Glasgow’s Citizens Theatre reopens: what its seven-year transformation reveals about the future of historic venues

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Andrew Filmer, Senior Lecturer in Theatre and Performance, Aberystwyth University

The relaunching of Glasgow’s famous Citizens Theatre – known locally as the “Citz” – marks the end of a significant seven-year redevelopment project that has seen the people of the city go without a cherished cultural landmark. It also highlights wider trends in how historic theatres are being redeveloped to make them more accessible, socially connected and sustainable while also preserving their heritage.

Extensive work has been done to improve almost all areas of the theatre, from foyer spaces and audience access, to sightlines in the auditorium and technical facilities. The redevelopment makes a feature of the Citizens’ history by revealing previously hidden sandstone walls in the foyer, and restoring its beloved statues of William Shakespeare, Robert Burns and assorted Greek goddesses to their position above the front entrance.

Opened in 1878 as the Royal Princess’s Theatre, the building has been the home of the Citizens Theatre Company since 1945, known for its bold stage productions, its youth and community theatre and participatory arts programmes.

Like many theatres, the Citizens has been continuously adapted over its 147-year history. In 1977 its neoclassical facade was removed following an earlier fire, and in 1989 a new foyer space and studio theatre were added. The current redevelopment, which began in 2018, was undertaken to ensure the building continues to serve the needs of the company and its community in the working-class Gorbals area, south of the river Clyde.

Connection, accessibility, sustainability

The redevelopment and restoration of older theatres such as the Citizens has become important as their social value and anchoring presence in towns and cities has been recognised. And of course it makes better sense environmentally and economically to reimagine and modernise old buildings than construct new ones.

Recent trends in redevelopments such as the Citizens provide insights into our shifting cultural values. Theatres are being renovated and redeveloped to make them more accessible and inclusive, more energy efficient and more flexible, while also keeping their history and heritage at the heart of the project.

Accessibility is a key feature of the redeveloped Citizens, reflecting the importance of the theatre as a place for social connection, community and inclusion. Attention has been focused on connecting the theatre to its urban environment, and improving the physical accessibility of audience spaces through step-free entrances, better circulation and lifts. Audiences will also be able to glimpse views of backstage activities.

Theatres increasingly serve an expanded social role with cafes, bars and spaces for exhibitions, not to mention education and participation programmes. Redesigned foyers signal this spatially, reinvented as public spaces. The Bristol Old Vic, which reopened in 2021, has a substantial new foyer which connects the existing theatre to the street, serves as a social space and can house events and performances.

Energy efficiency measures and lower carbon emissions are another factor in recent redevelopments, reflecting the need to address the climate emergency. According to a 2008 report by the Greater London Authority, around 80% of carbon emissions produced by London’s theatres come from building operation. Lowering energy consumption through energy efficiency measures like insulation, passive ventilation, and lighting controls are increasingly common.

Even relatively modern civic theatres from the late 20th century are hugely inefficient compared with contemporary standards and technologies. Theatr Clwyd in Mold, first opened in 1976 and recently refurbished, has replaced gas heating with air-source heat pumps, solar panels and natural ventilation. The renovated theatre now has “green” walls and roofs and has avoided significant use of concrete in favour of more sustainable materials.

Another feature in redeveloping older theatres is the need to design in flexibility so venues can house multiple types of events and also be adaptable for new art forms and technologies. Regular schedules for maintenance and the gradual upgrade of electrical and mechanical systems are being introduced to avoid less frequent, and more costly, redevelopments.

In July 2022 the Sydney Opera House completed a ten-year renewal programme which has seen significant upgrade of its concert hall. New features including movable wooden acoustic panels, automated systems to change the stage level and sound dampening drapes enable it to better accommodate different musical performances and events.

Theatres play an important role in the social and cultural life of towns and cities. The mix of old and new features in the redeveloped Citizens’ Theatre is a final important aspect which is common to all redevelopment projects. Theatres anchor communities, serving as places of memory and sites for the stories which connect us to each other, to the past and to our possible futures.

The reopening of Glasgow’s most famous theatre reflects how we value accessibility, social connection and sustainability. Theatres are never just performance spaces, but rather places which support our shared cultural life. The decisions we are making in their renewal today reveal a positive vision of the cultural life we want to sustain in the years ahead.


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Andrew Filmer 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. Glasgow’s Citizens Theatre reopens: what its seven-year transformation reveals about the future of historic venues – https://theconversation.com/glasgows-citizens-theatre-reopens-what-its-seven-year-transformation-reveals-about-the-future-of-historic-venues-263688

Why Ireland’s mild temperatures won’t protect it from the climate crisis

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Graham J Dwyer, Associate Professor of Social Innovation, Trinity College Dublin

Ever stronger Atlantic storms are slamming into the Irish coast. Guna Ludborza / shutterstock

The island of Ireland has a moderate climate, with few temperature extremes. Its temperature record is still “only” 33°C – almost every other country has been hotter at some point.

But even somewhere with a relatively pleasant and cool climate isn’t immune to the risks of climate change. Recent severe storms like Floris, Bert, Darragh and Eowyn have brought strong winds, more intense floods and a greater risk of blackouts and eroded coastlines.

It’s too soon to definitively link this extreme weather to climate change, but computer models that simulate the climate decades into the future predict stronger storms and more floods. We are already noticing extreme weather happening at unexpected times of year. The sea level is rising and coastlines are eroding at an alarming rate.

Ireland’s position on the edge of the Atlantic – the very reason for its mild climate – makes it especially vulnerable. Those recent severe storms remind us that climate change is a serious threat to wellbeing and, in the longer-term, survival of human life as we know it.

Environmental threats are economic threats

Around 40% of the Irish population lives within a few miles of the coast. That’s where the ports, airports and other infrastructure Ireland’s small open economy depends on are concentrated. Key industries like tourism, fisheries and aquaculture are particularly exposed to disruption.

Downed tree
In 2025, Storm Éowyn left more than a million people without power.
D. Ribeiro / shutterstock

Higher seas and stronger storms are particularly economic and social threats, not just environmental threats. As coastal populations grow, risks to homes, businesses and infrastructure will only escalate.

A government opinion tracking initiative has indicated there is no shortage of climate change awareness in Ireland. But awareness alone has not translated into urgent action. Too often, the conversation around climate change gets stuck on the reliability of electric vehicles or whether wind turbines spoil the view. Such debates miss the point and risk fuelling climate scepticism.

Recognising our human selves as the chief perpetrator of climate change is the first step towards real behavioural change. This means moving away from a linear economy of extraction and waste, towards a circular one based on reusing, repurposing and recycling resources wherever possible.

