Category: English

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Nathan MacDonald, Professor of the Interpretation of the Old Testament, University of Cambridge

Five hundred years ago the first Bible featuring a map was published. The anniversary has passed uncelebrated, but it transformed the way that Bibles were produced. The map appeared in Christopher Froschauer’s 1525 Old Testament, which was published in Zürich and widely distributed in 16th-century central Europe.

Yet despite being a groundbreaking moment in the Bible’s history, the initial attempt was hardly a triumph.

It is flipped along the north-south axis (meaning it’s back to front). As a result, the Mediterranean appears to the east of Palestine, rather than to the west. It illustrates how little many in Europe knew about the Middle East that such a map could have been published without anyone in the printer’s workshop questioning it.

The map had originally been drawn about a decade earlier by the celebrated Renaissance painter and printmaker Lukas Cranach the Elder, based in Wittenberg in latterday Germany. Written in Latin, it shows Palestine with various important holy sites such as Jerusalem and Bethlehem. At the bottom, you can see the mountains of Sinai and the path taken by the Israelites as they escaped slavery in Egypt.

Look closely and you can see the Israelites and their tents, plus various vignettes of the events on their journey. The landscape is more European than Middle Eastern, though, reflecting the printmakers’ ignorance of this region. There are walled towns with numerous trees and, in contrast with reality, the Jordan meanders rather more dramatically towards the Dead Sea, and the coastline has more bays and coves.

In the previous century, Europeans had rediscovered the second-century Greco-Roman geographer Ptolemy, and with him the art of making accurate maps that used latitude and longitude (insofar as longitude could be estimated at that time – it greatly improved in later centuries). With the advent of printing, Ptolemy’s Cosmographia had taken Europe by storm. His scientific treatise on geography was published and his maps of the ancient world reproduced.

Printers soon discovered, however, that purchasers desired contemporary maps. Soon new maps of France, Spain and Scandinavia were published. To our eyes these are truly modern. North is at the top of the page and the locations of cities, rivers and coastlines are presented highly accurately.

These maps rapidly replaced medieval mapping with its symbolic approach to the world, such as the famous Hereford mappa mundi of the known world circa 1300, where it was more about conveying cultural or religious meaning than geographical accuracy. Except, that is, in one case: Palestine.

The early modern printers of Ptolemy also gave their readers a “modern map of the Holy Land” that was nothing of the sort. It was a medieval map produced not by using latitude and longitude, but using a grid to measure distances between different locations. It was orientated with the east at the top of the page and the west at the bottom. It portrayed the holy sites of Christianity and divided the land of Palestine into tribal territories.

Cranach’s map blends these two types of maps. At its top and bottom edges it has lines of meridian, but the coastline is slanted so that the entire map is orientated with the north-east at the top of the page.

It is as though Cranach couldn’t quite decide what type of map to create. Its portrayal is realistic and modern, but the map is full of symbolic geography: as your eye passes over, you journey with the Israelites from Egyptian bondage to the promised land, with all its resonant locations, such as Mount Carmel, Nazareth, the River Jordan and Jericho.

Perceptions of Palestine

The map was characteristic of Europe’s lack of interest in Palestine, then part of the Ottoman empire. What European book buyers cared for was the strange hybrid space that is the “Holy Land”: somewhere that was in our world, but also not part of it.

The towns the map portrayed were those that had flourished two millennia earlier, which for Christians were in some sense more real. They were part of the imaginative space described in their churches and scriptures.

That curious juxtaposition of ancient and modern was particularly consequential when it came to the mapping of Palestine into 12 tribal territories. The 12 tribes that descended from Jacob symbolised Christianity’s claim as true heir of Israel and its holy sites, and also what the holy sites represented: the inheritance of the heavenly Jerusalem. Lines on the map communicated the eternal promises of God.

