Canada’s immigration system is going digital, and accountability must keep pace

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Marika Jeziorek, PhD Candidate in Global Governance, Balsillie School of International Affairs

Canada’s immigration system has long played a central role in the country’s economic and social development. Immigration accounts for most of Canada’s population growth and helps address labour market shortages across sectors. Settlement services support newcomers as they build lives and communities across the country.

As the number of people seeking to visit and immigrate to Canada grows, the way applications are handled is becoming more digital. This shift is reshaping how applicants interact with Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship Canada.

Through its Digital Platform Modernization initiative, the department has been rolling out new online client accounts, automated processing tools and digital visas as part of a broader multi-year transformation.

However, as processes become more automated, it can be harder to see how decisions are shaped or how to challenge them. The growing use of automated tools has long been linked to changes in accountability and institutional practice.

In immigration administration, these changes are becoming visible in everyday interactions with digital systems.

Operational pressures

Canada processes millions of temporary and permanent immigration applications each year, placing significant pressure on administrative systems and processing capacity.

Much of this work is currently done through the current Global Case Management System (GCMS). This system was introduced 20 years ago when immigration processing relied heavily on paper records and centralized operations.

However, the system was designed for a different era of immigration administration. When GCMS was first implemented, immigration processing still relied heavily on paper documentation and centralized administrative workflows.

Over the past two decades, both the scale and complexity of Canada’s immigration system have expanded significantly. As a result, IRCC has begun developing a new case-management platform intended to replace the GCMS as part of the department’s broader digitization initiative.

A digitized process

Immigration administration involves some of the most consequential decisions the federal government makes about a person’s legal status, mobility and protection. Today, most people applying for Canadian visas or residency begin the process online rather than through direct interaction with an immigration official.

Applicants typically interact first with online portals, automated messages and document-verification systems before their files reach a decision-maker.

These changes are institutional as well as administrative. Canadian immigration law now allows electronic systems to assist officers in processing applications and making decisions.

A woman sitting on a couch working on a laptop
As the number of people seeking to visit and immigrate to Canada grows, the way applications are handled is becoming more digital.
(Unsplash/Brooke Cagle)

Advanced data analytics help identify routine applications and speed up processing. Across the federal public service, similar technologies are increasingly used to support administrative decision-making.

Client portals also shape how applicants interact with the state by organizing how documents are submitted, how additional information is requested and how applicants receive updates about their cases.

Migration files are increasingly managed as digital case records that move across government systems. This means applications may be evaluated at several stages of processing rather than only when an officer makes the final decision.

For example, automated triage systems can classify applications as routine before an officer reviews them, while online client portals structure how applicants submit documents and receive updates throughout processing.

Automation and the applicant experience

While these reforms are designed to improve efficiency, they are also reshaping how applicants experience the immigration system.

For many migrants, immigration now involves prolonged interaction with digital systems, document verification procedures and automated communication channels. Applicants may need to repeatedly upload documents, respond to automated requests for additional information or monitor online portals for updates over months or even years.

Limited visibility into timelines or decision pathways can make it difficult to understand how cases are being assessed, resulting in prolonged uncertainty and new administrative burdens.

These experiences may appear to be technical issues, but they also reflect deeper changes in how immigration administration now operates.

The shift toward digital and automated administration also affects how immigration officers work. Automation and triage tools have been introduced to manage workload and improve productivity, while also reshaping how responsibilities are distributed across technical systems and administrative workflows.

Caseworkers are increasingly operating within infrastructures that pre-classify applications and structure decision processes. But instead of addressing the source of administrative strain, it’s simply reorganized.

Keeping automation accountable

Canada already has several oversight mechanisms in place, including algorithmic impact assessments required by directives on automated decision-making.

These measures represent meaningful progress toward responsible digital governance. However, as immigration administration becomes increasingly automated and platform-based, additional safeguards are needed to ensure accountability keeps pace.

Possible measures include expanding public documentation about automated triage systems, introducing independent review processes and ensuring clear pathways for human review. Such steps would better align digital modernization with Canada’s existing oversight frameworks for automated decision-making.

Canada’s immigration system is often described as rights-based and grounded in equity, fairness and inclusion. Maintaining public trust in that system depends on ensuring administrative decision systems remain transparent, contestable and accountable.

Automation and platform-based administration are reshaping Canada’s migration. Efficiency alone cannot sustain public trust. As Canada modernizes immigration administration, accountability must be built into digital systems as deliberately as the technologies themselves.

The Conversation

Marika Jeziorek 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. Canada’s immigration system is going digital, and accountability must keep pace – https://theconversation.com/canadas-immigration-system-is-going-digital-and-accountability-must-keep-pace-276741

Municipales : « Le triomphe autoproclamé du RN et de LFI ne correspond pas à la réalité »

Source: The Conversation – France in French (3) – By Frédéric Sawicki, professeur de science politique, Université Paris 1 Panthéon-Sorbonne

Si les bascules potentielles de grandes villes de gauche à droite (et inversement) sont mises en avant par les médias, elles demeurent rares. Les équipes municipales seront le plus souvent reconduites dans un scrutin qui échappe largement aux partis politiques. Les percées des partis « protestataires », RN et LFI, doivent, par ailleurs, être relativisées. Analyse du premier tour des municipales 2026 avec le politiste Frédéric Sawicki.


The Conversation : Quels sont les principaux enseignements du premier tour des élections municipales 2026, notamment en ce qui concerne l’abstention ?

Frédéric Sawicki : Selon les informations disponibles, le taux d’abstention est de 42,8 %. C’est bien moins que lors des municipales de 2020 qui furent perturbées par l’épidémie de Covid (55,3 %). Mais en 2014, l’abstention était de 36 %. Ces élections confirment donc la tendance continue, depuis le début des années 1990, de baisse de la participation en France, qui touche toutes les élections, sauf la présidentielle. Bien qu’elles soient présentées comme des élections de proximité, les municipales mobilisent moins de six Français·es sur dix.

Le changement de mode de scrutin dans les communes de moins de 1 000 habitants (la loi du 21 mai 2025 leur a imposé un mode de scrutin de liste paritaire et bloquée), qui représentent 70 % des communes françaises, a eu pour effet d’augmenter le nombre de communes où il n’y avait qu’une seule liste. Est-ce que cela a contribué à démobiliser les électeurs ? Il est trop tôt pour le dire.

Dans les grandes villes, les taux de participation sont très contrastés. À Paris, on est à 58,89 %, à Lyon à 64,45 % mais à Roubaix à 37 %. Cela s’explique en partie par un turnover important des populations – avec des personnes qui ne sont pas forcément attachées au territoire et qui ont du mal à identifier les acteurs et les enjeux municipaux. Il y a aussi le fait que beaucoup de décisions importantes sont désormais prises dans l’espace intercommunal, pour lequel les électeurs ne votent pas directement.

Mon autre remarque générale est que les médias se focalisent sur les villes où il y a un suspense, un risque de bascule, en cherchant à tirer des enseignements pour la présidentielle de 2027. Or, il est difficile de déduire de ces élections municipales des tendances générales nettes et des conclusions à propos des échéances nationales de l’an prochain. Les très grandes villes sont des vitrines pour les partis politiques, et pouvoir mettre en avant deux ou trois gains spectaculaires permet très largement de masquer le fait que, globalement, la plupart des maires de France sont reconduits dans leurs fonctions. En vérité, les municipales échappent de plus en plus aux partis politiques dans un contexte où de nombreux maires ne mettent plus en avant d’appartenance partisane, d’où la multiplication des listes « divers » (gauche, centre, droite, voire extrême droite) enregistrées par le ministère de l’intérieur.

Jordan Bardella, président du Rassemblement national (RN), a fait part de sa satisfaction au soir du premier tour en déclarant : « Les Français ont exprimé leur volonté avec clarté et, ce soir encore, une aspiration profonde au changement. » Son triomphalisme est-il justifié ?

F. S. : Le Rassemblement national va disposer mécaniquement en 2026 de beaucoup plus de conseillers municipaux qu’aux élections municipales précédentes. En 2020, il n’avait présenté que 325 listes contre 482 en 2026 si l’on inclut l’UDR d’Éric Ciotti, soit un surcroît de 4 300 candidatures. En revanche, il semble que, pour l’instant, il passe de 13 mairies à environ une vingtaine, ce qui reste modeste. En outre, en dehors de Marseille, Nice et Toulon, il n’est pas en situation d’avoir des conseillers municipaux dans la plupart des grandes villes françaises. Malgré un noyau électoral stabilisé depuis 2022 autour de 30 %, le RN se heurte à un plafond de verre faute d’alliés pour conquérir plus de villes. Là où il ne parvient pas seul à engranger la majorité, il doit compter sur le maintien des listes de ses adversaires pour espérer l’emporter à la faveur d’une triangulaire. Je relativiserais donc largement le message triomphaliste de Jordan Bardella à l’issue du premier tour.

Les Républicains (LR) pourraient-ils être tentés par des alliances avec le RN ?

F. S. : LR a peu de grandes villes, plutôt des villes moyennes et, là encore, les résultats devraient être stables. Le vrai problème de LR, comme du PS, c’est de conserver des élus qui s’affilient au parti plutôt que de jouer la carte « divers droite ».

