3 things to know about Kevin Warsh, Trump’s nod for Fed chair

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By D. Brian Blank, Associate Professor of Finance, Mississippi State University

Kevin Warsh has been tapped by Donald Trump to lead the Federal Reserve. AP Photo/Alastair Grant

After months of speculation, President Donald Trump nominated Kevin Warsh on Jan. 30, 2026, to be the next chair of the Federal Reserve.

If confirmed by Congress, Warsh will inherit leadership of the U.S. central bank at a delicate time. For months, current Fed Chair Jerome Powell has come under attack from the Trump administration for failing to heed the president’s call for lower interest rates. The fight has put into question the central bank’s independence and its role in stewarding the economy.

Powell’s term as chair will end in mid-May, leaving his successor to navigate an economy that has improved on some fronts but remains uneven and uncertain.

But what should America expect from the next Fed chair? Here are three things to note about Trump’s nominee.

1. He is a familiar face …

Warsh brings deep experience with monetary policymaking to the role.

A graduate of Stanford University and Harvard Law School, he served as special assistant to the president for economic policy and executive secretary of the White House National Economic Council under President George W. Bush before becoming one of the youngest members of the Federal Reserve Board of Governors.

Warsh is no newcomer to discussions about Federal Reserve leadership. He was a finalist for the job in 2017, when Trump instead appointed Powell. Trump has since stated that he made a mistake by not selecting Warsh then – though clashes between Trump and Powell may have influenced that view.

Two men in suits walk outside.
Fed Chair Jerome Powell increasingly found himself out of step with Donald Trump’s wishes.
AP Photo/Pablo Martinez Monsivais

Warsh’s credentials are unquestionable. As a governor of the Federal Reserve Board from 2006 to 2011, he worked closely with other policymakers and with Wall Street during the global financial crisis of 2008. Since departing the Fed, he has returned to Stanford as a visiting fellow at the Hoover Institution and a lecturer at the Graduate School of Business, as well as a member of the Panel of Economic Advisers of the Congressional Budget Office.

He also has ties to the finance industry. He began his career in mergers and acquisitions at Morgan Stanley and, since leaving the Fed, has worked as a partner at Duquesne Family Office, an investment firm that manages the personal wealth of hedge fund manager Stanley Druckenmiller and other investors.

In 2016, Trump included Warsh in an economic advisory group assembled during his transition. Critics of Warsh’s nomination point toward his father-in-law, Ronald Lauder, a college friend and donor of the president, as evidence of politicization.

2. … with evolving monetary views

The big question people have is what a Warsh Fed would mean for monetary policy – that is, is it likely to play tight or loose with rates.

When the economy is growing quickly, like in 2021, the Federal Reserve tightens policy by raising interest rates to avoid the kind of economic growth that may not be sustainable long term and can lead to bubbles. However, during downturns, like in 2008 or 2020, the economic policy that can provide a backstop for the economy is looser. The Fed tends to lower rates in these situations, which supports growth.

Warsh’s views on monetary policy have long been considered hawkish, meaning he is inclined toward tighter policy and generally higher interest rates to keep inflation in check, even at the expense of slower economic growth. During his previous tenure at the Fed, he signaled concern about expansive monetary tools such as quantitative easing, in which the central bank buys Treasurys and other securities to stimulate the economy. This resulted in what Warsh called a “bloated” Fed balance sheet that held almost US$9 trillion of debt at its peak in 2022.

In recent public remarks leading up to his nomination, however, he has increasingly aligned in part with Trump’s push for lower interest rates and discussed establishing a new Treasury-Fed Accord, like in 1951, when Fed independence from fiscal authorities such as the Treasury Department was established.

3. His nod highlights fight over Fed independence

A central question surrounding this nomination is whether it promotes the politicization of the Federal Reserve.

The Fed’s independence from day-to-day political pressure has long been viewed as a cornerstone of U.S. economic policymaking. Decisions about interest rates, inflation control and financial stability are insulated from electoral politics for that reason. A truly independent Fed can resist making decisions that provide a short-term economic bump – something incumbent governments tend to like – but may lead to longer-term economic pain down the road.

The Fed tends to use its monetary policy tools carefully. Yet politicians tend to want looser monetary policy so the economy grows fast and they get credit for it.

And Warsh’s nomination can be seen in the context of a broader push from the executive branch to exert greater influence over monetary policy. Given Trump’s public criticism of Powell and vocal calls for his early departure, the president almost certainly intended to nominate someone who would lower interest rates according to preferences stated by the administration.

Critics of the nomination have argued that Warsh has a tendency to be more opportunistic with his policy views than Powell and other economists, who try to ignore political preferences.

As such, Warsh’s nomination encapsulates more than just a leadership transition. It highlights the ongoing tensions between political priorities and the traditional economic playbook, between short-term growth pressures and long-term stability, and between institutional independence and democratic accountability.

Time will tell whether he turns out to be hawkish or politically motivated as chair, if he is confirmed.

The Conversation

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

ref. 3 things to know about Kevin Warsh, Trump’s nod for Fed chair – https://theconversation.com/3-things-to-know-about-kevin-warsh-trumps-nod-for-fed-chair-274781

Introducing our new Science & Technology editor

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Kim Honey, CEO|Editor-in-Chief, The Conversation

The Conversation Canada is thrilled to announce Heather Walmsley, one of the
founding editors who helped us launch in 2017, is returning to the fold. She was instrumental in establishing The Conversation Canada as an independent source of news and views from the academic and research community. Over the next three years, she edited science, education and health articles and helped grow our news coverage, audience and university membership.

Heather will be our Science & Technology editor, and these two beats are a key part of our mission to share trusted academic knowledge with the public. She comes to The Conversation Canada from the University of Victoria, where she worked for the Office of the Vice President Research and Innovation, raising the profile of health research across campus. She has worked in journalism, research and knowledge mobilization for a variety of media outlets, non-profits and research institutions in the United Kingdom and Canada.

Heather has MA degrees in anthropology and postcolonial literature from the universities of Edinburgh and Sussex, a PhD in science and technology studies from Lancaster University and held a SSHRC Banting Postdoctoral Fellowship in medical sociology at the University of British Columbia.

Her editing expertise, ideas and deep understanding of our mandate will be a boon to the newsroom. As The Conversation Canada matures from a scrappy startup to a trusted non-profit news organization, Heather will be a great asset on the eve of our 10th birthday. We can’t wait until she starts on Feb. 23.

Welcome Heather!

The Conversation

ref. Introducing our new Science & Technology editor – https://theconversation.com/introducing-our-new-science-and-technology-editor-274769

I’m a former FBI agent who studies policing, and here’s how federal agents in Minneapolis are undermining basic law enforcement principles

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Luke William Hunt, Associate Professor of Philosophy, University of Alabama; Institute for Humane Studies

U.S. Border Patrol agents stand guard at the Bishop Henry Whipple Federal Building in Minneapolis, Minn., on Jan. 8, 2026. Charly Triballeau/AFP via Getty Images

The Trump administration says federal agents have “absolute immunity” from prosecution in Minneapolis. Department of Justice and Homeland Security officials have indicated that criminal investigations into the killings by immigration agents of Minneapolis protesters Renee Good and Alex Pretti are inappropriate, declaring that both were domestic terrorists.

The killing of Good and Pretti raises legal, tactical and policy questions regarding law enforcement practices by federal agents.

