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May 20, 2026

Transgender youth and their families struggle to find gender-affirming care – even in states where it’s still legal

Source: The Conversation – USA (3) – By Susan Radzilowski, Lecturer in Social Work, University of Michigan

In the face of a confusing and hostile political climate, trans youth and their families are often left to fend for themselves. Chalffy/iStock via Getty Images Plus

Imagine this scenario: In late 2025, a social worker sits down with a transgender teenager and his parents. The family is trying to decide whether, and when, to begin gender-affirming hormone treatment.

No one in the family was questioning this young person’s gender identity. The teen had been living as a boy for years. By all accounts, he was thriving: emotionally, academically and socially.

He felt ready for this next step, and so did his parents – at first.

What gave them pause was not a wavering in the parents’ support of their child’s identity, or a change in the teen’s needs. Instead, they felt unsure whether starting hormone therapy was still legal – or even safe.

As a clinical social worker who works extensively with children and families navigating gender‑affirming care – and as someone whose trans child is now an adult – I have encountered several families facing similar questions about their options. These concerns have grown in recent years, especially as more states have moved to restrict gender-affirming care for minors.

In states like Michigan, gender-affirming care for minors remains legal as of May 2026. Yet news coverage and political rhetoric have left many families uncertain about what care doctors are still permitted to offer.

In response to evolving federal legal and regulatory pressures, several Michigan health systems have limited or discontinued certain forms of gender-affirming medical care for minors. This includes puberty blockers and gender-affirming hormone therapy. These limitations have increased confusion among families about what care remains available.

Families are flooded with disinformation and misinformation suggesting the science on gender-affirming care has changed. It has not. But a growing gap exists between what the law permits and what families believe possible, shaping how parents make medical decisions for their children.

What the law says – and what families hear

As of May 2026, gender-affirming care for minors remains legal in 23 states, with shield laws that protect against prosecution in other states. Around 27 states have enacted laws restricting or banning gender-affirming care for transgender youth.

Regardless of legality, gender-affirming care is endorsed by every major medical association, including the American Medical Association, the American Academy of Pediatrics and the Endocrine Society.

In states where gender‑affirming care is banned, the effects on youth and families are often immediate and far‑reaching. Patients may be forced to stop care, and these unplanned treatment disruptions can negatively affect mental health. Research shows that transgender youth experience increased anxiety, depression and suicidality when they’re exposed to restrictive policies, and a majority have reported that these policies have negatively affected their well‑being.

When care is banned, families shoulder added burdens. They must take time away from work and school and travel long distances – sometimes crossing state lines – to access care. One national study found that more than 1 in 4 transgender youth were living over four hours from the nearest clinic after state legislators enacted restrictions. Many faced even longer travel times. For young people, having to retell their story to a new care team can feel exhausting and traumatizing.

Families are being forced to move across states to access gender-affirming care.

Even in states where care is legal, there are longer wait times and reduced access as providers and families pivot to navigate evolving legal risks. These pressures compound the emotional, logistical and financial toll on families trying to maintain stable care. Parents and young people are also concerned that their care may be abruptly withdrawn once started.

Additionally, parents worry that supporting their child’s gender transition could bring unwanted government scrutiny. In July 2025, the Department of Justice issued subpoenas to doctors and clinics to obtain the private medical records of transgender minors as part of an effort to end pediatric gender-affirming care.

This heightened scrutiny has had a chilling effect on patients and providers, undermining patient privacy and trust in care.

What gender-affirming care actually involves

Much of the pushback concerning gender‑affirming care arises from misunderstandings about what it actually involves.

Gender-affirming care is an individualized approach to supporting young people whose gender identity differs from their sex assigned at birth. It includes social support, mental health assessment and, for some patients, medical treatment.

Care begins with a comprehensive, thorough assessment of the patient, including their mental and physical health and social relationships. Clinicians interview patients about significant aspects of their life, including their gender identity, trauma history, educational status and overall well-being. The parents’ perspectives are incorporated into the assessment as well, along with religious or cultural barriers to care.

To initiate any medical care, consent from the parent and assent from the patient is required. Each patient’s plan is grounded in a full understanding of the child’s needs, and this may or may not involve medical transition.

Access to gender‑affirming care has been consistently associated with improved mental health outcomes, including reductions in depression, anxiety and suicidal thoughts among transgender youth. While some research has reported regret after transitioning, many of these studies tend to discount positive outcomes, minimize the harms of restricting care or apply standards of evidence unevenly for transgender and cisgender children.

For example, the National Health Service England’s 2020 Cass Review has influenced public discourse about gender-affirming care in the U.S. and the U.K. It concluded that there is limited and uncertain evidence supporting medical interventions for transgender youth and recommended a more cautious approach to care. However, scholars across medicine, mental health and law have criticized the Cass Review’s methodology and conclusions, noting that the authors misused or misrepresented parts of the available data and applied inconsistent standards when evaluating research.

Critics caution against applying the review’s findings to patient care. Doing so risks harming young patients by treating transgender identities as a disease and making blanket recommendations against care.

Even where care is legal, accessing it is harder

Together, misinformation, legal threats and evolving policies have made accessing evidence‑based care more difficult. This has resulted in the weakening of the safeguards supporting comprehensive care and ongoing monitoring of young patients’ physical and mental health. Some families have been forced to navigate fragmented access to care, rely on less experienced providers or attempt to piece together care on their own.

Some politicians frame restrictive policies as protecting young people. But these restrictions in fact have the opposite effect by limiting access to care and destabilizing established treatment plans.

Protestors holding signs next to a street lamp at night, two of which read 'DEFEAT TRUMP'S BAN ON TRANS YOUTH MEDICAL CARE' — The Trump administration has subpoenaed several hospitals for access to the private medical records of trans patients.
AP Photo/Heather Khalifa

When care is delayed or interrupted, the resulting distress that a young patient experiences stems not from a change in their gender identity, but from uncertainty about what comes next.

Research has shown that this instability can increase a young person’s risk of anxiety, depression and suicidal ideation.

How parents can support their trans child

When medical care is inaccessible, there are still tangible ways parents can support their children.

For one, parents can affirm their child’s gender by using their chosen name and pronouns, and asking other family members to do the same. They can also support their child by allowing them to explore their gender expression, welcoming their child’s trans friends into family activities and creating spaces where their identity is respected.

Parents can monitor changes in their child’s mood or behavior and use those moments as opportunities to check in. When concerns arise, they can consider connecting their child with a gender‑affirming therapist.

Parents can also advocate for their child at home and at school. They can work with schools to develop a gender support plan that proactively addresses potential challenges, including name and pronouns, access to restrooms and activities, and identifying adult allies.

Parental support remains one of the strongest protective factors for the mental health and overall well-being of their child. For some parents, this parallel process involves letting go of expectations or assumptions about who their child would be, and fully loving and seeing the child in front of them. That shift can provide a sense of direction and open the door to deeper, more genuine intimacy.

My experience has shown me, time and again, that when a child transitions, the whole family transitions alongside them. Consistent parental support helps young people tolerate uncertainty in an unpredictable legal and political climate. More importantly, steady, affirming support from adults helps transgender youth maintain connection, safety and hope for the future, even when access to care becomes unstable.

Susan Radzilowski 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. Transgender youth and their families struggle to find gender-affirming care – even in states where it’s still legal – https://theconversation.com/transgender-youth-and-their-families-struggle-to-find-gender-affirming-care-even-in-states-where-its-still-legal-281492

May 20, 2026

How you map numbers in your mind isn’t universal, even among people who read the same language

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Olga Lazareva, Professor of Psychology, Drake University

Each person organizes quantities and gradients in their own mental space. AMarc/iStock via Getty Images Plus

Imagine taking out a 12-inch ruler and finding that the number 12 is on the left side and the number 1 is on the right side. For most native English speakers, this would be disorienting. We are used to seeing the numbers move from smallest to largest, from left to right. When this layout flips, people struggle because the numbers are now in the “wrong” place.

Psychologists have long known that people in Western cultures tend to associate smaller numbers with the left side of space and larger numbers with the right, a phenomenon called the SNARC effect – short for Spatial-Numerical Association of Response Codes.

In the lab, researchers like us test this tendency by asking people to press a left or a right button when shown a numerical digit. Native English speakers are generally quicker to press left for small numbers and right for large numbers because these locations match our mental number line.

But here’s the twist: What feels like the “correct” direction depends on where you grew up and where you live. In places with right-to-left languages like Arabic, the pattern often flips: People are faster to press right for small numbers and left for large numbers. Speakers of Farsi, a right-to-left language, who were born in Iran but move to France gradually shift toward a left-to-right mapping the longer they stay.

Woman kneeling next to young child points to number on a number line — Learning to read and count can influence your mental map.
Lucidio Studio, Inc./Moment via Getty Images

Even literacy matters. On average, people who never learned to read or count don’t show the effect at all. Researchers aren’t sure why. Maybe these people do not map numbers to space. Or maybe each individual has their own different orientation – left-to-right vs. right-to-left – that wash each other out when investigators average them all together.

