Source: The Conversation – UK – By Sara Mehryar, Research Fellow in climate change adaptation and resilience, London School of Economics and Political Science
Extreme heat in the UK is no longer a distant or seasonal issue. It’s a growing national risk.
When the UK hit over 40°C in 2022, nearly 3,000 excess deaths (deaths surplus to what’s normally expected for that time of year) were recorded in England alone. Train lines buckled, hospitals overheated and fire services were overwhelmed.
Globally, extreme heat is one of the deadliest climate hazards, causing an estimated 489,000 deaths annually. But these death are preventable.
Our recent study in the journal Earth’s Futureand otherreports on the subject say the same thing: that the UK is not ready for a future of extreme heat. The UK’s efforts still focus largely on immediate health consequences, rather than the risks that unfold more widely on education, supply chain, infrastructure and the economy.
Our analysis of the 2022 heatwave reveals a web of cascading effects: wildfires, power failures, water shortages, overwhelmed emergency services and serious disruption to transport. For example, Network Rail, the state-owned company responsible for Britain’s railway tracks and stations, spent £51 million on compensation due to heat-related disruptions between 2016 and 2021.
Consequences extend globally. The humanitarian aid charity Unicef reported that in 2024, 242 million students were affected by heat-related school closures, and US$863 billion (£643 billion) in workforce income losses were recorded in 2022 due to reduced productivity.
Here are five key actions the UK should prioritise:
1. Retrofit buildings to handle heat
UK homes are built to retain heat, a dangerous liability during hotter summers. Right now, more than half of homes in the UK can get uncomfortably hot during heatwaves. If the planet warms by about 2°C on average (a level many scientists warn could be reached this century), that number could jump to nine out of every ten homes.
Existing buildings, many of which are among the oldest in Europe, are not covered by current overheating regulations. A national retrofit strategy urgently needs to include passive cooling, such as ventilation, shading and reflective materials that improve buildings in energy-efficient ways as standard.
Other countries are already taking proactive steps. In Barcelona, for example, public schools are being converted into “climate shelters” with fans, shade, and water access so they can protect people during extreme heat. The UK could adopt similar measures – turning schools, libraries and community centres into safe, cool spaces to help residents cope with increasingly severe heatwaves.
Heat warnings alone won’t change behaviour. Many people remain unaware that heat can be fatal, especially for the most vulnerable, such as children, older people and people with chronic illnesses. Public messaging must be practical and timely, with advice tailored to specific contexts (such as care homes, schools or outdoor workplaces). Advice also needs to encourage people to make healthier choices, while ensuring that better options are affordable and accessible to everyone.
One example comes from Ahmedabad, India, where heat-related deaths have dropped sharply since its Heat Action Plan began. The programme works because it targets vulnerable groups, trains health workers, provides shade and water for outdoor labourers and schoolchildren, and warns residents before dangerous heat hits. A simple “heat rating” in forecasts, backed by text alerts and local media, helps people take timely action.
Our work with Shade the UK, an NGO dedicated to adapting the UK’s built environment and public spaces to climate change, and Love Design Studio, a sustainability consultancy, shows that implementing a simple heat metric (similar to existing energy performance certificates) could empower residents and property owners to act. The metric would show the level of heat risk in a property and outline practical measures to make it cooler.
3. Focus on the most vulnerable
Heat effects are uneven. In 2022, central London boroughs such as Hackney, Tower Hamlets and Islington faced notably higher heat exposure (consistent with urban heat island effects that can elevate temperatures by 5–6°C compared to less dense areas) driven by their high building density and limited green space. Vulnerable populations, including older adults and low-income residents, face a higher risk but have fewer resources to cope.
By mapping vulnerability hotspots (creating maps that show where heat risk and social vulnerability overlap), authorities and volunteer groups can more easily deliver targeted local responses, such as providing access to cool spaces and carrying out welfare checks for vulnerable people during heatwaves.
London has already begun producing such heat risk and vulnerability maps. Some boroughs (such as Tower Hamlets) have acted on them, for example, by identifying schools and homes at greatest risk, but these maps need to become consistent, regularly updated and directly tied to local response plans.
One of the clearest findings from our latest research is that no single agency had a full view of the risks during the 2022 heatwave. Emergency responders focused on immediate incidents, while local authorities and national agencies operated in parallel, not in partnership.
Insights from our policy roundtable, held in London on February 11 with senior representatives from government, public health, climate and environment bodies, academia and non-governmental organisations, highlight the urgent need for a cross-sectoral national heat risk commission. This can ensure planning takes all aspects of heat risk into account and goes beyond typical priorities for health, transport and buildings.
London’s Operation Helios, a multi-agency heatwave simulation exercise held in June 2024, brought together 80 participants across multiple sectors, including emergency services, local authorities and health agencies, to test their preparedness for a severe heat episode. This one-off coordinated event must be repeated regularly.
Addressing heat risk must include reducing greenhouse gas emissions. Relying on energy-intensive solutions like mechanical air conditioning can worsen the problem by increasing emissions and contributing to local warming.
Taking early, proactive action opens up a wider range of low-emission measures, from raising awareness of simple behaviours to designing cooler, greener cities with low-carbon infrastructure. This includes more trees, shaded areas, cooling centres and water features such as fountains.
Resilience is possible. But it demands planning ahead, protecting the most vulnerable, and turning policy into action – before the next heatwave hits.
Don’t have time to read about climate change as much as you’d like?
Sara Mehryar receives funding from Z Zurich Foundation, Switzerland.
Anna Beswick receives funding from the Z Zurich Foundation, Switzerland.
Candice Howarth receives funding from the Economics and Social Research Council, British Academy, Natural Environment Research Council, EU Horizon 2020.
Source: The Conversation – UK – By Mehri Khosravi, Energy and Carbon Senior Research Fellow, University of East London
With heatwaves becoming hotter and more frequent, demand for air conditioning is expected to rise significantly. However, if the UK and similar countries respond to hotter summers simply by installing more AC, they risk creating a costly, energy-hungry and more unequal future. But there’s a cooler, smarter way forward.
Colleagues and I have surveyed more than 1,600 households across the UK and found that two-thirds used fans in the summer of 2022, and one in five used air conditioning. The vast majority of those AC units were bought during or after that year’s 40°C heatwave – showing how quickly habits can shift.
In our our survey, 80% of UK homes reported overheating in summer 2022, four times more than a decade ago. By the end of this century, the temperature in the UK is predicted to exceed 40°C every few years. It’s no wonder that same survey found a sevenfold increase in air conditioning in the decade prior to 2022.
Relying heavily on AC might seem like a natural adaptation, but it comes with hidden costs. Cooling requires huge amounts of energy at the exact moments when demand is already high. In 2022 and 2023, the UK had to briefly restart a coal power plant to keep the lights – and the air conditioners – on.
AC also deepens inequalities. For wealthier households, it’s a quick fix. But for others, especially lower socioeconomic groups, it’s a dangerous gap in protection.
Passive cooling first
We already have a template for tackling winter energy demand – “insulation first”. That’s because it’s a lot harder to warm a house than it is to stop heat escaping in the first place.
A similar principle applies in summer – “reduce cooling demand first”.
Hot climate countries like those in southern Europe have had lots of practice and we can learn from them. That means starting with passive cooling measures that reduce the need for mechanical cooling in the first place. These measures include:
shading and shutters to block sunlight before it enters a building
natural ventilation to let heat escape in cooler hours
reflective and light-coloured surfaces to deflect solar radiation
buildings orientated to minimise heat gain
trees and green infrastructure to cool neighbourhoods.
White buildings reflect the sun’s heat to keep cool. Noradoa / shutterstock
Many of these are low-cost, quick to install and long-lasting. In Rome, for example, window shutters are so common you barely notice them, yet they dramatically reduce the need for mechanical cooling.
Once demand is lowered, remaining needs can be met by ACs or reversible heat pumps.
Public behaviour matters too
Adapting our building design is not enough. We must adapt our behaviour too.
In Spain, the hottest hours are for siestas. Outdoor activities are paused, and people are more active in the mornings and evenings. Culturally, they understand that keeping curtains closed during the day and opening windows at night can prevent homes from overheating.
