Could young Aussies be convinced to do national service? For the Finns, it's an act of nationalism
For three young Finnish men – Juho Hirst (21), Jaakko Pasanen (25) and Nicholas Boosey (24) – the path to adulthood wasn't theirs to choose. In Finland, every male citizen aged 18 and over must complete at least 165 days of military service, or, for conscientious objectors, 347 days of civilian service.
Juho became a paratrooper, joining an elite group of fewer than 60 recruits. Jaakko trained as a reserve officer and went on to lead a platoon responsible for training new recruits. Nicholas completed non-commissioned officer training in urban warfare.
'Military service isn't meant to be fun and enjoyable all the time,' Jaakko says. It requires sisu, a uniquely Finnish concept that Nicholas describes as 'being quite stoic and maybe a bit gruff, but determined and resilient'.
The physical and psychological toll of service was clear in Juho's account of survival training in the Finnish Lapland: 'You're stuck in a forest, it rains for a couple of days straight, you're cold, and you don't have much food.'
For Nicholas, it involved '72-hour exercises without sleeping … lugging 30-kilo rucksacks, and carrying your teammates, cannons and rocket launchers'.
In comparison, all three agreed that the everyday pressures of student life now feel far more manageable.
According to Nicholas, one key reason for Finland's exceptionally high social cohesion is that national service 'serves an important role in society as a kind of transition to adulthood – a marker of societal respect and dignity'.
By fostering mutual respect between younger and older generations who have completed service, and strengthening the bond between the individual and the state – which not only provides national security but also offers a range of benefits through the Finnish welfare system – military service addresses issues related to 'self-esteem, identity and meaning' that appear to be troubling young men in many other Western countries.
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SBS Australia
an hour ago
- SBS Australia
This school's cane toad muster shows how education could be done differently
Most children are already home from school when darkness falls. But in the Kimberley, it's a different story. Once the sun sets, these kids are armed with rubbish bags and a bunch of sticks to walk through their community of Woorreranginy — also known as Frog Hollow — in search of cane toads. The invasive species come out at night and can be lethal to native predators who try to eat them, including quokkas, reptiles and birds. But they're no match for the students of Purnululu Aboriginal Independent Community School (PAICS). "Our science teacher came up with this idea to toad muster because I think he's seen a lot of them here," Sophia Mung, the Maja Gijam Boorroo (Boss for Gija Language and Culture) at PAICS, told SBS News. Mairead Scanlon, who became principal of the school this year, says the extracurricular activity is all about teaching the Gija children the importance of protecting their Country. "They went out for a few hours … they're helping protect the country," Scanlon told SBS News. "The disposal is the tricky bit. You need to freeze them and make sure you don't put them in the bin too far before rubbish day as they can smell a bit." It's just one way education is done differently in the East Kimberley. A key part of the Gija curriculum is On Country learning, where students engage in hands-on, culturally responsive teachings on Aboriginal land. Source: Supplied Aboriginal education that's the 'first of its kind' PAICS is the first Aboriginal school in Western Australia to formally change its entire curriculum to focus on Gija learning. It isn't aware of any other schools in Australia that approach Aboriginal education like it does. The school is working to revive Gija, the traditional language of the area that has been spoken for thousands of years. Its entire teaching program — from literacy, to numeracy, to art and science — centres on Gija stories, language, kinship and connection to Country. Mung is one of the last fluent Gija speakers left, and has been working for years to ensure her knowledge is passed down to the next generation. She's spent the last few years co-developing an alternative Gija curriculum for the school — recognised by the Curriculum Standards Authority in Western Australia — based on Gija culture and language. Most of the 46 students enrolled from early childhood to high school speak English as their second language. Their first is Gija Kriol, which combines Gija and Kriol. Aboriginal Kriol languages developed after European invasion and there are numerous dialects. They are primarily spoken in the Northern Territory and Western Australia. While some may perceive them as similar to English, Kriol is recognised as a legitimate language with its own grammatical system. Gija woman Sophia Mung (left) is one of the last fluent speakers of Gija and has worked for years to co-develop the Gija curriculum. She's teaming up with school principal Mairead Scanlon (right) to change the way education is done in Aboriginal communities. Source: Supplied The school is working with a language consultant to develop the orthography — a system of writing rules — for Gija Kriol, and is hoping to create a structured phonics and literacy program for the language to be taught in the school. "Gija Kriol is what they're speaking at home," Scanlon said. "A lot of kids when they get to school, it might be the first time they hear standard Australian English being spoken — and that's a really big challenge for them." Mung adds that the school's focus on embedding the Gija curriculum into every lesson, rather than offering individual units addressing Aboriginal language or culture, has led to some students travelling long distances from neighbouring towns to attend the school. Some of the kids come from 35 kilometres down the road in Warmun … they hear that we are teaching our traditional language here. Sophia Mung, Maja Gijam Boorroo (Boss for Gija Language and Culture) at Purnululu Aboriginal Independent Community School A foundational element of the curriculum is On Country learning, where students engage in hands-on, culturally responsive teachings on Aboriginal land. There are also after-school art clubs, regular cook-ups, and a Gija ranger program in the works. "A big focus of that is teaching the kids how to identify the native plants, what the non-native plants are, and then whether they're actually invasive," Scanlon said. Another key element is allowing students to develop their own Dreamtime stories based on the land and stories they are living on, written in Gija. The school also works with linguists and Kriol language consultants to convert traditional books into Gija Kriol, and to develop dedicated phonics resources. The children learn to read and write in Gija Kriol before standard Australian English. Purnululu Aboriginal Independent Community School is working with a language consultant to develop the orthography for Gija Kriol, including translating books and creating a structured phonics and literacy program. Source: Supplied Scanlon says the approach results in strong attendance and engagement because the kids feel "at home". "They feel that their language and culture is recognised and