100 years before quantum mechanics, one scientist glimpsed a link between light and matter

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Robyn Arianrhod, Affiliate, School of Mathematics, Monash University

MirageC / Getty Images

The Irish mathematician and physicist William Rowan Hamilton, who was born 220 years ago last month, is famous for carving some mathematical graffiti into Dublin’s Broome Bridge in 1843.

But in his lifetime, Hamilton’s reputation rested on work done in the 1820s and early 1830s, when he was still in his twenties. He developed new mathematical tools for studying light rays (or “geometric optics”) and the motion of objects (“mechanics”).

Intriguingly, Hamilton developed his mechanics using an analogy between the path of a light ray and that of a material particle. This is not so surprising if light is a material particle, as Isaac Newton had believed, but what if it were a wave? What would it mean for the equations of waves and particles to be analogous in some way?

The answer would come a century later, when the pioneers of quantum mechanics realised Hamilton’s approach offered more than just an analogy: it was a glimpse of the true nature of the physical world.

The puzzle of light

To understand Hamilton’s place in this story, we need to go back a little further. For ordinary objects or particles, the basic laws (or equations) of motion had been published by Newton in 1687. Over the next 150 years, researchers such as Leonard Euler, Joseph-Louis Lagrange and then Hamilton made more flexible and sophisticated versions of Newton’s ideas.

“Hamiltonian mechanics” proved so useful that it wasn’t until 1925 – almost 100 years later – that anybody stopped to revisit how Hamilton had derived it.

His analogy with light paths worked regardless of light’s true nature, but at the time, there was good evidence that light was a wave. In 1801, British scientist Thomas Young had performed his famous double-slit experiment, in which two light beams produced an “interference” pattern like the overlapping ripples on a pond when two stones are dropped in. Six decades later, James Clerk Maxwell realised light behaved like a rippling wave in the electromagnetic field.

But then, in 1905, Albert Einstein showed some of light’s properties could only be explained if light could also behave as a stream of particle-like “photons” (as they were later dubbed). He linked this idea to a suggestion made by Max Planck in 1900, that atoms could only emit or absorb energy in discrete lumps.

Energy, frequency and mass

In his 1905 paper on the photoelectric effect, where light dislodges electrons from certain metals, Einstein used Planck’s formula for these energy lumps (or quanta): E = . E is the amount of energy, ν (the Greek letter nu) is the photon’s frequency, and h is a number called Planck’s constant.

But in another paper the same year, Einstein introduced a different formula for the energy of a particle: a version of the now-famous E = mc ². E is again the energy, m is the mass of the particle, and c is the speed of light.

So here were two ways of calculating energy: one, associated with light, depended on the light’s frequency (a quantity connected with oscillations or waves); the other, associated with material particles, depended on mass.

Photo of a young Albert Einstein.
In 1905, Albert Einstein published two ways of calculating the energy of a particle: one linked to the frequency of wave, the other to the mass of the particle itself.
Hulton Archive / Getty Images

Did this suggest a deeper connection between matter and light?

This thread was picked up in 1924 by Louis de Broglie, who proposed that matter, like light, could behave as both a wave and a particle. Subsequent experiments would prove him right, but it was already clear that quantum particles, such as electrons and protons, played by very different rules from everyday objects.

A new kind of mechanics was needed: a “quantum mechanics”.

The wave equation

The year 1925 ushered in not one but two new theories. First was “matrix mechanics”, initiated by Werner Heisenberg and developed by Max Born, Paul Dirac and others.

A few months later, Erwin Schrödinger began work on “wave mechanics”. Which brings us back to Hamilton.

Schrödinger was struck by Hamilton’s analogy between optics and mechanics. With a leap of imagination and much careful thought, he was able to combine de Broglie’s ideas and Hamilton’s equations for a material particle, to produce a “wave equation” for the particle.

An ordinary wave equation shows how a “wave function” varies through time and space. For sound waves, for example, the wave equation shows the displacement of air, due to changes in pressure, in different places over time.

But with Schrödinger’s wave function, it was not clear exactly what was waving. Indeed, whether it represents a physical wave or merely a mathematical convenience is still controversial.

Waves and particles

Nonetheless, the wave-particle duality is at the heart of quantum mechanics, which underpins so much of our modern technology – from computer chips to lasers and fibre-optic communication, from solar cells to MRI scanners, electron microscopes, the atomic clocks used in GPS, and much more.

Indeed, whatever it is that is waving, Schrödinger’s equation can be used to predict accurately the chance of observing a particle – such as an electron in an atom – at a given time and place.

That’s another strange thing about the quantum world: it is probabilistic, so you can’t pin these ever-oscillating electrons down to a definite location in advance, the way the equations of “classical” physics do for everyday particles such as cricket balls and communications satellites.

Schrödinger’s wave equation enabled the first correct analysis of the hydrogen atom, which only has a single electron. In particular, it explained why an atom’s electrons can only occupy specific (quantised) energy levels.

It was eventually shown that Schrödinger’s quantum waves and Heisenberg’s quantum matrices were equivalent in almost all situations. Heisenberg, too, had used Hamiltonian mechanics as a guide.

Today, quantum equations are still often written in terms of their total energy – a quantity called the “Hamiltonian”, based on Hamilton’s expression for the energy of a mechanical system.

Hamilton had hoped the mechanics he developed by analogy with light rays would prove widely applicable. But he surely never imagined how prescient his analogy would be in our understanding of the quantum world.

The Conversation

Robyn Arianrhod 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. 100 years before quantum mechanics, one scientist glimpsed a link between light and matter – https://theconversation.com/100-years-before-quantum-mechanics-one-scientist-glimpsed-a-link-between-light-and-matter-261551

Who are the worst fathers in literature? Our experts make the tough call

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Suzy Freeman-Greene, Books + Ideas Editor, The Conversation

Penguin Books, Goodreads, Harper Collins, Text Publishing

Literature has long portrayed messed-up families. As poet Philip Larkin famously wrote, “They fuck you up, your mum and dad. / They may not mean to, but they do.”

In honour of this rich vein of dysfunction, we asked experts to nominate the worst literary fathers and mothers. Today we delve into dads. Tomorrow, we turn to mothers.

Of course, complex characters – neither wholly good nor bad – are the best sort. Author Andrew O’Hagan has spoken eloquently about striving to humanise even his most unpleasant creations, to fully amplify a novel.

Still, some characters are awfully hard to like. My least favourite dad might be Shug Bain, a cruel, violent man who abandons his wife and kids in Douglas Stuart’s Booker Prize-winning novel. Shug is appalled by his son Shuggie’s feminine mannerisms. “Look how twisted you’ve made him,” he tells his wife.

Here are our experts’ picks.

James Mortmain, I Capture the Castle – Dodie Smith


Penguin Books

Perhaps the worst parent is not an obvious “monster”, but one you can all too easily imagine as your own. In Dodie Smith’s I Capture The Castle, James Mortmain, a once-successful writer in the grip of decade-long writer’s block, threatens his first wife with a cake knife and assaults a neighbour. His younger daughter, Cassandra, softens Mortmain’s awfulness with disarming humour. In court, she writes, everyone was being very funny, but “Father made the mistake of being funnier than the judge … he was sent to prison for three months.” The self-focused Mortmain condemns his family to penury in a crumbling castle, where he reads detective novels in the gatehouse and Cassandra captures their plight in her journal.

– Carol Lefevre


Heathcliff, Wuthering Heights – Emily Bronte


Penguin books

For me, Heathcliff even beats bad-dads King Lear and Agamemnon. Most readers won’t remember that Heathcliff is a dad at all, which is part of what makes him so bad. The sadistic, dysfunctional passion between Heathcliff and Catherine dominates Brontë’s novel, leaving young Linton, the kid Heathcliff has with another woman, Isabella, neglected, abused and dominated by his terrifying father.

Heathcliff doesn’t even meet his son until he’s 13, after Isabella dies. Linton is then forced to live in tormented isolation and tortured into marrying his first cousin, Cathy. All this so Heathcliff can take revenge on Cathy’s father Edgar, who married his beloved Catherine Earnshaw.

