Grandparent care: women from poorer backgrounds help out most with childcare

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Giorgio Di Gessa, Lecturer in Data Science, UCL

szefei/Shutterstock

Grandparents play a pivotal role in family life. They are often a vital part of the childcare puzzle, stepping in to look after their grandchildren while parents are at work or busy. And there’s a lot of grandparent care taking place.

In England, around half of all grandparents provide care for their grandchildren when the parents are not around. And the percentage of grandparents providing care is even higher when they have grandchildren aged 16 and under, who are more likely to require supervision, care, and support from an adult when the parents are busy at work or unavailable. In this case, 66% of grandparents help out.

I used data from the English Longitudinal Study of Ageing, to analyse the caring roles of over 5,000 grandparents. I used data collected in 2016-17 to assess how often grandparents looked after their grandchildren, the activities they did with them, and why they helped out. I also discovered that there are clear gender and socioeconomic patterns. Further analysis of data from 2018-19 showed that providing care as a grandparent can affect wellbeing.

I found that in England, among grandparents who looked after grandchildren, 45% of grandparents spent at least one day a week looking after their young grandchildren. They did so consistently throughout the year, with 8% doing so almost daily. Approximately one in three grandparents provided care to their grandchildren during school holidays.

Around 25% of grandparents who looked after their grandchildren were still working. Most grandparents reported having overall good physical health.

And most grandparents who cared for their grandchildren also lived relatively close to them – less than half an hour away from their closest grandchild – and had at least one grandchild aged under six years old.

Most of the grandparents in the study who cared for grandchildren – 80% – mentioned that they played or took part in leisure activities with their grandchildren. Around half said that they frequently cooked for them and helped with picking them up and dropping them off from schools and nurseries. And although it was less common, grandparents also helped with homework and taking care of their grandchildren when they were not feeling well.

About three grandparents in four (76%) said that their motivation for helping out was to give their grandchildren’s parents some time out from childcare responsibilities. A similar percentage – 70% – said they wanted to provide some economic support, either by offering financial assistance or by allowing parents to go to work.

Just over half of grandparents (52%) said that being able to provide emotional support was what drove their motivation to provide grandchild care: they wanted to feel engaged with young people and help their grandchildren develop. But 17% say that they felt obliged to help out, and found it difficult to refuse.

The grandmother’s role

But while we tend to talk about “grandparents” as a group, grandmothers and grandfathers often experience and approach caregiving in distinctly different ways.

In particular, when examining the specific activities undertaken with their grandchildren, there are clear gender distinctions. I found that grandmothers were more likely than grandfathers to engage in hands-on tasks: preparing meals, helping with homework, caring for grandchildren when they are sick, and doing school pick-ups.

Grandfather reading book with child
Grandfathers were less likely to do hands-on caring activities, such as school pickups.
Rawpixel.com/Shutterstock

Grandfathers, while also involved, tended to participate less in these activities. This is the case even among grandparent couples who lived together and jointly cared for their grandchildren.

The role of wealth

The extent and nature of grandparental care is also closely linked to grandparents’ socioeconomic status. For example, grandparents with fewer financial resources tended to offer childcare more regularly than their wealthier counterparts.

Socioeconomic disparities also shape the nature of caregiving tasks. Less affluent grandparents were more likely to engage in hands-on activities, such as cooking meals and taking their grandchildren to and from school. In contrast, grandparents with more education were more likely than those with less education to help with homework frequently.

The reasons for providing care also varied according to grandparents’ socioeconomic status. Grandparents with greater financial resources and higher levels of education were more likely to report providing childcare to help parents manage work and other responsibilities, as well as to offer emotional support to their grandchildren. Conversely, those with fewer financial resources were more likely to feel obliged to help or to struggle to refuse caregiving duties.

Grandparent wellbeing

What grandparents do with their grandchildren and why they have an active role in caring for them can also affect their wellbeing in complex ways. Grandparents who often took part in fun or enriching activities with their grandchildren, such as leisure activities or helping with homework, tended to report higher wellbeing compared to their peers who did not look after grandchildren.

However, grandparents who cared for their grandchildren when they were sick or who had them stay overnight without parents tended to report, over time, lower wellbeing.

Motivations also matter for grandparents’ wellbeing. Grandparents had a higher quality of life if they cared for their grandchildren because they wanted to help them develop as people, or to feel engaged with young people. However, grandparents who felt obliged to help, perhaps due to family pressure or lack of alternatives, experienced lower wellbeing.

In short, these findings remind us that behind the broad label of “grandparenting” lies a diverse world of individuals whose involvement in caring for grandchildren – how often they care, what they do, and why – is closely linked to and varies with gender norms and socioeconomic status.

Also, the meaning behind grandparenting and the type of interactions shared with grandchildren seems to matter for grandparents’ wellbeing. Overall, these insights suggest that these caring responsibilities may contribute to the reinforcement or even deepening of existing gender, socioeconomic and health inequalities among older adults.


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Giorgio Di Gessa 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. Grandparent care: women from poorer backgrounds help out most with childcare – https://theconversation.com/grandparent-care-women-from-poorer-backgrounds-help-out-most-with-childcare-253168

Physically restricting mental health patients can often harm them – my new study suggests compassion could change that

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Daniel Lawrence, Senior Lecturer in Forensic Psychology, Cardiff Metropolitan University

Restrictive practices in mental health settings – such as physical restraint and seclusion – are meant to be a last resort, used only when patients pose a risk to themselves or others.

In 2021 and 2022 alone, NHS England reported that 6,600 mental health patients were subjected to physical restraint, and 4,500 to seclusion. Figures such as these have led numerous experts and policymakers to conclude that restrictive practices are overused in mental health inpatient settings.

The consequences can be devastating. Restrictive practices are associated with trauma, worsening mental health, and even death. For decades, clinicians, researchers and policymakers have called for their reduction. Progress, however, remains painfully slow.

For the past five years, I have been researching the use of restrictive practices in mental health services and exploring how to reduce them. My new research demonstrates the importance of using compassion to support staff to promote the dignity and wellbeing of patients as a priority.

Restrictive practices have a long history that predates the development of asylums and psychiatry as a medical discipline. The use of legislation to detain people on the basis of their mental health in England, for example, dates back to at least the 14th century. Early examples of restrictive practices included patients being bound and beaten with rods in order to “restore sanity”.

During the first three decades of the 19th century, mechanical restraints such as straitjackets, chains and restraint chairs and confining patients in locked rooms were widely accepted methods of controlling violent people in British asylums. But in the 1830s, some clinicians recognised the moral and ethical problems with using such practices, and a campaign began to abolish them.

The UN has long recognised restrictive practices in mental healthcare as a human rights issue. In 2008, the UN’s special rapporteur on torture stated that methods such as solitary confinement violate articles 14 and 15 of the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, which protect against arbitrary detention and cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment.

This stance was reaffirmed in 2021 when the UN declared that restrictive practices breach the fundamental rights of patients. This underscores the urgent need for reform in mental healthcare systems worldwide.

Harmful effect

Research shows that restrictive practices may not only harm patients but contradict the goals of mental healthcare. Many mental health problems stem from traumatic experiences that leave people feeling powerless, unsafe and distressed. Using methods that reinforce these feelings can worsen the very issues services aim to address.

In extreme incidents, people have died as a result of restrictive practices use.

In my research, I have developed a theoretical model identifying core factors that perpetuate the use of restrictive practices in mental health services. These include the emotional challenges faced by staff working in high-stress environments, and how these challenges influence their decision-making.

Mental health wards can be highly stressful environments, with frequent incidents of aggression. In such settings, staff can often feel anxious and hyper-vigilant, which can make it harder for them to respond to patients with compassion.

Research shows that threat-based emotions like fear and anger are linked to a greater likelihood of using restrictive measures. So, this cycle perpetuates the use of these harmful practices.

