Labor True Believers, Political Analysis and Satire

22/12/2025

What we learned: Monday 22 December

(The Guardian)

That’s where we’ll leave the blog for today. I hope you have a nice evening. We’ll be back tomorrow with more news. Until then, here were today’s top stories:

Palestine supporters gathered in Sydney to protest the Minns governments’ proposed anti-protest laws, where they defied the premier and chanted the “globalise the intifada” phrase he has signall plans to band.

New South Wales parliament resumed for an emergency sitting to debate new protest laws and gun law reforms, with the Coalition indicating it would support both pieces of legislation despite reservations.

The Victorian premier, Jacinta Allan, announced her government would introduce new police protest powers similar to those introduced to NSW parliament.

The prime minister, Anthony Albanese, said “I feel the weight of responsibility” for the Bondi terrorist attack as he addressed the media in Canberra. He continued to brush off calls for a federal royal commission into the attack.

Federal Labor lashed the opposition leader, Sussan Ley, for politicising the Bondi beach shooting, calling efforts by the Coalition to launch partisan attacks on Labor over the deaths of 15 people “incredibly unfortunate”.

The attorney-general, Michelle Rowland, announced federal cabinet had agreed to progress a new package of anti-hate speech legislation.

The home affairs minister, Tony Burke, promised tougher action against organisations such as neo-Nazi group the National Socialist Network.

Alleged Bondi shooter Naveed Akram left hospital under riot squad guard and was moved to a New South Wales prison, police have confirmed.

The energy minister, Chris Bowen, announced Australia will have a gas reservation policy preventing gas exports from going overseas unless the government is satisfied domestic demand is sufficient.

And the agreement for the transition of the Northern Beaches hospital to the state’s public hospital system was signed after months of negotiations.

22/12/2025

HIDDEN WOMEN OF HISTORY

Isabel Flick, the tenacious campaigner who fought segregation in Australia

(Heather Goodall, University of Technology Sydney, The Conversation)

Like many other Aboriginal kids in 1938, Isabel Flick was denied an education because she was “too black” to be allowed into the segregated public school.

Her father, a returned serviceman, was disrespected by the nation he had fought for. She and her siblings faced the threat of being taken from their family. She was later called a “trouble maker” for demanding justice for Aboriginal women and children and Aboriginal rights to land.

Despite the formidable racism of rural Australia, Isabel, a Gamilaraay and Bigambul woman living in Collarenebri, did not give up on the bush. She returned again and again to the upper Darling River, demanding land for Aboriginal people (who in that area called themselves Murries) and protection of the river from the grazing and cotton industries.

It was an irony that amused Isabel that, in 1991, she was called on to be a spokesperson for the whole town, white and black, in its campaign for safe drinking water and decent river flows for everyone. The town of Collarenebri, which had resisted her calls for justice for most of her life, was now asking her to protect its very existence in the deep drought of the 1990s.

Born in 1928, Isabel had shown how tenacious she was from a young age – although denied access to the Collarenebri public school, she was determined to teach herself to read and write. And she did. On the veranda of the local manse as a child and then in every place she worked and lived, Isabel grabbed every shred of knowledge and skill she could, determined she would not be defeated by segregation and exclusion.

‘I was terrified when I stood up there’

By the 1950s, as a young mother, Isabel was working as a cleaner in the same school to which she had been denied access as a student. She was trying to hold her family together in the face of uncertainty in the pastoral work her partner did and a precarious existence on the edge of the town.

Murri kids were now allowed to go to the school, but they faced hostility from white students, parents and staff. Isabel used her time there to support them, demonstrating her formidable insight as well as her negotiating skills and keen sense of humour to disarm conflict with teachers and deflect contempt from white parents.

Still, the possibility of her flying under the radar could not last. Indeed it was over children that Isabel decided to take on the town. She and her sister-in-law, Isobelle Walford, had for years been angered by the discrimination their children were facing in the schools and in the main streets. The petty segregation of the town’s cinema, the “Liberty” Picture Show was the last straw.

Watching their kids being herded down to the front seats, where they were roped off and had to crane their necks to see the screen, Isabel and Isobelle made the decision in 1961 to challenge the unspoken rules.

