How might the Strait of Hormuz be reopened? Here are 3 scenarios

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Donald Rothwell, Professor of International Law, Australian National University

Giuseppe Cacace/AFP/Getty

The Strait of Hormuz crisis has reached a critical juncture. President Donald Trump has demanded Iran reopen the strait or the United States will further intensify its military assault.

While the strait has not been totally closed to shipping, it has been substantially disrupted and transits have effectively slowed to a trickle. The strait is economically and strategically unique due to the access it provides to the Persian Gulf from which there is no exit point. All shipping passes in and out a single waterway.

The key navigational choke point borders Iran to the north and Oman to the south. It’s only 29 nautical miles wide (53 kilometres) and consists of two-mile-wide (just over three kilometres) navigable channels for inbound and outbound shipping as well as a two-mile-wide buffer zone. This is all in Iranian waters.

In 2025 a total of 20 million barrels per day of crude oil and oil products were estimated to have been shipped through the strait. That’s 25% of the world’s seaborne oil trade to multiple markets in Europe, Asia, and Australia.

So what does the future look like for the Strait of Hormuz, and how might it be reopened? There are three legal, geopolitical and military scenarios.




Read more:
Why hasn’t the US military used force to secure the Strait of Hormuz?


1. There’s a ceasefire

A ceasefire could arise from an Iranian capitulation to Trump’s demands to reopen the strait, even on a temporary basis until a permanent ceasefire is reached.

This scenario would leave the strait predominantly in Iranian hands and while hostilities may have ended, there is every prospect that Iran may seek to impose ongoing tolls on any foreign shipping passing through.

Reports have emerged that tolls have been imposed on some ships to escape the strait in recent weeks. These could be viewed as a temporary wartime measure that Iran knew it could extract from desperate shipping companies.

The imposition of tolls on ships passing through an international strait such as Hormuz is prohibited under international law during peacetime, but Iran may give little weight to that constraint following weeks of American and Israeli bombardment.

There is every possibility that under whatever scenario emerges for the strait’s future, Iran will seek to keep in place an ongoing toll regime. The international shipping industry, who would initially bear the burden of paying any such tolls, would most likely reluctantly do so to keep their ships moving.

The cost of any such tolls would then have to be factored into the market resulting in inevitable price rises for all exports from the Gulf region.

This is the most likely scenario given the current diplomatic and military efforts to achieve an end to the conflict, but would depend on Iranian concessions over the future of its nuclear ambitions.

2. The US puts boots on the ground

The second possible scenario is that the US pivots from an air and missile campaign against Iran to a land-based operation involving American boots on the ground.

With a significant build-up of 5,000 additional US troops throughout the Gulf, making an estimated total of 50,000 scattered throughout the region, the US is clearly poised for such an assault.

There has been much speculation as to whether the US would first seize Kharg Island, which handles roughly 90% of Iran’s crude oil exports. The island could provide a launch pad for US ground and sea operations throughout the Gulf.

However, Kharg Island is not located in the Strait of Hormuz and does not offer an immediate military advantage to reopening the waterway. Any US reopening of the strait would eventually require significant naval assets to be deployed to initially secure the strait from all hostile threats, including mines, and then to be able to escort commercial shipping through the strait in both directions.

Recent comments from President Trump suggest he is not inclined to do this alone without the support of US allies. That support has not been forthcoming and in some instances has been directly rejected.

While capable of escalating its current campaign, even Trump may not want to gamble on the military and political risks it would entail. At present, it would appear unlikely the US would pursue this course of action.

3. End the war, but leave the strait closed

The third scenario is the US ends the war but safe passage through the strait is not secured.

There is clearly growing momentum for a coalition of like-minded countries to act to resolve this issue. On March 11 the United Nations Security Council adopted Resolution 2817 directly addressing safety and security of navigation in the Gulf and through the Strait of Hormuz.

A fresh resolution could be adopted authorising UN member states to take collective action to secure the strait. This would provide a clear legal basis for the strait to be cleared and for freedom of navigation to resume under escort from a UN-mandated naval coalition capable of defending itself from Iranian attacks.

The United Kingdom on April 2 coordinated discussions among partners and allies to explore options for how this could be achieved. Australia was part of those discussions.

The UK, Australia and other European and Asian powers such as China who may contribute to such a UN-mandated Hormuz mission will not wish to do so during a hot armed conflict. They will feel more comfortable acting once the US has withdrawn and hostilities between the main protagonists have ended.

This becomes the fall-back option if the current Iran/US impasse over the strait remains and Trump declares victory and withdraws US forces.

What is clear is that the pre-war status quo will not return in the Strait of Hormuz. If hostilities end and an ongoing peace settlement is reached, Iran will still have the capacity to control the strait. This is a reality of geography that the world will need to live with.

The Conversation

Donald Rothwell receives funding from Australian Research Council

ref. How might the Strait of Hormuz be reopened? Here are 3 scenarios – https://theconversation.com/how-might-the-strait-of-hormuz-be-reopened-here-are-3-scenarios-279840

‘Vegan leather’ isn’t as sustainable or eco‑friendly as brands might claim

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Caroline Swee Lin Tan, Associate Professor in Fashion Entrepreneurship, RMIT University

Alfonso Ramirez/Unsplash

In a high-end fashion store or luxury car showroom, the term “vegan leather” sends a strong message of quality. For many shoppers, it promises the look and feel of real leather without using animal skins. As brands move away from animal leather, “vegan” has come to suggest something that is both kinder to animals and better for the planet.

However, the reality is more complicated. While these materials remove animal products, they often replace one environmental problem with another. Vegan leather is not one material, but a broad label that covers everything from plastic coatings to plant-based surfaces, which is why regulators are starting to question vague green claims.

The appeal of leather alternatives is easy to understand. Concerns about animal welfare, climate change and deforestation have pushed shoppers and brands towards options that seem more responsible.

As a result, “vegan leather” is often seen as the better choice – even though how long it lasts, and where it ends up, is rarely questioned.

The rise of synthetic hide

For decades, these materials were known as “pleather” or vinyl. Today, better finishes have turned thin plastic films into convincing leather lookalikes.

Most vegan leathers consist of polyurethane (PU) or polyvinyl chloride (PVC) coatings bonded to fabric backings. They are waterproof and easy to emboss, but they are also petroleum-derived plastics.

When the surface of a PU‑coated bag cracks or peels, the damage is more than cosmetic. As the coating breaks down, it sheds microplastics into the environment.

The peeling that happens with fake polyurethane leather is a source of microplastic pollution.
Author supplied

The plastic underneath the plants

In response to concerns about plastic, new fake leather materials have been developed from pineapples, mushrooms, apples, grapes and even cacti. These bio-based options are often sold as the sustainable answer.

However, using a plant does not automatically make a product better for the environment.

