Iran emerged weakened and vulnerable after war with Israel − and that could mean trouble for country’s ethnic minorities

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Shukriya Bradost, Ph.D. Student of Planning, Governance and Globalization, Virginia Tech

Iranians celebrate the ceasefire in downtown Tehran, but many blame their own leaders for the escalation. Morteza Nikoubazl/NurPhoto via Getty Images

The 12-day confrontation between Iran and Israel in June 2025 may not have escalated into a full-scale regional war, but it marks a potentially critical turning point in Iran’s internal political landscape.

Though the Islamic Republic has entered into direct conflict with a foreign adversary before, it has never done so while so militarily weakened, internally fractured and increasingly alienated from its own population.

And unlike the Iran-Iraq war of the 1980s, when national unity coalesced around the defense of Iranian sovereignty, this time the government appeared to fight without significant public support. While accurate polling from within Iran is hard to come by, the lack of pro-government rallies, the low approval numbers for the government ahead of the war and the government’s subsequent crackdown since tell their own stories.

As a researcher of different ethnic groups within the country, I know that many Iranians – especially those from historically marginalized communities – viewed the conflict with Israel not as a defense of the nation but as a reckless consequence of the government’s ideological adventurism and regional proxy campaigns. It puts the Islamic Republic in its most vulnerable position since its establishment after the Iranian Revolution in 1979.

Hard and soft power diminished

It is worth taking a snapshot of just how diminished the Iranian government is following the recent series of blows.

Its soft power – once built on revolutionary legitimacy, Shiite ideological influence and anti-Western propaganda – has eroded dramatically.

For decades, the Islamic Republic relied on a powerful narrative: that it was the only government bold enough to confront the United States and Israel, defend Muslim causes globally and serve as the spiritual leader of the Islamic world. This image, projected through state media, proxy militias and religious rhetoric, helped the government justify its foreign interventions and massive military spending, particularly on nuclear development and regional militias.

But that narrative no longer resonates the way it once did. The leaders of Iran can no longer claim to inspire unity at home or fear abroad. Even among Shiite populations in Lebanon, Iraq and Yemen, support during the Israel-Iran confrontation was muted. Inside Iran, meanwhile, propaganda portraying Israel as the existential enemy has lost its grip, especially among the youth, who increasingly identify with human rights movements rather than government slogans.

It is also clear that Iran’s hard power is getting weaker. The loss of senior commanders and the destruction of important military infrastructure have shown that the government’s intelligence and security systems are severely compromised.

Even before Israel’s attack, a number of reports showed that Iran’s military was in its weakest state in decades. The real surprise in the recent war came not from the scale of the damage by Israeli and U.S. bombs but from how deeply Israel had penetrated the upper echelons of the Iranian military and intelligence sectors. The recent conflict amounted to a security as well as a military failure.

Externally defeated, internally adrift

As its power across the region appears diminished, so too is the Iranian government’s grip loosening internally. A 2024 survey by Iran’s Ministry of Culture revealed “discontent” among the population, with over 90% of Iranians “dissatisfied” with the country’s current position. Elections in November 2024 saw a turnout of under 40%, further underscoring Iranians’ discontent with the political process.

And reporting from inside Iran suggests many Iranians blame government policies for the war with Israel. “I place the blame on this country’s decision-makers,” one resident of Rasht told Reuters, “their policies have brought war and destruction upon us.”

The government has responded with a tactic it has used before: repression. According to government-aligned media, over 700 people were arrested during and immediately after the conflict, accused of collaborating with the Mossad, the Israeli intelligence agency.

As in past crackdowns, ethnic minority regions – particularly Kurdish areas – have been targeted.

One day after the ceasefire with Israel, the government executed three Kurdish cross-border laborers who rely on smuggling goods to survive in Iran’s underdeveloped Kurdish provinces.

These executions, which were done without a trial or legal counsel, fit a pattern of how the government uses ethnic scapegoating to stay in power. And it echoes a historic pattern: When the government feels threatened, it strikes the Kurds first.

A historical pattern of repression

Kurds are estimated to number 10-12 million in Iran, composing roughly 12% to 15% of the country’s total population – making them the third-largest ethnic group after Persians and Azeris. Iran also includes significant Baluch and Arab minorities.

When the Islamic Republic was established in 1979, many ethnic groups supported the revolution. They hoped for a more inclusive and democratic Iran than what preceded it – the brutal autocracy of the shah that had frequently targeted minorities.

Those hopes were quickly dashed. By rejecting pluralism and promoting a unifying ideology centered on Shiite Islam and Persian identity, Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini marginalized non-Persian and non-Shiite groups.

Other ethnic groups were viewed with suspicion, while Shiite Azerbaijanis were mainly co-opted into the system.

Khomeini declared jihad against Kurdish resistance groups, labeling them infidels, separatists and agents of Israel and the United States.

Armed with advanced weaponry inherited from the last Pahlavi shah, the government launched a military campaign in Kurdistan province. Many Kurdish villages and towns were destroyed, and approximately 50,000 Iranian Kurds were killed between 1979 and 1988.

The region was turned into a militarized zone – a status that continues today.

Campaign against Kurds

After the Iran-Iraq war ended in August 1988, the government – economically strained and militarily weakened – feared a domestic uprising.

But instead of embracing political reform, it responded with one of the most brutal crackdowns in Iran’s history. Khomeini issued a fatwa, or religious edict, ordering the execution of political prisoners, including large numbers of Kurdish dissidents.

Between late July and September 1988, thousands of political prisoners were executed – many without trial or any legal process. At least 5,000 people were killed and buried in unmarked mass graves, according to Amnesty International.

Khomeini labeled them “mohareb,” or “warriors against God,” and criticized the Revolutionary Courts for not sentencing them to death sooner. This mass execution campaign signaled the government’s resolve to eliminate all dissent, regardless of legal precedent or human rights norms.

In the years that followed, the government systematically assassinated prominent Kurdish leaders and other opposition leaders, both in Iran and overseas.

This targeted elimination of Kurdish leadership, combined with the mass executions of political prisoners, was a deliberate strategy to decapitate any organized opposition before it could challenge the government’s survival.

A new crisis, the same strategy

The Islamic Republic appears to be using the same playbook now, but under far more fragile conditions.

Given the precarious state of the government, it is fair to ask why there are not more protests now, especially in ethnic minority regions. For many, the answer is fear over what happens next.

Many Kurds have learned from previous uprisings – particularly the 2022 “Women, Life, Freedom” movement – that when they lead protests, they face the harshest crackdown. Over 56% of those killed and persecuted in the subsequent crackdown were Kurds.

Meanwhile, the overall opposition remains fractured and leaderless, both along ethnic lines and in terms of goals. The main opposition groups have traditionally been reluctant to acknowledge ethnic rights, let alone include them in any vision for a future Iran. Rather, they insist on “territorial integrity” as a precondition for any dialogue, echoing the Islamic Republic’s rhetoric.