celebrated, so they're able to come to school proud," she said. Mung says their success is an example of how schools can resonate with Aboriginal students. "I think it would be good [for schools to] introduce their own Dreaming stories, bring them into the schools, and get the elders to come in and teach it. "You might get a lot of First Nations kids excelling at school." First Nations education gap widens Despite producing great outcomes for literacy and numeracy, the knowledge of kids at PAICS struggles to be recognised under standardised testing. The results of NAPLAN — Australia's largest standardised test — were released on Wednesday, showing student literacy and numeracy appeared to be stagnating across Australia. Almost one in three Indigenous students fell below minimum standards and needed extra support, compared to less than one in 10 non-Indigenous students. There was also a regional divide, with just one in five students in very remote areas considered strong or exceeding expectations, far below 70 per cent of students in major cities. LISTEN TO Key education outcomes in First Nations communities, like increasing Year 12 and tertiary education participation, were improving, but not on track to meet targets. Marian Vidal-Fernandez, associate professor in the School of Economics at the University of Sydney, says the large gaps are "deeply concerning, but sadly not new". She adds that since 2023 — the most recent comparable cohort — there are no signs of this gap narrowing. "This persistence points to systemic issues in how resources are allocated and how culturally and contextually appropriate support needs to be delivered to the communities most in need," she told SBS News. But the NT government appears to be doubling down on 'explicit teaching' and a focus on school attendance to boost numeracy and literacy standards. "This is about delivering results, not excuses," NT education minister Jo Hersey said in a statement about the 2025 NAPLAN results. "We're turning that around by getting kids back in the classroom and giving teachers the tools that work." She said territory-wide participation rates had risen from 79.4 per cent in 2024 to 81.5 per cent in 2025. Federal Education Minister Jason Clare said the NAPLAN results showed "encouraging signs of improvement", but said there was "more work to do". He said the government had committed to the biggest investment in public schools by an Australian government — $16 billion over the next 10 years. 'Traditional methods aren't meeting the needs of kids' While NAPLAN may highlight widening gaps, some are concerned the test also doesn't fully capture the breadth of students' knowledge. A sit-down paper like NAPLAN is considered by many to be a Eurocentric, Western approach to education that may not take into account cultural nuances or hands-on knowledge. For example, tests on comprehension rely on students being familiar with the words but also the broader story themes. If these are based on city-centric experiences, this may disadvantage those living in rural or remote areas. "If there was a story about going down to the river to catch some fish, the kids would be able to comprehend every part of that story," Scanlon explained. These standardised tests are penalising knowledge that isn't [seen] as relevant. They're not giving kids the chance to demonstrate the knowledge that they do have or the skills they are developing. Mairead Scanlon, principal of Purnululu Aboriginal Independent Community School Vidal-Fernandez says that evidence shows that when NAPLAN questions use everyday scenarios or contexts that Indigenous students understand, performance improves significantly. Scanlon says there is evidence that Aboriginal children are very competent at hands-on, visual learning — something that also cannot be captured in a sit-down exam like NAPLAN. While she understands the need for standardised testing, especially to gauge how schools are performing on average, she says poor results among Aboriginal students don't reflect their true ability. "There's not this recognition that kids are coming in already fully comprehending their first language, and then transitioning into another language and being assessed on it," the principal said. Principal Mairead Scanlon says there is evidence that First Nations students are very competent at hands-on, visual learning — something not captured in an exam like NAPLAN. Source: Supplied Parents can elect for their children to opt out of the NAPLAN test if they wish, something all parents at PAICS have done, as they don't see it as meaningfully contributing to their understanding of their child's development. "We can show them all the [alternative] evidence of how their children are growing," Scanlon explained. Scanlon says the limitations of NAPLAN don't just apply to Aboriginal schools. "This is happening across the whole education system. People are realising that the very traditional methods of teaching and learning aren't meeting the needs of a lot of kids." 'So much work to be done' Vidal-Fernandez says that while NAPLAN can be a "useful snapshot" for understanding broad trends in literacy and numeracy, as well as highlighting systemic gaps, it has clear limitations and is a "narrow assessment". She recommends allowing Indigenous communities to adapt the test to their needs in a way that's culturally appropriate. "[NAPLAN] doesn't capture essential aspects of education like creativity, cultural knowledge, social-emotional learning, teamwork, or artistic expression. These are core parts of a holistic education and deserve more emphasis." Scanlon hopes there will be opportunities to develop a more collective approach to literacy and numeracy among schools like hers with similar demographics. She says her school has invested a huge amount of time, money and resources into its innovative curriculum. "But if we want systemic improvement and change, we need funding to develop these programs for entire regions so it's not just individual schools that are running their own race with this." Queensland's Human Rights Commissioner, Scott McDougall, who will be speaking at this weekend's Garma Festival — Australia's largest Indigenous gathering — says plenty of work needs to be done between education departments and representatives of First Nations communities to ensure schools are retaining students and teaching them effectively. He acknowledges the need to develop appropriate curricula for First Nations groups, something that he isn't seeing broadly in Queensland. There are so many rights that are tied up in the education system, including cultural rights and the right to be taught your own language. Scott McDougall, Queensland's Human Rights Commissioner "So many schools report that First Nations children do not see any relevance in the material that's being presented to them," he said. He adds that a key issue is the high rates of student absences as a result of suspensions and expulsions, which can go against the right to education, now protected by Queensland's Human Rights Act. McDougall will speak at Garma about the meaningful enactment of human rights in First Nations communities, and says education is a core part of this. "There's so much work to be done in the education space," he said. "It's foundational to the empowerment of First Nations communities — and it's lagging well behind."
