Category: Analysis

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Guangwen Zhou, Professor of Mechanical Engineering, Binghamton University, State University of New York

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

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What is rust? – Henry E., age 13, Boston, Massachusetts

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Imagine leaving your shiny metal bicycle outside in the rain. As water pools on its surfaces, oxygen from the air lingers nearby, and together they begin to quietly attack the metal.

The iron in the bike and the oxygen and water in the environment together undergo a chemical reaction. It forms iron oxide – better known as rust – which accumulates over time. This reddish-brown, flaky substance is more than just ugly; it’s a sign that the metal is breaking down.

Chemists call this process oxidation. You can think of iron as like a superhero — tough, durable and shiny — until it meets its kryptonite: moisture and air. Water helps iron atoms more easily shed their electrons, which are negatively charged particles. Oxygen acts like a tiny electron thief, stealing those electrons and leaving the metal weak and crumbly.

The shiny, metallic iron used in homes and industry is a refined form of what is found in nature — iron ore. Rust is a natural process — the refined iron is essentially trying to return to its original oxidized, stable state: iron ore.

From bikes and cars to bridges and ships

From household fixtures to monumental machines, rust moves in wherever metal meets moisture and time.

On bikes and cars, the combination of rain and exposed metal often triggers a full-blown rust party, eating away at frames and undercarriages. Old water pipes are another hot spot — over time, they corrode from the inside, often leaking brown, rusty water into sinks and tubs. In the kitchen, standing water left around sinks or faucets can lead to yellow-orange rust stains that are as stubborn to remove as they are unsightly.

On a much larger scale, rust can wreak havoc on ships and bridges. Corroded hulls can lead to oil leaks or even catastrophic sinking, costing the maritime industry billions of dollars each year in repairs and environmental damage.

And here’s a twist – salt speeds up the rusting process. In snowy regions, road salt doesn’t just melt ice; it also turbocharges oxidation, accelerating the corrosion process. That’s why cars in snowy places might rust faster.

Rust is the term for the specific type of corrosion that occurs in iron or steel. But any metal can chemically degrade due to reactions with environmental factors like oxygen and moisture.

Even old statues aren’t immune. Those greenish-blue figures you see in parks and plazas? That’s not paint; it’s patina, the copper version of rust. Though more visually appealing, patina is still a form of corrosion.

How can you stop rust?

By understanding the chemistry behind rust, people have found smart ways to slow it down or even stop it altogether, protecting everything from bridges to bicycles.

One of the simplest methods is to paint the metal surface. Paint acts like a waterproof jacket, sealing the metal off from air and moisture – the two key ingredients for rust.

Keeping metal dry is another practical defense. Tools are often stored in dry spaces or alongside dehumidifiers to minimize moisture.

Another technique, called galvanization, coats one metal with a more reactive one, like zinc. Zinc corrodes more easily than iron, forming a stable layer of zinc oxide when exposed to air and moisture. The zinc oxide is a protective barrier to further corrosion – until it gradually wears away, leaving the underlying iron vulnerable to rust once again.

And then there’s stainless steel: a corrosion-resistant mixture, called an alloy, of iron with other metals, such as chromium. When exposed to air, chromium undergoes its own version of rusting, forming a stable layer of chromium oxide.

This layer is extremely thin, 100,000 times thinner than a single strand of human hair. It is invisible to the naked eye, sticks tightly to the metal surface and prevents further oxidation. The chromium oxide layer is also self-healing — if scratched, the exposed chromium quickly reforms the protective barrier. That’s why stainless steel is used in everything from kitchen sinks to surgical tools.

Watching rust on the atomic level

I’m a materials scientist who uses advanced imaging tools, like transmission electron microscopes, to study how metals oxidize at the atomic scale. We can actually watch as tiny metal atoms lose electrons and oxygen atoms gain them, undergoing corrosion in real time.

For instance, in one study, we observed the way a thin layer of aluminum oxide forms instantly when aluminum is exposed to oxygen or water vapor. This oxide layer doesn’t flake off like rust on iron; instead, it forms a uniform, tightly bonded protective coating that blocks any more oxygen and water from reaching the underlying metal. That’s why aluminum resists continued corrosion – unlike iron, whose rust layer is porous, allowing the reaction to keep going.

Oxidation can be harmful, causing rusting, or beneficial when harnessed to protect metals instead. By observing these processes in real time, my colleagues and I aim to create materials that last longer and work better in everyday life — for example, to construct stronger bridges, more efficient batteries and safer airplanes.