But in the early modern period, lines began to be used to mark the borders between sovereign states. The maps of the Holy Land, neatly divided amongst the Israelite tribes, set the agenda for cartographers. As the 16th century went on, more and more maps in atlases divided the world among distinct nations with clearly defined borders.

The fact that a map divided into territories appeared in the Bible gave apparently religious authorisation for a world full of borders. Lines that had once symbolised the boundless divine promises now communicated the limits of political sovereignties.

Within Bibles themselves, maps had arrived for good. The following years saw printers experiment with various configurations, but eventually they were to settle on four maps: one of the wilderness wanderings of the Israelites, one of the territories of the 12 tribes, one of Palestine at the time of Jesus, and one of the apostle Paul’s missionary journeys.

There is a pleasing symmetry: two maps for the Old Testament, two for the New Testament. But also, two maps of journeys and two maps of the Holy Land. Such symmetries communicated the connections between events: the Old Testament was fulfilled in the New Testament, and Judaism in Christianity.

The first map in a Bible is therefore a fascinating moment in history, but a troubling one. It transformed the Bible into something like a Renaissance atlas, but deeply embedded in assumptions about Christian superiority: the Holy Land of Christian imagination displacing contemporary Palestine, and Christianity superseding Judaism.

It was also one of the agents in creating the modern world of distinct nation states. In many ways, we’ve been living with the consequences ever since.

Nathan MacDonald 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 first Bible to include a map helped spread the idea of countries with borders – https://theconversation.com/how-the-first-bible-to-include-a-map-helped-spread-the-idea-of-countries-with-borders-270901

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Siavash Alimadadi, Research Associate at the Centre for Sustainable Business, King’s College London

While the UK needs to accelerate its energy transition, targets are being missed, projects run into delays, and the public wonders why progress feels so slow. The temptation is to blame politics, funding or technology. Yet there is a deeper reason the road to net zero keeps stalling.

Everything in our modern life, from our roads to our factories, have been built around readily available fossil fuels. As a result, we expect things to happen quickly, to last indefinitely and to disappear without consequence.

Why this expectation? Burning coal, oil and gas taps carbon and sunlight that were locked away over millions of years and releases that energy in a matter of decades. That compression of deep time (the vast geological timescales of Earth’s history) into human time gives the impression that highways, buildings and plastics can be produced at speed and endure without limits. Through burning fossil fuels, millions of years worth of stored sunlight and energy can be transformed into concrete, plastics and electricity in a matter of hours.

When we talk about decarbonisation, we are not just changing fuels. We are being asked to change this entire pace of living.

Fossil fuels made energy cheap and abundant, and so our economies were organised around speed. We learned to pour concrete and we assumed it would stand for decades. We built factories that ran day and night and supply chains that delivered instantly. Convenience became normal.

In this context, it makes sense that governments promise to “accelerate” the green transition. The problem is that the very systems we are trying to fix still run on the rhythms of the fossil era. They are not designed to slow down or pivot quickly.

Read more:
Five ways to improve net zero action – our new research highlights lessons from the past

The North Sea’s recent “tieback” oil licences help show what is really happening.

The UK government’s new North Sea strategy is a case in point. The introduction of “transitional energy certificates” or “tiebacks” allow new drilling on or near existing fields. So while the UK has committed to banning all new oil and gas licences, some new fossil fuel extraction is still permitted.

Instead of marking a clean break from fossil fuels, they extend existing infrastructure by linking smaller oil fields to older platforms. This approach is faster and cheaper than starting new projects. On the surface, it looks like progress. But it keeps the old system going rather than rethinking it.

This logic shows up in how we build, too. Concrete is a telling example. In 2025 the UK announced its first carbon capture retrofit for a cement plant in Padeswood, North Wales. This so-called “net zero” cement factory will trap around 800,000 tonnes of carbon dioxide each year and start producing low-carbon cement in 2029.

This is a major technical step forward. Yet the retrofit does not change how cement is made. It simply adds a filter to an existing process that heats ancient limestone to very high temperatures. It still relies on the idea that we can turn geological time into buildings in hours and have them endure for centuries.

