (e.g., the “Quasimodo Complex” as described in Masters and Greaves (1967)). For example, Umberson and Hughes (1987) show that others’ assessments of attractiveness correlate with achievement and psychological well-being. Other studies show that others’ perceptions of personality traits influence behavior such as friendliness and sociability (Snyder et al., 1977). Moreover, Zebrowitz and Montepare (2008) show that “babyfaced” individuals are stereotyped as more naive, warm, and submissive, often leading them to adopt more agreeable behaviors. In this project, we focus on evaluating the predictive potential of the facial-image-based Big 5 assessment, leaving the inquiry into the precise mechanisms underpinning the link between facial features and personality traits to other researchers.

'Stressing the ‘body electric’: History and psychology of the techno-ecologies of work stress' by Jessica Pykett and Mark Paterson in (2022) 35(5) History of the Human Sciences comments 

This article explores histories of the science of stress and its measurement from the mid 19th century, and brings these into dialogue with critical sociological analysis of emerging responses to work stress in policy and practice. In particular, it shows how the contemporary development of biomedical and consumer devices for stress self-monitoring is based on selectively rediscovering the biological determinants and biomarkers of stress, human functioning in terms of evolutionary ecology, and the physical health impacts of stress. It considers how the placement of the individual body and its environment within particular spatio-temporal configurations renders it subject to experimental investigation through standardized apparatus, electricity, and statistical normalization. Examining key themes and processes such as homeostasis, metricization, datafication, and emotional governance, we conclude that the figure of the ‘body electric’ plays a central limiting role in current technology-supported approaches to managing work stress, and that an historical account can usefully open these to collective scrutiny. ... 

Stress is increasingly a global problem that affects both mental and physical health outcomes. Globally, work stress is thought to be a key contributor to the rise in mental health problems such as anxiety and depression. The World Health Organization recognizes stress as a growing problem in developing countries, and the next International Classification of Diseases (ICD-11), to be published in January 2022, defines the phenomenon of chronic workplace stress as ‘burnout’ (World Health Organization, 2019). Nationally, governments are increasingly concerned about the links between work stress, absenteeism, and presenteeism, including the impact on economic productivity. In the United States alone, stress costs enterprises $300 billion, or 2.6% of GDP in 2006 (Brun, 2007). Strategic responses across government and the private sector variously involve risk assessment and organizational procedures (Health and Safety Executive, 2019), and guidance on the overuse of digital technologies. Many workplace well-being initiatives offer advice on work–life balance, and a conviction to reconnect people (with their bodies, minds, nature, or each other) through such individual activities as mindfulness, yoga sessions, and opportunities for exercise. As we will argue, such initiatives portray a set of assumptions in the public sphere around selectively rediscovering the biological determinants and biomarkers of stress; human functioning in terms of evolutionary ecology; and the physical health impacts of stress. Rather than offer historical accounts and reports of stress or the phenomenon of burnout as such (see Hoffarth, 2017; Jackson, 2013), then, our emphasis is on how individualized, physiological, and evolutionary accounts of stress have recently become mediated through technological formations that represent embodied stress as an aggregation of externalized data points. We will explore how these manoeuvres can serve to hollow out collective claims to being well in the contemporary workplace. 

A key feature of emerging responses to work stress is the development of biomedical and consumer devices for self-monitoring. These involve combinations of novel software and wearable sensor hardware to measure electrodermal activity, heart rate variability, or to assess electrochemical or volatile organic biomarkers for emotional stress found in sweat (e.g. Zamkah et al., 2020). An article in Nature heralds the development of ‘epidermal electronics’ as the inevitable next step: ‘wireless sensors mounted directly on the skin, where they can pick up a host of vital signs, including temperature, pulse and breathing rate’ (Gibney, 2015: 27). Therapies including eMental health apps and transcranial magnetic stimulation have variously been posited as the future of medical treatments to address national ‘epidemics’ of stress (Kim et al., 2016; Phillips, Gordeev, and Schreyögg, 2019). Less well known is the development of ‘electroceuticals’, treatments based on electromagnetic fields (Famm et al., 2013). The American Institute of Stress (n.d.) believes that electroceuticals signify the future of medicine. As we discuss below, this apparently futuristic approach is entirely in keeping with the historical fascination with the medical applications of electricity (e.g. Morus, 1999; Parisi, 2018; Peña, 2005) and the use of electricity to induce and also to gauge stress within physiological experimentation. 