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

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

Guangwen Zhou receives funding from the National Science Foundation, and the Office of Basic Energy Science, Department of Energy

– ref. What is rust? A materials scientist explains metal’s crusty enemy – https://theconversation.com/what-is-rust-a-materials-scientist-explains-metals-crusty-enemy-255276

Source: The Conversation – USA – By William Taylor, Assistant Professor and Curator of Archaeology, University of Colorado Boulder

Moose are on the loose in the southern Rockies.

In July 2025, a young wandering bull was captured roaming a city park in Greeley, Colorado. A spate of similar urban sightings alongside some aggressive moose encounters has elevated moose management and conservation into a matter of public debate, especially across metro Denver and the Colorado Front Range.

In Rocky Mountain National Park, a recent study found that moose and elk might be to blame for far-reaching changes to valley ecosystems, as their browsing reduces important plants like willows, depriving beavers of habitat and materials for their wetland engineering. Park wildlife are generally not managed through hunting, but the park has tried techniques like fencing moose away from wetland zones. Publicly, discussion has swirled around further mitigation measures to slow or eliminate moose populations.

At the heart of this debate is a basic question – do moose belong in the southern Rockies at all?

During much of the last century, moose were apparently rare in Colorado. The animals are absent from some early 20th century official wildlife tallies. Then, in 1978, the Colorado Division of Wildlife – now Colorado Parks and Wildlife – released a group of moose into North Park in north-central Colorado. At the time, biologists understood their efforts to be a reintroduction, but in the years since, wildlife managers have shifted their thinking about the place of moose in local ecosystems.

In the decades that followed, the moose expanded their range and numbers. Today, informal estimates by Colorado Parks and Wildlife put the moose population at around 3,500 animals. Under increased moose browsing pressure and a shifting climate, some mountain wetland environments are changing.

Should these changes be thought of as human-made ecological wounds caused by releasing moose? The National Park Service seems to think so.

Statements from 2025 on the park service website, and other public messaging from wildlife officials, assert that Colorado has never supported a breeding population of moose – only the occasional transient visitor. The factual basis for this idea seems to hinge heavily on an unpublished internal report from 2015, which identified only a few archaeological or historical records of moose near the park.

We are a team of archaeologists, paleoecologists and conservation paleobiologists studying the ancient animals of the Rockies.

Understanding moose and their interactions with people centuries ago means carefully analyzing different traces that survive the passage of time. These can range from the bones of animals themselves to indirect clues preserved in everything from lake sediments to historical records.

Are moose actually native to Colorado?

As scientists studying the past, we know that reconstructing the ancient geographic ranges of animals is difficult. Archaeological sites with animal bones can be a great tool to understand the past, especially for tracing the food choices of ancient humans. But such sites can be rare, and even when they are well preserved and well studied, it can take lots of care and scientific research to identify the species of each bone.

Harder still is determining the intimate details of ancient animals’ lives, including how and where they lived, died or reproduced. Such key details can be especially opaque for moose, who are solitary and elusive. Because of this, moose may not end up in human diets, even where both species have established populations. A comprehensive review of archaeological sites from across Alaska and some areas of the Canadian Yukon, where moose are common today and have likely been present since the end of the last Ice Age, found that moose were nearly absent until the past few centuries. In fact, moose often comprised less than 0.1% of the total number of bones in very large collections, if they appeared at all. In some areas, cultural reasons like taboos against moose hunting can also prevent them from ending up in archaeological bone tallies.

In new research published as a preprint in advance of peer review, we took a closer look at the idea that moose were absent from Colorado before 1978. We combed through newspaper records, photo archives and early travel diaries and identified dozens of references to moose sightings in Colorado spanning the first records in 1860 through the decade of moose reintroduction in the 1970s.

Moose sightings appear in the very earliest written records of the area that would become Rocky Mountain National Park. In his 1863 diary, Milton Estes described happening upon a large moose alongside a band of elk while on a hunting trip.

“Since elk were common I picked out Mr. Moose for my game,” he wrote.

Milton thought he had bagged “the first and only moose that had ever been killed so far south.” He was wrong.

Our archival research turned up even earlier sightings of moose in the area, along with many more across the region in the decades that followed. Diaries, newspapers and photo records from the past two centuries show the presence of not only young bulls, which at times can range widely, but also cows and calves, a sign that local breeding was taking place in Colorado before reintroduction.

