Following some very public protests, including Victoria Cross recipient
Willie Apiata handing back his medal, the government’s announcement of an expanded official definition of the term “veteran” brings some good news for former military personnel ahead of this year’s ANZAC Day.
The change will add roughly 100,000 service people and remove an anomaly that favoured those who served overseas, unless they served in New Zealand before 1974 when the Accident Compensation Corporation was founded. The new definition will not automatically change existing entitlements, but the government has expressed commitment to improving veterans’ support.
The government will also establish a new national day of tribute for veterans. This falls somewhat short of a recommendation from the 2018 independent review of the Veterans’ Support Act which stated the government should accept it has a “moral duty of care to veterans”. But if adopted, this would create a missing ethical compass all democracies should have to acknowledge responsibilities to those who risked everything in service of their country.
None of this is particularly surprising, given New Zealand’s history of sending people to fight and then rejecting their claims for recognition and compensation when the war is over.
Some of this may also come to light in the Waitangi Tribunal’s current Military Veterans Kaupapa Inquiry, with potentially strong evidence of discrimination against Māori service personnel in particular.
Sacrifice and compensation
When New Zealand gave out its first military pensions in 1866, only the victors of the New Zealand Wars received them. For Māori allies, equity was missing. Pro-government Māori troops were eligible, but at a lower rate than Pākehā veterans.
It was only in 1903 that specialist facilities such as the Ranfurly war veterans’ home in Auckland were created.
The initial treatments for those who suffered “shell shock”, especially in the first world war, were atrocious. Their placement in mental institutions only ended following public outcry.
Some veterans of the New Zealand Wars were compensated by being granted confiscated Māori land. It wasn’t until 1915 that a new system was formalised.
This provided farm settlement schemes and vocational training for first world war veterans. The balloted farmland was largely exclusionary as Māori veterans were assumed to have tribal land already available to them.
The rehabilitation of disabled service personnel dates back to the 1930s, before being formally legislated in 1941. But the focus faded over the following decades, with the specific status of veterans blurring as they were lumped in with more generic welfare goals.
It took until 1964 for the government to pay war pensions to those who served in Jayforce, the 12,000-strong New Zealand troops stationed in Japan as part of the postwar occupation from 1946 to 1948.
A decade later, more than 500 New Zealand navy personnel took part in Operation Grapple, the British hydrogen bomb tests near Kiribati in 1957–58. Despite evidence of a variety of health problems – including cancer, premature death and deformities in children – it was not until 1990 that the government extended coverage of benefits to veterans who had contracted some specific listed conditions.
It took another eight years before the government broadened the evidence requirements and accepted service in Operation Grapple as an eligibility starting point for additional emergency pensions.
Last year, the United States declared a National Atomic Veterans’ Day and made potentially significant compensation available. But neither New Zealand nor Britain even apologised for putting those personnel in harm’s way so recklessly.
During the war in Vietnam, some of the 3,400 New Zealanders who served between 1963 and 1975 were exposed to “Agent Orange”, the notorious defoliant used by the US military.
Assistance and compensation was based on evidence of specific listed conditions. And although the list has expanded over time, the legal and medical burden of proving a link between exposure and an illness falls on the veteran.
This is the opposite of what should happen. If there is uncertainty about the medical condition of a veteran, such as a non-listed condition, it should be for the Crown to prove an illness or injury is not related to military service. This burden should not fall on the victim.
Lest we forget
Today, support for veterans remains limited. There is still a reluctance to systematically understand, study and respond to the long-term consequences of military service.
For many, service develops skills such as resilience, confidence and flexibility which are sought after in civilian life. For some, their experiences lead to lingering trauma and even self-harm or suicide.
While Britain and Australia can track the incidence of veteran self-harm, New Zealand lacks robust data. Beyond some early research, the prevalence of suicide in the veteran population is unknown.
Despite recommendations from the 2018 report that this data gap should be plugged, it means that when three self-inflicted deaths of veterans occurred within three weeks earlier this year, this couldn’t be viewed within any overall pattern. This makes appropriate support and interventions harder to design.
This all points to the same problem. While we intone “lest we forget” on April 25, a day later most of us are looking the other way.
Alexander Gillespie 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 – Canada – By Aidan Moir, Assistant Professor, Department of Communication, Media and Film, University of Windsor
From papal selfies to the viral generative AI images featuring a stylish puffer jacket, Pope Francis became a prominent popular culture figure during his papacy.
News media called him the “People’s Pope,” branding that also circulated online on social media to turn Pope Francis into an icon who symbolized the progressive ideals of 2010s popular culture.
His 2013 election was significant for many reasons, including the fact that he became the first Jesuit and first pope from Latin America. His acension to the papacy represented an attempt by the Catholic Church to rebrand itself through Francis’s “progressive” public image.
The Catholic Church as an institutional brand has been at the centre of numerous scandals and controversies after committing grave injustices for generations.
Pope Francis, on the other hand, became what branding expert Douglas Holt calls an “iconic brand.” These are entities that serve as powerful symbols that reflect cultural myths and ideals.
Just like politicians or celebrities, popes also need branding to develop their public identities.
Branding and the papacy
Pontiffs have always been subject to branding, making them unique subjects for public fascination and popular culture. Decisions about what shoes to wear and what papal name to take are in fact acts of branding.
Pope Francis chose his papal name to align himself with Saint Francis of Assisi. He also chose to wear a simple white cassock for his first public appearance on the balcony at St. Peter’s Basilica. These decisions were branding strategies.
Francis’s use of social media brought the papacy into a new digital age. It provided him with a platform to build his brand in a manner similar to politicians.
His embrace of technology made him appear “cool,” leading to a decade of viral social media posts and memes. The first papal selfie, taken in 2013 with teenage pilgrims visiting the Vatican, went viral on Twitter.
Iconic brands cannot act alone to maintain their cultural status. As Holt explains, they depend on “co-authors” to create myths that connect brands with the public. Co-authors are media texts or cultural groups circulating stories that give meaning to iconic brands.
From the outset, news media were an integral part of building the pope’s image. Francis was Time magazine’s 2013 Person of the Year, and graced the cover of Rolling Stone.
He was largely unknown around the globe prior to becoming pope. Media coverage played an important role in presenting his brand to global audiences as news reports suggested Francis’s humility, compassion for the poor and radical approach to the papacy would transform the Catholic Church.
Just days after his election, The Washington Post labelled Francis “the People’s Pope.” This title connected Francis to figures likes Princess Diana, a similar iconic figure known for challenging protocol and her progressive charity work who was dubbed “the People’s Princess.”
After legacy media bolstered his iconic brand as “the People’s Pope,” Pope Francis reinforced this messaging through strategic, selective actions.
Francis became pope during Barack Obama’s presidency in the United States. The two men shared some similarities, including representing different “firsts.”
Francis was aware of his iconic brand as “the People’s Pope.” Like Princess Diana, this branding allowed him to appeal to a global audience, regardless of religious affiliation.
His first official trip was to the Mediterranean island of Lampedusa, holding mass for asylum-seekers and migrants.
His response of “who am I to judge?” to a media question about the Catholic Church’s position on 2SLGTBQ+ issues gained positive media coverage.
In 2015, Francis published his first papal encyclical focused on the connection between climate change and global poverty.
Pope Francis developed an iconic brand that connected with the public during a decade defined by progressive ideals as legacy and social media worked together as co-authors in building his identity.
Iconic brands can transform the institutions they represent. Pope Francis’s image demonstrates how papal branding is no different than other forms of branding. It depends on different dynamics coming together at the right moment to form myths for public connection.
Memes related to the movie Conclave are already going viral on social media. The new pontiff will enter a different cultural landscape than Pope Francis, but the strategies for creating an iconic brand remain the same.
Aidan Moir previously received funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada.
Depending on who you follow on social media, you may have come across talk of a little-known herb called ashwagandha over the past year. Celebrities including Meghan Markle, Gwyneth Paltrow and Jennifer Aniston are reported to use ashwagandha for its calming effects. Ashwagandha has been trending on social media with data showing #ashwagandha had more than 670 million views on TikTok in 2024.
Scientifically known as Withania somnifera, ashwagandha is a common herb used for thousands of years in Ayurvedic medicine – an ancient Indian system of healing based on the belief that health and wellness depend on a balance between the body, mind and spirit. Ayurveda emphasises a holistic approach to health using natural treatments, such as herbal remedies, dietary changes, physical therapy, meditation and yoga.
But beyond the social media buzz, what does science say about this herb’s benefits?
Ashwagandha root has been used in traditional medicine as an adaptogen. This means it could help people become more resilient to various types of stress, whether biological, physical, or chemical.
The strongest evidence available for ashwagandha is as a stress and anxiety reliever. A review looking at several small studies showed that ashwagandha can significantly reduce levels of perceived stress and anxiety in people. This may be partly due to its regulating effect on stress hormones such as cortisol.
Ashwagandha is also known for its ability to improve sleep quality. The “somnifera” part of its scientific name, meaning “sleep-inducing” hints at its effects. Some trials show it can help people fall asleep faster and enjoy deeper, more restful sleep, thus boosting energy levels. This may be beneficial for people suffering from insomnia. But there is no evidence showing whether it is better than taking sleeping tablets.
Possible benefits
Recently, this herb has been associated with other benefits. The Sanskrit word “ashwagandha” means “the smell of a horse,” symbolising its ability to give the strength and stamina of a horse. Athletes and fitness enthusiasts may benefit from ashwagandha’s ability to enhance physical performance. Some research indicates that ashwagandha can improve strength, muscle mass and oxygen use during exercise.
For men, ashwagandha has been shown in some small studies to boost testosterone levels and improve fertility by increasing sperm count and motility. This may be linked to dehydroepiandrosterone (DHEA) – a sex hormone that your body naturally produces. DHEA is used to make other hormones such as testosterone. This means men with prostate cancer sensitive to testosterone should avoid using this herb.
Ashwagandha has been linked to improved cognitive function, such as better memory and focus. Small studies, involving older people who have some cognitive impairment, suggest that ashwagandha may help to reduce oxidative stress – harmful molecules called free radicals that can damage cells in the body – and inflammation, which can negatively effect memory and thinking processes.
There are also ongoing clinical trials investigating whether ashwagandha may be effective in treating long COVID symptoms such as fatigue and cognitive dysfunction – having trouble with mental tasks such as thinking, remembering and making decisions – but there’s no robust evidence yet.
Ashwagandha is rich in phytochemicals, including withanolides. Withanolides are steroidal lactones – they are structurally similar to steroids, with a lactone ring in their chemical structure – that are thought to help cells absorb glucose from the bloodstream. This can lower blood sugar in both healthy people and those with diabetes, although larger studies need to be done. In animal studies, withanolides show anti-inflammatory activity.
Side effects
While ashwagandha may offer potential health benefits, it also has numerous risks and side effects. The long-term safety of ashwagandha is not well-documented. Most studies have focused on short-term use, typically up to three months – but the benefits may take some weeks or months to appear. The most common side effects are mild stomach upsets and nausea.
Its use is not advised in people with some pre-existing health conditions such as liver disease. Although rare, there have been reports of liver problems, including severe liver failure, associated with ashwagandha use. Ashwagandha may stimulate the immune system, potentially causing flare ups for people with autoimmune conditions such as multiple sclerosis and rheumatoid arthritis.
It’s also possible that ashwagandha may interact with some medications, such as immunosuppressants, sedatives and thyroid hormone medications. Research suggests that ashwagandha may influence thyroid function, particularly by increasing thyroid hormone levels. It may also interact with thyroid medications, such as levothyroxine, possibly leading to overmedication.
Pregnant and breastfeeding women are advised to avoid ashwagandha, especially at higher doses. The herb may be linked to miscarriages and, although there’s conflicting evidence, it’s best to be cautious.
Ashwagandha holds promise, then, as a stress reliever, sleep aid and even an energy booster. With growing interest and a large body of anecdotal evidence, it’s no surprise that it’s become a favourite among wellness enthusiasts. However, scientific research is still developing and more extensive clinical trials are needed to confirm the benefits, side effects and determine the safest, most effective doses.
If you’re considering incorporating ashwagandha into your routine, especially for long-term use, do consult a healthcare professional first, especially if you have pre-existing health conditions or are taking other medications.
Dipa Kamdar 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 Andrew Gawthorpe, Lecturer in History and International Studies, Leiden University
Donald Trump has wanted America to annex Greenland for a long time. He now has a concrete plan to do it. As reported by the New York Times, the president’s National Security Council has instructed several government departments to get to work on acquiring the island.
Trump has made it clear that the use of military force remains on the table. But, at least for now, it seems the plan will rely mostly on persuasion.
The first component is a coordinated advertising and social media campaign aimed at convincing Greenlanders that their future lies under the stars and stripes. The administration plans to tell the island’s residents that they will be more prosperous and more secure as part of the US.
Driving that message home will be an uphill struggle. A poll in January 2025 found that 85% of Greenlanders oppose the idea of being annexed by the US. A parliamentary election in March also showed little support for it. The best-performing party was the pro-business Demokraatit, which wants to slow walk changes to Greenland’s international status.
To overcome this resistance, the Trump administration is reportedly planning to appeal to shared ethnic and cultural ties between Inuit Greenlanders, who make up about 88% of the island’s population, and Indigenous peoples in the US state of Alaska. Greenlanders are likely to question that approach for a number of reasons.
These ties are not completely imaginary. Greenland Inuit are descended from the Thule people, who migrated from Alaska around 1,000 years ago. There are similarities between the languages of Alaskan and Greenland Inuit.
But these people have been separated by 2,000 miles for centuries, and in the interim have been shaped by their divergent histories. Though their languages are similar, they are generally not mutually intelligible.
One of the main factors separating Alaskan and Greenland Inuit is their separate colonial histories. Greenland was colonised by Denmark, and Alaska by the US. The details of this colonial history are likely to give Greenlanders pause.
Alaska became a US state in 1959. Before then, it was a territory – a colonial holding similar to Puerto Rico or Guam today. During its time as a territory, the US government and white settlers treated Alaska’s Indigenous people with a mixture of disinterest and malice.
Until discrimination was outlawed by a state law in 1945, Indigenous Alaskans lived in a system of segregation and limited rights similar to the “Jim Crow” policies of the southern US. Indigenous Alaskans, like African Americans in the southern states, were not guaranteed the right to vote, and “whites only” signs were commonplace in businesses.
During the second world war, the US government feared a Japanese attack on the Aleutian islands, which form part of Alaska. As a result, it forcibly evacuated the Indigenous population, burning their villages to prevent invading Japanese troops from using them as housing. Evacuees were forced to live in unsanitary camps on the mainland for years, where more than one in ten died.
The US government justified this as a geopolitical necessity. But given that great power politics is also behind its drive to control Greenland, the island’s residents should question whether their rights will be respected if they conflict with another perceived geopolitical necessity.
Buying favour
Another plank of the Trump administration’s plan is financial. The White House apparently wants to replace the subsidy that Greenland currently receives from Denmark with a payment of US$10,000 (£7,600) per resident. It’s not clear if this money is intended to go directly to the population, or to the island’s central government.
This works out at just over US$568 million (£429 million) a year. If it’s a subsidy for the central government, then it’s slightly less than the island currently receives from Denmark. And if it’s a payment directly to the population, then it’s unclear how public services on the island would be funded.
Here again, a look at the experience of Indigenous Alaskans is instructive. Indigenous Alaskans, who receive various US government services through the Bureau of Indian Affairs, have a much higher poverty rate than the general population, lower rates of health coverage and worse educational outcomes.
They also generally don’t live as long. According to the most recent figures, the life expectancy for Indigenous Alaskans is 70.4 years – much lower than the statewide average of 74.5.
Economic development – or, perhaps more accurately, exploiting Greenland’s natural resources – is also part of Trump’s plan. Trump is apparently interested in Greenland’s “rare earth minerals, copper, gold, uranium and oil”.
Greenland does indeed have vast mineral wealth. But it is unclear if it can be safely accessed in the island’s current inhospitable environment.
Such resource extraction could also easily lead to environmental damage, as it has done in Alaska. In 1989, for example, the Exxon Valdez oil supertanker spilled more than 10 million gallons of crude oil in Alaska’s Prince William Sound.
Meanwhile, without strong regulation and taxation, the wealth generated could easily accrue to corporations rather than Greenlanders.
There is a long history of colonising powers claiming that only they, rather than “the natives”, can deliver prosperity and progress to a country. Trump’s plan, which tries to turn the experience of Indigenous Alaskans into one that Greenlanders should want to emulate, fits squarely into this genre.
But the history of US involvement in Alaska and its treatment of Indigenous Alaskans gives lie to that story. For Greenlanders to trade their sovereignty to the US in return for a guarantee of prosperity and security would be a risky gamble indeed.
Andrew Gawthorpe 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.
Over the last century of glorious, tragic, turbulent and innovative human endeavour, the cover of the New Yorker magazine has used only the illustrated image to communicate talking points of American – and specifically New York City – life and culture.
Beyond the masthead and issue date, no set typography has ever been allowed, maintaining a unique wordless space in magazine publishing where only an image connotes the idea. The absence of copy is arresting, the silent core of what the solely visual can communicate. Though notably, the majority of weekly sales are by subscription, not impulse buys.
There are few of the New Yorker’s 1925 newsstand contemporaries left. Meanwhile, publications like Time, Newsweek and Fortune have not resisted the dominant orthodoxy of photography with multiple cover lines to gain sales.