This article considers the development of an historical consensus on the science of stress and its measurement from the mid 19th century onwards. It is a consensus that placed the individual body and its environment within a particular spatio-temporal configuration, making it subject to experimental investigation through standardized apparatus, electricity, and statistical normalization. We argue that these historically emergent spatio-temporalities of stress within and across bodies have shaped contemporary approaches to stress. By using Foucault’s (2003) descriptions of the social apparatus of anatomo-politics and biopolitics, we show how the history of stress research is also one of emotional management, normative ideals, and subjectivity formation. We demonstrate how an imaginary of the ‘body electric’ persists as a central figure in the knowledge, epistemologies, and methodologies of stress research and workplace well-being initiatives. The historical trajectory encompasses techniques and technologies that emerged from early experiments with electrical stimulation of nerves in the late 18th century, and the psychophysics of emotions and sensation in the late 19th century. This is followed by the identification of physiological mechanisms of homeostasis and adaptation to external stimuli in the mid 20th century, right up to the contemporary use of wearable digital biosensors. These diverse strands converge by means of distinct yet related processes of metricization and then datafication. Hence a key tension in the stress management practices of the contemporary workplace is a result of novel spatio-temporalities of data standardization, ownership, and analysis. The aggregation of biophysical data is no longer contained solely within the physical hardware of the wearer's device, but shared globally through proprietary cloud-based software platforms, with potentially negative implications for the possibility of collective organization at work. We explore how such wearable technologies have suddenly become adopted into the therapeutic regimens of workplace stress. By doing so, we foreground the conceptual development of what has become a subfield of biology, the physiology and neurophysiology of stress. We explore how this subfield can be complemented by more interdisciplinary insights to suggest how researchers, organizations, and governments might deal with this contemporary occupational health crisis. 

Since working conditions (relations of power, labour, and capital) are central to understanding work stress, it is somewhat surprising that some research developments in the treatment of work stress are often concerned with individual biological aetiology (Polacchini et al., 2018; Ryff, Singer, and Dienberg Love, 2004; Sumner et al., 2020). The core aim of this article is to explore how this rift between individual aetiology and work conditions has come to pass, and to consider how the emphasis on self-management might be impacting workers’ collective capacity to monitor and address their workplace stress. We outline the historical specificity of the way in which wearable digital technologies – which sense, measure, compute, and visualize physiological phenomena – transform the body into data that is then algorithmically correlated with particular psychological states. This mechanism encourages users to ‘capture’ and categorize certain psychological traits or habits of thought and ‘improve’ their responses to specific triggers or environments through biofeedback, that is, biological data presented to them. This is often via obscure techniques of analysis and proprietary software channels – in order to elicit emotional self-management. We argue these technologies reconfigure mind–body–environment relations leading to the emergence of a specific spatio-temporality of stress. Temporally, stress is conceived as an immediate psychophysiological ‘flight or fight’ response. Spatially, this response relates to proximate stimuli within an individual's perceptual environment. We find that understanding of contemporary articulations of ‘techno-ecologies’ of stress can be illuminated through the historical excavation of the ‘body electric’, and can be understood through a framework that combines historical and sociological analysis. It is by no means inevitable that the workplace technologies outlined here should prioritize emotional self-management at the apparent expense of workers’ capacities for collective organizing. Yet, as we argue, the ways that data from such technologies is processed, visualized, shared, and stored provides grounds for cautioning against the particular form of emotional governance enabled by these processes. 

