Billionaires with $1 salaries – and other legal tax dodges the ultrawealthy use to keep their riches

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Ray Madoff, Professor of Law, Boston College

Who pays the most taxes? Javier Zayas Photography/Moment via Getty Images

Ray Madoff, a Boston College law professor, has written a new book: “The Second Estate: How the Tax Code Made an American Aristocracy.” She recently spoke to Kara Miller, host of the podcast “It Turns Out,” about how the American tax system has changed over the past 40 years, widening inequality. Below is a condensed and edited version of the interview.

Miller: Mark Zuckerberg was the lowest-paid employee at Meta in 2024, and he made US$1. But he is not the only very rich person who has collected $1 for a year’s work. Why would incredibly rich CEOs make only $1 a year when they could pay themselves millions?

Madoff: The reason is taxes. Income from work is the most heavily taxed type of income, as it is subject to both income and payroll taxes. A self-employed person who makes a modest income of $60,000 will pay over $13,000 of it in payroll and income taxes. Meanwhile, high-income earners who earn a $400,000 salary can pay about 30% of their income in payroll and income taxes.

So the first step in avoiding taxes is avoiding salary, and that is what our richest Americans often do.

Ray Madoff on the ‘It Turns Out’ podcast.

Elon Musk received a salary of $0 from Tesla in 2024. Jeff Bezos earns $81,840 a year of income, low enough to get the child tax credit, which he took in 2021. One of our higher-paid billionaires is Warren Buffett, and he only gets $100,000 a year in salary and bonus combined.

All of these people are keeping their taxes down by keeping their salaries down. They are not avoiding compensation altogether, however, as they are well paid through the growing value of their stock. In 2024, Bezos’ wealth increased by $80 billion, Zuckerberg’s by $113 billion, Musk’s by $213 billion. Even better, they can enjoy this growing wealth entirely free of income tax and reporting.

You make the case that part of the reason that these individuals have been able to accumulate wealth so quickly is because of the tax system. How has the tax system enabled their wealth to continue to grow so quickly?

Historically, the tax system has operated as a bulwark against concentrations of wealth. And in this way, it has served to legitimate our capitalist system by showing how it can work to extract large amounts of money from our wealthiest citizens for the common good.

The cover of a book is shown with the title 'The Second Estate: How the Tax Code Made an American Aristocracy.'

University of Chicago Press

However, over the past 40 years or so there have been a number of changes that have allowed the wealthy to avoid taxes altogether on their investments and inheritances. One area where this has particularly been the case is when it comes to investment in stocks. Prior to 1982, companies could only directly share profits with shareholders by issuing dividends. These dividends were taxed at the highest rate. In 1982, however, a subtle change to the SEC rules allowed companies to purchase their own stock on the open market. This may sound innocuous, but it led to a massive transformation.

Now, instead of issuing dividends, companies can purchase shares, which boosts the value of the stock. So any shareholders who do not need to sell can make a profit from their stock going up in value and do not need to pay taxes on this profit.

At some point, one might expect that the ultrawealthy would have to sell their shares to finance their lifestyle. Do they? In selling those shares, wouldn’t they have to pay a capital gains tax?

For most of us, when we own property or stock that has increased in value, it doesn’t mean anything to us unless we sell it. But those with great wealth can access that wealth without paying taxes by simply borrowing against their assets. And that is what our richest Americans do.

Billionaires like Larry Ellison and Elon Musk borrow huge sums of money to support their lifestyle, pledging their stock as collateral. This borrowing is entirely tax-free and comes at good rates. In addition, in recent years the growth in stock value more than compensates for any interest that might accrue. To pay the interest and pay back the loans, they simply borrow again.

Does this mean the people with the most money are not contributing to the common expenses of the government? What about through the estate tax?

One would think that the estate tax would do a good job here. After all, it is a 40% tax on all transfers by gift or at death in excess of approximately $15 million. However, this tax no longer accomplishes what it once did.

During the George W. Bush presidency, 18 wealthy families launched a campaign to repeal the federal estate tax. It labeled the estate tax the “death tax,” calling it an unfair double-taxation that harms family farms and businesses. Chester Thigpen, who owned a Christmas tree farm, was the face of this movement. He argued that the estate tax took away his right to pass his Christmas tree farm to his children.

Ripped $100 bill against a blue background
The mighty $100 bill.
dem10/Getty

This narrative was completely false. The estate tax has many provisions to protect family farms and businesses. And Thigpen was misled; he was never subject to the estate tax, as his estate was much smaller than the exclusion amount.

But much of the public began to believe that the estate tax – or the “death tax” – was unfair. Though there is nominally an estate tax today, Congress has not enacted a single provision to close loopholes in 35 years. As a result, loopholes abound that allow the wealthy to shelter their money from taxation. These mechanisms are so effective that even though the wealthiest 1% of Americans own $50 trillion, the entire amount collected by the estate tax in 2024 was about $30 billion, an amount that Musk has gained and lost in a day.

Now, the estate tax serves as a cover for the richest Americans, who are served better by preserving a tax that makes it look like they pay taxes.

If the richest Americans do not pay taxes, who does the brunt of the burden fall to?

In terms of our yearly income tax, the brunt of the burden falls on high-income earners, people earning hundreds of thousands of dollars a year. These people can be paying up to 50% of what they make in payroll and income taxes. Confused, they think their interests align with the ultrawealthy more than regular workers. In fact, people who earn a lot through their job – from doctors to executives – are carrying the largest burden, alongside lower-wage workers.

Popular statistics make it seem as though the richest Americans are paying the majority of taxes. One such statistic is that the top 1% pay 40% of the income taxes, while 40% of Americans pay no income tax at all. The top 1% here refers to income earners.

Remember, the very richest Americans do not acquire their wealth through taxable income and are just as likely to be a part of the 40% of the lowest earners who pay no income tax.

In reality, 30% of U.S. wealth is now controlled by the richest 1% of Americans, and our current rules provide no assurances that they will ever pay taxes on their growing wealth.

The Conversation

Ray Madoff does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

ref. Billionaires with $1 salaries – and other legal tax dodges the ultrawealthy use to keep their riches – https://theconversation.com/billionaires-with-1-salaries-and-other-legal-tax-dodges-the-ultrawealthy-use-to-keep-their-riches-271714

Unpaid caregiving work can feel small and personal, but that doesn’t take away its ethical value

Source: The Conversation – USA (3) – By Jen Zamzow, Instructor, University of California, Los Angeles; Concordia University Irvine

Work and family are both central to many people’s sense of identity and how they hope to make a difference. Kobus Louw/E+ via Getty Images

As child care costs outpace wages, more families are facing difficult decisions about whether to scale back work in order to care for loved ones. Caregiving remains the top reason women ages 25-54 leave the workforce.

And it’s not just parents who struggle. Nearly 60 million Americans provide care for an adult family member, and two-thirds say they have trouble balancing their jobs with their caregiving responsibilities. Nearly 1 in 4 working caregivers reported either missing work or being less productive because of their care duties.

When the demands become too much to juggle, some people quit their jobs, cut back on their hours or turn down promotions in order to provide unpaid care. For many households, that’s a financial strain; others save money that way. But even so, the decision can feel heavy – like leaving behind a sense of purpose that extends beyond the family.

These choices force deeper questions: What counts as meaningful work? What do we owe to others, and what’s reasonable to expect of any one person?

For many people, work and family are central to identity and how they hope to make a difference in the world. Men and women struggling with whether to step back from a career may wonder whether doing so is the best use of skills or training. Do we owe the world something “bigger”? As much as we care about loved ones, caregiving can feel too small and personal to matter.

