Category: Analysis

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Martin Fullekrug, Reader, Department of Electronic & Electrical Engineering, University of Bath

Sometimes you get a small electric shock from touching your car door handle on a dry summer’s day.

The source of these shocks is a spark discharge, occurring between your body and the body of the car. These sparks happen from accumulation of static electric charge – often arising from two different materials rubbing together. This process – named triboelectric charging – was discovered in ancient Greece, where it was observed that some materials are attracted by amber when rubbed.

Triboelectricity is commonly demonstrated in classroom experiments: by rubbing plastic sticks with cat fur, or by rubbing a balloon on your hair.

Now we know that, if you were returning to a parked car on Mars, you could experience a similar shock. A new study has, for the first time, directly demonstrated electrical discharges on the red planet.

The same triboelectric process operates in volcanic eruptions on Earth, where charge is accumulated by ash particles colliding. In volcanic plumes, the build up of charge can initiate very large lightning discharges – the big cousin of smaller spark discharges. Lightning discharges are even more common in thunderstorms, however, where interactions between soft hail (graupel) and ice crystals cause charge separation.

On Earth, dust storms and dust devils – a relatively short-lived whirlwind formed from rising columns of warm air – are known to substantially electrify, through collisions between dust particles. Typically, sufficient electrification to lead to spark or lightning discharges is not achieved, owing to the ~1 bar pressure at the surface. Conversely, on Mars, the lower pressure (about 1-10% of that on Earth) means that spark discharges are likely at lesser levels of electrification.

For several decades, it has been thought that dust devils on Mars may be able to produce spark discharges. Many lab experiments shaking sand around in a low-pressure carbon dioxide atmosphere, like that of Mars, have recorded highly charged dust and discharges.

However, until now, there have been no direct observations of Martian discharges. There have been several clues to the existence of charging in the Martian atmosphere, such as dust stuck to the wheels of a Nasa rover, for example.

The new – and genuinely serendipitous – observations published in Nature show that electrical discharges are present in the Martian atmosphere.

These results stemmed from a small loop in the wire connecting a microphone on the Perseverance rover to the on-board electronics. This wire, and the microphone system connected to it, proved to be an unexpectedly effective accidental lightning detector. The SuperCam microphone was intended to observe the acoustic environment of Mars, however, small electrical transients were also detected.

In investigating the source of these transient events, it was found that some of them were followed by sounds. The authors convincingly showed that the transients were caused by spark discharges, with electromagnetic signals picked up by the coil being followed by acoustic signals from the microphone. These observations are similar to seeing a flash of light and later hearing the subsequent thunder.

From investigating the time difference between the acoustic and electrical signals, the authors find that the spark discharges occur in the vicinity of the Martian lander – just a few metres away. Further, it was found that these occurrences were more common during dust storms, or when dust devils sweep over the rover.

Generally, two independent sources of corroborating information are considered necessary for unambiguous evidence of a new phenomenon. For example, lightning at Saturn is supported by separate observations from both spacecraft and Earth. When the discharges are weak, however, detection at a distance is much less achievable or even impossible. For these weak events on Mars, in-atmosphere detection is needed. Although the same signal system was used to detect them, the electrical and acoustic signals were conveyed in very different ways.

An analogous situation might be a radio broadcast made from near a thunderstorm. The effect of a lightning strike might cause a crackle of interference to be picked up by an analogue (not internet) radio, shortly before you heard thunder on the broadcast. The same radio provides these two signals, however they would seem to be observed independently.

The finding that electrical discharges occur on Mars has various implications. Atmospheric electricity can cause chemical reactions, such as the formation of complex molecules, perhaps linked to the origins of life. There are also practical applications for future space missions.

Dust was a significant problem during the Apollo missions landing on the lunar surface, as it easily penetrates any mechanical systems. Dust protection is an important part of planning for human travel to Mars. All these problems are exacerbated when the dust creates sparks, as it could result in electronic circuits malfunctioning.

Fortunately, you won’t have to worry much when a dust devil approaches during your next road trip on desert tracks; you can just drive through it, although the experience might remind you that on Mars you might see some sparks in the dust.

Blair McGinness has previously received funding from STFC.

Karen Aplin receives funding from the UK Space Agency,

Martin Fullekrug 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. Nasa robot rover shows that sparks fly in dust storms on Mars – https://theconversation.com/nasa-robot-rover-shows-that-sparks-fly-in-dust-storms-on-mars-270985

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Tom Harper, Lecturer in International Relations, University of East London

Donald Trump’s campaign against Venezuela escalated recently with the US president announcing that the country’s airspace should be considered “closed”. This is a move that has preceded US military interventions in the past, perhaps most notably in Iraq in 2003.

It remains to be seen whether Trump’s declaration will be followed by military action or is just a means of raising the pressure on the Venezuelan leader, Nicolás Maduro, in an attempt to force him from office. But regardless of what happens next, what has been notable is the reaction of China.

