As a professor of pre-Raphaelite studies, I was excited to see that the track list for Taylor Swift’s 12th album, The Life of a Showgirl includes a song called The Fate of Ophelia. Ahead of the album’s release, fans and art historians speculated that the inspiration could come from John Everett Millais’s painting Ophelia (1851-52), one of the most visited paintings at Tate Britain.
The painting shows Ophelia, the heroine of Shakespeare’s play Hamlet (1623), floating in the river after her doomed relationship had driven her to madness and suicide.
The cover art for The Life of a Showgirl confirms this. It shows Swift wearing a silvery outfit, partially submerged in water with her hands floating palm-up to the surface. So far, so Everett Millais. Though the styling is very different from Millais’s work, the pose, with focus on her hands and face, seemed to give a nod to his Ophelia.
Ophelia by John Everett Millais (1851-52). Tate Britain
The model who posed for Millais’s painting, Elizabeth Siddal (who is buried in Highgate, near where Swift once lived) lay in a bathtub while he painted her. When the candles heating the water went out, she stayed there for hours, uncomplaining, until she became ill.
As a muse and model, Siddal exemplifies the woman silenced by and sacrificed to male artistic ambition. Swift’s cover transforms the corpse-like Ophelia into a striking image, with her eyes open and staring, as though a dead woman has come back to life to accuse us. The female figure is no longer a muse (or a showgirl).
Siddal was interested in similar themes. In her poem My Lady’s Soul, she wrote about a woman transformed through death into art:
Low sit I down at my lady’s feet
Gazing through her wild eyes,
Smiling to think how my love will fleet
When their starlike beauty dies
The woman in the poem may be silenced, but her eyes accuse us of objectification.
The song’s conceit is that a happy relationship has saved the singer from Ophelia’s fate of madness and drowning. Swift has said told interviewers that she prefers a happy ending, having rewritten Romeo and Juliet in Love Story (2008), and The Fate of Ophelia is quite detailed in its references to Hamlet: “The eldest daughter of a nobleman / Ophelia lived in fantasy / But love was a cold bed full of scorpions / The venom stole her sanity.”
The Fate of Ophelia is the first track on Swift’s new album, The Life of a Showgirl.
The chorus goes: “All that time / I sat alone in my tower / You were just honing your powers / Now I can see it all. / Late one night / You dug me out of my grave and / Saved my heart from the fate of Ophelia.”
Alone in a tower, waiting for a prince to come? That sounds like some other Shakespearean or pre-Raphaelite heroines, such as Mariana, from Shakespeare’s play Measure for Measure (1604) who was reinterpreted by the poet Alfred Tennyson in 1832. Millais painted Mariana in 1851. The speaker in Swift’s song, however, has been saved from death: “You dug me out of my grave.”
There are all kinds of interesting resurrection metaphors in the song: was Swift already dead, then? Is this about Ophelia, buried with partial rites due to the suspicion that she killed herself? Or is this about Siddal, the muse and model whose body was exhumed by her husband?
When Siddal died by overdose of laudanum (an opiate many Victorians were addicted to since it was prescribed for many illnesses) in 1862, she was buried at Highgate cemetery. Her grief-stricken (or guilt-ridden) husband Dante Gabriel Rossetti threw his manuscript poems into her coffin. Seven years later, the coffin was exhumed in order to restore the manuscripts to Rossetti for publication.
The myths exploded from that point. Charles Augustus Howell, the unscrupulous friend of Rossetti who oversaw the exhumation, claimed that Siddel’s body was perfectly preserved, her hair had continued growing in her coffin and – as Rossetti wrote to Swinburne in a letter dated October 16 1869 – he believed that “could she have opened the grave, no other hand would have been needed”.
In her reworking of the Ophelia and Siddal story, Swift undermines the stereotype of the mute, decorative showgirl by overlaying it with her own more triumphant ending.
In isolation, Swift’s conflation of Siddal, Ophelia and her own persona isn’t necessarily that progressive: after all, the song features a woman waiting for someone to save her. However, taken in conjunction with the rest of the album, it’s clear that Swift’s approach is to explore the public face of women, from Elizabeth Taylor (reminiscent of Clara Bow from her last album) to Eldest Daughter, and culminating in the title track, which indicates the pain behind the facade of a public figure, “hidden by the lipstick and lace”.
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Serena Trowbridge does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Source: The Conversation – UK – By Neil Loughlin, Lecturer in Comparative Politics, City St George’s, University of London
Paetongtarn Shinawatra walks with her father and prominent Thai political figure, Thaksin Shinawatra, before her endorsement as Thailand’s prime minister in 2024.SPhotograph / Shutterstock
Dynasties are central to south-east Asian politics as parties are weak, patronage is entrenched and family names are the most durable political brands. But they also face persistent difficulties. Heirs inherit office without real authority, patriarchs refuse to step aside and rivals – whether other families or powerful institutions – intervene.
With two prominent political families locked in a bitter feud in the Philippines, the Shinawatra clan currently being sidelined in Thailand and the Hun family navigating an uncertain succession in Cambodia, now is the right moment to take stock of how dynastic politics operates throughout south-east Asia.
The Philippines offers perhaps the starkest example of dynastic democracy in south-east Asia. Philippine politics remains structured less by parties or programmes than by family blocs, with the Marcos and Duterte clans foremost among them. Coalitions rest on name recognition and patronage networks that have proved more durable than any formal party institution.
The Philippine system remains fiercely competitive. But dynastic politics there narrows true democratic representation and weakens accountability. It also leaves coalitions prone to fracture. The alliance between the Marcos and Duterte families that swept the 2022 elections, for example, cracked almost immediately.
The current Philippine vice-president, Sara Duterte, is now in open conflict with President Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr – the son and namesake of the former Philippine dictator who was ousted in 1986. This rupture has unsettled government.
Sara Duterte has faced impeachment efforts, which have been blocked by a supreme court shaped by the appointees of her father, Rodrigo Duterte, who was president between 2016 and 2022. At the same time, she is positioning herself as a leading contender for the 2028 presidency.
Indonesia’s newer democracy tells another – albeit relatively similar – story. Since democratisation in 1998, decentralisation and local elections have opened routes from local to national office. Families have used party nominations, money, media and entrenched networks to turn those routes into political power. Dynastic manoeuvring now sits at the centre of national and local Indonesian politics.
Gibran Rakabuming Raka, the son of former president Joko “Jokowi” Widodo, reached Indonesia’s vice-presidency in 2024 after a controversial constitutional court ruling reduced the age requirement for candidacy. The chief justice at the time was Jokowi’s brother-in-law, Anwar Usman.