– Sophie Gee


Zeus, the Iliad


Penguin Books

Zeus wakes up in book 15 of the Iliad, having been lulled to sleep by Hera with sex and potions. Poor Zeus – with his sneaky wife, bickering, divine siblings and children, all trying to manipulate the war at Troy – and he is only trying to keep the Olympian show on the road. Seriously? Who started the family games? And, if he had canned the swan costume and not raped Leda (or the dozens of other nymphs he “manifested himself” to), no Helen, no war, no problems.

He really is the paterfamilias of toxic patriarchy.

– Robert Phiddian


Reunion – John Cheever

The last time you see your father, I hope he is not drunk on Beefeater Gibsons. I hope he doesn’t clap at the wait staff or demand they speak languages they do not know. I hope he doesn’t get you removed from four restaurants in a single afternoon. Walking away as he curses at a newsstand clerk, I hope you don’t mourn his flaws as “your future and your doom”. But, were this all to occur, I hope it’s happening inside a John Cheever story, where the comic and tragic mix like flesh and blood, or gin and vermouth.

– Alex Cothren


Kev, Last Ride – Denise Young


Harper Collins

I’m not in favour of binaries of any kind, so I’m not comfortable with “best” vs “worst”. Rather, I contribute a father figure from Australian literature who may be both/and best/worst. I’m thinking of Kev, the father in Denise Young’s astonishingly moving novel, Last Ride, who takes his ten-year old son, Chook, with him on the run from the law across outback NSW after committing a brutal murder. Kev is among the worst, because: who would drag a kid into that? But Kev is simultaneously among the best, because his love for Chook, and his deep-seated impulse to protect him from another man’s abuse, is as genuine and moving as the paternal instinct gets. Kev wields fatherhood as double-edged sword. I feel for him.

– Julienne van Loon


Albion Gidley Singer, Dark Places – Kate Grenville


Text Publishing

The worst father in literature is an easy one for me, though it has been decades since I have read his story. I first encountered the incestuous father Albion Gidley Singer in Kate Grenville’s novel Lilian’s Story, in which he is a somewhat shadowy but menacing figure. But it’s in Dark Places that Albion’s evil is brought fully to bear. I can’t remember the details of the book, but I can remember all too well the feeling of suffocation that came from being too close to Albion, to his thoughts and his feelings. A tremendous book I never want to read again.

– Natalie Kon-yu


Sam Pollit, The Man Who Loved Children – Christina Stead


Goodreads

In Christina Stead’s exhilarating and suffocating semi-autobiographical The Man Who Loved Children, the naturalist and patriarch Sam Pollit is nicknamed by his wife Henny “the Great Mouthpiece” for his endless maxims and sickening Pollit-“fambly” patois. He claims to love his many children but mocks, cajoles, and insults them; even has them spy on each other. Family life is so bad that the novel’s heroine, the adolescent Louisa, believes her only hope of escape from the squalor and tyranny is through murder.

– Jane Messer


My pick is a towering figure in Australian fiction: Sam Pollit of Christina Stead’s 1940 masterpiece The Man Who Loved Children. Sam’s oppressive sunniness, his maniacal refusal to look reality in the face, and his demand that his family play along with his ego-fantasy force them to absorb cruelty, mockery and contempt, all the while descending into more and more perilous poverty at his hands. He is a modern day narcissist par excellence, but also a grotesquerie or travesty of optimism as a virtue in the world. In Sam, “positivity” is transformed into dangerous and delusional thinking that steamrolls everything before it and leaves destruction in its wake.

– Edwina Preston


Allie Fox, The Mosquito Coast – Paul Theroux

Charismatic, brilliant and narcissistic, Allie Fox drags his family off to live in an isolated part of Honduras’ Mosquito Coast to escape what he has persuaded himself is the impending end of the world. Like any colonist, he takes over a village and attempts to introduce Western technology and ideas. It all ends in catastrophe of course, and his wife and children barely escape with their lives. Allie is the exemplar of the charming destroyer and is at the top of my “bad dad” list.

– Jen Webb


Captain Ahab, Moby-Dick – Herman Melville


Penguin Books

Herman Melville, a great American author, was a lamentable father and an erratic provider for his family, who drove his son Malcolm to shoot himself in his bedroom in his parents’ house in 1867 after a row about the 18-year-old’s late hours. Melville’s fictional character Captain Ahab in Moby-Dick behaves even more reprehensibly, abandoning his own wife and son to focus obsessively on a doomed quest for a white whale that ultimately leads his whole crew to destruction. Ahab takes his name from the worst king of Israel in the Old Testament, and the author of this epic novel trains his gaze not just on one bad father, but the whole nature of patriarchy.

– Paul Giles


Victor Frankenstein, Frankenstein – Mary Shelley


Penguin books

The worst father in fiction has to be one of the first fathers in the horror genre, the eponymous figure in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1818). Victor, of course, does not beget the monstrous creature via the conventional method of procreating with a female, and he fashions his infamous progeny out of corpses, but he is very much a horrible dad when he denies his ghastly son his love. The Swiss medical genius is the true Gothic monster here, not the hapless and unsightly creature who just wants to be loved.

– Ali Alizadeh


My dear Victor,

I should address you Father, but how can I? I do not have your own creator’s Miltonic power to throw moral injunction at you, as Satan did to God: “Did I request thee … from darkness to promote me?” Was there ever a son whose “being” (your own word) is not named but de-named as monster, dreaded spectre, fiend, vile insect, abhorred devil? I have entered literature as a hideous progeny, as an abortion and an anomaly. You never gave me love but do not forget, Father, that my form is “a filthy type of yours, more horrid from its very resemblance”.

Your son.

– Vijay Mishra


The novel’s horror is set in motion not just by Victor’s transgressive hubris as a scientist, but also by his refusal to accept responsibility. Victor abandons his “monster” at almost the moment after its birth, and repeatedly rejects its appeals for compassion and empathy. Victor’s attempts to disavow his legacy are ultimately futile, as his creation relentlessly pursues his “father” to the end of his days.

– Julian Novitz


Thomas Sutpen, William Faulkner – Absalom, Absalom!


Goodreads

“They feared him and they hated him because of his ruthlessness.” Thomas Sutpen is truly one of William Faulkner’s most terrifying creations: a man who arrives in Mississippi with nothing and wills a dynasty into being. Everything – his marriage, his children, his land – is subsumed by his amoral “design,” which he pursues at any cost and with no concern for those who get in his way.

When a hidden fact about his first marriage comes to light, he casts aside his wife and child, setting in motion a cycle of vengeance that consumes the Sutpen line. In Faulkner’s hands, this ghastly patriarch ultimately becomes a figure for the antebellum South itself – built on inhumanity, colonialism and slavery, unwilling to reckon with the horrors of the reality it has brought into being.

– Alexander Howard

Do you have a nomination for the worst father – or mother – in literature? If so, let us know by scrolling to the end of this article and adding your choice in the comments.

The Conversation

ref. Who are the worst fathers in literature? Our experts make the tough call – https://theconversation.com/who-are-the-worst-fathers-in-literature-our-experts-make-the-tough-call-263815

Lawsuits, cancellations and bullying: Trump is systematically destroying press freedom

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Denis Muller, Senior Research Fellow, Centre for Advancing Journalism, The University of Melbourne

Roberto Schmidt/Getty

United States President Donald Trump is well advanced in his systematic campaign to undermine the American media and eviscerate its function of holding him and others in power to account.

Since the late 18th century this function has often been called the fourth estate. It’s the idea the media is a watchdog over the other three estates which, in modern democracies, are parliament, the executive government and the judiciary.

In the US, Trump has had considerable success in weakening the other three.

His Republican Party controls both Houses of Congress, and they have shown no sign of wishing to restrain him.

He has stacked the executive government with cronies and ideological fellow travellers, including Robert F. Kennedy Jr (and his anti-vaccination agenda) as secretary of health, a brief stint by Elon Musk as head of the Department of Government Efficiency, and former Fox News host Pete Hegseth as defence secretary.