The issue lies in how these materials are made. A “pineapple leather” shoe may be praised for its plant fibres, but those fibres are usually held together with plastic resins to make the material durable.

The result is a mixed material that cannot be recycled in Australia, even though marketing often focuses on the plant ingredient and hides the plastic underneath.

Plant leather doesn’t last long

A key challenge with many vegan leather alternatives is strength. Raw plant fibres are too weak to handle the repeated wear and pressure faced by shoes, bags and car seats. To improve performance, manufacturers layer plant materials onto plastic binders or polyester backings.

Even then, many of these materials break down sooner than real leather and cannot be properly repaired. Traditional leather can be conditioned, patched and allowed to age over time, but plant-based alternatives tend to fail once the surface coating cracks or peels.

A mushroom- or apple-based bag also cannot be composted because of the plastic beneath its surface, meaning it reaches disposal much sooner. Some plant-based vegan leather products have reported lifespans of as little as two years.

This points to a broader issue. In a circular economy that prioritises reuse, repair and material recovery, sustainability is about keeping products in use and at their highest value for as long as possible.

Brands must walk the talk

The problems hidden by elusive marketing labels are becoming harder to ignore. The Australian Competition and Consumer Commission (ACCC) has made it clear broad labels such as “sustainable” or “eco-friendly” must be backed up with evidence.

If brands use the word “vegan” to suggest lower environmental impact, they must be able to prove that claim by looking at the product’s full life cycle.

At the same time, the Productivity Commission’s 2026 inquiry into the circular economy highlights Australia’s growing problem with products that cannot be recycled. As product stewardship schemes expand, durability, recyclability and what happens to a product at the end of its life will matter as much as animal welfare.

The ethical distinction

None of this means animal leather comes without environmental or chemical costs. These include methane emissions from livestock and the toxic chemicals used in tanning. For many consumers, avoiding animal-derived materials is still an important ethical choice.

However, “vegan” and “sustainable” are not the same thing. One describes what has been left out of a product, while the other describes how that product performs over its entire life. Treating the two as interchangeable can replace meaningful progress with reassuring labels.

The takeaway is a call for material honesty. Sustainability can’t be reduced to a single word or ingredient. It’s measured by how long a product stays useful before it needs to be thrown away. A bag that avoids animal materials but breaks down within a few years simply creates waste sooner.

If vegan alternatives are going to be sustainable, they must be designed to last. Sustainability is measured in years of use, not words on a tag.

The Conversation

Saniyat Islam is affiliated with The Textile Institute.

Caroline Swee Lin Tan 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. ‘Vegan leather’ isn’t as sustainable or eco‑friendly as brands might claim – https://theconversation.com/vegan-leather-isnt-as-sustainable-or-eco-friendly-as-brands-might-claim-278548

What is ‘muscle memory’ and can I improve mine?

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Celia Harris, Associate Professor in Cognitive Science, Western Sydney University

skynesher/Getty

Whether it’s riding a bike or knitting a sweater, there are some tasks you do without thinking.

These are commonly associated with “muscle memory”, the idea your body can remember how to perform complex tasks and, over time, learn to do them automatically.

But do your muscles actually have a memory? And what role does your brain play?

Let’s unpack the science.

What is ‘muscle memory’?

In popular culture, we usually associate “muscle memory” with tasks we do, or skills we learn, without much conscious thought. This could include riding a bike, playing a musical instrument or even tying your shoelaces.

However, cognitive scientists call this type of memory “procedural memory” rather than “muscle memory”. And while it doesn’t always feel like it, procedural memory involves our brain as well as our muscles.

The term “muscle memory” may also be used in a more literal sense to describe how muscles seem to get stronger or bigger if they have been trained before. Research supports this idea, suggesting prior training can speed up muscle growth. It may do this by changing how muscle cells function or are structured. However, scientists still don’t know exactly how this all works. In any case, it seems these changes do not allow muscles to “store” memories or information in the same way as the brain.

How does procedural memory work?

Scientists describe procedural memory as a kind of “non-declarative memory”, meaning it’s memory based on actions, rather than words. This means it can be difficult to share skills you might’ve learnt through procedural memory.

For example, imagine you’re teaching a child to ride a bike. If you hop on the bike yourself, it’s easy to perform all the correct steps (holding the handlebars, mounting the bike, pushing the pedals) at the right times. But it’s much harder to describe that process to another person, especially if you only use words.

Research suggests repetition is the best and fastest way to improve your procedural memory. When we learn a new skill, it initially takes a lot of effort. This is because you need to actively control every action to make sure you’re doing things in the right way and order.

Over time, these skills can become so automatic you barely think while doing them. For example, you might drive home without remembering which route you took. That’s because you’re performing a series of actions you’ve done hundreds of times before.

Maintaining your procedural memory requires multiple parts of your brain to work together. This is because we use different neural processes as we shift from actively learning a skill to acting more automatically.

When you learn something new, you’re largely using the pre-frontal and fronto-parietal regions of the brain. These are associated with attention, memory and deliberate, effortful thinking.

When you start repeating and practising a skill, you instead rely on sensorimotor circuits. These process the sensory information you receive from the outside world, and help your brain determine the best physical response. In this way, these circuits allow you to do complex tasks with less conscious effort.

What’s the impact of conditions such as dementia?

What’s fascinating about procedural memory is it’s largely unaffected by cognitive decline.

For people with dementia or other kinds of cognitive impairment, the hardest tasks are generally those that require conscious effort. However, they often retain more automatic skills that they’ve developed over a lifetime. This is why you may meet people with dementia who can still knit or dance a tango, despite having trouble remembering their loved ones’ names.

Research suggests music taps into procedural memory in an especially powerful way. One Canadian study found people with Alzheimer’s dementia, an irreversible brain condition which affects memory, cognition and behaviour, recognised words better when they were sung as opposed to spoken.

Procedural memory may also help people with cognitive conditions learn new skills, as well as retain old ones. In one Australian study, researchers wanted to know if a person with severe Alzheimer’s dementia could learn a new song. They found that a 91-year-old woman with severe Alzheimer’s, who’d never been a musician, was able to learn a brand-new song. While she couldn’t remember the words during a memory test, she could sing the song again two weeks later.

Can I improve my procedural memory?

Unfortunately, there’s no quick and easy way to strengthen your procedural memory.

To begin, you have to push through the initial phase of learning a new skill, which often requires significant effort and attention. This is where practice comes in. Practising a new skill will help your brain depend less on its attention-focused frontal regions, and rely more on those responsible for motor functions.

To make your practice as effective as possible, it may be worth spacing it out over multiple sessions. This forces you to deliberately bring a memory back to mind and actively reconstruct it, even after you’ve stopped thinking about it. As a result, you’ll become better at forming and retaining long-term memories. Sleeping after each practice session may also help. Research suggests this is because sleep helps you remember and retain new skills.

