This week the corporate regulator is taking on executives and directors of Star Entertainment in the Federal Court, in a landmark case for Australian corporate governance.
ASIC will allege that despite multiple red flags that should have prompted internal investigation, directors at Star sat on their hands while accepting the considerable perks of the office.
Historically, ASIC has not been willing to go after apparently lax directors and executives and there are questions about its effectiveness as a regulator. Will this time be different?
What is Star accused of?
The case against Star Entertainment, like so many others, boils down to “acting with reasonable care and diligence” in respect of risk management. Did Star’s board and executives sufficiently focus on the well-known risks of money-laundering and criminal association in the operation of its casinos in Sydney and Queensland?
ASIC will seek to show that they did not. It is suing several former directors and executives, including the former chief executive, in a case expected to last six weeks. The defendants deny they breached their duties.
Warnings were ‘ignored’
In the first days of hearings, ASIC told the court the board had been given evidence of money-laundering risks from high-rollers with ties to criminal organisations, but that those warnings were ignored.
The court was told the board and executives were “incurious and complacent” about alleged criminal activity and money-laundering, with wads of cash delivered in a blue Esky and in paper bags to a private gambling room.
If the allegations are proven, it won’t be just the shareholders who have suffered. Anti-money-laundering laws exist because criminals need to clean their ill-gotten gains, or make them appear legitimate. While not alleged in this instance, in general, money-laundering enables crimes such as scams, fraud, child exploitation and drug/sex trafficking. There are many victims throughout society.
The issues at Star were uncovered by journalists in 2021. This was the catalyst for the NSW Independent Casino Commission to set up a review by Adam Bell SC. On August 31 2022, Bell handed down his findings into The Star casino’s suitability to hold a casino licence in NSW in a 946-page report.
Two months later, the NSW commission announced it had suspended Star’s licence indefinitely, fined the casino $100 million, and appointed an independent manager.
Share price tanked
Since 2021, the share price for Star Entertainment Group has collapsed from $3.76 to 13 cents today, wiping billions in market value.
It is true that Star Entertainment has been hurt by factors other than the financial allegations identified by Bell. But the collapse in revenue suggests the casino operator’s business model was inherently reliant on money-laundering. Strip that out, and what remains is a business that will likely not survive without a white knight.
To what extent can the directors be blamed for these failures? Based on the defences used during the Bell inquiry, they may claim they were not involved in the complex, day-to-day management of operations. Executives failed to inform them of risk-management issues. But are these adequate excuses?
For this sort of money, shareholders might reasonably expect some tough questions would be asked, especially given the red flags that came to light. The internal audit team or external independent advisers could have been charged with further investigating issues of concern.
Putting directors on notice
Unfortunately, the scandal at Star Entertainment is not an isolated case of risk-governance failure. A royal commission found the directors of Crown Casino also failed properly to manage the risks of money-laundering.
The financial crime regulator, Austrac, has identified similar failures at the Commonwealth Bank of Australia, Westpac and Adelaide’s Sky City casino. Turning to cyber risk, it is clear that firms such as Medibank and Latitude Financial have failed to protect sensitive customer data.
While most of the above listed companies have been fined by regulators, the consequences for individual directors have been limited or non-existent. And herein lies the problem – lack of accountability breeds inattention, indolence and recklessness.
Where is the incentive for directors to ask those tough questions of the executive, to rock the boat on a nice cosy board? The reputation of ASIC as an ineffective corporate regulator has not served either shareholders or the Australian public well.
That is why the outcome of this case is so important. A win would put directors on notice that risk governance is a serious matter and they need to do more to earn their substantial fees.
Elizabeth Sheedy is on the advisory board of the Financial Integrity Hub and was previously on the board of the Australian Compliance Institute. In the past she has received research funding from financial institutions that have been accused of money-laundering, and from the Australian Compliance Institute.
Stan’s new series Invisible Boys follows four young gay men as they understand and explore their identities while living in Geraldton, a regional town in Western Australia.
Charlie Roth (Joseph Zada), Zeke Calogero (Aydan Clafiore), Kade “Hammer” Hammersmith (Zach Blampied) and Matt Jones (Joe Klocek) represent four very different young men. Yet they share the experience of feeling invisible because of their sexuality.
An adaptation of Holden Sheppard’s novel of the same name, the story challenges linear narratives of progress and typical ideals of queer life. It also shows how such mentalities can lead gay and bisexual men growing up in regional Australia to feel invisible, as they often don’t fit the neat narratives associated with “progress”.
Invisible Boys is an example of what my colleague Whitney Monaghan and I have termed a queer storyworld, which centres LGBTQIA+ stories, communities and issues in complex and nuanced ways.
Australian teen drama found international success in the 1990s. Series such as Heartbreak High (1994–99) and Sweat (1996) included underrepresented stories of cultural diversity and diverse sexuality, and were promoted with reference to their “gritty” themes.
The terms “gritty” and “real” have become key markers of the Aussie teen drama. Journalist Grace Back notes how Heartbreak High’s appeal lay in its characters having to “grapple with gritty issues”.
Similarly, Janine Kelly from the Australian Children’s Television Foundation describes More Than This (2022) as a “real, gritty and powerful series [that] reflects the diversity of the suburban Australian public-school environment.”
The trailer for Invisible Boys features a review describing the show as “powerful, topical and all too real”, placing it alongside the bold teen dramas that have come before.
But I’d argue no previous teen drama has been quite as truthful in its representation of some young gay and bisexual men’s experiences.
Sexual desire in the gay teen narrative
Invisible Boys is set in 2017, against the backdrop of the highly visible and divisive same-sex marriage survey.
The show examines how gay teen sex manifests in environments that often aren’t very visible. In the first five minutes, we see 17-year-old Charlie attempting to have sex at a beat – a public space where gay men seek anonymous sexual intimacy.
Later, an inciting incident occurs when Charlie uses an app to arrange a sexual encounter with an older married man in his home, before being caught by his wife.
Joseph Zada plays Charlie, a young gay man living in Geraldton. Stan
Invisible Boys examines how the sexual desires of gay and bisexual men do not hibernate in the face of oppression.
Research shows some older gay adolescents (under 18) seek out and have positive experiences of sex with older men. That these experiences exist means they should have a place in teen dramas, to examine and drive important conversations.
Queer as Folk (1999–2000) faced criticism for its underage sex storyline from the broader public and the LGBTQIA+ community alike, wherein the series opens with 15-year-old Nathan (Charlie Hunnam) seeking and finding a sexual partner on the gay scene in Manchester.
However, this story was based in something real: the oppressive Section 28 laws in England that made it illegal for gay and bisexual men under 18 to explore their sexuality. This drove them to spaces where they could remain anonymous.
Invisible Boys tackles the reality of gay and bisexual life in a regional town. Other teen series in other markets, such as Heartstopper (2022–), present a somewhat normative view of queer teen life under banners of “love is love”. And while this story is true for some, it has been told.
Invisible Boys gives audiences something that will challenge their worldview. Stan
Challenging gay respectability politics
Respectability politics is the view that “marginalised groups must demonstrate that they adhere to normative values before they will be accepted or granted rights by dominant groups”. We see this in the dominance of homonormative representation in Australian TV, which sees heterosexual norms being applied to LGBTQIA+ people – as well as in its exclusion of gay sex.
Invisible Boys challenges the dominance of gay respectability politics in the teen drama genre.
While older Australian series such as Dance Academy (2010–13) (admittedly aimed at younger teen audiences) explored queer sexuality through chaste kisses and teen angst, primetime series such as Please Like Me (2013–16) and In Our Blood (2022) made headway by telling complex, intimate stories of gay men.
Similarly, the horny gay teen isn’t hidden away in Invisible Boys – nor are his choices always comfortable.
A sign for streamers and Australian TV
Streaming services have often struggled to nail Australia’s television sensibility. Netflix’s Tidelands (2018) was criticised for not quite capturing what made Australian series appealing, while Stan’s Eden (2021) was met with similar critiques.
More recently, Prime Video’s Deadloch (2023–) and the Netflix reboot of Heartbreak High (2022–24) have signalled a shift to something more suited to local viewers.
Yet the creators of Heartbreak High made certain decisions that stood out to local viewers, such as not including school uniforms (likely to appeal to a global audience). Invisible Boys does not dilute the specificity of regional Aussie experiences.
The series challenges the way gay adolescence is often understood by broader communities. Stan
In the tradition of iconic teen dramas from 1970s and 1990s, such as Class of ‘74 (1974–75), the original Heartbreak High (1994–99), and Sweat (1996), the series is willing to go there by tackling the inconvenient truths of teenage life.
As someone who grew up gay in regional Australia, it feels like an authentic representation of my own experience. There’s something universal about Charlie, Zeke, Kade and Matt’s stories of not fitting in, and of being invisible to be safe.
Most striking is the way the series captures the complicated mix of joy and fear – the clash of opportunity and consequence – that accompanies becoming visibly gay in these environments.
Invisible Boys is streaming on Stan.
Damien O’Meara 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.
Crocodiles are hardy creatures, capable of adjusting their behaviour to cope with the heat of the tropics. But there’s a limit to their endurance.
Our new research shows the average body temperature of estuarine (saltwater) crocodiles in Far North Queensland has risen steadily over the past 15 years. The peaks align with heatwaves during El Niño events.
We tagged and tracked 203 crocodiles in the Steve Irwin Wildlife Reserve on Cape York Peninsula, to find out how they respond to rising temperatures. We know from our previous research that crocodiles can change their behaviour to quickly cool down, and might do this by diving deeper, seeking shade or hauling themselves out onto the riverbank at night.
We found hot crocodiles displayed more of these cooling behaviours, but this was not always enough to keep their body temperature under control. Crocodile diving performance decreased at body temperatures above 31–33°C. This could compromise other behaviours necessary for feeding, fleeing or reproducing.
Crocodile researchers gathered around a trap site by the Wenlock River, Queensland. Australia Zoo
How do crocs keep cool?
Crocodiles, like other reptiles, are “ectotherms”. This means their bodies heat up or cool down depending on the temperature of the surrounding environment.
They can’t control or adjust their own internal thermostat like birds or mammals. Instead, they regulate their body temperature by moving to a more comfortable place.
On hot nights the water stays warm, but the air cools down. So crocodiles will move onto the river bank at night to cool off. We call this “nocturnal basking”.
During the day, they might dive down really deep where it’s a bit cooler. Or they might lie on the bank in the shade with their mouth gaping wide, or sit in a cool freshwater creek.
Last year, we published research using data from thumb-sized temperature loggers implanted under the crocodile’s skin. By tracking when their body temperatures rose or fell rapidly, we were able to record “active cooling” and “active warming” periods during the day and night.
Active warming tended to occur on winter afternoons, and was likely achieved through basking in the sun on riverbanks and sand flats.
Active cooling was more common on hot summer nights. We think the crocodiles were either taking advantage of cool night air through nocturnal basking, or spending time in shady spots along the river.
But there’s a limit to how much warming crocodiles can take. Previous research has shown crocodiles have shorter dives at body temperatures above 32-33°C. This can reduce their ability to hunt for food or seek shelter.
How will crocs cope with climate change?
In our new research, we wanted to find out if crocodiles can reduce their exposure to high temperatures through active cooling behaviour.
With the help of Australia Zoo’s croc team, we tagged and tracked 203 wild estuarine crocodiles in the Wenlock and Ducie rivers of the Steve Irwin Wildlife Reserve, between 2008 and 2023.
During this time, the average air temperature in Far North Queensland rose by 0.08–0.30°C. Top temperatures peaked during El Niño events (2010 and 2016), whereas minimum temperatures peaked during La Niña events (2020–23).
We collected data on crocodile body temperature, daily distance travelled and diving behaviour. Then we compared it to local air temperatures.
We found body temperatures increased alongside rising air temperatures and peaked during El Niños such as the summer of 2015–16.
Almost all crocodiles spent time cooling during heatwaves. The hottest crocodiles switched almost exclusively to cooling behaviours, rather than warming behaviours. But in many cases their body temperatures still exceeded 32–34°C and their diving performance suffered.
Even when summer air temperatures rocketed to 40°C, crocodiles were able to limit their body temperature to 34°C. This feat demonstrates impressive resilience to heat.
Crocodile researchers on the Wenlock River, Queensland. Australia Zoo
What’s next for Queensland’s crocs?
While most estuarine crocodiles in Queensland are found in the north of the state, the occasional vagrant makes its way south below its natural range into more populated areas.
The crocodile population has grown since hunting was banned in 1974. So it is reasonable to wonder about the possibility of a southern expansion as warming continues. But there is currently no evidence to suggest Queensland’s crocodile population is moving south, or that this will become a concern in the near future with a warming climate.
Our new research shows crocodiles in the tropics are responding to higher temperatures. However, very little is known about how crocodiles in the southern, cooler part of their range behave in response to these conditions. This information could help to more effectively manage crocodiles and protect the general public.
Crocodiles are remarkably resilient predators that have evolved to survive in tropical conditions. Our research suggests they have the capacity to buffer themselves against the worst of the heat our current climate throws at them, without leaving their local river system.
Kaitlin Barham receives funding from the Australian Research Council. The Holsworth Wildlife Research Endowment – Equity Trustees Charitable Foundation & the Ecological Society of Australia funded travel to the field site for this research. She is affiliated with The University of Queensland.
Craig E. Franklin receives funding from the Australian Research Council and Wildlife Warriors. He is affiliated with The University of Queensland.
Ross Dwyer has been funded by grants from the Australian Research Council and the Queensland government for crocodile research in wild and captive environments. He is affiliated with The University of the Sunshine Coast.
Statistics tell us Indigenous children are 11 times more likely to be removed by child protection systems than non-Indigenous children. Indigenous babies aged under one are at greatest risk.
But beyond the data, what do parents tell us about this experience?
Our recent study reviewed all the studies available about child protection processes in the perinatal period (during pregnancy and the year following birth) in Australia and across the world.
We looked at parents’ experiences across the board, with a special interest in whether First Nations families had been included in existing research.
Families that interact with child protection systems often already face multiple and complex forms of adversity. This can include poverty, homelessness, racism, intergenerational trauma, family violence, disability, mental illness, substance use and incarceration.
The perinatal period offers a unique window for early intervention and family support to reduce the risk of removal.
This could involve greater help accessing suitable housing and addressing family violence, and enhancing access to health care that is culturally safe and trauma-informed, before and after birth.
What we found
Our systematic review examined 24 studies about child protection services becoming involved with families during pregnancy and the first year after birth. This included research from Australia, the United Kingdom, Canada, the United States, New Zealand and Sweden.
We looked at what parents told researchers about their experiences and found striking similarities, regardless of where they lived.
Globally, there were comparatively few studies including First Nations families. But both Indigenous and non-Indigenous parents reported punitive processes that had an enduring impact on the health and wellbeing of the parent and family.
They also agreed that early, transparent, compassionate and culturally appropriate support was required to address their needs. These included legal support to understand court processes, as well as being able to access health care without fear it could lead to removal.
Four themes emerged from these lived experiences. Here, we’ve included the voices of Aboriginal mothers who participated in a 2023 Australian study to illustrate the importance of these issues to Indigenous families.
1. A lack of support before and after removal
Parents often found the birth of their babies life-changing. However many believed child protection services didn’t adequately understand their experience or inform and support them at this time.
Mothers felt confused and overwhelmed, experiencing symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder and enduring grief following the removal of their babies.
There is no support… I think they should help towards improving family and helping family before taking a child away. It should be the absolute last option.
You have to do what they want; they control everything… who you hang out with, what you do […] There is no fixing the family… What they say goes or they take your kids.
3. Feeling powerless in the system
Many mothers had been in care themselves. They felt unfairly punished, because it was assumed they would not be capable parents due to past and present trauma.
First-time parents felt especially powerless to prove their parenting capacity.
We had got secure accommodation with family. […] We weren’t doing any drugs; we were on the methadone… we had a caseworker…
They led us to believe we’re keeping her… [then] they handed me a piece of paper and said, “We’re taking your baby”. I was in shock… I felt like I was ambushed.
Parents with complex health issues also felt judged according to negative stereotypes and traditional, white, middle-class standards.
Some parents lost welfare entitlements and housing because babies had been removed, compounding their difficulties.
In Australia, current Indigenous-led research and the work of Aboriginal state, territory, and national children’s commissioners is critical to guiding the development of support for families to stay together and thrive.
Parents and researchers are united about the immediate need for child protection systems to:
provide early and sustained family-centred support during pregnancy and beyond
address families’ practical and material needs, including poverty and homelessness
train professionals to reduce power imbalances and build trusted relationships
offer trauma-informed and culturally matched support services
provide immediate and ongoing mental health support if babies are removed.
Renna (a co-author on this article and also a proud Walbunja woman from the Yuin Nation, academic and social worker) reflects on the removal of her baby not long before the apology.
Eighteen years later, I know we will never feel whole, left with empty arms, a life stolen, the shadow festers and grows.
Special thanks to our review co-authors Melissa O’Donnell, Lisa Wood, Colleen Fisher and Renée Usher, our expert advisory group, the Stan Perron Charitable Foundation and the original participants and researchers whose primary studies made our review and this article possible.
*Names have been changed for privacy.
If this article has raised issues for you, or if you’re concerned about someone you know, call Lifeline on 13 11 14. 13YARN is a free and confidential 24/7 national crisis support line for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people who are feeling overwhelmed or having difficulty coping. Call 13 92 76.
Sam Burrow receives a PhD scholarship from the Stan Perron Charitable Foundation.
Renna Gayde is affiliated with SAFeST start coalition, a stream of the Replanting the Birthing Trees Project.
When we think of Valentine’s Day, chubby Cupids, hearts and roses generally come to mind, not industrial processes like mass production and the division of labor. Yet the latter were essential to the holiday’s history.
As a historian researching material culture and emotions, I’m aware of the important role the exchange of manufactured greeting cards played in the 19th-century version of Valentine’s Day.
At the beginning of that century, Britons produced most of their valentines by hand. By the 1850s, however, manufactured cards had replaced those previously made by individuals at home. By the 1860s, more than 1 million cards were in circulation in London alone.
The British journalist and playwright Andrew Halliday was fascinated by these cards, especially one popular card that featured a lady and gentleman walking arm-in-arm up a pathway toward a church.
Halliday recalled watching in fascination as “the windows of small booksellers and stationers” filled with “highly-coloured” valentines, and contemplating “how and where” they “originated.” “Who draws the pictures?” he wondered. “Who writes the poetry?”
In 1864 he decided to find out.
Manufactured intimacy
Today Halliday is most often remembered for his writing on London beggars in a groundbreaking 1864 social survey, “London Labour and the London Poor.” However, throughout the 1860s he was a regular contributor to Charles Dickens’ popular journal “All the Year Round,” in which he entertained readers with essays addressing various facets of ordinary British daily existence, including family relations, travel, public services and popular entertainments.
In one essay for that journal – “Cupid’s Manufactory,” which was later reprinted in 1866 in the collection “Everyday Papers” – Halliday led his readers on a guided tour of one of London’s foremost card manufacturers.
Inside the premises of “Cupid and Co.,” they followed a “valentine step by step” from a “plain sheet of paper” to “that neat white box in which it is packed, with others of its kind, to be sent out to the trade.”
Touring ‘Cupid’s Manufactory’
“Cupid and Co.” was most likely the firm of Joseph Mansell, a lace-paper and stationary company that manufactured large numbers of valentines between the 1840s and 1860s – and also just happened to occupy the same address as “Mr. Cupid’s” in London’s Red Lion Square.
The processes Halliday described, however, were common to many British card manufacturers in the 1860s, and exemplified many industrial practices first introduced during the late 18th century, including the subdivision of tasks and the employment of women and child laborers.
