Category: English

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Nikhil Datta, Assistant Professor, Economics, University of Warwick

Housing and high rental costs have been a major issue for the UK in the past decade. While other countries have moved towards protections for renters, rent control has not been a widespread feature of the British rental market for over a generation.

But now the new Renters’ Rights Act introduces provisions to protect tenants in England against rent increases. While the UK government says it “does not support the introduction of rent controls”, the act does allow tenants to appeal rent increases if they are above market rents.

Only time will tell whether the act introduces rent control through the back door. In the meantime, the Scottish parliament recently passed landmark housing legislation that will allow for limited rent controls across the country from 2027.

But among economists, rent controls are controversial. They have the potential for unintended consequences – including, ultimately, housing shortages. However, fears were raised about the unintended consequences of a proposed minimum wage three decades ago. Today, the policy is generally seen as having avoided the negative impact on employment that was once feared.

Rent control reliably offers short-term protection for sitting tenants, curbing their need to move away in the face of price pressures and keeping rents lower in covered properties.

But landlords often adjust in ways that shrink the regulated rental stock, selling properties on to owner-occupiers or converting them into short-term lets. This was the experience in San Francisco, where landlords responded by reducing the number of rent-controlled units.

Berlin’s rent freeze seemed to have similar effects, briefly pushing down regulated asking rents, which coincided with a fall in the number of rental listings.

Evidence from Catalonia in Spain, however, paints a more optimistic picture. Average rents there fell by around 4%-6% without any detectable fall in supply.

Classic economic theory – and evidence – highlight another set of risks: mis-allocation (where homes don’t go to those who could benefit most from them) and under-maintenance of properties within the controlled sector. When strict controls were abolished in Cambridge, Massachusetts, property values jumped sharply both for previously controlled homes and those that had never been subject to rent controls.

This suggests there were negative consequences from regulated properties on others in the neighbourhood, possibly driven by under-maintenance reducing overall neighbourhood appeal.

Overall, reviews of academic studies suggest that the outcome depends on the shape the policy takes – things like whether new-builds are exempt, if rents can rise between tenancies and whether controls are indexed and enforced.

Yet the broad pattern is clear: rent control tends to protect tenants in the short run. But in the longer run, supply responses often shift the pressure on to those still searching for a home.

So, what can we learn from economic analysis? The Renters’ Rights Act does not limit rents for new contracts, but seeks to regulate rent increases for incumbent tenants. Given the abolition of section 21 (“no-fault”) evictions, this is necessary to prevent landlords from raising rents far above the market rate to force tenants out.

Some economic models suggest it is reasonable to regulate rent increases for sitting tenants. Renters who are already in a property are typically less price-sensitive than those searching on the open market. They may have attachments to their homes – proximity to work and schools, or community ties, for example – and moving would be costly.

As a result, landlords may hold greater power over these tenants. Consequently, the legislation aims to ensure that tenants do not face rent increases beyond what landlords could obtain on the open market.

Theory vs practice

While well-intentioned, there are concerns when it comes to the design of rent control. A key worry is the uncertainty around what the “market rate” actually is.

If a tenant believes a rent increase exceeds that, they will be able to challenge it through the UK’s tribunal system. Right now, the first-tier tribunal hears very few cases – but an increase in complaints could overburden the system.

At present, market rent is determined by looking at properties in the area and is decided by a judge or surveyor. But this setup comes with challenges.

Homes have many dimensions that people value differently. This makes predicting what a property would rent for on the open market far from straightforward. Even surveyors valuing homes for sale tend to deviate by around 10% in either direction from actual prices. Machine learning models perform no better.

As a result, judgements could have a “luck of the draw” element for both tenants and landlords, raising issues of consistency and transparency. These problems will be even more acute for unique properties.

Finally, there is the issue of access. Evidence shows that lower-income or otherwise disadvantaged people are less likely to use formal tribunal processes.

These challenges do not mean the policy should be abandoned. But careful design could ease pressure on the judicial system and improve transparency.

One option would be to introduce a commitment mechanism for rent increases. Under this approach, if a landlord raised the rent and the tenant felt it was unfair and chose to leave, the tenant could complain to a proposed new ombudsman or tribunal.

