'“No-Platforming” has increased in prominence within Australia in recent years. Furthermore, it has moved from university campuses to more mainstream sectors of the Australian public sphere. The “no-platforming” of an audience member on an ABC current affairs programme in March 2022 is evidence of this. By focussing on the arguments for and against no-platforming, as well as this incident, this article seeks to show their wider significance for no-platforming in Australia, and the implications of this for freedom of speech within the Australian public sphere.' (Publication abstract)
'Australia's migrant and minority media has a long and rich history, which dates to before the twentieth century's post-War immigration boom, and even long before Federation. While there are few definitive explorations that have been published prior, these two volumes, both edited by Catherine Dewhirst and Richard Scully, bridge this gap and provide comprehensive examinations of Australia's migrant and minority press between the colonial period and the present. Both books are considered counterpart volumes, originating from an interdisciplinary conference, and on reading, they work in companionship to each other as part of the Palgrave Studies in the History of the Media series. Although, they are driven by different yet interrelated core themes: The Transnational Voices and The Voices of Challenge – both of which emphasise the essentiality and vibrancy of migrant and minority voice.' (Introduction)
'The familiar periodisations of post-World War II Australian history sample their own versions of Donald Horne, each evoked in Ryan Cropp's biography. There is the ‘mean-spirited’ (p.116) Cold War warrior through to Horne's emergence as ‘Australia's leading republican’ (p.40) in the 1970s. Then comes Horne's prominence at the intersection of ‘public culture’, ‘cultural policy’ and (in retaliation under John Howard as – so Horne described him shortly before his death in 2005– ‘the ayatollah of the Australian character’) the ‘culture wars’ from the 1990s onwards. In between, of course, was The Lucky Country, that incisive account of the average Australian (‘a man in an open-necked shirt, solemnly eating an ice-cream’), never out of print since 1964, set for school curricula, its ironic title so frequently misunderstood.' (Introduction)
