One of the more curious developments in modern journalism is that some journalists appear remarkably uninterested in reading criticism of their own work.
That may sound unfair. Journalists receive criticism every day. Politicians receive criticism every day. Farmers involved with advocacy receive criticism every day. Anyone who spends time in public life quickly develops a thick skin because there is always somebody willing to explain why you are wrong, biased, compromised or simply an idiot.
Most of that criticism can safely be ignored.
What separates serious criticism from background noise, however, is the quality of the person making the argument and the effort they have put into making it.
Which brings me back to Ros Thomas and her recent Weekend Australian feature on paraquat and Parkinson’s disease.
I have already written at length about the article itself. Readers can decide for themselves whether it was balanced, whether it fairly represented the science and whether it devoted sufficient attention to the practical realities facing modern grain growers. The paraquat debate will continue long after both Ros and I have moved on to other topics.
What interests me more is what happened after publication.
Following the article, Mark Fowler, President of the WAFarmers Grains Council, successful grain grower, former senior London lawyer and somebody who has spent much of his professional life examining evidence for a living, sat down and prepared both a detailed letter to the editor and a substantial opinion article responding to Ros’s piece.
This was not a social media rant. It was not a press release. It was not a late-night emotional reaction.
It was a carefully argued critique from somebody who understands both science and evidence and who was prepared to put his name and reputation behind his argument.
Readers might agree with Mark. Readers might disagree with Mark.
That is not really the point.
The point is that any journalist genuinely interested in understanding a complex issue would surely be curious enough to read the response.
After all, if somebody spends four thousand words constructing a case and a former lawyer spends another thousand explaining where he believes that case falls short, most intellectually curious people would at least wonder what the other side had to say.
Apparently curiosity is not what it used to be.
Mark Fowler is not someone to be casually dismissed in this debate. He is a respected industry leader, a successful farmer and somebody who spent years analysing evidence in a legal environment where arguments rise and fall on facts rather than emotions.
Yet there appeared to be remarkably little interest in engaging with his response.
What followed was a series of text messages that left me increasingly puzzled.
One of the more interesting arrived from Dr David Blacker, the neurologist who featured prominently in Ros’s article and who has become one of Australia’s most recognised advocates for further scrutiny of paraquat.
His email surprised me.
“I think both our positions have been exaggerated in the recent article in The Weekend Australia,” he wrote.
He went on to say he agreed with much of my response, particularly around the complexity of the issue and the need for collaborative approaches.
Now that struck me as genuinely interesting.
Not because Dr Blacker had suddenly become a defender of paraquat. Not because he had changed his broader concerns. But because one of the principal sources in the article was effectively saying the positions of both sides had been simplified.
That observation goes directly to the criticism many farmers made of the article itself. The issue was never whether Parkinson’s disease is a terrible illness. It plainly is. The issue was whether a complicated debate involving epidemiology, toxicology, regulation, agricultural production and risk management had been reduced into something far simpler than reality.
Naturally I forwarded the email to Ros and sought her thoughts.
I also asked a broader question about the distinction between balanced journalism and what increasingly appears to be active journalism.
The response came back quickly enough.
Ros advised that she had offered Dr Blacker a right of review of the article, which he had apparently chosen not to exercise.
That was interesting because it demonstrated a willingness to have facts corrected prior to publication. I pointed out that no similar opportunity had been offered to our side of the argument and that no serious effort appeared to have been made to seek comment from the relevant national peak bodies such as Grain Producers Australia, the National Farmers’ Federation or CropLife Australia. These would have seemed the logical organisations to contact rather than relying on the CEO of a state farming organisation who happened to answer the phone while sitting at the back of an NFF meeting in Canberra.
Her response was dismissive.
“If you need to check my journalistic credentials, go to rosthomas.com.au.”
I replied that I did not think either of us needed to compare CVs, degrees, board positions, professional experience or journalistic credentials. No doubt all our CVs are groaning under the weight of past achievements. Mark Fowler’s, as a former senior lawyer, probably eclipse both of ours. What matters is not the length of the biography at the end of the article but the quality of the evidence presented and whether readers are given a fair understanding of the scientific uncertainty that exists. That is why I asked whether she considered the article fair and balanced.
The response came back. A dismissive one line;
“No need for reflection. Story fair and balanced.”