This is a key legacy of the Islamic Republic: Its propaganda has not only shaped domestic opinion but also influenced the opposition, dividing Iranians at home and abroad. And it has long mobilized the dominant ethnic group against minorities, especially Kurds, by portraying them as internal enemies.

The Conversation

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

ref. Iran emerged weakened and vulnerable after war with Israel − and that could mean trouble for country’s ethnic minorities – https://theconversation.com/iran-emerged-weakened-and-vulnerable-after-war-with-israel-and-that-could-mean-trouble-for-countrys-ethnic-minorities-259753

Mr Smith or Gary? Why some teachers ask students to call them by their first name

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Nicole Brownlie, Lecturer in Education, University of Southern Queensland

Johnny Greig/ Getty Images

When you went to school, did you call your teacher Mrs, Ms or Mr, followed by their surname? Perhaps you even called them Sir or Miss.

The tradition of addressing teachers in a formal manner goes back centuries. For many of us, calling a teacher by their first name would have been unthinkable.

But that’s not automatically the case anymore. Some teachers in mainstream schools now ask students to call them by their first name.

Why is this? And what impact can teachers’ names have in the classroom?

There’s no rule

There’s no official rule in Australia on what students should call teachers.
Naming is usually decided by schools or individual teachers. This is no official training on this topic before teachers start in classrooms.

Some primary school teachers now use first names or a less formal name such as “Mr D”. Teachers say this helps break down barriers, especially for young students or those who are learning English as an additional language.

High schools are more likely to stick with tradition, partly to maintain structure and boundaries, especially with teenagers. Using formal titles can also support early-career teachers or those from minority
backgrounds
assert their authority in a classroom.

But even so, some high school teachers are using their first names to foster a sense of trust and encourage students to see them as a partner in learning, rather than simply an authority figure.

What does the research say?

Research – which is mainly from the United States – suggests names have an impact on how students perceive their teachers and feel about school.

In one study of US high school students, teenagers described teachers they addressed with formal titles as more distant and harder to connect with. Teachers who invited students to use their first name were seen as more supportive, approachable and trustworthy.

A secondary school principal in the state of Maryland reported students felt more included and respected when they could use teachers’ first names. It made classrooms feel less hierarchical and more collaborative.

A 2020 US study on teaching students doing practical placements found those who used their first name observed greater student engagement than those who did not. This came as a surprise to the student teachers who expected students would not respect them if they used their first names.

These findings don’t necessarily mean titles are bad. Rather, they show first names can support stronger teacher-student relationships.

It’s important to note society in general has become less formal in recent decades in terms of how we address and refer to each other.

So, what should students call their teachers?

What works in one school, or even one classroom, may not work in another.

For example, for Indigenous students or students from non-English speaking households, name practices that show cultural respect and mutual choice can be vital. They help create a sense of safety and inclusion.

But for other teachers, being called by their title may be a key part of their professional persona.

That’s why it’s important for naming decisions to be thoughtful and based on the needs of the teacher, students and broader school community.

The key is to treat naming as part of the broader relationship, not just a habit or automatic tradition. Whether students say “Mrs Lee” or “Jess” matters less than whether they feel safe, respected and included. It’s about the tone and relationship behind the name, not simply what someone is called.

The Conversation

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

ref. Mr Smith or Gary? Why some teachers ask students to call them by their first name – https://theconversation.com/mr-smith-or-gary-why-some-teachers-ask-students-to-call-them-by-their-first-name-259790

A strange bright burst in space baffled astronomers for more than a year. Now, they’ve solved the mystery

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Clancy William James, Senior Lecturer (astronomy and astroparticle physics), Curtin University

CSIRO’s ASKAP radio telescope on Wajarri Country. © Alex Cherney/CSIRO

Around midday on June 13 last year, my colleagues and I were scanning the skies when we thought we had discovered a strange and exciting new object in space. Using a huge radio telescope, we spotted a blindingly fast flash of radio waves that appeared to be coming from somewhere inside our galaxy.

After a year of research and analysis, we have finally pinned down the source of the signal – and it was even closer to home than we had ever expected.

A surprise in the desert

Our instrument was located at Inyarrimanha Ilgari Bundara, the CSIRO Murchison Radio-astronomy Observatory in remote Western Australia, where the sky above the red desert plains is vast and sublime.

We were using a new detector at the radio telescope known as the Australian Square Kilometre Array Pathfinder – or ASKAP – to search for rare flickering signals from distant galaxies called fast radio bursts.

We detected a burst. Surprisingly, it showed no evidence of a time delay between high and low frequencies – a phenomenon known as “dispersion”.

This meant it must have originated within a few hundred light years of Earth. In other words, it must have come from inside our galaxy – unlike other fast radio bursts which have come from billions of light years away.

A problem emerges

Fast radio bursts are the brightest radio flashes in the Universe, emitting 30 years’ worth of the Sun’s energy in less than a millisecond – and we only have hints of how they are produced.

Some theories suggest they are produced by “magnetars” – the highly magnetised cores of massive, dead stars – or arise from cosmic collisions between these dead stellar remnants. Regardless of how they occur, fast radio bursts are also a precise instrument for mapping out the so-called “missing matter” in our Universe.

When we went back over our recordings to take a closer a look at the radio burst, we had a surprise: the signal seemed to have disappeared. Two months of trial and error went by, until the problem was found.

ASKAP is composed of 36 antennas, which can be combined to act like one gigantic zoom lens six kilometres across. Just like a zoom lens on a camera, if you try to take a picture of something too close, it comes out blurry. Only by removing some of the antennas from the analysis – artificially reducing the size of our “lens” – did we finally make an image of the burst.

We weren’t excited by this – in fact, we were disappointed. No astronomical signal could be close enough to cause this blurring.

This meant it was probably just radio-frequency “interference” – an astronomer’s term for human-made signals that corrupt our data.

It’s the kind of junk data we’d normally throw away.

Yet the burst had us intrigued. For one thing, this burst was fast. The fastest known fast radio burst lasted about 10 millionths of a second. This burst consisted of an extremely bright pulse lasting a few billionths of a second, and two dimmer after-pulses, for a total duration of 30 nanoseconds.

So where did this amazingly short, bright burst come from?

A white graph with a blue line that spikes suddenly.
The radio burst we detected, lasting merely 30 nanoseconds.
Clancy W. James

A zombie in space?

We already knew the direction it came from, and we were able to use the blurriness in the image to estimate a distance of 4,500 km. And there was only one thing in that direction, at that distance, at that time – a derelict 60-year-old satellite called Relay 2.

Relay 2 was one of the first ever telecommunications satellites. Launched by the United States in 1964, it was operated until 1965, and its onboard systems had failed by 1967.

But how could Relay 2 have produced this burst?

Some satellites, presumed dead, have been observed to reawaken. They are known as “zombie satellites”.