These sightings recorded in diaries and newspapers don’t have to stand on their own. Moose appear in older placenames around the state, like the area once known as Moose Park along the road from Lyons to Estes Park. Written accounts from the late 19th and early 20th centuries among Ute, Shoshone and Arapaho peoples describe moose stories, hunts and songs. And though historical records don’t go too much further back than the mid-19th century in Colorado, archaeological records do.

Our survey of Colorado sites turned up ancient moose at Jurgens, near Greeley, dated to more than 9,000 years ago, and even moose bone tools among the ruins of Mesa Verde, only a few centuries ago.

This question of whether moose are native to the southern Rockies is not just a philosophical one – its answer will shape management decisions by the National Park Service and others.

Official narrative minimizes moose presence

The contemporary idea of moose as non-native animals reflects a different understanding than was common only a few decades ago. In the 1940s, some biologists described moose as a native species that had been “extirpated except for stragglers.” As recently as the early 1970s, Rocky Mountain National Park officials understood their moose work as a reintroduction of “wild animals once native to the park.” Our findings suggest that the valid knowledge of earlier scientists has since faded or been replaced, repositioning moose as ecological outsiders.

As moose-human conflicts and shifting wetland ecologies prompt hard conversations over how to manage moose, a range of options have been discussed in public discourse. These include courses of action such as the reintroduction of carnivores like wolves, or targeted hunting access for tribes or the public.

If moose are ‘invasive,’ they can be removed

For federal agencies, labels like “invasive” or “non-native” carry legal connotations and can be used to enable other measures, like eradication.

In Olympic National Park, where mountain goats were deemed invasive and ecologically impactful, biologists undertook an extermination campaign that involved shooting the animals from helicopters, despite warnings from archaeologists as long ago as the late 1990s that the data behind their argument was flawed.

As the animal and plant communities of our Rockies change rapidly in a warming world, this kind of policy would not only be unsupported by scientific evidence, but also likely to impede the ability of our animal communities to survive, adapt and thrive.

The historical evidence indicates that moose are not foreign intruders. Archival, archaeological and anthropological data shows that moose have been in the southern Rockies for centuries, if not millennia. Rather than treat moose as a threat, we urge Rocky Mountain National Park and other agencies to work in partnership with tribes, paleoecologists and the public to carefully develop historically grounded management plans for this Colorado native.

John Wendt previously worked for Rocky Mountain National Park as a seasonal employee in 2012.

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

– ref. Moose have lived in Colorado for centuries – unpacking the evidence from history, archaeology and oral traditions – https://theconversation.com/moose-have-lived-in-colorado-for-centuries-unpacking-the-evidence-from-history-archaeology-and-oral-traditions-261060

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Dan O’Brien, Professor of Public Policy and Urban Affairs and Director of the Boston Area Research Initiative, Northeastern University

It’s summer, and it’s been hot, even in northern cities such as Boston. But not everyone is hit with the heat in the same way, even within the same neighborhood.

Take two streets in Boston at 4:30 p.m. on a recent day, as an example. Standing in the sun on Lewis Place, the temperature was 94 degrees Fahrenheit (34.6 degrees Celsius). On Dudley Common, it was 103 F (39.2 C). Both streets were hot, but the temperature on one was much more dangerous for people’s health and well-being.

The kicker is that those two streets are only a few blocks apart. The difference epitomizes the urban heat island effect, created as pavement and buildings absorb and trap heat, making some parts of the city hotter.

A closer look at the two streets shows some key differences:

• Dudley Common is public open space sandwiched between two thoroughfares that create a wide expanse of pavement lined with storefronts. There aren’t many trees to be found.

• Lewis Place is a residential cul-de-sac with two-story homes accompanied by lots of trees.

This comparison of two places within a few minutes’ walk of each other puts the urban heat island effect under a microscope. It also shows the limits of today’s strategies for managing and responding to heat and its effects on public health, which are generally attuned to neighborhood or citywide conditions.

Even within the same neighborhood, some places are much hotter than others owing to their design and infrastructure. You could think of these as urban heat islets in the broader landscape of a community.

Sensing urban heat islets

Emerging technologies are making it easier to find urban heat islets, opening the door to new strategies for improving health in our communities.

While the idea of reducing heat across an entire city or neighborhood is daunting, targeting specific blocks that need assistance the most can be faster and a much more efficient use of resources.