While photography delivers celebrity and the spectacle of modern life, the New Yorker has maintained a belief in visualising without written explanation to reach those readers who seek something more. But how can a magazine whose survival depends on sales maintain appeal with such apparently humble graphic means?
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The magazine’s strategy for success has been to employ a succession of brilliant art editors (just four in 100 years – somewhat unique in magazine publishing) who understand how illustration, in the right hands, can offer appeal, surprise, entertainment and imaginative freedom to invent what French poster artist Cassandre called “a visual incident”.
Posters and magazine covers have a similar task: both vie to grab the attention of a public subjected to evermore intrusive image assault. From simple street hoardings and news vendors in 1925, to broadcast then digital media today, the changes over the last 100 years have been immense and profound.
This audio-visual bombardment of words, images, sound and movement simply did not exist back then. This golden age of the printed poster and magazine cover appears now to belong another world – so how can preservation of these ideals be viable in a 21st century weekly magazine?
Illustration and its reinvention as an agile alternative to the over-saturation of audio-visual and written media is one key. The choice of illustration as communication remains underrepresented. Other than courtroom reporting, there have been few front pages that have used a drawing, but its popular appeal evidences a relevance to complex modern lives.
As a discipline, illustration is closely related to the cartoon and its sequential form, the comic strip. Many New Yorker cover artists operate across these practices, demonstrating the common ground of drawing.
Illustrations are used for associative value – they conjure up an expressive or reflective mood, provide a seasoned commentary, or capture concisely a cultural moment. In the context of fake news, illustrations don’t purport to be objective – they best work through a coherent convincing visual language that offers more than words.
For the majority of the New Yorker’s audience, illustration has an affectionate, unsophisticated association with successive stages of development, starting in childhood. From early picture books to comics, graphic novels, music and lifestyle, illustrated communication allows interpretation and relatability.
Illustration can be successful in performing the elusive act of being inclusive and appealingly anonymous. The New Yorker recognises that diversity in content is reliant on the real-life experience of its artists. Since the 1930s when most journalists and illustrators were male and white, the magazine has sought to make a weekly visual statement of the contemporary by prioritising images that represent the diversity of New York.
There is a disposable deal in buying a magazine – it is not designed to be a keeper. Certain images of “a moment” can later become the visual signature of an age, though it may not not always be apparent at the time.
The early consistency of New Yorker art deco covers expressed both wonderful visual ideas and a graphic language for modernity. The skyscrapers, bridges and lights of the quintessential modern metropolis are beautifully shown in Adolph Kronengold’s cover from March 1938.
Barry Blitt’s 2008 “politics of fear” cover, showing Barack Obama in Muslim clothing and Michelle Obama in combats with a gun slung over her back, expressed much more than portraits in an American presidential campaign. It provocatively articulated media exaggeration and control, forces that dominate today.
And then there are the images that transcend a stylistic era and which are elevated above beyond specific facts in a way that helps us see the world in a new way, like Saul Steinberg’s “view of the world from 9th Avenue” cover from 1976.
The viewpoint is literally floating above the street, not so high that local details are unrecognisable, yet just beyond the Hudson are diminishing deserts and prairies and over the Pacific ocean you can see Japan.
A wonderful satire on the attitude of global centrality and specifically a New Yorker’s idea of their own importance, the image has been copied and referenced ever since its publication.
The completely black cover by Art Spiegelman and New Yorker art director Françoise Mouly for September 24 2001 achieved the impossible task of visualising the feeling of loss following the world trade centre attacks. Mouly has been the art director since 1993 and possesses a supreme visual intelligence that has driven the success of the pictorial cover for more than three decades.
She maintains that artists are able to say new things about the same themes year after year – something AI cannot do as it refers only to the past. The present, however, is elusive and the province of the artist gathering energy like a lightning conductor. Plus, crucially, AI doesn’t doodle.
New Yorker artists are people who can present a dilemma, an issue, a moment or a spectacle visually, not abstracted, but through emotional empathy. The covers are non-linear but require “reading”. The multiple layers of meaning are often open to interpretion.
The beauty of the New Yorker cover lies in not equating it with a written description, but rather in prompting an emotional response to what it is to be alive in that moment, whether good times or bad. That’s a pretty wonderful objective and guiding principle for a weekly publication.
Geoff Grandfield 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.
What if your work self didn’t know about your personal life, and your home self had no idea what you did for a living? In Apple TV’s Severance, that’s exactly the deal: a surgical procedure splits the memories of employees into “innies” (who only exist at work) and “outies” (who never recall what they do from nine to five).
On the surface, it sounds like an ideal solution to a growing cyber security problem of insider threats, such as leaks or sabotage by employees. After all, if an employee can’t remember what they accessed at work, how can they leak it, sabotage it, or sell it?
As someone who has researched insider threats for the last decade I can’t help but see Severance as a cautionary tale of what happens when we try to eliminate threats without understanding people.
The threat from within
Insider threats really hit prominence in the wake of high-profile incidents like Chelsea Manning and Edward Snowden, who both leaked top secret government information. These threats are one of the most persistent challenges in security because unlike “traditional” hackers, insiders already have access to sensitive systems and information.
They might act maliciously, stealing trade secrets or exposing data, or accidentally, through phishing links or lost devices. Either way, the consequences can be more serious because of the unprecedented levels of access someone has while working within an organisation.
While we often think of the high-profile cases in the first instance, the reality of most insider incidents is far less dramatic. Think of the disgruntled employee who downloads a client database before leaving, or the well-meaning staff member who shares a sensitive file via the wrong link.
In fact, one of the most iconic examples of an insider threat in fiction is Jurassic Park. The entire catastrophe begins, not with a dinosaur, but with a software engineer, Dennis Nedry, who disables the park’s security in an attempt to steal trade secrets. It’s a reminder that even the most sophisticated systems can be undone by a single rogue employee.
Organisations try to manage this through access controls, behaviour monitoring and training. But people are unpredictable. Insider threats sit at the messy intersection of human behaviour, organisational culture and digital systems.
This is where Severance strikes a chord. What if you could eliminate the human risk altogether, by turning employees into separate, tightly compartmentalised selves? In the show, workers at the shadowy Lumon Corporation have no memory of their job outside the office and vice versa.
In a sense, it’s the ultimate form of “need to know.” An “innie” can’t tell anyone what they do because they don’t know anything beyond their desk. It’s a very elegant, although ethically problematic, solution for someone working in security. However, as the series unfolds, it becomes clear that the levels of control on offer through the process of severance come with a terrible cost.
The problem with control
The innies in Severance are trapped in an endless workday, unable to understand the meaning or value of their tasks. They form bonds, question authority and ultimately rebel. Ironically, it is the severed employees, the ones who are most closely controlled in the company, who become the greatest insider threat to Lumon.
This mirrors something we know from real organisations: excessive surveillance, control and secrecy often backfires. For instance, Amazon has faced repeated criticism over its use of tracking technologies to monitor warehouse workers’ movements and productivity, with reports suggesting this has contributed to high stress, burnout and even rule-breaking as workers try to “game” the system.
A 2022 study published in Harvard Business Review found that employees who feel overly monitored are significantly more likely to break rules or engage in counterproductive behaviour – undermining the very goals of workplace surveillance. If people feel undervalued or mistreated, they’re more likely to become disengaged or actively hostile. Security systems that ignore culture and trust are therefore often brittle.
What Severance gets right is that insider threats are emotional and ethical problems as much as technical ones. They stem from how people feel about their role, their autonomy and their identity within a system. This is something that we can’t simply patch within a piece of software.
Lessons from fiction
Thankfully, no company in the real world is proposing surgical memory separation, at least not yet. But in an age of algorithmic management, increasing surveillance, and growing concerns about privacy, Severance resonates. It forces us to ask just how far should we go in the name of security?
The answer isn’t to separate people from their work, but to build systems that are secure and respectful of the people within them; something increasingly backed by research.
That means better design, clearer boundaries and a workplace culture that values openness, not just compliance. For example, implementing clear expectations around work hours and communication norms can help prevent burnout and promote wellbeing.
Encouraging open communication channels, such as anonymous feedback systems, empowers employees to voice concerns without fear, fostering a culture of trust. Additionally, designing physical workspaces that promote collaboration, like open-plan areas and communal lounges, can enhance team cohesion and reflect organisational values.
If we follow the example set by Lumon and try to remove all risk then we lose something far more essential – the humanity at the centre of our systems and organisations. Ultimately, removing that human focus could be the most significant vulnerability of all.
Oli Buckley receives funding from Jason R.C. Nurse receives funding from The Engineering and Physical Sciences Research Council (EPSRC) and Responsible AI UK.
Dogs are sociable, enthusiastic and widely used to comfort people in settings like hospitals, schools and care homes. But an increasingly popular alternative is emerging: therapy cats.
The term is often used loosely in the media and inconsistently within the scientific community. But in its strictest sense, animal-assisted therapy is a structured activity delivered by health professionals with clinical goals.
Most cats involved in this kind of work are part of broader animal-assisted services. For simplicity, we will stick with “therapy cat” throughout this article.
The environments therapy cats are often taken into, such as nursing homes or schools, can be noisy, unpredictable, and filled with unfamiliar people and surroundings. These are precisely the kinds of settings that can unsettle a typical cat.
Cats usually prefer predictability and stable surroundings. Similar to their wildcat ancestors, domestic cats prioritise territorial security over social bonds with people or other cats. C
ats rely on scent to navigate and feel secure in their surroundings. The F3 pheromone helps them mark areas as “safe” or “known”, creating a kind of olfactory map of their home range.
Yet recent social media trends suggest a shift in our understanding. Increasingly, we see cats travelling alongside their owners in a campervan, via plane or even on motorbikes. These cats appear to tolerate, and sometimes even thrive, in environments animal behaviour experts once assumed were too stressful for them. So, what makes these cats different?
Some cats can benefit from the presence of a trusted human in unfamiliar or potentially stressful environments. In a 2021 study, animal behaviour researcher Alexandra Behnke and colleagues found that nearly half of the 42 cats they tested showed signs of the secure base effect, a bond that helps reduce stress and encourages exploration when reunited with their owner. This could be helping therapy cats cope with new environments.
A recent study led by Joni Delanoeije, a Belgian researcher in human-animal interaction, explored how cats selected for animal-assisted services differ from the average household pet. The study analysed survey responses relating to 474 cats – 12 of which had participated in such services. Cats involved in animal-assisted services were found to be more sociable with both people and other cats, were more attention-seeking and less resistant to being restrained.
These findings suggest that behavioural traits, like sociability and tolerance, may make some cats better suited to interacting with people in unfamiliar settings. However, the small number of cats actually involved in service work in this study means that we need more research to draw firm conclusions.
These cats also have strong, trusting bonds with their handlers. Early socialisation and gradual exposure seem to be essential for preparing cats to cope with the unpredictable nature of service work.
However, even with these qualities, cats may still face challenges in therapy environments. In a 2023 global study of cat-assisted services, US psychologists Taylor Griffin and Lori Kogan found that even well-adapted cats may struggle in practice.
The study found that 68% of handlers had ended visits early when they deemed it best for the cat. Handlers in this study also described strong bonds with their cats – a relationship probably key to the cat’s ability to adapt, offering a sense of safety and predictability in a potentially stressful setting.
Cats are different from dogs in their social needs, temperament and tolerance for change. These differences must be carefully considered during selection for therapy work – but with their differences come advantages. For example, therapy cats may provide more benefits to people that see themselves as “cat people”.
Research has shown that this self-classification is linked to personality traits, with cat people often being more independent, creative and self-sufficient. Dog people tend to be more outgoing, sociable and group-oriented. Cat lovers might feel more at ease in one-to-one therapeutic settings, while dog lovers could prefer group-based activities.
Species preferences can also affect emotional responses. In a 2022 study, researcher Jovita Lukšaite and colleagues used facial expression software to analyse participants’ reactions to animal images.
Both cat and dog images triggered similar levels of happiness on average, yet dog images evoked significantly more fear. Fear of dogs could reduce the effectiveness of canine-assisted therapy for some, making cats a valuable alternative.
Dogs may excel at providing emotional support through physical interaction but cat purrs are a unique characteristic that may offer therapeutic benefits. A 2001 study found that domestic cats purr at a frequency between 25 and 50 hertz – a frequency that promotes healing in humans.
While there is a lack of more recent research to support this finding, a 2021 study found that cat owners reported that their cat’s purrs had a calming effect.
So, dogs might be the traditional therapy animal, but cats have shown they too have what it takes. With the right temperament and training, cats can offer something different to those in need of comfort.
Grace Carroll 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.
Unidentified people attacked a community in Plateau State, Nigeria’s north central region, in mid-April, killing at least 52 residents. A similar attack in the same state claimed 48 lives earlier in the month.
In neighbouring Benue State, north central Nigeria, unnamed assailants attacked two communities in March, killing at least five people. Nigeria’s President Bola Tinubu described the Plateau violence as rooted in misunderstandings between different ethnic and religious groups.
Nigeria’s spiralling insecurity is sometimes blamed on armed herders, at other times on bandits or kidnappers. Then there are extremist groups like Boko Haram, Islamic State West Africa Province and Lakurawa, operating mostly in northern Nigeria. In the southern part of the country, there are also armed groups like the Indigenous People of Biafra.
At The Conversation Africa, we have been working with academic experts to gain insights into the various actors involved in Nigeria’s security challenge, their motivations and why efforts to rein them in haven’t succeeded. Here are six essential reads on Nigeria’s struggle with insecurity.
The drivers
At the centre of the most recent killings in Nigeria is the country’s north central region. Consisting of the capital city, Abuja, and six other states, the region is home to several minority ethnic groups. More than 200 languages are spoken there.
As Oluwole Ojewale explains, the region is vulnerable to various forms of conflict. It arises between ethnic and religious groups; people who trace their ancestry to a state and more recent residents; people who keep cattle and those who farm crops.
Across the north central and north west regions of Nigeria, bandits stoke violence and insecurity.
They act in groups with varying operational and technical capabilities and do not have any central authority. Their main activities are cattle rustling, kidnapping civilians for ransom, armed attacks and community invasion. Over the years, the government has tried numerous military and non-military strategies to stamp out bandits. Sallek Yaks Musa unpacks why at least five different strategies have failed.
In 2024, the Nigerian army spoke of attacks on the Niger-Nigeria border as being carried out by a new terrorist group. According to the military, the new group, identified as Lakurawa, is affiliated to terrorists in the Sahel, particularly from Mali and Niger Republic.
The picture painted by the military suggests that the group emerged as a result of the turmoil following recent coups in the Sahel region. But John Sunday Ojo and Ezenwa E. Olumba argue that the group isn’t new. It’s been operating along the Nigeria-Niger border since 1999, an indication of the region’s growing ungoverned spaces.
Until recent years, large bandit and terror attacks were relatively rare in Lagos and other parts of the south-west region of Nigeria. Lately, crimes that were previously associated with the northern region appear to be spreading to the south-west. Adewumi Badiora outlines why Lagos may be a target and what to do about it.
In the midst of its struggle with insecurity, Nigeria was hit by the United States decision to cut international aid funding. Over the years, the US has granted hundreds of millions of dollars as security assistance to Nigeria, as part of a broader partnership to promote regional security and stability.
Security scholar Al Chukwuma Okoli describes how the cuts will affect Nigeria in many ways, including the fight against terror groups.
Canada’s major political parties have been pledging support for the manufacturingsector ahead of next week’s election, but Canada’s working class is much broader than just manufacturing.
Canadians are on edge because as many as 600,000 jobs are at stake due to tariffs levied by United States President Donald Trump.
But the focus on manufacturing obscures what truly ails the working class in an advanced economy like Canada’s. Manufacturing’s share of employment hovers at around 8.9 per cent, while nearly 80 per cent of Canadians work in the service sector.
A recent report from the non-partisan Cardus think tank notes that Canada’s working class today is “likely to be a female, recently immigrated worker in the services-producing sector. The new working class, in other words, is now more personified by a Walmart cashier or an Amazon delivery driver than a General Motors factory worker or a Domtar mill hand.”
It’s easy to understand. Manufacturing has been essential to industrialization, from the British Empire to China’s unprecedented growth in recent years.
The late British-Hungarian economist Nicholas Kaldor argued that manufacturing is the engine of growth due to increasing returns to scale, strong links to other sectors and its role in technological development.
Labour-intensive sectors like clothing cannot compete with Bangladeshi wages, but discussions about manufacturing jobs in Canada and other advanced economies too often focus on wage competition instead of job losses through automation and increasing productivity.
There were losers when the globalization era began, but countries like Canada and the U.S. are wealthier today than they were in 1994, when the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) was signed. As American economist Jeffrey Sachs has pointed out, governments have failed to redistribute the wealth created by gains from trade to those at the bottom of the income scale.
With Canada on track to experience a surge of its elderly population, long-term care also needs to be a focus. Personal support workers must earn a living wage and must have better working conditions. Canada’s aging population is also why decreased immigration is a bad idea.
These policies are generally not implemented in liberal market economies like Canada and the U.S.
But in countries like Sweden with active labour market policies in place, 80 per cent of the population has a favourable opinion of robots and AI compared to two-thirds of Americans who are concerned about technological job loss. The state’s ability — or lack of it — to provide social protections and job re-training has real impacts on how people perceive technological change.
Canada also needs to recognize foreign credentials. Its reluctance to do so has had a negative impact on the economic prospects of immigrants. Canada should also consider making higher education free.