Although people in Western cultures are used to seeing numbers increase left to right on keypads, rulers or classroom number lines, the SNARC effect isn’t limited to numbers. In the lab, similar left-to-right patterns appear with other magnitudes, including size, height and brightness.

A key question is the origin of the SNARC effect. Some researchers point to brain lateralization: the differences in how the left and right sides of the brain are wired and used. Others suggest it is a broader cognitive habit: When people line things up, they prefer to sort them in an order that makes sense for them. For example, if you are comparing 5 inches to 9 inches, you might think of 5 on the left and 9 on the right. But if you were comparing 5 o’clock to 9 o’clock, you might think of 5 on the right and 9 on the left, based on the face of an analog clock.

But culture matters, too: Cultural experience learning that “small” is on the left and “large” is on the right results in a stronger SNARC effect. It’s therefore not yet clear where the SNARC effect comes from because in humans, biology and culture are all tangled up.

Do other animals have mental number lines?

Our field of study is comparative cognition. We study how primates and birds make sense of the world: how they think, learn and remember. Animals share many cognitive processes with humans, but lack cultural experiences like reading, writing and counting, making them ideal subjects for investigating this number-line question.

We and other researchers in our field started by developing a SNARC task for nonhuman animals. We showed orangutans and gorillas two sets of dots on a touchscreen, one on the left and the other on the right. If these animals naturally associate “less” with left and “more” with right, then on average they should have been more accurate and faster at picking out the smaller set when it appeared on the left than when it appeared on the right. But that is not what happened.

Orangutan reaches fingers through fencing toward a computer screen; white bird faces a blue computer screen. — An orangutan and a pigeon select the smaller number of dots on a touchscreen computer task meant to measure the SNARC effect – how they map quantities onto space.
Reggie Gazes and Olga Lazareva

Looking closer at the individuals, we saw why: Some apes showed a left-to-right pattern and others preferred right-to-left. These individual preferences canceled each other out in our overall averaged results. This split suggested that apes, like humans, do organize magnitudes in space. But without cultural cues like reading or counting direction, each animal developed its own preferred ordering direction.

We and others have since replicated the original study in rhesus monkeys, pigeons and blue jays and our ongoing, not yet peer-reviewed study with chickens. In all of these cases, there’s strong evidence for spatial representation of magnitude, along with clear individual differences in direction.

Number-line direction may not be so clear-cut

Finding so much variability in animals made us think: Might individual people also differ more than the averages suggest? Many SNARC studies report only average scores combining all the people tested, making it hard to see whether individual people vary like other animals do.

So we ran a new study in which native English speakers from the United States judged different magnitudes ranging from Arabic numerals to dot quantities and the brightness of a square. The averages showed the expected left-to-right pattern. But individuals often didn’t.

Nearly a quarter of participants judging dot quantities showed a right-to-left pattern, contradicting their reading and counting history. When judging brightness of a square, the split was almost 50/50, erasing the average effect altogether, just like in animals.

Our results suggest that the SNARC effect isn’t a universal rule etched into human brains by culture. Instead, it looks more like a flexible way of thinking that can vary among individuals, species – or even from task to task in the same person. Some people like arranging things left-to-right, others prefer right-to-left, and the same is true of animals.

By looking beyond averages, we see a richer story: Minds can be flexible and inventive, whether they belong to apes, birds or humans.

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.

– ref. How you map numbers in your mind isn’t universal, even among people who read the same language – https://theconversation.com/how-you-map-numbers-in-your-mind-isnt-universal-even-among-people-who-read-the-same-language-261258

May 20, 2026

Au‑delà du dialogue rompu : comment les controverses sociales rebattent les règles du vivre‑ensemble

Source: The Conversation – in French – By Adam Tremblay, Candidat au doctorat en sociologie, L’Université d’Ottawa/University of Ottawa

Les récentes controverses autour de la liberté académique, de l’appropriation culturelle ou de la transidentité dans le sport ne sont pas de simples disputes d’opinion. Parler de « controverse sociale » permet de les comprendre comme de nouvelles formes d’affrontement qui redéfinissent, sous nos yeux, les normes de notre vivre‑ensemble

Le 1^er août 2024, lors des Jeux olympiques de Paris, la boxeuse algérienne Imane Khelif affronte l’Italienne Angela Carini. Le combat, interrompu après 46 secondes, déclenche une controverse mondiale. Carini, étourdie et en larmes, refuse de saluer son adversaire, déclarant n’avoir jamais encaissé de coups aussi puissants.

Ce geste s’inscrit dans un contexte précis : depuis mars 2023, l’International Boxing Association remet en question l’éligibilité de Khelif à la catégorie féminine, affirmant disposer de tests révélant des chromosomes XY. En quelques heures, l’affaire cristallise une polarisation mondiale autour de l’intersexualité dans le sport et de la définition du « féminin » en compétition internationale.

Concernant l’identité sexuelle de Khelif, les certitudes se dissolvent dans un brouillard de déclarations contradictoires. Le Comité international olympique (2024) affirme qu’elle est une femme, avec un sexe biologique féminin et un passeport féminin depuis sa naissance, tandis qu’un média français publie en novembre 2024 ce qu’il présente comme un rapport médical confidentiel indiquant une différence de développement sexuel avec chromosomes XY, testicules internes et micropénis.

Face à ces informations divergentes, la distinction entre « vrai » et « faux » devient elle-même objet de controverse, d’autant qu’aucun consensus scientifique ne se dégage sur l’ampleur des avantages conférés par l’hyperandrogénie ni sur la légitimité éthique des régulations en place.

Le cas Khelif ne se joue donc pas principalement sur le terrain de la preuve scientifique. Il mobilise des questions morales et identitaires : qu’est‑ce qu’une femme ? Qui a le pouvoir de définir ces catégories ? Ces interrogations restent sans réponse consensuelle, car les coalitions adverses ne partagent ni les mêmes prémisses ontologiques (qu’est-ce qui existe ?), ni les mêmes critères épistémologiques (comment le savoir ?), ni les mêmes priorités normatives (faut-il privilégier l’inclusion ou l’équité sportive ?). Que l’une de ces positions soit, dans l’« absolu », plus solide que l’autre n’empêche pas la coalition qui la défend de subir des revers concrets ni celle qui la conteste d’obtenir des gains institutionnels durables.

Une forme de conflictualité à part entière

La controverse Khelif n’est ni marginale ni anecdotique. On peut penser, au Québec, à l’annulation des spectacles SLĀV et Kanata de Robert Lepage à l’été 2018, ou à la suspension de l’enseignante Verushka Lieutenant-Duval à l’automne 2020 pour avoir prononcé le mot en « n » en contexte pédagogique. Aux États-Unis, on peut penser à la controverse autour de la nageuse transgenre Lia Thomas durant la saison universitaire 2021‑2022.

L’affaire Khelif est venue s’ajouter comme une confirmation additionnelle d’une forme de conflictualité que j’analysais déjà dans mes recherches doctorales, m’intéressant aux nombreuses controverses entourant les revendications de minorités sexuelles, de genre et ethnoraciales dans l’espace public. C’est ce type de conflictualité, récurrent mais encore mal nommé, que j’ai cherché à conceptualiser dans ma thèse.

Le contexte de la controverse sociale

La mutation des médias de masse et l’essor des réseaux numériques ont accéléré et densifié la circulation des prises de parole dans l’espace public. C’est dans ce nouvel environnement communicationnel que les controverses sociales apparaissent.

Ces transformations médiatiques et numériques modifient en effet drastiquement la façon de participer au débat public, les luttes pour la reconnaissance n’y échappant pas. Grâce aux réseaux sociaux, des personnes qui ne se connaissent pas, mais dont les positions convergent ponctuellement se retrouvent comme membres d’une même « coalition » : des regroupements circonstanciels d’acteurs, sans organisation formelle.

Ces transformations connectent de fait des expériences locales (un combat de boxe, un cours universitaire, un spectacle de théâtre) aux trajectoires conflictuelles plus larges des polarisations politiques et morales du moment. Certains cas prennent alors des proportions extrêmes. Celui de Khelif l’illustre bien : l’ampleur qu’il prend tient au fait qu’il cristallise tout en amplifiant les lignes de fracture déjà présentes dans la société.

Les multiples visages du conflit public

Pour qualifier cette forme conflictuelle, il faut d’abord la situer par rapport aux catégories existantes. Le cas Khelif présente des airs de famille avec plusieurs formes connues, sans se réduire à aucune d’elles.

On y trouve d’abord des éléments du débat public classique, au sens que lui donne le linguiste français Patrick Charaudeau. Une question surgit – est-il juste que Khelif participe dans la catégorie féminine ? – et provoque un emballement médiatique. Des coalitions se forment sur-le-champ : responsables politiques, athlètes, fédérations et commentateurs se rangent rapidement « pour » ou « contre ». Dans cette conception, le désaccord est encadré par un dispositif institué (parlement, plateau de télévision, tribune officielle) et par des règles de discussion qui visent à rendre le désaccord surmontable et à ouvrir la possibilité d’un compromis.

