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May 7, 2026

What Iran’s absence from the Venice Biennale reveals about art and politics

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Katayoun Shahandeh, Lecturer in Museum Studies, SOAS, University of London

Just days before the opening of the 2026 Venice Biennale, organisers announced that Iran would no longer participate.

A short statement posted to the Venice Biennale website on May 4 said: “With regard to the National Participations in the 61st International Art Exhibition…it has been announced that the Islamic Republic of Iran will not participate.” No explanation was given. I believe that silence is itself revealing.

Iran’s withdrawal is less a sudden decision than the result of converging geopolitical and economic pressures that are reshaping both the global art world and Iran’s place within it.

At the most immediate level, the withdrawal reflects the material realities of crisis. With internet access restricted, international flights suspended and communication networks severely disrupted, even the basic logistics of participation – coordinating, shipping and installing artworks – probably became nearly impossible for Iran.

These conditions have been compounded by intensifying economic pressures, including the sharp devaluation of the Iranian rial, which has made international cultural engagement increasingly difficult to sustain.

An explanation of the Venice Biennale.

Such constraints point to a fundamental condition of contemporary art: global exhibitions rely on infrastructures of mobility and communication that are easily destabilised by conflict and sanctions.

The timing is also significant. The decision comes amid renewed military tensions and escalating political rhetoric surrounding Iran’s position in the global order. In such moments, when political discourse edges toward existential threat, the stakes of cultural visibility are heightened. At the same time, sustaining cultural presence becomes more difficult.

More revealing still was the lack of any announced artist, curatorial framework or exhibition concept for Iran’s pavilion, even days before the Biennale’s opening.

Iran’s presence at the Venice Biennale has historically been organised through state institutions, with oversight exercised by the ministry of culture and Islamic guidance since the Iranian revolution (1978-79). As with many national pavilions, this model positions art as a form of cultural diplomacy. But in Iran’s case, it has often produced a disconnect between official representation and contemporary artistic practice.

This gap is significant. The Venice Biennale, often described as the “Olympics of the art world”, remains structured around national pavilions, with each country responsible for presenting its cultural identity on a global stage. Yet, as critics have long argued, it has never been a neutral platform, but a space where art and geopolitics intersect.

More broadly, biennials are deeply embedded in political and institutional contexts, rather than existing outside them. Within this framework, they are often understood as sites of cultural soft power, where nations project influence through artistic production.

National representation in crisis

Iran’s withdrawal must also be understood in relation to the wider turmoil surrounding the 2026 biennale itself. This year’s edition has been marked by extraordinary controversy, including disputes over the involvement of Russia and Israel, calls for boycotts and the resignation of the entire international jury just days before the opening.

These events expose the fragility of the biennale’s longstanding claim to neutrality. Rather than existing outside politics, it has become a site where geopolitical tensions are actively staged and contested.

To exhibit at the biennale is never neutral: it means entering a highly visible arena shaped by competing narratives of legitimacy and power. For the Islamic Republic, this raises a deeper tension. The biennale’s national pavilion model requires countries to present a coherent cultural identity through contemporary art. Yet Iran’s artistic landscape is anything but singular. It is shaped by internal contradictions between state and independent practices, censorship and experimentation and local production and diasporic circulation.

The entire jury resigned just days before the opening.

These tensions are difficult to reconcile within a state-managed exhibition framework. The very premise of the pavilion – art as national representation – sits uneasily with a system in which artistic expression is subject to ideological and institutional control.

At the same time, the Biennale embodies forms of global circulation, cultural competition and visibility tied to international art markets that do not always align with the cultural and political ethos of the Islamic Republic. Representation therefore involves negotiating how a nation appears, to whom, and on whose terms.

The current moment makes this tension even more acute. As political rhetoric escalates and the possibility of large-scale destruction is invoked in global discourse, cultural visibility becomes more urgent. Art offers one of the few spaces through which narratives beyond conflict and diplomacy can emerge. Yet for Iranian artists, cultural presence is becoming more fragmented, shaped by diasporic networks, constrained by national borders and limited by economic and infrastructural pressures.

Iranian artists, particularly those working through independent and diasporic networks, have for decades operated beyond the frameworks of state representation, with their work circulating internationally through alternative artistic circuits. Iran’s missing pavilion, then, does not signal the disappearance of Iranian art. Rather, it reveals the precarious conditions through which that art circulates.

Iran’s absence from the Venice Biennale also highlights the limits of the national pavilion model. The system has frequently been criticised for reducing complex artistic practices to simplified national identities, even as contemporary art now operates through transnational networks that exceed the boundaries of the nation-state.

In Venice this year, the missing pavilion reflects an art world shaped as much by political crisis as by artistic production. Iranian art is not absent from the global stage. Yet the conditions under which it circulates and remains visible have become increasingly fragile.

Katayoun Shahandeh works for SOAS University of London.

– ref. What Iran’s absence from the Venice Biennale reveals about art and politics – https://theconversation.com/what-irans-absence-from-the-venice-biennale-reveals-about-art-and-politics-282416

May 7, 2026

Motown’s Black women songwriters and producers were the invisible architects behind the pop music juggernaut

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Margena A. Christian, Emeritus professor, University of Illinois Chicago

Sylvia Moy was a trailblazing Motown songwriter. L. Busacca/WireImage for Songwriter’s Hall of Fame

During the 1960s, in a country divided by racial strife, the music of Berry Gordy Jr.’s Motown Records helped bring people together.

Motown was noted for star performers like Mary Wells, The Miracles, The Supremes, The Temptations, Martha Reeves and the Vandellas, Marvin Gaye and Stevie Wonder. But, behind the scenes, a talented group of lesser known women were driving the hits in Hitsville U.S.A.

I’m a scholar of popular culture and author of the biography “It’s No Wonder: The Life and Times of Motown’s Legendary Songwriter Sylvia Moy.” Researching my book inspired me to find other women who contributed to the Detroit label’s era of chart dominance and helped change the music industry, despite going largely unrecognized for their efforts.

I listened to Motown growing up, but it wasn’t until 2021, while sitting at home during the pandemic, that I discovered Moy’s history as the lyricist for Stevie Wonder and how she helped revive his early career.

Because Moy died in 2017, I wasn’t able to speak with her for the book. Instead I researched her life by reading countless interviews she gave, along with talking to her former colleagues at Motown, family and ethnomusicologists, who are scholars that study music through the lens of culture.

Architect of the early sound

When Gordy was organizing his company, Janie Bradford was one of the original five founding members who arrived in 1958. She was the label’s first secretary and its first female songwriter after co-writing, with Gordy, the song “Money (That’s What I Want).” That song was released on Tamla Records in 1959 and performed by Barrett Strong. When Motown was incorporated the following year, the song became the label’s first hit record on the R&B chart and Billboard Hot 100.

