Category: English

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Rebecca Wood, Senior Lecturer in Inclusive Education, University of Glasgow

As a researcher in autism and education and a former secondary school teacher, it took me a while to realise that autistic school staff were rarely included in conversations about inclusion and diversity in schools.

With colleagues, I started the Autistic School Staff Project in 2019, focusing on the experiences, needs and aptitudes of autistic teachers and other education staff.

Our findings show that autistic school staff can experience significant sensory issues in school. These can be from bright, flickering lights, odours from the canteen, and crowding in corridors or during meetings. The greatest impact of all comes from noise: shouting from children and staff during break times, the clang of the school bell and the roar of traffic when windows are open in the summer.

Interestingly, it’s not only a question of volume levels. Whispering from children and humming from technology can also be highly distracting and contribute to feelings of fatigue and overload.

Autistic teachers also told us that the ways neurotypical colleagues communicated and interacted with them could be disorientating and exclusionary. Staff meetings that seemed to lack focus, chit-chats in the school corridor, gossip and school politics could be experienced as confusing and irrelevant.

At the same time, autistic teachers felt their own communication style of being direct and to the point could be misunderstood as rudeness. Similarly, staff social events were often not enjoyed by autistic teachers, even though neurotypical colleagues seemed to really rate them. Changes announced at the last minute by the school leadership team, with instructions that did not seem to make sense, could be highly stressful for autistic teachers. Covering for absent teachers was also found to be very unsettling.

Most tellingly, a number of participants felt they could not be open about being autistic. A key reason for this concerned negative and stigmatising attitudes towards autism that they had to face in school. The teachers also said that autistic children could be poorly treated. Autistic teachers sometimes had to sit through autism training, conducted on the assumption that no-one present was autistic, where the same negative attitudes were evident.

As a result, autistic school staff could be extremely wary about sharing with anyone that they were autistic. They worried that this information would have a negative impact on their careers. Suppressing an autistic identity, known as masking, has been linked with mental health issues.

While some of our participants had been able to disclose being autistic in school, and had even had a good experience of this, others said that it had made life even harder. This was because attitudes would change towards them in a negative way, or they might not even be believed.

Passion and support

Fortunately, a number of positives also came out of our study. Monotropism – a key autistic trait that denotes a tendency to have very intense interests – can mean that autistic teachers develop strong subject expertise and teach with passion. Even the job itself links with monotropic tendencies, as autistic teachers told us that they loved their work and were highly motivated by it. In addition, autistic teachers felt that they were very thorough and organised.

Above all, autistic teachers felt they were making a significant contribution to supporting inclusion in school. They were sensitive to the needs of neurodivergent children and others at risk of marginalisation, and were willing to try alternative approaches with children who were struggling. One teacher said:

I never gave up on a child because I think probably too many people gave up on me. I could see myself in a lot of the children.

In addition, some of those who had been open about being autistic were valued by colleagues because of their insights in relation to neurodiversity. Autistic teachers also felt that they could be a role model for autistic children and their parents.

Autistic teachers are a valuable part of the school workforce and are already making an important contribution to inclusion. However, it’s important to remove the barriers they can face across their careers.

This includes providing more flexibility and support for autistic student teachers. Making recruitment practices inclusive and accessible – such as by providing questions in advance, and offering in-person and remote options for interviews – would also benefit autistic teachers, as would developing neurodiversity-inclusive school communities.

Participants were clear that autism training should be run by autistic people, and that withdrawing to a quiet space should not be misinterpreted by colleagues as being anti-social. Addressing the sensory impacts of schools would benefit both children and staff. Providing staff with agency in decision-making can be empowering. We also need to reconsider the conventional role of the teacher, and question if the current format of standard duties, such as parents’ evenings and covering for absent colleagues, should be re-evaluated through a neurodiversity-inclusive lens.

Rebecca Wood has received funding from the ESRC and the John and Lorna Wing Foundation.