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Or, dans le cas Khelif, le différend déborde ces cadres institutionnels : les coalitions adverses ne reconnaissent aucun cadre de référence commun, et tout compromis apparaît sinon impossible, du moins invraisemblable. Il ne s’agit ni de coopérer pour aboutir à un consensus ni de se contenter d’un dissensus, mais d’enjoindre le CIO de trancher en faveur d’un camp, contre l’autre.

S’agit-il alors d’une controverse scientifique ? Des experts interviennent, des tests sont évoqués, des rapports circulent. Mais le désaccord ne porte pas seulement sur des chiffres ou des seuils hormonaux : il porte sur ce qu’est une femme, sur l’inclusion et l’équité sportive. Même si la science était parfaite, les camps resteraient en désaccord, parce qu’ils ne partagent pas les mêmes valeurs. L’endocrinologiste américain Bradley Anawalt, professeur à l’Université de Washington, doute d’ailleurs que la science puisse un jour trancher définitivement qui doit être admis ou non dans la catégorie féminine.

Reste la tentation de comprendre l’affaire sous l’angle de la polémique, au sens de la théoricienne du discours Ruth Amossy, professeure à l’Université de Tel‑Aviv. Elle en rassemble plusieurs éléments : déclarations outrancières, indignation en boucle, disqualification, forte présence d’émotions et de composantes affectives. Mais la polémique, telle qu’Amossy la conçoit, suppose d’en rester au dissensus, en s’en satisfaisant : comme elle ne cesse de le rappeler, la polémique est un mode de « coexistence dans le dissensus ».

On s’affronte violemment sur l’immigration ou le climat, mais le discours que l’on tient participe pleinement du débat public : les polémistes cherchent avant tout à convaincre l’opinion publique. Or, à travers le cas Khelif, ce qui se trouve directement mis en cause n’est plus seulement l’issue d’un débat, mais le cadre de la compétition lui-même. Le conflit ne se joue donc pas dans les limites du vivre-ensemble, il porte sur ces limites.

La controverse sociale : une forme émergente

Ce que j’appelle « controverse sociale » pousse cette logique d’un cran. Dans l’affaire Khelif, il ne s’agit plus seulement de dire « j’ai raison, tu as tort », mais de redéfinir qui a le droit de participer à quoi, selon quelles règles, et à quelles conditions on appartient à une catégorie comme « femme » dans le sport. Chaque camp cherche à imposer sa hiérarchie des valeurs comme principe organisateur d’un milieu social. Le conflit porte donc sur les fondations mêmes du vivre-ensemble.

Cette trajectoire conflictuelle ne se limite pas au cas Khelif. On la retrouve dans des affaires touchant à la liberté académique, à l’appropriation culturelle, aux pronoms, aux quotas, au voile islamique ou au retrait de statues. À chaque fois, un incident local devient le point de départ d’un affrontement entre des visions incompatibles de ce qui est juste ou légitime.

L’architecture numérique amplifie ces chocs : le pic est rapide, la polarisation maximale, chaque coalition enregistre victoires et défaites, puis la controverse s’épuise sans véritable résolution, jusqu’au prochain cas qui réactive le même clivage. Dans certains cas toutefois, une valeur cardinale finit par s’imposer comme principe d’arbitrage. La controverse fait alors figure de carrefour où un milieu social choisit, explicitement ou non, une direction normative contre une autre.

Parler en termes de « controverse sociale », ce n’est donc pas rebaptiser des disputes anciennes. C’est insister sur un type de conflit où l’on ne discute plus seulement d’opinions, mais des catégories mêmes à travers lesquelles on voit le monde social, et des valeurs qui doivent les gouverner. Comprendre ces affrontements, c’est se donner les moyens de saisir comment, à travers des cas comme celui d’Imane Khelif, se redessinent aujourd’hui les frontières de nos appartenances et les conditions de notre vivre-ensemble.

Adam Tremblay ne travaille pas, ne conseille pas, ne possède pas de parts, ne reçoit pas de fonds d’une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n’a déclaré aucune autre affiliation que son organisme de recherche.

– ref. Au‑delà du dialogue rompu : comment les controverses sociales rebattent les règles du vivre‑ensemble – https://theconversation.com/au-dela-du-dialogue-rompu-comment-les-controverses-sociales-rebattent-les-regles-du-vivre-ensemble-282459

May 20, 2026

What AI taxis and robots can learn from bees

Source: The Conversation – UK – By HaDi MaBouDi, Research fellow, University of Sheffield

Bees are very good at navigation. James wk/Shutterstock

Even advanced technology can struggle when the real world becomes unpredictable. In April 2026, a Waymo robotaxi in San Antonio, Texas, drove into a flooded lane during severe weather, prompting the company to recall about 3,800 vehicles for a software fix.

No one was injured, but the incident exposed a deeper challenge: intelligence is not just about processing data. It is about knowing where to look, what to notice, when to act and how to use previous experience when conditions change.

AI researchers are now looking at bees and other insects to help them design machines and robots that can make better decisions.

My research explores how bees learn, from identifying simple visual patterns to mastering high-level concepts, and how they adapt their behaviour when conditions change.

By combining behavioural experiments, neural recording (for example, measuring signals from the brain) and neuromorphic computing (an approach to computing inspired by the animal brain), my goal is to uncover the biological code that allows tiny brains to navigate a complex world and make efficient decisions. I have also worked in industry to translate these biological discoveries into robotic applications – bringing the intelligence of the hive to machine intelligence.

Research on honeybee decision making has shown that bees make rapid and accurate choices about whether to accept or reject flowers. They do not need perfect information. Instead, they combine sensory evidence, past experience and the likely value of a reward (for example, how much nectar they might gather).

Many autonomous systems need to be able to do this. A robot exploring a greenhouse, warehouse or disaster zone cannot wait for perfect data. Bees offer a model based on flexible decisions and useful shortcuts rather than huge computation.

With brains smaller than a sesame seed, bees navigate long distances, move through cluttered landscapes, identify rewarding flowers, avoid danger, communicate with nestmates and make rapid decisions. They achieve this with a tiny fraction of the energy used by modern computers, and can learn after only a few experiences that a new colour, scent or pattern predicts food.

This makes the bee an unlikely blueprint for low-power, robust AI and autonomous systems that can cope with the real world.

Bees can multitask

Many AI systems are designed to do one task well, such as recognising an image, following a route or detecting an object. Robotics has a harder ambition: compact machines that handle many tasks in unpredictable environments while using little power.

Bees offer a working example. During one foraging trip, a bee must find food, stay orientated, avoid danger and update its choices from experience, all with a brain containing around one million neurons. They do this by combining vision, smell, touch, vibration and airflow. Rather than processing every detail, they fuse information streams and extract what matters for survival.

Bees are valuable for robotics because they show how a small system can coordinate many tasks without huge computing power. That principle could guide low-power autonomous systems for agriculture, search and rescue, environmental monitoring and planetary exploration.

Bees also show that intelligence depends not only on what an animal senses, but also on how it moves to gather and shape information. This idea, known as active sensing, could transform robotics. When a bee approaches a flower, it does not take a still image like a camera. It moves its head and body; changes angle and creates patterns of visual motion across its eyes. These movements help useful information stand out, allowing the bee to ignore irrelevant details. This is why bees do not need to remember a flower as a detailed image. They only need to learn the key cues that help them recognise it again. Movement becomes part of sensing.

That is different from many machine-vision systems, which passively analyse images. A small robot using the bee’s strategy would not need to process every pixel. It could move to make the scene easier to understand, shifting position to judge distance, turning to improve contrast or using motion to detect obstacles.

The lesson is simple: intelligence is less about processing everything and more about using the right strategy to find the right information at the right time.

For a foraging bee, a bad decision can be costly. Visiting the wrong flower after a long journey wastes time and energy. Taking too long can mean losing an opportunity or being exposed to danger. To solve this, bees use relatively simple neural circuits to make rapid, accurate and risk-aware decisions. They do not need a huge brain or vast computing power. Instead, this minimal circuit helps them quickly decide whether to reject a flower or land on it safely.

Robotic navigation inspired by honey bee flight.

Navigation without a map

Navigation is another area where bees inspire engineers. Bees can travel several kilometres from the hive to food sources and return home using visual landmarks, distance estimates and memory. New research inspired by honeybee flights has shown how tiny drones could navigate using very small neural networks. In the study, a bee-inspired system called Bee-Nav allowed small robots to travel away from home and return using only a compact neural memory. Therefore, future drones may not need GPS, detailed maps or large onboard computers.

Instead, they may use compact memories of important views and simple movement rules. Such systems could be useful where GPS is unreliable, such as in forests, tunnels, greenhouses or collapsed buildings.