As someone who writes and teaches about ethics and social policy, I believe philosophy can help people see these decisions more clearly. Ethics doesn’t give tidy answers or eliminate the tension between work and care, but it can help us understand their moral value.

‘Too small’?

Today, American culture often measures moral worth in terms of results and impact – where doing good means doing more. In this context, stepping back from a professional career to care for a loved one can feel like a failure of ambition or responsibility.

If ambition is measured by observable progress, caregiving is especially vulnerable to being misread as “leaning out.” Many of the daily tasks of caregiving – feeding, bathing, dressing and driving to appointments – can seem inconsequential. The end result of much of this work is invisible: You wind up in the same place you were before. For all the work that goes into sustaining life, there aren’t many “impressive outcomes” to point to.

A brunette man with glasses holds an infant in one arm as he reaches into a sink in a cluttered kitchen.
Doing the dishes brings you back to where you started, but it also keeps life going.
AJ_Watt/E+ via Getty Images

In fact, one of care’s most important benefits lies in preventing outcomes: avoiding injuries, medication errors, hospital admissions, developmental delays, cognitive decline, loneliness, depression and so on. These “nonevents” are easy to overlook. In public health, this is sometimes referred to as the “preparedness paradox”: The better prevention works, the less visible its effects.

Appreciating the full value of care means considering what would happen without it. If the answer is that there would be more risk, more crises or more downstream costs, then care is making a difference. Health care ethicists, for example, use this kind of counterfactual reasoning to evaluate harm and benefit, asking how a patient would have fared without an intervention. Caregiving that reduces vulnerability and prevents suffering is a genuine moral achievement.

Still, helping a handful of people can look minor compared to careers measured by reach or scale. Good care requires a level of presence and attentiveness that just can’t be scaled.

But that isn’t a failure. “Smallness” is actually part of the point: Care is personal – and “personal” doesn’t mean morally trivial.

In fact, there’s a rich philosophical tradition that puts meeting the needs of the people we’re responsible for at the very heart of moral life. Relationships are core to who we are. In care ethicists’ view, attachments to other people are not distractions from morality but expressions of what it means to live a good human life.

Close relationships make special claims on us. Ties with particular people carry moral weight, not just emotions – they give genuine reasons to act. As philosopher Samuel Scheffler notes, it makes little sense to say we value a relationship if we don’t think it places any demands on us. Caring about another person’s needs is part of what it means to care about them.

Attending to a loved one’s needs and interests honors those special claims and imbues care tasks with extra meaning – showing someone that we believe they’re worth our time and attention. Caring for loved ones might be modest in reach, but making another person feel truly seen and valued can make a deep impact.

‘Too personal’?

Even if care isn’t “too small” to matter, it might still seem too personal to matter much to the wider world. But while care is certainly personal, it’s also socially significant.

A young Asian woman reaches around to hug an older Asian woman from behind, as they sit in a sun-lit room.
Seen in the right light, caregiving work shouldn’t feel ‘small.’
travelism/E+ via Getty Images

As care ethicists like Joan Tronto and Eva Kittay argue, caring for particular people reveals something universal about the human condition: Everyone is dependent and sustained by care at different points in our lives. Former first lady Rosalynn Carter captured it simply: “There are only four kinds of people in the world – those who have been caregivers, those who are currently caregivers, those who will be caregivers and those who will need caregivers.”

Understanding dependency as a shared human condition helps explain why care is foundational to collective well-being. Unpaid caregiving in the U.S. is worth an estimated US$1.1 trillion annually, making it one of the largest sources of social support.

However, care has value beyond its economic impact. Care makes family, community and civic life possible, with benefits that reach well beyond the household. As economist Nancy Folbre writes in “The Invisible Heart”: “Parents who raise happy, healthy, and successful children create an especially important public good” – one that will benefit employers, neighbors and fellow citizens.

Treating care as a private matter rather than a shared social good has consequences. It places the moral and practical weight of caregiving on individual families – most often on women. I believe this narrow view unfairly shifts responsibility and also distorts value, limiting society’s sense of what matters.

Policy changes could ease the strain on caregivers but wouldn’t remove the personal choices families face every day. Even in a more supportive system, I believe Americans would need ways of thinking about work and care that give a fuller account of their value. Caregiving’s broader public benefits are diffuse and hard to measure. But recognizing that care sustains not only families but communities too is a reminder that paid work and unpaid care are not opposites. They are both ways to contribute to the common good.

Of course, loved ones’ needs can often be met without career changes. But when families need to make tough choices, it helps to have a fuller picture. Care ethics is not a demand for perfect caregiving or self-sacrifice; it’s an argument that care matters and that people deserve support as they respond to real limits. Stepping back from work to care doesn’t have to mean stepping back from contributing to the world – it changes where contribution happens.

The Conversation

Jen Zamzow has received funding from UC Berkeley’s Greater Good Science Center, as part of its “Spreading Love Through the Media” initiative, supported by the John Templeton Foundation.

ref. Unpaid caregiving work can feel small and personal, but that doesn’t take away its ethical value – https://theconversation.com/unpaid-caregiving-work-can-feel-small-and-personal-but-that-doesnt-take-away-its-ethical-value-265025

Canada’s exile of Japanese Canadian citizens: A shameful 80-year anniversary few remember

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Jordan Stanger-Ross, Professor, History and Director, Past Wrongs, Future Choices, University of Victoria

In the closing weeks of 1945, months after the Second World War had ended, the Canadian cabinet enacted executive orders to banish more than 10,000 Canadians of Japanese descent to Japan, stripping many of them of Canadian citizenship in the process.

At the same moment that Canada began to turn its attention to the importance of human rights in the post-war world, it contemplated a brazen rights violation at home of enormous scale and cruelty. Canadian history has mostly forgotten about the exile of Japanese Canadians.

Our book Challenging Exile: Japanese Canadians and the Wartime Constitution delves into those dark days.

The end of a crisis often draws less attention than its onset. Dec. 7, 1941 has become, as United States President Franklin D. Roosevelt predicted, a date that lives in infamy.

Japan’s attacks on Hong Kong and Pearl Harbor plunged Canada and the Allies into war in the Pacific. In the months that followed, amid fears that the North American West Coast might become a new front in the Second World War and following decades of entrenched racism in law and policy, Canada ordered the uprooting of every Japanese Canadian from their home in coastal British Columbia.

Rendered stateless, homeless

The uprooting is largely remembered for the internment of more than 22,000 Japanese Canadians in more than a dozen sites scattered across the interior of British Columbia. But that was just the beginning of a cascade of injustice which followed.

Unlike in the U.S., internment did not end in 1945 in Canada. When the Second World War ended, Japanese Canadians had no homes to return to. Years earlier, the Canadian government had made the fateful decision to dispossess uprooted Japanese Canadians of everything they owned, including many of their personal possessions, as well as their businesses, farms and houses.

Dispossession carved the path to exile. As Canada contemplated how to end the internment of a dispossessed people, it settled on scattering and exile. Japanese Canadians would be encouraged to relocate to uncertain lives in eastern Canada or accept banishment to Japan.

