Hampshire College’s demise is yet another blow to creative, outside-the-box options in higher education

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Austin Sarat, William Nelson Cromwell Professor of Jurisprudence and Political Science, Amherst College

Hampshire College’s campus entrance on April 16, 2026, a few days after the school announced it is closing. Jessica Rinaldi/The Boston Globe via Getty Images

Hampshire College, a private college located in Amherst, Massachusetts, announced on April 14, 2026, that it was joining the list of small, experimental liberal arts colleges that have closed their doors over the past few years.

Hampshire will cease operations in December 2026 because of “declining enrollment, the weight of long-standing debt, and stalled progress on land development,” Hampshire board chair Jose Fuentes said in a statement. Hampshire currently enrolls 625 students, about half the number who attended in the early 2000s.

Recently admitted Hampshire students will receive a refund on their deposit. Hampshire’s current students completing their final capstone project can still graduate from the school. Other enrolled students can transfer to another school in Massachusetts that is part of the Five College Consortium. Amherst College, where I teach law, is part of this consortium. This arrangement allows students from participating colleges to take classes on different campuses.

As someone who has taught many Hampshire students, I can attest that the college delivered an education that lived up to its motto, “Non Satis Scire,” meaning “To Know Is Not Enough.”

I have also written about the financial dilemmas liberal arts colleges are facing, as enrollment drops, finances are strained and they are pressured to adopt vocational programs.

Hampshire’s demise is another sign of the consolidation occurring in higher education, in which wealthy schools and those that deliver a traditional and often vocationally driven curriculum have an advantage. Meanwhile, dozens of small colleges with small endowments, like Hampshire, cannot keep up.

Two people are seen walking down a cleared path towards a large building, with snow all around them.
Pedestrians walk the campus of Hampshire College in Amherst, Mass., in January 2019.
Jonathan Wiggs/The Boston Globe via Getty Images

A growing list of shuttered liberal arts schools

Founded in 1965, Hampshire billed itself as a school that “scrapped generic models of learning” and offered a student-driven curriculum. It does not have traditional core course requirements and encourages students to undertake self-directed projects.

Hampshire is the latest experimental New England college to find its approach was not sustainable.

Three Vermont colleges – Green Mountain College, Marlboro College and Goddard College – closed in 2019, 2020 and 2024, respectively.

These schools were hardly household names in the higher education world, but each was prominent among aficionados of experimental education.

These colleges emphasized students undertaking independent studies, did not have standard academic departments and de-emphasized faculty research. They attracted quirky, passionate students, many of whom did not thrive in traditional high school settings.

The dream of experimental education

The origins of experimental education in colleges and universities can be traced to the turn of the 20th century and the American philosopher John Dewey. While Dewey focused on elementary and secondary education, he also wrote a book in 1899 called “The School and Society: Being Three Lectures,” which became a handbook for schools like Hampshire College.

Dewey “insisted that the old model of schooling … was antiquated,” explained Peter Gibbon, an education scholar at Boston University.

Dewey believed that “students should be active, not passive,” wrote Gibbon. “Interest, not fear, should be used to motivate them. They should cooperate, not compete.”

Those principles inspired the first stirrings of experimental education in the United States.

In 1917, Deep Springs College, a college focused on student self-government and manual labor, opened on a California cattle ranch. There are 24 to 30 undergraduate students at a time at this two-year school. Students are responsible for helping to run the school, including hiring faculty and admitting new students.

In 1921, Antioch College, a private college in Ohio that had opened 70 years earlier, reorganized itself to emphasize learning by doing. It became the first liberal arts college in the U.S. to create a co-op program, which combined in-class instruction with learning through employment outside the college.

Dewey’s influence also inspired Alexander Meiklejohn, who, after a tumultuous tenure as president of Amherst College in the early 1900s, directed the Experimental College at the University of Wisconsin from 1927 to 1932. Students at this independent college, operating within the broader University of Wisconsin, did not receive conventional grades. They also studied in six-week sessions, rather than traditional semesters that last a few months.

Meiklejohn wrote that this school had “one aim and that aim is intelligence.”

Some University of Wisconsin faculty, though, thought Meiklejohn’s approach was not rigorous. In a preview of what was to come a century later, the Experimental College closed five years after its inception.

Sarah Lawrence, a New York liberal arts college that opened in 1926, and Bennington College, a small college that opened in Vermont in 1932, were soon added to the list of the early adopters of experimental education.

Two men wearing cowboy hats crouch near a creek and look at it, with mountains and large expanse of grass behind them.
Two administrators of Deep Springs College search for a black toad on the remote college campus in Deep Springs Valley, Calif., in April 2021.
Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times via Getty Image

Experimental colleges come into their own

Throughout the late 1950s and ’60s, dozens of other experimental colleges were founded, including Evergreen State College in Washington state.

These schools were not developed to transform higher education, argues education scholar Reid Pitney Higginson. They were designed to add variety to the menu of existing schools.

In a sense, experimental colleges captured the spirit of the 1960s. They wanted to free their students from the traditional educational paths and empower them to have a say in how their colleges operate. That sometimes caused difficulty, when students pushed for greater control over their schools.

Yet even in their halcyon days, experimental colleges never became as financially well off nor as prestigious as their mainstream competitors. At its founding, Hampshire seemed to have a distinct advantage: its membership in the Five College Consortium, connecting it with Amherst, Smith College, Mount Holyoke College and the University of Massachusetts.

An exception to the rule

But even that was not enough to save Hampshire. One challenge for it and other higher education institutions is that a rising number of students are questioning the value of a college degree, especially if it does not result in skills or a certification they can quickly use as graduates to make a living.

Tuition and housing for students attending Hampshire in the 2025-26 school year costs more than US$72,000.

Hampshire’s closing signals the full flowering of a higher education era that favors well-resourced schools, which benefit from federal funding and large private donations. Those schools often deliver a more conventional, safer educational product and can attract students from wealthy families.

Because Hampshire remained steadfastly unconventional, its failure may encourage schools to double down on offerings they know will attract a job-anxious generation of students.

What documentary filmmaker and Hampshire graduate Ken Burns told The New York Times about his alma mater’s closing helps explain why it and other experimental colleges could not survive as the exception to the rule in today’s higher education landscape.

“(Hampshire) was dedicated to a transformational education, in an era when higher education has been hijacked by the transactional,” Burns said. “A college education is, to some, like a Louis Vuitton handbag. And that’s not Hampshire.”

