The US President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief has been a cornerstone of global HIV/Aids prevention, care and treatment for over two decades. Pepfar has enjoyed broad bipartisan support in the US, but its future is now uncertain. Public health scholars Eric A. Friedman, Sarah A. Wetter and Lawrence O. Gostin explain Pepfar’s history and impacts, as well as what may lie ahead.
The early years
Many people today have forgotten the sheer devastation that the Aids pandemic wrought on the African continent, first spreading widely in east Africa in the 1980s. By the end of the 20th century, life expectancy in the region had decreased from 64 to 47 years.
Millions of children were infected and many grew up as orphans, with HIV taking the life of one or both of their parents. Children, especially girls, were taken out of school to nurse sick relatives or because school fees were unaffordable.
Underfunded health systems were near collapse, as were the economies of many African countries.
These devastating figures persisted despite the discovery of highly effective antiretroviral therapies in the 1990s. These drugs rapidly became widely available in rich countries, beginning in 1996, leading to an 84% decline in death rates over four years.
But cost kept the drugs out of reach for African countries.
Only about 100,000 of the 20 million people infected with HIV in Africa were accessing drug treatment in 2003.
The turnaround
A major breakthrough came when US president George W Bush proposed a bold global initiative, Pepfar, in his 2003 State of the Union Address. Pepfar would dedicate US$15 billion over five years with the goals of preventing 7 million new infections, treating 2 million people, and caring for another 10 million infected with HIV or orphaned by the disease.
By 2005, more than 800,000 people were being treated for HIV in Africa – an eightfold increase from only two years prior. Under Pepfar, the costs of antiretroviral treatment per person per year in low- and middle-income countries fell from US$1,200 in 2003 to just US$58 in 2023.
Pepfar maintained bipartisan support throughout both Democratic and Republican-led administrations and Congresses. Through 2018, it had been reauthorised three times, each for five years.
The programme has lived up to its promise. The investment of over US$110 billion since being launched has been transformative, with sub-Saharan Africa benefiting the most.
Its importance extends beyond Aids. The programme directly supports more than 340,000 health workers, a tremendous contribution in Africa especially, given severe health worker shortages in much of the continent.
A key member of Congress, along with organisations against abortion, raised concerns that Pepfar was supporting abortions, even though there was no such evidence at the time. In fact, by law Pepfar is prohibited from supporting abortions.
Ever since then, the threats posed to a five-year Pepfar reauthorisation have grown.
The Trump effect
In January, Pepfar reported to Congress that its own investigators had found that four nurses in Mozambique had used Pepfar funding to perform abortions (which are legal in Mozambique), 21 in all. Pepfar officials froze funds to the four nurses and required staff to attest to understanding that they were prohibited from providing abortion as part of US-funded health services.
Days later Pepfar, along with most other US foreign assistance programmes, suffered a severe blow. President Donald Trump signed an executive order pausing all further disbursements and new obligations of foreign assistance funds for 90 days, pending a sweeping review.
Four days later, secretary of state Marco Rubio issued a directive that went even further, also requiring organisations to stop work, even those that had already received funds needed to operate.
By 27 January, virtually all US foreign assistance programmes had come to a halt, including Pepfar programmes.
Following an outcry, Rubio issued a waiver for lifesaving humanitarian assistance on 28 January. With confusion over what was covered, including whether the waiver encompassed HIV medicines, he issued another waiver on 1 February, covering Pepfar treatment and care programmes, including prevention of and treatment for TB and other opportunistic infections, as well as prevention of mother-to-child transmission programmes.
But organisations receiving US foreign assistance funds needed to get individual approval to resume, and the administration had put much of USAid’s staff on administrative leave. USAid (along with the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention) has a central role in administering Pepfar. Many others, including contractors embedded in USAid operations, have been furloughed or fired.
Very few people existed to process requests to resume work. Furthermore, USAid’s payment system appeared not to be working.
The decisions of the Trump administration are being challenged in court in the US on the grounds that they are illegal and unconstitutional because they are usurping Congress’s power to determine how the US government spends funds, among other violations of the law.
Nonetheless, as of this writing, despite a court order to resume funding, it remains entirely frozen, and most programmes are still shut down. The day after the court ordered the government to pay nearly US$2 billion it owes organisations for work already done, the administration revealed that it had terminated the vast majority of foreign assistance awards, including some for Pepfar. Details have not been made public. Meanwhile, the US Supreme Court put a short-term pause on the lower court’s order to immediately pay the money already owed.
The impact
The impact has been immediate. People on HIV treatment could not pick up additional medicine, leading to treatment interruption. Pepfar-funded health services had to turn away patients. Health workers supported by Pepfar, among them 40,000 in Kenya, could no longer be paid.
Many organisations that relied on Pepfar funds also had to lay off staff. Community groups have been affected and many have suspended their services entirely.
It remains unclear what the future holds – how severe the cuts will be, and to what programmes. In the near term, much depends on the courts and whether the administration implements court orders, as it has yet to do. In the longer term, Congress could seek to resume Pepfar to its former strength, though this would mean acting against the administration’s wishes. Even then, it is not clear whether the administration would spend the money allocated, and the damage already done to Pepfar programmes and trust in the US government will not be repaired quickly.
Pepfar is currently funded at US$7.5 billion annually. It accounts for over 10% of all US foreign assistance and over half of US global health assistance.
The separate Pepfar waiver suggests the deepest support for Pepfar is for HIV treatment programmes, as well as others meant to be protected under the waiver. Barring vast cuts to foreign assistance and Pepfar, these programmes are most likely to be at least spared, though the administration has terminated even some grants that had been covered by the waiver.
Other Pepfar programmes, particularly with respect to HIV prevention, are most vulnerable.
Rethinking priorities
The vulnerability of different African countries to Pepfar cuts varies widely. Some fund most of their own HIV programmes. South Africa’s HIV programmes are 74% domestically funded, with the balance coming from Pepfar (17%) and the Global Fund (7%).
But Pepfar funding accounts for about 90% of all HIV funding in Tanzania and Côte d’Ivoire, and more than half of HIV medicines purchased for the Democratic Republic of Congo, Mozambique and Zambia are purchased by the US.
If there are significant Pepfar funding cuts, it is doubtful that other wealthy countries will be able to compensate. And because the US, through Pepfar, is the largest contributor to the Global Fund, it is unlikely that the Global Fund could fill the gap either.
Under these circumstances, unless countries increase their domestic HIV spending, the dramatic progress in combating HIV/Aids in Africa could begin to become undone.
The conversation in Africa must focus on ending reliance on foreign assistance and developing resilient financing mechanisms to continue the fight to end Aids.
Lawrence O. Gostin is Director of the WHO Collaborating Center on Global Health Law
Eric Friedman and Sarah Wetter do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Africa has 38 coastal and island nations. Their maritime industries – including energy, tourism, maritime transport, shipping and fishing – play a crucial role in developing these nations.
Key to harnessing these resources are Africa’s maritime boundaries – lines on a map showing the legal divisions of the ocean between neighbouring coastal states.
Some of these boundaries were created by colonial powers and kept after independence. Their purpose was to achieve territorial security and ensure the exclusive exploitation of resources and to maintain navigational freedom.
But Africa’s maritime boundaries sometimes lead to conflict, prevent cooperation on resource management and create room for maritime crimes, like illegal fishing. This is because they are often contested. Countries have overlapping claims and varying interests in resource exploration. This is common in maritime areas rich in oil, gas and fisheries, and deep seabed resources.
In our recent paper we found that using international law to resolve maritime boundaries does not always bring peace, especially when it results in ceding the disputed area to one party. It can result in animosity between countries and breed room for continued distrust among peoples.
Today, Africa has the most unresolved maritime boundary disputes in the world and the lowest number of settled boundary disputes.
As more ocean resources are discovered, climate change may heighten disputes. Rising sea levels can gradually submerge maritime zones, potentially affecting the baselines from which these zones are measured. This could create uncertainty or trigger new conflicts.
In our paper, we suggest a collaborative approach to resolving maritime disputes. We hope that this will help prevent many African countries from missing out on the benefits of their oceans.
Price of disputed boundaries
Disagreements over maritime boundaries can have many negative effects.
Research has shown that criminal activities tend to increase in disputed maritime boundaries. For instance, illegal fishers are aware that because there is dispute over a border, there will also be enforcement gaps.
Countries in dispute will also not work together and will not be sending patrols to contested areas. For instance, in 2016, a Chinese vessel escaped into Sierra Leone to avoid capture. When Guinean naval forces boarded the vessel for enforcement, there was an exchange of fire and 11 Guineans were detained by Sierra Leone.
When boundaries are disputed, it also means that local fishers are likely to encroach into neighbouring waters, often unknowingly, in search of better catches. Given the significance of fisheries to coastal livelihoods and the extent of depletion, this threatens peace and security. It fuels tension between communities and countries over access to dwindling resources.
Disagreements over maritime boundaries also diminish maritime security cooperation, complicate joint patrols, and divert attention from tackling shared threats such as piracy.
Colonialism never ended
Unfortunately, resolving maritime boundary disputes is complicated by a principle in international law known as uti possidetis juris – “as you possess under law”.
The principle says that when countries argue over borders, international law, built around colonial-era boundaries, is used to decide who gets what. This creates a “winner-takes-all” approach – one side gains control over the disputed area and resources. International courts, like the International Court of Justice and the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea, follow the provisions of law reinforcing uti possidetis.
Our examination of maritime boundary disputes in west and central Africa found that the principle of uti possidetis juris had failed to alleviate maritime boundary tensions. In some cases, it has exacerbated them.
One example is a maritime dispute between Cameroon and Nigeria decided in 2002. The dispute was over who had control of Bakassi, an oil-rich region, and its maritime frontier.
The uti possidetis juris principle upheld the lines drawn at the time of Nigeria’s independence and resulted in the ceding of Bakassi to Cameroon. The impact of the resolution lingers. To date, thousands of displaced Bakassi people that returned to Nigeria have yet to be resettled and reintegrated. Disputes also continue between fishers from Nigeria and Cameroonian law enforcement agents. In extreme cases, it results in death, like the alleged killing of 97 Nigerian fishers by Cameroonian marine police.
The way forward
In our paper, we recommend that courts, tribunals or disputing countries consider joint management agreements to resolve maritime disputes. Under such agreements, countries share and manage disputed maritime resources.
These agreements will allow for the joint management of shared resources. It will also encourage cooperation and collaboration in other areas, such as joint operations to combat illegal fishing and piracy. While international courts may apply uti possidetis juris as required by law, countries should be encouraged to negotiate special arrangements – such as joint development agreements – as part of the resolution process. Especially in cases where livelihoods and longstanding community ties risk being disrupted by unilateral decisions or the ceding of disputed areas to one party.
Prolonged boundary disputes only enable criminal actors to exploit Africa’s resources, undermining collective progress. A shift towards collaborative solutions is essential for achieving a sustainable and prosperous future for the continent.
Ifesinachi Okafor-Yarwood receives funding from the PEW Charitable Trust and the Research Council of Norway. The St Andrews Research Internship Scheme (StARIS) supported the initial peer-reviewed research.
Elizabeth Nwarueze 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.
Invermay man charged with firearms and drug offences
Saturday, 5 July 2025 – 10:13 am.
A man has been charged with multiple firearms and drug offences after police seized two illegal firearms, ammunition, a stolen vehicle and a quantity of drugs in a search in Bridgenorth. Police attended and searched an address in Bridgenorth on Thursday 3 July while investigating reports that two vehicles, a grey Mitsubishi Outlander and a red Mitsubishi Mirage, had been stolen from the residence. Subsequent investigations led to a person of interest being located and arrested a short time later. During the search and arrest police located a .22 rifle, a loaded pistol, ammunition, one of the stolen vehicles (Mitsubishi Outlander), and a quantity of illicit drugs. The 39-year-old Invermay man was arrested and has since been charged with multiple offences including breaches of bail, drug and firearm offences, and resisting arrest. He was detained to appear in court at a later date. Anyone with information about the outstanding stolen vehicle, a red Mitsubishi Mirage (registration D28SU), is urged to contact police on 131 444 or Crime Stoppers anonymously at 1800 333 000 or online at crimestopperstas.com.au. Please quote OR779172.
Source: People’s Republic of China – State Council News
China has intensified its efforts to build a disaster prevention and control system for droughts and floods in response to more extreme weather events brought about by global warming, officials said on Friday.
“The global trend of climate warming is evident with China being a region sensitive to changes and significantly impacted. In recent years, more frequent, intense and widespread extreme weather events have led to more abrupt, severe and abnormal disasters such as heavy rainfall, floods and droughts,” Chen Min, vice-minister of water resources, said at a news conference in Beijing.
As of 8 am on Friday, a total of 329 rivers have reported water levels exceeding flood control alert thresholds, with extreme heavy downpours leading to disasters such as mountain floods, landslides and urban waterlogging in certain areas, Chen said.
In response to new circumstances, China unveiled guidelines last month ahead of the country entering the main flood season, proposing accelerated construction of a new pattern for flood control and disaster reduction in the river basins by adhering to the principles of putting people first and emphasizing systematic and bottom-line thinking. The guidelines also indicated that China aims to significantly improve flood control capabilities by 2035, with a modernized river basin flood control and disaster reduction system largely in place.
With the entire country entering this year’s main flood season, characterized by regional and sequential occurrences of droughts and flood disasters, Chen stressed that the ministry has ramped up efforts to prevent casualties, dam collapses and breaches in vital embankments, as well as minimize the impact on critical infrastructure.
Efforts have been made to prioritize synergy between river basins and regions, along with the integration of engineering and nonengineering solutions, aimed at improving resilience to climate change and strengthening preparedness for extreme rainstorms.
This includes optimizing flood control engineering system encompassing reservoirs, river channels, embankments and flood detention areas, as well as strengthening the active control capacity over floods by comprehensively utilizing measures such as flood storage, flood detention, flood discharge and flood drainage.
“The country has made overall plans for the construction of water networks, which include major projects targeting at flood control and water supply in the river basins,” said Zhang Xiangwei, director of the ministry’s planning department.
Zhang cited that the newly established 24 large-scale reservoirs, including the Datengxia water resources management facility in the Pearl River Basin and the Dashimen facility in the Xinjiang Uygur autonomous region, have collectively increased water supply ability of 3.46 billion cubic meters and flood control capacity by 2.66 billion cubic meters. Moreover, the ongoing construction of 31 water basin flood control projects and key water resources projects is expected to raise an additional 4.9 billion cubic meters of water supply capacity and 3.67 billion cubic meters of the flood control capacity.
Acknowledging the importance of major conservancy projects on river management, Guan Xifan, an official of the rural economy department of the National Development and Reform Commission, said central investment will be put in place in a timely manner to ensure the project’s construction, and efforts will be made on maintenance to promote their long-term stability.
The importance of employing a digital twin hydraulic system was emphasized by Chen in enhancing the coordinated management of these engineering solutions. This system enables the dynamic simulation of flood scenarios, continual refinement of scheduling plans, and the coordination of flood control engineering systems in a systematic, scientific, secure and precise manner.
In addition, Chen emphasized the need for an enhanced monitoring and forecasting system for rainfall, as well as an optimized distribution of meteorological and hydrological monitoring stations. This will help improve rainfall forecasts, early warnings, simulations and contingency planning, thereby extending the lead time for forecasting and improving the accuracy of flood disaster predictions.
Specifically, the country’s hydrological monitoring stations have increased from 70,000 in 2012 to 130,000 this year, with flooding forecast precision exceeding 90 percent for major rivers in the south and 70 percent for major rivers in the north, Wang Baoen, vice-minister of water resources, said in a recent interview with Outlook Weekly news magazine.
Source: People’s Republic of China – State Council News
China has intensified its efforts to build a disaster prevention and control system for droughts and floods in response to more extreme weather events brought about by global warming, officials said on Friday.
“The global trend of climate warming is evident with China being a region sensitive to changes and significantly impacted. In recent years, more frequent, intense and widespread extreme weather events have led to more abrupt, severe and abnormal disasters such as heavy rainfall, floods and droughts,” Chen Min, vice-minister of water resources, said at a news conference in Beijing.
As of 8 am on Friday, a total of 329 rivers have reported water levels exceeding flood control alert thresholds, with extreme heavy downpours leading to disasters such as mountain floods, landslides and urban waterlogging in certain areas, Chen said.
In response to new circumstances, China unveiled guidelines last month ahead of the country entering the main flood season, proposing accelerated construction of a new pattern for flood control and disaster reduction in the river basins by adhering to the principles of putting people first and emphasizing systematic and bottom-line thinking. The guidelines also indicated that China aims to significantly improve flood control capabilities by 2035, with a modernized river basin flood control and disaster reduction system largely in place.
With the entire country entering this year’s main flood season, characterized by regional and sequential occurrences of droughts and flood disasters, Chen stressed that the ministry has ramped up efforts to prevent casualties, dam collapses and breaches in vital embankments, as well as minimize the impact on critical infrastructure.
Efforts have been made to prioritize synergy between river basins and regions, along with the integration of engineering and nonengineering solutions, aimed at improving resilience to climate change and strengthening preparedness for extreme rainstorms.
This includes optimizing flood control engineering system encompassing reservoirs, river channels, embankments and flood detention areas, as well as strengthening the active control capacity over floods by comprehensively utilizing measures such as flood storage, flood detention, flood discharge and flood drainage.
“The country has made overall plans for the construction of water networks, which include major projects targeting at flood control and water supply in the river basins,” said Zhang Xiangwei, director of the ministry’s planning department.
Zhang cited that the newly established 24 large-scale reservoirs, including the Datengxia water resources management facility in the Pearl River Basin and the Dashimen facility in the Xinjiang Uygur autonomous region, have collectively increased water supply ability of 3.46 billion cubic meters and flood control capacity by 2.66 billion cubic meters. Moreover, the ongoing construction of 31 water basin flood control projects and key water resources projects is expected to raise an additional 4.9 billion cubic meters of water supply capacity and 3.67 billion cubic meters of the flood control capacity.
Acknowledging the importance of major conservancy projects on river management, Guan Xifan, an official of the rural economy department of the National Development and Reform Commission, said central investment will be put in place in a timely manner to ensure the project’s construction, and efforts will be made on maintenance to promote their long-term stability.
The importance of employing a digital twin hydraulic system was emphasized by Chen in enhancing the coordinated management of these engineering solutions. This system enables the dynamic simulation of flood scenarios, continual refinement of scheduling plans, and the coordination of flood control engineering systems in a systematic, scientific, secure and precise manner.
In addition, Chen emphasized the need for an enhanced monitoring and forecasting system for rainfall, as well as an optimized distribution of meteorological and hydrological monitoring stations. This will help improve rainfall forecasts, early warnings, simulations and contingency planning, thereby extending the lead time for forecasting and improving the accuracy of flood disaster predictions.
