At a time of political tension in Germany, the Bauhaus – arguably one of most influential architecture, art and design schools in the world – has become the target of far-right attacks.
Hans-Thomas Tillschneider, a member of the far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD) and a member of the regional parliament of Saxony-Anhalt in eastern Germany, has blamed his area’s economic problems on Bauhaus modernism.
His unlikely diagnosis came in response to the regional conservative CDU government’s “think modern” campaign, which seeks to attract investment into the area and cites the Bauhaus movement as an example of locally grown excellence.
Tillschneider asserts that for the area’s economic stagnation to be resolved “we do not need to think modern, we need to think conservatively.” He rejects Bauhaus ideas as diffused with communist ideology. With these attacks, Tillschneider has started a quasi-re-enactment of a historical culture war over German national identity and social anxieties.
Founded in 1919 by architect Walter Gropius in the German city of Weimar, the Bauhaus and its staff shared a programme of material utopianism. This was expressed via an explorative workshop concept that departed from traditional modes of teaching.
Such avant-garde practices moved the Bauhaus politically to the left, which would make it vulnerable to ideological attack throughout the Weimar republic, Germany’s first (and failed) democracy.
In the contentious debate about national identity that followed the end of the monarchy in 1918, Bauhaus artists inhabited an uncomfortable position between two schools of thought among the educated elite.
One side had opened up to modern aesthetics (such as impressionism and expressionism). The other – the conservatives – instead embraced an artistic nationalism that had manifested with German unification in 1871.
They saw “true art” as coming from the people and in turn educating them as loyal citizens. Aesthetically, conservatives found these values expressed in Weimar classicism. Curiously, given the emphasis on art by the people, this was a rather exclusive, high-brow form of literature, theatre and visual arts.
Bauhaus ideas, instead, were anti-bourgeois, avant-garde and experimental, while at the same time postulating the importance of creating art for everyone to access and enjoy. Such democratisation of style, however, was difficult to achieve, and most of what the Bauhaus produced remained unaffordable to the masses. Nevertheless, these clashing visions politicised culture during the interwar years.
The reconstructed Bauhaus school in Dessau. Wikipedia/Lelikron, CC BY-SA
In 1925, the school had to move from Weimar to Dessau (in Saxony-Anhalt) after it lost its funding. This was the fallout of a dispute with the conservative political parties that ruled the city at the time.
In Dessau, the Bauhaus teachers built a school building that followed their modern aesthetic principles. Despite repeated attempts by Gropius to depoliticise the Bauhaus by pointing to its aesthetic pluralism, internal debates about the place of architecture in society and politics continued.
The point of contention was the concept of “New Objectivity” (Neue Sachlichkeit) which found expression in Neues Bauen: modularised construction which introduced the industrialised pre-fabrication of building parts in a turn away from traditional crafts.
Eventually, Gropius left the Bauhaus and in his place came the openly socialist architect Hannes Meyer. After taking over as director in 1928, he repoliticised the school and moved it back to the left.
In the heated political climate of the late Weimar republic, the Bauhaus encountered a new existential threat. When the Nazis took over in local elections in 1931, they requested the destruction of the Bauhaus school.
The Bauhaus moved again in 1932, this time to Berlin, where it continued as a private institution to avoid renewed conflict with the ever more powerful Nazis. Nevertheless, when Adolf Hitler seized power in early 1933, the school and its staff became victims of the Nazis’ anti-socialist measures.
The Bauhaus school closed on July 20 1933 and its staff dispersed, often to faraway places. Many went to the United States, where they continued in the legacy of the “Bauhaus spirit” by joining the international modernism movement that became the defining Western aesthetic in the 1950s.
Although the artistic influences and expressions had remained diverse throughout the lifetime of the school, postwar discourse has streamlined it to simple geometric shapes, a preference for the colours white, blue, red and yellow, and an emphasis on horizontal lines and perspectives.
The Nazis had labelled Bauhaus aesthetics as “degenerate”. In the cold war era, the socialist East German government called out Bauhaus modernism and its disciples as cosmopolitan in the pejorative sense.
They were accused of abandoning German national heritage for the sake of international “formalism”, elevating form – as pertaining to function – over cultural content. Tillschneider has put it even more provocatively: “They denied man’s connection to land and his cultural roots”. While a huge interpretative overstretch, these statements do not come as a surprise.
This year marks the centennial of the move to Dessau, where the school building still stands proudly as a Unesco world heritage site. Tillschneider used this moment to perpetuate the culture war that the AfD has become known for over the past decade.
He is equating the CDU to an oversimplified depiction of the Bauhaus legacy – one that is anti-crafts, anti-bourgeois and internationalist – he implies his political rivals are against German tradition and culture. These are the nativist sentiments that fuel the AfD. It is a strategy of cheap wins at the expense of the electorate’s anxieties about Germany’s cultural and national identity.
Katrin Schreiter 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 Léonie de Jonge, Professor of Research on Far-Right Extremism, Institute for Research on Far-Right Extremism (IRex), University of Tübingen
In the weeks ahead of the German election, the far-right party Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) consistently polled around 20%. For the first time, the AfD poses a challenge to mainstream parties’ longstanding strategy of isolating the far right.
The rise of the AfD is striking, given the country’s history of authoritarianism and National Socialism during the 1930s and 1940s. For decades, far-right movements were generally stigmatised and treated as pariahs. Political elites, mainstream parties, the media and civil society effectively marginalised the far right and limited its electoral prospects.
The AfD’s breakthrough in the 2017 federal election shattered this status quo. Winning 12.6% of the vote and securing 94 Bundestag seats, it became Germany’s third-largest party — unlocking viable political space to the right of the centre-right party CDU/CSU for the first time in the postwar era.
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The AfD was founded in 2013 by disaffected CDU members. This included economics professors Bernd Lucke and Joachim Starbatty, and conservative journalists Konrad Adam and Alexander Gauland. It began as a single-issue, anti-euro party advocating Germany’s exit from the Eurozone.
Dubbed a “party of professors”, it gained credibility through the support of academics and former mainstream politicians, lending it an “unusual gravitas” for a protest party. While nativist elements were arguably present from the start, the AfD was not initially conceived as a far-right party.
When it first ran for the Bundestag in 2013, its four-page manifesto focused exclusively on dissolving the Eurozone. At the time, the party advocated political asylum for the persecuted and avoided harsh anti-immigrant or anti-Islam rhetoric, cultivating more of a “bourgeois” image.
This helped the AfD build what political scientist Elisabeth Ivarsflaten has called a reputational shield — a legacy used to deflect social stigma and accusations of extremism.
Initially, the AfD distanced itself from far-right parties in neighbouring countries. However, successive leadership changes between 2015 and 2017 saw the party adopt a more hardline position, particularly on immigration, Islam and national identity. By 2016, its platform had largely aligned with those of populist radical right parties elsewhere.
Far-right views
Today, the party can unequivocally be classified as far right. This umbrella term captures the growing links between “(populist) radical right” (illiberal-democratic) and “extreme right” (anti-democratic) parties and movements. Ideologically, the far right is characterised by nativism and authoritarianism.
Nativism is a xenophobic form of nationalism, which holds that non-native elements form a threat to the homogeneous nation-state. In Germany, nativism carries a historical legacy. “Völkisch nationalism” was one of the core ideas of the 19th and early 20th centuries that was broadly adopted by National Socialism to justify deportations and, ultimately, the Holocaust.
Völkisch ideology is based on the essentialist idea that the German people are inextricably connected to the soil. Thus, other people cannot be part of the völkisch community.
The AfD has evolved into a far-right party by continuously radicalising its positions. It acted like a Trojan horse, importing völkisch nationalist ideology into the parliamentary and public arena, which used to be blocked by the gatekeeping mechanisms of German democracy.
The AfD carved out a niche for itself by advocating stricter anti-immigration policies. This came in response to the so-called “refugee crisis”, when then-Chancellor Angela Merkel welcomed more than a million asylum seekers into Germany. At its campaign kickoff rally in January 2025, AfD’s chancellor candidate Alice Weidel vowed to implement “large-scale repatriations” (or “remigration”) of immigrants.
The party advocates a return to a blood-based citizenship, insisting that, with very few exceptions for well-assimilated migrants, citizenship can only be determined by ancestry and bloodline rather than birthright.
Additionally, the party upholds the white, nuclear family as an ideal and has pledged to dismiss university professors accused of promoting “leftist, woke gender ideology”. The party also calls for the immediate lifting of sanctions against Russia and opposes weapons deliveries to Ukraine.
In recent years, the party has embraced the far-right strategy of flooding the media and public discourse with controversy, misinformation and inflammatory rhetoric, to dominate attention and transgress traditional political norms.
A striking example is former AfD-leader Alexander Gauland’s 2018 claim that the 12 years of Nazi rule were “mere bird shit in over 1,000 years of successful German history”. With this remark, he sought to reframe modern Germany as a continuation of its pre-1933 history, while downplaying the significance of the Nazi era.
Normalising the AfD
Until recently, the far right was consistently excluded by mainstream political parties. It was a founding myth of the old Federal Republic of Germany that democratic forces do not cooperate with the far right. At least on the parliamentary level, this worked quite well as a part of Germany’s “militant democracy”.
However, the political firewall — the Brandmauer — has started to crumble. The AfD has since celebrated the election of its first mayors at the local level.
The success of the AfD has especially been fuelled by the narrative of a “refugee crisis” in Germany. Harsh political rhetoric about migration has contributed to the party’s electoral success, as well as mainstream adoption of some of its positions.
Oddly enough, the AfD is especially successful in rural, remote areas with low levels of migration. It is weak in more globalised, university-oriented urban areas.
Ahead of the 2025 elections, Friedrich Merz, the lead candidate of the CDU, broke a longstanding political taboo when his proposal to tighten asylum policies narrowly passed in the Bundestag with backing from the AfD. Meanwhile, German media have increasingly treated AfD representatives as legitimate political contenders.
Once marginalised in political debates, they are now regularly invited to talk shows. And they have received international legitimacy from figures such as US vice-president J.D. Vance, and X owner Elon Musk.
This election may give an indication of how far the AfD’s normalisation will go and how it will affect Germany’s political future. Beyond electoral success, the main question will be to what extent mainstream parties will incorporate far-right ideas in their political agenda.
What is already clear, however, is that the political landscape has shifted. The boundaries that once kept the far right at the margins are no longer as firm as they once were
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.
You have probably heard the saying that the eyes are the windows to the soul, but now it turns out that they are also connected to how we breathe. Scientists have long studied the size of our pupils to understand attention, emotion and even medical conditions. But now, new research has surprisingly revealed that they change size in sync with our breathing.
Our pupils are never static; they constantly adjust in response to both external and internal factors. The most well known is that they control how much light enters the eye, just like a camera aperture.
You can easily test this yourself: look into a mirror and shine a light into your eye, and you’ll see your pupils shrink. This process directly affects our visual perception. Larger pupils help us to detect faint objects, particularly in our peripheral vision, while smaller pupils enhance sharpness, improving tasks like reading.
Indeed, this reflex is so reliable that doctors use it to assess brain function. If a pupil fails to react to light, it could signal a medical emergency such as a stroke.
Doctors will check patients’ pupils to see if they’ve had a stroke. Doodeez
However, it is not just light that our pupils respond to. It’s also well established that our pupils constrict when focusing on a nearby object, and dilate in response to cognitive effort or emotional arousal.
As the German pupil-research pioneer Irene Loewenfeld once said: “Man may either blush or turn pale when emotionally agitated, but his pupils always dilate.”
For this reason, pupil size is often used in psychology and neuroscience research as a measure of mental effort and attention.
The fourth response
For many decades, these three kinds of pupil response were the only ones that scientists were sure existed. Now, myself and our team of researchers at the Karolinska Institute in Stockholm and the University of Groningen in the Netherlands have confirmed that breathing is a fourth.
In what will now be known as “pupillary respiratory phase response”, pupils tend to be largest during exhalation and smallest around the start of inhalation. Unlike other pupil responses, this one originates exclusively in the body and of course happens constantly. Equally uniquely, it covers both dilation and constriction.
There had in fact been anecdotal hints of a connection between breathing and our pupils for more than 50 years. But when the team reviewed past studies the evidence was inconclusive at best. Given how widely pupil size is used in both medicine and research, we realised it was crucial to investigate this further.
We confirmed through a series of five experiments with more than 200 participants that pupil size fluctuates in sync with breathing, and also that this effect is remarkably robust. In these studies, we invited the participants to our lab and recorded their pupil size and breathing pattern while they were relaxing or performing tasks on a computer screen.
We systematically varied the other key pupil-response factors throughout the study – lighting, fixation distance and mental effort required for tasks. In all cases, the way that breathing affects the pupils remained constant.
Whichever way you breathe, the effect on pupil size remains the same. LuckyStep
Additionally, we examined how different breathing patterns affected the response.
Participants were instructed to breathe solely through their nose or mouth and to adjust their breathing rate, as well as slowing it down and speeding it up. In all cases, the same pattern emerged: pupil size remained smallest around the onset of inhalation and largest during exhalation.
What now
This discovery changes the way we think about both breathing and vision. It suggests a deeper connection between breathing and the nervous system than we previously realised. The next big question is whether these subtle changes in pupil size affect how we see the world.
The fluctuations are only fractions of a millimetre, which is less than the pupil response to light, but similar to the pupil response to mental effort or arousal. The size of these fluctuations is theoretically large enough to influence our visual perception. It may therefore be that our vision subtly shifts within a single breath between optimising for detecting faint objects (with larger pupils) and distinguishing fine details (with smaller pupils).
In addition, just as the pupillary light response is used as a diagnostic tool, changes in the link between pupil size and breathing could be an early sign of neurological disorders.
This research is part of a broader effort to understand how our internal bodily rhythms influence perception. Scientists are increasingly finding that our brain doesn’t process external information in isolation – it integrates signals from within our bodies, too. For example, information from our heart and gastric rhythms have also been suggested to enhance or hinder the processing of incoming sensory stimuli.
If our breathing affects how our pupils change, could it also shape how we perceive the world around us? This opens the door to new research on how bodily rhythms shape perception – one breath at a time.
Martin Schaefer is affiliated with Karolinska Institutet.
Amid rising tensions around the world, the UK government faces pressure to increase defence spending. External threats and uncertainty over the nature of peace talks with Russia over Ukraine have been in the spotlight. But there are also broader political and economic interests shaping these decisions.
The UK prime minister, Keir Starmer, must navigate commitments to Nato, expectations from allies and the influence of the defence industry. All the while, the squeeze on domestic spending and public scepticism loom large.
The UK’s total military spending for 2024-2025 is expected to be £64.4 billion, with a rise to £67.7 billion in 2025-26. This is equal to 2.3% of the entire UK economy (GDP). It would continue the trend of making the UK one of the highest military spenders in Europe. But it’s still not enough as far as the US president, Donald Trump, is concerned.
In 2023-2024, the UK’s Ministry of Defence spent its budget across several key areas. Around one-third went towards investment in things such as equipment, infrastructure and technology. Another big area of spending was personnel costs, accounting for around one-fifth of the spend.
In recent years, UK military spending has fluctuated, reflecting a balance between modernisation, deterrence and operational readiness. One of the most significant areas of investment has been in the UK’s nuclear deterrent (Trident).
At the same time, cyber defence has become a growing focus, with £1.9 billion allocated to counter threats such as increased cyber attacks and misinformation campaigns from foreign governments and political extremists. The UK has also committed to expanding its next-generation air capabilities.
Britain’s recent escalation in defence investment mirrors a global surge in military spending. In 2024, worldwide defence expenditures reached an unprecedented US$2.46 trillion (£1.95 trillion), marking a 7.4% real-term increase from the previous year.
This trend is particularly pronounced in Europe, where nations are bolstering their military capabilities in response to geopolitical tensions such as the war in Ukraine. Germany’s defence budget experienced a significant 23.2% real-term growth, making the country the world’s fourth-largest defence spender.
Publicly, the party presents this commitment as a necessary investment in the UK’s global standing and ability to deter aggression. However, you can argue that there is more at play.
Political and economic pressures
Starmer’s government inherited a complex set of geopolitical challenges, from European security concerns to the UK’s international relationships post-Brexit. Nato commitments remain a significant driver of defence spending, particularly as European allies anticipate shifts in US foreign policy under the second Trump presidency.
The UK must also respond to regional tensions beyond Europe, due to its military alliances in the Indo-Pacific and its arms trade relationships with Middle Eastern states.
Domestically, Labour’s commitment to raising defence spending is not just about security – it is also a political calculation. Starmer wants to dispel any perceptions that Labour is weak on defence.
However, it comes at a time of fiscal constraint. Any new defence commitments must compete with demands for public investment in healthcare, education and infrastructure. Without additional taxation or significant budget cuts, Labour may struggle to meet its defence spending targets without compromising other commitments.
Beyond geopolitical necessity, increased military spending benefits the UK’s powerful military-industrial complex (the relationship between the country’s military and its defence industry). Major defence contractors such as BAE Systems, Rolls-Royce and Lockheed Martin UK secure billions in government contracts.
The so-called “revolving door” between government and defence firms frequently sees former military officials and politicians taking on lucrative roles in private-sector defence companies.
The cross-party consensus on expanding Britain’s defence industry, now embraced by trade unions and political commentators, reflects a narrow vision of economic security that overlooks more sustainable alternatives.
The sector’s 200,000 jobs are frequently claimed to justify increased military spending. But investment in renewable energy infrastructure and domestic energy production could both boost employment and address fundamental security challenges exposed by the Ukraine crisis.
The reliance on foreign energy sources can be weaponised by adversarial states, as reflected in the continued reliance of EU countries on Russia for their energy needs. By investing in domestic renewable energy infrastructure, the UK can insulate itself from geopolitical energy threats. Stable energy supplies can underpin both economic resilience and military readiness.
But there is a disconnect between strong government protection for arms manufacturers and relatively limited support for green technology development. This, even as climate change poses an escalating threat to national stability.
Labour faces a difficult balancing act. Increasing defence spending helps solidify the party’s credibility on national security. But domestically, it risks alienating voters who favour investment in social welfare over military expansion.
Additionally, higher military expenditure could make tax hikes or borrowing necessary. Both pose political hazards. And there is a real risk that increased spending will disproportionately benefit corporate defence giants rather than the public.
Starmer hopes increased defence spending will show that he is serious about European security. Fred Duval/Shutterstock
Internationally, Starmer aims to signal Britain’s continued reliability as a Nato ally amid uncertainties about the US commitment to European security. This positioning becomes especially significant given the UK’s post-Brexit need to demonstrate its global relevance and military capability.
Labour’s drive to increase defence spending is also shaped by economic imperatives that extend beyond immediate security needs. The party faces pressure to expand a major sector of British manufacturing. At stake are not just defence capabilities but jobs, regional development and industrial strategy.