Bruno Retailleau a appelé à faire barrage à LFI, considéré comme le seul ennemi extérieur à « l’arc républicain ». Est-ce une porte ouverte à des rapprochements avec le RN ? Pour l’instant, il ne semble pas que des fusions soient envisagées, mais il pourrait y avoir des désistements stratégiques entre LR et le RN. À Roubaix, par exemple, assistera-t-on à une fusion de listes LR-RN ou à un appel de la droite à voter RN sans pour autant fusionner ? Je pense qu’il peut surtout y avoir des dérives locales, des candidats divers droite ou anciens LR qui pactisent avec le Rassemblement national contre des postes d’adjoints. Bruno Retailleau ne maîtrise pas tout ce qui se passe localement et il peut fermer les yeux en assurant « Ce ne sont pas de vrais LR ». Cela est possible dans de petites communes, beaucoup moins dans de grandes villes médiatisées, car le risque de perdre une partie des électeurs serait important.

Jean-Luc Mélenchon, pour La France insoumise (LFI), s’est félicité d’une « magnifique percée » de son parti. Partagez-vous son analyse ?

F. S. : LFI devrait gagner Roubaix et a déjà gagné Saint-Denis, la plus grande ville de la couronne parisienne, c’est considérable, même s’il faut quand même rappeler qu’à Saint-Denis, c’est grâce à une alliance avec le Parti communiste français, qui, depuis longtemps, essaye de récupérer la ville perdue au profit des socialistes. Deuxième élément, LFI dépasse 10 % dans beaucoup de grandes villes, ce qui leur assure des mandats de conseillers municipaux qu’ils n’avaient quasiment pas jusqu’alors. Cela contribue donc à l’ancrage local d’un parti qui, jusque-là, était une machine présidentielle.

Pour la première fois, LFI a essayé, partout où c’était possible, de présenter des candidats – notamment dans les grandes villes ou dans les banlieues des grandes villes. De façon assez habile, le parti a mis en avant des candidats de la diversité, ce que les autres partis de gauche ont beaucoup plus de mal à faire. Des thématiques nationales et internationales – Gaza – ont été mises en avant, notamment la dénonciation des discriminations.

Reste que la performance de LFI est très contrastée. Si l’on compare aux européennes de 2024, il y a une forte progression à Toulouse, des progrès à Brest et à Clermont-Ferrand, mais pas de progrès à Lille, par exemple. Évry, en région parisienne, était considérée comme gagnable par LFI. Or, le candidat centriste a été élu dès le premier tour. À Paris, LFI a perdu des voix. Aux européennes, LFI y avait totalisé 16,7 % des votes et, dimanche, la liste Chikirou a obtenu 11,7 % : c’est une baisse très importante. Idem pour Nantes, Lyon, Nancy, Montpellier : LFI s’implante mais est loin de réitérer ses scores des européennes où le taux de participation était à peu près identique. Est-ce un effet des prises de position polémiques de Jean-Luc Mélenchon ? Est-ce un effet de l’union de la gauche choisie par le PS, Les Écologistes et le PCF ? Difficile à dire… Dans tous les cas, je relativiserais le « succès » de LFI. Ce qui est certain, en revanche, c’est que LFI pose un problème évident au Parti socialiste et aux écologistes : dans certaines villes, ces derniers ne pourront pas gagner sans alliance ou fusion technique avec le parti de Mélenchon.

Alors qu’ils avaient gagné de nombreuses villes en 2020, Les Écologistes sont-ils en pleine déroute ?

F. S. : Pour ce qui concerne Les Écologistes, il faut rappeler que la performance des villes gagnées en 2020 était en partie le produit de circonstances exceptionnelles : faible taux de participation, succès de Yannick Jadot aux élections européennes de 2019, discrédit des socialistes, mobilisation internationale en faveur du climat. Aujourd’hui, le contexte a complètement changé, et on pouvait s’attendre à des pertes. À Grenoble, à Bordeaux, à Strasbourg, les résultats ne sont pas très bons, mais pas si catastrophiques si on les rapporte, là encore, aux résultats des élections européennes et à l’inexpérience initiale des élus écologistes. Les résultats au bout du compte dépendront des fusions de listes, et la principale ville gérée par Les Écologistes, Lyon, contre tous les pronostics devrait leur rester acquise.

Quels sont les enjeux du second tour pour le PS ?

F. S. : Les dirigeants socialistes sont pris au piège de leurs divisions stratégiques vis-à-vis de LFI. En même temps, la forte autonomie laissée aux candidats locaux par Olivier Faure ouvre la porte à des arrangements pragmatiques. Il y a quelques risques de basculement de villes vers la droite, en cas de refus de désistement ou de fusion avec la liste LFI (Nantes, Brest, Clermont-Ferrand, peut-être Rennes). À Paris, l’avance dont dispose Emmanuel Grégoire semble le mettre relativement à l’abri de Rachida Dati. À Lille, Les Écologistes vont-ils s’allier à LFI contre le maire socialiste ? On va assister à une variété de configurations qui vont peut-être se traduire par des solutions ad hoc, des accords locaux. Ces accords vont-ils changer les relations du PS et de LFI sur le plan national d’ici 2027 ? C’est bien peu probable à court terme, tant les arènes politiques municipales et nationale sont aujourd’hui déconnectées.

Les résultats de Renaissance confirment-ils l’échec du macronisme à s’implanter localement ?

F. S. : Effectivement, Renaissance a raté le coche de l’ancrage local en refusant d’utiliser les moyens du parti pour développer des collectifs locaux. En 2020, le parti d’Emmanuel Macron a tenté de débaucher des élus sortants de centre droit ou de centre gauche sans beaucoup de succès, à la différence d’Horizons d’Édouard Philippe. Renaissance a quelques espoirs à Bordeaux ou à Annecy, mais cela restera maigre, d’autant que Christian Estrosi a de fortes chances d’être battu à Nice. Le parti de Gabriel Attal est totalement absent de Lyon, de Marseille et de Paris – alors que la capitale est un bastion électoral macroniste aux élections nationales. Les macronistes n’ont pas de quoi être optimistes, mais ils ne le sont plus depuis la dissolution de 2024. L’implantation territoriale du centrisme repose aujourd’hui surtout sur Horizons d’Édouard Philippe, l’UDI et le MoDem. Si on veut en faire un test pour 2027, je dirais que ces municipales semblent plus favorables à Édouard Philippe, bien placé au Havre, qu’à Gabriel Attal, qui dirige Renaissance.


Propos recueillis par David Bornstein.

The Conversation

Frédéric Sawicki 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. Municipales : « Le triomphe autoproclamé du RN et de LFI ne correspond pas à la réalité » – https://theconversation.com/municipales-le-triomphe-autoproclame-du-rn-et-de-lfi-ne-correspond-pas-a-la-realite-278452

Quel bilan pour les nouvelles « forêts urbaines » d’Anne Hidalgo ?

Source: The Conversation – France (in French) – By Serge Muller, Professeur émérite, chercheur à l’Institut de systématique, évolution, biodiversité (UMR 7205), Muséum national d’histoire naturelle (MNHN)

Forêt urbaine du parvis de l’Hôtel-de-Ville, à Paris, le 27 novembre 2025. Serge Muller , Fourni par l’auteur

En 2020, Anne Hidalgo s’engageait à faire naître quatre forêts urbaines à Paris. Qu’en est-il aujourd’hui ? Ces projets ont-ils vraiment fait naître des « forêts » ? Sont-ils suffisants à l’heure du changement climatique ?


Paris est une des pires villes européennes en temps de canicule. Pour changer cet état de fait, augmenter le nombre d’arbres parait plus que jamais nécessaire. D’autant plus qu’avec 14 % seulement de sa surface boisée en ne prenant pas en compte les bois périphériques de Boulogne et de Vincennes, et 21 % en les intégrant, Paris est aussi une des capitales les moins boisées d’Europe.

Afin d’améliorer cette situation, la maire sortante de Paris, Mme Anne Hidalgo, s’était engagée à planter 170 000 arbres au cours de la mandature 2020-2026. Parmi les opérations phares de ce projet figure la création de quatre « forêts urbaines » à Paris.

Six ans après ces promesses, et à quelques semaines des élections municipales, quel bilan peut-on faire de ces projets ?

Quels sont les sites concernés ?

Bien que les sites prévus aient changé du fait de difficultés techniques, la création des quatre forêts urbaines a pu être finalisée et elles ont été inaugurées avant les élections municipales des 15 et 22 mars 2026 : celles de la place de Catalogne en juin 2024, du bois de Charonne en septembre 2024 et du parvis de l’Hôtel-de-Ville en juin 2025. l’inauguration de la quatrième sur la place du Colonel-Fabien a elle eu lieu juste avant les élections, le 11 mars 2026.

Myrtus communis plantée dans la forêt de Charonne
Le myrte commun, arbuste méditerranéen planté dans la forêt urbaine de Charonne, 29 novembre 2025.
Serge Muller, Fourni par l’auteur

Le premier site correspond à la place de Catalogne dans le XIVe arrondissement. Cette place d’environ 1 hectare (ha), qui constituait un rond-point de circulation automobile avec initialement une fontaine au milieu, était totalement minéralisée et dépourvue d’arbres. Elle a été végétalisée sur 4 000 mètres carrés (m2) par la plantation de 470 arbres correspondant à 16 espèces différentes, soit une densité de 12 arbres pour 100 m2, complétés par la plantation de 1 200 arbustes.