Specifically, the country’s hydrological monitoring stations have increased from 70,000 in 2012 to 130,000 this year, with flooding forecast precision exceeding 90 percent for major rivers in the south and 70 percent for major rivers in the north, Wang Baoen, vice-minister of water resources, said in a recent interview with Outlook Weekly news magazine.
LOS ANGELES, July 04, 2025 (GLOBE NEWSWIRE) — As we gather with loved ones this July 4th to enjoy fireworks, barbecue, and community spirit, we at Flexi-View Lending want to take a moment to honor the heart of what Independence Day means: freedom, opportunity, and the courage to build a better future.
For 248 years, Americans have celebrated our nation’s birth with pride and purpose. On July 4, 1776, the Declaration of Independence marked more than a break from colonial rule—it sparked a national identity rooted in resilience, self-determination, and the pursuit of prosperity for all.
At Flexi-View Lending, these values inspire everything we do.
Financial Freedom Is Modern Independence
In today’s world, financial stability plays a crucial role in personal independence. Whether you’re buying a home, consolidating debt, funding a small business, or simply managing life’s unexpected expenses, access to the right financial solutions can make all the difference.
That’s why at Flexi-View Lending, we’re committed to offering flexible, transparent, and responsible lending options designed around you. Just like the patriots who believed in building a country from the ground up, we believe everyone deserves a chance to build a stronger financial future—one decision at a time.
A Time to Reflect and Renew
As we celebrate this historic day, it’s also a moment to reflect. The freedom we enjoy today was hard-won and must never be taken for granted. The same applies to financial freedom. It’s not always easy—it requires education, smart planning, and the right support.
Our mission is to empower every client with the tools and insights they need to take control of their financial path. We believe that lending isn’t just about numbers—it’s about people, dreams, and the everyday steps toward lasting independence.
Our Promise to You
As Executive Director of Flexi-View Lending, I am deeply proud of the role we play in helping individuals and families achieve their financial goals. On this Independence Day, I want to reaffirm our commitment to:
Integrity in every interaction
Innovation in our services and solutions
Inclusion in making lending accessible to more Americans
Independence by supporting our clients’ long-term financial wellness
Whether you’re new to credit or navigating a complex financial decision, our team is here to guide you—because we believe that true independence means having the freedom to choose your future with confidence.
Honoring Those Who Make It Possible
Today, we also salute the brave men and women in uniform—past and present—who protect our freedoms at home and abroad. Your service allows us to pursue our dreams, speak our minds, and live in a nation where opportunity remains within reach.
To our military families, veterans, and first responders: we thank you. Your sacrifice reminds us that independence is a gift and a responsibility.
Let Freedom Ring
As the fireworks light up the sky and we sing the national anthem with pride, let us also remember that every act of responsibility, every goal achieved, and every community strengthened adds to the legacy of freedom in this country.
This July 4th let’s celebrate not only the founding of a nation—but the individual victories that keep the American dream alive, every day.
From all of us at Flexi-View Lending, we wish you and your loved ones a safe, joyful, and meaningful Independence Day.
Happy 4th of July!
Media Contact: James McDonough Email: info@flexi-viewlending.com Phone: (209) 782-8062 Website: www.flexi-viewlending.com
Summer often brings with it the unmistakable sniffles and sneezes of hay fever. As plants and trees release pollen into the air, many of us start to feel the effects – itchy eyes, runny noses and general discomfort. But hay fever doesn’t just affect people – our pets can suffer too.
Like us, dogs, cats, horses and even small animals like rabbits and guinea pigs can struggle during pollen season. So how can you spot the signs – and more importantly, how can you help?
Get your news from actual experts, straight to your inbox.Sign up to our daily newsletter to receive all The Conversation UK’s latest coverage of news and research, from politics and business to the arts and sciences.
What is hay fever?
Hay fever is an allergic reaction to airborne pollen. Grass pollen is considered the most common trigger, though pollen from trees and weeds can also play a part. Normally, the immune system protects us from harmful invaders like bacteria and viruses. But sometimes, it becomes oversensitive and reacts to things that aren’t dangerous.
Allergies like hay fever happen when the immune system mistakenly treats harmless substances – such as dust or pollen – as threats. When exposed again, the body tries to defend itself, triggering a cascade of reactions including itching, sneezing, congestion, watery eyes and coughing. These symptoms, although frustrating, are the body’s attempt to shield itself – just against the wrong enemy.
Dogs and cats often show signs through their skin, rubbing or scratching at itchy areas and sometimes chewing their paws or belly. These parts of the body are more likely to come into contact with pollen when outdoors. In more severe cases, pets can develop dermatitis – an intensely itchy and inflamed skin condition that may require veterinary care.
If you think your pet might be suffering, it’s important to speak with your vet. Many people with hay fever learn to tell the difference between colds, flu and pollen allergies. But our pets can also catch colds and other infections, which may look similar. To treat the problem properly, it’s best to get a clear diagnosis.
How to help your pet with hay fever
If you or your pet are dealing with hay fever, there are steps you can take to make things more manageable.
Start by keeping a diary of symptoms – it might help you connect flare-ups with particular plants or trees. In the UK, tree pollen tends to peak in April and May, while grass pollen is highest in June and July. If grass seems to be the culprit, keeping lawns short can help. You might also need to remove problem plants from your garden or restrict access to them.
Regular grooming and washing your pet – along with cleaning their bedding – can reduce the amount of pollen they’re exposed to. Less pollen means fewer symptoms.
Pollen forecasts are also a helpful tool. On days when pollen levels are particularly high – usually during warm, dry spells – you can take extra precautions.
Pollen tends to be most concentrated during the day, especially when it’s hot and humid. Try walking your dog early in the morning or later in the evening when levels are lower, which also helps protect them from dangerously high temperatures.
Keeping cats indoors and ensuring horses have appropriate shelter and rugging can also reduce exposure.
While antihistamines are a common remedy for people, don’t be tempted to use them on pets unless prescribed by your veterinary surgeon. Many over-the-counter options are not safe for animals and could cause harm. Your vet can recommend safe alternatives and help create a management plan tailored to your pet.
Don’t use over-the-counter antihistamines to treat your pet. Speak to your vet about the correct treatment. Juice Flair/Shutterstock.com
Pollen allergies are expected to become more common, with climate change and pollution both playing a role. Higher temperatures prompt plants to release more pollen, and pollution can make our immune systems more reactive to it. Even thunderstorms can worsen hay fever by breaking pollen into smaller particles that are more easily inhaled.
Spotting the signs early and taking steps to limit your pet’s exposure can make a big difference, helping them stay comfortable, healthy and happy during the pollen-heavy months.
In addition to her academic affiliation at Nottingham Trent University (NTU) and support from the Institute for Knowledge Exchange Practice (IKEP) at NTU, Jacqueline Boyd is affiliated with The Kennel Club (UK) through membership and as advisor to the Health Advisory Group. Jacqueline is a full member of the Association of Pet Dog Trainers (APDT #01583). She also writes, consults and coaches on canine matters on an independent basis.
Israel’s attack on Iran last month and the US bombing of the country’s nuclear facilities, the first-ever direct US attacks on Iranian soil, were meant to cripple Tehran’s strategic capabilities and reset the regional balance.
The strikes came after 18 months during which Israel had effectively dismantled Hamas in Gaza, dealt a devastating blow to Hezbollah in Lebanon, weakened the Houthis in Yemen, and seen the collapse of the Assad regime in Syria – a longstanding and key Iranian ally.
From a military standpoint, these were remarkable achievements. But they failed to deliver the strategic outcome Israeli and US leaders had long hoped for: the collapse of Iran’s influence and the weakening of its regime.
Instead, the confrontation exposed a deeper miscalculation. Iran’s power isn’t built on impulse or vulnerable proxies alone. It is decentralised, ideologically entrenched and designed to endure. While battered, the Islamic Republic did not fall. And now, it may be more determined – and more dangerous – than before.
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Israel’s attack – dubbed “operation rising lion” – began with attacks on Iranian radar systems, followed by precision airstrikes on Iranian enrichment facilities and senior military officers and scientists. Israel spent roughly US$1.45 (£1.06 billion) billion in the first two days and in the first week of strikes on Iran, costs hit US$5 billion, with daily spending at US$725 million: US$593 million on offensive operations and US$132 million on defence and mobilization.
The day after the US strikes, the Israeli prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, spoke with Donald Trump about a ceasefire. He and his generals were reportedly keen to bring the conflict to a speedy end. Reports suggest that Netanyahu wanted to avoid a lengthy war of attrition that Israel could not sustain, and was already looking for an exit strategy.
Crucially, the Iranian regime remained intact. Rather than inciting revolt, the war rallied nationalist sentiment. Opposition movements remain fractured and lack a common platform or domestic legitimacy. Hopes of a popular uprising that might topple the regime expressed by both Trump and Netanyahu were misplaced.
In the aftermath, Iranian authorities launched a sweeping crackdown on suspected dissenters and what it referred to as “spies”. Former activists, reformists and loosely affiliated protest organisers were arrested or interrogated. What was meant to fracture the regime instead reinforced its grip on power.
Most notably, Iran’s parliament voted to suspend cooperation with the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), ending inspections and giving Tehran the freedom to expand its nuclear programme – both civilian and potentially military – without oversight.
Perhaps the clearest misreading came from Israel and the US treating Syria as a template. The 2024 fall of Bashar al-Assad was hailed as a turning point. His successor, Ahmed al-Sharaa – a little-known opposition figure, former al-Qaeda insurgent and IS affiliate – was rebranded as a pragmatic reformer, who Trump praised as “attractive” and “tough”.
For western and Israeli strategists, Syria offered both a way to weaken Iran and a blueprint of how eventual regime change could play out: collapse the regime, install cooperative leadership in a swift reordering process. But this analogy was dangerously flawed. Iran’s stronger institutions, military depth, resistance-driven identity and existence made it a fundamentally different and more resilient state.
Both Israel and Iran, however, came away with new intelligence. Israel learned that its missile defences and economic resilience were not built for prolonged, multi-front warfare. Iran, meanwhile, gained valuable insight into how far its arsenal – drones, missiles and regional proxies – could reach, and where its limits lie.
Most of Iran’s drones and missiles were intercepted — up to 99% in the cases of drones — exposing critical weaknesses in accuracy, penetration, and survivability against modern air defenses. Yet the few that did break through caused significant damage in Tel Aviv, striking residential areas and critical infrastructure.
This war was not only a clash of weapons but a real-time stress test of each side’s strategic depth. Iran may now adjust its doctrine accordingly – prioritising survivability, mobility and precision in anticipation of future conflicts.
Israel’s vulnerabilities
Internally, Israel entered the war politically fractured and socially strained. Netanyahu’s far-right coalition was already under fire for attempting to weaken judicial independence. The war has temporarily united the country, but the economic and human toll have reignited deeper concerns.
Israel’s geographic and demographic constraints have become clear. Its high-tech economy, tightly integrated with global markets, could not weather prolonged instability. And critically, the damage inflicted by the US bombing was more limited than hoped for. While Washington joined in the initial strikes, it resisted deeper involvement, partly to avoid broader regional escalation and largely because of the lack of domestic appetite for war and high potential for energy inflation, if Iran was to close the Strait of Hormuz.
What happens now?
The war of 2025 did not produce peace. It produced recalibration. Israel emerges militarily capable but politically shaken and economically strained. Iran, though damaged, stands more unified, with fewer international constraints on its nuclear ambitions. Its crackdown on dissent, withdrawal from IAEA oversight, and deepening ties to rival powers suggest a regime preparing not for collapse, but for survival, perhaps even confrontation.
The broader lesson is sobering. Regime change cannot be engineered through precision strikes. Tactical brilliance does not guarantee strategic victory. And the assumption that Iran could unravel like Syria was not strategy, it was hubris.
Both sides now better understand each other’s strengths and limits, a clarity that could deter future war – or make the next one more dangerous. In a region shaped by trauma and shifting power, mistaking resistance for weakness or pause for peace remains the gravest miscalculation.
Bamo Nouri does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
The UK is now more than halfway (50.4%) to achieving a net zero carbon economy, which means it has reduced its national emissions significantly compared to 1990.
We should even celebrate that 0.4%. Why? Because every tonne of carbon saved from the atmosphere and every fraction of a degree celsius of warming avoided saves lives and leaves more life-sustaining ecosystems intact for our children and grandchildren.
It also reduces the risk of triggering irreversible, devastating tipping points in the Earth system. We absolutely do not want to go there. Though, it may already be too late to save 90% of warm-water coral reefs, on which hundreds of millions of people depend for food and protection from storms.
Luckily, tipping points can also work in our favour. Researchers like us call them positive tipping points, which kickstart irreversible, self-propelling change towards a more sustainable future.
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Solar energy has already crossed a tipping point, having become the cheapest source of power in most of the world. Because it is quick to deploy widely and in a variety of formats and settings, solar is expanding exponentially, including to the roughly 700 million people who don’t have electricity.
Electric vehicle sales have also crossed tipping points in China and several European markets, as evidenced by the abrupt acceleration of their shares in national vehicle fleets. The more people buy them, the cheaper and better they get, which makes even more people buy them – a self-propelling change towards a low-carbon road transport system.
Recent findings from the Climate Change Committee, independent advisers to the UK government on climate policy, show that the UK too may be on the cusp of a positive tipping point for electric vehicles (EVs), but that further work is needed to reach a tipping point for heat pumps.
EV sales are racing ahead
According to the CCC, more than half of the UK’s success in decarbonising its economy since 2008 can be attributed to the energy sector. Here, the transition from electricity generated by coal to gas and, increasingly, renewable sources like solar and wind, has occurred “behind the scenes”, without much disruption to daily life.
However, over 80% of the greenhouse gas emission cuts needed between now and 2030 (the UK aims to reduce emissions by 68% by 2030) need to come from other sectors that require the involvement and support of the public and businesses.
The adoption of low-carbon technologies by households, including the buying of EVs and installing of heat pumps, is a critical next step to determining the success or failure of the UK’s ability to achieve net zero. Cars account for about 15% of the UK’s emissions and home heating a further 18%.
Encouragingly, and despite concerted misinformation campaigns to discredit EVs, sales in the UK accounted for 19.6% of all new cars in 2024, which puts this sector close to the critical 20-25% range for triggering the phase of self-propelling adoption, according to positive tipping points theory.
This rise in EV sales is happening for two main reasons. First, the UK has a rule that bans the sale of new petrol and diesel cars from 2035, which gives carmakers and buyers a clear deadline to switch.
Second, they are becoming a better choice all round. They’re getting cheaper (some are expected to cost the same as petrol cars between 2026 and 2028), more appealing (with longer ranges and faster charging), and easier to use (thanks to more charging points and better infrastructure).
If this positive trend continues, emissions saved by EV adoption will be sufficient to achieve the UK road transport sector’s 2030 emissions target.
Where is the heat pump tipping point?
Heat pumps have been slower on the uptake in the UK, leading the CCC to identify their deployment as one of the biggest risks to achieving the 2030 emissions target.
The UK government has set a target of installing 600,000 heat pumps a year by 2028. But despite 90% of British homes being suitable for a heat pump, only 1% have one.
There are signs that installations are picking up pace, however. In 2024, 98,000 heat pumps were installed – an increase of 56% from 2023. Deployment will need to be increased more than six times its current rate over the next three years to reach the installation target. In other words, we urgently need to trigger a positive tipping point in this sector.
The triggering of self-propelling change depends on the relative strength of feedbacks that either resist change (damping or negative feedback) or drive it forward (positive feedback).
One important negative feedback highlighted by the CCC is the UK’s high electricity-to-gas price ratio, which increases the running costs of a heat pump on top of the high upfront cost of buying and installing one. Addressing this issue has been at the top of the CCC’s policy recommendations for the last two years.
One positive feedback that needs to be strengthened is the perception among installers of household demand for heat pumps. When installers perceive demand, they are more likely to invest in the training and certifications needed to meet it.
Two ways the CCC suggests the government could encourage installer confidence are to extend the boiler upgrade scheme (which provides grants to households to install heat pumps) and clean heat mechanism (which obliges manufacturers and installers to prioritise heat pumps) and to reinstate the 2035 phase-out rule for new fossil fuel boilers.
An understanding of positive tipping points helps us identify key leverage points where intervention can be most effective in tackling the remaining half of the UK’s emissions. When implemented as part of a coherent national strategy, positive change can be accomplished at the pace and scale required. There is no time to lose.
Don’t have time to read about climate change as much as you’d like?
Kai Greenlees receives funding from the Economic Social Research Council, through the South West Doctoral Training Partnership.
Steven R. Smith 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.
Imagine a healthcare system where preventing illness is just as important as treating it. This is the vision for the English NHS – but right now, it’s still far from reality. To become more sustainable and better serve patients in the long run, the NHS needs to shift its focus from reactive care to proactive, preventative support.
On July 3 2025, the UK government published its Fit for the Future: Ten-Year Health Plan for England, laying out a blueprint to rebalance the health service toward prevention, digital transformation and localised care. The plan includes:
expanding up to 300 neighbourhood health centres to bring preventative services closer to communities
digitising services with 24/7 access through the NHS app, AI triage – the use of artificial intelligence to help prioritise and assess patients more efficiently, particularly in high-demand areas like emergency departments, GP surgeries and outpatient care – and robot-assisted surgery
tackling chronic illness earlier, including more support for obesity, smoking cessation and mental health
integrating prevention into everyday care, with a shift in national performance targets to better reflect long-term health outcomes.
Prime minister Keir Starmer described it as a shift “from a sickness service to a health service,” marking a deliberate move away from crisis response toward early intervention and community-based support.
These are local collaborations between NHS services, councils, charities and community groups, all working together to improve people’s health. The idea is to better join up care in each area and tackle the broader issues that affect health, such as housing, education and access to support.
I spoke to NHS leaders, including chief executives of major health organisations, on the basis of anonymity, who agree that the system needs to change. But many of them say it will face major obstacles – especially financial constraints and fragmented funding models that continue to reward reactive care, such as A&E. As one NHS leader put it:
All the things that come down from NHS England and the Department of Health and Social Care respond to the now, rather than where we are going.
While the ten-year plan lays out ambitions for rebalanced funding, existing financial mechanisms won’t support this shift. The NHS can overspend during emergencies, but local authorities – who fund most social care and public health – must stay within strict budgets.
This undermines integration and creates unequal footing between services. One senior leader noted”
Local authorities will never consider us as a partner until we get our act together on finance… you’ve got to sit back and look at what impression that gives them – that we’re not equals.
The ten-year plan acknowledges these disparities but offers limited detail on how to resolve them. Without concrete reform of funding flows and accountability structures, prevention may remain a priority in name only.
In 2024, the health and social care secretary, Wes Streeting, described the NHS as “broken” and called for a review to expose the “hard truths” needed to fix it. He has been outspoken in championing both prevention and better integration with social care, viewing these as key to reforming a system overwhelmed by rising demand and worsening outcomes.
