Source: The Conversation – UK – By Lynda Yorke, Associate Professor (Senior Lecturer) in Critical Physical Geography, Bangor University
Nestled between the Caerneddau mountains and the Afon (River) Conwy, the small village of Dolgarrog in north Wales looks peaceful. But the huge hydro-electric pipes that run down the hillside are a constant reminder of the village’s history, and of how the same source of power that once brought prosperity also unleashed disaster.
On November 2 1925, the dam at Llyn Eigiau burst. A torrent of water and boulders thundered down the valley, sweeping through the northern part of Dolgarrog and destroying the small settlement of Porth Llŵyd. Sixteen people were killed.
One hundred years later, Dolgarrog’s story is not just one of tragedy. The village has become what its residents call a living memorial. It’s a place where disaster is not only remembered, but woven into the landscape, the law and the community’s sense of itself.
At 8pm on that night, the inhabitants of Dolgarrog felt the force of a catastrophic sequential engineering failure in the mountains above.
Two reservoirs, Llyn Eigiau and lower Coedty, supplied electricity to the local aluminium works, an industry that sustained the village. But the upper dam at Eigiau had been built on a foundation of glacial clay and boulders. After a dry summer, the clay had cracked. When autumn rains came, water seeped through. The dam wall gave way, unleashing a surge down the afon Porth Llŵyd.
This flood rapidly reached the lower Coedty dam, overwhelming its embankment. As the second dam failed, the water rushed like a massive tsunami wave down the steep gorge of afon Porth Llŵyd. Ripping out the hydro-electric pipeline, it created a deadly flow of water, debris and boulders that destroyed homes, and swept villagers into the afon Conwy.
Newsreel footage depicting the aftermath of the Dolgarrog dam disaster.
From local tragedy to national protection
The Dolgarrog disaster was not the first dam failure in the UK, but it was the one that forced government action. Public outrage over the deaths of 16 villagers led directly to the Reservoirs (Safety Provisions) Act 1930, the first law in the UK to regulate dam safety.
For the first time, large reservoirs had to be inspected and supervised by qualified, independent engineers. This ended the era when private companies could self-regulate. It marked a major shift in how the UK governed risk and infrastructure.
The event was codified into national law and updated in 1975. It created an invisible, yet mandatory, safety structure that continues to protect people today.
If the law is an unseen memorial, the land around Dolgarrog is a visible one. The remnants of the Llyn Eigiau dam wall still stand, a stark reminder of the engineering flaws that caused the disaster.
Downstream toward the Coedty dam, the torn-up peat moorland is barely visible. But the afon Porth Llŵyd gorge still shows the impact of the powerful flood, constrained by its bedrock walls. As the flood waters thundered down the gorge, they shattered, split and tore at the bedrock walls, ripping huge boulders from their rest.
The boulders dumped at the gorge’s outlet, formed a huge fan of rock debris still visible at the roadside – a chilling, preserved record of the suffering.
That landscape tells a story, not just of destruction but of recovery. The village’s memorial walk, created in 2004 around the boulder field, traces the path of the flood and symbolises the community’s ability to reclaim the space. It is both a site of reflection and an everyday walking route. This is cultural resilience and proof that remembrance and daily life coexist.
Disasters are not just events of the past: shape how we individually and collectively experience places, politics and society. Dolgarrog’s residents are marking the centenary with a programme of events under the banner “Dolgarrog Past, Present and Future”. These include commissioned art, musical performances, history projects and a lantern parade – acts of remembrance that also look forward.
Lessons for today
The lessons of Dolgarrog are as urgent now as they were a century ago. In an age of climate change, when extreme rainfall and flood risks are rising, the need for strong safety standards and accountable infrastructure has never been greater.
The 1925 disaster shows why state oversight of private infrastructure is vital when public lives depend on it. It also offers a model of resilience, one that is legislative as well as communal.
A hundred years on, the memory of the 16 villagers who died is not only preserved in stone and ceremony, but in the law itself, and in the ongoing safety of every major reservoir across the UK. Dolgarrog remains a living memorial to both the dangers of neglect and the power of collective renewal.
Lynda Yorke receives funding from NERC, British Council and Learned Society of Wales.
Giuseppe Forino has received funding from NERC, British Council and Learned Society of Wales.
Every few years, a familiar anxiety resurfaces in British public discourse: that sharia law is establishing a parallel legal system and threatening the sovereignty of English law. Those fears were reignited following Donald Trump’s recent speech to the UN, where he claimed that London wants “to go to sharia law”.
Such claims ignore two realities. First, that the English legal system is adaptive and capable of accommodating diversity. And second, that having multiple legal systems is – far from undermining British law – an inevitable legacy of Britain’s colonial history. Looking to that history, it should be no surprise that it is a feature of modern, multicultural Britain.
My research shows how British colonial administrators deliberately designed plural legal systems to sustain imperial rule. The colonial state recognised that it could not rule diverse populations by imposing English law on multicultural societies.
In northern Nigeria, this approach became a defining feature of colonial governance. English law operated alongside Islamic courts, which handled family disputes and aspects of land tenure. Allowing limited autonomy for Africans under sharia was both a pragmatic and political strategy. It maintained local legitimacy while ensuring that English law remained supreme in cases of conflict.
A similar arrangement existed in British India. This legacy continues to shape how law functions in postcolonial, multicultural Britain today.
How sharia operates in Britain today
There is no separate sharia legal system in the UK. What exist are sharia councils and the Muslim Arbitration Tribunal. The sharia councils have no statutory authority under English law. They may be used to resolve personal disputes such as marriage, divorce and inheritance.
The Muslim Arbitration Tribunal, in existence since the early 2000s, operates under the Arbitration Act 1996. This law allows private arbitration between consenting adults in civil disputes. But such tribunals must operate within the boundaries of English law.
Sharia councils have a slightly longer history, dating back to the 1980s. Their number and activities are difficult to track: in 2009, rightwing thinktank Civitas approximated at least 85, while a 2012 study by a researcher at the University of Reading identified 30.
No comprehensive survey has been conducted since, leaving the exact number uncertain. This lack of official oversight fuels the perception that the councils pose a challenge to Britain’s legal sovereignty.
But, as a 2018 Home Office review confirmed, sharia councils hold no legal jurisdiction in England and Wales.
The review did acknowledge concerns raised by women’s rights groups about gender inequality and lack of representation of women in some councils. It concluded that these issues called for better regulation and oversight, and that the “state would be justified in intervening” in bad practices by sharia councils that disadvantage women.
