Category: Analysis

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Meilan Yan, Senior Lecturer in Financial Economics, Loughborough University

Climate change is usually assessed in scientific terms – rising temperatures, sea levels and carbon emissions. But increasingly, it can also be measured in household bills – higher insurance premiums, steeper energy charges and growing costs to protect homes, travel and health. So when US President Donald Trump said recently that abandoning a key government ruling on greenhouse gases would make cars cheaper for Americans, he was focusing on a tiny piece of a huge picture.

That is because climate change is not a local problem that hits one place at a time. It is increasingly a widespread financial risk, pushing on several parts of household finances at once. When risks become systemic, people cannot simply “insure it away” or plan around it.

When Trump announced he was revoking the US’s 2009 “endangerment finding”, which set out how greenhouse gas buildup harms human health and wellbeing, he said the move would save Americans “trillions of dollars”.

But climate change shows up directly in household budgets as pressures converge. These pressures could include insurance becoming unaffordable or even unavailable, which can then have knock-on effects on property values. On top of that, utility costs can creep up, wages may become less reliable, and retirement savings are exposed to climate-driven shocks.

For many families, their home is their largest financial asset. But climate risk is increasingly being priced into property markets. Research suggests that in the United States, homes exposed to flood risk may be overvalued by between US$121 billion and US$237 billion (£89 billion and £174 billion). The First Street Foundation, an independent climate risk research organisation, estimates that climate risk could wipe out as much as US$1.47 trillion in US home values by 2055.

In the UK, evidence shows that house prices in English postcodes affected by inland flooding fell by an average of 25% compared with similar non-flooded areas. Coastal flooding in England has been associated with price reductions of roughly 21%. The Environment Agency estimates that one in four homes in England could be at risk of flooding by the middle of the century.

Insurance is expensive – or unavailable

Many governments have tried to prevent climate risk from pricing people out of insurance by creating schemes of last resort. These government-backed initiatives keep policies available when the market would otherwise withdraw. But this safety net is now under growing financial strain.

In the US, the National Flood Insurance Program (NFIP) has accumulated more than US$22 billion in debt to the US Treasury after repeated borrowing to cover claims.

Meanwhile, in the UK, Flood Re was designed to buy time for adaptation while keeping flood insurance affordable. Yet rising claims have driven up reinsurance costs by around £100 million for 2025/26. France also had to increase the mandatory surcharge on its national “Cat Nat” natural catastrophe scheme from 12% to 20% from January 2025 to maintain financial stability.

Climate change affects households even if they do not own property. As utilities invest in stronger, more resilient infrastructure, those costs are usually recovered through higher standing charges and tariffs. In other words, the price of adaptation is quietly passed on through monthly bills. In California, for example, wildfire-related grid upgrades added 7% to nearly 13% to household energy bills in 2023.

The same logic applies to cars. Rolling back US vehicle emissions rules is being sold to American consumers as cutting US$2,400 off the price of a new car. But that sum isn’t a cheque to ordinary Americans. Carmakers are not required to pass the saving on, petrol drivers can end up paying more at the pump, and EVs still come with a high upfront price tag.

In reality, the figure is best understood as an estimated reduction in manufacturers’ compliance costs, not a guaranteed discount at the dealership.

Climate change doesn’t only put pressure on household budgets. It also threatens the thing many families rely on most: a steady pay cheque. Large parts of the economy worldwide still depend on work that happens outdoors from agriculture and construction to tourism, deliveries and logistics. The 2022 California drought cost farming around US$1.7 billion in revenue and nearly 12,000 job losses.

There are also direct health costs. The International Labour Organization warns that climate hazards expose workers to a “cocktail” of risks, including heat stress, air pollution, ultraviolet radiation and physical injury.

It estimates that 2.4 billion workers around the world could be exposed to climate-related health hazards. Excessive heat already affects about 70% of the global workforce, contributing to 18,970 work-related deaths and roughly 23 million workplace injuries each year.

Climate change is increasingly seen by regulators and investors as a systemic risk that can undermine the pensions people rely on in retirement. Risk management technology firm Ortec Finance warns that failing to transition to a low-carbon global economy could reduce pension fund returns worldwide by around 33% by 2050.