Apart from the public sector, Canadian unions have not fared well organizing in service industries. Unions need to make a serious effort to organize in retail, food service, the gig economy and logistics, despite the challenges. Canadian unions may find that they have little choice but to do so, as their presence in the private sector continues to decline.
The most significant barrier of these four policy proposals is that most require an increased redistribution of wealth. Canada over the past several decades has retreated from wealth redistribution and as a result, economic inequality has surged.
These policies are not easy to achieve, but there are few other options for Canada if it wants to be carbon-free, open to the world and more equal. Canada’s economic nostalgia for manufacturing is ultimately strange given it’s also a common talking point of Trump, a politician who’s wildly unpopular in Canada.
Gerard Di Trolio 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.
Although the brain is our most complex organ, the ways to treat it have historically been rather simple. Typically, surgeons lesioned (damaged) a structure or a pathway in the hope that this would “correct the imbalance” that led to the disease. Candidate structures for lesioning were usually found by trial and error, serendipity or experiments in animals.
While performing one such surgery in 1987, French neurosurgeon Alim-Louis Benabid noticed that the electrical stimulation he performed to locate the right spot to lesion had effects similar to the lesion itself. This discovery led to a new treatment: deep brain stimulation. It involved a pacemaker delivering electrical pulses via electrodes implanted in specific spots in the brain.
This treatment has been used to treat advanced Parkinson’s since the early 2000s. However, until today, the stimulator settings had to remain constant once they were set by a specialised doctor or nurse and could only be changed when the patient was next seen in the clinic.
Accordingly, most researchers and doctors thought of stimulation as merely an adjustable and reversible way of lesioning. But these days the field is undergoing a revolution that challenges this view.
Dr Alim Louis Benabid’s discovery led to deep brain stimulation. Wikimedia Commons, CC BY
Adaptive deep brain stimulation was approved earlier this year by the US and European health authorities. It involves a computer interpreting brain activity and deciding whether to adjust the stimulation amplitude up or down to achieve the best relief of a patient’s symptoms.
Parkinson’s is a complex disorder with fluctuating symptoms that are greatly affected by the drugs a patient takes several times a day. While for some patients constant stimulation does a good job controlling their symptoms, for others it is too strong some of the time and overly weak at other times.
Ideally, the treatment should only kick in when it is most helpful.
The discovery that made adaptive stimulation possible was made by scientists at University College London over two decades ago, around the time when the first patients with Parkinson’s started getting electrodes implanted in the UK National Hospital for Neurology and Neurosurgery.
When recording deep brain activity from these electrodes shortly after the surgery, the scientists noticed that a particular kind of brain wave appeared when a patient stopped their medication and their symptoms worsened.
The waves went away when the patients took their medication and started feeling better. It took a decade of further research before the same team of scientists first attempted to use the brain waves to control stimulation.
The idea is akin to a thermostat controlling an air conditioner. When the waves (temperature) reach a certain threshold, an electronic control circuit turns the stimulator (airconditioner) on. This reduces the waves and when they go away the stimulation can be turned off for a while until the waves re-emerge.
The original setup was bulky and could only be used in the hospital, and it took another decade to make it fit inside a device smaller than a matchbox that could be implanted in a patient’s chest.
New challenges
While the option to make brain stimulation adaptive gives new tools to doctors and nurses to fit stimulation to a patient in the best possible way, it comes with new challenges.
Even with the original fixed settings, there are many parameters doctors have to set to ensure effective treatment with minimal side-effects. Making stimulation adaptive adds another layer of complexity and puts extra demand on a clinical team’s time and attention.
In the case of Parkinson’s, stimulation effects are almost immediate so it is relatively easy to see how well particular constant settings work. But an adaptive setting must be tested over at least a few days to see how well it copes with the patient’s daily routine and medication cycles.
Adaptive stimulators also come with sensing abilities. They can record the harmful brain wave levels over days and weeks so that the clinical team can review them and see how well they are controlled.
These possibilities are new in the treatment of Parkinson’s, although similar implanted devices have been in use for years by cardiologists and epileptologists (neurologists who specialise in epilepsy).
Studying brain waves recorded by the smart stimulators in Parkinson’s patients opens new doors for understanding other diseases. Many patients suffer from problems such as depression and cognitive decline. Researchers could search for features in their brain signals that track the severity of these symptoms using AI tools to find relations too subtle or too complex for a human observer.
A parallel branch of deep brain stimulation research is focused on precisely mapping out the brain circuits responsible for different neurological and psychiatric symptoms. Several recent studies reported successes in treating depression, OCD and severe headaches.
Stimulating in the right place at the right time considering what the patient is doing is where the field is heading. With the basic technology now in place, progress could be rapid.
Vladimir Litvak previously collaborated with Medtronic plc on a research project.
In a year filled with centenaries of famous novels, including Virginia Woolf’s Mrs Dalloway, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby and Franz Kafka’s The Trial, another novel also quietly turns 100. William was published in 1925 by the once-celebrated, now largely forgotten, E.H. Young.
William was Young’s most successful novel. It sold more than 68,000 copies and was reprinted 20 times before 1948. It was William which established Young’s reputation as a great writer.
It follows the life of William and Kate Nesbitt and their grown-up children, tracing their trials and tribulations as modern life butts up against traditional values. One of the daughters, Lydia, leaves her husband to live with a novelist. William, a shipowner and the family’s steady centre, supports her. Kate, steeped in traditional respectability, cannot.
Two issues lie at the heart of the novel: the role of women and domestic life. Through Kate and William’s relationship, Young breaks new ground as a writer. She explores a later stage of life, when children have grown up. The husband and wife spend time alone and find themselves at odds.
This kind of astute characterisation exemplifies Young’s writing. As with many of Young’s novels, romantic love plays a very small part. The narrative emphasis falls, instead, on other types of relationships.
Women are seen to bear the main burdens of marriage and family life. Again and again, her characters rail against the smallness of middle-class female life and its social conventions.
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Place and psyche
The novel’s central tension plays out not only in the family, but also in the city they inhabit. William spans the docks and suburbs of fictional Radstowe, a thinly disguised Bristol.
As in Mrs Dalloway, place and psyche are deeply connected. Young uses the physical and social geography of Bristol to examine how women move through a world of unspoken rules.
Young lived in Bristol for 15 years. Most of her novels are set there – or rather in “Upper Radstowe”, her fictional version of real life suburban Clifton. She turned the city’s bridges, rivers and steep class divides into metaphors for the pressures placed on women navigating early 20th-century life.
In William, her characters feel real because they are flawed. The conflict between Lydia’s modern values and Kate’s traditional ones doesn’t resolve cleanly. Young isn’t interested in moralising. Instead, she observes. Her sharp wit, psychological acuity and feel for the rhythms of domestic life make William both an engrossing family novel and a quietly radical one.
Modern day Clifton in Bristol. It became Upper Radstowe in E.H. Young’s novels. Sion Hannuna/Shutterstock
Who was the woman behind Radstowe?
Emily Hilda Young was born in 1880 and died in 1949. She wrote 11 novels and was widely read in her day. Four of her novels were made into BBC radio dramas. Her 1930 novel Miss Mole was televised by the BBC in 1980.
Like many of her characters, Young led an unconventional life. During the first world war she worked as a stable hand and in a munitions factory. Her husband, a solicitor named Arthur Daniell, went off to fight. After Daniell was killed at Ypres in 1917, Young moved to London and got a job in a school where her married lover, Ralph Henderson, was the headmaster.
She was also a keen mountaineer in an era when there were few women climbers. She even pioneered and led others along a route, now known as Hope, in the Carneddau mountains in Eryri (Snowdonia) in 1915.
This quiet radicalism filters into her fiction. Her characters are often sharp-tongued, independent and disillusioned by the roles they’ve been expected to play.
It’s hard to place Young in a neat category, however. Her novels can hardly be described as romances. Love is often portrayed as destructive or imprisoning. Young was a feminist and campaigned for votes for women, but she saw human failings in both men and women. She admired strength of character in spite of gender.
If anything, she’s a 20th-century Jane Austen. Her narratives are witty portrayals of social and family life with psychological depth. In Young, though, there’s a mixture of openness and coldness, and a sarcastic sense of humour which emerges spontaneously. At times, it catches you off guard.
Like the best realist writers, Young’s world and its characters are richly drawn. And yet unlike Thomas Hardy or Leo Tolstoy, for instance, Young isn’t interested in tragedy or melodrama. Small troubles are overcome and people make up, even if it doesn’t result in a traditional happy ending.
Young’s legacy has faded, perhaps because her novels sit between genres: not quite realist, not quite modernist, not quite romantic. But as literary anniversaries prompt readers to revisit old favourites, there’s room to bring back overlooked voices.
For readers interested in the inner lives of women, in family dynamics, in novels where place and psychology are intertwined, E.H. Young is worth discovering. This year, rather than returning to the worlds of Clarissa Dalloway and Jay Gatsby, you could instead take a detour to Upper Radstowe, where quiet, deeply human dramas still unfold.
Rebecca Hutcheon 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 world is facing a “silver tsunami” – an unprecedented ageing of the global workforce. By 2030, more than half of the labour force in many EU countries will be aged 50 or above. Similar trends are emerging across Australia, the US and other developed and developing economies.
Far from being a burden or representing a crisis, the ageing workforce is a valuable resource – offering a so-called “silver dividend”. Older workers often offer experience, stability and institutional memory. Yet, in the rush to embrace artificial intelligence (AI), older workers can be left behind.
One common misconception is that older people are reluctant to adopt technology or cannot catch up. But this is far from the truth. It oversimplifies the complexity of their abilities, participation and interests in the digital environments.
There are much deeper issues and structural barriers at play. These include access and opportunity – including a lack of targeted training. Right now, AI training tends to be targeted at early or mid-career workers.
There are also confidence gaps among older people stemming from workplace cultures that can feel exclusionary. Data shows that older professionals are more hesitant to use AI – possibly due to fast-paced work environments that reward speed over judgment or experience.
There can also be issues with the design of tech systems. They are built primarily by and for younger users. Voice assistants often fail to recognise older voices, and fintech apps assume users are comfortable linking multiple accounts or navigating complex menus. This can alienate workers with legitimate security concerns or cognitive challenges.
And all these issues are exacerbated by socio-demographic factors. Older people living alone or in rural areas, with lower education levels or who are employed in manual labour, are significantly less likely to use AI.
Workers employed in manual professions can face bigger barriers when it comes to gaining AI skills. Andrey_Popov/Shutterstock
Ageism has long shaped hiring, promotion and career development. Although age has become a protected characteristic in UK law, ageist norms and practices persist in many not-so-subtle forms.
Ageism can affect both young and old, but when it comes to technology, the impact is overwhelmingly skewed against older people.
So-called algorithmic ageism in AI systems – exclusion based on automation rather than human decision-making – often exacerbates ageist biases.
Hiring algorithms often end up favouring younger employees. And digital interfaces that assume tech fluency are another example of exclusionary designs. Graduation dates, employment gaps, and even the language used in CVs can become proxies for age and filter out experienced candidates without any human review.
Tech industry workers are overwhelmingly young. Homogenous thinking breeds blind spots, so products work brilliantly for younger people. But they can end up alienating other age groups.
This creates an artificial “grey digital divide”, shaped less by ability and more by gaps in support, training and inclusion. If older workers are not integrated into the AI revolution, there is a risk of creating a divided workforce. One part will be confident with tech, data-driven and AI-enabled, while the other will remain isolated, underutilised and potentially displaced.
An ‘age-neutral’ approach
It’s vital to move beyond the idea of being “age-inclusive”, which frames older people as “others” who need special adjustments. Instead, the goal should be age-neutral designs.
AI designers should recognise that while age is relevant in specific contexts – such as restricted content like pornography – it should not be used as a proxy in training data, where it can lead to bias in the algorithm. In this way, design would be age-neutral rather than ageless.
Designers should also ensure that platforms are accessible for users of all ages.
The stakes are high. It is also not just about economics, but fairness, sustainability and wellbeing.
At the policy level in the UK, there is still a huge void. Last year, House of Commons research highlighted that workforce strategies rarely distinguish the specific digital and technological training needs of older workers. This underscores how ageing people are treated as an afterthought.
A few forward-thinking companies have backed mid- and late-career training programmes. In Singapore, the government’s Skillsfuture programme has adopted a more agile, age-flexible approach. However, these are still isolated examples.
Retraining cannot be generic. Beyond basic digital literacy courses, older people need targeted, job-specific advanced training. The psychological framing of retraining is also critical. Older people need to retrain or reskill not for just career or personal growth but also to be able to participate more fully in the workforce.
It’s also key for reducing pressure on social welfare systems and mitigating skill shortages. What’s more, involving older workers in this way supports the transfer of knowledge between generations, which should benefit everyone in the economy.
Yet, currently, the onus is on the older workers and not organisations and governments.
AI, particularly the generative models that can create text, images and other media, is known for producing outputs that appear plausible but are sometimes incorrect or misleading. The people best placed to identify these errors are those with deep domain knowledge – something that is built over decades of experience.
This is not a counterargument to digital transformation or adoption of AI. Rather, it highlights that integrating older people into digital designs, training and access should be a strategic imperative. AI cannot replace human judgment yet – it should be designed to augment it.
If companies, policies and societies exclude older workers from AI transformation processes, they are essentially removing the critical layer of human oversight that keeps AI outputs reliable, ethical and safe to use. An age-neutral approach will be key to addressing this.
Piecemeal efforts and slow responses could cause the irreversible loss of a generation of experience, talent and expertise. What workers and businesses need now are systems, policies and tools that are, from the outset, usable and accessible for people of all ages.
Sajia Ferdous 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.
Overlooking Peel Bay on the Isle of Man. Clint Hudson
The production and use of toxic synthetic chemicals called polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs) were banned internationally more than 40 years ago. There is a great deal of evidence that they are carcinogens and hormone disrupters in mammals and can cause birth defects.
PCBs can build up in the tissues in increasing amounts over time (bioaccumulate) in long-lived animals and people exposed to them. They also biomagnify in the environment meaning they build up in food chains – smaller animals take them into their tissues, those are then eaten by larger animals (such as fish), which themselves are eaten by humans and marine mammals such as dolphins and seals living in Britain’s waters.
Despite these risks, the Isle of Man government – by its own admission – has been dumping toxic silt containing PCBs into the waters of Peel Bay and unlined landfills over the past decade. This is despite the fact these waters have been declared a Unesco biosphere.
Here, Patrick Byrne, Professor of Water Science at Liverpool John Moores University, questions freshwater scientist Calum MacNeil about why he thinks it is so important that the world, and particularly Unesco, takes notice about what’s being dumped into the sea around the Isle of Man.
When did you live on the Isle of Man and what was your exact role?
I lived on the Isle of Man for nearly 15 years (2004 – 2019) and left at the end of 2019.
From 2004 – 2007, I was the Isle of Man government’s freshwater biologist. From 2007 – 2017, I was the freshwater biologist and enforcement officer, responsible for regulation and enforcement of environmental matters related to controlled waters (all inland waters and coastal waters).
Where is the Isle of Man and what is the Unesco status it has earned?
The Isle of Man is a small island in the middle of the Irish Sea, located almost an equal distance from England, Northern Ireland and Scotland. It is British but not part of the UK: it is a self-governing dependency of the British Crown with its own government and laws. It is not part of the EU but is signed up to various international agreements on the environment.
Unesco is the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation. It began the biosphere programme in 1991, concentrating on the care of land, sea and species, as well as culture, heritage, community and economy.
According to the island government’s own fact sheet, biospheres have three functions: promoting sustainable development, conservation and learning. The sea makes up 87% of the Isle of Man Unesco biosphere.
Despite earning this status, evidence in the public domain shows that pollutants have been dumped into the sea. What’s been going on?
The Isle of Man government has been accused of deliberately dumping 4,000 tonnes of toxic silt from harbour dredging, which included synthetic industrial chemicals known as PCBs and heavy metals, in the Irish sea in 2014.
Despite extensive evidence in the public domain, this dumping was not mentioned once in the biosphere nomination documents, dated 2015. The nation’s biosphere website says the nomination process was “several years” in the making and the Unesco biosphere designation occurred in 2016 – only a relatively short time after the deliberate dumping in the Irish Sea.
The government has also allegedly discharged toxic PCB-contaminated effluent – known as called leachate – from an old landfill, called the Raggatt, directly into Peel Bay, an area which has one of the most popular public beaches on the island. Peel is one of three beaches (technically designated as non-bathing areas) on the island that recently failed to meet minimum standards for bathing waters.
I wasn’t aware of the details of the sea dumping of toxic silt until June 2022 when the employment tribunal findings related to the Department of Environment, Food and Agriculture’s (Defa) ex-marine monitoring officer Kevin Kenningtonbecame public. This tribunal heard evidence that this was going on before, during and after the Unesco biosphere designation.
The Isle of Man is a signatory to the Oslo-Paris convention for the protection of the marine environment for the north-east Atlantic (Ospar). The convention specifies a maximum level of marine contaminants.
A decade on from its initial application, the Isle of Man is currently bidding to renew its Unesco Biosphere status in 2026.
The Insights section is committed to high-quality longform journalism. Our editors work with academics from many different backgrounds who are tackling a wide range of societal and scientific challenges.