It also found that public fears are fuelled by misleading terms, used in both the media and sometimes by councils themselves. For example, referring to the councils as “courts” and their members as “judges” reinforces misconceptions about the existence of a parallel legal system.
Multifaith Britain and the law
English law is capable of accommodating and regulating diverse legal practices without losing its sovereignty. Besides sharia councils, other faith-based arbitration bodies exist in Britain.
The Beth Din courts, for example, serve the Jewish community, offering guidance on issues of marriage and divorce. While they cannot compel a divorce, they can encourage or persuade a husband to grant a religious divorce certificate.
The Roman Catholic Church, which complies with the Marriage Act 1949, operates its own tribunals to consider annulments under canon law. None of these institutions undermine the authority of English courts.
The same applies to sharia councils. Participation is voluntary: individuals choose to use these forums, often to resolve family or inheritance matters in line with their faith. English civil courts remain fully available to them.
Following concerns about the protection of women’s rights in the councils, the 2018 Home Office review recommended stronger safeguards. These include requiring civil registration of marriages, greater transparency in decision-making, and education about legal rights.
The review found that nearly all users of the sharia councils were women, with over 90% seeking an Islamic divorce. Many were unable to obtain a civil divorce because their marriages had never been registered under English law, leaving them without legal recourse in the civil legal system.
The review stressed that its proposed safeguards were designed to protect vulnerable women, rather than suppress or prohibit sharia councils from operating. This recognises that the demand for religious divorce will continue regardless of sharia prohibition.
The UK government accepted the review’s findings but has not established a regulatory body. This suggests that most safeguards are currently dependent on voluntary good practice within the councils.
Postcolonial legal pluralism
In a postcolonial, multifaith society like Britain, legal pluralism is not a sign of a fragmented legal sovereignty – it’s an acknowledgement of social reality. The persistence of sharia in modern Britain reflects a society still negotiating how to govern cultural and religious difference through law, as the empire once did.
Other postcolonial societies have accepted this. In India, different personal law systems for Hindus, Muslims and Christians coexist under one constitution. There is an ongoing debate in the country about how to balance faith-based identity with the rights guaranteed by the secular state.
The same question now faces Britain. The challenge is not whether to recognise the arbitrating powers of sharia councils, but how to regulate them fairly – ensuring that every citizen, regardless of faith, can exercise their rights within the boundaries of English law.
Femi Owolade 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.
A pack of Nanotyrannus attacks a juvenile T. rexAnthony Hutchings, CC BY-NC-ND
A new specimen of one of the most controversial species of dinosaur has the
potential to overturn decades of research on the T rex.
Nanotyrannus, the “miniature T rex”, has been the centre of one of the fiercest debates in palaeontology. Scientists have long argued over whether the Nanotyrannus is a separate species or just a young T rex.
The controversy was ignited in 1999 when the only known fossil of a Nanotyrannus was found to belong to a juvenile. More complete fossils have since failed to produce any conclusive answers because they were all also found to be juvenile.
But the debate surrounding the identity of Nanotyrannus may finally be settled. A new fossil specimen, described in the journal Nature, is the smoking gun researchers have been looking for: an adult Nanotyrannus.
Lindsay Zanno, associate research professor at North Carolina State University, with the dueling dinosaurs fossil. N.C. State University, CC BY-NC-ND
Known as the duelling dinosaurs, this fossil preserves an almost-complete
Nanotyrannus and Triceratops entombed together. They seem frozen in combat (whether they were actually fighting when they became buried in the Earth’s sediment remains to be tested). Although the fossil was discovered in Montana, US back in 2006, it was under private ownership until the North Carolina Museum of Natural Sciences purchased it in 2020. Now accessible to scientists, the true nature of this remarkable fossil can be revealed for the first time.
The researchers have confirmed that Nanotyrannus is a separate miniature type of tyrannosaur by demonstrating this specimen belonged to a near fully-grown adult. The age and maturity of dinosaurs can be assessed by looking at the inside of their bones. Dinosaurs grew in cycles of faster and slower growth which produced distinct layers of bone. When cut open and examined under a microscope, these marks can be counted like rings in a tree.
Using this method, the researchers could determine that the Nanotyrannus in the duelling dinosaurs was at least 14 years old when it died. The researchers also found its rate of growth had slowed significantly in its final years, indicating that this individual was nearly at full body size.
So just how small was this miniature T rex? Nanotyrannus is only around one tenth of the size of a fully grown T rex. Being one of the largest predators to ever walk the Earth, however, T rex would make most animals look small. The duelling dinosaurs Nanotyrannus is over four metres long and estimated to have weighed over 700kg – that’s as heavy as some of the very largest polar bears.
Other specimens of Nanotyrannus are even bigger. The almost complete skeleton known as Jane, discovered in 2001 also in Montana, is estimated at over a ton, larger than any land predator alive today.
The researchers have found enough differences in the shape of bones in the skulls of the duelling dinosaurs fossil and the larger Jane to separate them into two different species; Nanotyrannus lancensis and the newly-named Nanotyrannus lethaeus.
Other than small size, another feature that the researchers have used to distinguish Nanotyrannus from T rex is the number of teeth. Despite its much smaller mouth, Nanotyrannus could no doubt pack a powerful bite with its over 60 teeth. T rex had 40-50 teeth in its jaws.
The teeth themselves are also different. Nicknamed “lethal bananas”, the teeth of T rex are curved and serrated like steak knives. These unique teeth are perfect for slicing into flesh and could crush bone. By contrast, some of the teeth of Nanotyrannus are straight, chisel-like and without serrations, more closely resembling those of other types of carnivorous dinosaur.
T rex had famously tiny arms, the source of many jokes and dinosaur impressions. Nanotyrannus does not
A massive anti-drug raid in Rio de Janeiro left 132 people dead in the early hours of October 28 as Brazil’s security forces confronted one of the country’s biggest crime gangs. It was one of the deadliest security operations in modern Brazilian history.
Around 2,500 officers descended on the favelas of Complexo do Alemão and Complexo da Penha, strongholds of Brazil’s oldest criminal group, Comando Vermelho. There were more than 80 arrests.
Beyond the immediate shock, the operation raises deeper questions about the resurgence of militarised policing models across Latin America. These are often labelled under the banner of mano dura – the “iron-fist” approach.
Mano dura policies prioritise forceful state intervention, military-style policing and mass incarceration as mechanisms to reassert territorial control and deter organised crime. These strategies have a long history in Latin America, particularly in central America during the early 2000s, when governments in El Salvador, Honduras and Guatemala adopted militarised responses in the face of rising gang violence.