Le deuxième site, plutôt linéaire, nommé bois de Charonne, est situé dans le XXe arrondissement sur une ancienne voie ferrée de la petite ceinture avec ses abords. Il couvre environ 2 ha. Près de 112 arbres de haute taille y ont été plantés parmi environ 7 500 jeunes plants d’arbres de 40 essences différentes, accompagnés d’environ 2 200 arbustes également d’une quarantaine d’espèces différentes. Cette nouvelle forêt est située en continuité d’un square existant de 1,5 ha, le « jardin de la gare de Charonne ». L’opendata de la Ville de Paris y comptabilise actuellement 295 arbres pour cet ensemble de 3,5 ha, soit environ 1 arbre pour 100 m2.

Présentation du bois de Charonne.

Le troisième site est localisé sur le parvis de l’Hôtel-de-Ville. Il est composé de deux espaces végétalisés, totalisant 2 500 m2, séparés par une partie centrale restant minérale.

Présentation du parvis de l’Hôtel-de-Ville.

Y ont été plantés, selon l’open data de la Ville de Paris, 46 arbres matures (atteignant jusqu’à 10 m de hauteur) de cinq espèces différentes (charme, févier d’Amérique, chêne chevelu, micocoulier de Julian et érable de Zöschen). D’autres arbres ou arbustes plus petits, d’espèces différentes (chêne à feuilles de phillyrea, arbousier, argousier), ont été plantés en périphérie de l’ensemble sur 850 m2, afin de renforcer la végétalisation de la place.

L’arbousier (photo de gauche et du centre) et le micocoulier de Julian (photo de droite) dans la forêt urbaine de l’Hôtel-de-Ville, 27 novembre 2025.
Serge Muller, Fourni par l’auteur

Le quatrième site, dont le chantier a été achevé, est localisé à la place du Colonel-Fabien (carrefour des Xe et XIXe arrondissements). Il correspond à la création d’une forêt urbaine sur 1 460 m2 avec la plantation réalisée de 79 nouveaux arbres.

Quelles caractéristiques de ces nouvelles forêts urbaines ?

Tous ces espaces ont été aménagés par désimperméabilisation de places minérales ou de friches ferroviaires, avec un apport important de terre végétale et la plantation d’arbres de taille déjà conséquente (hauteur de 3 à 7 m, voire davantage), accompagnés de plants d’arbres de plus petite taille et d’arbustes. Ces forêts ont été créées sur des superficies assez variables en fonction des disponibilités de terrain (entre 1 400 m2 pour la place du Colonel-Fabien et environ 20 000 m2 pour les nouvelles plantations du bois de Charonne). L’objectif est ainsi de constituer rapidement des espaces boisés relativement denses à partir d’un état initial de substrat minéral.

Chantier de la forêt de la place de la Catalogne
Chantier de la forêt de la place de Catalogne, 18 décembre 2023.
Serge Muller, Fourni par l’auteur

Mais ces espaces végétalisés sont-ils des forêts ? Pas vraiment pour la plupart, si l’on se fie à la définition retenue par l’Organisation des Nations unies pour l’alimentation et l’agriculture (FAO) pour qui le terme de forêt désigne un peuplement d’arbres d’une surface d’au moins un demi-hectare (5 000 m2) et ayant un couvert arboré d’au moins 10 %, ce qui signifie que, vue du ciel, la surface du sol recouverte par les cimes des arbres, doit dépasser 10 %.

Quelles différences avec les squares et les parcs urbains ?

Ces mini-forêts urbaines se rapprochent peut-être davantage des squares, jardins et parcs urbains de Paris, de type haussmanniens ou plus récents (comme le parc Brassens, dans le XVe arrondissement), en prévoyant également des aires de quiétude et de promenade pour les citadins.

Mais les boisements sont plus denses et les espaces de récréation plus petits dans ces mini-forêts urbaines que dans les squares, sans espaces de jeu prévus pour les enfants par exemple. La forêt urbaine de Charonne est un peu particulière à cet égard puisqu’elle est adossée au « jardin de la gare de Charonne », square de 1,5 ha créé en 1986, donc il y a quarante ans, sur l’emplacement de l’ancienne gare de Charonne.

Forêt urbaine de Charonne
Forêt urbaine de Charonne, 29 novembre 2025.
Serge Muller, Fourni par l’auteur

Ces forêts urbaines se veulent aussi plus « naturelles » en privilégiant comme essences de boisement celles qui sont indigènes dans le Bassin parisien ou la France hexagonale et en réduisant la part des espèces exotiques. Ainsi près de 60 % des arbres de la forêt urbaine de la place de la Catalogne correspondent à des essences indigènes dans le Bassin parisien, les autres étant de provenance subméditerranéenne, américaine ou asiatique. La même attention n’a toutefois pas été accordée aux arbustes puisque 95 % des plants introduits dans cette forêt urbaine correspondent à deux espèces originaires d’Extrême-Orient (la véronique arbustive et la menthe australienne). Quant aux plantes herbacées introduites, il s’agit principalement d’un patchwork de cultivars de fougères.

Forêt urbaine de la Place de la Catalogne
Forêt urbaine de la place de Catalogne avec fougères au premier plan, 20 avril 2024.
Serge Muller, Fourni par l’auteur

Plutôt qu’un mélange hétéroclite d’ensembles floristiques de diverses provenances, on aurait pu y expérimenter un cortège exclusivement subméditerranéen, afin de tester son adaptation aux conditions climatiques des prochaines décennies.

Ni véritablement des forêts selon la définition de la FAO, pas exactement des squares non plus, ces nouveaux espaces s’éloignent aussi d’un autre modèle : celui des micro-forêts Miyawaki, qui correspondent à des plantations très denses de jeunes plants (jusqu’à trois individus au mètre carré) de moins d’un mètre de hauteur et d’essences en principe uniquement indigènes. Or, ces nouvelles mini-forêts urbaines parisiennes ont pour la plupart des hauteurs de plusieurs mètres, pouvant même dépasser 7 mètres et aussi des densités bien plus faibles, de l’ordre d’un à une dizaine d’arbres pour 100 m2, sur des superficies en principe plus grandes, allant jusqu’à 2 ha pour les plantations du bois de Charonne.

Quel intérêt de ces nouvelles mini-forêts urbaines de Paris ?

Ces nouveaux boisements, devant nécessairement être adaptés aux potentialités et contraintes locales, sont assez diversifiés dans leurs dimensions et configurations (forme plutôt arrondie pour les anciennes places comme celles de Catalogne ou du Colonel-Fabien, au contraire allongée pour l’ancienne voie ferrée du bois de Charonne).

Forêt urbaine de Charonne
Forêt urbaine de Charonne, 29 novembre 2025.
Serge Muller, Fourni par l’auteur

Les compositions et structures des peuplements d’arbres et d’arbustes plantés apparaissent aussi assez variables, en fonction du contexte et des opportunités, mais avec toujours l’objectif d’adaptation aux conditions climatiques futures. L’intérêt de la prédominance d’essences régionales reste toutefois discutable dans ce contexte de changement climatique. La constitution de peuplements à forte diversité d’essences et structure hétérogène est un point fort de ces nouvelles forêts urbaines, qui doit permettre d’accroître leur résilience aux perturbations et aléas climatiques auxquels elles seront assujetties.

Ces plantations contribuent indubitablement, sur des surfaces certes modestes, à la végétalisation de la ville, ainsi qu’à l’augmentation de sa canopée et aux continuités écologiques. Il s’agit d’opérations pilotes, à fort impact médiatique et à coût relativement élevé, qui démontrent la faisabilité et l’intérêt paysager et environnemental de telles opérations de création ex nihilo de « forêts urbaines ». Il conviendra toutefois d’examiner leur évolution au cours des prochaines décennies.

Forêt urbaine de l’Hôtel de ville
Forêt urbaine du parvis de l’Hôtel-de-Ville, 27 novembre 2025.
Serge Muller, Fourni par l’auteur

Ces créations de forêts urbaines doivent nécessairement, comme prévu dans le « Plan arbre 2021-2026 » de la ville, s’inscrire en complémentarité et si possible en continuité avec d’autres types de plantations tels que des alignements d’arbres, des créations ou extensions de parcs et squares urbains, la densification des peuplements d’arbres dans les cimetières, les cours d’école, les places, les talus du périphérique et autres espaces ouverts. L’objectif doit être d’accroître encore sensiblement le recouvrement de la canopée dans la ville de Paris et la métropole du Grand Paris, afin de contribuer à mieux adapter ces territoires urbains aux conditions climatiques des décennies à venir.

The Conversation

Serge Muller est membre associé de l’Autorité environnementale de l’IGEDD (Inspection Générale de l’Environnement et du Développement Durable) en France et membre du Groupe sur l’urbanisme écologique (GrUE)

ref. Quel bilan pour les nouvelles « forêts urbaines » d’Anne Hidalgo ? – https://theconversation.com/quel-bilan-pour-les-nouvelles-forets-urbaines-danne-hidalgo-272531

Failing to succeed: Why post-secondary students need more room to mess up

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Melissa Gallina, Research Co-ordinator, Housing and Conference Services, McMaster University

University students today face a confusing mix of messages about failure. They hear from a variety of sources, sometimes including educational institutions, that it’s a normal part of learning, yet they move through systems where even small mistakes can have serious consequences.

Institutions may encourage reflection after setbacks, but the structural message is clear: failure is risky. A single low grade in first year can affect access to competitive programs, co‑op placements, scholarships and graduate school.