The four-year retrofit shows how slow it is to adapt a single plant, but the real lesson is that governments, industries and societies are investing heavily to keep the same rapid tempo of construction, rather than imagining different materials or building practices.

The electricity grid reveals a similar mismatch. For years Britain’s electricity network connected projects on a first come, first served basis. This model assumed a steady trickle of large fossil fuel plants. The surge of renewables has overwhelmed it.

By late 2025 there were more than 700 gigawatts of generation and demand projects waiting in the queue – over four times the capacity needed to meet the government’s 2030 clean power target. Some developers have been waiting a decade for a connection. The backlog exists not because there is a shortage of projects, but because the system was never designed to handle so many small, decentralised schemes.

Regulators are now reforming the queue to prioritise “shovel-ready” projects. That is a necessary fix, but it is also an admission that our assumptions of endless, rapid growth have outpaced the physical network we built.

These examples reveal a deeper pattern. We are not only managing emissions or upgrading technology. We are holding on to the pace and habits shaped by the fossil era. The green transition often involves making the old system more efficient, rather than asking what a truly different future would require.

Many also expect this transition to be as quick and frictionless as the fossil fuel era made everything seem. Yet decarbonising means reworking industries and infrastructure that took decades to build.

Cement plants last half a century. Power lines take years to plan and construct. Even the most optimistic timelines involve years of design, consultation and construction. This is not a failure; it is the reality of shifting away from a system designed for speed and permanence without patience.

Resetting the clock

Recognising this mismatch does not mean giving up on urgency. Climate change demands swift action. But urgency is not the same as haste. Instead of expecting every solution to scale overnight, we need to design policies and industries in a way that respects how long things take, and, indeed, whose timing counts.

For example, do policies align with corporate investment cycles, election calendars or the slower timelines of ecosystems and future generations? Whose timeframes shape action?

Building a low-carbon economy will not feel like the rapid transformations of the past. It will involve repairing, adapting and sometimes slowing down. But if we want to move beyond fossil fuels, we cannot keep living on fossil time. A successful transition will be one that aligns our policies, industries and daily lives with the slower, more regenerative rhythms of the world we depend on.

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Jonatan Pinkse receives funding from the ESRC – The Productivity Institute.

Siavash Alimadadi 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. Green transition targets are not realistic – how to decarbonise at the right pace – https://theconversation.com/green-transition-targets-are-not-realistic-how-to-decarbonise-at-the-right-pace-270720

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Jung Woo Lee, Senior Lecturer in Sport and Leisure Policy, University of Edinburgh

North Korea cemented its status as one of the dominant forces in women’s youth football in early November, defeating the Netherlands 3-0 in the under-17 World Cup final. They returned from the tournament victorious for a record extending fourth time, having won the past two titles.

The North Koreans also won awards for the tournament’s best and second-best overall players. These trophies went to North Korea’s forward, Yu Jong-hyang, and her teammate, Kim Won-sim, respectively. The success of North Korea’s young footballers is the product of a broader strategy aimed at strengthening national pride and boosting the country’s international standing.

It is perhaps no great surprise that North Korea, which is nominally under communist rule, was an early adopter of women’s football. Socialist ideology generally encourages women to take part in sport, seeing it as a means of achieving gender equality and promoting national strength.

In the late 1980s, when football’s global governing body Fifa was planning to launch women’s competitions, North Korea’s leaders promptly introduced football development programmes for women. This included incorporating football training for girls into the school curriculum and creating women’s football teams in the army, which allowed players to train and develop full-time at the state’s expense.

This approach soon began to pay off. From the 1990s to the early 2010s, North Korea consistently had one of the best senior national women’s football teams in Asia. North Korea won several Asian Cup titles before a major doping scandal involving five national-team players in 2011 put the breaks on this success.