What distinguishes the current wave is its intensity and the geopolitical narratives that accompany it. Rather than being seen as exceptional, mano dura is increasingly treated as a legitimate and even necessary model of governance in the face of criminal insurgency and institutional fragility.
The Rio raid appears to be part of this broader shift. Brazil has long grappled with powerful criminal factions. The gangs control territory, levy taxes and provide informal governance in the favelas and prison systems of Rio.
As fears of gang power have risen, so has support for militarised intervention. Many see a hardline approach as the only viable means of restoring order. The electoral success of Jair Bolsonaro in 2018, built on promises of aggressive policing and the expansion of military influence in civilian affairs, reflected this sentiment.
The current president, Luiz Inácio “Lula” da Silva, has positioned himself as a moderate alternative. But this week’s raid suggests that the structural pressures driving mano dura politics persist across administrations, regardless of their ideology.
International political dynamics have played a significant role in the resurgence of militarised security strategies. The rhetoric of “law and order” popularised globally by figures such as Donald Trump has reframed domestic security – not as a social or economic challenge, but as a war requiring overwhelming force.
Trump’s statements praising extrajudicial killings of drug traffickers and his advocacy for deploying the military to “take back” American cities have resonated beyond the US.
It would be inaccurate to claim that US politics directly cause security crackdowns in Latin America. But it contributes to a widely accepted narrative which frames displays of state violence as decisive leadership rather than as democratic backsliding.
Militarised policing
This phenomenon aligns with a broader global trend in which states use militarised policing as a tool of political legitimacy. In Latin America, leaders across the political spectrum have capitalised on public fear of crime to justify extraordinary security measures.
Nayib Bukele, El Salvador’s strongman leader, has achieved record approval ratings after implementing mass detentions and militarised crackdowns on gangs. In Brazil, the Rio raid may be interpreted in this light. It was a demonstration of state authority designed to reassure voters that the government is willing to use force to restore order.
But there are significant risks to this approach. Historical evidence from Latin America indicates that mano dura policies often deliver only temporary reductions in violence. Meanwhile they tend to undermine institutional legitimacy in the long term.
Mass raids and lethal confrontations can fragment criminal organisations, leading to splinter groups that generate further instability. Militarised policing can deepen mistrust between communities and the state.
This is particularly the case in marginalised areas where residents already feel excluded from formal institutions. Excessive use of force without due process risks normalising extrajudicial killings and diminishing accountability, eroding democratic norms.
The Rio raid also reflects a changing power dynamic in the region. Criminal organisations such as Comando Vermelho have evolved beyond their drug-trafficking origins. They now operate as parallel governance systems.
They control territory and the provision of welfare. Many of these gangs wield considerable political influence.
In this context, mano dura is not only a security policy. It’s become more of a response to perceived challenges to the state’s power.
The use of large-scale force can be understood as a performative attempt to reassert territorial dominance. This aligns with what some scholars describe as the “punitive turn” in Latin America. Countries like Brazil increasingly use coercive power to demonstrate authority rather than to resolve underlying drivers of violence.
Cycles of violence
There is a broader question. Will this approach achieve lasting security or will it merely reproduce cycles of violence? In countries where judicial systems are weak and prisons are overcrowded, militarised operations often funnel recruits into criminal networks rather than dismantling them. Brazil’s own experience illustrates this.
Many of the country’s most powerful criminal factions, including Comando Vermelho itself, originated within the prison system during periods of mass incarceration.
It is also important to recognise that mano dura policies are often implemented in the absence of viable alternatives. Policymakers face immense pressure from citizens to deal with this security crisis. In some cases, communities themselves may call for military intervention, viewing it as the only way to dislodge criminal control.
This creates a security paradox. While forceful interventions may be politically popular, they can inadvertently reinforce the very conditions that allow criminal organisations to thrive.
The Rio raid therefore presents a critical moment for reassessing security governance in Latin America. It highlights the challenges governments face in balancing public demands for safety with the need to preserve democratic institutions and human rights. It also raises questions about the role of international influence in shaping security policy.
The global resurgence of punitive approaches, legitimised by leaders like Trump, has helped reshape the boundaries of what is considered acceptable in state responses to crime. As governments face growing security challenges, the appeal of mano dura will continue to grow.
Yet the question remains whether these tactics represent a solution to violence or a symptom of deeper institutional crisis.
Adriana Marin 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.
In the wake of the 2007-08 global financial crisis, green finance has been increasingly celebrated as a way to tackle environmental challenges. Banks, investment funds and insurers have rolled out a growing range of green products, from green bonds to sustainability-linked loans. This momentum is encouraged by international environmental efforts such as the Paris climate agreement.
By aligning financial flows with sustainability goals, the world can supposedly “green finance” its way into a sustainable future.
But beneath this green spectacle lies a more complicated reality. Green finance refers to a wide-ranging mix of private and public funds, products and practices. For example, there’s no consensus regarding what makes a bond green.
There is also little clarity around what current environmental, social, governance (ESG) frameworks – which encourage businesses and authorities to disclose and monitor their environmental and social performance – are truly achieving.
Ever wondered how to spend or invest your money in ways that actually benefit people and planet? Or are you curious about the connection between insurance and the climate crisis?
Green Your Money is a new series from the business and environment teams at The Conversation exploring how to make money really matter. Practical and accessible insights from financial experts in the know.
In 2015, the former Bank of England governor and current Canadian prime minister, Mark Carney, insisted that finance can and must urgently account for climate risks. Meanwhile, Stuart Kirk, former global head of responsible investments at high street bank HSBC, argued that these risks were overstated and too far in the future to be material.
Environmental issues have become a concern for financiers, but not necessarily out of commitment to improving planetary health – rather due to reporting costs, transition risks and reputational pressure. High-profile greenwashing scandals, such as “green bonds” allegedly linked to deforestation in Sumatra, have further eroded trust. This raises questions about whether green finance is more a branding exercise than transformation.
ESG investing explained.
In the face of these ambiguities, the environmental sciences are involved in the expansion of green finance. As social scientists we have been following these developments, wondering whether they may help us pin down robust ways to develop green finance.
Some companies are now using science-based targets (emission reduction goals aligned with climate science), net zero transitions pathways or roadmaps, and high-integrity carbon credits (verified purchases of direct air capture credits to offset greenhouse gas emissions).
Most of these claim to rely on rigorous calculations. The language of science grants objectivity and legitimacy. At its most basic level, this “sciencewashing” uses the vocabulary and authority of science to claim sustainability outcomes.