They marched up to the ticket box and demanded seats that had been reserved for whites only. Their action made the women and their families vulnerable to retribution at work and on the streets. But this local activism, which happened much earlier than the celebrated 1965 Freedom Ride led by Charles Perkins, later drew the attention of the university campaigners in north west NSW. As Isabel remembered it:

…I stood in front of the ticket office and I said: ‘I want you to come and fix this. Take these ropes off! What do you think we are? Our money is as good as anyone else’s and we want to sit where we want to sit’ … I was terrified when I stood up there … my poor little heart, I don’t know how it stayed in my chest, but it did. Even though I said it as calmly as I could, I was so sick within myself.
Isobelle joined Isabel and the pair stood their ground in front of the ticket seller.

And then he could see I was just going to stand there and keep standing there. Sometimes I think if he’d waited just a little bit longer, I’d have gone away. But then he said: ‘Oh, alright, you can sit anywhere then!’
Still frustrated by the poor health care and education offered to her people in the bush, Isabel brought her family to Sydney in the late 1960s, hoping to escape the suffocating racism of rural towns. She worked in the kitchen at Prince Alfred Hospital in Newtown while her partner, Aubrey Weatherall, worked in factories, but Sydney offered little relief from the racism.

What Isabel did find were allies. She got to know Aboriginal people from other places, with similar stories. And she met the city students and activists who were eager to learn about conditions in rural areas and to put their shiny new credentials as lawyers, archaeologists and doctors into effecting social change.

With these people, Isabel fostered strategies that could be put to work in rural areas to support and strengthen Aboriginal communities. And with some, Isabel built warm friendships of trust and confidence which lasted all her life. She had hoped to gain a better education for her children, but in the end, they felt that it had been Isabel who had learned the most from their time in Sydney.

Campaigning for a place of peace

By the time Isabel returned to Collarenebri, she had become a skilled and careful negotiator. After campaigning for Land Rights, she took up a job with Mangankali, the Aboriginal Housing company she helped found.

She was trying to achieve concrete outcomes – better housing, more equitable distribution of resources – but always had a recognition of the importance of the broader, symbolic issues. So, she paid a great deal of attention to the Aboriginal cemetery, in which many of the community had buried their loved ones, old and young.

The town cemetery was segregated – but the Aboriginal community had turned this into a strength, recording their family stories and carefully decorating, washing and caring for the graves in their cemetery over the years.

Many people, like Isabel, saw this tiny pocket of land as symbolic not only of community but of all the land they had lost. But the road to this cemetery was unreliable in wet weather, deepening the pain of loss when burials had to be delayed.

In one of the many extraordinary achievements of her life, Isabel developed a consensus among all the Collarenebri families that they would refuse government funding for any other project until it was available to upgrade this road. With so many families impoverished and suspicious of all government actions, it was terribly hard for Aboriginal people to refuse funds.

Their solid collective refusal to take funds for two funding rounds was astounding, demonstrating how deeply the community felt about the cemetery. The government relented, recognising the importance of the demand for reliable access – not only to this burial site but to this tiny corner of their land. The new and upgraded road was opened in 1983. Said Isabel:

The cemetery is a place where Murries can feel at peace, as we are surrounded by our loved ones in spirit and we are able to strengthen our affinity with our land.
After her retirement from the Land Council largely until her death in 2000, Isabel again took on wider roles, particularly focussing on the campaign to end Aboriginal Deaths in Custody and to recognise the right to safety of Aboriginal women and children. She was recognised in 1986 with an Order of Australia Medal. She was proud of this but her later recognition by the Collarenebri and Brewarrina communities with awards and then an Honorary Doctorate from Tranby, an Indigenous-controlled, post-secondary educational body, meant more to her.

The Order of Australia Medal was certainly useful in her continued campaigning. But when asked what OAM stood for, she would always joke, “It stands for ‘Old Aboriginal Moll’”.

Correction: the original version of this article had incorrect dates for the year of Isabel’s birth and death. Thank you to reader Andrew Katsis for alerting us to this.

Heather Goodall met Isabel in Sydney in the 1970s and worked with her in collaborative historical projects. Isabel asked Heather to assist in recording her life story, undertaken during the 1990s, then, after Isabel’s death in 2000, Isabel’s book was finished with assistance from her family.

Image 1: Isabel, on left, when she was working for Mangankali Housing Company, talking to politicians and/or bureaucrats on the Wollai, the Aboriginal reserve at Collarenebri. Family collection, provided to author.