Our recent scholarship draws on interviews with university administrators and previous scholarship about dealing with experiences of failure to examine how students are caught between messages that celebrate failure as growth and systems that punish it. Navigating this contradiction leaves many feeling stuck.

When messages that failure is part of life collide with its sometimes costly consequences, students are often left to interpret failure on their own.

Many arrive at university with strong academic records, so their first disappointing grade can feel devastating. Administrators commonly shared that students are “terrified of failing” and “do not quite know how to cope with it.”

Students fear failing

Fear of failure exists for a reason. Universities sort, rank and evaluate students in ways that carry long-term consequences.

For students receiving scholarships or financial aid, even one challenging term can put essential funding at risk. Research also shows that students who fail a course are more than four times more likely to withdraw from it or leave university entirely.

Despite this, students hear that failure is central to learning. The 12 university administrators we interviewed in our study echoed this belief. Each was from a mid-sized, research-intensive institution located in southern Ontario.

One described making mistakes as “the most important lesson of higher education… messing up is the whole point… and learning [from it].”

Across other interviews, administrators similarly stressed that students should value failure as growth. At the same time, they acknowledged that students and instructors have to navigate the confines of current university structures, including grading and other merit-based opportunities.

Nobody teaches you how to fail well

Administrators also noted that many students enter university without the academic and executive functioning skills they need.

Time management, note-taking, independent learning and critical thinking take time to develop. When students who are still building these skills receive a low grade, they often interpret it as a reflection of ability rather than a signal to adjust strategies.




Read more:
Teaching university students how to learn matters for retaining them


Without guidance, this can spiral into self-doubt, anxiety and procrastination. Many first-year students hesitate to seek help because doing so feels like revealing weakness. It is common for students to look for “bird courses” — easier courses with lighter workloads.

This illustrates how some choose safer paths and avoid intellectual risk, limiting learning at the exact moment when support is most important.

Some students bounce back more easily

The consequences of failure are not felt equally. Administrators stressed that today’s students are increasingly diverse, and many balance course work with paid work, caregiving, commuting and financial responsibilities.

What used to be considered traditional student life is becoming less common. For students who work full time or care for family, a repeated course or reduced course load doesn’t just delay graduation. It can mean lost wages, extra child-care costs or increased debt.




Read more:
How universities relate with students changed in the past century, but a duty of care remains


Students from marginalized communities may face additional barriers. These students often encounter services that do not reflect their needs or require navigating complex systems, all of which can make asking for help feel harder than failing quietly.

As one administrator put it, institutions must ask whether students “see themselves reflected in your services.” When the answer is no, students are less likely to reach out, which compounds the impact of any setbacks.

Making room for mistakes

Many instructors already try to make failure a constructive learning experience. Practical strategies include offering low-stakes assessments early in the term, allowing revision and resubmission and building in reflection activities that help students understand mistakes.

Sharing personal stories of academic struggle can also help. One administrator described showing students their own first-year transcript to demonstrate that academic journeys are rarely perfect.

These practices reduce stigma and build trust. Students take more intellectual risks when they believe their environment is supportive. However, instructors work within wider systems that reward performance and ranking. Large class sizes limit feedback, students with disabilities face bureaucratic hurdles that make seeking help difficult and heavy workloads reduce time for check-ins. Without broader structural changes, even thoughtful instructors face limits.

How universities can fix the problem

Messages from some universities cannot continue encouraging students to embrace failure while universities maintain systems that punish it.

To resolve this contradiction, institutions should:

  • Rethink assessment and progression rules so that small setbacks do not have lasting effects. Expand low-stakes assessments and early feedback, especially in large introductory courses.

  • Co-ordinate support services so students can find timely help without navigating complex bureaucracies.

  • Consider how race, gender, disability, family responsibilities and financial pressures shape who can afford to fail.

  • Create outside-the-classroom learning opportunities that support the academic curriculum where students can mess up safely, without an impact on their grades. For example, Living Learning Communities provide space for like-minded students in residence to experience discipline-specific programming or activities without the in-classroom risks of failure.

  • Make spaces that support learning accessible through family-friendly scheduling and child care.

  • Give students more agency through flexible pathways, reflective practices and opportunities to revise and improve.

Failure will always be part of higher education. It can be a powerful teacher, but only when students have the support, time and agency to process it.

With thoughtful design, institutions can help students fail in ways that build confidence rather than fear and ensure that mistakes lead to learning instead of lost opportunity. Mistakes happen. Learning from them should be a requirement for students, not a privilege.

The Conversation

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. Failing to succeed: Why post-secondary students need more room to mess up – https://theconversation.com/failing-to-succeed-why-post-secondary-students-need-more-room-to-mess-up-275657

Beyond the ‘Spain is Different’ slogan: putting an end to tourist clichés about Spain

Source: The Conversation – France – By Jorge Villaverde, Historien, CRIMIC/Sorbonne Université, Institut catholique de Lille (ICL); European University Institute

Palma Nova beach – a popular European holiday destination in the Spanish Balearic island of Majorca, 1960. Antonio Verdugo, Legacy Luis Fernández Fuster, University of Zaragoza, Huesca. , CC BY

Spain’s image abroad and how it has evolved over the centuries was the focus of a recent episode of Karambolage, a TV show on Franco-German European culture channel Arte. It traced the evolution of the “Black Legend” from the 16th century to the tourist slogan “Spain is Different”, popularised in the 1960s, suggesting an almost natural continuity between older historical stereotypes and tourism marketing associated with the Franco regime.

In the programme’s account, Spain is today associated with sunshine and flamenco, after having long been burdened with a negative reputation. From the 16th century onwards, at the height of its colonial empire, Protestant rivals spread hostile propaganda that helped shape the so-called Black Legend, portraying Spaniards as brutal and backward. This view persisted, particularly in 19th-century France, where the doubly racist expression “Africa begins at the Pyrenees” placed the country on the margins of a supposedly more civilised Europe.

The episode presents the following sequence: the civil war, followed by the Franco dictatorship, reinforced the country’s international isolation. In the 1960s, the regime then opened Spain to tourism. Under the leadership of Minister Manuel Fraga Iribarne, an ambitious campaign centred on tradition was launched under the slogan “Spain is Different,” which is presented as the trigger for Spain’s tourism boom.

The problem with this narrative lies in the way it simplifies a much more complex process. Moving from the Black Legend to the ironic reappropriation of a Francoist slogan may appear coherent. This interpretation echoes recent research on the role of tourism in the construction of Spanish identity and its international image.

But by joining up the dots in this way, the TV programme revives historical clichés that recent scholarship has significantly nuanced.

A seductive but peripheral difference

While the video evokes the frustration of some Spaniards with the distorted images associated with their country, it nevertheless tends to reinforce the idea of a Spain defined by the external gaze. This stems from the processes of eroticisation and exoticisation developed in the 19th century by the hegemonic powers of France and Britain towards their former imperial rival.

These representations are neither simple contempt nor a linear continuity between anti-imperial propaganda and later forms of condescension. They place Spain within an ambivalent form of otherness that relegates the former empire to the margins of a modernity defined elsewhere. Described as peripheral, the peninsula is simultaneously invested as a romantic space and a source of political and artistic inspiration. Even if visitor numbers remained far lower than in France, Switzerland or Italy, Spain occupied a central place in the European imagination.




À lire aussi :
Tourisme culturel et mondialisation : l’Espagne, entre fiction et réalité


The 1900 world’s fair – Andalusia under Moorish rule. Alexandre Lunois.
Bibliothèque nationale de France, CC BY

Contempt and exaltation stem from the same dynamic. These clichés combine hierarchy and attraction, aestheticisation and distance. Admiration itself participates in a symbolic reclassification that assigns Spain a seductive but peripheral difference.

It is therefore not enough simply to complicate the French gaze. It is also necessary to avoid reducing Spain to the object of an external symbolic construction. Such a reading obscures the country’s own internal dynamics. Spain is not only shaped by foreign projections. It is also a space of internal debate and intellectual circulation that extends beyond its borders.

From the early modern period, Spanish thinkers questioned the legitimacy of conquest and fully participated in European intellectual exchanges. In the 19th century, Spanish exiles and travellers encountered the industrialisation of wealthier countries and the prominence of world fairs. These experiences fuelled fundamental debates about Spain’s place in modernity.

Presenting the country as trapped in a negative reputation passively endured amounts to overlooking these internal debates and transnational exchanges, which helped define its place in European history.

An ambivalent slogan

But the main blind spot of this narrative appears when we examine the history of the slogan itself. It is true that a widely shared memory attributes “Spain is Different” to the Francoist Minister Manuel Fraga. Yet research shows that the formula emerged as early as the republican years, circulated widely in the 1940s and 1950s, and that the campaign launched under Fraga was more its culmination than its invention.

“Spain is Different” appeared as early as 1932–1933 in a series of photographic posters produced under the direction of Rafael Calleja, a conservative senior civil servant who remained in office from the Primo de Rivera dictatorship to the Republic. The slogan notably accompanied the image of an alcaldesa of Zamarramala, a female figure symbolically invested with authority during the annual festival.

SPAIN – Spain is Different PNT/OTC. Photo Francisco Andrada, 1932-1933.
Arxiu Històric de la Ciutat de Barcelona AHCB4-205/C05

The choice is already singular and came at a time when the Republic was expanding women’s civic participation and profoundly transforming the political and social order.