Puan Maharani, meanwhile, the daughter of former Indonesian president Megawati Sukarnoputri, continues to climb within the Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle. Figures linked to the family of Indonesia’s last authoritarian leader, Suharto, have also edged back into parliament.
Public unease with hereditary politics in Indonesia has been visible on the streets. Protests in 2024 and wider demonstrations in 2025 have taken place over lawmakers’ perks, cost-of-living pressures and police violence. Much of this anger reflects the trajectory of post-Suharto Indonesia.
The first democratic generation has given way to heirs and wealthy businessmen, steeped in money politics and dependent on patronage. The result has been a crowded system where multiple families compete for leverage. These rivalries make governing alliances unstable and contribute to recurring unrest.
More authoritarian dynasties
Thailand and Cambodia show how dynasties function under less democratic conditions. In Thailand, parties aligned with the Shinawatra family have played a major role in the country’s politics since 2001. Yet governments linked to the family have been routinely constrained or overturned by Thailand’s conservative royalist-military establishment.
The brief premiership of Paetongtarn Shinawatra underscores this point. She took office in 2024 after Pheu Thai, the party founded by her father Thaksin, struck a governing pact with the establishment. This followed an election the previous year, in which the reformist Move Forward party won the most seats but was blocked from taking power by the military-appointed Senate.
However, Paetongtarn was swiftly removed once her actions touched sensitive power balances. A leaked recording of Paetongtarn’s private conversation with former Cambodian prime minister Hun Sen, where she criticised a senior Thai military general, ultimately proved her downfall. The episode reaffirmed that Thailand’s monarchy-military-judicial alliance ultimately calls the shots.
Cambodia illustrates a different dynamic. Prime minister for decades, Hun Sen built a durable coalition of political, economic and security elites, sustained by the brutal suppression of dissent and generous rewards for loyalists. Now the ageing patriarch is attempting to secure his family’s dominance into the next generation.
He installed his son Hun Manet as prime minister in 2023. At the same time, the children and relatives of other long-serving ministers were also promoted. In some cases they even took over their fathers’ portfolios directly.
In Cambodia, where power has long been concentrated in one leader, any transition of rule is likely to be fraught. In autocratic regimes, handovers can create coordination problems and fears of exclusion or retribution among government, military and religious elites. Dynastic succession can reassure these people.
However, Hun Sen and other patriarchs such as Tea Banh and Sar Kheng are still playing prominent roles even as their heirs occupy formal positions. They continue to issue orders and lead diplomacy, undermining the credibility of their children.
The reemergence of Hun Sen as Cambodia’s decisive political voice during the recent border conflict with Thailand, for example, raises doubts about Manet’s readiness for the top job.
The recent border crisis with Thailand shows that it is Hun Sen that still calls the shots in Cambodia. Seth Akmal / Shutterstock
Dynasties endure in south-east Asia because they thrive in environments where institutions are weak, parties are underdeveloped and patronage is the main currency of politics. Family names provide continuity that other political structures often cannot.
But dynasties also struggle. Heirs may lack the authority, charisma or networks of their predecessors. Older patriarchs and matriarchs often remain active, limiting renewal. And rival families compete fiercely for power, which can fragment coalitions and unsettle governments.
In the Philippines and Indonesia, two electoral democracies, politics is shaped by bargains among dominant families. This raises doubts about the depth of democratic competition. In Thailand and Cambodia, politics is more tightly controlled. Dynasties there expose the fragility of succession and the limits imposed by entrenched power centres.
Across south-east Asia, dynasties still shape how power is acquired and passed on. But they do not resolve the uncertainties of rule. The only constant seems to be that authority remains concentrated among elites and shifts only within their ranks.
Neil Loughlin does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Source: The Conversation – UK – By Ben Garrod, Professor of Evolutionary Biology and Science Engagement, University of East Anglia
The pant-hoot of a chimpanzee is one of the most visceral sounds in nature – a rolling call that rises to a crescendo. I once heard the call cutting through the heavy silence of the evening air. The cacophony trailed off and ended with the two apes patting one another, in reassurance and reconciliation.
Unlike most chimpanzee hoots performed in dense African forests, the echoes of this one bounced off the towering sandstone pillars of a cathedral. There were no chimpanzees in sight, just two humans in front of an audience of hundreds, at a science festival. As my heart rate returned to normal, I sat back down to resume my interview with the legendary Dr Jane Goodall.
News of her death, at the age of 91, is being felt around the globe. The grief is both personal and collective. For countless biologists, naturalists, conservationists and animal-lovers, she was a constant presence – a guiding light who shifted how we see the natural world and our place in it.
Having progressed from a secretarial course straight into a doctorate at Cambridge, Jane was no stranger to facing challenges head on. She lived in a tent in rural Tanzania, accompanied by her incredibly supportive mother, to study the behaviour of wild chimpanzees.
Her mentor was the renowned anthropologist Louis Leakey, who believed invaluable insights into our own evolutionary history could be gleaned from the study of orangutans, gorillas and chimpanzees. Many doubted her methods, but Jane was the first to record detailed evidence of hunting and even tool use in chimpanzees. Her groundbreaking work paved the way for identifying culture in non-human animals and, more importantly, helped shatter assumptions about the divide between humans and animals.
Following in her footsteps
Jane changed the way we view and understand animals and hundreds, if not thousands, of academics have followed in her footsteps to carry on and further her work. Many of us academics see the world in a laser focus singularity, at times. It’s what we are trained to do and is often seen as a gold standard. But Jane was always a fan of the wider picture, a more holistic approach. She left active academia to focus on protecting her beloved chimpanzees through community-driven conservation and education.
She took on the seemingly impossible task to engage, support and empower children and young people around the world, setting up “Roots & Shoots” programme through the Jane Goodall Institute. It’s now active in more than 100 countries, with millions of young people having taken part. Her aim was simple but radical: to empower the next generation to act with compassion and knowledge, whatever path they chose.
Moving between worlds
What made Jane extraordinary was not just her science, but her voice. She forged a path in that very grey area between high-level science, political discourse and public engagement. She was plain-speaking and never lacked integrity. She was a calm and trusted voice in a clamouring crowd of increasingly lying politicians and clickbait influencers. Jane brought science, conservation and advocacy to the millions.
She made us all part of the dialogue and equipped us, through patient and diligent explanation, to be able to contribute meaningfully. Her work and her approach meant no one was excluded from having a voice or be unable to offer ideas, advice or solutions. We are rarely very good at doing that in science, but Jane made it her modus operandi. Her calm and trusted voice brought often complex and emotive scientific concepts and challenges to a level where we could all become stakeholders. She made us realise that our actions had global impacts and that what happens across the world can affect us all.
The fact she was so at ease being met by world leaders, sitting on the couch on prime time entertainment shows, in academic conferences or in rural schools in the global south, demonstrated a skill and ability to engage with us all. If we had even a few more voices like Jane’s, perhaps there wouldn’t be such a disconnect between science and society.