Building resilience

Scientists have an invaluable role to play here. Given the relatively recent recognition that a climate-driven increase in extreme weather is a serious hazard, Ireland now needs a foundation of relevant evidence to ensure it makes the right decisions about living with and adapting to climate change. This must include robust modelling and predictions about what is in store, particularly around storms and rising seas.

Policymakers must translate this into clear strategies for coping with the risk of flooding – from flood defences and storm-resistant infrastructure to better water management during periods of alternating droughts and downpours.

There is some good news, as some communities are showing resilience in action. For instance, a community initiative called the Maharees Conservation Association is leveraging local knowledge to protect the northern peninsula of Dingle in Kerry – one of the first places Atlantic storms slam into. The area is implementing a coastal erosion management plan and the Dingle Hub, a non-profit community enterprise, is working to turn the region into a low carbon society. Also, social entrepreneurs are not only contributing to lower carbon emissions but they are also educating, facilitating and supporting communities in tackling climate change.

The Irish government too has made a statutory commitment to achieve a “climate-neutral” and climate-resilient economy by 2050: a crucial step in a country with one of the larger carbon footprints in the world. Meanwhile local authorities are leading campaigns on circular economies, energy use, and are establishing climate action regional offices to focus on climate change.

Ireland cannot hold back the seas or calm the storms. But it can decide how to respond – through stronger science, smarter policy and, above all, collective responsibility.

As sea levels rise, storms surge and flooding increases there is a need for us all to find ways of being part of climate solutions rather than merely being part of the problem.


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The Conversation

Graham J Dwyer is Co-Director, Trinity Centre for Social Innovation. He receives funding from the Australian Research Council. He is affiliated with the University of Melbourne.

Karen Helen Wiltshire is Professor of Climate Sciences and receives funding from Trinity College Dublin (TCD). She holds the TCD-CRH Chair of Climate Science. She is affiliated with the Alfred Wegener Institute Helmholtz Center for Polar and Marine Science and the University of Kiel in Germany. She is the Chief Author in the UNEP GEO 07. Chapter 5 Oceans and Coasts.

ref. Why Ireland’s mild temperatures won’t protect it from the climate crisis – https://theconversation.com/why-irelands-mild-temperatures-wont-protect-it-from-the-climate-crisis-259070

Can AI teach us how animals think?

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Shelley Brady, Postdoctoral Researcher in Animal Behaviour, Assistive Technology and Epilepsy, Dublin City University

How is an animal feeling at a given moment? Humans have long recognised certain well-known behaviour like a cat hissing as a warning, but in many cases we’ve had little clue of what’s going on inside an animal’s head.

Now we have a better idea, thanks to a Milan-based researcher who has developed an AI model that he claims can detect whether their calls express positive or negative emotions. Stavros Ntalampiras’s deep-learning model, which was published in Scientific Reports, can recognise emotional tones across seven species of hoofed animals, including pigs, goats and cows. The model picks up on shared features of their calls, such as pitch, frequency range and tonal quality.

The analysis showed that negative calls tended to be more mid to high frequency, while positive calls were spread more evenly across the spectrum. In pigs, high-pitched calls were especially informative, whereas in sheep and horses the mid-range carried more weight, a sign that animals share some common markers of emotion but also express them in ways that vary by species.

For scientists who have long tried to untangle animal signals, this discovery of emotional traits across species is the latest leap forward in a field that is being transformed by AI.

The implications are far-reaching. Farmers could receive earlier warnings of livestock stress, conservationists might monitor the emotional health of wild populations remotely, and zookeepers could respond more quickly to subtle welfare changes.

This potential for a new layer of insight into the animal world also raises ethical questions. If an algorithm can reliably detect when an animal is in distress, what responsibility do humans have to act? And how do we guard against over-generalisation, where we assume that all signs of arousal mean the same thing in every species?

Of barks and buzzes

Tools like the one devised by Ntalampiras are not being trained to “translate” animals in a human sense, but to detect behavioural and acoustic patterns too subtle for us to perceive unaided.

Similar work is underway with whales, where New York-based research organisation Project Ceti (the Cetacean Translation Initiative) is analysing patterned click sequences called codas. Long believed to encode social meaning, these are now being mapped at scale using machine learning, revealing patterns that may correspond to each whale’s identity, affiliation or emotional state.

In dogs, researchers are linking facial expressions, vocalisations and tail-wagging patterns with emotional states. One study showed that subtle shifts in canine facial muscles correspond to fear or excitement. Another found that tail-wag direction varies depending on whether a dog encounters a familiar friend or a potential threat.

At Dublin City University’s Insight Centre for Data Analytics, we are developing a detection collar worn by assistance dogs which are trained to recognise the onset of a seizure in people who suffer from epilepsy. The collar uses sensors to pick up on a dog’s trained behaviours, such as spinning, which raise the alarm that their owner is about to have a seizure.

The project, funded by Research Ireland, strives to demonstrate how AI can leverage animal communication to improve safety, support timely intervention, and enhance quality of life. In future we aim to train the model to recognise instinctive dog behaviours such as pawing, nudging or barking.

Honeybees, too, are under AI’s lens. Their intricate waggle dances – figure-of-eight movements that indicate food sources – are being decoded in real time with computer vision. These models highlight how small positional shifts influence how well other bees interpret the message.

Caveats

These systems promise real gains in animal welfare and safety. A collar that senses the first signs of stress in a working dog could spare it from exhaustion. A dairy herd monitored by vision-based AI might get treatment for illness hours or days sooner than a farmer would notice.

Detecting a cry of distress is not the same as understanding what it means, however. AI can show that two whale codas often occur together, or that a pig’s squeal shares features with a goat’s bleat. The Milan study goes further by classifying such calls as broadly positive or negative, but even this remains using pattern recognition to try to decode emotions.

Emotional classifiers risk flattening rich behaviours into crude binaries of happy/sad or calm/stressed, such as logging a dog’s tail wag as “consent” when it can sometimes signal stress. As Ntalampiras notes in his study, pattern recognition is not the same as understanding.

One solution is for researchers to develop models that integrate vocal data with visual cues, such as posture or facial expression, and even physiological signals such as heart rate, to build more reliable indicators of how animals are feeling. AI models are also going to be most reliable when interpreted in context, alongside the knowledge of someone experienced with the species.

It’s also worth bearing in mind that the ecological price of listening is high. Using AI adds carbon costs that, in fragile ecosystems, undercut the very conservation goals they claim to serve. It’s therefore important that any technologies genuinely serve animal welfare, rather than simply satisfying human curiosity.

Whether we welcome it or not, AI is here. Machines are now decoding signals that evolution honed long before us, and will continue to get better at it.