But this was no zombie. No system on board Relay 2 had ever been able to produce a nanosecond burst of radio waves, even when it was alive.

We think the most likely cause was an “electrostatic discharge”. As satellites are exposed to electrically charged gases in space known as plasmas, they can become charged – just like when your feet rub on carpet. And that accumulated charge can suddenly discharge, with the resulting spark causing a flash of radio waves.

Electrostatic discharges are common, and are known to cause damage to spacecraft. Yet all known electrostatic discharges last thousands of times longer than our signal, and occur most commonly when the Earth’s magnetosphere is highly active. And our magnetosphere was unusually quiet at the time of the signal.

Another possibility is a strike by a micrometeoroid – a tiny piece of space debris – similar to that experienced by the James Webb Space Telescope in June 2022.

According to our calculations, a 22 micro-gram micrometeoroid travelling at 20km per second or more and hitting Relay 2 would have been able to produce such a strong flash of radio waves. But we estimate the chance the nanosecond burst we detected was caused by such an event to be about 1%.

Plenty more sparks in the sky

Ultimately, we can’t be certain why we saw this signal from Relay 2. What we do know, however, is how to see more of them. When looking at 13.8 millisecond timescales – the equivalent of keeping the camera shutter open for longer – this signal was washed out, and barely detectable even to a powerful radio telescope such as ASKAP.

But if we had searched at 13.8 nanoseconds, any old radio antenna would have easily seen it. It shows us that monitoring satellites for electrostatic discharges with ground-based radio antennas is possible. And with the number of satellites in orbit growing rapidly, finding new ways to monitor them is more important than ever.

But did our team eventually find new astronomical signals? You bet we did. And there are no doubt plenty more to be found.

The Conversation

Clancy William James receives funding from the Australian Research Council.

ref. A strange bright burst in space baffled astronomers for more than a year. Now, they’ve solved the mystery – https://theconversation.com/a-strange-bright-burst-in-space-baffled-astronomers-for-more-than-a-year-now-theyve-solved-the-mystery-259893

Celebrities, blue jeans and couture: how Anna Wintour changed fashion over 37 years at Vogue

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Jye Marshall, Lecturer, Fashion Design, School of Design and Architecture, Swinburne University of Technology

After 37 years at the helm, fashion industry heavyweight Anna Wintour is stepping down from her position as editor-in-chief of American Vogue.

It’s not a retirement, though, as Wintour will maintain a leadership position at global fashion and lifestyle publisher Condé Nast (the owner of Vogue and other publications, such as Vanity Fair and Glamour).

Nonetheless, Wintour’s departure from the US edition of the magazine is a big moment for the fashion industry – one which she has single-handedly changed forever.

Fashion mag fever

Fashion magazines as we know them today were first formalised in the 19th century. They helped establish the “trickle down theory” of fashion, wherein trends were traditionally dictated by certain industry elites, including major magazine editors.

In Australia, getting your hands on a monthly issue meant rare exposure to the latest European or American fashion trends.

Vogue itself was established in New York in 1892 by businessman Arthur Baldwin Turnure. The magazine targeted the city’s elite class, initially covering various aspects of high-society life. In 1909, Vogue was acquired by Condé Nast. From then, the magazine increasingly cemented itself as a cornerstone of the fashion publishing.

Cover of a 1921 edition of Vogue.
Wikimedia, CC BY

The period following the second world war particularly opened the doors to mass fashion consumerism and an expanding fashion magazine culture.

Wintour came on as editor of Vogue in 1988, at which point the magazine became less conservative, and more culturally significant.

Not afraid to break the mould

Fashion publishing changed as a result of Wintour’s bold editorial choices – especially when it came to the magazine’s covers. Her choices both reflected, and dictated, shifts in fashion culture.

Wintour’s first cover at Vogue, published in 1988, mixed couture garments (Christian Lacroix) with mainstream brands (stonewashed Guess jeans) – something which had never been done before. It was also the first time a Vogue cover had featured jeans at all – perfectly setting the scene for a long career spent pushing the magazine into new domains.

Wintour also pioneered the centring of celebrities (rather than just models) within fashion discourse. And while she leveraged big names such as Beyonce, Madonna, Nicole Kidman, Kate Moss, Michelle Obama and Oprah Winfrey, she also featured rising stars as cover models – often helping propel their careers in the process.

Wintour’s legacy at Vogue involved elevating fashion from a frivolous runway to a powerful industry, which is not scared to make a statement. Nowhere is this truer than at the Met Gala, which is held each year to celebrate the opening of a new fashion exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute.

The event started as a simple fundraiser for the Met in 1948, before being linked to a fashion exhibit for the first time in 1974.

Wintour took over its organisation in 1995. Her focus on securing exclusive celebrity guests helped propel it to the prestigious event it is today.

This year’s theme for the event was Superfine: Tailoring Black Style. In a time where the US faces great political instability, Wintour was celebrated for her role in helping elevate Black history through the event.

Not without controversy

However, while her cultural influence can’t be doubted, Wintour’s legacy at American Vogue is not without fault.

Notably, her ongoing feud with animal rights organisation PETA – due to the her unwavering support for fur – has bubbled in the background since the heydays of the anti-fur movement.

Wintour has been targeted directly by anti-fur activists, both physically (she was hit with a tofu cream pie in 2005 while leaving a Chloe show) and through numerous protests.

This issue was never resolved. Vogue has continued to showcase and feature fur clothing, even as the social license for using animal materials starts to run out.

Fashion continues to grow increasingly political. How magazines such as Vogue will engage with this shift remains to be seen.

A changing media landscape

The rise of fashion blogging in recent decades has led to a wave of fashion influencers, with throngs of followers, who are challenging the unidirectional “trickle-down” structure of the fashion industry.

Today, social media platforms have overtaken traditional media influence both within and outside of fashion. And with this, the power of fashion editors such as Wintour is diminishing significantly.

Many words will flow regarding Wintour’s departure as editor-in-chief, but nowhere near as many as what she oversaw at the helm of the world’s biggest fashion magazine.

The Conversation

Rachel Lamarche-Beauchesne has been affiliated with the Animal Justice Party.

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

ref. Celebrities, blue jeans and couture: how Anna Wintour changed fashion over 37 years at Vogue – https://theconversation.com/celebrities-blue-jeans-and-couture-how-anna-wintour-changed-fashion-over-37-years-at-vogue-259989

1 in 3 Tuvaluans is bidding for a new ‘climate visa’ to Australia – here’s why everyone may ultimately end up applying

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Jane McAdam, Scientia Professor and ARC Laureate Fellow, Kaldor Centre for International Refugee Law, UNSW Sydney

Photo by Fiona Goodall/Getty Images for Lumix

In just four days, one-third of the population of Tuvalu entered a ballot for a new permanent visa to Australia.