While improving procedural memory takes time and effort, it’s well worth it. Any new skills you learn will enrich your life. And even if your cognitive health declines, the skills you practice over a lifetime can keep you connected to the people and memories you value.

The Conversation

Celia Harris receives funding from the Australian Research Council and the Longitude Prize on Dementia. She is also a founder, director, and shareholder in Memory Aid Pty Ltd.

Justin Christensen 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. What is ‘muscle memory’ and can I improve mine? – https://theconversation.com/what-is-muscle-memory-and-can-i-improve-mine-277471

Despairing at the state of the world? The ancient Greeks and Romans knew the feeling

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Konstantine Panegyres, Lecturer in Classics and Ancient History, The University of Western Australia

Heraclitus — Johannes Moreelse (c.1630) Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

If you’re feeling fed up with the way things are in the world, then, no matter your politics, you are experiencing an emotion people have felt for millennia.

Perhaps you feel helpless. Maybe you feel like the character in the Roman dramatist Terence’s play The Brothers (160 BCE), who exclaims:

we’re enclosed by so many things from which there’s no escape: violence, poverty, injustice, loneliness, disgrace. What an age we live in!

What can you do? As we will see, ancient people had different ideas about how to act.

One popular option was to retreat – or try to retreat – from the world, renouncing involvement and avoiding society. A less common option was to try to sort things out in the world by yourself, as one person facing all its woes.

Heraclitus’ escape

Heraclitus of Ephesus (c.540-480 BCE) is one of the most prominent Greek philosophers known for becoming disillusioned with worldly affairs.

Heraclitus – Abraham Janssens (c.1601).
Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

His main gripe was with politics. He disliked the insolence and stupidity of politicians and the laws they created. He was also tired of the foolishness of the people, who didn’t defend their laws and constitutions: “the people,” he said, “must fight for the law as for city-walls”.

When his friend Hermodorus was banished from Ephesus, Heraclitus condemned the city for elevating foolish men and destroying good men. As the historian Diogenes Laertius informs us, Heraclitus told the leaders of Ephesus that they were so worthless they should kill themselves:

The Ephesians would do well to end their lives, every grown man of them, and leave the city to beardless boys, for that they have driven out Hermodorus, the worthiest man among them, saying, “We will have none who is worthiest among us; or if there be any such, let him go elsewhere and consort with others.”

When the people of Ephesus asked why an intelligent man like Heraclitus ignored politics and preferred instead to play games of knuckle-bones with children, he apparently said civil life was no longer worth an intelligent man’s time:

Are you astonished? Is it not better to do this than to take part in your civil life?

Eventually, Heraclitus couldn’t bear it any more. As Diogenes Laertius continues the story, Heraclitus “became a hater of his kind”. He took to wandering in the mountains, living on grass and herbs, but “when this gave him dropsy, he made his way back to the city and put this riddle to the physicians, whether they were competent to create a drought after heavy rain”. He then tried to cure himself by repairing to a cowshed and burying himself in manure.

Living his life in the mountains away from society, Heraclitus’ health quickly deteriorated. He died soon after at the age of 60.

Sertorius’ dream of escape

Quintus Sertorius (123-72 BCE) was a Roman statesman who distinguished himself by his rhetorical skill and his military victories as a commander against tribes in Gaul.

During the political unrest in Rome in the 90s BCE, Sertorius was sent to command the empire’s Spanish provinces. While there, he became an enemy of the ruling faction at Rome and effectively established his own independent rule of Spain for eight years.

Sertorius and his deer – Juan León Pallière (1849).
Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Sertorius’ enemies at Rome sent armies to Spain to defeat him, but were unsuccessful in dislodging him. Sertorius set up his own senate of 300 members. This included a mix of Romans and members of Spanish tribes. He consolidated his popularity by appealing to local superstitions – he went everywhere accompanied by a white fawn, a symbol of divine power.

After years of threats and toil, Sertorius became sick of it all. According to the Greek historian Plutarch (c.46-119 CE), Sertorius met some sailors “who had recently come back from the Atlantic Islands”. The sailors spoke of a land off the coast of Africa with a warm climate and plentiful food and water. Most importantly, it was far away from all the political and military turmoil.

Plutarch tells us that the words of the sailors made an impression:

When Sertorius heard this tale, he was seized with an amazing desire to dwell in the islands and live in quiet, freed from tyranny and wars that would never end.

Nobody today knows for sure what islands these sailors were referring to. Some possibilities are Madeira, Porto Santo or the Canary Islands.

Unfortunately for Sertorius, he never found his “escape”. He endured many more years of political and social strife, until he was murdered by conspirators in 72 BCE.

Can happiness come from disengagement?

Many people living in ancient Greece and Rome appear to have recognised that happiness can come from removing oneself from worldly affairs. The Greek philosopher Epicurus (c.341-270 BCE) advised people to seek obscurity and avoid the world. His famous saying is two words: “live unknown”.

Some disagreed, of course. Plutarch, for example, thought Epicurus’ idea was a mark of defeat and a waste of the potential of living:

he who casts himself into the unknown state and wraps himself in darkness and buries his life in an empty tomb would appear to be aggrieved at his very birth and to renounce the effort of being.

Others, however, seemed to favour the idea that disappearing into a a quiet and hidden life, ignorant of the world’s affairs, could bring happiness. The Roman poet Horace (65-8 BCE), for example, wrote:

Happy the man who, far from business concerns, works his ancestral acres with his oxen like the men of old, free from every kind of debt; he is not wakened, like a soldier, by the harsh bray of the bugle, and has no fear of the angry sea; he avoids both the city centre and the lofty doorways of powerful citizens.

For Horace, someone who is happy is far from cities and armies, living simply on his ancestral farm with animals and loved ones – with no debt.

Taking matters into your own hands

Some, of course, don’t want to retreat from things. They want to solve problems and make the world around them better. But how can you do this if you’re just an ordinary person?

The Athenian playwright Aristophanes (450-388 BCE) had a comical, tongue-in-cheek solution. In his play Acharnians, first performed in 425 BCE, he depicts a man called Dicaeopolis who is fed up with politics.

Dicaeopolis is not only tired of politicians lying and starting endless wars; he is also tired of people voting selfishly for handouts and for harmful policies. The people, he says, “can be bought and sold”.

So Dicaeopolis comes up with a personal solution. He will “make a treaty with the Spartans for me alone and my children and the missus” so his family can live in peace.

His efforts are a triumph. He successfully negotiates the treaty and lives freely, enjoying privileges other citizens cannot, like farming, trading with other states and drinking.

The play is not meant to be taken seriously – it is a comedy, after all, and no private individual would really be able to negotiate a treaty with another city. But its plot reveals something about the political frustration ordinary citizens can often feel.

So what can you do if you are fed up with politics?

Two thousand years later, the options haven’t improved much. The ancient advice is clear: you can withdraw, endure, or laugh. Preferably the last option. It seems to have the best survival rate.