The government now finds itself caught between competing pressures. The commitment to military expansion reflects not just geopolitical imperatives but also domestic political calculations and economic concerns, which appear to be equally influential. And it raises fundamental questions about how national security priorities are truly determined in an era of multiple challenges.
Peter Bloom does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Anyone familiar with Scotland will know the weather is at best mercurial, and at worst wet, grey and what we call “dreich” – a good Scottish word meaning drab. For an artist in the early 20th century suffering not just miserable weather but a cultural landscape of joyless, soul-sucking Presbyterianism, escaping to the sunlit uplands of the Parisian avant garde, where artists were experimenting wildly with new ideas and techniques, would have been deeply attractive.
Into this vivid world of colour and possibility stepped four Scottish artists who embraced everything this exciting new art scene had to offer, and in doing so, changed Scotland’s art forever. Inspired by the post-impressionist works of Van Gogh, Matisse, Cezanne and Derain, they often painted outdoors, revelling in nature, creating exceptional artworks that explored light, shape and colour.
Samuel John Peploe experimented with Cezanne-like geometric forms, while John Duncan Fergusson took on fauvist influences. George Leslie Hunter focused on blocks of colour, and Francis Campbell Boileau Cadell explored bold shapes and impressionistic compositions.
Together they became known as the “Scottish colourists”, and their work is being celebrated at a new exhibition at the Dovecot in Edinburgh. As our reviewer Blane Savage points out, each brought back to Scotland new approaches to art that were reflected in their subsequent work. Take Peploe’s Green Sea, Iona from 1925, which perfectly captures the mesmerising colours of a Hebridean shoreline. Radiant and vibrant, here was art to lift even the dreichest Presbyterian Scot’s heart.
The Scottish Colourists: Radical Perspectives is on at the Dovecot Studios in Edinburgh until June 28.
Just as the Scottish colourists loved a nice vase of voluptuous blooms, the new Saatchi Gallery exhibition on the subject, named simply Flowers, explores the place of flora in contemporary art, as well as its wider cultural influence.
Reviewer Judith Brocklehurst describes the show as resembling a “supersized florist”, filled with bunches of blooms and hanging arrangements of dried flowers. The exhibition offers a wide perspective: from sculpture finding inspiration in Van Gogh’s Sunflowers, to William Morris’s much-loved floral designs, to the digital recreation of 17th-century Dutch paintings, and contemporary photography and video installations too.
This richly imaginative and engaging exhibition celebrating the importance of flora in our lives is well worth an hour of your time if you’re in London.
Highly recommended cinema this week is the Japanese film Cottontail, a gentle and touching story about a middle-aged man grieving the loss of his wife after a long illness. Honouring her dying wish, he takes her ashes to be scattered in the Lake District in the north of England – a place that had special significance for her.
Woven through the tale is the man’s complicated relationship with his son, whom he has neglected for his career. Struggling to connect, they embark on the journey together, each dealing with their own grief and sense of loss. Chao Fang, an expert in ageing, death and dying, found this delicate film’s portrayal of grief realistic and relatable, and the journey to find peace by reconciling the past and present both absorbing and affecting.
The Oscar-nominated I’m Still Here, released today, sees director Walter Salles adapt Marcelo Rubens Paiva’s autobiographical novel of the same name. The film follows the grief of a family whose husband and father is disappeared by the regime of Brazilian dictator Emílio Garrastazu Médici in the early 1970s. The film is carried by a memorable performance from actress Fernanda Torres who plays Eunice, the wife of missing left-wing politician Rubens.
Relating the story from Eunice’s perspective as she desperately searches for her husband, the film details the breakdown of her relationship with her eldest daughters as they all seek to deal with their devastating loss and uncertain future. Professor of film Belén Vidal describes the film as a “clear-cut tribute to the ‘feminine’ politics of resistance”. Sad, moving and bittersweet in its conclusion, I’m Still Here, appropriately, lingers long after the credits have rolled.
Often real life is stranger than anything created for our screens. Based on the true story of Australian wellness influencer Belle Gibson, Apple Cider Vinegar follows the story of a social media darling documenting her “journey” as she rejects conventional medicine for alternative therapies to treat a rare form of brain cancer. But in 2015, Gibson was exposed as a financial fraud – and worse, was revealed as never having had cancer. The internet, understandably, went wild. But how was she able to perpetrate such an audacious and complex deception?
Apple Cider Vinegar dramatises Gibson’s story, documenting her meteoric rise to fame and her dramatic downfall, detailing some of the psychological issues that influenced her deceit. But, as sociology professor Stephanie Baker indicates, this shocking story also illustrates a wider point about the conditions that enable frauds like Gibson to gain credibility and influence online. Truly fascinating stuff, it once again reveals how the virtual nature of the internet deludes people when it comes to online behaviour, accountability and getting away with it.
Source: The Conversation – UK – By Evelyn Polacek Kery, PhD Researcher in Social Work & Social Care, School of Education & Social Work, University of Sussex
When three former PayPal employees, Steve Chen, Chad Hurley and Jawed Karim, registered the domain www.youtube.com 20 years ago, they wanted to create an online dating site based around videos of users. In 2016, Chen told the SXSW conference: “We thought dating would be the obvious choice.”
But despite offering to pay users to upload videos of themselves, nobody came forward. When their concept failed, they hatched a new idea for the same domain: “OK, forget the dating aspect, let’s just open it up to any video,” said Chen.
What followed was revolutionary. Having started as a small project, YouTube rapidly grew into one of the most influential platforms in media history, reshaping journalism, media, entertainment and social interactions.
Its first-ever video, “Me at the Zoo” – featuring Karim casually describing the elephants at San Diego Zoo – set the tone for democratised content creation, and also the type of content that would become so significant for YouTube: vlogging – where people communicate their own blog-style entries on video, often delivered direct to camera.
The simplicity of uploading and sharing any type of video, combined with the potential of online content going viral, made the platform an instant hit.
In October 2006, just over a year after the video platform’s launch, Google acquired YouTube for US$1.65 billion (£1.3 billion) – a move that proved one of the most significant tech acquisitions in history. The platform embarked on monetising its growing library of content via online advertising, not only generating huge profits for Google but also providing content creators with a share.
The increasing profits prompted content creators to deliver better content.
Whereas traditional media outlets such as television controlled video production and distribution, YouTube suddenly allowed anyone with a camera to share their voice. This shift led to the rise of independent creators, from beauty vloggers and gamers to educators and activists.
And so the platform has given birth to an entirely new profession: the YouTuber. Early pioneers built massive audiences, inspiring a new wave of content creators who could earn a living through ad revenue, sponsorships and crowdfunding.
In the UK in 2010, for example, a group of young content creators nicknamed “Brit Crew” became popular on YouTube. They were relatable, fun to watch, and uploaded videos regularly.
Today, the highest-paid YouTuber worldwide, according to Forbes magazine, is MrBeast, with more than 360 million subscribers and 10 billion views. In reality, MrBeast is Jimmy Donaldson, a content creator and businessman from Greenville, North Carolina. But the views his videos attract are still nowhere near the most-watched YouTube video of all time, “Baby Shark”, with 15 billion views.
Baby Shark: the YouTube video with most views to date.
Donaldson has often talked about understanding YouTube metrics and its algorithm as a key component to his success. He particularly pays attention to a measure known as “retention rate”, noting where viewers stop watching to improve his future videos. He says the algorithm prioritises things that are difficult to accomplish, such as getting high retention rates on a long video, over simply getting a large number of views.
MrBeast is emblematic of the rise of influencers on YouTube: content creators with lots of followers who look to them for inspiration and lifestyle tips. Established companies and brands have sought to develop partnerships with key influencers in order to promote products and services to their often huge global audiences.
Overall, detailed audience numbers for YouTube are difficult to come by. However, Statista reports that the platform now has more than 2.5 billion active monthly users.
Citizen journalism
YouTube also plays a critical role in modern journalism. The platform, along with others such as Facebook and Twitter-X, has allowed citizen journalists to document events in real time, from protests and social movements to natural disasters and political uprisings – especially since YouTube introduced live streaming in 2011.
During major global events such as the Arab Spring and Black Lives Matter protests, influential coverage emerged from people capturing and sharing their footage on YouTube. This shift has challenged traditional news media, which now often relies on user-generated content as a key source of reporting.
Similarly, some major world events are streamed live on YouTube, from election coverage to the Olympics to the Glastonbury music festival. There has also been growth in the popularity of video podcasts on the platform – one of the most popular, the Joe Rogan Experience, attracts millions of views per episode.
Misinformation and conspiracy theories
Despite its success, YouTube has faced significant challenges. The rapid spread of hate speech, misinformation and conspiracy theories has led the platform to implement stricter content moderation policies. In recent years, YouTube says there has been a substantial drop in the number of videos that violate its policies as a result, although some experts say these numbers can be interpreted in different ways.
Regulation has become a pressing concern. Governments worldwide are scrutinising YouTube for its role in spreading harmful content. Many countries are discussing how to better protect children online: in the UK, YouTube is the most popular website or app among younger users, used by nearly nine in ten children aged 3-17. (Officially, YouTube does not allow children below the age of 13 to use the platform without supervision, but there are clearly many ways around this for younger users.)
There is a also drive among regulators to ensure fair competition in the digital marketplace, given YouTube’s dominant position.
As YouTube enters its third decade, AI could become a powerful tool for creators – from speeding up the process of adding effects to videos, to creating video content from scratch. YouTube will also face continued competition from short-form video platforms such as TikTok and Instagram.
In my opinion, the growing demand for high-quality, authentic content will shape YouTube’s future. The platform needs to focus on protecting and empowering its creators and their diversity, while nurturing its existing community.
One thing is clear: YouTube has transformed the way we both consume and create media. From its humble beginnings to becoming a cultural phenomenon, YouTube’s 20-year journey is a testament to the power of digital platforms and social media in shaping modern society. Whether it continues growing or evolves into something entirely new, its impact on global culture is undeniable.
Evelyn Polacek Kery works for the Guardian and is a judge at the Press Awards 2025.
The start of 2025 has been good for China and its reputation as a high-tech innovator. The unveiling of the Chinese-made artificial intelligence (AI) tool, DeepSeek, caused consternation on the US stock exchange and from potential competitors in Silicon Valley.
Chinese firms are increasingly at the forefront of key high-level technologies such as electric vehicles (EVs) and AI, as reflected by the success of China’s electric vehicles, BYD, and now DeepSeek.
These moves have made the Chinese economy more self sufficient than it was during Trump’s first term, and has made Beijing more confident about pushing back politically against Trump.
This is all underlined by a high-level meeting hosted by President Xi Jinping at China’s Great Hall of the People this week. He told the heads of China’s leading tech firms it was time for them “to give full play to their capabilities” and spoke of it as a patriotic duty, according to official accounts.
This comes as China starts being hit by US tariffs of an additional 10% on its goods, as well as a slew of anti-China rhetoric from the Trump government.
But China’s high tech industries are on the up, and this is a significant boost for Xi. For instance, in January this year, sales of the Chinese EVs exceeded those of Tesla in the UK for the first time.
Part of the Chinese EV’s success could be attributed to a backlash against Tesla’s co-founder Elon Musk, after he started backing far-right parties around the world.
Another factor that Chinese high-tech goods have in their favour are lower prices. Prices for Chinese EVs start at £7,697 in the UK, for example – much lower than Tesla’s Model 3 at £25,490.
This price difference will be significant in the latest phase of the Sino-US trade war, particularly in countries struggling with a cost-of-living crisis. China is also hoping its cheap prices and tech innovations will help it find new trading allies to counteract Washington’s proposed tariffs.
What China has to offer
China is a fast-growing economic and political power and is expected to account for nearly a quarter of the global economy by 2030.
The success of BYD and DeepSeek comes at a time where Beijing feels more prepared for Trump’s tough tariffs and tension with Washington, than it did in his previous term. China has responded to Trump’s threats with reciprocal tariffs on US coal and liquefied gas, as well as a ban on the export of critical minerals. These are a key component for many US military technologies varying from communications equipment to missiles.
China accounts for 72% of all rare earth imports for the US. Such measures contrast with the cautious approach taken by Beijing in 2017, when US tariffs during Trump’s first term met little retaliation from Beijing.
The changes in China’s tactics can partly be attributed to what Beijing learned from the previous trade war. In 2017 there were weaknesses in the supply chains of many Chinese firms, most notably ZTE and Huawei.
They struggled when Washington pressurised its own chipmakers and those of allied states, such as Britain’s Arm, to stop sales of semiconductor technology to China. As a result, finding long-term alternatives to US technology in the supply chain has become a key priority for Beijing.
What is Deep Seek?
Xi has recognised the value of firms such as Huawei and BYD in aiding China’s wider technological (and geopolitical) ambitions, most notably as part of the Made in China 2025 strategy, a national strategy to make China a leader in high-tech technology.
Traditionally, China was seen as the home of cheap, low-quality goods, which had been central to its development in the 1980s and 1990s. But many of companies producing these products are increasingly moving to south-east Asia to take advantage of lower labour costs.
However, Chinese industries are now gaining ground in fields that have traditionally been the preserve of developed nations. For instance, Huawei has developed a spin off, Honor, which has gone from producing cheap, simple smartphones and into AI technology.
Meanwhile, the success of BYD and DeepSeek have demonstrated that China is, in some ways at least, far better placed for a prolonged trade war. Beijing is feeling more confident, which explains its willingness to push back against Washington this time.
So the White House will have to deal with higher prices for US goods going into China, as well as additional trade spats with the EU, Canada and the UK. It might be a bumpy ride for US consumers.
How Beijing responds and its new-found clout may determine the course of this new trade war, and potentially add to its long-term standing in the world.
Tom Harper 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.
Directors Basel Adra, left, and Yuval Abraham on stage at the 62nd New York Film Festival on Sept. 29, 2024.Jamie McCarthy/Getty Images
For many low-budget, independent films, an Oscar nomination is a golden ticket.
The publicity can translate into theatrical releases or rereleases, along with more on-demand rentals and sales.
However, for “No Other Land,” a Palestinian film nominated for best documentary at the 2025 Academy Awards, this exposure is unlikely to translate into commercial success in the U.S. That’s because the film has been unable to find a company to distribute it in America.
“No Other Land” chronicles the efforts of Palestinian townspeople to combat an Israeli plan to demolish their villages in the West Bank and use the area as a military training ground. It was directed by four Palestinian and Israeli activists and journalists: Basel Adra, who is a resident of the area facing demolition, Yuval Abraham, Hamdan Ballal and Rachel Szor. While the filmmakers have organized screenings in a number of U.S. cities, the lack of a national distributor makes a broader release unlikely.
Film distributors are a crucial but often unseen link in the chain that allows a film to reach cinemas and people’s living rooms. In recent years it has become more common for controversial award-winning films to run into issues finding a distributor. Palestinian films have encountered additional barriers.
As a scholar of Arabic who has written about Palestinian cinema, I’m disheartened by the difficulties “No Other Land” has faced. But I’m not surprised.
The role of film distributors
Distributors are often invisible to moviegoers. But without one, it can be difficult for a film to find an audience.
Distributors typically acquire rights to a film for a specific country or set of countries. They then market films to movie theaters, cinema chains and streaming platforms. As compensation, distributors receive a percentage of the revenue generated by theatrical and home releases.
The film “Soundtrack to a Coup D’Etat,” another finalist for best documentary, shows how this process typically works. It premiered at the Sundance Film Festival in January 2024 and was acquired for distribution just a few months later by Kino Lorber, a major U.S.-based distributor of independent films.
The inability to find a distributor is not itself noteworthy. No film is entitled to distribution, and most films by newer or unknown directors face long odds.
So why can’t “No Other Land” find a distributor in the U.S.?
There are a couple of factors at play.
Shying away from controversy
In recent years, film critics have noticed a trend: Documentaries on controversial topics have faced distribution difficulties. These include a film about a campaign by Amazon workers to unionize and a documentary about Adam Kinzinger, one of the few Republican congresspeople to vote to impeach Donald Trump in 2021.
The Israeli-Palestinian conflict, of course, has long stirred controversy. But the release of “No Other Land” comes at a time when the issue is particularly salient. The Hamas attacks of Oct. 7, 2023, and the ensuing Israeli bombardment and invasion of the Gaza Strip have become a polarizing issue in U.S. domestic politics, reflected in the campus protests and crackdowns in 2024. The filmmakers’ critical comments about the Israeli occupation of Palestine have also garnered backlash in Germany.
Yet the fact that this conflict has been in the news since October 2023 should also heighten audience interest in a film such as “No Other Land” – and, therefore, lead to increased sales, the metric that distributors care about the most.
Indeed, an earlier film that also documents Palestinian protests against Israeli land expropriation, “5 Broken Cameras,” was a finalist for best documentary at the 2013 Academy Awards. It was able to find a U.S. distributor. However, it had the support of a major European Union documentary development program called Greenhouse. The support of an organization like Greenhouse, which had ties to numerous production and distribution companies in Europe and the U.S., can facilitate the process of finding a distributor.
By contrast, “No Other Land,” although it has a Norwegian co-producer and received some funding from organizations in Europe and the U.S., was made primarily by a grassroots filmmaking collective.
Stages for protest
While distribution challenges may be recent, controversies surrounding Palestinian films are nothing new.
Many of them stem from the fact that the system of film festivals, awards and distribution is primarily based on a movie’s nation of origin. Since there is no sovereign Palestinian state – and many countries and organizations have not recognized the state of Palestine – the question of how to categorize Palestinian films has been hard to resolve.
In 2002, The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences rejected the first ever Palestinian film submitted to the best foreign language film category – Elia Suleiman’s “Divine Intervention” – because Palestine was not recognized as a country by the United Nations. The rules were changed for the following year’s awards ceremony.
In 2021, the cast of the film “Let It Be Morning,” which had an Israeli director but primarily Palestinian actors, boycotted the Cannes Film Festival in protest of the film’s categorization as an Israeli film rather than a Palestinian one.
Film festivals and other cultural venues have also become places to make statements about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and engage in protest. For example, at the Cannes Film Festival in 2017, the right-wing Israeli culture minister wore a controversial – and meme-worthy – dress that featured the Jerusalem skyline in support of Israeli claims of sovereignty over the holy city, despite the unresolved status of Jerusalem under international law.
Israeli Culture Minister Miri Regev wears a dress featuring the old city of Jerusalem during the Cannes Film Festival in 2017. Antonin Thuillier/AFP via Getty Images
At the 2024 Academy Awards, a number of attendees, including Billie Eilish, Mark Ruffalo and Mahershala Ali, wore red pins in support of a ceasefire in Gaza, and pro-Palestine protesters delayed the start of the ceremonies.