Improving housing, social care, education, and jobs can reduce reliance on costly hospital treatments and significantly enhance overall health. In 2022, the NHS took a structural step toward this by merging health and social care services into “integrated care systems”, aiming to better coordinate services across sectors.
However, it has now been more than a decade since key targets for emergency care, hospital waiting times, or cancer services were met – raising questions about whether structural changes alone are enough.
The COVID pandemic deepened these pressures. Waiting lists for treatment surged, while NHS staff faced soaring stress levels. Many healthcare leaders describe the current moment as a perfect storm, in which long-term planning is increasingly difficult while trying to meet immediate needs.
Why risk and measurement matter
Preventative services, new technologies and integrated care models carry uncertainty. Leaders are understandably hesitant to shift resources away from acute services when “hospitals get the headlines.” One told me:
We’re shuffling public service delivery cash around and not thinking through how we develop something fundamentally different.
National performance frameworks also reinforce this inertia. Most targets still focus on wait times, emergency response, and treatment outcomes. As one executive put it:
We manage what’s measured… If we were made to look at deprivation figures and elective recovery figures based on postcode and ethnicity, that might change the conversation.“
The ten-year plan promises new indicators and better data sharing, but it remains to be seen whether these tools will actually shift behaviour at scale.
Listening to communities?
An effective shift to prevention requires more than structural reform – it needs genuine community engagement. One of the aims of integrated care systems was to involve local people in decisions about their health. Most leaders I have interviewed support this principle, but many admit that public involvement remains limited: “We’re not doing enough to listen… We’re not giving people opportunities.”
The ten-year plan reiterates the importance of local voices and promises a stronger focus on “co-produced care,” but delivery will depend on time, trust and cultural change within the system.
My research suggests that the NHS won’t be fixed by continuing to treat illness after it happens. It must evolve into a service that prevents poor health at its root – in homes, schools, workplaces and local communities.
The government’s ten-year plan offers a renewed opportunity to make this shift. But if the plan is to succeed, it will require more than bold promises. It demands redesigned funding, rebalanced risk, shared power with communities – and, above all, the political will to change the system before it collapses under its own weight.
Lisa Knight is affiliated with Mersey and West Lancashire NHS Trust as a Non-Executive Director
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Each day that has passed recently has brought another report of mass killings in Gaza. Today’s headline was as grim as any: according to reports from Gaza’s Hamas-run health ministry, another 118 people were killed in the past 24 hours, including 12 people trying to get aid supplies. This is a particularly unpalatable feature of a wretched conflict: the number of people being killed as they queue for food.
A bulletin carried on the United Nations website bore the headline: “GAZA: Starvation or Gunfire – This is Not a Humanitarian Response.” It said that more than 500 Palestinians have been killed and almost 4,000 injured just trying to access or distribute food.
There are, however, hopes of a hiatus in the violence. Donald Trump announced on July 2 that Israel had accepted terms for a 60-day ceasefire and Hamas is reportedly reviewing the conditions. Donald Trump on his TruthSocial platform wrote: “I hope… that Hamas takes this Deal, because it will not get better – IT WILL ONLY GET WORSE.”
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For his part, the Israeli prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, said: “There will be no Hamas [in postwar Gaza]”. This doesn’t bode well for the longevity of any deal, writes Julie M. Norman.
Norman, an expert in international security at UCL who specialises in the Middle East, says we’ve been here before. The ceasefire deal negotiated with great fanfare as the Biden presidency passed over to Trump’s second term in January, fell to bits after phase one of a mooted three-phase deal, with accusations of bad faith on both sides.
Further talk of a new deal in May never got any further than the drawing board. And the two sides’ positions seem to remain utterly irreconcilable. Hamas wants the ceasefire to end in a permanent peace deal and the withdrawal of Israeli forces from Gaza. Israel wants Hamas dismantled, out of Gaza and out of the picture, full stop.
Netanyahu is due to visit Washington next week, for the third time in less than six months. Whether the US president can bring pressure to bear on Netanyahu to compromise remains to be seen.
As Norman points out after the 12-day war against Iran, which both Trump and Netanyahu have been trumpeting as a huge success, the Israeli prime minister may have the political clout to defy his more hardline colleagues in pursuit of a deal. Trump, meanwhile, having done everything he can to help Netanyahu, can call in some big favours in his quest to play dealmaker. Hamas is seriously weakened and its main ally in the region, Iran, seems unlikely to intervene after its recent conflict with Israel and the US.
So while recent history makes a cessation of violence in Gaza seem as far off as ever, there is at least some reason for hope.
As noted higher up, one of the more terrible features of this wretched conflict of late has been the number of people being killed as they queue to get food. The death toll at aid distribution centres has mounted steadily since Israel, with US backing, introduced a new system run by an American company: Gaza Humanitarian Foundation (GHF). This organisation replaced more than 400 aid points (previously run by a UN agency) with just four, mainly in the south of the Gaza Strip.
This was always going to cause problems, writes Leonie Fleischmann of City St George’s, University of London, who specialises in the conflict between Israel and Palestine. While Israel says the new system is designed to prevent Hamas taking control of aid supplies, all reports are that the scenes around the four distribution centres are descending into anarchy. According to a UN report, “Thousands [of people] released into chaotic enclosures to fight for limited food supplies … These areas have become sites of repeated massacres in blatant disregard for international humanitarian law.”
“Arguably, this chaos and violence is inbuilt in the new aid delivery system,” writes Fleischmann, who concludes that the new system should be seen as a “a mechanism of forced displacement” which is part of a plan by the Netanyahu government “relocate Palestinians to a ‘sterile zone’ in Gaza’s far south” as it continues to clear the north of the Gaza strip.
But if Trump and Netanyahu think the recent short war will lead to a complete reset in the region, leaving a crippled Iran licking its wounds, they way well have miscalculated. That’s the assessment of the situation by Bamo Nouri, a Middle East specialist at City St George’s, University of London. He believes that the 12-day war may prove to have been a strategic blunder by Israel and the US.
For a start, he writes, one outcome of the conflict is that Iran suspended cooperation with the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), ending inspections and giving Tehran the freedom to expand its nuclear programme with no oversight. And its response to Israel’s airstrikes, involving more than 1,000 missiles and drones, breached the country’s “iron dome” defensive system, causing considerable damage and inflicting a serious psychological blow against Israel.
Tehran has also deepened its relationships with both Moscow and Beijing. And far from prompting regime change, the war appears to have prompted an upsurge in nationalist sentiment in Iran.
Nouri concludes: “Israel emerges militarily capable but politically shaken and economically strained. Iran, though damaged, stands more unified, with fewer international constraints on its nuclear ambitions.”
It’s hard to get a clear picture of what was achieved, which isn’t surprising when you consider that there remains considerable doubt, even in this information age, what was achieved by the US bombing raid against Iran’s heavily fortified nuclear installations.
First they were “completely obliterated”. Or at least that was what Donald Trump posted on the night of the raid. Then it seemed that they may not have been as obliterated as first thought. In fact an initial assessment prepared by the US Office of Defense Intelligence thought that the damage may only have hindered Iran’s nuclear programme by a few months.
Cue outrage from the US president and his senior colleagues, amplified by their friends in the US media. There followed some new intelligence which seemed to favour Trump’s position. Then the head of the IAEA, Rafael Grossi, weighed in, saying Iran could be enriching uranium again in a “matter of months”. The latest contribution was from the Pentagon which is saying that timescale is actually closer to “one to two years”. Clear as mud then.
But as Rob Dover reminds us, former US defense secretary Donald Rumsfeld once pronounced: “If it was a fact it wouldn’t be called intelligence.” Dover, who is an intelligence specialist at the University of Hull, explains that intelligence almost always has a political dimension and should be viewed through that prism.
“The assessment given to the public may well be different from the one held within the administration,” writes Dover. This is not necessarily a bad thing, he concludes as “security diplomacy is best done behind closed doors”. Or at least it used to be. Now the US president seems happy to discuss sensitive information in public.
But then, as Sara Polak observes, Donald Trump’s use of social media is changing the way government is conducted in the US. Polak is a specialist in US politics at Leiden University with a particular interest in the way politics and media intersect.
As she writes, for more than a century since Teddy Roosevelt cultivated print journalists, through FDR’s adept use of radio and JFK’s mastery of television, each new media platform has its master. For Trump it is social media. And he is using it to remake politics.
Nowhere has Trump’s mastery of art of issuing simple messages which make for effective soundbites been displayed so clearly than in the name of his landmark tax-cutting legislation still being wrangled over in the US Congress at the time of writing: the One Big Beautiful Bill Act.
While undoubtedly big – it runs to 940 pages – its beauty is what the US House of Representatives has been debating fiercely for 24 hours or more, after it passed the Senate with the help of a casting vote from US president J.D. Vance when three Republican senators voted against it.
Dafydd Townley from the University of Portsmouth, who writes regularly for The Conversation about US politics, has written this incisive analysis of the politics around the legislation which appears set to continue for some time to come.
Source: The Conversation – UK – By Martin Farr, Senior Lecturer in Contemporary British History, Newcastle University
Each is the main political subject in their country, and one is the main political subject in the world. Each rode the populist wave in 2016, campaigning for the other. In 2024 the tandem surfers remounted on to an even greater breaker. Yet, though nothing has happened to suggest that bromance is dead, neither Donald Trump nor Nigel Farage publicly now speak of the other.
Trump’s presidential campaign shared personnel with Leave.eu, the unofficial Brexit campaign. Farage was on the stump with Trump, and his “bad boys of Brexit” made their pilgrimage to Trump Tower after its owner’s own triumph in the US election. Each exulted in the other’s success, and what it portended.
Trump duly proposed giving the UK ambassadorship to the United States to Farage. Instead, Farage became not merely MP for Clacton, but leader of the first insurgent party to potentially reset Britain’s electoral calculus since Labour broke through in 1922.
Then, Labour’s challenge was to replace the Liberals as the alternative party of government. It took two years. Reform UK could replace the Conservatives in four.
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Trump, meanwhile, has achieved what in Britain has either been thwarted (Militant and the Labour party in the 1980s) or has at most had temporary, aberrant, success (Momentum and the Labour party in the 2010s): the takeover of a party from within. Farage has been doing so – hitherto – from without.
At one of those historic forks in a road where change is a matter of chance, after Brexit finally took place, Farage considered his own personal leave – to go and break America.
The path had been trodden by Trump-friendly high-profile provocateurs before him: Steve Hilton, from David Cameron’s Downing Street, via cable news, now standing to be governor of California; Piers Morgan, off to CNN to replace the doyen of cable news Larry King, only to crash, but then to burn on, online. Liz Truss, never knowingly understated, has found her safe space – the rightwing speaking circuit.
But Farage remained stateside. He knew his domestic platform was primed more fully to exploit the voter distrust that his nationalist crusade had done so much to provoke.
The Trump effect
Genuine peacetime transatlantic affiliations are rare, usually confined to the leaders of established parties: Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher, Bill Clinton and Tony Blair. One consequence of the 2016 political shift is that the US Republicans and the British Conservatives, the latter still at least partially tethered to traditional politics, have become distanced.
During the first Trump administration, and even in the build up to the second, it was Farage who was seen as the UK’s bridge to the president. But today, at the peak of their influence, for Farage association can only be by inference, friendship with the US president is not – put mildly – of political advantage. For UK voters, Trump is the 19th most popular foreign politician, in between the King of Denmark and Benjamin Netanyahu.
There is, moreover, the “Trump effect”. Measuring this is crude – circumstances differ – but the trend is that elections may be won by openly criticising, rather than associating with, Trump. This was the case for Mark Carney in Canada, Anthony Albanese in Australia, and Nicușor Dan in Romania.
Trump’s second state visit to the UK will certainly be less awkward for Farage than it will be Starmer, the man who willed it. Farage will likely not – and has no reason to – be seen welcoming so divisive a figure.
Starmer has no choice but to, and to do so ostentatiously. It is typical of Starmer’s perfect storm of an administration that he will, in the process, do nothing to appeal to the sliver of British voters partial to Trump while further shredding his reputation with Labour voters. Farage would be well served in taking one of his tactical European sojourns for the duration. Starmer may be tempted too.
Outmanoeuvring the establishment
Reflecting the historic cultural differences of their countries, Trump’s prescription is less state, Farage’s is more. The Farage of 2025 that is. He had been robustly Thatcherite, but has lately embraced socialist interventionism, albeit through a most Thatcherite analysis: “the gap in the market was enormous”.
Reform UK now appears to stand for what Labour – in the mind of many of its voters – ought to. Eyeing the opportunity of smokestack grievances, Farage called for state control of steel production even as Trump was considering quite how high a tariff to put on it. Nationalisation and economic nationalism: associated restoratives for national malaise.
Aggressively heteronormative, Trump and Farage dabble in the natalism burgeoning in both countries – as much a cultural as an economic imperative. Each has mastered – and much more than their adversaries – social media. Each has come to recognise the demerits in publicly appeasing Putin.
And Reform’s rise in a hitherto Farage-resistant Scotland can only endear him further to a president whose Hebridean mother was thought of (in desperation) as potentially his Rosebud by British officials preparing for his first administration.
Given their rhetorical selectivity, Trump and Farage’s rolling pitches are almost unanswerable for convention-confined political opponents and reporters. These two anti-elite elitists continue to confound.
Unprecedentedly, for a former president, Trump ran against the incumbent; Farage will continue to exploit anti-incumbency, despite his party now being in office. Most elementally, the pair are bound for life by their very public near-death experiences. Theirs is, by any conceivable measure, an uncommon association.
Farage’s fleetness of foot would be apparent even without comparison with the leaden steps of the leaders of the legacy parties. His is a genius of opportunism. That’s why he knows not to remind us of his confrere across the water.
Martin Farr 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.
Donald Trump is continuing his run of political wins after his keynote legislation, nicknamed the ‘big beautiful bill’, squeaked through the Senate.
While the bill, which includes major cuts in tax and government spending, must now go back to the House of Representatives for another vote, passing the upper house is highly significant. Trump lost the support of just three Republican senators, and with the help of a tie-breaking vote from Vice-President J.D. Vance managed to push the bill forward.
Democrats, the minority in both the House and Senate, have been unable to do anything but sit by and watch as Trump claims victory after victory. These include progress in his attempt to end birthright citizenship, the claimed destruction of significant Iranian nuclear sites (yet to be independently verified) and the convincing of Nato member states to increase defence spending to 5% of their GDP. Trump may even be getting closer to a peace deal between Israel and Hamas.
And now the Democrats have failed in their desperate attempts to stop this bill. In the Senate, it was felt that there could be enough Republican senators concerned about cuts to Medicaid (the US system that provides essential healthcare to those on low incomes), the closure or reduction of services at rural hospitals, and the increase in national debt to potentially hinder the bill’s progress. However, Democrats were unable to do anything apart from delaying the voting process, and the bill is progressing with some changes but not enough to be severely weakened.
It had seemed likely that the Democrats could work with the Maga-focused Freedom Caucus group of representatives, whose members include Marjorie Taylor Greene, in the early stages in the House to stop its initial passage. But Speaker Mike Johnson managed to calm most of their fears about the rise in the deficit to get the bill through the House.
The lack of effective opposition from the Democrats reflects their congressional standing. The Republicans control the Senate 53-47, and they also have a majority of 220-212 in the House, with three vacancies.
While Democrat numbers in Congress is the primary issue in opposing this bill, their future congressional power will rely on strong leadership within the party and, more importantly, a clear set of policies with appeal that can attract more support at the ballot boxes. Failure to address this will probably allow Republicans to dominate Congress and shape American domestic and foreign policy any way they wish for longer.
Trump’s agenda has now passed the Senate.
What could Democrats do differently?
While Democrat Hakeem Jeffries has been a diligent minority leader in the House, he has attempted to operate as an obstacle to Republican policies with little success, rather than reaching across the political divide to create a consensus with dissenting Republicans.
Outside of Congress, California governor Gavin Newsom, widely touted as a potential candidate for the next presidential election, has offered some resistance to the Trump administration, particularly over Trump’s assumption of national command over the state-controlled National Guard to deal with protests in California against the Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency. However, Newsom’s reputation is still relatively regional, although it is on the rise.
Zohran Mamdani has won the Democratic nomination for New York mayor.
There will be jostling over the next couple of years for the Democratic presidential nomination, and this will have an impact on the platform that the party runs on. Party members and those voting for the next presidential nominee will need to decide whether to continue with the mainly centrist position that the party has adopted since the 1990s or adopt something more left-wing.
A more radical candidate, such as New York representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, might offer a substantially different proposal that could seem attractive to Democratic voters and those Trump supporters who may feel dissatisfied with the current Republican administration.
However, democratic socialist Zohran Mamdani, recently selected as the Democratic nominee for the New York mayoral election, has already been vilified by some in the Republican party.
Concerns about such a supposedly “radical” candidate may concern many voters in red states in middle America. However, getting elected is one thing but implementing progressive, left-leaning policies is another thing entirely. They also need to deliver solutions to major issues, such as crime, at all levels, to show their abilities to solve problems.
It is not just the policies that matter for the Democrats, but who they want to represent. Last year’s election suggested that the Democrats had been ousted as the representatives of the working class. Some significant labour unions, a foundation of Democratic support for the majority of the 20th century, failed to endorse Kamala Harris.
Mamdani’s success in New York stemmed from the mobilisation of a grassroots campaign that used social media effectively. It targeted young working-class voters disenchanted with the Democratic party. He also resonated with voters in areas that had seen an increase in Republican voters in the 2024 election.
All this may offer some lessons to the Democrats. They need to reassess their policies, their image and their tactics, and show Americans that they can solve the problems that the public sees as most important, including the high cost of living. While they can expect to gain seats in the House in next year’s midterms, they need to look for a leader and policies that will capture the public’s hearts.
Dafydd Townley 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 Martin Farr, Senior Lecturer in Contemporary British History, Newcastle University
Each is the main political subject in their country, and one is the main political subject in the world. Each rode the populist wave in 2016, campaigning for the other. In 2024 the tandem surfers remounted on to an even greater breaker. Yet, though nothing has happened to suggest that bromance is dead, neither Donald Trump nor Nigel Farage publicly now speak of the other.
Trump’s presidential campaign shared personnel with Leave.eu, the unofficial Brexit campaign. Farage was on the stump with Trump, and his “bad boys of Brexit” made their pilgrimage to Trump Tower after its owner’s own triumph in the US election. Each exulted in the other’s success, and what it portended.
Trump duly proposed giving the UK ambassadorship to the United States to Farage. Instead, Farage became not merely MP for Clacton, but leader of the first insurgent party to potentially reset Britain’s electoral calculus since Labour broke through in 1922.
Then, Labour’s challenge was to replace the Liberals as the alternative party of government. It took two years. Reform UK could replace the Conservatives in four.