The Conversation

Austin Sarat 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.

ref. Hampshire College’s demise is yet another blow to creative, outside-the-box options in higher education – https://theconversation.com/hampshire-colleges-demise-is-yet-another-blow-to-creative-outside-the-box-options-in-higher-education-280791

The Blue Trail is a dystopian ‘coming-of-old-age’ gem

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Danielle Reid, Postgraduate Researcher, Women, Ageing, and Machine Learning on Screen, University of Leeds

The Blue Trail offers a bold and refreshing vision of ageing – one driven by agency, quiet defiance and profound transformation. Set against the awe-inspiring landscapes of north-west Brazil, the film weaves together dystopian sci-fi with a striking “coming-of-old-age” journey, redefining what it means to grow older.

The film follows 77-year-old Tereza (Denise Weinberg). She lives in a chilling near-future where a totalitarian regime forcibly removes anyone over 75, relocating them to remote colonies without consultation or consent.

Faced with this looming threat of unwanted exclusion and invisibility, Tereza refuses to comply. Instead, she embarks on a surreal journey along the Amazon river to chase one final dream before she is “put out to pasture”.

On her picturesque journey through the Amazon, Tereza meets Cadu (Rodrigo Santoro), an enigmatic boat navigator with shady origins, and Ludemir (Adanilo), a fickle pilot with a clouded sense of judgment. Most importantly, however, she meets Roberta (Miriam Socarras), a secretly atheist preacher who sells Bibles. Roberta is older than Tereza, and brings an exciting and alluring sense of hope and freedom to her otherwise oppressive reality.

The trailer for The Blue Trail.

The two women connect in a powerfully intimate way, sharing new experiences and arriving at unexpected revelations. Together, they embody an almost Thelma and Louise-like bond. The Blue Trail is a thoroughly original story, in which two older women are capable of newness, independence and transformation against all odds.

Interrogating ageism

Amid its dystopian backdrop, the film reveals moments of astonishing beauty through its fantastical visual language – drifting between surreal, dreamlike images of the Amazon’s waterways, northern Brazilian river towns and striking urban jungles.

The collision of water and land, as well as jungle and urban environments, serve as powerful visual expressions of the story’s underlying tensions. Tereza’s character experiences her greatest sense of escape and liberation when she is at one with nature.

The film also lingers on stunning close-ups of animals, their presence quietly echoing Tereza’s journey in unexpected ways. Most notably, the fictional blue drool snail serves as a driving force in the plot. Often dismissed as slow and unassuming, the snail is reimagined in director Gabriel Mascaro’s world as a creature capable of profound and unexpected things.

At its core, the film serves as a critique of ageist assumptions, imagining an Orwellian future where today’s stereotypes calcify into authoritarian policy. In this world, the supposed logic of care mutates into control, unsettlingly blurring the line between protection and punishment.

We see Tereza subjected to a series of legal and social infantilisations. She is ordered to rest, despite having no desire or need to do so. She must obtain her daughter’s consent for everyday tasks like booking travel or buying lunch. She is forced to wear adult nappies despite being fully continent. These humiliations reveal the harm in treating old age as a singular, generalised state.

In this way, the film powerfully exemplifies the influential claim made by anti-ageist activist Margaret Gullette that we are “aged by culture”. It exposes how the acceptance of reductionist attitudes towards ageing can materialise as harmful, systemic ageist practices.

Despite these harsh realities, Mascaro constructs a character who commands our admiration rather than our pity. This creative choice feels particularly significant in a cultural landscape where older people are too often framed as weak, dependent, or diminished in capacity.

Tereza is presented as both physically and mentally capable – strong-willed, perceptive, and open to the possibility of a different future. Her age never defines the limits of her identity.

Instead, her quick wit becomes a subtle-yet-entertaining form of resistance, particularly when she turns ageist assumptions about incontinence back on those who impose them, gaining the upper hand in the process. These moments also offer brief light-hearted relief within the film’s broader narrative.

A final striking element of Mascaro’s film is his use of lingering close-ups on Tereza’s face. These moments showcase an intimacy rarely afforded to ageing women’s bodies on the big screen.

Through both characterisation and visual style, The Blue Trail quietly but powerfully resists the notion of ageing as taboo, and challenges the cultural tendency to overlook or erase older people altogether.

The Conversation

Danielle Reid receives funding from The Leverhulme Trust as part of the Women, Ageing and Machine Learning on Screen project.

ref. The Blue Trail is a dystopian ‘coming-of-old-age’ gem – https://theconversation.com/the-blue-trail-is-a-dystopian-coming-of-old-age-gem-280947

Robots just captured a Russian position in Ukraine – but don’t worry about real-life Terminators just yet

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Jacob Parakilas, Research Leader, Defence, Security, and Justice Group, RAND Europe

Ukraine’s president Volodymyr Zelensky recently announced that ground robots (also known as unmanned ground vehicles) had captured a Russian position. Zelenskyy said it was the first time in the Ukraine war that an enemy position had been taken exclusively by robots.

Ukraine’s increasing use of drones in its defence has received a great deal of attention as Russia’s invasion has dragged on. While most of this has focused on aerial and maritime drones, the army’s use of ground robotics has been a quieter story – but one with growing significance.

Military ground robotics are rapidly transforming battlefield tasks. However, for the foreseeable future, their greatest impact will be in supporting roles rather than directly replacing infantry soldiers. So, while this capture of the enemy position by robots is a milestone moment, it shouldn’t be over-interpreted.

When it comes to ground robots taking on infantry combat, there are a set of serious obstacles. The first is, quite literally, obstacles. Anyone who has watched increasingly sophisticated robotics demonstrations online will have seen machines navigating complex and difficult terrain.

However, operating in a controlled environment in front of a camera is a world away from crossing broken ground under fire. Most ground robots continue to rely either on wheels or tracks for a variety of very good reasons: mechanical simplicity, availability of spare parts, and cost.

But they have sharp limits on the types of terrain they can traverse, and not all enemy strongpoints are built at the end of paved driveways.

Even accounting for combat loads and the nature of the battlefield, human infantry can climb, jump, wade and otherwise traverse a large variety of obstacles unassisted, in ways that robots still cannot match.

Human in control

The second major obstacle is the electromagnetic environment. While the term robot is often used to describe uncrewed ground vehicles, they are mostly still remotely operated, which means the operator must maintain a constant control link with the vehicle.

This can be done via radio link. However, these links can be interrupted by enemy jamming, or by unfavourable weather or terrain.

The operator can also control the robot by a fibre-optic cable, which cannot be jammed but limits how far the robot can travel from its operator. A cable can also be severed by a blast, shrapnel or just adverse terrain.

The alternative is autonomy, and these ground robots do increasingly have some autonomous capabilities. But so far, this tends to be for specific tasks such as highlighting identified enemy positions, rather than being autonomous in the sense of driving and controlling themselves.