During the civil war, the formula was quickly reappropriated. On the back cover of the magazine L’Esquella de la Torratxa, a family of English tourists contemplates a striking version of the poster. The “alcaldesa” is replaced by Franco, whose pose was meant to appear effeminate – a way of undermining him in the political culture of the time. Surrounded by a bishop, a colonial soldier and Nazi and Fascist officers, the motif of “difference” becomes political satire. It no longer refers to national particularities but to the spectacle offered to hesitant European democracies of the alliance between the putschists and the Fascist powers and their use of colonial troops.

International tourist propaganda – Visit Spain! David Santsalvador, La Esquella de la torratxa 13/11/1936.
Biblioteca Virtual de Prensa Histórica, CC BY-NC-ND

In the English-speaking press, the slogan also served as a key to interpreting the conflict. It often appeared in accounts marked by imperial condescension that presented a “different” Spain as an unstable anomaly within civilised Europe. This longstanding trope helped naturalise violence, presenting it as the supposed expression of an inherent otherness rather than as part of a broader European breakdown of order.

Neither the slogan nor its main promoter disappeared after the war. The formula was revived in the 1940s and 1950s, notably in the volumes Apologías Turísticas de España, directed by Rafael Calleja (1943, 1957), as well as in several photographic poster campaigns featuring the slogans “Spain is Beautiful and Different” and “Spain is Beautiful and Different: Visit Sunny Spain.”

In the post–civil war period, the emphasis on Spain’s singularity accompanied the regime’s efforts to break its international isolation and integrate into the Western order dominated by the United States. Tourism promotion was now primarily aimed at the North American public, while this singularity became a diplomatic resource intended to present the country as an acceptable partner within the Western bloc.

Franco and Eisenhower met in Madrid, December 22, 1959.
WikiCommons, CC BY

When Manuel Fraga relaunched a major campaign in 1962 under the slogan “Spain is Different,” the country was no longer isolated. The agreements concluded with the Holy See and the United States in 1953, Spain’s entry into the UN in 1955 and the Stabilisation Plan of 1959 marked its integration into the Western order and ushered in a period of very rapid growth. In the context of the post-war economic boom, tourism became one of the drivers of economic and social transformation. Spain was already welcoming nearly seven million visitors a year at the beginning of the decade and became part of an international leisure market alongside Italy and Greece.

The regime certainly sought to attract foreign exchange and improve its image. But reducing this policy to simple folkloric instrumentalisation oversimplifies a society undergoing rapid change. Administrators, entrepreneurs, artists and municipalities all participated in the construction of this new image. In an increasingly competitive tourism market, “difference” became a tool of differentiation. The rise of Spanish tourism is better explained by structural dynamics in post-war Europe than by the isolated action of a supposed providential figure.

Finally, implicitly contrasting a supposedly “backward” Spain with a “modern” Europe reproduces an old pattern that historiography has largely deconstructed. Spanish history should not be read as a trajectory lagging behind a supposedly normative European centre. Formulated in a prestigious cultural media outlet from wealthier countries, this opposition inadvertently revives older logics of cultural hierarchy.

From propaganda to reappropriation: when the slogan escapes the state

This same linear reading appears in the way the programme connects the Black Legend to the contemporary use of “Spain is Different,” as if these clichés had ultimately been internalised. Yet the slogan has had a long and contested history. From its earliest uses, it served to dispute the definition of the nation: in the conservative reaction to republican reforms, in antifascist satire during the civil war, in Anglo-Saxon narratives marked by imperial condescension, and later in a Franco regime first seeking US protection and then concerned with attracting foreign exchange and European recognition.

The Spanish example shows that ironic appropriation can constitute a form of critical distance. In the terms proposed by British sociologist Stuart Hall, this corresponds to an oppositional reading, in which a message produced by those in power is taken up and turned against them. The problem lies not in the irony itself but in the linear framework in which this history is placed.

It was not the last time. In 2012, the creation of “Marca España” by the Popular Party government – a party founded by Manuel Fraga at the end of Francoism – formed part of the neoliberal logic of nation branding. The organisation aimed to improve the country’s image abroad and among Spaniards themselves. Very quickly, the name became an object of sarcasm. At the slightest train delay, after a sporting defeat or a corruption scandal, a simple shrug was enough to prompt an ironic, “Marca España.”

Spanish distinctiveness has never constituted a stable essence. It has been a stake, a site of projection and conflict. Presenting it as a continuous thread linking longstanding stereotypes and Francoist marketing erases what matters most: Spanish “difference” has always been an object of dispute.


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The Conversation

Jorge Villaverde 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. Beyond the ‘Spain is Different’ slogan: putting an end to tourist clichés about Spain – https://theconversation.com/beyond-the-spain-is-different-slogan-putting-an-end-to-tourist-cliches-about-spain-277706

Sea levels around Africa are rising faster than the global average: what’s behind this alarming trend

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Franck Ghomsi, Postdoctoral Fellow, Nansen Tutu Centre, University of Cape Town

For over three decades, satellites orbiting Earth have measured the height of the ocean surface with remarkable precision. These measurements are crucial because changes in ocean height are one of the clearest indicators of how our planet is responding to climate change. Rising ocean surfaces signal warming temperatures, melting ice and shifting ocean currents.

These all directly affect coastal communities through flooding, erosion and habitat loss. Even a small rise in the baseline sea level means that normal tidal cycles and storm surges reach further inland. This can turn high tides into damaging flood events.

Many people assume ocean levels are uniform, like water sitting flat in a bathtub. In reality, the ocean surface is surprisingly uneven. Winds push water in certain directions. Ocean currents redistribute heat. Temperature differences cause water to expand or contract. Even variations in Earth’s gravity field create bumps and dips in the sea surface. All these factors combine so that sea level can vary by tens of centimetres from one region to another.

When we say sea level has risen, we’re comparing it to a stable reference level, the distance between the satellite and the ocean surface.

I’m an oceanographer and geophysicist who specialises in these measurements. My research team and I analysed ocean height measurements collected by radar instruments on orbiting satellites from 1993 to 2024, for all waters surrounding Africa.

Our analysis revealed that African seas have risen by approximately 11.26cm since 1993. This process is driven by warming waters and melting ice.

African sea levels are rising by approximately 3.54 millimetres each year, which exceeds the global average of 3.45 mm/yr. Perhaps more troubling is that the pace of rise is speeding up, especially in African waters. This acceleration is a long-term trend driven by ongoing ocean warming and ice sheet melting, and it persists regardless of whether any individual year features an El Niño or a La Niña. The ocean continues to absorb heat and receive meltwater from ice sheets year after year, and it is this relentless accumulation, not any single climate cycle, that drives the long-term acceleration.

Africa’s 38 coastal nations are home to over 200 million people living near the shore. Rising seas threaten these communities with flooding, coastal erosion, and saltwater contamination of drinking water and farmland. Rising and warming seas also disrupt fisheries that millions of Africans depend upon for food and livelihoods.

Dramatic changes

We analysed 32 years of records and isolated the long-term trends from short-term influences like the El Niño weather pattern. We also examined ocean temperature and salinity data from the surface down to 300 metres depth to determine how much of the sea level change was caused by the ocean warming and expanding versus gaining additional water mass.

Our study revealed something remarkable about the 2023 to 2024 period. The El Niño event, which every so often spreads warm water across parts of the Pacific Ocean and alters weather patterns around the world, combined with other climate phenomena. Together, they created the largest sea level spike ever recorded in African waters, reaching an anomaly of 27mm.

The most dramatic changes are occurring in specific regions. The ocean does not respond to warming and climate variability uniformly. Local factors, including the strength and direction of ocean currents, the depth of warm surface layers, the influence of nearby climate patterns like the Indian Ocean Dipole, and the shape of the coastline and seafloor, all combine to make certain areas far more sensitive to change than others.

The Western Indian Ocean, including waters around Mozambique, Madagascar and the Comoros Islands, shows the highest acceleration of sea level rise at 0.16 mm/yr² with a trend of 3.88 mm/yr.

The Eastern Central Atlantic, encompassing the Gulf of Guinea and waters off west African nations like Senegal, Ghana, Nigeria and Cameroon, follows closely at 3.90 mm/yr. These regions are experiencing both the fastest rise and the sharpest acceleration, making them priority areas for monitoring and adaptation.

Impact of El Niño

The western Indian Ocean and the tropical Atlantic were already abnormally warm in 2023-2024, with sea surface temperatures well above their long-term averages. This created a higher baseline from which El Niño could push up temperatures, and therefore sea levels.

Unusual wind patterns suppressed the normal process of upwelling. This is when winds push surface water aside, allowing colder, nutrient-rich water from the deep ocean to rise to the surface. The result was that heat was trapped at the surface instead of being mixed downward and replaced by cooler water. The ocean layers did not mix well.

The result was striking. Thermal expansion alone (warmer water) accounted for over 70% of the exceptional sea level rise during this event, reaching nearly 30mm across the African marine domain. Ocean heat content quadrupled compared to the 2015-2016 El Niño.

The 2023-2024 period contributed 2.34cm of rise, representing 19% of the total increase since 1993 in just two years.

Because sea levels have been steadily climbing for decades, the starting point before each new extreme event is already higher than it used to be. The Western Indian Ocean surged by 3.87cm in one year alone – nearly one third of its total rise since 1993.

What drives rising sea levels

Two main factors drive sea level rise globally. First, as ocean water warms, it expands. Second, melting glaciers and ice sheets in Greenland and Antarctica add water mass to the oceans. Both are consequences of human caused climate change.