In the UK, heat is still culturally framed as “good weather”. Sunny weekends trigger beach trips, barbecues and more outdoor activity, even when it’s dangerously hot. This mismatch between perception and risk is a major public health challenge.
Good weather, or dangerous weather? Southend-on-Sea in the 2022 heatwave. Paan Lily / shutterstock
Even as the climate warms, UK energy policy is still designed for winter, not summer. Energy efficiency programmes often overlook the risk of trapping summer heat inside well-insulated homes. The UK needs to embed overheating risk into housing policy, and needs a clear plan to decarbonise cooling alongside heating.
Public risk communication must also catch up. Early warning systems such as red, amber and yellow warnings are great start, but they’re not enough in a country where many people still see 30°C as perfect picnic weather. We need targeted campaigns to shift mindsets and encourage proactive action before the heat arrives.
The 40°C day in 2022 was a wake-up call. We can answer it with more AC – and more bills, emissions and inequality – or we can redesign our buildings, streets and routines to work with the climate not against it.
AC will still have a role during extreme heat, but it should be the last resort, not the first instinct. Reduce cooling demand first, meet the rest efficiently – and Britain can stay cool without overheating the planet.
Mehri Khosravi Mehri Khosravi works at the University of East London. She received funding from the British Academy. She is affiliated with the University of East London’s Sustainability Research Institute.
‘Ridiculous costs’: Andy Pearce on his farm in the Fens of eastern England.Photograph by Rebecca Pearce, CC BY-NC-ND
The Pearces have been farming the Fens of eastern England for generations – a region where more than a third of the country’s vegetables are grown, packed and processed. Andy and Rebecca Pearce lease a small family farm in south Lincolnshire with Andy’s parents and brother, on which they grow potatoes, wheat, pulses and sugar beet. They grew peas too until this year, when the unpredictable weather no longer made them viable.
Visiting their farm on a fine summer day, the landscape feels idyllic – a largely flat landscape of big skies and black soil, epic fields and waterways. As he drives around in his tractor, Andy keeps a diary of all the wildlife he sees: starlings, sparrows, badgers and buzzards, kestrels, wagtails, hares and deer. It’s a job he and Rebecca talk about with passion and love – yet he says that sense of vocation is clouded with ever-increasing money worries:
Look at the price of grain now: £180 a tonne – it was probably that in the mid-1990s … I can’t think of any other industry that is working on the same price as they were 30 years ago for produce. Yet the inputs have gone up astronomically.
In 2021-22 (the latest government statistics), the average farm household income in England was just £22,200. A 2025 report by the Food, Farming and Countryside Commission found that UK farmers’ incomes have remained stagnant over the past half-century, while costs have recently escalated, as Pearce explains:
In our case, rent is obviously one of the biggest outlays. Chemicals, fertilisers, tractors – you name it, everything has gone up astronomically … The ridiculous costs of machinery, the things you’ve got to do, the amount of red tape you’ve got to fill in, are all going one way.
He warns that farming is becoming an “impossible dream” for people like them – and that this is reflected in the reluctance of young people to get involved. He says it’s “almost impossible for somebody to come in now and start farming without some sort of backing”, explaining:
The sustainability of farming is getting less and less all the time … Unless you’ve got a big enough area to offset all that [expense], then it’s getting very, very difficult now. And that’s not going to change … You’re going to lose your family farms. You’re basically going to be left with agribusinesses at the end of the day.
Over the past three years, we have spent a lot of time in the Fens getting to know farmers like the Pearces. Our intention was to go beyond the polarised headlines to understand how farmers really feel, and what they want from government policy. For one of us (Dan), this forms part of Fen Power, a research project exploring how local infrastructure, identity and connection shapes economic sustainability and political trust in this part of rural England.
A trailer for the Fen Power project.
Despite farmers being highly skilled and hardworking experts who help maintain the UK’s food security and protect its countryside, many told us they feel abandoned by the government and anxious about their future. But delving deeper into the roots of this unhappiness, we found a more nuanced and complex story than is sometimes presented in media reports about the farmers’ protests.
A privilege or a curse?
Peter Lundgren farms the black soils of the Fens further north in Lincolnshire. Now in his sixties, he says farming is a “huge privilege – being able to walk across that field and ask nobody’s permission to do it”.
Lundgren – a non-organic farmer who campaigns against harmful pesticide and GM use – influenced a past Conservative government’s policy shift to link farming more closely with the provision of public goods. This included new subsidies to encourage farmers to protect biodiversity by planting more hedgerows and woodland, rather than focusing entirely on industrial food production.
Lundgren admits he leads a “very, very privileged lifestyle” – and as we walk around his beautiful small estate among dykes and woodland he has painstakingly restored, it’s hard to disagree. Yet now, he is selling up.
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Unlike the Pearces, he has something to sell: Lundgren bought his 93-acre farm 30 years ago when it was rundown and collapsing. Having grown up on a struggling farm which eventually succumbed to debt, he has always sought a mode of farming that’s economically and environmentally sustainable. But now, while fit enough to continue, Lundgren says his passion is no longer there:
This spring, it shook me. I took rusty scrap into the scrap dealers in Lincoln, and I got more money a tonne for scrap metal than I got for my feed wheat … So the bread of life is worth less than rusty metal.
Many small- and medium-sized farmers find themselves under these growing economic pressures. Beyond the immediate crises of increasingly unpredictable weather or government policy, Lundgren says it comes down to the lack of power farmers have in the wider food system, where supermarkets and big suppliers drive down prices. The UK chicken industry, for example, is dominated by a handful of huge companies, so farmers can be forced into a loop of having to invest in big, expensive sheds in order to supply these few companies, as no one else buys chicken at this scale. As Lundgren puts it:
They’ll get a farmer to invest half a million quid in a chicken shed – and then they’ve got that farm exactly where they want them … They know they’ve got you under the thumb, and you now are a slave to [these companies].
Most farmers have a powerful sense of vocation in stewarding their land for future generations. But Lundgren says economic insecurity is putting off many farmers’ children from taking over the business. “One friend farms over in Norfolk … Both his sons have turned around and said: ‘You are bloody joking, dad.’”
Lundgren talks poignantly about the “feeling that you’ve let down past generations … that feeling of failure”. The economic decline he describes (in pints of beer) spans decades, not just recent years:
The first crop of wheat I grew, I got £120 a tonne for it – when I was 18 and beer was 50p a pint. So I got 240 pints for every tonne going off the farm. Last year, I got £65 a tonne and beer has come up to £3. So now, I’m getting 20 pints a tonne.
The problem, as Lundgren sees it, goes much deeper than the government’s recent policies that have sparked such ire in many farmers – most notably, the announcement that farmers would no longer be exempt from paying inheritance tax. From 2026, upon their death, any farm or business assets worth over £1 million could face a 20% inheritance tax over that threshold (with some exceptions). But for Lundgren, these tax changes are just another layer of risk in an already precarious profession. They exacerbate the fundamental problem of being “asset rich, cash poor” that affects so many in agriculture:
One of the worst problems is sometimes you put your hand in your back pocket and haven’t got the price of a pint – even though on paper, you’re worth a shitload of money.
This goes to the heart of occasional social media backlashes to the farmers’ protests. Rebecca Pearce describes the popular stereotype of farmers as rich aristocrats in tweeds, shooting foxes and “raping the countryside” with pesticides and shoddy practices.
There is a grain of truth in this image: around 30% of English land is owned by the aristocracy and landed gentry, and a significant further share is held by wealthy individuals including offshore firms and investment bankers (another 17% of land remains unregistered with the Land Registry, making ownership unclear). In recent decades, wealthy individuals have bought farmland to offset their tax liabilities – a key reason given by Labour for introducing the new inheritance tax rules.
But in practice, many ordinary family farms are being swept up in this new tax regime. According to estimates from the National Farmers Union and the Agriculture and Horticulture Development Board, around 75% of commercial farms – some 42,000 across England and Scotland – will be affected.
Andy Pearce: ‘Chemicals, fertilisers, tractors – you name it, everything has gone up astronomically.’ Photograph by Rebecca Pearce, CC BY-NC-ND
Given that farms are often in some of the most beautiful and sought-after locations for second homes and property developments in the UK, the capital assets (such as land and buildings) of these farms are often highly valuable, even if the farms themselves produce incomes for their owners which are little over the minimum wage.