To ensure as many Japanese Canadians as possible opted for exile, government officials toured internment camps stressing that rights to voting, the education of children and secure housing or employment would not be assured to Japanese Canadians in post-war Canada.

a smiling asian woman with her arm around a young girl with mountains in the background
Irene Kato, right, was born in Vancouver in 1925. She was uprooted from Vancouver to the Tashme internment camp in 1942 and exiled to Japan after the war.
(Image courtesy of Carol L. Tsuyuki), CC BY

The policy was devastatingly effective. More than 10,000 Canadians of Japanese descent, all of whom had been uprooted and dispossessed from their homes, signed up for exile in the summer of 1945. When thousands wrote to the government to withdraw those signatures in the months that followed, Canada enacted the orders of exile on the premise that anyone who signed — and their children along with them — were no longer fit to reside in Canada.

As courts grappled with whether the exile was legal, Canada arranged for the exile of nearly 4,000 Japanese Canadians from May to December 1946. RCMP officers loaded men, women and children onto decommissioned warships and sent them to Japan.

Naturalized citizens were stripped of status, rendered stateless and placeless. Families arrived to a Japan devastated by war and wracked by famine. Many would never set foot in Canada again.

Rationales rooted in racism

Canada’s expulsion of thousands of Japanese Canadians offers lessons in a world of sharpening borders, insecurity and talk of who does and does not belong in a national community.

In the U.S., arguments have resurfaced about denaturalizing citizens, deporting people based on status and about the supposed racial character of citizenship. The same perspectives can be found in the legal and political arguments the governments of Canada and British Columbia employed to justify the exile of Japanese Canadians.

Turning our historical attention to the end of conflict rather than the beginning reminds us of the ways in which harms set in motion in one moment can twist and persist long after the originating crisis has abated.

An Asian woman reaches up to clasp the hand of an unseen person on a train.
Japanese Canadians in the British Columbia interior bid farewell to community members bound for Japan in 1946.
(Library and Archives Canada)

It reminds us that rationales rooted in racism can become security claims, whether real or imagined. The history of exile should give us pause too about arguments we are hearing again that human rights should never prevent a government from implementing a policy favoured by the majority.

In December 1945, neither courts, legislatures, cabinets nor civil servants stopped the exile of Japanese Canadians. But here too is a final lesson worth remembering.

Although Canada claimed the legal power to exile many more than the 4,000 Canadians it banished to Japan, our book describes how it abandoned the policy when newspapers across Canada began to denounce the policy as fundamentally un-Canadian, anti-democratic and contrary to the equal promise of Canadian citizenship without discrimination.

Fragile rights to citizenship

If Canadian law allowed exile to occur, Japanese Canadians argued, then fundamental Canadian laws needed to change. Eighty years later, the consequences of the exile of Japanese Canadians lingers largely unseen — the trajectories of the lives of thousands of Canadians and the Japanese Canadian community would never be the same.

The Canada that emerged from the exile changed too. It was not that racism or rights abuses disappeared. And yet in the growing movement demanding greater protection for constitutional rights lay recognition of the harms vulnerable communities are exposed to, especially in moments of insecurity and its aftermath.

On the 80th anniversary of the exile of Japanese Canadians, we should remember the harmful way Canada’s Second World War ended for so many thousands. And we should remember that the fragile rights to citizenship we sometimes take for granted were hard won and emerged, in part as a result of their denial. In that sense, we all live in the shadow cast by exile.

The Conversation

Jordan Stanger-Ross receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. He is affiliated with the University of Victoria.

Eric M. Adams receives funding from SSHRC.

ref. Canada’s exile of Japanese Canadian citizens: A shameful 80-year anniversary few remember – https://theconversation.com/canadas-exile-of-japanese-canadian-citizens-a-shameful-80-year-anniversary-few-remember-272202

Hacked phones and Wi-Fi surveillance have replaced Cold War spies and radio waves in the delusions of people with schizophrenia

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Alaina Vandervoort Burns, Assistant Clinical Professor of Psychiatry and Biobehavioral Sciences, University of California, Los Angeles

Everyday tech of modern life can take on sinister dimensions for people with thought disorders. Busà Photography/Moment via Getty Images

A young woman starts to become suspicious of her cellphone. She notices it listing Wi-Fi networks she does not recognize, and the photos on her contact cards seem to mysteriously change at random times. One day she tries to make a call and just hears static on the line. She begins to think that someone – or an entire organization – has hacked her phone or placed spyware in it, and she wonders what crime she is being framed for.

Built-in laptop webcams, unfamiliar Wi-Fi networks, targeted ads on search engines and personalized algorithms on social media sites: Most people have come to accept and ignore the quirks and drawbacks of daily contact with the internet and devices such as cellphones and computers. But for people with severe mental illness, new technologies are fertile ground for the start of false ideas that can lead eventually to a break with reality.

Psychiatrists like me help people who are bothered by their thoughts, behaviors or emotional states. For the past 10 years I’ve been working closely with people who have schizophrenia.

Schizophrenia, sometimes referred to as a type of thought disorder, is a chronic condition in which alterations in brain function change the way one perceives the world. People with schizophrenia can become hyperaware of their surroundings, often interpreting things they see or hear as being hostile and directed toward them even when there’s no real danger.

Over time, people with schizophrenia can develop delusions: beliefs that are fully held even though they are not based in reality and even when there is evidence to the contrary.

With technology and the internet now such an integral part of daily life, it’s no wonder that people with schizophrenia have incorporated new technologies into their delusional beliefs. In my recent research, my colleagues and I set out to explore the ways modern tech influences the content of delusions for people today.

Old delusional themes expressed in new ways

Most delusions are persecutory, meaning a person believes they are being watched, followed or monitored. Other delusional forms involve the belief that a person has special powers, is being controlled by outside forces, or that a spouse is unfaithful even when they are not.

Prior research has shown that these themes are consistent among people with schizophrenia, but the sociopolitical context in which a person lives shapes the form in which they are expressed.

For example, Americans living during World War II developed persecutory delusions involving Germans, while those living during the Cold War focused on communists. People with thought disorders have incorporated important events such as the fall of the Berlin Wall and the O.J. Simpson trial into delusional frameworks.

Surveillance camera with red lens glowing in the dark.
New technologies offer new raw material for persecutory delusions to work with.
hernan4429/iStock via Getty Images Plus

The past three decades have seen incredible strides in technological advances and easy access to the internet. How have these old themes become repackaged and expressed in the digital age?

For this research, my colleagues and I reviewed medical records of 228 people with thought disorders who participated in a specialized day treatment program between 2016 and 2024.

We identified any mention of delusional thought content and examined the ways in which these beliefs incorporated new technology. We also analyzed the data to see whether certain people were more likely to express delusions tied to technology, or if there was a change in the frequency of these delusions over time.

Delusions of persecution via common tech

Over half of our study’s participants mentioned new technology or the internet when describing delusional beliefs. Most commonly, people felt they were being persecuted via their electronics – that their Wi-Fi networks, computers or cellphones had been hacked or implanted with tracking devices. One person reported believing that neighbors had access to their Wi-Fi network and were monitoring their activities, while another worried that family members had put tracking devices on their phone.

About a quarter of participants reported delusional beliefs surrounding social media. For example, people believed that celebrities were communicating with them directly through social media posts, that they were receiving encoded messages through suggested playlists, or that social media algorithms were linked directly to their thoughts.

Some participants felt they were being monitored through hidden cameras or microphones implanted in their homes or even in their bodies. Several reported what’s known as the “Truman Show delusion” – the belief that their lives are staged and recorded, their daily activities broadcast as a reality TV show.

hand holds phone with emojis, hearts, likes etc rising in a cloud around it
The universe of social media figured in a number of delusions.
d3sign/Moment via Getty Images

With each passing year of the 21st century, we found participants were significantly more likely to express delusions connected to technology.

