Category: Analysis

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Jonathan Silver, Professor of Urban Geography, University of Sheffield

The US and Israel have sparked international condemnation over their leaked vision for the reconstruction of a shattered Gaza. The urban development plan seems to have evolved since its emergence earlier in the year. It now includes economic drivers such as blockchain-based trade initiatives, data centres and “world-class resorts”.

And its alignment to the proposed regional logistical network, the India-Middle East-Europe Corridor (Imec) aims to put it at the centre of a pro-American regional architecture.

The images and details that have emerged in the Gaza Reconstitution, Economic Acceleration and Transformation (Great) Trust blueprint indicate a vision that clearly pays homage to Gulf urbanism. Similar mega-projects, towers and speculative real estate ventures have driven the transformation of Dubai and other Gulf cities since the 1980s.

The 38-page document, initially published in the Washington Post, is an architectural fantasy of a hyper-modern, coastal enclave. Its planning origins seem twofold. First, it’s rooted in the libertarian ideologies of what’s known as a charter city – urban development spaces with different laws and institutions than the jurisdiction they sit within, such as Prospera in Honduras.

Second, it appears to take inspiration from the authoritarian control of oil-rich monarchies such as the UAE and Saudi Arabia. These states are now intimately aligned with US president Donald Trump and Israel itself.

The plan was reportedly aided by the Boston Consulting Group, with staff from the Tony Blair Institute apparently privy to previous discussions. Boston Consulting Group has since said that two of its former partners took part in the work without its knowledge. The Tony Blair Institute has also distanced itself, saying it has never “authored, developed or endorsed” plans to relocate residents from Gaza.

The US$100 billion (£74 billion) investor-led plan has all the standard ingredients of a new city. This includes prestige waterfront developments for the international elite. It envisages apartment blocks owned by international real estate developers, whether Saudi state-owned funds or US corporate trusts.

Special economic zones with favourable tax conditions supposedly promise advanced manufacturing potential. And various kinds of green and sustainable technologies are also proposed – potentially greenwashing the massive carbon footprint of the conflict.

Gaza is unlikely to be the next Dubai though. The plan includes massive Israeli security buffer zones, suggesting the likelihood of resistance from Palestinian militant groups to occupation. In all likelihood, it would also finally extinguish any prospect of a two-state solution.

The risks for financial investors will be massive. These include possible legal liabilities around land theft and potential incorporation into court proceedings on genocide at the International Court of Justice should these happen. It’s no wonder the plan has been described as “insane” by a senior associate at the Royal United Services Institute think tank, and opposed by some parts of the Israeli media.

Understanding the urban dimensions of the “Gaza Riviera” plan needs more than a planning lens though. It involves placing its development within the wider history and geography of Palestine. Doing so arguably positions the initiative less as a reconstruction effort and more as the next step towards the erasure of the Palestinian presence in the territory.

Scholars of settler colonialism have shown that its logic is one of elimination. This, it’s explained, is to enable territorial control and to establish a new settler society on the land. As Theodor Herzl, founding father of Zionism and held in high regard by Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu, argued: “If I wish to substitute a new building for an old one, I must demolish before I construct.”

Israel has previously asserted territorial control over Gaza, including the forced transfer of Palestinians to the territory in 1948, which they refer to as the Nakba (the catastrophe), as well as with illegal settlements between 1967 and 2005, and the blockade of the strip from 2007. All these forms of control should be understood within the logic of elimination. The most recent military onslaught in Gaza demonstrates the latest phase in this process.

The plan is reliant on two on-the-ground factors beyond the financial and geo-political – urbicide and expulsion. First, establishing this new society involves demolishing centuries of historical built environment and the support networks of urban life. This urbicide of Gaza is the deliberate destruction of its civil infrastructure, built environment, roads and hospitals, removing its physical character and functionality as a settlement.