Halliday moved through the rooms of “Cupid’s Manufactory,” describing the variety of processes by which various styles of cards were made for a range of different people and price points.
He noted how the card with the lady and gentleman on the path to the church began as a simple stamped card, in black and white – identical to one preserved today in the collections of the London Museum – priced at one penny.
A portion of these cards, however, then went on to a room where a group of young women were arranged along a bench, each with a different color of “liquid water-colour at her elbow.” Using stencils, one painted the “pale brown” pathway, then handed it to the woman next to her, who painted the “gentleman’s blue coat,” who then handed it to the next, who painted the “salmon-coloured church,” and so forth. It was much like a similar group of female workers depicted making valentines in the “Illustrated London News” in the 1870s.
These colored cards, Halliday noted, would be sold for “sixpence to half-a-crown.” A portion of these, however, were then sent on to another room, where another group of young women glued on feathers, lace-paper, bits of silk or velvet, or even gold leaf, creating even more ornate cards sometimes sold for 5 shillings and above.
All told, Halliday witnessed “about sixty hands” – mostly young women, but also “men and boys,” who worked 10 hours a day in every season of the year, making cards for Valentine’s Day.
Yet, it was on the top floor of the business that Halliday encountered the people who arguably fascinated him the most: the six artists who designed all the cards, and the poets who provided their text – most of whom actually worked offsite.
Here were the men responsible for manufacturing the actual sentiments the cards conveyed – and in the mid-19th century these encompassed a far wider range of emotions than the cards produced by Hallmark and others in the 21st century.
A spectrum of ‘manufactured emotions’
Many Victorians mailed cards not only to those with whom they were in love, but also to those they disliked or wished to mock or abuse. A whole subgenre of cards existed to belittle the members of certain trades, like tailors or draper’s assistants, or people who dressed out of fashion.
Cards were specifically designed for discouraging suitors and for poking fun of the old or the unattractive. While some of these cards likely were exchanged as jokes between friends, the consensus among scholars is that many were absolutely intended to be sent as cruel insults.
Furthermore, unlike in the present day, in the 19th century those who received a Valentine were expected to send one in return, which meant there were also cards to discourage future attentions, recommend patience, express thanks, proclaim mutual admiration, or affirm love’s effusions.
Halliday noted the poet employed by “Cupid’s” had recently finished the text for a mean-spirited comic valentine featuring a gentleman admiring himself in a mirror:
Looking at thyself within the glass,
You appear lost in admiration;
You deceive yourself, and think, alas!
You are a wonder of creation.
This same author, however, had earlier completed the opposite kind of text for the card Halliday had previously highlighted, featuring the “lady and gentleman churchward-bound”:
“The path before me gladly would I trace,
With one who’s dearest to my constant heart,
To yonder church, the holy sacred place,
Where I my vows of Love would fain impart;
And in sweet wedlock’s bonds unite with thee,
Oh, then, how blest my life would ever be!”
These were very different texts by the very same man. And Halliday assured his readers “Cupid’s laureate” had authored many others in every imaginable style and sentiment, all year long, for “twopence a line.”
Halliday showed how a stranger was manufacturing expressions of emotions for the use of other strangers who paid money for them. In fact, he assured his readers that in the lead up to Valentine’s Day “Cupid’s” was “turning out two hundred and fifty pounds’ worth of valentines a week,” and that his business was “yearly on the increase.”
Halliday found this dynamic – the process of mass producing cards for profit to help people express their authentic emotions – both fascinating and bizarre. It was a practice he thought seemed like it ought to be “beneath the dignity of the age.”
And yet it thrived among the earnest Victorians, and it thrives still. Indeed, it remains a core feature of the modern holiday of Valentine’s Day.
This year, like in so many others, I will stand at a display of greeting cards, with many other strangers, as we all try to find that one card designed by someone else, mass-produced for profit, that will convey our sincere personal feelings for our friends and loved ones.
Christopher Ferguson 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 (Au and NZ) – By Pandanus Petter, Postdoctoral Research Fellow, School of Politics and International Relations, Australian National University
The upcoming federal election will see the incumbent Labor prime minister, Anthony Albanese, face off against Liberal opposition leader, Peter Dutton. We’ll likely see a strong focus on the personal qualities and performance of the two leaders.
We tend to think a popular leader can win an election for their party while an unpopular one can lose it. Much of the commentary on the Coalition’s 2022 election loss, for example, centred on the widespread dislike of Scott Morrison.
But how much do party leaders actually affect their party’s vote share, and ultimately, the outcome of an election? We looked at 40 years of opinion polling to find out.
Our research
Opinion polls in Australia have been conducted since the 1940s, but it was not until the 1980s that they began to regularly ask questions about leader satisfaction and voting intention. In recent decades, the proliferation of polls has seen a greater consistency in question wording and protocols.
We have been analysing the polling data on government popularity and responsiveness in Australia. This enables us to track and compare leaders over an extended period.
We’ve crunched the numbers on voter intention and leader satisfaction from September 1985 until December 2024.
We can cross-reference these statistics to show which prime ministers and opposition leaders were a net benefit to their party (more popular than their party overall) and which were a net drag (less popular than their party).
Prime ministers: who helped and who hindered?
By this measure, the prime minister who provided the most electoral benefit to their party was Kevin Rudd between 2007 and 2010.
Rudd achieved some of the highest levels of voter satisfaction recorded since the early Bob Hawke years, averaging 60% satisfaction, a 14-point net benefit for his party.
His popularity declined considerably just before his replacement by Julia Gillard in 2010, and never fully recovered when he became prime minister again in 2013.
John Howard ranks second, with Morrison and Albanese (so far) sharing third place in terms of satisfaction. However, there’s a larger difference between Albanese’s personal popularity and his party’s vote intention.
Morrison’s tenure in office was skewed by the COVID pandemic, which saw a “rally around the flag” effect, seeing a spike in voters’ trust in government.
Paul Keating comes at the bottom of the list. His personal popularity trailed his party’s by eight percentage points on average, with an upset victory in 1993 not enough to win over the public to defeat a resurgent Howard in 1996.
Similiarly, Tony Abbott, although party leader when the Coalition returned to power after the Rudd-Gillard-Rudd years, was consistently less popular than his party – by seven points in opposition and four as prime minister.
What about opposition leaders?
Among opposition leaders, Rudd again tops the list. He was more popular than Labor overall in the year prior to winning the election in December 2007, peaking at 65.5% satisfaction.
The opposition leader who represents the greatest drag on their party was Andrew Peacock in the late 1980s, in what was his second incarnation as Liberal leader.
Overall, prime ministers have a greater impact on their party’s fortunes than opposition leaders. This is expected as incumbency has advantages, with prime ministers usually given more opportunity for media attention, greater recognition with the public, and hopefully a record of achievements in government to point to.
Prime ministers register a net gain to their party of about four percentage points, compared with minus three points for opposition leaders.
Labor leaders show a net gain to their party of two points, compared to minus four points for their Liberal counterparts.
The personalisation of politics
Since at least the 1970s, political leaders have attracted increasing attention in democratic elections around the world.
This trend has not been restricted to countries with presidential systems, such as the United States. It’s also playing out in parliamentary systems such as Australia’s and the United Kingdom’s. This is despite the fact voters elect local members to parliament, rather than voting for the prime minister directly.
This profound shift in democratic politics has been based on several social changes.
First, the rise of television, and more recently social media, has provided the visual images that direct voters’ attention towards the leader.
While television’s heyday has passed – in both the 2019 and 2022 elections, the Australian Election Study surveys show more people followed the election on the internet than on television – visual images of the leaders dominate the media, both traditional and social.
Second, party de-alignment has seen voters moving away from their traditional party loyalties, with the personalities of the leaders filling this gap.
In the 1960s, around one in ten voters said they did not identify with a party, compared with one in four in the 2022 election.
Third, the unprecedented expansion in university education has produced critical voters who are more volatile in their voting than any groups in the past.
One factor that can sway their vote is policies, but another is the leader they find most competent.
What does this mean for the next election?
For Australian voters, leaders matter, rightly or wrongly, for evaluating the performance of a government and choosing which party to vote for.
As we close in on an election in 2025, voters will be looking to Albanese and Dutton. In the chart below, we can see that while on average Dutton has been only marginally beneficial for his party compared with Albanese, this gap has narrowed in the latter half of 2024.
Although Albanese started at a historically very strong position, it appears his popularity began to decline in May 2023. The defeat of the Voice to Parliament Referendum in November sped up the decline.
Dutton received a short-term boost after the result, after which his popularity declined and then has steadily built over time. Current projections indicate the next election will likely be close-run.
It also appears the two current leaders, whatever their other merits, have fallen short of the levels reached by the most popular prime ministers and opposition leaders of the past.
Albanese’s early popularity has waned, while the Coalition and Dutton’s fortunes rise in step with one another.
This reflects a return to a normal vote share for the party after their loss in 2022. While it may prove problematic for the government, it doesn’t necessarily indicate a meteoric increase in Dutton’s personal popularity.
Pandanus Petter is employed at the Australian National University with funding from The Australian Research Council.
Ian McAllister receives funding from the Australian Research Council.
Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Michael Jensen, Associate professor, Institute for Governance and Policy Analysis, University of Canberra, University of Canberra
Hate speech on X was consistently 50% higher for at least eight months after tech billionaire Elon Musk bought the social media platform, new research has found.
The research looked at the prevalence of overt hate speech including a wide range of racist, homophobic and transphobic slurs.
The study, published today in PLOS ONE, was conducted by a team of researchers led by Daniel Hickney from the University of California, Berkeley.
On October 27 2022, Musk officially purchased X (then known as Twitter) for US$44 billion and became its CEO. His takeover was accompanied by promises to reduce hate speech on the platform and tackle bots and other inauthentic accounts.
But after he bought X, Musk made several changes to the platform to reduce content moderation. For example, in November 2022 he fired much of the company’s full time workforce. He also fired outsourced content moderators who tracked abuse on X, despite research showing social medial platforms with high levels of content moderation contain less hate speech.
This new study is the first to show that this wasn’t an anomaly.
Hate speech including homophobic, racist and transphobic slurs was significantly higher on X after Elon Musk bought the platform. The black lines represent standard errors. Hickey et al., 2025 / PLOS One
More than 4 million posts
The study examined 4.7 million English language posts on X from the beginning of 2022 through to June 9 2023. This period includes the ten months before Musk bought X and the eight months afterwards.
The study measured overt hate speech, the meaning of which was clear to anyone who saw it – speech attacking identity groups or using toxic language. It did not measure covert types of hate speech, such as coded language used by some extremist groups to spread hate but plausibly deny doing so.
As well as measuring the amount of hate speech on X, the study also measured how much other users engaged with this material by liking it.
The researchers’ access to X data was cut off during the study due to a policy change by the platform, replacing free access to approved academic researchers with payment options which are generally unaffordable. This significantly hampered their ability to collect sample posts. But they don’t mention whether it affected their results.
A clear increase in hate
The study found “a clear increase” in the average number of posts containing hate speech following Musk’s purchase of X. Specifically, the volume of posts containing hate speech was “consistently” 50% higher after Musk took over X compared to beforehand – a jump from an estimated average of 2,179 to 3,246 posts containing hate speech per week.
Transphobic slurs saw the highest increase, rising from an average of roughly 115 posts per week before Musk’s acquisition to an average of 418 afterwards.
The level of user engagement with posts containing hate speech also increased under Musk’s watch. For example, the weekly rate at which hate speech content was liked by users jumped by 70%.
The researchers say these results suggest either hate speech wasn’t taken down, hateful users became more active, the platform’s algorithm unintentionally promoted hate speech to users who like such content – or a combination of these possibilities.
The study also detected no decrease in the activity of inauthentic accounts on X. In fact, it found a “potential increase” in the number of bot accounts partly based on a large upswing in posts promoting cryptocurrency, which are typically associated with bots.
An important data-driving deep dive
There were a number of limitations to the study. For example, it only measured hate speech posts in English, which accounts for only 31% of posts on the platform.
Even so, the study is an important, data-driven deep dive into the state of X. It shows it is a platform where hate speech is prolific. It also shows Musk has failed to fulfil his earlier promises to address problems on X such as hate speech and bot activity.
As Musk himself said at the White House earlier this week: “Some of the things I say will be incorrect and should be corrected”.
Michael Jensen receives funding from the Australian Research Council, Bayer, and the Australian Department of Defence Science and Technology Group.
An artist’s impression of a high-energy particle travelling through the KM3NeT neutrino telescope.KM3NeT
Three and a half kilometres beneath the Mediterranean Sea, around 80km off the coast of Sicily, lies half of a very unusual telescope called KM3NeT.
The enormous device is still under construction, but today the telescope’s scientific team announced they have already detected a particle from outer space with a staggering amount of energy.
In fact, as the team report in Nature, they found the most energetic neutrino anyone has ever seen – and it represents a tremendous leap forward in exploring the uncharted waters of the extreme universe.
To explain why it’s such a remarkable discovery, we need to understand what KM3NeT is, what it’s looking for, and what it saw.
What is KM3NeT?
KM3NeT is a gigantic deep sea telescope being built by an international collaboration of more than 300 scientists and engineers from 21 countries.
At the site off Sicily, and another off the coast of Provence in France, KM3NeT will be made up of more than 6,000 light detectors hanging in the pitch-black depths. When the telescope is complete, it will cover about a cubic kilometre of sea.
The KM3NeT telescope will eventually have more than 6,000 detectors like this one floating in the depths of the Mediterranean watching for tell-tale flashed of blue light. N Busser / CNRS
Down deep, KM3NeT is shielded from ordinary sources of light, such as the Sun. It is also shielded from other particles like electrons and protons, which are absorbed by the water long before they reach the detectors. So what does it see?
What is KM3NeT looking for?
Of all the particles that physicists have discovered, only the elusive neutrino can reach all the way down to KM3NeT.
The neutrino is an elementary particle with no electric charge and only a very tiny mass. It interacts with matter so weakly that it can pass through kilometres of ocean – and even thousands of kilometres of Earth itself – to reach the detector. That’s why KM3NeT is at the bottom of the sea: to see neutrinos, and only neutrinos.
But won’t the neutrinos pass through the detector, too? Yes, almost all of them.
When a high-energy particle passes through KM3NeT, the detectors register the tell-tale blue flashes and allow scientists to figure out how fast the particle was going and where it came from. KM3NeT
But very rarely, a neutrino will crash right into a water molecule. When it does, it can pack an enormous punch.
The energy of the neutrino can create many more particles. As these particles blast through the water, they create a bluish glow. That’s what KM3NeT detectors see.
By analysing this bluish light, and by timing each flash, scientists can reconstruct the original energy of the neutrino, and the direction from which it came. (Either that, or they’ve just clocked one of those deep-sea glowing fish travelling at nearly the speed of light.)
The most energetic neutrino ever detected
On February 13 2023, KM3NeT detected a neutrino travelling so fast it had 30 times more energy than any previously detected.
The amount of energy is 220 petaelectronvolts, but that doesn’t mean much to a non-particle physicist. It’s hard to imagine, but let’s try.
The neutrino had 100 trillion times more energy than a typical particle at the centre of the Sun. It’s a trillion times more energy than medical X-rays, and ten billion times more than the most dangerous radioactive particles. Earth’s biggest particle accelerators can’t produce a particle with even one ten thousandth of this energy.
Short story: it’s a lot of energy for one particle.
Making neutrinos in space
Neutrinos interact with matter very weakly, so how could a single neutrino have been given so much energy? What sort of cosmic event could create such a particle?
That’s the exciting part: we don’t know.
We know there are colossal explosions in the universe, such as supernovas: when a star exhausts its fuel and collapses. And there are gamma ray bursts, which are even more energetic explosions of supermassive stars, or collisions of neutron stars. These create extremely energetic neutrinos.
But there are other candidates. Supermassive black holes at the centre of galaxies have millions to billions of times as much mass as the Sun.
As matter is swallowed by these black holes, it is accelerated to extreme speeds, and becomes wrapped around intense magnetic fields. The particles that aren’t swallowed can be shot out at extreme speeds. These “active galactic nuclei” are another way that the universe could create extreme neutrinos.
Third, the neutrinos could be created more locally (cosmically speaking). Explosions and active galactic nuclei also create cosmic rays: extremely energetic protons and electrons.
These could stream across the universe towards us, before colliding with a particle of light along the way. That collision can create an energetic neutrino.
How can we find the source?
Here’s where the Australian connection comes in. KM3NeT tells us this neutrino came from a particular spot in the southern sky.
If it came from an extreme explosion or an active galactic nucleus, we might hope to spot the source with other telescopes. In particular, both supernova remnants and active galactic nuclei can be spotted using radio waves.
Australia has the biggest radio telescopes in the southern hemisphere. The Australian Square Kilometre Array Pathfinder (ASKAP) has mapped a lot of the southern sky, and found many supernova remnants and active galactic nuclei.
My colleagues and I at Western Sydney University are using ASKAP to follow up on KM3NeT detections like this one. For this particular neutrino, there are no obvious candidates in the radio sky that it came from.
However, KM3NeT doesn’t provide a very accurate position, so we can’t be completely sure. We’ll keep looking.
KM3NeT is still under construction, and ASKAP continues to survey the sky. Our window on the extreme universe is just opening up.
Luke Barnes 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.
Anti-immigrant sentiment has profoundly reshaped Germany’s political landscape. It is connected to the surge of the far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD), as well as the rightward shift of the Christian Democrats and Liberals, and the social democrat SPD under current chancellor Olaf Scholz.
Even the Greens and the Left party were internally conflicted on the matter, ultimately leading the anti-immigration BSW to split off from the Left.
At the centre of the debate is the notion of “welfare magnetism”. This is the idea that migrants are drawn to Germany by its generous welfare system. Actors like the AfD and Christian Democratic chancellorship-hopeful Friedrich Merz refer to it more pointedly as “Sozialtourismus” – welfare tourism.
Welfare magnetism: what does the evidence say?
For decades, politicians in Germany have suspected welfare as a “pull factor” for migrants, especially those living in poverty. Parties have proposed and implemented the same solution again and again: welfare exclusions. In 2006 and 2016, EU migrant citizens were excluded from two major social assistance schemes for their first five years in Germany.
Aside from normalising anti-immigrant sentiment, this achieved very little. In a major research project on the interplay between migration and social policy that ran from 2019 to 2024, we could find no evidence that introducing these exclusions led to declining migrant numbers.
Even researchers promoting the idea struggle to produce convincing evidence. Their findings are often limited to hyper-specific scenarios, such as migration between border towns of two US states.
While immigration economist George Borjas claims that “differences in welfare benefits generate strong magnetic effects” he himself calls the empirical evidence “relatively weak”, and notes that “there may well be alternative stories that explain the evidence”.
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In one study, researchers claimed to find “some of the first causal evidence on the welfare magnet hypothesis” in Denmark. Yet they analysed a case in which many of the immigrants in question were also excluded from the labour market and where their belongings were (partially) confiscated upon entering the country.
Under these circumstances, the researchers found that radically cutting welfare benefits by up to 50% could lead asylum seekers – who were migrating either way – to choose a different country of destination. As the researchers point out, “most newly arrived refugees have very limited job opportunities and therefore no alternative to welfare benefits”.
A major driving force of international migration is conflict. If refugees fleeing war are given no alternative option of sustaining a living than receiving benefits – and if these benefits are then cut – the refugees in question may seek asylum elsewhere. This, however, has little to do with a “pull effect” and is a far cry from anything that could be considered welfare tourism.
When confronted with the research, centrist politicians argue that regardless of how big a threat welfare magnetism actually is, people are afraid of it. To beat the far right, politicians feel obliged to copy their arguments.