Many future machines, from small drones to farm robots and environmental sensors, will need to act without heavy batteries or constant cloud computing. Like bees, they will need simple navigation strategies that work with limited energy, memory and information.

The real lesson is broader: intelligence does not always require scale. As AI becomes more common in daily life, the bee offers an elegant answer to rising energy demands. For decades, the ambition of AI was to build systems that match the human mind, but the bee shows that smart does not have to mean big.

By mimicking the bee’s ability to learn fast, navigate without maps and integrate multiple sources of information, we may build technology that is more efficient, flexible and resilient.

HaDi MaBouDi 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. What AI taxis and robots can learn from bees – https://theconversation.com/what-ai-taxis-and-robots-can-learn-from-bees-283089

May 20, 2026

Taiwan Travelogue wins 2026 International Booker – a deftly translated tale of food, love and history

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Eva Cheuk-Yin Li, Lecturer in Screen Industries, King’s College London

Set in 1930s Taiwan under Japanese colonial rule, Taiwan Travelogue follows fictional Japanese novelist Aoyama Chizuko and her Taiwanese interpreter, Ō Chizuru (or Ông Tshian-ho’h), as they journey across colonial Taiwan by rail, encountering its diverse local food cultures. But Taiwan Travelogue is far more than a historical travel narrative. Through meals, translation and silences, Yáng explores colonial power, intimacy and the limits of empathy.

At first glance, the novel almost resembles a cookbook. Each chapter is named after a meal shared by the two women. Taiwan Travelogue’s prose lingers over the preparation of meals, unfamiliar ingredients and the rituals of eating together. Food is not simply decorative detail, but a way of unfolding history and negotiating power.

Readers expecting a gentle culinary novel may initially miss how carefully constructed the book really is. Nearly every detail acquires new meaning in retrospect. The novel rewards rereading because Yáng quietly plants clues throughout the text, allowing seemingly ordinary moments to gather emotional and political weight over time.

Despite its engagement with colonial violence and historical trauma, Taiwan Travelogue never feels emotionally heavy handed. Much of the pleasure of reading the novel lies in its warmth and humour: the fragrant descriptions of food, the characters’ banter and their small moments of laughter and companionship. Yáng has a remarkable ability to smuggle larger political questions into scenes of everyday intimacy. Reflections on empire and power emerge gradually through conversations about local dishes, cooking techniques or dining etiquette.

One of the book’s most striking features is its meta-fictional structure, which layers a fictional author, a fictional translator and a fictional contemporary introduction, written as though by a real person. This is not merely stylistic play, but a structural argument about mediation: who is authorised to produce knowledge, whose voice is foregrounded and whose remains partial or silent. Unreliability here is not a narrative flaw but a reflection of how colonial power shapes what can be known and said.

This framing matters because the novel is deeply concerned with who gets to speak, who gets represented, whose feelings are recognised and whose knowledge remains hidden. Chizuko, the Japanese “mainlander” novelist, may appear to guide the narrative, but much of the novel’s emotional and political force lies in what the Taiwanese “islander” interpreter Chizuru chooses not to say.

One of the most striking aspects of the novel is how it handles intimacy between the two women. Their relationship is never explicitly named. Instead, Yáng renders undercurrents of queer desire through shared meals, gestures and unfinished conversations.

The restraint is precisely what makes the relationship so affecting. The novel captures how intimacy can emerge within unequal structures of power. But it never allows readers to forget the colonial conditions shaping these encounters.

This subtle treatment of queer intimacy is characteristic of Yáng Shuāng-zǐ’s wider body of work. In the Sinophone world, Yáng is already well known for writing in the yuri (sappic/lesibian) genre, often blending queer desire with historical settings and literary imaginary worlds. Taiwan Travelogue introduces Anglophone readers to a writer whose work has long occupied an important place within Sinophone queer literary culture.

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One line in particular lingered with me long after finishing the novel:

There is nothing in the world more difficult to refuse than self-righteous goodwill.

The sentence speaks not only to colonialism in 1930s Taiwan, but also to contemporary forms of neocolonialism or liberal benevolence that leave little room for refusal or disagreement. Yáng never forces present day parallels onto the reader, but the connections feel unmistakable.

The International Booker Prize recognises both author and translator. Lin King’s translation is central to the novel’s achievement. King preserves the novel’s shifting textures and layered voices while guiding English-language readers through its historical and linguistic complexities – not just Mandarin Chinese, but also Japanese and Taigi used throughout the book. Even names and terms appear in several transliterations, tracing the complex linguistic legacy produced by Taiwan’s multiple colonial histories.

As King noted in her acceptance speech, translators are often deemed successful when their presence is rendered invisible within the text. Yet her work resists that invisibility. Through carefully placed footnotes and subtle contextual guidance, she makes translation feel less like a transparent bridge and more like an ongoing process of cultural negotiation and interpretation.

What makes Taiwan Travelogue stand out is the subtlety of its political vision. Yáng avoids dramatic revelations or moral certainty. Instead, she asks readers to sit with ambiguity: with partial understanding, unequal intimacy and the uneasy coexistence of everyday banter, affection and colonial violence.

It is this quiet complexity that makes the novel so memorable. Taiwan Travelogue begins as a richly sensory journey through food and travel, but gradually opens into questions of identity, history and geopolitics. Though set in colonial Taiwan, its reflections on cultural power, democracy and whose stories get told feel strikingly relevant today.

This article features references to books that have been included for editorial reasons, and may contain links to bookshop.org. If you click on one of the links and go on to buy something, The Conversation UK may earn a commission.

Eva Cheuk-Yin Li 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. Taiwan Travelogue wins 2026 International Booker – a deftly translated tale of food, love and history – https://theconversation.com/taiwan-travelogue-wins-2026-international-booker-a-deftly-translated-tale-of-food-love-and-history-283393

May 20, 2026

European countries reach new agreement on human rights – here’s what it means for the UK’s immigration debate

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Angus Harrison, Senior Lecturer in Law, The University of Law

The 46 countries bound by the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR) have signed a new declaration on migration, setting out how they believe human rights law should apply to migration issues.

With the ECHR playing a contentious role in immigration discourse in the UK, the UK government trailed this declaration as a “more modern interpretation” of the ECHR that would help “restore order and control”. Yet the declaration may not change very much in practice.

The ECHR is a key human rights treaty signed by almost every European country, binding them to respect a list of fundamental rights. The European Court of Human Rights in Strasbourg has the final say in interpreting what these rights require in practice.

Two ECHR rights are particularly important when it comes to immigration: Article 8 (the right to respect for private and family life), and Article 3 (the right to freedom from torture or inhuman treatment). This new declaration, signed in the Moldovan capital of Chișinău, follows a campaign by some countries, including the UK, to change the interpretation of these rights to make removing migrants easier. It does not remove the authority of the Strasbourg court on these issues, but is likely to influence it.

The right to family life

Article 8, the right to family life, is known as a “qualified right”. This means that governments can make decisions that interfere with it (such as deporting someone with family in the UK) to pursue aims like immigration control – so long as their actions are “proportionate” to their aims.

The UK government wants a “rebalancing” of this right, giving more weight to the “public interest” and less to offenders’ family ties. The Chișinău declaration says that Strasbourg should respect national governments’ views, intervening only very exceptionally.

In reality, however, the Strasbourg court has already been doing this for years. In 2017, the court held that as long as ECHR countries carefully weighed up all relevant factors, such as the extent of the person’s family life and nature of their offending, then, “it is not for the court to substitute its own assessment”.

The perception that Strasbourg hinders the UK on family life matters is aided by misinformation – for example, the extensively reported case of a criminal migrant who was supposedly allowed to remain in the UK because his son disliked the chicken nuggets abroad. This was, however, never the basis of the decision. The declaration may fuel headlines about closing a “chicken nugget loophole”, but no such loophole really existed.

Inhuman treatment

The other right up for reinterpretation is Article 3, covering torture or inhuman treatment. This is an “absolute” right, meaning states are forbidden from such treatment under any circumstances.

Strasbourg’s interpretation of this right in migration has caused a genuine problem for governments. An example is the recent case of Nicolas de Brito, who was wanted on murder charges in Brazil. After fleeing to the UK, he successfully challenged extradition because prison conditions in Brazil fell below Strasbourg’s standards for inhuman treatment, due to overcrowding. He was released to live and work in the UK, and the murder case in Brazil had to be shelved.

In my forthcoming research, I argue that results like this arise from a crucial mistake made by Strasbourg. The problem began with a case in 1989, when the court first considered a new question: can a European state extradite someone if they might suffer inhuman treatment in the country receiving them?

The court’s judgment was ambiguously written. In my view, it is best read as saying that the ECHR does not normally govern what another state outside Europe does after extradition. However, removal should be blocked if there is a risk of exceptionally grave treatment.

In subsequent cases, though, Strasbourg arguably misinterpreted this. Instead of holding that only the most serious forms of mistreatment should prevent a person’s removal, it began holding that anything that would breach Article 3 should prohibit a person being extradited, if it might happen abroad.