Doing that starts with making urban heat islets visible.

In Boston, I’m part of a team that has installed more than three dozen sensors across the Roxbury neighborhood to measure temperature every minute for a better picture of the community’s heat risks, and we’re in the process of installing 25 more. The Common SENSES project is a collaboration of community-based organizations, including the Dudley Street Neighborhood Initiative and Project Right Inc.; university researchers like me who are affiliated with Northeastern University’s Boston Area Research Initiative; and Boston city officials. It was created to pursue data-driven, community-led solutions for improving the local environment.

Data from those sensors generate a real-time map of the conditions in the neighborhood, from urban heat islets like Dudley Common to cooler urban oases, such as Lewis Place.

These technologies are becoming increasingly affordable and are being deployed in communities around the world to pinpoint heat risks, including Miami, Baltimore, Singapore and Barcelona. There are also alternatives when long-term installations prove too expensive, such as the U.S.’s National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration volunteer science campaign, which has used mobile sensors to generate one-time heat maps for more than 50 cities.

Making cooler communities, block by block

Although detailed knowledge of urban heat islets is becoming more available, we have barely scratched the surface of how they can be used to enhance people’s health and well-being.

The sources of urban heat islets are rooted in development – more buildings, more pavement and fewer trees result in hotter spaces. Many projects using community-based sensors aspire to use the data to counteract these effects by identifying places where it would be most helpful to plant trees for shade or install cool roofs or cool pavement that reflect the heat.

However, these current efforts do not fully capitalize on the precision of sensors. For example, Los Angeles’ massive investment in cool pavement has focused on the city broadly rather than overheated neighborhoods. New York City’s tree planting efforts in some areas failed to anticipate where trees could be successfully planted.

Most other efforts compare neighborhood to neighborhood, as if every street within a neighborhood experiences the same temperature. London, for example, uses satellite data to locate heat islands, but the resolution isn’t precise enough to see differences block by block.

In contrast, data pinpointing the highest-risk areas enables urban planners to strategically place small pocket parks, cool roofs and street trees to help cool the hottest spaces. Cities could incentivize or require developers to incorporate greenery into their plans to mitigate existing urban heat islets or prevent new ones. These targeted interventions are cost-effective and have the greatest potential to help the most people.

But this could go further by using the data to create more sophisticated alert systems. For example, the National Weather Service’s Boston office released a heat advisory for July 25, the day I measured the heat in Dudley Common and Lewis Place, but the advisory showed nearly the entirety of the state of Massachusetts at the same warning level.

What if warnings were more locally precise?

On certain days, some streets cross a crucial threshold – say, 90 F (32.2 C) – whereas others do not. Sensor data capturing these hyperlocal variations could be communicated directly to residents or through local organizations. Advisories could share maps of the hottest streets or suggest cool paths through neighborhoods.

There is increasing evidence of urban heat islets in many urban communities and even suburban ones. With data showing these hyperlocal risks, policymakers and project coordinators can collaborate with communities to help address areas that many community members know from experience tend to be much hotter than surrounding areas in summer.

As one of my colleagues, Nicole Flynt of Project Right Inc., likes to say, “Data + Stories = Truth.” If communities act upon both the temperature data and the stories their residents share, they can help their residents keep cool — because it’s hot out there.

Dan O’Brien has received funding from the National Science Foundation’s Smart & Connected Communities program for work associated with this article (award #2230036).

– ref. Inside an urban heat island, one street can be much hotter than its neighbor – new tech makes it easier to target cooling projects – https://theconversation.com/inside-an-urban-heat-island-one-street-can-be-much-hotter-than-its-neighbor-new-tech-makes-it-easier-to-target-cooling-projects-261917

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Li Qiao, Professor of Aeronautics and Astronautics, Purdue University

The federal spending law passed in early July 2025, often called the One Big Beautiful Bill Act, significantly reduces federal funding for efforts to create renewable or sustainable types of fuel that can power aircraft over long distances while decreasing the damage aviation does to the global climate.

Aviation contributed about 2.5% of global carbon emissions in 2023. It’s particularly hard to reduce emissions from planes because there are few alternatives for large, portable quantities of energy-dense fuel. Electric batteries with enough energy to power an international flight, for instance, would be much larger and heavier than airplane fuel tanks.