The real test, though, is not how well we listen, but what we’re prepared to do with what we hear. If we burn energy decoding animal signals but only use the information to exploit them, or manage them more tightly, it’s not science that falls short – it’s us.

The Conversation

Shelley Brady 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. Can AI teach us how animals think? – https://theconversation.com/can-ai-teach-us-how-animals-think-263545

Topshop’s return to the high street must appeal to gen-Z to succeed

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Rose Marroncelli, Lecturer, Nottingham Trent University

During the 2000s and 2010s, Topshop was a fashion powerhouse – an icon of the British high street. A combination of music, make-up and the latest fashions allowed the retailer to thrive in popularity. And high profile celebrity collaborations with model Kate Moss and singer Beyoncé also raised Topshop’s profile in a crowded retail market.

The retailer was renowned for being “cool”, fostering design collaborations with up-and-coming designers, including JW Anderson, Marques’ Almedia and Christopher Kane. The models which fronted campaigns were also “it girls”, such as models Lily Cole and Cara Delevinge and actor Kate Bosworth.

The brand’s success, however, did not prove sustainable. In 2020, its owner, the Arcadia group, entered administration and all physical stores closed shortly thereafter. The brand’s reputation was further damaged by allegations of financial mishandling surrounding its owner, Sir Philip Green. Green was also accused of poor treatment towards Arcadia staff, but has always denied any unlawful behaviour.

The online retailer, Asos, acquired Topshop in 2021 and continued to sell its clothes online. However, in 2024, Asos sold a 75% stake of the Topshop brand, in order to repay debts. The majority is now owned by Danish company, Bestseller.

Changing consumer shopping habits, predominantly the rise in online shopping, contributed to Topshop’s downfall. But Topshop was not the only high street retailer that struggled to keep up in the digital age. In recent years, Debenhams, Ted Baker and in mid-August Claire’s have all gone into administration. House of Fraser has also announced multiple store closures. With an ever increasing number of empty units on the high street, the news that Topshop is planning a return, with physical stores, may come as a surprise to some.

Topshop’s relaunch

In August, Topshop returned to the runway with its first catwalk show for seven years, in Trafalgar Square. The show was deemed a success, and “the comeback show of the year”, according to critics including Rolling Stone. Demonstrating the brand’s ability to embrace the digital era, a “see-now, buy-now” approach let audiences shop for pieces instantly. The catwalk show set the backdrop for the relaunch, and Michelle Wilson, managing director of Topshop and Topman, then confirmed to BBC News that standalone stores would be returning to the high street.

Can this high street plan be a success? The same struggles exist as they did when Topshop closed all physical stores in 2020. High rents and running costs remain a challenge, and the popularity of online shopping continues to grow.

Online brands such as Temu and Shein offer the latest styles at low prices. This is known as “ultra-fast fashion”, and appeals to younger consumers.

However, research has suggested that gen-Z are becoming sensitive to the issue of unsustainable production practices, which are widely reported at both brands. It may be the case that in an increasingly digital world, there remains a need for physical retail spaces, where consumers can touch garments and interact with their peers.

The Topshop relaunch catwalk.

Global market research firm, Mintel, notes how successful retail spaces are evolving to provide more than just products; this is known as experiential retail. This includes creating spaces for socialising, learning and community events. Gymshark is an example of an online active-wear brand that followed these retail recommendations when opening its flagship store in Regent Street, London, in 2023. In addition to garments, the Regent Street store offers gym classes, running clubs and personal training sessions..

Can Topshop create a new physical space which consumers will want to pay repeat visits? The original consumer base from the 2000s and 2010s have now grown up, and are in a different life phase. However, research has shown that consumers can display strong emotional connections with retro brands, which may work for Topshop.

A successful return to the high street will hinge on its ability to balance nostalgia with innovation. Reviving emotional connections with its original audience while resonating with gen-Z will be crucial. If the brand can combine the latest fashions with sustainability, experiential retail and digital integration, it does have the potential to thrive once more.


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The Conversation

Rose Marroncelli 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. Topshop’s return to the high street must appeal to gen-Z to succeed – https://theconversation.com/topshops-return-to-the-high-street-must-appeal-to-gen-z-to-succeed-263567

Remembering the second world war’s Burma campaign with the descendants of Japanese fighters on the 80th anniversary of VJ day

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Kyoko Murakami, Lecturer in psychology, University of Westminster, London, University of Westminster

To mark 80 years since the end of the second world war, a group of ten Japanese people whose fathers and grandfathers once fought against the British travelled to the UK to mark victory over Japan day (VJ day). The story of their ancestors is one that is often forgotten. These men fought during the Burma campaign between 1942 and 1945 – one of the most brutal but often overlooked episodes of the war.

The Burma Campaign Society’s (BCS) Japan branch hope to shed light on this episode by fusing personal memory with national histories. Their efforts are not only about remembering Japan’s past, but also about confronting the complex legacy of their families’ roles in it.

The Burma campaign was a gruelling battle between the Japanese imperial army and Allied forces, predominantly British, Indian, Chinese and American troops. Fought in then Burma, now Myanmar, it was marked by some of the toughest conditions of the war, fighting through disease-ridden jungles, during torrential monsoons across near-impossible terrain. For the men who fought there, it was a struggle for survival in one of the most hostile battlefields of the war.

On Friday August 15, the BCS group attended the national commemorative ceremony, Remembering VJ Day 80 Years On, at the National Memorial Arboretum in Staffordshire. The group, aged from 12 to 78, paid their respects and forged connections with surviving British veterans and descendants of the fallen in Burma. Their work is personal: each member can trace their lineage to soldiers who served, and in some cases died, in Burma. The purpose of their visit is to extend to the UK their work of “irei” – a Japanese word which means to console the spirits of the fallen; to pray for the repose of their souls for those who made the ultimate sacrifice in war.

Two years ago, BCS members held “irei-sai”, memorial services, in Tokyo and other locations in Japan, inviting British veterans and family members to join with Japanese and dignitaries from former allied countries.

In the special VJ Day 80th anniversary ceremony this year, BCS members prayed on British soil for the repose of the souls of the victims. They did so at the memorials and monuments including the Burma memorial, Chindit memorial and Thai Burma railway memorial.

Participating in the VJ Day ceremony was emotional for all concerned. BCS members were initially apprehensive about attending the historic ceremony as citizens of the former foe. They did not know what to expect or how the British would treat them.

Takuya Imasato (47) said he wanted his child to experience how the war is interpreted and commemorated in Britain. He commented that: “I did not feel any bitterness or animosities toward us.”

Another of the Japanese descendants at the ceremony, Hiroaki Fujimori (64), said some of the British people there approached him and shook hands, hugged him or even kissed him on the cheek: “I felt an overwhelming send of welcome and kindness.”