Compassion may hold the key

Using restrictive practices to control or remove people who are perceived as a threat can provide staff with a sense of immediate safety, which may inadvertently reinforce their use. To address this, I wanted to explore whether supporting staff to manage their emotions more effectively could reduce their reliance on restrictive practices, and foster a more compassionate approach to care.

As part of my research, I introduced compassion-focused support groups for staff in several forensic mental health wards, advocating for a more empathetic and patient-centred approach. These groups tried to equip participants with skills to better manage challenging emotional experiences while fostering greater compassion for both themselves and the people in their care.

The aim was to help staff cultivate an inner sense of safety, reducing their reliance on restrictive practices as a means of managing their own feelings of threat. This intervention was encouraging, leading to reductions in the use of restrictive practices in some conditions – demonstrating the potential of using compassionate care for these purposes.

My study was the first of its kind – bur these initial results highlight the need for further research into how the emotional management of staff influences care decisions. The journey toward change is slow, but it is possible. Compassion may hold the key to addressing a deeply entrenched issue that has shaped the treatment of mental health patients for centuries.


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Daniel Lawrence is affiliated with the Labour Party.

ref. Physically restricting mental health patients can often harm them – my new study suggests compassion could change that – https://theconversation.com/physically-restricting-mental-health-patients-can-often-harm-them-my-new-study-suggests-compassion-could-change-that-244782

Counting the climate costs of abandoned shopping trolleys

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Neill Raath, Assistant Professor of Sustainable Materials and Manufacturing, University of Warwick

Richard Johnson/Shutterstock

Despite the steady growth of online shopping, a majority of the UK public still prefers to buy groceries at the supermarket.

Shopping trolleys can help us lug our purchases back to the car, but some shoppers are evidently taking them further afield. In 2017, 520,000 trolleys were reported as abandoned in the UK. Sunderland in north-east England alone reported 30,000 abandoned trolleys between 2020 and 2022. Likewise, 550 trolleys were collected in a single day in western Sydney, Australia.

Supermarkets employ a range of methods to stop trolleys leaving their premises, including coin slots, vertical bars (to stop trolleys leaving the shop floor), wheel-locking mechanisms and car park wardens. Despite these efforts, abandoned trolleys still blight the landscape and need to be collected.

Many supermarkets use commercial collection services, such as Wanzl TrolleyWise or TMS Collex. These companies typically use diesel vans to survey suburban areas, collect trolleys and return them to supermarkets. They also offer to refurbish weathered or damaged trolleys, sometimes by applying a zinc-based coating to protect against corrosion – a process known as regalvanisation.

We are researchers at the University of Warwick who wanted to understand the environmental impact of trolley abandonment. So, we set out to investigate it.

Collecting versus manufacturing

How does the environmental impact of using vans to rescue abandoned trolleys compare with losing these trolleys to excessive damage or corrosion and having to make new ones?

Our study used a standardised methodology known as life-cycle assessment to analyse the potential environmental impact of collecting and handling abandoned shopping trolleys within an area of Coventry, a city in the English West Midlands, which includes our university campus.

We spoke to trolley suppliers, who told us trolleys used at the supermarket in Coventry were most likely made in Spain. This was incorporated into our model.

A shopping trolley wedged in a hedge.
A trolley discovered by the author, abandoned in a bush near a car park.
Neill Raath

Through conversations with our university’s estates department and commercial collection services, we established that approximately 30 trolleys were collected a week on average in the area surrounding the Tesco supermarket in the Cannon Park shopping centre.

Our model assumed that a bulk transport of 50 trolleys is sent twice each year to be refurbished, in a round trip of 220km between Coventry and a refurbishment facility based in the UK that was noted on stickers placed on refurbished trolleys.

Vans collecting 520,000 abandoned trolleys in a year could emit the equivalent of 343 tonnes of CO₂ (the annual equivalent of driving 80 petrol cars). If we imagine that 10% of these 520,000 trolleys have been left outside too long and need to be regalvanised then the total global warming impact increases by 90% to the equivalent of 652 tonnes CO₂ (roughly the same as 152 petrol cars being driven for one year).

This is quite a surprising increase for such a small number of trolleys. It suggests that the real problem lies with the environmental impact of manufacturing.

Most of the emissions can be avoided

We found that one trolley would have to be collected 93 times by a diesel van to have the same environmental impact as manufacturing a new one.

Our results showed that the emissions incurred during the diesel van collection phase were only 1% of the manufacturing impact, and the regalvanisation stage was only 8%. We might wonder whether switching to electrically powered collection vans might help. While the emissions would be reduced, the impact of using diesel vans is still minuscule compared to that of making new trolleys.

We found that the highest environmental impact stemmed from manufacturing, which was mainly attributed to making and replacing the steel frame of the trolley.

These results reinforce the benefits of following the circular-economy principle of keeping trolleys in use for as long as possible, and avoiding manufacturing to replace abandoned ones.

Would anything change if we switched to plastic trolleys? Other researchers have investigated the effect of changing trolley materials and have found that trolleys made of polymers have many benefits compared with steel: they use less material, are less dense (a benefit for collection vans that emit less by driving around lighter products) and do not require protective coatings, which themselves have an environmental impact.

A steelworks.
Blast furnaces at conventional steelworks are very carbon-intensive.
Pedal to the Stock/Shutterstock

However, if these polymer trolleys were to be sent to landfill (or left to deteriorate in the environment), they could release carcinogenic chemicals, as well as microplastics, as they break down. This leads us back to the importance of keeping products in use.

Abandoning trolleys is bad for the environment, with a potential global warming impact equivalent to 0.69 kg CO₂ for collecting one trolley and returning it to a supermarket. If we multiply this by the potential 520,000 abandoned trolleys a year, this figure becomes quite big.

Preventing trolley abandonment should be a priority not just for supermarkets, but for the general public as well. However, once a trolley is abandoned, it is far better to collect and refurbish it than to let it fall out of use and manufacture a new one, as 92–99% of the environmental impact can be avoided.

While it is unlikely that we can ever stop trolleys being abandoned, we hope that next time people see a trolley in an alley or park bush, the potential environmental impact of losing this trolley to service would be apparent.


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The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

ref. Counting the climate costs of abandoned shopping trolleys – https://theconversation.com/counting-the-climate-costs-of-abandoned-shopping-trolleys-258500

4.48 Psychosis revival: the play’s window into a mind on the edge is as brutal as ever

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Leah Sidi, Associate Professor of Health Humanities, UCL

Under bright lights, the audience looks at a bare stage on two planes. Below, a small stage is white and empty, occupied only by a table and two chairs. Above, a huge, slanted mirror reflects a bird’s-eye view of the stage to the audience. Three middle-aged figures enter the stage without looking at each other. One lies down, staring into the mirror. One stands and one sits. For the next 70 minutes, they will never hold one another’s gaze.

This is the revival of Sarah Kane’s play 4.48 Psychosis. The production takes place 25 years after the original work, bringing the original cast and creative team back to the Royal Court where the play was first staged – now transferred to The Other Place, a small theatre run by the Royal Shakespeare Company.

It replicates the staging of the original with precision. The same faces are on the same set, making the same gestures. Even the projections of the street outside show cars from the 1990s. And yet, because this is theatre, there are inevitable differences.


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The play is a revival and a commemoration. Kane wrote 4.48 Psychosis in the year leading up to her death by suicide in 1999 and completed it during her final stay in a psychiatric hospital. It stages the experience of a suicidal and psychotic mind breaking down.

About a week after sending the play to her agent, Kane ended her own life. A year later, the original production was staged at the Royal Court, directed by her long-term collaborator James Macdonald and starring three young actors: Daniel Evans, Madeleine Potter and Jo McInnes. All three have returned for this revival.

4.48 Psychosis is a highly experimental play. It contains dialogue between doctor and patient, poetry, seemingly psychotic speech, lists and quotations from literature and medical documents. In her aims for the play, Kane was both very open and very specific. She described the play in an interview at Royal Holloway University as an attempt to stage the experience of a mind breaking down:

I’m writing a play called 4:48 Psychosis … It’s about a psychotic breakdown and what happens in a person’s mind when the barriers which distinguish between reality and different forms of imagination completely disappear … you no longer know where you stop and the world starts.