What the plan would mean for Palestinians

Forensic Architecture is a group of researchers who use architectural techniques to investigate state violence and human rights abuses. Its Cartography of Genocide database has documented that the Israel Defense Forces’ spatial violence has been nearly complete in many areas of Gaza. This sets the necessary conditions for the plan to proceed.

The plan has little space for the 2.3 million Palestinians living in Gaza. There are reports of residents being offered up to US$5,000 to make way for the “Riviera”, supposedly on a temporary basis.

Meanwhile the Israeli military continues killing Palestinian civilians and pushing massive displacement within Gaza itself, while far-right Israeli politicians make public their desire to remove Palestinians from the territory.

Claims that Israel is committing genocide in Gaza – including from the International Association of Genocide Scholars – are becoming more widespread. Israel’s actions have resulted in death and injury to tens of thousands of Palestinians. The plan for the redevelopment of Gaza can also be understood within this settler colonial logic: an urban idea that, in order to be achieved, necessitates the erasure of all that stood before through the expulsion of the population and urbicide of the built environment.

Jonathan Silver 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. The ‘Gaza Riviera’ is a fantasy plan that relies on urbicide and expulsion – https://theconversation.com/the-gaza-riviera-is-a-fantasy-plan-that-relies-on-urbicide-and-expulsion-264811

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Laura Elin Pigott, Senior Lecturer in Neurosciences and Neurorehabilitation, Course Leader in the College of Health and Life Sciences, London South Bank University

Cats may have a reputation for independence, but emerging research suggests we share a unique connection with them – fuelled by brain chemistry.

The main chemical involved is oxytocin, often called the love hormone. It’s the same neurochemical that surges when a mother cradles her baby or when friends hug, fostering trust and affection. And now studies are showing oxytocin is important for cat-human bonding too.

Read more:
Your dog can read your mind – sort of

Oxytocin plays a central role in social bonding, trust and stress regulation in many animals, including humans. One 2005 experiment showed that oxytocin made human volunteers significantly more willing to trust others in financial games.

Oxytocin also has calming effects in humans and animals, as it suppresses the stress hormone cortisol and activates the parasympathetic nervous system (the rest and digest system) to help the body relax.

Scientists have long known that friendly interactions trigger oxytocin release in both dogs and their owners, creating a mutual feedback loop of bonding. Until recently, though, not much was known about its effect in cats.

Cats are more subtle in showing affection. Yet their owners often report the same warm feelings of companionship and stress relief that dog owners do – and studies are increasingly backing these reports up. Researchers in Japan, for example, reported in 2021 that brief petting sessions with their cats boosted oxytocin levels in many owners.

In that study, women interacted with their cats for a few minutes while scientists measured the owners’ hormone levels. The results suggested that friendly contact (stroking the cat, talking in a gentle tone) was linked to elevated oxytocin in the humans’ saliva, compared with a quiet resting period without their cat.

Many people find petting a purring cat is soothing, and research indicates it’s not just because of the soft fur. The act of petting and even the sound of purring can trigger oxytocin release in our brains. One 2002 study found this oxytocin rush from gentle cat contact helps lower cortisol (our stress hormone), which in turn can reduce blood pressure and even pain.

When is oxytocin released between cats and humans?

Research is pinpointing specific moments that cause the release of this hormone in our cross-species friendship. Gentle physical contact seems to be a prime trigger for cats.

A February 2025 study found that when owners engaged in relaxed petting, cuddling or cradling of their cats, the owners’ oxytocin tended to rise, and so did the cats’ – if the interaction was not forced on the animal.

The researchers monitored oxytocin in cats during 15 minutes of play and cuddling at home with their owner. Securely attached cats who initiated contact such as lap-sitting or nudging showed an oxytocin surge. The more time they spent close to their humans, the greater the boost.

What about less-cuddly felines? The same study noted different patterns in cats with more anxious or aloof attachment styles. Avoidant cats (those who kept their distance) showed no significant oxytocin change, while cats who were anxious (constantly seeking their owner but easily overwhelmed by handling) had high oxytocin to begin with.

