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Source: ForeignAffairs4

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Jason Wang, Postdoctoral Fellow, Modern Literature and Culture Research Centre, Toronto Metropolitan University

The scene at Gillette Stadium in Massachusetts on July 16 was steeped in irony.

During Coldplay’s “jumbotron song” — the concert segment where cameras pan over the crowd — the big screen landed on Andy Byron, then-CEO of data firm Astronomer, intimately embracing Kristin Cabot, the company’s chief people officer. Both are married to other people.

The moment, captured on video and widely circulated on social media, shows the pair abruptly recoiling as Coldplay’s lead singer Chris Martin says: “Either they’re having an affair or they’re just very shy.”

Martin’s comment — seemingly light-hearted at the time — quickly took on a different tone as online sleuths identified the pair and uncovered their corporate roles and marital statuses. Within days, Byron resigned from his position as CEO while Cabot is on leave.

This spectacle raises a deeper question: why does infidelity, especially among the powerful, provoke such public outcry. Literary tradition offers some insight: intimate betrayal is never truly private. It shatters an implicit social contract, demanding communal scrutiny to restore trust.

When trust crumbles publicly

French philosopher Paul Ricoeur’s notion of “narrative identity” suggests we make sense of our lives as unfolding stories. The promises we make (and break) become chapters of identity and the basis of others’ trust. Betrayal ruptures the framework that stitches private vows to public roles; without that stitch, trust frays.

Byron’s stadium exposure turned a marital vow into a proxy for professional integrity. Public betrayal magnifies public outcry because leaders symbolize stability; their personal failings inevitably reflect on their institutions.

When Astronomer’s board stated the expected standard “was not met,” they were lamenting the collapse of Byron’s narrative integrity — and, by extension, their company’s.

This idea — that private morality underpins public order — is hardly new. In Laws, ancient Greek philosopher Plato described adultery as a disorder undermining family and state. Roman philosopher Seneca called it a betrayal of nature, while statesman Cicero warned that breaking fides (trust) corrodes civic bonds.

The social cost of infidelity in literature

Literature rarely confines infidelity to the bedroom; its shockwaves fracture communities.

French sociologist Émile Durkheim’s idea of the “conscience collective” holds that shared moral norms create “social solidarity.” As literature demonstrates, violations of these norms inevitably undermines communal trust.

Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina (1875-77) dramatizes the social fracture of betrayal. Anna’s affair with Count Vronsky not only defies moral convention but destabilizes the aristocratic norms that once upheld her status.

As the scandal leads to her ostracization, Anna mourns the social world she has lost, realizing too late that “the position she enjoyed in society… was precious to her… [and] she could not be stronger than she was.”

In Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary (1857), Emma Bovary’s extramarital affairs unravel the networks of her provincial town, turning private yearning for luxury and romance into public contagion.

Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter (1850) makes this explicit: Hester Prynne’s scarlet “A” turns her sin into civic theatre. Public shaming on the scaffold, the novel suggests, delineates moral boundaries and seeks to restore social order — a process that prefigures today’s “digital pillories,” where viral moments subject individuals to mass online judgment and public condemnation.

Domestic crumbs and digital scaffolds

Contemporary narratives shift the setting but uphold the same principle: betrayal devastates the mundane rituals that build trust.

Nora Ephron’s autobiographical novel Heartburn (1983), based on her own marriage’s collapse to investigative journalist Carl Bernstein, weaponizes domesticity.

Heartburn’s protagonist Rachel Samstat delivers her emotions through recipes — “Vinaigrette” as a marker of intimacy and betrayal, “Lillian Hellman’s Pot Roast” as a bid for domestic stability and “Key Lime Pie,” hurled at her cheating husband — become symbols of a life undone by public infidelity.

Ephron’s satire, later adapted into a film, anticipates our digital age of exposure, where private pain fuels public consumption and judgment.

Jenny Offill’s Dept. of Speculation (2014), which draws from her own life, shows another perspective: betrayal as quiet erosion.

Offill never depicts the affair directly; instead, the husband’s absences, silences and an off-hand reference to “someone else” create a suffocating dread. This indirection shows betrayal’s power lies in its latent potential, slowly dismantling a life built on trust before any overt act.