– ref. Learning from autistic teachers could change schools for the better – https://theconversation.com/learning-from-autistic-teachers-could-change-schools-for-the-better-279257

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Clive Dyer, Visiting Professor, Surrey Space Centre, University of Surrey

Every mission to deep space is fraught with danger. A hardware failure during launch, an equipment malfunction far from Earth, or a small space rock hitting the vehicle are all scenarios astronauts will train for.

As humans set off for the Moon for the first time in more than 50 years, one persistent threat they face is from solar radiation.

Intense bursts of radiation from the Sun, known as solar particle events, can endanger the lives of space travellers, particularly those venturing beyond low Earth orbit (LEO). During these events, high speed, charged particles stream out from the Sun and into space.

Exposure to these particles could lead to radiation sickness or, in the worst cases, prove fatal. On space stations and other crewed vehicles travelling in LEO, astronauts are afforded a high degree of protection by the magnetic bubble surrounding Earth (the magnetosphere).

But in interplanetary space, where Artemis II is headed, humans are much more exposed to outpourings of solar radiation.

The Sun’s magnetic activity fluctuates on a cycle lasting roughly 11 years. During this cycle, sunspots (areas of reduced temperature caused by intense magnetic fields) can cause eruptions known as flares, as well as solar particle events. These rise and fall in frequency with the solar cycle.

The current solar cycle reached its maximum, when the Sun is generally at its most active, in 2024 and is now in a slowly declining phase leading to the minimum, when the Sun is quietest. The current cycle should reach the minimum in 2031.

Not all solar cycles are the same and the current one has been rather undistinguished in terms of activity, as was the previous cycle that reached maximum in 2014. Recently, however, the Sun woke from its slumber.

On November 11 2025, a large solar particle event increased ground level radiation by about 145% for two hours, as measured by the University of Surrey’s neutron monitor at the Met Office station at Lerwick, Shetland.

This was also detected by University of Surrey SAIRA (Smart Atmospheric Ionising Radiation) monitors installed on two transatlantic flights and on rapid response meteorological balloon flights at Lerwick, Cambourne and near Utrecht in the Netherlands.

Work is in hand to unscramble this complex event to determine the radiation increases worldwide using the University of Surrey computer model MAIRE (Model for Atmospheric Ionising Radiation Effects). This calculates radiation levels at aviation altitudes for normal atmospheric conditions, as well as for enhanced radiation events caused by increased solar activity.

Three immediate research papers are in production to describe the radiation monitors and their calibration, to summarise the flight data and to compare the data with available models.

A close call

The solar particle event on November 11 2025 serves to tell us that, whatever the probabilities might be, the Sun can always take us by surprise.

To underline the importance of such events for deep space missions, let’s rewind the clock to 1972. At the time, the Sun was in a similar declining phase in its 11-year cycle as we are today. Then, between August 2 and August 11 1972, the Sun unleashed one of the largest solar particle events of the space age.

This gigantic release of charged particles from the Sun occurred in between the Apollo 16 (April 1972) and Apollo 17 (December 1972) missions to the Moon.

This event was much bigger than the one in November 2025 – by a factor of 40. If it had taken place while astronauts were in space, the radiation dose could have caused severe illness or even have been fatal.

The Apollo crews had a lucky escape. But the solar particle event made an impact on on Earth. The ensuing geomagnetic storm is thought to have caused 4,000 US-laid mines to spontaneously detonate in Hanoi harbour during the Vietnam war, causing confusion and alarm on both sides.

There are ways to prepare for similar events in future. The most dangerous aspect of this radiation is its high energy component, which can penetrate shielding on spacecraft. The Surrey Space Centre Space Environment & Protection team are currently working on a detector, called the High Energy Proton instrument, that definitively measures this high energy component of solar particle radiation.