But research shows this approach does not work. By copying the far right, mainstream parties normalise instead of weakening the fringes. Far-right parties will always be able to make more extreme demands than the mainstream – there is no point in trying to beat them on their own turf.
Policies that link migration and welfare can also make situations in already struggling areas worse. In our forthcoming research, we identified such problems in Germany.
In Nordstadt, a deprived neighbourhood in Dortmund, many migrants face poor living conditions as economic disadvantages overlap with welfare exclusions. Many cannot afford proper housing and healthcare, and have to accept exploitative working conditions.
Social assistance could provide help, yet excluding migrants from federally funded welfare schemes means that municipalities are largely left to deal with these challenges.
Working with the far right
Despite the lack of evidence for welfare tourism, the current political trajectory suggests that anti-immigrant sentiment will thrive further in Germany. Recent acts of violence by asylum seekers, including a fatal stabbing in Aschaffenburg, led the far-right AfD – accompanied by mainstream parties – to immediately push for restrictive immigration policy reforms.
In a watershed moment for German politics, the Christian Democrats subsequently broke with a postwar taboo, voting with the AfD in favour of border closures and similar measures. Merz was harshly criticised for cooperating with the AfD, and his immigration bill ultimately failed.
But, notably, hardly any party openly opposed his anti-immigration positions as such. The dispute was primarily about his cooperation with the AfD and less about disagreement over policy substance.
This was evident in the first televised debate between Scholz and Merz, where competition over who was tougher on migrants took up a significant portion of the run time.
Rarely have German elections seen a list of lead candidates so unequivocally united in characterising migrants as a threat. However, political tides may shift. Some of these candidates will unavoidably lose – and, perhaps, parties will shift gear once in opposition or government responsibility.
Dominic Afscharian has previously received funding from the German Federal Ministry of Labour and Social Affairs under the FIS research grant. This article has followed from the associated project “Freedom of Movement and Social Policy in Historical and International Comparison (FuS)”. He currently works for the Zentrum für neue Sozialpolitik in Berlin, Germany, which was not involved in the genesis of this article.
Martin Seeleib-Kaiser has previously received funding from the German Federal Ministry of Labour and Social Affairs under the FIS research grant. This article has followed from the associated project “Freedom of Movement and Social Policy in Historical and International Comparison (FuS)”.
Prime Minister Christopher Luxon wants New Zealand to “go for growth”.
But his plan, focused on reforming foreign investment, planning and competition laws, as well as boosting the tourism and mining sectors, is hampered by a fundamental reality of New Zealand’s economy: much of the country’s capital is tied up in unproductive (and expensive) housing.
While this issue is not new, with New Zealand’s economy once described as “a housing market with bits tacked on”, the solution may lie in making housing more readily available through deregulation and policy reform. This would free up capital for drivers of growth such as infrastructure and business investment.
Household capital allocation March, 2021. Data source: RBNZ Household Balance Sheet. Author provided
The temptation of housing
Rapidly growing house prices over the past two decades have provided strong incentives to direct investment to the housing market.
On average, the price of a typical house has grown by around 8% per year, far outpacing household income growth. For example, in 2005 the median house price was roughly five times the average household income. By the middle of the pandemic house values had ballooned to nine times the average income.
Soaring prices have made residential investment extremely profitable for a long time. This means savings and investments have tended to flow into residential property rather than other productive sectors of the economy.
Constraints on housing supply
The problem is that in recent decades additional residential investment has not led to a substantial increase in new homes.
Local and central government rules and regulations have long hampered the construction of new houses. Instead, more investment in real estate has generally led to even higher prices.
As concerning as this is, it does not mean investments in housing have been misplaced. Rather, high prices and profits are what the market required in order to encourage those willing to build (few that there are) despite the costs, delays and uncertainties associated with bureaucratic battles with councils, planners and local NIMBY groups.
Banning property speculation might have kept prices down and reallocated investment to other productive uses. But in the absence of those speculators, the supply constraints would not have been any looser. Lower prices mean lower returns over building costs, leading to even fewer houses built.
Shifting capital out of the housing market in this way would not have benefited the country – we might have produced more and goods and services but fewer homes in which to live.
Christopher Luxon is pushing forward his plan for growth focused on reforming foreign investment, planning and competition laws, as well as boosting the tourism and mining sectors. Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images
Reforming housing supply
Fortunately, New Zealand has made meaningful progress on housing supply recently. For example, Auckland and Lower Hutt changed zoning laws in the 2010s making it easier to build, and Wellington City has recently followed suit.
These changes have led to local construction booms and, crucially, lower house prices and rents.
These reforms make it easier to build, reduce house prices and mean less investment capital is required for each new house built. So these policies have the dual benefit of improving housing affordability and freeing up capital for other productive sectors of the economy.
As prices come down, New Zealanders will no longer need to pour nine times their income into a home.
That will free up funds for investments in new bridges and tunnels, small businesses, and exciting new startups that will help drive innovation and generate the long-run growth we seek.
New Zealand need not give up its housing dreams in order to get business moving. Rather, it can do both.
All that requires is for local and central government to continue to let people build the housing they want so that we can free up the capital our infrastructure and businesses need.
James Graham has received research funding from the Australian Housing and Urban Research Institute and is a member of Sydney YIMBY.
To address this, retrofit programs that improve home energy efficiency have become one of Canada’s main strategies to cut emissions in the housing sector. These programs focus on upgrades like air sealing, enhanced insulation, upgrading heating and cooling systems and installing energy-efficient windows and doors.
But do these programs deliver on their promises of lower bills and reduced carbon emissions? Our recent study, forthcoming in Energy Economics, examined the outcomes of the federal ecoENERGY home retrofit program, a predecessor to the Greener Homes Initiative.
Our findings shed light on where the program succeeded, where it fell short and what this all means for Canadian families and policymakers moving forward.
Real-world energy savings
Our study analyzed a decade of monthly electricity and natural gas consumption data from Medicine Hat, Alta., where residents participated in the federal ecoENERGY retrofit program that was in place between 2008 to 2012.
We found that households undertaking comprehensive envelope retrofits — which includes insulation and air sealing — reduced their total energy use by an average of 25 per cent per household. Natural gas usage dropped by 35 per cent on average for these same households, and these savings lasted for at least 10 years after the retrofit.
However, our study found that homes achieved only about 60 per cent of the predicted savings projected in pre-retrofit estimates. While measures like air sealing and attic and wall insulation were relatively effective, other upgrades, such as basement insulation and energy-efficient windows, showed zero effect on energy use.
This gap between projected and actual savings suggests that the estimates shown to households during pre-retrofit audits might be overestimating the benefits. This could leave families with lower-than-expected savings on their energy bills after making significant financial investments. These findings align with similar studies in the United States and Europe, where realized energy savings hover at around 60 per cent of pre-retrofit projections.
Despite this gap, there are promising opportunities for low-cost, high-return investments. Our research suggests that relatively cheap measures like air sealing generate high returns. Adopting electric heat pumps and fuel switching also show promise for delivering both energy savings and reductions in greenhouse gas emissions.
The need for broader participation
Our study also revealed significant gaps in program access and the distribution of benefits. Although the ecoENERGY program was available to all Canadian households, participation was highest among families of mid-valued houses.
Participation among families in lower-valued houses was disappointingly low: about four per cent of the families in lowest-valued houses took part, even though they stood to benefit the most from reduced energy bills. Homes in our study saw bill savings ranging from eight to 17 per cent, based on a comparison of their actual consumption before and after the retrofit. The highest savings were observed in homes with assessed values of $100,000.
Middle-valued homes with the highest retrofit program participant rate tended to save the least amount of money; this group had average gas bill reductions of approximately 10.5 per cent.
The maximum amount that could be claimed under the ecoENERGY program was $5,000, yet the average rebate received was $1,100. This disparity not only limited the program’s potential to reduce emissions on a large scale, but also means Canada’s current approach to energy retrofits may be missing an opportunity to improve energy affordability for those who need it most.
Room for improvement
Energy-saving retrofits have significant potential, but current prediction models often overestimate the savings homeowners can achieve. Improving these models could allow homeowners to make better-informed choices, leading to greater efficiency and improved household welfare.
Upfront costs also remain a significant barrier, particularly for lower-income families. Many cannot afford the upfront expenses associated with retrofitting their homes. Expanded financial support, such as rebates or no-interest loans, may provide much-needed support necessary to allow more households to participate, and more research is needed to evaluate how best to incentivize household participation.
Another major challenge is a lack of awareness. Many Canadians are unaware of the benefits of deep retrofits. Public awareness campaigns, possibly delivered in collaboration with community organizations, may also help educate homeowners on the long-term value of retrofits and make the process more accessible and appealing.
Our project is the first in Canada to use detailed household-level data to assess energy savings from retrofits in houses of various values. We were able to achieve this through partnerships between academia, utilities and the federal government. Such collaborations are crucial for advancing research that informs effective policies and programs.
As Canada advances toward net-zero emissions by 2050, energy-efficient housing should remain central to its climate strategy. Achieving sustainable progress in this area will require retrofit programs that deliver on their promises by enhancing household welfare, addressing energy affordability and ensuring continued public support.
Maya Papineau receives funding from Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council and the National Science and Engineering Research Council and the National Research Council of Canada.
Nicholas Rivers receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council and the National Science and Engineering Research Council. He is affiliated with the Canadian Climate Institute.
Kareman Yassin 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.
United States Vice President JD Vance made headlines this week by refusing to sign a declaration at a global summit in Paris on artificial intelligence.
In his first appearance on the world stage, Vance made clear that the U.S. wouldn’t be playing ball. The Donald Trump administration believes that “excessive regulation of the AI sector could kill a transformative industry just as it’s taking off,” he said. “We’ll make every effort to encourage pro-growth AI policies.”
But upon a closer look, events this week point to signs that just the opposite may be unfolding. A host of nations took notable steps towards address growing safety and environmental concerns about AI, indicating that a regulatory tipping point has been reached.
Prime Minister Justin Trudeau delivered the keynote address at the AI Action Summit in Paris, France.
The Paris communiqué calls for an “inclusive approach” to AI, seeking to “narrow inequalities” in AI capabilities among countries. It encourages “avoiding market concentration” and affirms the need for openness and transparency in building and sharing technology and expertise.
The document is not binding. It does little more than tout principles, or affirm a collective sentiment among the parties. One of these — perhaps the most important — is to keep talking, meeting and working together on the common concerns that AI raises.
While nothing is binding on the parties, the goals are notably specific. They include coming up with standards for measuring AI’s environmental impact and more effective ways for companies to report on the impact. Parties also aim to “optimize algorithms to reduce computational complexity and minimize data usage.”
Even if most of this turns out to be merely aspirational, it’s important that the coalition offers a platform for collaboration on these initiatives. At the very least, it signals a likelihood that sustainability will be at the forefront of debate about AI moving forward.
The convention commits parties to pass domestic laws on AI that deal with privacy, bias and discrimination, safety, transparency and environmental sustainability.
The treaty has been criticized for containing no more than “broad affirmations” and imposing few clear obligations. But it does show that countries are committed to passing law to ensure that AI development unfolds within boundaries — and they’re eager to see more countries do the same.
If Canada were to ratify the treaty, Parliament would likely revive Bill C-27, which contained the AI and Data Act.
The act aimed to do much of what Canada agrees to do under the convention: impose greater oversight of the development and use of AI. This includes transparency and disclosure requirements on AI companies, and stiff penalties for failure to comply.
What does this really mean?
While the U.S. signed the convention on AI and human rights, democracy and rule of law in the fall of 2024, it likely won’t be implemented by a Republican Congress. The same might happen in Canada under a Conservative government led by Pierre Poilievre. He could also decide not to fulfil commitments made under other agreements about AI.
The Trump administration may have ushered in a period of more lax tech regulation in the U.S., and Silicon Valley is indeed a key player in tech — especially AI. But it’s a wide world, with many other important players in this space, including China, Europe and Canada.
The events in Paris have revealed a strong interest among nations around the globe to regulate AI, and specifically to foster ideas about inclusion and sustainability. If the Paris summit was any indication, the hope of sheltering AI from effective regulation won’t last long.
Robert Diab 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 David Benoit, Senior Lecturer in Molecular Physics and Astrochemistry, University of Hull
A detector on the seabed near Toulon, France, has spotted a high energy neutrino.ivan bastien/Shutterestock
Recent research on lightweight particles called neutrinos might have passed you by – much like the more than 10 trillion neutrinos passing through your body each second. Now, our new paper – with 21 countries, more than 60 institutes and around 360 scientists contributing – reports the observation of the most energetic neutrino yet.
Despite the enormous number of neutrinos around us, this is one of the most exciting – and rarest – astronomical events of the year. Our paper has been published in the journal Nature.
Neutrinos are tiny elementary (sub-atomic) particles that are abundant in our universe. Yet, you probably haven’t seen any. They do not interact with other matter in the ways we are familiar with.
Their lack of charge, for example, means that the electrostatic force that governs most of our everyday experiences does not interact with them at all. And their vanishingly small mass means that gravity – the other major force we experience – also has no effect on them in lab conditions on Earth.
So, detecting their presence is challenging to say the least.
They are formed through the actions of the weak nuclear force, which governs radioactive decay. It is this force that enables positively charged particles called protons, which make up to atomic nucleus, to change into neutrons, neutrally charged particles which also exist in the atomic nucleus, and vice versa.
We cannot detect a neutrino directly. But, every now and then (although very rarely), they might bump into something. When that happens, through the action of this weak nuclear force, a charged particle, such as an electron, may be created – seemingly out of nowhere – that we can detect.
Those charged particles travel at enormous speeds. And when they move through a medium such as water, they create an eerie, faint blue glow as they are slowed down. This event, called the Cherenkov effect, also happens in nuclear reactor containment pools.
How likely (or unlikely) are these interactions? Well, you would have to flip 75 heads in a row on a fair coin to have the same probability of a single neutrino interacting with a particle of matter. Think this is easy? Go ahead and flip them. It’ll take a while.
Under the sea
The KM3NeT telescope collaboration uses this Cherenkov effect to scrutinise the depths of the Mediterranean Sea for the telltale faint glow of those neutrino events. They operate two huge detection stations – one off the shores of Toulon, France and one off the southern coast of Sicily. Scientists keep watch for events around the clock.
The scale of those detectors is gigantic, as are most neutrino detectors, since the only way of spotting the elusive neutrino collision is to try to increase the amount of matter that the neutrino can interact with. In fact, the KM3 part of the KM3NeT acronym stands for the kilometre cube (KM3) of seawater that the detector will be surveying when completed.
The detection stations themselves each consist of nearly 600 light detectors – spherical buoys each containing 31 light sensing tubes, which are attached to cables anchored to the seabed up to 3.5km below the surface.
The particle described in our recent paper was detected on February 13 2023. And you might wonder why the long wait? The intervening time has been spent by collaborators across Europe verifying and simulating the detection to confirm the nature of the event. After months of work by the KM3NeT team, we can finally say that this is the most energetic observation of a neutrino interaction ever recorded.
About 28,000 photons (light particles) were detected across the array in Sicily, indicating that a hugely energetic event had just happened. That said, an average 75W lightbulb generates millions and millions of photons every second (about 100 quintillion to be more precise). But while these few thousands of photons might appear to be a small event, remember that this has been generated by a single particle.
In fact, the energy of the neutrino responsible for such bright display was estimated to be 220 peta-electronvolts (PeV) or 30 times more energetic than the highest-energy neutrino recorded so far. In terms of particle energies, it is around 1,000 times more energetic than the particles generated at Cern, the most energetic accelerator facility in the world.
The light generated by this record-breaking event could be followed through the detector array and our collaboration was able to use it to reconstruct the near-horizontal trajectory of this high-energy neutrino. The path taken indicates that this neutrino is of cosmic origin.
We don’t know exactly where it comes from, but we’ve identified 12 potential blazars (bright cores of active galaxies) that may have produced it. It is also possible that it was created in the interaction of cosmic rays with photons from the cosmic energy background.
This detection provides a window into the ultra-high-energy phenomena happening in the universe and could, for example, help us better understand the nature of some of the most energetic cosmic rays. Moreover, the observation can help us further test the theoretical models that predict the existence of high-energy neutrinos.
David Benoit receives funding from the European Union, the Science and Technology Facilities Council and the UKRI National Quantum Computing Centre.
James Keegans receives funding from the European Union.
Source: The Conversation – UK – By Blane Savage, Lecturer in MA Creative Media Practice and BA(Hons) Graphic Art & Moving Image, University of the West of Scotland
The exhibition curator James Knox is to be congratulated on bringing together an impressive collection of work that tells the story of a diverse group of artists who helped transform and modernise British art in the early 20th century and contains work held in private collections not seen by the public before.
The Scottish colourists, as they were known, all visited and lived in Paris and were heavily influenced by the burgeoning avant-garde movement there in the early years of the 20th century. This was during its most dynamic and transformative stages, when cubism, post-impressionism and fauvism movements were evolving.
The exhibition highlights and contrasts the work produced by the colourists to that of Roger Fry’s Bloomsbury group members, Vanessa Bell and her amour Duncan Grant. It also includes work by the Fitzroy Street Group and several distinguished Welsh artists of that time, Augustus John and James Dickson Innes, as well as fauvist artists Andre Derain and Kees van Dongen.
The colourists’ paintings stand out in the exhibition through the maturity and confidence of their artworks, the tonal qualities and vibrancy of their colour palettes consistently rising above the more muted works surrounding them.
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The capacity of the colourists to study, travel and seek inspiration internationally, away from a grey Scottish Presbyterian climate, and particularly, embedding themselves in the Paris art scene in the early 20th century is impressive.
These artists stood shoulder to shoulder with their European contemporaries, inspired by the post-impressionist work of Cezanne, Matisse, Van Gogh and Derain. They delivered consistent and highly sophisticated artworks throughout their careers exploring light, shape and dynamic colour ranges, and often painted outdoors.
Each of the Scottish colourists returned to Scotland bringing new approaches to art with them. Peploe experimented with Cezanne-like geometric forms, whereas Fergusson’s practice was heavily influenced by the fauves. Hunter experimented with simplified post-impressionist blocks of colour to create dynamic shapes, while Cadell often focused on bold shapes and stylish impressionistic compositions.
Peploe, Hunter and Cadell exhibited in London’s Leicester Gallery in 1923 where they were first described as the “three colourists” by critic P.G. Konody.
Peploe, Fergusson and Hunter’s reputations were enhanced in 1924 when their work was bought by the French state after an exhibition organised by one of the most influential art dealers in Europe, Glaswegian Alexander Reid. He represented the four artists at the Galerie Barbazanges in Paris entitled Les Peintres de L’Ecosse Moderne, and turned their loose affiliation into an art movement.
Reid had also been responsible for developing the profile of The Glasgow Boys – a group of radical young painters whose disillusionment with academic painting signalled the birth of modernism in Scotland in the late 19th century. Reid was also a central figure in developing Sir William Burrell’s art collection. This was closely followed by a further exhibition in London’s Leicester Gallery in 1925 and then in Paris in 1931.
Peploe was the most commercially successful of the four artists, having a still life purchased by the Tate in 1927. His painting of Paris Plage captures the atmospherically startling white light of that French region. His studio work with a still life of flowers and fruit had the hallmarks of Cezanne’s style.
His love of outdoor landscapes, as shown in Kirkcudbright, painted in south-west Scotland, also resemble Cezanne’s primary geometric forms. He visited the island of Iona on a number of occasions with Cadell and other painters, revealing his love of the white sands, rocks and water which can be seen in Green Sea, Iona.
Cadell was known for his powerful still lifes, stylish portraits of elegant women in hats, and for his landscape painting on Iona. Cadell’s Green Sea on Iona and Ben More on Mull on show are part of a series of paintings of the white sands he produced on his regular visits there.