North Korea was banned from the 2015 women’s World Cup and failed to qualify four years later. The country then went into a period of isolation during the pandemic, which prevented it from participating in the 2023 World Cup.

The North Korean women’s youth sides, meanwhile, have continuously shown footballing prowess on the international stage. The under-20 squad won the country’s first football World Cup in 2006, with North Korea emerging victorious from the inaugural under-17 women’s World Cup two years later.

Kim Jong-un came to power in 2011 and, like his father and predecessor Kim Jong-il, made the development of competitive sport a key policy priority. He increased investment in sport significantly, overseeing the construction of sports facilities such as the Pyongyang International Football School.

Opened in 2013, this is a state-run elite training facility that aims to identify and develop talented young footballers for the country’s national teams. Some of the best players from the current youth setup, including Yu Jong-hyang and Kim Won-sim, attended the school.

Why sport matters

Any sporting victory on the global stage is important for the North Korean government as it helps boost nationalism among the country’s people. In 2023, Kim Jong-un proclaimed: “it is a sacred duty of our athletes to raise our national flag high in foreign land”. Young North Korean women footballers have consistently performed this very act.

Jon Il Chong, who was announced as the best player at the under-17 women’s World Cup in 2024, told reporters after North Korea’s victory in the final: “It was the desire and honour of our team to give the respected fatherly marshal, Kim Jong-un, the report of pleasure and victory.” She added: “I will train harder and harder in the future so that I will demonstrate the honour of North Korea throughout the world.”

But Pyongyang’s goal extends beyond boosting nationalism among its athletes. Two days after the 2025 under-17 women’s final, the state-run Korean Central Television channel broadcast a delayed recording of the match on large outdoor screens in Pyongyang. Rodong Sinmun, the official newspaper of the ruling Workers’ party, described jubilant scenes across the capital.

“Even young mothers scolded their children to walk faster and stopped in front of the screens, holding them tight as they watched the match,” its report said. “The area around Pyongyang Station became a sea of ecstasy.”

North Korea’s leadership tends to be viewed internationally as despotic and militaristic. However, even relatively minor international sporting events like the under-17 women’s football World Cup present an opportunity for North Korea to project a more positive image of itself to the world. They also provide a channel for diplomatic dialogue.

Fifa’s webpage featured images and stories of the North Korean under-17 women’s team following their win in Morocco, with a celebratory and congratulatory undertone throughout. Even in South Korea, a country North Korea maintains frosty relations with, football fans shared their admiration for the North Korean team’s success on social media.

Clearly, the dominance of North Korea’s youth sides needs to be translated into the senior game for the state’s sporting strategy to be fully successful. North Korean football players need to join prestigious professional leagues in the west, competing on a more visible platform against the best players in the world.

But due to UN economic sanctions imposed on the regime in Pyongyang, which were first levied in 2006 and have been tightened since, no homegrown North Korean footballers can sign a contract with a foreign football club. This creates a significant barrier to the development of North Korean football beyond the youth level moving forward.

It remains to be seen whether North Korea can regather its past momentum and qualify for the senior women’s World Cup in Brazil in 2027. But, for now, North Korea’s footballing dominance seems limited to the youth ranks.

Jung Woo Lee 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. Why the North Korean government is so invested in women’s youth football – https://theconversation.com/why-the-north-korean-government-is-so-invested-in-womens-youth-football-269563

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Aurelien Mondon, Senior Lecturer in Politics, University of Bath

More than 20 of Nigel Farage’s former classmates have reportedly alleged the Reform UK leader made racist and antisemitic comments between the ages of 13 and 18.

The claims – some of which have been known for some time – are truly horrendous. They include allegedly taunting Jewish students, including telling one, “Hitler was right,” and singing, “Gas ‘em all.”

After a party spokesperson emphatically denied the accusations on his behalf, Farage has now dismissed the alleged comments as banter in a playground. Asked to categorically rule out that he had engaged in racial abuse, he said he “would never, ever do it in a hurtful or insulting way”. Or at least, “not with intent”, as he clarified once pushed further.