Both works underscore betrayal’s impact on the collective conscience: a lie fractures a family as fundamentally as a CEO’s indiscretion erodes institutional trust. Power magnifies the fallout by turning private failings into public symbols of fragility. Even hidden betrayal poisons the shared rituals binding any group, making the notion of “private” unsustainable long before any public revelation.

The limits of power

Literature acknowledges power’s protective veneer from consequence — and its limits.

Theodore Dreiser’s Trilogy of Desire (1912–47), modelled on the Gilded Age robber baron Charles Yerkes, follows the rise of financier Frank Cowperwood, whose power shields him — until it doesn’t. Even his vast empire proves vulnerable once his adultery becomes public. The very networks that protected him grow wary.

Though many critics of the elite are themselves morally compromised in the trilogy, Cowperwood’s transgression becomes a weapon to discredit him. His brief exile shows that power may defer, but cannot erase, the costs of betrayal. Once trust fractures, even the powerful become liabilities. They do not fall less often — only more conspicuously.

Gender also plays a role in shaping these narratives. Male protagonists like Cowperwood rebound as tragic anti-heroes, their moral failings recast as flaws of character. By contrast, women — think Flaubert’s Emma Bovary or Hawthorne’s Hester Prynne — are branded cautionary figures, their transgressions stigmatized rather than mythologized.

This imbalance in assigning consequences reveals a deeper societal judgment: while broken trust demands repair, the path to restoration often depends on the transgressor’s gender.

The unblinking eye

From Tolstoy’s salons to TikTok’s scroll, literature offers no refuge from betrayal’s ripple effects. When private trust visibly fractures, communal reflexes kick in.

Scarlet letters, exile or a CEO’s resignation all aim to heal the collective trust. The jumbotron, like Hester’s scaffold, is the latest instrument in this age-old theatre of exposure.

Jumbotrons. Scaffolds. Same operating system. Same shame.

Jason Wang does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Caught on the jumbotron: How literature helps us understand modern-day public shaming – https://theconversation.com/caught-on-the-jumbotron-how-literature-helps-us-understand-modern-day-public-shaming-261638

Source: ForeignAffairs4

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Jennifer Raynor, Assistant Professor of Natural Resource Economics, University of Wisconsin-Madison

Marine protected areas cover more than 8% of the world’s oceans today, but they can get a bad rap as being protected on paper only.

While the name invokes safe havens for fish, whales and other sea life, these areas can be hard to monitor. High-profile violations, such as recent fishing fleet incursions near the Galapagos Islands and ships that “go dark” by turning off their tracking devices, have fueled concerns about just how much poaching is going undetected.

But some protected areas are successfully keeping illegal fishing out.

In a new global study using satellite technology that can track large ships even if they turn off their tracking systems, my colleagues and I found that marine protected areas where industrial fishing is fully banned are largely succeeding at preventing poaching.

What marine protected areas aim to save

Picture a sea turtle gliding by as striped butterfly fish weave through coral branches. Or the deep blue of the open ocean, where tuna flash like silver and seabirds wheel overhead.

These habitats, where fish and other marine life breed and feed, are the treasures that marine protected areas aim to protect.

A major threat to these ecosystems is industrial fishing.

These vessels can operate worldwide and stay at sea for years at a time with visits from refrigerated cargo ships that ferry their catch to port. China has an extensive global fleet of ships that operate as far away as the coast of South America and other regions.

The global industrial fishing fleet – nearly half a million vessels – hauls in about 100 million metric tons of seafood each year. That’s about a fivefold increase since 1950, though it has been close to flat for the past 30 years. Today, more than one-third of commercial fish species are overfished, exceeding what population growth can replenish.

When well designed and enforced, marine protected areas can help to restore fish populations and marine habitats. My previous work shows they can even benefit nearby fisheries because the fish spill over into surrounding areas.

That’s why expanding marine protected areas is a cornerstone of international conservation policy. Nearly every country has pledged to protect 30% of the ocean by 2030.

Big promises – and big doubts

But what “protection” means can vary.

Some marine protected areas ban industrial fishing. These are the gold standard for conservation, and research shows they can be effective ways to increase the amount of sea life and diversity of species.