So even though a film like “No Other Land” addresses a topic of clear interest to many people in the U.S., it faces an uphill battle to finding a distributor.
I wonder whether a win at the Oscars would even be enough.
Drew Paul 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 Library of Celsus was a famous landmark in its time – and today.Myrsini Mamoli
Here in Atlanta, the Jimmy Carter Presidential Library and Museum has been part of my daily life for years. Parks and trails surrounding the center connect my neighborhood to the Martin Luther King Jr. National Historical Park downtown and everything in between.
At the end of December 2024, thousands of people walked to the library to pay their respects to the former president as he lay in repose. The cold, snow and darkness of the evening were a stark contrast to the warmth of the volunteers who welcomed us in. Our visit spiraled through galleries exhibiting records of Carter’s life, achievements and lifelong work promoting democracy around the world.
U.S. presidents have been building libraries for more than 100 years, starting with Rutherford B. Hayes. But the urge to shape one’s legacy by building a library runs much deeper. As a scholar of libraries in the Greek and Roman world, I was struck by the similarities between presidential and ancient libraries – some of which were explicitly designed to honor deceased sponsors and played a significant role in their cities.
Trajan’s library
The Ulpian Library, a great library in the center of Rome, was founded by Emperor Trajan, who ruled around the turn of the second century C.E. Referenced often by ancient authors, it could have been the first such memorial library.
Today, someone visiting Rome can visit Trajan’s Column, a roughly 100-foot monument to his military and engineering achievements after conquering Dacia, part of present-day Romania. A frieze spirals from bottom to top of the column, depicting his exploits. The monument now stands on its own. Originally, however, it was nestled in a courtyard between two halls of the Ulpian Library complex.
Most of what scholars know about the library’s architecture comes from remains of the west hall, an elongated room almost 80 feet long, whose walls were lined with rectangular niches and framed by a colonnade. The niches were lined with marble and appear to have had doors; this is where the books would have been placed. Writers from the first few centuries C.E. describe the library having archival documents about the emperor and the empire, including books made of linen and books bound with ivory.
Trajan dedicated the column in 113 C.E. but died four years later, before the library was complete. Hadrian, his adoptive son and successor, oversaw the shipment of Trajan’s cremated remains back to Rome, where they were placed in Trajan’s Column. Hadrian completed the surrounding library complex in 128 C.E. and dedicated it with two identical funerary inscriptions to his adopted parents, Trajan and Plotina. Scholars Roberto Egidi and Silvia Orlandi have argued that Trajan’s remains could later have been transferred from the column into the library hall.
Memorial model
Either way, I would argue that Trajan’s decision to have his remains included in the library complex, instead of in an imperial mausoleum, established a model adopted by other officials at a smaller scale. In the eastern side of the Roman empire – what is now Turkey – at least two other library-mausoleum buildings have been identified.
One is the library at Nysa on the Maeander, a Hellenistic city named for the nearby river. Under the floor of its entry porch is a sarcophagus with the remains of a man and a woman, possibly the dedicators, that dates to the second century C.E., the time of Hadrian’s reign.
The ruins of the library at Nysa on the Maeander. Myrsini Mamoli
Another is the Library of Celsus, the most recognizable ancient library today, found in the ancient city of Ephesus. Named after a regional Roman consul and proconsul during the reign of Trajan, the building was founded by Celsus’ son, designed as both a place of learning and a mausoleum.
The library’s ornate, sculpted facade contained life-size female statues, making it an immediately recognizable landmark. Inscriptions identify the statues as the personifications of Celsus’ character, elevating him into a role model: virtue, intelligence, knowledge and wisdom.
Upon entering the room, the funerary character of the library became quite literal. The hall was designed like the Ulpian Library, but a door gave access to a crypt underneath. This held the marble sarcophagus with the remains of Celsus, the patron of the library. The sarcophagus itself was visible from the hall, if one stood in front of the central apse and looked down through two slits in the podium.
An endowment covered the library’s operational expenses in ancient times, as well as annual commemorations on Celsus’ birthday, including the wreathing of the busts and statues and the purchasing of additional books.
The life-size statues on the facade of the Library of Celsus. Myrsini Mamoli
Power and knowledge
These two provincial libraries highlight how sponsors hoped to be associated with the virtues a library fosters. Books represent knowledge, and by dedicating a library, one asserted his possession of it. Providing access to learning was an instrument of power on its own.
Beyond the handful of memorial libraries, many other ancient Roman public libraries were great cultural centers, including the Forum of Peace in Rome, dedicated by Emperor Vespasian; the Library of Hadrian in Athens; and the Gymnasium in Side, a city in present-day Turkey.
The most magnificent libraries combined access to manuscripts and artworks with spaces for meetings and lectures. Several had great leisure areas, including landscaped sculptural gardens with elaborate water features and colonnaded walkways. Literary sources and material evidence testify to the treasures that were held there: busts of philosophers, poets and other accomplished literary figures; statues of gods, heroes and emperors; treasures confiscated as spoils of war and exhibited in Rome.
Like the Ulpian Library itself, they continued the long tradition of Hellenistic public libraries, established by the most famous library of antiquity: the Library of Alexandria. Founded and lavishly endowed by the Hellenistic kings of Egypt, the Ptolemies, the building was meant to portray the king as a patron of intellectual activities and a powerful ruler, collecting knowledge from conquered civilizations.
In ancient Greece and Rome, anybody who could read had access to public libraries. Rules of use varied: For example, literary sources imply that the Ulpian Library in Rome was a borrowing library, whereas an inscription from the Library of Pantainos in Athens explicitly forbid any book to be taken out.
But these buildings were also meant to shape their sponsors’ legacies, portraying them as benevolent and learned. Presidential libraries in the United States today follow the same principle: They become monuments to the former presidents, while giving back to their local communities.
Myrsini Mamoli does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Source: The Conversation – USA – By Brittany Friedman, Assistant Professor of Sociology at the USC Dornsife College of Letters, Arts and Sciences, University of Southern California
Black and Latino communities are disproportionately affected by mass surveillance, studies show.Vicente Méndez/Getty Images
Mass surveillance is the widespread monitoring of civilians. Governments typically target specific groups – such as religious minorities, certain races or ethnicities, or migrants – for surveillance and use the information gathered to “contain” these populations, for example by arresting and imprisoning people.
We are experts in social control, or how governments coerce compliance, and we specialize in surveillance. Based on our expertise and years of research, we expect Trump’s second White House term may usher in a wave of spying against people of color and immigrants.
Trump is already actively deploying a key tactic in expanding mass surveillance: causing moral panics. Moral panics are created when politicians exaggerate a public concern to manipulate real fears people may have.
Building on his rhetoric about crime and immigration, Trump frequently connects the two issues. He has said that migrants murder because they have “bad genes,” echoing beliefs expressed by white supremacists. During the 2016 campaign, Trump’s coinage “bad hombre” invoked stereotypes of dangerous migrants crossing the U.S.-Mexico border to steal jobs and sell drugs.
The president has similarly connected Black communities with crime. At an August 2024 rally in Atlanta, Georgia, Trump called the majority-Black city “a killing field.” The month prior, he said the same thing about Washington, D.C.
Another early form of moral panics escalating to spying and mass surveillance were southern slave patrols, which emerged in the early 1700s after pro-slavery politicians proclaimed that Black escapees would terrorize white communities. Slave patrols tracked down and captured not only Black escapees but also free Black people, whom they sold into bondage. They also imprisoned any person, enslaved or not, suspected of sheltering escapees.
Once a group of people becomes the subject of moral panics and targeted for government surveillance, our research shows, the effects are felt for generations.
These 21st-century numbers reflect decades of targeted surveillance.
In the 1950s, the FBI under Director J. Edgar Hoover created the counter-intelligence programs COINTELPRO, allegedly for investigating communists and radical political groups, and the Ghetto Informant Program. In practice, both programs broadly targeted people of color. From Martin Luther King Jr. to U.S. Rep. John Lewis, Black activists were identified as a threat, spied on, investigated and sometimes jailed.
President Lyndon Johnson’s “war on crime,” a sweeping set of federal changes that militarized local police in urban communities, continued this mass surveillance in the 1960s. Later came the “war on drugs,” which an aide to President Richard Nixon later said was designed explicitly to target Black people.
These early examples of mass surveillance lacked the technology that enables spying today, such as CCTV and hacked laptop cameras. Nonetheless, past U.S. administrations have been remarkably effective at achieving social control by creating moral panics then deploying mass surveillance to contain the “threat.” They enlisted droves of police officers, recruited informants to infiltrate groups and locked people away.
These textbook surveillance methods are still routinely used now.
Police fusion centers
For many Americans, the term “mass surveillance” evokes the Department of Homeland Security, which was founded after the 9/11 terrorist attacks. This national agency, which forms part of a federal intelligence apparatus of more than 20 agencies focused on surveillance, has played a key role in mass surveillance since 2001, especially of Muslim Americans.
But it has local help in the form of police units known as fusion centers. These units feed identification information and physical evidence such as video footage to federal agencies such as the FBI and CIA, according to a 2023 whistleblower report from Rutgers Law School.
The New Jersey Regional Operations Intelligence Center, for example, is a police fusion center overseeing New York, New Jersey and Connecticut. It employs advanced military technology to gather massive amounts of personal data on people perceived as potential security threats. According to the Rutgers report, these “threats” are highly concentrated in Black, Latino and Arab communities, as well as areas with a high concentration of political organizing, such as Black Lives Matter groups and immigrant aid organizations.
The New Jersey police fusion approach leads to increased arrest rates, according to the report, but there’s no real evidence that it prevents crime or terrorism.
Guantanamo and black sites
Given Trump’s pledges to further militarize border enforcement and expand U.S. jails and prisons, we anticipate a rise in spending on fusion centers and other tools of mass surveillance under Trump. The moral panics he’s been stirring up since 2015 suggest that the targets of government surveillance will include immigrants and Black people.
Donald Trump speaks at a campaign event on April 2, 2024, in Grand Rapids, Mich. Spencer Platt/Getty Images
The Guardian reported in 2015 that Chicago police had been temporarily “disappearing” people at local and federal police “black sites” since at least 2009. At these clandestine jails, under the guise of national security, officers questioned detainees without attorneys and held them for up to 24 hours without any outside contact. Many of the victims were Black.
The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
For decades, many U.S. immigrants have received subpar health care, and asking about immigration status can make those disparities worse.Maskot via Getty Images
Since arriving in the United States four years ago, Alex has worked at a primary care office. He has witnessed firsthand how difficult it was for immigrants to access preventive care.
When he heard of the implementation of Florida’s Senate Bill 1718, Alex feared it would have dire consequences for the patients he served.
Alex is a pseudonym for one of our research subjects.
SB 1718, signed into law by Gov. Ron DeSantis in May 2023, imposed sweeping restrictions aimed at discouraging unauthorized immigration. Among its provisions, it requires hospitals that accept Medicaid funds to question patients about their immigration status and share data about how many immigrants they are serving within the state.
After the law passed, Alex told his patients that they could refuse to divulge their legal status when asked on hospital forms. But he says his reassurances didn’t work. He watched as many immigrant patients hesitated to access necessary medical care for themselves and their children – or even left the state.
Alex had legal documentation to be in the country, but as his immigrant community shrank, he wondered if he, too, should leave Florida.
“I was very sick recently and needed medical care, but I was scared,” one survey participant told us.
While hospitals cannot deny care based on a patient’s immigration status, our data shows that anticipating they would be asked deterred not only immigrants lacking permanent legal status but also those with legal status, including U.S. citizens, from seeking care.
We believe U.S. citizens are affected by spillover effects because they are members of mixed-status families.
Our survey took place during the intense 2024 presidential election season when anti-immigrant rhetoric was prevalent. The immigrants we surveyed also reported experiencing discrimination in their everyday lives, and these experiences were also associated with a reluctance to access health care.
Laws like SB 1718 amplify preexisting racial and structural inequities. Structural inequities are systemic barriers within institutions — such as health care and employment — that restrict access to essential resources based on one’s race, legal or economic status.
Supporters of immigrants’ rights protest against U.S. President Donald Trump’s immigration policies on Feb. 7, 2025 in Homestead, Florida. Joe Raedle via Getty Images
Elizabeth Aranda is affiliated with American Sociological Association.
Deborah Omontese is affiliated with American Sociological Association
Elizabeth Vaquera is a member of the American Sociological Association and has previously received funding from the National Science Foundation and the National Institutes of Health,
Emely Matos Pichardo is affiliated with the Southern Sociological Society.
Liz Ventura 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 Conversation U.S. politics editor Jeff Inglis spoke to James Perry, a scholar of public affairs at Indiana University, Bloomington, to understand what the order is trying to achieve and how it would affect federal workers, the government and the American public. What follows is an edited transcript of the discussion.
Andrew Jackson, depicted here giving a speech, believed the president should be in control of most federal workers. PHOTOS.com / Getty Images Plus
What is the standard situation for government employees?
In the 1820s and 1830s, President Andrew Jackson popularized the idea that the president could, and should, hire supporters into government jobs. But by the early 1880s, there was concern on the parts of both Democrats and Republicans that the victor would control a lot of workers who would serve the president, not the American people whose tax dollars paid their salaries.
So the parties came together in 1883 to pass the Pendleton Act stipulating that government workers are hired based on their skills and abilities, not their political views. That law was updated in 1978 with the Civil Service Reform Act, which added more protections for workers against being fired for political reasons.
Those rules cover about 99% of staff in the federal civil service. Currently, there are just about 4,000 political appointees. I’ve seen various estimates that this new executive order would shift at least 50,000 positions from career positions to the political-appointments list.
This argument is not backed by strong evidence. The evidence supporters offer is that human resources directors, who are often appointees of the governor who changed the statute, claim no one has complained about the change in policy. But that doesn’t include people who are likely to have a different perspective.
It could be that nobody is talking about people being fired for political reasons in these states because they are afraid of getting fired themselves.
What does this executive order change, and why?
The rationale for the new policy is that the administration wants to get rid of federal workers whom leaders perceive as either intransigent or insubordinate – or who they fear might oppose Trump’s policy initiatives. This sets up a conflict between how government workers see their duties and how Trump appears to view them.
But taking action against only 50,000 of the 2 million-plus federal employees isn’t going to address such a wide problem.
There’s a stereotype that in government it can be hard to discipline or fire workers who are not competent at their jobs. The flip side of that stereotype is, however, false: Private businesses are not better at holding poor performers accountable. Survey evidence shows the private sector has just as much difficulty as the government with getting workers to perform effectively.
There’s room for legitimate disagreement about how far federal employees have to go to comply with presidential directives. The people who think loyalty is the key to merit still might not agree on whether that loyalty is owed to the person sitting in the Oval Office or to the Constitution.
Protests against the Trump administration have been widespread, including against its policies aimed at federal workers. AP Photo/Sejal Govindarao
In the first round of this effort under the first Trump administration, it seemed that most of the people affected would be at the top of the federal hierarchy, probably mostly based in Washington, D.C.
Most of the workers in the federal civil service, though, are not there. They work for the Social Security Administration, giving out checks in Bloomington, Indiana, or other departments and offices around the country. It would be very difficult to classify them as influencing political policy or advocating for policies.
But there are people who are not Senate-confirmed who do have an influence on policy. For instance, at the Department of Justice, assistant and deputy assistant secretaries have influence on civil rights policy or other policies that affect the president’s ability to pursue his agenda. The February 2025 resignation of Danielle Sassoon from her role as U.S. attorney in New York is an example of legitimate divergence between an appointee and the president’s policy direction.
Any workers who lost their protections would likely feel threatened with losing their job and their livelihood. They might, out of fear, be more responsive to the dictates of their superiors.
That might sound good – that if you do what your boss says, you’re doing a good job. But it’s different if your obligations are to the public interest and the Constitution.
The U.S. has attracted to government service workers who are good at their jobs and able to remain politically neutral at work. Saying that’s no longer important would change the relationship between government workers and their jobs. And it would hurt the nation as a whole if government cannot attract the best and the brightest, or if it sends the best and the brightest packing because they are not comfortable with their work situation, or if they stay but their performance declines.
James L. Perry does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Source: The Conversation – USA – By Anthony Pereira, Director of the Kimberly Green Latin American and Caribbean Center, Florida International University
The former president looked disappointed on Jan. 18, 2025, after a judge denied his request to travel to the U.S. for Donald Trump’s inauguration.Evaristo Sa/AFP via Getty Images
Brazilian politics are getting more dramatic again.
The South American country’s attorney general filed five criminal charges against former President Jair Bolsonaro and 33 others in its Supreme Court on Feb. 18, 2025, detonating political shock waves. The charges include plotting a coup d’état to prevent Luíz Inácio Lula da Silva’s presidency. The other defendants include several former prominent officials, including a former spy chief, defense minister, national security adviser and Bolsonaro’s running mate.
Lula took office in Brazil for a third time in January 2023, after he defeated Bolsonaro in the 2022 presidential election. Bolsonaro, a right-wing politician allied with U.S. President Donald Trump, had served the previous four-year term. Bolsonaro and his codefendants are also charged with trying to poison Lula and assassinate his vice presidential running mate, Geraldo Alckmin, and Brazilian Supreme Court Justice Alexandre de Moraes; participating in an armed criminal organization; and seeking to violently overthrow the democratic rule of law. He denies doing anything wrong.
As a professor of Brazilian politics, I believe that Bolsonaro’s legal troubles threaten to definitively end his political career. There’s also a possibility that the 69-year-old former president will be sentenced to prison. But, at the same time, the charges could also galvanize Bolsonaro’s base – playing into a narrative that sees the right-wing leader as stymied, unfairly, by the government he used to run.
No sash passed
Bolsonaro’s behavior before, during and after his second presidential campaign was unusual for any president seeking another term. He claimed, when he was still in office, that Brazil’s electronic voting system was not secure and predicted that fraud might crop up in the 2022 elections.
Although he never produced any evidence to support this claim, he promoted it on social media, fostering skepticism about the election among some voters.
That meant Bolsonaro was not in Brazil when thousands of his supporters rampaged through and vandalized three government buildings in Brasília on Jan. 8, 2023. The incident was strikingly similar to Trump supporters’ assault on the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021.
The new charges accuse Bolsonaro of taking part in a conspiracy to delegitimize the elections. The indictment also alleges that after the results were announced, Bolsonaro and the other defendants encouraged protests and urged the armed forces to intervene, declare a state of siege and prevent the peaceful transition of power from Bolsonaro to Lula.
Former Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro can still draw crowds of supporters, as happened on Copacabana Beach in Rio de Janeiro on April 21, 2024. Buda Mendes/Getty Images
Possibility of prison
The evidence in this indictment is based, in part, on plea-bargained testimony by one of the alleged conspirators, the former presidential adviser and army Lt. Col. Mauro Cid.