Physical risks (floods, heatwaves and storms) can damage assets and disrupt productivity. Transition risks (policy shifts and sudden repricing of carbon-intensive assets) can hit valuations. Together, they weaken the performance of equities, property and infrastructure.

When climate risk is systemic, there’s no bargain to be made: short-term “savings” don’t reduce household costs, they are repaid soon through higher bills. Rather than driving up the cost of living, climate policy helps to stop climate shocks from raising prices even faster.

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

– ref. Trump claims his pollution rollback will save Americans money – but climate change is raising household costs – https://theconversation.com/trump-claims-his-pollution-rollback-will-save-americans-money-but-climate-change-is-raising-household-costs-276201

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Michiel van Elk, Associate Professor, Cognitive Psychology, Leiden University

Mystics once spent years meditating in caves in search of transcendence. Today, a growing number of people believe something similar can be reached in a single afternoon with the help of a psychedelic drug. Swallow a capsule of psilocybin or take a carefully supervised dose of LSD and you may encounter what many describe as one of the most meaningful experiences of their lives.

Modern clinical trials appear to support this. Several studies suggest that the intensity of a “mystical-type experience” during a psychedelic session predicts the degree of improvement in depression, anxiety or addiction. A recent review, for example, reports a consistent statistical link between mystical experiences and improved mental health.

It is an enticing idea: that healing comes through a profound encounter with unity, sacredness or ultimate reality. But do we really need mystical experiences to get better?

To understand why this question matters, it helps to step back. Long before psychedelics entered psychiatry, philosophers and theologians were fascinated by mystical states. In the early 20th century, the psychologist William James argued in his book The Varieties of Religious Experience that mystical states should be judged “by their fruits, not by their roots” – meaning by their effects on people’s lives rather than by debates about their metaphysical truth.

Others, including the British writer on Christian mysticism Evelyn Underhill and the philosopher of religion Walter Stace, developed what later became known as “perennial philosophy”: the idea that a common core experience lies at the heart of the world’s religions.

This way of thinking has quietly shaped modern psychedelic science. In 1962, the psychiatrist Walter Pahnke conducted the Good Friday Experiment, giving theology students psilocybin in a church. Many reported experiences that were strikingly similar to those described by classical mystics.

Around the same time, British-born psychiatrist Humphry Osmond – who coined the word “psychedelic” – developed treatment approaches designed to induce powerful “peak experiences” that could trigger lasting psychological change.

Today, large clinical trials at universities such as Johns Hopkins and Imperial College London have revived this approach. Researchers routinely measure whether participants have had a “mystical-type experience” using a standardised questionnaire known as the mystical experience questionnaire, or MEQ.

Participants are asked to rate statements such as “I had an experience of unity with ultimate reality” or “I had an experience which cannot be described adequately in words”. The higher the score, the more likely someone is classified as having had a full mystical experience.

But this raises a conundrum. If an experience is supposedly “ineffable” – beyond words – how accurately can it be captured by ticking boxes on a survey?

Some critics argue that the MEQ builds in assumptions drawn from perennial philosophy. By asking about “ultimate reality” or “sacredness”, it may reflect a particular interpretation of mystical experience rather than a neutral description. As one analysis notes, there is a risk that the scale partly reproduces the very theory it aims to test.

Expectations may further complicate matters

Many participants in psychedelic trials arrive already primed for transcendence. They have read glowing media coverage, listened to podcasts or watched documentaries promising life-changing breakthroughs. Research shows that such expectations can significantly shape subjective drug experiences.

My colleagues and I saw just how powerful suggestion can be in a study nicknamed “tripping with the god helmet”. Participants wore a sham brain-stimulation device that we described as capable of activating their “mystical lobes”. In reality, no stimulation was delivered. Yet nearly half reported mystical-type experiences, some describing them as deeply meaningful.

In another experiment, placebo psychedelics administered in a carefully staged environment – complete with evocative music and imagery – produced strikingly similar reports. These findings suggest that context and expectation are not minor side notes. They can play a central role in shaping what people experience.

None of this means psychedelic therapy is “just a placebo”. The drugs clearly alter brain activity and experience in powerful ways. But it does raise the possibility that mystical experiences are not the sole or even primary driver of therapeutic change.