Woman stands behind a podium and speaks into a microphone. — Janie Bradford speaks at a 2022 tribute to Mary Wilson, a member of The Supremes, in Los Angeles. Bradford was one of the founding members of Motown.
Alison Buck/Getty Images for The Recording Academy

Later, Bradford co-wrote “Contract on Love” for Wonder and “Too Busy Thinking About My Baby,” first recorded by The Temptations and later, Marvin Gaye. Bradford, who later became Motown’s director of writer’s relations, teamed up with pianist Richard “Popcorn” Wylie in the early 1960s to form Janard, a small production company.

Bradford’s collection of poetry is what captured Gordy’s attention, so he encouraged her to be a songwriter. Her witty lyrics told stories about situations that most anyone could relate to – namely, money and love – blended with up-tempo, thumping beats.

Laying the foundation as a producer

Another key figure who paved the way with the Motown sound was Raynoma Gordy Singleton, who was married to Berry Gordy Jr. from 1960 to 1964. She organized Motown during its beginnings by completing the necessary paperwork to incorporate the business. Known as “Miss Ray” to some and “Mother Motown” to others, she located the legendary house at 2648 West Grand Boulevard that became the Motown headquarters and, decades later, the Motown Museum.

In her role as the label’s first executive vice president, she established a tape library. A piano virtuoso and singer, the Cass Technical High School graduate wrote that she was able to play all string and wind instruments. As a result, she became the company’s first female arranger and producer by putting together its first backup vocal group, the Rayber Voices, in 1958.

“Producing records was where the action was controlled – and where the money was to be made,” she wrote in her memoir, “The Untold Story: Berry, Me, and Motown,” which aimed to reclaim her place in the Motown echelon.

During the 1960s, women weren’t considered producers because of broader biases and norms in the male-dominated music industry. Even so, Miss Ray got credit for producing Jimmy Ruffin’s song “Don’t Feel Sorry for Me” in 1961.

Earning a producer’s credit was a sign of legitimacy. Most producers received a songwriting credit and determined who received credit in the liner notes for their contribution to the recording.

While women mostly worked in administrative roles at Motown, there still weren’t any female full-time, in-house songwriters and producers. Like the rest of the music industry back then, Motown’s internal structure was patriarchal with those positions.

The first certified female songwriter and producer

Yet this imbalanced gender dynamic at Motown didn’t stop Sylvia Moy.

There hadn’t been any women producers behind significant, popular songs at Motown until Moy arrived, according to interviews I conducted for her biography.

Motown was at its peak in 1964. Demand for new songs was intense. When the label’s executives realized how skillfully the two audition songs Moy performed were composed, they decided that her future was in songwriting instead of singing.

Discovered by William “Mickey” Stevenson and Marvin Gaye, Moy was hired as the first female in-house songwriter, competing with eminent colleagues like Smokey Robinson, Norman Whitfield and the songwriting trio Holland-Dozier-Holland who wrote 10 of the Supremes’ chart-topping singles. Moy made more history in 1965 after co-writing and co-producing Stevie Wonder’s “Uptight (Everything’s Alright).”

While she received the songwriting credit and helped revive the teenaged Wonder’s career, Moy wasn’t given the producer’s credit, unlike her two male counterparts, Stevenson and Henry “Hank” Cosby.

A lack of recognition stymied Moy’s career opportunities. If a songwriter or producer wasn’t credited, their value could not be validated or established, which made it harder for them to find work at other record labels.

According to my research, Moy revealed that she never got producer credit for any of her work while at Motown. This is why her legacy was buried for so long.

Other tunes she wrote for Wonder were “I Was Made to Love Her,” “My Cherie Amour” and “With A Child’s Heart,” co-written with Vicki Basemore. Moy also wrote Marvin Gaye and Kim Weston’s “It Takes Two” and The Isley Brothers’ “This Old Heart of Mine (Is Weak For You).” Though songwriter Eddie Holland told me he gave her a co-writing credit for “This Old Heart of Mine,” Moy’s name was not listed on the record, only Holland-Dozier-Holland.

Interviews I conducted with Moy’s family members and research from an ethnomusicologist suggest she was even an uncredited co-writer for Wonder’s “Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I’m Yours),” his first song as a solo producer, and The Temptations’ “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg.”

However, Holland denied this claim in an interview with me, though he also admitted that the song’s late co-writer and producer, Norman Whitfield, presented him with the lyrics, and he wasn’t sure where they came from.

Full credit along with creative control

In 1968, Valerie Simpson became Motown’s first female songwriter to also receive a producer credit. This possibly happened because her songwriting partner was her husband, Nickolas Ashford.

Other famous female songwriters like Carole King, Ellie Greenwich and Cynthia Weil also had a prominent husband in the music industry. Sylvia Moy did not, which made what she did unprecedented.

A man and a woman stand for a portrait — Valerie Simpson poses next to her husband, Nickolas Ashford. Together, they formed the famed singing and songwriting duo Ashford and Simpson. She was the first woman songwriter and producer at Motown to receive complete credit for her creative contributions.
Aaron Rapoport/Corbis/Getty Images

Simpson told Billboard in 2023 that the credit was difficult to attain because so few women were producers back then. It finally happened with the Tammi Terrell and Marvin Gaye song “Ain’t Nothing Like The Real Thing,” with Simpson getting credit for co-writing, co-producing and performing background vocals along with Ashford.

This was their third hit tune by Terrell and Gaye, who also recorded “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” and “Your Precious Love,” in 1967. The following year, they had another hit with “You’re All I Need to Get By,” which Ashford and Simpson also co-wrote, co-produced and did background vocals on.

‘Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing’ was performed by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell. Valerie Simpson co-wrote and co-produced the song along with her husband, Nickolas Ashford.

Simpson became the first Black woman to be inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 2002. Moy became the second in 2006.

Though female songwriters and producers continue the fight for inclusion in the recording studio, the doors were opened by the tenacious women of Motown. It is because of them that future generations of female creatives know what is possible.

Margena A. Christian 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. Motown’s Black women songwriters and producers were the invisible architects behind the pop music juggernaut – https://theconversation.com/motowns-black-women-songwriters-and-producers-were-the-invisible-architects-behind-the-pop-music-juggernaut-278514

May 7, 2026

Lower East Side street named for ‘King of Comics’ Jack Kirby, a nod to one of the countless kids of immigrants who shaped the genre

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Miriam Eve Mora, Managing Director of the Raoul Wallenberg Institute, University of Michigan

The Thing is from the fictional Yancy Street in Manhattan’s Lower East Side, where creator Jack Kirby was raised. Richie S/flickr, CC BY

The gesture may lack the explosive drama of a rooftop fight or the tension of a car chase, but on May 11, 2026, a street sign honoring a legendary comics creator will be unveiled in Manhattan’s Lower East Side.