There does appear to be a lack of monitoring, at least in the public domain. Given the serious nature of the contaminants, I would expect the environmental regulator to monitor any PCBs detected in the environment and fully inform the public of any exposure risk.
The disposal of thousands of tonnes of contaminated silt into biodiverse waters could have had a serious negative impact on that bid. So, how did you discover that all was not as it seemed with the marine biosphere status?
Shortly after resigning from my post in 2017, I read an article in the local media about how the attorney general of the Isle of Man (the government’s senior legal advisor) believed it might be in the public interest to hold a full investigation into the discharging of potentially toxic material retrieved from an old landfill site that was being transported by tankers and taken to the sea. There were a number of statements made in that article that I found very concerning, such as the two below:
The then Environment Minister Richard Ronan told the House of Keys [the parliament of the Isle of Man] in July last year that levels of a range of metals, ammonia, polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons (PAHs) and 225 polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs) identified in the leachate exceed environmental quality standards, making it unsuitable for direct discharge into the River Neb.
The government said the leachate is subject to a large degree of dilution [as] it enters the sea. Samples are analysed regularly and the leachate “does not pose a risk to people swimming in Peel bay”.
To be clear, I knew at the time of reading this article in 2017 that there was no UK or EU environmental quality standard to legally allow a deliberate discharge of PCBs into either freshwaters (rivers and lakes) or to the sea. I knew this because PCBs are massively hydrophobic (water-hating) – meaning you shouldn’t have them suspended in effluent anyway because all they want to do is settle out at the bottom of whatever they are suspended in as soon as possible.
So, if you can detect them suspended in actual effluent you should be very worried about how much is built up or buried in the sediment accompanying that effluent. I knew the deliberate discharge of this was internationally banned and that it shouldn’t be going on into rivers or the sea.
I was even more alarmed when the article quoted a government spokesperson saying the leachate “does not pose a risk to people swimming in Peel Bay”. The government needs to prove that statement legally and scientifically because in the US and Europe there is a “risk averse” approach to PCB release.
This story and the government’s response was very concerning to me as an internationally banned carcinogen was being discharged deliberately to Peel bay, a popular public beach area, while the public were being told it was fine, legal and safe. I didn’t see how this could possibly be legal as regards international agreements.
A few months later, I was concerned about further silt dredging at Peel bay and was curious how Defa as a regulator would deal with avoiding the risk of resuspending previously buried PCBs.
Ospar gives guidance on this, as this is important as PCBs remain toxic for decades and dredging could obviously further increase the risk to the public and environment – resuspending any PCBs that had been previously buried under layers of sediment for decades would result in releasing another source of PCBs into the bay.
Was anyone concerned about possible pollution at the time of the Unesco application?
The Isle of Man government says it spent a great deal of time on the nomination process and the publicly available nomination documents are long and detailed and Defa was heavily involved in the application process and the details provided so they would have to answer that.
I don’t know if any other scientists were raising a red flag at the time, but I do refer you to Kevin Kennington’s tribunal findings which involved dumping toxic silt at sea and Defa officers were aware of this dumping in 2014. None of this was mentioned in the nomination document as far as I have been able to ascertain.
The tribunal found the toxic silt exceeded Ospar guidelines.
When The Conversation put that to Isle of Man government, it did not accept it was in contravention of the rules. But a spokesperson for the UK regulator, Defra told us: “Defra’s internal analysis concluded that the incident constituted actions that were not in accordance with the Ospar convention (Articles 4, and Annex II Art 4) and the 1996 London protocol on the prevention of marine pollution by dumping of wastes and other matter.”
What laws are involved here?
The 252-page-long nomination forms refer to the Water Pollution Act 1993. This is an act that makes “new provision for the protection of inland and coastal waters from pollution, to control deposits in the sea and for connected purposes”.
Some EU legislation is also applied to the Isle of Man, such as Ospar (the convention for protection of the marine environment of the north-east Atlantic) and the Basel convention which governs how nations, including the Isle of Man, should treat and dispose of hazardous waste, including PCBs, in an environmentally sound way.
What are the most worrying impacts of the pollution here?
In my view, the deliberate tanker discharge of PCBs to Peel bay is extremely worrying from both an environmental and public health risk perspective, as is the dredging up of PCB contaminated silt in Peel harbour.
I’m alarmed by the fact that the Isle of Man government decided that it was not in the public interest to pursue the case for the discharge into the sea, given that international agreements were broken.
What needs to change in terms of governance and law enforcement?
I feel there needs to be international scientific and legal scrutiny of all of this. I believe both Unesco and the UK government’s Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (Defra) have a responsibility here as well given the international agreements involved and the biosphere designation. Given the biosphere status surely the Isle of Man government should be acting not just to the letter of the law but the spirit of the law.
What should a biosphere reserve really look like and what needs to change?
Ideally, the government in the world’s only all-nation Unesco biosphere would fully abide by its own principlesand pledges and adhere to international agreements.
For instance, the Isle of Man government set its own environmental quality standards (EQS) for PCBs – now, those won’t be breached by the levels of existing discharges. EQS values for soil, sediment, freshwater and marine environments are derived from years of research showing the maximum concentrations (or quality standards) that cannot be exceeded in order to protect human and environmental health.
As far as I’m aware, there is still no EQS for PCBs in effluent agreed to by the EU. There are PCB guidelines for sediment and biota (animals and plants) at the end of pipelines but these are more concerned with monitoring legacy historic sources of PCBs. I don’t know legally how the Isle of Man was able to do this despite international laws.
The Isle of Man government should be taking a far more precautionary approach to PCBs and potential public exposure, environmental damage and public health risk. They should be doing this anyway, but in the world’s only entire nation Unesco biosphere, I think the moral and legal onus is on them to prove what they are doing is safe. If they are saying it is safe, they obviously need to prove it. I think the onus is also on Unesco to check what is going on in their only all-nation biosphere, especially in the “care” areas of that biosphere.
Calum MacNeil raises some important questions about the very nature of Unesco biosphere status and about the safety of the waters in and around the Isle of Man. The public has a right to clear answers and information. Here are some of the key issues from my perspective as a water scientist.
Long-term health effects
The point about PCB sorption to sediments is a good one. An important study from 2019 estimated that 75% of all PCBs manufactured since 1930 now reside in marine sediment. Marine sediment is literally the waste bin for PCBs. Dilution in rivers is commonly used as a convenient way of masking the mass transport of chemicals through rivers and ultimately to the oceans. So, yes, dilution decreases concentrations locally, but it does not reduce the volume of chemicals transported to or disposed of at sea.
The PCB discharge to Peel bay has been going on since the 1990s which is worrying given possible long-term public health risks and environmental impacts.
Some of the metabolites may leave your body in a few days, but others may remain in your body fat for months. Unchanged PCBs may also remain in your body and be stored for years mainly in the fat and liver, but smaller amounts can be found in other organs as well. Once in our bodies, they can have toxic long-term health effects. Some are associated with fertility issues and they are classed as probable human carcinogens.
Persistence in the environment
Since the 1970’s, the gradual phasing out and banning of PCBs has led to dramatic reductions in their release into the environment. However, despite this, PCBs remain one of the biggest chemical threats to humans and wildlife worldwide. Why is this? Well, we know PCBs are very persistent in the environment, which means they last for decades to hundreds of years. Because of this persistence, they accumulate in living things and we know that at certain concentrations they can be very harmful to us.
It is also because of the widely held belief that “dilution is the solution to pollution”. Sure, dilution of effluent in a river reduces concentrations locally and might allow a government or an industry to meet an environmental quality guideline.
But where have the pollutants gone? They have not disappeared – remember PCBs may persist for hundreds of years. They have gone out to sea where they accumulate in sediments and living things. And we see the evidence and impacts of this all around us. For example, PCBs and other harmful chemicals are routinely detected in apex predators like orcas and whales and polar bears and we know this is negatively impacting their physiology and reproductive health.
PCBs have been detected in the Arctic and Antarctica and even in the Mariana trench in the deep ocean. This is the cumulative result of decades of PCB discharge into the seas from all around the world. We cannot do anything about PCBs that are already in the sea, but with everything we now know about how harmful and long-lasting these chemicals are, we really cannot knowingly continue discharging them into the sea.
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Patrick Byrne receives funding from the UK Natural Environment Research Council.
Many bakers working at high altitudes have carefully followed a standard recipe only to reach into the oven to find a sunken cake, flat cookies or dry muffins.
Experienced mountain bakers know they need a few tricks to achieve the same results as their fellow artisans working at sea level.
These tricks are more than family lore, however. They originated in the early 20th century thanks to research on high-altitude baking done by Inga Allison, then a professor at Colorado State University. It was Allison’s scientific prowess and experimentation that brought us the possibility of perfect high-altitude brownies and other baked goods.
We are two current academics at CSU whose work has been touched by Allison’s legacy.
One of us – Caitlin Clark – still relies on Allison’s lessons a century later in her work as a food scientist in Colorado. The other – Tobi Jacobi – is a scholar of women’s rhetoric and community writing, and an enthusiastic home baker in the Rocky Mountains, who learned about Allison while conducting archival research on women’s work and leadership at CSU.
Inga Allison is one of the fascinating and accomplished women who is part of the exhibit.
Allison was born in 1876 in Illinois and attended the University of Chicago, where she completed the prestigious “science course” work that heavily influenced her career trajectory. Her studies and research also set the stage for her belief that women’s education was more than preparation for domestic life.
In 1908, Allison was hired as a faculty member in home economics at Colorado Agricultural College, which is now CSU. She joined a group of faculty who were beginning to study the effects of altitude on baking and crop growth. The department was located inside Guggenheim Hall, a building that was constructed for home economics education but lacked lab equipment or serious research materials.
Allison took both the land grant mission of the university with its focus on teaching, research and extension and her particular charge to prepare women for the future seriously. She urged her students to move beyond simple conceptions of home economics as mere preparation for domestic life. She wanted them to engage with the physical, biological and social sciences to understand the larger context for home economics work.
Such thinking, according to CSU historian James E. Hansen, pushed women college students in the early 20th century to expand the reach of home economics to include “extension and welfare work, dietetics, institutional management, laboratory research work, child development and teaching.”
News articles from the early 1900s track Allison giving lectures like “The Economic Side of Natural Living” to the Colorado Health Club and talks on domestic science to ladies clubs and at schools across Colorado. One of her talks in 1910 focused on the art of dishwashing.
Allison became the home economics department chair in 1910 and eventually dean. In this leadership role, she urged then-CSU President Charles Lory to fund lab materials for the home economics department. It took 19 years for this dream to come to fruition.
In the meantime, Allison collaborated with Lory, who gave her access to lab equipment in the physics department. She pieced together equipment to conduct research on the relationship between cooking foods in water and atmospheric pressure, but systematic control of heat, temperature and pressure was difficult to achieve.
She sought other ways to conduct high-altitude experiments and traveled across Colorado where she worked with students to test baking recipes in varied conditions, including at 11,797 feet in a shelter house on Fall River Road near Estes Park.
But Allison realized that recipes baked at 5,000 feet in Fort Collins and Denver simply didn’t work in higher altitudes. Little advancement in baking methods occurred until 1927, when the first altitude baking lab in the nation was constructed at CSU thanks to Allison’s research. The results were tangible — and tasty — as public dissemination of altitude-specific baking practices began.
As a senior food scientist in a mountain state, one of us – Caitlin Clark – advises bakers on how to adjust their recipes to compensate for altitude. Thanks to Allison’s research, bakers at high altitude today can anticipate how the lower air pressure will affect their recipes and compensate by making small adjustments.
Air pressure is a force that pushes back on all of the molecules in a system and prevents them from venturing off into the environment. Heat plays the opposite role – it adds energy and pushes molecules to escape.
When water is boiled, molecules escape by turning into steam. The less air pressure is pushing back, the less energy is required to make this happen. That’s why water boils at lower temperatures at higher altitudes – around 200 degrees Fahrenheit in Denver compared with 212 F at sea level.
So, when baking is done at high altitude, steam is produced at a lower temperature and earlier in the baking time. Carbon dioxide produced by leavening agents also expands more rapidly in the thinner air. This causes high-altitude baked goods to rise too early, before their structure has fully set, leading to collapsed cakes and flat muffins. Finally, the rapid evaporation of water leads to over-concentration of sugars and fats in the recipe, which can cause pastries to have a gummy, undesirable texture.
Allison was one of many groundbreaking women in the early 20th century who actively supported higher education for women and advanced research in science, politics, humanities and education in Colorado.
Others included Grace Espy-Patton, a professor of English and sociology at CSU from 1885 to 1896 who founded an early feminist journal and was the first woman to register to vote in Fort Collins. Miriam Palmer was an aphid specialist and master illustrator whose work crafting hyper-realistic wax apples in the early 1900s allowed farmers to confirm rediscovery of the lost Colorado Orange apple, a fruit that has been successfully propagated in recent years.
In 1945, Allison retired as both an emerita professor and emerita dean at CSU. She immediately stepped into the role of student and took classes in Russian and biochemistry.
In the fall of 1958, CSU opened a new dormitory for women that was named Allison Hall in her honor.
The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Pope Francis’ journey from the streets of Flores, a neighbourhood in Buenos Aires, Argentina, to the Vatican, is a remarkable tale.
Born in 1936, Jorge Bergoglio was raised in a middle-class family of Italian Catholic immigrants.
Bergoglio defied his mother’s wish for him to become a medical doctor and chose instead to pursue priesthood, a calling he felt during confession. The young man joined the Jesuits in the 1950s, attracted to the order’s vow of poverty and its ethos of serving others and living simply.
He became a priest in 1969, Archbishop of Buenos Aires in 1998, and took on the papacy in 2013. As Pope Francis, his dedication to social justice was deeply rooted in the Latin American context.
The region’s history of inequality, poverty and political upheaval greatly influenced his perspective.
The young Argentinian priest
Bergoglio, a devoted supporter of the San Lorenzo soccer team, was also a confident tango dancer, mate drinker, and an unconditional admirer of his compatriot, Jorge Luis Borges, one of the most influential writers of the 20th century.
In 1965, the two men collaborated on the publication of short stories written by Bergoglio’s literature students. The students had been inspired by a seminar led by Borges, organised by the young priest.
Borges thought highly of Bergoglio, finding him charming and intelligent. For Borges, Bergoglio was a Jesuit through and through, noting the clerics of that order had been historically transgressive as well as possessors of a good sense of humour.
While Borges never saw him transformed into Pope Francis, his observations somehow fit with the respect Bergoglio earned as a global leader.
Theology of the people
As Archbishop of Buenos Aires, he lived modestly, often taking public transport and dedicating himself to the poor and disenfranchised. He personally attended the needs of underprivileged neighbourhoods known as villas miseria (literally “misery towns”) in Argentine Spanish.
He was a vocal opponent to economic inequality. During the 2001 Argentine economic crisis he advocated for the rights and dignity of impoverished citizens.
Pope Francis hails from a region deeply influenced by the progressive movements of Catholic priests and nuns, who were significantly inspired by liberation theology during the 1960s in Latin America.
Liberation theology developed in Latin America during the latter part of the 20th century, as a reaction to significant political and theological transformations in the area. It believed in political liberation for the oppressed, inspired by the Cuban Revolution and Second Vatican Council by Pope John XXIII, both in 1959.
While Francis did not fully subscribe to the tenets of liberation theology, much of his dedication to social justice aligns with its ideals. Pope Francis’ social awareness was deeply shaped by the “theology of the people”.
Distinct to Argentina, and emerging in the 1960s, the theology of the people shared liberation theology’s focus on social justice, but is devoid of Marxist ideology, and emphasises the dignity and agency of the marginalised and the impoverished.
During Argentina’s dictatorial regime from 1976–83, Bergoglio led the Jesuits. But he did not adopt the highly dangerous stance of full opposition typical among liberation theologians elsewhere in Argentina and other parts of Latin America.
Commenting on Latin American affairs
In his early years as the Pope, he resonated with progressive Catholics across Latin America, because of his grounding in Argentinian theology and his focus on social justice. But in recent years, his popularity in some Latin American countries declined.
In Argentina, this dip in enthusiasm is partly attributed to his decision not to visit, despite travelling to neighbouring nations.
More profoundly, the decline likely stems from his fixed stance against contentious issues such as same-sex marriage and abortion. To the disappointment of many Argentines and other Latin American citizens, he refused to compromise.
Throughout his papacy, Pope Francis received all Argentine presidents – even those who were previously critical of him, such as Cristina Fernández de Kirchner.
He maintained a strong connection to his Buenos Aires roots and remained engaged with Argentina’s social and political landscape, often commenting on situations that provoke strong reactions from politicians.
He was a critic of policies instituted by the current President of Argentina, Javier Milei, particularly Milei’s libertarian model of economy and the government’s brutal response to public dissent and opposition. In September 2024, the Pope famously said:
the government put its foot down: instead of paying for social justice, it paid for pepper spray.
An alternative model of leadership
By reflecting on how Pope Francis’ theology is rooted in the Argentina he grew up in, we can better understand his actions as Pope.
He appointed clergymen from non-European countries, enhancing representation from Asia, Africa and Latin America and increased the participation of women within the Church’s leadership structures.
His landmark encyclical, Laudato Si’, underscored the moral imperative to address climate change, inspiring accolades from global leaders. His critique of Israel and the conflict in Gaza underscored his consistent opposition to war and advocacy for peace.