One potential solution, which I work on as an aerospace engineer, is a category of fuel called “sustainable aviation fuel.” Unlike conventional jet fuel, which is refined from petroleum, sustainable aviation fuels are produced from renewable and waste resources — such as used cooking oil, agricultural leftovers, algae, sewage and trash. But they are similar enough to conventional jet fuels that they work in existing aircraft tanks and engines without any major modifications.

Prior to Donald Trump’s second term as president, the U.S. government had set some bold targets: by 2030, producing 3 billion gallons of this type of fuel every year, and by 2050, producing enough to fuel every U.S. commercial jet flight. But there’s a long journey ahead.

A range of source materials

The earliest efforts to create sustainable aviation fuels relied on food crops – turning corn into ethanol or soybean oil into biodiesel. The raw materials were readily available, but growing them competed with food production.

The next generation of biofuels are using nonfood sources such as algae, or agricultural waste such as manure or stalks from harvested corn. These don’t compete with food supplies. If processed efficiently, they also have the potential to emit less carbon: Algae absorb carbon dioxide during their growth, and using agricultural waste avoids its decomposition, which would release greenhouse gases.

But these biofuels are harder to produce and more expensive, in part because the technologies are new, and in part because there are not yet logistics systems in place to collect, transport and process large quantities of source material.

Some researchers are working to create biofuels with the help of genetically modified bacteria that convert specific raw materials into biofuel. In one method, algae are grown to produce sugars or oils, which are then fed to engineered bacteria that turn them into usable fuels, such as ethanol, butanol or alkanes. In another effort, photosynthetic microbes such as cyanobacteria are modified to directly convert sunlight and carbon dioxide into fuel.

All these approaches – and others being explored as well – aim to create sustainable, carbon-neutral alternatives to fossil fuels. Exciting as it sounds, most of this technology is still locked away in labs, not available in airports.

Blends are being tested

At present, the U.S. Federal Aviation Administration allows airlines to fuel their aircraft with blends of up to 50% sustainable aviation fuel, mixed with conventional jet fuel. The exact percentage depends on how the fuel was made, which relates to how chemically and physically similar it is to petroleum-based jet fuel, and therefore how well it will work in existing aircraft tanks, pipes and engines.

There are two major hurdles to wider adoption: cost and supply. Sustainable fuels are much more expensive than traditional jet fuel, with cost differences varying by process and raw material. For instance, the raw price of Jet-A, the most common petroleum-based aviation fuel, had a wholesale price averaging US$2.34 a gallon in 2024, but one type of sustainable fuel wholesaled at about $5.20 a gallon that year.

The federal budget enacted in July 2025 reduces government subsidies, effectively raising the cost of making these fuels.

In part because of cost, sustainable fuel is produced only in small quantities: In 2025, global production is expected to be about 2 million metric tons of the fuel, which is less than 1% of the worldwide demand for aviation fuel. There is international pressure to increase demand – starting in January 2025, all jet fuel supplied at airports in the European Union must include at least 2% sustainable fuel, with minimum percentages increasing over time.

Planes can use these fuels

Companies such as General Electric and Rolls-Royce have shown that the jet engines they manufacture can run perfectly on sustainable fuels.

However, sustainable aviation fuels can have slightly different density and energy content from standard jet fuel. That means the aircraft’s weight distribution and flight range could change.

And other parts of the aircraft also have to be compatible, such as those that store, pump and maintain the balance of the fuel. That includes valves, pipes and rubber seals. As a visiting professor at Boeing in the summer of 2024, I learned that it and other aircraft manufacturers are working closely with their suppliers to ensure sustainable aviation fuels can be safely and reliably integrated into every part of the aircraft.

Those finer details are why headlines you may have seen about flights that burn “100% sustainable aviation fuel” are not quite the full story. Usually, the fuel on those flights contains a small amount of conventional jet fuel or special additives. That’s because sustainable fuels lack some of the aromatic chemical compounds found in fossil-based fuels that are required to maintain proper seals throughout the aircraft’s fuel system.

Good promise, with work ahead

While many details remain, sustainable aviation fuels offer a promising way to reduce the carbon footprint of air travel without reinventing or redesigning entire airplanes. These fuels can significantly cut carbon dioxide emissions from aircraft in use today, helping reduce the severity of climate change.

The work will take research, and investment from governments, manufacturers and airlines around the world, whether or not the U.S. is involved. But one day, the fuel powering your flight could be much greener than it is now.

Li Qiao receives funding from Boeing (subcontract from FAA).