And while around 60% of British farmers are tenants like the Pearces, who do not own the land they work, many still operate within family-run farm businesses that include owned assets such as machinery, livestock, stored produce or residential buildings. In some cases, these assets alone may push their estates above the £1 million threshold for full relief, or above the £3 million mark where inheritance tax liabilities begin to rise significantly.
TV programmes such as (Jeremy) Clarkson’s Farm have put the everyday struggles of farmers more squarely on the map, and around 55% of the public say they would support farmers if they were to go on strike, in line with support for nurses and paramedics. In April 2025, the UK’s first farmers’ strike broke out, with some farmers refusing to load milling wheat needed for Britain’s bakeries.
While a one-off event, it may not be the last. A recent Ashbridge survey of 2,000 British farmers suggested that 39% of their farms would be “unsustainable” within five years. There are now two options for most farmers to stay afloat: intensify food production, or sell up.
Lundgren has put his farm up for sale.
Small-scale farmers play a key role in protecting the UK countryside and its biodiversity. Photograph by Amy Gibbons, CC BY-NC-ND
Why farming is such a gamble
Farming isn’t just a business, it’s a gamble. Take a tonne of wheat: the seed bought one month ago and put in the ground today will be harvested in up to a year’s time – meaning the farmer only gets paid for it in 18 months.
Now factor in the volatility of prices set by the global market amid the unpredictability of Brexit, COVID and Ukraine – not to mention the weather. In the Fens and many other parts of the UK, 2024’s unusually wet weather flooded and submerged many farmers’ crops.
Then there’s the volatility of government policies, from the long-term EU subsidies of the Common Agricultural Policy that made farming viable in an era of cheap food, to the hotchpotch of environmental policies post-Brexit, which today many farmers find incoherent and poorly implemented. According to Andy Pearce: “It’s a case of giving with one hand, and taking away at least as much with the other.”
There are many risks farmers have little protection from – including the hardball practices of supermarkets engaging in price wars. Farmers in the UK mostly supply supermarkets via suppliers, who have the power to reject and even fine farmers for not supplying to the right standard or quantity. Prices have been squeezed artificially low for decades by suppliers and supermarkets, even while new technologies and government directives have rapidly increased yields.
The only reason most farmers have remained in business is through vast subsidies like the EU’s Common Agricultural Policy, which encouraged high-input (high-fertiliser) farming and rewarded big landowners. But subsidies are double-edged: some farmers think the system allowed supermarkets to get away with paying low prices, because subsidies meant farmers would never face the threat of going out of business.
When introduced in 2021, these policies were generally widely embraced by farmers – all of whom, in our research, fully subscribed to an ethos of sustainability and public service.
But from the outset, conditions for accessing these funds were difficult. They required significant investment of time and money upfront, with payments later. They set conditions which are difficult, arbitrary and onerous. Subsequent rollout and payment delivery was slow. They only provided a financial reward to those who deliver environmental benefits in line with the goals of a 25-year environment plan that works towards achieving net zero by 2050. According to Andy Pearce:
There is absolutely nothing in it for us at all, basically … It is just not economically viable.
In December 2023, the Basic Payment Scheme – a longstanding government subsidy that provided a basic income safety net for active farms – came to an end. It was replaced from January 2024 by delinked payments: time-limited support based on past claims, with lower overall funding and fewer farms eligible.
This was followed in November 2024 by the suspension of several capital grants schemes to new applicants due to high demand. Then, at short notice, in March 2025, the SFI scheme was suddenly suspended to new entrants after reaching its annual budget cap.
Over the past decade, across both Conservative and Labour governments, British farmers have been gradually stripped of most sources of financial support. A turbulent and rapidly changing policy landscape has left few farmers able to adequately financially plan. Meanwhile, the cost of inputs rise, prices remain low, inheritance tax looms, and the work remains grindingly hard. Trust between government and farmers has never been lower. Andy Pearce says:
In the best-case scenario, I’m going to come out evens. If I have a really good harvest, I’m going to be losing money doing this scheme … Basically, we’ve got the worst of both worlds. Now we’re competing against subsidised produce from Europe without the subsidies.
Farmers are questioning the incentives provided for sustainability and environmentalism. Photograph by Amy Gibbons, CC BY-NC-ND
‘There’s got to be a total rethink’
Not everyone involved in farming is a freeholder or tenant. Some, like Martin Reams, work as farm managers for large agribusinesses that produce intensively at scale. They often work long hours on the land with the same passion and vocation as family farmers like the Pearces and Lundgren.
Reams oversees operations on a 2,000-acre farm in Lincolnshire with just two employees. They grow wheat, barley, peas, potatoes, broccoli and cauliflower. Come harvest time, they’ll draw on labour from eastern Europe – many migrant workers have also settled (mostly in the mid-to-late 2000s) and integrated into the local area.
Reams has farmed all his life; from his family’s smallholding to managing farms across the world. No two days are the same and he’s outdoors every day, come rain or shine. Also in his sixties, Reams has lived through a major technological revolution in farming.
Whereas once farms were labour-intensive and managed by hand, tractor and a crude understanding of fertilisers, today farms like his are managed using GPS field scans, smartphones, robotics, fine-tuned computer systems and self-driving tractors. And out in the fields, year after year, Reams says he has witnessed the impacts of climate change at first-hand:
Without a shadow of a doubt, the weather has changed dramatically over the 45 years I’ve actively been working on farms … The big thing I have noticed is the amount of rain we get. It’s either all or nothing. Either very dry or very wet. And that is one of the major driving forces that is really [forcing us to upscale] what we’re doing.
Reams doesn’t own a farm, but like everyone else we spoke with, he’s dismayed by the change in inheritance tax rules, suggesting it will “probably kibosh a lot of the smaller farms”.
Many farmers we spoke to fear that, as more small- and medium-size farmers are driven to sell up to larger agribusinesses and solar farms, the standards of food production will fall, as the UK becomes reliant on cheap overseas producers not bound by the same environmental regulations.
Reams says simply: “We’re not on a level playing field.” When asked about farming’s future, his assessment is blunt:
At the present moment, I would say forget it – it’s doomed. It’s going to be like the coal mines, it’s going to be like the fisheries. There’s got to be a total rethink on food production, how people value food.
These days, the average age of British farmers is 59. It’s similar internationally, and a third of British farmers are over 65 and ought to be enjoying retirement. Most of the farmers we spoke to talked about the barriers for new entrants into farming: high amounts of capital to get started, difficult and long work, with median farm household incomes often below the minimum wage.
In response, some agricultural colleges are doing their best to attract young people to farming, and in recent years there has been a slight increase in the number of students enrolling to study land-based and agricultural degrees around the UK. We met one example of this potential new generation of farmers amid an array of beautiful flowers in the north-east of England.
Roisin Taylor: passionate about the future of horticulture. Photo by Jocelyn Pritchard, CC BY-NC-ND
Regeneration is possible
“Why have I not been doing this my entire life?” Roisin Taylor asks us, having recently established a two-acre flower farming business on a new site near Newcastle (her mother having originally founded the company). She’s not being sarcastic.
Taylor grew up in County Durham, working on farms and dry-stone walling. Like many her age, she took the university route, completing two degrees before coming back into farming and agricultural community engagement. A co-director of UK Youth 4 Nature and Nuffield farming scholar, she researches how the British cut-flower industry should adapt to a world of two-degree warming.
Having not come from a farming family directly, and despite facing the new entrant barriers – notably the difficulties of securing land – Taylor’s story suggests farming can still be a career and lifestyle that attracts young people.
She is passionate about the future of horticulture – in particular, its need to adapt to climate change. She calls for a long-term perspective where “public money for public good” is used to make farming a high-skill, high-conservation catalyst for change. At the same time, she highlights the failures of the current renting model, particularly for small-scale farming:
It’s frightening that somebody might have control over a large portion of my business. It makes it more difficult to invest in the long-term purchases you need to make your businesses sustainable.
While Taylor does not work in food production, flower farming has also been affected by the policy “chaos” that other interviewees have highlighted to us. In 2023 at the time of speaking to Taylor, the previous government’s plan for a new horticulture strategy was abruptly scrapped. Speaking more widely about how farmers were feeling, Taylor told us:
If you don’t feel like you’ve got a voice, of course you’re going to go out and complain because you don’t feel you’ve got agency … The cycle of distrust continues to grow. Motivation is driven by momentum, and we need some wins to prove to farmers, growers and policymakers that change is possible.