It does this through the light flashes emitted when the particles transit a transparent medium at velocities exceeding the speed of light. Astronauts often report seeing such flashes of light, even with their eyes closed, that can be caused by solar particles or high-energy cosmic rays passing through the retina or optic nerve.

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Read more:
Why has it taken so long to return to the Moon?

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Advance warning

The University of Surrey radiation detectors could now fly on a lunar orbiting mission towards the end of the decade. On this mission, they will characterise the danger to lunar bases as well as to the Earth. Nasa is planning to spend US$20 billion (£15 billion) on a base at the south pole of the Moon. A separate outpost is planned by China and Russia.

Radiation warning systems can give astronauts the time they need to retreat to storm shelters within a base or spacecraft where increased and specially designed shielding is used.

If astronauts travelling in Orion – the spacecraft used on Artemis II – receive advance word of a solar storm, they are instructed to get into storage lockers in the floor of the spacecraft. This places the crew next to Orion’s heat shield, making this area one of the most protected parts of the vehicle.

Warning systems can also help on Earth. During periods of high solar radiation, controllers could instruct aircraft to fly at lower altitudes and latitudes – and in extreme cases remain grounded.

Computing revolution

One big difference between the Apollo and Artemis missions is in the rapid development of microelectronics since the 1960s and 70s. This has led to trillion-fold increases in computer memory density and thousand-fold improvements in speed.

The Apollo computers were pioneering, but struggled to cope with the workload as Neil Armstrong and Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin descended to the lunar surface during the Apollo 11 mission in 1969. However, there is a downside to this as the technology packed into modern spacecraft is vulnerable to radiation.

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Read more:
Heat shield safety concerns raise stakes for Nasa’s Artemis II Moon mission

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The charge depositions from individual particles often exceed the amount required to change the state of the computer memory bits. In some cases it could destroy the device. It is now arguable whether the greater hazard from solar particle events is to astronaut health or to the flight electronics aboard spacecraft.

In 1972, the Apollo astronauts were very lucky. In this new age of exploration, when so many nations have designs on travel to deep space, we can’t afford to leave astronaut safety to the whims of fortune.

Clive Dyer 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. Could a solar storm derail the Artemis II mission? – https://theconversation.com/could-a-solar-storm-derail-the-artemis-ii-mission-279613

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Kate McLoughlin, Professor of English Literature, University of Oxford

Literature expresses complex and nuanced ideas – the powerful feelings that define us as human beings and the detailed observations that illuminate all aspects of our lives. It does so with words put together with consummate skill.

So, surely silence is a nothingness, an affront to the communication of both rational argument and strong emotion – literature’s opposite, even its anathema?

Well, no. In my new book Silence: A Literary History, I’ve set out to show that, over 1,200 years, English literature has spoken to us – and spoken to us eloquently – through silences as well as through words. Without silences, both formal and thematic, we wouldn’t have the exquisite hush of medieval lullabies, the suspenseful secrets of the realist novel, or the jagged fragmentation of modernist poetry.

We would lose implicitness, a good deal of ambiguity, much precision, a powerful mode of protest and a variety of moods. Iago would explain exactly why he wanted to destroy Othello in Shakespeare’s play. The dog would bark in the night time in The Hound of the Baskervilles, by Arthur Conan Doyle. And D.H. Lawrence’s sex scenes would come with a running commentary.

The start of silence

If silence has a starting point in English literary history, it’s a man at sea. The 9th-century poem The Wanderer, composed in the Old English language of the Anglo-Saxons, communicates the sheer strangeness of silence via an alien grey seascape in which the protagonist is utterly alone.

This silence is composed not of complete noiselessness – the hail beats on the waves and a seabird occasionally mews – but of an intense and total absence of human voices.

The poem conveys the difficulty of this silence – its wretched, aching loneliness and its perpetual reminder of lost happiness. But it also portrays silence as a duty, the mark of a seasoned warrior forged by Graeco-Roman stoicism, the Germanic hero ethos and Christian asceticism.