In December 2025, the Department of Homeland Security launched “Operation Metro Surge” to enforce immigration laws in Minneapolis. The operation is being conducted by federal agents with the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement and the U.S. Customs and Border Protection. One of the stated goals of Metro Surge is to arrest the “worst of the worst criminal illegal aliens.”

Metro Surge has also affected the lives of U.S. citizens, including citizens protesting immigration enforcement efforts. On Jan. 7, 2026, Good – a 37-year-old U.S. citizen and mother of three – was shot and killed in her vehicle by an ICE agent on a residential street in Minneapolis. On Jan. 24, 2026, CBP agents shot and killed 37-year-old Pretti, a U.S. citizen, on a public street in Minneapolis.

As a policing scholar and former FBI special agent, I believe these cases illustrate how some federal agents are engaging with the public in a way that undermines established principles of policing and constitutional law.

Law of deadly force

The Fourth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution protects the “right of the people to be secure in their persons … against unreasonable … seizures.” A law enforcement officer’s use of force – including deadly force – is considered in law to be a seizure and must be reasonable.

In the 1989 decision Graham v. Connor, the U.S. Supreme Court construed the objective “reasonableness” of force based upon “the perspective of a reasonable officer on the scene, rather than with the 20/20 vision of hindsight.” The court explained “reasonableness” in light of the idea that police officers must sometimes make “split-second” judgments.

In Tennessee v. Garner, the Supreme Court in 1985 established that the use of deadly force to prevent the escape of a fleeing suspect is unreasonable unless the suspect poses a significant threat of death or serious physical injury to the officer or others.

These legal principles form the basis of DHS deadly force policy, which is similar to the policy I followed as an FBI agent: Law enforcement officers, or LEOs, “may use deadly force only when the LEO has a reasonable belief that the subject of such force poses an imminent threat of death or serious bodily injury to the LEO or to another person.”

The legal question raised by the Good and Pretti killings is whether the officers had a reasonable belief that Good and Pretti posed an imminent threat of death or serious bodily injury to the officers.

Moments before the ICE agent killed Good, the agent walked around Good’s parked vehicle filming Good with his phone in one hand. Good, sitting behind the wheel in her car, says “That’s fine dude, I’m not mad at you.”

As the shooting agent positions himself in front of Good’s vehicle, a second agent walks quickly toward Good’s vehicle and tries to open the door and reach inside. Good turns her steering wheel and tries to drive away – what a law enforcement agent could interpret as potentially an act of fleeing. The agent in front of Good’s vehicle shoots Good three times as she drives by him. He then mutters, “f-cking b-tch,” and walks away from Good’s crashed vehicle. There is dispute about whether Good’s vehicle grazed the agent.

Moments before Pretti was killed by federal agents, he was standing in a public street when agents approached him and sprayed him with a chemical agent. Pretti’s hands are visible and show that he is holding a cellphone.

The agents wrestle Pretti to the ground and repeatedly beat him with an object. Pretti is not seen brandishing a firearm. However, an agent approaches Pretti during the scuffle and appears to remove a firearm from Pretti’s waistband. Shortly thereafter, agents shoot Pretti 10 times. Pretti had kicked the taillight of a law enforcement vehicle – and was then tackled and tear-gassed by agents – 11 days before he was killed.

Some former federal prosecutors argue that these facts in the Good and Pretti cases warrant a thorough criminal investigation regarding whether federal agents illegally used lethal force in the killings. The central legal question is whether the evidence shows that the agents reasonably feared for their lives, or whether they acted unlawfully out of anger, frustration, retaliation or some other unjustified mental state.

Tactics, policy and split-second decisions

Beyond legal questions, Operation Metro Surge raises tactical and policy questions about DHS law enforcement practices.

State, local and federal law enforcement officers are required to follow firearms safety rules. While training at the FBI Academy at Quantico, I was required to learn and follow the cardinal safety rules, which include (1) treating all firearms as loaded, (2) keeping firearms pointed in a safe direction and (3) keeping one’s finger off the trigger until one is ready to press it.

These rules help keep officers and the public safe, including by preventing unintentional discharges of firearms.

There were multiple bystanders and officers in the immediate vicinity of both the Good and the Pretti shootings. That raised risks associated with unintentional discharges and jeopardizing officers’ ability to meet the requirement to respect human life.

DHS officers specifically are also required to “employ tactics and techniques that effectively bring an incident under control while promoting the safety of LEOs and the public,” which includes avoiding “intentionally and unreasonably placing themselves in positions in which they have no alternative to using deadly force.”

In both the Good and the Pretti cases, federal agents placed themselves in poor tactical positions that increased the likelihood of using deadly force.

When feasible, DHS agents are required to issue a verbal warning to comply with the agent’s instructions. Agents rushed to physically remove Good from her vehicle and similarly rushed to push Pretti off the street and then spray him with a chemical agent. There is reason to think the agents could have taken a more measured, composed and communicative approach to de-escalate the situation.

These tactical and policy principles reveal that the legal analysis of an agent’s “split-second” decision to use deadly force is not the only issue raised by these cases. Analysis of the seconds and minutes leading to the use of force is also crucial.

Many people in the nighttime standing next to a memorial of candles and signs about the killing of Alex Pretti.
Mourners placed candles at a memorial to Alex Pretti on Nicollet Ave. in Minneapolis, Jan. 24, 2026.
Jeff Wheeler/The Minnesota Star Tribune

Warriors in the community

ICE and CBP federal agents are not police officers. However, they are law enforcement officers engaged in policing. Operation Metro Surge has made these agents highly visible.

Instead of the more traditional, methodical and long-term investigations they normally conduct, federal agents are now routinely taking on more of a traditional police role in the public eye. This role ranges from managing traffic violations to maintaining order during chaotic public protests.

Although the surge has brought these agents closer to a traditional police role, they are pursuing a militarized warrior model of policing.

Masked federal agents in tactical gear roaming the streets of Minneapolis blur the line between civilian and military policing. Coupled with events such as the killings of Good and Pretti, it is unsurprising that public trust is eroding not only in federal law enforcement agencies such as ICE but also in police departments generally.

Policing is difficult work under any circumstance. If federal agents continue to increase their interactions with the public, I believe they will need to embrace tactics from community policing and what is called procedurally just models of policing. These models emphasize building popular legitimacy by reinforcing relationships – through honest cooperation and partnership between law enforcement officers and the public.

The rule of law

Publicly available facts and evidence raise significant questions about whether federal agents acted contrary to established principles of policing and constitutional law in the deaths of Good and Pretti.

The rule of law is a cornerstone of liberal democracies that limits the exercise of discretionary or arbitrary power by government officials. This idea includes holding officials accountable when there is evidence of unauthorized uses of power. A thorough investigation into DHS tactics, I believe, is necessary to preserve the rule of law.

The Conversation

Luke William Hunt 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. I’m a former FBI agent who studies policing, and here’s how federal agents in Minneapolis are undermining basic law enforcement principles – https://theconversation.com/im-a-former-fbi-agent-who-studies-policing-and-heres-how-federal-agents-in-minneapolis-are-undermining-basic-law-enforcement-principles-274573

South Sudan’s White Army explained: what it is – and what it isn’t

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Jan Pospisil, Researcher at the Austrian Institute for International Affairs

The UN issued warnings of potential mass violence between the South Sudanese government and the White Army in January 2026. A peace agreement ended a five-year civil war in the country in 2018. This was followed by a period of relative calm that ended in 2025 in the wake of clashes between the government and White Army. Attempts to bring peace since have faltered. The government has charged and suspended first vice-president Riek Machar over claims he commanded the White Army during the violence in Nasir, Upper Nile State. Jan Pospisil, who has studied South Sudan’s conflict dynamics, explains the origins of the White Army and its political impact.