More recently, his position appeared to change again when he said, “I can tell you categorically that I did not say the things that have been published in the Guardian aged 13, nearly 50 years ago.”

However historic, reports of such behaviour – and Farage’s reaction – give us an insight into the leader of what I argue is now the UK’s main far-right party (more on that later). Anyone who has paid attention to Farage’s political career will not be surprised by the nature of the beliefs allegedly espoused.

Reform UK selected as head of its student organisation a former academic who argued that UK-born people from minority ethnic backgrounds were not always British. And when Reform MP Sarah Pochin came under fire for her complaints about adverts “full” of black and Asian people, Farage said he thought the “intention” behind her comments was “ugly”, but not “racist”.

Reform campaigners have been caught making homophobic and racist slurs. Councillors have resigned or candidates dropped from ballots for allegedly making offensive or racist comments. And of course, there is always the image of Farage with Ukip’s “breaking point” poster.

With the latest allegations, Farage appears to be taking an approach of plausible deniability: who is to know what he thought at the time?

This has been part of the reactionary playbook for decades. Public figures cross the line before denying intent or pretending they are “just asking questions”. This strategy allows them to make their ideas enter the mainstream public discourse, while facing few real risks of repercussion or accountability.

What really matters is seeing this episode as part of a wider political project. In other words, even if Farage had not acted like this as a teenager, would that mean the politics he has helped mainstream for decades are now acceptable?

Reactionary playbook

Recent history shows that focusing only on extreme actions at the expense of more subtle discourse can help, rather than hurt, right or far-right political projects.

Jean-Marie Le Pen, the former head of France’s far-right Front National and father of current far-right leader Marine Le Pen, was fined on a number of occasions for describing the Holocaust as a “detail of history”. These claims again should not have surprised us, considering his political trajectory and the simple fact the Front National was born out of a neo-fascist alliance.

Yet the outrage caused by Le Pen’s Holocaust denialism did not prevent the mainstreaming of his party or politics. He remained president of the FN until 2011 and an MEP until 2019. Crucially, it paved the way for his daughter to become a leader who could appear more moderate by comparison while espousing similar politics.

Legitimisation through contradistinction is a key chapter in the far-right playbook. Find an extreme example to make your political project appear moderate by comparison. Marine Le Pen benefited from this again in 2022 when the extremist campaign of Eric Zemmour made her seem like a palatable alternative.

Farage himself benefited from this in the 2010s by portraying the British National Party as beyond the pale, claiming even to have destroyed the far right in the UK. Of course, this flies in the face of the politics that Ukip, the Brexit Party and Reform have pushed since – but it has worked wonders in the mainstream media.

Thanks to his more affable persona, his own elite status and connections and his more polished discourse, Farage was able to portray himself as acceptable by comparison with the extreme right, thus shifting the dial right regarding what is acceptable in mainstream discourse.

The threat cannot simply be resolved through individual introspection, apologies for crossing the line or indeed, the downplaying of deeply offensive speech as “banter”.

Even if Farage were to admit fault and apologise, this would not have the impact many hope. The cat is out of the bag: far-right views on immigration, Islam or trans rights are now core to mainstream public discourse and shaping the agenda, thanks in part to politicians like Farage.

Read more:
Look to the mainstream to explain the rise of the far right

Far-right politicians have been incredibly successful at forcing their ideas into mainstream discourse under a thin veneer of respectability, or by hijacking potentially progressive or liberal values such as free speech or violence against women and girls to push deeply reactionary politics.

Though I and others argue that Reform fits the academic definition of “far right”, there is a tendency among mainstream politicians and media to take the party at its word or to back away from confrontation. Something of the sort happened with the BBC apology to Reform in 2024 for calling the party “far right”.

