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Australia's lawsuit over rare minerals is a geopolitical litmus test

Australia's lawsuit over rare minerals is a geopolitical litmus test

In a move that would have been unthinkable a decade ago, Treasurer Jim Chalmers has launched a Federal Court lawsuit to force Chinese-linked entities to divest from a key rare earth miner. This isn't just a legal dispute; it's a test of whether Australia is willing to enforce its sovereignty in the face of economic intimidation and strategic competition.
The test is one of enforcing set red lines or, in Seinfeld parlance, not just knowing how to make a reservation but knowing how to hold a reservation. That's why, if we're serious about holding onto the strategic advantages of our critical minerals sector and not just making short-term profits, this is a moment for resolve.
At the heart of the matter is Northern Minerals, an Australian company developing the Browns Range heavy rare earths project in WA. It is an operation that could become one of the first non-Chinese sources of the critical minerals essential for advanced military systems, clean energy technologies and high-end electronics.
Despite a clear directive from Chalmers last year for five Chinese-linked entities to divest their stakes in Northern Minerals, at least one, Indian Ocean International Shipping and Service Company Ltd, allegedly failed to comply.
Now, in a move that's both unprecedented and essential, the Commonwealth is suing. Yes, we are dealing with companies but there really is no such thing as the Chinese private sector. As much as the Australian government will rightly make the case for this being about a commercial matter, this is all about the threat from the Chinese government and its objective of controlling critical minerals not just as economic leverage but as a strategic weapon.
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It's deeply concerning that foreign investors have openly defied a directive from the Australian government. That would never be tolerated by Beijing. In China, foreign companies must abide by a highly restrictive, state-controlled investment environment or risk being expelled immediately. Yet in Australia, even after years of intensifying economic coercion and evidence of strategic interference, certain state-linked actors have come to believe that our foreign investment laws are optional or that the fear of retaliatory action by Beijing would result in Australian inaction.
To the credit of the government, this lawsuit challenges that dangerous assumption head-on. Chalmers' statement was unequivocal: 'Foreign investors in Australia are required to follow Australian law.'
What is at stake isn't just legal precedent – it's Australia's ability to protect the integrity of its critical minerals sector. These minerals – such as dysprosium, terbium and neodymium – are the foundational inputs for technologies ranging from F-35 fighter jets and hypersonic missiles to electric vehicles and offshore wind turbines.

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‘People think I'm a way better bloke than I am': Why this comedian is trashing his do-good image
‘People think I'm a way better bloke than I am': Why this comedian is trashing his do-good image

The Age

time18 minutes ago

  • The Age

‘People think I'm a way better bloke than I am': Why this comedian is trashing his do-good image