This rise is not a natural cycle. While sea levels have fluctuated throughout Earth’s history, the current rate of rise is far faster than anything seen in thousands of years, driven by the burning of fossil fuels and the resulting buildup of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere.

The human cost of rising seas

Major cities face mounting dangers. Lagos, with over 20 million residents, sits on low lying land increasingly vulnerable to flooding. Dar es Salaam in Tanzania faces similar risks. Small island developing states like the Comoros and Seychelles are particularly exposed.

The “normal” water level today is centimetres higher than it was 30 years ago. Each new event builds on an ocean that is already swollen from decades of warming.

And when upwelling doesn’t happen, fish populations decline and the communities that depend on them lose food and income.

What needs to happen next

Addressing this crisis requires action on multiple fronts. Most fundamentally, global carbon emissions must be drastically reduced to slow ocean warming. Without achieving carbon neutrality by mid century, Africa risks exceeding 2°C of warming by 2100.

Adaptation is equally urgent. African nations need expanded ocean monitoring networks to track changes and provide early warnings. Coasts need protection through sea walls, restored mangroves and improved drainage.

The West Africa Coastal Areas Management Program, a World Bank supported regional effort, is a promising model. It aims to help countries manage erosion, flooding and pollution through investments in infrastructure, nature based solutions, and policy coordination.

Protecting Africa’s coasts requires combining oceanographic science with community level planning to build resilience against an uncertain ocean future.

The Conversation

Franck Ghomsi is a researcher at the Nansen-Tutu Centre for Marine Environmental Research in the Department of Oceanography at the University of Cape Town, South Africa. He is also affiliated with the Centre for Earth Observation Science at the University of Manitoba in Winnipeg, Canada, and the Geodesy Research Laboratory at the National Institute of Cartography in Yaoundé, Cameroon. He receives funding from Schmidt Sciences, LLC, and support from Canada’s C150 Research Program (Grant No. 50296).

ref. Sea levels around Africa are rising faster than the global average: what’s behind this alarming trend – https://theconversation.com/sea-levels-around-africa-are-rising-faster-than-the-global-average-whats-behind-this-alarming-trend-276888

Do dads of disabled children do enough? Kenya study points to misunderstood ways of caring

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Amani Karisa, Associate Research Scientist, African Population and Health Research Center

Fathers have a strong influence over whether and how children access schooling. David Geneugelijk/unsplash, CC BY

A child’s success at school doesn’t depend only on teachers and classrooms. Studies show that when parents engage with schools – by attending meetings, supporting learning at home and working with teachers – children tend to do better academically and socially.

In many African countries, fathers hold decision-making and financial authority within families. This gives them strong influence over children’s schooling.

But when a child has a disability – such as Down syndrome, epilepsy, autism or other conditions that significantly affect learning and daily functioning – a father’s involvement often shifts in complex ways.

Research from Kenya and other African settings shows that children with disabilities already face barriers to school access, continuity and support.

What is less well understood is how fathers engage with their education, and how ideas about masculinity, responsibility and disability shape that involvement.

Much of the existing research on parental involvement focuses mainly on mothers or treats parents as a single category. Fathers’ roles are often assumed rather than examined directly.

Our research set out to address this gap. My colleagues and I are education and disability researchers based in Kenya and South Africa. We looked at how a father’s involvement in the education of school-aged children with intellectual disabilities is constructed and negotiated in Kenya.

We studied a public special school at the coast that serves children and adolescents with intellectual disabilities. Like many such schools, it functions as a place of learning and a support hub for many low-income families navigating stigma, poverty and limited services.

We wanted to find out how fathers, mothers, teachers and learners themselves describe fathers’ roles, and what counts as involvement from their point of view.

The goal was to identify practical patterns: what a father’s involvement looks like in reality, what limits it and where opportunities exist to strengthen it. We found that many fathers see their main role in their child’s education as financial provision, such as paying school fees, rather than attending school meetings or events.

Social expectations also shape fathers’ visibility at school, with some avoiding engagement in spaces associated with intellectual disability. Work pressures in low-income settings further limit participation.

Our study also found that teachers’ assumptions about fathers’ disengagement can unintentionally reinforce their absence. However, when fathers do engage, their influence is often decisive because they are decision makers in many households.

Our findings challenge the assumption that fathers are simply absent or uninterested. They show instead that involvement often takes less visible forms that are shaped by economic pressures, social norms and school practices.

Recognising these patterns can help schools and policymakers design more effective ways to engage fathers and support children with intellectual disabilities.

The research

Our core evidence comes from case study research conducted in Kenya. Participants included fathers, mothers, teachers and learners with disabilities.

We collected data through individual interviews, focus group discussions and document reviews of school records and parent meeting notes. This allowed us to identify recurring patterns, not just individual opinions.

We extended the analysis by placing these findings within the broader Kenyan social and policy context of fatherhood, education and disability.

The findings cannot be assumed to represent all families. But they do reveal consistent mechanisms that likely operate in similar settings.

What to know about a father’s involvement

1. Many fathers see their main education role as financial provision

Across participants, one pattern was consistent: fathers strongly identified with the role of provider. Paying school fees, transport costs and buying uniforms and supplies was widely viewed – by fathers, mothers and teachers – as legitimate educational involvement.

Even when fathers rarely attended school meetings or events, they were still described as “involved” if they financed schooling. In contrast, mothers were expected to handle direct school contact and daily follow-up.

This means schools that define involvement only as physical presence may misread how the role of fathers is understood.

2. Masculinity norms shape how visible fathers are at school

Many teachers we spoke to linked the low attendance of fathers at school events to masculinity pressures. They suggested that some fathers avoided being publicly associated with a child with intellectual disability because disability was seen socially as weakness or imperfection that could damage male status.

Importantly, this interpretation came mostly from teachers. Fathers themselves framed their absence more often in terms of work and provider duties.

3. ‘Work demands’ are real – but also sometimes a shield

Fathers often explained non-attendance at meetings by pointing to unstable or casual labour conditions – missing a day’s work could mean losing income or even a job. In low-income settings, this constraint is credible.

But our research also found that fathers’ attendance was still low even when meetings were scheduled with advance notice or on weekends. Some teachers and mothers saw “work” as a socially acceptable explanation for fathers to protect their masculine identity.

Both readings can be true at once: economic pressure is real, and identity protection is also operating.

4. Teachers’ expectations can unintentionally push fathers away

Another finding is more uncomfortable for schools. Some teachers held strong prior beliefs that fathers of children with disabilities are uncaring or in denial. These assumptions shaped how, and how often, they contacted fathers.

Where teachers mainly communicated through mothers, fathers became even less engaged with the school. This confirms the original expectation.

5. When fathers are engaged, their influence is high

Where fathers did engage, their impact was often decisive. Their support accelerated school placement, fee payment and follow-through on school recommendations.

Teachers reported that when fathers backed a decision, implementation at home was easier. This suggests that increasing father engagement has practical effects on children’s educational stability.

What it means

The findings suggest that father involvement should be approached differently in disability education.

  • Schools should broaden what counts as involvement. Financial provision, decision support and consent are forms of engagement, even when fathers are not physically present. But schools should also create father-inclusive contact strategies. These include direct invitations, flexible meeting formats, and communication channels that do not rely only on mothers.

  • Teachers need to examine their own gender assumptions, so as to build relationships with fathers.

  • Policy messaging that links father involvement with protection, dignity and future stability may be more effective than messages around attendance.

  • Civil society organisations and family support programmes should design father-focused engagement spaces where men can discuss disability and schooling without stigma pressure.

It is too simple to label fathers as absent or resistant. In our study, fathers’ involvement was not missing – it was different.

The Conversation

Amani Karisa receives funding from Echidna Giving, Gates Foundation and International Development Research Centre.

ref. Do dads of disabled children do enough? Kenya study points to misunderstood ways of caring – https://theconversation.com/do-dads-of-disabled-children-do-enough-kenya-study-points-to-misunderstood-ways-of-caring-274745

Paleontologists uncover a new ‘Spinosaurus’ species by following a clue from a decades-old book into the Sahara Desert

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Paul C. Sereno, Professor of Paleontology, University of Chicago

In this illustration, _Spinosaurus mirabilis_ fight over a carcass some 95 million years ago in what is now the Sahara Desert in Niger. Dani Navarro

My fixation on a small, desolate locale in the heart of the Sahara Desert started with a single line buried in a 630-page tome in French about the rocks of the central Sahara: “Dent de Carcharodontosaurus saharicus Depéret,” which translates to “tooth of Carcharodontosaurus saharicus Depéret” – “Depéret” refers to the scientist who originally named the species.

The intrepid French geologist Hugues Faure (1928-2003) had collected one saber-shaped tooth in the early 1950s at a small exposure he labeled “Akarazeras” on one of his maps, identifying the tooth as belonging to the T. rex-size predator Carcharodontosaurus. That beast was named years before based on fossils in the Western Desert of Egypt, and Faure correctly figured the tooth and outcrop in Niger might be the same age. Faure’s tooth, unfortunately, was never figured or photographed and has been lost.

In the 70 years since Faure’s account, no paleontologist had ventured back to this hyperarid, windswept landscape to attempt to relocate Akarazeras. In truth, the tooth might have been all that was there, and the site itself could easily have disappeared under drifting dunes. Yet, after reading about it early in my career as a paleontologist, Akarazeras became my fossil Shangri-La, a place I dreamed of visiting.