What is the White Army?

The White Army is best understood as a set of temporary, community-mandated self-defence mobilisations, organised along sectional and clan lines.

The term “White Army” refers to the ash traditionally used in Nuer cattle camps to repel mosquitoes. The ash is smeared on the bodies and faces of young men and gives them a whitish appearance. The Nuer are one of South Sudan’s largest ethnic groups. They primarily keep cattle and inhabit the greater Upper Nile region.

Authority in the White Army flows upward from communities, not downward from political leaders.

The White Army’s orientation is primarily defensive: protecting cattle, land and local autonomy in an environment where the state is experienced less as a provider of security than as a source of threat.

But this defensive logic coexists with raiding and inter-communal violence.

Its history explains its ambivalent role.

The White Army grew out of Nuer youth self-defence formations that had existed since the 1960s.

In 1991, the White Army started to pro-actively use this name and was drawn into national conflict around the so-called Nasir split. This is when suspended vice-president Riek Machar and other predominantly Nuer commanders broke with John Garang’s Sudan People’s Liberation Movement. Garang, who died in 2005, was from another of South Sudan’s major ethnic groups, the Dinka.

White Army forces fought alongside the Nasir faction (led by, among others, Machar) and were central to a massive attack on Bor later in 1991. The Bor massacre led to the death of several thousand Bor Dinka, a sub-group of the Dinka people who primarily inhabit Jonglei State.

Attacks were carried out largely by White Army fighters pursuing revenge over cattle raids and local objectives that aligned only partially with Machar’s political aims. This is an episode Machar apologised for in 2011, saying he

was responsible for both the good things and the bad things that came as a result of the Nasir Declaration.

The apology was revealing. It acknowledged political responsibility without implying operational command.

The Bor massacre remains a dominant lens through which many Bor Dinka understand the White Army: as an organised anti-Dinka force opposing the ruling party. This is understandable, but is also a source of lasting misperception about how the group operates.

What’s the relationship between Riek Machar and the White Army?

Machar has benefited politically from White Army mobilisation. But he does not direct it.

His current prosecution is therefore deeply ironic. Machar is accused of commanding a force that has, time and again, demonstrated its structural resistance to sustained external control, including his own.

He is now being tried for exercising a form of command that he has long sought but never fully possessed.

From the 1991 Nasir split to the civil war between the government and the Machar-led opposition that erupted in December 2013 and the renewed violence of 2025, White Army forces have repeatedly fought alongside Machar’s forces.

However, the White Army exists as an amalgamation of community militias that are tied to particular areas rather than as one organised force. Their size depends on the capacity of regional leaders to mobilise the youth at a given time.

During the civil war, White Army mobilisations delivered some of the opposition’s most significant battlefield successes.

Yet these forces often withdraw once immediate objectives – such as the defeat of militias aligned with the government in a certain territory – are achieved. This leaves opposition units unable to hold territory.

The assumption that’s made is that these temporary alliances equate to control of the White Army. They don’t. Confusing the two has repeatedly distorted how South Sudan’s conflicts are understood – and mismanaged.

Conflating the White Army with the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement/Army-in-Opposition (SPLM/A-IO) serves a political purpose. It legitimises state counterinsurgency, including airstrikes over the course of 2025 that hit civilian areas. It recasts local resistance as elite manipulation.

But it also obscures deeper drivers of South Sudan’s violence: the collapse of civilian protection, the outsourcing of force to allied ethnic militias such as the Agwelek or the Abushok, and the ethnicisation of political belonging since 2013.

If the White Army continues to be misunderstood, the danger is further ethnicisation of South Sudan’s politics. This is where complex communal violence is reduced to criminal conspiracy and used to legitimise militarised state responses.

Treating political crises as matters for prosecution rather than compromise risks deepening the very dynamics that have fuelled South Sudan’s wars since 2013.

The state portrays the White Army as a terrorist group: why is this a problem?

In the case it has brought against Machar, the government is advancing a familiar claim: that the White Army is an armed wing of the SPLM/A-IO acting on Machar’s orders.

The charge matters. It underpins not only Machar’s prosecution, but also a wider narrative that treats community mobilisations as opposition conspiracy in South Sudan.

The claim rests on a fundamental misunderstanding of what the White Army is, and has been for more than three decades.

Firstly, the group draws on long-standing Nuer community self-defence traditions, even if it became politically visible in national conflict in the early 1990s. It is neither purely protective nor purely predatory. This makes the White Army difficult to incorporate into elite peace agreements, and easy to mischaracterise as irrational or terrorist.

Secondly, the White Army is not a standing militia, nor an insurgent organisation with a central command. Authority flows from the community.

To understand why the White Army mobilises as it does, it is important to consider December 2013. The mass killing of Nuer civilians in Juba at the outbreak of civil war marked a decisive rupture in South Sudan’s political order. Violence that had previously been mediated through elite rivalry and fragmented local conflicts became overtly tribalised.

For many Nuer communities, December 2013 was experienced not as a power struggle within the ruling party, but as an existential attack marked by mass killings, displacement and the collapse of civilian protection.

This interpretation – whether accepted or rejected by external observers – has shaped mobilisation ever since. White Army fighters interviewed by journalists and researchers over the past decade have been consistent: they did not fight because Machar was removed from office, but because Nuer civilians were killed.

And since 2013, Nuer diaspora networks across North America, Europe and east Africa have played a role in supporting White Army mobilisations. This support has taken multiple forms: fundraising, advocacy and social media campaigning, logistical assistance, and political pressure on opposition leaders.

Diaspora involvement reinforces White Army mobilisation by amplifying narratives of collective victimhood and unfinished justice, often from a distance that strips away the everyday constraints faced by communities on the ground.

As a result, South Sudan’s 2013 war did not merely fragment the state; it reshaped political identities far beyond its territory.

The Conversation

Jan Pospisil receives funding from the Peace and Conflict Resolution Evidence Platform (PeaceRep), funded by UK International Development from the UK government. However, the views expressed are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the UK government’s official policies. Any use of this work should acknowledge the authors and the Peace and Conflict Resolution Evidence Platform.

ref. South Sudan’s White Army explained: what it is – and what it isn’t – https://theconversation.com/south-sudans-white-army-explained-what-it-is-and-what-it-isnt-274656

« Psychose induite par l’IA » : un danger réel pour les personnes à risque, selon un psychiatre

Source: The Conversation – in French – By Alexandre Hudon, Medical psychiatrist, clinician-researcher and clinical assistant professor in the department of psychiatry and addictology, Université de Montréal

L’intelligence artificielle est de plus en plus intégrée à la vie quotidienne, des agents conversationnels qui offrent une forme de compagnie aux algorithmes qui façonnent ce que nous voyons en ligne. Mais à mesure que l’IA générative (IA gen) devient plus conversationnelle, immersive et émotionnellement réactive, les cliniciens commencent à se poser une question délicate : l’IA générative peut-elle aggraver, voire déclencher une psychose chez des personnes vulnérables ?


Les modèles de langage de grandes tailles et les agents conversationnels sont largement accessibles et souvent présentés comme des outils de soutien, empathiques, voire thérapeutiques. Pour la majorité des utilisateurs, ces systèmes sont utiles ou, au pire, sans effet délétère.