J.D. Fergusson‘s The Blue Hat, Closerie de Lilas is an outstanding piece on show which dazzles with the vibrancy of Parisian cafe life. He was attracted to fauve-like expressive colours and strong outlines in his work. The one piece of sculpture on display is by Fergusson, whose foray into sculptural medium in the Eastre, Hymn to the Sun is striking in its modernist aesthetic – like the female robot character in Fritz Lang’s Metropolis.
Having no art training like the others, Lesley Hunter’s Still Life with White Jug and Peonies in a Chinese vase highlight his developing skills as a still life painter and they have a striking vibrancy to them. His outdoor scenes use loosely styled daubs of colour in a post-impressionistic style often in vibrant colours.
All the Scottish colourists were recognised for their influence and contribution to the development of Scottish art during their lifetimes, combining aspects of The Glasgow School and cutting-edge Parisian avant garde. But they fell out of fashion due to economic decline before the second world war.
They were rediscovered and packaged as a collective in the 1950s initially by art historian T.J. Honeyman in his book Three Scottish Colourists and were brought together with the inclusion of J.D. Fergusson in the 1980s. Although their key role in the development of Scottish art history is assured, interestingly their appreciation in France is even greater than in Britain.
The Scottish Colourists: Radical Perspectives is on at the Dovecot Studios in Edinburgh until June 28.
Blane Savage 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.
We are in the early days of a seismic shift in the global AI industry. DeepSeek, a previously little-known Chinese artificial intelligence company, has produced a “game changing”“ large language model that promises to reshape the AI landscape almost overnight.
But DeepSeek’s breakthrough also has wider implications for the technological arms race between the US and China, having apparently caught even the best-known US tech firms off guard. Its launch has been predicted to start a “slow unwinding of the AI bet” in the west, amid a new era of “AI efficiency wars”.
In fact, industry experts have been speculating for years about China’s rapid advancements in AI. While the supposedly free-market US has often prioritised proprietary models, China has built a thriving AI ecosystem by leveraging open-source technology, fostering collaboration between government-backed research institutions and major tech firms.
This strategy has enabled China to scale its AI innovation rapidly while the US – despite all the tub-thumping from Silicon Valley – remains limited by restrictive corporate structures. Companies such as Google and Meta, despite promoting open-sourceinitiatives, still rely heavily on closed-source strategies that limit broader access and collaboration.
What makes DeepSeek particularly disruptive is its ability to achieve cutting-edge performance while reducing computing costs – an area where US firms have struggled due to their dependence on training models that demand very expensive processing hardware.
Where once Silicon Valley was the epicentre of global digital innovation, its corporate behemoths now appear vulnerable to more innovative, “scrappy” startup competitors – albeit ones enabled by major state investment in AI infrastructure. By leveraging China’s industrial approach to AI, DeepSeek has crystallised a reality that many in Silicon Valley have long ignored: AI’s centre of power is shifting away from the US and the west.
It highlights the failure of US attempts to preserve its technological hegemony through tight export controls on cutting-edge AI chips to China. According to research fellow Dean Ball: “You can keep [computing resources] away from China, but you can’t export-control the ideas that everyone in the world is hunting for.”
DeepSeek’s success has forced Silicon Valley and large western tech companies to “take stock”, realising that their once-unquestioned dominance is suddenly at risk. Even the US president, Donald Trump, has proclaimed that this should be a “wake-up call for our industries that we need to be laser-focused on competing”.
But this story is not just about technological prowess – it could mark an important shift in global power. Former US secretary of state Mike Pompeo has framed DeepSeek’s emergence as a “shot across America’s bow”, urging US policymakers and tech executives to take immediate action.
DeepSeek’s rapid rise underscores a growing realisation: globally, we are entering a potentially new AI paradigm, one where China’s model of open-source innovation and state-backed development is proving more effective than Silicon Valley’s corporate-driven approach.
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.
I’ve spent much of my career analysing the transformative role of AI on the global digital landscape – examining how AI shapes governance, market structures and public discourse, and exploring its geopolitical and ethical dimensions, now and far in the future.
I also have personal connections with China, having lived there while teaching at Jiangsu University, then written my PhD thesis on the country’s state-led marketisation programme. Over the years, I have studied China’s evolving tech landscape, observing firsthand how its unique blend of state-driven industrial policy and private-sector innovation has fuelled rapid AI development.
I believe this moment may come to be seen as a turning point not just for AI, but for the geopolitical order. If China’s AI dominance continues, what could this mean for the future of digital governance, democracy, and the global balance of power?
China’s open-source AI takeover
Even in the early days of China’s digital transformation, analysts predicted the country’s open-source focus could lead to a major AI breakthrough. In 2018, China was integrating open-source collaboration into its broader digitisation strategy, recognising that fostering shared development efforts could accelerate its AI capabilities.
Unlike the US, where proprietary AI models dominated, China embraced open-source ecosystems to bypass western gatekeeping, scale innovation faster, and embed itself in global AI collaboration. China’s open-source activity surged dramatically in 2020, laying the foundation for the kind of innovation seen today. By actively fostering an open-source culture, China ensured that a broad range of developers had access to AI tools, rather than restricting them to a handful of dominant companies.
The trend has continued in recent years, with China even launching its own state-backed open-source operating systems and platforms in 2023, to further reduce its dependence on western technology. This move was widely seen as an effort to cement its AI leadership and create an independent, self-sustaining digital ecosystem.
Video: BBC.
While China has been steadily positioning itself as a leader in open-source AI, Silicon Valley firms remained focused on closed, proprietary models – allowing China to catch up fast. While companies like Google and Meta promoted open-source initiatives in name, they still locked key AI capabilities behind paywalls and restrictive licenses.
In contrast, China’s government-backed initiatives have treated open-source AI as a national resource, rather than a corporate asset. This has resulted in China becoming one of the world’s largest contributors to open-source AI development, surpassing many western firms in collaborative projects. Chinese tech giants such as Huawei, Alibaba and Tencent are driving open-source AI forward with frameworks like PaddlePaddle, X-Deep Learning (X-DL) and MindSpore — all now core to China’s machine learning ecosystem.
But they’re also making major contributions to global AI projects, from Alibaba’s Dragonfly, which streamlines large-scale data distribution, to Baidu’s Apollo, an open-source platform accelerating autonomous vehicle development. These efforts don’t just strengthen China’s AI industry, they embed it deeper into the global AI landscape.
This shift had been years in the making, as Chinese firms (with state backing) pushed open-source AI forward and made their models publicly available, creating a feedback loop that western companies have also – quietly – tapped into. A year ago, for example, US firm Abicus.AI released Smaug-72B, an AI model designed for enterprises that built directly upon Alibaba’s Qwen-72B and outperformed proprietary models like OpenAI’s GPT-3.5 and Mistral’s Medium. But the potential for US companies to further build on Chinese open-source technology may be limited by political as well as corporate barriers.
In 2023, US lawmakers highlighted growing concerns that China’s aggressive investment in open-source AI and semiconductor technologies would eventually erode western leadership in AI. Some policymakers called for bans on certain open-source chip technologies, due to fears they could further accelerate China’s AI advancements.
But by then, China’s AI horse had already bolted.
AI with Chinese characteristics
DeepSeek’s rise should have been obvious to anyone familiar with management theory and the history of technological breakthroughs linked to “disruptive innovation”. Latecomers to an industry rarely compete by playing the same game as incumbents – they have to be disruptive.
China, facing restrictions on cutting-edge western AI chips and lagging behind in proprietary AI infrastructure, had no choice but to innovate differently. Open-source AI provided the perfect vehicle: a way to scale innovation rapidly, lower costs and tap into global research while bypassing Silicon Valley’s resource-heavy, closed-source model.
From a western and traditional human rights perspective, China’s embrace of open-source AI may appear paradoxical, given the country’s strict information controls. Its AI development strategy prioritises both technological advancement and strict alignment with the Chinese Communist party’s ideological framework, ensuring AI models adhere to “core socialist values” and state-approved narratives. AI research in China has thrived not only despite these constraints but, in many ways, because of them.
Video: CNBC.
China’s success goes beyond traditional authoritarianism; it embodies what Harvard economist David Yang calls “Autocracy 2.0”. Rather than relying solely on fear-based control, it uses economic incentives, bureaucratic efficiency, and technology to manage information and maintain regime stability.
The Chinese government has strategically encouraged open-source development while maintaining tight control over AI’s domestic applications, particularly in surveillance and censorship. Indeed, authoritarian regimes may have a significant advantage in developing facial-recognition technology due to their extensive surveillance systems. The vast amounts of data collected through these networks enable private AI companies to create advanced algorithms, which can then be adapted for commercial uses, potentially accelerating economic growth.
China’s AI strategy is built on a dual foundation of state-led initiatives and private-sector innovation. The country’s AI roadmap, first outlined in the 2017 new generation artificial intelligence development plan, follows a three-phase timeline: achieving global competitiveness by 2020, making major AI breakthroughs by 2025, and securing world leadership in AI by 2030. In parallel, the government has emphasised data governance, regulatory frameworks and ethical oversight to guide AI development “responsibly”.
A defining feature of China’s AI expansion has been the massive infusion of state-backed investment. Over the past decade, government venture capital funds have injected approximately US$912 billion (£737bn) into early-stage firms, with 23% of that funding directed toward AI-related companies. A significant portion has targeted China’s less-developed regions, following local investment mandates.
Compared with private venture capital, government-backed firms often lag in software development but demonstrate rapid growth post-investment. Moreover, state funding often serves as a signal for subsequent private-sector investment, reinforcing the country’s AI ecosystem.
China’s AI strategy represents a departure from its traditional industrial policies, which historically emphasised self-sufficiency, support for a handful of national champions, and military-driven research. Instead, the government has embraced a more flexible and collaborative approach that encourages open-source software adoption, a diverse network of AI firms, and public-private partnerships to accelerate innovation. This model prioritises research funding, state-backed AI laboratories, and AI integration across key industries including security, healthcare, and infrastructure.
Despite strong state involvement, China’s AI boom is equally driven by private-sector innovation. The country is home to an estimated 4,500 AI companies, accounting for 15% of the world’s total.
As economist Liu Gang told the Chinese Communist Party’s Global Times newspaper: “The development of AI is fast in China – for example, for AI-empowered large language models. Aided with government spending, private capital is flowing to the new sector. Increased capital inflow is anticipated to further enhance the sector in 2025.”
China’s tech giants including Baidu, Alibaba, Tencent and SenseTime have all benefited from substantial government support while remaining competitive on the global stage. But unlike in the US, China’s AI ecosystem thrives on a complex interplay between state support, corporate investment and academic collaboration.
Recognising the potential of open-source AI early on, Tsinghua University in Beijing has emerged as a key innovation hub, producing leading AI startups such as Zhipu AI, Baichuan AI, Moonshot AI and MiniMax — all founded by its faculty and alumni. The Chinese Academy of Sciences has similarly played a crucial role in advancing research in deep learning and natural language processing.
Unlike the west, where companies like Google and Meta promote open-source models for strategic business gains, China sees them as a means of national technological self-sufficiency. To this end, the National AI Team, composed of 23 leading private enterprises, has developed the National AI Open Innovation Platform, which provides open access to AI datasets, toolkits, libraries and other computing resources.
DeepSeek is a prime example of China’s AI strategy in action. The company’s rise embodies the government’s push for open-source collaboration while remaining deeply embedded within a state-guided AI ecosystem. Chinese developers have long been major contributors to open-source platforms, ranking as the second-largest group on GitHub by 2021.
Founded by Chinese entrepreneur Liang Wenfeng in 2023, DeepSeek has positioned itself as an AI leader while benefiting from China’s state-driven AI ecosystem. Liang, who also established the hedge fund High-Flyer, has maintained full ownership of DeepSeek and avoided external venture capital funding.
Though there is no direct evidence of government financial backing, DeepSeek has reaped the rewards of China’s AI talent pipeline, state-sponsored education programs, and research funding. Liang has engaged with top government officials including China’s premier, Li Qiang, reflecting the company’s strategic importance to the country’s broader AI ambitions.
In this way, DeepSeek perfectly encapsulates “AI with Chinese characteristics” – a fusion of state guidance, private-sector ingenuity, and open-source collaboration, all carefully managed to serve the country’s long-term technological and geopolitical objectives.
Recognising the strategic value of open-source innovation, the government has actively promoted domestic open-source code platforms like Gitee to foster self-reliance and insulate China’s AI ecosystem from external disruptions. However, this also exposes the limits of China’s open-source ambitions. The government pushes collaboration, but only within a tightly controlled system where state-backed firms and tech giants call the shots.
Reports of censorship on Gitee reveal how Beijing carefully manages innovation, ensuring AI advances stay in line with national priorities. Independent developers can contribute, but the real power remains concentrated in companies that operate within the government’s strategic framework.
The conflicted reactions of US big tech
DeepSeek’s emergence has sparked intense debate across the AI industry, drawing a range of reactions from leading Silicon Valley executives, policymakers and researchers. While some view it as an expected evolution of open-source AI, others see it as a direct challenge to western AI leadership.
Microsoft’s CEO, Satya Nadella, emphasised its technical efficiency. “It’s super-impressive in terms of both how they have really effectively done an open-source model that does this inference-time compute, and is super-compute efficient,” Nadella told CNBC. “We should take the developments out of China very, very seriously”.
Silicon Valley venture capitalist Marc Andreessen, a prominent advisor to Trump, was similarly effusive. “DeepSeek R1 is one of the most amazing and impressive breakthroughs I’ve ever seen – and as open source, a profound gift to the world,” he wrote on X.
For Yann LeCun, Meta’s chief AI scientist, DeepSeek is less about China’s AI capabilities and more about the broader power of open-source innovation. He argued that the situation should be read not as China’s AI surpassing the US, but rather as open-source models surpassing proprietary ones. “DeepSeek has profited from open research and open source (e.g. PyTorch and Llama from Meta),” he wrote on Threads. “They came up with new ideas and built them on top of other people’s work. Because their work is published and open source, everyone can profit from it. That is the power of open research and open source.”
Not all responses were so measured. Alexander Wang, CEO of Scale AI – a US firm specialising in AI data labelling and model training – framed DeepSeek as a competitive threat that demands an aggressive response. He wrote on X: “DeepSeek is a wake-up call for America, but it doesn’t change the strategy: USA must out-innovate & race faster, as we have done in the entire history of AI. Tighten export controls on chips so that we can maintain future leads. Every major breakthrough in AI has been American.”
Elon Musk added fuel to speculation about DeepSeek’s hardware access when he responded with a simple “obviously” to Wang’s earlier claims on CNBC that DeepSeek had secretly acquired 50,000 Nvidia H100 GPUs, despite US export restrictions.
Beyond the tech world, US policymakers have taken a more adversarial stance. House speaker Mike Johnson accused China of leveraging DeepSeek to erode American AI leadership. “They abuse the system, they steal our intellectual property. They’re now trying to get a leg up on us in AI.”
For his part, Trump took a more pragmatic view, seeing DeepSeek’s efficiency as a validation of cost-cutting approaches. “I view that as a positive, as an asset … You won’t be spending as much, and you’ll get the same result, hopefully.”
The rise of DeepSeek may have helped jolt the Trump administration into action, leading to sweeping policy shifts aimed at securing US dominance in AI. In his first week back in the White House, the US president announced a series of aggressive measures, including massive federal investments in AI research, closer partnerships between the government and private tech firms, and the rollback of regulations seen as slowing US innovation.
The administration’s framing of AI as a critical national interest reflects a broader urgency sparked by China’s rapid advancements, particularly DeepSeek’s ability to produce cutting-edge models at a fraction of the cost traditionally associated with AI development. But this response is not just about national competitiveness – it is also deeply entangled with private industry.
Musk’s growing closeness to Trump, for example, can be viewed as a calculated move to protect his own dominance at home and abroad. By aligning with the administration, Musk ensures that US policy tilts in favour of his AI ventures, securing access to government backing, computing power, and regulatory control over AI exports.
At the same time, Musk’s public criticism of Trump’s US$500 billion AI infrastructure plan – claiming the companies involved lack the necessary funding – was as much a warning as a dismissal, signalling his intent to shape policy in a way that benefits his empire while keeping potential challengers at bay.
Not unrelated, Musk and a group of investors have just launched a US$97.4 billion (£78.7bn) bid for OpenAI’s nonprofit arm, a move that escalates his feud with OpenAI CEO Sam Altman and seeks to strengthen his grip on the AI industry. Altman has dismissed the bid as a “desperate power grab”, insisting that OpenAI will not be swayed by Musk’s attempts to reclaim control. The spat reflects how DeepSeek’s emergence has thrown US tech giants into what could be all-out war, fuelling bitter corporate rivalries and reshaping the fight for AI dominance.
And while the US and China escalate their AI competition, other global leaders are pushing for a coordinated response. The Paris AI Action Summit, held on February 10 and 11, has become a focal point for efforts to prevent AI from descending into an uncontrolled power struggle. France’s president, Emmanuel Macron, warned delegates that without international oversight, AI risks becoming “the wild west”, where unchecked technological development creates instability rather than progress.
But at the end of the two-day summit, the UK and US refused to sign an international commitment to “ensuring AI is open, inclusive, transparent, ethical, safe, secure and trustworthy … making AI sustainable for people and the planet”. China was among the 61 countries to sign this declaration.
Concerns have also been raised at the summit about how AI-powered surveillance and control are enabling authoritarian regimes to strengthen repression and reshape the citizen-state relationship. This highlights the fast-growing global industry of digital repression, driven by an emerging “authoritarian-financial complex” that may exacerbate China’s strategic advancement in AI.
Equally, DeepSeek’s cost-effective AI solutions have created an opening for European firms to challenge the traditional AI hierarchy. As AI development shifts from being solely about compute power to strategic efficiency and accessibility, European firms now have an opportunity to compete more aggressively against their US and Chinese counterparts.
Whether this marks a true rebalancing of the AI landscape remains to be seen. But DeepSeek’s emergence has certainly upended traditional assumptions about who will lead the next wave of AI innovation – and how global powers will respond to it.
End of the ‘Silicon Valley effect’?
DeepSeek’s emergence has forced US tech leaders to confront an uncomfortable reality: they underestimated China’s AI capabilities. Confident in their perceived lead, companies like Google, Meta, and OpenAI prioritised incremental improvements over anticipating disruptive competition, leaving them vulnerable to a rapidly evolving global AI landscape.
In response, the US tech giants are now scrambling to defend their dominance, pledging over US$400 billion in AI investment. DeepSeek’s rise, fuelled by open-source collaboration, has reignited fierce debates over innovation versus security, while its energy-efficient model has intensified scrutiny on AI’s sustainability.
Yet Silicon Valley continues to cling to what many view as outdated economic theories such as the Jevons paradox to downplay China’s AI surge, insisting that greater efficiency will only fuel demand for computing power and reinforce their dominance. Companies like Meta, OpenAI and Microsoft remain fixated on scaling computational power, betting that expensive hardware will secure their lead. But this assumption blinds them to a shifting reality.
DeepSeek’s rise as the potential “Walmart of AI” is shaking Silicon Valley’s foundation, proving that high-quality AI models can be built at a fraction of the cost. By prioritising efficiency over brute-force computing power, DeepSeek is challenging the US tech industry’s reliance on expensive hardware like Nvidia’s high-end chips.
This shift has already rattled markets, driving down the stock prices of major US firms and forcing a reassessment of AI dominance. Nvidia, whose business depends on supplying high-performance processors, appears particularly vulnerable as DeepSeek’s cost-effective approach threatens to reduce demand for premium chips.
Video: CBS News.