Green finance also provides many employment opportunities for environmental scientists who can work as consultants, auditors and certifiers, to assess the quality of green claims. Many startups have emerged, offering a range of high-tech services to provide environmental data to companies. That includes monitoring deforestation through remote sensing or using sounds to analyse wildlife activity.
Green finance-related industries are flourishing and more and more environmental graduates are being recruited to quantify emissions, build risk metrics, monitor changes in biodiversity and verify credits.
Sciencewashing
Drawing on five years of research and combining data emerging from participation in green finance conferences and seminars, interviews and document analysis, our study warns against different forms of sciencewashing.
Financial centres, like London, thrive on green finance but beyond them the benefits are unclear. Taljat David/Shutterstock
Mounting evidence suggests a gap between the suggested possibilities and the actual outcomes of green finance. Many green finance products appear to serve financial markets and the wealthiest investors more than nature or vulnerable communities.
Even more concerning are the unintended consequences. Far from levelling the playing field, green finance can exacerbate inequality. For example, communities have been displaced to make room for renewable energy projects or offset schemes.
This creates what are known as green sacrifice zones: areas where environmental harm or social costs are tolerated in the name of advancing “green” goals.
Poorer countries often face higher borrowing costs in the name of climate risk, while wealthy economies continue to access cheaper capital. Insurance premiums are also rising in climate-vulnerable regions, pricing out those least able to afford them. So green finance can make the situation for the most vulnerable populations worse.
In its current form, green finance will most likely sustain business as usual, leaving the causes of environmental crisis untouched.
For green finance to deliver the transformative change its advocates promise, it must address the deeper political and social issues, such as the role of public authorities in regulating finance, or the relationship between green investment and global inequality.
If green finance is to serve collective wellbeing rather than the interests of a privileged few, we need rigorous and proactive public regulations and better public debates on what green finance ought to account for.
Don’t have time to read about climate change as much as you’d like?
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.
This roundup of The Conversation’s climate coverage was first published in our award-winning weekly climate action newsletter, Imagine.
Have you recycled today? Opted to walk or get public transport instead of taking the car? We all make dozens of small choices every day, each with environmental pros and cons. Very often, these choices come down to how and where we as consumers spend our money. But one thing we probably don’t think about much is what our cash is doing when we’re not spending it.
Everyday bank deposits by “ordinary” people are a quiet powerhouse of potential for environmental change. In the UK alone, billions of pounds are deposited every month. Most of this cash is swirling around in the global economy, supporting industry and innovation, as well as individuals. The uncomfortable truth, though, is that this investment might be pumped into environmentally or socially damaging sectors that we wouldn’t support in our day-to-day lives.
Ever wondered how to spend or invest your money in ways that actually benefit people and planet? Or are you curious about the connection between insurance and the climate crisis?
Green Your Money is a new series from the business and environment teams at The Conversation exploring how to make money really matter. Practical and accessible insights from financial experts in the know.
When it comes to shifts towards greener living, consumers wield huge amounts of power. After all, they can determine which companies – and cultures – thrive. But beyond consumer spaces like the supermarket or the car showroom, it’s banks that decide how and where much of the world’s money enters the economy and which sectors benefit.
Styliani Panetsidou and Angelos Synapis are finance experts at the Centre for Resilient Business and Society at Coventry University. They say that in this age of climate crisis, decisions on where banks lend our money are immensely powerful. “To put it simply,” they say, “lending for housing can expand the property market, financing renewable energy can support low-carbon infrastructure, while funding coal mines or oil and gas extraction may risk locking in future carbon emissions over decades.”
Banks want returns, though. Historically, oil and gas have provided these. But in this sector too, the power of the consumer is becoming more evident and transparency around investments is slowly improving. Panetsidou and Synapis add: “With this in mind, perhaps it is time to consider whether the bank we select could subtly influence environmental outcomes.”
But still, investments in low-carbon energy companies fall short of those pumped into oil, gas and coal. There are banks out there that exclude fossil fuels from their loans and investments, but they’re not the default. Part of the problem could be that the consumer-bank relationship is often settled quite early in life. It’s even been said that we’re more likely to break up with our partner than with our bank.
This psychological inertia around banking has a strong grip, despite the potential for a simple switch to cut our environmental impact. Marcel Lukas, banking and finance expert at the University of St Andrews, says that despite systems that make changing banks easy and secure, it’s still not a transition that most consumers are likely to make. “The process works, but behaviour lags.”
He suggests three psychological hacks to rewire our preference for stability – and these behavioural changes can extend beyond banking. Lukas says they can “also shape decisions about savings products, energy tariffs and mobile contracts – choices that all come with environmental consequences”.
The intersection between climate and finance is rarely so evident as in the world of insurance. Extreme weather events aren’t just devastating for households and property owners, surging levels of weather-related claims are pushing the insurance industry to breaking point.
Repeated claims can leave homeowners sitting in a property that’s uninsurable and unmortgageable. The knock-on from this is falling house values, and a looming threat to the wider financial system worldwide.
Meilan Yan, financial economist, and water engineer Qiuhua Liang, of Loughborough University, say the clear warning signs aren’t being heeded. “Unless lenders adopt climate-adjusted risk models that integrate physical hazards such as flooding, storms and heatwaves,” they explain, “they risk underestimating the true exposure of their mortgage portfolios.”
The consequences go beyond the individual tragedy of a flood-ravaged home, while at the same time extreme weather events are no longer exceptional: “Traditional financial crises follow cycles of growth, downturn and recovery, but climate risk moves in only one direction.”
Don’t have time to read about climate change as much as you’d like?
Suspected witches kneeling before James VI in Daemonologie, his 1597 treatise on witches. Wikimedia Commons
In the 16th century, witches and demons weren’t just for Halloween. People were terrified and preoccupied with them – even kings.
In 1590, James VI of Scotland – who was later also crowned James I of England – travelled by sea to Denmark to wed a Danish princess, Anne. On the return journey, the fleet was hit by a terrible storm and one of the ships was lost.
James, a pious Protestant who would go on to sponsor the translation of the King James bible, was convinced he’d been the target of witchcraft. On his return, he set in motion the brutal North Berwick witch trials.
A few years later, James decided to write a treatise called Daemonologie, setting out his views on the relationship between witches and their master, the devil.
Meanwhile, another firm Halloween favourite – ghosts – had fallen out of favour in the wake of the Protestant Reformation because they were seen as a hangover from Catholicism.
In this episode of The Conversation Weekly podcast, Penelope Geng, an associate professor of English at Macalester College in the US who teaches a class on demonology, takes us back to a time when beliefs around witches, ghosts and demons were closely tied to religious politics. She explains how these beliefs have come to influence the way witches and ghouls have been portrayed in popular culture ever since:
It seemed that at a very grassroots level, people believed in the existence of witches and devils. At a very high theological level, writers were talking about it. So I think, compared to today, the early modern period really was a moment in which people were somewhat obsessed with thinking about this eternal struggle between good and evil and their own place in this warfare.