Image 3: The group of children who were excluded from Collarenebri public school in 1938 as ‘too black’. The photo is from the Abo Call, an Aboriginal-edited newspaper that existed for six issues in 1938. Isabel is the shortest girl standing in the middle row. The tall boy behind her is Aub Weatherall, her future partner. Author provided

22/12/2025

22/12/2025

Massacre as political theatre: our shameful national response to Bondi

(Amy Remeikis and DeepCut News)

Politicians and the media have seized on the Bondi tragedy to drag Australia to the right.

In 2002, one of the architects of neoliberalism, Milton Friedman, updated his definitive work, Capitalism and Freedom, for its fortieth anniversary.

Introducing his work, Friedman made the point Naomi Klein later used as the foundation for her book, Shock Doctrine:

Only a crisis – actual or perceived – produces real change. When that crisis occurs, the actions that are taken depend on the ideas that are laying around. That, I believe, is our basic function: to develop alternatives to existing policies, to keep them alive and available until the politically impossible becomes politically inevitable.

Klein expanded on what she considered the shock doctrine formula in 2017:

Shock tactics follow a clear pattern: wait for a crisis (or even, in some instances, as in Chile or Russia, help foment one), declare a moment of what is sometimes called ‘extraordinary politics’, suspend some or all democratic norms – and then ram the corporate wishlist through as quickly as possible. The research showed that virtually any tumultuous situation, if framed with sufficient hysteria by political leaders, could serve this softening-up function.

In a recent Vanity Fair profile, US president Donald Trump’s chief of staff Susie Wiles put it more bluntly while talking about some of health secretary Robert F Kennedy Junior’s more insane ideas: “He pushes the envelope — some would say too far. But I say in order to get back to the middle, you have to push it too far.”

It’s rare to see power speak so plainly about how the right brings about change – push the envelope too far, and then bring it back to the “middle”, which of course has shifted right with the envelope.

We have witnessed some of the rawest and most blatant politics in response to the Bondi tragedy. Never before have Australians witnessed their alternative government blame their current government for a terrorist attack. In the midst of that, we have seen what the Jewish Council of Australia has called a “divisive pro-Israel wishlist” adopted as the only answer.

NSW premier Chris Minns has used the massacre to announce his government will adopt gun reform discussed at national cabinet as part of a major crackdown on protests. Neither Minns or his Liberal counterpart Kelly Sloane, who is in wholehearted agreement, have managed to explain how further limiting protest would make anyone safer or improve social cohesion.

In this environment, that doesn’t seem to matter. It also doesn’t seem to matter that until very recently, Minns had been pushing to make NSW’s gun laws even looser in a sweetheart deal with the Shooters and Fishers party, designed to make winning their vote in the upper chamber easier.

Queensland premier David Crisafulli won plaudits for coming out and criticising the immediate focus on gun laws — one of the only practical solutions a government could enact quickly — despite his government just a week earlier having to defend multiple meetings with representatives from the gun lobby, while it delayed implementing gun reform recommendations in the wake of the Wieambilla tragedy.

It doesn’t seem to matter that there is no evidence the men accused of the Bondi murders had any contact with the Palestine movement, or that no one can say how changing the definition of antisemitism to include criticism of Israel would have prevented the attack or made the Jewish community safer.

It only seems to matter what those who wanted those changes now think. They are the answers “lying around”, as Friedman put it; the answers which had been kept “alive and available” and have now become a political inevitability.

But at what cost?

Australia’s Jewish community had their worst fears realised and Australia has been shocked out of the idea that ‘these things don’t happen here’ in six minutes of terror, which targeted Jewish people celebrating one of their most sacred ceremonies. Two hate-filled men killed 15 people who had been honouring life, including a 10-year-old child, before they were stopped.

Strangers ran towards the sound of bullets to save strangers. Strangers shielded each other and unknown children, while frantic about their own loved ones. People saw their loved ones die. The fracture to the nation’s sense of safety will never truly heal. But unlike Port Arthur, the Lindt Cafe siege, the Bali bombings, or even the Cronulla riots, there was no political unity for the sake of the nation.

For the first time, Australia’s unspoken bipartisanship that the nation’s needs are more important than politics has fractured. Sussan Ley and other senior members of the Coalition blamed the Albanese government and anyone who had protested against a genocide for a terror attack, while simultaneously using it to demonise migrants.