When “inhuman treatment” was later expanded to include overcrowded prisons, this created a difficult situation for governments trying to extradite people. If a European country’s own prison systems are found to fall below acceptable standards, they can respond by changing them. However, they cannot control prisons in countries like Brazil. This means that in a case like de Brito’s, they are forced to release him regardless of the murder charges, as this is the only way to ensure he does not enter these conditions.

The solution is to recognise that while the ECHR should still bar European governments from imposing inhuman prison conditions themselves, the position must be different when it comes to conditions in another country. Then, only the most serious matters should block extradition. This is not because someone in de Brito’s situation has inferior rights to a prisoner in Europe, but because it is Brazil, not the UK, that is responsible for fulfilling his rights.

While the new declaration made in Moldova expresses that states are “concerned” about the implications of this issue, it otherwise again simply restates the law as it already is. This is a missed opportunity to untangle the knot in which the court has tied itself.

Finally, in a section on “new approaches to migration”, the declaration says that European states are allowed to process asylum seekers’ claims in another country. This could include schemes like the UK’s now-abandoned Rwanda plan.

However, this is not a new position. The UK’s plan wasn’t blocked because countries could not process asylum claims abroad in principle. Instead, it was because the UK’s specific scheme failed to ensure these claims would be properly dealt with. This remains the case: the declaration says that states’ power to operate such schemes applies only “provided that they continue to fulfil their [ECHR] obligations”.

Overall, then, the declaration does very little to change how countries may legally approach immigration control. It spends much time restating existing law, while missing a chance to meaningfully engage with the hardest issue.

Rights groups worried that the declaration would weaken protections for migrants. Their concern should not be with the declaration itself, but the wider political context in which it originates – and that debate is set to rumble on.

Angus Harrison 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. European countries reach new agreement on human rights – here’s what it means for the UK’s immigration debate – https://theconversation.com/european-countries-reach-new-agreement-on-human-rights-heres-what-it-means-for-the-uks-immigration-debate-281827

May 20, 2026

Why digital IDs are back on the UK government’s agenda

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Tim Holmes, Senior Lecturer in Criminology and Policing, Bangor University

In the recent king’s speech, King Charles outlined a series of UK government proposals, including plans to move forward with digital identity through the digital access to services bill.

The government says the scheme is designed to modernise access to public services, allowing people to verify who they are more quickly and securely. The proposal is voluntary. But after last September’s politically bruising debate over compulsory national ID cards, digital identity may once again become a contentious issue.

Digital IDs are electronic forms of identification used instead of paper documents. They are typically accessed through smartphones or smartcards. Finland became the first country to introduce a national electronic identity card in 1999, and over 130 countries have since rolled out some form of digital ID system.

The UK has revisited the idea repeatedly. In 2006, the Labour party’s attempt to introduce an identity card scheme collapsed amid concerns over cost, privacy and state surveillance. Despite the political failure of that project, the UK has steadily moved towards a digital-first approach in everyday life.

That’s something that is often overlooked in debates around identity systems. Outside a few areas such as international travel and right-to-work checks, online identification has become increasingly common. People already use apps to access banking, healthcare, transport and government services.

The pandemic also accelerated expectations around digital access to services. People increasingly expect interactions with government to mirror the convenience offered by organisations like banks and streaming platforms. They want services to be accessible on demand, on the device of their choosing, with updates and progress tracking built in.

Government figures suggest 93% of UK adults now own a smartphone. A recent report found that 90% of adults under 65 use smartphones daily. Even among over-65s, usage stood at 76%, suggesting digital technology is now embedded across generations.

The proposed digital ID scheme would store basic identifying information, like name, date of birth, nationality or residency status and a photo. This would be accessible through a smartphone.

With the introduction of GOV.UK wallet (which will let people save documents like a driving licence, veteran’s card or certain qualifications to their phone) in 2027, it’s possible that convenience could play a role in public acceptance of the idea.

Drawbacks

Some of the objections that haunted earlier ID card proposals have not disappeared, however. Critics of compulsory digital IDs have warned about threats to civil liberties and the potential expansion of state monitoring. While the new scheme is voluntary, campaigners argue that voluntary systems can gradually become unavoidable in practice.

The Digital Poverty Alliance charity has warned that digital ID could deepen existing inequality if access to services increasingly depends on smartphones or online verification. Elizabeth Anderson, the organisation’s chief executive, has argued that when public and private services begin relying on digital ID systems, offline alternatives can become “slow, complex, or difficult to access”.

That concern reflects a broader issue of digital inequality in the UK. Around 2.4 million households can’t afford their mobile phone contracts, including having to cancel or change services and missing payments. Also, more than 1.5 million people don’t own a smartphone. So, as digital ID becomes more widely adopted, the pressure to improve digital access and literacy will only grow.

The politics surrounding identity cards have also changed. Public concern over illegal immigration and small boat crossings has increased pressure on the government to appear decisive. In September 2025, Keir Starmer’s proposal for compulsory ID cards was presented by supporters as a tougher approach to immigration control.

A crowd of people protesting against digital ID — A protest against digital ID in London in December 2025.
Donovan Elmes/Shutterstock

But the backlash was swift. Critics questioned whether compulsory ID cards would reduce illegal immigration, and warned about issues with privacy, surveillance and government overreach. A petition opposing the proposal attracted millions of signatures, which may have contributed to the government’s eventual retreat towards the voluntary model now being proposed.

That may prove politically safer. But the debate is unlikely to disappear.

Supporters see digital ID as a practical modernisation of public services and identity verification. Critics fear a gradual drift towards a society in which proving who you are becomes a routine requirement for everyday life.

So, the central issues remain unresolved. With Starmer already facing political pressure on several fronts, digital identity may become yet another divisive battleground.

Tim Holmes 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 digital IDs are back on the UK government’s agenda – https://theconversation.com/why-digital-ids-are-back-on-the-uk-governments-agenda-283022

May 20, 2026

Beyond regulation: Why committed leadership will decide Canada’s energy future

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Amir Bahman Radnejad, Chair and Associate Professor of Innovation and Marketing, Mount Royal University

The Canadian government’s discussion paper, Getting Major Projects Built in Canada, represents a significant and long overdue shift in how it approaches major infrastructure and energy development.

After years of slow, fragmented and unpredictable project approvals, the recognition that Canada’s regulatory system has undermined competitiveness and discouraged investment is both accurate and welcome.

Investor surveys in Canada’s resource sector consistently identify regulatory uncertainty and approval delays as major deterrents to investment.

If implemented effectively, the proposed reforms — particularly efforts to reduce duplication, co-ordinate consultations, establish clearer timelines and move toward a “one project, one review” framework — could enhance Canada’s appeal to energy investors and move the country closer to its ambition of becoming an “energy superpower.”

But regulatory reform alone won’t solve Canada’s deeper problem.

The discussion paper assumes that major project delays are primarily due to inefficient processes that can be corrected through administrative streamlining. That’s only partially correct.

Many of the barriers facing Canadian energy development are structural, deeply embedded in the country’s constitution, federal system, legal environment and institutional culture. These obstacles cannot simply be resolved through compressed timelines and updated procedures.

Constitutional constraints

The first challenge is constitutional and legal. Indigenous rights and the duty to consult are entrenched in Canada’s Constitution, Supreme Court rulings, modern treaties and commitments under the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.

Landmark Supreme Court decisions such as the 2004 Haida Nation v. British Columbia and the 2005 Mikisew Cree First Nation v. Canada rulings established that governments must meaningfully consult Indigenous communities when government decisions may affect asserted or established rights.

This makes Canada fundamentally different from jurisdictions like the United Kingdom or Australia, where governments face fewer constitutional constraints in fast-tracking infrastructure approval.

The federal government’s proposed One Crown Consultation Process may reduce duplication and consultation fatigue. But it doesn’t eliminate litigation risk.

The Trans Mountain pipeline expansion offers a clear warning. In 2018, the Federal Court of Appeal quashed the project’s approval because the consultation process with Indigenous communities was deemed inadequate. A project considered nationally strategic was significantly delayed not by engineering failures, but by procedural legitimacy.

The government’s fast-tracking proposals are therefore at risk of backfiring: pushing timelines too hard could slow projects down if courts keep intervening.

Canada’s federal system

The second challenge is federalism. Major energy projects in Canada require collaboration among Ottawa, provinces, municipalities and local regulators. The discussion paper assumes a level of federal-provincial co-ordination that may prove difficult in practice.

Will the federal government confront provinces that oppose nationally significant energy projects? Will Ottawa pressure British Columbia to recognize that its ports and coastal infrastructure serve national economic interests, not solely provincial ones? Will it challenge Québec’s long-standing resistance to certain pipeline and energy developments?

Provinces have several tools to delay projects through permitting processes, environmental conditions and parallel regulatory assessments. Recent history offers examples.

Energy East collapsed amid political and regulatory uncertainty. Northern Gateway was overturned through legal and political resistance. Even Trans Mountain, despite federal support, encountered significant provincial and legal barriers.