President Lula, wearing a hat, walks alongside Brazil’s first lady, Rosangela Janja da Silva, in a pink suit, during a rally in Brasilia on Jan. 8, 2025 – two years after supporters of his predecessor staged a failed coup attempt. Claudio Reis/Getty Images
Narrow path
Bolsonaro and his supporters have long criticized Brazil’s Supreme Court, arguing that it has exceeded its constitutional powers and become a judicial “dictatorship.” They have also pushed for Congress to grant amnesty to everyone who took part in or helped carry out the Jan. 8 attacks, including Bolsonaro.
So, although the example of Donald Trump returning to the presidency and pardoning the participants in the Jan. 6 attack on the U.S. Capitol inspires Bolsonaro’s supporters, his path to achieving a similar result is narrower than was Trump’s.
Meanwhile, Trump’s media company, which owns Truth Social and Rumble, sued Moraes, the judge Bolsonaro is accused of plotting to kill, for ordering the suspension of social media accounts and thereby undermining the First Amendment rights of U.S. citizens. The case was filed in federal court in Tampa, Florida, on Feb. 19.
Any trial of Bolsonaro and the other alleged coup plotters could spark a political struggle.
Brazil’s right wing is currently divided between advocates of hard-line Bolsonarismo – a disruptive ideology that advocates social conservatism, a lightly regulated economy, militarism and a strong executive branch – and a more pragmatic conservatism that works within the conventional rules of politics and is mainly focused on patronage and the management of the spoils of office.
Should Bolsonaro and his fellow defendants be tried in the Supreme Court, those hard-liners could be mobilized and energized.
They would see the trial as the political establishment’s persecution of their political hero. And a struggle to find Bolsanaro’s successor, most likely between his son Eduardo and the former president’s wife, Michelle, would ensue.
The successor would claim the mantle of opposition to Lula, who is eligible to seek a fourth presidential term and claims to want to run for reelection in 2026 – when he would be about to celebrate his 81st birthday.
High stakes
There are, to be sure, some Brazilian politicians who are more moderate than Bolsonaro and would also like to run against Lula next time. They would bring much less baggage to that presidential race.
Their candidacies might offer a possible return to the relative political stability Brazil had experienced for almost two decades before 2013, when the main dividing line in Brazilian politics was between coalitions led by the center-right Social Democratic Party and the center-left Workers’ Party.
To be clear, it’s hard to overstate the potential consequences of the Supreme Court’s deliberation and judgment in this case.
The trial, should it occur, would be televised and also have a geopolitical dimension, because it would be closely watched by advocates of hard-right populism in other countries across the Americas and beyond. The stakes are high.
In the meantime, I have no doubt that Bolsonaro’s supporters will try to use his legal woes to rally his political movement. The judgment of Brazil’s Supreme Court, should it decide to hear this case, could therefore end Bolsonaro’s political career. However, no matter what happens, I believe that Bolsonarismo would still be alive and well as a political force in Brazil and a factor in the 2026 elections.
Anthony Pereira has received funding in the past from the British Academy and the Economic and Social Research Council (ESRC) of the UK.
I am a senior fellow at Canning House, a think tank based in London. This is an unpaid position.
The Sun periodically ejects huge bubbles of plasma from its surface that contain an intense magnetic field. These events are called coronal mass ejections, or CMEs. When two of these ejections collide, they can generate powerful geomagnetic storms that can lead to beautiful auroras but may disrupt satellites and GPS back on Earth.
The northern lights, as seen here from Michigan in May 2024, are caused by geomagnetic storms in the atmosphere. Shirsh Lata Soni
Two merging CMEs triggered the largest geomagnetic storm in two decades, which manifested in brightly colored auroras visible across the sky.
I’m a solar physicist. My colleagues and I aim to track and better understand colliding CMEs with the goal of improving space weather forecasts. In the modern era, where technological systems are increasingly vulnerable to space weather disruptions, understanding how CMEs interact with each other has never been more crucial.
Coronal mass ejections
CMEs are long and twisted – kind of like ropes – and how often they happen varies with an 11-year cycle. At the solar minimum, researchers observe about one a week, but near the solar maximum, they can observe, on average, two or three per day.
During the solar maximum, solar flares and coronal mass ejections are more common.
When two or more CMEs interact, they generate massive clouds of charged particles and magnetic fields that may compress, merge or reconnect with each other during the collision. These interactions can amplify the impact of the CMEs on Earth’s magnetic field, sometimes creating geomagnetic storms.
In my research team’s study, published in May 2024, we found that CMEs that do interact or collide with each other are much more likely to cause a geomagnetic storm – two times more likely than an individual CME. The mix of strong magnetic fields and high pressure in these CME collisions is likely what causes them to generate storms.
During solar maxima, when there can be more than 10 CMEs per day, the likelihood of CMEs interacting with each other increases. But researchers aren’t sure whether they become more likely to generate a geomagnetic storm during these periods.
Scientists can study interacting CMEs as they move through space and watch them contribute to geomagnetic storms using observations from space- and ground-based observatories.
In this study, we looked at three CMEs that interacted with each other as they traveled through space using the space-based observatory STEREO. We validated these observations with three-dimensional simulations.
The CME interactions we studied generated a complex magnetic field and a compressed plasma sheath, which is a layer of charged particles in the upper atmosphere that interacts with Earth’s magnetic field.
When this complex structure encountered Earth’s magnetosphere, it compressed the magnetosphere and triggered an intense geomagnetic storm.
Four images show three interacting CMEs, based on observations from the STEREO telescope. In images C and D, you can see the northeast flank of CME-1 and CME-2 that interact with the southwest part of CME-3. Shirsh Lata Soni
This same process generated the geomagnetic storm from May 2024.
Between May 8-9, multiple Earth-directed CMEs erupted from the Sun. When these CMEs merged, they formed a massive, combined structure that arrived at Earth late on May 10, 2024. This structure triggered the extraordinary geomagnetic storm many people observed. People even in parts of the southern U.S. were able to see the northern lights in the sky that night.
These resources, coupled with advanced modeling capabilities, provide timely and effective ways to investigate how CMEs cause geomagnetic storms. The Sun will reach its solar maximum in the years 2024 and 2025. So, with more complex CMEs coming from the Sun in the next few years and an increasing reliance on space-based infrastructure for communication, navigation and scientific exploration, monitoring these events is more important than ever.
Integrating the observational data from space-based missions such as Wind and ACE and data from ground-based facilities such as the e-Callisto network and radio observatories with state-of-the-art simulation tools allows researchers to analyze the data in real time. That way, they can quickly make predictions about what the CMEs are doing.
These advancements are important for keeping infrastructure safe and preparing for the next solar maximum. Addressing these challenges today ensures resilience against future space weather.
Shirsh Lata Soni 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.
In the toxic male technique, genetically engineered male insects would implant semen containing toxic venom into the female insects during mating.Madugrero/Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA
The stakes are high. Mosquitoes carry viruses such as dengue, West Nile and Zika, as well as parasites that cause malaria. Researchers estimate that mosquitoes have caused the deaths of 52 billion people overall – nearly half of all the humans that have ever lived.
Other insects cause major crop damage, jeopardizing the food supply and driving up prices. According to the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, 20% to 40% of global crop production is lost to pests annually at a cost of US$70 billion.
Pesticides have been the front-line defense against insects, but many bugs have evolved resistance to these chemicals. Some pesticides can indiscriminately kill beneficial insects, harm the environment and endanger human and animal health. Some researchers worry that certain pesticides can cause cancer or have damaging effects on human nervous and endocrine systems.
I’m a microbiology researcher studying infectious disease. New solutions that do not harm humans and the environment to control disease-carrying insects and agricultural pests could lead to fewer people contracting dangerous diseases. In the past few years, a variety of genetic engineering approaches have emerged as promising tactics to combat problematic insects.
Genetic biocontrol entails genetically modifying insects to curb their populations.
The idea to suppress an insect population by flooding it with sterile males has been around for decades. Since the 1950s, scientists have been using radiation to create infertile male mosquitoes. These sterile males mate with females but produce no offspring. Since females are engaged in a lot of unproductive mating, the overall population tends to decline.
In the past two decades, genetic engineering has been used to introduce dominant lethal genes into insect populations. In this approach, the offspring of genetically modified males inherit a gene that kills them before they reach reproductive age. A field trial in Brazil found that this strategy reduced the target mosquito population up to 95%. Another approach on the horizon involves releasing insects genetically modified to be poor carriers of pathogens that cause disease.
Despite these advances, a key shortcoming to current genetic biocontrol methods is that they take time. At least one generation needs to be born before the population suppression begins. This means the female insects continue to be a disease vector or agricultural pest until they die a natural death. An ideal technique would neutralize the females immediately, especially during outbreaks.
A faster approach
Biologists Samuel Beach and Maciej Maselko at Macquarie University in Australia sought to solve this dilemma by genetically engineering male insects to make poisonous semen. The poisonous semen would kill the female quickly, reducing the population faster than previous biocontrol methods.
To test this idea, the team used fruit flies called Drosophila melanogaster, which are easy to genetically modify and study in the lab.
The genetically modified fly produces and stores venom proteins in its male accessory gland – a fly’s prostate – along with other seminal fluid proteins. Upon mating, the fly deposits the venomous semen into the female’s reproductive tract. The researchers named this approach the toxic male technique.
The Mediterranean snakelocks anenome, Anemonia viridis. Diego Delso
After mating, the seminal toxins seep into the female’s body and attack her central nervous system. The toxins bind to proteins called ion channels on cellular membranes, which nerve cells use to communicate with one another. This quickly leads to paralysis and respiratory arrest. You could say these genetically engineered Romeos literally take her breath away.
The lifespan of female flies that mated with toxic males decreased – up to 64%. A computer simulation of the toxic male technique for Aedes aegypti, a mosquito that transmits several viruses, predicted that this approach could work better than current methods.
Safety and effectiveness
While promising and innovative, there are some important challenges that researchers developing the toxic male technique will need to overcome. For example, the technique has been shown to work only in fruit flies. Whether it will work in mosquitoes or other insect pests remains an open question.
In addition, the technique reduced the female lifespan by only 37% to 64%. To improve the rate of killing, the researchers suggested that other venom formulations might work better. Researchers could try thousands of venom genes from spiders, snakes, scorpions and centipedes. Each new venom they try will require tests to ensure the modified males tolerate them – if they become weak, unmodified males may outcompete them for mating opportunities.
As with all genetic biocontrol methods, this technique may be too expensive to implement for low-income countries. Nations would need to finance the costs of breeding and deploying the mosquitoes safely.
Insects also pollinate plants and serve as food sources for other animals, such as bats. If these insects vanish, the ecosystem could face unforeseen adverse effects. Monitoring these potential effects on the environment will also be expensive.
Other researchers are experimenting with using venom toxins to control parasites that female insects spread through biting. Called paratransgenesis, this technique alters an insect’s gut bacteria to produce a toxin that kills the parasite, leaving the insect unharmed. Since the insect population remains unaltered, paratransgenesis may pose less risk to ecosystems.
Insects tend to adapt quickly to the methods humans use to control them, so it is advantageous to have multiple strategies at our disposal. The toxic male technique may one day become a valuable new weapon in the arsenal to combat insect pests.
Bill Sullivan receives funding from the National Institutes of Health.
Director Walter Salles’s first feature film since 2012, the Oscar-nominated I’m Still Here is a return to home ground, and a return to strength, for the Brazilian auteur. At 68, Salles reconnects with his youth, telling a story in which he does not figure, but takes up the role of witness to the pain of others.
I’m Still Here is adapted from the autobiographical novel Ainda Estou Aqui by Salles’s contemporary, the writer Marcelo Rubens Paiva. The novel recounts Paiva’s father’s disappearance in 1971, under the repressive dictatorship of Emílio Garrastazu Médici, through the memories of the author’s mother, Eunice Paiva.
In Salles’s film, the Paivas lead an enchanted life in a house facing Leblon beach in Rio de Janeiro, until the long arm of the military regime wrecks their dream.
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Beloved family head, Rubens (Selton Mello), an engineer and congressman secretly collaborating with the underground opposition, is kidnapped by state police under the pretence of a routine interrogation. It then befalls his wife Eunice (Fernanda Torres) to sustain family life and give their children a sense of future while trying to find out what happened to her husband.
It’s the second act of the film, particularly the harrowing yet restrained sequences of Eunice’s days-long detention, that reveal the stakes of the story. Her traumatic experience in jail and increasingly desperate search for her husband afterwards is framed as a transformative journey. It’s one that will culminate 25 years later, when the memory of the disappeared is reinstated in the official archives of the nation’s history.
I’m Still Here adopts a linear style of storytelling and classical three-act structure (stability, disruption, reparation) that serves historical closure, reinforced by the display of the Paiva family’s photographic archive in the closing credits.
This familiar convention takes on a special poignancy in I’m Still Here, where the private archive is a powerful alternative to a discredited “official” media narrative. The reconstruction of everyday life conveys endurance and resistance. This in turn brings to the fore the gendered dynamics of the Paiva household.
Rubens’s underground political activity against the regime means that he leads a double life to which Eunice, for all her loving closeness to her husband, remains ignorant of. This is sorely tested when Rubens disappears. With him the main source of income, it leaves Eunice and the children to cobble together a new existence in São Paulo.
Adopting Eunice’s perspective throughout, the film observes how her relationship with her eldest daughters begins to fracture as they find different ways of coping with traumatic loss and an uncertain future. However, the film stays clear of melodrama, leaving Eunice to internalise the process instead.
In the lead role, the prolific 59-year-old actor Fernanda Torres carries the film as effortlessly in fitted pencil skirts and chic geometric patterns of late 1960s fashion. Her screen chemistry with the slightly younger Selton Mello – they are the perfect couple while happiness lasts – is palpable.
Torres’s controlled, nuanced performance navigates the family’s shift in fortunes with measured calm and steely determination, even as she gradually comes to terms with the fact that she’s on her own.
In this way, the film is a clear-cut tribute to a “feminine” politics of resilience. This matches the preference for a linear biopic over focus on fraught alliances and betrayals that may have determined the course of 1970s political life in Brazil.
Despite its stark subject matter and suffering heroine, the retro pleasures of I’m Still Here form one of the film’s strongest aspects. The measure of the family’s loss is given by a sweeping first act. Despite the all too readable signs of what’s to come (the film opens with Eunice enjoying a solitary swim in crystalline waters, disturbed by the sound of helicopters hovering above), the viewer is invited to live in the joyous present of the Paiva household.
The dynamic camerawork captures the energy of the children, connecting the space of the beach with the open-doors house where Eunice and Rubens act as genial hosts for their friends.
Through references to the vibrant tropicália musical movement the film celebrates and mourns not only the centrality of music to Brazilian cultural life, but the tastes of a cosmopolitan, white liberal middle class (to which Salles also belongs) whose lives and aspirations were cut short by the dictatorship.
Torres’s real-life mother, the decorated Brazilian actress Fernanda Montenegro, plays the older Eunice in the film’s closing scenes. The match is near perfect, as they both command the same intense yet guarded look.
Eunice’s character arc signifies the nation’s rise to consciousness. She goes back to study in her forties, becoming a lawyer working on behalf of the rights of indigenous women and in support of the families of the disappeared.
This personal engagement in justice and reparation is blighted by dementia. In 2014, the nonagenarian Eunice played by Montenegro is a silent, wheelchair-bound Alzheimer sufferer. This epilogue, shot in bleached digital textures vividly contrasts with the vibrant memories captured in the (recreated) Super-8 films shot by the Paivas.
As Brazil pulls itself together after the twin catastrophes of COVID and Bolsonarism, I’m Still Here’s cautionary tale for the present may be curtailed by the fact that its emotional core is placed so firmly in mourning its past, depicted as a idyllic moment of happiness and optimism before Brazil was robbed of its future.
Belén Vidal receives funding for her research project AGE-C. Ageing and Gender in European Cinema, Co-investigator which is funded by VolkswagenStiftung, 2023-2026.
A loggerhead turtle nesting. Mollie Rickwood, CC BY-NC-ND
Rising global temperatures are a particularly acute threat for the world’s sea turtles. That’s because the temperature of a turtle’s nest controls the sex of their offspring.
Coming ashore onto a beach (often the beach from where they hatched), sea turtles use their flippers to carefully scoop out the sand and create flask-shaped nests in the sand in which they lay their eggs. There is no maternal care for these nests – their success depends solely on the environment. Hotter nests will produce more female hatchlings, but fewer babies will survive into adulthood once temperatures rise above a critical threshold.
Unless sea turtles find a way to counteract rising nest temperatures, climate change could produce an increasing number of females and fewer offspring – a frightening scenario for sea turtle biologists like us.
Fortunately, we were pleased to discover that green and loggerhead turtles that breed in North Cyprus are arriving earlier in the year to offset some of the impacts of rising incubation temperatures.
Since the early 1990s, the Society for the Protection of Turtles and our team at the University of Exeter have been working together to monitor and protect the green and loggerhead turtles that nest on the beaches of North Cyprus.
Every summer, a team of dedicated volunteers patrols nesting beaches to record every nest that has been laid. They place temperature data-loggers into these nests and tag every female they encounter. The result is a unique database of over 1,300 individual female turtles for whom the date, location and hatching success of her nests is known.
Using this database, we were able to show that, since 1992, green and loggerhead turtles in North Cyprus are nesting more than half a day earlier each year (greens 0.61 days, loggerheads 0.78 days). Before the mid 2000s, no turtles had been recorded nesting before June, but now we expect to see quite a few nests from the start of May.
Do the seasons feel increasingly weird to you? You’re not alone. Climate change is distorting nature’s calendar, causing plants to flower early and animals to emerge at the wrong time.
This article is part of a series, Wild Seasons, on how the seasons are changing – and what they may eventually look like.
If temperatures keep rising at current rates, we estimated that to maintain current sex ratios, the loggerhead turtles would need to keep nesting half a day earlier each year. To prevent a decrease in hatching rates, they’ll need to nest 0.7 days earlier each year.
This means that, for the time being, our loggerheads are shifting their nesting dates early enough to maintain current incubation temperatures and, therefore, sex ratios and hatching success. Good news.
Though our study in loggerheads offers cause for optimism, there is no guarantee that the females will continue to nest earlier and earlier each year. To try to understand if this might be the case, we wanted to understand whether temperature was the main factor driving this earlier nesting.
Temperature isn’t everything
For individual green turtles, we confirmed that the temperature is an important factor in causing them to nest earlier. In fact, we found that individual females will nest 6.47 days earlier for every degree celsius increase in sea temperature.
However, we also showed that how many times a female has bred before and the number of times she lays eggs in a breeding season explain an equal amount of the variation in her lay dates. These observations have important effects when we think about what is happening to the green turtle population as a whole.