You can also read an article Penelope Geng wrote on the difference between ghosts and demons, and the way they were portrayed in literature, as part of The Conversation’s Curious Kids series.
This episode of The Conversation Weekly was written and produced by Katie Flood, Mend Mariwany and Gemma Ware. Mixing by Eleanor Brezzi and theme music by Neeta Sarl.
Listen to The Conversation Weekly via any of the apps listed above, download it directly via our RSS feed or find out how else to listen here. A transcript of this episode is available on Apple Podcasts or Spotify.
Penelope Geng 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.
À l’Université de l’Alberta, par exemple, il n’y a plus de vice‑provost à l’équité, à la diversité et à l’inclusion. L’établissement dispose désormais d’un bureau de « l’accès, de la communauté et de l’appartenance ».
Si la langue évolue naturellement, ce changement ressemble davantage à un repli déguisé qu’à un véritable progrès, car il manque l’engagement délibéré nécessaire à l’équité.
Les efforts actuels de rebranding relèvent davantage de l’apaisement que du progrès. Ce sont des gestes réactifs, dictés par des pressions externes, plutôt que des réponses aux besoins et aux demandes des communautés les plus concernées.
Dans le monde des affaires, la tendance est frappante. Les mentions d’« EDI » dans les dépôts réglementaires des sociétés du S&P 500 ont chuté de 70 % depuis 2022, remplacées par des termes plus consensuels comme « appartenance » et « culture inclusive ».
Ce changement permet aux organisations d’échapper à leurs responsabilités, de masquer les inégalités et de remplacer les cadres d’équité mesurables par des platitudes vagues.
Pourquoi est-ce important ?
En adoucissant les termes utilisés, les organisations s’assurent un moyen socialement acceptable de se soustraire à la difficile mission qu’est l’équité. Comme si elles avaient « dépassé » l’équité, alors qu’elles n’ont jamais fait le travail nécessaire. C’est en quelque sorte une illusion.
Supprimer l’équité du langage organisationnel a des conséquences tangibles. Tout d’abord, cela compromet l’imputabilité. Les cadres d’équité efficaces créent des objectifs mesurables et vérifiables. Des termes tels que « appartenance » sont plus difficiles à définir et plus faciles à abandonner. Ils permettent aux organisations de prétendre s’engager en faveur de l’inclusion sans avoir à fournir les efforts nécessaires à un réel changement systémique.
Enfin, les organisations elles‑mêmes s’exposent à des risques. Les reculs en matière d’EDI nuisent au moral, à la rétention, à l’innovation et à la performance, et peuvent même accroître le risque juridique.
Un sondage de 2025 du Meltzer Center for Diversity, Inclusion, and Belonging (NYU) révèle que 80 % des dirigeants estiment que la réduction des efforts en équité augmente les risques réputationnels et juridiques. Il fait aussi état d’un large consensus selon lequel les initiatives d’EDI améliorent la performance financière des entreprises.
Mais la méritocratie suppose l’égalité des chances et occulte le fait que le « mérite » est une construction sociale qui dépend du contexte. Elle ignore que des barrières inégales – comme l’accès à l’éducation et aux réseaux – influencent la réussite individuelle, et ce outre les réalisations de la personne.
Par exemple, dans une étude réalisée auprès de 445 participants ayant une expérience en gestion, les chercheurs ont demandé aux participants de prendre des décisions concernant les primes, les promotions et les licenciements d’employés fictifs. Lorsque la culture d’une organisation mettait l’accent sur la méritocratie, les hommes recevaient des primes plus élevées que les femmes ayant les mêmes qualifications.
À l’inverse, lorsque la culture d’entreprise mettait plutôt l’accent sur le pouvoir discrétionnaire des dirigeants, le biais s’inversait en faveur des femmes. Cela s’explique vraisemblablement par le fait que l’énoncé signalait un biais de genre potentiel, déclenchant une sur‑correction.
Dans un troisième scénario, où ni la méritocratie ni la discrétion managériale n’étaient mises de l’avant, il n’y avait pas de différence significative dans les primes accordées.
Bien que le dernier scénario semble prometteur, la plupart des environnements de travail privilégient la méritocratie, consciemment ou non. La rémunération basée sur le mérite ou la performance demeure la norme dans la plupart des organisations, ce qui signifie que le premier scénario est le plus fréquent.
Sans transparence, le discours sur « qui mérite » une promotion/un bonus a tendance à renforcer les inégalités. Le népotisme, les avantages liés aux réseaux et la visibilité sélective comblent souvent le vide lorsque les cadres d’équité sont abandonnés. Les réseaux et la visibilité comptent, mais ils ne doivent pas être confondus avec le mérite.
Alors que certaines institutions reculent sur leurs engagements en matière d’EDI, d’autres au Canada et en Europe maintiennent le cap en intégrant l’équité à leur stratégie, à leur leadership et à leurs cadres de performance.
Pour faire progresser l’équité dans le contexte actuel, il faut à la fois une stratégie et une mobilisation continue. Voici par où les organisations peuvent commencer :
Établir et intégrer des objectifs explicites et mesurables en matière d’équité, alignés sur la stratégie de leur entreprise.
Améliorer la transparence des données en collectant et en partageant publiquement des informations désagrégées sur le recrutement, la promotion, l’équité salariale, le taux de rotation du personnel et l’expérience des employés.
Donner un véritable pouvoir décisionnel aux voix issues de la diversité dans l’élaboration des politiques et des initiatives. Les groupes‑ressources d’employés constituent un excellent point de départ.
Tenir les leaders imputables en les formant à promouvoir l’équité et en liant leurs incitatifs à des résultats concrets en matière de diversité, d’équité et d’inclusion.
Communiquez de manière transparente et authentique sur les impacts de l’EDI en partageant des témoignages et des indicateurs qui montrent comment les efforts en matière d’équité ont amélioré les performances de l’organisation.
Ces solutions fonctionnent déjà. Dans ma pratique de consultant, j’ai accompagné des organisations qui progressent en bâtissant la confiance, en dynamisant leurs équipes et en stimulant l’innovation. Au final, elles sont plus performantes et plus résilientes.
L’argument économique pour l’équité, la diversité et l’inclusion est bien établi : L’EDI stimule la performance, soutient la croissance et constitue un impératif de leadership. Dans le climat politique actuel, il est crucial de rester concentré sur les résultats plutôt que de se laisser entraîner par un discours qui présente l’équité comme inutile ou clivante.