Get your news from actual experts, straight to your inbox.Sign up to our daily newsletter to receive all The Conversation UK’s latest coverage of news and research, from politics and business to the arts and sciences.
Trump, meanwhile, has achieved what in Britain has either been thwarted (Militant and the Labour party in the 1980s) or has at most had temporary, aberrant, success (Momentum and the Labour party in the 2010s): the takeover of a party from within. Farage has been doing so – hitherto – from without.
At one of those historic forks in a road where change is a matter of chance, after Brexit finally took place, Farage considered his own personal leave – to go and break America.
The path had been trodden by Trump-friendly high-profile provocateurs before him: Steve Hilton, from David Cameron’s Downing Street, via cable news, now standing to be governor of California; Piers Morgan, off to CNN to replace the doyen of cable news Larry King, only to crash, but then to burn on, online. Liz Truss, never knowingly understated, has found her safe space – the rightwing speaking circuit.
But Farage remained stateside. He knew his domestic platform was primed more fully to exploit the voter distrust that his nationalist crusade had done so much to provoke.
The Trump effect
Genuine peacetime transatlantic affiliations are rare, usually confined to the leaders of established parties: Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher, Bill Clinton and Tony Blair. One consequence of the 2016 political shift is that the US Republicans and the British Conservatives, the latter still at least partially tethered to traditional politics, have become distanced.
During the first Trump administration, and even in the build up to the second, it was Farage who was seen as the UK’s bridge to the president. But today, at the peak of their influence, for Farage association can only be by inference, friendship with the US president is not – put mildly – of political advantage. For UK voters, Trump is the 19th most popular foreign politician, in between the King of Denmark and Benjamin Netanyahu.
There is, moreover, the “Trump effect”. Measuring this is crude – circumstances differ – but the trend is that elections may be won by openly criticising, rather than associating with, Trump. This was the case for Mark Carney in Canada, Anthony Albanese in Australia, and Nicușor Dan in Romania.
Trump’s second state visit to the UK will certainly be less awkward for Farage than it will be Starmer, the man who willed it. Farage will likely not – and has no reason to – be seen welcoming so divisive a figure.
Starmer has no choice but to, and to do so ostentatiously. It is typical of Starmer’s perfect storm of an administration that he will, in the process, do nothing to appeal to the sliver of British voters partial to Trump while further shredding his reputation with Labour voters. Farage would be well served in taking one of his tactical European sojourns for the duration. Starmer may be tempted too.
Outmanoeuvring the establishment
Reflecting the historic cultural differences of their countries, Trump’s prescription is less state, Farage’s is more. The Farage of 2025 that is. He had been robustly Thatcherite, but has lately embraced socialist interventionism, albeit through a most Thatcherite analysis: “the gap in the market was enormous”.
Reform UK now appears to stand for what Labour – in the mind of many of its voters – ought to. Eyeing the opportunity of smokestack grievances, Farage called for state control of steel production even as Trump was considering quite how high a tariff to put on it. Nationalisation and economic nationalism: associated restoratives for national malaise.
Aggressively heteronormative, Trump and Farage dabble in the natalism burgeoning in both countries – as much a cultural as an economic imperative. Each has mastered – and much more than their adversaries – social media. Each has come to recognise the demerits in publicly appeasing Putin.
And Reform’s rise in a hitherto Farage-resistant Scotland can only endear him further to a president whose Hebridean mother was thought of (in desperation) as potentially his Rosebud by British officials preparing for his first administration.
Given their rhetorical selectivity, Trump and Farage’s rolling pitches are almost unanswerable for convention-confined political opponents and reporters. These two anti-elite elitists continue to confound.
Unprecedentedly, for a former president, Trump ran against the incumbent; Farage will continue to exploit anti-incumbency, despite his party now being in office. Most elementally, the pair are bound for life by their very public near-death experiences. Theirs is, by any conceivable measure, an uncommon association.
Farage’s fleetness of foot would be apparent even without comparison with the leaden steps of the leaders of the legacy parties. His is a genius of opportunism. That’s why he knows not to remind us of his confrere across the water.
Martin Farr 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.
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“I am deeply saddened by the loss of one of New York State’s bravest, who passed away while responding to a residential fire in the Town of Conklin early this morning. Fire Chief James Sitek of the West Colesville Fire Company was a dedicated volunteer firefighter for 35 years, serving as Chief for the past three, and courageously dedicated his life to protecting his community.
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Speedballing – the practice of combining a stimulant like cocaine or methamphetamine with an opioid such as heroin or fentanyl – has evolved from a niche subculture to a widespread public health crisis. The practice stems from the early 1900s when World War I soldiers were often treated with a combination of cocaine and morphine.
As these dangerous combinations of drugs increasingly flood the market, I see an urgent need and opportunity for a new approach to prevention and treatment.
Why speedballing?
Dating back to the 1970s, the term speedballing originally referred to the combination of heroin and cocaine. Combining stimulants and opioids – the former’s “rush” with the latter’s calming effect – creates a dangerous physiological conflict.
According to the National Institute on Drug Abuse, stimulant-involved overdose fatalities increased markedly from more than 12,000 annually in 2015 to greater than 57,000 in 2022, a 375% increase. Notably, approximately 70% of stimulant-related overdose deaths in 2022 also involved fentanyl or other synthetic opioids, reflecting the rising prevalence of polysubstance involvement in overdose mortality.
The rise in speedballing is part of a broader trend of polysubstance use in the U.S. Since 2010, overdoses involving both stimulants and fentanyl have increased 50-fold, now accounting for approximately 35,000 deaths annually.
The conflicting effects of stimulants and opioids can also exacerbate mental health issues. Users may experience heightened anxiety, depression and paranoia. The combination can also impair cognitive functions, leading to confusion and poor decision-making.
Speedballing can also lead to severe cardiovascular problems, including hypertension, heart attack and stroke. The strain on the heart and blood vessels from the stimulant, combined with the depressant effects of the opioid, increases the risk of these life-threatening conditions.
Addressing the crisis
Increasing awareness about the dangers of speedballing is crucial. I believe that educational campaigns can inform the public about the risks of combining stimulants and opioids and the potential for unintentional fentanyl exposure.
Implementing harm reduction strategies by public health officials, community organizations and health care providers, such as providing fentanyl test strips and naloxone – a medication that reverses opioid overdoses – can save lives.
These measures allow individuals to test their drugs for the presence of fentanyl and have immediate access to overdose-reversing medication. Implementing these strategies widely is crucial to reducing overdose deaths and improving community health outcomes.
Andrew Yockey does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
The U.S. Capitol is seen shortly after the Senate passed its version of the One Big Beautiful Bill Act on July 1, 2025. Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images
As the U.S. House of Representatives voted to approve President Donald Trump’s sweeping domestic tax and spending package, many critics are wondering how the president retained the loyalty of so many congressional Republicans, with so few defections.
Just three Republican senators – the maximum allowed for the One Big Beautiful Bill Act to still pass – voted against the Senate version of the bill on July 1, 2025. In the House, only two Republicans voted against the bill, which passed the chamber on July 3.
Trump is not the first president to bend Congress to his will to get legislation approved.
Presidential supremacy over the legislative process has been on the rise for decades. But contrary to popular belief, lawmakers are not always simply voting based on blind partisanship.
Increasingly, politicians in the same political party as a president are voting in line with the president because their political futures are as tied up with the president’s reputation as they have ever been.
Even when national polling indicates a policy is unpopular – as is the case with Trump’s budget reconciliation bill, which an estimated 55% of American voters said in June they oppose, according to Quinnipiac University polling – lawmakers in the president’s party have serious motivation to follow the president’s lead.
Or else they risk losing reelection.
Speaker of the House Mike Johnson speaks to reporters at the Capitol building on July 3, 2025. Alex Wong/Getty Images
Lawmakers increasingly partisan on presidential policy
Over the past 50 years, lawmakers in the president’s party have increasingly supported the president’s position on legislation that passes Congress. Opposition lawmakers, meanwhile, are increasingly united against the president’s position.
These patterns are unheard of in the modern Congress. In 2022, for example – a year of significant legislative achievement for the Biden administration – the Democratic majority in Congress voted the same way as the Democratic president 99% of the time. Republicans, meanwhile, voted with Biden just 19% of the time.
Elections can tell us why
Over the past half-century, the two major parties have changed dramatically, both in the absolutist nature of their beliefs and in relation to one another.
Both parties used to be more mixed in their ideological outlooks, for example, with conservative Democrats and liberal Republicans playing key roles in policymaking. This made it easier to form cross-party coalitions, either with or against the president.
A few decades ago, Democrats and Republicans were also less geographically polarized from each other. Democrats were regularly elected to congressional seats in the South, for example, even if those districts supported Republican presidents such as Nixon or Ronald Reagan.
These changes have ushered in a larger phenomenon called political nationalization, in which local political considerations, issues and candidate qualifications have taken a back seat to national politics.
Ticket splitting
From the 1960s through most of the 1980s, between one-quarter and one-half of all congressional districts routinely split tickets – meaning they sent a politician of one party to Congress while supporting a different party for president.
These are the same few districts in Nebraska and New York, for example, that supported former Vice President Kamala Harris for president in 2024 but which also elected a Republican candidate to the House that same year.
Since the Reagan years, however, these types of districts that could simultaneously support a Democratic presidential nominee and Republicans for Congress have gone nearly extinct. Today, only a handful of districts split their tickets, and all other districts select the same party for both offices.
The past two presidential elections, in 2020 and 2024, set the same record low for ticket splitting. Just 16 out of 435 House districts voted for different parties for the House of Representatives and president.
Members of Congress follow their voters
The political success of members of Congress has become increasingly tied up with the success or failure of the president. Because nearly all Republicans hail from districts and states that are very supportive of Trump and his agenda, following the will of their voters increasingly means being supportive of the president’s agenda.
Not doing so risks blowback from their Trump-supporting constituents. A June 2025 Quinnipiac University poll found that 67% of Republicans support the bill, while 87% of Democrats oppose it.
These electoral considerations also help explain the unanimous opposition to Trump’s legislation by the Democrats, nearly all of whom represent districts and states that did not support Trump in 2024.
Thanks to party polarization in ideologies, geography and in the electorate, few Democrats could survive politically while strongly supporting Trump. And few Republicans could do so while opposing him.
But as the importance to voters of mere presidential support increases, the importance of members’ skill in fighting for issues unique to their districts has decreased. This can leave important local concerns about, for example, unique local environmental issues or declining economic sectors unspoken for. At the very least, members have less incentive to speak for them.
Charlie Hunt 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.
Many modern devices – from cellphones and computers to electric vehicles and wind turbines – rely on strong magnets made from a type of minerals called rare earths. As the systems and infrastructure used in daily life have turned digital and the United States has moved toward renewable energy, accessing these minerals has become critical – and the markets for these elements have grown rapidly.
Modern society now uses rare earth magnets in everything from national defense, where magnet-based systems are integral to missile guidance and aircraft, to the clean energy transition, which depends on wind turbines and electric vehicles.
The rapid growth of the rare earth metal trade and its effects on society isn’t the only case study of its kind. Throughout history, materials have quietly shaped the trajectory of human civilization. They form the tools people use, the buildings they inhabit, the devices that mediate their relationships and the systems that structure economies. Newly discovered materials can set off ripple effects that shape industries, shift geopolitical balances and transform people’s daily habits.
Materials science is the study of the atomic structure, properties, processing and performance of materials. In many ways, materials science is a discipline of immense social consequence.
As a materials scientist, I’m interested in what can happen when new materials become available. Glass, steel and rare earth magnets are all examples of how innovation in materials science has driven technological change and, as a result, shaped global economies, politics and the environment.
How innovation shapes society: Pressures from societal and political interests (orange arrows) drive the creation of new materials and the technologies that such materials enable (center). The ripple effects resulting from people using these technologies change the entire fabric of society (blue arrows). Peter Mullner
Glass lenses and the scientific revolution
In the early 13th century, after the sacking of Constantinople, some excellent Byzantine glassmakers left their homes to settle in Venice – at the time a powerful economic and political center. The local nobility welcomed the glassmakers’ beautiful wares. However, to prevent the glass furnaces from causing fires, the nobles exiled the glassmakers – under penalty of death – to the island of Murano.
Murano became a center for glass craftsmanship. In the 15th century, the glassmaker Angelo Barovier experimented with adding the ash from burned plants, which contained a chemical substance called potash, to the glass.
The potash reduced the melting temperature and made liquid glass more fluid. It also eliminated bubbles in the glass and improved optical clarity. This transparent glass was later used in magnifying lenses and spectacles.
Johannes Gutenberg’s printing press, completed in 1455, made reading more accessible to people across Europe. With it came a need for reading glasses, which grew popular among scholars, merchants and clergy – enough that spectacle-making became an established profession.
In the late 18th and 19th centuries, the Industrial Revolution created demand for stronger, more reliable materials for machines, railroads, ships and infrastructure. The material that emerged was steel, which is strong, durable and cheap. Steel is a mixture of mostly iron, with small amounts of carbon and other elements added.
Countries with large-scale steel manufacturing once had outsized economic and political power and influence over geopolitical decisions. For example, the British Parliament intended to prevent the colonies from exporting finished steel with the iron act of 1750. They wanted the colonies’ raw iron as supply for their steel industry in England.
Benjamin Huntsman invented a smelting process using 3-foot tall ceramic vessels, called crucibles, in 18th-century Sheffield. Huntsman’s crucible process produced higher-quality steel for tools and weapons.
One hundred years later, Henry Bessemer developed the oxygen-blowing steelmaking process, which drastically increased production speed and lowered costs. In the United States, figures such as Andrew Carnegie created a vast industry based on Bessemer’s process.
The widespread availability of steel transformed how societies built, traveled and defended themselves. Skyscrapers and transit systems made of steel allowed cities to grow, steel-built battleships and tanks empowered militaries, and cars containing steel became staples in consumer life.
Control over steel resources and infrastructure made steel a foundation of national power. China’s 21st-century rise to steel dominance is a continuation of this pattern. From 1995 to 2015, China’s contribution to the world steel production increased from about 10% to more than 50%. The White House responded in 2018 with massive tariffs on Chinese steel.
Rare earth metals and global trade
Early in the 21st century, the advance of digital technologies and the transition to an economy based on renewable energies created a demand for rare earth elements.
Rare earth elements are 17 chemically very similar elements, including neodymium, dysprosium, samarium and others. They occur in nature in bundles and are the ingredients that make magnets super strong and useful. They are necessary for highly efficient electric motors, wind turbines and electronic devices.
The rare earth metals case illustrates how a single category of materials can shape trade policy, industrial planning and even diplomatic alliances.
Mining rare earth elements has allowed for the widespread adoption of many modern technologies. Peggy Greb, USDA
Technological transformation begins with societal pressure. New materials create opportunities for scientific and engineering breakthroughs. Once a material proves useful, it quickly becomes woven into the fabric of daily life and broader systems. With each innovation, the material world subtly reorganizes the social world — redefining what is possible, desirable and normal.
Understanding how societies respond to new innovations in materials science can help today’s engineers and scientists solve crises in sustainability and security. Every technical decision is, in some ways, a cultural one, and every material has a story that extends far beyond its molecular structure.
The National Science Foundation, the Department of Energy, NASA, and other national and regional agencies have funded former research of Peter Mullner.
Source: The Conversation – USA – By Elizabeth Carlen, Living Earth Collaborative Postdoctoral Fellow, Washington University in St. Louis
A Buddhist monk in Hong Kong releases fish and chants prayers during a ceremony to free the spirits of tsunami victims.Samantha Sin/AFP via Getty Images
People often consider evolution to be a process that occurs in nature in the background of human society. But evolution is not separate from human beings. In fact, human cultural practices can influence evolution in wildlife. This influence is highly pronounced in cities, where people drastically alter landscapes to meet their own needs.
Human actions can affect wildlife evolution in a number of ways. If people fragment habitat, separated wildlife populations can evolve to be more and more different from each other. If people change certain local conditions, it can pressure organisms in new ways that mean different genes are favored by natural selection and passed on to offspring – another form of evolution that can be driven by what people do.
In a recent review, evolutionary biologists Marta Szulkin, Colin Garrowayand I, in collaboration with scientists spread across five continents, explored how cultural processes – including religion, politics and war – shape urban evolution. We reviewed dozens of empirical studies about urban wildlife around the globe. Our work highlights which human cultural practices have and continue to shape the evolutionary trajectory of wild animals and plants.
Religious practices
If you’ve traveled internationally, you may have noticed the menu at any one McDonald’s restaurant is shaped by the local culture of its location. In the United Arab Emirates, McDonald’s serves an entirely halal menu. Vegetarian items are common and no beef is served in Indian McDonald’s. And in the United States, McDonald’s Filet-O-Fish is especially popular during Lent when observant Catholics don’t consume meat on Fridays.
Similarly, ecosystems of cities are shaped by local cultural practices. Because all wildlife are connected to the environment, cultural practices that alter the landscape shape the evolution of urban organisms.
Populations of fire salamanders have different genes depending on which side of city walls in Oviedo, Spain, they live on. Patrice Skrzynski via Getty Images
For example, in Oviedo, Spain, people constructed walls around religious buildings between the 12th and 16th centuries. This division of the city led to different populations of fire salamanders inside and outside the walls. Because salamanders can’t scale these walls, those on opposite sides became isolated from each other and unable to pass genes back and forth. In a process that scientists call genetic drift, over time salamanders on the two sides became genetically distinct − evidence of the two populations evolving independently.
Imagine dumping out a handful of M&Ms. Just by chance, some colors might be overrepresented and others might be missing. In the same way, genes that are overrepresented on one side of the wall can be in low numbers or missing on the other side. That’s genetic drift.
Introducing non-native wildlife is another way people can alter urban ecosystems and evolutionary processes. For example, prayer animal release is a practice that started in the fifth or sixth century in some sects of Buddhism. Practitioners who strive to cause no harm to any living creature release captive animals, which benefits the animal and is meant to improve the karma of the person who released it.
However, these animals are often captured from the wild or come from the pet trade, thereby introducing non-native wildlife into the urban ecosystem. Non-natives may compete with local species and contribute to the local extinction of native wildlife. Capturing animals nearby has downsides, too. It can diminish local populations, since many die traveling to the release ceremony. The genetic diversity of these local populations in turn decreases, reducing the population’s ability to survive.
Politically motivated campaigns have shaped wildlife in various ways.
Starting in 1958, for instance, the Chinese Communist Party led a movement to eliminate four species that were considered pests: rats, flies, mosquitoes and sparrows. While the first three are commonly considered pests around the world, sparrows made the list because they were “public animals of capitalism” due to their fondness for grain. The extermination campaign ended up decimating the sparrow population and damaging the entire ecosystem. With sparrows no longer hunting and eating insects, crop pests such as locusts thrived, leading to crop destruction and famine.