This world-first visa will enable up to 280 Tuvaluans to move permanently to Australia each year, from a current population of about 10,000. The visa is open to anyone who wants to work, study or live in Australia. Unlike other visa schemes for Pacific peoples, a job offer in Australia is not required.

While the visa itself doesn’t mention climate change, the treaty that created it is framed in the context of the “existential threat posed by climate change”. That’s why when it was announced, I described it as the world’s first bilateral agreement on climate mobility.

The Australian government, too, has called it “the first agreement of its kind anywhere in the world, providing a pathway for mobility with dignity as climate impacts worsen”.

The high number of ballot applications may come as a surprise to many, especially given there were multiple concerns within Tuvalu when the treaty was first announced. Even so, some analysts predicted all Tuvaluans would apply eventually, to keep their options open.

An aerial image of the airstrip alongside homes in the small, narrow country of Tuvalu.
Tuvalu is one of the world’s smallest countries, covering just 26 square kilometres.
Hao Hsiang Chen, Shutterstock

Grabbing the chance

The visa highlights the importance of creating opportunities for people to move in the context of climate change and disasters. The dangers of rising sea levels are clearly apparent, including coastal flooding, storm damage and water supplies. But there is a lot more at play here.

For many, especially young families, this will be seen as a chance for education and skills training in Australia. Giving people choices about if, when and where they move is empowering and enables them to make informed decisions about their own lives.

For the government of Tuvalu, the new visa is also about shoring up the economy. Migration is now a structural component of many Pacific countries’ economies.

The money migrants send back to their home countries to support their families and communities is known as remittances. In 2023, remittances comprised 28% of GDP in Samoa and nearly 42% of GDP in Tonga – the highest in the world. Currently, Tuvalu sits at 3.2%.

A long time coming

Well before climate change became an issue of concern, Tuvalu had been lobbying Australia for special visa pathways. Demographic pressures, combined with limited livelihood and educational opportunities, made it a live policy issue throughout the 1980s and ‘90s. In 1984, a review of Australia’s foreign aid program suggested improved migration opportunities for Tuvaluans may be the most useful form of assistance.

By the early 2000s, the focus had shifted to the existential threats posed by climate change. In 2006, as then-shadow environment minister, Anthony Albanese released a policy discussion paper called Our Drowning Neighbours. It proposed that Australia create Pacific migration pathways as part of a neighbourly response. In 2009, a spokesperson for Penny Wong, then minister for climate change, stated permanent migration might eventually be the only option for some Pacific peoples.

When combined with other Pacific pathways to Australia and New Zealand, nearly 4% of the population could migrate each year. This is “an extraordinarily high level”, according to one expert. Within a decade, close to 40% of the population could have moved – although some people may return home or go backwards and forwards.

How will the new arrivals be received?

The real test of the new visa’s success will be how people are treated when they arrive in Australia.

Will they be helped to adjust to life here, or will they feel isolated and shut out? Will they be able to find work and training, or will they find themselves in insecure and uncertain circumstances? Will they feel a loss of cultural connection, or will they be able to maintain cultural traditions within the growing Tuvaluan diaspora?

Ensuring sound and culturally appropriate settlement services are in place will be crucial. These would ideally be co-developed with members of the Tuvaluan community, to “centralise Tuvaluan culture and values, in order to ensure ongoing dialogue and trust”.

It has been suggested by experts that a “liaison officer with Tuvaluan cultural expertise and language skills could assist in facilitating activities such as post-arrival programs”, for instance.

Learning from experience

There are also many important lessons to be learned from the migration of Tuvaluans to New Zealand, to reduce the risk of newcomers experiencing economic and social hardship.

Ongoing monitoring and refinement of the scheme will also be key. It should involve the Tuvaluan diaspora, communities back in Tuvalu, service providers in Australia, as well as federal, state/territory and local governments.

By freeing up resources and alleviating stress on what is already a fragile atoll environment, migration may enable some people to remain in Tuvalu for longer, supported by remittances and extended family networks abroad.

As some experts have suggested, money sent home from overseas could be used to make families less vulnerable to climate change. It might help them buy rainwater tanks or small boats, or improve internet and other communications. Remittances are also beneficial when they are invested in services that lift the level of education of children or boost social capital.

Australia is offering ‘climate visas’ to 280 residents of Tuvalu (10 News First)

Delaying a mass exodus

It is difficult to know when a tipping point might be reached. For instance, some have warned that if too few people remain in Tuvalu, this could constrain development by limiting the availability of labour and skills. A former president of Kiribati, Teburoro Tito, once told me migration was “a double-edged sword”. While it could help people secure employment overseas and remit money, “the local economy, the local setup, also has to have enough skilled people” – otherwise it’s counterproductive.

With visas capped at 280 a year – and scope to adjust the numbers if concerns arise – we are still a long way from that point. Right now, the new visa provides a safety net to ensure people have choices about how they respond to climate change. With the visa ballot open until July 18, many more people may yet apply.




Read more:
Fresh details emerge on Australia’s new climate migration visa for Tuvalu residents. An expert explains


The Conversation

Jane McAdam receives funding from the Australian Research Council (ARC) and is the Director of the ARC Evacuations Research Hub at the Kaldor Centre for International Refugee Law, UNSW Sydney.

ref. 1 in 3 Tuvaluans is bidding for a new ‘climate visa’ to Australia – here’s why everyone may ultimately end up applying – https://theconversation.com/1-in-3-tuvaluans-is-bidding-for-a-new-climate-visa-to-australia-heres-why-everyone-may-ultimately-end-up-applying-259990

Streaming giants have helped bring Korean dramas to the world – but much is lost in translation

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Sung-Ae Lee, Lecturer, Macquarie University

In less than a decade, Korean TV dramas (K-dramas) have transmuted from a regional industry to a global phenomenon – partly a consequence of the rise of streaming giants.

But foreign audiences may not realise the K-dramas they’ve seen on Netflix don’t accurately represent the broader Korean TV landscape, which is much wider and richer than these select offerings.

At the same time, there are many challenges in bringing this wide array of content to the rest of the world.

The rise of hallyu

Korean media was transformed during the 1990s. The end of military dictatorship led to the gradual relaxation of censorship.

Satellite media also allowed the export of K-dramas and films to the rest of East Asia, and parts of Southeast Asia. Some of the first K-dramas to become popular overseas included What Is Love (1991–92) and Star in My Heart (1997). They initiated what would later become known as the Korean wave, or hallyu.

The hallyu expansion continued with Winter Sonata (2003), which attracted viewers in Japan, Malaysia and Indonesia. Dae Jang Geum/Jewel in the Palace (2005) resonated strongly in Chinese-speaking regions, and was ultimately exported to more than 80 countries.

A breakthrough occurred in 2016. Netflix entered South Korea and began investing in Korean productions, beginning with Kingdom (2019–21) and Love Alarm (2019–21).

In 2021, the global hit Squid Game was released simultaneously in 190 countries.

