In the build-up to the 2024 election, Keir Starmer worked hard to show that his party could run Britain better than the Tories. He promised his government would offer stability after years of chaos – but also change. He stood for honesty but also a technocratic approach that resisted the easy answers of the populist right. The grown ups would be back in charge.
A year on, as he marks his first year in office, we might ask: how much difference did Labour’s 2024 election win make in the longer trajectory of British life? Are historians in future likely to say (as they often do about the 1945 and 1979 elections) that it led to political and social transformation?
Of course, it’s too early to say for certain, but not too early to look for signs.
In electoral terms, Labour gained a stonking 174-seat majority in 2024. But this victory came off the back of a remarkably slim vote share of 33.7% in an election with a near-historically low turnout. That suggests an emotional connection had not been made with the electorate (although it also reflected the way that the traditional two-party system is falling apart).
This result has defined Labour since then. It is a government that is undoubtedly in power but with a leader who few really understand. At a conference on the Starmer government held at Anglia Ruskin University in June 2025, I asked the audience how many could produce a one-sentence summary of what the government’s ideology was. Only a few felt they could do so.
In July 2024, Labour promised change. But what did “change” mean? Starmer’s Labour has failed to really spell out its sense of purpose. Starmer admits that he finds ideas difficult. In this sense (and this sense alone) he resembles President George H.W. Bush, who admitted he had trouble with the “vision thing”.
Starmer looks for solutions to particular problems rather than offering a view of the kind of Britain he wants to create. Without some kind of clear ideological purpose, however, the government ends up merely reacting to events whereas it should be shaping the narrative.
The good, the bad, and the not-very-Labour
When Labour returned to power in 1945, 1964 and 1997, there had been extensive discussions about the direction of Labour policy and how it could change society. In 1945, Clement Attlee’s focus was on welfare. Harold Wilson in 1964 drew on Tony Crosland’s revisionist approach to socialism, while in 1997 Tony Blair promised a “third way” in politics, reflecting the ideas of intellectuals such as Anthony Giddens.
This openness to new ideas barely happened between 2020 and 2024 beyond a sense that Labour needed to re-connect with the “red wall” voters it had lost.
On top of this, the government has become known for doing some remarkably un-Labour things. In September 2024, it changed the rules on winter fuel benefits to limit them to only some pensioners (although it has since partially backtracked under immense pressure from Labour MPs).
It continues to resist calls to abolish the two child-benefit cap that restricts some forms of support to families with a maximum of two children, despite clear evidence that doing so is an easy way to reduce child poverty. Most catastrophically, it has been humiliated by a backbench rebellion which forced it to gut its welfare bill.
The government claims it is having to correct the dismal economic inheritance left by the Tories, preventing it from splashing the cash in the way Labour supporters want. Chancellor of the exchequer Rachel Reeves talks about “hard choices” in order to show how disciplined Labour is, thus hopefully reassuring investors and the bond market.
The result was the winter fuel payment crisis, which (despite a u-turn) threatens to become Labour’s poll tax – an iconic policy the electorate refuses to forgive.
Starmer and Reeves demonstrated very limited understanding of the politics of this decision: they seemed prepared to hurt poorer people while apparently leaving the wealthy largely untouched.
Starmer would argue that his government’s ideology has been expressed through its five missions, the most important of which is to stimulate economic growth. The June 2025 spending review was aimed at directing investment particularly towards the north of England and building infrastructure, including investment in transport. The government has also retained its focus on getting to net zero (which suggests a degree of radicalism).
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Another mission that is also more obviously Labour in character is rebuilding the NHS, particularly by reducing waiting lists. Breaking down barriers to opportunity (another mission) has led to investment in education and the creation of breakfast clubs so that all children start the day properly fed.
Labour still talks the language of class, recognising how poorer people face obstacles. Similarly, the focus on stopping crime and making Britain’s streets safe has echoes of both Jim Callaghan and Tony Blair. The government’s preparedness (so far) to negotiate increased pay awards in the public sector also suggests a distinctive Labour approach – evidence that it is not simply offering austerity-lite. Starmer has even started the process of renationalising the railways.
Despite claims that it is maintaining austerity, the government has increased public expenditure by the highest level in decades. In that sense, the 2024 election has led to a new direction for the country.
Labour can make the claim that it is building a state that can respond to the demands of an ageing population, in a challenging global environment, who will be affected by the results of climate change. This (in one sentence) should be its message.
A familiar refrain
If we look at the new government in historical perspective, we should note that it is not unusual for people to complain that Labour lacks ideology or a moral purpose: such things were said about every prime minister the party has produced, from Ramsay MacDonald onwards. Starmer may well seem better in retrospect.
The overall impression of the prime minister, however, is that he is consumed by caution. Much of the time his government seems to chase the talking points put out by Reform UK, the best example being the “island of strangers” speech.
It may be that future historians will argue that the real significance of the 2024 election was not Labour’s capture of seats but the way it exposed the latent support for Nigel Farage’s new party that had been building across the country. However, there are still several years to recover this legacy, should Starmer commit to learning from the mistakes made in the first year of his tenure.
Rohan McWilliam is affiliated with The Labour Party (ordinary member).
The U.S. Capitol is seen shortly after the Senate passed its version of the One Big Beautiful Bill Act on July 1, 2025. Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images
As the U.S. House of Representatives voted to approve President Donald Trump’s sweeping domestic tax and spending package, many critics are wondering how the president retained the loyalty of so many congressional Republicans, with so few defections.
Just three Republican senators – the maximum allowed for the One Big Beautiful Bill Act to still pass – voted against the Senate version of the bill on July 1, 2025. In the House, only two Republicans voted against the bill, which passed the chamber on July 3.
Trump is not the first president to bend Congress to his will to get legislation approved.
Presidential supremacy over the legislative process has been on the rise for decades. But contrary to popular belief, lawmakers are not always simply voting based on blind partisanship.
Increasingly, politicians in the same political party as a president are voting in line with the president because their political futures are as tied up with the president’s reputation as they have ever been.
Even when national polling indicates a policy is unpopular – as is the case with Trump’s budget reconciliation bill, which an estimated 55% of American voters said in June they oppose, according to Quinnipiac University polling – lawmakers in the president’s party have serious motivation to follow the president’s lead.
Or else they risk losing reelection.
Speaker of the House Mike Johnson speaks to reporters at the Capitol building on July 3, 2025. Alex Wong/Getty Images
Lawmakers increasingly partisan on presidential policy
Over the past 50 years, lawmakers in the president’s party have increasingly supported the president’s position on legislation that passes Congress. Opposition lawmakers, meanwhile, are increasingly united against the president’s position.
These patterns are unheard of in the modern Congress. In 2022, for example – a year of significant legislative achievement for the Biden administration – the Democratic majority in Congress voted the same way as the Democratic president 99% of the time. Republicans, meanwhile, voted with Biden just 19% of the time.
Elections can tell us why
Over the past half-century, the two major parties have changed dramatically, both in the absolutist nature of their beliefs and in relation to one another.
Both parties used to be more mixed in their ideological outlooks, for example, with conservative Democrats and liberal Republicans playing key roles in policymaking. This made it easier to form cross-party coalitions, either with or against the president.
A few decades ago, Democrats and Republicans were also less geographically polarized from each other. Democrats were regularly elected to congressional seats in the South, for example, even if those districts supported Republican presidents such as Nixon or Ronald Reagan.
These changes have ushered in a larger phenomenon called political nationalization, in which local political considerations, issues and candidate qualifications have taken a back seat to national politics.
Ticket splitting
From the 1960s through most of the 1980s, between one-quarter and one-half of all congressional districts routinely split tickets – meaning they sent a politician of one party to Congress while supporting a different party for president.
These are the same few districts in Nebraska and New York, for example, that supported former Vice President Kamala Harris for president in 2024 but which also elected a Republican candidate to the House that same year.
Since the Reagan years, however, these types of districts that could simultaneously support a Democratic presidential nominee and Republicans for Congress have gone nearly extinct. Today, only a handful of districts split their tickets, and all other districts select the same party for both offices.