Toutefois, récemment, plusieurs reportages médiatiques ont décrit des personnes présentant des symptômes psychotiques, dans des situations où ChatGPT occupe une place centrale.

Pour un groupe restreint, mais cliniquement significatif (les personnes présentant un trouble psychotique ou celles à haut risque), les interactions avec l’IA générative peuvent être beaucoup plus complexes et potentiellement dangereuses, ce qui soulève des questions importantes pour les cliniciens.

Comment l’IA s’intègre aux systèmes de croyances délirantes

La « psychose induite par l’IA » n’est pas un diagnostic psychiatrique formel. Il s’agit plutôt d’un raccourci émergent utilisé par des cliniciens et des chercheurs pour décrire des symptômes psychotiques façonnés, intensifiés ou structurés autour d’interactions avec des systèmes d’IA.

La psychose implique une perte de contact avec la réalité partagée avec le monde extérieur et intérieur. Les hallucinations, les idées délirantes et la désorganisation de la pensée en constituent les manifestations centrales. Les délires psychotiques s’appuient fréquemment sur des éléments culturels (religion, technologie ou structures de pouvoir politique) afin de donner sens à des expériences internes.

Historiquement, les thèmes délirants ont fait référence à divers objets ou forces, tels que Dieu, les ondes radio ou la surveillance gouvernementale. Aujourd’hui, l’intelligence artificielle offre une nouvelle avenue narrative.

Certains patients rapportent des croyances selon lesquelles l’IA générative serait consciente, transmettrait des vérités secrètes, contrôlerait leurs pensées ou collaborerait avec eux dans le cadre d’une mission spéciale. Ces thématiques s’inscrivent dans des schémas bien établis de la psychose, mais l’IA y ajoute un degré d’interactivité et de renforcement que les technologies antérieures n’offraient pas.




À lire aussi :
Se diagnostiquer grâce à l’IA : voici le potentiel et les pièges des applis en santé


Le risque d’une validation sans ancrage dans la réalité

La psychose est fortement associée à la saillance aberrante, soit la tendance à attribuer une signification excessive à des événements neutres. Les systèmes d’IA conversationnelle sont, par conception, capables de générer un langage réactif, cohérent et sensible au contexte. Chez une personne présentant une psychose émergente, cela peut être vécu comme une confirmation troublante, voire dérangeante.

Les recherches sur la psychose montrent que la validation excessive et la personnalisation peuvent intensifier les systèmes de croyances délirantes. L’IA générative est optimisée pour poursuivre les conversations, refléter le langage de l’utilisateur et s’adapter à l’intention perçue.

Si cela est sans conséquence pour la plupart des utilisateurs, ces mécanismes peuvent renforcer involontairement des interprétations déformées chez des personnes dont le test de réalité est altéré — c’est-à-dire la capacité à distinguer les pensées internes et l’imaginaire de la réalité objective et externe.

Il existe également des données indiquant que l’isolement social et la solitude augmentent le risque de psychose. Les compagnons d’IA générative peuvent réduire la solitude à court terme, mais ils peuvent aussi se substituer aux relations humaines.

Cela concerne tout particulièrement les personnes déjà en retrait des interactions sociales. Cette dynamique rappelle les préoccupations antérieures liées à l’usage excessif d’Internet et à la santé mentale, mais la profondeur conversationnelle de l’IA générative contemporaine est qualitativement différente.




À lire aussi :
L’IA gagne du terrain en santé. Comment les ordres professionnels peuvent-ils l’encadrer ?


Ce que la recherche nous apprend, et ce qui reste incertain

À ce jour, aucune donnée probante n’indique que l’IA cause directement une psychose.

Les troubles psychotiques sont multifactoriels et peuvent impliquer une vulnérabilité génétique, des facteurs neurodéveloppementaux, des traumatismes et l’usage de substances. Toutefois, certaines préoccupations cliniques suggèrent que l’IA pourrait agir comme facteur précipitant ou de maintien chez des individus vulnérables.

Des rapports de cas et des études qualitatives portant sur les médias numériques et la psychose montrent que les thématiques technologiques s’intègrent fréquemment aux contenus délirants, en particulier lors des premiers épisodes psychotiques.

Les recherches sur les algorithmes des médias sociaux ont déjà démontré que des systèmes automatisés peuvent amplifier des croyances extrêmes par des boucles de renforcement. Les systèmes de clavardage fondés sur l’IA pourraient présenter des risques similaires si les garde-fous sont insuffisants.

Il est important de souligner que la plupart des développeurs d’IA ne conçoivent pas leurs systèmes en pensant aux personnes vivant avec des troubles mentaux sévères. Les mécanismes de sécurité tendent à se concentrer sur l’automutilation ou la violence, plutôt que sur la psychose. Cela crée un décalage entre les connaissances en santé mentale et le déploiement des technologies d’IA.

Les enjeux éthiques et les implications cliniques

Du point de vue de la santé mentale, l’enjeu n’est pas de diaboliser l’IA, mais de reconnaître les vulnérabilités individuelles.

De la même manière que certains médicaments ou substances comportent des risques accrus pour les personnes vivant avec un trouble psychotique, certaines formes d’interaction avec l’IA peuvent nécessiter une prudence particulière.

Les cliniciens commencent à rencontrer des contenus liés à l’IA intégrés aux idées délirantes, mais peu de lignes directrices cliniques abordent la manière d’évaluer ou de prendre en charge ces situations. Les thérapeutes devraient-ils interroger l’usage de l’IA générative de la même façon qu’ils questionnent la consommation de substances ? Les systèmes d’IA devraient-ils détecter et désamorcer les idées psychotiques plutôt que d’y engager la conversation ?

Des questions éthiques se posent également pour les développeurs. Lorsqu’un système d’IA apparaît empathique et doté d’une autorité perçue, porte-t-il une forme de devoir de diligence ? Et qui est responsable lorsqu’un système renforce involontairement une idée délirante ?


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Faire le pont entre la conception de l’IA et les soins en santé mentale

L’IA n’est pas appelée à disparaître. L’enjeu consiste désormais à intégrer l’expertise en santé mentale dans la conception des systèmes d’IA, à développer une littératie clinique autour des expériences liées à l’IA et à s’assurer que les utilisateurs vulnérables ne soient pas exposés à des préjudices involontaires.

Cela nécessitera une collaboration étroite entre cliniciens, chercheurs, éthiciens et technologues. Cela exigera également de résister aux discours sensationnalistes (qu’ils soient utopiques ou dystopiques) au profit d’échanges fondés sur les données probantes.

À mesure que l’IA adopte des caractéristiques de plus en plus humaines, une question s’impose : comment protéger les personnes les plus vulnérables à son influence ?

La psychose s’est toujours adaptée aux outils culturels de son époque. L’IA n’est que le miroir le plus récent à travers lequel l’esprit tente de donner sens à lui-même. Notre responsabilité collective est de veiller à ce que ce miroir ne déforme pas la réalité chez celles et ceux qui sont le moins en mesure de la corriger.

La Conversation Canada

Alexandre Hudon 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. « Psychose induite par l’IA » : un danger réel pour les personnes à risque, selon un psychiatre – https://theconversation.com/psychose-induite-par-lia-un-danger-reel-pour-les-personnes-a-risque-selon-un-psychiatre-273760

Short on resources, special educators are using AI – with little knowledge of the effects

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Seth King, Associate Profess of Special Education, University of Iowa

In special education in the U.S., funding is scarce and personnel shortages are pervasive, leaving many school districts struggling to hire qualified and willing practitioners.