There will be countless ways we can carry on with Jane’s legacy, but one of the most powerful is to encourage more of us to make science accessible for all of us. One of her most poignant quotes was: “What do you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.” We can only make the differences we need to make if we are more compassionate and better scientifically informed.
Ben Garrod 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.
John le Carré was a master of the spy novel – not by glamorising espionage, but by stripping it of illusion. His stories abandoned the trope of the suave, heartless agent in favour of morally complex characters navigating the shadowy ethics of Cold War intelligence. Gritty, ambiguous and deeply human, his thrillers elevated the spy genre to literary art.
Much of that authenticity came from le Carré’s own experience in British counterintelligence with MI5. But as a new exhibition at Oxford’s Bodleian libraries reveals, his success was just as rooted in painstaking research, interviews and relentless editing.
John le Carré: Tradecraft offers a rare look into the creative process behind nine of his novels. On display are early character sketches, field notes, photographs, handwritten drafts and personal correspondence – many shown publicly for the first time.
Though some critics accused le Carré of becoming too political in his later years, the exhibition suggests that conscience was always central to his work. He consistently interrogated the global systems that enable corruption, reward self-interest and erode the freedoms promised by democratic societies.
As co-curator Jessica Douthwaite writes, this exhibition exposes “a worldview borne out in the idiosyncrasies of his factual research, acute observations, obsession with accuracy, compulsion to travel, and interest in the humans behind the news events”.
At London’s National Theatre, newly appointed director Indhu Rubasingham launches her tenure with a daring production: Nima Taleghani’s radical reimagining of Euripides’s Bacchae.
The ancient tragedy centres on King Pentheus of Thebes, who is punished by his cousin Dionysus (god of wine, ritual madness and theatre) for denying his divine status. In vengeance, Dionysus drives the women of Thebes, including Pentheus’s own mother, into ecstatic madness. They flee to the mountains to join Dionysus’s followers, the Bacchae, and chaos unfolds as Pentheus attempts to bring them back.
As performing arts critic Will Shüler observes, Greek tragedies have always been a mirror of their times – and this adaptation is no exception. Taleghani weaves in themes of decolonisation, feminism, race, LGBTQ+ identity and war, giving this ancient myth a modern political pulse. While occasionally heavy handed, it’s a bold, imaginative and thought-provoking debut for Rubasingham’s directorship.
Bacchae is at the National Theatre until November 1 2025.
Few historical figures have become so synonymous with Dionysian opulence and excess quite like France’s last queen, Marie Antoinette. Branded “Madame Déficit” and vilified for her extravagant lifestyle, she met a violent end during the French Revolution.
Yet modern research has revealed that much of this reputation was unfairly earned. Still, the myth endures.
A new exhibition at the V&A South Kensington, Marie Antoinette Style, aims to unpack that legacy – reframing the queen not as a frivolous spendthrift, but as a complex cultural icon with a keen eye for art and fashion.
“The exhibition confidently places Marie Antoinette not as an exuberant and frivolous monarch, as she is so often seen, but as an intentional, frequently playful, and decidedly modern patron of the arts,” writes reviewer and fashion historian Serena Dyer.
With most of her wardrobe destroyed by revolutionaries, the exhibition turns to creative means: showcasing dresses, furnishings, and glassware inspired by her influence. A few rare personal items do remain – a delicate shoe, fragments of a torn dress – offering glimpses of the refined taste behind the legend.
In Edinburgh’s Inverleigh House in the Royal Botanic Garden you can catch the first retrospective of the trailblazing artist, Linder. Spanning 50 years, Danger Came Smiling connects with its location as it dives into her fascination with plants.
The photomontages on show remix images from popular culture, ranging from early pin-up photography to house plants, to invite onlookers to challenge societal norms around gender and sexuality. It is a vibrant and transgressive show that is at once joyful and punk, in true Linder style.
Danger Came Smiling is on at Inverleigh House, the Royal Botanic Garden, Edinburgh, until October 19, and then transfers to the Glynn Vivian Art Gallery, Swansea, in November 2025.
With rain and gale-force winds sweeping across much of the UK this weekend, staying in might be your best bet. Why not spend it exploring some of the most iconic presidential appearances and opening monologues in American late-night TV history?
The recent cancellation of Jimmy Kimmel Live! — following controversial remarks by Kimmel that reportedly upset the president — has sparked renewed debate around free speech, state interference and censorship in the US. It’s also drawn global attention to the uniquely American tradition of late-night television.
Mocking presidents has long been a hallmark of the genre. In this piece, media expert Faye Davies traces the evolution of the opening monologue as a platform for social commentary and political satire. Many unforgettable moments are available on YouTube – from Richard Nixon’s appearance on The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson to Bill Clinton’s saxophone solo on The Arsenio Hall Show, trying hard to sell his cool factor and win votes.
Looking for something good? Cut through the noise with a carefully curated selection of the latest releases, live events and exhibitions, straight to your inbox every fortnight, on Fridays. Sign up here.
Source: The Conversation – UK – By Julian Hargreaves, Senior Lecturer, Department of Sociology and Criminology, City St George’s, University of London
A man believed to be Jihad Al-Shamie, a 35-year-old British citizen born in Syria, has been shot dead by police after launching an attack on a synagogue in Manchester on Yom Kippur, the holiest day in the Jewish calendar. Melvin Cravitz, 66, and Adrian Daulby, 55, died in the attack – one having been accidentally shot by police trying to stop the suspect.
According to BBC News, a member of the public called the police at 9:31am to report the incident. Greater Manchester Police deployed firearms officers to the scene at 9:34am. At 9:38am officers declared “Operation Plato” – a code word used by UK emergency services for a marauding terrorist attacker. At 9:39am, armed counter terrorism police officers, shot and killed Al-Shamie who died at the scene. Counter terrorism police later confirmed the attacked as a “terrorist incident”.
Within hours, it had become clear that many foresaw such an attack. The Financial Times reported comments from Marc Levy, chief executive of the Jewish Representative Council, a body representing Jewish communities in Greater Manchester. Levy described the events as “an inevitability”.
The Board of Deputies of British Jews, a national body representing Jewish communities across the UK, described the attack as “sadly something we feared was coming”.
The Jewish Chronicle, a Jewish interest newspaper, reported that staff at the London Centre for the Study of Contemporary Antisemitism were “shocked but not surprised”.
Recent research by the thinktank Antisemitism Policy Trust analysed demonstrations against the war in Gaza. It found public expressions of anti-Jewish hatred alongside more legitimate pro-Palestinian and anti-Israeli government sentiment, including Arabic chants referencing the massacre of Jews in 628BC.