La voie à suivre
Rebaptiser « l’équité » en « appartenance » ne fait pas avancer la justice, surtout en l’absence d’une définition partagée de ce que signifie réellement « appartenance ». Cela nie poliment la nécessité de démanteler de véritables barrières systémiques. Pour les personnes qui font face à ces barrières, cela sonne comme une promesse creuse.
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Personne ne choisit sa race, son sexe, son milieu socio-économique, son orientation sexuelle, ni de vivre avec un handicap ou les séquelles durables du service militaire (par exemple, un trouble de stress post-traumatique). En revanche, les institutions peuvent choisir de s’attaquer aux inégalités liées à ces expériences et de démanteler les obstacles auxquels les individus sont confrontés.
Ce moment invite également à une réflexion honnête au sein même du secteur de l’EDI. Certaines initiatives ont dépassé les limites ou perdu de vue leur objectif, ce qui a contribué au contrecoup actuel. Reconnaître ouvertement ces faux pas fait partie du travail de reconstruction de la crédibilité de l’EDI.
Pour progresser, il est nécessaire de réduire la polarisation, d’ouvrir le dialogue, et de mieux coordonner les actions afin que chaque personne ait une chance équitable de s’épanouir et de réussir.
Simon Blanchette 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.
Source: The Conversation – (in Spanish) – By Raúl Rivas González, Catedrático de Microbiología. Miembro de la Sociedad Española de Microbiología., Universidad de Salamanca
El elemento visual más icónico de la festividad de Halloween es, sin duda, la Jack O’Lantern, una calabaza vaciada y tallada con apariencia de rostro, a menudo de aspecto grotesco o sonriente, que sirve de linterna. En el interior hueco de la calabaza se coloca una fuente de luz, tradicionalmente una vela, cuyo parpadeo proyecta sombras fantasmales y da vida a la mueca tallada, creando una atmósfera inconfundible de misterio y celebración.
La especie de calabaza más utilizada para Halloween –contracción de la expresión inglesa All Hallows’ Eve, que significa “víspera de Todos los Santos”– es la Cucurbita pepo; por ejemplo, las variedades Connecticut field o Jack O’Lantern. Debido a su color, forma redondeada y corteza resistente, resulta ideal para tallar. Pero ojo, porque no siempre se utilizó una calabaza: al principio se tallaban otras hortalizas. Concretamente, nabos.
Jack, el Tacaño
La leyenda más famosa asociada con el origen de la tradición de las hortalizas talladas de Halloween nos lleva a la Irlanda del siglo XVIII y está vinculada a una figura del folclore irlandés conocida como Jack el Tacaño, aunque también recibe los nombres de Jack el Herrero, Jack el Borracho o Jack el Excéntrico.
Jack engañó al diablo dos veces. Primero le convenció para que se transformara en una moneda con la que pagar una última bebida antes de llevárselo al infierno, y después lo dejó atrapado en la copa de un árbol. Para conseguir la libertad, el diablo tuvo que prometer a Jack que jamás volvería a reclamar su alma.
Sin embargo, cuando Jack murió, no pudo entrar en el cielo debido a su vida pecaminosa. El diablo cumplió el trato y nuestro hombre quedó condenado a vagar por la Tierra en la oscuridad eterna, sin poder descansar ni en el cielo ni en el infierno. El maligno, a modo de burla, le arrojó una brasa encendida del averno para que iluminara su camino. Jack puso la brasa dentro de un nabo hueco, que usó a modo de linterna. Y así quedó convertido en Jack O’Lantern (Jack, el de la linterna).
Samhain, la festividad gaélica
La celebración de Halloween tiene raíces arcaicas vinculadas, en gran parte, al festival celta conocido como Samhain, que marcaba el final de la temporada de cosechas y el comienzo del año nuevo celta. En el siglo XVIII, mucha gente de Irlanda celebraba el Samhain, la festividad gaélica, con sus rituales de ir de casa en casa en busca de comida y bebida. De ahí la tradición del “truco o trato”.
Como en la Irlanda preindustrial reinaba la oscuridad, muchos tallaban nabos, patatas y otras hortalizas de raíz y les añadían carbón o velas para crear faroles improvisados que sirvieran de guía a los asistentes. En ocasiones, incluso tallaban rostros en ellas.
Además, existía la creencia antigua que, en la noche de Halloween, la frontera entre el mundo de los vivos y el de los muertos se debilitaba, permitiendo a los espíritus buenos y malos regresar. Por esta razón, esa noche las linternas vegetales eran colocadas en las ventanas o entradas de las casas para ahuyentar a esos espíritus, incluido el de Jack O’Lantern. Con el tiempo, los lugareños comenzaron a tallar caras terroríficas en los nabos para ahuyentar a los espíritus malignos.
Un microorganismo cambió los nabos y las patatas por calabazas
La Gran Hambruna irlandesa, también conocida como “hambruna de la patata”, fue un periodo devastador de inanición, enfermedad y migraciones masivas que afectó a Irlanda entre 1845 y 1849, aunque las consecuencias se extendieron hasta 1852.
Aunque se desconocen las cifras exactas, los registros apuntan que al menos se produjeron 1 100 000 de muertes y una emigración masiva de otro millón de personas, lo que supuso un descenso poblacional de casi el 30 %. En realidad, el funesto desenlace del acontecimiento fue multifactorial: confluyeron motivos políticos, religiosos, económicos y, sobre todo, microbiológicos. En concreto, una plaga provocada por el oomiceto Phytophthora infestans, conocido como tizón tardío, destruyó la cosecha de patatas, el alimento básico para gran parte de la población irlandesa pobre. El patógeno es muy agresivo, y los vegetales y cultivos más importantes a los que afecta son la patata y el tomate.
Para desgracia de los irlandeses, el oomiceto se estableció en el suelo. Los siguientes años fueron demoledores, ya que el patógeno persistía y las patatas desaparecían o malograban. Por entonces, no existían sustancias químicas ni métodos genéticos para combatir a Phytophthora. La hambruna y las enfermedades asociadas se cebaron con los más pobres. La desnutrición facilitó la incidencia de infecciones severas como la fiebre tifoidea, la tuberculosis, la difteria o el cólera. Cientos de miles de personas no pudieron superar la debacle y perecieron.
