Mountains of fire: what hillwalking with my father taught me about the origins of oil exploration

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Yvonne Reddick, Reader in English Literature and Creative Writing, University of Lancashire

“Far over the misty mountains cold,” Dad read. Every evening before my light was turned out, he read me a story about a hobbit who left his comfortable burrow to journey to the Lonely Mountain. Searching for gold at the mountain’s roots, talking to eagles, scaring wolves off by starting a forest fire, tricking a dragon: these were the tales he read to me.

View of the south-eastern slopes of Braeriach. The River Dee flows out of An Garbh Choire.
By Angus, CC BY-SA

We lived in a granite house on the western edge of Aberdeen. Mum planted rhubarb and runner beans in the garden. Summer holidays meant going to Aviemore, in the lap of the Cairngorm mountains. We’d stay in a wooden chalet, where knots in the pine planks looked down at me like the eyes of owls. We’d always walk near the gentle hill of Craigellachie, fledged with silver birches. I learnt to recognise the mountains: Braeriach with its three scooped-out corries, Cairngorm scarred with ski runs.

Dad knew how to disappear. Some weeks, he’d leave before dawn to take the helicopter out to the North Sea oil platforms. During summer weekends, he’d vanish for the summits of those rounded Cairngorm hills. One day, he marched in through the door with his muddy boots still on, and hoisted his battered blue Berghaus backpack onto the kitchen table, grinning:

I’ve got a surprise for you.

What is it?

He hefted out a football-sized lump of mountain quartz and put it on the table in front of me. It shone white as a glacier.

Dad’s “Munro Book” was a gift from my mum, given shortly after I was born. It was always referred to as the Munro Book, never by its title, and it detailed all of Scotland’s peaks over 3,000 feet high – first charted by the tweedy Victorian baronet, Sir Hugh Munro. Getting to the top of all 282 of them is a popular challenge for hikers. For dad, it was an obsession.

Dad was a hillwalker, but the Munro Book was written by mountaineers. It contained sentences such as: “A pleasantly airy scramble, for which some might prefer the security of a rope.” (I only ever saw Dad attempting a climbing wall once, when the two of us clambered up – and slithered off – orange and green plastic holds at a gym in Scotland.)

He never acquired the paraphernalia that winter hikers (or walkers who fancy themselves as climbers) accumulate: crampons, ice axes, ropes, the ironmongery of nut-keys, hexes and cams. However, he did claim that he scrambled up Ben More on the Isle of Mull via a route he termed “the wrong one”. It was one of his favourite stories.

The Munro Book shared bookshelves with Mountaincraft and Leadership, The Pennine Way, The South Downs Way, The Northern Fells, and 30 battered, pink Ordnance Survey maps in miles and feet.

From the age of nine, dad dragged me out with him. At first, I’d whine about the mud and midges. Later, I felt my heart lifting when I reached a cairn and could see as far as Mull and Skye. I learnt to name the whaleback of Ben Nevis.


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Dad kept a weather-eye on the forecasts. His kit list included: cheese-and-pickle sandwiches; an itchy wool balaclava; a Berghaus waterproof; a survival blanket; a map, compass and GPS; spare batteries in case the ones in the GPS went flat; a second compass, in case the first compass malfunctioned; and the phone number of Mountain Rescue. All of this was crammed into the ancient blue rucksack.

Dad’s love of the outdoors developed alongside his work as an oil reservoir engineer. There are North Sea oilfields named Everest, Banff, Cairngorm and Munro. And the ease with which Dad read charts of mountains and valleys deep below the sea translated into the mathematical precision with which he navigated with map, compass and GPS.

When I was old enough to read for myself, I read The Hobbit and longed to journey through the Misty Mountains: “The mountain smoked beneath the Moon … The trees like torches blazing bright.” I’d never seen a forest fire, but even in rainy Scotland, there were signs that blazes were becoming more frequent. Just south of Loch an Eilein (the loch with the island), you came across bunches of strange brooms and paddles by the path: fire beaters, in case the heather caught alight. Aviemore was a busy ski resort in winter, but the snowline was inching higher and higher up the mountains.

I never worried about Dad. Even when he grumbled about tightness in his chest before his last holiday in the Cairngorms, it never occurred to me that the path could run out so soon.

Peak oil

Mountains rise skywards when one of Earth’s plates collides against another. Deep in the guts of great ranges, rocks fold and buckle. Ancient seabeds, turned to stone, are heaved upwards. The same rock-fold, the anticline, can forge mountains and harbour oil.

The Rockies stand on the largest reservoir of untapped shale oil in the world. The richest oilfields west of Russia are near the Carpathians. Iran’s oil and gas deposits lie at the feet of the Zagros, the high range that transects the country from north-west to south-east. North Sea oilfields are named for Highland mountains: Beinn, Schiehallion, Foinaven.

I look up a 3D schematic of an oil deposit, not unlike the one pictured below. It reminds me of a miniature massif: oil and gas seeping upwards through rock, resembling ice-falls in reverse. In place of a summit scarved with cloud, there’s a pointed deposit of trapped methane gas.

The next zone down, where a mountain’s glaciers would be, is an area on the diagram that is coloured green, showing oil. I look at a seismology map – the kind Mum used to work on in Oman. This time, the image shows a vertical cross-section through layers of rock. Its contours are shallower – more hillock than Himalayan peak. I think of knolls and hill forts – Arnside Knott on the Lancashire coast, or Torside on the shoulder of Bleaklow in the Peaks.

A 3D schematic of the reservoir properties of the Illizi Basin in eastern Algeria.
SEG Wiki, CC BY

Mountains and petroleum share a similar vocabulary. Exploration, frontiers, surveying. I look at graphs of peak oil production and note coincidences with the so-called golden age of mountaineering. 1854-1865: the dawn of a prolific decade of Alpine mountaineering, the time of Edward Whymper and the Matterhorn disaster. 1859: the drilling of the first oil well by the Pennsylvania Rock Oil Company in Titusville. The 1950s and ’60s saw western companies exploiting deposits in the Middle East and South America, leading to my grandfather’s time working in Venezuela and Iran. Expansion to the Earth’s highest peaks; drilling into its rocky depths.

Richard Bass, the first man to climb the “Seven Summits” – the highest peaks on each continent – ran a Texan oil-and-gas business. Black gold funded Bass’s Snowbird ski resort in Utah. The first rope access workers on North Sea oil platforms were climbers and cavers.

Many of dad’s friends found that a youthful passion for rock climbing gave them an intimate knowledge of the character of different kinds of stone, or that reading maps translated easily into mapping the deep layers of Earth’s bedrock. For a geology or engineering graduate with an enjoyment of adventure and a love of travel, a career in oil exploration was an exciting and well-paid career path.

But expanding oil frontiers and summiting the world’s highest peaks bring similar controversies. It is no coincidence that mountaineering exploits and oil extraction share common ground with colonialism, foreign control, nation-building and struggles for self-rule. Local and Indigenous people are determined to protect their land, or want a stake in the wealth of an industry whose history is mired in colonial exploitation.

I think of the far-north of Canada and Alaska – of Athabasca people either fierce in their resistance to the incursions of oil companies under the ice, or wanting their fair share of the industry’s colossal profits. Sherpas, Sherpanis and Nepalis reclaiming Mount Everest after decades of western exploitation, smashing the time records for summit successes.

Murky soot and tiny microplastics from the oil industry touch even the shining Alpine summits that I love. They taint the high snows of Everest. The cataclysmic impact of fires, blowouts and everyday fossil-fuel burning strips them of their ice. Oil is there in the mountains of plastic waste I saw on the outskirts of Himalayan towns. And perhaps the most explosive place where fossil fuels meet mountains is Azerbaijan’s Yanar Dag, which dad visited in 2002 on the back of a drunken horse.

Mountain of Fire

Nightfall in the countryside near Baku. The horses hung their heads in the stalls. Bahram the guide poured beer on their oats. They shook themselves awake, started munching. Dad hauled himself into the stirrups and thudded into the saddle like a sack of gravel: “Don’t drink and ride!” The horses began the slow plod uphill.

