If you’ve ever found yourself cringing when your child suddenly starts talking in a high-pitched, baby-like voice, you’re not alone.
Many parents and caregivers find this behaviour jarring — and yes, a little bit annoying.
Why do older children sometimes revert to baby talk? And what can you do to manage it?
Why do kids use a baby voice?
Children may revert to speaking like a baby when they are seeking comfort, affection and reassurance.
For children, being a baby reminds them of a time when they were safe, and all their needs were taken care of. When they revert to using a baby voice, they are signalling to us they’re feeling vulnerable, tired, stressed, uncertain or overwhelmed, and are wanting more connection and practical help from us.
Most regressions are normal, and very common. In fact, healthy learning and development is never perfectly linear. This is reflected in nature, where there are cycles of rapid growth followed by periods of rest and dormancy. After a burst of development, children can be tired, or miss having the same level of support from us.
Children are also more likely to use a baby voice when they’re managing a change or stressful life event. For example, the birth of a new baby in the family, starting school, moving house, or parents separating, are common times when children need more support.
Using baby talk could be a sign your child is feeling stressed or vulnerable. Fizkes/Shutterstock
Help! Why is a baby voice so annoying?
As parents and carers, it can be confusing and grating when our older, capable child seems to be moving backwards in development, and using a voice they used many years ago.
Parents might associate a baby voice with neediness, or immaturity, and feel anxious about what this means for their child’s development.
In the past, this behaviour was viewed as a problem.
So the advice was to ignore it and only respond when children use their normal voice. However, this can can create shame in our child and make them afraid to express their feelings and needs.
If your child is using a baby voice, they may need more comforting and attention. Media_Photos/ Shutterstock
Tips for managing baby voice
Developmentally, there’s no problem with children occasionally using a baby voice, so we don’t need to try to stop this behaviour.
Instead, we can be curious. What might be happening for our child?
1. Acknowledge their feelings: we can empathise with, validate and accept our child’s underlying emotions. And then try to meet their need for safety and connection. We might say:
Oh my love, sounds like you’re finding everything hard today, and can’t manage putting your shoes on? Are you feeling tired?
2. Meet their needs: if they’re wanting extra help or connection, we should give it. We can think of this as a “refuelling” pit stop – they might need a little extra care as they manage their current stage of development, or cope with a change. We can say:
I’d love to help you put your shoes on, let’s do it together. How about you do the socks, and I’ll tie your laces?
3. Be kind to yourself: if your child’s baby voice is getting on your nerves, it’s understandable, and normal. Providing extra care can be taxing, and sometimes it’s hard to find that extra energy. We can remind our child that we all need rest.
I hear you’re so tired today and want my help. The problem is I’m feeling so tired too! I wonder if we can help each other? Can we start with a big cuddle?
Depending on age, this might include lost skills related to language and communication, walking and balance, self-care (such as dressing, toileting), sleeping, or becoming more clingy, having meltdowns and losing interest in interacting or playing with others.
Elizabeth Westrupp receives funding from the National Health and Medical Research Council. She is affiliated with the Parenting and Family Research Alliance, and is a registered clinical psychologist.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Gregory Moore, Senior Research Associate, School of Agriculture, Food and Ecosystem Sciences, The University of Melbourne
I have never really been interested in ghosts, mummies or zombies, not even at Halloween. But as October 31 approaches each year I am reminded of a biological tale involving all three. It’s the real-life horror story of a flesh-eating, brain-warping fungus from the genus Cordyceps, which inspired the zombie-apocalypse video game and TV seriesThe Last of Us.
Worldwide, there are hundreds of species of Cordyceps. Most of them prey on insects. They’re famous for hijacking the brains of some ants. Once the fungus takes over, it directs the ant to climb to a high point on a plant and then bite down on the stem or twig in a macabre death grip. The reproductive structures of this parasitic fungus will soon burst out of the ant’s head, spreading its spores to infect another unsuspecting host.
But the species with which I am most familiar (Cordyceps gunnii) doesn’t attack ants – it parasitises insects such as rather large “ghost” caterpillars. This species doesn’t force its victims to climb, but takes control when they are buried in the soil.
You might spot a grotesque-looking dead caterpillar pushing up through the earth as if rising from the grave, with a large fungal growth emerging from its head. Some are about the size of an adult finger, but cream and dark brown in colour. It is truly a thing that could trigger nightmares.
‘Zombie’ Parasite Cordyceps Fungus Takes Over Insects Through Mind Control | National Geographic.
Consuming the ghostly host
Unsuspecting insects become infected with Cordyceps when they eat them by mistake, or when spores attach to their bodies.
The caterpillar of the Australian ghost moth (Abantiades labrynthicus) tends to burrow straight down into the soil to graze on roots of gum trees and some other species related to eucalypts. So it probably picks up the fungus as it burrows into the earth. The fungus then penetrates the exoskeleton or digestive tract of the insect with a thin, needle-like tube.
Once inside the caterpillar, the fungus starts to grow rapidly. It produces very fine threads (hyphae) that spread through the body of the insect, replacing its structure. The fungus expands to fill the available space, assuming ultimate control. Exactly how the fungus takes control of the insect brain is not fully understood, but we know the fungus produces a range of chemicals that influence the brain in a way that meets the environmental and reproductive needs of the fungus.
The caterpillar is doomed as soon as the fungus starts to grow inside it. After being taken over by another life form, the zombie caterpillar dies. All of this happens out of sight, under the soil surface.
But Cordyceps is not done with the caterpillar just yet. It consumes all the resources the insect can offer, then pushes antler-like reproductive structures out through the caterpillar’s head. These spore-producing structures can be more than 10cm long. They’re clearly visible above ground, but can be hard to spot as they look a bit like a twig. Wind carries the spores to infect more unwary caterpillars.
These fungus-filled caterpillars are now fully mummified. Nothing remains of the caterpillar but a brittle exoskeleton.
As the reproductive structures dry and wither, they gently tug on the mummy to which they are still attached. If the soil is dry, the now empty exoskeleton of the caterpillar emerges from its hole. As it does so, the fungal reproductive structures are often lost and all you see remaining is the empty husk.
The Last of Us: Could it happen? Infectious disease doctor explains cordyceps (UC Davis Health).
Half animal, half vegetable
Members of the genus Cordyceps boast the unusual common name of vegetable caterpillars. This strange name comes from a belief, which persisted until the 1800s, that the caterpillars had somehow transformed from insects to fungi, or from animal to plant.
This was a much debated and widely written about example of transmutation, a theory that was not uncommon in pre-Darwinian times. It was not until the early 1900s that the true, full and gruesome nature of the relationship between Cordyceps and its insect victims was revealed.
On the lookout for Cordyceps
Cordyceps gunnii is the most commonly seen species of vegetable caterpillar in southeastern Australia, found in several states.
Another less conspicuous species, the fawn vegetable caterpillar, Cordyceps hawkesii, occurs along Autralia’s east coast, often under wattles, but is even harder to see. Naturalists hunting for this vegetable caterpillar often find they have already inadvertently trampled over it before they spot it.
Yet another species, Cordyceps taylori, can also be regularly seen emerging from large ghost moth caterpillars in Victoria. When the husks of these dead, mummified caterpillars appear to emerge from their holes in the ground, they look particularly striking.
The classification of these vegetable caterpillar fungi is still being debated by experts. It is likely not all are closely related. Some are now placed in a new genus, Ophiocordyceps, but regardless of the name, they are all capable of making zombies and mummies of their victims.
You can join in the process of hunting for and mapping these elusive species through citizen science projects such as he Great Aussie Fungi Hunt or iNaturalist Australia.
Traditional medicines and the vegetable caterpillar
As Halloween approaches, you may be wondering whether humans need worry about being zombified and mummified by Cordyceps fungi. Could the naturalists hunting the vegetable caterpillars become the hunted? The answer is a resounding no. In fact, the opposite is true – these macabre creatures have a long history in traditional medicine.
Cordyceps sinensis, a Chinese vegetable caterpillar very similar to C. gunnii, has been used in traditional medicine for centuries. Modern research shows there may be benefits from its use (or extracts from it) in treatments associated with autoimmune responses. While the fungus has been cultivated for about 40 years, naturally growing, wild fungi can be very expensive as they are still relatively rare and difficult to find. A kilogram can retail for A$30,000, driving a fungal gold rush across the Himalayas.
Members of the genus Coryceps, or more correctly the Ophiocordyceps genus, have been around for more than 45 million years. Despite their depiction in The Last of Us, humans have nothing to worry about. The fungi are quite particular about their victims. But if you are a certain species of ant or ghost moth, then Halloween may take on a whole new meaning.
Gregory Moore 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.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Carol Johnson, Emerita Professor, Department of Politics and International Relations, University of Adelaide
Having a female presidential candidate has made gender obvious in this US presidential election, even to many who normally neglect its role. The specific contest between Kamala Harris and Donald Trump, along with the prominence of issues such as abortion, has resulted in a particularly large gender voting gap. Far more women have consistently indicated support for Harris and far more men for Trump.
However, gender has always been crucial in US presidential elections, not just because of gender voting patterns but because competing performances of masculinity have always played a major role.
Role of masculinity in 2020 election
The last presidential election saw Joe Biden’s form of kind and caring protective masculinity being explicitly contrasted with Trump’s divisive, hyper-masculine one.
Furthermore, strong male leaders are meant to protect the people from physical, social and economic harm. I have argued that one factor that contributed to Trump’s 2020 electoral defeat was a protective masculinity failure, especially in regard to COVID.
For example, former President Barack Obama argued that, unlike Biden, Trump could not be counted on to protect Americans:
Eight months into this pandemic, new cases are breaking records. Donald Trump isn’t going to suddenly protect all of us. He can’t even take the basic steps to protect himself […]. Joe understands […] that the first job of a president is to keep us safe from all threats: domestic, foreign, and microscopic.
Trump’s re-energised protective masculinity
However, since his 2020 electoral defeat, Trump has resurrected himself as a strong masculine protector. He claims that “our enemies” are trying to use legal charges to take away his freedom and silence him because he “will always stand” in the way of their attempt to silence the American people and take away their freedom.
I am your warrior. I am your justice. And for those who have been wronged and betrayed: I am your retribution. I will totally obliterate the deep state.
Trump has long appealed to men who feel that traditional masculinity, and its related entitlements, are under threat.
He is currently courting white males, the youth manosphere, “techno bros”, “crypto bros”, conservative male unionists threatened by globalisation and offshoring, and conservative black and Latino men.
He has been explicitly mobilising misogyny, including by making lewd references to Harris. JD Vance has assisted Trump’s efforts.
Nonetheless, Trump claims that he will be a strong male protector of women, protecting them from illegal immigrants, crime, foreign threats and other anxieties:
You will be protected and I will be your protector. Women will be happy, healthy, confident and free.
Trump has even promised that, as a result, women “will no longer be thinking about abortion.” This is all despite his own alleged history of sexual assault.
Harris, gender and the women’s vote
By 2024, Biden’s apparent physical and cognitive decline meant that he was no longer a convincing masculine protector (or viable ongoing presidential candidate).
The choice of Harris as his replacement candidate had advantages, but it was also a gamble given the combined roles of gender and race. After all, despite the long history of US racism, it still proved easier to elect a black man (Obama) to the presidency than a white woman (Hillary Clinton).
However, the women’s vote is particularly important this election. As well as Harris’ appeal to younger and black women, Democrats have emphasised the importance of her appeal to white women, including some who previously voted Republican. Anti-Trump Republicans such as Liz Cheney are assisting Harris in appealing to the latter.
Issues such as abortion are crucial. The overturning of Roe v Wade abortion rights, enabled by Trump stacking the Supreme Court, also puts IVF at risk by not clarifying when life begins (with implications for frozen embryos). Senate Republicans have twice blocked a vote on a Democrat-led bill designed to protect IVF. Harris has pledged to sign a law protecting abortion rights (if Congress passes it).
Trump claims he supports IVF, won’t bring in a national ban on abortion and believes in abortion “exceptions for rape, incest, and life of the mother”.
However, Trump Republicans are courting, and influenced by, the American religious right on abortion. There aren’t such exceptions in several Republican states, as Harris’s heartrending accounts of the impact on women and their health reveals. Furthermore, Missouri, Kansas and Idaho are also trying to drastically reduce legal access to the abortion drug mifepristone.
Harris also emphasises other issues of particular significance for women, such as affordable childcare and better pay for care workers.
Harris and “tonic” masculinity
Given the role of competing masculinities in US presidential elections, Harris’ campaign has intentionally appealed to a very different form of protective masculinity from Trump’s.
Vice presidential candidate, Tim Walz’s, “America’s dad” image (of being a warm, caring but sports loving coach, national guard serving, gun owning, hunter) is used to contrast his “tonic masculinity” with Trump’s “toxic” masculinity. Harris’s husband, Doug Emhoff, is depicted as a supportive “wife-guy” who has “reshaped the perception of masculinity” (while strongly denying allegations he once slapped a woman).
Despite conservative claims of men being economically left behind, the Biden/Harris administration argues it has revitalised manufacturing and male jobs along with it and Harris will continue to do so. Meanwhile, Obama has urged black men to get behind Harris and the Harris campaign has highlighted its policies benefiting black men.
Can Harris mobilise protective femininity?
Given the major role of gender in US presidential elections, a key issue is whether Harris can successfully evoke a caring, motherly, protective femininity that promises security and economic benefits to voters and helps to counter Trump’s protective masculinity.
Other women politicians have been able to (for example, Germany’s Angela Merkel). Women leaders particularly mobilised protective femininity during the COVID health crisis (for example, New Zealand’s Jacinda Ardern). However, it always seemed likely masculinist leadership stereotypes would re-emerge once the economy needed rebuilding after the pandemic.
Harris has pledged she will “create an opportunity economy” and “protect our fundamental rights and freedoms, including the right of a woman to make decisions about her own body and not have her government tell her what to do”. She promises to be the kind of president “who cares about you and is not putting themselves first”. Whether such electoral pitches are successful remains to be seen.
Why the outcome of this election is crucial for gender equality.
A woman US president is long overdue after 46 male ones. A Trump victory would have major implications for abortion, IVF and women’s rights generally, including progress on the Biden/Harris National Strategy on Gender Equity and Equality. Immigrant and black women will be particularly vulnerable. A Trump victory would also have major implications for which models of masculinity are publicly endorsed.
A Trump victory would embolden conservative so-called anti-gender ideology campaigns. The Trump campaign has recently spent US $21 million (A$31.9 million) on ads associating Harris with LGBTIQ+ equality, especially transgender rights.
The Trump campaign asserts that “Kamala’s for they/them. President Trump is for you.” While Trump has also pledged that “we will get critical race theory and transgender insanity the hell out of our schools.”
A Trump victory will influence the future US economy, including risking increasing gender inequality in an Elon Musk-style unregulated technopoly.
Finally, academic commentators have drawn attention to the way in which socially conservative views on gender have been mobilised to support new forms of authoritarian regimes in Europe and elsewhere.
In short, this presidential election is a crucial one for the American people generally, but for the female half of the population in particular.
Carol Johnson 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.
The government-appointed inquiry into Australia’s COVID response has warned public trust won’t be so high in a future pandemic and people would be unlikely to accept again many of the measures taken.
“That means there is a job to be done to rebuild trust, and we must plan a response based on the Australia we are today, not the Australia we were before the pandemic,” the report released on Tuesday said.
The inquiry was conducted by former NSW public servant Robyn Kirk, epidemiologist Catherine Bennett, and economist Angela Jackson. It examined the health and economic responses; while it did not directly delve into the state responses, it did cover the federal-state interface.
The overall takeout from the inquiry is that “Australia did well relative to other nations, that experienced larger losses in human life, health system collapse and more severe economic downturns”.
But “the pandemic response was not as effective as it could have been” for an event for which there was “no playbook for pivotal actions.”
The inquiry said “with the benefit of hindsight, there was excessive fiscal and monetary policy stimulus provided throughout 2021 and 2022, especially in the construction sector. Combined with supply side disruptions, this contributed to inflationary pressures coming out of the pandemic.”
The inquiry criticised the Homebuilder program’s contribution to inflation, as well as Jobkeeper’s targeting, and said blanket access to superannuation should not be repeated.
The government – which might have originally expected the inquiry to have been more critical of the Morrison government – quickly seized on the report’s economic criticisms.
The panel has made a set of recommendations to ensure better preparation for a future pandemic.
It highlighted the “tail” the pandemic has left, especially its effect on children, who suffered school closures.
“Children faced lower health risks from COVID-19; however, broader impacts on the social and emotional development of children are ongoing. These include impacts on mental health, school attendance and academic outcomes for some groups of children.”
The report noted that the Australian Health Protection Principal Committee had never recommended widespread school closures.