What’s more, through an experimental style, Kane hoped to make her audience experience some of the distress experienced by the mental collapse being staged. She described this as “making form and content one”.

How this strange work was to be staged was to be left up to future creatives. She didn’t specify how many actors should perform the work, or provide references to their age or gender. Kane believed that as a playwright, her job was to write the work, and then let directors figure it out.

The result was that the first performance split the experience of breakdown across three actors. At times, they take on more specific roles such as a patient, a doctor, and a lover or bystander. At others, they all seem to occupy a shared mental reverie.

Since the original production, 4.48 Psychosis has been staged in multiple ways around the world. French actor Isabelle Huppert performed the first French production largely as a monologue in 2005, with occasional lines delivered by Gérard Watkins as a psychiatrist. Recently in the UK it has been transformed into a successful opera in which a six-person ensemble and full orchestra performed the play’s “hive mind”, and has been performed in a plastic box in British Sign Language.

When it was first performed in 2000, a year after Kane’s death, the play left a profound impression on its audiences. It was arguably one of the most brutal, head-on representations of mental illness that had ever been seen in British theatre. Reviews from that first production discuss anxieties about whether the play should be viewed as a “suicide note” – a disturbingly “real” reference to Kane’s death.

Today, such anxieties may seem less relevant. After all, over two decades have passed since Kane’s death, and we are in a very different world when it comes to how we view disclosure of personal struggle. In a culture of mental health awareness campaigns and social media oversharing, the closeness of Kane’s suffering to her work seems less scandalous, and perhaps less unsettling.

At times, this revival feels a bit more like a repetition, or archival reconstruction than a fresh performance. There are moments that feel dated – for example, the use of pixelated projections.

The most compelling moments were where something original was introduced due to the more advanced ages of the actors. In my experience, the play is typically performed by a younger cast, as a rageful, energetic cry of despair. It hits differently with a cast in their fifties.

Madeleine Potter’s resigned, ironic complaints about being mistreated by “Dr This and Dr That” gave the impression of a woman with a lifetime’s experience of inadequate mental health services. And Jo McInnes’s desperate monologue about lost love could be referencing an estranged or dead child, as much as a lover.

These moments inserted something new into Kane’s iconic last work and underlined that mental suffering is far from being the privilege of the young. More of a slow burn than an explosive cry of anger, this return to 4.48 Psychosis explores mental torment that can persist over a lifetime, revealing it to be as relevant as ever.

4.48 Psychosis is at The Other Place until July 27.

The Conversation

Leah Sidi 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. 4.48 Psychosis revival: the play’s window into a mind on the edge is as brutal as ever – https://theconversation.com/4-48-psychosis-revival-the-plays-window-into-a-mind-on-the-edge-is-as-brutal-as-ever-261430

Gene editing technology could be used to save species on the brink of extinction

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Cock Van Oosterhout, Professor of Evolutionary Genetics, University of East Anglia

Earth’s biodiversity is in crisis. An imminent “sixth mass extinction” threatens beloved and important wildlife. It also threatens to reduce the amount of genetic diversity – or variation – within species.

This variation in genes within a species is crucial for their ability to adapt to changes in the environment or resist diseases. Genetic variation is therefore crucial for species’ long term survival.

Traditional conservation efforts – such as protected areas, measures to prevent poaching, and captive breeding – remain essential to prevent extinction. But even when these measures succeed in boosting population numbers, they cannot recover genetic diversity that has already been lost. The loss of a unique gene variant can take thousands of years of evolution before it is recovered by a lucky mutation.

In a new paper in Nature Reviews Biodiversity, an international team of geneticists and wildlife biologists argues that the survival of some species will depend on gene editing, along with more traditional conservation actions. Using these advanced genetic tools, like those already revolutionising agriculture and medicine, can give endangered species a boost by adding genetic diversity that isn’t there.

Genetic engineering is not new. Plant breeders have used it for decades to develop crops with traits to boost disease resistance and drought tolerance. Around 13.5% of the world’s arable land grows genetically modified crops. Gene-editing tools such as Crispr are also being used in “de-extinction” projects that aim to recreate extinct animals.

The Dallas-based company Colossal Laboratory & Biosciences has attracted headlines for its efforts to bring back the woolly mammoth, dodo and dire wolf. In de-extinction, the DNA of a living relative species is edited (changed) to approximate the extinct species’ most charismatic traits.

For example, to “resurrect” a woolly mammoth, Colossal’s researchers plan to splice mammoth genes (recovered from ancient remains) into the genome of the Asian elephant to produce a cold-hardy, hairy elephant-mammoth hybrid. Colossal recently engineered grey wolf pups with 20 gene edits from the extinct dire wolf’s DNA.

Dire wolf pup
Colossal edited grey wolves to have traits from extinct dire wolves.
Colossal

The “Jurassic Park”-style revival of long-gone creatures has attracted considerable attention and funding, which has accelerated the development of genome engineering techniques. These same genome editing tools can be used for conservation of existing and endangered species. If we can edit a mouse to have mammoth hair, or edit a wolf to resemble a dire wolf, why not edit an endangered bird’s genome to make it more resilient to disease and climate change?

Museum specimens

Using DNA from historical specimens, scientists can identify important genetic variants that a species has lost. Many museums hold century-old skins, bones, or seeds – a genomic time capsule of past diversity. With genome editing, it is possible to reintroduce these lost variants into the wild gene pool.

By restoring genetic variation, species can be fortified against emerging diseases and environmental change. A sharp decline in population numbers is called a “bottleneck”. During a bottleneck, inbreeding and genetic drift lead to the random loss of genetic diversity. Harmful mutations can also increase in frequency. Such “genomic erosion” compromises the health of individuals and can make populations more prone to extinction.

If we can pinpoint a particularly damaging mutation that has become widespread in the population or a variant that has been lost, we could replace it in a few individuals using gene editing. Aided by natural selection, the healthy variant would gradually spread in the population.

If a threatened species lacks genes that it desperately needs to survive new conditions, why not borrow them from a close relative that already has those traits? Known as facilitated adaptation, this could help wildlife cope with threats such as climate change.

In agriculture, such cross-species gene transfers are routine. Tomatoes have been engineered with a mustard plant gene to tolerate cold, and chestnut trees got a wheat gene for disease resistance. There is no reason why such techniques cannot be expanded to animals.

These genetic interventions can complement, but never replace traditional conservation measures. Habitat protection, control of invasive predators, captive breeding programmes, and other on-the-ground action remain absolutely necessary. Importantly, gene editing only makes sense if the target population has recovered in numbers enough (often through conservation), to allow natural selection to do its job.

Measuring the risk of extinction

Gene-edited animals or plants wouldn’t have a chance if released into a barren habitat or a poaching hotspot. Genomic tools can give an extra edge to species that are already being saved from immediate threats, equipping them for adaptive evolution in the future.

Climate zones are shifting, new diseases are spreading, and once-isolated populations are cut off in small fragments of habitat. Without intervention, even intensive habitat management might not prevent a wave of extinctions.

However, a strategy of gene editing also comes with significant risks and unknowns. One technical concern is off-target effects – Crispr and other gene-editing techniques might make unintended DNA changes in addition to the intended edit. In other words, you attempt to insert a disease-resistance gene, but accidentally disrupt another gene in the process. Similarly, a gene may have more than one function, which is known as pleiotropy.

Especially in less-well studied species, we may not be aware of all those functions or pleiotropic effects. Regulatory inertia and public scepticism may also present big obstacles – these issues have historically limited the rollout of genetically modified (GM) organisms, particularly in agriculture.

There are also evolutionary and ecological uncertainties. A deliberate gene edit might have knock-on effects on how the species evolves over time. For instance, if one individual is given a highly beneficial gene that spreads rapidly, it could replace all the other gene variants at that location in the genome (the full complement of DNA in the organism’s cell). This is known as a “selective sweep”, and it inadvertently reduces the genetic diversity in that region of the genome.