After a lobbying effort by comics expert Roy Schwartz, the New York City Council in December 2025 approved the naming of a block of Essex Street between Delancey and Rivington streets in honor of Jack Kirby.

Black-and-white photo of middle-aged white man smoking a pipe. — Comic book artist Jack Kirby attends San Diego Comic Con in 1973.
Clay Geerdes/Getty Images

Kirby, born Jacob Kurtzberg in 1917 to Jewish immigrants, spent roughly the first 40 years of his life in New York, aside from a stint serving in the military during World War II. Before enlisting, he’d already embarked on a career as a comics artist. He went on to become a key figure during the medium’s golden age, a period that most scholars and fans agree began with the creation of Superman in 1938 and ended with the implementation of the Comics Code Authority in 1956, which heavily restricted content until enforcement weakened in the 1970s.

Though you may not have heard of Kirby, you’d have to deliberately avoid pop culture to miss his most influential creations: Captain America, the Fantastic Four, X-Men, Thor, Hulk, Iron Man and Black Panther.

For my part, however, as a scholar of American Jewish immigration history – and as a lifelong comic book fan – I hold a place of reverence for the man known as the “King of Comics.”

Jewish American history, immigration history, the history of New York City and the origins of the comics industry are inextricably linked. New York played a starring role in the golden age of comics. And like Kirby, many of the genre’s most famous artists were Jewish.

Jewish immigrants put pen and ink to paper

Comics found a wide audience in New York City during their early years in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, from early newspaper strips like “The Yellow Kid” and “Abie the Agent” to later ones like “Little Orphan Annie.”

As World War II drew to a close in the summer of 1945, there was a citywide newspaper delivery strike, leaving many New Yorkers desperate for news and entertainment – so much so that Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia took it upon himself to read the Sunday comic strips over the radio, performing them with characteristic vigor and enthusiasm.

Among the first publications that would today be recognizable as “comic books” were compilations of these early newspaper strips, assembled by newsprint salesman and Jewish New Yorker Max Gaines. Gaines, born Maxwell Ginzburg, compiled various comic strips into neatly packaged, inexpensive entertainment for the masses, helping pioneer the saddle-stitched comic book – thin, stapled magazines that would become the primary format for superhero stories.

As the superhero genre took off in the late 1930s, other publishers emerged from Jewish New York. Harry Donenfeld and Jack Leibowitz, in partnership with Malcolm Wheeler-Nicholson, created Detective Comics and Action Comics, which helped establish the company later known as DC Comics.

In addition to early publishers, many pioneering comics artists were raised in New York City as the children of Jewish immigrants, including Marvel Universe architect Stan Lee and his brother, Larry Lieber; Will Eisner, creator of “The Spirit” and co-creator of “Sheena: Queen of the Jungle”; and Al Jaffee, a longtime contributor to Mad Magazine.

An ode to the Lower East Side

In Jack Kirby’s comics, the city shines through.

The Fantastic Four – the superhero squad that Kirby created with Stan Lee – operates out of midtown Manhattan’s fictional Baxter Building, which Kirby modeled after the city’s mid-century skyscrapers.

Kirby also based the character of Ben Grimm – The Thing – on himself, mining his own life to write Grimm’s backstory. Grimm’s home is on the fictional Yancy Street, a tribute to Kirby’s own working-class upbringing on the Lower East Side’s Delancey Street. The thoroughfare is rich with Jewish history and in close proximity to iconic businesses like Katz’s Deli and Russ and Daughters.

Another of Kirby’s most iconic characters was Steve Rogers – Captain America – which he co-created with Joe Simon.

A poor orphan from Brooklyn, Rogers attempts to enlist in the U.S. Army to fight the Axis powers during World War II, but is rejected as unfit for duty. He is later recruited into Project Rebirth, where he is transformed into a super-soldier after being injected with a serum designed to maximize human physical and mental abilities.

Captain America attracted legions of fans among American youth, many of whom saw themselves in the superhero. Though Rogers is Christian, his story of transformation from weakling to hero certainly spoke to young Jewish boys and men, who were often inaccurately portrayed in the media and press as intellectually superior but physically inferior.

Captain America, though fictional, is already recognized as a part of New York City history, and has a statue in Brooklyn, which was unveiled in 2016 with the inscription “I’m just a kid from Brooklyn.”

The city as a muse

Even comics created by artists outside New York City – like Ohio natives and Superman co-creators Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster – are, by virtue of their content, still in many ways New York comics.

The glittering Metropolis in “Superman” is widely understood as a stand-in for New York; for example, in the April 1950 issue of Action Comics, the Statue of Liberty is said to appear in “Metropolis Harbor.”

A bronze statue of a muscular superhero who's hoisting a shield with a star on it into the air. — A Captain America statue is unveiled during a ceremony at Prospect Park in New York’s Brooklyn borough on Aug. 10, 2016, in honor of the character’s 75th anniversary.
Angela Weiss/AFP via Getty Images

If Metropolis is the bright, shining, optimistic view of the city, then Gotham, the home of Batman, reprises the city through a grittier lens.

Writer Washington Irving had first described New York as Gotham in the early 1800s. But by the time Batman came on the scene, the term had become less common in everyday speech, and DC Comics repurposed the name for the fictional Gotham City. Beyond the name, Gotham City’s architecture, bridges, boroughs and neighborhoods are an homage to New York.

By officially recognizing Jack Kirby, the city adds the artist to a distinguished roster of politicians, community activists and celebrities honored with street names.

Jack Kirby Way celebrates a legendary comics artist while also acknowledging the immigrant creators who helped shape the genre. It’s a fitting tribute: As much as the comics industry is indebted to the city, the city is indebted to the comics industry.

Miriam Eve Mora 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. Lower East Side street named for ‘King of Comics’ Jack Kirby, a nod to one of the countless kids of immigrants who shaped the genre – https://theconversation.com/lower-east-side-street-named-for-king-of-comics-jack-kirby-a-nod-to-one-of-the-countless-kids-of-immigrants-who-shaped-the-genre-279716

May 7, 2026

Can houseplants really purify the air in your home? What the science actually says

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Pedram Vousoughi, Post Doctoral Researcher in Biological Sciences, University of Limerick

The question sounds simple. The answer, once you examine the actual measurement science behind it, is more interesting than either “yes” or “no”.