I have thought about that response quite a bit over the past week because it seems to capture something much larger than a disagreement over paraquat.
There was no need for reflection.
Not much room for curiosity there. Not much room for uncertainty. Not much room for the possibility that somebody else might possess information worth considering. Most importantly, not much room for the possibility that the story itself might have benefited from greater complexity.
The old investigative journalists I grew up reading were many things, but certainty was rarely one of them.
They were sceptical of governments. They were sceptical of corporations. They were sceptical of lobby groups. They were sceptical of activists. Most importantly, they were sceptical of themselves.
They understood that intelligent people can look at exactly the same evidence and reach very different conclusions. Indeed, that is often where the most interesting journalism begins.
Ros Thomas has spent much of her career in current affairs journalism, a world where every producer understands the old industry saying that “if it bleeds, it leads”. Human tragedy attracts audiences. Victims attract audiences. Conflict attracts audiences. A story involving a devastating disease, grieving families, multinational chemical companies and regulators accused of failing the public practically writes itself.
Unfortunately, the skills required to construct a compelling narrative are not always the same skills required to examine a contested scientific question.
Current affairs television often simplifies complexity.
Investigative journalism is supposed to do the opposite.
Perhaps that explains why so many readers finished the article feeling they had been presented with a conclusion rather than an investigation.
Indeed, had the piece appeared in the opinion pages alongside Janet Albrechtsen, Peta Credlin, Chris Kenny or Greg Sheridan, readers would have known exactly what they were getting. Opinion writers are entitled to prosecute a case. They are paid to have opinions. Nobody expects otherwise.
The difficulty is that Ros’s article appeared as a feature, carrying the implied authority of investigation rather than advocacy. Yet I suspect many readers finished it with the distinct impression that the verdict had already been reached before the jury entered the room.
The irony is that uncertainty was always the most interesting part of the story.
If paraquat clearly caused Parkinson’s disease there would be no debate. If paraquat clearly did not cause Parkinson’s disease there would be no debate. The reason scientists continue arguing, regulators continue reviewing evidence and journalists continue writing articles is because the answer remains contested.
That uncertainty should be irresistible to a genuine investigative journalist.
Instead, it appeared to be treated as an inconvenience.
The paraquat debate will continue. Scientists will keep arguing. Regulators will keep reviewing evidence. Farmers will continue growing food. Activists will continue campaigning.
What concerns me more is what happens when journalists lose interest in hearing from informed people who disagree with them.
Because once journalists stop asking whether they might have missed something, they quietly cease being investigators and become defenders of a position.
For a profession built on asking questions, that seems a remarkably dangerous place to end up.
==
Paraquat deserves a scientific debate. Not a trial by anecdote.
By Mark Fowler, President of the WAFarmers Grains Council – 4 June 2026
Ros Thomas’s recent Weekend Australian article on paraquat and Parkinson’s disease has reignited a debate that has been running for decades. The stories of farmers living with Parkinson’s are deeply moving and deserve both compassion and careful consideration. The question, however, is not whether Parkinson’s disease causes immense suffering. It clearly does. The question is whether the available scientific evidence demonstrates that paraquat causes the disease.
The central impression left with readers was that paraquat has effectively been proven to cause Parkinson’s disease and that regulators have somehow failed to act. That is not an accurate reflection of the facts.
After decades of research, the question of whether paraquat causes Parkinson’s disease remains contested. Numerous studies have examined the issue. Some have reported statistical associations between paraquat exposure and Parkinson’s disease, while others have found little or no evidence of a relationship. The challenge is distinguishing correlation from causation.
A farmer who develops Parkinson’s disease after using paraquat may genuinely believe the chemical caused the illness. That belief is understandable. It is not, however, scientific proof.
Many of the farmers highlighted in media reports spent their careers working with a vast range of agricultural chemicals. Some would have been exposed to products such as DDT and other compounds that have long since disappeared from Australian agriculture. Many also worked during an era when protective equipment, application technology and chemical handling standards were vastly different from those employed today.
When a disease develops decades after exposure, isolating one chemical from a lifetime of occupational, environmental and genetic influences becomes extraordinarily difficult. That is precisely why epidemiological evidence must be assessed carefully and comprehensively.