By and large, Australia’s media immediately jumped on the comments that anti-genocide protesters must also share in the blame for the attack. The groupthink appears largely unexamined, given the lack of evidence and the multitude of voices urging caution. For some, it appears a way of clawing back some cultural relevancy, but it can also not be discounted that the loudest voices in this blame game were also among the most criticised for how they have handled coverage of the Palestinian protests.

It seems lost to these outlets and journalists that they are accusing their own audiences of sharing blame for the actions of two radicalised men. Equating the hundreds of thousands of people who have protested for a stronger stand against a genocide — a finding supported by legal experts, genocide scholars, and every major humanitarian organisation — with supporting a massacre is just as insane as using the massacre for political point-scoring and to set up a fight about migration.

And lest there be criticisms that this is just reporting the views of the Jewish community — who of course should be listened to — the voices within the Jewish community who have been urging calm, or expressing discomfort with how their grief is being weaponised are not receiving the same prominence.

“We share the government’s goal of confronting antisemitism and racism wherever they appear. This is a responsibility that belongs to all of us – government, institutions and communities”, said Sarah Schwartz, executive officer of the Jewish Council of Australia, late last week.

“Our grief should not be used as a political weapon, nor as an excuse to pursue agendas that divide communities. We urge the Prime Minister to reject voices which seek to use this response to divide us and pursue anti-immigration or pro-Israel agendas, and instead focus on what is needed to keep us, and all racialised communities, safe from violent acts of racism.”

John Howard’s comments that the Albanese government’s announcement of stricter gun laws was a “distraction” — despite admitting he had not seen the national cabinet plan beyond a few dot points relayed to him as he left the Sky News studios — were splashed across headlines and thinkpieces, using his authority as a ‘former prime minister’ to conclude Albanese was lost.

Another former prime minister, Malcolm Turnbull, who had pushed back against Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s statement that Australia’s recognition of Palestine had contributed to the terror attack (a charge without evidence, which also ignores that most of the world has recognised Palestine and had before October 7), and spoke of the difficulty in predicting ‘lone wolf’-style terror attacks, was not given the same prominence.

Declarative statements have abounded in media analysis without the need for evidence, a liberty rarely afforded to those outside the accepted opinion.

This way of thinking assumes that you cannot care about the loss of Jewish life if you care about the loss of Palestinian life, which is like saying you must choose between air and water. It assumes that people see life in binary terms, rather than feeling compassion and justice for all. It assumes most people hate. And while Australia has always struggled with acknowledging the hate that dwells in its society, antisemitism included, hate is not the default.

The ‘debate’ we have seen in the last week largely assumes it is. Pushing back against that assumption will take all of us.

22/12/2025

Revealed: Most Australian charities are profiling you without letting you know

(Cam Wilson and Crikey)

Most of Australia’s charity sector uses third-party data profiling services to label people, rank them, and even ‘predict’ whether they’ll donate or leave money in their will to the organisation — with almost no disclosure, an industry insider has revealed to Crikey.

Gabrielle Josling is a woman, probably. She is ambitious, well-educated and lives in the inner city. She is motivated by a sense of moral obligation, particularly when it comes to social and environmental causes.

Josling also has both the means and desire to donate money. She might be very likely to give. Or maybe she’s very difficult to convert into a donor.

You should ask her for at least $29. Or $36, $45. Even $50.

These are the things Australian charities know about Josling — or at least they think they do. Some of it is accurate, some not.

Usually this information is hidden in cloud computing server farms, but the real Josling — not the charities’ version of her — made it her mission to find out what Australia’s biggest and most trusted charities knew about her using a little-known part of Australian privacy laws.

What she found surprised even her, a data scientist who once worked in the industry: most of Australia’s charity sector uses third-party data profiling services to label people, rank them, and even “predict” whether they’ll donate or leave money in their will to the organisation.

This is happening with almost no disclosure, Josling has shared with Crikey.

The industry says that these are useful tools that can help build long and positive relationships with donors so that they can do the most good. Privacy advocates worry that donors have no idea charities are using sophisticated tools to target and manipulate them, while also training their AI models on that data.

How much will you give?

You’ve probably been asked to donate money recently. Charities know that Australians are more likely to give at Christmas than at any other time. Devastating news events like the Bondi Beach terrorist attack also prompt donations, as Australians look for ways to help those in need.