It was the night of the US election, and Luke Kidgell was working at a venue in Los Angeles. An Aussie abroad, watching history unfold. The residents of the predominantly blue Californian state were anxiously awaiting the results, though many of those Kidgell had spoken to before had resigned themselves to an incoming Republican president. At the venue, the emcee hopped on the mic every 30 minutes, updating the audience with the latest vote count, slowly but surely confirming their worst fears. Tough gig for the guy on stage trying to make everyone laugh. As we sit down to lunch, Kidgell tells me that some crowds are inevitably better than others, though a bunch of progressives staring down four more years of Donald Trump wasn't his toughest audience. That, he says, was when he opened for Steve-O, a prankster from the dangerously disgusting 2000s-era show Jackass. Steve-O became famous for stunts such as sticking a hook through his cheek and throwing himself into the ocean as 'shark bait'. It was safe to say his audience came to the gig expecting some hardcore content. 'They didn't want the jokes,' Kidgell says with a laugh. 'It was just a bunch of neckbeards in heavy metal T-shirts waiting for Steve-O. Like, 'Why is this little boy on stage?'' Difficult shows are bound to happen when you relentlessly tour the world for four years – the trick is to dwell for no more than 24 hours before getting over it, Kidgell says. He is one of a handful of Australian comedians who can regularly sell out shows from Europe to America, at famed venues such as LA's Laugh Factory and Indigo at London's O2 Arena. If you haven't heard of him, you're probably not on TikTok, where he has amassed millions of followers and posts clips of improvised interactions with crowds. Those international gigs are a long way from Melbourne's north-eastern suburbs, where Kidgell grew up. He still lives nearby, and he chose this, his local pub, for our lunch because in his mind 'it would be funny' but also 'extremely convenient'. We arrive at the Diamond Creek Hotel, affectionately known as the Diamo pub, and take in the atmosphere. 'I've never been here at this hour,' Kidgell says, appraising the grandparents shuffling between the bistro and pokie machines. 'I've never made a better choice in my life. It's awesome.' The meal he orders reveals as much about his simple tastes as the location, despite his globetrotting lifestyle. Kidgell ignores my efforts to elevate our dining experience by pointing out there are oysters on the menu, and states he wants a parma. He says it with such conviction that I hurry to the counter – there's no table service, and drinks are ordered separately at the bar – forgetting we are also supposed to get sides. On the spot, I order my Dorito-crumbed chicken burger, glance over the menu again and pick the popcorn cauliflower for a side. Wrong choice. When it arrives at the table, Kidgell looks at the dish as if it has just told a very bad joke, calls it a bold order and doesn't touch it throughout the meal. (The parma, smothered in stretchy, wet cheese, and a side of chips are meticulously devoured.) My Dorito burger has certainly got its namesake crunch, but I forgot to ask for no jalapenos, so I put it down and return to our conversation. Doing stand-up comedy might be many people's worst nightmare but Kidgell relishes it. He recalls his first-ever gig at the Imperial Hotel near Melbourne's Parliament Station: 'I think I got, like, three laughs, but it was enough to get me to come back.' The 29-year-old has been chasing those laughs since he was a teen in high school, which is where we first met, though we haven't caught up for more than a decade. I remember him as someone who was more interested in joking around than studying, dedicating endless hours of his lunchtime filming skits with his friends. The videos would be posted to the early iterations of Facebook in a group that quickly developed a mass following among his classmates. I ask Kidgell to describe what he was like when he was younger, and whether it was natural that he went on to make people laugh for a living. 'Can you [describe me]?' he asks instead. 'I would classify you as a class clown-type,' I say. 'You can use the term attention-seeker,' he says. 'That's probably more accurate.' He reveals to me over lunch that it was in our high school history class he was told for the first time he should be a stand-up comic – by a likely disgruntled teacher tired of his interruptions, but still. '[She said] you should do stand-up comedy, laughed, and then walked away,' he recalls. 'I have a distinct memory of her saying that ... It was the first time anyone's ever suggested it, even if it was a joke. She was probably like, 'That would be the worst'. And I was like, 'She's onto something'.' Kidgell admits he was never particularly studious, and he has certainly maintained his laid-back demeanour, lounging in his chair on the Diamo pub's balcony in his plain white tee and jeans. 'I was capable, but didn't apply myself – the correct terminology is underachiever,' he says. I try to tease out what goes into building such an impressive brand, having seen the shift from that kid goofing off in class, but he's reluctant to talk about his success. Kidgell brushes off the size of his social media following, cringes when I use the word 'fans', and claims comedians leech more off society than they contribute. ('Oh, such a service that we do,' he quips. 'Getting up there and having people pay to hear our thoughts!') But a serious drive lurks beneath that unassuming surface. Kidgell co-owns a business with his brother and manager, Jack, and they have 10 employees working on a plethora of projects: they have a new, self-produced comedy special; they've built an almost 3 million-strong social media following; Kidgell is in the midst of a three-year-long tour schedule; he's just written a new show; he performs up to four times a week when he's in Melbourne; and he has a podcast. And his attention to detail extends beyond being able to mop up every inch of a pub parma. Kidgell colour codes his writing so he can tell how funny his script is at a glance, and he keeps track of how many gigs he's done – 1304 at the time of interview. Oh, and he's training for a marathon. 'I only really do the [social media] videos as a means to make it a career,' he eventually elaborates. 'I just knew it would sell me tickets, and it worked. I think it worked better than I thought it would. I kind of was just like, 'Oh, man, if I could just do this full-time, that'd be great'. And now we've started a whole business, and it's a whole thing.' Kidgell rode the wave of social media as Instagram and then TikTok exploded, and says being online is increasingly becoming a requirement for entertainers to get exposure. 'I think every comedian now has realised that you need to be on social media. And it works,' he says. 'It's where most people under 30 consume media. I don't know why you wouldn't be on it at this point. It would be a disservice to your career if you weren't where everyone's eyes are.' He says his willingness to take a punt and improvise with crowds plays well online, but it was an interaction with a woman with Tourette's in regional New South Wales that first propelled his content into virality. 'She started ticking,' he says. 'She said eff off, which is not uncommon in Tamworth, so I just thought it was a regular heckle.' She explained and they had a laugh, and the interaction went viral. She came up after the gig and thanked him; she didn't normally feel comfortable going to shows. 'Then a bunch of other people with Tourette's started coming to my shows, and I ended up doing a fundraiser for them last year,' Kidgell says. 'That's the thing, people get so uncomfortable joking about it. [But people with Tourette's are] Like, as long as you're not being mean, and you're including us in it, it's great. So I think that has been maybe a bit of a point that has differentiated me in the sense that I don't go in on people – unless they deserve it.' But he wants people to know he's no angel. In fact, it's the theme of his show Good Intentions, which he's touring Australia on the back of another stint in the US. 'People think I'm a way better bloke than I am,' he says. 'That's what my new show is about. It's about me telling people, like, I'm not actually that nice.' Kidgell looks around and says he doesn't go to the Diamo pub that frequently any more. His friends refuse to come with him at weekends because he gets recognised too often, though he glances towards the pokies-playing pensioners this Tuesday lunchtime and reckons we're safe for now. 'We have the pub at home now,' he says. '[My partner] Meg got me a kegerator for Christmas. It's like a beer tap in a fridge, so now we just do it up the road. 'But the parmas aren't as good.'