Rocks and thirsty thorn-scrub. A wooden bridge over a parched river. Bahram paused, dismounted, lit a cigarette and flicked the ash towards the riverbed. It touched off flame.

Wink of fire through twilight. Whiff of gasoline on the breeze. Flames surged from a blackened fissure in the rocks. Yanar Dag means Mountain of Fire. This fissure has burned for 3,000 years at least. People raised temples where priests tend eternal fires. Did fires like this inspire Zoroastrianism, one of the world’s most ancient faiths? I look up the prophet Zarathustra, glance through Nietzche’s imagining of his words. I read about Zoroastrian fire rituals and trial by flame. I read about sacred fire, symbolising the light of the deity and the illuminated mind.

Dad worked in the Caspian region when I was a teenager, flying to Baku for one week every month. He admired the Flame Tower skyscrapers, relished lamb-and-rice plov. Deals were toasted with copious quantities of vodka. I heard about Shah Deniz, the King of the Sea, a gargantuan gas field under fathoms of rock and water.

Dad longed to hike the ochre-red foothills of the Caucasus, and loved spinning yarns about “Hell’s Doorway”, the crater over a natural gas deposit that burst into flames after a Russian drilling rig collapsed. At garden parties for his colleagues back in the Home Counties, I met Bahram and Mehtab, their daughters Farah and Donya.

The Caspian seabed was tough drilling. One of Dad’s Azeri colleagues showed me a map of the bedrock, riddled with faults. Dad enjoyed the reservoir engineering challenge this posed, in much the same way he relished building Meccano or getting my second-hand Scalextric cars to work.

Forty-eight billion barrels lie under the world’s largest inland water-body. The Caspian is split into four basins; the most southerly is the deepest, divided from the others by the Apsheron Ridge. This anticline linked to the Caucasus Mountains spans the entire Caspian from Baku to Turkmenistan. The Caspian was formed by a complex interplay of plates shifting and rifting.

One of the greatest hazards for oil exploration in the region – apart from the earthquakes – are the mud volcanoes. Found near petroleum deposits and mountainous regions, these bizarre formations belch up methane, creating mucky splatter cones. They may bubble up under a body of water, or erupt on land. The rounder ones on land are known as “mud domes”; the flatter ones are sometimes referred to as “mud pies”.

Dad loved telling stories about them. Soviet scientists wanted to predict their habits, proposing that variable water levels in the Caspian, and even sunspots, might trigger their eruptions. Mud volcanoes are found in the Carpathians, the Caucasus, California, and even in the Gulf of Mexico. Dashli Island in the Caspian Sea is one giant mud volcano which exploded near an oil platform in 2021, erupting flames 500 metres high.

The Caspian region is one of the oldest oil-producing areas in the world. Troops of the emperor Cyrus the Great used Baku’s oil as an incendiary weapon. Caspian oil lit the way for Alexander the Great’s soldiers. Medieval Arab historians and travellers noted the region’s dependence on oil for heating and trade. An inscription from 1593 commemorates a manually-dug oil well near Baku.

Baku has been an oil town for centuries. An enterprising Azeri merchant drilled two oil wells in the Caspian in 1803, likely the world’s first offshore extraction, although a storm made short work of them in 1825. Robert Nobel arrived in Baku in 1873, tasked with finding walnut trees for wood to build rifles for the tsar’s army; instead, he decided to buy an oil refinery. Grainy sepia images of Russian oil production show forests of wooden derricks. In 1898, Franco-Russian filmmaker Alexandre Mishon filmed gushers and blowouts. Russian production of Azeri oil was the most prolific petroleum source on the planet from 1899 to 1901.

Still from Azerbaijani film Bibi Eybat, a 30-second silent film directed by Alexandre Michon in1898.
A. Mishon, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Azerbaijan is the birthplace of many innovations: the first mechanically drilled oil-wells, the first pipelines, the first tankers. Following the collapse of the Soviet Union, competition for oil production partnerships in newly independent Azerbaijan was intense. A deal with BP in 1992 began three decades of exploration and drilling. The offshore platforms became enormous: photos show helipads, flarestacks, workers’ quarters, tangles of pipework. As the shallower oil reserves were exhausted, drilling became more ambitious. The Deepwater Gunashli platform began to pump petroleum from 175 metres below the water’s surface.

After “peak oil” – the height of demand and production – economists predict that we are entering the age of “tough oil”. Deep water, distant locations, greater danger. The oil reserves that dad and his colleagues explored were already becoming increasingly hazardous and hard to reach.

This article was a runner up in The Conversation Prize for writers, run in partnership with Faber and Curtis Brown.

The Conversation

Yvonne Reddick receives funding from a Leverhulme Trust International Fellowship, hosted at UCLA.

ref. Mountains of fire: what hillwalking with my father taught me about the origins of oil exploration – https://theconversation.com/mountains-of-fire-what-hillwalking-with-my-father-taught-me-about-the-origins-of-oil-exploration-250943

My new history of romanticism shows how enslavement shaped European culture

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Mathelinda Nabugodi, Lecturer in Comparative Literature, UCL

Portrait of Madeleine by Marie-Guillemine Benoist (1800). Louvre

According to one strand of history, slavery was abolished when Europeans found their conscience. According to another, it was abolished when it stopped being profitable. Both approaches tend to underplay the significance of Black resistance.

In a revolution that upended ideas about white superiority, the enslaved Black people of the French Caribbean colony Saint-Domingue liberated themselves to create Haiti, the first free Black nation in the Americas. The country was established in 1804, after more than a decade of armed struggle. This historic victory is part of a long series of violent rebellions that regularly shook the Caribbean islands and undermined the transatlantic slave economy.

These rebellions helped make the “slavery question” one of the most contested political issues of its time. Philosophers and statesmen balanced the wrongs of enslavement against the huge profits to be made for individual merchants and for nations as a whole. One after the other, European nations abolished first the trade in enslaved people and later slavery itself.


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Yet, even in abolition, European nations kept a close eye on their rivals. Britain’s abolition of the slave trade was followed by the creation of a West Africa Squadron of the Royal Navy. Its task was to interrupt the trade of other nations by capturing their slave ships and “liberating” their African captives.

These “liberated Africans” were given the choice of working for the Royal Navy or contributing to Britain’s colonisation of Sierra Leone. None of them were allowed to return home.




Read more:
Three graphic novels that address the history of slavery – and commemorate resistance


While this was going on, romanticism spread throughout Europe. It was a movement that affected every aspect of culture – art, literature, music, philosophy, science and politics. It centred on the idealisation of human freedom in all its forms. Old monarchies were to be swept away by democratic revolutions, stale aesthetic forms by sublime feeling, constrictive gender norms by free love.

The romantic drive for freedom is generally interpreted in relation to the French Revolution and the Industrial Revolution. Both symbolise a shift of power from the old nobility to the new bourgeoisie (or middle classes) and a concurrent shift from agrarian to urban economies. Romantic freedom is rarely read in the context of the slavery question.

My new book, The Trembling Hand, addresses this omission. It explores how enslavement shaped European culture in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. I trace how profits made from slavery supported literary work. I analyse how writers absorbed and refracted ideas about Africans that emerged in the public debate around slavery. Above all, I try to recover the presence of Black people, hovering at the edges of the archive.

How do we teach this history?

The links between ongoing Black insurrection in the Caribbean and the romantic obsession with freedom were felt by writers and artists at the time. But they have been obscured by the ways in which this period has traditionally been taught in schools and universities.

pencil portrait of Olaudah Equiano
Portrait of Olaudah Equiano (1789).
Wiki Commons

Today, the status quo is beginning to shift. In response to calls to decolonise and diversify the curriculum, a new canon of Black romantic writing is beginning to be taught. It’s centred on a handful of authors, especially Phillis Wheatley and Olaudah Equiano, as well as the unknown author of the novel The Woman of Colour (1808). Their presence in the curriculum is definitely an improvement – yet it also raises some problems.

To study Black writing of the romantic period inevitably means to study the history of slavery. This is because the only Afro-diasporic people who wrote in English in the 18th and 19th centuries had acquired the language in context of the transatlantic slave economy. It is very hard, if not impossible, to find a Black bildungsroman, gothic romance, or epic poem.