Despite existing tensions and contradictions within his papacy – particularly regarding the Church’s stance on LGBTQIA+ issues and women’s rights – Pope Francis’s approach to global issues remained steadfast and aligned with his core values, and the Buenos Aires he came of age in.
Francis’s leadership is a product of his upbringing and a catalyst for regional and global dialogue on social justice.
The profound influence of the Latin American region on him is well captured by long time friend, Uruguayan lawyer and activist, Guzman Carriquiry who described the Pope as:
Priest, and profoundly priest; Jesuit and profoundly Jesuit; Latin American, and profoundly Latin American.
Fernanda Peñaloza 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.
Russian President Vladimir Putin has draped himself in old-fashioned, medieval conceptions of Russian history to add symbolic weight to his authoritarian government.AP Photo/Alexander Zemlianichenko
Published in March 2025, the textbook’s co-author Nina Ostanina, chair of the State Duma Committee for the Protection of the Family, claims that it will teach students “traditional moral values” that will improve “the demographic situation in the country” as part of a “Family Studies” course that was rolled out in the 2024-2025 school year.
But some of those lessons for modern living come from a less-than-modern source. Among the materials borrowed from in “My Family” is the 16th century “Domostroi” – a collection of rules for maintaining patriarchal domestic order. It was written, supposedly, by Sylvester, a monk-tutor of czar Ivan the Terrible.
Unsurprisingly, some teachings from “Domostroi” seem out-of-keeping with today’s sensibilities. For example, it states that it is the right of a father to coerce, if needed by force, his household – at the time, this would refer to both relatives and slaves – in accordance with Orthodox dogmas.
“Husbands should teach their wives with love and exemplary instruction,” reads one of the Domostroi quotations repeated in the textbook.
“Wives ask their husbands about strict order, how to save their souls, please God and their husbands, arrange their home well, and submit to their husbands in all matters; and what the husband orders, they should agree with love and carry out according to his commands,” reads another extract
The use of “Domostroi” in the textbook both references the past while evoking the current government’s politics of decriminalizing family violence. A 2017 law, for example, removed nonaggravated “battery of close persons” from the list of criminal offenses.
It also fits a wider pattern. As a scholar of historical memory, I have observed that references to the Russian Middle Ages are part of the Kremlin’s broader politics of using the medieval past to justify current agendas, something I have termed “political neomedievalism.”
Indeed, President Vladimir Putin’s government is actively prioritizing initiatives that use medieval Russia as a model for the country’s future. In doing so, the Kremlin unites a long-nurtured dream of the Russian far right with a broader quest for the fulfillment of Russian imperial ambitions.
But the group’s name evokes the first reign of brutal state terror in Russian history. The Oprichnina was a state policy unleashed by Ivan the Terrible from 1565 to 1572 to establish his unrestrained power over the country. The oprichniks were Ivan’s personal guard, who attached a dog’s head and a broom to their saddles to show that they were the czar’s “dogs” who swept treason away.
Chroniclers and foreign travelers left accounts of the sadistic tortures and mass executions that were conducted with Ivan’s participation. The oprichniks raped and dismembered women, flayed or boiled men alive and burned children. In this frenzy of violence, they slaughtered many thousands of innocent people.
Ivan’s reign led to a period known as the “Time of Troubles,” marked by famine and military defeat. Some scholars estimate that by its end, Russia lost nearly two-thirds of its population.
Ivan IV, czar of Russia from 1547 to 1584, known as Ivan the Terrible. Rischgitz/Getty Images
Throughout Russian history, Ivan the Terrible – who among his other crimes murdered his eldest son and had the head of Russian Orthodox Church strangled for dissent – was remembered as a repulsive tyrant.
However, since the mid-2000s, when the Russian government under Putin took an increasingly authoritarian turn, Ivan and his terror have undergone a state-driven process of reevalution.
The Kremlin and its far-right proxies now paint Ivan as a great statesman and devout Russian Orthodox Christian who laid the foundations of the Russian Empire.
Prior to that alteration of Russian historical memory, only one other Russian head of state had held Ivan in such high esteem: Josef Stalin.
Even so, no public monuments to Ivan existed until 2016, when Putin’s officials unveiled the first of three bronze statues dedicated to the terrible czar. Yet, the cinematic propaganda outmatched the commemorations of Ivan in stone. By my count, from 2009 to 2022, 12 state-sponsored films and TV series paying tribute to Ivan the Terrible and his rule aired in prime time on Russian TV channels.
Russian revisionism
The post-Soviet rehabilitation of Ivan the Terrible goes back to the writings of Ivan Snychov, the metropolitan, or high ranking bishop, of Saint Petersburg and Ladoga. His book, “The Autocracy of the Spirit,” published in 1994, gave rise to a fundamentalist sect known as “Tsarebozhie,” or neo-Oprichnina. Tsarebozhie calls for a return to an autocratic monarchy, a society of orders and the canonization of all Russian czars. The belief that Russian state power is “sacred” – a central dogma of the sect – was reaffirmed on April 18, 2025, by Alexander Kharichev, an official in Putin’s Presidential Administration, in an article that has been likened to an instruction manual for the “builder of Putinism.”
The canonization of Ivan the Terrible specifically is a top priority for members of this sect. And while the Russian Orthodox Church has yet to canonize Ivan, Tsarebozhie have garnered significant support from Russian priests, politicians and laypersons alike. Their efforts sit alongside Putin’s yearslong push to give public support for Ivan. Not by chance, Putin’s minister of foreign affairs, Sergei Lavrov, reportedly named Ivan the Terrible among one of Putin’s three “most trusted advisers.”
In Snychov’s worldview, Russians are a messianic people, part of an imperial nation that is uniquely responsible for preventing Satan’s domination of the world. In his explicitly antisemitic pseudo-history of Russia, the Oprichnina is described as a “saintly monastic order” led by a “pious tsar.”
Since the 1930s, when Stalin used Ivan to justify his own repressions, Ivan and Stalin – the Oprichnina and Stalinism – became historical doubles. The whitewashing of Ivan by the Kremlin goes hand in hand with Putin’s rehabilitation of Stalin as commander in chief of the Soviet Union’s victory in World War II.
Promoting the cult of the “Great Patriotic War” – as the Second World War has officially been called since the Soviet period – has been central to Putin’s militarization of Russian society and part of the propaganda effort to foster support for the invasion of Ukraine. The remorse for the loss of empire and desire to restore it underlies Moscow’s discourse over the past two decades.
Putin’s neomedieval politics have adopted the Russian far-right belief that the country should return to the traditions of medieval Rus, as it existed before the Westernization reforms undertaken by Peter the Great in the early 18th century.
Over the past 15 years, Russian TV viewers have received an average of two state-funded movies per month, advertising the benefits of Russian medieval society and praising Russian medieval warlords.
This use of Russian historical memory has allowed Putin to normalize his use of state violence abroad and at home and mobilize support for his suppression of the opposition. The major goal of political neomedievalism is to legitimize huge social and economic inequalities in post-Soviet society as a part of Russia’s national heritage.
To serve the purpose of undermining the rule of law and democratic freedoms, as my research demonstrates, the Kremlin and its proxies have promoted the Russian Middle Ages – with its theocratic monarchy, society of estates, slavery, serfdom and repression – as a state-sponsored alternative to democracy.
Dina Khapaeva 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 – Africa – By Emmanuel Kwesi Aning, Faculty of Academic Affairs & Research, Kofi Annan International Peace Keeping Center
The Economic Community of West African states (Ecowas) is set to mark 50 years in May 2025. It was established in 1975 by 16 member states. Though seven of the founding leaders had ascended to power through coups d’état, the initial focus was economic growth and regional trade and cooperation.
Within three years, however, its mandates were expanded to encompass political, security and other objectives. These additions were necessary as the west African post-independence governments sought to respond to shifting socio-economic and security challenges. These included coup d’états in Niger, Nigeria, Ghana and Mauritania. There were also other threats to the rule of law, electoral integrity and good governance.
To address the expansion of its mandate, the Ecowas treaties were revised in 1993 to pass more power to the regional bloc.
These changes unsettled the relationships among member states. Acting in unison or following the rules hasn’t always suited national agendas. That partly explains the decision by Mali, Niger and Burkina Faso to break away from Ecowas in 2024.
Most recently, the military government in Guinea, Togo’s Gnassingbe dynasty and Chad’s Déby regime have all resisted Ecowas pressure. Their domestic political agendas contradict the organisation’s norms and principles.
We have years of research spanning politics, citizenship, international relations and civil conflict.
Admittedly, the withdrawal of Mali, Niger and Burkina Faso – to form the Alliance of Sahel States – will form an unsettling cloud over the Ecowas anniversary. We argue however that despite inevitable upheavals during five decades of postcolonial nation-building, Ecowas can look back on successes in integration, peace and security, and good governance.
The consequences of the withdrawal of the three countries for Ecowas as a whole shouldn’t be overstated. Still, it is a telling blow to the organisation. It represents a direct questioning of the principle of regional integration and cooperation.
The three military juntas evidently see Ecowas as a dysfunctional club of self-interested heads of state that kowtows to Europe.
African public opinion has swung in favour of a brand of populism promising quick military solutions. It’s seen as the antidote to the failure of domestic and multilateral attempts to stem jihadist violence in the Sahel.
In practice, the juntas have relied on states of emergency as a cover for systematic aggression and abuse of civilian populations.
Even if one accepts the trade-off between security and democracy, the new military rulers have so far been unable to stem jihadist violence in their countries. Instead they have committed violence against their own populations. This is especially the case in Mali and Burkina Faso.
These acts include the summary execution of several hundred civilians in Burkina Faso in 2024.
Despite these abuses, the military juntas have succeeded in framing Ecowas as part of the problem of external control over national sovereignty. This is at the heart of Ecowas’s emerging legitimacy crisis. It is a crisis which undermines many of the soft diplomacy tools that have worked relatively well in the past to unite its members.
The soft power tools include:
the Council of the Wise – deployed in mediation and negotiation in a number of political crises in the region, including those in Liberia, Sierra Leone, Niger, Guinea, Guinea-Bissau and Togo
Traditional Authorities and Leaders, who are sent in when other mechanisms fail.
These diplomatic tools are less visible than high-level delegations and official statements or sanctions. But they have been employed in numerous political crises in the subregion over the past two decades.
They have arguably tempered the outcomes of constitutional crises, like the one sparked by a popular uprising in Burkina Faso in 2014. They also defused the political crisis in Guinea Bissau between 2015 and 2019.
The small victories of soft diplomacy don’t always lead to outright successes. But they have been a means to allow Ecowas involvement in mediation efforts. They have ensured the organisation’s overall relevance and justification in the face of unconstitutional changes of government.
The failure of the soft diplomacy mechanisms in the biggest crisis to face Ecowas tests the organisation’s ability to withstand future crises.
The way forward for Ecowas at 50
The next phase for Ecowas starts in the context of public perceptions critical of the member states. Criticism has been levelled against Ecowas as a “union of heads of state” prioritising their interests over the people’s.
Nevertheless, most of the citizens still prefer democracy as a political system. Even the military juntas embrace (at least on paper) these basic principles as their long-term aspiration.
Ecowas has championed democratic values of equality, freedom, justice, pluralism, tolerance, respect and public participation. These remain the keys to reversing the sub-region’s recent unconstitutional changes of government. Ecowas must strengthen its voice in calling for a return to civilian rule and the respect of its fundamental democratic principles.
The organisation’s representatives must articulate these basic values as an expression of the will of its citizens.
On the other hand, Ecowas must continue to leave the dorrs openen to the military juntas. This could potentially facilitate the transition to civilian rule and signal a fresh start for regional collaboration. Its soft diplomacy tools will be essential for improving dialogue and reaching viable compromises.
Ecowas must strive to improve its legitimacy in the eyes of the populations of its member states. This can be achieved by applying its own democratic values consistently and objectively across the region. The anniversary provides an important opportunity for introspection and genuine institutional reform.
Emmanuel Kwesi Aning receives funding from D-SIP – Domestic Security Implications of UN Peacekeeping in Ghana, which is a Danish Funded Program
Jesper Bjarnesen receives funding from the Swedish Science Council (grant VR2019-03444).
After more than three years of war, the prospects of peace for Ukraine remain slim. There is no obvious credible pathway even to a ceasefire, given Russia’s refusal to extend a brief and shaky truce over Easter. This, despite the US, UK and Ukraine all signalling their support for this idea.
And even if the considerable hurdles impeding a ceasefire deal could be overcome, a more fundamental problem would remain. None of the key players in the conflict appear to have a plan for an agreement that is likely to be acceptable to Kyiv and Moscow.
Previous plans, such as a joint proposal by China and Brazil in May last year which was supported by a Chinese-led “Friends of Peace” group were primarily focused on a ceasefire as a stepping stone to negotiations about an actual peace agreement.
This and other plans were all light on detail of what a peace deal between Russia and Ukraine would entail but were nonetheless roundly rejected by Ukraine and its western allies as favouring Russia. Given that a ceasefire would simply freeze the front lines and very likely make them permanent with or without a subsequent peace agreement, this was not an unreasonable position.
What Ukraine proposed instead, however – and what its western allies backed, at least rhetorically – was hardly more viable. The peace plan proposed by Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelensky in December 2022 was already on life support at the time of the first “Summit on Peace in Ukraine” in Switzerland in June 2024.
Only 84 of the 100 delegations attending the summit (out of 160 invited) supported a watered-down version of Zelensky’s plan in their final communique – and there was no agreement on a follow-up meeting. Ukraine’s peace plan was clearly dead in the water.
Ukraine then proposed an “internal resilience plan”. With its its focus on ensuring that the country can survive a long war of attrition with Russia, this is anything but a peace plan.
But it serves Kyiv’s needs to avoid an unconditional surrender to Moscow. This is also high on the agenda for Ukraine’s European allies who remain committed to supporting Kyiv.
For the emerging European coalition of the willing, it is important to keep Ukraine in the fight while they build up their own defences. They face the possibility of a new international order in which the world might well be carved up into US, Russian and Chinese spheres of influence.
Where the White House stands
Such a carve-up is at the heart of efforts by the US president, Donald Trump. Trump is trying to secure a ceasefire between Russia and Ukraine as well as a deal that would give the US privileged access to Ukrainian resources.
The ceasefire deal Trump appears to envisage would divide Ukraine itself into spheres of influence according to a plan recently suggested by Trump’s special envoy for Ukraine, Keith Kellogg. Yet even such a pro-Moscow arrangement that would offer Putin control of 20% of Ukraine continues to elude negotiators.
At present, the Russian president has few incentives to settle for less than his maximum demands and stop a war that he thinks he is still able to win on the battlefield – particularly given Trump’s unwillingness to exert any meaningful pressure on Russia.
At times, it now appears more likely that Trump will simply abandon his efforts to end the fighting in Ukraine. From a Russian perspective, this would be preferable to a ceasefire that freezes the conflict but doesn’t lead to a peace deal reflecting Moscow’s demands.
The likely calculation in the Kremlin is that even if the 2026 mid-term elections in the US water down Trump’s power, that still leaves two more years to conquer more Ukrainian territory. Should Washington then make another push for a ceasefire, Moscow could claim any additional conquests as a price for Ukraine to pay for a settlement.
The simple reason for this is that Russia’s and Ukraine’s positions on an acceptable outcome have not shifted. Putin remains committed to the full annexation of four complete Ukrainian regions as well as retaining Crimea. Zelensky has repeatedly ruled out territorial concessions and is broadly supported by Ukrainians in this stance.
For the west, the reality that a peace agreement is close to impossible on terms satisfying all sides has become a self-fulfilling prophecy. To the extent that there are any joint efforts by Ukraine, the US and the European coalition of the willing, they are completely centred on a workable ceasefire.
At a meeting of foreign ministers and high-level officials in Paris on April 17, discussions were focused on making such a ceasefire sustainable.
While details of how this can be achieved remain unclear, the fact that there now appears to be a more inclusive negotiations track signals progress, at least on the process of negotiations. Whether this will lead to an actual breakthrough towards a sustainable ceasefire, however, will depend on their substance and whether Ukraine and Russia can ultimately agree on terms about disengagement of forces, monitoring, and guarantees and enforcement mechanisms.
This is an already incredibly high bar, and the bar for a subsequent peace agreement is higher yet. In the current stage of Russia’s war of aggression against Ukraine, a ceasefire is clearly a precondition for a peace agreement. But the sole focus on the former will not make the latter any more likely.
What’s more, given Russia’s track record of reneging on the Minsk ceasefire agreements of September 2014 and February 2015, investing everything in a ceasefire deal might turn out not just a self-fulfilling but a self-defeating prophecy for Ukraine and its supporters.
Stefan Wolff is a past recipient of grant funding from the Natural Environment Research Council of the UK, the United States Institute of Peace, the Economic and Social Research Council of the UK, the British Academy, the NATO Science for Peace Programme, the EU Framework Programmes 6 and 7 and Horizon 2020, as well as the EU’s Jean Monnet Programme. He is a Trustee and Honorary Treasurer of the Political Studies Association of the UK and a Senior Research Fellow at the Foreign Policy Centre in London.
Tetyana Malyarenko 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.
And while more recent attempts, such as the Spread Campaign in Australia, have tended to be less overtly graphic, they still focus exclusively on harms associated with drinking, such as cancer. They use fear to try and scare people into changing their drinking behaviour.
But despite their popularity with policymakers, psychological research has generally shown that campaigns based on fear do not change behaviour. What’s more, our researchhas found that even when young people thought they would regret what they did when drunk and made plans to drink less, they still ended up drinking the same amount.