Federal efficiency isn’t enough.

Bureaucratic inertia, institutional resistance

The third challenge is institutional inertia. Research in public administration suggests institutional delays are often driven not only by formal rules, but by bureaucratic risk aversion and organizational inertia.

For almost 10 years of Liberal rule under former prime minister Justin Trudeau, the federal public service expanded significantly, with the number of employees growing by more than 40 per cent.

Large administrative systems develop their own cultures, norms and decision-making habits. For Prime Minister Mark Carney’s Liberals, the challenge is not only the size of the bureaucracy, but its ability to adjust to a different governing philosophy and priorities.

In bureaucracies, officials are often more likely to be criticized or penalized for approving a controversial project than for letting things stall. Changing laws alone doesn’t fully change that reality.

The government’s proposed solutions are structurally sound, but they assume officials will stay committed under pressure. This is where leadership matters: implementation depends on whether commitments are seen as firm or flexible.

Institutional inertia is shaped by how federal employees and officials read their leaders’ behaviour. If ministers hold firm on timelines despite pushback, officials treat them as binding; if ministers retreat or soften them, processes expand and timelines slip.

The need for committed leadership

Many of the aforementioned structural barriers cannot simply be resolved through procedural reform unless Canada undergoes far more fundamental constitutional and institutional change, which isn’t likely.

The central challenge facing Canada today is therefore not regulatory design, but leadership. Will the prime minister and Liberal officials champion these reforms if they become politically costly? Will they make decisions that may prove unpopular — particularly among voters in seat-rich provinces like Ontario, Québec and British Columbia — defend those decisions publicly and deal with the political consequences?

The government’s discussion paper is ambitious, but ambition on paper isn’t the same as execution. Reforms of this scale will face resistance from provinces, courts, advocacy groups and the bureaucracy itself. Success will depend less on design than on whether the federal government remains committed throughout implementation.

Becoming an energy superpower requires sustained political resolve, institutional drive, strength of character and the ability to stick to decisions under pressure without backing away or reframing them. Political will can create the appearance of reform; strength of character determines whether it’s actually carried out.

Short-term heat for long-term gain

For Canada’s regulatory reform to work, federal leaders need to stick to tight timelines even when faced with lawsuits and provincial pushback. Without that commitment, new bodies like the Federal Review Coordinator and Crown Consultation Hub could end up adding process rather than speeding up approvals.

As Nelson Mandela’s example shows, long-term national goals often require taking political heat in the short term.

The real question is no longer whether the problems are understood — they are — but whether the federal government has the resolve to push through resistance from provinces, the bureaucracy and political opponents.

Without that kind of sustained leadership, these proposed reforms risk becoming another set of well-meaning changes that add co-ordination but don’t meaningfully speed up energy development.

Amir Bahman Radnejad is affiliated with Canadian Global Affairs Institute

Brenda Nguyen is affiliated with the Strategic Capability Network

– ref. Beyond regulation: Why committed leadership will decide Canada’s energy future – https://theconversation.com/beyond-regulation-why-committed-leadership-will-decide-canadas-energy-future-282777

May 20, 2026

L’Ukraine comme « Ur-Heimat » : quand la guerre devient une bataille pour les origines indo-européennes

Source: The Conversation – in French – By Adrien Nonjon, Chargé de cours, Institut catholique de Paris (ICP)

*Bataille entre les Slaves et les Scythes* (1881), Viktor Vasnetsov. Le tableau a été commandé au célèbre peintre russe par un mécène afin de décorer le bâtiment des chemins de fer de la ville de Donetsk, ville ukrainienne annexée par la Russie en 2022. En réalité, aucun affrontement entre ces deux peuples ne s’est jamais produit. Musée Tretiakov, Moscou

Depuis l’invasion de l’Ukraine par la Russie en 2022, le conflit est généralement analysé à travers ses dimensions géopolitique et militaire. Mais il s’inscrit aussi dans une bataille moins visible : celle des récits des origines. Mobilisée par certaines franges des extrêmes droites russe comme ukrainienne, l’hypothèse indo-européenne alimente des imaginaires identitaires et ésotériques qui, bien que marginaux, contribuent à donner un sens plus profond – et parfois mythologique – à la guerre.

L’hypothèse indo-européenne, comme mythe politique des origines, irrigue de nombreuses factions extrêmes droitières partout en Europe. Des idéologues et des combattants impliqués dans le conflit russo-ukrainien l’utilisent, d’un côté comme de l’autre de la ligne de front, pour justifier cette guerre. Il s’agit, selon eux, d’une bataille pour l’Ur-Heimat (terme linguistique allemand signifiant littéralement « patrie originelle » et désignant le premier foyer d’une proto-langue) indo-européen, les plaines ukrainiennes étant considérées comme le berceau de la culture Yamna (Néolithique final : de 3600 à 2300 avant notre ère). Celle-ci, d’après certaines théories archéologiques, linguistiques et phylogénétiques consécutives aux travaux controversés de l’anthropologue Marija Gimbutas (1921-1994), représenterait le point d’éclosion et de diffusion d’un supposé peuple indo-européen primitif.

Depuis février 2022 et l’invasion de son territoire par la Russie, l’Ukraine n’est pas seulement devenue le théâtre d’un affrontement armé. Sous les décombres des villes bombardées et dans les steppes striées de tranchées, des fouilles archéologiques illégales conduites par l’armée russe témoignent d’une guerre qui se joue aussi dans les profondeurs du sol afin d’arracher au passé quelque chose que l’histoire officielle ne semblait plus fournir.

Si Vladimir Poutine légitime le déclenchement et la continuité de son « opération militaire spéciale » par, entre autres, la nécessité pour la Russie de réintégrer à son espace national les anciens territoires de la Rous’ de Kiev, berceau de l’orthodoxie slave orientale, le recours à l’hypothèse indo-européenne renvoie à une question identitaire plus profonde encore, touchant aux racines « ethno-raciales » de l’ensemble de l’Europe.

Plus que purement historique, cette hypothèse s’est aussi vue liée à des considérations d’ordre métaphysiques et cosmogoniques, empruntant parfois les chemins singuliers de l’ésotérisme et de l’occultisme. Bien entendu, la guerre actuelle ne saurait être uniquement expliquée par une analyse de ces considérations, qui peuvent passer pour folkloriques et marginales ; mais elles nourrissent de puissants imaginaires politiques.

Hyperborée et la question indo-européenne

L’hypothèse indo-européenne est née, au XIXᵉ siècle, de la grammaire comparée inventée par le linguiste allemand Franz Bopp, avant d’être rapidement intégrée aux perspectives racialistes et évolutionnistes de cette période. Elle a été ensuite réappropriée par les mouvements völkisch, en Allemagne et en Autriche, puis par le national-socialisme, qui l’a utilisée pour démontrer « scientifiquement » la supériorité de la « race » aryenne.

Dès cette première phase d’existence, elle a pu être mêlée à des considérations ésotériques et occultistes, en étant associée par endroits à des thèses spécifiques, comme celle de l’existence d’une « tradition primordiale » aux origines nordiques et hyperboréennes.

Dans la seconde moitié du XXᵉ siècle, la Nouvelle Droite française s’en saisit – en s’appuyant sur les travaux en mythologie comparée de Georges Dumézil – pour affirmer une unité ethnique et culturelle proprement européenne. Des courants, tels que la théorie des anciens astronautes de Robert Charroux (1909-1978), issus du réalisme fantastique, ont pu la véhiculer sous ses aspects ésotériques et pseudo-archéologiques, participant de sa diffusion dans des marges politiques.

Toutefois, la question des origines indo-européennes ne saurait être réductible, en Russie comme en Ukraine, à ces seules théories occidentales. Le mouvement slavophile pose ainsi dès 1830 les premières bases d’une réflexion sur l’identité russe, comme civilisation organique distincte de l’Occident rationnel et individualiste, où la Russie serait la gardienne d’une vérité spirituelle originelle, la sobornost’, soit une communauté organique des âmes fondée sur l’orthodoxie.

L’Ukraine impériale voit également émerger la question des origines. Des figures comme Mykhaïlo Hroushevsky (1866-1934) puisèrent dans la mythologie pour nourrir une identité culturelle vivante. Ensuite, durant l’entre-deux-guerres, l’Ukraine voit fleurir diverses tentatives de synthèses entre nationalisme ukrainien, néo-paganisme slave et références aux origines aryennes, comme celle de Volodymyr Shaïan (1908-1974), fondateur de l’Ordre des Chevaliers solaires. Selon lui, l’Ukraine incarnerait l’un des derniers bastions d’une civilisation aryenne authentique, héritière d’une sagesse védique – l’hindouisme étant considéré ici comme la dernière survivance de la tradition indo-européenne – opposée à la décadence occidentale et aux influences chrétiennes.