In a December 3 briefing, Chinese foreign ministry spokesperson Lin Jian said that closing Venezuelan airspace would violate international norms and infringe on national sovereignty. Jian added that China rejects interference in Venezuela’s internal affairs “under any pretext” and called on all parties to keep Latin America a “zone of peace”.

This stance is no great surprise. China has developed strong relationships with several Latin American countries, including Venezuela, as part of a broader strategy to expand its presence in regions long dominated by the US. Trump’s threats of military action could jeopardise the influence China has built there.

China has been involved in Latin America for centuries. But its ties to the region have grown rapidly over the past 25 years or so, with China becoming an indispensable partner to many Latin American countries. Brazil is a clear example of this indispensability.

The election of Jair Bolsonaro’s right-wing government in 2018 led to expectations that Brazil would tilt towards Washington. However, such expectations were soon dampened due to China’s role as a major consumer of Brazilian goods. By 2020, China was Brazil’s largest trading partner, accounting for over 30% of total exports from the country.

Ties between Brazil and China have only deepened under Bolsonaro’s successor, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva. This has been helped by the intensification of the US-China trade war, which has seen Brazil become a crucial alternative source of agricultural products such as soybeans that China has historically imported from the US.

This relationship has enabled China to exert economic pressure on the US. Brazil’s large soybean exports to China have increased the global supply, which has suppressed prices for all suppliers – including those in US.

China has been a similarly indispensable partner to Venezuela since the days of Maduro’s predecessor, Hugo Chávez, who took power in the Latin American state in 1999. Chávez was a keen advocate of a multipolar international order, a concept that has gained traction as Beijing’s political and economic power has grown.

Over the years, China has become the main destination for Venezuelan oil. In 2024, China bought around 268,000 barrels of oil from Venezuela on average every day – a figure that, in reality, is likely to be higher as Venezuelan oil is routinely mislabelled to bypass US sanctions.

Venezuelan oil is key for China. Beijing has been attempting to diversify its sources of natural resources in recent years as part of efforts to retain its global advantage in cheap manufacturing and wean itself off a dependency on Middle Eastern oil. Trump’s threats to intervene militarily in Venezuela may, at least in part, be aimed at challenging Chinese interests.

Indeed, the White House issued an official statement on December 2 affirming the Trump administration’s commitment to the Monroe Doctrine. Signed in 1823, the doctrine said the US would reject other countries’ influence in Latin America. A new “Trump Corollary” to the doctrine states that “the American people – not foreign nations nor globalist institutions – will always control their own destiny in our hemisphere”.

Challenging Chinese influence

Any US military action in Venezuela will probably increase paranoia across the region. Trump warned recently that any country he believes is making illegal drugs destined for the US is vulnerable to a military attack, and singled out Colombia.

On December 2, Trump told reporters at the White House that he “heard” Colombia was “making cocaine”. “They have cocaine plants”, he added. The Colombian president, Gustavo Petro, hit back immediately on social media, saying: “To threaten our sovereignty is to declare war”.

But China is unlikely to step in militarily to defend countries in Latin America from US aggression. While China has used its developmental influence there to pursue some political objectives – most notably persuading El Salvador, the Dominican Republic and Honduras to renounce diplomatic recognition of Taiwan in recent years – its engagement with Latin America has largely been transactional.

China’s strategy in Latin America is driven primarily by economic considerations, and Beijing has generally been reluctant to enter into formal alliances with states there. This hesitance to commit to defending its partners could strain relations with countries in the region that may expect Beijing to support them in the event of a crisis.

However, Trump’s Latin America campaign does provide China with some opportunities. Just as European countries concerned about Russia’s expansionist intentions have become a key market for American arms, it’s possible that Latin America becomes a lucrative destination for Chinese weaponry.

Venezuela is already buying Chinese arms, varying from riot control equipment to missiles and – possibly in the future – fighter jets. China has also sold military equipment to Argentina, Bolivia and Ecuador.

The US appears to be taking an increasingly active interest in Latin America. As outlined in its recently published National Security Strategy, the Trump administration is looking to readjust the US’s “global military presence to address urgent threats” in the western hemisphere.

Having carefully built up its influence in Latin America over many years, China’s leadership will be keeping a keen eye on how events unfold there in the months ahead.

Tom Harper 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 China is watching Trump’s Venezuela campaign closely – https://theconversation.com/why-china-is-watching-trumps-venezuela-campaign-closely-271229

Source: The Conversation – UK – By James Heydon, Associate Professor, Environmental Criminology, University of Nottingham

Wood-burning stoves are booming in the UK, a cosy response to high energy prices and cost of living pressures. But this comes with a hidden cost.

So-called domestic burning is now a leading source of one of the most harmful forms of air pollution, and the UK government’s new environment improvement plan acknowledges the scale of this problem. Yet the tools the UK relies on to control stove emissions were built for a different era – and may not be up to the job.