Roisin Taylor: ‘The cycle of distrust continues to grow.’ Photo by Jocelyn Pritchard, CC BY-NC-ND
Earlier this year, the National Farmers’ Union published a UK horticulture strategy for growth in which it welcomes the government’s promised “roadmap” for farming in England up to 2050 as “an ambitious vision to make farming and growing more sustainable and profitable”. In her roles both as farmer and advocate, Taylor aims to act as a bridge between farmers, policymakers and environmentalists, and is confident they can find common ground:
Both farmers and environmentalists are trying to move the dial forwards. They’re just trying to both make a living and also see a future where something is better … [But] public perception of farming is steeped in inaccuracies, which does the sector no favours when we are trying to advocate for change.
Nonetheless, Taylor is in it for the long haul. Part of the gamble and privilege of farming, she says, is working to a much longer timeframe – with the need to also consider “building things like climate adaptation into that long-term framework and planning”. But is time running out?
The future of farming
We’re back with Andy and Rebecca Pearce in their cottage. Andy’s mum brings in mugs of tea, followed by his brother popping in to check they’ve got enough oil for the tractor. “It used to be a man with a spanner who’d come out and fix it, now it’s a man with a laptop,” Rebecca quips.
Though the Pearces are tenant farmers, they are mired in the same challenges and uncertainty as many other small and medium-sized farmers we spoke with. Andy tells us that from a smaller farmer’s point of view, “the sustainability of farming is getting less and less all the time”.
As costs for farmers grow and revenues shrink, he says that “unless you’ve got a big enough area to offset that, then it’s getting very, very difficult now. That’s not going to change.” His prognosis is clear:
You’re going to lose your family farms. You’re basically going to be left with agribusinesses at the end of the day.
Andy Pearce: ‘You’re going to lose your family farms.’ Photo by Rebecca Pearce, CC BY-NC-ND
We heard this message time and again from the farmers, farm managers, agronomists (who study the science of soil management and crop production) and rural communities we spoke with.
And yet the demise of family farms is not some natural inevitability, like the melting of glaciers or the mizzley rain in these parts.
Farmers are sometimes criticised for over-extracting from the natural environment to put food on our tables. But they are just one piece of the jigsaw. It isn’t just the soil that’s depleted through overextraction; the people who produce our food and protect our countryside are also being depleted. At its root, Taylor says, is the fact that “we don’t pay what food’s worth”.
Farmers aren’t the only group in society battling the effects of inflation. But they are perhaps uniquely exposed. Unlike many businesses that can simply shift their costs on to customers while maintaining profit, farmers are at the frontline of a complex modern food system in which the price we pay for our food, most often in supermarkets, has been kept low for decades by extensive price squeezing.
But it’s not just farmers who suffer as a result. Lundgren talks about a fundamental “divorce” between farmers and consumers in modern society:
I think my argument about farmers being divorced from consumers, it’s very much around the creation of the food chain. The further we get forced apart is another link in that damn chain so that someone else can get in and make a lot of money.
Reams offers a memorable example of this breakdown in the connection between consumers and their food:
I went to a school not very far from here in rural Lincolnshire, took a sugar beet, and nobody knew what it was. In rural Lincolnshire! They didn’t know what it was.
This disconnect breeds misconceptions and bewilderment on both sides – as Rebecca Pearce expresses over tea in their farmhouse cottage:
I don’t really understand why people hate farmers so much, when everybody eats.
In our plastic-packed, supermarket-fed world, a lot of the public doesn’t understand where food comes from – nor have the time to find out. On the other side, many of the farmers we spoke to think that all the public wants is cheap identical food, with little regard for who makes it and with what means.
Neither is true, as Lundgren explains in characteristically colourful style:
Farmers will come in the pub on a Friday night and say: ‘The public don’t care as long as it’s cheap.’ Which is absolute crap. And the public will say: ‘You never see a farmer on his bike – [instead] driving around in Range Rovers shouting “get off my land!”‘ Which is also crap.
What’s undeniable is that the British food system is under immense strain. Consumers are failing to get access to affordable, nutritious food, and many farmers are struggling to maintain a basic livelihood or pass on their farms to their children. As Rebecca Pearce says:
We’ve got to work together with environmental groups and everybody to try and get farming [better understood]. There has to be a dialogue.
Dan Taylor 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. His broader research project, Fen Power, is funded by the Open University’s Open Societal Challenges scheme (www.tinyurl.com/fen-power).
In 2013, a wave of protests began in Turkey in opposition to the planned demolition of Gezi Park in Istanbul. The protests soon evolved into mass anti-government demonstrations, and a landmark moment in the country’s history of resistance.
At the time, the country’s prime minister publicly insulted demonstrators, calling them çapulcu – a derogatory Turkish word meaning “looters” or “vandals”. Instead of retreating in shame, protesters quickly embraced the label. They wore it proudly on t-shirts, painted it on banners and sang it in chants. “Every day I’m çapuling” became a rallying cry, a meme and a slogan for a movement.
People took a slur meant to discredit them and turned it into a source of unity, defiance and pride. In social psychology, this practice is known as reappropriation, and it can transform how people see themselves and one another. Our research shows that when members of marginalised groups reclaim stigmatising labels, it not only fosters self-worth but can also spark political activism.
In other words, saying “yes, I’m a çapulcu” – or “yes, I’m fat” or “yes, I’m queer” – isn’t just resistance, it can be the start of a political identity.
In our study, published in Political Psychology, we explored how reappropriation works as a psychological and political process. We wanted to know: how does taking ownership of a stigmatised identity shift the way people see themselves and their groups? And how does that influence their willingness to take political action?
In both cases, the labels have long been used to stigmatise, devalue or silence. But reappropriating these words allowed people to reframe their identities, from being seen as a “problem” to becoming part of a proud and politicised group.
The psychology behind reappropriation
We combined in-depth interviews and survey research to understand what drives people to reclaim a stigmatising label, and how this shapes their identity. We interviewed 20 activists in Turkey who participated in the Gezi Park protests, and surveyed 479 fat liberation activists in North America.
Our findings suggest that reappropriation helps reduce the personal sting of the insult. When someone proudly adopts a term meant to shame them, they feel it disarms the insult. It flips the power dynamic: what was meant to hurt now becomes a badge of pride. If you wear the word like armour, it can’t be used to hurt you.
The 2013 Gezi Park protests evolved into nationwide protests in Turkey. Thomas Koch/Shutterstock
It also builds a sense of collective identity. When people publicly embrace a reclaimed label, they signal solidarity with others who share that identity and opposition to the forces that marginalise them. This shift helps move people from private acceptance to public action.
Crucially, we found that this process isn’t about denying the pain of marginalisation – it’s about transforming that pain into purpose. Participants in both movements reported that reclaiming stigmatised labels made them more likely to engage in activism – whether that meant attending protests, speaking out on social media, or supporting campaigns for political change.
Why this matters
Today, reappropriation is happening all around us. We’ve seen it in the embrace of terms like “queer”, “crip”, “fat” and “autistic” – all once used pejoratively, now often reclaimed as proud markers of identity. But despite its visibility, the process remains misunderstood.
Critics sometimes dismiss reappropriation as mere provocation or political correctness. But our research shows it is a deeply meaningful psychological strategy – one that enables people to reclaim power, resist stigma and build collective strength.
In the case of fat liberation, reclaiming “fat” has challenged not only individual shame but the broader societal norms that stigmatise larger bodies. Although it is difficult to claim that fatphobia is declining overall, fat people continue to find spaces and ways to feel empowered, challenging prejudices and, in some social circles, dismantling societal norms about larger bodies.
Of course, not everyone in a marginalised group will agree on whether a label should be reclaimed. For some, the term may carry too much pain. Others may worry that embracing the label reinforces stereotypes. But that tension is part of what makes reappropriation so powerful and so political. It forces a public reckoning with language, power and identity.
In the end, our research offers a simple but profound insight: reclaiming a slur can change more than just language. It can change how people see themselves, how they relate to others, and how they take part in changing the world.
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.