The Community Security Trust, an organisation serving and protecting Jewish communities, records and reports antisemitic incidents in the UK. In 2023, the CST recorded 4,296 incidents – the largest number in a single year. CST used previous lower annual totals to explain how antisemitism is now fuelled by responses to the October 7 Hamas attacks: 1,684 incidents in 2020, 2,261 in 2021 and 1,662 in 2022.
The CST works carefully to investigate and verify all reports of antisemitism. While their work is entirely robust, it cannot easily reveal whether the dramatic rise in incidents reflects growing antisemitic sentiment, or increases in the reporting of antisemitic incidents to the CST, or both.
According to Home Office figures, religious hate crime against Jewish people more than doubled between the years ending March 2023 to March 2024. In 2022-23, there were 1,543 incidents recorded by the police. In 2023-24, there were 3,282.
While the number of incidents is lower than those against Muslim people – 3,432 in 2022-23 and 3,866 in 2023-24 – Jewish people are more likely to suffer religious hate crime. There were 121 incidents for every 10,000 Jewish in England and Wales compared to 10 incidents for every 10,000 Muslim people.
The same caveats apply here. We cannot know whether these increases represent growing hostility towards Jewish people in the UK or more Jewish people reporting hostility to the police. This issue is further complicated by the fact that police-recorded crime is no longer regarded as meeting the standard required of reliable national statistics due to poorly managed recording practices.
How widespread is antisemitism in the UK?
In 2017, the Institute for Jewish Policy Research (JPR) published what is arguably the most robust mapping of antisemitism in the UK. It estimated the extent of anti-Jewish attitudes using a nationally representative survey.
The JPR found that around 2% of the UK population might be labelled as “hardcore” antisemites and a further 3% as “softer” antisemites on the basis that both groups hold multiple antisemitic ideas. It also found that at least one more antisemitic idea is held by 30% of British society.
It is difficult to say with clarity whether or not antisemitism is rising in the UK, mainly because police statistics are so unreliable. But when terrorist attacks occur, we seek to understand what has happened and reach for robust information. This creates an urgent need for fresh research with better police data and more recent crime data.
Regardless of all this, findings from the JPR show that while strong antisemitism remains relatively uncommon in the UK, the odds of Jewish people encountering neighbours with at least one antisemitic idea remains worryingly high. Small wonder then that so many felt this attack was just a matter of time.
Julian Hargreaves does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
A SEPTA train moves along the Market-Frankford Line in West Philadelphia.AP Photo/Matt Rourke
On April 13, 1967, around 1:30 p.m., Lt. Joseph Larkin of the Philadelphia Police Department’s subway unit visited the Philadelphia High School for Girls to interview the school’s librarian, 61-year-old Miriam S. Axelrod.
Axelrod had written a letter to Mayor James H.J. Tate about poor conditions on Philadelphia’s Broad Street Line subway. In her letter, she stated that the escalators in the subway concourse of the Walnut-Locust station were out of operation for several weeks and requested that they “be put in running order.”
Axelrod also asked that “something be done” about people using the subway stairs “as a latrine.”
As a historian of post-1968 Philadelphia, a proud alumna of Girls’ High and a rider of Philadelphia’s mass transit, Southeastern Pennsylvania Transportation Authority – more commonly known as SEPTA – I was thrilled to find Axelrod’s story among 1960s administrative reports to the police commissioner in the city archives.
Axelrod’s story reminds us that for nearly a century, Philadelphia’s mass transit has been plagued by poor conditions and unstable funding. Commuters’ complaints have often convinced government officials to act. However, no effective plan has ever been implemented to definitively solve the city’s transit crises.
SEPTA’s current turmoil
On Sept. 15, 2025, SEPTA fully restored its service, by court order, after implementing 20% service reductions and a 21.5% fare increase due to a US$213 million budget deficit.
Passengers at Olney Transportation Center in North Philadelphia board a SEPTA bus on Aug. 25, 2025, a day after major service cuts went into effect. AP Photo/Matt Rourke
Some lawmakers have argued that SEPTA is guilty of mismanaging funds, since the agency already received over $1 billion in state subsidies last year for operating assistance and asset improvement.
Public transport in the 1920s
As a longtime Philadelphian who lived in Center City, Miriam Axelrod was familiar with the strengths and shortcomings of public transportation.
At the age of 4, her family emigrated from Russia to Carmel, New Jersey. By 1920, they made Philadelphia their home just as the city’s Russian community became the largest immigrant group due to Jewish people escaping pogroms in Europe. Axelrod grew up living in South and North Philadelphia.
At that time, dozens of private transit companies operated in Philly.
Southern Penn operated city buses. Red Arrow provided suburban trolley service. Pennsylvania and Reading railroads offered high-speed rail lines. The Philadelphia Rapid Transit Co. alone brokered deals with 64 underlying companies to annually rent their services under 999-year leases. Fiscal responsibility for quality transportation was complicated and often dependent on public funding.
During PRT’s early years, it paid the city $15,000 annually for snow removal. In return, the city spent $2 million for street paving and bridge repairs.
That was the same year Axelrod graduated from William Penn High School for Girls. Her classmates keenly noted in their yearbook that she had a “remarkable capacity for starting arguments” in which “any debatable subject will do.”
Six years later, the first segment of the Broad Street Subway traveling from Olney Station in North Philadelphia to City Hall opened to the public. Unlike the bus, trolley and railways systems, the city owned the El, short for elevated, line and subway. The city leased both systems to PRT and made the transit company responsible for their maintenance.
On Jan. 1, 1940, the Philadelphia Transportation Co., a private company with a 21-member board of directors that included five city representatives including the mayor, Robert E. Lamberton, merged the transit companies and took over PRT’s operations. PTC became responsible for 10,000 employees and providing transportation for 2 million passengers a day.
PTC also acquired extensive financial responsibilities. Payroll expenses cost $327,000 each week. The annual rate for leasing the subway and El was roughly $3 million. PTC had to provide its 25,000 bondholders an annual income of at least $959,207 while also fulfilling its promise to offer modern transit vehicles.
Overcrowding and frequent fare increases
During the 1940s through the 1960s, Axelrod took public transportation to her job as a librarian at Central High School and later Frankford High School.
Meanwhile, PTC made good on its promise to provide better transit service. In its first eight years of operation, PTC spent $22.8 million to purchase 1,506 new streetcars, buses and trackless trolleys while also improving terminal and plant facilities. The company even purchased advertisements in The Philadelphia Inquirer to highlight its achievements. PTC extended 38 existing routes and created 18 new routes that serviced old residential and industrial areas, along with newly developed neighborhoods.