After all, correlation does not equal causation. A large body of psychiatric research warns against assuming that because two things occur together, one must cause the other. Mystical experiences may simply be one visible marker of other processes, such as increased emotional openness, the development of new neural connections or changes in entrenched beliefs.

Super placebos

Some researchers have even described psychedelics as super placebos: substances that amplify expectancy effects rather than bypass them. That may sound dismissive, but it points to something important. Expectations, beliefs and meaning-making are not incidental to healing; they are often central to it.

When used carefully in structured settings, psychedelics may act less like magic bullets and more like catalysts. They intensify whatever psychological processes are already underway.

For some, that may include feelings of unity and transcendence. For others, it may involve confronting grief, fear or long-buried memories. Stanislav Grof, a pioneer of psychedelic therapy, once compared these substances to microscopes for the mind – tools that reveal otherwise hidden aspects of experience.

The key point is this: while mystical experiences often go hand in hand with improvement, they may not be essential. And on their own, they may not be enough to create lasting change.

Lasting therapeutic benefits appear to emerge from a web of interacting factors: brain changes, emotional breakthroughs, supportive settings, skilled therapists and the integration work that follows the session. Focusing too narrowly on whether someone scored above a mystical threshold risks oversimplifying a complex process.

The psychedelic renaissance has opened exciting possibilities for mental health treatment. But if the field is to mature, it may need to move beyond the assumption that transcendence is the secret ingredient.

The future of psychedelic therapy may depend less on chasing mystical peaks and more on understanding the conditions that help people translate intense experiences – mystical or otherwise – into durable, meaningful change.

Disclosuree Michiel van Elk receives funding from the Netherlands Organization for Scientific Research (NWO; grant id# VI.Vidi.191.107). He is affiliated as board member with Open Foundation (https://open-foundation.org).

– ref. Can a psychedelic-induced mystical experience really improve your mental health? – https://theconversation.com/can-a-psychedelic-induced-mystical-experience-really-improve-your-mental-health-274330

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Richard Johnson, Senior Lecturer in Politics, Queen Mary University of London

Since May 2025, Reform UK has led every poll of general election voting intention. Were an election held today, Reform would be poised to form a government. It would probably be a majority government, too. A party needs 326 seats in the House of Commons to form a majority, and Electoral Calculus currently estimates Reform’s range of seats between 319 and 418 MPs.

This puts Reform in a unique position in British politics. It could potentially form a majority government without ever having been the official opposition. Since 1922, the official opposition has been formed by one of two parties: Labour or the Conservatives. Even during the second world war, Labour remained the official opposition, even though Labour MPs sat in the wartime coalition government.

As part of his bid for government, Nigel Farage has announced what he is calling his “shadow cabinet”. The announcement, however, contained several curiosities.

Only four out of eight Reform MPs were given jobs – far fewer than the number of cabinet posts in government. Farage would be prime minister in a Reform government with Richard Tice as his deputy and head of a new department of business, trade and energy. Robert Jenrick will be Reform’s economic spokesman – and is being called its “shadow chancellor”. Suella Braverman takes the education portfolio.

This is far from the full line up of a cabinet and several key positions are missing – notably foreign secretary. And yet there were no jobs for Reform MPs Lee Anderson, Sarah Pochin, Andrew Rossindell and Danny Kruger.

Meanwhile, Farage has appointed someone to his “shadow” cabinet who does not sit in parliament at all: Zia Yusuf, who takes the home affairs brief. This decision gives a hint that the Reform shadow cabinet is a different beast than the “official” shadow cabinet. It’s a sign that the top team will be focused more on the party’s public presentation than parliamentary scrutiny.

Does this mean anything?

Britain’s parliamentary system assumes a binary structure. Each government minister is shadowed by a member of the official opposition. These “shadow ministers” stand across from the minister at the dispatch box. They are responsible in the chamber for scrutinising and challenging the minister and government legislation. This adversarial pairing is central to the system of political accountability at the heart of the British constitution.

As leader of the opposition, Kemi Badenoch is entitled to ask the prime minister six questions each week at prime minister’s questions (PMQs), the most hotly watched 30 minutes of the weekly parliamentary timetable. This gives Badenoch an opportunity to grab the political limelight in a way that few other opposition politicians can.