Source: The Conversation – UK – By Stephan Blum, Research associate, Institute for Prehistory and Early History and Medieval Archaeology, University of Tübingen
Sometimes the seeds of collapse are sown in the very soil of prosperity. Beneath the ancient city of Troy’s shining walls, the earth quietly cracked under the weight of its ambition.
When we think of environmental destruction today, images of oil rigs, coal plants or plastic islands come to mind. But long before industry, ancient societies were already pushing their ecosystems to the brink.
One striking example comes from early bronze age Troy – a story of economic brilliance shadowed by lasting ecological cost. It is not merely a tale of innovation and success, but a cautionary one about overreach, exhaustion and the hidden costs of unchecked growth.
Between 2500 and 2300BC, Troy emerged as a centre of power and experimentation in north-western Anatolia (the Asian part of what is now Turkey), centuries before Homer’s Iliad made it legendary. At its peak, the city is estimated to have had a population of 10,000.
Through years of excavation with the University of Tübingen’s Troy Project, I have come to understand how deliberate choices in production, planning and organisation gradually transformed a modest bronze age village into a vibrant community with early urban traits. Troy’s monumental stone buildings, orderly streets and distinct residential quarters reflected a society in transition.
At the heart of this transformation was the rise of mass production. Drawing on Mesopotamian models, the potter’s wheel revolutionised Troy’s ceramics, enabling faster, more uniform and large-scale output. Wheel-thrown pottery soon dominated, marked by deep grooves and simplified finishes that prioritised efficiency over artistry.
Examples of wheel-thrown plates, mass-produced in Troy between 2500 and 2000BC. Institute of Classical Archaeology at the University of Tübingen/Valentin Marquardt, CC BY-SA
As production ramped up, so too did the need for a more structured and specialised workforce. Craftsmanship shifted from homes into workshops and labour became increasingly specialised and segmented. Trade flourished, reaching far beyond the Troad (the broader landscape around Troy) and surpassing the settlement’s local reach.
To manage this growing complexity, people introduced standardised weights and administrative seals – tools of coordination and control in an increasingly commercialised world.
But progress, then as now, came at a cost. The very innovations that fuelled Troy’s ascent unleashed forces that proved increasingly difficult to contain.
Prosperity through extraction
Troy’s wealth was built on relentless extraction. Monumental buildings demanded tons of limestone from nearby quarries. Clay was dredged from once-fertile riverbanks to feed kilns and brick-making. Forests were stripped bare for timber and firewood – the lifeblood of a booming ceramic industry that burned day and night.
Agriculture, too, underwent radical intensification. Earlier generations had rotated crops and rested their fields. Troy’s farmers, by contrast, pursued maximum yields through continuous cultivation. Emmer and einkorn (ancient wheat varieties well-suited to poor soils but low in yield and protein) dominated. They were hardy and easy to store, but nutritionally depleting.
As farmland expanded onto steep, fragile slopes, erosion took hold. Hills once covered in forest became barren, as archaeobotanical evidence confirms.
Livestock added further pressure. Herds of sheep and goats grazed intensively on upland pastures, tearing up vegetation and compacting the soil. The result was reduced water retention, collapsing topsoil and declining biodiversity. Gradually, the ecological equilibrium that had underpinned Troy’s prosperity began to unravel.
By around 2300BC, the system began to fracture. A massive fire ravaged the settlement – perhaps triggered by revolt or conflict. Monumental structures were abandoned, replaced by smaller dwellings and modest farmsteads. The centre of power faltered.
This collapse is likely to have been driven by a combination of factors: political tensions, external threats and social unrest. But the environmental strain is impossible to ignore. Soil exhaustion, deforestation and erosion would have led to water scarcity, resource scarcity and possibly even famine. Each factor eroded the foundations of Troy’s stability.
In the aftermath, adaptation took precedence over ambition. Farmers diversified their crops, moving away from high-yield monoculture towards more varied and resilient strategies. Risk was spread, soil partially recovered and communities began to stabilise.
Troy did not vanish – it adjusted and found a new balance for another millennia. But it did so in the shadow of a crisis it had helped create.
Lessons from a worn landscape
Troy’s story is more than archaeological curiosity – it is a mirror. Like many societies past and present, its economic ambitions outpaced ecological limits. The warning signs were there: falling yields, thinning forests, eroding hillsides. But the illusion of endless growth proved too tempting to resist.
The parallels with today are stark. Resource depletion, short-term gain and environmental neglect remain central features of our global economy. Technologies may have evolved – the mindset, however, has not. We consume, discard, expand and repeat.
But Troy also offers a glimmer of hope: the possibility of adaptation after excess, resilience after rupture. It reminds us that sustainability is not a modern ideal – it is a timeless necessity.
Troy is proof that no society, however ingenious, is immune to the consequences of ecological overreach. The warning signs of imbalance are never absent – they are merely easy to ignore. Whether we choose to heed them is up to us.
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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Stephan Blum 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.
The US president, Donald Trump, signed a secret directive on August 8 authorising the Pentagon to use military force against some Latin American drug cartels. To longtime observers of US foreign policy in the region, his directive only came as a partial surprise.
During his most recent presidential election campaign, Trump proposed bombing Mexico – although, amid the flurry of claims and promises, this extreme posture almost went unnoticed. And Mexican national security analysts have been warning for the past few years that use of US military force against Mexico is becoming increasingly likely.
On his first day back in office, Trump signed an executive order designating cartels and some other criminal groups “foreign terrorist organisations”. For past US administrations, such a designation has often acted as a prelude to – and partial justification for – violence.
Trump’s executive order defined cartels as a “national security threat beyond that posed by traditional organised crime”. This, it added, is due to the cartels’ work with international networks, their complexity and engagement in insurgency and asymmetric warfare, and their “infiltration” of governments in the western hemisphere.
In its report on Trump’s secret directive, the New York Times highlighted how the unilateral use of military force in Latin America would represent a dangerous escalation in the region.
In the past, the US has often presented its use of military force against the cartels as support for law enforcement there. It has also relied on collaboration with local governments and militaries to conduct joint operations.
Brian Finucane, a former legal adviser at the US State Department, noted in the same New York Times article that any use of force would encounter domestic constraints in Washington. It would need congressional authorisations, and the US government is formally banned from attempting assassinations. This ban could only be circumvented, Finucane argued, in cases of self-defence.
However, at least since the 1980s, the ban on assassination has rarely constrained US foreign policy. The so-called “war on drugs” of successive administrations has often blended overt and covert uses of force, culminating in the killing of prominent drug traffickers.
Justifying assassination
The use of force and assassination featured in the first war on drugs, declared by then-US president Richard Nixon in 1971. Journalists working on the Watergate scandal, an investigation into the administration’s involvement in a break-in at the Democratic National Committee headquarters in Washington, revealed that Nixon and his assistants had considered using hit squads and the assassination of 150 leading drug traffickers.
But the self-defence exception first emerged under the administration of Ronald Reagan (1981–1989). The CIA’s then-director, William Casey, and its legal counsel, Stanley Sporkin, both argued that the ban on assassinations did not apply in cases of self-defence. Their argument found support in an administration that was developing a rhetoric and policies to pre-empt terrorism, similar to those established in the aftermath of 9/11.
In 1989, early in the George H.W. Bush administration, this precedent was enshrined in a memorandum of law: the Parks Memorandum. This stated that overt or covert uses of force ordered by the president in self-defence would not constitute assassination if they targeted “combatant forces of another nation, a guerrilla force or a terrorist, or other organisations whose actions pose a threat to the security of the US”.
By this time, drug trafficking had replaced terrorism as a key security concern in the US, and Medellín Cartel leader Pablo Escobar was enemy number one. In April 1989, the CIA established a counter-narcotics centre, and the National Security Council soon started working on a policy review on how to deal with drug traffickers.
Assassination and the use of force emerged as clear policy options. William J. Bennett, then chief of the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA), was a strong advocate of going after narcotraffickers. Bennett seemed to support the use of hit squads when he stated that same year: “We should do to the drug barons what our forces in the Persian Gulf did to Iran’s navy [during the Iran-Iraq war in the 1980s].”
Bush Sr also went back to another precedent set under Reagan. Starting in the mid-1980s, the Reagan administration had argued that a “marriage of convenience” had emerged between terrorists and drug traffickers. “Narcoterrorism”, then-secretary of state George Shultz suggested in 1987, should be considered a “shadow war”.