The tribunal’s role would be limited. It would record the complaint and later review the rent agreed in the next tenancy for that property. If it was lower, the landlord would pay the former tenant compensation.

This mechanism would encourage landlords to set rent increases only at levels they genuinely believe the market will bear.

Ultimately, the success of rent regulation will depend less on the principle and more on the details of its design and enforcement. A system that protects tenants without freezing supply or overburdening the courts will need clear rules, credible oversight and realistic expectations of the “market rate”.

The Renters’ Rights Act represents a bold attempt to rebalance power in favour of the tenant. But its implementation will determine whether it provides stability for renters and improves the market, or simply adds a layer of uncertainty for both sides.

Nikhil Datta receives, or has received funding from the Nuffield Foundation, British Academy, Leverhulme Trust and the Economic and Social Research Council.

Jan David Bakker has received funding from the BA/Leverhulme Trust, the PRIN and the PNRR.

– ref. Could new tenants’ rights usher in rent controls? Here’s why that wouldn’t necessarily be a positive – https://theconversation.com/could-new-tenants-rights-usher-in-rent-controls-heres-why-that-wouldnt-necessarily-be-a-positive-268827

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Charlotte Goodburn, Reader in Chinese Politics and Development, King’s College London

The UK government is promoting its plan for a new digital identity scheme as a way to streamline services, prevent fraud and ensure that welfare benefits reach only those entitled to them. The prime minister, Keir Starmer, has argued that digital ID is central to modernising the welfare state and tightening immigration controls.

On his recent trip to India, Starmer praised the country’s Aadhaar programme, the world’s largest digital ID system, as a “massive success”. The UK government has cited Aadhaar’s role in “reducing fraud and leakages in welfare schemes”.

But my ongoing research on India’s digital identity registration suggests that large-scale efficiency can come at significant social cost.

Aadhaar was launched in 2009, giving every Indian resident a unique 12-digit number, linked to demographic and biometric information. Its stated aim was to eliminate duplication in welfare distribution and make the system more efficient.

Fifteen years on, however, the results tell a different story. Millions of people have lost access to subsidised food, pensions and wages for public projects, sometimes for months or years at a time.

This was not because they were ineligible for the benefits, but because they failed to satisfy the system’s rigid digital conditions. These problems are ongoing.

Officials claim that Aadhaar has saved billions of rupees in welfare spending, by removing people who didn’t qualify. But research by economist Reetika Khera and colleagues shows that much of the reduction in beneficiary numbers came from the removal of legitimate claimants whose records could not be verified.

For many households, the shift to Aadhaar-linked benefits meant replacing decisions by local officials with automation. To collect subsidised food, recipients must have their number regularly authenticated online.

When internet connections fail, names are misspelt or data not updated, access can be cancelled. The same applies to pension payments and employment schemes, where officials are no longer able to override computer-generated rejections.

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Read more:
Digital ID cards: what are they and how will they help the UK deal with illegal immigration?

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The effects have been severe. In Jharkhand state, an 11-year-old girl reportedly died from starvation after her family’s access to food rations was cancelled for not being linked to Aadhaar. Other deaths have been reported after households were struck from welfare lists because of data errors or missed deadlines. The victims were not impostors, but the system’s intended beneficiaries.

Digital exclusion through Aadhaar has specific impacts on women. Where their identities are linked to the mobile numbers or bank accounts of male relatives, they cannot independently authenticate their benefits, and lose access when relationships change.

Though such effects may be less pronounced in the UK, the same principle applies: digital identity systems tend to replicate existing social hierarchies.

The problem with Aadhaar is not technology alone, but how it interacts with existing institutions. Local bureaucrats are essential to making social assistance work. However, automation has curtailed their roles. Digital systems may reject applications or delay payments, while claimants are left without clear channels for appeal.

In the northwestern state of Rajasthan, thousands of pensioners went unpaid for months because errors in their Aadhaar registration were fixable only by authorities in the state capital.

Where automation replaces local, human assistance, those least able to navigate the systems – the poor, the elderly, the less literate – are most likely to lose out.