As a result of conservation measures such as protecting the nests from predation and relocating nests laid too close to the high water line we have seen a big population increase in the green turtles at our study site in North Cyprus. Since 1992, numbers have grown from 55 nests per year to over 400.
Understanding the current trend of earlier nesting is complicated. But, for now, we can be assured that sea turtles are doing just enough to counteract the negative effects of climate change – which is fantastic news.
The turtles are doing their bit. Now, it is up to us to ensure the continued conservation and long-term monitoring of this charismatic ocean ambassador to give them the best chance of survival in our changing world.
Don’t have time to read about climate change as much as you’d like?
Annette Broderick receives funding from the Darwin Initiative, MAVA Foundation, Natural Environment Research Council and the Royal Society
Robin Snape is affiliated with The Society for the Protection of Turtles (SPOT).
Mollie Rickwood 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 – Africa – By Andrew Robert Donaldson, Senior Research Associate, Southern Africa Labour and Development Research Unit, University of Cape Town
The reason for the abrupt cancellation was the failure of the minister to get cabinet approval for the proposal to raise value added tax (VAT) from 15% to 17%. VAT is the second biggest contributor to tax collection after personal income tax, followed by corporate taxes.
The strongest opposition to the idea came from parties that have joined the African National Congress in a government of national unity which was formed after the ruling party lost its majority in polls in June 2024.
To understand the finance minister’s efforts to raise VAT it’s helpful to revisit the revenue proposals of a year ago.
In the 2024 budget, all the additional revenue was to come from a “stealth tax” on personal income. Because personal income tax is levied at increasing rates as income rises, the tax burden rises as wages go up if tax thresholds are not adjusted for inflation.
In the Treasury’s estimates, R16.3 billion (US$889 million) was raised in 2024/25 by not making inflation-related adjustments to the personal income tax brackets and rebates. This meant that another 200,000 income-earners became taxpayers, and everyone’s effective tax rate was raised.
This has been a long-standing trend. Over the past decade, the tax threshold (for individuals under the age of 65) has declined from R115,000 (in today’s prices) to R95,750, bringing about 850,000 more people into the tax net.
Above the threshold, tax rates were raised by one percentage point in 2015 and the 45% rate was introduced in 2017.
As a strategy for raising personal income tax, the results have been impressive. Personal income tax has increased from 8% of GDP in 2014 to nearly 10%. In the nine months to December 2024, personal income tax increased by over 13% compared with the same period in 2023. Even after taking account of the revenue windfall from retirement fund withdrawals following recent reforms, this signals a substantial erosion of households’ disposable income.
But that is precisely the problem. Taxes collected on goods and services (mainly VAT and excise duties) increased by just 0.4% last year by comparison with 2023. Revenue from corporate income tax declined. The implication is clear: higher taxes on personal income are at least partially offset by reduced consumption and declines in revenue from other sources.
So the Treasury has taken the view, this year, that there should be relief given in the personal income tax and that additional revenue will have to come from taxes on consumption.
There are good reasons for this: personal income tax has contributed a rising share of the overall tax burden over the past decade, while households also face rising costs of electricity, housing and services. However, raising VAT also has its downsides: it generates revenue by raising prices relative to the costs of production, and effectively also reduces households’ spending power.
The Treasury’s estimate is that an increase in VAT from 15% to 17% would raise an additional R60 billion (US$3.3 billion) in revenue. To offset the impact on low-income households, the schedule of basic foods that don’t attract VAT will be extended beyond the present list of 21 items to include various specified meat cuts and tinned and bottled vegetables. In addition, above-inflation adjustments to social grants are proposed.
The main argument against increasing the VAT rate is that it is regressive – it has a greater impact on lower-income households than on the rich. But a two percentage point VAT increase would also be a substantial shock to overall consumption spending. It would temporarily raise inflation and it would have a negative impact on business income and profitability.
The arguments for a higher VAT rate, rather than other tax increases, are in part about its broad base and comparative ease of collection.
There are nonetheless valid concerns from an administrative perspective. The Treasury argues that other countries have higher VAT rates than South Africa (Morocco, Turkey, Brazil and India, for example). But this is not in itself protection against the potential impact of a higher tax rate on non-compliance and tax fraud.
The upsides
There may be deeper economic considerations behind the Treasury’s tax proposal.
The most compelling arguments for VAT as a revenue source are in its basic design structure: what is taxed and what is not. There are two key features. The first is that it taxes imports and zero-rates exports. The second is that the VAT base excludes investment.
The import VAT is sometimes seen as an unfair form of trade protection. But it simply levels the consumption tax across foreign and domestic-produced goods. And it’s simpler than excise and sales taxes.
The important consideration for domestic production is that by comparison with alternative taxes on income, the VAT encourages exports.
The exclusion of investment from the VAT base caused some controversy when the tax was introduced in 1990. Some argued that this would bias economic development in favour of capital and against labour. But investment and employment are complements. To achieve higher rates of employment, South Africa needs far greater levels of investment. Since 2013, investment has fallen as a percentage of GDP from 19% to less than 15%: nowhere enough to generate growth sufficient to bring down South Africa’s unemployment rate.
Because the VAT base is consumption, not investment, it supports expansion of the economy’s productive capacity.
Managing the fallout
But this doesn’t change the short-term impact on the cost of living that would result from a VAT rise. A higher tax burden will reduce demand and inhibit growth at first, before potentially contributing to fiscal stability and lower interest rates.
If the tax increase is to be avoided, then the spotlight will have to fall on the expenditure side of the budget. This is a far harder discussion than tax policy – there are a thousand options to consider, and there are vested interests wherever you look.
If Godongwana’s VAT rate increase is to be rejected, tough choices on the alternatives will have to be confronted.
Andrew Robert Donaldson is a former National Treasury official.
Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Guilherme Casarões, Professor of Political Science, Escola de Administração de Empresas de São Paulo da Fundação Getúlio Vargas (FGV/EAESP)
The indictment filed by the attorney general’s office on Tuesday February 18 against Brazil’s former president Jair Bolsonaro and 33 other people is the country’s most eagerly awaited – and most important – political event of recent months. The document doesn’t really contain any new elements: almost all of the facts presented were already included in the indictment filed by the federal police in November last year.
There are two major developments. The first is Bolsonaro’s accountability for a process of democratic subversion, which lasted until the events of January 8, 2023. It all began in 2021, as soon as the supreme court overturned convictions against former president Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva and paved the way for his return to the electoral game.
The decision in favour of Lula led Bolsonaro to adopt, according to the complaint, “a growing tone of rupture with institutional normality”. Since then, the president, his allies and supporters have begun to question the legitimacy of the Supreme Court (based on the slogan “Supreme is the people”), as well as the suitability of the electronic ballot boxes.
Anti-democratic narratives were inspired by Trump slogans
In both cases, the anti-democratic narratives were inspired by Donald Trump’s 2020 campaign slogans, such as “stop the steal” and “big lie”. Emulating Trumpism has been an inseparable part of Bolsonaro’s political strategy since his 2018 presidential campaign.
The second new development concerns the characterisation, as a coup attempt, of a set of decisions and plans that don’t fit the classic model of institutional rupture. Since Brazil’s republican political history has been marked by coups d’état, a common strategy in Jair Bolsonaro’s defence is based on the idea that if there was no attempt to put tanks on the streets or close down congress, there was no intention to break up democracy.
In his 272-page report, Paulo Gonet argues that a contemporary coup can happen by other means. In the Brazilian case, the attempt was marked by the overt use of disinformation mechanisms, often by the president himself and members of the government, to promote distrust in institutions and the electoral process, produce social instability and ensure that Bolsonaro remained in power, even after being defeated at the polls.
But the complaint goes further. It wasn’t just an attempt to undermine democracy with widely disseminated narratives and attacks on supporters on social media. In the words of the attorney general, among the objectives of the criminal organisation set up for the coup were to carry out “kidnappings, arrests and killings” in order to guarantee control of the three branches of government and the re-establishment of law and order.
High-ranking officers were part of anti-democratic plan
The report says according to the coup plan, called “Green and Yellow Dagger”, members of the army special forces would assassinate the supreme court justice, Alexandre de Moraes, as well as the winners of the 2022 election, Lula da Silva and his vice-president, Geraldo Alckmin. The plan had already been known for a few months, but Gonet brings elements to support the case that Jair Bolsonaro was not only aware of these steps, but that he agreed to them.
The accusations against the former president also shed light on the role of the military in the coup plot. Officers of all ranks, starting with members of the president’s inner circle, such as Admiral Almir Garnier and Generals Augusto Heleno, Paulo Sérgio Nogueira and Walter Braga Netto, were integral parts of the anti-democratic planning.
Bolsonaro continues to deny all the accusations and is trying to stay alive politically. And the complaint puts Bolsonaro in the position of being politically persecuted. Victimisation is one of the far right’s most popular strategies, as it allows them to project themselves, in the name of the people, against an empty and frightening enemy (the “system”).
Although Gonet was very careful in drafting his complaint as an exclusively legal piece, Bolsonaro – in congress and on the networks – was quick to denounce an alleged persecution against “the greatest political leader Brazil has ever seen”. In other words, the tension against political institutions is in full swing.
Bolsonarismo remains the main opposition force
The accusation also has the potential to inflame Bolsonaro’s supporters, with possible electoral consequences. The next national election in Brazil is a year and a half away and Bolsonaro remains the main opposition force. Figures such as former first lady Michelle Bolsonaro, congressman Eduardo Bolsonaro and the governor of São Paulo, Tarcísio de Freitas, are projected as candidates for the 2026 presidential race.
Faced with a weak government, whose popularity has fallen from 35 per cent to 24 per cent since December, a Bolsonarism unified by the narrative of persecution will be a major problem for Lula. This narrative will be tested in mid-March, when national demonstrations have been called against the current government – and in favour of Bolsonaro.
Finally, we must monitor how the White House responds to political events in Brazil. We know that pressure from the Biden administration was crucial in preventing the coup d’état from materialising in 2022. Trump and his allies, such as Elon Musk and Marco Rubio, are open critics of Lula and the decisions of the supreme court.
It’s unlikely that the Trump administration, a month after taking office, will treat the Brazilian political situation as a priority. But the road to 2026 will be long and tortuous, and challenges to democracy can come from both inside and outside the country.
Guilherme Casarões não presta consultoria, trabalha, possui ações ou recebe financiamento de qualquer empresa ou organização que poderia se beneficiar com a publicação deste artigo e não revelou nenhum vínculo relevante além de seu cargo acadêmico.
You may have noticed that changes in weight are sometimes accompanied by changes in your period.
But what does one really have to do with the other?
Maintaining a healthy weight is key to regular menstruation. Here’s why – and when to talk to your doctor.
The role of hormones
The menstrual cycle – including when you bleed and ovulate – is regulated by a balance of hormones, particularly oestrogen.
The ovaries are connected to the brain through a hormonal signalling system. This acts as a kind of “chain of command” of hormones controlling the menstrual cycle.
The brain produces a key hormone, called the gonadotropin-releasing hormone, in the hypothalamus. It stimulates the release of other hormones which tell the ovaries to produce oestrogen and release a mature egg (ovulation).
But the release of the gonadotropin-releasing hormone depends on oestrogen levels and how much energy is available to the body. Both of these are closely related to body weight.
Oestrogen is primarily produced in the ovaries, but fat cells also produce oestrogen. This is why weight – and more specifically body fat – can affect menstruation.
Fat cells produce oestrogen, a hormone with a key role in the menstrual cycle. Halfpoint/Shutterstock
Can being underweight affect my period?
The body prioritises conserving energy. When reserves are low it stops anything non-essential, such as reproduction.
This can happen when you are underweight, or suddenly lose weight. It can also happen to people who undertake intense exercise or have inadequate nutrition.
The stress sends the hypothalamus into survival mode. As a result, the body lowers its production of the hormones important to ovulation, including oestrogen, and stops menstruation.
Being chronically underweight means not having enough energy available to support reproduction, which can lead to menstrual irregularities including amenorrhea (no periods at all).
This results in very low oestrogen levels and can cause potentially serious health risks, including infertility and bone loss.
Missing periods is not always a cause for concern. But a chronic lack of energy availability can be, if not addressed. The two are linked, meaning understanding your period and being aware of any prolonged changes is important.
How about being overweight?
Higher body fat can elevate oestrogen levels.
When you’re overweight your body stores extra energy in fat cells, which produce oestrogen and other hormones and can cause inflammation in the body. So, if you have a lot of fat cells, your body produces an excess of these hormones. This can affect normal functioning of the uterus lining (endometrium).
Excess oestrogen and inflammation can interfere in the feedback system to the brain and stop ovulation. As a result, you may have irregular or missed periods.
It can also lead to pain (dysmenorrhea) and heavier bleeding (menorrhagia).
Being overweight can sometimes worsen premenstrual syndrome as well. One study found for every 1 kg increase in height (m²) in body mass index (BMI), the risk of premenstrual syndrome went up by 3%. Women with a BMI over 27.5 kg/m² had a much higher risk than those with a BMI under 20 kg/m².
Sometimes weight changes are linked to hormonal balances that indicate an underlying condition.
For example, people with polycystic ovary syndrome may gain weight or find it hard to lose weight because they have a hormonal imbalance, including higher levels of testosterone.
The syndrome is also associated with irregular periods and heavy bleeding. So, if you notice these symptoms, it’s a good idea to talk to your doctor.
Similarly, weight changes and irregular periods in midlife might signal the start of perimenopause, the period before menopause (when your periods stop altogether).
Small changes in when your period comes or how long it lasts are usually harmless.
Similarly, slight fluctuations in weight won’t usually have a significant impact on your period – or the changes may be so subtle you don’t notice them.
But regular menstruation is an important marker of female health. Sometimes changes in flow, regularity or the pain you experience can indicate there’s something else going on.
If you notice changes and they don’t feel right to you, speak to a health care provider.
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.
Imagine you have just finished a workout. Your legs are like jelly, your lungs are burning and you just want to collapse on the couch.
But instead, you pick yourself up and go for a brisk walk.
While this might seem counterintuitive, doing some light activity after an intense workout – known as “active recovery” – has been suggested to reduce soreness and speed up recovery after exercise.
But does it work or is it just another fitness myth?
What is active recovery?
Active recovery simply describes doing some low-intensity physical activity after a strenuous bout of exercise.
This is commonly achieved through low-intensity cardio, such as walking or cycling, but can also consist of low-intensity stretching, or even bodyweight exercises such as squats and lunges.
The key thing is making sure the intensity is light or moderate, without moving into the “vigorous” range.
As a general rule, if you can maintain a conversation while you’re exercising, you are working at a light-to-moderate intensity.
Some people consider doing an easy training session on their “rest days” as a form of active recovery. However, this has not really been researched. So we will be focusing on the more traditional form of active recovery in this article, where it is performed straight after exercise.
What does active recovery do?
Active recovery helps speed up the removal of waste products, such as lactate and hydrogen, after exercise. These waste products are moved from the muscles into the blood, before being broken down and used for energy, or simply excreted.
This is thought to be one of the ways it promotes recovery.
In some instances active recovery has been shown to reduce muscle soreness in the days following exercise. This may lead to a faster return to peak performance in some physical capabilities such as jump height.
This means active recovery can be used regularly after exercise without the risk of affecting the benefits of the main exercise session.
There’s evidence to the contrary too
Not all research on active recovery is positive.
Several studies indicate it’s no better than simply lying on the couch when it comes to reducing muscle soreness and improving performance after exercise.
In fact, there’s more research suggesting active recovery doesn’t have an effect than research showing it does have an effect.
While there could be several reasons for this, two stand out.
First, the way in which active recovery is applied in the research varies as lot. It’s likely there is a sweet spot in terms of how long active recovery should last to maximise its benefits (more on this later).
Second, it’s likely the benefits of active recovery are trivial to small. As such, they won’t always be considered “significant” in the scientific literature, despite offering potentially meaningful benefits at an individual level. In sport science, studies often have small sample sizes, which can make it hard to see small effects.
But there doesn’t seem to be any research suggesting active recovery is less effective than doing nothing, so at worst it certainly won’t cause any harm.
When is active recovery useful?
Active recovery appears useful if you need to perform multiple bouts of exercise within a short time frame. For example, if you were in a tournament and had 10–20 minutes between games, then a quick active recovery would be better than doing nothing.
Active recovery might also be a useful strategy if you have to perform exercise again within 24 hours after intense activity.
For example, if you are someone who plays sport and you need to play games on back-to-back days, doing some low-intensity active recovery after each game might help reduce soreness and improve performance on subsequent days.
Similarly, if you are training for an event like a marathon and you have a training session the day after a particularly long or intense run, then active recovery might get you better prepared for your next training session.
Conversely, if you have just completed a low-to-moderate intensity bout of exercise, it’s unlikely active recovery will offer the same benefits. And if you will get more than 24 hours of rest between exercise sessions, active recovery is unlikely to do much because this will probably be long enough for your body to recover naturally anyway.
The good news is you don’t have to do a lot of active recovery to see a benefit.
A systematic review looking at the effectiveness of active recovery across 26 studies found 6–10 minutes of exercise was the sweet spot when it came to enhancing recovery.
Interestingly, the intensity of exercise didn’t seem to matter. If it was within this time frame, it had a positive effect.
So it makes sense to make your active recovery easy (because why would you make it hard if you don’t have to?) by keeping it in the light-to-moderate intensity range.
However, don’t expect active recovery to be a complete game changer. The research would suggest the benefits are likely to be small at best.
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.
Archaeologists in Egypt have made an exciting discovery: the tomb of Pharaoh Thutmose II, a ruler who has long been overshadowed by his famous wife and half-sister, Queen Hatshepsut.
The remarkable find is located in the Western Valley (a burial ground for queens rather than kings), near the complex of Deir el-Bahari, which houses the funerary temple of Hatshepsut. Both of us worked together as archaeologists at this spectacular site some 15 years ago.
Thutmose II’s tomb has been labelled the first, and biggest, discovery of a royal tomb since Tutankhamun’s tomb was found just over 100 years ago.
Despite being totally empty, it’s a crucial element in further understanding a transformative period in ancient Egyptian history.
Hatshepsut’s forgotten brother and husband
Thutmose II (also called Akheperenre) reigned in the first half of the 15th century BCE. This made him the fourth ruler of the 18th Egyptian Dynasty, which marked the beginning of the New Kingdom period.
Thutmose II likely ruled for a little over ten years, although some scholars believe his reign may have lasted only three years.
He was the son of a great pharaoh Thutmose I and his lesser wife, Mutnofret. He married his half-sister Queen Hatshepsut according to the royal custom, to solidify the rule and bloodline. Together they had a daughter named Nefrure.