He has secured the support of the Republican Party to stack the Supreme Court with politically aligned judges who have routinely struck down lower court decisions against Trump, most notably in the matter of deporting migrants to countries other than their homelands.

Pulling funding, applying pressure

The fourth estate’s turn started in March, when Trump stripped federal funding from Voice of America, a public broadcasting service with a global reach, because it was “anti-Trump” and “radical”.

These cuts also hit two other projections of American soft power, Radio Free Europe and Radio Free Asia.

In July, he cut funding to the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (CPB) in a move that ended all federal support for National Public Radio, the Public Broadcasting service and their member stations.

Now he has turned to the private sector media. He does not have the power to cut their funding, so he is taking a different approach: financial shake-downs and threats to the foundations of their business.

In October 2024, even before he was elected, Trump sued the Paramount company for US$10 billion (about A$15 billion). He alleged an interview with Kamala Harris during the 2024 election campaign had been “deceptively edited” by the CBS television network, a Paramount subsidiary.

In February 2025, after he had been sworn in as president, Trump upped the ante to US$20 billion (A$30 billion).

The case was considered by lawyers to have no legal merit, but at that time, Paramount was anxious to merge with Skydance Media, and this was subject to regulatory approval from the Trump administration.

So Paramount was vulnerable to, how shall we say? Blackmail? Extortion? Subornation?

A busy, dangerous July

On July 2, Paramount settled with Trump for US$16 million (A$24 million), which ostensibly is to go towards funding his presidential library.

On July 17 Paramount’s CBS network announced its longtime Late Show would be cancelled from May 2026 after its presenter Stephen Colbert, an outspoken critic of Trump, condemned the corporate cave-in. The Trump administration approved the merger shortly after.

Subsequently the House of Representatives Judiciary and Energy and Commerce committees announced an investigation into whether the $16 million settlement constituted a bribe.

Also in July, Trump sued Rupert Murdoch’s Wall Street Journal for defamation arising from an article linking Trump to the sex trafficker Jeffrey Epstein. He claimed the now-familiar amount of US$10 billion (A$15 billion) in damages.

Legal experts in the US say Trump has next to no chance of winning. In the US, public figures who sue for defamation have to prove that the publisher was motivated by malice, which means they published either knowing the material to be untrue, or not caring whether it was true or not.

This case is never likely to end up in court, nor is it likely that Trump will see a red cent of Murdoch’s money. The two men need each other too much. To borrow a phrase from the Cold War, they are in a MAD relationship: Mutually Assured Destruction.

Coming to heel, one by one

Rupert Murdoch was a guest at Windsor Castle at the recent banquet given for Trump by King Charles.

Considering Murdoch’s bitter history with the Royal Family, it is difficult to imagine Buckingham Palace inviting him without Trump’s urging. It may have been a sign of rapprochement between the two men.

Meanwhile Trump has set his sights on The New York Times, suing it for defamation and claiming US$15 billion (A$27 billion).

Referring to the Times’ endorsement of Kamala Harris in the 2024 presidential election, he said it had become a “mouthpiece for the Radical Left Democrat Party”.

This case faces the same difficulties as his suit against the Wall Street Journal. The question is whether the Times will stand its ground or whether, like Paramount, it caves.

Among the big three US newspapers, the Times is the only one so far not to have been intimidated by Trump. The other two, The Washington Post and the Los Angeles Times, refused to endorse a candidate at the election on instructions from their owners, Jeff Bezos and Patrick Soon-Shiong respectively, both of whose wider business interests are vulnerable to Trumpian retribution.




Read more:
Two of the US’s biggest newspapers have refused to endorse a presidential candidate. This is how democracy dies


The Post’s decision was condemned as “spineless” by its celebrated former editor Marty Baron.

Now Disney is in the firing line. It owns another of the big four US television networks, ABC. On September 17, it pulled its late-night talk show Jimmy Kimmel Live.

Kimmel had responded to White House accusations that leftists were responsible for the assassination of Charlie Kirk, saying:

we hit some new lows over the weekend with the MAGA gang desperately trying to characterize this kid who murdered Charlie Kirk as anything other than one of them.

In what had all the hallmarks of a preemptive buckle, ABC and two of its affiliate networks took Kimmel off air indefinitely after Brendan Carr, the Trump-appointed chair of the Federal Communications Commission, said his agency might “take action” against the network because of Kimmel’s comments.

Kimmel is returning to TV, but the damage is already done.




Read more:
Jimmy Kimmel’s cancellation is the latest sign we’re witnessing the end of US democracy


Over at cable network MSNBC, its senior political analyst Matthew Dowd was fired after he had uttered on air the blindingly obvious statement that Kirk’s own radical rhetoric may have contributed to the shooting that killed him.

This cable network is no longer part of the main NBC network, so it can’t be said that NBC itself has yet come to heel.

Within 24 hours of Brendan Carr’s veiled threat, Trump stripped the veil away and made the threat explicit. Trump said of the national networks:

All they do is hit Trump. They’re licensed, they’re not allowed to do that. They’re an arm of the Democrat party. I would think maybe their licence should be taken away.

Whether cancelling a licence would breach the First Amendment to the US Constitution, which protects freedom of speech, is a question that might ultimately come before the Supreme Court. Given the present ideological proclivities of that court, the outcome would be by no means certain.

So Trump now has two out of three national newspapers, and two out of the big four national television networks, on the run.

Only one national newspaper and two national networks to go, and one of those is Murdoch’s Fox News, Trump’s most reliable cheerleader.

The Conversation

Denis Muller 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. Lawsuits, cancellations and bullying: Trump is systematically destroying press freedom – https://theconversation.com/lawsuits-cancellations-and-bullying-trump-is-systematically-destroying-press-freedom-265848

What a newly discovered gas bridge between galaxies tells us about the cosmic cycle of matter

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Lister Staveley-Smith, Professor at the International Centre for Radio Astronomy Research (ICRAR), The University of Western Australia

A composite image shows a diffuse ‘bridge’ of gas linking two dwarf galaxies. ICRAR, N. Deg, Legacy Surveys (D.Lang / Perimeter Institute)

Most of the ordinary matter in the universe is hydrogen. But surprisingly, less than 20% of this hydrogen sits inside galaxies. The rest lies in the vast spaces between them – the so-called intergalactic medium.

This cosmic reservoir is thought to fuel the birth of new stars, as gas slowly falls into galaxies over billions of years. Yet much of that material doesn’t stay put: supernova explosions and powerful outflows from supermassive black holes can fling gas back out into intergalactic space.

The push-and-pull between inflows and outflows is central to understanding how galaxies grow and change over cosmic time. Probing this balance is one of the aims of the WALLABY survey, carried out using the Australian SKA Pathfinder (ASKAP) telescope at Inyarrimanha Ilgari Bundara, CSIRO’s Murchison Radio-astronomy Observatory in Western Australia.

A new discovery from WALLABY, published today in Monthly Notices of the Royal Astronomical Society, sheds new light on the cosmic cycle of matter into, through and out of galaxies.

What is WALLABY?

Despite its name, WALLABY isn’t about animals. It’s a somewhat contrived acronym – Widefield ASKAP L-band Legacy All-sky Blind surveY – for a large survey of neutral hydrogen (the atomic form of hydrogen) across nearly half the southern sky. The ASKAP telescope is sensitive enough to detect hydrogen in and around galaxies up to a billion light years away.

Radio telescope dishes beneath an intense starry sky
The ASKAP radio telescope can detect hydrogen up to a billion light years away.
ICRAR

Because it’s a “blind” survey, WALLABY doesn’t target known galaxies. Instead, it scans huge patches of sky – each night covering an area about 150 times the size of the full Moon.

A galactic bridge

We then use automated algorithms to search for signs of hydrogen in the resulting data. One such search revealed an unusual gas bridge linking two otherwise unremarkable galaxies on the outskirts of the Virgo cluster, in the constellation Virgo. The bridge, at least 160,000 light years long, likely formed through tidal interactions between two dwarf galaxies known as NGC 4532 and DDO 137.