The houseplant-as-air-purifier idea can be traced to a 1989 US study, conducted for Nasa as part of research into closed-loop life support systems for space stations. In sealed, controlled chambers, certain plant species reduced concentrations of volatile organic compounds (VOCs). These are chemicals that easily evaporate into the air at room temperature, including some toxic ones like benzene, trichloroethylene and formaldehyde. The science was sound. The problem is the leap from a sealed Nasa chamber to a living room. This distinction matters enormously, and it underpins almost every piece of inflated coverage about houseplants’ purifying abilities that has followed.

Most studies showing that houseplants remove pollutants share a fundamental design feature: small, sealed chambers with artificially high concentrations of pollutants introduced as a single high dose. A plant is placed inside the chamber, concentrations of pollutants are measured over time and a removal rate is calculated. This design works well for comparing plants to each other. It works poorly for predicting what happens in your home.

The critical missing variable is what building scientists call the air exchange rate. This is how quickly outdoor air naturally replaces indoor air through gaps, walls and ventilation systems. In a real building, this constant dilution is already doing the heavy lifting on pollutant concentration. When a 2019 study modelled plant performance against real-world air exchange rates, it found you would need between ten and 1,000 plants per square metre to match what a building’s passive ventilation already achieves.

So the scientifically defensible answer is: houseplants can remove some pollutants, but they are not an effective standalone air-cleaning solution for homes. That does not mean the earlier studies were “wrong”. It means their results were often overextended into everyday settings where the physics of indoor air are very different.

Woman in blue apron holding large leafy houseplant in green pot. — Can houseplants really purify the air?
Vera Prokhorova/Shutterstock

More recent reviews distinguish between potted plants and more engineered plant-based systems. Some botanical biofilters, which force air through plant-root substrates with fans, may have useful air-cleaning potential, but that is a different technology from keeping a few decorative plants on a windowsill.

Another reason the claim is often overstated is that real indoor environments are not static. Pollutants are not usually released once and then left to decline in a sealed space, as happens in many chamber experiments. In homes, emissions may be continuous or intermittent, from cooking, cleaning, furnishings, consumer products, heating and traffic pollution wafting in from outside. Temperature, humidity, the number of people at home and ventilation also change throughout the day. All of these factors affect how pollutants are emitted, diluted or deposited indoors. This makes real exposure conditions far more complex than the controlled conditions under which many plant studies are carried out.

For these reasons, the most credible public health advice remains straightforward.

First, reduce or remove the pollution source. This may involve stopping the use of products that emit fumes, such as aerosol sprays or strong chemical cleaners, and repairing building defects such as damp or leaks that promote mould growth.

Then, improve ventilation and use effective filtration. Ventilation can be improved by, for example, opening windows and doors and using kitchen and bathroom exhaust fans that vent outdoors. You can also increase the supply of outdoor air through combined heating, ventilation and air conditioning systems, which can be great for filtering air.

Portable air cleaners with high-efficiency particulate air (Hepa) filtration can help reduce airborne particles, while ventilation, such as opening windows or using exhaust fans, helps dilute indoor pollutants when outdoor air quality is acceptable. Air cleaners vary in quality, though. For everyday use, look for a model that is the right size for the room and clearly states that it uses a True Hepa filter, which means it is designed to capture at least 99.97% of very small particles.

It is also helpful if the unit has an AHAM Verifide label, which means its clean air delivery rate (CADR) has been independently tested. As a simple guide, the higher the CADR, the faster the cleaner can remove particles from the air, and the packaging will usually say what room size the unit is suitable for. Most air cleaners are designed mainly for particles such as dust, pollen, pet dander and smoke.

If you also want help with gases or odours, such as VOCs, look for a model that includes an activated carbon filter, because Hepa filters alone are mainly for particles. Packaging will usually indicate whether a unit is intended for particles, gases or both, but no air cleaner removes all pollutants.

It is also worth remembering that plants themselves require care. Overwatering and poorly maintained pots can contribute to moisture problems or microbial growth indoors. In that sense, even the benefits of indoor greenery depend on how they are managed.

Woman wearing headphones leaning back in armchair, surrounded by large houseplants — Houseplants are great for making your home a relaxing place to be.
DimaBerlin/Shutterstock

Does that mean houseplants are useless indoors? Not at all. Even if their direct air-cleaning effect is modest in real homes, plants may still offer benefits. Scientific studies suggest they can improve perceived comfort and psychological wellbeing, and in some cases slightly influence humidity or the indoor microenvironment.

Keep houseplants because you enjoy them, because they make indoor spaces more attractive and calming. They can make homes feel more pleasant, and that is a value in itself. But they should not be presented as a practical solution to serious indoor air problems.

Pedram Vousoughi receives funding from Ireland’s Department of Climate, Energy, and the Environment for funding his current work under the FORESIGHT services contract for national agriculture and land-use modeling. He has also been granted EPS-IRC funding previously.

– ref. Can houseplants really purify the air in your home?
What the science actually says – https://theconversation.com/can-houseplants-really-purify-the-air-in-your-home-what-the-science-actually-says-279690

May 7, 2026

How The Devil Wears Prada 2 speaks the hidden language of fashion

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Rebecca Scott, Senior Lecturer in Marketing and Strategy, Cardiff University

Fashion has always done more than keep us warm. It’s also a social language, quietly organising ideas of status, taste and belonging.

What made the first The Devil Wears Prada (2006) so satisfying was watching main character Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway) learn, often the hard way, that clothes were never just clothes. At first she could not read what clothes signalled in the room. By the end, she understood their language.

The Devil Wears Prada 2 picks up that idea and runs with it. Here, fashion speaks clearly about who we think we are and who we would like to become. Beneath the sharp one-liners lies something more revealing: clothing as a system of meaning.

Even the soundtrack reinforces this idea. The lyrics “I came to be seen” from the song Runway by Lady Gaga and Doechii, which plays during the film’s credits, underscore how visibility operates as a form of social currency.

Anthropologist Grant McCracken argued that consumer goods carry cultural meaning that moves through society in stages. First, meanings sit in a wider cultural pool, shaped by ideas such as success, taste and aspiration. Second, they are picked up and repackaged by intermediaries such as editors, influencers and tastemakers. Third, they land with consumers, who use them to construct identity.

The Devil Wears Prada 2 is a glossy study of change, where identity is constantly renegotiated as the characters grapple with meanings associated with power, roles and friendship. In this world, gatekeepers like Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep) still decide what counts as “in” before the rest of us have even chosen our socks.