Autonomous driving is a massive challenge. Residents of London may have seen Waymo autonomous cabs in recent weeks, moving through the city’s streets ahead of their public rollout. But following traffic laws and (more-or-less) consistent road markings is still a huge and complex task.

Navigating a battlefield in a complex 3D environment is at least as complex, requiring a huge amount of processing power. That power can either be put aboard the robot itself, which significantly increases its cost and complexity, or done remotely and transmitted – which brings us back to the issue of control link vulnerability.

Support roles

While these are serious challenges for ground robots in an infantry role, they pose less of an issue in a range of critical support tasks. Robots have, for example, been extensively used by Ukraine for battlefield casualty evacuation, front-line resupply, combat engineering, mine laying and mine clearing.

In these instances, their smaller size, substantially lower cost, versatility and lower profile relative to traditional crewed vehicles (which makes them harder to detect) hold benefits that substantially outweigh the drawbacks. And while they are remotely operated so do not drastically reduce overall personnel requirements, if the ground robot is destroyed, its operator is not.

For Ukraine, the strategic imperative to rapidly roll out ground robots is enormous. Four years of war against a numerically larger opponent has imposed huge challenges on its ability to continue recruiting and deploying a large enough force to safeguard its sovereignty.

On a battlefield where the enemy can see and hit almost anything moving within 20 kilometres of the front line, swapping irreplaceable humans for cheap and replaceable robots is a necessary condition for staying in the fight long enough to win it.

But for the immediate future at least, robots are more likely to support that fight, rather than lead it.

The Conversation

Jacob Parakilas 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.

ref. Robots just captured a Russian position in Ukraine – but don’t worry about real-life Terminators just yet – https://theconversation.com/robots-just-captured-a-russian-position-in-ukraine-but-dont-worry-about-real-life-terminators-just-yet-280959

New advice on avoiding British cod: how to make sure your fish and chips are sustainably sourced

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Mara Fischer, PhD Candidate, School of Environment, University of Exeter

Stepanek Photography/Shutterstock

Diners may soon need to rethink a staple of the classic English fish supper. The Marine Conservation Society, an environmental charity in the UK, recently downgraded all UK cod stocks and removed them from its list of sustainable seafood.

The Marine Conservation Society’s Good Fish Guide, a tool designed to help consumers make sustainable seafood choices, now lists Atlantic cod from the Arctic, northern shelf, and British seas with the worst possible rating: “avoid”. This reflects severe declines in population status.

The guide recommends that cod lovers seek out fish from further north, from Icelandic waters, where it’s still available in quantity. But the cod served up in most fish and chip shops right now should be considered under threat and avoided, unless specified as Icelandic.

This warning echoes one of the most dramatic collapses in fisheries history, the collapse of Newfoundland cod stocks in Canadian waters in 1992. Despite mounting scientific warnings, fishing continued until stocks crashed, triggering a moratorium that put tens of thousands out of work. More than 30 years later, recovery remains incomplete. The lesson is clear: once a fishery collapses, recovery is slow and uncertain. Yet current trends suggest that we are not heeding the lessons of history.

The rise of cod

The English love affair with cod goes back a long way. Archaeological evidence shows that cod was traded as early as the Viking age, driven in part by the rise of Christianity across Europe. Dried and salted cod – a protein-rich food which could be stored for months without spoiling – offered an alternative to meat on Fridays and during Lent, fuelling the growth of the cod trade.

Even centuries ago, consumer demand may have outstripped local supply. Analysis of fish provisions from the sunken Tudor warship Mary Rose suggests some cod was sourced from distant waters, including Iceland.

dried fish hanging
Traditional drying of cod in the Lofoten Islands, Norway.
ArtBBNV/Shutterstock

This demand intensified with industrialisation. As cities expanded, so did the need for cheap protein. Enter the national dish: fish and chips. Cod was no longer salted or dried but fried. Its dominance was enabled by the introduction of steam-powered trawlers and the use of ice in the late 19th century, which allowed British fleets to fish further and more intensively.

Cod landings subsequently boomed, drawing heavily on stocks in northern Atlantic waters. Following the mid-20th century cod wars, the cod eaten in the UK was increasingly imported from locations such as Iceland, although local fisheries continued to contribute to our beloved fish supper. But poorly managed fisheries, with fishing quotas often set above scientific advice, led to declines in stocks around the UK.

Why are cod not recovering?

Today, cod populations around the UK are so depleted that the International Council for the Exploration of the Sea (ICES) has advised zero catches for some stocks for several years. Yet catch limits have consistently been set above scientific advice, for example, allowing catches of around 14,000 tonnes of North Sea cod in 2026. This is no exception as 58% of all UK fishing quotas for 2026 exceed recommendations from ICES.

man standing in boat pulling out fish from sea
Cod have been overfished.
Birgit Ryningen/Shutterstock

Even where quotas are reduced, recovery is hampered by how many fisheries operate in practice. Cod are frequently caught in mixed fisheries that primarily target other species such as haddock. However, the use of unselective and destructive gears such as bottom trawls (heavy fishing nets that get dragged along the seabed) means that cod continues to be removed from the ecosystem, even when it is not the intended target.

Climate change adds further pressure. As waters warm, cod are forced northwards or into deeper waters, disrupting ecosystems and fisheries. Warmer seas can also affect reproduction, reducing the survival of eggs and larvae, while changes in ocean currents and availability of prey make it harder for populations to recover.

Together, these factors mean that the outlook for local cod stocks is increasingly dire.




Read more:
Half the UK’s fish stocks are overfished – but the evidence shows how they can be revived


The future of cod in the UK

Despite these challenges, cod is likely to remain on the menu. But where it comes from – and how it is managed – matters. Not all cod stocks are in crisis.

Atlantic cod that is caught in Iceland’s waters by long lines and nets, for example, remain a “best choice” on the Good Fish Guide. This reflects the use of fishing gears with lower risk of damage to ocean habitats plus strong management aligned with scientific advice. Similarly, other fisheries show that recovery is possible when limits are set and followed appropriately, although climate change adds increasing uncertainty for many species. In contrast, Atlantic cod caught from stocks in the Arctic, North Sea and other seas around Britain are all labelled “avoid”, regardless of how they are caught.

This makes our roles as consumers that much more complex – and important. Asking where fish comes from and how it was caught can help drive demand towards better managed stocks. If that information is unavailable, switching to alternatives, such as hake, can reduce pressure on depleted cod populations. If you are not sure, check for the stocks and catch methods labelled green on the Good Fish Guide, or that have been awarded a blue tick from the Marine Stewardship Council.

Our long relationship with cod has shaped diets, economies and cultures. But history shows that without stronger alignment between science, policy and informed consumer choice, the future of cod in the UK may be far from guaranteed.