– ref. Inside the search for sustainable aviation fuels, which are on the federal chopping block – https://theconversation.com/inside-the-search-for-sustainable-aviation-fuels-which-are-on-the-federal-chopping-block-254861

Source: The Conversation – USA (3) – By Rami Zeedan, Associate Professor, University of Kansas

Fighting has flared on and off in southern Syria for nearly a month, despite a fragile ceasefire. Violence in July 2025 left more than 1,600 people dead, according to the Syrian Observatory for Human Rights, including at least 166 civilians. The group, which is based in the United Kingdom, also recorded 401 cases of extrajudicial executions by state security forces.

The full extent of the destruction and humanitarian crisis is still emerging in areas around Sweida, a region that’s home to most of the country’s Druze minority. Fighting first flared in mid-July after Bedouins attacked a Druze resident at a checkpoint.

As violence between Druze militias and Bedouin fighters escalated, Syrian forces entered to purportedly calm the tensions. But forces aligned with the Syrian government have been accused of targeting the Druze, including atrocities such as a massacre at a local hospital and executing unarmed civilians. Despite the U.S.-brokered ceasefire, access to Sweida remains restricted, with only limited aid allowed in.

At the core of the conflict lies Syria’s long-standing challenges integrating peripheral regions and minorities, which has proved particularly dangerous for the Druze. Many leaders in the new regime have roots in the extremist Islamic militia Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, or HTS, which grew out of a group affiliated with al-Qaida, prompting concerns that the central government will try to impose its religious and cultural norms.

As Druze studies scholars, we believe the crisis in Sweida encapsulates Syrians’ key challenges: protecting the country’s diversity and balancing regional autonomy with unity.

Ottoman history

The Druze broke off from the Ismaili school of Shiite Islam during the Fatimid Caliphate, an empire that ruled large parts of North Africa and the Middle East.

In the 11th century, the community established a distinct religious identity and today has about 1 million to 1.5 million members. Most live in the Middle East, with smaller diaspora communities around the world. The largest center is in Hawran, an area in present-day southern Syria that includes the city of Sweida.

Many roots of the Druze’s challenges today date back to the Ottoman period – particularly concerns about autonomy. In 1837-1838, the community in Hawran led a rebellion against Muhammad Ali Pasha, the Ottoman governor of Egypt, to resist forced disarmament and conscription.

The nine-month conflict ended with an agreement to exempt the Druze from serving in his military. More broadly, this event showcased Druze commitment to autonomy and self-defense as a way to preserve their identity and defend their religious freedom.

Importantly, the uprising also led to the establishment of the Hajari sheikhdom, the oldest of the Syrian Druze community’s three recognized religious authorities. Sheikh Abu Hussein Ibrahim al-Hajari, who led resistance against Egyptian forces, is the great-grandfather of Sheikh Hikmat Al-Hijri, the current Druze leader seeking autonomy in Syria.

Throughout the late Ottoman period, the Druze continued to resist disarmament and conscription. They managed to maintain significant autonomy well into the 20th century, often ruled by a local Druze emir, and retain the freedom to practice their own faith and culture.

Modern Syrian state

A new challenge to Druze autonomy came after World War I, however. The French gained control of a mandate in present-day Syria and Lebanon and established the autonomous state of Jabal al-Druze. They later imposed direct rule, prompting the Druze to launch an armed rebellion under the leadership of Sultan Pasha al-Atrash, whom many Syrians still revere as a hero.

Though the rebellion began in Sweida, it quickly became a nationwide movement for liberty, unity and independence from the French: the Great Syrian Revolt, which lasted from 1925-27.

The country eventually gained independence in 1946, but the Druze continued to face challenges. In 1949, for example, military officer Adib al-Shishakli seized control of the Syrian government. He accused the Druze of apostasy, treason and collusion with external powers, including Israel. In 1953, Shishakli launched an assault on Sweida and shelled Druze villages, killing about 300 civilians.

Under the Baath regimes, which lasted from 1963-2024, Druze officers were purged from the upper military ranks. The community was politically marginalized, and Druze areas in the south were excluded from economic development, leaving them chronically impoverished.

Syrian civil war

The start of the Syrian civil war, which began in the wake of 2011’s “Arab Spring” protests, put the Druze in a difficult position.

Initially, some had supported Bashar Assad’s regime, hoping it would protect their community from the war. However, they opposed military service. As time went on, the Druze tried to maintain neutrality, embracing the slogan “Syrian blood is forbidden to be shed by Syrians.”