This is a historical fact. Yet it also means that only focusing on works published by Black authors risks playing into the notion that Black people’s only contribution to history was as “slaves”. This erases the multifaceted ways in which Afro-diasporic peoples affected the course of European history in the 18th and 19th centuries. Not only as “slaves” but also as cultural agents in their own right.

This points to the problem of the archive: its gaps and silences, but also its violent distortions.

Many of the archives that we have access to were created by enslavers. They had a vested interest in perpetuating the slave system even as it was being challenged by Black rebels and abolitionists. They threw all their rhetorical force at demonising Black people so as to justify enslavement.

etching of Phillis Wheatley
Portrait of Phillis Wheatley (1773).
National Portrait Gallery

Literature, alongside art, philosophy and the social and natural sciences contributed to spreading these ideas. These writings were instrumental in shaping public understanding about race, enslavement and empire.

We need to understand how literary writers contributed to constructing a vision of Britain as an imperial power entitled to subjugate foreign peoples and extract their resources.

How does the brutal violence of colonisation come to seem like a reasonable activity for a civilised nation to engage in? How does the idea that white Europeans have a “natural” right to rule over the whole world become widely accepted? Or the idea that people with a darker skin tone are born to serve? Or the idea that being a European power involves having colonies outside of Europe?

These questions prompt us, as readers interested in decolonising and diversifying the teaching of English literature, to turn our gaze on white authors. Especially those major authors whose work had an “impact” on their society. In addition to studying marginalised voices, we need to interrogate the ideas about race that have been created and propagated through canonical literature.

As these works become part of our national heritage, for example by being selected to be taught in schools, so the racial prejudice they harbour become wired into our own minds. Some of the racist ideas that I find in the historical archive are intimately familiar from my own experience.

That’s why I set out to write a new history of romanticism, one that reckons with the impact of the transatlantic slave economy on British culture – an impact so strong that it still resonates today.

This article features references to books that have been included for editorial reasons, and may contain links to bookshop.org. If you click on one of the links and go on to buy something from bookshop.org The Conversation UK may earn a commission.

The Conversation

Mathelinda Nabugodi has received funding from The Leverhulme Trust, The Deborah Rogers Foundation, and the Whiting Foundation.

ref. My new history of romanticism shows how enslavement shaped European culture – https://theconversation.com/my-new-history-of-romanticism-shows-how-enslavement-shaped-european-culture-261780

Street lamps aren’t the only form of artificial light pollution – here’s how to create darker nights

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Georgia MacMillan, PhD Scholar – Research Ireland Employment Based Scheme, University of Galway

Without a view of the stars at night, Don McLean would never have been able to write Vincent and Vincent van Gogh would not have painted Starry Night. Viewing a sky full of stars is part of what makes us human. The light from stars has travelled thousands of miles to reach our eyes.

But now, most Europeans live under unnaturally bright night skies. That ancient starlight is now diluted by human-made light pollution.

So where is all this extra light coming from? A recent German study reveals that, contrary to common assumption, public street lighting may not be the biggest cause of light pollution. The sources are closer to home. Improved energy efficiencies in LED technology means that artificial light is now cheaper than ever to run. As a result, people are lighting up front doors, sheds and garden paths like never before.

swirls of painted starry night sky blue and yellow
Artist Vincent van Gogh’s famous Starry Night painting was inspired by clear, dark skies.
Rawpixel.com/Shutterstock

Artificial light at night has undoubtedly revolutionised our productivity and transformed our social environment as the sun sets. However, when used excessively or inappropriately, artificial light at night becomes light pollution. This changes our outdoor spaces by creating daytime conditions at night.

In particular, LEDs emitting high levels of harsh blue-white light are known to scatter more widely into the atmosphere, increasing levels of light pollution, which can have unintended consequences by interrupting our sleep cycles and circadian rhythms and disrupting nature at night.

Just one lamp can attract hundreds of insects, many of them important nocturnal pollinators, away from their natural environment, every single night. Once trapped in what’s called the “vacuum cleaner effect” of artificial light, scientists estimate that over 30% of these insects will die before dawn from exhaustion or predation. This disrupts the balance of nocturnal ecosystems.

The German researchers used a specially developed mobile app called NightLights to survey sources of light at night. More than 250 citizen scientists surveyed their local surroundings. The results challenged common assumptions that streetlights are the primary contributor to urban light pollution, and showed that residential, commercial and other non-street lighting sources play a significant role in brightening our night skies.

lamp with moths flying around in darkness around light, brick wall
Insects are attracted to lights on houses, in gardens and public spaces.
eleonimages/Shutterstock

In Ireland, we are coordinating similar surveys as part of a pilot programme to raise awareness of light pollution. Some of the most noticeable sources of night light include home security lights being angled up instead of down, garden runway lights over-illuminating pathways throughout the night and considerable light spilling from large windows without blinds or curtains.

Another growing issue in Ireland is the increasing intensity of illuminated sports grounds, often reported to the environmental non-profit group Dark Sky Ireland by concerned residents.

These issues can be easily resolved. Light pollution is just about the simplest of all pollutants to fix. Our study focuses on County Mayo’s Dark Sky Park, a place where naturally dark skies are protected and internationally recognised as a cherished form of natural heritage. We examined the role of dark sky tourism and community engagement in addressing light pollution. By making some simple changes to the type of light and being a little more judicious about how it is used, the level of unnecessary light currently polluting our night skies can be reduced.

Seeing the light

The community of Newport, County Mayo, has led the way in making these changes with some impressive results. Light pollution over the town of Newport has been reduced by 50% by redesigning the town’s lighting scheme – this award-winning project focused on replacing excessive flood lighting on heritage and architectural structures with a sensitively designed lighting scheme to enhance the town’s nightscape. As a feature of this initiative, the beautiful stained glass window at St Patrick’s Church in Newport, created by 20th-century artist Harry Clarke is delicately interpreted with light at night.

Lighting solutions that help protect dark skies include angling outdoor lights downwards and using shielded lamps to avoid illuminating the sky. Only direct light towards the area that needs to be lit, not into a neighbour’s garden or home. Use a visually warmer colour of light (such as amber) to reduce glare and improve conditions for wildlife and natural sleep cycles. Employing timers ensures that lights are only switched on when needed.

By making small changes to how we light our homes and gardens at night, the beauty of a starry night can be restored for generations to come.


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The Conversation

Georgia MacMillan is affiliated with Dark Sky Ireland as a voluntary director (unpaid). Dark Sky Ireland is a non-profit CLG.

Marie Mahon receives funding from Horizon Europe

I am the Lead PI for the Research Ireland funded PhD project for Georgia McMillan. While I don’t directly receive/benefit the funds I have a role in managing them for Georgia.

ref. Street lamps aren’t the only form of artificial light pollution – here’s how to create darker nights – https://theconversation.com/street-lamps-arent-the-only-form-of-artificial-light-pollution-heres-how-to-create-darker-nights-260514

School shootings leave lasting scars on local economies, research shows

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Muzeeb Shaik, Assistant Professor, Indiana University

A mourner pays tribute to the victims of the mass shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Conn., in December 2012. Lisa Wiltse/Corbis via Getty Images

Fatal school shootings don’t just devastate communities emotionally – they also harm their economies, new research shows. People eat out less, avoid public spaces and generally spend less money after a tragedy strikes a local school. This has real economic consequences for neighborhoods that are already reeling.

We are a team of marketing professors, and in a recent study we looked at household spending in more than 60 U.S. counties that had experienced fatal school shootings between 2012 and 2019. We found that in the six months following an attack, people spent an average of 2.1% less on groceries.

In a separate analysis of store-level data from 2019 to 2022, we examined 44 more school shootings and found similar declines. Spending at restaurants and bars dropped by 8%, and purchases at food and beverage stores – a category that includes grocery stores – fell by 3%. For the average U.S. county, this represents about US$5.4 million in lost grocery revenue.

Importantly, we found no evidence that consumers spent more on online shopping or food delivery to compensate. The reductions represent real losses in economic activity.