An image of red blobs and one of stars and galaxies.
Left: Radio astronomy image of neutral hydrogen gas in and around the galaxies NGC 4532 / DDO 137. Right: An optical image of the galaxies.
ICRAR and D.Lang (Perimeter Institute)

These tides are the cosmic equivalent of Earth’s ocean tides, but on a vastly larger scale and made of hydrogen rather than water. Gas pulled from the galaxies now stretches between them, filling the surrounding intergalactic space.

Such bridges are hard to detect because they contain few stars. But we have a local example: the Large and Small Magellanic Clouds, two dwarf galaxies orbiting the Milky Way, are joined by a 70,000-light-year-long gas bridge.

An extraordinary tail

The newly discovered bridge also helps explain a long-standing puzzle: an enormous gas tail streaming away from the dwarf galaxies NGC 4532 and DDO 137, first detected more than 30 years ago with the Arecibo telescope. This tail is ten times longer than the bridge and is the largest ever observed from a galaxy system.

New observations suggest that while tidal forces created the bridge and the envelope of gas around the galaxies, the spectacular tail was produced by another process.

As the pair of galaxies plunges into the Virgo cluster, they encounter extremely hot, thin gas that fills the cluster. The galaxies’ motion through this medium produces ram pressure – much like the resistance felt when cycling into a strong headwind – which strips gas from them and sweeps it out behind.

Remarkably, the gas density required for this effect is only around ten atoms per cubic metre, a value consistent with new measurements from the eROSITA X-ray telescope. Thanks to the galaxies’ high infall speed – more than 800 kilometres per second – this sparse medium is enough to create the vast tail.

The bigger picture

These two galaxies are just a fraction of the 200,000 WALLABY expects to detect by the end of its survey. Each discovery adds to our picture of how gas flows in and out of galaxies, enriching the intergalactic medium and shaping galactic evolution.

Together, they will help astronomers untangle the so-called baryonic cycle – the continuous recycling of matter between galaxies and the space around them.

The Conversation

Lister Staveley-Smith receives research funding from ICRAR, the Western Australian government, and the University of Western Australia.

ref. What a newly discovered gas bridge between galaxies tells us about the cosmic cycle of matter – https://theconversation.com/what-a-newly-discovered-gas-bridge-between-galaxies-tells-us-about-the-cosmic-cycle-of-matter-265760

Facing a shutdown, budget negotiations are much harder because Congress has given Trump power to cut spending through ‘rescission’

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Charlie Hunt, Associate Professor of Political Science, Boise State University

Will Congress keep the government running? Phil Roeder/Getty Images

Congress faces a deadline of Oct. 1 to adopt a spending measure to keep the federal government open. Various reporters will be interviewing serious people saying serious things in the basement corridors of the U.S. Capitol. There will also be political posturing, misrepresentation and either braggadocio or evasion. Politics editor Naomi Schalit interviewed congressional expert Charlie Hunt, a political scientist at Boise State University, about the now-perennial drama over spending in Congress and what’s very different about this year’s conflict.

In the past, how did Congress pass budgets so that government could keep operating?

Typically, you would get an actual passage of a full budget for a year. But in the last 20 or 30 years or so, since we’ve become a more polarized country with a polarized Congress, we have a lot of what are called continuing resolutions, or CRs.They’re stopgap measures – not the full budget – and don’t tend to make a lot of changes on a lot of the spending priorities that Congress has.

Continuing resolutions usually just extend current levels of spending for a short time so that the two parties can continue negotiating. But as negotiations over long-term budgets have tended to fail more and more, these CR’s are becoming more common, and Congress almost never passes a full budget on a yearly basis at this point.

A bunch of people in office clothes, crowded around something in a hallway.
You’ll be seeing a lot of this sort of scrum – reporters interviewing members of Congress – as spending gets wrangled over.
Matt McClain/The Washington Post via Getty Images

What’s the role of the president here?

The president has the power to veto any piece of legislation, and that includes the federal budget. Essentially, what majorities in Congress need when they are going into a budget fight is either the president’s implicit sign-off on whatever they pass, or they need enough votes to override the president’s veto.

Congress and the presidency right now are both held by Republicans, they’re in pretty deep alignment, so that’s not as much of a concern this time. It’s really just what Trump wants that needs to be a part of this legislation, and if there’s something in it that he really doesn’t like, then Congress needs to go back to the drawing board and the Republicans need to find out a way to get that into the bill.

What is driving each party in these negotiations?

Two different things are at work here. One is that Congress, as I mentioned, is really polarized. The two parties are farther apart from each other than they used to be. So the average Democrat and the average Republican aren’t going to agree as much on policy priorities and funding priorities than they did, say, in the 1980s or 1970s or before that.

The other thing is that Congress in recent decades has been more closely divided than they have been in the recent past, say, the last century. In both chambers, House and Senate, it’s very rare for one party or the other to have some massive majority. You need a majority of 60 in the Senate to have a chance at passing most legislation, for example, and this big a majority hasn’t happened since 2009. That’s something President Obama enjoyed with the Democrats for just a short period of time.

Since then, there have been very closely divided chambers in Congress, and that means that you need, at least in the Senate, some bipartisanship in order to pass that 60-vote threshold to break a filibuster. That’s what’s really gumming up the works right now. Democrats don’t feel like they’re being included in negotiations, and so they’re not likely to agree to a Republican-only budget in the Senate.

A man in a suit and wearing glasses, surrounded by reporters with mobile phones used to record him.
Speaker of the House Mike Johnson, a Republican from Louisiana, has been key to rallying House Republicans behind a stopgap funding bill to avert a shutdown.
Kent Nishimura/Getty Images

What is different about the 2025 budget fight than previous ones?

A lot of the dynamics are still the same. You still have partisan fighting. And you still have some divides within the two parties that I think are worth mentioning. One example: There was a Senate vote just the other day on one of these budget resolutions, and a couple of Republicans voted with the Democrats. So for some of these more deficit-hawk Republicans, that concern is still playing a role.

What’s new this time around is this element of rescissions. This is a tool that’s been available since the 1970s in which presidents ask Congress to rescind spending that they had allocated. This is what happened earlier this year with the rescissions on public broadcasting – NPR and PBS – that got a lot of attention, as well as on USAID. Trump said he wanted to cut funding for public broadcasting – the GOP in the Senate and House voted to let him. They didn’t need 60 votes in the Senate for a rescission, either. Just a majority for this move.

So in this case, Democrats are looking at this and thinking, “Why should we negotiate, if you’re just going to rescind that later on without our consent?” That’s a major element that’s changed. While it’s a power that has been in place for a while, Trump and the Republicans have been really willing to wield that.

Do you see this rescission power being exercised with every budget or continuing resolution that Congress passes?

This is a pretty serious breach of what we call Congress’ “power of the purse.” That spending power is set out in Article 1 of the Constitution. It is a key power, maybe their most important power and point of leverage they have in going back and forth with the president and making sure the executive branch doesn’t accrue too much power.




Read more:
Congress, not the president, decides on government spending − a constitutional law professor explains how the ‘power of the purse’ works


But if this rescission authority is going to be used in this way going forward, where basically any spending priority that the president doesn’t want or doesn’t want to fund is going to be subject to rescission, then Congress doesn’t really have the power of the purse, right? They have a president who is going to veto anything that doesn’t live up to their expectations, or they can just sign it and then ask for these rescissions later.

The key thing here is that President Trump currently has in Congress a set of Republicans in both the House and the Senate who are willing to do virtually anything he wants and are subject to a lot of the political pressures in their districts that put him in office in the first place. So if they don’t go along with rescissions, they’re going to face the wrath of their Republican voters in their district.

That’s one thing that’s really changed in the last 30 years that I think gives the president a lot more authority in these matters, and makes rescission such a powerful tool that did not exist before.