Data mobility and migration

One of Aadhaar’s stated aims was to make identity portable, allowing Indian citizens to claim benefits nationwide. In practice, this mobility has proved hard to achieve. People commonly lose access when moving between states, because data is not synchronised across administrative systems.

Making digital data mobile across bureaucracies is technically complex and socially consequential. Internal migrants and refugees can fall through the gaps. For example, people who had recently moved were unable to access COVID-19 treatment and vaccination for lack of locally-accepted Aadhaar.

Proposals indicate the UK’s system will connect tax, welfare and employment databases. Even in a smaller, more centralised state like the UK, similar issues of data mobility may arise if information has to flow between departments like the Department for Work and Pensions, HMRC and local authorities. A 2025 government review identified fragmentation of UK data systems as a key obstacle to policy coordination.

In India, as in the UK today, the introduction of digital ID was partly shaped by fears around cross-border migration. But here again the impacts have been troubling.

In the border state of Assam, concern over irregular entry from Bangladesh has blurred the line between identity verification and citizenship. Residents who fail to match records across Aadhaar and the National Register of Citizens, often due to minor discrepancies, have been excluded from both welfare and healthcare. For many, this has created a state of administrative limbo: neither formally foreigners nor recognised citizens.

It is not yet clear to what extent Britain’s proposed digital ID will use biometric data, and the country’s welfare system is structurally different from India’s. Yet the underlying rationale is similar, as are the governance issues.

If the UK looks to systems like Aadhaar for inspiration, it should also take into account the challenges. Otherwise, it risks launching a system where those with unstable housing, irregular employment or limited digital literacy may be excluded. And, as in India, errors and mismatches will likely affect those least able to contest them.

Charlotte Goodburn received research funding from The British Academy/Leverhulme (SG162863) for her project “Rural-urban migration and regimes of registration: comparing China and India”.

– ref. The UK has praised India’s digital ID system – but it’s locked millions out of their legitimate benefits – https://theconversation.com/the-uk-has-praised-indias-digital-id-system-but-its-locked-millions-out-of-their-legitimate-benefits-268020

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Ellen Ruth Kujawa, Coastal Change Research Fellow, University of Hull; University of Cambridge

Hurricane Melissa devastated Jamaica in late October, killed dozens in Haiti and forced nearly three-quarters of a million Cubans to evacuate. The death toll across the region is still unknown – but Melissa will go down as one of the strongest storms ever recorded.

It also represents a bellwether for a new era of dangerous hurricanes, driven by climate change. These storms are becoming increasingly violent and harder to predict.

Melissa’s devastation may look like a story of wind and water, but it speaks to a broader question of climate justice: who gets access to life-saving information when a storm strikes? Accurate forecasts gave the governments and residents of Jamaica, Haiti and Cuba time to prepare. This was particularly crucial, as Melissa intensified rapidly from a moderate storm to a major hurricane in less than 24 hours.

Climate change is increasing the frequency of such rapidly intensifying storms. It’s also making them harder to predict. So it’s bad news that the Trump administration is cutting funding for the state-run National Weather Service (NWS) and pushing for the privatisation of government agencies.

The potential decrease in forecast quality this foreshadows will not be borne equally. Hurricanes don’t treat all places uniformly – and neither do NWS forecasts. In my research on hurricane forecasting across the Caribbean, I’ve found that these inequalities already shape how different places receive and use lifesaving information.

Puerto Rico

Melissa underlined just how essential high-quality hurricane forecasts are – allowing officials in the Caribbean precious time to prepare for the storm’s arrival. But my research in Puerto Rico shows that the production and distribution of hurricane forecasts in the Caribbean is more complicated – and more entangled with issues of justice – than it might appear.

Over two years of interviews with meteorologists and emergency managers, I found that Puerto Rican decision-makers perceive – with some supporting evidence, including delays in information availability and deferred equipment maintenance – that their island is marginalised in terms of the forecasts it receives.

Meteorology is often framed as an objective science, but it is deeply political, embedded within systems of state power – and my research suggests that Puerto Rico’s second-tier colonial status extends to its access to forecast knowledge.