And it confronts readers, here at the very beginnings of English literature, with a silent inner voice: the necessary basis of an interior life.

Scroll on 1,200 years. En route, we will take in the tongue-tied silences of Renaissance love poetry, the green silences of 18th-century pastoral scenes and the dumbfounded wonder of the romantic sublime.

We will pause, awestruck, at Tennyson’s great epic of speechless grief, In Memoriam. We will relish the social silences of the Victorian novel, from the hilariously awkward to the emotionally profound.

The fascism-bordering silences of Modernism will make us shiver, before we ponder 20th-century experiments with visual, acoustic and dramatic silences. And we will arrive at the genre-defying, multimedia poetry collection that is Jay Bernard’s Surge (2019).

Voices that we cannot hear

In 2016, Bernard took up a residency at the George Padmore Institute in London, an archive dedicated to radical Black history in Britain. The New Cross fire, which in 1981 had killed 13 young Black people, was playing on their mind. And then on June 14 2017, as Bernard puts it: “Grenfell happened”.

Bernard was sickened by the similarities: “The lack of closure, the lack of responsibility and the lack of accountability” at the centre of both conflagrations.

Surge’s response takes its title from a remark by the Black activist Darcus Howe, one of the organisers of the Black People’s Day of Action in 1981: “When you surge and you don’t deal with the question, barbarism expresses itself.”

Speaking over the barbarism, Surge registers a gamut of other silences as it winds between the New Cross and Grenfell fires, and historic and ongoing injustices to Black people.

There is the “muffling” of the New Cross fire by the police, and the details that were literally “tippex’d out” of the file. The silence of the media cannot dispel the weighty silences of the ghostly dead. Then there are the silences that surround transness: hiddenness, rejection and defiance of conventional categories.

With this last issue, we can scroll back up the centuries again. The 13th-century romance Silence, written in Old French by a Cornishman, Heldris de Cornualle, relates the legend of a girl-child being brought up as a boy called Silence because women are forbidden to inherit their parents’ estates. This causes a furious argument between the characters of Nature and Nurture, which anticipates our own age’s differences over transness by eight centuries.

“They have insulted me,” complains Nature, “by acting as if the work of Nurture / were superior to mine!”

But Reason, on behalf of Nurture, urges Silence to resist Nature’s blandishments, or “you will never train for knighthood afterwards. / You will lose your horse and chariot.”

Nature is the winner in the story, but the poem is able to accommodate Silence as both male and female – effortlessly embracing apparent contradictions in such lines as “he was a girl”.

I believe noticing silences in literature makes us better readers. We come to recognise that some things are better left unsaid – indeed, that some things can’t be said. As a result, our antennae become attuned to literature’s stock-in-trade: the indirect and the inexplicit.

Importantly, we become aware of who hasn’t spoken. All this means we gain a better understanding of what communication is, and how we interact with other people. As our reading acquires a new, slower tempo and a new rhythm, our interpretations change.

What can silences speak to us about? Some of the profoundest aspects of our existence: our understanding of what makes a self; our sense of sacredness; our most powerful and intimate feelings; our place in the natural world; our capacity for wonder. All we have to do is notice.

The excerpt from Silence: A Thirteenth-Century French Romance was translated by Sarah Roche-Mahdi. This article features references to books that have been included for editorial reasons, and may contain links to bookshop.org. If you click on one of the links and go on to buy something from bookshop.org The Conversation UK may earn a commission.

Kate McLoughlin was awarded a Major Research Fellowship by the Leverhulme Trust to write Silence: A Literary History.

– ref. Silence: a brief literary history – https://theconversation.com/silence-a-brief-literary-history-277903

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Adam Collins, Associate Professor of Nutrition, University of Surrey

The only thing harder than losing weight is keeping it off. Many people who lose weight find themselves stuck in the cycle of “yo-yo dieting” – losing weight and gaining it all (and sometimes more) back again.