But Netflix only scratches the surface

Last year, only 20% of new K-drama releases were available on Western streaming platforms. This means global discussions about K-dramas are based on a limited subgroup of content promoted to viewers outside South Korea.

Moreover, foreign viewers will generally evaluate this content based on Western conceptions of culture and narrative. They may, for instance, have Western preferences for genre and themes, or may disregard locally-specific contexts.

This is partly why Korean and foreign audiences can end up with very different ideas of what “Korean” television is.

Genres

When a K-drama is classified as a sageuk (historical drama) but also incorporates elements of fantasy, mythology, romance, melodrama, crime fiction and/or comedy, foreign audiences may dismiss it as “genre-confused”. Or, they may praise it for its “genre-blending”.

But the drama may not have been created with much attention to genre at all. The highly inventive world-building of pre-Netflix dramas such as Arang and the Magistrate (2012) and Guardian: The Lonely and Great God (2016) prominently feature all the aforementioned genres.

While foreign viewers may think visual media begins with readily identifiable genres, many K-dramas aren’t produced on this premise.

Themes

Western viewers (and other viewers watching through a Western lens) might assume “liberal” themes such as systemic injustice, women’s rights and collusion in politics entered K-dramas as a result of Western influence. But this is a misconception.

The emergence of such themes can be attributed to various changes in Korean society, including the easing of censorship, rapid modernisation, and the imposition of neoliberal economics by the International Monetary Fund in 1997.

Although gender disparities still exist in South Korea, economic uncertainty and modernisation have prompted a deconstruction of patriarchal value systems. Female-centred K-dramas have been around since at least the mid-2000s, with women’s independence as a recurring theme in more recent dramas.

Local contexts

A major barrier to exporting K-dramas is the cultural specificity of certain elements, such as Confucian values, hierarchical family dynamics, gender codes, and Korean speech codes.

The global success of a K-drama comes down to how well its culturally-specific elements can be adapted for different contexts and audiences.

In some cases, these elements may be minimised, or entirely missed, by foreign viewers.

For example, in Squid Game, the words spoken by the killer doll in the first game are subtitled as “green light, red light”. What the doll actually says is “mugunghwa-kkochi pieot-seumnida”, which is also what the game is called in Korean.

This translates to “the mugunghwa (Rose of Saron) has bloomed”, with mugunghwa being South Korea’s national flower.

These words, in this context, are meant to ironically redefine South Korea as a site of hopelessness and death. But the subtitles erase this double meaning.

It’s also difficult for subtitles to reflect nuanced Korean honorific systems of address. As such, foreign viewers remain largely oblivious to the subtle power dynamics at play between characters.

All of this leads to a kind of cultural “flattening”, shifting foreign viewers’ focus to so-called universal themes.

A case study for global success

Nevertheless, foreign viewers can still engage with many culturally-specific elements in K-dramas, which can also serve as cultural literacy.

The hugely successful series Extraordinary Attorney Woo (2022) explores the personal and professional challenges faced by an autistic lawyer.

Director Yoo In-sik described the series as distinctly Korean in both its humour and the legal system it portrays, and said he didn’t anticipate its widespread popularity.

Following success in South Korea, the series was acquired by Netflix and quickly entered the top 10 most popular non-English language shows.

The global appeal can be attributed to its sensitive portrayal of the protagonist, the problem-solving theme across episodes, and what Yoo describes as a kind and considerate tone. Viewers who resonate with these qualities may not even need to engage with the Korean elements.

Many K-dramas that achieve global success also feature elements typically considered “Western”, such as zombies.

While the overall number of zombie-themed productions is low, series and films such as Kingdom (2019–21), All of Us Are Dead (2022), Alive (2020) and Train to Busan (2016) have helped put Korean content on the map.

One potential effect of the zombie popularity may be the displacement of Korean mythological characters, such as fox spirits, or gumiho, which have traditionally held significant narrative space.

Shin Min-ah and Lee Seung-gi star in the acclaimed romantic comedy series My Girlfriend is a Gumiho (2010).
IMDB

Local production under threat

The influence of streaming giants such as Netflix is impacting South Korea’s local production systems.

One consequence has been a substantial increase in production costs, which local companies can’t compete with.

The early vision of low-cost, high-return projects such as Squid Game is rapidly diminishing.

Meanwhile, Netflix is exploring other locations, such as Japan, where dramas can be produced for about half the price of those in Korea. If this continues, the rise of Korean content may slow down.

The Conversation

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

ref. Streaming giants have helped bring Korean dramas to the world – but much is lost in translation – https://theconversation.com/streaming-giants-have-helped-bring-korean-dramas-to-the-world-but-much-is-lost-in-translation-257547

Earth is trapping much more heat than climate models forecast – and the rate has doubled in 20 years

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Steven Sherwood, Professor of Atmospheric Sciences, Climate Change Research Centre, UNSW Sydney

NASA, CC BY-NC-ND

How do you measure climate change? One way is by recording temperatures in different places over a long period of time. While this works well, natural variation can make it harder to see longer-term trends.

But another approach can give us a very clear sense of what’s going on: track how much heat enters Earth’s atmosphere and how much heat leaves. This is Earth’s energy budget, and it’s now well and truly out of balance.

Our recent research found this imbalance has more than doubled over the last 20 years. Other researchers have come to the same conclusions. This imbalance is now substantially more than climate models have suggested.

In the mid-2000s, the energy imbalance was about 0.6 watts per square metre (W/m2) on average. In recent years, the average was about 1.3 W/m2. This means the rate at which energy is accumulating near the planet’s surface has doubled.

These findings suggest climate change might well accelerate in the coming years. Worse still, this worrying imbalance is emerging even as funding uncertainty in the United States threatens our ability to track the flows of heat.

Energy in, energy out

Earth’s energy budget functions a bit like your bank account, where money comes in and money goes out. If you reduce your spending, you’ll build up cash in your account. Here, energy is the currency.

Life on Earth depends on a balance between heat coming in from the Sun and heat leaving. This balance is tipping to one side.

Solar energy hits Earth and warms it. The atmosphere’s heat-trapping greenhouse gases keep some of this energy.

But the burning of coal, oil and gas has now added more than two trillion tonnes of carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases to the atmosphere. These trap more and more heat, preventing it from leaving.

Some of this extra heat is warming the land or melting sea ice, glaciers and ice sheets. But this is a tiny fraction. Fully 90% has gone into the oceans due to their huge heat capacity.

Earth naturally sheds heat in several ways. One way is by reflecting incoming heat off of clouds, snow and ice and back out to space. Infrared radiation is also emitted back to space.

From the beginning of human civilisation up until just a century ago, the average surface temperature was about 14°C. The accumulating energy imbalance has now pushed average temperatures 1.3-1.5°C higher.

icebergs from glacier.
Ice and reflective clouds reflect heat back to space. As the Earth heats up, most trapped heat goes into the oceans but some melts ice and heats the land and air. Pictured: Icebergs from the Jacobshavn glacier in Greenland, the largest outside Antarctica.
Ashley Cooper/Getty

Tracking faster than the models

Scientists keep track of the energy budget in two ways.