Puerto Rico’s vulnerability was widely discussed after Hurricane Maria devastated the island in 2017, killing nearly 3,000 people. The island’s vulnerability to hurricanes well known – between 1851 and 2019, nine major hurricanes made landfall in Puerto Rico, the third-highest number of major hurricanes in the Caribbean. Decades of infrastructural neglect, economic austerity and political powerlessness have compounded that vulnerability.

Forecasts are crucial to decision-making in Puerto Rico. They inform evacuations and requests for federal aid, and they help to plan how to protect critical infrastructure. But their usefulness differs from that of mainland forecasts. As one Puerto Rican meteorologist told me: “A perfect forecast for [the continental United States] is between five to ten miles; five to ten miles for us can be disaster or not disaster.”

Puerto Rico’s small size means that even a ten-mile error in a hurricane’s predicted track can be the difference between a near miss and a catastrophic landfall. For Puerto Rico, a track error that barely matters for a continental state can spell the difference between a glancing blow and a direct hit. In other words, what counts as a “perfect forecast” for a mainland state looks very different for a small island.

Inequality in forecasting

But the issues go deeper than this. Puerto Rican meteorologists told me the forecasts they receive are designed primarily to be applicable to the continental US and later adapted for Caribbean islands. One meteorologist told me: “Mostly it’s us here by ourselves.” Many believe the forecasts they receive are inferior to those that their counterparts use in the continental US, and that they receive less institutional support from the NWS.

When people making life-and-death decisions doubt the quality of the data they rely on, the resulting uncertainty has the potential to undermine both their confidence and public trust.

And there is evidence to justify decision-makers’ doubts. Puerto Rico received storm surge maps – maps of likely storm-generated increases in coastal water levels in 2017, several years after the continental US. Hawaii received them at the same time, suggesting the delay stems from island geography rather than territorial status.

Puerto Rico’s on-island radar unit, which failed as Hurricane Maria made landfall, had been flagged for maintenance in 2011, six years before Maria hit. Interviewees suggested to me that the unit would have been repaired or replaced more quickly in the continental US.

These examples suggest that inequality in forecasting isn’t just perceived – it’s demonstrable: from delayed storm-surge maps to neglected radar maintenance. Forecasts may appear objective and technical, but they are inseparable from their political and institutional contexts. Puerto Rico depends on hurricane forecasts but in practice, does not receive the same level of meteorological knowledge as the continental US.

The Trump administration has already proposed cuts and restructuring that would reduce funding for public forecasting and expand the role of private weather firms. This risks prioritising profit over public safety. It’s particularly dangerous in an above-average hurricane season, and seems likely to worsen as the Trump administration continues to push for decreased funding to the NWS.

When political pressure narrows the NWS remit, vulnerable places such as Puerto Rico risk losing the early warnings they depend on. Storms such as Hurricane Melissa and Hurricane Maria test the capacity of governments and institutions to act on forecast knowledge.

But that knowledge is not neutral. Forecasts do more than predict weather – their prioritisation effectively determines whose safety counts most. As hurricanes intensify in the region, the fairness of forecast systems – who they protect, and who they neglect – will become one of the defining questions of climate justice.

Ellen Ruth Kujawa received funding from a Cambridge Trust Scholarship, and grants from the Cambridge Department of Geography, the Worts Traveling Scholars Fund, the Smuts Memorial Fund, and the Mount Holyoke College Alumnae Association.

– ref. Why some places get better storm warnings than others – and what that means for Puerto Rico – https://theconversation.com/why-some-places-get-better-storm-warnings-than-others-and-what-that-means-for-puerto-rico-269064

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Nick Bernards, Associate Professor of Global Sustainable Development, University of Warwick

A US$125 billion rainforest fund is being hailed as a flagship announcement from the 2025 UN climate summit in Belém, Brazil. The goal is noble: this is essentially a trust fund that will pay countries to keep their tropical forests standing. But its core idea was tried 30 years ago, and the results weren’t great.

Brazilian president Luiz Inàcio Lula da Silva suggests the so-called Tropical Forests Forever Facility (TFFF) is innovative because it is “an investment fund, not a donation mechanism”. This, in theory, means investors can benefit too, providing a long-term stability that isn’t affected by political cycles.