Colonel Yoshiaki Himeda (56), of the Japanese Self Defence Force, said the ceremony was quite different from what he was used to in Japan: “I was so surprised to experience a ceremony that was inclusive, acknowledging the diversity of Britain.” He continued, “It is as if a symbolic wall of the foe or friend quickly dissolved when I, in JDF uniform, saluted the military personnel and veterans in uniforms or with medals. There was more of a silent recognition, we were both children of men who endured something terrible.”

The chairperson of BCS, Akiko Macdonald (74), who lives in the UK, said she was delighted with how the visit went. “Until now, I felt like I was alone, leading the society’s work of irei in the UK with the UK Burma veterans. My father survived, but in his post-war years, he suffered from the survivor’s guilt and PTSD like those who repatriated to Japan. In postwar Japan, if one returns home alive, he is not a war hero and is made to feel ashamed.”

Intercultural dialogue

Many BCS members grew up with fragmented stories, often whispered about, but rarely discussed openly in postwar Japan. Wartime service, especially in campaigns marked by atrocities, was long treated with silence. Families often avoided the topic, torn between pride in their relatives’ endurance and discomfort over Japan’s imperial ambitions.

Showing me a photograph of her father, who, in his later years, trained to be a Burmese Buddhist monk, Yoshiko Fujiwara (70) reflected on the meaning of her irei work. She told me: “I accompanied my father, who worked tirelessly to achieve reconciliation and the reconstruction of Myanmar, helped build memorials and kept a detailed record of my father’s involvement in the battles. I felt duty-bound to succeed in his legacy of irei and to share the facts and personal memories.”

“We cannot change what happened, but we can listen, remember, and share. If my father fought in the atrocious conditions of Burma, perhaps our task is to fight against forgetting and to pay respect to those sacrificed for us,” Fujiwara explained. She told me his loss was huge for her family and that they knew little about what he experienced during his campaign. “Now, as his descendants, we feel it is our duty to tell the story – not to glorify, nor to be ashamed, but to understand and have dialogues.”

Bob White, the curator of the Kohima Museum in York told me how Burma is rarely mentioned in history books, which tend to focus on larger battles in the pacific. “My father, a British Burma veteran, spoke very little about his own experience in Burma. What makes these descendants’ work so valuable is that they bring in personal testimony – letters, diaries, memories passed down – that humanise an otherwise forgotten front,” he explained.

BCS’s irei journey remains committed to its mission. Yoshihiro Sekiba (75), whose father fought as an army doctor in Burma, wants to set up a scheme for a UK-Japan student exchange. BCS chair Akiko Macdonald is hoping to build on this historic attendance at the VJ Day commemoration in the UK, creating an archival learning centre in Japan that will allow descendants worldwide to upload family documents and testimonies related to the campaign. The aim is to make the Burma Campaign not just a footnote in history books, but a living, shared memory.

As the world marks the 80th anniversary of the end of the war, the voices of descendants of those who fought are reminders that conflict echoes across generations. It’s not distant history, but exists as stories that continue to shape identity, reconciliation, and the fragile pursuit of peace.


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The Conversation

Kyoko Murakami, PhD works for the University of Westminster. She is affiliated with the Burma Campaign Society.

ref. Remembering the second world war’s Burma campaign with the descendants of Japanese fighters on the 80th anniversary of VJ day – https://theconversation.com/remembering-the-second-world-wars-burma-campaign-with-the-descendants-of-japanese-fighters-on-the-80th-anniversary-of-vj-day-263699

Why a new ‘iron curtain’ is being built across Europe. This time it’s to keep Russia out

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Natasha Lindstaedt, Professor in the Department of Government, University of Essex

In 1946, Winston Churchill announced an “iron curtain” had descended across Europe “from Stettin in the Baltic, to Trieste in the Adriatic”. This time it is the west that is building the barriers.

Every European nation bordering Russia and its ally Belarus is accelerating plans to construct hundreds of miles of fortified border to defend against possible Russian aggression.

The reasons are clear. The post-cold war European security framework – which relied on strengthening international institutions and trade, Nato expansion and US military guarantees – is being eroded.

Finland

Sharing an 832-mile border with Russia, Finland proposed building a wall in 2023 that would cover about 15% of its border, costing over US$400 million (£297 million) and with hopes that it will be completed by 2026.

Motivated in part by Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022, but also due to a rise of Russians fleeing to Finland to escape conscription. Finland’s government passed a law in July 2023 to build stronger and taller fences, as the previous wooden fences were designed only to prevent livestock from crossing. Eight border posts were erected (including north of the Arctic Circle) alongside greater obstacles in the southernmost strip of the country.

There are even defences being erected in remote areas of north-eastern Finland, where in the not-too-distant past, a steady flow of Russian and Finns would regularly come and go across the border to buy groceries.

Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania and Poland

And Finland is not the first. In August 2015, Estonia announced that it would build a fence along its eastern border with Russia, after Moscow’s 2014 annexation of Crimea.

In 2024, the Baltic states and Poland proposed to further fortify their borders with a defensive wall. It would cover 434 miles, costing over £2 billion. Plans and construction are now speeding up as leaders of the Baltic states worry that the prospects of a ceasefire between Ukraine and Russia could mean Moscow redirects its military towards them.

A map of Russia's borders with the Baltic states.

Shutterstock

Latvia will invest about US$350 million over the next few years to reinforce its 240-mile border with Russia, while Lithuania is planning a 30-mile defence line against a possible Russian invasion. Poland has started building a permanent fence on its border with Belarus as part of its defence against Moscow’s potential allies.

These walls will also be accompanied by other physical barriers such as antitank ditches, 15-tonne concrete dragon’s teeth (which can stop Russian tanks advancing), massive concrete blocks and pyramids, roadblocks, massive metal gates, mined fields and blocked bridgeheads.

Lithuania is planning up to 30 miles of reclamation ditches, bridges prepared for bombing and trees designated to fall on roads when necessary.

The Baltic states are also building more than 1,000 bunkers, ammunition depots and supply shelters to further protect the 600 miles of territory that borders Russia. Bunkers are expected to be about 377 square feet, capable of housing up to ten soldiers and being able to withstand artillery strikes from Russia.

In 1946, Winston Churchill made a speech about the Soviet building an ‘iron curtain’ across Europe.

The Baltic nations plus Finland and Poland also all announced in 2025 that they would withdraw from the 1997 international treaty banning antipersonnel landmines, while Lithuania revoked its pledge to a cluster bomb treaty. Poland announced in June 2025 that it had added minefields to its “East Shield” border plans.