Los irlandeses llevaron Halloween a Estados Unidos
Los más afortunados consiguieron emigrar en busca de nuevas oportunidades, aunque muchos lo hicieron en condiciones deplorables y sucumbieron durante la travesía. La colonia de emigrantes irlandeses más numerosa se estableció en Estados Unidos, un país de mayoría protestante. Sin embargo, más del 90 % de los migrantes irlandeses eran católicos, lo que supuso un impacto notable en la sociedad estadounidense.
De hecho, con los emigrantes irlandeses muchas tradiciones cruzaron el Atlántico. Cuando llegó el momento de celebrar Halloween, hubo un problema de gran magnitud: en América los nabos no eran fáciles de encontrar. Por suerte, los irlandeses inmigrantes encontraron una hortaliza nativa, mucho más grande, llamativa, abundante en otoño y fácil de vaciar y tallar: la calabaza. De inmediato, ésta sustituyó a los nabos y a cualquier otra hortaliza candidata.
Las calabazas talladas con rostros espeluznantes no tardaron en volverse esenciales en las celebraciones de Halloween. Aunque inicialmente servían para ahuyentar el espíritu de Jack y otras almas errantes, con el tiempo, la Jack O’Lantern evolucionó a un simple símbolo festivo. Hoy adorna las casas, mezclando terror y diversión durante todo el mes de octubre.
Calabazas divertidas, pero también peligrosas
Pero ojo, porque las calabazas pueden esconder un peligro. Un estudio publicado en el año 2006, analizó la rápida descomposición fúngica de las calabazas de Halloween (Cucurbita pepo) en Irlanda del Norte durante octubre de 2005. Encontraron que, tras ser talladas y exhibidas, desarrollaban un notorio deterioro microbiano. La investigación reveló la presencia de al menos cinco géneros de hongos (Penicillium, Gibberella, Mucor, Nectria y Fusarium), tres de ellos conocidos por causar infecciones en personas inmunocomprometidas, un riesgo que no había sido documentado previamente.
Por lo tanto, aunque estas hortalizas pueden seguir siendo parte de las festividades, en entornos sanitarios con pacientes vulnerables se recomienda la inspección periódica de las calabazas talladas para procurar minimizar la dispersión de esporas y realizar su descarte inmediato si se observa contaminación fúngica.
Raúl Rivas González no recibe salario, ni ejerce labores de consultoría, ni posee acciones, ni recibe financiación de ninguna compañía u organización que pueda obtener beneficio de este artículo, y ha declarado carecer de vínculos relevantes más allá del cargo académico citado.
Source: The Conversation – in French – By François Langot, Professeur d’économie, Directeur adjoint de l’i-MIP (PSE-CEPREMAP), Le Mans Université
Pour stabiliser la dette publique de la France, l’État doit réduire son déficit. Outre la hausse des prélèvements, il doit aussi de diminuer ses dépenses. Mais avant de les réduire, il importe de savoir comment ces dépenses ont évolué ces trente dernières années.
L’analyse historique des dépenses de l’État peut être utile pour prendre aujourd’hui des décisions budgétaires. Qu’ont-elles financé ? Les salaires des agents ? Des achats de biens et services ? Des transferts ? Quels types de biens publics ont-elles permis de produire (éducation, santé, défense…) ?
Le futur budget de l’État doit tenir compte de ces évolutions passées, des éventuels déséquilibres en résultant, tout en réalisant que ces choix budgétaires auront des impacts sur la croissance et les inégalités spécifiques à la dépense considérée.
Près de 30 milliards d’économies annoncées
Le projet de loi de finances actuellement discuté pour l’année 2026 prévoit 30 milliards d’euros d’économies, ce qui représente 1,03 % du PIB. Ces économies sont obtenues avec 16,7 milliards d’euros de réduction de dépenses (0,57 point de PIB), et 13,3 milliards d’euros de hausse de la fiscalité. Le déficit public, prévu à 5,6 % en 2025 (163,5 milliards d’euros pour 2025) ne serait donc réduit que de 18,35 %. Pour atteindre l’objectif de stabiliser la dette publique, il faudra amplifier cet effort les prochaines années pour économiser approximativement 120 milliards d’euros (4 points de PIB), soit quatre fois les économies prévues dans le PLF 2026.
Ces réductions à venir des dépenses s’inscrivent dans un contexte. En moyenne, dans les années 1990, les dépenses publiques représentaient 54 % du PIB. Dans les années 2020, elles avaient augmenté de 3 points, représentant alors 57 % du PIB, soit une dépense annuelle additionnelle de 87,6 milliards d’euros, ce qui représente plus de cinq fois les économies inscrites dans le PLF pour 2026. Depuis 2017, ces dépenses ont augmenté d’un point de PIB, soit une hausse annuelle de 29,2 milliards d’euros (1,75 fois plus que les économies du PLF 2026). Étant données ces fortes hausses passées, des réductions de dépenses sont possibles sans remettre en cause le modèle social français. Mais, quelles dépenses réduire ?
Chaque poste de dépense se compose d’achats de biens et services (B & S) utilisés par l’État (au sens large, c’est-à-dire l’ensemble des administrations publiques centrales, locales et de sécurité sociale) pour produire, de salaires versés aux agents, et de transferts versés à la population. Quel poste a fortement crû depuis 1995 ?
Le tableau 1 montre qu’en 1995, 40,2 % des dépenses étaient des transferts (soit 22,05 points de PIB), 35,5 % des achats de B & S (soit 19,45 points de PIB) et 24,3 % des salaires (soit 13,33 points de PIB). En 2023, 44,1 % étaient des transferts (+ 3,06 points de PIB), 34,5 % des achats de B & S (- 0,15 point de PIB) et 21,4 % des salaires (- 1,07 points de PIB). Le budget s’est donc fortement réorienté vers les transferts. Les dépenses consacrées aux salaires ont évolué moins vite que le PIB, le poids de ces rémunérations dans les dépenses baissant fortement.
Lecture : En 1995, les transferts représentaient 22,05 points de PIB, soient 40,2 % des dépenses totales. Le chiffre entre parenthèses indique la part de cette dépense dans les dépenses totales. Δ : différence entre 2023 et 1995 en points de PIB et le chiffre entre parenthèses l’évolution de la part.
L’État a donc contenu ces achats de B & S et réduit sa masse salariale, quand bien même les effectifs croissaient de plus de 20 % (données FIPECO). Simultanément, l’emploi salarié et non salarié du secteur privé augmentait de 27 % (données Insee). Des effectifs augmentant moins que dans le privé et une part de la production de l’État dans le PIB progressant révèlent une plus forte hausse de la productivité du travail du secteur public. Mais, ceci ne s’est pas traduit par une augmentation des rémunérations du public. Au contraire, l’écart de salaire entre le public et le privé s’est fortement réduit sur la période, passant de +11,71 % en 1996 en faveur du public (données Insee (1999) pour le public et Insee (1997) pour le privé), à 5,5 % en 2023 (données Insee (2024a) pour le privé et Insee (2024b) pour le public).