Research on yo-yo dieting has long indicated it can be harmful for your health. But a recent paper has now suggested yo-yo dieting might not be as unhealthy as we’ve been led to believe.

This recent paper, published in BMC Medicine, presents the findings of two separate weight loss trials that were conducted five years apart.

The first trial (trial 1) looked at 278 participants who were overweight or obese. Participants were randomised to follow either a low-fat or low-carb Mediterranean diet – either with or without exercise. All participants lost a comparable amount of weight at the end of the 18-month trial. But those who incorporated exercise achieved the biggest decrease in visceral fat (a dangerous type of fat that is stored around the organs).

The second trial (trial 2) was conducted five years later. Similar to trial 1, the 294 participants followed a Mediterrean-style diet for 18 months. But this time, one group ate a diet very high in polyphenol-rich foods (naturally-occurring plant compounds which have been linked to health benefits such as lower risk of chronic disease). The second group ate a normal Mediterranean diet, while the third group followed normal healthy diet guidelines.

While both Mediterrnanean diet groups lost weight and saw improvements in their overall health, the polyphenol group lost more visceral fat.

A unique aspect of trial 2 was that it included around 80 participants from trial 1. Some of these participants weighed more than they did at the start of the first trial. Such weight recidivism is common following weight loss. This is due to various biological and physiological functions that reduce metabolism and increase hunger, causing people to regain weight and store fat.

The authors compared the people who rejoined the research project against their health and weight status at the start of trial 1. They assessed body weight and other aspects of health – including body fat and blood sugar levels. Despite the re-joiners weighing around the same (if not more) than they did at the start of trial 1, they had lower levels of abdominal fat and visceral fat five years later.

Their metabolic health was also better than it was at the start of the first trial, based their blood lipid (fat) levels, cardiovascular health and blood sugar control.

On the surface, this appears to be good news – suggesting participants retained some of the health benefits of the weight they lost the first time around, despite regaining the weight.

Yet, the results suggest that the very adaptations which helped the re-joiners stay healthy despite regaining weight could potentially have repercussions later. To understand why this is the case requires a grasp of how the body responds to a calorie deficit.

Weight loss and body fat

Our fat stores (known as adipose tissue) serve as our main energy (calorie) buffer when there’s no food to provide that fuel. These stores are sacrificed to cover the energy shortfall, causing fat cells to shrink. Visceral fat is the first to go, followed by the more beneficial fat cell stores.

But when people stop dieting, the body puts priority on regaining lost fat. Indeed, our body replenishes fat stores far more quickly than it does muscle or protein stores. More importantly, in response to this shrinkage, the body compensates by making more fat cells. It does this to help the body better cope the next time there’s a fuel crisis.

So dieting literally makes you fatter in the long run. But thankfully, this will most likely be healthier subcutaneous fat (in the hips, thighs, buttocks and torso) instead of around the organs as harmful visceral fat.

So even though you’ll be carrying excess weight, you’ll experience fewer of the metabolic issues caused by unwanted visceral fat – such as insulin resistance and high cholesterol, which elevate your risk of cardiovascular disease and diabetes.

But with the higher capacity to store fat comes the risk of overshooting your original weight. This may also have implications for yo-yo dieting.

The weight loss cycle

In the paper, the re-joiners who took part in trial 2 did manage to lose weight again. But, on average, they lost slightly less than the trial’s first-timers. That said, when all of the participants from trial 2 were followed up five years later, the re-joiners from trial 1 had regained less, too. They had also retained more of the health benefits of losing weight.

Taking stock of the whole weight-loss journey, it appears that those who regained weight and then joined trial 2 are at a comparable place at the end of ten years to those who just did trial 1.

But there are a few caveats to the trial’s findings.

First, the paper only examined body fat. It didn’t provide any information on lean tissue (such as muscle). This is important, as when we lose weight we lose both fat and muscle. Given muscle’s importance for a healthy metabolism, a lack of muscle could result in even greater weight gain.