Over the years, many Leaders of the opposition have made use of this position to great effect, especially since the introduction of television cameras in parliament in 1989. John Smith, Tony Blair and David Cameron were all particularly good performers at PMQs as opposition leaders.

Reform’s current parliamentary position deprives it of this prominence. At the 2024 general election, it finished third in vote share but only seventh in seats. Through defections and byelections it now has eight MPs, making it the fifth largest party in the House of Commons – one seat behind the SNP.

Reform figures have complained about the disconnect between their polling strength and their parliamentary footprint. Nigel Farage briefly boycotted PMQs after failing to secure a guaranteed seat in the chamber. But Britain is a parliamentary democracy, not a polling democracy. In the Commons, what counts is seats won, not votes projected.

That said, if Reform sustains its polling lead as the next election approaches, voters will expect clarity about what a Reform government would look like. In Britain, unlike in the US, Cabinets are largely visible before an election. We generally know who will occupy the great offices of state should a party win. There can be post-election adjustments – Labour’s Emily Thornberry was cruelly removed from the frontbench immediately after the 2024 election – but the broad outline is usually established in advance.

It is not unheard of for smaller parties in parliament to announce something they call a shadow cabinet. The Liberal Democrats have pulled this stunt from time to time. In 2008, Liberal Democrat leader Nick Clegg announced his shadow cabinet, many of whom ended up in government after 2010 when the Lib Dems joined a coalition government with the Conservatives.

Practically speaking, a “shadow cabinet” from a third party confers no additional standing in parliament. The party may wish to encourage the “shadow” to attend debates relevant to their brief and to make interventions. But they do not speak from the dispatch box or enjoy the same parliamentary time and prominence as the official opposition.

Power sharing to win power

Nonetheless, this is a test of Nigel Farage’s leadership approach. It has been reported that “he has struggled to share power with others”. Farage’s re-entry to British electoral politics in June 2024 was predicated on him taking the reigns of Reform from Tice. He did not want to share the top job.

Farage has been ruthless in expelling Reform MPs whom he regards as a liability to the party and a threat to his leadership. He has also limited internal party democracy in the form of either candidate selections or policy formulation.

This has been both a strength and a weakness for Reform. Farage is undoubtedly Reform’s most recognisable figure and is one of the most charismatic people in British politics. His ruthless grip over the party has sometimes been merited in keeping Reform’s distance from more ethno-nationalist elements of the British right.

At the same time, it is impossible for a prime minister to have full control over every element of his party and government. To lead is to delegate. Farage’s announcement of his shadow cabinet was the first demonstration of that imperative, but in the months ahead there will be much more to do.

If Farage is serious about doing the unthinkable and leapfrogging from a minor parliamentary party to majority government in one election, then he is going to need to learn to share power. Power-sharing requires trust, and trust is not easily cultivated in a party composed largely of political defectors. Leading such a party requires not only discipline from the top, but confidence that those who have already turned their backs on one political team will remain loyal to another.

Richard Johnson 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. Nigel Farage unveils ‘shadow cabinet’ team – but why did only three of his MPs get jobs? – https://theconversation.com/nigel-farage-unveils-shadow-cabinet-team-but-why-did-only-three-of-his-mps-get-jobs-276106

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Gregory Krippa, PhD Candidate in Diplomacy & International Affairs, Loughborough University

As the 2026 Milano Cortina Winter Olympics in Italy play out, the International Olympic Committee (IOC) is once again insisting that any sport under its flag must remain politically neutral. The Olympic charter grounds this position in its fifth “fundamental principle of Olympism”, which states that sports organisations within the Olympic movement “shall apply political neutrality”.

Yet in recent years, athletes from Russia and Belarus have been excluded or tightly restricted, and calls have also been made to ban Israelis, Americans, and others. This raises the question: what, exactly, does “political neutrality” mean in today’s Olympic Games – and what purpose does it serve?

To start with, it’s obvious to most that the IOC cannot be “neutral” in the everyday sense of never getting involved. In 1992, athletes from the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia were not allowed to compete as Yugoslavia because of UN sanctions, and those who did compete did so under the Olympic flag as independent Olympic participants.

But the US faced no Olympic-wide ban after the 2003 invasion of Iraq, widely argued to be illegal under international law. If political neutrality means never making political decisions, then the IOC couldn’t work by definition, because deciding which countries are recognised and eligible to compete is inherently political.