Some critics argue that the narrative of a genetic quick fix could distract from the root causes of biodiversity loss. If people believe we can simply “edit” a species to save it, will that undermine the urgency to protect habitats or cut carbon emissions? Portraying extinction as reversible might seed false hope and reduce the motivation for tough environmental action.

Conservation efforts, strong environmental policies and legal protections remain indispensable. So do habitat restoration, climate action and reducing the impact made on the environment by humans.

Nevertheless, genome engineering is a new tool in the conservation toolbox. It’s one that –given the right assistance and environmental encouragement – can help save species from extinction.


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Cock Van Oosterhout receives funding from the Royal Society for conservation genomics work on threatened bird species in Mauritius, and a donation by the Colossal Foundation for conservation genomic research on the pink pigeon. He is member of the Conservation Genetics Specialist Group of the IUCN (International Union for Conservation of Nature).

ref. Gene editing technology could be used to save species on the brink of extinction – https://theconversation.com/gene-editing-technology-could-be-used-to-save-species-on-the-brink-of-extinction-261419

Understanding the violence against Alawites and Druze in Syria after Assad

Source: The Conversation – USA (3) – By Güneş Murat Tezcür, Professor and Director of the School of Politics and Global Studies, Arizona State University

Bedouin fighters at Mazraa village on the outskirts of Sweida city, during clashes in southern Syria on July 18, 2025. AP Photo/Ghaith Alsayed

In July 2025, clashes between the Druze religious minority and Sunni Arabs backed by government-affiliated forces led to hundreds of deaths in Sweida province in southern Syria. Israel later launched dozens of airstrikes in support of the Druze.

This eruption of violence was an eerie reminder of what had unfolded in March 2025 when supporters of the fallen regime led by Bashar Assad, an Alawite, targeted security units. In retaliation, militias affiliated with the newly formed government in Damascus carried out indiscriminate killings of Alawites.

While exact figures remain difficult to verify, more than 1,300 individuals, most of them Alawites, lost their lives. In some cases, entire families were summarily executed.

Although the Syrian government promised an investigation into the atrocities, home invasions, kidnappings of Alawite women and extrajudicial executions of Alawite men continue.

The violence in Sweida also bore a sectarian dimension, pitting members of a religious minority against armed groups aligned with the country’s Sunni majority.

A key difference, however, involved the active Israeli support for the Druze and the U.S. efforts to broker a ceasefire.

Post-Assad Syria has seen promising developments, including the lifting of international sanctions, a resurgence of civil society and the end of diplomatic isolation. There was even a limited rapprochement with the main Kurdish political party controlling northeastern Syria.

The persistent violence targeting the Alawites and, to a more limited extent, the Druze, starkly contrasts with these trends. As a scholar of religious minorities and the Middle East, I argue that the current political situation reflects their historical persecution and marginalization.

History of the Alawites

The Alawites emerged as a distinct religious community in the 10th century in the region of the Latakia coastal mountains, which today make up northwestern Syria.

Although their beliefs have some commonalities with Shiite Islam, the Alawites maintain their own unique religious leadership and rituals. Under the Ottoman regime in the late 19th century, they benefited from reforms such as the expansion of educational opportunities and economic modernization, while gaining geographical and social mobility.

After Hafez Assad, the father of Bashar, came to power in a coup in 1970, he drew upon his Alawite base to reinforce his regime. Consequently, Alawites became disproportionately represented in the officer corps and intelligence services.

Prior to the civil war, which began in 2011, their population was estimated at around 2 million, constituting roughly 10% of Syria’s population. During the civil war, Alawite young men fighting for the regime suffered heavy casualties. However, most Alawites remained in Syria, while Sunni Arabs and Kurds were disproportionately displaced or became refugees.

Several people, including women and children, stand next to parked vehicles.
Members of the Alawite minority gather outside the Russian air base in Hmeimim, near Latakia in Syria’s coastal region, on March 11, 2025, as they seek refuge there after violence and retaliatory killings in the area.
AP Photo/Omar Albam

Among Syria’s minorities, two key factors make the Alawites most vulnerable to mass violence in post-Assad Syria. The first factor is that, like the Druze, Alawites have their own distinct beliefs that deviate from Sunni Islam. Their religious practices and teachings are often described as “esoteric” and remain mostly inaccessible to outsiders.

In my 2024 book “Liminal Minorities: Religious Difference and Mass Violence in Muslim Societies,” I categorize the Alawites and Druze in Syria alongside Yezidis in Iraq, Alevis in Turkey and Baha’is in Iran as “liminal minorities” – religious groups subject to deep-seated stigmas transmitted across generations.

These groups are often treated as heretics who split from Islam and whose beliefs and rituals are deemed beyond the pale of acceptance. For instance, according to Alawite beliefs, Ali, the son-in-law of Prophet Muhammad, is a divine manifestation of God, which challenges the idea of strict monotheism central to Sunni Islam.

From the perspective of Sunni orthodoxy, these groups’ beliefs have been a source of suspicion and disdain. A series of fatwas by prominent Sunni clerics from the 14th to the 19th century declared Alawites heretics.

Resentment against the Alawites

The second factor contributing to the Alawites’ vulnerability is the widespread perception that they were the main beneficiaries of the Assad regime, which engaged in mass murder against its own citizens. Although power remained narrowly concentrated under Assad, many Alawites occupied key positions in the security apparatus as well as the government.

In today’s political landscape where the central government remains weak and its control over various armed groups is limited, religious stigmatization and political resentment create fertile ground for mass violence targeting the Alawites.

The massacres of March 2025 were accompanied by sectarian hate speech, including open calls for the extermination of the Alawites, both in the streets and on social media.

While many Sunni Muslims in Syria also perceive the Druze as heretics, they maintained a greater degree of distance from the Assad regime and were less integrated into its security apparatus.

Nonetheless, in recent months the situation deteriorated rapidly in the Druze heartland. The Druze militias and local Bedouin tribes engaged in heavy fighting in July 2025. Unlike the Alawites, the Druze received direct military assistance from Israel, which has its small but influential Druze population. This further complicates peaceful coexistence among religious groups in post-Assad Syria.

A sober future

Sunni Arab identity is central to the newly formed government in Damascus, which can come at the expense of religious and ethnic pluralism. However, it has incentives to rein in arbitrary violence against the Alawites and Druze. Projecting itself as a source of order and national unity helps the government internationally, both diplomatically and economically.

Internally, however, the new government remains fractured and lacks effective control over vast swaths of territory. While it pays lip service to transitional justice, it is also cautious about being perceived as overly lenient toward individuals associated with the Assad regime and its crimes. Meanwhile, Alawite and Druze demands for regional autonomy continue to stoke popular Sunni resentments and risk triggering further cycles of instability and violence.

I believe that in a post-Assad Syria defined by fractured governance and episodic retribution, the Alawites as well as Druze are likely to face deepening marginalization.

The Conversation

Güneş Murat Tezcür 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. Understanding the violence against Alawites and Druze in Syria after Assad – https://theconversation.com/understanding-the-violence-against-alawites-and-druze-in-syria-after-assad-255292

What Canada can learn from Australia on adequately protecting citizens at live events

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Sean Spence, Security Risk Management Pracitioner & Researcher, Royal Military College of Canada

In April 2025, a man drove an SUV through a crowd of people attending a Filipino cultural festival in Vancouver, killing 11 people and injuring dozens more. In response, the British Columbia government immediately commissioned an inquiry to examine the systemic causes of the incident and whether any lessons could be learned from the tragedy.




Read more:
Vancouver SUV attack exposes crowd management falldowns and casts a pall on Canada’s election


The commission came up with six recommendations based on gaps in the current municipal application and approval system for public events across the province.

One key recommendation was that all public events should be required to complete a risk assessment. This isn’t currently happening across the province. The absence of such analysis poses a risk for public safety.