Stretching the bounds of past realities

Our study confirms that common delusional themes, such as persecution, have become repackaged for the digital age. Interestingly, people often described fears that were based on misunderstanding how technology works – or fails to work. A Wi-Fi router that needed to be reset, a familiar app with a new logo, and text messages that disappeared over time were all cause for suspicion.

The issue that has become hardest for me to grapple with as a psychiatrist is how any of us can distinguish delusional beliefs from reality, given things we never could have imagined would be possible just 10 years ago are now commonplace. Although social media algorithms are not currently linked to our thoughts, is it such a stretch to imagine that in a few short years they may be?

Given recent advances in AI, our collective perception of reality is likely to be further distorted in the years to come. We will all need to find ways to anchor ourselves in a common truth and determine what’s real – and what isn’t.

The Conversation

Alaina Vandervoort Burns does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

ref. Hacked phones and Wi-Fi surveillance have replaced Cold War spies and radio waves in the delusions of people with schizophrenia – https://theconversation.com/hacked-phones-and-wi-fi-surveillance-have-replaced-cold-war-spies-and-radio-waves-in-the-delusions-of-people-with-schizophrenia-271620

Trump’s second term is reshaping US science with unprecedented cuts and destabilizing policy changes

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Kenneth M. Evans, Fellow in Science, Technology, and Innovation Policy, Baker Institute for Public Policy, Rice University

Before 2025, science policy rarely made headline news. Through decades of changing political winds, financial crises and global conflicts, funding for U.S. research and innovation has remained remarkably stable, reflecting the American public’s strong support for investing in basic science.

In his first year back in office, President Donald Trump’s relentless attempts to overhaul the federal support system for research and development has put science policy back above the fold.

As a policy scholar, I study how American presidents treat science and technology. Trump is far from the first president to be deeply skeptical of the academic research community. But his second-term actions have set a new precedent for the level of mutual distrust and its consequences for scientists.

Unlike Trump’s first term, which lacked a coherent science policy beyond its attempted across-the-board cuts to federal research agencies, his current administration has used science policy as a vehicle for its ideological goals. Policy levers historically used to drive science in the national interest have instead been repurposed to punish universities, limit freedom of inquiry and promote private sector interests.

Given science and technology’s critical importance to the nation’s economic growth, industrial competitiveness and national security, it’s worth taking a look back at science policy in 2025, a year of unprecedented reform – and resilience.

Science gets a voice

The conservative Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025, which provided much of the blueprint for Trump’s second term, recommended the president “increase the prominence” of the director of the White House Office of Science and Technology Policy. To that end, then-President-elect Trump named Michael Kratsios as Office of Science and Technology Policy director and his chief scientific adviser weeks before taking office, tasking him with “(blazing) a trail to the next frontiers of science.”

Michael Kratsios stands behind Trump, seated and holding up a signed document
As head of the White House Office of Science and Technology Policy, Michael Kratsios’ role is to advise President Trump on science-related matters.
Roy Rochlin/Hill & Valley Forum via Getty Images

Kratsios, a high-ranking alum of the first Trump administration and protégé of billionaire tech investor Peter Thiel, shares Trump’s skepticism of universities. His tenure in the White House has so far been marked by highlighting the failures of the U.S. science policy system rather than its successes. For Kratsios, American science is suffering from an outdated and morally corrupt incentive system too reliant on research universities.

Kratsios arrived at the White House with a clear vision for redesigning America’s 80-year-old social compact for science in line with Trump’s political agenda. In under a year, he helped push through four major science policy reforms.

Gold Standard Science” recommits the U.S. to scientific integrity and adds political oversight into agency operations.

Another sweeping executive order works to centralize federal grantmaking and align research activities with presidential priorities.

The White House AI Action Plan supports AI upskilling and reskilling workforce programs and catalyzes private sector innovation through deregulation.

And Project Genesis, branded as a successor to the Manhattan Project and Apollo program, leverages public datasets and the computing infrastructure of the Department of Energy’s national labs to advance AI for science.

Taken together, Trump’s second-term science policy reflects several emerging trends in U.S. research policy: the public’s growing distrust of higher education, the private sector’s accelerating investment in fundamental research, and the government’s increasing appetite for state interventions to increase scientific and industrial competitiveness.

A broken partnership

Science has always been a system of patronage. Since the end of World War II, the U.S. government has served as the primary patron of fundamental research at American universities.

The year 2025 has laid bare the fragility of this setup, where research universities sit at the center of the U.S. innovation system. The Trump administration spent the year inventing and deploying new strategies to pause, terminate and severely curtail grants to academic institutions, testing the limits of executive authority over budget decisions.

hands hold up cardboard sign 'DOGE HANDS OFF US GOVT' in front of NIH building
Demonstrators protested funding cuts at NIH in May.
Kayla Bartkowski/Getty Images

The chaos of canceled awards, court challenges and reinstatements prompted NSF and NIH to get creative. Rushing to spend their appropriations before the end of the fiscal year on Oct. 1, they distributed over 20% fewer grants but paid out more money up front to multiyear awards – a fundamental change to how agencies have spent money.

In parallel, Trump proposed massive spending cuts to federal research agencies as part of his administration’s stated effort to dismantle the administrative state.

A budget impasse between the White House and House Democrats over certain Medicaid expansion subsidies led to a historic 43-day government shutdown. To end the shutdown, Congress opted to punt its final budget for this fiscal year to the end of January 2026 through what’s known as a continuing resolution. The stopgap law keeps budget levels unchanged from the prior year but makes it nearly impossible for agencies to plan for the following year.

Trump’s outright attacks on higher education aren’t the only source of uncertainty about next year’s science budget. The White House’s push to cap overhead costs at 15% and the university endowment tax passed this past summer in what the GOP calls the “One Big Beautiful Bill” have universities scrambling to balance the books.

Students caught in the crossfire

For many students and early-career scientists, the Trump administration’s actions toward higher education pose an existential threat to their research careers in the United States. As universities tighten their belts, they’re significantly reducing available spots in Ph.D. programs.

back of a graduating crowd with 'PROTECT INTERNATIONAL STUDENTS' on top of mortarboard
Students at Harvard, one of Trump’s biggest targets for reform, responded to policies that affected international students.
Selcuk Acar/Anadolu via Getty Images

Trump’s immigration policies and anti-DEI actions have further jeopardized the career viability of international students and scholars and students from minority or historically marginalized groups. A battery of executive orders, immigration reforms and enforcement have upended the lives of thousands of young scientists. International student enrollment in U.S. colleges and universities dropped by an estimated 17% this fall.

The effects of these actions extend far beyond the elite universities targeted by Department of Justice investigations, undermining American soft power and placing a generation of future U.S.-based scientists at risk.

The ghost of DOGE lingers

The early days of Trump’s second term will likely be remembered for Elon Musk’s outsize influence inside the White House and the launch of the Department of Government Efficiency. DOGE was tasked with reigning in the federal bureaucracy and rooting out alleged “billions and billions in fraud, waste and abuse.”

For science, DOGE’s cost-cutting crusade meant hollowing out agency expertise, ripping up contracts and searching for keywords from Sen. Ted Cruz’s list of woke science topics, such as climate change, DEI, misinformation or even “women,” in grant applications to terminate.

In practice, DOGE made little measurable progress toward Musk’s target of $1 trillion in reduced spending. Instead, DOGE closed shop in November 2025, eight months before its charter was set to expire.