In the new plan, domestic burning – the use of wood to heat homes – is recognised as a primary contributor to particulate matter pollution, particularly PM2.5.

PM2.5 is considered highly dangerous as the particles are so small – less than 2.5 micrometres across – that the body has difficulty keeping them out. Once inhaled, they penetrate deep into the lungs, pass into the bloodstream and enter nearly every organ, contributing to heart and lung disease. Crucially, experts generally agree that a “safe” level of exposure has yet to be determined.

Although domestic burning features prominently in the new plan, the UK already has one of the world’s longest-standing regimes for controlling stove emissions. The Clean Air Act 1956, introduced after lethal London smogs killed more than 12,000 people in three months, enabled local authorities to create smoke control areas (SCAs) to restrict which appliances and fuels could be used.

Despite some alterations, this system has barely changed in almost 70 years. In fact, SCAs cover very little of England, Wales and Scotland, and enforcement is extremely difficult. Only a fraction of public complaints ever result in a fine.

More importantly, even perfect enforcement would not solve the core problem. SCAs were designed to reduce visible smoke, not invisible PM2.5. Modern “Defra-approved” and “EcoDesign” stoves are exempt because they emit less visible smoke.

But even under ideal operating conditions, they still emit significant levels of PM2.5 – more than 300 times that of a gas boiler. Since 2010, more than 2,500 stove models have been exempted from SCA rules, steadily widening the loophole and gradually weakening the system’s ability to control PM2.5.

This is particularly concerning as wood burning is becoming more popular. The share of UK households using solid fuel increased from 8% in 2018-19 to 11.7% in 2022-23. Installations are also increasing, with the proportion of newly inspected homes containing a stove growing from 7% in 2009 to just over 10% by 2024.

This raises the risk of what researchers call the “dematerialisation fallacy”, where
efficiency gains in individual appliances are cancelled out by growing overall use. Labelling appliances as “cleaner” can unintentionally accelerate this trend by giving the impression that modern stoves are environmentally benign.

New air quality targets

The Environment Improvement Plan introduces two different PM2.5 targets. The first aims to cut annual average concentrations by 46% by 2030, while the second seeks a 30% reduction in the amount of particulates people actually breathe, compared with 2018 levels.

This is intended to maximise public health benefits, since the first target could technically be met by cleaning up a small number of hotspots, while leaving many still exposed to harmful pollution.

These stricter air quality standards bring the UK more in line with EU and World Health Organization targets. However, as the UK’s Air Quality Expert Group recently noted, their achievement will require more “overt” intervention in people’s everyday lives. The plan’s success therefore hinges on wider public engagement and effective communication of air quality issues.

Barriers to cleaner air

Unfortunately, air quality remains relatively low on the public agenda and can become embroiled in wider political disagreements – while domestic burning is often deeply valued.

In a 2024 UK government survey of over 600 people who had burned solid fuels at their property in the past 12 months, 61% considered burning to be a “right everyone should enjoy”.

Of indoor burners, 52% considered it a “necessity” – despite most (99% in England) living in homes connected to mains gas or electricity. What’s more, 39% did not consider burning to be a significant source of air pollution, and 53% did not worry about the potential health impacts.

Economic justifications have also become more pronounced. Household energy bills are much higher today than they were just a few years ago, and the increased cost of living has eroded incomes.

In the same survey, 62% of burners cited financial reasons, while almost half (48%) gave aesthetic reasons for burning. Research from 2020 – when energy and living was cheaper – had these motivations reversed, highlighting how changing circumstances can shift burning justifications.

Comparing the cost of wood burning with central heating is not straightforward. Prices vary depending on the type of wood, the efficiency of the stove, how much of the home is heated, and whether fuel is bought in bulk or sourced for free. What is considered costly also differs between households.

However, recent modelling indicates wood burning is generally more expensive than central heating. Only when most wood is obtained at little or no cost does burning become cheaper, with gas and heat pump systems remaining the more cost-efficient choice in most scenarios.

In this context, the environment improvement plan has its work cut out. While it doesn’t explain how it will achieve the new targets, the plan does commit to consulting on new interventions – a much-needed step, given the limitations of the SCA regime.

Much rests on this consultation. The UK is far from alone in grappling with domestic burning, and a wide range of interventions is available beyond the much-needed reform of the SCAs. These include advertising controls, installation restrictions within certain areas, burn bans during high pollution or low wind episodes, public awareness campaigns, educational resources for schools, and wider access to cleaner heating technologies for those without alternatives.

Ultimately, the complexity of the issue means no single intervention will solve the problem. The environment improvement plan holds much potential, but its success will depend on what comes next.

Cutting emissions from domestic burning requires helping people to understand the health risks, challenging the idea that modern stoves are harmless, and providing practical alternatives for those who rely on burning.

If the government is serious about meeting its new air quality targets, it must treat behaviour, information and public engagement seriously as central pillars of its strategy.