The past two presidential elections, in 2020 and 2024, set the same record low for ticket splitting. Just 16 out of 435 House districts voted for different parties for the House of Representatives and president.
Members of Congress follow their voters
The political success of members of Congress has become increasingly tied up with the success or failure of the president. Because nearly all Republicans hail from districts and states that are very supportive of Trump and his agenda, following the will of their voters increasingly means being supportive of the president’s agenda.
Not doing so risks blowback from their Trump-supporting constituents. A June 2025 Quinnipiac University poll found that 67% of Republicans support the bill, while 87% of Democrats oppose it.
These electoral considerations also help explain the unanimous opposition to Trump’s legislation by the Democrats, nearly all of whom represent districts and states that did not support Trump in 2024.
Thanks to party polarization in ideologies, geography and in the electorate, few Democrats could survive politically while strongly supporting Trump. And few Republicans could do so while opposing him.
But as the importance to voters of mere presidential support increases, the importance of members’ skill in fighting for issues unique to their districts has decreased. This can leave important local concerns about, for example, unique local environmental issues or declining economic sectors unspoken for. At the very least, members have less incentive to speak for them.
Charlie Hunt 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.
Ancient wooden tools found at a site in Gantangqing in southwestern China are approximately 300,000 years old, new dating has shown. Discovered during excavations carried out in 2014–15 and 2018–19, the tools have now been dated by a team of archaeologists, geologists, chronologists (including me) and paleontologists.
The rare wooden tools were found alongside an assortment of animal and plant fossils and stone artifacts.
Taken together, the finds suggest the early humans at Gantangqing were surprisingly sophisticated woodworkers who lived in a rich tropical or subtropical environment where they subsisted by harvesting plants from a nearby lake.
The location of the Gantangqing site and excavation trenches. Liu et al. / Science
Why ancient wooden tools are so rare
Wood usually decomposes relatively rapidly due to microbial activity, oxidation, and weathering. Unlike stone or bone, it rarely survives more than a few centuries.
Wood can only survive for thousands of years or longer if it ends up buried in unusual conditions. Wood can last a long time in oxygen-free environments or extremely dry areas. Charred or fire-hardened wood is also more durable.
At Gantangqing, the wooden objects were excavated from low-oxygen clay-heavy layers of sediment formed on the ancient shoreline of Fuxian Lake.
Wooden implements are extremely rare from the Early Palaeolithic period (the first part of the “stone age” from around 3.3 million years ago until 300,000 years ago or so, in which our hominin ancestors first began to use tools). Indeed, wooden tools more than even 50,000 years old are virtually absent outside Africa and western Eurasia.
As a result, we may have a skewed understanding of Palaeolithic cultures. We may overemphasise the role of stone tools, for example, because they are what has survived.
What wooden tools were found at Gantangqing?
The new excavations at Gantangqing found 35 wooden specimens identified as artificially modified tools. These tools were primarily manufactured from pine wood, with a minority crafted from hardwoods.
Some of the tools had rounded ends, while others had chisel-like thin blades or ridged blades. Of the 35 tools, 32 show marks of intentional modification at their tips, working edges, or bases.
Two large digging implements were identified as heavy-duty digging sticks designed for two-handed use. These are unique forms of digging implements not documented elsewhere, suggesting localised functional adaptations. There were also four distinct hook-shaped tools — likely used for cutting roots — and a series of smaller tools for one-handed use.
Nineteen of the tools showed microscopic traces of scraping from shaping or use, while 17 exhibit deliberately polished surfaces. We also identified further evidence of intensive use, including soil residues stuck to tool tips, parallel grooves or streaks along working edges, and characteristic fracture wear patterns.
The tools from Gantangqing are more complete and show a wider range of functions than those found at contemporary sites such as Clacton in the UK and Florisbad in South Africa.
The team used several techniques to figure out the age of the wooden tools. There is no way to determine their age directly, but we can date the sediment in which they were found.
Using a technique called infrared stimulated luminescence, we analysed more than 10,000 individual grains of minerals from different layers. This showed the sediment was deposited roughly between 350,000 and 200,000 years ago.
Dating the different layers of sediment excavated at the site produced a detailed timeline. Liu et al. / Science
We also used different techniques to date a mammal tooth found in one of the layers to roughly 288,000 years old. This was consistent with the mineral results.
Next we used mathematical modelling to bring all the dating results together. Our model indicated that the layers containing stone tools and wooden implements date from 360–300,000 years ago to 290–250,000 years ago.
What was the environment like?
Our research indicates the ancient humans at Gantangqing inhabited a warm, humid, tropical or subtropical environment. Pollen extracted from the sediments reveals 40 plant families that confirm this climate.
Plant fossils further verify the presence of subtropical-to-tropical flora dominated by trees, lianas, shrubs and herbs. Wet-environment plants show the local surroundings were a lakeside or wetlands.
Animal fossils also fit this picture, including rhinoceros and other mammals, turtles and various birds. The ecosystem was likely a mosaic of grassland, thickets and forests. Evidence of diving ducks confirms the lake must have been at least 2–3 metres deep during human occupation.
The site contained evidence of plants such as storable pine nuts and hazelnuts, fruit trees such as kiwi, raspberry-like berries, grapes, edible herbs and fern fronds.
There were also aquatic plants that would have provided edible leaves, seeds, tubers and rhizomes. These were likely dug up from shallow mud near the shore, using wooden tools.
These findings suggest the Gantangqing hominins may have made expeditions to the lake shore, carrying purpose-made wooden digging sticks to harvest underground food sources. To do this, they would have had to anticipate seasonal plant distributions, know exactly what parts of different plants were edible, and produce specialised tools for different tasks.
Why the Gantangqing site is important
The wooden implements from Gantangqing represent the earliest known evidence for the use of digging sticks and for the exploitation of underground plant storage organs such as tubers within the Oriental biogeographic realm. Our discovery shows the use of sophisticated wood technology in a very different environmental context from what has been seen at sites of similar age in Europe and Africa.
The find significantly expands our understanding of early hominin woodworking capabilities.
The hominins who lived at Gantangqing appear to have lived a heavily plant-based subsistence lifestyle. This is in contrast to colder, more northern settings where tools of similar age have been found (such as Schöningen in Germany), where hunting large mammals was the key to survival.
The site also shows how important wood – and perhaps other organic materials – were to “stone age” hominins. These wooden artifacts show far more sophisticated manufacturing skill than the relative rudimentary stone tools found at sites of similar age across East and Southeast Asia.
The excavation, curation, and research of the Gantangqing site were supported by
National Cultural Heritage Administration (China), Yunnan Provincial Institute of
Cultural Relics and Archaeology, Yuxi Municipal Bureau of Culture and Tourism,
Chengjiang Municipal Bureau of Culture and Tourism, Australian Research Council
(ARC) Discovery Projects, Strategic Priority Research Program of the Chinese
Academy of Sciences, Hong Kong Research Grants Council (RGC), National Natural
Science Foundation of China (NSFC).
When asked what MAGA means to him, Trump, in a 2017 interview with The Washington Post said, “To me, it meant jobs. It meant industry, and meant military strength. It meant taking care of our veterans. It meant so much.”
But Democratic leaders have a different interpretation of the slogan.
Former President Bill Clinton in 2016 said of MAGA: “That message where ‘I’ll give you America great again’ is if you’re a white Southerner, you know exactly what it means, don’t you? What it means is ‘I’ll give you an economy you had 50 years ago, and I’ll move you back up on the social totem pole and other people down.”
While MAGA is ubiquitous, little is known about what it means to the American public. Ten years on, what do Americans think when they hear or read this phrase?
Based on the analysis of Americans’ explanations of what “Make America Great Again” means to them, we found evidence suggesting that the public’s views of MAGA mirror the perspectives offered by both Trump and Clinton.
Republicans interpret this phrase as a call for the renewal of the U.S. economy and military might, as well as a return to “traditional” values, especially those relating to gender roles and gender identities. Democrats, we found, view MAGA as a call for a return to white supremacy and growing authoritarianism.