Akarazeras relocated

With a small exploratory team in 2019, I followed a desert trail to the remote oasis of Tanout, the closest inhabited point to Akarazeras. There we refreshed our supplies – food, water and fuel – to survive a three-day foray in the open desert in search of the locale. Besides binoculars, we had a few gadgets Faure couldn’t have imagined: GPS hand units and a drone.

Navigating using Faure’s map brought us to a flat, barren spot with nothing in sight to the horizon. We drove several kilometers to the north, climbed to the top of our vehicles and launched the drone. One of my team members spotted a low rocky outcrop at distance.

Soon after arriving at the exposure, we found several Carcharodontosaurus teeth and, a short distance away, the rim of an infilled, hand-dug well. We had found Akarazeras. By the next afternoon, we had finished packing up a few dozen fossil teeth and bones. We probed in every direction and sent the drone farther to see if there was anything else to find. Nothing but sand.

A chance encounter

That might have been the end of the story had not a tall, lanky man arrived in our Tanout campground the evening we returned. Looking like a Tuareg Marvel character, Abdoul Nasser stood next to his Honda motorbike, dressed in a full-length black overcoat, a cheche head wrap, sunglasses and a sheathed sword slung over his shoulder.

“I can take you to some large bones, farther than Akarazeras,” he said in Tamasheq, with guides translating to French. This seemed more than a boast or scam. I decided to devote our final three days to this venture.

A man wearing a dark jacket and a blue headscarf with a motorbike, standing next to a man in a cowboy hat.
Our Tuareg guide to the site of the new Spinosaurus species, Abdoul Nasser, left, with paleontologist Dan Vidal, right, en route to the fossil area Jenguebi.
Alhadji Akamaya

A day and a half later, we had spent half our fuel chasing our motorbike guide over an endless dunescape. Just as we questioned going farther, Abdoul slowed to a stop in front of the largest fossil hind leg I had ever seen, its thigh bone nearly 6 feet (2 meters) long.

As the sun set, we scurried from skeleton to skeleton – it was a veritable dinosaur graveyard. The next morning we had a half-hour at this place locals called Jenguebi before we had to leave. I and my colleague, Spanish paleontologist Dan Vidal, quickly collected large jaw pieces of what we assumed was Carcharodontosaurus.

An overhead shot of two paleontologists standing in the desert, with large dinosaur bones sticking out of the sand.
Paul Sereno, left, and paleontologist Dan Vidal, right, next to the gigantic hind limb of a long-necked dinosaur moments after arriving at Jenguebi.
Matthew Irving/Fossil lab

Epiphany in the lab and field

Back in Chicago, the cleaned and assembled jaw pieces told another story. They belonged to the giant fish-eating dinosaur called Spinosaurus, which refers to a group of semiaquatic, T. rex-size beasts known from the northern shores of Africa.

For more than two years, plans to return to Niger were scuttled by the pandemic. Finally, in 2022, I led an international, 20-person field crew with a larger guard back to Jenguebi to see whether we could turn up more of the elusive predator.

I was busy arranging the campsite an hour after arriving when Dan Vidal approached, wide-eyed.

“You won’t believe what we just found … the snout end of our skull!”

The team quickly gathered around the toothed bone jutting from the surface of the desert, some in tears, bearing witness to an extraordinary discovery. The snout end fit onto one of the jaw pieces we had collected in 2019. Hours later, Dan approached again with a curved bone in hand.

“What do you think this is?” he asked, wanting confirmation for what we both immediately recognized as a landmark discovery.

A hand holding a large curved fossil with a piece of crest attached
Expedition member Ana Lázaro holds the cranial crest of Spinosaurus mirabilis at the Jenguebi site.
Alvaro Simarro

The scimitar-shaped bone he held came from the top of the skull. Unlike the low, fluted crest atop the cranium of Spinosaurus from Egypt, called Spinosaurus aegyptiacus, this bone swept upward and backward over the orbital – the space for the eyes. In the cool of the evening, the team gathering around Dan and his laptop to get a glimpse of an initial skull reconstruction, an assembly of digital versions of the bones we had discovered. In awe, we saw the Jenguebi spinosaurid for the first time, a spectacular southern variant of the sail-backed predator first described in Egypt in 1915.

Back in the lab, we coined a species name in Latin that captured our collective “astonishment” upon its discovery, Spinosaurus mirabilis.

A person typing on a laptop, which displays a rendering of a dinosaur's skull
The expedition team watches the laptop of paleontologist Dan Vidal to see the first digital reconstruction of the scimitar-crested skull of Spinosaurus mirabilis.
Expedition Impossible LLC

An organization I launched with Nigeriens, NigerHeritage, has visualized new museums in the country’s capital, Niamey, and closer to the fossil sites in Agadez that will preserve and display these and many other fossils. A secure homecoming for these remarkable finds also involves a new generation of Nigerien museologists, scholars and museums.

An inland fish-eater

Other animals at the site included two new long-necked plant-eaters, a partial skull of Carcharodontosaurus, a large skull of a freshwater fish and fossil wood. All of the fossils came from a layer of river-borne sediment less than a meter thick, indicating they lived in the same forested inland area far from a marine coastline.

In recent years, the giant fish-eater Spinosaurus has been depicted in Hollywood’s “Jurassic World Rebirth” as a swimming, diving ocean predator alongside other undoubtedly marine creatures like mosasaurs. In 2020, a team of researchers had reinterpreted Spinosaurus aegyptiacus in this way.

Dubbed the “aquatic hypothesis,” the key inspiration was the discovery that the sail on its back extended over its tail. The structure of the tail and other lines of evidence, however, led me and my research team to an alternative view of the fish-eater – as a shallow-water, wading, ambush predator with little capacity for swimming and none for diving.

Aside from its crest, S. mirabilis is very similar to its cousin S. aegyptiacus from the northern coast of Africa. Their lifestyles likely also were very similar.

An illustration of a long dinosaur with a tall crest.
A flesh model of Spinosaurus mirabilis.
Dani Navarro

Evolutionary stages

The early record of spinosaurids, known only from a few teeth, is rooted in the Jurassic, when they first gained a taste for fish. Over the past few years, researchers have found spinosaurid fossils in many locales in rocks of Early Cretaceous age in southern Europe and Asia, sites that once were near the ancient Tethys Sea. At that time, 115 to 130 million years ago, spinosaurids had split into two subgroups – baryonychines and spinosaurines – that collectively dominated the Tethyan realm as the largest predators of the day.

By the dawn of the Late Cretaceous, only spinosaurines remained as larger and more specialized and flamboyant fish-eaters on the southern side of the Tethys Sea in coastal and inland habitats.

S. mirabilis is among the last of these great predators. It is perhaps best understood as a “hell heron,” the likes of which we can only imagine when observing the more graceful, if less fearsome, herons of today.

The Conversation

Paul C. Sereno received funding from an anonymous donor for the 2022 expedition and subsequent research on the new spinosaurid.

ref. Paleontologists uncover a new ‘Spinosaurus’ species by following a clue from a decades-old book into the Sahara Desert – https://theconversation.com/paleontologists-uncover-a-new-spinosaurus-species-by-following-a-clue-from-a-decades-old-book-into-the-sahara-desert-274182

What was the very first plant in the world?

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Erin Potter, Lecturer in Geography and Ph.D. student in Earth Sciences, Binghamton University, State University of New York

Once plants really got a foothold, they transformed our planet. Albert Fertl/Moment via Getty Images

Curious Kids is a series for children of all ages. If you have a question you’d like an expert to answer, send it to CuriousKidsUS@theconversation.com.


What was the very first plant in the world? – Ivy, age 6, Phoenix


Long before dinosaurs roamed the land, Earth looked very different from the planet we know today. Around 500 million years ago, most of Earth’s surface was bare rock and dry soil. There were no trees, no grass and no flowers. Life existed almost entirely in the oceans.

Then something amazing happened: Plants began to grow on land.

This moment was one of the most important events in Earth’s history because it changed the planet forever. As a geoscientist, I am interested in changes in the diversity of flora and fauna – that’s plants and animals – over time.

Predecessors of plants lived in water

The story of plants begins in the water. The earliest plantlike organisms were simple, tiny green life-forms such as algae. You can still see algae today as seaweed along beaches or as green slime on rocks in ponds.

Magnified image of algae that look like little green blobs with two halves
Early algae were just a cell or two in size and drifted in water.
NNehring/E+ via Getty Images

Algae have lived in Earth’s oceans and lakes for over 1 billion years. They can make their own food, using sunlight, water and carbon dioxide to create sugars. This process is called photosynthesis; it releases oxygen – the gas we need to breathe – as a byproduct.

At first, Earth’s atmosphere had very little oxygen. Over millions of years, photosynthesizing organisms like algae and some bacteria slowly released oxygen into the air. This change, sometimes called the Great Oxygenation Event, made it possible for larger and more complex life to evolve. Without oxygen-producing organisms, animals, including humans, could never have existed.

Scientists believe the first true plants evolved from green algae around 470 million years ago. These early plants lived in shallow water near shorelines, where conditions changed often. Sometimes they were underwater, and sometimes they were exposed to air. This habitat helped them slowly adapt to life on land.

Getting a foothold on dry land

Moving onto land was not easy. Water plants are supported by water and can absorb nutrients easily, but land plants faced new challenges. How would they avoid drying out? How could they stand upright without floating? How would they get water and nutrients from dry ground?