In fact, Australians are among the most charitable people in the world. When surveyed, three in five adults said that they’d donated to charity in the last month. Nineteen billion dollars was given to charities in 2023, a number that continues to grow year-on-year (although 2023’s number was bolstered by $4.9 billion given by Andrew and Nicola Forrest to the Minderoo Foundation).

One of the reasons for this growth is the increasing sophistication of the Australian not-for-profit sector’s approach to fundraising. Charities say they’re spending more on technical staff and infrastructure.

“Digital technology has become an essential tool to amplify limited resources for greater impact,” says a report released into the Australian charity industry’s use of technology by not-for-profit Infoxchange earlier this year.

Josling used to be on the front line of this industry, having spent years working for a household name in the Australian charity sector as a data scientist.

She knew that charities were increasingly using data to power their operations, often leaning on little-known third parties to help them out, and had concerns about how donor information was being used. So she set out to understand more.

Through 2025, Josling investigated 31 charities about their use of third-party profiling platforms and how transparent they were about this process — by both asking for her own personal data and asking the charities questions directly, filing formal data access requests, and studying privacy policies, case studies and job ads.

The results were shocking to her. Sixteen of them had profiled Josling based on data they’d gathered and gleaned. They had information including her name, email address, how often and when she visited their websites, even the fact that she kept looking at their privacy policy (and then flagging this as behaviour that might suggest potential fraudulent intentions). Ten of them even initially denied profiling her and didn’t disclose it when first asked.

But what surprised her most was that she found out that at least a majority of the charities — 18 of 31 — were using what she calls “commercial profiling” services to make sense of data that they had on people like her. These third-party companies take data provided to them by the charities, analyse it, and advise on how to get the most money out of the people analysed.

Despite the fact this was an industry-wide practice, it was nearly impossible to find out about. These charities did not clearly tell their donors they were using their data like this; many refused to answer questions about donor privacy, and some even denied profiling supporters until confronted with the evidence.

How charities rely on commercial providers to help get the most money out of you

Among those that acknowledged or were shown to be using commercial profiling tools, Australian-owned Dataro was by far the most popular, with 18 organisations using or previously having used it.

Dataro is an Australia-based AI fundraising platform that says it’s used by “300+ nonprofits in 20+ countries”. It sells “predictive-AI models” that it promises give “actionable insights that reveal preferences” and will “create precision-targeted audiences for specific fundraising asks and campaigns”.

Dataro CEO Tim Paris told Crikey that the company helps charities fundraise more effectively while taking privacy and security seriously.

“Charities exist to meet critical needs in our society, often with limited resources and in the face of increasing demand. To do that effectively, they need access to modern tools that help them to raise funds responsibly, reduce waste, and engage appropriately with their supporters,” he said in an emailed statement.

Charities can upload a whole array of data to Dataro: personal identifying information like name, contact details, and postcode, as well as financial transactions and “intent signals” like event attendance and volunteer activity.

Then, Dataro analyses this data and provides advice to charities in a number of ways. It ranks them on how likely they are to give to a charity, to become a regular donor, to churn off, or even to bequeath a gift in their will. It suggests how much to ask them for.

According to Dataro, the Australian Red Cross had a less than 1% chance of getting a gift from Josling or converting her into a regular giver. In fact, she was ranked 547,877th among supporters as someone who was likely to be a “mid-value giver”. However, she was ranked just 207,728th as someone who was likely to leave the organisation a gift in her will.

Dataro can also break a charity’s fundraising list into different segments of its supporters. It even offers to “target each donor with the content they want to see”.

Paris said this helps charities do the most good and avoid frustrating people: “These outputs are then used by charities to ensure they are only contacting donors with a good chance of responding, reducing wasted costs by not sending too many letters or making too many calls, and ensuring donors are not ‘spammed’ with communications that are not relevant to them.”

Josling’s data also showed the use of two other commercial profiling tools: data broker Experian’s “Mosaic”, and Roy Morgan’s “Helix”. These products take user data and sort it into “segments” with inferred characteristics. Josling, for example, was classified by Roy Morgan as “101 Bluechip” for WWF Australia, which defined her as being among a group “boasting the highest income and highest proportion of home ownership in the Leading Lifestyles Community, Bluechips are big spenders and live mostly in Sydney in separate houses.”