DOGE’s well-publicized flop masks its less visible but more pernicious legacy: Instead of disappearing, it has been institutionalized. Trump’s budget director, Russell Vought, who spent 2025 taking aim at the federal workforce, is leveraging DOGE’s network to continue its core mission. Through forced relocations, layoffs, a deferred resignation program and the legal gray area of the shutdown, Vought is pushing science-mission agencies to reform their grant review processes and align new grants with Trump’s priorities.

By the start of December 2025, over 200,000 civil servants had left the federal workforce, including nearly 5,000 from NASA, 600 from NSF and at least 14,000 from the Department of Health and Human Services, the parent department of NIH.

The politics of science advice

In the 80 years following Vannevar Bush’s 1945 report to President Harry Truman, Science, the Endless Frontier, scientists have found themselves outside the president’s inner circle more than inside it. Even Bush, despite his legendary stature in science policy then and now, left the White House just two years later, frustrated by Truman’s unwillingness to take his advice.

With only occasional exceptions, when the interests of the president and the scientific community aligned, science advisers have rarely captured the attention of presidents in the decades since.

Kratsios seems to have Trump’s ear. The future of U.S. science rests not on whether government-sponsored research will survive the next three years. Instead, it rides on U.S. higher ed’s ability to regain the trust of the American public – and the White House.

The Conversation

Kenneth Evans receives funding from the National Science Foundation, the American Institute of Physics, and the Clinton Foundation. He is affiliated with Rice University’s Baker Institute for Public Policy

ref. Trump’s second term is reshaping US science with unprecedented cuts and destabilizing policy changes – https://theconversation.com/trumps-second-term-is-reshaping-us-science-with-unprecedented-cuts-and-destabilizing-policy-changes-271079

Who really photographed Napalm Girl? The famous war photo is now contested history

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Kate Cantrell, Senior Lecturer, Writing, Editing and Publishing, University of Southern Queensland

The Terror of War, commonly known as “Napalm Girl”, is one of the most enduring and influential images of the 20th century.

Captured on June 8 1972, the photograph shows nine-year-old Kim Phúc running naked toward a camera. She has her arms outstretched, and is flanked by other children screaming in terror after a napalm strike on their village during the Vietnam War.

For five decades, the photo has been credited to Nick Út, a then 21-year old Vietnamese photographer working for the Associated Press (AP) in Saigon.

The image earned Út the Pulitzer Prize and World Press Photo of the Year in 1973, and the National Medal of Arts (America’s highest honour for artists) in 2021.

His account of the moment – how he photographed Phúc, then rushed her to hospital to save her life – has become inseparable from the photo’s legacy. But a new documentary calls this narrative into question.

Recently released on Netflix, The Stringer is directed by Bao Nguyen and narrated by photojournalist Gary Knight. It claims the iconic image was actually taken by a local freelance photographer – a “stringer” – paid just US$20 by the AP and given a print of the photo, before his contribution was erased from history.

If true, Napalm Girl becomes not only a damning indictment of war’s brutality, but also of the systematic exploitation of non-Western journalists by Western media organisations – a pattern that persists today.

The first media war

The Vietnam War, dubbed the living room war, was the first conflict fought in the global media spotlight.

While reporters were embedded in military units during the World Wars, the horrors of those conflicts remained carefully curated – limited by the technological constraints of monochrome print and government censorship.

By the late 1960s, everything had changed. War’s violence arrived in full colour, broadcast on the evening news and splashed across the pages of magazines. America’s failure in Vietnam was increasingly apparent. And media coverage of the 1968 Mai Lai massacre turned the tide of public opinion, intensifying the anti-war movement.

By 1972, the writing was on the wall. Australian troops withdrew following massive protests during the 1970 moratoriums.

In the United States, anti-war sentiment reached fever pitch. The publication of an image showing a young Vietnamese girl naked and severely burned as she fled a misdirected attack by South Vietnamese forces only accelerated the inevitable.

A theatre of conflict

The Stringer is a kind of detective story that hinges largely on testimony from Carl Robinson, the AP’s photo editor in Vietnam at the time the photo was taken.

Now in his eighties, Robinson claims once the photo was developed, AP’s Saigon bureau chief Horst Faas ordered the credit be changed to Nick Út instead of the actual freelance photographer, Nguyễn Thành Nghệ, ensuring the image remained AP property.

The filmmakers build their case methodically through archival footage and witness accounts, including an interview with the stringer.

Perhaps the most compelling evidence emerges at the film’s climax, when French independent forensic-investigation company, Index, presents a visual-spatial timeline of the day’s events using aerial photographs, video recording and satellite imagery.

Through 3D modelling, the investigators propose Út was not in the right position to take the photo. In fact, 15 seconds after the photo was taken, Út was standing 250 feet away.

To have taken the shot, he would have needed to sprint about 75 metres in seconds, while somehow remaining outside the frame of another camera crew filming the scene.

Index concludes Út’s authorship is “highly unlikely” and editorially “doesn’t really make sense”, since Út, if he had taken the photograph, would have then moved away from the action rather than toward it.

The stringer too is unequivocal:

Nick Út came with me on that assignment, but he didn’t take that photo […] That photo was mine.

Út declined to be interviewed for the film. In a statement posted to Facebook, he called the accusation “a slap in the face”.

The fallout

Following The Stringer’s premiere at Sundance in January this year, both World Press Photo and the AP launched investigations into the documentary’s claims.

In May, World Press Photo suspended the attribution of authorship to Út, concluding that “based on analysis of location, distance, and the camera used on that day, photographers Nguyễn Thành Nghệ or Huỳnh Công Phúc may have been better positioned to take the photograph than Nick Út”.

The statement went on:

Importantly, the photograph itself remains undisputed, and the award for this significant photo […] remains a fact. Only the authorship is suspended and under review. This remains contested history, and it is possible that the author of the photograph will never be fully confirmed.

At the same time, the AP published a 97-page report concluding there is no definitive evidence Út did not take the photo, and therefore retained the attribution to him.

In the same report, however, the AP conceded its internal investigation raised “unanswered questions”, and that it “remains open to the possibility” Út did not take the photo.

The image remains available from the AP under Út’s byline. But World Press Photo now lists the photograph’s author as “indeterminate/unknown”.

Attribution in the AI age

Questions of authorship and attribution have taken on new urgency in a world of generative AI, where fabricated images, text and video are virtually indistinguishable from human-made work.

Despite huge technological advances since the 1970s, the underpinning systems remain unchanged: large corporations still appropriate the work of the less powerful without attribution or compensation.

The filmmakers claim “this was something that happened to Nick” as well, and that he had no agency in the AP’s reported decision to change the photo credit. The documentary concludes:

What we accept as the official record is often shaped more by power than perspective […] even the most entrenched histories deserve to be reexamined.

The Conversation

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

ref. Who really photographed Napalm Girl? The famous war photo is now contested history – https://theconversation.com/who-really-photographed-napalm-girl-the-famous-war-photo-is-now-contested-history-267440

Is democracy the worst form of government – apart from all the others? We asked 5 experts

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By James Ley, Deputy Books + Ideas Editor, The Conversation

Claims that democracy is in crisis are certainly not new, but recent history has given the claim a new urgency. Over the past decade or so, there has been no shortage of people expressing concern that democratic institutions are under strain.

Recent studies have indeed shown declining levels of trust in democratic systems around the world. The trend is evident in the United States, Japan, the United Kingdom and New Zealand. In Australia, too, a recent study found that trust in politics was at record lows.