A lack of clear communication about risks had created the environment for states to decide to go to remote learning.
The impacts on children should be considered in future pandemic preparations, the inquiry said.
It strongly backed making permanent the interim Australian Centre for Disease Control. The government will legislate next year for the CDC, to start on January 1 2026, as an independent statutory agency.
The CDC would be important in rebuilding trust, the report said, as well as “strengthening resilience and preparedness”. It would provide “national coordination to gather evidence necessary to undertake the assessments that can guide the proportionality of public health responses in future crises”.
The report said trust in government was essential for a successful response to a pandemic.
At COVID’s outset, the public largely did what was asked of them, complying with restrictive public health orders.
But the initial strengthening of trust in government did not continue through the pandemic. By the second year, restrictions on personal freedom were less accepted.
Reasons for the decrease in trust included a lack of transparency in decision making, poor communication, the stringency and duration of restrictions, implementation of mandated measures, access to vaccines and inconsistencies in responses across jurisdictions.
Michelle Grattan 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.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Jocelyne Basseal, Associate Director, Sydney Infectious Diseases Institute (Sydney ID), Faculty of Medicine and Health, University of Sydney
The long-awaited independent inquiry into Australia’s COVID response was released today, with lessons on how the nation could better prepare for future pandemics.
The 868-page report outlined nine guiding recommendations and 26 actions, including 19 set for implementation over the next 12 to 18 months. These form the foundation for future pandemic preparedness.
With initial strong national solidarity, Australia acted quickly to close national borders, the inquiry found. This bought crucial time, but Australia was not adequately prepared for a crisis of the scale of the COVID pandemic.
Australia’s response lacked strong central co-ordination and leadership. Communication about public health advice was often conflicting or not appropriately communicated with the most vulnerable groups. Public trust was further undermined by a lack of transparency in decision-making, such as disease modelling, which underpinned important public health responses.
In hindsight, the inquiry concluded a fully fledged Australian Centre for Disease Control (CDC) could have made a huge difference. In response, the federal government today committed A$251 milion to establish such a centre in Canberra.
What did the inquiry find?
1. Early rapid response and consensus helped keep us safe. As an inland nation, Australia was able to close its borders while preparing for the ultimate inevitable population-wide spread of SARS CoV-2. But it was unprepared for pandemic-related quarantines.
2. Initially, the communication was clear and consistent. This didn’t last. Huge uncertainties, rapidly changing circumstances, differing opinions among experts and the politicisation of the response undermined communication strategies. Communication with diverse ethnic groups and vulnerable populations groups were often sub-optimal. In future, misinformation and disinformation needs to be addressed through improving health literacy and proactive communication.
3. Our health-care infrastructure was lacking and couldn’t cope with emergency surge capacity, the inquiry found, although health-care workers “pulled together” remarkably. Aged care facilities were particularly vulnerable and had poor infection-control practices. More broadly, there were supply chain issues and inadequate stockpiles of essential infection prevention and control equipment, such as masks and gloves. Australia was unable to manufacture these and was left at the mercy of foreign providers.
4. Analysing the genetic material of the virus and widespread testing were critical to tracking viral evolution and spread.Pathogen genomics in New South Wales and Victoria, for instance, allowed accurate tracking of virus variants and local transmission. But there was poor exchange of data between jurisdictions and limited national coordination to optimise data interpretation and response.
5. Transparent, evidence-based decision-making was lacking.Disease models that informed key decisions were opaque and not open to scrutiny or peer review.
6. Vulnerable populations, including children, suffered disproportionately. COVID-related school closures were particularly harmful as they affected learning, socialising and development, and disproportionately affected children from lower socioeconomic backgrounds. Strict social isolation also increased the risk of family violence, along with anxiety and other mental health impacts. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people experienced higher risks due to the inequity of service provision and the social determinants of health.
7. Research is important and should be rapidly scalable. Good surveillance systems for emerging infectious diseases and future pandemic threats should be in place. Patient specimens need to be stored so we can rapidly explore the mechanisms of disease and develop essential diagnostic tests. The inquiry recognised the need for Australia to develop its own vaccines and for access to mRNA technology was recognised as an important health security measure, given challenges in vaccine access.
9. Emerging diseases with a One Health focus should be recognised as a ‘standing threat’. In our modern interconnected world, with highly concentrated human and animal populations combined with stressed ecosystems, new diseases with pandemic potential will continue to emerge at an unprecedented rate. This requires a gobal focus.
How could a CDC make a difference?
One of the inquiry’s key take-home messages is that the lack of strong, independent, central co-ordination hampered our pandemic response.
The inadequate flow of data between jurisdictions were major shortcomings that limited the ability to target responses. This is needed to understand:
transmission dynamics
the vulnerabilities in those with severe disease
the circulating viral variants.
The inquiry also emphasised the need to analyse data in near real time.
Good data drive evidence-informed and transparent policy. This is a crucial area for a future Australian CDC to address. The CDC will function as a “data hub”, with Canberra offering the ideal location supporting a multi-jurisdictional “hub-and-spoke” model.
Australia’s new CDC is expected to be launched by January 2026, pending legislation approval. The ongoing challenge will be to ensure it delivers optimal long-term health benefits for all Australians.
The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Saturday’s Queensland result provides the latest evidence of the dual tugs on the modern Labor Party, coming from its different constituencies.
The smallest swing against the Miles government was in inner Brisbane; the swing became bigger in the outer suburbs, and larger again in the regions. The broad state figures were: south-east Queensland 6.3%; rural/regional Queensland 9.2%. The awings in the city were: inner Brisbane 5.0%; outer Brisbane 7.7%.
This sort of divide reflects a challenge, first recognised decades ago, that’s highlighted by former Labor senator and minister Kim Carr, in his just-published A Long March. In a scathing critique of Labor’s problems, Carr calls this a “cultural crisis.”
“The Labor ship has struck the rock of identity politics,” Carr writes, “with too many of its spokespeople adopting a censorious tone to those who fail to embrace their particular social policy agendas”.
From the left, old school and former factional heavyweight, Carr argues Labor has sought to build a new constituency without paying sufficient attention to its traditional support base.
Over decades, the once-working class party has taken up causes that appeal to the wealthier, better-educated middle- class voters, and these people have moved their support to it. The cost has been an erosion of outer suburban votes, the people now being aggressively targeted by opposition leader Peter Dutton.
Meanwhile, in inner urban areas Labor has come under increasing pressure from the Greens. The danger for the ALP, Carr believes, is by trying to compete with the Greens on identity politics it will inevitably be outmanoeuvred.
“The profound challenge for the Labor Party in the 2020s is to find a way to bind together its more affluent and educated support base in the inner and middle suburbs of the big cities with its less well-off and less formally educated supporters in the outer suburbs and regional cities,” Carr says.
Political historian Paul Strangio, however, warns that while obviously Labor has to straddle constituencies, “there is no returning to an imagined ‘heartland’. The outer suburbs Carr seems to want Labor to focus upon are themselves radically changing. They are not a repository of old-fashioned working class values and priorities, and nor on their own are they sufficient to provide a basis for the party to hold government.”
Carr says the issue is how to build Labor’s primary vote in its heartland communities.
On what we’ve seen in recent politics, this appears a formidable, if not insurmountable, hope for any time soon.
Voters don’t trust parties, let alone join them. The popularity of “community candidates” has seen a record-sized crossbench in the House of Representatives, with an expanded Greens presence and disillusionment with the Liberals making a strong contribution to the number in 2022. Next year’s election will test whether this trend is entrenched.
Carr points out that Labor has a party membership that’s wealthier and older than the general community. Its membership is “thin” in the outer suburbs and the regions compared with the inner areas.
Among the consequences is that the messages coming up through the party may not gell with the preoccupations of the broader community, he says.
Over the years the ALP rank and file has not just shrunk numerically but been deprived of most of the not-inconsiderable power it once had within the party.
In terms of clout, Labor’s national conference, which sets the platform, is a diminished beast, though massively swollen numerically. The party membership’s power over preselections has been greatly reduced, thanks to factional deal-making and frequent intervention by the party’s national executive. In just one significant way has the rank and file gained power: it now has a 50% voice in electing the party’s leader, so far exercised once, in 2013, when Bill Shorten and Anthony Albanese faced off.
Given the shrinkage and balkanisation of the party, there is currently not the interest in internal party reform that erupted periodically and often heatedly in earlier years.
Labor veteran Race Mathews’ career, documented by his wife Iola in Race Mathews: A Life in Politics, has an extraordinarily broad political CV: a staffer for federal and state leaders, MP for the federal seat of Casey (elected on the 1972 Whitlam wave and defeated in the 1975 post-dismissal rout), and a Victorian state minister. An enduring preoccupation for Mathews, who was part of an influx of young, well-educated middle-class activists attracted to Labor in the 1960s and early 1970s, was fighting to make the Labor Party fit for purpose and more internally democratic.
Serving on Gough Whitlam’s staff in the late 1960s, Mathews was in the thick of the then-opposition leader’s tumultuous battle with the troglodytes of the Victorian party, who preferred political impotence to the power of government. Whitlam knew that unless the ALP organisation was reformed, Labor’s road to office would be obstructed.
Way back when, the party’s organisation, in which the left flexed a lot of muscle, liked to signal that the MPs were under its thumb. In 1963, then-opposition leader Arthur Calwell and Whitlam, his deputy, were embarrassed when photographed outside a Canberra hotel waiting for the party’s special national conference (to which they were not delegates) to decide Labor’s attitude to the North West Cape joint facility. The ultimate decision was not the problem – the line it was made by “36 faceless men” was.
Mathews later highlighted the significance of the 1970 federal intervention in Victoria, saying it had led to important reforms in that state and elsewhere. “Good people were brought into parliament and membership was a rewarding experience.” But then factionalism “ossified” the party and “if you weren’t part of the factions, you were marginalised”.
In his 70s Mathews (who is now aged 89 and suffering from Alzheimer’s Disease) was still fighting for democratisation of Labor’s organisation, which he described as “archaic and decrepit”. While party leaders and others were supportive in principle, the quest for a new wave of change ultimately brought only limited outcomes.
Iola Mathews quotes her husband’s Facebook answer to those who wondered why he, at 80, he was still in these trenches.
He wrote: “The fact is that nobody ever changed the party other than from inside it, or ever will. And shaping it closer to our heart’s desire is the only game in town.”
The truth is, however, it’s a game those who run the Labor Party these days have no serious interest in pursuing. As Strangio observes, “the age of the mass party has passed”.
Michelle Grattan 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.
Somaliland is due to hold a presidential election on 13 November 2024.
The results of the election will be important for two main reasons. First, what the leadership outcome will mean for Somaliland’s democratic credentials. Second, it will have implications for Somaliland’s push for recognition as an independent state.
Thirty-three years ago, Somaliland declared its unilateral withdrawal from the Somali Union. It is an independent state in reality but unrecognised in law. Like other unrecognised states such as Taiwan, it doesn’t fly a flag at the United Nations in New York. It also suffers from a lack of access to global financing, and humanitarian and development aid, most of which must come via Mogadishu.
Somaliland’s determination to achieve recognition was evident in January 2024 when it signed an agreement with neighbouring Ethiopia. Under this deal, Ethiopia would get access to the sea via a 19km strip of coastline, possibly near the port of Berbera (though three sites have been identified), and Addis Ababa would recognise Somaliland’s statehood. The agreement, which has yet to be ratified, was met with a storm of protests, including from Somalia.
Somaliland is run by the ruling party, Kulmiye, which is led by Muse Bihi Abdi, Somaliland’s president since 2017. The party has been in power since 2010. The main opposition party is Waddani (also spelled Wadani), led by Abdirahman Mohamed Abdilahi (or Ciro/Irro).
I have carried out a decade of research and fieldwork in Somaliland. In my view, this election carries weight in terms of Somaliland’s democratic health, as well as its prospects for peace and stability – within its borders and in the region.
Somaliland’s democracy, like all democracies, relies on giving politicians and parties the chance to win elections. It is the voters who will decide who gets to run Somaliland next, and they face a clear choice between Kulmiye and Waddani.
Political landscape
Somaliland’s 2024 presidential election will be a test of its democratic institutions and a critical moment in its quest for independence.
Kulmiye can point to milestones on the road to Somaliland’s recognition. It was in power when Somaliland and Taiwan (Republic of China) recognised one another and swapped diplomats.
The party can also claim success for a strategy to get support from western states for Somaliland’s formal recognition. This includes the staffing and funding of Somaliland’s overseas missions in London, Washington DC and Dubai, among others. These act as non-accredited embassies for the country.
Their work resulted in a non-official visit to Washington, DC by Bihi in 2022. The same year, a UK parliamentary delegation visited Hargeisa.
Somaliland and Ethiopia also reached their agreement in January 2024. This is the closest Somaliland has come to gaining official recognition from another state.
Like the ruling party, the opposition party Waddani fully supports the agreement with Ethiopia. It sees recognition from Somaliland’s huge neighbour – which also happens to host the headquarters of the African Union – as a first step to gaining official recognition.
However, based on my recent interviews with a Waddani official, the party is likely to adopt a broader approach if it wins the upcoming election. Instead of focusing solely on western states like the US and the UK, Waddani plans to approach African and global south states, such as Senegal and Kenya, for support.
This potential shift reflects an understanding that both regional and global dynamics are changing.
Waddani’s broader diplomatic strategy is reinforced by its recent coalition with KAAH (the Somali acronym for Alliance for Equity and Development). KAAH is a young political association rather than a formal political party. Somaliland has a constitutional limit of three official parties.
KAAH was formed, in part, by experienced politicians. In building a coalition, Waddani and KAAH hope to displace Somaliland’s current third party, the Justice and Welfare Party.
KAAH’s support is partially based in Somaliland’s eastern region, which has experienced violent upheavals in recent years. This coalition promises to better incorporate the eastern regions and clans into the government should Waddani win.
Regardless of the outcome of the election, one issue unites Somaliland’s political parties: the push for independence.
Regional implications
A peaceful election would reinforce Somaliland’s claim as a stable, democratic entity.
Mogadishu should not expect any winds of change to blow from Hargeisa if Waddani wins. Three generations and counting have been raised in a de-facto independent Somaliland and they remember the violent dissolution from the Somali Union. This included the bombing of Hargeisa, the destruction of Berbera port and the displacement of thousands of people. Somalilanders largely support independence.
Neither Waddani nor Kulmiye will be wishy-washy on this issue. And there will be forward movement on the Ethiopia-Somaliland agreement. This is likely to lead to increased tensions in the Horn region. As it is, Ethiopia and Somaliland are disturbed by the prospect of a resurgent Somalia supported by Egypt with arms and troops.
There won’t be a shooting war – Mogadishu still has far too many problems with al-Shabaab, clan infighting and a lack of resources and training. But history shows that states take extreme measures if they feel existentially threatened.
Mogadishu’s stance is to retake Somaliland at all costs. And it has much of the world’s tacit support for its “one Somalia” policy. That makes Somaliland a textbook case of an existentially threatened state.
Risks that lie ahead
There are some risks of instability regardless of who wins the election.
The Isaaq clan controls much of the political and economic landscape. This may intensify tensions, especially if minority clans feel sidelined. Waddani’s promise of inclusivity may appeal to marginalised groups, but clan-based grievances have grown over the past decade.
There’s also the risk of unrest among Isaaq loyalists if power shifts too much. And allegations of electoral fraud or voter suppression could fuel protests.
After 2022’s violent postponement due to election disputes, maintaining peace will require transparency, clan reconciliation and careful oversight to prevent renewed conflict.
Despite these risks, Somaliland is again (better late than never) going to the polls. Regardless of who wins, this is good news for Somaliland and its ongoing push for independence recognition.
Brendon J. Cannon 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.
Source: The Conversation – USA – By Robin Queen, Professor of Linguistics, English Language and Literatures and Germanic Languages and Literatures, University of Michigan
Growing up in the late 1970s, my best friend was from Michigan. Early in our friendship I asked her what someone from Michigan is called. “Michigander,” she replied. I laughed and said, “You mean like a goose?” Her older sister then chimed in that it was being changed to Michiganian. Michigander is sexist, she said, since gander refers only to a male goose.
I spent the next two decades never questioning, or particularly thinking about, Michiganian.
Then, I moved to Michigan. In over 20 years living here, I’ve never heard anyone say Michiganian. People from Michigan call themselves Michiganders.
Even though it may seem rather trivial, there is endless interest in the Michigander-Michiganian question. News articles about this topic pop up fairly regularly, inevitably stating that:
Govs. James Blanchard, John Engler and Jennifer Granholm used “Michiganian,” while Govs. Rick Snyder and Gretchen Whitmer prefer “Michigander.”
The debate about which term is correct is ongoing.