In the United States, racial politics may be shaping evolutionary processes in wildlife.
For instance, American highways traverse cities according to political agendas and have often dismantled poor neighborhoods of color to make way for multilane thoroughfares. These highways can change how animals are able to disperse and commingle. For example, they prevent bobcats and coyotes from traveling throughout Los Angeles, leading to similar patterns of population differentiation as seen in fire salamanders in Spain.
Wildlife during and after war
Human religious and political agendas often lead to armed conflict. Wars are known to dramatically alter the environment, as seen in current conflicts in Gaza and Ukraine.
While documenting evolutionary changes to urban wildlife is secondary to keeping people safe during wartime, a handful of studies on wildlife have come out of active war zones. For example, the current Russia-Ukraine war affected the migration of greater spotted eagles. They made large diversions around the active war zone, arriving later than usual at their breeding grounds. The longer route increased the energy the eagles used during migration and likely influenced their fitness during breeding.
Wars limit access to resources for people living in active war zones. The lack of energy to heat homes in Ukraine during the winter has led urban residents to harvest wood from nearby forests. This harvesting will have long-term consequences on forest dynamics, likely altering future evolutionary potential.
A similar example is famine that occurred during the Democratic Republic of Congo’s civil wars (1996-1997, 1998-2003) and led to an increase in bushmeat consumption. This wildlife hunting is known to reduce primate population sizes, making them more susceptible to local extinction.
Even after war, landscapes experience consequences.
For example, the demilitarized zone between North Korea and South Korea is a 160-mile (250-kilometer) barrier, established in 1953, separating the two countries. Heavily fortified with razor wire and landmines, the demilitarized zone has become a de facto nature sanctuary supporting thousands of species, including dozens of endangered species.
The collapse of the Soviet Union and the end of the Cold War led to the establishment of the European Green Belt, which runs along the same path as the Iron Curtain. This protected ecological network is over 7,800 miles (12,500 kilometers) long, allowing wildlife to move freely across 24 countries in Europe. Like the Korean DMZ, the European Green Belt allows for wildlife to move, breed and exchange genes, despite political boundaries. Politics has removed human influence from these spaces, allowing them to be a safe haven for wildlife.
While researchers have documented a number of examples of wildlife evolving in response to human history and cultural practices, there’s plenty more to uncover. Cultures differ around the world, meaning each city has its own set of variables that shape the evolutionary processes of wildlife. Understanding how these human cultural practices shape evolutionary patterns will allow people to better design cities that support both humans and the wildlife that call these places home.
Ideas for this article were developed as part of a NSF funded Research Coordination Network (DEB 1840663). Elizabeth Carlen was funded by the Living Earth Collaborative.
The US president, Donald Trump, says that Israel has agreed to terms for a 60-day ceasefire in Gaza. If that sounds familiar, it is.
The idea of a two-month truce has been discussed since the collapse of the last shortlived ceasefire in March. A similar proposal was floated in May, but Hamas viewed it as an enabling mechanism for Israel to continue the war after a brief pause, rather than reaching a permanent peace deal.
As the devastation in Gaza worsens by the day, will this time be any different?
The proposal, put forward by Qatari mediators, reportedly involves Hamas releasing ten living hostages and the bodies of 18 deceased hostages over the 60-day period, in exchange for the release of a number of Palestinian prisoners.
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The remaining 22 hostages would be released if a long-term deal is reached. The 60-day ceasefire period would also involve negotiations for a permanent end to hostilities and a roadmap for post-war governance in Gaza.
But the plan is similar to the eight-week, three-phase ceasefire from January to March of this year, which collapsed after the first phase of hostage exchanges. Since then peace talks have hit a recurrent impasse.
For Hamas, a long-term ceasefire means the permanent end to the war and the withdrawal of Israeli forces from Gaza. Israel, meanwhile, wants to see the complete removal of Hamas from power, the dismantling and disarming of its military wing and the exile of remaining senior Hamas leaders.
But despite the persistent challenges, there are several reasons that this attempt for a ceasefire might be different. First and foremost is the recent so-called “12-day war” between Israel and Iran, which Israel has trumpeted as a major success for degrading Iran’s nuclear capabilities (although the reality is more nuanced).
The perceived win gives Israel’s prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, political maneuverability to pursue a ceasefire over the objections of far-right hardliners in his coalition who have threatened to bring down the government in previous rounds.
The Iran-Israel war, in which the US controversially carried out strikes on Iran’s nuclear sites, also revived Trump’s interest in the Middle East. Trump entered office just as the phased Gaza ceasefire deal was being agreed. But Trump put little diplomatic pressure on Israel to engage in serious talks to get from the first phase of the agreement to phase two, allowing the war to resume in March.
Now however, after assisting Israel militarily in Iran, Trump has significant leverage he can use with Netanyahu. He will have the chance to use it (if he chooses) when Netanyahu visits Washington next week.
Both men also view Iran’s weakened position as an opportunity for expanding the Abraham accords. This was the set of agreements normalising relations between Israel and several Arab states, including the United Arab Emirates, Bahrain, Sudan and Morocco, which Trump brokered at the end of his first term.
Netanyahu has long eyed a US-backed deal with Saudi Arabia, and a smaller-scale declaration with Syria is reportedly now under discussion as well. But those deals can’t move forward while the war in Gaza is going.
Additional obstacles
However, the recurrent obstacles to a deal remain – and it’s unclear if the proposed terms will include guarantees to prevent Israel resuming the war after the 60-day period.
New issues have also arisen since the last round of talks that could create further challenges. Hamas is demanding a return to traditional humanitarian aid distribution in Gaza – or at least the replacement of the controversial US and Israeli-backed Gaza Humanitarian Foundation (GHF).
The GHF’s four distribution sites, located in militarised zones, replaced over 400 previously operating aid points, and more than 400 people have been killed while seeking aid near the sites, since May 26. More than 170 international non-governmental organisations and charities have called for the GHF to be shut down.
Israel’s military control over Gaza has also become further entrenched since the last ceasefire. More than 80% is thought to be covered by evacuation orders – and new orders for north Gaza and Gaza City were issued on June 29 and July 2 respectively.
Israeli officials have described the renewed operations as military pressure on Hamas to accept a ceasefire. But Netanyahu has also spoken openly about long-term military occupation of Gaza.
He recently stated that Israel would remain in “full security control of Gaza” even after the war. Even if a temporary ceasefire is agreed, the road ahead is strewn with difficulties in moving towards a long-lasting ceasefire or reaching an acceptable “day-after” agreement.
Still, the current moment offers an opportunity for a breakthrough. Trump has a renewed interest in getting to a ceasefire and Netanyahu has a rare political window to enter an agreement and get hostages home. Hamas, meanwhile, has been weakened, not only by Israel’s relentless military pounding, but by increasing disillusionment from the people of Gaza, who are desperate for an end to the war.
There is no shortage of reasons to end the war in Gaza. The only question is if Israel and Hamas have the will to do so.
Julie M. Norman 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.
Satellite photo of rural Saga prefecture, Japan, showing farmland disuse, consolidation and intensification and urban development.Google Earth Pro, CC BY-NC-ND
Since 1970, 73% of global wildlife has been lost, while the world’s population has doubled to 8 billion. Research shows this isn’t a coincidence but that population growth is causing a catastrophic decline in biodiversity.
Yet a turning point in human history is underway. According to UN projections, the number of people in 85 countries will be shrinking by 2050, mostly in Europe and Asia. By 2100, the human population is on course for global decline. Some say this will be good for the environment.
In 2010, Japan became the first Asian country to begin depopulating. South Korea, China and Taiwan are following close behind. In 2014, Italy was the first in southern Europe, followed by Spain, Portugal and others. We call Japan and Italy “depopulation vanguard countries” on account of their role as forerunners for understanding possible consequences in their regions.
Given assumptions that depopulation could help deliver environmental restoration, we have been working with colleagues Yang Li and Taku Fujita to investigate whether Japan is experiencing what we have termed a biodiversity “depopulation dividend” or something else.
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Since 2003, hundreds of citizen scientists have been collecting biodiversity data for the Japanese government’s Monitoring Sites 1,000 project. We used 1.5 million recorded species observations from 158 sites.
These were in wooded, agricultural and peri-urban (transitional spaces on outskirts of cities) areas. We compared these observations against changes in local population, land use and surface temperature for periods of five to 20 years.
Our study, published in the journal Nature Sustainability, includes birds, butterflies, fireflies, frogs and 2,922 native and non-native plants. These landscapes have experienced the greatest depopulation since the 1990s.
Due to the size of our database, choice of sites and the positioning of Japan as a depopulation vanguard for north-east Asia, this is one of the largest studies of its kind.
Japan is not Chernobyl
Biodiversity continued to decrease in most of the areas we studied, irrespective of population increase or decrease. Only where the population remains steady is biodiversity more stable. However, the population of these areas is ageing and will decline soon, bringing them in line with the areas already seeing biodiversity loss.
Unlike in Chernobyl, where a sudden crisis caused an almost total evacuation which stimulated startling accounts of wildlife revival, Japan’s population loss has developed gradually. Here, a mosaic pattern of changing land use emerges amid still-functioning communities.
While most farmland remains under cultivation, some falls into disuse or abandonment, some is sold for urban development or transformed into intensively farmed landscapes. This prevents widespread natural succession of plant growth or afforestation (planting of new trees) that would enrich biodiversity.
In these areas, humans are agents of ecosystem sustainability. Traditional farming and seasonal livelihood practices, such as flooding, planting and harvesting of rice fields, orchard and coppice management, and property upkeep, are important for maintaining biodiversity. So depopulation can be destructive to nature. Some species thrive, but these are often non-native ones that present other challenges, such as the drying and choking of formerly wet rice paddy fields by invasive grasses.
Vacant and derelict buildings, underused infrastructure and socio-legal issues (such as complicated inheritance laws and land taxes, lack of local authority administrative capacity, and high demolition and disposal costs) all compound the problem.
An abandoned house, or akiya, in Niigata prefecture, Japan. Peter Matanle, CC BY-NC-ND
Even as the number of akiya (empty, disused or abandoned houses) increases to nearly 15% of the nation’s housing stock, the construction of new dwellings continues remorselessly. In 2024, more than 790,000 were built, due partly to Japan’s changing population distribution and household composition. Alongside these come roads, shopping malls, sports facilities, car parks and Japan’s ubiquitous convenience stores. All in all, wildlife has less space and fewer niches to inhabit, despite there being fewer people.
What can be done?
Data shows deepening depopulation in Japan and north-east Asia. Fertility rates remain low in most developed countries. Immigration provides only a short-term softer landing, as countries currently supplying migrants, such as Vietnam, are also on course for depopulation.
Our research demonstrates that biodiversity recovery needs to be actively managed, especially in depopulating areas. Despite this there are only a few rewilding projects in Japan. To help these develop, local authorities could be given powers to convert disused land into locally managed community conservancies.
Nature depletion is a systemic risk to global economic stability. Ecological risks, such as fish stock declines or deforestation, need better accountability from governments and corporations. Rather than spend on more infrastructure for an ever-dwindling population, for example, Japanese companies could invest in growing local natural forests for carbon credits.
Depopulation is emerging as a 21st-century global megatrend. Handled well, depopulation could help reduce the world’s most pressing environmental problems, including resource and energy use, emissions and waste, and nature conservation. But it needs to be actively managed for those opportunities to be realised.
Don’t have time to read about climate change as much as you’d like?
Kei Uchida received funding from JSPS Kakenhi 20K20002.
Masayoshi K. Hiraiwa 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.
Ancient wooden tools found at a site in Gantangqing in southwestern China are approximately 300,000 years old, new dating has shown. Discovered during excavations carried out in 2014–15 and 2018–19, the tools have now been dated by a team of archaeologists, geologists, chronologists (including me) and paleontologists.
The rare wooden tools were found alongside an assortment of animal and plant fossils and stone artifacts.
Taken together, the finds suggest the early humans at Gantangqing were surprisingly sophisticated woodworkers who lived in a rich tropical or subtropical environment where they subsisted by harvesting plants from a nearby lake.
The location of the Gantangqing site and excavation trenches. Liu et al. / Science
Why ancient wooden tools are so rare
Wood usually decomposes relatively rapidly due to microbial activity, oxidation, and weathering. Unlike stone or bone, it rarely survives more than a few centuries.
Wood can only survive for thousands of years or longer if it ends up buried in unusual conditions. Wood can last a long time in oxygen-free environments or extremely dry areas. Charred or fire-hardened wood is also more durable.
At Gantangqing, the wooden objects were excavated from low-oxygen clay-heavy layers of sediment formed on the ancient shoreline of Fuxian Lake.
Wooden implements are extremely rare from the Early Palaeolithic period (the first part of the “stone age” from around 3.3 million years ago until 300,000 years ago or so, in which our hominin ancestors first began to use tools). Indeed, wooden tools more than even 50,000 years old are virtually absent outside Africa and western Eurasia.
As a result, we may have a skewed understanding of Palaeolithic cultures. We may overemphasise the role of stone tools, for example, because they are what has survived.
What wooden tools were found at Gantangqing?
The new excavations at Gantangqing found 35 wooden specimens identified as artificially modified tools. These tools were primarily manufactured from pine wood, with a minority crafted from hardwoods.
Some of the tools had rounded ends, while others had chisel-like thin blades or ridged blades. Of the 35 tools, 32 show marks of intentional modification at their tips, working edges, or bases.
Two large digging implements were identified as heavy-duty digging sticks designed for two-handed use. These are unique forms of digging implements not documented elsewhere, suggesting localised functional adaptations. There were also four distinct hook-shaped tools — likely used for cutting roots — and a series of smaller tools for one-handed use.
Nineteen of the tools showed microscopic traces of scraping from shaping or use, while 17 exhibit deliberately polished surfaces. We also identified further evidence of intensive use, including soil residues stuck to tool tips, parallel grooves or streaks along working edges, and characteristic fracture wear patterns.
The tools from Gantangqing are more complete and show a wider range of functions than those found at contemporary sites such as Clacton in the UK and Florisbad in South Africa.
The team used several techniques to figure out the age of the wooden tools. There is no way to determine their age directly, but we can date the sediment in which they were found.
Using a technique called infrared stimulated luminescence, we analysed more than 10,000 individual grains of minerals from different layers. This showed the sediment was deposited roughly between 350,000 and 200,000 years ago.
Dating the different layers of sediment excavated at the site produced a detailed timeline. Liu et al. / Science
We also used different techniques to date a mammal tooth found in one of the layers to roughly 288,000 years old. This was consistent with the mineral results.
Next we used mathematical modelling to bring all the dating results together. Our model indicated that the layers containing stone tools and wooden implements date from 360–300,000 years ago to 290–250,000 years ago.
What was the environment like?
Our research indicates the ancient humans at Gantangqing inhabited a warm, humid, tropical or subtropical environment. Pollen extracted from the sediments reveals 40 plant families that confirm this climate.
Plant fossils further verify the presence of subtropical-to-tropical flora dominated by trees, lianas, shrubs and herbs. Wet-environment plants show the local surroundings were a lakeside or wetlands.
Animal fossils also fit this picture, including rhinoceros and other mammals, turtles and various birds. The ecosystem was likely a mosaic of grassland, thickets and forests. Evidence of diving ducks confirms the lake must have been at least 2–3 metres deep during human occupation.
The site contained evidence of plants such as storable pine nuts and hazelnuts, fruit trees such as kiwi, raspberry-like berries, grapes, edible herbs and fern fronds.
There were also aquatic plants that would have provided edible leaves, seeds, tubers and rhizomes. These were likely dug up from shallow mud near the shore, using wooden tools.
These findings suggest the Gantangqing hominins may have made expeditions to the lake shore, carrying purpose-made wooden digging sticks to harvest underground food sources. To do this, they would have had to anticipate seasonal plant distributions, know exactly what parts of different plants were edible, and produce specialised tools for different tasks.
Why the Gantangqing site is important
The wooden implements from Gantangqing represent the earliest known evidence for the use of digging sticks and for the exploitation of underground plant storage organs such as tubers within the Oriental biogeographic realm. Our discovery shows the use of sophisticated wood technology in a very different environmental context from what has been seen at sites of similar age in Europe and Africa.
The find significantly expands our understanding of early hominin woodworking capabilities.
The hominins who lived at Gantangqing appear to have lived a heavily plant-based subsistence lifestyle. This is in contrast to colder, more northern settings where tools of similar age have been found (such as Schöningen in Germany), where hunting large mammals was the key to survival.
The site also shows how important wood – and perhaps other organic materials – were to “stone age” hominins. These wooden artifacts show far more sophisticated manufacturing skill than the relative rudimentary stone tools found at sites of similar age across East and Southeast Asia.
The excavation, curation, and research of the Gantangqing site were supported by
National Cultural Heritage Administration (China), Yunnan Provincial Institute of
Cultural Relics and Archaeology, Yuxi Municipal Bureau of Culture and Tourism,
Chengjiang Municipal Bureau of Culture and Tourism, Australian Research Council
(ARC) Discovery Projects, Strategic Priority Research Program of the Chinese
Academy of Sciences, Hong Kong Research Grants Council (RGC), National Natural
Science Foundation of China (NSFC).
In 1962, poet and Auschwitz survivor Yehiel Dinur took the stand in Jerusalem in the trial of Nazi war criminal Adolf Eichmann. Dinur was a much-anticipated witness, bearing the audience’s hope this man, a poet, would be able to explain – to capture and to transmit – the experience of Auschwitz, and of the Holocaust; that he could speak the unspeakable. Prosecutor Gideon Hausner hoped such a witness might “do justice to the six million personal tragedies”.
Dinur used the name Katzetnik 135633 in his writings, also translated as “Prisoner 135663”. On the stand, he said: “I believe wholeheartedly that I have to continue to bear this name until the world awakens.”
Awakening, understanding, empathy and change are the sentiments many survivors hope for, or ask for, during and after periods of trauma. The 20th century saw many of those pleas. The 21st century has done no better at honouring the promise, captured in the title of the 1984 Argentinian commission report on forced disappearances, Nunca Mas: never again. No matter how many such pleas appear before the courts, before the aggressors, before those in solidarity, the horrors of war, torture, starvation and genocide seem to happen again – and again.
Three recent books from the region where war was been raging since the Hamas attacks on Israel on October 7 2023, and the ensuing war on Gaza, are part of these pleas.
Review: Eyes on Gaza – Plestia Alaqad (Macmillan), Letters from Gaza – edited by Mohammed Al-Zaqzooq & Mahmoud Alshaer (Penguin), Gates of Gaza – Amir Tibon (Scribe)
Eyes on Gaza is an on-the-ground account of the death and destruction of the first 45 days of the war by now 23-year-old Palestinian journalist Plestia Alaqad, who moved to Melbourne with her family in November 2023. Letters from Gaza is a collection of 50 stories, poems and fragments from Palestinian writers enduring the past 20 months. And Gates of Gaza is the story of Israeli journalist Amir Tibon, a resident of Nahal Oz, one of the border kibbutz attacked by Hamas on October 7.