We asked 5 experts to reflect on the strengths and weaknesses of democratic governance, taking as their prompt Winston Churchill’s famously backhanded observation that “democracy is the worst form of government, apart from all the others that have been tried”.


Adele Webb

“No one pretends that democracy is perfect or all-wise,” Churchill told the House of Commons in 1947, before delivering his famous line.

Democracy is not meant to rest on blind faith. It makes room for wariness, disappointment and ambivalence. Once we accept its built-in flaws and its tendency to decay from within, a lot of the anxious commentary about “eroding public trust” starts to look misplaced.

For a start, people are mostly losing trust in the governments of the day, not in democracy itself – 95% of Australians say living in a democracy is important to them. And a certain level of scepticism toward whoever currently holds temporary power is not a crisis; it’s a safeguard.

That kind of circumspection is what a living democracy depends on. Slowing down and asking how our democratic institutions are working in practice can put real limits on those who currently benefit from the status quo.

If sceptical or mistrusting citizens are not democracy’s transgressors, but its canaries in the coal mine – warning us that current democratic institutions need recalibrating – the real question is how well are we listening to the dissatisfied.

Those who benefit from the current rules have weak incentives to acknowledge the flaws, let alone rewrite them.

Adele Webb is research fellow, democracy and citizen engagement, at the Centre for Deliberative Democracy, University of Canberra.


Russell Blackford

In today’s world, democracy refers to a system of representative government with free, fair and relatively frequent elections. The particular institutions and the rationales for them vary greatly, but the essential criterion for a country to count as a genuine democracy is that it holds elections with realistic opportunities to remove unpopular governments through a non-violent process.

Where democratic institutions are in place, they provide a strong incentive for the incumbent government to avoid being seen as corrupt, tyrannical or simply incompetent. In practice, this should encourage governments to make efforts to avoid corruption and govern effectively in the common interest of the people. It isn’t foolproof, but it does give democracy one huge advantage over other systems.

Alas, democracy is fragile and it’s almost miraculous that it ever survives. The government of the day is expected to take a psychologically unnatural attitude to its opponents.

It has to maintain, firstly, that it is objectively better at governing than its opponents, whom it is justified in criticising without mercy. But then it must accept that, if it should lose an election, it will graciously hand over control of the treasury, the military, and all the agencies and powers of the state to those same opponents.

I suspect that the conditions in which this attitude seems rational and commendable are very rare, and that they are all too easy to erode. We ought to give them more thought if we really care about preserving democracy.

Russell Blackford is conjoint senior lecturer in philosophy at the University of Newcastle


Jill Sheppard

When Churchill spoke of democracy he spoke of a particular form: representative democracy. Political scientists and philosophers will take pains to tell you there are many forms of democracy: deliberation until we reach something close to consensus; random selection of citizens to decide laws; regular plebiscites to approve or veto policies.

None of them are perfect, but elections – even when they feel tedious and produce frustrating results – strike the best compromise.

Supporting democracy means supporting the idea that citizens will have some degree of oversight of the people making laws on their behalf. But oversight takes time and effort. As a citizen, I don’t want to have to learn about and vote on every act before the parliament. I also don’t want to be randomly recruited to deliberate on complex policies. I want to spend time with my family, my pets, on my hobbies and my job.

Sending representatives to Canberra to negotiate laws on our behalf and holding them to account every three years is a good deal for citizens. Do political parties work to undermine this accountability? Absolutely. Are the candidates we are offered the best available? Absolutely not. But this form of democracy hits the sweet spot of accountability and everyday life.

Jill Sheppard is senior lecturer in politics and international relations, Australian National University


Matthew Sharpe

Winston Churchill’s record dealing with colonised people merits review, but there are many reasons to support his claim about democracy.

Democracy is, above all, a system enshrining the accountability of leaders to the people who are affected by their decisions. The accountability is embodied principally in elections for public office, in which leaders who have failed their constituents can be thrown out.

When the democratic franchise extends to all adults, it is the system most true to the basic fact – long denied or obscured in history – that all adult men and women are capable of thinking for themselves. People have an intrinsic dignity which means they can and should have a say in decisions which affect their lives.

All other political systems hold that there are morally salient distinctions between people which mean entire classes, races or genders should have no say in how they are governed, nor means (short of revolution) to overthrow bad governments. Democracy is thus the least worst system in a stronger sense than Churchill granted.

That said, other political systems are easier to sustain. Democracies, over time, stand or fall on their ability to foster a public that is engaged, materially secure and educated enough to decide wisely. For this reason, democracy requires an independent media, willing and supported to fearlessly hold the feet of the powers of money and government to the fires of critical publicity.

There is a need for ongoing critical vigilance, so that the media and public offices remain free from capture by interested lobbies who support policies which so disadvantage so many ordinary people as to make law and governance, in all but name, their own exclusive prerogative.

Matthew Sharpe is associate professor in philosophy, Australian Catholic University

Jean-Paul Gagnon

Churchill’s father was an aristocrat and “meteoric conservative”. His mother was the daughter of a wealthy New York financier. He attended a private all-boys school called Harrow – today its annual fees are £63,735.

Its mottos – Stet fortuna domus (May the fortune of the House stand) and Donorum dei dispensatio fidelis (The faithful dispensation of the gifts of God) – put family (think war-won crests and land that can be inherited) and the Anglican Christian God at the forefront.

I offer this brief genealogy to ask one question: why should we care about a quip by an elite man during a sitting of the UK Parliament in 1947? Especially one who surely understood democracy to mean the mid-20th century’s inheritance of Edward Longshanks’ model parliament, founded in 1295?

This was very same Edward Longshanks who colonised Wales and began the colonisation of Scotland. Churchill himself thought well of the two-and-a-half years or so he spent with the 4th Hussars in British occupied India.

So what did Churchill know of democracy? Not much. He knew of a bicameral system held hostage by a duopoly of major parties that was overseen by hereditary peers and lords. In his career, he was surrounded almost entirely by white men of means, who were elected to parliament in a medieval plurality system that permitted voting by men and women of at least 21 years of age.

Maybe he recognised this. If he did, he would have still been right to say democracy is bad, but better than all other known non or less democratic options.

Today we know there are many other ways of being democratic and developing our respective democracies.

Jean-Paul Gagnon is senior lecturer in democracy studies, University of Canberra

The Conversation

ref. Is democracy the worst form of government – apart from all the others? We asked 5 experts – https://theconversation.com/is-democracy-the-worst-form-of-government-apart-from-all-the-others-we-asked-5-experts-271293

The #iwasfifteen hashtag and ongoing Epstein coverage show how traffickers exploit the vulnerabilities of teens and tweens

Source: The Conversation – USA (3) – By Anne P. DePrince, Professor of Psychology, University of Denver

Marina Lacerda was among the alleged victims of convicted sex trafficker Jeffrey Epstein who spoke at a news conference outside the U.S. Capitol on Sept. 3, 2025. Andrew Harnik/Getty Images News

The release of information about the powerful cadre of men associated with convicted sex offender and accused sex trafficker Jeffrey Epstein – known as the Epstein files – has been a long time coming.

Under the Epstein Files Transparency Act, which President Donald Trump signed into law in November 2025, the Justice Department must release its documents related to Epstein by Dec. 19, 2025.

But information has been trickling out for months, including more than 20,000 of Epstein’s emails released by members of Congress in November.

In the firestorm of reactions that followed, conservative media figure Megyn Kelly made comments that minimized the victimization of teenagers.

In response to her remarks, a new hashtag, #iwasfifteen, went viral, as celebrities and others took to social media to share photos of themselves as teenagers.