The Conversation

Mara Fischer receives funding from the Convex Seascape Survey.

Ruth H. Thurstan works for The University of Exeter. She receives funding from the Convex Seascape Survey and the European Research Council (ERC) under the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme (grant agreement no. 856488).

ref. New advice on avoiding British cod: how to make sure your fish and chips are sustainably sourced – https://theconversation.com/new-advice-on-avoiding-british-cod-how-to-make-sure-your-fish-and-chips-are-sustainably-sourced-280667

Lee Cronin’s The Mummy – an uninspired, unscary gore fest that demonises disability and leans into stereotypes of Egypt

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Matt Jacobsen, Senior Lecturer in Film History in the School of Society and Environment, Queen Mary University of London

Production company Blumhouse has taken a gamble by featuring director Lee Cronin in top billing in his third film’s marketing campaign. Announcing Cronin as a horror auteur, the film’s full title is Lee Cronin’s The Mummy. This is an odd move for a director with only two (admittedly strong) previous features under his belt. It is perhaps a strategy to differentiate the film from the Brendan Fraser-led adventure series or the abysmal Tom Cruise vehicle from 2017.

Lee Cronin’s The Mummy features little that ties it to the long legacy of previous films with the same title. The template for The Mummy was established by Boris Karloff’s looming Imhotep of 1932 and Christopher Lee’s Kharis of 1959, both Ancient Egyptians who return to life after being exhumed by Western archaeologists. Lee Kronin’s The Mummy is less about the plundering of Ancient Egyptian tombs and more about tapping into the elemental fears of parenthood – as Cronin explored to great effect in his previous two films.

Cronin’s first feature was the independent horror film The Hole in the Ground (2019), which was a confident and capable outing. Like several other first-time filmmakers of independent horror film in the 2010s (Mike Flanagan, Corin Hardy, Rose Glass) Cronin was rapidly courted by Hollywood. He was then handed the reins of the most recent instalment of Sam Raimi’s well-loved Evil Dead series. Cronin wrote and directed the savvy, elementally terrifying Evil Dead Rise (2023), which transported that franchise from its familiar cabin-in-the-woods setting to an urban high rise with brilliant results. His third feature isn’t up to par with these, sadly.

In The Mummy’s harrowing opening, every parent’s worst nightmare is realised as nine-year-old Katie is snatched by a stranger who entices her with sweets at the bottom of the family’s garden in Cairo. The action cuts to eight years later and Katie is found alive having been mummified – buried in an Egyptian sarcophagus wrapped in bandages. The returned Katie is erratic, non-verbal and animalistic, needing attentive care.

In the build-up to revelations about what Katie has endured and how she has remained alive, her parents face the challenges of caring for a child with significant physical and behavioural needs. Played differently, this theme could be explored with sensitivity and insight. However, in an early scene that foreshadows the kind of excessive body horror that Cronin is heading towards in the film’s climactic scenes, the parents try to clip Katie’s overgrown toenail, resulting in the gruesome peeling off of her leg’s atrophied skin.

This harrowing scene sets the film’s tone. Cronin is far more interested in pummelling his audience with relentless gore and shallow shock tactics that seriously exploring the story’s themes.

The Mummy revisits familiar tropes from horror classics rather than searching for its own identity. Eventually, and far too conventionally, the film’s focus on the creepy possessed child owes far more to the well-worn tactics of The Exorcist(1973). Like The Exorcist’s Regan, Katie’s body contorts and she becomes vicious and foul-mouthed. Modern special effects bring to life her abject bodily fluids vividly. While Cronin drew from The Exorcist enjoyably in Evil Dead Rise, threats to the American family are rehashed less successfully here.

Horror can be a powerful way to explore themes of parental sacrifice and struggle sensitively and meaningfully. Jennifer Kent’s sublime and influential The Babadook (2014) reworked the conventions of uncanny horror to produce an empathetic and moving depiction of a grieving mother caring for a child with psychological needs. Cronin’s breakout The Hole in the Ground was reminiscent of Kent’s film for its depiction of a mother faced with her son’s increasingly erratic and disturbing behaviour. It is difficult to imagine, however, how a horror film in The Mummy’s mode of intense gore and aggressive violence could bear the weight of the topic.

Troublingly, the film derives spectacle from representing disability with unsettling horror. For instance, when Katie’s wheelchair hovers and clatters its wheels menacingly against the ground, it moves uncomfortably towards the criticism of the wider genre for using disability as shorthand for wickedness and immorality.

The characterisation is also disappointingly facile and shallow. Cronin’s script’s attempts to humanise his traumatised family, before the inevitable frenzy of violent set-pieces, fall flat. This is not helped by contrived moments and one-dimensional performances across the board.

Given the notoriety of prior horror films that present Egyptian history and culture as strange and exotic, playing into anxieties around “foreignness”, we should reasonably expect this film to work hard to avoid stereotypes and cliches. But it doesn’t.

The familiar laying on of sandstorms, hieroglyphics, beetles, scorpions and other tired signifiers of Egyptian culture do little to work against a white western gaze. The casting of Egyptian actors may have offset issues with cultural representation. But the main Egyptian actor plays a barely fleshed-out detective (May Calamawy, Marvel TV’s Moon Knight) who is investigating the mystery of Katie’s disappearance. She also adds little beyond tired police movie tropes.

Cronin’s third film continues the kind of punk rock horror aesthetic that the director is becoming known for. But, it is not a showcase for the evident talent that he displayed in his first two films. In the search for fairground-style gasp-out-loud horror moments, The Mummy becomes unhinged and unruly, descending into a formless barrage of gory body horror and careening violence.

The film is overlong at 133 minutes and outstays its welcome. Despite its length, there is surprisingly little suspense and little that is actually scary. Its sharp shocks would have been better delivered within the tighter structure usually expected from a genre film like this, or the running time could be better employed to build tension and character.

The Conversation

Matt Jacobsen 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.

ref. Lee Cronin’s The Mummy – an uninspired, unscary gore fest that demonises disability and leans into stereotypes of Egypt – https://theconversation.com/lee-cronins-the-mummy-an-uninspired-unscary-gore-fest-that-demonises-disability-and-leans-into-stereotypes-of-egypt-280957

Why the ceasefire in Lebanon is unlikely to change much on the ground

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Tarek Abou Jaoude, Lecturer in Comparative Politics, Queen’s University Belfast

Following direct talks between Lebanese and Israeli officials, a ten-day ceasefire has been agreed between the two countries. It is currently unclear whether Hezbollah, the Iran-backed group that has been fighting Israel in southern Lebanon since early March, has agreed to observe the temporary cessation of hostilities.