Oxytocin of avoidant and anxious cats was found to drop after a forced cuddle. When interactions respect the cat’s comfort, the oxytocin flows – but when a cat feels cornered, the bonding hormone is elusive.

Maybe humans could learn something from their feline friends on managing attachment styles. The key to bonding with a cat is understanding how they communicate.

Unlike dogs, cats don’t rely on prolonged eye contact to bond. Instead, they use more understated signals. The most well known is the slow blink. It’s a feline smile, signalling safety and trust.

Purring also plays a role in bonding with people. The low-frequency rumble of a cat’s purr has been linked not only to healing in cats themselves, but also to calming effects in humans. Listening to purring can lower heart rate and blood pressure; oxytocin mediates these benefits.

The companionship of a cat, reinforced by all those little oxytocin boosts from daily interactions, can serve as a buffer against anxiety and depression – in some cases providing comfort on par with human social support.

Read more:
Is your cat vocal or quiet? The explanation could be in their genes

Are cats just less loving than dogs?

It’s true that studies generally find stronger oxytocin responses in dog–human interactions. In one widely discussed 2016 experiment, scientists measured oxytocin in pets and owners before and after ten minutes of play. Dogs showed an average 57% spike in oxytocin levels after playtime, whereas cats showed about a 12% increase.

In humans, oxytocin levels rise during meaningful social interactions. Studies show that contact with a loved one produces stronger oxytocin responses than contact with strangers. So, a happy dog greeting is akin to that rush of seeing your child or partner.

Dogs, being pack animals domesticated for constant human companionship, are almost hard-wired to seek eye contact, petting and approval from us – behaviour that stimulates oxytocin release in both parties. Cats, however, evolved from more solitary hunters which didn’t need overt social gestures to survive. So, they may not display oxytocin-fueled behaviour as readily or consistently. Instead, cats may reserve their oxytocin-releasing behaviour for when they truly feel safe.

A cat’s trust isn’t automatic; it must be earned. But once given, it is reinforced by the same chemical that bonds human parents, partners and friends.

So, next time your cat blinks slowly from across the sofa or climbs on to your lap for a purr-filled cuddle, know that something invisible is happening too: oxytocin is rising in both your brains, deepening the trust and soothing the stress of daily life. Cats, in their own way, have tapped into the ancient biology of love.

Laura Elin Pigott 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. What owning a cat does to your brain (and theirs) – https://theconversation.com/what-owning-a-cat-does-to-your-brain-and-theirs-264396

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Kate McNicholas Smith, Senior Lecturer in Screen, University of Westminster

This piece contains spoilers for On Swift Horses

On Swift Horses, directed by Daniel Minahan and adapted from the novel by Shannon Pufahl, is a romantic drama set in the US in the 1950s – an era familiar from classic Hollywood cinema and countless nostalgic films and TV series. Daisy Edgar-Jones plays Muriel, who is quickly (if somewhat reluctantly) engaged to be married to Lee (Will Poulter) – a working-class man with aspirations to the American dream. The arrival of Lee’s brother Julius (Jacob Elordi), however, reveals cracks in the young couple’s seemingly perfect relationship.

That this is a queer film is not immediately obvious from its publicity. In fact, promotional materials might lead audiences to assume that Muriel and Julius embark upon an affair.

While the pair are drawn to one another, the connection between them is more complex. Muriel is struggling with the gendered expectations of the era and, as the film will go on to explore, both characters are queer.

Upon moving to California with Lee, Muriel meets two queer women who will open up new possibilities. The first is the glamorous Gail (portrayed by queer, non-binary artist Kat Cunning), who kisses Muriel and leads her to a local gay bar. The second is Sandra (Sasha Calle), her Latinx, visibly queer coded neighbour.