Thutmose II’s mummy was discovered in 1881 but his original tomb was unknown until now. Wikimedia
Upon his death, his wife Hatshepsut became the sixth pharaoh of the 18th Dynasty – and arguably one of the most famous and successful female rulers of all time.
Military activities
As the successor of Thutmose I, Thutmose II continued his father’s military policy in the southern regions of Egypt.
According to preserved inscriptions, he ordered the brutal suppression of a rebellion against Egyptian rule in the land of Kush (in present-day north Sudan). As a result, a significant number of prisoners were brought to Egypt – possibly as part of a campaign.
But Thutmose II’s military campaigns were minor in comparison to the grand conquests of his predecessors and successors. Most historians believe he was a weak ruler and that Hatshepsut had a major role in governing the country, even long before his death. However, others contest this.
Thutmose II’s short reign left modest traces of building activity in Karnak, one of the largest religious centres in ancient Egypt, located in present-day Luxor.
The structure, of which only fragments survive, features a unique decoration depicting Thutmose II, Hatshepsut as his royal wife before she became a ruler, and their daughter Nefrure. The origins of the monument are uncertain. It’s possible Thutmose II started it and Hatshepsut finished it.
The monument was reconstructed by French researchers and can now be admired at the Open Air Museum in Karnak.
Karnak is one of the most important religious centres in Ancient Egypt. Katarzyna Kapiec
Other monuments of Thutmose II were found in the southern regions of Egypt, such as in Elephantine, in the city of Aswan, and in northern Sudan (likely connected to his military campaigns).
The condemnation of Hatshepsut’s memory
Interestingly, the name of Thutmose II became strongly associated with many of Hatshepsut’s constructions due to the actions of Thutmose III.
Regarded as one of the greatest warriors, military commanders and military strategists of all time, Thutmose III was the nephew and stepson of Hatshepsut, and co-ruled with her as a regent.
At the end of Thutmose III’s reign, some 20 years after Hatshepsut’s death, he carried out a large-scale campaign to remove or alter Hatshepsut’s names and images. Scholars call this “damnatio memoriae”, or condemnation of the memory.
An example of Hatshepsut’s ‘damnatio memoriae’ at Deir el-Bahari. Hatshepsut’s cartouches (left) were defaced, while Thutmose III’s (right) remained untouched. Wikimedia
This was likely due to concerns about securing the throne for his successor, Amenhotep II, by linking him to his male ancestors.
In many cases, Hatshepsut’s name was replaced with that of Thutmose II, making him the principal celebrant in temples built by Hatshepsut, such as in Deir el-Bahari.
View at the temple of Hatshepsut at Deir el-Bahari at the dawn. Katarzyna Kapiec
What does Thutmose II’s empty tomb tell us?
The newly discovered tomb reveals fresh details about the status of Thutmose II and his role in the sociopolitical structure of 15th century BCE Egypt – a period of territorial expansion, wealth and political intrigue. It also sheds light on the perception of his rule at the time.
Thutmose II has been painted as an ineffectual ruler. And the latest findings don’t contradict this.
Unlike his father Thutmose I, who expanded Egypt’s reign through military strength, or his stepson Thutmose III, who became one of the most famous Egyptian warrior-kings, his modest tomb suggests his legacy may not have been as widely celebrated as others in his dynasty.
The tomb’s location is also intriguing, as it is near the tombs of royal wives, including the cliff tomb of Hatshepsut, which was prepared for her when she was still a royal wife.
Thutmose II’s mummy was discovered in the so-called Royal Cache in Deir el-Bahari in 1881, alongside other royal mummies. Many royal mummies were relocated here for protection from flooding and during the uncertain times of the 21st Dynasty (circa 1077–950 BCE), some 400–500 years after Thutmose II’s original burial.
However, experts suspect Thutmose II’s tomb might have been emptied even earlier due to flooding from a waterfall above it.
The two of us speculate another tomb may have been built for him, and is still awaiting discovery.
An 1881 photograph of some of the coffins and mummies found in DB320, taken before the mummies were unwrapped. Wikimedia
Ultimately, Thutmose II’s reign remains shrouded in mystery due to the lack of available records. The search for his tomb – from Western Valley, through the Valley of the Kings, all the way to Deir el-Bahari – spanned centuries.
Despite its poorly preserved state, and its scarcity compared with Tutankhamun’s splendorous tomb, this discovery will expand our understanding of the overlooked figure of Thutmose II, and the role he played in setting up the reign of Hatshepsut – arguably the most successful of the four female pharaohs.
In fact, paving the way for the ascent of Hatshepsut may have been his greatest contribution.
Anna M. Kotarba-Morley receives funding from Australian Research Council and previously received funding from National Centre of Science in Poland.
Katarzyna Kapiec receives funding from National Science Centre in Poland
Thirty-four artworks created with artificial intelligence (AI) have gone up for sale at Christie’s in New York, in the famed auction house’s first collection dedicated to AI art.
Christie’s says the collection aims to explore “human agency in the age of AI within fine art”, prompting viewers to question the evolving role of the artist and of creativity.
Questions are not all the collection has prompted: there has also been a backlash. At the time of writing, more than 6,000 artists have signed an open letter calling on Christie’s to cancel the auction.
What’s in the collection?
Sougwen Chung’s Study 33 (2024) was created through a process that captured data from an EEG headset and a computer vision system tracking body movement and fed it to a painting robot called D.O.U.G._4. Sougwen Chung / Christie’s
The Augmented Intelligence collection, up for auction from February 20 to March 5, spans work from early AI art pioneers such as Harold Cohen through to contemporary innovators such as Refik Anadol, Vanessa Rosa and Sougwen Chung.
The showcased pieces vary widely in their use of AI. Some are physical objects, some are digital-only works – sold as non-fungible tokens or NFTs – and others are offered as both digital and physical components together.
Some have a performance aspect, such as Alexander Reben’s Untitled Robot Painting 2025 (to be titled by AI at the conclusion of the sale).
After generating an initial image tile, the work iteratively expands outwards, growing with each new bid in the auction. As the image evolves digitally, it is translated onto a physical canvas by an oil-painting robot. The price estimate for the work ranges from US$100 to US$1.7 million, and at the time of writing the bid sits at US$3,000.
Alexander Reben’s Untitled Robot Painting 2025 involves art generated by AI and painted by robot as bids come in. Alexander Reben / Christie’s
Claims of exploitation
The controversy surrounding this show is not surprising. Debates over the creation of AI art have simmered ever since the technology became widely available in 2022.
The open letter calling for the auction to be cancelled argues that many works in the exhibition use “AI models that are known to be trained on copyrighted work without a license”.
Embedding Study 1 & 2 (from the xhairymutantx series) (2024) by Holly Herndon and Matt Dryhurst explores the concept of ‘Holly Herndon’ in generative AI models. Holly Herndon and Matt Dryhurst / Christie’s
The letter says:
These models, and the companies behind them, exploit human artists, using their work without permission or payment to build commercial AI products that compete with them.
[Christie’s] support of these models, and the people who use them, rewards and further incentivizes AI companies’ mass theft of human artists’ work.
Copyright and cultural appropriation
Refik Anadol’s Machine Hallucinations – ISS Dreams (2021) is a video work used an AI model trained on publicly available images taken from the International Space Station. Refik Anadol / Christie’s
There are several attempts by artists to bring legal proceedings against AI companies underway. As yet, the key question remains unresolved: by training AI models on existing artworks, do AI models infringe artists’ copyright, or is this a case of fair use?
Artists who are critical of AI are rightly concerned about losing their incomes, or their skills becoming irrelevant or outdated. They are also concerned about losing their creative community – their place in the creative ecosystem.
Last year, Indigenous artists withdrew from a Brisbane art prize, highlighting concerns about AI and cultural appropriation.
At the same time, many AI artists don’t use copyrighted material. Refik Anadol, for instance, has stated that his work in the Christie’s collection was made using publicly available datasets from NASA.
How the ‘work’ of art is changing
The Christie’s event occurs during a major shift in what it means to be an artist, and to be creative. Some participants in the show even question whether the label of “artist” is even necessary or required to make meaningful imagery and artefacts.
Many non-artists may wonder – if AI is used, where is the real “work” of art? The answer is that many forms of work will look different in the age of AI, and creative endeavours are no exception.
Creativity gave humans an evolutionary edge. What happens if society censors or undermines certain forms of creativity?
Pindar Van Arman’s Emerging Faces (2017) was created via two AI agents: one attempted to generate images of faces, while the other stopped the process as soon as it recognised the image as a face. Pindar Van Arman / Christie’s
Clinging to traditional ideas about how things are done ignores the bigger picture. When used thoughtfully, technology can stretch our creative potential.
And AI cannot make art without human artists. Creating with new technologies requires context, direction, meaning, and an aesthetic sense.
In the case of the Christie’s auction, artists are doing much more than typing in prompts. They iterate with data, refine models, and actively shape the end result.
This evolving relationship between humans and machines reframes the creative process, with AI becoming more like a “conversational partner”.
What now?
Calling for the Christie’s auction to be cancelled may be shortsighted. It oversimplifies a complex issue and sidesteps deeper questions about how we should think about authorship, what authenticity means, and the evolving relationship between artists and the tools they use.
Whether we embrace or resist AI art, the Christie’s auction pushes us to rethink artistic labour and the creative process.
At the same time, Christie’s may need to take more care to produce collections that are sensitive to contemporary issues. Artists have real concerns about loss of work and income. A “move fast and break things” approach feels ill-suited to the thoughtfulness associated with artistic production.
Harold Cohen’s Untitled (i23-3758) (1987) was produced with the groundbreaking AARON image-generating AI system. Harold Cohen / Christie’s
Beyond protest, more education and collaboration is required overall. Artists who do not adapt to new technologies and ways of creating may be left behind.
Equally important is ensuring AI does not diminish human agency or exploit creatives. Discussions around achieving sustainable and inclusive AI could follow other sectors focusing on equally sharing benefits and having rigorous ethical standards.
Examples might come from the open source community (and organisations such as the Open Source Initiative), where licensing and frameworks allow contributors to benefit from collective development. And in the tech realm, some software companies (such as IBM) do stand out for their rigorous approach to ethics.
Rather than cancelling the Christie’s auction, perhaps this is a moment for us to reimagine how we do creativity and adapt with AI.
But are artists – and audiences – prepared for a future where the nature of being an artist, and creativity itself, is radically different?
Jessica Herrington 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.
A month in, and it is clear even to conservatives that US President Donald Trump is attempting to fundamentally reshape the role of the American president.
Trump and his supporters sees the natural authority of the American president in broad terms, similar to those of the Russian president, or a king. Trump, in fact, has already likened himself to a king.
This desire to “Russify” the presidency is not an accident: Trump and many of his supporters admire the king-like power that Vladimir Putin exercises as Russian president.
Russia’s system of government is what I call a “crown-presidential” system, which makes the president a kind of elected king.
Two powers are central to this role.
First, like a king, the Russian “crown-president” does not rely on an elected legislature to make policy. Instead, Putin exercises policy-making authority unilaterally via decree.
Putin has used decrees to wage wars, privatise the economy and even to amend the constitution to lay claim to the parts of Ukraine occupied by Russia since 2014.
He has also used these decrees in a performative way, for example, by declaring pay raises for all Russian state employees without any ability to enforce it.
Over the last month, Trump has made similar use of decrees (what the White House now terms “presidential actions”).
He has issued scores of presidential decrees to unilaterally reshape vast swathes of American policy – far more than past presidents. Trump sees these orders as a way of both exercising and demonstrating his vast presidential power.
Control over the bureaucracy
Second, like a king, Putin does not allow the Russian legislature to use the law to organise the executive branch and create agencies independent of presidential control. Instead, he has unquestioned dominance over both the organisation and staffing of the executive branch. This has given him vast power to dominate politics by controlling information gathering and legal prosecutions.
A similar push is underway in the United States. Trump has appointed key loyalists to head the Department of Justice and Federal Bureau of Investigation.
Moreover, he is seeking to restructure the executive branch by abolishing some agencies altogether and vastly reducing the size of the workforce in others.
Can the courts stop Trump?
Trump’s attempt to Russify the American presidency undermines the American constitutional order.
Courts are the natural “first responders” in this kind of crisis. And many courts have blocked some of Trump’s early decrees.
This legal response is important. But it is not enough on it own.
First, the US Supreme Court might be more willing to accept this expansion of presidential power than lower courts. In a ruling last year, for example, the court granted the president immunity from criminal prosecution, showing itself to be sympathetic to broad understandings of executive power.
Second, presidential decrees can be easily withdrawn and modified. This can allow Trump and his legal team to recalibrate as his decrees are challenged and find the best test cases to take to the Supreme Court.
Third, parts of the conservative right have long argued for a far more powerful president. For instance, the idea of a “unitary executive” has been discussed in conservative circles for years. This essentially claims that the president should be able to direct and control the entire executive branch, from the bureaucracy to prosecutors to the FBI.
These arguments are already being made to justify Trump’s actions. As Elon Musk has said, “you could not ask for a stronger mandate from the public” to reform the executive branch. These arguments will be made to courts to justify Trump’s expansion of power.
Fourth, even if the Supreme Court does block some decrees, it is possible the White House will simply ignore these actions. We had an early glimpse of this when Trump posted that “He who saves his Country does not violate any Law”.
Vice President JD Vance has also said judges “aren’t allowed” to block the president’s “legitimate power”.
The importance of political mobilisation and messaging
Trump’s aggressive use of presidential power is not just a constitutional crisis, it is a political one. For those seeking to resist, this is too important to just be left to the courts; it must also involve America’s key political institutions.
The most obvious place to start is in Congress. Lawmakers must act decisively to assert the legal power granted to them in the constitution to check the power of the presidency. This would include active Congressional use of its budgeting power, as well as its oversight powers on the presidency.
This could happen now if a few Republicans were to take a principled position on important constitutional issues, though nearly all have so far preferred to fall in line. Democrats could retake both branches of Congress in the midterm elections in 2026, though, and assert this power.
The states can and should also act to resist this expansion of presidential power. This action could take many forms, including refusing to deploy their traditional police powers to enforce decrees they view to be unconstitutional or unlawful.
In mobilising to defend the constitution, these institutions could appeal to the American people with more than the narrow legal argument that Trump’s acts are unconstitutional. They could also make the broader political argument that turning the American president into a Russian-style, elected king will foster a form of inefficient, unresponsive and corrupt politics.
Or, in the words of The New York Times columnist Ezra Klein, “it’s the corruption, stupid”.
Time is of the essence. Russia shows the more time a “crown-president” is able to operate, the more entrenched this system becomes. For those hoping to preserve American democracy, the time is now for not just legal, but political resistance.
William Partlett does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
United States President Donald Trump has made a series of high-profile threats against Canada and other countries since his second term began a month ago — but his proposed educational reforms also require serious attention.
The 10 principles for educational revision include “restoring parental rights” by allowing parents to vote to appoint local school principals; abolishing teacher tenure, which will undermine teachers’ unions; and introducing merit pay. In addition, there are plans to “create a credentialing body to certify teachers who embrace patriotic values and support the American Way of Life.”
Trump declared during his inauguration speech that “we have an education system that teaches our children to be ashamed of themselves — in many cases, to hate our country … All of this will change starting today, and it will change very quickly.”
Evidently, significant educational reform is a high priority.
Reforms to the American education system should be cause for concern for Canadians. The overt attacks on public education that we are seeing in the U.S. are already occurring in Canada, albeit often in more insidious and fragmented ways.
The parental rights movement also aims to undermine school-based sexual health education, which most parents support.
Across provinces
In 2023, Saskatchewan passed a Parents’ Bill of Rights requiring parental consent for children under the age of 16 to use a different pronoun or name in school.
This year, Alberta introduced a more expansive bill banning gender-affirming care for children under the age of 16 and banning trans women and girls from competing in female sports.
The parental rights rhetoric, a dog-whistle for anti-2SLGBTQ+ views, is not new in Canada. However, it seems to be finding renewed energy, especially in conservative-led provinces.
Anti-2SLGBTQ+ rhetoric can also found in recent attempts to advocate for book bans (like in Chilliwack B.C. and in Manitoba in 2022) or in protests against Drag Queen story hours (in Ontario in 2023).
Similarly, attempts to undermine teachers and their unions are occurring.
For example, the Manitoba government recently passed Bill 35. The legislation was introduced under the premise of addressing teacher sexual misconduct, but the bill’s language was broadened to include teacher “competence” and “professionalism.”
Strong public schools rely on qualified teachers whose professional judgment and autonomy is protected and supported, in part, by teacher unions.
The events unfolding in the U.S. should act as a warning to Canadians, calling us to pay close attention to what is happening in our local school districts and school boards.
Being able to understand and identify regressive reform efforts and how they are subverting public education and democracy — as we endeavour to foster and build real relationships in our local school communities — is of urgent and national concern.
Melanie D. Janzen receives funding from Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council and is a volunteer for People for Public Education Manitoba.
Jordan Laidlaw is a volunteer for People for Public Education Manitoba.
Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Sadaf Mollaei, Arrell Research Chair in the Business of Food and Assistant Professor, Gordon S. Lang School of Business and Economics, University of Guelph
Even with the growing public interest around plant-rich diets, the number of people adopting these diets remains low, particularly in Canada. Rethinking what we call these foods could help.(Shutterstock)
“Vegan,” “vegetarian,” “meatless,” “plant-based,” “plant-rich,” “plant-forward,” “animal-free”: these are all terms used to describe foods or diets that are mostly or completely made of non-animal sources.
This list can go on and, although these terms are to some extent related, they’re not the same. For example, the term “vegan,” coined in 1944 by The Vegan Society, is used to define products that contain no animal-based ingredients.
According to Canada’s Food Guide, “vegetarian diets are those that exclude some or all animal products,” whereas a plant-based diet is defined as one that “puts more emphasis on eating plant foods such as vegetables and fruits, whole-grains and legumes (beans) and less emphasis on eating animal foods.”
In another definition, The British Dietetic Association describes a plant-based diet as “based on foods that come from plants with few or no ingredients that come from animals.”
For many, plant-based foods are often perceived as an unfamiliar option that lacks in taste or does not align with their cultural food norms. Many consumers are also confused about the true meaning of these terms, which makes choosing food more complicated.
What is the result of all this confusion and perceived barriers? Even though there are a variety of plant-based food options available in stores, and various restaurants offering vegan/vegetarian dishes or full menus, plant-based foods are not many people’s choice.
Many consumers are confused about the meaning of labels like ‘vegan,’ ‘plant-based’ and ‘plant-forward.’ (Shutterstock)
A recent report by Globe Scan, an international insights and advisory firm, showed that “although 68 per cent of people worldwide express interest in consuming more plant-based foods, only 20 per cent do so regularly, down from 23 per cent in 2023.”