For the most part, though, the debate seems long over. Many Michiganders haven’t heard of Michiganian, as a recent text thread with my 19-year-old neighbor illustrates:
Regardless of whether there is – or ever really has been – a debate, the pas de deux between Michigander and Michiganian has an unusual history and peculiar twists and turns.
As a linguist who works on issues related to authority in language and linguistic justice, I like to investigate how terms come to be understood as correct, and on whose authority those determinations are made.
In the case of Michiganian and Michigander, Michiganian appears in style guides, and Michigander is the term most frequently used by people from Michigan.
Despite not having coined the term, however, Lincoln did likely play a part in its popularization by using it to malign Cass.
Google’s NGram, which tracks how often terms appear in a large collection of print sources, shows Michigander has been used more frequently in print than Michiganian since around 1845.
Michigander has outperformed Michiganian in print for over 175 years. Google NGram
No specific law designates the use of one term or the other, but the terms do appear in two Michigan laws.
The second is tied to the Historical Markers Act. The original act, established in 1955, used the term Michigander, but an amendment to it in 2002 changed the term to Michiganian. In 2017, the act was updated and the moniker was changed back to Michigander.
Interestingly, the federal government, in the form of the U.S. Government Publishing Office’s Style Manual, specifies Michiganian as the correct term. This represents a change from Michiganite, which was the term specified in the Style Manual from 1945 to 2000, likely as a match to terms such as Wisconsinite.
It’s difficult to know the origins of Michigander prior to 1848, but Lincoln did likely coin the term Michigander as a blend of Michigan and gander, leading to the possibility for goose jokes and humor. While other states have unusual monikers – such as Hoosiers for Indiana – none involves an animal pun like gander.
The humorous aspect of Michigander is what likely keeps the articles, Reddit threads and friendly banter going.
In 1947, the American journalist and essayist H.L. Mencken wrote, “The chief objection to Michigander is that it inspires idiots to call a Michigan woman a Michigoose and a child a Michigosling, but the people of the State have got used to this …”
Funny or sexist?
Gander humor reigns when it comes to Michigander. But perhaps more importantly, Michigander provides a greater sense of belonging and identity than Michiganian, despite the fact that there are those who find Michiganian has more finesse.
Given that gander designates a male goose, Michigander does raise questions about sexism.
The rise in the use of Michiganian along with the fall of Michigander from the late 1970s to the early 2000s occurred alongside broader recognition of sexism in different realms of social life. It corresponds with a variety of changes to the terms people had been using, such as chairman, waitress and fireman. In 2024, it is unremarkable to refer instead to a chair or chairperson, a server, or a firefighter.
So, why hang on to Michigander?
Given that Whitmer is a proud and consistent user of Michigander, the most likely answer is that people from Michigan don’t feel the term is exclusionary. As a colleague of mine, a Michigan-raised feminist activist in her 60s, told me, “Do we not have real issues of sexism in the vernacular? I never heard anyone use any other term growing up.”
Michigan Gov. Gretchen Whitmer has no qualms with Michigander. GIPHY News
Over the past several days, I’ve asked over two dozen people who were born and raised in Michigan what they call someone from Michigan. To a person, they have said Michigander. They range in age from 19-89, have different gender identities and racial affiliations, and have a wide range of professions and political orientations.
Only one had ever heard anyone referred to as a Michiganian, while a third had never heard the term Michiganian at all.
Ultimately the debate rests on whether it’s the people from Michigan or some other entity, such as the Government Publishing Office, that decides which term should be used. If we grant the people of Michigan the right to name themselves, the verdict is clear.
Robin Queen does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Source: The Conversation – USA – By Erin K. McFee, Professor of Practice of Climate Security, National Defense University
Members of the Leonor Cuadras cooperative sort nursery-grown oysters in La Reforma, Mexico, in December 2023.Jonathan Röders, CC BY-ND
Have you ever asked a teacher whether something will be on an upcoming test to decide whether to closely pay attention to a particular lesson? Taken the long way back from a lunch break to get enough exercise to meet a goal monitored by a fitness app? Logged on to a virtual meeting to be seen showing up, even as you worked on other tasks?
It’s human nature to adapt your behavior to meet evaluation criteria – even when meeting those targets comes at the expense of attaining more meaningful goals. Most donors, whether they are governments providing foreign aid, foundations making grants or individual people who give nonprofits money, expect or demand reports on what was accomplished with their funding. And what is measured for that purpose and how it’s measured tend to shape entire programs – often missing the mark on what truly matters to the communities involved.
While spending years conducting fieldwork everywhere from Colombia to the Kenya-Uganda border as a political anthropologist and a political scientist, we’ve witnessed firsthand the absurdities of the bureaucratic hoops people must jump through to access vital aid. We’ve watched both genuine efforts to abide by the guidelines donors set and the cynical exploitation of them. We have also spent years engaged in international development efforts, both with and through nonprofits that sought to resolve some of the world’s most intractable problems.
There’s a glaring and crucial question we’ve rarely heard asked when projects are being designed: What does success look like to the people meant to benefit from development funding?
Promoting environmental sustainability
We conducted an exploratory field study in La Reforma, a small coastal town located in the Mexican state of Sinaloa.
We focused on the Leonor Cuadras Oyster Aquaculture Cooperative, a locally led initiative supported by the seafood company Marine Edén and SUCEDE, a Mexican nongovernmental organization that’s dedicated to promoting individual, social and environmental well-being in La Reforma and other nearby communities.
This particular project sought to create jobs for women in La Reforma, while promoting environmental sustainability through oyster farming. The cooperative’s objectives included empowering women, fostering collective work and contributing to local environmental restoration by improving water quality through oyster filtration. Traditional metrics for projects like this would tally labor hours, harvest size and jobs created – all important but incomplete insights into the whole story.
Our study was unusual because it was designed as an exploratory effort to help shape future metrics in a participatory manner. We sought to understand the cooperative’s internal dynamics and challenges so we could create metrics that reflected what the cooperative members wanted and needed.
After several weeks of fieldwork, multiple focus group discussions and eight interviews with people involved in the cooperative in the last quarter of 2023, we found that success is not solely defined by the number of oysters they produce or the dollar signs next to their names in a report submitted to donors.
In their view, success is framed around dignity, gender equity and the well-being of their families and the environment. We also learned that their work together had increased a sense of collective commitment to the project and each other.
Measuring success in terms that make sense to locals
Most donors love numbers. They want to know how many people attended an event, how much money was spent, how many widgets were produced. But while such outcomes are easily measurable, they are not always meaningful.
In La Reforma, the women who belong to the Leonor Cuadras cooperative told us that they define success differently. Their primary goal isn’t just to grow oysters. They see their co-op as a tool for social transformation, not just a source of income.
One woman we’ll call Aurelia to protect her anonymity proudly shared that working with the cooperative has proved that “we can do things on par with men.”
Julia, another cooperative member, put it this way: “We are not just working for ourselves – we are working for the future of our families and our community.”
This version of success includes improving their family’s prospects and safeguarding their marine environment for future generations. As the oysters they grow naturally filter and clean the bay’s waters, so too does their collaborative work improve the social fabric of this violence-affected community in ways that won’t show up on a balance sheet.
Finding participatory approaches
When donors impose their own frameworks and set their own goals for the projects they fund, they usually miss what truly defines success for local communities. In La Reforma, the women are acquiring technical skills related to oyster farming, but they seem to see more value in the empowerment that comes with leading a project that reflects their realities and needs.
If the cooperative’s donors had chosen to focus on traditional production metrics, such as the number of participants, the scale of the harvest and the hours of labor involved, they would have surely overlooked the deeper social shifts, such as women’s leadership in a male-dominated profession or a greater commitment to collective well-being.
What if, instead of dictating outcomes from the start, donors worked collaboratively with communities to define success? The cooperative’s members want independence. They hope that someday they will run their own oyster farms or support other aquaculture initiatives. These are aspirations that don’t fit into traditional donor checkboxes. But that kind of approach is critical for the project’s sustainability.
Some donors and development agencies are beginning to integrate this approach. For example, the International Organization for Migration consults with community members when writing performance reviews. Some donors have embraced an approach called trust-based philanthropy, which largely removes reporting burdens altogether. They focus instead on collaborative relationships with their grantees.
Setting goals that are more relevant to local conditions requires a radical shift in how development projects are designed and evaluated. Rather than imposing predetermined outcomes, we believe that it is crucial to ask of the communities and individuals on the ground: What does success look like to you?
Erin McFee is the founder and president of the Corioli Institute, which conducted this study. The research for this article was funded by the UK Research and Innovation Future Leader Fellows Program. The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not reflect official policies or positions of the National Defense University, the Department of Defense or the U. S. government.
Jonathan Röders is Director of Projects & Programs at the Corioli Institute, which conducted this study. His contribution to this research was funded by UK Research and Innovation.
Source: The Conversation – USA – By Yasemin Copur-Gencturk, Associate Professor of Education, University of Southern California
Teachers hold different views on why girls are good at math than they do for boys. Maskot via Getty Images
Teachers report thinking that if girls do better in math than boys, it is probably because of their innate ability and effort. But they also report that when boys do well in math, it is more likely due to parental support and society’s higher expectations for their success.
That’s what we discovered from 400 elementary and middle school math teachers we surveyed across the country for our new study. The purpose of the study was to learn more about how teachers explain students’ success and failure in math.
We found that the variation in views among educators is not limited to the gender of students. Teachers also hold contrasting views about math performance when it comes to students’ race and ethnicity, our study found.
More specifically, we found that when Black and Hispanic students outperform Asian and white students, teachers are more likely to think it’s because of effort and differences in their cognitive abilities. In contrast, when Asian and white students outperform others, teachers attribute it to the support and expectations of others, such as from parents and society as well as cultural differences that value math learning.
To reach these conclusions, we conducted an experiment. In the experiment, teachers were first asked to help us by reviewing student responses to items on a math test we were developing. After they rated the student responses, we randomly assigned teachers to conditions telling them that one group – either boys or girls, Black and Hispanic or Asian and white – performed better on this test. Then, we asked the teachers to rate their agreement with a set of potential explanations for the disparity. These potential explanations included statements such as, “Boys often pay more attention and follow directions in class compared with girls.”
After teachers had rated their agreement with these explanations, we asked them about their personal beliefs and experiences with gender and racial discrimination in math classrooms. We analyzed how these beliefs related to their explanations of performance differences.
We found that teachers were more likely to attribute the success of girls and Black and Hispanic students to internal factors, such as ability and effort, whereas they were more likely to attribute boys’ and Asian and white students’ success to external factors, such as parental involvement and cultural differences.
We also observed that teachers who reported personally experiencing racial discrimination in math classrooms when they were students were more likely to agree that ability was responsible for Black and Hispanic students’ higher performance.
Why it matters
How teachers explain student performance can affect their expectations of students. It can also affect how they teach and how they emotionally respond to student needs.
For example, research has shown that when teachers attribute students’ failure to a lack of effort, they tend to maintain higher expectations of students and encourage them to expend more effort next time. When they attribute student failure to a lack of ability, however, evidence shows that teachers are more likely to lower their expectations and express more pity. Lowered expectations and feelings of pity can be internalized by students. This can in turn lead them to assume that they have low ability and expect to fail more often in the future.
Findings from our study show that teachers tend to explain students’ failures and successes differently based on which social group performed better than another. Sometimes, these attributions were consistent with stereotypes, such as attributing the higher performance of white and Asian students to their parents and culture.
What still isn’t known
Our research, along with that of others, shows that implicit biases exist in math classrooms. These biases influence how teachers view students’ abilities and explain their performance. However, most existing anti-bias training interventions are not very effective.
Researchers need to develop new types of training to combat these biases in math classrooms, which could help improve teaching and reduce cognitive and emotional burdens that students experience.
Yasemin Copur-Gencturk receives funding from the NSF, IES, and Herman & Raseij Math Initiative.
Ian Thacker receives funding from the Spencer Foundation and the U.S. Department of Agriculture, National Institute of Food and Agriculture.
Joseph Cimpian receives funding from the Institute of Education Sciences, the National Science Foundation, and the Spencer Foundation.
Why do we use gasoline for small vehicles and diesel fuel for big vehicles? – Methdini, age 15, Sri Lanka
Gasoline fuels most light-duty vehicles, such as passenger cars and pickup trucks. Heavy-duty vehicles, like buses, delivery trucks and long-haul tractor-trailers, typically run on diesel.
Both fuel types are needed because gasoline and diesel engines have different strengths. As my automotive engineering students learn, this makes them suitable for different uses.
Let’s start with what they have in common. Gas and diesel engines both work through a process called internal combustion.
First, they mix fuel with air because the fuel needs oxygen from the air to burn.
Next, they compress the fuel-air mixture, which makes the mixture hot enough to burn.
Then the engine burns the mix of fuel and air, releasing heat. This creates high pressure, which moves internal parts that make the car move.
Finally, the car releases spent combustion gases to the atmosphere through its tailpipe. These gases contain pollutants, such as carbon monoxide, nitrogen oxides and unburned fuel, that are harmful to human health, as well as carbon dioxide, which warms Earth’s atmosphere.
How a gas-powered internal combustion engine converts chemical energy in gasoline into kinetic energy that makes the car move.
Different engines for different jobs
Gasoline and diesel fuel are both made from crude oil, a fossil-based energy source. But they have different chemical properties that require different types of engines.
In a gas engine, a small device called a spark plug ignites the compressed fuel-air mixture. It uses hundreds of thousands of volts to create an electrical arc that can start the burn, much like striking a flint rock against another stone.
Diesel fuel is harder to ignite and slower to burn than gasoline. But if it is compressed enough, it will ignite without a spark. And this higher compression results in higher efficiency, so vehicles powered with diesel get more miles per gallon. That’s important for transporting goods and people as economically as possible – one reason why most buses, trains and large trucks run on diesel.
Diesel engines tend to be more expensive than gas engines, since they need sturdier parts to withstand the higher temperatures and pressures they produce. But they also last longer than gasoline engines. This is a plus for vehicles such as long-haul trucks that need to go many hundreds of thousands of miles between engine overhauls.
So why do passenger cars use gas? One reason is that diesel engines’ higher compression and temperature make them noisier, especially at higher frequencies that humans find annoying. Diesel engines also produce higher levels of fine particle pollution, known as PM 2.5, that has been linked to many human health risks.
These trade-offs typically lead consumers to prefer cheaper, quieter gasoline engines in cars they drive for work and pleasure. Efficient, long-lasting diesel engines are more attractive to companies hauling goods and transporting large numbers of people.
Beyond internal combustion engines
In the future, transportation may not use gas or diesel at all. Some cars and light trucks – models known as hybrids – already use gas or diesel together with batteries and electric motors, or run entirely on electricity. And cities across the U.S. are investing in electric school buses, which are lower-polluting and cheaper to maintain than diesel buses.
Hybrid, plug-in hybrid and battery electric vehicles promise to result in far fewer emissions of toxic gases and carbon dioxide – especially if they are recharged with electricity produced from renewable sources like wind and solar power. These vehicles will be quieter than gasoline and diesel models and also cheaper to maintain, since they have fewer moving parts. Gasoline and diesel vehicles will remain in use for years to come, but they no longer represent the forefront of transportation innovation.
Hello, curious kids! Do you have a question you’d like an expert to answer? Ask an adult to send your question to CuriousKidsUS@theconversation.com. Please tell us your name, age and the city where you live.
And since curiosity has no age limit – adults, let us know what you’re wondering, too. We won’t be able to answer every question, but we will do our best.
Michael Leamy receives funding from the National Science Foundation, the Department of Energy, General Motors, and other government agencies and corporations.
Pastor Dieufort Fleurissaint denounces the hateful rhetoric aimed at Haitian migrants in Springfield, Ohio, during a Sept. 24, 2024, rally in Boston.Jessica Rinaldi/The Boston Globe/Getty Images)
Since 2021, about 15,000 Haitians have found new lives in Springfield, Ohio, after fleeing the violence of Haiti, their native country.
But a wave of baseless rumors and hate, amplified by former President Donald Trump and his running mate, U.S. Sen. JD Vance, has shattered that sense of safety. Many of the city’s Haitian immigrants are left questioning whether their vision of an American dream is still possible.
Frightened and worried, many Haitians say they are fearful of going outside and staying in Springfield.
The morning after the presidential debate, a Haitian woman who had moved to Springfield six years ago told a newspaper reporter that “they’re attacking us in every way.”
In addition to the anxiety, the woman, who asked not to be identified, said that her car windows had been broken in the middle of the night. “I’m going to have to move because this area is no longer good for me,” the woman said. “I can’t even leave my house to go to Walmart. I’m anxious and scared.”
Trump’s inflammatory statements, which have included wrongful allegations of Haitians eating pets, are part of a broader historical pattern of racism and anti-Black xenophobia in the U.S. aimed at Haitians. Days after the debate, Trump further explained how he would start his mass deportation program in Springfield. “Illegal Haitian migrants have descended upon a town of 58,000 people, destroying their way of life,” Trump said.