In this shadow war, assassination was seen as an available option – with some in the Bush Sr government proposing that if the ban on assassination did not apply to terrorists, it should not apply to drug traffickers either. Increasing violence by the Medellín Cartel at the time, alongside the Parks Memorandum and the administration’s declarations that cartels posed a national security threat, meant overt or covert use of force could be legitimised against the drug gangs too.
This became the legal rationale behind the so-called “kingpin strategy”, which involved the DEA, CIA, US armed forces and their local allies targeting and often killing drug lords and narcotraffickers. This included the leaders of the Medellín and Cali cartels. Escobar, for example, was killed by Colombian special forces in 1993, with extensive training and intelligence support from the US.
Covert and overt uses of force against “narcoterrorists” in the region continued under the following US administrations. This extended to leaders of rebel groups such as the Colombian Revolutionary Armed Forces (Farc), who were involved in drug trafficking and thus considered a threat by the US and its allies. The US role here was largely providing the technology that facilitated cross-border assassinations.
So, the use of US force against drug traffickers is not without precedent. But the measures threatened by Trump would in my view represent a dangerous escalation at a time of unprecedented international crisis. They are certainly a challenge to the Mexican government, whose president, Claudia Sheinbaum, has unequivocally stated: “The US is not going to come to Mexico with the military.”
Several studies into the use of force in the many wars on drugs have shown that military force is not an effective tool to counter the activities of cartels. Militarisation has already contributed to more violence in Mexico, and the decapitation of cartel leadership has often only increased the degree and brutality of such violence.
Luca Trenta 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.
Le numérique était censé tout « disrupter ». Mais il pourrait remettre en selle une pratique qu’on croyait disparue : le démantèlement de groupes pour rétablir une concurrence réelle et non faussée. Il faut suivre de près ce que décidera la Federal Trade Commission états-unienne dans l’affaire qui concerne le groupe Meta.
Le 15 avril 2025 s’est ouvert aux États-Unis, le procès Meta (FTC v. Meta Platforms, Inc.). Cette affaire fait suite à l’action en justice intentée par la Federal Trade Commission (FTC) à l’encontre de Meta. L’autorité reproche à l’entreprise d’avoir procédé aux acquisitions d’Instagram (2012) et de WhatsApp (2014), pour renforcer sa position dominante sur les réseaux sociaux, notamment en imposant des conditions inégales à l’égard des développeurs de logiciel. Ces comportements auraient, selon la FTC, pour conséquence, une expérience fortement dégradée pour les utilisateurs avec plus de publicités subies et une confidentialité réduite.
Depuis quelques années, la pratique des acquisitions prédatrices ou killers acquisitions– visant à éliminer une menace concurrentielle avant qu’elle n’émerge – est devenue une pratique courante, notamment pour les entreprises spécialisées dans le numérique comme en témoignerait ici le rachat par Meta d’Instagram et de WhatsApp au cœur de ce procès.
La pile de technologie publicitaire
Selon la FTC, l’objectif de ces rachats semble être dès le départ de chercher à éliminer toute concurrence sur le marché des réseaux sociaux. Cette pratique s’apparente à la stratégie dite de « pile de technologie publicitaire ». Cette dernière vise à renforcer la position dominante d’une entreprise sur plusieurs produits technologiques de publicité numérique par une série d’acquisitions prédatrices. Pour ces raisons, l’autorité a demandé une injonction visant à prévenir la réitération de ces types de pratiques ainsi que la cession d’Instagram et de WhatsApp.
En matière de contrôle des concentrations, les entreprises parties aux dites opérations acceptent souvent de procéder à une telle cession – totale ou partielle – d’actifs. Cette dernière opération consiste le plus souvent à vendre à des tiers des points de vente, des établissements, une division, une gamme de produits voire l’intégralité d’une filiale.
Dans le cadre des procédures de contrôle des concentrations par les autorités de la concurrence (FTC ou encore Commission européenne), la cession d’actifs permet à l’entreprise menant l’opération de concentration via une acquisition ou une fusion de proposer et ou de négocier des ventes d’actifs avec les autorités afin que son opération soit validée. La cession est donc dans ce cadre un instrument de nature structurel utilisé ici dans le cadre d’un contrôle a priori des opérations de concentrations garant de l’ordre public économique.
De la cession d’actifs à la scission de l’entreprise
Ce type de cession d’actifs doit néanmoins être distingué du démantèlement qui est susceptible aussi d’être utilisé par lesdites autorités. Le démantèlement correspond en la scission d’une entreprise en de multiples sociétés indépendantes mais il s’agit ici d’une sanction a posteriori.
Peut-on considérer le démantèlement comme une solution efficace ? La réponse semble a priori négative dans la mesure où le démantèlement dans ces affaires emblématiques s’est finalement avéré avec le temps peu opérant face aux stratégies de restructuration des entreprises. Ainsi, par exemple, le démantèlement de la Standard Oil s’est traduit au fil du temps par une recombinaison partielle des 34 sociétés se traduisant in fine par une des plus grandes fusions de l’histoire entre supermajors sur le marché pétrolier en 1999 entre EXXON (ex Standard Oil of California) et Mobil (ex Standard Oil of NY).
Une sanction à l’efficacité provisoire
Le démantèlement a certes permis de relancer temporairement la concurrence dans ce secteur, mais l’efficacité de la sanction disparaît plus ou moins rapidement au regard des stratégies de fusions-acquisitions que mettent en place les entreprises. Le démantèlement ne fut d’ailleurs guère utilisé en dehors de ces deux cas d’école. Il n’a jamais été utilisé en droit européen ni en droit français de la concurrence pour sanctionner des positions dominantes absolues ou quasi absolues comme celle de la Standard Oil en son temps. Les débats sur son éventuelle utilisation avaient quasiment disparu jusqu’à l’avènement de l’économie numérique.
L’économie numérique marquée par la vitesse des évolutions techniques et technologiques a pu laisser croire dans un premier temps que les monopoles ou les quasi-monopoles n’étaient qu’une histoire relevant de la vieille économie. Néanmoins, l’apparition et le développement des géants du numérique (GAFAM) combiné à une puissance financière et technologique sans égale et des stratégies d’acquisitions prédatrices des concurrents a permis à ces grands groupes de capter et de contrôler le développement des innovations disruptives. Les concurrents innovants au stade de start-up sont acquis avant même de pouvoir remettre en cause les positions dominantes des GAFAM.
Un renouveau pour le démantèlement
L’intérêt théorique et pratique pour le démantèlement connaît un renouveau en droit et en économie de la concurrence, la cession pouvant être considérée comme une menace crédible : en quelque sorte l’arme nucléaire du droit antitrust destinée à n’être utilisée qu’en dernier recours. Cette nouvelle forme de stratégie de la terreur suppose que la menace devrait suffire en principe à obtenir des entreprises concernées des engagements comportementaux et structurels devant remédier aux préoccupations de concurrence identifiées par les autorités de concurrence.
Arte 2025.
Le procès Meta incarne probablement cette volonté de gagner en crédibilité au même titre que l’article 18 du Digital Market Act (DMA) européen de 2022 prévoyant cette possibilité. Aux États-Unis, en l’absence de texte équivalent au DMA, le procès devant le tribunal de Washington constitue pour la FTC en invoquant le droit antitrust classique, le monopolisation ou l’abus de position dominante, de demander la vente partielle d’Instagram et de WhatsApp.
L’objectif est de rendre à ces filiales leur autonomie afin qu’elles puissent à nouveau concurrencer Meta sur le marché des réseaux sociaux. Ainsi, si finalement le tribunal suit le raisonnement de la FTC et que la cession se traduit par un démantèlement de Meta, cette mesure structurelle devient alors une menace crédible pour l’ensemble des GAFAM. Leur situation de position dominante serait alors menacée et les autorités et les tribunaux de la concurrence rétabliront la concurrence là où elle était absente ou quasi absente. Reste à savoir si l’histoire se répétera comme pour le pétrole ou les télécoms et si, à terme, les groupes finiront par se reconstituer…
Les auteurs ne travaillent pas, ne conseillent pas, ne possèdent pas de parts, ne reçoivent pas de fonds d’une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n’ont déclaré aucune autre affiliation que leur organisme de recherche.