First, we can directly measure the heat coming from the Sun and going back out to space, using the sensitive radiometers on monitoring satellites. This dataset and its predecessors date back to the late 1980s.

Second, we can accurately track the build-up of heat in the oceans and atmosphere by taking temperature readings. Thousands of robotic floats have monitored temperatures in the world’s oceans since the 1990s.

Both methods show the energy imbalance has grown rapidly.

The doubling of the energy imbalance has come as a shock, because the sophisticated climate models we use largely didn’t predict such a large and rapid change.

Typically, the models forecast less than half of the change we’re seeing in the real world.

Why has it changed so fast?

We don’t yet have a full explanation. But new research suggests changes in clouds is a big factor.

Clouds have a cooling effect overall. But the area covered by highly reflective white clouds has shrunk, while the area of jumbled, less reflective clouds has grown.

It isn’t clear why the clouds are changing. One possible factor could be the consequences of successful efforts to reduce sulfur in shipping fuel from 2020, as burning the dirtier fuel may have had a brightening effect on clouds. However, the accelerating energy budget imbalance began before this change.

Natural fluctuations in the climate system such as the Pacific Decadal Oscillation might also be playing a role. Finally – and most worryingly – the cloud changes might be part of a trend caused by global warming itself, that is, a positive feedback on climate change.

fluffy white clouds.
Dense blankets of white clouds reflect the most heat. But the area covered by these clouds is shrinking.
Adhivaswut/Shutterstock

What does this mean?

These findings suggest recent extremely hot years are not one-offs but may reflect a strengthening of warming over the coming decade or longer.

This will mean a higher chance of more intense climate impacts from searing heatwaves, droughts and extreme rains on land, and more intense and long lasting marine heatwaves.

This imbalance may lead to worse longer-term consequences. New research shows the only climate models coming close to simulating real world measurements are those with a higher “climate sensitivity”. That means these models predict more severe warming beyond the next few decades in scenarios where emissions are not rapidly reduced.

We don’t know yet whether other factors are at play, however. It’s still too early to definitively say we are on a high-sensitivity trajectory.

Our eyes in the sky

We’ve known the solution for a long time: stop the routine burning of fossil fuels and phase out human activities causing emissions such as deforestation.

Keeping accurate records over long periods of time is essential if we are to spot unexpected changes.

Satellites, in particular, are our advance warning system, telling us about heat storage changes roughly a decade before other methods.

But funding cuts and drastic priority shifts in the United States may threaten essential satellite climate monitoring.

The Conversation

Steven Sherwood receives funding from the Australian Research Council and the Mindaroo Foundation.

Benoit Meyssignac receives funding from the European Commission, the European Space Agency and the French National Space Agency.

Thorsten Mauritsen receives funding from the European Research Council, the European Space Agency, the Swedish Research Council, the Swedish National Space Agency and the Bolin Centre for Climate Research.

ref. Earth is trapping much more heat than climate models forecast – and the rate has doubled in 20 years – https://theconversation.com/earth-is-trapping-much-more-heat-than-climate-models-forecast-and-the-rate-has-doubled-in-20-years-258822

Culture wars, political polarization and deepening inequality: the roots of Trumpism

Source: The Conversation – (in Spanish) – By Jérôme Viala-Gaudefroy, Spécialiste de la politique américaine, Sciences Po

More than 100 days into his return to the White House, the conclusion is stark: Donald Trump is no longer the same president he was during his first term. His familiar nationalist and populist rhetoric is now openly paired with an authoritarian turn – one without precedent in US history. He has adopted a neo-imperial view of the economy, treating the global order as a zero-sum contest of winners and losers. In this worldview, cooperation gives way to domination: what matters is power and the accumulation of wealth.

Having withstood two impeachment procedures, numerous lawsuits and at least one assassination attempt, Trump now governs with what can appear to be unchecked authority. To his followers, he has become a hero, a martyr – almost a messianic figure. He no longer sees democracy as a framework to be honoured, but as a tool to legitimize his hold on power. His decisive electoral victory now serves as a mandate to cast aside institutional limits.

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Three key features define his style of governance: a radical centralization of executive power grounded in the theory of the “unitary executive”; the politicization of the Department of Justice, used as a weapon against rivals; and the manipulation of federal authority to target cultural, media and educational institutions. His playbook is chaos: unsettle opponents, dominate the media narrative and blur the boundaries of democratic norms. Impulsive and reactionary, Trump often governs in response to Fox News segments or trending posts on Truth Social. Instability has become a strategic tool.

But Trump is not a historical anomaly. While his 2016 victory may have seemed unlikely, his re-election reflects a deeper, long-term transformation rooted in the post-Cold War era.

From an external to an internal enemy

The collapse of the USSR – a structuring external enemy – redirected political confrontation toward the designation of an internal enemy. The culture war has become the dominant ideological battleground, driven by two closely linked forces. On one side, a religious radicalization led by nationalist Christian movements – such as the New Apostolic Reformation – seeks to roll back social progress and promote the vision of an outright theocracy. On the other, growing racial anxiety is fueled by fears of white demographic decline and resistance to civil rights gains.

The commentator Pat Buchanan saw it coming as early as the 1990s. Speaking at the 1992 Republican National Convention, he warned: “There is a cultural war going on for the soul of America… as critical as the Cold War itself.” Too radical for his time, Buchanan championed a white, Christian, conservative US hostile to cosmopolitan elites. Though marginalized then, his ideas laid the groundwork for what would become Trumpism.

Newt Gingrich, who served as Speaker of the House from 1995 to 1999, played a pivotal role in reshaping both the Republican party and US politics. A Republican group he chaired famously distributed a pamphlet to Republican candidates titled “Language: A Key Mechanism of Control”, advising them to use uplifting language to describe themselves, and inflammatory terms like “corrupt”, “immoral” and “traitor” to describe their opponents. This aggressive rhetoric redefined political rivals as enemies to be defeated – helping pave the way for a right-wing politics in which winning trumps democratic norms.

At the same time, the rise of a new conservative media ecosystem intensified polarization. The launch of Fox News in 1996, the growth of right-wing talk radio shows like Rush Limbaugh’s and the later explosion of social media gave the US right powerful tools to shape and radicalize public opinion. Today, algorithm-driven information bubbles trap citizens in alternate realities, where misinformation and outrage drown out reasoned debate. This has deepened polarization and fractured society as a whole.

Channeling anger

This ideological and media realignment has unfolded alongside a broader crisis: the unraveling of the post-Cold War neoliberal consensus. Promises of shared prosperity have been replaced by deindustrialization, deepening inequality and widespread resentment. Successive traumas – from 9/11 and the 2008 financial crash to the Covid-19 pandemic – and foreign wars without real victories have eroded public trust in the establishment.