Originally, the many rebel groups fighting Assad’s forces included both secular and Islamic militias. Islamic groups gradually took control of the revolution, however, making the Druze even less compelled to join.

As the war intensified, they held protests for political and economic change. Druze leader Sheikh Wahid al-Balous formed local defense forces called Harakat Rijal Al-Karama, the Men of Dignity, to protect their towns and shelter defecting soldiers, preserving order and some degree of autonomy.

This didn’t shield the Druze from the war’s ravages. Despite the Druze’s nonviolent stance, their communities were targeted at times for their religious identity and refusal to back the regime.

In 2023, amid a deepening economic crisis, the Druze launched a peaceful uprising demanding regime change, economic reform and political freedom.

New government

Assad fled the country in December 2024, and an interim government was put in place under Ahmad al-Sharaa. Many Druze in Sweida deeply distrust al-Sharaa and his associates, however, and are nervous that the new government will rein in their freedoms.

During the war, he led the Islamist militia HTS, which evolved from the al-Qaida affiliate Jabhat al-Nusra. Jabhat al-Nusra was responsible for the Qalb Loze massacre in 2015, which killed about two dozen Druze civilians. Jubhat al-Nusra and the Islamic State group also clashed with Druze communities in Sweida and Hadar, a Druze village in the Syrian portion of the Golan Heights, causing hundreds of deaths.

In January 2025, al-Sharaa vowed to create an inclusive country, calling “all Syrians to participate in building a new homeland.” But the new government has since raised concern among minority communities.

The transitional constitution, for example, grants the president broad powers over the legislature and judiciary branches – and HTS members occupy all key positions in the president’s Cabinet.

After coming to power, al-Sharaa attempted to assert federal control. The government moved to disarm other militias, including Kurd, Alawite and Druze self-defense groups, and sidelined local leaders.

Distrust intensified in March and April as fighters aligned with the new government massacred Alawites in coastal communities. Then, in late April, a fabricated recording of a Druze religious man insulting the Prophet Muhammad incited sectarian violence against Druze towns near Damascus. The accused man denied he had made the recording, and Syria’s Ministry of Interior confirmed it was fake as well. Security forces were deployed to the area, and the violence killed more than 100 Druze fighters and civilians, according to the Syrian Observatory for Human Rights.

The conflict ended with a ceasefire agreement, under which the interim government delegated security in Sweida to local forces and would safeguard the highway to Damascus – the district’s link to the outside world. The agreement also lifted a siege on Druze villages near Damascus and Sweida.

The July conflict, however, was sparked by a Bedouin checkpoint that blocked the same highway, and it escalated when the government deployed armed forces from outside the district – violations of the agreement’s terms.

Look to the future

Al-Hijri, the most prominent of the three Druze clerics in Syria, has been especially critical of the transitional government. He has called for a secular, decentralized Syrian state that guarantees minority rights and their regional autonomy.

To many minority groups, it seems the recent brutality in Alawite, Christian and Druze areas was not intended just to impose the state’s exclusive authority to hold weapons, but also to suppress their democratic aspirations and national participation.

Ultimately, the core issue is the Syrian government’s failure to include and protect all citizens: Druze, Alawites, Christians, Kurds, Bedouins and other Sunni Muslims alike. Without change, we fear the promise of a democratic post-Assad Syria remains hollow and the new regime risks repeating its predecessors’ failures.

What is happening in Sweida is not a local crisis: For Syrians and the international community, we believe, it is a critical test of the country’s future and the region’s stability.

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

– ref. For Syrian Druze, latest violence is one more chapter in a centuries-long struggle over autonomy – https://theconversation.com/for-syrian-druze-latest-violence-is-one-more-chapter-in-a-centuries-long-struggle-over-autonomy-261910

Source: The Conversation – USA (3) – By Wendy Cadge, Professor of Sociology and President, Bryn Mawr College

There is an ongoing push to make chaplains available in public schools across the United States. Chaplains, also called spiritual caregivers, are religious professionals who work in secular institutions and can be of any tradition or none at all.

Indiana is currently considering a bill that would allow chaplains in public schools to provide “support services.” Florida passed a law in 2024 to allow school districts to bring in volunteer chaplains. Texas started to allow public school chaplains in 2023 – the first state to do so.