Both meetings showcase the lingering looks and subtle flirtations of queer romance – codes forged out of necessity and often used, or interpreted, as queer subtext. In On Swift Horses, however, queerness takes centre stage as Muriel and Sandra begin an affair.

Meanwhile, Julius abandons plans to join Lee and Muriel in suburban California in favour of a wilder, freer life in Vegas. It’s in the desert city where, finding work in a casino, he meets and falls in love with Henry (played by Mexican actor Diego Calva).

In both romances, the iconography of 1950s Americana are reimagined, making visible, to an extent, the very real queer subcultures of the era. For example, in the gay bar that Gail leads Muriel to, the lesbian party Muriel stumbles upon at Sandra’s house, and the secret haunts of gay men. In these scenes, the hidden but vibrant worlds of 1950s queer people are represented.

This was, after all, the era of butches (masculine-presenting lesbians), studs (Black masculine-presenting lesbians) and femmes (feminine-presenting lesbians) – these were identities that emerged in queer women’s bar communities that resisted the heteronormativity of the era. It encompassed clothing, roles and relationships. It also saw the rise of the homophile movement, which was early LGBTQ+ activism that challenged social stigmas and sought acceptance, albeit on limited terms.

Both secretive subcultures and social movements were necessary as this was a period of significant legal and social repression, with the government viscously targeting communists and those deemed “deviants”. Included in this was the Lavender Scare where queer people were targeted. The film portrays this too, with police raids and violent attacks always on the periphery of queer lives. As Gail warns Muriel, “We’re all just a hair’s breadth from losing everything.”

This poignant line has contemporary resonances. As Calle notes in an interview: “…even though the movie is based in the 50s, everything that happened – the oppression that was happening at that time – is so relevant today.”

The film is enjoyable and the ending hopeful. However, I ultimately found it unsatisfying as the characters and narrative never really go deep enough. While Sandra insists to Muriel that she is a real person, the film doesn’t really give her much room to be one – her life and story remain unknown, her function is largely to facilitate Muriel’s journey (a familiar trope). Similarly, while Henry does point out that, as a Mexican queer man, things are different for him than they are for Julius, the queer Latinx characters remain secondary and the racialised context of the period is never fully explored.

Interestingly, director Daniel Minahan is best known for television – having directed hit series such as Six Feet Under, True Blood, Game of Thrones and Fellow Travellers (a series that also depicts closeted queer lives in the 50s). As the critic Mike McCahill notes in The Guardian, On Swift Horses might similarly have worked better as a television series. In this format, the more expansive possibilities of a TV show would have offered more space to flesh out the characters and their trajectories.

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Kate McNicholas Smith 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. On Swift Horses: a film that fails to go deep enough on the complex queer lives of people in the 50s – https://theconversation.com/on-swift-horses-a-film-that-fails-to-go-deep-enough-on-the-complex-queer-lives-of-people-in-the-50s-265119

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Trevor Treharne, Doctoral Researcher, Nuffield Department of Primary Care Health Sciences, University of Oxford

Each day, we’re confronted with headlines about death: millions lost to disease, disasters, overwork or unhealthy lifestyles. But much of this reporting doesn’t reflect reality – and it may be doing more harm than good.

Journalism is meant to help the public make sense of health risks. But the way media outlets report death often distorts our understanding of what’s actually killing people. Dramatic causes like terrorism, pandemics and natural disasters receive disproportionate attention, while chronic illnesses such as heart disease, kidney disease and stroke – the world’s biggest killers are underreported or ignored.

This matters. Public perceptions of risk shape everything from government health spending and research priorities to individual behaviour and policy responses.

A large body of research suggests that people consistently overestimate the risk of rare or sensational causes of death and underestimate common ones. A 2014 study found that people were far more likely to think of deaths from suicide, homicide, or air crashes than from stroke, diabetes or chronic respiratory disease — even though the latter are far more common.