Amid these long-standing challenges, there is rising interest in using artificial intelligence tools to help close some of the gaps that districts currently face and lower labor costs.

Over 7 million children receive federally funded entitlements under the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, which guarantees students access to instruction tailored to their unique physical and psychological needs, as well as legal processes that allow families to negotiate support. Special education involves a range of professionals, including rehabilitation specialists, speech-language pathologists and classroom teaching assistants. But these specialists are in short supply, despite the proven need for their services.

As an associate professor in special education who works with AI, I see its potential and its pitfalls. While AI systems may be able to reduce administrative burdens, deliver expert guidance and help overwhelmed professionals manage their caseloads, they can also present ethical challenges – ranging from machine bias to broader issues of trust in automated systems. They also risk amplifying existing problems with how special ed services are delivered.

Yet some in the field are opting to test out AI tools, rather than waiting for a perfect solution.

A faster IEP, but how individualized?

AI is already shaping special education planning, personnel preparation and assessment.

One example is the individualized education program, or IEP, the primary instrument for guiding which services a child receives. An IEP draws on a range of assessments and other data to describe a child’s strengths, determine their needs and set measurable goals. Every part of this process depends on trained professionals.

But persistent workforce shortages mean districts often struggle to complete assessments, update plans and integrate input from parents. Most districts develop IEPs using software that requires practitioners to choose from a generalized set of rote responses or options, leading to a level of standardization that can fail to meet a child’s true individual needs.

Preliminary research has shown that large language models such as ChatGPT can be adept at generating key special education documents such as IEPs by drawing on multiple data sources, including information from students and families. Chatbots that can quickly craft IEPs could potentially help special education practitioners better meet the needs of individual children and their families. Some professional organizations in special education have even encouraged educators to use AI for documents such as lesson plans.

Training and diagnosing disabilities

There is also potential for AI systems to help support professional training and development. My own work on personnel development combines several AI applications with virtual reality to enable practitioners to rehearse instructional routines before working directly with children. Here, AI can function as a practical extension of existing training models, offering repeated practice and structured support in ways that are difficult to sustain with limited personnel.

Some districts have begun using AI for assessments, which can involve a range of academic, cognitive and medical evaluations. AI applications that pair automatic speech recognition and language processing are now being employed in computer-mediated oral reading assessments to score tests of student reading ability.

Practitioners often struggle to make sense of the volume of data that schools collect. AI-driven machine learning tools also can help here, by identifying patterns that may not be immediately visible to educators for evaluation or instructional decision-making. Such support may be especially useful in diagnosing disabilities such as autism or learning disabilities, where masking, variable presentation and incomplete histories can make interpretation difficult. My ongoing research shows that current AI can make predictions based on data likely to be available in some districts.

Privacy and trust concerns

There are serious ethical – and practical – questions about these AI-supported interventions, ranging from risks to students’ privacy to machine bias and deeper issues tied to family trust. Some hinge on the question of whether or not AI systems can deliver services that truly comply with existing law.

The Individuals with Disabilities Education Act requires nondiscriminatory methods of evaluating disabilities to avoid inappropriately identifying students for services or neglecting to serve those who qualify. And the Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act explicitly protects students’ data privacy and the rights of parents to access and hold their children’s data.

What happens if an AI system uses biased data or methods to generate a recommendation for a child? What if a child’s data is misused or leaked by an AI system? Using AI systems to perform some of the functions described above puts families in a position where they are expected to put their faith not only in their school district and its special education personnel, but also in commercial AI systems, the inner workings of which are largely inscrutable.

These ethical qualms are hardly unique to special ed; many have been raised in other fields and addressed by early-adopters. For example, while automatic speech recognition, or ASR, systems have struggled to accurately assess accented English, many vendors now train their systems to accommodate specific ethnic and regional accents.

But ongoing research work suggests that some ASR systems are limited in their capacity to accommodate speech differences associated with disabilities, account for classroom noise, and distinguish between different voices. While these issues may be addressed through technical improvement in the future, they are consequential at present.

Embedded bias

At first glance, machine learning models might appear to improve on traditional clinical decision-making. Yet AI models must be trained on existing data, meaning their decisions may continue to reflect long-standing biases in how disabilities have been identified.

Indeed, research has shown that AI systems are routinely hobbled by biases within both training data and system design. AI models can also introduce new biases, either by missing subtle information revealed during in-person evaluations or by overrepresenting characteristics of groups included in the training data.

Such concerns, defenders might argue, are addressed by safeguards already embedded in federal law. Families have considerable latitude in what they agree to, and can opt for alternatives, provided they are aware they can direct the IEP process.

By a similar token, using AI tools to build IEPs or lessons may seem like an obvious improvement over underdeveloped or perfunctory plans. Yet true individualization would require feeding protected data into large language models, which could violate privacy regulations. And while AI applications can readily produce better-looking IEPs and other paperwork, this does not necessarily result in improved services.

Filling the gap

Indeed, it is not yet clear whether AI provides a standard of care equivalent to the high-quality, conventional treatment to which children with disabilities are entitled under federal law.

The Supreme Court in 2017 rejected the notion that the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act merely entitles students to trivial, “de minimis” progress, which weakens one of the primary rationales for pursuing AI – that it can meet a minimum standard of care and practice. And since AI really has not been empirically evaluated at scale, it has not been proved that it adequately meets the low bar of simply improving beyond the flawed status quo.

But this does not change the reality of limited resources. For better or worse, AI is already being used to fill the gap between what the law requires and what the system actually provides.

The Conversation

Seth King 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. Short on resources, special educators are using AI – with little knowledge of the effects – https://theconversation.com/short-on-resources-special-educators-are-using-ai-with-little-knowledge-of-the-effects-259110

Grammys’ AI rules aim to keep music human, but large gray area leaves questions about authenticity and authorship

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Mark Benincosa, Teaching Associate Professor, West Virginia University

AI is making it hard for the music industry to embrace innovation while keeping it real. elenabs/iStock via Getty Images

At its best, artificial intelligence can assist people in analyzing data, automating tasks and developing solutions to big problems: fighting cancer, hunger, poverty and climate change. At its worst, AI can assist people in exploiting other humans, damaging the environment, taking away jobs and eventually making ourselves lazy and less innovative.

Likewise, AI is both a boon and a bane for the music industry. As a recording engineer and professor of music technology and production, I see a large gray area in between.

The National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences has taken steps to address AI in recognizing contributions and protecting creators. Specifically, the academy says, only humans are eligible for a Grammy Award: “A work that contains no human authorship is not eligible in any categories.”

The academy says that the human component must be meaningful and significant to the work submitted for consideration. Right now, that means that it’s OK for me to use what’s marketed as an AI feature in a software product to standardize volume levels or organize a large group of files in my sample library. These tools help me to work faster in my digital audio workstation.

However, it is not OK in terms of Grammy consideration for me to use an AI music service to generate a song that combines the style of say, a popular male folk country artist – someone like Tyler Childers – and say, a popular female eclectic pop artist – someone like Lady Gaga – singing a duet about “Star Trek.”

This song, one of the most popular on Spotify in Sweden, was banned from the country’s music charts after reporters discovered that it was substantially generated by AI.

The gray zone

It gets trickier when you go deeper.