James has previously received funding from Welsh Government’s Local Air Quality Management Fund. He is a member of the Welsh Government Clean Air Advisory Panel, and Promoting Awareness of Air Quality Delivery Group. James also sits on the Scottish Government’s Air Quality Advisory Group.

– ref. Wood-burning stoves face new restrictions – but a loophole from Britain’s smog years is fuelling the problem – https://theconversation.com/wood-burning-stoves-face-new-restrictions-but-a-loophole-from-britains-smog-years-is-fuelling-the-problem-271165

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Trang Dang, Visiting Lecturer in English Literature, Nottingham Trent University

For centuries, nature has been the backdrop to human drama: a stage humanity dominates, exploits, or saves. But what if the planet isn’t just a setting, but a character in its own right – sometimes collaborator, sometimes adversary, sometimes utterly indifferent?

This is the kind of question explored in New Weird fiction, a genre where ecosystems mutate, landscapes rebel and the line between human and nonhuman dissolves. It’s a form of storytelling that asks us to look again at the world we think we know and to question where we fit within it.

The roots of the “weird” go back to the late 19th and early 20th century, to writers like H. P. Lovecraft, Arthur Machen and M. R. James. Their unsettling tales explored incomprehensible forces and cosmic horror. The “Old Weird”, as it’s now known by researchers, borrows from horror, fantasy and science fiction, refusing to stay within the boundaries of any one genre. These writers were fascinated by the limits of human understanding and by realities beyond reason.

The New Weird, which emerged in the 1980s, revived this fascination but with a contemporary twist. Its unruly mix of styles and ideas reflects the complexity – and confusion – of living through today’s ecological crisis.

The climate crisis has a communications problem. How do we tell stories that move people – not just to fear the future, but to imagine and build a better one? This article is part of Climate Storytelling, a series exploring how arts and science can join forces to spark understanding, hope and action.

In the same way that the weird unsettles genre boundaries, it also unsettles the human perspective. Where classic stories centre on human mastery over nature, New Weird fiction turns that hierarchy inside out. It imagines worlds where the human is no longer in control, where the nonhuman acts with agency and where our categories – living or dead, organic or artificial, natural or unnatural – start to blur.

This sense of disorientation isn’t just a stylistic choice. It mirrors the reality of the climate crisis, which has exposed the limits of our ability to understand or predict the world. When wildfires create their own weather systems, or melting permafrost releases ancient viruses, we are reminded that nonhumans don’t follow the rules we’ve set for them. The New Weird invites readers to experience that loss of control not as failure, but as a way to think differently about coexistence.

The ecology of the unknown

One of the most striking examples of New Weird fiction is Jeff VanderMeer’s Southern Reach trilogy. Its first award-winning volume, Annihilation (2014), describes “Area X” – a mysterious wilderness that appears on the US coast. Despite years of investigation by a government agency, the Southern Reach, no one can explain what it is or how it works. The more they study it, the stranger – and more powerful – it becomes.

In Area X, fungi glow, animals behave with eerie intelligence and the landscape seems to rewrite itself. It’s as if the ecosystem has decided to evolve on its own terms. Humans who enter the area are transformed in bizarre and often disturbing ways, blurring the boundary between observer and environment.

For VanderMeer, this isn’t just horror for horror’s sake. The story suggests that nonhuman worlds are full of mysteries that exceed our comprehension. In a time when humans are destabilising the climate, Area X becomes a metaphor for the planet itself – reacting, mutating and asserting its presence. Like the climate system, it doesn’t offer neat explanations or resolutions. Readers, like the novel’s characters, are left searching for meaning in the face of overwhelming strangeness.

These unsettling narratives don’t comfort us with solutions. Instead, they ask us to sit with uncertainty – to feel the planet’s vitality and volatility. The lack of closure in stories like Annihilation keeps us questioning long after we finish reading, mirroring the ongoing and unresolved nature of ecological crisis.

Embracing the monstrous

The New Weird also distances itself from the prejudice of earlier writers, such as Lovecraft’s racism and misogyny. Where Lovecraft imagined difference as monstrous and terrifying, New Weird writers often treat the monstrous as something to be understood or even embraced.

In Acceptance, the final book of the Southern Reach trilogy, the Biologist – one of the main characters – comes to terms with her complex relationship to Area X. What others might see as a nightmare, she begins to understand in a new way. For her, the strange quality of the light and the teeming abundance of life in Area X evoke not fear, but ecstasy.

This vision suggests a different kind of relationship with the world, one that acknowledges the messiness, danger and beauty of ecological entanglement. In this way, the New Weird aligns with contemporary ecological thinkers such as Donna Haraway, Anna Tsing and Timothy Morton, who call for embracing uncertainty and complexity rather than seeking to control or purify the natural world.

Their ideas, like VanderMeer’s fiction, reject the fantasy of a harmonious, stable ecosystem existing for human benefit. Instead, they depict an Earth that is active, unpredictable and deeply interconnected, a place where beauty and horror coexist.