By 1949, however, many of PTC’s 3.2 million daily riders were complaining about overcrowded subways, the end of free exchanges between popular routes and frequent fare increases.
Passengers ride a subway car in Philadelphia on Feb. 15, 1946. AP Photo
Both PTC and the city faced scrutiny for these issues, although each party had distinct transit obligations outlined in their joint contract. PTC had to provide “safe and adequate service” that included spending on maintenance and replacement of transit equipment. The city was responsible for police and fire services on mass transit along with auditing PTC’s records. Both parties had to agree on fare changes under the state Public Utility Commission’s supervision.
Nevertheless, when issues on mass transit occurred, the city could persuade PTC to improve conditions, but the city was only required to offer emergency services to commuters.
When Larkin personally addressed Axelrod’s 1967 complaint about the subway, he informed her that the United Elevator Co. was repairing the escalators. He also assured her that the subway unit arrested 45 to 50 intoxicated people each month because they were at risk of falling onto the subway tracks. In “isolated cases,” Larkin explained, police arrested people for public urination and defecation.
Larkin reassured Axelrod that PTC could keep subway conditions clean and under control. In reality, PTC was underwater in responsibilities and debt.
On Sept. 30, 1968, SEPTA, a state agency formed five years earlier, took over PTC and managed transportation for the city and its surrounding areas. SEPTA bought PTC for approximately $47.9 million, settling the company’s debt, accepting its pension liability and buying out the institution’s roughly 1.7 million shareholders. Now federal and state funding rather than fare revenue largely determined the quality of the city’s public transit.
Five counties in Greater Philadelphia contribute subsidies to SEPTA in exchange for transit service. Philadelphia alone contributes $110 million. State subsidies also help finance SEPTA’s $1.74 billion operating budget, while federal subsidies support SEPTA’s $1 billion capital budget to pay for major repairs and new equipment. State politicians annually vote on funding for SEPTA, but there has not been a concrete solution to the funding crisis.
However, Philadelphians never ceased to demand better transit service. During the 1980s, the Pennsylvania Public Interest Coalition established the Transit Riders Action Campaign, also known as TRAC, which advocated that SEPTA have better safety, funding, accountability, service and stable fares. The Transport Workers Union Local 234 advised TRAC, while several organizations partnered with them: the Action Alliance of Senior Citizens, the Clean Air Council, Disabled in Action and the Delaware Valley Interfaith Coalition.
Even today, local groups such as Save the Train with outspoken commuters – like Axelrod was in her day – have launched campaigns to halt service cutbacks and encourage residents to write and telephone legislators who can vote to fund SEPTA. Residents have consistently united to advocate for quality mass transit. All that remains is an agreement among lawmakers to make it possible.
Menika Dirkson 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.
Peu d’idées dans la science moderne ont autant bouleversé notre compréhension de la réalité que l’espace-temps, cette trame entrelacée d’espace et de temps qui est au cœur de la théorie de la relativité d’Albert Einstein. L’espace-temps est souvent décrit comme le « tissu de la réalité ».
Le philosophe austro-britannique Ludwig Wittgenstein a un jour averti que les problèmes philosophiques surgissent lorsque « le langage part en vacances ». Il s’avère que la physique en est peut-être un bon exemple.
Au cours du siècle dernier, des mots usuels tels que « temps », « exister » et « intemporel » ont été réutilisés dans des contextes techniques sans que l’on examine le sens qu’ils ont dans le langage courant.
En philosophie de la physique, en particulier dans une approche connue sous le nom d’éternalisme, le mot « intemporel » est utilisé au sens littéral. L’éternalisme est l’idée que le temps ne s’écoule pas et ne passe pas, que tous les événements à travers le temps sont également réels dans une structure à quatre dimensions connue sous le nom d’« univers-bloc ».
L’éternalisme considère que tout existe de manière atemporelle et simultanée. (Rick Rothenberg/Unsplash), CC BY
Selon cette vision, toute l’histoire de l’univers est déjà écrite, de manière intemporelle, dans la structure de l’espace-temps. Dans ce contexte, « intemporel » signifie que l’univers lui-même ne perdure ni ne se déploie dans un sens réel. Il n’y a pas de devenir. Il n’y a pas de changement. Il n’y a qu’un bloc, et toute l’éternité existe de manière intemporelle à l’intérieur de celui-ci.
Mais cela conduit à un problème plus profond. Si tout ce qui se produit à travers l’éternité est également réel, et que tous les événements sont déjà là, que signifie réellement le fait que l’espace-temps existe ?
Un éléphant dans la pièce
Il existe une différence structurelle entre l’existence et l’occurrence. L’une est un mode d’être, l’autre, un mode d’arriver.
Imaginez qu’un éléphant se tienne à côté de vous. Vous diriez probablement : « Cet éléphant existe. » Vous pourriez le décrire comme un objet tridimensionnel, mais surtout, c’est un « objet tridimensionnel qui existe ».
En revanche, imaginez un éléphant purement tridimensionnel qui apparaît dans la pièce pendant un instant : un moment transversal dans la vie d’un éléphant existant, apparaissant et disparaissant comme un fantôme. Cet éléphant n’existe pas vraiment au sens ordinaire du terme. Il se produit. Il apparaît.
Un éléphant existant perdure dans le temps, et l’espace-temps catalogue chaque instant de son existence sous la forme d’une ligne mondiale en quatre dimensions – le parcours d’un objet dans l’espace et le temps tout au long de son existence. L’« éléphant qui apparaît » imaginaire n’est qu’une tranche spatiale du tube, un instant en trois dimensions.
Appliquons maintenant cette distinction à l’espace-temps lui-même. Que signifie l’existence d’un espace-temps à quatre dimensions au sens où l’éléphant existe ? L’espace-temps perdure-t-il dans le même sens ? L’espace-temps a-t-il son propre ensemble de moments « présents » ? Ou bien l’espace-temps – l’ensemble de tous les événements qui se produisent à travers l’éternité – est-il simplement quelque chose qui se produit ? L’espace-temps est-il simplement un cadre descriptif permettant de relier ces événements ?
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L’éternalisme brouille cette distinction. Il traite toute l’éternité – c’est-à-dire tout l’espace-temps – comme une structure existante, et considère le passage du temps comme une illusion. Mais cette illusion est impossible si tout l’espace-temps se produit en un clin d’œil.
Pour retrouver l’illusion que le temps passe dans ce cadre, l’espace-temps à quatre dimensions doit exister d’une manière plus proche de l’éléphant à trois dimensions existant, dont l’existence est décrite par l’espace-temps à une dimension.
Chaque événement
Poussons cette réflexion un peu plus loin.
