Every time that Donald Trump wades into the press pool we’re reminded that the First Amendment exists only to blow hot air into his already ego-filled floaties. Use it to criticise, satirise or contextualise him or his retinue of risible sycophants and you’re in the deep end. But you don’t have to be Jimmy Kimmel or The New York Times to attract Trump’s scorn for free speech and the Fourth Estate, which he has described as “enemies of the people”. This is no longer even a domestic issue, it’s an export.

Last week, Australia’s prime minister, Anthony Albanese, risked a fresh round of Trump tariffs by moving forward with the proposed News Bargaining Incentive (NBI), a plan to prise revenue from US tech giants in order to fund Australian journalism. But is this a clever policy to shore up democratic institutions or a lightning-before-death effort that could just as easily expedite the decline of traditional media? 

The news comes just days after the US president threatened the UK, on the eve of King Charles III’s visit to the White House, with a “big tariff” over its tech crackdown. Unlike the UK’s digital services tax, which was introduced in 2020 and imposes a 2 per cent levy on the revenues of several tech behemoths, Australia’s NBI requires the likes of Meta, Google and TikTok (among other large social media and tech platforms) to make commercial deals with Australian media outlets or be forced to pay a 2.25 per cent charge on local revenues. If voluntary deals aren’t struck, the Commonwealth will collect the levy and pass it on to media companies.

The US has already threatened countries that “discriminate” against its tech companies by demanding that they pay for the content that they use, hence why the Albanese administration is doing its best to show that such a measure is not a tax. “This is not about government revenue,” says Albanese. “Every single dollar will go back to journalists. We think that investment in journalism is critical to a healthy democracy. It matters.” 

It is a moral stance that will mist up the eyes of even the most hardened sub-editor. But the snag is that the policy rests on an assumption that no longer holds: that tech platforms still need the news to keep people around. The harsh reality is that they increasingly don’t. Canada’s Online News Act went into effect in December 2023 and Meta has been blocking news links on Facebook in the country ever since. Yet the expected slump in engagement failed to materialise. It turns out that people on Facebook are more interested in AI-generated slop, conspiracy theories and the photo dumps of their racist relative’s recent Caribbean cruise than they are in good journalism or the news of the day. 

Just like AI, these tech giants rose to prominence – in no small part – on the back of journalistic content. Now they’re big enough to do without the news and so the press is left holding nothing but its integrity (a noble commodity but increasingly hard to monetise).
One thing is certain, Trump is no friend of the free press and he made his feelings quite clear at April’s White House Correspondents Dinner. Ostensibly, the event is when Washington honours the First Amendment by celebrating journalism and letting a comedian roast the president in a symbolic display of executive humility before the Constitution. Not this year. Instead of a comedian who might tell the truth, Trump opted for a magician who deals in deception. The president sat gloating over a press corps whose members he has threatened to imprison and whose organisations he is actively suing. Meanwhile he has turned the Pentagon into a closed shop, made a mockery of CBS and defunded NPR, PBS and Voice of America. 

The risk of Australia’s stance is not only that Trump will level tariffs at the nation but that the Australian government’s stick for tech giants will backfire. Meta already ditched its commercial deals with Australian publishers in 2024 and rather than pay to play, the company will probably block the news on its platforms as it has in Canada. The result would be a reduction in web traffic for already struggling Australian media outfits, further broadening the vacuum in which misinformation proliferates. 

All of which leaves Albanese on a sticky wicket. The NBI is a principled if flawed attempt to rebalance the relationship between tech platforms and the press. But it might also be strategically naive. If the platforms refuse to play, Australia will be left not only facing possible tariffs from Washington but having also confirmed that you can’t save journalism by passing a hat around Silicon Valley. 
 
Blake Matich is Monocle’s digital sub editor. To read the full article, click here.

This week sees the start of the Venice Biennale’s Vernissage – the preview week for press and VIPs – but there is disquiet among the gardens and waters of La Serenissima (writes Sophie Monaghan-Coombs). The run-up to the “Art Olympics” has been dominated by an explosive row over who’s taking part. The resulting furore has now reached its crescendo: the entire Biennale jury has resigned and Alessandro Giuli, the Italian minister for culture, has launched an investigation into Russia’s pavilion.  

Designed by Alexey Shchusev in the early 20th century, Russia’s pavilion is a grand, imposing building in Venice’s Giardini – prime real estate in Biennale terms. For the first time since the full-scale Russian invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, the building will be used to showcase the country’s chosen artists. (The exhibition, a performance titled The tree is rooted in the sky, conjures the image of a topsy turvy reality that feels particularly apt here.)

Russia owns its Giardini building and the Biennale’s constitution says that any country recognised by the Italian government is entitled to take part. To some extent, then, a country can decide how they participate and Russia’s absence in recent years (its artist and curator withdrew in 2022 and Bolivia used the pavilion in 2024) has been their choice. Now, not only Russia’s return but the inclusion of Israel in the event has caused consternation throughout the art world. For the five-person jury – tasked with giving prizes to the pavilions and appointed by the Biennale’s late curator, Kuyo Kouoh – the compounding controversies have clearly become untenable. What is unclear, and what will likely be at the heart of Giuli’s inquiries, is whether EU sanctions have been violated in the staging of Russia’s show. 

The power of art to transcend or entrench political realities is always part of what makes the Venice Biennale the event that it is. But to witness such deep divisions – before even a single guest has disembarked the vaporetto – hints at something more profound. For the next six months, Venice will not only take the temperature of contemporary art in 2026; the city will also play host to a much bigger story about which conflicts and countries deserve uproar in the public imagination, and whether even egregious acts can be quietly forgotten with time. Over the coming months there will be much more than paintings and sculptures reflected in the waters of Venice. 

Planning to head to Venice for the Biennale? Here are three stories about the floating city worth your while.