I’m a clinical psychologist who studies intimate violence – from child abuse to domestic violence and sexual assault. After more than two decades in this field, I wasn’t surprised to hear someone minimize the abuse of adolescents. My research and the work of other researchers across the country have shown that victims who disclose their abuse are often met with disbelief and blame.

What did surprise me was how the viral #iwasfifteen hashtag shed light on the dynamics of abuse, pointing to the vulnerabilities that traffickers exploit and the harms they cause.

Abusive tactics in sex trafficking of minors

Unlike stereotypes of teens being kidnapped out of parking lots, people who traffic minors use a range of tactics and build relationships with the teens and tweens they’re targeting. Getting young people to trust and depend on the traffickers is part of entrapping them.

One in-depth 2014 analysis revealed these strategies in action. Researchers looked at more than 40 social service case files of minors who were trafficked and interviewed social service workers.

The researchers found it was common for traffickers to use flattery or romance to entrap adolescents. Some built trust with the teens by helping them out of difficult situations. Meanwhile, the traffickers normalized sex and prostitution as they isolated their victims from their friends and family – all of which echoes the grooming described by victims of Epstein and his accomplice Ghislaine Maxwell.

The research also showed that traffickers kept tight control over the teens, using economic and emotional manipulation. They took their money, blackmailed and shamed them, and threatened harm if they were to leave. As in the Epstein case, many traffickers compelled victims to take part in the trafficking itself, such as by recruiting their friends.

The same kinds of manipulation show up in other studies nationally. A 2019 study found that across more than 1,400 cases, a third of traffickers used threats and psychological coercion to control victims.

Another research team looked across 23 studies of minors who were sex trafficked in the United States and Canada. They found that the youth, who were mostly girls, were entrapped by traffickers who pretended to love or care for them, only to manipulate and abuse them.

The tactics identified by researchers and the reports of how Epstein trapped victims on his island reveal that all the strategies used by traffickers have one thing in common: They create ever more dependence of the victim on the trafficker.

Dependence and betrayal

Adolescence is a time of rapid change – change that traffickers exploit. From the tween through the teen years, young people are forming their identities and learning about romantic relationships, all while their brains are still developing.

During this period of rapid change, they are starting to differentiate and seek autonomy. Yet they remain dependent on the adults in their lives for everything from their psychological needs, such as love, to basic physical needs, such as food and housing.

When victims of trafficking depend – financially, psychologically or physically – on the very person abusing them, it’s a betrayal trauma. In these scenarios, victims depend on the abuser, so they cannot simply leave the situation. Instead, they have to adapt psychologically.

One way to adapt is to minimize awareness of the abuse – or what psychologists call betrayal blindness. In the short term, minimizing awareness of the abuse helps the victim endure the abuse. This could be the difference between life and death for a victim whose abuser might harm them if they try to leave or report the abuse – or for a teen who doesn’t have anywhere else to turn for basic survival.

In the long term, though, betrayal traumas are linked with a host of harms that may affect how victims see themselves and the world around them. Compared with other kinds of traumas, betrayal traumas are linked to more severe psychological and physical health problems.

Betrayal trauma often leads to shame, self-blame and fear and can leave survivors alienated from and distrusting of others. Survivors may also be less likely to disclose abuse perpetrated by someone they trusted. They may even have difficulty remembering what happened to them, which can worsen self-doubt and self-blame.

Making sense of the far-reaching impacts of betrayal trauma can be difficult for survivors – and others who hear their stories later.

projected image of a woman holding a photo of her younger self. Text underneath reads, 'I was 16 when I met Epstein.'
Images of alleged Epstein survivors holding photographs of their teenage selves were projected onto the FBI building in Washington, D.C., on Nov. 17, 2025.
Tasos Katopodis/Getty Images Entertainment via Getty Images

Myths and public opinion of victims

When sex traffickers target minors, they use strategies that give others reason to doubt victims. Most people are regularly exposed to misinformation about sexual violence and trafficking through popular media, and that misinformation plays in the perpetrators’ favor.

Researchers started documenting myths about intimate violence decades ago. Since then, research shows that erroneous views of rape, child abuse and sex trafficking persist in media – with consequences for victims.

These myths and misconceptions often seep into the conversation unnoticed, such as when even well-intentioned reporting refers to the girls trafficked by Epstein as “underaged women.” But calling tweens and teens “women” minimizes the age difference with the perpetrators. It also masks the vulnerability of children and adolescents who were victimized by adults.

Myths can include beliefs that intimate violence is rare and always physically violent, and that victims all respond the same way. Myths also tend to minimize the perpetrator’s role while shifting blame to victims for what was done to them, particularly if victims had mental health problems or used substances.

Changing the conversation

With so many myths out there, #iwasfifteen showed one way to change the usual conversation from blaming victims to exposing the ways that abusers exploit tweens and teens. Meeting myths about sex trafficking with research is crucial to putting responsibility where it belongs, on those who traffic youth and perpetrate abuse.

Research shows that the more people buy into myths, the more likely they are to blame victims or not believe them in the first place, including in sex trafficking.

And it’s not only the unsuspecting public that falls for this misinformation. When victims don’t conform to common myths, even law enforcement officers, who are trained to investigate intimate violence, are less likely to believe them.

In this way, the psychological consequences of betrayal trauma – from minimizing the abuse to psychological distress – can feed into myths that people have about intimate violence. Suddenly, it’s easier for friends, family, juries and others to blame victims or not believe them at all.

And, of course, that’s what perpetrators have often told victims all along: No one will believe you. It’s not surprising, then, that victims may take years to come forward, if ever.

The Conversation

Anne P. DePrince has received funding from the Department of Justice, National Institutes of Health, State of Colorado, and University of Denver. She has received honoraria for giving presentations and has been paid as a consultant. She has a book with Oxford University Press. She is an Advisory Group Member of the National Crime Victim Law Institute and a Senior Advisor to the Center for Institutional Courage.

ref. The #iwasfifteen hashtag and ongoing Epstein coverage show how traffickers exploit the vulnerabilities of teens and tweens – https://theconversation.com/the-iwasfifteen-hashtag-and-ongoing-epstein-coverage-show-how-traffickers-exploit-the-vulnerabilities-of-teens-and-tweens-270349

The Housemaid: this dark, sexy thriller is a seriously satisfying watch

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Harriet Fletcher, Lecturer in Media and Communication, Anglia Ruskin University

Based on the bestselling novel by Freida McFadden, The Housemaid is a dark, sexy and satisfying thriller with plenty of twists to enjoy along the way.

Millie (Sydney Sweeney) applies for a job as a housemaid for the wealthy Winchester family. We first meet her as she pulls up to the grand Winchester house in her run-down car – a gated mansion with echoes of the sinister and mysterious Manderley in Hitchcock’s Rebecca. What secrets might be contained behind these gates? Millie is about to find out.

She is interviewed by Nina Winchester (Amanda Seyfried), an eccentric and over-familiar housewife who is so taken with Millie that she immediately offers her the job on a live-in basis. An alarmingly artificial family portrait looms large in this early scene, suggesting that the Waspy Winchesters are more artist’s impression than reality.

Millie is given a bedroom in the attic – a strange place to lodge a housemaid, considering the enormity and grandeur of the Winchester mansion. The attic is stark, claustrophobic and loaded with gothic literary connotations that the story knowingly leans into.

The trailer for The Housemaid.