The article consists of three substantial sections, each of which maps onto models or frameworks for defining and interpreting stress, namely the organismic, the psychological, and the ecological. We begin with ‘Defining stress’, a review of the origins of scientific definitions of stress within early 20th-century physiology and psychology, which takes the organism and its interior and exterior milieu as the main unit of analysis, prior to the employment of stress in relation to the workplace and technology. The following section, ‘Metricization and bodily sensation’, then outlines the processes of metricization achieved through scientific instrumentation to constitute the figure of the body electric, the productive worker's body as monitored and measured. This places the measurement and modelling of stress and its effects more firmly into the realm of psychology, and especially the emerging field of industrial psychology. In the third section, ‘Datafication and the biopolitics of machinic emotions’, we consider the legacy of this process by showing how specific workplace ecologies of digital wearable technologies render the ‘body electric’ visible and sharable through data, framing it as the biopolitical target-object of emotional governance. Emotional governance can refer to social practices of regulation, management, government and policymaking, service design, or state-citizen relationships, which see emotions as central to their conception and operation (Jupp, Pykett, and Smith, 2017). We argue that platforms for obtaining and sharing data captured by wearable biosensors constitute an ecology of data and devices, and a corresponding ecological approach to stress and stressors. We thereby show how deepening the understanding of the convergent role of scientific instrumentation and digital technologies in the historical and contemporary conceptualization of work stress advances this agenda by considering the processes by which the body electric shapes the discourses and regulatory practices of emotional governance. Finally, in the conclusion we draw out the significance of this account for evaluating digital workplace well-being interventions.

Export Controls

'US Export Controls and the Restructuring of Global Values Chains: An analysis of Japanese multinationals'exits from China' by I Deseatnicov and F Kyoji comments 

The increased export controls on advanced technologies like semiconductors imposed by the U.S. and aligned countries targeting primarily China are accelerating technological decoupling. What are consequences of this process on global value chains (GVCs) dominated by the activities of multinational enterprises (MNEs)? To answer this question, we use Japanese microdata for the period 2017–2021. We find an increase in the exit of Japanese MNEs from China. Building on this observation, we hypothesize that this increase in exits may have been triggered by an increase in production costs brought about by a decline in the variety of imported intermediate inputs as a direct consequence of the increased export controls. We offer a simple theoretical framework to rationalize this mechanism, which guided us in creating an export controls index using a detailed review of U.S. Federal Register documents and input-output tables. Our empirical analysis of the probability of exit confirms that the reduction in imported intermediate inputs plays an important role in the behavior of Japanese MNEs.

ERT

'Training Humans to Detect Children's Lies Through their Facial Expressions' by Alison O'Connor, Kaila Bruer, Jennifer Gongola, Thomas D Lyon and Angela D Evans in Applied Cognitive Psychology (in press) comments 

 The accurate detection of children’s truthful and dishonest reports is essential as children can serve as important providers of information. Research using automated facial coding and machine learning found that children who were asked to lie about an event were more likely to look surprised when hearing the first question during an interview about said event. The present studies explored if humans can be trained to look for surprised expressions to detect children’s deception. Participants made lie-detection judgments after seeing children’s expressions in very brief clips. In Study 1, we compared performance across a training condition and control condition, and in Study 2 we modified the training. With training, adults could detect children’s lies at above chance levels by viewing their facial expression. Detection accuracy was further improved with modified training (Study 2), but participants held a consistent lie bias. Challenges with using facial expressions to detect deceit are discussed.

Governance

The Tasmanian Legislative Council Select Committee final report on provisions of the University of Tasmania Act 1992 (Tas) touches - gingerly - on systemic problems in institutional governance that are evident in other Australian universities. 

The Committee made an overarching recommendation -

 As a priority, the Government conduct a comprehensive review of the University of Tasmania Act 1992, including matters specified in recommendations in this report, and promptly legislate the results of that review. 