The Conversation

Charlie 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. Facing a shutdown, budget negotiations are much harder because Congress has given Trump power to cut spending through ‘rescission’ – https://theconversation.com/facing-a-shutdown-budget-negotiations-are-much-harder-because-congress-has-given-trump-power-to-cut-spending-through-rescission-265827

En République centrafricaine, tous les citoyens ne sont pas égaux dans l’isoloir

Source: The Conversation – in French – By Alexandra Lamarche, PhD Candidate | Doctorante, Université de Montréal

En République centrafricaine (RCA), voter devient un outil d’exclusion : les élections en décembre ne visent pas à refléter la volonté populaire, mais à effacer ceux que le régime ne reconnaît pas comme pleinement centrafricains, en particulier les musulmans.

Le 28 décembre, les citoyens de la RCA se rendront aux urnes pour la première élection depuis la réforme de la Constitution, qui a supprimé la limite du nombre de mandats présidentiels.

Avec 2,3 millions d’électeurs inscrits, dont près de 750 000 nouveaux, ce scrutin est présenté par les médias comme un signe d’engagement démocratique renouvelé. Mais derrière les chiffres se dessine une réalité bien plus inquiétante : une élection soigneusement façonnée pour consolider le pouvoir d’un régime nativiste, qui redéfinit la citoyenneté pour mieux exclure.

Sous le couvert d’une procédure démocratique, le gouvernement de Faustin-Archange Touadéra recourt à la répression pour créer un électorat composé uniquement de « vrais » Centrafricains, excluant ceux qu’il considère comme étrangers, en particulier les musulmans. Il en résulte une élection qui n’est ni libre ni représentative, mais plutôt un outil d’exclusion nativiste.

Le nativisme repose sur une distinction entre les « autochtones » supposés légitimes et les « étrangers » perçus comme une menace pour l’identité nationale. Ces conceptions donnent lieu à des hiérarchies d’appartenance, où certains groupes sont considérés comme des membres plus légitimes de la nation que d’autres.

Cette idéologie est bien connue au-delà du continent africain. Aux États-Unis, par exemple, ce réflexe nativiste se traduit non seulement par des politiques anti-immigration de Donald Trump, mais aussi par une hostilité croissante envers les migrants eux-mêmes, présentés comme une menace culturelle et économique. En Inde, sous la direction de Narendra Modi et de son parti nationaliste hindou, le BJP, un nativisme religieux s’est renforcé, redéfinissant l’identité nationale en termes hindous et marginalisant les minorités, notamment musulmanes.

Cet article utilise ces concepts pour démontrer qu’en RCA, le nativisme dépasse la simple construction de hiérarchies d’appartenance pour servir activement de moteur idéologique à la répression étatique. En tant que chercheuse en science politique à l’Université de Montréal, spécialisée sur la République centrafricaine, je m’appuie sur mon expérience récente de terrain auprès de musulmans centrafricains.

Qui est vraiment Centrafricain ? Quand le pouvoir redéfinit l’identité

Malgré les discours nativistes, les musulmans ne sont pas des nouveaux arrivants en RCA. Leur présence dans le pays remonte en effet à deux siècles. Alors que le pays est depuis longtemps polarisé sur le plan ethnique, plus récemment, les discours nativistes mobilisés par l’ancien président François Bozizé ont exacerbé les tensions entre la majorité chrétienne et la minorité musulmane du pays, jouant un rôle important dans le déclenchement de la guerre civile de 2013-2014.

Malgré la fin officielle du conflit, l’instabilité persiste. En continuant à présenter les musulmans comme des invités, souvent liés à leurs origines du Tchad ou du Soudan actuels, les discours nativistes du gouvernement du président Faustin-Archange Touadéra délégitiment la citoyenneté musulmane, tant dans les discours que dans la pratique, et justifient la répression violente et administrative menée par l’État.

Quand voter devient un privilège

Entre janvier et mars 2025, j’ai mené 42 entretiens de terrain avec des musulmans centrafricains au sujet de leurs expériences de répression en RCA. Bien que leurs vécus varient, ces entretiens ont permis de mieux comprendre les obstacles bureaucratiques et les problèmes de sécurité qui limitent et entravent la participation politique des musulmans, réduisant ainsi l’électorat en fonction de l’identité.

Cette exclusion repose sur trois mécanismes : un accès inégal aux cartes d’identité nécessaires pour s’inscrire, des obstacles à la participation le jour du vote, et l’exclusion des réfugiés, majoritairement musulmans.

Peu de musulmans centrafricains ont pu obtenir leur carte d’identité nationale facilement… quand ils y parviennent. Beaucoup se voient exiger des documents supplémentaires pour prouver leur citoyenneté : certificats de naissance, de résidence et de nationalité, souvent remontant jusqu’aux parents et grands-parents. Tous disent avoir payé plus que leurs compatriotes chrétiens pour les mêmes démarches.

Ces paiements sont parfois présentés comme des frais administratifs ; d’autres parlent ouvertement de pots-de-vin. Certains ont même été harcelés par les forces armées centrafricaines (FACA) et leurs alliés russes en tentant de régulariser leur situation. Une femme, venue obtenir les papiers de sa famille à Bangui, raconte avoir été menacée par les FACA et sommée de quitter le pays.

Pour ceux qui ont perdu leurs documents dans les déplacements liés aux conflits, obtenir une carte est quasiment impossible. Face à ces obstacles, beaucoup renoncent. D’autres, refusant de céder, s’accrochent malgré le harcèlement, les coûts et les humiliations, souvent sans succès.

À cela s’ajoute une pratique alarmante : la confiscation des papiers par les FACA. Un homme témoigne :

En 2023, ils m’ont arrêté, volé mes papiers, mon certificat de naissance, ma carte d’identité. Ils m’ont battu et dit que je n’étais pas digne d’avoir des documents centrafricains

Et même parmi ceux qui parviendront à voter, la peur domine. Lors des élections de 2020-2021, plusieurs musulmans disent avoir été forcés à voter pour Touadéra. Une femme se souvient :

Les FACA m’ont suivie jusqu’à l’isoloir et m’ont montré son nom sur le bulletin. Je savais que c’était illégal, mais j’avais trop peur pour dire non.

Les réfugiés centrafricains — qui ont fui pendant la guerre civile ou depuis — n’ont plus le droit de vote. Bien qu’ils aient participé aux premières élections d’après-guerre, le gouvernement les maintient à l’écart depuis, malgré les appels répétés des Nations unies pour leur inclusion.

« Nous sommes exclus à cause de la mentalité que les musulmans ne sont pas centrafricains », résume un homme interrogé.

Un vote qui divise

Ces obstacles et restrictions à l’exercice du droit de vote sont des indicateurs clairs d’une marginalisation systémique. Ils soulignent que lorsque des élections post-guerre civile ont lieu dans des régimes nativistes, elles ne sont pas des signes de progrès, mais des instruments permettant de légitimer l’exclusion et de consolider le pouvoir parmi ceux qui sont considérés comme de « vrais » citoyens.

L’exclusion des musulmans n’est pas une réponse aux troubles persistants dans le pays, mais une stratégie visant à restreindre l’accès à la vie politique et à redéfinir les contours de la citoyenneté. À l’approche des élections en RCA, cette dynamique illustre comment les régimes nativistes peuvent utiliser les élections pour décider à qui appartient — et qui est exclu — de la nation.

Ce cas ne s’inscrit pas seulement dans l’histoire de la République centrafricaine : il reflète une tendance mondiale où le populisme, le nationalisme et les politiques identitaires redéfinissent les frontières de l’appartenance. En RCA comme aux États-Unis, en Europe ou en Inde, les régimes nativistes peuvent transformer les élections en armes d’exclusion.

La Conversation Canada

Alexandra Lamarche est financée par le Conseil de recherches en sciences humaines (CRSH) du Canada

ref. En République centrafricaine, tous les citoyens ne sont pas égaux dans l’isoloir – https://theconversation.com/en-republique-centrafricaine-tous-les-citoyens-ne-sont-pas-egaux-dans-lisoloir-264538

Jane Austen’s real and literary worlds weren’t exclusively white – just read her last book, Sanditon

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Olivia Carpenter, Lecturer in Literature, University of York

Jane Austen penned the last sentences of her unfinished manuscript for the novel we know as Sanditon in March 1817 before she died that July. Like me, many Austen fans often stumble upon this work after they have read all six of her completed novels.