What is often missing from public discussion is that some of the most comprehensive reviews of the evidence have concluded that a causal relationship has not been established[1]. These assessments have highlighted significant methodological limitations in studies reporting associations, the absence of a consistent exposure-response relationship, and the lack of evidence necessary to satisfy accepted criteria for causation.
They also recognise that a lot of the research and lobbying in this area has been influenced by litigation funders in the US trying to influence legislative and judicial outcomes in other countries.
While individual studies continue to be debated, the broader body of evidence has not demonstrated that paraquat causes Parkinson’s disease.
That does not mean paraquat has been proven safe in every respect. It means that the science remains more complicated than many campaigners would like to acknowledge.
The article also highlighted an important fact that undermines its own central theory: Parkinson’s disease is increasing globally.
The disease is rising in countries with vastly different agricultural systems, vastly different chemical use patterns and, in many cases, little or no meaningful exposure to paraquat. If Parkinson’s disease is increasing across diverse populations throughout the world, then the explanation is likely to involve multiple factors rather than a single herbicide.
Yet readers were encouraged to draw precisely the opposite conclusion.
Equally concerning was the selective nature of the evidence presented. Journalists naturally seek compelling human stories, and there is nothing wrong with that. But a handful of case studies cannot substitute for the totality of scientific evidence.
One could just as easily find thousands of Australian farmers who have used paraquat for decades and have never developed Parkinson’s disease. That fact alone does not prove paraquat is harmless. Equally, the existence of farmers who developed Parkinson’s after using paraquat does not prove the opposite.
The role of journalism should be to present the broader evidentiary picture rather than elevating anecdotes above science.
There was also a tendency to treat toxicity as though it were, by itself, grounds for prohibition. This reflects a fundamental misunderstanding of how modern risk regulation works.
Many industries depend upon products that are inherently hazardous. The mining industry uses cyanide. Transport companies operate heavy vehicles capable of causing catastrophic harm if used improperly. Farmers routinely use machinery that can kill in an instant. We do not ban these activities simply because they involve risk. We manage that risk through training, regulation, engineering controls and safe operating procedures.
Paraquat is unquestionably toxic. That fact is neither new nor disputed. The question is whether it can be used safely within a modern regulatory framework.
Australian regulators have repeatedly examined that question. Their role is not to determine whether a substance is dangerous in absolute terms. Their role is to determine whether risks can be managed appropriately under Australian conditions.
Reasonable people may disagree with those regulatory conclusions. What they should not do is pretend the conclusions were reached without scientific scrutiny.
The discussion also revealed a broader misunderstanding of modern farming systems.
Paraquat is valued because it remains one of a limited number of effective tools for controlling weeds, particularly in conservation farming systems. These systems reduce soil disturbance, minimise erosion, improve moisture retention and deliver significant environmental benefits. Removing any major weed-control tool inevitably involves trade-offs that deserve honest discussion.
Those trade-offs were largely absent from the debate.
Perhaps most disappointing was the reliance on stories describing farming practices from decades ago. Accounts involving open-cab tractors, limited protective equipment and rudimentary safety procedures are understandably confronting. They are also completely unrepresentative of contemporary Australian agriculture.
Modern chemical handling bears little resemblance to practices that occurred 30, 40 or 50 years ago. Today’s farmers operate under stringent regulatory requirements, mandatory training obligations, sophisticated application technology and extensive personal protective equipment requirements.
Historical anecdotes should not be presented as though they accurately reflect current practice.
None of this is to suggest that questions about paraquat should not be asked. Scientific scrutiny is entirely appropriate. Continued research is essential. Regulators should continue to review emerging evidence and adjust policy where necessary.
But public debate is poorly served when a complex scientific question is reduced to a morality play featuring villains and victims.
The Australian public deserves a discussion grounded in evidence, context and intellectual honesty.
On paraquat, that means acknowledging a reality often lost in public debate: after decades of investigation, the science remains contested, the regulatory questions remain difficult and the consequences of getting the answer wrong are significant.
That is not a reason to stop asking questions.
It is a reason to ask them carefully.
[1] Weed, D., 2024. Paraquat and Parkinson’s Disease: A Systematic Assessment of Recent Epidemiologic Evidence. The European Society of Medicine, Medical Research Archives, 12(9). https://esmed.org/MRA/mra/article/view/5767