Si nous imaginons que chaque événement de l’histoire de l’univers « existe » dans l’univers-bloc, alors nous pourrions nous demander : quand le bloc lui-même existe-t-il ? S’il ne se déroule pas et ne change pas, existe-t-il hors du temps ? Si tel est le cas, alors nous ajoutons une autre dimension temporelle à quelque chose qui est censé être intemporel au sens littéral.
Pour donner un sens à cela, nous pourrions construire un cadre à cinq dimensions, en utilisant trois dimensions spatiales et deux dimensions temporelles. Le deuxième axe temporel nous permettrait de dire que l’espace-temps à quatre dimensions existe exactement de la même manière que nous considérons généralement qu’un éléphant dans une pièce existe dans les trois dimensions spatiales qui nous entourent, les événements que nous classons comme espace-temps à quatre dimensions.
À ce stade, nous sortons du cadre de la physique établie, qui décrit l’espace-temps à travers quatre dimensions seulement. Mais cela révèle un problème profond : nous n’avons aucun moyen cohérent de parler de ce que signifie l’existence de l’espace-temps sans réintroduire accidentellement le temps à travers une dimension supplémentaire qui ne fait pas partie de la physique.
C’est comme essayer de décrire une chanson qui existe à un moment donné, sans être jouée, entendue ou dévoilée.
De la physique à la fiction
Cette confusion façonne notre conception du temps dans la fiction et la science populaire.
Dans le film de James Cameron de 1984, The Terminator, tous les événements sont considérés comme fixes. Le voyage dans le temps est possible, mais la chronologie ne peut être modifiée. Tout existe déjà dans un état fixe et intemporel.
Dans le quatrième film de la franchise Avengers, Avengers : Endgame (2019), le voyage dans le temps permet aux personnages de modifier les événements passés et de remodeler la ligne temporelle, suggérant un univers en bloc qui existe et change à la fois.
Ce changement ne peut se produire que si la ligne temporelle à quatre dimensions existe de la même manière que notre monde à trois dimensions.
Mais indépendamment de la possibilité d’un tel changement, les deux scénarios supposent que le passé et l’avenir sont là et prêts à être parcourus. Cependant, aucun des deux ne s’intéresse à la nature de l’existence que cela implique, ni à la manière dont l’espace-temps diffère d’une carte des événements.
Comprendre la réalité
Lorsque les physiciens affirment que l’espace-temps « existe », ils travaillent souvent dans un cadre qui a discrètement brouillé la frontière entre existence et occurrence. Il en résulte un modèle métaphysique qui, au mieux, manque de clarté et, au pire, obscurcit la nature même de la réalité.
Rien de tout cela ne remet en cause la théorie mathématique de la relativité ou la science empirique qui la confirme. Les équations d’Einstein fonctionnent toujours. Mais la manière dont nous interprétons ces équations est importante, en particulier lorsqu’elle influence la façon dont nous parlons de la réalité et dont nous abordons les problèmes plus profonds de la physique.
Définir l’espace-temps est plus qu’un débat technique : il s’agit de déterminer dans quel type de monde nous pensons vivre.
Daryl Janzen ne travaille pas, ne conseille pas, ne possède pas de parts, ne reçoit pas de fonds d’une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n’a déclaré aucune autre affiliation que son organisme de recherche.
Source: The Conversation – 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
Les élections africaines, déjà marquées par des tensions récurrentes autour de la transparence et de la désinformation, pourraient bientôt entrer dans une nouvelle ère, celle des deepfakes. Ces vidéos et audios générés par intelligence artificielle, capables d’imiter la voix, le visage et les gestes d’une personne avec un réalisme troublant, déplacent la frontière de la manipulation politique.
S’ils prêtent parfois à sourire lorsqu’ils mettent en scène des célébrités dans des détournements humoristiques, leur usage en période électorale représente une menace sérieuse pour la stabilité démocratique. Aux États-Unis, en Inde ou encore en Slovaquie, les deepfakes ont déjà été mobilisés pour influencer l’opinion publique. La question centrale est donc très simple : l’Afrique est-elle prête à affronter ce nouvel outil de manipulation électorale ?
Chercheur en sciences de l’information et de la communication, j’étudie la circulation de l’information, la désinformation et les vulnérabilités communicationnelles en contexte de crise. L’émergence des deepfakes illustre ces tensions. En Afrique, où la jeunesse hyperconnectée domine l’électorat mais où la culture numérique reste inégale, le risque est particulièrement élevé. J’en propose ici une lecture info-communicationnelle appliquée aux élections africaines
Des précédents inquiétants à l’échelle mondiale
Les deepfakes ne sont plus une hypothèse futuriste. Ils ont déjà marqué des épisodes électoraux clés, offrant des leçons pour les pays africains.
En 2023, en Slovaquie, quelques jours avant les législatives, un deepfake audio circulant sur Facebook et Telegram attribuait à Michal Simecka, chef du parti pro-occidental progressiste slovaque, une conversation où il planifiait de ruser le scrutin. Ce contenu a semé le doute au profit du camp populiste de Robert Fico. Il s’agit du premier cas documenté en Europe où un deepfake aurait pesé sur un scrutin national.
En 2024 aux États unis lors de la primaire démocrate du New Hampshire, des électeurs reçurent un appel téléphonique deepfake imitant la voix de Joe Biden et incident à l’abstention. Ce qui illustre l’usage des deepfakes pour dissuader la participation électorale, ce qui constitue une attaque frontale contre la démocratie.
En 2024 en Inde, les élections générales de 2024 ont été marquées par une explosion de deepfakes. Ces vidéos et sons générés par intelligence artificielle (IA) ont été diffusés massivement par les réseaux sociaux. Des acteurs de Bollywood ou même des personnalités politiques décédées ont été mis en scène pour soutenir ou attaquer les candidats.
Ces cas montrent que les deepfakes ne visent pas seulement à convaincre, mais surtout à introduire le doute, brouiller les repères et miner la confiance.
• Une faible culture de vérification : beaucoup d’utilisateurs partagent sans contrôler l’origine des contenus;
• Une viralité extrême : les messages et vidéos circulent rapidement dans les groupes fermés et sont difficiles à surveiller;
• Les institutions électorales sont contestées : la confiance citoyenne est fragile, ce qui confère une crédibilité accrue aux fausses informations.
Des signaux faibles apparaissent déjà :
Au Nigéria, en 2023, des inquiétudes ont émergé concernant la circulation de vidéos manipulées lors de la présidentielle.
Au Kenya, en 2022, TikTok et Facebook ont hébergé de nombreux contenus politiques manipulés, certains proches de techniques de falsification, dans le cadre de campagnes de désinformation.
L’Afrique se trouve donc dans une phase de vulnérabilité latente, réunissant tous les ingrédients pour que les deepfakes deviennent rapidement une arme politique.