Another recommendation was the creation of local knowledge capacity to support event organizers, particularly for small and rural events, where the expertise to conduct a basic security risk assessment is lacking.

Forseeable tragedy?

As I argued in August 2022, the live events industry lacks the same level of professionalism as other occupations. Many of these small event organizers are amateurs who lack the resources to properly deal with the security risks involved in holding their events.




Read more:
Canada could have its own Fyre Festival fiasco if it doesn’t amp up event regulations


These factors, combined with emerging security risks, meant that the tragedy at the Lapu Lapu festival could be considered a foreseeable event given the risk realities associated with modern mass gatherings.

The inquiry report highlighted how B.C. is lagging behind other international jurisdictions in terms of legislative pro-activeness in securing public events. This policy deficiency is actually a Canada-wide problem; the country is woefully behind other western nations when it comes to securing public events.

My doctoral thesis examined this very issue when I compared the regulation and application process to host public events in Canada and Australia’s largest cities.

Australia vs. Canada

Firstly, it’s important to note that Canada is a less safe country in terms of security than Australia, all things considered equal. Canada’s porous border with the United States means more illegal firearms are entering the country, resulting in more gun violence than in Australia, where there are more restrictive gun ownership laws.

The Lapu Lapu attack was not investigated as an act of terrorism, but in a related concern, Canada’s intelligence-gathering and national security laws place it at a counter-terrorism disadvantage compared to Australia.

Relatively speaking, research suggests Canada’s Charter of Rights and Freedoms hinders its security services from being able to detect and investigate terrorism-related offences given the greater importance placed on individual rights compared to Australia, where there is no such Charter equivalent.

Australia also has pro-active foreign intelligence collection capabilities to aid in its counter-terrorism efforts, while Canada’s CSIS agency only has domestic capabilities. That essentially requires it to import intelligence from its allies.

Given these facts, it would seem plausible that Canada would be at greater risk for security threats at public events — including terrorist attacks, active shooters, etc. — than Australia.

When I compared the data between both countries in my research, it suggested Australia has more public event regulation than Canada.

It was quantitatively shown that Australian officials require risk assessments and other proactive measures from event organizers, including for risk mitigation, while Canadian officials are mostly concerned with reactive security response plans — in other words, determining how organizers would respond to attacks after they occurred.

An analysis of event application documents in both countries reveal that Australian municipalities disproportionately emphasize “risk management” in approving events compared to Canadian municipalities.

Three ways the B.C. report falls short

The B.C. report missed out on examining several important elements.

Firstly, it did not take a holistic, deep dive into just how vulnerable public events are to myriad security threats — like active shooters, crowd crushing and terrorist attacks — but instead focused solely on the hostile vehicle threat.

It also failed to consider the urgency of governments to adopt policy changes in the face of emerging threats on public spaces, like drone attacks.

Secondly, the report made no mention of the need for law enforcement to develop stronger ties to share intelligence with event organizers as a proactive measure to protect mass gathering events from violence. The Hamas attacks at a music festival in Israel in October 2023 highlight the worst outcome of such failures.




Read more:
How Israel underestimated Hamas’s intelligence capabilities – an expert reviews the evidence


Lastly, there was no call for action or recommendation for the federal government to play a greater role in providing guidance to the industry and lower levels of government.

National security is a federal issue as well as the regulation of airspace for drones. In countries such as the United Kingdom, Australia and the United States, the national government provides guidance on protecting public spaces. There is no such policy leadership in Canada.

The B.C. findings show Canadian authorities have a lot of work to do to make public events safer for Canadians. With the FIFA World Cup coming to Canada next year, Canadian governments still have time to implement corrective actions to ensure soccer fans stay safe.

The Conversation

Sean Spence provides security consulting services within the hospitality industry.

ref. What Canada can learn from Australia on adequately protecting citizens at live events – https://theconversation.com/what-canada-can-learn-from-australia-on-adequately-protecting-citizens-at-live-events-261161

Understanding how Taylor Swift constructs her songs helps explain her phenomenal popularity

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Alexander Carpenter, Professor, Musicology, University of Alberta

In 2023, Forbes published an article about Taylor Swift that included the following mind-boggling statistic: 55 per cent of adults in the United States identify themselves as Swift fans.

In the wake of her recent epic world tour — which drew 10 million attendees and earned billions of dollars — Swift has clearly emerged as a modern singer-songwriter whose success and renown has no equal.

The same article reports that 73 per cent of those surveyed insisted that “Swift’s music is a driving force of their support of her.” But the abundant discourse surrounding Taylor Swift in the popular press, academia and online seems to be about everything but her songs.

In place of critical engagement with her musical work, Swift is credited for creating her own economic ecosystem wherever she goes, lauded for being a shrewd and powerful businessperson, described as an empowered and empowering feminist icon or branded a quintessential entertainer.

At this moment, Swift resides at the very apex of modern celebrity culture. Ironically, this makes it especially tricky to engage with Swift as a musician, which is the very basis of her fame.

As a musicologist, music critic and musician who studies and teaches popular music, there are ways to examine the musical meaning of pop songs. These approaches provide useful insights; after all, wasn’t it the music that drew audiences to Swift in the first place?

Studying Swift

Swift is increasingly taken seriously in the halls of academia. A number of universities offer courses dedicated to Swift, but typically not to her music as such: rather, many of these courses take a literary approach to her songs or a broadly sociological approach to her as a pop culture phenomenon, or they foreground her business model.

In his book There’s Nothing Like This, Kevin Evers, senior editor of the Harvard Business Review, regards Swift as a “strategic genius.” He examines how she identifies and exploits untapped markets, making creative and marketing pivots at key moments while protecting her image as a self-made, authentic singer-songwriter.

Evers focuses on non-musical elements when discussing Swift’s songs. He claims that Swift’s fans interpret her lyrics in a manner akin to the literary analysis of complex poems. Swift’s songs intrigue fans, Evers insists, primarily because they offer insight into her personal life, romantic travails and struggles with fame.

Of course, words are an important element of pop songs, and for many fans, the words of a song constitute its “about-ness.” But a pop song is a sonic object, not simply a delivery system for words.

Lyrical discourse analysis

Song lyrics are not poems, although they may be “like poetry,” as musicologist Dai Griffiths has argued. He points out that when we insist on thinking of lyrics as poetry, we lose a systematic understanding of how words function in songs. The placement and sound of words, and how they relate to the music, are key elements of a song’s musical structure and sense.

It is this discussion of the musical sense and meaning of Swift’s songs that is largely neglected.

The academic study of classical music offers a wealth of analytic methodologies; there are ways to examine the musical meaning of pop songs that do not over-analyze the song. These include looking at elements like form, orchestration, melody, harmony and rhythm.

A song creates space: its formal layout and the rhythm of musical phrases provide the space for words — what Griffiths calls the “verbal space” — which have their own rhythms and structures and work within but also push against the boundaries of this space.

Form and space

Consider Swift’s chart-topping 2014 single, “Shake it Off,” re-released as “Shake it Off (Taylor’s Version)” in 2023. This song, while popular, was criticized for its repetitiveness and lack of emotional depth.

“Shake it Off” doesn’t seem to have much lyrical content: the verses are short, rounded off with simple slant rhymes, and much of the created space seems to be filled with repetition: “I’m just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake/Shake it off, shake it off.”

Likewise, the song is built musically on some very basic and limited material, namely three chords, a short, unvaried drum loop and a spare bass line provided by a baritone saxophone.

The lyric video to “Shake it Off (Taylor’s version).”

The lyrics touch lightly on Swift’s response to fame and her critics, but it is their syllabic density that contributes to the song’s development and momentum. This gradually and sytematically increases over the first two verses and pre-chorus, until arriving at the chorus, where the space is filled almost completely.

The density of the music also increases in the choruses, with a thicker bass part, added vocals and a brass fanfare.