In my view, Trump’s baseless allegations reflect America’s deeply rooted history of systemic racism against Haiti and its people.
A flawed history
The roots of anti-Haitian racism in the U.S. can be traced to the Haitian Revolution in 1804 in which Black Haitians who were enslaved rose up and overthrew the French colonial government.
Haiti became the first independent Black republic in the world, and the country’s independence terrified many in the U.S., especially white slaveholders. They feared the revolution might inspire slave revolts at home.
Illustration depicting the Haitian Revolution led by Toussaint Louverture. Bettmann/Getty Images
For much of the 19th century, the U.S. refused to recognize Haiti as a legitimate nation. It wasn’t until 1862, during the Civil War, that the U.S. finally established diplomatic relations with the country.
But the U.S. continued to exploit Haiti for its own economic and military interests, occupying the country with the military from 1915 to 1934. During this period, the U.S. controlled Haiti’s government and finances, installed a pro-American president and helped establish a brutal military force.
The occupation worsened racial and economic inequality in Haiti and further destabilized the nation.
This history of exploitation and interference has had long-lasting effects on Haiti’s ability to develop economically and politically, a situation exacerbated by continued U.S. intervention throughout the Cold War era.
During the nearly 30-year dictatorships of François “Papa Doc” and Jean-Claude “Baby Doc” Duvalier between 1957 and 1986, for example, the U.S. government provided approximately US$900 million in financial support to these repressive regimes, despite their notorious human-rights abuses.
Anti-Black immigration policies
All the history of U.S. involvement in Haiti set the stage for the mass migration of Haitians to the U.S. since the early 1960s.
Over the years, about 200,000 Haitians have sought to escape violence and poverty to the U.S.
Those with resources, such as the Haitian elite and middle class, migrated legally, settling in New York and Miami. Many of them organized ways to send aid to Haiti and brought attention to human-rights abuses being committed by the Duvalier regimes.
Poor Haitians soon followed, arriving by crude boats.
In September 1963, the first boatload of Haitian refugees landed in Miami. But instead of finding freedom, all 23 Haitians were denied asylum and sent back to Haiti by the U.S. immigration authorities.
Since then, Haitians arriving by boat have faced arrest, detention, asylum denials and deportation as successive U.S. governments refused to recognize the political repression in Haiti. Instead, Haitians were labeled economic migrants who sought a better standard of living and, as such, were not eligible for asylum.
From 1981 to 1991, for instance, 433 boats carrying approximately 25,580 Haitians were intercepted by U.S. immigration authorities. Only 28 people were allowed to pursue refugee claims.
The Haitian experience in the US
Often portrayed by white policymakers as disease carriers and criminals, Haitian immigrants have long suffered discrimination and dehumanization in the U.S.
In the 1980s, during the HIV crisis, U.S. health officials wrongly labeled Haitians as high-risk carriers of the virus, reinforcing harmful racial and ethnic stereotypes.
My research has shown this portrayal of Haitians as dangerous and undesirable persists today, as reflected in Trump’s and Vance’s recent claims. The narrative of immigrants eating pets and spreading diseases is a recycled trope in American history, used by white conservative politicians to stoke fears about foreigners to reinforce white supremacy.
A group of Haitian Americans in Springfield, Ohio, listen to area residents denounce the town’s growing Haitian population during a public meeting on Sept. 24, 2024. Dominic Gwinn/Middle East Images /Getty Images
The accusations against Haitians in Springfield have not only triggered immediate threats of violence but have also reinforced deep-seated, anti-Black xenophobia that continues to plague U.S. society.
In recent years, hate speech and attacks against Black immigrants, including Haitians, have been on the rise. Black immigrants, regardless of their legal status, face higher rates of deportation and are more likely to be targeted than white immigrants by law enforcement.
Addressing anti-Haitian racism
The allegations made by Trump and Vance represent a dangerous escalation of rhetoric that has real-life consequences for Haitians in the U.S.
The demonization of Haitians in Springfield is not just a political ploy – it is part of a broader strategy to uphold systems of exclusion that have historically been used to marginalize Black people, both immigrants and citizens.
Thurka Sangaramoorthy receives funding from the National Institutes of Health.
Source: The Conversation – USA – By Dorian Rhea Debussy, Lecturer of Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies, The Ohio State University
LGBTQ+ voters lean heavily Democratic, and they tend to turn out in high numbers.Dani VG via Getty Images
Victory in the 2024 U.S. presidential election may come down to LGBTQ+ voters.
Polling data shows that Donald Trump and Kamala Harris are running in a near-dead heat in four states – Georgia, Michigan, North Carolina and Pennsylvania. And as a scholar of LGBTQ+ politics, I suspect that LGBTQ+ voters could play an outsize role in these states and the race.
For context, 64% of all eligible voters cast a ballot in the 2020 presidential election, which was unusually high voter participation. Historically, turnout hovers around 55% for presidential elections and 35% for midterm elections.
Even in the historically low-turnout 2014 midterm election, the group’s data indicated that roughly half of transgender respondents had voted, compared with only one-third of the general population. In the 2022 midterm election, transgender voter turnout increased to nearly 75%, according to the 2024 U.S. Trans Survey.
LGBTQ+ voters and partisanship
LGBTQ+ voters strongly lean Democratic. Pew’s 2013 survey found that nearly 60% of all LGBTQ+ respondents were Democrats, and less than 10% were Republicans. Transgender voters are even more partisan, and nearly 80% identified as Democratic or Democratic-leaning in the 2015 U.S. Trans Survey.
Exit poll data from the 2016 presidential election supports this conclusion. Nearly 80% of LGBTQ+ voters told researchers outside polling stations that they’d cast their ballot for Hillary Clinton. Just 14% reported that they’d backed Trump.
Initial exit poll data from the 2020 presidential election indicated that Trump had doubled his share of LGBTQ+ voters to 28%. Later analyses contradicted that finding, however, showing that LGBTQ+ voters were actually essential to Joe Biden’s victory.
The surprising miscalculation was likely due to COVID-19-related polling errors. Exit poll data from the 2022 midterm election put LGBTQ+ support for Republican congressional candidates back at 14%.
LGBTQ+ voters in ‘tipping-point’ states
Taken together, past polling data indicates that the LGBTQ+ community will likely back Harris over Trump by strong margins in four of the most likely “tipping-point” states – that is, the swing states with enough electoral votes to tip the entire election for one candidate.
Georgia, Michigan, North Carolina and Pennsylvania all have populations of LGBTQ+ adults that are significantly larger than the margin of victory by which the winning candidate took the state in 2020.
For instance, Biden won Georgia and its 15 electoral votes by 11,779 votes in 2020, and there are over 400,000 LGBTQ+ adults in the state. Trump’s apparent current lead in Georgia is within the margin of error, and even a slight increase in Democratic-leaning LGBTQ+ voters, compared with 2020, could hand Harris the state.
The gap between the two candidates in all four tipping-point states is similarly narrow – 2% or less. That’s well within state polls’ margin of error. Together, these states have a combined 66 electoral votes. That’s nearly double Biden’s Electoral College margin of victory in 2020 and Trump’s margin in 2016.
If higher turnout among LGBTQ+ voters in these four likely tipping-point states could deliver the 2024 race for Harris, then lower LGBTQ+ turnout could pave Trump’s path to victory.
Trump is well within striking distance in the Rust Belt states of Pennsylvania and Michigan, where polling puts him in a statistical dead heat with Harris. With those slim margins that are well within the margin of error, even a moderate decrease in turnout among the states’ many thousands of LGBTQ+ voters could cause serious problems for Harris.
For context, Biden won Pennsylvania and Michigan by 80,555 and 154,188 votes, respectively, in 2020.
Possible X factors
Of course, the 2020 and 2024 presidential elections are not carbon copies of each other.
In September, CNN reported that the Republican nominee for governor of North Carolina, Mark Robinson, had posted controversial comments on a pornographic website between 2008 and 2012. In addition to referring to himself as a “black Nazi,” Robinson said that he enjoyed watching transgender pornography.
For a candidate whose anti-trans rhetoric includes saying transgender women should be arrested for using women’s restrooms, this was shocking news. Robinson has denied the allegation, which has severely damaged his campaign. Two weeks ahead of the election, polling gave Robinson’s Democratic opponent, Josh Stein, a clear lead over Robinson.
Robinson’s troubled past and embattled campaign could mobilize multiple pockets of progressive North Carolinians, including LGBTQ+ voters, against him. Boosted turnout would almost certainly eat into Trump’s vote share in North Carolina – a state he won by 1.3% in 2020.
What to expect on election night
Historical trends, demographic data and current affairs all point toward LGBTQ+ voters playing an important – and potentially decisive – role in tipping swing states to Harris.
A September 2024 survey by the Human Rights Campaign, a LGBTQ+ advocacy organization, reported that about 20% of LGBTQ+ respondents were undecided, planning to stay home or backing a third party. Less than 8% of LGBTQ+ respondents were leaning toward Trump, but disaffected LGBTQ+ Democrats could cause problems for Harris.
Ultimately, there’s no way to know what LGBTQ+ voters will actually do at the ballot box. This race is in flux, and plenty can happen before election day. Other voting blocs have grown or changed since 2024, too.
The answers will come on election night or – in a race with such narrow margins of victory – in the days and weeks of counting and recounting to follow.
Dorian Rhea Debussy does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
You can probably picture a vampire: Pale, sharply fanged undead sucker of blood, deterred only by sunlight, religious paraphernalia and garlic. They’re gnarly creatures, often favorite subjects for movies or books. Luckily, they’re only imaginary … or are they?
The common vampire bat, Desmodus rotundus, is the most abundant. At home in the tropical forests of Central and South America, these bats feed on various animals, including tapirs, mountain lions, penguins and, most often nowadays, livestock.
Feeding on a blood diet is unusual for a mammal and has led to many unique adaptations that facilitate their uncommon lifestyle. Unlike other bats, vampires are mobile on the ground, toggling between two distinct gaits to circle their sleeping prey. Heat-sensing receptors on their noses help them find warm blood under their prey’s skin. Finally, the combination of a small incision, made by potentially self-sharpening fangs, and an anticoagulant in their saliva allows these bats to feed on unsuspecting prey.
To me, as a behavioral ecologist, who is interested in how pathogens affect social behaviors and vice versa, the most fascinating adaptations to a blood-feeding lifestyle are observable in vampire bats’ social lives.
Vampire bats will share their blood meal with a hungry friend. Gerry Carter
Such food sharing happens between bats who are related – such as mothers and their offspring – but also unrelated individuals. This observation has puzzled evolutionary biologists for quite a while. Why help someone who is not closely related to you?
It turns out that vampire bats keep track of who feeds them and reciprocate – or not, if the other bat has not been helpful in the past. In doing so, they form complex social relationships maintained by low-cost social investments, such as cleaning and maintaining the fur of another animal, called allogrooming, and higher-cost social investments, such as sharing food.
These relationships are on par with what you would see in primates, and some people compare them to human friendships. Indeed, there are some parallels.
For instance, humans will raise the stakes when forming new relationships with others. You start with social investments that don’t cost much – think sharing some of your lunch – and wait for the other person’s response. If they don’t reciprocate, the relationship may be doomed. But if the other person does reciprocate by sharing a bit of their dessert, for instance, your next investment might be larger. You gradually increase the stakes in a game of back-and-forth until the friendship eventually warrants larger social investments like going out of your way to give them a ride to work when their car breaks down.
Vampire bats do the same. When strangers are introduced, they will start with small fur-cleaning interactions to test the waters. If both partners keep reciprocating and raising the stakes, the relationship will eventually escalate to food sharing, which is a bigger commitment.
Relationships, in sickness and in health
My lab studies how infections affect social behaviors and relationships. Given their vast array of social behaviors and the complexity of their social relationships, vampire bats are the ideal study system for me and my colleagues.
How does being ill affect how vampire bats behave? How do other bats behave toward one that is sick? How does sickness affect the formation and maintenance of their social relationships?
We simulate infections in bats in our lab by using molecules derived from pathogens to stimulate an immune response. We’ve repeatedly found a form of passive social distancing where sick individuals reduce their interaction with others, whether it’s allogrooming, social calling or just spending time near others.
Researchers attach proximity sensors to bats. The sensors communicate with each other and exchange information about meeting time, duration and signal strength, which is a proxy for distance between two bats. Sherri and Brock Fenton
Importantly, these behavioral changes haven’t necessarily evolved to minimize spreading disease to others. Rather, they are parts of the complex immune response that biologists call sickness behaviors. It’s comparable to someone infected with the flu staying at home simply because they don’t feel up to venturing out. Even if such passive social distancing may have not evolved to prevent transmission to others, simply being too sick to interact with others will still reduce the spread of germs.
Interestingly, sickness behaviors can be suppressed. People do this all the time. So-called presenteeism is showing up at work despite illness due to various pressures. Similarly, many people have suppressed symptoms of an infection to engage in some sort of social obligation. If you have little kids, you know that when everyone in your household is coming down with something, there’s no way you can just sit back and not take care of the little ones, even if you feel quite bad yourself.
Animals are no different. They can suppress sickness behaviors when competing needs arise, such as caring for young or defending territory. Despite their tendency to reduce social interactions with others when sick, in vampire bats, sick mothers will continue to groom their offspring and vice versa, probably because mother-daughter relationships are extra important. Mothers and daughters are often each other’s primary social relationships within groups of vampire bats.
Despite vampire bats’ elaborate social relationships, farmers often consider them pests. Sherri and Brock Fenton
Human-bat conflict centers on livestock
Despite their many fascinating adaptations and complex social lives, vampire bats are not universally admired. In fact, in many areas in South and Central America, they are considered pests because they can transmit the deadly rabies virus to livestock, which can cause quite significant economic losses.
Before people introduced livestock into their habitat, vampire bats probably had a harder time finding food in the form of native prey species such as tapirs. Now, livestock has become their primary food source. After all, why not feed on something that is reliably at the same place every night and quite abundant? Increases in livestock abundance come with increases in vampire bat populations, probably perpetuating the problem of rabies transmission.
The farmers’ quarrels with vampires make sense, especially in smaller cattle herds, where losing even one cow can significantly hurt a farmer’s livelihood. Culling campaigns have used topically applied poisons called vampiricide, basically a mix of petroleum jelly and rat poison. Bats are caught, the paste is applied to the fur, and they carry it back to the roost, where others ingest the poison during social interactions. Interestingly, large-scale culling may not be very effective in reducing rabies spillover.
Vampire bat colonies live in places like hollow trees. May Dixon
Now, the focus has started to shift toward large-scale cattle vaccinations or vaccinating the vampire bats themselves. Researchers are even considering transmissible vaccines: They could genetically modify herpes viruses, which are quite common in vampire bats, to carry rabies genes and vaccinate large swaths of vampire bat populations.
Whichever method is used to mitigate vampire bat-human conflicts, more empathy for these misunderstood animals could only help. After all, if you stick your head into a hollow tree full of vampire bats – assuming you can brave the smell of digested blood – remember: You’re looking at a complex network of individual friendships between animals that care deeply for each other.
Some of the cited work in the article is from long-term collaborators (such as Dr. Gerald Carter at Princeton University) with whom I frequently interact and work together.
Early toxicology reports suggest that former One Direction singer Liam Payne had several drugs in his system when he fell to his death from a hotel balcony in Buenos Aires, Argentina. These include pink cocaine (which comprises several drugs), cocaine, benzodiazepine and crack.
While the type of benzodiazepine wasn’t mentioned in the toxicology report, it is known that the police found a blister pack of clonazepam in the singer’s hotel room.
Although there has been a general fall in the use of benzodiazepines, clonazepam has bucked that trend. The reason for this is unclear, but it could be the drug’s potency. It is not without reason that on the street it is sometimes referred to as “super Valium”.
Clonazepam was first approved by the US Food and Drug Administration in 1975. It is used to treat a range of conditions, including epileptic seizures, muscle spasms, anxiety and panic disorders. Doses range from 0.5mg to 2mg in tablet or liquid forms. (By comparison, a teaspoon of sugar weighs about 5,000mg.) It is also 20 times more potent than diazepam (Valium), with 0.5mg of clonazepam being equivalent to 10mg diazepam.
The onset time for clonazepam – that is, the time to have an effect – is an hour or more. Xanax, also a benzodiazepine, starts to act within ten minutes, while Valium takes between 15 and 60 minutes.
Although slower to start acting, the effects of clonazepam are longer lasting than many benzodiazepines. For example, the half-life (the time taken for the body to reduce the amount of drug in the body by 50%) of Xanax is six to 25 hours, of Valium 48 hours and clonazepam up to 54 hours.