However, most marine protected areas don’t meet that standard. While governments report that more than 8% of the global ocean is protected, only about 3% is actually covered by industrial fishing bans. Many “protected” areas even allow bottom trawling, one of the most destructive fishing practices, although regulations are slowly changing.

The plentiful fish in better-protected areas can also attract poachers. In one high-profile case, a Chinese vessel was caught inside the Galápagos Marine Reserve with 300 tons of marine life, including 6,000 dead sharks, in 2017. This crew faced heavy fines and prison time. But how many others go unseen?

Shining a light on the ‘dark fleet’

Much of what the world knows about global industrial fishing comes from the automatic identification system, or AIS, which many ships are required to use. This system broadcasts their location every few seconds, primarily to reduce the risk of collisions at sea. Using artificial intelligence, researchers can analyze movement patterns in these messages to estimate when and where fishing is happening.

But AIS has blind spots. Captains can turn it off, tamper with data or avoid using it entirely. Coverage is also spotty in busy areas, such as Southeast Asia.

New satellite technologies are helping to see into those blind spots. Synthetic aperture radar can detect vessels even when they’re not transmitting AIS. It works by sending radar pulses to the ocean surface and measuring what bounces back. Paired with artificial intelligence, it reveals previously invisible activity.

Synthetic aperture radar still has limits – primarily difficulty detecting small boats and less frequent coverage than AIS – but it’s still a leap forward. In one study of coastal areas using both technologies, we found in about 75% of instances fishing vessels detected by synthetic aperture radar were not being tracked by AIS.

New global analysis shows what really happens

Two studies published in the journal Science on July 24, 2025, use these satellite datasets to track industrial fishing activity in marine protected areas.

Our study looked just at those marine protected areas where all industrial fishing is explicitly banned by law.

We combined AIS vessel tracking, synthetic aperture radar satellite imagery, official marine protected area rules, and implementation dates showing exactly when those bans took effect. The analysis covers nearly 1,400 marine protected areas spanning about 3 million square miles (7.9 million square kilometers) where industrial fishing is explicitly prohibited.

The results were striking:

• Most of these protected areas showed little to no signs of industrial fishing.

• We detected about five fishing vessels per 100,000 square kilometers on average in these areas, compared to 42 on average in unprotected coastal areas.

• 96% had less than one day per year of alleged illegal fishing effort.

The second study uses the same AIS and synthetic aperture radar data to examine a broader set of marine protected areas – including many that explicitly allow fishing. They document substantial fishing activity in these areas, with about eight times more detections than in the protected areas that ban industrial fishing.

Combined, these two studies lead to a clear conclusion: Marine protected areas with weak regulations see substantial industrial fishing, but where bans are in place, they’re largely respected.

We can’t tell whether these fishing bans are effective because they’re well enforced or simply because they were placed where little fishing happened anyway. Still, when violations do occur, this system offers a way for enforcement agencies to detect them.

A reason for optimism

These technological advances in vessel tracking have the potential to reshape marine law enforcement by significantly reducing the costs of monitoring.

Agencies such as national navies and coast guards no longer need to rely solely on costly physical patrols over huge areas. With tools such as the Global Fishing Watch map, which makes vessel tracking data freely available to the public, they can monitor activity remotely and focus patrol efforts where they’re needed most.

That can also have a deterrent effect. In Costa Rica’s Cocos Island National Park, evidence of illegal fishing activity decreased substantially after the rollout of satellite and radar-based vessel tracking. Similar efforts are strengthening enforcement in the Galapagos Islands and Mexico’s Revillagigedo National Park.

Beyond marine protected areas, these technologies also have the potential to support tracking a broad range of human activities, such as oil slicks and deep-sea mining, making companies more accountable in how they use the ocean.

Jennifer Raynor receives funding from National Geographic Pristine Seas. She is a trustee at Global Fishing Watch, one of the primary data providers for this study.

– ref. We tracked illegal fishing in marine protected areas – satellites and AI show most bans are respected, and could help enforce future ones – https://theconversation.com/we-tracked-illegal-fishing-in-marine-protected-areas-satellites-and-ai-show-most-bans-are-respected-and-could-help-enforce-future-ones-252800