At this point, readers of Austen feel like they know her and have sought out Sanditon because they want more of what they loved in her other works. However, they are often surprised by what they find.

In the final months of her life, Austen had moved away from writing about the English country house. The titular Sanditon is instead a seaside health resort, and the novel follows characters who spend a season there trying to get healthy or wealthy.

Austen’s most striking departure from the rest of her work, however, is in her inclusion of the character of Miss Lambe – a young heiress staying at the resort who is of African descent. Sanditon is the only Austen novel to contain an explicitly Black character.

Sanditon’s narrator explains that Miss Lambe is a mixed-race Black heiress of just 17 years old. Austen calls her a “chilly and tender” girl who attracts attention because she requires luxuries such as “a maid of her own”, and “the best room in the lodgings”.

Far from being disadvantaged because of race, Miss Lambe has more privileges than many of her white peers, and they react with interest and envy. The resort’s scheming foundress, Lady Denham, even fantasises about making an advantageous match for her nephew with the girl.


This article is part of a series commemorating the 250th anniversary of Jane Austen’s birth. Despite having published only six books, she is one of the best-known authors in history. These articles explore the legacy and life of this incredible writer.


Miss Lambe’s presence in Austen’s novel presents a stark challenge to any assumptions that Austen never wrote about people of colour. Many still assume that authors in Austen’s time simply weren’t writing about Black characters.

However, Miss Lambe is not the only character of this background to appear in books of the period. I am currently finishing up a book on the subject of Black representation in British marriage plots. I research Black characters who are heiresses, escapees, keepers of dark secrets, and participants in all manner of surprise twists and turns.

For example, in the anonymously authored 1808 novel The Woman of Colour, trouble ensues when a young Black woman, Olivia Fairfield, travels to England from Jamaica in order to marry according to her father’s wishes.

There have also been several rich and wonderful research projects demonstrating the enormous variety of Black British history in Jane Austen’s England. The writer and academic Gretchen Gerzina’s book Black England, for example, brings to life a vision of this world that included Black community, activism and intellectualism.




Read more:
Austen and Turner: A Country House Encounter captures the spirit of two great geniuses, born 250 years ago


The Mapping Black London project, a stunningly detailed digital resource from Northeastern University, London, provides interactive maps demonstrating evidence of Black life in the city through the records of everyday people. We can see the proof of Black Britons being baptised, getting married, or being buried in London during Austen’s lifetime.

We can also turn to Black writers from the period who tell us their story directly, such as Olaudah Equiano, Ottobah Cugoano, and Mary Prince. Black British writers like these commented directly on their experience of finding ways to survive the violence of transatlantic chattel slavery.

In contrast to these writers’ real experiences, however, Miss Lambe’s in Austen’s literary take on Regency England is markedly different. As an heiress, she has a lot more in common with real historical figures who were the children of white British enslavers and Afro-Caribbean women.




Read more:
Jane Austen: why are adaptations of Mansfield Park and Northanger Abbey so rare?


The scholar of early American and Atlantic history, Daniel Livesay, has written extensively on these figures in his book Children of Uncertain Fortune, detailing the lives of the privileged few who were acknowledged by white fathers, and were either born free or granted their freedom. Such children were often educated on both sides of the Atlantic and might apply for special legal status, giving them similar rights to those of white British subjects.

Austen hints at this background for Miss Lambe in discussions of her wealth. Like the children Livesay discusses, Miss Lambe has left the West Indies and is now growing up in England. She is in the care of Mrs Griffiths, an older lady who treats her as “beyond comparison the most important and precious” client. This is because Miss Lambe “paid in proportion to her fortune”.

A wealthy family member would have needed to set up this arrangement with Mrs Griffiths. The family member also would have helped Miss Lambe gain the special legal status necessary for a Black person to inherit a fortune under colonial law.

While we can celebrate Austen’s inclusion of a Black character, we know that representation alone is not empowerment. As Kerry Sinanan, an academic in pre-1800 literature and culture, has insisted, we need to be careful about an uncritical celebration of Austen’s “radical politics”.




Read more:
Jane Austen at 250: Why we shouldn’t exaggerate her radicalism


When we think of Black life in Austen’s world we need to think both about the Black wealth and privilege Austen chooses to represent in Miss Lambe as well as the enslavement Austen never addresses. If we long for Austen to be a champion of all women, including Black women, we may be sorely disappointed by Austen’s ten brief sentences mentioning her sole Black character.

Nevertheless, Miss Lambe remains an important reminder as we celebrate Austen’s enduring legacy 250 years on: Black British life and experience have always been part of British literature and history. Remembering this character in Austen’s writing can only help to add urgency to the ongoing re-evaluation of how we teach, learn and understand that literature and history.


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


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The Conversation

Olivia Carpenter does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

ref. Jane Austen’s real and literary worlds weren’t exclusively white – just read her last book, Sanditon – https://theconversation.com/jane-austens-real-and-literary-worlds-werent-exclusively-white-just-read-her-last-book-sanditon-264813

Why you don’t have to block roads or glue yourself to buildings to be a climate activist

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Bob Walley, Researcher in Climate Change Engagement and Communication, University of Lancashire

A protestor outside Preston New Road Fracking Site in Lancashire. Bob Walley, CC BY-NC-ND

“Get a job!” shouted yet another driver going past me in the sweeping rain outside Preston New Road fracking site, on another bitingly cold winters day. Recipients of these outbursts were mostly retirees like the Nanas of Lancashire (a group of women from the northern shire of England who had become prominent anti-fracking activists).

My mum often joined me and other protesters to oppose the exploratory drilling that throughout 2018 and 2019 caused earthquakes. Local people were worried about the damage this could do to their homes, the water they rely on and the area’s nature and wildlife.

When it got too cold and I could see mum was starting to get the shivers, we would go back to my family home for a nice cup of tea, leaving the die hards to keep guard 24/7, continuing the fight until we could rejoin them next time.

“It’ll never make any difference,” Dad would comment as we put the kettle on. As a reader of Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring – the 1962 book which exposed the destruction of wildlife through the widespread use of pesticides – and a school teacher all his life, he knew all too well the threats of the climate and ecological emergency. Especially once I joined the environmental protest movement.

But activism was not for him. “What was the point?” he’d wonder.

I can see why many people might feel like that. Especially when the decision by Lancashire County Council to reject fracking at Preston New Road was overruled by the Conservative government of the time, and the magnitude of permitted earthquakes was raised.




Read more:
Fracking causes earthquakes by design: can regulation keep up?


Frontline activism is certainly not for everyone. Especially when some journalists and politicians would have people believe these “eco-zealots” are the “enemies of society”, due to the disruption that can be caused by increasingly desperate and urgent protests and actions.

Stereotypes remain strong in public opinion and news sources often get basic climate change facts wrong. A quick google image search for “environmental activists” shows people with banners blocking roads, shouting into megaphones and looking angry. Perhaps even throwing soup at a painting or gluing themselves to the front of an office building if you scroll down a bit.

people standing around white protest banner about ecocide
Local activists blockade the front gate of Preston New Road Fracking Site in Lancashire, stopping any vehicles coming in and out of the site.
Bob Walley, CC BY-NC-ND

The radical flank frontline

More radical groups know that more disruptive actions lead to greater likelihood of coverage. This can lead to a “radical flank effect”, referring to the comparative outcome that occurs when more radical factions of a social movement like climate activism operate in the same arena as more moderate or less confrontational sections of that movement. The radical flank creates space behind it for others to move into and opportunities for social change can appear.

A vital role it would seem. But this doesn’t tell the whole story of what an activist is.