As the planet changes, perhaps our storytelling needs to change, too. The New Weird offers no easy answers, but it helps us practise a different kind of attention: one that accepts uncertainty, honours complexity and feels the pulse of a living, unpredictable Earth.

It reminds us that the world is stranger and more alive than we imagine, and that our old stories of control and mastery no longer serve us.

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This article features references to books that have been included for editorial reasons, and may contain links to bookshop.org. If you click on one of the links and go on to buy something from bookshop.org The Conversation UK may earn a commission.

Trang Dang 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 we need weird stories for a warming world – https://theconversation.com/why-we-need-weird-stories-for-a-warming-world-269156

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Sara Read, Lecturer in English, Loughborough University

When frost sparkles in the morning and our breath is visible as we venture outside, thoughts turn to winter warming treats like mulled wine – a drink full of ingredients that have become synonymous with Christmas.

Mulled wine is made by adding spices such as cinnamon, cloves, ginger, mace and nutmeg to sweetened red wine, which is then warmed gently. Across Europe and Scandinavia, it can be purchased in many pubs, bars and festive markets – while supermarket shelves groan with bottles of readymade mulled wines for you to heat at home.

There are many different English recipes out there, including some dating back to the 14th century – from a collection of manuscripts that later became known as The Forme of Cury. The beverage made by following this recipe would certainly have packed a punch, as it contains several spices from the ginger family including galangal, in addition to the more familiar ones.

And before wine was known as mulled, drinking wine flavoured with spices has a long history. There is a mention of drinking spiced wine in the biblical poem the Song of Solomon, which states: “I would give you spiced wine to drink.”

Read more:
Five historical hot cocktails that are perfect for cold weather

It is thought that spice-infused wine was introduced to Britain by the Romans. An older name for it was “hippocras”, although this was mainly taken as a health tonic – made from spice-infused red or white wine and taken hot or cold.

In The Merchant’s Tale from Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales (1392), the wealthy, elderly knight January takes “ypocras, clarre, and vernage / Of spices hote, to encrese his corrage” (hypocras, clary, and vernage / of spices hot to increase his courage). January sups these three types of spiced wine to boost his virility on his wedding night for his young bride, May.

Diarist and civil servant Samuel Pepys also mentions taking “half-a-pint of mulled sack” – a sweetened Spanish wine – in an almost medicinal way to comfort himself in the middle of a working morning in March 1668, when things had been going wrong for him.

The name mulled wine comes from the Old English mulse – an archaic name for any drink made of honey mixed with water or wine, derived from the Latin word for honey (mel) and still used in modern Welsh as mêl. From mulse we get “musled”, which was used to describe anything that has been “mingled with honey”.

Before the growth of the global sugar trade, honey was the main way that food and drink was sweetened. Vin chaud, the French equivalent of mulled wine, is traditionally sweetened with honey. England imported spiced wine from Montpellier in large quantities from the 13th century, but only those of social status, like Chaucer’s knight January, would have been able to indulge in those days.

Warm sweet and spiced wine continued to be drunk for health and enjoyment throughout the centuries. But in the 18th century, mulled wine evolved again, as reflected in a recipe in Elizabeth Raffald’s The Experienced English House-keeper (1769) for a warm drink thickened with egg yolks:

Grate half a nutmeg into a pint of wine and sweeten to your taste with loaf sugar. Set it over the fire. When it boils, take it off to cool.

Beat the yolks of four eggs exceeding well, add to them a little cold wine, then mix them carefully with your hot wine a little at a time. Pour this backwards and forwards several times till it looks fine and bright.

Set it on the fire and heat a little at a time till it is quite hot and pretty thick, and pour it backwards and forwards several times.

Send it in chocolate cups and serve it up with dry toast, cut in long narrow pieces.

The result of this method is a frothy, velvety smooth confection, enjoyed with dipping toast or biscuits.

Our ancestors didn’t associate mulled wines with Christmas, so it seems likely that the pairing was popularised by Charles Dicken’s 1843 novella A Christmas Carol – like so much of what we now regard as a traditional Christmas.

After Mr Scrooge has seen the error of his miserly ways, he says to Bob Cratchit: “We will discuss your affairs this very afternoon, over a Christmas bowl of Smoking Bishop, Bob!” Smoking Bishop is a recipe for mulled wine that combines port in the wine and uses dried oranges for an added flavour note. The smoke refers to the steam rising from this hot drink.

So this year, as you cup your hands around the warm mug and inhale the fragrant steam coming off your mulled wine, think of the long history you are a part of.

Looking for something good? Cut through the noise with a carefully curated selection of the latest releases, live events and exhibitions, straight to your inbox every fortnight, on Fridays. Sign up here.