Building a drone wall

These border defences will be using the latest technology and early warning systems and artillery units. Lithuania Latvia, Estonia, Poland, Finland and Norway met in Riga in 2024 to begin plans to build a 1,850-mile “drone wall” to protect their borders.

This drone wall will have a sensor network, consisting of radars and electronic warfare tools to identify and destroy Russian drones. Within seconds of detecting a target crossing the border, there would be a system of close reconnaissance of drones.

This project will require a great deal of cooperation among participating states. Estonian companies are already designing drones that can both detect and neutralise threats along complex terrain in lakes, swamps and forests that blanket Russia’s border with the Baltic countries.

Historical parallels

Both cooperation from all countries that border Russia in Europe and an understanding of the terrain is critical to avoid the failures of the Maginot Line, part of a set of defensive barriers that France built along its borders in the 1930s, and which failed to prevent a German invasion in the second world war. In that case, it was assumed that the Germans could not pass through the Ardennes forest in Belgium.

While the Maginot Line fortifications did cause the Germans to rethink their plan of attack, Belgium was left vulnerable. Today, European nations are aware that they cannot fully prevent a Russian attack, but they can, possibly, shape the nature of a Russian invasion. The goal of these barriers is both deterrence and to try to control the location of any invasion.

If a ceasefire between Ukraine and Russia is announced, the leaders of the Baltic nations fear the Kremlin could redeploy troops to their borders.

Countries neighbouring Russia are trying to be as prepared as possible for whatever Vladimir Putin might do next.

The Conversation

Natasha Lindstaedt 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 a new ‘iron curtain’ is being built across Europe. This time it’s to keep Russia out – https://theconversation.com/why-a-new-iron-curtain-is-being-built-across-europe-this-time-its-to-keep-russia-out-263652

Why gold may be losing its shine as a safe-haven investment

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By David McMillan, Professor in Finance, University of Stirling

TSViPhoto/Shutterstock

The price of gold reached a historic high in April and remains close to that value. Conventional investing wisdom puts gold as a “safe-haven” asset – one that investors move towards in times of crises as they desert higher-risk assets such as stocks. But in August, the S&P 500 stock index also hit a record high and, like gold, it too remains close to this value.

Historically, those who follow these markets would have expected gold and stock prices to move in opposite directions. This typically produced the “hedging” effect of gold – it would offset losses (and gains) from stocks.

But while “safe” gold and “risky” stocks rise at the same time, the value of gold as a more secure bet in times of strife could be diminishing.

Looking at the price of gold historically shows that it rose in response to the oil price shocks of the 1970s as the global economy fell towards recession. It fell during the late 1990s as stock markets boomed, and as the global economy recovered after 2009.

But since this point, it has shown a trajectory largely in common with stocks. New research I was involved in looked at several reasons these traditionally opposing forces have been converging – and causing gold’s safe-haven effect to fade.

Right now, the global economy is emerging from a period of high inflation and high interest rates. Central banks are reducing interest rates (with more cuts expected), which will encourage household spending and business investment.

Economic growth figures are generally trending upwards, as are corporate earnings. And there is positive sentiment within economies about the potential of AI and its role in growth and productivity. Together, these factors explain the rise in stock markets.

But geopolitical risks, especially involving Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and tensions in the Middle East (specifically Iran and attacks by Houthis in the Red Sea) are causing concern for stocks and the wider economy. Both can have significant effects on major international commodities (such as oil and food prices).

And there is risk too from US president Donald Trump’s trade policies. This is especially true given his unpredictability, with tariffs increased and then paused before being reinstated at different levels to those previously announced.

Both these hostilities and Trump’s trade policies create risk and uncertainty within the international economy. This would explain why investors might consider buying gold – making it more valuable.

But this does not fully explain why it is so much in demand and trading close to its all-time high. To understand this, we need to look a bit further back.

Rising demand

After the dotcom crash in the early 2000s, commodities like gold began to be treated (and traded) like other financial assets. Key in this was the development of exchange-traded funds (ETFs), with the first gold ETF launched in 2004. These allow investors to essentially buy a share in gold.

Since then, the number of gold ETFs has risen dramatically, especially after the global financial crisis. Now gold may be traded like any other asset and can become a staple of investment portfolios. Demand for these funds has been surging recently.

On top of this, the US dollar’s status as the world’s currency is under threat. Currently, it acts as a reserve currency for central banks and the vehicle for trade and international payments, including for major commodities. But some countries have increasingly questioned this status quo, considering whether they should trade commodities like oil in their own currencies.

gilded trump high rise hotel in las vegas
For some, gold will never go out of style.
James.Pintar/Shutterstock

Trump, and the uncertainty he causes, only makes these calls grow louder. As such, these doubts about the status of the dollar have led central banks to buy more gold as an alternative reserve asset.

Since the end of the global financial crisis in 2009 and especially for the past ten years, gold has broadly followed the same path as stocks. While there will always be deviations, this effectively means an end of gold as a safe-haven hedge against stock price falls.

Gold is now firmly established as another investment asset, along with stocks, bonds and other commodities. This means that these days, its investment role is as part of a diversified portfolio and not as a hedge.

But that’s not to say that gold has lost its appeal. Its limited supply and desirability for both jewellery and manufacturing are rare and valuable attributes. And with its intrinsic worth recognised all over the world, gold is likely to remain in demand.

The Conversation

David McMillan 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 gold may be losing its shine as a safe-haven investment – https://theconversation.com/why-gold-may-be-losing-its-shine-as-a-safe-haven-investment-263694

The first stars may not have been as uniformly massive as astronomers thought

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Luke Keller, Professor of Physics and Astronomy, Ithaca College

Stars form in the universe from massive clouds of gas. European Southern Observatory, CC BY-SA

For decades, astronomers have wondered what the very first stars in the universe were like. These stars formed new chemical elements, which enriched the universe and allowed the next generations of stars to form the first planets.

The first stars were initially composed of pure hydrogen and helium, and they were massive – hundreds to thousands of times the mass of the Sun and millions of times more luminous. Their short lives ended in enormous explosions called supernovae, so they had neither the time nor raw materials to form planets, and they should no longer exist for astronomers to observe.

At least that’s what we thought.

Two studies published in the first half of 2025 suggest that collapsing gas clouds in the early universe may have formed lower-mass stars as well. One study uses a new astrophysical computer simulation that models turbulence within the cloud, causing fragmentation into smaller, star-forming clumps. The other study – an independent laboratory experiment – demonstrates how molecular hydrogen, a molecule essential for star formation, may have formed earlier and in larger abundances. The process involves a catalyst that may surprise chemistry teachers.

As an astronomer who studies star and planet formation and their dependence on chemical processes, I am excited at the possibility that chemistry in the first 50 million to 100 million years after the Big Bang may have been more active than we expected.