According to McCracken, cultural meaning moves from the cultural world and filters down to consumer goods where individual identity is finally established. Stanley Tucci’s Nigel remarks about Andy: “Look what TJ Maxx dragged in.” This does more than insult. It assigns her a position – misplaced, off-cycle, adjacent to luxury, marking her as uninitiated in a language she no longer speaks.

By contrast, in the archives of Christian Dior, the meaning system is made explicit by Emily (Emily Blunt): “Your bag, your scarf, your umbrella, tells the world who you are.” It suggests that in this world, even the smallest detail signals position, functioning as a micro-indicator of taste, knowledge and class alignment.

Loud signals and quiet codes

The sequel contrasts different strategies of self-presentation. Emily treats fashion as spectacle. Her outfits do not enter a room, but announce themselves to the room. Her black leather harness dress at a funeral is not a misstep, but a bold reminder that even in mourning, style can still speak with conviction.

By contrast, Nigel embodies what has come to be known as “quiet luxury”. His wardrobe is precise, restrained and almost invisible unless you know exactly what to look for. Meaning does not shout. It whispers. This reflects a broader shift in consumer culture.

People have long used possessions to communicate identity, but the codes evolve. In a world saturated with visibility, subtlety has become its own form of distinction. Knowing not to show off is, in itself, a way of showing off. The film captures this tension with a knowing wink. One character dresses to be seen while another dresses to be understood. Both are playing the same game.

At its core, the film is less about fashion than meaning. Clothing becomes a way of signalling trajectory: who is rising, who is stalling, who is quietly consolidating power. This is seen in Andy’s gradual shift from ill-fitting outsider to someone increasingly fluent in the visual language of the industry.

Consumer research suggests that we do not buy things just for what they are, but for what they mean. Clothing bridges the gap between who we are and who we hope to be. Getting dressed, in this sense, is a daily act of storytelling, sometimes optimistic, sometimes aspirational, occasionally delusional. The Devil Wears Prada 2 explains this through humour and self-awareness. The audience laughs at the excess, but not entirely from a distance.

The final trailer for The Devil Wears Prada 2.

From culture to closet and back again

By the time these meanings reach everyday life, the final step in McCracken’s model, they are no longer controlled by Miranda or the fashion elite. They are taken up, adapted and sometimes resisted by individual consumers. This is where meaning becomes personal.

The Devil Wears Prada 2 may be a comedy, but it makes a sharper point. Getting dressed is never just about clothes. It is about navigating a world of symbols and deciding how, or whether, to play along. The real question is not whether fashion matters, but whether we understand the meanings stitched into what we wear, and the quiet ways they shape our sense of who we are and who we might yet become.

In a more tender scene, Andy’s love interest takes in her blue sequin dress and says: “It’s a lot. But I like a lot.” The moment points to a broader insight: when fashion aligns with a sense of self, it shifts from excess to expression, becoming a quiet way of being seen not for what we display, but for who we are.

Rebecca Scott 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. How The Devil Wears Prada 2 speaks the hidden language of fashion – https://theconversation.com/how-the-devil-wears-prada-2-speaks-the-hidden-language-of-fashion-281790

May 7, 2026

Why supplements aren’t a shortcut to healthy ageing

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Miguel G. Borda, Consultant in Geriatric Medicine, Department of Neurology, Universidad de Navarra

The use of dietary supplements has increased sharply in recent years. Vitamins, minerals and other nutritional products are often marketed as simple ways to boost energy, support immunity, protect brain health or even promote longevity. For many people, taking supplements can feel like a sensible, proactive health habit.

But this perception can be misleading. For people who already have adequate nutrition, many supplements offer little or no measurable benefit. Some are simply an unnecessary expense. Others are not risk-free: high doses of certain vitamins and minerals can cause toxicity, interfere with medications or produce unintended health effects.

For older adults, however, the picture is more complicated. The most useful question is not simply whether supplements are “good” or “bad”, but whether someone is actually deficient, what might be causing that deficiency and whether a supplement is the safest way to address it.

Nutritional deficiencies become more common with age. Appetite may decrease, oral health can worsen, chronic illnesses become more common and many older people take medicines that affect how nutrients are absorbed, used or cleared from the body. Oral health problems, including tooth loss, gum disease and poorly fitting dentures, can also make chewing difficult and reduce dietary variety.

Later life is often surrounded by unhelpful food messages: eat less, lose weight, avoid “heavy” meals, stick to soft foods. But these messages can collide with the body’s continuing need for protein, vitamins and minerals. Over time, small meals, soups, toast and tea can become a diet that fills the stomach without meeting nutritional needs.

This does not mean every older person needs supplements. It means supplementation should be targeted: based on confirmed deficiencies, clear risk factors, medication use or evidence that someone is not getting enough from food.

Vitamin B12 is one of the clearest examples. B12 deficiency becomes more common with age, partly because the stomach may produce less acid, which is needed to release B12 from food. Low B12 can cause anaemia, fatigue, nerve problems, numbness or tingling, and sometimes memory problems or confusion. Certain medicines, including metformin and proton pump inhibitors, can increase the risk further. High-dose oral B12 often works well, although some people need injections.

Folate is also important, especially for red blood cell formation and DNA production. Low folate can raise homocysteine, a blood marker that has been associated with cardiovascular disease and cognitive decline, though this does not prove that folate supplements prevent either. Folate or other B vitamins may help selected groups, such as people with low folate or B12 status, raised homocysteine or mild cognitive impairment. But B12 deficiency should be considered before folate is prescribed on its own, because folate can improve some blood signs of B12 deficiency while nerve damage continues.

Vitamin D is another common concern. Deficiency is more likely in older adults with limited sun exposure, reduced mobility, darker skin, care-home residence or diets low in vitamin D-rich foods. Supplementation may be appropriate when levels are low, sun exposure is limited, or someone has osteoporosis, recurrent falls or high fracture risk. But more is not automatically better. A large trial found that vitamin D supplementation did not significantly reduce fracture risk in generally healthy midlife and older adults who were not selected for deficiency.

Calcium and magnesium matter for bone, muscle and nerve function, but where possible they should come from food. Supplements may be useful when dietary intake is insufficient or osteoporosis is present, but excessive intake should be avoided. Magnesium is often promoted for sleep, but evidence for routine use as an insomnia treatment remains limited.

Multivitamins can be useful for older adults who eat very little or have poor dietary variety, but they should not be treated as nutritional insurance for everyone. In a large study of three US cohorts, daily multivitamin use was not associated with a lower risk of death. Other research is exploring whether multivitamins may affect markers of biological ageing, but it remains unclear whether this translates into better health, independence or lifespan.

