Kevin Doodney defends the practice of microapartments
Photo shows 'Strong and free' Canada: King Charles sits on a throne reading a speech, Canadian flag beside him, PM Mark Carney watches on.
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Sky News AU
5 hours ago
- Sky News AU
‘Draconian' Victorian Government imposes hefty fine for farmers
Victoria Shadow Treasurer James Newbury says the Victorian Government is telling farmers they will be fined $12,210 if they block transmission companies land access. 'It's shocking and they're doing this not just to regional Victoria, but also in the city,' Mr Newbury told Sky News host Steve Price. 'The government is taking over planning controls … now saying to farmers we're going to come along with a massive stick if you say no. 'What the government's doing is draconian.'
Daily Telegraph
11 hours ago
- Daily Telegraph
Tiny detail that shows Trump's wild security
Don't miss out on the headlines from World. Followed categories will be added to My News. In front of me was a winding path, a plethora of pine trees and an invisible line. The only clue this line even existed was the presence, just beyond it, of a single security guard. She was not to be trifled with. asked the guard if a journalist could get shot if they crossed this imperceptible barrier. 'Not shot,' she said. 'But I'd have to tackle you to the ground. 'I'd prefer not to though because I've had a lot of waffles for breakfast'. Donald Trump would be safe even without this most Canadian of security guards. Because at last week's G7 meeting of world leaders, if you'd got this close to the summit venue you'd been checked so many times already that you felt like you been stripped of even a harmful retort let alone a harmful firearm. Tiny detail on valley floor Incongruous sights abounded in and around the luxury Kananaskis Mountain Lodge resort, in the Canadian Rockies where the G7 was being held. They were both concerning and reassuring. On a valley floor, hundreds of metres from the resort down an almost sheer cliff that would challenge even the most ardent anti-Trump protester, spied something sticking out among the forest trees. Something that showed just how serious was the effort to keep Donald Trump alive. And Emmanuel Macron. And Keir Starmer. And Volodymyr Zelensky, Narendra Modi and our own Anthony Albanese. US President Donald Trump is greeted by the Prime Minister of Canada Mark Carney, left, at the G7 summit in Kananaskis, Alberta, Canada, Monday June 16, 2025. (Stefan Rousseau/Pool Photo via AP) A tiny detail from this far up, temporary fencing jutted out from the scraggly bush and darted towards the Kananaskis River. At its apex was a mobile security tower brimming with lights and cameras. Nothing was getting up this cliff face. But it wasn't just protesters, the Royal Mounted Canadian Police – the Mounties – who spearheaded security at the event were concerned about. It was also wildlife: specifically bears. A temporary security fence just out of a forest near Kananaskis to protect the leaders at the G7. Picture: Benedict Brook. In March, the Mounties estimated that G7 security would cost it alone at least $53 million. But that's likely a huge underestimation of the actual cost. Canada's last G7, held in 2018, cost $433 million all up, more than half of that on policing and security. Costs have shot up since a 1999 World Trade Organisation meeting in Seattle CBD which descended into chaos as protesters fought police. It's now known as the 'Battle of Seattle'. Since then, the G7 summits have mostly been held in more rural locales such as Kananaskis, around 90 minutes west of Calgary. Safe, secure, but costly. The G7 could end costing Canada half a billion dollars. (AP Photo/Mark Schiefelbein) 'One way in, one way out' 'One way in, one way out,' security specialist Alan Bell told The Guardian during the 2018 G7 which was held in a rustic area of Quebec. 'If you go back to some G7 meetings, the downtown core always gets trashed. 'What they want to do is zero in on the protesters. If they want to come, they basically have to walk in.' A 'controlled access zone' was set up around the Kananaskis lodge for miles around, brimming with police and cameras. But the security began way before these more physical elements. To even get near Kananaskis, or one of the secondary venues in Calgary and Banff, you had to be security vetted and accredited. Anthony Albanese's base hotel in Calgary's city centre was also home to various countries and bodies that orbited – but were not part of – the core Group of Seven nations. Britain's Prime Minister Keir Starmer (L) and Anthony Albanese hold a bilateral meeting during the Group of Seven (G7) Summit. Picture: Stefan Rousseau / NewsWire Pool Delegations lingered in the lobby, parting like Moses at the Red Sea as leaders came and went, such as Canada's PM Mark Carney. At one point NATO secretary-general and former Dutch PM Mark Rutte strolled breezily through not looking a bit like a man who has the weight of the defence of Europe on his shoulders. Barricades surrounded the hotel. Like fancy nightclubs and their notorious lists, if you didn't have the right lanyard you weren't