These findings suggest that the second generation of stars – the oldest stars we can currently observe and possibly the hosts of the first planets – may have formed earlier than astronomers thought.

Primordial star formation

Video illustration of the star and planet formation process. Credit: Space Telescope Science Institute.

Stars form when massive clouds of hydrogen many light years across collapse under their own gravity. The collapse continues until a luminous sphere surrounds a dense core that is hot enough to sustain nuclear fusion.

Nuclear fusion happens when two or more atoms gain enough energy to fuse together. This process creates a new element and releases an incredible amount of energy, which heats the stellar core. In the first stars, hydrogen atoms fused together to create helium.

The new star shines because its surface is hot, but the energy fueling that luminosity percolates up from its core. The luminosity of a star is its total energy output in the form of light. The star’s brightness is the small fraction of that luminosity that we directly observe.

This process where stars form heavier elements by nuclear fusion is called stellar nucleosynthesis. It continues in stars after they form as their physical properties slowly change. The more massive stars can produce heavier elements such as carbon, oxygen and nitrogen, all the way up to iron, in a sequence of fusion reactions that end in a supernova explosion.

Supernovae can create even heavier elements, completing the periodic table of elements. Lower-mass stars like the Sun, with their cooler cores, can sustain fusion only up to carbon. As they exhaust the hydrogen and helium in their cores, nuclear fusion stops and the stars slowly evaporate.

Two images showing spherical illustrations. The left shows a star exploding, shooting out colorful tendrils of light and color. The right shows a cloud of gas fading away.
The remnant of a high-mass star supernova explosion imaged by the Chandra X-ray Observatory, left, and the remnant of a low-mass star evaporating in a blue bubble, right.
CC BY

High-mass stars have high pressure and temperature in their cores, so they burn bright and use up their gaseous fuel quickly. They last only a few million years, whereas low-mass stars – those less than two times the Sun’s mass – evolve much more slowly, with lifetimes of billions or even trillions of years.

If the earliest stars were all high-mass stars, then they would have exploded long ago. But if low-mass stars also formed in the early universe, they may still exist for us to observe.

Chemistry that cools clouds

The first star-forming gas clouds, called protostellar clouds, were warm – roughly room temperature. Warm gas has internal pressure that pushes outward against the inward force of gravity trying to collapse the cloud. A hot air balloon stays inflated by the same principle. If the flame heating the air at the base of the balloon stops, the air inside cools and the balloon begins to collapse.

Two bright clouds of gas condensing around a small central region
Stars form when clouds of dust collapse inward and condense around a small, bright, dense core.
NASA, ESA, CSA, and STScI, J. DePasquale (STScI), CC BY-ND

Only the most massive protostellar clouds with the most gravity could overcome the thermal pressure and eventually collapse. In this scenario, the first stars were all massive.

The only way to form the lower-mass stars we see today is for the protostellar clouds to cool. Gas in space cools by radiation, which transforms thermal energy into light that carries the energy out of the cloud. Hydrogen and helium atoms are not efficient radiators below several thousand degrees, but molecular hydrogen, H₂, is great at cooling gas at low temperatures.

When energized, H₂ emits infrared light, which cools the gas and lowers the internal pressure. That process would make gravitational collapse more likely in lower-mass clouds.

For decades, astronomers have reasoned that a low abundance of H₂ early on resulted in hotter clouds whose internal pressure would be too hot to easily collapse into stars. They concluded that only clouds with enormous masses, and therefore higher gravity, would collapse – leaving more massive stars.

Helium hydride

In a July 2025 journal article, physicist Florian Grussie and collaborators at the Max Planck Institute for Nuclear Physics demonstrated that the first molecule to form in the universe, helium hydride, HeH⁺, could have been more abundant in the early universe than previously thought. They used a computer model and conducted a laboratory experiment to verify this result.

Helium hydride? In high school science you probably learned that helium is a noble gas, meaning it does not react with other atoms to form molecules or chemical compounds. As it turns out, it does – but only under the extremely sparse and dark conditions of the early universe, before the first stars formed.

HeH⁺ reacts with hydrogen deuteride – HD, which is one normal hydrogen atom bonded to a heavier deuterium atom – to form H₂. In the process, HeH⁺ also acts as a coolant and releases heat in the form of light. So, the high abundance of both molecular coolants earlier on may have allowed smaller clouds to cool faster and collapse to form lower-mass stars.

Gas flow also affects stellar initial masses

In another study, published in July 2025, astrophysicist Ke-Jung Chen led a research group at the Academia Sinica Institute of Astronomy and Astrophysics using a detailed computer simulation that modeled how gas in the early universe may have flowed.

The team’s model demonstrated that turbulence, or irregular motion, in giant collapsing gas clouds can form lower-mass cloud fragments from which lower-mass stars condense.

The study concluded that turbulence may have allowed these early gas clouds to form stars either the same size or up to 40 times more massive than the Sun’s mass.

A clump of small bright dots representing stars, shown near a bright spot in the center of the image.
The galaxy NGC 1140 is small and contains large amounts of primordial gas with far fewer elements heavier than hydrogen and helium than are present in our Sun. This composition makes it similar to the intensely star-forming galaxies found in the early universe. These early universe galaxies were the building blocks for large galaxies such as the Milky Way.
ESA/Hubble & NASA, CC BY-ND

The two new studies both predict that the first population of stars could have included low-mass stars. Now, it is up to us observational astronomers to find them.

This is no easy task. Low-mass stars have low luminosities, so they are extremely faint. Several observational studies have recently reported possible detections, but none are yet confirmed with high confidence. If they are out there, though, we will find them eventually.

The Conversation

Luke Keller 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 first stars may not have been as uniformly massive as astronomers thought – https://theconversation.com/the-first-stars-may-not-have-been-as-uniformly-massive-as-astronomers-thought-263016

A straight face, with a wink – the subtle humor of deadpan photography

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Emilia Mickevicius, Norton Family Assistant Curator of Photography, University of Arizona

Installation view of ‘Funny Business: Photography and Humor,’ Phoenix Art Museum, 2025. Katie Jones-Weinert, CC BY-SA

Deadpan is not so much a type of joke as a mode of delivery, a manner of address to an audience that often provokes nervous laughter.

Comedian Nathan Fielder’s persona is marked by deadpan. In his hit HBO comedy series “The Rehearsal,” he maintains a blank facial expression as he listens to contestants fumble their auditions for “Wings of Voice,” his fake reality singing competition. He takes the task of donning the guise of an adult-size infant very seriously, in order to relive the childhood of heroic pilot Sully Sullenberger. His voice is steady and monotone as he converses with a male pilot who cluelessly describes the egregious behavior he’s displayed toward women colleagues.