There is quite a bit of gray area between generating a song with text prompts and using a tool to organize your data. Is it OK by National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences Grammy standards to use an AI music generator to add backing vocals to a song I wrote and recorded with humans? Almost certainly. The same holds true if someone uses a feature in a digital audio workstation to add variety and “swing” to a drum pattern while producing a song.

What about using an AI tool to generate a melody and lyrics that become the hook of the song? Right now, a musician or nonmusician could use an AI tool to generate a chorus for a song with the following information:

“Write an eight measure hook for a pop song that is in the key of G major and 120 beats per minute. The hook should consist of a catchy melody and lyrics that are memorable and easily repeatable. The topic shall be on the triumph of the human spirit in the face of adversity.”

If I take what an AI tool generates based on that prompt, write a couple of verses and bridge to fit with it, then have humans play the whole thing, is that still a meaningful and significant human contribution?

The performance most certainly is, but what about the writing of the song? If AI generates the catchy part first, does that mean it is ultimately responsible for the other sections created by a human? Is the human who is feeding those prompts making a meaningful contribution to the creation of the music you end up hearing?

AI music is here

The Recording Academy is doing its best right now to recognize and address these challenges with technology that is evolving so quickly.

Not so long ago, pitch correction software like Auto-Tune caused quite a bit of controversy in music. Now, the use of Auto-Tune, Melodyne and other pitch correction software is heard in almost every genre of music – and no barrier to winning a Grammy.

Maybe the average music listener won’t bat an eye in 10 years when they discover AI had been used to create a song they love. There are already folks listening to AI-generated music by choice today.

You are almost certainly encountering AI-generated articles (no, not this one). You are probably seeing a lot of AI slop if you are an avid social media consumer.

The truth is you might already be listening to AI-generated music, too. Some major streaming services, like Spotify, aren’t doing much to identify or limit AI-generated music on their platforms.

On Spotify, an AI “artist” by the name of Aventhis currently has over 1 million monthly listeners and no disclosure that it is AI-generated. YouTube comments on the Aventhis song, “Mercy on My Grave,” suggest that the majority of commenters believe a human wrote it. This leads to questions about why this information is not disclosed by Spotify or YouTube aside from “[h]arnessing the creative power of AI as part of his artistic process” in the description of the artist.

This AI-generated song has millions of listens on Spotify and views on YouTube.

AI can not only be used to create a song, but AI bots can be used to generate clicks and listens for it, too. This raises the possibility that the streaming services’ recommendation algorithms are being trained to push this music to human subscribers. For the record, Spotify and most streaming services say they don’t support this practice.

Trying to keep it real

If you feel that AI in music hurts human creators and makes the world less-than-a-better place, you have options for avoiding it. Determining whether a song is AI-written is possible though not foolproof. You can also find services that aim to limit AI in music.

Bandcamp recently set out guidelines for AI music on its platform that are like the Recording Academy’s and more friendly to music creators. As of January 2026, Bandcamp does not allow music “that is generated wholly or in substantial part by AI.” Regardless of your opinion of AI-generated music, Bandcamp’s approach gives artists and listeners a platform where human creation is central to the experience.

Ideally, Spotify and the other streaming platforms would provide clear disclaimers and offer listeners filters to customize their use of the services based on AI content. In the meantime, AI in music is likely to have a large gray area between acceptable tools and questionable practices.

The Conversation

Mark Benincosa 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. Grammys’ AI rules aim to keep music human, but large gray area leaves questions about authenticity and authorship – https://theconversation.com/grammys-ai-rules-aim-to-keep-music-human-but-large-gray-area-leaves-questions-about-authenticity-and-authorship-274504

What Franco’s fascist regime in Spain can teach us about today’s America

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Rachelle Wilson Tollemar, Adjunct Professor of Spanish, University of St. Thomas

Protesters associated with a far-right group known as Nuncio Nacional extend a fascist salute on Jan. 24, 2026, demonstrating that the ideology still has some traction in Spain. Getty Images/Marcos del Mazo

Minneapolis residents say they feel besieged under what some are calling a fascist occupation. Thousands of Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents have been swarming a city whose vast majority in 2024 did not vote for Donald Trump – or for a paramilitary roundup of its diverse population.

Tragically, two residents have been killed by federal agents. Consequently, social media is aflame with comparisons of Trump’s immigration enforcers to Hitler’s Gestapo.

While comparisons to Hitler’s fascist regime are becoming common, I’d argue that it may be even more fitting to compare the present moment to a less-remembered but longer-lasting fascist regime: that of Francisco Franco, dictator of Spain from 1936 until his death in 1975.

In 2016, critics warned that Trump’s campaign rhetoric was grounded in textbook fascism, exhibiting signs such as racism, sexism and misogyny, nationalism, propaganda and more. In return, critics were met with intense backlash, accused of being hysterical or overly dramatic.

Now, even normally sober voices are sounding the alarm that America may be falling to fascist rule.

As a scholar of Spanish culture, I, too, see troubling parallels between Franco’s Spain and Trump’s America.

Putting them side by side, I believe, provides insightful tools that are needed to understand the magnitude of what’s at risk today.

A group of men in military uniforms walking down a street.
Gen. Francisco Franco, center, commander in the south, visits the headquarters of the northern front in Burgos, Spain, on Aug. 19, 1936, during the country’s civil war.
Imagno/Getty Images

Franco’s rise and reign

The Falange party started off as a a small extremist party on the margins of Spanish society, a society deeply troubled with political and economic instability. The party primarily preached a radical nationalism, a highly exclusive way to be and act Spanish. Traditional gender roles, monolingualism and Catholicism rallied people by offering absolutist comfort during uncertain times. Quickly, the Falange grew in power and prevalence until, ultimately, it moved mainstream.

By 1936, the party had garnered enough support from the Catholic Church, the military, and wealthy landowners and businessmen that a sizable amount of the population accepted Gen. Francisco Franco’s coup d’etat: a military crusade of sorts that sought to stop the perceived anarchy of liberals living in godless cities. His slogan, “¡Una, Grande, Libre!,” or “one, great, free,” mobilized people who shared the Falange’s anxieties.

Like the Falange, MAGA, the wing of the U.S. Republican Party named after Trump’s slogan “Make America Great Again,” repeatedly vilifies the left, who mostly live in cities, as godless anarchists who live like vermin.

Once in power, the Francoist regime commissioned a secret police force, the Political-Social Brigade – known as the BPS – to “clean up house.” The BPS was charged with suppressing or killing any political, social, cultural or linguistic dissidents.

Weakening resistance

Franco not only weaponized the military but also proverbially enlisted the Catholic Church. He colluded with the clergy to convince parishioners, especially women, of their divine duty to multiply, instill nationalist Catholic values in their children, and thus reproduce ideological replicas of both the state and the church. From the pulpit, homemakers were extolled as “ángeles del hogar” and “heroínas de la patria,” or “angels of the home” and “heroines of the homeland.”

Together, Franco and the church constructed consent for social restrictions, including outlawing or criminalizing abortion, contraception, divorce, work by women and other women’s rights, along with even tolerating uxoricide, or the killing of wives, for their perceived sexual transgressions.

Some scholars contend that the repealing of women’s reproductive rights is the first step away from a fully democratic society. For this reason and more, many are concerned about the U.S. Supreme Court’s recent overturning of Roe v. Wade.

The #tradwife social media trend involves far-right platforms echoing Francoist-style ideologies of submission, restriction, dependence and white male dominance. One of TikTok’s most popular tradwife influencers, for instance, posted that “there is no higher calling than being a wife and a mother for a woman.” She also questioned young women attending college and rebuked, on air, wives who deny their husbands sexual intimacy.