To understand why this happens, we conducted three behavioral experiments. We found that people who read news about fatal school shootings said they were more anxious about being in public and less likely to visit a grocery store or restaurant than those who read about other similarly tragic events involving children, such as fatal car accidents or drownings.

Among several potential psychological explanations, anxiety about public safety best predicted this reduction in spending. That fear, we found, consistently hits harder in politically liberal areas. For example, grocery spending fell 2.4% in liberal-leaning counties compared to 1.3% in conservative-leaning counties in the six months following a fatal school shooting.

Why it matters

School shootings have become tragically common in the United States. Between 2013 and 2024, there were 1,843 such shootings – nearly three every week. Since the Columbine High School shooting in 1999, 203 children and educators have been killed in these tragedies.

We found that school shootings reshape communities far beyond the schoolyard. Many residents withdraw from public spaces. Local businesses can lose customers. The result is a lasting decline in consumer activity.

And our findings could understate the problem. We studied spending categories such as groceries and food, which are typically resistant to short-term change. This suggests that the actual economic toll, especially in sectors such as retail and entertainment, may be even greater.

These effects aren’t caused by damaged infrastructure. They are behavioral, rooted in fear and avoidance.

This points to the need for broader, more coordinated community responses following fatal school shootings. In addition to providing trauma care and improving school safety procedures and infrastructure, local governments may need to consider proactive policies that support economic recovery. Relief grants, public communication campaigns and community engagement initiatives could help restore a sense of normalcy and public confidence.

What still isn’t known

While our study shows that fatal school shootings hurt local economies, it leaves an urgent practical question unanswered: How can policymakers and local businesses help these communities bounce back?

Right now, there’s not much solid evidence about which strategies actually work. For example, could public safety messaging help restore consumer confidence? Would investments in visible security or mental health services reduce anxiety and encourage people to reengage with local businesses? These are important questions for future research.

Researchers can also help businesses by identifying practical ways to rebuild trust and foot traffic. While industry best practices emphasize environmental modifications, staff training and enhanced communication about safety protocols, much of that guidance is drawn from other crisis contexts rather than from systematic research on responses to school shootings.

The potential for retailers to adopt trauma-informed approaches – such as updating store layouts, providing specialized staff training or offering community outreach programs – represents an area where more research could do a lot of practical good. It’s also possible that coordinated responses involving multiple businesses could be more effective than efforts led by individual retailers.

Figuring out what works is essential for protecting local economic stability and helping residents heal. Without stronger evidence, communities may be left to navigate their own recovery process in the dark.

The Conversation

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

ref. School shootings leave lasting scars on local economies, research shows – https://theconversation.com/school-shootings-leave-lasting-scars-on-local-economies-research-shows-261350

Do you really need to read to learn? What neuroscience says about reading versus listening

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Stephanie N. Del Tufo, Assistant Professor of Education & Human Development, University of Delaware

Reading and listening are two different brain functions. Do we need to do both? Goads Agency/E+ via Getty Images

Curious Kids is a series for children of all ages. If you have a question you’d like an expert to answer, send it to CuriousKidsUS@theconversation.com.


“Do we need to read, or can we just get everything through audio, like podcasts and audiobooks?” – Sebastian L., 15, Skanderborg, Denmark


Let’s start with a thought experiment: Close your eyes and imagine what the future might look like in a few hundred years.

Are people intergalactic travelers zooming between galaxies? Maybe we live on spaceships, underwater worlds or planets with purple skies.

Now, picture your bedroom as a teenager of the future. There’s probably a glowing screen on the wall. And when you look out the window, maybe you see Saturn’s rings, Neptune’s blue glow or the wonders of the ocean floor.

Now ask yourself: Is there a book in the room?

Open your eyes. Chances are, there’s a book nearby. Maybe it’s on your nightstand or shoved under your bed. Some people have only one; others have many.

You’ll still find books today, even in a world filled with podcasts. Why is that? If we can listen to almost anything, why does reading still matter?

As a language scientist, I study how biological factors and social experiences shape language. My work explores how the brain processes spoken and written language, using tools like MRI and EEG.

Whether reading a book or listening to a recording, the goal is the same: understanding. But these activities aren’t exactly alike. Each supports comprehension in different ways. Listening doesn’t provide all the benefits of reading, and reading doesn’t offer everything listening does. Both are important, but they are not interchangeable.

A brain scan showing various colors in different parts of the brain
My colleagues and I use brain scans like this MRI to study what the brain is doing when a person reads.
Rajaaisya/Science Photo Library via Getty Images

Different brain processes

Your brain uses some of the same language and cognitive systems for both reading and listening, but it also performs different functions depending on how you’re taking in the information.

When you read, your brain is working hard behind the scenes. It recognizes the shapes of letters, matches them to speech sounds, connects those sounds to meaning, then links those meanings across words, sentences and even whole books. The text uses visual structure such as punctuation marks, paragraph breaks or bolded words to guide understanding. You can go at your own speed.

Listening, on the other hand, requires your brain to work at the pace of the speaker. Because spoken language is fleeting, listeners must rely on cognitive processes, including memory to hold onto what they just heard.

Speech is also a continuous stream, not neatly separated words. When someone speaks, the sounds blend together in a process called coarticulation. This requires the listener’s brain to quickly identify word boundaries and connect sounds to meanings. Beyond identifying the words themselves, the listener’s brain must also pay attention to tone, speaker identity and context to understand the speaker’s meaning.

‘Easier’ is relative – and contextual

Many people assume that listening is easier than reading, but this is not usually the case. Research shows that listening can be harder than reading, especially when the material is complex or unfamiliar.

Listening and reading comprehension are more similar for simple narratives, like fictional stories, than for nonfiction books or essays that explain facts, ideas or how things work. My research shows that genre affects how you read. In fact, different kinds of texts rely on specialized brain networks. Fictional stories engage regions of the brain involved in social understanding and storytelling. Nonfiction texts, on the other hand, rely on a brain network that helps with strategic thinking and goal-directed attention.

Reading difficult material tends to be easier than listening from a practical standpoint, as well. Reading lets you move around within the text easily, rereading particular sections if you’re struggling to understand, or underlining important points to revisit later. A listener who is having trouble following a particular point must pause and rewind, which is less precise than scanning a page and can interrupt the flow of listening, impeding understanding.

Even so, for some people, like those with developmental dyslexia, listening may be easier. Individuals with developmental dyslexia often struggle to apply their knowledge of written language to correctly pronounce written words, a process known as decoding. Listening allows the brain to extract meaning without the difficult process of decoding.

Engaging with the material

One last thing to consider is engagement. In this context, engagement refers to being mentally present, actively focusing, processing information and connecting ideas to what you already know.

People often listen while doing other things, like exercising, cooking or browsing the internet – activities that would be hard to do while reading. When researchers asked college students to either read or listen to a podcast on their own time, students who read the material performed significantly better on a quiz than those who listened. Many of the students who listened reported multitasking, such as clicking around on their computers while the podcast played. This is particularly important, as paying attention appears to be more important for listening comprehension than reading comprehension.

So, yes, reading still matters, even when listening is an option. Each activity offers something different, and they are not interchangeable.

The best way to learn is not by treating books and audio recordings as the same, but by knowing how each works and using both to better understand the world.


Hello, curious kids! Do you have a question you’d like an expert to answer? Ask an adult to send your question to CuriousKidsUS@theconversation.com. Please tell us your name, age and the city where you live.

And since curiosity has no age limit – adults, let us know what you’re wondering, too. We won’t be able to answer every question, but we will do our best.

The Conversation

Stephanie N. Del Tufo, Ph.D. research has been supported by the National Institutes of Health (NICHD, NIDCD, NIE, NINDS), the National Science Foundation (NSF), the Spencer Foundation, the University of Delaware, the W.M. Keck Foundation, the Ellison Medical Foundation, the ASHA Foundation, and several professional organizations including American Educational Research Association (AERA), Society for Research in Child Development (SRCD), the Association for Psychological Science (APS), the American Psychological Association (APA), and the International Literacy Association (ILA).

ref. Do you really need to read to learn? What neuroscience says about reading versus listening – https://theconversation.com/do-you-really-need-to-read-to-learn-what-neuroscience-says-about-reading-versus-listening-250743

Due process: What it means in US law and its implications for migrant rights

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Ray Brescia, Associate Dean for Research and Intellectual Life, Albany Law School

A core principle of the U.S. justice system is that the government must act in accordance with the rule of law. arsenisspyros, iStock Getty Images

As the United States edges up to the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence in 2026, one of the core principles the founders sought to advance – that the government must act with accountability and in accordance with the rule of law – is being strongly tested.