The growing divide between the US and China in AI, however, is more than just competition – it’s a clash of governance models. While US firms remain fixated on protecting market dominance, China is accelerating AI innovation with a model that is proving more adaptable to global competition.
If Silicon Valley resists structural change, it risks falling further behind. We may witness the unravelling of the “Silicon Valley effect”, through which tech giants have long manipulated AI regulations to entrench their dominance. For years, Google, Meta,and OpenAI shaped policies that favoured proprietary models and costly infrastructure, ensuring AI development remained under their control.
More than a policy-driven rise, China’s AI surge reflects a fundamentally different innovation model – fast, collaborative and market-driven – while Silicon Valley holds on to expensive infrastructure and rigid proprietary control. If US firms refuse to adapt, they risk losing the future of AI to a more agile and cost-efficient competitor.
A new era of geotechnopolitics
But China is not just disrupting Silicon Valley. It is expanding “geotechnopolitics”, where AI is a battleground for global power. With AI projected to add US$15.7 trillion to the global economy by 2030, China and the US are racing to control the technology that will define economic, military and political dominance.
DeepSeek’s advancement has raised national security concerns in the US. Trump’s government is considering stricter export controls on AI-related technologies to prevent them from bolstering China’s military and intelligence capabilities.
As AI-driven defence systems, intelligence operations and cyber warfare redefine national security, governments must confront a new reality: AI leadership is not just about technological superiority, but about who controls the intelligence that will shape the next era of global power.
China’s AI ambitions extend beyond technology, driving a broader strategy for economic and geopolitical dominance. But with over 50 state-backed companies developing large-scale AI models, its rapid expansion faces growing challenges, including soaring energy demands and US semiconductor restrictions.
China’s president, Xi Jinping, remains resolute, stating: “Whoever can grasp the opportunities of new economic development such as big data and artificial intelligence will have the pulse of our times.” He sees AI driving “new quality productivity” and modernising China’s manufacturing base, calling its “head goose effect” a catalyst for broader innovation.
To counter western containment, China has embraced a “guerrilla” economic strategy, bypassing restrictions through alternative trade networks, deepening ties with the global south, and exploiting weaknesses in global supply chains. Instead of direct confrontation, this decentralised approach uses economic coercion to weaken adversaries while securing China’s own industrial base.
Video: AP.
China is also leveraging open-source AI as an ideological tool, presenting its model as more collaborative and accessible than western alternatives. This narrative strengthens its global influence, aligning with nations seeking alternatives to western digital control. While strict state oversight remains, China’s embrace of open-source AI reinforces its claim to a future where innovation is driven not by corporate interests but through shared collaboration and global cooperation.
But while DeepSeek claims to be open access, its secrecy tells a different story. Key details on training data and fine-tuning remain hidden, and its compliance with China’s AI laws has sparked global scrutiny. Italy has banned the platform over data-transfer risks, while Belgium and Ireland launched privacy probes.
Under Chinese regulations, DeepSeek’s outputs must align with state-approved narratives, clashing with the EU’s AI Act, which demands transparency and protects political speech. Such “controlled openness” raises many red flags, casting doubt on China’s place in markets that value data security and free expression.
Many western commentators are seizing on reports of Chinese AI censorship to frame other models as freer and more politically open. The revelation that a leading Chinese chatbot actively modifies or censors responses in real time has fuelled a broader narrative that western AI operates without such restrictions, reinforcing the idea that democratic systems produce more transparent and unbiased technology. This framing serves to bolster the argument that free societies will ultimately lead the global AI race.
But at its heart, the “AI arms race” is driven by technological dominance. The US, China, and the EU are charting different paths, weighing security risks against the need for global collaboration. How this competition is framed will shape policy: lock AI behind restrictions, or push for open innovation.
DeepSeek, for all its transformational qualities, continues to exemplify a model of AI where innovation prioritises scale, speed and efficiency over societal impact. This drive to optimise computation and expand capabilities overshadows the need to design AI as a truly public good. In doing so, it eclipses this technology’s genuine potential to transform governance, public services and social institutions in ways that prioritise collective wellbeing, equity and sustainability over corporate and state control.
A truly global AI framework requires more than political or technological openness. It demands structured cooperation that prioritises shared governance, equitable access, and responsible development. Following a workshop in Shanghai hosted by the Chinese government last September, the UN’s general secretary, António Guterres, outlined his vision for AI beyond corporate or state control: “We must seize this historic opportunity to lay the foundations for inclusive governance of AI – for the benefit of all humanity. As we build AI capacity, we must also develop shared knowledge and digital public goods.”
Both the west and China frame their AI ambitions through competing notions of “openness” – each aligning with their strategic interests and reinforcing existing power structures.
Western tech giants claim AI drives democratisation, yet they often dominate digital infrastructure in parts of Africa, Asia and Latin America, exporting models based on “corporate imperialism” that extract value while disregarding local needs. China, by contrast, positions itself as a technological partner for the rest of the global south; however, its AI remains tightly controlled, reinforcing state ideology.
China’s proclaimed view on international AI collaboration emphasises that AI should not be “a game of rich countries”“, as President Xi stated during the 2024 G20 summit. By advocating for inclusive global AI development, China positions itself as a leader in shaping international AI governance, especially via initiatives like the UN AI resolution and its AI capacity-building action plan. These efforts help promote a more balanced technological landscape while allowing China to strengthen its influence in global AI standards and frameworks.
However, beneath all these narratives, both China and the US share a strategy of AI expansion that relies on exploited human labour, from data annotation to moderation, exposing a system driven less by innovation than by economic and political control.
Seeing AI as a connected race for influence highlights the need for ethical deployment, cross-border cooperation, and a balance between security and progress. And this is where China may face its greatest challenge – balancing the power of open-source innovation with the constraints of a tightly controlled, authoritarian system that thrives on restriction, rather than openness.
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Peter Bloom 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 Ivo Vlaev, Professor of Behavioural Science, Warwick Business School, University of Warwick
Sir Keir Starmer has become the first sitting UK prime minister to publicly take an HIV test to reduce stigma around Aids and encourage more people to get tested.
There are historical parallels. In 1956, when Elvis Presley, at the height of his fame, was filmed receiving his polio vaccine on US television.
Do these high-profile gestures really change attitudes and behaviour, or are they just headline-grabbing stunts?
A closer look at the behavioural science behind celebrity endorsements suggests that, under the right conditions, public demonstrations by famous figures can indeed shift social norms, reduce stigma and influence health outcomes. However, the effects depend a lot on the credibility of the endorser, the authenticity of the act and the presence of sustained, follow-up campaigns.
Elvis Presley’s polio jab is one of the most iconic examples of celebrity-led health campaigns. But many other well-known figures have encouraged the public to adopt protective health measures, from actors promoting annual flu jabs to footballers advocating organ donation drives.
The premise is that a celebrity’s endorsement can normalise certain behaviour by tapping into the principles of “social learning theory”, particularly observational learning. That is, when we see someone we admire or trust do something, we are more likely to follow suit.
In the 1950s, polio was a serious threat, capable of causing paralysis or death. After witnessing Elvis roll up his sleeve on national television, many teenagers – previously sceptical or apathetic – became far more willing to accept the polio vaccine. That event is now hailed as a masterclass in leveraging popular culture to address a public health crisis.
A masterclass in leveraging popular culture.
A cornerstone of behavioural science is the recognition that who delivers a message can be as important as – or sometimes more important than – what the message contains. The so-called “messenger effect” highlights how we are often more persuaded by people we perceive to be credible, relatable or high status.
In the case of Elvis, he was already idolised by millions. He was the perfect conduit to promote vaccination among teenagers who might otherwise dismiss appeals from older authority figures.
Starmer occupies a different kind of influence. Supporters of the Labour party may see him as a trustworthy figure, while others could be sceptical of a politician’s motives. This underscores a key aspect of the messenger effect: if a large segment of the target audience views the figure as partisan or self-serving, the endorsement can backfire or simply fail to register.
Another powerful effect identified in behavioural science is social norms – our shared understandings of what is typical or appropriate – which strongly influence whether we take certain actions.
Stigma around HIV remains a major barrier to testing and treatment. Even though medical advances have changed the landscape of HIV/Aids care, many people still fear the societal consequences of a positive diagnosis. According to the UK Health Security Agency, around 5,000 people in the UK are unaware they are living with HIV, partly because they hesitate to test in the first place.
By publicly taking an HIV test, Starmer aimed to shift perceptions and normalise testing. In terms of social identity theory, seeing a prominent figure within the national community – especially one involved in shaping policies – undergo testing can communicate that “people like us” view HIV testing as a routine, responsible health measure. This may be particularly powerful for people who identify politically with Starmer or who respect his leadership position.
Despite the potential of celebrity or high-profile endorsements, behavioural science also points to authenticity as a vital ingredient. Audiences are more likely to change their behaviour if they believe the celebrity genuinely cares about the issue rather than simply seeking publicity. If endorsements are perceived as insincere or politically opportunistic, their effect can be muted or even counterproductive.
In Elvis’s case, he was known for engaging with young fans and had a track record of public good works, which helped bolster the sense that his polio vaccination was done for more than just a publicity boost.
For Starmer, sustaining the momentum beyond a single test – through continued advocacy, support of free testing programmes, and visibility in HIV-awareness campaigns – could reinforce the perception of a real commitment rather than a fleeting photo opportunity.
Nudges
Behavioural scientists also often talk about “nudges” – small interventions that change people’s choices without forbidding options or significantly changing incentives. A celebrity endorsement can serve as a nudge by making a desirable health behaviour (like getting tested) more top-of-mind or socially acceptable.
However, historically, Elvis’s vaccination was not a standalone act. It was part of a broader public health strategy involving schools, local campaigns and continued outreach. Those elements ensured that once people were motivated to get the polio jab, they could do so easily.
For HIV testing, the same principle applies: visible leadership from Starmer may spark initial interest, but practical measures – such as pop-up testing centres, free home-test kits and confidential testing support – are vital to maintain engagement.
Is Keir Starmer the new Elvis? In reality, the two scenarios differ in time and context. A 21st-century political leader raising awareness about HIV testing in the UK operates within a more complex media landscape than a 1950s rock ’n’ roll icon on American primetime television. Yet, there is a parallel: both used their public status to tackle a widespread health concern, hoping to overcome stigma and promote an important preventative measure.
Ultimately, celebrity moments can open the door, but only a sustained, evidence-based strategy will keep it open – and encourage people to walk through.
Anyone in England can order a free and confidential HIV test from www.freetesting.hiv to do the test at home.
Ivo Vlaev 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.
Grown in Ecuador (Équateur en français), sold in Paris. Robert Crum / shutterstock
As you read this, planes full of roses are heading from east Africa and South America to almost every corner of the world. If you buy someone a rose this Valentine’s Day, it may be in the air right now or perhaps in a refrigerated warehouse in the Netherlands.
A huge logistical operation ensures those flowers are timed to be perfectly in bloom on the 14th. From flower farm to bouquet can take just a few days. In all, hundreds of millions of roses will be shipped internationally this week, and many will die before they can be sold.
Can all this flying be justified?
You’re reading the Imagine newsletter – a weekly synthesis of academic insight on solutions to climate change, brought to you by The Conversation. I’m Will de Freitas, energy and environment editor, covering for my colleague Jack Marley who is lovesick. This week, we’re looking at flowers.
Many people don’t realise just how far a Valentine’s rose has probably travelled. Though roses can be grown in the UK (and some species are native), most of them won’t flower for at least another few months.
Jill Timms and David Bek, academics at the University of Coventry who have researched the global flower trade point out: “This sort of localised growing does not satisfy the demand for volume, variety and year-round supply, or indeed guarantee sustainability in terms of energy, pesticide use and so on.”
This means most roses are imported from countries with more land, more sunshine, and a cheaper workforce. Major growers include Colombia, Ecuador, Kenya and Ethiopia. The Netherlands is actually the biggest exporter of roses, partly due to its own production in greenhouses but mostly thanks to its position as a crucial hub for the global trade. Flowers sent to the UK from the Netherlands were probably grown elsewhere.
To ensure they stay fresh, those flowers are kept cool as they’re transported in a series of refrigerated lorries, planes or boats, while some are sprayed with chemicals to freeze them.
“Geography matters,” say Timms and Bek. “Some flowers travel by sea, some cargo plane and others in the hold of passenger jets, all with very different carbon footprints.”
Figuring out a flower’s carbon footprint is not straightforward. Jennifer Lavers and Fiona Kerslake from the University of Tasmania compared cut flowers grown in heated or refrigerated greenhouses in the Netherlands with those grown in Kenya.
“Maintaining the controlled environmental conditions inside these [Dutch] buildings requires artificial light, heat and cooling, so each rose grown in The Netherlands contributes an average of around 2.91kg of CO₂ to the atmosphere.”
“In contrast”, they write, “a single rose grown on a farm in Kenya contributes only 0.5kg. This is largely because Kenyan hot houses do not use artificial heating or lighting, and most farm workers walk or cycle to work. As a result, flowers grown in tropical regions are sometimes considered low-carbon (of course, this doesn’t always factor in international transport).”
Paul D. Larson of the University of Manitoba points out that, while local production would ground some of the international flower flights, “growing flowers in greenhouses can use as much energy as shipping them [to North America] from Colombia by air freight”.
Larson, a professor of supply chain management, does highlight one major issue with “low carbon” flowers in the global south, however:
“Since flowers are not classified as edible, they are often exempt from pesticide regulations. Thus, many flower production workers in Ecuador and Colombia have suffered from respiratory problems, rashes and eye infections caused by exposure to toxic chemicals in fertilizers, fungicides and pesticides.”
The flower trade in Ecuador and Colombia was actually engineered a few decades ago to try and stem the flow of cocaine into the US, says Jay L. Zagorsky, an associate professor at Boston University’s business school.
“One part of the strategy was to convince farmers in Colombia to stop growing coca leaves – a traditional Andean plant that provides the raw ingredient for making cocaine – by giving them preferential access to US markets if they grew something else.”
Whether this policy helped stop drug production is unclear, says Zagorsky, but American domestic rose growing has collapsed and “many businesses in Colombia and Ecuador started growing and shipping flowers north”.
No one expects you to know exactly how a flower was grown, what conditions were like for workers, or to conduct a full “life cycle assessment” of their carbon footprint. But what can you do to help this Valentine’s Day?
Timms and Bek, the flower trade experts at Coventry University, wrote about five ways to ensure your flowers are ethical. They contrast flowers grown in the Netherlands and Kenya and say that “your priorities need to guide your purchase: environmental issues include carbon footprint, chemical use, ecological degradation and water use; social issues include health and safety standards, gender discrimination, precarious employment and land rights.”
While the first world war and the Spanish civil war had already drawn children in Europe and beyond into the orbit of conflict, the second world war marked a pivotal period in how young people have experienced the horrors of war.
During the 1940s, children faced unprecedented mobilisation and violence. From bombings and massacres to forced displacement and genocide, the impact was staggering. Millions of children were directly affected by these atrocities, while countless others endured the indirect consequences: shortages, family separations and grief.
In the aftermath of the war, childhood experts such as pediatricians, psychologists and nutritionists, as well as political leaders and humanitarian workers, feared for this potentially “lost generation”. With recognition of the vulnerability of children as a social group, there was a transnational push to implement protective measures. This shared awareness led to milestones such as the establishment of the United Nations International Children’s Emergency Fund (UNICEF) in December 1946 and, later, the adoption of the Declaration of the Rights of the Child.
The period from 1939 to 1949 not only highlighted the need to protect children worldwide, but also underscored their importance in building a peaceful future. As detailed in La Seconde Guerre mondiale des enfants (The second world war of children), published in September 2024 by Presses Universitaires de France, children embodied hope for postwar nations. They were seen not only as victims of war but also as active participants in shaping a peaceful world.
Schools as foundations of reconstruction
After 1945, schools became central to Europe’s social reconstruction. Seen as spaces of socialisation that included nearly all children, schools were viewed as critical for rebuilding society. Some measures mirrored those introduced after the first world war. Children, particularly those aged 6 to 14 (the typical age for compulsory education in Europe), were tasked with preserving the memory of fallen soldiers, resistance fighters and civilian victims. They cleaned and adorned graves, attended public ceremonies and paid homage to the dead.
However, postwar education went further. In some countries, particularly those that formerly had authoritarian or totalitarian regimes such as Italy and Germany, school curricula underwent significant transformation. Lessons on democratic governance and peaceful figures were either reinforced or reintroduced, and history classes began emphasising cultural, political and economic exchanges between nations. These reforms aimed to counteract the nationalist ideologies that had fuelled war and division.
Unlike the post-WWI era, the years after 1945 saw efforts to strengthen ties between nations by fostering connections among their youngest citizens. Programs promoting international school exchanges flourished. French students corresponded with Canadian peers, British children sent books to Germans and Swedish students traveled to Belgium.
Germany hosted one of the most ambitious programs: the US-led “World Friendship Among Children Program”. This initiative included pen-pal projects, student travel and even the symbolic adoption of war orphans by classrooms. The program also established the “World Friendship Council of the Future”, where young people proposed initiatives for international dialogue, mimicking the operations of newly formed organisations such as the United Nations, UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization) and the World Health Organization.
It was also in Germany that Houses of America, or Youth Centres, were established. While the goal was to offer children sports and cultural activities, they were primarily seen by Americans as tools of soft power and political instruments to (re)educate youth about the principles of democracy.
Active pedagogy for European education
Indeed, after 1945, educating children for peace also meant educating them about democracy. Across Western Europe, teaching methods inspired by progressive education movements – championed by figures such as Maria Montessori, Ovide Decroly and John Dewey – became widespread.
For educational leaders, merely teaching democratic principles wasn’t enough: children needed to practice them. Classrooms became miniature societies where students elected class representatives, voted on school matters and debated everyday and political issues. This active engagement aimed to cultivate civic responsibility and critical thinking.
Some postwar experiments went further. Communities of children or “children’s republics” emerged across Europe to provide homes for children who had lost their homes and parents. While their primary mission was humanitarian, these communities were also intended to form the foundations of new, peaceful societies. Self-governance was central to their goal of preparation for active citizenship. In the Repubblica dei Ragazzi (boys’ republic) in Santa Marinella, near Rome, children ran their own court, deliberative assembly and union.
Ideological differences
While schools are indeed the cornerstone of global peacebuilding, debates about fostering peace go beyond the classroom to encompass all aspects of children’s lives. This includes the private sphere, as evidenced by numerous transnational legislative efforts to ban violent comic books and war-themed toys, which are accused of inciting aggression in children and thus threatening a peaceful future.
This surge of post-WWII initiatives underscores the fact that educating for peace and democracy was a European – if not global – project. However, its interpretation varied depending on country and region. In France, West Germany and Italy, the project was rooted in liberal ideals; in Eastern Europe, it reflected a different understanding of democracy.
In the West, the focus was on the individual, with boys and girls assigned traditional, gendered roles: girls were encouraged to become future mothers, while boys were groomed to be workers contributing to economic growth. In contrast, the Eastern model emphasised collective values within a socialist framework, promoting more egalitarian relationships between boys and girls, albeit in service of political objectives.
Regardless of ideological differences, these post-1945 initiatives left a lasting legacy. Their influence can still be seen today in school activities such as student elections and class trips, which continue to echo the democratic ideals of that era.
Camille Mahé ne travaille pas, ne conseille pas, ne possède pas de parts, ne reçoit pas de fonds d’une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n’a déclaré aucune autre affiliation que son organisme de recherche.
Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Jennifer Clapp, Professor and Canada Research Chair in Global Food Security and Sustainability, and Member of the International Panel of Experts on Sustainable Food Systems, University of Waterloo
History has shown us again and again that, so long as inequality goes unchecked, no amount of technology can ensure people are well fed.