Weakening the economy

Economically, Franco implemented autarkic policies, a system of limited trade designed to isolate Spain and protect it from anti-Spanish influences. He utilized high tariffs, strict quotas, border controls and currency manipulation, effectively impoverishing the nation and vastly enriching himself and his cronies.

These policies flew under the motto “¡Arriba España!,” or “Up Spain.” They nearly immediately triggered more than a decade of suffering known as the “hunger years.” An estimated 200,000 Spaniards died from famine and disease.

Under the slogan “America First” – Trump’s mutable but aggressive tariff regime – the $1 billion or more in personal wealth he’s accumulated while in office, along with his repeated attempts to cut nutrition benefits in blue states and his administration’s anti-vaccine policies may appear to be disconnected. But together, they galvanize an autarkic strategy that threatens to debilitate the country’s health.

A man carries a box containing the remains of his uncle who was killed during Spain's fascist era.
In Spain, victims of Franco’s regime are still being exhumed from mass graves.
AP Photo/Manu Fernandez

Weakening the mind

Franco’s dictatorship systematically purged, exiled and repressed the country’s intellectual class. Many were forced to emigrate. Those who stayed in the country, such as the artist Joan Miró, were forced to bury their messages deeply within symbols and metaphor to evade censorship.

Currently in the U.S., banned books, banned words and phrases, and the slashing of academic and research funding across disciplines are causing the U.S. to experience “brain drain,” an exodus of members of the nation’s highly educated and skilled classes.

Furthermore, Franco conjoined the church, the state and education into one. I am tracking analogous moves in the U.S. The conservative group Turning Point USA has an educational division whose goal is to ‘reclaim” K-12 curriculum with white Christian nationalism.

Ongoing legislation that mandates public classrooms to display the Ten Commandments similarly violates religious freedom guarantees ratified in the constitution.

Drawing comparisons

Trump has frequently expressed admiration for contemporary dictators and last week stated that “sometimes you need a dictator.”

It is true that his tactics do not perfectly mirror Francoism or any other past fascist regime. But the work of civil rights scholar Michelle Alexander reminds us that systems of control do not disappear. They morph, evolve and adapt to sneak into modern contexts in less detectable ways. I see fascism like this.

Consider some of the recent activities in Minneapolis, and ask how they would be described if they were taking place in any other country.

Unidentified masked individuals in unmarked cars are forcibly entering homes without judicial warrants. These agents are killing, shooting and roughing up people, sometimes while handcuffed. They are tear-gassing peaceful protesters, assaulting and killing legal observers, and throwing flash grenades at bystanders. They are disappearing people of color, including four Native Americans and a toddler as young as 2, shipping them off to detention centers where allegations of abuse, neglect, sexual assault and even homicide are now frequent.

Government officials have spun deceptive narratives, or worse, lied about the administration’s actions.

In the wake of the public and political backlash following the killing of Alex Pretti, Trump signaled he would reduce immigration enforcement operations] in Minneapolis, only to turn around and have Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth authorize the use of an old military base near St. Paul, suggesting potential escalation, not de-escalation. Saying one thing while doing the opposite is a classic fascist trick warned about in history and literature alike.

The world has seen these tactics before. History shows the precedent and then supplies the bad ending. Comparing past Francoism to present Trumpism connects the past to the present and warns us about what could come.

The Conversation

Rachelle Wilson Tollemar 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 Franco’s fascist regime in Spain can teach us about today’s America – https://theconversation.com/what-francos-fascist-regime-in-spain-can-teach-us-about-todays-america-274248

From Colonial rebels to Minneapolis protesters, technology has long powered American social movements

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Ray Brescia, Associate Dean for Research and Intellectual Life, Albany Law School

Technology doesn’t create social movements, but it can supercharge them. Arthur Maiorella/Anadolu via Getty Images

Tens of millions of Americans have now seen video of the killings of Renee Good and Alex Pretti at the hands of federal agents in Minneapolis. The activities organized in response have not been initiated by outside agitators or left-wing zealots, but, rather, by everyday Americans protesting the tactics of federal agents in that city.

These community members are communicating over encrypted messaging apps such as Signal and using their cellphones to record Immigration and Customs Enforcement and Border Patrol officers. Some have been using apps such as ICEBlock to help monitor ICE activities. They are using 3D printers to mass-produce whistles for community members to blow to alert each other when federal agents are in the area.

While the technology in some of these instances is new, this pattern – grassroots activists using the latest technology literally at their fingertips – is older than the republic itself. As a legal scholar who has studied American social movements and their relationship to technology, I see that what regular Americans in Minneapolis are doing is part of a very American tradition: building on trusted interpersonal relationships by harnessing the most recent technology to supercharge their organizing.

a smartphone displaying a map
The app ICEBlock helps communities share information about the presence of federal officers in their areas. The Apple and Google app stores removed the app in October 2025 at the Trump administration’s request.
Justin Sullivan/Getty Images

From Colonial era to the Civil Rights Movement

As the first stirrings of the American revolutionary spirit emerged in the 1770s, leaders formed the committees of correspondence to coordinate among the Colonies and in 1774 formed the Continental Congress. They harnessed the power of the printing press to promote tracts such as Thomas Paine’s Common Sense. One of the first acts of the new Congress was to create what it called the Constitutional Post, a mail system from the Maine territories to Georgia that enabled the colonists to communicate safely, out of reach of loyalist postmasters.

And the date Americans will be celebrating in 2026 as the 250th anniversary of the United States, July 4, commemorates when the drafters of the Declaration of Independence sent the final document to John Dunlap, rebel printer. In other words, what we celebrate as the birth of our nation is when the founders pressed “send.”

In the 1830s, as the battle over slavery in the new nation began to emerge, a new type of printing press, one powered by steam, helped supercharge the abolitionist movement. It could print antislavery broadsides much more rapidly and cheaply than manual presses.

The introduction of the telegraph in 1848 helped launch the women’s rights movement, spreading word of its convention in Seneca Falls, New York, while similar meetings had not quite caught the public’s imagination.

Fast-forward over 100 years in U.S. history to the Civil Rights Movement. Leaders of that movement embraced and harnessed the power of a new technology – television – and worked to create opportunities for broadcast media to beam images of authorities attacking young people in Birmingham, Alabama, and marchers on the Edmund Pettus Bridge outside Selma, Alabama, into living rooms across the United States. The images galvanized support for legislation such as the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act.

Social movements today

Today, new technologies and capabilities such as the smartphone and social media are making it easier for activists – and even those who have never seen themselves as activists – to get involved and help their neighbors. But it’s important not to mistake the method of communication for a movement. Indeed, without people behind the smartphones or as members of a group chat, there is no movement.

And what is happening in Minneapolis and in places across the country is still people organizing. Mutual aid networks are sprouting up nearly everywhere that immigration enforcement agents are amassed to carry out the Trump administration’s deportation policies, helped but not supplanted by technology. These technologies are important tools to support and catalyze the on-the-ground work.

Minnesotans have been using 3D printers to mass-produce whistles for alerting each other to the presence of federal agents.

It’s also important for advocates and would-be advocates to know the limits of such technologies and the risks that they can pose. These tools can sap a movement of energy, such as when someone posts a meme or “likes” a message on a social media platform and thinks they have done their part to support a grassroots effort.