Sydney Morning Herald
2 days ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
Could young Aussies be convinced to do national service? For the Finns, it's an act of nationalism
In Australia, finishing high school opens a world of possibilities: will you dive straight into university, pick up a trade or take a gap year to travel the world? For three young Finnish men – Juho Hirst (21), Jaakko Pasanen (25) and Nicholas Boosey (24) – the path to adulthood wasn't theirs to choose. In Finland, every male citizen aged 18 and over must complete at least 165 days of military service, or, for conscientious objectors, 347 days of civilian service. Juho became a paratrooper, joining an elite group of fewer than 60 recruits. Jaakko trained as a reserve officer and went on to lead a platoon responsible for training new recruits. Nicholas completed non-commissioned officer training in urban warfare. 'Military service isn't meant to be fun and enjoyable all the time,' Jaakko says. It requires sisu, a uniquely Finnish concept that Nicholas describes as 'being quite stoic and maybe a bit gruff, but determined and resilient'. The physical and psychological toll of service was clear in Juho's account of survival training in the Finnish Lapland: 'You're stuck in a forest, it rains for a couple of days straight, you're cold, and you don't have much food.' For Nicholas, it involved '72-hour exercises without sleeping … lugging 30-kilo rucksacks, and carrying your teammates, cannons and rocket launchers'. In comparison, all three agreed that the everyday pressures of student life now feel far more manageable. According to Nicholas, one key reason for Finland's exceptionally high social cohesion is that national service 'serves an important role in society as a kind of transition to adulthood – a marker of societal respect and dignity'. By fostering mutual respect between younger and older generations who have completed service, and strengthening the bond between the individual and the state – which not only provides national security but also offers a range of benefits through the Finnish welfare system – military service addresses issues related to 'self-esteem, identity and meaning' that appear to be troubling young men in many other Western countries.
The Age
2 days ago
- The Age
Could young Aussies be convinced to do national service? For the Finns, it's an act of nationalism
In Australia, finishing high school opens a world of possibilities: will you dive straight into university, pick up a trade or take a gap year to travel the world? For three young Finnish men – Juho Hirst (21), Jaakko Pasanen (25) and Nicholas Boosey (24) – the path to adulthood wasn't theirs to choose. In Finland, every male citizen aged 18 and over must complete at least 165 days of military service, or, for conscientious objectors, 347 days of civilian service. Juho became a paratrooper, joining an elite group of fewer than 60 recruits. Jaakko trained as a reserve officer and went on to lead a platoon responsible for training new recruits. Nicholas completed non-commissioned officer training in urban warfare. 'Military service isn't meant to be fun and enjoyable all the time,' Jaakko says. It requires sisu, a uniquely Finnish concept that Nicholas describes as 'being quite stoic and maybe a bit gruff, but determined and resilient'. The physical and psychological toll of service was clear in Juho's account of survival training in the Finnish Lapland: 'You're stuck in a forest, it rains for a couple of days straight, you're cold, and you don't have much food.' For Nicholas, it involved '72-hour exercises without sleeping … lugging 30-kilo rucksacks, and carrying your teammates, cannons and rocket launchers'. In comparison, all three agreed that the everyday pressures of student life now feel far more manageable. According to Nicholas, one key reason for Finland's exceptionally high social cohesion is that national service 'serves an important role in society as a kind of transition to adulthood – a marker of societal respect and dignity'. By fostering mutual respect between younger and older generations who have completed service, and strengthening the bond between the individual and the state – which not only provides national security but also offers a range of benefits through the Finnish welfare system – military service addresses issues related to 'self-esteem, identity and meaning' that appear to be troubling young men in many other Western countries.