À la différence des « fake news » classiques, les deepfakes tirent leur force de la synergie image/son créant une illusion sensorielle difficile à contester. Leur efficacité ne repose pas seulement sur la capacité à tromper, mais sur leur pouvoir de déstabilisation symbolique.
Ils peuvent ainsi créer un scandale contre un candidat, amplifier des clivages ethniques ou religieux et semer la confusion.
Cette érosion du contrat de vérité constitue une crise communicationnelle majeure qui fragilise les démocraties africaines déjà confrontées à des équilibres institutionnels précaires.
Une lecture info-communicationnelle
Les SIC permettent d’analyser ce phénomène sous un angle élargi. Trois axes sont particulièrement pertinents :
Tout d’abord, en termes de médiologie et de circulation des rumeurs, les deepfakes s’inscrivent dans une longue histoire des technologies de communication comme instruments de pouvoir. L’incertitude, le manque de transparence et l’opacité de certaines sphères d’information favorisent la prolifération de rumeurs, en particulier dans les contextes électoraux ou politiques.Les deepfakes ajoutent une couche technologique qui donne un vernis de crédibilité à la rumeur.
Ensuite, dans le cadre des logiques sociotechniques des plateformes, les algorithmes comme celui de TikTok privilégient les contenus sensationnels et polarisants. Dans ce système le deepfake devient une arme algorithmique amplifiée par l’économie de l’attention.
Enfin, on constate que dans un contexte africain marqué par des fractures linguistiques, éducatives et technologiques, la réception des deepfakes varie fortement. La culture numérique inégale favorise des appropriations différenciées, accentuant les asymétries de compréhension.
De nombreuses pistent émergent, mais leur mise en œuvre reste complexe :
Google, Meta ou Microsoft développent des outils capables d’identifier les contenus synthétiques. Mais ces technologies de détection restent coûteuses et rarement accessibles aux médias africains.
Des initiatives comme Africa Check jouent un rôle crucial en terme de médias et fact-checking, mais elles sont sous-dimensionnées face à la masse d’informations manipulées.
D’un point de vue juridique, certains pays africains légifèrent contre les fake news comme le Ghana ou l’Ouganda, mais il est à craindre que ces lois, dont l’encadrement est discutable, risquent de servir la censure politique plutôt que la protection citoyenne. Une approche panafricaine via l’Union Africaine ou les communautés régionales offrirait plus de crédibilité.
Former les jeunes et les moins jeunes à repérer, vérifier et questionner les contenus constitue un investissement démocratique stratégique. Les programmes scolaires universitaires, l’éducation aux médias, qui sont les leviers à long terme doivent intégrer la littérature numérique et médiatique comme compétences civiques.
Vers une souveraineté numérique africaine ?
La menace des deepfakes invite aussi à réfléchir à une souveraineté numérique africaine. L’Afrique ne peut pas dépendre uniquement des géants technologiques occidentaux pour sécuriser son espace informationnel. Le développement de laboratoires panafricains de recherche et de détection associés à des initiatives de société civile pourrait constituer une réponse endogène.
En outre, la coopération Sud-Sud ( par exemple entre l’Inde et certains pays africains) pourrait favoriser l’échange de solutions techniques et pédagogiques. Car il ne s’agit pas seulement de contrer la manipulation, mais aussi de bâtir une culture numérique partagée, capable de redonner confiance aux citoyens.
Les cas en Slovaquie, en Inde, aux États-Unis montrent que les deepfakes sont déjà une arme électorale redoutable. En Afrique, leur introduction dans le jeu politique n’est plus qu’une question de temps.
Mais la menace ne se réduit pas à une technologie. Elle révèle une vulnérabilité communicationnelle plus profonde qui se caractérise par une crise de confiance minant la légitimité démocratique. L’enjeu n’est donc pas uniquement de détecter les deepfakes, mais bien de reconstruire un rapport de vérité entre gouvernés et gouvernants.
Former les citoyens, renforcer les médias, développer une recherche locale et promouvoir une régulation panafricaine sont autant de pistes pour affronter ce défi. Car au-delà de la technique, c’est la capacité de l’Afrique à protéger l’intégrité de ses choix démocratiques qui est en jeu.
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.
Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Cormac Price, Post-doctoral fellow the HerpHealth lab, office 218, Building G23. Unit for Environmental Sciences and Management, North-West University; University of KwaZulu-Natal
Black mambas (Dendroaspis polylepis) are Africa’s longest, most famous venomous snakes. Despite their fearsome reputation, these misunderstood snakes are vital players in their ecosystems. They keep rodent populations in check and, in turn, help to protect crops and limit disease spread. The species ranges widely across sub-Saharan Africa, from Senegal to Somalia and south into South Africa. They can adapt to many environments.
Zoologist Cormac Price, in new research with professors Marc Humphries and Graham Alexander and reptile conservationist Nick Evans, found that black mambas can be indicators of heavy metal pollution. We asked him about it.
How do black mambas indicate toxic pollution?
It’s about bio-accumulation. Bioaccumulation happens when chemicals, like pesticides or heavy metals, build up in an organism’s body. These toxins come from polluted environments, from waste products of human activities like manufacturing. They pollute water or soil and gradually accumulate in plants and animals.
If toxins are present in the environment, they may first be taken in by plants, and then by animals that eat the plants, and animals that eat those animals. Black mambas are quite high up the food chain, so a lot of the toxins would accumulate in their bodies. These poisonous substances can reach dangerous levels, causing health problems for whatever eats them.
We tested the presence of four types of heavy metals (arsenic, cadmium, lead and mercury) in the bodies of black mambas.
All our samples were from the eThekwini Municipality (greater Durban area) in South Africa. Durban is a busy shipping container port and has a large industrial sector that includes chemicals, petrochemicals and automotive manufacturing. Alongside all this industry the municipality also has a network of conservancies and green spaces, known as the Durban Metropolitan Open Space System.
We chose to test for these metals because they are widely used in different industries and can cause drastic negative effects in the body. Mercury primarily damages the nervous system, arsenic can cause cancer and skin lesions, cadmium harms kidneys and bones and lead mainly affects brain development and blood functions. Because these metals accumulate over time and are difficult to break down, even low-level exposure can lead to chronic poisoning and long-term health problems.
Black mambas appear to be doing well in Durban and taking advantage of the abundance of rodents, which they eat. Wherever there is human settlement there will be waste and discarded food which rodents take full advantage of. Black mambas can also be quite site-specific when not disturbed, living in the same refuge for many years, giving a clearer indication of pollution levels at that specific site. This makes the snakes potentially good bioindicator species.
A bioindicator species is one that helps us understand the health of an environment. Because they are sensitive to changes like pollution or habitat damage, their presence, absence or condition can reveal if an ecosystem is in good condition or is experiencing increases of pollution or degradation.