getting in. Sirens wailing, lights flashing and engines roaring signalled a motorcade was about to depart. And this was 100km east of Kananaskis. Getting to the actual lodge would test Mission Impossible's Ethan Hunt. Police check 4 of 6, or maybe 16 – it got blurry. Picture: Benedict Brook. Six checkpoints, maybe more On Tuesday, Mr Albanese headed for Kananaskis itself to meet the G7 leaders in person – well G6 since Donald Trump left a day early. As such, the travelling Australian media – including – were invited too. First stop, Calgary airport and a draughty hanger where a screening station had been set up. Sniffer dogs complimented X-ray machines and pat downs as every item – from pads to cameras – was scrutinised. The whole process could have been quite stressful were it not for the bottomless well of cheeriness even the most formidable looking Canadian seems to possess. Next stop was special G7 buses with police officers on board for the long drive from the flat prairies to the Rocky Mountains, snow-capped even in summer. The coach was now a secure environment. If just one of us hopped off to snap a picture of the icy blue - almost milky looking - waters of mountain fed lakes, we'd all have to head back to the airport and have our bags sniffed once more. Then the checkpoints began. Plural. They started off simple: a couple of guys ensuring the coach was expected. But each time, it got more serious. At one check point accreditation was counted and examined; at another high fences began to slice through the forest. Many, many fences to protect world leaders. Picture: Benedict Brook. No bears These fences were a minimum of eight feet high. That's not just to make it hard for humans to scale but to 'limit wildlife access' stated organisers. Mountain goats, moose, and wolves roam these parts. But it's mostly overly inquisitive bears that were a worry. There are around 70 grizzlies in the area. Bears care little for controlled access zones, closed hiking routes or polite Canadians urging them to respect the cordon, so fences were the last defence. The police had a whole plan to make sure grizzly bears weren't unexpected guests at the G7. Picture: iStock Giant helicopters could be spied through the trees in temporary heliports, military Chinooks whirred overhead with VIPs, the guns got bigger with each passing checkpoint. A no fly-zone was also in place. But a flight tracking app revealed a US air force Stratotanker was ceaselessly circling, peering down on events below. A US air force plane kept watch above the G7 summit. Picture: FlightRadar24. After around six separate checkpoints, the immaculate resort grounds appeared. The media could freely roam a compound of large tents that had been erected on two tennis courts to file stories. Generally, that was it. So close, yet so many police ready to wrestle you to the ground if you dared venture further. The media village at the G7 summit in Kananaskis. Leaving this area needed a police escort for journalists. Picture: Benedict Brook. But when Mr Albanese was meeting world leaders there was an opportunity to go into the lodge itself – to the belly of the diplomatic beast. The building itself looked rustic, warming and rich. However, the police escorting you were not in the habit of letting you hang around and appreciate the amenities. There was a charming restaurant that we would not be allowed to dine in, but I liked to think France's Macron had dipped in for a cheeky croque monsieur earlier. And a souvenir shop we would not be allowed to shop at, but perhaps Germany's new Chancellor Friedrich Merz had ducked in for a G7 souvenir mug and hoodie. To get this close needed security checks, X-rays, six checkpoints and a police escort. Picture: Benedict Brook. When Mr Albanese's hand shaking was done and his press conference was completed it was time for the Australian media to go too. But it took an hour to leave Kananaskis due to all the motorcades. These are not everyday traffic issues. Yet high up in the mountains, in the surprisingly warm air, with views that made you wonder if they should have filmed Lord of the Rings here rather than New Zealand, it wasn't the most awful place be forced to dawdle in. Alberta being all very New Zealand. Picture: Benedict Brook Not a single arrest For Canada, it was half a billion dollars well spent: not a single arrest was made at the G7. The biggest issue, Alberta Forestry and Parks Superintendent Brian Sundberg told Canada's Global News, was indeed the wildlife. 'About half of the reports were for grizzly bear and black bears,' he told local media. Bear spray, 'bear bangers,' and dogs were used to ensure they didn't even get as far as the fence. 'I'm very happy to say that all of those are minor in nature and as a result we were able to take minimal action to move the risk away'. It will be a relief to Canada's Mr Carney that no world leaders, or bears, were harmed during the G7. Originally published as Tiny detail that shows Trump's wild security
ABC News
11 hours ago
- ABC News
As Iran and Israel fighting rages, many people face a difficult choice