If it holds, the ceasefire will be welcomed by the Lebanese government. This latest conflict has brought the state to its knees. Not only is Lebanon’s government logistically and administratively stretched, having to find shelter for and relocate over a million displaced citizens, it is also in a fragile position politically.

Having taken the decision to ban Hezbollah’s military activities and restrict its role to the political sphere on March 2, the government is now attempting to establish full control over the capital of Beirut. The cessation of hostilities between Israel and Hezbollah is thus essential to avoid a complete breakdown in state authority.

The ceasefire also comes despite Israel’s seemingly mixed stance on ending its conflict with Hezbollah. Hours after the signing of an earlier ceasefire between the US and Iran, Israel launched over 100 missiles towards Lebanese territory. The attacks, which came amid confusion over whether Lebanon was covered by the deal, killed more than 300 people in what has become known as “Black Wednesday” in Lebanon.

There has been much speculation about the strategy behind this attack. Some argued the Israelis were taking advantage of the unclear situation. Others saw the attack as a deliberate tactic to derail the entire negotiation process, knowing Iran would insist on Lebanon’s inclusion in any talks. But it soon became clear that the Trump administration preferred for hostilities to, at the very least, de-escalate in Lebanon.

With the US insisting that Israel preserves “its right to take all necessary measures in self-defense, at any time, against planned, imminent or ongoing attacks”, it is unclear what kind of ceasefire will be implemented. The most likely outcome is a scenario in which Israeli attacks on Beirut end, while troops continue their skirmishes with Hezbollah in and around the southern villages.

Hezbollah has already insisted the ceasefire must not allow Israeli troops freedom of movement in the south. However, the Lebanese army has reported that there have been “several Israeli attacks” in southern Lebanon since the ceasefire took effect.

Long road ahead

With ten days to seek further agreements, there is still much left to be negotiated. An ultimate goal for the Lebanese government will be to secure full Israeli withdrawal from the territories it has captured along the border.

The Israeli military has taken full control of the first line of villages and towns along the border and is currently sitting a few kilometres inside Lebanese territory. There has been irreparable damage to buildings in the villages it has occupied, leading some to compare the destruction to that seen in Gaza.

But there is no obvious reason for Israel to withdraw. Local media has reported that Israel is insisting on a long-term security zone in Lebanon of up to 0.8km to provide protection from future Hezbollah rocket attacks. A second zone up to the Litani River – around 30km from the border – would remain under Israeli control and would be “gradually” handed back to the Lebanese armed forces.

A 2006 UN resolution demanded the withdrawal of all armed groups, except for the Lebanese army and UN peacekeepers, from this area. However, the resolution has been violated repeatedly both by Israel and Hezbollah. Israel’s defence minister, Israel Katz, has previously stated that this larger security zone is an objective for his country’s military.

There is also no real bargaining chip the Lebanese government can play. The only resistance to Israel’s presence on Lebanese soil in the current conflict is being provided by Hezbollah, which is not represented in the direct talks. And it is clear by now that Israeli officials simply do not trust the Lebanese state’s ability to control or rein in the Iran-backed party.

There are rumours that Israeli and Lebanese officials may be working on a possible peace treaty, emulating the 1978 Camp David accords. These accords allowed Egypt to reclaim the Sinai peninsula in exchange for peace with Israel. A similar treaty could make Israeli withdrawal from Lebanon possible.

But there are three factors that make a peace treaty unlikely. First, the issue of peace with Israel remains highly divisive in Lebanon. In 2022, surveys implied that roughly 17% of Lebanese people supported normalisation with Israel, a relatively high percentage among Arab countries.

After two conflicts since then, it is unclear how these numbers now break down. But recent Shia-dominated protests in Beirut show just how divided the country remains over this issue. At a protest on April 13, demonstrators called Lebanon’s Sunni prime minister, Nawaf Salam, a “Zionist” for agreeing to engage in talks.

Second, it is unclear that the Israelis themselves are looking for peace. There is considerable division among members of the Israeli cabinet on this issue. While the foreign minister, Gideon Saar, has insisted that “peace and normalisation” are desired, the more extreme right-wing minister Bezalel Smotrich has continued to call for the permanent annexation of southern Lebanon.

And third, what remains an insurmountable reality for both countries is Hezbollah itself. The party’s reason for existence is to resist Israeli occupation and it has said over the years that it would only hand over its weapons in exchange for full Israeli withdrawal and if a Lebanese state emerges that showcases an ability to repel Israeli forces on the border.

The fact that the Lebanese armed forces have not entered the current fight with Israel and have evacuated positions in the south ahead of Israeli incursions will not encourage Hezbollah or its base to trust any peace process and lay down its arms peacefully.

All of this leaves Lebanon with few realistic outcomes. What people inside the country now fear is a return to the status quo: a fragile and unobservable ceasefire, Israeli troops stationed in Lebanese territory and a state stuck in gridlock.

The Conversation

Tarek Abou Jaoude receives funding from The Leverhulme Trust.

ref. Why the ceasefire in Lebanon is unlikely to change much on the ground – https://theconversation.com/why-the-ceasefire-in-lebanon-is-unlikely-to-change-much-on-the-ground-280851

How we worked out a fossilised ‘pterosaur’ was actually a fish – new research

Source: The Conversation – UK – By David Unwin, Reader in Palaeobiology, School of Heritage and Culture, University of Leicester

Artist’s impression of a pterosaur with a fish in its mouth. Fossils of one have sometimes been mistaken for the other. Warpaint/Shutterstock

Georges Cuvier, the 19th-century French anatomist who first recognised pterodactyls as flying reptiles, wrote that “of all the beings whose ancient existence has been revealed to us, [they are] the most extraordinary”.

Now known as pterosaurs, this extraordinarily diverse, highly successful group lived alongside dinosaurs for more than 150 million years, occupying habitats around rivers, lakes, coasts and even the open ocean. While some species were quite small (no bigger than a pigeon), a few evolved into flying giants with wingspans exceeding ten metres.

The Upper Jurassic pterosaur Rhamphorhynchus
The Upper Jurassic pterosaur Rhamphorhynchus (Bürgermeister-Müller-Museum, Eichstatt Germany).
David Unwin, CC BY

Pterosaurs are unlike any other animal, living or extinct. Despite this, a surprisingly long list of fossils have been misidentified as pterosaurs – including a specimen of the earliest bird, Archaeopteryx, and an extinct aquatic reptile, Tanystropheus, which had extraordinarily long neck vertebrae like some pterosaurs.

One of the most renowned misidentifications occurred in 1939 when Ferdinand Broili, a Munich-based palaeontologist, described a new pterosaur, Belonochasma, based on what appeared to be the remains of jaws bearing hundreds of long, fine teeth.