Donald Trump rides an escalator to a press event to announce his candidacy for the U.S. presidency at Trump Tower on June 16, 2015, in New York City. Christopher Gregory/Getty Images
The survey question was open-ended, allowing respondents to define this phrase in any way they saw fit. We used AI-based thematic analysis and qualitative reading of the responses to better understand how Democrats and Republicans define the slogan.
For our AI-based thematic analysis, we instructed ChatGPT to provide three overarching themes most touched upon by Democratic and Republican respondents. This approach follows recent research demonstrating that, when properly instructed, ChatGPT reliably identifies broad themes in collections of texts.
Republican interpretation of MAGA
Our analysis shows that Republicans view the slogan as representing the “American dream.” In part, MAGA is about restoring the nation’s pride and economic strength. Reflecting these themes, one Republican respondent wrote that MAGA means “encouraging manufacturers to hire Americans and strengthen the economy. Making the USA self-sufficient as it once was.”
MAGA is also closely related among Republicans with an “America First” policy. This is partly about having a strong military – a common theme among Republican respondents – and “making America the superpower” again, one respondent wrote.
Republicans also wrote that putting America first means emphasizing strict enforcement of immigration laws against “illegals” and cutting off foreign aid. For example, one Republican respondent said that MAGA meant “stopping illegals at the border, ending freebies for illegals, adding more police and building a strong military.”
Finally, Republicans see the slogan as calling for a return to “traditional” values. They expressed a strong desire to reverse cultural shifts that Republican respondents perceive as a threat.
As one Republican put it, MAGA “means going back to where men would join the military, women were home raising healthy minded children and it was easy to be successful, the crime rate was extremely low and it used to be safe for kids to hang out on the streets with other kids and even walk themselves places.”
Another Republican made the connection between MAGA and traditional gender roles even more explicit, highlighting the link between MAGA and opposition to transgender rights: “MAGA people know there are only 2 sexes and a man can never be a woman. If you believe otherwise you are destroying AMERICA.”
A banner showing a picture of President Donald Trump is displayed outside of the U.S. Department of Agriculture building on June 3, 2025, in Washington, D.C. Kevin Carter/Getty Images
Democratic MAGA views
Democrats have a very different understanding of the MAGA slogan. Many Democrats view MAGA as a white supremacist movement designed to protect the status of white people and undermine the civil rights of marginalized groups.
One Democrat argued that “‘Make America Great Again’ is a standard borne by people who’ve seen a decrease in the potency of their privilege (see: cisgendered white men) and wish to see their privilege restored or strengthened. In essence, it’s a chant for all racist, fascist and otherwise bigoted actors to unite under.”
Another Democrat wrote that MAGA was a call to “take us backwards as a society in regards to women’s, minority’s, and LGBTQ people’s rights … It would take us to a time when only White men ruled.”
Democrats also view MAGA as a form of nostalgia for a heavily mythologized past. Many Democratic respondents described the past longed for by Republicans as a “myth” or “fairytale.” Others argued that this mythologized past, though appealing on the surface, was repressive for many Americans.
One Democrat said that MAGA meant “returning America to a fantasy version of the past with the goal of advancing the success of white, straight, wealthy men by any means necessary and almost always to the detriment of other segments of the population.”
A person holds a ‘Trump won’t erase us’ sign while walking in the WorldPride Parade on June 7, 2025, in Washington, D.C. Kevin Carter/Getty Images
Finally, many Democrats interpret the slogan as reflecting an authoritarian cult of personality. In this vein, a Democratic respondent said of MAGA, “It’s a call to arms for MAGA cult members, who believe that Trump and the Republicans party will somehow improve their lives by targeting people and policies they don’t like, even when it is against their best interests and any rational thought process.”
While some Republicans expressed racist, xenophobic or anti-trans sentiments in their understanding of MAGA, some Democrats revealed outright condescension toward MAGA believers.
“The MAGA’s are brainwashed, idiotic members of society who know nothing more than to follow the lead of an idiotic president who has the vocabulary of a 3rd grader,” one Democrat wrote. “It is nonsense idiots parrot,” another respondent said.
In all, in the 10 years since Donald Trump burst onto the political scene, much has been written about the conflicting visions of past, present and future at the heart of America’s partisan divisions.
With the Trump administration’s proclaimed commitment to return the U.S. to its “golden age” and a strong resistance to his efforts, only time will tell which vision of America will prevail.
Jesse Rhodes has received funding from the National Science Foundation, the Spencer Foundation, and Demos. He is a member of the American Civil Liberties Union.
Douglas Rice has received funding from the National Science Foundation.
Adam Eichen, Gregory Wall, and Tatishe Nteta 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.
Satellite photo of rural Saga prefecture, Japan, showing farmland disuse, consolidation and intensification and urban development.Google Earth Pro, CC BY-NC-ND
Since 1970, 73% of global wildlife has been lost, while the world’s population has doubled to 8 billion. Research shows this isn’t a coincidence but that population growth is causing a catastrophic decline in biodiversity.
Yet a turning point in human history is underway. According to UN projections, the number of people in 85 countries will be shrinking by 2050, mostly in Europe and Asia. By 2100, the human population is on course for global decline. Some say this will be good for the environment.
In 2010, Japan became the first Asian country to begin depopulating. South Korea, China and Taiwan are following close behind. In 2014, Italy was the first in southern Europe, followed by Spain, Portugal and others. We call Japan and Italy “depopulation vanguard countries” on account of their role as forerunners for understanding possible consequences in their regions.
Given assumptions that depopulation could help deliver environmental restoration, we have been working with colleagues Yang Li and Taku Fujita to investigate whether Japan is experiencing what we have termed a biodiversity “depopulation dividend” or something else.
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Since 2003, hundreds of citizen scientists have been collecting biodiversity data for the Japanese government’s Monitoring Sites 1,000 project. We used 1.5 million recorded species observations from 158 sites.
These were in wooded, agricultural and peri-urban (transitional spaces on outskirts of cities) areas. We compared these observations against changes in local population, land use and surface temperature for periods of five to 20 years.
Our study, published in the journal Nature Sustainability, includes birds, butterflies, fireflies, frogs and 2,922 native and non-native plants. These landscapes have experienced the greatest depopulation since the 1990s.
Due to the size of our database, choice of sites and the positioning of Japan as a depopulation vanguard for north-east Asia, this is one of the largest studies of its kind.
Japan is not Chernobyl
Biodiversity continued to decrease in most of the areas we studied, irrespective of population increase or decrease. Only where the population remains steady is biodiversity more stable. However, the population of these areas is ageing and will decline soon, bringing them in line with the areas already seeing biodiversity loss.
Unlike in Chernobyl, where a sudden crisis caused an almost total evacuation which stimulated startling accounts of wildlife revival, Japan’s population loss has developed gradually. Here, a mosaic pattern of changing land use emerges amid still-functioning communities.
While most farmland remains under cultivation, some falls into disuse or abandonment, some is sold for urban development or transformed into intensively farmed landscapes. This prevents widespread natural succession of plant growth or afforestation (planting of new trees) that would enrich biodiversity.
In these areas, humans are agents of ecosystem sustainability. Traditional farming and seasonal livelihood practices, such as flooding, planting and harvesting of rice fields, orchard and coppice management, and property upkeep, are important for maintaining biodiversity. So depopulation can be destructive to nature. Some species thrive, but these are often non-native ones that present other challenges, such as the drying and choking of formerly wet rice paddy fields by invasive grasses.
Vacant and derelict buildings, underused infrastructure and socio-legal issues (such as complicated inheritance laws and land taxes, lack of local authority administrative capacity, and high demolition and disposal costs) all compound the problem.
An abandoned house, or akiya, in Niigata prefecture, Japan. Peter Matanle, CC BY-NC-ND
Even as the number of akiya (empty, disused or abandoned houses) increases to nearly 15% of the nation’s housing stock, the construction of new dwellings continues remorselessly. In 2024, more than 790,000 were built, due partly to Japan’s changing population distribution and household composition. Alongside these come roads, shopping malls, sports facilities, car parks and Japan’s ubiquitous convenience stores. All in all, wildlife has less space and fewer niches to inhabit, despite there being fewer people.