El true crime (historias sobre crímenes reales) se ha convertido en uno de los géneros más populares de los últimos años. Series, documentales, libros, pódcasts y canales de YouTube nos invitan a seguir asesinatos, desapariciones y juicios como si fueran ficción. Pero no lo son.
Detrás de cada historia hay víctimas reales, familias que todavía sufren y un dolor que no debería tratarse como simple entretenimiento.
Este tipo de contenidos se ha vuelto uno de los favoritos de las plataformas digitales. Pero lo preocupante no es solo su éxito, sino que cada vez nos parezca más normal sentir curiosidad por el crimen.
Además, se suele repetir el mismo tipo de personajes: mujeres blancas, jóvenes y atractivas como víctimas, junto a agresores fríos, calculadores y carismáticos. Las vidas que no encajan en ese molde no aparecen, porque no todos los dolores “venden” igual. Y mientras tanto, se ignora el derecho al silencio, al duelo privado o al olvido.
Usado por quienes buscan seguridad
El consumo de true crime es más complejo de lo que parece. No se trata solo de morbo. Hay quienes buscan sentirse más seguras, aprender a detectar señales de peligro o prepararse ante posibles amenazas.
Para muchas personas, estos contenidos también funcionan como vía de escape. Buscan emociones intensas desde la tranquilidad de su casa, sin correr riesgos. Hay quienes los ven para calmar el insomnio, combatir el aburrimiento o lidiar con la ansiedad. Otros se sienten reflejados en las víctimas y encuentran en estas historias una forma de entender y dar sentido a lo que han vivido.
Pero ver estos contenidos una y otra vez también puede tener efectos negativos: puede hacernos insensibles, hacer que la violencia nos parezca algo normal y reforzar ideas equivocadas sobre el crimen.
Además, algunas de estas historias presentan a los agresores de forma atractiva o incluso romántica. En redes sociales se crean vínculos emocionales con ellos. Incluso hay grupos de fans que admiran a asesinos en serie como Ted Bundy o Jeffrey Dahmer. Todo esto muestra una forma peligrosa de hacer que el mal parezca interesante o bonito.
El ASMR del crimen
Uno de los casos más extremos de esta tendencia es el ASMR true crime. El ASMR, que en inglés significa “Respuesta Sensorial Meridiana Autónoma”, es una sensación agradable que muchas personas sienten al oír susurros, ruidos suaves o movimientos repetitivos. Es una forma de relajarse que se ha hecho muy popular en internet.
Algunos canales han empezado a contar asesinatos reales con este estilo: voz baja, tono suave y ambiente relajante. Canales como el de Bailey Sarian han hecho popular este formato, donde maquillaje y crimen se mezclan en la misma pantalla. Así, el sufrimiento se convierte en algo que acompaña mientras uno se relaja.
Esta forma de contar el crimen, que mezcla cuidado personal y relajación, plantea un problema ético importante: ¿qué pasa cuando usamos el sufrimiento de otras personas como fondo para relajarnos? ¿Estamos perdiendo sensibilidad ante el dolor real? ¿Qué tipo de empatía estamos construyendo si un asesinato puede convertirse en algo que escuchamos para dormir?
Como experta en criminología, me preocupa que muchas de estas historias refuercen ideas equivocadas. Se presenta al criminal como alguien inteligente o fascinante, se insinúa que la víctima hizo algo mal. Al mismo tiempo se ocultan las causas profundas de la violencia: la desigualdad, el racismo o el abuso de poder.
Como sociedad, deberíamos hacernos algunas preguntas: ¿nos emociona la historia o solo el misterio? ¿Nos importa la víctima o solo queremos el giro final? ¿Vemos estos contenidos para entender lo que pasa en el mundo o solo para distraernos?
Por eso es urgente hablar de los límites éticos del género. Necesitamos reglas básicas: pedir permiso a las familias, tratar con respeto a quienes ya no están, contar los hechos con cuidado y contexto. Y en España también necesitamos un marco ético claro que regule cómo se crean y difunden estos contenidos.
No podemos dejar estas decisiones en manos del algoritmo o de la audiencia. Hay que proteger la privacidad, el derecho a decidir y el respeto por el dolor ajeno.
El problema no es solo de quienes producen estos contenidos. También lo es de quienes los vemos. Yo misma los he consumido, a veces por motivos profesionales, otras por curiosidad. Pero si dejamos de sentir algo, si el dolor de otras personas ya no nos toca, entonces estamos perdiendo algo importante.
Esto no va de censurar. Va de pedir historias más justas, más humanas. De aprender a distinguir entre memoria y morbo, entre justicia y entretenimiento.
Porque el true crime no solo habla de crímenes. Habla de nosotros y de lo que elegimos ver.
Dolores Fernández Pérez 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.
En una era en la que la inteligencia artificial (IA) moldea todo, desde recortes masivos en presupuestos gubernamentales hasta políticas de migración y aprobaciones de hipotecas, la pregunta de quién controla nuestra infraestructura digital nunca ha sido más urgente.
A medida que los multimillonarios tecnológicos incrustan su influencia en la política global, los gobiernos de todo el mundo están despertando a los riesgos de la dependencia. Así, los expertos debaten cada vez más vías hacia la soberanía digital: la capacidad de estados y sociedades para gobernar la tecnología alineada con valores democráticos, en lugar de intereses corporativos o extranjeros.
Las grandes potencias apuestan fuerte
La soberanía digital ha evolucionado de ser una noción vaga entre analistas, políticos y activistas a un eslogan político global en la última década. Su ascenso se aceleró en años recientes, caracterizado por eventos que han marcado un punto de inflexión.
Por un lado, la agenda proteccionista de Trump y Biden prohibió tecnología china en mercados estadounidenses, por otro, el Reglamento General de Protección de Datos (RGPD) de la Unión Europea (UE) extiende reglas extraterritorialmente y la Ley de Ciberseguridad de China exige localización de datos. Mientras, el último Plan de Acción de IA de EE. UU. pretende “ganar la carrera de la inteligencia artificial”.
Estas acciones de las grandes potencias mundiales han desatado debates sobre autonomía en comunicación digital, derechos, seguridad y transformación de la sociedad.
Soberanía de infraestructuras críticas
La soberanía digital no implica aislacionismo o proteccionismo. Se trata de reclamar agencia en un mundo donde infraestructuras críticas, desde computación en la nube hasta modelos de IA, están dominadas por un puñado de titanes tecnológicos chinos –Alibaba, Baidu, Huawei y Tencent– y estadounidenses –Alphabet (Google), Amazon, Apple, Meta, Microsoft, OpenAI y Palantir–.
Las apuestas geopolíticas son altas. Los gigantes digitales orquestan un ecosistema depredador en regiones como América Latina, por ejemplo. Estas compañías no solo concentran datos y ganancias: controlan vastas redes y extraen conocimiento de investigaciones globales mientras establecen agendas de IA.
La nube es una caja negra donde confluyen producción, intercambio y consumo, atrapando a startups, a corporaciones e, incluso, a gobiernos, en una situación de dependencia interminable.
Este extractivismo se extiende al planeta mismo. Los centros de datos de IA, como las nuevas fábricas de nuestra economía, devoran inmensos recursos, como electricidad y agua. Esta reconexión a escala planetaria está en manos de actores, a menudo, más allá del control estatal, lo que exacerba crisis ecológicas y tensiones geopolíticas. Desde sabotajes a cables submarinos hasta satélites influyendo en zonas de guerra, las herramientas digitales son armas de doble filo.
Hacia una alternativa
El concepto de soberanía digital abarca términos variados, como soberanía de internet, autosuficiencia tecnológica, autonomía estratégica o soberanía de datos, invocados por actores diversos más allá de las grandes potencias. Esto incluye a economías emergentes, organizaciones privadas y grupos indígenas.
Aunque criticado como proteccionismo o nacionalismo disfrazado, en realidad, busca una esfera digital ordenada y regulada que aborda derechos individuales, seguridad colectiva, aplicabilidad y competencia. Enfatiza la soberanía democrática y permite a ciudadanos moldear la transformación digital de manera autodeterminada. También es cierto que, como ocurre con cualquier otra invocación de la noción de soberanía, hay regímenes autoritarios que disfrazan políticas de manipulación y de acceso restringido a la información digital como un legítimo ejercicio de soberanía digital.