For some people in Iran and Israel, the past week of fighting between their two countries has posed a difficult question: stay, or leave? Choosing the former usually means living with an ever-present risk of serious injury or death. At best? Survival and constant anxiety. Seeking to leave your home to find safer areas — elsewhere in the country or abroad — may seem an obvious option, but there are multiple reasons why it's not one available to everyone. It often represents a logistical nightmare that comes at enormous financial cost (just ask the Israelis who chartered yachts to take them on a 20-hour journey to the safety of Cyprus this week). Some residents of Tel Aviv are determined to stay in the city. However, they are moving underground to stay safe. Three generations of the Papirany family are currently living underneath one of the city's largest malls, the Dizengoff Centre. Their home is still standing. But a missile strike a few days ago hit buildings a couple of hundred metres away and they are worried about being caught short in future. "I've never heard anything like it before, there were like several jets up ahead, like a dog fight was going on, and we heard lots of booms," Tracey Papirany said. "And then next minute, such a loud boom that everyone yelled and grabbed each other." When the ABC visited the car park, people's mobile phones started chirping with advance warning of a missile strike, which comes from an official Israeli government app. "We put on a show, just for you," Mali, Tracey's daughter, quipped. "This is our everyday life, it's the reality here and that's what we accept when we come here. "We know what we're coming into and we live with it each day now." Maya Papirany, Mali's sister, said she had copped abuse from her friends for moving to Israel. She had been living in New Zealand with her two young children while her parents were in Australia. When they moved to Israel, she followed. "I made that decision knowing that there was a war, but I knew that I had no choice, there was nothing else I could do, it was my sanity, my mental health and doing what I thought was best for the children at the time," she said. "And since moving over, people have been messaging me saying, how could you bring your children to this war? How could you do this to them?" While the Papiranys brought their own bedding, the shopping centre's management is also sourcing supplies. "We're also bringing them tents and mattresses, so people will come here every night, just for the night, from 6pm to 9 in the morning after," Dizengoff centre chief executive Dan Pilz said. "And then they can spend the night safely, not be worrying about taking the kids to run during the bombs. "Without tents and mattresses, 4,000 or 5,000 people can stay here, [with tents] we believe we can contain around 100 or 150 families." Almost 1,500 kilometres away, in Iran, Israel's attacks over the past week have sparked a rush at many of the country's land borders as people attempt to flee. With airports shuttered, hours-long traffic jams clogged roads out of the capital, Tehran. Some were headed for more isolated areas, particularly in the country's north, while others, like Barry Jahed, 34, and his father, Parvis, wanted out altogether. Both men are British-Iranian and live in London. Parvis had been working on a film in Iran and had been based there for several months at the time of the latest attacks, while Barry had arrived in the country to visit family in May. After several days of moving between various locations — including a particularly distressing night at a relative's home, which was punctuated by "a series of air raids and explosions", according to Barry — the pair decided to head for the country's border with Türkiye. That meant convincing a stranger to drive them north. "We didn't get to say goodbye to family members or anything like that. We made a rush to the border in this car," Barry told the ABC. They relied on connections to beat large queues at petrol stations, and eventually used a border crossing that's typically reserved for freight. Once in Türkiye, Barry and his father combined with a group of around 16 other people in the same position to rent a dilapidated minibus in an attempt to drive towards Istanbul and its major international airport. After multiple mechanical issues, that trip took about 24 hours. "We had a young girl sit up front, and she was the DJ and put on music, and we listened to some songs and tried to make it as enjoyable as possible, as uncomfortable as the journey was," Barry said. After boarding a flight in Istanbul, Barry and Parvis are now back in London. But their concerns about the situation in Iran remain ever-present. "I'm worried about not just the bombings, but also the further consequences of shortages of fuel and therefore food," Barry said. His elderly grandmother is among the many people who cannot leave. "She's not able to move around very much," Barry said. "If there is some kind of shortages, this could very much be bad for her health." While Barry may be safe, his anxiety looks likely to continue as fighting rages into a second week. And if the rhetoric from leaders in both Israel and Iran is anything to go by, the end of hostilities could be a long way off.