In recreational use, tablets are powdered and then snorted. The drug enters the bloodstream through the membranes in the nose. Taken this way the drug is faster to act and more is available in the bloodstream to have an effect.
The drug is thought to work by enhancing the activity of a brain chemical (neurotransmitter) called Gaba. It dampens brain activity by blocking the signals between neurons. Boosting Gaba is known to reduce anxiety, promote relaxation and help with sleep.
Steady rise
Recently there has been a rise in the use and misuse of clonazepam in the UK. Prescriptions for the drug increased by 12% in 2023. The UK Rehab website states: “The rise in clonazepam addiction reflects a larger trend in the misuse of prescription medications, a public health crisis that has escalated into epidemic proportions in some regions.”
Google searches for clonazepam have increased, with a particular interest in the drug in parts of the US. There are also reports of new polydrug mixtures containing clonazepam, such as karkoubi, which has been reported in Algeria and Morocco, mixing clonazepam with cannabis and tobacco.
Taking clonazepam is not without dangers. Even under medical supervision, people can develop tolerance to it and become dependent.
Doctors tend to prescribe low doses and then gradually increase the dose until the desired therapeutic effect is achieved. However, if the drug is taken over long periods (four weeks is often cited) people can become dependent. Withdrawal symptoms – such as tremors, sweating and nausea – are then experienced when the patient stops taking the drug.
Clonazepam also causes side-effects that can include trouble speaking, feeling sleepy, a slower heartbeat and excitability. Although rarer, some people hallucinate.
When mixed with other drugs or alcohol, the problems are compounded. For example, mixing with opiates and opioids (for example, codeine, methadone, morphine, oxycodone and tramadol) or alcohol can lead to sedation, slower breathing and heart rate, coma and even death.
Taking drugs in combination is known to be extremely dangerous. More than 93% of drug deaths in Scotland in 2021 involved more than one drug.
With these potential dangers, clonazepam is tightly controlled internationally. In the UK, it is a class C drug under the Misuse of Drugs Act. Other class C drugs include GHB, tramadol, cathinone and anabolic steroids.
But tough laws alone will not stop drugs from being misused. So when people choose to take drugs, including clonazepam, it is important that they understand what the drug might do and what the risks might be.
Michael Cole receives funding and “in kind” support from the European Union and a number police forces and forensic science organisations around the world to carry out research.
Jezebel has long been used as a slur against women who are considered too self-confident, too independent or too close to power – particularly when they happen to be Black. From Beyonce to Nikki Minaj, US vice-president and Democratic Presidential candidate Kamala Harris is only the latest in a long line of women of colour to be on the receiving end of the slur.
But beneath the use of Jezebel’s name as a way to paint powerful women as promiscuous lies something even more sinister: the threat of sexual violence for those who will not submit to white patriarchal control.
An increasing number of Christian nationalist personalities have taken to claiming that the vice-president is a Jezebel spirit. Notably, televangelist Lance Wallnau appears in multiple videos on X (formerly Twitter) claiming that: “with Kamala you have a Jezebel spirit, a characteristic in the Bible, that is a Jezebel spirit. The personification of intimidation, seduction, domination and manipulation”.
Nor is Wallnau shy about connecting his use of Jezebel to Harris’s race: according to his video, the fact that Harris is Black makes her even more of a seductive Jezebel than Hillary Clinton: “the spirit of Jezebel in a way that will be even more ominous than Hillary [Clinton] because she’ll bring a racial component, and she’s younger”.
Jezebels old and new
Different versions of Jezebel are found in the Old and New Testaments, but both are associated with power, independence and sexuality. In 1 Kings, Jezebel is a queen from Sidon (present-day Lebanon). She ruled along with her husband Ahab and refuses to worship the biblical God; she continued her traditional worship of Ba’al.
Her authority in her marriage and in politics attracted the prophet Elijah’s negative attention. Elijah utters a prophecy that: “The dogs shall eat Jezebel” (1 Kings 21:23), and indeed, 2 Kings 9:32-37 says that the prophecy is fulfilled.
Knowing her life is in danger, Jezebel puts on her make up and does her hair to prepare to meet her enemy.
As religious studies academic Jennifer L. Koosed writes, while her self-beautification is used to sexualise Jezebel, “these acts are those of a proud and powerful queen” who boldly meets the man who is about to have her thrown from a window. Jezebel’s bloodied body is trampled by horses and her corpse utterly destroyed.
Her violent death and the desecration of her body, which is consumed by dogs, dehumanises Jezebel. The Bible presents this as apt punishment for a woman who was so bold as to defy her husband’s traditions and maintain her independence.
When we meet another Jezebel in the New Testament, the process begins again. In Revelation 2, Jezebel is a prophet, a rival of John the Seer, who travels to different early Christian communities and teaches them. John, the author of the Book of Revelation, imagines Jesus writing to the community who allow themselves to be taught by her. In that letter, the voice of Jesus declares that the punishment for this woman, who dares to be a leader, is rape. John uses vitriolic language to paint Jezebel as sexually immoral, but his complaint is with her authority.
Long and damaging history
The Bible frequently paints female characters as unacceptably sexual, or threatens them with sexual violence, in order to maintain its patriarchal hierarchy.
Definition of the word Jezebel in a religious dictionary. Shutterstock
For example, as biblical scholars such as Renita J. Weems have pointed out, Hosea 1-3 uses the metaphor of God as (abusive) husband and the people of Israel as their (abused) adulterous wife in order to convince the Israelites to worship God again.
The infamous figure of the “Whore of Babylon” in Revelation 17-18 echoes that divine threat: her control over the kings of the world, her opulence and her sexuality all make her God’s enemy – and her punishment is sexual humiliation and violence.
Kamala Harris has been labelled Jezebel since at least as early as 2021 when pastor Steve Swofford as “Jezebel Harris” and pastor Tom Buck tweeted: “I can’t imagine any truly God-fearing Israelite who would’ve wanted their daughters to view Jezebel as an inspirational role model because she was a woman in power.”
Buck doubled down on his comments the next day, saying, “For those torn up over my tweet, I stand by it 100%. My problem is her godless character. She not only is the most radical pro-abortion VP ever, but also most radical LGBT advocate. She performed one of the first Lesbian ‘marriages.’ Pray for her, but don’t praise her!”
Understood in the context of the attack on women’s rights by Christian nationalists and their allies, giving Harris the name Jezebel connects the biblical threats with the move to criminalise abortion access and even divorce – to take power away from women and restore it to the patriarchal Christian structure.
So, when Christian nationalists urge their followers to “confront this Jezebel spirit” we can’t forget that confronting Jezebel is violent – in the Bible confronting Jezebel means her death or her rape. These veiled threats should not be taken lightly.
Femicide is an ongoing crisis. A woman is killed by a man every three days in the UK and three women are killed by men every day in North America. Sexual violence against women is also rampant and is a weapon in the patriarchal arsenal for subduing independent women.
Calling a powerful woman like Harris a Jezebel, then, isn’t just an offensive slur – it carries with it the persistent threat of racist violence and sexual assault.
M.J.C. Warren 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.
Source: The Conversation – UK – By Giacomo Biggio, Lecturer in Law, University of Bristol Law School, University of Bristol
Recent incidents involving the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) and the United Nations Interim Forces in Lebanon (Unifil) have raised an important question. Can Israel lawfully target UN peacekeepers and premises in Lebanon, or would that constitute a war crime? To answer that question, it’s worth looking at the rules of International Humanitarian Law and how they relate to these apparent attacks by the IDF.
First though, some background. Since Israeli troops entered Lebanon on October 1, there have been a number of incidents where IDF units have apparently targeted Unifil positions in southern Lebanon. This happened most recently on October 20, when the UN reported that “an IDF bulldozer deliberately demolished an observation tower and perimeter fence of a UN position” in Marwahin, near Lebanon’s border with Israel.
Israel has repeatedly called for Unifil units to withdraw from the area. But, according to a UN statement of October 22: “Despite the pressure being exerted on the mission and our troop-contributing countries, peacekeepers remain in all positions.” The UN statement added that: “breaching a UN position and damaging UN assets is a flagrant violation of international law and Security Council resolution 1701. It also endangers the safety and security of our peacekeepers in violation of international humanitarian law.”
Getting to grips with the legal position involved here begins by looking at the principle of “distinction”. This requires a party to the conflict to distinguish at all times between civilian and combatants, and between civilian objects and military objectives.
A combatant is everyone who is a member of the armed forces of a party to the conflict, with the exception of medical and religious personnel. In turn, the notion of armed forces comprises all organised armed forces, groups and units which are under a command responsible to that party for the conduct of its subordinates. Everyone who falls outside this category is considered a civilian.
So, are Unifil peacekeepers combatants or civilians? Despite Unifil being armed and under military command, it is a peacekeeping force and not a party to the conflict. Unifil is mandated by UN security council resolution 1701. It operates with the consent of its host state, Lebanon, and in accordance with the principles of neutrality, impartiality and limited use of force.
Since the war between Israel and Hezbollah ended in 2006, its job has been to confirm Israel’s withdrawal from southern Lebanon, ensure that the government of Lebanon exercises effective authority in the area and prevent the entry of weapons into the region. Crucially, Unifil is not engaged in hostilities with either the IDF or Hezbollah. So it is not a party to the conflict.
From this it follows that Unifil peacekeepers must be considered civilians and enjoy protection from attack. So they cannot be intentionally attacked by the IDF unless they engage in conduct amounting to “direct participation in hostilities” (DPH).
The state of the conflict in southern Lebanon, October 22 2024. Institute for the Study of War
For conduct to qualify as DPH, it must either kill or injure a party to an armed conflict, or destroy or damage a protected object. This must be deliberate, intentional and result directly from the action of the person accused.
In practice, this means that a peacekeeper would be committing DPH by, for example, shooting on IDF soldiers with the intent of affecting their military operations. If that was the case, a peacekeeper would lose protection from attack, but only for the time they engage in the conduct amounting to DPH. After this conduct has ended, they would regain protection from attack.
Crucially, Unifil peacekeepers have never fired on IDF soldiers. If they did perhaps return fire from IDF soldiers, they would acting in self defence, rather than with the intention of affecting the IDF’s military operations. So their actions would not be sufficient for them to be regarded as combatants and they’d still be protected as civilians.
What is a legitimate military target?
The same conclusion can be reached with regards to IDF attacks on Unifil’s premises. These qualify as civilian objects and are protected from direct attack. Only military objectives are legitimate targets because, according to IHL, they make “an effective contribution to military action” and their capture, destruction or neutralisation offers a definite military advantage.
Clearly, that is not the case for Unifil posts. So attacking Unifil peacekeepers and premises would violate the principle of distinction and qualify as a war crime under the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court. So, intentionally demolishing a Unifil watchtower with an IDF bulldozer, as happened recently, appears to qualify as a war crime, despite the claim that there was a Hezbollah weapons cache near the watchtower.
It’s worth adding that peacekeepers and their premises must be the intended target of the attack for it to be a violation of the principle of distinction. If the IDF’s target was – as claimed – a nearby Hezbollah weapons cache, which clearly qualifies as a military objective, any resulting damage to peacekeepers or their premises must be evaluated under the principle of “proportionality” and must not exceed the military advantage anticipated from the attack. Once again, launching an attack with the knowledge it would cause excessive incidental damage would amount to a war crime.
In the confusion of an IDF offensive in southern Lebanon it’s impossible to ascertain all the details beyond reasonable doubt. Knowing what actually happened is one thing. But once the fog of war lifts and the details become clear, so will the judgment of international law.
Giacomo Biggio 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.
“Like walking around in a weird, beautiful funhouse.” That’s how Tim Burton described his private viewing of The World of Tim Burton at the exhibition’s opening at London’s Design Museum.
A travelling circus that initially took shape at New York’s Museum of Modern Art in 2009 and has since visited 14 cities in 11 countries, the exhibition now reaches its grand finale in expanded, remixed form in Burton’s adopted hometown. At the press conference, he admitted to feeling somewhat anxious about it. This points to one of the underlying tensions of the exhibition itself – the contrast between laying bare an intensely personal creative process, and Burton’s global megastar status.
The exhibition’s collaboration with the Design Museum has enabled its re-framing as an exploration of Burton’s “design practice” (in curator Maria McClintock’s words). It traces the complex path from Burton’s initial sketches to their realisation on screen.
In this respect, the exhibition is successful. Visitors get a sense of the holistic development of Burton’s ideas from preliminary drawings to their realisation by puppet-makers and set and costume designers. Unrealised film projects and personal artworks are also included. This provides a unique insight into the director’s creative process.
The work itself, moreover, is joyous – a riot of colour and fizzing line. The Burton that emerges is restlessly inventive. We see not only his prolific sketches in pen and ink and watercolour but also his experiments across media with collage, pastels, oils, acrylics on velvet, home movies, photography, children’s picture books and comic verse.
Some of the most thrilling items are the most personal – teen fan art, scribbles on table napkins, university lecture notes. These offer an impression of intimacy, of unadulterated creativity bubbling up from some hidden wellspring of the subconscious. The staging of the exhibition enhances this impression. Skewed doorways and chequerboard floors suggest that the art is spilling out of the frame into the space of the gallery, evoking the “funhouse” feel that Burton commented on.
The exhibition is invested in the notion of Burton as auteur, supported by a loyal team of creatives, many of whom are showcased here. One highlight is rows of Jack Skellington heads with different facial expressions, devised by stop-motion animators Mackinnon and Saunders for The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993). Elsewhere, there is a genuine frisson in seeing Bob Ringwood and Mary Vogt’s iconic costume for Catwoman in Batman Returns (1992), now so fragile that it can only be laid flat, and looking uncannily like shed skin.
The indisputable star among Burton’s collaborators, however, is costume designer Colleen Atwood. Her spectacular ensembles for Edward Scissorhands (1990), Mars Attacks! (1996), Sleepy Hollow (1999), Alice in Wonderland (2010) and Wednesday (2022) dominate the central room of the exhibition. Someone please give her a show of her own.
Missed opportunities
Where the exhibition is less successful is in its attempts to place Burton in a wider cultural framework. Burton’s influences are covered patchily and explained poorly. Vincent Price is conflated with Hammer Horror (he never made a film with Hammer Studios) and the theoretical concept of the carnivalesque is misunderstood.
A more thorough exploration of the horror traditions on which Burton draws – particularly German expressionism and Roger Corman’s Edgar Allan Poe adaptations – would have been welcome. The focus on Burton’s drawings also begs closer attention to the illustrative traditions he is indebted to, from Ralph Steadman to Charles Addams and Edward Gorey. To neglect this is to diminish Burton’s skill as an artist who consciously reworks the American gothic tradition into a distinctive new form.
The final room, “Burtonesque”, has the potential to be the most interesting. It explores the way that Burton’s aesthetic has become distinctive enough to be recognisable in the work of other artists.
Ultimately, however, it shies away from asking searching questions about stylistic transferability and influence. Rather, it looks at Burton’s collaborations with artists in other media, whether fashion designer Alexander McQueen, photographer Tim Walker, or rock band The Killers.
These are interesting in their own right but crucially, Burton is still involved in this process. The traditional exit through the gift shop reveals another side to Burton, in which his highly recognisable aesthetic has lent itself to merchandise with varying degrees of connection to the original source. The director has been vocal about the exploitation of his work by AI. But is this, in today’s culture, the logical end-point of the “Burtonesque”?
The exhibition avoids any kind of investigation of the Burton brand, or even of Burton’s influence on a new generation of creators. In doing so, it misses what is one of the most fascinating paradoxes about Burton: that an artist who is so preoccupied with the figure of the outsider has been so widely embraced, with such immense commercial success.
Burton’s work raises serious questions about the role and popularity of gothic imagery in 21st-century culture, but this exhibition is content to stick with the funhouse thrills.
Looking for something good? Cut through the noise with a carefully curated selection of the latest releases, live events and exhibitions, straight to your inbox every fortnight, on Fridays. Sign up here.
Catherine Spooner has previously received funding from the Arts and Humanities Research Council for a related project.
While much of the intense media coverage of the UK government’s freebies scandal might be attributable to overzealous scrutiny by a predominantly right-of-centre printed press, there is at least one important issue at the heart of all this.
It should be acknowledged that the gifts are in line with existing regulations – and also arguably less controversial than some of the donations received by members of former Conservative governments. But this Labour government sold itself as something different.
Several frontbench figures, including prime minister Keir Starmer and deputy prime minister Angela Rayner focused heavily on their working-class credentials ahead of the election. They were doing so to reinforce the message that they are infinitely more in tune with regular people than the Tories.