In their deliberations leading up to the declaration, the founders would not just raise deep concerns that the government of King George III was violating the Colonists’ rights, which they described in the declaration. They would also enshrine these principles in the U.S. Constitution over a decade later through the concept of “due process.”

What did the framers likely mean when they did so? That’s no longer simply an academic question for legal scholars like me. The meaning and application of due process has become a crucial issue in the U.S., most often with respect to the Trump administration’s migrant deportation efforts.

Over the past several months, the U.S. Supreme Court has made several rulings in deportation-related cases with respect to what’s called the due process clause of the Constitution.

In April 2025, in the case Trump v. J.G.G., the court seemed to state quite clearly that deportations could not take place without due process. More recently, however, in D.H.S. v. D.V.D., the Supreme Court prevented a lower court from providing due process protections to a group of men the administration wanted to deport to South Sudan, where they are at risk of facing torture and even death.

These seemingly contradictory rulings not only make it unclear when due process applies but probably leave many asking what the term “due process of law” even means and how it works.

A large white, pillared building at the back of a plaza, with clouds in a blue sky behind it.
Over the past several months, the U.S. Supreme Court has made several rulings about due process in deportation-related cases.
Mike Kline, Moment/Getty Images

The origins of due process

The American concept of due process can be traced from medieval England to its modern formulation by the U.S. Supreme Court. Doing so allows the meaning of due process to come into focus. It also calls into question the court’s most recent ruling on this issue.

The concepts of due process and the rule of law largely emerged in the 13th century in the Magna Carta, a formal, written agreement between King John of England and the rebel aristocracy that effectively established legal constraints on government.

One key passage from the Magna Carta provided that “No Freeman shall be taken, or any otherwise imprisoned, or be disseised of his Freehold, or Liberties, or free Customs, or be outlawed, or exiled, or destroyed; nor we will not pass upon him, nor condemn him, but by lawful Judgment of his Peers, or by the Law of the Land.”

This accord established formal constraints on a previously unrestrained regent, setting English law on the course that would prioritize rule of law over the whims of the monarch.

Over a century later, Parliament would pass the English statute of 1354 that said “That no Man of what Estate or Condition that he be, shall he put out of Land or Tenement, nor taken nor imprisoned, nor disinherited, nor put to death, without being brought in Answer by due Process of the Law.”

These principlesd evolve over time in British law and then informed the emerging revolutionary spirit in the American Colonies.

Released in January 1776, Thomas Paine’s pamphlet Common Sense would help galvanize and steel many Colonists for the revolutionary conflict to come. The work shifted the focus of Colonists’ anger from trying to force the king to treat them better to more radical change: independence and a country governed by the rule of law.

An antique publication from 1776 with the title 'COMMON SENSE.'
Thomas Paine wrote in this influential 1776 political pamphlet, ‘For as in absolute governments the King is law, so in free countries the law ought to be King; and there ought to be no other.’
Library of Congress Rare Book and Special Collections Division

What the Colonists wanted, Paine wrote, was not a monarch: “So far as we approve of monarchy, that in America THE LAW IS KING. For as in absolute governments the King is law, so in free countries the law ought to be King; and there ought to be no other.”

Defining due process

After independence, many of the original 13 states adopted their own constitutions that would enshrine principles akin to due process to protect their constituents from government overreach, such as that government was to be bound, as it was in Virginia’s Declaration of Rights in 1776, by “the law of the land.”

But it was not until the nation adopted the Bill of Rights – the first 10 amendments to the Constitution – in 1791 that the federal government could not act in a way that deprived the populace of life, liberty or property without due process of law. After the Civil War, the 14th Amendment would apply these same protections to all government action, state and federal.

The contemporary and most comprehensive formulation of what due process requires can be found in the Supreme Court’s ruling in the 1970 case Goldberg v. Kelly, brought by welfare recipients challenging their loss of such benefits without a hearing.

In that case, the court determined that when governments attempt to deprive someone of their life, liberty or property, the target of those attempts must receive fair notice of the charges or claims against them that would justify that loss; be given an opportunity to defend against those claims; and possess the right to have such defenses considered by an impartial adjudicator.

The Supreme Court in 1976 would accept that due process protections in different settings will vary based on a number of variables. Those include what is at stake in the case, the likelihood that government might make a mistake in a particular setting, and the benefits and burdens of providing certain forms of process in a given situation.

When someone’s life is literally on the line, for example, more exacting procedures are required. At the same time, regardless of how important the interest that is subject to due process – whether it is one’s life, one’s home, one’s liberty, or something else – the components of fair notice, an opportunity to be heard, and to have one’s case decided by an impartial adjudicator must be meaningful.

As the court said in Mullane vs. Central Hanover Bank & Trust Co. in 1950: “Process which is a mere gesture is not due process.”

The Conversation

Ray Brescia 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. Due process: What it means in US law and its implications for migrant rights – https://theconversation.com/due-process-what-it-means-in-us-law-and-its-implications-for-migrant-rights-259756

Urban trees vs. cool roofs: What’s the best way for cities to beat the heat?

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Ian Smith, Research Scientist in Earth & Environment, Boston University

Trees like these in Boston can help keep neighborhoods cooler on hot days. Yassine Khalfalli/Unsplash, CC BY

When summer turns up the heat, cities can start to feel like an oven, as buildings and pavement trap the sun’s warmth and vehicles and air conditioners release more heat into the air.

The temperature in an urban neighborhood with few trees can be more than 10 degrees Fahrenheit (5.5 Celsius) higher than in nearby suburbs. That means air conditioning works harder, straining the electrical grid and leaving communities vulnerable to power outages.

There are some proven steps that cities can take to help cool the air – planting trees that provide shade and moisture, for example, or creating cool roofs that reflect solar energy away from the neighborhood rather than absorbing it.

But do these steps pay off everywhere?

We study heat risk in cities as urban ecologists and have been exploring the impact of tree-planting and reflective roofs in different cities and different neighborhoods across cities. What we’re learning can help cities and homeowners be more targeted in their efforts to beat the heat.

The wonder of trees

Urban trees offer a natural defense against rising temperatures. They cast shade and release water vapor through their leaves, a process akin to human sweating. That cools the surrounding air and reduces afternoon heat.

Adding trees to city streets, parks and residential yards can make a meaningful difference in how hot a neighborhood feels, with blocks that have tree canopies nearly 3 F (1.7 C) cooler than blocks without trees.

Two maps of New York City show how vegetation matches cooler areas by temperature.
Comparing maps of New York’s vegetation and temperature shows the cooling effect of parks and neighborhoods with more trees. In the map on the left, lighter colors are areas with fewer trees. Light areas in the map on the right are hotter.
NASA/USGS Landsat

But planting trees isn’t always simple.

In hot, dry cities, trees often require irrigation to survive, which can strain already limited water resources. Trees must survive for decades to grow large enough to provide shade and release enough water vapor to reduce air temperatures.

Annual maintenance costs – about US$900 per tree per year in Boston – can surpass the initial planting investment.

Most challenging of all, dense urban neighborhoods where heat is most intense are often too packed with buildings and roads to grow more trees.

How cool roofs can help on hot days

Another option is “cool roofs.” Coating rooftops with reflective paint or using light-colored materials allows buildings to reflect more sunlight back into the atmosphere rather than absorbing it as heat.

These roofs can lower the temperature inside an apartment building without air conditioning by about 2 to 6 F (1 to 3.3 C), and can cut peak cooling demand by as much as 27% in air-conditioned buildings, one study found. They can also provide immediate relief by reducing outdoor temperatures in densely populated areas. The maintenance costs are also lower than expanding urban forests.