While “Shake it Off” is repetitive with little harmonic and melodic variety, it is also quite subtly counterbalanced with a variety of sounds, textures and densities. These move the song forward and importantly, help mark off the song’s formal sections.

These compositional and production details contribute to the song’s overall meaning. But how the words participate in the unfolding of the song-as-music, or the creation and shaping of the musical space, is also meaningful. The thrust of the lyrics emphasize Swift’s detachment from gossip and criticism: “I never miss a beat/I’m lightnin’ on my feet” and “But I keep cruisin’/Can’t stop, won’t stop groovin’”.

These lyrics are reinforced by the propulsive musical momentum of the song created by the gradual thickening of the text and music. Even with this thickening, the song still remains quite light, emphasizing the lyrical claims of detachment and distance from negativity.

The chorus, by contrast, with its deeply resonant bass, layers of background vocals and added brass, is musically the heaviest part of the song, underwriting Swift’s assertive claim that she will “shake off” the lies and gossip that plague her as a celebrity pop star.

Understanding Swift’s success

Collecting some musical information about Swift’s songs is not an abstract or intellectual activity; rather, it is essential information if we want to better understand Swift and her success in terms of her song writing.

I’m not making an argument here for or against Swift’s music; I’m neither a “Swiftie” nor a detractor. Nor have I offered anything like a comprehensive or definitive analysis of a song in this short article.

But I do think we should be curious and better understand Swift’s success, especially the popularity of her music across generations and demographics. How her songs are actually put together — how they work as music, in tandem with words, to tell stories — is an essential part of that understanding.

The Conversation

Alexander Carpenter 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. Understanding how Taylor Swift constructs her songs helps explain her phenomenal popularity – https://theconversation.com/understanding-how-taylor-swift-constructs-her-songs-helps-explain-her-phenomenal-popularity-247855

À bord de l’« Ocean Viking » (1) : paroles de personnes exilées secourues en mer

Source: The Conversation – France in French (3) – By Morgane Dujmovic, Chargée de recherche CNRS, Géographe et politiste spécialiste des frontières et migrations, Centre national de la recherche scientifique (CNRS)

Atelier sur le pont de l’_Ocean Viking_.
Morgane Dujmovic, Fourni par l’auteur

Cet article est le premier d’une série en quatre volets consacrée à un travail de recherche mené à bord de l’Ocean Viking, navire de sauvetage de l’ONG SOS Méditerranée. Morgane Dujmovic, géographe et politiste, a recueilli les récits de 110 personnes secourues en Méditerranée centrale pour mieux comprendre leur parcours. Ce premier épisode revient sur la méthodologie employée. L’épisode 2 est ici. Une version immersive de cette série existe également.


« Nous étions prêts à sauter. Nous avions tellement peur que les Libyens arrivent ! »

Je lis ces mots d’un jeune homme syrien dans le tableau de données. Ils sont issus de l’étude que j’ai coordonnée, de l’été 2023 à l’été 2024, à bord de l’Ocean Viking, le navire civil de recherche et sauvetage en mer de SOS Méditerranée. Ces mots ne sont pas isolés. Parmi les 110 personnes rescapées qui se sont exprimées via l’enquête par questionnaire déployée à bord, près d’un tiers ont décrit une peur semblable à la vue d’un navire à l’horizon : non pas la peur du naufrage imminent ou de la noyade, mais celle d’être interceptées par les forces libyennes et renvoyées en Libye.



Ces mots résonnent avec ceux de Shakir, un Bangladais que j’ai connu sur l’OV (surnom donné à l’Ocean Viking) :

« Tes ateliers nous ont rafraîchi l’esprit. Depuis la Libye et la mer, nous nous sentions perdus. Maintenant, nous comprenons le chemin parcouru. »

Portrait de Shakir.
Morgane Dujmovic, Fourni par l’auteur

Sur le pont de l’OV et dans les containers servant d’abri jusqu’au débarquement en Italie, j’ai proposé des ateliers participatifs de cartographie sensible. Une soixantaine de personnes s’en sont emparées, en retraçant les étapes, les lieux et les temporalités de leurs voyages par des cartes dessinées. Si je développe des méthodes de recherche créatives et collaboratives pour encourager l’expression des savoirs qui se construisent en migration, je n’avais pas anticipé que ces gestes et tracés puissent aussi contribuer à « rafraîchir l’esprit », se réapproprier des repères ou valoriser « le chemin parcouru ».

Ces mots résonnent aussi avec ceux de Koné, un Ivoirien rencontré à Ancône (Italie), une semaine après avoir été débarqué par une autre ONG de sauvetage :

« Le pire n’est pas la mer, crois-moi, c’est le désert ! Quand tu pars sur l’eau, c’est la nuit et tu ne vois pas autour : c’est seulement quand le jour se lève que tu vois les vagues. Dans le désert, on te met à cinquante sur un pick-up prévu pour dix : si tu tombes, tu restes là. Dans l’eau, tu meurs d’un coup, alors que, dans le désert, tu meurs à petit feu. »

Portrait de Koné.
Morgane Dujmovic, Fourni par l’auteur

Tous ces mots m’ont amenée à reformuler mes hypothèses sur les frontières et leurs dangers. Pourquoi prendre le risque de la traversée en mer, à l’issue incertaine ? Que perçoit-on du sauvetage, depuis une embarcation en détresse ? Comment vit-on les journées à bord d’un navire d’ONG ? Que projette-t-on dans l’arrivée en Europe, et après ? Si les sauvetages et naufrages font assez souvent la une des médias, les perceptions des personnes rescapées sont rarement étudiées ; elles nous parviennent le plus souvent à travers le filtre des autorités, journalistes ou ONG. Recueillir ces vécus, permettre aux personnes exilées de se raconter : c’était là l’objet de ma mission de recherche embarquée.

« Sur le terrain : Quand les cartes racontent l’exil », avec Morgane Dujmovic, The Conversation France, 2025.

Une recherche embarquée

À bord de l’OV, j’occupe le « 25e siège », habituellement réservé à des personnalités. Ma présence a quelque chose d’inédit : c’est la première mission SAR (Search and Rescue) qui accueille une chercheuse extérieure à une ONG. Pour le Département des opés de SOS Méditerranée, c’est l’occasion d’amener à bord une méthodologie de sciences sociales, nourrie par un regard distancié, pour tenter d’améliorer la réponse opérationnelle à partir des priorités exprimées par les personnes secourues.

L’Ocean Viking à Syracuse (Italie).
Morgane Dujmovic, Fourni par l’auteur

Côté navire, plusieurs membres de l’équipage expriment leur soutien pour ce travail, destiné à enrichir leurs pratiques, comme la compréhension de parcours d’exil auxquels ils sont confrontés depuis des années. C’est le cas de Charlie, l’un des anciens de l’ONG, impliqué depuis une dizaine d’années dans le perfectionnement des techniques d’approche et de secours des embarcations en détresse. En tant que SAR Team Leader, il coordonne les équipes des RHIBs (Rigid-Hulled Inflatable Boats), les bateaux semi-rigides d’intervention mis à l’eau depuis l’OV pour réaliser les sauvetages :

« Ce travail est vraiment utile, car nous cherchons constamment à nous améliorer. Mais la chose dont je suis vraiment curieux, c’est ce qu’il se passe avant. Je parle avec eux parfois, mais je voudrais en savoir plus sur eux. »

Quant à moi, si je travaille depuis quinze ans avec des personnes exilées, c’est la première fois que j’écris sur les frontières en étant moi-même dans la frontière – un sentiment d’immersion amplifié par l’horizon de la mer et par le quotidien confiné à bord de l’OV.

Navigation vers la zone d’opérations.
Morgane Dujmovic, Fourni par l’auteur

L’étude est déployée au fil de cinq rotations, missions en zone de recherche et sauvetage de six semaines chacune. L’ensemble du crew (équipes de sauvetage, de protection, de logistique et de communication) a été formé à la méthodologie d’enquête.