Trump channels this anger. He offers a vision of a restored and idealized America, a rollback of recent social gains, and a reassertion of national identity grounded in religion and race. His populism is not a coherent ideology but an emotional response – born of perceived injustice, humiliation and loss.

Trump is more than a symptom of America’s democratic crisis: he is its most vivid manifestation. He embodies the legacy of the 1990s – a foundational decade of identity grievance, culture wars and media deregulation. Viewed as a political outsider, he has never been judged as a traditional politician, but rather embraced, by some, as the archetypal “self-made man” – a successful businessman and reality TV celebrity.

His rhetoric – transgressive, provocative and often cruel – gives voice to what had been repressed. The humiliation of opponents becomes part of the performance. For his supporters, it’s exhilarating. It breaks taboos, flouts political correctness and feeds the fantasy of reclaiming a lost America.

And he’s no longer alone. With the vocal support of economic and tech elites like Elon Musk – now a central figure in the radicalized right on X – Trumpism has entered a new phase. Together, they’ve outlined a new kind of authoritarian, cultural and digital power, where influence matters more than institutions.

The US re-elected not just a man, but a style, an era and a worldview built on dominance, disruption and disdain for rules. Still, history is unwritten: intoxicated by hubris and undermined by incompetence, Trumpism may yet crash into the wall of reality – with consequences far beyond America’s borders.

The Conversation

Jérôme Viala-Gaudefroy ne travaille pas, ne conseille pas, ne possède pas de parts, ne reçoit pas de fonds d’une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n’a déclaré aucune autre affiliation que son organisme de recherche.

ref. Culture wars, political polarization and deepening inequality: the roots of Trumpism – https://theconversation.com/culture-wars-political-polarization-and-deepening-inequality-the-roots-of-trumpism-255778

Degrowth and fashion: how upcycling innovators show us how to rethink and reuse waste

Source: The Conversation – (in Spanish) – By Handan Vicdan, Associate professor of marketing, EM Lyon Business School

Every year, some 100 billion garments are produced worldwide, and 92 million tonnes of clothing waste end up in landfills. Given this enormous amount of waste, it is logical to think that the only way forward is to degrow fashion. But can fashion and degrowth co-exist?

Degrowth is defined as the planned reduction of production and consumption in a way that ensures equitable living. Degrowth principles, such as sufficiency, cooperation and care, clash with growth principles of maximization, commodification and efficiency. For the fashion industry, which is responsible for immense resource extraction and waste creation, reducing resource throughput and ensuring equitable value creation pose enduring challenges.

While some governments and corporations encourage consumers to shop responsibly and reduce waste, collective responsibility is needed to facilitate a degrowth transition, which urges a fundamental shift in the way designers, manufacturers and brands approach fashion waste. Will circular practices help create a just and equitable industry? Is it possible to produce clothing locally and differently than “fast fashion” retailers?

Upcycling as a radical rethinking of our relationship with waste

In a recent study, we explored how the circular fashion practice of upcycling – creative and caring transformation of discarded or waste clothes into something of higher value – pushes industry actors to rethink their relationship to fashion waste and give it value as a resource compatible with degrowth values. We examined how upcycling is practiced across institutions – brands, manufacturers, designers and NGOs – in Turkey, one of Europe’s largest textile producers.

It is important to note that while conversations about recycling – the practice of breaking down textile waste into raw material through mechanical or chemical processes – are prevalent in the fashion world, the painful fact is that only 1% of clothes are recycled into new garments, meaning the majority of fashion waste is doomed to remain as waste. Through upcycling, on the other hand, waste is treated as a resource. Rather than viewing clothes as disposable, upcycling enables us to understand and care about our clothes’ journey and the people and ecosystems behind them. Converting discarded food into natural dyes for colouring fabric, or using sailcloth to make handbags, creates value through the creativity, materials, skill sharing, and caring involved.

As part of green-growth efforts, some circular fashion actors treat waste as a commodity and try to maximize growth through efficient waste reduction. However, this is incompatible with degrowth. We need to reduce production of textiles and make use of existing textile waste, not just discard textile waste efficiently.




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Green growth or degrowth: what is the right way to tackle climate change?


Relational ways of working with waste, technology, nature and people

Our research highlights the importance of the socio-ecological value of waste in industry upcycling practices. Such value is generated through social and solidarity networks of relations around waste, including between designers, manufacturers and upcycling brands, and involving nature and technology.

We emphasise the growing interest in the story of waste material, which is reinforcing strong connections to waste and its origins. Upcycling designers highlight local and material heritage in the production of upcycled clothes, which is necessary to foster the ecological and material consciousness required for a degrowth transition. Designers we interviewed evoked the idea that “nature doesn’t waste anything”, and mentioned being inspired by and mimicking nature’s cycles in the design process.

We also reflect on the kind of technology needed to support more relational, localised systems. The practices of upcycling designers and small brands highlight the value of the creation of waste-sharing platforms among industry actors. These platforms serve as waste libraries and provide opportunities to purchase different kinds of textile waste for upcycling.


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Making waste valuable

Industry actors we interviewed said they are not simply trend chasers focused on profit, but seeking to build alternative ways of working with each other, nature, waste and technology. For example, designers partnered with local women in rural areas in Erzurum, Mugla and Kilis provinces to upcycle discarded fabrics into handwoven garments, preserving cultural heritage. A brand collected food waste to create natural textile dyes, collaborating with local cafés and friends in Istanbul. During the Covid-19 crisis, solidarity networks emerged between hospitals, textile manufacturers and designers to make upcycled uniforms for doctors and nurses. We have observed that manufacturers also repurpose waste to give gifts to employees, children and others. These practices aim to reduce waste and reconnect people to waste material, and enable the sharing of local knowledge and skills.

Our data also demonstrates a concern over lack of circular literacy among industry actors. Currently, access to upcycling knowledge and skills, as well as waste material, happens through knowledge hubs and waste-sharing platforms. For example, working with sectoral representatives and local governments, one knowledge hub created a circular economy guide to raise industry awareness about ways to revalue and reduce textile waste.

Upcycling is still a niche circular practice, and access to waste resources for initiatives, as well as lack of public funding and policy support for projects, remain important concerns. Nonetheless, when it is grounded in local communities, new narratives about materials, and care, upcycling can foster degrowth values in fashion.