These misperceptions closely mirror media coverage. A comparative content analysis of UK, US and Australian newspapers found that cancer, aviation accidents and violent crime were disproportionately represented, while leading causes of death like heart disease received relatively little attention.

Pandemics tend to dominate headlines, especially when early estimates or modelling studies are reported without context. One example is the widely shared claim that overwork causes 2.8 million deaths a year. The original report from the World Health Organization and International Labour Organization put the figure closer to 745,000 – a significant number, but one that became inflated as it was repeated across headlines and outlets.

Meanwhile, major killers such as kidney disease, lower respiratory infections, and hepatitis C barely register in news cycles.

This gap between coverage and reality – known as the perception gap – shapes how people think, feel and act. Research shows the public tends to panic over rare events while ignoring everyday risks. For instance, someone might worry about dying in a plane crash (an exceedingly rare event), while overlooking high blood pressure — which contributes to more than 8.5 million deaths each year.

Why the media gets death wrong

Journalists often focus on stories with novelty, controversy or emotional impact. Cancer and heart disease are common, but overwork or climate-related deaths feel more urgent or politically relevant. New research or modelling studies also tend to get picked up quickly, especially when they come with a striking number or bold claim.

Reporters frequently rely on press releases and preprints, which may present tentative findings as hard facts. Mortality statistics are also often shared without context. For example, an article might claim “high blood pressure causes 10 million deaths a year” – without explaining that this figure includes associated risks and overlaps with other conditions.

Another issue is how deaths are categorised. Especially among older adults, a single death may involve multiple conditions like diabetes, cardiovascular disease and respiratory illness. Media reports rarely account for these comorbidities, which means the same death might be counted under several causes across different articles further inflating the apparent death toll.

The result isn’t usually intentional misinformation – but the impact can still be deeply misleading.

What responsible reporting looks like

To improve public understanding and avoid unnecessary alarm, media outlets should adopt three core principles:

1. Provide context

Always relate a figure to the global picture. For instance, around 295,000 people drown each year – a tragic number, but just 0.5% of global deaths. Without this kind of framing, it’s easy for even modest risks to feel overwhelming.

2. Clarify cause v correlation

There’s a critical difference between saying “X causes Y” and “X is associated with Y.” For example, ice cream sales and sunburns tend to rise together – not because one causes the other, but because both are linked to summer weather. Precision in language matters: unless a direct causal link has been firmly established, it’s more accurate to describe a risk as “associated with” a particular outcome.

3. Avoid sensationalism

In a crowded news landscape, it’s tempting to chase clicks – but public trust relies on accuracy. Exaggeration undermines credibility, especially in health journalism.

What readers can do

It’s not just journalists who shape the narrative – readers do too. When you see a health statistic:

• ask whether it comes from a reputable source like the WHO, UN, or IHME

• check whether the figure is put in context or presented in isolation

• look for signs of double-counting, exaggeration or causal overreach

• be cautious with headlines that include words like “explosion,” “soar” or “epidemic” without numbers to back them up.

Death is a serious subject but our understanding of it shouldn’t be shaped by exaggeration. With better reporting and more critical reading, we can build a clearer picture of global health and respond to real risks, not just frightening headlines.

Trevor Treharne receives funding from the Oxford-McCall MacBain Graduate Scholarship.

Carl Heneghan holds grant funding from the NIHR and previously from the WHO for a series of ongoing Living rapid reviews on the modes of transmission of SARs-CoV-2 reference WHO registration 2020/1077093. He is an advisor to Collateral Global, the Sir James Mackenzie Institute for Early Diagnosis at St Andrew’s University, and the WHO’s International Clinical Trials Registry Platform (ICTRP). He is a member of the Board of Preventing Overdiagnosis. He is also the co-director of the Global Centre for Healthcare and Urbanisation and a Board member of the Speed Trust.