Insane time it takes to build a house in 2025
Insane time it takes to build a house in 2025

Perth Now

time31 minutes ago

  • Perth Now

Insane time it takes to build a house in 2025

Construction time for an average home has increased by a whopping 50 per cent in the past year, with Australia's ambitious 1.2 million homes target already 55,300 homes behind just one year in. While a house took about 8.5 months to build from approval to completion in 2014, it took an average of 12.7 months in 2024, data compiled by the Institute of Public Affairs has revealed. Costs for building materials had also increased by 53 per cent in the same period. Construction times increased across the board in 2021 as a result of supply-chain issues during the Covid pandemic. The lacklustre figures come as Australia marks one year into the five-year National Housing Accords, in which states and territories must build a combined 1.2 million well-located homes by June 30, 2029. The Commonwealth government has also encouraged states and territories with a $3.5bn funding pot as a carrot for reaching the goal. Between 2014 to 2024, the time it takes to build a home has increased by 50 per cent to a national average of 12.7 months. NewsWire/ Gaye Gerard Credit: News Corp Australia Using building activity data from the Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS), the IPA found Western Australia was leading the construction lag, with an unenviable increase of 85 per cent to 17.8 months. Building costs have also increased by 45 per cent. South Australia had the next slowest builds of 15.8 months, a hike of 74 per cent, with cost going up by 51 per cent. Over 10 years, the cost of materials had increased by 58 per cent in both NSW and Queensland, where it now respectively takes 12.7 months and 10.2 months to build a detached home. It takes 11.3 months to build a home in Victoria, and 12.6 months to complete a home in Tasmania, with material prices increasing by 56 per cent and 55 per cent. IPA research director Morgan Begg said it was 'little wonder' that Australia was in a housing crisis, with the 'unprecedented demand' for housing being exacerbated by increased construction time and costs. 'The federal government's National Housing Accord will mark its first-year anniversary being tens of thousands of homes behind schedule, as red tape strangles new home builds, with construction times ballooning by 50 per cent,' he said. 'Home ownership is fundamental to the Australian way of life. It gives people a stake in our country and provides long-term financial security for families.' Mr Begg said 'all levels of government must do their part to fix this crisis,' highlighting action points like reducing migration, urging state and local governments to open up more land and cut red tape to boost construction. 'Over the past decade Australia has seen demand-driven cost increases to construction material and labour caused by large, inefficient government projects, creating the perfect storm of rising prices and rents, particularly in the post-pandemic period,' he said. 'Across the board, the latest figures reinforce the depth of Australia's housing crisis, brought about by out-of-control migration intakes, a construction sector burdened by red tape, and competition for resources from large, expensive, and inefficient taxpayer-funded projects.' Coalition housing spokesman Andrew Bragg accused Labor of being 'more interested in announcing targets and building bureaucracies than actually erecting any homes'. NewsWire/ Martin Ollman Credit: News Corp Australia Coalition housing spokesman Andrew Bragg said the housing targets were a 'dead duck,' adding that completed dwellings had dropped by 1 per cent over the last 12 months, according to the ABS. 'A year since Labor's Housing Accord 'officially began', building approvals and activity have gone backwards,' he said. 'Labor is more interested in announcing targets and building bureaucracies than actually erecting any homes. 'Labor's actions show they don't support private developers and builders. They think they know better. No wonder the construction industry has consistently led the nation in insolvencies.' Housing Minister Clare O'Neil has flagged reforming building regulations in a second-term Albanese government. NewsWire/ Martin Ollman Credit: News Corp Australia Housing Minister Clare O'Neil has previously said reducing the 'thicket of regulation' around building homes will be a key priority in Labor's next term of government. As of June, the Hotham MP will also oversee planning policy after she inherited it from the the treasurer's portfolio. A spokesman for Ms O'Neil said on Tuesday Labor had been 'very frank' that building homes both costed too much and took too long. He said Labor was focused on 'working closely with all levels of government and builders to try and fix that,' while also 'increasing productivity, encouraging the building sector to look at more modern methods of building and improving planning pathways and removing red tape'. 'The Liberals can run their mouths, but the reality is they haven't put forward a single legitimate proposition that would increase the number of homes being built in Australia – in fact, their solution was to rip billions of dollars from funding for tens of thousands of social and affordable homes,' he said. 'Talk to anyone who knows the residential building sector and they will tell you that structural reform takes time, and building homes takes time, and the Commonwealth is doing that work. In contrast, the Liberal Party didn't touch that work in their last decade in office.'

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