Two workers apply paint to a flat roof.
Two workers apply a white coating to the roof of a row home in Philadelphia.
AP Photo/Matt Rourke

However, like trees, cool roofs come with limits. Cool roofs work better on flat roofs than sloped roofs with shingles, as flat roofs are often covered by heat-trapping rubber and are exposed to more direct sunlight over the course of an afternoon.

Cities also have a finite number of rooftops that can be retrofitted. And in cities that already have many light-colored roofs, a few more might help lower cooling costs in those buildings, but they won’t do much more for the neighborhood.

By weighing the trade-offs of both strategies, cities can design location-specific plans to beat the heat.

Choosing the right mix of cooling solutions

Many cities around the world have taken steps to adapt to extreme heat, with tree planting and cool roof programs that implement reflectivity requirements or incentivize cool roof adoption.

In Detroit, nonprofit organizations have planted more than 166,000 trees since 1989. In Los Angeles, building codes now require new residential roofs to meet specific reflectivity standards.

In a recent study, we analyzed Boston’s potential to lower heat in vulnerable neighborhoods across the city. The results demonstrate how a balanced, budget-conscious strategy could deliver significant cooling benefits.

For example, we found that planting trees can cool the air 35% more than installing cool roofs in places where trees can actually be planted.

However, many of the best places for new trees in Boston aren’t in the neighborhoods that need help. In these neighborhoods, we found that reflective roofs were the better choice.

By investing less than 1% of the city’s annual operating budget, about US$34 million, in 2,500 new trees and 3,000 cool roofs targeting the most at-risk areas, we found that Boston could reduce heat exposure for nearly 80,000 residents. The results would reduce summertime afternoon air temperatures by over 1 F (0.6 C) in those neighborhoods.

While that reduction might seem modest, reductions of this magnitude have been found to dramatically reduce heat-related illness and death, increase labor productivity and reduce energy costs associated with building cooling.

Not every city will benefit from the same mix. Boston’s urban landscape includes many flat, black rooftops that reflect only about 12% of sunlight, making cool roofs that reflect over 65% of sunlight an especially effective intervention. Boston also has a relatively moist growing season that supports a thriving urban tree canopy, making both solutions viable.

Two aerial images show very different building coloring in two cities.
Phoenix, left, already has a lot of light-colored roots, compared with Boston, right, where roofs are mostly dark.
Imagery © Google 2025.

In places with fewer flat, dark rooftops suitable for cool roof conversion, tree planting may offer more value. Conversely, in cities with little room left for new trees or where extreme heat and drought limit tree survival, cool roofs may be the better bet.

Phoenix, for example, already has many light-colored roofs. Trees might be an option there, but they will require irrigation.

Getting the solutions where people need them

Adding shade along sidewalks can do double-duty by giving pedestrians a place to get out of the sun and cooling buildings. In New York City, for example, street trees account for an estimated 25% of the entire urban forest.

Cool roofs can be more difficult for a government to implement because they require working with building owners. That often means cities need to provide incentives. Louisville, Kentucky, for example, offers rebates of up to $2,000 for homeowners who install reflective roofing materials, and up to $5,000 for commercial businesses with flat roofs that use reflective coatings.

Two charts show improvements
In Boston, planting trees, left, and increasing roof reflectivity, right, were both found to be effective ways to cool urban areas.
Ian Smith et al. 2025

Efforts like these can help spread cool roof benefits across densely populated neighborhoods that need cooling help most.

As climate change drives more frequent and intense urban heat, cities have powerful tools for lowering the temperature. With some attention to what already exists and what’s feasible, they can find the right budget-conscious strategy that will deliver cooling benefits for everyone.

The Conversation

Lucy Hutyra has received funding from the U.S. federal government and foundations including the World Resources Institute and Burroughs Wellcome Fund for her scholarship on urban climate and mitigation strategies. She was a recipient of a 2023 MacArthur Fellowship for her work in this area.

Ian Smith 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. Urban trees vs. cool roofs: What’s the best way for cities to beat the heat? – https://theconversation.com/urban-trees-vs-cool-roofs-whats-the-best-way-for-cities-to-beat-the-heat-260188

How wind and solar power helps keep America’s farms alive

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Paul Mwebaze, Research Economist at the Institute for Sustainability, Energy and Environment, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign

About 60% of Iowa’s power comes from wind. Farmers can earn extra cash by leasing small sections of farms for power production. Bill Clark/Getty Images

Drive through the plains of Iowa or Kansas and you’ll see more than rows of corn, wheat and soybeans. You’ll also see towering wind turbines spinning above fields and solar panels shining in the sun on barns and machine sheds.

For many farmers, these are lifelines. Renewable energy provides steady income and affordable power, helping farms stay viable when crop prices fall or drought strikes.

But some of that opportunity is now at risk as the Trump administration cuts federal support for renewable energy.

Wind power brings steady income for farms

Wind energy is a significant economic driver in rural America. In Iowa, for example, over 60% of the state’s electricity came from wind energy in 2024, and the state is a hub for wind turbine manufacturing and maintenance jobs.

For landowners, wind turbines often mean stable lease payments. Those historically were around US$3,000 to $5,000 per turbine per year, with some modern agreements $5,000 to $10,000 annually, secured through 20- to 30-year contracts.

Nationwide, wind and solar projects contribute about $3.5 billion annually in combined lease payments and state and local taxes, more than a third of it going directly to rural landowners.

A U.S. map shows the strongest wind power potential in the central U.S., particularly the Great Plains and Midwestern states.
States throughout the Great Plains and Midwest, from Texas to Montana to Ohio, have the strongest onshore winds and onshore wind power potential. These are also in the heart of U.S. farm country. The map shows wind speeds at 100 meters (nearly 330 feet), about the height of a typical land-based wind turbine.
NREL

These figures are backed by long-term contracts and multibillion‑dollar annual contributions, reinforcing the economic value that turbines bring to rural landowners and communities.

Wind farms also contribute to local tax revenues that help fund rural schools, roads and emergency services. In counties across Texas, wind energy has become one of the most significant contributors to local property tax bases, stabilizing community budgets and helping pay for public services as agricultural commodity revenues fluctuate.

In Oldham County in northwest Texas, for example, clean energy projects provided 22% of total county revenues in 2021. In several other rural counties, wind farms rank among the top 10 property taxpayers, contributing between 38% and 69% of tax revenue.

The construction and operation of these projects also bring local jobs in trucking, concrete work and electrical services, boosting small-town businesses.

A worker wearing a hardhat stands on top of a wind turbine, with a wide view of the landscape around him.
A wind turbine technician stands on the nacelle, which houses the gear box and generator of a wind turbine, on the campus of Mesalands Community College in Tucumcari, N.M., in 2024. Colleges in other states, including Texas, also developed training programs for technicians in recent years as jobs in the industry boomed.
Andrew Marszal/AFP via Getty Images

The U.S. wind industry supports over 300,000 U.S. jobs across construction, manufacturing, operations and other roles connected to the industry, according to the American Clean Power Association.

Renewable energy has been widely expected to continue to grow along with rising energy demand. In 2024, 93% of all new electricity generating capacity was wind, solar or energy storage, and the U.S. Energy Information Administration expected a similar percentage in 2025 as of June.

Solar can cut power costs on the farm

Solar energy is also boosting farm finances. Farmers use rooftop panels on barns and ground-mounted systems to power irrigation pumps, grain dryers and cold storage facilities, cutting their power costs.

Some farmers have adopted agrivoltaics – dual-use systems that grow crops beneath solar panels. The panels provide shade, helping conserve water, while creating a second income path. These projects often cultivate pollinator-friendly plants, vegetables such as lettuce and spinach, or even grasses for grazing sheep, making the land productive for both food and energy.

Federal grants and tax credits that were significantly expanded under the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act helped make the upfront costs of solar installations affordable.