Plestia Alaqad. Plestia
These are all first-person testimonies of experiences of being under attack, though those attacks differ. We might say they fit into the genre adopted in truth commissions, such as the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa: a response to the nation’s years of living under the apartheid laws, discarded when Nelson Mandela took power in 1994.
The commission was one effort to heal from this past. But, like the Eichmann trial, it needed stories to explain the histories of violence, and it needed the pain to be voiced to explain its impacts on communities, families and relationships.
The use of people’s narratives to “bear witness” to the complex layers of legally sanctioned and militarily executed pain, loss and the traumas they can produce, is sometimes effective in helping audiences understand them. The Bringing Them Home Report in 1997 used this form to explain the incidence and impacts of the forced removal of Indigenous children by the Australian state. It was effective as one form of creating a shared reality for all in Australia, who then understood the term “stolen generations” and the pain, loss and genocidal intent to which this phrase refers.
More recently, the Yoorrook Justice Commission in Victoria, Australia’s first formal truth-telling inquiry into historic and ongoing systemic injustices perpetrated against First Nations Peoples by colonisation, has also brought histories of loss, dispossession and abuse to light, using stories. Stories can make sense of the impact incurred through the intertwined web of policies, statistics, discrimination and quotidian violence at the hands of the state.
The work of testimony
The narratives in these books written since October 7 2023 are part of this genre of testimony or storytelling. But at least two of these books are not attempting to explain the past. They might be described better as pleas to stop what the International Court of Justice has called “a plausible genocide” happening in the present.
They are, in one reading, wishes for the world to understand the experience of pain, rage, loss, fear, distress and defeat that accompanies destruction and unbearable loss. A wish for the world to hear, or perhaps feel, the words on the page – and make the pain stop.
They wish the world would “awaken” to what is happening right now.
The dynamic of awakening is the stock in trade of truth commissions. One party testifies or speaks to an experience, and the audience wakes up to what has been happening. As a result, they either change or facilitate change. The truth, captured as testimony, is supposed to set people free. Not just the speaker, but the community of speakers weighed down by history – or by the struggles of the past or the present.
In legal forms the reason to speak is clear. The reason to speak in literature, biographies and works of nonfiction is less clear. What does the author want from us, the readers? But perhaps more importantly, what can we offer?
She wants the genocide to stop. She wants a free Palestine. She wants her home and her life back. The stories in this book show readers outside Gaza some of the life and death of those first six and a half weeks.
Her last entry before she leaves Gaza for Egypt – and then Australia – is dated Day 45. During those 45 days, she puts on a press helmet and jacket, which both give her protection and weigh her down. And then she speaks: to cameras, to followers, to anyone who will listen. Her social media feeds documenting the war gained worldwide attention, her Instagram following rising from around 3,700 to 4.1 million today.
There are too many deaths to be witnessed – by her and the reader. She describes genocide as an understatement for what is occurring in Gaza: “we lose more people than our hearts can handle”. She has seen so much death, heard so many screams. By day 30,
all you can hear is a voice crying for help from under the rubble. You turn your back and walk away, because there’s nothing you can do to help.
But Plestia’s project is more than documenting death. She is careful to show many aspects of life in Gaza. She shows how Palestinians retain relationships, family and pets. How a young boy just needs his “pot plant” from his destroyed house, under skies filled with drones and bombs. This is a plea for the genocide to stop, but it is also a celebration of being Palestinian. It is an homage to life in Gaza.
It is also a plea to see Palestinians as more than numbers – and more than how they are depicted by Israel.
“The world,” she says, “sometimes treats us like terrorists, trying to justify its complacency in allowing us to be massacred. And we know the perception, we read the propaganda just like everyone else. But the reality is that we’re the opposite.”
She describes gentle moments of love and care between her fellow journalists and the people they interview. The children they bring sweets for, the “bird lady” who renames her tortoise “Plestia” after her. Both Plestia the tortoise and the “bird lady” are now living in a tent. She speaks of the doctors who work tirelessly.
In the midst of brutal amputations and unimaginable burns, she recounts the care of a doctor giving cream for a skin rash that has tormented her, diagnosed as a product of her anxiety. Anxiety seems a gentle diagnosis for symptoms produced by witnessing and documenting such brutality.
Anxiety over her helplessness, perhaps, over the lack of sleep, of nourishing food: dwindling even in those first 45 days. Anxiety seems like a Western preoccupation, from this writing distance. What Plestia experiences seems more like layers of embodied distress. Her empathy allows her to feel, perhaps too much. Empathy can be an enemy.
Around page 100, she begins to deteriorate. “It’s funny how genocide changes a person,” she writes, describing herself as “Genocide Plestia”. She’s devastated, exhausted. She has lost hope. The journal entries are shorter, more repetitive.
They recite her helplessness with what Jacqueline Rose, co-director of the Birkbeck Institute for the Humanities, has called the “repetitive thud of referentiality”.
You feel Plestia’s effort to try to speak with some life in the pages, to use writing as a therapeutic tool. You wish it for her, but she has trouble summoning the energy, the life, any hope. As she poignantly quips: “Fake it till you make it doesn’t work during a Genocide”. What is there to say in such relentless days of loss?
You want Plestia to get up, you want a happy ending, for a conclusion to the painful story, but the problem is time. The reader’s time, the reality of time since she wrote her book.
Day 45, her last day in Gaza, is Monday November 20 2023. I read this book in June 2025, 646 days later – and it hasn’t stopped. When Plestia leaves Gaza and finally arrives here in Melbourne, the conditions she describes have been ongoing for more than 20 months. A recently released survey by the Palestinian Center for Policy and Survey Research estimates almost 84,000 people died in Gaza between October 2023 and early January 2025, as a result of the war. And that was six months ago.
50 letters from Gaza
The numbers are a way of reducing the experience of grief, devastation, loss (and the viewer’s guilt) to simple digits. Digits have no face and no sound. This is helpful to viewers, but it does not do justice to the 84,000, as Gideon Hausner knew well. No one awakens by hearing the numbers. But they matter.
In Letters from Gaza, psychologist Ahmed Mortaja fears becoming a news story, “a dull number … I don’t want my name and my family name to be reduced to mere numbers, whether odd or even”.
This book, a fragmented collection of 50 poems, stories and accounts, is devoted to giving life to those numbers. To animating the loss, so readers can apply their own imaginations, so we can understand the incomprehensible. It is a collection of fragments of lives since October 7 2023, squeezed into expressive pages. There is no “letter” more than six pages long. They are backed up against each other, permeating one another.
Each letter tells a different story and the same story. Each finds a detail that has no language: flowers in a girl’s hair, dreams of careers that will perhaps never be, the sounds of explosions. They are stories of the impossible search for bread, the longing for a bed and a pillow. And, as in Plestia’s account, they evoke the relentless buzz of the drones in the sky in Gaza: everywhere, all day, every day since October 7 2023. Like tinnitus, like torture.
The book begins with an effort to give names to numbers. On the first page, in the publisher’s note, we read that two of the authors, Sara al-Assar and Basma al-Hor, cannot be contacted. Because of communication lines and constant displacements, the details “may not reflect their current location or circumstances”. Authors may have died or been further displaced. Communication towers are destroyed. Tents are moved as people are moved on. Tents are destroyed.
In Plestia’s accounts, there are displacements to safe zones that then become unsafe, so they move again and again – until the only choice is tents, often without food or blankets. She describes seeing 33,000 people in a displacement shelter, this number increasing daily. Just as numbers are not people, tents are not homes. In Letters from Gaza, the displaced tents are character, metaphor and reality.
The stories are different, as are the deaths and losses within them, but these painful accounts help explain each other. The personal stories help animate words like displacement, refugee camp, genocide, so they do not fall into the pile of legal terms disconnected from names.
But after the United Nations declarations in the opening pages, we hear no more of law – and little of justice. As Palestinian human rights lawyer and founder of the Palestinian Centre for Human Rights, Raji Sourani said: Gaza is in danger of becoming “the graveyard of international law”. What is left are stories. The short stories, poems and brief accounts are packaged so they do not ask too much of the reader – just enough to provoke tears, and perhaps donations. Many readers will feel some of the helplessness in these pages.
There are stories of hunger; the loss of grandmothers and children. I cried many times reading this book, but the next story would quickly arrive and sometimes bring relief. There is something sad, but ordinary, about details like a cat who finds a tent too hot. Unlike Plestia’s clear analysis and summation of the genocide in Gaza, the politics of this book are comparably quiet. Not absent, but quiet. The word genocide is mentioned four times, “Holocaust” only once. (I counted.)
In Letters from Gaza, no one says Israel, only “the occupiers”. Husam Maarouf writes, “we no longer want anything from you […] Only to die in safety.” His entry is dated March 1 2024; he may well be dead. Batool Abu Akleen makes simple requests of the reader (or perhaps of God): “I want a grave, I don’t want my corpse to rot in the open road.” But the book seems to intentionally not accuse. We are told:
this is not a book about war. It is a book about human souls that strive to avoid being hunted down by war. It is about how innocents are forced to learn how to survive when everything around them is about killing, destruction and death.
But the accusation is there. How could it not be? Against Israel as occupier and aggressor – and the reader as bystander.
Accusation sometimes comes embedded in questions. “Is one person’s pain greater than another’s?” asks Gaza poet and teacher Doha Kahlout. This question resonates with one inscribed on the Holocaust Memorial Tree in Hungary: “Whose agony is greater than mine?”
When comparing agony, only one can live
Jewish author, philosopher and psychoanalyst Jessica Benjamin, writing on Palestine and Israeli peace struggles, cautions against pitting stories from Israel and Palestine against each other, such that “only one can live”. Only one story, one narrative, one version of pain and loss.
Holding multiple stories of suffering in mind is very difficult: for the survivor, for the listener and even for the psychoanalyst. Many survivors suffer symptoms of trauma that reduce the world to interpretation through their experience of its painful histories.
In Eyes of Gaza, writing from Melbourne, Plestia shows a moment of this:
On the train home, I see a lady with a suitcase, and the first thing that I think of is displacement, imagining how everyone in Gaza carries their whole life in their bag […] Then the announcement: Next Stop […] And I’m snapped back into reality.
In this moment, the suitcase is only read through the lens of the past. It’s what is described colloquially as living in the past – a type of banal flashback, often a symptom of trauma. But when pain colonises bodies and narratives, recognising the pain of others is difficult to see. It may be impossible to see the experiences of the other’s world through any other lens than one’s own pain. Whose agony is greater than mine? is a competitive statement, not a question.
In the war of greater pain, an Israeli child in fear may be read against a Palestinian child enduring the loss of their limbs and their whole family. Only one (story) can live.
To hold two competing stories of pain, loss and agony in mind requires a feat of mental health endurance few are capable of: the Nelson Mandelas of this world. Working in the field of transitional justice, I have met a few.
Most have experienced great loss and know there is no comparison at the level of agony. They resist “the repetitive thud of referentiality” because it drowns out conversation, annihilating curiosity and empathy alike. They know all stories must have their time.
In October 2023, “liberal” London Jewish journalist and filmmaker Michael Segalov, once a “staunch defender of Israel”, tried to hold competing stories. He wrote about seeing Israel–Palestine through the lens of “fear and trauma – of the Shoah, of the Nakba, of generations now born into perpetual fear”.
Early Jewish settlers were not “imperial soldiers”, but “a persecuted population failed by global governments pre and post Holocaust”, he points out. But by 1948, the year after the UN resolution that called for Palestine to be divided into Arab and Jewish states, “more than 750,000 Palestinians were made refugees, 15,000 killed”.
“While these lands might well feel a Jewish ancestral home,” he wrote, “within living memory, it was shared with another people: the majority.” In 1922, in the first census carried out under the British Mandate, the population of Palestine was 763,550: 89% were Arabs and 11% Jewish.
As Palestinian psychiatrist Eyad El Sarraj stressed while talking with Jessica Benjamin during peace negotiations, we must “stand simultaneously for the recognition of all injuries, while at the same time being clear that one side was coming from the position of Occupied and less powerful, the other Occupying and dominating”. Stories matter, politics matters.
And some stories take more time than others – some stories are given more time than others. This is a matter of politics and practicality.
Surviving the October 7 attacks
Israeli journalist Amir Tibon and his family survived the October 7 attack on Kibbutz Nahal Oz, on the Gaza border; they are now internal refugees in northern Israel. He and his partner settled in Nahal Oz and raised a family. On the morning of October 7, they heard the sounds of the attack and raced to their safe room, spending the next five hours in there trying to keep their children – Galia, 3 years old and Carmel, aged 19 months – quiet.
Amir Tibon and his family survived the Oct 7 attack on Kibbutz Nahal Oz, on the Gaza border. Scribe
In discussing Tibon’s book, Gates of Gaza: a story of betrayal, survival and hope in Israel’s borderlands, I risk comparison and competition. Sometimes stories speak to each other, even when they speak to the silences. I resisted this one’s proximity to the above stories. But that is also to resist reality. It is to resist the importance of difference. All experience is valuable, but sometimes comparison reveals inequality.
Plestia knows this well. The survivor guilt of which she writes is part of the hierarchy experienced by all survivors of mass violence. That she and her family survived, that she migrated, is to feel guilt for escaping the fate of those who have been starved, tortured, obliterated.
Yehiel Dinur spoke from this position of guilt on the stand in 1962, saying he was speaking for those who died in Auschwitz. In the face of others’ death, all survivors struggle with justification. Competition is one form of this: Whose agony is greater than mine?
Tibon was a resident of Nahal Oz, having moved there with his partner because of its beauty, nine years before October 7. He describes it as having “a strong, left-wing, liberal political leaning”, and says residents of the border areas are “some of the strongest advocates of Israeli–Palestinian peace”. He writes that the kibbutz movement has, “for decades”, been in favour of “a compromise that would allow Jews and Arabs to share this land, with agreed-upon borders – borders that, of course, would have to be protected”.
In the 300-plus pages, Tibon describes the morning of October 7 in detail. The fear of his children and his partner as they stayed quiet in a safe room for some five hours. The sounds of shootings and desperation as he read pleas and accounts from other residents on the community’s WhatsApp group as the attacks unfolded.
The narrative of that morning is interspersed with accounts from people who survived in his community: his parents, some of those who attended the Nova music festival, and Israeli Defense Force (IDF) soldiers. The narrative moves between that morning and a history of the kibbutz, framed in a history of Israel’s political lurching between right and left – and back again – over the 87 years since its recognition as a nation state by the UN.
In one reading, this is a history book of 87 years – not just an account of five hours. It is a particular history.
The narrative of those five hours is intense, peppered with stories of his parents racing from Tel Aviv to the kibbutz. Tibon’s father is a crucial figure in this narrative. A retired IDF general with “more than three decades” in the military, including combat experience, he seemingly has the capacity to assess situations and navigate a war zone with skill. It is his father who finally knocks on the “safe room” door in the afternoon (about halfway through the book). Tibon reports hearing “a strong bang and a familiar voice” from inside.
The father, we could say, is the embodiment of Tibon’s feelings for – and belief in – a strong, kind Israel. An army general, protective husband and grandfather (in Hebrew, Saba), he is longed for by Tibon’s young children, who “loved their grandparents”, particularly his father, “who pampered and spoiled them at every opportunity”. This grandfather’s presence at the safe-room door allows the family to re-enter the safety of Israel.
If the father is Israel, the sleeping children are its citizens. Carmel and Galia slept through much of the conflict, barely awakened by gunshots. They were rushed to the safe room the moment the shots were heard.
Once you know the stories from Letters of Gaza, it is hard not to compare this to the waking of Mohammed Al Zaqzooq’s three boys – Baraa, Jawad and Basil – to the sound of “Huge missiles in large numbers making terrifying sounds” and the need to flee. Not least, because Amir’s children were barely awakened by shots outside. Their safe room kept the noise muffled and the danger at bay. This is not to say their fear won’t impact on their actions later. Transgenerational trauma has a way of influencing the future.
Mohammed’s children moved quickly, within half an hour, to a refugee camp. At the time of writing, they remain there. His story is five pages long. Amir’s is 300-plus. Amir, an author and award-winning diplomatic correspondent for Haaretz, Israel’s liberal paper of record, has access to a computer, electricity and the security required to think, research and write.
But why does he write this book? In the acknowledgements, he describes himself as needing to be encouraged, unsure of the worth of telling the story of his five hours in the safe room. But he describes much more than five hours.
His book is a story of Israel – and particularly, of its informal settlements. In the early 1950s, he writes, 20 young soldiers – ten men and ten women – were taken by bus to this site to settle it. Nahal Oz is so close to Gaza, it has “agricultural lands which literally touch the border fence”. The kibbutzim functioned as a kind of human border, with increased populations: the 20 broke into couples, then families. Within a few years, they had a small farming community, with a person devoted to security.
Empty land?
This is not a story of military invasion and colonisation, however. It is a story of settlement on land represented as empty. We know this story well in Australia. In this context, it can be a plea for a recognition of innocence.
As Amir tells it, there were no Palestinians in the place before: no one was removed or relocated. Only in passing does he mention the Bedouin who passed through the area before.
In Australia, Irene Watson and Aileen Moreton-Robinson have, in different ways, explained lands do not need to be sites of permanent agriculture to be crucial to the survival of some groups or nations. Borders and settlements can disturb land, law and life regardless of whether houses are demolished or not.
The beauty of Nahal Oz, Amir writes, was due to its access to water and its site on fertile land, where trees provided shelter and probably food. Its loss was likely no small thing to people who required sustenance and shelter as they moved through. After the settlement, they no longer could.
After Israel set up its border there, only Israelis could pass through without being subject to the checkpoints that are well documented sites of humiliation and arbitrary punishment for Palestinians.
By 1997, the walls went up near Nahal Oz. But the walls to shield Nahal Oz from Gaza – and particularly from its people – were not enough. Amir describes the elaborate and extensive tunnels used by Palestinian soldiers to enter Israel (he calls them “terrorists” and “suicide bombers”).
The tunnels became the problem of Palestinian attacks on Israeli settlers. To deal with this problem, the concrete walls were built, reaching 160 metres underground, preventing any permeation. Then, on October 7, the walls could not provide security. Then, there was only the safe room.
The safe room is an obvious metaphor in this book. It is Israel under attack. One of these rooms has been built into every house in the kibbutz, so families can be safe from the mortar attacks from Gaza – a regular occurrence since the 1987 Intifada.
Plestia tells us that the materials for a safe room are not allowed to be brought into Gaza. There are no safe rooms there. Tibon doesn’t mention this; maybe he doesn’t even know this fact, which is its own symptom of the political and social environment in Israel.