The Conversation

Konstantine Panegyres 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. Despairing at the state of the world? The ancient Greeks and Romans knew the feeling – https://theconversation.com/despairing-at-the-state-of-the-world-the-ancient-greeks-and-romans-knew-the-feeling-279566

All The President’s Men at 50: one of the finest films about investigative journalism ever made

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Alexander Howard, Senior Lecturer, Discipline of English and Writing, University of Sydney

Nighttime. A dim and dingy car park. Woefully inadequate fluorescent lights flicker and buzz overhead. Two men stand in half-shadow. One is barely visible, his face almost entirely swallowed by darkness. His voice is low and gravelly:

The list is longer than anyone can imagine. It involves the entire US intelligence community. FBI, CIA, Justice. It’s incredible. The cover-up had little to do with Watergate. It was mainly to protect the covert operations. It leads everywhere. Get out your notebook. There’s more.

The other man is lost for words. He just stands there, mouth slightly open and eyes wide, trying to make sense of what he’s hearing. The exchange ends with a warning: his life, along with that of his colleague, in is grave and immediate danger.

This is a pivotal moment in Alan J. Pakula’s All the President’s Men, which has just turned 50. The film was based on the 1974 book by journalists Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, who investigated the Watergate scandal for the Washington Post.

The man doing the talking in the scene I’ve been describing is Mark Felt (Hal Holbrook), then associate director of the FBI, better known as “Deep Throat”. His interlocutor, temporarily stunned into silence, is Woodward (Robert Redford).

A masterpiece of political cinema, All The President’s Men remains one of the finest films about investigative journalism ever made.

Steeped in a fog of paranoia and distrust – an atmosphere shaped in no small part by cinematographer Gordon Willis’ matchless treatment of light and shade – it is as relevant now as it was on first release.

Uncovering the Watergate scandal

“At its simplest,” journalist Garrett M. Graff writes about the scandal,

Watergate is the story of two separate criminal conspiracies: the Nixon world’s ‘dirty tricks’ that led to the burglary on June 17 1972, and the subsequent wider cover-up. The first conspiracy was deliberate, a sloppy and shambolic but nonetheless developed plan to subvert the 1972 election; the second was reactive, almost instinctive – it seems to have happened simply because no one said no.

What started out as an ostensibly ordinary break-in at the Democratic National Committee headquarters in Washington, DC during the US presidential election cycle soon revealed a broader pattern of political espionage, illegal surveillance, campaign sabotage and the systematic misuse of state power. Much of it targeted perceived political enemies.

As the indefatigable Woodward and Bernstein pursued the story, it became clear the burglary was part of a much larger operation – one that reached all the way into the heart of the White House.

Their probing would ultimately lead to the disgrace and resignation of Richard Nixon, who faced near-certain impeachment.

Figuring out the puzzle

Redford was the driving force behind All the President’s Men.

He became interested in the Watergate story while working on The Candidate, a 1972 satire about the backstage machinations underpinning an idealistic Senate campaign that, in an instance of uncanny timing, overlapped with the unfolding scandal.

Redford followed Woodward and Bernstein’s investigation as it panned out in real time. In 1972, he reached out to Woodward directly, hoping to better understand both the facts of the case and the methods of the reporting.

Convinced that the story demanded a restrained, quasi-documentary approach, Redford initially envisioned a black-and-white film shot in a pared-back style, with an emphasis on process rather than star power.

Warner Bros, with whom he had a production deal, thought otherwise. Having already agreed to finance the film, the studio insisted that Redford take a leading role – and marketed the as yet-unmade project as “the most devastating detective story” of the century.

There were early discussions about casting Al Pacino as Bernstein, fresh from the success of The Godfather (1972), but the part ultimately went to Dustin Hoffman. Pakula then signed on to direct, bringing with him a conceptual and tonal sensibility ideally suited to the material.

A quandary remained: how do you build suspense out of a story who outcome is already common knowledge? Film scholars Robert B. Ray and Christian Keathley suggest the filmmaking team’s response to that challenge is “the key” which unlocks the movie.

At one point, during his first meeting with Deep Throat, Woordward admits:

The story is dry. All we’ve got are pieces. We can’t seem to figure out what the puzzle is supposed to look like.

We share the confusion of the reporters as they struggle to get to the bottom of things. What might, in the wrong hands, have been a disastrous mistake turned out to be a masterstroke.

The result is an endlessly watchable and quotable (“Follow the money”) film that generates narrative and dramatic tension through the sheer difficultly of knowing anything at all.

In age beset by disinformation, brazen political deceit, strategic obfuscation and collapsing trust in public institutions, that lesson feels less historically distant than it does disturbingly prescient.

The Conversation

Alexander Howard 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. All The President’s Men at 50: one of the finest films about investigative journalism ever made – https://theconversation.com/all-the-presidents-men-at-50-one-of-the-finest-films-about-investigative-journalism-ever-made-279451

Treating previously untreatable cancers: How CAR-T cell therapy could be made accessible to more patients

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Nolan Maugourd, PhD Candidate in Chemical Engineering, Université Laval

CAR-T therapies harvest the patient’s own cells, modify them outside the body for treatment and then reinject them into the patient. (Pexels/Karola G)

Cancers that were once considered incurable now have new treatment options. Among these innovations are CAR-T (chimeric antigen receptor T cell) therapies that modify a patient’s T cells, which play an important role in immune systems.

The T cells are modified to induce the expression of a receptor that is capable of recognizing and attacking cancer cells. These therapies have provided therapeutic responses in previously untreatable forms of leukemias and lymphomas.

However, they’re associated with significant accessibility challenges in Canada due to their high cost and complexity. To address these issues, Canadian academic researchers and public institutions are developing non-commercial CAR-T therapies that promise to improve accessibility by reducing costs while keeping comparable clinical outcomes.

As a PhD candidate at Université Laval in collaboration with the National Research Council, my research focus is cell engineering to produce lentiviral vectors needed in CAR-T therapies. I’m interested in making CAR T-cell therapy more broadly available.

CAR-T cell therapy process

These personalized treatments are called ex vivo autologous therapies. They use the patient’s own cells, which are harvested from blood, modified outside the body and then re-injected into the patient.

To perform CAR-T cell therapy, T lymphocytes are collected from patient’s blood and then exposed to viruses carrying the CAR gene, which insert it into the cells. The modified cells expressing the specific receptors are expanded and reintroduced into the patient’s body, allowing them to recognize and kill cancer cells.
National Cancer Institute, CC BY

The process follows several key steps. First, apheresis is performed to filter the patient’s blood and collect only T lymphocytes. Once isolated, the T lymphocytes are exposed to a modified virus carrying the CAR gene, programming them to express the CAR receptor and target cancer cells. Once modified, cells are cultured until sufficient quantities are produced. After expansion in culture, the T lymphocytes are reinfused into the patient’s body, creating a personalized therapy.