A farmer looks at the camera with cows around him and a large red bar with solar panels on the roof behind him. The photos was taken at the Milkhouse Dairy in Monmouth, Maine, on Oct. 3, 2019.
Solar panels can help cut energy costs for farm operations like dairies.
Shawn Patrick Ouellette/Portland Press Herald via Getty Images

However, the federal spending bill signed by President Donald Trump on July 4, 2025, rolled back many clean energy incentives. It phases down tax credits for distributed solar projects, particularly those under 1 megawatt, which include many farm‑scale installations, and sunsets them entirely by 2028. It also eliminates bonus credits that previously supported rural and low‑income areas.

Without these credits, the upfront cost of solar power could be out of reach for some farmers, leaving them paying higher energy costs. At a 2024 conference organized by the Institute of Sustainability, Energy and Environment at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign, where I work as a research economist, farmers emphasized the importance of tax credits and other economic incentives to offset the upfront cost of solar power systems.

What’s being lost

The cuts to federal incentives include terminating the Production Tax Credit for new projects placed in service after Dec. 31, 2027, unless construction begins by July 4, 2026, and is completed within a tight time frame. The tax credit pays eligible wind and solar facilities approximately 2.75 cents per kilowatt-hour over 10 years, effectively lowering the cost of renewable energy generation. Ending that tax credit will likely increase the cost of production, potentially leading to higher electricity prices for consumers and fewer new projects coming online.

The changes also accelerate the phase‑out of wind power tax credits. Projects must now begin construction by July 4, 2026, or be in service before the end of 2027 to qualify for any credit.

Meanwhile, the Investment Tax Credit, which covers 30% of installed cost for solar and other renewables, faces similar limits: Projects must begin by July 4, 2026, and be completed by the end of 2027 to claim the credits. The bill also cuts bonuses for domestic components and installations in rural or low‑income locations. These adjustments could slow new renewable energy development, particularly smaller projects that directly benefit rural communities.

While many existing clean energy agreements will remain in place for now, the rollback of federal incentives threatens future projects and could limit new income streams. It also affects manufacturing and jobs in those industries, which some rural communities rely on.

Renewable energy also powers rural economies

Renewable energy benefits entire communities, not just individual farmers.

Wind and solar projects contribute millions of dollars in tax revenue. For example, in Howard County, Iowa, wind turbines generated $2.7 million in property tax revenue in 2024, accounting for 14.5% of the county’s total budget and helping fund rural schools, public safety and road improvements.

In some rural counties, clean energy is the largest new source of economic activity, helping stabilize local economies otherwise reliant on agriculture’s unpredictable income streams. These projects also support rural manufacturing – such as Iowa turbine blade factories like TPI Composites, which just reopened its plant in Newton, and Siemens Gamesa in Fort Madison, which supply blades for GE and Siemens turbines. The tax benefits in the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act helped boost those industries – and the jobs and local tax revenue they bring in.

On the solar side, rural companies like APA Solar Racking, based in Ohio, manufacture steel racking systems for utility-scale solar farms across the Midwest.

An example of how renewable energy has helped boost farm incomes and keep farmers on their land.

As rural America faces economic uncertainty and climate pressures, I believe homegrown renewable energy offers a practical path forward. Wind and solar aren’t just fueling the grid; they’re helping keep farms and rural towns alive.

The Conversation

The Sustainably Co-locating Agricultural and Photovoltaic Electricity Systems (SCAPES) project, led by the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign, is funded by the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s National Institute of Food and Agriculture.

ref. How wind and solar power helps keep America’s farms alive – https://theconversation.com/how-wind-and-solar-power-helps-keep-americas-farms-alive-260657

The beach wasn’t always a vacation destination – for the ancient Greeks, it was a scary place

Source: The Conversation – USA (3) – By Marie-Claire Beaulieu, Associate Professor of Classical Studies, Tufts University

Ixia Beach, located on the northwestern coast of the Greek island of Rhodes, is a popular destination. Norbert Nagel via Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA

Many of us are heading to the beach to bask in the sun and unwind as part of our summer vacations. Research has shown that spending time at the beach can provide immense relaxation for many people. Staring at the ocean puts us in a mild meditative state, the smell of the breeze soothes us, the warmth of the sand envelops us, and above all, the continuous, regular sound of the waves allows us to fully relax.

But beach vacations only became popular in the 19th and early 20th centuries as part of the lifestyle of the wealthy in Western countries. Early Europeans, and especially the ancient Greeks, thought the beach was a place of hardship and death. As a seafaring people, they mostly lived on the coastline, yet they feared the sea and thought that an agricultural lifestyle was safer and more respectable.

As a historian of culture and an expert in Greek mythology, I am interested in this change of attitude toward the beach.

Couple dressed in 19th-century clothing walking on a beach with horse and cart.
‘On the Beach at Trouville,’ an 1863 painting by French artist Eugène Boudin.
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

The sensory experience of the beach

As I write in my 2016 book, “The Sea in the Greek Imagination,” Greek literature discounts all the positive sensations of the beach and the sea and focuses on the negative ones in order to stress the discomfort the ancient Greeks felt about the beach and the sea in general.

For instance, Greek literature emphasizes the intense smell of seaweed and sea brine. In the “Odyssey,” an eighth century B.C.E. poem that takes place largely at sea, the hero Menelaus and his companions are lost near the coast of Egypt. They must hide under the skins of seals to catch the sea god Proteus and learn their way home from him. The odor of the seals and sea brine is so extremely repulsive to them that their ambush almost fails, and only magical ambrosia placed under their noses can neutralize the smell.

Similarly, while the sound of the waves on a calm day is relaxing for many people, the violence of storms at sea can be distressing. Ancient Greek literature focuses only on the frightening power of stormy seas, comparing it to the sounds of battle. In the “Iliad,” a poem contemporary with the “Odyssey,” the onslaught of the Trojan army on the Greek battle lines is compared to a storm at sea: “They advanced like a deadly storm that scours the earth, to the thunder of Father Zeus, and stirs the sea with stupendous roaring, leaving surging waves in its path over the echoing waters, serried ranks of great arched breakers white with foam.”

Finally, even the handsome Odysseus is made ugly and scary-looking by exposure to the sun and salt of the sea. In the “Odyssey,” this hero wanders at sea for 10 years on his way home from the Trojan War. At the end of his tribulations, he is barely hanging on to a raft during a storm sent by the angry sea god Poseidon. He finally lets go and swims to shore; when he lands on the island of the Phaeacians, he scares the attendants of the Princess Nausicaa with his sunburned skin, “all befouled with brine.”

A Greek vase showing a naked Odysseus begging from Athena and a young woman, Nausicaa.
A vase depicting Odysseus coming out of the sea and scaring the attendants of Princess Nausicaa. 440 B.C., Staatliche Antikensammlungen, Munich.
Carole Raddato/flickr, CC BY-SA

The sand of the beach and the sea itself were thought to be sterile, in contrast to the fertility of the fields. For this reason, the “Iliad” and “Odyssey” regularly call the sea “atrygetos” – meaning “unharvested.”

This conception of the sea as sterile is, of course, paradoxical, since the oceans supply about 2% of overall human calorie intake and 15% of protein intake – and could likely supply much more. The Greeks themselves ate plenty of fish, and many species were thought to be delicacies reserved for the wealthy.

Death at the beach

In ancient Greek literature, the beach was frightening and evoked death, and in fact, it was common to mourn deceased loved ones on the beach.

Tombs were frequently located by the sea, especially cenotaphs – empty graves meant to memorialize those who died at sea and whose bodies could not be recovered.

Ancient monument on top of a cliff by the sea.
An example of a Greek tomb by the sea. The tomb of the tyrant Kleoboulos on the island of Rhodes, Greece.
Manfred Werner (Tsui) via Wikimedia, CC BY-SA

This was a particularly cruel fate in the ancient world because those who could not be buried were condemned to wander around the Earth eternally as ghosts, while those who received proper funerals would go to the underworld. The Greek underworld was not a particularly desirable place to be – it was dank and dark, yet it was considered the respectable way to end one’s life.

In this way, as classical scholar Gabriela Cursaru has shown, the beach was a “liminal space” in Greek culture: a threshold between the worlds of the living and the dead.

Revelation and transformation

Yet the beach was not all bad for the Greeks. Because the beach acted as a bridge between sea and land, the Greeks thought that it also bridged between the worlds of the living, the dead and the gods. Therefore, the beach had the potential to offer omens, revelations and visions of the gods.