What can be done?
Data shows deepening depopulation in Japan and north-east Asia. Fertility rates remain low in most developed countries. Immigration provides only a short-term softer landing, as countries currently supplying migrants, such as Vietnam, are also on course for depopulation.
Our research demonstrates that biodiversity recovery needs to be actively managed, especially in depopulating areas. Despite this there are only a few rewilding projects in Japan. To help these develop, local authorities could be given powers to convert disused land into locally managed community conservancies.
Nature depletion is a systemic risk to global economic stability. Ecological risks, such as fish stock declines or deforestation, need better accountability from governments and corporations. Rather than spend on more infrastructure for an ever-dwindling population, for example, Japanese companies could invest in growing local natural forests for carbon credits.
Depopulation is emerging as a 21st-century global megatrend. Handled well, depopulation could help reduce the world’s most pressing environmental problems, including resource and energy use, emissions and waste, and nature conservation. But it needs to be actively managed for those opportunities to be realised.
Don’t have time to read about climate change as much as you’d like?
Kei Uchida received funding from JSPS Kakenhi 20K20002.
Masayoshi K. Hiraiwa 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.
After the Egyptian pharaoh Hatshepsut died around 1458 BCE, many statues of her were destroyed. Archaeologists believed that they were targeted in an act of revenge by Thutmose III, her successor. Yet the condition of the statues recovered in the vicinity of her mortuary temple varies and many survive with their faces virtually intact.
Now a new study by archaeologist Jun Yi Wong re-examines the original excavations and offers an alternative explanation. Much of the damage may in fact be from the “ritual deactivation” of the statues and their reuse as raw material. We asked him to explain.
Who was Queen Hatshepsut and why was she important?
Hatshepsut ruled as the pharaoh of Egypt around 3,500 years ago. Her reign was an exceptionally successful one – she was a prolific builder of monuments, and her reign saw great innovations in art and architecture. As a result, some regard her as one of the greatest rulers – male or female – in ancient Egypt. She has also been described as the “first great woman in history”.
Hatshepsut was the wife and half sister of pharaoh Thutmose II. Following the premature death of her husband, she acted as regent for her stepson, the young Thutmose III. However, about seven years later, Hatshepsut ascended the throne and declared herself ruler of Egypt.
Why was it believed her statues were destroyed in revenge?
After her death, Hatshepsut’s names and representations such as statues were systematically erased from her monuments. This event, often called the “proscription” of Hatshepsut, is currently part of my wider research.
There’s little doubt that this destruction began during the time of Thutmose III, since some of Hatshepsut’s erased representations were found concealed by his new constructions.
The statues that formed the subject of my recently published study were discovered in the 1920s. By this time, Thutmose III’s proscription of Hatshepsut was already well known, so it was immediately (and rightly) assumed it was caused during his reign. Some of the broken statues were even found underneath a causeway built by Thutmose III, so there is little doubt that their destruction took place during his reign.
Because the statues were found in fragments, early archaeologists assumed that they must have been broken up violently, perhaps due to Thutmose III’s animosity towards Hatshepsut. For instance, Herbert Winlock, the archaeologist who led the excavations of 1922 to 1928, remarked that Thutmose III must have “decreed the destruction of every portrait of (Hatshepsut) in existence” and that
Every conceivable indignity had been heaped on the likeness of the fallen Queen.
The problem with such an interpretation is that some of Hatshepsut’s statues have survived in relatively good condition, with their faces virtually intact. Why was there such a great variation in the treatment of the statues? That was essentially the main question of my research.
How did you go about finding the answer?
It was clear that the damage to Hatshepsut’s statues was not caused solely by Thutmose III. Many of them were left exposed and not buried, and many were reused as building material. Indeed, not far from where the statues were discovered, the archaeologists found a stone house that was partially built using fragments of her statues.
Of course, the question is to what extent these reuse activities added to the damage of the statues. Fortunately, the archaeologists who excavated the statues left behind field notes that are quite detailed.
Based on this archival material, it is possible to reconstruct the locations in which many of these statues were found.
The results were quite intriguing: statues that are scattered over large areas, or have significant missing parts, tend to have sustained significant damage to their faces. In contrast, statues found in a relatively complete condition typically have their faces fully intact.
In other words, statues that were subjected to heavy reuse activities are far more likely to have sustained facial damage.
Therefore, it is likely that Thutmose III was not responsible for the facial damage sustained by the statues. Instead, the destruction that he was responsible for was far more specific, namely the breaking of these statues across their neck, waist and knees.
This form of treatment is not unique to Hatshepsut’s statues.
Fascinating. So what does this mean?
The practice of breaking royal statues across their neck, waist and knees is common in ancient Egypt. It’s often referred to as the “deactivation” of statues.
For the ancient Egyptians, statues were more than just images. For example, newly made statues underwent a rite known as the opening of the mouth, where they were ritually brought to life. Since statues were regarded as living and powerful objects, their inherent power had to be neutralised before they could be discarded.
Indeed, one of the most extraordinary discoveries in Egyptian archaeology is the Karnak Cachette, where hundreds of royal statues were found buried in a single deposit. The vast majority of the statues have been “deactivated”, even though most of them depict pharaohs who were never subjected to any hostilities after their death.
This suggests that the destruction of Hatshepsut’s statues was motivated mainly by ritualistic and pragmatic reasons, rather than revenge or animosity. This, of course, changes the way that her relationship with Thutmose III is understood.
Jun Yi Wong receives funding from the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation.
The US president, Donald Trump, says that Israel has agreed to terms for a 60-day ceasefire in Gaza. If that sounds familiar, it is.
The idea of a two-month truce has been discussed since the collapse of the last shortlived ceasefire in March. A similar proposal was floated in May, but Hamas viewed it as an enabling mechanism for Israel to continue the war after a brief pause, rather than reaching a permanent peace deal.
As the devastation in Gaza worsens by the day, will this time be any different?
The proposal, put forward by Qatari mediators, reportedly involves Hamas releasing ten living hostages and the bodies of 18 deceased hostages over the 60-day period, in exchange for the release of a number of Palestinian prisoners.
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The remaining 22 hostages would be released if a long-term deal is reached. The 60-day ceasefire period would also involve negotiations for a permanent end to hostilities and a roadmap for post-war governance in Gaza.
But the plan is similar to the eight-week, three-phase ceasefire from January to March of this year, which collapsed after the first phase of hostage exchanges. Since then peace talks have hit a recurrent impasse.
For Hamas, a long-term ceasefire means the permanent end to the war and the withdrawal of Israeli forces from Gaza. Israel, meanwhile, wants to see the complete removal of Hamas from power, the dismantling and disarming of its military wing and the exile of remaining senior Hamas leaders.
But despite the persistent challenges, there are several reasons that this attempt for a ceasefire might be different. First and foremost is the recent so-called “12-day war” between Israel and Iran, which Israel has trumpeted as a major success for degrading Iran’s nuclear capabilities (although the reality is more nuanced).
The perceived win gives Israel’s prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, political maneuverability to pursue a ceasefire over the objections of far-right hardliners in his coalition who have threatened to bring down the government in previous rounds.
The Iran-Israel war, in which the US controversially carried out strikes on Iran’s nuclear sites, also revived Trump’s interest in the Middle East. Trump entered office just as the phased Gaza ceasefire deal was being agreed. But Trump put little diplomatic pressure on Israel to engage in serious talks to get from the first phase of the agreement to phase two, allowing the war to resume in March.
Now however, after assisting Israel militarily in Iran, Trump has significant leverage he can use with Netanyahu. He will have the chance to use it (if he chooses) when Netanyahu visits Washington next week.
Both men also view Iran’s weakened position as an opportunity for expanding the Abraham accords. This was the set of agreements normalising relations between Israel and several Arab states, including the United Arab Emirates, Bahrain, Sudan and Morocco, which Trump brokered at the end of his first term.