Estas tensiones subrayan un desafío central, en un momento en que la tecnología digital fusiona servicios públicos con monopolios industriales. El surgimiento de las tecnologías digitales está transformando fundamentalmente el poder en la geopolítica, al permitir que ciertos países extiendan su influencia mucho más allá de los instrumentos convencionales. Reconducir la situación implica ver la soberanía como un proceso de fortalecimiento de la autodeterminación y la colaboración entre distintos países.
Pero no se trata solo de la lucha de Europa. Perspectivas de comunidades en el Sur Global, aunque no constituyen un grupo homogéneo ni una sola voz unificada en los asuntos mundiales, revelan enfoques multifacéticos, desde ecosistemas autosuficientes hasta revitalización cultural vía herramientas digitales, desafiando visiones centradas en Occidente.
La soberanía digital exige acción: invertir en infraestructuras públicas y lograr interoperabilidad –capacidad de compartir información entre distintos sistemas informáticos–. Los creadores de valor no deben ser solo corporaciones privadas. Priorizando personas y planeta sobre rentas, podemos forjar un futuro digital más participativo e inclusivo. Si fracasamos, no solo nos acecha el vasallaje económico, sino la erosión de la democracia misma.
Ulf Thoene 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.
Source: The Conversation – (in Spanish) – By Carlos Gutiérrez Hita, Profesor titular de Universidad. Economía industrial (transporte, energía, telecomunicaciones), Universidad Miguel Hernández
La liberalización en España del transporte de viajeros por tren (2021) ha conllevado un aumento en la frecuencia de paso de los trenes por su red ferroviaria. Al mismo tiempo, el incremento en el número de incidencias de los últimos tiempos ha provocado el deterioro de su imagen de servicio de calidad, llevando a cuestionar el estado de las infraestructuras, y socavando la confianza de los consumidores.
Por otra parte, las ineficiencias en el sistema de transporte afectan al turismo, uno de los sectores económicos con más peso en la economía española.
Aunque algunos problemas podrían deberse a la diferencia en las especificaciones técnicas de los trenes (y no tanto a la intensidad de uso de las vías), esto no justifica ni la existencia ni la persistencia de las incidencias, pues todos los modelos de trenes pasan por las validaciones técnicas correspondientes.
Parece entonces que la solución podría estar en un mejor mantenimiento de la red ferroviaria por parte de Adif, empresa estatal española que tiene a su cargo la construcción y explotación de líneas de ferrocarril.
Viajeros al tren
A comienzos de 2025, la cuota de mercado del trasporte de viajeros de larga distancia por ferrocarril sufrió su primera caída desde el fin de las restricciones provocadas por la pandemia.
Según datos del Instituto Nacional de Estadística (INE), durante el primer trimestre de 2025 los viajes en tren ascendieron a 165 millones. Esta cifra representa una caída del 1,2 % respecto al mismo periodo del año anterior, y de más del 8 % en comparación con el último trimestre de 2024. Este cambio de tendencia deja al descubierto problemas estructurales para el sistema ferroviario español.
Del monopolio a la liberalización: los participantes
La marca low cost Avlo, del antiguo monopolista estatal de transporte ferroviario Renfe, comenzó a operar en junio de 2021 en la línea Madrid-Barcelona. Ahora cubre también los corredores del Levante y Andalucía.
Avlo es competencia de la primera marca de alta velocidad que hubo en España, AVE (1992), también de Renfe, que aplica aquí una estrategia de diferenciación, ofreciendo a través de dos marcas independientes entre sí dos versiones distintas (a precios diferentes) de un mismo servicio.
La competencia efectiva comenzó con la introducción en España del servicio Ouigo (de la estatal francesa SNCF), que comenzó a operar poco antes que Avlo, en mayo de 2021, también en la ruta Madrid-Barcelona, ampliando luego sus servicios al corredor del Levante.
Por último, el servicio Iryo (participado por Trenitalia, Air Nostrum y Globalvia) realizó su primer viaje comercial el 25 de noviembre de 2022, uniendo Madrid, Zaragoza y Barcelona. Luego ha continuado su expansión al corredor del Levante y Andalucía.
Con la entrada de estos nuevos operadores se ha producido un aumento en las frecuencias de viaje en los tres corredores de alta velocidad con mayor demanda: Madrid-Cataluña, Madrid-Levante y el más antiguo, Madrid-Andalucía.
A las incidencias en la alta velocidad se ha sumado la retirada de las modernas unidades Avril S106 de Talgo por las fisuras encontradas en sus bogies, el sistema de rodadura donde se asientan los coches de pasajeros.
Los problemas también llegan a las estaciones. En Madrid, las obras de mejora en Atocha y en Chamartín están provocando interrupciones y afectaciones al tráfico que también impactan en la operativa de la alta velocidad. Otros trabajos, como las obras para la integración de Almería a la alta velocidad, han requerido cerrar tramos ferroviarios y establecer planes de transporte alternativos por carretera.
Las causas
Básicamente, los problemas experimentados por la red se deben a tres factores que se retroalimentan entre sí:
El aumento del tráfico tras la liberalización del sector. Con el incremento de frecuencias se ha intensificado el uso de la red y el desgaste de las infraestructuras críticas: las vías y las catenarias (los cables aéreos que transmiten energía eléctrica a las locomotoras).
El envejecimiento de la infraestructura: las líneas más antiguas, como la de Madrid-Sevilla, con más de 30 años de servicio, exigen un mantenimiento exhaustivo y una inversión significativa en la renovación de la vía, la señalización y el mantenimiento de las catenarias.
Los problemas en la gestión de la red por parte de Adif. Como gestor de la infraestructura, ha admitido problemas específicos como fallos en las catenarias o en las subestaciones eléctricas, que provocan una sobrecarga del sistema que la infraestructura no está preparada para soportar. En este sentido, algunos expertos sugieren que la gestión y la falta de personal o repuestos pueden agravar las incidencias.
El camino hacia una red segura y eficiente
La inversión en mantenimiento se está revelando como insuficiente o, al menos, mal ejecutada. En 2024, ADIF Alta Velocidad invirtió casi 4 500 millones de euros, un 158 % más de lo que destinaba en 2018. Más de 1 060 millones (un 75 % más que hace una década) se emplearon en mantenimiento.
De los tres corredores con más intensidad de uso y competencia, la línea Madrid-Sevilla, la más antigua de la alta velocidad, es la más problemática. El aumento de frecuencia de paso de trenes y el hecho de que Ouigo haya tenido que adaptar sus trenes al sistema de señalización que usa esta línea ha podido influir en esto.
Las declaraciones oficiales sobre la adecuada inversión en mantenimiento y a tratar los problemas como puntuales, contrastan con la opinión del Sindicato Ferroviario, que considera que no ha habido inversiones adecuadas en mantenimiento y se ha priorizado la apertura de nuevas líneas de alta velocidad.
Por su parte, SEMAF, el sindicato de maquinistas, afirma que, por seguridad y a causa de las imperfecciones en las vías, la velocidad no debería sobrepasar los 250 kilómetros por hora. Especialmente en algunos tramos de de Madrid a Sevilla, Málaga, Valencia y Barcelona.
Mantenimiento y racionalización
El camino hacia un transporte ferroviario de calidad debe pasar por el buen mantenimiento de la red ya existente antes que por su crecimiento. El estado de las vías y las catenarias, además de la racionalización del espacio en las estaciones, deberían ser la prioridad para Adif, el Ministerio de Transportes y, en general, todos los actores que participan por el lado de la oferta en la prestación del servicio.
El objetivo debe ser fortalecer la confianza del usuario, evitando que la acumulación de incidencias provoque un trasvase hacia otros medios de transporte menos sostenibles y eficientes. También se necesita el compromiso de Adif, como gestor de las infraestructuras ferroviarias, y las administraciones públicas para invertir en el mantenimiento y modernización de la red, proporcionando un servicio con altas frecuencias de paso, seguro y puntual.
Carlos Gutiérrez Hita recibe fondos del Ministerio de Ciencia, Innovación y Universidades y de la Consellería de Educación, Cultura, Universidades y Empleo de la Generalitat Valenciana.