*L’Arbre de vie*, tableau de Viktor Krijanivskiy, peintre apprécié des adeptes des théories de Sylenko.
San zav/Wikipedia, CC BY-NC-SA

Le régime soviétique ne fait pas disparaître ces courants. Encouragés par le régime stalinien, des archéologues et préhistoriens, comme Boris Rybakov (1908-2001), construisent une archéologie nationale russo-soviétique qui, sans verser dans l’ésotérisme des origines aryennes, prépare le terrain à des instrumentalisations ultérieures par les mouvements néo-païens des années 1990.

En exil depuis 1920, Nikolaï Troubetskoï (1890-1938) mobilise ses compétences de spécialiste des langues indo-européennes pour affirmer la spécificité civilisationnelle eurasiatique, opposée à l’« égocentrisme romano-germanique » qu’il dénonce comme une forme d’ethnocentrisme déguisé en universalisme. Du côté ukrainien, Shaïan et son disciple Lev Sylenko (1921-2008) développent un système de croyances « natif » faisant de l’Ukraine « l’ancienne Oriana, berceau des Aryens ».

Au même moment, le mythe du Livre de Veles – ensemble de tablettes prétendument gravées au IX^e siècle et retraçant l’histoire des ancêtres slaves depuis leur origine aryenne jusqu’à la Rous’ de Kiev – est forgé dans le but d’attester l’antiquité de l’Ukraine et sa distinction de la Russie.

La perestroïka puis la chute de l’URSS en 1991 libèrent ces divergences accumulées. Ainsi, le mouvement nationaliste, antisémite et mystique russe Pamiat’ (« Mémoire ») constitue la première organisation à mobiliser ouvertement un imaginaire des origines slaves et aryennes mêlé d’ésotérisme orthodoxe. Cette diffusion passe aussi, par d’autres canaux plus diffus, des mouvements néo-païens russes et ukrainiens à l’hyperboréisme, porté entre autres par Aleksandr Asov (né en 1964), courant pseudo-historique qui considère le continent mythologique d’« Hyperborée » comme le foyer d’une civilisation slave arctique, ancêtre de toutes les civilisations humaines.

Tableau représentant l’Hyperborée, par le peintre russe Vsevolod Ivanov (né en 1950).
Vsevolod Ivanov/VK/Life.ru

L’ultime bataille pour l’Ur-Heimat

En Russie, Alexandre Douguine (né en 1962) a construit sa théorie politique, qui défend la nécessité de bâtir un empire s’étendant de Brest à Vladivostok, en s’appuyant notamment sur l’hypothèse indo-européenne. S’inspirant d’auteurs comme le SS Hermann Wirth, le néo-fasciste Julius Evola et l’ésotériste René Guénon, il considère que les peuples européens sont tous issus d’un même foyer originel, « Arctogaïa » (sa propre version du mythe hyperboréen), et qu’il en découlerait une « tradition primordiale » les unifiant tous – dont le reliquat le plus efficient se logerait aujourd’hui au sein des rites de l’Église orthodoxe des Vieux-croyants.

Il publie ainsi en 1993 la Théorie hyperboréenne, ouvrage qui constitue l’un des soubassements ésotériques de son projet politique. Pour lui, la modernité occidentale, représentée par l’idéal démocratique, le libéralisme social et le matérialisme philosophique, représente un risque existentiel et la corruption la plus totale de cette « tradition primordiale ». La modernité et le progressisme dénatureraient l’humanité tout en pervertissant les fondamentaux identitaires des peuples européens.

Dans une perspective eschatologique, et pour éviter l’« avènement de l’Antéchrist » (dont les germes sont, selon lui, portés par le libéralisme), Douguine considère la Russie, par son ancrage traditionaliste, comme le Kathekon (la force qui retient, précisément, l’Antéchrist). Ainsi, selon lui, la guerre en Ukraine est une nécessité tout autant identitaire – porter l’avènement des peuples slaves comme préservateurs de la « tradition primordiale » et comme condition d’émergence de l’Empire eurasiatique – que métaphysique –, car elle contribue à la destruction de l’Occident « satanique ». En réintégrant l’Ur-Heimat ukrainien à la Mère Patrie, la Russie s’assurerait ainsi une première victoire décisive dans son rôle de Kathekon, entamant dès lors un processus de retour définitif à la Tradition, vers un nouvel Âge d’Or.

Certains idéologues ukrainiens d’extrême droite ont construit, sur les mêmes fondements mythologiques, une thèse exactement opposée. Là où Douguine fait de la Russie le Kathekon aryen contre l’Occident dissolvant, ces courants mobilisent le même Ur-Heimat, les mêmes symboles hyperboréens, la même cosmologie des origines, mais pour des conclusions diamétralement opposées.

Selon eux, la Russie n’est pas, contrairement à ce qu’affirme Douguine, l’héritière de la tradition indo-européenne nordique, mais au contraire le produit d’un métissage avec les peuples turco-mongols de la steppe orientale, métissage qui l’aurait définitivement éloignée de l’héritage aryen originel. Cette thèse plonge ses racines dans une tradition intellectuelle ancienne, comme celle de Franciszek Duchinski (1816-1893), qui affirmait dans les années 1860 que les Russes n’étaient pas des Slaves mais des Touraniens – ensemble de peuples turciques et finno-ougriens –, ou encore dans les travaux de l’école anthropologique ukrainienne du XIXᵉ siècle, notamment ceux de Fedir Vovk (1847-1918).

C’est sur ce soubassement historique et pseudo-scientifique que les idéologues ukrainiens radicaux contemporains proches de partis et mouvements, tels Patriote d’Ukraine ou Assemblée sociale-nationale, construisirent leur inversion du schéma douguiniste. La Russie y est décrite comme un empire de la steppe orientale, héritier de la Horde d’or, dont l’expansion vers l’ouest représente la même menace existentielle que les invasions mongoles médiévales. En résistant, l’Ukraine ne défend pas seulement son territoire national, elle défend la frontière de l’Ur-Heimat aryen contre son occupation par la Horde.

Traductions du mythe

Loin d’être confinées à ces seules marges politiques et philosophiques, ces théories s’inscrivent dans une multitude de variations sur le champ de bataille, qu’il soit idéologique ou militaire.

Emblème du groupe d’extrême droite russe Roussitch, présent sur le front ukrainien aux côtés des séparatistes pro-russes dès 2014.
Wikimedia, CC BY

En effet, l’une des caractéristiques les plus troublantes du conflit russo-ukrainien est précisément la porosité des discours et leurs syncrétismes. On peut ainsi observer un glissement jusque dans les discours de Vladimir Poutine lui-même. Le président russe mobilise un argument d’antériorité historique et ethnique qui, sans verser dans le vocabulaire explicitement aryen, repose, à travers les références à la Rous’, sur la même logique fondamentale des origines communes et de l’héritage indivis.

Ce récit opère exactement à l’échelle de l’histoire médiévale ce que la cosmologie douguinienne opère à l’échelle de la préhistoire indo-européenne : il postule une unité originelle trahie par la modernité, dont la guerre est la restauration violente et nécessaire. L’Église orthodoxe russe obéit au même schéma narratif. Le patriarche Kirill a présenté la guerre en Ukraine, dès les premières semaines qui ont suivi l’invasion, comme une « guerre sainte » contre la décadence morale occidentale.

Sur le terrain militaire proprement dit, l’empreinte idéologique est visible dans la composition, les pratiques et les symboles de certaines unités combattantes russes et ukrainiennes, qui constituent un observatoire privilégié de la façon dont les imaginaires ésotériques des origines se traduisent en motivations combattantes et en identités guerrières. Les bataillons de volontaires qui ont afflué vers les deux côtés du front, dès 2014, puis en masse après février 2022 forment un spectre idéologique d’une grande diversité, mais dont les franges les plus radicales témoignent d’une continuité troublante avec les imaginaires que nous avons examinés.

Emblème du bataillon ukrainien Azov.
Wikimédia, CC BY

Nombreux sont ainsi, du côté ukrainien, mais aussi du côté russe, les combattants qui arborent ouvertement des symboles SS, des tatouages runiques et des références à l’ésotérisme aryen illustrant la présence de courants qui voient dans le conflit une bataille pour la défense ou la reconquête du foyer hyperboréen, de l’Ur-Heimat.

Il convient cependant de ne pas surestimer la cohérence idéologique de ces positionnements. Dans bien des cas, les prises de position des droites radicales sur la guerre en Ukraine ont été déterminées moins par une réflexion sur l’hypothèse indo-européenne que par des calculs politiques immédiats, des allégeances géopolitiques préexistantes, des financements et des intérêts matériels qui n’ont rien de métaphysique. Elles restent cependant le témoignage d’une crise ambiante où les métarécits refont leur apparition.

Cet article a été co-rédigé avec Cédric Lévêque, docteur en anthropologie sociale, et Thibault Brice, étudiant en master de philosophie analytique (Université de Genève), co-fondateurs de la revue Cosmos.

Adrien Nonjon ne travaille pas, ne conseille pas, ne possède pas de parts, ne reçoit pas de fonds d’une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n’a déclaré aucune autre affiliation que son organisme de recherche.