Turning to private markets is not in itself all that innovative. But years of efforts to mobilise private finance for climate action have routinely failed to attract sufficient investment.

The reasons for this are pretty simple. Many necessary activities simply aren’t “good” investments. Even commercial renewable energy projects often struggle to offer returns high enough to compete with other assets.

All of these problems are particularly pronounced for forest conservation. There aren’t many ways to generate income by leaving forests alone, and clearing them for timber or agriculture is generally more profitable. Indeed, this is one of the key drivers of deforestation in the first place.

Back to the future?

The TFFF is designed to work around these constraints. Rather than investing directly in conservation projects, it functions like a large endowment or trust fund. It aims to raise US$25 billion in “sponsor capital” from government and philanthropic donors.

Brazil has pledged US$1 billion. Norway followed suit, promising about US$3 billion. The fund also plans to sell US$100 billion in bonds to private investors.

Eventually, the full US$125 billion will be invested in financial markets. After paying interest to investors and sponsors, the remaining returns will be used to pay participating countries around US$4 per hectare of standing tropical forest, minus penalties for forest loss.

By separating investors’ returns from conservation success, the TFFF does potentially create a more appealing offer for private investors than previous climate finance schemes.

However, this model has been tried before.

Trust funds for conservation

In the early 1990s, around the time of the first global negotiations on climate change, the World Bank’s Global Environment Facility financed a trust fund for biodiversity conservation in the Himalayan kingdom of Bhutan. It was followed by similar projects in Uganda, Mexico, Peru, Brazil, and Poland, Slovakia and Ukraine.

These funds were justified in terms very similar to Lula’s pitch for the TFFF. Private finance was needed, wrote one World Bank official in 1993, “because it is impossible to predict whether the current ‘boom’ in international [government] financing for conservation will last”.

Yet evaluations of these conservation trust funds highlighted recurring problems.

Returns on investment were often lower than anticipated, delaying projects sometimes by years, including the very first one in Bhutan. (And quite how much revenue the TFFF’s investments will actually generate is uncertain.)

The money was tied up in investments and only a small amount was available for conservation. And, while a trust fund can generate a steady trickle of revenue to pay operating costs, it’s much harder to use this model to start new projects.

In Bhutan, the managers of the trust fund struggled with how to finance start-up costs for establishing new conservation areas without eating into the fund itself. Eventually they received a separate grant from the World Wildlife Fund. The TFFF would likely face similar difficulties funding initiatives such as returning farmed land to indigenous communities.

The TFFF inherits these issues, and adds a new one. To attract private investors, interest payments will be prioritised over conservation spending. The TFFF’s concept note is explicit that payments to participating countries will fall if investment income can’t cover payments to bondholders. In other words, there is a real risk that reassuring investors may come at the expense of the fund’s ability to actually protect forests.

There are bigger questions to ask, too. For instance, a coalition of civil society organizations from across the Amazon, as well as Africa and Asia, have already rejected the initiative. They argue it risks turning forests into commodities with a price tag, and that despite claims of centring Indigenous communities, it actually allocates them a paltry amount of money in top-down fashion.

The revival of a mechanism first tried in the early 1990s should give us pause. If private capital can only be mobilised on terms that weaken climate action, then perhaps there’s no longer any alternative to greatly increased public funding and much stronger redistributive measures. Rich countries, corporations, and individuals will need to shoulder more of the cost of mitigating a crisis they’ve played a disproportionate role in creating.

In recent years activists and researchers have proposed a long list of alternative options. These include diverting some of the trillions currently spent on the world’s largest militaries, reforms to reduce corporate tax avoidance, and debt relief for climate vulnerable countries.

We can debate whether any all of these specific options is effective or appropriate. The TFFF and its limits are a sign that it’s well past time to take such measures seriously.

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Nick Bernards has previously received funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada and British International Studies Association.

– ref. The world’s new US$125 billion rainforest trust fund revives a 1990s idea – and shows its limits – https://theconversation.com/the-worlds-new-us-125-billion-rainforest-trust-fund-revives-a-1990s-idea-and-shows-its-limits-270238

Source: The Conversation – UK – By David Allan, Reader in Professional Education and Learning, Edge Hill University

The government’s vision for higher education in England, set out in a recent policy paper, includes some changes that will benefit students from poorer backgrounds.