It goes on to make 19 recommendations: 

 1. The Act be amended to include a preamble. 

2. The Act be amended to provide for casual staff to be included in the constitution of the University. 

3. Section 6 of the Act be reviewed and amended to ensure contemporary and appropriate functions are included. 

4. Consider a mechanism to assess the performance of the University against the functions in Section 6 of the Act. 

5. The Act be amended to establish restrictions or prohibitions on the disposal or long-term lease of land that has been granted to the University by the Crown, land purchased with public money, or Crown land. 

6. The Act be amended to provide for the constitution of the University Council to include a minimum of two student members, with at least one elected from the student body. 

7. The Act be amended to provide for the constitution of the University Council to include a minimum of two members of the academic staff elected by the academic staff. 

8. The Act be amended to provide for the constitution of the University Council to include a minimum of two members of the professional staff elected by the professional staff. 

9. The Act be amended to ensure there is more balance between the number of appointed and elected members on the University Council. 

10. The Act be amended to clarify the purpose and function of Ministerial appointments to the University Council. 

11. The Act be amended to ensure when considering the best interests of the University, University Council must explicitly include consideration of the University’s obligations to the Tasmanian community. 

12. The Act be amended to prescribe key requirements for the constitution and method of appointment of the Academic Senate, to ensure a higher proportion of academic representatives rather than managerial appointments and fewer ex officio appointments. 

13. The Act be amended to prescribe the functions of the Academic Senate to include a determinative role on core academic matters. 

14. Amend the Act in relation to annual reporting by the University, including: a. more specific detail on what the Annual Report is required to contain in relation to income and expenditure; b. a requirement to report on the delivery of the functions of the University; c. a requirement to include detail of all salaries, remuneration and fringe benefits for executive management roles at the University; and d. a requirement for more timely tabling of the University’s annual report in Parliament. 

15. In addition to the Annual Report, include a requirement in the Act for the University to produce: a. an annual corporate plan to be published at the beginning of the year; and b. an annual Environment, Society and Governance (ESG) report. 

16. Review Section 7(2) of the Act to retain Treasurer’s approval for University borrowings and ensure it reflects contemporary borrowing and borrowing-like arrangements. 

17. Consider formalising processes for regular Parliamentary scrutiny of the University, including: a. The Annual Report b. The annual corporate plan c. Major infrastructure projects 

18. The Act be amended to include a requirement to protect and promote academic freedom. 

19. The Joint Standing Committee on Integrity consider an inquiry into the performance of the Integrity Commission and the Ombudsman in relation to complaints regarding the University of Tasmania.

The recommendations reflect a range of findings -

 1. The original University of Tasmania Act 1889 contained a preamble which was removed in 1951. 

2. There is broad support for reinstating a preamble in the Act. 

3. The Dawkins reforms of the 1980s, and various reforms since, have resulted in significant changes to funding models, leading to corporatisation of the Australian higher education system. 

4. With increased corporatisation, it is important universities achieve an appropriate balance between being a public institution and generating funds. There is a need for greater independent scrutiny, transparency and accountability to ensure this balance is being achieved. 

5. Concern was expressed that the University appears to prioritise commercial over community interests in its core functions, with a significant focus on corporatisation, which undermines the University’s core role and identity.  

6. The University considers the current Act constitutes its membership as the active, living, collegial community engaged in the University's tasks of learning, teaching and research. The University is to serve and be accountable to these members. 

7. Section 3 of the Act does not include casual staff in the definition of academic and professional staff, therefore in Section 5 of the Act causal staff are not included in the constitution of the University. 

8. Witnesses pointed to inconsistencies between membership of the University and representation on the University Council. 

9. The Committee received evidence of a perception the University has deviated from its core functions of education and research specified in Section 6 of the Act, and has shifted to a more commercial focus. 

10. The University does not consider commercial activity should be prescribed as a function of the University in the Act. 