The pollutants can be detected and calculated from a non-invasive, harmless scale clipping. Snake scales are composed mostly of keratin, the same sort of protein that produces human hair and nails. To clip a very thin slice of snake scale is as harmless as clipping a human finger nail.
We collected 31 mambas that had already been killed by vehicles, people or dogs, and tested muscle and liver samples from them for toxins. We also took scale clippings from 61 live snakes.
This was the first time in Africa that a species of snake was tested to see if it could be used as an indicator species of heavy metal pollution.
What did you find?
We found that the heavy metal concentrations in scales correlated with those found in the muscle and liver samples. For three of the four metals, scales were as accurate for testing as muscle and liver samples. So the harmless testing method is as good as the more invasive one.
For arsenic, cadmium and lead, the snakes were accumulating significantly lower concentrations of these toxins in the open, natural sites of the Durban Metropolitan Open Space System compared to more industrial and commercial areas. Mercury was less significantly different due to its more volatile nature and its capacity to travel through the environment.
What made you test mamba scales in the first place?
In 2020, I attended a conference on amphibians and reptiles, where a friend of mine presented his work on heavy metal pollutants in tiger snakes in the city of Perth, Australia.
I’ve also been working with Nick Evans of KZN Amphibian & Reptile Conservation for some years, on urban reptile ecology. Nick began collecting scale clippings, and I began to realise, while looking through the literature, how novel this was on a continental scale. Snakes had never been tested as a potential bioindicator species of heavy metal pollution in Africa previously.
Marc Humphries is a professor of environmental chemistry, and I was aware of his work on lead exposure in Nile crocodiles at St Lucia, a wetland in South Africa. When he expressed interest in examining the scale clippings, we were thrilled. Graham Alexander’s expertise in snake behaviour in general and specifically snakes in Durban was also instrumental in the success of this research.
How can this help fight pollution?
The fight against pollution is in the hands of the municipality and city managers. What the snakes are doing is warning us of the increasing danger these pollutants pose to environmental health and ultimately human health. They are also showing us how important open spaces are to the overall environmental and human health of the city of Durban. The snakes are telling us a story; what people in authority decide to do with this story rests with them.
Nick Evans of KZN Amphibian & Reptile Conservation made valuable contributions to the research and was a co-author on the article.
Cormac Price 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.
Scientists have always needed someone to help foot the bill for their work.
In the 19th century, for example, Charles Darwin made an expensive voyage to the southernmost tip of the Americas, visiting many other places en route, including his famous trek through the Galapagos Islands. The fossil evidence Darwin collected over his five-year journey eventually helped him to think about an infinite variety of species, both past and present.
The HMS Beagle and its crew traversed these places while testing clocks and drawing maps for the Royal Navy, and the voyage was funded by the British government. Darwin’s position as a naturalist aboard the ship was unpaid, but, fortunately, his family’s private assets were enough to cover his living expenses while he focused on his scientific work.
Today, government and private funding both remain important for scientific discoveries and translating knowledge into practical applications.
As a professor of science education, one of my goals while preparing future teachers is to introduce them to the characteristics of scientific knowledge and how it is developed. For decades, there has been a strong consensus in my field that educated citizens also need to know about the nature of the scientific enterprise. This includes understanding who pays for science, which can differ depending on the type of research, and why it matters.
Funding for science is more than just the amount of money. To a large extent, the organizations that fund research set the agenda, and different funders have different priorities. It can also be hard to see the downstream benefits of scientific research, but they typically outweigh the upfront costs.
Basic research leads to new knowledge
Basic research, also called fundamental research, involves systematic study aimed at acquiring new knowledge. Scientists often pursue research that falls into this category without specific applications or commercial objectives in mind.
Of course, it costs money to follow where curiosity leads; scientists need funding to pursue questions about the natural and material world.
About 40% of basic research in the U.S. has been federally funded in recent years. The government makes this investment because basic research is the foundation of long-term innovation, economic growth and societal well-being.
Funding for basic research is distributed by the federal government through several agencies and institutes. For more than a century, the U.S. National Institutes of Health have sponsored a breadth of scientific and health research and education programs. Since 1950, the National Science Foundation has advanced basic research and education programs, including the training of the next generation of scientists.
Other federal agencies have complementary missions, such as the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, created in response to the Soviet Union’s launch of Sputnik in 1957. DARPA focuses on technological innovations for national security, many of which have become fixtures of civilian life.
Through a competitive review process at these agencies, subject experts vet research proposals and make funding recommendations. The amount of funding available from the NIH, NSF and DARPA varies annually, depending on congressional appropriations. Most of the awarded funds go to universities, research institutions and other health and science organizations that conduct research. The sum of research dollars awarded differs among states.
Applying research
Scientists undertake basic research to generate new knowledge with no specific end goal in mind. Applied research is different in that it aims to find solutions to real-world problems.
Research that investigates specific, practical objectives or improvements with commercial potential is more likely to attract private investors. Companies directly invest in research and development to gain a competitive edge and turn a profit. Private industry is more likely to sink dollars into applied rather than basic research because the potential payoff in the form of a new product or advance is more visible.
From discovery to real-world implementation
As applied research addresses problems, promising findings are moved toward clinical application or mainstream use. This research and development process can lead to tangible benefits for individuals and society.
According to numbers reported by a coalition of research institutions, every dollar that NIH spends on research leads to $2.56 of new economic activity. For the 2024 fiscal year, this means, of the $47.35 billion Congress appropriated for NIH, the $36.94 billion awarded to U.S. researchers fueled $94 billion in activity through employment and the purchase of research-related goods and services.
Economist Pierre Azoulay and colleagues recently imagined an alternative history where NIH was 40% smaller and dispersed less money – a budget akin to current federal proposals. They argued that more than half of the drugs FDA approved since 2000 are tied to NIH-funded research that would have been cut under this scenario. This thought experiment underscores how valuable those basic research dollars are.
‘Last Week Tonight with John Oliver’ points out some seemingly outlandish basic research that has yielded surprising real-world applications.
Even seemingly out-of-touch or abstract studies may precede discoveries with major impact. Basic research into bee nectar foraging and movement around the colony, recently mentioned on “Last Week Tonight with John Oliver,” led to the development of an algorithm that distributes internet traffic between computer servers, which now powers the multibillion-dollar web-hosting industry. Learning about applications of research with visible societal impacts can help people understand and appreciate the role of funding in the scientific enterprise.
Ryan Summers receives funding from the National Science Foundation (NSF) and the National Institutes of Health (NIH). He is affiliated with the Association for Science Teacher Education (ASTE), NARST, which is a global organization for improving science education through research, and the National Science Teaching Association (NSTA).
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