Netanyahu has long eyed a US-backed deal with Saudi Arabia, and a smaller-scale declaration with Syria is reportedly now under discussion as well. But those deals can’t move forward while the war in Gaza is going.
Additional obstacles
However, the recurrent obstacles to a deal remain – and it’s unclear if the proposed terms will include guarantees to prevent Israel resuming the war after the 60-day period.
New issues have also arisen since the last round of talks that could create further challenges. Hamas is demanding a return to traditional humanitarian aid distribution in Gaza – or at least the replacement of the controversial US and Israeli-backed Gaza Humanitarian Foundation (GHF).
The GHF’s four distribution sites, located in militarised zones, replaced over 400 previously operating aid points, and more than 400 people have been killed while seeking aid near the sites, since May 26. More than 170 international non-governmental organisations and charities have called for the GHF to be shut down.
Israel’s military control over Gaza has also become further entrenched since the last ceasefire. More than 80% is thought to be covered by evacuation orders – and new orders for north Gaza and Gaza City were issued on June 29 and July 2 respectively.
Israeli officials have described the renewed operations as military pressure on Hamas to accept a ceasefire. But Netanyahu has also spoken openly about long-term military occupation of Gaza.
He recently stated that Israel would remain in “full security control of Gaza” even after the war. Even if a temporary ceasefire is agreed, the road ahead is strewn with difficulties in moving towards a long-lasting ceasefire or reaching an acceptable “day-after” agreement.
Still, the current moment offers an opportunity for a breakthrough. Trump has a renewed interest in getting to a ceasefire and Netanyahu has a rare political window to enter an agreement and get hostages home. Hamas, meanwhile, has been weakened, not only by Israel’s relentless military pounding, but by increasing disillusionment from the people of Gaza, who are desperate for an end to the war.
There is no shortage of reasons to end the war in Gaza. The only question is if Israel and Hamas have the will to do so.
Julie M. Norman 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.
View of the United Nations logo at a 2022 conference of the Parties to the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons.Angela Weiss/AFP via Getty Images)
While the U.S. military’s strikes on Iran on June 21, 2025, are believed to have damaged the country’s critical nuclear infrastructure, no evidence has yet emerged showing the program to have been completely destroyed. In fact, an early U.S. Defense Intelligence Agency assessment surmised that the attack merely delayed Iran’s possible path to a nuclear weapon by less than six months. Further, Rafael Mariano Grossi, director of the United Nations’ International Atomic Energy Agency, stated that Iran may have moved its supply of enriched uranium ahead of the strikes, and assessed that Tehran could resume uranium enrichment “in a matter of months.”
As a scholar of nuclear nonproliferation, my research indicates that military strikes, such as the U.S. one against Iran, tend not to work. Diplomacy — involving broad and resolute international efforts — offers a more strategically effective way to preempt a country from obtaining a nuclear arsenal.
Yet neither military operation reliably or completely terminated the targeted program. Many experts of nuclear strategy believe that while the Israeli strike destroyed the Osirak complex, it likely accelerated Iraq’s fledgling nuclear program, increasing Saddam Hussein’s commitment to pursue a nuclear weapon.
In a similar vein, while Israeli airstrikes destroyed Syria’s nascent nuclear facility, evidence soon emerged that the country, under its former leader, Bashar Assad, may have continued its nuclear activities elsewhere.
Based on my appraisal of similar cases, the record shows that diplomacy has been a more consistently reliable strategy than military force for getting a targeted country to denuclearize.
The tactics involved in nuclear diplomacy include bilateral and multilateral engagement efforts and economic tools ranging from comprehensive sanctions to transformative aid and trade incentives. Travel and cultural sanctions – including bans on participating in international sporting and other events – can also contribute to the effectiveness of denuclearization diplomacy.
The high point of denuclearization diplomacy came in 1970, when the majority of the world signed the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons. The treaty obliged nonnuclear weapons states to refrain from pursuing them, and existing nuclear powers to share civilian nuclear power technology and work toward eventual nuclear weapons disarmament.
I’ve found that in a majority of cases since then – notably in Argentina, Brazil, Libya, South Africa, South Korea and Taiwan – diplomacy played a pivotal role in convincing nuclear-seeking nations to entirely and permanently relinquish their pursuit of nuclear weapons.
Case studies of nuclear diplomacy
In the cases of U.S. allies Argentina, Brazil, South Korea and Taiwan, the military option was off the table for Washington, which instead successfully used diplomatic pressure to compel these countries to discontinue their nuclear programs. This involved the imposition of significant economic and technological sanctions on Argentina and Brazil in the late-1970s, which substantially contributed to the denuclearization of South America. In the South Korea and Taiwan cases, the threat of economic sanctions was effectively coupled with the risk of losing U.S. military aid and security guarantees.
In the case of Iraq, the Hussein regime eventually did denuclearize in the 1990s, but not through a deal negotiated directly with the U.S. or the international community. Rather, Hussein’s decision was motivated by the damaging economic and technological costs of the U.N. sanctions and his desire to see them lifted after the first Gulf War.
In the 11 countries in which diplomacy was used to reverse nuclear proliferation, only in the cases of India and Pakistan did it fail to induce any nuclear reversal.
Consistent with the historical track record for diplomacy concerning other nuclear powers, Iran offers compelling evidence of what diplomacy can achieve in lieu of military force.
Diplomatic negotiations between the U.S, Iran and five leading powers yielded the landmark Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action in 2015. The so-called Iran deal involved multilateral diplomacy and a set of economic sanctions and incentives, and persuaded Iran to place stringent limits on its nuclear program for at least 10 years and ship tons of enriched uranium out of the country. A report from the International Atomic Energy Agency in 2016 confirmed that Iran had abided by the terms of the agreement. Consequently, the U.S., European Union and U.N. responded by lifting sanctions.
Representatives of the nations involved in signing the 2015 Iran nuclear deal pose for a group photo following talks in July 2015. AP Photo/Ronald Zak
Trump signaled quickly after the recent attack on Iran a willingness to engage in direct talks with Tehran. However, Iran may rebuff any agreement that effectively contains its nuclear program, opting instead for the intensified underground approach Iraq took after the 1981 Osirak attack.
Indeed, my research shows that combining military threats with diplomacy reduces the prospects of successfully reaching a disarmament agreement. Nations will be more reluctant to disarm when their negotiating counterpart adopts a threatening and combative posture, as it heightens their fear that disarmament will make it more vulnerable to future aggression from the opposing country.
A return to an Iran nuclear deal?
Successful denuclearization diplomacy with Iran will not be a panacea for Middle East stability; the U.S. will continue to harbor concerns about Iran’s military-related actions and relationships in the region.
It is, after all, unlikely that any U.S. administration could strike a deal with Tehran on nuclear policy that would simultaneously settle all outstanding issues and resolve decades of mutual acrimony.
But by signing and abiding to the terms of the JCPOA, Iran has demonstrated a willingness to cooperate on the nuclear issue in the past. Under the agreement, Iran accepted a highly limited and low-proliferation-risk nuclear program subject to intrusive inspections by the international community.
That arrangement was beneficial for regional stability and for buttressing the global norm against nuclear proliferation. A return to a JCPOA-type agreement would reinforce a diplomatic approach to relations with Iran and create an opening for progress with the country on other areas of concern.
Stephen Collins 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.
Ruth First, born 100 years ago, was a South African freedom fighter, journalist and scholar who worked against the racist system of apartheid during white minority rule. She was assassinated by apartheid forces in her office at the Eduardo Mondlane University in Mozambique in 1982.
Her ideas, work and legacy live on. Sociologists Saleem Badat and Vasu Reddy have edited a new book called Research and Activism: Ruth First & Activist Research. We asked them about her and their project.
Who was Ruth First?
Heloise Ruth First was born on 4 May 1925 in Johannesburg to Jewish parents who had migrated from eastern Europe to South Africa in the early 1900s. Her parents were founder members of the South African Communist Party.