11. The University recognises the physical, educational and financial barriers that impact access to higher education in Tasmania and outlined a number of measures to assist in overcoming these barriers, with regard to principles of merit and equity. 

12. There is an opportunity to review Section 6 of the Act to ensure the functions of the University as prescribed are contemporary and appropriate, and provide a basis for accountability of governance and decision-making. 

13. Calls were made for regular independent review of the University to provide greater accountability in relation to delivering on the functions in the Act. 

14. There is a perception that the exercise of the powers outlined in Section 7 are not required to be accountable to the functions prescribed in Section 6. 

15. There is a perception that there is not an explicit relationship between the exercise of the powers outlined in Section 7 to the functions prescribed in Section 6. 

16. Section 7(1) provides for the University to exercise its powers “both in Tasmania and elsewhere, all things necessary or convenient to be done for or in connection with the performance of its functions.” 

17. The powers prescribed in Section 7 of the Act are comparable to those provided for in the acts of other universities. 

18. When the 1992 Act was passed by Parliament, the Hansard does not include any discussion of the intent or purpose of removing restrictions on the disposal of the land vested to the University in Sandy Bay (as specified in Schedule 3 of the Act). 

19. In removing restrictions on the disposal of vested land in the 1992 Act, it is not clear whether the wholesale disposal of the Sandy Bay campus was contemplated. 

20. Evidence provided to the Committee raised concerns about the absence of restrictions in the Act on the power of the University to dispose of the vested land in Sandy Bay. 

21. The University regards the powers under the Act are appropriate and necessary in order to manage the financial position of the University and deliver its functions in a challenging funding environment. 

22. Australian public universities operate on land that has been granted to them by the Crown, land purchased with public money, or Crown land. All the public universities in the Australian States – except for the University of Tasmania – are subject to legislative restrictions or prohibitions on the selling or dealing with land. 

23. Since the University was established in 1889, there have been several changes to the governance structures prescribed in the Act. 

24. The Act was reformed in 2001, reducing the membership of the University Council from 24 to 17, as a response to the Federal Government’s drive to reform governance of Australian universities. 

25. The Act was further reformed in 2004 aligning membership appointments with the national governance protocols, reducing the size of the University Council to operate with a minimum operating level of 10 members and maximum of 14. 

26. The Act exists as part of a complex framework and legislation that regulates public universities in Australia, including the TEQSA act and its subordinate legislation. 

27. Witnesses identified there was a need for balance between managerial leadership and academic leadership in the dual governance model employed by modern universities. 

28. Witnesses expressed a view that values of managerialism can be inconsistent with the values of academic decision-making. 

29. In response to national reforms and consistent with national trends, the Act has been amended in 2001, 2004 and 2012, decreasing the size and changing the composition of the University Council. The number of members on Council is consistent with other Australian universities, albeit at the lower end of the range. 

30. By national standards, the proportion of elected staff and student positions on University Council is low compared to other Australian universities and concerns were raised that this decrease has resulted in reduced democratic representation on University Council. 

31. There are contested views on the Act’s current requirements regarding the constitution of the University Council. 

32. Concerns were expressed regarding the lack of academic staff and professional staff representation on University Council and witnesses called for an increase in the number of these positions. 

33. University governing bodies across the sector typically have two student members, with at least one elected by the student body. 

34. Under previous iterations of the Act, the student member on the University Council was elected by the student body, via a process designed by the Tasmanian University Union. 

35. While previously an elected position, currently the Act prescribes that the University Council appoints a student member to Council after consultation with relevant student associations. It is unclear whether the Act requires University Council to consult those associations on reappointment of student members. 

36. Under Section 8 of the Act, the number of members appointed to the University Council may be up to four times the number of members elected to the Council. 

37. Concerns were raised that the high proportion of members appointed to the University Council has resulted the development of a self-perpetuating culture, a lack of vigorous debate or dissenting views, and a tendency for ‘group think’ in Council decision-making. 