Sara Read 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. A brief history of mulled wine – from health tonic to festive treat – https://theconversation.com/a-brief-history-of-mulled-wine-from-health-tonic-to-festive-treat-271341

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Nicholas Dickinson, Lecturer in Politics, University of Exeter

When independent MPs Jeremy Corbyn and Zarah Sultana launched their new political venture in July 2025, they did so under a name that seemed almost deliberately empty: “Your Party”. Initially dismissed as a placeholder, the name is now official, having been narrowly confirmed by members at the party’s inaugural conference in November.

The name won just 37% of the vote against alternatives including “For the Many”, “Popular Alliance” and “Our Party”. The contested nature of this choice, and the peculiar blandness of the winning option, reflects a deeper crisis in how the far left names itself in the contemporary era.

Ten years ago, my research into 20th-century British Marxist groups revealed that these organisations once operated within what I characterise as a coherent naming culture. Terms like “communist”, “workers” and “socialist” were commonly used and carried substantial symbolic weight. Throughout the 20th century, British Leninist groups used these terms not merely as brands but mechanisms to articulate their identity, legitimacy and relationship to the revolutionary tradition.

The patterns were remarkably consistent within each tradition. Orthodox communist groups emerging from the Communist Party of Great Britain (CPGB), which was founded in 1920, showed complete conformity – every single one retained “Communist party” in its name, even decades after splitting from the CPGB.

Anti-revisionist groups, influenced by Maoism, displayed a different pattern. Of the 11 groups I studied, nine used “communist”. More significantly, seven appended “Marxist-Leninist” to their names – an attempt to reconnect some of the smallest and most peripheral groups, often with only a handful of members, back to a grander tradition of messianic leaders.

Most revealing were the Trotskyist groups. Of 13 major organisations, only five used “communist” at any point. Of the remainder, six instead opted for “socialist” in their name and six included the word “revolutionary”. The word “workers” featured in four names. This diversity masked fundamental instability in leftist politics. Most Trotskyist groups changed their names at least twice.

The left’s endless internecine disputes on nomenclature were infamously satirised in Monty Python’s riff on the idea of the Judean People’s Front. It’s hard not to detect some of these dynamics also at play in Your Party’s troubled launch.

When Lenin rebranded “social democracy” as “communism” in 1917, he was not simply changing a label but investing enormous symbolic capital in a term that would shape leftwing politics for seven decades. The Communist Party of Great Britain, founded in 1920, became the anchor of this naming culture in Britain, with splinter groups and rivals forced to negotiate their position relative to these established terms.

This naming system became increasingly dysfunctional over time. By the 1970s, even terms like “party” had become almost impossible to define coherently within the Leninist tradition. Was a “party” the revolutionary vanguard waiting for its moment in history, or a conventional electoral organisation competing for votes?

When the Socialist Workers Party emerged in 1977 from its predecessor International Socialist, it attempted to embody both definitions simultaneously, presenting itself as both a mass political party and a disciplined Leninist cadre. This contradiction contributed to rapid, often confusing shifts in strategy that alienated members and observers alike.

Whose party?

Your Party emerges from the wreckage of this collapsed naming system. The term “communist” was largely unusable in British politics by 1991. “Marxist-Leninist” had become a punchline even within the far left. “Workers” sounded antiquated in a deindustrialised Britain. Even “socialist” carries decades of baggage. What remained? A name so generic it barely qualified as one at all.

The genius and the problem of the name Your Party are inseparable. The name refuses to make the traditional ideological commitments that far-left names once signalled. It does not claim to be the vanguard party, does not invoke workers or socialism, and does not even claim ownership of itself through terms like “our party” – which, tellingly, came last in the naming vote. Instead, it performs a nominal sleight-of-hand, suggesting both maximal democracy (“it’s yours!”) and minimal commitment.

This vagueness might appear strategically savvy in an age of widespread distrust of traditional party structures. But the chaotic conference that ratified the name suggests otherwise. The bitter disputes over collective versus individual leadership, the expulsions of members, and Sultana’s boycott of the first day all point to unresolved issues. When 20th-century Trotskyist groups battled over whether to call themselves a “league”, “tendency” or “party”, those were not merely semantic disputes but arguments about organisational structure and democratic accountability, encoded in nomenclature.

Your Party attempts to avoid these arguments by adopting a name that articulates no clear position. But the politics of naming cannot be escaped so easily. What does “Your” signify when members cannot agree on basic questions of leadership or membership rules? Whose party is it, ultimately?

The polling data tells a sobering story. Support for Your Party fell from 18% in July 2025 to just 12% by November, while the Green party, with its clear brand identity, experienced a membership surge. Perhaps voters and activists sense the same problem that plagued late 20th-century Leninist groups – when you cannot articulate what your name signifies, you cannot sustain a coherent political project.

The collapse of Leninist naming culture reflected the exhaustion of a symbolic system where words like communist and workers had been stretched to accommodate too many contradictions. Your Party represents an attempt to build something new without that vocabulary. But in trying to avoid the old mistakes, it may have created a new one – a name so empty that it cannot provide the symbolic foundation a political organisation requires.