The real question is not whether the IOC makes political decisions, but why it keeps insisting it does not take sides in political conflicts when, to many observers, its actions suggest otherwise.

Countries and organisations sometimes claim neutrality on principled grounds. In the 1980 Moscow Olympic Games, for example, 65 countries boycotted in response to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. Four years later, the Soviet Union and most of the Eastern bloc retaliated by boycotting the 1984 Los Angeles Games, citing political hostility and security concerns.

In both of these cases, the Games still went ahead. The IOC presidents at the time, Lord Killanin in 1980 and Juan Antonio Samaranch in 1984, appeared willing to bear the costs of lower attendance, prestige and fanfare in order to uphold the organisation’s claim to political neutrality, amongst other things.

Today, political neutrality increasingly serves a different role. Rather than expressing a clear position that the organisation is prepared to defend, neutrality is used to keep decisions deliberately vague. Instead of clear criteria that say what neutrality is, when it is required, and when it should be abandoned, the IOC responds to each crisis case by case, without explaining why similar conflicts produce different outcomes.

Sport and politics in the real world

This vagueness reduces the need to justify decisions, accountability and responsibility, all while arguing that it takes a principled position of neutrality. Ironically, “political neutrality” is so loosely defined that it is flexible enough to take sides in political conflicts, a strategic ambiguity not uncommon in international politics.

Admittedly, this may be a smart strategy from an organisational point of view. In early March 2022, the International Paralympic Committee (IPC), within 24 hours of saying Russian and Belarusian athletes would be allowed to compete at Beijing 2022 as neutrals, reversed course after several countries warned they would not compete.

The IPC probably lost some authority, and perhaps even legitimacy, from this reversal. Yet it begs the question where this leaves the concept of political neutrality and values in general, today.

Sport is often seen as a microcosm of society. Whatever happens in sport reflects society at large – and these Winter Olympic Games are no different. In this sense, neutrality in the IOC reflects a broader pattern we see in daily life – one law for the few, and another for the many, with “political neutrality” a convenient mask for taking sides while claiming not to. It appears to be “neutrality” when it benefits the right countries, and “politics” when it does not.

In these Winter Games, the IOC will speak the words of neutrality but think in terms of politics. Neutrality will be invoked to justify restrictions on some delegations or athletes, like Russia and Belarus, while resisting restrictions on others, like Israel and the US, and deflecting responsibility for explaining the difference.

After a week of competition, this double standard is evident. Russian and Belarusian athletes compete only as vetted “individual neutral athletes” without flags or anthems. Meanwhile, athletes from countries facing well-documented accusations of violating international law and human rights, like Iran, Israel, China, the US and others, participate under full national symbols.

The result is that these Winter Games, like many before them, are a stage where political conflict is managed in practice. Political neutrality today does not remove politics from sport; it is simply another way of reinforcing it.

Gregory Krippa 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. Why it’s impossible for the Olympics to be politically neutral – https://theconversation.com/why-its-impossible-for-the-olympics-to-be-politically-neutral-275336

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Ahmed Elbediwy, Senior Lecturer in Cancer Biology & Clinical Biochemistry, Kingston University

Cancer treatment follows a familiar pattern: doctors spot symptoms, diagnose the disease and start treatment. But scientists are now exploring a radical shift in how we tackle cancer. Instead of waiting for tumours to appear, they want to catch the disease decades before it develops.

This approach is called “cancer interception”. The idea is simple: target the biological processes that cause cancer long before a tumour ever forms.

Researchers are hunting for subtle early warning signs. These include genetic mutations that quietly build up in our cells, giving them advantages against our immune defences.

They’re also looking at precancerous lesions like moles or polyps, and early visible changes in tissue. All of these appear long before cancer becomes obvious.

Large genetic studies reveal that as people age, their bodies accumulate small groups of mutated cells called clones that grow silently. Scientists have studied this particularly well in blood. These clones can help predict who might develop blood cancers like leukaemia, and the genetics, inflammation and environmental factors strongly influence them.

Crucially, doctors can measure and track these changes over time. This opens up possibilities for early intervention.