Various types of CARs can be expressed on the surface of T lymphocytes to target different types of cancer cells. For example, antiCD-19 CARs and antiCD-22 CARs are used to treat leukemia and lymphoma while anti-BCMA CARs are used for myeloma.

A complex and costly centralized model

Currently, six CAR-T therapies are available in Canada. These treatments are made by pharmaceutical companies at few sites where all the stages of production occur for several regions or countries. In this centralized model, cells collected from patients are sent to these companies, modified there and then distributed to the point-of-care location for reinjection into the patient.

This process takes four to six weeks between cell collection and reinfusion. This delay can be critical depending on the patient’s condition, and often necessitates a temporary therapy, called bridging therapy, to stabilize the progression of the disease. This prolonged turnaround time is attributed to the multiple preparation steps and the logistical complexity of centralized manufacturing.

These treatments cost between $440,000 and $630,000, which represents a high cost for public institutions and a big impact on provincial budgets. This pricing limits patient access to these treatments depending on the province of residence. For example, Kimriah an antiCD-19 CAR therapy is only reimbursed in Alberta, Ontario and Québec.

Furthermore, these therapies are only offered in large hospitals due to the expertise and infrastructure required. These geographic barriers prevent patients in remote areas from receiving the same care, resulting in unequal treatment for the same disease.

Non-commercial academic production

Academic therapies are those developed by public institutions such as research institutes, universities and hospitals. In Canada, three academically developed CAR-T therapies are currently undergoing clinical trials targeting forms of lymphoma and leukemia.

Two of these trials target the CD19 antigen (ACIT001/EXC002 and CLIC-1901), while one targets CD22 antigen (CLIC-2201). Because these therapies are in the clinical trials phase, they aren’t yet commercially available, but data is being collected.

The CLIC-1901 therapeutic treatment is unique in that it involves collaboration among different Canadian stakeholders: viral vector components are manufactured in Vancouver at BC Cancer, viral vectors are then produced in Ottawa at the Ottawa Hospital Research Institute and the patient’s cells are engineered into CAR-T cells back in Vancouver at BC Cancer. Finally, treatment re-injections are performed at the same clinical sites, either Vancouver General Hospital or The Ottawa Hospital, where they were originally collected.

The ACIT001/EXC002 treatment relies on two production sites in Alberta to supply four centres spread across the province.

Ultimately, the CLIC clinical trials aim to validate the efficacy of a CAR-T cell treatment made in Canada, paving the way for broader access to other sites and provinces across the country.

Benefits for the health system

These academic therapies present several advantages for the Canadian health-care system. Unlike centralized commercial therapies, this approach benefits from in-house production, avoiding the shipment of patient cells to distant manufacturing facilities and reducing turnaround time between collection and reinfusion.

The median vein-to-vein time is only 15 days for CLIC1901 and ACIT001/EXC002. This rapid production notably eliminates the need for bridging therapy.

Although the cost of CLIC-1901 has not yet been determined, researchers expect it to be significantly lower than commercial alternatives currently available. For ACIT001/EXC002, the announced cost is less than $100,000. By comparison, academic production of CAR-T therapy at Hospital Clínic in Barcelona, Spain has reduced costs to approximately €89,000 (equivalent of $145,000). For CLIC-2201, no cost estimate is currently available

These academic CAR-T therapies align with the accessibility principles outlined in Section 3 of the Canada Health Act, guaranteeing all Canadians access to health services, without financial or other barriers. With these three clinical trials, patients from three provinces already benefit from this treatments. The goal for the CLIC therapies is also to extend the distribution to six provinces: British Columbia, Ontario, Manitoba, Saskatchewan, New Brunswick and Alberta.

This decentralized model helps reduce access inequalities both geographically, through the presence of these treatments across more provinces, and economically through their reduced cost.

Finally, these academic therapies demonstrate promising efficacy. Until now, CLIC-1901 shows clinical results that are equivalent, or even superior, to certain commercial treatments. Preliminary results suggest that CLIC-1901 may have a lower toxicity rate than commercial products. However, conclusions are limited by the sample size on this point.

For ACIT001/EXC002, the results for safety and efficacy are comparable to those currently available on the market, while results for CLIC-2201 are still awaited.

The success of these various clinical phases paves the way for advanced stages and the widespread development of academic CAR-T therapies in Canada.

The Conversation

Nolan Maugourd works for National Research Council Canada.

ref. Treating previously untreatable cancers: How CAR-T cell therapy could be made accessible to more patients – https://theconversation.com/treating-previously-untreatable-cancers-how-car-t-cell-therapy-could-be-made-accessible-to-more-patients-270937

Donald Trump’s profane threats against Iran expose the unhinged language of war

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Henry Giroux, Chaired professor for Scholarship in the Public Interest in the Department of English and Cultural Studies, McMaster University

The language of war has long wrapped itself in the rhetoric of courage and the honour of vengeance, drawing on moral and religious appeals to make violence appear necessary, even just.

Today, that language has returned. As war stretches across Gaza and Lebanon, Ukraine and Iran, the words used to justify it are as brutal, self-assured and distant as ever from the suffering they conceal.

A glaring example are the social media posts of United States President Donald Trump, who has in recent days threatened to bomb Iran “back to the Stone Ages” and called Iranians “crazy bastards” in a demand that they open the Strait of Hormuz.

The ongoing and cascading conflict with Iran, in fact, has been portrayed by Israel and the U.S. as an existential struggle between good and evil.

This is not the messaging of strategy or international law — it’s the renewed language of the Crusades, driven by ideological fervour and staged as a performance of power in which, in Trump’s world view, “might makes right.”

Biblical references

The tone is even more pronounced within segments of Trump’s political orbit, where the conflict is interpreted through apocalyptic and biblical narratives.

References to divine purpose and destiny, including Trump’s claim that he was “saved by God,” draw on a broader evangelical language that frames political conflict in theological terms.

In this environment, war is no longer a tragic necessity but a sacred obligation. This reflects a dangerous fusion of militarism, religious fundamentalism, spectacle and authoritarian politics that is redefining how military power is justified, experienced and normalized.

Religious fundamentalism doesn’t just accompany this violence; it sanctifies it. It functions as an alibi for power, cloaking destruction in the language of destiny while rendering its victims invisible. It turns domination into virtue and makes the machinery of death appear necessary, even divinely ordained.

War as sacred

This isn’t unintentional. It signals a shift in which war becomes a sacred imperative. Trump’s inner circle and his supporters often invoke scripture and religious imagery to cast violence as part of a divine plan. Some of them, like Sen. Lindsey Graham, have described the ongoing war in Iran as a civilizational or even religious war.