– ref. L’Ukraine comme « Ur-Heimat » : quand la guerre devient une bataille pour les origines indo-européennes – https://theconversation.com/lukraine-comme-ur-heimat-quand-la-guerre-devient-une-bataille-pour-les-origines-indo-europeennes-281940

May 20, 2026

Africa Forward : changer le nom du sommet France-Afrique peut-il changer l’image de la France en Afrique ?

Source: The Conversation – in French – By Fabrice Lollia, Docteur en sciences de l’information et de la communication, chercheur associé laboratoire DICEN Ile de France, Université Gustave Eiffel

Co-organisé par la France et le Kenya à Nairobi les 11 et 12 mai 2026, le sommet France-Afrique se présente comme un rendez-vous consacré aux partenariats entre l’Afrique et la France pour l’innovation et la croissance. Il affiche l’ambition de renouveler les relations entre la France et les pays africains.

Cette année, le sommet Afrique-France adopte un nouveau nom : Africa Forward. Il se tient aussi dans un nouveau lieu et s’accompagne d’un nouveau récit. Ce changement traduit une volonté de renouveler la communication diplomatique française en Afrique. Mais une perception ne se transforme pas par le vocabulaire seul. Elle dépend aussi de la cohérence entre les mots, les actes et la mémoire des relations passées.

À première vue, il pourrait s’agir d’un simple changement d’appellation. Le traditionnel sommet France-Afrique, devenu Afrique-France, adopte désormais un nom anglophone : Africa Forward. Pourtant, en Sciences de l’information et de la communication (SIC), un changement de nom n’est jamais neutre. Il ne modifie pas seulement une étiquette ; il propose un nouveau cadre d’interprétation.

Le terme Forward projette une image de mouvement, d’avenir et de croissance. Il suggère que l’Afrique avance, et que la France entend s’inscrire dans cette dynamique plutôt que l’organiser depuis une position centrale.

Mais ce rebranding peut-il réellement transformer les perceptions de la France en Afrique francophone ? Ou risque-t-il d’être perçu comme un ajustement plus sémantique que substantiel ?

En tant que chercheur en Sciences de l’information et de la communication ayant étudié les dynamiques informationnelles, les récits d’influence et les vulnérabilités numériques en Afrique et dans l’océan Indien , j’analyse ici Africa Forward comme une tentative de recadrage narratif de la relation franco-africaine, dans un contexte de concurrence accrue des récits d’influence.

Un rebranding comme mise en scène du renouvellement

L’ancien imaginaire du sommet France-Afrique reste fortement marqué par l’histoire postcoloniale. Même lorsque les formats diplomatiques ont évolué, cette appellation continue de renvoyer, dans de nombreux espaces politiques et médiatiques africains, à une relation perçue comme asymétrique entre la France et ses anciennes colonies. Elle évoque aussi la mémoire de la Françafrique, associée à des relations politiques, économiques, militaires et symboliques longtemps jugées opaques et verticales.

C’est ce cadre qu’Africa Forward cherche à déplacer. Le mot « France » disparaît du premier plan, l’Afrique est placée au centre, et le terme anglais Forward introduit une idée de projection, de modernité et d’élan collectif. Le changement ne se limite donc pas à une nouvelle appellation : il reconfigure la scène d’énonciation. L’Afrique est présentée comme sujet du mouvement, tandis que la France semble vouloir s’inscrire dans cette dynamique plutôt que l’organiser depuis une position centrale.

Dans cette perspective, Africa Forward peut être analysé comme une mise en scène diplomatique du renouvellement. Le sommet ne se contente pas d’annoncer une nouvelle relation ; il cherche à la rendre visible. Le nom anglais, le choix de Nairobi, la valorisation de l’innovation, de la jeunesse, des diasporas, des entrepreneurs et des investisseurs composent une scénographie précise d’une Afrique en mouvement, à laquelle la France entend désormais s’associer.

Organiser ce sommet au Kenya, pays anglophone et extérieur à l’ancien espace colonial français, permet de rompre symboliquement avec le tête-à-tête entre la France et l’Afrique francophone. Cette géographie du sommet constitue déjà un message. La France cherche à ne plus être perçue seulement comme une puissance liée à son passé colonial, mais comme un partenaire parmi d’autres dans une Afrique continentale, multipolaire et tournée vers les marchés mondiaux.

Le rebranding comme opération de recadrage narratif

D’après les sciences de l’information et de la communication, Africa Forward peut être analysé comme une opération de recadrage narratif. Il ne s’agit pas seulement de changer le nom d’un sommet, mais de modifier le cadre dans lequel la relation franco-africaine doit être comprise.

Ce rebranding opère trois déplacements. Le premier est temporel : le terme Forward substitue à la mémoire du passé un imaginaire d’avenir, d’innovation et de croissance. Le deuxième est symbolique : l’Afrique est placée au centre du nom et devient, au moins dans le discours, le sujet principal du mouvement. Le troisième est économique : la relation est moins formulée dans le registre de l’aide que dans celui du partenariat, de l’investissement, de l’entrepreneuriat et du financement privé.

Ce glissement permet à la France de s’adresser à de nouveaux publics : entrepreneurs, investisseurs, diasporas, jeunes leaders, acteurs culturels et sociétés civiles. La relation n’est donc plus seulement diplomatique. Elle devient aussi communicationnelle, économique, culturelle et aussi générationnelle.

Mais ce recadrage intervient dans un contexte de fragilisation de l’image française en Afrique, marqué par les critiques contre la présence militaire française, les retraits du Sahel, les recompositions géopolitiques et la montée de discours souverainistes. Africa Forward peut être ainsi interprété comme une tentative de réparation réputationnelle en ce sens qu’il ne s’agit pas seulement de parler d’innovation ou d’investissement, mais aussi de reconstruire une légitimité.

C’est ici que la communication institutionnelle rencontre sa limite. Un nouveau récit peut proposer une image renouvelée, mais sa crédibilité dépend de la cohérence entre les énoncés affichés et les pratiques effectivement observables.

Les perceptions ne changent pas par décret

Un rebranding ne produit pas mécaniquement l’adhésion. Il propose un cadre, mais sa réception dépend de la crédibilité de l’émetteur, de la cohérence entre les mots et les actes, de la mémoire collective, des expériences vécues et des récits concurrents.

Africa Forward peut ainsi être reçu de deux manières. Il peut apparaître comme le signe d’un renouvellement réel si le sommet débouche sur des engagements concrets, co-construits et visibles pour les acteurs africains. Mais il peut aussi être perçu comme une opération essentiellement sémantique si les pratiques restent jugées verticales, asymétriques ou guidées d’abord par les intérêts français.

Ce changement de nom s’inscrit donc dans une bataille plus large des récits d’influence en Afrique. La France n’est plus seule à produire un récit sur l’Afrique. Le continent est désormais traversé par une concurrence accrue entre puissances extérieures — Chine, Russie, Turquie, pays du Golfe, Inde, États-Unis — tandis que les acteurs africains, les médias locaux et les plateformes numériques contribuent eux aussi à produire des récits de souveraineté, d’émergence et de puissance.

Dans ce contexte, la communication diplomatique française ne peut plus fonctionner comme un récit dominant. Elle devient un récit parmi d’autres, exposé à la comparaison, à la critique et à la contestation. L’enjeu d’Africa Forward n’est donc pas seulement diplomatique. Il est informationnel. Il concerne la capacité de la France à produire un récit crédible dans un espace africain attentif aux signes de respect, de réciprocité et de souveraineté.

Changer de nom ne suffit pas

Le rebranding d’un sommet peut être utile. Il peut marquer une rupture, ouvrir une nouvelle séquence et donner un signal politique. À cet égard, Africa Forward est plus qu’un simple changement de façade . Il traduit la volonté de sortir d’un imaginaire usé et d’inscrire la France dans une Afrique pensée comme partenaire, marché, puissance démographique et acteur géopolitique.

Mais ce changement restera fragile s’il n’est pas accompagné d’une transformation des pratiques. Pour être crédible, Africa Forward devra démontrer que l’Afrique n’est pas seulement placée au début du nom, mais aussi au centre du processus décisionnel. Il devra montrer que la jeunesse, les entrepreneurs, les sociétés civiles et les diasporas ne sont pas seulement convoqués comme symboles de modernité, mais reconnus comme acteurs réels de la relation.

L’enjeu ne se limitera donc pas à la visibilité médiatique du sommet de Nairobi. Il se mesurera dans la durée à travers le suivi des engagements, l’équilibre des partenariats, l’écoute des perceptions africaines et la capacité de la France à inscrire son action dans un récit partagé.

Fabrice Lollia 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. Africa Forward : changer le nom du sommet France-Afrique peut-il changer l’image de la France en Afrique ? – https://theconversation.com/africa-forward-changer-le-nom-du-sommet-france-afrique-peut-il-changer-limage-de-la-france-en-afrique-282870