A 16-year study followed around 7,000 women and uncovered how these mutations work. Some mutations helped clones multiply faster, while others made them particularly sensitive to inflammation.

When there was inflammation, these sensitive clones expanded. Breaking down these patterns helps researchers identify people with a higher chance of developing cancer later.

Not a sudden event

The research reveals something fundamental about cancer. It’s not a sudden event that instantly produces a tumour.

Instead, cancer develops through a slow, multi-step process with detectable warning signs along the way. These early signs could become powerful targets for stopping cancer before it starts.

Scientists are developing blood tests to spot cancer long before symptoms appear. These tests, called multi-cancer early detection tests (MCEDs for short), search for tiny fragments of DNA in the blood.

MCEDs work by looking for circulating tumour DNA, or ctDNA – DNA fragments that cancerous or precancerous cells release into the bloodstream. Even very early cancers shed this DNA, so the tests might detect disease long before it shows up on a scan.

The results so far look promising. MCEDs can boost survival rates through early detection, especially for colorectal cancer. When doctors diagnose colorectal cancer at stage one, 92% of patients survive five years. But when they catch it at stage four, only 18% survive that long.

The tests aren’t perfect, though. They miss some cancers entirely, and positive results still need follow-up tests to confirm.

Even so, research suggests MCEDs could become crucial for catching cancers that usually go unnoticed until much later. The potential to save lives is significant.

Heart doctors already use a similar approach. They calculate a person’s risk using age, blood pressure, cholesterol and family history, then prescribe drugs like statins years before a heart attack happens.

Cancer researchers want to copy this model. They envision combining genetic mutations, environmental factors and MCED results to guide early cancer prevention.

But cancer differs from heart disease in important ways. Cancer doesn’t follow a predictable path, and some early lesions shrink or never progress.

There’s also the risk of over-diagnosis. Being told you’re at higher risk when you feel perfectly healthy creates anxiety.

Cancer prevention tools also vary widely in their effectiveness, unlike statins that work broadly across different cardiovascular risk groups. The risk-based model shows promise, but needs careful handling.

Treating cancer risk instead of cancer itself raises difficult ethical questions. When someone feels completely healthy, judging whether intervention will truly help them becomes harder.

There’s a danger of causing unnecessary worry or harm. Scientists warn that doctors sometimes overestimate benefits and underestimate risks, particularly for older adults.

MCED tests bring their own ethical concerns. Accuracy isn’t the only issue that matters.

The tests sometimes flag cancer when none exists, leading to follow-up scans and biopsies that patients don’t actually need. The anxiety from all of this carries a high cost, both for patients and the healthcare system.

If these tests are expensive or only available privately, they could make health inequalities worse. This concern hits hardest in low-income countries.

In the US, the medicines regulator is investigating how MCED blood tests should work. They’re examining how reliable the tests need to be and what follow-ups doctors should require to keep patients safe.

The UK is following suit. The National Cancer Plan for England, published on February 4, 2026, commits to providing 9.5 million extra diagnostic tests through the NHS each year by March 2029.

The plan also states that ctDNA biomarker testing will continue in lung and breast cancer. It will extend to other cancers if proven to be cost effective.

What all this shows is clear. Cancer doesn’t suddenly appear; it’s a steady process that begins decades earlier. Catching it before it grows could save countless lives. The question now is how to do that safely, fairly and effectively.

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

– ref. The next cancer breakthrough may be stopping it before it starts – https://theconversation.com/the-next-cancer-breakthrough-may-be-stopping-it-before-it-starts-275453

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Lewis Eves, Lecturer in the School of Politics and International Relations, University of Nottingham

At the recent Munich Security Conference, China’s foreign minister, Wang Yi, delivered a rebuke of what he said were dangerous trends of militarism in Japan. In a panel discussion, he pointed out comments made in November by the Japanese prime minister, Sanae Takaichi, in which she suggested Japan could intervene militarily in the event of a Chinese attack on Taiwan.

Wang stressed that these remarks were a direct challenge to China’s national sovereignty, suggesting this was something his country would not accept. He warned of a “very dangerous development in Asia”, adding that Japanese people “should not let far-right extremists move and drag them down”.