Not calling out these politics for what they are can only legitimise them. This is done through euphemism (calling them “populist” for example), by absorbing and mimicking them or accepting them as “legitimate grievances” from “the people”.

Focusing on extreme events such as the reports of Farage’s teenage past can exceptionalise the nature of far-right politics and make it harder to call out. This sensationalist approach centred on one person’s behaviour prevents us from actually interrogating the wider process of mainstreaming, which takes more mundane forms and has a much deeper impact on our public discourse and democracy. It also downplays the role played by the mainstream media and politicians in the process of mainstreaming.

Creating individual monsters to symbolise extremism is a distraction away from the very real and systemic nature of the far-right threat.

Aurelien Mondon 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. Nigel Farage’s alleged teenage comments are a distraction from the damage of his politics – https://theconversation.com/nigel-farages-alleged-teenage-comments-are-a-distraction-from-the-damage-of-his-politics-270617

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Catia Nicodemo, Professor of Health Economics, Brunel University of London

The NHS didn’t receive a great deal of specific attention in Rachel Reeves’ budget. She mentioned it, but in fairly general terms around plans to invest and cut waiting lists.

But the overall plan presented by the chancellor effectively incorporates the NHS into a high tax, high spend economic model. Those revenue-raising taxes include a long freeze in income tax thresholds, higher rates on property, dividends and savings, plus new levies on gambling and electric vehicles.

And structurally, this arrangement does two things for the NHS. First, it shifts more of the tax burden onto wealth and higher incomes, which may be politically easier to defend when channelling money into health. Second, it broadens the tax base that pays for day-to-day NHS running costs, reducing reliance on borrowing to fund nurses’ salaries or catching up on elective (non-emergency) procedures.

On the spending side, there was talk of protecting “record investment” and a promise of 250 new neighbourhood health centres.

Reeves said the government was “expanding more services into communities so that people can receive treatment outside of hospitals and get better, faster care where they live”.

This is an encouraging sign of plans to boost primary and community care capacity rather than just pour more money into hospitals. And it could be the only route to a sustainable NHS. For if more problems are dealt with earlier and closer to home, acute care becomes less overwhelmed.

Away from the NHS frontline, the “milkshake tax” – extending the sugar levy to high-sugar dairy drinks – is a relatively small move economically. But it is an important strategic step which shows that the Treasury realises that diet-related disease should be treated not just as a clinical problem, but a fiscal one too.

Even modest reductions in obesity and diabetes can significantly ease future NHS demand and improve people’s chances of working.

That said, critics could argue that it also functions as a kind of “sin tax” because lower-income households spend a higher share of their income on cheap, high-sugar products. So the levy risks being regressive unless it is paired with affordable healthy alternatives and targeted support, so that it changes behaviour without simply squeezing the poorest.

Alongside this, the decision to remove the two-child cap on some benefits pulls in the opposite direction. It is a redistributive measure that should reduce child poverty rather than penalise it.

Health risks

For the NHS, that matters just as much as any health-specific tax. Children growing up in poverty are more likely to experience poor nutrition, overcrowded housing, chronic stress and worse mental health. All of these drive higher use of health and social care over their lifetime.

Lifting the cap therefore acts as a preventative health intervention by boosting household resources for larger families, improving the chances that children have access to adequate food, heating and stability.

So in combination, a sugar levy that nudges diets in a healthier direction and a benefits system that no longer structurally penalises the children of larger families could, if well designed and properly supported, start to lessen long-term demand on the NHS. And that could work out to be a better approach compared to simply funding ever-rising treatment costs.

Overall, the budget nudges the UK towards paying more tax now to avoid an even more financially fragile NHS later.

But that comes with risks too. If economic growth, productivity and the UK’s general health do not improve quickly enough, a tax-heavy model with a still-overstretched health service could prove politically and economically unstable.

Catia Nicodemo is affiliated with the University of Oxford

– ref. What the budget means for the NHS – https://theconversation.com/what-the-budget-means-for-the-nhs-270900