The report noted that with rising food costs, many consumers have returned to “cheaper, familiar foods” rather than plant-based alternatives. Therefore, there is a growing need for more population-level support and interventions to help consumers navigate their food choices.
The responsibility and pressure to make the “right” choice should not be solely on the consumer. They cannot be expected to make radical and sudden changes to their eating habits such as entirely eliminating meat. However, small modifications, such as gradually reducing animal-based food (instaed of complete elimiation) and moving towards plant-rich diets, is a promising solution.
So, what does this mean for food producers, restaurant owners and decision-makers who want to promote their products? They should use appealing language and framing to describe food, whether it’s the description on a menu or labels on a package. It’s important to avoid using labels that create more confusion or reinforce the feeling of unfamiliarity.
Here are four low-cost tips and recommendations that could help positively influence consumer choices:
1) Leverage the halo effect
The halo effect is a cognitive bias where one positive characteristic or impression of a product influences the overall perception. In terms of food labelling, this means people might be more likely to purchase food if the name is appealing to them.
Research shows labelling food vegan can decrease consumers’ taste expectations and, in turn, their purchasing intentions. On the contrary, labels and names that use appealing language that promotes delicious, high-quality food, evokes enjoyment and increases positive reactions is a strategy that has proven effective in altering consumer choices.
Using variants of ‘plant-based’ in food labelling instead of vegan or vegetarian has proven to increase mainstream consumer purchasing intent. (Shutterstock)
2) Emphasize the role of sensory appeal
A study by The Good Food Institute found that consumers responded more favourably to plant-based burgers described with indulgent terms compared to those labelled with health-focused or restrictive language.
Why? Because using descriptive language that highlights the taste, texture and overall eating experience attracts a broader audience. Terms such as savoury, juicy or spicy can enhance the appeal of plant-based dishes. Think about “Juicy American Burger” versus a plant-based alternative that might be described simply as “Vegan Burger.”
3) Refrain from using terms with negative connotation
Steer clear of labels that may imply restriction, compromise or carry unintended negative connotations. Instead focus on terminology that implies inclusivity and offers complementary choices. The terms vegan and vegetarian are shown to be associated with negative stereotypes and feelings among some consumers, particularly the term vegan.
Steer clear of labels that may imply restriction, compromise or carry unintended negative connotations. (Shutterstock)
A further recommendation is to avoid labels such as plant-based milk “substitute” (for example for oat milk) or “veggie burger,” which can imply a replacement for existing choice and create an unnecessary competition between the choices.
4) Highlight provenance and culinary tradition
Plant-rich diets are not a new invention. Many food cultures around the globe have been plant-based for many years. Therefore, there is no need to reinvent the wheel to come up with labels and names. Take falafel, for example: it is essentially a veggie burger with a different name, yet it is popular among consumers.
Research also demonstrates highlighting food origins (also known as the country-of-origin effect) and including geographic references makes foods more appealing; for example, Panera Bread had a boost is soup sales by changing the name of one dish from “Low Fat Vegetarian Black Bean Soup” to “Cuban Black Bean Soup.”
Adopting a plant-rich diet is considered healthy and can be budget-friendly. Using language that appeals to consumers, instead of unfamiliar terms that may have negative associations for many people, can help encourage these dietary choices among a broader group of consumers.
Sadaf Mollaei 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.
This collage shows (left to right) Shudu, Miquela Sousa, imma, and Rozy — four “vritual influencers” who collectively have over 3 million followers on Instagram alone. @shudu.gram, @lilmiquela, @imma.gram, @rozy.gram/Instagram
You probably know what an “influencer” is — people with large, highly engaged social media followings who have the power to sway beliefs and purchasing decisions.
But you might not have yet heard of virtual influencers.
They’re like human influencers … but they’re not human. They’re characters brought to life by CGI and AI, designed to target demographic groups from a first-person perspective.
Virtual influencers are becoming more popular and prevalent every day. A full-blown industry has sprung up around them — an industry with agencies and companies dedicated to creating and managing them, with some of the top personas earning millions annually.
But our guest today has noticed a troubling pattern — many virtual influencers are crafted as young women of colour. And their creators are often men with different racial identities who work at marketing agencies.
Jul Parke is a PhD candidate at the University of Toronto’s Faculty of Information specializing in social media platforms, digital racism, virtual influencers and AI phenomena. She is currently a visiting scholar at New York University.
Parke’s doctoral research explores what motivates companies and creators to produce these virtual, racialized women, which she says is a new form of commercializing gender and racial identity in digital spaces.
As we enter the era of AI proliferation, it seems virtual influencers are here to stay. There are at least 200 digital personalities out there today, and platforms like Facebook, Instagram and TikTok are rolling out new tools that will enable everyday users to craft their own virtual personas.
Given the absence of laws for non-humans, the rise of virtual influencers on social media raises a whole host of urgent ethical questions about authenticity online.
Source: The Conversation – UK – By Katya Alkhateeb, Senior Researcher in International Human Rights Law & Humanitarian Law at Essex Law School and Human Rights Centre, University of Essex
The capture of Damascus by Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS) and the collapse of the regime of Bashar al-Assad last December sent shockwaves through Syria’s political landscape, heralding an unprecedented shift in power. The rise to power of HTS, formerly the Al-Nusra Front, is a litmus test for assessing whether militant Islamist organisations can evolve through state-building.
At the heart of transforming Syria must be the development and safeguarding of women’s rights. This will prove a revealing lens through which to measure the sincerity of HTS’s professed reforms.
But so far a stark disparity has emerged between their rhetoric of inclusivity and reality. This appears to involve perpetuating entrenched institutional practices of patriarchal conservatism.
After seizing Damascus, HTS leader Ahmed al-Sharaa took pains to project an image of inclusive governance. He claimed: “Syria is a nation of many identities and beliefs, and our duty is to ensure they coexist peacefully within a just system.” He highlighted that 60% of university students in the city of Idlib are women, and portrayed HTS as a moderate force that values women’s roles in society.
Yet interviews with senior regime figures as well as policy decisions and governance practices expose these statements as hollow. Instead they suggest a deep-seated commitment to hardline religious conservatism.
The new administration’s official spokesperson, Obaida Arnaout, said recently that appointing a woman to a role in the ministry of defence would not “align with her essence, her biological and psychological nature”. This was framed as acknowledging women’s suitability for other roles, but it ultimately reflects a deeply conservative, patriarchal attitude.
Likewise, the appointment of Aisha al-Dibs to lead the office for women’s affairs initially appeared to signal progress. But her first few statements suggested a regressive agenda.
Blaming civil society organisations for “rising divorce rates”, she vowed that “the constitution will be based on Islamic Sharia”. She added that she would “not allow space for those who disagree with my ideology”.
Al-Dibs’s vision of empowerment appears to be rigidly conservative. It effectively reduces women’s roles to family, husband and domestic priorities.
These two examples highlight in HTS what appears to be a strategy of commandeering state institutions to enforce a radicalised version of Islam, a key trait of political Jihadism.
The new HTS-backed justice minister, Shadi al-Waisi epitomises this trend. In 2015, as a judge in the northern city of Idlib – at the time under the control of the Al-Nusra Front – he was recorded on video ordering women to be executed for adultery. An HTS representative has since dismissed this as “a phase we have surpassed”. But Al-Waisi still argues that since most people in Syria are Muslim, religious Sharia law should take priority.
As far as women’s role in the judiciary is concerned, a statement from Arnaout casts doubt on whether they will be allowed to continue to act as judges, a hard-won right under the Assad regime. In 2017, 30% of judicial posts were occupied by women.
But in an interview with Lebanese TV channel Al-Jadeed in December 2024, Arnaout said: “Certainly, women have the right to learn and be educated in any field, whether in education, law, the judiciary, or other fields, but the job has to suit her nature.” She added: “For a woman to assume a judicial position, this could be examined by experts, and it is too early to talk about it.”
Education policy has also become a key battleground. The new administration has introduced sweeping reforms. These include dropping evolution and big bang theory from science and changing the history curriculum to reflect a more Islamic slant.
Beyond the classroom, HTS’s hardline policies pervade public life. Women are segregated on buses, strict dress codes are heavily propagated. Meanwhile building new mosques is taking precedence over rebuilding war-torn infrastructure.
HTS’s unwillingness to embrace genuine pluralism suggest the regime is more interested in rebranding its ideology than in reforming it.
Diplomatic promises and realities on the ground
While determining how to engage with the HTS regime, other countries need to be aware of this. They must act in the knowledge that rhetoric of inclusivity appears – at present at least – to be simply that: rhetoric. Firm pressure from international stakeholders such as the United Nations will be needed to hold HTS accountable to a transition to a fully inclusive new system of government.
A conference held in Paris on February 13 and attended by representatives of a broad range of Arab and European countries underscored the international commitment to this principle. Delegates produced a joint statement that called for: “A peaceful, credible, orderly and swift inclusive transition … so that a representative and inclusive governance that represents all components of Syrian society and includes women from the onset can be formed.”
The explicit mention of women and inclusive representation in this statement stands in stark contrast to the reality of the transitional process. Just a day earlier, on February 12, the appointed preparatory committee for the upcoming National Dialogue Conference, which will thrash out a new “political identity” for Syria, revealed the limitations of this commitment.
While the seven-member committee includes two women, five members have strong ties to Islamist movements and three of the seven are directly linked to HTS.
The committee’s composition notably fails to represent Syria’s diverse ethnic and religious communities, with no Kurdish, Alawite, or Druze representatives. This raises questions about the genuine commitment to inclusive governance in the transition process.
The contradiction between HTS rhetoric and its actions on diversity and inclusivity, especially when it comes to respecting women’s rights, is not just a domestic issue but a critical test of its global standing.
The new regime’s treatment of women and its enforcement of conservative ideology in violation of legal and human rights expose its broader intentions. Failing to address these signs risks condemning Syria to a repressive future.
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.
When I first arrived at the top secret Porton Down laboratory, I was aware of very little about its activities. I knew it was the UK’s chemical defence research centre and that over the years it had conducted tests with chemical agents on humans.
But what really happened there was shrouded in mystery. This made it a place which was by turns fascinating and scary. Its association with the cold war, reinforced by images of gas mask-wearing soldiers and reports of dangerous (and in one case fatal) experiments, also made it seem a little sinister.
The shroud of secrecy resulted in it being the subject of some lively fiction, such as The Satan Bug by Alistair MacLean, which revolves around the theft of two deadly germ warfare agents from a secret research facility and in the “Hounds of Baskerville” episode of the BBC drama Sherlock in which the hero uncovers a sinister plot involving animals experiments.
Even Porton’s own publicity material recognises that where secrecy exists imagination can take flight, and attests:
No aliens, either alive or dead have ever been taken to Porton Down or any other Dstl [Defence Science and Technology Laboratory] site.
But it’s also the place where in recent years scientists analysed samples confirming that a Novichok nerve agent had been used to poison former Russian spy Sergei Skripal and his daughter (coincidentally, just a few miles away). And where an active research programme on Ebola played an important role in the UK’s support to Sierra Leone during the 2014 outbreak.
So what is the truth? Over three years my research took me into the heart of the mystery, as I studied its extensive historical archive. The reality was not as I expected. I came across no aliens, but I did discover records of experiments that ran from the ordinary, through to the bizarre. And sadly, in one isolated case, the lethal.
Arriving at Porton Down, for example, was unexpectedly low key. The main gate is located off a public road on an otherwise quiet stretch between Porton Down village and the A30. It is in many ways visually similar to the entrance to Lancaster University in the north of England where I work as a lecturer in epidemiology.
Bar some signs announcing it as the Defence Science and Technology Laboratory (dstl) of the Ministry of Defence, the road is devoid of obvious security. No barriers block entry. This sense of the extraordinary hiding behind the ordinary was reinforced by the undistinguished visitor car park from where it is a short walk to the nondescript single story reception building.
There is also (perhaps unusually for a government chemical weapons research centre) a bus stop next to the main gate, from where you can get the number 66 to Salisbury.
So on my first visit in 2002 I made that short walk from the visitor car park to the reception and announced myself. I was pleased to find I was expected and looked into the security camera as bidden. After a hard stare from the receptionist I was issued, on that my first day, with a temporary pass. On it was written: “MUST BE ACCOMPANIED AT ALL TIMES” in bright red.
My contact, Dawn, arrived and led me through the main gate where security started to become more obvious. An armed policeman gave us a small nod as we passed through, his hands staying firmly on the machine gun strapped to his chest. Dawn paid little attention other than a brief hello and we were inside, heading to the headquarters.
It was from here that the management of Porton Down organised the programmes of testing which had ultimately resulted in my presence there – to research the health effects of chemical experiments on humans.
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Since its inception in 1916 it has researched chemical weapons, protective measures against chemical weapons, and has recruited over 20,000 volunteers to participate in tests in its research programmes.
Hut 42 – opening the archive
This archive was opened to my colleagues and I after previously being firmly hidden from public view. This shift in approach was the result of government approval for a study into the long-term health of the human volunteers. The action was triggered by complaints from a group of people who had been tested on and who claimed their health had been damaged as a result.
The government was also keen to ward off accusations of cover ups. In 1953 Ronald Maddison, a young RAF volunteer, died in a nerve agent experiment at the site. The original inquest was held in secret and returned a verdict of misadventure. But in 2004 the government ordered a second, public, inquest.
This, along with a police investigation into the behaviour of some of the Porton Down scientists persuaded the government to fund independent research into the health effect of the experiments.
A research group from the department of public health at the University of Oxford won IS WON RIGHT WORD? sk I was part of that group. Porton participated fully and opened its doors and archive to the project. I went ahead of the research team to deal with the practicalities of gaining access. My first task was to set up an office. So Dawn led me onwards to the building that had been put aside for our use.
We passed into the inner, more secure, area. This part of Porton Down was where the main scientific work was carried out. This inner secure area was surrounded by a high chain link fence and there was one principal entry point, next to a guard room.
Inspecting our passes was another armed MoD police officer. Alerted by my red pass he was all for barring my way until Dawn stepped in. Now vouched for, we were waved through and passed onwards to the building that would become my home for the best part of three years – hut 42.
‘People had neat handwriting then’
Hut 42 was a nondescript redbrick, single-story building, which sits next to the main library and information centre and from the outside could be mistaken for a school boiler room. In it were five desks and several metal filing cabinets closed with combination locks.
Our purpose there was to study the historical archive, including the handwritten books of experiment data. We then transferred that material into a database for later analysis. This process took four people two years of hard work, but we were lucky.
Porton Down’s record keeping was excellent. Early on I had worried that handwritten records would be hard to decipher and had asked a Porton Down librarian whether they would be legible. “Definitely”, was the reply. “People had neat handwriting then. It’s the records from the 1970s you’ll have to watch. They’re dreadfully scrappy,” he said.
And so it was proved. The records of tests from an era before computers, carried out with substances such as mustard gas, were routinely neatly and clearly documented.
Porton Down experiment book, showing drop tests to the arms during one of the first nerve agent tests.
A picture of a page in one of the experiment books on which is recorded the first nerve agent test for Tabun on April 10, 1945. Thomas Keegan
I met Porton Down’s resident medical doctor in the archive to start discussing the nature of the experiments. Simon (not his real name) was in his mid-thirties with boyish curly hair and an anorak. “You’ll find everything you’ll need in here, in these cupboards,” he said. “First, I’ll show you how to open the cupboard. It’s like this”, he said. “A five number combination. Five times anticlockwise to reach the first number, four times clockwise for the second, three times anticlockwise for the third and so on.”
There was a pause while he demonstrated. “Sometimes they can be a bit sticky”, he said after the first attempt. He got the cupboard open on the second try.
The archive was a mixture of handwritten experimental and administrative records. The administrative records were essentially lists of attendees with dates and personal characteristics such as age. The experimental records reported the results of the tests with people in a variety of ways. Some were in the form of descriptive text, others used pictograms to record the site visually, for example where a drop of mustard gas was placed on the skin. Many contained tables of data, all hand drawn and as legible as if they had been printed. Our cupboards contained around 140 such books spanning a period from the start of the second world war to the end of the 1980s.
The story the records told was a fascinating one.
In the 50 years following the outbreak of the second world war, Porton Down encouraged over 20,000 men, nearly all members of the UK armed forces, to take part in experiments at the site.
These men (the regular armed forces had yet to admit women) took part in a programme of tests that ran from experiments using liquid mustard “gas” dropped onto bare skin to inhalation of nerve agents. There were also tests with antidotes and other gasses and liquids too.
Chemical experiments
The records show that between 1939 and 1989, over 400 different substances were tested at Porton. Mustard gas, sarin, and nitrogen mustard were frequently tested. These chemicals are known as “vesicants” for their ability to cause fluid filled blisters (or vesicles) on the skin or any other site of contact. First world war soldiers were familiar with the horrors of this gas, which was first used by Germany at the Battle of Ypres in 1915. John Singer Sergeant’s powerful painting Gassed expressed the effect of mustard gas on soldiers exposed in the trenches.
Other major chemical tests were riot control agents, such as CS and CR, these being the only chemicals tested that have been used by UK forces in peacetime, their purpose being crowd control.
Mostly, we were kept far away from anything other than paper records. As Britain had given up its chemical arsenal and any offensive capability in the 1950s, there was, as Simon had explained, no stores of chemical agents at Porton Down, except of course, small amounts of those that were needed to test human defences. By a circuitous route however, I came nearer to some than I was expecting.
‘Would you like a sniff?’
Hut 42, was not, it turned out, wholly for our use. While some Porton staff shared access to the archive and popped in now and then to examine records and take photocopies, the building had one other permanent resident – Porton Down’s in-house historian Gradon Carter. Carter was in his late 70s and had worked at Porton Down as an archivist for more than 20 years. He prided himself on knowing more than anyone alive about the history and administration of the institution.
He wore tweed and had the air of a world weary Latin master, but rather than the accoutrements of his trade being Latin textbooks, his were the paraphernalia of chemical warfare. Around his desk were examples of gas masks from various periods of history, and on the wall, posters inviting people to “always carry your gas mask”.
One of his exhibits was a box, about the size of a packet of breakfast cereal, which contained glass phials, each carefully labelled with the contents. These included mustard gas, lewsite and phosgene.
The box was from the 1940s. It was a training tool to help troops recognise different gasses on the battlefield. “Would you like a sniff of mustard?”, he offered. It so happened I did. Nearly 60 years after it was first bottled, I can report that Carter’s mustard gas had very little smell, but I was reluctant to get close to test any of its other properties. He re-corked it. “Some lewisite?” he suggested.
Lewisite was produced in 1918 for use in the first world war but its production was too late for it to be used. Another vesicant, it causes blistering of the skin and mucous membranes (eyes, nose, throat) on contact.
I declined Carter’s kind offer.