An increase in maintenance loans, for instance, will help to support disadvantaged students. So too will the introduction of a lifelong learning entitlement loan. Students from disadvantaged backgrounds often have learning trajectories that are far from linear, so access to a lifetime entitlement makes sense.

Other positive aspects include an aim to create more joined-up thinking in communities, greater links between higher education providers and employers and targeted funding initiatives. There is a general acknowledgement of the challenges disadvantaged students face. And these students are addressed throughout the document, albeit mostly through the lens of seeing their economic potential.

But the government’s broader strategy for universities will present significant challenges for students who come from poorer families and live in disadvantaged areas. It encourages universities to carve out particular specialisms. This means honing their expertise and concentrating on their unique selling point – their “core purpose”. It suggests that while competition can be healthy, “too many providers with similar offerings are chasing the same students”.

The implications for this in practice may be that universities axe some of their courses in favour of a narrower menu of study. The casualties of such a move would typically be arts and humanities courses. This is especially likely when the government plans to offer funding incentives for priority areas, which include science, technology and engineering.

Indeed, many reductions in the higher education portfolio have already taken place across the sector, such as for arts subjects. This is arguably due to pressures on each university to deliver “successful outcomes” for its students. These outcomes, such as employment after graduation, however, are narrowly measured. They run the risk of devaluing arts-based education. They also may constrain opportunities for many people seeking greater life chances.

Local limitations

Disadvantaged students in particular could be significantly affected by changes that reduce the variety of courses available at their local university. A diverse portfolio of courses creates opportunities for those who may not traditionally access higher education. Disadvantaged students are less likely to apply to prestigious institutions. They are more likely to study closer to home.

In recent years, closure of courses at universities has created what is known as cold spots. These are areas of the UK where certain university subjects are not offered. These closures, unfortunately, often affect lower tariff providers – universities that require lower grades for entry to a degree course. This means reduced opportunities for disadvantaged students to access the courses they might want to study in their local area.

For regional areas, too, a wealth of course availability can create wider opportunities. For instance, it can allow local businesses to make use of a wide range of skills from students who remain in the area.

Streamlining what universities offer may also result in further status distinctions between higher education institutions. It could pave the way for an even more ferociously competitive sector, the rationale being that “the cream will rise to the top.” But this may mean that only universities ranking highly in a particular field will be positioned to provide courses in this field.

This is neglectful of smaller and often newer providers that may be in need of developmental support. It may close down opportunities for universities to grow and establish research excellence where it may not yet exist.

It benefits everyone if England’s higher education system grows and flourishes. But for every positive choice we make, we have to consider the possible fallout on marginalised members of society. The implementation of these policy proposals, then, will need to consider the implications of perpetuating a heavily driven and economically competitive market for higher education. This could mean careful contemplation of the purpose of higher education itself.

David Allan 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. Streamlining what universities offer could backfire for disadvantaged students – https://theconversation.com/streamlining-what-universities-offer-could-backfire-for-disadvantaged-students-268025

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Jeremy Hicks, Professor of Post-Soviet Cultural History and Film, Queen Mary University of London

The famine of 1932-33, known as the Holodomor, claimed the lives of millions of people in Ukraine. It was not due to climactic failure, but caused by the confiscation of grain, punitively targeted by the Soviet government and its leader Joseph Stalin at Ukrainians.

Yet it is not universally recognised as a genocide. This lack of consensus stems both from historical debates over whether Ukrainians were deliberately targeted, and from political considerations surrounding the recognition of genocides.

It is nevertheless an important historical event, memory of which serves to unite Ukrainians as a nation. However, one factor preventing wider recognition of the Holodomor as a central moment in 20th century history is the lack of compelling treatment in film.

This is in sharp contrast to the Holocaust, where film was key in cementing its place in both Jewish and wider consciousness.

It is productive to compare depictions of the Holodomor with those of the Holocaust. Like the genocide of Jewish people, the murder by famine of Ukrainians was a crime denied and covered up by its perpetrators, in particular through bans on filming and photography.