She joined the Young Communist League and the Federation of Progressive Students and graduated from the University of the Witwatersrand in 1946 with a Bachelor of Arts degree.
At 21, First joined the left-wing South African newspaper The Guardian. When it was banned, the New Age took its place until it too was banned in 1962. She served as the newspaper’s Johannesburg editor for 17 years.
In 1963, First was arrested at the University of the Witwatersrand library and held in solitary confinement for 117 days, during which time she was ruthlessly interrogated. The following year she and her three children left South Africa for England on an exit permit, where they joined her partner, the activist and politician Joe Slovo. She would not set foot again in South Africa. Continuing with her activist research in England, she taught at Durham University and then joined Eduardo Mondlane University until hear death.
The mid-1940s to early 1960s were tumultuous years in South Africa. With the rise of formal apartheid in 1948, racial segregation was intensified.
First’s intrepid and penetrating journalistic research exposed her to the brutality of labour exploitation and control on the mines and the farms. It reinforced her understanding of South Africa in Marxist terms.
The will to fight is born out of the desire for freedom.
She was confident that:
The power of the people is greater than the power of any government.
First believed that ignorance is “the enemy of progress and justice” and that knowledge and education are “key to empowering individuals and challenging oppressive systems”. These words ring true in today’s global events driven by right-wing authoritarianism, US imperialism and acts of genocide.
On learning of her death, former South African President Nelson Mandela recalled:
I was in prison when Ruth First was assassinated, felt almost alone. Lost a sister in arms … It is no consolation to know that she lives beyond her grave.
What is activist research and how is it applied in the book?
As authors, we revisit Ruth First’s life, work and ideas and its relevance for the current context. We focus especially on the nature of her scholarship and how she navigated the tensions between her activism and her research – whether journalistic or for her books on South West Africa (today’s Namibia), Libya or western investment in apartheid. Other of her acclaimed books included The Barrel of a Gun: Political Power in Africa and the Coup d’etat and, during her Mozambican sojourn, Black Gold: The Mozambican Miner, Proletarian and Peasant.
In the process we invite renewed critical reflection about her life and work. Inspired by First’s contributions, the book considers how universities and scholars engage with institutions and social movements beyond the university.
For example, in the book a research group from Durham University in the UK considers how to balance objectivity (showing no bias) with more politically participatory research methods and how objectivity can be enhanced despite the difficulties faced by activist research.
Other scholars reflect on the work of the assassinated South African anti-apartheid activist scholar and lecturer Rick Turner; on climate change; and on the complexities of undertaking activist research in Marikana with a women’s organisation, Sikhala Sonke. Marikana was the site where South African police opened fire on and killed 34 striking mineworkers in 2012.
There is examination of a research partnership between University of Cape Town activist scholars and some Khoi-San communities, reflection on the challenges of legal practice and education, and critical analysis of the decolonisation challenges of the KwaZulu-Natal Society of the Arts.
How do you frame activist research in your book?
The book shows that there is a difference between engaged research, critical research and activist research.
Engaged research tries to connect knowledge produced by academics with institutions, movements and experts outside the university to collaboratively address issues and promote cooperation.
Critical research uses radical critical theory to critique oppression and injustice, to show the gap between what exists today and more just ways of living. However, it does not necessarily connect with political and social movements.
First’s research was not only engaged, but also critical in orientation and activist in nature. As activist research it challenged oppression and inequality.
It both critiqued the status quo in South Africa and elsewhere and tried to change it. It was linked with movements and connected to political activism that was anti-colonial, anti-imperialist, and committed to socialism.
First’s activist research did not confine itself to the academic arena but engaged with larger, wider and more diverse publics. It used this experience to critique dominant and often limited thinking at universities and promoted other ways of producing knowledge. The expertise developed was used to improve scholarship in various ways.
What do you want readers to take away?
There is much talk about the “engaged university” and engaged research. However, only certain connections and engagements seem to be valued.
Prior to democracy in 1994, South African researchers connected with social movements for change. Now this is seldom the case. Universities and scholars largely engage with those with money – the state, business, elites and donors.
This raises questions about the roles of researchers in South Africa, whose interests are prioritised and the place of critical and activist research in the engaged university.
How should Ruth First be remembered?
We must honour her for her intellectual and practical activism. What matters is not just her knowledge archive, but also her example as both an outstanding interpreter of the world and an activist scholar committed to changing society in the interests of the downtrodden, marginalised and voiceless.
First was a critical and independent thinker who refused to accept anything as settled and beyond questioning. But that intellect was committed to loyalty to the national liberation movement of which she was an invaluable cadre.
The views expressed in this piece do not reflect or represent the position of the university to which Badat and Reddy are affiliated.
Saleem Badat receives funding from the National Institute for Humanities and Social Sciences and the Andrew W Mellon Foundation. He is a board member of the International Consortium for Critical Theory Programs and Alameda.
Vasu Reddy currently receives no external funding. He serves on the board of the Human Sciences Research Council Press
The global ecosystem of climate finance is complex, constantly changing and sometimes hard to understand. But understanding it is critical to demanding a green transition that’s just and fair. That’s why The Conversation has collaborated with climate finance experts to create this user-friendly guide, in partnership with Vogue Business. With definitions and short videos, we’ll add to this glossary as new terms emerge.
Blue bonds
Blue bonds are debt instruments designed to finance ocean-related conservation, like protecting coral reefs or sustainable fishing. They’re modelled after green bonds but focus specifically on the health of marine ecosystems – this is a key pillar of climate stability.
By investing in blue bonds, governments and private investors can fund marine projects that deliver both environmental benefits and long-term financial returns. Seychelles issued the first blue bond in 2018. Now, more are emerging as ocean conservation becomes a greater priority for global sustainability efforts.
By Narmin Nahidi, assistant professor in finance at the University of Exeter
Carbon border adjustment mechanism
Did you know that imported steel could soon face a carbon tax at the EU border? That’s because the carbon border adjustment mechanism is about to shake up the way we trade, produce and price carbon.
The carbon border adjustment mechanism is a proposed EU policy to put a carbon price on imports like iron, cement, fertiliser, aluminium and electricity. If a product is made in a country with weaker climate policies, the importer must pay the difference between that country’s carbon price and the EU’s. The goal is to avoid “carbon leakage” – when companies relocate to avoid emissions rules and to ensure fair competition on climate action.
But this mechanism is more than just a tariff tool. It’s a bold attempt to reshape global trade. Countries exporting to the EU may be pushed to adopt greener manufacturing or face higher tariffs.
The carbon border adjustment mechanism is controversial: some call it climate protectionism, others argue it could incentivise low-carbon innovation worldwide and be vital for achieving climate justice. Many developing nations worry it could penalise them unfairly unless there’s climate finance to support greener transitions.
Carbon border adjustment mechanism is still evolving, but it’s already forcing companies, investors and governments to rethink emissions accounting, supply chains and competitiveness. It’s a carbon price with global consequences.
By Narmin Nahidi, assistant professor in finance at the University of Exeter
Carbon budget
The Paris agreement aims to limit global warming to 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels by 2030. The carbon budget is the maximum amount of CO₂ emissions allowed, if we want a 67% chance of staying within this limit. The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) estimates that the remaining carbon budgets amount to 400 billion tonnes of CO₂ from 2020 onwards.
Think of the carbon budget as a climate allowance. Once it has been spent, the risk of extreme weather or sea level rise increases sharply. If emissions continue unchecked, the budget will be exhausted within years, risking severe climate consequences. The IPCC sets the global carbon budget based on climate science, and governments use this framework to set national emission targets, climate policies and pathways to net zero emissions.
By Dongna Zhang, assistant professor in economics and finance, Northumbria University
Carbon credits
Carbon credits are like a permit that allow companies to release a certain amount of carbon into the air. One credit usually equals one tonne of CO₂. These credits are issued by the local government or another authorised body and can be bought and sold. Think of it like a budget allowance for pollution. It encourages cuts in carbon emissions each year to stay within those global climate targets.