Also part of the Winchester household is Nina’s charming and sensitive husband Andrew (Brandon Sklenar) and their cold, and at times creepy, daughter Cecelia (Indiana Elle). Sklenar expertly plays all the right notes as Andrew – the heartthrob husband, doting dad and even Millie’s patient confidant, routinely apologising for his wife’s erratic behaviour.

He grows even more compelling as the film gains momentum. Directed by Paul Feig of Bridesmaids and Spy fame, The Housemaid is a thriller tinged with comedy. Its best, darkly funny moments are often delivered by Sklenar in climactic scenes where his lines land with perfect timing.

Cecelia, meanwhile, is an archetypal creepy kid, often found tinkering with a rickety old doll’s house that uncannily resembles the Winchester mansion, or spouting cryptic and ominous messages. That said, she serves her purpose of dropping narrative breadcrumbs as we piece together the family’s secrets.

Sweeney is adept at portraying the enigmatic housemaid, Millie. Early on, Millie confesses to us via voice-over that she has lied on her resume: she is under-qualified, sleeps in her car and washes in public restrooms.

She is desperate to hold on to this job, no matter what. Sweeney excels in playing a character who seems broken and desperate, without veering into melodrama. Even in the most high-stakes moments, there is a captivating sense of control and subtlety to her performance.

Seyfried’s troubled housewife is the foil to Sweeney’s mysterious housemaid. It’s here that Seyfried’s notably expressive style of acting comes powerfully into play. Excessively warm but with sharp edges, Nina too is something of an enigma. From her interactions with so-called friends – a shallow coterie of Stepford-wife types who gossip about her the moment she leaves the room – we learn that Nina’s life is far from perfect.

The Housemaid is an adaptation of McFadden’s hugely successful novel. She has been dubbed the “queen of crime fiction” on BookTok (the TikTok subculture dedicated to discussing fiction) due to the immense popularity of her work among influencers.

As this origin story suggests, The Housemaid is an unapologetic crowd pleaser. It doesn’t reach the intellectual heights of a thriller like Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl, which straddles genre and literary fiction. In fact, when I asked a friend why she’d read the novel, she said she’d Googled “what’s the easiest book to read?”

The Housemaid has less to say than Gone Girl about the complexity of gender roles and relationship dynamics, and I’d be surprised if any of the performances receive the kind of critical acclaim Rosamund Pike earned for her iconic turn in David Fincher’s adaptation. But let’s be clear: The Housemaid is a hell of a good time at the cinema.


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The Conversation

Harriet Fletcher 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. The Housemaid: this dark, sexy thriller is a seriously satisfying watch – https://theconversation.com/the-housemaid-this-dark-sexy-thriller-is-a-seriously-satisfying-watch-272116

Five family Christmas games that reveal how we think, communicate and connect

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Paul Jones, Associate Dean for Education and Student Experience at Aston Business School, Aston University

For many families at Christmas, the one time of year when everyone finally ends up in the same room, suggesting a game is often the best strategic move for a fun evening. At its best, this sparks an hour of genuine connection. At its worst, it revives old rivalries faster than you can say “draw four” or break into your favourite victory dance.

Games endure at Christmas because they offer structure. They give people a shared activity that’s not work or chores. Psychologists have long noted that shared play strengthens social bonds through joint attention, where people’s focus aligns around a single task. Research also shows that play can reduce stress and support wellbeing by increasing positive emotion and laughter, which are key ingredients in social bonding.

Play allows families to step outside their usual roles for a while. A normally serious parent might relax into silliness. A teenager might surprise everyone with a clever strategic move. These small shifts make interaction feel new again during a season when emotional expectations are high.

But the choice of game matters. Some games draw people closer. Others reveal how differently we communicate. And a few are almost scientifically engineered to start arguments. With that in mind, here are five psychologically informed recommendations to help you choose the right kind of festive fun.

Game box cover with two spies.

Asmodee UK

1. Best for communication skills: Codenames

Codenames looks simple. In the game two teams, red and blue, compete to describe their team’s words on a 5×5 grid of tiles with one on each space such as “disease”, “Germany” or “carrot”. Each team has one spymaster who gives a clue to help their teammates guess the right words. The aim of the game is to be the first team to guess all of your words and to avoid incorrectly guessing the one that represents the assassin, which automatically ends the game.

The challenge for the spymaster is balancing breadth and precision in the clues. They can only use one word as a descriptor, and the number of tiles it refers to. For example, if it were “carrot” they could say “orange” and would add “three” if there were three words on the grid it could refer to. This makes it a great example of how humans actually communicate.

Psychologists call this pragmatics, the study of how we extract meaning beyond literal wording. It connects to what are known as “Gricean maxims*, which describe how people use shared assumptions to interpret one another.

When Codenames goes smoothly, you can feel a group forming a shared mental model. When it does not, it shows how differently people process the same information.

2. Best for strengthening family bonds: Telestrations

Game pieces

Asmodee

Telestrations is a drawing-based game for four to eight players. It’s a bit like pictionary meets telephone where each player is given a secret word which they have to draw. That drawing is then passed on to the player on their left who has to guess the word. That word is then passed on again to the next player who draws what they think it is and so on. By the time this has gone around the group the starting word has usually transformed into something joyfully off track.

This harmless confusion is exactly why it brings people together. Research shows that shared laughter acts as social glue. The benign violation theory of humour explains why playful misunderstandings are funny rather than stressful, because they break expectations without causing harm.

Telestrations turns mistakes into a collective in joke, reducing self-consciousness and encouraging relaxed, positive connection.

3. Best for emotional regulation: Uno

A classic game in which players compete to rid themselves of all their cards but face setbacks depending on what pther players do. Uno’s rapid reversals, colour changes and Draw Four cards create sudden shifts in advantage. Even though it is all chance, it can feel personal.

This taps into well studied psychological processes. People are highly sensitive to fairness, and research on loss aversion shows we react more strongly to setbacks than gains. Studies on emotional regulation also suggest that unpredictable rewards and punishments increase frustration.

Uno creates exactly this environment. It is why the game is exciting and why it also reveals how differently people handle stress and mild competition.

4. Best for teamwork and cooperation: Pandemic

Pandemic game components

Asmodee

Pandemic asks players to work together to stop fictitious global diseases from spreading. Each player has a unique role and success depends on coordinated planning.

This aligns with research on collective efficacy, the belief that a group can achieve more together than alone. It also demonstrates shared mental models, where teams perform better when they hold a common understanding of the task and each other’s strengths.

Pandemic offers a compact example of distributed cognition, the idea that problem solving improves when thinking is shared across people and tools.

5. Best for non-verbal attunement: The Mind

The Mind removes spoken communication entirely. A cooperative game where two to four players try to lay numbered cards in ascending order (one to 100) without talking, gesturing or planning. The only cue is timing.

This creates a striking demonstration of social entrainment, the process by which people unconsciously synchronise with one another. Research on non-verbal communication shows that humans continually attune to each other, even in silence.

The Mind turns that process into a game. When a group finds the rhythm, it almost feels like mind reading. When they do not, it becomes an entertaining reminder of how easily our internal timing falls out of sync.

Game, set and reconnect

In the end, the game itself matters less than what it makes possible. Christmas can be emotionally complicated, yet play offers a simple way to reconnect, laugh together and see one another differently for an hour.

Whether you want teamwork, clear communication or harmless chaos, the right game creates a small pocket of shared space. And that might be the most valuable gift on the table.


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The Conversation

Paul Jones 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. Five family Christmas games that reveal how we think, communicate and connect – https://theconversation.com/five-family-christmas-games-that-reveal-how-we-think-communicate-and-connect-271984