Several decades later, Franz Mayr, founder of the Jura Museum in Eichstätt, Germany, recognised the true nature of these remains. The “teeth” were actually gill filaments. More complete fossils, including remains of the body, showed unequivocally that Belonochasma was actually a fish.

Back in the 1930s, it could be years before publications became widely known and decades before errors were corrected. The gentle pace of research meant misidentifications usually had little impact.

Contrast that with today’s digiverse. Now, most palaeontologists are aware of newly published research within days or even hours of publication – and can immediately start downloading datasets that include it.

This rapid dissemination and repurposing of data – in the case of palaeontology, relating to age, geographic location and bodily structure – mean that errors can also spread very quickly.

A highly unusual fossil

In November 2025, a team of Brazilian palaeontologists led by Rodrigo Pêgas, based in the Museum of Zoology at the University of São Paulo, described what they took to be a new pterosaur. Bakiribu waridza had been found in 110 million-year-old Early Cretaceous rock of Araripe in northeast Brazil.

This highly unusual fossil apparently comprised several small fish plus the remains of not one but two pterosaurs – each represented by what were claimed to be fragmentary remains of jaws, plus hundreds of fine teeth.

Fossil remains of the ‘pterosaur’ Bakiribu reinterpreted as a fish.
Fossil remains of the ‘pterosaur’ Bakiribu, which has been reinterpreted as a fish (scale bar 50mm).
David Unwin, CC BY

Pêgas and colleagues speculated that these specimens were contained in dinosaur vomit (known as regurgitalite) so large that it could only have been produced by a huge predator – perhaps a Spinosaurus-like theropod dinosaur. Enthusiastically promoted, the newly announced Bakiribu drew much attention, including numerous palaeoartists’ impressions and its own Wikipedia page.

However, a group of us who study pterosaurs – including David Martill and Roy Smith from the University of Portsmouth, and Sam Cooper from the Stuttgart State Museum of Natural History – soon spotted some problems.

Bakiribu (top) compared with the Upper Jurassic fish Belonochasma.
Bakiribu (top) compared with the Upper Jurassic fish Belonochasma (scale bar: 10mm).
David Unwin, CC BY

Comparing our extensive collection of high-resolution digital photographs of pterosaur fossils with published images of Bakiribu, it appeared that its “teeth” did not extend along both sides of the jaw in symmetric fashion, as with all toothed pterosaurs. They also lacked a root, which is omnipresent in pterosaur teeth. Moreover, features such as dentine and dentine tubules, typical of pterosaur teeth, appeared to be absent.

We also noticed that bone fragments associated with the supposed jaws did not match any cranial element of pterosaurs, and their coarse external texture was unlike the smooth finish typical of pterosaur bone.

So, what was Bakiribu? Martill recalled the 1939 Belonochasma episode, which prompted me to examine the original fossil during a visit to Munich earlier this year. It was immediately clear that Belonochasma and Bakiribu were remarkably similar.

Comparing Bakiribu with the fossil remains of ancient bowfins discovered in the same rocks, and taking advantage of Cooper’s expertise in fossilised fish, we were able to identify the supposed teeth of Bakiribu as gill filaments, and the associated bony elements as branchials (structures that support the gills). Like Belonochasma, the Bakiribu fossil was in fact a collapsed gill arch of a large fish, preserved alongside two smaller fish.

The bowfin Amia calva.
The bowfin Amia calva.
Zachary Randall, CC BY

A paper detailing our findings has just appeared in the Annals of the Brazilian Academy of Sciences. Pegas and colleagues, who disagree with our conclusions, were offered an opportunity to publish a response in the same issue of the journal, but did not take up this invitation.

Misidentifications matter more now

All palaeontologists – myself included – have misidentified at least one fossil during their careers. The fragmentary, incomplete nature of many fossil remains means erroneous identifications are as inevitable as death and taxes.

But in today’s world of rapid international communication, it is all the more important that they are highlighted as quickly as possible. Fortunately, the digiverse can also help do this.

Within five weeks of the first appearance of Bakiribu, our team flagged the possibility of a misidentification by posting a reinterpretation as a non-peer reviewed “preprint” article. And only five months later, our fully peer-reviewed account was published.

The speed of the digiverse means this alleged regurgitalite has rapidly been regurgitated. But doubtless many other misidentified fossils remain unsuspected, and more mistakes will be made in the future.

Once spotted, however, at least we have the tools to quickly verify such errors, in order to restrict their impact on the body palaeontologic.

The Conversation

David Unwin 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.

ref. How we worked out a fossilised ‘pterosaur’ was actually a fish – new research – https://theconversation.com/how-we-worked-out-a-fossilised-pterosaur-was-actually-a-fish-new-research-280848

Iran’s AI memes are reaching people who don’t follow the news – and winning the propaganda war

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Adam R. North, Early Career Researcher, Religions and Theology Department, University of Manchester

Screenshot of an AI-generated video produced by Iran’s Explosive Media. Explosive Media/X

A Lego-style Iranian military commander raps over a gangster beat: “Our inbox is flooded with Americans saying they don’t watch the news. They listen to our songs instead since your media is full of shit.”

This is the opening line of an AI-generated video which is part of Iran’s meme campaign – built around Lego-style animation and rap soundtracks, which have accumulated billions of views online. The line captures the strange reality of contemporary politics: news is often most effectively disseminated not through journalism but humour, memes and entertainment.

Since late February, pro-Iranian media groups – most notably, the X account Explosive Media – have flooded social media with AI-generated video content mocking Donald Trump, Benjamin Netanyahu and US foreign policy. It has been dubbed “slopaganda” – but the sophistication is striking.




Read more:
Slopaganda wars: how (and why) the US and Iran are flooding the zone with viral AI-generated noise


These videos contain disinformation and antisemitic tropes but do not look or feel like state propaganda – despite the spokesperson for Explosive Media admitting to the BBC that the Iranian government is a client. They capture the internet zeitgeist: fast, funny, visually familiar and designed for virality.

Trojan horses

The success of these memes lies in their audience strategy. They do not target people actively seeking news. Instead, they mimic the language of everyday internet culture to reach those who are not following events in the Middle East at all.

Humour is the mechanism they use to get reach. These videos function as Trojan horses, drawing viewers in with recognisable imagery, references and music – while communicating a narrative about American overreach, dysfunction and corruption.

As Emerson Brooking, a US-based expert in disinformation, notes, this kind of content reaches “politically uninvested people who otherwise wouldn’t have engaged with war-related content”.