38. While the Act prescribes two Council members are appointed by the Minister, there is no requirement for, or practice of, those members maintaining a relationship with, or providing reports to the Minister. 

39. The Act prescribes the Minister appoints two Council members, however provides no guidance or requirements regarding the purpose or function of those appointments, as distinct from positions appointed through other means under the Act. 

40. When recruiting for vacant positions, the University Council uses a skills and attributes matrix to identify the expertise required to ensure an appropriate and ongoing balance of skills among members of Council. Recruitment for vacant Council positions is then publicly advertised. 

41. Historically, the University Council included a position for two members of Parliament, however these positions were removed when the Act was amended in 2001. No dedicated positions for members of Parliament are prescribed under legislation for any Australian university council. 

42. Concerns were raised regarding the level of accountability of University Council under the Act, in particular the lack of accountability to the wider community which constitutes the University or the broader Tasmanian community it serves. 

43. Evidence suggested there is potential for conflict under the Act between the University Council’s consideration of ‘the best interest of the university’ and the overarching function of the University to ‘promote the social, cultural and economic welfare of the community and make available for those purposes the resources of the university’. It is unclear how such a conflict should be resolved. 

44. The Act prescribes the overarching function of the Academic Senate to advise the University Council on all academic matters relating to the university, while the constitution, functions, powers and proceedings are specified in Ordinance. 

45. The University considers Academic Senate membership is best prescribed by ordinance rather than by the Act, as it allows for the necessary flexibility in membership, function and proceedings. 

46. Concerns were raised regarding the membership of the Academic Senate, including: a) b) c) a significant number of ex officio appointments; a majority of members are in upper-level management roles; elected members are a minority; and d) a small proportion of members being senior academic staff actively engaged in significant teaching and research. 

47. Concerns were expressed the Academic Senate is not constituted in a way which allows members to give frank and fearless advice, with a perception that the Senate is under the control of the executive management due to the top-down managerial structure and direct reporting lines. 

48. Concerns were expressed that Academic Senate membership does not adequately represent the views of staff and students, and that academic decision-making is being undertaken by those with managerial rather than academic roles. 

49. Concerns were expressed that the Academic Senate lacks genuine decision-making power, and instead performs a ‘rubber stamp’ function. 

50. The Chair of the Academic Senate acknowledged evidence received by this Inquiry and outlined changes made to the operations of the Senate in response, including: a) b) management now seeks exploratory feedback on new policies or initiatives; the establishment of a new monitoring and assurance committee (5 academic staff representatives and 1 student representative) to increase input from academic staff who are not currently in management roles; and c) recognition that student voice needs to be included in academic governance. 

51. The Act does not include any requirements to ensure accountability of executive decision- making. 

52. Concerns were expressed regarding inadequate consultation with staff and students in executive decision-making processes, resulting in a detrimental impact on staff and student experience and outcomes. 

53. The University has a Guide to Decision Making, however there does not appear to be a formal policy requiring consultation, nor does the Act contain a requirement for consultation in decision-making. 

54. Under the Commonwealth Funding model, the University must generate independent sources of revenue and funding in order to deliver core activities. 

55. Compared to other Australian universities, remuneration for the University Vice- Chancellor is above the median, however remuneration for academic and professional staff is at the lower end of the range. 

56. While it is not necessarily appropriate to legislate to limit or direct the remuneration of executive management at the University, greater scrutiny and accountability for these decisions is desirable. 

57. The Act’s requirement that the Annual Report contain ‘a full account of the income and expenditure of the University for the financial year to which it relates’ (Section 12(2)), does not ensure an appropriate and accountable level of detail in the report. 

58. As the Act allows 6 months after the end of the financial year for the Annual Report to be provided to the Governor, and 10 sitting days beyond that for the Minister to table it in Parliament, Annual Reports have commonly been tabled up to 8 months after the end of the financial year. 