Several Labour ministers have accepted donations and freebies from big business and wealthy individuals. Lord Alli lent Starmer his £18m London flat and a New York property to Rayner for a holiday. Several Labour MPs were given tickets to Taylor Swift concerts, and perhaps more importantly, £4 million was donated to the Labour party by Quadrature – a tax-haven-based hedge fund with shares in the arms manufacturing, private healthcare and fossil fuel industries.
Want more politics coverage from academic experts? Every week, we bring you informed analysis of developments in government and fact check the claims being made.
The obvious question is why these companies and wealthy individuals have made these donations and what they expect in return. People don’t make political donations out of the kindness of their hearts. They often expect something in return, whether in the form of a seat in the House of Lords or a lucrative state contract.
Even in cases where there is no reciprocity, there are deeper questions of professional and political ethics that arise from donations. And fair or not, those questions are more pressing for a Labour government.
There is, first of all, a matter of perception during a cost of living crisis. Labour MPs have just voted to keep the two-child benefit cap and remove universal winter fuel payments. Against this backdrop, it’s not a stretch to suggest accepting glamorous gifts creates a distance between lawmakers and the people they govern.
But beyond that perception is the fact that living a privileged life may have a material effect on an MP’s outlook. There is a significant body of evidence showing that upward social mobility leads people towards more rightwing views on the economy.
That may be particularly true of politicians. For this group, the trajectory is the most extreme. If you start from a working-class position in society and end up being part of the group that effectively leads that society, your vantage point could not be more different. You are less likely to try to change the status quo that is now the source of your own social and financial benefits.
To be fair, research my colleagues and I conducted shows that working-class origins have a lingering effect on an MP’s outlook when they enter parliament. They are more likely to take an interest in issues that are important to working-class voters, for example.
But this effect is diluted by party discipline, such as when MPs are whipped to vote in a certain way (such as on benefits). Social mobility, and in particular a simmering angst about falling back down the social ladder, also shapes these MPs’ decisions.
Closing the experience gap
It doesn’t have to be this way. In the 1980s, one of the most leftwing and working-class Labour MPs at the time, Terry Fields, ran and won an election on the slogan “a worker’s MP on a worker’s wage” – pledging to only draw a salary equivalent to a fireman’s and to donate the remainder.
While this could be dismissed as performative populism from a politician looking to prove that he’s a “man of the people”, there is a deeper rationale at work here. Arguably, you can’t truly represent the interests of working-class people if you live in considerably better material conditions, cut off from the daily experience and living standards of those people.
How can you fully understand what working-class people and communities go through and, thereby, what kind of policies they need, if you live in a parallel reality to theirs?
This is not to argue that MPs should give up their salaries or that they’re incapable of empathy, but it does show why freebies are such a glaring problem for a new government.
Working-class people have, themselves, indicated that this experience gap matters to them. Their political alienation over the past few decades has been fuelled by their sense that they do not recognise themselves in the current political elite and the inequality-enhancing policies the elite have been enacting.
The last election recorded one of the highest abstention rates (and according to at least one estimate, actually the highest) since the introduction of universal suffrage.
And should a political party remain unmoved by those statistics, there is the small matter of electoral survival. Taken more cynically, working-class communities have become the electoral battlegrounds of the modern era.
There are not many promising signs so far that the new Labour government is up to the task of representing the working class once again – even the recent workers’ rights legislation has been criticised as falling short by some of the trade unions. And while there’s a long way to go before we know if the freebies scandal will end up costing Labour support at the next election, it certainly won’t be counted as a bonus.
Vladimir Bortun 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.
An emo music retrospective has been a long time coming. There has been extensive work before now to archive and celebrate the cultural memory of this 2004-09 scene, whose name is short for emotional hardcore, but rarely has it been the sole focus of a public exhibition in the UK.
The exhibition claims to focus on “a pivotal era when [US] bands like My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy and Finch sparked a transatlantic exchange, fuelling a distinct UK movement led by acts such as Funeral for a Friend”. Indeed the exhibition’s title is borrowed from a My Chemical Romance song of the same name. These are all bands that, to my delight as an emo fan, toured the UK in recent years, reflecting the ongoing appreciation and demand for such music.
Much more than just spotlighting bands and musicians, the Museum of Youth Culture’s exhibition takes visitors on a trip down memory lane. It allows you to revisit digital culture from the days of file-sharing software like Limewire and the blogging and social media sites Myspace, LiveJournal and Xanga.
The retrospective is a snapshot of the world of emo around 20 years ago, shaped by people’s recollections of their bedrooms, youth and digital culture, in addition to depictions of emo gigs and gatherings.
I’m Not Okay, the 2004 song by My Chemical Romance that the exhibition is named for.
The exhibition charts key points in emo’s 2000s era, from its origins in Washington DC’s post-hardcore scene in the mid-1980s. By bringing together people’s memories of emo from various parts of the world, the exhibition also tracks the ways that the internet, fandom and globalisation were experienced then.
This is captured by the opening line of text displayed at the beginning of the retrospective: “I’m Not Okay is a rallying cry from a generation whose identity was spread across virtual infinities against the uncertain futures of a new millennium.”
No one’s 20s and 30s look the same. You might be saving for a mortgage or just struggling to pay rent. You could be swiping dating apps, or trying to understand childcare. No matter your current challenges, our Quarter Life series has articles to share in the group chat, or just to remind you that you’re not alone.
In the exhibition, excerpts from people who embraced emo in the 2000s (and beyond) paint a picture of digital culture as being key to the genre’s beating heart. The importance of early social media sites such as MySpace and Bebo is mentioned several times.
Despite its relatively small scale, the Barbican show covers lots of different dimensions of emo between 2004 and 2009. It touches on matters as diverse as the rise of smartphones, the messiness of MSN messenger and online forums, and the specifics of being Black and emo.
Emo at home and abroad
Many of the memories documented in the exhibition point to the way that music and popular culture from North America had, and continues to have, a significant impact on youth culture and music in the UK. But the retrospective also makes clear that there was and is no absence of homegrown talent, spirit and scenes. These subcultures are firmly rooted in the realities of local life in the UK.
In the 2000s, emo emerged and developed in distinctly regional as well as national ways. Stories about its uniqueness in certain towns, cities and states, sit alongside memories of learning about and yearning to experience its idiosyncrasies in different countries.
Paramore were one of the few female-fronted emo bands of the 2000s.
Statements adorning the exhibition walls include people’s recollections of growing up in rural areas, where they were one of few emo kids. Again, what ties those thoughts together is the role of the internet in connecting people to and through emo, as well as the meaningfulness of trips to nearby bigger places with more of an underground scene.
Within such retrospective reflections are memories of young people’s experiences of a third place. Places that are not home and not a place of study or work, such as public squares, skate parks and club nights, that have increasingly diminished, been unfunded, or become more policed since the 2000s. Through these reflections, the show examines how places and spaces – both online and offline – have changed since the 2000s, in ways that impact young people and music today.
I’m Not Okay: An Emo Retrospective takes seriously the significance and brilliance of emo. Illuminating elements of youth culture, digital culture and the layered history of emo music and subcultures, this retrospective is a reminder that while the internet of the past is long gone, emo remains alive and kicking.
Looking for something good? Cut through the noise with a carefully curated selection of the latest releases, live events and exhibitions, straight to your inbox every fortnight, on Fridays. Sign up here.
Francesca Sobande received Impact Acceleration funding from UKRI in 2024, towards a project that involves collaborating with the Museum of Youth Culture.
Language can give people the power to take an active part in their own healthcare, or it can create barriers.
Effective communication raises awareness about diseases and is key to delivering good care to patients.
Yet in many African settings, this aspect of care is often overlooked.
Take cancer, for example. Understanding how cancer is discussed in various languages and cultural contexts is crucial. Better communication about the disease can reduce fear and stigma, improve patient outcomes and promote more informed decision-making.
The cancer burden in Africa is rising at a faster rate than anywhere else in the world. In a region where around 2,000 languages are spoken, the way cancer is communicated is important.
I am an epidemiologist and global health researcher who recently coauthored a paper about the way cancer terminology is expressed in African languages.
The findings suggest that translations of key terms, including “cancer”, “malignant”, “chronic” and “radiotherapy”, commonly conveyed elements of fear and tragedy. And that the words used may contribute to fear, health disparities and barriers to care, and pose communication difficulties for health professionals.
The results reinforce the need for culturally sensitive cancer terminology. This would improve cancer awareness and communication.
For cancer patients, the words used to describe their diagnosis and treatment can affect how they perceive their condition, their willingness to seek treatment, and their interaction with healthcare providers.
A study on cancer terminology
Our study investigated translations of cancer-related terms from various African languages and explored their cultural significance. We surveyed 107 healthcare professionals, community health workers and researchers from 32 African countries, representing 44 languages.
Participants were asked to provide translations of 16 common medical terms in their local languages and explain what those terms meant. These were terms like “cancer”, “radiotherapy”, “metastasis” and “survival”.
Results revealed a diversity of terminology and translations. Many local terms contained linguistic references that reflected cultural and social contexts.
Fear and stigma
The findings uncovered a striking pattern: many cancer-related terms carried deeply negative connotations. Often they were associated with fear, tragedy and incurability. Some translations even had malevolent spiritual meanings.
The term “cancer” is often associated with weightiness. It creates a feeling of being overwhelming, unbeatable and frequently final.
Terms like “malignant” and “chronic” carry similar weight, frequently coming with ideas of hopelessness and fatality.
What if the treatment meant to save your life sounded as terrifying as the disease itself?
One example in our study was the translation of “radiotherapy”. In several languages, the term was associated with burning – being scorched by fire, heat or electricity.
Such associations can make treatments seem more frightening than they are. They might deter patients from seeking the care they need.
Rich expressions to draw from
One fascinating example of how language shapes the understanding of cancer comes from a Ugandan participant. Their translation of “metastasis” (meaning “spread”) in Luganda was ekiziba kyasindika obwana bwayo ahare. This means “the mother mass has sent seedlings into another site”.
This vivid metaphor, deeply rooted in the local idioms and proverbs, likens the spread of cancer to the dispersal of seedlings from a central plant.
It shows how African languages can convey complex medical concepts through culturally resonant expressions.
In other instances cancer was referred to as the “wound with which we will be buried” (translated from Wolof), “forest disease” (translated from Djerma) and “parasitic plant” (translated from Shona).
These expressions extend beyond literal translation, providing valuable insights into how cultures think of cancer as a powerful and pervasive force in the natural world.
What next?
The study highlights the importance of cultural sensitivity in cancer communication.
When the language used to describe cancer and its treatments instils fear or perpetuates stigma, it becomes harder for healthcare workers to provide effective care.
Patients may delay seeking treatment, struggle to understand their condition, or feel hopeless about their prognosis.
Efforts to overcome stigmatising language during the early years of the HIV epidemic in Africa can serve as a blueprint for improving cancer communication.
Initiatives like the Stop TB Partnership’s Tuberculosis Language Guide offer lessons on using non-stigmatising terminology, which could be adapted to oncology.
Programmes such as the American Cancer Society’s patient education initiatives and the International Atomic Energy Agency’s Rays of Hope radiotherapy programme highlight the potential for positive language alternatives and effective translations in African cancer care.
The language used to communicate about cancer also matters because it can make a difference to health disparities.
Linguists, healthcare professionals and cultural leaders should work together to create new terminologies or adapt existing ones to be more neutral or positive.
Such efforts could pave the way for more compassionate, effective and culturally aligned healthcare communication across the continent.
Hannah Simba 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.
South African Grammy winner Tyla is proud of her Coloured identity.Emma McIntyre/Getty Images for The Recording Academy
South African singer-songwriter Tyla made history in February 2024 when she won the inaugural Grammy for Best African Music Performance.
Her win was celebrated at home. But the 22-year-old sparked controversy in the US by referring to herself as “Coloured”. There, the word is a slur dating back to the Jim Crow era, when state and local laws enforced racial discrimination against African Americans. In South Africa it has a very different meaning – and, by claiming her Coloured identity, Tyla has become an inspiration for many Coloured people who have long felt underrepresented in public life.
In South Africa, Coloured people are typically understood to be a group that encompasses geographically diverse ancestries. The Coloured community was positioned between white and Black in apartheid’s racial hierarchy of privilege.
During the 1970s and onwards, in an effort to unify anti-apartheid resistance, activists like Steve Biko sought to collapse any distinctions between oppressed groups. They encouraged anyone who was not white to identify as “Black”.
In recent years many people have reclaimed the term “Coloured” to discuss their identity and culture. The latest South African census indicated that there are more than 5 million people across the country who identify as Coloured.
Tyla’s comments are just one example of how “Colouredness” has, in the past few years, found a new voice in South African society. The electoral success of the Patriotic Alliance, which claims to be “born in the heart of the Coloured community”, is another. The highly acclaimed 2023 book Coloured by Lynsey Ebony Chutel and Tessa Dooms also brought conversations about Coloured identity to the fore.
I research the relationship between history and identity in societies that have experienced conflict. I wanted to know how society’s increasingly positive perceptions of the term “Coloured” are playing out in South Africa’s school history curriculum.
My resulting research presents a worrying picture. The way that Coloured identity is discussed in textbooks and curricula is leading young self-described Coloured people to believe that their history – and therefore their identity – is shameful.
The research
My research involved 10 months of ethnographic observation in two predominantly Coloured schools in Cape Town. I also analysed the history curricula and textbooks used in these schools, as well as repeatedly interviewing five grade 9 students, aged 14 and 15, and their history teachers from each school to understand their views on apartheid history and racial identity.
There is no mention of the word “Coloured” in the grade 9 South African curriculum assessment policy statements for History. In contrast, the racial terms “white”, “Black” and “Indian” are mentioned 11, 44, and nine times respectively. In my analysis of the four most commonly used grade 9 history textbooks, Coloured identity is referred to, but infrequently. The Pearson textbook, for example, explains that “when we refer to ‘black’ South Africans in this topic [apartheid], it refers to African people, ‘Coloured’ people and Indian people”. It continues:
The apartheid government found it hard to define race, especially when it came to what they called ‘Coloured’ people. The word ‘Coloured’ is controversial and possibly insulting, so here we have used it in inverted commas. (2013, p. 175)
Subsuming Coloured identity into Black identity, and referring to the term “Coloured” as “insulting”, makes it difficult to learn about the lives and contributions of those who identified as Coloured.
For example, all four textbooks contain photographs of Sophia Williams (later Sophia Williams-De Bruyn) and list her as one of the organisers of the 1956 Women’s March, during which 20,000 women marched to the government buildings to protest against racist laws.
But all four textbooks fail to mention that Williams was classified in terms of apartheid laws as Coloured, identified as Coloured, was a full-time organiser for the Coloured People’s Congress in Johannesburg, and was assigned by the Coloured People’s Congress to work on issues relating to the 1950 Population Registration Act.
So a student using these textbooks might learn about Williams – but still believe that Coloured people made no contribution to ending apartheid.
Shame and lack of interest
This denial of Coloured identity continued in the schools where I conducted ethnographic fieldwork. Teachers in a school on the Cape Flats – with a student population that overwhelmingly identified as Coloured – still referred to the school as a “Black school” by virtue of its involvement in the anti-apartheid struggle.
The grade 9 history teacher, for example, taught that “the apartheid government gave us labels”, and that “if we didn’t cooperate [by uniting under a Black identity] then South Africa would be a failure”. This statement positioned the students’ distinct Coloured identity as being in opposition to South Africa’s success.
When the teacher spoke about anti-apartheid struggle heroes, his students frequently complained that life was better under apartheid, and when he espoused ideas of non-racialism, they shook their heads. All of this suggested that the students were actively resisting South Africa’s founding narrative: that brave South Africans united to overcome the darkness of apartheid, and to found a democratic rainbow nation.
My interviews with students from this school suggested that they felt no connection to South Africa’s history. When I asked about his family’s experiences during apartheid, Lester (aged 14) replied that “they were just a normal Coloured family. Nothing interesting.”
In another school, a slim majority of students identified as Coloured. Again, Coloured history was not explicitly taught. Students felt alienated from Coloured history in different ways. Bahir (aged 15), for example, felt shame and discomfort about his Coloured identity. When I asked him whether he wished he could study more Coloured history, he declined:
I actually wouldn’t want to like hear such a thing as slavery … I don’t actually like to hear that my family was put into that like category or something.
The only Coloured history Bahir could consider was one of enslavement.
Deborah (aged 14), meanwhile, suspected that there might be a proud Coloured history of anti-apartheid resistance, but assumed it hadn’t been written yet. She attributed the lack of Coloured pride among her classmates to a lack of historical scholarship.
If I had a reason for why people do not want to be Coloureds, it’s because they don’t have a status, and they don’t have history that’s jotted down also.
Catching up
One thing was clear from my research: the absence of Coloured identity in history curriculum, textbooks, or lesson plans did not stop students from identifying as Coloured. However, they felt confused, ashamed or alienated from their history and South Africa’s history.