One of the most overlooked “supplements” in later life is not a vitamin at all, but protein. Many older adults eat too little protein or avoid protein-rich foods such as meat, fish, eggs, dairy, beans or lentils. Low intake can contribute to sarcopenia, the age-related loss of muscle mass and strength, increasing the risk of falls, frailty and loss of independence. Expert groups commonly recommend around 1.0 to 1.2 grams of protein per kilogram of body weight per day for healthy older adults. Higher intakes are sometimes needed during illness, frailty or recovery, unless someone has been advised to restrict protein because of kidney disease or another condition.

Unsupervised or excessive supplementation can be harmful. High doses of vitamin D or vitamin A can cause toxicity. Iron should not be taken without confirmed deficiency unless advised by a healthcare professional. Some supplements interact with medicines. And evidence reviews have found that some high-dose antioxidant supplements, particularly beta-carotene and vitamin E, may increase mortality risk in some populations.

A sensible approach begins with food, not pills. That means looking at appetite, weight change, chewing or swallowing problems, dietary variety, medical conditions, medication use and whether someone has enough support to shop, cook and eat well. Blood tests may be needed, particularly for vitamin B12, folate, iron and vitamin D.

Evidence does not support universal supplementation for all older adults. But targeted use of vitamin D, vitamin B12, folate and, in some cases, a multivitamin or protein supplement can help when deficiencies or low intake are present.

Supplements can have a role in healthy ageing, but they are not a shortcut. The foundations are still balanced nutrition, strength exercise, adequate sleep, social connection and access to good food. The best supplement is the one that answers a real need, not the one with the loudest promise on the label.

Miguel G. Borda receives funding from Nasjonalforeningen for folkehelsen (Norwegian Health Association)

George E. Barreto receives funding from Research Ireland

– ref. Why supplements aren’t a shortcut to healthy ageing – https://theconversation.com/why-supplements-arent-a-shortcut-to-healthy-ageing-277291

May 7, 2026

China’s ability to weather Trump’s trade war was two decades in the making

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Gemma Ware, Host, The Conversation Weekly Podcast, The Conversation

As Xi Jinping prepares to host Donald Trump for a delayed summit in Beijing on May 14-15, a lot has changed since the US president’s last visit to China in November 2017. Trump’s first trade war with China began in earnest the following year, ushering in a new era of trade tensions between the world’s two largest economies.

Trump will travel to Beijing in the wake of a US Supreme Court ruling in February that struck down his “Liberation Day” tariffs. The Trump administration responded by imposing a 10% universal tariff on all goods coming into the US, but it’s time limited to 150 days under US law and will expire on July 24. Since the ruling, both China and the US have also launched investigations into each other’s trade practices.

Before the Supreme Court ruling, the effective tariff rate on Chinese goods into the US was 47%. Now, researchers at Yale put the effective tariff rate at between 19-24%. The range reflects different scenarios for what might happen after July, and factors in tariffs on other goods, such as steel, aluminium and copper, not covered by the ruling.

And yet, amid all the tit-for-tat on tariffs, China reported a record trade surplus in 2025 of US$1.2 trillion. How did it manage it?

In this episode of The Conversation Weekly podcast, we speak to economist Jiao Wang at the University of Sussex, about how decisions China took over the past two decades, meant it was able to protect itself from the worst of Trump’s trade wars.

Wang explains that while the direct trade between the US and China fell sharply in 2025, “it was more than compensated by the increase in trade to other part of the world. We already observed this great reallocation in the first trade war, and then in the second trade war, the conclusion is it becomes even more prominent.”

She traces the history of this great reallocation to understand what moves China made to decouple its economy from the west, and the strategy its now pursuing on global trade.

Listen to the interview with Jiao Wang on The Conversation Weekly podcast.

This episode of The Conversation Weekly was written and produced by Mend Mariwany and the executive producer was Gemma Ware. Mixing by Eleanor Brezzi and theme music by Neeta Sarl.

Newsclips in this episode from AP Archive, WSBTTV News, Max Media Asia, Al Jazeera English, CN A, BB C News, CNBC Television, DW News, France 24 English, CNN, Global News and NBC News.

Listen to The Conversation Weekly via any of the apps listed above, download it directly via our RSS feed or find out how else to listen here. A transcript of this episode is available via the Apple Podcasts or Spotify apps.

Jiao Wang 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. China’s ability to weather Trump’s trade war was two decades in the making – https://theconversation.com/chinas-ability-to-weather-trumps-trade-war-was-two-decades-in-the-making-282199

May 7, 2026

Ultra-processed food: why the debate needs less fear and more clarity

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Beverley O’Hara, Lecturer in Public Health Nutrition, Leeds Beckett University

Highly moralised food messaging may encourage disordered eating patterns. superbeststock/Shutterstock

For many people interested in health and wellbeing, the idea of ultra-processed food, or UPF, has become more than a technical term in nutrition research. In public debate, it often serves as shorthand for wider concerns about modern, industrially produced food.

Those concerns are not baseless. A large body of research has found associations between high UPF intake and poorer health outcomes. But the evidence is not always easy to interpret. Many studies rely on self-reported diets and struggle to separate the effects of processing from nutrient quality, eating patterns and wider social factors. The evidence points to real problems, but also to the need for more careful use of the term.

In the US, the Food and Drug Administration and the Department of Agriculture began a formal process in 2025 to develop a uniform federal definition of ultra-processed foods, arguing that no single authoritative definition exists for the US food supply. The central question is: what exactly makes a food “ultra-processed”? Is it the ingredients it contains, the way it is made, the extent to which it has been altered from its original structure, or some combination of these?

This helps explain why the topic has become so divisive. Within nutrition research, there is no consensus on how far the UPF category should guide policy or individual dietary advice. Some researchers see it as an important way of identifying harmful patterns in modern diets. Others argue that it is too broad to serve as a sound basis for dietary guidance on its own.

That distinction is important. A category can be useful for tracking population diets while still being too blunt to tell an individual whether a particular product belongs in their shopping basket, especially when it tries to capture ingredients, industrial processes, product formulation, marketing, palatability and dietary patterns within one category.

There are also valid concerns about the role of large food companies in shaping diets and public health. Many highly processed products are designed to be cheap, convenient, heavily marketed and easy to overconsume. But the political and commercial problems of the food system are not identical to the scientific problem of classification.

A better approach would distinguish more clearly between products that are ultra-processed and nutritionally poor, products that are ultra-processed but may still have a useful place in the diet, and minimally processed foods that people are encouraged to eat more of. This might include some fortified foods, high-fibre breads or medical nutrition products, depending on their composition and use.

One way to balance warnings about UPFs is to give more attention to positive dietary guidance. In the EAT-UP framework, I propose the term “unrefined plant foods”, or UPs, to describe plant foods whose natural structure remains largely intact. These include whole fruits, vegetables, beans and grains that have not been heavily broken down or reconstituted.