Pete Hegeseth, Trump’s defense secretary, expresses this world view most chillingly. He has declared that the mission of the U.S. military is “to unleash death and destruction from the sky all day long,” and has called for “maximum lethality, not tepid legality” as its guiding principle.

This reveals a policy of stripping war of restraint or law and openly aiming for annihilation. Hegseth has also invoked Crusader imagery and claimed that Trump has been ordained by God to wield military power. In his 2020 book American Crusade, Hegseth writes that those who value western civilization, freedom and equal justice should “thank a crusader.”

Domestic militarism

The same language that sanctifies violence abroad, like in Gaza and Ukraine, is similar to Trump’s calls for aggression at home — against protesters, immigrants and political enemies.

He has targeted political opponents, including James Comey and Letitia James, revoked visas for international students protesting Israel’s war in Gaza, and dismissed critics, including his Democratic opponent in the 2024 presidential election, Kamala Harris, as “radical left lunatics.”

Retribution and regarding opponents as mortal enemies are treated as justified, even necessary, blurring the lines between war-making and domestic repression.

In this environment, it’s easy for the lines between politics and theology to dissolve as well, weakening ethical restraint and defining conflict as sanctioned, even righteous, violence.

Beyond simply justifying war, the U.S. is once again framing itself as a white Christian nation, which normalizes exclusion, disposability, historical erasure and racialized violence.

Nonetheless, this fusion of faith and force is not universally accepted. As Pope Leo XIV said in his first Palm Sunday address, God is the “king of peace,” rejecting any claim that war can be divinely sanctioned.

War as entertainment

The religious framing of the war in Iran is converging with another shift: the transformation of war into spectacle.

Under Trump, violence is not only being justified; it’s being staged, estheticized and consumed, as White House promotional videos blend action-movie imagery with real footage of Iran bombings. This renders the war a stylized performance designed to excite, entertain and showcase technological power.

In this spectacle, human suffering recedes. Targets become co-ordinates, destruction appears cinematic and violence is stripped of its moral weight. What remains is the seductive image of power — war emptied of judgment.

When these efforts fuse with religious fundamentalism, the consequences can be profound. The theatrics of destruction become a sacred drama and the capacity to kill is defined as evidence of both national strength and divine purpose.

Under such conditions, war is no longer constrained by law, reason or democratic accountability. It is propelled by belief, emotion and spectacle.

Trump provides the script as his rhetoric intensifies this convergence. His suggestion that war might end when he “feels it in his bones” or his remark about bombing Iran “just for fun” shows how ignorance can become governance.

Making fascism possible

The human costs of the war in Iran are devastating. Bombing campaigns have inflicted widespread destruction across the country, with civilian casualties mounting steadily. Yet this death toll is increasingly obscured by the spectacle of war itself, reduced to background noise beneath the American celebration of military power.

The economic costs of the war to Americans are also staggering, estimated at roughly $1 billion per day, resources that could support social needs. Yet in a culture steeped in militarism, concentrated power and inequality, such considerations recede.

History offers stark warnings about such moments. The horrors of the past — from the Holocaust to the Vietnam War, the Rwandan genocide, the Pinochet dictatorship and the Iraq war — reveal how societies can be mobilized through propaganda, fear and the erosion of critical thought.




Read more:
War sent America off the rails 19 years ago. Could another one bring it back?


They remind us what happens when violence is normalized, power is unchecked and human life is stripped of its value. Those conditions are visible again. But authoritarianism can only endure in a culture that enables it — where war, both at home and abroad, becomes a permanent feature of social life.

What’s at stake is not only the violence unleashed abroad but the political culture it legitimizes at home. When war is staged as entertainment and justified as a moral duty, its human costs disappear from view.

A society that embraces cruelty as virtue, ignorance as governance and violence as destiny risks losing its capacity for judgment. Under such conditions, democracy does not simply erode. It is obliterated, giving way to forces that make fascism possible.

The Conversation

Henry Giroux 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. Donald Trump’s profane threats against Iran expose the unhinged language of war – https://theconversation.com/donald-trumps-profane-threats-against-iran-expose-the-unhinged-language-of-war-279801

Donald Trump’s profane threats against Iran display the unhinged language of war

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Henry Giroux, Chaired professor for Scholarship in the Public Interest in the Department of English and Cultural Studies, McMaster University

The language of war has long wrapped itself in the rhetoric of courage and the honour of vengeance, drawing on moral and religious appeals to make violence appear necessary, even just.

Today, that language has returned. As war stretches across Gaza and Lebanon, Ukraine and Iran, the words used to justify it are as brutal, self-assured and distant as ever from the suffering they conceal.

A glaring example are the social media posts of United States President Donald Trump, who has in recent days threatened to bomb Iran “back to the Stone Ages” and called Iranians “crazy bastards” in a demand that they open the Strait of Hormuz.

The ongoing and cascading conflict with Iran, in fact, has been portrayed by Israel and the U.S. as an existential struggle between good and evil.

This is not the messaging of strategy or international law — it’s the renewed language of the Crusades, driven by ideological fervour and staged as a performance of power in which, in Trump’s world view, “might makes right.”

Biblical references

The tone is even more pronounced within segments of Trump’s political orbit, where the conflict is interpreted through apocalyptic and biblical narratives.

References to divine purpose and destiny, including Trump’s claim that he was “saved by God,” draw on a broader evangelical language that frames political conflict in theological terms.

In this environment, war is no longer a tragic necessity but a sacred obligation. This reflects a dangerous fusion of militarism, religious fundamentalism, spectacle and authoritarian politics that is redefining how military power is justified, experienced and normalized.

Religious fundamentalism doesn’t just accompany this violence; it sanctifies it. It functions as an alibi for power, cloaking destruction in the language of destiny while rendering its victims invisible. It turns domination into virtue and makes the machinery of death appear necessary, even divinely ordained.

War as sacred

This isn’t unintentional. It signals a shift in which war becomes a sacred imperative. Trump’s inner circle and his supporters often invoke scripture and religious imagery to cast violence as part of a divine plan. Some of them, like Sen. Lindsey Graham, have described the ongoing war in Iran as a civilizational or even religious war.

Pete Hegeseth, Trump’s defense secretary, expresses this world view most chillingly. He has declared that the mission of the U.S. military is “to unleash death and destruction from the sky all day long,” and has called for “maximum lethality, not tepid legality” as its guiding principle.

This reveals a policy of stripping war of restraint or law and openly aiming for annihilation. Hegseth has also invoked Crusader imagery and claimed that Trump has been ordained by God to wield military power. In his 2020 book American Crusade, Hegseth writes that those who value western civilization, freedom and equal justice should “thank a crusader.”

Domestic militarism

The same language that sanctifies violence abroad, like in Gaza and Ukraine, is similar to Trump’s calls for aggression at home — against protesters, immigrants and political enemies.