59. In addition to the Annual Report, a corporate plan published at the beginning of the year would provide a further mechanism for transparency and accountability. 

60. The University has indicated a willingness to consider opportunities for more detailed and transparent financial reporting. 

61. The University has indicated a willingness to produce an Environment, Society and Governance (ESG) Report to provide accountability for key non-financial obligations. 

62. The Act prescribes a role for the University that directly references the broader Tasmanian community (Section 6(g)), however there is no requirement for accountability to the community in the delivery of that role. 

63. The Civic Universities Movement is a response by universities internationally to develop more explicit partnerships with their communities to address recognised challenges. 

64. While the Act requires Treasurer’s approval for University borrowings, the University has other borrowing-like arrangements that are not captured by this requirement. 

65. There is a lack of clarity on the relationship between the University and the State’s respective financial positions. 

66. The University has been established under statute, therefore it should be accountable to the Tasmanian public through the Parliament. 

67. The relationship between the University and State Parliament has changed over time, with fewer formal connections and a lack of active scrutiny. 

68. The reduction in connection over time between the University and the State Parliament has led to missed opportunities to identify and proactively address issues as they have arisen. 

69. While some Australian states have a Minister for Higher Education, the Tasmanian government does not include this as an explicit portfolio responsibility. 

70. While the University is a publicly-funded institution, there is no external scrutiny processes of its major infrastructure expenditure. 

71. The University considers academic freedom to be a fundamental value of a university, and that it is protected by its academic freedom and free speech policy. 

72. The University of Tasmania Act 1992 does not specifically include reference to academic freedom, independence and autonomy, which is consistent with legislation establishing many other Australian universities. 

73. Academic freedom is supported under the Tertiary Education Quality and Standards Agency and legislation such as the Higher Education Support Act 2003. 

74. The protection of academic freedom in policy does not provide the same level of protection as an enforceable requirement in legislation. 

75. There are conflicting views on whether it is necessary to protect academic freedom through inclusion in the University of Tasmania Act 1992. 

76. It was reported that managerial bullying and workplace culture issues have led to reluctance within the university workforce to speak out or criticise management for fear of reprisal. 

77. Casualisation of the University workforce and associated lack of job security has contributed to a reluctance to speak out or criticise management. 

78. The use of gagging clauses (including non- disclosure agreements and non-disparagement clauses) functions to reduce public criticism of the University by former staff. 

79. The University’s complaint management mechanism, the Safe and Fair Communities Unit, is not considered by some staff and students to be a reliable, safe or independent means to seek redress for managerial bullying. 

80. Currently, in relation to the University of Tasmania, the Tasmanian Ombudsman has a statutory role for administrative complaints and the Tasmanian Integrity Commission has a statutory role for misconduct complaints.  

81. There is a lack of confidence in the internal University and external statutory complaint handling and dispute resolution processes. 

82. The University needs to be mindful of its performance and ranking in order to continue to attract domestic and international students, and maintain the quality and rigour of its academic staff and research outputs. 

83. It is challenging for a relatively small, state-wide university located across multiple regional and capital city campuses to maximise student access while also maintaining teaching and research of a high quality. 

84. A regional presence is important to encourage student access to higher education, as well as providing the opportunity for the University to respond more effectively to skills needs state-wide. 

85. There is an apparent reduction in the degree to which the University values its art, cultural, heritage and scientific collections, and a reduction in the provision of public lectures, music and theatre performances. 

86. The Alumni Advisory Committee was inactive from 2017 to 2023, and there appears to have been no similarly structured mechanism for engagement of alumni and advice to the University. 

87. A lack of opportunity for Alumni to be engaged and involved in the University risks diminishing support for the University, including financial contributions such as donations and bequests. 

88. In 2018, the independently incorporated University Foundation was dissolved and the University Foundation Committee of the Council was established. Concerns were raised that this would result in a lack of transparency in relation to bequests and philanthropic ddonations