Nicholas Dickinson 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. Your Party: if the name sounds terrible, there’s a good reason for it – https://theconversation.com/your-party-if-the-name-sounds-terrible-theres-a-good-reason-for-it-271419

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Elaine Jackson, PhD Candidate, University of Glasgow; University of the West of Scotland

On the surface, the rationale for the UK government’s proposals to limit the use of jury trials in England and Wales is pragmatic. Over 78,000 crown court cases remain unresolved, creating years-long delays for victims and defendants alike.

But among those of us who research jury behaviour and decision-making, these proposals raise a deeper debate. Some argue that juries are too biased, too unreliable to deliver justice.

Their hope is that if we could replace them with trained legal professionals, we might finally reduce the role that bias plays in the courtroom. But is this even possible?

All observation is “theory-laden”. Scientists, politicians, judges and jurors are not immune to their biases and worldviews influencing their decision-making.

Both judges and juries bring biases to the courtroom. The critical difference is that juries are more diverse than a single judge. Today, 89% of judges are white, 61% are men, and around a third attended private school. Fewer than 10% come from lower socioeconomic backgrounds.

This class and educational homogeneity matters profoundly. Judges who attended private school and Russell Group universities share not just demographic characteristics but formative experiences. Their relationships with authority, economic security, educational advantage and professional networks are likely to be less diverse than those of a jury.

Different social positions provide access to different knowledge. Someone who attended private school, joined chambers and rose through the judiciary simply hasn’t lived through experiences that would provide insight into many people’s lives.

For example, this might include how economic precarity affects people’s decisions, how working-class communities relate to police authority, or how educational disadvantages affect your ability to navigate bureaucratic systems.

These aren’t biases in the sense of prejudice. They are inevitable limitations of a single perspective.

Read more:
Limiting jury trials will harm minority ethnic victims and defendants, research shows

When judges assess whether behaviour was “reasonable” or a complainant’s response was “credible”, they are making ethical evaluations that mix facts with values. A judge evaluating whether a working-class defendant’s actions were reasonable brings their own class experience to that judgment, whether they recognise it or not.

Twelve randomly selected citizens bring 12 different life experiences. Through deliberation, they must make those experiences visible and justify their interpretation to each other.

If a judge makes a decision on their own, only their own biases will influence the verdict. In a jury, consensus needs to be reached. Different opinions and perspectives will shape the outlooks of others. This makes the verdict more informed by community beliefs, rather than from specific sections of the community.

The human “bias” we worry about in juries is actually the diversity of experience and judgment that may improve group decision-making. Homogeneity masquerades as objectivity. Trials should be decided by the people – and the various human experiences they bring to the courtroom.

A jury drawn from the electoral register might include someone who left school at 16, someone who has experienced unemployment or housing insecurity, someone who’s worked in manual labour, or someone from a community where police relations are fraught. These aren’t just different backgrounds, they are different forms of knowledge about how society works for many people.

This diversity is important for both defendants and victims. Evidence shows that judges may be more likely to convict defendants compared with juries.

Any changes towards judge-only trials may disadvantage future defendants when compared with the current system, where a defendant can choose the option of a jury trial for certain types of offence.

How jury deliberation reduces bias

Our research – part of Elaine Jackson’s PhD – investigated Scottish jury deliberations in rape cases, revealing what kinds of bias jurors bring to them by staging a series of mock trials.

The research shows the influence of rape myths – stereotypes and false assumptions about how rape victims and perpetrators behave – in the courtroom, and how juries can both perpetuate and mitigate their influence.

Across 90 jurors in one mock trial, we identified 180 instances of rape myths. These included victim blaming, demanding impossible proof, framing assault as “heat of the moment”, and using “real rape” stereotypes such as expecting severe injuries and immediate reporting. These myths were pervasive across juror populations, not simply held by a few outliers.

But we also observed that jury deliberation could challenge these assumptions. Both guilty verdicts occurred when a strong foreperson (the jury’s spokesperson) voiced immediate challenges to these myths, or trauma-informed jurors countered these frameworks. For example, when one juror suggested that the accused offering wine to the victim meant sexual invitation, another challenged them, asking: “According to what logic?”

We believe it’s positive that the UK government’s proposals will retain jury trials in cases of rape and murder. In serious crimes, we need diversity of thought and opinion in our decision-making.

This collective scrutiny, 12 different perspectives negotiating with each other, is something an individual judge cannot replicate.

While judges may consult colleagues, at trial stage they ultimately decide alone – without a formal deliberation requiring them to defend their interpretations to others who have equal decision-making authority. A diverse jury has this built-in corrective mechanism, which is why it must remain a part of the UK’s legal system.