He has targeted political opponents, including James Comey and Letitia James, revoked visas for international students protesting Israel’s war in Gaza, and dismissed critics, including his Democratic opponent in the 2024 presidential election, Kamala Harris, as “radical left lunatics.”

Retribution and regarding opponents as mortal enemies are treated as justified, even necessary, blurring the lines between war-making and domestic repression.

In this environment, it’s easy for the lines between politics and theology to dissolve as well, weakening ethical restraint and defining conflict as sanctioned, even righteous, violence.

Beyond simply justifying war, the U.S. is once again framing itself as a white Christian nation, which normalizes exclusion, disposability, historical erasure and racialized violence.

Nonetheless, this fusion of faith and force is not universally accepted. As Pope Leo XIV said in his first Palm Sunday address, God is the “king of peace,” rejecting any claim that war can be divinely sanctioned.

War as entertainment

The religious framing of the war in Iran is converging with another shift: the transformation of war into spectacle.

Under Trump, violence is not only being justified; it’s being staged, estheticized and consumed, as White House promotional videos blend action-movie imagery with real footage of Iran bombings. This renders the war a stylized performance designed to excite, entertain and showcase technological power.

In this spectacle, human suffering recedes. Targets become co-ordinates, destruction appears cinematic and violence is stripped of its moral weight. What remains is the seductive image of power — war emptied of judgment.

When these efforts fuse with religious fundamentalism, the consequences can be profound. The theatrics of destruction become a sacred drama and the capacity to kill is defined as evidence of both national strength and divine purpose.

Under such conditions, war is no longer constrained by law, reason or democratic accountability. It is propelled by belief, emotion and spectacle.

Trump provides the script as his rhetoric intensifies this convergence. His suggestion that war might end when he “feels it in his bones” or his remark about bombing Iran “just for fun” shows how ignorance can become governance.

Making fascism possible

The human costs of the war in Iran are devastating. Bombing campaigns have inflicted widespread destruction across the country, with civilian casualties mounting steadily. Yet this death toll is increasingly obscured by the spectacle of war itself, reduced to background noise beneath the American celebration of military power.

The economic costs of the war to Americans are also staggering, estimated at roughly $1 billion per day, resources that could support social needs. Yet in a culture steeped in militarism, concentrated power and inequality, such considerations recede.

History offers stark warnings about such moments. The horrors of the past — from the Holocaust to the Vietnam War, the Rwandan genocide, the Pinochet dictatorship and the Iraq war — reveal how societies can be mobilized through propaganda, fear and the erosion of critical thought.




Read more:
War sent America off the rails 19 years ago. Could another one bring it back?


They remind us what happens when violence is normalized, power is unchecked and human life is stripped of its value. Those conditions are visible again. But authoritarianism can only endure in a culture that enables it — where war, both at home and abroad, becomes a permanent feature of social life.

What’s at stake is not only the violence unleashed abroad but the political culture it legitimizes at home. When war is staged as entertainment and justified as a moral duty, its human costs disappear from view.

A society that embraces cruelty as virtue, ignorance as governance and violence as destiny risks losing its capacity for judgment. Under such conditions, democracy does not simply erode. It is obliterated, giving way to forces that make fascism possible.

The Conversation

Henry Giroux 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. Donald Trump’s profane threats against Iran display the unhinged language of war – https://theconversation.com/donald-trumps-profane-threats-against-iran-display-the-unhinged-language-of-war-279801

AI pragmatists: How language teachers are navigating AI with nuance

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Martine Rhéaume, Coordinator of Technological Innovation and Artificial Intelligence in Language Education, L’Université d’Ottawa/University of Ottawa

A pervasive narrative has taken hold in education: generative AI (genAI) is an unstoppable force, and educators must adapt or be left behind.

Technology companies market AI tools as the ultimate classroom assistants, while popular media warns that essay writing is dead.

Teachers have long been labelled or framed by technology enthusiasts and policymakers as “resistant” and “risk averse.” Discourse about technology in classrooms has amplified notions that teachers either embrace or reject tech.

Yet research with educators is showing that a binary framing of AI innovators versus Luddites obscures what is actually happening in classrooms.

To better understand this, I turned to my own institution, the University of Ottawa’s Official Languages and Bilingualism Institute (OLBI). I consulted English as a second language (ESL) and French as a second language (FSL) instructors to examine their attitudes toward, and current use of, AI-assisted tools. I did this through conducting a bottom-up institutional survey.

Twenty-four of 60 eligible staff members responded, yielding a 40 per cent response rate. In the context of institutional research, this is a robust turnout that provides a representative cross-section of our department.

Because my goal was to understand the nuances of educators’ decision-making, this qualitative sample offers deep insights into front-line teaching realities. The findings point to a thoughtful majority of instructors navigating complex pedagogical terrain with considerable nuance.

The myth of the resistant teacher

As educational historian Larry Cuban has argued, teachers are not inherently resistant to technology; they’re resistant to tools that don’t solve their problems. Data from my study supports this distinction.

Research in acquiring a second language suggests experienced language educators, keen to see their students progress, seek normalization of novel technologies — the stage at which a tool becomes invisible and learning takes centre stage.

My survey confirms this orientation. When asked to identify their stance on AI integration, the majority of OLBI staff did not select “skeptic.”

The majority of respondents are best characterized as “pragmatists” — educators who recognize the potential of genAI tools but are withholding full adoption pending credible pedagogical evidence.

A significant minority, however, expressed substantive and philosophically grounded concerns. One FSL instructor described genAI as “une menace à l’autonomie de la pensée” (“a threat to the autonomy of thought”).

This is a considered defence of the critical thinking capacities that higher education exists to cultivate.




Read more:
The ‘slow professor’ could bring back creativity to our universities


The ‘hidden AI’ problem

My survey also suggests a striking inconsistency in how educators conceive of AI. Several respondents reported that they “never” use generative AI. Yet, in subsequent questions, they acknowledged regular use of tools such as Grammarly for writing assistance or DeepL for translation.

Grammarly introduced generative AI to its earlier AI technology integrating machine learning and natural language processing, and the genAI feature can be turned off. DeepL has also developed a genAI model.

However, the bigger point is instructors appeared to distinguish between AI they perceived as assisting existing work and AI they perceived as generating new text. That distinction reflects different understandings of authorship, agency and acceptable use.

What the data reveals, then, is an intuitive taxonomy: instructors are broadly comfortable with tools that refine or correct their existing work (assistive AI) and considerably more cautious about tools that produce content on their behalf.

Such a distinction is reflected in my own process with this article. As a francophone writing in English, I used Anthropic’s Claude to clarify sentence-level phrasing in a draft I had already written.

A differentiation between refining existing work and producing content reflects broader discussions taken up elsewhere related to learning and academic integrity.




Read more:
ChatGPT is in classrooms. How should educators now assess student learning?