The key insight here is not geopolitics but audiences. Conventional political communication, including press conferences, policy statements and traditional news coverage, reaches people who are already paying attention. These AI meme videos are designed to reach everyone else: the millions of people whose understanding of international conflict extends no further than what happens to appear in their social media feed.

Humour is the primary mechanism these videos have harnessed to conquer the social media algorithms. The joke is not the message – it is the delivery system. By packaging geopolitical arguments inside “diss tracks”, pop culture references and shareable clips, these videos communicate political ideas before audiences have even registered they are consuming political content.

What makes audiences receptive to ‘slopaganda’?

But this raises a deeper question. Why are people so receptive to receiving political information in this form? The answer is that they have been primed for it.

For two decades, a generation of Americans – and increasingly British and European viewers – have learned to process political news through satire. Jon Stewart’s The Daily Show became, for many younger viewers, a more trusted source of political information than the nightly news.

The likes of Stephen Colbert, John Oliver, Seth Meyers and Jimmy Kimmel also built enormous audiences by making politics funny, accessible and emotionally engaging in ways that conventional journalism often failed to do. The implicit message, repeated nightly, was that humour was not merely a gloss on political commentary. It was a more honest form.

US comedian Jon Stewart.
Late-night political satirists such as Jon Stewart blurred the distinction between news and entertainment.
DoD News/Flickr/Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA

This was largely a progressive phenomenon. The targets were politicians and large institutions, both government and private sector – and the satirists positioned themselves as holding power to account. But this created an expectation that political content should be entertaining, and that comedy is a legitimate vehicle for political understanding.

Iran is copying populist strategy

Since 2008, many populists have recognised the power of using humour in their election campaigns – none more so than Trump. His campaign appearances on comedy podcasts, his garbage truck and McDonald’s drive-through stunts, and his endless memes are not distractions from his political strategy – they are his political strategy.

Trump reached, and mobilised, millions of disaffected and typically uninterested voters who had long since stopped engaging with political news in any traditional form.

Iran has been paying attention. The American scholar of propaganda Nancy Snow has noted that Iran is now “using popular culture against the No.1 pop culture country, the United States”.

The Lego aesthetic, the rap beats, the 1980s pop covers, the selection of jokes are not random choices. They demonstrate a precise calibration of what can effectively reach online audiences in the western attention economy.

The result is content that is not immediately visible as foreign propaganda, and instead looks like entertainment. For audiences already accustomed to learning about politics through comedy, the distinction barely registers.

There is a profound irony here. The cultural conditions that produced shows like The Daily Show and Last Week Tonight – the erosion of trust in mainstream political communication and the demand for authenticity and humour over formal rhetoric – have produced a media environment in which a foreign state can distribute propaganda to millions of Americans, and have it feel indistinguishable from domestic entertainment.

This is not to say that late-night satire and Iranian AI content is equivalent. But they are operating in the same media ecosystem – one in which humour has become a primary method of political communication.

The most unsettling thing about what is happening right now is what this means for our information environment.

If propaganda is indistinguishable from satire, and satire accumulates millions of views while news does not, the line between political entertainment and political persuasion has seemingly collapsed. And the people most affected are those who think they are not following the war at all.

The Conversation

Adam R. North 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.

ref. Iran’s AI memes are reaching people who don’t follow the news – and winning the propaganda war – https://theconversation.com/irans-ai-memes-are-reaching-people-who-dont-follow-the-news-and-winning-the-propaganda-war-280944

How accelerating evolution could help corals survive future heatwaves – new study

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Liam Lachs, Postdoctoral Research Associate in Climate Change Ecology and Evolution, Newcastle University

As global warming accelerates, extreme heatwaves are causing widespread death of tropical reef corals. Most corals rely on tiny algae cells living within their tissues that photosynthesise and produce energy. Corals use this energy to build their skeletons that create the reef structure.

In our warming world, evolution of heatwave tolerance will be critical for coral populations to persist. Natural adaptation occurs over many generations and is probably already under way. But these adaptation rates could be outpaced by ocean warming.

Scientists and reef managers are now calling for “assisted evolution” to help accelerate adaptation. One promising approach is selective breeding to enhance heatwave tolerance.

Our new study explores how such interventions could help corals withstand future heatwaves.

By examining the genetic basis of heat tolerance and other important life history traits including growth, energy reserves and reproduction, we reveal both the potential, and limits, of evolutionary adaptation to extreme heat stress. This work focuses on a captive-bred coral population we reared over eight years in Palau, an archipelago in the west Pacific.

The field of quantitative genetics can shed light on complex traits such as growth and heat tolerance, which are typically influenced by hundreds to thousands of genes. These tools can help us maximise evolutionary responses to selection, and have long been used in agriculture and animal breeding – from the crops we eat to the dogs we have at home.

Two key concepts are central. “Genetic merit” describes the value of an individual for breeding, and “genetic correlations” describe how traits share their underlying genetic basis.

Estimating these requires measuring certain traits like heat tolerance, and collecting information about relatedness among individuals, such as full- or half-siblings. But this is difficult in wild corals, which disperse widely and are typically unrelated to neighbouring individuals on the reef.

Our captive population, containing both related and unrelated individuals, provides a rare opportunity to apply quantitative genetics to adult corals.




Read more:
We’ve bred corals to better tolerate lethal heatwaves, but rapid climate action is still needed to save reefs


Imagine a major heatwave has caused widespread coral mortality. Which corals should we select for propagation or breeding?

Choosing survivors seems intuitive, but survival alone does not guarantee a genetic predisposition for heat tolerance. A coral could survive by chance – perhaps it was shaded or had higher energy reserves, while all its relatives died. Selecting such individuals for breeding would fail to improve heatwave tolerance of future generations.

However, if entire families tend to survive or perish together, that indicates a genetic basis for heatwave tolerance. Using quantitative genetics in such cases can help make more informed choices.

But if no natural heatwave occurs, how can we proactively identify good corals for management? To do this, we need a proxy: an easy-to-measure trait that is genetically correlated with — and so predicts — an individual’s genetic merit for heatwave survival.

We tested coral heat tolerance under four different temperature exposures, ranging from a month-long exposure of 32.5°C to a rapid heatshock reaching 38.5°C.

These high experimental temperatures go beyond what happens in nature. As the simulated conditions grew hotter, we found ever weaker genetic correlations with marine heatwave survival. These tolerance traits exhibit somewhat distinct underlying biology, so careful trait choice is essential. Testing the wrong proxy traits to identify target corals will fail to deliver any heatwave survival enhancement.

two people in outside lab with containers full of coral
Liam Lachs and Adriana Humanes in the coral lab.
Tries Razak, CC BY-NC-ND

But adaptation involves more than just heat tolerance. Individual growth, energy reserves and reproduction are all critical for healthy populations. If enhancing heat tolerance comes at the cost of traits like these, it would undermine population viability.