When Nazi Germany was defeated in 1945, its foes uncovered and publicised extensive evidence of its crimes. The Soviet Union didn’t collapse until 1991, however, over 50 years after the Holodomor, making its documentation harder.

This meant the first films on the subject were made by the Ukrainian diaspora in Canada: The Unknown Holocaust: 10 Million Victims, Ukraine 1933 (1983) and Harvest of Despair (1984). Both included groundbreaking interviews with survivors and eyewitnesses, but also used a number of images depicting Russian victims of the earlier famine of 1921-23. They also quoted widely circulated estimates for the number of victims that have been shown to be inflated.

This left the films open to criticism from deniers who claimed the famine didn’t happen, as was the official Soviet line. The shortcomings of the films weakened their case for the Holodomor and restricted their impact.

These films were further limited by being made outside Ukraine, where the subject was still banned. Following the Glasnost (the policy of greater freedom of expression inaugurated by Mikhail Gorbachev in the USSR from 1985) Ukrainians in Ukraine were also able to make films about the subject, even before the collapse of the Soviet system.

Initially they focused on eyewitness testimony with the notable film, 33rd. Witnesses’ Testimonies (1989). The film starts by showing images from 1921, saying that that famine was filmed, unlike that of 1933, and then concentrates on interviewing eyewitnesses.

This was swiftly followed by the first acted film depicting these events, Famine 33 (1991). It was released on the eve of the Ukrainian independence referendum and is seen as contributing to the overwhelming endorsement of independence (including by Crimea, Luhansk and Donetsk).

However, despite its political impact, the film is not great. Part of the problem is the difficulty of channelling cinema’s spectacular nature and orientation towards entertainment to the task of depicting mass death and suffering. It’s the same challenge confronted by films about the Holocaust.

The films that get it right

The highly influential mini-series Holocaust (1978) was condemned for using actors to portray death by famine, trivialising immense suffering by adapting these historical events to norms of TV entertainment.

Famine 33 and the more recent international production Mr Jones (2019) have not succeeded in producing memorable representations of the terrible events of the Holodomor, but that does not mean the task is impossible.

The most successful film representation of the Holodomor is the 2008 documentary film The Living, directed by Serhii Bukovs’kyi. Its great merit is that it avoids images of famine victims and any hint of a sensationalist emphasis on cannibalism, a chilling, but repeated feature of famines that is dwelt upon in most other films.

Instead it conveys the events through eyewitness testimony, both in interviews with survivors and accounts produced at the time, contrasted with Soviet propagandist films proclaiming that all was well. The interviews enable us to get to know the elderly Ukrainian peasants before they later recount the awful things that happened to them.

It also avoids the word genocide and the debate on total death figures. The resulting film invites viewers to reflect empathetically, rather than imposing conclusions.

In making this film, Bukovs’kyi built on his previous experience making Spell Your Name (2006). That film was about the Holocaust in Ukraine where more than 1.5 million Jewish people perished. He used the testimonies collected by Steven Spielberg’s Shoah Foundation to make the film.

Bukovs’kyi’s work explores how memory of these two catastrophes that afflicted Ukraine can be reconciled. Previous films of the Holodomor implicitly competed with memory of the Holocaust.

By contrast, the Russian state is implacably opposed to memory of the Holodomor. It removes monuments to it wherever it can in occupied Ukraine, as expressions of Ukrainian identity and sovereignty separate from Russia. The fourth Sunday in November, Holodomor Remembrance Day, acquires particular significance in this context, not just for Ukrainians.

As well as official ceremonies, commemorative events and lighting a candle, film screenings across media are part of the activities and play a vital role in conveying memory of this tragic history. Engaging with it and watching these films defies Russian attempts to suppress this memory and deny Ukraine’s sovereignty.

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Jeremy Hicks receives funding from the Philip Leverhulme Trust, The British Academy and the Arts and Humanities Research Council (UK). He is a member of the Labour Party (UK).

– ref. The Holodomor on screen: how cinema shapes memory of Ukraine’s famine – https://theconversation.com/the-holodomor-on-screen-how-cinema-shapes-memory-of-ukraines-famine-269239