Trust, charities and informed consent

Charities consistently poll among the most trusted institutions in Australia, outstripping government and business. This trust is fundamental to their business, as charities literally rely on goodwill.

Key to maintaining that trust is good privacy practices, according to Australia’s privacy commissioner Carly Kind. The Office of the Australian Information Commissioner has put out guidelines for the charity sector, which includes advice for working with third-party providers.

Kind also highlights that charities remain responsible for the risks that come with handing over this data to third parties.

Industry group Fundraising Institute Australia, which has some guidelines for how its members should collect and use data for the donors, says it is reasonable to collect information on users as long as it’s limited to what is required.

“Our further guidance around best practice is that the charity’s privacy policy and collection statements should include a description of the data collected and for what purpose it’s collected and used,” CEO Katherine Raskob told Crikey in an email.

However, Josling said that only two of the charities that she confirmed used these services had clearly disclosed their use in their privacy policy. Others mentioned it in vague terms, and most did not mention it at all.

Former chair of the Australian Privacy Foundation and privacy advocate David Vaile said it’s unsurprising that charities have joined other sectors in obscuring or failing to disclose how their data is being used.

“There’s a massive crisis of abuse of the consent model of asking people to agree to things that they can’t possibly understand,” he told Crikey on the phone.

“Privacy policies and terms and conditions have become structures for turning off people’s cognitive radar, turning off their interest in it, or just making them feel like they can’t do anything about it,” he said.

Still, Vaile said, he expects more from charities that are “trading on their own good reputation and the good reputations of others in the sector.”

The risks of this approach became clear in 2023, when a telemarketing firm working with major charities suffered a data breach that exposed the personal information of thousands of donors. Introducing third parties into these relationships creates additional privacy risks, including hacking, misuse of data, and donors being unaware their information is being used in this way at all.

There are also questions about how this data is used once it’s given to third parties. For example, Dataro says it trains its model using pooled data from all charities using the platform. Although the data is described as de-identified, it is still used to train AI models that benefit other organisations. This means donors are unknowingly training third-party AI systems that are then used to target people like them, often without their knowledge or consent.

Paris emphasised that Dataro’s models are trained on non-personal, de-identified information, and that it does not link people’s data across charity data sets.

“For the vast majority of the charities we support, Dataro does not hold donor contact details at all, unless needed to support other activities like campaign creation, and we do not hold any sensitive or payment data. We also go to great lengths to provide model transparency and interpretability, so charities can understand the factors relevant to predicting particular outcomes,” he said.

Dataro also offers profiling of people who have never donated — such as those merely on an email list — raising further questions about whether these people have knowingly consented to the use of their data this way. The company even offers a tool that scans the internet to gather more information on high-value donors, expanding surveillance even further.

Taken together, this raises serious ethical and privacy concerns about how charities collect, share, and monetise personal data — largely without public awareness.

The fact that donors seem to be almost entirely unaware of this use of their data also means it’s near impossible for them to understand why charities might be treating them in certain ways, let alone challenge it.

In the mid-2010s, the UK charity sector was embroiled in a scandal over the targeting of vulnerable, often elderly, people with aggressive fundraising appeals (although these were primarily carried out by private fundraising firms connected to major charities).

Josling’s investigation into the various charities revealed some of the limits or issues facing analysis carried out by these third parties. When commercial providers infer certain characteristics, this information often contains errors or judgments, with little information on how that changes how a charity treats a donor.

Dataro’s recommendation to charities regarding how much to ask Josling for varied widely. Sometimes they were able to infer her gender from her name, other times not. In one case, Mission Australia flagged Josling as having “unusual behaviour” with “red flags regarding … legitimacy”, according to data that she received from them.

After spending months chasing these charities just to find out what they knew about her, Josling isn’t done yet. She’s filed more than a dozen complaints to the Office of the Australian Information Commissioner about what she believes is a regulatory failure, and continues to fight for information from some charities.

Josling believes that this saga reveals not just how widespread the practice of profiling is in the charity industry, but how Australia’s existing privacy framework does little to help inform the public, or even to let them know what others know about them.

“This is really invisible to donors. Even for me — coming from the sector, having a lot of knowledge of data practices and privacy and being, you know, decently cynical — it took quite a lot of work and persistence to extract this,” she said.

“I think a typical donor would just have no chance of understanding the full picture of how their data had been used.”