Over a number of research studies, we’ve tried to figure out why regret doesn’t change drinking behaviour. What we’ve found is that for many young people, the fear of missing out on the good things they might experience while drinking outweighs the fear that they might do something they regret.
When young people in a focus group talked about their binge drinking, several downplayed the severity of the things they’d done while drunk – which included taking their clothes off in a nightclub and dancing naked on a table, and getting a tattoo of a footballer on their bum. They explained that the social benefits they got out of drinking, such as making shared memories, bonding and meeting new people, outweighed any negative consequences that followed.
This helps to explain why health campaigns can be ineffective. If you can justify naked dancing or getting a tattoo on your bum, you’re not going be too bothered about feeling a bit sick the morning after.
In a second, ongoing study, we talked to young adults about their fears of missing social events. Many told us that not attending these events meant exclusion from in-jokes based on shared experiences, leaving them feeling isolated. One of our interviewees even admitted an event would be “rubbish” but went anyway so as to not miss out.
So, it seemed to us that regret might work differently for things you do – “action regret” – versus things you do not do: “inaction regret”.
Applied to alcohol, this makes sense. Memories of hangovers fade, but you hold on to those shared experiences that mean so much. Conversely, not sharing experiences means you are left out of conversations, wondering what might have been.
This means that Fomo – the fear of missing out – might be a better predictor of young adults’ drinking behaviour than anticipating regret.
For our most recently published research study, we recruited over 100 young adults aged 18-30 and asked them to report the Fomo they felt and how much they planned to drink. They did this three times a day on three consecutive weekends. We also asked them how much they had gone on to drink each time.
Measuring Fomo and drinking plans multiple times over a short period helped us understand fluctuations in feelings and drinking plans. Our results show that experiencing higher levels of Fomo increased how much young adults planned to drink, and led to them drinking more.
This suggests one reason young adults drink more after experiencing Fomo is that they believe drinking more makes it more likely something memorable will happen. This supports what we found in our qualitative studies.
In contrast, experiencing Fomo did not make young adults drink more frequently. In another study one of us (Richard) conducted, young adults’ drinking frequency was best predicted by social factors, such as how often young adults contacted their friends about drinking, and their drinking habits.
As drinking often happens in social settings with friends, its frequency is likely to depend more on these social and contextual factors, rather than individual differences in Fomo or drinking plans.
Overall, our research shows that Fomo – an entirely psychological phenomenon – influences young adults’ drinking plans and how much they drink. Such results can help explain why hard-hitting health campaigns that highlight regret following binge-drinking are ineffective at reducing binge-drinking. Young adults are more worried about missing out socially than about the hangover the next day.
Richard Cooke has received funding from NIHR, the Wellcome Trust, European Union, and the European Foundation for Alcohol Research (ERAB) who were funded by the Brewers of Europe. ERAB had no role in study design, collection, analysis or interpretation of data, writing of manuscripts or decisions to submit papers for the projects they supported.
Joel Crawford 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 Isle of Man government has said it is “fully committed to environmental protection and transparency” regarding its Unesco biosphere status – despite admitting that legacy landfill sites are discharging hazardous chemical contaminants into the sea.
The Isle of Man is a self-governing island in the Irish Sea between the UK and and Ireland. It is not part of the UK or the European Union, but has the status of “crown dependency” with an independent administration. Its population of about 84,000 people are British citizens.
But polychlorinated biphenols (PCBs) – synthetic industrial chemicals once used to make electricals and other materials – continue to be released into the waterways and the sea.
Although the production of PCBs was banned globally in the 1980s, they still exist in many products, like electrical equipment, much of which lingers in landfills and so they continue to pose a risk to ocean health. Research has shown how legacy contaminants such as PCBs can be released from hundreds of thousands of coastal landfills across Europe – and the Isle of Man is no different.
Evidence has been accumulating for years about PCB discharges on the Isle of Man and much of it is on the government’s own website.
For example, 4,000 tonnes of toxic silt from harbour dredging – which included PCBs and heavy metals was dumped in the Irish sea in 2014. This “trial dump” was despite environmental and legal advice from its marine monitoring officer that this would be ignoring international agreements and would be damaging to the environment.
The Insights section is committed to high-quality longform journalism. Our editors work with academics from many different backgrounds who are tackling a wide range of societal and scientific challenges.
Then in 2015 – a time when it would have been putting together its Unesco application – the island government compiled a document, titled “the Peel Marina silt questions and answers” in which it discussed further toxic waste dumping options. It states:
Disposing of 18,000 tonnes of contaminated sediments from the marina directly to the sea bed would have had a negative impact on the species involved. Testing carried out by Defa [Department of Environment, Food and Agriculture] officers had already identified the likelihood that earlier disposal of 4,000 tonnes into the sea had contributed to rises in contaminants within commercial fisheries species to levels approaching EU food safety standards.
That batch of 18,000 tonnes of contaminated silt, collected after harbour dredging in Peel harbour, was eventually moved to a sealed pit.
But it is the ongoing situation with legacy landfills which is seeing PCBs continuing to leach into the sea – a situation that the island government admits will not be entirely solved until the construction of a wastewater treatment plant (building is due to start on the plant in April 2025).
But despite its pledges of being a destination with a “fantastic seascape…and coastline”, contaminated leachate from decommissioned landfill continues to drain into the marine environment.
The Isle of Man applied for the biosphere reserve status in 2013, which was awarded in 2016 based on the submission of a comprehensive 250-page nomination document. But there was no mention of toxic landfill leachate or the dumping of thousands of tonnes of contaminated harbour silt which later came to light.
The Isle of Man government told The Conversation that Unesco was aware of the discharges and that “biosphere status is not a hallmark of perfection”. It said its PCB discharges are in line with those of the UK.
But it raises the question of whether such pollution can be in line with the spirit of the biosphere status.
It is important to be clear that the Isle of Man is not unique in the British Islands in having managed disposal or unintentional discharges of legacy industrial wastes to the sea.
My team’s research (Patrick Byrne’s) documents thousands of coastal landfills in England and Wales, many of which discharge hazardous materials to the sea through leachates or erosion.
A Unesco biosphere reserve is not supposed to be perfect – almost nowhere is. But it should be a model for how we protect and sustainably manage our environment, including how we address legacy pollution. Why not highlight the issue of legacy industrial wastes as a challenge to be met?
The Isle of Man government rejects the idea that it misrepresented any of the facts around its environmental credentials.
But when The Conversation put the details to Unesco, it said it had not been made aware of previous dumping of toxic silt containing PCBs in 2014 and added that the first time the issue was raised with them was “in late 2023”.
A spokesperson said: “At the time of the nomination, the International Committee of the Unesco Biosphere Programme was not aware of this issue.”
The government told The Conversation it included “all information relevant for consideration by Unesco” when it made its application, but said certain discharges were not in the “zonation area” and that “nowhere is perfect”.
The major concern is about being open and honest with the public and Unesco about the environmental challenges and potential human health concerns associated with legacy pollutants like PCBs. It is entirely possible that the Isle of Man’s Unesco status would still have been granted if Unesco had been fully aware about the dumping at sea.
Landfills
The Conversation spoke to Calum MacNeil, a freshwater scientist who worked for the Isle of Man government for 13 years. He now works for a research institute in New Zealand but has been flagging concerns about contamination from toxic silt. Together with his help, we spent months gathering all of the evidence, checking the facts and joining the dots between silt dredged from a harbour, landfills and sealed pits aimed at temporarily dealing with this legacy pollution.
On the Isle of Man, historic landfills dating back to the 1940s are unlined so they are not sealed. After heavy rain, pollutants can wash away and leach out into the surrounding environment.
According to a 2017 news report, the government stated that the leachate “does not pose a risk to people swimming in Peel Bay” because it’s diluted by seawater. MacNeil insists that this is “a crucial admission” because he believes that the government cannot scientifically prove that any public exposure to PCB contamination is ever safe.
MacNeil said: “I feel there needs to be international scientific and legal scrutiny of all of this. I believe both Unesco and the UK government’s Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (Defra) have a responsibility here as well given the international agreements involved and the biosphere designation. Given the biosphere status, surely the Isle of Man government should be acting not just to the letter of the law but in the spirit of the law.”
Regulations
While various international regulations govern levels of chemical contamination in leachate in and immediately around old landfills, the same rules do not apply to anything that is deliberately dumped or discharged directly into rivers or the sea.
Isle of Man legislation called the Water Pollution Act 1993 outlines that any discharge or dumping must abide by any and all relevant international agreements that apply to the Isle of Man.
MacNeil argues that the onus should be on the Isle of Man government to prove that any discharge of PCBs is legal under international agreements.
Tourists and local residents swim all year round in bathing waters such as Peel Bay, and praise for this nation’s marine conservation achievements is vast. Last summer, the Isle of Man was even nominated for the “most desirable island in Europe” travel award hosted by magazine Wanderlust.
With goals to grow annual visitor numbers to 500,000, a thriving ecotourism industry could contribute an estimated £520 million by 2032. According to the island’s tourism agency, Visit Isle of Man, it aims to be “a leading British ecotourism destination that provides a range of opportunities for visitors to connect with our unique nature and wildlife”.
Contaminated silt was allegedly dredged from Peel harbour and dumped out at sea. Daniel Sztork/Shutterstock
As one 2022 study explains, biosphere reserves are “learning sites for sustainable development”. Researchers point out that a coherent and holistic approach on the Isle of Man is not necessarily easy to achieve, in part because the biosphere is managed by one government department (Defa) with a remit for environment, food and agriculture, resulting in “age-old tensions between farming and conservation”.
The Isle of Man government’s website states: “Our biosphere status encourages us to learn about and cherish what we have in the Isle of Man and safeguard it for the future by making good decisions, as individuals, as organisations and as an island. It tells potential new residents and visitors that we are a special place for people and nature and have a conscience.”
But without openly acknowledging the legacy pollution challenges, they are literally being buried for future generations. This ultimately undermines local, national, and international efforts to learn and move forward in a sustainable way, which is at the heart of the Unesco biosphere philosophy.
A spokesperson for the Isle of Man government said:
“The Isle of Man government remains fully committed to environmental protection and transparency regarding its Unesco Biosphere status. We reject any assertion that the government has acted to misrepresent environmental matters in its Unesco application.
“All relevant data and policies have been developed in line with scientific evidence and regulatory frameworks. The Isle of Man government conducts rigorous environmental monitoring, including assessments of water quality and potential contaminants, to ensure compliance with established safety standards.
“The Isle of Man has legacy landfill sites similar to those found in the UK, Europe and around the world which leach contaminants, including PCBs, into the marine environment. Details of PCB discharges from UK landfills can be found on the UK Pollutant Release and Transfer Register (PRTR) data sets where the pollutant threshold below which data is not required to be submitted for PCBs in water is stated as 0.1kg.
“The level of PCBs entering the marine environment in the Isle of Man is slightly lower than the average throughout the Irish Sea as determined by sediment and biota samples.
“The leachate discharge from the historic Raggatt landfill, which closed in 1990, is planned to be discharged to Peel Wastewater Treatment Plant which has recently received planning permission and construction expected to commence by April 2025.
“As stated on the Department of Environment, Food and Agriculture’s pollution control monitoring webpage: ‘Independent advice from Phoenix Engineering is that this would represent the best available technology to manage and control emissions of PCBs present in Raggatt landfill leachate to the marine environment in Peel.’
“Due to historic mining, heavy metals such as lead are known to flow down the river and accumulate in silt at Peel Marina, which has previously exceeded Cefas action level 2 where sediments are considered unacceptable for uncontrolled disposal at sea without special handling and containment. No further deposits to sea of Peel dredging silt have been made since 2014, and a catchment management plan is currently being developed to reduce this contamination at Peel Marina.
“The aim for all Unesco Biospheres is to improve our environment; something which the Isle of Man has consistently strived to achieve since accreditation in 2016.”
A spokesperson for Unesco said:
“Unesco first received information on this issue in late 2023, which was then relayed to the relevant government authorities for comments. Unesco was informed that the situation appeared to stem from the presence of a UK historic landfill which is being followed through a comprehensive monitoring programme.
“Following Unesco’s request, the UK Department for Environment, Food & Rural Affairs confirmed that ‘it is in line with the UK government’s responsibilities under the Ospar convention, and are satisfied the Isle of Man government is taking all possible steps to prevent and eliminate pollution of PCBs from land-based sources entering the marine environment in line with Article 3 of the Ospar convention’.
“In the original application dossier, the Isle of Man committed to ‘take responsibility for overseeing salvage and pollution counter-measures in order to comply with international conventions’. It also committed to observing a range of multilateral environmental agreements (MEAs).
“As the Isle of Man Biosphere Reserve was designated in 2016, its periodic review is scheduled for 2026. Unesco will make all information available to the Intergovernmental Committee in charge of examining the renewal of the status.”
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Patrick Byrne receives funding from the UK Natural Environment Research Council.
Anna Turns 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.
I first spoke to freshwater scientist Calum MacNeil in February 2022. He explained to me that The Isle of Man – a self-governing island in the Irish Sea between the UK and and Ireland – was being cast as world’s only “all-nation” Unesco biosphere reserve.
He explained how, in 2014, before its Unesco designation, contaminated silt was deliberately dumped in the Irish Sea. While designated as a biosphere, contaminated silt dredged from a marine harbour has been contained in a sealed pit but leachate from that has discharged into Peel Bay, where people regularly swim from the sandy beaches.
As an environmental journalist, the story stood out to me and the more we spoke, the more the plot thickened.
I spent hours of my spare time digesting the evidence he sent me – all of it in the public domain. Government reports, online pollution policies, local news coverage, the biosphere nomination documents.
MacNeil, who worked for the Isle of Man government between 2004 and 2017, knew what he was talking about.
But the more I looked into this, the more I felt up against smoke and mirrors. Beautiful beaches, clean seas and a thriving ecotourism destination (according to the government’s tourism marketing). Contrast that with contaminated waste ending up in the ocean.
Three years on, and The Conversation’s Insights team and I have been working closely with Professor of Water Science at Liverpool John Moores University, Patrick Byrne. He has analysed and interpreted the consequences of this pollution.
While pollution is rife around the world to a certain extent, this instance is particularly shocking, he explains.
Now, The Conversation is proud to present our exclusive Insights investigation, Leaked, in two key parts. An introductory news article written Byrne explains the backstory and highlights the prominence of Isle of Man’s Unesco biosphere status.
Further analysis unfolds in an in-depth Q&A between Byrne and MacNeil. Byrne explains the gravity of legacy contamination from synthetic toxic chemicals known as polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs), and why transparency is so key.
Don’t have time to read about climate change as much as you’d like?
Periods can be painful, unpredictable and disruptive. And for autistic people, they can present additional challenges. From sensory sensitivities to barriers accessing healthcare, the experience of autistic menstruation remains under-explored in research.
Our new review highlights just how little we know about autistic experiences of periods – and why more inclusive research from autistic people themselves is needed.
Menstruation – the biological process in which blood is discharged through the vagina from the inner lining of the uterus – is often described as a negative experience. Periods can be irregular, heavy and painful. They may also affect a person socially and emotionally.
Despite 1.8 billion people across the world menstruating every month, period stigma still exists. For many, this leads to social isolation and negatively affects their access to appropriate menstrual education and products. And, while menstrual products and awareness have improved over the last few decades, many people across the globe are still unable to afford the products they need.
Incidences of structural sexism within education, the workplace and healthcare can negatively affect those who aren’t cisgender men. People assigned female at birth – including girls, women, transgender men and some non-binary people – who experience menstruation are affected by the historical focus on the male body in healthcare. For example, gynaecological conditions such as endometriosis are only now receiving attention within research, having previously been largely ignored.
Autism research has historically focused on cisgender men and boys. The experiences of autistic people assigned female at birth have only recently started to be researched, especially in relation to their reproductive care. What limited research does exist has shown poorer physical, mental and social wellbeing outcomes relating to their experiences of menstruation.
We reviewed existing studies that detail experiences of periods both from the point of view of autistic people and those who support them. We focused on research that had interviewed autistic people directly, and those within their social circle, about periods. Twelve sources, including research papers, articles and blogs, fitted our criteria, from which we identified the important themes.
Our sources included contributions from autistic people who were mostly teenagers and young adults, alongside parents, siblings, and medical and educational professionals. While the themes discussed depended on who was being spoken to, many autistic reflections focused on the need for information and practical support ahead of periods starting.
Some interviewees described having autism-specific experiences during menstruation, such as increased sensory sensitivities and burnout (a state of exhaustion and personal withdrawal). These were often unseen by the people around them.
Parental and professional comments typically focused on the need for tailored support for their autistic children who were menstruating, with the end-goal of independence. Often, their comments set the child against neurotypical standards, the social norms of the majority.
Menstruation was described as a predominantly negative experience by everyone who was spoken to. But mentions of period stigma affected how comfortable autistic people were discussing this topic with others.
They were also less likely to access social networks and peer support in social environments such as schools. Very often because of this, autistic people weren’t provided with the knowledge they needed to compare their experiences with those of other people.
Pain
The dismissal of pain emerged as a significant issue. Many autistic people reported that their pain was normalised by those around them, including parents, siblings and school staff, regardless of its severity. They were told their level of pain was something everyone else also experienced and dealt with. Autistic people were also likely to internalise these messages until they became their own opinions and beliefs.