Tyla and others are proudly, loudly defending their right to identify as Coloured. It’s time for South Africa’s history curriculum to catch up.
Natasha Robinson receives funding from the ESRC and the British Academy.
A photograph archived at the Center for Southwest Research at the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque shows a group of Indigenous students who attended the Ramona Industrial School in Santa Fe.AP Photo/Susan Montoya Bryan
I am a direct descendant of family members that were forced as children to attend either a U.S. government-operated or church-run Indian boarding school. They include my mother, all four of my grandparents and the majority of my great-grandparents.
On Oct. 25, 2024, Joe Biden, the first U.S. president to formally apologize for the policy of sending Native American children to Indian boarding schools, called it one of the most “horrific chapters” in U.S. history and “a mark of shame.” But he did not call it a genocide.
Yet, over the past 10 years, many historians and Indigenous scholars have said that what happened at the Indian boarding schools “meets the definition of genocide.”
From the 19th to 20th century, children were physically removed from their homes and separated from their families and communities, often without the consent of their parents. The purpose of these schools was to strip Native American children of their Indigenous names, languages, religions and cultural practices.
As an Indigenous scholar who studies Indigenous history and the descendant of Indian boarding school survivors, I know about the “horrific” history of Indian boarding schools from both survivors and scholars who contend they were places of genocide.
Was it genocide?
The United Nations defines “genocide” as the “intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group.” Scholars have researched different cases of genocide of Indigenous peoples in the United States.
Historian Jeffery Ostler, in his 2019 book “Surviving Genocide,” argues that the unlawful annexation of Indigenous lands, the deportation of Indigenous peoples and the numerous deaths of children and adults that occurred as they walked hundreds of miles from their homelands in the 19th century constitute genocide.
The mass killings of Indigenous peoples after gold was found in the 19th century in what is now California also constitutes genocide, writes historian Benjamin Madley in his 2017 book “An American Genocide.” At the time, a large migration of new settlers to California to mine gold brought with it the killing and displacement of Indigenous peoples.
Other scholars have focused on the forced assimilation of children at Indian boarding schools. Sociologist Andrew Woolford argues that scholars need to start calling what happened at Indian boarding schools in the 19th and 20th century “genocide” because of the “sheer destructiveness of these institutions.”
Woolford, a former president of the International Association of Genocide Scholars, explains in his 2015 book “This Benevolent Experiment” that the goal of Indian boarding schools was the “forcible transformation of multiple Indigenous peoples so that they would no longer exist as an obstacle (real or perceived) to settler colonial domination on the continent.”
First- and second-grade students sit in a classroom at the former Genoa Indian Industrial School in Genoa, Neb. Researchers are now trying to locate the bodies of more than 80 Native American children buried near the school. National Archives/AP
Indigenous writers have explained how this transformation at Indian boarding schools occurred. “Federal agents beat Native children in such schools for speaking Native languages, held them in unsanitary conditions, and forced them into manual and dangerous forms of labor,” writes Indigenous law professor Maggie Blackhawk.
What my grandmother witnessed
Secretary of the Interior Debra Anne Haaland has stated that every Native American family has been impacted by the “trauma and terror” of Indian boarding schools. And my family is no different.
One of the more horrific stories that my maternal grandmother shared with her grandchildren was that she witnessed the death of another student. They were both under the age of 10. The student died of poisoning after lye soap was put in her mouth as a punishment for speaking her Indigenous language.
We know that similar punishments happened and children died at Indian boarding schools. The Department of Interior reported in 2024 that 973 children died at Indian boarding schools.
A worker digs for the suspected remains of children who once attended the Genoa Indian Industrial School, on July 11, 2023, in Genoa, Neb. AP Photo/Charlie Neibergall
Lasting legacy
The U.S. government is beginning to encourage survivors to tell their stories of their Indian boarding school experiences. The Department of the Interior is in the process of recording and documenting their stories on digital video, and they will be placed in a government repository.
At 84 years old, my mother is the only living Indian boarding school survivor in our family. She shared her story with the Department of the Interior this past summer, as did dozens of other survivors.
“For too long, this nation sought to silence the voices of generations of Native children,” Biden added at the apology ceremony, “but now your voices are being heard.”
As a descendant of Indian boarding school survivors, I appreciate President Biden’s apology and his effort to break the silence. But, I am also convinced that what my mother, grandmother and other survivors experienced was genocide.
Rosalyn R. LaPier does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
The Alberta Legislature has reconvened for its fall sitting, and the United Conservative Party is expected to table new anti-2SLGBTQIA+ legislation that will restrict trans women and girls’ access to sports, curtail inclusive education and ban youth from accessing gender affirming care.
Some of the potential measures include banning puberty blockers for youth, and having parents opt-in for their children to be present for formal lessons on sexual health. In addition, trans women could be banned from competing in women’s sports.
Despite growing awareness that “parental rights” proponents are connected to a larger network of dangerous hate groups including the Proud Boys, The Patriot Front and the neo-Nazi group Blood Tribe, provincial conservative governments and parties in New Brunswick, Saskatchewan, Alberta and British Columbia have introduced anti-2SLGBTQIA+ policies inspired by this movement.
As concerned parents, we have been following how the “parental rights” movement is influencing provincial government policies. As researchers, we have been publishing our analysis about the rise in anti-2SLGBTQIA+ sentiments in Alberta for the past two years.
In early 2024, Alberta Premier Danielle Smith announced her government will implement new policies relating to transgender youth.
Our conversations with parents
As the parental rights movement and associated anti-2SLGBTQIA+ legislation are new, scholars and other organizations are just beginning to publish findings showing the harm they have created. For example, a recently published academic study from the United States found that in states where anti-transgender laws legislation has been enacted, suicide attempts among transgender and non-binary youth have increased by up to 72 per cent.
Academic scholarship about the impact of anti-2SLGBTQIA+ legislation in Canada does not yet exist. This gap in knowledge motivated us to undertake a research project that could capture the experiences of parents as this new “parental rights” legislation rolls out.
Set in Calgary, Alberta, our ongoing study involves 10 parents from 2SLGBTQIA+ families who have committed to bi-monthly focus groups over the period of a year. By facilitating conversations with parents, our aim is to track the short and long-term impacts of the anti-2SLGBTQIA+ climate in Alberta. The participants in our study are a mix of straight, cisgender, queer and trans parents. All of them are already experiencing the negative outcomes of Alberta’s move to legislate 2SLGBTQIA+ lives.
Below, we have used pseudonyms to protect their identities.
We held our first focus group in late September 2024 where we asked participants about their concerns related to the impending changes to education, health care and sports in the province. We also asked parents what they knew about the parental rights movement, and how the rhetoric of parental rights is affecting their families.
One of the overwhelming sentiments of the parents was that the parental rights movement excluded parents of 2SLGBTQIA+ kids. According to our participants, voices of 2SLGBTQIA+ parents and families are missing or silenced in the conversations around “protecting children.”
One participant, Maia, said: “There needs to be more representation of the parents especially because it’s a legislation that’s being fought on behalf of parents so we need to make our voices heard.”
Olivia similarly stated, “I feel like people keep talking for parents. I’m a parent and you’re not saying anything I think … so I just feel very unheard.”
When it came to parental rights, participants remarked that their parental choice to support their 2SLGBTQIA+ kids is not being protected. In fact, they felt their responsibility to protect their children from harm is being taken away by the provincial government that is making choices for their families.
Courtney stated: “It makes me really angry that our kid’s medical care can be adjusted based on the government. I work in health care. The thought that the government could step in and get a doctor to go against evidence-based medical care is … insanity.”
2SLGBTQIA+ youth express fear
According to the parents in our study, the impending legislation has stoked so much fear and anxiety in their children that their school experiences have already been negatively affected. Courtney’s trans child has missed a large chunk of school since the announcement of impending anti-2SLGBTQIA+ policies last February.
Another parent, Sophia, told us that her teenager’s overall well-being has “deteriorated” since the impending legislation was announced: “She has started self harming. She is missing school. She is terrified for what’s coming … even though she knows that for her she’s somewhat protected with her HRT [hormone replacement therapy], but it doesn’t mean that they’re not going to say something about bathrooms or that her friends are safe.”
Saskatchewan’s Conservative Premier Scott Moe recently promised to implement a new policy that would ban trans girls from school change rooms. In Alberta, the UCP’s policy resolutions for 2024 include a similar ban, but instead of focusing on schools, the party aims to remove trans women and girls from all “exclusively female spaces.”
Our research, while preliminary, demonstrates that harmful effects are already taking shape in Alberta, and parents in 2SLGBTQIA+ families are terrified of what is coming with the legislation dropping soon.
As the US presidential election inches closer, a recent survey found that the economy is the top issue for voters, and many are also concerned about healthcare, foreign policy and inequality. Amid all the noise about these key issues however, food has received only marginal coverage in the campaigning despite the country’s high cost of living.
Project 2025, a 900-page policy document produced by conservative thinktank the Heritage Foundation, has become a major talking point in the election campaign. Although Republican candidate Donald Trump has denied any links between his campaign and Project 2025, the people who have authored this document are no strangers to the former president, with more than half of the 307 contributors having served in the Trump administration or on his campaign or transition teams.
Trump’s Democratic rival in the race to the White House, Vice President Kamala Harris, has been very vocal about the dangers to the American people if the Project 2025 proposals were to be implemented. Instead, her campaign has promised an “opportunity economy” to support the American middle class, which will seek to cut prices and taxes, lower household costs, and offer various tax reliefs.
Analyses of Harris’ versus Trump’s economic policies suggest that the tariffs Trump has proposed will cause a rise in prices of imported goods – including food. On the other hand, Trump’s policies could lower energy costs because more domestic fossil fuel production could make US-produced foodstuffs cheaper.
But Project 2025 proposes deregulation of US dietary guidelines and US food assistance programmes, including Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (Snap), Women, Infants and Children Program (WIC), and the National School Lunch Program. Democrats have argued that this will “drastically reduce” the access that families have to fresh American-grown food, threatening the health of the most vulnerable.
Democrats have also claimed that Project 2025 policies would reduce support to small-scale farmers, favouring large agribusinesses while deregulating the flow of ultra-processed food manufactured and distributed by influential corporations. Some estimates suggest that 73% of US food supply is already made up of ultra-processed foods, and they have been found to provide 60% of the calories consumed by the average US adult.
The links between ultra-processed food and negative health outcomes are increasingly being drawn. As such, food policy under Project 2025 would be very likely to have a negative impact on wider public health in the US.
But at the same time, Project 2025 would probably make healthcare less affordable and more restrictive for millions of citizens. It promises to reinstate the ability of the pharmaceutical industry to fix prices, raising the cost of drugs for American people.
It would also cut funding for health coverage for low-income Americans, threatening the survival of hospitals, health centres or doctors who serve those people.
These healthcare policies, combined with deregulation of the food industry and dietary guidelines, as well as the defunding of food assistance programmes, could spell a triple whammy for the health and wellbeing of some of the most vulnerable people in America.
How do Harris’s plans compare?
Harris’s plans, on the other hand, aim to make healthcare less expensive and more accessible, particularly for those from vulnerable groups such as black Americans or those on low incomes, the elderly or veterans.
But while these proposals might remove barriers to healthcare, they won’t directly improve food provision for Americans. Some of the proposals in Harris’s “opportunity economy”, however, could directly address the issue.
The outcome of the presidential election could have serious consequences for food security and wellbeing – especially among America’s poorer populations. Tada Images/Shutterstock
Harris’s proposals focus on strengthening and diversifying supply chains for food production, processing and distribution. She has been outspoken about investigating price-fixing of food products by large corporations – and prosecuting firms anywhere in the supply chain where this is found to have happened.
Harris’s plans would also support small producers, processors, distributors, family farms and food and farm workers with more funding to compete with large conglomerates. This could result in more decentralised supply chains, which are known to make it easier to provide healthier food to more people by encouraging crop diversity and lowering the cost of fresh local products.
And she is promising to crack down on mergers and acquisitions of food corporations, which are known to compromise the sustainable provision of healthy food by curbing farmers’ bargaining power and leaving communities with little say over how their land is used.
Food is integral to the public sector economy, alongside things such as providing healthcare, protecting the environment and reducing inequalities. The organisation of the entire food system – from production to processing, trade to transport, and consumption to nutrition – needs to consider ways in which feeding a country can strenghten its public sector economy, and meet its obligation to the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals. The US has already made a commitment to these goals through global food security programmes like Feed the Future.
These issues are especially pertinent to the US, as its food system is highly centralised. In fact, 6% of farms grow 60% of food. Meanwhile family farms – which represent 88% of the total – contribute only 19%. Harris’s proposals could go some way to correcting this imbalance. But the rhetoric coming from her rivals on the other hand could ultimately end up making the US worse off in terms of food provision and health.
Shonil Bhagwat is a member of the UK Department for Environment Food & Rural Affairs Science Advisory Council: Social Science Expert Group and the National Trust, UK, Specialist Advice Network: Natural Environment Advisory Group. He has received funding from UK Research and Innovation (Research England, Natural Environment Research Council, Economic and Social Research Council), European Union Horizon 2020, The Leverhulme Trust, The Royal Society, and the British Ecological Society.
A staggering one in three people in England lack access to nature-rich spaces within a short walk from their homes. Now, a growing movement is bringing nature back to cities across the UK. The Miyawaki forest method involves planting a diverse mix of densely packed native woodland trees – or “tiny forests” – that grow quickly in small areas, around the size of a tennis court.
Already, there are more than 280 Miyawaki-style forests nationwide. Tucked away within housing estates, school grounds and wasteland on the urban edge, these urban forests are growing faster than conventionally planted trees.
This means that the forest has distinct layers from the slow-growing canopy species right down to the smaller shrubs and ground covering herbs. These habitats are self-sustaining, so after three to five years’ growth they apparently don’t need much maintenance.
The environmental charity Earthwatch Europe uses the Miyawaki method to plant tiny forests in urban areas. So far, with the help of local communities, they have planted 285 forests since 2022.
Some local councils and community groups are embracing this tiny forest revolution. At Tychwood in Witney, near Oxford, the UK’s first tiny forest now has an outdoor classroom area that’s used by schoolchildren and local residents who can work on citizen science projects and tree maintenance.
Since it was first planted in March 2020, the habitat has become home to insects, birds and lots of native plants such as oak, birch, crab apple, dogwood and goat willow.
But while a government-funded pilot project called Trees Outside Woodlands has received attention for its possible socio-environmental benefits, very little research has quantified how best to do this effectively. One report published by conservation charity the Tree Council shows that Miyawaki plots have significantly higher survival rates and are more cost-effective than non-Miyawaki plots. But lots of unknowns remain.
A climate of uncertainty
Despite recognition of the potential benefits, including carbon storage, biodiversity conservation and educational opportunities, there’s a lot of uncertainty about how to apply the tiny forest method in different climates, particularly in the UK.
Our recent study, published in the Arboricultural Journal, explores how suitable these tiny forests are within the UK context. Our interviews with 12 professionals (tree experts from academia or practitioners) reveal that while half of them supported the Miyawaki method, especially in specific urban areas such as schools and small parks, concerns remained about tree mortality and the high costs of buying saplings, prepping soil and maintaining trees. A few people told us that they could see potential in using unused farmland to establish tiny forests in rural settings too.
Climate adaptation is paramount and planting trees in urban environments has never been more important. Access to nature also improves people’s health and wellbeing, with green spaces helping to connect communities and reduce loneliness, as well as mitigate the negative effects of climate change, such as air pollution, heatwaves and flooding, and improve biodiversity.
As UK cities face both climate change and biodiversity loss, the tiny forest method offers a promising solution. There are still many challenges to overcome as this movement is still in its infancy – but it could be key to a greener, more resilient future.
Nicola Dempsey is on the Board of Green Estate, CIC, Secretary of the Sheffield Green Spaces Forum and a member of the Sheffield Street Tree Partnership.
Hanyu Qi 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.
America is in the grip of a crisis of truth and its political and electoral systems are under duress. Losing the connection between what is true and what is fiction could have enormous consequence in the middle of this US election campaign.
Academics refer to this as an epistemological crisis, a situation where different people believe different “truths” and it becomes difficult to get a shared understanding of key facts. This, they argue, can lead to polarisation and potentially, even, an ungovernable country, based on an inability to decide on what is factually correct.
Jonathan Rauch, the journalist and author of The Constitution of Knowledge: A Defense of Truth, says historically disagreement about what is true has, on some occasions, led to untold killing and suffering.
Right now in the US, it’s clear that there are massive differences in what people believe is true. Polls show, for instance, that around 69% of Republicans and Republican-leaning voters think the 2020 election result was not legitimate and that Joe Biden did not win.
This division is amplified by what is happening in and around the campaigns, and the use of new and developing techniques. The Trump campaign, for instance, continues to make claims that the 2020 election was stolen.