What makes deadpan feel so off, so destabilizing, so dryly funny?

One reason is that performers – particularly comedians – are expected to be expressive and over the top, or even hint to the audience that they’re supposed to chuckle, similar to a sitcom laugh track.

As I recently organized an exhibition on photography’s relationship to humor, I found myself thinking about how deadpan works in photography. A still, deadpan image might seem like a paradox: Don’t you need a real, live performance? But exploring how photographers have deployed deadpan sheds light on just how powerful and incisive this form of humor can be.

Are you not entertained?

“Pan” was slang for “face” in the 19th century. The genre of deadpan humor was popularized in movies by actor Buster Keaton, whose expressionless, blunt and stilted presence before the camera inspired his nickname, “the Great Stone Face.”

Sprung upon an audience, deadpan can yield a reaction that reveals what philosopher Ted Cohen has described as the “conditional” nature of humor – that it plays into assumptions, expectations and prior knowledge precisely to disrupt them.

Puzzled by the unmet promise of a clear emotion or narrative, the audience laughs uncomfortably at their own bewilderment. The performer’s restraint registers as absurd.

The opposite of postcard perfect

As a medium, photography has historically been burdened by debates over its ability to convey ideas or expression. To early critics, a photograph seemed “mechanical” because it appeared only to reproduce the world, rather than express something new. Compared to drawing or painting, they reasoned, the camera could merely copy.

But I would argue that for these very reasons, photography is a rich lens to explore how deadpan works visually. In photography, deadpan doesn’t even need to involve people.

Take the work of Californian photographer Henry Wessel Jr. Known for his decades-long documentation of everyday life in California, Wessel was one of 10 photographers featured in the watershed 1975 exhibition “New Topographics” at the George Eastman Museum in Rochester, New York, which trained a lens on landscapes altered by humans rather than nature alone – think gas stations, parking lots and tract homes instead of national parks.

Yet the shift Wessel and the other photographers initiated did not simply concern subject matter, but the manner in which they presented it: coolly, at least by the standards of iconic landscape. Previously, photographers such as Ansel Adams had infused their pictures with drama and contrast to provoke the same reverence that they felt toward nature’s beauty. Museumgoers were accustomed to seeing these kinds of landscapes: picturesque and sublime, featuring sprawling mountain ranges and billowing clouds rendered in dramatic tonal ranges.

By contrast, Wessel photographed suburbia in the American West – and with irreverent affection. He composed his images with mock casualness and printed in a narrow tonal range, as if yielding to the leveling quality of the bright sunlight on the stucco and concrete.

This was puzzling; Wessel’s pictures seemed worlds away from fine art landscape photography. They resisted awe and transcendence in favor of dry bemusement. By 1970s standards, his subject matter and aesthetic were equivalents of deadpan’s monotone. Who in their right mind would make the effort to take such a plain picture of a humdrum house?

Yet by adopting this style, Wessel encouraged audiences to pay greater attention to their immediate surroundings: to read front porches, carports and landscaping as evidence of people’s lifestyles and values. His photographs demonstrate the wealth of information that lurks in the mundane.

To Wessel, the seemingly mundane was brimming with intrigue.

Why so serious?

Other photographers have marshaled deadpan to explore themes of identity and belonging.

Tseng Kwong Chi was a prominent personality in the East Village art scene in the 1980s and a friend of pop artist Keith Haring. In his landmark series of proto-selfies, “East Meets West,” the Hong Kong-born artist used a funny personal experience as the point of departure.

Dining at Windows on the World, the restaurant atop the North Tower of the World Trade Center, Tseng decided to wear a Zhongshan suit, or “Mao suit,” as it was known in the West, due to its association with the former Chinese leader Mao Zedong.

The restaurant’s staff treated him as a dignitary, inspiring Tseng to embark upon what ultimately became over 100 self-portraits in which he appeared in this guise of an “ambiguous ambassador.” In the series, Tseng appears in front of popular tourist destinations – Disneyland, Mount Rushmore, Cape Canaveral, Paramount Studios – but never cracks a smile. Goofy hams it up for the camera as Tseng’s suit and serious expression subvert the conventions of tourist snapshots.

In doing so, “East Meets West” deploys deadpan to tell a broader story about the search for belonging as an immigrant and a queer person of color.

Similarly, in his series “Entering Zig’s Indian Reservation,” Zig Jackson adopts a caricature-like persona to both mock and resist Native American stereotypes.

Jackson was the first member of his family to leave their reservation in North Dakota. He spent time in various western states before enrolling as a photography student at the San Francisco Art Institute in the early 1990s.

Early in his time there, as he went for a jog in the city’s sprawling Golden Gate Park, he heard grunting bison from the nearby paddock, a beloved San Francisco landmark since 1892. Jackson felt simultaneously at home and homesick, like he was “among relatives.”

Wearing a war bonnet, or feathered headdress – an item of regalia that is often appropriated by white people “playing Indian” – he returned to the site to “claim the buffalo as my own,” as he explained to me in an email.

In the image, Jackson meets the camera with an expressionless gaze, sitting next to a sign he made to mark his fictive reservation. This and other works from this series are deadpan: Jackson’s headdress registers as jarring with his street clothes, and the rules spelled out on the sign – including “NO PICTURE TAKING” and “NEW AGERS PROHIBITED” – read as tongue in cheek. But the photographs are also melancholy visualizations of feeling out of place.

The matter with fact

Sometimes I find myself wondering whether photography itself is inherently deadpan. It possesses a built-in bluntness that registers as absurd or confusing in certain contexts.

For her series “Skirts,” British conceptual artist Clare Strand rented banquet tables from a commercial catering company, covered them with linens and photographed them one by one. She then presented the images as a grid, as if they were specimens.

The viewer might initially assume that there is some sort of overarching narrative: Are they for a party? An award ceremony?

But Strand provides no answers. All dressed up with nowhere to go, the tables show that to photograph something is to transform it: In anointing an object, person or scene as worthy of being singled out, the photographer confers importance on it. From there, the viewer is left to fill in the blanks.

Scholar Heather Diack has argued that conceptual artists have subverted photography’s purported straightforwardness by making photographs that don’t simply copy or “capture” reality. Their work shows how photographs are anything but natural, literal or transparent.

Yet because people tend to associate photography with objectivity, it renders the medium ripe for deadpan humor – for crafting the appearance of a “straight face,” but with a wink.