The aim is to put a price on carbon to encourage cuts in emissions. If a company reduces its emissions and has leftover credits, it can sell them to another company that is going over its limit. But there are issues. Some argue that carbon credit schemes allow polluters to pay their way out of real change, and not all credits are from trustworthy projects. Although carbon credits can play a role in addressing the climate crisis, they are not a solution on their own.
By Sankar Sivarajah, professor of circular economy, Kingston University London
Carbon credits explained.
Carbon offsetting
Carbon offsetting is a way for people or organisations to make up for the carbon emissions they are responsible for. For example, if you contribute to emissions by flying, driving or making goods, you can help balance that out by supporting projects that reduce emissions elsewhere. This might include planting trees (which absorb carbon dioxide) or building wind farms to produce renewable energy.
The idea is that your support helps cancel out the damage you are doing. For example, if your flight creates one tonne of carbon dioxide, you pay to support a project that removes the same amount.
While this sounds like a win-win, carbon offsetting is not perfect. Some argue that it lets people feel better without really changing their behaviour, a phenomenon sometimes referred to as greenwashing.
Not all projects are effective or well managed. For instance, some tree planting initiatives might have taken place anyway, even without the offset funding, deeming your contribution inconsequential. Others might plant the non-native trees in areas where they are unlikely to reach their potential in terms of absorbing carbon emissions.
So, offsetting can help, but it is no magic fix. It works best alongside real efforts to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and encourage low-carbon lifestyles or supply chains.
By Sankar Sivarajah, professor of circular economy, Kingston University London
Carbon offsetting explained.
Carbon tax
A carbon tax is designed to reduce greenhouse gas emissions by placing a direct price on CO₂ and other greenhouse gases.
A carbon tax is grounded in the concept of the social cost of carbon. This is an estimate of the economic damage caused by emitting one tonne of CO₂, including climate-related health, infrastructure and ecosystem impacts.
A carbon tax is typically levied per tonne of CO₂ emitted. The tax can be applied either upstream (on fossil fuel producers) or downstream (on consumers or power generators). This makes carbon-intensive activities more expensive, it incentivises nations, businesses and people to reduce their emissions, while untaxed renewable energy becomes more competitively priced and appealing.
Carbon tax was first introduced by Finland in 1990. Since then, more than 39 jurisdictions have implemented similar schemes. According to the World Bank, carbon pricing mechanisms (that’s both carbon taxes and emissions trading systems) now cover about 24% of global emissions. The remaining 76% are not priced, mainly due to limited coverage in both sectors and geographical areas, plus persistent fossil fuel subsidies. Expanding coverage would require extending carbon pricing to sectors like agriculture and transport, phasing out fossil fuel subsidies and strengthening international governance.
What is carbon tax?
Sweden has one of the world’s highest carbon tax rates and has cut emissions by 33% since 1990 while maintaining economic growth. The policy worked because Sweden started early, applied the tax across many industries and maintained clear, consistent communication that kept the public on board.
Canada introduced a national carbon tax in 2019. In Canada, most of the revenue from carbon taxes is returned directly to households through annual rebates, making the scheme revenue-neutral for most families. However, despite its economic logic, inflation and rising fuel prices led to public discontent – especially as many citizens were unaware they were receiving rebates.
Carbon taxes face challenges including political resistance, fairness concerns and low public awareness. Their success depends on clear communication and visible reinvestment of revenues into climate or social goals. A 2025 study that surveyed 40,000 people in 20 countries found that support for carbon taxes increases significantly when revenues are used for environmental infrastructure, rather than returned through tax rebates.
By Meilan Yan, associate professor and senior lecturer in financial economics, Loughborough University
Climate resilience
Floods, wildfires, heatwaves and rising seas are pushing our cities, towns and neighbourhoods to their limits. But there’s a powerful idea that’s helping cities fight back: climate resilience.
Resilience refers to the ability of a system, such as a city, a community or even an ecosystem – to anticipate, prepare for, respond to and recover from climate-related shocks and stresses.
Sometimes people say resilience is about bouncing back. But it’s not just about surviving the next storm. It’s about adapting, evolving and thriving in a changing world.
Resilience means building smarter and better. It means designing homes that stay cool during heatwaves. Roads that don’t wash away in floods. Power grids that don’t fail when the weather turns extreme.
It’s also about people. A truly resilient city protects its most vulnerable. It ensures that everyone – regardless of income, age or background – can weather the storm.
And resilience isn’t just reactive. It’s about using science, local knowledge and innovation to reduce a risk before disaster strikes. From restoring wetlands to cool cities and absorb floods, to creating early warning systems for heatwaves, climate resilience is about weaving strength into the very fabric of our cities.
By Paul O’Hare, senior lecturer in geography and development, Manchester Metropolitan University
The meaning of climate resilience.
Climate risk disclosure
Climate risk disclosure refers to how companies report the risks they face from climate change, such as flood damage, supply chain disruptions or regulatory costs. It includes both physical risks (like storms) and transition risks (like changing laws or consumer preferences).
Mandatory disclosures, such as those proposed by the UK and EU, aim to make climate-related risks transparent to investors. Done well, these reports can shape capital flows toward more sustainable business models. Done poorly, they become greenwashing tools.
By Narmin Nahidi, assistant professor in finance at the University of Exeter
Emissions trading scheme
An emissions trading scheme is the primary market-based approach for regulating greenhouse gas emissions in many countries, including Australia, Canada, China and Mexico.
Part of a government’s job is to decide how much of the economy’s carbon emissions it wants to avoid in order to fight climate change. It must put a cap on carbon emissions that economic production is not allowed to surpass. Preferably, the polluters (that’s the manufacturers, fossil fuel companies) should be the ones paying for the cost of climate mitigation.
Regulators could simply tell all the firms how much they are allowed to emit over the next ten years or so. But giving every firm the same allowance across the board is not cost efficient, because avoiding carbon emissions is much harder for some firms (such as steel producers) than others (such as tax consultants). Since governments cannot know each firm’s specific cost profile either, it can’t customise the allowances. Also, monitoring whether polluters actually abide by their assigned limits is extremely costly.
An emissions trading scheme cleverly solves this dilemma using the cap-and-trade mechanism. Instead of assigning each polluter a fixed quota and risking inefficiencies, the government issues a large number of tradable permits – each worth, say, a tonne of CO₂-equivalent (CO₂e) – that sum up to the cap. Firms that can cut greenhouse gas emissions relatively cheaply can then trade their surplus permits to those who find it harder – at a price that makes both better off.
By Mathias Weidinger, environmental economist, University of Oxford
Emissions trading schemes, explained by climate finance expert Mathias Weidinger.
Environmental, social and governance (ESG) investing
ESG investing stands for environmental, social and governance investing. In simple terms, these are a set of standards that investors use to screen a company’s potential investments.
ESG means choosing to invest in companies that are not only profitable but also responsible. Investors use ESG metrics to assess risks (such as climate liability, labour practices) and align portfolios with sustainability goals by looking at how a company affects our planet and treats its people and communities. While there isn’t one single global body governing ESG, various organisations, ratings agencies and governments all contribute to setting and evolving these metrics.
For example, investing in a company committed to renewable energy and fair labour practices might be considered “ESG aligned”. Supporters believe ESG helps identify risks and create long-term value. Critics argue it can be vague or used for greenwashing, where companies appear sustainable without real action. ESG works best when paired with transparency and clear data. A barrier is that standards vary, and it’s not always clear what counts as ESG.
Why do financial companies and institutions care? Issues like climate change and nature loss pose significant risks, affecting company values and the global economy.
However, gathering reliable ESG information can be difficult. Companies often self-report, and the data isn’t always standardised or up to date. Researchers – including my team at the University of Oxford – are using geospatial data, like satellite imagery and artificial intelligence, to develop global databases for high-impact industries, across all major sectors and geographies, and independently assess environmental and social risks and impacts.
For instance, we can analyse satellite images of a facility over time to monitor its emissions effect on nature and biodiversity, or assess deforestation linked to a company’s supply chain. This allows us to map supply chains, identify high-impact assets, and detect hidden risks and opportunities in key industries, providing an objective, real-time look at their environmental footprint.