He does describe “the unimaginable destruction that Israel has unleashed on Gaza in the aftermath” of the October 7 attacks. He is critical of this “destruction”, though he does not use the term genocide. (There are those who wait for the International Court of Justice to decide if it was more than “plausible” – and there are those who cannot wait.)
Tibon is critical of Israel’s right wing, which cultivates war. He wants peace. But peace here is its own violence.
Like the rhetoric of reconciliation in South Africa, calls for peace can do violence to historical experiences of injustice. There, reconciliation discourse has been criticised, along with its apolitical leanings. Reconciliation in South Africa has largely meant people subject to historical injustices must reconcile themselves to their losses and their reality.
A story attributed to Father Mxolisi Mapanbani, of Tom and Bernard and the bicycle, has been used many times to critique “reconciliation” rhetoric in South Africa. It is helpful here.
Tom and Bernard are friends and live opposite each other. One day, Tom stole Bernard’s bicycle. Every day, Bernard saw Tom cycling to school on it. After some time, Tom went up to Bernard and said, “Let us reconcile and put the past behind us.” Bernard said, “Okay, let’s reconcile – what about the bicycle?” “Oh no,” said Tom, “I’m not talking about the bicycle, I’m talking about reconciliation.”
In the Australian context, after Kevin Rudd’s apology to the stolen generations in 2008, human rights and social justice campaigner Tom Calma described this form of reconciliation as the “unfinished business of justice”.
The apology might have offered some form of acknowledgement, and gone some way toward creating a shared reality on the injustices of the past, but while justice remains unfinished, many are not at peace.
Amir wants peace. He doesn’t want to live in a safe house – but he wants his house and his family to live securely in Nahal Oz. He wants Palestinians to be at peace with this reality.
The word “peace”, like “reconciliation”, does a lot of work to present Tibon on the side of “the good”. Just like, in Letters From Gaza, the relative lack of the word “genocide” keeps the accusation at bay and politics in the background – and it keeps its calls for recognition of suffering at the fore. In this book about “human souls”, the editors call for a recognition of shared humanity.
Tibon is careful not to group “terrorists” under that name – though he uses a Hebrew word that means exactly that. (Mehablim, he calls the people who attacked Nahal Oz.) Why? Though he writes in English and undoubtably spoke Hebrew throughout the siege, why does he speak of the Palestinian attackers as Mehablim?
The answer might be found in the fact no Palestinian name, beyond former Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat, appears in these pages. He has interviewed many people, but none of them are Palestinian. Their narrative remains outside his text.
We must find the humanity of the Palestinians in other stories.
If the safe room is a metaphor for Israel, the tent – as described in so many of the stories in Letters from Gaza, and in Plestia’s account of those 45 days – is a metaphor for the lives of Palestinians in Israel, and perhaps the world’s eyes.
A tent is permeable, fragile, disposable. Bodies within it are subject to displacement, starvation, genocide. Every house in Tibon’s kibbutz has a safe room. There have been at least seven bombings of tent camps in Gaza. How can you not do the maths?
Stories, awakening and halting the bombs
Stories demand people are not reduced to mathematics. They place the reader in the scene and plead for identification and understanding. Writing on the Eichmann trial, Holocaust historian and legal scholar Lawrence Douglas describes “the words of the survivors that built a bridge from the accused to the world of ashes”.
Afrikaaner journalist and poet Antje Krog writes, on the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa, “In all the stories a landscape is created.”
But this landscape, if it is to have any effect, must be mapped across previous perceptions. For that, it must do damage to the secure world – the pre-existing imaginative landscape – of the reader or of the listener.
Moral philosopher Rai Gaita describes remorse as “a dying to the world”: a little death is required of the listener or reader who is implicated as a bystander, encountering the suffering of others. A death of complacency. A small disintegration that may mean our own peaceful worlds are no longer tenable.
This is why stories, particularly, are mobilised in truth commissions. They animate the impossible numbers – the dry policies and repetitive loss – with scenes of humanity. Testimony – personal stories – link the words (genocide, massacre, terror) to an imagination of a scene, a person, a child or a parent. To people we can identify or empathise with.
Like the two worlds connected in Ahmed Mortaja’s poem, Hubb and Harb, In Letters from Gaza:
tonight I will fall asleep telling myself that the noise outside is fireworks, a celebration and nothing more.
That the frightened screams of children are the gleeful terror of suspense before something long-awaited, like Eid.
Tonight, I will fall asleep scrolling through the photos on my phone, telling myself that my evening with friends wasn’t that great – really, I was bored – so now I’m skimming through memories to pass the time.
If empathy were all it took to halt the counting of the 646 days in Gaza, then Letters from Gaza and Eyes on Gaza would achieve their aim. But empathy rarely produces political change.
Stories – the 50 voices in Letters from Gaza, accounts like Plestia’s – make us cry, perhaps make us donate, but they do not halt the bombs. This, and more, might be what Yehiel Dinur meant when he asked for the world to “awaken”, that it change, that it stop what Tibon calls “the unimaginable destruction”.
Until then, Dinur pledged to remain Katzetnik 135633. Until then, we will likely only know “Genocide Plestia”: “it’s funny how genocide changes a person”.
Juliet Rogers does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
The demise of one of Hong Kong’s last major pro-democracy parties, the League of Social Democrats, is the latest blow to the city’s crumbling democratic credentials.
The league is the third major opposition party to disband this year. The announcement coincides with the fifth anniversary this week of the national security law, which was imposed by Beijing to suppress pro-democracy activity.
The loss of this grassroots party, historically populated by bold and colourful characters, vividly illustrates the dying of the light in once-sparkling Hong Kong.
The city is now greyed and labouring under a repressive internal security regime that has crushed civil society’s freedoms and democratic ambitions.
Authoritarian crackdown
The world witnessed Hong Kong at its brightest during the 2014 Umbrella Movement, when hundreds of thousands of pro-democracy protesters camped out on city streets for several months.
We also saw the brutal sequel in 2019, when paramilitarised police sought to put down further civil unrest and protesters fought back.
Since then, “lawfare” has been the preferred strategy of China’s national government and its Hong Kong satellite. The new approach has included a vast security apparatus and aggressive prosecutions.
When Beijing intervened in July 2020, it was nominally about national security. In reality, the new law was designed and used to bring Hongkongers to heel.
Civil freedoms were further curtailed by a home-grown security law, introduced last year to fill the gaps.
International standards such as the Johannesburg Principles, endorsed by the United Nations, require national security laws to be compatible with democratic principles, not to be used to eliminate democratic activity.
Prison or exile
The League of Social Democrats occupied the populist left of the pro-democracy spectrum. It stood apart from contemporaries such as the Democratic Party and the Civic Party, which were dominated by professionals and elites, and have since been disbanded.
The League was most notably represented by the likes of “Long Hair” Leung Kwok-hung– known for his Che Guevara t-shirts and banana-throwing – and broadcaster and journalism academic Raymond Wong Yuk-man, also known as “Mad Dog”.
Despite their rambunctious styles, these men had real political credentials and were repeatedly elected to legislative office. But Leung is now imprisoned for subversion, while Wong has left for Taiwan.
Leung Kwok-hung was sentenced to subversion under the national security law. Edwin Kwok/Shutterstock
Party leaders such as Jimmy Sham Tsz-kit and Figo Chan Ho-wun were also prominent within the Civil Human Rights Front. It was responsible for the annual July 1 protest march that attracted hundreds of thousands of people every year. The front is yet another pro-democracy organisation that has dissolved.
Sham and Chan have been jailed for subversion and unlawful assembly under the colonial-era Public Order Ordinance, which has been used to prosecute hundreds of activists.
Zero tolerance
The demise of these diverse organisations are not natural occurrences, but the result of a deliberate authoritarian programme.
Under China, Hong Kong’s political system has been half democratic at best. But it now resembles something from the darkest days of colonialism, with pre-approved candidates, appointed legislators and zero tolerance for critical voices.
Activists and watchdogs are stymied by the national security law. It criminalises – among other things – engagement and lobbying with international organisations and foreign governments.
Then there are the millions of ordinary Hongkongers whose dreams of a liberal and self-governing region under mainland China’s umbrella – as promised in the lead up to the 1997 handover – have been shattered.
But countless ex-protesters remain in the city, where it is impermissible to speak critically of power, and where mandatory patriotic education may ensure new generations will never even think to speak up.
Much blame lies with the British, who failed to institute democratic elections until the last gasp of their rule in Hong Kong. This was despite the colony tolerating liberalism and habit-forming democratic activity over a longer period.
Now China, after almost three decades in charge, has responded to democratic challenges by defaulting to authoritarian control. Hong Kong can only be grateful it has been spared a Tiananmen-style incident. Nor has it experienced the full genocidal extent of the so-called “peripheries playbook” Beijing has used in Tibet and Xinjiang.
Turmoil and authoritarian swings in the United States and elsewhere give China an opportunity to present as a voice of reason on the international stage.
But we should not forget its commitment to repressive politics at home, nor what its support of belligerent regimes such as Putin’s Russia might mean for Taiwan, the region and the world.
Above all, we should not forget the people, in Hong Kong and elsewhere, who made it their life’s work to achieve democracy only to be rewarded with prison or exile.
Brendan Clift 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.
Ruth First, born 100 years ago, was a South African freedom fighter, journalist and scholar who worked against the racist system of apartheid during white minority rule. She was assassinated by apartheid forces in her office at the Eduardo Mondlane University in Mozambique in 1982.
Her ideas, work and legacy live on. Sociologists Saleem Badat and Vasu Reddy have edited a new book called Research and Activism: Ruth First & Activist Research. We asked them about her and their project.
Who was Ruth First?
Heloise Ruth First was born on 4 May 1925 in Johannesburg to Jewish parents who had migrated from eastern Europe to South Africa in the early 1900s. Her parents were founder members of the South African Communist Party.
She joined the Young Communist League and the Federation of Progressive Students and graduated from the University of the Witwatersrand in 1946 with a Bachelor of Arts degree.
At 21, First joined the left-wing South African newspaper The Guardian. When it was banned, the New Age took its place until it too was banned in 1962. She served as the newspaper’s Johannesburg editor for 17 years.
In 1963, First was arrested at the University of the Witwatersrand library and held in solitary confinement for 117 days, during which time she was ruthlessly interrogated. The following year she and her three children left South Africa for England on an exit permit, where they joined her partner, the activist and politician Joe Slovo. She would not set foot again in South Africa. Continuing with her activist research in England, she taught at Durham University and then joined Eduardo Mondlane University until hear death.
The mid-1940s to early 1960s were tumultuous years in South Africa. With the rise of formal apartheid in 1948, racial segregation was intensified.
First’s intrepid and penetrating journalistic research exposed her to the brutality of labour exploitation and control on the mines and the farms. It reinforced her understanding of South Africa in Marxist terms.
The will to fight is born out of the desire for freedom.
She was confident that:
The power of the people is greater than the power of any government.
First believed that ignorance is “the enemy of progress and justice” and that knowledge and education are “key to empowering individuals and challenging oppressive systems”. These words ring true in today’s global events driven by right-wing authoritarianism, US imperialism and acts of genocide.
On learning of her death, former South African President Nelson Mandela recalled:
I was in prison when Ruth First was assassinated, felt almost alone. Lost a sister in arms … It is no consolation to know that she lives beyond her grave.
What is activist research and how is it applied in the book?
As authors, we revisit Ruth First’s life, work and ideas and its relevance for the current context. We focus especially on the nature of her scholarship and how she navigated the tensions between her activism and her research – whether journalistic or for her books on South West Africa (today’s Namibia), Libya or western investment in apartheid. Other of her acclaimed books included The Barrel of a Gun: Political Power in Africa and the Coup d’etat and, during her Mozambican sojourn, Black Gold: The Mozambican Miner, Proletarian and Peasant.
In the process we invite renewed critical reflection about her life and work. Inspired by First’s contributions, the book considers how universities and scholars engage with institutions and social movements beyond the university.
For example, in the book a research group from Durham University in the UK considers how to balance objectivity (showing no bias) with more politically participatory research methods and how objectivity can be enhanced despite the difficulties faced by activist research.
Other scholars reflect on the work of the assassinated South African anti-apartheid activist scholar and lecturer Rick Turner; on climate change; and on the complexities of undertaking activist research in Marikana with a women’s organisation, Sikhala Sonke. Marikana was the site where South African police opened fire on and killed 34 striking mineworkers in 2012.
There is examination of a research partnership between University of Cape Town activist scholars and some Khoi-San communities, reflection on the challenges of legal practice and education, and critical analysis of the decolonisation challenges of the KwaZulu-Natal Society of the Arts.
How do you frame activist research in your book?
The book shows that there is a difference between engaged research, critical research and activist research.
Engaged research tries to connect knowledge produced by academics with institutions, movements and experts outside the university to collaboratively address issues and promote cooperation.
Critical research uses radical critical theory to critique oppression and injustice, to show the gap between what exists today and more just ways of living. However, it does not necessarily connect with political and social movements.
First’s research was not only engaged, but also critical in orientation and activist in nature. As activist research it challenged oppression and inequality.
It both critiqued the status quo in South Africa and elsewhere and tried to change it. It was linked with movements and connected to political activism that was anti-colonial, anti-imperialist, and committed to socialism.
First’s activist research did not confine itself to the academic arena but engaged with larger, wider and more diverse publics. It used this experience to critique dominant and often limited thinking at universities and promoted other ways of producing knowledge. The expertise developed was used to improve scholarship in various ways.
What do you want readers to take away?
There is much talk about the “engaged university” and engaged research. However, only certain connections and engagements seem to be valued.
Prior to democracy in 1994, South African researchers connected with social movements for change. Now this is seldom the case. Universities and scholars largely engage with those with money – the state, business, elites and donors.
This raises questions about the roles of researchers in South Africa, whose interests are prioritised and the place of critical and activist research in the engaged university.
How should Ruth First be remembered?
We must honour her for her intellectual and practical activism. What matters is not just her knowledge archive, but also her example as both an outstanding interpreter of the world and an activist scholar committed to changing society in the interests of the downtrodden, marginalised and voiceless.
First was a critical and independent thinker who refused to accept anything as settled and beyond questioning. But that intellect was committed to loyalty to the national liberation movement of which she was an invaluable cadre.
The views expressed in this piece do not reflect or represent the position of the university to which Badat and Reddy are affiliated.
Saleem Badat receives funding from the National Institute for Humanities and Social Sciences and the Andrew W Mellon Foundation. He is a board member of the International Consortium for Critical Theory Programs and Alameda.
Vasu Reddy currently receives no external funding. He serves on the board of the Human Sciences Research Council Press
The recent resurgence of Canadian nationalism is a response to explicit threats made by United States President Donald Trump, who has repeatedly expressed his desire to make Canada the 51st American state.
Yet only a decade ago, the newly elected Justin Trudeau labelled Canada the first “post-national nation” in an interview with The New York Times. In essence, the prime minister suggested, Canada was moving beyond nationalism to some new phase of social identity. Nationalism, like a step in the launch of a spacecraft, would be jettisoned now that it was a vestigial and outdated feature of Canadian society.
As we argue in a recently presented paper to be published soon, Canadians are nowhere near either a homogeneous, popularly held identity, nor are they “beyond nationalism” as if it were an outdated hairstyle.
Instead, Canadian steps toward a united, widely held nationalism continue to be stymied by both substantial constitutional issues (Québec, western alienation, Indigenous aspirations to self-determination) but also by battles over banal symbols of national identity. Canadians are, in the words of journalist Ian Brown, “a unity of contradictions.”
The importance of symbols
In his influential book, Banal Nationalism, British social science scholar Michael Billig highlighted the role of symbols like stamps, currency and flags to identify barely noticed transmitters of national consciousness.
Writing in 1995, at a time of ethnic nationalist resurgence in the former Yugoslavia, Billig contrasted the understated, reserved nationalism of citizens of established states like Canada with the dangerous, passionate expressions of nationalism in the Balkans.
This genteel nationalism is barely noticed much of the time, but proposals to alter national symbols arouse debate — like during the great Canadian flag debate of the mid-1960s — and expose deep emotional attachments. Canadians, too, are nationalists.
But they’re also citizens of a liberal democracy where nationalistic narratives compete to define and unite the nation. Societies evolve and generational change can lead to new symbols reflecting changing values. The historical episodes of discontent pertaining to national symbols show how Canadian society has evolved since its drift away from Britain after the Second World War.
During the flag debate, Liberal Prime Minister Lester B. Pearson said Canada needed a new flag that would present a united nation rather than a confusing amalgamation of different people. Conservative Leader John Diefenbaker, on the other hand, argued Canada should be “all Canadian and all British” during the debate, adding that any Canadian who disagreed should “be denounced.”
The leaders could not agree, with Diefenbaker opting for something like the status quo and Pearson for a complete redesign that would represent all Canadians, regardless of national heritage. In a 1964 La Presse article on the debate, columnist Guy Cormier crudely voiced Québec’s concerns that Pearson’s handling of the flag debate was an attempt to “artificially inseminate” his agenda on the province. The Philadelphia Evening Bulletin reported on the debate, declaring that “tinkering with a nation’s flag is sort of like playing volleyball with a hornets nest.”
Despite government and RCMP support, public opinion was mixed. Racist lapel pins were sold with the message “Keep the RCMP Canadian” as some argued the old uniform should remain and that new recruits should adapt to it.
While few Canadians knew much about the design and history of the RCMP uniform, almost all Canadians consider it an iconic representation of Canada. Changes to it represent a threat to some, inclusion for others.
Removing images of the late Terry Fox in 2023 from the Canadian passport, a document few think about until checking its expiry date before a vacation, caused significant uproar.
Other images from Canadian history were also removed, but Fox’s removal was most notable since he was someone most Canadians consider the embodiment of a Canadian hero.
Far from trivial, these arguments over national symbols reveal how deeply some Canadians are attached to them. The nature of Canadian identity and nationalism will continue to be dated and contested. In that respect, Canadians are no different than the citizens of any other country.
The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
The recent resurgence of Canadian nationalism is a response to explicit threats made by United States President Donald Trump, who has repeatedly expressed his desire to make Canada the 51st American state.
Yet only a decade ago, the newly elected Justin Trudeau labelled Canada the first “post-national nation” in an interview with The New York Times. In essence, the prime minister suggested, Canada was moving beyond nationalism to some new phase of social identity. Nationalism, like a step in the launch of a spacecraft, would be jettisoned now that it was a vestigial and outdated feature of Canadian society.
As we argue in a recently presented paper to be published soon, Canadians are nowhere near either a homogeneous, popularly held identity, nor are they “beyond nationalism” as if it were an outdated hairstyle.
Instead, Canadian steps toward a united, widely held nationalism continue to be stymied by both substantial constitutional issues (Québec, western alienation, Indigenous aspirations to self-determination) but also by battles over banal symbols of national identity. Canadians are, in the words of journalist Ian Brown, “a unity of contradictions.”