Since autistic people often perceive and communicate pain differently, this can lead to delays in seeking help – and being rejected when they do so.
The lack of autistic voices in research influences the kind of support that is developed. If resources are designed based on the priorities of parents or professionals rather than autistic people themselves, these resources may fail to meet the needs of the people having periods.
There are specific autism-related experiences of menstruation that we know less about because of the lack of research. Our review suggests autistic people are often held to neurotypical standards of menstrual management – without recognition of autism-specific factors such as sensory sensitivities, communication differences and the ways in which information is best conveyed.
We argue that future research on menstruation should include autistic voices, speaking to people of different ages and backgrounds about their experiences.
By prioritising autistic perspectives, we can develop more accessible resources and communication strategies that ensure this knowledge is transferred in ways that make sense for those who need it most. Tailored support could also help parents, carers and professionals better understand and respond to autistic experiences of menstruation.
If we want to create meaningful change, we need to start by listening to autistic people themselves.
Aimee Grant receives funding from the Wellcome Trust, Medical Research Council and the Morgan Advanced Studies Institute. She is a non-executive director of Disability Wales.
Monique Craine owns & runs Neurodivergent Matters. They are a member of Welsh Labour. They are part of the Independent Advisory Group for Dyfed Powys Police. Monique is also a community councillor for Tawe Uchaf Community Council.
Rebecca Ellis 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 Detris Honora Adelabu, Clinical Professor of Applied Human Development, Boston University
More than 440 anti-DEI bills have been introduced in 42 states since the 2023 Supreme Court decision that ended race-conscious college admissions.J Studios/Getty Images
Where people are born and how they live shape their access to health care, education, nutritious food, stable housing and fair treatment within the justice system. This inequity, Ansell argues, creates a “death gap” where systemic barriers to opportunity and well-being shorten lives.
As professors focused on human development and education, we are committed to building fair and equitable living and learning opportunities for all students. We believe reducing diversity, equity and inclusion to a catchphrase or acronym undermines its importance and purpose to tackle the racism and biases that contribute to unfairness and injustice.
More than a single concept
DEI is more than an acronym or catchphrase. When diversity, equity and inclusion is reduced to a buzzword, it undermines its importance and the depth of work required to create inclusive spaces.
Each component of DEI represents unique aims and challenges.
Equity is the practice of being fair and just, especially in a way that seeks to address existing inequalities.
Equity means providing fair access to opportunities and resources for people who might otherwise be excluded. This includes those who have been underrepresented due to historical and contemporary biases.
This inequity is illustrated by education funding disparities where public schools attended by majority Black and Latino students receive less funding than majority white, affluent schools.
Inclusion is the state of being included within a group in a way that establishes a feeling of being welcomed and respected.
Broad benefits
Consider the racial diversity in your neighborhood. To what extent is it racially diverse?
Imagine going to the local grocery store and the doors open automatically as you approach. Upon exiting, you push your shopping cart toward the sloped sidewalk designed to provide easy access to the road surface. Although the automatic doors and sloped sidewalk were designed for individuals with physical disabilities, these examples of DEI initiatives make everyday life better for everyone.
The danger of oversimplification
Reducing diversity, equity and inclusion to a catchphrase can lead to a superficial understanding and application of the concepts.
States such as Florida, Texas and Kentucky have introduced policies to dismantle programs aimed at promoting racial and gender equity in education. designer491/Getty Images
Additionally, some organizations hire chief diversity officers without allocating resources or power to enact meaningful policy changes. Such superficial steps toward DEI squander its potential to transform higher education to truly advance diversity, equity and inclusion.
Backlash against DEI
DEI is also susceptible to political manipulation and dismantling.
States such as Florida, Texas and Kentucky have recently introduced policies to dismantle programs aimed at promoting racial and gender equity in education and the workplace.
Meanwhile, in recent years DEI officers and advocates have lost jobs in higher education and other organizations.
DEI has become a scapegoat for political and systemic failures.
Diversity, equity and inclusion is not about individual prejudice or emotions. It’s about addressing the systemic historical exclusions of people of color and other underrepresented groups – people who have not had fair and equitable access to resources and opportunities in America.
Linda Banks-Santilli is a member of the board of Horizons@LMS, a summer enrichment program focused on improving math and literacy for low-income students.
Detris Honora Adelabu and Felicity Crawford do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
In the leaders’ third head-to-head encounter, on Nine on Tuesday, Peter Dutton’s bluntness when pressed on cuts has given more ammunition to Labor’s scare campaign about what a Coalition government might do.
“When John Howard came into power, there was $96 billion of debt from Labor at that point. John Howard didn’t outline the budget from opposition and it is not something you can do from opposition,” Dutton said.
That allowed Anthony Albanese to, once again, rewind the tape to Tony Abbott’s 2014 budget, declaring it had “ripped money out of” education and hospitals. “There will be cuts afterwards – he’s just confirmed that – but they won’t tell you what they are.”
Dutton’s reference to the 1996 budget reinforced the point that he is keeping his options very open on cuts, which will need to go well beyond the squeeze on the public service to which the Coalition is committed. It’s becoming increasingly clear full details won’t be provided before May 3.
Despite best efforts to get them to answer questions as asked, both leaders again blatantly dodged when they could not, or chose not to, give a direct response.
Dutton was asked what he would say to voters who think he is Trump-lite. The opposition leader talked down the clock – about Howard being his inspiration, about mudslinging – but didn’t actually attempt to rebut the point.
Albanese predictably had much to say about Dutton’s nuclear policy. But when he was pressed on whether, if Labor lost, it should accept the people’s verdict and reconsider its position on the nuclear moratorium, the PM rambled about nuclear as a “friendless policy” rather than giving a straight reply.
The debate’s frisson came when the leaders were asked to nominate each other’s biggest lies. The toing and froing included disputation over whether those 2014 cuts were actually “cuts” or just smaller increases than earlier budgeted for. “Prime Minister, you couldn’t lie straight in bed”, Dutton lashed out, with Albanese retorting that his “personal abuse” was “a sign of desperation”.
Who won this encounter, once again differed in the eyes of various beholders.
Pope’s death causes brief hiatus, that disadvantages Dutton
On the day that pre-polling started, both leaders cut back on their campaigning, in the wake of the death of Pope Francis.
The pontiff’s passing has further curtailed this penultimate week of the campaign, a week already shortened at one end by Easter and at the other by Anzac Day.
The hiatus disadvantages the opposition, which has been losing support in the polls, and desperately needs as much opportunity as possible to sell its message.
It also shows the risk of leaving policy releases late. The Coalition would have hoped for some clear air for Wednesdays release of its defence policy, an area where it believes it has an advantage. But news from the Vatican will overshadow local stories for a couple of days or longer.
The pope’s death has drawn attention to something noted by the Catholic Weekly earlier this month, when it said this election “may be the first in Australian history in which both the Prime Minister and the Leader of the Opposition identify as Catholics” – although, it pointed out, that didn’t extend to attending church regularly.
In Australia’s more sectarian days, Labor’s membership was heavily Catholic, with the Liberals the party of Protestants. That broke down over recent decades.
Anthony Albanese reflected on his Catholic roots at Easter and then when paying tribute to the Pope.
On Easter Sunday, when he attended mass at St Mary’s Cathedral in Sydney, he spoke about his time at the school next door. “It’s an important part of my life. When in year six the Christian Brothers heard that I was going to have to leave the school because we weren’t able to afford school fees … in an act of generosity, [they] said ‘just pay what you can’.”
Albanese told The Australian’s Troy Bramston he regarded himself as “a flawed Catholic but it’s a part of my values,”
“I go to church occasionally just by myself. That sense of who I am, it is certainly how I was raised, and those values of kindness and compassion being something that is a strength.”
Peter Dutton’s story is more complicated. His father’s family was Catholic; his mother’s Protestant. Dutton told Bramston this gave rise to “tension”. He went to an Anglican school but identifies with the Catholic church. “He argues Christian teachings align with Liberal party values,” Bramston wrote.
In Melbourne on Tuesday, Albanese joined those attending an early morning mass at St Patrick’s Cathedral. In Sydney Dutton went to St Mary’s. Then they both shifted back into campaign mode, for Tuesday night’s debate.
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.
Anthony Albanese and Peter Dutton have met for the third leaders’ debate of this election campaign, this time on the Nine network. And while the debate traversed much of the same ground as the first two, the quick-fire set up of the debate allowed for some more animated exchanges less than two weeks from election day.
Three expert authors give their analysis of how the two leaders performed.
Tonight’s leaders’ debate was a marked improvement on the appalling spectacle Nine hosted three years ago. Anthony Albanese and Peter Dutton had clearly taken advantage of the reduced campaign activity in recent days to prepare themselves for this contest.
The problem? There was nothing new worth saying. Viewers were treated instead to the greatest hits of an election campaign that has so far not been especially great. Dutton once again paid homage to Howard and Costello’s liberalism (read: “I’m not Trump”), while Albanese repeated his hardly seamless mantra: “no-one held back and no-one left behind” (read: “I’m not Dutton”).
For all of the lofty soundbites, the debate hinged on pedantry. The semantic argument from the first debate about the 2014 budget and health and education spending came up again. (Were there cuts, or did these “line items” simply not grow as fast as promised?)
Both leaders repeated banal explanations about why they were best placed to deal with the Trump White House. There was plenty of tired campaign rhetoric about looming recessions and “talking Australia down”. Even an exchange from last week between Albanese and the ABC’s moderator David Speers seemed to be repeated tonight: why isn’t the government’s energy relief for households means-tested?
At times, this debate was self-indulgent on the part of Nine Entertainment. Ally Langdon (who opened the debate by welcoming “a bit of theatre”) routinely cast her own judgement, condemning Albanese and Dutton for merely “patching cracks” and not proving their “fiscal responsibility” sufficiently.
Interestingly, media policy was one of the few things on which the two leaders could agree. Nine’s political editor Charles Croucher asked the leaders to state their attitude toward the News Media Bargaining Code, which prompts global tech giants to pay Australian news providers for access to their content. Both leaders tripped over themselves to assure the panel they were on a “unity ticket” to protect local media companies (including Nine Entertainment) from being “cannibalised” by multinational tech giants. (Of course, a fair playing field for local media providers is clearly in the national interest.)
This was Dutton’s best debate showing so far. That’s hardly a win. The prime minister managed to reel off a list of his government’s more popular policies, subtly compare his compassionate approach to leadership with Dutton’s darker obsession with order and the threat of disorder, and remind people of the opposition leader’s history of unpopular statements and policies. A modest win for Albanese, if not grounds for inspiration.
Coinciding with the first day of early voting, the third leaders’ debate was more like a game of speed chess – with 60 seconds for leaders’ answers, and 30 seconds for rebuttals. The result was too often a word salad.
While voters may be feeling debate fatigue — and little wonder with a fourth showdown looming on Channel 7 on Sunday — this one could have mattered. With about half of Australians casting their votes early, these televised match-ups represent a potential last chance to shape opinions before May 3.
Instead, questions often focused on personal qualities: trust and lies, and less on policy – poorly serving viewers as answers became a tit-for-tat affair. The countdown of the clock only re-enforced leaders’ rehearsed answers to well-worn topics of cost of living, energy prices, Medicare bulk billing rates, immigration, housing crisis and tax cuts, barely exposing key policy differences for undecided voters. Even their matching blue suits and pale ties made them look less like opponents and more like political twins.
Dutton seemed more assured than Albanese from the start.
Typically, campaign messages get more negative as we move closer to polling day. Studies have shown fear campaigns can “work”, but they can also turn off voters, particularly women. So, unsurprisingly, Dutton’s emphasis was on law and order framed in the language of fear, promising to “keep people safe in their home and communities […] in very uncertain times”. He also promised to cut migration, couched as bringing down housing prices.
The former policeman seeking to be prime minister kept with the law and order theme to sway voters offering a $A750 million package to stamp out illegal drugs and tobacco.
In a similar vein, the Labor leader Anthony Albanese used every chance he had to pivot questions back to Labor’s policy home ground advantage: health, education (free TAFE and reduced HECS debt) and low-cost childcare.
Asked by journalist Deborah Knight if he was “too soft” as a leader, Albanese strove to offer voters hope over fear, replying: “kindness isn’t weakness […] we raise our children to be compassionate”, arguing he can still hold firm when dealing with autocratic leaders to protect Australia’s national interest.
As Dutton listed his top legislative priorities if elected, promising a 25% fuel levy tax, Albanese scored a zinger, pointing out that that policy expires in a year, chortling “you better do it quickly before it disappears”. Overall, it was a flat event, lacking atmosphere and detailed information.
The “Great Debate”, as it was called by the broadcaster, started on a solemn tone as both leaders mourned the passing of Pope Francis. The format of the debate was geared towards a quick-fire approach. Time limits of one minute per response to questions ensured the debate covered a lot of ground. Policies from cost of living to international affairs were discussed.
The leaders played their roles effectively. Opposition Leader Peter Dutton demonstrated a laser-like focus on critiquing the government, while highlighting the Coalition’s policies. Prime Minister Anthony Albanese defended the track record of his government while also taking opportunities to criticise the previous Morrison government. Both leaders stayed true to advancing the core messages of their campaign.
Cost of living was central to the debate and provided ample opportunity for Dutton and Albanese to put forward their views on the measures they believe would address the issues. Energy policy, and the divide between nuclear and renewable energy sources, also emerged. There was also a moment of unity as both leaders took pride that Australia had implemented a social media ban for under-16s.
After the only break of the night, the host gave both leaders the opportunity to spell out the values that underpinned their policy approach. Dutton focused on restating policy goals, such as a reduction in fuel excise. Albanese returned to “no one left behind, but no one held back” as his key message, a concept he had also mentioned in his victory speech in 2022.
On the whole, and considering the stakes, the debate was a model of civility. Both leaders presented as being in command of the details regarding their policies. Gaffes about figures, costings, and promises were virtually non-existent. Whether it added anything new about the leaders or their policy platforms, however, is debatable.
Joshua Black is a Postdoctoral Research Fellow at The Australia Institute.
Andrea Carson and Zareh Ghazarian 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.
Opposition Leader Peter Dutton will promise a Coalition government would boost Australia’s spending on defence to 2.5% of GDP within five years and 3% within a decade.
Launching the Coalition’s long-awaited defence policy on Wednesday in Western Australia, Dutton will commit to investing more than $21 billion to take spending to 2.5%.
Australia’s current defence spending is about 2% of GDP, and due to rise to 2.3% by 2033-34. The Trump administration has flagged it wants allies to raise their spending to 3%.
Trump’s under-secretary of defence for policy, Elbridge Colby, has said:
The main concern the United States should press with Australia […] is higher defence spending. Australia is currently well below the 3% level advocated for by NATO Secretary General Rutte, and Canberra faces a far more powerful challenge in China.
The opposition statement, from Dutton and shadow Defence Minister Andrew Hastie, does not go into detail about how the bigger allocation would be spent, or how it would be paid for.
Defence Minister Richard Marles gave notice of Labor’s line of attack if there is no detail provided. He said on Tuesday:
It won’t cut it to have vague numbers, to have aspirations, to have signposts in the future. There needs to be a great deal of specificity in respect of what that defence policy looks like.
In its statement, the opposition accuses Labor of overseeing “more than $80 billion in cuts and delays to defence in just three years, degrading morale and capability, and putting Australia at risk”.
It says the commitment to 2.5% is “significantly higher than under Labor and demonstrates the Coalition’s commitment to keeping Australia safe in uncertain times”.
Under Labor, defence spending has stayed static at 2% of GDP for three years – and Labor has walked away from its own target of increasing defence spending to 2.4% of GDP by 2033-34, dropping it instead to ‘over 2.3%’.
In its most recent budget, Labor delivered no new funding for defence.
In stark contrast, a Dutton Coalition government will increase defence spending to 3% of GDP within a decade, while Labor’s spend plateaus at around 2.3%.
The opposition says Australia is facing the most complex and serious strategic circumstances since the second world war.
The rise of authoritarian powers, and conflict in Europe and the Middle East are a reminder that Australia cannot take peace for granted.
“Under the Coalition, there will be clarity around the risks we face and a strategy to deter them,” the opposition says.
“We believe that investing in Defence is an investment in peace – which is maintained through a strong army, navy, air force and enhanced cyber security.”
This week’s statement follows an earlier Coalition commitment to reinstate the fourth squadron of F-35A Joint Strike Fighters.
Dutton said: “The Prime Minister and the Deputy Prime Minister regularly tell Australians that we live in the most precarious period since the end of the second world war. Yet, over the last three years, Labor has done nothing about it, other than rip money out of Defence, weakening strength and morale.”
Hastie said: “A Dutton Coalition government will back Australian workers and businesses in defence industry to develop the sovereign capabilities our country needs. They are a critical enabler to the Australian men and women in uniform”.
Hastie has been little seen on the campaign trail.
Marles said over the last three years the government had engaged “in the biggest peacetime increase in defence spending that Australia has seen”.
“We’ll continue to look at what the appropriate levels of defence spending are.
“Increases in defence spending will happen under this government […] because that is, in fact, what we’ve done over the last three years”.
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.
Over the past few years, support for Welsh independence has grown in ways not seen before. A recent poll commissioned by YesCymru, a pro-independence campaign group, found that 41% of people who’ve made up their minds on the issue would now vote in favour of independence.
The striking finding is that the number jumps to 72% among 25-to-34 year olds. Meanwhile older generations, particularly those aged 65 and up, remain firmly in the “no” camp, with 80% opposed.