The efficiency shield

The most significant finding from the survey concerns how instructors are deploying genAI primarily as an administrative efficiency tool, using it to generate lesson plans, draft course communications and create short texts for classroom use. Such tasks consume significant time but don’t directly mediate student learning.

One ESL instructor shared their enthusiasm about this:

“The possibilities for lesson planning and activity ideas are endless.”

Yet the same instructors who embraced AI for their own productivity expressed marked reluctance to introduce these tools into student learning.

The reasoning is grounded in cognitive science. Language acquisition depends on what psychologists Robert Bjork and Elizabeth Bjork term desirable difficulties — the effortful cognitive processing that consolidates new linguistic knowledge into long-term memory.

When a student offloads a grammatical decision to an auto-complete function, or delegates argument construction to a language model, they bypass the neural engagement that makes learning durable. This phenomenon, known as cognitive offloading, may produce a polished written product while leaving the underlying competency undeveloped.

One respondent articulated this concern:

“If [students] get away with that, then they will never learn how to write.”

Such positions align with UNESCO’s 2023 guidance on generative AI in education and research, which cautions that the pace of genAI adoption in educational settings must not outstrip our collective understanding of its cognitive and ethical implications.

Our instructors are, in effect, applying an instinctive precautionary principle — one that is well-supported by the empirical research.




Read more:
What are the key purposes of human writing? How we name AI-generated text confuses things


Policy must follow pedagogy

The OLBI consultation illustrates why meaningful AI education policy cannot be imposed from above. If universities issue broad mandates to embrace innovation without consulting those who understand the cognitive architecture of learning, they risk producing policies that are administratively tidy but practically incoherent.

Conversely, blanket prohibitions ignore the reality that students will graduate into a labour market saturated with AI tools, and must develop the critical literacy to engage with them responsibly.

The path illuminated by our “pragmatist” majority is one of critical AI literacy. Concretely, this involves three institutional commitments:

Distinguishing between functions of AI: Institutions must teach students to distinguish between AI tools according to their function rather than their underlying technology. This means considering tools that operate in an assistive capacity — correcting, refining or translating work that the student has already produced — and a generative capacity by producing content on the user’s behalf.

This said, both categories of “assistive” and “generative” AI warrant scrutiny. It’s relevant to note that some educational or accessibility rights bodies are discussing using generative AI as an assistive technology, particularly for people with disabilities.

Protecting the learning process: Assessment design should value the process of writing and argumentation — drafting, revision, reflection — rather than privileging only the final product, which a language model can readily simulate.

Repositioning the instructor: As the OECD has noted, the educator’s role is shifting from knowledge transmitter to critical evaluator and learning architect. AI tools can support this transition — but only if instructors retain the agency to define the terms of engagement.

The question facing universities is whether institutions will trust the educators who understand their students’ cognitive needs to draw the lines that matter.

The Conversation

Martine Rhéaume 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. AI pragmatists: How language teachers are navigating AI with nuance – https://theconversation.com/ai-pragmatists-how-language-teachers-are-navigating-ai-with-nuance-279041

How does spider venom damage human cells? Researchers uncover the killer mechanism of recluse spider toxin

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Matthew Cordes, Associate Professor of Chemistry and Biochemistry, University of Arizona

While rarely aggressive, the brown recluse is known for the damage its venom can inflict on people. Lisa Zins/Flickr, CC BY-SA

Spiders are among Earth’s most resourceful predators, nabbing prey by any means necessary. Orb weavers spin webs for capture. Wolf spiders ambush on the ground at night. Almost all spiders use venom when they hunt.

But each spider’s venom is a cocktail of ingredients as varied as their hunting behavior. Some venom ingredients can harm people, while others do not. As a result, only a few spiders threaten human health, while most are harmless and even beneficial for pest control.

In the United States, spiders that are dangerous to people include the brown recluse, which carries a necrotic toxin that destroys tissue, and the black widow, which has a special neurotoxin that damages nerve cells.

But how do these toxins work? My laboratory, in collaboration with my colleague Greta Binford, has been studying venom toxins for over two decades. In newly published research led by my former student Alexandra Sundman, we captured the structure of the recluse toxin made by the six-eyed sand spider, a relative of the brown recluse that is found in Chile. Our findings provide new clues for developing new treatments for spider bites.

Close-up of spider burrowed into sand, abdomen mostly covered with eight long legs mostly visible
Six-eyed sand spiders camouflage themselves by burrowing in sand.
Ansie Dippenaar-Schoeman/crabspider via iNaturalist, CC BY-SA

Mowing down the cell’s surface

The toxin in recluse venom is an enzyme, which is a protein that makes certain chemical reactions go faster.

The recluse toxin binds to the surface of cells and scoots along it like a lawn mower, clipping the heads off molecules on this surface. While working in my lab, my former student Dan Lajoie discovered that the toxin transforms these surface molecules into unusual ring structures. When the immune system attacks these damaged and fragile cells, it can lead to widespread tissue death called necrosis.

For reasons researchers still don’t understand, these toxins cause necrosis in humans but seem to primarily affect the nerve cells of insect prey. Both effects probably result from damaged or rearranged cell membranes.

To better understand how spider venom damages cells, my team and I crystallized and took X-rays of a toxin from a Chilean six-eyed sand spider as it binds to target molecules found in cell membranes. We were amazed to behold a structure that reveals how the toxin binds to cell surfaces. Clearly visible in the mouth of the enzyme were the cell surface molecules, positioned in a way that showed how the enzyme cuts the head off and turns it into a ring.

Illustration of a mass of grey spirals and ribbons perched on a yellow surface resembling mesh
Recluse toxin (gray), specifically phospholipase D toxin, binds to cell membranes (yellow).
Matthew Cordes/ChimeraX, CC BY-SA

When we compared the structure of the toxin when it’s bound to its target molecules to its structure when it is not, we saw changes that suggest it gets activated when it binds to cell surfaces. That is, it begins to damage cells once it attaches to their surface.

Uncovering the recluse

True to their name, recluses tend to reside in dark, covered places such as woodpiles, closets and pillowcases, and they may accidentally come into contact with people. They are not aggressive, but they do bite when threatened. The most common symptom is a serious skin wound that may require grafts, but the toxin may also damage red blood cells and cause life-threatening kidney failure.

Recluse spider lesions can be misdiagnosed due to their similarity to sores from bacteria such as methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus. There are no approved treatments in the U.S., though antivenoms are available in South America.

Our hope is that this work can guide scientists in developing new ways to treat spider bites and block the effect of their toxins, by either interfering with their ability to bind to the surface of cells or to chemically alter them.

The Conversation

Matthew Cordes has received funding from the National Science Foundation and the Bio5 Institute.

ref. How does spider venom damage human cells? Researchers uncover the killer mechanism of recluse spider toxin – https://theconversation.com/how-does-spider-venom-damage-human-cells-researchers-uncover-the-killer-mechanism-of-recluse-spider-toxin-279903