The importance of symbols
In his influential book, Banal Nationalism, British social science scholar Michael Billig highlighted the role of symbols like stamps, currency and flags to identify barely noticed transmitters of national consciousness.
Writing in 1995, at a time of ethnic nationalist resurgence in the former Yugoslavia, Billig contrasted the understated, reserved nationalism of citizens of established states like Canada with the dangerous, passionate expressions of nationalism in the Balkans.
This genteel nationalism is barely noticed much of the time, but proposals to alter national symbols arouse debate — like during the great Canadian flag debate of the mid-1960s — and expose deep emotional attachments. Canadians, too, are nationalists.
But they’re also citizens of a liberal democracy where nationalistic narratives compete to define and unite the nation. Societies evolve and generational change can lead to new symbols reflecting changing values. The historical episodes of discontent pertaining to national symbols show how Canadian society has evolved since its drift away from Britain after the Second World War.
During the flag debate, Liberal Prime Minister Lester B. Pearson said Canada needed a new flag that would present a united nation rather than a confusing amalgamation of different people. Conservative Leader John Diefenbaker, on the other hand, argued Canada should be “all Canadian and all British” during the debate, adding that any Canadian who disagreed should “be denounced.”
The leaders could not agree, with Diefenbaker opting for something like the status quo and Pearson for a complete redesign that would represent all Canadians, regardless of national heritage. In a 1964 La Presse article on the debate, columnist Guy Cormier crudely voiced Québec’s concerns that Pearson’s handling of the flag debate was an attempt to “artificially inseminate” his agenda on the province. The Philadelphia Evening Bulletin reported on the debate, declaring that “tinkering with a nation’s flag is sort of like playing volleyball with a hornets nest.”
Despite government and RCMP support, public opinion was mixed. Racist lapel pins were sold with the message “Keep the RCMP Canadian” as some argued the old uniform should remain and that new recruits should adapt to it.
While few Canadians knew much about the design and history of the RCMP uniform, almost all Canadians consider it an iconic representation of Canada. Changes to it represent a threat to some, inclusion for others.
Removing images of the late Terry Fox in 2023 from the Canadian passport, a document few think about until checking its expiry date before a vacation, caused significant uproar.
Other images from Canadian history were also removed, but Fox’s removal was most notable since he was someone most Canadians consider the embodiment of a Canadian hero.
Far from trivial, these arguments over national symbols reveal how deeply some Canadians are attached to them. The nature of Canadian identity and nationalism will continue to be dated and contested. In that respect, Canadians are no different than the citizens of any other country.
The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Ruth First, born 100 years ago, was a South African freedom fighter, journalist and scholar who worked against the racist system of apartheid during white minority rule. She was assassinated by apartheid forces in her office at the Eduardo Mondlane University in Mozambique in 1982.
Her ideas, work and legacy live on. Sociologists Saleem Badat and Vasu Reddy have edited a new book called Research and Activism: Ruth First & Activist Research. We asked them about her and their project.
Who was Ruth First?
Heloise Ruth First was born on 4 May 1925 in Johannesburg to Jewish parents who had migrated from eastern Europe to South Africa in the early 1900s. Her parents were founder members of the South African Communist Party.
She joined the Young Communist League and the Federation of Progressive Students and graduated from the University of the Witwatersrand in 1946 with a Bachelor of Arts degree.
At 21, First joined the left-wing South African newspaper The Guardian. When it was banned, the New Age took its place until it too was banned in 1962. She served as the newspaper’s Johannesburg editor for 17 years.
In 1963, First was arrested at the University of the Witwatersrand library and held in solitary confinement for 117 days, during which time she was ruthlessly interrogated. The following year she and her three children left South Africa for England on an exit permit, where they joined her partner, the activist and politician Joe Slovo. She would not set foot again in South Africa. Continuing with her activist research in England, she taught at Durham University and then joined Eduardo Mondlane University until hear death.
The mid-1940s to early 1960s were tumultuous years in South Africa. With the rise of formal apartheid in 1948, racial segregation was intensified.
First’s intrepid and penetrating journalistic research exposed her to the brutality of labour exploitation and control on the mines and the farms. It reinforced her understanding of South Africa in Marxist terms.
The will to fight is born out of the desire for freedom.
She was confident that:
The power of the people is greater than the power of any government.
First believed that ignorance is “the enemy of progress and justice” and that knowledge and education are “key to empowering individuals and challenging oppressive systems”. These words ring true in today’s global events driven by right-wing authoritarianism, US imperialism and acts of genocide.
On learning of her death, former South African President Nelson Mandela recalled:
I was in prison when Ruth First was assassinated, felt almost alone. Lost a sister in arms … It is no consolation to know that she lives beyond her grave.
What is activist research and how is it applied in the book?
As authors, we revisit Ruth First’s life, work and ideas and its relevance for the current context. We focus especially on the nature of her scholarship and how she navigated the tensions between her activism and her research – whether journalistic or for her books on South West Africa (today’s Namibia), Libya or western investment in apartheid. Other of her acclaimed books included The Barrel of a Gun: Political Power in Africa and the Coup d’etat and, during her Mozambican sojourn, Black Gold: The Mozambican Miner, Proletarian and Peasant.
In the process we invite renewed critical reflection about her life and work. Inspired by First’s contributions, the book considers how universities and scholars engage with institutions and social movements beyond the university.
For example, in the book a research group from Durham University in the UK considers how to balance objectivity (showing no bias) with more politically participatory research methods and how objectivity can be enhanced despite the difficulties faced by activist research.
Other scholars reflect on the work of the assassinated South African anti-apartheid activist scholar and lecturer Rick Turner; on climate change; and on the complexities of undertaking activist research in Marikana with a women’s organisation, Sikhala Sonke. Marikana was the site where South African police opened fire on and killed 34 striking mineworkers in 2012.
There is examination of a research partnership between University of Cape Town activist scholars and some Khoi-San communities, reflection on the challenges of legal practice and education, and critical analysis of the decolonisation challenges of the KwaZulu-Natal Society of the Arts.
How do you frame activist research in your book?
The book shows that there is a difference between engaged research, critical research and activist research.
Engaged research tries to connect knowledge produced by academics with institutions, movements and experts outside the university to collaboratively address issues and promote cooperation.
Critical research uses radical critical theory to critique oppression and injustice, to show the gap between what exists today and more just ways of living. However, it does not necessarily connect with political and social movements.
First’s research was not only engaged, but also critical in orientation and activist in nature. As activist research it challenged oppression and inequality.
It both critiqued the status quo in South Africa and elsewhere and tried to change it. It was linked with movements and connected to political activism that was anti-colonial, anti-imperialist, and committed to socialism.
First’s activist research did not confine itself to the academic arena but engaged with larger, wider and more diverse publics. It used this experience to critique dominant and often limited thinking at universities and promoted other ways of producing knowledge. The expertise developed was used to improve scholarship in various ways.
What do you want readers to take away?
There is much talk about the “engaged university” and engaged research. However, only certain connections and engagements seem to be valued.
Prior to democracy in 1994, South African researchers connected with social movements for change. Now this is seldom the case. Universities and scholars largely engage with those with money – the state, business, elites and donors.
This raises questions about the roles of researchers in South Africa, whose interests are prioritised and the place of critical and activist research in the engaged university.
How should Ruth First be remembered?
We must honour her for her intellectual and practical activism. What matters is not just her knowledge archive, but also her example as both an outstanding interpreter of the world and an activist scholar committed to changing society in the interests of the downtrodden, marginalised and voiceless.
First was a critical and independent thinker who refused to accept anything as settled and beyond questioning. But that intellect was committed to loyalty to the national liberation movement of which she was an invaluable cadre.
The views expressed in this piece do not reflect or represent the position of the university to which Badat and Reddy are affiliated.
Saleem Badat receives funding from the National Institute for Humanities and Social Sciences and the Andrew W Mellon Foundation. He is a board member of the International Consortium for Critical Theory Programs and Alameda.
Vasu Reddy currently receives no external funding. He serves on the board of the Human Sciences Research Council Press
Ruth First, born 100 years ago, was a South African freedom fighter, journalist and scholar who worked against the racist system of apartheid during white minority rule. She was assassinated by apartheid forces in her office at the Eduardo Mondlane University in Mozambique in 1982.
Her ideas, work and legacy live on. Sociologists Saleem Badat and Vasu Reddy have edited a new book called Research and Activism: Ruth First & Activist Research. We asked them about her and their project.
Who was Ruth First?
Heloise Ruth First was born on 4 May 1925 in Johannesburg to Jewish parents who had migrated from eastern Europe to South Africa in the early 1900s. Her parents were founder members of the South African Communist Party.
She joined the Young Communist League and the Federation of Progressive Students and graduated from the University of the Witwatersrand in 1946 with a Bachelor of Arts degree.
At 21, First joined the left-wing South African newspaper The Guardian. When it was banned, the New Age took its place until it too was banned in 1962. She served as the newspaper’s Johannesburg editor for 17 years.
In 1963, First was arrested at the University of the Witwatersrand library and held in solitary confinement for 117 days, during which time she was ruthlessly interrogated. The following year she and her three children left South Africa for England on an exit permit, where they joined her partner, the activist and politician Joe Slovo. She would not set foot again in South Africa. Continuing with her activist research in England, she taught at Durham University and then joined Eduardo Mondlane University until hear death.
The mid-1940s to early 1960s were tumultuous years in South Africa. With the rise of formal apartheid in 1948, racial segregation was intensified.
First’s intrepid and penetrating journalistic research exposed her to the brutality of labour exploitation and control on the mines and the farms. It reinforced her understanding of South Africa in Marxist terms.
The will to fight is born out of the desire for freedom.
She was confident that:
The power of the people is greater than the power of any government.
First believed that ignorance is “the enemy of progress and justice” and that knowledge and education are “key to empowering individuals and challenging oppressive systems”. These words ring true in today’s global events driven by right-wing authoritarianism, US imperialism and acts of genocide.
On learning of her death, former South African President Nelson Mandela recalled:
I was in prison when Ruth First was assassinated, felt almost alone. Lost a sister in arms … It is no consolation to know that she lives beyond her grave.
What is activist research and how is it applied in the book?
As authors, we revisit Ruth First’s life, work and ideas and its relevance for the current context. We focus especially on the nature of her scholarship and how she navigated the tensions between her activism and her research – whether journalistic or for her books on South West Africa (today’s Namibia), Libya or western investment in apartheid. Other of her acclaimed books included The Barrel of a Gun: Political Power in Africa and the Coup d’etat and, during her Mozambican sojourn, Black Gold: The Mozambican Miner, Proletarian and Peasant.
In the process we invite renewed critical reflection about her life and work. Inspired by First’s contributions, the book considers how universities and scholars engage with institutions and social movements beyond the university.
For example, in the book a research group from Durham University in the UK considers how to balance objectivity (showing no bias) with more politically participatory research methods and how objectivity can be enhanced despite the difficulties faced by activist research.
Other scholars reflect on the work of the assassinated South African anti-apartheid activist scholar and lecturer Rick Turner; on climate change; and on the complexities of undertaking activist research in Marikana with a women’s organisation, Sikhala Sonke. Marikana was the site where South African police opened fire on and killed 34 striking mineworkers in 2012.
There is examination of a research partnership between University of Cape Town activist scholars and some Khoi-San communities, reflection on the challenges of legal practice and education, and critical analysis of the decolonisation challenges of the KwaZulu-Natal Society of the Arts.
How do you frame activist research in your book?
The book shows that there is a difference between engaged research, critical research and activist research.
Engaged research tries to connect knowledge produced by academics with institutions, movements and experts outside the university to collaboratively address issues and promote cooperation.
Critical research uses radical critical theory to critique oppression and injustice, to show the gap between what exists today and more just ways of living. However, it does not necessarily connect with political and social movements.
First’s research was not only engaged, but also critical in orientation and activist in nature. As activist research it challenged oppression and inequality.
It both critiqued the status quo in South Africa and elsewhere and tried to change it. It was linked with movements and connected to political activism that was anti-colonial, anti-imperialist, and committed to socialism.
First’s activist research did not confine itself to the academic arena but engaged with larger, wider and more diverse publics. It used this experience to critique dominant and often limited thinking at universities and promoted other ways of producing knowledge. The expertise developed was used to improve scholarship in various ways.
What do you want readers to take away?
There is much talk about the “engaged university” and engaged research. However, only certain connections and engagements seem to be valued.
Prior to democracy in 1994, South African researchers connected with social movements for change. Now this is seldom the case. Universities and scholars largely engage with those with money – the state, business, elites and donors.
This raises questions about the roles of researchers in South Africa, whose interests are prioritised and the place of critical and activist research in the engaged university.
How should Ruth First be remembered?
We must honour her for her intellectual and practical activism. What matters is not just her knowledge archive, but also her example as both an outstanding interpreter of the world and an activist scholar committed to changing society in the interests of the downtrodden, marginalised and voiceless.
First was a critical and independent thinker who refused to accept anything as settled and beyond questioning. But that intellect was committed to loyalty to the national liberation movement of which she was an invaluable cadre.
The views expressed in this piece do not reflect or represent the position of the university to which Badat and Reddy are affiliated.
Saleem Badat receives funding from the National Institute for Humanities and Social Sciences and the Andrew W Mellon Foundation. He is a board member of the International Consortium for Critical Theory Programs and Alameda.
Vasu Reddy currently receives no external funding. He serves on the board of the Human Sciences Research Council Press
Ruth First, born 100 years ago, was a South African freedom fighter, journalist and scholar who worked against the racist system of apartheid during white minority rule. She was assassinated by apartheid forces in her office at the Eduardo Mondlane University in Mozambique in 1982.
Her ideas, work and legacy live on. Sociologists Saleem Badat and Vasu Reddy have edited a new book called Research and Activism: Ruth First & Activist Research. We asked them about her and their project.
Who was Ruth First?
Heloise Ruth First was born on 4 May 1925 in Johannesburg to Jewish parents who had migrated from eastern Europe to South Africa in the early 1900s. Her parents were founder members of the South African Communist Party.
She joined the Young Communist League and the Federation of Progressive Students and graduated from the University of the Witwatersrand in 1946 with a Bachelor of Arts degree.
At 21, First joined the left-wing South African newspaper The Guardian. When it was banned, the New Age took its place until it too was banned in 1962. She served as the newspaper’s Johannesburg editor for 17 years.
In 1963, First was arrested at the University of the Witwatersrand library and held in solitary confinement for 117 days, during which time she was ruthlessly interrogated. The following year she and her three children left South Africa for England on an exit permit, where they joined her partner, the activist and politician Joe Slovo. She would not set foot again in South Africa. Continuing with her activist research in England, she taught at Durham University and then joined Eduardo Mondlane University until hear death.
The mid-1940s to early 1960s were tumultuous years in South Africa. With the rise of formal apartheid in 1948, racial segregation was intensified.
First’s intrepid and penetrating journalistic research exposed her to the brutality of labour exploitation and control on the mines and the farms. It reinforced her understanding of South Africa in Marxist terms.
The will to fight is born out of the desire for freedom.
She was confident that:
The power of the people is greater than the power of any government.
First believed that ignorance is “the enemy of progress and justice” and that knowledge and education are “key to empowering individuals and challenging oppressive systems”. These words ring true in today’s global events driven by right-wing authoritarianism, US imperialism and acts of genocide.
On learning of her death, former South African President Nelson Mandela recalled:
I was in prison when Ruth First was assassinated, felt almost alone. Lost a sister in arms … It is no consolation to know that she lives beyond her grave.
What is activist research and how is it applied in the book?
As authors, we revisit Ruth First’s life, work and ideas and its relevance for the current context. We focus especially on the nature of her scholarship and how she navigated the tensions between her activism and her research – whether journalistic or for her books on South West Africa (today’s Namibia), Libya or western investment in apartheid. Other of her acclaimed books included The Barrel of a Gun: Political Power in Africa and the Coup d’etat and, during her Mozambican sojourn, Black Gold: The Mozambican Miner, Proletarian and Peasant.
In the process we invite renewed critical reflection about her life and work. Inspired by First’s contributions, the book considers how universities and scholars engage with institutions and social movements beyond the university.
For example, in the book a research group from Durham University in the UK considers how to balance objectivity (showing no bias) with more politically participatory research methods and how objectivity can be enhanced despite the difficulties faced by activist research.
Other scholars reflect on the work of the assassinated South African anti-apartheid activist scholar and lecturer Rick Turner; on climate change; and on the complexities of undertaking activist research in Marikana with a women’s organisation, Sikhala Sonke. Marikana was the site where South African police opened fire on and killed 34 striking mineworkers in 2012.
There is examination of a research partnership between University of Cape Town activist scholars and some Khoi-San communities, reflection on the challenges of legal practice and education, and critical analysis of the decolonisation challenges of the KwaZulu-Natal Society of the Arts.
How do you frame activist research in your book?
The book shows that there is a difference between engaged research, critical research and activist research.
Engaged research tries to connect knowledge produced by academics with institutions, movements and experts outside the university to collaboratively address issues and promote cooperation.
Critical research uses radical critical theory to critique oppression and injustice, to show the gap between what exists today and more just ways of living. However, it does not necessarily connect with political and social movements.
First’s research was not only engaged, but also critical in orientation and activist in nature. As activist research it challenged oppression and inequality.
It both critiqued the status quo in South Africa and elsewhere and tried to change it. It was linked with movements and connected to political activism that was anti-colonial, anti-imperialist, and committed to socialism.
First’s activist research did not confine itself to the academic arena but engaged with larger, wider and more diverse publics. It used this experience to critique dominant and often limited thinking at universities and promoted other ways of producing knowledge. The expertise developed was used to improve scholarship in various ways.
What do you want readers to take away?
There is much talk about the “engaged university” and engaged research. However, only certain connections and engagements seem to be valued.
Prior to democracy in 1994, South African researchers connected with social movements for change. Now this is seldom the case. Universities and scholars largely engage with those with money – the state, business, elites and donors.
This raises questions about the roles of researchers in South Africa, whose interests are prioritised and the place of critical and activist research in the engaged university.
How should Ruth First be remembered?
We must honour her for her intellectual and practical activism. What matters is not just her knowledge archive, but also her example as both an outstanding interpreter of the world and an activist scholar committed to changing society in the interests of the downtrodden, marginalised and voiceless.
First was a critical and independent thinker who refused to accept anything as settled and beyond questioning. But that intellect was committed to loyalty to the national liberation movement of which she was an invaluable cadre.
The views expressed in this piece do not reflect or represent the position of the university to which Badat and Reddy are affiliated.
Saleem Badat receives funding from the National Institute for Humanities and Social Sciences and the Andrew W Mellon Foundation. He is a board member of the International Consortium for Critical Theory Programs and Alameda.
Vasu Reddy currently receives no external funding. He serves on the board of the Human Sciences Research Council Press
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