For this reason, many oracles of the dead, where the living could obtain information from the dead, were located on beaches and cliffs by the sea.

The gods, too, frequented the beach. They heard prayers and sometimes even appeared to their worshippers on the beach. In the “Iliad,” the god Apollo hears his priest Chryses complain on the beach about how his daughter is being mistreated by the Greeks. The angry god retaliates by immediately unleashing the plague on the Greek army, a disaster that can only be stopped by returning the girl to her father.

Besides these religious beliefs, the beach was also a physical point of connection between Greece and distant lands.

Enemy fleets, merchants and pirates were all apt to land on beaches or to frequent the coasts because ancient ships lacked the capability to stay at sea for long periods. In this way, the beach could be a fairly dangerous place, as military historian Jorit Wintjes has argued.

On the bright side, flotsam from shipwrecks could bring pleasant surprises, such as unexpected treasure – a turning point in many ancient Greek stories. For example, in the ancient novel “Daphnis and Chloe,” the poor goatherd Daphnis finds a purse on the beach, which allows him to marry Chloe and bring their love story to a happy conclusion.

Perhaps something remains today of this conception of the beach. Beachcombing is still a popular hobby, and some people even use metal detectors. Besides its demonstrated positive psychological effects, beachcombing speaks to the eternal human fascination for the sea and all the hidden treasures it can provide, from shells and sea glass to Spanish gold coins.

Just as it did for the Greeks, the beach can make us feel that we are on the threshold of a different world.

The Conversation

Marie-Claire Beaulieu 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 beach wasn’t always a vacation destination – for the ancient Greeks, it was a scary place – https://theconversation.com/the-beach-wasnt-always-a-vacation-destination-for-the-ancient-greeks-it-was-a-scary-place-259356

Why government support for religion doesn’t necessarily make people more religious

Source: The Conversation – USA (3) – By Brendan Szendro, Faculty Lecturer in Political Science, McGill University

History offers plenty of lessons about what happens when governments support faith groups – and it doesn’t always help them. cosmonaut/iStock via Getty Images Plus

The IRS will offer religious congregations more freedom to endorse political candidates without jeopardizing their tax-exempt status, the agency said in a July 2025 court filing. President Donald Trump has previously vowed to abolish the Johnson Amendment, which bars charitable nonprofits from taking part in political campaigns – although the latest move simply reinterprets the rule.

Celebrating the change, House Speaker Mike Johnson highlighted an argument that’s popular among some conservatives: that the Constitution does not actually require the separation of church and state.

Thomas Jefferson, who coined the phrase, did not intend “to keep religion from influencing issues of civil government,” Johnson wrote in a July 12 op-ed published on the social platform X. “The Founders wanted to protect the church from an encroaching state, not the other way around.”

Officials in several red states have challenged long-standing norms surrounding religion and state, ranging from introducing prayer and Bibles in public classrooms to attempts to secure government funding for religious schools.

Conservative thinkers have long pushed for closer ties between religion and the government, arguing that religious institutions can create strong communities. In my own research, I’ve found that mass shootings are less likely in a more religious environment.

For critics, of course, attempts to lower the wall of separation between church and state raise constitutional concerns. The First Amendment states that “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.” What’s more, critics fear that recent attempts to lower barriers between church and state favor conservative Christian groups over other faiths.

But as a scholar of religion and politics, I believe another reason for caution is being overlooked. Research indicates that strong relationships between religion and state can be a factor that actually decreases religious participation, rather than encouraging it.

All or nothing

Some scholars suggest that religious institutions operate like businesses in a marketplace, competing for believers. Government policies toward religion can change the balance of power between competing firms the same way that economic policies can affect markets for consumer goods.

At a glance, it might seem like government support would strengthen religious institutions. In reality, it can backfire, whether or not the government promotes one particular faith above others. In some cases, adherents who cannot practice religion on their own terms opt out of practicing it entirely.

In Israel, for example, Orthodox Jewish institutions receive government recognition that more liberal Jewish denominations do not. Orthodox authorities are allowed to manage religious sites, run public religious schools and perform marriages. Many couples who do not want to get married under Orthodox law, or cannot, hold a ceremony abroad or register as a common-law marriage.

A couple embraces side by side as they observe a small wedding in a wooded area.
Guests attend a wedding in Israel’s Ein Hemed National Park in December 2017.
AP Photo/Ariel Schalit

In fact, many scholars refer to Israel as an example of a religious “monopoly.” Because the government sponsors a particular branch, Orthodox Judaism, Jewish citizens sometimes face an “all or nothing” choice. The country’s Jewish population is sharply divided between people who are religiously observant and people who identify as secular.

Government involvement can also hurt religious institutions by making them seem less independent, decreasing people’s trust. In a 2023 study of 54 Christian-majority countries, political scientists Jonathan Fox and Jori Breslawski found that some adherents felt that religious institutions become less legitimate when backed by the government. In addition, support from the state decreased people’s confidence in government.

Their findings built on previous research showing that the public is less likely to contribute to faith-based charities and attend religious services when the government offers funding for religious institutions.

In fact, many of the world’s lowest rates of religiosity are found in wealthy countries that have official churches, or had one until relatively recently, such as Sweden. Others have a history of separating people of different faiths into their own schools and other institutions, such as Belgium and the Netherlands.

History lessons

Perhaps the strongest example of how government support for religion can decrease religious participation is found in the former Soviet Union and its allies.

During the Cold War, Soviet officials sought to stamp out religious activity among their citizens. However, policies to repress independent religious institutions worked hand in hand with policies to co-opt religious institutions that would work with the government. Access to religious spaces made it easier for officials to spy on members and punish clergy who protested their rule.

In Hungary, the Communist Party sponsored government-run Catholic churches that were cut off from the Vatican. In Romania, the regime integrated formerly Catholic Churches into a state Orthodox Church. In the former Czechoslovakia, meanwhile, the Communist Party paid clergy’s salaries to keep them subservient.

To this day, many countries in the former Eastern Bloc have low rates of religious participation. In Russia, for example, a majority of citizens call themselves Orthodox Christians, and the church wields influence in politics. Yet only 16% of adults say religion is “very important” in their lives.

While scholars can point to the legacy of overt repression as a source of low religiosity, government support of religious institutions is also a lingering factor. Most post-Soviet states inherited systems that require religious groups to register, and they only provide funding to faiths that the government considers legitimate. Similar policies remain common in southeastern and central Eastern Europe.

In recent years, some countries in the region, including Russia and Hungary, have experienced democratic backsliding at the hands of populist leaders who also politicize religion for their own gain. Because of low rates of religious practice in such countries, religious leaders may welcome government support.

Two men, one in black clerical robes, stand stiffly in an ornate room with gold-framed paintings.
In this photograph distributed by the Russian government news agency Sputnik, President Vladimir Putin and Russia’s Orthodox Patriarch, Kirill, visit the Annunciation Church of the Alexander Nevsky Lavra in Saint Petersburg on July 28, 2024.
Alexey Danichev/Pool/AFP via Getty Images

Free market for faith

Most wealthy countries have witnessed steep declines in religiosity in the modern era. The United States is an outlier.

Overall, the percentage of Americans belonging to a religious congregation is declining, as is the share of Americans who regularly attend worship services. However, the percentage of Americans who are intensely religious has remained unchanged over the past several decades. Around 29% of Americans report praying several times a day, for example, and just under 7% say they attend religious services more than once a week.

Some religion scholars argue that the “free-market approach” – where all faiths are free to compete for worshippers, without government interference or preference – is what makes America relatively religious. In other words, they believe that this so-called “American exception” is because of the separation between church and state, not in spite of it.

Time will tell if conservatives’ push for collaboration between religion and the government will continue, or have its intended effects. History suggests, however, that governments’ attempts to strengthen particular religious communities may backfire.

The Conversation

Brendan Szendro 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. Why government support for religion doesn’t necessarily make people more religious – https://theconversation.com/why-government-support-for-religion-doesnt-necessarily-make-people-more-religious-258541