– ref. What the media gets wrong about death – and how to fix it – https://theconversation.com/what-the-media-gets-wrong-about-death-and-how-to-fix-it-256830

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Dominic Bryan, Chair professor, Queen’s University Belfast

Flags – particularly the union flag and the St George’s Cross – continue to appear in towns and cities in England, at times in response to the housing of migrants and asylum seekers in the local area.

Groups such as Operation Raise the Colours, the Weoley Warriors, Flag Force UK, and the Wythall Flaggers have claimed responsibility for putting the flags up. In many places the flags seem to be in place for the foreseeable future. In Brighton and Hove the local council began to remove flags, only to be forced to leave some up when the contractors sent to take them down were abused.

Displays of flags on street furniture and buildings, such as pubs, are not unusual. But while they are common around the celebration of royal events and major sporting occasions, it is more exceptional to see them put up in reference to political issues. This appears more coercive as an action. There is a sense of territory being marked.

We’ve heard predictable claims that the flags are just a display of pride in a British or English identity. This is an easy claim to make as it clearly is, in part, to do with nationalistic pride. The point is that they are being hung in particular places, by particular groups of people and in a particular way that clearly links them to the ongoing debates and hostility to migration.

As any anthropologist would tell you, symbols are multi-vocal. They offer a range of meanings that depend on who is using them and the context in which they are being used. If the symbols are being used to send a message, the intended recipient of that message adds another layer of meaning.

The use of flags, in what political scientist Marc Howard Ross calls the symbolic landscape, carries significant cultural value – or what sociologist Pierre Bourdieu would have termed symbolic capital. They are displays of patriotism that are common in different forms, in nations around the world. They are used by nation states in rituals and public spaces, by the elite, by politicians and by companies selling their products. They’re waved at sports events and displayed as part of everyday, banal, practices. They are the stock and trade of how the nation is imagined and performed.

Anthropologists Thomas Hylland Eriksen and Richard Jenkins’s book Flag, Nation, Symbolism in Europe and America shows that the use of flags can vary quite widely. In Denmark, the national flag adorns birthday cakes. In Canada it is the essential addition to any large cottage around the lakes of Ontario. And in the US, one of the most flag obsessed countries, it is flown at sporting events big and small.

Flags in Northern Ireland

Generally the British are seen as being more reserved in their use of the Union flag, in part because of its complex relationship with Englishness, Irishness, Scottishness and Welshness. But in Northern Ireland, flags fly from lamp-posts nearly all year around. Union flags, the Ulster Banner (the former flag for the Northern Ireland government), and Scottish Saltires often fly alongside the paramilitary flags of the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) and the Ulster Defence Association (UDA).

Many of these are put up in the summer and, while some are taken down in September, others remain through winter, becoming tatty as the weather turns colder and wetter, and ultimately being replaced in the spring. Flags have long been put up to commemorate the Battle of the Boyne on July 12, but the commemorative season now includes the Battle of the Somme (July 1), local band parades in June and goes through to Ulster Day (September 28) and Remembrance Sunday in November.

Flags are put up predominantly by groups of men in working-class areas. The expansion of the practice seemed to date from around 2000 when a feud between the UVF and UDA flared up and each group used flags to demarcate the areas they controlled. This was predicated on the available of cheap, mass-produced nylon flags imported from Asia.

Irish Tricolours fly in Irish nationalist areas, but not with the same density or frequency. They, too, are sometimes used as signs of demarcation between different Republican groups. The Tricolour has also recently been put up on lamp-posts in Dublin by rightwing groups.

In Northern Ireland the practice has many detractors. Some feel the flag is being disrespected (particularly as the flags quickly become tatty and dirty) while others see their presence as part of a practice of coercive control by paramilitary groups. Others long for more shared public space without these symbols and some fear their presence might reduce the value of houses in the area.