Today, the world produces more food per person than ever before. Yet hunger and malnutrition persist in every corner of the globe — even, and increasingly, in some of its wealthiest countries.
The major drivers of food insecurity are well known: conflict, poverty, inequality, economic shocks and escalating climate change. In other words, the causes of hunger are fundamentally political and economic.
The urgency of the hunger crisis has prompted 150 Nobel and World Food Prize laureates to call for “moonshot” technological and agricultural innovations to boost food production, meaning monumental and lofty efforts. However, they largely ignored hunger’s root causes — and the need to confront powerful entities and make courageous political choices.
Food is misallocated
To focus almost exclusively on promoting agricultural technologies to ramp up food production would be to repeat the mistakes of the past.
The Green Revolution of the 1960s-70s brought impressive advances in crop yields, though at considerable environmental cost. It failed to eliminate hunger, because it didn’t address inequality. Take Iowa, for example — home to some of the most industrialized food production on the planet. Amid its high-tech corn and soy farms, 11 per cent of the state’s population, and one in six of its children, struggle to access food.
Even though the world already produces more than enough food to feed everyone, it’s woefully misallocated. Selling food to poor people at affordable prices simply isn’t as profitable for giant food corporations.
They make far more by exporting it for animal feed, blending it into biofuels for cars or turning it into industrial products and ultra-processed foods. To make matters worse, a third of all food is simply wasted.
Meanwhile, as the laureates remind us, more than 700 million people — nine per cent of the world’s population — remain chronically undernourished. A staggering 2.3 billion people — more than one in four — cannot access an adequate diet.
Women queue up to receive food distributed by local volunteers at a camp in Somalia in May 2019. Conflicts hinder the effective delivery of humanitarian aid during food security crisis. (AP Photo/Farah Abdi Warsameh)
Confronting inequity
Measures to address world hunger must start with its known causes and proven policies. Brazil’s Without Hunger program, for example, has seen dramatic 85 per cent reduction in severe hunger in just 18 months through financial assistance, school food programs and minimum wage policies.
Our politicians must confront and reverse gross inequities in wealth, power and access to land. Hunger disproportionately affects the poorest and most marginalized people, not because food is scarce, but because people can’t afford it or lack the resources to produce it for themselves. Redistribution policies aren’t optional, they’re essential.
Governments must put a stop to the use of hunger as a weapon of war. The worst hunger hotspots are conflict zones, as seen in Gaza and Sudan, where violence drives famine. Too many governments have looked the other way on starvation tactics — promoting emergency aid to pick up the pieces instead of taking action to end the conflicts driving hunger.
Governments must also break the stranglehold of inequitable trade rules and export patterns that trap the poorest regions in dependency on food imports, leaving them vulnerable to shocks.
Instead, supporting local and territorial markets is critical in helping build resilience to economic and supply chain disruptions. These markets provide livelihoods and help ensure diverse, nutritious foods reach those who need them.
Mitigating and adapting to climate change requires massive investments in transformative approaches that promote resilience and sustainability in food systems.
Agroecology — a farming system that applies ecological principles to ensure sustainability and promotes social equity in food systems — is a key solution, proven to sequester carbon, build resilience to climate shocks and reduce dependence on expensive and environmentally damaging synthetic fertilizers and pesticides.
More research should explore agroecology’s full potential. And we must adopt plant-rich, local and seasonal diets, ramp up measures to tackle food waste and reconsider using food crops for biofuels.
This means pushing back against Big Meat and biofuel lobbies, while investing in climate-resilient food systems.
Bold political action needed
This is not to say that technology has no role — all hands need to be on deck. But the innovations most worth pursuing are those that genuinely support more equitable and sustainable food systems, and not corporate profits. Unless scientific efforts are matched by policies that confront power and prioritize equity over profit, then hunger is likely to here to stay.
The solutions to hunger are neither new nor beyond reach. What’s missing is the political will to address its root causes.
This message is shared by my colleagues with the International Panel of Experts on Sustainable Food Systems, IPES-Food, whose work covers a range of expertise and experience. Hunger persists because we allow injustice to endure. If we are serious about ending it, we need bold political action, not just scientific breakthroughs.
Jennifer Clapp receives funding from the Canada Research Chairs program and the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. She is a member of the International Panel of Experts on Sustainable Food Systems (IPES-Food).
At a recent summit in Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania, leaders of eight African states released a statement calling for an immediate and unconditional ceasefire in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC).
The statement comes after a flareup in fighting in eastern DRC that has killed hundred and wounded thousands.
On Jan. 31, 2025 the rebel group known as the March 23 Movement (M23) captured the city of Goma in the eastern DRC. At a news conference, Corneille Nangaa, leader of the Congo River Alliance that includes M23, declared that they were there to stay and would march to the DRC’s capital of Kinshasa.
The World Health Organization reported 900 bodies had been recovered from the streets of Goma, with about 3,000 people injured and thousands forced to flee. The Congolese government said that it had started burying more than 2,000 people and thousands had been displaced.
On Feb. 4, 2025, the Congo River Alliance declared a ceasefire. This isn’t the first time M23 attacked Goma and then declared a ceasefire. The renewed violence is the latest in a long-running conflict in the region that has grown to involve local militias, regional countries and foreign companies seeking to exploit Congo’s mineral wealth.
However, a faction within the CNDP disapproved of the Goma agreement and created a militia group in 2012 that came to be known as M23. A United Nations group has said senior government officials from Rwanda and Uganda have provided M23 with weapons, intelligence and military support.
The roots of the conflict lie in the history of Belgium’s colonial rule of the region that pitted the Tutsi and Hutu ethnic groups against each other. In 1956, ethnic tensions in Rwanda forced many Tutsis to seek refuge in Congo (then Zaire), Uganda, Tanzania and beyond.
Tutsis who fled to Congo and Uganda were not accorded full citizenship rights, and this led to resentment.
In the mid-1990s, Rwandan President Paul Kagame and Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni collaborated with Congolese rebel leader Laurent-Désiré Kabila to create the AFDL. The group waged the First Congo War from October 1996 to May 1997 that ended with the overthrow of the DRC’s long-time ruler, Mobutu Sese Seko. Kabila became president.
Kagame and Museveni fought along with Congolese Tutsis to assert their citizenship once the war ended. However, when Kabila turned against his backers, it led to the waged Second Congo War from 1998 to 2003, with Rwandan and Ugandan-backed militas fighting against the DRC government.
The FDLR was implicated in orchestrating the 1994 Rwandan genocide that killed 800,000 people, most of whom were Tutsi. The FDLR has been based in eastern Congo since 1996, after the Rwandan Patriotic Front, led by Kagame and others, pushed them out of Rwanda.
Fear of the FDLR was one of the drivers for the First Congo War. In a recent interview with CNN, Kagame said:
“If you want to ask me, is there a problem in Congo that concerns Rwanda? And that Rwanda would do anything to protect itself? I’d say 100 per cent.”
Control of minerals
Before the fall of Goma in February 2025, M23 captured mineral-rich areas like Rubaya, the largest coltan mine in the Great Lakes region; Kasika and Walikale, where there are numerous gold mines; Numbi, which is rich with tin, tungsten, tantalum and gold; and Minova, which is a trade hub.
In December 2024, a UN expert group noted that M23 exported about 150 tonnes of coltan to Rwanda, and was involved with Rwanda’s production, leading to “the largest contamination of mineral supply chain.”
One of the central dynamics of this conflict is the control and profit from natural resources. The DRC is rich in minerals and metals needed around the world, including the critical minerals used in the technology and renewable energy industries.
The World Bank has noted that the “DRC is endowed with exceptional mineral resources.” However, administration of the sector is dysfunctional and handicapped by insufficient institutional capacity.
Ending the M23 insurgency requires taking Tutsi citizenship seriously. Politics researcher Filip Reyntjens has argued that any peaceful transition in the DRC needed to take regional countries seriously. He emphasized:
“By turning a blind eye to Rwanda’s hegemonic claims in eastern Congo, the future stability of the region remains in doubt. Rwanda may once again, in the not too distant future, become the focal point of regional violence.”
A factor contributing to the violence is the lack of measures to ensure ceasefires are respected by different parties engaged in conflicts. In addition, armed groups and their backers have not been effectively prosecuted. A 2010 UN mapping report describes 617 alleged war crimes, crimes against humanity and human rights between March 1993 and June 2003. No perpetrators have never been prosecuted.
Furthermore, there must be strong international efforts to prevent conflict minerals from getting into international supply chains. M23 and other militias smuggle Congo’s minerals through regional neighbours, where they are considered conflict-free.
Tech giants that rely on these minerals must do more to scrutinize where they come from. Equally, all of us, as consumers of products made from the DRC’s minerals, must demand accountability.
It’s usually only men who participate in such talks. Women, who endure the brutality of sexual violence and other human rights violations, must be represented in peace and security talks.
In his 2018 Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech, Congolese physician and human rights activist Dr. Dennis Mukwege noted that:
“What is the world waiting for before taking this into account? There is no lasting peace without justice. Yet, justice in not negotiable. Let us have the courage to take a critical and impartial look at what has been going on for too long in the Great Lakes region.”
To effectively respond to the plight of the people of eastern Congo will take more than situational and short-term intervention. National, regional and international parties must negotiate peaceful and just access to minerals. Peace and security in Congo will happen when sectarian and partisan politics is replaced with commitment to democracy, sovereignty and peoples’ well-being.
Evelyn Namakula Mayanja receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council Canada and Carleton University.
How might you make your mark on the world forever? Write a play more timeless than Shakespeare, or compose music to out-do Mozart, or score the winning goal in the next World Cup final, perhaps?
There’s an easier way of leaving an indelible mark on our planet. Just finish a soft drink and toss the can (and the remains of the chicken dinner that went with it), ditch last year’s impulse purchases from your wardrobe, resurface that old patio, upgrade your mobile phone … simply carry on with everyday life, that is, and you’ll likely leave a fascinating legacy. It might last a billion years.
We’re palaeontologists, and have spent our careers looking at the fossil record of the deep past, puzzling out how those magnificent animal and plant relics have been preserved as dinosaur bones, the carapaces of ancient crustaceans, lustrous spiralled ammonites, petrified flower petals and many more. Often they still have exquisite detail intact after millions of years.
We’ve now turned our attention to the myriad everyday objects that we make and use, to see what kind of future fossils – we call them technofossils – they will make. We’ve written about this in our new book, Discarded: how technofossils will be our ultimate legacy. Here are some key messages:
The first things that’ll catch the eye of any far-future palaeontologist are our manufactured objects – buildings, roads, machines and so on. In recent decades, they have rocketed in amount to over a trillion tonnes, to now outweigh all living things on Earth. That’s a lot of raw material for generating future fossils.
Then, most things we make are designed to be durable, to resist corrosion and decay, and are significantly tougher than the average bone or shell. Just from that they have a head start in the fossilisation stakes.
Many are new to the Earth. Discarded aluminium cans are everywhere, for instance, but to our planet, they’re a wondrous novelty, as pure aluminium metal is almost unknown in nature. In the past 70 years we’ve made more than 500 million tonnes of the stuff, enough to coat all of the US (and part of Canada) in standard aluminium kitchen foil.
What’s going to happen to it? Aluminium resists corrosion, but not forever. Buried underground in layers of mud and sand, a can will slowly break down, but often not before there’s a can-shaped impression in these new rocks, lined with microscopic clay crystals newly-grown out of the corroding aluminium.
Everyday items can be flushed onto a floodplain and be quickly buried under sediments. As they slowly degrade they may leave an impression on the soft muds and silts for future palaeontologists to puzzle over. Sarah Gabbott
Having been shielded from ultraviolet light, the thin plastic liner inside the can may endure too. (Oil-based plastic is even more novel in geological terms, being entirely non-existent until the 20th century). These two materials compressed side-by-side represent future fossil signatures of our time on Earth.
Billions of fossilised chicken thighs
But what about bones – the archetypal fossil relic? There will be many of these as future fossils, stark evidence of our species’ domination over others.
The standard supermarket chicken seems mundane. But it’s now by far the most common bird of all, making up about two-thirds of all bird biomass on Earth, and its abundance in life increases its fossilisation chances after death.
We stack the odds further by tossing the bones into a plastic bin-bag, that’s then carted to the landfill site to join countless more bones for burial in neatly engineered compartments – also plastic-lined. There, the bones will begin to mummify, another useful step in the road to petrifaction. Our landfills are giant middens of the future and will be stuffed full of the bones of this one species.
Geologists of the far future may conclude that chickens could only have existed thanks to a more intelligent species. dba87 / shutterstock
These bones – super-sized but weak, riddled with osteoporosis, sometimes fractured and deformed – will tell their own grisly story. Future geologists will puzzle over a suddenly-evolved bird so abundant yet so physically helpless. Will they figure out the story of a broiler chicken genetically
engineered to feed relentlessly to maximise weight gain, for slaughter just five or six weeks after hatching? We suspect the fossil evidence will be damning.
Fossilised fleeces
Fossilizeable fashion is also new. Humans have worn clothes for thousands of years, but archaeological clothes discoveries are rare, because made of natural fibres they are feasted on by clothes moths, microbes and other scavengers. Fossil fur and feathers are rare too, for the same reasons.
But cheap, cheerful and hyper-abundant polyester fashion is quite different. There’s no need for mothballs with these garments because synthetic plastics are indigestible to most microbes. How long might they last? Some ancient fossil algae have coats of plastic-like polymers, and these have lasted, beautifully preserved, for many millions of years.
Fossil clothes will surely perplex far-future palaeonologists, though: first to work out their shape from the crumpled and flattened remains, and then to work out what purpose they served. With throwaway fashion, we’re making some eternal puzzles.
Concrete and computers
The lumps of concrete from your old patio are not any old rocks. The recipe for concrete, involving furnace-baked lime, is rare on Earth (the minerals involved occasionally form in magma-baked rock), but humans have made it hyper-abundant. There are now more than half a trillion tonnes of concrete on Earth, mostly made since the 1950s – that’s a kilo per square metre averaged over the Earth. And concrete is hard-wearing even by geological standards: most of its bulk is sand and gravel, which have been survivors throughout our planet’s history.
There’s nothing old about computers and mobile phones, but they are based on the same element – silicon – that makes up the quartz (silicon dioxide) of sand and gravel. A fossilised silicon chip will be tricky to decipher, though: the semiconductors now packed on to them are just nanometres across, tinier than most mineral forms geologists analyse today.
But the associated paraphernalia, the burgeoning waste of keyboards, monitors, wiring, will form more obvious fossils. The patterns on these, like the QWERTY keyboard, resemble the fossil patterns seized upon by today’s palaeontologists as clues to ancient function. That would depend on the excavators, though: fossil keyboards would make more sense to hyper-evolved rats with five-fingered paws, say, than superintelligent octopuses of the far future.
It’s fun to conceptualise like this, and set the human story within the grand perspective of Earth’s history. But there’s a wider meaning. Tomorrow’s future fossils are today’s pollution: unsightly, damaging, often toxic, and ever more of a costly problem. One only has to look at the state of Britain’s rivers and beaches.
Understanding how fossilisation starts now helps us ask the right questions. When plastic trash is washed out to sea, will it keep travelling or become safely buried, covered by marine sediments? Will the waste in coastal landfill sites stay put, or be exhumed by the waves as sea level rises? The answers will be found in future rocks – but it would help us all to work them out now.
Sarah Gabbott is affiliated with Green Circle Nature Regeneration Community Interest Company 13084569.
Jan Zalasiewicz 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.
American president Donald Trump has issued an executive order to withdraw aid from South Africa. He was reacting to what he has called the South African government’s plan to “seize ethnic minority Afrikaners’ agricultural property without compensation”. Afrikaners are an ethnic and linguistic community of white South Africans whose home language is Afrikaans.
Trump’s action, amplified by provocative comments from billionaire Elon Musk, has reignited debate about the concept of “white victimhood”. We asked Nicky Falkof, who has researched the idea of white victimhood, for her insights.
What does ‘white victimhood’ mean?
White victimhood refers to a powerful set of beliefs that treats white people as special and different, but also as uniquely at risk. Within this narrative white people see themselves, and are sometimes seen by others, as extraordinary victims, whose exposure to violence or vulnerability is more concerning and important than anyone else’s.
White victimhood is usually speculative. It relates not to actual events that have happened, but to white people’s feelings of being threatened or unsafe. Entire political agendas develop around the idea that white people must be protected because they face exceptional threats, which are not being taken seriously by a contemporary world order that fails to value whiteness.
This is by no means particular to South Africa; we see it wherever whiteness is predominant. Indeed, ideas about white victimhood play a significant role in the popularity of Trump, whose call to “make America great again” harks back to an idealised past where white people (particularly men) could easily dominate the nation, the workplace and the home.
The South African case is important because it plays a central role in global white supremacist claims. These mythologies claim that white South Africans, specifically Afrikaners, are the canary in the coalmine: that the alleged oppression they are facing is a blueprint for what will happen to all white people if they don’t “fight back”.
What is its history?
We can trace this idea back to the start of the colonial project. In 1660 Dutch East India Company administrator Jan van Riebeeck planted a hedge of bitter almond shrubs to separate his trading station from the rest of South Africa’s Cape. This hedge was part of a defensive barrier intended to keep indigenous people out of the Dutch trading post, which had been built on top of ancient Khoikhoi grazing routes.
On a practical level, van Riebeeck’s hedge was meant to shield Dutch settlers and livestock from Khoikhoi raiders. On a philosophical level, the hedge situated the invaders as the “real” victims, who desperately needed protection from the violence and wildness of Africa. The bitter almond hedge is still seen as an enduring symbol of white supremacy in the country.
This early paranoia and securitisation has had a significant effect on white South African culture and anxiety. White people who can afford to do so barricade themselves in gated communities and boomed-off suburban streets, behind high walls topped with razor wire, on the assumption that they are the primary victims of South Africa’s crime rate.
In what ways has victimhood been used over the centuries or decades?
Ideas about white victimhood have played a role in many of South Africa’s most influential social formations.
The 1930s saw a major panic around “poor whites”, which led to commissions of inquiry, upliftment programmes and other attempts at social engineering. The people and institutions behind these initiatives weren’t concerned about poverty in South Africa in general, even though it was becoming more of a problem as the population urbanised. Their only interest was in poverty among white people, drawing on the assumption that it’s wrong or abnormal for white people to be poor, and that this needed to be urgently remedied.
These moves were not simply about philanthropy and offering better life chances to poor people; they were about protecting the boundaries of whiteness. Poor whites were seen as a threat to the establishment because they proved that whiteness wasn’t inherently superior.
More recently, the victimhood narrative has been a central part of the panic around farm murders and claims of “white genocide”, an old idea that has been popularised and spread online.
Rural violence is a huge problem in South Africa that deserves a strong response. But white people are far from its only casualties. Indeed, violent crime affects pretty much everyone in South Africa. When the deaths of white people are explained as part of a targeted genocide undertaken on the basis of race, the message is that they matter more than the deaths of everyone else.
Again, this suggests a kind of naturalisation of violence and harm. When terrible things happen to other people they simply happen and are not remarked on. It’s only when white people are affected that they become a pressing issue.
Has it helped white South Africans? Has it been effective as a mobilising tool?
White victimhood, like the racial anxiety it is part of, is not good for white people. It doesn’t keep them safer or help them to live better lives.
That said, it’s been quite effective as a mobilising tool. The apartheid-era National Party was skilled at using white fear for political gain. Its communications constantly played on white fears of the swart gevaar, the “black danger”, which encapsulated the powerful belief that whites were more at risk from black people than vice versa, despite all evidence to the contrary.