This is not a replacement for the UPF framework. Its main value may be communicative: it balances advice about what to limit with clearer guidance on what to add. Many dietary guidelines already encourage people to eat more fruit, vegetables, legumes and whole grains. Naming these foods more precisely may help make that advice clearer.

Like any food category, unrefined plant foods would need careful definition. The phrase “largely intact” is not self-explanatory, and different researchers, policymakers and consumers may draw the boundary differently. But the value of the concept lies in shifting part of the public health message from avoidance to addition.

Advice based only on avoidance can easily become confusing or punitive. Evidence that higher intakes of whole plant foods are linked with better health also has limitations, including food diaries, self-reporting, cohort studies and the difficulty of separating diet from wider lifestyle factors. Even so, fruit, vegetables, legumes and whole grains are consistently supported across dietary guidelines, public health research and long-standing evidence on diet quality.

These debates also shape how people understand food in everyday life. Dietary advice should avoid creating unnecessary fear around food. When processing is treated as inherently dangerous, the result can be confusion, guilt and anxiety rather than healthier behaviour. In some cases, highly moralised food messaging may even encourage disordered eating patterns, including an unhealthy fixation on foods perceived to be perfectly pure or healthy.

This is also why language needs care. Phrases such as “real food” are often used to mean foods that are minimally processed or close to their original form. But the phrase can also carry assumptions about what counts as proper eating and who is getting it wrong. Public health messages need to take account of differences in income, time, access and daily constraints.

Improving diets requires more than labelling a broad category of foods as harmful. It requires careful consideration of evidence, behaviour and context. The challenge is to produce advice that is scientifically sound, practical to follow and responsive to the real conditions in which people make food choices.

The UPF debate has rightly placed industrial diets and food quality at the centre of public health discussion. The next step is not to abandon the framework, but to improve it: to define categories more clearly, distinguish between different kinds of processing, and combine warnings about harmful products with practical advice about the foods people can eat more of. In practice, that means combining processing-based classifications with evidence about nutrient profile, fibre content, additives, marketing and the role a food plays in the overall diet.

Beverley O’Hara 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. Ultra-processed food: why the debate needs less fear and more clarity – https://theconversation.com/ultra-processed-food-why-the-debate-needs-less-fear-and-more-clarity-278060

May 7, 2026

Kokuho is Japan’s highest ever grossing live-action film – a lavish kabuki epic about talent, lineage and sacrifice

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Alan Cummings, Senior Lecturer in Japanese Studies, SOAS, University of London

Kokuho is a colourful, lengthy epic, spanning five decades and running almost three hours, set in the world of kabuki – Japan’s most popular traditional performing art. It has been a huge hit in Japan, becoming the country’s highest ever grossing live-action film.

The film’s title translates as “national treasure”. But it does not refer to tangible treasures like Buddhist temples, tea bowls, or imperial calligraphy. Instead, it refers to ningen kokuho – “living national treasures”. It’s the popular term for people recognised by the Japanese state as embodying a traditional art or craft.

Honourees run the gamut from potters, dyers and swordsmiths to lacquerware makers. But it is the kokuho from the traditional theatrical genres, especially kabuki, that most strongly capture the public’s imagination. Only a handful of kabuki actors in each generation ever make it to this rarefied height of official recognition. In Japan today there are just six of them.

The film traces the career of Kikuo (played as an adult by Ryo Yoshizawa), the orphaned son of a Hiroshima gangster. We follow Kikuo as he first enters the world of kabuki in the late 1940s, trains as an onnagata (a male actor who specialises in female roles) under the uncompromising guidance of a famous Osaka actor Hanjiro (Ken Watanabe), wins then loses the friendship of Hanjiro’s son Shunsuke (Ryusei Yokohama) and finally ascends to the rank of kokuho in the 1980s.

Professional kabuki is a tight-knit and all-male world of family connections. Actors pass down their hereditary stage names to their sons (the professional world has been male-only since the early 1600s) and successful outsiders are vanishingly rare. So Kokuho’s central question is far more culturally specific than other A Star is Born-esque narratives. Namely, what makes a star kabuki actor – hard work or blood?

The trailer for Kokuho.

Where the film truly shines is in its understanding and rich evocation of kabuki’s offstage and backstage life.

Training is strict and fearsome. This is captured convincingly in scenes of the teenage Kikuo and Shunsuke stripped to the waist, sweating buckets in the summer practice room. They repeat sequences of dance movements over and over until they can internalise them to Hanjiro’s satisfaction.

Real kabuki actors are trained by their families and appear on stage regularly from five or six years of age, slowly moving up through minor to starring roles. They truly grow up on stage, under the initially tolerant then later increasingly expectant eyes of audiences who grow old with them.

Kabuki has survived as a commercial theatre for over 400 years and its impresarios remain in constant need of handsome actors whose image can be fanned and manipulated to attract a new generation of fans into the theatres. Kabuki, therefore, frequently forces promising young actors into roles and new hereditary names before they are quite ready for them. It’s a reality that Kokuho neatly captures. Shunsuke finds Kikuo backstage, about to play a starring female dramatic role for the first time and trembling with anxiety, unable to do his own makeup. Kikuo begs Shunsuke for a cup of his blood to drink, terrified that his years of hard training may not be enough.

The film does an excellent job of convincing us that Kikuo has indeed become a great actor. The onstage scenes, shot in a variety of lights by Tunisian cinematographer Sofian El Fani (Blue is the Warmest Colour, Timbuktu) look ravishing, drawing upon the vibrant colours of costume and set that are kabuki’s trademarks.

The plays chosen for these scenes have been carefully selected from the historical repertoire. With one notable exception of a love suicide play, they are spectacular dance pieces that permit an emphasis on kabuki’s vivid visual and aural palettes, and the stunning onstage hikinuki costume changes where the threads on an outer kimono are cut and it is suddenly whipped away by stage assistants to reveal a contrasting garment beneath. These choices also allow for lots of rapid cuts that go a long way to disguise the fact that Yoshizawa had only 18 months of kabuki training, instead of 25 years, before filming began.

The film’s attempt to answer its central question of blood or art is nuanced. Interestingly, for a film about an onnagata, it steers coyly clear of any problematic questions about sexual or gender identity. The only hint of that comes in the brief but memorably scenes with the older onnagata, Mangiku (played by butoh dancer Min Tanaka).