There are also risks with any of these digital technologies, something the founders realized when they created their independent postal system. That is, use of these tools can also facilitate surveillance, expose networks to disruption and make people vulnerable to doxing or worse: charges that they are aiding and abetting criminal behavior.

Technology and trust

Most importantly, while technological tools might facilitate communication, they are no substitute for trust, the type of trust that can be forged only in face-to-face encounters. And that’s another thing that activists across American history have known since before the nation’s founding.

Until the late 1960s, groups participating in the work of democracy have often formed themselves into what political scientist Theda Skocpol calls “translocal networks”: collectives organized into local chapters connected to state, regional and even national networks.

It was in those local chapters where Americans practiced what French aristocrat Alexis de Tocqueville described in his visit to the United States in the 1830s as uniquely American: the “infinite art” of association and organizing. Americans used this practice to solve all manner of local problems. The local manifestations of those groups would often then engage in larger campaigns, whether to promote women’s rights in the 19th century or civil rights in the 20th.

Today’s technologies are reigniting the kind of grassroots activism that is deeply rooted in trust and solidarity, one block, one text message, one video at a time. It is also a profoundly American method of protest, infused with and catalyzed – but not replaced – by the technology such movements embrace.

The Conversation

Ray Brescia 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. From Colonial rebels to Minneapolis protesters, technology has long powered American social movements – https://theconversation.com/from-colonial-rebels-to-minneapolis-protesters-technology-has-long-powered-american-social-movements-274490

¿De verdad fuimos más felices en 2016? Por qué idealizamos el pasado

Source: The Conversation – (in Spanish) – By Tatiana Romero Arias, Facultad de Ciencias de la Salud. Dpto. de Psicología, Universidad Europea

En redes sociales se multiplican estos días las imágenes comparativas. Una foto de 2016 aparece junto a otra de 2026. Diversos textos las acompañan: “Así éramos entonces”, “cuando todo era más sencillo”, “antes de que el mundo se torciera”. Contemplamos rostros más jóvenes, sonrisas despreocupadas. Una vida que, vista desde hoy, parece más ligera.

No es solo una moda visual. Detrás de estas comparaciones late una idea cada vez más extendida: que 2016 fue el “último año bueno”. Un tiempo previo a la pandemia, a las crisis encadenadas y a la sensación de incertidumbre permanente que define el presente. Pero ¿es correcta esta percepción?

Llega un momento en la vida en que el pasado empieza a parecer más amable. No importa si hablamos de la infancia, de la juventud o de cuando trabajábamos. Algo cambia y, de pronto, los recuerdos se llenan de veranos interminables, conversaciones sin prisas y problemas que hoy parecen pequeños. Entonces surge la frase: “Antes se vivía mejor”.

Pero ¿realmente vivíamos mejor entonces? ¿O estamos mirando ese pasado a través del filtro de la nostalgia? ¿Y si lo que ha cambiado no es tanto lo que vivimos, sino la forma en que lo recordamos?

Para entender por qué tendemos a idealizar determinados momentos de nuestra vida y por qué lo hacemos con tanta fuerza cuando el presente se vuelve incierto, conviene fijarse menos en lo que ocurrió en 2016 y en cómo funciona nuestra memoria.

Recordar no es volver atrás

Solemos pensar que la memoria funciona como una especie de archivo: guardamos experiencias y, cuando queremos, las sacamos intactas. Sin embargo, la memoria no reproduce el pasado: lo reconstruye. Cada recuerdo es una versión actualizada de lo que vivimos, filtrada por lo que somos hoy.

Cada vez que recordamos, el recuerdo se activa, se reordena y se guarda de nuevo. Por eso el pasado no permanece fijo. Cambia con nosotros. Recordar es, en cierto modo, reinterpretar.

Esto explica algunas experiencias que todos hemos vivido alguna vez. Por ejemplo, cómo un mismo episodio puede parecernos distinto con los años. O cómo dos personas recuerdan de forma muy diferente una historia compartida.

La memoria no guarda todo, ni lo guarda igual

Nuestra memoria no es neutral. No almacena cada detalle ni trata todos los recuerdos por igual. Algunos permanecen accesibles durante décadas; otros se van difuminando sin que sepamos muy bien cuándo.

Las emociones tienen mucho que ver con esto. Los recuerdos cargados de emoción se consolidan mejor que los neutros, pero con el tiempo ocurre algo curioso: muchas experiencias negativas pierden fuerza, mientras que las positivas se mantienen más vivas. No porque las primeras desaparezcan, sino porque se vuelven menos accesibles.

Olvidar, en este sentido, no es un fallo: es una forma de protección.

Cuando el pasado se vuelve más bonito

Esto da lugar a lo que la psicología llama “sesgo de positividad”: la tendencia a recordar nuestra vida como mejor de lo que fue en realidad. No es que inventemos recuerdos felices, sino que los negativos ocupan cada vez menos espacio cuando miramos atrás.

Este sesgo se intensifica con la edad y se vuelve especialmente visible a partir de los 60 años. En ese momento el recuerdo del pasado empieza a cumplir otra función. Ya no sirve tanto para aprender o planificar, sino para dar sentido, reafirmar quiénes somos y sentirnos bien con la vida vivida.

La jubilación: cuando cambia la forma de mirar atrás

La jubilación suele marcar un antes y un después. No solo porque cambie la rutina, sino porque cambia la manera en que percibimos el tiempo. El futuro deja de ser un espacio infinito y se vuelve más concreto. Y cuando eso ocurre, nuestras prioridades psicológicas se reorganizan.

En esta etapa muchas personas se vuelven más hábiles regulando sus emociones. Aprenden, a veces sin darse cuenta, a no recrearse tanto en lo negativo y a rescatar con más facilidad los recuerdos que aportan calma, orgullo y afecto. La memoria autobiográfica se convierte en una aliada para mantener el equilibrio emocional en un momento de grandes cambios.

Por eso, al mirar atrás, la vida parece más amable. No porque lo fuera más, sino porque ahora necesitamos que lo sea.

Nostalgia: no es debilidad, es adaptación

La nostalgia suele verse como una forma de vivir anclados en el pasado. Sin embargo, desde la psicología sabemos que cumple una función importante. Recordar “los buenos tiempos” refuerza nuestra identidad, nos recuerda de dónde venimos y nos ayuda a afrontar el presente con más serenidad.

La nostalgia no nos aleja de la realidad, sino que nos permite habitarla con más sentido. Solo se vuelve problemática cuando impide vivir el presente. En la mayoría de los casos, recordar con cariño es una forma sana de seguir adelante.

Entonces, ¿antes todo era mejor?

Probablemente no, pero nuestra memoria no está diseñada para ser justa con el pasado, sino útil para el presente. Al seleccionar, suavizar y reconstruir lo vivido, la memoria nos ayuda a mantener una historia personal coherente y emocionalmente sostenible.

Quizá, cuando decimos que antes todo era mejor, no estamos hablando del pasado. Estamos hablando de una memoria que hace lo que siempre ha hecho: cuidarnos.

The Conversation

Tatiana Romero Arias no recibe salario, ni ejerce labores de consultoría, ni posee acciones, ni recibe financiación de ninguna compañía u organización que pueda obtener beneficio de este artículo, y ha declarado carecer de vínculos relevantes más allá del cargo académico citado.

ref. ¿De verdad fuimos más felices en 2016? Por qué idealizamos el pasado – https://theconversation.com/de-verdad-fuimos-mas-felices-en-2016-por-que-idealizamos-el-pasado-274157