Sharing misinformation (that is, when inaccurate content is disseminated but not with the intent to mislead) has always been part of political life, but it is now quickly amplified by social media. Spreading disinformation takes this to the next level, when organisations or individuals deliberately spread lies. But the means to do so have grown more sophisticated, as demonstrated in the recent Moldovan election, where a massive Russian disinformation campaign was discovered.
History reminds us that fake news is at a premium during wartime and the world is currently experiencing two major conflicts. In both cases, the geopolitical consequences for the US are sky-high.
By spring 2024, US news media were reporting on Russia’s potential to interfere in the US election. The US administration’s position on the Ukraine war in particular matters greatly to the Kremlin, and it is no secret that a Donald Trump victory would suit Putin far better than a continuation of the Ukraine-funding Democrat alternative.
What is an epistemological crisis?
In September, US officials warned of election threats, not only from Russia but also Iran and China. Former director of the US Cyber-Security and Infrastructure Agency, Chris Krebs, stated that 2024 is “lining up to be a busy election interference season”. What makes these multi-faceted and constantly evolving threats even harder to manage is the fact that Maga influencers are embroiled in the proceedings. This makes a unified American response against an external threat all but impossible.
One recent such example involved a company in Tennessee which was used by members of the Russian state-owned broadcaster RT (formerly Russia Today) to spread Russia-friendly content. The content-creators were paid US$10 million (£7.7 million) by RT to publish pro-Russia videos in English on a range of social media platforms. The RT employees were charged with conspiracy to commit money laundering and violating the Foreign Agent Registration Act.
This is one of many developments by the foreign interference machine as the election on November 5 nears. Other incidents include dozens of internet domains used by the Kremlin to spread disinformation on websites designed to look like news sites and to undermine support for Ukraine. The US government response to these complex and boundary-blurring threats is complicated by the tension between maintaining discretion and informing the public.
Old challenges, new technology
Looking back, the 2016 presidential campaign and subsequent victory for Trump brought many firsts, some comical, others deadly serious in this post-truth arena. The lighter side included inaccurate claims made by White House press secretary Sean Spicer about the size of Trump’s 2017 inauguration crowd. When Trump advisor Kellyanne Conway declared on television to have “alternative facts” to those reported by the media on the crowd size, her phrase entered general use.
With hindsight, such falsehoods now seem a little quaint, as the images from the day told the truth better than any script. Far more disturbingly, Russia’s Project Lakhta involved a “hacking and disinformation campaign” described in Special Counsel Robert Mueller’s 2019 Report as vast and complex in scale. The scheme involved human and technological input and targeted politicians on the political left and right, with a view to causing maximum disruption. Just a year later, Russia interfered in the 2020 race, this time spreading falsehoods about Biden and working in Trump’s favour.
Fast forward to 2024 and we are awash with AI-created images and writing. Now any sort of lie is possible. Deep fakes, voice, image and video manipulation now mean that we literally can no longer believe our ears and eyes.
Kellyanne Conway on alternative facts.
Meanwhile, back on the campaign trail in 2024, Team Trump demonstrates few qualms when dishing out alternative facts. A long-time proponent of “truthful hyperbole” the former real-estate dealer takes exaggeration to a point no longer on the scale. From sharing an AI-generated image of Taylor Swift endorsing him (she soon backed his opponent) to claims that helicopters were not getting through with hurricane relief, the news cycle is awash with baseless content.
An inevitable outcome of this crisis and conflict over truth is voters’ confusion and disengagement, and increasing public tension, with a new poll reporting that the majority of Americans are expecting violence after the election.
Voters deserve to know whether what they know is real, but in this campaign it is increasingly clear that they don’t and the consequences of this could be stark.
Clodagh Harrington 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.
As it moves into the final week, the US election campaign remains so tight that most commentators are calling it a toss-up. But Donald Trump’s campaign may have just dealt itself its own “October surprise” – something no candidate for the US president wants as it stands for a last-minute disaster.
At his much anticipated “closing argument” rally at Madison Square Garden in New York City on October 27, various warm-up speakers engaged in strong, dark rhetoric about the state of the nation that laid the ground for Trump to take the stage and assert his position as the “protector”,“fixer”, and “liberator” of what he and his support base like to think of as an “occupied” country.
But the tone and content of the event was problematic from the start. Comedian Tony Hinchcliffe made opening remarks in which he described Puerto Rico as an “island of garbage”.
Deep offence at these remarks rippled across America’s Puerto Rican community and beyond. His slur on Puerto Rico drew condemnation across the political spectrum and mobilised a rash of new endorsements for the Harris-Walz campaign. The incident has raised the prospect of a Puerto Rican backlash that could well have an impact on the outcome of the election.
Tony Hinchcliffe: an October surprise?
Causing such deep offence to a significant minority population at a crucial moment in the campaign could have real consequences. Ultimately, the outcome of the election is determined by electoral college votes. These, in the end, will rely heavily on tallies across seven swing states: Arizona, Georgia, Michigan, Nevada, North Caroline, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin.
The outcome of the 2016 and 2020 elections, although the Democrats received far more votes than the Republicans in total (3 million and 7 million, respectively), came down to very close margins across these swing states. In 2020, Joe Biden won the electoral college vote across these seven states – but with an average of less than half a percentage point (0.47%).
Why Puerto Rico matters
Puerto Rico is what is known as an “unincorporated territory” of the United States. Since it is not a state, it does not have any electoral college votes. But Puerto Ricans are citizens of the United States – a status they have enjoyed since 1917 – and can move freely between Puerto Rico and the mainland.
Those who reside in Puerto Rico may not vote in federal elections, but those who do live in the United States are eligible to vote in the states where they are registered.
Historically Puerto Ricans have been more likely to support the Democrats. But their turnout has been in consistent in the past. And both campaigns have made special effort to target this group. If enough people take offence at Hinchcliffe’s remarks, this could have a significant impact on the election result.
Millions of Puerto Ricans have made successful lives and careers in the US. As of 2021, Puerto Ricans make up 2% of the US population (5.8 million, up from 4.7 million in 2010). Despite this relatively low percentage overall, it is the distribution of the Puerto Rican population that makes them important in the presidential election.
The table below shows the Puerto Rican population across swing states in 2024 as well as the number of electoral college votes that are up for grabs in each state and the winning vote margin for Joe Biden in 2020. The figures in the table are for the whole Puerto Rican population.
Across these seven swing states, it is clear that the distribution of Puerto Ricans is not insignificant. This is especially the case in the key state of Pennsylvania. The total number and proportion of Puerto Ricans living there is easily large enough to affect the marginal vote share needed to tip the state to one of the two main political parties, which has 19 electoral college votes.
It’s telling that the Harris-Walz campaign was in Pennsylvania actively courting Latino voters at the same time the rally was underway in New York. The rapid impact from the rally manifested in real time and included the endorsement of the Harris-Walz campaign from world-famous celebrities.
Shortly after the remarks at the rally, Bad Bunny, the world’s most-streamed musical artist on Spotify between 2020 and 2022, endorsed Harris, as did singer Ricky Martin and actress Jennifer Lopez, whose parents come from Puerto Rico.
Bad Bunny showed his support by resharing with his millions of social media followers a video of Harris speaking about Trump’s response to the devastating hurricanes Irma and Maria that ravaged Puerto Rico in 2017. Ricky Martin posted “Esto es lo que piensan en nosotros” (This is what they think of us) with a tag of “vote for @kamalaharris”.
In a race where margins of victory are extremely thin, a small island country like Puerto Rico with its special status and mobile voters may just tip the scales in Harris’s direction.
Todd Landman receives funding from International Justice Mission, US State Department Trafficking in Persons Office, J. Sainsbury’s Ltd., and the US National Institute for Justice. .
Games Workshop, the British company behind the tabletop war game Warhammer and its futuristic counterpart Warhammer 40,000 (also known as Warhammer 40k), is now worth in the region of £3.75 billion. And it counts among its fans celebrities like Henry Cavill, Brian May and the late Robin Williams.
The original Warhammer (known as Warhammer Fantasy Battle) was a fantasy tabletop miniature war-game. Released in 1983 it featured J.R.R. Tolkien-esque orc, goblin, dwarf and elf characters. A few years later, Games Workshop launched a science fiction version of the game, Warhammer 40k, where many of the fantasy races were re-imagined for a futuristic science fiction setting.
Historically, many fans of science fiction have looked down on Warhammer 40k as something of a niche interest, the darker, grimier cousin of the clean-cut American franchises of Star Wars and Star Trek. But things are starting to change. Warhammer 40k is now so much more than a simple tabletop battle game. It is a whole universe of rich and diverse characters of great depth, and it is supported by a body of literature.
Here are five reasons the Warhammer 40k franchise is as worthy of science fiction fandom as its American cousins.
1. The grand scope of its format
Warhammer 40k is no longer just a miniatures game. Rather, it is a complete fictional universe far grander in scope than any other science fiction universe that exists today.
This multi-modal format means that fans don’t just have to collect model miniatures to enjoy it. There are so many different formats available, including animations, role-playing and video games, as well as comic books and the extensive literary publications from the Black Library, the publishing arm of Games Workshop.
2. The franchise’s scale
Warhammer 40k universe is huge. And I mean, seriously huge. The Horus Heresy series – the key saga that sets the context for the “present day” universe – spans some 54 books, with a further ten books mapping out the series’ conclusion.
This is arguably the biggest single collective literary undertaking in all of science fiction. The series started in 2006 with the novel Horus Rising, and has now reached its conclusion, with just the final few books awaiting their paperback release.
3. Depth of storytelling
Make no mistake, Warhammer 40k is no simple battle of good versus evil. Rather, it is a universe of deep politics, philosophy and nuance, where even the so-called “good guys” are forced to make difficult choices in the name of survival.
This tension is encapsulated in the leader of the Imperium (humanity), known as The Emperor, who has sat atop his golden throne for more than 10,000 years. He is sustained by the ritual daily sacrifice of thousands of souls, who give up their lives in order that he continue his psychic battle with the forces of chaos in the psychic realm, known as The Warp.
Such depth has helped the universe flourish over many decades, providing a constant stream of ideas for fans to engage with, and characters to explore.
4. The grimdark aesthetic
Such has been the impact of the Warhammer 40k universe that it has even spawned its own unique sub-genre of science fiction and fantasy, known as grimdark. Spearheaded by legendary artist John Blanche, grimdark is characterised by its bleak aesthetic that calls back to a kind of primordial existence, where day-to-day survival is not guaranteed.
This sub-genre extends far beyond the realms of Warhammer, even shaping the work of bestselling fantasy novelists such as Joe Abercrombie, author of The First Law trilogy.
5. Research potential
Researchers are also now starting to take Warhammer seriously. In September, Germany hosted the world’s first academic conference dedicated to all things Warhammer. The conference attracted almost 60 speakers, with academics from across the globe looking at the universe through their own particular academic lens.
Meanwhile, the depth of academic literature on Warhammer is also growing rapidly. In my own research I often write about science fiction and its potential to help us think about complex problems in new ways. With Warhammer, I have been able to explore what it means to be a soldier, and the symbolic relationship between the soldier and the state. I do this by exploring the portrayal of 40k’s most iconic characters, the space marines – genetically enhanced super-soldiers who live a monk-like existence committed to waging endless war against the enemies of mankind.
The Prime series Secret Level will feature a Warhammer 40k episode.
Time to go mainstream
While it is fair to say that Warhammer 40k has so far been fairly underrepresented in science fiction circles, it seems the tide is finally starting to turn. Just last year Games Workshop signed a deal with Amazon to produce a TV series. There will also be a Warhammer 40k animation, due for release in December 2024. There have also been several important critical successes for 40k in the realm of video games, the most recent example being Space Marine II.
With the growth of the tabletop hobby, the continued success of licensed video games and with an Amazon series on the horizon, we are now at a point where Warhammer is about to go mainstream. No longer is it merely a game of rolling dice, and painting model miniatures. Rather now, it is a huge and deeply significant work of science fiction, and one that is worthy of being spoken about in the same way as its American peers.
Looking for something good? Cut through the noise with a carefully curated selection of the latest releases, live events and exhibitions, straight to your inbox every fortnight, on Fridays. Sign up here.
Mike Ryder 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.
Source: The Conversation – UK – By Adam de Paor-Evans, Research Lead at Rhythm Obscura / Lecturer in the School of Art, Design and Architecture, University of Plymouth
MC Duke (Kashif Adham) was a key figure in the development of hip-hop in Britain in the late 80s. When he died in April, British rap lost a giant. From the East End of London, Duke strengthened the evolution of the genre in the UK by relating directly to US hip-hop and an emerging British rap identity through his lyrics and visual style.
At the time of MC Duke’s arrival on the rap scene, British hip-hop was transitioning from the electro-based sound by London artists such as DSM, Three Wize Men and Family Quest, to a more sample-based style, much like the sounds of US artists Eric B. and Rakim and Biz Markie.
In this transition, Duke emerged as the frontrunner in this new generation due to his embrace of hip-hop’s visual tropes as much as his sound.
His first release, Jus-Dis landed in 1987 on Hard As Hell! Rap’s Next Generation, a compilation released on Music Of Life – a staple label for homegrown British talent. Jus-Dis presents Duke’s battle rap attitude through the diss track – a concept where the song’s narrative attacks another party.
His lyrics and wordplay on the song title present social commentary on Britain and its legal system: “There ain’t no law, there’s only jus-dis.” Duke also brought the idea of the diss to live audiences throughout the UK by accelerating the dispute with Overlord X, another pioneering British rapper, as part of his stage routine.
His first proper single release, Miracles, the next year, visually presented MC Duke and his DJ, DJ Leader 1, for the first time to audiences. The record sleeve depicts Duke donning a bright red goose jacket, a black leather cap, Cazal-style shades, gold rope chain and a name belt buckle – all highly sought-after attire in hip-hop fashion.
These fashion choices linked the US image of rap with an emerging British one. In the US, rap pioneers T La Rock and Kool Moe Dee had previously used similar accessories on album covers to denote a sense of identity. In the UK, graffiti writers and breakdancers particularly were sporting name belt buckles.
Miracles heavily samples The Jackson Sister’s I Believe In Miracles, which was a mainstay of the rare groove scene that developed in London during the early 80s. With the inclusion of vocal samples from Run-D.M.C.’s Run’s House and Public Enemy’s Bring The Noise, Miracles starts to bring together a transatlantic idea of hip-hop.
Got To Get Your Own based on Reuben Wilson’s song of the same name and MC Duke’s follow-up single, I’m Riffin (English Rasta) heavily samples Funky Like A Train (link) by Equals, again a core record from many rare groove playlists.
The introduction to I’m Riffin (English Rasta) is sampled from the powerful speech by American civil rights leader Jesse Jackson from Introduction (Complete). This immediately frames MC Duke’s lyrics with a sense of Black identity and history, as he raps: “Known to speak about men of freedom, Look for books on King and read ‘em”.
Duke returns the narrative to a sense of the everyman: “We cover and smother another brother, Throw him away just like a used rubber,” twice referring to the system as at the heart of Black-on-Black crime.
Duke’s “English Rasta” pseudonym is also a comment on Jamaican culture in Britain, in particular the second generation who grew up through an evolving Black British identity.
M.C. Duke and DJ Leader 1’s debut album Organised Rhyme challenges the British class system, the aristocracy, colonialism and imperialism. Duke claims their associated visual tropes and brings them into a rap frame fusing tweed suits, hunting boots, Bentley cars and stately homes with the African medallions and chunky gold jewellery of hip-hop.
In 1990, Duke countered the conventions of the British aristocracy as a producer and performer on the album The Royal Family, a collective of artists from the Music Of Life camp, including the likes of Lady Tame and Doc Savage. This album resonates with US label-related collectives such as Marley Marl’s Juice Crew and The 45 King’s Flavor Unit. Again, this enforces the transatlantic approach to hip-hop that Duke maintained.
Duke’s work ensured British fans felt homegrown rap was becoming closer to US artists like Eric B. & Rakim and Public Enemy. Additionally, his music laid the foundation for future solo British rappers as diverse as Ty, Dizzee Rascal and Stormzy.
As well as being a forerunner in British hip-hop, Duke worked across dance genres and influenced many jungle, drum ‘n’ bass and grime emcees. As Jumpin Jack Frost (the DJ behind the seminal jungle track Burial, which he released under the alias Leviticus) attested: “Duke was a true trailblazer who was one of the first UK MCs with a major record deal … His legacy will be remembered as someone who helped to shape UK MCs from jungle to grime we all owe MC Duke a lot.”
MC Duke bridged the gap between US hip-hop history and set a new British trajectory for rap. His work should serve as a critical signpost for British rap audiences.
Adam de Paor-Evans 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.