Some observers have suggested that Wang’s remarks indicate a return to China’s “wolf warrior” approach to diplomacy, an assertive and jingoistic foreign policy strategy that was adopted by numerous Chinese officials and diplomats for several years beginning in the late-2010s. China switched away from this strategy around 2023 and sought to position itself as more of a global peacemaker instead.

Wang’s remarks in Munich did bear the hallmarks of wolf warrior diplomacy. But I think he also used his appearance at the conference to signal something greater in China’s diplomatic strategy: a desire to position itself as the beneficiary of the current turbulence in global politics.

The term “wolf warrior” stems from a 2015 Chinese war film, also called Wolf Warrior. The film follows a special forces soldier of the People’s Liberation Army, the armed wing of the Chinese Communist party (CCP), who fights and defeats a group of foreign mercenaries. It was followed by a second film in 2017.

The success of the franchise inspired so-called “wolf warriors” among China’s nationalist movement. These people called for Chinese officials to be more assertive in their foreign policy, threatening coercive action where they need to.

The relationship between the CCP and China’s nationalist movement is complex. However, the reliance of the CCP on the nationalist movement for support gave the movement – and, by extension, the wolf warriors – significant influence to pressure officials into pursuing a more assertive foreign policy.

This led to the development of wolf warrior diplomacy. Similar to the unapologetic use of force employed by the film’s titular character to battle foreign enemies, Chinese diplomats used threats to silence foreign criticism of China and its government. The idea was to portray strength to domestic and international audiences.

One example of wolf warrior diplomacy occurred in 2020. In response to the award of a Swedish literature prize to Gui Minhai, a human rights activist who is currently imprisoned in China on unsubstantiated “spying” charges, China’s ambassador to Sweden Gui Congyou publicly stated on Swedish radio: “We treat our friends with fine wine, but for our enemies we’ve got shotguns.”

Wang made a similar threat against Japan in Munich. When asked a question about the tensions between the two countries, he made reference to Japan’s history of violent expansion. He threatened: “If you [Japan] go back down the old road, it will be a dead end. If you try gambling again, the loss will be faster and more devastating.”

Level-headed strategy

Wang was a proponent of wolf warrior diplomacy at its height, and for him to be making threats at an international conference is reminiscent of China’s worryingly assertive foreign policy posture of the recent past. But his broader rhetoric in Munich reflected a level-headed diplomatic strategy.

In his keynote speech, Wang spoke of the need for the UN and for global cooperation and collaboration. He also called for greater European representation in the peace negotiations between Russia and Ukraine. And he framed recent US foreign policy as undermining international law, highlighting American interference in Venezuela as a key example.

Wang appears to have been trying to use an international event to position China as an alternative global leader to the US that is interested in upholding western institutions of international governance and law. In contrast to knee-jerk nationalism and jingoism as a hallmark of foreign policy, this speaks to a strategy that seeks to manoeuvre China into a position where it can court favour with the countries the US is antagonising.

This approach predates Wang’s speech and seems to be working. Even the UK, traditionally considered the closest US ally in Europe, has been forging new agreements with China in recent weeks. These include visa-free travel, intelligence-sharing and possible trade deals.

So, why then did Wang attack Japan in Munich? Tensions between the two nations are particularly tense at the moment. And, while it is hostile to foreign interference generally, China’s nationalist movement is specifically anti-Japanese.

Chinese nationalism draws heavily from the narrative of the “century of humiliation”, a period from 1839 to 1949 in which China was victimised by foreign powers. A particularly prominent example of this was the second Sino-Japanese war (1937-45), which resulted in the deaths of up to 20 million Chinese people.

There remains considerable animosity over this conflict in China. Given his wolf warrior background, the prevalence of anti-Japanese sentiment in China and the current tensions between China and Japan, Wang’s rhetoric towards Japan is unsurprising.

I suspect it reflects a combination of his personal views, pressure from China’s nationalist movement and compliance with the CCP’s official line on discussing the tensions with Japan. Yet, this should not distract from the broader view Wang gave of Chinese diplomacy and how China is positioning itself to benefit from the currently turbulent state of global politics.

Lewis Eves 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. China has turned the page on its aggressive ‘wolf warrior’ diplomacy – except when it comes to Japan – https://theconversation.com/china-has-turned-the-page-on-its-aggressive-wolf-warrior-diplomacy-except-when-it-comes-to-japan-276144