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Read more:
Weight loss: why you don’t just lose fat when you’re on a diet

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It’s also not clear whether regaining weight changes the nature of muscle tissue. There are two key types of muscle fibre. Type 1 is smaller and more efficient at burning fat. Type 2 is larger, faster and more powerful – important for explosive exercise.

If an overall loss of muscle results in muscle fibres changing from type 1 to type 2, this could increase risk of health problems – including sarcopenic obesity and earlier onset of age-related health issues associated with muscle loss.

Overall, the paper shows us that weight loss is still beneficial for your health – even if it requires a few attempts to get to your goal weight. But to avoid potentially gaining more weight the second time around, it’s key to establish good diet and lifestyle changes that are sustainable long-term.

Adam Collins is affiliated with Form Nutrition Ltd as consultant Head of Nutrition

– ref. Is yo-yo dieting bad for you? Here’s what the latest research shows – https://theconversation.com/is-yo-yo-dieting-bad-for-you-heres-what-the-latest-research-shows-278932

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Robyn Klingler-Vidra, Vice Dean, Global Engagement | Associate Professor in Political Economy and Entrepreneurship, King’s College London

One firm, Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company (TSMC), produces more than 90% of the world’s most advanced semiconductor chips. These chips are essential for smartphones, artificial intelligence, high-performance computing and cutting-edge military systems.

Taiwan’s dominance of advanced chips acts as a chokepoint for the global economy. Days or weeks without their manufacturing would affect the supply and price of numerous products around the world. This is comparable to how the current disruption to shipping in the Persian Gulf due to the Iran war is affecting oil-dependent markets globally.

Taiwanese semiconductor manufacturing supremacy has transformed the island nation into what I have described in my research as a “niche superpower”. It wields outsized global influence by commanding a strategically indispensable industry.

Taiwan did not stumble into this position. In the 1970s, Taiwanese technocrats recognised that the nation could not immediately compete at the world’s electronics frontier. One of them was Kwoh-Ting Li, then minister of economic affairs, who is often referred to as the “father of Taiwan’s economic miracle”.

At that time, Taiwan lacked the financial capital and technological skills to compete with industry leaders such as Japan and the US. So rather than trying to dominate the entire semiconductor industry from design through to production, Taiwanese policymakers focused on building capabilities in precision manufacturing. This is the most operationally demanding part of the semiconductor value chain.

Established in 1973 by the Taiwanese government, the Industrial Technology Research Institute carefully acquired semiconductor process technology through licensing agreements with the now defunct US firm Radio Corporation of America (RCA). It then trained a generation of Taiwanese engineers.

The pivotal moment came in 1987, when Morris Chang established TSMC. Chang, a US-trained engineer who had spent decades at American semiconductor multinational Texas Instruments, devised what is now known as the “pure-play foundry” model.

Rather than designing and manufacturing its own branded chips, this meant that TSMC would manufacture chips for other firms. This strategic choice was transformative because it reassured American and European semiconductor companies that TSMC would not compete with them. It allowed major tech firms such as Qualcomm and later Nvidia to outsource chip production to Taiwan without fear of intellectual property leakage or strategic rivalry.

The Taiwanese semiconductor industry grew within the Hsinchu Science Park, a major industrial cluster south of the Taiwanese capital of Taipei. By the early 1990s, Hsinchu Park hosted more than 140 chip manufacturing firms and employed around 30,000 workers. The strength of the cluster attracted legions of Taiwanese engineers back from the US, helping Taiwan become the global leader in the production of advanced semiconductors.

The ‘silicon shield’

Taiwan’s semiconductor dominance has played an overt role in protecting the island from its existential threat – a Chinese invasion. This phenomenon was explicitly named in 2021 in an article published in Foreign Affairs magazine, where the former Taiwanese president, Tsai Ing-wen, argued that Taiwan’s semiconductor industry acts as a “silicon shield”.