Similarly, contemporary organisations like the Afrikaner “minority rights” pressure group AfriForum and the Afrikaans trade union Solidarity activate and manipulate white people’s senses of extraordinary victimhood. This drives them further into a defensive position, where everything from farm murders and road name changes to the National Health Insurance bill is designed to attack them personally.
White support for these kinds of organisations and the political positions they espouse, whether overtly or covertly, is at least in part driven by the effective manipulation of white victimhood.
How effective is it still?
It remains disturbingly powerful. The architecture of white supremacy depends on the idea that white people are extraordinary victims. This is the driving notion beneath the great replacement theory, a far-right conspiracy theory claiming that Jews and non-white foreigners are plotting to “replace” whites. It also underpins violent reactions to the global migration crisis and the rise of populism in the north.
I don’t think it’s going too far to say that whiteness as a social construction is intrinsically tied to victimhood. The idea that whiteness actually makes people more rather than less vulnerable is likely to remain a central part of white people’s collective psychic imaginary for some time.
Nicky Falkof receives funding from the South African National Research Foundation.
With the endless stream of announcements, reversals, measures and countermeasures coming from the new administration of United States President Donald Trump, it has become difficult to make sense of what is just noise or opening negotiation offers and what constitutes actual policy change.
Unfortunately, in the case of the global response against HIV/AIDS, it seems the attacks go beyond bluster.
The methods used in the fight against HIV/AIDS have long been disputed, but overall commitment to the response was one of the few deeply bipartisan endeavours left, until now. Undercutting this decades-long consensus would mean endangering millions of lives.
U.S. role in global HIV/AIDS response
As a PhD candidate in international relations working on the politics of the response to HIV/AIDS, I am very aware of the central role that the U.S. has played in building and sustaining a global response to the epidemic in the past 25 years.
The U.S. is also a fundamental participant in HIV/AIDS research, including through the work of the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) and the National Institutes of Health (NIH), as well as USAID.
All of this involvement has already been dangerously jeopardized by the actions taken by the White House since Trump took office for his second term.
The chaos wrought by these measures has impacted the response to HIV/AIDS in deep ways, even if they may be contested or reversed by the courts and Congress.
The uncertainty in itself is damaging for programs that need reliable funding and long-term planning, not to mention the clinical trials that have been brutally interrupted. What’s more, there are indications the Trump administration and other Republicans have abandoned the longstanding commitment to the response itself, which may lead to irreparable damage.
American involvement in the global response to HIV/AIDS has long been shaped by domestic politics. Most notably, PEPFAR’s first rounds of funding were deeply constrained by the views of George W. Bush’s evangelical constituency, including in its focus on abstinence as prevention and denial of funding for sex workers.
The Heritage Foundation, the conservative think-tank behind the potential blueprint for Trump’s government known as Project 2025, has referred to HIV/AIDS as a lifestyle disease, like tobacco consumption. This language is reminiscent of the 1980s playbook of opponents on AIDS action and negates both the nature of the epidemic and the realities of those who live with the virus, casting doubts on the need to engage meaningfully with the response.
Most ominously, the last reauthorization of PEPFAR in 2024 was limited to one year instead of the customary five, as some Republican representatives sought to end it altogether. This means the entire program is to be re-examined this March with no guarantee of how the debates will unfold, especially in the current climate.
Ultimately most will depend on Congress, including the amount pledged by the U.S. to the Global Fund at its replenishment conference sometime this year.
Its decisions will be the real test of the depth of change on this matter, though everything that has unfolded so far hints at a far-reaching shattering of the consensus. If conservative Republicans maintain their pressure on PEPFAR, the program could be significantly diminished, and it is unlikely that a White House that withdrew from the World Health Organization on day one will act decisively to save it or insist on a sustained contribution to the Global Fund.
Consequences of U.S. disengagement
The consequences of a U.S. retreat from the global response to HIV/AIDS would be immense.
In the short-term, millions of people would lose access to the treatment they depend on for their survival. In the long term, shrinking American funding would undermine health systems around the world and risk the resurgence of the pandemic and the rise of resistant virus strains.
This would jeopardize 40 years of progress, returning us to a time when AIDS was considered a key security risk and threat to development.
Even if funding is maintained, all of this shows that for the next few years the U.S. is unlikely to be reliable. This means others will have to take up the leadership to ensure the worst-case scenario is avoided.
Among these, Canada could have a crucial role to play. It has long been a key entity in its own right — the seventh largest contributor to the Global Fund — though Ottawa has remained discreet in this area so far. Washington’s withdrawal from the field may force it to step into a more visible role and contribute to reframe Canada’s international involvement.
Yolaine Frossard de Saugy 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 Christopher Wolff, Associate Professor of Anthropology, University at Albany, State University of New York
Leola One Feather of the Oglala Sioux Tribe observes as Native American artifacts are photographed at the Founders Museum in Barre, Mass., in 2022, before their return.AP Photo/Philip Marcelo
As an archaeologist, you picture yourself traveling to some remote location, digging into the ground, and returning to a lab in a university or museum to study the remains of past civilizations, with hopes of answering important questions.
In contrast, I’ve often found myself working to return those remains to their rightful cultures. Repatriation is the process of returning ancestral human remains and important objects to descendant populations. Since the passing of the National Museum of the American Indian Act in 1989 and the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act in 1990, it has become an increasingly important part of archaeological practice, yet about 110,000 ancestors remain in collections.
This work is about more than legal obligations. To many researchers such as myself, it is a matter of human rights.
When first enacted, these laws were controversial among archaeologists. Much of this anxiety stemmed from worries about losing access to research opportunities. Some concerns were shaped by legal battles surrounding the remains of “Kennewick Man,” whom Indigenous people refer to as the “Ancient One.” This man’s remains were found in Washington state in 1996 and dated to over 8,000 years ago. Scientists won the legal right to study them, in opposition to local tribal nations’ requests, until a 2016 law returned the remains of the individual to those groups.
Over time, many archaeologists have seen that while repatriation requirements limit research in some ways, in others they have been beneficial and improved aspects of archaeologists’ relationships with Indigenous communities.
This is not an idea I was exposed to as a graduate student. Like many others in my field, I had virtually no exposure to the actual process of repatriation, even more than a decade after the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act, called NAGPRA, was signed into law. Rather, it is one that developed while I served as a repatriation archaeologist for the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History from 2009-2011, and in the following years as a professor of archaeology.
Dancers from the Haida Tribe perform at the Field Museum in Chicago in 2003, celebrating the return of Haida human remains to their descendants. AP Photo/M. Spencer Green
Careful process
Repatriation includes important steps that are required by law, as well as other ethical considerations. First, any human remains or objects that fall within certain categories – such as sacred objects, or funerary objects – should be stored where they can be properly cared for with respect. For instance, Indigenous groups may ask that tobacco be placed with the remains, as an offering to their ancestors’ spirits.
Researchers must compile information about these human remains into an itemized list containing the number of individuals and objects, brief descriptions of them, where they were found, and how they came into the institution’s possession. This list is then provided to representatives of communities that may be descendants, or possible living relatives.
If those communities decide to request the remains’ return, then the formal process of assessing “cultural affiliation” begins. This is a thorough analysis of any evidence demonstrating a connection between the remains or objects and a particular group today. Evidence can include many things, including physical characteristics of the human remains or objects, written documents, oral history, or distinct cultural attributes of the artifacts.
Legally, this process is required only for federally recognized Indigenous groups. However, institutions can choose to apply the same consideration to other communities if they believe it is appropriate, such as the hundreds of Indigenous groups that lack federal recognition.
The analysis is officially submitted to the national NAGPRA database, and a public notice is posted so that other interested parties could potentially make a claim on the remains or objects.
If researchers confirm there is a cultural affiliation, after a 90-day waiting period an official repatriation statement is filed with the national office. Researchers then consult with the requesting parties about how to conduct the physical return. What happens next is in the hands of the affiliated groups, and their wishes must be accommodated.
Kurt Riley, then the governor of the Pueblo of Acoma, speaks at the Smithsonian National Museum of the American Indian in 2016, protesting a French auction house’s plans to sell Indigenous artifacts. AP Photo/Andrew Harnik
Unfortunately, many remains have already suffered significant damage by the time repatriation begins. A great many of them have sat on shelves unstudied, sometimes for decades or longer – even those that came into the collection legally and in collaboration with Indigenous groups.
Powerful moment
One such individual was the key to a major shift in how I viewed repatriation – no longer as a research hindrance but as a question of human rights. Out of respect for the Indigenous nation, I cannot discuss specifics – only a broader picture of this “aha” moment.
One day at work, I found myself looking at an individual who had died several centuries ago, but was so well preserved that his death looked much more recent. It can be too easy to look at a collection of human bones and forget that they were once a living person, despite trying to teach students otherwise. However, that day I looked down and clearly saw a man: his face painted, his hair neatly done, earrings in his ears, laid out in a beautiful box.
Obviously, whoever tended to him after his death had taken great care, placing him in a sacred place where he had every expectation that he would be left undisturbed. He could not have perceived that centuries later someone would collect his remains and ship him away from his traditional lands to be studied in a museum.
That hit home for me. I would not want someone to go against my final wishes, or those of my family, and felt this man should have the same human rights I have in that regard.
I regret it took me so long to see that. Ever since, I’ve worked hard to make up for that by teaching my students to see the past full of people with expectations, hopes and emotions, and to extend ethical obligations to them as we would want applied to us. Archaeology is about learning from the past, and working in repatriation and meeting this individual provided me with one of the best lessons of my career.
Christopher Wolff 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.
An African journalist films President Xi Jinping delivering an opening ceremony speech for the China-Africa forum in Beijing in September 2024.AP Photo/Andy Wong
Every year, China’s minister of foreign affairs embarks on what has now become a customary odyssey across Africa. The tradition began in the late 1980s and sees Beijing’s top diplomat visit several African nations to reaffirm ties. The most recent visit, by Foreign Minister Wang Yi, took place in mid-January 2025 and included stops in Namibia, the Republic of the Congo, Chad and Nigeria.
For over two decades, China’s burgeoning influence in Africa was symbolized by grand displays of infrastructural might. From Nairobi’s gleaming towers to expansive ports dotting the continent’s shorelines, China’s investments on the continent have surged, reaching over US$700 billion by 2023 under the Belt and Road Initiative, China’s massive global infrastructure development strategy.
But in recent years, Beijing has sought to expand beyond roads and skyscrapers and has made a play for the hearts and minds of African people. With a deft mix of persuasion, power and money, Beijing has turned to African media as a potential conduit for its geopolitical ambitions.
Partnering with local outlets and journalist-training initiatives, China has expanded China’s media footprint in Africa. Its purpose? To change perceptions and anchor the idea of Beijing as a provider of resources and assistance, and a model for development and governance.
The ploy appears to be paying dividends, with evidence of sections of the media giving favorable coverage to China. But as someone researching the reach of China’s influence overseas, I am beginning to see a nascent backlash against pro-Beijing reporting in countries across the continent.
The media charm offensive
China’s approach to Africa rests mainly on its use of “soft power,” manifested through things like the media and cultural programs. Beijing presents this as “win-win cooperation” – a quintessential Chinese diplomatic phrase mixing collaboration with cultural diplomacy.
CGTN Africa, which was set up in 2012, offers a Chinese perspective on African news. The network produces content in multiple languages, including English, French and Swahili, and its coverage routinely portrays Beijing as a constructive partner, reporting on infrastructure projects, trade agreements and cultural initiatives. Moreover, Xinhua News Agency, China’s state news agency, now boasts 37 bureaus on the continent.
By contrast, Western media presence in Africa remains comparatively limited. The BBC, long embedded due to the United Kingdom’s colonial legacy, still maintains a large footprint among foreign outlets, but its influence is largely historical rather than expanding. And as Western media influence in Africa has plateaued, China’s state-backed media has grown exponentially. This expansion is especially evident in the digital domain. On Facebook, for example, CGTN Africa commands a staggering 4.5 million followers, vastly outpacing CNN Africa, which has 1.2 million — a stark indicator of China’s growing soft power reach.
China’s zero-tariff trade policy with 33 African countries showcases how it uses economic policies to mold perceptions. And state-backed media outlets like CGTN Africa and Xinhua are central to highlighting such projects and pushing an image of China as a benevolent partner.
Questions of media veracity notwithstanding, China’s strategy is bearing fruit. A Gallup poll from April 2024 showed China’s approval ratings climbing in Africa as U.S. ratings dipped. Afrobarometer, a pan-African research organization, further reports that public opinion of China in many African countries is positively glowing, an apparent validation of China’s discourse engineering.
Further, studies have shown that pro-Beijing media influences perceptions. A 2023 survey of Zimbabweans found that those who were exposed to Chinese media were more likely to have a positive view of Beijing’s economic activities in the country.
China’s foreign minister Wang Yi, center, holds hands with his counterparts, Senegal’s Yassine Fall, left, and the Republic of the Congo’s Jean-Claude Gakosso, after a joint news conference. AP Photo/Andy Wong
Co-opting local voices
The effectiveness of China’s media strategy becomes especially apparent in the integration of local media. Through content-sharing agreements, African outlets have disseminated Beijing’s editorial line and stories from Chinese state media, often without the due diligence of journalistic skepticism.
Ethiopia exemplifies how China’s infrastructure investments and media influence have fostered a largely favorable perception of Beijing. State media outlets, often staffed by journalists trained in Chinese-run programs, consistently frame China’s role as one of selfless partnership. Coverage of projects like the Addis Ababa-Djibouti railway line highlights the benefits, while omitting reports on the substandard labor conditions tied to such projects — an approach reflective of Ethiopia’s media landscape, where state-run outlets prioritize economic development narratives and rely heavily on Xinhua as a primary news source.
Beneath the surface of China’s well-publicized projects and media offerings, and the African countries or organizations that embrace Beijing’s line, a significant countervailing force exists that challenges uncritical representations and pursues rigorous journalism.
Yet as CGTN Africa and Xinhua become entrenched in African media ecosystems, a pertinent question comes to the forefront: Will Africa’s journalists and press be able to uphold their impartiality and retain intellectual independence?
As China continues to make strategic inroads in Africa, it’s a fair question.
Mitchell Gallagher 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 – UK – By Scott Lucas, Professor of International Politics, Clinton Institute, University College Dublin
As the deadline approaches for the end of phase one of the ceasefire deal between Israel and Hamas, the likelihood of the agreement making it to the scheduled second phase on March 1 look increasingly remote. Middle East expert, Scott Lucas, addresses the key questions.
What are the chances of the ceasefire holding into phase two?
Even before Donald Trump’s proposal for the clearing and redevelopment – what would amount to the ethnic cleansing – of Gaza, an agreement to move from phase one to phase two at the start of March was an increasingly remote possibility.
We almost did not have a first phase. Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu had held out against a deal for months, and he was under pressure from two hard-right ministers – finance minister Bezalel Smotrich and national security minister, Itamar Ben-Gvir – not to proceed.
In the end, Netanyahu acceded because of families seeking the return of their relatives held hostage by Hamas, and because of an approach by Trump’s envoy Steve Witkoff.
Smotrich stayed in the cabinet while Ben-Gvir left but his party said it would continue support for the government. However, both demanded that there be no second phase. They called instead military action to eradicate Hamas and the resettlement of the population of GAza – voluntary or otherwise.
In the next phase, the Israeli military is supposed to withdraw fully from Gaza while Palestinian governance is restored in the Strip. Israel and the US will demand that Hamas will leave power – indeed, the Israelis may call for Hamas leaders to leave the territory – and Hamas will refuse to do so.
Trump’s demand for an end of “occupation” of Gaza, not by the Israelis but by Gazans, confirmed the demise of the process. There is no chance that Hamas negotiators will agree to a “solution” in which most if not all residents are evicted.
That is why Trump, using the pretext of Hamas obstruction of phase one, stopped portraying himself as a “peacemaker” on Monday. Instead, he proclaimed: “All bets are off and let hell break out” — in effect, returning to a blank cheque for Israel’s military action, blockade of humanitarian aid, and mass killing across Gaza.
Is Donald Trump serious about redeveloping Gaza?
Many media outlets have been negligent in excusing Trump’s statements by saying alternatively that he is not serious or that he is “thinking outside the box” with his egregious statements.
Trump’s proposal for “development” of Gaza, clearing out the population, was not just a thought bubble. In his first term, he repeatedly spoke of North Korea’s “great beaches” and “waterfront property” as a prime location for condos and hotels. In March 2024, his son-in-law Jared Kushner turned to the Middle East, saying: “Gaza’s waterfront property could be very valuable… From Israel’s perspective I would do my best to move the people out and then clean it up.”
Last summer, the Trump team asked Joseph Pelzman, a professor of economic and international affairs at George Washington University to propose a plan for the Strip. He summarised: “You have to destroy the whole place, you have to restart from scratch … It requires that the place be completely emptied out. I mean, literally emptied out.”
Within a week of returning to the White House on January 20, Trump was telling reporters that Gaza’s civilians should be removed from the “demolition site”. Just over a week later, alongside Netanyahu, he expanded on the declaration – reportedly in a statement written by Kushner.
What about international law?
Trump’s proposal is a clear violation of international law. The Geneva conventions stipulate that civilians should not be transferred outside of their territory unless it is “impossible” to do otherwise.
UN spokesman Stéphane Dujarric told reporters: “Any forced displacement of people is tantamount to ethnic cleansing.”
But, the Trump administration does not appear to care about international law. Two days after his appearance with Netanyahu, Trump signed an executive order sanctioning the International Criminal Court.
Indeed, the administration does not believe it should face any legal oversight in the US. As Trump and Elon Musk attempt to destroy US agencies, with mass firings and seizure of records that may be unconstitutional and illegal, the US vice-president, J.D. Vance, maintains: “Judges aren’t allowed to control the executive’s legitimate power.” Trump, demanding the impeachment of a judge who ruled against the unauthorised access to records, said: “No judge should, frankly, be allowed to make that kind of a decision.”
Does the US have sufficient support to do this?
Absolutely not, especially if Trump tries to fulfil his declaration that the US should “own” Gaza. Apart from Israel, no country has given support to Trump’s proposal. And most Americans, even Trump backers, would be loath to have “ownership” which required intervention by US troops.
As for the countries Trump wants to send Palestinians to, they are vehement in their opposition. Within hours of Trump’s February 4 statement, he got a firm rebuttal from Saudi Arabia. Riyadh cited “the Kingdom’s firm and supportive positions on the rights of the Palestinian people” and reinforced its recent shift to “firm and unwavering” support of a Palestinian state.
The foreign ministry emphasised that this was the position of Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman and noted his phone call with King Abdullah of Jordan as a sign of solidarity.
After Netanyahu said the Saudis “have plenty of territory” for a Palestinian state, Riyadh denounced the “extremist, occupying mentality” that seeks to expel Palestinians from Gaza.
Egyptian foreign minister Badr Abdelatty told US secretary of state Marco Rubio on Monday in Washington that Arab states rejected Trump’s pitch. Abdelatty stressed the importance of Gaza’s reconstruction while Palestinians remained there.
And, on the eve of King Abdullah’s visit to Washington, Jordan expressed its “rejection of any attempts to annex land and displace the Palestinians”.
How do you see this developing in the foreseeable future?
Trump and the Israelis will now shift attention to Hamas as an existential threat who cannot be treated as a partner in a phase two ceasefire.
Phase one is due to expire on March 1. I predict that Israel will return to its open-ended war across Gaza, probably sooner than that.
And Trump, who only recently presented himself as a “peacemaker”, will give unconditional backing – while bemoaning that Gazans, up to 90% of them displaced from their homes, still won’t leave the Strip.