There is in fact clear legislation in Northern Ireland making it unlawful for a flag to be affixed to a lamp-post. However the Department of Infrastructure, which has authority over the lamp-posts, steadfastly refuses to remove the majority of the thousands of flags. Despite the coercive control invoked and the displays of flags by organisations proscribed under terrorism laws, the Police Service of Northern Ireland (PSNI) rarely intervenes.

A five-year, all-party Commission on Flags, Identity, Culture and Tradition (of which I was co-chair), published a report in 2021 concluding that “citizens do not have lawful authority to put up any flag on lamp posts or road signs” and calling for better coordination on the issue that should include local councils. But no new policies have developed.

Despite a dozen research and policy reports over more than two decades (including at least six with me as one of the authors) funded by British research organisations, the Northern Ireland government the Irish government and charities, the numbers of flags on lamp-posts remains in the tens of thousands.

Authorities find it difficult to decide how to handle flags in part because “policing” the use of the national flag looks unpatriotic. Nationalism and patriotism are so embedded within the discourses of nearly all of the major political parties that it’s impossible for politicians to tell the general public that they aren’t allowed to wrap themselves in the same symbols.

And so even if it is obvious the symbols are used as leverage in a racist or sectarian act of territory marking, those with authority are loathed to do anything about it.

Short of the legitimacy of “tradition” that is so powerful in Northern Ireland, the practice in England, Scotland, Wales or the rest of Ireland, might fade away. Or it might become embedded in a world of increased chauvinistic and xenophobic nationalism.

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This article contains references to books that have been included for editorial reasons, and this may include 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.

Dominic Bryan receives funding from the ESRC and I have received funding from the AHRC, the Government of Northern Ireland and the Irish Government in the past.

I am a member of the Green Party.

– ref. I’ve researched the politics of flags in Northern Ireland for decades – here’s what England needs to understand – https://theconversation.com/ive-researched-the-politics-of-flags-in-northern-ireland-for-decades-heres-what-england-needs-to-understand-264203

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Carolina Machado Oliveira, Filmmaker, Senior Lecturer in Factual, Bournemouth University

Deep in the Amazon, sound designer Eric Terena has been capturing the sounds of the rainforest while sitting silently beneath the dense, towering treetops with his recording equipment. He has noticed some huge changes.

“What the environment once spoke, what biodiversity once sang, has shifted to sounds from industrial projects that have arrived in our territories,” said Terena, co-founder of Mídia Indígena, a Brazilian media and communications network which promotes and preserves Indigenous cultures.

His words describe more than a change in sound – they show how nature is gradually being replaced by machines. Ancestral songs have been drowned out by industrial noise. Terena shares these changes using digital tools to bring local stories to global audiences, turning lived experience into climate knowledge.

In our research with Indigenous communities in the Brazilian Amazon, we examine how film and other media technologies, from smartphones to social platforms, are being used to document environmental change, defend land rights and influence climate debates. Together with Indigenous leaders and the Intercultural Faculty in Mato Grosso, Brazil, we explore how “educommunication” – which combines media education with active community participation – can build the technical skills and political capacity that young communicators need to tell their stories to different audiences, from local villagers to global leaders.

As Cop30, the UN climate summit, comes to Brazil this November, our research shows how these digital tools are enabling Indigenous voices to help reshape global understanding of the climate crisis – ensuring their perspectives are present not only in cultural storytelling, but in international environmental decision-making.

A pivotal shift

This shift didn’t happen overnight. It began with a few voices that grew into a movement. Terena co-founded Mídia Indígena in 2017 at the Free Land Camp, a yearly Indigenous rights gathering in Brasília. Alongside him, a group of young Guajajara leaders (Indigenous peoples from Maranhão, Brazil) launched the platform, training 128 young Indigenous people how to report, record and share their stories. Mídia Indígena has grown quickly – its videos now receive more than 10 million views each year.

At the heart of this work is a powerful idea: “Nothing about us, without us.” Indigenous people can now tell their own stories without relying on outsiders to speak for them. They decide what to film, how to tell a story, and who sees it.