This does seem a big shift in public mood. But does it mean Wales is becoming more nationalist? Not exactly.
The relationship between constitutional attitudes and nationalism is complicated, as research by myself and colleagues shows. Many people back independence for reasons that have less to do with feeling strongly Welsh or waving flags, and more to do with wanting better decision-making closer to home.
During 2021, as part of a broader research project on Welsh people’s views on the COVID pandemic and vaccination, we spoke to people from different ages, backgrounds and locations. Some were vaccinated, others weren’t. Some had voted in elections while others hadn’t voted in years, if ever.
Many people we talked to felt the Welsh government had done a better job than Westminster at handling the pandemic. They saw the decisions made in Wales – like keeping stricter rules in place when England relaxed theirs – as more sensible, more caring, and more in line with what they personally wanted from a government. And with that came a confidence that Wales could handle even more control over its own affairs.
Historically, Welsh nationalism was tightly linked to the Welsh language and culture. Self-government was always a part of the conversation, but not necessarily the main driver. That started changing in the late 20th century.
In 1979, Wales voted against devolution. In 1997, it narrowly voted in favour. After that, things slowly began to shift. And now, more than 25 years into devolution, support for some form of self-government is the mainstream view. Independence is no longer such a fringe idea.
Interestingly, younger generations are far more open to it – and many of them aren’t what you’d typically think of as nationalists. They may not speak Welsh or see themselves as “political” in the traditional sense. Their support often comes from practical concerns about the economy, democracy and how decisions are made.
External events like Brexit have clearly played a role. In fact, the YesCymru campaign was formed just before the EU referendum in 2016. Independence support surged afterwards, especially among Remain voters.
Many saw the Brexit fallout, as well as austerity, as proof that Westminster didn’t reflect their values or priorities. This showed how disruptive events can reshape the way people see their place within the UK.
Independence without nationalism?
One of the more surprising findings in our research – echoed in the 2025 polling – is that support for independence doesn’t always come from people who are politically engaged or pro-devolution. In fact, some support came from people who hadn’t voted in years, or felt completely disillusioned with the political system.
They expressed their support for independence through statements like: “They [the Welsh government] all need to go, but if I pay tax in Wales I want it to stay in Wales and be spent here.”
We also found a lot of people sitting on the fence. They weren’t against independence, but they had big questions about it. Would it mean isolation? Would it lead to more division?
One person told us: “I’m a little bit nationalistic, but I didn’t want the UK to leave the EU. So why would I want Wales to leave the UK?” Another said: “I don’t believe in borders, but I do think the Welsh government should run things.”
These aren’t black-and-white views. People’s feelings about independence – and nationalism – are often full of contradictions. And this reflects the wider truth that ordinary political views are often messy. Most of us don’t live in the extremes, and this is a good thing.
What’s also worth noting is that nationalism takes many forms. Some people who strongly oppose Welsh independence do so from a very rightwing populist-nationalist perspective, where calls to abolish the Senedd (Welsh parliament) sit alongside demands for hard borders and less immigration. So, the assumption that “independence equals nationalism” isn’t always true – and nor is the reverse.
Could independence really happen?
Wales isn’t alone in debating big questions about its future. In places such as Scotland, Catalonia and Flanders, political and economic crises can fuel movements for independence. In all these cases, trust in central government and a desire for more local fiscal control have played a major role.
For Wales, the question often comes back to the economy. While faith in Wales’s ability to govern is growing, many still worry whether an independent Wales could stand on its own financially. And for a lot of undecided voters, that remains the sticking point. For this reason, granting Wales more powers through devolution might do more to stave off demands for independence than anything else.
But the conversation is shifting. Support for independence is no longer just about nationalist grievances. It’s about how people want to be governed, and about trust and responsiveness.
So, does supporting Welsh independence make you a nationalist? Not necessarily. For many, it’s not about nationalism at all.
Robin Mann receives funding from the Economic and Social Research Council and the British Academy. He is a Reader in Sociology at Bangor University and also Co-director of the Wales Institute of Social and Economic Research and Data (WISERD).
A Des Moines Water Works employee takes samples from a nearby river for analysis. The regional water utility delivers drinking water to more than 500,000 Iowans.AP Photo/Charlie Neibergall
Before Congress passed the Clean Water Act in 1972, U.S. factories and cities could pipe their pollution directly into waterways. Rivers, including the Potomac in Washington, smelled of raw sewage and contained toxic chemicals. Ohio’s Cuyahoga River was so contaminated, its oil slicks erupted in flames.
That unchecked pollution didn’t just harm the rivers and their ecosystems; it harmed the humans who relied on their water.
The Clean Water Act established a federal framework “to restore and maintain the chemical, physical, and biological integrity of the Nation’s waters.”
As an attorney and law professor, I’ve spent my career upholding these protections and teaching students about their legal and historical significance. That’s why I’m deeply concerned about the federal government’s new efforts to roll back those safeguards and the impact they’ll have on human lives.
A fire of an oil slick on the Cuyahoga River swept through docks at the Great Lakes Towing Company site in Cleveland in 1952, one of several times that pollution in the river caught fire. Bettman/Getty Images
Amid all the changes out of Washington, it can be easy to lose sight of not only which environmental policies and regulations are being rolled back, but also of who is affected. The reality is that communities already facing pollution and failing infrastructure can become even more vulnerable when federal protections are stripped away. Those laws are ultimately meant to protect the quality of the tap water people drink and the rivers they fish in, and in the long-term health of their neighborhoods.
A few of the most pressing concerns in my view include the government’s moves to narrow federal water protections, pause water infrastructure investments and retreat from environmental enforcement.
Diminishing protection for US wetlands
In 2023, the Supreme Court narrowed the definition of “waters of the United States.” In its decision in Sackett vs. Environmental Protection Agency, the court determined that only wetlands that maintained a physical surface connection to other federally protected waters qualified for protection under the Clean Water Act.
Wetlands are important for water quality in many areas. They naturally filter pollution from water, reduce flooding in communities and help ensure that millions of Americans enjoy cleaner drinking water. The Clean Water Act limits what industries and farms can discharge or dump into those waterways considered “waters of the U.S.” However, mapping by the Natural Resources Defense Council found that upward of 84%, or 70 million acres, of the nation’s wetlands lacked protection after the ruling.
The Sackett ruling also called into question the definition of “waters of the U.S.”
The Trump EPA, in announcing its plans to rewrite the definition in 2025, said it would make accelerating economic opportunity a priority by reducing “red tape” and costs for businesses. Statements from the administration suggest that officials want to loosen restrictions on industries discharging pollution and construction debris into wetlands.
Toxic algae blooms fueled by farm, urban and industrial runoff can trigger fish kills and shut down beaches for days, harming tourism businesses. Joe Raedle/Getty Images
This marks a shift away from the federal government protecting wetlands for the role they play in public health and resilience. Instead, it prioritizes development and industry – even if that means more pollution.
Pausing investment for rebuilding crumbling infrastructure
Public water systems across the country have been falling into disrepair in recent decades due to aging and sometimes dangerous infrastructure, as cities with lead water pipes have discovered.
The American Society of Civil Engineers gave the nation’s drinking water, stormwater and wastewater infrastructure grades of a C-minus, D and D-plus, respectively, in its 2025 Infrastructure Report Card. The group estimates that America’s drinking water systems alone need more than $625 billion in investment over the next 20 years to reach a state of good repair.
Jackson, Miss., volunteers distributed bottled water to residents in 2022 after the aging water system failed. AP Photo/Steve Helber
Congress passed the Infrastructure Law and the Inflation Reduction Act to help pay for updating drinking water, wastewater and stormwater systems. That included replacing lead pipes and tackling water contamination, especially in the most vulnerable communities. Many of the same communities also have high poverty and unemployment rates and histories of racial segregation rooted in government discrimination.
These aren’t abstract problems; they’re happening right now, in real communities, to real people.
Dropping lawsuits meant to stop pollution
The Trump administration’s decision to drop from some environmental enforcement lawsuits filed by previous administrations is adding to the risks that communities face.
The administration argues that these decisions are about reducing regulatory burdens – dropping these lawsuits reduces costs for companies.
However, stepping back from these lawsuits leaves the communities without a meaningful way to put an end to the long-standing harms of environmental pollution. Few communities have the resources to litigate against private polluters and must rely on regulatory agencies to sue on their behalf.
Real lives are affected by these changes
What America is seeing now is more than a change in regulatory approach. It’s a step back from decades of progress that made the nation’s water safer and communities healthier.
President Donald Trump talked repeatedly on the campaign trail about wanting clean air and clean water. However, the administration’s moves to reduce protection for wetlands, freeze infrastructure investments and abandon environmental enforcement can have real consequences for both.
At a time when so many systems are already under strain, it raises the question: What kind of commitment is the federal government really making to the future of clean water in America?
Jeremy Orr works for Michigan State University College of Law and Earthjustice.
What happens when politicians post false or toxic messages online? My team and I found evidence that suggests U.S. state legislators can increase or decrease their public visibility by sharing unverified claims or using uncivil language during times of high political tension. This raises questions about how social media platforms shape public opinion and, intentionally or not, reward certain behaviors.
I’m a computational social scientist, and my team builds tools to study political communication on social media. In our latest study we looked at what types of messages made U.S. state legislators stand out online during 2020 and 2021 – a time marked by the pandemic, the 2020 election and the Jan. 6 Capitol riot. We focused on two types of harmful content: low-credibility information and uncivil language such as insults or extreme statements. We measured their impact based on how widely a post was liked, shared or commented on on Facebook and X, at the time Twitter.
Our study found that this harmful content is linked to increased visibility for posters. However, the effects vary. For example, Republican legislators who posted low-credibility information were more likely to receive greater online attention, a pattern not observed among Democrats. In contrast, posting uncivil content generally reduced visibility, particularly for lawmakers at ideological extremes.
Why it matters
Social media platforms such as Facebook and X have become one of the main stages for political debate and persuasion. Politicians use them to reach voters, promote their agendas, rally supporters and attack rivals. But some of their posts get far more attention than others.
When platforms reward harmful content with increased visibility, politicians have an incentive to post such messages, because increased visibility can lead directly to greater media attention and potentially more voter support. Our findings raise concerns that platform algorithms may unintentionally reward divisive or misleading behavior.
Political misinformation has burgeoned in recent years.
When harmful content becomes a winning strategy for politicians to stand out, it can distort public debates, deepen polarization and make it harder for voters to find trustworthy information.
How we did our work
We gathered nearly 4 million tweets and half a million Facebook posts from over 6,500 U.S. state legislators during 2020 and 2021. We used machine learning techniques to determine causal relationships between content and visibility.
The techniques allowed us to compare posts that were similar in almost every aspect except that one had harmful content and the other didn’t. By measuring the difference in how widely those posts were seen or shared, we could estimate how much visibility was gained or lost due solely to that harmful content.
What other research is being done
Most research on harmful content has focused on national figures or social media influencers. Our study instead examined state legislators, who significantly shape state-level laws on issues such as education, health and public safety but typically receive less media coverage and fact-checking.
State legislators often escape broad scrutiny, which creates opportunities for misinformation and toxic content to spread unchecked. This makes their online activities especially important to understand.
What’s next
We plan on conducting ongoing analyses to determine whether the patterns we found during the intense years of 2020 and 2021 persist over time. Do platforms and audiences continue rewarding low-credibility information, or is that effect temporary?
We also plan to examine how changes in moderation policies such as X’s shift to less oversight or Facebook’s end of human fact-checking affect what gets seen and shared. Finally, we want to better understand how people react to harmful posts: Are they liking them, sharing them in outrage, or trying to correct them?
Building on our current findings, this line of research can help shape smarter platform design, more effective digital literacy efforts and stronger protections for healthy political conversation.
The Research Brief is a short take on interesting academic work.
Yu-Ru Lin receives funding from external funding agencies such as the National Science Foundation (NSF).
Source: The Conversation – USA – By Jay Rickabaugh, Assistant Professor of Public Administration, North Carolina State University
Last year was a record year for disasters in the United States. A new report from the British charity International Institute for Environment and Development finds that 90 disasters were declared nationwide in 2024, from wildfires in California to Hurricane Helene in North Carolina.
The average number of annual disasters in the U.S. is about 55.
The Federal Emergency Management Agency provides funding and recovery assistance to states after disasters. President Donald Trump criticized the agency in January 2025 when he visited hurricane-stricken western North Carolina. Though 41% of Americans lived in an area affected by disaster in 2024, according to the institute’s report, the Trump administration is reportedly working to abolish or dramatically diminish FEMA’s operations.
But I believe the current discussion about FEMA handling U.S. disasters puts the emphasis in the wrong place.
As a scholar who researches how small and rural local governments cooperate, I believe this public debate demonstrates that many people fundamentally misunderstand how disaster recovery actually works, especially in rural areas, where locally directed efforts are particularly key to that recovery.
I know this from personal experience, too: I am a resident of Watauga County, in western North Carolina, and I evacuated during Hurricane Helene after landslides severely impaired the roads around my home.
When disaster strikes
Here, in short, is what happens after a disaster.
Federal legislation from 1988 called the Stafford Act gives governors the power to declare disasters. If the president agrees and also declares the region a disaster, that puts federal programs and activities in motion.
Yet local officials are generally involved from the very start of this process. Governors usually seek input from state and local emergency managers and other municipal officials before making a disaster declaration, and it is local officials who begin the disaster response.
That’s because small and rural local governments actually have the most local knowledge to lead recovery efforts in their area after a disaster.
Local officials determine conditions on the ground, coordinate search and rescue, and help bring utilities and other infrastructure back online. They have relationships with community members that can inform decision-making. For example, a county senior center will know which residents receive Meals on Wheels and might need a wellness check after disaster.
However, small towns cannot do all this alone. They need FEMA’s money and resources, and that can present a problem. The process of applying and complying with the requirements of the grants is incredibly complex and burdensome. According to FEMA’s website, there are eight phases in the disaster aid process, composed of 28 steps that range from “preliminary damage assesment” to “recovery scoping video” to “compliance reviews” and “reconciliation.” Getting through these eight phases takes years.
Larger cities and counties frequently have dedicated staff that apply for disaster aid and ensure compliance with regulations. But smaller governments can struggle to apply for and administer state or federal grants on their own – especially after a disaster, when demands are so high.
That’s where regional intergovernmental organizations come in. Every region has its own name for these entities. They’re often called councils of government, regional planning commissions or area development districts. My colleagues and I call them RIGOs, for their initials.
What is a RIGO?
No matter the name, RIGOs are collaborative bodies that allow local governments to cooperate for services and programs they might not otherwise be able to afford. Bringing together local elected officials from usually about three to five counties, RIGOs help local officials cooperate to address the shared needs of everyone in their area. They do this in normal times; they also do this when disasters strike.
RIGOs operate throughout most of the U.S., in big cities and rural areas, in turbulent times and in calm. They serve different needs in different regions, but in all cases, RIGOs bring together local elected officials to solve common problems.
One example of this in western North Carolina is the Digital Seniors project, launched during COVID-19. Here, the local RIGO is called the Southwestern Commission. In 2021, the RIGO area agency on aging coordinated with the Fontana Regional Library to help dozens of elders who had never been connected to the internet get online during the pandemic. The Southwestern Commission used its relationships with the local senior centers to identify people who needed the service, and the library had access to hot spots and laptops through a grant from the state of North Carolina.
In rural areas, RIGOs work alongside regional business and nonprofits to allow local governments to offer regular services and programs they might not otherwise be able to afford, such as public transportation, senior citizen services or economic development.
Part of that work is helping member governments navigate the maze of federal and state funding opportunities for the projects they hope to get done, often by employing a specialized grant administrator. Each small local government may not have enough work or revenue to justify such a staff member, but many together have the workload and funding to hire someone specially trained to abide by the rules of funding from states and the federal government.
This system helps small local governments receive their fair share in federal grant money and report back on how the money was spent.
Transparency, technical compliance and action
Disasters rarely respect borders. That’s why governments generally work together to distribute grant money for rebuilding communities.
Similarly, after disastrous flooding hit Vermont in 2023 and 2024, another RIGO, the Central Vermont Regional Planning Commission, jumped into action. It quickly provided emergency communication to the 23 small villages and towns in its region and has since supported local governments applying for grants and reimbursements.
Rebuilding after a disaster is a long, arduous process. It begins after national journalists and politicians have left the area and continues for years. That would be true no matter how Trump restructures emergency aid: The damage is massive, and so is the repair.
For example, here’s how western North Carolina looks six months after Helene: Most businesses have reopened, most folks have running water again, and people can drive in and out of the area.
But many roads are still full of broken pavement. Mud from landslides presses up against the sides of the highway, and condemned housing teeters on the edge of ravaged creek beds.
It is, in other words, too soon to see the full impact of local government efforts to rebuild my region. But RIGOs across the region are hiring additional temporary staff to help local governments get federal money and comply with complex guidelines. Their support ensures that decisions affecting North Carolinians are voted on by the city and county leaders they elected – not decreed by governors or handed down from Washington, D.C.
Locally led rebuilding is slow and difficult work, yes. But it is, in my opinion, the most community-responsive way to deal with disaster.
Jaylen Peacox, a graduate student in public administration at North Carolina State University, contributed to this story.
Jay Rickabaugh receives grant funding from the National Science Foundation. Any opinions, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of the National Science Foundation.