In a recent research study, I interviewed activists across a range of different ages, circumstances and ideological positions, from Just Stop Oil and Greenpeace to local wildlife trusts and community garden projects. All share concern for the future of life on this planet, trying to do what they can, where they can, to help shape a society we all deserve to live in.

Many express frustration and anger, alongside recognition, that the status quo and current economics are given more importance in political discourse and action than the large‐scale changes required to live sustainably within the natural world. One middle-aged woman who volunteers at the local climate hub (a public space for people involved in climate action) expressed “very little faith in governments. Just massive disappointment.”

The recent changes to protest laws which further vilify environmental activists and mean harsher sentences for attending zoom calls or holding a placard are seen as terrifyingly authoritarian. Yet a young employee of the group Surfers Against Sewage noted they are effective in that they “turn away the people who were kind of on the fence a little bit about it. But … it will also inspire others who are just like, dead against the injustice of it.”

My team’s research indicates a sense of despair due to this political inaction and pushback against those who speak out. Some on the radical flanks are seen by more conservative activists as too radical, and some on the flanks see those more conservative as too “soft” to generate the required changes.

Yet there is recognition of the vital roles everyone can play. A long-term Extinction Rebellion activist who now resides in Calderdale in West Yorkshire, recognised there needed to be “people fighting in different ways on so many different fronts, and I think there’s strength in supporting each other, if we can”.

Fracking was stopped in Lancashire. It was stopped by the Nanas, my mum and the many others on the radical flank frontline. But also by all of those working behind the scenes who put in time to lobby or protest in their own way. It was all these pieces of the puzzle working together that led to victory in Lancashire.

Our research shows you don’t have to be waving a placard shouting into a megaphone, although there is an important place for that too. Crucially, there are many roles for us all and ways we can work towards that future we all deserve to live in.


Don’t have time to read about climate change as much as you’d like?

Get a weekly roundup in your inbox instead. Every Wednesday, The Conversation’s environment editor writes Imagine, a short email that goes a little deeper into just one climate issue. Join the 45,000+ readers who’ve subscribed so far.


The Conversation

Bob Walley receives funding from various internal research institutes and external funding bodies for the research and community projects he coordinates. He is affiliated with the University of Exeter, the University of Lancashire and Envirolution Network.

ref. Why you don’t have to block roads or glue yourself to buildings to be a climate activist – https://theconversation.com/why-you-dont-have-to-block-roads-or-glue-yourself-to-buildings-to-be-a-climate-activist-260714

El número de Dios o el cuerpo como mapa del universo

Source: The Conversation – (in Spanish) – By Amador Miguel González Crespo, Director ETS Ingeniería y Sistemas de Telecomunicación-UPM, Universidad Politécnica de Madrid (UPM)

El número áureo esta relacionado con la sucesión de Fibonacci (1,1,2,3,5,8,13,21…) la cual se encuentra presente en proporciones de todo tipo, desde proporciones en el arte, la naturaleza en general hasta estructuras arquitectónicas. Roberta Conti / Wikimedia Commons., CC BY

Hace 2500 años, un griego, cansado de discutir en el ágora sobre justicia, filosofía, política y matemáticas, decidió que lo verdaderamente importante era medir el cuerpo humano. Así germinó el canon de Policleto el Viejo: la obsesión por encontrar la simetría perfecta.

Copia romana del Doríforo («portador de una lanza») de Policleto, conservada en el Museo Arqueológico Nacional de Nápoles.
Wikimedia Commons., CC BY

El selfi más famoso de la historia

Veinte siglos después, Leonardo da Vinci dibujó el célebre Hombre de Vitrubio, basado en el canon romano de la arquitectura, como reflejo del orden de la naturaleza. El resultado fue ese señor desnudo atrapado en un círculo y un cuadrado. El mensaje era –y sigue siendo– provocador: si extendemos los brazos, somos tan anchos como altos, con nuestro ombligo en el centro geométrico de este universo de belleza perfecta.

Da Vinci, adelantado a su tiempo en tantos campos, convirtió las proporciones humanas en un diagrama viral cinco siglos antes de Instagram y la cirugía estética masiva.

La fiebre del número de Dios

Detrás de todo esto acechaba la proporción áurea (o divina proporción): 1,618…. Este número parece materializarse por primera vez en varias estelas de Babilonia y Asiria hace 4 000 años, pero también en las conchas marinas, en la Gioconda, [en las pirámides, en los templos griegos y romanos] y en la torre Eiffel.

También aparece al subir una escalera: nuestros pies encuentran un equilibrio natural entre la huella (parte horizontal) y la contrahuella (parte vertical). Curiosamente, la relación entre ambas suele rondar 1,6, muy próxima al número áureo. No es porque los arquitectos lo hayan buscado, sino porque el cuerpo humano dicta medidas cómodas que terminan rozando la divina proporción. Así, igual que con las baldosas de 3,16 decímetros que pisamos, la matemática se nos cuela en lo cotidiano casi sin darnos cuenta.

Receta de la belleza

Este número irracional de infinitos decimales fue descrito detalladamente en el siglo XIII por Leonardo de Pisa, más conocido como Fibonacci. Todo comenzó con un problema aparentemente inofensivo: ¿cuántos pares de conejos pueden nacer de una sola pareja en un año, si cada mes cada pareja madura y empieza a reproducirse? Sin quererlo, dio pie a una de las historias más bellas de las matemáticas. La secuencia de número naturales resultante es la famosa sucesión de Fibonacci:

1 , 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144…

Inicialmente tenemos dos unos, un conejo y una coneja, y cada nuevo término surge de sumar los dos anteriores: como si los números también tuvieran su propio instinto de apareamiento.

Hasta aquí, nada más que una simpática progresión. Pero si dividimos cada número por el anterior, surge la magia: 3/2 = 1,5; 5/3 = 1,66; 8/5 = 1,6… y así hasta alcanzar en el límite del infinito el número de Dios: 1,6180339… Es como si los conejos de Fibonacci, además de multiplicarse seductora y enigmáticamente, hubieran inventado un canon estético.

Y es que la sucesión de Fibonacci también parece habitar en nuestro cuerpo: la relación entre nuestra altura y la altura hasta el ombligo, entre la distancia del hombro a los dedos y la distancia del codo a los dedos, entre la altura de la cadera y la altura de la rodilla, entre el primer hueso de los dedos (metacarpiano) y la primera falange. Y también la relación entre falanges sucesivas, entre nuestra sonrisa y nuestra mandíbula. Un festival matemático que algunos presentan como la “receta secreta” de la belleza.

El Hombre de Vitrubio, dibujado por Leonardo da Vinci en 1492.
Wikimedia Commons., CC BY

El eco cósmico de una proporción humana

Incluso, algunos astrofísicos nos muestran que patrones parecidos aparecen en lugares inesperados: algunas galaxias espirales o las vibraciones ocultas de las estrellas parecen resonar con el mismo número misterioso.

La proporción áurea parece tan ubicua que uno empieza a sospechar que hay trampa. ¿De verdad está en todo o simplemente la buscamos con la misma fe con la que algunos encuentran a su signo zodiacal en el horóscopo?
¿Cuánto hay de verdad y cuánto de necesidad humana en reducir todo a relaciones sencillas que podamos entender?

La proporción áurea no es un patrón demostrado en la estructura del cosmos, aunque pueda aparecer como aproximación en múltiples sistemas naturales. Su fuerza divina reside más en lo metafórico y lo simbólico: un puente entre la escala humana (arte, cuerpo, arquitectura) y el universo (galaxias, dinámica natural).

Sin embargo, el debate inveterado persiste entre el deseo de un dios matemático perfecto que da sentido a la existencia y la cuantificación matemática de la realidad.

Medirse para entenderlo todo

El número de Fibonacci, aplicado al Quijote.
Armando Ríos Almarza. Medir sin metro, Ayuntamiento de Ávila, 2006.