Tanaka brings an acidic taste of threat to his role, speaking directly to the “fearsome, negative narcissism” that Yukio Mishima saw in Utaemon Nakamura VI, the greatest onnagata of the mid 20th century. What we are given instead is the deeply ambivalent sense of self that Yoshizawa brings to Kikuo, untouched by lost loves, abandoned children, ailing friends and even the bloody death of his yakuza father.

The conclusion we are guided to is that his traumatised blankness is the true source of his art. This suggestion reaches its culmination in the film’s final dance sequence, where the spirit of a heron, embodied first as a young then later an older woman, whirls alone at night amid thickly falling theatrical paper snow. For Kikuo, the creation of identity through a concentrated evocation of beauty in performance is abundantly clear. Quite what message Japan’s film-goers have taken from it is much harder to parse.

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, The Conversation UK may earn a commission.

Alan Cummings 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. Kokuho is Japan’s highest ever grossing live-action film – a lavish kabuki epic about talent, lineage and sacrifice – https://theconversation.com/kokuho-is-japans-highest-ever-grossing-live-action-film-a-lavish-kabuki-epic-about-talent-lineage-and-sacrifice-282285

May 7, 2026

The American Revolution’s triumphant story of democracy and freedom overlooks loyalists who paid a steep price for allegiance to Britain

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Kimberly Nath, Dean of the School of Arts and Humanities, San Juan College

The announcement of the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776, in Philadelphia. Hulton Archive via Getty Images

On the eve of the American Revolution, Matthias Aspden made a decision that would change the trajectory of his life. A wealthy merchant from Philadelphia, Aspden carefully prepared to leave his home in March 1776 as rumors of revolution circulated. He drafted a will and appointed trusted friends to manage his property while he traveled to England.

As a loyalist, someone who wanted to remain loyal to the crown and the British empire, Aspden believed the war would be brief. Historians estimate that at the beginning of the war as many as one-third of all American colonists identified as loyalists. Aspden believed his departure would be temporary. Order, he assumed, would soon be restored, and he would permanently return within a few years.

But that wasn’t the case.

The American Revolution is often told as a triumphant story of democracy and freedom. But this narrative leaves out a significant group: the loyalist men and women who remained faithful to Britain and, as a result, lost their homes, property and sometimes their sense of belonging.

As a historian of the American Revolution who studies Philadelphia loyalists, I believe Aspden’s story offers a glimpse into an overlooked experience of the war.

A wealthy Philly merchant exiled in England

Born and raised in Philadelphia, Aspden was not a marginal figure. He was a Quaker merchant with extensive property holdings, including a home on Water Street, in what is now the Old City neighborhood, and land in Chester County outside Philadelphia.

When he left in 1776, he abandoned nearly everything he owned, believing he would return. As others celebrated independence that summer, Aspden quietly slipped away to London.

Black text on white page — A letter written by Matthias Aspden from London in 1779.
Yale University

In England, reality set in. Exile was not just physical; it was deeply social and emotional. In Philadelphia, Aspden had been established. In London, he was one of tens of thousands of displaced loyalists trying to rebuild a life. He gravitated toward communities of fellow exiles. These networks offered some stability, but they could not replace what he had left behind.

Aspden’s letters to friends and family from this period reveal a man caught between hope and anxiety. He followed news from Philadelphia obsessively, requesting newspapers and updates from friends and business contacts. At one point, he described himself as “an idle man until I can return to America.” His words suggest both longing and uncertainty, as if his life were on pause.

By 1780, that uncertainty turned into fear.

A ‘traitor’ trying to come back home

Aspden began hearing about laws in Pennsylvania aimed at confiscating loyalist property. These laws required individuals accused of treason to appear in court and defend themselves. Aspden, still in England, could not do so. As a result, he was tried in absentia, declared a traitor and subjected to the state’s harshest penalties.

The consequences were devastating. In 1782, Aspden learned that all of his property had been confiscated and would be sold to aid the patriots in the American Revolution. An official commissioner of confiscation seized his Philadelphia home and wharf, which were worth thousands of pounds, along with his land in Chester County. Aspden, facing financial ruin, decided to return to Philadelphia to defend his name and his property.

In 1785, after nearly a decade abroad and with the war over, he crossed the Atlantic, hoping the new United States would restore his property under the terms of the peace treaty with Britain. Instead, he was met with rejection.

Pennsylvania officials informed him that individuals in his position were not protected. He had no legal claim to his property and, more shockingly, no rights as a citizen. While the peace treaty prevented further confiscation of loyalist property, his property was not restored.

The message was clear: Philadelphia was no longer his home.

Rows of two-story, red-brick homes on cobblestone street — Matthias Aspden longed to return to his life in Philadelphia.
Brian Logan/iStock via Getty Images Plus

One last trip to Philadelphia

Aspden left again, traveling through New Jersey and New York before securing passage back to England. Reflecting on his departure, he wrote of the pain of being forced from his “native country.” His brief return confirmed what he had feared. He had no home.

In the years that followed, Aspden sought compensation wherever he could. The American government offered nothing, so he turned to Britain. The Loyalist Claims Commission, established to reimburse those who had lost property during the war, eventually awarded him just over 1,100 pounds, a fraction of his estimated losses.

Aspden made one final visit to America in the early 1790s. By then, he had received a legal pardon and could travel without fear of arrest. But he still could not recover his property or successfully pursue compensation in American courts. Once again, he left – this time for good.

Black and white illustration of line of children in colonial dress waving to soldiers — About a third of American colonists were loyal to the British Crown during the American Revolution.
H A Ogden/Frederick A Stokes Company via Getty Images

Heirs recover his fortune

Aspden died in England in 1824, having spent nearly 50 years in exile from the city he always considered home.

Decades after his death, his heirs pursued a legal claim in the United States against Pennsylvania, arguing that his estate had been unjustly seized. After years of litigation, the court ruled in their favor in 1848, awarding them over a half-million dollars – approximately US$20 million today. It was a remarkable reversal, but Aspden never saw justice.

His life raises difficult questions about loyalty, identity and belonging. Aspden did not see himself as disloyal to Philadelphia. To him, loyalty to the British Crown and loyalty to home were not opposites.

His story reminds us that the Revolution was not just a fight for independence. It was also a civil conflict that divided communities and reshaped lives. For every celebrated patriot, there were loyalists like Aspden and others who lost so much during the American Revolution.

Read more of our stories about Philadelphia, or sign up for our Philadelphia newsletter on Substack.

Kimberly Nath 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. The American Revolution’s triumphant story of democracy and freedom overlooks loyalists who paid a steep price for allegiance to Britain – https://theconversation.com/the-american-revolutions-triumphant-story-of-democracy-and-freedom-overlooks-loyalists-who-paid-a-steep-price-for-allegiance-to-britain-280421