Cette première décomposition montre que l’organisation de la production de l’État (achat de B & S et salaires) n’a pas dérivé, mais que les hausses des dépenses de redistribution (+ 3,06 points de PIB en trente ans) ont fortement crû. Ces hausses de transferts correspondent aux trois quarts des économies nécessaires à la stabilisation de la dette publique.
De moins en moins d’argent pour les élèves et la défense
Les dépenses de l’État se décomposent en différents services, c’est-à-dire, en différentes fonctions (l’éducation, la défense, la protection sociale…). La figure 1 montre que les dépenses des services généraux, d’éducation et de la défense ont crû moins vite que le PIB depuis 1995 (surface rouge). En effet, leurs budgets en points de PIB ont respectivement baissé de 2,14 points, 0,78 point et 0,68 point de PIB. Si la baisse du premier poste peut s’expliquer, en partie, par la rationalisation liée au recours aux technologies de l’information, et la seconde par l’arrêt de la conscription, celle de l’éducation est plus surprenante.
Elle l’est d’autant plus que Aubert et al. (2025) ont montré que 15 % de ce budget incluait (soit 0,75 point de PIB) des dépenses de retraites qu’il « faudrait » donc réallouer vers les pensions pour davantage de transparence. La croissance constante de cette contribution aux pensions dans le budget de l’éducation indique que les dépenses consacrées aux élèves sont en forte baisse, ce qui peut être mis en lien avec la dégradation des résultats des élèves de France aux tests de type Pisa. Enfin, dans le contexte géopolitique actuel, la baisse du budget de la Défense peut aussi sembler « peu stratégique ».
Lecture : En 1995, les dépenses de protection sociale représentaient 21,41 points de PIB, dont 18,14 points de PIB en transferts, 1,16 point en salaires et 2,11 points en B&S ; en 2023, elles représentaient 23,33 points de PIB dont 20,16 points, 1,12 point en salaire et 2,0 points en B&S.
De plus en plus pour la santé et la protection sociale
La surface verte de la figure 1 regroupe les fonctions qui ont vu leurs budgets croître plus vite que le PIB, de la plus faible hausse (ordre public/sécurité, avec + 0,24 point de PIB) aux plus élevées (santé, + 1,72 point de PIB, et protection sociale, + 1,92 point de PIB). Ces deux postes de dépenses représentent 65,3 % des hausses. Viennent ensuite les budgets sport/culture/culte, environnement et logement qui se partagent à égalité 24 % de la hausse totale des dépenses (donc approximativement 8 % chacun). Enfin, les budgets des affaires économiques et de l’ordre public/sécurité expliquent les 10,7 % restant de hausse des dépenses, à hauteur de 6,4 % pour le premier et 4,3 % pour le second.
Si l’on se focalise sur les plus fortes hausses, c’est-à-dire, la santé et la protection sociale, les raisons les expliquant sont différentes. Pour la protection sociale, les dépenses de fonctionnement sont quasiment stables (B&S et salaires) alors que les prestations sont en forte hausses (+ 2 points de PIB). Les dépenses de santé voient aussi les prestations offertes croître (+ 1 point de PIB), mais se caractérisent par des coûts croissants de fonctionnement : + 0,6 point pour les B&S, et + 0,12 point de PIB pour les salaires des personnels de santé, alors que les rémunérations baissent dans le public, ceux des agents de l’éducation, par exemple, passant de 4,28 à 3,47 points de PIB (-0,81 points de PIB).
Dans la protection sociale, de plus en plus pour la maladie et les retraites
La protection sociale, premier poste de dépense (23,33 % du PIB), regroupe différentes sous-fonctions représentées dans la figure 2. À l’exception des sous-fonctions maladie/invalidité (+ 0,07 point de PIB), exclusion sociale (+ 0,43 point du PIB) et pensions (+ 2,41 points de PIB), les budgets de toutes les sous-fonctions de la protection sociale ont vu leur part baisser (surface en rouge). Les réformes des retraites ont donc été insuffisantes pour éviter que les pensions soient la dépense en plus forte hausse.
Enfin, si on ajoute aux dépenses de santé la partie des dépenses de protection sociale liée à la maladie et à l’invalidité (voir la figure 2), alors ces dépenses globales de santé ont crû de 1,79 point de PIB entre 1995 et 2023.
Quels enseignements tirer ?
Ces évolutions suggèrent que les budgets à venir pourraient cibler les économies sur les dépenses de santé et les pensions, ces deux postes ayant déjà fortement crû dans le passé. Évidemment, une partie de ces hausses est liée à l’inévitable vieillissement de la population. Mais une autre vient de l’augmentation des prestations versées à chaque bénéficiaire. Par exemple, la pension de retraite moyenne est passée de 50 % du salaire moyen dans les années 1990 à 52,3 % en 2023. Le coût de la prise en charge d’un infarctus du myocarde est passé de 4,5 Smic dans les années 1990 à 5,6 Smic dans les années 2020
France 24, octobre 2025.
En revanche, un rattrapage portant sur l’éducation et la Défense semble nécessaire au vu du sous-investissement passé et des défis à venir. Les rémunérations des agents du public doivent aussi être reconsidérées. Le tableau 2 montre que le PLF 2026 propose des mesures répondant en partie a ce rééquilibrage en réduisant les dépenses de protection sociale et en particulier les pensions. Enfin, le PLF 2026 prévoit une hausse du budget de la défense, alors que la réduction de 8,6 milliards d’euros des budgets des fonctions hors défense et ordre public épargne l’éducation.
Au-delà de ces arguments de rééquilibrage, les choix budgétaires doivent aussi reposer sur une évaluation d’impact sur l’activité (croissance et emploi). Les analyses de Langot et al. (2024) indiquent que les baisses de transferts indexés sur les gains passés (comme les retraites) peuvent avoir un effet positif sur la croissance, facilitant alors la stabilisation de la dette publique, au contraire des hausses des prélèvements.
Privilégier la production des biens publics aux dépens des transferts se justifie aussi au regard des enjeux géopolitiques et climatiques, et permet également de réduire les inégalités (voir André et al. (2023)).
Les auteurs ne travaillent pas, ne conseillent pas, ne possèdent pas de parts, ne reçoivent pas de fonds d’une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n’ont déclaré aucune autre affiliation que leur organisme de recherche.