The Conversation

Handan Vicdan ne travaille pas, ne conseille pas, ne possède pas de parts, ne reçoit pas de fonds d’une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n’a déclaré aucune autre affiliation que son organisme de recherche.

ref. Degrowth and fashion: how upcycling innovators show us how to rethink and reuse waste – https://theconversation.com/degrowth-and-fashion-how-upcycling-innovators-show-us-how-to-rethink-and-reuse-waste-258869

How high-latitude peat and forest fires could shape the future of Earth’s climate

Source: The Conversation – (in Spanish) – By Apostolos Voulgarakis, AXA Chair in Wildfires and Climate Director, Laboratory of Atmospheric Environment & Climate Change, Technical University of Crete

Understanding how wildfires influence our planet’s climate is a daunting challenge. Although fire occurs nearly everywhere on Earth and has always been present, it is still one of the least understood components of the Earth system. Recently, unprecedented fire activity has been observed in boreal (northern) and Arctic regions, which has drawn the scientific community’s attention to areas whose role in the future of our planet remains a mystery. Climate change likely has a major role in this alarming trend. However, high-latitude wildfires are not just a symptom of climate change; they are an accelerating force that could shape the future of our climate in ways that we are currently incapable of predicting.


A weekly e-mail in English featuring expertise from scholars and researchers. It provides an introduction to the diversity of research coming out of the continent and considers some of the key issues facing European countries. Get the newsletter!


The rising threat of northern fires

As global temperatures rise, wildfires are advancing further north and reaching into the Arctic. Canada, Alaska, Siberia, Scandinavia and even Greenland, all in northern high-latitude regions, have recently experienced some of the most intense and prolonged wildfire seasons on record. With climate change occurring more rapidly in these areas, the future of northern fires appears even grimmer.

Apart from typical forest fires that consume surface vegetation, many high-latitude fires burn through peat, the dense, carbon-rich layers of partially decayed organic material. Despite covering only 3% of the terrestrial surface, peatlands are one of the world’s most important carbon storage environments, containing around 25% of the carbon existing in the Earth’s soils.

Climate warming, which is even faster at high northern latitudes due to polar amplification – the phenomenon of greater climate change near the poles compared to the rest of the hemisphere or globe – is increasing the vulnerability of these ecosystems to fire, with potentially severe implications for the global climate. When peatlands ignite, they release massive amounts of “fossil carbon” that have been locked away for centuries or even millennia. The largest and most persistent fires on Earth, peat fires can smoulder for extended periods, are difficult to extinguish and can continue burning underground throughout the winter, only to reignite on the surface in spring. They have recently been described as “zombie” fires.

Warmer and drier conditions driven by climate change, apart from making boreal forests more flammable, are expected to intensify and increase the frequency of peat fires, potentially transforming peatlands from carbon sinks into net sources of greenhouse gas emissions. Such a shift could trigger a feedback loop, meaning that a warming climate will cause more carbon emissions, which in turn will accelerate climate change.

Air pollution and weather patterns

Wildfires release large quantities of smoke particles (aerosols) into the atmosphere, contributing significantly to both local and widespread air quality degradation. These particles are harmful to human health and can cause serious respiratory and cardiovascular problems, while prolonged exposure may lead to smoke-induced stress, hospitalizations and increased mortality. Wildfires can also cause mental health strains associated with evacuations, loss of homes, livelihoods and lives.




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Wildfire smoke can harm your brain, not just your lungs


Beyond their long-term effects on climate, wildfire emissions can also influence weather patterns in more short-term ways via their impacts on atmospheric pollution levels. Smoke particles interact with sunlight and cloud formation processes, subsequently affecting temperatures, wind patterns and rainfall.

For example, our recent study on the large-scale atmospheric impacts of the 2023 Canadian wildfires, which we presented at the European Geosciences Union general assembly this spring, demonstrated that wildfire aerosols led to a surface air temperature decrease that expanded to the entire northern hemisphere. The cooling was particularly pronounced over Canada (up to -5.5°C in August), where the emissions were located, but was also significant over remote areas such as Eastern Europe and even Siberia (up to around -2.5°C in July). The average hemispheric temperature anomaly we calculated (close to -1°C) highlights the potential for large regional emissions from wildfires to perturb weather conditions for weeks across a whole hemisphere, with profound implications for forecasting. Unreliable weather forecasts can disrupt daily activities and pose risks to public safety, especially during extreme events such as heatwaves or storms. They also have serious consequences for industries such as farming, fishing and transport, where planning depends heavily on accurate, timely predictions.

Peat fires and the climate puzzle

While incorporating peatland fire feedbacks into Earth System Models (ESMs) is essential for accurate climate projections, most existing models lack a representation of peat fires. Understanding the smouldering behaviour of organic soils when they burn, their ignition probability, and how these processes can be represented at a global scale is of utmost importance. Recent research efforts are focusing on bridging this knowledge gap. For example, at the Technical University of Crete, we are collaborating with the Hazelab research group at Imperial College London and the Leverhulme Centre for Wildfires, Environment and Society to perform field research and cutting-edge experiments) on peat smouldering, with the aim of shedding light on the complex mechanisms of peat fires.

Integrating these lab results into ESMs will enable game-changing fire emission modelling, which holds potential for groundbreaking outcomes when it comes to our skill level for predicting the future of the Earth’s climate. By quantifying how the present-day atmosphere is influenced by fire emissions from boreal forests and peatlands, we can enhance the quality of projections of global temperature rise. This integration will also sharpen forecasts of regional climate impacts driven by fire-related aerosols, such as changes in rainfall patterns or accelerated Arctic ice melt.

Tackling the challenge of northern fires

Undoubtedly, we have entered an era of more frequent megafires – wildfires of extreme size, intensity, duration or impacts – with catastrophic consequences. Recent megafire events at boreal and Arctic regions unveil the dramatic change in wildfire patterns in northern high latitudes, which is a matter that demands urgent attention and action.

As the planet continues to warm, high-latitude fires are expected to help shape the future of our planet. Massive wildfire events, such as those in Canada in 2023, not only burned millions of hectares but also forced hundreds of thousands of people to evacuate their homes. Unprecedented amounts of smoke blanketed parts of North America in hazardous air, prompting school closures and health warnings, and obliging citizens to remain indoors for days. Events like this reflect a growing trend. They underscore why advancing research to better understand and predict the dynamics of northern peat and forest fires, and to mitigate their climate impacts, is not only a scientific imperative but also a moral responsibility.


Created in 2007 to help accelerate and share scientific knowledge on key societal issues, the Axa Research Fund has supported nearly 700 projects around the world conducted by researchers in 38 countries. To learn more, visit the website of the Axa Research Fund or follow @AXAResearchFund on X.

The Conversation

Dimitra Tarasi has received funding from the AXA Chair in Wildfires and Climate, the Leverhulme Centre for Wildfires, Environment and Society and the A.G. Leventis Foundation Educational Grants.

Apostolos Voulgarakis ne travaille pas, ne conseille pas, ne possède pas de parts, ne reçoit pas de fonds d’une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n’a déclaré aucune autre affiliation que son organisme de recherche.

ref. How high-latitude peat and forest fires could shape the future of Earth’s climate – https://theconversation.com/how-high-latitude-peat-and-forest-fires-could-shape-the-future-of-earths-climate-258721