The dependence of the global economy on Taiwanese-made advanced chips, she argued, means the disruption caused by a Chinese invasion would trigger catastrophic global economic consequences. Taiwan’s allies would thus be compelled to come to its defence.

In recent years, Taiwan’s silicon shield has come under threat. Following the start of US export restrictions on advanced chipmaking equipment to China in 2020, Beijing has accelerated its efforts to build indigenous capacity in chip manufacturing. It has significantly increased investment in its semiconductor industry.

Semiconductors were the underperformer in the Made in China 2025 strategy, through which Chinese leadership aimed to transform their nation into a high-tech manufacturing superpower. China fell short of its goals for the localisation of semiconductor production and global market share, missing targets by the 2025 deadline.

However, Chinese chip manufacturers like HiSilicon and Semiconductor Manufacturing International Corporation have been gaining momentum. A proposal by 13 Chinese chip industry executives in March outlined aims to increase self-sufficiency to 80% by 2030. China’s semiconductor self-sufficiency is currently around 33%.

At the same time, Washington is pushing to bring semiconductor manufacturing back onshore. Biden-era initiatives such as the Chips and Science Act offered incentives for TSMC’s sprawling manufacturing facility in Arizona, which opened in 2022 as part of US efforts to boost domestic chip production.

These incentives for TSMC included up to US$6.6 billion (£5 billion) in direct investment and significant tax credits. TSMC committed an initial US$65 billion to the plan, with the Trump administration announcing in March 2025 that the company would boost its US investment by a further US$100 billion.

Elon Musk also recently announced plans for advanced chip facilities in Texas for his two companies, Tesla and SpaceX. In light of Musk’s concerns that companies like TSMC are not producing the volume of chips his companies need, the so-called “Terafab” venture aims to consolidate every stage of the semiconductor production process under one roof and is expected to cost in the range of US$25 billion. Other companies investing in chip fabrication in the US include Micron, Texas Instruments and Intel.

Despite US and Chinese efforts, replicating Taiwan’s manufacturing ecosystem is difficult. It requires not only capital and equipment, but also knowledge that has been accumulated over decades as well as dense supplier networks and an unparalleled engineering workforce.

TSMC has struggled to hire talent in Arizona, and has resorted to flying thousands of workers in from Taiwan in a bid to improve the skills of locals. And while TSMC is now producing semiconductors at the cutting edge of 2-nanometre scale, the Chinese self-sufficiency goals aim to have “entirely domestically produced equipment” for the less sophisticated 7-nanometre and 14-nanometre generations of chips.

The difference between 2nm and 7nm chips is significant – a 45% increase in performance while using 75% less power. The narrower chips are used for advanced processes such as cutting-edge AI, while the wider ones are used in a broader range of electronics, like smartphones, desktop processors and automobiles.

Taiwan’s semiconductor story is ultimately one of strategic foresight. By choosing manufacturing over design, embedding itself within US-led technological networks and cultivating world-class process expertise, Taiwan transformed structural vulnerability into structural power.

Through its semiconductor dominance, Taiwan stands out as the quintessential niche superpower. But history shows that superpower status, including in niches, is never permanent. The technological frontier moves, rivals learn and allies hedge.

For Taiwan, remaining indispensable to the global economy will require not only staying ahead technologically. It will also require carefully orchestrating the political, financial and human capital foundations that made its silicon shield possible in the first place.

Robyn Klingler-Vidra received a research grant from the Chiang Ching-kuo Foundation between 2019 and 2023. The grant funded research on the educational and professional background of north-east Asia’s innovation policy leaders across the post-war period. The study was published in World Development in April 2025 and is available here: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0305750X25000646.

– ref. How Taiwan came to dominate the global chip industry – https://theconversation.com/how-taiwan-came-to-dominate-the-global-chip-industry-276939