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

– ref. Jurors aren’t impartial – that’s exactly why they are so important to justice – https://theconversation.com/jurors-arent-impartial-thats-exactly-why-they-are-so-important-to-justice-271322

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Sam Power, Lecturer in Politics, University of Bristol

When the latest figures on donations to political parties were released, it was revealed that businessman Christopher Harborne had donated £9 million to Reform. Harborne, who lives in Thailand, made his fortune on aviation and cryptocurrency. Reform leader Nigel Farage insists he wants nothing in return for the money and that the two speak once a month or every six weeks.

Harborne’s is the biggest one-off donation by a living individual in British history. But he’s far from alone in giving massive amounts to parties. Financier Stuart Wheeler gave £5 million to the Conservatives in 2001 which is actually £9.5 million in today’s money. Frank Hester donated £15 million to the Tories just before the 2024 election but broke it up a little bit so nobody seems to care or remember.

Harborne’s gift amounts to a quite significant boost to Reform’s coffers. For context, Reform received £1.3 million in the reporting period directly prior to this one, and just £70,000 in the same period a year ago (donations figures that aggregate to over £11,180 are released quarterly).

But as I have shown elsewhere, political donations are cyclical and the receipt of them tends to ratchet up in advance of elections. Next May – with elections in Scotland, Wales and a seemingly bruising set of locals set for Labour – is seen to be a time where Reform can lay a marker as the “true” opposition party. So it’s less surprising to see such big figures this far out of a general election.

The fact that Harborne has donated to the Conservatives in the past, as well as to Boris Johnson’s private office when he was prime minister, has been taken by some as indicative of a donor exodus from the Tories to Farage’s outfit. But that’s premature, we’ve seen some small movement to Reform in the figures since the 2024 election, and several stories about Reform-curious Tory donors but no real sea change in this respect.

The research is also fairly settled that donors tend to give money to parties for three reasons: they agree with them (they are ideological), they like the access it provides (they are intimates) or they want something in return (they are investors).

There is a long history of donors as pragmatic investors, thinking long and hard about how their money can be best spent to achieve their aims and effectively spreading their bets (though that is much more common in systems of proportional representation).

As one donor said during the 2024 election, when it became increasingly apparent Rishi Sunak was failing to bring in significant amounts of money: “Any self-respecting businessperson conducts due diligence before an investment decision. Time will tell whether smart money will back Mr Sunak”. Reader, it didn’t.

So, while donors do tend to be ideologues in the UK, there is some precedent for them changing lanes. The aforementioned Wheeler ended up as Ukip treasurer, for example. And given that British politics is increasingly characterised by fragmentation, it would be little surprise if donors started following the voters in shopping around.

Rise of the mega donor

What this donation also speaks to, though, is an increasingly worrying trend in British politics, which is the rise of the mega-donor. The very rich have always made up the vast majority of the donor class but there are signs this has become supercharged in recent years.

As investigative journalist Peter Geoghegan points out, 75% of all donations to Reform and its predecessor the Brexit Party since 2019 have come from three men: Harborne, deputy leader Richard Tice and businessman Jeremy Hosking.

Hester’s donations to the Conservatives in the run up to the 2024 election, meanwhile, equated to about 63% of the party’s entire spend on the campaign.

When almost exactly a year ago Elon Musk mooted a £70 million donation to Reform, which never materialised, it felt like a canary in the coalmine. That, if something wasn’t done, the UK was moving towards an increasingly Americanised system of glorified oligarchy.

In the US, remember, it’s no longer even a case of the 1% having all the power. Across the pond, the top 0.01% of donors accounted for 50% of all funds raised in 2024.

There is currently no upper limit on political donations. Parties have debated bringing one in for 25 years but can never agree to actually doing so – despite the fact the public (including Reform voters) backs the idea.

This is because any significant cap set at, say, £10,000 a year (as suggested by the Committee on Standards in Public Life and Transparency International) or £100,000 (which is think-tank the IPPR’s preference) would mean injecting more state funding into the system. Which the public hates just about as much (if not more) than the idea of mega-donors.

This leaves everyone in a “damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t” system of inertia and paralysis. It’s the kind of frustrating state of affairs which causes me to write book chapters with titles like “What do you do when the voters are wrong?” (which is reason #51 that I could never be an MP) and a similarly frustrated political scientist to remark: “parties need money: but not mine, not from my taxes, and not from interest groups”.

My solution, when faced with this, is that doing something is better than nothing. It’s why I think there’s utility in what I call a “democracy backstop” cap of £1 million.

It would do little to allay public fears that the very rich have outsize influence on politics, but I’m not sure there’s a limit low enough that can, and I do (literally) have a PhD’s worth of research to back me up on that. It would, though, put the brakes on just a little bit.

Let’s not forget that Labour has said it will introduce an elections bill in this parliament. That means it is not quite too late, but the time to act is very much now.

Sam Power has received funding from the Economic and Social Research Council and the Engineering and Physical Sciences Research Council.

– ref. Reform’s £9m gift and the rise of the political mega-donor – https://theconversation.com/reforms-9m-gift-and-the-rise-of-the-political-mega-donor-271428