El hecho de llamar a las matemáticas “un lenguaje universal que conecta al ser humano con los patrones del arte, la biología y el cosmos” no significa que exista un único número mágico gobernándolo todo. Lo que realmente conecta esas dimensiones es la tendencia de la naturaleza y del ser humano a generar proporciones, simetrías y regularidades que nos ayudan a entender el mundo y predecir el incierto futuro. La proporción áurea es solo una de tantas fórmulas posibles, quizá la más célebre por su elegancia y por las veces que parece aproximarse a fenómenos naturales y creaciones humanas.

La incógnita interesante no es si el número áureo está realmente en todas partes, sino por qué seguimos buscándolo, por qué nos atrae tanto la idea de que una simple proporción pueda tender un puente entre nuestra anatomía, los templos griegos y las espirales galácticas.

La pregunta queda flotando

Tal vez todo sea fruto de nuestra obstinación en encontrar sentido donde, quizás, solo hay azar. ¿De verdad compartimos un patrón secreto con las estrellas, o lo inventamos porque nos fascina reconocernos en todo lo que brilla?

Esa respuesta, queridos lectores, nos obligaría a desplegar toda la artillería del pensamiento, la filosofía, el arte, la historia, la física y, por supuesto, las matemáticas. Habría que escribir tratados enteros, organizar congresos y quizá hasta invocar a los mismísimos Policleto y Fibonacci para que nos marquen el compás. Difícil, ¿verdad?

Aunque, si lo pensamos bien, más difícil todavía es resistirse a seguir midiéndonos la nariz frente al espejo con la esperanza de descubrir en ella los secretos del universo.

The Conversation

Las personas firmantes no son asalariadas, ni consultoras, ni poseen acciones, ni reciben financiación de ninguna compañía u organización que pueda obtener beneficio de este artículo, y han declarado carecer de vínculos relevantes más allá del cargo académico citado anteriormente.

ref. El número de Dios o el cuerpo como mapa del universo – https://theconversation.com/el-numero-de-dios-o-el-cuerpo-como-mapa-del-universo-263289

Cómo afrontar el discurso de odio en la escuela

Source: The Conversation – (in Spanish) – By Jorge Soto Carballo, Profesor Contratado Doctor, Universidade de Vigo

Unai Huizi Photography/Shutterstock

En las escuelas conviven culturas, idiomas y trayectorias diversas. Los espacios escolares, sin embargo, no están a salvo de determinadas actitudes de hostilidad de mayor o menor intensidad hacia el diferente, que pueden traducirse en chistes repetidos en el recreo, silencios incómodos en clase cuando alguien alza la voz contra un estereotipo o la infravaloración académica de estudiantes por su origen.

¿Qué sucede cuando una niña migrante escucha que “viene a quitarnos las ayudas”? ¿O cuando un adolescente racializado es excluido de ciertos espacios escolares? El aumento de la xenofobia, el racismo o la islamofobia está documentado por organismos internacionales, y ese odio se cuela en los pasillos de los centros escolares y en las pantallas de los móviles, reforzado por algoritmos que premian el contenido sensacionalista y polarizador.

Según datos del Consejo de Europa, los mensajes de odio en línea han crecido de forma exponencial en la última década. La OSCE advierte que estos discursos están vinculados al aumento de delitos motivados por prejuicios. Y las Naciones Unidas lo señalan como una de las amenazas más serias para la convivencia democrática del siglo XXI en su United Nations Human Rights Report 2022 (OHCHR).

¿Qué entendemos por discurso del odio?

El discurso del odio no es solo una opinión desagradable. Es una forma de comunicación, verbal, escrita o simbólica, que ataca a personas o colectivos por lo que son: su color de piel, su religión, su orientación sexual, su procedencia… Su objetivo no es debatir, sino deshumanizar. Y cuando esto ocurre, lo que viene después rara vez es pacífico.

No hay una definición única aceptada a nivel internacional, pero sí un consenso creciente: el odio no es una emoción neutra. Es un acto político, social y comunicativo que deja huellas profundas en quienes lo sufren y en quienes lo reproducen. La frontera entre libertad de expresión y fomento del odio sigue siendo espinosa. Mientras en Europa existen límites legales claros al discurso del odio, en Estados Unidos prima la Primera Enmienda, que lo protege como una manifestación de la libertad de expresión.

Inmigración, adolescencia y resiliencia

Los menores migrantes no acompañados son a menudo los más expuestos a estereotipos negativos. En España, más de 10 000 jóvenes estuvieron tutelados por las comunidades autónomas. Muchos llegan tras trayectos marcados por el desarraigo y la violencia. Frente a la narrativa de la amenaza, es urgente visibilizar su resiliencia, su esfuerzo y su deseo de construir un futuro digno.

Pero el sistema no siempre está preparado. Al cumplir 18 años, muchos jóvenes quedan fuera de las redes de protección y se enfrentan a un mercado laboral hostil, sin apoyos suficientes.




Leer más:
Menores tutelados: ¿qué les depara el futuro al alcanzar la mayoría de edad?


Cuando el odio se cuela en el aula

Aunque hay iniciativas positivas, aún falta investigación sobre cómo el odio opera entre el alumnado y cómo contrarrestarlo. Sabemos que los mensajes de odio se propagan más rápido que las estrategias pedagógicas para frenarlos. Pero también sabemos que el aula es un espacio privilegiado para construir ciudadanía crítica, empática y plural. Esto requiere profesorado formado, con recursos didácticos adecuados y apoyo institucional para abordar la diversidad desde la inclusión y no desde la mera tolerancia.

La respuesta no puede ser solo jurídica o policial. El discurso del odio se combate también con educación: una educación que enseñe a pensar, a convivir y a empatizar. Proyectos pedagógicos que incorporen testimonios migrantes, análisis críticos del lenguaje, experiencias de aprendizaje-servicio o formación docente en justicia social son caminos posibles.




Leer más:
Cómo fomentar el espíritu crítico en los jóvenes sin convertirlos en opinadores de todo


Muchas escuelas han implementado talleres de alfabetización mediática y programas de convivencia intercultural. En Galicia, por ejemplo, algunos centros han trabajado con asociaciones locales en proyectos de aprendizaje servicio que conectan alumnado y comunidades migrantes.

Iniciativas para estudiantes

En el ámbito educativo se han desarrollado distintas iniciativas orientadas a contrarrestar el discurso de odio y favorecer la inclusión. Un ejemplo es Break the Hate Chain!, guía educativa impulsada en España por la Fundación FAD Juventud (FAD) y Maldita.es con el apoyo de Google.org, que propone actividades dirigidas a jóvenes de entre 14 y 19 años con el objetivo de trabajar la convivencia, el pensamiento crítico y la construcción de discursos inclusivos.




Leer más:
Así pueden los periodistas luchar contra la desinformación desde las escuelas


En el plano europeo, la iniciativa Education Stops Hate genera recursos educativos abiertos, guías prácticas y kits pedagógicos que permiten al profesorado abordar el odio en las aulas y promover el diálogo intercultural. Finalmente, el proyecto Inmigración, adolescencia y resiliencia centra su atención en los desafíos que atraviesan los adolescentes en contextos migratorios, al tiempo que pone en valor los factores de resiliencia como claves para avanzar en la inclusión social y educativa.

Contra el odio, una pedagogía del cuidado

Frente a la banalización del odio, necesitamos pedagogías del cuidado, de la escucha, de la palabra compartida. Una ciudadanía capaz de detectar y desmontar el odio no se construye solo con leyes o con tuits. Se construye en las aulas, con vínculos, con presencia, con proyectos como los ya citados, que demuestran que es posible.

La Agenda 2030, en su Objetivo de Desarrollo Sostenible 4 (ODS 4), recuerda que una educación inclusiva y de calidad es clave para promover la igualdad y la paz. Combatir el odio no es únicamente frenar un problema puntual: es apostar por un futuro en el que la diversidad sea reconocida como una riqueza y no como una amenaza.

Porque el odio no se combate con silencio: se combate con una educación que no deja a nadie atrás.

The Conversation

Jorge Soto Carballo 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. Cómo afrontar el discurso de odio en la escuela – https://theconversation.com/como-afrontar-el-discurso-de-odio-en-la-escuela-223891