The impact of this shift became clear during the Yanomami humanitarian crisis in early 2023. The Yanomami, one of the largest Indigenous groups in the Amazon, live across northern Brazil and southern Venezuela in territories deeply affected by illegal gold mining. That year, reports emerged of severe malnutrition, child deaths and mercury poisoning caused by mining operations contaminating rivers and destroying forest ecosystems.

Because Mídia Indígena’s reporters were already present in the territory, they were the first to document and publish evidence of the crisis. Their coverage not only exposed the immediate health emergency but also linked it to broader issues of environmental destruction and climate change. National and international outlets eventually followed with their own reports – but only after Indigenous journalists had already broken the story.

This was more than journalism; it was lived truth, rooted in a deep knowledge of the land. Mídia Indígena’s reporting had an authenticity that no outsider could match.

And they are not alone. Young communicators from Xingu+, a network from the Xingu River basin and surrounding Indigenous territories in Brazil, created a powerful video called Fire is burning the eyes of Xingu, showing illegal fires destroying parts of the Amazon. Their video caught the attention of the US Agency for International Development and the EU, emphasising how local stories can prompt global awareness.

Films by the Ijã Mytyli Manoki and Myki Cinema Collective, founded in 2020 by two neighbouring Indigenous peoples of Mato Grosso, show how traditional knowledge and rituals are being praised in Europe, even if they’re less known in Brazil. As filmmaker Renan Kisedjê said in the short film Our Grandparents Hunted Here, “we are digital warriors”. Where once bows and arrows defended the land, today cameras and smartphones continue the fight for land, rights and justice.

Challenging outdated ideas

Collectives such as Mídia Guarani are another part of this digital resistance. Their videos challenge outdated ideas about Indigenous life and show how deeply these communities are connected to both nature and technology.

But this storytelling is not only about identity – it’s about survival. These creators shine a light on urgent threat such as Brazil’s “devastation bill”, which seeks to weaken environmental safeguards by expanding environmental self-licensing and eroding protections for traditional territories. Such measures open the door to unchecked pollution and land grabs.

By reporting on dangers like this, Indigenous communicators seek to hold governments and corporations to account. Their stories do more than inform – they generate public pressure and demand change.

This shift matters internationally too. The UK has pledged £11.6 billion in climate finance between 2021 and 2026, including £3 billion for nature restoration and £1.5 billion for forests. Yet the Independent Commission for Aid Impact, an organisation that scrutinises UK aid spending, warns that changes in accounting may have “moved the goalposts”, inflating apparent spending without ensuring impact on the ground.

Much of this funding has traditionally flowed through large international charities and foundations, such as the Rainforest Foundation UK and the International Institute for Environment and Development, which work with Indigenous communities on mapping, monitoring, advocacy and sustainable policy.

Increasingly, however, Indigenous communities are speaking directly to funding donors and shaping allocations. This shift matters because they collectively manage vast areas of land critical to conservation. While many governments invest in expensive climate technologies, these communities have long protected ecosystems through practices proven over generations.

For the first time in the history of UN climate summits, large numbers of South American Indigenous people will attend Cop30 in November – both in person and online. For a long time, they’ve been building networks to fill the gap left by mainstream media. Now, these once silenced voices are loud, clear and deeply informed.

In late August, a hundred Indigenous reporters gathered in Belém for the 1st National Meeting of Indigenous Communication. Under the motto “Indigenous communication is resistance, territory and future”, they strengthened their networks and prepared collectively for COP30.

As the world’s most experienced environmental defenders gain more power in climate talks, their stories, and the way they tell them, will help shape the decisions that affect us all.

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

– ref. The digital movement that enables Indigenous people to show for themselves how the Amazon region is changing – https://theconversation.com/the-digital-movement-that-enables-indigenous-people-to-show-for-themselves-how-the-amazon-region-is-changing-261616