A poll conducted by the AP-NORC Center asked Americans in June 2025 if they would allow “religious chaplains providing support services for students” in public schools. More than half – 58% – said they would. What is meant by “support services” is unclear.

These debates raise issues about religion in schools and the separation of church and state. But as sociologists of religion studying chaplaincy for over 20 years, we know that most people in the U.S. have never met one and could have widely varying understanding of who chaplains are and the kinds of services they provide.

Have you met a chaplain?

In 2022, the Chaplaincy Innovation Lab, a think tank that we formed to bring chaplains, theological educators, clinical educators and social scientists into conversation about spiritual care, partnered with the Gallup organization to conduct the first national survey that asked Americans about their experience with chaplains. A nationally representative group of 1,096 people took the survey online.

Before we asked people about their experiences with chaplains, we worked with a panel of 28 leading experts in professional chaplaincy to agree on a shared definition: “Clergy or other religious guides or spiritual caregivers who serve people outside of churches or other houses of worship, in settings such as hospitals, the military, prisons, or institutions of higher education, to name a few examples.”

We found that about 18% of American adults – almost 1 in 5 – had interacted with a chaplain based on this definition. We further found that about 68% of those who had met a chaplain did so in health care settings such as hospitals, outpatient clinics and hospices.

Follow-up interviews with 50 of the survey respondents showed that people have a wide range of definitions of the term chaplain – they are rarely thinking the same things. Many people told us about congregational leaders, and almost as many told us about spiritual connections they share with their friends, families and people in their community.

The term chaplain does not have a legal definition in the U.S. at the federal or state level. As a result, anyone can call themselves a chaplain at any time and for any reason. People do not need to have a license, unlike medical professionals, hairdressers, heavy vehicle drivers and others, to call themselves a chaplain.

Training and certification

However, the training requirements for being employed as a chaplain can vary widely across sectors.

Health care organizations generally require that chaplains hold a graduate-level degree from an accredited seminary or divinity school, on-the-job training called clinical pastoral education, and in some cases board certification to demonstrate competency and professionalism.

Federal agencies such as the Department of Defense, the Department of Veterans Affairs and the Federal Bureau of Prisons are required to have chaplains to ensure that service members, veterans and incarcerated people can freely practice their religion.

The educational requirements at each federal agency differ from health care and from each other. Each federal agency outsources the religious training and certification to religious organizations called endorsing agencies or endorsers. To preserve the separation of church and state, it is these religious endorsing agencies, not the government, that decide whether a given person is qualified and prepared to be a chaplain.

Role of chaplains

Chaplains in health care work with patients, family members and caregivers; they also provide spiritual care to their fellow employees. Military chaplains have similar duties but also advocate for the rights of service members to freely practice their religion. College and university chaplains increasingly serve secular campuses by providing spiritual care to those who need it, as well as ethical guidance and volunteer service opportunities to all students.

Additionally, chaplains have worked with everyone from homeless people in Denver to protesters in Atlanta, urban cyclists in Boston and NASCAR drivers and fans – groups that can have very different spiritual needs.

As chaplains have frequently told us, every day is an improvisation.

Schools and chaplaincy

Several states are moving forward with adding chaplains to public schools, and to our knowledge none are focused on the education or training that other settings require of professional chaplains.

According to Indiana’s Senate Bill 523, a chaplain can be anyone with either a bachelor’s or master’s degree in “divinity, theology, religious studies or a related field” and two to four years of “counseling experience.”

Training in chaplaincy is not required, nor are counseling credentials. People who are hired as school counselors in Indiana must be licensed – but there is no such thing as a chaplaincy license.

Florida did not define chaplains when it passed House Bill 931 to bring in volunteer chaplains. No requirements for the chaplains were set, other than a background check.

What this means is that school chaplain positions would likely draw people without formal training. People who will work in schools might not be trained chaplains or professional chaplains – just people who call themselves a chaplain. And that, we believe, would be an extremely troubling trend.

Given the nuances of a chaplain’s role and qualifications, it’s hard to really assess what people want or mean when 58% of people say they support chaplains in public schools.

Wendy Cadge receives funding from the Templeton Religion Trust

Amy Lawton receives funding from the Templeton Religion Trust.

– ref. Schools are looking for chaplains, but the understanding of who – and what – chaplains are varies widely – https://theconversation.com/schools-are-looking-for-chaplains-but-the-understanding-of-who-and-what-chaplains-are-varies-widely-261440