The Conversation

Emilia Mickevicius 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. A straight face, with a wink – the subtle humor of deadpan photography – https://theconversation.com/a-straight-face-with-a-wink-the-subtle-humor-of-deadpan-photography-258454

Misunderstood Malthus: The English thinker whose name is synonymous with doom and gloom has lessons for today

Source: The Conversation – USA (3) – By Roy Scranton, Associate Professor of English, University of Notre Dame

A portrait of Thomas Malthus by John Linnell. Wellcome Collection via Wikimedia Commons, CC BY

No one uses “Malthusian” as a compliment. Since 1798, when the economist and cleric Thomas Malthus first published “An Essay on the Principles of Population,” the “Malthusian” position – the idea that humans are subject to natural limits – has been vilified and scorned. Today, the term is lobbed at anyone who dares question the optimism of infinite progress.

Unfortunately, almost everything most people think they know about Malthus is wrong.

The story goes like this: Once upon a time, an English country parson came up with the idea that population increases at a “geometrical” rate, while food production increases at an “arithmetical” rate. That is, population doubles every 25 years, while crop yields increase much more slowly. Over time, such divergence must lead to catastrophe.

But Malthus identified two factors that reduced reproduction and held off disaster: moral codes, or what he called “preventative checks,” and “positive checks,” such as extreme poverty, pollution, war, disease and misogyny. In the all-too-common caricature, Malthus was a narrow-minded clergyman who was bad at math and thought the only solution to hunger was to keep poor people poor so they had fewer babies.

Understanding Malthus in a broader context reveals a very different character. As I discuss in my 2025 book “Impasse: Climate Change and the Limits of Progress,” Malthus was an innovative and insightful thinker. Not only was he one of the founding figures of environmental economics, but he also turned out to be a prophetic critic of the belief that history tends toward human improvement, which we call progress.

God and science

On the topic of progress, Malthus knew what he was talking about.

He was raised and educated by dissenters: progressivist English Protestants who advocated the separation of church and state. He was taught by the radical abolitionist Gilbert Wakefield, and his father was a friend and admirer of the Enlightenment philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau, whose ideas helped inspire the French Revolution.

Despite struggling with a cleft palate, Malthus distinguished himself at Cambridge, where he studied applied math, history and geography. Going into the clergy was a common choice for educated young men of middling means, and Malthus was able to secure a parsonage in Wotton, Surrey. But that didn’t mean giving up his interest in social science.

An Essay on the Principle of Population” was shaped by Malthus’ theological views, but it is also a deeply empirical work and became more so as he revised it in later editions. His argument about geometrical and arithmetical growth rates, for instance, was based on the rapid population growth witnessed in the American Colonies.

A painting in muted colors of a handful of people working in a grain field, as a man sits on a horse nearby.
‘Reapers,’ by 18th-century British artist George Stubbs.
Tate Britain/Yorck Project via Wikimedia Commons

It was also based on what he saw happening around him in Britain. Over the final decades of the 18th century, Britain was wracked by repeated food shortages and riots. The population rose from 5.9 million to 8.7 million, an increase of almost 50%, while agricultural production lagged. In 1795, hungry Londoners mobbed King George III’s coach demanding bread.

Boundless optimism

But why was Malthus talking about population in the first place? As Malthus himself explains, his essay was inspired by an argument with a friend about the journalist and novelist William Godwin – best known today as the father of Mary Shelley, author of “Frankenstein.”

Malthus and Godwin had similar backgrounds. Both came from dissenting middle-class families, were educated in progressive schools and began their careers as ministers. But Godwin’s extreme radicalism put him at odds even with his fellow dissenters, and he soon left the pulpit to take up the pen.

The book that made Godwin’s name and provoked Malthus was “An Enquiry Concerning Political Justice,” published in 1793. Today, it is considered a founding text of philosophical anarchism. Originally, however, Godwin’s “Enquiry” was seen as a thunderous articulation of Enlightenment progressivism.

A dark, painted portrait of a brown-haired man, seen from the side.
A portrait of William Godwin by James Northcote, now in the National Portrait Gallery in London.
Dea Picture Library/De Agostini via Getty Images

Godwin argued that all social problems could be eliminated by reason’s proper application. He advocated abolishing marriage, redistributing property and eliminating government. What’s more, he asserted that progress led inevitably to a utopian world, where humans will no longer have to reproduce because we’ll be immortal:

“There will be no war, no crimes, no administration of justice as it is called, and no government. … But beside this, there will be no disease, no anguish, no melancholy and no resentment. Every man will seek with ineffable ardour the good of all.”

Such things would come about in due time, Godwin assured his readers, solely through the spread of rational discussion.

From his poverty-stricken parsonage in Wotton, Malthus saw things differently. Historian Robert Mayhew describes Wotton at the time as an industrial wasteland afflicted by “agrarian poverty … high birth rates and short life spans.” Studying history led Malthus to conclude that societies moved not in an ever-ascending line of progress but in cycles of expansion and decline. Godwin’s utopian story didn’t seem to match the evidence.

Reform – within reason

Malthus aimed to puncture Godwin’s grandiloquent progressivism. But he wasn’t saying positive change was impossible, only that it was limited by the laws of nature.

“An Essay on the Principles of Population” was his attempt to ascertain where some of those limits might lie, so that policy could respond to social problems effectively, rather than exacerbating them by trying to achieve the impossible. As a writer and active member of the Whig Party, Malthus was a reformer who advocated free national education, the extension of suffrage, the abolition of slavery and free medical care for the poor, among other programs.

Since then, science and industry have made incredible advances, leading to changes Malthus would have scarcely found credible. When his essay was published, the global human population was around 800 million. Today it is over 8 billion, a tenfold increase in little more than two centuries.

Over that time, proponents of progress have scorned the idea that humans are subject to natural limits and denigrated anyone who questioned the fantasy of infinite growth
as “Malthusian.” Yet Malthus remains important because his pessimistic account of society so clearly articulates an insight that refuses to be repressed: The laws of nature apply to human society.

Indeed, “the Great Acceleration” in human development and impact over the past 80 years may have pushed society to the breaking point. Scientists warn that we’ve exceeded six of the nine boundary conditions for sustainable human life on Earth and are close to exceeding a seventh.

One of those conditions is a stable climate. Global warming threatens to not only raise sea levels, increase wildfires and supercharge storms, but also amplify drought and disrupt global agriculture.

Malthus may not have foreseen the developments that fueled human growth over the past two centuries. But his fundamental insight into the limits of growth has only become more relevant. As we face accelerating global ecological crisis, it may be time to revisit the pessimistic idea that we live in a world with limits. Reconsidering what we mean by “Malthusian” might be a good place to start.

The Conversation

Roy Scranton received funding from the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation.

ref. Misunderstood Malthus: The English thinker whose name is synonymous with doom and gloom has lessons for today – https://theconversation.com/misunderstood-malthus-the-english-thinker-whose-name-is-synonymous-with-doom-and-gloom-has-lessons-for-today-263101