Issu d’un dialogue entre objectifs scientifiques et opérationnels, le protocole de recherche articule des méthodes quantitatives et qualitatives. Un questionnaire est élaboré autour de trois thèmes :

  • le sauvetage en mer (ou rescue),

  • la prise en charge sur le bateau-mère (ou post-rescue),

  • les projets et parcours de migration, du pays de départ jusqu’aux lieux d’installation imaginés en Europe.

Ma présence à bord permet d’affiner le questionnaire initial, pour parvenir à une version stabilisée à partir des retours de personnes secourues et de membres de l’équipage. Les données statistiques sont complétées, d’autre part, par des méthodes plus qualitatives que je déploie habituellement sur terre, aux frontières franco-italiennes, franco-espagnoles ou dans les Balkans, avec le projet La CartoMobile.

Ces ateliers itinérants visent la co-construction de savoirs expérientiels sur les frontières, en proposant aux personnes qui les franchissent des outils de cartographie sensible et participative pour se raconter.

Ateliers cartographiques sur le pont de l’OV.
Alisha Vaya/SOS Méditerranée, Fourni par l’auteur

Pour transférer ces méthodes en mer, j’apporte à bord de l’OV des cartes dessinées avec d’autres personnes exilées, dispose du matériel de création, aménage un espace. Dans ce laboratoire improvisé, je cherche à générer un espace-temps propice à la réflexion, pour faire émerger des savoirs mis en silence et les porter auprès du grand public. L’invitation à participer se veut accessible : l’atelier est guidé et ne nécessite pas de compétences linguistiques ou graphiques particulières ; le résultat esthétique importe moins que l’interaction vécue au cours du processus cartographique.

Ces enjeux scientifiques et éthiques rejoignent bien les préoccupations opérationnelles : durant les journées de navigation et jusqu’au débarquement dans un port italien, il faut combler l’attente, redonner le moral. Sur le pont de l’OV, la cartographie trouve progressivement sa place parmi les activités post-rescue dont certaines, à dimension psychosociale, visent à revaloriser la dignité des personnes rescapées et les préparer à la suite de leur parcours en Europe. Les mappings collectifs où s’affichent textes et dessins deviennent un langage et un geste partagé, entre membres de l’équipage et personnes secourues invitées à l’atelier.

Mapping collectif sur le pont de l’OV.
Alisha Vaya/SOS Méditerranée et Morgane Dujmovic, Fourni par l’auteur

The Conversation

Morgane Dujmovic 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. À bord de l’« Ocean Viking » (1) : paroles de personnes exilées secourues en mer – https://theconversation.com/a-bord-de-l-ocean-viking-1-paroles-de-personnes-exilees-secourues-en-mer-257597

À bord de l’« Ocean Viking » (2) : avant la mer, les périls des parcours

Source: The Conversation – France in French (3) – By Morgane Dujmovic, Chargée de recherche CNRS, Géographe et politiste spécialiste des frontières et migrations, Centre national de la recherche scientifique (CNRS)

Les parcours de migration des personnes recueillies à bord sont très variés, certains se résumant à quelques jours, d’autres s’étalant sur plusieurs années.
Morgane Dujmovic, Fourni par l’auteur

Cet article est le deuxième d’une série en quatre volets consacrée à un travail de recherche mené à bord de l’Ocean Viking, navire de sauvetage de l’ONG SOS Méditerranée. Morgane Dujmovic, géographe et politiste, a recueilli les récits de 110 personnes secourues en Méditerranée centrale pour mieux comprendre leur parcours. Ce deuxième épisode restitue les périls rencontrés avant de prendre la mer. L’épisode 3 est ici. Une version immersive de cette série existe également.


Vingt-et-une esquisses individuelles ont été fabriquées sur l’Ocean Viking (OV) au cours de ces recherches. Elles racontent des fragments de voyages, trajectoires plus ou moins fluides ou heurtées depuis le Bangladesh, le Pakistan, la Syrie, la Palestine et l’Égypte. Les parcours sont parfois très onéreux, mais rapides et organisés, comme ceux de certaines personnes bangladaises de Dacca à Zouara (Libye), en passant par Dubaï, en seulement quelques jours. D’autres s’étendent et se tissent sur plusieurs années, s’adaptant aux rencontres, aux ressources, aux dangers, et aux multiples guerres et violences dans les pays traversés.

« De Dacca à Zouara » (série de 10 esquisses individuelles sur les parcours du Bangladesh).
Morgane Dujmovic, Fourni par l’auteur
« De la Syrie à Zouara » (série de 11 esquisses individuelles sur les parcours du Moyen-Orient).
Morgane Dujmovic, Fourni par l’auteur

Parmi 69 personnes ayant participé à l’étude, 37,6 % avaient quitté leur pays d’origine la même année, mais 21,7 % voyageaient depuis plus de cinq ans – et 11,5 %, depuis plus de dix ans. Les parcours les plus longs débutent dans des pays aussi divers que le Nigeria, le Soudan, l’Érythrée et l’Éthiopie. Dans 60 % des cas étudiés, ils commencent en Syrie.

2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015… L’étalement régulier des dates de départ recueillies à travers l’enquête met en évidence la perpétuation des conflits qui suscitent les raisons de migrer :

« J’ai fui l’armée de Syrie. J’ai vécu trois années de prison et de torture, vu des scènes terribles. J’avais 18 ans, je n’avais pas l’âge de vivre ou voir de telles choses. »

Les motivations à poursuivre ces longs voyages sont souvent faites d’ambitions personnelles « pour une vie meilleure », comme le fait de « pouvoir étudier » ou « d’aider la famille » restée au pays, comme l’a expliqué un jeune Égyptien :

« Je suis le seul garçon de ma famille. Mes parents sont âgés et ils sont inquiets que je n’y arrive pas. »

L’étude auprès des personnes secourues a aussi permis de dresser un panorama des soutiens reçus et des dangers rencontrés en cours de route. Au même niveau que les ressources financières issues d’économies personnelles ou de sommes prêtées le plus souvent par la famille, près de 60 % des personnes répondantes ont mentionné l’importance de ressources immatérielles, telles que « les conseils d’amis », « le soutien psychologique du mari », « des informations et un soutien émotionnel d’une nièce ».

Les informations reçues de proches paraissent cruciales à certaines étapes du voyage : comme l’a expliqué l’un des répondants, elles relèvent d’une forme de soutien moral pour « survivre en Libye ». À l’inverse, une autre personne participante a confié qu’il lui avait été essentiel, « pour tenir bon », de cacher à sa famille les réalités de son quotidien libyen. Car c’est bien là que sont rencontrées la plupart des difficultés : sur les 136 situations de danger décrites dans l’étude, 50 % sont localisées en Libye – contre 35,3 % en mer, 8,8 % dans le pays d’origine et 5,9 % à d’autres frontières, le long des parcours migratoires.

Il est précisé que ces réponses ne reflètent pas une image exhaustive de l’ensemble des dangers en migration : elles traduisent les perceptions d’un échantillon limité de personnes secourues au large de la Libye et sont à restituer dans le contexte d’une collecte de données réalisée en pleine mer.

« Sur le terrain : Quand les cartes racontent l’exil », avec Morgane Dujmovic, The Conversation France, 2025.

Raconter la Libye

Les atrocités qui ciblent les personnes en migration en Libye sont désormais bien documentées. Elles apparaissent dans une multitude de documents – des rapports d’ONG (SOS Humanity, 2024), documentaires vidéos (Creta 2021) et témoignages directs de personnes concernées par les faits (Kaba 2019).