Other chemicals appeared in the records less frequently. There were the lovely vomiting agents, which are designed to winkle their way under your gas mask to make you sick, which will make you take off your gas mask making you vulnerable to the next wave of attack by, for example, nerve agents.
These agents were relatively standard members of a chemical arsenal. In an effort to expand its horizons, Porton Down opened its collective mind in the early 1960s to the usefulness of psychedelics in warfare and tested LSD for its potential as a disruptor of enemy military discipline.
The tests showed that troops became unable to put up much of a fight, but ultimately the chemicals were rejected as means of mass disruption. You can see a video of a test at Porton Down with LSD below.
In the video, a troop of Royal Marines can be seen taking part in an exercise during which they are given LSD. Not long afterwards the men become barely capable of military action and seem to find almost everything funny. One man seems not to know which end of a bazooka to point at the enemy.
The most commonly tested substances at Porton, according to our data, were mustard gas, lewisite and pyridostigmine (more of which later) with thousands of tests undertaken. Less frequently tested were a basket of chemicals including sodium amytal (a barbiturate) and more strangely perhaps, 49 tests with pastinacea sativa – the irritant wild parsnip.
Not all men who took part in tests did so with chemical agents. Many visited Porton Down and were “tested” with substances that were not intended to be harmful but which must have been providing useful information of some kind. Some people were tested with “lubricating oil” (498 people) and “ethanol” (204 people). Many tests were with protective equipment such as materials for protective suits and with respirators.
Nerve agent tests
Around 3,000 people were tested with nerve agents. The number of nerve agents tested was not extensive, with six principal agents recorded. These were tabun, (known as GA), soman (GD), sarin (GB), cyclo sarin (GF), and methylphosphonothioic acid (VX).
The period of nerve agent research ran from the early postwar period to the late 1980s, and coincided with the cold war, when military tension between the Nato countries and the USSR was high.
The archive was rich in information on these tests. The records included detail of the time and place of each test along with details of who took part, noting both staff and volunteer participants. Records on the early tests are especially revealing.
Chambers like this were used to carry out tests on nerve agents. Thomas Keegan
For example, in 1945 nerve agents were not yet known to Porton Down scientists. They had come close to discovering nerve agents when they had worked on PF-3, a chemical of the same organophosphate type as the nerve agents, but they had not thought it sufficiently toxic.
However, these agents were well known to German scientists, and to the German military who weaponised them during the second world war. Despite fears to the contrary, gas was not used in the fighting, though Germany had clearly prepared for chemical warfare.
Nazi agents and gin and tonic
Advancing US forces moving through Germany came across stockpiles of artillery shells in a railway marshalling yard near Osnabrück that contained suspicious liquids. The markings on the shells – a white ring on one type and green and yellow rings on the other – were new to the Americans. The shells were sent to the US and Porton Down for investigation.
After initial analysis, Porton scientists found that the shells with the white ring contained tear gas. The other contained an unknown substance (later it would be named tabun).
Tabun is one of the extremely toxic organophosphate nerve agents. It has a fruity odour reminiscent of bitter almonds. Exposure can cause death in minutes. Between 1 and 10 mL of tabun on the skin can be fatal.
On April 10 1945, after some laboratory tests, the scientists decided to test the new chemical on people. In fact, as Carter pointed out to me, disaster could have struck immediately as the first nerve agent to arrive at Porton for testing was transported to the lab in a test tube stoppered only with cotton wool.
Thinking this was a new variety of mustard gas, they placed drops on the participants’ skin. The scientists also placed drops in the eyes of some rabbits. The records show that before any serious effect to the humans could be noted one of the rabbits died, giving the scientists running the tests a fright.
The chemical was quickly wiped off the men’s arms and the test ended there. According to a brief memoir supplied by Carter, Dr Ainsworth (who was involved in the tests) said that Captain Fairly (the Porton scientist being tested on) had been shaken by the experience but recovered “after a stiff gin and tonic in his office”.
This sporting attitude to self-testing was not uncommon among scientists, however. Dr Ainsworth later tested a method for reducing the effect of a splash of nerve agent on the skin which involved a tourniquet and opening a vein – something he thought worked well.
But he was used to the pioneering methods of the day. “Taste this,” the pharmacologist John (later Sir John) Gaddum had ordered on one previous occasion. Dr Ainsworth sipped the liquid offered and reported that it tasted a little like gin. “That’s strange”, Professor Gaddum said. “I can’t taste anything. It’s diluted lewisite and the rats simply won’t drink it.”
Back at the wartime testing lab they were keen to find out more about what was now understood to be a new type of chemical agent developed by German scientists and weaponsied by their armed forces. The following week, ten people were exposed in a chamber, at the higher concentration of 1 in 5 million. In the pioneering spirit not uncommon at Porton, four of the subjects: Commandant Notley, Major Sadd, Mr Wheeler and Major Curten were Porton staff. Major Curten reported having a tightness of chest, and a slight contraction of the pupils, unlike the commandant who had no reaction but thought the gas smelled of boiled sweets.
An undated photograph of the southern end of the Porton Down campus showing the bus stop outside. The grey building is thought to be one of the exposure chambers. Thomas Keegan
Later that morning the scientists had another go, this time at a higher concentration, 1 in 1 million. The symptoms were now more noticeable, with more than one person vomiting and others needing treatment the following day for the persistent symptoms of headaches and eye pain.
Given what we have since learned about tabun, it seems at the very least cavalier of the scientists to conduct these tests on themselves and others. They were were lucky not to have been seriously injured or even killed, but those were the risks they seemed willing to take.
Fatal consequences
The last entries in the archive for nerve agent tests were for 1989 so newer compounds such as novichok, used in an attempted assassination in nearby Salisbury, were not included. One later nerve agent tested in the 1960s was VX, then a scarily potent new nerve agent.
According to the Centers for Disease Control in the US, VX is one of the most toxic of the known chemical warfare agents. It is tasteless and odourless and exposure can cause death in minutes. As little as one drop of VX on the skin can be fatal.
It was not developed into a weapon by the UK, as by then it had abandoned an offensive capability, but tests were carried out on a relatively small number of volunteers. I mentioned VX to Carter. He recalled that the first sample of VX was first discovered, accidentally, at an ICI chemical factory in the UK and sent to Porton in the regular post. Luckily, nobody was exposed.
In one notorious episode however, the tests of nerve agents on humans did not go as expected.
As I referred to earlier, in 1953, during an early nerve agent experiment, the young airman, Ronald Maddison died. Testing was paused at Porton after an inquiry by the eminent Cambridge academic Lord Adrian and limits on exposures were set after resumption in 1954. A second inquest into the death returned a verdict of unlawful killing in 2004.
One of the founders of the Porton Down Veterans Group, Ken Earl was in the same experiment. He remembered vividly being in the same chamber as Maddison, and while not affected seriously at the time, felt his health issues later in life were directly related to the test. In an interview with the BBC, he attributed the many health problems he suffered through his life, including skin conditions, depression and a heart irregularity, to his experience at Porton Down.
Our research could not establish a direct link to the kind of ill health Earl suffered. But our data on the short-term effects did show a good deal about the immediate aftermath of a nerve agent exposure, similar to the type Earl experienced.
The physiological effect of exposure to nerve agents varies greatly between individuals as our previous research has shown. The strength of symptoms varies too. Five of the six participants in the same test as Maddison did not report adverse effects other than feeling a bit cold.
However, tests before this had shown that certain effects were consistently seen with nerve agent exposures. In July 1951 six people participated in a test with soman. The lab book notes:
5/5 experienced pain in eyes, blinker effect and blurred vision 30 minutes after exposure (these symptoms continued for 24 hours). 1 participant vomited 4 hours after exposure. 2 participants vomited 24 hours after exposure. Eye pain and vision improved after 48 hours but not normal – return to normal after 5 days. 4/5 given multiple doses of atropine.
While these effects must have been unpleasant, it is also shown that participants in nerve agent tests had between one and two “exposures”. Those in tests with other chemicals such as mustard gas may have had many.
To further regulate exposures, strict limits on the amount of nerve agent allowed in tests were imposed after Maddison died. The levels of exposure typically experienced by servicemen induced: pinpoint pupils (miosis), headaches, a tightness in the chest and vomiting. These symptoms recur many times in the records, as does documentation of the drugs used to treat them, typically atropine and pralidoxime.
A new era
Despite the range of agents which have been developed, chemical weapons have rarely been used by states in conflict, perhaps held back by adherence to the Chemical Weapons Convention or by their difficulty of use.
Despite this they were used by Iraq (not then bound by the CWC) in the Iran-Iraq war (1980-88), who used mustard gas and tabun against Iranian troops. They have also been used by states against civilians – for example by Iraq against its Kurdish population and more than once by Syria against its civilian population between 2014 and 2020.
In 2017, North Korean agents used VX to assassinate Kim Jong-nam, North Korean leader Kim Jong-un’s half-brother in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. And more recently the Russian opposition leader Alexei Navalny was poisoned with a nerve agent. He later recovered only to die in a Russian prison in early 2024.
These are not just remote threats. As I previously noted, a particularly high-profile example of a state using a chemical weapon to kill someone took place in the UK in 2018 when it is alleged that the Russian state tried to kill an ex-KGB spy using small quantities of the then new and especially toxic nerve agent Novichok.
Sergei Skripal, the intended victim, and his daughter Yulia survived the attack.
A public inquiry heard how the Skripals were found slumped in a park in Salisbury. While the presence of nerve agents was not at first suspected, the emergency services noted how the Skripals suffered from a range of symptoms including pinprick pupils, muscle spasms and vomiting. For those experienced with nerve agents these symptoms are typical.
But these symptoms were not known to Nick Bailey, a detective sergeant who had been assigned to check over a house in Salisbury, home to the two people that had recently been found collapsed. This should have been routine but the first indication to DS Bailey that something was amiss was when he looked in the mirror.
His pupils, normally wide open at this time of night, had shrunk into pinpricks. He was also beginning to feel very strange. But it was when Bailey’s vision fractured and he vomited that he knew something was seriously wrong.
It would later become clear that the agents sent to kill Skripal had sprayed the liquid nerve agent onto the door handle of the Skripal house. Sergei and his daughter both used the handle and were poisoned. So was Bailey, who had closed the door and locked it after his checks on the house later that evening.
Four months later, the boyfriend of Dawn Sturgess found a discarded perfume bottle in nearby Amesbury, picked it up and then later gave it to her as a present. Neither could have imagined it had been used to bring Novichok to Salisbury and left behind by the attackers. Sturgess died after spraying the contents onto her skin. Her boyfriend survived.
It was in partnership with experts at Porton Down that the local health services were able to treat the victims. According to the inquiry, a key challenge was for the hospital to work out what had poisoned the Skripals so they could treat them effectively. Porton Down worked nonstop to determine what type of nerve agent had been used. Once the cause was known the hospital was able to save the Skripals’ lives.
That Porton Down is situated just a few miles from Salisbury where the Novichok attack took place was probably useful to those treating victims. The Russian state however, used this proximity to try to muddy the waters of accountability for the poisoning, but there seems little doubt that blame for the nerve agent poisoning lies with Russia.
Despite the efforts of those agents, five out six people poisoned with Novichok survived, not unscathed perhaps, but alive. That they did so is in some way the result of the expertise and knowledge gained over years of nerve agent research at Porton Down.
It seems clear that the more information about the effects of nerve agent exposure that are known outside specialist research circles the better. Though nerve agent attack is extremely rare the events in Salisbury and Amesbury have shown they are not impossible.
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The research study that took Thomas Keegan to Porton Down was led by the University of Oxford and funded by the Medical Research Council.
Browse through Donald Trump’s ghostwritten memoir, The Art of the Deal, and you’ll come across an aphorism which will go some way to explaining the US president’s approach to negotiating. Having established that he would do nearly anything within legal bounds to win, Trump adds that: “Sometimes, part of making a deal is denigrating your competition.”
It’s an idea which makes a lot of sense when you consider Trump’s record. We saw it time and again on the campaign trail, as he sought to seal the deal with the US public by repeatedly denigrating first Joe Biden and then Kamala Harris. Which begs the question, in seeking to make a deal to end the war in Ukraine, exactly who he sees as the competition he needs to denigrate: Vladimir Putin or Volodymyr Zelensky?
Trump has certainly gone out of his way to excoriate the Ukrainian president over the past day or two, both in public and on his TruthSocial platform. He has variously blamed Zelensky for starting the war, called him a “dictator without elections” and a “modestly successful comedian … very low in Ukrainian polls” who “has done a terrible job, his country is shattered, and MILLIONS have unnecessarily died”.
Putin, meanwhile, takes a rather different view of how to seal a deal with the US president. Far from denigrating Trump, he has set out to charm the flattery-loving president with a view to driving a wedge between the US and Europe, claiming that EU leaders had “insulted” Trump during his election campaign and insisting that “they are themselves at fault for what is happening”.
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The Russian president will be well pleased with the events of the past week or so. After three years of increasing isolation under the Biden presidency, he’s now back at the top table with the US president – two powerful men discussing the future of Europe.
For the man who, in 2005, complained that the collapse of the Soviet Union had been “the greatest geopolitical catastrophe” of the 20th century, to be back deciding the fate of nations is a dream come true, writes James Rodgers of City St George’s, University of London.
Rodgers, a former BBC Moscow correspondent, observes that Putin has fulfilled this mission having “conceded not an inch of occupied Ukrainian territory to get there. Nor has he even undertaken to give back any of what Russian forces have seized since the full-scale invasion of Ukraine three years ago.”
Not only that, but Putin also appears to have enlisted US support for one of the key objectives that encouraged him to invade Ukraine in the first place: preventing Ukraine from joining Nato. That much was clear from the US defense secretary Pete Hegseth’s speech to European defence officials last week. The views of Washington’s European allies (and of the Biden administration) – that Ukraine’s membership of Nato is a matter for the alliance members to decide with Ukraine as a sovereign state in control of its own foreign policy – don’t appear to matter to Trump and his team.
Meanwhile, Trump’s policy volte-face over Ukraine and, more broadly, European security in general has driven a dangerous wedge between the US and its allies in Europe. France’s president, Emmanuel Macron, responded by convening a meeting on Monday of the leaders of what the French foreign minister, Jean-Noël Barrot, described as “the main European countries”. This turned out to include Germany, the UK, Italy, Poland, Spain, the Netherlands and Denmark, as well as the Nato secretary-general and the presidents of the European Council and European Commission.
Passing over the question of how the leaders of the Baltic states felt about this, given they all share a border with Russia (as does Finland) and presumably are well aware of the vulnerability of their position, the fact is Europe is deeply divided over its response to the situation.
As Stefan Wolff observes, the Weimar+ group of countries that met in Paris only represent one shade of opinion within the EU. Meanwhile, Hungary’s prime minister, Viktor Orbán, is openly scathing about European efforts to support Ukraine, posting on X: “While President @realDonaldTrump and President Putin negotiate on peace, EU officials issue worthless statements.”
Wolff, an expert in international security at the University of Birmingham, notes that disrupting European unity is a stated aim of the Project 2025 initiative which has guided, if not Trump himself, many of his close advisers. The past week, taking into account both Hegseth’s meeting with European defence ministers and the subsequent appearance by the US vice-president, J.D. Vance, at the Munich Security Conference, has gone a fair way down the path towards achieving that disruption.
At the same time, Vance’s lecture to the conference – during which he was heavily critical of Europe as “the enemy within” which was undermining democracy and threatening free speech – will have united most of those present in anger and dismay at his remarks.
Trump has declared that Zelensky is a “dictator” because he cancelled last year’s election in Ukraine. In fact, Ukraine’s constitution provides that elections are prohibited during periods of martial law. And martial law has been in force since the day of the invasion on February 24 2022.
Lena Surzhko Harned, a professor of political science at Penn State University, writes that the delegitimisation of Zelensky is a tactic Putin has been striving for from the very start. The Kremlin has pushed the narrative that there is no legitimate authority with which to negotiate a peace deal, and that Zelensky’s government is “illegitimate”.
“What Putin needs for this plan to work is a willing partner to help get the message out that Zelensky and the current Ukraine government are not legitimate representatives of their country,” writes Harned. “And into this gap the new US administration appears to have stepped.”
Despite Zelensky still enjoying relatively strong support in recent opinion polls, an election campaign in the middle of this conflict would be a needlessly divisive exercise. And that’s before you consider the potential for Russian interference, which would be seriously debilitating for a country fighting for its survival.
Putin knows all this – and he also knows by framing the issue in a way that suggests Ukraine is dragging its feet over peace, he will enjoy a propaganda coup. And that’s what he is doing, with the apparent support of the US president.
Another way Putin hopes to discredit the Ukrainian leadership is by deliberately excluding it from the talks – at least for the present. Zelensky has said, with the support of his European allies, that there can be no deal without Ukrainian participation.
It’s easy to see why Zelensky and his allies are so adamant that they should be involved, writes Matt Fitzpatrick, a professor of international history at Flinders University. History is littered with examples of large powers getting together to decide the fate of smaller nations that have no agency in the division.
Three such shameful debacles determined the history of much of the 20th century – and not in a good way. The Sykes-Picot agreement divided the Middle East between British and French spheres of influence, and sowed the seed for discord which continues to this day. The Munich conference of 1938, at which the fate of Czechoslovakia was decided without any Czech input, showed Adolf Hitler that naked aggression really does pay. And having failed to learn from either of these, in 1945 the Big Three (Russia, the US and Britain) got together at Yalta to carve up Germany, thereby setting the scene for the cold war.
One of Trump’s assertions this week has been that Zelensky had his chance to strike a deal and avoid all the bloodshed and much of the territorial loss suffered by Ukraine in the three years of war. Reacting to questions about why Zelensky or any Ukrainian diplomats hadn’t been involved in the talks, he scoffed: “Today I heard: ‘Oh, well, we weren’t invited.’ Well, you’ve been there for three years … You should have never started it. You could have made a deal.”
Stephen Hall, who specialises in Russian and post-Soviet politics at the University of Bath, recalls the early talks in the spring of 2022. He says that the idea – also floated in the press by several commentators – that Ukraine should have concluded a peace deal in March or April of 2022 after talks in Istanbul is absurd.
While there was momentum for peace, particularly on Kyiv’s part, the two sides were a long way apart on issues such as the size of Ukraine’s military and the fate of territories such as Crimea. “Had Ukraine done a deal based on the Istanbul communique, it would have essentially led to the country becoming a virtual province of Russia – led by a pro-Russian government and banned from seeking alliances with western countries,” Hall writes.
And in any case, back then there was scant support among Ukraine’s allies in Europe and the Biden White House for appeasing Putin by offering him concessions in return for aggression. But that’s now history. Trump and his team appear to have already granted the Russian president some of his dearest wishes before the negotiations proper have even started.
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