The goal is for this to improve ESG ratings and provide clearer, more consistent insights for investors. This approach could help us overcome current data limitations to build a more sustainable financial future.
By Amani Maalouf, senior researcher in spatial finance, University of Oxford
Environmental, social and governance investing explained.
Financed emissions
Financed emissions are the greenhouse gas emissions linked to a bank’s or investor’s lending and investment portfolio, rather than their own operations. For example, a bank that funds a coal mine or invests in fossil fuels is indirectly responsible for the carbon those activities produce.
Measuring financed emissions helps reveal the real climate impact of financial institutions not just their office energy use. It’s a cornerstone of climate accountability in finance and is becoming essential under net zero pledges.
By Narmin Nahidi, assistant professor in finance at the University of Exeter
Green bonds
Green bonds are loans issued to fund environmentally beneficial projects, such as energy-efficient buildings or clean transportation. Investors choose them to support climate solutions while earning returns.
Green bonds are a major tool to finance the shift to a low-carbon economy by directing finance toward climate solutions. As climate costs rise, green bonds could help close the funding gap while ensuring transparency and accountability.
Green bonds are required to ensure funds are spent as promised. For instance, imagine a city wants to upgrade its public transportation by adding electric buses to reduce pollution. Instead of raising taxes or slashing other budgets, the city can issue green bonds to raise the necessary capital. Investors buy the bonds, the city gets the funding, and the environment benefits from cleaner air and fewer emissions.
The growing participation of government issuers has improved the transparency and reliability of these investments. The green bond market has grown rapidly in recent years. According to the Bank for International Settlements, the green bond market reached US$2.9 trillion (£2.1 trillion) in 2024 – nearly six times larger than in 2018. At the same time, annual issuance (the total value of green bonds issued in a year) hit US$700 billion, highlighting the increasing role of green finance in tackling climate change.
By Dongna Zhang, assistant professor in economics and finance, Northumbria University
Just transition
Just transition is the process of moving to a low-carbon society that is environmentally sustainable and socially inclusive. In a broad sense, a just transition means focusing on creating a more fair and equal society.
Just transition has existed as a concept since the 1970s. It was originally applied to the green energy transition, protecting workers in the fossil fuel industry as we move towards more sustainable alternatives.
These days, it has so many overlapping issues of justice hidden within it, so the concept is hard to define. Even at the level of UN climate negotiations, global leaders struggle to agree on what a just transition means.
The big battle is between developed countries, who want a very restrictive definition around jobs and skills, and developing countries, who are looking for a much more holistic approach that considers wider system change and includes considerations around human rights, Indigenous people and creating an overall fairer global society.
A just transition is essentially about imagining a future where we have moved beyond fossil fuels and society works better for everyone – but that can look very different in a European city compared to a rural setting in south-east Asia.
For example, in a British city it might mean fewer cars and better public transport. In a rural setting, it might mean new ways of growing crops that are more sustainable, and building homes that are heatwave resistant.
By Alix Dietzel, climate justice and climate policy expert, University of Bristol
The meaning of just transition.
Loss and damage
A global loss and damage fund was agreed by nations at the UN climate summit (Cop27) in 2022. This means that the rich countries of the world put money into a fund that the least developed countries can then call upon when they have a climate emergency.
At the moment, the loss and damage fund is made up of relatively small pots of money. Much more will be needed to provide relief to those who need it most now and in the future.
By Mark Maslin, professor of earth system science, UCL
Mark Maslin explains loss and damage.
Mitigation v adaptation
Mitigation means cutting greenhouse gas emissions to slow climate change. Adaptation means adjusting to its effects, like building sea walls or growing heat-resistant crops. Both are essential: mitigation tackles the cause, while adaptation tackles the symptoms.
Globally, most funding goes to mitigation, but vulnerable communities often need adaptation support most. Balancing the two is a major challenge in climate policy, especially for developing countries facing immediate climate threats.
By Narmin Nahidi, assistant professor in finance at the University of Exeter
Nationally determined contributions
Nationally determined contributions (NDCs) are at the heart of the Paris agreement, the global effort to collectively combat climate change. NDCs are individual climate action plans created by each country. These targets and strategies outline how a country will reduce its greenhouse gas emissions and adapt to climate change.
Each nation sets its own goals based on its own circumstances and capabilities – there’s no standard NDC. These plans should be updated every five years and countries are encouraged to gradually increase their climate ambitions over time.
The aim is for NDCs to drive real action by guiding policies, attracting investment and inspiring innovation in clean technologies. But current NDCs fall short of the Paris agreement goals and many countries struggle to turn their plans into a reality. NDCs also vary widely in scope and detail so it’s hard to compare efforts across the board. Stronger international collaboration and greater accountability will be crucial.
By Doug Specht, reader in cultural geography and communication, University of Westminster
Fashion depends on water, soil and biodiversity – all natural capital. And forward-thinking designers are now asking: how do we create rather than deplete, how do we restore rather than extract?
Natural capital is the value assigned to the stock of forests, soils, oceans and even minerals such as lithium. It sustains every part of our economy. It’s the bees that pollinate our crops. It’s the wetlands that filter our water and it’s the trees that store carbon and cool our cities.
If we fail to value nature properly, we risk losing it. But if we succeed, we unlock a future that is not only sustainable but also truly regenerative.
My team at the University of Oxford is developing tools to integrate nature into national balance sheets, advising governments on biodiversity, and we’re helping industries from fashion to finance embed nature into their decision making.
Natural capital, explained by a climate finance expert.
By Mette Morsing, professor of business sustainability and director of the Smith School of Enterprise and the Environment, University of Oxford
Net zero
Reaching net zero means reducing the amount of additional greenhouse gas emissions that accumulate in the atmosphere to zero. This concept was popularised by the Paris agreement, a landmark deal that was agreed at the UN climate summit (Cop21) in 2015 to limit the impact of greenhouse gas emissions.
There are some emissions, from farming and aviation for example, that will be very difficult, if not impossible, to reach absolute zero. Hence, the “net”. This allows people, businesses and countries to find ways to suck greenhouse gas emissions out of the atmosphere, effectively cancelling out emissions while trying to reduce them. This can include reforestation, rewilding, direct air capture and carbon capture and storage. The goal is to reach net zero: the point at which no extra greenhouse gases accumulate in Earth’s atmosphere.
By Mark Maslin, professor of earth system science, UCL
Mark Maslin explains net zero.
For more expert explainer videos, visit The Conversation’s quick climate dictionary playlist here on YouTube.
Mark Maslin is Pro-Vice Provost of the UCL Climate Crisis Grand Challenge and Founding Director of the UCL Centre for Sustainable Aviation. He was co-director of the London NERC Doctoral Training Partnership and is a member of the Climate Crisis Advisory Group. He is an advisor to Sheep Included Ltd, Lansons, NetZeroNow and has advised the UK Parliament. He has received grant funding from the NERC, EPSRC, ESRC, DFG, Royal Society, DIFD, BEIS, DECC, FCO, Innovate UK, Carbon Trust, UK Space Agency, European Space Agency, Research England, Wellcome Trust, Leverhulme Trust, CIFF, Sprint2020, and British Council. He has received funding from the BBC, Lancet, Laithwaites, Seventh Generation, Channel 4, JLT Re, WWF, Hermes, CAFOD, HP and Royal Institute of Chartered Surveyors.
Amani Maalouf receives funding from IKEA Foundation and UK Research and Innovation (NE/V017756/1).
Narmin Nahidi is affiliated with several academic associations, including the Financial Management Association (FMA), British Accounting and Finance Association (BAFA), American Finance Association (AFA), and the Chartered Association of Business Schools (CMBE). These affiliations do not influence the content of this article.
Paul O’Hare receives funding from the UK’s Natural Environment Research Council (NERC). Award reference NE/V010174/1.
Alix Dietzel, Dongna Zhang, Doug Specht, Mathias Weidinger, Meilan Yan, and Sankar Sivarajah do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