Les résultats d’une mission d’enquête indépendante du Conseil des droits de l’homme des Nations unies, publiés en 2021, ont permis de qualifier ces réalités de crimes contre l’humanité :

« Il existe des motifs raisonnables de croire que les actes de meurtre, de réduction en esclavage, de torture, d’emprisonnement, de viol, de persécution et autres actes inhumains commis contre les migrants font partie d’une attaque systématique et généralisée dirigée contre cette population, en application d’une politique d’État. En tant que tels, ces actes peuvent constituer des crimes contre l’humanité. »

Avec l’étude réalisée à bord de l’OV, les personnes participantes ont pu définir, avec leurs propres mots, la nature des dangers qu’elles y ont vécus. Leurs réponses ont ensuite été codées et regroupées en catégories permettant d’établir une typologie spatialisée issue de ces récits. Les citations associées aux données traduisent des expériences subjectives, incarnées, retravaillées par les émotions, mais assez convergentes et nombreuses pour reconstituer ce qu’il se joue en Libye.

Les mécanismes de violences rapportés sont systémiques : enfermements punitifs assortis de torture, traitements inhumains et dégradants, violences raciales et sexuelles dont on est victime et/ou témoin.

« Durant la première période que j’ai passée en Libye, j’ai été emprisonné six fois, torturé, frappé. Je ne peux même pas me rappeler des détails exacts. »

Ces violences impliquent des acteurs plus ou moins institutionnalisés : garde-côtes, gardiens de prison, mafias, milices et patrons, dont les rôles tendent à se chevaucher. Elles se produisent sur l’ensemble du territoire : Benghazi, Misrata, Sabratha, Syrte, Tripoli, Zaouïa, Zouara, pour les villes les plus citées dans l’enquête, mais aussi dans le désert et dans des lieux de détention de localisation inconnue.

Omniprésente, la perspective d’enfermements violents et arbitraires génère une présomption de racisme généralisé envers les étrangers :

« Le racisme que j’ai vécu en tant qu’Égyptien est juste inimaginable : kidnapping, vol, emprisonnement. »

Les personnes noires se sentent particulièrement visées par les attaques ciblées. Parmi celles qui en ont témoigné, un Éthiopien resté bloqué quatre années en Libye a décrit un sentiment de terreur permanent, lié aux multiples arrestations racistes dont il a été victime :

« Les gens se font kidnapper en Libye. Ils nous attrapent et nous mettent en prison car nous n’avons pas de papiers, puis nous devons payer plus de 1 000 dollars pour être relâchés. Cela m’est arrivé quatre fois, pendant deux semaines, puis un mois, puis deux mois et finalement pendant un an. Tout cela à cause de ma couleur, parce que je suis noir. Cela a duré si longtemps que mon esprit est trop stressé, à cause de la peur. »

Ce que confirme le rapport du Conseil des droits de l’homme de l’ONU :

« Il s’avère aussi que les migrants venant d’Afrique subsaharienne, qui représentent la majeure partie des détenus, sont traités plus durement que les autres, ce qui laisse penser qu’ils font l’objet d’un traitement discriminatoire. »

Cependant, les risques de kidnapping et rançonnage semblent n’épargner aucune personne exilée sur le sol libyen. Koné, par exemple, les a assimilés à une pratique généralisée et systémique :

« Il y a un business que font pas mal de Libyens : on te fait monter dans un taxi, qui te vend à ceux qui te mettent en prison. Puis on demande une rançon à ta famille pour te faire sortir. Si la rançon n’est pas payée, on te fait travailler gratuitement. Finalement, en Libye, tu es comme une marchandise, on te laisse rentrer pour faire le travail. »

Plusieurs personnes participantes à l’étude ont été prises dans ces mailles et leurs analyses a posteriori convergent sur un point : l’expérience libyenne s’apparente en fait à un vaste système d’exploitation par le travail forcé. Les faits rapportés correspondent, selon les définitions de l’Organisation internationale du travail (OIT), à la pratique de « traite des personnes » ou « esclavage moderne » et sont encore confirmés dans le rapport onusien :

« Bien que la détention des migrants soit fondée dans le droit interne libyen, les migrants sont détenus pour des durées indéterminées sans moyen de faire contrôler la légalité de leur détention, et la seule façon pour eux de s’échapper est de verser de fortes sommes d’argent aux gardiens, ou de se livrer à un travail forcé ou d’accorder des faveurs sexuelles à l’intérieur ou à l’extérieur du centre de détention pour le compte de particuliers. »

En définitive, à propos de la détention en Libye, c’est le sentiment de honte que Koné se remémore le plus péniblement :

« J’ai pitié de moi, de mon histoire, mais encore plus des gens qui sont allés en prison. Si ta famille n’a pas de quoi payer la rançon, elle doit faire des dettes, donc c’est un problème que tu mets sur ta famille. Il y en a qui sont devenus fous à cause de ça. »

L’apport des ateliers : le geste et le langage cartographiques pour témoigner

Si les bilans des périodes passées en Libye sont toujours amers, souvent effroyables, et parfois indicibles, l’étude a mis en évidence une volonté assez forte de témoigner de ce qu’il s’y passe, non seulement auprès du grand public, mais aussi pour celles et ceux qui pourraient entreprendre le même parcours :

« Je voudrais dire qu’en Libye, il y a beaucoup de femmes comme moi qui sont dans une situation très difficile » ; « Je n’ai pas grand-chose à dire, si ce n’est que tellement de gens souffrent encore plus que moi en Libye » ; « Je ne conseille à personne de venir par cette route ».

Pour accompagner ces récits, les ateliers cartographiques à bord de l’OV fonctionnaient comme une proposition, une occasion de se raconter sans avoir à poser des mots sur les expériences traumatiques. Conçu comme un mode d’expression, le processus cartographique reposait sur des exercices de spatialisation en plusieurs étapes.

Dans un premier temps, les mappings collectifs organisés sur le pont de l’OV ont permis de faire émerger les principaux thèmes que les personnes participantes elles-mêmes souhaitaient aborder, en fonction de trois séquences – « Notre passé », « Notre présent » et « Le futur que nous imaginons ».

Mon rôle consistait ici à instaurer un cadre d’expression idoine, aiguiller vers des techniques graphiques accessibles et permettre le partage des créations via l’affichage progressif sur le pont.

Mapping collectif sur le pont de l’OV.
Alisha Vaya/SOS Méditerranée, Fourni par l’auteur
Mapping collectif sur le pont de l’OV.
Alisha Vaya/SOS Méditerranée, Fourni par l’auteur

Des ateliers ont également été proposés par petits groupes ou de façon individualisée dans les containers, espaces plus propices à la confidentialité des récits intimes.

L’une des consignes suggérées consistait à représenter les zones de danger ressenties sur l’ensemble du parcours migratoire – d’où la Libye ressortait immanquablement. C’est à partir de ces cheminements personnels qu’un second exercice a pu être amené, pour celles et ceux qui le souhaitaient : décrire l’expérience du danger à l’échelle libyenne, en s’appuyant sur les lieux déjà évoqués.

Les personnes participantes étaient ensuite encouragées à compléter leurs esquisses par des illustrations personnelles et des légendes narratives dans leurs langues d’origine, traduites a posteriori en français.

« Un an et demi » : l’expérience de la Libye d’Ahmed

Traduction : Amine Boudani et Rafik Arfaoui.
Fourni par l’auteur

Sur sa carte, Ahmed, originaire de Syrie, dépeint « l’insécurité » à Tripoli, « les mauvais traitements et le prélèvement d’argent de force » à Benghazi, « le non-respect des droits » à Zouara.

Son illustration représente une scène de criminalité ordinaire et généralisée : « le Libyen » qui tire sur « les étrangers » évoque la violence collective qu’Ahmed spatialise dans « toute la Libye ».

Cette méthode cartographique sensible et participative a servi de langage pour livrer des récits difficiles à mettre en mots. Par-delà ce que ces gestes dessinés peuvent faciliter pour les personnes qui partagent leur histoire, ils permettent à celles et ceux qui découvrent ces violences de les recueillir, de les recevoir et de les restituer, en les replaçant dans l’écheveau complexe des repères spatio-temporels.

The Conversation

Morgane Dujmovic 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. À bord de l’« Ocean Viking » (2) : avant la mer, les périls des parcours – https://theconversation.com/a-bord-de-l-ocean-viking-2-avant-la-mer-les-perils-des-parcours-259738