Scott Lucas 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 Dan Baumgardt, Senior Lecturer, School of Physiology, Pharmacology and Neuroscience, University of Bristol
She chain-smoked her way through romance and heart-break and binge-drank Chardonnay until it went out of fashion (and then came back in again) – and now Bridget Jones is back.
Mad about the Boy is the fourth and final film in the Bridget Jones series. It’s almost 30 years since Helen Fielding hit the bestseller lists with the accident-prone, self-deprecating eponymous heroine of Bridget Jones’s Diary. Tales of “emotional f-ckwits” and “really bloody enormous pants” resonated with readers and the film adaptations cemented Bridget Jones’s status as a well-loved character.
Fans of the original Bridget Jones’s Diary will remember her daily log of statistics. Many will have read the entries, listing calories, cigarettes and alcohol units consumed, with a nod of recognition. The alcohol-free diet that’s started with fierce determination one day descends into hungover calorific chaos the next. But is Bridget’s lifestyle as loveable in real life as it is on the page and screen?
Thanks to the handy summary about calorie intake, cigarette count and alcohol units at the end of the original diary, I’ve been able to take a closer look at what her lifestyle might mean in reality. On paper – and on screen – her lifestyle might look like the kind of smoking, drinking, break-up binge eating (and the occasional magic mushroom in Thailand) to which lots of readers and viewers can relate.
But even the book recognises that Bridget’s lifestyle isn’t sustainable, as it includes a warning and disclaimer. And, the relentless focus on weight and calorie consumption might be a reflection of the social pressure women face, but it’s also been criticised for its potential danger to some of its audience.
Smoking
In the original diary, Bridget’s cigarette count for the year is 5,277: around 14-15 a day. In clinical practice, we often standardise this in numbers of “pack-years” of smoking. One pack equals 20 cigarettes, so if you smoke 20 a day for one year, that makes one pack-year. In the case of Bridget, this makes approximately 0.75 pack-years.
You might think that figure doesn’t seem very high – but add the count from the following year in Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason, plus of all the years before it, and the pack-years start adding up and are more like five, seven, even ten.
The higher the number of pack-years exposure, the greater the risk of developing an associated disease or complication. For many years, a critical level of ten pack-years or more was associated with significant risk of developing a lung condition called COPD (chronic obstructive pulmonary disease), which ranges in severity and can lead to distressing symptoms including persistent coughing, wheezing and shortness of breath.
But patients with a history of less than ten pack-years exposure may also be at significant risk, which is why some argue this critical level should be lowered.
What kind of health issues could Bridget face after smoking so much for so long? Smoking is notorious for causing cancer, including lung, bladder, kidney and stomach cancers. Smoking also negatively affects cardiovascular health and fertility and causes gum disease and a variety of other health issues – the list is long.
Bridget logged her daily calorie count, but she was perhaps not a reliable narrator. Over the course of the year, she calculated that she’d consumed over 11 million calories. “Repulsive,” she states – and also highly unlikely. This total would equate to over 30,000 calories a day, approximately six to ten times more than most competing bodybuilders would consume.
By the end of Bridget Jones’s Diary, she had gained 5st 2lbs and lost 5st 3lbs, resulting in a net loss of a pound. So broadly speaking what went in, must have matched what energy was consumed. Her starting weight for the year is 9st 3lbs, and taking (for argument’s sake) Renée Zellweger’s 5f 4ins height that gives a body mass index (BMI) of 22.1 – right in the middle of the “normal” BMI range of 18.5 to 25.
Bridget’s daily weigh-in on the bathroom scale routine may have fed her preoccupation with minor fluctuations. Weight isn’t just a measure of fat, it’s also the body’s water and waste. Measuring weight less frequently is a more effective way to gauge the overall trend of whether weight is going up or down. ## Alcohol
“I WILL NOT drink more than 14 alcohol units a week,” Bridget writes in the opening of the original diary.
However, despite 114 hangover-free days, Bridget ends up with annual alcohol consumption of 3,836 units – that’s a weekly intake of around 74 units – much more than the maximum of 14 units recommended for both men and women.
Bridget recognises that she drinks too much and, as seen in her new year’s resolutions, often intends to cut back. In clinical practice, we use the Cage questions to help evaluate whether a patient has issues with alcohol. We might ask, for example, whether the person is annoyed by criticism of their drinking or feels guilty about it? Do they use alcohol as an “eye-opener” in the morning?
So while Bridget Jones may prove as endearing as ever to audiences this year – and her love life just as chaotic – it’s probably for the best that her lifestyle seems a bit healthier this time around. It would have been awful to have her story end with untimely death by Chardonnay.
Dan Baumgardt 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 Mahdi Bodaghi, Associate Professor of Smart Materials & Manufacturing, Nottingham Trent University
Flat-pack, but not as we know it. This is an AI image created by OpenAI’s Dall-E., CC BY-SA
Imagine buying a flat sheet from a furniture store that changes into a sofa when you heat it with a hairdryer. Or consider the value of a stent that precisely expands inside a patient’s artery, adapting to their unique anatomy.
Welcome to 4D printing, a frontier in material and manufacturing science that has been rapidly expanding over the past decade. While 3D printing has captured global attention for its ability to create objects layer by layer, 4D printing adds the element of time.
It involves 3D-printing adaptable objects from materials such as polymers or alloys that can bend, twist or transform entirely when they come into contact with heat or moisture. By moving beyond the constrictions of static designs, it opens up remarkable possibilities in areas such as medicine, aerospace, robotics and construction.
I was recently the lead author on a comprehensive report published in the journal of Smart Materials and Structures, charting the advances and challenges in this field. We outlined this industry’s potential, offering a vision of a future where smart materials redefine design and manufacturing.
Here are some more of the main fields in which 4D printing could be transformative:
1. Healthcare
Like the stent I mentioned earlier, 4D printing raises the possibility of creating implants and prosthetics that adapt to patients’ needs in real time. Research teams working on these innovations include the Biomet4D project, coordinated by the IMDEA Materials Institute in Madrid, which is developing smart, biodegradable metallic implants for people with seriously damaged or defective bones. The implants can change shape and expand as the bone grows, supporting it much more effectively than a static implant.
Another area of focus is smarter ways to give patients drugs. For example, a team of researchers based at China’s Jilin University have created 4D-printed hydrogel capsules whose outer structure stays intact inside a patient’s body until it reaches a particular temperature, such as when there is an infection, meaning the drug only takes effect when it’s required. This could be useful in situations where it’s beneficial to release a drug into a patient’s body at exactly the right time and location.
2. Robotics and wearables
Integrating 4D materials into robotics and wearable devices enables them to adjust their functionality in response to their environment. For instance, researchers at Harvard University’s Wyss Institute have developed self-folding robotic devices based on insights from origami that change shape when exposed to heat. One potential application could involve sending these devices to carry out tasks in environments that are difficult to reach, such as in deep seas or oceans.
Similarly, scientists at Deakin University in Australia are researching 4D-printing robotic joints with variable stiffness that can help with rehabilitation. For example, an arm could get stiffer when the user tries to pick something up, making it easier for them to lift it.
3. Exploring the cosmos
In the extreme conditions of space, adaptability is critical, so again there’s a role for 4D-printed materials. For instance, Nasa’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory uses 4D-printed metallic space fabrics.
These can fold, change shape and adapt to varying thermal and mechanical environments. This makes them suitable for a wide range of space applications, including shielding spacecraft from meteorites, insulating against extreme temperatures and conforming to uneven terrain on Jupiter’s smallest moon, the icy Europa.
Challenges and opportunities
The current capabilities of 4D printing are nothing short of remarkable, yet the field still faces significant challenges. While we can now create materials that transform with precision, there’s still more research required to ensure they’re biologically safe and durable for the long term.
Also, scaling up production to meet industrial demands, particularly for high-resolution designs or nanoscale structures, requires not just new techniques but also new ways of thinking about manufacturing. Cost is another barrier – specialised materials and processes can often prove too expensive at present for widespread use.
And yet, the promise of 4D printing is tantalising. One of the big attractions is in sustainability. From water pipes that adjust flow rates to buildings that self-regulate carbon dioxide levels, 4D printing creates the potential for adaptive systems that help in this area. A prime example is the Solar Gate, developed by the University of Stuttgart’s Institute for Computational Design and Construction.
Inspired by the way that pine cones open in response to sunlight, the gate consists of a series of 4D-printed cellulose flaps that can be installed into buildings to open and close in response to certain levels of humidity and temperature. They curl upwards in winter to allow heat in, and flatten in the summer to block direct sunlight. It demonstrates how a building can be made more energy efficient without relying on an external source of power for, say, air conditioning.
Meanwhile, artificial intelligence is already accelerating progress by optimising the design and behaviour of 4D-printed objects. It is helping researchers to have more precise control over how these smart materials respond under different conditions, without having to rely so much on trial and error.
This is still a young industry, with limited venture capital investment and a workforce that is only beginning to take shape. But as more research institutions and companies recognise its potential, the pace of innovation should quicken. According to one report, the sector is due to grow at around 35% a year over the next five years.
We are now developing structures that recover or change their shape on demand at the 4D materials and printing laboratory at Nottingham Trent University and the 4D Printing Society. For example, we’ve already 4D-printed medical stents that can self-expand in response to body temperature (see images below).
We’re also developing materials for boat fenders and car bumpers whose shape can be restored by adding heat, as a way of removing dents, as well as shape-adaptive finger splints for broken bones, and self-assembling, extra-comfortable furniture.
So, the next time you marvel at the capabilities of 3D printing, remember: the future lies in 4D printing, where materials come alive and redefine the possibilities of tomorrow.
Mahdi Bodaghi 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.
How might you make your mark on the world forever? Write a play more timeless than Shakespeare, or compose music to out-do Mozart, or score the winning goal in the next World Cup final, perhaps?
There’s an easier way of leaving an indelible mark on our planet. Just finish a soft drink and toss the can (and the remains of the chicken dinner that went with it), ditch last year’s impulse purchases from your wardrobe, resurface that old patio, upgrade your mobile phone … simply carry on with everyday life, that is, and you’ll likely leave a fascinating legacy. It might last a billion years.
We’re palaeontologists, and have spent our careers looking at the fossil record of the deep past, puzzling out how those magnificent animal and plant relics have been preserved as dinosaur bones, the carapaces of ancient crustaceans, lustrous spiralled ammonites, petrified flower petals and many more. Often they still have exquisite detail intact after millions of years.
We’ve now turned our attention to the myriad everyday objects that we make and use, to see what kind of future fossils – we call them technofossils – they will make. We’ve written about this in our new book, Discarded: how technofossils will be our ultimate legacy. Here are some key messages:
The first things that’ll catch the eye of any far-future palaeontologist are our manufactured objects – buildings, roads, machines and so on. In recent decades, they have rocketed in amount to over a trillion tonnes, to now outweigh all living things on Earth. That’s a lot of raw material for generating future fossils.
Then, most things we make are designed to be durable, to resist corrosion and decay, and are significantly tougher than the average bone or shell. Just from that they have a head start in the fossilisation stakes.
Many are new to the Earth. Discarded aluminium cans are everywhere, for instance, but to our planet, they’re a wondrous novelty, as pure aluminium metal is almost unknown in nature. In the past 70 years we’ve made more than 500 million tonnes of the stuff, enough to coat all of the US (and part of Canada) in standard aluminium kitchen foil.
What’s going to happen to it? Aluminium resists corrosion, but not forever. Buried underground in layers of mud and sand, a can will slowly break down, but often not before there’s a can-shaped impression in these new rocks, lined with microscopic clay crystals newly-grown out of the corroding aluminium.
Everyday items can be flushed onto a floodplain and be quickly buried under sediments. As they slowly degrade they may leave an impression on the soft muds and silts for future palaeontologists to puzzle over. Sarah Gabbott
Having been shielded from ultraviolet light, the thin plastic liner inside the can may endure too. (Oil-based plastic is even more novel in geological terms, being entirely non-existent until the 20th century). These two materials compressed side-by-side represent future fossil signatures of our time on Earth.
Billions of fossilised chicken thighs
But what about bones – the archetypal fossil relic? There will be many of these as future fossils, stark evidence of our species’ domination over others.
The standard supermarket chicken seems mundane. But it’s now by far the most common bird of all, making up about two-thirds of all bird biomass on Earth, and its abundance in life increases its fossilisation chances after death.
We stack the odds further by tossing the bones into a plastic bin-bag, that’s then carted to the landfill site to join countless more bones for burial in neatly engineered compartments – also plastic-lined. There, the bones will begin to mummify, another useful step in the road to petrifaction. Our landfills are giant middens of the future and will be stuffed full of the bones of this one species.
Geologists of the far future may conclude that chickens could only have existed thanks to a more intelligent species. dba87 / shutterstock
These bones – super-sized but weak, riddled with osteoporosis, sometimes fractured and deformed – will tell their own grisly story. Future geologists will puzzle over a suddenly-evolved bird so abundant yet so physically helpless. Will they figure out the story of a broiler chicken genetically
engineered to feed relentlessly to maximise weight gain, for slaughter just five or six weeks after hatching? We suspect the fossil evidence will be damning.
Fossilised fleeces
Fossilizeable fashion is also new. Humans have worn clothes for thousands of years, but archaeological clothes discoveries are rare, because made of natural fibres they are feasted on by clothes moths, microbes and other scavengers. Fossil fur and feathers are rare too, for the same reasons.
But cheap, cheerful and hyper-abundant polyester fashion is quite different. There’s no need for mothballs with these garments because synthetic plastics are indigestible to most microbes. How long might they last? Some ancient fossil algae have coats of plastic-like polymers, and these have lasted, beautifully preserved, for many millions of years.
Fossil clothes will surely perplex far-future palaeonologists, though: first to work out their shape from the crumpled and flattened remains, and then to work out what purpose they served. With throwaway fashion, we’re making some eternal puzzles.
Concrete and computers
The lumps of concrete from your old patio are not any old rocks. The recipe for concrete, involving furnace-baked lime, is rare on Earth (the minerals involved occasionally form in magma-baked rock), but humans have made it hyper-abundant. There are now more than half a trillion tonnes of concrete on Earth, mostly made since the 1950s – that’s a kilo per square metre averaged over the Earth. And concrete is hard-wearing even by geological standards: most of its bulk is sand and gravel, which have been survivors throughout our planet’s history.
There’s nothing old about computers and mobile phones, but they are based on the same element – silicon – that makes up the quartz (silicon dioxide) of sand and gravel. A fossilised silicon chip will be tricky to decipher, though: the semiconductors now packed on to them are just nanometres across, tinier than most mineral forms geologists analyse today.
But the associated paraphernalia, the burgeoning waste of keyboards, monitors, wiring, will form more obvious fossils. The patterns on these, like the QWERTY keyboard, resemble the fossil patterns seized upon by today’s palaeontologists as clues to ancient function. That would depend on the excavators, though: fossil keyboards would make more sense to hyper-evolved rats with five-fingered paws, say, than superintelligent octopuses of the far future.
It’s fun to conceptualise like this, and set the human story within the grand perspective of Earth’s history. But there’s a wider meaning. Tomorrow’s future fossils are today’s pollution: unsightly, damaging, often toxic, and ever more of a costly problem. One only has to look at the state of Britain’s rivers and beaches.
Understanding how fossilisation starts now helps us ask the right questions. When plastic trash is washed out to sea, will it keep travelling or become safely buried, covered by marine sediments? Will the waste in coastal landfill sites stay put, or be exhumed by the waves as sea level rises? The answers will be found in future rocks – but it would help us all to work them out now.
Sarah Gabbott is affiliated with Green Circle Nature Regeneration Community Interest Company 13084569.
Jan Zalasiewicz 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.
Director Gia Coppola’s The Last Showgirl captures the bittersweet reality of a dreamer who has given everything to a career that will never love her back.
Pamela Anderson’s Shelley has devoted the past 30 years of her life to the Las Vegas revue Le Razzle Dazzle, a show she proudly describes as embodying “breasts and rhinestones and joy”. But as the show’s run comes to an end, Shelley is forced to confront an uncertain future, aged out of the career she so desperately loves.
Shelley is a woman out of time. From her pink Motorola Razr phone to her disbelief at the rising price of lemons, she clings to a romanticised vision of the showgirl as an ambassador of Las Vegas glamour.
But as Le Razzle Dazzle prepares to close and her co-stars, Jodie (Kiernan Shipka) and Mary-Anne (Brenda Song), audition for raunchier, neo-burlesque-inspired productions, both Shelley and the audience question whether the traditional showgirl still has a place in today’s cultural landscape.
The Last Showgirl explores the multifaceted nature of womanhood, offering an intimate portrait of the women of Las Vegas. It peeks into dressing rooms where, among tables scattered with false eyelashes and stray rhinestones, a performer struggles to balance single motherhood, her cultivated show community and a dream that may no longer have space for her.
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As the last traditional showgirl revue on the Vegas strip, Jubilee! was a tribute to glamour and femininity. Jubilee!’s costume designers were Bob Mackie and Pete Menefee, and their original designs also feature in the film. They’re adorned with brightly coloured feathers and shimmering rhinestones so extravagant that they once caused an international Swarovski shortage.
In The Last Showgirl, these archival Jubilee! costumes become characters in their own right. Their opulent feathers and dazzling crystals create a spectacle on screen, embodying the larger-than-life fantasy of the showgirl.
As the title card plays, we see close-ups of the craftsmanship behind the showgirl aesthetic – hands caressing plumes, rich fabrics and expanses of rhinestones.
The Pamela renaissance
The true star of the film, however, is the woman whose performance shines brighter than the crystals she is adorned in. Anderson’s portrayal of Shelley cuts to the heart of the character, imbuing her with vulnerability that transcends the glittering surface of the showgirl persona.
The Last Showgirl trailer.
The Last Showgirl marks Anderson’s first leading film role since the critically panned 1996 film Barb Wire, which earned her a Golden Razzie nomination for worst actress.
The casting of Anderson as Shelley feels almost kismet. One of the most notable sex symbols of our time, Anderson has recently undergone a cultural renaissance. This has been driven by the Hulu series Pam and Tommy (2022), which focused on the nonconsensual release of Anderson and her then-partner musician Tommy Lee’s sex tape (the series was ironically made without her consent).
But also Anderson’s own work in the 2023 Netflix documentary Pamela, A Love Story and her memoir, Love, Pamela, which was released the same year.
Anderson’s status as a sex symbol frequently stripped her of autonomy. In Love, Pamela, she states that she views her multiple appearances in Playboy as “an honour”, but also acknowledges that they’ve led some to treat her without respect.
She recalls being told in a deposition regarding her sex tape that she had “no right to privacy because I’d appeared in Playboy”. Both Anderson and Shelley refuse to be shamed for embodying feminine sexuality.
Subverting the showgirl
While The Last Showgirl paints a bleak image of the future of traditional Las Vegas revue, real burlesque dancers like Dita Von Teese offer a modernised alternative. Their performances honour showgirl glamour while breaking restrictive industry norms.
Performing at 52 – a similar age to Shelley – Von Teese invited 63-year-old retired showgirl Paula Nyland to perform on stage in the latest season of the Netflix show, Queer Eye. On the show, she explains: “We have to evolve and change and get rid of some of the unpleasant rules like height requirements, age requirements … I look to women older than me that can be examples of beauty and glamour.”
Perhaps, we could imagine an alternate timeline where Shelley finds a new home in Von Teese’s modernised showgirl revue, one that honours the glamour of the past while embracing a more inclusive future.
While The Last Showgirl paints a melancholic portrait of an ageing performer left behind by a changing industry, performers like Von Teese suggest that the showgirl can evolve rather than disappear. In a different version of Shelley’s story, she might have found a stage where rhinestones still sparkle, but the rules no longer dictate who gets to wear them.
Daisy McManaman 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.