To survive, early plants evolved important new features. One key adaptation was a waxy coating, called a cuticle, which helped keep water inside the plant. Plants also developed stronger cell walls that allowed them to stand upright against gravity. Simple rootlike structures, called rhizoids, helped anchor plants to the ground and absorb water and minerals from the soil.

The earliest land plants were very small and simple. They looked similar to modern mosses, liverworts and hornworts, which still grow today in damp places like forest floors and stream edges. These plants did not have true roots or stems, and they stayed close to the ground. Fossils of early land plants, such as Cooksonia, date back to about 430 million years ago and show small branching stems only an inch or two tall.

stiff-looking greenish branching stems with circular pods at the tips
An artist’s rendition of Cooksonia plants highlights their strong stems.
Nobu Tamura, CC BY-SA

Even though these plants were tiny, they had a huge impact on Earth. As plants spread across land, their roots helped break down rocks into soil, a process called weathering. This created richer soil that could support more life.

Plants also released more oxygen into the atmosphere, improving air quality and helping animals breathe. Plants created new habitats and food sources, allowing insects and other animals to move from water onto land.

Increasing complexity across millions of years

Once plants became established on land, evolution continued. Around 420 million years ago, plants evolved vascular tissue: tiny tubes that transport water and nutrients throughout the plant. This adaptation allowed plants to grow taller and stronger because water could be moved upward from the roots to the leaves. These vascular plants included early relatives of ferns and club mosses.

With vascular tissue, plant life really started to flourish. By about 360 million years ago, vast forests covered much of Earth. Giant ferns and treelike plants, some over 100 feet (30 meters) tall, dominated the landscape. Over time, dead plant material from these forests was buried and compressed, eventually forming coal, which people still use as an energy source today.

Another major step in plant evolution was the development of seeds, around 380 million years ago, found in seed ferns. Other seed plants, such as early conifers – a group that includes modern pine trees – could reproduce without needing water for fertilization. Seeds protected plant embryos and allowed plants to survive harsh conditions like drought or cold.

The most recent major plant evolution happened around 140 million years ago, when flowering plants, what scientists call angiosperms, appeared. Flowers helped plants attract animals like insects and birds, which spread pollen and seeds. Fruits developed to protect seeds and help them travel. Today, flowering plants make up most of the plants we see, including trees, grasses, fruits and vegetables.

The first plants didn’t just survive; they transformed Earth. They changed the atmosphere, built soil, and created ecosystems that allowed animals to thrive on land. Thanks to plant evolution, Earth became a green, living planet full of diverse life.


Hello, curious kids! Do you have a question you’d like an expert to answer? Ask an adult to send your question to CuriousKidsUS@theconversation.com. Please tell us your name, age and the city where you live.

And since curiosity has no age limit – adults, let us know what you’re wondering, too. We won’t be able to answer every question, but we will do our best.

The Conversation

Erin Potter 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. What was the very first plant in the world? – https://theconversation.com/what-was-the-very-first-plant-in-the-world-271828

The first modern rocket launched 100 years ago, beginning a century of both innovations and challenges for spaceflight

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Michael Carrafiello, Professor of History, Miami University

Robert Goddard, considered the father of modern rocketry, standing with a rocket in 1935. Esther Goddard/Hulton Archive/Getty Images

Apollo 11 first landed astronauts on the Moon in 1969, but the journey to the lunar surface actually began 43 years before, in snowy Massachusetts.

Exactly 100 years ago, on March 16, 1926, Robert H. Goddard launched the first liquid-fueled rocket. Liquid-fueled rockets would eventually provide the power to send humans to the Moon. Still, Goddard’s vehicle was small, flew for only 42 seconds, reached a height of a mere 184 feet and sustained damage that created more doubters than believers in the prospects for human space flight.

Despite this less-than-spectacular start to the space age, Goddard’s rocket was the beginning of a century of innovation. Today, hundreds of rockets launch each year. Giant liquid-fueled rockets combine liquid oxidizer – a substance that releases oxygen – and liquid fuel. These create chemical reactions that produce the explosive thrust necessary to propel humans to the Moon.

As a historian, I’ve spent 40 years studying the winding path that led to the development of modern rocketry. I’ve also seen how, over the past few years, private companies have played a much larger role in spaceflight than they did throughout most of its history.

Early days of spaceflight

After Goddard’s first liquid-fueled rocket launch, the development of American rocketry crept along at a snail’s pace until World War II. Nazi Germany’s invention of the V-2 missile proved that rockets could provide immense strategic and scientific value during both war and peace.

In war, the V-2 terrorized Britain and its allies. In peace, scientists looked at launching artificial satellites, or “moons” as they were originally called, to survey weather and boost intercontinental communication.

The United States government did not invest heavily in rocketry throughout most of the 1950s. Then, on Oct. 4, 1957, the Soviet Union shocked the world by launching the world’s first artificial satellite, Sputnik I. Millions of Americans feared that the USSR would soon rain nuclear missiles on them.

President Dwight D. Eisenhower and his advisers, however, displayed little anxiety at this prospect. They believed that America’s problems down on Earth were more urgent than those that might emanate from space.

Political pressure from the Senate majority leader, Lyndon B. Johnson, caused Eisenhower to reconsider. Late in 1958, the Republican president gave his consent for Congress’ establishment of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. This new agency then went about selecting America’s first seven astronauts, introducing them to the nation in 1959.

Americans to the Moon

The arrival of a new, young chief executive, John F. Kennedy, sharpened the United States’ commitment to space. In September 1962, the president publicly challenged the nation to land an astronaut on the Moon before 1970. To Kennedy, the enormity of such a scientific and public achievement would provide unimpeachable proof to the world that the American way was superior to life behind the Iron Curtain.

JFK’s untimely death in the autumn of 1963 only served to strengthen the nation’s commitment to the late president’s lofty goal.

A mere five-and-a-half years later, astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked on the lunar surface during the Apollo 11 mission. To get them there, NASA had spent nearly US$26 billion – $338 billion today. They had employed hundreds of scientists and engineers, and hired thousands of workers from dozens of contractors.

Yet, at almost the very moment the supreme triumph of Apollo 11 unfolded, public support for the manned space program evaporated. Preoccupation with the Vietnam War, economic inflation and nagging social and political inequality, as well as boredom with moonshots, led most Americans to turn away from the cosmos.

Richard Nixon, who followed Johnson into the Oval Office, slashed NASA’s budget. Three of the remaining lunar missions were abruptly and unceremoniously canceled. NASA had to abandon spectacular yet wasteful rockets like the Saturn V in favor of cheaper and more versatile launch vehicles.

Enter the Space Shuttle

Unlike earlier rockets, the next generation of rockets had to become almost completely reusable. The result: development of the Space Shuttle. NASA promised that the shuttle would launch no later than 1977 and that, when fully operational, it would rocket into orbit every two weeks.

Two large spacecraft sitting on launchpads.
The space shuttle Atlantis on pad 39A, left, and space shuttle Endeavour on pad 39B, right, stand ready at Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral, Fla., in 2008.
AP Photo/John Raoux

That vision never materialized. By the time the first shuttle finally took off in 1981, it was grossly over budget. Problems with the heat tiles necessary for reentry persisted. Ultimately, the shuttles never came close to launching biweekly. Instead, only six to eight missions per year proved feasible. Worst of all, the program would eventually sustain two heartbreaking tragedies.

In 1986, the space shuttle Challenger exploded 73 seconds after takeoff. In 2003, Columbia – the first shuttle to ever reach space – disintegrated as it reentered the atmosphere over Texas. The following year, President George W. Bush announced that the remaining shuttle fleet would retire no later than 2011.

NASA’s air of invincibility and inexhaustible stream of funding had long vanished. The final shuttle flight served as a coda to the heady days of the 1960s and ‘70s.

Subsequent presidents talked of missions to Mars and created a Space Force, but the old Apollo launchpads at Cape Canaveral were abandoned, or “mothballed,” as NASA termed it. Thousands of workers were laid off. Leadership in space passed to private corporations like Elon Musk’s SpaceX and Jeff Bezos’ Blue Origin.

Enter private companies

As early as 2006, NASA began contracting with SpaceX to launch its payloads and astronauts to the International Space Station. By 2024, SpaceX had realized the unfulfilled vision of NASA, launching on a nearly biweekly basis.

Meanwhile, while NASA’s Artemis program plans to send a crewed mission around the Moon using a launch system developed by the agency, the program remains years behind schedule. To date, it has cost at least three times more than originally budgeted.

A large rocket launching into the sky, surrounded by plumes of smoke.
SpaceX’s Starship rocket launching in October 2025.
AP Photo/Eric Gay

Across the Pacific, China has announced that it will place astronauts on the Moon by 2030, with missions to Mars planned after that. For America’s rival on the world stage, government, industry and science all move in concert. Compared with China, the United States’ future in space appears far less unified, coordinated and purposeful.

A dynamic president once galvanized the U.S. government and its people to produce a “giant leap for mankind.” But since that July day in 1969, leadership in space has steadily passed from government to private hands, with the future of American space flight appearing murky.

The Conversation

Michael Carrafiello 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. The first modern rocket launched 100 years ago, beginning a century of both innovations and challenges for spaceflight – https://theconversation.com/the-first-modern-rocket-launched-100-years-ago-beginning-a-century-of-both-innovations-and-challenges-for-spaceflight-269061