Encouragingly, we found no detectable negative genetic correlations among any of the traits we studied.

Matching future stress

To explore how assisted evolution could enhance heat tolerance over time, we developed a computer simulation.

This showed us it was possible to reach tolerance levels capable of withstanding future heatwaves, but only under certain conditions.

Selection needed to directly target long-term heatwave survival. This meant choosing only the top 5% most tolerant corals as parents for breeding, and it had to be repeated over multiple generations.

graph showing changes in heatwave tolerance over time for coral, red zone shows heatwave stress
Evolution of heatwave tolerance in response to selection across ten simulated generations (blue-yellow). Expected future heatwave stress is shown in red.
CC BY-NC-ND

But such intense selection introduces other challenges, such as maintaining genetic diversity and scaling up selection efforts. If we need to breed from 50 corals to maintain genetic diversity and do only top-5% selection, then we need to test 1,000 corals. That becomes logistically very challenging.

Our modelling results show assisted evolution can deliver meaningful gains in coral heatwave tolerance. But success will depend on careful trait choice and strong, sustained selection.

Reducing greenhouse gas emissions remains essential to mitigate future warming. Alongside this, strategic management of local ecosystems — from conservation to assisted evolution — will be crucial to help key species adapt and persist in our rapidly warming world.

The Conversation

The authors would like to acknowledge contributions to this research from Alistair J. Wilson at the University of Exeter.

Adriana Humanes and James Guest 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.

ref. How accelerating evolution could help corals survive future heatwaves – new study – https://theconversation.com/how-accelerating-evolution-could-help-corals-survive-future-heatwaves-new-study-280487

Why many of Hungary’s religious groups will be celebrating Viktor Orbán’s election loss

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Marc Roscoe Loustau, Affiliated Fellow at the Institute for Advanced Study, Central European University

Hungary’s long-serving leader, Viktor Orbán, was dismissed on April 12 by an electorate fed up with his authoritarian rule. Péter Magyar led his Tisza party to a landslide victory, securing a two-thirds majority in parliament. This is enough for Tisza to elect members of Hungary’s highest court and even amend the constitution.

Magyar has vowed to change the constitution as one of his first steps in office in a drive to restore democratic standards. Religious minority groups in Hungary, including several that have been treated harshly by Orbán, are likely to be among the main beneficiaries of this change.

Before Orbán came to power, the Hungarian constitution guaranteed the right to choose or change religion and the freedom to express such beliefs. However, Hungary’s religious landscape underwent significant change over Orbán’s 16 years in power.

In June 2011, not long after winning a landslide two-thirds majority in parliament, MPs from Orbán’s Fidesz party passed a law that reduced the number of recognised religious groups in Hungary from 44 to 14.

The main beneficiaries were a group of Christian churches: the Catholic Church, Reformed Church, Lutheran Church, Unitarian Church, Baptist Union and various Orthodox communities. These churches received special commendations as so-called “historical churches” that had played formative roles in Hungarian society.

The main losers from the new law included the Hungarian Evangelical Fellowship (MET), which is led by prominent anti-Orbán critic Gábor Iványi, as well as Buddhist groups and the Hungarian Islamic Community, the oldest Muslim group in the country.

The impetus for the 2011 law came from Orbán’s coalition partner, the Christian National Democratic Party, whose support largely came from the “historical churches” that benefited from the new law. The 14 groups singled out on the official recognition list received various tangible benefits. They were given access to public funding for social services, and people could donate a proportion of their income tax directly to these groups.

Hungary’s constitutional court rejected the new religion law in December 2011, primarily because the parliament approved the law through a highly irregular process. Parliament then drew up nearly identical legislation in response. After more back and forth, Orbán changed the constitution itself in 2013. This change gave parliament explicit and final authority to determine which religious groups to recognise.

Explicit political considerations were injected into the government’s procedure for recognising religious groups. Religious communities had to apply and show they would “cooperate with the state” by providing social services, such as running homeless shelters, schools and eldercare facilities.

These applications were assessed by the Hungarian parliament – and religious groups had to receive a two-thirds majority vote to receive official recognition.

The politicisation of religious life raised immediate objections. Several groups that had been “de-registered”, such as Iványi’s MET, complained of discrimination. They filed lawsuits that went all the way to the European Court of Human Rights.

In a 2014 decision, the European Court of Human Rights ruled that Hungary’s religion law was in breach of multiple articles of the European Convention. This included Article 11, which protects the freedoms of religion and association. The judgment included an order to establish a new process for registering religious groups and a requirement to provide financial restitution to the complainants.

But in a statement released following the verdict, Hungary’s Ministry of Human Resources said the Hungarian government had no obligation to adhere to the court’s rulings. The court’s decision, the statement continued, was evidence of a conspiracy by unnamed “international interest groups”. The restrictive religious legal framework remained largely in place despite the ruling.

This confrontation was one of the first instances of the Orbán government coming into clear conflict with the EU. And the government’s antagonistic response set the tone for the next decade of rancour that has imposed serious damage on Hungary’s relationship with the EU.

Indeed, relations had sunk so low by 2026 that the Danish government called for the suspension of Hungary’s EU voting rights and EU legal experts began drawing up scenarios for recreating a new union without Hungary and Orbán.

Depoliticising religion

The damages for Hungarian religious groups affected by the law have been financial and spiritual. Some groups eventually received financial compensation. But others were forced to register with the government as secular “civil associations” in order to receive government funding. Some refused to change their registration for reasons of religious conscience and effectively ceased to operate entirely.

Now that Orbán’s reign is over, the focus should be on changing the constitution. First and foremost, the process for registering religious groups should be depoliticised. Parliament should have no role and instead the decisions should be turned over to an independent body of experts whose appointments are not dependent on parliament.

But action also needs to be taken by the leadership of Hungary’s Christian churches that enjoyed the privileges of official recognition throughout Orbán’s rule. In large part, these groups did not speak up on behalf of other religious groups as they suffered discrimination at the hands of an antagonistic state.

Magyar has promised to put a revised constitution up for a popular referendum. If the constitution does include substantial and clear provisions for the depoliticisation of religion governance, the church institutions that benefited from Orbán’s rule should use their public moral authority to encourage Hungarians to vote yes.

This would go a long way to demonstrating a commitment to equal treatment for all of Hungary’s religious groups.

The Conversation

Marc Roscoe Loustau 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.

ref. Why many of Hungary’s religious groups will be celebrating Viktor Orbán’s election loss – https://theconversation.com/why-many-of-hungarys-religious-groups-will-be-celebrating-viktor-orbans-election-loss-280478